#honorable mentions that didn't make the cut:

[eufezco]

A FRESH START 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

synopsis — after leaving wakanda, bucky starts to rediscover who he is while living with you, slowly bulding a new life. his dispair deepens and you offer him a fresh start with a simple act: cutting his hair.

angst. fluff

—you have to stop thinking that every time something good is happening to you it's because something worse is on the way. that´s not a way to live, buck —. you said softly, your voice steady but with a hint of concern.

bucky shook his head, running a hand over his face as a sign of desperation. if only he could remember what life felt like before hydra took him, before all those wasted years. after so long he was still trying to figure it out, still trying to find a version of himself that didn’t feel like a stranger. trying to get used to his new life in the city, far from the peace he had known in wakanda. all these sudden changes only made him more confused and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to adjust, it was that he didn’t know how.

it had been a almost a year since bucky had moved in with you, since you had defeated thanos and steve had left. when the dora milaje declared him ready to live a normal life, bucky stood there, unsure of what that even meant. he had no place to go. louisiana crossed his mind for a moment, sam had always extended an open invitation but the thought of intruding on sam��s family life stopped him, and steve was gone, something he chose not to think much about, so for the first time in over a century, bucky was truly on his own.

except he wasn’t. you were there.

when you found out he needed a place, you didn’t think about it twice. he resisted at first. ayo told him you were the right person to star building his new life. you trust her, you trust her more than you admit. that is where you begin. trust. she is the right person to help you build this new life, james.

and he couldn't remember what you two had shared before hydra took him, before everything fell apart but there was a pull. by the things steve told him, you three were best friends once, inseparable. he spoke of nights you spent laughing, of how he’d head home early, leaving you and bucky behind, knowing that bucky would arrive later, with a big smile on his lips. steve chuckled when he mentioned your lipstick, smeared on bucky’s mouth when he finally made it back. you never wiped it off, you wore it like a badge of honor.

bucky tried to imagine it, those moments of joy but the memories never came. but he could still feel it. he felt it that day in wakanda, when you arrived with steve and natasha to fight thanos. you smiled at him, just a brief moment in the chaos, but it stayed with him. there was something so familiar about that smile, something warm and he felt it too every time you visited him or sent him what had once been his favorite sweets, little reminders of a life he no longer remembered but somehow still carried with him.

so, he showed up at your door a few days later, a bag hung over his shoulder and a sad look in his eyes. he didn't try to argue this time. —you sure about this?

you didn’t hesitate. —absolutely.

living with bucky was easy. he was quiet, he didn't need much space. after months, he started making it his place too, little by little. he left his shoes by the door beside yours, the book he picked up from one of your shelves appeared on the coffee table, his leather jacket draped over the back of a chair.

—it's not that easy —. he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

you watched him. —i know it’s not, —you said softly, stepping closer to him. —but you don’t have to do it all at once. no one expects that from you.

he shook his head again. —feels like they do, —he said, his blue eyes looking directly into yours. you could see the sadness and the guilt of the moments he couldn’t take back. —feels like every time i mess up, it’s just proof that i don’t belong here. as if this life was not made for me —his voice was low, barely more than a murmur. —what if the only thing i'm good at is killing?

you took a deep breath. it was hard to hear him say that, to see the man you’d known before hydra, who was your best friend and the love of your life, now drowning in self-doubt and guilt. —you’re more than what they made you.

—am i? because that’s all i’ve ever done. all i know how to do.

—but it’s not who you are, it’s what they forced you to be. the fact that you’re even asking this? that you’re fighting to be someone better? that’s proof enough that that wasn't you at all.

he closed his eyes tightly and ran his hands through the long strands of his hair. for a moment, you just stood there, watching him. you wanted to pull him back from whatever dark place his thoughts had taken him, but you hesitated, ayo told you to do so, to let him space to feel this, to fight against it, even if it hurt.

—i can still feel him inside my head, i can hear his thoughts. he's not gone.

bucky’s fingers suddenly grabbed the roots of his hair with a little more force. his breathing grew faster, his hands shook and his eyes squeezed shut. you couldn't see how deep his pain was and not do anything to stop him from hurting himself.

you stepped closer. —bucky, hey… —your hands sneaked into his hair, softly pulling his grip from his scalp. his hands were trembling, and for a moment, there was resistance in him like he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of the only thing he could hold onto. but your touch was soft, familiar and something shifted, almost imperceptible, but you could feel the tension in him loosen.

—the bucky i knew isn’t gone. he’s still in there. i see him every time you fight for something good, every time you try to make amends, every time you care about the people around you, about me.

his shoulders fell, and his head hung low, he didn’t want you to see him like this, weak and broken. but you had seen him in his darkest moments as the winter soldier and you had experienced thanos taking him away from you with the blip. the years without him had been a painful, you thought you lost him forever. yet there he was, standing before you, alive, and you weren’t about to let him go again.

your hands gently moved to push the back of his head, guiding him to rest his forehead on your shoulder. he was still a bit unsure about how to handle this type of physical contact, used to years of torture, where touch always meant pain, control, or something to fear. now you held him close to your body, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

—why don’t i cut your hair?

—cut my hair?

—yeah, it´ll help you to see yourself in a different way. a fresh start.

bucky pulled back a little, he wasn’t sure if you were joking. —you think cutting my hair will fix everything?

you smiled softly, you wished it could be that easy. —no, —you admitted. —but ayo told your new life will be built on small things.

bucky sighed.

the idea of letting go parts of himself that tied him to the winter soldier felt like a whole world. first, it was his metal arm, the one with the red star, when tony ripped it off of him, bucky felt relieved, like tony was cutting one of the heads of the hydra to end the monster. in wakanda, he learned to live using only his flesh-and-blood arm until they gave him a new one which he only intended to use for good.

and now you were asking to cut his hair.

—ayo did say that, didn’t she? —he murmured, almost to himself.

—she’s a smart woman and besides, it’s just a haircut. if you hate it, it’ll grow back.

a small smile appeared in his lips. —if it ends up bad, i’m blaming you.

you took a chair from the kitchen to the bathroom and he sat down in front of the mirror. bucky stared at his reflection as he pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed. he didn't like mirrors, he avoided them as much as he could. he didn't like the person staring back at him, he didn't know who that man was and now sitting on that chair there was no escape.

there was a difference this time. next to one of the things he most hated to look at—his reflection—was one of the things he liked the most to look at—you.

his blue eyes moved from his reflection to yours. you stood behind him and ran your hands gently through his hair. he felt that familiar tickle in his stomach, the one he first felt almost a century ago and that, even after all the years, it hadn't gone away.

he felt it every morning when you entered the kitchen, hair a mess from sleep, mumbling a soft “good morning” to him. he felt it when he came home in the evenings and dinner was ready and you were sitting at the table, waiting for him. he felt it most when you would fell asleep on the couch and he had to carry you to your bed, careful not to wake you. and you'd ask him in your sleep to stay, and he'd freeze, he wanted to say yes, he wanted to stay. but he couldn’t risk it, his nightmares were still too real. so bucky would gently place you in your bed, making sure you were well tucked in, and whisper, i’ll be in my room, if you need anything.

—are you ready? —you asked him, bringing him back from his thoughts. you already had the scissors in your hand and bucky shifted in the chair at the sight of them. —it'll be okay, buck.

—feels like more than just a haircut.

you nodded, understanding. —well, that's what we wanted, isn't it?

bucky swallowed and nodded.

—why don't you close your eyes? i'll let you know when i'm done.

with a deep breath, he did as you said. your lips curved into a small smile even though he could no longer see you. you were aware of all the progress he had made. you knew he trusted you with his heart because on no other occasion he would willingly keep his eyes closed with someone standing behind him, scissors in hand and when your hands rested on his shoulders, he hadn’t flinched at the contact.

—okay, i'll start.

with his eyes closed it was much easier to feel the delicacy with which you treated him. the way your fingers combed through his scalp and then the sound of the scissors, followed by the sensation of the strands falling and taking with them the weight he had carried for so long. and you talked, about anything that crossed your mid so he did not feel that he was in danger or he had to be alert at any time.

—maybe we could get a cat, —you said. —i think it’d be nice. do you think you’d be a good cat parent?

—maybe —. he said after a pause. —i definitely prefer a cat to a dog.

you switched to the clippers, you left the hair at the top of his head a little longer, while the rest of it was cut shorter. a very chic haircut for someone born in 1917. you carefully checked that his hair was even and then you styled it with your fingers.

—okay, i'm done, you can open your eyes.

bucky hesitated for a moment, then opened his eyes. your breath caught in surprise as you watched him take in the sight of himself. it was like having the bucky you once knew staring right at you through the mirror. his features were the same, just a bit more more defined and mature.

he felt the same relief as when tony ripped off the metal arm that hydra embedded in his body, like a part of him that had once been used against him, now freed. he turned his head slowly to both sides to get a better look and to be honest, he liked his new look. physically, he could see the resemblance to the man in the photos you had shown him, the young soldier who smiled to you, in love.

—how do you feel? i think it suits you —. you asked gently.

bucky nodded. —i like it —. he caught your gaze in the mirror. the eye contact was so intense that you had to look away. you cleared your throat, hoping to ease the tension, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

—alright, come on, —you tapped his shoulder for him to stand up. — i'm going to sweep your hair off the floor.

bucky got up from the chair and turned his head to look at you, not through the mirror this time, but directly, and the sudden closeness made your breath hitch. —thank you for doing this.

—you don't need to thank me, buck. i'm glad it turned out well, it was my first time doing it.

—you sure about that? —he asked—it doesn’t feel like it was your first time.

you laughed, still avoiding his gaze. —guess we got lucky, then.

there was a silence; you were both too close, but not close enough yet. bucky’s eyes moved to your lips for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your heart race. you could both feel the tension, an invisible string pulling you toward each other, daring one of you to close the gap. you didn’t want to take the first step, you didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t ready for, the last thing you wanted was to break the fragile trust he’d built with you.

you opened your mouth to say something but he talked first.

—can i kiss you? —his voice was low, almost shy.

you were surprised because you didn't expected him to ask so directly, but consent was so important to him. he spent too many years under someone else’s control, forced into actions that weren’t his own, and now he was determined never to cross those lines. it wasn’t just about asking to kiss you, it was about making sure that you were comfortable, that you wanted this just as much as he did.

—yeah, —you whispered —you can.

bucky stepped closer, his flesh-and-blood hand reaching to cup your cheek, his fingers gently brushing against your skin. he leaned in, his movements careful, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you leaned into him instead, your lips finally meeting his.

he felt strange. he had wanted to kiss you for what felt like forever, and now that he had, he wasn’t sure what to do next. his mind raced, trying to remember how this was supposed to go. he forgot about kissing, forgot about the rhythm of it, the give and take. his hand slipped from your cheek to fall awkwardly at his side as he pulled away from your lips just enough just to say:

—i don't... i don't remember how to do this.

—it's okay. you're doing just fine. there’s no right or wrong way. just… follow me.

this time, when your lips met, you moved slowly, guiding him. his tension disappeared as he mirrored your movements, his right hand returned to your cheek, the other, his metal one, moved to hold your hips. it wasn’t perfect, the movements of his lips were still hesitant, but there was something honest about the way he kissed you.

as he kissed you, bucky became more aware of his body and where his hands were and realized that his metal hand was resting lightly on your waist. he pulled the hand away quickly. —i'm sorry, i didn't mean to...

you shook your head, one of your hands flew to the back of his neck to connect your lips while your other one grabbed his vibranium arm and guided his hand to where it was before. as the kiss deepened, you felt him relax, stop worrying about whether he was doing it right or wrong, about the touch of his cold hand on your skin, and he just kissed you.

you hummed before parting ways. his cheeks were flushed, his lips were a bit swollen and glossy, his breathing a little uneven and you couldn't help a little laugh from escaping your lips.

—okay, now you're just laughing at me.

—you're so cute, buck.

[stnkiconverse]

Hii :3 could I have sum of the creep boys (Ej, Toby, Jeff, Masky and Hoodie) with a reader who likes marking (bites/cuts/hickeys) their thighs? Pls and thank u 💛

This has been collecting dust in my drafts for months, im so sorry bby, i just needed to have my masky and hoodie headcanons in place before posting this😭😭

Also- Ik you said thighs, but i did mention some other places, i hope you don’t mind :3

E Y E L E S S J A C K

Jack is surprisingly unbothered by your habit. He views it with a mix of curiosity and amusement, often analyzing your techniques silently. (like this = 🤨)

"Hmm. Is this an attempt at branding? Or is this just for fun?" His DRY ASS humor makes it hard to tell if he's teasing or genuinely questioning.

He’s not fond of pain but does not shy from it either. The marks don't bother him, they heal faster than you think anyway.

If you center the attack on his thighs, he'll arch a brow and say something quick and sarcastic, like, "I'm honored you've chosen me as your personal canvas."

Jack has super sharp senses, so he's super aware of your touch. If you bite or leave cuts near sensitive spots, hips, or neck, for example, he might tense for a moment but never stop you.

His favorite places for you to mark? His shoulders or his ribs. He finds the sensation grounding in a strange way, though he'll never admit it. (he moaned once)

If you tease him about it, he'll deadpan: "Just don't expect me to reciprocate. My claws aren't…delicate." (😏)

T I C C I T O B Y

Toby is a little awkward about it at first, not used to someone being so physically affectionate in such an intense way. But once he gets used to it? He's all in. (fucking weirdo 😒 / lovingly)

He doesn't actually feel pain like others do, (obv) so he lets you go wild without flinching. "You're gonna have to try harder than that to leave a mark on me," he'd tease, looking down later to grin at the faint bruises or bites.

If you target his thighs, he might giggle a bit, kicking his leg. "That tickles, stop- stop!"

Neck and collarbone marks fluster him the most. He'll try to hide them with his hoodie but secretly love that they're there.

Sometimes, he'll encourage you in his chaotic way: "Oh, you missed a spot. Try here!" and point to random places like his back or ribs, sometimes even shoving his wrists in your face 😭😭

If you ever leave too many marks, he'll grin like a maniac and joke: "Guess I'm your chew toy now, huh?"

J E F F T H E K I L L E R

Jeff would be cocky about it, but secretly flustered. He'd smirk and say something snarky like, "Didn't know you were that desperate to get your hands on me," but the redness creeping up his neck gives him away.

He doesn't mind pain and might even enjoy it a little. If you bite too hard, he'll laugh and go, "Is that all you've got? You're gonna have to try harder."

Loves when you leave marks on his neck, it makes him feel a twisted sense of pride. He'll strut around the manor like a smug idiot, showing them off.

His thighs are a sensitive spot, though he won't admit it. If you target them, he'll squirm slightly and mutter, "Don't get any ideas..." but he won't stop you. (bcs he likes it 😏)

If you leave cuts or scratches, he'll trace them with his fingers absentmindedly, secretly loving the way they look.

"You're turning me into your personal art project, huh? Not that I'm complaining."

T I M / M A S K Y

Masky (Tim)

Tim is not immediately comfortable it, especially if it's in a more vulnerable spot like his neck or inner thighs. He'll tense up and grumble, "What are you doing?" but he won't push you away :3

Over time, he warms up to it, especially when he realizes it's your way of showing affection. He won't admit it, but he finds it oddly reassuring :p

Marks on his shoulders or upper back are his favorite. He won't say anything, but you might catch him subtly glancing at them in the mirror (😏)

If you bite too hard, he'll sigh and mutter, "You know I have to cover that up, right?" while pulling on another layer of clothing (i love him guys)

Surprisingly, he doesn't mind if you mark his thighs when he's sitting or lounging. He might roll his eyes but secretly enjoys the attention.

"You're a little too into this, you know that?" he'd say with the tiniest smirk, though the faint blush on his face betrays him.

B R I A N / H O O D I E

Hoodie (Brian)

Brian is surprisingly chill about your habit and takes it in stride :D

He'll joke, "Do I look like a notebook to you? Or is this some modern art thing?"

He's not huge on pain, so if you bite too hard or draw blood, he might flinch and gently push you away. "Careful, I'm not indestructible."

Loves when you leave hickeys or gentle bites on his shoulders or chest. He finds them oddly comforting and will trace them when he's alone, smiling softly.

If you go for his thighs, he'll laugh and tease you: "That's bold. Didn't take you for a thigh person."

Occasionally, he'll play along and say something like, "You missed a spot," pointing to random areas just to see you flustered.

Brian enjoys the possessive nature of your markings but is too reserved to admit it outright.

Instead, he'll say something teasing like, "Guess I'm yours now, huh?"

I hope this was good enough!! :D

sorry to keep you waiting so long 😭

[kiwriteswords]

Hiya! May i please request protective Aaron Hotchner? Thanks Ki!

To the Ends of the Earth [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 4k|| AN: LOVE PROTECTIVE HOTCH!! Thanks for requesting!!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, canon-typical themes, reader was taken advantage of by a powerful figure, protective!Hotch, mentions of sexual assault/harassment, mentions of physical altercations, blackmail, canon-typical violence, angry Hotch, protective!Derek Morgan, Hotch's POV, Reader defending herself, established relationship, Strauss is a nightmare boss sometimes, Aaron "I must make sure justice is served" Hotchner, bureaucratic politics

Summary: When an opportunity of a lifetime turns into a nightmare for you, Aaron Horchner needs to make it right.

Aaron Hotchner was not a man given to fits of rage. His demeanor, honed by years of service and hardship, was one of controlled calm, a fortress of logic and order. But as he watched you move around the kitchen that morning, something stirred deep within him—a tumultuous blend of protectiveness and fury that he hadn't felt since the harrowing days of George Foyet.

Something was off about you. It had been for a few weeks now, ever since you returned from that high-profile assignment with the task force. Hotch remembered how proud he had felt when you were selected, the honor that lit up your eyes, the excitement that animated your every gesture. But now, the light had faded from your eyes, replaced by a haunted, distant gaze.

Your movements were mechanical, your smiles forced. You flinched at sudden movements and seemed to wrap yourself tighter in your own arms whenever the house fell too quiet. The changes were subtle, but to Hotch, they screamed of something profoundly wrong.

He watched now as you poured coffee with slightly trembling hands, the dark liquid spilling slightly over the rim of the mug. Hotch's jaw clenched. He approached you, his steps silent but purposeful.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft yet carrying an undercurrent of concern that made you pause and look up. "We need to talk."

You nodded, setting the coffee pot down a bit too quickly, liquid sloshing onto the counter. "I know," you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Hotch reached out, gently lifting your chin so you were looking into his eyes. "What happened on that assignment?" he asked, his voice low and intense. "You've been different since you came back."

Your eyes filled with tears, and you bit your lip, a clear struggle within you. The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with unspoken fears.

"It's... it was nothing, Aaron. I—I just got overwhelmed with the work, that's all," you stammered, but Hotch's eyes darkened. He knew you. He knew when you were hiding something painful.

"Talk to me," he pressed, his hand firm yet gentle on your arm. "Please."

The floodgates opened then, and as you told him about your boss—the respected and powerful figure within the Bureau, the one with connections that reached the highest echelons of government—Hotch felt a cold fury settle in his stomach. The man had taken advantage of you, betrayed your trust in the most despicable way, and used his power to silence you.

"He told me... he told me if I said anything, it'd be the end of my career. He's friends with—"

Hotch cut you off, his voice icy, "I don't care who he's friends with."

You flinched at the steel in his voice, and he immediately softened, pulling you into a protective embrace. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just so, so angry that he did this to you. That I wasn't there to protect you."

Hotch held you close, his mind racing. His instinct was to protect, to avenge, to rectify. But he was also Aaron Hotchner, a man of the law, bound by rules and protocols—even if his heart screamed to break them for your sake.

"We're going to handle this," he whispered into your hair, his voice a steady rumble of contained fury. "I promise you, I won't let him get away with this. No one hurts you and just walks away."

Hotch felt your body tense in his arms, the weight of your emotions palpable against his chest. He held you tighter, a silent promise in the embrace.

"Look at me," he urged gently, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his once again. In them, he saw a storm of hurt, fear, and defiance—a maelstrom that made his own heart clench with an indignant rage he seldom allowed others to see.

"I... I don't want to make this into something big, Aaron. It's... it's embarrassing," you whispered, your voice breaking with the weight of your vulnerability. "And I... I don't want to be seen as a victim. He's too powerful. What if—"

"No," Hotch interrupted firmly, his tone brooking no argument. His gaze was intense, almost piercing, as he spoke with a clarity that cut through the fog of your worries. "You are not a victim. And this... this man has committed a crime. His power doesn't protect him from the law—not from justice. Not as long as I'm here."

You searched his face, looking for the certainty that felt so elusive to you now. Finding it in his eyes, the relentless determination that defined him, a small, fragile sense of security began to weave through your trepidation.

"Aaron, I'm scared," you admitted, the truth sounding stark and raw between you. "I'm scared of the fallout, of what it means for us, for my career..."

Hotch's expression hardened, the lines of his face setting into that familiar mold of resolve that had carried him through countless challenges. "I understand your fear, and it's valid. But you're not alone in this—not now, not ever. We'll do this together and on your terms. We'll take every precaution, use every resource at our disposal. We'll fight this, and we'll win."

The certainty in his voice was more than just comforting—it was a bastion against the doubts that threatened to overwhelm you. Hotch stood, his posture rigid with controlled anger, a testament to his unwavering support.

"And if he thinks he can intimidate or silence you, he doesn't know who he's dealing with. He doesn't know who I am," Hotch added his voice a low growl of protective ferocity. It was the same tone he'd used years ago, a sound born of fury and pain from darker days. It reassured you, reminded you of the strength you had beside you.

You nodded, leaning into him, drawing strength from his presence. "What do we do now?" you asked, the practical part of you ready to take the next steps, no matter how daunting.

"We start by documenting everything. Every interaction you've had with him, anything that can support your case. We'll get statements from anyone who might have noticed anything during your assignment," Hotch planned out loud, his mind already sifting through procedures and protocols. "I'll talk to Strauss personally. We need to make sure this is handled by the book and with the utmost seriousness."

"And then?" Your voice was small, but your eyes were steady, meeting his.

"Then we make sure justice is served," Hotch stated simply. "And we ensure that this never happens to you, or anyone else, ever again."

The resolve in his voice was unwavering, the promise not just of a lover but of a protector, a leader. 

The next day, Hotch’s steps were purposeful as he approached Erin Strauss's office, his jaw set in a firm line, his thoughts a whirlwind of strategy and barely contained anger. This wasn't just another bureaucratic hurdle; it was personal, and the stakes were far higher than usual.

Knocking briskly, Hotch didn't wait for a reply before pushing the door open. Strauss looked up from her desk; her expression schooled into one of cautious neutrality.

"Agent Hotchner, what can I do for you?" Strauss asked, her tone as meticulously controlled as the rest of her demeanor.

"We need to talk about an urgent matter," Hotch began, his voice laced with a severity that made Strauss straighten slightly in her chair.

"It's about the conduct of a high-ranking official in the task force assigned to an agent on my team. There have been serious allegations made against him," Hotch stated bluntly, not one to dance around the subject.

Strauss's eyes narrowed, a flicker of concern passing over her features before she masked it with a bureaucratic calm. "I'm aware of the individual you're referring to," she said slowly. "However, you know as well as I do the complexities involved. He has significant connections, Aaron. This could become a highly volatile situation."

"That doesn't excuse his actions or absolve us of our duty to act," Hotch countered sharply, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "We have a responsibility to protect our agents and uphold the integrity of the Bureau."

"Aaron," Strauss began, her tone firmer, more authoritative. "I understand your concerns, as well as your….personal connection to this, but we must approach this carefully. Rushing into this could backfire, not just on us but on your agent as well. We risk turning her into the subject of a very public, very messy scandal."

Hotch felt his frustration mount, the protective fury simmering beneath his cool exterior. "With all due respect, Ma'am, I'm not willing to let this go because it's complicated. If we start picking and choosing which battles to fight based on political convenience—"

"This is not about convenience, Agent Hotchner!" Strauss interrupted, her voice rising slightly for the first time. "It's about strategy. It's about ensuring we handle this in a way that ensures justice without causing unnecessary harm. I am not saying we do nothing. I'm saying we need a plan."

Hotch paused, the logical part of his brain recognizing the truth in her words, even as his emotions rebelled against the implication. "I want your assurance, then, that we will pursue this. That it won't be swept under the rug because he's 'connected.'"

"You have my word that we will take appropriate action," Strauss said, her gaze locking with Hotch's. "But I need you to be patient. Give me time to navigate this minefield. I need to talk to the Director, maybe even higher. This isn't just about the Bureau, Aaron. It's bigger than that."

Hotch's expression hardened the lines of his face set in determination. "Time is something I can give, Erin, but silence is not. If we don't see action, I will take this to every authority necessary."

Strauss met his gaze, a silent battle of wills taking place in the quiet tension of the room. Finally, she nodded. "Understood. Let's reconvene in forty-eight hours. I should have more information then."

Hotch nodded curtly, the promise of action the only thing tempering his rage as he left her office. The fight was far from over, and while the bureaucratic wheels turned slowly, his resolve was as swift and unyielding as ever. Justice, he knew, sometimes required more than just good intentions. It needed steadfast, relentless advocacy, and that was something Aaron Hotchner was all too ready to provide.

As Hotch sifted through the case files on his desk, his focus was frequently interrupted by a far more personal concern. The events involving you had left a residual tension that permeated not just his office but his every thought. It was during one of these distracted moments that he heard the familiar knock of Derek Morgan at his door.

"Come in," Hotch called, setting aside the files and steeling himself for the conversation he anticipated was about more than just BAU casework.

Derek stepped in, closing the door behind him with a seriousness that matched the gravity Hotch felt. "Hotch, I've heard about what happened. How's she holding up?" Derek's voice carried a mix of concern and protective anger.

"She's coping, Derek, but it’s far from ideal," Hotch admitted, feeling the weight of his responsibilities as both a unit chief and a partner, “She's strong, but this... this isn't something anyone should have to be strong for--what happened... it’s unacceptable."

Derek's presence was reassuring, a reminder that he wasn't alone in his resolve to address the issue. "We can't just wait for the system to grind forward. What are we doing to make sure she feels safe, not just now but in the future?" Derek asked, his stance resolute.

Leaning back in his chair, Hotch considered the proactive steps they needed to take. "Strauss is handling the investigation, but we need to tighten our own security measures. I’m thinking about revising our late-night protocols and perhaps reintroducing a buddy system."

Derek nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "And maybe we should look into a refresher on self-defense for the team. It's been a while, and it might help give everyone a bit more sense of control," he suggested.

"That’s a good point. I’ll arrange for a workshop. We should also consider implementing more discreet ways for team members to alert security. Fast and effective responses could make a big difference," Hotch said, feeling a strategic plan forming.

"Like panic buttons?" Derek proposed.

"Exactly," Hotch confirmed, his mind already running through logistics and implementations. "I'll ask Garcia to look into integrating something seamless yet powerful."

Derek’s next words struck a chord, emphasizing the culture Hotch always strived to foster within the team. "We need to make a statement, Hotch. Not just with new systems and training, but in how we handle this. We protect our own, not just out there," Derek motioned towards the world beyond their office walls, "but in here, too."

Hotch met Derek’s gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the shared commitment. "I agree completely. Let’s set up a team meeting tomorrow. We’ll discuss these changes openly and ensure everyone knows we’re serious about safeguarding our own."

As Derek left, Hotch turned his attention back to the files before him but with a renewed focus. The safety and well-being of his team, particularly you, now had a clear path forward. With Derek's support and the team's collective effort, Hotch was determined to transform this challenging situation into an opportunity to strengthen the BAU from within. The resolve in his heart was matched by the plans forming in his mind, and he felt ready to lead this crucial initiative.

The wheels of bureaucracy had finally begun to turn, albeit slowly. Hotch could feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere within the Bureau as whispers of the investigation started to circulate among the upper echelons. Strauss had been true to her word so far, initiating discreet inquiries that didn’t draw undue attention yet signaled a clear intent to address the allegations seriously.

However, just as Hotch was beginning to see a glimmer of progress, a new, more immediate crisis erupted. It was late in the evening, and you were at home with Hotch, the two of you trying to enjoy a quiet dinner together to take your minds off the ongoing turmoil. Your phone buzzed with the arrival of an email, and the change in your demeanor was immediate and alarming.

“What is it?” Hotch asked, noting the sudden pallor that washed over your face as you stared at your screen.

“It’s him,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s... he’s threatening me, Aaron.”

The words hit Hotch like a physical blow. His jaw clenched, and his eyes hardened with a fury that had been simmering just below the surface, now brought to a boiling point by this new provocation. He took the phone from your hands; his movements controlled but brisk, and read the email himself.

The message was succinct, laced with venom and arrogance. The man threatened to ruin your reputation, to make sure you would never work in law enforcement again if you continued to "drag his name through the mud." The audacity of the threat, the blatant attempt to intimidate and silence you, ignited a fierce protectiveness in Hotch.

“This ends now,” Hotch said, his voice low and dangerous. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor with a sharp screech. “I won’t let him get away with this.”

You reached out, touching his arm. “Aaron, what are you going to do?”

��I’m going to make sure he understands the consequences of threatening an FBI agent,” Hotch replied, his tone leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. “He thinks he can intimidate us into silence, but he’s gravely mistaken.”

Hotch’s first call was to Strauss, informing her of the new development. His words were clipped, his anger barely contained as he explained the situation.

“Erin, he sent a threatening email. He’s trying to intimidate her into dropping the charges. This is witness tampering, and it’s unacceptable. We need to act, and we need to act now,” Hotch insisted, his demeanor unyielding.

“We will start with securing a formal censure against him. I’ll also alert the Director immediately. This is serious, Aaron, and we’ll treat it as such,” Strauss responded, her voice reflecting a new urgency.

Satisfied that the Bureau was finally mobilizing with the necessary aggression, Hotch turned his attention back to you. He could see the fear and uncertainty that the email had sparked, and he knew he had to be the rock you could lean on.

“Listen to me,” he said, taking your hands in his. “I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to you. We’re in this together, and we’re going to see it through. No one threatens you and gets away with it. Not on my watch.”

As Hotch spoke, his assurance, his unwavering support, you felt a flicker of hope. Despite the darkness of the situation, with Hotch by your side, you believed that, somehow, everything might still turn out right.

Aaron Hotchner had settled into the kind of focus that came with years of late nights and urgent cases. The dim light from his desk lamp cast long shadows across the paperwork in front of him, the numbers and details blurring into a singular narrative of crime and consequence. He was deeply immersed in a complex profile, one that needed to be finished before morning, when a faint noise caused him to look up. It was a sound out of place in the quiet of the late evening, a soft shuffling, a hesitant step.

The sight that greeted him was one he was wholly unprepared for. You were leaning heavily against the doorframe, your face visibly battered and bruised, your clothing disheveled as if from a scuffle. There was a black eye forming, swelling under the stark fluorescent light, and blood was trickling from a cut on your lip, dripping onto your collar.

For a moment, Hotch froze, his brain trying to process the scene before him. His files, his profile, the pen still poised in his hand—all of it faded into irrelevance as a surge of protective anger rose within him. He was on his feet in an instant, his chair pushed back with such force it nearly toppled.

“What did he do?!” The words burst from him, laden with fury and concern as he closed the distance between you and him in a few long strides. His hands hovered just inches from you, itching to reach out, to confirm you were real and standing there, yet hesitating out of fear of hurting you further.

Your appearance was a stark, visual slap to his system, igniting a rage in Hotch that was pure and lethal, a reminder of the days when he'd hunted the most dangerous criminals. His mind raced with the implications of your injuries—how it had happened, where, and most importantly, who was responsible.

Seeing you in such a state, so vulnerable yet defiant, was more than just a call to action. It was a personal affront, a challenge to everything he stood for, both as the unit chief of the BAU and as the man who loved you. Your safety had been compromised under his watch, and the violation of that trust was something he took as a personal failure.

“Who did this?” His voice was a low growl now, demanding an answer, needing to know whom to direct his burgeoning wrath towards. The protective barrier he always maintained—the one that kept his professional judgment clear of emotional interference—was crumbling fast, chipped away by each drop of blood he saw staining your skin.

Your response was shaky but filled with a fire that spoke volumes of your resilience. “It was him. In the locker room,” you managed to say, your voice a testament to both the physical pain you endured and the psychological battle you were fighting. “There are no cameras there. He knew that.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes hardening with resolute anger. You had defended yourself, survived, and prevailed, yet the cost was written all over your face, and it was a price too steep for him to bear without retribution.

“We’re going to Strauss now,” he stated unequivocally, the protective fervor in his voice leaving no room for negotiation. “He won’t get away with this. Not now, not ever.”

He quickly grabbed a first aid kit, gently tending to your wounds with a steadiness in his hands that belied the storm of emotions inside him. Once he was sure you were stable, he offered you his arm, ready to accompany you to Strauss’s office. The walk there was tense, each step heavy with the weight of the incident and its implications.

Upon reaching Strauss’s office, Hotch knocked firmly, not waiting for an invitation to enter. Strauss looked up, her expression turning from surprise to alarm at the sight of your condition.

“Aaron, what happened?” Strauss stood immediately, her eyes wide as they took in the visible marks of the attack on you.

“She was attacked by him, in the gym locker room. There are no cameras there. It was premeditated,” Hotch explained, his voice controlled but the underlying fury unmistakable. “She defended herself and subdued him. He’s still there, unconscious and handcuffed.”

Strauss’s face hardened, her eyes now reflecting a mix of anger and determination. “I’ll call security, have them take him into custody and ensure he’s watched until he can be formally charged. This is attempted assault on a federal agent, at the very least. We’ll push for the maximum charges.”

You nodded, leaning slightly on Hotch for support, both physically and emotionally. “Thank you, Strauss. I... I defended myself, but I want this to be handled by the book. We need to make sure he never has the opportunity to hurt anyone else.”

Strauss moved around her desk, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. “You did good, and I’m sorry this happened under our watch. We’ll take care of it from here. And you,” she looked at Hotch, “make sure she gets to a hospital, and then take some time off. Both of you. You need to recover from this.”

Hotch nodded, his protective instincts fully engaged as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you out of the office. The rage still simmered within him, a fierce protectiveness that would not soon abate. But alongside it was a profound respect for your strength and resilience and a renewed commitment to stand by you, no matter what lay ahead.

That night, the world outside seemed distant, almost irrelevant as you and Aaron Hotchner returned to the sanctuary of your home. The hospital visit had been thorough but exhausting, leaving both of you drained yet relieved that nothing was critically amiss. Now, in the quiet comfort of your bathroom, Hotch took on the role of caretaker with a gentleness that made your heart swell despite the pain.

You sat on the closed lid of the toilet, watching him gather supplies—antiseptic, cotton pads, and some fresh bandages. The care with which he handled each item, his movements deliberate and focused, was a quiet testament to his concern for you. As he turned to you, his expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with an unspoken promise of tenderness.

"Let's get this cleaned up," he murmured, wetting a cotton pad with antiseptic. His touch was feather-light as he dabbed at the cut on your lip, the one that had stopped bleeding but still throbbed with every movement. You flinched slightly, not from pain, but from the intimacy of the gesture, the proximity in a moment filled with so much vulnerability.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this," Hotch said quietly, the weight of his emotions making his voice thick and unusually expressive. He paused, his hands steady as he tended to your wounds, but his heart was anything but calm. "I should have—"

The words trailed off as a tide of frustration and guilt surged within him. Hotch despised the feeling of helplessness, the gnawing thought that he might have prevented your pain had he anticipated the threat more effectively. It was a violation of his deepest principles, both as a protector and a partner, to see you hurt and know he had not been there to prevent it.

He gazed at your face, noting the bruises that marred your skin, each one a stark reminder of the violence you endured. It pained him to see these tangible signs of trauma on someone he cared deeply about. The instinct to shield you from harm was ingrained in his very nature, honed through years of leading a team that faced danger daily. Yet here, in the quiet of your shared space, the reality that you had faced such danger alone was a bitter pill to swallow.

As Hotch looked into your eyes, seeing the trust and understanding there despite the shadows of the recent ordeal, he felt a renewed surge of resolve. His role was not just to protect but to support and ensure such a breach never occurred again. This incident, while closed legally, would prompt him to reevaluate his own vigilance. The emotional undercurrent of this moment, the blend of regret and protective fervor, was a powerful catalyst for Hotch. It reinforced the essential truth that his duty to protect you extended beyond the physical; it was emotional, a bond forged in mutual respect and shared trials.

The silence that followed his unfinished apology was filled with a heavy understanding. He knew you didn’t blame him—you had faced the situation with incredible resilience. But he held himself to a standard that was often unrelenting. Hotch needed to articulate this, not just for you to hear, but for him to acknowledge it openly.

“You shouldn’t have had to handle this alone,” he continued, his voice firmer, reflecting his internal commitment. “I’m here, and I will do everything in my power to ensure you never feel that isolated again. We’ll increase security protocols, and I’ll personally review them.”

His promise was not just words; it was a vow, a pledge of his ongoing commitment to your safety and well-being. Hotch knew that recovery from such events wasn’t just about physical healing—it was about restoring a sense of security and normalcy. He was prepared to lead that effort, standing by you as both your staunchest ally and your devoted partner.

"Don't," you interrupted gently, placing a hand over his. "Don't do that to yourself. You couldn’t have known. And you were there when it mattered. You’ve always been."

He looked at you, really looked, as if seeing you anew, and nodded slowly. "It's over now," he reassured you and himself more than anyone. "He's in custody, and he's not getting out anytime soon. Strauss is making sure of it."

You nodded, feeling the weight of the past weeks begin to lift ever so slightly. "It’s hard to believe it’s over," you admitted, allowing yourself to lean into his care, into the promise of safety his presence provided.

"It is, though. And we're going to make sure you're safe, that this never happens again," Hotch said, his voice firm with conviction. He finished bandaging a smaller scrape on your cheek, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary, as if to impart comfort through his touch.

You reached up, your hand brushing against his. "Thank you, Aaron. For everything. I don’t know how I would have handled all this without you."

Hotch’s hand covered yours, his grip warm and reassuring. "You're not alone in this. You’ll never be," he said, his gaze holding yours. "We’re in this together, remember?"

As you nodded, a silence fell between you, comfortable and healing. It was the kind of silence that spoke of shared struggles and mutual support, of battles fought and won together. Hotch finally stood, helping you to your feet.

"Let’s get some rest," he suggested, his tone lightening a bit as he led you toward the bedroom. "You need to heal, and I need to make sure you stop finding trouble," he added, a hint of humor glimmering through the residual tension of the day.

You chuckled softly, leaning against him as you walked. "Deal," you replied, knowing that whatever the future held, you faced it not alone but together, stronger and more united than ever.

Tag List:

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[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 8: Line in the Sand

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: For your last few days on the island, you and Joel spend as much time together as possible. Glenn announces the winner of the land at dinner on the last day and new secrets come to light about Joel's past.

Chapter Warnings: language, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, mentions and discussions of prior violence against reader and OC, descriptions of healing wounds, reader has long-ish hair, fluff, angst, smut (18+ MDNI), shower sex, unprotected piv sex, possessive behavior, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), alcohol consumption, verbal altercation with the woman we all love to hate

WC: 10.1K

Series Masterlist

It's starting. It's just the beginning. Soon, you'll see.

You'll see the kind of man he really is. And then you'll want nothing to do with him.

He told Glenn to come up to the room while you both scrambled to get decent, his heart thudding wildly in his chest but not because of Glenn and what he anticipated to be a very difficult conversation. No, he was terrified because when you heard what he was capable of, you would never look at him the same again.

You slipped your hand into his when you left his bedroom, your free hand fidgeting nervously with your hair, trying to conceal the brutal marks left on your face when a loud knock came at the door.

Joel let you go and motioned towards the couch before taking a deep breath and jogging lightly up the three steps from the sunken living room to answer the door.

Glenn's face was unreadable when Joel first laid eyes on him. He looked tired and worn out, but it was impossible to tell much else. His usual jovial spirit was long gone and replaced with a stony expression when he solemnly nodded to Joel in greeting before stepping into the foyer and sliding his shoes off.

"Got someplace where we can talk?" he asked.

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, ushering him towards the living room where you sat waiting and anxiously fiddling with the edge of a soft white blanket. Glenn locked eyes with you, his gaze sweeping around your face, clocking the bruise under your eye and the nasty gash on your lip but also the terrified look in your face, swollen from your tears and injuries alike.

"Jesus, honey," Glenn breathed, shaking his head and dropping his chin. He pinched the bridge of his nose before looking back up at you. "Do you need anything? You need a doc? I got someone who'll make house calls within the hour."

You shook your head and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I'm okay. Looks worse than it feels by now."

Joel stepped past Glenn to join you on the couch, placing a protective hand on your leg before motioning for Glenn to have a seat across from you, bracing himself for what was to come.

Glenn settled into the couch with the deep groan of a man who had been up all night. Joel could see more in his face now that he had help from the sunlight. Glenn was tired, sure, but he was also... scared?

"Well, no use in beating around the bush," Glenn began, brushing his palms on his khaki shorts. "Been a long night for everyone."

Joel nodded and you dropped your gaze to the floor. Here we go.

Glenn's eyes darted to Joel's hand, the one placed on your leg, the one that sported red scrapes on the knuckles like a badge of honor. He didn't flinch. Didn't try to hide it. Joel stood by what he did, regardless of how deranged he felt doing it.

Then, Glenn's voice cut through the fog settling around Joel's brain, the one readying all his excuses and arguments.

"I'm sorry."

Joel blinked and stared at Glenn, waiting for him to finish his thought, but it never came. So, Joel did it for him.

"Sorry for... takin' back the land?"

He felt you stiffen beside him and then your eyes were burning holes into the side of his head.

Glenn scoffed and shook his head.

"I ain't taking back the land, Joel. Christ."

Your eyes were now bouncing back and forth between them both, remaining silent while trying to keep up. Joel couldn't blame you because he himself was having trouble and you knew even less than him.

"Are you - y'mean -"

Glenn gave him a look of disbelief and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees while Joel began to rub nervous circles over your knee with the pad of his thumb.

"Joel, I didn't come here to go back on my word. The spot's yours. Hell, it was yours less than a week in. Knew it from the first night you were here. At dinner. Remember?"

He pointed a finger at you both, gaze sliding back and forth at your dumbstruck faces.

"You're different now, Joel. Different from the man I knew, and I mean that in the best way," Glenn continued, giving you a pointed look. Your cheeks warmed at the implication you had anything to do with it and you focused on your hands fidgeting in your lap. "And you said you'd hire locals for construction and design. That means a lot to me. This place means a lot to me. I want to see it thrive, I don't want to see someone take that land and make it just another source of revenue." Glenn scratched at the stubble on his jaw when he paused for a moment, his eyes still bouncing between you both. "I believe you'll treat this land and its people with respect. That's why you're gettin' the spot, Joel."

Joel nodded, glancing quickly at you before looking back at Glenn. "Thank you. Then, uh, what're you sorry for?"

Glenn's eyes dropped to his hands, fingers laced together tightly between his knees. His jaw tensed and brow furrowed when he finally said, "I'm sorry for what my boy did."

You looked at Joel, waiting for him to reply, but he just sat back and put his arm around your shoulders, deferring to you.

Clearing your throat, you met Glenn's eye and gave him a soft smile.

"Thank you. I don't think he meant to take it as far as he did-"

"No need to make excuses for him, honey," Glenn said sadly. "He's been struggling with substance abuse for some time. Combined with his short temper and... well... he's been difficult to deal with the past few years. Been giving him chance after chance to prove himself but I'm afraid this time is unforgivable."

You fell silent and looked to Joel again. He tightened his fingers around your shoulder and shifted a bit in his seat.

"'M sorry, too," he said, his tone somber. "Shouldn'tve done what I did. Came home from the boat last night and saw her," Joel nodded to you, eyes locking with yours before continuing, "and I just lost it. Shoulda called you or somethin' first."

Glenn shook his head and waved Joel off.

"I'm not looking for an apology. He deserved to be put in his place. Never in my life thought he'd do something like this to a woman, made me and Mary sick to our stomachs."

Joel ticked his jaw to the side before awkwardly asking, "He outta the hospital?"

You whipped your head in Joel's direction, eyes widened with shock.

"Yeah. Cops came to speak to him around five this morning. Don't worry, he didn't say a word 'bout you."

"Wouldn't blame either of you if you did," Joel countered, flexing and stretching the fingers on his right hand.

"Was sorta hoping we leave the cops out of the whole situation, for both our sakes," Glenn explained, guilt lacing his voice as he sidestepped the obvious request: please don't call the cops on my son.

Once again, Joel deferred to you. You were still reeling from the fact Joel put Brooks in the fucking hospital, and now both men were looking for you to make the ultimate decision.

"It- it's fine," you stammered, "I don't want either of you to get in trouble," you added, looking at Joel now.

Both men appeared visibly relieved.

"I appreciate that more than you know," Glenn told you, drawing your gaze off Joel. "I promise you, he'll be dealt with. Mary and I had a tough conversation this morning but we've both agreed to leave the business solely with Trevor and focus on getting Brooks the help he needs."

"That's probably for the best," Joel replied.

Glenn gave you each a sad smile before taking a deep breath and standing with a groan.

"I'll get outta your hair now. Been a long night for everyone, but I'm still hoping I'll see you Friday night for dinner. Not much time left now to enjoy the island and I'd like to announce my decision to the group."

Joel stood while you remained curled up on the couch.

"'Course. Well, dependin' on how she feels," he said, glancing down at you. You gave him a small smile in agreement before he stepped forward to walk Glenn to the door. You could hear the two men talking quietly in the foyer, something about Mary finding a good rehab facility on a neighboring island, but your head was beginning to pound from a combination of what you just learned and the bruise under your eye to really pay much attention.

"Are you okay?" Joel asked the moment the door clicked shut behind Glenn. You looked up to see him crossing the room with a concerned look on his face. "That was a lot. I-I'm sorry, I could tell you were overwhelmed-"

"Why didn't you tell me about the land?"

He stopped a few feet away from you and looked over his shoulder where your phone and purse remained on the dining room table.

"I did. I texted you last night, but," he turned back around, guilt flashing across his face. "Couldn't tell you in person after what happened. Thought I lost it and didn't wanna upset you."

"Oh," you said softly, blinking slowly a few times before standing. "You... he had to go to the hospital?"

Joel chewed his lower lip nervously and nodded, fingers fidgeting at his sides while he tried to read your expression. He wanted to go to you. He wanted to pull you close and explain everything, but he was terrified of scaring you off. Now that he had a taste of you, he knew deep down if he lost you, he would never recover.

Now you'll understand the type of man he is. The type of man that stops at nothing to get what he wants. The type of man who hurts people if he has to, regardless of who they are.

But then, to his surprise, you closed the gap between you and wrapped your arms around him, wordlessly burying your face against his chest. He immediately responded, exhaling loudly and cocooning you in his arms. A few strands of your hair fluttered when he pressed his mouth against the top of your head and closed his eyes.

It was bliss, having you tucked into him. Your perfect, soft body pressed against his made him wonder why the hell he resisted you for so long. You didn't run when you learned what he was capable of, maybe you wouldn't run if you learned the rest.

"It's almost noon," you mumbled, pulling your head back to gaze up at him. "What do you want to do today?"

He grinned and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"Anything you want."

The Holi Festival was a colorful and beautiful celebration of love and good over evil. You learned this very quickly when you were strolling the streets hand in hand after lunch, drawn to the noise and music in the center of the little town.

You let out a squeal of excitement and squeezed Joel's hand when you turned the corner and saw the festival in full swing. Rich scents of sweet and savory foods filled the air and vibrant colors of powder paint were tossed around, coating everybody and everything in vivid bright pinks, yellows, greens and blues. It took your breath away. Never in your life had you ever seen something so unique and beautiful. Smiling faces filled the town square with buckets of colorful powder scattered around. Hands dipped into jars and bowls, scooping up the paint to brush against loved one's faces, decorating everybody in the most beautiful colors.

You tried to hang back and just observe, but the Indo-Fijians were such a lovely people that they ushered you over, excited to include you even if you didn't fully understand the meaning behind the festival. Initially, you expected Joel to pull you back, to say you should keep walking, but shockingly he was just as intrigued as you. A sweet young woman named Lia brought you over to a covered area where her family had set up chairs and tables filled with plates and food and a small speaker blaring Indian music.

"May I?" she asked, pointing to the powders on the curb. You grinned and looked up at Joel, practically bouncing from excitement. And how could he say no? After what you had been through, anything that made you smile that much was worth it.

You nodded and dropped his hand so you could sit down and let Lia apply the paints as she saw fit. Initially, you thought the colors were random, that it was more of an aesthetic thing, but she paused and contemplated her choices, her dark brown eyes shifting back and forth between you and Joel before smiling and scooping up a handful of red paint and smearing it carefully over your face, avoiding your injuries and not asking any questions.

"What does the red symbolize?" you asked when you stood to look at your reflection in a small hand mirror. She only laughed and said, "You'll see."

She applied a lime green paint to Joel's cheeks, telling him the same thing when he asked the meaning, then offered you each a plate of food. You declined, explaining you just ate, and thanked her for her hospitality before venturing back out onto the street. Live music was starting two blocks down and an area was being cleared for dancing. You both found a bench just outside of the main area to sit together and enjoy the festivities, commenting on the outfits, the music, the dancing, the overall beauty of the festival with your legs slung across his lap until the sun began to dip below the trees and the children were ushered home to bed.

"We oughta get outta here before the real fun starts," Joel joked, standing from the bench and holding out his hand. You took it and let him help you up, then walked slowly back in the general direction of your hotel.

"I'm so happy you won the land," you told him, hand wrapping around his bicep and head tilting to rest against his arm. "These people and this island are so lovely. I can see why Glenn cares about it so much."

"Was thinkin' of offerin' that artist you liked a job," Joel said, "if they want to, I could commission 'em to paint for the hotel. Everythin' from the lobby to the rooms."

"Really?" you said excitedly. He nodded and grinned, pleased he could make you so happy.

You stopped in the middle of the street and turned to stretch up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips gently against his.

"Careful," he murmured, yet made no move to pull away, the taste of your lips so sweet and still coated in sugar from the pastry-type dessert he bought from a street vendor.

"It doesn't hurt so much now," you told him, looking up at him through your lashes. Joel swallowed tightly, his eyes roaming all over your face, still painted bright red. He brought a hand up to cup your jaw, his thumb gliding slowly over your cheek, swiping through the paint and leaving a trail up towards your ear, up where his hand got lost in your hair and his mouth hungrily found yours again. People in a nearby cafe were laughing and across the street, two dogs were barking at one another while their owners tried to break them apart but as far as either one of you were concerned, you were completely alone.

Joel leaned into the kiss, fingers threading through your hair, clutching you to him as he struggled to be gentle. He had to be careful with you. You were still fragile, despite what you might say. But god, did he want you. Every single thing about you drove him wild. Your taste, your smell, your laugh, the little crease between your eyebrows when you were worried, the strands of hair that were too short to tuck behind your ear and frequently dangled in front of your eyes. Your entire presence cocooned around him to the point where it drove him insane.

"We should celebrate," you panted, tipping your head back to break the kiss. He dragged in deep breaths, fighting for air and staring down into your lust filled eyes, no doubt mirroring his own. "You got what you came here for."

"Then let's celebrate," he mumbled, brain wrapped in a rosy haze, drunk from your kiss alone.

He leaned in again, uncaring of any pedestrians passing by and doing a double take at your very public display of affection, but you giggled and dodged him, making his lips curve up into a playful smile right before he pressed a kiss behind your ear.

"W-what do you want to do to celebrate?" you asked, eyes sliding closed, body melting into his hold as he continued to kiss your neck. "Do you want to get a drink somewhere, or - shit," you moaned softly when his hands pulled your hips against his to feel his erection through his jeans. "Or maybe we can find that place that has fire dancers."

"I wanna go back to the room," he whispered in your ear, "and I wanna take a shower."

"Okay," you breathed, eyelids fluttering as you continued to fall under his spell.

"And I want you to shower with me."

"Yes, that's a great idea," you breathlessly agreed, breaking away and swiveling around in his arms to practically drag him the remaining few blocks to your hotel.

You felt like you were floating.

Soap mixed with red and green circled the drain. Steam swirled around you, the warmth from the shower making your sticky skin even hotter. You felt boneless, mouth agape and fingers shaky from the way Joel knelt before you, licking and sucking ruthlessly at your center. Knowing he wouldn't be able to kiss you the way he really wanted, he was taking out all his frustration right between your legs, and you were helpless to do anything about it. You were weak. So weak in every possible way for him that if you had a choice, you would succumb and slink to the shower floor. But his broad shoulders hoisted you up, his big hands gripped your hip and thigh, and you knew he wouldn't let you fall.

Rivulets of water dripped down your neck, arms, and stomach, leaving trails down your overly sensitive skin, making you shudder and gasp. The build up was too intense that it was ruining you and he hadn't even fucked you yet. The walk back to the hotel was interrupted when Joel couldn't wait a second longer and he tugged you into a narrow alley. He dragged his mouth as lightly as he could over yours while his hand found its way between your legs, two fingers rubbing firm circles over the damp fabric of your panties until neither of you could stand it any longer. He tugged your underwear to the side and sunk both fingers inside you, his body blocking you from being seen by anyone who might have caught a glimpse from the street.

Your fingers clutched desperately at his shirt, one of the shirts you had picked out for him on your first day on the island, and you whimpered against his lips or throat, anywhere you could find to try and stabilize yourself while he tore you apart. His name fell from your lips over and over, your face scrunched up in concentration and jaw clenched tightly until your climax washed over you and every muscle relaxed, every word dying on your tongue until you nearly collapsed.

The ache between your legs was soothed, but it only served to make Joel hungrier and more desperate.

You figured that out when he rushed you into the shower, pushing you up against the glass wall and falling to his knees before the water was even warm. Streaks of green dripped down his face and stained his beard while his tongue swirled and sucked at your clit with a deep groan, which was the same position you found yourself ten minutes later on the brink of your second orgasm that threatened to destroy you from the inside out.

And you were almost there, teetering on the edge when his eyes flashed open and locked onto yours. He looked different, then. Like he was finally letting down those walls and showing you everything. You saw a myriad of emotions behind his eyes: longing and lust mixing with adoration and warmth. It sent you careening into your next orgasm, shouting his name so loud your throat fucking hurt, your voice bouncing and echoing inside the glass walls.

He pulled away looking pleased, mouth and beard all shiny and slick, eyes never leaving yours as you struggled to come back to earth.

Carefully, he set you down on wobbly legs, giving you a smug smirk before angling his face towards the luxurious rainfall shower head. He rinsed off the rest of the green paint before wetting a washcloth and turning back to you. With all the care in the world, he tipped your chin up, his thumb pressing gently into the soft flesh between your jaw while he worked on cleaning your face next. You gazed up at him with a soft, stupid expression, but you couldn't help yourself. You'd never felt more relaxed and at peace in your life, and it was all because of him.

Him. This man you once deemed haughty, conceited, rude, and brash you now viewed with so much affection that it would have rattled you if he gave you a chance to come up for air.

Joel ushered you forward, rinsing your hair and warming you up under the steady stream of water before squirting some citrusy smelling shampoo in his palm and gently combing it through your hair. You sighed and tipped your head back, body betraying your still very desperate need for him. His thick fingers gingerly rinsing the soap from your hair was so relaxing, you thought you might fall asleep standing up. That is, until you felt his cock, still hanging hard and heavy between his legs, nudge against your hip and your eyelids snapped open.

"We don't gotta," he assured you, voice deep and soft behind you. "Been a long day."

You snaked your hand behind you and wrapped your fist around him. He hissed and his fingers in your hair faltered for a moment as you slowly stroked him up and down.

"I want it," you begged, voice still raw. His cock twitched in your palm and you heard his breath stutter before he leaned down to press a wet kiss against the crook of your neck.

"You sure?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, working your hand a little faster. The glass had steamed up but you could still see his reflection, his brows pinched and jaw hung open, allowing himself to enjoy your hand on him for just another moment more before gripping your shoulder and walking you towards the wall. He took both your wrists, shushing your whine when you were forced to let him go, and placed your open palms against the glass.

A thrill of excitement shot through you when he knocked your ankle to the side with his foot. You immediately widened your stance and arched your back, anticipating exactly what he wanted.

"So pretty," he murmured behind you, his palm sliding down your shoulder, over your back and wrapping around your hip. You tried to peer at him in the reflection of the glass but your own nervous exhale was clouding your limited view.

You jumped a little when the tip of his cock slid through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. He chuckled before leaning down and biting playfully at your earlobe.

"Sensitive?"

You nodded and closed your eyes when he notched himself at your entrance. And somehow, your cunt still ached for him despite the two orgasms he already gave you in the past hour.

You lifted yourself onto the tips of your toes and gasped when he pushed inside, the stretch burning yet it still felt so fucking good. You moaned and pressed your wet forehead to the foggy glass wall, relishing in the way he filled you so perfectly when he sunk the rest of the way inside you.

"Fuck, so tight," Joel groaned into your hair. "So tight, 'n so fuckin' good," he added, voice a little shaky when he first dragged his hips back just to slam them into you again. He set a steady pace right away, his need for you way too fucking high after watching you come on his fingers and tongue.

"Oh, god," you whimpered, fingers clawing fruitlessly against the slippery wall as he fucked you, knocking your cheek and shoulders into the glass over and over and over again with each impossibly deep thrust.

"You're the most beautiful fuckin' thing," he growled in your ear, the fast puffs of exhale leaving his pursed lips sending goosebumps over your skin. "Drive me crazy, you got no idea. No idea how bad I want this, want you."

You whined and squirmed in his grasp, cock reaching a place so deep inside you that it had your mind going blank and your vision going blurry with tears.

"Yeah, you like that, huh?" he rasped, teeth scraping delicately over your skin, hands roaming freely over your body, claiming every inch of you as his. "Take it so fuckin' good, baby, shit," he ground his molars together, pounding into you harder now while your fingers curled into tight fists against the steamy glass. "That's my girl, so good f'me. So fuckin' good f'me," he rambled like a mad man, unable to stop himself now from selfishly chasing his high when he was so close. But he wasn't that selfish. He needed to make sure you came, too.

He snaked his arms around your front, one hand finding your nipple, pinching and rolling it between two fingers while his other dropped past your waist to rub tight circles over your clit. You cried out, face twisting as you did your best to give him what he wanted, but you were so sensitive that the pleasure bordered on pain.

"Tell me what you need," he demanded, sensing the tension in your muscles. When you struggled to answer, he slowed his hips and your eyes flew open.

"Don't stop."

"Then talk to me," he pleaded, "tell me-"

"Say it again," you groaned, pushing your ass back.

"Say what?" he panted, grinding his hips against you.

"Say..." you cursed under your breath, eyelids fluttering when the finger he had over your clit added the slightest bit more pressure. "Say... I'm your girl," you told him, embarrassment flooding your cheeks the moment you asked.

He grinned and descended upon your neck, sucking and biting at the tender spot behind your ear so when he lifted his mouth and whispered, "You're my girl," there was no way you could miss it over the splashing of water against the tile and glass. Almost as if it were a command, your muscles stiffened and you moaned softly, too tired and too spent to offer much else as your orgasm slowly rolled through you, clenching down around his aching cock, practically milking him with each pulse and flutter of your cunt.

"Fuck, that's it," he muttered, pulling back so he could watch himself disappear inside you over and over. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! You- you like that? Hm? That's all it took?"

He could feel the liquid heat pooling low in his belly and creeping up his spine, seconds away from his own release.

"Shit, baby, y'know you're mine. All - fuckin' - mine," he grunted, punctuating each word with a harsh snap of his hips. Your body was so soft now that he made you come for a third time, so tired and pliant, but still eager to give him what he needed. "My girl... all mine... my girl..." he muttered over and over when his grip on your ribs suddenly tightened and he spilled inside you with a deep groan, hips jolting into you haphazardly as he emptied himself into your waiting pussy, thrusting upwards until he felt his spend leak out of you and back down his shaft.

"Fuck, baby," he gasped, breath shaky and uneven against the back of your head. His vision was a little wobbly but he blinked it away. He could feel you were beginning to slip, all your strength having been sapped, and if he wasn't so exhausted himself, he might have felt a flash of pride.

"Ah," he grunted softly when he slipped out of your wet clutch, and sure enough your hips immediately dropped and your legs trembled so he tightened his hold around your middle and pulled you up, pressing your back against his chest.

"I gotcha, c'mon," he murmured, leading you to the opposite side of the shower where a built in bench sat with only a few toiletries on top. You slumped down, resting your cheek against the cool tile wall and wrapping your arms around yourself while he found a fresh washcloth and soaked it under the spray of the shower so he could clean you up.

"You're cold," he remarked when he noticed your goosebumps. Your tired, glazed over eyes found his but you didn't respond, so he scooped you up by your underarms and held you against him under the warm water until you came alive again.

"You did so good," he praised, closing his eyes as the water cascaded down both your bodies.

"'M s'tired," you mumbled, and he nodded before shutting off the water and leading you to the glass door. He grabbed a pristine white robe and wrapped it around your shoulders, cinching the tie tight before getting one for himself and helping you to his bed.

"What'dya need? I got water right here," he told you, pointing to the bottle of cold water on the nightstand. Your nightstand.

"Nothing. Just you," you said sleepily, reaching feeble little arms out underneath the covers for him. He grinned and shed his robe before climbing into bed and curling around you, tugging you close and keeping you warm.

"You got me," he said when your eyelids began to droop and your body melted into his. Only when your breathing slowed and he was fairly confident you were on the brink of sleep did he softly add, "You've always had me," then nuzzled his face against the back of your neck and closed his eyes.

Only a few more days! I know you're just overjoyed to leave paradise and come back home to me

You grinned at your text from Celine, Joel's heavy arm still draped protectively around your waist and snoring softly next to you in the morning light.

I miss you so much!! But I'll miss this place, too. I have sooooo much to tell you

You watched as the three little dots appeared and disappeared a few times before her next text appeared.

Tell me now!! You slept with him, didn't you?

You chewed on your lip and glanced quickly at Joel, confirming he was still asleep before answering.

Maybe

YOU SLUT!

You stifled a giggle but Joel felt the muscles in your stomach jump. You dropped your phone to your chest when he inhaled deeply and stretched a bit under the covers. When you determined he was still fast asleep, you lifted your phone back up to answer, only to find another text from Celine waiting for you.

What does this mean then? Is he paying you more? He fucking better

You knew she didn't mean it, but her text was like a punch in the gut. You didn't want money for sleeping with him. What you really wanted was him, but you had no idea what the past few days meant to him. And you definitely didn't know how to ask him if your relationship would continue after you left the island.

Based on your previous conversations, he didn't seem like a 'relationship guy', so that left two options: him saying no, or him offering to keep you employed as a sugar baby. Both made your stomach churn.

Suddenly, the thought of him paying you for anything made you feel sick. You signed a contract and he was very generous: three months of rent and utilities plus twenty grand, not to mention whatever tip money he had given you that was still buried and unopened in the bottom of your bag. But in that moment, lying next to him in bed surrounded by his warmth and a dull soreness between your legs, you realized you didn't want a single cent. You only wanted one thing and you were terrified he couldn't, or wouldn't, give it to you.

He's paying me way more than he should - I gtg but I'll let you know when I'm on my way home <3

Love you! Enjoy the last piece of paradise for me!

"You're up early," he mumbled with his eyes still closed. His voice was so gravelly and thick with sleep that it had you wilting in a mere moment.

You should have known right then and there that you were in too deep, that you stood a very real chance at getting hurt, but you were too wrapped up in the little bubble you found yourselves in to see it.

"It's actually not that early," you teased, turning on your side to face him, his hands sliding around your waist and then lower to cup your ass. He kept his eyes closed but the corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk. Fuck, he looked so good in the morning, all bare chested with tangled, messy hair. You didn't stand a chance. "It's just past nine," you added, tugging your lower lip between your teeth to try and tamper the huge, dopey grin that threatened to stretch across your face.

Joel hummed and cracked an eyelid open to peer at you.

"I got a call at ten."

"Okay," you whispered, eyes drifting over his face, eager to memorize every little detail in the soft morning light. He grinned and opened his eyes all the way, looking at you like he was studying you in the exact same way.

"We have almost an hour," you said suggestively, then giggled when he barked out an incredulous laugh.

"Christ, you're insatiable," he chuckled before rolling onto his back and dragging a palm roughly over his face.

"I never said that! You're assuming something dirty when I was simply pointing out a fact."

"Oh, s'that it?" Joel asked, dropping his hand to his chest so he could look at you with a crooked smile.

"Mhmm," you hummed before resting the side of your head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his middle. He was so warm and it felt so nice to just lay with him, his hand soothingly drifting up and down your back while your finger traced invisible circles over his bare chest. Your thoughts inevitably wandered back to your brief conversation with Celine, wondering how you could bring up the elephant in the room.

Did he really expect this to end in a few short days? Was he just treating you like a sugar baby this whole time? You had nothing to compare it to, you had no idea what a typical sugar daddy relationship was like.

When you really thought about it, there wasn't much you truly knew about Joel. He never told you about his family, friends or exes. In fact, the only personal relationship you did know about was the one he had with Tammy.

Well, it was a start.

You cleared your throat nervously and he could immediately tell something was off.

"Somethin' on your mind?" he asked, offering you an opening.

It was now or never.

"Can I ask you something?" you began timidly. His fingers drifting aimlessly over your skin paused and he took a moment before answering.

"Sure," he replied slowly. Hesitantly.

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his eye, so you focused on tracing a small, old scar on his chest.

"Why did you... what made you... and Tammy..."

You cringed when you heard how stupid you sounded but he just sighed and resumed his soft strokes over your arm.

"Why was I fuckin' her?"

"Yeah," you confirmed sheepishly, bracing yourself for yet another non-answer.

"You ain't gonna like it," he warned, and at that you had to lift your chin to look at him.

"Why?"

His eyes dropped to meet your gaze and you could see him struggling to respond.

"I told you. I ain't a good man," he told you quietly, his tone laced with guilt.

This was it. You were finally going to find out what had been holding Joel back all this time. You swallowed and wordlessly urged him to continue.

"Y'know what the LHW Awards are?"

You shook your head and his eyes drifted to the ceiling.

"Every year, hotels 'round the world get nominated for these awards. There's different categories, it's very competitive and they ain't easy to win," he continued. "Two years ago, I got my first nomination: best hotel in North America."

Joel paused as you tried to piece together how this related to Tammy. Then he added, "Scott was also nominated, same category," and the gears in your head began to turn.

"You didn't win," you said matter-of-factly. Joel shook his head.

"No, I didn't."

"But Scott did."

"Yes."

You took a deep breath, finally connecting the dots.

"So you were pissed..." you began.

"And I fucked his wife."

"Oh," you replied, surprised at his bluntness.

"Told you," he reminded you. "It was stupid, I was angry and knew she always had a thing for me. It was only supposed to be one time, but..." he trailed off, still avoiding your eye. "I don't know. Was a lot easier bein' with someone when it was convenient, someone who had their all their cards on the table and I didn't have to worry 'bout takin' advantage of me for my money. Not when she had so much to lose."

"Oh," you said again, unable to come up with anything else to say. And you tried, you really did, not to draw a comparison between your relationship with Joel and his relationship with Tammy, but it was hard not to notice the similarities. A relationship of convenience, a contract in place to protect his wealth... but what you had together was different. Right? There was no possible way he cared for Tammy as affectionately the way he did with you.

"What're you thinkin'?" he asked, and you swore he sounded a little nervous.

"Did... did you love her?"

"No," he said immediately, "never been in love, remember?"

"Right," you whispered, vaguely remembering that day in the pool. Ain't sure it's in the cards for me. You rubbed your eyes and slipped out of his hold, sitting up in bed with the sheet loosely covering your upper body. "Did she love you?"

Joel hesitated and you tore your gaze away from your tangled fingers to look at his shame filled face.

"Maybe. She never said but I had a feelin'."

You nodded and let your eyes drift towards the glass doors facing the ocean, watching as small waves crashed on the shore.

"Is that why you broke things off?" you asked bravely, already knowing the answer.

"Yes."

Feeling bad for Tammy was definitely not something you expected to feel, but now having learned more about her relationship with Joel, her actions began to make a little more sense. She was hurt.

"I broke it off 'cause I was tryin' to protect her," Joel explained when he saw the look on your face. "I knew I couldn't give her what she wanted and I didn't wanna lead her on."

"Yeah, I get it," you told him. You felt uneasy but you pushed it away, vowing to deal with it another time. The important thing was Joel opened up to you. He told you something he very clearly didn't plan on sharing, something that he carried with great guilt and shame. Maybe now that he got it off his chest, he would stop thinking he was such a bad man and let you in. You reached for his hand and he looked up at you in surprise.

"I understand," you told him, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze.

"You think any less of me now?" he asked sarcastically with a smirk, but you could see the truth behind his eyes. He tried to pass it off as a joke, but he needed to hear you say it.

"No," you whispered, leaning down to press a tender kiss against his lips. He hummed under his breath and stole one more kiss before you straightened back up. "Thank you for being honest with me."

He grinned and stared down at your fingers still interlaced with his, wondering if this time might actually be different.

Despite the lingering apprehension that clung to you after Joel's confession, the last few days spent on the island were nothing short of perfect. So much so that it had you foolishly forgetting your arrangement together.

Joel did have to work during the days, but he found pockets of time between meetings to find you by the pool if you weren't out spending time with Zoe. And it was hardly your fault, really, for allowing yourself to lean into those fantasies when Joel's hands or lips always found your skin whenever he was around.

In the evenings, he took you to restaurants. Now that Glenn's decision was made, Joel had plenty of time for you. He even took you to a restaurant that had fire dancers perform on the beach, remembering you had mentioned wanting to see them days prior.

And once dinner was over, he always took you back to his bed. The only reason you stepped foot into your old room was to grab some clothes or a book. Some nights he fucked you, some nights he just held you close while you tried not to think about your trip coming to an end. If it weighed heavily on Joel's mind, he didn't show it. He remained laser focused on his goal right up until the end.

"What are you so nervous for?" you asked him as you leaned over one of the two sinks in his bathroom to apply your makeup. It was the night Glenn planned on announcing Joel as his pick, and his nerves were showing. His fidgeting in the mirror over the second sink was distracting. "He told you the land is yours."

"Yeah but until I got a contract, it ain't real," he told you, grumbling when he realized the buttons on his linen shirt were mismatched and he had to start over.

You put the last of your makeup into your bag and turned to him with a sigh, slapping his hands away so you could redo his buttons for him.

"You and your contracts," you teased, gaze focused on his shirt so you didn't have to look him in the eye when you made the first real reference to your arrangement in over a week.

Either Joel wasn't thinking about it the way you were or it went right over his head because he just tugged you closer with a seductive smile and murmured, "Can y'blame me? You woulda left the first week if I didn't have you sign that piece of paper."

Okay, so maybe you needed to leave stronger hints.

"How do you know?" you countered, still slowly buttoning his shirt.

Joel chuckled. "You didn't like me all that much when we got here."

You grinned and shrugged before lightly replying, "That's not true. I liked you," then nervously cleared your throat before adding, "Maybe not as much as I do now, but I liked you."

"Yeah? Y'liked me enough to stay here a whole month without me promisin' you twenty grand?" he asked playfully, still smirking to himself in the mirror as he fixed a few stray pieces of hair and you finished your work on his buttons.

"Yes."

When he heard the serious tone in your voice, his hands fell to his sides and his eyes dropped to meet yours, the smile slowly fading from his face when he confirmed you weren't joking.

You held your breath as the implication of what you said settled in. You could see him struggling with what to say and you fought the urge to fill the silence with your own nervous babbling. Instead, you watched him scan your face for any sign of insincerity, only to find none.

"Darlin'-"

Your heart plummeted when you both heard his phone chirp loudly on the white quartz countertop, ending the moment when he reached for it to announce your car was waiting downstairs.

But just when you thought you lost your chance and you began to gather a few things to shove into your purse, Joel stopped you with a gentle pinch to your chin.

"We'll talk 'bout this later, okay?"

You gave him a little smile and nodded before he released you to tuck in his shirt, walking out of the bathroom.

It wasn't a surprise that it was all you were thinking about the entire evening. You made sure to only have one drink, just enough to calm your nerves but keep your mind clear.

"Your lip looks really good. You can hardly tell anything happened," Zoe said quietly from the chair next to you at the long dinner table set up on the patio. Glenn and Mary had decided to host dinner at their house for everyone's last night on the island and it was the perfect night to be outside, the weather was gorgeous.

"Thanks. I got pretty creative with makeup," you joked, looking away from the empty chair at the other end of the table that no doubt was meant for Brooks, who had not shown up for dinner. You couldn't be sure if it was by choice or if he was still bedridden from whatever Joel did to him, but either way you were relieved not to have to face him again.

"I still have so much to pack," Zoe groaned, pushing around some scallops on her plate. "I'm gonna be up all night. What about you?"

"Yeah, same," you admitted, "I haven't even started yet."

"Guess that's the beauty of flying private... we can afford to be a little late!" she giggled, and you laughed with her, grateful for the brief distraction.

After dinner was cleared and dessert was about to be served, Glenn stood with a warm smile and tapped the side of his wine glass with a spoon, pulling everyone's attention within seconds.

"Oh, shit, here we go," Zoe muttered on your right side while Joel's hand found yours on the left, his thumb nervously fiddling with your ring.

"Mary and I wanted to thank each and every one of you for spending the last month on our little island," Glenn began, glancing lovingly down at his wife. "It's been wonderful getting to know all of you better, and we've loved sharing this slice of paradise with you."

His gaze drifted around the table, looking everyone in the eye before taking a deep breath.

"But this place is more than just paradise to us. This place is home. We love it here, we love the people and the culture and it's always been our top priority to make sure anybody who buys a plot of land here is the right fit." Glenn linked his fingers together to emphasize his point before continuing.

"We think of the locals here as our family, and it's no secret how important family is to us. So, when we made our decision on who should get this last piece of land, me and Mary took into consideration who would represent these core values of family and community. And I'll tell you all, it was not an easy decision," Glenn said with a soft laugh. "You all are wonderful people and I know any one of you would do wonderful things with this land, but unfortunately we can't fit five resorts into that plot."

A ripple of nervous laughter swept through the group. Joel squeezed your hand, his eyes still glued to Glenn standing at the head of the table. Then Glenn's gaze landed on Joel and he smiled while raising his glass.

"Joel... spot's all yours, buddy."

The table erupted into polite applause and Joel instantly turned to cup your face, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, then stood. He rounded the table to shake Glenn's hand and give Mary a hug while Zoe excitedly pinched your side.

"You better invite me to your wedding, I'm already dying for an excuse to come back here."

"Huh?" you asked, sounded delirious with all the commotion. By that point, everyone was standing to congratulate Joel and exchange polite words with Glenn and Mary, thanking them for their consideration and hospitality.

"Didn't you say you'd get married at the new hotel?" Zoe asked, tilting your head to the side. Then you remembered what you had said on the yacht and jokingly knocked the heel of your hand against your head.

"Yeah, duh. Of course you'll be invited, sorry, I think I forgot for a second," you laughed. Then you noticed Tammy down the table and you froze. She and Lynne were clearly pissed off, whispering angrily to one another with their faces all flushed and their perfectly manicured nails pointing in your direction and you frowned.

"What the hell's their problem?"

Zoe swiveled around then shrugged before turning back to you.

"Probably jealous Joel won."

Then Mary came bustling over to give you a hug, pulling your attention away from the other women and telling you she was so excited to spend more time together before lowering her voice and tearfully apologizing for her son's behavior.

"We sent him over to a facility this morning," she told you, her fingers wrapping around your wrists. You could see the despair in her eye and you couldn't help but feel sorry for her. At the end of the day, she was a mother worried for her son and for that, you couldn't fault her.

"I really hope he gets the help he needs," you told her sincerely.

"He went willingly. It took some convincing, but he came around and agreed he needed to get some help. I don't know where we went wrong..." she began, but you quickly shook your head.

"Oh, it's not your fault," you told her. "Everyone makes their own decisions and you just do the best you can to support the ones you love."

Mary smiled shakily at you and blinked back her tears.

"You'll make a wonderful mother one day, dear," she said. You laughed nervously and shook your head.

"Maybe in a few years," you told her.

One of the caterers gently tapped Mary's elbow, diverting her attention from you with an apologetic smile. You turned back to Zoe and glanced down at her empty glass.

What the hell. Two drinks wouldn't make much of a difference. Besides, you were celebrating.

"Want to pop inside real quick and raid the bar?" you asked her with a wink. She giggled and nodded before trotting after you.

"I know they have caterers, but I always thought I'd make a good bartender," you joked, sliding behind the wet bar attached to their dining room. "What can I get you, Miss?" you asked, giving yourself a fake accent as you pretended to polish an already spotless glass. Zoe laughed and hopped up onto a barstool.

"How about a mojito?"

Your hands paused on the glass and you narrowed your eyes at her, knowing full well she was messing with you and not expecting you to muddle mint and lime.

"Try again."

She tipped her head back and laughed louder this time, covering up the sharp rap of expensive high heels echoing off the marble floors, heading your way.

"Umm... do you have any white wine?"

You glanced down at the mini fridge and grinned.

"That I can do."

You pulled out a bottle and studied the label, having no idea if it was expensive or not but it was already opened so you figured it was fair game. Right when you popped the cork, Lynne and Tammy rounded the corner looking like they were on a mission.

"You!"

You and Zoe exchanged confused looks before turning back to the two women.

"Me?" you asked, pointing at your chest even though it was fairly obvious.

"Yes," Tammy hissed, coming closer to lean over the bar. Zoe scowled when Lynne squeezed her way in, encroaching on her personal space in the process.

"This is bullshit," Tammy snapped. "They only picked Joel because of Brooks and what he did. You probably encouraged it, didn't you? Tried to make something happen so Glenn would feel guilty and give Joel the land!"

You were so shocked, you lost your voice for a moment, only remembering to look at Zoe in disbelief.

"How the hell did you know about that?" Zoe argued, a good question that hadn't even occurred to you yet.

"Oh, please," Lynne said, waving her off as if she were an annoying fly. "We were right there in the restaurant, remember? The wait staff heard what happened and told us before you had even gotten into the car."

"I didn't do anything wrong!" you exclaimed, your brain finally catching up. "I certainly didn't ask for him to shove my face into the sink, what kind of fucked up question is that?"

Tammy snorted and crossed her arms. "I wouldn't put it past you. I wouldn't put it past either of you."

"Excuse me?" Zoe asked, standing up.

"Not you," Tammy said with a roll of her eyes. "Her and Joel."

You frowned, confused, until you remembered how Joel ending things with her and then it started to make sense.

"Listen," you said calmly, "I know you might still need some closure or something-"

"W-what?" Tammy sputtered, anxiously looking between you and the other women. It was clear she didn't think they knew, and maybe Lynne didn't, so you changed course.

"We can talk about what happened in private, if you prefer-"

"I have nothing to say to you," she spat. "Both of you are fucked in the head, you know that? Misleading poor Glenn like this, pretending like Joel is this sweet, caring family man. You know damn well if I tell Glenn the truth about Joel's daughter and brother, he never would get that land."

Tammy kept talking but all you could hear was a high pitched ringing in your ears. Brother? Daughter? Joel has a fucking daughter? Not once did Joel ever allude anything about his family when he was with you, but somehow Tammy knew?

"Shut the hell up!" you finally yelled. Surprisingly, Tammy's mouth clamped shut. "You think you're any better? Pretending to have this perfect marriage with your college sweetheart when two weeks ago you were trying to get my fiancé to fuck you in the bathroom of an art gallery?"

Lynne gasped and Zoe cackled into the palm of her hand while Tammy remained frozen.

"You could run out there right now and tell Glenn whatever it is you think you know, but if you do that, I'll be sure to tell Scott everything I know," you seethed, gripping the edge of the bar so tightly your fingers were beginning to hurt. "Would it be worth it? Hm? Because if Joel doesn't get that land, guess what? He'll be just fine. But you won't," you said, voice dropping to a threatening level. "Your marriage would be over. You'd have fucking nothing. So why don't you think real hard about what you want to say next."

Tammy's mouth opened and closed, her eyes darting around the room anxiously. It was clear you had her cornered. She finally scoffed and fixed a piece of hair before backing away from the bar.

"You're a bitch," she said lowly before turning on her heel to leave.

"Better than being a washed up old hag," Zoe called after her as Lynne hurriedly joined her side, disappearing down the hallway. Zoe turned back to you and burst out laughing.

"Maybe we need a couple shots instead," she said, shaking her head in shock. "I didn't know Joel had a daughter. How old is she?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Can we talk about it another time?" you asked weakly, leaning against the bar and hanging your head between your shoulders. It felt like you had just went twelve rounds and you were exhausted. Why wouldn't Joel tell you he had a daughter? Or a brother? And what the hell happened?

"Of course, yeah," Zoe said, quickly standing up to rub your back. "Want me to go get Joel?"

"Uh, no, that's okay," you said, rubbing your temples aggressively. "I think I'm getting a migraine, I'll find Joel myself so we can leave."

"God, I'm sorry. What a couple of bitches," Zoe said, wrapping an arm around you so she could lead you back outside. "You kicked ass, though. I'm proud of you, girl."

You laughed weakly as you both stepped through the glass doors, scanning the crowd of guests. "Thanks. And thanks for jumping in, too."

"No problem. Been waiting for my chance to knock that one down a peg," she said, giving you a kiss on your cheek when Joel spotted you and began to make his way over. "Hope you can at least celebrate," she added with a wink before disappearing to find Zachary.

"Hey," Joel said breathlessly with a huge smile. "Everythin' alright? Where'd you go?"

"Uh, actually I'm getting a bad headache," you told him, wincing when your fingertips pressed against your temple.

"Shit, alright, lemme say good night and we can go."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded and gave you a quick kiss, cursing your body for still having a reaction to him when you knew you should be mad.

After you had each said your good byes, which were mercifully quick, Joel led you to the car with one hand placed lightly on your lower back and the other clutching his phone.

"I gotta make a quick call," he told you once you were settled in and on your way back to the hotel. You nodded and gazed out the window while Joel spoke to someone, presumably his lawyer, about drawing up a contract for the land. All the while, his free hand held yours, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your knuckles while he spoke, the excitement in his voice palpable.

You decided by the time you got back to the hotel, you would give him one chance to come clean. You swore to yourself you wouldn't hold it against him, that you wouldn't care how or why Tammy would know something so personal about him, just as long as he told you the truth.

He took you to his bedroom, like usual, and brought you water with some extra strength Tylenol. You stared at the two little pills sitting on your nightstand while he washed up in the bathroom. It was undeniable how happy he made you now, and with that came a great risk of getting hurt if he wasn't honest with you.

"Need anythin' else? I can call the front desk for whatever you want," Joel said when he exited the bathroom. You shook your head and slipped underneath the covers, blankly staring at the ceiling while he took off his watch and plugged in his phone. You could feel your heart beating loudly in your chest as you mentally psyched yourself up to ask him the question that had been on your mind for the past hour.

"Joel?"

His hand, which hovered over the switch on his lamp, pulled back when he turned to face you.

"Yeah?"

"When you told me you thought you weren't a good man," you began, fingers twisting the sheets nervously, "did you say that because of what you told me about you and Tammy, or is there... anything else?"

He paused and you closed your eyes, waiting for his answer.

Please. Please don't lie.

"No, that was it."

Tears immediately burned behind your eyes, like they were just lying in wait, knowing he would disappoint you.

"Are you sure?" you asked quietly. He cleared his throat and turned off his light before sliding between the sheets.

"Yep."

You nodded in the darkness and turned onto your side, away from him.

"Okay."

Meaning of Holi Festival Colors

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[s-brant]

Make It Better

my masterlist (gif: @conradfiisher)

After getting into an argument with his brother, Conrad seeks out the comfort of a close friend.

8k (18+)

Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, strong language, and slight angst.

-

For every girl in Cousins, there was something about Conrad Fisher that made them go a little crazy. And for Y/N, a girl who grew up with the Fishers and Conklins next door every summer, it was the fact that he decided to choose her of all people to be with. Even if Belly had him first, it was all worth it to her.

With Conrad, it's all soft-spoken praises, feather light brushes off his fingertips against forbidden places, and sensual kisses. It's all she can see when she closes her eyes to sleep at night or merely blinks during the day. It's hard to keep it a secret when her mind refuses to stop recalling the memories at a constant rate. Still, she has to be on her best behavior seeing that it is the last night they have together before the house is officially sold by Aunt Julia. And to honor their summer house, they collectively decided to throw a goodbye party.

The vibration of the bass thumping within the walls of the house is strong enough to rattle her eardrums as she takes a shot with her arm interlinked with Cam Cameron's. He, of course, is drinking a can of soda, but she was quick to assuage his insecurity when he mentioned it. It was the thought that counted.

She and Cam have been friends since they were in middle school, so, when he joined their circle of friends through Belly last year, it made her happy to have him around in the way Jere, Steven, Conrad, and Belly always were. When he and Belly ended their fling, she was there for both of them. She hugged Cam for a minute straight before letting go and offering to cheer him up with ice cream. For Belly, she told her she did the right thing by not leading him on and told her to follow her heart, wherever it may lead her, as they swam in the pool.

How was Y/N supposed to know it would lead her straight into the arms of the boy she's always loved?

"Okay," Cam rips her from her thoughts as he speaks, shoving his hydroflask filled with ice water into her hands, "You are officially cut off for the night until I see you drink some of this. I think your blood may be fifty percent tequila at this point."

She frowns at him.

"You're no fun, but I appreciate you looking out," she says.

She stays with him to swallow a few generous mouthfuls of water before handing the bottle back to him with a quiet, "Thank you. M'gonna go find Connie and Steven."

The last she checked, the two of them were taking pictures with the Polaroid camera they bought at the store earlier. They called her and Belly over to take turns taking pictures together. One of them all together, one of Y/N and Steven, then Belly and Conrad, and, finally Y/N and Conrad.

It was hard to watch Belly pose with him considering their extensive history together, but he knew that, and when it was her turn to pose with him, he wrapped his hand around her waist and entwined his fingers in hers to give it a reassuring squeeze. This made it extremely difficult for her not to smile too hard as she looked at the camera lens.

After the flash went off, Steven, the only person to know the details of their recent, days-old affair, says, "Wait, one more! One more! You'll thank me later, I swear."

With Belly having skated off, Taylor doing God knows what, and Jere lingering not far from wherever Belly went, they didn't feel too worried when they were directed to hug for the camera. Her cheek squished against his, their chests rising and falling to meet one another like matching puzzle pieces, and the scent of his body wash—the proximity to him was intoxicating.

"Okay, smileee—"

The flash off went off, and they stayed together for a few seconds longer than necessary before reluctantly pulling apart.

Steven handed each of them one of the pictures with a wink before saying, "Alright, Taylor wants me to do shots with her. I'll probably be back soon."

Conrad got the first one and she got the second. They couldn't help how they smiled as they stood side by side to admire them. His was carefully placed in the back pocket of his pants, which then made her realize that she did not have any pockets herself.

"Can you keep it safe for me?" she asked with a bright, moony-eyed expression. Her hands then slid down the front of her dress to feel for any place to store the photograph only to come up empty. "It's my own fault. Shouldn't have worn a dress."

His eyes softened as they looked up and down the length of her body, then settled back on her eyes.

"No," he said before he could stop himself, "it's perfect."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she was about to open her mouth to speak when Cam and Skye called her name from across the room.

After a second, he spoke again, "I'll catch up with you later, Padme."

When he turned to walk away, he heard her giggle from behind his back at the inside joke shared between the two of them.

As she searches through the house for him now, she smiles to herself at the thought of it. It originated when they were mere children. After finishing a marathon of the Star Wars franchise in release order—the only correct way to watch it according to Susannah and Laurel—one summer, they all became obsessed with playing pretend with sticks as lightsabers. A week later, once it became apparent that it wasn't a fleeting phase, Susannah surprised them with toy lightsabers.

Somehow, they decided amongst themselves who was who, and it just so happened that Y/N was Padme and Conrad was Anakin. Jere and Steven made a deal to take turns playing Obi-Wan Kenobi since they originally both wanted to be him, and Belly, the youngest of the bunch, was so happy to be included that she would play whatever character they wanted her to for the day. The only roles that never changed were Anakin and Padme. Even when they got to the main trilogy in their game of pretend, Conrad played Darth Vader, and Y/N let Belly be Princess Leia while she played as Darth Sidious. One way or another, they were always paired in some way. Fated.

They much preferred playing as the star-crossed lovers as opposed to the pair of evil Sith Lords. It pleased her more than she ever let on that she and Conrad were together, even if it was just pretend. They've always teasingly called each other by those names ever since.

She peeks into every entryway when she walks by in hopes that she'll spot Conrad or Steven, but neither of them appears. It isn't until she steps out onto the front porch after searching the whole lower level of the house that she finds one of them. Well, actually, she hears one of them. Conrad.

"Jere, you know for a fact that I came home every second I could—"

"But it wasn't every day!"

Jeremiah, she notes as she stands with her back against the front door. Neither of them sees her.

"Okay, okay," Conrad retorts. "What do you want? A medal?"

What Jere says next makes her have to look away in the direction of the neighbor's yard, not wanting to see the heartbreak written across his brother's face as he calls him a coward. Her jaw tightens with every vitriolic word spewed at him. It isn't her place to interrupt, but it kills her to stand by and listen.

"You're not someone to look up to. You're not even someone I wanna know."

The universe must have a cruel sense of humor, because the second these words are said, someone trying to swing the door open against her back sends her stumbling forward into their line of vision. The sound of her falling to her hands and knees brings their attention away from one another instantly.

Her eyes meet Jeremiah's first, then they immediately switch to lock eyes with Conrad, and the first thing out of her mouth is, "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything. I just came out here cause I couldn't find you guys. I'll go back inside." Despite her anger at what she overheard, she makes sure to look at both of them when she says, "I'm sorry."

She's already on her feet and facing the front door, abandoned by the guy who tried to walk out only to be greeted with this shit-show, when Jeremiah says, his tone harsh, "Don't. I was already leaving."

This makes her stop in her tracks, her hand frozen in place where it grabs the door handle, and, after she listens to Jere's footsteps gradually disappear, she turns back around.

Conrad is closer now than he was a second ago. Rather than remain in the driveway where he and his brother argued, he stands on the porch with his hands in his pockets. The look on his face...it's heartbreaking. His eyes are glassy, his lips downturned into a slight frown he tries to keep at bay, and knows based on the look he gives her alone that he will never forget what Jere said to him tonight.

She says softly, "Connie," unsure of what else to say to him, but that's all it takes to open the floodgates.

Silent tears start to fall down his cheeks as she closes the distance between them to take him into her arms in a comforting embrace. He bends down a little to allow his head to rest on her shoulder. Her hand cups the back of it to cradle his face into the soft crook of her neck, giving him the shelter he needs from the rest of the party to cry it out. The arms wrapped around her waist squeeze tightly enough to push the air from her lungs, but she never complains. To be in his arms is a blessing regardless of the reason and circumstances behind it.

They remain this way for the better half of a minute before he has the courage to break the silence. The hand on the back of his head brushes through his hair in a repetitive motion in hopes that it will soothe him.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" he asks. "I just"—he shakes his head—"I can't think straight right now..."

She nods.

"We can go to my house."

The Fishers and Conklins aren't nearly as familiar with her family's summer house as she is with theirs, but they have been inside a few times. On days when he didn't feel like being around everyone last summer, Conrad would come over and sit in the chair in the corner of her room, blowing the smoke from his joint out of the window while she cleaned, folded laundry, or read whatever book Laurel had recommended to her at the time. It was domestic in a way that made her heart skip a beat. It made her imagine how it would be in the future if they were together. If they truly ended up getting married as they pretended to when they were children while playing as Anakin and Padme.

She reaches down and entwines their fingers in order to lead him away in the direction of the house next door. It's a short walk over the fence gate that connects their yards. That was Susannah's doing. Five years into her friendship with the kids in her house, she and Y/N's parents agreed to install a new fence with a gate between their two properties to allow their children to play without having to leave the yard.

With everyone busy partying, no one should come back to sleep until way later. It wasn't until after they arrived back from their night at the country club that she remembered where her mom kept the spare key, so the others may forget their plans to sleep there. If they do, she'll shoot them a text in the group chat to remind them rather than allow them to sleep on the floor.

The door is already unlocked from when she went inside to shower and get ready with Taylor and Belly before the party, so all it takes is her turning the handle to allow them access.

She drops his hand once the door is kicked shut behind them and looks over her shoulder to say, "I think there's frozen food in the garage freezer if you're hungry," as she walks toward the kitchen. "And there's still my mom's Diet Coke in the fridge. We could always mix it with my dad's whiskey if you wanna keep drinking."

From behind, she can hear his footsteps on the freaking hardwood floor, getting closer and closer until his hand wraps around her arm to spin her around to face him.

"What—"

The question is cut short by his lips crashing against hers.

Kissing Conrad is something she doesn't think she will ever get used to or grow tired of. No matter how many times it happens, which, so far, has been at least three times since the night they spent at the country club, it takes her breath away the same as it had the first time when they were just children playing pretend.

Her arms are thrown around his neck in less than a second to pull him closer, and she doesn't hesitate to kiss him back. Not even for a second. At first, she is too intoxicated with the thrill of having him touching her to remember why they came here in the first place. Every thought revolves around him—the taste of the alcohol on his tongue, the feeling of his chest pressing against hers, and how confidently his hands find their place on her waist.

A second later, the memory of the fight he and Jere had comes back to her, and she forces herself to push him away.

"Wait," she says with her hands flattened against his chest to create some distance between them. "Wait, Connie."

When he opens his eyes, they're overflowing with concern for her. She already knows that he is assuming he made a mistake or that she doesn't truly want to do this with him, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. In fact, she is the one who is concerned for him.

"Are you okay? You and Jere just..." Her expression softens a little. "I don't wanna do this unless I know you're sure you're alright."

The confusion evident on his face disappears by the time she's finished speaking. In his mind, he anticipated something much worse than her wanting to check in on him to make sure he was okay. As the seconds passed between her telling him to wait and him looking at her, he feared she'd take back everything they shared in the past few days. All the secret kisses, gentle touches, and giggles. He wasn't sure he could take losing another one of the girls he grew up with in that way.

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and stares at her without saying a word. If it were anyone else, it would be uncomfortable, but it never is with them. That's part of what keeps bringing him back to her. Of course, it can't end well seeing that he dated Belly, she's friends with her, and they had such a messy break-up, but what is he supposed to do? Ignore his feelings? Pretend not to want her when he clearly does? He can't do it. He won't. Now that he's already had a taste of her, he can't resist any it longer.

His chest rises with a deep inhale, then—

"I fucked everything up, and I knew Jere must have resented me for it, but I didn't think it was that bad," Conrad says. "I'm sad and angry, of course, but that doesn't mean you'd be taking advantage." He lets the tip of his nose brush hers with how close he comes. His voice is hardly a push of air when he speaks again. "You make everything feel better. You always have."

She doesn't allow him to kiss her again. Instead, she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck and keeps her eyes on his, not giving in even when their noses bump together and the heat of his exhales cloud on her skin. The kitchen table he has her pressed up against digs into her back, keeping her pinned in place exactly where he needs her.

"So, that's what you want?" she asks in a hushed tone even though they have the house to themselves. Every breath they take is pulled from the little pocket of air between their faces, and they can both smell the liquor on each other's breath every time they exhale. The hands on her waist slowly descend until they settle on her hips. "You want me to make it better?"

The moment she says the words, Conrad seems to melt into her touch. That is all it takes to turn him to putty in her hands, and he nods in response with his face pressed against hers.

"Is that okay?"

In other words, is that what you want? Have you been dying to get your hands on me the way I have been dying to get mine on you? It feels like a lifetime since they first hooked up in a secluded room at the country club, but it hasn't been more than a day.

In lieu of a verbal answer, she closes the inch of distance between them and connects their lips in a tender kiss.

He reciprocates with a passion that ramps up the intensity in a matter of seconds, quickly turning it from its initially timid and gentle nature into something more desperate and needy.  Those hands on her hips squeeze hard to keep control and steady her body as he presses her further into the table, making her back arch a little. Her hands wander to explore every part of him now that she knows he wants this again, and she slips them up underneath his shirt to feel his bare skin beneath her palms. But when her hands make contact with his nipples, he shivers.

Their lips disconnect, shining from the saliva they share, for him to murmur, "Cold hands," as explanation before reaching down for the hem of her dress. She helps him shimmy the tight material up from where it gets stuck around her breasts until it is pulled free and tossed somewhere on the kitchen floor behind her, leaving her in only her undergarments. And he is quick to dispose of those too. Nimble fingers fumble with the clasp of her bra for a few seconds, then it finally comes loose around her back.

But, that's the last thing she lets him take off of her before she puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

Without saying a word, she grasps the bottom of his shirt and starts lifting it up to reveal his bare chest to her. He takes the hint without a second of confusion, pulling it the rest of the way off. It drops from his grasp the second it's off his head and abandoned in favor of aiding her in her attempt to undo his pants with those soft, trembling hands.

In a way, it feels similar to their first time. It was against a wall at the country club the other night after they became bored looking for a place to sleep. All they knew was that they needed to make it quick, so they did. His hand disappeared down the front of her panties to help her along, the pressure of his fingertips rubbing her clit bringing a wetness that soaked the cotton fabric concealing her from view, and that was all the preparation they took before it happened. He asked, voice quiet and low, if she'd done it before when she began tugging on his shirt as they made out, so once she said she had, all bets were off.

The thought of it slows him down for a second.

That time, they had to get it over with quickly. If they hadn't, the others likely would have gone looking for them and found out what was going on in the office room they snuck into. It was rough and quick and passionate, and he liked that, he truly did, but recalling that now makes him want to do it differently this time. Especially considering what happened before they came into this house.

"Slower, slower," he murmurs into her mouth.

The adjustment is made instantly, and she allows him to take back full control of the kiss. With his hands pulling her hips flush against his, he surrenders to the urge to rut against her to relieve the aching of his hard cock through the material of his boxer briefs and unzipped pants. He invades her open mouth with his tongue and kisses her slower, deeper than he had the last time. His teeth nip playfully at her lower lip in the second he takes to pull back for air.

His hands cup her face on either side to keep her in place as he dips down to kiss the underside of her jaw. He doesn't dare to leave any marks behind where anyone could see them, but he does take his time and suck gently on the sweet spot on the gentle slope where her shoulder and neck bridge together. Faintly, they can both hear the music from his house next door over the wet sound of his lips on her neck.

The other day, they didn't have the time to do everything he wanted to with her, but tonight they do. Tonight, he has her to himself for the first time in months, and he isn't going to take that opportunity for granted. Everything with her happened too fast for him to process. Last week, he'd been caught up on Belly, and part of him still is, but, then, Y/N came into the picture in a way he never expected. Despite the fear of ruining their lifelong friendship, to be with her felt as natural a process as breathing.

The hands on her face slip down the sides of her neck and down the front of her body until they find the band of the thin little thong she chose tonight for the sake of not having panty lines through her dress. Part of it also had to do with the possibility of this happening again, but she'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

It appears, however, that he already knows when she finds the end of his mouth tipping upwards in a slight smirk as his fingers hook around the fabric. Seeing that they just hooked up yesterday and that these are a decent step up from the boy-short panties patterned with flowers he saw her in before, it isn't too difficult to put together.

Conrad sinks down onto his knees to tug it down her legs, and before her cheeks can begin to burn with embarrassment, she warns him, "Don't even."

This draws a giggle from him, his head tilting back to let him look up at her. Even in the midst of their playfulness and laughter, the sight of him kneeling before her makes her go weak in the knees. The strands of hair hanging in his eyes frame his face with an effortlessness she has envied him for her whole life. His beauty is classic, statuesque, even. He is the specific type of attractive that never falls out of trend or becomes less shocking over time. At least, not for her.

"I didn't say anything."

She counters, still laughing, "You didn't have to!"

At this point, she is grinning from ear to ear, and it's difficult to be self-conscious about being laid bare in his presence when he's looking at her like that. Her left leg is lifted off of the ground for her underwear to slide off of her ankle, but he doesn't put it back down. Instead, he turns his head to kiss her sensitive inner thigh, leaving her with nothing to do except watch while the anticipation of what he plans on doing eats her alive.

Unlike her neck, he has no qualms about marking up her thighs. It may be mildly uncomfortable to forgo wearing shorts in the summer heat, but it's doable. She can wear some of the bottoms she has stored in the dresser upstairs to keep the others from seeing if need be. His other hand grips her right hip to keep her steady while his other has her bent leg propped over his shoulder. Soon, his kisses have made a path up the length of her thigh, and she can't help but breathe heavier when she feels the heat of his exhales at the apex of her thighs.

"Connie..." she breathes out.

This brings his attention up, eyes fluttering open from where they'd been closed as he inched closer and closer to where she wants him most. And when she finds him looking up at her, pupils dilated and lips swollen from kissing, she can hardly breathe.

He asks, "You nervous?"

Words fail her. All she can do is nod.

"Don't be," Conrad whispers, the hand on her hip reaching to take hers in it for the sake of comforting her. "It's just me."

To this, she chuckles a little and tries not to shift in place with the sheer discomfort of the need she feels for him in this moment. No one has ever done this specific sexual act with her before, so the nerves are strong, but not quite as strong as her curiosity or desire.

"That's exactly why I'm nervous."

Her free hand comes down to brush the hair out of his face, and he leans into the touch like a cat brushing up between your legs. His eyes shut again for a second to appreciate the sweet gesture before looking up at her again, a slight grin begging to come to fruition on his face.

"Let me make it better, then," he says softly, in that charming, distinctly Conrad way that could take any girl's breath away with ease.

The first flick of his tongue against her is gentle, a mere glimpse of what's to come, but it stuns her all the same. Never having experienced this before, she is extremely sensitive to anything he does to her, and she finds that she's far more sensitive when it's his mouth pleasuring her as opposed to his fingers. Every soft brush of his lips against her in teasing kisses makes her hips press forward into his face in a silent command to continue without her noticing that she's doing it. He is quick to notice it, though, and he doesn't continue to tease her any longer.

This time, when he spread her open on his tongue, he gives her what she wants.

Sparks of pleasure shoot through her the second she feels him lapping at her aching clit, soft and gentle at first until he feels her grinding herself forward against his face for more. With her soft sighs and stifled moans as encouragement, he dips his head between her legs and eats her like a man starved. The remaining leg she stands on is quickly guided over his other shoulder, and his hand slips out of hers in favor of taking hold of her hips. The supple flesh of her ass is soft where it is squeezed beneath his fingertips and used as leverage to bring her as close as possible.

"Mm," she whines, "Fuck..."

The ability to speak evades her in the heat of the moment, but they both know how much she's enjoying this without her having to come out and say it. If the sounds she's making weren't enough, the hand she has gripping the back of his head to keep his mouth on her would prove it.

She knew from conversations overheard between the boys that Conrad was no stranger to this kind of thing. It may have made her heart sink into the pit of her stomach to hear it back then, but, right now, she's thankful for his experience. Every lick, kiss, and caress is placed exactly where she needs it as though he's able to read her body without having to open his eyes. The pleasure he's giving her far outweighs the jealousy she feels when she remembers that he's done this with other girls, one of them possibly being Belly.

The taste of her arousal, slick on his lips and tongue, has him humming in contentment into her as though he is the one being pleasured by this. In a way, he is. There's something intoxicating about being surrounded by her in every sense like this—her weight on his shoulders, her hands in his hair, and her thighs clamped shut on either side of his face. His dick strains against the fabric of his underwear as well as his unzipped pants, pulsing with the desire to sink into her and find his release.

She cants her hips to grind down on his face in pursuit of something closer, something deeper that they can't manage like this. And it isn't long before she starts to pull gently at his hair, reaching down and trying to pull on his arm to get the message across.

Conrad's lips part from her soaked pussy with a wet sound. When he looks up at her from between her thighs, she can see how his lips and chin are smeared with her arousal. It glistens under the moonlight coming in through the kitchen window. In seconds, the moment is already gone. The hands gripping her hips slide down to take hold of her thighs in order to guide them off of his shoulders, and when he sets her back down onto the ground, her muscles are trembling.

He's standing back up at his full height with his body slotted perfectly between her legs in the time it takes her to blink. Their next kiss is hungrier, much more aggressive in nature, than the last they shared, and she can taste herself on his lips.

In the gaps between their fervent kisses, she says, breathless, "I know you wanted to go slower this time, but I can't." His tongue invades her mouth again, pushing past her soft lips to allow the taste of her lip balm to blend with the semi-sweet taste of her pussy. It's only when his tongue retreats to give him the chance to bite down on her bottom lip that she can speak again. "Please," she whines and juts her hips out until she feels him hard against her. "We can go again after, I just want you now."

This sends him into a bit of a frenzy.

He has had his fair share of hook-ups—not nearly as many as Jere but plenty—yet there's something about her that thrills him in a way few others ever could. No girl has ever said anything like that to him. With Belly, it was her first time, so everything was tender and experimental due to the nature of the situation. With Y/N, it's different in the sense that they cannot be fairly compared. How could anyone compare a gentle, sweet first time with what may end up being the best fuck of his life, surpassing the quickie at the country club that left them both breathless and weary.

Conrad is panting for air when their lips part, their mouths hanging open and brushing as he hefts her up onto the table with little effort. Beneath her hands, she can feel his biceps flex with the quick lift. Taut muscle contracts and pushes back against her fingers before relaxing again once her ass is planted on the tabletop, but if it weren't for her hands gripping his arms for support, she wouldn't have noticed it had any effect on him. It's strangely arousing. She never gave his casual strength much thought until he utilized it in this context for the first time. A thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead when he had to keep her lifted against the wall at the country club as he thrust into her, but he didn't struggle.

Please. He hears her whining the word on a loop in his mind as he aids her in shoving his pants and underwear down his lean thighs. We can go again after. She wraps her hand around his length and pumps a few times despite the fact that he's already hard enough for it to ache. All the while, he's still stuck on the things she said. We can go again after. Not only does she want him now, she already knows she'll want him again. I just want you now. That crucial part gave him the answers he'd been seeking for the past twenty-four hours since he pinned her to the wall at the country club and fucked her hard enough to make the framed paintings shake on their hooks. I just want you now. It was life-altering for her too.

As he angles his hips just right to guide the broad tip of his cock into her, his fingers dig into her hips so hard, she'll be shocked if it doesn't bruise by tomorrow.

She uses the legs wrapped around his hips to push him further into her, and they both gasp at the sensation it brings them. Her heels press into the backs of his thighs, urging him to take whatever he wants from her whenever he wants it. It doesn't matter that the stretch she feels the further she urges him inside of her almost makes her have to bite down on her lip to contain a wince. Nothing matters to her except for getting as close to him as physically possible.

He lets out a low, drawn-out, "Oh fuckkk," under his breath as he sinks the rest of the way into her.

Their noses bump with every slight movement made or breath taken in, and she refuses to look away from his eyes. There's something inherently vulnerable about holding unwavering eye contact with him while he is buried in her to the hilt. The hands on his biceps slide up slowly until both of her arms are wrapped behind his neck to keep him from shying away from her at any point. This is the closeness she craved more than anything. Nothing else would do, not even having him on his knees for her.

It's a wonder that he doesn't come right away with how tightly the soft, warm walls of her pussy are squeezing around him. And when she bucks her hips up in a wordless request for him to move, he shakes his head.

Eyes clenched shut, Conrad murmurs, "I just need a second."

He feels her nod against his face, her nose nudging his cheek. For the next thirty or so seconds, he remains as still as possible. It's torture for him to stay this way and resist doing what comes naturally. Although it's for his sake, not hers, he struggles to keep a firm enough hold on his self-control. He keeps his eyes shut because he knows that if he looks at her, he won't stand a chance.

It isn't until the fire that blazed in the pit of his abdomen has calmed that he allows himself to look at her again. When he opens his eyes, she's already watching him. Her fingers twirl strands of his hair absentmindedly, and when she sees him open his eyes again, she closes the gap between their lips again.

This time, as his lips slot against hers, he draws away from her, pulling out until it's only his tip inside of her.

"You don't have to be gentle," she murmurs. "I can take it. I won't break."

His response comes in the form of him snapping his hips into her until he's gone as deep as she can take him. Despite her urging him to get rougher with her, she still gasps at the sudden intrusion and looks up at him with a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. Her past hook-ups were meaningless and unfulfilling. It happened during her freshman year at Trinity College while Conrad and Belly were dating. Considering what was going on at the time, she didn't plan to talk to either of them about it afterward, and, once it was as over, she didn't want to.

It was horrible.

It was the polar opposite of her first time with Conrad. Not only was it with an uncaring frat boy she met at a party her roommate dragged her to, it was uncomfortable. He didn't do anything other than get himself hard and stick it in, and with her nerves being so bad, it was already hard for her to get aroused. But it couldn't be any more different now. It couldn't be any more different with him.

It's rougher than it was initially, yet still slow and sensual. The hands on her hips guide her into a cadence to match his movements each time he thrusts into her, stifling the sound of his own low moans by smearing his mouth against hers. It's a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues brush, saliva coating their lips, and he makes sure there isn't a single part of her left un-worshiped tonight. Whether it be her neck, her collarbone, or her jaw, he pays every part of her the attention it deserves, partly for her sake and partly because he cannot help himself.

Their lips pull apart with a loud smacking sound, and he keeps his forehead pressed to hers as he looks into her eyes, head tilting just slightly to the side. One of his hands abandons its place at her hip to slide up the length of her torso. Her stomach flinches inward at the contact of his knuckles brushing her skin on the way past, but it's when he lets his hand flatten over her breast that she lets out a shaky exhale, He doesn't spend too much time there, though. After teasing her with a gentle squeeze, his hand wraps around the back of her neck for the sake of having control of where she looks, and, right now, he wants her to look at him as he admits something to her.

"I've dreamt about this," Conrad whispers.

He delights in her slack-mouthed expression when he ruts into her a touch faster and harder for the sake of seeing the expression on her face shift.

Somehow, she finds her voice and manages to stammer out, "I"—she is interrupted by the need to take in a sharp breath of air—"I thought..."

The hand on the back of her neck squeezes harder at the implication of her unfinished statement. It isn't necessary for her to continue the thought, he already knows what it means. I thought you dreamt about Belly. He did. He dreamt of Belly every night last summer, but it was Y/N who he dreamt of first.

She was the one who awakened these feelings within him for the first time. Being the oldest alongside him, she was the first to develop, and he didn't know what to do with the feelings that surfaced the summer she came back looking less like a girl and more like a woman. She was the first person he kissed, albeit for a game they played together, not Belly. Surely, he thought she had to know that it meant something to him too, but when he looks at her now, it's clear that he thought wrong.

His brows pinch together at the sensation of her tightening up around him, but his eyes are soft. Tender. Honest. He shakes his head. Just once.

"You were first," he says it so quickly, she almost misses it. "It was you."

That doesn't mean what he had with Belly meant nothing. In fact, it means the opposite. What he had with Belly was unlike anything he experienced before, but so is this. There is no way for Conrad to compare the two because what he feels for them is so solid yet different.

With Belly, he knew what he meant to her. He knew she put him on a pedestal her whole life and believed every word he said, so it was difficult not to feel an added pressure to live up to that standard. His heart broke when he ruined prom for her, but he did it because he thought he didn't deserve her.

With Y/N, they've always mirrored one another. Both the eldest in their respective families, gifted children, and sensitive in a way that troubled them more than most of their siblings and friends. Where everyone else misunderstood Conrad, she understood him. And it was never something that had to be acknowledged out loud or spoken of. It was a law of existence.

The summer before last, when Conrad got into reading as a result of Laurel gifting him a few of her favorite classics, he ended up insisting that Y/N read Wuthering Heights shortly after he finished it. Never having read for pleasure before, she thought she'd find it difficult to devote herself to it, but she should have known. She should have known that if he wanted her to read it, there were good reasons for it. Belly and the boys were having dinner with their moms when she finally got to his favorite line.

It was underlined in red ink, she noted, not pencil. Never to be erased or undone in any way. When she read it, she knew immediately that he'd done it for her. On the page, it read, "He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same," and that was the moment she knew she loved him.

Right now, as he kisses her and reaches down with the same hand that held her neck to rub her clit, it's all she can think of. So, she says it. She takes the vulnerable confession and offers one of her own in return.

"You were first for me too," she says breathlessly.

The contact of his fingertips brushing her most sensitive spot has her jolting against him in equal parts shock and pleasure. It instantly makes the feeling of him rocking into her at a steady pace all the more gratifying. What she said is fuel to the fire for him. It urges him on, chasing the weightless, stirring feeling inside of him with reckless abandon. He decides to trust what she said about being able to handle him not being gentle, because, truth be told, he can't control himself.

Conrad, lost in the haze, starts sucking at her neck after he leans down to kiss it. Everything outside of this house no longer exists to either of them, so it doesn't occur to them that they'll have to answer for the marks left behind on her come morning. No, all he can think of is what he feels for her and how he can possibly show her the full extent of it without telling her. This is the only way, he thinks. When he talks, he fucks everything up, but she has to know how he feels through this. After all, she's always had a sixth sense when it comes to him. Why should it be any different now?

Her fingers card through his hair and tug gently on the soft strands as she tips back her head and arches her body into him, gasping into the dark, empty kitchen. Even when he kisses his way back up to her lips, he remains trapped in the trance she put him under, taking every part of her for himself. It takes her crying out in bliss at the combined sensations of his fingers on her clit and the smooth, wet drag of his cock inside of her for him to meet her gaze again. This time, he doesn't dare look away. Neither does she.

Their eye contact never wavers as she murmurs, face twisted in pleasure, "Fuck, I think—"

Her sentence can't even be finished before she's coming undone from the next caress of his fingers against her.

The arms wrapped around the back of his neck pull him in as her body tenses up with the onset of her climax. Not only does he watch and listen as the euphoria washes over her, he feels it. He can feel her spasming around him, clenching and unclenching, through every powerful wave.

Her jaw has fallen open in a gape that allows every beautiful moan, gasp, and whine to escape into the space between their lips. And it's the sensation of her coming around him that threatens to send him over the edge, but he holds out for as long as he can. Both for the sake of helping her ride it out and prolonging his own orgasm.

He pulls out quickly out of fear of finishing inside and withdraws the fingers that were rubbing her clit to wrap them around his cock, stroking himself once, twice, three times until he comes with a breathy moan. Watching it drip down her trembling stomach heightens the swift pulses of pleasure, and when his body jerks involuntarily from how good it feels, the next rope of cum lands across the hickeys on her inner thighs. It's downright filthy, but he'll be damned if it isn't the most erotic thing he's ever seen in real life.

For a second, time is suspended to allow them both the chance to catch their breath and enjoy the comfort of each other's embrace. Her arms are still linked around him, trapping him in, and he lets his face fall forward onto her shoulder with a tired sigh. It's impossible for either of them to find words in the midst of their post-orgasmic bliss, so they don't bother trying. Much like how it has been for their lives preceding this moment, the silence is comfortable. There is no misunderstanding, awkwardness, or trying to fill the space with meaningless small talk.

Once the rapid rise and fall of their chests have evened out, Conrad pulls away from his cherished spot in the crook of her neck and kisses her one last time before coming back down to earth.

He's already pulling his pants back up before moving to get a few paper towels from the kitchen counter, telling her, "Stay there, I got it."

The sound of the tap turning on reaches her ears, then vanishes as quickly as it appeared, and it isn't long before Conrad is back in front of her. Every swipe of the damp wad of paper towel is gentle on his skin, carefully minding where she's particularly sensitive in the aftermath of what they did. As he wipes his release up from her stomach and thighs, he folds the towel in half to clean her again, then, once he's finished, he leans down with one hand cupped underneath her thigh and presses a kiss to one of the marks he left behind.

Her face burns hot at this, but she tries not to let it rattle her brave face.

"You're lucky I like you so much," she says, tilting her head to show him her neck, "cause this is gonna be impossible to hide."

He can't even stop the smirk from crossing his face at the sight of her freshly bruised skin. Yet, he doesn't answer right away. He simply continues to smile to himself and walks around the island she's perched on, digging in the freezer for something for the next moment or so. When he returns, he's holding up a bag of frozen peas as though it is a coveted trophy.

"This will help," he says and gently presses the cold bag over the spot on her neck. "Thank you, by the way."

She blinks at him.

"For what?"

His shoulders pull up in a shrug as he tries to find the right way to word it without it sounding like he's only talking about the sex.

"For everything." He says softly, rubbing the edge of her jaw with his thumb. "Sometimes, I feel like you don't know what you mean to me."

The room has been plunged into silence since they stopped moaning, panting, and joining their bodies together. All that can be heard over their voices is the music next door, as well as loud voices speaking in the back and front yard. In here, though, it's just them, and he can hear how her breath hitches in her throat at what he said.

"It was confusing last summer, but ever since you underlined that part in the book you gave me, I've known. At least to some extent," she admits. "I knew you did that for me."

He nods.

"I did."

There's a long pause, then—

She breaks her gaze with him and looks down at the floor, smiling like an idiot at the thought of what has transpired in the last forty-eight hours. Seeing her clothes in a pile on the floor prompts her to take the frozen peas from him and jump down from her seat on the counter.

As explanation, she says, holding the bag to her neck, "We should probably get back to the party before anyone notices we're gone."

He casts a quick glance to the counter where they fucked for a second before looking at her again.

"And probably clean that."

A giggle escapes her when he says this.

"Yeah, we definitely should."

-

Hello! Finally wrote a Conrad fic! If you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. If you want to be added to a tag list for future Conrad fics, let me know as well. Thank you.

[azrielbrainrot]

Such a Perfect Place To Start

Pairing: Azriel x Healer!Reader

Description: Something happens that has you questioning the nature of your relationship with the shadowsinger.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3911

Notes: When I started writing this I didn't think it was going to lead to that. Hope you like it!

Healer!Reader Masterlist

When you were called to the House of Wind so urgently by the High Lady herself you were expecting a more pressing matter, a life or death situation like you're used to, not exactly a library full of books. You don't know how long you've been sitting in this chair but you couldn't feel your butt anymore, no matter how many different positions you tried to sit in. You were used to doing some research while studying new healing techniques or herbs but these millenia old books on magical symbols were a little different.

There had been some attacks across the Night Court, including in the mountains surrounding Velaris, with some pretty disturbing details. After being killed, the victims' eyes had been removed and a symbol had been carved into their chests. All the symbols were different and, at this time, their meaning was still unknown. Unfortunately, none of the victims had survived either so there weren't any witnesses and, even after Azriel's thorough investigations, there was no evidence left behind by the culprits. It was as if no one had even been there.

You had heard some rumors about this before getting called in. Gossip spread around fast in Velaris and, even with the Inner Circle's efforts to keep panic to a minimum, people had found out about some of the details. The area around Velaris is relatively safe so to have multiple killings in a short time and in such gruesome ways was causing a bit of a fearful atmosphere to fall upon the city of dreamers. The increase in security wasn't easily missed either.

After being summoned to the River House, Feyre and Rhysand had briefed you on everything they knew and asked you for your help, seeing as they could only trust a few select people. Since there were no other clues left behind besides the symbols, the High Lord decided that, for now, everyone should focus on finding their meaning, so he sent his most trusted people to his private library to look through every book that might help.

You had obviously felt incredibly honored and happy that they trusted you this much. You've been getting closer to the inner circle after your talk with Azriel a few months ago, and sometimes still feared your friendships were a bit one sided.

As honored as you felt that they trusted you, though, you had spent days searching through old books just to come up empty. It was more tiring than a week at a war healing tent. Not to mention having to do so by Amren's side. You had no personal problems with the newly turned high fae but she still scared you profusely. Your power gave you a sense of people's aura and hers had always felt unsettling at best, even after getting turned.

At least, you weren't alone with her, everyone in the Inner Circle and some of the Valkyries had shown up at the library to help at some point. There was no way of knowing who could be behind these attacks and, from what you gathered, these fae had been moving across the court too easily, meaning they could be from the night court or even Velaris, so you couldn't involve the priestesses in the library.

The sky was already completely dark outside, making way for the millions of stars to shine in the sky. The atmosphere was a little too quiet for this time of night, usually there would still be fae walking around the city, in and out of bars and theaters. Amren had already left. The ancient one had tucked a book under her arm and walked out without much of a goodbye, leaving you with Feyre and Azriel in the library.

“I think it's time to stop for the day,” your High Lady's voice cut through the silence suddenly, “Rhys just finished at the office too.” Sometimes you envied how convenient the daematis abilities were. As her eyes glaze over and a smirk threatens to play at her lips, you know her mate is giving her a good reason to go home.

“I'll stay a bit longer,” you hold your finger over the passage you were reading, these old books had tiny fonts and you'd already lost yourself in enough of them to know better now, “I have to go to the clinic tomorrow so I wanted to at least finish this book.” There were only about half a dozen pages left of it so, even if your body was screaming at you to go to bed, you wanted to get this done first.

“Alright,” the High Lady adds her last book to the pile and looks at you one more time, “Don't stay too long. We need you to be focused at the clinic.” Her eyes shift to the shadowsinger and narrow slightly, her tone a little sterner, “You too, Az. Get some sleep.”

The spymaster nods dutifully at his friend's warning and she seems content enough with the response or in enough hurry to meet her mate, as she gives you both one last smile and turns to the door, saying one last goodbye over her shoulder.

Azriel stayed with you, even though his book had just started and there was no way he would finish it tonight. You were torn between thinking it was because he didn't trust you in the House by yourself, as the ever protective spymaster, and just writing it off as his willingness to help his court even at the risk of his own health and comfort, you don't even wanna think how many sleepless nights the spymaster has spent working lately.

You shake off your thoughts and keep reading the boring book. The sooner you finish the sooner you can go to sleep. Even your healing abilities can't do much to fight the headache you were feeling after spending the whole day reading symbols and their uses in dark magic, some of the rituals described were also making your stomach queasy.

Just as you're about to finish the last page, you hear a soft groan coming from Azriel and can't help but look up at him. His head was thrown back, showing off the column of his neck. His eyes were closed tight like he was fighting the same headache as you. With his wings stretched as far as they could go, it looked like they were taking up most of the private library, not that it was a small room by any means.

The spymaster looked exhausted. He's been spending his days meeting up with his spies and informants all around Prythian, trying to find any information on the attackers and investigating any strange movement in the court. At night, he comes home and joins you in the library to help with research, sometimes even staying up later than everyone else. You know he will do the same thing tomorrow and the day after, until you find any relevant clues and catch the killers.

Azriel takes these things more personally than maybe even the High Lord and Lady. His job as spymaster is finding any threats to the court after all, preferably before they happen. You know he must feel like he's failing his court and you wish you could show him that he's doing more than enough, that it's not his fault. Under the tough exterior and immense power, Azriel has an extremely kind soul, you've felt it. He'd make the impossible happen if it meant he could protect his court, his family, even if it cost him his own life.

“You should go to sleep,” you can't help but worry for him, “You were out all day before you came here. You must be really tired.”

You wonder how long it's been since he's had a good night of sleep. Even before this situation, it was no secret that the shadowsinger was a bit of an insomniac. You had given him a few sleeping tonics before in hopes of helping him have at least a few moments of peace.

“I'll wait for you,” he tells you, meeting your eyes. You can see the fatigue swirling around in his unguarded gaze, it seems you had been right to assume he hasn't been sleeping. “You're almost done.”

You look back down at your book and wonder how he's been keeping track of what you've been doing while reading his own book. Still, if finishing this means Azriel can go to sleep, you'll do it as fast as you can. Reading through the last page intently to make sure nothing escapes you.

Just as you're about to finish you make a silent request to the House, and two steaming cups of tea appear in front of each of you. Passionflower tea to lessen his stress and help with sleep, you've given it to him before and he told you it helped so you hope it does the trick once again.

Since you're focused on the book, you miss the way his eyes finally stray from your form to look down at the tea now sitting in front of him. You also miss the smile on his face when he reaches for it and the way his shadows let him know you were the one who asked for it, gushing about how you took care of their master.

“Do you still not trust me, Spymaster?” You close the book and put it into the ever growing pile. Stretching a bit before taking your tea into your hands and blowing on it gently.

“I trust you with my life, sweetheart.” The seriousness in his statement makes you pause with the cup halfway to your lips for a moment. You didn't need the Morrigan's gift to know he was telling the truth. The nickname takes a little longer to register but as soon as it does color rushes to your cheeks.

“Then why wait for me?” You hadn't actually thought he didn't trust you in the library but you still weren't sure why he had stayed behind after Feyre left.

“Wanted to keep you company until you finished,” he shrugged. His voice is a little gravely with sleep which is a big problem for the butterflies already fluttering in your stomach. “We've been spending a lot of time together but we've barely talked.”

He wants to talk to you. You can't help the smile or the giddy feeling washing over you. He's tired but he chose to stay up a little longer to do something as trivial as talking to you.

“What did you want to talk about then?” The way he's picking at the painted decorations in his teacup makes you think he might be feeling a little nervous but you're not sure why.

“Anything you want,” he answered a little too fast. Maybe it's the low lights in the room but you swear there's some color dusting his cheeks.

“It's hard to pick a topic like that,” you say before biting your lip slightly. For some reason you suddenly feel a little pressure to come up with a good topic, not wanting to disappoint or bore him. “Lately, all I can think about is this,” you run your finger over one of the books' spines, “It's hard to focus on anything else after spending hours in here.”

“If you feel like this is too much you can tell me. I'll talk to Rhys and he'll send you back to the clinic,” he frowns. His shadows reach a little towards you, as if wanting to comfort you. You didn't mean to worry him.

“That's not what I meant,” you start, “I want to help. I've just never dealt with anything like this. I've been to war but this… killing innocent fae in such a disturbing way is different.”

“I understand,” he nods, “If you need anything you can tell me. Even if you just want to talk.”

“Alright.” Azriel has a way of talking that leaves you not knowing how to respond sometimes. He's so sincere in what he says that you almost feel like any response would fall short. “You too. If you need help with anything I'm always here for you.”

He gives you a single nod before hiding what looked like a bashful smile behind his tea. You finish your teas like this, enjoying each other's company in the quiet of the night.

You can't hold back a yawn when you set your teacup down. As much as you'd love to stay up talking to Azriel all night, your body is about ready to crash on you.

“We should go to sleep,” he says as he stands up, making the teacups disappear. “You have to be at the clinic early.”

“You're right,” you agree with a sigh, standing up to follow him to the door. You've only been going to the clinic twice a week ever since Feyre asked for your help with this case so you know you'll have a long day ahead of you. “Will you fly me down tomorrow?”

“Of course,” he tells you as he opens the door for you, “What kind of male would I be if I let our favorite healer walk down the thousands of steps by herself?”

“Favorite? I'll tell Madja you said that,” you point your finger at him playfully.

“Second favorite then,” he takes it back with a wink, making you laugh. The smile lingers on your face all the way to the guest room you're staying in and it only deepens when you realize he walked you all the way to your door.

You turn and look up at him expectantly. It looks like he wants to tell you something with the way he's searching your face and his shadows pool at both of your feet. If you didn't know any better you'd think they wanted to crawl up your legs. You've found that they can give some of Azriel's emotions away sometimes, when he doesn't have a grip on them at least.

Your body doesn't react when he bends down slowly, pausing for a brief moment before kissing your cheek softly, murmuring a good night against your skin. It doesn't react after either, when he pulls back to watch your reaction. In fact, it's not until he walks over to his door and lets out a small chuckle, that you finally move and almost crash into the room, fumbling with the doorknob and slamming the door behind you.

As you lean your back against the door, you put your hand over your chest and stare wide eyed at the window across the room. You almost thought you were imagining things. He can probably hear your heart beating all the way in his room across the hall, you wouldn't be surprised if everyone in Velaris could hear with how loud it's beating. You let yourself slide against the door until you're crouching.

You hadn't expected him to kiss you. You know Azriel isn't one for a lot of physical touch. You've only gotten a hug out of him once, during the war after an attack on the healer's tent. He had thought you were dead then, after watching so many die he'd just been glad to see someone he knows still breathing. Actually, you might have been the one to hug him first. You had never been so close to death and were scared out of your mind. It was your first war after all.

You and Azriel had been getting closer over the months, closer than you were with the rest of Inner Circle. Even before your talk that night, he's always been friendly to you, but the shadowsinger was kind to all the healers - to everyone that wasn't his enemy really - so you never thought much of it. But this felt different. Tonight felt different.

You hadn't fully admitted it to yourself yet but the more time you spent with the shadowsinger the more your crush evolved. What had once been a silly crush based on appearance and his kind nature had quickly turned into palpable feelings. You liked him. A lot.

However, acknowledging this could destroy the friendship you had built with him for the past few months, maybe with the rest of his family as well. That's what you thought before at least. You assumed Azriel would never have feelings for you. The idea seemed so preposterous it never even crossed your mind, but now you're not so sure.

Maybe it seemed like you were exaggerating to think this after a little kiss, on the cheek no less, but this kiss made you think back on the last months you've spent with Azriel. He's been insisting on flying you up and down the stairs every time he's around, usually this task would be left to Cassian, who loved showing off his wings to you.

He's been going to the clinic more often too, stocking up on anything he can think of when he's never done that in the century you've been working in Velaris. Azriel was always one to not think much of his own health, it bothered you to no end. He also came to you with every injury. Usually when a member of the Inner Circle was hurt, Madja was the one who was called. You'd only accompany her if she needed assistance or go in her place if she wasn't able to go herself. Of course over the years they'd come to use you more and more, which is why you didn't even think of it, but looking back now… You don't know what to think anymore.

Getting up with a sigh, you make your way to your closet to change. Your thoughts consume you while you get ready for bed but your tiring day catches up to you as soon as your head hits the pillow. However, this doesn't spare you from dreaming of a certain shadowsinger.

You take longer to wake up than usual, making you hurry through your morning routine. Your body isn't used to the schedule you've been putting it through lately, and it's starting to show. But because of this, it isn't until you go to open the door to the guest room that you remember Azriel is going to fly you down to the clinic. And the incident that had you spiraling before going to sleep.

Deciding walking down the steps by yourself isn't a viable option, you go to find him and pray to the Mother things aren't too awkward between you. It had just been a little kiss on the cheek and your lack of reaction could totally be blamed on the long day, your brain was just having trouble catching up, that's all. It had been a completely normal exchange between friends, not that you're blushing just thinking about it or anything. You could just pretend it didn't happen.

As you make your way to the front door, the shadows dancing around in the hallway catch your eye instantly. You've seen them do this before, when Azriel doesn't need them and they don't want to brave the light, they just linger around the room in curious little wisps. You can't help the smile as they gravitate slowly towards you.

Right after they notice you, their master appears through the door. One of them must have warned him of your arrival, they're so cute sometimes you forget they're spies. Of course they'd tell on you.

“Good morning,” he greets. Azriel may be a shadowsinger but he looks breathtaking in the morning light. His skin glows beautifully and his eyes look a little lighter, it makes him look younger. Gods, how can he be so beautiful?

He looks a little relieved to see you. Maybe he thought you'd escape by yourself or ask someone else to fly you to the clinic to avoid him. It makes you feel a little bad that you had him worried but it's his own fault for playing with your heart like that.

“Good morning,” you smile, walking up to him. “Are you ready?”

“I was just waiting for you,” he says as he extends a hand for you to take. This has the nerves already lingering inside your body make themselves more noticeable. You almost forgot flying you down means he'll have to carry you. It had taken a while for you to get used to not only the flying but also the way he had to hold you - funny how you never had this problem with Cassian.

You take his hand and try not to move too much or gasp as he picks you up off the floor like you weigh nothing. He immediately starts walking to the edge of the stairs, holding you close to his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he breathes into your ear, extending his wings and getting ready to take flight. You do as he says and wrap your arms tighter around his neck, praying he can't feel your heart beat inside your chest.

You'll never get over how stunning Velaris looks from above or how the wind passes around you as you soar through the clouds. It's a real shame that you weren't born with wings. You understand why Illyrians are so protective of them, after knowing what this feels like, it's hard to imagine never being able to do it again.

“You know I won't drop you.” You look away from the landscape and meet his gaze. He can probably feel how tense you are but you can't tell him it has nothing to do with the height or any fear of him letting you fall.

“I know,” you assure. “What would you do without your favorite healer?” He lets out a small laugh in response and your body finally relaxes.

The flight doesn't take long, and, before you know it, he's landing right outside your clinic. He helps you get down and even holds onto you a little longer, giving you a once over to make sure you're steady on your feet.

An idea passes through your mind and you bite your lip, wondering if you'd truly lost it. You take a quick look around before you lose your nerve. It was still early enough that the streets were almost deserted, no one should see you.

Turning back to the shadowsinger, you hesitate again when you notice him watching you, probably wondering what you were up to. If you read the situation wrong this could make things very awkward for the two of you.

Deciding not to let your anxiety reign your life, you grab his shoulder gently so you can pull him a little closer to your height. Standing on your tiptoes to clear the rest of your height difference. You hold onto his cheek and place a soft kiss on the other side of his face, murmuring a “thank you”.

You step back again and look up at him, still slightly bent from where you pulled him to you and looking at your face with wide eyes. You're not sure if you've ever seen the feared spymaster so caught off guard before. There was a small smile playing at his lips though, so you assume you hadn't completely misread the situation. You can't help but form a grin of your own and turn around to go inside the clinic, leaving him behind just as he did to you last night. Your heart soaring higher than you had just been.

[kalied0skull]

in honor of 420 and 100 followers, i thought it'd be utmost appropriate to draw the curtis gang smoking straight ZAZA !

now playing: Let's Go Get Stoned – Sublime ♪

easter? whazzat. i dunno what EASTER is... i only know that it's fo' twen-tee baby!

★ ramble under the cut!

I don't condone weed usage under the age of 21, but i DO condone fictional characters gettin' a little high on the day of Mary Jane's birthday

fun fact it's actually my stoner grandmother's birthday today, so if it's your birthday on 420 today, you're cool and awesome and i wish you a happy birthday

anyways, for some background to this picture because for some reason my brain was making a fanfiction about these guys getting high while i was drawing:

two-bit brought the goods, dallas brought the bong, johnny rolled that shit.

ponyboy and soda BOTH had to beg darry to let them get high, to which darry begrudgingly obliged — so long as everyone stayed inside so they didn't get stuck in any trouble anywhere. and also he got high too. (it took a LOT of convicing though)

I've mentioned it before in my soda & steve smoking doodles, but I'm convinced they just get reaaaaaallly clingy with each other when high. and quiet. like, they're only whispering, and it's only to each other kind of quiet.

dallas is just there for the vibes, he's probably joking around with johnny because those two are the biggest stoners imaginable on the downlow, so everyone's fucked up n they're just straight chilling.

i can only imagine ponyboy as getting the WORST hypersensitivity when he gets high, feeling literally everything and hearing too much and seeing the colors and lights much too bright for his liking. it's like the whole world gets louder, and he HATES it. but thankfully for his silly friend johnny—the only guy that he can have a comfortable high around—he's doing moderately okay.

two-bit is simply a show off, no other way to put it. and he ABSOLUTELY REGRETS IT TOMORROW. getting cross-faded is always a terrible idea, and he KNOWS it. but is that stopping him? hell nah. and dallas does it too. but dallas isn't as effected because he can handle his weight n' knows his limits. TWOBIT DOESN'T 💀

in my eyes, everytime darry gets high he either ends up across town or he ends up having an existential crisis. in this scene, he's having an existential crisis. probably about paul. he's most definitely thinking about all of his deepest regrets and deepp rooted trauma in that chair. is he saying shit about it? nnnnnope.

these guys are so ridiculous — i could've done something serious for the 100 followers special, but i saw this as a PERFECT opportunity when i realized what day it was. thankyou to all the people who like the stuff i post, this one goes out to you !!! 🫵😼

genuinely could not be happier to have a little community to myself to run over to every day n just Spit Shit and everyone goes "Hell Yeah." it's so fun and so cool and awawawaaahhh I couldn't be happier to have moots and lovely oomfs :D

also, unrelated, but i actually do not associate the song with the scene happening here just because the lyrics aren't matching well BUT the title was fitting, so... (idek if people actually listen to the songs i list??? i just do it for fun anyways, it's a really nice divider imo)

ant-ee-who. i really loved this drawing, even though i major rushed it in the span of [checks timelapse] around 2 hours. :3c

[goatgoesmbe]

THANK YOU!!

Hi, it's simons petty gf anon.

Just a thought, because she's only passive aggressive with her anger but always in a kind way simon is worried that if a physical altercation would happen that she would freeze up. But in reality, she's the dirtiest fighter he's ever seen. (Both of my parents were cops, military grandfather, youngest of 3 only girl) she has no honor in her fighting style, when asked about it, she says there's no honor in a fight. Only life or death.

Alright, ive been wanting to write this properly- but its been sitting in my draft for too long i just need to get it out so- no beta, I hope u still like it tho <3 u_u

All i could think about when i read this is the meme 'call the ambulance, but not for me'

short continuation of this

tw : assault, mention of violence, mention of blood, stalking

You were Simon's sweet little bird. Known to always be kind to everyone, even to the worst assholes, even to people who didn't like you.

And while you appeared to be nice and patient, with a smile that never faltered no matter what you've gone through, he eventually learned that you were not a pushover despite what everyone thought.

You could stand your own ground, you had your own way of dealing with people who disrespected you.

However, that didn't mean Simon would be less protective of you

Because the world wasn't a safe place, there were things far worse than a little quarrel with strangers, arguments with your mother, an altercation after accidentally bumping into a stranger, or verbal harassment.

He was thinking about real danger.

You were always so soft and gentle, so naturally, it triggered his instinct to protect you from any harm.

That was why he was the way he is right now, heavy boot putting it's full weight on the gas, the sound of the engine rumbled loudly, cutting through the night. Hands gripping on the steering wheels while his eyes were sharp, focused. While his ears fell deaf to the blaring of the other cars honking as he sped past them.

"Simon. Can you send help? I think i'm being followed.. can't really talk or call 911 myself rn" Your text read.

He was lounging at the couch when his phone buzzed. Content on watching the football game that was playing on TV, only to drop everything when he saw your message.

You were having a girl's night out with your besties at this women-only club that had just opened in the city. While he was one protective bastard who always wanted to watch over you, you insisted on him staying home because you wanted to spend the night with just your friends. It was reasonable, so he agreed.

But now? he regretted agreeing to that.

Tires screeched against the asphalt, making a sharp, piercing sound that sliced through the air followed by a loud slam of the door as he stepped out of his car.

With his gaze blurry from dread, he looked at the screen of his phone. He had a tracker planted in your devices, smart watch, laptop, phone. And so he followed the red dot shown in the map, finding himself standing in front of a dark alley.

"Simon" He couldn't be more relieved when he heard your voice and immediately took a few steps into the darkness, turning on the flashlight on his phone before aiming it forward.

The air was thick with the lingering scent of sweat, iron, and damp asphalt, mingling with the distant stench of rotting garbage. A dented trash can lay on its side, its contents spilled and trampled, a mess of torn paper and shattered glass glinting under the weak light. Blood stained the ground in dark, irregular splotches, soaking into the filth of the alley floor. The brick walls bore fresh smears where hands had braced against them, the rough texture now streaked with sweat and something darker.

And at the bottom of said walls, a lone figure was sat. Beaten and stripped off his shirt which was now ripped and used to tie his arms behind his back. Said figure didn't react at his presence, but Simon could see the subtle raise and fall of the person's chest.

"Simon" You called out to him again, snapping him out of his thoughts as he shifted his gaze to you.

You stood there with a smile that he always saw on your face, which was now sported with a fresh bruise, purple blooming beneath your skin. A dark welt shadowed your cheekbone, and a small cut on your lip still glistened with fresh blood. A smear of crimson streaked your jaw—and he didn't know if it was yours or someone else’s.

Your clothes were a mess, your skin tight dress were wrinkled, clinging to your curves like they had been grabbed one too many times. The faint imprint of a handprint marred the fabric near your collar, evidence of the struggle that had just unfolded.

And knuckles were raw, the skin split in places, thin trails of blood tracing along your fingers. Which told him what he needed to know.

Because despite your battered appearance, it was nothing compared to the state of the git who was leaning against the wall.

"Called the ambulance yet?" You asked, gesturing at your victim with your chin.

He didn't know if he could fall in love with you even more, but somehow, he just did.

[paulyenvol6]

All You're Good For

Daemon Targaryen x reader (OS)

You have disobeyed and upset your husband and he intends to punish you for it in a way that brings him great pleasure....

Contains: detailed smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected anal sex, fingering, crying, angst, gagging, spanking, degrading, objectification, dirty talk, mentions of words like slut and whore, dom!Daemon, slutshaming

Wordcount: ~4.89k

Masterlist

Please send me your request, I need inspiration!!

'Fuck, fuck, fuck.', had been the only words inside your head for the past minutes.

You shouldn't have been so naiv and stupid and careless. You desperately bit your lower lip and felt tears burning in your eyes.

Restlessly you walked up and down in your chambers and anxiously awaited your husband's arrival. Your hands were entangled and you unconsciously toyed with your fingers just to do anything. You had to touch something, distract yourself but you couldn't fight the urge to replay this wicked evening over and over again.

It had started pleasantly, a feast in honor of the king's name day with music and dancing and a warm summer night. You had drunk wine and perhaps that had been the cause of this whole mess. It had been a little too much, just the amount to make you tipsy and imprudent with the words leaving your lips.

Because at the height of the night you had found yourself talking with Lord Byvrin Martell and though you hadn't intended to, your conversation could be described as playful. Of course you were convinced that your teasing behaviour was exclusively caused by the alcohol in your blood but Daemon had been furious.

Lord Byvrin had complimented your looks, your clothes, your hair and your eyes and you had thanked him for each word as if you were a young maid looking for a handsome match rather than a happily married woman, that you truthfully were. So you couldn't even act like Daemon was exaggerating because if he had acted this way with some highborn lady you would've been equally furious. The alcohol had simply made you behave in a way that didn't meet your true self and you wanted to slap yourself for it so hard.

After a few minutes of your conversation with Lord Byvrin Daemon had spotted you and only after a moment had sensed what was happening. He had walked over to you with flashing eyes and his teeth grinded and had literally dragged you away from your companion. You had looked at him and slowly started to realize what you had done and once Daemon had opened his mouth you were filled with regret and fear.

"To our chamber. Now.", your husband had hissed and you hadn't dared to disobey him.

And now there you stood, alone and scared, panicky and desperate to see Daemon and explain to him. But he made you wait 30 more minutes and then finally entered your rooms. Though you feared what he would do or say you were just happy to see him and looked at him with big eyes.

But he didn't do you the favor of meeting your gaze and instead just slowly walked to the table in the middle of the room to put the things he had carried with him on its surface. His little dagger that he always took with him and the cloak he had been wearing because of the coldness that slowly had started to creep up.

Only then did he look at you and you twitched at the coldness in his eyes. He really was angry with you.

"Daemon…", you wanted to start just to say anything but he cut you off.

"Shut up. I don't want to listen to anything coming out of your mouth tonight."

Tears welled in your eyes. "Please, let me – " With quick steps your husband approached you and took hold of your chin.

"Have I not made myself clear?", he hissed.

And so you remained quiet as Daemon examined your face. "Oh for fuck's sake… tears? Really?"

To you this seemed like a rethorical question so you didn't reply. Then he shoved you roughly away from him towards the bed and started to walk back and forth in front of you.

"I don't think I have to tell you how much like a cheap little whore you have acted tonight. You, a married woman, have thrown yourself on this cunt. You looked like a filthy slut like this, darling and truthfully I'm embarrassed for you."

You lowered your gaze feeling ashamed at his words but Daemon remained cruel and glared at you.

"None of this. Lift your chin, you will look at me. You'll be looking down to the ground long enough tonight."

You gulped loudly but forced yourself to raise your gaze.

"Good. Now get on the ground."

A second after your husband had said these words you had dropped to your knees. All you cared about now was making him forgive you and you would do anything he asked you to. Pleadingly and with big eyes you looked up to Daemon whose expression was almost disdainful. And then his hand connected with your cheek. It was a soft slap, not hard enough to leave a print but enough to make you twitch. He hummed and then took hold of your chin again.

"You will suck me off now. And you will do so without any complaints or resistance, do you understand me?"

You nodded with a trembling bottom lip because he looked so angry with you and that made you feel scared and desperate. Daemon usually wasn't mad at you. He usually praised you, told you what a perfect girl you were for him. But now he pulled down his pants and wrapped a hand around his already hardened member.

"Open.", he said while watching your face and you followed his command by parting your lips for him. He bit his lip while inserting himself in your warm and wet mouth and hissed sharply once he was fully inside. You didn't do anything and just waited for his command. Pleasing him, that was your only concern right now and you would listen to his every order.

Daemon enjoyed feeling the warmth of your mouth for a moment and then pulled at your chin so you'd open up wider for him. He grinded his teeth looking down at you and then thrusted deep inside of you. His cock met the back of your throat which made you gag and grab his thighs but he didn't care and neither did you complain. His stones were now almost pressed to your face and you felt overwhelmed with his member stuffed into your mouth. You luckily didn't have a very strong gagging reflex but right now even you were on the edge and struggled keeping in him.

Daemon usually went very careful and slow with you when he fucked your mouth but tonight he was so mad at you that he didn't blink an eye seeing you fight. He merely used your mouth as a tool to get off and put your comfort behind. And you most certainly didn't really care either. You knew you would be able to take it if it was for him.

But something did trouble you. You hated that he didn't talk to you. You probably would have preferred for him to degrade and insult you but you didn't even get that. He just had his eyes fixed on you, an angry look on his face and his hand gripped your hair tightly. Now and then he licked over his lip or threw his head back but it seemed like he entirely ignored you.

His hand held you in place while he now increased the pace with which he entered your mouth. You felt him slide past your teeth and over your tongue and tried your best to concentrate on breathing each time that his tip hit your throat. Tears had welled in your eyes again and you couldn't exactly tell whether they came from the physical or the mental pain you felt. All you knew was that you hoped that this would calm your husband.

Now Daemon threw his head back and closed his eyes because he was driven closer to the edge with every thrust. You just felt so incredibly good around his cock and the tightness made him see literal stars. It additionally brought him great pleasure to see you struggle and hear your little coughs and gags. Perhaps it was caused by his fury at you but it filled him with some sort of profane desire and satisfaction.

He wouldn't say that he was a terrible person and he truly did love you, he definitely did. But right now the blood in his veins was boiling and he couldn't get this picture out of his head. You, his wife and the most precious person to him standing so close to this weak cunt of a lord. Throwing your head back while laughing and blushing at his compliments. The way you had bit your lip and had given him this smile that Daemon found only he deserved. You weren't supposed to look at any other person like this and he wanted to make sure that you were intensely reminded of that fact.

Because that could be said about Daemon Targaryen; he was a possessive person. You were his wife, you were his'. And if he could he would let every person in the seven kingdoms know about it. If he could he would kill every person who had ever looked at you a little too long or even just had one wrong thought about you. Daemon wanted to have you and not let any other man even come near you. And now he wanted to both remind you of where you belonged to and punish you.

By now saliva and tears were running down your face and coated your chin and neck. It was messy and filthy and just what Daemon wanted to see right now. His cock relentlessy thrusted into your mouth, desire and lust befuddling his mind so much so that he didn't care about you, crouching on the stoney ground, anymore. He didn't care if you were struggling, if it was too much for you or if he made you gag. Every twitch or squirming was stopped by the hand in your hair and all he wanted was chasing his release.

And he did, his cock bruised your throat until the knot in Daemon's belly tightened and he was sent over the edge. His seed left his cock and shot deep inside of your mouth leaving you coughing and choking. He let go of you at once almost pushing you away from his now flaccid member and you sank down to the ground where you had held yourself up on your knees before. Your hands steadied yourself on the ground now and you let your hair fall in front of your face.

You sniffed a few times not being able to look at Daemon but then you felt him grab a fistful of your hair and he yanked you up to meet his gaze. Though he was still hard in his expression he looked a little calmer and you wondered if he would be easier on you now.

"Bed. Hands and knees.", was all he hissed and you were quick to obey him.

You didn't like the fact that you couldn't see what he was doing so you turned around to watch him over your shoulder. Daemon took his shirt off leaving him completely bare and then walked over to you.

Usually you could always see his eyes shifting when he looked at you and you hated the fact that it wasn't the case tonight. Why did he have to look so cold? Couldn't he allow his eyes to warm up for one second? Just so you knew that he was still your loving husband despite this big mistake of yours.

Of course you understood his anger and you wouldn't even say that he was exaggerating. You knew that Daemon was of heated and jealous nature and didn't like it when someone that wasn't him dared to compliment you or eyed you that way and yet you wished he would forgive you as quickly as possible. You would do whatever it took and really wanted to tell him that but you knew right now was not the time to open your mouth.

You felt exposed and vulnerable under his gaze with your arse up that was only covered by a bit of your gown which had moved so half of your cheeks were bare on display for him. You turned your head again too scared to upset him further and awaited his next move with your head facing the headboard of the bed. You heard him approach you and then a hand was put on your arse. He pulled the fabric up and ruffled it around your waist and then the next thing your heard was a rip which made you twitch.

It immediately earned you a slap on your right cheek which only made you squirm again and you surpressed a little cry. Daemon removed your torn dress from your body and you didn't dare voice a complaint about him destroying the expensive gown. You just stayed silent while the cold air brushed over your naked skin and sent goosebumps down your arms.

His hand landed on your arse once more which made your body jolt forwards and Daemon was quick to pull you back to him. He stroke your skin, a gesture almost too gentle given the circumstances but you allowed yourself to relax a little though all your senses were still sharpened like a blade.

And then your husband finally spoke to you and you were relieved at first but then the content of his words made you widen your eyes.

"You've been very bad. You've disappointed and upset me and I'm gonna punish you for it by fucking your arse."

"What?", you breathed and now couldn't help but turn around to look at him.

Daemon had fucked your other hole once before because the both of you had wanted to try it a few moons ago. The tightness of it had been heavenly to your husband but it had brought you great pain and discomfort and so you hadn't done it again ever since. It had been as if you were torn apart and the stretch and sting had made you tremble and so Daemon hadn't even entered you more than a few thrusts.

You had spoken about it afterwards though and you had suggested that you would want him to do it again when he would 'really want you to feel him intensely with every inch of your body'. So you had basically given him your consent to use it as a punishment when you really disbehaved.

"I will use this tight little hole to get off. You know what it does to my cock."

You glared at him with big eyes.

"Daemon…", you whispered and suddenly his face softened just a little bit.

And yet he was determined when he grabbed the back of your neck and leaned forwards.

"You know that you can get up and leave now. I'm not gonna do anything you don't want. But if you'll allow me to, I'm gonna fuck your arse as a way to remind you of your place. Because I think you forgot it.", he said with grinded teeth.

Of course you wouldn't leave now. As painful you knew this would be, you'd do it. Because yes, you hadn't loved it when he had done it the first time and yet it was you who had suggested to use it as a penalty for you disobediance after all. You would endure it. You would let him use your arse to get off and show him that he meant everything to you and that you would do anything in this world to receive his love, just the way he received yours.

You simply wanted please him and let him know how much he meant to you. So much that you would let him abuse your arse. It wasn't like it was the greatest pain in the world but the first few minutes had been very hard and even once your tight hole had gotten used to his size it was still a little uncomfortable to you and it was far away from giving you any pleasure.

"I want you to do it, Daemon.", you whispered nevertheless and intensely looked in his eyes.

"Good.", he growled and dug his fingers into the flesh of your backside.

"Because I'm merciful I'm gonna prepare you. But then I won't be anymore. I'll take your hole like a toy. Merely to get off. And I won't care how much you'll cry or whine, do you understand me?"

You nodded. "Good. I'll use you until I'm satisfied but if it's truly too much for you, you're gonna say 'red', alright? Only then will I stop."

You nodded again feeling a nervous fluttering in your stomach but you remained determined to take it. You felt Daemon run his hand over your arse again and then he wandered down and slid over your folds. There was already some wetness waiting for him but he knew it wouldn't be enough to make this as little unpleasant to you as possible so his finger traveled further down until it found your little pearl.

Daemon started by rubbing it in slow circles just the way you liked it and pressed into it more forcefully with every minute passing. His left hand was rested on your arse in the meantime, soothingly caressing you while his finger of his right hand made you soaked with arousal. Right now he wasn't even mean or hard with you; this was about making you wet and relaxed for him.

And he definitely achieved his goal as in a matter of minutes your wetness was running down your trembling legs. You let out little sighs and whimpers and clenched your hands in fists while Daemon enclosed your pearl inbetween two of his fingers and rubbed them tightly.

You had your head lowered and tried your best not to fall down on your stomach. Your knees were wombly and threatened to give in so you tightly held on to the sheets. Your husband now used his finger to collect some of your slickness and spread it all over your cunt and especially your arse hole. Now and then his finger came back to your nub in order to keep you calm and then you heard him get closer to you which made you gulp anxiously. You knew that this would hurt and yet not for one second did you doubt your choice.

"Relax.", he hissed and you exhaled deeply. It was hard sometimes to ease up when you nervously expected any kind of pain but you knew that this was the only way that this would be less uncomfortable so you closed your eyes and concentrated on your breathing.

In the meantime Daemon continued his touch on your pearl while circling your arse hole with his other hand and wettening it with your arousal. He even spitted in his own palm and used it as lubricant. Soon he inserted a finger in your hole which made you squeeze your eyes but you forced yourself to breathe and calmed down after some time. He pumped his finger a few times while circling your pearl and then added a second. This one stung a lot more and you twitched and moaned but Daemon soothingly ran his thumb over your skin.

"Shhh. Just relax." You tried to, you really did but your veins were throbbing and sweat was gathering on your forehead. And yet your breathing became more steady over time and soon Daemon sensed that you were ready for a third finger. He coated it with his spit and forced it into your tight hole which made tears well up in your eyes. You hummed quietly and dug your nails into the sheets while your teeth were buried in your buttom lip to surpress a shriek.

And then after more time passing you had adjusted to his three fingers and Daemon thought it was time to fill you with his cock. He removed his hand from your hole which made you whine and took yet another step towards the bed. He ran his tip over your clenched hole and pressed his finger into your pearl.

"Ease up. The more you relax the less it'll hurt."

He was right so you tried your best to relax your anal sphincter and then Daemon finally started to push inside.

The pain instantly brought tears to your eyes and you felt like you were torn apart. Your husband wasn't exactly small when it came to the size of his member and now you really felt every inch of him.

Slowly Daemon worked himself inside of your tight hole while you sniffed and tried to fight the tears relentlessly gathering in the corner of your eyes. It was an uncomfortable sting, an unpleasant ache that only very slowly faded away. And then he was fully inside, your walls pulsating around him and Daemon sighed deeply his cock so wonderfully surrounded by the tightness of your arse.

"Fuck.", he growled and held on to your hips. You hiccuped and whimpered and tried to further relax so you would adjust to his cock.

He actually gave you some time and soothingly caressed your hips and cheeks while letting out little moans. This was a magical experience to him because your walls stimulated him so well, it almost felt as though his cock would get torn off by your arse.

"Seven hells… Yeah that's it.", he hissed and then after yet another few minutes began fucking your hole.

At first he slowly pulled out of you only to thrust back in which made you whimper at the ache but Daemon got faster over time and started to fuck you at a steady pace.

"Oh gods be good.", he whispered. "Stupid little slut. You know that's what you deserve, don't you? Being my little fuck toy and doing nothing but having your holes spread for me and letting me take you the way I want. I hope it will teach you some lessons in how you are to behave."

You nodded quickly and hoped that he would even see the gesture because he might have his head thrown back. His hand came down to your arse and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. You cried out and instinctively jumped but Daemon pulled you back to him at once.

"You'll fucking take what I gave you. Tonight you're nothing but my plaything. You are meant to serve me for my pleasure and I'm only gonna use you to dump my seed in your filthy holes. That body is mine and no one else's. If I ever catch another man looking at you like that cunt tonight I'll have his fucking head on a spike. And you.", he snapped grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back.

"I don't have a problem reminding you of your place once more. As much as I hate to see you struggle, my sweet love, I enjoy fucking that tight arse of yours. If I ever see you acting like a cheap little whore again, I swear to you I'm gladly gonna fuck your disobediance out of you. Am I clear?"

You nodded and though his thrusts didn't bring you real sexual pleasure you felt your cunt clench around nothing at his words. After all you both knew that you loved it when he degraded you like this; you didn't know why, but he only had to call you his dumb slut and you were soaked.

"I won't do it again, Daemon, I swear it to you."

He leaned forwards so his mouth was brushing over your ear. "No you won't. Because you don't like me assaulting this cute arse, do you?"

You shook your head and whimpered. "No."

"So you're gonna behave from now on. If not I'll be happy to give you another taste of what happens when you disobey me. When you're trifling with other men while I'm in the same fucking room. Do you know how you dishonoured me tonight?"

His hand painfully dug into your hips and you knew this would leave marks.

"I'm sorry.", you cried out.

He straightened up again and watched his cock entering your arse over and over again. He parted his mouth and moaned in enjoyment. It wouldn't take him long until he reached his high for the second time tonight and he was ready to fill your little arse with his seed.

"You're a dumb whore only good for having your holes filled. That's all you're good for, little girl. I'll better keep that mouth of yours stuffed with my cock cause I can't bear the words coming out of it. You can be glad that I like your little cunt and those tits of yours so much because otherwise I would've grown tired of you."

You knew better than to truly believe his words because otherwise perhaps you would've started to cry. This was a version of Daemon that you didn't get on a daily basis but it was one that you deeply loved. When he treated you like a common whore. When he degraded you until you really felt like a cheap slut.

"You're a fucking mess, little one and lucky for you it's what I like."

He pumped himself deep inside of you and by now everything was a lot more comfortable to you and you even slightly moved your hips to meet his thrusts. It wasn't like you could ever release from it but you enjoyed it and especially liked to listen to his sounds.

And then he finally released with a deep growl. It truly was one of the most intense highs Daemon had ever experienced and he panted rapidly as he watched you with his foreahead furrowed. He was almost overwhelmed with this feeling and needed a few minutes until he sighed and softly slapped your arse.

"Fucking hells.", he moaned and then slowly pulled out of your arse.

You sobbed, by now truly feeling so messy and dizzy that you didn't have one straight thought and then fell down on your stomach.

Daemon knew that he now had to take care of you; it was inevitable because the way you couldn't even hold yourself up on your hands and knees hinted at how fucked out you were but first he had to come down from his intense high so he deeply exhaled a few more times and then took his breeches from the ground and slipped into them so he was a little more covered.

Then he approached your lying figure and carefully ran his hand over your bare back. Your arse was reddened with where his hand had come down repeatedly and he just hoped that it hadn't been too much for you.

"Turn around, love.", he spoke gently but he only received a whimper in response.

"Y/n. It's alright, let me see you."

Only very slowly did you shift your body until you were lying on your back, twitching when your sore arse met the bed. Your face was covered with traces of tears and remains of his seed and Daemon softly caressed your cheek.

"How are you feeling, sweetling?", he asked trying to sound friendly and letting you know that he wasn't angry with you anymore. But more tears spilled from your eyes.

"I'm sorry.", you cried out and your lower lip was shaking while your face was drawn with desperation. "I-I w-was so b-bad. I shouldn't have s-spoken to h-him in the first p-place. I'm sorry, D-Daemon."

He sighed and took hold of your upper arms to pull you up. He carefully rested your head against his chest and felt your tears soaking his skin.

"Shhhh, love. It's alright.", he whispered and his voice sounding so soft only contributed to your crying. "I'm not mad at you anymore. Everything is fine. You took my punishment so well, I'm proud of you."

You squinted your eyes. "But I'm sorry. I-It was so bad, I-I'm sorry."

"I know.", he purred. "And I know you won't do it again."

You nodded swiftly and looked up to him. "I won't. I s-swear it to you."

He smiled lovingly and his face softened. "You took your punishment so well, little one. And though I was angry at you in the beginning, I'm proud of you now. You did a mistake but I taught you a lesson and I know that you will keep it in mind. You can relax now, darling. I won't hurt you anymore."

You blinked a few times and pressed your face closer to his chest. "I love you, Daemon. Please…. I wanna…"

Though you didn't even know what you wanted to tell him he understood and wrapped his arms more tightly around your back.

"I love you too, sweet girl. It's alright. I'll be with you. Always. Just relax and later we'll clean you up. But right now, you can get some rest."

You closed your eyes, the warmth and softness of his body sending shivers down your spine and you felt your body easing up. It felt so good being held by him after he had been so harsh with you.

He was your Daemon again. Your husband who would never let anyone come near you and who would love and take care of you forever.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

tell me you love me

a/n: i've seen a lot of oblivious!reader x sevika but i thought it would be fun to do a oblivious!sevika x reader. someone has probably done this trope before but here's my take on it!

word count: 1.7k

warning(s): oblivious!sevika - slight angst - councilor!sevika - insecurity (on both parts) - thieram is a real one - mention of sevika being a regular at the brothel - i'm bad at dialogue my apologies everyone - not proof read - rushed - hope this doesn't suck too bad

The bar was quiet, save for a few customers sitting in the far corners, nursing their drinks at a lenient pace. After the war, Zaun didn't feel the same, there was an air of expectancy, like nothing was truly over. Though, you thought, defeating Noxus and whatever Arcane deviantcy was a win in your book. You wiped down the counter, humming a soft song as you thought about everything. You had thought that once everything was over, you could finally officially reveal your feelings for Zaun's scary lady, Silco's former right hand lady - Sevika. However, it seemed that since she had been given a seat on the council, she was never at your bar anymore. Over the years you had tried to subtly show Sevika the true extent of your feelings, inviting her over for a private drink, only for her to show up with her gaming buddies and you feeling ridiculous in the new dress you had bought.

Once, you thought she had finally realized what you were asking, her soft smile when she accepted your invitation to your apartment for dinner sending butterflies ablaze in your stomach. You remembered the hours you spent before she arrived, cooking and cleaning, fussing over your outfit and your hair, thankful you had taken enough time off to fully prepare everything. You remember setting up the table, putting the finishing touches on the centerpiece when you heard her loud knock at the door. The butterflies in your stomach got so intense that when you opened your door and saw Sevika standing there, they died just as quickly as they came.

"Hey, Y/N, thanks for inviting me over. gods know I'm starved right now."

You remember merely nodding, silent as you blinked back tears, moving to let Sevika in as she obliviously rambled on about her day. You loved how open she was with you, her carefully placed demeanor cracking to show her true personality, something you wore as an honor. Now, you thought that she saw you only as a friend, a shoulder to cry - more like complain - on. You remember vividly how her newly cut was hair mussled, her shirt and neck stained with lipstick, how her own lips seemed to be swollen. Each little detail sent a stabbing feeling into your heart, making you feel numb as Sevika took in the carefully placed dinner table.

"Damn, this is nice. Is anyone else expected to come?" She asked as she plopped down into her chair, manspreading her legs comfortably in a way that you still, in an annoyed realization, found incredibly attractive. You shook your head, the feeling of rejection and disappointment weighing on your shoulders.

"Just you." It came out as a confession but Sevika took it as an answer. You remember the rest of the night being a blur, you had come to some kind of strange acceptance.

This event was just before everything went down and now you were ready to put everything behind you. You knew Sevika still frequented the Brothel, albeit more secretively now that she sat on the Council, so you were determined to catch her whether when she was arriving or leaving one day to firmly expose yourself. You knew she had no interest in being with you, her dodging all your advances over the years had made that clear enough, but you couldn't live with the weight of your feelings bearing down on you. If you could just let her know now, you could finally move on.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sevika sat sullenly in her seat, barely registering that the meeting was over. Shoola gentley nudged her, breaking her out of whatever place her mind had taken her. The councilor smiled at Sevika, gesturing her to join her as they left the Council room. Sevika joined reluctantly, still feeling out of place within the group of people who she had previously hated so intensely.

"Any plans today? Someone to go back home to?" Shoola's question rattled Sevika, who found herself answering with a shake of her head and a kiss of her teeth.

"Nope. Guess no one's up to being with me."

Shoola would have replied with an encouragement, would it not be for the exasperated explanation that sounded from behind them.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

Both Shoola and Sevika spun around to see Thieram, one of the Last Drop's bartenders, holding a box of books from Piltover's library he borrowed from Vi. Sevika raised an eyebrow at him, a silent question.

"That's just ridiculous!" He adjusted the box to wave an incredulous hand at Sevika, almost spilling the box, "Seriously! Please don't kill me, but you seriously can't believe no one has ever showed an interest in you!"

Shoola laughed, crossing her arms.

"Are you wanting to announce something?"

Sevika had an uncomfortable expression on her face, like she would rather be anywhere than this situation. Thieram shook his head a little too hard, setting his face in a false bravado.

"N-no, but do you know how many shifts I've been through where Y/N can only talk about how nice your new haircut looks? How much she likes your piercing - a little too much if you ask me -? How many times she's asked you out only for you to make her cry in the break room before plastering on a smile to serve you and your gaming buddies a drink?" He seemed out of breath before he continued, starting to walk backwards, away from the woman who was now staring intensely at the young man, "Either you're incredibly oblivious, please stop looking at me like that, or you've been playing with my friends feelinsg for years. She's planning on telling you her feelings soon, I really should stop talking, so that she can move on."

Sevika felt time stop around her as she absorbed what Thieram was saying. For years she had harbored a crush against you, something that grew and flourished over the years as she grew closer to you, experienced more and more of your kindness and strength. She had thought you had only wanted to be friends, you had constantly invited her over to talk or have a drink but - oh. Oh.

Sevika, with this new realization, pushed past Thieram, leaving him standing there with an amused Shoola. If what he was saying was true, she couldn't handle you moving on, she had lost so many already.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had just finished your closing duties when the doors to the Last Drop burst open, revealing a frantic looking Sevika. You barely had time to open your mouth before Sevika was behind the bar, standing so close to you that your back was pressed up against the counter and Sevika's breath was warm against your cheeks. It was silent for a moment as she caught her breath, her eyes staring deeply into yours. You started to talk but Sevika beat you to it, her words coming out in a rush.

"Do you love me?"

Her blunt question made you freeze, your eyes widening and your hands starting to shake. Sevika swallowed, leaning her head forward to lightly set her forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. Her arms came to rest on either side of you, the mechanics of her left arm whirring silently. Her breath was just as shaky as her words as she continued, this time whispering.

"Tell me you love me."

For a moment, all you could do was breathe. Here was Sevika, the woman you had loved for years, the woman you had convinced yourself never saw you like that, practically begging for you to love her. With soft hands, you cradled Sevika's face, smiling at how she subconsciously nuzzled into your palm. You felt years worth of tension leave her shoulders as she further leaned into you, her arms now wrapping around your waist as a tight hug. In a moment of adrenaline, you pulled Sevika in for a kiss. It was a mere brush of your lips, a breath of waiting passed before Sevika was pulling you closer, her lips claiming yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It seemed like time had stopped around the two of you before you pulled away, Sevika chasing your lips slightly. You pressed two fingers against her lips, chuckling softly at her confused expression.

"If I tell you, what can I expect your response to be?" Your question was playful, yet you still held your breath. Sevika looked at you incredulously, scoffing before pushing your hand away from her mouth and leaning in to where when she spoke, her lips brushed against yours.

"What do you think?"

You glared playfully, leaning backwards and crossing your arms, ignoring how uncomfortable this new position was.

"I think even if I yelled it from the rooftops you would still think we were only friends."

Sevika had the decency to look sheepish, biting her lip before putting a hand on your back to pull you close once more.

"I'll listen this time, I promise." Her words were soft and warm, incredibly sincere as they comforted you like a hug. You let her brush her nose against yours as you smiled, wrapping your arms around her neck to rest on her shoulders. You pulled her close, so that now your lips brushed against her ear as you spoke.

"I love you." You whispered, slight fear tinging your words, afraid this could all be a dream, or worse, a sick joke. It was like a switch went off, Sevika's shy demeanor melting away, her eyes filled with fire as she lifted you up to sit on the counter, her lips claiming yours. This kiss was different than the first, deeper and more intense, fueled with your confession. Sevika pulled away, her forehead once again leaning against yours as she spoke.

"I've been an idiot for years," you hummed in agreement, "I hurt you with my obliviousness, I didn't think you could ever return my feelings."

Hope blossomed in your chest, understanding what she was trying to say.

"Thieram told me you were wanting to move on and I-" she paused, leaning back ever so slightly so that she could look into your eyes, "I don't want that. I want you."

You could tell she wanted to say more, confess more, but you understood why she held back, the walls she held around herself were so carefully constructed.

Smiling, you nodded, running a hand through her hair.

"You have me."

a/n: and this kinda sucked ik but i had to write something or else my mind was gonna explode. thanks for reading!

[0ceanic-cosm0s]

To the Hellfire - chapter 2

[Josh Washington x F! Reader]

6.1k words

masterlist - one - two - three

chapter wrote by @sharkology & @xghostcr0wx

⚠️chapter warnings⚠️

[mature language, mentions of self harm, mentions of mental health issues, sexual tension]

"What the hell were you doing on the trail with Em, huh?" Matt tilts his head waiting for a response from Mike. This is not what you were expecting before meeting the last friends of Josh.

"What?" Mike asks in confusion but Matt's glaring gaze doesn't go away.

"I saw you and Em. Through the telescope." Matt replied shortly with clear agitation. Now you know why Matt was in such a sour mood before you, Chris, and Sam got to the lodge. You were still sitting next to Josh by the fire watching everything unfold. You want to look over and see Josh's reaction, but before you could Mike responded to Matt.

"Before? We just ran into each other. It'd been a while so we hugged and I said hello. Is that against the law?" Mike asks in the most laid back tone, as if there wasn't much to be worried about. You honestly didn't know what to make of Mike yet. This interaction between Matt and Mike is kind of weird and you have yet to introduce yourself to the latter.

"Right.. Yeah, duh." Matt doesn't sound so convincing but he continues, "Sorry. It's been kind of a long day, I overreacted." You're glad it didn't continue and you hear a sigh of relief next to you, coming from Josh. You look at him and give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, earning a small smile from him. You feel your throat dry a bit, reminding you of how little water you drank today. You remember Sam offered to hold your water bottle in her bag on the bus for you since it didn't fit in yours.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to get my water bottle from Sam." You inform Josh and he nods.

"Don't keep me waiting too long," He jokes and you give him a lazy smile.

Once you're over to Sam, who's sitting on the stairs near Chris and Ashley, she gives you back your water bottle.

A new girl you have yet to see walks in. 'Must be Matt's girlfriend?' you think to yourself. She was a beautiful girl with short black hair, dark eye makeup, a leather fur lined jacket, and some expensive jeans. Just from her presence you can tell she means business, giving off an intimidating aura. You definitely didn't want to get on her bad side.

Before you can thank Sam, you're interrupted by a voice from across the room. You look to see the girl everyone refers to by 'Em'.

"Oh my God. That's so gross." She says while walking into the main area of the lodge, crossing her arms, a clear look of disdain on her face directed at Jessica and Mike's PDA. "Are you trying to swallow his face whole?"

All you can think about is how weird this is becoming. You're pretty sure there's much to the story you're missing, either way you can't help but think about how much Josh's friend group doesn't really seem to be on good terms with each other. Clearly something to do with messy relationships and friendships thrown in.

"No one wants in on your territory hunny." Emily continues.

"Excuse me, did you say something?" Jessica asks with sass, puts a hand to her ear, and gets up from the couch.

"Oh did you not hear me? Was your sluttiness too loud?" Emily rhetorts.

"I'm sorry, was someone bitter she didn't make the cut?" Jessica countered. This is what causes you to get the bigger picture of the situation. You start to disassociate from what's going on, mostly waiting for this to be over. You look at Sam who's on your left, sitting on the stairs next to you and she just shakes her head in disappointment at the situation. At this point you're pretty much stuck where you are, because there's no way you're going to walk back to Josh during this cat fight. You aren't trying to get caught up in it.

"Whatever, I don't give a shit what you think." You hear from Jessica after you tune back into the conversation.

"At least I can think. 4.0, bitch. Honor roll." Emily claps back with no hesitation. Matt's interjections only make things worse and before it seems like everything's about to come to a climax, you see Josh stand up to break everything up.

"Stop it!" Josh yells which is enough to catch everyone's attention. "This is not why we came up here. This is not… helping. It's not what I wanted." His tone lowered, no longer yelling.

"If we can't get along for ten minutes then maybe we need a little bit of a break, right? Mike, why don't you go check out the guest cabin. The one I told you about."

You feel bad for Josh, it seemed like everything wasn't going the way he'd planned. It's a shame that there's still some unresolved tension in the friend group that can't be put aside for one night.

"Yeah...Yeah alright. " Mike says in agreement, clearly just going along with whatever. He holds his hand out to Jess. "You want to go do that?"

She takes his hand mumbling, "Any place without that whore." Then Jess and Mike leave the lodge.

Matt does a mind exploding motion with a vocal sound effect. "Man, glad that's over." He says and Josh agrees. You overhear something about Emily losing her designer bag, so she and Matt end up leaving the lodge to go find it.

You start talking with Sam while you were waiting for Josh, presumably giving Mike the keys to the cabin. You ask her what she has planned for the night and she mainly just wants to take a bath and relax, which you find understandable. Afterwards she takes her leave to start a bath, leaving you, Chris, and Ashley.

"Alright, peanut gallery, you know what? I got an idea for you two." Josh turns to Chris and Ashley.

"What?" Ashley asks curiously and you look at Josh, interested in what's going on.

"Okay well, I am pretty sure that somewhere in this crazy place we used to have.. a spirit board." Josh claims.

"A what?" Ashley inquired in a worried tone while Chris was asking if he was serious.

"Yeah they're fun, right?" Josh replies and grins in response, but there was no way you were going to mess with a spirit board.

"Josh, you're kidding! You're not actually gonna use that thing, right?" You push him on the shoulder and he just laughs at your worried antics. "You can't mess with those." You continue to tell him.

"No, those things are a joke, man. They don't do shit." Chris brushes it off.

"No way, bro. We used to do it all the time. Me and..." Josh's voice trails off, "Well-" He's cut off by Sam returning from the bathroom upstairs, and maybe it's for the best. You could tell that the conversation was slowly leaning towards a sensitive topic; his sisters.

"Hey Josh,” she catches his attention, “No hot water's kinda major oversight dontcha think?" Sam reaches the bottom of the stairs and walks over to the rest of the group.

"Yeah yeah, just gotta fire up the boiler, it's in the basement." He responds, "You guys see if you can find the spirit board." Josh suggests, giving Chris and Ashley the task.

"Chris, let's go find it! It'll be like a scavenger hunt!" Ashley exclaims with Chris following right behind her.

"Just wait upstairs in the bathroom and I'll get the boiler working for you." Josh tells Sam and she nods, thanking him. “[Y/n], would you mind helping?" He turns to you, his eyes capturing yours and making you feel instant nervousness. It was something small, but it was Josh asking you to help him. And it made you feel useful to him.

"Of course!" You say, but you felt like you sounded a little too enthusiastic. You didn't want to seem too incredibly down bad, even though you kind of were.

“Alright, rad.” He gives you his signature lopsided grin, and to your surprise, grabs your hand in his and leads you from behind him. Your heart thumps wildly and your stomach fills with nervousness but also excitement. His larger hands were rough-in a sort of comfortable way. You didn’t mind though. He squeezes your hand gently as you both begin to walk, and it makes your body ignite with eagerness.

His actions did confuse you though, making you wonder if this was just a friendly gesture to help guide you through the dimly lit lodge or maybe something more. You wanted to say something, anything, but decided to just let it happen. You wanted to enjoy the moment.

He heads over to a desk, and pulls out a flashlight while he talks, still holding your hand firmly, “Hey, notice how I gave Chris and Ash a mission together? Yeah, I was thinking they could use some ‘alone time’~” He says the last part in a somewhat suggestive way. You roll your eyes, not too surprised Josh would do something like that

“They do seem very sweet together, they’d make the cutest couple.” You reply. Josh nods to your words. “I swear they just need, like, something to bond over, ya know? Some sort of traumatic event to send them into each other's arms. I mean at this rate they’ll be in the geriatric ward before Chris makes a move.” You softly scoff at his words, and he starts to walk with you hand in hand in the direction to the basement doors.

But before you two head in, he stops in front of you for a brief moment, a slight hint of seriousness in his tone as he talks, “Ya know [Y/n]..”

“Yes, Josh?” You say in a hushed tone, looking up at him curiously. Your mind was spinning from the eye contact, and it didn’t help that his fingers were still intertwined with yours. You mentally try to calm yourself down as he starts to walk again and continues, “I just wanted to say.. I…” He trails off, huffing out a sigh. You grow a little worried at his actions.

“What?” You inquire. He stops you and turns to face you once more. “It really means a lot to me that everyone came back this year and you know, that..You agreed to come along. Even without knowing anything about these people and seeing how they were a bit ago..” Your heart swells with warmth at his words. The way he was so sincere made a small smile appear on your lips.

“Josh, we’re here for you. Whatever you need, whenever. Just let us know. You can make it through this. All of us, together.” You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, and he nods-continuing on down the stairs to the basement as he quietly responds. “Um, I just want us to have a good time, ya know?” You hum in acknowledgement.

You guys finally arrive at the breaker, and Josh lets go of your hand. You felt a small sting of disappointment from the loss of the heat between your guy’s palms, but you quickly brushed it off, reminding yourself it was most likely a friendly gesture.

“Hey sorry to drag you down into the bowels, I know it’s kinda dark and creepy.” He says as he leans down a bit with his flashlight, looking at the switches and buttons. You shrug, looking around at the old movie props and other stuff lying around. Probably from his dad. “Nah, it’s all good. I’d rather be stuck with you anyways.” You admit. He smiles, a playful glint in his eyes as he glances over. “Oh yeah? Did you have some sort of activities planned for us?” You scoff, gently smacking his shoulder.

“In your wildest dreams.” you say and he hums, looking back at the breaker with that adorable smirk.

“I mean they can get pretty wild, if you’d be a willing participant in them, Marbles?” He says jokingly, but there was a tone behind his words that suggested otherwise-though you didn’t pick it up. “Yeah right, you just keep dreaming.” You walk behind him, patting his back as you look around some more.

You spotted a baseball bat and grew curious of it, picking it up and swaying it around slowly. You turn to Josh with it. “Be pretty rough playing baseball out in all that snow.” He stands up straight and takes the bat from your hands as you gesture it to him.

“No it wasn’t in the winter, silly. I mean we’d come up for the summer and we would have the best time-the whole family was there Mom, Dad,…” His voice grew a little sad, and his expression dropped a bit as he continued, “... my sisters– It was some serious competition out there on the big lawn…I don’t know.”

Your smile fades to a small frown at his words, feeling a little guilty for picking up the baseball bat and having him talk about his sisters.

“Can’t go back..New reality, right [Y/n]?” You nod, and you want to say something, to at least comfort him-but he continues on and switches the subject quickly, putting down the bat. “Anyway, I’m supposed to be fixing this old guy, right?” He fiddled with the switches but no luck. He hands you the flashlight and you hold it for him as he fixes the breaker.

You were hearing some strange noises though, but thought it was just the old pipes in the lodge and ignored it, for now. Afterwards, Josh heads over to another switch panel and you follow.

“Alright just turn this knob for the water pressure while I flip the switch, think you can handle that?” You roll your [e/c] colored eyes at him, which he always found so cute; your little sassy side. “Pretty sure I can, I’m not five.”

He shrugs, walking back to the breaker. “Could’ve fooled me.” You shake your head at his snarky retort and turn the knob. Loud noises come from it once you hit the turn on button, signaling the boiler was up and running.

“Alright, good job Marbles! Gimme five.” You laugh as you give him a high five, finding it adorable yet the corniest thing. He closes the doors to the breaker, but again you hear a strange noise. “What the hell was that?” You question as you look towards the sounds. “Could be a lot of things..And none of them nice..” He says the last part in a deep sultry voice as he caresses and tickles your shoulder. It sent fiery shocks through your body at his touch, but you were a little scared.

“C’mon Josh, be for real.” You say as you turn to face him, slightly serious. “I’m just.. Just ’Joshing’ ya.” He jokes. You give a sarcastic laugh at him, earning a small one from him. “You were really freaked out huh?” You thought for a moment, thinking on what you should reply with. You decided to get back at him. You look over his shoulder, putting on a serious expression of worry and concern.

“Oh my God..” You whisper quietly. “Don’t move-“

“What?” He asks, mimicking your hushed tone.

“Something’s behind you..” He smirks, raising a brow in disbelief. “Yeah right.”

“Holy shit, Josh..Seriously. There’s something back there.” He slowly turns around, and you let out an amused laugh. He turns back to you and scoffs, a sweet smile on his lips. “Alright alright I see your point.” Just after he said that, another bang came from somewhere in the basement.

“Okay, so I’m not tripping. You hear that shit too?” Josh slowly moves in front of you, looking towards the area of where the sound is coming from. “Josh..?” You ask, a little nervous. “..What?” He retorts back.

“The rhythm is weirdly regular..” You whisper.

“Not..No..Nothing regular about it.” he responds back.

You walk closer to him from behind. “Maybe we should, you know, check it out?”

“Why?” He questions as you two cautiously walk over to the sound.

“I dunno, what if it’s like, a pipe that’s about to burst or some problem with the furnace?” You say, reaching out to his arm to hold for emotional support. You were getting a little freaked out, and needed something, anything to hold onto. “Unlikely.” He replies.

Josh pretended not to notice your hands wrapped around his arm, but on the inside his heart was racing rapidly, his anxiousness from your touch ought weighing the anxiousness from the mysterious banging. You responded, “If it were me I wouldn’t want this place to burn down on my watch.”

“..Yeah, right.” He replies. You let go of his arm and walk further to the strange sounds. And just then, a figure in a dark robe popped out of the corner. “NOPE!” You turn around so fast it almost makes you dizzy and sprint away, making sure to grab Josh’s hand in the process to drag him along with you. You two bolted from the stranger as they chased you, while you knocked down objects in front of them to slow them down.

You two made it to the door leading out of the basement, but for some reason it was locked? ”Now why the FUCK is this locked?” You yelled. “T-To keep out strangers!” Josh stuttered out. He turns around and protectively sticks his arm out in front of you as the clothed figure approaches you two.

“Hey..” It mumbles.

“..What?” You breathlessly question.

“Heyyy!” It repeats, sounding like a man’s voice. It was oddly familiar.

“..WHAT THE HELL??” You shout.

“Boom!” They removed the hood of their cloak, and it was Chris. “You just got monked!” He proclaimed proudly.

”WHAT??” You exclaimed, feeling your fear and shock turning into anger and frustration. Josh only chuckles, “Nice. Nice one, that was good.”

You stutter for a second, the anxiety you were having building up. “Why w..Why would you do that?” As you start to lay into Chris, you see out of the corner of your eye Josh looking you up and down. His green eyes drinking up your frantic form, and the way you were scared to death. It was almost like he enjoyed it. He bit his lip a little as he continued to stare at you while you tore Chris up like chopping up a fruit.

You try to ignore the way Josh is basically fantasizing about you right then and there and turn to him angrily. “Was your ass in on this putz??” You shove his shoulder slightly.

“Nope. But I wish I was! That was too fuckin’ good.” Chris and Josh high five each other, while you watched in irritation.

You guys opened the door and left. Your annoyed state calmed down a bit, and you started to reflect on the events of what happened. “Alright I’m ready to admit that your dumb little prank may have had a slight whiff of humor to it.” You say to Chris. “Jokemaster!” He exclaims back. As you two bicker, Josh locks the basement door.

“Well I said nothing about jokes, I said your prank, which was dumb-“ You continue but Josh cuts you off.

“Holy shit you were scared. Admit it.” Josh says as he places the flashlight on a desk. “I was NOT.” You protest. “Oh come on, you totally pissed yourself.” Your face was starting to get red from being flustered at being the only one who was actually the most freaked out.

You hear Sam call up from the bathroom, “Hot water’s running! Thanks guys.” Finally, you hear the voice of an angel, the only person who you could tolerate at this moment.

You and Josh call out a ‘You’re welcome’ to her as Chris and Ashley were talking to each other. You stand in front of the staircase while Josh tends to the fire. Ashley asks if Chris found the ‘thingy’ and he pulled out an ouija board from the robe he was wearing, making a goofy ass cartoon sound effect as he did.

You shake your head, “Nooope nope nope, I refuse to take part in that. You guys can have fun getting possessed and getting featured in the next Conjuring movie, but I’m out.” Chris laughs at your skittish behavior towards the board. “Aww, is someone getting scared again?”

“No, I’m being smart. It’s basic knowledge not to fuck with spirits. You’re not always gonna have Casper the friendly ghost come through. And this is Native land, so I’ll continue to be respectful of that thank you very MUCH.” Chris raises his hands in defense, turning back to Ashley.

You start your way up the staircase after grabbing your bag, but Josh really wanted you to stick around. As you make your way up the second floor, he jogs from the fireplace to the stairs, and to you, gently grabbing your arm. “Oh c’mon, you can’t be that freaked out [Y/n].” You huff, closing your eyes and lifting your head up in a mock snobby manner as you ignore him-continuing down the hallway to a vacant room.

“Wait-are you still mad?” He asks, following behind. You enter a cozy room, the moonlight casting a beautiful glow. You turn on the bedroom light and set your bag down as Josh joins you. “Matter of fact, I am. That ‘prank’ scared me to death.” You reply and sit on the bed, removing your snow boots. He kneels down in front of you and helps remove your shoes, and you let him. It was the least he could do.

“Hey I know that was pretty terrifying, I mean hell I was scared there for a second. But that’s just how my friends and I are. We just like playing stupid and goofy tricks on each other. Sorry you got caught up in it, I should’ve warned you.” His gaze was focused on your shoelaces as he talked, untying them and then slipping off the boot-going to work on the next one. But you could tell he was sincere.

You give yourself a moment to take in the view of Josh kneeling before you, giving you thoughts that aren't innocent at all. It's almost like he's in a worshiping position, just for you. Once he is finished with your shoes, he leaves you with your socks, his beautiful green eyes looking up at you. You thought for a moment what it would've been like if he just kept going and started taking off your clothes, and from the looks of it Josh was thinking the same thing. But you knew his friends were out there waiting for him.

"It's okay, I just really scare easily. I may have overreacted a bit." You admit, trying to shake away the lewd thoughts from your mind. However, you couldn't help but stare at Josh's lips. You can only imagine what it would feel like kissing him.

“No, I get it. You were scared, it's understandable.” he gives you a smirk before adding on, “but I will keep the first thing you said in mind.”

“Hey, you ass!” You lightly kick him in the chest in a playful way and Josh just laughs at you.

“Seriously though, you really don't wanna join in on the spirit board?” Josh asks, rising from his kneeling position and now towering over you from where you sit on the bed.

“I don't know.. I'm scared of those things, like giving unknown evils a way into my life.” You bite your lip and look away, remembering all the horror movies, legends, and so-called rules of the ouija board that you've grown up hearing.

“Hey, it'll be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen. I've done it many times before.” He reassures you, putting a warm hand on your shoulder. You relish in the physical contact, craving more.

You ponder for a moment, wondering if you're really about to risk having a spirit haunt you over a hot man. But it's Josh, so how could you not give in?

“Alright, fine,” you relent and Josh lets out a childish ‘yesss!’, “I'm not going to play it though, I'll watch.” You add on at the end in a matter of fact tone.

“Okay okay that's fair,” He agrees, and you're glad he doesn't push you on it. Josh's hand that was once on your shoulder, glides down your arm to your hand, holding it in his. The feeling of his hand inconspicuously stoking down your arm sent shivers down your spine, making your stomach tingle with the need for more. You knew that Josh knew what he was doing. “Let's go.” He says, leading you up off the bed.

And Josh did know what he was doing. He has everything planned out, planned out as much as he could. Him kneeling on the ground to take off your shoes? He wanted a better look at you from below, in an intimate position. His light touches and stroking your arm? Hopefully it would send a big enough message that he's interested and down bad for you. He really does want you and from the looks of it, it seems like you're feeling it too.

When Josh was at the mental hospital, he just thought he was gonna be bored out of his mind and have to stay in that hellhole for a whole month with nothing to do besides having constant breakdowns and therapy sessions. But then you came along, and instantly he felt intrigued. You were breathtaking, even when you looked like you just got out of a fight with the embodiment of depression. You still had this vibe to you, like you still had this luring confidence and uniqueness to you under all that anxiety and suicidal thoughts.

As he grew to know you, he was even more infatuated. The way you would smile, the way your eyes would travel around while you disassociated, how your small little scratches to your arms would indicate that you were thinking of your self harm scars, he would take note and observe everything about you. He wanted you, he wanted to know everything going on in your head. And he wanted to know what you thought of him too. That’s why he invited you here, to his lodge.

Yes, he wanted to make all those fantasies he’s had about you come to real life after months of longing and having to stroke himself out to the thoughts to relieve his frustrations. But he also wanted to genuinely know more about you and your mentality. Overall, he just wanted time with you. He was, for the lack of a better word, obsessed with you.

With your hand in his, you both leave the guest room to regroup with Chris and Ashley. By the time you're in the room with him, Josh lets go of your hand and you find yourself craving more of his warmth.

“So you changed your mind?” Chris asks in a playful mocking tone, you just roll your eyes and smile.

“Nope, still not playing. But I'll watch.” You state and sit down at the table where the spirit board is getting set up. Josh is on your left, Chris is on your right, and Ashley is right across from you. You can't help but steal glances at Josh on your left, especially with how hot he looked with the candle light on him.

“To free yourself from the spirit world you must free your mind of all preconceptions, drop all inhibitions, and generally give yourself over entirely to the will of others, sublimating your every desire to the whims of the ‘spirit master’, which is me.” Chris reads the instructions but jokingly adds what he wants at the end.

“It doesn't say that.” Ashley responds to his antics.

“Aaanndd all present will remove their garments at my discretion-” Chris is cut off by Josh.

“Come on Chris, this is serious.”

“Oh I am deadly serious.” Chris says in a funny voice impression and puts his hands on his hips.

“Shush it, let's try this.” Ashley says, ready to get on with it and Josh adds a ‘Yes please’.

“Okay then, let's see what happens.” Chris surprisingly listens to them and continues, “Ashley, since you're a recent convert, why don't you be our medium for today?”

Even though you're just watching, you're starting to feel anxious and nervous about what could happen. You're worried if anything can happen to you from just being in the same room as people playing the spirit board. And you knew you were already making the wrong choice by choosing to put yourself around one. All those horror movies you grew up on really left an impression on you.

“Okay um.. Anyone there?” Ashley calls out, ”Will you reveal yourself to us… If you're there..?”

After a few seconds of waiting, you see the planchette start to move. “Oh my God, guys!” You exclaim and point in disbelief.

“Wait a minute.” Chris responds in a skeptical tone.

“Did you do that..?” Josh turns and asks Ashley but she immediately responds with denial.

“Oh it's moving again!” Chris comments before the planchette starts spelling out a word.

“H-” Ashley reads the first letter.

“Are you guys just messing around?” You ask, but your question remains unanswered. You aren't fully convinced, considering the jokes this friend group pulls on each other all the time.

“What's it spelling?” Josh is starting to sound more urgent, no longer emitting his laid back attitude which is starting to make you worry a bit more too. You shift in your chair from an uncomfortable and eerie feeling.

“Hold on-” Ashley tries to wait for the planchette to stop moving.

“How is this happening?” Josh continues sounding a bit more frantic, making you panic on the inside more. This is no longer feeling like a joke, and if it is one, it's a bad joke that's starting to mess with Josh. You thought Josh used spirit boards all the time?

“Are you moving it?” Chris asks as the planchette proceeds to move from letter to letter. He isn't convinced that this is actually real, probably due in part to not believing in the supernatural.

“I swear! It's just moving.” Ashley denied, but right as she said that, the word finished spelling.

“Holy shit…” Josh utters out and you sit in silent shock.

‘H - E - L - P’

“How are we supposed to help?” You questioned. you're clearly scared at this point, especially since it's your first experience with a spirit board.

“I don't know, what does it mean?” Ashley asks in response.

“We need to know who it is if we want to help them.” Chris adds on, and you look over to Josh to see his reaction which is unreadable at the moment.

“Who are you..?” Ashley questions the spirit board, waiting for an answer.

The pointer starts moving again and chaos ensues once more. Everyone started talking over each other in confusion, worry, and disbelief.

‘S - I - S - T - E - R’

This revelation makes your mouth open in shock. You don't know how to react so you just look over to Josh.

“Who’s sister?!” Josh asks in a firm voice, looking like he was trying to decipher what was going on.

“Oh c’mon is this for real?” Chris inquired, not believing what was going on.

“Shut up.” Josh snaps at Chris, “Ask who's sister.” You can tell Josh is getting serious, and you've never seen him in this type of way.

“Josh… it's.. it's gotta be-” Ashley is cut off but everyone here knows what she's insinuating.

“Yeah, okay well,” Josh turns to Ashley, “ask it which one!”

You put a comforting hand on Josh's knee. You don't know if it can really help, but it's the thought that counts, right? He gives you acknowledgment by sending a glance your way, almost analyzing your features.

“Ashley, ask who it is.” Chris says, dropping his playful attitude.

“Who are we speaking to…?” Ashley asks before continuing again, “Beth, is that you?”

Another wave of anxiety washes over you as you wait in anticipation. The planchette moves to confirm Beth's presence.

“Oh God.” Ashley utters in scared shock.

“This is messed up.” Chris shakes his head in disapproval.

“Josh, you don't need to play anymore..” You bring up, trying to get everyone out of the uncomfortable situation. Josh didn't look like he was doing too well.

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure because we can stop-” Ashley is cut off by Josh, his eyes fixed at the spirit board.

“No.”

“Dude, it's cool-” Chris starts, but is interrupted before he can even suggest anything.

“I want to hear what it says.” Josh affirms, his eyes meeting Chris.

You're glad Chris and Ashley aren't trying to push him to continue playing, it's quite the opposite. However, you're surprised Josh wants to keep going in the first place. He's used spirit boards before though, so you assume it's for some sort of closure. His sisters are still technically missing, even though he told you he believes they’re dead.

“Think about it. If this is actually Beth, I mean, we can find out what happened that night.” Chris suggests.

“Beth… Oh Beth we want to apologize for what happened last year with Hannah and,” Ashley's voice starts breaking with sorrowful emotion, “if you can hear this, please please know that we are all so sorry.”

“You and Hannah. We're really sorry Beth, to both of you.” Chris adds on, taking accountability for something he had no control over and wasn't apart in.

You decide to stay silent. You didn't want to overstep any boundaries and you weren't involved with his sisters enough to have a say on anything. All you could do is observe and hope that anything doesn't trigger Josh in any way, but you think you're far past that point by now. His sisters were a triggering topic in general. The pointer starts to move again.

‘H - A - N - N - A - H K - I - L - L - E - D’

You let out an audible gasp, and Ashley follows suit. “I don't know if I can keep doing this.” Ashley admits.

“We have to.” Josh urges, not ready to give up just yet. You could tell this was important to him.

“Just- just stay calm. I think it's saying to us that someone killed Hannah..” Chris speculates.

Ashley asks how Hannah was killed. The tension in the room is thicker than ever and everyone seems to be on edge. The planchette spells out something about proof in the library before completely flying off board. You jump and let out a little yelp in response, covering your face to not get hit by it. Luckily, it flies past your face.

“You know what? This is bullshit. This isn't real.” Josh stands up from his chair with a distressed and shocked look on his face. He gives Chris and (mainly) Ashley an accusatory look. Probably because she was the only one out of all of them that was in on the prank last year. You stand up at the same time as him, ready to go after him if need be, but he doesn't pay too much mind to this, still freaked out by the current events. Hell, you don't even know if Chris and Ashley were joking. But from the looks of it, they wouldn't joke about something so serious. Especially such a touchy subject like his sisters. This had to be real.

“Josh, I don't know what's going on.” Ashley instantly claims and puts her hands up, voice shaky.

“Listen, I don't know– I don't know if you think messing with me is somehow going to help me deal with my grief or water but this is not cool.”

“Josh, no! You wanted to use the spirit board–” Ashley denies and tries to explain, but he clearly isn't having any of it.

“Josh..” You try to interject but It doesn't make too much of a difference.

“Hey calm down, it's not Ash’s fault.” Chris tries to reason with him to no avail, he's already making his way out of the room.

“I don't need this right now! Okay?! You guys are full of it!” Josh shouts, clearly upset before stomping down the stairs to leave the room.

“Should we go after him??” Ashley turns to ask you and Chris with a worried look.

“Don't worry about it, I got him.” You answered, gaining a nod from Chris and Ashley.

You leave down the same stairs Josh did, hoping to find him and somehow help. If he doesn't want help, you'll give him his space. You can hear Chris and Ashley’s discussion of the events that just took place growing further and further away as you look for Josh. You just hope you can make a difference.

[a/n]: next chapter is gonna be supper juicy and smutty so get ready 👌🏽

- 🦈&🦇

[billiesguitar]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 ←last part || next part→

Fuckboy!Billie x Nerdy!Reader

- Part 2 || Au masterlist ||

Warnings - Billie slightly manipulating reader,short chapter,mentions of sex (no smut tho)

As soon as Billie left the room, I began to regret everything. what the hell was I thinking? I hastily put my clothes on and head back to my dorm, making sure to leave that orange post-it on her bed.

a week passes and i hadn't heard from her. Thank God. I made a point to rush past her in the halls and cafeteria, I regreted everything and genuinely didn't want to talk about it or hear about it ever.

But one evening, when I was studying in the library, I felt a presence behind me. I looked up and there she was, her dark hair in a messy bun and those piercing eyes staring straight into my soul. She had her hands in her pocket, leaning against the bookshelf.

"hm, funny seeing you here." she says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes and continue my reading, pretending she's not there. But she doesn't leave, she sits next to me, her leg brushing against mine.

"You've been avoiding me." she says, her voice low and teasing.

"I have not," I reply, trying to keep my cool.

"Yes, you have," she counters, "why?"

"Because, Billie, that was a mistake." I whisper, "please don't tell anyone," I beg.

"wh-" I cut her off, "promise me you wont tell anyone,"

She leans closer, "Why should I?"

"Because, I'd rather not draw that type of attention to myself." I reply, my voice shaking slightly.

"What do you mean, 'that type of attention', what kind of attention?" she asks, her smirk growing.

"You know what I mean," I mutter through gritted teeth.

she smirks, "no I don't, care to explain?"

"fuck you." I pick up my things and rush out of the library, ignoring her laughter.

she follows me out, "Okay okay, I'm sorry, I promise I won't tell anyone," she says, "But you know you liked it."

I roll my eyes at her and head back to my dorm to continue studying in peace.

The next day, I'm in my dorm when my phone buzzes, it's a text from a number I don't recognize. "What number is your dorm?" It's Billie, I know it is. I ignore it, pretending not to know who it is. my phone buzzes again

"It's Billie, we need to talk." I sigh, what could she possibly want? I decide to text back "about what?" "about what happened that night" I groan and text back "What do you want to talk about?" "I want to see you again, to appologize."

I think about it for a moment before finally replying, "Fine." "the door number?" I send it to her, and immediately regret it.

Within minutes, there's a knock on my door. I take a deep breath before opening it to find Billie standing there in a hoodie and some shorts.

"Hey," she says, her eyes searching my face for a reaction.

"Hi," I reply, stepping aside to let her in.

Her eyes scan the room before landing on me again. "So, about that night." she starts.

"I don't want to talk about it," I say, trying to sound firm.

"Why not?" she asks, sitting on my bed.

"Because it was a mistake," I repeat, "I don't do that sort of thing."

"What, have sex?" she scans my face again, "or have sex with a girl?"

I blush, "Both, I guess." I look up at her, "I guess, I'm not ready for everyone to know that I'm, y'know…"

"Gay?" she finishes for me.

I nod, feeling embarrassed.

"You don't have to be ashamed," she says, "It's who you are."

"I know," I murmur, "But I'm not ready to tell everyone."

"That's okay," she says, her voice soft, "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

We sit in silence for a moment before she speaks again, "But I'm not going to lie, I want to see you again."

My heart skips a beat, "Why?"

"You're interesting."

"Billie-"

she cuts me off, "doesn't have to be sexual if you don't want. just friends?" she flashes me a seemingly genuine smile, and I stupidly fall for it.

"Okay," I say, "but no funny business."

"Scout's honor," she says, holding up two fingers.

We sit and talk for hours, about everything and nothing. We watch movies, she makes fun of my love for romance, and I tease her about her love for horror. And somehow, we find ourselves lying on the bed, our heads on the same pillow, watching the sun rise.

It's comfortable, being around her, and I find myself forgetting the fear and embarrassment I felt that night.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

𖦹Scarlets' note - -ˋˏ- suble forshadowing??

←last part || next part→

TAGLIST - @iluvapplesxh @imurmomsfavgf @hkkuugu @krosep @stonerfromlesbos

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟCharacters Reacting to You With Serious Injurieis → aib headcanons ˚₊· ꒰🩹꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊at some point during a game you get seriously injured, leaving them worried.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊arisu ¡ niragi ! aguni x fem ¡ reader.

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊angst, sad, hurt, a little cute (?)

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊mention of injury, possible trigger, blood, implied deaths (or not so much), crying - let me know if you have anything else to add! :)

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊0,8k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊just another chapter forgotten at the bottom of the drafts. ^°^

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ

「 𝗔𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘂 𝗥𝘆𝗼𝗵𝗲𝗶 」

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ During a game of spades, one of the participants desperate to survive, He pushed her off the stair railing, causing a serious wound to open in her belly caused by a large piece of iron.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ Arisu's first reaction would be anger and fear. He couldn't help but want to run after the guy just to push him too, but he knew that would be a little wrong.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ he would take her to a place out of sight of the game master, just to try to defuse the situation a little and avoid being killed outright.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ he would be lost without knowing what to do since it would not be possible to remove the piece of iron, otherwise it would worsen the wound and cause a bloody mess.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ He would probably come up with a plan with Usagi to try to resolve the game as quickly as possible and get out of there soon.❜ɞ

ֺ⊹₊˚ʚ❛ He would stay by her side all the time, holding her hand and telling her funny memories to keep her awake.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ he would try to hold back the tears if he saw you weren’t responding. He would hug you tightly, holding you against his chest as he placed a kiss on your head.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ Arisu's biggest fear is losing everyone he loves, thus ending up alone and blaming himself for the rest of his life. He didn't know what your fate would be, but he hoped you would be okay.❜ɞ

「 𝗡𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗶 𝗦𝘂𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂 」

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ During the confusion on the beach and the discovery that it was an arena for a game of ten of hearts, everything became chaos as if the militia had completely lost what little sanity they had left. There were a lot of deaths and sounds of gunshots, so you didn't know exactly where it came from, but you couldn't help but instantly notice the sharp pain in your chest area.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ Niragi was too busy reveling in the deaths of innocent people to notice you. Reluctantly, you crawled in search of him.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ You didn't understand exactly why you were after him since the last thing you could expect from Niragi was some kind of support or help, you was well aware that he was devoid of any emotion of human solidarity.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ Niragi and you never really got along at first. You were the daughter of the militia chief, Aguni, and he was a freeloader who only cared about himself. But not long ago you broke your pride and stuck together, so to speak.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ his first reaction upon seeing you was to roll his eyes with some grumble like, "are you kidding me", or something like that.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ He would wonder how you were so stupid as to get shot instead of hiding in a safe place.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ He would never admit to having any affection for you but he would take you to an empty room just so you could die in a more "honorable" way, without being in the middle of several burned bodies.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ He would give one final shot to prevent you from suffering to death and would lock the room so they couldn't find and burn your body.❜ɞ

「 𝗔𝗴𝘂𝗻𝗶 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗼𝗻𝗼 」

ֺ⊹₊˚ʚ❛ During the chase to kill the King of Swords in the center of Shibuiya, you ended up sticking your foot in a hole in the rubble when you ran after Aguni after the pharmacy explosion, where coincidentally there was a huge iron that cut his tendon, making it impossible for him to move around.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ Upon hearing her scream, Aguni's instincts awakened and he could swear he felt his stomach move in a bad way.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ he was almost unconscious when he heard your scream, so he couldn't do much to help you, so he just looked to the side and swore it seemed like torture to see you agonizing for a long time.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ He's not a man of many words, so he probably wouldn't talk to you that much, but would try to calm you down in his own way.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ would crawl closer to you just to hold your hand and look into your eyes, almost as if he had an entire conversation in just one look. And you knew him well.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ I feel that at some point the two of them lie uncomfortably next to each other, your head on his chest as he smoothes your hair and kisses your forehead whispering sweet words that not even he thought he would say to someone one day.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ a solitary tear runs down his face when he hears you say softly, "I love you", and there he had confirmation that you would not have a future together.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛ As soon as he saw you injured he imagined that you wouldn't resist, not only because of the ugly wound but also because of other injuries caused during the fight. He felt like he could no longer live in a world where you wouldn't be by his side, but even with his desire to leave, he felt like that world wasn't worthy of leading another life in vain.❜ɞ

⊹₊˚ʚ❛A/N: I hope you enjoyed! It's been a while since I wrote this chapter, so I was lost in drafts lol. Like × reblog¡! by:: @hyunjinners .❜ɞ

[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 4 |

Part: 3 / 2 / 1

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna.

Chapter Summary: After the cafeteria incident, Gojo denies to accept your money in halves, and your primal urges of snapping at him come out after suppressing them for weeks. He’s bored of being a bully because it’s not fun anymore. Why would you give him money like that? Jeez… 🙄

Warnings: Reader is mean and Satoru is mean T_T A/N: Can’t do more than 50 mentions in a post 😭 I’m sorry I will be adding the rest of yall in the comments in the next part. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. 🥰

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To be honest, your guts were excruciatingly high yesterday. You essentially ruined everything there is. All your efforts & hardwork to get rid of Gojo’s clutches in vain because you couldn’t control your mouth. After kicking the guy down in the cafeteria, you were called by Yaga and suspended. What else did you expect really? A freshmen kicking a senior? Nope. When Satoru does it you’re sure it wouldn’t have anyone bat a single eye to the ordeal. Another grumpy reminder that — you & the Honored one, are different. Satoru didn’t need to prove it himself.

Cowardice and your name are rhymes right now. All that classes for Taijutsu paid off to recover your leftover shred of dignity, however, you couldn’t fathom the expression in Gojo's face. He looked amused, impressed… weird. Satoru looks weird. He didn't respond when you told him to shove the money up his ass. Now you have to walk the talk. Staring at the wall, you try your best to think of a believable excuse to ask your mom for the sum of money. You check your savings, only 700 dollars. You should probably kill yourself. You can't really ask your mother about this… what were you thinking?

The thoughts are cut off by Satoru's blade like voice in your head. God you hate him so much. So much… if you were ever forgiven for a murder, it would be his. Your mind was tired with everything happening and you could feel the force in your heavy lids lulling you in bed. School next day…

You take your 700 dollars with you, you will tell the bastard that you will return the rest of the money tomorrow. Once you're outside Tokyo Tech, you take a deep breath. Walking inside and ready to be mauled. There he was, standing at the entrance and waving pathetically cheerfully. He loves making you suffer doesn't he? You grit your jaw, walking towards him. "Good morning, Gojo san." You could almost choke yourself for adding the honorific.

"Morning lil shit." He muses, leaning in closer to you until his breath fans over your face. "We were bein' a little too bratty yesterday." He muses, and your face lacks colour instantly. His eyes were launched at your frame without a care in the world. He likes making you suffer, doesn't he?

"So?" He clicks his tongue, smirking in his usual charming way, looking at you through his glasses. "Kneel down and apologize, and I'll forgive you. We can start again, no biggie. See? I have such a big heart." You bite your lip, he has no regards for your self-respect whatsoever.

You finally meet his eyes, gathering your courage to withstand his insults once again. "I have uhm, seven hundred dollars with me right now." Oh you look pathetic fiddling with your bag and giving him the cash you saved for your new laptop. "I will return the rest tomorrow." You sound determined, at least your mom wouldn't pay the full sum of it. It would be bearable.

"I can't shove it up my ass s' too less." Satoru laughs, clinging on to what you said to him. He almost feels sick now. This was unnecessarily dragged to the point of no return, he thought you would apologize and beg him to leave you alone, and he would. Then you'd see how amazing he is and why everyone is in love with him. Why girls wish they could go on a date with him pft- even if he talks to them, they feel grateful.

Here you were, holding a sum of money for the richest boy in school, in the city even. "I'll pay you the rest tomorrow." You managed to speak, and Satoru HATES this.

There is a difference between bullying and teasing and abuse. He crossed that line, not backing down because he hoped you would. You're the first one not to. He feels his chest tighten and a pinching in his throat as you hold his wrist, bringing it closer to you and putting the sum of money on his palm.

His baby-blues widen at that, and it feels like the money is practically burning his skin. It's a reflex with which he yanks his hand away. As if its burning him.

"I don't take half-payments." He managed to come up with that pathetic lie, growling and enraged, walking away.

What a fucking cunt… but hey; at least he didn't bother you for the rest of the day.

During the lunch time, you almost feel liberated that you don't have to report to him anymore. His problem he didn't accept the money. His fucking problem. You stood on your words, almost… you will give him the rest of the money tomorrow and be free of him for good. How amazing… how beautiful to imagine that.

Everyone fears him, everyone loves him. What kinda dude even. Maybe he doesn't have any real friends because he bought them all with money. Tsk…

You take your food and walk to the area where your classmates stood. You are like a walking marvel to them, someone who stood up to her senior and kicked his ass. What you don't know is Satoru Gojo ended all chances of revenge coming your way. What does it take? A simple: 'You have beef with her you have beef with me'.

Lunch is… peaceful, until you notice Satoru walking in the cafeteria, drinking Cola and with his pathetic group of friends. They can rot too.

You looked down, evading eye contact is the best way to avoid any unwanted conversations after all.

You were eating secluded, your only friend sitting beside you who doesn't mind being judged to be around you sitting next to you. "Uh oh, he's coming here." She hummed, getting nervous. You sighed, looking at her and holding her hand gently. "Thanks for your company, I can handle from here, I promise." You wouldn't let her be stomped by the Prince charming. She's been kind to you. "Are you sure?" She asked, and you nodded, patting her shoulder.

Before she could lift her plate, Satoru sat next to you. "I don't remember allowing anyone to leave? Did I?" he smiles, all childish, feigning a harmless look. "Sit. Down." He warns and she instantly sits down. You could feel her hands shiver. No, you wouldn't let her be dragged into this.

"What is it? Gojo san." You looked at him, making eye contact. "Just came to check if you had a spine." His hand lands on your nape, touching and probing the spine bone peeking out. "You do, no?"

You shudder, leaning away a little only to have him hold your neck and pull you close, whispering gravely, "If you haven't paid me back then you can't run off from your job, Pet."

You snarled at that nickname again. "I told you to take the fucking money today and tomorrow." Struggling gravely and looking at him like a wounded lion. He's wounded your pride, your self-respect.

"And I said, I do not pick up pennies. Until then, you do what I say." He chuckled, "Or you're dumb and lack common sense?"

It's been weeks. Literal weeks and you're at your breaking point. Frustration bubbles in your eyes and they gloss up. You don't want this jerk to see you like this. Fucking hell you don't!

"What did I even do to you I don't understand…" You mumble, watching him lean his hand away.

At this point things have been too rotten, and Satoru hates to admit but he just wants to hang out. He can't admit that now after raining hell on you and he's too prideful to. It's not fun anymore, it stopped being fun the moment he asked you to fetch ice-cream and the moment you looked at him with 'expected' eyes when he pulled that stunt in the cafeteria.

"You've been a bitch that's all." He shrugs, looking away. His tone surprisingly tender. "Maybe if you can apologize for being one instead of all this drama and cryin' and victim bla-"

A loud smack echoed through the hall, and Gojo's cheeks had your handprint crisp and clear. "I'm fucking sorry I wouldn't suck your cock and wag my tail around you pathetically." Oh you're losing all of the carefully supressed rage, your patience waning off to nothing. You've been supressing and supressing and supressing…. and now it's erupting out. Dangerously.

Tears fall from your eyes as you look at him, "I hate you so much I wish you could just fucking die! Not everyone's as rich as you ASSHOLE! MY MOM WOULD FREAK THE FUCK OUT AND CALL ME A USELESS PIECE OF SHIT FOR BORROWING MONEY ON RUINING SOMEONE'S HIGH CLASS SHIRT! Not everyone's born with a silver spoon!" People look at you and Satoru both judgementally. You know things have sprung out of hand. "You fuckin- GO! GO AND ASK MY MOTHER AND MY FATHER AND MY BROTHER AND EVERYONE IN MY LAST NAME TO PAY MISTER GOJO SATORU BACK BECAUSE HIS SHIRT GOT RUINED AND HE DIDN'T GET AN APOLOGETIC COCKSUCKING BITCH IN RETURN!!"

Before your senses could take over, you took your bottle and put it on his hair, drenching him. You can't let Karma take care of him, you are Karma.

Satoru only stays silent and Suguru snorts from the sidelines. In a weird, sadistically twisted way, he likes what happened. You just removed some of his guilt with this.

"R-right.." He hummed, "Okay so…" He stood up, extending an arm. "Now that we're even. I think we are…. let's restart. Nyeh?"

"Gojo Satoru." He extends his hand, as if he is introducing himself for the first time ever. Your eyes will fall off your fucking sockets and you will die of an awkward mouth-agape heart failure.

What the fuck was wrong with this dude?

"ROT IN HELL!"

[yzzart]

Could you do a piece where snow forced reader to dress more conservatively and change her hair (cut and style) compared to her normal look and clothing?

"𝐀𝐧 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞."

pairing: president!Coriolanus Snow x f!reader.

summary: Coriolanus didn't just change him but he also changed you.

warnings: mentions of unhappiness, explicit words + take a look at the masterlist!

word count: 1.024!

notes: here it is, anon! and i think it was too long 😖 but i'm satisfied with this work, enjoy it and i hope you like it!

The one in the mirror, truly you?

That question, a confused inquiry, had compromised itself in your mind; with no intention of simply disappearing and leaving you alone. — A lump of embarrassment and imposition formed in your throat.

The image of a woman wearing cautious, at one point even intimidating, and, extremely, expensive clothes was trapped in the huge mirror. — The fabric of the white pigmented dress was very well prepared and dedicated, accompanied by some divine pearls; it would be cruel to touch them. — Jewels around her neck, giving her an air of purity and elegance.

Her posture was honorable, drawing attention from discreet and daring glances; a lucky woman who everyone wanted to get their hands on. — Being the reason for fights and threats between compromised souls.

That wasn't you, but at the same time it was. — That conservative, intimidating style would never be used by you on a casual day or for your good will; your chest would never feel comfortable in such a garment. — You would never feel comfortable with that whole situation.

However, your loved one admired that change in you. — Such a drastic, sudden and radical change that Coriolanus brought to his life; which he dedicated with love and care.

Coriolanus changed everything in his chest, and perhaps even in his soul, throwing that poor, rotten carcass somewhere no one would find it. — And when he saw the chance to change you, you sweet, naive girl, Snow wouldn't let it fall through his fingers.

All the best articles of clothing in the Capital were in your hands, gifted by Coriolanus. — It didn't matter the price, if countless hands were spent producing that fabric, he wanted to see you using it; independent of all. — And you made a point of making him satisfied, happy.

Even though you hated with all your strength, which was so fragile and delicate, that image that was beginning to be built in you; thinking deeply about your old image, about how you really were. — Your chest was tearing, burning and wanting to destroy every bit of that glass that witnessed his current reflection.

But, Coriolanus loved you that way. — He was so pleased.

"Here you are!" — Upon being mentioned, mentally, Coriolanus's voice echoed through the modest and cold room; coincidentally, like him. — Making your thoughts disappear, as if they never existed and didn't bother you.

Wanting to see him, you directed your head towards the door and came across those deep, vigorous eyes, which were once dreamy, staring at you. — The expression of pride formed on Coriolanus's fascinating face; a face that you are sure was carved by blessed souls.

Coriolanus admired you, agreeing how that dress, personally chosen by him, hugged your body in an exquisite way; you were perfect. — If he had the opportunity, even though he has and could snub her, Coriolanus would keep you for his eyes only.

And that spark of thought, an idea began to sink into the head of the boy, or rather, the man Snow every day, minute and second.

"My beautiful girl." — Coriolanus directed his steps towards you, causing some noises on the floor coming from his shiny and expensive shoes; shoes worth half the lives of the Panem. — "So beautiful…"

"Thank you, Coryo." — A thank you in such a fragile voice, almost coming out as a whisper; deep down, you didn't want to thank him for that compliment because you felt like it wasn't really meant for you.

Now the presence of Coriolanus was behind you and joining the mirror; the difference in height drew so much attention, giving you butterflies in your stomach. — You couldn't justify whether it was the excitement of seeing him or the intimidating feeling he showed, but you didn't deny the happiness that grew in your chest. — He was there with you.

Well, a different reflection of the Coriolanus you knew but he was there.

Without saying anything or even sighing, Coriolanus passed his arms covered by the long-sleeved white t-shirt, which was very reminiscent of his dear father's, around your waist; his hands passed over the slightly rough but comfortable fabric of the dress. — There was nothing comfortable about that dress for you. — Distributing a simple squeeze, a sign of wanting your attention, in the region.

For a second, you held your breath, not knowing the reason for this action, and your eyes focused on the mirror. — Coriolanus' head resting on your shoulder, his lips forming a convinced and enchanted smile before you; equal to a man when building a work with perfection and a lot of dedication.

"That dress looks perfect on you." — His dangerous and arrogant lips left long kisses on your neck and areas close to your shoulder; it tickled, it didn't bother you, and it let silent grunts escape your mouth. — "Don't you agree, my dear?" — Coriolanus wanted to elicit a specifically positive and obedient response from you.

At that very moment, and for the first time that morning, Snow didn't get what he wanted. — No words came out of your mouth, just a miserable sigh; still feeling his kisses on your sensitive part of your body.

"Answer me." — He interrupted the sealing session with his authoritative voice, a tone of voice that he began to present in recent times; Coriolanus listened and watched you swallow hard. — "Or are you not satisfied with everything i have done and given you?" — He was bitter and so cruel at the same time with those words.

and God, that's not what you were thinking.

"No, Coryo!" — Was it a scream? You didn't even realize that you had let out a very loud tone of voice. — "No, no." — Shaking your head quickly and disagreeing with the fallacies your lover uttered, you tried to calm the situation. — "That dress was great, i loved it."

Now, a nervous and distressed smile formed on your beautiful and stubborn lips against Coriolanus' venomous and superb smile. — He had you in his cold, rich hands, he had you in the cage like a little bird crying for freedom. — He had you.

"You don't know how happy i'm about this, my love."

[qrrieterisunnq]

his biggest secrete - Quinn Hughes

quinn!hughes x zegras!reader Summary: You are at the lake house with the Hughes brothers, Trevor, and their friends. One night you all decide to go to the club. Thinking this will be another great night with boys until some guy ruins it revealing your secret. request: yes/no A/N: okay, finally there is the fic I published twice by mistake. I hope you'll like it, i know nobody probably read my talks so, just enjoy it. I'm so sorry it took so long, I didn't have much time. likes are good, reblogs are better &lt;3 gif not mine word count: 5,59K warning(s): yelling, angry Trevor, crying, angst, mad Quinn, hitting, fights, fluff Quinn, unedited, mentions of rape, MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut

masterlist | wip's

Tapping lightly at the steering wheel of your car to the rhythm of the song playing on the radio, you shift the gear, to make your car drive faster.

You’ve been driving for half an hour now, enjoying the breathtaking nature of Michigan. You spent every summer, for the past twenty years, in the lake house with the Hughes brothers. Your parents were great friends with Ellen and Jim, so they took you there every time. You have here even your room since you spent there all summer.

With a smile, you turn to the street where is their house located. As you reached the house, you parked your car on the driveway. As soon as you step out of the car, a pair of hands wrapped around your waist spinning you.

You squeal from surprise laughing, just like the person holding you. As soon as your feet touch the ground again, you turn around only to meet the youngest brother, Luke.

“Lukey!” pulling him in a hug, you rest your head on his chest, breathing in his scent.

“Hey Buba!” he whispers in your hair, planting there kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Lu.” you pull away only to be pulled in another hug, this time from Jack, who spins with you and places you on the hood of your car, laughing.

“Hey, little Zegras,” he smiles brightly kissing your cheek. “How was your ride?” he steps between your legs, while Luke is sitting next to you.

“Great, but the flight was terrible,” you chuckle. They both look at you, signaling for you to continue. “I was sitting in the seat at the aisle right, and next to me was some guy, who was, all the flight, looking at me and touching me. It was creepy.” you sigh looking them in the eyes.

“You should tell that to the flight attendant,” Luke says, anger in his voice.

“Yeah, but you know I don’t like talking to people I don’t know.” you shrug my shoulders.

Before Jack can say anything Trevor shoves him away, and pulls you in a hug. You wrap your legs around his waist, hugging him tightly. One of his hands is resting on your back and the other is on your head, pulling you tightly to him.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much, sis,” he whispers in your ear, kissing the side of your head, his lips staying there for a while. You snuck your head closer to his neck tear sliding down your cheek.

“I missed you too, Trev. So much,” you whisper tilting your head to look him in the eyes. Smile covering his lips his eyes shining with joy and happiness. He bends down pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he always does. You lean your forehead on him, enjoying the moment with your brother whom you haven’t seen in almost a year.

“Okay, get down, you getting heavy,” he whines letting go of your head and back, you slide down on the ground, his hand swinging around your shoulders hugging you again.

You breathe in his scent, reminding you of the home. The smell of his perfume and his masculinity.

“Oh, look who finally honored us with their presence,” a deep voice comes from the house door. We all turn to the sound of his voice.

And there he really is the one and only guy who owns my heart. Smirk playing on his lips, his hair messy as it always is, your hand aching to run through these curls.

A smile immediately forms on your lips as you make your way to him, trying to be as casual as possible so your brother and the boys don’t get any suspicions.

As soon as you’re in front of him, you’re pulled into his warm presence, your face dug into his chest feeling his heart racing quickly. You titled your head resting it in the crock of his neck, placing here small kiss, as you made sure no one saw it.

“I missed you, love, it’s been the longest week in my life and I’m not counting the roadies,” he whispered making me chuckle.

“I missed you too Q. I love you,” you whisper so no one hears us.

“I love you too.” he smiles before he pulls away, so guys don’t get suspicious.

“Hey Quinn, leave her alone, it’s our time with her, you have her in Vancouver all to yourselves, so let her enjoy her time with us,” Luke growls at him playfully pulling you away from him.

“Yeah, but she’s on the other side of the town, so I get to see her once in week.” he protests pulling you closer. The funny thing is that you have seen each other every single day since you lived together. You, well Quinn, bought an apartment in the middle of the town so you have it close to college and he to the training, but of course guys don’t know about it.

“And we see her only two months in a year and the few games we play against you or near Vancouver,” Jack says this time earning a grimace from Quinn.

“Okay, okay, I think I’ll take a nap after the flight and then we can go on the lake, hmm?” you raise an eyebrow at them with a smile on your face.

It’s amazing to see your family again. You missed them during the whole season.

They all nod, taking care of your luggage, as you make your way to your room.

“You can place them there in the corner,” you point at the place next to you table. You'll unpack it later, you're not in the mood to do it.

You pop down on the bed, bouncing on it slightly. When all your luggage is in place, boys stand in front of you with smiles on their faces.

“What?” you laugh looking at them confused.

“Nothing,” they say at the same time. Trev bends down kissing your forehead.

“Take a nap, come to us when you wake up, okay.” he smiles down at you.

“I sure will.” you laugh. As soon as they leave you get out off the bed, taking out clothes to change into. You take off your shirt and bra, only to change into your blue bikini and Trevor’s long shirt. You slip off your shorts and panties, changing into the same bikini panties.

With a smile on my lips, you lay down under the blanket. You open your phone and send a quick text to Quinn before you drift to sleep.

Dove - come to me, make sure guys don’t get suspicious. I’m waiting.💖😏

In a few minutes, strong arms sneak around your waist pulling you into their hard hot chest. You hummed in comfort pressing your ass in their groin, knowing very well, that the person behind you is Quinn.

“Hi, my little dove,” he whispered in your ear, planting small kisses down your neck.

“Hey, Quinny,” you mumble, a smile playing on your lips.

— — — — — — —

“Y/n! Get your big ass in here!!” Trevor shouts from the living room. You’re still in your room, getting ready for today’s night. They made up their minds you have to go to the bar today, so right now, you’re standing in front of your mirror putting on your lip gloss.

Muffled voices from the living room, before your doors open, revealing your hot-ass-boyfriend standing there in a white button-up shirt and grey pants. The first three buttons on his shirt are undone revealing his collarbones.

You smile at him through the mirror, while he’s checking you out.

“Take a picture, it will last longer.” you tease him, swaying your hips seductively.

“You look stunning, my little dove,” he whispered.

“Thank you. You don’t look bad yourself,” you smirk at him. Placing the lip gloss on your table, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you for a quick kiss.

“We have to go, baby. Guys are impatient,” he smirks, placing a soft kiss on your lips. With a smile, you take your phone and purse, where you will in a matter of minutes carry all of their phones.

“Finally!” Jack exclaims. “What took you so long?”

“How do you think I turn myself into this? It takes some time to look like this,” you say in a ‘duh’ tone, making them chuckle. You look at Trevor whose eyes are already on you, his brows furrowed together. “What?” you look at him with confusion written all over your face.

“Nothing, but you could take longer dress.” he points out. You are wearing a black long-sleeved spaghetti dress that ends in the middle of your tights, showing your medusa tattoo.

“Trevor,” you sigh, pulling the dress over the tattoo. “I’m trying to forget about it. It doesn’t help me that you remind me about it.” you swallow hard looking down at your tattoo.

“I’m sorry y/n.”

“Fine, end of your siblings’ love! We have a party to attend!” Luke yells, changing the topic of our conversation.

“Who’s driving?” you look around. Your eyes linger on your hot-ass boyfriend who is already looking at you with a smirk on his lips.

“Me, I won’t drink, I’m not in the mood, besides, someone has to take care of these two.” he points at Jack and Luke, who look at him offended.

“Hey, what are you talking about?” Luke looks at him offended.

“You know exactly, what he’s talking about,” you cock your brow at him. He sticks his tongue out.

“Okay! I think it’s time to take off.” Quinn sighs pushing you out of the house.

As soon as you are out, Trevor runs to Quinn’s car, standing next to the passenger doors, already holding the handle.

“No,” Q shakes his head when he sees what is Trevor up to. “You’re sitting in the back with these two. That’s y/n’s seat,” he says shoving him away and opening the door for me.

Your cheeks reddening at his gesture. You sit in, sending a smirk to Trevor.

“Bitch.” he mouths at you. You love it when Trevor is trying to be mean to you.

“Ass.” you mouth back, grinning. Jack and Luke are already sitting in the back, bickering over something. Trevor sits behind you, kicking in your seat like a kid. Quinn sits down behind the steering wheel, starting the engine.

With a smile, you connect your phone with the car, playing your summer playlist, you made two years ago when you and Luke were bored.

After ten minutes, you are at the place. Killing the engine, Quinn steps out, just like the three in the back seat. You stay in the car for a while to reapply your lip gloss. When you’re done, and ready to get out, the doors open, revealing a large hand. You look up, your eyes meeting with big blue eyes, that belong to your lovely man. You smile at him, placing your hand in his, letting him help you get out of the car.

You look around realizing, the boys are already inside the bar, so it doesn’t surprise you, when his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you to him.

“Hi.” you grin at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hi,” he smiles pulling you even closer. “You look stunning, little dove.” you smile up at him, your fingers playing with the hair on his neck.

“Thank you, you look good too, but we shouldn’t be doing this, someone sees us, and my brother will find out, just like yours.” You sigh but pull him closer to you to rest your forehead on his.

“I know, love, but I need to kiss you. I don’t know if I’m able to keep you as a secret anymore. I want the whole world to know you’re my fucking woman. No one else’s.” he whispers, nudging his nose in yours.

“Can you wait till the weekend? I want some time with you. To enjoy the adrenalin we have when we sneak around.” you grin at him, as your lips graze his in slow motions while you talk.

“I think I can do that,” he smiles against your lips, giving it a quick peck, before he steps aside. You two make your way in the bar.

You look around, catching a glimpse of Luke’s hair in the box near you. You nudged Quinn, pointing to the place where they are. He nods his head, his hand making its way to my lower back as he leads us to them.

“What took you so long?” Trevor eyes us, his brows furrowed in sharp v. His eyes land on Quinn’s hand, which is still placed on my lower back.

You act like nothing’s going on when our eyes meet and answer his question. “I was reapplying my lipgloss and Quinn waited on me.” you shrug sitting down next to him, Quinn takes a seat opposite to you, at the end of the bench next to Jack.

“Okay. What do you want for drinking?” Trevor looks at you after a while. Jack and Quinn are bickering over something, Luke is on his phone texting with someone.

“I don’t know. Margarita or Tequila sunrise.”

“Okay, I’m going to get it. Guys, you wanna beer?” Trev shouts, Jack and Luke nod sending him a thankful smile. “You wanna water or a non-alcoholic drink?”

“You can get me a mojito,” Quinn says after a short while. Trev nods nudging your legs so he can get out. You let him out, then sat more in the middle of the bench.

Even though you’re planning on dancing later you want your drink first.

You can feel Quinn’s eyes on you as you scroll on your Instagram. After a while, you raise your gaze to meet his beautiful blue eyes.

“What?” you cock your brow at him. He shakes his head biting his lower lips as his eyes travel down your neck as they land on your cleavage.

“Stop it.” you mouth. There is no point in yelling, the music is so loud he wouldn’t hear, and no one would.

His smirk grows wide but disappears when Trevor appears next to you, you’re in front of you.

“Thank you.” You shout in his ear so he hears it. He nods his head, kissing your temple.

You sip from your drink, by the taste figuring out it’s Tequila sunrise. You let out a groan enjoying the taste.

When you’re halfway down the cocktail you stand up, the attention of the boys on you.

“I’m going to dance,” you yell in Trevor’s ear. He nods and lets you out. You make your way to the dance floor, swaying your hips on the way there.

You sway your hips to the beat of the music, your hands trailing down your sides, enjoying the freedom you have, the loud music vibrating through your body.

You love parties, not because of the alcohol, but because of the freedom to dance the way you want. After the rape, you were unable to go to any party or any bar. You felt like everyone knew what happened to you and would judge you.

But now, two years after the rape, you have a boyfriend who loves you so much, family and friends who helped you through and most likely you have yourself and that’s all you need.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by two hands sneaking around your waist. You place you hands on them thinking it’s one of the guys, but the hairs on them make you realize it’s none of them.

Abruptly you turn around meeting with a pair of green eyes. You try to get out of his hold, but his hands tighten around your his, drawing you closer to him.

“Get off of me.” You yell at him, trying to get out, but you have no chance against him. He’s 6 feet something by the way you have to tilt your head back.

“Oh, come on, you were enjoying it, the whole time.” he leans into you whispering the words in your ear.

“Let me go.” you try again, your eyes starting to tear, this time grabbing his hand and shoving the from your hips, but his grip tightens even more, causing you to hiss from the pain, tears sliding down your cheeks.

In the moment he’s shoved away from you and you are pulled in a hug. Your eyes land on furious Quinn punching the guy in the face as Trevor and Jack are trying to get him off the guy while Luke holds you in his arms.

As soon as Trevor and Jack manage to pull Quinn off of the guy he storms towards you, pulling you in a bone-crushing hug. You snuggle your head in his chest, a sob leaving your mouth.

“It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.” he says in your ear, as he pulls you more into him.

“I-I thought it’s o-one you.” you cry in his chest clinging onto him.

“Shh,” he whispers, placing hands on your cheeks as he leans down to kiss you.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” Trevor shouts from behind you, forcing you to step away from Quinn. As soon as you were away from him, Trevor’s fist collided with Quinn’s face, causing him to stumble backward.

“Trevor!” you shout in disbelief standing in front of Quinn.

“Move, y/n,” he growls looking down at you. You shook your head, tears running down your cheeks, making his eyes soften as he unclenched his fists.

“We should go out,” Jack says looking around at the people looking at you.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Luke joins him, pushing you all out of the bar.

As soon you’re out of the bar, Trevor’s hand grabs your arm, pulling you away from Quinn who’s surrounded by his brothers.

“What were you thinking?! Sleeping with my friend behind my back?” he hisses at you through his teeth.

“It’s not like th-” you try to say, but he won’t let you finish you sentence before he starts talking again.

“Don’t even try! I’m not blind, I saw how he looked at you the whole night I just thought I was making it in my mind,” he says, his hand tightening around your arm. “I want you to end it. I don’t care if you just fuck or whatever, end it, now,” he says before he let you and makes his way to Quinn. “And YOU! I thought we were clear about the rules. Never sleep with my SISTER! You promised you would take care of her while I’m not with her, not to fucking FUCK HER!” he shouts at him, his fist landing on Quinn’s nose this time.

“Trevor!” You shout in shock, running to Quinn who holds his nose, blood dripping on the ground.

“For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with YOU!” You shout out tears start to form at the edge of your eyes. In every situation, that someone is mad because of you, it’s hard for you to hold tears in. Jack and Luke are holding Trevor so you can take a look at Quinn’s nose.

As you grab his face in your palms, you hear how’s Trevor trying to get out of the hold of Jack and Luke. You raise Quinn’s head, his nose covered in blood just like his mouth and chin. Tears now running down your cheeks as you reach into your purse pulling out tissues to wipe out the blood.

“Y/n,” Quinn’s voice comes out as a whisper but you ignore it as you wipe out the blood. “Baby,” he whispered taking hold of your hand with the one that wasn’t covered in blood. “Hey, don’t cry,” he whispers looking into your eyes with a pleading look. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.”

“Don’t fucking talk to her!” Trevor’s voice comes from behind you. You turn slightly behind you, only to catch a glimpse of fuming mad Trevor who’s still trying to get to us.

“I will talk to her as much as I want and whenever I want for fuck’s sake. She’s my girlfriend.”

Quinn says making himself clear and loud.

“And she’s my sister!” Trevor says this time in a calmer voice as he sees the tears on my cheeks.

“Okay! Both of you stop! Can we go home and do this at home? People are watching!” you sigh not daring to look at the people shooting you glances.

Trevor looks around sighing at the sight of at least ten people watching you and whispering. He nods and strips out of the boy’s hold before he makes his way to the car. You turn back to Quinn wiping away the rest of the blood so he looks normal when he drives you home. You pull out two tampons from your purse.

“No, you won’t do that!” Quinn states as soon as he sees what you’re holding.

“Yes, I will. Now please shut up,” you say uncompromisingly opening the tampons and sticking them in his nose holes.

“I look ridiculous,” he sighs shaking his head. Luke came to you, letting out a chuckle as soon as he saw Quinn. “Oh shut up Moosey!” he shoves him away, grabbing your hand and leading you to his car, where’s already Jack and Trevor.

Trevor clenches his hands in fists as soon as he sees your intertwined fingers. You try to let go of his hand, but Quinn tightens his hold on your signaling you to not.

You know he’s done hiding, but you don’t know if he realizes that he’s just provoking Trevor or is aware of it. You squeeze his hand, smiling at him. He opens the car letting us all in.

As you all sit in the car, uncomfortable silence is surrounding you. Trevor sends death glares to Quinn through the review mirror.

This is going to be a long ride.

— — — — — — —

“Trevor, can you please listen to me!” you shout at him when he got out of the car pacing to the house. You run out of the car after him.

“I don’t wanna listen to any of the shit you want to tell me,” he yells making you flinch. “You are sneaking behind my back with my best friend, like some whore!” as soon as the words left his mouth, guilty is written all over his face. “Y/n I-I didn’t mea-”

“Yes, you did,” you choke out feeling the tears sliding down your cheeks again, for the third time tonight. “You meant it and you know you did,” you swallow the sob in your throat as you take a deep breath. “I-I know it wasn’t right to not tell you right away, but I was afraid you would react this way.”

“Fuck, y/n I really didn’t mean to say that,” he whisper, his hands running through his hair.

“You did, Trevor. You meant it. You know you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it. And I hope you realize I don’t deserve these words.” you say before you make your way upstairs to your room.

As soon as you’re in your room, you lock the door, and let out a sigh. The tears spilling over the edge and running their way down your cheeks. You let out the sob you were holding in, the whole time you were talking to Trevor.

You lay down on the bed and curl up in a ball, letting the sobs out.

Ever since you and Quinn started dating, you knew Trevor would react badly, but you had no idea that he would react this badly.

You know you should’ve told him that you and Quinn are a thing but you were afraid of how he would react, and what would he do. And you were right.

You don’t know how long you’ve been lying here with your thoughts, but a light knock on your door interrupted me.

“Baby, it’s me,” Quinn’s quiet voice sends shivers down your spine, and another sob escapes your mouth. “Can I come in?” he asks, his voice calm and sweet.

“It’s locked,” you whisper, knowing he probably didn’t hear it.

“Y/n, baby, please, open the door,” he sighs when he tries to open the door. “I want to be here for you!” he pleads. You can imagine the pout he has on his face.

With a sigh, you wrap yourself up in the blanket as you make your way to the door unlocking it. The door swings open and you are embraced with a tight hug.

He wraps his hands around your shoulders and neck to keep you in him. You wrap your hands around his waist, as a sob escapes your throat.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers, smoothing your hair. “Trevor will cool down by tomorrow and we’ll talk to him, okay?” You nod your head, breathing in his scent. “I love you, baby,” he whispers in your ears.

“I love you too,” yoy murmured in his chest. He pulls away from you, leading you to bed and lying down with you.

“Go sleep, baby, we’ll deal with this tomorrow.” he kissed your forehead, tucking you more into him. You don’t really know how long you’ve been lying until you eyes closed and you fell asleep.

— — — — — — —

The next morning, you’re sitting at the table with the three brothers. Trevor is still sleeping, which is normal, he won’t be up until ten.

You’re sitting next to Quinn, who has his left hand placed on your tight, as his thumb draws small circles on your skin. It’s his habit. He learns that it helps you when you are nervous, but you think, sometimes when he does it, it’s more for him, to keep him calm and to be less nervous.

When you woke up, Quinn wasn’t in bed. You panicked, that maybe Trevor saw him, and something happened. You quickly got out of your bed and headed down, only to find the three brothers making breakfast.

You’ve to say they overdone themselves. This is the best breakfast you had in a week. Quinn’s usually the one who cooks, which is perfect because you’d be able to burn your whole kitchen. But because he came here a week earlier than you, you were left home alone with a small amount of food, so you were stuck with take-out and KFC.

“I…uhm…I have to ask you, okay,” Luke blurts out in the silence just in the moment when you shove another bite in your mouth. “How…how long have you two…you two been a thing?” he asks pointing between us with a fork.

You and Quinn share a glance before he clears his throat. “Uhm, we’ve been together since the end of the last season.” Jack’s and Luke’s jaws drop.

“So, that’s why you had that little talk with Jamie?” Jack’s face light up with realization, as you’re in confusion. You turn your head at Quinn who’s sending diggers to Jack.

“What talk?” you ask, your full attention on Quinn as you let go of his hand. He scratches the back of his neck, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Oh it was nothing, just told him to stop acting like an asshole when he’s around you, that you’re not interested.” he shrugged, looking down at his plate.

“Really, Quinn?” giggle escapes your mouth. “You were jealous? Why? You know me and Jamie are just friends. Seriously he flirts with everything that has boobs and pussy.” placing your hand on his tight you give it a squeeze.

“I know, but we were together for two months and I was scared, okay?” he says looking deep into your eyes. You just nod, because you know that Quinn hates talking about his feelings in front of other people.

You were about to ask, what’s today’s plan, when Trevor’s figure stops in the doorframe. His eyes roam the room before they land on your hand on Quinn’s tight. You know you should’ve probably taken it off, but what’s the matter when he already knows?

He cleared his throat looking up at Quinn’s face. The bridge of his nose is purple, and the bruise abound his left eye is starting to show up.

“I’m…ugh…I’m sorry how I reacted, yesterday,” he mumbled looking at Quinn.

“‘S okay, I should’ve expected it,” Quinn nods with a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah, well, can we maybe talk about it after breakfast?” this time his eyes divert to yours.

You look away and nod. “But if you wanna act like an overprotective asshole, then I have nothing to tell you.” you look him dead in the eyes.

“I won’t,” shakes his head. You nod signaling him to sit down and eat.

The rest of the breakfast was silent, only quiet whispers between Luke and Jack about hockey.

When you all were done with breakfast, you take the plates and make your way to the kitchen. You place them in the sink, preparing yourself to wash them. You know you can simply put them in the dishwasher, but you don’t want to have that conversation with Trevor.

“Y/n,” speaking of the devil, Trevor’s voice sounds from behind you as you stop in your movements. “Can we please talk?” he let out a sigh, you can hear his bare feet hitting the floor as he makes his way to you.

“Yeah, I just do the dishes,” you mumble as you want to continue washing, but his hands stop you, catching yours.

“The dishes can wait,” he sighs when he turns you around, but your eyes look anywhere but him. “Please?” you finally look up at him, the desperation in his eyes clear.

“Fine,” you dry your hands and walk over to the table where is Quinn still sitting, this time with the phone in his hand. “But you will listen and won’t say a word until we’re done, are we clear?” you look at him as you sit down next to Quinn, who puts the phone down as soon as he sees me.

“Okay.”

You look at Quinn asking him silently if he wants to start. He turns his head back to Trevor who’s already looking at him.

“Okay, first of all, I love your sister and I won’t leave her just because you don’t like we’re together,” Quinn states firmly making no room for Trevor to argue. “And second, I’m sorry, that I broke the rule, but you can’t control who you love.”

Trevor’s eyes wander to you, asking you silently if it’s true.

“I love him too, Trev. And you know how much I hated your stupid rules since the beginning.” you sigh, feeling the rock fall from your shoulders as you finally tell him.

“I don’t want to say that I can imagine how you feel, so I won’t, but believe me, when I tell you, that your sister is the woman of my life,” Quinn confesses. Your eyes grow wider at the words that left his mouth. You know that Quinn loves you more than himself and hockey, but hearing it come in this way, felt different.

Trevor nods, looking at me. “How long…when did you two..?” he stumble over his words not knowing how to ask.

“Year, since the end of the last season,” you say, taking a hold of Quinn’s hand. He interlock his fingers with yours placing your hands in his lap.

Trevor’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed in shock. He stands up, and one of his hands goes to his jaw as he stands in front of the glass door.

You look at Quinn as you stand up, he lets go of your hand and gives you a reassuring smile. You slowly walk to Trevor and stand in front of him. His eyes immediately fell on yours as tears started to form in them. Your heart aches at the sight of the tears, you wrap your hands around his waist hoping you’ll bring him some comfort.

“I love him, Trev, really do. He’s the only guy who doesn’t see me as thrash after he gets to know what happened to me.” You whisper leaning your chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“I just don't want him to hurt you,” he whispers back leaning his forehead against yours. “I won’t forgive myself, if something happened to you again.”

“He won’t, Trevor. You know he won’t hurt me. In any way, he’s nothing like Jos-”

“Don’t talk about that shit.” he inhaled sharply.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“‘S okay,” he sighs kissing your head. “Hughes!” he calls for Quinn, who’s at your side in a few seconds.

“If you hurt her, I swear I’ll cut your dick and show it deep down your ass.” he threatens him with a serious expression.

You’re about to scold him, but Quinn outrun you.

“I won’t. I love her, Trevor.” Quinn says in a serious tone. Trevor stays silent for a while before he pulls Quinn in a hug.

Well, maybe the night in the bar wasn’t a disaster after all.