#most of the times it feels like they just want attention. ANY kind of attention. good or bad. and im not gonna give it to them

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part12

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: time jump, anxiety(?)

EXTRA -`✮´- JJ’s and Reader’s lock screen.

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Twelve Month Old.

Life moved fast. There was no denying it. 

Everything happened in such a whirlwind that before you knew it, an entire year had slipped by. A whole journey you had managed to navigate, though, of course, not without JJ’s irreplaceable help. 

The kitchen hummed with a peaceful kind of chaos, the sweet scent of strawberries mingling in the air. You stood at the counter, focused on decorating the cake while half your attention was tuned to the laughter drifting in from the living room. Small giggles, paired with JJ’s playful chuckles, echoed through the walls of your little home. 

As you carefully placed sliced strawberries atop the creamy frosting, you glanced toward the living room. Your little girl sat in the corner, clutching her stuffed teddy with delighted excitement. Across from her, on his knees, was JJ, pulling the silliest faces imaginable to keep her entertained. Her infectious laughter seemed to chase away every ounce of exhaustion you felt. 

For a moment, a warm wave of contentment washed over you. Sometimes, amidst all the chaos, it was these simple moments that made life truly worth it. Still, you forced yourself to focus. As much as you wanted to join them, you had a cake to finish—and today had to be perfect. 

As you piped the homemade frosting onto the cake, you listened closely to the sounds from the other room. JJ’s low murmurs, the pitter-patter of tiny feet, and your daughter’s joyous squeals filled the house. 

Even without seeing them, you could picture it all in your mind. A soft smile spread across your face as you worked on the cake for her first birthday celebration. Tomorrow, she would officially turn one. An entire year. 

How had you made it to this point? Time had flown so fast you never even had the chance to ask, “What’s happening right now?” Everything had raced by, and now, here you were—your daughter, a whole year old. Twelve months gone in the blink of an eye. 

The party wouldn’t be big. Just a simple setup on the back porch with a decorated table. Your parents would come, along with JJ’s friends and maybe a couple of neighbors. Mostly, it would be Liliana’s playmates from the park. That was all. 

Even though she wouldn’t remember it, you wanted her to smile when she looked back at the photos one day. You wanted her to feel a sense of peace, a happiness unclouded by memories of the separation her parents had gone through. 

In fact, you hoped those memories wouldn’t even cross her mind. 

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. You set down the piping bag and turned to see JJ walking toward you, your daughter balanced in his arms. A wide grin spread across your face. 

“She’s all worn out from playing too much,” JJ said, his smile as easy as ever. He started tickling her with his free hand, and the kitchen filled with her bright laughter. Just hearing it warmed you from the inside out. 

“Oh, is that so?” you teased. Anytime they played too hard, Liliana seemed to go straight into what you called “hibernation mode.” She’d be asleep in minutes. Classic JJ effect. Joining in, you reached over to tickle her too, but you both stopped after a moment, not wanting to tire her out any further. She was already sleepy enough. 

You stepped back slightly as JJ leaned in to check on the cake over your shoulder. His hand hovered dangerously close to the frosting, ready to sneak a taste, but when he caught your raised brow, he quickly withdrew. 

“Almost done, huh?” he said, his eyes still locked on the cake like it was a masterpiece—or maybe just his next meal. 

You nodded, glancing back at your work. “Isn’t that right, Liliana? Look what Mommy made!” 

JJ pointed to the cake as Liliana let out a tiny laugh, reaching her hands toward you. Without hesitation, you scooped her up into your arms. 

“Yeah, do you like it, sweetheart?” you cooed, giving her a gentle sway. Her head lolled onto your shoulder, and you and JJ couldn’t help but chuckle. Her sleepy demeanor was always the sweetest thing. She wasn’t an overly hyper child, but when she was tired, she turned into the most docile little angel. 

“You really wore her out,” you murmured, stroking her messy hair with a fond smile. It was far from the neat ponytails you had done that morning—proof of how much fun she’d had with JJ. 

“That’s my specialty,” he said proudly, tapping Liliana’s chubby cheek with a grin. He lifted her tiny hand and planted a series of dramatic kisses on it. “Swear she’s about to knock out,” he added with a lopsided smile. 

You lifted Liliana and pressed a kiss to her plump cheek, unable to stop the warmth that filled your heart. This past year had been the best of your life. Every moment with her had been worth everything. 

The first few weeks had been tough—what new mother didn’t struggle? But you were endlessly grateful for the people who had stayed by your side, supporting you every step of the way. Your parents had stayed with you, helping whenever they could. And then there were Cleo and Sarah—both absolute sweethearts who never hesitated to lend a hand. 

Thinking back to the times when it was just the four of you always brought a smile to your face. And Sarah, oh Sarah. Her relentless efforts to declare herself “Aunt Sarah” to the world were both endearing and hilarious. If you’d let her, she probably would’ve gotten it printed on a banner. 

And then there was JJ. You didn’t even hesitate to call him Liliana’s uncle. Because he truly was. He stood behind you like a fortress, always keeping you steady. Whenever you felt overwhelmed or doubted yourself, he was the one who wouldn’t let you fall. In the early months of your pregnancy, you had stumbled more times than you cared to admit, but once JJ became a permanent fixture in your life, that never happened again. He simply wouldn’t let it. 

Of course, there had been challenges. But his unwavering support had made it all worthwhile. 

Liliana’s tiny hands brushing against your face made you laugh softly. You kissed her little fingers and smiled. “If you can keep her entertained for just a little longer, I’ll finish up the cake and then put her down for a nap. Sound good?” 

You glanced up at JJ as you spoke. He was leaning casually against the counter, one arm propped up while his free hand snagged a strawberry from the cutting board. Popping it into his mouth, he shrugged, barely pausing to enjoy the taste before muttering something nonsensical to Liliana, who giggled in reply. 

JJ licked his fingers clean and reached toward you to take Liliana. “You know, I could do it,” he said with a mock-seriousness as he adjusted her securely against his hip. You watched as Liliana instantly settled, her little head coming to rest against his chest. The sight of the two of them like that filled your heart with warmth. 

“I know,” you replied with a nod. But JJ didn’t look entirely convinced. His uncertain gaze lingered on you, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. You knew he had a full plate—work often wore him out, and some days it was a struggle for him to even take time off. Yet no matter how tired he was, whenever you needed help with Liliana or anything around the house, he never hesitated. 

Even so, you didn’t want to burden him more than necessary. Besides, it wasn’t a difficult task. Liliana was a calm child, and with her nap time fast approaching, she was already on the brink of sleep. JJ had clearly tired her out with all their playing. You were confident she’d drift off quickly. 

JJ opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get the words out, a small, unmistakable sound broke through the air. 

“Ma-ma.” 

You froze. Completely, utterly froze. The kitchen fell silent, as if the whole world had paused with you. The strawberry JJ had been reaching for slipped from his hand and landed on the counter. His wide eyes darted to Liliana. 

“What… What did she just say?” he whispered, his voice a mix of shock and awe. 

Liliana, grinning ear to ear, pushed herself against him, her small face glowing with excitement. Before you could even process what was happening, she let out a gleeful laugh and bounced in his arms, nearly losing her balance in her excitement. Her tiny pigtails bobbed as she steadied herself. 

This time, more clearly, she said it again, with determination. “Ma-ma.” 

Tears filled your eyes. Your heart swelled in your chest, beating so hard it felt like a tidal wave crashing against your ribs. You took a step closer to JJ, your hand reaching out to gently stroke Liliana’s cheek. “She can’t possibly be saying that,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. You wanted to scream with joy, but you held it in. You didn’t want to startle her. 

JJ, still holding her, looked down at her with a mixture of astonishment and a soft, almost reverent smile. “We’ve been waiting for her to talk, but… Oh God,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. 

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been sneakily repeating “Ma-Ma” in her presence, hoping to nudge her toward saying it. 

You leaned in, kissing Liliana’s rosy cheeks, your heart overflowing with joy. If only you could’ve captured the moment on video. 

JJ, who had been relatively quiet in the background, finally spoke, his tone tinged with playful sarcasm. “So… do you love me as much as her now? Or am I still in trouble for that time I ruined the cake?” 

“What cake? What are you—” You whipped around to check the cake. Sure enough, one side of it had collapsed, the frosting smudged into an unsalvageable mess. 

JJ winced, offering a sheepish smile. “We can, uh, get a new one, right?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite yourself. There, surrounded by the warm scents of strawberries and frosting, your little family shared a moment that felt timeless. For just a while, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only love, laughter, and the perfectly imperfect chaos of this life you were building together. 

One Year Old

The living room echoed with Liliana’s joyful laughter. The little girl stretched out her arms, wobbling on her tiny feet as she worked hard to find her balance. Amid the colorful plush toys scattered on the floor, she seemed to grasp an essential truth: falling wasn’t as important as learning to get back up. With every step, her small feet trembled, sometimes tipping her forward precariously. But she was persistent. Even when she toppled over, she would immediately try again. 

JJ sat on the edge of the couch, watching her with a proud grin. Setting his coffee mug aside, he leaned forward slightly and called out, “Liliana, careful now. Let’s not bump into the coffee table, alright?” 

At that exact moment, Liliana stumbled again and plopped onto the floor with a soft “Oops!” Her wide eyes turned to JJ, as if asking, What just happened?

JJ was at her side in an instant, crouching down and holding out his hands. “Look here, young lady. Even when we fall, we get right back up, don’t we? Like a true Pogue.” His voice carried a playful warmth as he smiled at her. 

Liliana babbled in response, her tiny, nonsensical sounds making JJ chuckle. She placed her little hands in his, using his support to stand up again. JJ nodded dramatically. “That’s my girl! Now, let’s try it again, sweetheart.” 

Determined, Liliana let go of JJ’s hands, took a few wobbly steps, and fell once more. But this time, her giggle rang out louder than ever. JJ joined her laughter as you sat on the floor nearby, coffee mug in hand, watching the scene unfold. Their shared joy and Liliana’s little triumphs momentarily swept you away into a bittersweet reverie. 

You couldn’t help but think about everything that had been and everything that could’ve been. 

As you watched JJ hold Liliana’s hands and help her stand again, a faint melancholy crept into your heart. Her smile warmed you, but your thoughts wandered far from the present. 

The turbulent times with Rafe felt like a wound tucked into the corner of your mind. The fear, uncertainty, and rejection you’d faced while carrying Liliana lingered, even as your life now brimmed with happiness. Liliana was growing up so fast. She was already halfway through her first year. And one day, the inevitable question would come: Where’s my dad?

The thought sent a pang through your chest. What would you tell her? The idea of saying Rafe’s name out loud made your stomach twist. But was it right to hide the truth? 

Your eyes shifted to JJ, who was now walking hand in hand with Liliana, her little giggles filling the room. JJ raised his arms in mock triumph, shouting, “Pogue for life!” 

You rolled your eyes at his antics but couldn’t suppress a smile. JJ had his way of turning any moment into something fun, and you let him. This was their time, a little world just for the two of them to share. 

Still, you couldn’t ignore the impact JJ had on Liliana’s life. He wasn’t just a friend or a fun uncle—he was a loving guide. But would that be enough? Would his presence fill the gap in Liliana’s heart when the questions came? 

Or worse—would she misinterpret his role in her life? Would she see him not as an uncle figure, but as a father? 

Someday, Liliana would see other kids with their parents. She would want to compare, to understand. When she noticed the difference—that she didn’t have a mom and dad like the others—what would she feel? Would she long for something you couldn’t give her? 

As Liliana’s laughter mingled with JJ’s playful banter, your thoughts continued to churn. But amidst the worry, one thing was clear: you would do everything in your power to be there for her. And so would JJ. Of that, you had no doubt. 

“Hey, you good?” JJ’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. 

You looked up to see him guiding Liliana as she toddled toward you, her tiny hands gripping his fingers tightly. A smile crept onto your face despite yourself. 

“Come to Mommy,” you encouraged Liliana softly, your voice light with laughter. She babbled something in return, her tone cheerful as ever. 

JJ winked at you, clearly proud of their progress. “Little Pogues never give up, you know,” he said, lifting Liliana slightly and twirling her in the air. 

In that moment, the dark cloud of your worries lifted, if only briefly. JJ’s boundless energy and Liliana’s infectious joy silenced the unease in your heart. Her delighted giggle as she clapped her tiny hands filled the room with warmth, and you couldn’t help but join in the laughter. 

These moments, you realized, were precious beyond measure. The future remained uncertain, but this—this love, this warmth—was everything. And for now, that was enough. 

Three Years Old

The backyard glowed softly in the warm light of a summer evening. The table had been beautifully set, laden with delicious dishes that made the scene feel like a small celebration. Over in the corner of the yard, Liliana was busy playing with little flowers. She gathered daisies into her tiny hands, attempting to craft a small bouquet while occasionally pausing to marvel at the bugs crawling nearby. 

For her, bugs were still a fascinating mystery. 

JJ stood in the middle of the yard, holding a bottle of lemonade, shaking it lightly as he exclaimed, “Wait a minute, hold on! You’re telling me this now? You—my childhood best friend—are actually planning to get married? Like, for real? This is happening?” 

Pope, his hands casually tucked in his pockets, smiled with quiet confidence. “I mean… yeah. The time just felt right. Who here didn’t see this coming?” He glanced around at the three of you, and you shrugged in response. 

You honestly weren’t surprised. Cleo and Pope had practically been living like a married couple for ages. Sharing a house, sharing a life—the only thing missing had been rings on their fingers. And now, even that seemed to be taken care of. 

Turning to Cleo, who stood beside you with an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes, you reached out and clasped her hands. Rising from your seat, you pulled her into a tight hug. “Congratulations, babe. But let’s be real—I knew this was only a matter of time.” 

Cleo laughed, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. You adored her, truly. As you pulled back, she smoothed her hair with a smile. “Thank you,” she murmured, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “Honestly, if he hadn’t proposed soon, he was about to start sleeping on the couch.” 

Both of you laughed, returning to your seats as JJ continued to hold court in the middle of the yard. He’d definitely had a bit to drink—not enough to be drunk, of course, especially not with Liliana around—but just enough to be fully basking in the moment. 

JJ flopped backward dramatically, as if falling into an invisible chair. For a split second, you almost reached out to catch him. “No, no, this has to be a joke,” he said, pointing at Cleo with exaggerated suspicion. “Because the Pope I know? He doesn’t do serious. And now we’re talking about marriage? Cleo, are you sure?” 

Without missing a beat, Cleo smacked him lightly on the head, earning an exaggerated yelp from JJ. 

“Hey! That hurt!” he protested, rubbing the spot dramatically. 

“Good,” Cleo shot back. “Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you.” 

JJ raised an eyebrow at her, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, is that what you think?” he teased, leaning closer to you for backup, clearly trying to rile you up too. 

Without hesitation, you pushed his face away with your hand, rolling your eyes as you grabbed a dessert from the table. A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. JJ, ever the entertainer, turned his attention back to Cleo, who was now watching the two of you with a look that was… curious. Maybe even amused. 

You caught the glance and quickly shifted your focus elsewhere, pretending not to notice. Your eyes landed on Liliana, who was still engrossed in her flower-gathering mission. Now, though, you realized she’d made more than one bouquet—the two little bundles of daisies on the ground made your heart swell with pride. 

Meanwhile, Cleo crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at JJ. Her gaze darted between the two of you. “Look at this,” she said, her tone teasing. “Pope might actually be the most mature one here tonight.” 

“Wow, okay,” JJ said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll give you that, Cleo. But I’ve gotta say—you’re a saint for putting up with him. Marrying Pope? That’s a big commitment,” he joked, grinning. 

Cleo tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, no doubt about it,” she replied, nodding as if in agreement. 

You laughed at their banter, thinking how these friends, once JJ’s alone, now felt like your family too. Thanks to him, yes, but still—there was no denying how much you adored them. 

The cheerful mood seemed to envelop everyone. Even Liliana, who had been absorbed in her flowers, perked up at the sound of JJ’s laughter. She toddled over to the group, holding out one of her bouquets to Pope. “This is for you,” she said, her tiny voice filled with pride. 

Pope crouched down, taking the bouquet with wide eyes. “Wow, thank you, little lady,” he said warmly. It was one of those heart-melting moments that left everyone smiling. 

She went on to distribute her bouquets to the rest of you, looking so proud of her work. 

Then, tugging at JJ’s pant leg, she said, “The flowers we saw the other day aren’t here.” She was referring to the pink flowers you’d noticed on a walk. JJ scooped her up with ease, lifting her high into the air. “How about tomorrow, we go find some of those for you, Lily?” he said, grinning as her face lit up with joy. He followed up with a series of playful kisses, her laughter ringing out like music. 

For a few minutes, the evening revolved entirely around her. But as the hour grew later, it became clear it was time to start wrapping things up. While Pope and JJ entertained Liliana with a game of make-believe involving her dolls, Cleo jumped in to help you clear the table. 

Missing an opportunity to spend a moment with her? Never. 

“She’s such a sweet kid,” Cleo said, her tone warm as she started washing the dishes. 

You smiled, nodding as you packed leftovers into containers. “Thank you. She adores you, by the way. Honestly, I think she’s smitten.” 

Cleo’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Well, the feeling’s mutual,” she said, her voice soft. It was a small moment, but it spoke volumes, the kind of quiet connection that reminded you just how lucky you were to have her—and everyone else—here.

“Not like his father—thank God for that.” You couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t a particularly joyful smile, but the fact that Liliana didn’t resemble him in any way brought you some comfort. You didn’t know much about him anymore, not really. But the thought of even a part of your daughter resembling Rafe was enough to make your chest tighten.

“How’s he doing?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You hadn’t meant to ask. It wasn’t that you cared—it was just… curiosity. You wondered how he was holding up, what kind of life he was leading. 

Still, it felt like a ridiculous question. You were about to tell Cleo to just forget it. 

“Same as always,” she muttered nonchalantly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She seemed to understand why you’d asked, even though you hadn’t explained. “We all grew up. Everyone’s got their thing going on now. I don’t even know if most people still bother showing up to parties. He’s running his dad’s business now. I barely see him.”

You didn’t know how to feel. As you packed leftovers into a container, you took a deep breath. What had you even expected to hear? At least he had finally gotten what he wanted.

He was happy, and you were too. Apart, but still happy. In the end, that was all that mattered. 

Whether he still harbored anything for you, you couldn’t say. Your feelings for him felt… dulled, as if they’d been packed away and forgotten. Since Liliana had become the center of your universe, things like dating or romance didn’t even register. And you didn’t miss them. Liliana was still young; she needed you.

Maybe that’s why any notion of love, of attraction, felt so foreign now. 

“This is normal, love. Whatever it is you’re feeling—it’s normal.” Cleo’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned toward her, realizing you’d been staring blankly at the container in your hands. You blinked a few times, grounding yourself. 

Of course it was normal. 

You pushed your hair back and gave Cleo a nod of agreement as you snapped the lid onto the container and placed it in the fridge. When you turned back around, Cleo was suddenly closer. 

“You know,” she started, her tone shifting to something more teasing, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen JJ like this. He’s really changed. The difference between him back then and now? Night and day.” 

You were confused by the abrupt topic change, but you didn’t comment. Instead, your gaze drifted toward the backyard. Through the glass doors, you could see Pope, JJ, and Liliana playing together. 

“He’s good for you two, just like you’re good for him.” Cleo’s voice was softer now, almost like she was trying to coax a reaction out of you.

Your eyes lingered on JJ, watching him scoop Liliana into his arms and pepper her head with kisses. One of his hands was always hovering protectively near her, ready to catch her if she stumbled. A small smile crept onto your lips.

“Is it just me, or is there… something going on?” Cleo’s sly tone snapped your attention back to her so quickly, you almost got whiplash. Her expression was amused, her brow arched, and that same unreadable look was back in her eyes.

“What? Something going on?” Your voice was a mix of disbelief and nervous laughter. 

Cleo stepped back with a shrug, her lips pursed in mock innocence. Meanwhile, your eyebrows shot higher with every second. 

“I’m just saying!” she exclaimed, raising her hands as if she were completely innocent. The smile tugging at her lips told a different story, though. “A girl’s gotta point out what she sees.” She leaned casually against the counter, her eyes fixed on you with way too much amusement. 

“Especially when there are two people too blind to see it themselves.” Her tone was light, teasing, but the implication hit you like a ton of bricks. 

Your jaw dropped. “What? No—no, no.” You shook your head, the words spilling out before you even knew what you were saying. “That’s not… Cleo, come on.” 

She laughed, the sound echoing through the kitchen. You stepped closer, almost desperate to make her stop. “Cleo, no. Just—no.”

The idea made you feel strangely unsettled. JJ? You and JJ? That was absurd. You were friends, and that was it. You’d always been friends, nothing more. 

Cleo grabbed a dirty plate and turned toward the sink, seemingly unbothered by your protests. You leaned against the counter, trying to find the words to convince her. 

“We’re friends,” you said, your voice firm but a little too quick. “That’s all. For three—no, almost four years—we’ve lived together. That’s it. JJ and I are just friends.”

Cleo turned her head sharply, and for a second, her movement startled you into taking a step back. Her eyebrow arched higher, almost disappearing into her hairline. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Cleo’s knowing gaze held you in place like a spotlight. 

JJ and you were friends. Always had been, always would be. The thought of anything else—it felt… wrong. Like it would betray everything you’d built together over the years. 

Cleo’s smirk only widened as she watched you flounder. “I—” you started, but nothing else came out.

The sound of the door opening made you jump. Your eyes darted toward it, and there they were—JJ, holding Liliana’s hand. For a split second, you felt like a teenager caught doing something wrong by their parents. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Cleo’s amused smile. You ignored it. 

“She said she had to pee,” JJ explained, nudging Liliana gently forward. You quickly stepped toward your daughter. 

“Yes,” Liliana confirmed, clutching her doll in one hand. “I have to pee.” 

“I’ll handle it,” you said, smiling at JJ. But when his gaze met yours, you suddenly felt... weird. Cleo’s earlier comments were still fresh in your mind, and now, any interaction between you and JJ felt like it carried a weight it hadn’t before. 

“I can take care of it—it’s no big deal,” JJ said with a casual shrug. He glanced down at Liliana, then placed his free hand lightly on your back. That simple gesture, one that had never bothered you before, now felt oddly charged. 

You hated it. 

This had never felt strange before. Nothing had changed—except Cleo’s remarks, which had now lodged themselves in your brain. Thanks a lot, Cleo. Really. 

“No, no. I’ve got it,” you said a bit too quickly. You saw JJ about to insist again, but you bent down and scooped Liliana into your arms before he could say anything more. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

Even his presence now made you uncomfortable—not because of anything he was doing, but because your mind kept wandering into territory it had no business being in. 

You and JJ were friends. Just friends. Imagining him kissing you, or holding you in a way that felt too intimate, felt like a betrayal of that friendship. And you were sure of that. 

“She’s got it, JJ,” Cleo’s sly tone cut in, and you took the opportunity to bolt with Liliana. You just needed a minute. Some space to clear your head. Surely, if you could shake off these ridiculous thoughts, everything would go back to normal. 

“Go grab Pope and get in here,” Cleo called out behind you. “My back’s killing me. Your turn.” 

Thanks a lot, Cleo. Really.

Three Year Old

The living room was dimly lit, a soft glow creating a calm atmosphere. You’d seized the opportunity of Liliana sleeping to make yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Meanwhile, JJ was pacing the room nervously, shoving his hands in and out of his pockets. He wore a pair of jeans and a simple shirt, but it was clear he wasn’t comfortable. 

JJ adjusted his shirt collar, his chest rising and falling like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Do I really need to do this? he wondered. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go on this date; it was more like he was searching for an excuse not to. A noise from behind snapped him out of his thoughts. 

You peeked out from the kitchen with a smile, setting your cup on the table. “JJ, relax. It’s just a date, not a job interview.” His stress was written all over his face. 

It’s just a date. It isn’t like he’ll marrying the girl tonight. 

JJ stopped in his tracks, frowning. One hand reached up to rub his chin as if he was still weighing his options. Honestly, he looked ready to ditch his outfit, pull on something comfortable, and settle in for a movie night at home. He just needed one signal, one sign to justify staying—and he would. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “This feels stupid. I mean… it’s something a coworker set up. I don’t even know the woman.” 

You leaned casually against the edge of the table, shrugging. This wasn’t the end of the world. He’d go, spend a couple of hours out, and if he liked her? Great. If not? He’d move on. It wasn’t like you were going to stop him. What were you supposed to say, anyway? Hey JJ, I don’t go on dates, so you shouldn’t either?

Ridiculous.

You had your reasons. Expecting him to share them was absurd. It’s not like you two had ever talked about dating or relationships. Not seriously, anyway. Although, you were pretty sure he’d had his fair share of one-night stands. You weren’t naive; the nights he came home late and went straight for the shower said enough. But what could you do? Judge him for it? He was in his mid-twenties, for God’s sake.

It wasn’t your business. If he needed that, he needed it. Just because you didn’t do it didn’t mean he shouldn’t. Especially when you two were… nothing. 

Damn it, Cleo. You wouldn’t normally spiral into these thoughts. 

By “normally,” you meant before that night Cleo talked to you. Before then, these kinds of thoughts were off-limits, a red line you didn’t cross. Now here you were, dissecting JJ’s sex life. 

Of course, he could do whatever he wanted. Why wouldn’t he? 

It’s not like he needed your permission. 

Not that you didn’t have your own needs. But after years of going without, you weren’t exactly itching to jump into something casual. You didn’t want to leave your house, leave your daughter, and come back having spent the night with someone who didn’t mean anything to you. 

Maybe someday, when Liliana was older—maybe you’d be ready then. But not now. Not while she was just three years old. 

JJ’s nervous pacing snapped you out of your thoughts, and you cleared your throat. These ridiculous ideas running through your head were driving you crazy. He just needed to leave already so you could look at him like a friend again. “And that’s exactly why you should go. Who knows? You might actually have a good time. And at the very worst,” you said, pausing for dramatic effect, “you call me, and I’ll come rescue you.” 

JJ laughed a little, his shoulders relaxing. “You’re a real hero,” he replied with a smirk, running a hand through his hair. He licked his lips thoughtfully before glancing at you again. “But if I do call you, will you actually come?” 

You rolled your eyes. Was he seriously asking? “Of course I would. But not without letting you suffer a little first,” you teased. In reality, you’d hop in your car without a second thought—even though he had a car—and you’d go full drama mode if needed. Just for your friend. Yes, friend.

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “If it comes to that, I’ll call. Promise.” He wandered around the room, checking to make sure he had everything. But as you watched him, something about it made you feel off. The idea of JJ going on a date with someone else felt… unsettling. You’d spent years side by side, and he’d never really left your orbit. Still, you were happy for him. 

At least, you thought you were. 

When he leaned down to kiss the top of your head before heading out, your eyes instinctively closed. He did it so casually, like it was nothing. But you couldn’t stop yourself from reading into it. Again. Thanks a lot, Cleo. 

A few minutes later, JJ was out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. And oh, how you hated being alone with them. Your mind always found the most nonsensical things to obsess over. JJ was a welcome distraction, and now that he was gone, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

Because thinking made everything feel… weird. 

Even though he has his own house, even though he paid the rent every month, he practically lived at your place. You had suggested it, and you didn’t regret it or find it awkward at all. But now, after Cleo’s comments, everything felt… suffocating. Like you were looking at your dynamic through a distorted lens. 

Your eyes drifted to the clock, the hands moving painfully slow. How much time had passed? You couldn’t tell. Your hands tightened around your coffee mug without you realizing it. You hated thinking. You didn’t want to think. You wished Liliana would wake up early, even if it wasn’t time yet. Anything to distract you. 

Who’s he meeting? What’s she like? The questions popped into your head unbidden, and you immediately despised them. Why do I care? you thought bitterly, shrugging to yourself. “What does it even matter?” you muttered under your breath. But the curiosity inside you wasn’t so easily silenced. 

When your coffee ran out, you didn’t hesitate to pour another cup. Maybe you needed some fresh air or something. These thoughts swirling around in your head were absurd, and you knew it. You blamed it on the lingering toxicity of Cleo’s words from months ago. Ever since that conversation, it felt like you’d been poisoned.

As the hours ticked by, the silence in the living room grew heavier. Every passing second transformed into an expectation—would JJ send a message? You kept your phone close, glancing at every notification with urgency. But there was nothing. 

You were ready, though—ready to rush out the door if JJ sent you a single text asking to be rescued. Or even, as he mentioned, if he called. 

At some point, you couldn’t take it anymore and went to the kitchen, fixing yourself a snack. You tried reading a few pages of a book, even made a couple of trips upstairs to check if Liliana was still asleep. But your mind kept drifting back to JJ and his date. For a fleeting moment, you thought, “Maybe it’s going badly.” That thought didn’t bring relief, though—it unsettled you. 

No, you’d be happier if things were going well. JJ’s happiness mattered. If he’d found someone who suited him, you’d convince him to pursue it. Maybe then, the tension between you could finally dissolve. But—then you wouldn’t see him as often. Neither you nor Liliana. Still, you knew his love for Liliana wouldn’t fade. 

As the night wore on, you kept yourself busy in the kitchen, but your eyes constantly flicked to your phone. No calls, no texts. You were dying to know how the date was going but fought hard to suppress that curiosity. Even after putting your phone on silent and leaving it on the table, you found yourself picking it up to check. 

Close to midnight, the front door creaked open. A few sounds of stumbling followed, grabbing your attention. JJ walked in, and it was immediately clear how much he’d had to drink. He was swaying slightly, the familiar exhaustion in his eyes telling you everything about his night. You were curled up on the couch, a book in hand, but as soon as you heard him, you looked up. 

It hadn’t gone terribly—that much you were sure of. He was drunk out of his mind and—he hadn’t called. At least his demeanor suggested nothing had happened between them—enough for you to focus on your own business. Still, you couldn’t help but note that if the roles were reversed and you’d hooked up with someone, you’d probably have stayed the night at their place. 

Crossing your arms, you watched as he wrestled with his shoes. “Well, since you made it home, I guess it wasn’t that bad,” you said, your tone laced with mockery to mask the mess of feelings churning inside. You hated yourself for saying it but couldn’t stop. 

JJ let out a laugh as he struggled with his shoes. “Actually… it was awful,” he slurred. You watched him stumble toward you, surprised by his response. You’d expected him to say it went well—but here was the truth. 

His eyes were red, and you couldn’t even guess how much he’d drunk. He dropped onto the couch beside you, head tilting back as he let out a long sigh. “She was sweet, but… I don’t know. Boring. And also…” He paused, his head lolling slightly to the side. His lips parted, and the smell of alcohol wafted over. “She wasn’t as beautiful as you.” 

Your mouth fell open in shock. You tried to form a response, but no words came out. JJ, meanwhile, seemed to be watching your every reaction, almost as if savoring it, his drunken gaze locked on you. Clearing your throat, you fought to dismiss his words. 

You were definitely going to kill Cleo.

Smiling, you raised an eyebrow and said, “Care to share the details?” in an overly casual tone. 

JJ leaned forward, reaching for the coffee table. When you realized he was going for your water glass, you handed it to him, watching to ensure he drank. “Rachel thought I was—married,” he said, breaking into a laugh before taking a long sip of water, as if he’d been parched all night. 

The words hit like a bombshell, and your eyebrows shot up as your eyes widened in disbelief. You hadn’t expected that. Now you were even more curious, but JJ’s water-drinking intermission couldn’t have come at a worse time. “Wait, what? She thought you were married? Why?” 

For a few seconds, you just stared at him, lost for words. JJ, now done with the water, clumsily placed the glass back on the table and pulled his phone out of his pocket with some difficulty. He held it out to you before slumping back into the couch. As the screen lit up, it became clear. His wallpaper was a photo of you and Liliana hugging. 

“She saw that and said something like, ‘You left your family to come here?’ Then she lost it.” He spoke nonchalantly, tossing his head back again. His eyes were nearly closed, his speech slurred to the point of incoherence. 

Pressing your lips together, you held back laughter. You wanted to say something, but no words came. JJ misinterpreted your silence, continuing, “Honestly… it doesn’t really matter. Because…” He paused again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not more important than this.” 

Following his gaze, you saw he was staring at the wallpaper on his phone. Your heart skipped a beat. JJ’s words were purely alcohol-induced—you were sure of it. Composing yourself quickly, you forced a small smile. “You’re going to have a killer headache tomorrow. Let’s get you to bed.” 

Helping him up, you steadied his swaying form. Even though he insisted on giving Liliana a goodnight kiss, you managed to convince him otherwise and ushered him to his room. 

Once he was in bed, you pulled the blanket over him and stood there for a moment, watching him. His face was peaceful, utterly vulnerable in sleep. In that moment, you felt like you understood him more than ever. 

With a head full of swirling thoughts, you quietly left the room, closing the door behind you. But you knew—you wouldn’t forget tonight anytime soon.

Four Year Old

Outer Banks was a tangled web of memories for you. Going back wasn’t just about revisiting a place; it was stepping into a time capsule, into a life filled with complicated, conflicting emotions. The last few years with JJ and Liliana had taught you that no matter how safe you felt in the present, leaving parts of yourself behind was never easy. Outer Banks was the epicenter of your past struggles, losses, and, oddly enough, some of your most beautiful memories. 

The morning Liliana excitedly babbled about the upcoming wedding, you found yourself waking up with those very thoughts swirling in your mind. JJ was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, laughing as he answered Liliana’s barrage of questions. To her, the idea of attending Pope and Cleo’s wedding was an adventure, something to look forward to. For you, it was harder to embrace. While you were happy for your friends, the thought of returning to Outer Banks weighed heavy on you. 

“Let’s think this through,” JJ said, leaning against the counter, his gaze steady as if he could see the unease written all over your face. “I know this is tough for you, but it’s just a few days. I promise we’ll come straight back after.” 

You tightened your grip on your coffee mug and looked at him. Of course, it would be easier for him—you knew that. But going back there with a child made everything feel different. People would do the math. When they asked Liliana’s age, the unspoken questions would surface. “Is it really that simple?” you asked quietly. “Just go, smile, and pretend the past doesn’t exist?” 

They’d ask about Liliana’s father. Not just to you—but to her, too. The funny thing was, JJ had taken on the father figure role in her life so seamlessly that you were terrified she might actually mention his name when people asked. 

And then there was Rafe. The idea of him seeing you and Liliana again filled you with dread. You’d never imagined taking Liliana to Outer Banks; it always felt like you’d stay away forever. But now, with Cleo’s wedding, there was no choice. You wanted to be there for your friends, of course—but the thought of it all was overwhelming. 

JJ’s eyes softened as he picked up on your worry. Shrugging, he stepped closer until he was right in front of you. When his hands wrapped gently around yours, your eyes met. His thumb brushed the back of your hand in soothing circles, his voice calm and steady. “It’s not easy, I know. But we’re not going back for the past. This is about the present—about today. And we’re going together. Liliana’s coming with us. I’ll be with you every second if you need me. You trust me, don’t you?” 

The answer was so obvious it wasn’t even a question. You trusted him with everything—your life, Liliana’s life. You knew he’d protect you both no matter what. Without hesitation, you nodded. “Of course.” The words tumbled out quickly, your voice firm, as if to erase any doubt. JJ’s smile lit up his face, warm and reassuring. 

Liliana’s little voice broke in suddenly. She was tugging on JJ’s pant leg, her wide eyes sparkling with excitement. You noticed the toy she’d dropped on the floor and made a mental note to toss it into the bag. “Can I catch the wedding bouquet?” she asked, her words adorably slurred. You had to resist the urge to scoop her up and smother her with kisses—she was too cute for her own good. 

You found yourself smiling despite everything. Liliana’s joy was infectious, but beneath your smile, the unease lingered. Outer Banks wasn’t just a place; it was a collection of moments—lived experiences, shattered dreams, and wounds that never fully healed. 

“You might be a little young for that, sweetheart,” JJ teased with a grin. He shifted, letting go of one of your hands to scoop Liliana up, settling her on his hip. You watched as he kissed her chubby cheek, the affection in the gesture tugging at your heart. 

JJ must have sensed your inner turmoil because his tone shifted, turning serious as he looked at you again. His hand still held yours. “You know I’m here, right?” 

Those words settled something in your mind, quieting the chaos if only for a moment. There was always a layer of sincerity beneath JJ’s laid-back demeanor—a steadfastness that revealed itself when it mattered most. He wasn’t as careless as he often made himself out to be, especially not when it came to you. 

[starfilmz]

close to you | rafe cameron

summary: you and rafe are together and no matter how long you two have been together, he still gets jealous. even if you’re admirers are 80% girls.

a/n: basically the jealousy trope but girls. bc i love girls :D

navigation

rafe cameron wasn’t the type to get jealous. at least, that’s what he told himself, day in and day out. but when it came to you—his girlfriend, the one person who had him wrapped around her finger—he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something every time a group of girls swarmed around you.

it was always the same. the way they’d giggle, whisper behind their hands, and act like they had some secret world he wasn’t a part of. he didn’t mind the guys; they were easy enough to brush off. a few sharp words and they’d back off, retreating into the background where they belonged. but the girls? it was different. they didn’t look at him like they were trying to size him up or steal him away. no, they acted like he wasn’t even there.

and that, to rafe, was a problem.

“you look good today, yn,” a girl would say as she sidled up beside you, eyes lingering just a little too long.

"thanks," you'd smile, not noticing the way rafe’s jaw clenched. you were always polite, always kind to everyone, but it did little to ease the tension in his chest.

he’d stand there, arms crossed, waiting for the moment to pass. but it never did.

“i can’t wait to see you at the next surf competition, yn! i’m sure you’ll crush it like always.” one of the girls would chirp, grinning like she had just made the most profound statement in the world.

rafe’s fingers dug into his palms as he glanced over at you, a possessive, yet proud look flashing across his face. he had to remind himself that it was because of you that all these girls were so…obsessed. you had that effect on people, on both guys and girls alike. it didn’t matter how many times he told himself he should be happy for you, that you deserved all this attention—there was still that sharp edge of irritation whenever you were in the spotlight.

“yeah, can’t wait to see you in action again,” another girl added, leaning in a little too close to you.

rafe resisted the urge to step in, though the thought of it brought an all-too-familiar feeling of frustration. you weren’t just his girlfriend—everyone knew that by now. yet somehow, you seemed to be this magnet for attention. people loved you. especially the girls.

but it wasn’t just the compliments or the giddy talk of your next competition that bothered him. it was the fact that these girls seemed to have no problem showing up at boneyard parties just to catch a glimpse of you.

“i heard yn's gonna be at the party tonight. i’m so excited!” one of them said to her friend, eyes practically sparkling. “i’ll be there early so i can get a good spot by the bonfire.”

rafe rolled his eyes, his hands curling into fists. you didn’t even notice them, didn’t care about any of this. you were just trying to enjoy yourself, trying to live your life, but it was like everyone wanted a piece of it. and most of all, they wanted a piece of you.

finally, rafe couldn’t hold it in any longer. as the girls continued to talk and laugh around you, he walked up, his presence undeniably commanding. he slid his arm around your waist, pulling you close, his face a study in controlled frustration.

“let’s go,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. the girls hesitated, looking from him to you with a mix of confusion and intrigue.

“rafe, don’t,” you whispered softly, reaching up to touch his arm, trying to calm him down.

he gave you a tight smile, but there was something unspoken in his eyes. his possessiveness wasn’t something he liked, but when it came to you, it was almost uncontrollable.

“i’ll catch you guys later,” he said, his tone colder than usual, and with that, he guided you away from the crowd.

as soon as you were out of earshot, you let out a soft laugh. “you’re a little dramatic, you know that?”

“i don’t like them around you,” he admitted, his voice low but serious. “it’s not like i think you’ll do anything, yn. but you’re mine. and i hate how they act like you’re some prize to be won.”

you raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “and i’m supposed to be okay with you making a scene every time some girl talks to me?”

“you’re my girl,” rafe repeated, his eyes narrowing with that familiar intensity. “why would i want anyone else thinking they can just get close?”

you shook your head, a playful smile curving your lips. “you know i don’t belong to anyone, rafe. but i’m with you. only with you.”

he snorted, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. “that’s not the point. the point is—i’m not sharing, not now, not ever.”

“we’ll see about that,” you teased, pushing his shoulder lightly as you continued to walk away from the crowds.

rafe couldn’t help but laugh, even though he was still a little irritated. at least, for now, you were his—walking beside him, oblivious to the crowd and the chaos you left in your wake. he could live with that, for now.

“just don’t let them get too close next time,” he grumbled, eyes scanning the horizon as if daring anyone to make another move.

you rolled your eyes, but there was something in your expression that softened. “okay, rafe. i’ll try. but i can’t promise anything.”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips said it all. for now, at least, he had you all to himself. and that, for him, was more than enough.

[tkwrites]

Soft Launch; Hard Launch - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: Though most of this is fluff, there is a really nasty comment left on a social media post and mentions of poor self body image.

Summary: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Word Count: 2,900

Comments: The idea of writing a 4+1 fic for my 500 mark has been rolling around my head for a while, so when I hit 500 followers about a week ago, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Many thanks to @aloragrace and @captainlexaproluvr for looking over this piece and calming my fears about doing new things. I’ve never written in this format before, but I quite like the way this turned out.  I’d love to know what you think!

I'm just bowled over and so excited! Thank you all so much. Knowing people enjoy my writing has been so fulfilling to me. I’ve wanted to write since I was about thirteen, but never had the guts to publish anything for people other than my friends to read. Now that I have and know that people like it, it feels a bit like I’m giving my little inner awkward teenager the best gift she could ever ask for. Thank you for your encouragement, kindness, and support! I can’t tell you how much it means to me.  

If you did enjoy this Snapshot, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot 

1.

The first time Quinn put Sarah on his social media was after they got home from the family reunion. The Monday after she left, he was looking back through his photos while he waited for her to get off work. He found one from their beach day he’d completely forgotten he’d taken. Sarah was kneeling over a tide pool with a few of his cousins, pointing to something in the water, while they looked into her face with rapt attention.

Even though her face was mostly hidden from view, she looked beautiful in that casual way he loved so much. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of denim shorts along with her orange swim top.

Do you mind if I put this on my stories? he asked later that night, once she'd texted that she’d arrived home safely and would call as soon as she changed.

“I don’t mind,” she told him after they said their initial hellos, caught up on each other's day, and he asked again. “I’m a little surprised this is the first photo you want to go with,” she admitted. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to go with something more…” she trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase what she was thinking. She’d only glanced at it, but from what she remembered, the photo wasn’t anything special. It was from the tide pools, and though it fulfilled the mission of showing her without showing her whole face, she didn’t look excessively beautiful or anything. In fact, the first thing she’d zeroed in on were her stomach rolls. Echoes of girls calling her too fat to be with NHL superstar Quinn Hughes rang in her mind. 

“I like it,” he defended before she could find the right words or slide down the slippery slope of body image woes. “You’re doing what you love.” 

It melted something in her that he looked at that photo and saw her passion. “That’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

“So it’s okay?” 

How could she say no now? “Yeah. It’s okay.”  She reminded herself she wouldn’t see any of the things people were saying about her unless she sought them out, which she had no intention of doing.

He put it up with nothing more than an orange heart in the corner as soon as they hung up from the FaceTime call.

Less than a minute later, Eunice raced into Sarah's room. She was so overly excited, she ran into the door jam, bouncing off of it before regaining her balance. She thrust her phone into Sarah's face. “Quinn put you on his stories!” 

Glancing at the screen, Sarah smiled. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could put that photo up.”

“Oh my god. This is so dreamy,” she gushed, turning the phone back around to look at the picture again. “You look so pretty.” 

2.

The second soft launch was on his main feed at the end of the summer, though he still didn’t show her face.

It wasn’t until they got home from Hawaii and all shared their photos that Quinn realized just how many pictures his mom had taken. He was used to her snapping pictures of them - it was a very common occurrence to look around at any given moment, especially on vacation, to find her brandishing a camera to document everything she could.

He’d never appreciated it more until he was looking through the shared album and saw all the moments his mom caught. There were photos of him and his brothers and him and Sarah once she got there. There was even a video of his and Luke’s shock at their girlfriends’ arrival.  

His favorite picture she took was from the beach outside of their vacation rental. Anxious for a quiet moment together, Sarah pulled him outside to watch the sun set.

The rest of the family was inside, debating something about dinner. They had been on a kayak and hiking tour that day, and he was so tired, he was beyond caring. As long as some kind of food was provided, he’d be fine.  

His mom must have walked out onto the back porch to snap the photo. 

 The sun, sinking into the ocean in front of them, turned them into shadow as Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the kind of photo people put in vacation advertisements, and when he’d seen it, he knew it had to be included in his end of summer review.

He uploaded it with a carousel of six other photos before captioning the post, One for the books. 

After receiving sixty notifications in the first five minutes, most of them from people he didn’t know asking who the girl in the 5th photo was, he muted the app.

It wasn’t until he looked at the comments that evening and saw, I think this must be that fat bitch he was dating during the season. I was hoping they’d broken up since he didn’t stay in Vancouver this summer and she did, that he disabled comments all together.

He’d been so angry that someone who didn’t know either of them would say anything like that, he had drafted a reply before realizing he was about to engage in a reactionary argument with someone he didn't even know or have any emotional ties to. He wanted to correct them, but knew he should really get PR help to do that. 

When they talked about social media for the first time in their relationship, Sarah explained how the comments from these so-called fans made her feel. Even though she knew they didn’t know her as a person and didn’t have any place in their relationship or lives, it was difficult not to let them get to her. 

He knew the feeling well. He’d gone through the same thing when he accepted the captaincy. The pressure to perform had been so immense, it had turned him into a snappy, short-fused, irritable person until, at the advice of some other captains in the league, he started putting his phone down regularly. 

3. 

The third came when it was his turn to sit for a 32 Thoughts podcast episode with Elliott and Kyle, and they were shooting the breeze before the actual interview began. 

“We missed you at dinner,” Elliott said, referencing a banquet that the league had hosted the night before for all players and press on site for the whirlwind pre-season media tour.

Without really thinking about it, Quinn found himself explaining, “my girlfriend's family lives here, so Jack and I had dinner with them last night.”

“She's not here?” Elliott asked. 

“No, she has stuff going on back home so she couldn't be, but it was nice to see them.” Some players brought family to the media tour, but not many. It was a short stint, shorter than most road trips during the season, so most didn’t bother.

Their producer, Shanna, flashed a red light, letting them know it was time to start the formal interview. Kyle counted down, “three two and one,” before introducing Quinn and starting with the questions. 

At the end of the recording, both Elliott and Shanna asked if he wanted them to cut his talk about his girlfriend and her family from the episode. Usually, they left those anecdotal conversations in, especially on the youtube videos, but this one was a bit more nuanced. 

“I think it should be fine, but can I talk to her about it and get back to you?” 

“Of course,” Shanna said, smiling. “It’s not slated to go up for a few weeks, so just let us know by the 17th.”

When he'd asked Sarah about it that night after arriving home, she seemed unconcerned. 

“I think that's kind of up to you.” She knew from their FaceTime conversation the night before that Quinn, Jack and their agent had eaten at Rachel's house, so there was no risk of someone posting photos and making the connection they were with her family.  

“I mean, people have been speculating you have a girlfriend, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” It was more than speculation at this point - most people knew he had someone. They just didn’t know who she was. 

“And people who found my instagram already know I’m from Nevada, so I don’t really see what the worry is.” 

He’d expected her to be more worried about it, but now that she was responding to him with cool logic, he had to admit she had a point. 

The next day, he messaged Elliott along with his agent to let them know they could keep the anecdote in the recording. 

When it hit the airwaves, Sarah purposefully didn’t check any of the messages Eunice sent her for a few days. Eunice had taken it upon herself, and continued at Sarah’s request, to report big gossip to her so Sarah wasn’t tempted to go on the blogs or fan accounts. 

Most responses were sort of victorious bragging, posting about connections with Sarah’s instagram “about me” section where she talked about being from Nevada, feeling that this interview proved them right. 

4. 

The fourth time wasn’t planned. 

When Quinn got home from their first regular season road trip, the apartment was dark. It was past two in the morning, and Sarah had a therapy appointment at eight, so she hadn't waited up for him. 

In his trek through the apartment, he paused by the dining room table. Until Sarah moved in, walking into the apartment after a road trip was often the worst part of the whole thing. He was always glad to be back in his own bed, but nothing seemed to exasperate his singleness more than coming home. Not only was he going from being surrounded by the team to being totally alone, he was coming home to an empty house. The combination of the two felt stiflingly lonely.

The mess of textbooks, highlighters, and notebooks left out on the dining room table was such proof of someone else living in the house, it made his chest feel full. 

In a spur of the moment act, he snapped a picture of the dimly lit chaos and posted it to his Instagram stories. No caption, no explanation. Just the simple proof that he wasn't alone.  

“Why did you put a picture of my books on your instagram?” she asked the next day after getting home from her appointment. 

He shrugged, “I liked it.”

The season before, anytime she would study at his house, she would clean everything up, organizing it all back into her bag before going home or coming to bed. 

Now, her books often stayed out on the dining room table on weekends. He offered to convert one of the spare bedrooms into an office for her, or let her use the office he had a computer in now, but she turned him down. 

“I like studying out here,” she'd said, glancing up to look out of the windows. “If it bothers you, I can put everything away.” 

“It doesn't bother me,” he'd said, leaning down to kiss her temple. “I just want you to be comfortable here.” 

She had beamed at him and turned her head to brush her mouth over his. 

5. 

Quinn waited until the one year anniversary of the day he and Sarah met to officially announce their relationship. 

He knew by that time that they could go the distance. He'd seen her through every month and every season and saw no major red flags. Not to mention the fact that everyone in his life liked her, and her family and friends seemed to like him.

Over the course of the year, he'd moved pictures he liked of Sarah and pictures he liked of them together into a favorites album he simply called S. So, in late January, he put together a post and sent it to his PR rep to look over. After they sent it back with some edits, he showed it to Sarah. 

Sarah, who for her part, knew this was coming but wasn’t quite sure what to expect, was taken a bit off guard. She knew Quinn read a lot and was thoughtful with his words, but reading his simple summary of their relationship made her melt. 

He’d included 5 pictures of her that were interspersed with 5 pictures of them together. The first photo was that perfect, golden hour sunset selfie. The rest were all photos she knew he loved. She’d seen some of them, and some of them, she hadn’t. There was a candid shot of her laughing with Jack and Luke that she hadn’t seen before as well as a picture she never knew he’d taken of her sitting at the dining room table with her laptop, looking pensively at the screen, fingers poised to type. There was the photo of them in front of their Christmas tree, and one of them laughing so hard, they were falling all over each other on a beach in Hawaii.

Under the photos, he’d simply written, The best year. and tagged her in the final photo - the dreamy picture Kaitlyn had taken of them under the mistletoe. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, looking up to find him smiling expectantly at her.

“You like it?” he asked. 

“I really like it,” she said, fighting back the tears that pushed at her eyes. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He was ready for the world to know that not only was he taken, he was taken with her, and not afraid to say it, but he knew it would likely open up another door of criticism she’d never been exposed to before. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.” 

The fact that Quinn wanted the world to know, without a doubt, that she was the one he was with made her heart race. 

They didn’t have to hide anymore. To her, it was the last, final cementing block in their relationship. It spoke of his faith in their future and his dedication to staying with her. He wouldn't put it out for the world to see if he had any doubts. 

He posted it right before practice two days later so he could work the anxiety of it off. 

When he got back to his locker an hour and a half later, he had 1,654 likes and over 200 comments. At first glance, they all seemed positive. Not that what random strangers thought of him meant much, but it was nice to know his fans were happy he was happy. 

Bonus scene: 

On the afternoon of the anniversary of their one year of meeting, Reece stopped Sarah as she walked into the building after work.

“I’ve got a delivery for you, Ms. Roberts,” he said, walking with her over to the security desk. 

Before he’d even picked them up, Sarah knew it must be the large bouquet of flowers that were an absolute riot of color - purple and yellow, red and pink, white and green. 

Quinn was out of town - playing in Toronto at that very moment, in fact - and she knew he must have sent them in place of being there in person. 

“Thank you, Reece,” she said, accepting the flowers and a card from him before heading upstairs. 

Trying to manage the vase, card, and her school bag, as well as press the button in the elevator, resulted in her accidentally slopping a large amount of water down her front. Thankfully, the large bouquet hid the spill from anyone else in the elevator, and she was the only one to get off on the top floor. Upon entering the apartment, she set the vase and card on the bar and went straight up to change. 

It wasn’t until she wandered down to make dinner during the second intermission and saw the bright flowers that she remembered the card. 

Her full name was on the envelope in someone else’s writing, and the front of the card was completely blank, so when she flipped it open, she was surprised to find Quinn’s handwriting filling most of it. 

It’s been one year since I took refuge in the aquarium, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman giving a talk about octopus and took the chance to ask her out. Back then, I just thought she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. Now I know that not only is she beautiful, she’s smart, kind, supportive and so driven she inspires me to do better. I don’t like to think what my life would be like if she’d turned down my offer for lunch, or I didn’t get up the guts to talk to her. This time with her has been a whirlwind and the best year of my life. 

I wrote this for the caption of the post that went up today, then realized the only person I really wanted to read it was you. 

Happy one year of meeting, Sarah. I’m so glad you took a chance and went out with me even though I was more than a little awkward. 

I love you. 

Love, 

Quinn 

Moved to tears by his thoughtful words, Sarah snapped a picture of the flowers to put up on her stories, adding the caption, Love you, @_quinnhughes, before texting him.

I love you. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Here’s to a million more.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 12

It’s been 800 years and I’m sorry 😭 now that we reached this point inspo has come and gone so fast. But I got this part done and the next one on Patreon now! I would love to hear thoughts and suggestions, I’ve already implemented some of what you guys have asked for in my planned parts 🩷 enjoy! And happy holidays

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WC- 6.6k

Warnings- mentions of a Dom/sub dynamic, anxiety mention, misogyny, we hate Danny club tee shirts being passed around, tooth rotting fluff, mentions of relationship trauma

Danny hadn’t always been a bad boyfriend. 

At first he had been kind and sweet. With him being a tad bit more outgoing than Y/N, he had brought her into his friend group and integrated her as one of them. He had brought her flowers for their 6 month anniversary, they went on dates on the weekends twice a month, and it was nice. Solid, steady. 

Until he got a little too comfortable. 

Y/N could see it now that she had removed her heart from the equation. Danny was lazy, and it had shown more and more as the year mark hit, and then two years, and she had to remind him of Valentine’s Day, make the birthday plans, schedule the dates, or go along with the plans he’d made with his friends. He would get her gifts on those occasions, yes, but the most stereotypical things. It had lacked thought. Flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day were nice! She didn’t want to come across as ungrateful ever- but when he’d gotten her dark chocolate when he should have known she really disliked it, it made it a little less sweet- pun intended. 

If someone were to ask Y/N why she stayed so long,  she wouldn’t have one singular answer. Comfort? Familiarity? Routine? Perhaps lack of self esteem? She wasn’t sure. Being raised to think you had a specific way of doing things, of dating, engagement, then marriage, she hadn’t really been given many other examples. Growing up, her parents had been high school sweethearts, as had both of their parents. There was no breaking up, it was a one and done type of deal. 

She wasn’t sure if that was set in stone, though. It was an unspoken rule, something left unsaid like a thinly veiled threat in the night air. They spoke of the great love story of finding your one and only and it made her feel like she had to stick to that too. She’d never asked her mother about it, because she never really entertained the idea of having any other partner. 

It was easy with Danny in the way that she knew what to expect. She knew his habits, she knew his work, his schedule. She knew his friends, his plans for life, there were no surprises. Nothing that would jump back out and bite her, catch her off guard as he slowly leaned into being less attentive.&

Maybe that’s why even when she started having doubts she had stuck them to the back of her mind. 

There was no denying that Harry had been a very, very big part in all of it. The funny part of it was, she wasn’t sure that the sex bit was what truly got her to reconsider even if it had started it all. As incredible, euphoric as she felt- it was the way she felt afterwards. Before, even. When they sat in his bed and he stroked her cheek, feeding her cubes of cantaloupe or strawberries sliced in half, or when he’d picked up a carton of her yogurt and granola after mentioning what she usually had for breakfast at home. 

It was how gentle he handled her not only physically, but emotionally. He checked in, he cared, he asked her multiple times what she liked and what she didn’t. If it was okay to touch her certain ways, if he could kiss her. Just little things that seemed so minuscule in size if you looked at it from the outside but felt so big to her that it tore at her heart. 

He’d gotten her that damn water bottle, he’d gotten used to washing her hair when they shared showered, he used that tender tone of voice that had her bones feeling flexible as she melded into him each and every time. 

And another thing she had found to like about Harry, was the fact that he was just… dominant in most regards.

It wasn’t overly so. He wasn’t this complete alpha, macho man, fists banging on the chest sort of guy. He didn’t walk into the room and demand to be the biggest and baddest in the room. It was understated, quiet. If you looked at him you could just… see. Feel it. You could see he held it together well, that he liked control in the way he kept things organized and held eye contact regardless of who it was. He very rarely shied away from a situation. In fact, Y/N felt very special for being one of the only people she had seen make him blush or get flustered. 

It was second nature to him to just do. To pick up where she left off. So it did make her wonder what else she could do for him. How she could help him relieve stress. Yes, there was the sexual aspect that she was more than willing to hand over whenever he wanted (no exaggeration- any time, any place) but she wanted to be the person he allowed himself to loosen up with. 

She’d seen glimpses. Silliness and joking, that sort of tenderness that he didn’t seem to give to anyone else, but she wanted to make his life easier. Researching the dynamics between dominants and submissives, she had some questions- but the first thing she needed to do was cut off the dead weight- the only thing holding them back. 

—-

Meeting at the park was a good idea. She could tell by his face that he had a clue what was going to happen and as much as she tried not to, she did feel a tiny sliver of guilt. 

Y/N didn’t necessarily cheat, no. She’d had full permission, ecstatic permission, actually. He’d handed her over to Harry. Being realistic she knew he didn’t realize it would be an option that he wouldn’t get her back. Danny was headstrong in a way she found a lot of men were. He didn’t consider the possibility that she actually did know what she wanted and once she had a taste, she would want that for herself all the time.

“You’re leaving me for him.”

“Not necessarily.” She sighed, crossing her arms around her body. “It isn’t just about him. It’s about the fact that we aren’t compatible anymore, and we haven’t been in a long time.”

Danny scoffed, tilting his head towards the sky. “So, what? I’m nice? I let you go and see and play around to explore that shit and now you’ve gotten addicted to that sort of stuff? We can get you to therapy, because it isn’t healthy. But obviously it was a mistake to hand you off to him-“

“Yes. If you loved me, if you truly wanted me, Daniel- you’d never, ever want someone else to touch me.” She remembered how Harry had said he didn’t want to share her. Look, sure. But never touch. “You said the shit I’m into is weird, you shame me, then pawn me off to your friend which… it’s dangerous. The both of us are lucky Harry is genuinely an amazing guy-“ she shot him a look as he let out a noise but continued anyways. “Harry is amazing and kept me safe. He taught me the safe ways of doing things. And I liked it. I’m not going to lie to you, I really liked all of it and I know you aren’t into it.” For once, her face softened.

“And you don’t have to be. I don’t judge you for not wanting to do it. I never have. I was upset by your reactions and how you made me feel bad, but I would never ask you to do something you truly aren’t comfortable with. But if this is something I want, something I find myself needing to be fulfilled, I’m not going to try to change you or myself to try and salvage a relationship that was barely working anyways.”

“Barely working?” Danny looked genuinely confused. “The fuck are you talking about.” Again, her anger bubbled under the surface, but the exhaustion of the whole thing kept her from exploding. 

“Danny, you barely gave me attention. When you apologized the first time and we went out to the bar, you brushed me off the whole time. You treated me like an accessory. There was no passion to our relationship.” Y/N wasn’t sure how he didn’t see that. “We had the same conversations every day, barely had any excitement. I don’t think you loved me- I think I was convenient. And I don’t hold that against you either, but I think I was convenient to you.”

“That’s just how relationships are! They even out and get a little boring.” He defended, nostrils flaring as he was obviously offended with her observation. She had a feeling he would get that way. It was just another reason why they needed to end things. 

“To a degree. After years of marriage and things settle down, your partner is supposed to become your best friend. And we barely speak to each other if it isn’t about plans, or something you want to. If I feel like talking about something I can physically see you tune me out. This was happening far before you even handed me off to Harry.”

“And he’s going to give you that?” He sneered, looking at her like she was some sort of idiot. It had been very clear since the beginning that Danny really did put people into boxes, and Harry was in the sexual deviant one. He had no ability to see the depth in people and that had always been something that bothered her about him, but seeing it now towards someone she was falling for made her angry. 

“I don’t know.” She snapped. “But regardless if it is him or not, you need to stop that. You just… you learn something about someone and you completely disregard them as people. You knew he was into some different stuff and all of a sudden he’s a whore, some kind of sexual deviant that can’t commit. He’s had partners, long term. He’s caring. He’s kind. He listens to what I have to say. It isn’t just sex every time I go over to his place, you understand that right?” 

He didn’t, obviously, but the way his brows pulled together and he looked at her like he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Did you expect him to string me up and hit me with a paddle a few times and me to run back to you?” She was positive that was the thought process as it was as soon as she saw the face he made. “We bond. We make breakfast or go out for it, we watch shows, we take his dog on a walk- the dynamic of this whole thing goes far past just sex, Danny. It’s trust. I know you did minimal research into what this actually is, but I’m telling you that we weren’t just going at it like bunnies. I’m not hypnotized by his dick. He’s so nice to me, and he listens, and he….” Y/N could feel herself getting emotional, so she had to reign it in. He didn’t need this sort of response from her. 

“Listen. I’m sorry. I know we had plans, but they’re not for me anymore. I have no idea if Harry wants to actually date me or not. I have no clue where my life is going, but I just don’t see us being together anymore.”

——

It was a bit anticlimactic. Danny couldn’t really argue with her, (even if he did try a few times). Not when it was so abundantly clear her mind was made up. It was over. Regardless of what he thought about Harry or her sexual preferences or anything she liked, it was her opinion that mattered. She’d been coasting for so long that she had forgotten how it felt to actually be behind the wheel. As terrifying as it was to navigate- it felt good. 

“A mixed box, please.” Y/N politely asked the worker at the donut shop, knowing Harry was a bit of a fiend for a donut with his coffee. “An extra chocolate though, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course! Half or whole dozen?” 

“Whole, please.” 

She checked her phone to see a text waiting from him, her mood lightening immediately as her eyes traced over the screen. 

H: You alright, sweetheart? Please text me when you’re on your way here x. 

H: p.s. I miss you a little. 

Her heart felt like it grew too big for her chest as she took a shaky inhale, thumbing over the keyboard to reply to the man. It had been ages since she had gotten giddy over a man texting her, Harry being the first one since she’d left school honestly. It wasn’t that she wanted to constantly compare her past relationship with him, but it was hard not to when everything felt so much better.

Y/N: hiiii ❤️ I’m good. I made a stop but as soon as I’m done here I’ll be on my way. Maybe 20? 

Y/N: p.s. I miss you a little bit too 

Tucking her phone back in her pocket, she thanked the girl and checked out at the register, tapping her card before taking the box and walking back out to her car. 

She was a single woman, now. Sort of? That was sort of a mystery. She was Harry’s. The fact was clear both in her heart and the bruises sucked over the swell of her breast, also coincidentally over her heart. The question laid in his hands, if they were an actual item or not. He’d proclaimed she was his what seemed to be a million times but how far did that go? 

It wasn’t like she was dumb- she knew there were feelings in both ends. Men didn’t act like that unless they were actually wanting you. She knew she wasn’t completely naive for feeling somewhat confident that Harry would want her, but it was the question of in what way. As a submissive? As a girlfriend? That question would be asked tonight, but right now she really just needed a hug. 

There was no need to knock anymore as she scales the porch steps and approached the door, instead punching in the code to his security system and pushing the door open. The clicking of nails alerted her to Buttons before she even saw the pup, eagerly running towards her with a happy yip. 

“Hello, my darling.” She cooed, hanging her purse up on the hook and toed her shoes off. “These are not for you, M’sorry. We can get you a treat though. Where’s daddy, hm?” 

“Kitchen!” He called through the house, making her smile widen. She could smell coffee, the dark roast permeating the air as she padded towards the room. It was one of the best times of day to be in the room, sunlight pouring through the wide windows. Even better to frame him as he leaned against the island, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. 

He was always beautiful, but seeing him in this light- literally and metaphorically- had her tummy swirling. His hair fluffy from the shower this morning and pushed off his head, the facial hair he had let grow because she said she liked it, the tee shirt tucked into linen pants, all of it was enticing. It felt more intense now that there was no real barrier holding her back from allowing her to think those sorts of things about him. 

“Excuse me, miss? What’s in that box?” His voice tilted as his smile grew, looking at the familiar pink box. 

“You know what’s in the box.” She hummed, placing it down next to him. “It’s where I stopped. I’m sorry to say I broke into them and ate a chocolate one on the drive here, but there’s 11 others in there for you to choose from.” 

“How will I ever forgive you.” His eyes rolled as he uncrossed his arms and pulled her into them, seeming to know what she needed before she could even utter a word about it. He knew what she went to do and while it was exciting, he knew she had been slightly anxious about the reaction. “You alright, darling? Seriously?” 

Y/N wasn’t sure if it was being in the safety of his arms and realizing that he was the only one she felt this safe with, if it was the slight exhaustion from not being able to sleep well, or the emotion of letting go of something that had once felt like her life, but she felt the wall hit her. Nodding into his chest, she stayed buried there as the tears bubbled over her lashline. 

“Oh, Angel. M’sorry. That’s a dumb question.”’he sighed, curling his hand around the back of her head and gently running his fingers through her hair. “I know. S’been a lot, the last few weeks. But you’re safe here, yeah? We don’t have to talk about it, or we can. It’s up to you.”

She knew he did want to. He wouldn’t press her because he was a good man and he was considerate of her feelings, but he wanted to know what happened and considering the entirety of this, she wanted to. It just… needed to be in a minute. Arms wrapped around his form as she took in unsteady breaths, trying to calm herself down. It was easier said than done when he felt like the lifeline now, but she didn’t want to cry over it. 

“We can.” She gave a watery laugh as she turned her cheek to rest on him, letting herself breathe properly instead of keeping herself shoved against his body. “I’m not upset because we broke up. I-I don’t really care about that, actually. I’m glad. He didn’t take it well but he also didn’t throw a tantrum. It just upset me because I was seeing him for one of the first times as who he was instead of m-making excuses and I felt a little dumb for staying for so long.” It was embarrassing.

Harry knew she wasn’t done so he didn’t interrupt, continuing the soothing strokes as she stayed leaning against him. “He puts people in boxes. Like he… he thought you were one dimensional and so was I. Thought that I didn’t actually know what I w-wanted, and that we were just fucking this whole time. Couldn’t believe that we were actually bonding and that you could possibly like me, or vice versa, outside a bedroom.” Her scoff made him chuckle just a bit, leaning his head down to kiss the top of hers, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. 

“And it really hit me how he couldn’t fathom that you have feelings that go past sexual deviancy or that I actually know what I want and I wasn’t just addicted to sex or something. Did you know he used to get me chocolates for Valentine’s Day but he’d get dark, and I hate dark chocolate.” She sniffled. “Or he’d make me plan stuff because I was ‘better’ at it. I just felt in charge of everything except plans with his friends, unless it had to do with getting a gift for a wedding or baby shower or birthday. Then I could handle it because… I don’t know. I was leading the whole thing and I wasn’t getting anything in return and I’m just now realizing how shitty I felt the whole time. I think I just coasted the whole time b-because my family did the whole high school or college sweetheart things and I felt like I needed to, too.”

It made a lot of sense to him, now, why she felt she needed this. The dynamic. Naturally submissive, he knew, but being forced to take the role that she didn’t want for the sake of a relationship she was trying to keep afloat merely because she felt a responsibility? His poor fucking girl. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I know it isn’t exactly the sort of thing you want to hear and it won’t make it better, but I’m sorry. It hurt you, it made you feel under appreciated and taken for granted. You didn’t deserve any of that.” 

It wouldn’t make a difference now but he wished he had met her first. Met her before Danny had gotten to her and been able to snatch her up, give her the sort of attention she properly needed, take care of her the way she had always been craving. For someone who didn’t naturally have that sort of instinct he had to imagine it was exhausting. Harry took pride in being the planner, the provider. He liked being in charge and knowing what was happening, making things easy and smooth. But for Y/N who already didn’t want to be doing it, he knew it had to have felt like she was trapped. 

“M’never going to make you do those things.” He murmured. “Not if you don’t want to. I don’t… it isn’t something that I’d ever want you to do if you didn’t want to. There is no right or wrong way to have a relationship, but the burden shouldn’t fall on only one person if they don’t want it to.” He smeared his lips in a ring of kisses around her hairline. “I know you don’t need me t’tell you that how you were treated wasn’t right, but I hope you know that you can tell me if you ever feel that way. If you… if you don’t want to do something, you don’t have to.” There was a pause. “When we’re not playing.” 

“I was gonna hold you to that.” She laughed against him, pulling her head back to look at him. “So, um.. I didn’t want to assume anything, but I’m gonna now and think that you want to.. that you like me enough to keep me around?”

Harry looked at her for a few moments before shutting his eyes, dropping his head to rest on hers. “If I hadn’t made it clear before, I think M’gonna make it even clearer now.” 

Y/N didn’t have a chance to breathe before he scooped her up to sit her in the counter, their lips fused together in a kiss she hadn’t fully felt before. Something he had held back, it lingered under it all as she easily melted into him.  It felt different, like a barrier had fallen off with the way he handled her. It was still delicate, still tender, but there was no hint of hesitancy in the way he led the kisses, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks as he cupped her face in those massive hands she loved so much. Unhurried, unrestrained but no sense of urgency. 

Like he knew now he didn’t have to rush, that he had more time to prove to her that he meant every unspoken word he poured into this. 

The slight salt of her tears reminded him to pull back, to pace himself. Oddly enough, he had no urge to have sex right now. Everything was soft. Silky. Lovelaced and sweet, hinted with the motivation to give her the relationship that she deserved. It meant he’d have to ask her what she would want, but right now he just wanted to bask in the feeling of her in his palms and the warm sun and sugary donuts in the box and the strong coffee finishing its brew across the kitchen. 

“Hi.” He smiled lightly as he pulled back, eyes hooded as he watched hers peel open to meet his own. Her lips were bare of anything but chapstick he had faint taste of- strawberry, he was positive of it- and slightly puffy from the kiss that had gone on for a bit longer than they should have been able to breathe. 

“Hi.” Her voice was a peep as the shyness took over her face, but Harry didn’t let her move from it. As much as she wanted to burrow back into his chest, he kept her chin up. The energy was palpable, giddiness rocking his belly as he tugged her lip from her teeth. No biting of lips near him, not right now. Even if it was cute. 

There was a lot to speak about in regards to them as a pairing, but he wanted to soak in this warmth for a bit before getting down to the gritty bit of it. The girl had brought him his favorite sweets, and he wanted to enjoy them with her.

“Do you want some coffee?” 

“Tea, please.” 

—

Harry hadn’t been positive Y/N would go through with it. 

That wasn’t a fault or doubt of her person, not at all. But he knew that she really didn’t like hurting people. That much had been something he’d learned very early on in knowing her. She had been mindful of Danny’s feelings the whole time, trying not to flaunt any of it in his face and not giving details unless he asked- which he hardly did. 

They’d not really gotten any sort of response about what they’d done in front of him but Harry knew he wasn’t going to say anything about it because he would be too ashamed to admit it. He wasn’t shocked, though, when he got text messages during the day while Y/N slept soundly on his lap while watching a movie as Harry worked on his phone. She never could stay awake when the movie turned on and he played with her hair. One hand had been gently massaging her scalp while the other typed on his screen when the message popped up on his screen. 

D: I don’t know what the fuck you did to her but I hope you’re happy. I trusted you with her, man. And you fucking stole her. She was mine. That shit you’re into is disgusting and you’ve brainwashed her or something, it’s fucked up. 

Harry almost laughed at the message until he remembered what Y/N had been so upset about. The fact she hadn’t been seen as a person with her own emotions and feelings during the duration of the relationship had hit her. It may have started out good but it ended badly when she realized that he didn’t think she could choose what she liked. This was a prime example of it. 

HS: I get being upset, but I didn’t steal her. She isn’t property. She’s capable of making her own decisions and you texting me something like that proves you don’t trust her judgment yet again. I’ll do my best to make her happy, I care about her more than you can fathom. 

HS: I won’t be by any group gatherings, so don’t worry about that. Bye. 

Harry muted the conversation. 

It really wasn’t something he needed to talk to about with him anymore. He wasn’t sorry, he didn’t regret anything, he didn’t think what they did was fucked up. He could go back and forth about how Danny had been the one to hand over his girlfriend and push her right into Harry’s arms but at what cost? Why would he bother? 

She was curled in his lap, head on his thighs with soft breaths puffing against his shirt. Buttons laid at his dog bed near the fireplace and he felt that happiness bubble up in his stomach again. This was what he wanted. 

The dominant and submissive dynamic was something he loved and he enjoyed, absolutely. But the base level of his desires was wanting a real relationship with this before all the rest of it fell into place. Happiness at the most base level, trust, peace. Finding the delicate balance. 

His eyes traced over her features as his mind wandered a bit. Was a full dynamic what she wanted? Was she looking for commitment right off the bat? Or did she need a little breathing room? 

That didn’t seem as likely considering how she’d come right back home to him. 

The knowledge that she didn’t have anything holding her back was something that pleased him endlessly. He didn’t have to worry about stepping on toes. While they hadn’t expressed out loud that they wanted to be in a full and committed relationship, he knew she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be. 

If he was honest with himself, he knew that an emotional affair had played a part in it. The both of them had been feeling things for each other for a bit, at least for him it had been a while. Y/N had poured her trust into him and he had taken that very seriously. He’d done his best to keep himself in check but now he really didn’t have to. 

It was astounding how fast emotions could form, how feelings could grow from a seedling planted in the pit of his belly to a full bloom that burst through his chest. She’d made a garden inside of him and he wanted her to see just how beautiful it could be, if she gave him the chance. A real one. 

Harry the dominant was one part of him but it wasn’t the whole part. He was a fully fleshed out human with faults. He was picky about keeping his house clean, he could be a bit pushy sometimes, he tended to isolate when he was upset about something. There was hints of insecurity and possessiveness in his personality, jealousy. God, he was a pathetically jealous person even if he tried to keep it under wraps. These were things she hadn’t exactly gotten to see, even if there were glimpses here and there. The underlying anxiety was there and prevalent that maybe she’d see those parts and not like him as much. 

The reminder that Y/N wasn’t that cruel circled back around and called him some, smiling as he felt her stir and scoot closer to him. Her nose nuzzled into his stomach, slow breathing evening out as she got comfortable again pressed up against him. The reminder that she also had faults that he hadn’t exactly seen yet was a comfort. He doubted that anything would truly scare him away, though. The obsession was already in place. 

“M’gonna do my best.” He whispered quietly, letting the back of his hand brush her warm cheek as she snoozed, unaware of his tender words under his breath. Unaware that it felt like he was holding the world in the palm of his hand now, and it was slightly terrifying as he tried to ensure he wouldn’t break it. “Gonna take care of you, sweet girl. Promise.” 

——

Their dinner was quiet. Harry had put on jazz music that was understated beneath their talking, the food was good, but there was no denying that they both knew a conversation laid ahead that would be a defining factor. 

As much as Harry tried to be calm about it, he was slightly nervous. Y/N looked slightly anxious and he tried to keep his shoulders relaxed but it was hard to when he was unsure what part she was anxious about. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. 

“I’m over Danny.” She blurted out. The dam had splintered and she felt like she couldn’t keep it back anymore. “I think I was over him for a long time. if he was in love with me, he would have never sent me to fuck around with someone else. If I was truly in love with him, I wouldn’t have agreed. I wouldn’t have been so eager to come and see you. It has been bothering me for a bit thinking maybe I was a bad person for wanting to move on so quickly but I think I had accepted subconsciously that it had been over for so long that it made it easier for me to feel almost single when I was around you.” Taking a gulp of air, she continued. To his credit Harry didn’t interrupt, merely folded his hands on the table and looked intently at her. 

“The last thing I want you to consider yourself is a rebound, though. I’ve been torn because… while I know I like you a lot, and I do- I really do like you,” she paused to give him a nervous smile. “I wanted to make sure that you understand that I never saw you as someone to move on with when I wasn’t distracted by him in the first place. Every single time we were together I forgot about him. As cruel as it sounds… maybe the first time I had thought about how much better it was and how this was what I was missing, that I knew he’d never be capable of the things I wanted- but being with you was never about him for me.”

Y/N knew she was a flawed individual and it wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t morally right to most people and she understood that. But this had felt like a natural turn of events for her.

“You’ve been at the forefront of my mind since we first met up at the coffee shop. I always thought you were slightly intimidating and very handsome, very kind- but once I had the go ahead to think of you as more, it never stopped. It only grew.” Her eyes dropped to her mostly finished plate as she took a deeper breath. It felt like an avalanche of words were trying to come out, all the things she had held back coming out now that she felt safe enough to. 

“I thought at first it really was a favor to him, that you were doing this because you were a good friend. But I… I’d like to think I have good enough senses to know that you enjoyed it too. You paid me more attention than anyone else ever has. From the texting to check in and remembering things I said off hand, to getting me things that are so unique to me and our conversations… it blew me away.” Her fingers fiddled with the napkin before she braved his eyes again. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I… I really would like to try. With you. The um, the dominant stuff too, but… more? If that's something you’d want.” 

“It is.” There was no hesitation in his answer, knowing she was losing steam in her rant. “It’s what I’ve wanted for a while. I tried very hard to be respectful at first, you know…” he swallowed, trying to find the words. “I wanted to be respectful because of you. I didn’t want to get out of turn. And then… I started to care less about it when I saw how little he cared about your relationship himself. I didn’t take the favor on directly because he asked me.” This was a revelation, just a bit. “I took it on because I knew you, I knew the… I know how it is wanting to try something and feeling like you’ve got no options. I also know how dangerous it could be with the wrong hands on you. And I cared for you, back then more so as a friend but I cared and didn’t want you to have a bad experience. I wanted it to be safe and pleasure filled and selfishly, I was attracted to you as it was.” 

He may have fooled himself into thinking it was for Danny but he knew deep down why he had done it. 

“I think that you took me by surprise. How well we worked together from day one. It felt like… you were made for me. Y’know?”

“Yeah.” She peeped. “I felt the same.”

The small smile on his lips was a reward for her, the table being a good divider for now. If it wasn’t there he knew he would be distracted by wanting to touch her. “Good. I was taken back by it and I wanted more n’more, I got selfish and greedy for a bit. I broke a little, having you in the cafe bathroom. Doin’ that, it was selfish for me. For us. There wasn’t anything pre planned and I knew by how you reacted I wasn’t exactly alone in the want to do more but I didn’t want to make you feel guilty, so I kept it back for a bit.”

It had been so difficult not to beg for me. Ask her to come over during the week when he felt especially lonely. Even just to have her sit in his bed and leave her scent all over the sheets or hear her padding around while he worked. That was the domesticity that he wanted. “It’s been more than sex for me for a while. I know the dynamic is more than that too, but I found myself wanting you around more. Wanting to do more things with you than what we were supposed to do. When we went out the first time together, had me all sort of nervous in the good way and I realized I was getting myself into something that could be really good, or really bad.” His heart had been on the line the whole time. 

“Listen.” Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together again as he had her eyes. “I want t’be with you too. I want more. I want… the fun side where we play and go to the club, all of that. But I want more, too. The dinners and having you in my bed, without fucking. The softer things. I know that in the past you mentioned you had to control everything in your last relationship and I wanted to warn you that m’not like that- I like control in all areas of my life. It’s one of those things I’ve tried to work on a bit. Not necessarily of you in the traditional sense but… I like t’plan the dates. I like to feel needed, don’t mind bein’ the one to take care of you as long as you save that softness for me. Jus’ like you loving on me and being that sweet girl that you’ve shown me so far, and it’ll make me happy.” His hands itched to grab her. “Does that sound like something you can deal with.”

“It sounds like it’s perfect.” A shaky laugh left her as she felt slightly like she was dreaming. “I want to know more about how I can give back to you if you’re doing all the controlling but I… I really like that idea. I don’t mind you being the one to do all those things.” His version was exactly what she wanted. 

“Good.” The sigh of relief was enough to relax his shoulders. “Now c’mon over here. You’ve been far away from me for far too long.”

Y/N scrambled up and rounded the table, a shy smile lighting up her face as she sat in his lap and giggled in surprise as his mouth met hers, eager and languid as his large hand held her hip. She felt safe. Giddy. Warm. She could get used to this. 

[arcanefox207]

The Wolf You Feed (Part 5)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Part 5 / ? (Ongoing) A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Chapter Warnings: ANGST. Smut. POV-Switching. Rated Explicit. 18+ MDNI. See series masterlist for general warnings.

A/N: Hang in there friends. I will ease your pain soon 🧡

The next day you were, for the most part, unconsolable. Marlene let you lay around in her guest bed while you faded in between sleep and numbness. 

The pain was unfamiliar. Hurt because it was so unexpected. Amplified because you were falling so hard for him and thought he felt the same way. Hurt by the immense weight of betrayal and deception that he dumped on you last night. Hurt by the thought that he didn’t want you to know. Hurt because despite the pain you still felt a longing and prayed to just wake from the nightmare like it was all just a bad dream.

The early afternoon sun gave its best attempt to bring some life to you, but you simply rolled away from the window and wrapped yourself up in your warm cocoon. Your phone screen lit up on the nightstand for the umpteenth time and you ignored it.

The apathy you were feeling was weighing you down, paralyzing you from moving from your safe haven. It felt like time wasn’t moving either, and you were just trapped in this moment and helpless to do anything about it.

The 360 your emotions took in the span of 24 hours was unprecedented. It took everything out of you and you can’t stop ruminating on what was and what could have been. Where do you go from here? 

Last night, you don’t remember much of what happened when you left Coppers. You were inconsolable and Marlene felt too responsible for you to let you go home by yourself in your condition. She insisted you get in her car and she brought you to her apartment which was not too far away. 

She didn’t ask you any questions, and you could only assume what she could possibly be thinking about you now. You felt embarrassed and sick to your stomach whenever flashes from the night before popped into your mind. 

How could you have been so stupid?   

A tiny knock on the door caught your attention and Marlene meekly poked her head in. She wandered over to the bed and sat at the edge.

“Come on. I made us lunch and you are going to eat.” She patted your bundled up shoulder and got into your face to glare at you. This request was not optional at this point. You owed her big. She placed a bottle of water on the nightstand and you saw her eye your phone lighting up.

“Fine. Give me a minute?” You didn’t sound very convincing. “I promise.”

Marlene left you some clothes to borrow while you were there. An oversized long sleeve shirt and some sweatpants. Comfortable.

Marlene had lunch fixed for you both and slid over a hot cup of coffee as you approached the kitchen table. 

She was being far too kind to you. On the way home you remember little beyond the haze of being drunk and your breakdown. You remember sobbing and telling her you didn’t want to be alone. She ended up bringing you back to her place in town and babysat you through the night.

You were grateful to have made a friend in her and her kindness was the light guiding you through the turmoil. 

You manage a few bites from your sandwich out of consideration but don’t touch your coffee. The awkward silence is broken after a few moments, you knew the conversation was coming.

“So…” She pauses and then just comes out with it. “You and Joel, huh?” She attempts to drop the topic casually and friendly.

“Not anymore.” You feel your eyes well up again. Tears from anger, sadness and heartbreak. A trifecta of emotions that you don’t recall ever feeling before. Everything about Joel was intense and had been from the moment you met him. 

You realize that since meeting him it had all been mostly bottled up inside you. Except for some vague chatter at work, your life with Joel was mostly a secret. Something you kept private because you were shy about being judged for falling for a man so much older than you.  

You tell her everything. 

“Babe, he isn’t worth the tears.” she said so confidently, like she had so much knowledge about him that you didn’t know. 

“I had no idea about Tess.” The words spill out. “I just assumed it was only me. I would have never… How stupid-”

“Joel is an asshole” she cuts you off. Her tone is getting more heated as she gets frustrated that you are blaming yourself for anything in all of this. “What he did was wrong.” Marlene tried her best to keep her judgements to herself, but she always had been very outspoken. You knew she would be an open book if you would just ask. She seemed to harbor some resentment that was starting to slip out.

“How long have they.. You know. Been together?” you choke on the words.

“As long as I’ve known them.” she catches the way you react and takes a step back to explain. “They used to be close. Really close. Over the years they have grown apart. I think nowadays they just fuck around with each other when they are feeling lonely.” 

Your heart is in your throat and you want to throw up. You go to speak but can’t find the words, only more tears. 

“Sorry. I mean, you should know this.”

She's right, you should know this, and Joel should be the one telling you. You think back to how he was so quick to push you away at the bar and wanted to talk later. You knew something was up and he wasn’t ready for you to find out. Even if you never really defined anything between you both, he led you on. He used you. 

“Tess isn’t a saint either.” She interrupts you as if she can hear your thoughts. “This has been a long time coming. They are both toxic.” 

You wanted to know what she meant by that, but your mind couldn’t get past his wrongdoings. From where you sat last night, it looked like Tess was caught off guard by him too. 

You felt sick to your stomach the moment you realized you were the other woman. Tess didn’t deserve that.  

The tears were flowing again. You drag the back of your hand across your face to quickly wipe them away. 

“You deserve better.” She reassures you.

Do you, though? You wonder. 

You never had the best luck with men. The way Joel made you feel was not something you would be able to replace or move on from easily. He awoke something inside you that you needed to feed. He had a darkness that you were drawn to. A sexual energy that you never sought out before. It was so perfectly hidden behind some neighborly deeds and a tired man’s body.       

“Despite it all, and I know how stupid this sounds. How stupid this is. I still… can’t stop thinking about him.” You confess out loud. 

You were not a stupid person by any stretch, but you were feeling blinded by how he had been making you feel up until last night. Even after you confronted him, before you really learnt what was going on, you still felt like he was doing this for you. He wasn’t acting like the same person, but you could feel the Joel you knew was still there inside him. Like the face he was putting on was for everyone else, but your Joel was waiting in the wings.

When he had you alone by the bathrooms you could feel how much he wanted you. See how much hurt there was in his eyes when you were crying. He told you it wasn’t about you and you really wanted to believe that was true.

When he held your face in his hand and wiped your tears you knew that whatever was going on, his feelings for you were not something to question. He wanted you on a primal level and you wanted him to take what he needed from you. 

You weren’t in a formal relationship with him. You never had that talk with him. You never asked if there was anyone else. These thoughts were creeping in and making you feel stupid and partially responsible. Your conscience was desperately looking for any excuse to help Joel’s case. 

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Joel is nothing but bad news. Look at what he already did to you. Forget him.” 

Easier said than done, you think to yourself. The truth is that up until his performance he had been the first guy in your life that made you feel truly desired. It couldn’t have felt so real if it wasn’t true.

He needed you, but you also needed him.   

“Marlene…” You pause, trepidation in your tone. “I was falling for him. I think I was in l-”

“Stop.” She cuts you off. “You liked his… handsome charm, don’t confuse it for something more.” An annoyance peaks in her voice. 

You had fallen for people before and had relationships based purely on lust and attraction, but this was not it. It was something so unique that you couldn’t even put into words or feelings. A high that he gave you that you had to chase because you needed that next fix so badly. 

“And…” She pauses before cautiously saying more. “He is old enough to be your dad. Come on, this wasn’t going anywhere!” She was trying to make you see the obvious things without sounding too critical. 

You actually liked that he was older. It was so attractive if not a little bit taboo which just made it that much more exciting. He was worn on the edges but he was so confident and capable with everything he did. Not to mention no one had pleasured you like Joel Miller. You were absolutely smitten by everything he gave to you. He made you insatiable for him in every way. 

You brushed off her comments about his age. It was something you loved about him. Something that turned you on that you didn’t feel like defending.

Still, by all counts she was right. You knew the right thing to do would be to move on with your life, without Joel. 

“I’m sure whatever you had was fun, but that is all it was ever going to be.” Her matter of fact way of stating things helped to make the reality hit a little less hard. 

Maybe the reason it felt so good with Joel is because you wanted it to be something more than it was. The pit in your stomach reminds you of its presence and how this whole ordeal makes you feel sick.

There is a long silence between the two of you, and she no doubt can tell how heavy the words are hitting you. She finishes her coffee and clears the table, taking away your hardly touched plate. 

You sit with your thoughts for a moment before joining her at the kitchen sink. You hand her your mostly full coffee mug to pour in the basin.

The elephant in the room is getting too big to ignore.

It didn’t matter how you felt or what you wanted when there was someone else involved.

“What am I going to do now?” You ask her with teary eyes and a meek voice.

“I know Tess pretty well, and she can be scornful. I don’t think she knows about you and Joel, and you should keep it that way.” 

You feel yourself disassociated and want to just disappear. Go back to your Boston life and pretend you never met Joel Miller. Find a new job.  A new place to live and start fresh, again. 

“I like you, and I think you got put in a real shitty situation.” That was an understatement. “I’m not going to say anything to her, ok?” 

You nod, and believe her words.

“You are done with Joel, right?” She looks at you for confirmation. “Right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” You look away from her as you answer and the tears flow again. You weren’t sure if you were lying to her or lying to yourself, but you knew it wasn’t truthful. Whatever path you carved out next would be wrong if it wasn’t leading away from Joel.  

“Then cry as much as you need to now and put this behind you.”

She brings you in for a comforting hug and you sob into her shoulder.   

The worst part of it all is that you still have feelings for him.

—

JOEL POV - The Night Before

As he walked towards the stage to play, he was a wreck inside. Looking calm and composed was just a facade. He was nervous enough to be playing tonight with his carefully thought out song, but now knowing you may very well still be around was tipping him over the edge. There was no turning back at this point and he had to stay the course. He had to get this off his chest and had to wash his hands of Tess. Whatever comes next he would have to take it as it comes. 

The thought of hurting you in any way made him sick. 

Taking his seat he was grateful for the bright lights on him, making the audience look like anonymous shadows. At least in his mind he could pretend it was a room of nobodies. He never was one to have stage fright. He was a talented enough musician and most of the audience was drunk. He didn’t care what they thought anyways.  

He drags his hand along the neck of the guitar, feeling the strings under his calloused fingertips. Taking in a deep breath he adjusts the guitar in his lap. The light reflects off his watch and the shiny, polished wood of his instrument. The stage feels lonely as the room silences with all eyes on him.    

He strums his guitar and flexes his hand to loosen up. There is no turning back now and this is something he has to do. 

“This one’s…. for Tess.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. 

This moment the only thing that mattered was that she heard this. He never was one with words or talking about his feelings, but he always had been able to lean on music when it mattered. It was the only time he truly let himself be vulnerable.  

As he started playing, he blocked out everything around him. His mind was just filled with the memories of Tess. What he loved. What he wanted. What he never got and never will. What he would always mourn but no longer desire. His time with her was over for him. He could feel his heart aching as he sang, but also getting lighter, not realizing how heavy this all was weighing on him for such a long time until he was letting it go.

As the song progressed it felt cathartic. Letting some of his anger slip into his tone and fade out into the ether, taking along his frustrations. Confronting all the feelings he had been holding in for so long. The sadness he felt was mourning, and he knew it would only get better now that he was moving on. He had already been mourning her loss for a long time without truly acknowledging it. Until now.       

Living in the memory

   Of a love that never was

He was feeling bolder and confident that his decision to be done with Tess was the right one. It didn’t erase their history or make her impact on his life any less significant. What they had was special and always would be. It didn’t have to overstay like it was in order to preserve that history. It was time to move on and stop feeding the resentment that was overtaking everything left that was good.

He would always love her for their history and she had to know so that she could move on too before the damage between them was too great. He knew she would understand and accept it; in time. 

Then you crept back into his mind. Finally he was giving himself permission to allow it to, properly. 

You filled in all that empty space that was vacant for just mere moments. Another realization that he wasn’t giving everything to you and how much he wanted to. He had been indulging in your companionship with trepidation. Reluctant to open himself up and fearful that it would be another road to nowhere. 

Afraid you might not want him and his darkness that came along once you really knew him. 

His eyes were finally adjusted to the lights just enough to make out the details in the shadows in front of him. 

He couldn’t help himself to look up and scan the audience, searching for you passively. Deep down, he knew you were still out there. He could sense that unexplainable feeling when someone is watching you intently. It made his heart race as he struggled to fight the distraction and finish his song. 

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

And I think I'm gonna love you

As if by instinct, he zeroed in on you standing towards the back of the room with tears in your eyes. An invisible rope tethering you together against the odds in the sea of shadows. 

When he caught your eyes he had to look away in shame. Disgusted with himself that you were collateral damage in his situationship. He choked on his final words, and they came out low and shaky.  

For a long, long time.

He strummed the last chords of his song and fought back the feeling in his throat that was bubbling up. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and the weight of his actions was crushing him. The silence in the room filled him with dread and it felt like time was standing still, like he was in front of everyone naked with his emotions raw and exposed before them. His chest was tight, bursting with an anxious heart beating rapidly with heavy thuds.  

A conflicting wave of emotions tears through him and it takes everything not to lose his composure. He takes the deepest breath, closes his eyes and it isn’t Tess that comes to mind. 

It’s you. 

With his final strum of the guitar it felt like he was releasing himself from Tess. Free after so long and fighting so hard for their relationship. Free to bring his full attention to where his heart was calling him.

Finally the room erupts in applause and he feels the tiniest pang of relief wash over him and snaps him back to reality. He sneaks off the stage and makes his way towards the back. He needed to hold you and tell you how sorry he was and at this point he didn’t care who saw him.

Familiar faces and acquaintances slapped him on the back and boasted to him about how great he did and the gauntlet of drunken patrons slows him down significantly. When he manages to break away and gets eyes on where you were standing you are nowhere to be found. 

A hand grabs his sleeve and he turns but his heart sinks when it’s Tess.

“Joel..” she whines through a shaky voice and pulls him to look at her.

He didn’t want to be cruel to her or disregard whatever feelings she was going through but he also didn’t feel obligated to her anymore. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was on her leash. He was done putting her first.  

“Tess, not now.” His voice was low and gentle. He really did feel for her out of habit, but he also knew he couldn’t let her try to reconcile. Not yet, anyways. He was open and hopeful to remain friends with her, but she needed to get over him first. He knew her reaction would be anger until she had time to cool off. 

“Really? After that you are going to ice me out? What the hell, Joel?” Her anger was increasing with every sound leaving her lips. The last thing he wanted was a blow up with her and he wasn’t going to let her control this narrative any longer. 

“Stop it.” He unintentionally uses his size to intimidate her as he steps closer. Silencing her as the remaining empathy leaves his eyes. He was never confrontational with Tess, and this was something new that she did not expect or know how to react to.   

A few nosy people nearby get quiet as they try to watch the drama unfold in front of them and pretend to be minding their own business. Joel takes a step back from Tess and furrows his brow.  

“I told you. I’m moving on. We’re done now.” He says firmly and sharply points his finger towards her. The tears in her eyes almost make him soften, but he holds firm. “Done.” He reiterates through gritted teeth.

He hated being so cold, but he had to or else nothing would change.  

Tess bites her lip and for the first time has no words. She was so used to being the boss and calling the shots and for the most part Joel let her. Not this time. She wipes the wetness that starts to fall from her eyes and walks off, angry and hurt.

“What are you looking at?” He snaps at the prying eyes watching him be a total asshole and then proceeds to walk towards the exit to continue his search. He was quickly running out of fucks to give by this point in the evening.

The bar was starting to clear out a little now that the live entertainment was done for the night. He doesn’t see you and starts to worry you left without allowing him a chance to explain himself. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he needed to see you. To apologize at the minimum and beg you to hear him out. There was so much you didn’t know that he needed to tell you.

He collects his guitar, dons his jacket and makes his way outside. There is a gentle snow falling and a coating on the cars and walkway. Footprints heavily littering the path into the parking lot and fanning out. It would be a fool's errand to pick out your prints or your car under the blanket of winter. 

He makes his way to his truck, and carelessly brushes off his windshield with his sleeve. 

He pulls out his phone and calls you, but it goes unanswered and to your mailbox. He sends you a text.

Joel: Im so sorry baby

Joel: Please can we talk? 

He leans on his truck, ignoring the cold and tries to call you again. And again. The relentless ringing is only silenced by the robotic voice of the generic voice mail operator.

After the 3rd call he left a message.

“Please answer the phone baby girl. I know I don’t deserve it, but I need to talk to you. Please.” His message was delivered with a low, calm tone, barely masking that he was afraid. 

Afraid he lost you.  

—

READER POV - Saturday Afternoon

Marlene dropped you off at the bar to pick up your car. No one was around this time of day and it felt surreal being back at the scene of the crime, so to speak. She gave you a hug and just nodded to you as you left. Urging you to believe you would be ok, and you had to move on. 

When you got home you didn’t even dare look to see if Joel was home. You went inside, took a shower and wrapped up in a blanket to watch TV on your couch.

Whatever was on you didn’t really pay attention. Your mind was just filled with Joel. You wanted to wake up from this bad dream. 

You had been vulnerable with him. You were ready to give yourself to him so quickly because you craved that intimacy only he could give. He worshipped your body and made you feel something you never felt before. 

Was that enough? Surely not to a self respecting person. It makes you feel sick to be so hesitant to do the obviously right thing.  

You so badly wanted him, and knew you couldn’t just let him treat you this way. You felt guilty about still wanting to give him a chance.

You finally gave in to looking at your phone. 

You had 34 unread messages from Joel. 9 missed calls and 3 voicemails. You fought the urge to see what he had to say and instead gave notice to your other missed calls. Your mother. She had tried to call you 3 times. You had barely talked to her this past week and didn’t really want to but you also knew she would worry if you continued to ignore her. You were afraid she might also reach out to her precious neighbor too if you gave her any reason to panic. It didn’t take much with her. 

You called your mom, lied that you were sick with the flu and that you just wanted to sleep. She didn’t make you talk long thankfully and she didn’t say anything about her handyman neighbor.

The night was getting late and you mustered up enough energy to move into your bedroom. 

Seeing Joel’s flannel shirt laying at the foot of your bed hit you hard. You had been so happy and flirty just a few nights before and you wanted that back. It felt like it was taken from you unfairly.

You hugged the shirt to your chest and breathed in his masculine scent that still lingered. The scent that drove you wild with desire.  

How were you going to get over this man who made you such a mess?

You tossed the shirt into your dirty clothes pile and got into bed, lamenting how cold and empty it was and wishing you were wrapped up in Joel’s navy blue sheets and stealing his heat. Feeling his heartbeat against your cheek as he holds you close. The ghost of his touch on your skin makes you tear up again. 

Fuck you Joel Miller. You mumble out loud to yourself. It wasn’t fair.   

You lay there for what felt like hours, your mind firing on all cylinders with no hope of slowing down. 

Curiosity won in the end, and you opened up the text thread with Joel. You scanned it quickly and saw a recurring theme of him asking if you were ok, apologizing and worried that you were not home.  

Joel: Please just tell me you are safe

Joel: I’ll leave you alone just let me know

Joel: Where are you? 

Those were texts from the morning. After your car was back home and signs of life his messages were back to apologizing and what you can only imagine to be a descent of drunken texts from this evening.

Joel: I’m so sorry

Joel: We need to talk

Joel: Please n

Joel: I m fucknig srry

Joel: Just let m tel you and ill stpo

Joel: /

Joel: I ned to talk to you

You wanted to talk to him. You needed some clarity, but you also didn’t want to be tricked into forgiving him because of your body betraying your mind. There was a nagging you could not shake that his actions at the bar didn’t undo the way he made you feel. There had to be more to it or else it would be so easy to wash your hands of him and never turn back. 

You started typing a reply and deleting until finally settling on just leaving him on read. 

You listened to his first voicemail, and hearing the pain in his voice made your heart break more. He was worried about you and he sounded like he was doing his best to be composed, but you could see through it. That southern drawl makes you melt when you hear him call you baby girl.

You slammed your phone down and regretted giving in to his attempts. It only made it harder to be mad at him.  

As you drifted off to sleep with tears leaving wet stripes on your cheeks you decided that tomorrow you would go see Joel. You would go in person and get a true gauge of where things stand. You would also try to do the right thing.    

—

JOEL POV - Saturday Night

Midday and he was worried about you. Not only were you not answering him or reading his messages, but you also had not been home. Of course you were an adult and clearly could do whatever you wanted, but he felt entirely responsible for whatever you were up to. 

He paced to his bedroom window, looking out through the blinds to see the same snow covered drive. Untouched. He was getting restless.  

He flips through your messages and can’t help but look at the pics you sent him during your bedtime photoshoot.

He could feel himself harden and palmed himself through his denim to get some relief. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t control the way his body reacted to you. He unzips his jeans to let his cock breathe as he takes a seat in the living room. 

Scrolling through the photos you sent and seeing more and more of your body made him swell. The pressure in his groin became too much to handle with a casual touch. 

Fuck he mumbles under his breath. 

He spreads his legs wider and slides a hand inside his boxers to stroke himself, imagining it was you and your gentle hands wrapped around his shaft. 

The guilt of what he did weighed heavy on his mind but didn’t hinder him from getting aroused. He needed to have you again. Feel your tight pussy gripping him and listen to your sweet moans. 

It eats away at him. It was wrong to get off to you especially after what he had done to you. 

But it didn’t stop him.

Settling on the second picture you sent, he focuses on how deranged and needy you looked. Hungry for his cock. Your breasts were perfectly in view and still partially clad in his shirt. His scent was all over you in that moment. You were his.  

His labored strokes quicken as he fucks into his fist and he comes with a stifled groan. 

Sitting alone with his release dripping over his knuckles made him feel like a dirty old man. Getting off to a woman that didn’t want him anymore.   

He woke later that evening, awkwardly slumped against the arm of his chair. The house was completely dark except for some embers from his wood stove about to give it’s last breath. He was groggy and sore. His neck ached from the awkward position. 

After getting his wits about him, he opened his phone to see you still had not replied. He stumbled over to his window and to his relief your car was parked in the yard. 

At least you were home. You were safe. Clearly you did not want to talk to him yet. 

He wanders off to his kitchen to pour himself a stiff drink and downs it way too fast before taking a shower and drinking again and again. 

As the whiskey clouds his mind and fills him with nothing but remorse for what he did, he sloppily sends you some desperate texts before passing out for the night.

—

READER POV - Sunday

The Sunday afternoon energy was heavy. You had been avoiding Joel in every possible way since Friday night. The exception being your moment of weakness and reading his texts. Instead you buried yourself in a book trying to focus your mind on another world with characters struggling with simpler problems.

The time spent alone had given you some peace to think about what your next move was going to be, but you were still battling with what to do.

If you were not so smitten with him it would be so easy to just walk away. You never questioned his character before and now it’s all you can do. Weighing the damage he did with what you had come to know about him before was not an easy task. It also made you question your own character. What kind of a person would it make you be to continue on with this? Maybe you battled with failed relationships all your life because you never found the one to balance who you really are. Maybe you are just hopelessly lusting over Joel Miller and telling yourself anything that can make it feel ok. 

Your anger and hurt was stinging less and making you feel more numb than anything. Marlene’s words of advice were lingering in the front of your mind constantly. You felt guilty for entertaining the idea of talking to him and even more guilty for settling on actually doing it. 

Looking out your front window you see his truck parked in his driveway. No fresh tire tracks and covered in snow. You had not seen any signs of life since you returned home other than some smoke from his chimney and a light or two.

The text messages from him did still trickle in at a slower pace, but you continued to ignore them. Wiping the notification off your lock screen.

Marlene also texted you periodically to check in and you assured her you were doing just fine and would be ok. 

You made an impulsive decision to go over now before you changed your mind again, not sure what you were going to say or do, but you couldn’t ignore him forever. The more you thought about what your gameplan was the more you started to talk yourself out of it.  

You freshened up in the bathroom, applying some light makeup to mask the bags under your eyes and hide the fact that you have been crying for days. You knew deep down you also just wanted to look really good for him. You wanted to spite him and make him want you but not let him have you as some sort of punishment. At least that is what you told yourself.     

You bundled up in your boots and winter jacket. Wrapped a scarf around you and put on some mittens and a hat. Your hair falling loosely around your face. You looked cute but completely covered up. 

The sun was just starting to set, but there was still plenty of light left to venture outside.

You wandered over to your mailbox and picked up the scent of burning wood. A smoky, campfire smell. It smelled inviting. You heard a chopping sound coming from the direction of Joel’s house and guessed he was outside working. Typical Joel behavior to be outdoors. 

As you make your way to his house the campfire smell intensifies and you see some smoke coming from the side of his house. There is a footpath going from his driveway and you decide to follow it to the sound.

As you round the corner, the sight is enough to make you forgive all his wrongs.

Joel’s back was to you and his silhouette is bright and familiar. You could recognize his figure in a lineup with ease. Broad and commanding.  

The frame of his body was muscular but not bulky. Toned from his manual labor lifestyle. His broad shoulders and tapered waist were perfectly illuminated by the burning fire next to him.  

He was dressed in some dirty jeans that hugged him perfectly and heavy work boots. His torso clad in a rustic, plaid flannel not too different from the one you stole. The sleeves are pushed up and bunched on his forearms and his hands protected with leather gloves. 

You see his jacket discarded on a pile of chopped wood and a small brush pile burning next to him, keeping him unnecessarily warm. It looked like he had more than enough body heat radiating off him. Uncomfortably toasty.  

The area between his shoulder blades was damp and dark with sweat. The curls in his hair were an unruly mess, especially where they met the hot perspiration on his neck. 

Seeing Joel in lumberjack mode unlocked something inside you that you didn’t even know existed. He was so primal in his ability to handle whatever task was at hand. Just as he had been when intimate with you. He could take you away and live off the grid someplace in the wilderness and you wouldn’t bat an eye. He was more than capable of taking care of all your needs.  

You feel it deep inside you. That intense heat building that only Joel can make you feel. An arousal coiling up inside you and ready to burst out if given the chance.   

He turns to place a section of wood in front of him and makes a grunt sound as he lifts it into place. No doubt it was heavy and judging by his pile, and the sweat on his body, he had been at this for a while. His outstretched arm had his flannel tightly choking his bicep as he moved to adjust the log in front of him. It was obscene to see his body flex and demonstrate his strength. The desire to have his arms on you in this moment and feel the full force of his body against you.

He picks up the axe and throttles it down again with a grunt, wood splintering in front of him as the force from his axe splits the wood into two.

He is nearly panting from the exertion, moving the split wood over to the pile only to repeat it all over again. He pulls his shirt up to wipe his brow. The hard ridges of his muscles taunt you as they shine in the light of the fire. As he wipes his sweat and pauses for the briefest moment to rest against his axe you decide to make your presence known before he realizes you are watching him.

“Hey Joel” you announce softly.

He is startled by you and turns quickly, letting his shirt fall back over his stomach. His expression softens when he meets your eyes. He tosses the axe next to him and pulls off his gloves as he steps towards you. 

The heat of his body and his smoky scent hit you all at once as he stands just in front of you, unsure if he should touch you or not.  He hesitates but you can see the desire in his eyes to touch you. 

“Sweetheart, I’m–” he pauses, and rakes his hand through his hair. “I’m so glad to see you. Lord knows I don’t deserve it.” He gives a side smirk and his best attempt at looking innocent. It almost works.

He steps towards you but you reluctantly hold your hand up. He ignores it and pushes his chest into your palm. His innocence was replaced with cunning intentions. His damp and hot chest sending a wave of desire through you, making you even more wet. You were certain he could sense it too despite your attempts to act put together.  

Before you can protest he has his hands on your waist. His fingers wrapping around you and positioned to pull you in close. His needy energy is not something you have seen before. Not like this. Assertive but stepping over a line you put out. 

“Joel, stop.” You weakly protest and take a step back from him. His hands slide off your hip as you step away and you can see some panic in his eyes that he misread what this was. 

He could clearly see how mixed you were feeling. He was letting his raw desire take the lead and hoped it would help sway you to give in to him and soften your resolve. Whether it was wrong or right, he knew that sexual tension you both had was not going silently.

He also knew that he cared about you more than just as a hookup. Truthfully you had made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was so scared to lose you before he even got to properly have you. His fear was making him act stupid and desperate and he didn’t know how to reign it back. Especially with you being just within your reach. He was tailspinning.      

“I’m sorry, baby.” He pauses. “I should have told you about her. It’s not what it looks like. I mean, it is complicated and–”

You swallow back your feelings and look him straight in the eyes. How much more cliche could he get?  

“It’s too late for that now,” you countered, realizing that confronting this now was not something you were ready for after all. 

Joel chewed his lip, wiping his hand on his chin as he fought back the urge to unleash some of his anger that he had been harboring. Anger he had towards himself that needed to escape. He was getting agitated.

He knew you were right, but he knew he couldn’t just let you go. He lets out a deep breath as he pinches between his brows, releasing a little tension as he exhales and composes his next words carefully.

“I want you to… need you to know I never did anything with her while I was with you.” His words come out desperate, pleading with you to understand. To forgive him even. 

You weren’t sure if you believed that. You couldn’t exactly trust him anymore now that the trust had been broken.     

“I swear it. There is a lot you don’t know about Tess and-”

Hearing her name on his lips is the last straw and it enrages you, reminding you that you are not here for second chances and apologies. You are here to tell him to leave you alone.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” You declare coldly and emotionless. 

Joel stares, he looks like he wants to speak but he isn’t sure what to say. He isn’t sure he heard you right, or didn’t want to believe that he did. 

You go to turn but he grabs your sleeve and holds you to face him.

“Please, I need to… don’t go.” He stumbles over his words, grabbing you harder than he meant to, desperate to make you stay.  

“You hurt me.” The tears start to fall again as you speak your truth to him. You look him straight in the eyes so he can see your pain from what he did. There was no misreading your tears. 

“I know. Never meant for you to get hurt. I can explain-” He panics, realizing you are leaving him and his chance is fleeting.

You struggle to pull your arm away but he isn’t listening and just brings you closer with his strength. He was blind to your obvious demands to stop. Clouded by his panic.  

“I owe you an explanation. Let me-” His eyes penetrate into you, begging you to look at him. 

“It's too late.” You cut him off. “Lose my number.” Your words bite. 

You pull your arm away sharply and continue to walk away. You feel him staring at you and you swear he can hear your heart beating out of your chest. It took every ounce of restraint to hold firm with what you set out to do. You were not going to let him talk you into changing your mind.

With tears welling up in your eye you continue walking forward. You hear him begging you to stop and listen to him. 

“Sweetheart, please.” he calls out after you. Pleading with you but you put more distance between him and his words as they get quieter.

Under his breath, Joel whispers “I’m sorry.” When your pace quickens and you don’t look back you swear you can hear him speak those words again and again, but you keep walking. 

To be continued...

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

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[thedeskofaltoclef]

How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk

[signanothername]

How would an average interaction between Cross and Killer be like?

Killer not even paying attention to Cross at all, and Cross being extremely offended by that ghdvgyv

To Killer, Cross isn't much of a threat, physically, emotionally or mentally, hell, he's not even close to being any sorta challenge

Killer finds everyone else a much bigger threat than Cross could ever be, from Horror and Murder, to Color, Epic and Delta, to Swap and Dream, and if Killer handled all of them atop handling the self proclaimed king of negativity, then Cross has big shoes to fill if he was so desperate for attention that he wanted Killer to acknowledge his pathetic attempts to be seen at all

Cross is all talk no action to Killer, Cross blabbers about being a royal guard and how he can kick Killer's ass but Killer is simply not even listening to Cross' threats or words

Killer's always been about actions not words, if Cross says he's gonna break his neck then he better deliver, and when it escalates (which happens a lot, Cross is generally aggressive), so far, Cross hasn't managed to impress Killer with his words turned actions either

The most interesting thing about him was his soul when it had its determination, the determination is no longer there, so Cross has lost any characteristics that could pull Killer's attention to him, and he frankly, sees Cross as extremely pathetic that he's simply not worth any second of his time at all, Cross is invisible to him if you will

Cross on the other hand, isn't desperate for Killer's attention because he admires Killer or is trying to impress him, but rather, born from both a deep-rooted insecurity and hating to feel out of place, like he doesn't belong

He looks at Killer and thinks of how similar they are in a way, yet so different still, and wonders what Killer has that he doesn't, why does Killer seem smarter, stronger, more durable, faster, more agile, more flexible and adaptable, and like he's so much better at everything, even so much better at healing from his pain and suffering, like it doesn't affect him at all (that's Cross' outlook on life, what he sees of Killer, but in reality, Cross has always been making greater and better progress in healing than Killer does, Killer isn't always better than him at everything)

So when he sees Killer not even bother look his way, and when he sees how apathetic he is towards not only him, but his friends, the ones that love him and take care of him, it hurts, and it makes his blood boil, how could Killer be so ungrateful

Cross isn't some innocent little boy who hasn't done horrific actions himself, but he's definitely hypocritical, as he'd lecture Killer and talk about how much of a terrible person he is and remind Killer of the fact he used to work for Nightmare (when he, the better person in his eyes, denied) like he hasn't done so many awful things himself

In reality Cross feels his emotions deeply, Killer doesn't, and that makes them clash in ideals, views, and general life outlook

Cross just needs to get to know Killer better and adjust to him, understand how to deal with him, but generally, Cross and Killer do get closer in the end, and they both warm up to each other

And when they actually warm up to each other, they act so much like siblings, the kind that love to be a lil mean to each other, but are gonna have each other's back regardless

[lovelaetter]

finals are over amen. these are lowkey so incoherent... #NeedToPracticeEng "( – ⌓ – )

kitten!karina : she's between your legs, looking up through half-lidded eyes like you're the only thing that matters. but that's because you are the only thing that matters, to her, at least. she's lapping everything up like she's been starved—might as well have been, you were on a trip, she just craved her fill—and she doesn't care if you already came because she wants—needs—more. almost like purring, her moans against your cunt because she's so pussy-drunk she's slurping and whining like a pornstar. the vibrations against your core as she looks up at you with that sly look almost makes you forget everything. she's so eager to please, needing to fill her mouth.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ implied consensual somno⠀⸝⸝⸝⠀⠀bunny!winter : she's in heat. twitching and riding a pillow, she's so blissed out with her nose scrunched up and biting on her bottom lip. she's more like a rabbit, humping against any and every surface because she needs to be stuffed full, her mind is begging for it, but she can't form thoughts coherent enough to do it herself. you come home to find her riding a pillow, her face so blissed out but she keeps begging for 'inside' even tho she's not sure if you've come home or not. she'll be so surprised when you remove the pillow, teasing her, "couldn't wait, huh? just needed your cunt stuffed." and she'd be so quick to admit it, too needy to even be ashamed. just impatient when you put on your strap and she's immediately riding it until she's close to passing out. but she's so fucking desperate for even more, she just told you to take over once she's out cold.

fox!giselle : oh, fuck. at work and you just get the horniest messages from gigi. let's be honest, she can't go a single day without teasing because she knows it'll get her a rough fucking. going home to grab her thighs, her ass, her waist—any bare surface you can get as you full on rip off her clothes. taking her from behind so she can force her to look at the mirror, she's bent over the vanity. she's suddenly so shy. whining and moaning in such a high-pitched tone. but she's still being a brat, complaining about you not being deep enough only to immediately cum the second you fully thrust a dildo inside her, one swift motion. she's never felt so full (that's a lie, she makes sure this happens as often as she can, but it still makes her melt brain every time) but you make up for it with sweet nothings because at the end of the day, she does need a little praise because she's still just a brat. acting out because she wants it rough only to realize her mistake after but does it all over again anyway.

puppy!ningning : I don't even know how to explain my thoughts for this one. just... her riding your shoe as she looks up at you. she's like a full on dog, debasing herself and so needy. she keeps saying that it feels good, that you're making her feel good despite you just sitting there and watching her hump at your shoe erratically, almost maniac. and she has the most adoring look. kind of like karina's, except hers is just utter devotion. it's like she's worshipping, not getting herself off. so needy for the slightest bit of attention. a puppy begging for scraps and getting more than because she's adorable and so good.

signed by ☃️

i— anon, it scares me, genuinely, how you ALWAYS manage to read my thoughts, like, what the fuck? also, glad to hear your finals are over, dear, please take some time to rest now !

thinking of spoiled kitten!rina, deserves to sleep on the best sheets with the best pillows and eat the best fish, gets what she wants when she wants and you are no exception. calling her spoiled but it’s your fault, how are supposed to deny her pretty face anything? type to crawl to you, settle herself between your legs and smirk, head nuzzling against your stomach, kisses on the insides of your thighs. whines if you deny her, even as a joke, she missed you so much, your warmth, your taste, don’t do that to her… she promises she won’t disturb you much, knows you’re tired from your trip and the moment you nod she’s already pushing her face against your crotch, over your clothes and everything. she’s so good, so uncaring and messy, hands grabbing at your flesh, kitten claws scratching, and obviously breaks her promise, growing more desperate the moment you cum for the first time, eager to drink up everything. kisses her way up your body after to lay on top of you, purring and rubbing her wet-smeared cheeks against you… clingy kitten :(

bunny!winter in heat, god, i love this. can you imagine actually, not being her girlfriend but like, roommate or something? but there’s this tension and to come home to find her like that ! pretty, little bunny humping your pillow, on your bed, calling your name to help her, what a sight. you try to reason with her— “just needs your cunt stuffed? you could’ve asked”— but the way she simply tosses her head back to look at you, zero shame, taking your hand that holds the pillow, not making much sense, it makes you take pity on her. a mess, bouncing on top of you until her legs ache, dirty sound of skin on skin and wetness and moans echoing, your own thighs slippery with how much slick she leaks. she would cry if she woke up to find out you stopped fucking her just because she passed out, how dare you? it hurts so bad now, she’s so empty and cold… now you know your lesson and to not stop the next time.

now, fox!giselle, this fucking girl, professional brat. she will send the nastiest stuff— extremely detailed text, a photo, a fucking audio that you have to thank god you listened with no one around because she didn’t bother to be quiet, as always— and then go completely quiet, not replying to your panicked texts, sitting at the couch back home giggling knowing she got you. and you know what? she will act shocked once you arrive, might call you desperate. so true about turning shy once she sees your reflections on the mirror because yes, look at her, all blushed and panting, tits pressed to the vanity and she can feel herself drip down her thigh and your eyes on her, so dark… running her mouth about not being full enough only to get both her holes stuffed, so many sensations at time, her noises so loud she can barely hear you ask her if she still needs more, kicking and twisting at you relentlessly playing with her ass. sure does need to hear some praise and sweet nothings during aftercare, whining on your lap because she is sore (she loves it).

puppy!ningning as your office pet… she doesn’t even live with you, started as your secretary but ended up where she is now, in a comfy corner of your office with her toys and phone and food, just something pretty for you to play with when your job as boss gets too stressful. she is so lovely, tail wagging at every bit of your attention, not wasting a single second whenever you order her to come closer. grips on you while her cunt slides over your shoe, part of her mind disappointed, she’s crumpling up your clothes, but it feels so good, she needs to hold onto something. she’s a crier too, but happy tears, satisfied tears, looking up at you with pure admiration, moans that grow louder and louder as you pet her head, leaning down to rest your forehead against hers and shush her, it’s okay, she can cum, be a good puppy and cum for you. she loves you, genuinely, so loyal to you, and dreams of the day you will take her home and she will be able to be yours full time.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Baking Christmas Cookies With Sanji

Sanji Vinsmoke X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: None just some Christmas fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

(A/N:) Just an idea I had last year that I never got time to write. I have so much I want to write but everything has been so chaotic and busy it's hard to find time to sit down and write. I'm hoping after the Christmas season my job will start to slow down and I can get back into the swing of writing! This is the second time in a month that I've wrote for Sanji so hopefully this makes his fangirls happy! Merry Christmas everyone and I will try my best to get my other two Christmas fics wrote in time for Christmas! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The Sunny was quiet for a change as Christmas Eve evening turned into Christmas Day. The excitement kept you from being able to sleep deeply and a little after midnight you finally gave up. Tossing and turning wasn't restful and you rather be up and about anyway if you weren't going to be able to sleep. Climbing up onto the deck, you shivered a little at the chill and rubbed warmth into your arms. A clear sky overhead and the magic of Christmas floating on the chilly breeze. You breathed deeply watching the stars wink back playfully. You joined Luffy's crew about a year ago and since day one it had been an adventure worthy of a thousand books.

But it was this time of year that made you miss home the most. You had set out for a grand adventure to shoot for the dream you wanted to accomplish since childhood. Leaving home had been one of your toughest decisions. But when Luffy offered, you couldn't say no, no matter how much it tore you to pieces to say goodbye. The friends you made along the way and the battles you faced made you forget for a little while. Special times, like Christmas always brought your attention back to the hole that was left when you began your journey.

The kitchen door opened behind you and Sanji stepped outside with a steaming mug in one hand and a blanket draped over his arm. He wore an apron with a generous dusting of flour and a smear of butter on his cheek.

"I thought I heard the ladies' cabin door open. You okay," Sanji asked, handing you the mug and wrapping the blanket around your shoulders but kept his arm around you. His concerned expression melted your heart and you leaned in deeper into his embrace.

"Yeah. Just feeling a little homesick," you sipped at the hot beverage. Sighing as peppermint and chocolate coated your tongue and the heat radiating from your insides.

"I'm sure Christmas time makes it a little more lonely," Sanji squeezed you.

"I'm not lonely I have you and everyone else. But I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my family," you swallowed while trying to blink back tears.

"It's okay," Sanji whispered.

You both stood quietly watching a shooting star, letting the moment remain until you started to shiver a little harder.

"Why are you up Sanji," you asked clutching the blanket around your shoulders tighter and taking another sip of cocoa. "Surely you didn't wait up to hear some kind of sob story from yours truly?"

Sanji chuckled, "While I would do that any time for you. I'm actually working on some Christmas cookies. With Luffy around I have to make an obscene amount so to make sure there is plenty for everyone on Christmas morning, so I have to work through the night."

"That sounds like a lot of work," you were concerned about Sanji doing so much by himself. "But it also sounds really fun. Can I help?"

"Only if you want to and not feel like you have to help me because you feel sorry for me."

"No I want to," you argue! "I can't sleep anyway and the kitchen will be much warmer."

"Then your wish is my command."

Leading the way Sanji opened the kitchen door for you and swept you inside. He closed the door behind you both quietly before he unhooked another apron from the wall. You relished in the warmth as the oven was preheating and the smell of sugar and cinnamon tickled your nose. Sanji had to have been busy for several hours now as the counter was full of different types of doughs and several pans of Christmas shaped sugar cookies waiting to go in the oven. Icing filled up the mixing bowl waiting to be dyed and piped onto baked and cooled cookies. It felt like a winter wonderland bakery, it would make Santa jealous by default. In your awe Sanji gently slipped an apron over your head and tied the strings at the back with deft fingers. He kissed your cheek before leading you behind the counter.

"Wash those hands and you can start rolling out dough and cutting out shapes," Sanji winked.

"Aye chef," you saluted before pumping soap into your hands and washing them thoroughly in warm water. With freshly cleaned and dried hands, you got to work. Humming Christmas carols as you worked, there was something relaxing about the process. Roll. Cut. Place. Bake. Repeat. It felt like a dance and Sanji was just happy to watch. Your spirits rose with every carol you hummed and the kitchen filled with a warmth that the oven couldn't make. Sanji mixed food dye into the icings as you removed cookies from pans onto cooling racks. With two working it didn't take long for the counter to be overrun with cookies of all shapes and flavors.

"Now we just have to decorate the sugar cookies and we're done," Sanji wiped his hands on a towel. He set out piping bags he had been filling while you finished baking the last of the cookies. He rummaged around in the cabinet and placed several bottles of sprinkles next to the piping bags. He pulled up a couple of stools and you both sat close to one another, quickly getting to work on decorating. A peaceful silence settled between you two as you both worked. Sometimes your fingers brushed against Sanji's dyed ones as you both reached for something at the same time. You thought the little splotches of red and green staining his fingers were cute as they contrasted against his skin. A heat bloomed in your cheeks that the temperature of the kitchen had nothing to do with.

Once again you started filling the kitchen with Christmas carols and this time Sanji joined in. He didn't sing much, and if he did it was quietly and to himself. But now he sang out boldly, harmonizing with your voice as you both worked. When the last cookie was finally finished you stretched your back and rubbed at your sleepy eyes. You were covered in sticky icing and you were pretty sure there was sprinkles stuck in your hair, thanks to the minor sprinkle war you and Sanji waged, but your heart was full and the sadness you felt earlier had dissipated. That's when you caught Sanji staring. Once again your cheeks warmed at the steady gaze of the Sunny's gourmet cook.

Sanji leaned in, lips brushing against yours, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Sanji," you whispered before his mouth claimed yours.

You tasted the sugar on his tongue and the strong hands gripping your arms as your present came early in the arms of the cook you adored for so long. Sanji pulled away, his cheeks a bright red and suddenly becoming bashful he stood up awkwardly.

"Sorry," he muttered. Though he lied he wasn't sorry at all.

"Don't be," you replied. "Thank you Sanji for everything."

He nodded grabbing platters to start stacking cookies. You eased over helping him place cookies in neat little piles on the decorative platters. You nudged him a little with your arm causing him to wobble and you knew something had shifted between you both. And you knew it was for something good as your time with Sanji this Christmas morning was a present all in itself.

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 15)

Contains: smut, fingering (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dubcon, possessiveness, edging, overstimulating, biting, bruising, gagging, dirty talk, degrading, mentions of words like slut and whore, jealousy, dom!Daemon, incest

Wordcount: ~4.24k

Masterlist of this story

Lord Jakor led Maera on the dance floor and just like she had done before with Daemon she let him put his hand on her waist.

Of course she preferred to feel her husband's hand but she didn't mind Jakor. He was a kind man and his eyes didn't have this maliciousness inside of them that she had seen in Cylvin's. And as Maera now found out, Lord Jakor was a fantastic dancer. He twirled her around so quickly that she let out a gasp but broke out in laughter shortly after.

"Too fast for you, princess?" he smiled but she shook her head.

"No no, my lord. I just wasn't expecting it."

The two of them moved to the music for another two songs until Maera wiped the sweat off her forehead and greedily inhaled for air.

"I think I need a break, my lord."

"Of course, princess. As you wish."

With these words he bowed deeply but her attention was suddenly drawn somewhere else. It was Daemon who just made his way through the crowd and he didn't look amused. Maera straightened up and breathed in a couple of times. He wouldn't be angry, she would just explain to him what happened. The girl knew very well about her husband's jealousy that even faded into possessiveness at times but this was a different case.

She looked at him as sweetly and adoringly as she could and reached out for his hand once he stood in front of her.

"How was it, my love?" she asked and he raised his eyebrows.

"Good."

She sensed that he was a little sulky so Maera thought it was best to distract her husband from his anger and instead continued to ask him about his friend.

"What did you talk about?"

"His life. My life."

She toyed with his fingers and lovingly ran her thumb over the back of his hand.

"Well, it seems like there wasn't a lot to talk about," she smiled but Daemon's face tensed.

"You're honestly surprised that I'm not in the mood to tell you about our conversation? After I've come back to find you dancing with another man? After I've told you not to do anything stupid."

She sighed and rested her hand on the side of his face.

"Daemon, we were only dancing. I love you and you only. I'm not interested in being close to anyone who's not you."

"Then why did you dance with him?" he hissed but then leaned down to kiss her forehead. This gesture made his niece smile because it hinted at the fact that he wasn't as angry with her as she had feared.

"He asked me and I didn't want to refuse after he saved me from Ser Cylvin Lannister. He was bothering me and I wanted to flee from the conversation with him which Lord Jakor noticed and so he stepped in."

"Cylvin Lannister?" Daemon spitted.

"Yes. He wouldn't leave me alone."

The rogue prince blared his teeth and threatingly looked around in the room.

"Where is he?"

But Maera, who most definitely didn't wish for any escalation tonight quickly grabbed his arm.

"It's fine, uncle. Really. Perhaps he has even left the feast already."

Daemon mumbled something she couldn't understand but seemed to let it go because his eyes wandered to Maera again. He chewed on his lips as if he intended to say something but changed his mind and just searchingly watched her.

"Should we go back to the table?" Maera asked after a while but Daemon didn't even twitch.

"Please, Daemon. You really are dramatising this."

Faster than she had been able to foresee it, his hand grabbed the side of her neck and he threatingly stroke her thin skin.

"Careful. You're forgetting yourself."

He lightly squeezed her throat but not so much that she was unable to speak.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and looked up to him under her lashes.

Daemon was satisfied with her answer and his hand wandered up to her cheek to soothingly caress her.

"Come," he then said shortly and started to make his way back to the table while pulling Maera with him.

Once Viserys spotted the couple she could see a crease between his eyes but she didn't have any time to think about it because she was already gently pushed to her chair which she took her seat on.

Daemon sat down as well and immediately poured some wine in his cup. And then after he had taken a sip he rested his hand on Maera's thigh; a possessive and owning gesture. He wanted to let everyone know that his niece wasn't their's to look at. She had always been his and just the thought of some lord lusting after his girl during the years of his exile when he hadn't been in king's landing to look after her made the blood in his veins boil. He would get her with child again, Daemon thought. So everyone would see that she was his alone and that they weren't to even think about her.

His hand on her thigh tightened and he knew that his nails digging in her flesh must hurt her but she didn't let anything show. Then his other hand took hold of her chin and he softly but firmly turned her head towards him.

"Look at me," he whispered and the image of Maera's big eyes made his cock swell. "You're mine."

She nodded, just a very slight and yet conscious movement.

"Yes. I'm yours."

In this moment he wished for nothing more than to be buried inside of her warm and inviting cunt and to pound into her until she was a whimpering mess underneath him. Make her eyes roll back, leave bite marks on her neck and feel her soft breasts in his hands. Toy with her nipples until they were hard.

Daemon dropped his hand from her cheek and the hand on her thigh left her body as well. Maera couldn't hide her displeasure and disappointingly waited for an explanation from her husband. But he just stared at the feast below with narrowed eyes while crossing his arms in front of him.

"What is it, uncle?" she asked but he fully ignored her which was why Maera sank back in her chair sulking for he didn't give her any further attention.

Viserys had only caught half of what was going on between his brother and daughter but now observed them with a furrowed brow. Neither Daemon nor Maera noticed him though so both just kept their eyes to the scene before their eyes until the rogue prince tilted his head to glare at his niece.

"We'll go back to our chambers now."

Maera wasn't thrilled and frowned at him.

"Can't we stay a little longer? I wanted to talk to my brother again."

"I said now," Daemon said quietly.

She exhaled loudly but obeyed and stood up abruptly. Swiftly the girl approached her father and kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight, father."

Viserys clearly was overwhelmed with all of the things happening around him but he had no choice but to nod and dismiss her. Then Daemon got off his chair as well and bowed his head.

"Goodnight, your grace."

3 minutes later the couple entered their chambers. They had only exchanged a few words during their short walk but now that they had their privacy again Daemon sighed deeply and took off his coat.

"Draining," he just spoke while Maera took out her earrings.

"What is?"

Her uncle scoffed and then sank down on a chair as if he had never been more exhausted.

"All of it. These false courtesies and everyone being nice to each other although they secretly hate each other."

Maera didn't answer him and instead concentrated on undoing her hairstyle. But then Daemon's voice cut through the air and she stopped in her motion.

"Come here."

She turned around and saw her husband with a challenging look on his face. Maera followed his order and walked towards him, not sure what he wanted of her.

"On my lap," he gave further instructions and she pulled up her dress and then let herself down the wrong way around on his thighs.

Daemon immediately pulled her closer by gripping her arse and shoving her until she was above his cock. She gasped out and grabbed his shoulders to steady herself.

"Someone's being a little jumpy, mhm?" he chuckled and then pushed the hem of her dress up until he had access to what he had been looking for. Her smallcloth still covered his absolute favourite part of her body but the picture of her parted thighs alone made him sigh in satisfaction and he felt his cock twitch.

Maera apprehensively watched her uncle who took his time in observing her but then his hand wandered between her legs and light as a feather he brushed over her slit with his pointer finger. He was so teasingly and slow that Maera could already sense in what direction this was heading so she closed her eyes and surpressed a moan.

"Please… No teasing," she pleaded and Daemon sarcastically lifted his eyebrows.

"Oh so you think you deserve to just come immediately? You think you don't deserve a bit of suffering?"

"I do," she whined because he had started to rub her pearl very lightly. It was torture because while she loved the attention on her throbbing bundle of nerves it only increased her desire and Daemon wasn't eager to fulfill her wish yet.

"But please just… Please don't tease me."

His finger flicked her pearl and Maera whimpered quietly. She needed him to properly stimulate her nub, seven hells. This was tormenting, she thought and wished she could close her legs just to get rid of some of the tension in her lower belly. But then just as she was about to complain again his thumb pressed into her pearl and he started to circle it with so much intensity that she choked on her breathing.

"Fuck," Maera pressed and her head dropped to her uncle's shoulder.

But Daemon let out a disapproving sigh and yanked her head back by grabbing a fistful of her hair.

"You will look at me, little one. You will look into my eyes when you come. Well… if you'll come."

He was evil, she declared in her head. But she loved it at the same time. His fingers were so skilled that she already after merely a couple of minutes felt like she wouldn't be able to even stand on her own. Let alone bring out a coherent sentence. He now used two of his fingers to rub her pearl and now and then enclosed it to gently squeeze it. To be able to smoothly caress her he collected her wetness that leaked from her hole and spread it all over her cunt.

His focus was her pearl for now because that was the quickest way to bring her close to her release and that was what he aimed for right now. Daemon knew her body so well; every twitch and shiver and moan was familiar and he knew exactly what to do, where to intensify the pressure and what patterns she preferred when he rubbed her nub. Soon Maera felt the tension in her thighs contradict but just when she expected the pleasure to roll over her and she was already relieved that he would let her finish Daemon stopped and his niece cried out.

"No, please. Please let me come."

She had grabbed the fabric of his shirt and pulled at it in order to bend him to her will. Little did she know that her uncle was evil-minded tonight.

"Oh sweet girl," he purred wrongly and caressed her cheek. "You will come when I allow it. And I'm not yet sure if I will allow it."

With these words he suddenly picked her up and carried her to the bed as if she weighed nothing. Daemon carefully threw her onto the bed well aware that she was already too weak to properly catch herself. She was sprawled out on the bed for him, her dress pulled up and her eyes fluttering. Daemon inspected her smugly and then climbed on the bed to hover over her.

"Open your eyes. I want you to look at me."

His gaze was so heated and full of lust, he was like a predator looking at his prey. Once she had obeyed him Daemon's hand parted her thighs and he continued his torture. He circled and rubbed, flicked and pulled at her pearl, sometimes quick, sometimes slow, at times with so much pressure that she jumped and other times so lightly and carefully that she wasn't even sure if it was his hand or a blow of the wind.

The tension was heavily hanging in the air and Maera had the indescripable urge to stretch her limbs. The only sound was her loud and hectic panting as well as the sound of the slickness between her legs.

Daemon's left hand that wasn't occupied with her cunt had pulled down her dress a little so he could see more of her skin. Her left breast was slightly exposed so his hand had started to trail patterns on the swell of her breast that felt like fire to Maera. It didn't take him long until he sensed that she was close again. It was the way her eyelids fluttered, her whines became more frequent and her back arched. He just stopped his touch before she could release and his niece cried out again, close to tears now.

"Please, Daemon, please… Please I just want to…"

He was utterly cold to her begging and wrongly cooed her when he noticed the wetness in her eyes.

"Oh babygirl… There's no need to cry. Am I not taking such good care of your little cunt? She likes it so much, doesn't she?"

She was shaking but managed to nod.

"Y-Yes… but please…"

Her uncle cut her off by leaning down and kissing her trembling lips. In the meantime his hand came back to her pearl once more and he continued his evil play. Her moans and whimpers were smothered by his mouth but her hands clutched tightly at his muscular arms.

Daemon had obviously grown more eager and desireful as well so he finally managed to undress her so that her breasts and nipples were bare on display for him and he trailed his finger over her small chest. Additionally to the stimulation between her legs Daemon now also toyed with her nipples and Maera felt like exploding every second. He couldn't do it again, he couldn't deny her again. Despite feeling so powerless a voice in her head foresaw what might happen now and forced her to open her mouth.

"P-Please uncle…," she breathed quietly.

Daemon kissed her neck which left red marks while slowing his movement down until he eventually stopped and Maera was yet another orgasm denied. Now there were actually tears spilling from the corner of her eyes and she uncontrollably sobbed beneath him. He acted all pitiful but she knew better than to misinterpret it as that. He was the one making her feel that way after all and when Daemon leaned down to steal another kiss she tilted her head so that his lips landed on her cheek. Additionally a complaining sound escaped her mouth but then he forcefully turned her head to his liking by gripping her chin. He eventually got what he liked and savoured the taste of her pink lips while touching her all over her chest and collarbone.

Meanwhile Maera continued to pull at his shirt and pushed at his arms which Daemon ignored at first but then he growled dangerously and took both her wrists in one of his big hands and pinned them down above her head. She squirmed and shifted and lifted her hips to get closer to him and perhaps release herself of the tightness in her core but Daemon just firmly pressed her down.

"Mhmm," she mumbled against his mouth, clearly an attempt to ask him for more. That made him stop and he broke away from her lips. Instead he now traced her swollen lips with his thumb and watched her smugly.

"Aren't you such a little whore between the sheets? You know that this is not the kind of behaviour fit for a noblewoman. You're supposed to take what I give you, look pretty and keep your little mouth shut. Instead here you are whining and begging and asking me for more."

He shoved two of his fingers inside of her mouth and Maera moaned in surprise.

"You're a slut. A dirty pathetic slut who's so fucking eager to get her holes stuffed. It's embarrassing."

He pushed his fingers deeper until he hit the back of her throat and his niece choked.

"Yes, that's right. Do you wanna cry for me? Feel free to." He fucked her mouth with his fingers and made sure to keep her on the edge by brushing over her pearl every now and then. All of her senses were so overstimulated that she soon actually started to cry again but Daemon just kissed her tears away.

"You look so fucking pretty for me like this," he groaned in her ear while Maera struggled to take his fingers that continuously pushed deep inside of her mouth making her gag.

After a few more minutes he removed them again and she hiccuped a few times which made him smirk. Her face was red and sweat covered her forehead and the crying had made her eyes swollen. Now his finger left her nub as well and Maera looked up to him with submissive eyes. She couldn't even bring herself to beg him again because what good would it do? He wanted to make her suffer and no pleas of words out of her mouth would change his mind.

She almost didn't realized what he was doing at first but then she saw how Daemon removed his pants and breeches and his cock stood hard against his stomach. There was precum leaking from its tip which he collected with his hand and brought it to Maera's mouth. Obediently she licked his hand clean and Daemon contendly grinned. But then his hand suddenly reached out to the back of her head and he yanked her back so her neck was exposed.

"You want your cunt to get fucked?" he hissed and with the space he granted her, she nodded. "Want me to spread you open, mhm?"

Maera let out a yearning whine and then he actually brought his tip to her cunt. He pressed it against her throbbing and pulsating pearl which almost made her cry out but then he was fast to circle her entrance and then entered her.

These first few seconds were perhaps his favourite moment when he was fucking his wife, apart from releasing inside of her of course. When he felt the tightness of her cunt and the way her walls pulsated around him; when he stretched her open and Maera's eyes were big as coins. He panted heavily and then without giving her a second to adjust he started to pound into her. She would be able to take it, Daemon was certain. He didn't want to hurt her too much but it would be good for her to feel a little bit of uncomfortability. He cupped her breast with his right hand while his left held the side of her face.

"Taking me so well, babygirl… S'that want you want, mhm? Getting your slutty hole fucked like a common whore?"

She whined and threw her head to the side but Daemon wanted to hear her voice so he tilted her head. "Say it."

"Y-Yes… I want it, oh fuck…," Maera cried.

"Oh yeah I see how you enjoy it. Just like you enjoyed Lord Jakor's attention, didn't you, wife?"

She couldn't bring herself to answer him despite figuring that his anger about the situation at the feast would only reduce her chances of finishing.

"Did you enjoy his attention? Do you like it when men look at you like that? Is my admiration alone not enough for you, little niece?"

Maera bit her lip and wrapped her arms around his back bringing him closer to her.

"I-It is enough, D-Daemon… I-I only want your attention…," she managed to tell him eventually.

"Is that so?" he growled against her cheek and then his mouth wandered south to press kisses to her chin and neck. Well, at first they had only been kisses but soon he sucked on the soft and delicate skin of her neck in order to bruise and mark her. At times he used his teeth as well and bit her softly. Firm enough so she would have bite marks but not so much that she was in real pain.

"I'm gonna let them see," he growled while delivering sharp thrusts into her core.

"Gonna let them see that you're mine. If it's not enough I'm gonna fill you again with my see and make you all swollen with my child. Maybe that way the whole court, all those lords who lust after you will see who owns you, whose baby you're carrying and who fucks your pretty little cunt every night. I'm gonna show them that you're mine. My niece, my wife and mother of my children. And my little fuck toy to dump my seed into."

Maera felt her eyes rolling back at his words and gasped when his teeth dug into her flesh once more. The sting brought tears to her eyes but it was the good kind of pain, the kind that made her long for more. She was still craving a release though and just wished that her uncle would finally set an end to her suffering but he was busy fucking into her and marking her neck.

"Please, uncle," Maera pressed and her shivering hands gripped the sheets next to her.

"You wanna come?" he whispered and she was almost too scared that he would deny her her release again to answer him.

But then suddenly she felt his finger on her pearl again and the feeling was so intense that she thought she was going to come right on the spot. His deep and forceful thrusts in combination with the pleasure her bundle of nerves was receiving drove her closer and closer to the edge and Maera clung to the sheets as though her life was depending on it.

Soon Daemon noticed how close his niece was but this time to her suprise he didn't stop and the waves of pleasure washed over her. It was even more powerful because she hadn't expected it. Maera had assumed that he would stop once more and tease and edge her until she would pass out and so when the tension in her belly exploded she let out a surprised cry and arched her back. Her whole body was shaking and Maera helplessly searched for Daemon's body to hold on to him.

He didn't stop his thrusts into her cunt and neither did his hand leave her pearl. That was why once she had come down from her high her body twitched under his movement and it felt uncomfortable. She was overstimulated and now she squirmed to get away from him rather than seeking for more. Daemon noticed her attempts and laughed about it.

"Someone's getting a little overwhelmed, isn't that right?"

She looked at him with big eyes that started to fill with tears again.

"Does it hurt?"

She nodded and sniffed but Daemon didn't stop. He just continued what he was doing until eventually her cunt seemed to have recovered slightly and she found his touch welcoming again. That was only until he made her come a second time, this time by flicking and enclosing her pearl with his fingers. Maera moaned loudly and when he still kept up his assault on her center she threw her head to the side and pushed against his chest.

"Please stop… Please it hurts so badly, Daemon."

He pursed his lips and stroke her hair.

"Shhh babygirl… You can take it. I know you can."

She desperately shifted her hips and tried to close her legs around his hand. No, she couldn't. She couldn't take it, it was too much. Her body was on fire only that this time it was in a negative way. His fingers made her uncontrollably tremble and her core was so swollen and overstimulated that she already knew she wouldn't be able to walk after this. His thrusts were simply too forceful and rough.

"Stop, uncle. Please… It's too much, I can't…," she pleaded and Daemon bit her neck painfully before bringing his face to her level again and grabbing her chin.

"Shut your mouth. You will take it because I want you to. Here you were begging me to let you come the past 30 minutes and now I let you and you're still not satisfied. Don't give me those tears now. I won't stop until I'm content and I'm not sure how long that will be. And if you don't want to lose your voice you better shut your mouth and be glad that I haven't stuffed your dirty mouth with my cock."

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss @coffeebooksrain18 @aleemendoza2425-blog @chiminies-noona

[autonomousroboticorganism]

Prime and Protector (TF One Sentinel Prime)

Pairing - Sentinel Prime x F!Prime!Reader

summary - you're the smallest Prime, and the nicest to Sentinel. the two of you develop a close bond as the other Primes treat you like any other Cybertronian because of your size, and you fall for the only bot who still puts you on a pedestal

warnings - slight angst but mostly fluff, neglect from the Primes, a bit suggestive?

a/n - sorry not sorry, i am obsessed with this maniac

Primes were known to be massive beings, significantly taller than most Cybertronians. It was a symbol of their power and prestige, as well as their leadership over the citizens of Cybertron.

However, there was one Prime who wasn't quite as big.

You were the same height as Sentinel, who wasn't even a Prime, and you had a very slender frame. So you looked like any other Cybertronian, which is why the other Primes often treated you like such. They often left you out, "forgetting" to call you to meetings and you wouldn't even know about half of them if it hadn't been for Sentinel.

"My lady."

You were in your berthroom prepping your weapon for your next encounter with the Quintessons, when Sentinel appeared at your door. He knocked politely, giving you a smile he reserved only for you.

You couldn't help but smile back, being very fond of the advisor, "Come in, Sentinel. I assume there's another meeting?"

"Yes", he nodded, stepping into your berthroom for the first time.

He considered this progress in his relationship with you. You were the nicest of all the Primes, the one who treated him the best. He liked you the most, and maybe that was transitioning into something more...romantic. So you letting him into your berthroom gave him some hope that you at least liked him, if not felt for him what he felt for you.

Maybe one day.

You ex-vented heavily, "Okay. I'll be there soon."

He noticed your apprehension, "Is something the matter?"

It wasn't any of his business, but recently you'd grown a lot closer to him as you grew distant from your fellow Primes.

"I grow weary of my brethren," you admitted to him. "I am practically invisible to them; they don't ever see me."

He responded with something so bold he would never have thought of uttering it in your presence had it not been for you allowing him into your private space.

"I see you."

You offered him a small smile, "I know you do, my sweet advisor."

His words had a much bigger impact on you than he realised, and this was the start of the road to becoming his sparkmate. This was the point at which you realised you saw him as more than an advisor, more than a friend. And even though you held a higher status, you didn't feel ashamed about it.

"You must be exhausted, my lady."

You returned from another skirmish with the invaders, feeling exactly that, to see Sentinel standing outside your berthroom with a plate of fresh energon.

You smiled, and your faceplates heated up at how attentive he was, "Thank you, Sentinel. But you were there too, you should also get some rest."

None of the other Primes would have thought to suggest that he rest as well. And that only made him want to care for you more.

"I insist," he moved the plate closer to you. "Once you are replenished, I will take my leave to...rest." He said that hesitantly, because you both knew the other Primes would just put him back to work.

You offered him a tired smile and beckoned him into your berthroom once again, "Then at least share the energon with me. That's far too much for me alone."

Sentinel was stunned by the offer, and also flustered. For the first time, it was you making his faceplates heat up rather than the other way around.

"Are you sure, my lady?"

"Mhm," you nodded, then laughed, "Oh and please, stop calling me 'my lady'. You can use my name, you know."

"But that would be-"

"I insist," you settled on your berth. "You've earned it."

The permission to use your name made him buzz with excitement, but also nervousness. That seemed almost too kind of you, but then again he was alone with you...in your berthroom...sharing a plate of energon with you.

"Sentinel," you laughed again, "Relax. Sit down."

He didn't realise how tense he was, but as he sat down across from you he felt himself relax. You being so casual around him was, surprisingly, putting him at ease.

Sentinel admired you a lot. He often found himself unable to look away from you, the most beautiful femme he had ever laid optics on. But now, in the comfort of your berthroom, looking so relaxed, there was a different kind of beauty about you. A beauty that transcended physical appearance, and that was hard to ignore.

He didn't know how to explain it.

Your faceplates burned when you caught sight of him staring. You were speechless for a moment at the look in his optics. Far more than just respect and admiration, there was something deeper in them. Something far more...intimate.

"Power down with me," you found yourself saying, unable to believe those words yourself.

His optics widened, "My lady-"

"(Name)," you corrected, moving closer to him as if possessed.

"My lady," he insisted, struggling to deny your request to call you by name. "I don't think it would be appropriate-"

"Sentinel, please."

And then you were kissing him.

You had surged forward and closed the distance between you two, smashing your dermas against his. Locking you two in a passionate kiss in that awkward position, both of you with your legs hanging over separate sides of the bed but upper bodies turned to face one another.

You kissed him hungrily, like you were starved.

And Sentinel kissed back.

You could have done this forever, it felt so good. But Sentinel seemed to regain his senses midway, and suddenly pulled away from you. Though he found it extremely difficult to do so.

"Sentinel?" You questioned, confused. "Did I misunderstand..?"

"No, Primus no," he vented, "I'll see you tomorrow, my lady."

He got up quickly and left, leaving you confused and slightly hurt. Feeling just a little bit rejected by the one bot you thought wanted you.

The next day you noticed Sentinel doing his best to avoid you. Unlike before, if you didn't need him he wouldn't be with you. And that hurt even more, because you missed his company and you missed his attentiveness.

You closed yourself off, spending your spare time in your berthroom, thinking of various strategies and tactics - distracting yourself the only way you knew how.

"My lady-"

"What do you want, Sentinel?" You grit your dentae, words coming out cold and harsh.

He flinched at your tone, having never heard you speak to him like that before, "I would like to apologise."

"For what? Avoiding me or leading me on?" You laughed coldly.

"I wasn't-" He paused, then, "I just didn't think the other Primes would approve."

"And what do I care for their approval?" You hissed, "All they've ever done is ignore me, so I don't think they would even notice. Even if they did, my choice of sparkmate is my own."

"I apologise," he answered softly. "I didn't realise."

And just like that, you forgave him. Just like that, your anger and hurt disappeared. You looked up at him, standing awkwardly in the doorway and shuffling his weight nervously. He looked so cute, it was just so hard to stay mad.

"Come here."

He followed your gentle command, approaching you slowly. You stood up from your berth, excited at the idea of having him close again.

"Can I..?"

"Please."

His servos ghosted over your hip plating before grabbing your waist and pulling you forward to rest against him.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he admitted, "I want you, (Name) Prime."

"Leave the Prime out," you mumbled bashfully.

He chuckled and stared at you for a moment, "Are you sure?"

You knew he wasn't asking about your name, but you were still certain of your answer, "Yes. I want you too, Sentinel."

That night he spent in your berthroom was intimate, the most intimate and special experience either of you had ever had. Your sparks were laid bare for one another, and you ended up sealing your bond with way more than just a kiss.

[wickedsmille]

batman, robin, sentient super suits, oh my! part 3

Ta~ da~! Part 3 and done. (Here's Part 1 and Part 2, if ya want.) It didn't go exactly as I wanted but when I went back to rewrite part of it I couldn't make myself do it so. Welp, it is what it is. But, here we go -

---------

A little while later, Tim yelps from his side of the bed. Jason’s head whips around to see what the commotion is, bumping shoulders with Tim who has also hastily sat up.

Craning his neck, Jason looks down over the side of the bed to where Tim is staring, dumbfounded. All he sees is Tim’s bag, open with the Red Robin costume on top. Sort of strange since leaving their gear out in the open isn’t exactly Bat-protocol. No telling when a nosy or distracted maid might barge in. Otherwise, nothing is amiss. Color Jason confused.

“What the fuck,” Tim breathes as he scoots further back till he’s half in Jason’s lap which, awesome, but weird.

“What?” Jason snaps. 

Over the side of the bed, the sleeve of the Red Robin suit snakes up and slaps down hard on Tim’s wrist near the edge of the bed. He makes a high noise of surprise then he’s fully in Jason’s lap. Still awesome, very much so, but bigger fish to fry and everything. Such as the irrefutable proof that Red Robin has gained the nebulous honor of having a mind of its own. And it’s apparently not very happy with Tim if the way it snaps out to hit him again is any indication. This time, Tim pulls his hand back before he can get slapped.

“How-” Tim chokes out, whipping his head around to stare at Jason.

Their faces are so damned close Jason can feel the too fast puffs of Tim’s breath against his cheek. It’s doing him absolutely no favors in staying focused on the issue at hand. 

Tim’s eyes narrow. “Did you do something to it?”

“Me? That thing was totally normal until you got a hold of it. What did you do to it?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Un-fucking-likely!”

A pitter patter of sound draws both of them away from the edge of their budding argument. Back at the side of the bed, the Red Robin suit is padding its sleeves against the blanket to draw their attention. Guess it didn’t like where their conversation was headed. 

“Oh yeah, that thing is totally alive,” Jason says. 

“No” Tim drawls sarcastically. He frowns at the suit. A flash of understanding brightens his face as his mouth drops open. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

“Mind cluing in us pea brained peons?”

Without looking, Tim hits Jason in the chest with the back of his hand. “All the malfunctions!”

Tim doesn’t need to say anything else for Jason to pick up what he’s laying down. The events of the past few weeks make a lot more sense now. Including their current predicament which has led to a lap full of dressed down, sleep warm Tim. Touche, Red Robin, well done. He has to hand it to the suit. Red Hood is all overt action with very little subtly but Red Robin had completely flown under his radar. Even yelling at it earlier was based more on a vague hunch.

“I’m glad I hollered at it earlier then.”

Tim’s eyes snap back to him, incredulous and amused. “You were talking to an inanimate object?”

“First of all, it isn’t inanimate any more. Second, don’t act like you’ve never talked at something before.”

Tellingly, Tim stays silent. 

“Look at it this way, you’ve been chosen,” Jason says with a shrug. “Better than, I guess, since you brought the fuckin’ thing to life.”

Tim does this odd thing where he goes boneless. As in he falls limp against Jason’s chest with his head resting on Jason’s shoulder. For a second, he’s worried something is wrong. Tim wouldn’t be Tim if he weren’t wound tighter than a spring. He’s the most neurotic sonuvabitch Jason knows. To have him so soft and pliant? It’s kind of throwing him for a loop.

Looking down at Tim’s face, Jason’s worries bleed away. The content, gentle happiness he finds there, only a thin thread of bitter sadness belying it, tells Jason all he needs to know. Once more, because he’s just that good, Jason has stuck his foot in his mouth. Except in a good way this time. 

Thinking back, Tim told him what it was like when he was first Robin. It sure as hell hadn’t felt good when Robin didn’t want anything to do with him. He can’t imagine what it was like for Tim to have to actively fight against the suit. To push and push and push till he was finally, reluctantly accepted. Only to be dropped and have nothing waiting for him, ready for him. The lonely ache of wondering if he’s good enough and that’s why a suit doesn’t come for him. Needing to push past all that, piled on top of the long hours and endless horrors the nightlife brings, and keep on keepin’ on. 

But Jason has pointed out the obvious which he doesn’t doubt Tim completely overlooked. In agreement, Red Robin raises its sleeve and points at Jason.

“Oh,” Tim breathes. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Me neither. Way to make history.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “But I don’t get it. Why do all of this?”

Once more, Red Robin pointedly gestures towards Jason. He glares at the damn thing because if anyone needs to shut up, it’s Red Robin. Given the genuine curiosity and bafflement in Tim’s voice, Jason’s pretty sure he’s not being purposefully obtuse. Granted, Tim can lie with the best of them, the little scamp. Jason has been meaning to get a few lessons. His gut is telling him this isn’t one of those times. Tim really doesn’t get it and Jason would like it to stay that way until he can either nut up and confess or brutally murder the impulse to fuck him raw at the first opportunity.

“No idea,” Jason replies lightly.

On his side of the bed, Jason’s bag wiggles violently. He groans and clenches his jaw, unwilling to let Red Hood enter the chat. This is a recipe for disaster. Adding in his suit won’t help him in keeping his inconvenient crush under wraps. For all he knows, Red Robin and Red Hood have been colluding together to make this shit happen. 

“What,” Tim starts before trailing off. 

The stare he pins Jason down with is so intense and invasive Jason feels like he needs to shove Tim off and disappear for a few months. It’s something akin to being flayed alive. His eyes skitter across Jason’s face, breaking him down bit by bit without needing to say a word or lift a finger. Really, Jason should get Tim away from him before he peels away the last layers keeping Jason from being truly perceived. 

Lightning quick and catching Jason unaware, Tim lunges across him to drape himself over Jason’s side of the bed. With deft fingers, he yanks open Jason’s bag. There the Red Hood is in all its glory, helmet on top of a bundle of heavy padding and armor. The lights on the eyes flash and Tim blinks down at it. 

“Hey, now!” Jason chides, dipping down so he can shut the bag before the shit show starts.

He doesn’t get that far before he’s getting full-on backhanded by the sleeve of his own suit. Wow, the suits are being aggressive. He’s not even sure what to do so he tenses up and stares at the wall. There’s enough semtex in the bag to blow it all to hell, right? He could totally ask Alfred to call up Lucius for a new suit. If Tim can finagle a consciousness into a regular suit, Jason should be able to as well. Maybe the next one won’t be such an asshole. Though he doubts it. On all counts.

He doesn’t remember if actually brought any plastique. Lucius isn’t exactly itching to do Jason any favors and Alfred would be more likely to politely mock him for doing something as stupid as blowing up his own suit. There’s no way for them to know how Red Robin is Red Robin now. And he’s, admittedly, a major asshole so it only makes sense whatever suit gets stuck with him has a personality to match. 

Tim bops the helmet and scowls at it. “Rude.” Red Hood doesn’t hit Tim. Instead, it pats him on the cheek gently. “Much better,” Tim says, satisfied.

Jason gapes at the interaction. “That is so unfair. What the fuck!”

“I told you things went well when I covered for you.”

“Apparently. Maybe a little too well.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It seemed like the Red Hood lik-”

Flipping over so his ass is seated in the well of Jason’s legs, back arched over his thigh, Tim looks at Jason. Jason doesn’t like the way Tim is looking at him. It’s less wondering and more knowing. So he does what he does best and tries to push Tim off him. They’ve been too close to too long and the need to run is an overwhelming compulsion at this point. Like a goddamn lamprey, Tim winds his arms around Jason’s waist and holds fast. The guy doesn’t go anywhere despite Jason’s best efforts since he isn’t in a position to get the leverage he needs to pry Tim off.

“You like me,” Tim says simply.

Jason chokes as the bottom of his stomach falls out. “No, I don’t,” Jason denies.

His helmet makes a high pitched whine of protest like the voice modulator got hit with a current and fried the circuitry. Goddamn, he thinks he even hears a click from one of his guns. Red Hood is a straight up thug. Which Jason loves but, holy hell, right now he definitely doesn’t. Being bullied by what amounts to a souped up, military grade Call of Duty cosplay hits him right in his pride. Forget Bruce and the clusterfuck of that whole thing, this is his new villain origin story. 

Red Robin isn’t so charmed by his denial either. The suit flops onto the bed, farther up this time, so it can nail him right in the shin. Jason makes a pained noise more from being startled than it actually hurting. If the blanket weren’t draped over his legs, then, yeah, that would’ve stung. Great, now, he’s being bullied by the equivalent of a theater major seamstress’ fever dream too. When will the injustices end?

Throwing his hands up, literally because he’s so far past settling for metaphorically doing it, Jason looks to the ceiling and prays for patience. And to not get socked in the jaw by Tim for what he’s about to say. Still, to the pock-marked ceiling, Jason says, “Fine, yes, I like you! Jesus, fuck, everybody lay offa me! This is the worst kind of peer pressure. At least I could cunt punt a peer but no. I get some goddamn JoAnn Fabric cast offs harassing me.”

“And me,” Tim pipes up.

“And you! Which, can’t we focus on the miracle of your suit showing signs of intelligent, manipulative and kind-of-dickish life? Let’s go back to you getting misty eyed over a newly minted supernatural costume.”

“We’ll come back to that,” Tim agrees, “but first we should probably deal with this. Just, Jason...”

Well, shit, he doesn’t like Tim’s tone. It’s not the voice of a man about to lay his heart bare in preparation for an emotionally charged conversation destined to end in a heated kiss and a roll in the sack before the camera cuts to black. Nor is it shy and demure or happy and accepting. Jason doesn’t want to put a name to it but, if he had to, he’d say Tim sounds distinctly awkward and uncomfortable. Hesitant and pained. This does not bode well for his chances. He can already smell the acrid, sharp scent of his chances going up in flames. 

“There’s a lot between us,” Tim says somewhere around the bottom of Jason’s ribcage. “That we’ve never talked about.” Now Tim pulls away fully until he’s back on his side of the bed.

Jason knows a let down when he hears one. He opens his mouth to tell Tim to can it, spare them both the continued embarrassment. On some level, Jason always knew anything between them would be doomed. Forget burning the bridge between himself and Tim, Jason incinerated it. With prejudice. The fact they’ve come so far already is a miracle. It’s the little, emaciated street kid in him that makes him greedy, to take and take and take until he can’t anymore. Well, this is the can’t anymore, he guesses. But now he’ll lose it all. 

The words are there on the tip of his tongue when his helmet makes another whirring, whining noise of protest on one side of the bed and there’s the pat, pat, pat of fabric against fabric on the other. His head whips between the Red Hood, disgruntled and displeased, and Red Robin attacking Tim’s leg much as it had Jason. Tim quickly scoots back towards Jason and pulls his legs in. In response, Red Robin flops onto the bed again and nails Tim right across the face. 

Jason has never claimed to be a good person so he laughs. “Okay, I’m starting to feel fuckin’ hunted here. I get why they’re coming at me but-”

He breaks off since there’s no point in finishing the sentence. Tim is a genius. Point blank, period. It’s a verifiable fact Jason hates and likes in equal measure. If his big brain can’t piece together a puzzle, Jason doesn’t stand a chance but by no means is he a slouch. For this, understanding why Red Robin and Red Hood are coming at Tim just as hard as they are at him, Jason doesn’t need a three digit IQ. 

“You little shit, you like me too,” Jason accuses, honestly mad Tim was about to dismiss him out of hand. 

Tim doesn’t say anything which is answer enough for Jason. Not for Red Robin who whips out at Tim again, making him curl up tighter and away from the offending garment. Or offended garment, in this case. 

“I’m bad at this,” Tim hisses to his suit. “God, why are you so-”

“Oddly violent?”

“Persistent,” Tim insists, glaring at Jason. 

Jason fixes him with a look.

“And a manipulative asshole,” Jason supplies but he isn’t talking about Tim’s suit anymore.

“I’m bad at this,” Tim says again, this time directly to Jason.

“Tim.”

“Jason.”

Red Robin and Red Hood voice their displeasure as much as they can.

Rolling his eyes, Jason talks at the ceiling again because it’s easier. “Why wouldn’t you just say that? Okay, you’re bad at it, fine. I literally paved the way for you to just say ‘Golly gee, me too’.”

“I’m awkward, okay?” Tim blurts, irritated and not bothering to pull on his usual carefully crafted mask of indifference. “I’m not exactly the greatest when it comes to interpersonal relationships. You can just ask Steph.” After a brief pause, Tim backpedals, “Actually, don’t. Never do that.”

“Well now I have to.”

“You really, really don’t.”

“Maybe if you’d stop being such a coward-”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” Jason says maturely.

Jason should’ve known the kiss was coming as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Not once has Jason seen Tim back down from a challenge once it has been set down in front of him. Including the time Jason gave him a spectacular beat down in Titans Tower and demanded to know if Tim thought he was good enough for Robin. Half unconscious and bloodied, Tim had said yes. 

This isn’t so different, Jason thinks, because he kisses back, brutal and vicious and commanding, while Tim takes it all then dishes it back. More than once, Jason’s teeth clack against Tim’s but neither of them pull away. Somewhere between now and Jason’s head emptying of rational thought, his hand has found its way to the back of Tim’s neck, keeping him in place. He doesn’t have to worry about Tim pulling away, not really, with the way Tim holds onto Jason’s waist.

The world drops away till there’s nothing but the soft, barely there moans Tim breathes into him. He swallows them greedily, vows to get more of them till he’s had his fill. His other hand, the one not latched onto Tim, finds Tim’s thigh and kneads at the muscle there. One of Tim’s hands slides down and skirts along the edge of his shirt till it teasingly slips under the fabric. The rough, calloused pads of Tim’s fingers ghost over his stomach, making the muscles twitch. 

It all comes back into focus, hitting him like a freight train, when the hand on Tim’s leg can’t wander any farther up than it already has even though he knows he’s nowhere near his ultimate end goal. Cracking open his eyes, Jason looks down to see Red Robin forming a blockade to preserve Tim’s chastity. Red Robin doesn’t get to mastermind them into a bed together then dictate what they do when Tim’s making those encouraging, willing little noises.

Leaning back to catch his breath, Jason reluctantly lets go of Tim’s leg and scruffs the Red Robin suit then tosses it over the side of the bed with a growl. 

“That was uncalled for,” Tim tells him.

“You want me to stop?” Jason asks.

“No. Very much no.”

“Then it was called for,” Jason asserts. 

“Fair enough,” Tim laughs. He huffs as his eyes dart from one side of the bed to the other. “It’d be weird to do anything with the suits here though.”

“They literally fondle us on a nightly basis. I think their definition of propriety is a little different from ours,” Jason points out. 

Looking thoughtful, Tim says, “Huh, I knew the Red Hood suit was chafing weird when I wore it.”

Leaning over, Jason slaps his helmet and shoves his bag under the bed. “Goddamn dirty dog, keep your kevlar weave off.” 

The Red Hood doesn’t make a peep or put up any protest. Jason doubts it’s because the suit wore itself out being more active than usual. Stupid thing probably doesn’t have a good counter argument, having been caught out and ruthlessly thrown under the bus by Tim. 

“In its defense, it really made things easy and protected me well. It was, sweet, too, I guess?” Tim offers.

“Well, good,” Jason replies lamely. “Can’t say the same about Red Robin,” he adds with a glare at Tim’s side of the bed where Red Robin is hopefully puddled on the ground and content to stay there.

Meddlers, the both of them. Grade A meddlers of the highest order. 

“Yeah,” Tim says contemplatively. 

To poke the bruise one more time, Jason tells him, “Yanno, the suit’s probably something special because you’re something special.”

The sappy ass words make Jason feel like the world’s biggest tool but it’s worth it for the instant flush. His cheeks and ears and neck all go a delicious pink that Jason wants to bite at. Take the light dusting and make it vibrant. Create a portrait of deep reds and purples wherever he can. Jason thinks he’ll get the chance to do that sooner than expected when Tim tackles him. After a brief scuffle, Jason rolls them so Tim’s under him with his wrists pinned and legs draped on either side of Jason’s hips. Tim could get out of the hold. Jason isn’t trying to really keep him down. 

But Tim doesn’t. 

He allows it which is enough for Jason to settle his weight over Tim and forget about the busy body suits probably basking in smug satisfaction for getting them to this point.

[gothsoyl]

┊┊┊⁺ ⁺ DECEMBER CHALLENGE

"A treatment" +18

lenny busker x reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: you're in a mental hospital because of your anxiety and panic attacks. she's your... you don't know how to call her. maybe she's your buddy here since she was the first who offered you some kind of comfort. she lets you take her dessert and listen to music in her headphones.

to be honest, you didn't see any point in going to a psychiatric hospital. you were just a little anxious... just a couple of panic attacks a month. that's not a cause for concern, is it? for a while, you really thought that's what most people face.

it wasn't until things got worse that you finally listened to your psychiatrist's persuasions. he said it would be better this way. he said they'd help you there. and you agreed.

but did you have any other choice? your anxiety didn't really allow you to work, and you were afraid to go outside for fear of another panic attack. not to mention that you were also afraid to be at home, because if you had a panic attack, you would be left alone.

everything was strange in the psychiatric hospital – there were strange people here, even those who were treated here laughed at. and you felt sorry for them, even though you couldn't help them.

one of the first days, you were sitting in the cafeteria for lunch. a man in a wheelchair is sitting in front of you, viscous saliva is flowing from his mouth, and no matter how disgusting this sight might be, you couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes away and start eating.

and, let’s just say, you didn't have much appetite after that.

“oh my God.”

you flinch when you suddenly hear a woman's voice next to you. you didn't even notice how she sat next to you.

“what do you think he ate that makes his saliva so viscous?”

you swallow nervously and look first at the man and then at the woman next to you. she's tapping out a strange rhythm with her fingers on the cassette player and looking at you with a strange twinkle in her eyes, and everything inside you is sinking with panic.

and what should you tell her? you don't want to seem weird or anything... but is it weird at all to try to look normal in a psychiatric hospital? 

“I don't know...” you finally shrug and look at the cherry pie on the table. for some reason, you feel strangely embarrassed next to her, and the man opposite has long since left your thoughts.

“are you going to finish eating, or should I continue talking about his saliva?” the girl puts her hand on the table and supports her cheek with it, looking at you at the same time so attentively and so indifferently.

you're about to nod, but you glance at her headphones and cassette player.

“if you let me listen to music,” a slight smile touches your lips and the girl opposite laughs loudly and pretentiously, and you already think that you have said too much. but the she finally calms down and takes off her headphones, putting them on the table along with the player. you chuckle and slide her a plate with a piece of pie, concluding your agreement.

***

lenny busker.

you learned her name after a couple of weeks of your communication. for some reason, every time you asked what her name was, she changed the subject, or told you to call her whatever you wanted. 

It pissed you off, but you didn't really argue. you loved her company after all.

she was funny and constantly calmed you down when you had a panic attack – she just sat next to you and when you felt a little better, she gave you her headphones and turned on some old song that you hadn't heard in a hundred years.

you felt better with her. It's like everything was really okay with you, even if you're both not quite “normal.”

***

one night you woke up to the creaking of your own bed. you immediately tensed up, feeling a sudden wave of anxiety, and tried to get up to see what was going on, but immediately felt someone's hand on your shoulder and a quiet, familiar whisper, “shh... it's just me.”

you immediately freeze, not knowing what to do or how to behave.

“what are you doing here?” you ask quietly as she did and want to look at her, but she squeezes your shoulder harder, not allowing you to turn around. your throat gets dry and you don't even know what's going on. so many bad thoughts fill your head, but you try to get rid of them, telling yourself that lenny would never hurt you.

you lick your lower lip when her free hand wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to her. her hot body is pressed against your back and she leans so close that you can feel her breath on your skin.

“I just decided to check if you were okay,” her voice is saturated with playfulness and she gently bites your earlobe, making you shudder unconsciously. 

“I'm fine,” you say, and your whole face starts to burn red with shame and excitement. you're not entirely sure that your psychiatrist was talking about it when he sent you to a mental institution.

“I see,” lenny hums, and her lips slowly slide over your neck, leaving wet kisses, “just relax and we'll start the treatment.”

you can feel your body slowly starting to relax under lenny's gentle and assertive touches, even if your brain is still sounding the alarm. you're used to it – your brain is always on alert and afraid of everything, even if it's something minor or something you've done a hundred times before. It pisses you off. you're tired, so you don't resist.

you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought about what it would be like to kiss lenny. you're lying if you say you don't want her at a time when you can literally feel her heartbeat.

you close your eyes and try to push away the annoying thoughts. a sigh escapes your lips when lenny's fingers get under your t-shirt, scratching the delicate skin with her nails and squeezing your breast until it aches pleasantly. her lips are still exploring your neck, leaving barely noticeable hickeys and biting in some places only to run her tongue later.

your body shudders as she slowly pulls off your panties and the cool air touches your bare skin. lenny just grunts and nuzzles your hair at the back of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I could do this for days on end...”

she laughs low, her fingers moving between your folds, collecting all the moisture, and you just bite your lip, trying not to moan at her every touch. you'd like to answer her, but you're afraid it might be louder than you planned. and the last thing you want is for the paramedics to come running at the noise and find you like this.

“come on...” you squeeze out such weak words, but it's enough for lenny, who slowly begins to insert her fingers into you, teasing and not letting you fully feel her. you move your hips, trying to speed up the process, but she doesn't let you – she presses you to the bed with her free hand and continues to tease. her movements are slow and measured, and you're one second away from begging her. 

“please, lenny...” you whimper, burying your face in the pillow, your own fingers grab the blanket out of desperation, and only then do you begin to feel the brutal thrusts. lenny whispers something in your ear, but you can't make out what it is.

you feel too good at this moment and you don't have a single thought in your head. just lenny's fingers, stretching you from the inside out, forcing you to grab the pillow with your teeth just to keep from moaning.

the bed starts to creak even more, and you move your hips towards it, before your walls contract for the last time, hugging lenny's fingers and your body begins to tremble from orgasm. you're breathing fast and hard, and your legs are still shaking from everything that happened, even after lenny pulls his fingers out of you with a wet sound.

she doesn't press you to the bed anymore, but even so, you can't turn to her – the treatment went so well that you no longer have the strength.

only for the second session.

[httpsdana]

Maybe one for Xavi where he gets you name tattooed on his chest and you notice in when your in bed and he’s shirtless

Signed and Sealed~Xavi Simons

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

y/n and Xavi were sprawled on his bed, wrapped in a shared blanket as the two of them attempted to watch a movie.

Well, she was trying to watch it—Xavi, as usual, had other ideas.

“You’re not even paying attention,” she muttered, swatting at his hand as he lazily traced shapes on her arm.

“Why would I?” he teased, his lips quirking into a smirk. “You’re more interesting than whatever cheesy plot this is.”

“You don’t even know the plot because you’re not watching!”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “I’ve got better things to look at.”

Rolling her eyes, she snuggled back against him, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her. But then he shifted beneath again, letting out an exaggerated groan.

“Ugh, why is it so hot in here? Are you trying to cook me alive?”

“Maybe I am,” she joked, smiling up at him. “What better way to test your resilience?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, sitting up and tugging his shirt over his head. “Let’s see how resilient you are when I make you walk home in the rain.”

“You’d never,” she quipped, but her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on his now bare chest.

There, inked just over his heart, was her name.

“Xavi…” she breathed, sitting up straighter as her gaze locked onto the tattoo.

He glanced down, his expression instantly morphing into a smug grin. “Oh, that? Took you long enough to notice.”

“That’s my name,” she whispered, almost in disbelief. “On your chest. My name.”

“Yup,” he said nonchalantly, like he hadn’t permanently marked his body for her. “Thought it was time to make my priorities clear.”

“Xavi,” she said again, her voice slightly shaky as she touched the tattoo lightly. “You got this for me?”

“For us,” he corrected softly, wrapping his hand around hers and pressing it against the ink. “Because you’re the most important part of my life, and I wanted a way to show it. Forever.”

Her heart swelled at his words, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Forever? What if I dump you for taking the last cookie again?”

He grinned. “Then I’ll tell everyone I got this tattoo because you make the best cookies. At least it’ll still be true.”

“You’re such a dumbass.”

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, his tone shifting to something softer as his free hand cupped her cheek. “Every time I see this, I’ll think about how lucky I am to have you. To love you.”

Tears prickled her eyes, and you leaned in, kissing him softly. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Crazy about you,” he said immediately, grinning against her lips. “Come on, you set me up for that one.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she brushed her fingers over the tattoo again. “Did it hurt?”

“Not as much as I thought it would,” he replied. “But then again, you’re worth any kind of pain.”

She groaned. “Stop! You’re so cheesy.”

“Cheesy? Me? Never,” he protested, though his grin only widened. “I’m romantic. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.”

“Hey,” he said, tilting her chin up so her eyes met his. “I mean it, though. This tattoo? It’s because you’re my always. My everything. And if putting your name over my heart isn’t the best way to prove that, I don’t know what is.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and before she could stop hersels, she was kissing him again.

This time, it wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was full of the love she felt for him, love that words couldn’t always capture.

When she pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes sparkling. “So… do I win boyfriend of the year, or what?”

She laughed, swiping at the tears in her eyes. “You win. But only if you promise to never pull a stunt like this without telling me again.”

“fine” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her nose. “But just so you know, I’ve got plenty more ideas where this came from.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Terrified,” he teased, pulling her back against his chest. “But admit it—you love it.”

She let out a content sigh, her fingers tracing over the ink once more. “I love it. And I love you.”

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Because you’re stuck with me now, name tattoo and all.”

[celtrist]

SLIGHT SPOILERS AHEAD BUT NOTHING TOO OBVIOUS (I would've waited a week but this one is pretty vague spoiler wise so...): I feel like most people might think she was being unfairly harsh in part due to her being a teenager and not understanding things. But I also think that's partially not giving her enough credit. I personally think she's very right in her actions, if not a bit melodramatic. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: It is very clear Stolas LOVES Octavia, but his loving and caring about her does not make him a good father. As viewers, we haven't been given any reason that Octavia should forgive Stolas. She seems kind of absent in his life and we've seen him prioritize things like Blitz over her (they make it a point several times in the show with the Asmodeus song and Lulu Land). They've kind of kept alluding to how Stolas does, in action, love Blitz more and doesn't pay enough attention to Octavia. And the show doesn't put a lot of effort into showing him trying to be better in this. He SAYS he is, but actions speak louder than words (and in a show, it's 9/10 times better to show it, not tell it). There hasn't been a moment in the show that shows Stolas putting in effort to mend his relationship with Octavia when we know it's important to him. And granted, yes, they have only so much time and episodes. But by the same token, there are episodes they could've not done (cherubs and Fizzaroli episodes) that could've put focus on Octavia and Stolas' relationship. Stolas' and Octavia's relationship feels more important than the day in the life of Fizz (and I like Fizz and his forgiving Blitz adds to that story, but we didn't need to see his life with Mammon).

If they want to keep hammering in the issues between Octavia and Stolas, then they also need to show the two mending (or bonding) on screen for it to feel fair for Octavia to forgive and trust him. We can't just say "off-screen stuff" as a resolution when this relationship is consistently shown to be rough and needs work. It's like if a show kept showing a couple being terrible for each other, but they keep mentioning stuff they did off-screen that tells us the relationship is good. That's not good writing! And while I have plenty of critiques for Helluva's and Hazbin's writing, I don't feel like they'd try to pull the "they solved it off-screen" thing. I don't think they'd be SLOW about it, but I think they'd at least show us on-screen stuff with it.

While I do think Stolas was in a difficult situation, you can't deny he's not a very good father (he wasn't even aware of her interests until the Lulu Land episode). Like, he can love her all he wants, but if he's not there for her, he's not there. And we haven't been given many reasons for him NOT to be there for her. You can't really name a lot of things Stolas has done in recent times for her that we've been allowed to see. The only part of their relationship we've seen is that they do care for each other but it needs work. I think it's obvious she's gonna forgive Stolas, just in part because he does genuinely want to do better by her and they DID have a good relationship when she was younger. And I think that's a good route to go with it (especially if they make a parallel of Octavia forgiving and trusting Stolas while Barbie chooses to keep hating Blitz).

I feel like people can be a bit lenient on Stolas because he's depressed and was in a loveless forced marriage with a woman while being gay, but I don't think that's fair for a character like Octavia then to have her feelings brushed off. Like there's certainly wiggle room to be sure, but it shouldn't mean we should ignore his actions and forgive him for everything he does. Stolas did do wrong and it makes me happy to see that there are consequences to his actions (good or bad). We've seen him keep flirting with Blitz over spending time with his daughter. These are things we DO see on screen. I do think Octavia was harsh, it's not like I don't (like with her reaction to the pills), but we as viewers haven't been given much reason for Octavia to forgive Stolas so easily. We haven't seen them have a good relationship really. Hell, we haven't even been shown them having a BAD relationship really. But the times we do get, it often shows the rough, bad side of it. Yes, she's 17 so her emotions are a bit wild and everything, and while I don't think she fully understands all the complexities, I also don't think she's a baby. Like... she's not an idiot. Teenagers have the capability to understand some of these things, she's not 5. Octavia wasn't JUST upset about the pills, she's upset because the man who said would always be there for her kept leaving for the imp he had an affair with. She's upset because he keeps being dishonest with her. Stolas has done far more for Blitz than we have seen him do for Octavia. I think the pills and that he's never told her about them was just the final straw of everything.

I don't think it's fair to say "Octavia doesn't know better" when she's 17. The show has hammered in the point that his actions have not = how he feels for Octavia very well. That, or just neglected to show any good bonding moments between them or anything that didn't involve Octavia having to forgive Stolas (as any Octavia episode had Stolas ignoring her and then saying sorry. Which would maybe be fine if they showed more to their relationship outside of that).

Rambled more than I thought I would for the series I have way less interest in, haha. But I don't really care for the "Stolas did nothing wrong" attitude I see some people have when Stolas has done things wrong. He was in an unfortunate situation to be sure, but he can still do wrong things (by all accounts, him cheating on Stella was wrong on a moral level). I LIKE Stolas' character too btw, and I like how messy he is. But I feel like a lot of people are gonna brush off Octavia's view as "she doesn't know any better" or just that she was being unfair about everything when I don't think that's fair to her. She was harsh, yes. I think the pill thing she doesn't understand entirely, but she's 17 not stupid. And there's more than just the pills that Octavia has reason to be mad about concerning her father that I think people don't wanna acknowledge. Maybe I'm talking nonsense though? I don't know, I really haven't been convinced about some of Stolas' actions, even if again his situation was messy/complicated.

[greatcometdeservedbetter]

Nothing makes me feel more like the Joker than knowing that Tamora Pierce has an entire novel about Tris at Lightbridge that will just… never be published? Apparently?

Anyway, as a poor substitute, here’s a list of things my brain has decided happens in that book:

Tris attends under a pseudonym, as planned, and no one knows about her connection to Niko or anything about her life at Winding Circle. She is one of many children of middling merchant families in her class.

Due to a mixup, she is assigned a roommate. For the first time in a long time, Tris has no access to power or connections and so she has to put up with it.

Most of her professors find her difficult to work with because she does not limit her study of their subjects to the traditional curriculum. Maybe one or two professors pay her special attention and praise, enough that her classmates are made aware of how talented she is.

Despite having no information about her except her milquetoast background, her classmates still find her strange and difficult. Her unexplained talent and advancement for a freshman leaves her isolated from her peers.

Gradually, Tris finds herself writing to her siblings less and less because she isn’t sure how to keep her unhappiness out of the message.

Making things worse is the roommate, who turns out to have a remarkably similar kind of backstory to Tris. Maybe she’s an orphan or a scholarship kid; her magic was definitely discovered later in life after a lot of hardship. Everyone in the school embraces her and finds her endlessly charming despite her social sort comings.

Poor Tris sits in the corner of their room while her roommate goes on about all the parties and dinners and whatnot their classmates have invited her to.

Only one student really tries to befriend her. He doesn’t have a name but he looks like a young Tom Hopper (Black Sails/Umbrella Academy). A super outgoing young mage from a working class family, he’s very adept at physical magical workings and is always outside doing like pushups and stuff where people can see him. He’s not used to an academic setting, though, and anytime he sees his pull ups catch Tris’ attention, he always calls out to her and sometimes asks for her help with classwork. She finds him annoying but still helps him when be asks because no one else talks to her.

She doesn’t know how he got into the university because he is. Shockingly bad at magic.

At one point, Nico visits. He tries to keep a low profile, but some of her classmates notice them spending time together. It immediately becomes the only thing anyone talks to her about, which is the opposite of what she wants so she starts being extra prickly and avoidant to make them stop.

This goes on for a while. Lonely Tris avoids her classmates and focuses on her studies. Presumably some kind of mystery is afoot and she can throw herself into that instead of wallowing in her misery.

At the midway point, she gets more visitors. Possibly all three of her siblings, but At minimum Briar.

For the sake of moving along, let’s say it’s just Briar. They connect mentally way before he arrives and any annoyance he has at her lack of communication dispels when he feels her frustration and sadness through the bond. He rolls up ready to be her social lubricant.

He introduces himself as her brother, never mind why they don’t look alike, and easily blends into the crowd at school for a few weeks. He makes friends effortlessly, gets invited to all kinds of parties and events, and even shows off a bit of his ambient magic during classes.

This infuriates Tris. They have a fight about it shortly before he leaves. Briar rightly points out that all the work she’s doing to lie about so many big parts of her life is preventing her from seeing the obvious - that many of her classmates have been trying really hard to make friends with her.

Her roommate only told her about things she was invited to in order to gauge if Tris would also be interested and to try and invite her along! And the boy constantly doing pushups in front of her actually has better grades than he lets on because he’s looking for excuses to spend time with her and all she seems to do is study. People only asked about Nico because he was the first concrete bit of information about her that anyone had!

It takes Tris a bit of time to process this, and she will have broken some bridges beyond repair already, but she does eventually see it and slowly starts to reach out.

Her circle (ha) stays small, but her life at Lightsbridge vastly improves once she starts seeing her classmates’ bids for connection for what they are.

As she gets comfortable with people, she gets key gossip and information about the school that she had previously been missing out on. Now the mystery becomes solvable.

It was probably whatever authority figure was nice to her in the beginning. Secret, asshole me too type behavior maybe.

She ends her first year better than she started it, with a good bunch of pals to help her out going forward, and a lot more confidence in her abilities.

Maybe she visits home over the summer or maybe we cut to after her graduation, but we see her return to Emelan at the end of the book

Whoever didn’t get to see her during the plot has a chance to hug and scold her for being standoffish. Then Briar’s like “and anyway, that guy who’s obviously in love with you asked if he could stay with us for a few weeks while he gets settled at his new job, and I told him sure”

And Tris is like “What guy? No one at school was in love with me.”

And then knock knock it’s the beefy-but-smart guy at the door and Tris is like “oh shit”

End book