#so I'm just left alone all day every day with nothing to do but think about how miserable I am and howw living isn't worth it anymore 👍

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: Your life together with them🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

Summary: various joint situations when you live with them.

A/N: I apologize for writing a little less often!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

Since the girl served in the army and got used to discipline, she will follow it while living with you. She always wakes up much earlier than you, about three hours, where you can sleep until 9-10 a.m., in some cases even before lunch if you get very tired. While you are sleeping, Hyun Ju will do a lot of things around the house (quietly so as not to wake you up), cook you a delicious breakfast and go to wake you up.

She will do it gently and carefully, stroking and kissing you wherever she wants. You sometimes grumble and tell her to lie down and sleep with you in a hug, but it doesn't affect her, so she continues to wake you up with kisses.

- Baby, it's time to get up, your favorite breakfast is already getting cold. And we have a lot to do. - she says gently, kissing your sweet lips.

After a couple of minutes, you still wake up and sleepily go to eat what your Hyunnie has prepared for you with love.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy has a lot of fun living with you. After all, you have new ideas almost every day. Again, recently you wanted to lose weight by the summer, you decided to run every morning. But it wasn't very good alone, so you forced your boyfriend to join you.

- So you want us to wake up at 7 a.m. on our weekend and run down the street when normal people will sleep? - he didn't understand at all why you need it, because you were beautiful.

- And you will run with me for the company! - Dae Ho only had to agree, he didn't want to offend you.

And he knew that soon you would get tired of it and you would throw away this idea, so he decided to be patient.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and the guy were complete opposites to each other. It was especially seen with household items. Su Bong was dirty. He constantly left his clothes all over the apartment: socks in the corners, clothes were lying on the backs of chairs. You were very unhappy with it, okay, unwashed dishes, but these are extremes.

- Can you stop scattering your clothes? Can't you put the clean ones in the closet, and throw the dirty ones in the laundry. I'm tired of cleaning up after you like a little child. - you mumbled when you removed his clothes from the chair again, while he was sitting on the phone.

- Yes, yes, good. - he said without much attention.

- If this happens again, all your things will fly to the trash!

- I got it, just don't be angry, my baby. - he put down the phone and started cleaning everything, then you rewarded him with a kiss.

But he won't be able to get used to it, so he'll still leave his things, but he's ready to clean up for your extra kisses.

Park Gyeong Seok

The three of you lived in a small apartment: you, your future husband and his daughter Na Yeon. Since the girl was undergoing treatment, she often stayed at home. But you and the man didn't want her to be alone, so you decided to take a housework and sit with Na Yeon.

You and the girl played a lot of her favorite games. She is very attached to you and even calls you mom.

When a man comes home from work, the girl asks him to join you and he, though tired, agrees, because he can't refuse his beloved girls.

Sometimes you and the girl like to mock him, so you can make up him with different makeup.

- Dad now a real princess! - said Na Yeon when she painted Gyeong Seok with children's cosmetics, you just laughed at this whole situation and at the face of a man who was both grumpy and smiling.

Nam Gyu

The guy loves cats very much, but since you both work a lot, you can't get a pet yet, but Gyu really wants to, so he started feeding street cats.

He thinks there's nothing wrong with that, but he was wrong. The cats are used to the fact that the guy began to feed them and they began to come to your house en masse, meowing and asking for food.

When you saw this, you were furious, you immediately called the guy and he had a shy face, he knew what was going on.

- Gyu, do you want to explain to me what's going on with cats here?

- Well... I fed them a little, it looks like they got used to it.. - you looked at him with an evil face, although you understood that he not on purpose.

- Now you will clean up after them, so that there is not a single shit from them! - you said and entered the house, he only agreed with you.

After this situation, the guy began to feed these pets less often, and you began to think that maybe you would give Nam Gyu a kitten.

🩵🩵🩵

[captain-bubble-wrap]

I'm curious how do you think Quinn would handle a breakup? Maybe one where he's being broken up with?

Boy, was this one hard to write... 90% of this is based on my last breakup, so... it's pretty... painful. SO ENJOY my misery! (I gave you a better ending than I had IRL, so you're welcome for that at least.)

"I loved you, I really did."

"It doesn't have to be this way," Quinn begged. "I still love you, Y|N."

"But you don't show it, Quinn. I've been so alone for so long and I just can't put myself through this anymore." Tears had been streaming down your face for several minutes now, since this whole spiraling conversation had started, yet you never broke eye contact with him. You wanted him to know how much this was hurting you to say and just how long you had been carrying the weight of it all.

"I tried to tell myself it would pass. It was this excuse, and that excuse, but nothing ever changed. I just don't think you can handle a relationship and your career right now. I'm tired of lying to myself. I'm tired of acting like tomorrow will magically be better. It's never better."

"Y|N I'm sorry--"

"I'm sure you are, and so am I, but I can't do this anymore. I just can't."

Quinn said nothing, his eyes dropped from your face while he stood there looking completely lost.

"You always say I don't deserve to feel the way I do when I'm down, because you've caused me to feel that way, but that's as far as it goes. Nothing ever changes. It's the same stuff over and over."

"I know, that's on me," he choked out, throat tight with anxiety. "I never intended to hurt you. I didn't think things were as bad as they were. I didn't realize I was hurting you."

You just shook your head in disbelief at hearing him say he hadn't noticed what he was doing to you. "You know, maybe I just asked too much from you. Maybe I demanded too much and you had no choice but to push back. I just don't know."

Quinn's eyes flick back to you immediately, "You were never too much, and I meant that every time I told you -- every time I tried to reassure you. You have always been there for me."

"And what about you? Where were you when I needed you the most? Distant, closed off, out with the guys? Even when you were beside me, you weren't really there. I begged you to do stuff with me and you'd say sure, but something would always come up. It was like you wanted an excuse to be away from me. I understood in the beginning, but fuck! I wouldn't hear from you until the next day. 'Sorry, I fell asleep. I left my phone at the hotel.' How could I not be suspicious?"

"I never cheated on you!" Quinn cried out.

"But, Quinn, the goddamn panic attacks you caused me! That hurt me!" Your voice was so much louder now, straining to remain below a yell. He was a blur in your eyes, with the tears obstructing your vision. "I begged you for the smallest of things! Christ, I'd say, 'good night, I love', and it was like you'd just ignore what I said. You never said anything the next morning! You say you love me, but you're horrible at showing it."

Quinn's voice, on the other hand, was growing smaller each time he had to plead his case. "I never fell out of love with you, Y|N, it's just like we drifted apart. I love how you treat me. I just wasn't used to being treated that way. I'm sorry if it came off like I was pushing you away."

"It was months though, Quinn. Months of feeling like I was the third wheel or just another friend. I don't like feeling so alone in a relationship. It's horrible."

"I don't know what else to say, but I'm sorry. Can I do anything to make this better?"

You were biting your bottom lip so hard when you heard his half-assed apology you tasted blood shortly after. "No, I don't think so. Too much has happened. I never thought we'd come to this. I thought you were going to be the last guy I had to open up to; the last guy I'd have to explain my past to. I wanted you to be my last, Quinn."

"I know, and I'm sorry I hurt you like this. I just got too comfortable and never checked in with how you were feeling. It was selfish of me. I'm not proud of any of this."

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, too. Sorry I had to bring this up out of the blue, but I've just reached my breaking point one too many times."

Even through all of your anger and sadness, you wanted to walk over to him and give him one last hug, but you had to stand your ground or all of these revelations would be for nothing. Too many times before you had talked yourself out of telling him how you had felt, but there would be no going backwards now.

"I've got to put myself first for one," you finally brought yourself to say. "I'll get my stuff out of here while you're on the road."

"Y|N--," he mumbled, his eyes so sorrowful hearing you say your goodbyes, so finite and decided.

"I hope everything works out for you, Quinn. I really do. I hope you find the person that's right for you. Someone who can handle your life and schedule. Again, I'm sorry but that doesn't appear to be me."

That was it. You had said everything you had argued with yourself over for months, in a matter of minutes, and now you were leaving his apartment. You'd linger on your decision for a moment once the door closed behind you, but you had to force yourself to go forward though your heart was begging you to go back.

On the other side of the door, you wouldn't hear him finally break down; his cries unheard and his heart shattered.

You'd reach the parking garage and get in your car but you didn't leave immediately -- almost like you were wanting to see if Quinn was just behind you, but the elevator door never opened. It was for the best. What would you have done if he had? Run back over to him? Say you were sorry? It was best not to think about the what-ifs.

It would hit you, as you rolled onto the street, that the next time you returned it would be to get your things, and likely the last time you'd ever be at his apartment. That apartment held so many memories, both good and bad. It felt more like home than your own did.

You'd find yourself in a silent argument the whole drive home until one song, on your shuffled playlist, catches your ear. It was Venice Bitch, by Lana del Rey, a song you loved until, for the first time, you noticed how much it aligned with your emotions.

"Fresh out of fucks forever, trying to be stronger for you. Ice cream, ice queen... oh god, miss you on my lips. It's me, your little Venice bitch...on the stoop with the neighborhood kids, calling out bang-bang kiss-kiss...and as the summer fades away, nothing gold can stay...you're right, I told you we'd make it work, you're beautiful and I'm insane...we're American made...give me Hallmark: one dream, one life, one lover...paint me happy and blue."

The music swells, as your tears run off your jawline. You loved Quinn so much! He had been the prince you had dreamed of, wished for and what had you done?

"Oh god, love him on my lips...touch me with your fingertips...it's me your little Venice bitch."

You'd pull in your driveway, your forehead resting against the steering wheel while you screamed out in agony at your broken heart. Your body hurt from crying for so long, throat sore from such loud emotions, and chest heavy with anxiety. Eventually, you'd exit your car and drag yourself to your front door. You couldn't just crawl into bed after all of that, you would need help in crying yourself to sleep. So, in the kitchen, you'd go through two glasses of wine while you convinced yourself you were such an idiot. Realizing you had thrown away the best thing to ever happen to you, you would being crying to loudly, it was like you were screaming. It was any wonder you hadn't awoken your sleeping neighbors next door. There was no fixing this now. What was done, was done.

All you wanted was some comfort but there would be no one to give you any. Not now. You felt you didn't deserve it anyway.

Leaving the glass and open bottle on the island, you forced yourself to the bathroom to wash your face. Seeing yourself in the mirror --how broken you looked-- had you been any weaker, you would have thrown something at it to erase the image from your mind. If only it would have been that easy to erase Quinn's sad eyes pleading for you not to leave. You wish you would have just left the light off.

In your bedroom, either out of habit or for comfort you grabbed a shirt to sleep in, which had been one of Quinn's. It hadn't taken long for the slight buzz to affect you but you felt no lighter or less phased by your actions. You wondered if you ever would.

As you figured you would, you'd cry into your pillow until flat exhaustion would pull you into sleep. That was until the buzzing of your phone would wake you from the light slumber. On the screen, "Huggy Bear" illuminated the room in bold, white letters. You ended the call, but no sooner had the phone screen gone black, it was flashing again. Like the first one, you swiped the red button and the ringing finally ceased. The next time the phone would buzz would be from a text notification. The words would send butterflies pulling your heart in one hundred different directions.

"I'm outside. Please, may I talk to you?"

Torn between leaving him out there in the cold, and actually giving him a moment to say what he needed to, you laid there for a few minutes before throwing the blankets aside and stumbling down the hall to the living room. Wiping your cheeks, you unlocked the door to find him standing there, his hoodie pulled up around his messy curls and his eyes bloodshot and wet.

You lean against the doorframe for support; arms crossed in an attempt to hide your deeper emotions.

"Y|N, I don't want things to be this way. I don't want things to end like this."

It was so hard, but you stood your ground, no matter how hard you wanted to fall into his body and tell him you were sorry.

"I'll try harder. I shouldn't have taken you for granted like I did."

Finally, you say something to him with a slight shaking of your head," This wasn't all on you. I asked too much. I'm sorry."

Your stifled cries can't be held back for long, and shortly after apologizing, you cover your face with your hands to hide your crying. Your whimpers stab Quinn in the heart all over again, still feeling he's the sole reason you're feeling this way. He steps forward, and wraps his arms around you. He's so warm against the cold night air, which causes your nails to dig into his back, allowing yourself to return his embrace.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" You cried out, holding on to him like a lifeline.

"So am I," Quinn whispered in to your ear, trying to keep you from a panic attack. "C'mon, let's get you back inside. Is that okay?"

You'd allow him to guide you back into the warmth of the your house. He would be the one to shut and lock the door, and through all of that, he'd still keep you pressed against his chest.

"I never wanted to make you cry," he confessed, never realizing how much he could miss the feeling of you in his arms.

"I can't believe I hurt you like that, Quinn," you replied, hiding your face from his.

"Don't apologize, please." he said, nearly on the brink of tears himself. "I'm sorry I hurt you so much that we even got to this point in the first place."

The fact that he had even wanted to see you, to drive outside of the city to get to you, and above all else, not telling you how much of a horrible person you had been, spoke volumes of Quinn's willingness to be better for you. He wrapped both arms around you tighter than he ever had before. You were shivering, wearing nothing but that oversized t-shirt, but you didn't care; being cold wasn't going to take away whatever this moment was with Quinn.

"Are you okay?" He asked, running a hand up and down your spine. "You're shaking."

"I don't know."

"Come on, pretty girl, let's get you back to bed, hm? If you'll let me."

You nod, but were still reluctant to let go of him. Now you were forced to face him and it felt terrible to still see him looking so heartbroken. His cheeks were still wet with fresh tears, as he had apparently been silently crying while he had been holding you. You touched his face and his eyes closed against your touch.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes would open again, and he would try to smile for you. "I'm sorry, too."

Without another world, Quinn would guide you back down the hall to your bedroom, rather familiar with where everything was in the house. The light was off, your phone lay in the middle of the bed with the screen on. Your wallpaper was a picture of Quinn and yourself at last year's Stanley Cup playoffs, and it was the only light in the room. Quinn would click on one of the bedside lamps before reaching for your phone.

"I always loved that photo," he said, lingering on the photo for a moment before shutting off the screen and laying it next to the lamp.

You'd crawl into the bed and he would move to tuck you in, "I don't want you to hate me, Quinn."

He'd stop moving to return his eyes to your face. "I don't, sweetheart. I don't think I could...ever. It hasn't crossed my mind."

"But--"

"I'm not upset with you, baby. This is on me. What you said was true: I should have paid more attention.

You gasped through the beginnings of another crying fit, "I don't deserve it!"

"Shh, shh," Quinn leaned forward to cradle your face with his hand. "I needed to hear it, baby. The truth hurts sometimes. I'll be okay once you are."

"Will you-- will you stay tonight?" You asked, terrified he could possibly deny your request, trying to stop crying.

"Of course," he managed to actually smile. "I'd love to."

"Quinn, I'm so--"

"It's okay, it's okay. We've both said it enough."

You'd sniffle with an added nod as he pulled back the covers to get in next to you. He'd turn off the lamp before you found your place against his chest.

"I'll be right here when you get up, okay?" He assured.

"Promise?" You mumbled.

"I promise. I also promise not to make you feel like this again."

You didn't know what to say. It was like he had completely forgiven you for everything. "I don't want to lose you."

"You haven't sweetheart. I'm right here," he said, running a hand through your hair. "I love you."

Quinn's admission made you cry again, "I love you, too, baby."

"Shh, shh, you don't need to cry. I'm right here. I'm yours as long as you want me."

[xoxorealitygalore]

Grown Woman

Tama Tonga x Black OC

Summary: 30-year-old Tahiry has always been seen as a baby and underestimated by those around her. When tragedy strikes and her best friend passes away, Tahiry is suddenly thrust into the role of legal guardian for her young goddaughter, Harmony. As she navigates the challenges of motherhood and responsibility, Tahiry begins to transform into a woman of depth and resilience. Yet, it’s only Tama, who truly notices the changes in her.

I'm a grown woman (Yeah, I'm a grown woman)

I can do whatever I want (I can do whatever I want, hey)

I can be bad if I want (Mhm)

I can do wrong if I want (Mhm)

I can live fast if I want (Mhm)

I can go slow all night long (Mhm)

I'm a grown woman

tahirytravis ✓

1,325 Posts 6.6M Followers 110 Following

Tahiry Travis

Just being me 💓

Liked by trinity_fatu, uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, and 477,246 others

tahirytravis Dear Masika, it’s been two months since you left this earth, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. The world feels so different without your laughter, your light, your love. But in the midst of the grief, I find comfort knowing I get to help raise the beautiful little girl you brought into this world. She carries so much of you in her—your smile, your strength, your heart. I promise you, I’ll love her like my own, and I’ll make sure she grows up knowing just how special her mama was. I miss you more than words can say, but I’m here, Masika. I’ll keep going, for you, for her, and for all the memories we shared. Love you forever. ❤️

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Two months had passed since the heart-wrenching day Tahiry buried her best friend, Masika. The funeral was a blur—raw emotion, the sharp sting of loss, and the overwhelming sense that nothing would ever be the same. Masika had been her closest confidante, her partner in crime, the person who understood Tahiry like no one else.

The suddenness of her passing left a void that nothing seemed capable of filling. It wasn’t just the absence of a friend; it was the absence of a promise that had always been there—shared dreams, mutual support, the plans they had made for the future.

And now, in a cruel twist of fate, that future was no longer possible. But amidst the sorrow, another responsibility had fallen squarely on Tahiry’s shoulders—one she hadn’t been prepared for: she was now the legal guardian of Masika’s daughter, her Goddaughter, Harmony.

As she looked at the young girl—only three years old—Tahiry saw not just the innocence of a child, but the weight of the promise she had made to Masika. She had promised her best friend she would take care of Harmony, and now, more than ever, that promise felt like an anchor around her neck. It was a responsibility Tahiry never imagined she would bear alone.

The transition had been difficult. Raising a child was a monumental task, especially when the child was grieving the loss of her mother. Tahiry wasn’t prepared for the sleepless nights, the tantrums, or the endless questioning from Harmony about why her mommy wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t prepared for the emotional rollercoaster that being a mother brought.

But she was standing strong.

Her mind was full of the “what-ifs,” of course. What if she wasn’t doing this right? What if she failed Masika, failed Harmony? What if she wasn’t enough for the child who depended on her now? But every time doubt crept in, she reminded herself of Masika’s wish—that Harmony be surrounded by people who loved her, people who would step in and give her the stability she needed. Tahiry had to be strong for Harmony, not just for her friend, but for herself too. The stakes were too high to fail.

But there was one thing that grated on her nerves—her family’s constant concern. Particularly her older sister, Takecia. Takecia had always been the protective one, the one who saw Tahiry as the baby of the family, no matter how old she was. Nine years older, Takecia had grown up watching over her younger sister, and despite Tahiry being a grown woman now, a successful professional in her own right, Takecia still saw her as the child she once was. Tahiry was tired of being treated like a child. She had responsibilities now. She had a life to manage, a job to do, and a child to care for. Why couldn’t her family see that?

This resentment bubbled under the surface, but Tahiry did her best to keep her frustration hidden. There were days when she just wanted to scream, to tell her family to stop treating her like a kid, to let her make her own decisions. But it wasn’t just Takecia. Everyone in her family seemed to want to "look out" for her, questioning her every move, making her feel like she was too young, too inexperienced, and too incapable of handling the heavy weight she had suddenly been given. Even her brother-in-law’s brothers felt the need to step in. She was the baby of the family, and to them, that meant she was still the child who needed protection.

Tahiry walked into the arena with Harmony, trying to focus on the task at hand. Today, she wasn’t just Tahiry—the grieving Godmother. She was Tahiry, Director of Sports and Entertainment Relations for WWE. A powerful position that required focus, strength, and a sense of professionalism that sometimes felt impossible to maintain when the emotional weight of life at home followed her every step. But today, she had to push everything aside, at least for a little while, and focus on her job.

"Come on, Harmony," she said as they made their way into the bustling arena, the sound of staff talking and the excitement of the SmackDown Live show vibrating through the air. Harmony waved excitedly at the crew as they passed by, her little face lighting up with joy. Tahiry smiled at the sight. It was moments like these—moments when she saw Harmony so carefree—that made all the pain, all the struggles, feel a little lighter. She couldn’t let her down.

Tahiry worked for WWE, and her role as Director of Sports and Entertainment Relations was demanding, to say the least. She was tasked with a wide range of responsibilities, from supporting talent to managing relationships with sports publicists, talent agents, and professional athletes. Her job often had her on the road, coordinating events, scouting new talent, and overseeing logistics for various activations and campaigns. It was a high-energy, high-profile job that demanded her full attention, but it also allowed her to be surrounded by some of the most influential people in sports and entertainment.

Today, however, was about booking talent for upcoming football games—an appearance that would keep her busy for the next few hours.

As they walked through the arena, Tahiry’s phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at it quickly—just another reminder of how quickly things moved in her world. But then she noticed someone familiar walking towards them: Jonathan, her brother-in-law’s brother. Tahiry couldn’t help but mentally roll her eyes. She knew what was coming. Jonathan was always hovering, always making sure she was "taken care of." He had a tendency to treat her like a little sister in need of constant supervision, and tonight was no exception.

“Hey, Tahiry,” Jonathan said, his easy smile stretching across his face. “Hey, Harmony,” he said, bending down to scoop the young girl into his arms.

Tahiry knew what was coming next before he even said it. "Come on, the fam has a private locker room tonight."

“We’re fine sitting in catering, Jon,” she replied, trying to assert her independence.

Jonathan, as usual, ignored her wishes. He started walking away with Harmony in his arms, fully expecting Tahiry to follow.

And she did.

It wasn’t a matter of needing him to babysit; it was just easier to go along with it than argue. The locker room was set up for a few of the WWE superstars and their families, a space where they could relax before the show. When they arrived, Trinity, Sefa, and Jacob were already there, chatting casually as they prepared for the evening. Trinity was the first to spot Harmony.

"Harmony!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she stood to take the young girl from Jonathan’s arms. Harmony smiled brightly and hugged Trinity, clearly happy to be around the people who had become like family to her since her mother’s passing.

Tahiry walked into the room, trying to shake off the lingering tension from the encounter with Jonathan. “Hey,” she greeted everyone, placing her bags down. "I’m going to leave my stuff here for now. Got a lot of work to do tonight.”

Before she could even get settled, Jacob called out to her. "Hold on now, you gotta let us know where you're going."

"Seriously?" Tahiry sighed, rolling her eyes. "I’ll be in the gorilla or catering, working."

"We’re just looking out for you," Sefa said, the protective tone in his voice making her grit her teeth.

Tahiry bit her tongue. She was so tired of hearing that. "I know, I know," she muttered, kissing Harmony’s cheek before walking out of the locker room, her laptop and phone in hand.

Outside, she bumped into Tama—her biggest distraction. Tama, or Alipate as he was known outside of WWE, was a professional wrestler with a presence that made heads turn. Tall, imposing, and impossibly handsome, he was also someone who had captured Tahiry’s heart from the moment she met him. Despite their undeniable chemistry, Tahiry never acted on her feelings. Her family was too protective, too quick to judge anyone who got close to her. And Tama—despite his obvious interest in her—respected that boundary, even if it meant burying his feelings.

"Hey, Tahiry," he said, a smile spreading across his face when he saw her. “You look so pretty, I like your hair like this.”

Tahiry smiled, her heart doing a little flip. He always knew how to make her feel special, even with just a simple compliment. She had the biggest crush on him—one that she knew was pointless, given their circumstances. But that didn’t make it any easier to ignore.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice softening. “I actually need to talk to you about going to an appearance.”

Tama groaned but smiled. “Let me guess, a football game?”

“Exactly,” Tahiry said with a laugh. “I know you don’t like public appearances, but it’s part of your job.”

Tama sighed. "I’ll only do it if you come with me."

Tahiry laughed, surprised at his sudden proposal. “If that’s the only way to get you to do it, then I’ll go with you.”

"You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said, although there was a warmth in his voice that made her believe he was genuinely grateful for her accepting his offer.

“No, I want to go,” Tahiry said. “Let’s do it.”

Before she could turn to go, Tama asked, his voice quieter now, “How are you doing?”

Tahiry’s face tightened. Two months had passed, but the grief was still raw. Her best friend—her sister in everything but blood—was gone. How was she supposed to answer that question? How could she explain the constant ache, the feeling of being pulled in a thousand different directions?

Tama must have sensed her distress. He pulled her into a gentle hug, his strong arms offering comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. She buried her face in his chest, letting herself be vulnerable for a moment. “I just miss her so much,” she whispered, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Tama didn’t say anything at first. He just rubbed the back of her head, offering the kind of tenderness that Tahiry hadn’t allowed herself to feel in weeks. "Some days I’m great, and others just hit me like a ton of bricks," she confessed.

“I know it’s hard,” Tama murmured softly.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, the noise of the arena fading into the background. For once, Tahiry allowed herself to be cared for, to be held.

Eventually, she pulled away, embarrassed by her emotional outburst. “Sorry for crying all over you,” she said, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Tama gave her a gentle smile. "You don’t have to apologize for crying. You can cry all over me anytime," he said, the sincerity in his voice comforting her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Tahiry smiled through her tears and nodded. They parted ways, and Tahiry returned to the locker room. Harmony was sitting on the floor, brushing Trinity’s hair while they waited for the show to begin.

“Oh, you’re finally back,” Trinity said with a grin. “I need you to do my makeup.”

Tahiry sighed, dropping her things on the table before going to Trinity’s side. As she worked, Sefa and Jacob’s voices echoed in the background.

"Why were you hugging Tama?" Sefa asked, clearly too curious for his own good.

Tahiry ignored him at first, focusing on the delicate art of makeup. But Sefa didn’t let it go.

“You heard me,” he pressed.

She finally answered, her voice tired but firm. “He asked me how I was doing, and I broke down. That’s why we were hugging.”

“Are you okay?” Trinity asked, her voice soft with concern.

Tahiry paused, looking at Harmony, who had fallen quiet, staring at an old video of her and Masika dancing in the living room. Harmony whispered, “I miss mommy.”

Tahiry quickly wrapped her arms around the little girl. “I miss her too,” she whispered back, holding Harmony close as the weight of her grief settled back onto her shoulders.

The world moved on, but Tahiry felt suspended in time, torn between the life she was building for herself and the memories of the life that had been taken too soon.

Tahiry’s house was a place that once felt like her sanctuary, a private space where she could unwind after a long day, away from the noise and chaos of the world. But today, the quiet had been replaced by a steady hum of voices, laughter, and the clatter of pots and pans.

She stepped into the kitchen, a little annoyed, to find it already overtaken. Her sister, Takecia, was talking animatedly to her husband, Joshua, who was rummaging through the fridge as if it were his own. Her nephew, Jeyce, was lounging on the couch in the living room, engrossed in his game console, and her goddaughter, Harmony, just three years old, was playing in the corner of the room with her toys.

The house had become an extension of Takecia’s family, and at this moment, Tahiry wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“You need to go grocery shopping,” Joshua said, his voice light but filled with the hint of authority as he reached for a jar of peanut butter. His tone suggested that this had become a routine request, one that Tahiry had come to dread.

Tahiry folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes, glancing at the half-empty shelves of her fridge. “I wouldn’t have to if you and everyone else didn’t come here damn near every day eating my shit up,” she retorted, her voice tinged with frustration.

Joshua just giggled at her, clearly amused by her irritation. He was used to it. “Instacart some groceries and I’ll pay for it,” he offered, flashing a grin over his shoulder.

Tahiry gave him a side-eye, not entirely trusting his offer. “Remember you said that,” she warned, her fingers already tapping on her phone as she pulled up the Instacart app. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the available options.

The tension was brief, but Takecia, always quick to stir the pot, couldn’t resist joining in. “So... what’s this I hear about Tama being a little extra friendly with you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter. “You know he’s twelve years older than you.”

Tahiry’s immediate response was a simple roll of the eyes, her body stiffening in a defensive posture. “And?” she asked, a challenging edge to her voice.

Takecia pursed her lips and shook her head. “You don’t need to be getting involved with someone that old,” she said, her voice laced with concern, though it was clear she didn’t fully understand the dynamic.

Tahiry didn’t hesitate. “I can do whatever I want,” she shot back, clearly irritated by her sister’s unsolicited opinion.

Before Takecia could respond, Joshua piped in, trying to ease the tension, but also to reinforce Takecia’s concerns. “Nah, you can’t. I don’t want him trying to take advantage of you, Tahiry,” he said gently. “You’ve already got enough on your plate.”

Takecia nodded in agreement. “Exactly,” she added, her gaze softening. “You’re too young for him anyway.”

Tahiry’s expression hardened. “I’m thirty years old,” she said firmly, her voice steady. “I’m old enough to make my own choices, and if I want to deal with a man twelve years older than me, then I’ll do just that.”

“Yeah, but we’re just worried about you,” Joshua said, his tone still gentle but filled with concern. “You don’t need anyone adding more stress to your life.”

Tahiry shook her head, feeling the familiar weight of their protective instincts pressing down on her. She opened the Instacart app once more, but before she could ask Joshua for his credit card to pay for the groceries, she turned back to face them. “You guys are so hard-headed,” she muttered, trying to let the irritation roll off her shoulders.

Takecia let out an exasperated sigh, clearly fed up with the constant back-and-forth. “You never want to listen to me,” she said, her voice soft but full of frustration.

Tahiry’s laugh was bitter. “Because you think I’m still five years old and not a grown woman,” she snapped. “Why would I listen to you when you don’t listen to me?”

The conversation paused in the heavy silence that followed, and it was in that moment, just as Tahiry was about to relent and give Joshua the credit card details, that Harmony’s small, trembling voice broke through.

“I want mommy,” Harmony cried, her face scrunched up in distress, and her little body quivering as she ran toward Tahiry, her arms reaching out for comfort.

Tahiry instinctively crouched down, opening her arms to scoop the little girl into her embrace. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” she asked softly, brushing a tear from the child’s cheek.

“Mommy,” Harmony whimpered, her tiny voice breaking as the pain of her mother’s loss resurfaced. Tahiry’s heart twisted painfully as she held the child, knowing full well the profound grief that still gripped Harmony’s young heart.

Masika’s death had shattered the little girl’s world. Two months had passed, and still, Harmony couldn’t fully understand why her mother wasn’t there to tuck her into bed at night, or why she couldn’t feel her warm embrace. Tahiry had always been the one to step in, trying her best to offer the love and stability that Harmony desperately needed. But it wasn’t the same, not even close.

Tahiry kissed Harmony’s temple, trying to soothe the little girl’s aching soul, though her own heart ached just as much. She, too, was still in denial, clinging to the hope that Masika would walk through the door one day, telling them it was all some sort of cruel test. But Masika wouldn’t be walking through that door. The reality was a hard pill to swallow, and each day felt like an insurmountable challenge for everyone in the house, especially for Harmony.

Takecia watched the scene unfold with a deep, quiet sympathy. She understood the pain her younger sister was carrying, even if she didn’t fully know how to help her heal. Losing Masika had been a blow to them all, but for Harmony, it was like losing a piece of herself. Takecia’s gaze softened as she looked at the two women—her sister and her niece—clinging to each other in a bond that felt fragile, like a single thread holding them together.

Tahiry murmured to Harmony, trying to find some comfort in the words she had said to the child before, something that had helped her through difficult moments. “Remember what I said about missing mommy?” she asked gently.

Harmony nodded, wiping her tears. “She’s in my heart,” she whispered, her voice soft as if testing the words, still unsure of their meaning.

“That’s right,” Tahiry confirmed, nodding as she held Harmony even tighter. “She’s in your heart. Every time your heart beats, that’s a little part of her reminding you that she’s with you.”

Takecia couldn’t help it. The tears that had been welling up for weeks now finally broke free, spilling down her face as she witnessed the raw grief of her little sister. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, trying to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. Joshua, who had been standing silently by, moved to take his wife into his arms. He knew that, despite her tough exterior, Takecia’s heart was breaking for her sister, just as his was.

Jeyce wandered into the room, his face lit up with the energy of a typical 12-year-old boy. He noticed Harmony’s tear-streaked face immediately, and without hesitation, he reached for her, taking her gently into his arms. “Come on, Harmony,” he said softly. “I’ll let you play the game with me.”

Harmony sniffled, but the prospect of playing a video game with her older cousin was enough to pull her from her sorrow, at least temporarily. She nodded eagerly, wrapping her arms around Jeyce’s neck as he carefully carried her to the living room.

Tahiry watched them go, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “He would make a great big brother,” she murmured, her tone light but filled with warmth. “Y’all should give him a little sibling.”

Joshua and Takecia both groaned in unison. “This factory is closed and out of business,” Takecia quipped, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Tahiry chuckled softly, her own grief momentarily pushed aside by the banter. She wiped the stray tears from her eyes, the warmth of the moment a brief respite from the emotional storm that raged within her.

Just as she thought the moment of calm would last, her phone lit up with a new message notification. She glanced down at the screen and saw a text from Tama. ‘Hey, how are you? I was wondering if I could pick you up for the game tomorrow.’ Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t help but smile at the simplicity of his words.

Joshua noticed the smile creeping onto her face, and his brows furrowed in suspicion. “Who’s texting you?” he asked, his voice laced with an edge of protectiveness.

“Your daddy,” Tahiry answered quickly, not bothering to hide her amusement.

Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “That better not be who I think it is,” he warned, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

Tahiry’s smile only grew wider. “And if it is?” she asked, not bothering to back down.

Joshua leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll call Joe and them so quick to jump his ass,” he muttered under his breath, his protective instincts kicking in as usual.

Tahiry laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Oh my gosh,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You’re such a drama king.”

But even as the playful exchange continued, something lingered in the back of her mind. Tama’s message had stirred something within her, something she hadn’t fully allowed herself to acknowledge until now. There was a part of her that was ready to open her heart to Tama, even if the path forward was complicated, and she wasn’t sure where it would lead.

But for now, she allowed herself a moment of peace, wrapped in the comfort of her family, as chaotic and imperfect as it was.

[totallyanopossum]

Call of duty

Ghost babysits

WC: 1.3k

Link to story master post

Warning: mentions of drug use, addiction, sexual content

Note: solo smut scene

Part 6, home alone

3 days later their teams packing up to go on a mission. Price calls her down to talk to her, he's planning on leaving her on her own, that's why he had Ghost stay over. It was a test run to see how she'd do without someone who knows her past watching and she passed with flying colors.

Y/N-“ so what's up?”

P- “ we've got a mission real soon and I know I've been overprotective but I trust you and think your ready to be on your own this time”

She never thought she'd hear him say that, not only that he trusts her but acknowledging his behavior. She's so used to being lied to and manipulated that someone taking responsibility for their actions is a surreal experience.

Y/N-“ th..thank you, this means a lot, i wont let you down”

P- “ it's okay to slip and fall along the way, as long as you keep trying and getting back up. I'm sorry if i ever pressured you made, you think one slip up is a disappointment, this is new for me”

Y/N-“ this is a learning experience for both of us, i think we're doing good”

P- “ yeah”

Y/N-“ so how long will you be gone”

P- “ a week or so can't really know till we're headed home”

Y/N-“ okay”

-💀Simon❤️‍🔥-

Hey

Hey lovie

Heard you got a mission soon

Yeah we leave tomorrow

Good luck come back to me

Nothing could keep me from you

When your back I wanna see you

I already miss you so much

Me too lovie me too,

once back I won't make you wait long

It's weird having the house to herself, she hasn't been left alone this long since before rehab and even then she has never liked being all alone, it kinda creeps her out. Being left alone with her thoughts is a torturous trial she's never done well at.

When Ghost was ‘babysitting’ she couldn't always hear or sense where he was because of how stealthy he is but she knew he was there somewhere. But now she knows she's all alone, alone with just herself and there's a reason even before rehab she was always around others, when she's alone all that's left is her mind, and her mind is greatest enemy.

Getting clean wasn't easy, she's drawn to anything that takes away the pain. She can't remember most of her psychotic break but it's still got its claws in her, the call to drugs, and now left all alone with her thoughts she's starting to have strong cravings.

Knowing no one is coming home to stop her, to catch her, scares her so badly she goes to a meeting. She keeps this up going to a meeting every day, figures if she's busy doing that and getting support then she can't go find something to swallow, inhale, or snort.

When she's not at meetings she's drawing, doing yoga, baking, dancing to music, and has doubled her walks now taking one in the evening too. She usually keeps a relaxed, very free schedule but now she's packing her days so full there's no time for anything else. No time for her mind to wonder and torture her, no time to think of drugs, no time to go score them, no time to worry about Simon and Price.

She's got the days covered but the nights,she can't escape her mind during the nights. All she can do is put on her sleep playlist, hug onto the pillow Simon used, focus on counting her breaths and hope she can fall asleep before 4 am.

A week has gone by and still no word but she's not worried, well not yet at least, she promised herself she wouldn't worry until the 3 week mark. But she really hopes they get home soon, her sleep has been extra shitty and she needs a night of sleeping with Simon. Wither it's just sleeping cuddled up or being fucked till passing out, both resulted in excellent sleep and she needs that.

Almost at the 2 week mark and the packing her day's full routine is wearing her down and the crappy sleep is not helping. So today she switches things up, she needs to feel something good, needs some oxytocin.

She lays down her towel, gets her rose toy and thinks of her man. First time she did this she was just imagining what it would be like with him, but now she's been with him and knows exactly what it's like, fueling her even more.

She dims the lights, puts on some music to set the mood, not having to care if someone overhears.

Legs spread open, one hand rolling her nipple between her thumb and pointer finger the other applying her rose to her swollen clit.

She never thought something could top the rose but Simon working his tongue on her is just something else, but she'll just have to make do without him for now.

Her light moans turn to whines of need, she needs more. She feels so empty now knowing just how full she can feel. She gets up and digs through her still till she finds the hidden velvet bag stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer.

The metals cold to the touch but it's just what she needs, Simon's stretched her cunt to only be satisfied by him now, so a butt plug is just what needs. She hasn't played with her ass in ages so she'll have to go with a smaller plug.

Laying on her side, leg up, using her own slick arousal as lubrication she slowly pushes the cold metal plug into her tight ass. The stretch is euphoric, making memories of Simon painfully stretching her out flash before her. Letting out sinful moans as the plugs fully in and she's clenching around it.

She always orgasms so quickly when she has something in her ass, but she wants to enjoy them, make it last. So she sets her rose aside and uses her fingers. They easily glide into her sopping wet cunt as she starts pumping 2 fingers in and out.

Her core tightening, clenching down hard, pussy dripping, toes curling, bottom lip bloody from biting, head thrown back, as she reaches her peak calling out Simon's name and a mess of unrestrained moans.

She's panting as she comes down from her release, she finally got the hit she was craving, oxytocin isn't Oxy but this was better. Once calms down, coming down from her high she looks at the mess she made and a sinful thought crosses her mind. She wants to snap a picture and send it to Simon but he explained she won't be able to reach him till he's home so it's no use doing that.

She cleans up her bed and goes to shower but leaves her plug in, she used to love wearing one on the regular and had even managed to stretch up to a decent size, but her ex hated it, called her a bunch of nasty things but she has a feeling Simon won't have a problem with this.

She takes a long shower just closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of the water falling over her still sensitive body. This leads to round 2 with the handheld shower head held to her puffy sensitive clit peppering it with water, she's so glad she left her plug in. She orgasms hard screaming out, grabbing onto the edge of the shower bench as she squirts. She knows she's able to but it's been ages, she feels lightheaded and takes a while to recover and finishes her shower.

She spends the rest of the day in bed drawing and watching a show enjoying her oxytocin bliss.

Sorry for the wait and short chapter lifes been getting crazier then usually

[fitzhastoomanysideblogs]

So cool having nothing to live for and nothing to look forward to and zero friends this is awesome 👍 (this sucks someone please save me)

[beetleskeleton]

augh my back

but i have a vent thing so here ig/lh

(if the wording doesn't make sense, it's basically a hopeful plea that said friend is there, with the provided context that I’ve already lost a family member and a multitude of furry and feathery friends, it would only stand as a somewhat reasonable hope that he is with them too.)

[teaboot]

This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

[saymio]

Dae-ho headcanons | (NSFW)

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho (player 388) x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: uhh daehho is rlly needy, kinda sub dae ho, idk TBH he's too normal for warnings LOL,

A/N: not proof read. I tried my best:( I'm used to writing darker stories with elements of dub/noncon, manipulation, etc..so hopefully I did his good personality justice.

kang dae ho, the man couldn't keep his eyes away from you the second he caught a glance of you. his eyes following your every move inside the room that everyone had just woken up in.

kang dae ho, the man that blushes like he had just been caught doing the dirtiest thing on earth (staring at you). getting somehow redder when you giggle at his 'confidence' crumble like a failed sand castle.

kang dae ho, the man that cant believe his eyes when you stand up from yourself and your group against men that were clearly bigger than you. showing immense confidence even when you could easily be overpowered.

kang dae ho, the man that always finds his gazes linger a little longer than they should. watching you closely when you stretch, feeling himself get hard at the sight of your stomach peeking past the shirt and soft noise you make when you stretch.

kang dae ho, the man that invites you to his team after the second round. finding you all alone after your teammates left you to die to form their group and getting fatally shot during it.

kang dae ho, the man that offers his milk to you. telling you that its "no big deal" with a shrug. even if he goes a little more hungry than usual.

kang dae ho, the man that will look at you for approval of something he just did. giving himself an internal fist bump when you tell him he did great.

kang dae ho, the man that will slip his hands into his pants and get himself off while he watches your sleeping form. he just thinks you look too gorgeous while the lights of the x and o illuminate off your face and rest of your body.

kang dae ho, the man that feels so bad for imagining what your delicate body looks under your clothes .. but cant help it when you just look so hot

kang dae ho, the man that will sneak into your bed at the middle of the night and cuddle you... feeling himself get a hard on at the feeling of your soft skin under his arms

kang dae ho, the man that will slowly start rutting into you in the middle of the night. waking you up surprised but not upset.. his moans and whines filling your ears to the brim

kand dae ho, the man that will fondle your tits n make out with you like a feral dog. as if you were his first girlfriend since 8th grade.

kang dae ho, the man that will cover his whines and moans with his hands while your jerk him off under the thin covers. trying his best not to make too much noise and wake anyone up..but there was probably that heard him either way.

kang dae ho, the man that will lick his fingers after you came all over them like a starving animal. savoring every drop of it that he can pick up with his digits.

kang dae ho, the man that decided to join the shoot out with the other guards in hopes it could get you out of this mess. even if you begged him not to go.

kang dae ho, the man that felt nothing but relief and warmth when you hugged him and held him in your gentle arms when he had a panic attack and couldn't get himself to go back

kang dae ho, the man that want nothing more but to spend the rest of his life with you.

A/N: this was rlly rushed n lazily made, I'm sorry :( I was out all day so I didn't find time to finish/continue my long fic but I still wanted to make something T T I think I might just stick to writing for characters that would more likely do darker things, I felt this was too boring :// sorry...

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[sarahroutldge]

i love you, i'm sorry.

a/n: requested based on a prompt list - the dialogue prompt is in bold! gif not mine, all credits to the creator (also the title has nothing to do with the song, it was just stuck in my head lol)

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: you and jj maybank drunkenly hooked up a few nights ago, and neither of you know how to deal with that. (routledge!reader)

word count: 3k

warnings: fluff/humor, angst w/ a happy ending, implied sexual content, drinking, semi-proofread, I think that's it

John Booker Routledge never thought he’d actually have to tell his best friend JJ Maybank that his little sister was off limits. Not once did it ever occur to him that JJ would ever think of you in a different way; he hardly liked to consider the idea that you dated anyone in the first place, let alone that you’d express any interest in the man he knew inside-and-out.

But things change and people get older. After you and the rest of the Pogues found El Dorado and began construction on Poguelandia, JJ started to see you differently. Sure, he always found you attractive, but JJ also found every woman he encountered attractive, so he never thought much of it. 

And you certainly didn’t ever think of JJ in that way either. At heart, you were a relationship girl; and while the fact that you were single was proof enough that no relationship of yours had worked out in the past, one of your greatest strengths was that you knew what you wanted. You didn’t seek out something casual because you knew you’d be left unfulfilled. You wanted something all-consuming and destined for marriage. Seeing your older brother grow and mature in his relationship with Sarah Cameron only clarified that further. In your mind, if the second-most relationship-allergic person you knew (after JJ of course) was able to dive headfirst into marriage with a girl so remarkably different from himself, then you decided you wouldn’t settle for any less.

Feelings, however, have a funny way of messing with plans and expectations. While JJ had essentially lived with you and your brother for years, building Poguelandia only pushed the two of you even further together. And watching someone so unpredictable and chaotic as JJ tame himself for the sake of his friends and his future stirred something in you that you hadn’t been expecting at all.

Over the months, your interactions with JJ changed, little by little, and for a while neither of you noticed. It just grew natural for JJ to fix something in the bait shop that you were fussing over, or for you to bring JJ a sandwich or a snack while he worked. You found little ways to make the other’s day brighter, even if subconsciously you never even considered why you were doing these little favors in the first place.

What actually brought the two of you together wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, however. One night, after a long day of work on the house, the Pogues found themselves hanging out above the bait shop, buzzed off of beers, seltzers, and a few joints made of flower grown right from Kiara’s secret spot in the garden. And while the rest of the Pogues eventually found their ways inside and to sleep, JJ and you probably drank a bit too much. One thing led to another, and that was the first night you hooked up. It was slow, passionate, and clumsy, and while the both of you would later blame it on the alcohol and the weed, deep inside you were both fully aware that it was simply the end result of months of pining.

And that’s how you found yourself waking up on the hammock above the bait shop in only one of JJ’s t-shirts and a pair of underwear. The combination of the blinding North Carolina sunrise along with John B.’s extremely loud footsteps on the floor below practically forced your eyes open. While you play the night before over in your head, trying to piece it all together, you’re scrambling to get the rest of your clothes on.

Running downstairs with your shoes untied, you let out a huge “oof” as you collide with your brother, almost sending the two of you to the ground. 

“Good morning to you, too, sis,” John B. says, his eyes expressing his confusion at the fact that you obviously slept upstairs last night.

“Oh, um, sorry, JB, I guess I just drank too much last night and crashed on the hammock,” you practically vomit out.

“Riiiiight,” John B. responds, clearly not convinced but nonetheless wholly uninterested in this situation in the first place. “Just, uh, go shower. You stink.”

Assuming John B.’s comment is a joke, you let out a laugh that immediately sounds forced. “Yeah, uh, that’s what I planned on.”

John B. shoots you a thumbs-up before making his way behind the counter, clearly prepping to open the bait shop for customers. Deciding to avoid any more awkwardness between the two of you, you begin to make your way back to the house. However, your brain can’t help but consider the possibility that only more awkwardness awaits you back in the house, which you’re really not ready to process. You spin around to face John B. at the entrance to the bait shop. “Hey, uh, is JJ up?”

John B. doesn’t even look up from whatever he’s doing at the counter, clearly focused on something else. “Yeah, he took his bike to the grocery store about ten minutes ago, I think.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, and then turn back around to make your way into the house. Occupied with trying to wrack your brain about what exactly happened last night, you again stumble into someone else as you walk through the kitchen.

“Ow,” Sarah squeaks. 

You immediately apologize, looking her in the eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just, uh, didn’t sleep well last night,” you explain, hoping she’ll move out of the way so you can make your way to your bedroom upstairs.

But Sarah, unfortunately, has the attention to detail that your brother lacks. Looking you in the eyes, her brows furrow. “Did you sleep outside last night?”

You scratch your head. “Uh, yeah. Just, uh, crashed after all those drinks, you know?”

One thing that Sarah does share with your brother, however, is her unwillingness to let things go. Clearly noticing that something is on your mind, her eyes stare into yours, as if she thinks that she can figure out everything about you based on your facial expressions alone. And evidently, she can, because she then proceeds to whisper-yell, “Y/N, is that a hickey?”

She lightly taps a new bruise on your neck that JJ must have left last night, and you can feel your cheeks heat up at the action. You bat her hand away, and she smirks when she realizes what you must be hiding. 

“I don’t have time for this,” you blurt out, before maneuvering yourself around Sarah and walking over to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Whatever you say,” she taunts behind you, and you can practically hear her giggle as you make your way up the steps. 

Once you get to your bedroom, you lock the door behind you. Sliding down the wall, you let out a sigh, grateful that you met no more obstacles on the way upstairs. But as soon as your butt hits the ground, reality comes crashing down, and you realize that you have a much harder obstacle to deal with than running into one of your friends in the hallway. Instead, you have to deal with the fact that you slept with JJ Maybank—the man you’ve known practically your entire life who not only happens to be one of your closest friends, but even more than that, is your brother’s best friend. Yeah, you’re screwed.

For the next few days, JJ avoided you at all costs. He didn’t want to face the consequences of what you’d done, and was worried more than anything that his friendship with you (and John B. for that matter) would be ruined. And while you had the same idea for a while, within only a few days you decided that talking about it was the only way to move forward. Knowing JJ’s extensive dating history, you were convinced that JJ would only tell you that it was a mistake and a regret. You prepared yourself for the negative, and found him alone at night in the employees-only area above the tackle and bait shop.

You carefully tiptoe up the stairs to prevent JJ from getting spooked and immediately bailing on the conversation. When he notices your presence, he shoots up from where he was laying on the hammock, just like you had anticipated. “JJ, we need to talk—”

“Y/N—”

“No, please, JJ, just let me speak,” you clarify, before walking closer to him. 

Realizing he doesn’t have any other choice, JJ sighs, gesturing for you to continue.

Working up the nerves, you wring your hands, preparing yourself for a moment that seemed more daunting than any of the actually threatening experiences you’d had with the Pogues over the last few years. “You know me, Jayj. You know that I don’t have one-night stands or casual relationships. And I can’t go on like this, pretending like what happened between us is normal or that I can just ignore it. I know that you’ve probably never had feelings for me, but if I don’t tell you this now, I’ll regret it. I… I like you, JJ.” Taking a breath, you step back, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of your chest. Only now, you have to brace yourself for the inevitable rejection.

Looking into JJ’s eyes, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, and that’s nothing short of terrifying. You’ve known JJ since he was a kid, and he’s not the best liar, so you can usually tell what he’s feeling from the moment you see him. But this time, you’re clueless, and the silence is deafening.

“JJ, please say something. If you’re going to tell me you don’t like me back, then just say it so we can move on and put this behind us.”

He brings his hands to his face, trying to piece the words together. “Just, uh, gimme a minute.” You nod at him, before moving to sit where he’d previously sat on the hammock. You swing your knees up to your chest, hugging them in comfort. 

You watch as he paces the floor around you. It’s not long before he speaks, but it feels like hours as you wait. 

“Y/N, I… We’ve been friends forever. You, me, and John B. It was the three of us for the longest time and then Pope came and then Kiara and… Uh, I’m getting off track.” He starts fidgeting with the ring on his thumb as he looks down at the ground, preparing for what he’s about to say next. “I won’t lie—you’ve always been hot. Like super fucking hot. And I’m not good at relationships or whatever, but I… I like you, too.” 

And your ears can’t believe what they’re hearing, so your head immediately jerks up to meet his eyes. “Wait… you do?” 

He nods, and you can feel a smile beginning to form on your face. “Well, then, why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. 

“Because it doesn’t matter,” JJ answers, and your heart immediately sinks in your chest, once again. “I can’t do this to John B., Y/N. I just can’t.”

“Who cares about him? He’ll get over it. John B. is not my problem.” 

“That’s the point, Y/N! He’ll be there for you no matter what. But the Pogues are basically all I have left. You and John B. are my family, and if I mess shit up with you, I’ll lose you both. And I can’t do that to myself.”

“You won’t mess it up, J,” you reassure, though part of you understands what he’s getting at.

“When have I not messed something up? I mess shit up all the time, and you mean too much to me for me to risk it. You need to go and find someone out there better than me, because as much as it’ll hurt me to see you with someone else, it’d be a lot worse if you were in pain and I was the reason. It’s because I’m in love with you that I wish we’d never done what we did,” he blurts out. 

And while you were trying your best to listen to him carefully, all you heard was him telling you that he’s in love with you. “You… You love me?” you whisper, and JJ’s eyes go back to the floor.

“Of course I fucking do! How could I not? You’re gorgeous and funny and weird and you know me better than anyone else, and I’ll never forgive myself if I ruin shit with you. So just let me go, because this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”

As you process what JJ says, he rushes down the stairs. The heavy pattern of his boots hitting the wooden floors grabs your attention again, and you sprint downstairs to meet him before he can run away completely. You grab his hand and pull him towards you. When his head moves, you can see tears in his eyes, even as the sky gets darker. “It’s not okay to just leave me here after telling me you love me back,” you choke out.

“We can’t—we’ll never be together,” he bites back, trying to sound angry. But you can read right through him, and he knows it. You drop his arm and reach up to grab his face with your hands. Your thumb wipes away a stray tear.

“JJ, you’re right: I do know you better than anyone else. And yes, you’re not the best at relationships. But don’t you think that with us it could be different? That maybe because we know each other so well we can figure it out together?”

He begins to shake his head, but before he can get any more words out, you continue. “JJ, I know everything about you. I know the worst things you’ve done and the best things. You’re always calling me a know-it-all, and yet right now you don’t seem to believe me when I tell you that I know we can do this. We can do it, and it’ll be hard, but it’ll be worth it because I can’t picture myself loving anyone else the way I love you.” And as the tears stream down your cheeks, JJ inches a bit closer to you.

“You… You love me?”

“Of course I do, you idiot. How could I not? You’re the sweetest, kindest, funniest, bravest person I know and my life would be so unbelievably boring if you weren’t in it.”

His eyes look all over your face, trying to see if he can detect a lie. But all he sees is someone so convinced in their feelings, so articulate, and he can’t believe that it’s possible but he might just love you more than he did five minutes ago. 

“Let me deal with John B., okay? I get why you’re scared and I would never want to come between the two of you, but you deserve to be loved, JJ. And I want to be the one who gets to love you.” 

As soon as you get the words out, he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you’re so glad he reached out to hold your waist because otherwise you’d be falling to your knees. It’s magical and romantic and you can taste the salty years you’ve both shed. His right hand moves to grab the side of your face and pull you even closer somehow, before moving back down to your waist and squeezing you in anticipation. The two of you break away, panting. He grips you again and gestures for you to jump, which you do, and you wrap your legs around his back. He carries you over to the counter of the bait shop, where he sets you down. Your legs squeeze his, and he grabs ahold of your face with his hands. “Before we um… do anything else… Are you sure?”

You nod immediately. “Babe, I need the words.”

Your heart clenches at the term of affection, and you pull his shirt to bring him even closer to you. “I am absolutely, positively sure that I love you, JJ Maybank.” He grins so wide you start giggling.

He smashes his mouth back to yours, and this time the kiss is hotter and needier. It’s just a mess of clashing teeth, lips, and hands, with little “I love yous” whispered in between. 

JJ tugs on the bottom of your shirt, and you break away so that he can lift it off, throwing it somewhere else in the shop. His shirt follows, but before he can unclasp your bra, you push him back. “JJ, I’m not fucking you in the bait shop.”

“It’s dark out and no one’s gonna see—”

You jump down from the counter. “It’s either in the house or in the Twinkie. Your choice,” you challenge, and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh come on, people do it all the time,” he justifies, and you look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“What on earth are you talking about?” you ask.

“Hooking up in the bait shop, duh. I caught Pope and Cleo on top of the freezer once, and I’m pretty sure I saw Kiara making out with her ex-girlfriend behind the counter.”

You roll your eyes. “You are literally proving my point,” you say, and he scratches his head. 

“Well, I know for a fact that John B. and Sarah hooked up in the bait shop once and I didn’t see anything!” he explains.

“That’s not any better! You’re talking about my brother!” you whine, and JJ starts to see that you’re not budging. 

He lifts you up bridal-style into his arms, and you squeal. “Fine, my lady, my room it is.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Have you cleaned it recently?” you ask, knowing how messy his room gets. 

“Uh… Like, maybe not super recently. But I can make it nice,” he offers.

You squint. “As nice as my room?”

“Yeah, let’s just go to yours,” he says, and you giggle at how easily he gives in. As he walks down the talk, carrying you in his arms, you can see a smirk grow on his face. “But after we’re done, it’ll be as dirty as mine.”

“JJ!”

so... what did y'all think? I might consider making a part two where john b. finds out. is that something y'all would be interested in??

also... feedback is very much appreciated - pls comment, reblog, send asks, etc.!

[gguk-n]

hey could you maybe write a lando x reader where when it was clear that lando lost the championship the reader just comforts him but he is distancing himself from her but she doesn’t give up on him so pls a happy end ❤️

established relationship, not very angsty, short

My World Champion

Things had been rough between the pair for a few months. With the mounting pressure on Lando to perform had left him pushing all those close to him away. He wasn't very happy with it but he felt like maybe he could focus better. The person who had to deal with the brunt of Lando's distance was his girlfriend, Y/N. They'd been together for a while and friends for longer. They just got each other like no other but lately Y/N felt like she didn't know Lando as well as she used to.

Y/N did try to bring up the distance. It was Azerbaijan, "Lan, don't you think we barely talk" Y/N spoke slowly, trying to start a conversation with her boyfriend who was sat across from her on the sofa. He didn't bother to even look up, "What's there to talk about when I'm busy trying to win a championship. Let me focus" he huffed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought we could spend some time together" Y/N trailed off. "We are sat together right now. How much more time do you want to spend with me?" Lando sighed and finally looked up from his laptop. "I just" she felt her voice die in her throat. 'I don't remember the last time we kissed Lan' her brain thought as she got up and left the room before another fight ensued.

It was during the winter break when things were starting to look up. Lando had just won the Singapore GP, he was more attentive and present; they even cuddled the whole day. Y/N thought that she had her boyfriend back. Oh how wrong she was because as soon as they were back on track; Lando was back to square one. The Austin loss hit deep, making Lando double down on strategising and spending every waking hour with the team or thinking about Formula One. It was like he forgot Y/N existed or for that matter himself. She would sit there and stare at her boyfriend who looked more and more like a stranger with each passing day.

Things had become rocky between them. She felt the divide growing with each passing weekend. Mexico wasn't any better. But Brazil landed a huge blow to Lando. He shut down, he stopped talking to anyone and spent all his time scrolling on his phone. There was nothing she could do without Lando walking out or shutting the door on her face. So, she sat and waited. She would cook his favourite food or leave out his favourite snacks to munch on. But she didn't make much break through on him; as he still chooses to stay reserved, opting to carry the burden alone.

It was after the Las Vegas quali, when Y/N noticed the light begin leave Lando's eyes. All she could offer were words and cuddles but Lando had put up a wall between them. The bed seemed too big for the two of them with either on each side. She stared at the space in between them wondering when it had gotten this big.

After the race, Y/N sighed a sigh of relief. The Championship battle was over and that meant she got her Lando back. She saw glimpses of him when he congratulated Max and couldn't wait to jump into his arms. But it was like Lando was back, just not for her.

That night, they spent it like any other, on either side of the bed. But as Y/N tried to fall asleep, she felt the bed shake. On further inspection, she saw Lando's frame quietly shaking from the sobs as he tried to not make any noise. Her heart hurt watching him, she slowly scooted over causing Lando to stop crying for a moment. She wrapped her arm around his torso and buried her head in his neck. "I love you, my world champion" she whispered causing Lando to turn around. His face was streaked with tears which she carefully wiped off. "I don't like it when you cry" she muttered and pecked his lips. "I thought you fell asleep" Lando mumbled. "Can't sleep without my cuddles" she quipped. "But, I'm not the world champion" was all he muttered, remembering her first comment. "For the world, no. For me, always" she smiled. Lando searched her eyes for anything, but all he found was undeterred love. "And you're not angry?" he asked. "No. I'm happy to watch you compete for the championship because I know, sooner or later you'll win it. Just waiting for that day" she reassured. "I'm sorry for being a dick. I was just" Lando spoke before she cut him off, "over whelmed. I know. But you didn't have to do it all alone. What am I here for?" she spoke tenderly. "I love you" he whispered kissing her for the first time in a long time. "I love you too, muppet" she whispered back. He looked at her for a long time as his hands pulled her closer, running along her frame; "What would I do without you?" he asked. "Crash and burn" she chided. "Agreed" he mumbled pulling her in for another kiss. "You alway know how to make me happy" he mumbled in between kisses. "Only when you listen to me. Otherwise you're Mr Grumpy" she chuckled. "I promise not to be Mr Grumpy anymore" he laughed kissing her again. "Next time I'm grumpy, kiss me. I think all my worries melt away with your kisses" he said pressing her against him. "So, the next time you start an argument, I'm gonna kiss you" she said cupping his cheeks. "Best way to end an argument" he smiled pressing their foreheads together. "I won't disagree" she kissed him again, making up for all the lost time.

[talaok]

Acting Normal

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javi’s been thinking about that night every minute of every day, while you're acting like it never even happened, and if he doesn't do something about it, he's gonna lose his mind.

warnings: smut| fingering, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being a simp, sex in the workplace, (it's not public but there's a possibility of getting caught)

a/n: I already know what to write for part 3, this couple is my new obsession lol

This is a part 2 to this story, but it can be read alone

Javi

This was really important stuff

He was really supposed to be listening

He was paid to listen to it,

that's what he kept repeating himself,

and yet- yet if someone asked him to repeat whatever Carillo was saying, he couldn't have spit out one singular word.

But it wasn't his fault, not really.

You must have been doing it on purpose, there was no way you were doing all that just accidentally.

Your lips were wrapped around the lollipop in a way that left nothing to the imagination- he could feel those lips on him, he knew how soft and sweet they were from kissing them, but around him... oh they would feel even sweeter, he was sure-

"If you're not gonna listen to me then why am I even here?"

It took Javier much too long to realize what Carillo had said

"I'm listening" he stated with enough confidence to fool anyone- except he was talking to one of the few people that could see right through his bullshit.

"I'm surprised you haven't done it yet" the Colonel shook his head, blowing out a cloud of smoke "I thought she would have given in by now"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Carillo couldn't help but laugh.

"You've been obsessed with her since she first arrived"

Javier hadn't even noticed that his gaze was back on you... or that his colleague had spoken again.

"yeah," Carillo chuckled, patting Javi's back "I'll just talk to Murphy"

And that was that, Carillo was gone, and Peña was left at a desk at the corner of the room, staring at you with the intensity with which a lion watches a gazelle.

He didn't know what the fuck to do.

To be completely honest with himself, he'd made a fucking mess.

He'd always been attracted to you, I mean there's not much of you that any man could find not hot, and sure, he'd spent about a year flirting with you as you rolled your eyes at him... but that's just how he was- he never thought it'd ever actually happen- and now...

Now he was fucked

You seemed so incredibly normal around him, like that night a week ago had been just a perfect dream, while him- fuck he couldn't even look at you without picturing how perfect you looked from between your tighs.

He'd thought he could manage to just do it that one time, to get it out of his system... what a stupid fucking bastard- he'd only made everything ten times worse.

And the worst part was that you didn't seem affected by it, not even a little bit- like now, there you were, looking all concentrated and everything, your brows furrowed, your bare legs crossed, one of them swinging ever so often, and your lips... your lips wrapped around the candy were an image sent straight from heaven.

Fuck- he was half fucking hard just by looking at you.

He needed to do something- now- or he was gonna go fucking crazy.

__ __ __

"can I have a talk with you for a moment?"

He was leaning over your desk, not doing a great job of masking his desire.

You, on the other hand, hadn't even looked up from the paper before you.

"what's up?"

what's up?

He'd made you squirt on your boss' desk for fuck's sake, and you tell him what's up??

"Just something I think you could help me out with, in the evidence room"

"now?" you winced, finally looking at him

"Yeah now"

__ __ __

"so what is it? did they misplace a file again-"

"How are you acting so normal?"

A gasp fled your mouth as you turned around and found him but an inch from you

"Jesus" you breathed "what are you talking about?"

"and who even eats lollipops past the age of five?"

He took a step closer and you took a step back, only for your back to hit the wall.

He'd cornered you.

"what is going on with you?" you hissed, only for him to take another slow step, and place his hand on the wall, right next to your head

"you, that's what's going on with me" his breath was fanning over your mouth, images of last week's night flashing both your minds "I've had the best sex of my life with you, and you're acting like it was just another Tuesday night"

"I-"

"I can still taste you on my tongue, I can still feel you around me, and you look at me like I'm nothing more than a fucking colleague y/n"

"Javier-"

"And then" he chuckled darkly, interrupting you once again "and then you have the nerve to suck on a fucking lollipop right in front me-"

A soft laugh couldn't help but bubble up your throat at that.

"Did that seriously... turn you on?"

"So what if it did?" he purred, his left hand finding your waist and forcing you off the wall and flush against him, against the blatant proof of his arousal.

You gasped, your hands clutching the shirt covering his chest.

"you're worse than a hormonal teenager"

His eyes sparked with malice as he bent down, his mouth skimming your mouth and cheeks, leaving shivers in his passage, until he pressed his lips right below your ear.

"A hormonal teen that made you squirt for the first time in your life"

"Javier-" your voice had already reduced to a thread of a whimper.

Fuck him and his irresistible sex appeal.

He was right, no one had ever made you feel as good as he had, and as much as he thought you weren't affected by that knowledge, he'd be shocked to find out how difficult it proved not to squirm every time he merely looked at you.

Yes, of course you were constantly thinking about that night too.

"Tell me you don't think about it"

He was like a mind reader

You stayed silent, conscious that any response you could give would inevitably give you away.

"That's what I thought" A snicker rumbled from his chest, his hand moving from your waist to slide underneath the hem of your skirt.

You hummed, your brain only half functioning as he continued to trail hot wet kisses down your throat.

"W-what are you doing?" you tried to speak normally without success.

"what does it look like I'm doing?" he smirked, his hand now fully cupping your clothed core, making you whine "What I've been thinking of doing for a whole damn week- so I don't lose my mind"

Two of his fingers were circling the wet spot on your panties when a phone rang from the other room, making your eyes snap open.

What the fuck were you doing?

You were at work- anyone could come in at any moment.

"Javier wait," you said, finally getting your voice back to normal.

"what is it, sweetheart?" from the way his eyes were still a thousand shades darker and blatantly staring at your mouth you could have guessed the danger of being caught didn't trouble him one bit.

"We can't"

He groaned frustratedly then, his head falling between your neck and shoulder

"why not sweetheart?"

"are you serious?" a quick laugh bubbled up your throat "we're at work"

"so?"

"so?" you parroted, only your voice was heightening with exasperation "so anyone could catch us at any given moment"

A soft smirk pulled at his lips, the hand that was still on your wall going to your waist to get you flush against him

"Are you ashamed of me sweetheart?" he teased

"Well, to be completely honest having sex with the biggest slut in Columbia isn't exactly my highest moment"

He feigned a gasp, his hot breath fanning over your own parted mouth

"Me? A slut?"

"yeah, you" You couldn't fight the smile pulling at your lips.

There he was, doing it again- making all your common sense fly out the window with his godforsaken charm.

"c'mon baby, I'll be quick"

And although you didn't want to, you could see yourself starting to consider his proposal.

"that's supposed to convince me?" you arched a brow, an amused smile pulling at your lips

"What, you think I can't make you come quickly?" he purred, his hand going to your ass in a swift move to grab at it.

You bit down a whine "Well I don't know"

"tell me you don't want it" he teased, the fingers on your core starting a torturous path up and down your still-clothed, but unbelievably drenched, slit "That you don't want this"

His fingers had trespassed your panties and had now found your raw skin, making you gasp

"anyone could come in us, including Messina" you added breathlessly

"I locked the door" he promised, his forehead on yours as his ring and middle finger gently found their way inside of you.

"a-and what if someone needs to get in?" you tried your best not to moan, but the way he curled his fingers made it so very fucking difficult

"then we'll tell them to fuck off" he murmured, his mouth now touching yours, but still not kissing you.

"If we get caught I'm gonna kill you, we clear?"

"yes ma'am" he smirked, his breath mixing with yours

"now- may I kiss you, baby?"

You rolled your eyes before answering "Yes, you may"

And just like that, he was devouring you, his lips crashing with yours and his tongue sliding into your mouth to explore every inch of it, gaining dominance on your own in a matter of seconds.

"fuck I missed this" he groaned, his fingers suddenly speeding up and robbing you of all ability to tease him about his words "these fucking lips are gonna be the death of me"

Your mouth was open as you desperately tried to get oxygen to your lungs, but he didn't care, he took your bottom lip into his mouth and started sucking, his fingers fastening their pace as the filthy sound of your wetness bounced off the walls of the room.

"tell me you thought about it too" he growled, his palm making contact with your clit and forcing you to gasp as your hips started grinding onto it, onto his hand, sparks of pleasure staining your vision. "tell me I'm not the only crazy one baby"

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as you felt yourself grow closer to a release.

"shit- you look so fucking hot when you're about to come"

"I-" your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could feel the heat of his stare on you, the way his eyes never left you, not even as he kissed your neck, the soft stubble of his mustache tickling your skin "I've thought about it too javi"

The satisfied groan he let out told you just about everything you needed to know.

"When?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his fingers relentless

"A-always" you whimpered, "e-everytime I look at you"

shit- maybe you shouldn't have said that

"yeah?" a wolfish grin tugged at his lips "You think about me? about my cock? my fingers? my tongue?"

You mewled at his words, at the memory they brought with them, at how fucking good he was making you feel-

"J-Javi please"

"what?" he breathed, his mouth on yours again, your hips grinding shamelessly onto his hand "You're gonna come baby, 's that it?"

"y-yeah- fuck- I-"

he knew the signs by now, he knew those desperate breathless sounds you made just as you reached your peak- and god did he fucking love them

"come for me- come baby" he murmured, his lips crushing with yours to stifle your moans just as your walls spasmed around his digits- wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Oh how he loved seeing the strong fiery woman he saw every day come apart beneath him, all your walls crumbling down 'till there was just pure lust and pleasure beneath your eyes, 'till your body went limp and clung to him for support.

"fuck" you breathed your eyes finally opening again, only to find that his had never left yours. "I-" you gulped, but his lips were on yours again, his hands holding your face on each side, his fingers now out of you.

"w-we should get back," you said, mostly trying to remind yourself, of where you really were, of what you were really doing... but it was all so difficult when he was looking at you like that- when you could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans- the same one that had felt so fucking good inside of you.

"we should" he agreed, although a twisted grin played on his lips.

he was already kissing you again, exploring you again, and in no time you found yourself caged between him and a shelf filled with boxes of evidence, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Damn him

"People are gonna start wondering where we are"

"we're here... looking at evidence," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his hips grinding onto you, his mouth on the corner of your lips.

"fuck- fine," you murmured, the need for him stronger than anything at this point, even than the fear of getting fired.

He didn't waste a second- his dick was out in a heartbeat, and your panties were pulled to the side before you had even time to breathe.

His tip, his red, glistening tip found your entrance, making you gasp.

"c-condom" you suddenly remembered, your voice so feeble it was almost inaudible "Please tell me you've got a condom"

"fuck- you're right" he muttered, frustration tracing his tone "I should have one in my wallet"

Of course he had one in his wallet

His left hand reached into his back pocket, finding his wallet and taking the condom out of it as quickly as he could, throwing the wallet somewhere to the side.

You were supporting yourself all on your own as he rolled the condom onto his dick, which might sound easy... but seeing the state of your leg it really was a miracle.

It was all so fast, he seemed desperate as he guided his tip to your entrance, as he gripped your waist and kissed your lips while entering you.

He was so fucking big, definitely the biggest one you'd ever encountered, and not only that... but he fucking knew how to use it too.

It was impossible not to moan, and for him, it was impossible not to groan- let's just say the possibility of getting caught wasn't first on the list of things in your mind at the moment.

"fuckfuckfuck" you whimpered, letting out a soft cry when he finally bottomed out

"Jesus Christ you feel fucking perfect" he growled, his eyes on yours, his hands gripping your waist as he tried his best to give you a moment to adjust and not start to fuck you like an animal right away.

"J-Javi"

And that, that little plead in your voice was all he needed to hear.

There was no way the sound of your skin slapping with his couldn't be heard from outside.

He felt so fucking good- criminally so.

"oh my g-" you had to bite down on something, and the little sliver of skin his shirt didn't cover right where his shoulder met his neck seemed much too perfect for your need.

He groaned, the bastard fucking groaned in pleasure as your teeth sank down into his skin, and you swore to god you could have come from that sound alone.

Your hands were laced between his neck, fingers taking hold of whatever hair you could grab, as he thrust up into you like a man starved, and you did all you could to meet his movements with the same urgency.

It had only been a week, and yet it felt like it'd been an eternity- a torturous, awful eternity of daying yourself of this.

"been thinking about this every fucking minute this week" his voice was breathy, hoarse, as he whispered to your ear "about this perfect fucking pussy of yours- about your mouth, about how- Fuck me-" his own growl interrupted him, your walls were squeezing him much too fucking tight "how good you taste, how hot you look when I'm eating you out- about this fucking perfect body of yours" he purred "Jesus christ you make me lose my mind"

You couldn't help but moan, moan at his words, at his pace, at the way his touch sent sparks flying in your belly- it was all too much.

"You've gotta be quiet baby" he murmured as you raised your head to look at him, to beg him for something- anything.

"I know sweetheart, I know" he breathed, his lips skimming yours "I know issa lot"

And to think you couldn't even stand him seven days ago... look at you now- looking into his eyes pleadingly as he fucked you in the evidence room.

"Javi" you could only breathe as his mouth crashed with yours once again, "I'm gonna-"

"I know"

Of course he knew

And just like that, you were over the edge, his tongue in your mouth muffling your cries as his thrust got more erratic, and somehow even more powerful.

Once again, he'd given you the best orgasm of your life.

He tried to hold off to let you ride it out, but fuck him it was proving to be real fucking difficult.

And then you opened your eyes- your beautiful, dreamy, eyes that he'd been dreaming of for days and there was no point in fighting it anymore-

"F-fuck y/n- fuck-"

There was a loud thud somewhere behind you, but neither of you cared enough to look, or god forbid stop- there was only you, you, and the spectacular groan Javier fed you into a kiss as he finally reached his climax.

There was only the sound of your breathing, both your heavy breathings as you looked at each other- and then you smiled, and he couldn't help but do the same.

And then all of the sudden the sounds from the office started flowing into the room again.

Oh right

"we really have to get back"

"yeah" he halfheartedly agreed, slowly setting you back on your feet, only in doing so, something caught your eye.

"fuck"

There were files on the floor- there were files on the floor because you'd knocked down some of the boxes of evidence- and you hadn't even noticed.

Javier followed your line of sight, but while panic was setting in your heart, he began to smile

"don't laugh!" you hissed, "what the fuck do we do? How do we explain this?"

"we don't" he simply shrugged, closing his zipper back up as you quickly tried to make yourself presentable.

"What?"

"we were never here- now, get back out there"

"I-"

"trust me" he said, retrieving his wallet from the floor.

And for some fucking reason, you did- you trusted him.

"I hate you so much" you muttered, finally exiting the room.

Tg:@fallout-girl219

[doll-for-you-11]

Dripping at the idea of my perfect relationship.

Sweet guy, older than me, gentlemanly as can be. Opens doors, pulls out my chair, helps tie my shoes. My mom loves him, he dresses nicely, he's polite, he holds my hand, drapes an arm around my waist in public. Kisses my hair when I do something cute. Gentle, sweet, caring...but thats only in public (or when something is wrong).

The second the front door closes, Im nothing but a pathetic rape doll to him. If I'm not naked and on my knees within 30 seconds of the door locking, Im whipped and edged for hours, no hope of cumming for the next week.

I do not have a name when we're alone. Slut, whore, puppy, cunt, any degrading name he can think of. Even if nothing remotely sexual is happening. He's cooking dinner for us and asks for a plate from the cupboard behind me. "Give me a plate my little Slut", we're out of milk "Puppy, add milk to the shopping list".

Randomly without warning gripping my hair and throwing me over the arm of the couch just to slap my ass and run his fingers through my pussy to check how wet I am. (I'm always soaked). Just to let me go and walk away again, leaving me panting and desperate for pleasure I know I don't deserve.

But he's still kind, he still loves me, so he permits me pleasure on his own terms. Eating me out, but only if he continues until Im a sobbing shaking oversensitive mess. Allowing me to cum, but only if I've "been good" although the definition of "good" will change by the hour. Spending days edging me, coating my tits in his cum to walk around the house all day proudly showing it off, only to tell me Im only allowed to cum if I'm able to do so from grinding on his dirty work boots.

Chained, Collared, Caged, Flogged and Degraded as my natural place in our home. Knowing that no one besides us knows how pathetic of a little whore I am behind closed doors. Unable to function if Im not being used in some way.

Fucked dumb every night so rough that at this point the soreness in my legs and cunt are permanent. Trained over time so well that my mind melts away the second I step over the doorstep into the house. Any semblance of consciousness gone in an instant. Nothing left but a perfect little fuck toy, more than eager to display my holes for his pleasure.

[reiderwriter]

📃 Desk Duty 📃

Unit Chief Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: After taking a bullet on a case, Spencer orders you to desk duty. After two months of pushing papers and his pushing you away for fear of hurting you, you've had enough.

Warnings: Established BDSM scenario, public sex, masturbation (female and male), mentions of sex toys, breaking and entering, multiple orgasms, squirting, shoe riding, slapping (ass, face, pussy), wet/dirty/messy sex, deep-throaring, face fucking, exhibitionism, risky sex, creampie, sloppy sex, pet play (puppy), Hard Dom Spencer, bratty sub reader, degradation (slut, whore, bitch used). Confessions of love at the end because I'm not a monster.

A/N: Hello, it's me, painfully single, back with another in a series of fics that I think will haunt my (wet) dreams for eternity. Thank you to @lightvixxen for requesting shoe riding all those moons ago, I am so glad we share in the same brand of brain rot. Enjoy~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

The first time you were shot, you were surprised it hurt so much. Of course, you knew it was going to hurt. You knew you'd eventually be shot. 

But the graze to your arm stung like a bitch, and had you whimpering on the floor of a warehouse like a small child who'd fallen off their bike for the first time. 

You'd picked yourself back up, and, luckily, the shot had avoided doing any serious damage, but you were relegated to desk duty for two months after. Just until you could prove you weren't traumatised, and there wasn't any permanent damage to your arm.

Two months of staying home while your boss gallivanted around the country, happily diving in front of bullets and jumping on bombs. Two months of staying home waiting for him to come back and rail you. 

You'd been sleeping with Spencer Reid practically since he'd become the Unit Chief, and with the announcement that there were only a few more weeks left until Emily Prentiss came back from her special task force, you were really losing time alone in the office you'd been enjoying the pleasures of one another in. 

Of course, there would still be motel rooms for you later, but soon he wouldn't have the keys to your room, making your secret trysts slightly riskier. You weren't sure you wanted everyone in the office to know just what it was the two of you were getting up to in your spare time. 

So, with your last two months of freedom relegated to desk duty, you sulked. 

Spencer was clear that he was leaving you behind so you could recuperate, but you didn't exactly expect him to go cold turkey. 

You'd been apart before, having been sent on separate inmate interviews, and you'd made do with a poorly connected video call, a dildo and your hands, getting all the inspiration you needed watching him pump his cock in his fist.  

But somehow, your injury had made him borderline chaste, and he refused to even touch you while you were still in - his words, not yours - recovery. 

It had been a month since he'd fucked you. Hell, it had been a month since you'd even seen his cock. A month since you'd had any kind of orgasm, first because your dominant hand had been out of action, and then because you'd felt so frustrated without him, you couldn't bring yourself to do it alone. 

He messaged you daily, called practically once every eight hours, and made sure you were eating and sleeping even from halfway across the country. 

But he didn't make any mention of your growing frustration, even as you tried your best to tempt him into sin. 

A month into purgatory, you'd started hinting at your own needs. Your teammates had taken a case in Atlanta, and you'd stuck behind a days drive away and heard absolutely nothing. 

You'd called, and Luke had picked up, making his presence known before you could royally screw up and beg for something to fuck. 

“H-Hi, Luke. I was just wondering how the case was going. Is there anything I can help with from the office?” You asked, stammering on the phone as you pulled your hand out from between your thighs. 

“You want to help? At 11pm at night?”

“Sure do! You know me… go-getter?” You stuttered the words, not even believing them yourself, biting your lip in anxiety and hoping that Luke would just think you were going stir crazy. 

“I'll hand you to Reid, he's been talking about some case files you might be able to help with.” 

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

You heard the phone switch hands, and then you heard movement until the line went quieter, and Spencer's voice popped into your ear. 

“Y/N?” 

“I miss you,” you sighed before you could say anything else, fingers sliding between your thighs before you could think to stop yourself. 

“I miss you, too,” he whispered hesitantly, but you heard the smile in his voice as he answered. 

“You're working so late tonight, I'd hoped…” you trailed off, feeling your skin heat as your free hands lipped into your underwear and you touched yourself for real this time. 

“We think he's working under the same MO as the Night Stalker, like a copycat, so we're keeping to late hours. What's that sound?” 

“Nothing,” you said, giving your lie away almost immediately with a moan. 

“Are you… Y/N, are you touching yourself?” He asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I told you I missed you. It's been a month since you've touched me, someone has to do it-” 

“Stop it.” 

His words were blunt, and there was no hint of excitement in them, no telling if he was saying this so he could play a part in your unravelling. 

“What?” 

“Stop touching yourself. Y/N, you are not allowed to touch yourself.” 

“Not-? Spencer, what the fuck!” You exploded, sitting up from your comfortable position on the bed, set alight in indignance. 

“I'm the only one that gets to touch you like that, you're not allowed to cum unless I'm there,” he ground out, and just as you heard the smile in his voice earlier, you heard the frustration and arousal now. 

“Well, Spencer, if you'd have brought me along on this case instead of leaving me here, maybe you'd get a say in who gets to make me cum.” 

“Y/N, you're injured, and you haven't been cleared to fly. A doctor needs to-”

“You're a doctor. Technically. You could sign off on me. You could've had me right there in your bed tonight, but no.” 

He scoffed down the line, and you saw his face flash so vividly in your head that it pissed you off. He was hotter when he was angry. 

“Nice try. I tried that myself once, but it doesn't work. Now go to sleep and get some rest.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but he hung up. His words lit a fire in the pit of your stomach, and you threw the phone down in frustration. 

He wasn't listening again, and you were sick of it, and you we're sick of pushing paper at a cubical when you should've been out in the field doing your actual job. You were sick of being celibate and at home alone, when you should've been in a dark corner somewhere letting your boss use your body, letting him pin you to the wall and work out his frustrations.  

You should've had your lips wrapped around his cock, you should've had his hands buried in your cunt, slapping your ass, his teeth teasing your nipples, something. 

Instead, you had your phone camera and a bed, and a personal vendetta against the word 'no' coming from Spencer Reid's mouth. If he wanted you to stop touching yourself, he'd better get his ass home and make you. 

Shedding your clothes, you set up your camera and began your week long crusade. 

The first video received a response in the form of a call you let go straight to voice mail as you recorded the second one. 

He didn't call again after that, but you knew he watched each and every video you sent. 

You knew he watched the video of you fucking yourself on a wall mounted dildo in the shower. You wondered if he let him imagine it was him, taking his cock in hand in the morning as he washed and prepared himself for the day. 

You knew he watched the video of you playing with your boobs alone in the elevator at work after hours. You wondered if he was still working late when he saw that one, or if, like last time, maybe Luke had grabbed his phone first and seen it before him. . 

You knew he watched the video you shot in his apartment. It wasn't that hard to get into, knowing exactly where the spare key was hidden and letting yourself in comfortably. You let yourself dress in one of his shirts and set the camera up, pushing a bullet vibe inside yourself, and turning on the camera, playing with the hem of the shirt and the sheets below until you finally flashed the camera and him the sight of your wet cunt. 

You filmed a few videos there, fingering yourself, spreading yourself so he could see just how far you'd opened yourself up for him, sinking down on to progressively bigger silicone cocks and mumbling his name over and over again. 

You knew he watched every video, even though you'd sent ten over the space of an evening. You knew he was likely somewhere stroking his large, hot cock, wishing he was buried deep in you, but too stubborn to let you know that now. 

The day after the case ended, you knew that his return meant punishment, but you couldn't stop yourself. 

An hour before the teams expected arrival time, you excused yourself to Spencer's office. The first time he'd fucked you had been in there. He'd pushed you over his lap and slapped some sense into you, spanking you until you were a drippy mess waiting for his cock to enter you sharp and fast. 

You'd since sucked his cock under the desk more times than you could count, and the view from the window was more than familiar to you as you enjoyed being pushed up against it as he took you from behind, the both of you revelling in the fact that anyone could see you defiling the building together. 

With half an hour to spare before he returned and ended your fun and games, you mounted the arm of his couch and began rubbing yourself against it. You rocked your hips slowly back and forth against it - as horny as you were, it was still embarrassing to be so horny you'd resulted to humping pieces of furniture to meet your needs. 

You'd thought about getting drunk and finding a random dick to take home with you, but it didn't interest you half so much as fucking with Spencer Reid did. You'd never had the talk about exclusivity, but you knew just as well as he did that you were locked in. He was your boyfriend, whether he realised it or not.

And now, you simply needed his cock so badly, nothing else would do. The closest you could get was a piece of furniture he'd fucked you on before. 

You slipped your panties off quickly as your timer sounded a ten minute warning, knowing his plane would be landing any second now. You'd factored in the walk from the jet to the office, praying to the gods above that he took the initiative to get ahead on paperwork instead of going straight home. 

You rocked back and forth on the arm of the couch until his door opened narrowly and he let himself in, just as your clit rubbed the corner of the couch and you moaned out gloriously. 

“Y/N,” he hissed as he slammed the door shut. You didn't stop even as he crossed the room and grabbed your hips, instead lunging for his lips and meeting them with your own. 

Your tongue clashed with him for the first time in a lifetime, and you whimpered at how good he still felt pressed up against you. His chest was a solid shield, and your puffy nipples pushed up against it, rubbing deliciously with each grind. His hands were large, his fingers long as they clawed themselves around your hips and drew you up.

“You just can't follow orders, can you?” He asked between kisses, between breaths where you weren't sure if he'd slap you or shove his fingers down your throat. “I should fire you,” he whispered as he reluctantly pulled away. 

“But Spencer,” you said, gasping jokingly as you pawed at the front of his pants. “Who would you fuck on cases then? Who would be your controversially young fuck doll?” 

You meant it to be a joke, but the slap he delivered to your ass made you think twice as you clapped a hand over your mouth. 

His hands roughly pulled you into him again, and you were unable to rise up enough again before he hit you again. You jilted forwards with a little moan and just gave in to the sensation, pressing your face into the pillows as your hips rose. 

“You're acting like such a desperate little slut, I don't think you deserve to even lick my cock. Fuck, I don't even think you deserve to lick my shoe,” his words cut deep as you realised how angry he was, his fingers tangling in your hair he yanked you upwards. 

“Wait, please - Spencer, please, I need-” 

“Need what? You need to suck cock? You need to put yourself on display in a public place? Need everyone around you to know just what it is we do when we're alone?” With each question, he worked on bruising your ass cheeks harder, until he finally pushed you to the floor, and you sank down, automatically spreading your legs for him. 

“Pathetic. You don't deserve this cock, baby.” 

“No!” You cried out, not willing to accept that outcome at all as you panicked. “I'll do anything, please, Spencer, I'll do anything!” 

You whimpered and cried out in real frustration and fear, knowing that he absolutely would kick you out if you didn't act fast. Spencer may have been fine with you taking control some days, but this obviously wasn't one of them. You sat yourself on your knees and clasped your hands together, attempting to seem half the serious devotee and half the irresistible vixen whose chest was accentuated by the movement.

“Okay. Show me just how much of a desperate slut you are,” he said, lifting his foot from the ground and nudging it between your thighs. 

Reluctantly, you widened your stance, spreading apart just enough for him to notch his shoe against your clothed pussy. 

“Ride my shoe, Y/N. You're such a good little boot-licker. It shouldn't be a problem, right?” As if to answer your own question for you, he bobbed his knee gently, and your clit ground into the edge of his shoelaces, causing a sharp, fast burst of pleasure to spark through you. 

You still were too shocked to answer, but he smoothed your hair from your eyes as he continued to bounce his foot, and you left all of your concerns behind, slowly grinding down. 

“What a dirty little slut, I didn't think you'd actually do it.”

Wrapping your arms around his leg, you pressed your hips up and down hesitantly, looking into his eyes as your mouth dropped open in a silent moan. 

“That's it, good girl,” he said, letting his leg go still as you did all the work, shaking your hips back and forth on his shoe as you gave him pleading looks, unable to form words for the overwhelming shame and embarrassment.  

“You look like a puppy,” he blurted out, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling it back, hard, exposing your throat to him as he watched you with curious eyes. “Like one of those puppies who gets so excited to see you, she starts humping you. So fucking horny and desperate. You wouldn't even care who was in the room with us, right now, would you? You'd just keep going until yiu came.” 

You gasped as he slapped your face, tongue falling out of your mouth as he inspected his little play puppy. He smiled, as if happy with your reactions, and leant back on the sofa, releasing your hair from his grip as you continued to struggle in vain toward your orgasm. 

It was another two or three seconds before you realised he was pulling his hard cock from his pants, and another moment or two before he slid his hands back into your hair and guided your dumb, stupid, wet mouth over the top of his cock quickly. 

You let him move your head just how he liked, let him push you down almost farther than you thought you could go. You ground your bare clit down into his shoe as you deepened your breaths, relaxing your body as you took inch after inch of his cock down your throat. 

His hands were wound so tight in your hair that there wasn't space to move. You gagged, once and twice, but he held you in place still, enjoying the spit that spluttered around the base of his cock, the spasms of your contracting throat against the tip and length of his cock. You breathed deeply, ignoring the feeling of his pubic hair tickling your nose, scratching your cheek as you flattened out your tongue under his cock. You wished he would move, wished he would give you the space you needed to cum faster. 

The desperation of the last few months built up and built up, and you knew that you were close to cumming, your hips rocking out of tempo now, crashing into his foot wildly, ass shaking as you felt his shoelaces rubbing uncomfortably against your thighs. 

“God, what a pathetic little bitch, are you going to cum? Cum on my shoe, whore, show me how fucking desperate you are.” 

You felt the exact moment your body convulsed against him, you knew the exact movement that made you cum, because you felt the flood of moisture pool underneath you as you squirted all over his floor. You made a note of reminding him to replace the rug before Emily returned. 

Your whole body shook as you sat in the pool of your own cum, but he refused to let you pull away. 

“Has my little puppy made a mess? What a shame. You can't stop yet, though.” 

His grip on your face somehow became stronger, though not unpleasant, as he pulled your head up the length of his cock. You spluttered slightly, feeling the tension slip out of you as he emptied your throat. You didn't have more than a second to react before he quickly snapped your head back down over his cock, down to the base of his dick. 

“Keep up, Y/N, this is what you wanted, remember.” 

You choked on his cock, and he smiled down at you, taking your gags for nods as he proceeded to fuck your throat, deep and hard. 

“So wet and warm for me, like a perfect little pet,” he said, hips already lifting off the couch as he tried to sink deeper into you. 

You knew from experience that he'd soon grow tired of the limits of your mouth. He liked to hear you. He liked to see you drooling rather than feel it on his skin. As much as he could force his cock down your throat - and you deeply enjoyed when he did - he could get deeper if he sank into your pussy and you both knew it. 

This part was just to lube his cock up, nice and wet, until he could take you nice and quick without having to touch your pussy. He needed you nice and wet and ready for him, especially on days like today where you'd been nothing but a cock tease in need of a harsh fucking. You deserved nothing more.

As predicted, he pulled your head off his cock after a few seconds and hauled you to your feet. You tried to climb onto him, to grip his cock in your hand and just sink down where you belonged, but he stood, too, lifting you up with him. 

“Window,” he said, and you knew he must be close if he was ordering you around one word at a time. You nodded, but he kept his hands on you, moving you to the window quickly. 

You knew he'd bend you over, take you against the outdoor window, whispering in your ear that anyone outside could see you if they just looked up. Instead, this time, he moved you to the opposite side of the office. The window he pressed you against was the one overlooking your desks, the one where, should he happen to open the blinds, every member of your team would be able to look up and watch you take his dick. 

“Everyone left,” he whispered quickly as he shifted the blinds up an inch so you could see. 

You breathed a sigh of relief noting that it was as empty as he claimed, but it didn't last long as he gently pressed his cock into your cunt, finally filling you how you'd needed to be filled for the last 60 days. 

“Fuck, t-thank you, sir!” 

All thoughts about the office below faded as he lifted your leg in his hand and let it rest on the edge of the window, pushing your face against the cold glass. Your office may have been empty, but that wasn't to say that there wasn't someone working late in the other departments, a janitor happening to pass through. 

You knew, but you didn't care as you begged him to fill you up more and more. 

“Just like that, just like that, yes!!! Fuck yes, Spencer I missed this, I missed you. Missed you so much,” you moaned as your hands slipped down the glass, already fogged with condensation, your hot breath hitting the cold glass. 

“Needed this? You've been fucking yourself nightly for the last week. You didn't need this like I needed this,” he moaned, biting into your neck with a sharp kiss as you moaned loudly for him.

“Two m-months. You haven't fucked me for two months, what else was I supposed to do?” 

He groaned in your ear again, reaching a hand around you and slapping your clit as he formulated an answer. 

“Rest, you were supposed to rest,” he said, thrusts speeding up as your cunt gripped him tighter and tighter the closer you got to your second orgasm. 

He groaned and pressed your face into the glass, holding you there and screwing his eyes shut as you both chased release. 

“I didn't want to rest, I w-wanted to be by your side.” 

His head rested against your shoulder as he felt the last waves of pleasure race towards him. His hand pushed down to your clit and rubbed you, sending you right over the edge with him as he filled you with his cum. 

Neither of you could stay upright, collapsing down to the floor in a heap. Usually when he came inside you, he waited a few moments to pull out so he didn't make so much mess when he did. But in his exhaustion, in your shared bliss of finally reaching that precipice after so long, he slipped out early, as cum was still shooting from him. 

You heaped together on the floor, chests heaving as you lay on top of him, your peace only broken by a single thought. 

“We..-’ you gasped, breathing unsteady. “We need to deep clean this office before Emily comes back.” 

He looked down at you, a look so serious and shocked you wondered if he was angry. And then he laughed. Short and soft, he giggled, and you couldn't help but join in, wrapping your arms around your stomach as it began to hurt, chest heaving from the pain of all your joy. 

He sat up and gave you a hand up as well as you surveyed the damage. 

“The rug has to go,” you said, feeling hot and embarrassed as you noticed the new wet stain on the near offensive fluffy thing. 

“We should probably get some new throw pillows, too,” he remarked, and you nodded with a grimace. You made to stand up, but your legs felt weak, and you wobbled, but he was there to catch you, as he stood. 

"Maybe just a new couch," you muttered, flushed with heat as you remembered how you'd humped the arm rest not even twenty minutes ago.

He closed the blinds before moving back to the couch and sitting you down on his lap once again, such a familiar place for you to be these days.

“You….” He started, worrying g his bottom lip with his teeth. “You really missed me?” 

You startled, taken aback by the question. You thought the videos had made it clear, let alone the last half hour of intimacy. 

“I… Yes, Spencer. I missed you a lot. I always miss you.” 

“You… you do?” 

You nodded again and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. 

“Y/N, when I am no longer your boss, in approximately a weeks time, would you possibly consider being my girlfriend?” 

For the second time in the last two minutes, the man had you floored. And perhaps a little bit angry.

“I'm not… I'm not your girlfriend now?” 

“Hmm? Oh, I-” 

“Because I already told my friends about you, and I was definitely saying the word boyfriend, but if that's not what this is, I can correc-” 

You saw the panicked look in his eye as he pulled you in for one last kiss. 

“That's what this is!” he said frantically, cutting you off when you opened your mouth with another kiss. “I thought you wouldn't think that this was- no!” He kissed you again as you tried again to speak. 

“Listen to me! I'm o-older than you, I thought I had to ask still. Do people not ask anymore?” He kissed you before you could answer. 

“Rhetorical question.”

“I love yo-” you attempted to confess, but his lips covered yours swiftly, even as his eyes opened wide when he pulled away. 

“Wait, no, say that again,” he begged, eyes weak and shiny and absolutely endearingly pathetic. 

You shook your head and sealed your lips, miming, zipping them shut and throwing away the key. 

“Y/N! Tell me again, tell me you love me again,” he said, kissing each of your cheeks. You poked his chest hard, and he kissed you once more. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, and kissed you again, trying to draw from your lips the words he had cut off earlier, losing himself in the pleasure of the moment as you sat together in the dark office, totally enamoured with one another. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Saving Genya from his big brother only to make out with Sanemi

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,9k

Synopsis: It was never an easy job, being the only one who's able to calm the wind hashira down. There was never more than respect and understanding between both of you. Until you bodly decided to stand up for Genya, until Sanemi finally reveals his true feelings...

Warnings: We're talking about Sanemi so language at violence lol, aggressive making out

I love love love Sanemi and I desperately hope you do as well hehe, enjoy and leave a comment/like/reblog <3

There he stands with his hot temper filling the air and his ruthless beatings torturing the poor souls in front of you. Hashira training never sounded like fun to you, especially when you consider who you’d have to deal with.

Sanemi Shinazugawa, especially.

“Get back up, brat. We’re not finished yet.”

You watch from afar as he hits the poor red-haired poor over and over again. Without any mercy, without the slightest hint of regret. And still, you can’t help but ponder about the way his arms flex and show every vein that decorates his skin. How he moves so effortlessly that your eyes are almost unable to follow. No, it’s not a secret that apart from being a madman, Sanemi Shinazugawa is hot as hell.

And your crush since you joined the demon slayer corps.

“Don’t you think that’s enough for today? The poor boy isn’t even able to stand up straight anymore”, you interfere when he’s about to hit him once again.

 "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were the expert on disciplining. How about me fetching you a chair so you can supervise more comfortably?”

All pairs of eyes are set on you while you step towards the scene in death silence. Apart from everyone else, you aren’t here to train under Sanemi. No, you are a very capable demon slayer yourself, so good that you even managed to beat Mitsuri from time to time. You definetely don’t need Sanemi to train.

In fact, you are here because you’re the only one who is able to tame him apart from Kagaya-sama himself.

"Well, if you ask me so nicely, a chair actually doesn’t sound bad for the next time. Meanwhile, how about we wrap this up? Enough's enough."

Sanemi’s venomous eyes meet yours, tempting you to lose your cool. Within the past few months, you’ve learned how to act around him and that his actions don’t reflect his true feelings at all. Deep within, he is the most caring and compassionate person you’ve ever met, so tender that you’d simply melt away in his touch. He never failed to protect you even if not needed, always made sure you are save before looking out for himself. Damn, he even left his desert for you to eat.

But on the other hand, he’s very good at hiding that side of him.

“Fine. Call it quits for today then. But we two will have a talk later”, he finally mutters before turning around and disappearing without any trace.

Your heart skips a few beats before you’re able to think straight again. Oh, how much you adore him. Just the sheer thought of meeting him alone sends shivers down your spine even though nothing ever happened between you two. After all, you’re only here to look out for him, right?

“Thank you for standing up for me. Now you’ll get in trouble for helping me out”, the red-haired boy lying in front of your feet speaks out while dragging himself up.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I can handle him. Are you alright?”

In the matter of seconds, your eyes scan his body for serious injuries. Nothing, as you expected. Even though his training methods seem rough, he’d never allow himself to truly lay hands on another corps member. Not even him, Kamado Tanjiro. The boy who has what Sanemi always dreamed of.

“Yes, thanks to you. We really need a break after training day and night. Sorry, may I ask you for your name?

“My name is (y/n). Nice to finally meet you in person, Kamado Tanjiro.”

His eyes widen in an instant when you tell him your name. Even though you’re not a hashira, it seems like a lot of corps member know you. A decently skilled swordswoman, a trained doctor who made sure that no one ever died as long as you were around.

“The angel”, he breathes out.

“What an honor to meet you in person!”

In an instant, he gets on his knees and places his head on his flat palms. A pose of deep respect, so intimate that your cheeks heat up in an instant.

“Please, lift yourself off the ground. I don’t deserve your praise-“

“You deserve so much more than that!”, Tanjiro interrupts in an instant.

“Leave her alone. Can’t you see that you’re making her uncomfortable?”, another voice mutters from behind.

A very familiar voice you haven’t heard in quite some time, that makes your heart jump up and down in joy.

“Genya!”, you cry out.

You waste no time. In an instant, you lunge yourself at the now much taller boy and wrap your arms around him so tightly that he cannot escape. Oh, you really missed him. Even though Sanemi states over and over how much he hates his little brother, you always had a weak spot for him. Maybe because you’re able to see his soft side as well or because of the cute way he blushes when you look at him.

“Genya, are you alright? Your face is so red-“

“SHUT UP”, he barks at Tanjiro while you giggle to yourself.

“Why didn’t you send me a crow like I told you to? I was beyond worried about you. But oh I’m so proud. Did you really help to kill an upper moon demon and supported your friends?”

“Well I-“

“Yes he did! He was a big help for all of us!”, Tanjuro interferes immediately.

“(y/n), didn’t I tell you we need to talk?”, someone suddenly barks from the inside.

All color drains from Genya’s face immediately as he turns around with you.

There he stands with his arms crossed in front of his muscular chest, eyes almost piercing through you while the vein on his forehead threatens to pop any minute.

Your heart sinks in an instant. No, don’t let him control you like that, not when you know that he’s just…jealous?

“I needed to talk to Genya first”, you clarify.

“(y/n), please don’t-“

“Oh, is that so? Why would you even look at that trash?”

Thick anger rushes through your veins like the flood. If there’s one thing you hate about Sanemi’s attitude, it’s the way he talks about his little brother.

“I’m looking at you as well, don’t I?”

He flinches ever so slightly, his furrowed eyes now piercing through you like a thousand knives.

“Get inside. Right now.”

“Get some rest you two”, you quickly shout over your shoulder before you disappear into the house with a furious Sanemi by your side.

He slams the door shut behind you so rapidly that it rains plaster.

“What was that, huh?”, he speaks out with threatening low voice.

“I asked your little brother about his mission.”

He cages you between the wall with no way to escape, dangerous eyes locked with yours.

“I told you to stay away from him.”

“And I told you that I don’t care.”

“Why don’t you leave, then?”

“Because I’m the only one who’s able to tame you down”, you bite back.

He huffs in sheer annoyance while pushing himself off the wall. Why does he have to look so vulnerable and strong at the same time, so scary but also mesmerizing?

“You won’t force me to talk to him”, he finally speaks out.

“I want him to leave the corps and get as far away from me as possible.”

“Away from you or away from the danger?”

“I don’t care about him.”

“So you don’t care about me as well?”

Thick silence hangs between both of you while you stare at each other. To this day he never revealed how he truly feels about you. Does he hate you, respect you, love you? You might never know. But your influence on him speaks for itself.

“Go to sleep. We’ll get up early tomorrow.”

Without another word, he leaves you standing in a new wave of ponderings and emotions.

-a few hours later-

Your eyes dart open for no reason. Aimlessly, your orbs roam around the dark room, ears searching for a single sound.

Voices. Shouting. Blows.

Blows?

“Big brother?”

Your heart drops to the floor. That’s Genya. Why does the floor start to vibrate now?

Out of instinct, you yank out of your room, follow a wave of destruction until you finally get what’s going on.

There they stand. Genya with fright written all over his face and Sanemi with orbs so empty you’re almost able to see through them.

Your guts turn uncomfortably as he speeds forward so fast that your eyes are almost unable to follow. Fuck, is he about to pierce through Genya’s eyes?

You waste no time. In the matter of milliseconds, you drag Genya to the ground and therefore safe him from Sanemi’s merciless attack.

“Sanemi.”

You breathe out his name like a prayer.

“Get out of line, (y/n).”

“I can’t allow you to hurt him!”, you cry out, hands still holding onto Genya’s trembling body for dear life.

“You leave me no choice, then.”

It happens faster than you’re able to think. He dashes forward while grabbing the handle of his sword tightly, his eyes and blade darted towards you.

But you don’t even think about leaving Genya. No, you stand your ground in front of him, glossy orbs watching as his blade crashes down straight towards your face.

Until it stops.

“I said move”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“And I said I won’t. Leave Genya alone.”

“Are you really putting up a fight with me, (y/n)? Here, right in front of everyone else?”

You couldn’t care less about the stinging fact that the others are watching you drowned in fear. This goes too far without any doubt.

“You don’t have to do this, Sanemi. Not when we both know you love your little brother dearly”, you breathe out.

“Come on Genya, let’s leave”, Tanjiro’s voice mutters behind you, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

“I don’t love anyone. Not him, not you, I don’t give a shit about anyone around here”, Sanemi barks back at you with nothing but hatred spilling from his mouth.

Genya doesn’t deserve those words reaching his ear. But apart from that, you can’t escape the sting that fills your heart with agony.

Him, not loving anyone? Of course you never really expected the wind hashira to actually like you back. Of course even him respecting you is more than you could have ever asked for. But somehow you still hoped. Each and every night, you imagined what if would feel like to lay in his arms while listening to his steady heartbeat. Every free second, you pondered about how his lips must feel pressed against yours, how it feels to fall asleep and wake up next to him.

And now he tells you that you mean nothing to him.

You swallow hard, desperately trying to avoid his gaze at any cause. No, you can’t afford to lose yourself right here when everyone is watching.

Out of instinct, you straighten your shoulders and cross your arms in front of your chest.

“If that’s the case, I’m leaving. Good night, wind hashira.”

You don’t care about waiting for an answer. All you want to do right now is going back into your room, going back into safety where he’s not around. How stupid to even consider that Sanemi Shinazugawa could feel anything apart from a little respect for you. You, nothing but an ordinary slayer, still too weak to be called a real hashira. You, apparently nothing but a fool.

Hot tears start to swell up your eyes and cause your vision to get foggy. You never allowed yourself to cry over something so minor. What did you expect, a gut-wrenching love story? With the wind hashira?

“Why did you turn your back on me?”

You flinch so hard that you almost trip over your futon.

“What are you doing here?”, you cry out.

Fuck, this is him, without any doubt. What on earth is Sanemi doing in your room? Just now, when you’re looking like a mess.

“Are you crying?”

“Even if I do, why would you care?”

When your gaze drifts towards his, you feel like drowning and taking your first breath at the same time. He looks so distressed that your heart wrenches all over again. Like a lost puppy, he draws closer until he cages you against the wall. His eyes seem to stare right through your soul, make it hard to produce a single logical thought.

“Why would you even think that, idiot?”

His hand yanks your chin up, forces you to stare at him even more intensely.

“Because you said so yourself”, you bite back.

“You shouldn’t have interrupted me in the middle of teaching Genya a lesson.”

“Teaching him a lesson? You’re breaking that poor boy’s heart-“

“Breaking him? I’m saving him, goddamn!”, he blurts out so suddenly that you shake.

“Saving him? What are you t-“

“Poking his eyes out isn’t that big of a deal, he’d definitely survive. But his career at the demon slayer corps would have been over and out, he would have been saved”, he mumbles frantically.

“That would have meant he’s save, that would have meant he doesn’t die in this shit-“

“Sanemi”, your hands grab his face gently, try to get him out of his constant mumbling.

“He’ll die just like our mother did.”

“Sanemi.”

“I can’t fucking protect you all. Not when you’re around as well, not when you’re not listening just like he does-“

“Sanemi.”

When your eyes meet his, he looks like a troubled child scared of thunder. His glossy orbs stare at you desperately, make your heart ache all over again. All that rambling, giving Genya his coldest shoulder…to protect him?

“You’re just as reckless as him. Not looking out for yourself. What am I supposed to do without both of you around? What if I lose you two as well?”

“You won’t lose anyone, I’m good enough to-“

“How can you know?”, he screams into your face, his voice vibrating through every cell of your body like thunder.

“How can you promise you won’t die? One wrong move and you’re gonna bite the dust. Or you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time like Rengoku-“

It might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life, so reckless that you’ll lose Sanemi completely.

But you don’t care.

Before he’s able to talk about the grief within the past any further, you crash your lips against his while holding onto his face for dear life.

Over and over, again and again until your mind finally shuts up, until it’s only you and Sanemi and his puffy lips against yours.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you allow your knees to give in, bodies resting against each other so desperately that you feel like dreaming. Countless nights you pondered about the way his frame feels pressed against yours, what the wind hashira might taste like.

Oh, the reality is so much better, so good that you have to convince yourself you’re not dreaming.

“You’re driving me insane. Since the first time I saw you training with Obanai, since you beamed at me with that sickening gorgeous smile. I can’t escape you. I can’t fucking lose you”, he hisses against your mouth before entangling his tongue with yours all over again.

Sparks fly, stars take up your sight completely as you threaten to choke on all the affection and love that hits you with full force.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, you breathe out.

“And risking you’ll never talk to me again? You have to be out of your mind.”

“I’m out of my mind because of you. Because you make me feel all those strange things”, you puff out.

Faster than you’re able to react, he pulls his face away from yours enough to almost drown inside your glossy orbs. For a moment, all the does is staring at you as you desperately gasp for air with your chest rising and falling rapidly. This really happened. Did you really make out with the wind hashira after he tried to murder his little brother, after all the fighting and rambling of today?

“You’re my weakness, (y/n)”, he finally blurts out.

“And I hate that power you have over me. Especially that everyone else knows it.”

You tilt your head to the side. Oh, that’s so true. After all, this is the reason why you were sent here. You are here to make sure he doesn’t go too rough on his students, that his hot temper is kept at least a little cool.

Well, given the heat that radiates from him at this very moment, the last part definitely didn’t go as planned.

“They know about my feeling for you as well.”

His eyes widen while he stares you up and down in sheer disbelief.

“Stop fucking with me”, he grumbles.

“You were too blind to realize that I loved you for so long while I didn’t even think about the opportunity that you might like me back”, you admit with your cheeks turning as hot as the sun.

“You fool.”

He yanks your chin towards his face, a small smile decorating his usual so irritated face.

“I’ll definitely never let you go again now.”

His lips crash into yours and leave your mind blank all over again.

“But I’ll still kick your ass for talking to me so disrespectfully and interfering with Genya.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine (thank you sooo much for helping me creating reader for the cover)

[stylesispunk]

'Merry christmas, please call me' day 1/3

no outbreak! Joel Miller x f! reader

summary: one year after your breakup, joel is pleading to his phone for a call from you. 🌲

w.c: 6k>

warnings: age gap (joel is fifteen years older than reader) angst as usual and fluff with a happy ending like in the Christmas movies.

a/n: welcome to the first day of my joel's fic christmas version event. I want to remind you that i'm from south america and my christmas has always been hot because of summer, so i'm feeding my dreams. I hope you like this one and see you again on the second day of my mini event! Happy reading 💌

The smell of burn cookies made Joel nauseous. The lights of the Christmas tree in the corner of these four walls seemed to gave him a migraine.

A night like this where everyone was celebrating around a table full of food and loved ones. He was lonely with his thoughts drifting away to you. You were on his mind, day and night for the last 365 days that he had been without you.

It was his fault.

He recalled, this exact same night a year ago when he broke up with you out of the blue, due to poor excuses nor even him believed.

Your age gap, that you were childish, that you deserved someone better, he’d said. Someone whole. A ridiculous justification that even he couldn’t stomach now. At the time, he’d convinced himself it was for the best. He had no right to drag you into his mess of doubts and guilt, into his constant battle with the ghosts of his past. But it didn’t stop the ache from settling in his bones, lingering there like a wound that refused to heal.

His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts. It had been a year since you left, a year since the fight that had left him standing alone in the doorway, watching you walk out with tears in your eyes and a suitcase in your hand. He hadn’t dared delete your number, which now stared back at him, mocking him in the silence. How many times had he replayed that night in his head, hoping he’d wake up and find that it was nothing more than a cruel nightmare?

Call her, the voice in his head whispered.

But what could he say? What words could possibly undo the damage he’d caused?

A sigh escaped him as his head dropped back against the old couch, the springs groaning in protest. The soft hum of a Christmas song playing from a neighbor’s apartment felt like salt in the wound, each note a reminder of what he’d lost.

You were his person. You’d been his anchor through the storms, the one who never let him drown, even when he tried to push you away. And he had pushed you, hard enough to make you leave for good.

But Joel still hoped. Pathetically, desperately. Every buzz of his phone made his heart lurch, only to drop moments later when it wasn’t you. He hated himself for it, for waiting on a miracle he didn’t deserve.

Finally, with trembling hands, he let his thumb tap against your name. The call button loomed there, so simple and yet so heavy. He stared at it, his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered, voice rough. The silence of the house swallowed his words. “Please call me... God, just call me.”

He closed his eyes, pressing his palms to his face. You were out there somewhere, probably laughing, surrounded by family or friends. Did you even think about him? Did you miss him the way he missed you? The unanswered questions gnawed at him, the kind of pain he’d learned to carry in his bones over the last twelve months.

When he finally looked at the phone again, he couldn’t stop himself. He typed out a message, the words simple but raw:

Merry Christmas. Please call me.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, the soft whoosh of the message sending feeling louder than it should have. Now, all he could do was wait.

You won’t reply, he thought bitterly. Why would you?

But just as he began to put the phone down, it buzzed in his hand.

The sound of laughter echoed around the room, your cousin telling some exaggerated story about their vacation as everyone leaned in, caught up in the humor of it all. You tried to smile, to focus on the holiday warmth and cheer, but it all felt distant, like you were watching it from behind a thick pane of glass.

For the last four Christmas you had had someone by your side, holding your hand and making you feel a whole in the room.

Now he wasn’t here.

Now it had been a year since he pushed you away from his life.

You excused yourself for a moment, slipping out to the porch where the cold December air stung your skin. It was quieter out here, the twinkle of Christmas lights from neighboring houses reflecting off the snow. You wrapped your arms around yourself, breathing out slowly, your breath a cloud in the chill.

And then you felt it. The buzz of your phone in your pocket.

Sliding it out, your heart stopped when you saw the name.

 Joel.

The message was simple, just four words Merry Christmas. Please call me.

You stared at the screen, your mind racing. You hadn't heard from him in months. The last time had been his birthday three months ago, a tentative text you’d sent just to say you hoped he was doing well. He’d thanked you, but the conversation died before it could have started. You thought that was the end of it, that Joel had moved on, just like everyone told you he would.

But now... this.

You sank onto the porch steps, your fingers tightening around the phone. The memories came flooding back: The past Christmas, when he’d held you in his arms by the fire, murmuring promises you’d believed in so completely. And the fight that tore it all apart, the anger in his voice masking the vulnerability he was so terrified to show.

You swiped at your screen, opening the message again.

Call him, a voice in your head urged. Just call him.

But another voice whispered fearfully

 What if he’s just lonely?

For a moment, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts. Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the button. The phone rang once, twice, each second stretching into eternity.

“Hello?” His voice was low, rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You closed your eyes, the sound of him unraveling something inside you. “Joel,”

….

You’d spent hours making everything perfect. The table was set with Joel’s favorite dishes, the candles were lit, and soft Christmas music floated through the air. The snow outside created a picturesque view through the windows, and for the first time in days, you were excited. Joel had been distant lately, his long hours at work bleeding into your evenings, but tonight would be different. It had to be.

“Joel, you’re late,” you said softly as he walked through the door, his shoulders slumped, his face tired.

He barely glanced at the table as he shrugged off his jacket. “Got caught up at work.”

“I made dinner.” You gave him a small smile, trying to meet his eyes. “I thought maybe tonight—”

“I’m not hungry,” he cut you off, his voice sharper than it needed to be.

Something in his tone made you flinch. You watched him sink onto the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. The weariness in his face didn’t feel like exhaustion; it felt like resignation.

You walked over to him carefully, sitting on the edge of the coffee table so you could face him. “But it’s christmas eve.”

“I know.” he muttered, but his eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

Your stomach twisted. This wasn’t the man who used to pull you into his lap and kiss your worries away. This was someone locked behind a wall you couldn’t reach. “You’ve been different lately. Talk to me. Please.”

He let out a long breath, his hands running through his hair. “I don’t know what we’re doin’ here.”

The words slammed into you like a physical blow. “What?”

Joel looked up at you finally, his expression hard, guarded. “Us. This. It doesn’t make sense anymore.”

Your heart pounded. “What are you talking about?”

He stood up abruptly, pacing the room like he needed to get away from you, as if your presence burned his skin. “You’re too young for this—”

“Don’t.” Your voice trembled, but you stood too, following him. “Don’t do that. You’ve never cared about the age gap before.”

“You should be with someone who can give you what you want, not some old man who can’t figure his shit out.” He turned, finally meeting your eyes, and his were cold, deliberately so. “Someone who isn’t afraid for what people say.”

The words hit like ice water, sharp and cruel. You took a step back, shaking your head. “Joel, that’s not fair. I don’t care about any of that. I love you.”

“Don’t,” he said again, his voice a low growl. “You’re just sayin’ that because you don’t know any better.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the truth.” He swallowed hard, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I can’t be what you need. And you deserve better than what I can give.”

It wasn’t the words themselves that hurt the most, it was the way he said them, like he’d already decided this for you, like he’d been carrying it around for weeks, months, without telling you.

“Don’t you dare decide what I deserve,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Joel looked at you then, really looked at you, and for just a moment, you saw it: the regret, the pain, the fear he was trying so desperately to hide. But then he turned his back to you, his shoulders rigid.

“Go,” he said quietly.

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“I said you should go.”

The room went deathly silent except for the sound of your soft, choked breaths. Joel didn’t move, didn’t turn around as you stared at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, to take it back. But he didn’t.

“We had been together for five years, Joel” you sobbed “Are you throwing away?”

Joel's jaw tightened, his back still turned to you as if he couldn't bear to face what he was doing, what he had already done. His hands gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles white as if he were holding himself together by sheer force. The dim light from the Christmas tree glowed faintly in the reflection of the window, mocking the warmth and love that should've filled this night.

“I’m tired.”

You couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t keep the crack out of your voice as you pleaded. “Tired of what? Of me?”

He flinched at the sound of your voice breaking, his shoulders drawing tight. “It ain’t just that,” he muttered, the words coming out strained. “It’s everythin’, me, us—” He finally turned to face you, his eyes dark and distant, as though he’d already started pulling himself away long before tonight. “You deserve better.”

“Don’t do that,” you snapped through the sobs, pointing at him, your whole-body trembling. “Don’t you dare try to make this about me, Joel. This is about you. You’re the one running away, you’re the one who—” You swallowed hard, the pain rising in your throat like a wave. “Who’s giving up.”

Joel's face crumpled for just a second, but he smoothed it out quickly, replacing it with that familiar mask of stubbornness. “I am tired,” he admitted, his voice low, hoarse. “Of fightin’ every damn day with the parts of myself you don’t see. I can’t—I can’t drag you into that. Not anymore.”

You shook your head, your tears falling faster now. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose you, Joel. I chose you! Over and over for five years. So don’t you dare tell me I can’t handle it, or you.”

His gaze flickered toward the floor, like he couldn’t stand to look at you. “It ain’t enough.”

Those words cut deeper than anything else he’d said. “What’s not enough?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you stepped closer. “Me? Or us?”

Joel looked back at you then, and for a moment, you thought you saw his resolve crack. You thought he might say he was sorry, that he’d been lying, that he still loved you the way you loved him.

But all he said was, “You need to go.”

Your heart shattered.

“No,” you choked out, shaking your head violently, refusing to believe this was happening. “I’m not leaving. I’m not walking away from you.”

Joel’s face hardened, though his eyes betrayed the storm inside him. He took a step back, deliberately creating distance between you both. “I already did, darlin’.”

A sob escaped you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your chest ached; your lungs empty despite the cold air filling the room. It felt surreal, like you were living a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“Fine,” you whispered, your voice ragged. You wiped angrily at your tears, glaring at him through the blur. “If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

“I hope you know what you’re losing.”

Joel didn’t respond. He didn’t move. And when you finally stepped out into the cold December night, suitcase in hand, the sound of the door closing behind you felt like the final nail in the coffin of everything you had built together.

It wasn’t until you were gone—until the silence swallowed the room whole—that Joel let his mask fall. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the couch, his head in his hands as tears slipped through his fingers.

Because he knew.

He knew exactly what he was losing.

And he left you walk away with nowhere to go.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “I—I wasn’t sure if you’d...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish.

There was a pause, and then you spoke. “I wasn’t sure either.”

His heart clenched. He wanted to say a hundred things, to tell you how much he missed you, how every day without you had been a slow, aching torture. But all he managed was: “Thanks for calling.”

“I wasn’t sure I should,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. “Joel, why?

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because it’s Christmas. And because...” He ran a hand over his face, forcing the words out. “Because I’ve been a damn fool. I didn’t fight for us when I should’ve. And not a day’s gone by where I don’t regret it.”

The silence on the other end felt unbearable. “I know I don’t deserve this,” he added quickly. “But I just needed to hear your voice. Even if it’s just this once.”

His words cut through the cold night air, stirring something deep inside you. Joel had never been good at talking about his feelings, and hearing him now, his voice raw and unsteady, you realized just how much this call meant to him.

“You hurt me, Joel,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “I gave you everything, and you... you pushed me away.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick. “I know I did. I was scared, alright? Scared of messing up, of losing you... and I ended up doin’ just that.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes stinging. “And now? What’s changed?”

“I have,” he said without hesitation. “I’ve had a year to think about every mistake I made, every time I let my pride get in the way. I’m not sayin’ I’ve got it all figured out, but... I know I can’t go another year without you, darlin’.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

“Joel,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Just tell me if there’s a chance,” he said, his voice breaking. “Even the smallest one. I’ll do whatever it takes, I swear it.”

“Are you alone?” you asked, feeling your voice trembling.

Joel froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. He exhaled softly, his breath shaky. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “It’s just me and some burnt cookies.”

Your heart ached at his words, but a small, broken laugh escaped you at his words. Burnt cookies. Joel had never been much of a baker. That was your thing. And yet, every Christmas, he’d insist on helping or more accurately, on getting in the way, while you made batch after batch of cookies.

“You burned them?” you asked softly, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips through the tears.

“‘Course I did,” Joel grumbled, though there was no bite to it. “Turns out, I’m no better at bakin’ now than I was then.” He hesitated before adding, almost shyly, “Guess it’s not as fun when you’re not here to yell at me for sneakin’ the dough.”

“Joel, I swear to God, if you eat one more spoonful of that dough—”

He grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, before scooping up another bite and popping it into his mouth. “What? I’m just makin’ sure it’s good, darlin’. Quality control.”

It was like that every single time, you’d roll your eyes, only for him to pull you into his arms and press a kiss to your lips, soft and lingering, tasting of sugar and butter.

You’d tried to scold him, but he always made you laugh instead, his hands sneaking around your waist to pull you close. The cookies always took twice as long as they should’ve, and more flour ended up on the two of you than in the dough. But those moments had been yours—sweet, simple, and full of a kind of love you didn’t realize you’d taken for granted until it was gone.

“Do you remember?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Joel’s breath hitched on the other end of the line. “Every second of it,” he admitted softly. “I remember how you’d get that little crease in your brow when you were concentratin’, tryin’ to make everything perfect. And how I’d ruin it all just to get you to look at me instead.”

You smiled through your tears, the memories making your chest ache. “You never helped. You just kissed me the whole time.”

“Well,” Joel said, his voice thick but warmer now, “you didn’t seem to mind too much.”

You swallowed hard, pressing your hand to your chest as if it could stop the way your heart ached for him. For all of it. “I didn’t,” you admitted quietly. “I loved that.”

There was a pause, heavy and delicate all at once.

“I miss you,” Joel said finally, his voice low and rough. “I’ve missed us. Not just the cookies, or the traditions... but you, darlin’. I miss seein’ you smile. I miss hearin’ your laugh when I did somethin’ dumb. I miss... kissin’ you in the middle of a mess we made together.”

Your throat tightened, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. How was it that Joel always managed to say the exact words you’d been afraid to admit to yourself?

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you whispered. “It makes it harder.”

“What?” he asked, hopeful somehow.

"To hate you" you said, bluntly.

Joel went quiet on the other end of the line. The soft crackle of the connection was the only sound between you, filling the heavy silence where words struggled to exist. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, as though he was afraid saying it out loud might break you both.

“I don’t want you to hate me, darlin’.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing the heel of your palm against your forehead to stop the tears. “Well, it would’ve been easier if you’d stayed away.”

“I tried,” Joel admitted.

You could picture him sitting there, in the same living room where you’d spent so many nights living together. You imagined the empty house around him, quiet and cold, without the warmth the two of you used to fill it with.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence on the line felt heavier now, like it was holding both your hearts in its grip.

“I thought—” you started, then stopped, the words catching in your throat. I thought you’d moved on, you wanted to say. But you couldn’t. You weren’t ready to admit that fear aloud, not yet.

Joel seemed to understand anyway. “There’s no one else,” he said softly. “There never could be. I—I didn’t want to make you think I was waitin’, like I was hopin’ for somethin’ I didn’t deserve. But I couldn’t... I couldn’t bring myself to move on. You’re it for me.”

Your breath hitched, tears welling up as his words sank in. You’re it for me. Joel Miller, stubborn and guarded as he’d always been, was laying himself bare in a way he never had before.

“Why now, Joel?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Why tonight?”

He let out a heavy breath. “Because i'm in love with you” he said, leaving no room for doubting “And because I couldn’t let another month pass without tellin’ you what’s in my heart. Even if it’s too late... I needed you to know.”

The line went quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt heavy with regret. It felt different—like a small flicker of something you weren’t ready to name just yet.

“Get some sleep, Joel,” you murmured softly, surprising even yourself.

He chuckled lightly, a sound you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. “Alright, baby. I will. You too.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight,” Joel replied, his voice soft and warm.

You hung up the phone and let it rest against your chest as you lay back on the couch, tears still wet on your cheeks.

You stood up to go back inside the house and the room felt still, like the world had paused just for you to breathe, to take in everything that had happened. The faint glow of the Christmas lights cast soft, colorful patterns on the walls. It felt bittersweet, like the warmth of a memory that wouldn’t quite let go.

Your chest ached with the weight of it all. Joel’s voice still lingered in your mind, the way he’d said baby, soft, familiar, like it belonged to you and no one else. It had been so long since you’d heard it, and it stirred something in you you’d tried to bury. Something tender and raw, something that reminded you of stolen kisses in the kitchen, of his arms wrapped around you on cold nights, of the way he used to make you feel like home wasn’t a place but a person.

You wiped at your cheeks, sniffling quietly. “Damn you, Joel Miller,” you whispered to the empty room, but your voice lacked conviction. The truth was, you didn’t know how to feel. Angry? Relieved? Hopeful?

“Are you okay?” your mother’s voice broke through the stillness, soft but laced with concern.

You startled slightly, turning toward the sound. She stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim glow of the hall light, her face etched with the quiet worry only a mother could carry.

You tried to smile, to brush it off like you always did, but the tears still wet on your cheeks betrayed you. “Yeah,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from the emotion threatening to spill over. “I’m fine.”

She tilted her head, unconvinced, and took a slow step closer. “Sweetheart...”

The way she said it made your composure wobble. You looked away, blinking rapidly as if that would erase the evidence of the storm swirling inside you. “It’s nothing, Mom. Just... Christmas stuff.”

She didn’t say anything right away, just moved to sit beside you on the couch. Her warmth and presence were enough to break something loose inside you, and for a moment, you just sat there in silence.

After a long, heavy pause, you finally spoke, your voice trembling. “I have to go.”

Your mother turned to you, her brows knitting together in quiet confusion. “Go? Where?”

You swallowed hard, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I... I don’t know…home?”

Her expression softened, and she gave a small, knowing nod. “To Joel?”

You glanced at her, startled that she understood so quickly, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. Mothers always knew. “I just-” You broke off, your voice faltering.

She studied you for a long moment, then reached out to gently clasp your hand. “Then go,” she said quietly, squeezing it in encouragement. “But go for the right reasons, sweetheart. Not because it’s Christmas, or because you feel like you owe him something. Go if you think it’s what your heart needs.”

You blinked at her, your throat tight. “What if I regret it?”

She smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And what if you don’t?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, one that settled deep in your chest.

You exhaled shakily, then stood, your movements unsteady but resolute. “I’ll be back soon,” you said, though you weren’t sure if it was more for her benefit or your own.

She gave you a gentle smile and stayed seated, as if she knew this was something you had to do on your own. “Take a coat,” she reminded you softly.

You nodded, grabbing your coat and scarf off the rack by the door. The cold air outside hit you immediately as you stepped out, but it didn’t slow your steps as you headed to your car. Your heart pounded, nerves swirling in your stomach as you turned the ignition and pulled out onto the quiet, dark road.

Joel sat slouched on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the Christmas tree he’d half-heartedly decorated earlier that day. The glow of the lights cast soft, uneven patterns on the floor, but he wasn’t really seeing them. His mind was stuck somewhere else—on the sound of your voice, on the quiet goodnight that hung heavier than he could have imagined.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tired in a way that sleep wouldn’t fix. It was the kind of weariness that came from missing someone so deeply it felt like it hollowed you out.

A sudden knock at the door startled him. He frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, grumbling under his breath as he trudged toward the door. “Tommy, I swear I’m fi—”

He pulled the door open mid-sentence, the complaint dying on his lips when he saw who it was.

You.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there on his doorstep, wrapped in your coat and scarf, your cheeks pink from the cold, your breath visible in the freezing air. Your wide eyes met his, filled with something he couldn’t name—surprise, maybe, or uncertainty.

Joel froze, his hand still on the doorknob, his heart thudding hard against his chest. He blinked, like he was trying to make sure you were real. “Baby?”

“Hi,” you said softly, the single word carrying so much weight it nearly knocked the air out of him.

Joel let out a shaky breath, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “What... what’re you doin’ here?”

You shifted the bag in your hands, your fingers clutching the handles tightly, like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I, uh... I brought some things to bake cookies,” you said quietly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the emotions you were trying to hold back.

Joel just stared at you, completely still, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. The words sank in slowly, and something in his chest tightened—hard and sudden—until he felt like he might break right there on the spot.

“You... you brought stuff to bake cookies?” he repeated, his voice so low it was barely a whisper.

You nodded, a small, almost shy smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I figured... if it’s just you and some burnt cookies this year, maybe you could use a little help.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a shaky breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob. He turned his face slightly, as if trying to gather himself, but there was no hiding the way his eyes shone in the soft light spilling from the doorway.

For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, he just looked at you, like you were something fragile and precious, something he couldn’t believe was right in front of him. Finally, he cleared his throat and stepped back, his voice rough as he spoke. “C’mon in, baby. It’s too damn cold out there.”

You stepped inside, the warmth of home enveloping you, after being away for a year, this house still carried the faint scent of pine, Joel and something a little burnt, probably the remnants of his earlier baking disaster. Joel shut the door behind you, lingering for a moment before turning to face you again.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, his voice uneven, like he was fighting to hold something back.

“I know,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

Joel swallowed hard, the weight of your words sinking into him like a balm to every ache he’d carried for far too long. “You always know how to fix my messes,” he said, his lips curling into a small, almost wistful smile.

You gave him a look, a teasing edge to your voice despite the tension still lingering between you. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t burn down the kitchen.”

Joel let out a quiet laugh, gruff and hoarse, but real. It sounded like the kind of laugh that had been buried for too long, and the sound of it made your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Yeah,” he said softly, watching you with that same unreadable expression. “Guess someone does.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with unspoken words and years of memories. Then Joel sniffed, scrubbing a hand down his face as if to steady himself. “You still use that same recipe?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, your voice light but steady. “You’re gonna help me this time, though. And I mean actually help.”

Joel watched you for another long moment before he turned toward the kitchen, clearing his throat again. “Alright, then,” he said, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t quite hide. “Let’s make some cookies.”

The kitchen was filled with the warm, sweet smell of freshly baked cookies. A few floury handprints stained the counter, mixing bowls were stacked haphazardly in the sink, and a couple of slightly misshapen cookies sat cooling on the tray. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but it felt like you. Like him. Like the pieces of something familiar were falling back into place.

You set the final cookie down on the tray, brushing a bit of flour from your cheek with the back of your hand. “Well,” you said, stepping back to admire the messy success, “I think we did it.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. When you turned to look at him, you found him leaning against the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. There was something soft in the way he looked at you, something so Joel,it made your breath hitch.

“What?” you asked, self-conscious under his gaze.

He shook his head slowly, that smile growing just a little. “Nothin’,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Just…you look even more beautiful than I remember.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping away all the uncertainty you’d been holding onto. Your heart skipped in your chest, and your breath caught in your throat, leaving you momentarily speechless. You hadn't expected that—hadn’t expected him to say that, especially after all this time.

You glanced away for a moment, suddenly unsure of yourself. The kitchen suddenly felt warmer, the space between you two too close, and yet it felt like everything was finally falling into place, as if you’d both been waiting for this moment without knowing it.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. You met his gaze again, and this time, there was something different there—a vulnerability, a longing that mirrored your own.

He stepped forward, slowly, as if giving you the space to decide what came next. But you didn’t pull away. You stood there, rooted in the moment, caught somewhere between the past and the present, unsure of what the future held but certain that, for once, you wanted to face it with him.

“I mean it,” Joel added, his voice soft but unwavering. “You always did have a way of lightin’ up a room, darlin’. But right now… you’re more than I remember.”

A lump formed in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t hold back the emotion that swelled within you. It was like he had reached right into the depths of what you’d been afraid to feel and pulled it all to the surface. You reached out instinctively, your hand brushing his arm, the warmth of his skin making everything feel so real again.

“Joel, I—” Your voice broke, and you paused, unsure of the words.

Joel didn't let you finish your sentence. Before you could gather your thoughts, before the words could fall into place, he closed the gap between you. His hand found your cheek, his thumb grazing the soft skin there, as if he needed to feel you, to make sure this wasn’t just a dream. His lips met yours, soft at first, hesitant, as though he was giving you the chance to pull away, but you didn’t.

You kissed him back, your hands coming up to tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer as the familiar taste of him flooded your senses. It was like stepping into a memory, one you’d been holding on to without even realizing it. All the years, the distance, the pain—all of it seemed to melt away in the warmth of his embrace.

The kiss deepened, slow and tender, and you let yourself lose in it, in him, in the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was how things were meant to be all along. There were no questions, no doubts, only the comforting certainty of him being right there, of the connection you had never truly lost.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, you gazing the floor instead of his eyes.

His hands were still on your face, his fingers brushing over your skin like he was memorizing every part of you again.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Joel murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes searched yours, vulnerable and open in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Are you going to push me away again?” you asked, meeting his eyes with some fear dancing on them.

Joel’s expression faltered for a moment, his gaze flickering with a mix of fear and hope. He searched your face, as if trying to understand what you were really asking, what you really meant.

“No. I will never do that again.” he answered, “I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared of not bein’ enough for you. Scared of how people talked about us. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you deserved better.”

“I never thought that,” you said softly, finally meeting his gaze.

Joel swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. “I was a damn fool for pushin’ you away. And if I could go back and fix it, I would. But I know I can’t. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking. “I just needed you to know how sorry I am.”

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if we can go back to what we had. But…maybe we can start somewhere new.”

Joel’s breath caught, hope blooming in his chest. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”

The silence that followed felt different than before. It wasn’t filled with regret or confusion, but with a shared understanding—a quiet acknowledgment of what had been lost and what was still possible. You stayed close, your hands gently resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Joel finally let out a shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, like he was memorizing the feel of you again. "I’m not askin' for all of it back. Just... a chance. To show you that I can be the man you deserve. The man I should’ve been all along."

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy but hopeful. “I’m not sure what this looks like, Joel. But we can figure it out, right? Together?”

A soft, sincere smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Joel pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your face as he looked at you with love and something more vulnerable, but what was more vulnerable than love? He took a slow breath, and then his gaze shifted toward the window, the quiet fall of snowflakes beginning to collect on the sill outside.

His voice was soft, almost reverent. "Look at that," he murmured, his eyes tracing the peaceful scene outside. "First snow of the year."

You turned to look out the window, your heart fluttering as you watched the snow gently blanket the world in white, the quiet stillness of the moment wrapping around you both like a cozy blanket. It felt surreal, almost like something out of a dream, a dream you didn’t want to wake from.

Being this close to the man you loved felt like a dream.

Joel stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close again. His chin rested on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, his voice full of raw tenderness, the words wrapped in the kind of love that had been buried for too long but never truly gone.

Before you could respond, he turned you gently, his hands sliding down your arms to hold your waist as he kissed you again, soft and slow, like this moment was meant for both of you, like it was always meant to be this way. The world outside faded, leaving only the quiet hum of your heartbeat and the warmth of his touch, the promise of something new blooming between you two.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like home again.

[adore-laur]

hiii lovely i don’t know if you take requests but if you do please can we have an angsty piece for dadrry, like i know we had the christmas fight but like maybe h says something super mean to yn during an argument or he’s been super busy with work and he ends up being neglectful and stuff, and like i wanna see the groveling!!! it’s just a request if you don’t do angst i get it, but i would really love to see it !! no pressure tho xx

NEED YOU NOW

this is a flashback from the dadrry universe! enjoy, and please reblog / comment 🌝

——

It was 7:55 p.m., nearly three hours past the time Harry had promised to be home. His plate of food sat cold on the countertop. It had been his to make, but when you heard that he was staying late at the restaurant, you threw a quick meal together that was subpar by everyone's standards.

Truthfully, you were livid. Harry's paid paternity leave expired a week ago, and he was already breaking promises. I will always be home for dinner, he had vowed when you began to dread the day he put his chef coat back on and left you to parent alone. Remarkably, he had upheld it thus far. You just didn't think he'd let it collapse so soon.

You stewed over it in bed while trying—and failing—to put your four-month-old daughter down to sleep. It was the first time you had to do it by yourself, and to say it was shaping up to be a colossal catastrophe was an understatement. You didn't possess Harry's deep, soothing voice that was practically a lullaby of its own, nor did you possess his natural, rhythmic hip sway while rocking her to sleep. So, yes, there was a tiny kernel of resentment building pressure inside of you because of your shortcomings as a parent, and it would explode any second now. Because missing dinner was one thing, but missing the baby's bedtime? Outrageous.

Fussy cries rattled around the room as her body squirmed in the bedside bassinet. The probability of you joining in on her meltdown was soaring higher as the sky darkened. Nothing you were doing was successful in calming her conniption—not nursing, ocean air, white noise, or even her trusty pacifier could settle those high-pitched wails that simultaneously broke your heart and frazzled your nervous system beyond its regular state. You were determined to remedy the situation as a perfectly capable individual, but in your heart of hearts, you knew that sometimes you weren't the needed parent. Tonight, Harry was the desired nurturer. And he wasn't here.

With clammy palms, you surrendered your pride and unlocked your phone to call Harry. The last text he had sent was at 4:37. It read: Won't be home until late tonight. Don't know what time. I'm sorry. Out of frustration, you had left him with no response.

The ringing tone droned, and you held no hope that he'd answer. Realistically, there was no open opportunity to take a phone call in a fast-paced restaurant kitchen. The cogs needed to be moving at all times—otherwise, the wheel would splinter. You had accepted it years ago.

When you first started dating Harry, it was strenuous finding time for each other. On a lucky day, you'd talk to him during his lunch break. Weekends had bestowed the moments that made the relationship flourish. It should have gotten more manageable after all these years, but as a new mother, it wasn't something you could handle like a champ anymore.

Therein lay the problem: You had become too comfortable with having Harry home for twelve weeks. Calibrating to the changes that parenthood presented was much easier with a dedicated husband ready to face them with you. It had been a luxury to be a team from sunrise to sunset and every nocturnal hour that you both had spent devoid of energy. Your steadfast lover.

"Hello?"

You jolted, surprised to hear Harry's voice. It caused relief and rage to clash within you—not a pleasurable combination. "How much longer are you working?"

His sigh was smothered by scattered voices speaking in the background and kitchenware clanging noisily. "I don't know. We're finishing the dinner rush, and there's still loads of cleaning to do. Trust me, I've been trying to make an exit for the past two hours, but the orders keep coming."

"I need you here, Harry," you said shakily. "I can't do this by myself."

"Do what by yourself? What's goin' on?"

Rage won the internal battle and staked its claim over your sensibility. "Seriously? I have a baby that won't stop crying, a husband that has been missing in action for the past three hours, and I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown."

"You never texted me back," Harry said, sounding like his focus was split half on the conversation and half on whatever task he was doing. "Have you tried walking her around outside? Maybe some fresh air will help."

You stood and started pacing around the room. "I tried that. I need your help. She wants nothing to do with me."

"Honey, I... I can't right now. I have to be here."

"Please," you begged, panic crawling up your throat. Could he even hear the baby crying on your end? How could he possibly understand your crisis through a muddled phone call? "I'm telling you I need you now."

"And I'm telling you I have a kitchen to run," he replied firmly. His tone softened when he added, "If I could leave right now, I would. It's just not viable when it's been this busy."

You stayed silent, chewing on his weak explanation. All your pent-up exasperation was simmering and had nowhere to go, so you infused your next words with it. "You're being neglectful."

"What?" Harry said. You could picture him with that cute little divot between his eyebrows, except the reasoning behind it wasn't so cute this time. "Wait, hold on, hold on. Say that again? Shit, I can't focus." A loud clattering of metal punctuated his rambling.

There was no fight left in you. Numbly, you walked over to the bay window and watched the ocean tide swell under the full moon. "Never mind. Go finish what's clearly more important."

"Listen, it's hard to hear you in here. Can I call you back in... um, I don't know, fifteen minutes?" He didn't seem angry and didn't sense the urgency you were conveying. He just seemed distracted, and it felt like a bruising kick while you were already down.

"Bye, Harry." You hung up, not regretting your stubbornness. His communication during the day had been meager. He should have known to keep you in the loop after three hours of waiting for him to come home. You had hung on by a thread and wondered if this would become the norm. You thought he was done with his old tendencies of being a yes-man.

What mattered to you the most was that Harry knew when to put family first, and tonight, you and your daughter were put on the back burner.

With two tears slipping down your cheeks, you succumbed to the feeling of utter helplessness.

——

Harry unlocked the front door, trying to recall the last time he had come home at nine-thirty at night. Surely months ago, when you were heavily pregnant and couldn't sleep. He had taken you for slow drives around the neighborhood and played with your hair in hopes of lulling you into a deep slumber. Worked like a charm.

God, he knew you were pissed at him. He was in the doghouse for good reason. Usually, you'd greet him at the door, happy to see him. Now, the quiet bounced off the walls uncannily.

He had been barely able to concentrate on anything while in the thick of dinner service. Too many stressors flew around the kitchen like bullets. It had been the absolute worst moment to respond to your panicked phone call. Why had he said yes to staying late? The agreement was to work from seven to five, Tuesday through Friday. He failed you today, and it killed him.

Ever since the baby was born, Harry had turned into a homebody. He loved seeing every room hold signs of his baby girl. Milk bottles in the refrigerator; tiny onesies in the washer; storybooks on the nursery's rocking chair; the tummy time mat on the living room carpet; the foldable bathtub in the kitchen sink (he planned to research if adults could use baby shampoo since the smell was irresistible). He'd gotten so attached to the routine that it came as no surprise—his first week back at work had been hell. He'd messed up several times, struggling to get back in the groove. His hands moved slower, his mind on overload as he caught up to the twelve weeks he missed. Everything there felt foreign. It sparked a realization that nothing came as close to feeling natural as being a dad did.

Harry shook his head to clear the tornado whirling around his brain and turned the kitchen light on. He immediately spotted his plate of dinner waiting for him, a depressing reminder of his broken vow.

An awful feeling sank like a stone in his stomach. This was all wrong. It was supposed to go like this: Harry, ravenous and in dire need of affection, would arrive home at five, the sun still shining. He'd kiss you in the foyer as you passed over his daughter. She'd coo happily, the weight of her in his arms a precious comfort. He'd carry her and entertain her with silly voices and other theatrical dad antics before getting started on cooking dinner. Then the night would slowly progress, and as everyone's eyes grew heavy with sleep, he'd wait until you were done nursing before burping a full-bellied baby and setting her in the bassinet.

And who was to blame for blowing that beautiful sequence to smithereens? This guy.

When Harry reached the hallway, he shivered. Was the window open? There was a chilly draft floating around, and when he peeked his head past the bedroom doorway, his assumptions were proven correct. There you were on the cushioned windowsill seat, the glittering moonlight illuminating your sleeping frame as you held his baby girl against your chest. She was asleep as well, with her limbs tucked all cozily in your motherly embrace. Harry just stood and watched for a minute, the day's stress cascading off his shoulders. Home. This was what remained the most paramount part of his life. He needed to apologize before you formed a grudge.

He didn't want to wake you or the baby, especially considering the overwhelming night you had helmed, so he hopped in the shower to contemplate the best way to handle... whatever had occurred over the phone. Harry knew that the postpartum phase was treating you roughly—your anxiety was a tight string ready to snap at any moment. He hadn't fully grasped the reality of you doing the bedtime routine alone. How hard it probably had been with a baby experiencing major sleep regression. He'd thought you using the word neglectful was harsh, but it was fair.

With a cleansed body and mind, Harry exited the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist. The breeze blowing in from the open window was too brisk for his liking, so he walked over and reached past you to close it. It squeaked, and he winced when you stirred awake. He stalled his movements as you came into consciousness, slowly and with weariness.

How motherhood looked on you was a thing of beauty. Even in the most ordinary moments, you were radiant, emanating warmth and solace. You were this family's guiding light.

Eventually, you swung your legs over the edge of the windowsill seat and stared at him blankly. Guilt struck Harry speechless, and all he could do was sink to his knees and press his face into your shin, like Stephan Sinding's Adoration. "Please forgive me, baby," he murmured, kissing the almond-scented skin there. "I'm so sorry. There's no excuse."

When you remained silent, Harry lifted his face and looked at you. The sight of your expression crumpling and tears welling in your eyes shattered his heart. He got up to sit beside you, pulling you and your daughter into a remorseful hug. "I've made you cry. I'm awful, aren't I?"

You sniffled. "No, you're not. I just don't understand."

"Can I try to explain?" he asked.

You nodded and let your head fall limply on his shoulder. Harry was grateful you weren't shunning him. After pressing a soft kiss to your temple, he said, "You needed me tonight, and I fell short as your husband and as her father." He stroked his baby girl's back, his palm nearly covering the entirety of it. "It was an unexpectedly chaotic day at work, and I... I don't know, it's like I forgot how to hold the reins. All my skill retention just vanished. It was bizarre, and I'm sure it has to do with being sleep-deprived, but it shouldn't have pushed me to stay late. I should've put family first, and I'm sorry you felt neglected. That wounds me to hear that." He grabbed your hand and held it against his heart, leaning down to kiss your knuckles tenderly. "So, from now on, I will be home for dinner. I will be here for bedtime. I will be here when you need me, for whatever reason. Because when you hurt, I hurt. And I don't ever want to make you feel like that again. Don't want you to doubt starting a family with me."

You were crying against his neck, and Harry couldn't tell if it was a good or bad sign. Every word he had said was honest. Poured straight from his soul. It was a vow to be better and to learn from his mistakes. The adjustment from a blissful four months experiencing fatherhood at home to transitioning right into a forty-hour workweek had been messy, and it still would be in the weeks to come, so he hoped you understood that he was trying. It would all balance out soon enough. It just took time.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," Harry whispered to you. His daughter was making whiny noises now, so he carefully took her from your arms and cuddled her close. It felt like his vital purpose.

Meanwhile, you inhaled a few deep breaths to collect yourself. Your hand gripped the towel around his waist, and you gasped before saying, "This whole time, I thought you were naked."

He laughed, thankful for the brief levity. "I think you're still dreaming, sleepyhead." A small smile lifted your lips, and he had no choice but to kiss them. He'd been gone for far too long today.

"I forgive you," you said quietly. "I trust that you won't let this become a habit. I think there were heightened emotions from both of us, for valid reasons, and I found it hard to communicate exactly what I needed."

"You needed me," Harry replied, feeling guilt creep its way back into his mind.

"I know, but I can't always expect you to drop everything when you're needed elsewhere. That's not fair."

He nodded. "Still, you're my partner. It's my responsibility to make you feel adored, and since I blundered that today, how about if I take all the night shift duties this weekend?"

Your eyes fluttered shut, relief softening your facial features. "That would make me feel very adored."

"Yeah?" He kissed your forehead. "And since tomorrow's Saturday, I think I'll treat you to breakfast in bed."

You hummed, pleased as punch. "Tell me more."

"We'll sit on the porch swing and drink coffee," he continued, the domestic visualization sending a rush of heat through him. "Watch the sunrise and listen to the mourning doves."

"No, I meant tell me more about treating me to things in bed."

"Oh, my sincerest apologies," Harry said through an amused laugh. "Are we talking about innocent bed activities, or...?"

You were in a reverie, no doubt thinking of not-so-innocent activities. "Remember our wedding night when we tried using that—" A sudden and sharp wail sliced through your sentence, and in Harry's mind, he caught a brief flash of the memory: you, perched seductively on the living room sofa in the newly purchased beach house, more breathtaking than the ocean view in the distance. Harry, unable to believe he had found you and got to treasure your love for life. And yeah... he couldn't possibly forget that ridiculous toy he'd been gifted with at his bachelor party. Moving on.

"Let's all get some sleep so we can act alive tomorrow," Harry said. When he stood to start rocking the baby, the loosened towel dropped to the floor, leaving him stark naked in the moonlight. You giggled, and the sound was like a shot of bliss straight into his veins. He laughed too, drowsiness finally hitting him. It'd be a long night ahead, and although he would likely rack up a measly four hours of sleep, knowing he'd wake up beside you and have only dad-related obligations for the next three days made it sound peachy.

For the first time that day, a sense of calmness washed over him. Home, sweet home.

——