#so sorry if you think things happen too quickly

[graciedollie]

hi hii, all the fanfics I read the reader was very feminine, but I was thinking about how cool it would be to do one where the reader is Ambessa's guard, and is muscular and big (but also very shy), Ambessa feels attracted and wants to see if the reader is good at other things besides fighting.....🙈

do it in your own time! ���️‍🩹

Wandering Lamb

Pair: Ambessa Medarda x MuscularShy!Reader

Summary: You were one of Ambessa’s best soldiers, doing excellent in training and on the battlefield. She was oddly drawn to you, knowing you had much potential. Though, while doing your duties, you happen to stumble upon a sight you’d never forget. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.

Warnings: Face-fucking, age difference (we love to see), fingering, just lex sesbian, praise(we definitely love to see it), Reader is Ambessa’s guard, AMBESSA HAS A BUSH (YES GOD), nothing too drastic or over the top 🎀

A/N: Hopefully this is to your liking babes <3 (i lowkey feel like my fics are going to shit cause of the decreased likes🧍🏾‍♀️)

The night hung high in the sky, casting over the land of Noxus with a thick hue of soft light. You were carefully stalking your way down the halls, panting slightly after a good day of training—well, intense. Training was, as usual, intense and sweat inducing, but you were good in training—hella good. Of course when you first started off, it was rocky as expected, but with time passing—you became one of Ambessa’s best soldiers. Sure her other soldiers did good, but you—you were a beast.

Though you were really skilled and powerful in combat, you were a shy little thing—balancing out your appearance with your personality. Body of a wolf, soul of a lamb. You were sweet and shy, but during battle—you were ruthless. As you spent your years of working your way up as a soldier, you became attracted to the one who pushed you along the way—Ambessa, Noxus fearless warlord. Now, she was absolutely stunning—nearly the beauty of a powerful goddess.

Unfortunately so, you didn’t want to seem out of order or unorthodox to have such feelings towards your higher up, which meant you had to push those feelings deep down and act normal when you were around her. Your mind was wandering with thoughts of her as you stalked your way down the long hallway, patrolling the halls as your usual duty when you weren’t fighting alongside her in battle, which was always a fine honor.

Keeping your eyes closely locked around your environments, it was until then that a noise from her bedroom caught you off guard—eliciting you to swiftly move and enter her room—weapon clutched in your hand.

“General. Are you ok?” Your voice was strained with concern and curiosity, furrowing your brows tightly as your quick feet moved across the marble floors before barging into the large bathroom as you didn’t find her in the bed.

There was no apparent danger, but the sight that was before you—damn near sinful. She laid soaking in the steaming tub, rich brown skin glowing in the dim light, and silver coils crowning her head. Her eyes glanced over with a disapproving gaze before a sly grin tugged at her red lips—nearly making you weak in the knees as her gaze on you was intense.

“And what may be the trouble of you rudely interrupting me, hm?” god that voice. You always loved that voice—whether she was calm and collected or either stern and scolding. It was something you never get tired of, always imagining the way her voice would flow through your ears with her fingers knee deep in yo—unfortunately, those thoughts weren’t to be welcomed.

“Uh—I apologize dearly, General. I…I thought I heard something and figured something was wrong—I’m sorry for interrupting..” Your voice was slightly strained with nerves, practically radiating around your built body, clasping the weapon tightly in your hand as your eyes met with hers before drifting lower, but quickly snapping to her eyes.

But she knew and she wanted you to look.

Ambessa took great pride in her body—the body she put in extensive work to earn. She tilted her head to the side while eyeing you intensely and shamelessly, humming in approval with the way you were built, but was shy as hell. It was honestly endearing to her and she knew that she needed you—and she knew you wanted the same.

“Come.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order—which you gladly followed as you swiftly stalked your way to the large bath, seeing just the way her breast were visibly in the calm waters and how the light scars adorned her beautiful brown skin—god you felt that you were in paradise. Her eyes peered into yours, sensing the nervousness in your eyes as she felt a small smirk tuh at her lips.

“As you know, you are one of my finest guards and best soldier, yes?” She raised a brow at you, expecting your answer quickly, which you quickly responded, “Yes! I am…I put great work and pride in my duties and training—just as you taught me, General.”

A hum of approval was heard from her at your choice of words, clearly liking the impression you were making. Her eyes stayed locked on yours fully before trailing down your body—taking in the way your muscles gleamed with leftover sweat from training.

“And what comes with that is an reward, yes?”

You were honesty ecstatic at her words, fighting the stupid grin that threatened to ghost over your lips. Your mind was racing with so many thing—maybe she’ll do this or that or this or that—with the possibilities being questionable. “Yes…”

“Excellent. I know just the reward for such a loyal, devoted woman you are…”

You just couldn’t wait for what she had in store for you <3

This was not what you were expecting…but you damn sure weren’t complaining.

Your clothes and weapon were completely abandoned to the side of the tub, leaving your body completely exposed to her lustful gaze and wandering eyes—taking in your toned built. You felt extremely shy as you were practically on a stand and her eyes observed your body intensely—catching the litter of scars adorning your skin.

She curled her finger in a ‘come here’ motion, which you quickly pushed through the water to get to her before her hands finally roamed all over your body, “Quite the view..”

“Oh…thank you, u-uh General..” You couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that climbed from its chamber, internally face-palming yourself for doing the stupid gesture, but that was quickly pushed aside as her lips finally found your neck and suckled at the skin. A low moan escaped your mouth as her velvety tongue trailed over the delicate skin, leaving bites and kisses in her trail.

This felt like totally paradise. This is what you’ve wanted for so long. Your eyes fluttered as she slowly leaned you back to have you lay back against edge of the tub, lips never leaving your neck while her large hand ventured under the water and between your toned thighs—sliding her thumb across your slit, earning a soft gasp.

“Ambessa—“

“General.” She quickly corrected you, pulling away from your neck to take in your expressions as her thumb rubbed slow, firm circles over your aching clit—smirking at the sight before her. “You’ve peaked my interest, dear. Such a strong, loyal, and trustworthy woman you are. I respect that…”

Your hips bucked up to her touch, causing little ripples of water to scatter. Her eyes peered into yours before you turned to look away, only to be met with her other hand gripping your chin firmly and forcing the intense eye contact. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Her voice was firm and stern—the voice you loved hearing every time she spoke, god you needed her badly. You nodded quickly in compliance to her words, nodded eyes gazing into her peering ones—gasping as she slowly slipped a single finger in you with ease. Her fingers were thick, of course, but not this much. The way only one single finger felt, you were uncertain about adding another—three, at that matter.

“I-oh my gosh…General..” Your body was practically burning due to the stretch and with the sweet pleasure of her rubbing over your clit—slowly picking up the pace of her motions as she watched you intently.

You looked utterly breathtaking. Eyes were fluttering, struggling to keep eye contact. Mouth parted with gasp and low moans. Toned stomach flexing. Muscular thighs jerking with each pump of her finger and each flex of your sculptured arms as you slightly squirmed. “For a resilient woman, you are the shyest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on—how adorable.”

Your words were quickly spurring you on, moaning and grunting in response to her words—looking at her with a silent plea in your eyes, but that wouldn’t work with her. “Words or do you not want more? I’m sure you deserve an reward, no? It would be a shame if I had to take it away..”

“N-no! I…I need more…please.” Your voice was slightly shaky and strained, huffing slightly as you were worked up—already feeling yourself on the brink of combusting. She couldn’t help the smirk grazing over her lips, taking in the sight of your expressions as she added another finger—making you feel full.

“Oh…shitshitshit, General….please..”Your eyes were fluttering as they threatened to roll back, but you stayed strong as you knew she’d stop if you looked away—having this moment with her was a great honor, yes? Of course it was, with the way your pussy was gripping her fingers, enjoying this was an understatement.

“There we go…feels good to be rewarded, doesn’t it?” She hummed lowly against your lips, feeling your quicken gasps and whines as you quickly nodded, looking at her with hooded eyes, “Yes—y-yes…so good..”

“I know, I know…come for me, love..”

Her words were all the encouragement that you need, along with her thrusting her fingers quickly and steadily—earning a broken moan escaping your mouth as your thighs tensed up and jerked as the orgasm crashed over your body like a wave.

She was definitely going to enjoy a sweet thing such as yourself.

You felt you could die, but in a happy way, of course.

Here you were, face deep in the older woman’s thighs, trailing soft and delicate kisses along the toned, brown skin of her inner thighs as you were on your knees. She had her hand buried in your hair, making sure your eyes stayed locked on to hers—peering down at you with a lustful and appreciative gaze as she felt your warm lips against her thighs. “No need to be so shy, child…”

You could practically feel your body flare up with heat, besides the heat emitting from the warm water that engulfed you both. Your hooded eyes stayed locked up on hers with a desperate and needy gaze, feeling yourself getting more turned on as your hands came to rub her outer thighs and up to her ass—fondling with the soft, but firm muscle, earning an appreciative grunt as she flooded your head with praises.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Just like that, mhm..”

“Such a pretty thing.”

“You’re so gentle. I’m not fragile, love.”

“You’re so good..”

With her words spurring you on, you felt your body buzzing with excitement to finally give her what you both wanted, no—needed. Your eyes peered up at her with a silent plead, earning a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You know what to do…”

She didn’t even have to say anything else before you spreaded her thighs further, lapping away at her folds as the grey patch of hair tickled your noses—not that you minded, of course. The taste of her was utterly savoring and addictive, only wanting to taste more of her sweet nectar as it dribbled down her thighs, your chin and your lips. Your hooded eyes peered up at you and you felt that you might just cum like this.

The way her head was titled back, lips parted with low moans and grunts, breast jerking with her slight movements and the way her hips bucked to your face. You felt her hand tightening up in your high, pulling you closer to her weeping cunt, which you happily lapped away as if you were a starved woman. It felt like such paradise between her thighs, the smell and taste driving you absolutely feral—wanting more of her.

“That’s it…right there..” Her words came out strained and husky, signaling that she was practically on the edge of cumming, but not quite—though your tongue moved expertly through and in her cunt. The grip on her ass tightened as you buried yourself deeper in her thighs, latching into her swollen clit as you sucked messily at the bundle of nerves—feeling her toned thighs start to temblor alongside your head as she tugged your hair.

A mix of a grunt and growl escaped her mouth as her fluttering eyes peered down at your hooded ones, seeing how you were completely drunk for her. Both of her hands grasped your hair tightly, holding you still as she started to grind firmly against the expert tongue and mouth—practically face-fucking you with her pussy, which you felt honor for her to do such. You might just die. Your eyes stayed locked onto hers, seeing the way they struggled to stayed focused on yours before her head finally tipped back—eliciting a groan from her sweet lips.

Your hands roamed up and down her thighs, rubbing over her ass here and there—feeling completely content, even though she was practically suffocating you with the way she squeezed the toned muscles around you. If you died, you’d die happy.

The heavenly grunts and low moans of the older woman bounced off the walls and echoed, causing a beautiful melody that replayed in your head (most likely gonna remember this to fuck yourself to later). It was such a blissful noise and her using like this was just as thrilling—feeling the aching feeling swarm between your thighs. A startled moan was muffled by her cunt as she gave your hair one final pull before she completely came apart.

Her thighs trembled, hips bucked, breast jerking with each heavy breath she took, head tilling back. It was as if you were being gifted by the higher powers—thanking them eternally for this. The grip on her thighs tightened as she completely covered your face with her release—squirting all over your pretty face before you hungrily lapped away at the mess.

She panted heavily as her head slowly looked back down at you, titling her head as she examined your disheveled face—smiling wickedly at the sight. Her hand left your hair to pull you up from your knees, looking at you with a sinful gaze before she licked the essence of her from your chin to your lips—capturing your lips in a heated, hungry kiss, earning a moan from you before she pulled away.

“Such a mess…”

hope you enjoyed dollies <3

[starfruitii]

cws & notes. reader is kind of insecure. akaashi keiji x gn!reader. established relationship. slight angst. 600+ words. idk where this came from but enjoy?

“Do you think you’ll get sick of me, one day?”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips. In your head, it sounded like a perfectly sound question, but with the way Keiji is looking at you, it’s clear he doesn’t agree. 

“I beg your pardon, dear?” His voice is painfully soft, brows furrowing in concern as he places his book down on the coffee table. Under his gentle gaze, you feel stripped bare, exposed in all your insecurity. You should have swallowed the question down, as sharp as it felt in your throat, anything to avoid the way he’s staring at you now.

“Nevermind,” You say quickly, snatching the TV remote from the table, and busying yourself with choosing a show. The screen flicks between channels, flashing brightly coloured lights across your faces. “That was a dumb question. I’m sorry, just forget it.”

“My love,” Keiji reached out a hand, lightly brushing the side of your face. With a gentle, but firm grip, he grasped your chin and tilted your head to the side to face him. “[Name]. Why are you asking me that?” 

“No reason. Don’t worry about it.” You try to laugh it off, but you can only choke out a quiet sob. Somehow, somewhere between asking the question and now, your eyes started burning, glazing over with unshed tears.

Damn. He’s looking even more concerned now. Why couldn’t you have just kept it to yourself, tucking those doubts far into the dusty corners of your head, where his ears would never reach them?

“Hey,” Keiji brushed his thumb under your eyes, wiping away a stray tear that falls. “You’re getting me worried now. Are you okay? What happened?”

There was a long pause, and something inside you cracks. You let out a sniffle, then a gasp, then the last piece of your self-control breaks, in a mess of tears and snot. Keiji’s face crumples, and he tugs you forward into his chest, rubbing your back soothingly as you continue to cry. 

“Did I do something?” He presses. “Am I not treating you the way you want to be treated? I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, but please tell me what I did–”

“No!” You quickly say, regaining your composure slightly. He’s never done anything, never hurt you, intentionally, or unintentionally, never said the wrong words, never made you feel unloved. That was the problem. Because nothing gold shines forever, and every good thing comes to an end. You were just waiting for the end, the moment he decides he is done with your self-consciousness, your bad habits, your looks. 

There is always a reason for someone to leave; you’ve learnt that the hard way. 

“I-I don’t know,” You mumble, tracing your nail against the couch. “I just–I guess, most people do. Get sick of me, that is. And I d-don’t wanna lose you too.”

Keiji was silent for a moment, and for a moment you worry that you've ruined things. The thought lingers in your mind for only a second, because a second later there are half-a-dozen kisses being pressed to the top of your head.

“I love you,” Keiji whispers between each peck. “I love you, so, so much. I love you, and I love you, and I will say it as many times as it takes you to believe it.”

The feeling of his breath tickles your skin, making you laugh weakly.

“I'm never going to get sick of you,” He continues. “I adore you, and every part of you. No matter what happens, I'm never leaving. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper back.

Keiji kisses your cheek. “Good. Now, why don't you put on a movie for us to watch?”

[thecranberriesslut]

Californication

Summary: You and your best friends dad commit sin on family vacay.

Pairing: no-outbreak! Joel Miller x Fem!Reader ’Cara’

Wc: about 3k

Warnings: The age gap is girthyyyy (Joel is 40-something, reader is 18), dirty themes, smut, read at your own risk, inappropriate jokes.

Notes: It’s my first fanfic posted on this account so please be nice, also english is not my first language so sorry for any typos, also you decided to read this so don’t complain about the age cap, it’s legal guys…

Californication Pt. 2

The sky is bleeding shades of gold and orange over the navy blue early morning shade, only a couple of stars still visible from the night before. You shift in your bed uncomfortably, not having been able to sleep almost the entire night, mostly due to pure excitement. Luckily, your alarm sounds, and you get up to turn it off. 7:01, you manage to make out as your eyes adjust to the morning hue. You gather your honey-blonde hair and tie it up, so it's out of your face. As you retrieve your phone from charging on your bedside table, you see 4 new messages from Sarah, your best friend since grade school, right when you moved to the suburbs from New York.

You love Sarah, you have from the very first moment you met her. When you had just moved to a new house, and you felt all blue until you saw a beautiful blonde girl about your age in the yard next to yours-- wearing denim overalls with flowers on them, reading a book and eating a strawberry popsicle. She saw you looking through the window, and yelled to ask you whether you wanted a popsicle too. Sarah was an angel-- unfortunately, you were the fucking devil, especially when it came to Sarah's father.

Joel Miller-- You had begun to notice his appeal in the seventh grade, right around the time you started feeling things while watching that one scene in titanic. When you happened to scrape your knee outside Sarah's house and Joel had to patch you up. He lifted you onto their bathroom counter and placed a hello kitty band-aid on your knee, while looking up at you with his dark brown, captivating eyes and giving your knee a kiss. He told you that you were such a good girl for being so brave. You, being a horny 13-year-old, thought about that for months. He was your sexual awakening.

And now you're 18, still not able to look at him without your face growing hot, and your knees nearly giving out, going on spring vacation to Palm springs with your parents, Sarah, and Joel.

“Cara, are you up? We're leaving in two hours, with or without you!”

You hear your mom's perky voice yell from downstairs, she can be quite dramatic. But you wouldn't change her for anything.

“Yeah, mom!”

You quickly gather yourself and make a mental note to not think absolutely anything dirty about Joel 'sex god' Miller while on vacation. You answer Sarah's anxiously worded texts about what to pack for the vacation, and whether she can wear a bikini or will your mom think it's too whorish. The thing you love about Sarah is how much she thinks about stuff, she knows your mom loves her, and still, she's worried. You tell Sarah not to worry, and that you'd already packed, because you can think ahead too. You move onto picking an outfit for the trip.

It has to be something cute, but not too cute so my parents don't get suspicious-- but Joel has to like it.

You think to yourself, and then go on to curse yourself for thinking about Joel, and what he might like. You need to get yourself together. He's like 40, not to mention your best friend's father. You settle on some classic Levi's 501 shorts and a white Brandy Melville long sleeve, because the morning dew can cause a chilliness in the air. You decide on no makeup, and to wear your hair down, unstyled. You hurriedly grab the last of your things, phone charger, bikini-- a book.

Furthermore, you grab a Red Bull from the fridge quickly before you make it down to the driveway. Sarah's already sitting in the backseat of your moms gray sedan, and Joel's loading up their stuff. You feel weak as you see Joel, he's wearing a black t shirt that shows off his sweat glazed biceps and that damn cross necklace hanging around his neck. God-- there's something in you melting right now, and it is not from the heat outside.

“Hey darlin', need any help with that?”

Joel asks, in his low voice, smooth like whiskey, topped with the most charming southern drawl imaginable.

“Uhm, yeah! Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

You smile at him as you hand over your suitcase, trying to paint your face with an attractive smile, it is probably coming off as shy and adolescent if anything. Joel smiles back, the kind of smile that could stop traffic, and he pats you on your lower back, his hand lingering there for a second too long to be considered innocent. Even after he lets go, the heat of his big hand lingers there.

“It's no problem, a pretty lil' girl like you shouldn't be doin' heavy lifting, go on sit down, Sarah's in the car already.”

You go in the car, ready to blame the heat for your fiery crimson cheeks if it comes up. You hug Sarah excitedly and your parents carry the rest of the stuff to the car. You almost choke on your Red Bull as you see Joel opening the back door and motioning you to sit in the middle so he can fit in the back. Reluctantly, you move to the middle seat, as close to Sarah as possible, so you don't accidentally brush up against her smoke show of a father and go even more red than you knew to be humanly possible.

---------

After a long 5-hour drive of sitting next to Joel as still as you could, avoiding sliding closer to him during bumps in the road, and trying not to look at the slight bulge in his shorts. You were exhausted. You were so aroused and embarrassed, you feared that in the span of 5 hours Joel had noticed your horniness, had thought it was super gross, and had somehow telepathically told your parents about it. You were pulled out of your thoughts as the car came to a stop in front of a gorgeous white beach villa and Joel patted your thigh.

“Finally here, bet you're dyin' to stretch those legs, huh?”

He fucking knew. And now you needed to find the nearest hole in the ground and bury yourself in it. You just let out an awkward laugh as he got out of the car, and tried to console yourself.

He doesn't know anything, you are being paranoid.

You and Sarah managed to get out of the car, and you almost dropped your phone when you saw it.

“There's a huge fucking pool!”

You yelled in utter shock and excitement.

“Watch your mouth, young lady!”

Your dad yelled from behind the car. You and Sarah just laughed as you ran inside the villa, the tile floor freezing in contrast to the scorching hot air, you ran to the biggest bedroom and claimed it for you and Sarah. There was a huge king-sized bed laying in the middle of the room with expensive looking white sheets, and pillow mints set on the pillows.

“I could get used to this.”

You exclaimed, joking with a certain sense of indifference, as you unwrapped the pillow-mint. Sarah only laughed and said something about her dad, before he appeared in the doorway with our bags.

“Speak of the devil.”

Sarah said.

“You were talkin' 'bout me?”

Joel asked, a smug smile on his face, as he set our bags down with ease. The veins in his forearms prominent as his muscles bulged. He was strong, like-- incredibly strong, those bags weighed a lot, and he lifted them with not as much as a grunt. His rich dark brown hair fell over his eyes and he pulled it back with his hands, revealing some gray salt and pepper hairs underneath.

“Yeah, Cara was saying how embarrassing you were in the car.”

Sarah said nonchalantly, rolling her eyes and smiling at you. You were horrified. First of all, you were already terrified of Joel and now the fact that he probably thought you disliked him.

“I didn't say that! I-”

You defended yourself frantically, until Joel interrupted you.

“Sure you didn't, you lil' troublemaker. Your dad 'oughta teach you a lesson about respectin' adults.”

He joked. You couldn't say anything back, just stare at him as he turned to leave the room.

“Gosh, my dad's embarrassing.”

Sarah complained.

“No he's fine.”

You said quietly. Joel's jokes sounded like normal jokes to everyone else, but if you were a horny 18-year-old avid dirty book reader, his jokes always had a dirty undertone to them. Like that one time he suggested he bend you over and spank you for stealing some of his beers with Sarah. His words always had an effect on you, and sometimes you felt like he was doing it on purpose. Although every time he joked, you tried to hide behind your shy, enigmatic personality and not reveal that you had just gotten hornier than ever.

You had all settled in by the time the sun was starting to set, your parents had gone out for a walk and Sarah wanted to go scout the surrounding area for shops and things to do. So you were alone at the villa-- with Joel. You hadn't dared to leave your room yet, but your stomach was begging you to go get food already, and you had no other choice. So you gathered your courage and went into the kitchen, Joel was nowhere to be seen. You opened up the fridge to see a tuna sandwich, and came to the conclusion that it was probably for the road trip, and you could eat it now. So you took a bite, and felt someone's eyes on you, you turned around to see Joel wearing only his swimming trunks, hair soaking wet, and his abs glistening, as he dried them with a white towel.

“So... now the naughty girl is stealin' sandwiches too, huh?”

He accused you playfully, while dragging the towel across his body lazily, as if trying to torture you.

“What? I- I didn't know this was yours-”

You were quick to defend yourself.

“Relax, Cara.”

He said, a sly smile painting his beautiful face. The way your name rolled off his tongue felt like a direct attack to the tough exterior you were trying to keep up around him, and it went straight to your core.

“I'm jus' jokin' with you, you're always so tense around me, why is that?”

He asked, his voice remaining velvety smooth.

“Uhm... no, I'm not.”

You tried to sound convincing, you didn't. The way you fidgeted with your shirt hem and always slightly lowered your head when you spoke to him, suggested that you were genuinely afraid of him. But you weren't, just head over heels in lust. Wrongful lust.

“You jus' seem nervous is all... is everything all right?”

He asked as he walked slowly closer, like a predatory cat, he was a tall man, well over 6 foot. As he got closer, he started to tower over you in an intimidating but undeniably attractive manner. His build was strong, he looked like a man who could throw you across the room and not break a sweat.

“I'm not nervous.”

You lied. He looked at you knowingly, like a teacher who had just caught you cheating and was about to embarrass you in front of the entire classroom. He brought his big rugged hand to your forehead and made a caressing motion, you were confused until he held his hand to the light and confronted you.

“You're sweatin', and it ain't even that hot in here, you're also red as a beet.”

He smiled, having caught you in a lie. You were about to say something, but he stopped you.

“You know, lyin's not nice-- only bad girls lie.”

“What are you, my father?”

You clapped back, soon to realize that was a mistake. Because he placed his hand on your chin gently, but in a way that was meant to intimidate you, and forced you to look straight in his dark, scary eyes.

“No, and you're damn lucky I ain't, cause I'd sure as hell punish you for lyin' to me, make you respect your daddy.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you could feel the familiar redness rising to your cheeks. He dropped your chin and laughed a hearty laugh.

"Listen, kiddo, I'm jus' messin' with ya.”

“Oh!”

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and tried to shake off your dirty thoughts.

He didn't say anything sexual, you are just a weird ass dirty minded virgin.

“And I'd work on hidin' your emotions better. Gettin' all worked up by your best friend's father callin' himself daddy-- you are one sick puppy.”

His crude words should have disgusted you, you should've felt gross or violated or something, but you didn't. All your feelings were overpowered by one. Complete intoxicating arousal, purely from his words. You didn't have a lot of time to gather yourself when you heard the door and saw Sarah walking inside with something in her hands.

“What do you have?”

You asked, curious. Sarah held the items up, and you could make out two bagels and two diet cokes. You smiled like you had just seen a million dollars.

“I love you so much!”

You screamed as you ran for the bagels.

“I thought you'd probably be starving, I found this cute ass little café down the road.”

You took the bagels and headed to your room. Feeling extremely guilty about what had happened with her dad just moments prior, how could he just say something so-- vigorous out of nowhere, and now you had to pretend it didn't happen. You placed the bagels on the bed and changed your denim shorts into your comfortable pink Hollister mini shorts, you took out your MacBook and scrolled endlessly, trying to find something for you both to watch.

“Can we watch The Kardashians?”

You asked Sarah, she just nodded a quick yeah and bit into her bagel. You watched the show until it was very late, the sun had set completely, and the only sound throughout the house was the quiet hum of an air conditioner. Sarah was half asleep, you had almost forgotten about the whole thing with his dad already.

It's fine, you were just reading too much into it, he didn't mean anything by it.

You were way too in your thoughts to go to sleep, so you decided that a little midnight swim could do you good. You changed into a tan Burberry bikini and retrieved a white towel from your closet, and made your way to the massive pool. The air felt warm, the night had brought a cold breeze, but the heat of the day still lingered in the air, almost like a memory. The water was warm, it was sitting there day after day in the heat, so it had gathered some of it. You could easily just go all the way in, it felt heavenly-- After having swam a couple of laps you lifted your head out of the pool. You almost drowned when you saw Joel, crouched by the side of the pool, staring at you and smiling.

“Fuck! You scared me!”

You screamed at him. Coughing out some water you had accidentally swallowed when you saw him.

“Sorry... was jus' enjoyin' the view.”

He said, smugly. You decided that if he wanted to play games, you would play along. You splashed him with water so his sweatpants and white tee got soaking wet, and smiled at him-- challenging him.

“Whoa! Kitty's got claws... But you ain't a brave girl.”

“Why's that?”

You asked, swimming closer to him and holding onto the border of the pool, inches from him. The light of the moon reflected on you from the water. The air smelled like smoke, brittlebush, and chlorine.

I probably look fucking ethereal right now.

You thought to yourself, feeling confident, trying your best to give Joel 'fuck me' eyes, something you'd learned while reading one of your grotesque books.

“You know I can't come in that pool, you're hidin' out 'cause you know you shouldn't challenge me.”

If there was ever a time to be courageous, this was it. You lifted yourself out of the pool slowly, Joel observed you with a slight sparkle in his eye. You got out of the pool and slowly walked over to your towel to dry yourself off. Joel laughed a low, hearty laugh.

“I guess I was wrong.”

He said, holding his hands up in defeat.

“So, what are you doing up this late?”

You asked him, party curious, partly trying to relieve the tension.

“Oh, well darlin' if I told you I'd be considered a dirty, bad man. Let's jus' say I couldn't sleep.”

To be continued.

[allthesethingswillendsoon]

Long, long time

CHAPTER THREE: Just before everything changes

SUMMARY: Elementary school is over, forever, and the girls are both excited and terrified at what the future looks like. They’re both coming to terms with growing up and what they have to give up in order to move forward.

NOTE: I wrote this one in a much more timely manner than the last one. I also think this one is infinitely better than the other two, and it's almost double the length, kind of. This one is definitely dialogue heavy, specifically in the last bit, so if you don't like that then sorry. I think the next one will be more internal monologue stuff as opposed to real life events. Also I think I might have messed up the dates a bit because I'm not from America so I don't fully understand the school system and how old everyone is, so I'll probably go back later and amend any issues. But I'm really not sure how I managed to mess it up because I made a timeline and everything, but whatever, what can you do? Once again thanks for the support :)

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Warnings: Mentions of parent leaving, angst, periods (?) 5.3k words Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

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27th of MAY, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

Elementary school, it had come to an end almost as quickly as it had begun.The years had passed mostly without incident, Paige and Azzi growing impossibly closer with each day that passed.

So, to celebrate the end of the school year, the Fudds and the Bueckers had decided to spend the night in their local diner. 

It was a small little place, tucked away next to the more industrial area of town. Bob always brought his own homemade food to work, but the young men that he employed were frequent customers of the little spot, being fans of the cheap, filling meals, or the pretty, young waitresses, or both in some cases. 

Tying with Applebees, the diner was pretty much the nicest place to eat in town. So, everytime anything happened that was worth celebrating, the Bueckers-Fudd clan would find themselves shoved into their favourite circular booth in the back corner. Though they would never admit it, the booth was much too small for the seven occupants, four of which were growing at an alarmingly fast rate. But nonetheless, they squashed themselves in, bodies pressed tightly together, yet not tight enough to be uncomfortable.

Tim called over their favourite waitress, Cathy, a no-nonsense southern lady,  who miraculously appeared to be both twenty and sixty at the same time. Her painted red lips twisted into a smile at the sight of her favourite customers, “Well hello, what can I get y’all?” Every time it was the same thing, her southern drawl filled with nothing but warmth.

The second the words left her mouth a chorus of young voices sounded out across the table, all fighting for their voice to be the loudest.

“Ummm can I get the pancakes!”

“I’ll have the nuggets, and a strawberry soda please.”

“Ooh! Ooh! I’ll have the fried eggs and bacon!”

“Cherry pie for me please, lots of ice cream on the side too.”

Perhaps an amateur waitress would’ve been overwhelmed by the barrage of requests, but this certainly was not Cathy’s first rodeo, and she wrote them all down with ease. The taking of their order was more of a formality than anything, the two families had slid into that booth more times than any of them could count, and ordered the exact same thing every time. The day Tim Fudd ordered anything other than the beef burger with a side of pickles would be the same day that pigs flew.

“Alrighty folks, that’ll be out in a few!” She said with a smile as she walked off to put the order through.

It only took seconds after she left before the complaining had already started, “I’m hungryyyyy!” Jose groaned.

“That’s why we just ordered, you stupid poop face.” Jon had retorted, punctuating his statement with a knock to Jose’s head.

“Watch it boys.” Tim had warned, purposefully ignoring the smug smile Jose gave to his brother next to him as he elbowed him in the ribs.

The conversation flowed easily, the adults fell into easy conversation, Paige and Azzi talking about whatever was piquing their interest at the moment, and the two brothers roughhousing just subtly enough that they wouldn’t get in trouble for it.  

When the food came out the table fell into a comfortable silence as the kids in particular scoffed their meals down like they had been starved of all food for the past five centuries. Once their appetites had been satiated, and they had entered a mild food coma, Katie spoke to the girls, “So, our big elementary school graduates, do you guys know what you want to do after high school?”

“Yeah, same as always, I’m gonna work with dad.” Paige responded, it was a given at that point, the dream she had had since childhood was not changing anytime soon.

Azzi, however, was a different story, she had always been indecisive, bouncing from one career aspiration to the next, consistently changing her favourite song. There were a lot of things she was unsure on, but there were also some things she was dead set on. She knew her favourite colour was pink, and that a close second was rainbow (Which was a real colour if you asked her). She knew Olaf was the best character of all time, and that unicorns were the best animal, even if there was no ‘proof’ that they were real. But most importantly, she knew her best friend was Paige Bueckers - a fact that Paige took great pride in, considering Azzi’s indecisive nature.

That very trait was what made her statement so outlandish, “You guys know what I wanna do, it’s been the same for like forever.” She had said it with such confidence, that for a moment the table went silent, guilt washing over them at not remembering her apparent, long time aspiration.

That was until Jon burst out with laughter, the rest of the table following suit as the absurdity of the young girl’s comment settled over the table.

“What?” Azzi pouted, eyes darting from person to person as they laughed hysterically at her. Even Bob, who was never one to poke fun at someone, was chuckling lightly.

“You change your mind, like, every week hon.” Katie explained, still slightly breathless from her laughing fit.

“No I don’t!” She tried to defend herself, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up indignantly.

“You do.” Jon stated matter-of-factly.

The young girl was growing frantic, confused as to why no one was refuting the absolutely insane claim. But surely her best friend of many years would defend her, right?, “Paige? back me up!” She begged, eyes boring into Paige, trying to gain her attention.

Paige avoided her pleading gaze, trying to keep a neutral expression, but no one missed the little smirk that appeared on her face, “Sorry Az, they’re right.”

Feeling as if she had been stripped of her dignity, she continued with a huff, “Well I want to be a teacher, like I said on Heroes day.”

“Like Miss Honey.” Jose chuckled.

“Yes. Like Miss Honey.” She hissed back.

“Literally the week after that you went on and on about how you wished you would’ve been an astronaut instead.” Tim reminded her, putting a sour expression on her face as she realised she had been proved to be quite the undecided personality.

“Whatever!” Azzi snipped. Her annoyed facade only lasted a few moments before her conversation with Paige started up again.

Once again they settled into their usual chatter, laughter bouncing off the walls of the slowly-emptying diner. Sat there in the squishy booth, a feeling of familiar contentment washed over the group, a warm glow erupting in each person’s chest. From the outside eye they may not have looked like a traditional family, but they knew in their hearts that they were the truest family out there, and that was what really mattered.

It was time for close, Cathy always let them stay right up till the end of the night. She’d start the closing clean and that was their sign that it was time to wrap it up. As she wiped down the tables and mopped the floors with a practiced ease, the group cleared their table and brought their plates and scraps up to the kitchen window where they passed it off to the dishboy with a cheery “Have a good night!”. 

When it came to the bill, there was always bickering between Bob and the Fudds. They had been so many times it was impossible to keep track of who paid last, yet no matter who won the squabble and got to put their card down, Cathy was sure to get a generous tip.

They spilled out onto the street, both dads slightly fumbled as they searched for their car keys under the dim light of the street lamps that lined the neighborhood.

As they sat on the curb outside the diner Paige and Azzi made a promise.

“This is gonna be our best summer yet.” Paige assured Azzi.

“Promise?” The curly-haired girl questioned, bringing her pinky finger out to the space between them.

Intertwining her pinky with Azzi’s, the blonde spoke again, “Promise.”

—------------------------

SUMMER, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

True to their promises, the summer before sixth grade had been the best of Paige and Azzi’s life.

Their parents had let them ride around on their bikes from sun up to just after sun down, and the girls were sure to make every minute of glorious, sweaty summer freedom count. They spent days upon days riding around aimlessly, going from street to street, ignoring the burning in their legs and the summer heat on their faces.

It was a kind of freedom they’d never felt before. A glorious, glowing kind that Azzi was sure to dangle in front of her brothers mockingly. But it was also the kind that felt like giving up their childhood at the same time. They had more responsibilities, both girls had their own set of house keys, a trust bestowed onto them by their parents that sent shivers down their spine at the thought of the sheer importance the keys held.

Change felt imminent. A deep-rooted anxiety that everything would be changing soon settled into the back of each girl’s mind. Perhaps they knew the other felt the same fears, perhaps they didn’t know. There truly was no way of knowing if the worries plaguing the two were shared, as both refused to speak them aloud, not wanting to waste breath on their concerns, in case doing so actually did bring them to life.

Yet at that same time, it was summer, and if there really was some ‘big-bad’ lurking around the corner, then the least they could do is enjoy the good times while they lasted, right?

One particularly boiling day, the pair rode to the lake on the outskirts of town and spent all day skipping rocks and swimming in the blue water to escape the temperature. Time was a thing of the past on that day, any thoughts of returning home before dark absent from the girl’s minds, fully focussing on savouring every minute of fun together. Only when the sun began to set, bright blue skies giving way to softer, orange-pink hues, did they realise they were a thirty minute bike ride away from home, and minutes away from being past curfew.

Scrambling onto their bikes like madwomen, they cycled faster than anyone had ever cycled before, turning the thirty minute bike ride into a twenty minute one. That feat, however, did not matter to either girl’s parents as they returned to their respective houses after their curfews. 

For the longest week of their life, they had both been banned from riding their bikes, stuck in their houses, or in the very few places they could be bothered to walk to. Despite the punishment they were still able to do whatever they wanted, opting to watch disney movies all day under ceiling fans with ice blocks galore waiting for them in the freezer.

Days rolled into nights which rolled into an endless slew of days and nights, practically each minute spent together, living inside each other’s skin. It was a dream. Getting to spend every waking second of the day just a walk across the street away.

It hadn’t all been fun though, Bob had insisted on going ‘home’ to visit their family in Minnesota. Paige thought it was silly, a sentiment she shared with Azzi, who mainly just wished that her best friend could stay with her the whole summer.

“It’s just stupid really. I mean I don’t even know them! The most I talk to them is when we call on Christmas and on birthdays!” The older girl had complained as she had stomped around her bedroom, chucking as many clothes as she thought were suitable for a five day trip to Minnesota.

“Yeah, I agree, your dad should just let you stay with me… Or let me come with you!” Azzi had replied from her spot splayed out on Paige’s single bed.

“That’s such a good idea, I’ll ask dad about both!” Paige had grinned back, sure that their plans would be approved by her dad.

Unfortunately for the girls, Bob had said no to both options with a disbelieving laugh that Paige had taken great offense to. So, for the first time ever the two were away from one another for more than three days, it was the longest they had ever been apart. Azzi complained to her family day after day in her best friend’s absence, and Paige spent the whole car ride to Minnesota groaning in pain, stating that she was “fading away” the further she got from Azzi.

Miraculously, both girls somehow managed to survive the five torturous days spent states apart, but due to the holes in their hearts that had formed in each other’s absences, they simply had to have a five day long sleepover to make up for the lost time, alternating houses each night.

—------------------------

3rd of SEPTEMBER, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

It was the night before, the night before the first day of middle school. The girls had begged their parents to let them have a sleepover the actual night before, but they had been quick to shut the idea down, knowing that either the pre-school nerves, or each other, or both would keep them up into the early morning hours, leading to two sleep-deprived pre-teens.

So. begrudgingly, they had settled on the night before, the night before.

Paige had spent all day school shopping with her dad, and was feeling like her head might fall off if she had to spend another minute in the uncomfortably bright changing rooms of a JC Penny or Old Navy shoving herself into a sweater near-identical to the past twenty she’d tried on. 

Yet somehow, the worst part of all was the stationary shopping. Being a single dad meant Bob had obviously taken on the role of both parents. So, that meant that school supply shopping was all on him, and he had taken it upon himself to make sure that Paige had the exact brand and make of each item listed on the school list. A lesson he had learnt when he had sent her to the first grade with an arsenal of black and blue pens, and not a single coloured pencil in sight, having neglected to look at the school issued list. It had ended in a phone call home and a red-faced Bob scrambling to find lead pencil in the ruins of the post-back-to-school-sale Walmart.

Although Paige appreciated her dad’s commitment to the quality and uniformity of her educational utensils, it did turn him into quite the Karen. Every single time he couldn’t find the exact item they were looking for he would call over a (likely underpaid) teenage worker, who really couldn’t care less, and near-force them to scour every inch of the store in search of the desired item. They’d always been able to find whatever it was, and Paige lived in fear for what would happen the day an item was out of stock, but that was a problem for future Paige.

For some reason, God decided Paige hadn’t suffered enough in one day, and sent every school parent and every colleague and every person Bob or Paige had ever met was at the mall on that very day. It felt impossible to move more than twenty feet without running into a chatty, well-intentioned acquaintance, who just happened to feel like spending, at minimum, five minutes saying things like, “Wow! How tall are you now Paige! I remember when you could fit in my arms” or another classic “Middle school, really? You’ll be picking a college before you know it!”. They were nothing but nice to her, so she was nothing but nice in return, which really just made the whole situation worse because it made them think she really did want to talk to them about their cousin’s neighbour’s son who’s “Just around your age!”

Despite the trials and tribulations of her day, the light at the end of the tunnel remained, Azzi (also her dad let her get a hot pretzel before they left which was really nice).

On the other hand, Azzi was lucky enough to have gone school shopping in the five gruelling days that Paige was away. Stocking up on pens and books and shirts and socks was a pain to do for one kid, but to do it for three? Safe to say, Bob was sure to always commend Tim and Katie on their valiant efforts of rounding up the kids for school shopping.

So instead of being soft-tortured in the mall, she had been run ragged by her brothers. They had so cruelly forced her to run around under the blaring summer sun through the sprinklers for hours and hours. They had played a variety of games, everything from flag football to soccer to basketball. Even games you’d think you couldn’t play with only three people they were able to do.

She was nearing the age where she would start to feign annoyance at her brother’s constant attempts to gain her attention, but she wasn’t quite there yet. Though her parents knew her well, and predicted that even when she went through her phase of faux-annoyance she would likely fail to avoid spending time with her family, after all she was definitely a homebody at heart.

Azzi’s only refuge from the summer heat had come in the form of lunchtime, when she was able to go inside and chow down on hot dogs and homemade lemonade. She reapplied her sunscreen diligently, trying her hardest not to miss a spot, wanting to avoid the sting that came along with a sunburn.

Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, by the end of the day her skin was pinking, feeling just raw enough to make her clothes feel like fire on her skin.

All of Azzi’s sunburnt discomfort, and Paige’s shopping-induced weariness faded when Paige and Bob knocked on the Fudd family door.

The two girls ran into each other’s arms as if they had been reunited after years, not after the actual, mere twenty-four hours they had spent away from one another.

After a bit of adult chatter, Bob took his exit, wrapping Paige in a bear hug before he headed home for the night.

Following a classic Fudd Saturday night meal of spag-bowl and garlic bread, the girls had changed into their pajamas and were readying themselves for bed.

Paige had gone to the bathroom, double checking her bladder really was empty, that way she wouldn’t be woken up needing to pee, definitely not because she was scared to make the walk across the hall to the bathroom in the darkness.

Azzi was sitting at her desk, fixing up her hair when she heard her name being called softly yet urgently from the bathroom.

“Az! Azzi! Azzi!” Paige’s frantic whispers were growing more and more desperate. The older girl diverting from her relatively chill demeanour sent alarm bells to Azzi’s mind.

She nearly sprinted to the bathroom door where Paige’s head was sticking out.

“What’s wrong Paige? Tell me? What happened?” From all that Azzi could see of Paige, the only thing concerning was the troubled look on her face.

“Can you get your mom Az, please?” Paige pleaded, her voice wobbled almost inconceivably, but Azzi caught it.

“C’mon Paige, I can’t see anything wrong. It can’t be that bad, seriously, just show me.”, bringing her hand up to the door to push through.

“NO!” Paige yelled, swatting Azzi’s hand away. She seemed to shock herself more than Azzi with her sudden outburst.

She took a deep breath and started over, “Sorry Az.” She paused again, as if trying to hype herself up before continuing, “I think I got… I think… I think I got my y’know…”

Azzi thinks, her brows furrowing as she tried to think of what Paige was talking about.

“You got your what?” She questioned, after a moment of contemplation.

“My period.” The words that had left Paige’s mouth stunned Azzi, she had suddenly lost her ability to speak, which only distressed Paige further.

“Earth to Azzi?” Paige said, waving her hands in front of Azzi’s face.

Snapped back to reality, but still in a bit of a daze, she responded, “Yeah?”

“So can you get your mom now please?” Paige half-begged, the conversation having been drawn out far longer than she had anticipated. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, one second.” Azzi mumbled as she walked off to her parent’s room.

A moment passed before she came back with her mom, the bathroom door now shut, Paige having bunkered herself down inside.

Katie motioned for Azzi to go, who protested, really thinking she could be of help, but her mom shut that down, staring her down till she stomped back to her room.

Knocking softly on the door, she whispered, “Paige honey, it’s Katie, can you let me in please hon?”

A minute of silence passed, punctuated by the light sound of sniffling and shuffling before the door creaked open, a red-rimmed-eyed Paige standing before Katie.

“Oh honey.” Katie soothed before wrapping Paige into a tight, bear hug.

Azzi listened from behind her door, and despite how her heart ached hearing her best friend in distress, it also made her heart beam to know that she was like family not only to herself, but to her mom, and her dad, and her brothers.

Katie was a great woman, and Paige knew she saw her as an almost second daughter. Yet, as she sat on the toilet lid, watching in half-confusion, half-horror as the older woman explained periods and uteruses and pads to her, she couldn’t help the overwhelming wave of sadness that washed over her.

Paige didn’t have much experience with having a mom, but she knew that getting your period was obviously something that you were meant to tell your mom, and not your best friend’s mom. She couldn’t help but feel like a core, mother-daughter bonding moment had been stolen from her, because it had. 

Was it the kind of thing where you ate chocolates together and cried? Or did you watch some old rom-com together? Paige’s nan, or rather her mom’s mom, loved ‘Sixteen Candles’ and said she and Amy used to watch it at least once every year. If her mom was there would they have eaten chocolate and ice cream and watched ‘Sixteen Candles’ and cried together?

It wasn’t fair that she didn’t have a mom that cared enough to stick around. But as Katie walked her into Azzi’s room, the younger girl rushed up to them and pulled them into a tight group hug. 

She didn’t know what it was like to have a mom, but in that moment she remembered that she did know what it was like to have people choose to unconditionally love her, and suddenly the things she didn’t have mattered a little less.

—------------------------

 They had decided to hop into bed early, considering the eventful night Paige had had, and the tiring days both girls had experienced.

From her bed Azzi broke the comfortable silence with a question that had been playing on her mind since she had been sent to wait in her room for Paige, “Soooo, how does it feel to be a woman now?”

There was a pause as Paige took a moment to think, before her voice sounded out from her place on the mattress on the floor, “Uh… I don’t know… it feels the same to be honest.”

Paige’s response slightly shocked Azzi, who had been convinced that getting your period turned you into a fully new person, “Really? I’m kinda scared to get my period.”

“It’s fine Az, I was just being a baby, you don’t have to worry.  Besides, your mom will be there to help.” Paige explained. Though she couldn’t see her face, Azzi was sure that her best friend had her signature light pink dusting of blush across her face as she thought back to her little outburst in the bathroom earlier.

“Yeah, she will be,” Azzi nodded, before she thought out loud, “I wonder how many girls in our grade have gotten theirs over the summer, probably lots.”

“Mmm, maybe, no way to know really.”

“I guess. It’s weird though, don’t you think? Just like growing up, the whole idea of it.”

Paige hummed in agreement, “I think it’s just a part of life. You can’t stop time. If I could, I'd probably just stay here forever.”

Azzi thought of Paige's statement, before she realised a fatal flaw to the plan, “But then you’d have to be on your period forever.”

“I wouldn’t mind though, cause I’d get to be with you forever”

The earnest words brought a soft smile to the young girl’s face. It could be easy to forget how sentimental Paige could be. She was really similar to her dad, in the way she had a seemingly tough exterior, when in reality she was one of the most emotionally intelligent, down-to-Earth people Azzi knew.

Instead of saying something of equal sentimentality, she opted for something a little more light-hearted, “Such a sap for me P.”

Paige rolled her eyes with such intensity it was almost audible, if that were even possible, “Nevermind I change my mind.” 

Azzi laughed lightly at Paige’s response, “Noooooo, stop. I’d stay here forever too.”

Instead of responding, they giggled a little, before they fell into a comfortable silence, both girls staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to overtake them when Azzi spoke quietly, “Do you think we’re ever gonna look back on this moment when we’re older and wish we could go back?”

“Maybe, everything is pretty good right now.” Paige whispered back after a moment of contemplation.

The younger girl hums in agreement, “Yeah, everything is great.” She went silent for a moment, before she added, “I hope things are always this good between us.”

Azzi’s words shocked Paige, taking her aback, “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t they be?”

Frowning, she explained, “I don’t know… just… sometimes people grow up and they just don’t like each other that much anymore. And like spending time together feels like a chore and stuff. And then they either stay and make each other miserable, or just leave and be miserable separately.”

Paige’s silence consumed the room for such a long time that Azzi had to turn to look down at her and check if she was awake. Her breath was soft, and Azzi could see the glow in the dark stars reflecting in Paige’s eyes as she contemplated her statement.

She took a deep, shaky breath before she asked, “Do you think that’s how my mom felt about my dad? Do… Do you think that’s how my mom felt about me?”

The silence returned after Paige’s statement, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air as Azzi struggled to find a way to explain to her best friend that she couldn’t understand why anyone would ever leave her.

“What? No, of course not,  why would you say that?” When Azzi had said what she did, she hadn’t realised Paige would think about it like that, but then again, how else would she think about it? 

The realisation that she had caused Paige to think her mom had grown tired of her made Azzi feel like she was going to throw up, like her world had come crashing down around her. 

“Well, why else do people leave? If we’re hanging out and we’re having a good time together, I’m not just gonna pack up my stuff when you turn away and leave without saying anything. People don’t leave when they’re having a good time.” Her breath catching on the last few words, “When they love the people they’re with.”

Paige wasn’t sure how long she had been holding her tears in, all she knew was that they had started to trickle down her face and she hated it and wished they would stop.

Azzi felt severely out of her depth, unsure how to soothe the older girl into understanding that for whatever reason her mom left, it was no fault of her own. “I don’t know… I think it’s more complicated than that when you grow up. Like all the issues that we think matter now aren’t gonna matter anymore, and we’ll be thinking about things like taxes and, like jury duty I guess. Like adults are just weird, big kids… And I have no idea why your mom left, but what I do know is that it’s not your dad’s fault or your fault. It’s her fault because she’s missing out on being around you, because you’re awesome, you’re the best person I know. And for what it’s worth you’ll always have me, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, you’re stuck with me for a long time Paigey.”

Sometime during Azzi’s little speech, Paige had begun to hyperventilate, full-body sobs wracking her skinny frame as she tried to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry Az, I don’t know why I’m so upset.” Paige managed to push the words out, gulping big gasps of air between each word.

“It’s okay Paigey, there’s nothing to apologise for.” Azzi breathed out into the fresh night air.

For what seemed like the millionth time that evening, the room fell silent, bar Paige’s steady stream of sniffling and sobbing. In the darkness Azzi shuffled off her bed and into Paige’s mattress, slipping herself under the doona.

The older girl kept her back turned to Azzi, who dragged her fingertips soothingly along Paige’s arms. They stayed like that for a moment, before Paige turned over, tucking her head into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Chest to chest, they were so close Azzi could feel the heaving breaths that Paige was taking as she cried into the neckline of her shirt.

“I love you Paige, You’ll always have me, no matter what.”

She didn’t hear her best friend’s response, only felt the muffled vibration of words against her shoulder and Paige’s hand grabbing onto her own, interlocking their fingers. 

Azzi drew stars and hearts and “I love you”s onto Paige’s back, not stopping till the blonde’s staggered breathing gave way to the soft snoring of her sleep. Only then did she let herself drift off into the comfort of sleep.

—------------------------

5th of SEPTEMBER, 2014

OAKRIDGE VIRGINIA

The moment had finally arrived. There it was right before their very eyes, Middle school. 

The wide brick building stood tall and imposing in front of them. Both girls couldn’t help the wild thrashing of their hearts as anxiety began to flood their systems at the prospect of middle school.

Their parents had left them only a minute prior, and they had been firmly planted in the same spot they had been before they left.

As the pre-warning bell went off, Paige glanced down at her purple, digital wristwatch, before she looked back up at Azzi.

“I think we need to go in now.” She spoke quietly, her worries evident in both her face and her voice.

“Okay, yeah. We’ve got this.” Azzi responded, unsure as to whether her words were intended to soothe herself, or Paige, or both.

“Yeah, we’ve got this, together.” Paige assured, pulling Azzi’s equally sweaty palm into her own.

“Together.” Azzi said with a squeeze.

With that they were off.

As they walked through the doors of Oakridge Middle School, it felt as if the world shifted right beneath their feet. From then on everything would be different, friendships would bloom and wither, personalities would change for the better and the worse. Yet as they stepped into their future, hand and hand, it seemed just a little less scary.

—------------------------

NOTE: Hope everyone likes this one, I definitely like it way more than the first two. Next one will be out probably in a bit over a week I think, if all goes according to plan.

Thanks again for reading :)

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hurt comfort of a villain with abandonment issues x a hero who comforts and helps them

“Should you be looking at me like that?” the villain whispered with two of their delicate fingers holding up the hero’s chin. Their lips brushed the hero’s jawline sweetly, but the hero didn’t swallow the bait.

“Should you be moving your arm?” the hero asked back and the villain nearly mistook their concern for actual frustration. Without a second thought, the hero tightened the sling around the villain’s neck and glared.

Of course it hurt. Every move hurt. The villain’s clavicle was very far away from being healthy but they couldn’t help it. Being close to the hero was like a drug.

When they were with them, they couldn’t think properly. They couldn’t make rational decisions. They couldn’t concentrate on the pain.

It was like the hero was a saint who’d been sent to the villain. Their own personal caretaker, their own savior. That was obviously ludicrous. Attaching themselves to the hero was one of their greatest failures in life - after all this was about the both of them and power. It had nothing to do with personal feelings and it didn't leave room for any kind of personal relationship. Not the kind the villain craved, at least.

"Do I have to remind you that you shouldn't help the enemy?"

"You think you are my enemy?" the hero asked.

"Your agency thinks that."

The hero scoffed.

"Do I look like I care much about them?"

"You're so grumpy today," the villain whispered. Immediately, the hero's gaze softened.

"I'm sorry, I…I was worried. Am. I am worried about you. I want you to heal." The hero took another look at the villain's shoulder, then at their arm. The villain could tell they were tired.

"I never meant to make you worry. Please, if I am troubling you or-"

"You are not," the hero said. They looked up at the villain and smiled softly. "I am not really sure where this is leading to. I am thinking too much."

"What do you mean?" The villain could feel their cheeks heat up. It must have been too much for the hero. Too close. Too intimate. The villain could tell their enemy was going to leave, it was only rational - they had licked each other's wounds, had even shared a kiss. It was only a matter of time.

They couldn't breathe.

They couldn't think.

They weren't really anyone without the hero, were they? They wanted to throw up.

"I can change," they said quickly. "I promise, I can change for you."

The hero frowned.

"Huh?"

"I…" The villain heard their own heartbeat. "I mean it, whatever you want, I can give up the whole criminal thing, I will stop being so lazy, I promise I can do more, I can change for you."

They felt like throwing up. Why was this always happening to them? Were they really this rotten creature no one could stand? Were they really this horrible human being?

They knew they had made mistakes in the past and they knew being a criminal was not exactly…noble. But it paid the bills.

God, was the villain really such a nightmare? Nightmarish enough to be brought back to the orphanage over and over again, disgusting enough to be left to die, horrible enough to be betrayed.

"Okay, listen." The hero's eyes were wide, attentive. They pressed their right hand against the villain's chest, right where their heart was. The other found a place on the villain's torso. "I am not going anywhere. What I meant is that I am not sure how our relationship is developing. I don't want us to tiptoe around each other. I want us to be together."

The villain stared at them, their own eyes widening. They blinked.

"You can be so blunt…"

"You love that about me, don't you?" The hero pressed a soft kiss to their jaw and the villain's heart started to calm down gently. The hero really was a saint. So easily. They did it so easily. "Come on, I'll make breakfast and you rest some more."

[paperstorm]

(I'm so sorry if this posts twice, I had it queued but tumblr seems to have eaten it) Thanks for the tags @annoyingcloudearthquake @rangersoup @thisbuildinghasfeelings and @carlos-in-glasses! Here is a snippet from Somewhere in a Song, chapter posting tomorrow :)

It takes Carlos a moment, as he steps into the main part of the theater from a side entrance, to notice he isn’t alone. TK is sitting at the edge of the stage in the middle, with his legs hanging over the sides, purple Converse on his feet and black jeans despite the summer heat outside.

“Oh,” Carlos says in surprise, from yards away where he’s standing in the aisle between rows of red velvet chairs.

“Hey.” TK nods at him in greeting. His hands are tucked underneath his thighs and Carlos looks around quickly, wondering if TK’s bandmates are here as well. He thought he spotted Marjan back in the lobby of the hotel, but now he’s wondering if it wasn’t her. He only saw the woman from the back.

“Where’s the rest of your crew?” TK asks, echoing the question Carlos hadn’t gotten around to asking.

“Back at the hotel. Relaxing.”

TK nods again.

“What are you doing here?”

Raising an eyebrow, TK combatively asks, “What are you doing here?”

Carlos bites back a sigh.

Before he can reply, TK gives him an answer. “We’ve never been at this venue before. The last time we were here, we played some rinky-dink place across town.”

Their eyes meet and their gaze holds for a long moment. Carlos steps forward, walking further toward the stage. He climbs the five steps up the side of it and turns so he can take in the seemingly endless rows of seating from the vantage point he’ll have tonight when they perform on this stage.

“I like to get to know a place before I play it,” TK continues with a casual shrug. He looks around, leaning back on his hands and head tipping back to look up at the high vaulted ceiling, intricately painted in gold and red and orange. “Especially these old historical theaters. Get a feel for the bones of it, a feel for …”

He trails off and Carlos finds himself desperately curious to hear the end of the sentence, because it sounds so much like exactly what he was doing five minutes ago. TK looks over at him, and then quickly looks away.

“Never mind,” he says, with a laugh and a roll of his eyes. “Did you want the stage for something? I can head out.”

“A feel for what?” Carlos asks.

TK licks his lips. He’s wearing glittery earrings today and they sparkle in the overhead lights. His head turns again, blinking at Carlos, green eyes searching his face. Whatever he’s looking for, he must find, because softly he says, “For the artists who were here before me. Jazz bands or opera singers or – I don’t know, fucking … tap dancers.”

Carlos chuckles and watches as just a glimmer of a smile changes the shape of TK’s face before he’s gazing back out into the empty auditorium.

“Maybe it’s stupid,” TK says with a shrug. There’s an edge to his voice that suggests he’s daring Carlos to make fun of him and see what happens. “But I like to think everyone who gets to perform in a place like this leaves a mark on it. Like they’re all still here, somehow, and after tonight we’ll be here too, cheering on the next act that comes through.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Silence settles between them for another moment, and then TK asks, “So, what are you doing here?”

“Same thing, basically,” Carlos tells him honestly.

TK looks at him, and again Carlos feels as if he’s being x-rayed by those clear green eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. That’s what music can do, right? Make you feel like you’re part of something bigger than yourself. Bigger than just a song or a show or a moment in time.”

Tagging @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @eclectic-sassycoweyes @carlos-in-glasses

@bonheur-cafe @actual-sleeping-beauty @herefortarlos @heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo

@goodways @lightningboltreader @emsprovisions @freneticfloetry @liminalmemories21

@reasonandfaithinharmony @ladytessa74 @never-blooms @sanjuwrites @orchidscript

@lemonlyman-dotcom @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce @hereghostslive

@just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @ironheartwriter

@butchreyes @anactualcaseofthetruth @ditheringmind @thisbuildinghasfeelings @whatsintheboxmh

@irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @chicgeekgirl89 @nancys-braids

@carlossreaders @denizoid @everlastingday

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[nonrebloggingviewerswillbeshot]

An Observation

Disclaimer: This is written by a sex(also kissing) repulsed, Asexual.

I think I finally realized what made Veilguard my favorite out of the other 3 games.

In the other 3 the precedent was set. If you wanted a relationship, sex, and its various other intricacies was a requirement.

Heck even the chantry boy was ready to go to the bone zone in no time at all.

If I could mod out the sex and stuff from the other games I would do it in a heartbeat.

Veilguard however? They took care of that for us- or me anyway!

Not to say you don't get to the bone zone at the end of the game, but at least to get a 'relationship' you didn't have to jump through the hoop of physical intimacy to get there.

They made you work for it!

Earn it!

Build a bond with the person you were interested in.

I'm so tired and bored of romance portraying the importance of sex, when some of us value a deeper emotional connection far more than any form of intimacy. I get it, I'm on the more niche end of my little spectrum, but how I feel is still important and valid.

Seeing media, in any form, push how important and expected sex is in a relationship just hurts to see, for me. I've known enough people in my life who don't understand asexuality in any way shape or form and will try and guilt you into putting out because, well, if you aren't there's something wrong with you. And I'm wasting my time with you if its never going to happen.

I'm not for everyone, and I don't expect to be. But if you're with me, you already know what to expect. I'm up front about it and am not going to hide who and what I am.

I dare say that my opinion on this translates onto my romance choice in Veilguard. Lucanis. Who was so clearly on the spectrum of asexuality it could make you cry. The fact that we, or I, got someone that just wanted to be with you without all that extra stuff... maybe I did weep a little.

Because FINALLY!!!

I refuse to believe that MK said he was Demi to, as people like to put it "pull a JK.R" because I knew what he was pretty darn quickly. And even then she responded to someone asking if he was, because clearly other people could tell too! And OMFG the Wyvern thing???

The thing about us Ace people and dragons being cooler than sex(I came into the community later than most so that was always the inside joke I remembered)? Perfection! I don't know if that was the goal, but damn did I love it regardless! It was so good!

So, all in all, I'm sorry that most of you don't think Lucanis' romance was done very well, and it needed more of something. But... you can pry his MK post confirming, slow burn, acts of service, demisexual, just let me fall asleep in your arms at the end of the day, having romance, from my Cold Dead Hands!

I've seen the cut content. I've seen the other romances in game, and I don't want his to be anything like theirs. Or change, get patched with more content, etc.

Let me, or dare I say 'Us' have this! You had 3 other games to enjoy your sex drives. Let me have just this one! He's not for everyone, and dare I say it, he doesn't need to be.

Much like how Dorian was gay, Sera was a lesbian, Cullen wouldn't date a Qunari. Solas wouldn't be with you unless you were an Elf. Not all romances need to be for everyone. And that's okay!

End rant!

Disagree with me if you wish, idrc, just be civil about it.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 13

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Follow @romana-updates and click follow, join my tumblr community or ask to join the tag list to keep up!

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Chapter summary: Past. Dolly is a part of a family. Present. Seeing Stevie

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

a/n: PAST is a short chapter. the floor of the next few chapters is.... bad?? so im trying to chop it all up the way its best but its so hard trying ot match themes up with the before and after ;-; so im sorry. I feel like this chapter was boring.

Before

You tried, he really fucking tried to go back to normal after that, but ever since kissing you, feeling you body… things became more charged than normal.

You sat closer to him now, his body warm and inviting and buzzing with energy with everyone piling into the media room to watch a movie. Earlier today, Remy came into your room while you taught, trying to rally everyone together for a movie night.

*

You hear the door creek and glance over, smiling when you see Remy’s black and red eyes popping through the cracked door. Waving him in, you continue with the lesson. At 6’1 but not built too wide, Remy would not be out of place in your height school class seats…

Unfortunately, he was sitting in on your small elementary class.

Most mutations manifest with puberty, but some, especially second generation mutants, have the x gene activated much earlier. Your class was small, small enough you usually had to figure out how to teach content at 3 different grades at the same time… You couldn’t have a whole class just for the one 1st grader. When Remy came in, you were getting ready to read a book. You explained that each of the grades would have an assignment based off the book, and what each grade should be thinking about during the book, but to try and concentrate on the story first and foremost.

“I’ll be doing a think-aloud, so I will be modeling to you how readers think through books as we go.” You don’t have any degree, but you've been doing research on how to be an effective teacher.

Remy listened intently, looking like he’s about to REALLY enjoy the story, but you have some mercy. His legs look like they are losing circulation.

“Okay friends, how about we read the book on the carpet.” The kids erupted into cheers. “IF we can show Mr. LeBeau out best quiet feed and listening ears, okay?”

It was not very quiet, but they didn’t run.

“Mr. Lobo!” Said Micheal, not watching where he was going. “Are you and Miss Palmer in wuv?”

Remy bursts out in laughter, while your face burns red, quickly apologizing to Remy and trying to quell the kids. 

“No!” Another kid, Katy, piped up. “She loves Mr. Howlett!”

Remy was no help, your handful of students arguing that you were in love with “Mr. LeBeau”, “Mr. Howlett”, “Mr. Summers” and even one kid asked about “Miss Grey”, which felt like the start of a very convoluted love… square?

“1, 2, 3, eyes on me!”

The children chimed back. “1, 2, eyes on you.”

“Okayyyy” You cleared your throat. “You guys don’t need to worry about who loves who. Me and Mr. LeBeau are just friends, and he is going to model good listening for me.”

30 minutes later, Remy did not model good listening, but he did at least help the younger kids with their assignment, so there was that.

“You’re a pain, you know that?” You tidy up before heading to the high school English room. This room was used for most subjects so the elementary school so most of your kids just stayed in the room coloring or reading or talking.

“A pain in your ass?” He whispered, and you gasped in response, smacking him with crumple cardboard paper.

“Hey! I whispered!” But he stopped swearing. “I wanna have a movie night with all of us, are you in?”

As much fun as it sounded, big groups of friends still made you nervous. Remy was friends with everyone, and although no one had treated you badly, there were people you knew still thought you were weird. They weren’t wrong. Moreso, it was hard with a large group of people who all were friends together. Then there was you. Last week's dance was enough for a little while. “Whose all coming?”

“Well, Logan of course, but I think he’s assuming you’ll be there.” He answered, and smirked at your little smile. “Kurt and Ororo said yes, Hank said maybe, you know how he gets caught up in his work, and I’m gonna invite Scott and Jean after you tell me yes because you love me so much????”

Your head sank a little at that. You liked Scott a lot, and Jean was always kind to you. You had no reason to dislike them…

“I don’t… I don’t think I can make it. Papers to grade and all that…”

Remy’s face crumbled. “Why? What? Too many people? I’ll uninvite everyone!!  I’ll grade all the papers! Pistache, you’re the one I actually want there!”

You don’t know what to do with that. You knew Remy loved you, and that he was your good friend, but you weren’t used to someone choosing you first.

“It’s just… Well, don’t uninvite people, that’s crazy.”

“But I want you to come! What is it?”

He was too loud, some of the kids were trying to eavesdrop (nosy little things. You loved ‘em.) so you pull him off to the side, talking quieter. 

“It’s just… Scott…”

Remy frowned at that, a little concern on his face. “What, has he given you problems? I thought he’d be understanding, knowing he knows what you-” But then he stops himself.

You almost missed it. Pinching your brows, you shake your head, “N-no, Remy, he’s fine- he- it’s Logan and Scott, Remy, come on. The fight?”

He relaxed. “Oh. Well, aren’t they over it?”

Over it? You don’t think they’d ever be over it. There was never friendship, never something to rebuild, only jealousy, anger, and a little bit of attempted murder. 

You sigh, pinching your brow. “Remy. Logan tried to kill him. Scott keeps accusing him of abusing me. Logan slept with his wife. Scott accused him of m-o-l-e-s-t-i-n-g Rogue”

“Wait, what?”

“I can’t expect them to get along. And if Jean’s in the mix I- Remy, why would you want to invite all three of them?? Are you trying to start another fight?” The tone was harsher than you wanted it to be, but you’d had an intense week, and he gave you a piece of information you weren’t sure what to do with.

Your friend in front of you completely deflated, his normally happy face falling and his red eyes looking down. “Yeah, you’re right… I didn't think it through…”

You instantly felt bad. How could you be so mean to Remy? Sweet, sweet Remy? Remy who’d been there for you though it all. “I know. You’re friends with everyone, so you want everyone to be friends. I get it. I’m sorry.”

Remy gives you a small smile, seemingly recovered. “It’s alright, Pistache. What if I just don’t tell Scott and Jean? Or we could just watch something together? I uh… I heard from Rogue today. Got a letter and it… wasn’t very long, is all. Bit worried she’s forgotten about me in her grand adventures.” He gives a little laugh, but it’s nervous.

You consider the people coming, and decide it’s a small enough group. And Logan will be there, so you won’t be alone.

“Yeah, the movie sounds fun. Thanks for inviting me, Remy.”

*

You leaned against Logan, snuggled up to him comfortably as everyone found their spots. Kurt poofs in front of the large TV, see’s you in Logan’s arms, and his yellow eyes light up. “YAYYYYYY! Darauf habe ich gewartet!!” He teleports to you and Logan, squeezing both your cheek, poofing onto Logans shoulders to hug his whole head, then to behind the couch where he gave you a hug that clearly respected your personal space stuff.

“What are you on about, elf?” Logan pretends to be grumpy, but other than Wade, Kurt is his best friend.

He’s standing in front of you two again, grinning wildly and you can see his sharp teeth. “You two!” He gestures. “I’ve been knowing something is going on between you! Liebe, nein? I’m so happy it had finale happened!”

Morph threw a popcorn kernel at him. “Nothings happened yet. They are in denial.”

“We’re not in denial!” Logan barks, but he’s blushing. “We’re just…” he looks at you. “Taking it slow…”

“Oh.” Kurt’s shoulders drop. “Then… wat eez all dis?” He gestures to Logan’s arm around your shoulder.

You giggle. “Well, like he said, we’re not in denial.”

Kurt observes you for a second. “Mph. Well, dis eez… embarrassing for me, ja?”

You were about to protest when when Remy throw a pillow at him, yelling something about sitting down and shutting up. Kurt BAMF’d away, and reappeared on the armrest next to Logan.

“Dis guy.” Kurt gestures to Remy, whispering a little too loud. “Get’s broken up with vone time and he’s a mess.” He shimmers down between the arm rest and Logan, forcing the wide older man to scoot himself and you over, muttering, ‘well excuse me, I guess.’. Kurt settles into his spot opposite you, next to Logan. “Meanvile, I get broken up with, MANY TIMES! Including by him, and wat do I get!”

“We weren’t dating!”

“But you like to say I love you during sex, no? Oh, Kurt! Mo linm twa!” he mimicked, but the humor was in his voice, as it was in Remy’s as he retorts.

“At least I don’t pray the Hail Mary after sex!”

“At least I know the Hail Mary”

“I’m Cajun, do you really think I don’t know basic catholicism?”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I just have catholic guilt about.”

“You could use a little guilt, mein freund.”

“I’ll leave that to Scott.”

Hank slaps the armrest of his seat. “If we’re not actually going to watch a movie-”

Remy and Kurt laugh, and Remy starts the movie.

As you watched, you couldn’t help think about how good life had gotten. A peaceful, easy feeling comes over you as you listen to Kurt and Remy whisper to each other the whole time, Logan telling them to ‘shut the hell up or I will stab you.’ Morph loudly booing the cheesy sex scene, and Hank letting all of us know what is impossibly and unrealistic in the movie. Things were good.

There was, however, a gnawing piece of your mind… it reminded you what Remy said. Scott knows. Scott knows what you’ve been through… or what you’ve done, you didn’t let Remy finish.

You’d figured Charles had told Scott at least a baseline of what you’d experienced. Scott was his man on the ground, the one who had these day to day interactions with you, the staff, the teens. It made sense, and you didn’t expect the top teacher and school leadership (and basically the HR department) to NOT know one of his staff was severely traumatized. 

You’d JUST told Logan what you’d done. You’d told Remy last month. You just wanted them and Mr. Xavier to know… had he gone and told Scott you were a killer? Did people other than Scott know?

After

Jean was all ready at the table when Logan brought you in, gently laying you down on the bed for Jean to examine.

“What happened?” She asked, frowning as she looked at your slightly bloodied face. The cabinet hit your forehead and nose.

Logan began to answer. “She hit her face on-”

“I was asking Miss Palmer.”

Scowling, Logan shut his mouth. “I… I slipped on water cleaning up from the party. My face hit the cabinet.”

“Did you fall?”

“No, I caught myself. Or- I think Logan caught me? It’s kinda hard to remember.” It was fuzzy, honestly. You’d thought he hit you, the ghost of the slap still stinging your cheeks… but that was probably something else.

“Yeah, I caught you.” He strokes your cheek, soothing the leftover pain there.

Jean does her work, informing you that you were mildly concussed.

“You’ll need to rest. No work for a few days minimum.” She raises an eyebrow at you. “No repeats of when you got sick and refused to tell anyone until you passed out. You’re going to take off the rest of this week.”

You open your mouth to argue, but she points a finger with a slight smile. She’s tired, but her bedside manner is compassionate. “No. We can shuffle a few things around. Wade can take over a few simple classes while he’s here and move those teachers to your kids, and Hank can easily slide back into teaching English. Well, maybe high school and middle. I can handle the littles.”

She turned to Logan.

“Logan, I don’t think we can get you off that long, but we’ll get you off a few classes so you can look after her. I’m sure Wade will be happy to teach gym, and Professor can take on history. Next week is finals anyway, so I know you guys have a lot of study periods planned.” She touches your shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

You nod, but there’s a more pressing issue. “And Stevie?”

Jean smiles. “He’s doing fine. Don’t take aspirin as it could cause bleeding but tylenol is okay for your head pain. Stay hydrated, nothing caffeinated.” She types everything up for you, then prints it out. “Here’s a care plan, but know I’m right here if you need me.” 

“Thanks, Jean.”

Logan gave a nod. “Yeah, thank you. I know you were in bed.”

She closed up her laptop. “Not a problem. Now, I know you’re seeing a regular doctor, and that’s okay… but I thought… if you’d like, I could share what I saw when I checked on Stevie.

You blink. “You mean… like an ultrasound?”

“Kind of, but much more clear. It’ll be almost like you’re there with hi-”

“Yes!” You’re so excited you almost forget any fear or pain.

Logan nods his head, eyes wide, and takes Logan’s hand before laying her other one on your stomach again. Suddenly, her mind’s eye was your own, and you could see him. You little baby asleep in your stomach, and it was like he was in a pool of water; not quite totally clear, but not blurry either. It was incredible.

You begin to cry.

“Go get your girl to bed, Logan.”

*

Logan laid you down on to bed after having you drink a bunch of water. “Wake me up when you need to pee, okay?”

You don’t look at him. “Okay.”

There is a short pause. “Hey.” Logan cups your face, bringing it to you. “It was an accident, okay? Just an accident.”

And all you can do is give him a smile, because you don’t know what option you have. “I know. I’m kinda tired, Lo. Can we talk in the morning?”

He gave a sad smile back. “Yeah dollface, we’ll talk in the morning. You’ll see. It’s all be better in the morning. I’m gonna step out for a sec, but I promise I’ll be here if you need me, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Goodnight, baby doll.” He kisses your tummy. “Goodnight, Stevie.”

*

Logan’s head was reeling. How did that happen? What the hell even happened? He hurt you, he hurt you, his pregnant fiance, his sweet, loving girl, carrying his child. What if something had happened to Stevie? Jean said he was fine…. But what the fuck did she know? Nothing! That bitch and her smug attitude. Stupid fucking cunt. She was probably just lying, trying to sabotage him. Not wanting to have his baby wasn’t enough. She can’t let him be happy. She won’t let anyone else have his baby. She’s just as bad as Scott, stupid mother fucking pansy ass shithead. Couldn’t fuck his wife right then got mad she needed someone else to satisfy her. Must’ve learned how to take it up the ass like he’s always dreamed and won her back, now he can’t let him be happy.

They are out to get him.

Logan needed to clear his head. He needed to let it out.

He needed insight from someone who, while being God perfect idiot, had a strangely good sense of the world. Sure, he didn’t understand what the fuck the mouth was talking about half the time, but Wade understood the world in a way Logan couldn’t.

When Wade answered his door, he was in a hello kitty t-shirt. That was it.

Logan only paused a moment before saying. “Meet me in the west lounge in 5?”

“Hell yay!” Wade sleepily cheered. “I’m on my way!” He began stepping forward, but Logan stuck a hand out to shove him back, He glanced down to his dick, then back up. “Pants on, Wade.”

*

An hour later, Logan had spilled it all. The slap, the… sex he might have been a little forceful on, how Stevie’s conception was from that… half drunk, he let it all out.

And for once, the merc with the mouth only had 4 things to say.

“Jesus fucking christ, Logan.”

Okay, next chapter we see logan baring it all and i think??? I think we see what triggered logan into the assult

ugh its soooo hard to plan i keep changing the outline so much. This series has given me the most problems out of every series ive written! and ive written many ;-;

Anyway guys im talking to a guy and he knows x men stuff and is chronically online like me and i realllllly like him we met on hinge bc he made a Jim Croce reference which if you know me you know i looooove old music!!! heres too hoping!

I sent him my x men restaurant au bc he's familiar with fanfiction! he really enjoyed it :))) Im taking requests for the restaurant au drabbles!

I also started a romcom/omegaverse/enemies to lovers Logan x reader! Im leaning into the goofy and silly bc too much dark i think isnt good. dark fics help me work through things but too much is.... too much. Im not in a great place mentally rn so i dont wanna linger you know?

I also want to just highlight my go fund me bc im once again struggling greatly to pay for school and im just... so close .;-;

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia a @new-genesis100 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight @nonamevenus

[slickdickwitchbitchh]

Obx: After Dark

Chapter 1: Pilot

Summary: The roommates moved in full of hope and camaraderie, eager for a fun summer together, but things quickly soured when Rafe started stirring trouble. Tensions reached a breaking point, culminating in a heated fight between JJ and Rafe, leaving the group on edge and questioning the dynamic in the house.

A/N: the fight between JJ & Rafe is based on this fight from Vanderpump Rules, my favorite reality show i suggest watching because it’s hilarious.(i’m sorry the video is long i suggest starting at 3:05 that’s when the fight starts)

Masterlist

Pilot

Voiceover/Narrator: "The Outer Banks, a chain of islands off the coast of North Carolina, where the sun kisses the ocean, and paradise is just a few steps away... [Clip of John B.]: 'Paradise on Earth.' It's the perfect blend of wild beauty and untamed youth. Surfers, sun, and the sound of crashing waves—the OBX is a dream come true... for some. But for others, it's a playground for drama, secrets, and, well... revenge."

Cut to an aerial shot of a sprawling mansion nestled on a cliff, waves crashing beneath. The camera zooms in to the front door where the first cast member enters.

Voiceover/Narrator: "Tonight, we're taking a group of friends, exes, and enemies, and locking them together in a secluded mansion for one very special week. Why? To celebrate Y/N's 21st birthday, of course."

Cut to Y/N walking up to the grand mansion door, looking around in awe. She steps inside, and the camera follows her into the foyer.

Y/N’s Confessional Y/N is sitting in a chair with a slight smirk. "Hey, I’m Y/N. Just turned 21, finally legal. I just moved here six months ago, so I don’t subscribe to the pogues versus kooks rivalry. I’m my own person and I’m pretty much friends with everyone, as long as they don’t come for me."

Producer's voice from behind the camera: "How do you handle conflict?"

Y/N’s face hardens slightly as she thinks about it. "I mean, I have a mouth on me, I don’t take shit from no one. I’m not one to initiate a fight. I think it’s ugly and trashy, but if you’re gonna step to me, I’m gonna protect myself. What am I supposed to do? Take it? Are you kidding me?"

Producer's voice from behind the camera: "Are you a partier?"

Y/N grins and shrugs casually. "I definitely come home at six in the morning a lot."

Y/N walks into the living room, surveying the space with a smile, before hearing someone enter behind her. She turns around.

Cut to Sarah Cameron entering, her heels clicking on the marble floors. She pauses, looking around, and then the camera switches to Sarah’s confessional.

Sarah Cameron’s Confessional "I’m Sarah. I’m 22. It’s been a minute since I've seen some of these people, especially Rafe." A brief pause as her expression shifts slightly. "But what’s crazy is, my dad, Ward, he left us half of his fortune. So, I guess this trip’s gonna be... interesting. I’ve been dating John B. for about four months now, and I’m really looking forward to this week. Just... I hope nothing crazy happens. I’m all about peace and good vibes, but when it comes to Rafe and Topper... we’ll see."

Cut to Sarah entering the mansion. Y/N, excited, barrels down the stairs and jumps on Sarah, spinning her around.

Sarah: "Happy birthday, baby!" gives her a hug

They embrace for a moment before Sarah pulls back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Sarah: "Okay, but Topper and Rafe are staying here too? That’s what he told me."

Y/N’s face falls into a nervous expression.

Y/N: "Fuck…" pauses "Well, that’s gonna be... interesting."

Sarah and Y/N lock eyes for a moment, then both spot a bottle of tequila on the counter. Without another word, they grab the bottle and each take a shot.

Cut to the front door, where John B. is struggling to carry two suitcases out of the car. The camera switches to his confessional.

John B.’s Confessional "I’m John B., 23, and I’ve been dating Sarah for the past four months. My best friends are the pogues—JJ, Pope, Kiara, Cleo, Y/N, and Sarah. As for the kooks... I don’t necessarily like them, but it’s not on sight if I see them."

Cut to John B. entering the house, dragging the bags in. He sees Sarah and Y/N laughing by the counter.

John B.: "Happy birthday, Y/N!" gives her a big hug

Y/N: "Thanks, JB! Where’s JJ?"

The camera cuts to JJ riding down the sun-kissed streets of OBX on his motorcycle. The sound of the engine rumbles as he speeds down the road.

JJ’s Confessional "I’m JJ, 23. Yeah, I don’t like kooks. And it’s on sight if I see them. I’ve got my squad—Y/N, Sarah, John B., Pope, Kiara, Cleo, and we all stick together." pauses "I’ve got a little thing for Y/N, but... it’s complicated."

JJ pulls up to the mansion on his bike, kicking the stand down. He walks inside, throwing open the front door with a grin.

JJ: "Papas home!"

The camera cuts to Sarah, John B., and Y/N rushing to greet him at the door. Y/N gives JJ a hug that lingers longer than necessary, causing Sarah to shoot John B. a subtle, knowing look. He gives Sarah a matching look, and together, they both simultaneously walk away, leaving JJ and Y/N still hugging.

Pilot (Continued)

JJ and Y/N finally pull apart, both grinning. JJ's eyes twinkle as he reaches into his bag.

JJ: "I've got your birthday gifts."

Y/N: "Gifts? Plural?"

JJ: "You know it."

He opens his tattered duffle bag, rummaging through it before pulling out a crumpled brown paper bag. He hands it to Y/N with a grin.

Y/N: She takes the bag, holding it up to her nose and sniffing it, jerking back immediately. "Woah."

JJ: "I know, right? Only the 'stickiest of ickies' for my girl’s 21st."

Y/N laughs, the excitement in her voice unmistakable.

Y/N: Loudly and dramatically, she yells "STICKYYYYY!" like Tyler, The Creator and Sexy Red's song.

She gives JJ another long hug, grinning from ear to ear.

Y/N: "We’ll save it for tonight."

JJ: "Bet. And I’ll give you your other gift tonight."

Y/N: Teasing with a smirk, she raises her eyebrows. "Oooo, my other gift at night? Sounds sexy."

They both burst out laughing, the playful tension between them undeniable.

Cut to the upstairs area where everyone is gathered around, discussing sleeping arrangements. Y/N and Sarah stand in a room with four queen-sized beds. Y/N quickly claims one of the beds while Sarah glances around, counting beds.

Sarah: "Ugh, I’m guessing Kiara is coming, seeing as there are four beds."

Y/N: Scolding, she replies "Sarah, please. Just be nice and cordial for me, okay? It’s my birthday trip."

Sarah: Rolls her eyes. "Fine, but if she comes for me, all bets are off."

Y/N sighs, shaking her head.

Y/N: "This is gonna be a long week."

The camera switches to JJ and John B., who are surveying the two rooms connected by a bathroom. One has a bunk bed and a single bed, and the other has two queen beds. They exchange looks.

John B.: "We should probably take this room so we can room with Pope."

JJ: "Right, but who are those other two beds in the other room for?"

John B. goes quiet for a moment, then sighs before answering.

John B.: "Sarah told me that Topper told her that him and Rafe are coming."

JJ’s eyes widen, and he immediately jumps off the bottom bunk with a start.

JJ: "What the—who the fuck invited them!?"

John B. immediately grabs JJ’s shoulder, manhandling him back onto the bed with a calm grip.

John B.: "Easy, man. We can’t get crazy."

JJ goes quiet, deep in thought. John B. watches him, concerned.

John B.: "You good?"

JJ looks up, his expression shifting from frustration to something more controlled.

JJ: "Yeah, I’ll be cool... as long as they’re cool."

John B.: "Okay, good. This is supposed to be a fun experience. Don’t let them ruin it."

John B. lies back on his single bed, closing his eyes in an attempt to relax. JJ stares at him for a moment, a devilish look on his face.

JJ: Leaning forward, he starts rummaging through his duffle bag. "And plus, I brought my backup."

John B. opens one eye, just in time to see JJ pull something from his bag. JJ holds it up with a triumphant grin.

JJ: "Aha!"

John B. immediately opens both eyes, his face dropping as he realizes what JJ’s holding. It’s a gun—his eyes widen in shock.

The camera focuses on John B.’s worried expression as he stares at the gun.

John B. (looking directly at the camera): Panicked, his voice shaky. "Uh, JJ, man, what the hell are you doing?"

The screen immediately cuts to static, followed by an error sound effect. The camera cuts to JJ, now walking into the confessional room, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

JJ (laughing): "Sorry, y’all, I didn’t read the contract before I signed it, and apparently, there are no weapons allowed [uses air quotes]—even BB guns."

Even the producers chuckle behind the camera.

JJ: "I’m on strike one already, and we’ve only been here for 40 minutes... so... yeah, it’s gonna be a long week."

The screen fades to black, teasing what’s to come next.

Scene: Topper and Rafe’s Arrival

The sound of an engine rumbles as Rafe’s F-150 cruises down the sunny streets of the Outer Banks. The truck gleams under the sun, a reflection of Rafe’s personality—flashy, over-the-top, and unapologetic. Topper rides shotgun, sunglasses on, leaning back casually. The coastal scenery whizzes past as the two make small talk.

Topper: "Man, I can’t believe we’re doing this. A whole week in that house with them."

Rafe: Smirking, eyes on the road. "Yeah, well, free booze and drama? I’m in. Plus, I’ve got a few... loose ends to tie up."

Topper: Chuckling. "Loose ends? More like bad decisions."

Rafe: Laughing darkly. "Touché. But you know me—I make things interesting."

Topper: Glancing at Rafe. "You do realize Sarah’s gonna be there, right? And John B?"

Rafe: His smirk widens into something more sinister. "Please. Like I’m scared of them. Besides, I’ve got better things to focus on."

The truck pulls up to the secluded mansion, the ocean shimmering in the background. Both men step out, their confident strides and designer clothes immediately setting them apart from the laid-back vibes of the Outer Banks. They exchange a look, smirking as they grab their bags and head toward the house. The front door swings open, and the energy shifts as they enter, their presence palpable.

Rafe’s Confessional

Rafe leans back in the confessional chair, an unlit cigarette dangling between his fingers. He smirks at the camera, exuding cocky arrogance.

Rafe: "Name’s Rafe Cameron. Twenty-four, born and bred Kook royalty. If you don’t know what a Kook is, let me educate you. We’re the elite, the ones who run this place. The Pogues? They’re the bottom-feeders. The ones who clean our boats and beg for scraps. It’s not a rivalry. It’s reality."

He pauses, his smirk turning colder.

Rafe: "My dad, Ward Cameron, recently passed. Rest in peace, Dad." He presses a hand to his chest mockingly, then lets it fall. "Left me a fortune, so, yeah, life’s looking pretty good for me. Oh, and as for this week? Let’s just say I hooked up with Y/N last week, but I’m keeping that little detail under wraps for now. Timing is everything."

He leans forward, staring into the camera with a look that’s both charming and unsettling.

Rafe: "This week’s gonna be fun—for me."

Topper’s Confessional

Topper sits in the confessional chair, his posture relaxed but his tone serious.

Topper: "Topper Thornton. Twenty-three. Born and raised in Figure Eight. Some people think I’m just a trust-fund kid who parties too much, but there’s more to me than that."

He adjusts his sunglasses, sighing.

Topper: "So, yeah, Sarah and I broke up six months ago. It was mutual, but honestly? I think it’s the break we both needed. That said..." He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I’m here to win her back. I know she’s with John B, but let’s be real—what they have isn’t serious. It’s a phase. She’ll come around. She always does."

He leans back, smirking faintly.

Topper: "This week’s about showing Sarah who she really belongs with. Me."

Back in the house, Rafe and Topper walk into the main living area, their presence impossible to ignore. Y/N and JJ are still joking by the staircase, while Sarah and John B stand off to the side, their conversation interrupted by the new arrivals. Everyone goes quiet as the tension in the room skyrockets.

Rafe: Grinning as he surveys the group. "Well, well, well. Looks like the gang’s all here."

The camera pans to Sarah, her jaw tightening as she glances at John B. Y/N’s eyes dart between Rafe and JJ, sensing the brewing storm. JJ’s posture stiffens, his eyes narrowing at Rafe, while Topper’s gaze zeroes in on Sarah, his confident smirk unshaken.

Topper: Casually, with a slight edge. "Hey, Sarah. Long time no see."

Sarah: Her voice tight, controlled. "Not long enough."

The tension is thick, the air charged with unspoken words and unresolved history. The camera lingers on the group, capturing the shifting dynamics and subtle glares before cutting to black.

Y/N’s Secret Gets Hinted At

Upstairs, Sarah closes the door to their shared bedroom and leans against it dramatically.

Sarah: "Okay, bestie, what’s up? Why are you dodging Rafe like he’s a pop quiz?"

Y/N: "What? I’m not dodging anyone."

She starts unpacking her bag, purposefully looking down to avoid Sarah’s gaze. Sarah raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

Sarah: "Girl. You’re giving off major 'I did something dumb' energy. Spill."

Y/N groans, dropping onto the bed.

Y/N: "It’s not even a thing, okay? It happened once, and it was a mistake."

Sarah gasps, eyes wide.

Sarah: "Wait... are you telling me you hooked up with my brother?"

Y/N quickly shushes her, frantically waving her hands.

Y/N: "Keep your voice down! Do you want them to hear?"

Sarah flops onto the bed beside her, looking both shocked and intrigued.

Sarah: "First of all, ew. Second of all, why didn’t you tell me?! Third—wait, no—why Rafe?!"

Y/N: "I don’t know, okay? It was tequila, bad decisions, and... I don’t know. He was just... there."

Sarah sits up, giving her a pointed look.

Sarah: "That man is like a walking red flag, Y/N. Does JJ know?"

Y/N: "No, and he’s not going to. It’s not like it meant anything."

Sarah squints at her like she doesn’t quite believe her but eventually sighs.

Sarah: "Alright, fine. Your secret’s safe with me. But if this blows up, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Y/N buries her face in her hands.

Y/N: "It’s my birthday. Can’t the universe give me a break?"

Kiara’s Arrival

Their conversation is cut short by the sound of a car door slamming. The camera cuts to Kiara stepping out of her car, her vibe effortlessly cool in an oversized hoodie, ripped jeans, and sneakers. She waves at the camera with a cheeky grin.

Kiara (Confessional): "Sup, I’m Kiara. I’m 22, full-time Pogue, part-time shit-stirrer. I’m here to celebrate Y/N, keep it chill, and maybe bring some chaos. 'Cause, let’s be real, what’s a trip without a little drama?"

Back at the house, Kiara pushes open the door and shouts:

Kiara: "Where’s the birthday girl?!"

Y/N and Sarah head downstairs. Y/N grins, running over to hug Kiara.

Y/N: "Kiara! Finally, someone I actually like."

Kiara: "Happy birthday, babe! Ready to make this week unforgettable?"

Kiara’s gaze shifts to Sarah, her smile turning into a tight-lipped smirk.

Kiara: "Sarah."

Sarah: "Kiara."

The air thickens as the two exchange icy nods. Y/N sighs, stepping between them.

Y/N: "Okay, can we not? It’s my birthday. Please just act like adults for one week?"

Kiara shrugs, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder.

Kiara: "Fine by me. As long as she doesn’t start anything, we’re good."

Sarah: "Trust me, I was about to say the same thing."

Y/N groans, muttering under her breath:

Y/N: "Y’all are exhausting."

The camera lingers on the tension as Kiara grabs her bag and heads upstairs to claim her bed. She passes by Rafe and Topper in the kitchen, pointedly ignoring Rafe’s cocky smirk. The scene ends with JJ watching everything from the corner, his fists clenched as the tension in the house continues to rise.

Pope and Cleo’s Arrival

The camera cuts to Pope and Cleo arriving in a sleek black SUV. Pope gets out first, adjusting his backpack with a confident but relaxed smile. Cleo follows, hopping out and glancing around curiously.

Pope (Confessional): "Hey, I’m Pope. I’m 21, and I’m here to keep the peace... or at least try to. I’m in college at USC on a full scholarship, which is where I met Cleo. She’s my ride-or-die. Bringing her along is kinda like introducing my family to my friends, so... we’ll see how that goes."

The camera shifts to Cleo, tossing her long braids over her shoulder and grinning mischievously.

Cleo (Confessional): "Hi, I’m Cleo. I’m 22, and this is my first time meeting Pope’s OBX crew. I’ve heard some wild stories, so I’m excited—and a little nervous—to see what the hype’s about. Oh, and yeah, I go to USC too. Go Trojans or whatever."

Inside the house, the group hears the door open, and Pope’s voice echoes:

Pope: "What’s up, OBX?!"

Y/N rushes to greet them, hugging Pope tightly before turning to Cleo.

Y/N: "Cleo! Finally, someone I’ve been dying to meet."

Cleo smiles, pulling Y/N into a warm hug.

Cleo: "Happy birthday, girl! Pope’s been hyping you up nonstop."

Pope grins, slinging an arm around Cleo.

Pope: "I only tell the truth."

JJ (from the kitchen): "Yo, Pope! About time. We were starting to think you bailed."

Pope: "Wouldn’t miss this for the world, man."

The Birthday Shot

The group gathers downstairs at the dining room island, where JJ has lined up tequila shots. Y/N stands in the middle, glowing as everyone crowds around her. JJ grabs his shot glass and clears his throat.

JJ: "Alright, alright, everyone shut up for a sec. This is for Y/N. The realest one I know, the only person who can put up with all of us, and... the birthday queen. Cheers to 21!"

The group cheers, lifting their glasses, but before anyone can drink, Rafe cuts in.

Rafe: "Wait, hold up. I gotta say something too."

Everyone groans, but Rafe smirks, holding his shot glass like he owns the place.

Rafe: "To Y/N. The baddest in the room. The only person who’s ever been able to handle me, and trust me, that’s no small feat. You deserve everything good in life, even if you make... interesting choices sometimes."

His gaze lingers on Y/N, a smirk playing on his lips. The group exchanges awkward glances, sensing the weight of his words. Before anyone can react, Kiara steps in.

Kiara: "To Y/N. The real MVP. The only reason I’m putting up with all these people. Here’s to a week of unforgettable memories, good energy, and no drama."

The group laughs and cheers louder this time, finally taking their shots. The camera pans across everyone’s faces, capturing the tension that still lingers despite the toast.

Y/N’s Confessional

Y/N (Confessional): "Yeah, so that toast? A little cringe. Rafe just loves to stir the pot, and I already know he’s gonna push someone’s buttons. I need to talk to him and make sure he’s on his best behavior because I swear if he starts something, it’s not gonna end well—for anyone."

The camera cuts back to the group as they finish their shots. Cleo nudges Pope, whispering something that makes him laugh. JJ eyes Rafe from across the room, his jaw clenched. Meanwhile, Sarah is scrolling on her phone, clearly trying to ignore Kiara’s presence. The tension is palpable, and the week is just getting started.

The next scene opens with the roommates lounging around the kitchen, debating what to barbeque for dinner. The countertops are scattered with an assortment of snacks, condiments, and grocery bags.

Pope leans on the island, surveying the options. "Alright, we’ve got burgers, chicken, hot dogs, and veggie burgers. What’s the move?"

"Veggie burgers, obviously," Kiara interjects with a raised eyebrow.

"I say wings," Sarah suggests, holding up a pack of chicken. "I’ll whip up a marinade."

"I got the grill," JJ announces, puffing out his chest. "It’s basically my calling."

"Yeah, right," Kiara snorts. "You’re banned after last summer. Remember? You almost burned my dad’s dock down."

"It was windy!" JJ shoots back, hands up in defense.

Rafe, leaning against the counter, smirks. "I’ll handle the bonfire. At least I know what I’m doing."

"Yeah, ‘cause playing with fire is your whole personality," JJ mutters, his voice low but cutting.

Before Rafe can respond, the kitchen door swings open, and the producer steps in, casually dressed but commanding attention with a loud clap. "Alright, everyone, can I get you to meet me in the living room? We’ve got a quick meeting."

The roommates exchange puzzled looks but shuffle into the living room, taking their spots on the oversized sectional. JJ quickly slides into the seat next to Y/N, throwing his arm casually over the back of the couch. Rafe, arriving a second too late, lingers behind them, his jaw tightening as he glares at JJ. The camera lingers on Rafe’s expression, emphasizing the tension.

The producer stands before them, clipboard in hand, his tone both cheerful and authoritative. "Okay, so here’s the deal. This week is all about bonding—getting to know each other in real life, without distractions."

"Distractions?" Y/N tilts her head, already suspicious.

The producer smirks. "Yup. That means we’ll be taking your phones for the week."

A chorus of groans ripples through the group.

"You can’t be serious," Sarah complains. "What am I supposed to do without my socials?"

"It’s for the experience," the producer explains. "No texts, no calls, no social media. Just you, your roommates, and the art of conversation."

JJ slouches dramatically, crossing his arms. "This feels illegal."

"You’ll live," Pope quips, shooting JJ a teasing grin. "Just pretend it’s the '90s."

Kiara rolls her eyes. "Or the 1890s. Back when people had actual survival skills."

"Yeah, great sales pitch," Rafe deadpans, crossing his arms behind Y/N and JJ.

The producer chuckles. "Trust me, it’ll be worth it. You’ll get your phones back at the end of the week. For now, just focus on each other. Deal?"

Y/N sighs theatrically. "Fine, but if I miss an important text, it’s on you."

"Noted," the producer says with a smile. "Alright, everyone, hand them over."

One by one, the roommates reluctantly deposit their phones into a box held by the producer. The mood is a mix of resignation and apprehension.

As the producer exits, the camera lingers on the group’s awkward silence. JJ taps Y/N’s shoulder playfully, breaking the tension. "Alright, so... who’s ready to bond without Twitter?"

Rafe’s sharp gaze on the two of them doesn’t go unnoticed as the screen cuts to black.

As the group gathers around the grill, a warm glow from the setting sun reflects off the ocean, casting a serene atmosphere over the beach. The bonfire is set up in the distance, ready for the night ahead. The sound of sizzling meat on the grill fills the air as everyone chips in to help with the cooking.

JJ is the first to take charge, tossing some burgers on the grill with exaggerated flair. "Whoever says you can’t cook a decent meal on a beach is seriously underestimating the power of my grilling skills," he declares with a grin.

Sarah, handing over a platter of veggies, raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that, JJ? You nearly set the kitchen on fire last week."

Y/N chuckles, tossing a bottle of ketchup at him. "If I end up with a burnt burger, I’m blaming you."

JJ catches it effortlessly and winks. "Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. You’re gonna love it."

Meanwhile, Cleo is in charge of setting up the drinks by the bonfire. "Who’s in for a drink? I’ve got the good stuff!" she calls out, her voice full of mischief. "But remember, it’s a limited supply."

Kiara, having a blast as she passes a bowl of chips to Pope, leans over. "Do you think the producer’s gonna try and turn us into a drama show with all this phone confiscation nonsense?"

Pope shakes his head, laughing. "If they do, they’re in for a surprise. None of us are easy to manipulate."

Rafe, though quieter, catches Pope’s comment with a smirk, the glint in his eyes giving away his amusement. He cracks a beer open, eyeing the group as if evaluating the situation. "I think this whole thing’s gonna get real interesting," he mutters, almost to himself.

nside the small, dimly lit confessional room, John B sits in front of the camera, a relaxed grin spreading across his face as he leans back slightly in the chair. The soft hum of the room’s air conditioning is the only sound for a moment, before he starts speaking to the camera, his voice light but sincere.

"Alright, so... it’s been a bit of a weird start, not gonna lie," he begins, running a hand through his hair. "Phones? Gone. But honestly? It's kinda been a blessing in disguise. Everyone’s tipsy, everyone’s laughing, and the vibes are... good, you know? Like, there’s definitely some tension, but right now? Everyone’s chilling, having a good time. It’s like we’ve already forgotten why we were even bothered in the first place."

He pauses for a second, smiling to himself. "I just hope this keeps up, honestly. I mean, we’re all stuck here for a week together, and if we can keep this... positive energy going, maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all. But, who knows? In reality TV, things can change on a dime." He shrugs, giving the camera a playful smirk. "Fingers crossed it stays this way."

John B leans forward, his grin widening. "Anyway, I’m here for the good times, and right now, we’re definitely having those. Let’s just hope that lasts." He winks at the camera, and the screen cuts back to the group enjoying themselves around the bonfire, the sound of laughter carrying over the breeze.

Back by the grill, the laughter continues as Sarah expertly flips a couple of burgers, teasing JJ. "See, I told you I could do this better than you."

"Okay, okay, but only because I’m distracted by someone," JJ responds, glancing at Y/N with a playful wink.

Y/N rolls their eyes, not able to hide their smile. "Sure, blame it on me. You’ll be the one running for seconds once they’re done."

The group continues to laugh and joke around as they serve up the food, the mood lightening with every passing minute. As they gather around the bonfire, drinks in hand, the initial tension begins to dissolve. They all settle into the warmth of the fire and the flickering light, realizing that this trip might not be so bad after all.

John B glances around at the group, nodding to himself. "Yeah, this could be the start of something... interesting."

And as the camera pulls back, the sounds of laughter and lighthearted banter echo across the beach, the night just beginning.

Just as the laughter dies down, Topper stands up from where he’d been lounging on a nearby log, holding up a bottle in one hand. He flashes a mischievous grin.

"Alright, alright, enough with the Pope stories," he says, his voice carrying a playful tone. "How about we spice things up a little with a game? Truth or drink, anyone?"

The group exchanges amused glances, intrigued by the suggestion.

Rafe chuckles, leaning forward. "Now we’re talking. This is how you get to know people."

Kiara, already sipping from her drink, raises an eyebrow. "Oh, this is gonna get interesting."

"Alright," Topper continues, settling back into his seat with the bottle. "I’ll start. Y/N, truth or drink?"

Y/N looks around the group for a moment before deciding, "I’ll go with truth."

Topper’s grin widens. "Alright, spill. Which roommates have you kissed?"

The group falls silent for a second, the tension hanging in the air as all eyes turn to Y/N, who takes a slow sip from their drink. They set the glass down, not missing a beat.

"Well," Y/N begins, a teasing glint in their eyes, "I’ve kissed all the boys at some point... except for you, Topper."

A collective laugh erupts from the group, some people shaking their heads in disbelief, others just enjoying the unexpected honesty. JJ raises his glass with a playful grin. "Guess I’m the favorite," he says, leaning back confidently.

Topper shrugs, clearly amused. "Alright, I’ll take that as a compliment. But now it’s your turn, JJ."

The playful mood shifts slightly as Rafe suddenly leans in, an eyebrow arched, his tone a bit more pointed. "So, JJ," he starts, eyes locking onto him, "who was that one girl you hooked up with last month? You know, the one you’ve been dodging talking about."

The air grows a little colder, the group sensing the shift. JJ’s smile falters for just a second, his eyes flicking toward the bottle of liquor.

He takes a deep breath, then grabs the bottle and pours himself a drink, not saying a word. His eyes briefly meet Rafe’s, but instead of responding, he tips the bottle back, taking a long swig.

The room falls into an awkward silence for a moment, the tension between the two palpable. Finally, JJ slams the bottle down on the ground with a lighthearted chuckle. "Alright, moving on," he says, clearly avoiding the question. "Who’s next?"

The group hesitates for just a moment before the tension begins to dissolve. Kiara nudges Pope, forcing a smile. "Okay, Pope, truth or drink?"

The camera lingers on the group, their laughter hesitant but building once more as the game continues, the vibes slowly lightening again, despite the brief awkwardness that lingers in the air.

The scene opens with the group gathered around the bonfire, now buzzing with activity as they begin the task of cleaning up after dinner. Plates clink together, and the smell of grilled food still lingers in the air as everyone works together, washing dishes and tidying up the space. There's a lighthearted mood—until Topper, wiping his hands on a dish towel, casually leans back and says something that cuts through the buzz of conversation like a knife.

"You know," Topper says, his voice a bit too loud for the moment, "Sarah and I used to do this all the time. You know, go on trips like this. Good times."

John B freezes for a split second, his hand tightening around the dish he’s drying, his jaw clenching visibly. The smile on his face falters, replaced by a tight-lipped grimace as his eyes flick toward Sarah. He says nothing, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Sarah, still focused on drying a glass, suddenly goes rigid, her face hardening. She doesn’t even look at Topper when she snaps, "Topper, shut up."

The words hang in the air, cutting the moment short. The group falls silent for a heartbeat before the sound of dishes clattering resumes, but the mood has shifted. The easy camaraderie is replaced with an uncomfortable energy, a quiet discomfort that seems to settle over everyone.

As the group begins to move on with the task, Rafe sees an opportunity to stir the pot further. Watching the tension play out, he casually gets up from the table, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He looks toward Y/N, who’s distracted by the cake preparations. Slowly, he approaches them, his voice smooth as he addresses them in a low, almost conspiratorial tone.

"Hey," Rafe starts, leaning slightly toward Y/N. "You seemed a lot happier last week when it was just... us." His eyes flicker knowingly, leaving the implication in the air without outright saying it. "It’s kinda funny how things change, huh?"

Y/N, caught off guard by his insinuation, stiffens for a moment, but quickly recovers. They force a smile, unsure of how to respond. "What’s your point, Rafe?"

Rafe shrugs casually, his smile remaining almost too sweet. "Just making an observation. You looked like you were having a good time back then. I wonder what changed."

The weight of his words hangs over Y/N as they try to ignore the growing unease bubbling inside. The tension between the group is palpable now, and Rafe’s subtle mind games are only adding fuel to the fire.

The camera captures the way Y/N’s gaze darts around the group, noticing the lingering discomfort, especially between John B and Sarah. They feel the weight of the situation bearing down on them, and despite the surprise birthday cake still in the works, it’s clear that this vacation has become anything but relaxing.

As the group gathers around the table to set up the cake, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension, leaving everyone wondering just how much longer the fragile peace will hold.

The scene cuts to the afterglow of the birthday celebration. The group is gathered around the bonfire, the flickering flames illuminating their faces as they finish singing "Happy Birthday" to Y/N. Laughter fills the air as Y/N blows out the candle on the cake, the group cheering and clapping. But despite the cheerful atmosphere, Y/N feels a sudden urge to step away, to get a moment of peace.

She makes her way inside the house, finding the hallway empty, the sounds of the party fading into the distance. Leaning against the wall just a few feet away is Rafe, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. Y/N stops in front of him, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of the party.

Rafe pushes off from the wall, standing so close to Y/N that she can smell his cologne—deep and musky, with a faint hint of something else that makes her heart race just a little faster. His presence is magnetic, and for a split second, it’s easy to fall back into their old rhythm.

"You look good tonight," Rafe says with a smile, his tone smooth, almost too casual. He steps a little closer, his breath almost brushing against Y/N’s skin. "It’s funny, you know? I never forget how easy it is to fall back into this." He gestures vaguely between them, the unspoken history hanging heavy in the air.

Y/N glances at him, her heartbeat picking up speed, but she’s careful not to let it show. She crosses her arms over her chest, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips. "I’m not doing this with you, Rafe," she says quietly but firmly. "I don’t want any drama."

Rafe’s smile falters just for a moment, but he quickly masks it with a shrug. "Drama?" he repeats, almost mockingly. "Come on, we both know what we’ve had before. It’s nothing but fun, right?" His gaze never leaves Y/N, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that only adds to the tension. "I was just saying, I’ve missed this—us."

Y/N swallows, resisting the pull of his gaze. "I really like JJ," she says, her voice softer, almost apologetic, but steady. "I’m not going down that road again with you."

Rafe doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening just the slightest bit. The words sting more than he lets on, but he keeps his cool, a forced smile creeping onto his face. "JJ, huh?" he says, the hint of sarcasm in his voice, though the bitterness remains hidden. "Well, I guess you’ve got your type."

There’s a flicker in Rafe’s eyes, something dark and possessive, but it disappears just as quickly as it appears. He tilts his head, his voice lower now, teasing. "It’s not like it ever stopped being easy between us. You sure you want to play it that way?"

Y/N stands her ground, feeling the weight of the unspoken things between them. "I’m not playing games with you, Rafe," she replies, voice firm but with a quiet undercurrent of frustration.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air is thick with tension, the past between them lingering, but neither one willing to push too far. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Rafe lets out a breath, his expression unreadable.

He steps forward, closing the small gap between them, and pulls Y/N into a hug, brief but tight. It’s almost too easy to fall back into this—into the familiarity of his touch, the weight of his body pressing against hers. Y/N hesitates for a moment before returning the hug, her arms encircling his waist, though it feels almost instinctive, like it’s something they’ve done a thousand times before.

Rafe pulls away slightly, looking down at her with a faint, almost sad smile. "You’re not gonna tell him, are you?" he asks, his voice low and casual, but with an underlying question that hangs between them.

Y/N just shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak. She can feel the tension building again, the space between them filled with a thousand things left unsaid.

"Guess we’ll just have to leave it at that," Rafe murmurs, his voice quiet, eyes lingering on Y/N a moment longer before he steps back. His expression is unreadable, but the distance between them feels heavier now, like something is shifting, something irreversible.

With a final look, Rafe turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing in the hallway, her thoughts swirling. The hug lingers in her mind, the heat of Rafe’s presence still pressing against her skin, and she realizes that while the conversation is over, the complexity of her feelings is far from simple.

The camera lingers on Y/N as she stands in the hallway, her thoughts still heavy after the conversation with Rafe. A moment later, Rafe walks past her, heading back to the kitchen with a purposeful stride. He doesn’t look back, but the smirk on his face suggests something is brewing, and Y/N can’t shake the feeling that something's off.

Inside the kitchen, the group is still buzzing with energy, the sounds of laughter and playful banter drifting through the house. Meanwhile, Rafe pulls Topper aside, his voice low but urgent.

"Hey," Rafe starts, his gaze scanning the room quickly before he locks eyes with Topper. "I’ve got something that’ll make the night a little more interesting. You in?"

Topper, looking intrigued but cautious, raises an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Without another word, Rafe motions for Topper to follow him, and they slip out of the kitchen, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom. The sounds of the group in the next room grow fainter as the camera follows them, the atmosphere in the house shifting as they enter the bathroom.

As the door clicks shut behind them, the camera’s angle shifts slightly, picking up the faint sound of sniffing through their mics—enough to hint at what’s really going on inside. The camera lingers on the bathroom door for a few seconds, allowing the tension to build before cutting back to the rest of the group.

Meanwhile, the roommates in the living room are oblivious to the shift in energy as they continue playing a lively game of Uno. Everyone is laughing, teasing one another, and the playful arguments escalate over who’s cheating and who’s got the best hand. JJ is animated, gesturing wildly at Cleo as she steals another card, while Kiara gives Pope a look of mock suspicion, accusing him of stacking the deck.

The room feels light and carefree, but then the door creaks open, and Rafe and Topper return, both of them noticeably jittery, their energy somehow more frantic. The camera catches Rafe’s eyes darting around the room, his smile a little too wide, while Topper shifts uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Y/N, sitting across from them, catches the odd behavior almost immediately. She narrows her eyes, side-eyeing the pair as they try to blend back in with the group. Something about their sudden restlessness doesn’t sit right with her.

"Everything okay with you two?" Y/N asks, her voice casual, but there's an edge to it. She watches them both closely, her intuition already on high alert.

Rafe’s smile falters for a fraction of a second before he grins again, but it’s a bit too forced. "Yeah, just a little… bathroom break. You know how it is," he says, his words coming out too quickly, and Topper nods in agreement, though he looks less convinced.

Y/N doesn’t buy it. Her gaze flickers between them, but she says nothing more, instead focusing on the game at hand. Still, the unease she feels lingers in the back of her mind, and she can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted in the atmosphere, something no one else has noticed.

The group resumes their game, but the tension is palpable, the playful mood slightly dimmed as Y/N glances from one of them to the other, trying to ignore the growing suspicion gnawing at her.

The evening grows late, and the atmosphere is electric with tension and laughter as the group continues to play games. Music plays softly in the background, but there’s a palpable shift in energy. Everyone seems to be loosening up, the drinks flowing freely, but Y/N can feel the weight of the subtle animosity building between Rafe and JJ.

At one point, JJ, clearly trying to lighten the mood, hands Y/N a drink, flashing her a smile that feels a little too friendly.

"Here you go," JJ says, holding the drink out to her with a playful grin.

Y/N reaches out to take it, but before she can, Rafe steps in, leaning casually against the arm of the couch and holding up a drink of his own. "Actually," he says, voice dripping with smugness, "I made this one. It’s better."

Y/N hesitates, glancing between Rafe’s drink and the one in her hand. JJ’s eyes narrow as he steps forward, his tone sharp. "Oh yeah, definitely trust a drink from this guy," he sneers, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.

Rafe smirks, never one to back down from a challenge. "Jealous much?" he taunts, his voice smooth and mocking, the edge of competition clear in his words.

The group falls silent for a moment, the tension palpable. Y/N can feel the heat rising between them, and before she can even respond, JJ throws a quick, biting remark. "You’ve always been a joke, Rafe."

Rafe’s smirk falters, the jabs hitting harder than expected, and before anyone can intervene, the argument escalates. JJ steps forward aggressively, his face reddening with frustration. "You think you’re so much better than everyone else," he spits out, his voice low and dangerous. "You don’t even belong here."

"You don’t even know what I’m capable of," Rafe retorts, his eyes flashing with anger.

Without warning, JJ’s fist flies through the air, connecting with Rafe’s jaw in a brutal punch that echoes through the room. The impact sends Rafe stumbling back, but he doesn’t fall. His bloodied lip splits open, a trickle of red staining his chin. The room erupts into chaos, everyone scrambling to intervene as the physical fight between the two men intensifies.

Y/N watches in shock as Rafe wipes the blood from his lip with a slow, almost amused expression. The fight spirals out of control, but Y/N steps forward, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Stop it, both of you!" she demands, her tone harsh as she locks eyes with Rafe.

The camera focuses on Rafe’s face, his bloodied expression somehow matching the twisted, dark smile creeping across his lips. He looks at Y/N, his voice low and mocking. "Really? You’re disgusted by me, but you came twice." His words cut deep, and the room goes silent, everyone holding their breath as the weight of what he just said hangs in the air.

Y/N’s face flushes with anger, her eyes flashing with pure disgust. "You sicken me," she spits out, her voice trembling with fury.

JJ, enraged by the comment, charges at Rafe again, but Pope and Kiara are quick to grab hold of him, holding him back with all their strength. JJ struggles, fighting against their grip, but Pope and Kiara are firm, keeping him from lunging at Rafe once more.

Rafe stands there, his bloody face a picture of sick satisfaction as he watches JJ struggle to break free. His smile widens, a cruel, almost victorious look in his eyes as he surveys the chaos he’s caused.

The camera zooms in on Rafe’s face, bloodied and twisted with that unsettling grin, while Y/N watches him, still seething, her hands shaking with the anger she can’t quite release. The fight, though momentarily halted, lingers in the air, the tension so thick that it’s impossible to ignore.

The group remains frozen, the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them all as the night feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something far darker.

Next time on OBX: After Dark...

The screen fades in from black, showing a quick montage of the tense aftermath from the night before. Each roommate speaks in their own confessional, offering their thoughts on the explosive events.

JJ’s Confessional: "Man, things got way too heated last night. Rafe’s just... a walking headache, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep my cool with him around."

Kiara’s Confessional: "Honestly, I’ve never seen the group like that. I thought we were here to have fun, but now it feels like a ticking time bomb."

Pope’s Confessional: "It’s getting out of hand. We’ve gotta stop this before someone gets seriously hurt. I mean, JJ throwing a punch—what’s next?"

Cleo’s Confessional: "I hate that I’m caught in the middle of this mess. I just wanted a good time... but I don’t think anyone’s having fun anymore."

Sarah’s Confessional: "Rafe and JJ… that was wild. But if I’m being honest, I’m kind of over the whole drama. Maybe I should’ve never let it go this far."

Topper’s Confessional: "Yeah, last night was intense. But honestly? It’s just gonna get worse from here. I’m not here to play nice anymore."

Rafe’s Confessional: "Everyone thinks they can control the situation. But I’ll tell you one thing—nobody gets to call the shots but me. This is just the beginning."

The screen flashes forward to the next day, showing Topper and Rafe exchanging sly grins as they invite a group of girls into the house. The camera zooms in on the shocked faces of the other roommates as they watch from the kitchen, their anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Y/N’s Confessional: "Topper and Rafe really think they can just bring people here like that? It’s like they don’t even care how the rest of us feel."

John B’s Confessional: "This isn’t a frat party. What are they trying to prove? We don’t need more chaos."

The screen cuts to Kiara and Sarah in the middle of an intense argument, their voices raised.

Kiara (yelling): "What, that you're a liar?"

Sarah (snapping back): "No, that you’re a shit-talking bitch!"

The room goes silent for a moment, followed by an exaggerated "Oooh!" from the rest of the group. The other roommates exchange shocked glances, their eyes wide at the sudden escalation.

Pope (whispering to Cleo): "Did that just happen?"

Cleo (eyes wide): "I think we’re about to see a whole new level of chaos."

The camera zooms in on Kiara and Sarah, both standing with fury in their eyes as the tension builds. The other roommates exchange nervous glances, unsure of how this argument will play out.

Coming up... The screen cuts to black as the voiceover echoes with suspense.

"Who will be pushed to their breaking point? And will the tension finally explode?"

taglist: @mymadokamagica @izurelia @davinashifts333 @hello-therree @cyberkitty1

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

So, @secriden I promised I would come home and give my thoughts on your thoughts, so here we go.

Style not knowing would have changed how quickly his emotions changed for him, because him knowing and feeling bad about tricking him and him running out of time with Fadel definitely contributed to him being in a hurry and trying to get Fadel to tell him the truth, but I still think the emotional vulnerability would have still happened, because he did see him at that grief support group, and then the subsequent confrontation with Fadel told him that Fadel is closed off for a reason and that Style has beaten down his walls and he hates it, but he can't stop missing him. I think Style, even not knowing he is a hitman, would have respected him a little bit more after that and would have tried to get to know him because he was happy about him being his boyfriend. it wasn't about the car anymore at that point. It may have taken longer, but he would have opened up about his mom and Fadel would have opened up about his parents and Style would have whiddled him down trying to figure out why he was so closed off at first. He probably would have pushed more about the ever been in love conversation because he wouldn't have been worried about pushing his buttons.

You were also right about how Style not knowing would have affected him during the week time skip, because Fadel shut off his phone, so Style would have spent that whole time wondering where the hell he was and if he has been ghosted or left. Like he would be legit upset, unless he believed Fadel when he said he had to help out a friend, but seeing as how Style is apparently a bit jealous, he would probably assume he was being dumped. Now, if he went to Kant about this, Kant could either come clean, or he could just continue his with the BS lie, and tell Style that it's fine or if they left them, then good riddance.

So, Fadel coming back would make him both happy and angry and then if Fadel starts acting suspicious of him, he'll be like..whoa whoa whoa, sir. you're the one that left me high and dry and worried, not me. Shouldn't I be the one angry here??? Because he has no idea Fadel thinks his a snitch or that he's even a hitman. I can also see Fadel becoming more and more conflicted because Style just....isn't acting like he knows Fadel is a hitman lmao He'd even do scary shit and Style would just get turned on by it and they'd end up fucking and Fadel would go back to Bison like...are you sure he knows??? Because I held a knife to his throat and instead of acting scared he asked if I would use it in the bedroom??? How did you determine that he was a snitch???

And Bison has to admit that he doesn't actually know? Sorry, bro, I just assumed that because Kant chose him to help us trick you that he had to involved in the whole thing...and then they will fight because what the fuck do you mean you and Kant got him to trick me into dating him!!!???

so then he goes and confronts Style later about that little tidbit, which Style immediately admits too, but insists that his feelings were real so Fadel decides to just bite the bullet and ask him if he's working for the police...and Style is like ????the police???? why the hell would I be working for the police??? and he's like...so you and Kant aren't spying on us? and again Style is like ???why would I be spying on you??? I just wanted to help my friend get in your brothers pants, which i guess is kind of fucked up and all, but like....why would I spy on you guys??? And then Fadel has to come to terms with the fact that Style didn't know and that Kant sent him into this completely blind and he's grateful that he didn't kill him right off the bat.

Have you thought about how it would go if Kant didn't tell Style that Fadel was a hitman? Style would still be hiding something from Fadel and maybe he's thrown off how forward Fadel is now that they're dating but he'd regroup and lean into it and would totally be down for a double date with his BFF and if Kant is making a special night for Bison why can't Style do the same for Fadel and then Fadel disappears for a week and Kant is a sad moo who isn't helpful and then Fadel is back and Style is so happy but Fadel gets that call from Bison but Style has no idea.

So I have actually thought about this scenario a lot. It would have been even more fucked up for Style, because he would be even more oblivious and innocent than he is in canon. Because yeah, he started to follow Fadel around for a car (and then for the principle because he got intrigued by the chase) but that is nothing compared to knowing the truth of them being hitmen.

Now, him still being unaware would have changed things a bit. He wouldn't have acted weird or suspicious immediately after Fadel agreed to date him. He would have fully embraced it. Did you see the way he was grabbing Fadel's face at the end of episode 4 when he agreed to be his boyfriend??? Style was so fucking happy about winning him over. That was genuine joy. And if Style has anything going for him, it's that he can't hide his feelings for shit. When he is happy, he lights up and bounces around.

So he would have never acted strangely and Fadel wouldn't have had that moment of WTF is going on here? I think he still would have been hesitant to trust Style, but I don't think any red flags would have been raised like they were in canon. Fadel really took a second to try to figure out why his newly acquired boyfriend would suddenly not want to be touched by him or why he was running away. Without that interaction, Fadel wouldn't have had that thought.

Style still would have gone on the double date because he is still actively talking to Kant. Kant just isn't telling him the truth. Style would have noticed Kant being a little off, but he would be way too obsessed with Fadel and seeing him and getting laid to wonder too much about what is going on with Kant. He'd just go a long with Kant asking him to take Fadel back home because at that point it wouldn't be a strange thing to ask. He'd probably just assume he wanted to do something with Bison, even after the fake out with Babe. He probably would have been like..ok Kant has it handled. You still wanna bang? And of course Fadel would be like...yes. because those two are compatible and kinky AF and would be fucking like rabbits, (i mean honestly. I don't know how Fadel gets anything done anymore with Style trying to touch his titties every five minutes lol)

Now, him not knowing may change some of their conversations, but probably not as much as you'd think. Before he knew the truth, he was already wondering about what Fadel was hiding. He's seen him kick three men's asses without breaking a sweat and has seen that he goes to grief support group regularly, so Style is aware that Fadel is hiding a lot of things and Style is a curious person. He would have 100% still tried to figure him out and find out what his deal was. I think they'd still talk about their parents and have the trust conversation. It just might not have as much layered meaning because Style actually doesn't know, but he WANTS to. He wants to know Fadel.

What would that mean for Fadel thinking he is a snitch later? Well, it would hurt a lot more. Because if Fadel reacts the same way as he did at the end of episode 6...and then slowly tries to find out what he's been lying about, he's not going to come up with a lot because Style wouldn't be lying. he would have no clue that he was being suspected of anything. He'd be totally clueless as to why his boyfriend is acting strange.

Fadel would also probably get frustrated at that because Style wouldn't act like a snitch would act. (He acts strange a few times in canon and Fadel would definitely be looking back on those moments with suspicion after the fact) So, if a confrontation happens, whether violent or not, Style would end up feeling more betrayed than Fadel. and Fadel would come face to face with the fact that Style literally didn't know a damn thing and he's spent all this time treating him with suspicion and anger and maybe even trying to punish him for hurting Fadel, when his feelings were genuine. I think Fadel would then redirect all the anger and frustration he feels at Kant for NOT telling Style who he was and tricking him into this whole thing because Fadel could have killed Style and it would have been the wrong thing to do because he was oblivious the whole time.

It would have definitely been interesting to see that all play out. I think it would have shown even more true concern from Style towards Fadel, and more confusion for Fadel when he'd try to catch him in lies and come up empty.

[moe-broey]

HELP maybe this is influenced by how I'm writing this, or maybe it was supposed to be gleaned from canon and I just. Haven't fully thought about it til now. Haven't Deeply analyzed it beyond the blaring alarm bells that go off when reading this. But. Alfonse's,

Straight into.

This isn't him doubling down. This is him BACKTRACKING. This is him going, "oh fuck I think maybe I came on a little too strong maybe I was a bit too vulnerable and that's really scary. How do I fix this" and he's running through all the dialogue options in his head like Okay. Play it Cool. Keep it Casual. Proclaim your undying loyalty and devotion to your Trusted Partner (person he just told in the beginning of this conversation that he didn't intend to become friends with) by making yourself a blade and shield for them. NAILED IT 👍

[hsslilly-blog]

hollywood u never specified what addison’s mother is sick with, or if it’s terminal; just that she’s really sick, right? rather, that she has been really sick (for a while). personally, i’ve always read it as if it were terminal. lmao not surprising. anyway you know what that means *hits her with dead parent beam*

[abstractlesbian]

Find someone slightly annoying but in really small harmless ways so I decide none of the behaviours are worth bringing up with them → realizing: hey, Im also annoying! solidarity! → realizing we have a lot in common and starting to bond → finding out other people find this person annoying and are vocal about it behind their back → finding out this person has ADHD like me that's (at least one reason) why we have all these traits in common → fear.

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀“WHAT?! SEX BAN?!”

﹅ contains ;; gojo satoru , kento nanami , choso kamo , toji fushiguro , ryomen sukuna , geto suguru

﹅ alt title ;; how long the jjk men can withstand the sex ban

﹅ warnings ;; sorta sub!choso , whiny!choso , toji's part is more explicit than the others , this is my first time writing for some of the character so i'm sorry if i didn't describe them well

GOJO SATORU (3 days)

��are you serious?” gojo groans, slumping forwards. gojo watched in disappointment as you crossed your arms, looking away from him. "you did it so you have to pay." for weeks, you've been trying to tell gojo to separate the colors from the whites while doing laundry. him just wanting to get it over with, he dumped them all in the same load, ruining some of your favorite pieces of clothing.

"baby, please. i won't do it again," he begs, kneeling in front of you. but to no avail, you stood your ground.

it only took him 3 days to convince you to wave your white flag, surrendering to his seduction. "you look good in my shirts." gojo's hands caress your hips as he presses his chest to your back. "i would be in my clothes if you would just listen to me." you huff, "i never said i was disappointed." gojo whispered, his hard-on pressing on your ass.

“please. just drop the ‘sex ban’. i said i was sorry.” his lips make a trail of kisses on your neck. you needed him too. whenever he wasn’t around, you would use your toys, trying to not let gojo know you were sexually needy. but they didn’t work.

RYOMEN SUKUNA (not happening!)

no. just no. it’s funny that you even thought about putting that in motion. sukuna was too desperate for sex but never wanted to admit it.

“no,” he stood above, crossing his arms, making himself seem bigger than you (as if he even needed to do that). “you can’t deprive me of sex, woman.” he grunts. “but i can, kuna. that’s what you fail to realize.” you tut, standing up to walk away.

one of his four arms wraps around your waist, throwing you back on the soft surface. "you're not going through with this." he growls in your ear, crawling go top of you.

how dare you even think such a thing? you were his woman, his twin flame. you were the only person he showed the littlest respect to and you decide to do some foolery like this.

he tugs your shirt over your head, your bra coming next. his rough hands slide over your chest. "such beauty..." he whispers. "i'll make sure you never think of this again.

KENTO NANAMI (it was on accident)

his job was taking him away from you. between being a jujutsu sorcerer and a businessman, he couldn't find time to be a partner for you.

due to the lack of attention you were receiving, you became sexually pent up, having the urge to pleasure yourself at the worst times. the feeling of neglect was creeping up on you. some days, you forgot nanami even lived with you.

"love, i'm home." nanami tugs off his tie, tossing it to the side. "i don't know how long i can take of this." he rubs his temples, deeply sighing as he led himself to your shared bedroom. before his hand touched the cold metal knob, he heard your muffled moans and the squelching of your cunt.

he slowly opens the door, peeking in the room before fully entering. "it seems i've neglected you." he watches as you quickly cover yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked many times. he unbuttons the top of his shirt as he saunters to the edge of the bed, removing the covers off you.

"seems like i have some things to make up for."

CHOSO KAMO (not even a day)

"please." he whines, his head resting on your lap as he looks up at you. ever since you shared your first time with choso, he's been going at it with you like rabid dogs. if he wasn't inside you, his head was squished in between his thighs.

"choso, i need a break." you sigh, trying to remove him from off you. his grip on your legs was tight as he put his face in between your thighs, shaking his head. he was acting like he couldn't survive without your cunt somehow being involved.

"i swear, i'll leave you alone after. just please," he whined. you couldn't resist him for much longer. you hated when he got all whiny like a baby. he was spoiled because of you.

"fine." you undo the tie of your sweatpants before his hands swatted yours away, tugging your pants and panties off. "i promised you." he kisses your inner thigh before his tongue began flicking away.

TOJI FUSHIGURO (mans was balls deep in you the second you said it)

"you really think so?" he darkly chuckles, rubbing himself on you. "toji, i'm sorry. please." you whine, wiggling your ass on his cock. "i don't think you are." he teases, stepping away from you.

you whine, following him. "it was a joke." you press your hand on his chest. "did i laugh?" he tilts his head, smirking at you. you sigh, "toji, i'm sorry." you press yourself against him, your chest touching his.

"fuck." you knew he couldn't resist the feeling of your chest on him. it was like heaven to him. "turn around." he grunts, gripping your hips to turn you around, bending you over.

he easily slid inside of you due to how wet you got over time. "don't say stuff you don't mean, baby." he laughs, thrusting into your backside. it was worth it.

GETO SUGURU (you gave in after implementing it)

you wanted to test geto's limits, giving him an extra nnn moment which made you realize something. it was always you initiating sex. "geto, please. i give up." you whine, following him around the house.

he chuckles, "everyone must deal with their consequences, my love." he turns to you. he plastered a sinister smile, taunting you. he saw how much you needed him but he wasn't caving in until he heard you say it.

"i'll do anything. my hand isn't even working anymore." you simper. it was starting to become frustrating seeing how calm he was about all of this as you were suffering.

"i need you! is that what you wanted to hear?" you shout, earning a grin from him. he walks closer to you, his finger tracing your jawline, "why didn't you say that sooner, love?" he chuckles.

[shawtuzi]

thinking about choso and the succubus that just won’t leave him alone :((

“p-please i can’t take any—hah! a-anymore,” choso sobbed, his fingernails digging roughly into the fat of your hips. you’ve been riding him for the past hour and a half and he was sure by this point he was shooting blanks. you’ve pulled four orgasms out of him and frighteningly enough you were showing no signs of stopping.

“i’m not done yet though cho,” you giggled, leaning down to press your lips against his. choso whimpered when your tongue, that was slightly longer than the average humans, slipped into his mouth. you could tell help but smile into the kiss when you felt him get harder inside of you.

choso’s eyes rolled into the back of his head when your tongue swirled around his, his mouth opening wider to give you more access. ‘what a slut’ he heard your voice echo in his head, arousal building up in his tummy. you abruptly pulled away from the kiss, a line of spit connecting your mouths.

“o-oh!” choso’s abs clenched when you lifted off of his cock, a loud squelching sound following. “pretty…y-you’re so pretty,” his voice was shaky as he praised you, tears of awe and overstimulation brimming his eyes. you didn’t say anything, instead you kissed your way down his chest, stopping when you reached his pelvic area.

choso heard your voice in his head once more, nodding at your question. ‘you want it?’ you had asked, the seduction in your voice as tempting as ever. choso’s back arched off the bed when he felt your tongue slither around the base of his dick. now this was new for him.

your tongue was able to wrap around almost every inch of him, massaging his most sensitive parts. you the felt the veins on the underside throb rapidly against your tongue, he was already so so close.

“s-stop—wait, w-wait no keep going, no n-no wait stoppp,” choso sobbed, tears now steaming down his reddened cheeks. he gasped finally at the loss of contact, his chest heaving rapidly. “w-why’d you stop?” he whimpered, his bottom lip pushing into a pout as if he wasn’t just begging and crying you to stop :((

choso jumped slightly when your wings expanded, shielding both of you from the light of his bedside lamp. “from this point forward i wan’ you to keep those pretty lips shut, got it?” he heard your honey smooth voice say firmly. choso nodded quickly, “yes, y-yes i’m sorry. no more talking i promise.” such an obedient lil thing.

choso’s mouth dropped open, a loud, pornographic moan belting from his chest. you focused your attention on his weeping tip, moaning at the sweet yet salty taste that was him. you toyed with his balls in your hand, giving them a hearty squeeze—

“o-oh f-fuckkk!”

you pulled off his tip with an obscene slurping sound, “cmon cho gimme all your cum. be a good boy and give it to me.” choso mewled, his thighs now trembling rather violently.

“i-i can’t it’s too much i don’t think i—”

“nonsense. i know you got one more in you for me pretty boy,” you cooed, sloppily kissing the inside of his thigh before sinking you teeth into the soft, sweaty flesh. choso let out a loud cry, the whites of his eyes showing before he came. hard.

“f-fuck!”

choso jolted away, a thin sheen of sweat covering his chest and face. his palms were sweaty and his heart was beating a million miles a second—the fuck happened to him?

he turned on his bedside lamp and looked around the entire room, although he wasn’t entirely sure what he had been looking for. his lips turned into a frown when he noticed his boxers had felt sticky. “again?” he sighed in defeat once his eyes landed on his messy boxers and very hard dick.

he lightly touched his cock over his boxers, immediately whimpering at how sensitive he was. “i’ll be quick, r-real quick,” he let out a sigh of relief when his hand began to palm at his boxers, he internally cringed when he felt how wet and sticky they were. his nostrils flared once he finally reached his hand in his boxers, gripping his throbbing cock with need.

his eyes trailed from his dick to his thigh, his brows furrowing when he noticed a bite mark???

while still stroking his cock he lightly touched the bite mark, his breath hitching when it actually felt good? why did it feel so good?

“hah! o-oh wow,” choso breathlessly chuckled, his hips bucking up when he pressed down on the mark once more. oh how he desperately wished he had something to fuck right now. his eyes fluttered shut, his mind trying remember the very lewd dream that had him so worked up.

as choso fucked his fist desperately you hid in the darkest corner of his room, watching him with lustful eyes. choso was always such a needy lil thing, if he had even a semi hard on he couldn’t contain the urge to relieve himself—that’s why you liked him so much and ventured into his dreams every night.

your lips lifted into a smirk when you heard him cum with a needy whine, white ropes on cum shooting onto his toned chest. he didn’t stop there though no no, he kept going, milking his dick until he was writhing in overstimulation. what a slutty man he was.

“m’still hard,” choso mumbled, poking the tip of his leaking cock. his lip caught between his teeth, his nose scrunching when he wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing softly. “one more s-should—mmph! do it,” he sighed, now slowly stroking his dick, a wet shlicking noise echoing throughout the room.

oh you were in for a real treat tonight.

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.