#i love her so much i want to sit on a rock with her

[kiwisbell]

helen ; chapter five

be seeing you

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, the choice.

series masterlist | my masterlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship, sacrilege in the name of romance, flashbacks, graphic violence, guns, blood + injuries, tess cameo, childhood/religious trauma, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST, bamf miller bros, smut, fingering, joel is an emotional munch, shower sex, unprotected PIV, handjob, male whimpering, conflicting emotions, orgasms aplenty, Big Angst and Big Sad but also Big Epiphanies, ambiguous ending, i'm getting emotional writing these tags, it feels so final, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, dividers by @/saradika word count: ~ 9.3k a/n: hi, friends. i can't believe we're already at the end of the main story, and tbh if i think about it too much i'll probably cry. i want to thank @cavillscurls for beta reading this chapter as always and giving me the guidance and support i need. we'll have an epilogue after this chapter, so there's still more to look forward to, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy and thank you so so much for reading. xoxo prev | next

Her eyes are so sad, you think, stepping back to take in the full scope of the canvas. It’s doused in paint from corner to corner, still wet to the touch, the woman and her lover intertwined so thoroughly that it’s difficult to tell where they both end. It’s in shades of glum blue and flecks of angry red and brown where his eye watches you. But it’s her eyes that cannot lift to meet yours. It’s her lashes that fan across her cheeks as she casts her gaze toward the bottom edge where the canvas is wrapped taut around the wood. 

The sun will soon rise, but you haven’t slept. The contours of the sky are washed in a haze of greys and pale blues and light pink and the air smells warm, heavy—a storm about to roll in. The clouds on the horizon are thick with a blackening rage. You sit in the alcove by the window and put your temple to the cool glass. You yawn. Joel does not come back.

“Do you think it's true,” you asked him one night, your head on his chest, hand on his heart, “that art makes nothing happen?”

Joel, drawing shapes on your back, dozing off in the golden light of the sunrise, frowned. “Someone tell you that?”

“It's something my art teacher used to say,” you told him. “No matter how much it moves people, it doesn't do anything.”

“Your art teacher sounds like a fuckin’ downer.”

You laughed, hiking your thigh up over his hip and playfully biting his jaw. “So it's bullshit?”

“I think,” said Joel, tucking his chin to kiss the top of your head, “that your art makes people feel. It brings ‘em together. It's important because it's yours.”

You propped your head up on his chest and threaded your fingers through his too-long hair, overdue for a trim. A curl draped over his forehead, his beard patchy and soft under the pads of your fingers. “Sometimes I wonder why you chose me,” you said. “I wonder why the universe brought you to me.”

Joel shook his head, guiding his rough, callused fingers up your arm, curling them around your wrist, gently prodding your veins. “Wasn't the universe,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t a choice. I was yours the second I saw you. So, I guess it's your fault.”

You just rolled your eyes and kissed him, mouth to smiling mouth. 

Your paintings may be yours, made with life and energy and colour, but when they are finished, they don’t move. They are stagnant as a heavy rock beneath a cliffside, washed over and over again by the cresting waves, its salt stolen for the water, eternal damnation to a fate of non-movement. And sometimes an artist will walk under the cliff, shove their easel into the fleshy ground the way a man erects his country’s flag in the earth he has stolen, and paint the rock. The artist is moved by the breathtaking colours of the shore and the way the wind flutters through the grass. But the rock does not budge. It never will. 

Your art will never erupt from the boundaries of the canvas and tell you what it means. The lovers in your painting will not tear open their mouths like the seams holding a wound together. They will not tell you what they want, need, crave. They are you, and that is what you hate—because dimpled flesh and lustful fingers and the press of his mouth to her throat cannot tell you what you’re supposed to do. 

You had become complacent in his love for you. You had let him press his worn hands to your body and pull your soul out through his mouth and you had been a wife, while all the time there was a stranger who occupied his heart, a spirit in an abandoned body. All the time, he'd been haunted. And although you had loved him, your love had not been enough to exorcise the guilt and trauma, pecking at him, an eagle at his liver. 

Crossing the room and sitting back down in front of the easel, you press your fingers to the corner of the canvas. The paint is cool to the touch, and you leave behind fingerprints where your signature should be. Pulling your hand back, you examine the accumulation of colour, the blues and reds swirling into the deep purple of a bruise, the bodies on a canvas that may only ever mean something to you, and you wonder, Is this all I am? A cautionary tale, a love lost? A fucking footnote at the end of a clause that reads: “See, for example, the one who never loved deeply enough to make it count”?

You bring your hand to your face to wipe away the tears beneath your eyes and blink hard at the sting, realising you’ve smeared paint across your cheekbones. 

In the bathroom, you scrub furiously, the cloying scent of it clinging to your throat and your tear ducts, washing away the evidence of their entwined bodies, their love, your pain. 

Once, you tried to get Joel to paint. You sat behind him on your bench, your legs bracketing his hips, your paintbrush in his hand. 

“I don’t know where to start,” he said.

Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. “There’s no rulebook.”

He tried to turn his head and kiss you, but you nipped his ear in reproach. “Remember when you took me out driving at the airstrip because you wanted me to feel the road? Think of this like feeling the canvas. Go on, cowboy. Make nothing happen.”

Joel’s painting still hangs over your shared bed. The intruders never found it, or never cared enough to destroy it. It’s a candle, just a candle, its lines imprecise, the paint unevenly applied in places, the shine of the flame more orange than yellow. But it’s a painting, so the candle always burns. He titled it Love. 

The pain still sits low in your chest, pulling down your heart as if tied to it by a string. But Joel is still out there, fighting his way back to you, the way he always has, always will. You look down at your left hand, clutching the edge of the marble vanity, and decide to clean your wedding ring. 

“I’m sorry, brother,” says Tommy, turning the gun on Joel. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” growls Joel, struggling against his bonds. The clip rattles faintly in his brother’s hand as a tremor courses through him. 

“He’s following my orders,” says Cabrera, clapping his hand down on Tommy’s shoulder. “Fascinating what a man will do when he must consider his family’s well-being.”

Joel sucks on his teeth, his eyes not once leaving his brother. 

“It's my son,” Tommy says through his teeth. “It's Maria. If I don't do this—”

“Yeah? You gonna kill me, Tommy? Is that why your hand’s shakin’?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” his brother snaps. “You think I want to do this? I gotta save my family, Joel. You know what that's like.”

“All I’ve done for you,” says Joel, his hands curling into fists behind his back, “and you put a bullet in my head?”

“Not just your head, Joel,” says Cabrera. “When we're done with you, we’ll take your pretty girl as payment for my son’s life.”

Joel growls like a dog, blood roaring in his ears. “Kill me yourself, you goddamned coward. Kill me yourself and don’t you mention my wife again, or I swear to Christ—”

“You take His name in vain a lot for a nonbeliever,” says Cabrera, pulling his sleeves through his coat and setting his teeth as he looks toward Tommy once more. “Do it.”

“Yeah, brother,” Joel says darkly, “do it.”

Tommy nods once, planting his foot and pivoting. Five distinct sounds of handguns cocking echo throughout the warehouse as Tommy points the barrel between Manuel Cabrera’s eyes.

“Now that I’ve got a gun to your head,” he says evenly, “you can go ahead and pull that contract.”

Joel at last twists his wrists free of the ropes that bind them and shucks down the sleeves of his jacket to rub the raw skin. Not one soul does a goddamn thing to stop him as he rises to his feet. His chest heaves, his open lungs coarse and wet with a brittle rage, his exposed heart throbbing red, transparent as the stained glass windows of the church.

God does not tolerate anger, said the Sisters, again and again, bringing down the whip across his back. Sinew and bone and skin peeling back to lay bare some tender part of him they sought to rot out. Put your energy into His worship.

Slowly, Cabrera lifts his hands, sneering. “Your wife,” he warns, “and your unborn son—”

“Are family,” says Tommy. “Just like my brother. Now tell your guys to put down their guns and I won't kill you where you stand.”

Joel joins Tommy at his side. “Took you long enough,” he says under his breath. 

“Got held up,” he says. “Your wife’s a good artist.”

“Yeah, whatever. You bring me a gun?”

“I’m sure you can find one yourself.”

“Jesus, Tommy. I’m too old for this.” Joel turns to Cabrera and glares at the same stubborn arrogance that once gleamed in his son’s eye. “You pull the contract, and I’ll leave for good.”

Cabrera’s laugh weans out in the air like rings of smoke. “You think you can really leave, Joel? You think that there won't be consequences for what you've done to my son?”

“Yeah,” says Joel, “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“And you?” Cabrera’s lip curls up at Tommy, whose gun no longer wavers in his grasp. “I promised your wife and child security. You’re willing to throw that away?”

“My wife and child are safe because I don’t take deals from men like you,” says Tommy. “You trusted a Miller to turn on his own blood, Manuel. That was stupid. Now pull the contract.”

“So this is your great suicide mission.” Cabrera smiles, a man who knows he has lost or a man who still expects not to. “A man who has seen Hell does not willingly descend back into its depths—not unless he likes the taste.”

Joel feels the corner of his mouth twitch, a wound on his cheek reopening. “Maybe I do,” he says plainly. “Maybe it’ll taste even better when I take you down with me.”

The gleam in Cabrera’s eye shifts as his gaze flickers behind Tommy. Night has since descended, and yet the predator’s eye glints in anticipation of the hunt. Joel turns and shoves his brother out of the way—just as the shot rings out. 

He hears Tommy’s breath punch out of him as they both hit the concrete hard. Joel tears the handgun from his brother’s grasp and puts a bullet between each of the two men behind them. He rolls behind one of the hulking bodies and holds up his weight as a shield against the incoming bullets. Tommy takes the dead man’s gun and fires at the remaining three assailants. Only one shot misses, but Joel sends his brother a look anyway and finishes the job. 

“Rusty,” grunts Tommy, pushing himself to his feet. 

Joel grimaces as he accepts his brother’s outstretched hand, his wrists bleeding from the relentless rub of the ropes. “He ran,” he says, grinding his teeth. “Goddamn coward. Just like his son.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way,” says Tommy, giving Joel the dead man’s gun and snatching back his own. “Saved your ass.”

“And he got away.” Joel kicks his chair, and the clattering echo of metal reverberates like a choir off the cavernous walls. His hands flex, open, closed, open, closed, until they make tight fists and he can see nothing but red and the silver moon mocking him through the broken windows high above. 

“Joel…”

For a moment, he hears the young boy his brother once was, whispering across their shared bedroom to him in the middle of the night when they were both meant to be asleep. 

Joel… Are we going to be okay?

“I gotta finish it, Tommy,” he says quietly, his hands shaking loose. Parts of him bite and sting, touched by new and old wounds alike, and he wants to come crawling home to you. He wants to curl into your side and wash away the blood in your cleansing pool, daisy and honeysuckle, some faraway field where you are the warden, where he knocks on the door to be let in, to be gathered, covered in white, buried, unearthed. 

“Was he right?” asks Tommy. “Do you… enjoy this?”

Joel casts his eyes toward the ground, his trembling hand, the gleaming band on his ring finger, his skin speckled with blood but the metal pristine. “I don’t know,” he says. 

This is who you are, Cabrera would tell him. The Sisters: Your place is here, under God, under His word. And God Himself, silent as the air, the ringing in his ears only ever quieted by the soft brush of your knuckle across his cheek, the whisper of My Joel in his ear. 

“Think hard on it,” says Tommy, “because you may like it, but you’ve gotta consider if your revenge is worth more than what you’ve already got. And if you choose wrong, Joel, you’re gonna lose no matter what.”

A figure leans stone-still against the wall by the hotel room door, the gleam of a blade in the soft light the only indication that it is not a mere shadow. 

“Hey, kid,” says the apparition. 

Joel nods in greeting. “Tess. Could get in trouble with that knife out in the open.”

“You expect me to keep your girl safe with just my fists?”

“You make it sound like you couldn’t.” Tess snorts, and Joel places fifteen gold coins in her waiting palm. “I appreciate you doing this.”

Tess peels away from the wall. “You and your brother are paying me good money to babysit a door. I think I can live without the thanks.”

“Still,” he says, “you did us a solid.”

Tess, who itches at the prospect of gratitude as much as any other gun-for-hire, shrugs. “Everyone’s saying you’re coming back. That true?”

“Just visiting,” says Joel. “On my way out soon.”

Tess flips one of the coins and turns it over and over across her knuckles, evidence of a restless energy that’s always made Joel’s eye twitch. “One way or another, huh?” she says.

“One way or another.” He shakes her hand and watches her retreat down the hall, still twirling the godforsaken coin, before he turns toward the door. Joel presses his forehead briefly to the cool wood and turns the key to seek the field that awaits him.

A key rustles in the door and Joel steps through, closing it gently behind him. Judging by the quiet click of the lock, he expects you to be asleep, but you jolt upright from your seat in the alcove and cross the room toward him.

He meets you halfway, his right hand flexing at his side. You inspect him: the gash on his cheek, the bruise on his jaw, the blood splattered on his white shirt. He makes no footfalls as he walks but you can hear every stride like thunder between your ears. You feel his hand at the back of your neck, cool from the night air, rough as the underside of a shark’s belly.

The moment coils taut between you as your hand reaches up to grab the lapel of his jacket, and he smells of iron, cologne, Joel, some paint. Maybe that smell is you, stuck underneath your fingernails, embedded in your blood. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe you could never help but fall, maybe it never mattered anyway, and you’re already snipping the final thread, unwinding the spool, and kissing Joel Miller like it’s the first time. 

He let out a small groan, tasting the first drop of water in a drought, steadying you with his arm around your waist, his hand cradling your head. He’s gentle, exploratory, careful not to jostle, to shock you out of it. You feel his heartbeat thud, strong, calm, steady behind his clothing and skin and muscle, and your body caves.

It’s coming home, you realise, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers tousling the messy curls on his head. It's the warm press of his hand to your spine where it begins to curve inward. It's a soft mouth, a plush lower lip, made for slow mornings and black coffee, for the aching release of a thumb pressing deep into a muscle knot, a wound. Old aches soothed in the space where bodies meet, beginning to colour the slate-grey world. 

It’s the exchange of gasping breaths when you pull apart, his mouth still vaguely chasing yours, opposite charge. 

You hold him tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat, your hands squeezing his shoulders. "Are you…"

Joel inclines his head. "Yeah."

"Did he..."

"Yeah."

Need pulses. Supernova. Bright as the moment of obliteration. "Can you—"

He nods vigorously. "Yeah."

Joel’s kisses are like raindrops: velvet-soft to the touch—his hands bringing the hem of your shirt up over your head, his fingertips scorching, branding, grazing the supple swells of your breasts—before the crescendo roars in your ears and he loses himself to the storm. He always does. 

There is nothing reserved about the way he shows his love. Lightning crackles across your skin where he touches you, baring you to him, his lips making a map of you, mouthing at your jaw, your throat. You hear yourself hum at the press of his lips to the spot beneath your ear, detaching from your own body, absconding with the pleasure of being close to him and leaving the fucking world behind. 

Joel staggers forward so he can press you to the wall and begins to sink to his knees. Your breath catches as he pulls down your ratty bottoms, your cotton panties, his mouth burning into your hips and your belly and the ring on your finger. 

“Joel,” you say brokenly as he clutches your fingers. Tears prickle, pressure building behind your nose, and he shakes his head, unfurling your palm like a bud in bloom and kissing its heel. Wordlessly, you watch him, your eyes shuttering, blood singing. 

Don't hurt me again. 

He understands even though the words cannot come alive on your tongue. He squeezes your hips, his thumbs dumpling your flesh, his forehead falling to your belly. 

“I’m yours,” he says. “I’m whatever you want.”

Your legs haven't forgotten the way they part so easily for him, one thigh on his shoulder, opening the core of you to his waiting mouth. His lips part, his tongue wetting them, glistening, and your stomach tightens at the sight of his eyes so black. 

You could easily cower. His hands are stained with blood. His knuckles are split. But your terror has become an arid thing, no kindling to burn, no oil to ignite. Watching him now, as eager to please as he always has been or maybe more so, on his knees like a supplicant, the hairs on your arms do not rise in apprehension. Your body does not squirm in fear. You see a broad horizon, the sun outside spilling its golden blood over the city, and you see all of him in a way you never did before. 

He’s Joel, who grew up in darkness, lashed and beaten for not believing in a false god. He’s a man who has lied and killed and yet he is no liar, no killer. He holds you as he always has, your body liquid in his hands, your mouth proclaiming the word he will follow. You're the truth he's always told. 

It still unsettles you to see the dark eclipse that warm brown, to watch his desire consume the hypnotic shapes in his irises, and wonder if that cavernous black was the last thing so many men saw before he snuffed out their lives. But there's nothing of the death shudder in the way you guide your fingers through his hair and beg him—

“Please.”

He brings his mouth to your core and parts your folds with his thumbs, slowly gliding his warm, wet tongue through your slit. You die a hundred little deaths in the split-second of that first touch, that first agony.

You sigh, your head thudding against the wall as he licks through you, his hands holding your hips in place, keeping you from writhing. Joel flicks his tongue over the sensitive pearl of your clit, the pleasure searing, and you tug at his curls to push him away even as you cry out, More, please, please. God, I need more.

He obeys you as easily as breathing, though you suspect he can barely hear your pleas, opening his mouth and flattening his hot tongue to your clit. You gasp, your core pulling taut, your eyes locking with his as the muscle undulates over, over, and over again. 

“Oh,” you whimper, your hips bucking to meet his face. He groans, his mouth working your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking. You cry out, your leg kicking, the sounds of the world muffled in his stifling closeness. Your thighs begin to ache, tensing and relaxing a hundred times over in the throes of his attention. 

And his fingers are gliding across your hip, seeking the warmth between your legs. You gasp his name, your hips flexing, as he collects your wetness on two fingers. 

“Let me in, baby,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit. It relaxes you enough to welcome the press of his fingers inside you, sinking to the knuckle, curling up against the spot he would know in his sleep. 

You whine, your body keening toward him, tugging his face back toward your pussy. He obliges with a quiet moan, and you think he needs this just as badly. 

The obscene squelch of his fingers inside you rings in your ears as he licks and sucks at your clit, his free hand grabbing desperately at your ass to keep you fixed to him. You’re crying, “Yesyesyes, Joel, please—fuck, that's it,” the pleasure stuck in the grooves of your brain. Absentmindedly, you reach for his hand and clasp it tight, your engagement ring digging into his palm. He holds you with the same fervour as he coaxes you higher, his face buried in your pussy. He grunts and groans like it's his own pleasure he seeks, his battered knuckles stinging. 

“Joel… Joel, oh, I’m…”

He knows, of course, from the telltale squeeze of your thighs around his head, the relentless crushing of his fingers in your own, your body tightening for him, cavitating, unwinding—

You come with a shout, your throat raw, writhing in his grasp as he keeps sucking, keeps licking, rubbing, pressing. You're dizzy by the time your head lolls to the side, your muscles twitching, eyes glazed, and Joel is there, pulling his fingers out just to place them on his tongue and swallow you down. 

Your breath rattles through your lungs. Joel presses his lips to your inner thigh, beard soaked in your arousal, moustache glistening. His mouth soothes your sore muscles and your eyes begin to droop. 

“You need a shower,” you say, your tongue like lead in your mouth. You gently pass your thumb over a cut on his cheek and frown. “You're all bloody.”

He nuzzles his face against your thigh, inhaling you. “I know.”

“You were gone so long.” Your voice quivers, pressure prickling behind the bridge of your nose. “I thought…”

Joel rises to his feet, his hands cradling your face. “I’m all right,” he says. “I’m here, and I’m safe, and I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together so the sob will not escape. Tracing his face with your fingers, broken in places, healing in others, you see the echo of a boy who didn't know his place in the world. You see the haunt of days gone by. A ghost still occupies the cage of his ribs. 

“I think you should tell the little boy that still lives here,” you say, putting your hand on his chest. “Tell him he’s alive. Tell him that he made it.”

Joel lowers his head, watching the way your fingers splay over his heart. He puts his hand on yours and pushes, and you feel the strong thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat. 

“He knows.”

You lean forward and put your mouth to his temple. “Shower, Joel,” comes your whisper in his ear. 

He nods, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you into the bathroom. The water hits you both true, scalding, the drain circled with red. He’s naked, his back to you as he sets his hair and lets his wounds bleed what they need to. 

You lift your hands and trail them down his broad shoulders, your forehead dropping between his shoulder blades where your name is inked into his back. Joel’s muscles idly flex, his palm flat against the shower wall. His body shudders when you press your lips to the name on his back. 

Wordlessly, you bring your arms around him, caressing his side, careful of the new bruises. Your other hand drops to his steel-hard cock and you begin to slowly stroke him. The noise that wrenches free from his throat is half pleasure, half agony, his hips bucking into your fist. You bump your nose against his back, your years-old sign to Just relax, and Joel hides his face in his bicep as you work your hand over him.

“G—fuck,” he grunts. “Goddamn… honey, I—”

You squeeze him at the base and twist your hand up and down the length of him, the weight warm and heavy, your thumb coaxing out a bead of precum. Your cheek is warm on his back, your arm struggling to reach around the width of him, your chest humming at the sound of his gruff moans. 

“Let me…” He cuts himself off as you speed up your strokes, and you can feel his abdomen tense. “Fuck, let me make you feel good. Shit… let me…”

“Joel,” you say, “for once, stop trying to be my hero.”

His head falls back and you press your lips to his throat, nibbling the sensitive spot behind his ear: the old scar, that tiny circle, that hairless patch. He groans your name, and you’re smiling despite yourself, your mouth curling against his warm, tender skin. 

“Inside me,” you whisper, the pace of your fingers over his length slowing to a crawl. “Remind me how it feels.”

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his lashes dewy, blinking hard to flick away the water, brow furrowed. His moustache bristles as his lips part in a question he does not (or maybe cannot) articulate, and you’re fractured into pieces by the intricate curve of his nose, the freckles on his jaw, the silver strands in his beard. A rough hand cups the back of your neck and another takes you by the waist, and you’re flattened to the wall, your hand braced on the glass next to you as he kisses you deeply. 

Consuming, heady, warm—you give in, your hands avoiding the delicate skin of his wrists where he’s been bound, helpless. Sighing softly into his mouth, you let his kiss humble the part of you that still needs the walls you’ve built from the marrow of your anger. It circles the drain, lead-filled paint, as you remember under his hands how it feels to live.

You reach between your bodies, your leg wrapping around his waist, and slide the head of his cock through your weeping slit. Joel sucks in air through his teeth, the water lashing his back like a whip, and he surges forward, grasping you by the waist and sinking his cock into your tight hole. 

You cry out his name, burying your face in his throat and baring your teeth. Your name leaves his mouth in kind, an apparition, sounds you barely recognise anymore. As you take him inside you, the memory of who you were with him pounds at your ribcage, begging to be let out. And you covet them, selfish as you are now for fucking him this way, needy and impatient, your fingers tugging his wet locks. 

You see no point in scooping out the marrow; there is still sweetness stuck to the bones of your old life with him. Instead, you coat your teeth in this, the slow drag of his cock, the depths he reaches so easily, so knowingly. His fingers prod the bruised flesh of your hurt and yet you still guide him inside. You still pull his hair and kiss his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs and you still let him hold you close enough to splinter. 

He’s grabbing fistfuls of your ass and sucking on your throat, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to hold back, to make you come first, but you tighten, clenching down on him, making his groans pitch up into whines. 

“Joel,” you gasp, your needy fingers prickling his scalp where you pull his hair. His teeth graze your throat and you want him to bite, you want him to sink in deep, you want his jaws to latch onto your skin. You want him never to leave again. 

He comes hard. His hips buck, pushing so deep he disappears into your body, and you see the blues, browns, reds of your painting as he empties all he has left inside you. 

Panting, he drops his head to your breast, his open mouth still scattering weak, worn kisses over your skin. Your lungs expand under his palms, fingers stuck in the grooves between your ribs, his body an offshoot of yours, not the other way around. In the ringing afterlife of your pleasure, you vaguely feel him mouthing words you cannot hear. You run your fingers through his hair and enjoy the battering of the scorching water as it melts you both into one.

Later, in the sticky, humid silence of the bathroom, steam still swirling around your heads, fogging the glass, you trim Joel’s hair.

"Do you ever get scared?" you ask him, the shhhick of the scissors gliding across a chunk of his hair. "Do you ever go out on a job and think to yourself, What if I slip? What if this is it?"

Joel huffs. "It's not so much about myself as making sure the other guy goes down first."

“I think I’d be scared.” You twirl a lock of hair around your finger and let it fall over his forehead. “I don’t think I’d be able to look into someone’s eyes and take their life.”

He casts his eyes to his lap, flicking off some hair from his thigh. “One time, I thought it was over. I wasn’t quite seventeen yet, runnin’ drugs for some gangster. He sent me to El Sauzal to discreetly transport a couple kilos out of the city; someone had snitched and he didn’t want any rival gangs to find his stash. But the people there, they… They didn’t know any better. There were mothers, kids. Innocent people, y’know? Just strays. I decided I’d come back for ‘em.”

Your stomach twists. “What happened?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I was too late. By the time I got back, the whole goddamn city was on fire. The people were either dead in the streets or close to it. They didn’t do anythin’ wrong. They didn’t ask for any of it. But they were weaker, slower. I couldn’t walk ten feet without seein’ some kid wrapped up his mother’s arms, burned to a fucking crisp. So, I came back with weapons, marched into the gang’s territory, and I killed ‘em all.”

Days ago, you’d be afraid of the man whose back warms your belly where you stand just behind him. You would hesitate to reach out and put your hand on his shoulder the way you do now. But you curl your fingers over the muscled curve of his arm and his head falls back against you, spidering open, his gooey molten centre bared for you.

Joel. Just Joel. 

“Did you see the painting?” you ask him quietly. 

“I see everything you do,” he says. “It's beautiful, baby.”

You drop your gaze from his face in the mirror and set down the scissors on the vanity. “I can't pretend to understand what you've been through, Joel, and that makes things even harder. All I've ever wanted is to love you, to take your pain, and all this time there's been so much I never even knew about. And I’m sorry.”

Joel’s hand comes to cover yours, clasping your fingers. They’re warm, rough, but you do not sense the phantom blood. “If I’d told you from the beginning,” he says, “maybe I never would've hurt you in the first place. All those years I thought I was protecting you from myself, I was hurting you—the one thing I swore I would never fuckin’ do.”

“Joel…”

“Baby, don't apologise to me,” he says firmly, putting his lips to your knuckles. “Never apologise to me. And don't you let me off easy.”

“Have I ever?” you say with a halfhearted smile. 

“Yeah,” he says, “the day you let me marry you.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. Wedding planning was hell on earth for you.”

“Just because I didn't like the photographer—”

“You didn't not like the photographer, Joel. You wanted to draw and quarter the photographer.” 

He huffs like an angry dog, frowning at you in the mirror. “He kept puttin’ his goddamn hands on you.”

You laugh, brushing your thumb over the patch in his beard to indicate you're finished. “He was posing us, cowboy.”

Joel rises to his feet and closes the scissors away inside the drawer. “Posin’ you, sure.”

“He was afraid to touch you. Probably thought you’d take off his hand. And the pictures turned out great.”

“Yeah,” he says, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Way the sunlight caught in your hair, your eyes… I don't know. Beautiful.”

He was so shy the first time you kissed him. Cheeks flushed, eyes cast toward the ground, the wind ruffling his curls where it blew over the water. He was made in an artist’s image, you thought that night, the details pored over like paperwork, the sparkle in his eyes something the painter covets. But the portrait has never wilted in the years you've known him. It's grown older, sure, but it is not old. He's still shy sometimes; he still looks down when he smiles, and he still turns his cheek when you tell him he's beautiful. 

“Do you…” He rubs his palms over his thighs, looking up at you through his lashes. “Do you wish you could go back?”

It's your turn to sit. You drop into his chair, your arms curling over the back of the seat, and watch him on his journey to his knees. “I don't know, Joel,” you tell him. “I think about that day and part of me wants the magic of it back. I want the breeze and the sun and the white canopy and I want you sliding this ring on my finger. But knowing what I know now…”

“You wouldn't have married me,” he says like it's the only answer. His eyes are wet and sad and they sparkle so bright in the day. 

“I wish I’d known,” you say plainly, bringing his hand to your cheek and resting it over the cool wedding band. “I wish you would have told me everything. I wish you didn't make me question your love, even for a second. I wish you could have spared me all this anger I have—all this pain.”

He’s stone-still, a figure in a portrait, and you brush your fingers across his cheek. “But killing isn't what you are, Joel. It’s what you do. And I’m so tired of being angry.”

You say it fiercely, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, your throat tightening. You swipe your thumbs under your eyes and meet your husband’s eye. “I love you more than my anger and my hurt have room for. And if I can love you this hard, if I can feel all this pain and still be that same girl who fell for the guy from the restaurant, then I can let myself get hurt all over again.”

Joel shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands as his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, baby…” 

“I know it's never been an easy marriage,” you say, your voice breaking, “and I’m always travelling, and I know that I can get snippy and we bicker, but I wouldn't go back to that day, Joel, because I wouldn't change anything. Even if I have to feel all of this again, I wouldn't take it all back.”

His inhale shudders through him and your heart lurches out of your chest. “I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek, catching a tear that falls. “I’ve hurt you too much to ever be worthy of what you've given me, sweetheart. I ain't a good man, or even a decent one. But fuck, if I can be good for you, I’ll pray to whatever God they want me to. I’ll scrape my knees and put my hands together and fake it ‘til I’m someone you want. I swear it, baby.”

“Joel.” You gently pry his hands away. “The life you've lived, the things you've been through… I can't change any of it. I can't be what you need all the time, and fuck, I want to be. I do, Joel. But this life is something you have to figure out yourself. Nobody should force you to believe in something that's only ever caused you pain.”

He never told you about the tattoo; you had to find it yourself. Shucking the hem of his shirt up over his head, two weeks separating the last time you’d been able to indulge in his body, you trailed your fingers up his back and paused at the sound of him hissing through his teeth. 

“Easy, cowboy,” you cooed. “Are you all right?”

Wordlessly, he turned, taking your hand and lifting it to the reddish skin around the black ink. You gasped, your fingers jolting backward as if struck by a feeler of lightning. 

“Joel,” you said tremulously, “please don't tell me you were drunk and this was an impulse decision.”

“Guys in the Marines would get tattoos that meant somethin’ to them. Easier to carry around with you when you're away.” Joel met your gaze again, your tearful eyes, and brought your knuckles to his mouth. “Tell me you want it gone, and it's gone.”

You shook your head, a laugh snaking past the lump in your throat. “Selfishly, I think it’s very sexy.”

He chuckled, kissing the breath from your lungs. 

The memory is heavy in your stomach. It's something you'll have to roll around in your mouth a thousand times before the taste begins to dissolve. 

“I need time, Joel,” you tell him. “I need to wrap my head around things. I… I can't be the girl you want right now.”

Joel brushes his thumb over your chin. “You have always been the girl I want,” he says. “If you need time, you have it. If you need a warm body, you have it. I’m whoever you want me to be. And if it ain't a husband, then… then that's okay. But I can’t promise you that I won't stop tryin’ to get my wife back. That’s not who I am.”

You sniffle, twirling the ring on his finger. “You’ll get sick of it. The waiting.”

He smiles so softly that you can feel a bud begin to bloom in the core of you, nourished by the way he keeps his hand on your thigh, absently rubbing the sore muscles there.  “I waited my whole life for someone like you to come along—someone who could give me the purpose I’d been lookin’ for. I can wait another lifetime. I can wait a thousand.” 

“You’ll resent me. You’ll start to hate me.” You don't know why it comes pouring out of you, but the gates are brittle wood and they snapped in the torrent. “I’m an angry drunk. I smell like paint half the time. I travel for work.”

Joel just studies your face, some inexplicable calm etching out the agony. “You take your coffee with milk and sugar and you can't stand it black, but you make it that way for me anyway. You sleep until noon when you're jet lagged and I sit up in bed just to watch you dream. You lie in my arms on the couch at home and ask me about my day even when you're noddin’ off. You dreamed about love when you were a little girl, the way it happens in books. You told me in your wedding vows that you'd found it with me. You think I could resent a girl like that?”

He smiles like it hurts and heals all at once, like it's a foregone conclusion, like you were meant to be loved by him. 

“Time doesn't mean a goddamn thing. I know the girl I see in front of me now. Time won't change how much I love her.”

Flipping through the list of potential venues, Joel tucked into your side, you said, “We’ll have an outdoor ceremony. No churches.”

“Baby, I won't burst into flames if I step inside a church.” Joel playfully flicked his tongue over your nipple, obscured by his T-shirt. “Tommy, on the other hand… things he's done…”

You laughed, gently pushing at his head. “No churches,” you said again. “I don't care how much more we’ll have to pay or travel to get around it. You're my husband. You're my comfort, and I want to be what's comfortable for you. Understood?”

He looked up at you, his lips parted as if on the precipice of speech. You beamed, bringing his face to yours and kissing him deeply. 

“But if the wind knocks over the gazebo, you're not getting your dick inside me on our wedding night,” you said against his mouth. Joel shook his head, yanking you on top of him and tearing the shirt from your body. Your binder landed with a flutter of loose pages to the floor. 

“You didn't kill Cabrera.”

Joel lowers his eyes. “No. He got away.”

“So there's still a contract on your head.”

“For now.”

“So,” you say with a sigh, crossing the room and digging through your bag, “you have to go.”

“I have to go,” he echoes, following you like a shadow. “No matter what… I’m finishing it. Tonight.”

You pull the switchblade from your bag, open Joel’s fist, and place the cool wood hilt in his palm. 

“Goddammit, Tommy,” he says under his breath. “He shouldn't have…”

“But he did,” you say. “He said I should be the one to have it. I think it should be yours.”

He curls his fingers over the hilt and flicks open the blade. It's light, but it seems to weigh him down. You rest your hand over his. 

“Do what you need to do.”

He drops his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, soaking in this final breath exchanged between your silent bodies, dipping his fingers in the sanctified waters and coming out unscalded. 

Bill calls Joel not a moment after he steps onto the street outside the Continental. 

“That's a heavy price on your head.”

“Yeah, Bill, I know.” He breathes in the cool air, like cigarette smoke, his nostrils stinging. Trash and a new, fresh breeze carried into the city. Nothing that stays here ever thrives. “Stayed alive so far.”

“So I hear,” grunts the Manager, “and leaving behind a hell of a lot of cleanup.”

“I won't stick you with the check,” says Joel. “It's my business.”

“I don't conduct business inside this hotel,” says Bill, “which is why I won't tell you that a certain helicopter at a certain helipad is refuelling as we speak.”

Joel smirks, flicking out his cuff to check the time. “Any reason why you aren't tellin’ me this?”

“I like you, Joel. Despite myself.” 

Silent, he waits for more. 

“Besides,” Bill continues, “we live and die by honour. And you've saved my ass more than once.”

Joel snorts. “Which time are you thankin’ me for?”

“Just take my goddamn advice and leave this world. For good this time.”

“I will,” says Joel. “One way or another. Thanks, Bill.”

High above the ground, sitting in the alcove by the window, you watch storm clouds gather over the city, darkening the sky, the sun, and your Joel, so far away, slouching calmly toward whatever end he will choose. 

It's raining. 

The first time you kissed him, a downpour suddenly swept up the both of you and you'd scrambled underneath a bridge by the water. You both laughed until your ribs were sore, holding hands as you ran, a soaking wet playbill above each of your heads for cover. 

“At least the show was good,” you shouted over the roar of the rainfall. 

Joel was mesmerised into stillness by the colours of the traffic lights in your eyes, how they shifted over the planes of your face. Starting to think like an artist, you'd tease, and he'd lean into it, a planet circling its sun. 

“It was all right,” he said, taking the playbill from your hand. “You could catch a cold. We should get a cab.”

“Always my hero.” You grinned up at him, your eyes scanning his face in that particular way they did, as if ingesting the sight of him to later put the lines to a canvas. “Did you have a good time, Joel? I mean, really. You won't offend me.”

He grimaced. “I, uh… well, see, I’m not the best judge, and… I guess—”

“Joel.”

There was a gleam in your eyes that could have been amusement or could have been hunger. He doesn't remember. He only saw you tilt your chin and lower your eyes to his mouth, to that one place the Sisters always called vulgar, obscene, a place meant only for His word—

“Can I kiss you, Joel Miller, or will you keep being all heroic?”

It was soft, gentle, exploratory. Your mouth opened his like a wound, setting the scorching blade of your lips to the gash, staunching the blood. You healed and burned him, one hand on his back beneath his jacket, the other cupping his face. It reminded him of the statue that lived in the theatre underneath the church where all the boys and girls trained. An angel cast in white marble, cradling the face of Saint Eustace. The statue was chipped where his eye was meant to be. 

He remembers the way he shuddered when you touched him like that. He remembers the chill that started in his feet and crept up his spine. Something like coming alive, settling back into his own body—no longer a spirit haunting the shell of a home but a man. 

You pulled back, but Joel curled his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you again, deeper, maybe a little too eager, too inexperienced—but you gasped, fingers curling in his hair, your body curving into his. Your noses bumped when you separated, and he remembers laughing. 

The rain is nothing like that night. It's the lash of a whip across his face, seeping colour from the world instead of infusing it with light and movement. The water by the docks slaps against the concrete and boats rock and groan against their mooring. The lights of the city are distant now. 

Joel steps out of the car. 

He marches toward his target, cocking the pistol in his hand, and calls out a name. It gets lost in the roll of thunder across the sky and lodges in his chest. 

Cabrera waits on the landing pad, looking wraithlike in a long black coat and a pair of leather gloves. His pilot fuels the helicopter nearby. Neither of them hear Joel’s voice in the air. The rising sun is what gives him away—or maybe the gunshot, as he lifts his arm and pulls the trigger. 

It does not pierce flesh. It ricochets off one of the rotor blades. He had aimed slightly to the left. 

The pilot scampers off into hiding, but the slash of the bullet through the rainfall is enough to get the attention Joel wants. Cabrera reaches inside the lining of his jacket and fires a single shot. Joel can feel it tear through skin and muscle, but it doesn't hurt. 

“Joel,” greets Cabrera. 

“Manuel.” 

His chest heaves, his jacket soaked through, the cold sinking bone-deep. 

“Let's finish this.”

The glimmer in those depthless black eyes is the panther at the hunt, relentless in its hunger, licking its chops at the sight of a challenge. For all the coward’s blood in his veins, it still pulses at the prospect of winning. 

“Like men,” says Cabrera, tossing his gun aside at the same time Joel does. “With honour. No more guns.”

And it's laughable: the thought that there is any honour left in a world like this. A world where children are beaten and lashed and trained to hold a weapon too big for their hands. A world that burns villages, butchers families, and still claims that without rules, we live with the animals. 

A world as unruly as this cannot be ruled. He never truly considered it until he saw the sad gleam in your eye, felt the empathetic touch of your hand on his face, and began to realise that maybe he should be furious. 

But because he already knows he's going to win, Joel lets his opponent land the first blow. 

The blood is tangy, near-sweet, as he swipes his forearm over his mouth and smears crimson on his shirtsleeve. It tingles faintly on his lips and crackles, warm as the melt from a late-winter snow. He feels it settle in the grooves of his palms, the hairs of his beard. He’s drowning in it. 

Cabrera hits hard, but he’s slow. He’ll take five punches in the time it takes to wind up for one. Joel brings his arm up to block the next and delivers a blow to the sternum with his knee as his opponent’s guard drops. Wide open, Cabrera stumbles a few steps back, choking down the telltale wheeze of being winded. Joel marches forward, relentless in his crusade, grasping him by the scruff of his neck, teeth bared like a mad wild dog, and bears his skull down on the side of the railing. Around them, the wind howls and lashes at his clothes, but he still hears the pained scream as if it were poured into his ears. 

Cabrera drops to his knees, and Joel grabs him again, bashing his head repeatedly against the steel bar, the lapel of an Italian leather coat bunching between his fingers, tainted by rainwater and the fist of the man who's come to take his life. 

And fuck, Joel wants to make it last. 

But there's a knife in his opponent’s hand, conjured from the darkness of his coat pocket, and Joel must release him to avoid the lethal slash of the blade. Blinking blood and lashing rain from his eyes, the man lunges with a snarl, and Joel recovers from his lost victory, stopping him with his fingers curled around his opponent’s wrist. He brings his hand to the crook of Cabrera’s elbow and uses his leverage to snap the bone.

Yowling, Cabrera drops to his haunches, the knife clattering to the ground. Joel, chest heaving, stands over him, flexing his fingers as he readies his fist for the killing blow.

His name leaves Cabrera’s bloodied mouth, accompanied by a mouthful of crimson-tainted saliva spat on the ground at Joel’s feet. 

“Joel…” He lifts his head, cradling his broken arm, and sneers. There’s a chilling glow of satisfaction in it. “Did you get your perfect life, Joel? Do you really think you’ve won? It won’t ever stop. Not after you’ve killed me, not after you’ve killed all of them. Is that what you’re going to do? Kill them all?”

He could. He has done far worse. He has spilled blood for gold coins and superficial alliances and someone else's revenge. He has stalked, stolen, lied, killed, and he could finish this now, so easily, with the flick of a blade. 

But the song of death does not call to him now. 

For so long he had trudged, unmoored, through heavy crimson blood. Like pulling at the seams of velvet, he'd sewn more lives into the sea of red and he never looked behind him to see the souls trying to pull him down at the ankles. He didn't know purpose until he saw the way the candlelight flickered in your eyes, until he tilted his head to the side and realised your smile was a new kind of beautiful from each angle. 

The rain sticks to his lashes and he thinks of an old song of prayer the Sisters used to chant. He remembers curling his fingers around one of the rosaries that hung from the large cross in the cathedral and wincing in anticipation. He thought he would burn—that the metal would leave a red stain on his palm. It never did. 

Maybe that's why he never believed. Surely, if there was a God, Joel Miller would have burned by now. 

He thinks of shopping for furniture and date nights and lazy mornings, tangled in bedsheets. Your mouth, smiling against his, whispering I love you across the breakfast table. Dancing—or swaying, more like—under the kitchen light. Loving easily, never feeling as if he must grab hold of the cross and burn himself upon it just to feel. 

Joel turns the switchblade in his hand, lurches forward, and plunges the knife into Cabrera’s chest. 

There is no noise but a faint gurgle from his mouth, his hand weakly rising to grasp the hilt. Joel drops to his knees and fishes Cabrera’s cell phone from his pocket. 

“The blade is stuck in your aorta,” he says. “If you pull it out, you’ll bleed out and die.” He puts the rain-slick screen in front of Cabrera’s face. “Pull the contract.”

A few feeble taps are all it takes, and Joel Miller is no longer a target. His name glares back at him on the screen, from two million to nothing, not the boogeyman any longer but something akin to a civilian. Joel tosses the phone into the water and turns to leave. 

“See you in hell, Joel,” Cabrera chokes, still grasping the shiny wooden hilt of the blade.

He barely hauls himself into the car, which chokes to a rumbling start. There's blood seeping through his shirt where Cabrera shot him, and his fingers shake as they pull away from the wound, the red so bright, so alive. Joel grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. 

If there’s a God, he thinks, I hope you fucking hear me now. 

Tell me that we don’t get what we deserve. Because there is nothing I deserve in this world if I cannot keep what I’ve found.

His fingers trembling, smearing blood across the screen, he makes a call. 

And your voice on the line, soft, sticky with sleep, whispering his name—just his name: Joel?—is what wrenches the first sob from his throat. 

Joel, you say, like it means something, like it's precious. A jewel pressed from dusty black coal. Come back to me. Come home. 

So he does. 

[starfxkr]

ummmm can we talk more about john b putting a leash/collar on pup!reader...... the thought of him having her sit on her knees and stick her tongue out while he tugs the leash forward has me feral

🪼

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

this was a new step to your relationship, one that meant you put full trust in john b that he would love and care for you on a level deeper than you ever thought.

the collars simple, it's not even a traditional collar really--a simple braided necklace he made himself with all your favorite colors, a little engraved heart shaped pendant that read property of john b routledge in plain font.

you were kneeling in front of him in anticipation, nothing on but that pretty collar as you waited for his instruction.

the outline of his thick cock was straining against his shorts and your mouth watered at the thought it's weight again your tongue, but you knew you had to be patient.

"open that pretty mouth for me pup." john b looked at you with those soft brown eyes, a slight smile on his face as he tapped your lips with his finger.

eagerly you do what he says, letting out a soft exclamation when he pinches your tongue between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulls it out your mouth.

"you were so good today you know that?" slowly he began to rub his finger against the pink muscle, making you whimper and drool in anticipation. whenever he praised you like this, you knew you were in for a treat and given how quickly he was pulling himself out his shorts you knew now was no exception.

"i think you deserve a treat," he softly tugs your towards his crotch more, you have no choice but to crawl closer--collar quietly jingling" until your head was in his lap, "go on now, s'all yours."

that was all you needed to engulf him in your mouth with a moan the second the earthy taste of him flooded your mouth. you worked his girth length down your throat as best as you can and john b made no secret of how much he enjoyed it--moaning and grunting with each wet suck.

your head was practically empty, your thoughts only of john b and his heavy cock and the desire to taste him cum filling your mouth.

"go down, all the way, fuck you're gonna make me cum."

you give him your all--spit drooling down your chin and over his heavy sack, you fight the urge to bring them up to your searching tongue peaking past your lips because he didn't say you could touch him yet, but you can't help but rock your hips in search of some friction.

"shit, shit, stay right there, stay there, goddamn." he lets out a loud grunt as he cums, his brown curls spilling over the back of the couch while he holds your head down and continues to fuck your face.

each spurt of hot cum down your throat makes your eyes flutter knowing you've made him feel good. you so deeply float into a hazy space you don't notice him pulling you off and lifting you into his lap.

"woah there, still with me?"

you nod in affirmation, burrowing yourself into his bulky chest.

"you're a real good girl pup, you know that." john b brushes a palm against your sweaty cheek and kisses your face until your eyes are more alert and you're giggling, "can't lose you just yet, i want you conscious when i fuck you."

[bteezxyewriter12]

Coachella Night

Pairing- ATEEZ OT8 x Named Reader

Word count- 5k

Includes- Basically a gangbang, sex work but is it really work when the reader loves her job😆, 9 person relationship- don't know what that's called?, cock riding, missionary, from behind, double penetration, blow job, deep throating, pussy eating, cum eating, choking, squirting, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, so much cum, fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝OT8 Masterlist

J POV

"Come here", San growls, pulling me into his naked lap, "Sit on my cock and ride me"

Getting his dick to my entrance, I slide down, my pussy wet and opening just enough for him push in and spread my hole open

"Fuck yes", he yells, his fingers digging into my thighs, pushing me down on him, "Fuck, just what I need right now. Fuck tight little pussy"

I know sex is just what he needs

It's what they all need after every performance, especially this hard intense Coachella one, which is why I'm here

ATEEZ's personal whore

I was hired for KQ for this reason

Fuck the guys whenever they want

And god do I love my job

It's more than a job since I've been with them since ATEEZ started

It's evolved into love between me and all of them

A weird nine person relationship that surprisingly works for us

I moved into the dorm with them, sleeping in one of their rooms every night

I go with them on every tour, every show, sleeping with them individually, in groups or all together

They take care of me and I take care of them, sexually and non sexually

But right now they wanna fuck and so do I

San bottoms me out on his length and I immediately start bouncing up and down, the drag of his big cock so fucking good

"Yes, fuck, ride me naekkeo", he yells, his hands helping me move up and down, "Oh god, yes"

Leaning over him, I lean one hand on his abs, the hard muscles cut into his skin, feeling so good under my fingers

I wrap my other hand around the chains around his neck, gripping them hard, moaning as every slam down his perfect head hits my spot, pleasure shooting up my spine

"Fuck, god your horny huh baby?", he grunts, his hips moving up, fucking up into me and meeting me when I come down, plunging his cock in so much deeper, "Pussy is already making such a huge creamy mess. So fucking tight, wanting to cum already"

I nod, whining, both of us fucking each other quickly, his big cock throbbing inside me

"It's not only me Sannie. Your cock wants to cum", I tell him, clenching down on his hard length, making it even more pleasurable for his dick to push through, "You want to fill my pussy baby"

"Fuck yes, I do"

"Mm I wanna cream all over your cock"

"Do it", he urges, "Right now"

He slams in hard and I scream as bliss takes over, my whole body shaking as I cum

"San! San! San!"

"Joanne fuck! Yes naekkeo, so tight", he gasps

Shoving his cock inside me, I feel him throb then warm cum filling me as I watch him orgasm

He's so fucking gorgeous

They all are

I rock on his cock, my pussy milking him as we both finish

He sits up, smiling at me right before he pulls me into a passionate kiss

I move my arms around his neck, kissing him back, loving how passionate he is when kissing me

They all have different ways of kissing and I love them all

San's is passionate

Wooyoung's is teasing

Seonghwa's is slow and deep Hongjoong's is hungry

Yeosang's is wild

Mingi's is desperate

Yunho's is eager

And Jongho's is hard

And I'm honestly in heaven any time I kiss any one of them

"Ok my turn!", Wooyoung whines

San breaks the kiss, chuckling, "Seems like Woo needs you bad naekkeo. Be good to him ok?"

I nod, "Always"

"Love you naekkeo"

"Love you Sannie", I answer, kissing his cheek

Climbing off of San, I sit on the bed while he gets up, Wooyoung coming right next to me, his lips against mine automatically

"Mm princess", he whines, giving me lots of little kisses on my lips but denying me his tongue

For now

Such a little shit

"Yeosang and I are gonna play ok?"

I nod, knowing how much him, Yeosang and San love tag team me

Wooyoung pulls me in his lap in a reverse cowgirl, then pulls me down against him, my back against his hard chest

I turn my head to him, kissing him as he moves his cock to my hole

I push down on him just as I slide my tongue in his mouth, against his, swallowing the moan he lets out

Moving my arm around his neck, I keep his head in place, his lips firmly against mine

No teasing right now

His hands touch my body, one wrapping around my left boob, the other sliding down to my pussy, his fingers playing with my clit

More pleasure explodes in my body, my pussy squirting juice as I fully take him inside me

"Oh god princess", he groans against my lips, "You're so fucking perfect"

"So are you Woo", I murmur, squeezing his fat cock tightly

I feel lips on my lower stomach and I break the kiss with Wooyoung, watching Yeosang kiss up my body slowly

"Mm jagi", he groans, his tongue licking my skin, "Such soft skin baby. Sweat tastes so good"

"Mmm Yeo", I groan, my body trembling as his mouth reaches my nipple

He sucks on it, bliss blasting everywhere, my cunt choking Wooyoung's cock

"Ffff", Wooyoung groans, his fingers digging into my other boob

Yeosang let's go of my nipple a minute later, his lips crashing into mine, his tongue down my throat

I wrap my free hand around his neck, pulling him closer, his body on top of mine

I feel him move his cock to my hole, pushing inside

I've taken both of them before so this is nothing new

But the pleasure is always incredible

He slides in, opening me up as wide as he can, my body arching off of Wooyoung's, moaning in Yeosang's mouth, my body shaking uncontrollably in ecstacy

I feel so satisfyingly full when he gets all in, my pussy trying to clench down on both cocks inside me

"God, always so fucking tight", Yeosang groans, "Fuck jagi, whether it's one cock or two, your always tight"

"Mmm", I moan, my brain not able to think of words to say

"Ready to wreck our princess?", Wooyoung asks Yeosang

"So ready", Yeosang agrees

I feel both their cocks slide out, my pussy desperately trying to latch on and keep them inside

Then suddenly I'm full to bursting as they thrust back in at the same time, pleasure crashing over me

I scream their names as they move quickly, stroke after stroke, one of their heads hitting my spot each time

"God she's so good", Wooyoung groans

"Mmm...fuck, she's creaming our cocks so much. Never seen this much cream from her pussy before"

"Fuck, I wanna see", Wooyoung whines, although he's seen it plenty of times when their places are switched

Yeosang sits up slightly, his hands around my boobs squeezing, fingers pinching my nipples, adding to the bliss

His eyes are on mine, watching me with a smirk on his gorgeous face

While Wooyoung's hand is between Yeosang and I, rubbing my clit as they fuck me, driving me crazy

I'm aware that Wooyoung's other hand is squeezing my hip as he moans in my ear

As for me, one of my hands is gripping Yeosang's back, the other gripping Wooyoung's side, my nails buried in their skin as they fuck me like a rag doll

My head is in the clouds, I can't tell where they and I start, it's all just one big thing of pleasure

"Mmm baby's all fucked out", Yeosang laughs, their hips not stopping

"Yeah and her pussy is gonna cum. You feel how tighter she is?"

"Yeah, clenching so desperately. Such a good pussy for us"

"Such a good girl", Wooyoung agrees, "Is she scratching you up too?"

"Yeah. Feels good"

I hear their words but my brain isn't connecting that I'm scratching them

I'm too far gone to make sense of it right now

All I know is I'm gonna cum and it's going to be a massive orgasm

The thrust again and I lose all of my senses as wave after wave of ecstasy tidal waves over my body

I'm aware I'm screaming their names, I'm aware I'm squirting but I can't control anything, just ride the waves of utter bliss

"Yes good girl", Yeosang praises, his hand running in my hair, kissing my face, while Wooyoung kisses my neck

"Such a good princess", Wooyoung coos, "Feels so fucking good baby"

"Yeah, fuck I'm gonna cum", Yeosang groans

"Me too", Wooyoung moans

I feel both cocks move inside me then hot cum filling me and leaking out of my pussy

"Yes Joanne, fuck jagi", Yeosang groans

"Princess, Jo, mmmm....so good", Wooyoung whines

I feel so exhausted, my body sore as the pleasure fades

Yeosang kisses my lips softly, tells me he loves me, then pulls out and moves off me

Wooyoung whispers "I love you" in my ear, kisses my cheek then slips out from under me, laying me on the bed

I couldn't move if I wanted to

I need a few minutes to get the feeling back in my body

I feel a warm wet towel on my pussy, one of them cleaning the mess in my cunt while hands are on my thighs, massaging my achy muscles

After a few minutes, I feel like I'm able to move again

But before I do, I feel a wet tongue on my pussy, licking slowly up, rolling over my clit, zapping pleasure back into me

I know who it is without looking

But I gaze down away, seeing his warm brown eyes on mine as his tongue runs up and down my pussy

Seonghwa

He's huge on oral

Loves to eat me out as much as he can

Always does it before we have sex

Hell, even when we're not having sex, he just wants his mouth on me

And I'll take it every time

He is the king of oral and knows just what to do to get me seeing stars

"Hwannie", I whimper, moving my fingers in his soft black hair

"Tastes so good jagi", he murmurs, flicking my clit back and forth, "Love eating your pussy baby"

I smile at him, watching his tongue slide up and down, getting more turned on

He pushes his face more into my cunt, his tongue slipping inside, making me clench around it

"Fuck", he groans, lightly tongue fucking me, "So fucking good. Making me so hard baby"

"Mm Hwa, gonna fuck me too?", I ask, shivers running up my back, "Gonna give me your big fat cock too?"

"Yes", he moans, his mouth wrapping around my clit, sucking once, my body arching from just that one move, "Gonna make you cream on my face jagi. Cum all over my tongue. Then I'm gonna make you cum on my cock"

He sucks faster, the bliss increasing

"Gonna cum in my pussy Hwannie? Fill me with you cum?"

"Yes jagi, fuck yes", he whines, slurping desperately on my clit, his jaw moving so hypnotically with each move

My legs shake around his head, my breathing increasing as he gets me closer

God, the fucking mouth on this man is incredible

Sucking harshly, I'm thrown head first into a mind blowing orgasm, my body arching, incredible pleasure running through my veins, my mouth screaming his name uncontrollably

"Seonghwa! Seonghwa! Seonghwa!"

He sucks on me a few more times then slides his tongue down into my cunt, my pussy throbbing around it immediately

"Oh god yes Hwa", I cry, tears running down my face from the bliss

His tongue keeps moving as he swallows my cum, moaning how good I taste

After he cleans my pussy, he kisses up my body, my skin jumping with every press of his lips

He moves on top of me just as his lips press against mine, shivers running up my spine

He licks my lip, his tongue against mine, his mouth moving as he kisses me deeply

He moves my legs around his waist, his cock pushing in

As soon as his head is in, my pussy locks around him, squeezing tightly

He groans as he slips inside, forcing me open around his thick cock

I feel every inch slide in, my pussy becoming wetter and wetter, sucking his length inside

I move my arms around his back, holding him tightly, my body arching into his

He groans, his arm wrapping around my waist, keeping me against him as he bottoms out, his head right against my spot

He pulls back, tingles running through my body at the drag of his fat cock, my legs squeezing his waist tighter

He thrust in slow but deep, his cock plunging in my pussy, hitting my spot, pleasure crashing around me

He keeps his strokes deep, getting a perfect pace going, not too fast, not too slow

I'm soon in complete bliss, moaning in between kisses, gripping his back, my other hand sliding in the back of his hair, fingers tangling in the strands

"So good jagi", he murmurs, in between kisses, "You fit perfectly around my cock baby. Made for me"

I nod, moaning a yes, then kissing him again, wanting nothing but his lips against mine

His head rubs against my spot over and over, the pleasure building until I snap, crashing right into another orgasm, clinging onto him as I ride the bliss

"Hwa", I moan against his lips, a groan coming for him as he sheaths his cock inside me, throbbing wonderfully then shooting him cum in deep, "Hwannie"

"Jo fuck jagi", he whimpers, grinding into me as my pussy sucks his cock dry, "I love you"

"I love you Hwa"

He looks down at me, smiling softly, presses a kiss to my cheek,

Then he pulls out and moves off me, Mingi coming to stand at the edge of the bed, looking at me shyly

"Can you ride me aegi?"

"Of course baby", I smile, tugging his hand and getting him to lay down

I start to climb on him but he stops me

"Other way aegi"

I smirk, "Oh, you wanna watch my pussy fuck you?"

He bite his lips nodding

"Ok baby but first I want a kiss"

He smiles brightly, pulling me down to him, his lips against mine

The kiss turns desperate, our tongues playing with each others, his mouth constantly moving

"Please", he whispers against my lips, "Please, need you"

I run my fingers in his hair, smiling at him, "Anything for you baby"

I get on him in a reverse cowgirl position, leaning over on the bed, giving him a good view of my cunt

"Fuck aegi", he groans as I hold his cock in place so I can sit on it

My pussy is wet with juice and Seonghwa's cum so it's easier to get him in

I still push down hard because Mingi's cock is one of the biggest with Yunho's slightly bigger

But I still get him all in every time

I love feeling full of him, love feeling like he's in my stomach

"Oh god baby", he groans, as I slip him in, "Fuck, that tiny hole spreading so wide for my cock. So pretty. God I love how tight you are"

"Mmm yeah baby", I groan, sitting fully on his dick, rocking back and forth, using his head to rub my spot

"Yes, yes, yes", he cries, his hands squeezing my ass, his hips bucking up, keeping himself completely buried in my pussy

I change my movements, grinding on his cock, each pass of his head on my spot making me pulse down hard, feeling fucking amazing

"Jagi", I hear in front of me

I look up to find Yunho in front of me, his hand around his very hard cock, slit dripping cum, "It hurts baby. I need a little....can you-"

I nod, waving him closer, knowing exactly what he needs

He gets on the bed in front of me, my hand replacing his, my mouth around his fat head, licking and swallowing his cum

So good

I begin sucking softly, his pretty groans reaching my ears

"Baby", Mingi whines and I begin to bounce on his cock while sucking off Yunho

I've done this plenty of times before, so I had a lot of practice at coordinating movements

I slide slowly up Mingi's cock, purposely clenching his length as I do

When I get to his head, I surge down, taking him all in one shot, my ass hitting his legs with a loud smack

I repeat these movements, bliss running through my body, making sure my spot gets stimulated each bounce

At the same time, I suck more of Yunho's dick into my mouth, jerking off the rest of him in time to my sucking

"Yes jagi", Yunho groans, his hand in my hair, holding on, his face in pleasure as he watches me, his chest heaving

I decided to stop teasing him and push down his length, bottoming him out in my throat

"God jagi", he whines, my mouth sucking on him hard while I move on Mingi's cock, Mingi whimpering in pleasure behind me

Fuck, I love having two big hard cocks inside me, fucking both my pussy and throat open

I move my head back and forth, bobbing on Yunho's dick, while I bounce on Mingi, taking him deep inside me

As if they read each other's minds, Mingi starts thrusting up into my cunt as I come down, holding me in place as he fucks my pussy just as Yunho holds my head still and starts throat fucking me

Tears run down my eyes from the intense ecstasy, letting both of them use me how they want

And enjoying every second of it

The wet sound of my pussy taking Mingi's cock mixes with the wet sound of Yunho fucking my throat and it's so pornographic, turning me on more

My head gets fuzzy as I'm thoroughly fucked, each stroke of their cocks bringing me closer and closer

"Pussy's gonna cum", Mingi shouts, his hips moving faster, wrecking my hole

Both thrust in again, euphoria throwing me into an earth shattering orgasm

I scream on Yunho's cock, both of them fucking me through it, both yelling at how good I feel

My arms shake violently, almost giving out as my orgasm keeps going

Mingi's throbbing cock slams up, his cum filling me as he screams my name

Yunho's cock continues to pummel my throat, spit all over his cock, leaking onto the bed

"I'm gonna cum!", Yunho yells, "Wanna cum in her pussy!"

I'm pulled off Mingi, turned around, my face against Mingi's chest as Yunho shoves his thick cock in from behind me, splitting my hole wide open

He pounds in repeatedly, my cunt still sensitive from the orgasm Mingi gave me that it doesn't take long before I'm coming again on Yunho's cock, screaming in bliss against Mingi's skin, Mingi's fingers running in my hair

"Yes yes yes", he growls, thrusting in and coming inside me, "Joanne, jagi fuck, I love you"

I feel his cum leak out from my cunt as my pussy twitches around him

He finishes and pulls out, my body shaking slightly on it's own

Mingi kisses my cheek, whispering an "I love you" before he moves away, putting me on the bed

I'm laying face down on the bed, hands running up and down my back

"Jagi", Jongho says softly, "Can you handle more?"

Of course I can

I'm not stopping until all my guys are satisfied

I still have Jongho and Hongjoong left

I'm not leaving them out

"Yeah baby", I answer

"Stay just like this baby", he says, moving his arm around my waist, holding my ass up, "I'll take you this way so you can rest"

"Are you sure baby?"

"Yeas jagi. I got you"

I murmur in agreement, glad that I can at least lay down for now and save my energy

I know Hongjoong is gonna want me to ride him

It's his favorite position and I'll always give him, give them all what they want

Jongho likes it from behind so this is perfect for him

I feel his cock tight at my hole, going inside slowly

Chills run up my spine as he gets in, my pussy spasming on his dick, relishing the way he opens my cunt

Jongho is massively thick, almost too big for me and normally he has to push hard to get in

I'm just soaking wet and full of cum, making it easy for him to slip in

He pulls out slowly, pleasure sparking up my spine, tears falling down my face

He thrusts back inside slowly, making sure he bottoms out, going in so deep

"Jongho", I cry, each stroke so fucking good

I should be overstimulated but because I fuck them all regularly, I'm used to this many orgasms, this much pleasure

Jongho keeps his steady rhythm and I find myself moving back on him as he thrusts in, spreading my legs wider

His pelvis hits my ass over and over, the sound washing over me

"Fuck your pussy is so wet baby. Such a big fucking mess in there", he groans, "Gonna let me leave a mess in there too?"

"Yes Jonghie, want your mess in my pussy", I whine, my fingers twisting in the sheets, "Fuck want it so bad"

Him and I move together, his fingers sliding down to my clit, rubbing and sending me head first into my orgasm, squirting all over him

"Fff...fuck Jo!", he cries, shoving his cock in, coming in my cunt, feeling so good

When we finish, he pulls out, turning me on my back, leaning down, his soft lips against mine in a hard but sweet kiss

"I love you", he tells me

"I love you too Jonghie", I smile tiredly

He kisses my forehead, then moves off the bed

I lift my head looking for Hongjoong

"I'm here jagi", he says softly, sitting next to me, "It's ok baby, we don't have to. I know you're tired"

Not tired enough to stop

"No baby", I answer, sitting up

"Baby it's ok", he repeats

I shake my head, getting in his lap, facing him, cupping his cheek, tilting his head back, his gorgeous brown eyes on mine

"I need you Joongie", I tell him, then press my lips to his, "I need my captain"

He kisses me like he can't get enough, his tongue against mine, arms wrapped around my body, fingers tangling in my hair

As I kiss him, I sink down on his dick, my hole stretching for him

His breath hitches as he stops kissing me, moaning in my mouth but keeping his lips against mine

I bounce on his dick, his hands sliding down my back, gripping my ass as I ride him

My mind is completely shutting off as I get fucked out on his cock

He's so hard, having to sit, wait and watch the other guys with me

He has the patience of a saint

I keep my arms around his neck, fingers buried in his hair, both of us breathing hard against each other's lips, his cock expertly fucking me open, his fat head against my spot again and again

My legs burn from riding and being open for so long but I'm not stopping

He feels too good and he deserves this

"Jjjj...jagi ..can you ..", he trails off

"Yeah baby", I agree, "Lay back for me"

He moves back on his elbows, his head tilted back, his neck exposed to me

Leaning forward, I press a kiss to his beauty mark that I love, then sit back up

Increasing my speed, I ride him hard, my hand moving around his neck

Squeezing his neck, his body stiffens, shaking under me as I cut his air off

I make sure I slam my cunt down on him hard and fast, grinding on his cock when I take him back in

Letting go of his neck, he breathes in, whining that it feels good

I choke him again, watching him get closer

Letting him breathe, he opens his eyes, tears falling down his beautiful face

Tears of my own fall because of the pleasure he's giving me, his cock throbbing so fast, hard and pleasurably inside me

His hand moves to my clit, rubbing softly, my pussy gripping his cock in a vice grip, completely soaking him, the ecstasy increasing

"Jagi", he sobs, his body shaking under me, "Please jagi"

"Cum for me Joongie", I whisper, choking him again, bouncing and sending him into his orgasm

I watch him fall apart under me, the sight so gorgeous as he pumps my pussy full of cum

He's still rubbing my clit and that stimulation plus feeling him fill me makes me snap

I cry out his name, sobbing hard as I climax around his cock for the last time tonight

Letting go of his neck, his scream of my name shatters the silence, his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me against him as he lays down

I bury my face in his neck, staying on top of him, both of us crying as the ecstasy slowly leaves us

Cuddling into him, I close my eyes, both of us staying still as we try to catch our breath

My body is dead weight and I can't move at all

I'm exhausted

"I love you jagi", he whispers

"I love you Joongie"

"Stay with me?", he asks

"Yeah baby", I agree, wanting to stay in his arms

"She'll sleep here with me tonight", Hongjoong says tiredly, holding me tightly against him

"Really?", Yeosang whines

"Yeah", Hongjoong answers, "She can't get up right now. She's exhausted. And I'm already holding her. I'm not giving her up tonight. I want to stay with her"

I smile against his neck, giving him a soft peck

"Fine but she's with me tomorrow", Yunho says

"Then me", Yeosang calls

The rest of them call a day for me to sleep with them, a smile forming on my face from how much they want me

Showing me I mean more to them than just sex

It gives me a warm joyful feeling inside

"Ok shoo", Hongjoong says after the schedule is made, "Come say good night to her

"There's food on the table if she's hungry", Seonghwa tells Hongjoong

"And water and Gatorade", Mingi says, "In the fridge"

"Ok", Hongjoong answers

"Night jagi", Seonghwa says, coming over and kissing my lips softly, "I love you"

"I love you Hwa. Night"

"Good night naekkeo. I love you", San coos, kissing my cheek, then my lips

"Night Sannie and I love you"

One by one they all come to say good night, tell me they love me and kiss me

And I tell each one of them I love them because I do

My heart has enough room for all of them and I can't live without any of them

The rest of the guys leave and after a few minutes, Hongjoong sits up with me in his lap

He reaches for the phone and dials

"Hi, yeah can you come and change the sheets, blankets and pillows? My dumb friends spilled alcohol all over it. I'm gonna take a shower so you guys can just come in. Thanks"

He's smart

He hangs up the phone, then stands up with me

We go into the bathroom and he turns the water on in the bathtub

"What are you doing Joongie"

"Taking care of my jagi"

"You don't have to baby"

He really doesn't

None of them have to but they all take turns with aftercare

From getting me food, to cleaning me up, to showering or taking a bath with me, each one of them has taken care of me more than once from the first time I slept with them

And when they're exhausted, either from sex or from their work, I take care of them

"Of course I do", he says softly, "I love you jagi, I want to take care of you"

"I love you too Joongie", I smile

He smiles his gorgeous smile, taking my breath away

He tucks hair behind my ear, saying, "Besides, the people are coming to change the bedding and you need a hot bath to relax in"

"You're staying with me right?"

He nods, "Of course baby"

When the rub is full, Hongjoong gets both of us in the tub, me sitting in-between his legs and laying back on him

He leans my head back on his shoulder, kissing my neck, his hands massaging my shoulders

It feels so good against my achy muscles

He makes sure to massage my arms and my legs too, making my muscles looser

Then he just holds me, his arms around my waist, his head leaning against mine

It's so comfortable, his strong arms feeling so good around me

I don't know how long we stay in the bath for but when we get out the water is cold

We heard the staff come in and change the sheets so we can go to sleep now

Hongjoong dries me off then carries me back into the room, laying me in the bed

He turns off all the lights, then gets into bed beside me, pulling the blanket around us

His arm wraps around me as I lay my head on his shoulder, my face against his neck, our legs tangled, cuddling into each other

"Night jagi", he murmurs, kissing my forehead, "I love you"

"I love you", I answer, kissing his jaw, "Night baby"

Closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep in my captain's arms

[one-of-tankhuns-neurons]

I cannot let this show go without writing my goodbyes... Deep Night Final EP

Deep night was everything and more. It was a show that was made with insane love, thought and care and it fucking shows. That loves shines through the screen and it is GUARANTEED to warm your cold dead heart. Cheewin has always made his shows a bit more grounded, a bit more queer, a bit more real. Since YYY you can just tell there's someone in the crew that understands queer experience and this was it again. The good parts, the sad parts, the struggle without exploting it for pity. It showcased confusion and acceptance and love and love and love. So many different kinds of love.

Wela and Khemtid

These two developed so beautifully, from people who misunderstood eachother, to people who felt attracted to each other but still didn't get it, to people who listened, apologized, leaned on, supported, loved, cared for eachother. Khemtid's enchantment with wela blossomed after they fought about Wela's job, he realized that acceptance was the better route to take and he just worked hard to get it right, to make up for it, to help. Wela at the same time tried so hard as well to understand Khem's feelings, making it easier for them to reach the middle ground. He worked so hard with Khem to keep the club afloat, he was never mean to his coworkers, he carried the whole world on his back and still stood proud. They went from strangers to these two adorable dorks who hold hands and smile while kissing. I'm sorry but Khemtid smiling like he just won the world while giving his injured bboyfriend a handjob at the back of the club made my heart burn. That's complicity and partnership and mischief and intimacy. They stand on equal ground and that's so meaningful to me.

Then we have these three dorks

The true rivals to lovers. I talked about this in my previous Deep Night post but it was brilliant. Their storyline developed so subtly and naturally I cried last week. The way Japan and Ken's love bloomed out of love for Seiji... like it's not that they're just dating Seiji, they're dating eachother and that comes from a trust that developed from and understanding, that grew from care into desire. Last week's episode showing Japan as the center of his fantasy showed that, Japan is also attracted to Ken, and Ken's heart has melted for Japan as well, unknowingly. The talk they had was so necessary, so respectful and rooted on concern and an actual attempt to build something that left no one out. Seriously the way they're sitting in the end, with Ken brushing Japans hand, the way Japan held Ken's hand and brought him into the hug to welcome him, to shelter him. I love that it wasn't fetishized. (Because we've tackeled threesomes before in other shows but not romantic love) I love them, they love each other, this is healing.

Freya and Meiji

They are EVERYTHING. Honestly the role of women, specifically queer women in queer spaces has been overlooked for way too long. They take on the role of caring, protecting and supporting the whole club, the boys themselves and themselves. The fact that Freya's character was divorced and was constantly under attack from her ex-husbands family now existing with a same-sex partner was so complex yet beautifuly handled. Meiji was not just some random chic they threw in to gay it up, she was important to Freya, she helped at the club, she wasn't much around but when she was on screen she was Freya's rock. The talk on age... bro that shook me to the bone. Media is so focused on youth their questioning was so valid and so painful to watch... but it healed. Fuck I'm crying watching this. Everyone deserves to be loved by THEMSELVES.

Khem and Freya

gET TF OUT I WANT TO BE ALONE this mother-son relationship was amazing. Both characters grew so much out of love for each other I want to swallow a shotgun. The was it was alway Freya trying to gain Khemtids approval was so heartbreaking, and watching Khemtid LEARN to accept and love his mom, accept and love the club, accept and love the role they play... fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK

Also we cannot forget Dai

I don't even have words to explain how great this character was. Outfits on point, personality strong and unmoving, loud and authentic and accepted and part of everything and capable and necessary and just EVERYTHING. And the fact that Dai was perceived as a potential love interest for Freya without it being a joke or mockery was gold. Apart from that, all of these characters and storylines are interwoven in a net of complexity, social norms, real struggles but also real coping mechanisms. I also want to LOUDLY RECOGNIZE the work put into it, as they all worked hard to actually get on stage and perform acrobatics like their characters. There was just so much attention to detail and to making things right I want to cry just thinking about it. Please please please if you havent... Watch it. It may not be revolutionary but it's perfect to me. Deep night is a very queer show that decided to open a lot of wounds just to let them heal properly. THANK YOU DEEP NIGHT. I expected nothing from you and you're now part of me.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Mmmm, this is SO incredible. I wish I would've transitioned sooner. Being a femboy was fun but now I look so incredible! I'm even hornier than before, and look at these sexy little tits I've grown. My ass is getting fatter, now it's so much more satisfying to get fucked in the ass. Guys go crazy for that extra bit of cushion to pound their cocks into. And with wider hips and a bigger ass, my clothes fit so sexily now. It turned my bony little guy butt into something dudes get hard over in public. They're so much more aggressive now that I look so much more like a girl! They spank me, touch my hips, push their cocks against me. And then we might be standing on a train, or on a subway platform, and they'll put their hands down my jeans or up my skirt, and feel my tiny shrunken cock. They'll smile when they feel it and tell me what a naughty slut I am, some just call me a perverted boy, which I find really hot. Then once they find it they always spin me around and aggressively fuck my ass as a reward for being a naughty little femboy--I mean trans girl! Oops. I'm not gonna lie, though, I already told my doctor I'm bummed my cock shrank four inches. I told him I want a big fat cock that's hard to hide, but I also want bigger boobs and a fatter ass. He upped my doses, so we'll see how sexy I look in another year or two.... wish me luck! ❤️"

"Feast your eyes on my lovely body two years after my doctor upped my hormones. Notice a couple changes? When he said I'll look just like a woman after taking these hormones for a while, he wasn't kidding! I look like a total cow who's popped out fifty kids. Almost every dude that fucks me now asks how pregnant I am, or how many kids I've pumped out. I try to show them my cock but my belly is soooo heavy it's hard for me to lift! My cock is about fourteen inches but good luck finding it buried under all that fat.

My tits a big and saggy, and my cute bubble butt is now just a pile of lard and cottage cheese. I guess this is what I get for being curious and taking hormones to look more feminine and be more appealing to fuck as a femboy. My doctor is over the moon with my transition, telling me how incredible I look. Whenever I get new sores, or complain that I can hardly get up without help, or my blood pressure is higher, he tells me how much more feminine I'm becoming, because a woman's true role is to become a stationary sex object to be acted on, or some such. I don't disagree but couldn't I be one of those girls pinned to her bed by her giant breasts or something?

I've become so fat doing basic things like bathing or going to the bathroom are becoming impossible. I moved back in with my parents, who love how my transition is going. Guess they always wanted a hugely fat daughter to tend to. Almost all I do is sit at home watching porn as I binge eat. It's not uncommon for me to be woken up by breakfast in bed, then without bathing my parents will guide me downstairs to the couch or chair. They'll bring me more food as they put on porn for me to watch. Ever since I went on all these hormones it's the only thing that can hold my attention span.... I used to jerk off a bunch, but now I groan and wince through heart palpitations and I try to lift my belly and fondle my cock. Sometimes I just push my belly down and kind of 'crush' my cock, which feels really nice.

My parents bring me more food as I make a pool of cum form under me. I'll usually just use the bathroom where I am. It's so gross but I'm getting used to sitting in my own mess for hours a day. My cute butt and tiny cock, now mounds of lard and a rock-hard monster getting caked in my own bodily fluids and excrement as I binge eat and masturbate for hours. Sometimes I eat so much I puke all over my hugely fattened body, and my parents will just smile and bring me more to eat. I guess wanting to be more fem was kind of a double edged sword. It was nice being a curvy 200-300lbs for a while, going to clubs, getting fucked every night. Though a lot of those guys joked and warned me, like a bunch of other trans girls they used to fuck, I'd wind up becoming 700+lbs in no time. I laughed and said there's no way...... I guess this is what I am now. A total pig, pushing her heart to the bursting point just to make her cock cum over and over all day..... what a perfect gooner I've become. No wonder I watch so much porn of hot girls like I used to be just calling the viewer a fat, pathetic slob."

[vodika-vibes]

I would love to see Wrecker with Topaz in the winter! Warm soup, cozy fireside snuggles, and just sheer cuteness! 💕

Silent Night

Summary: After Wrecker and the Batch’s Medic are stranded in the middle of a winter wonderland, Wrecker decides to make the best of it.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 725

Warnings: None

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: This one fought me at every turn. I knew what I wanted it to say, but I'm not sure I managed to make it as soft and sweet as I wanted. Oh well, Happy reading!

“You know, you’re pretty good at this, Doc.” Wrecker says with a grin as his gaze drifts from the fish he’s cleaning, to where the team medic is crouching next to a roaring fire. 

The light from the orange flames gives her an almost ethereal look, and Wrecker has a look away before he gets too distracted. “Well,” She admits as she clears a space of snow, as best as she can, and pulls the tent out of his kit, “Mom and dad divorced when I was a kid. And while mom had a nice house, dad wasn’t so lucky. So his weekends were usually spent camping.”

“So you could probably clean this fish then?” Wrecker asks, as he glances at her curiously.

She smiles sheepishly, “Well, dad did show me how, but you’re doing a wonderful job.”

He grins at her, and sets his knife to the side, “Well, as it happens, I’m done anyway. You have everything set up?”

“Yep. Just toss everything in the pot.”

Wrecker does as she instructs, and watches as she adds a few packets of seasoning, as well as some dehydrated vegetables, “I’m guessing your dad had you doing most of the cooking?”

“Yeah. Well, he wasn’t very good at cooking, really. So it was either learn to cook, or me and my siblings were going to end up with tapeworms or something.” Wrecker sits on the flat rock that she found…somewhere…and starts cleaning his knife.

“You know, you don’t talk about your family often.”

She glances at him, “Well, there’s not really much to say, is there?” She drops the contents of a second package into the pot, and then sits next to Wrecker, “My family is just average.”

“I’m not sure what an average family is,” Wrecker points out, “Though I bet Tech could tell me.”

She laughs, “Right, right. Well, there’s mom. She was a housewife up until she and dad got divorced, and then she got a job at the local elementary school getting me and my siblings free tuition. Dad was a firefighter who had a gambling issue. And then there’s the kids, my other brother, me, and our younger sister.”

“Well, you’re a doctor. What do your siblings do?”

“My brother is a chef at some big name restaurant on Coruscant. My sister is trying to become an actress, though she’s only really starred in commercials.” She shrugs, “Like I said, normal. Your family is so much more interesting.”

He laughs, “That’s one word for them.” Wrecker finishes cleaning his knife and stashes it away, “Are you comfortable?”

“Hm?”

“It’s kind of cold.” Wrecker points out.

“Oh, I’m alright. The fire is helping, and Hunter insisted I wear cold weather gear for this mission.” She hesitates, “Do…do you think-?”

“I’m sure they’re fine. Tech is there, after all.” Wrecker drapes an arm over her shoulder and tugs her against his side, “We’re the ones who have to camp outside in the snow.”

She smiles shyly, “I’m not worried.”

“No?”

“I have you here, don’t I?” She asked with a small, almost flirty, smile.

Wrecker’s heart flips nervously, “I…uh…”

She tilts her head, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Nah, Doc. I’m just…I’m not Hunter or Crosshair, I’m not used to flirting.” Wrecker admits.

“I’ll stop, if you want.”

“Well now, I didn’t say that.”

She laughs, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, “I like you, Wrecker. You’re fun and you make me laugh and you make me feel safe. I’d like to go on a proper date with you, if I can.”

Wrecker blinks at her, “You…you do?”

“Yeah, if it’s alright.”

“We don’t really…there isn’t much time for proper dating-” Wrecker stammers, “And I don’t get paid-”

“I do get paid, and, well, it doesn’t have to be a big thing, Wrecker. I just want to spend time with you.”

“Well, in that case, can’t this be considered a date?” Wrecker points out.

She looks startled for a moment, and then she beams at him, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” She lifts to her knees slightly and presses a light kiss against his cheek, before she settles next to him again.

Wrecker presses his hand against his burning cheek, a wide grin that he isn’t even trying to stifle. 

Being stranded here isn’t as bad as it could be.

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Sixteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen

AO3 Link

Author's Note: And we're back! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I took some time away. I'm honestly glad I did. TL;DR (or read the update in the previous chapter) I lost my job, things were rough. I'm feeling a lot better now and here we are with the final Aegon birthday chapter! As I stated as well, we'll be moving to something closer to a three week posting schedule for the last few chapters of this fic and continue on that posting schedule for the sequel.

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my eternal love to @vampire-exgirlfriend, whose been my rock. I love you. Please go join her as she finishes up her Aemond fic, They Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)!

Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You

Aegon's birthday hunt includes some fantastic girl action and some murder! OH! And Some Jacelaena biting. You love to see it.

Floris Baratheon could not sit still, clutching her bow and quiver, peering out the carriage window as they approached the Kingswood. “A-hunting we shall go, a-hunting we shall go-”

“Hi-Ho the derry-o, a-hunting we shall go,” Abby sang in turn, the song a familiar one from childhood. The Baratheon girl had been quite annoyed that she could not ride a horse the way the other men did, but with the promise that she would not have to sit with her sister in a carriage, she had been content enough.

Abby sat beside Lythene Ryger, who had been quite speechless at the invite to the carriage. Wylla would have normally been with them, but with her soon to be good-sister, Alys Bracken, coming along, she was off playing chaperone and overly curious and mischievous younger sister to Alys and Harrion. Abby was glad she had the opportunity to do so, for her dear friend was giving up much to stay in the south as her Mistress of Keys instead of returning home to the Karhold.

On the other side of Helaena, Margaery Crane of Red Lake sat. Her lush, light brown hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her face was square with large, unnervingly green eyes. Her head was bent towards Helaena’s, threads of evergreen and butter yellow woven in her fingers as she taught the princess how to finger knit. It was an easier pastime during the long carriage ride to the camp than Helaena’s embroidery. Her twin sister, Desmara, sat on Abby’s other side. The only difference between the pair was her dark, chestnut hair and the scar across her full mouth.

“I’m sure if you ask Daeron when he goes out with the party, he’ll retrieve the stag antlers for you,” Helaena said, her eyes focused on the thread between her fingers. “He’ll love the opportunity to prove himself.” Floris rolled her eyes in only the way a girl of one and ten could, her black braid wrapped around her head with stubborn tendrils escaping. She tugged on the ties of her raven black cloak.

“Nay, Your Grace,” she said primly. “I would show my own mettle, and face the stag myself.” Her cheeks were pink all the same. Abby bit her lip to hold back her chuckle, not wanting to tease the girl. She caught Desmara’s own amused look, the scar across her mouth pulling at her own smile.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll let you go hunting the stag, Lady Floris,” she said. Floris looked pleased at the kind address from the elder girl. “But we’ll be going hawking and the spoils are certainly yours. That’s how I obtained the rabbit fur for my gloves.”

“That’s true,” Abby chimed in. “And you are a child of Nightsong, are you not? I’m sure falconry is in your blood.” Floris’ mother was a Caron, with a lineage of fierce warriors nestled in the Dornish Marches. Lady Ellyn Caron had songs sung of her, and how she, in part with other lords of the Stormlands, defeated the Vulture King. It was exactly the kind of family lineage Abby could see Floris idolizing.

Floris nodded seriously, running her fingers along her bow. “This is true. I suppose I should practice.”

“Practice until you come back dragging the stag behind you,” Helaena continued. “My elder sister is said to have taken down a boar with her own hands, only a dagger as a weapon. I think you have that same mettle in you.”

Floris preened, leaning into Helaena’s side to watch the magical weaving of the yarn. Abby’s heart ached with fondness for the girl, pleased that she had been taken on as Helaena’s ward. The girl was not meant to be stuck behind her three eldest sisters. The Smallest Storm would blossom, she hoped, beneath Helaena’s care and attention. It did not go past Abby’s notice of Cassandra’s harsh attentions to her sister. It reminded her of her own sister’s lack of understanding; always critical, always focused on some perception that her behavior would reflect poorly upon her. Floris was exuberant and curious, but she was not into reckless mischief or excessive rudeness.

She’d be good for Helaena. More importantly, had been good for Helaena, who had taken on Margaery Crane as one of her new ladies, and Abby would take Desmara. The Crane twins had endeared themselves quickly, Margaery introducing herself by way of teaching Helaena a new fiber art, and Desmara had gifted Abby a book on Asshai, a knowing wink in her verdant green eyes.

As the carriage pulled into the camp, cheers had already started from the other gathered lords and ladies. “With all that noise, they’re sure to scare away all their quarry,” Abby laughed, peering out the window to look on ahead.

The boys had ridden on horseback, Aegon in the lead on Kostōba, Aemond, Daeron, and Jace on their own horses beside him, with their own small retinue. Their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, was with them, as were a few other lordlings that Abby was unfamiliar with. She spied Alyn Hull’s silver braids from where he was on his own horse, smiling at the sight of the brash young man there within Aegon’s retinue. He had been a true friend to the prince over the years and it was good to see him brought into the fold officially.

Alyn would serve as steward when they departed for Harrenhal, taking on the household duties from Uncle Simon and learning under him. Aegon had been pleased that he’d agreed to the offer, brushing off his mother’s gape mouthed indignation about it. “He’s the reason I still live, Mother,” Aegon had said, unusually mild in the face of Alicent Hightower’s anger that morning as they broke their fast. He’d brushed a kiss against her forehead, and Abby wondered if he had found strength in the security they were building between them, that not even his mother could shake.

Seeing Aegon’s confidence was intoxicating, so rarely did he come off so sure of himself, and she craved to see more of it. Her teeth scraped her lower lip, belly rolling with heat.

“Good tidings to Prince Aegon, second of his name!” came the booming voice of his Uncle Hobart, leading the call of cheers. “Good tidings to him on his nameday!”

“Good tidings!” came the call of the gathered crowd. “Prince Aegon!”

As Abby settled back in her seat to wait for the footmen, she caught Helaena’s gaze. Anxiety crackled between them, mixed with the joy and love there for Aegon’s nameday. After the hunt, Abby was certain Helaena would cocoon in her chambers, barring the door should anyone try to get her into another crowd. Abby didn’t blame her, and in fact, might even join her for a bit.

The cheers had begun to die down by the time Daeron’s smiling face helped them out of the carriage. Windswept, dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he bowed. “Allow me, my sister, ladies.”

As he helped Floris from the carriage, their eyes met, both faces going pink at the cheeks, and Abby saw her future good-brother’s hand tighten slightly around the girl’s fingers for the briefest of moments before her feet met the ground and she pulled away, her eyes on her shoes. It was not often that Floris fell quiet and blushed so red, and it did not appear that anyone else had noticed. Daeron clenched his hands to himself and his eyes met hers, his own flush deepening before he quickly hurried away.

The king had stayed behind in the Keep, as did several lords and their families. Lord Grover’s health had also kept him behind. Lord Otto had stayed to facilitate court, leaving the festivities that day in Aegon and the queen’s hands.

Her hands, Abby knew, as young ladies of the noble houses began to approach her and the princess, a few mothers in tow.

“Baela’s a Targaryen too,” Helaena muttered. “Why can’t they flock to her?”

The lady in question had rode on horseback, her red leather jerkin fitted against her lithe form over a gray tunic and black breeches tucked into black polished boots. The rings in her hair glinted in the late morning sun, sparkling as she turned her head with a laugh and dismounted her mare by Jace. Abby shook her head.

“Because they’re afraid she’ll be a bad influence, I’m sure. How are they supposed to get husbands if they dress comfortably?” Abby posited, smoothing her hands over her riding jacket. It was a warm evergreen color, deep azure and crimson soutache snaking over her shoulders like the red and blue forks of the riverlands. The crimson lined wool jacket fell just past her knees, and she wore a pair of warm trousers tucked into polished black boots. Helaena was dressed similarly, her jacket the same shade of deep azure as Abby’s decoration, embroidered with silver dragons with black beaded buttons carved in the shape of dragon head clasps running down the front.

“Hasn’t Mother decided that you should remain here to entertain all those ladies?” Helaena asked, their arms linked as they headed to the main tent. Ahead of them, Alicent Hightower was resplendent in a warm cloak of the deepest verdant green lined in black fur, her gown not one for riding or hunting, but far more comfortable for the outdoors. It lacked excessive ornamentation, the black and green skirts swirling around the tops of her own boots. Her hair was much like Helaena’s, wound in a braided crown about her head. Lady Fossoway was a half step behind her with Ser Criston as they always were, with the rest of the ladies trailing after like a gaggle of geese.

“We’re doing the receiving line,” Abby said, the fingers of her free hand fidgeting against the fall of her jacket. “Aegon’s receiving his gifts and then we’ll have congratulations on the betrothal.” She flexed her fingers, the soft leather of her gloves creaking slightly with the movement. They were lined with soft fur, luxurious, indulgent, and while she was certainly never dressed in rags before, it was rare to accept and let herself have new things when they often felt so unnecessary.

It was a new feeling to be excited about the new clothes that she had, more sumptuous than what would normally be allowed at her station.

Wylla joined them as they passed into the pavilion, warm from the braziers placed strategically about the place, each guarded by a cage of decorative wrought iron to prevent unfortunate accidents. On one end of the great tent, a small dias with a simple, dark wood throne, crested with a dragon, wings spread in welcome.

It was the King’s chair, but the king was not here.

“Are we to accompany you while you receive them?” Wylla asked. Her long hair was bound tightly back and wrapped in a coiling knot along the back of her head. Her padded black jerkin clung to her over a long tunic of gray, black riding trousers tucked into a pair of matching boots. Like Baela, she was dressed for a day in the wilderness without the cumbersome dealing with skirts.

“You look nice,” Abby told her with a small smile. “Not quite the Wildling I heard rumor of,” she teased and Wylla snorted.

“It’s a hunt and the opportunity to ride and get the fresh air. We’ll be going hawking while the men go to shove their pricky things into…” She trailed off with a twist of her mouth, the small scar along her top lip pulling at it. “Men waving around their big pointy things.”

“In a far more acceptable manner than what it implies,” Abby added on, giggling at the silly implications of it all. “And yes, I think you should. We’re receiving gifts, so you best take Desmara and Lythene with you to Lady Fossoway for instruction.”

“And then we’ll go hawking,” Wylla said with a nod.

“I have to stay here,” Abby corrected with a shake of her head. “It is my duty to entertain with her Grace.”

The northerner’s brow furrowed and both of them looked in the direction of the queen, her cloak handed off to a servant while she spoke with Lady Johanna. Wylla shifted beside her and Abby could feel the questions and arguments flitting beneath her friend’s skin. She rested a gloved hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “As I told Aegon, these are some of our new duties, no matter how dull they seem to be. Hopefully there’ll be time for me to go exploring later.” Hopefully. Abby loved exploring the Kingswood, and she’d been looking forward to going hawking, even if she did not particularly hawk herself. However, fun and indulgence could not be had in favor of duty and responsibility.

No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.

Wylla gave her a long look, teeth biting at her lip before she nodded and getured for Lythene and Desmara to follow her. Helaena had already left with Margaery and Floris and Abby was left standing alone, for the moment, amidst the steady flow of nobility pouring in for refreshment and talk. Alone, Abby was relatively unnoticed. Just a small girl in the midst of a crowd, no crown on her head to shout out who she was.

“Abrogail.”

Larys was taller than most people realized, for he did everything he could to make himself small. Few knew that Larys was as tall as Harwin had been, for her elder brother preferred to have such a small cane, to shrink himself into spaces where he could slip in. It was strange, Abby realized, that she had never noticed that it was a trait she shared with him. No desire to be the center of attention, no desire to be noticed, both for their own reasons.

The smile he gave her was an awkward twitch, but Abby noticed that it did reach his eyes, which was a rare thing, and she found herself returning it. Small and shy, perhaps, as if she were still the somewhat muddy little girl she’d been who he’d look at curiously across the breakfast table in the family solar.

He was subdued in a quilted doublet of the same deep azure and brown leather, his cloak a dark green-blue to match, clasped at the shoulder with a firefly broach. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow of his free arm, languidly walking toward a clutch of plump seating not far from the currently empty dais. The smell of cooking food caught on the woodsmoke in the air, and Abby’s stomach rumbled with hunger. They’d only had some fresh bread and cheese on the ride over, and the idea of warm, spiced pumpkin soup and a turkey leg the size of her own face was rather appealing.

“You’ve conducted yourself quite admirably under all the attention as of late, little sister,” Larys complimented, taking a seat on one of the padded benches. She perched beside him, smiling her thanks at the servant who came by with mugs of hot, mulled wine. She inhaled the scent of orange and lemon, the warmth of cinnamon before taking a sip. “Even with your, shall I say, antics at the tourney, they were quite well received.”

“Antics?” she asked lightly, feeling the curl of heat spread across her chest. There was no way for Larys to know what sort of other antics they’d gotten up to. The bite Aegon had left along her shoulder had turned bruised and tender, the imprint of his teeth still deep in her soft flesh. That mark was quite well hidden beneath her jacket and shirt beneath.

Larys only hummed and took a sip of his drink. “The other lords have expressed concern at my choice of husband for you, but I have assured them there is no reason to fret. I simply wanted my sister to be cared for and happy.” He gave her a sidelong look, placid expression barely shifting, his dark eyes large and innocent in his expression. “And everyone can clearly see how happy you two make one another. The queen…” he trailed off with a sigh, “has not quite been pleased but…”

Abby looked down at the deep purple-red wine swirling in the silver goblet. Anxiety prickled through her, confusion at her brother’s attempt, it seemed, to try to bond with her on something more personal. “Her Grace has been very indulgent,” she said softly, mouth twitching into an awkward smile that her brother returned. He inclined his head towards her only just.

“We both understand how passionate the queen’s frustrations can run, little sister,” he said softly, the scent of him cold and clean, like a tomb. Abby blinked, the awkward smile falling from her face. Her throat bobbed, the sting of bile in the back of her throat was almost painful. Had the queen told him what had occurred? Or had Larys, with his strange talents, found out what happened himself. “You will not be her ward for much longer. I imagine, like any mother, she is feeling the maternal ache over the loss of her son to his wife, and the loss of you, who is like a daughter to her.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, busying herself with another sip of wine so she might find the words. They were receiving glances from the bustling court as they found their places, platters and great soup tureens being set out along the tables. Her stomach growled again. “She was quite concerned about… the dishonor I would bring upon the royal family.” Her voice was little more than a shamed whisper and the insinuation was as painful as the day she’d been accused when coupled with Ser Edmund’s harsh words in the gardens. She straightened her shoulders, trying to push past the hurt and shame that lingered still, tilting her chin up, refusing to be cowed. “Apparently some of the other lords are quite concerned about your heir marrying into House Targaryen.” She smiled at the passing servant, plucking a small apple tart off the platter he held. “I have made my own assurances that our children will be raised in the customs of our people, that regardless of dragon blood, we are the Riverlands.” Whether or not Edmund Vance believed her, if he mocked her to those he could find for such statements, well, she could do nothing about that. She could only mind herself.

“It will be a hard road, Abrogail, given that they do not see you as one of them. Lo, they barely see me as one of them, what with all my work here,” Larys said with a nod, looking at the cake he’d plucked for himself. “What matters is that you greatly impressed Lord Tully, and his son has been amenable and welcoming-”

“I may not have grown up in the Riverlands but even I know there’s only so much influence they have,” Abby cut in, chewing her lip after the words tumbled from her, her voice a soft, biting thing. Larys said nothing to that while he chewed on a bite of cake, and she shifted slightly in her seat and took another sip of wine. “It will not be a smooth transition, not for all. A prince? Becoming vassal to a mere lord?”

“Prince Daemon was Lord of Runestone through the dear, late Lady Rhea,” he reminded her after swallowing. “I don’t recall any such problems between him and the Lady Arryn.”

“Jeyne Arryn was kin to his goodsister,” she retorted. She had spent countless hours in the library with Aemond, taking meticulous notes of the lessons the boys had that her and Helaena did not. Part of that involved wiling away a week of stormy, frigid weather, tracing out the family trees of the Great Houses. The Targaryens rarely married out, even before King Jaehaerys, but there had been Aemon and Daella to houses Baratheon and Arryn, and Queen Aemma’s siblings and half-siblings. She’d even traced her own tree: Harwin’s mother, Lysa, had been Lord Elmo’s sister. Larys and Corynna’s mother had been a Frey. Abby’s mother had been a Westerlander, already outside, already suspicious of the clannish houses of her homeland. “And if all the mutterings and murmurings are true, he cared as little and less for them as they did for him.”

She’d heard the rumors of Daemon being responsible for his first wife’s death, and the occasional muttering that he was responsible for Laena Velaryon as well, but in the past few days being with the mercurial Baela, she did not think that was the case. Abby looked back at her brother again, briefly, before smiling in greeting as Lady Redwyne and her sister settled nearby. The queen had sat on the opposite end of the circle of seating, the corral of it split evenly between the pair of them. Her shoulders slumped minutely and she kept her genial smile as the older women settled in.

Laughter caught her attention, Helaena and Baela both with shaking shoulders near the pavilion entrance as other girls joined them. They would be going hawking soon. The sun caught upon Helaena and Baela’s silver heads, giving them a golden shine. A sigh caught in her throat. How nice it would be to join them, to frolic in the lack of responsibility.

Larys shifted, still sitting at her right hand as the rest of the guests filtered in, and her attention drew back to him. “Ah, yes, the princesses and the other ladies are going hawking. Did your grandfather not gift you a new hawk for your engagement?”

Lord Rodrik had indeed. Abby had hawked some when she was a little girl at one of the hunts for Princess Rhaenyra’s nameday, but had never had a one of her own. But Lord Rodrik and her Reyne family were prodigious hawkers and the beautiful Peregrine she’d named Caelus was a little wonder. He’d been trained by her cousin, Emrik, who had fancied himself a falconer, and had sent a kind letter that she was quick to return. Letters had been rare over the years, but there’d always been well wishes and tidings on her nameday.

“He did, and I know we brought him. The queen…” Abby trailed off, her eyes darting to the other side of the tent where Queen Alicent was smiling at the younger Lady Redwyne. “She said that it was our duty to host while Aegon goes hunting. That it’s my duty. To make friends, to comport myself as the future princess.”

“Oh, did she?” Larys asked mildly, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his cane. “Yes, I can see what she would want that. It was, after all, what has been expected of her when she was your age, already with two children. She had far more in common with the matrons of the court at that point. You are here when others who should be are not.”

Rhaenyra should be here. She was the King’s eldest, his heir. Discomfort prickled along Abby’s spine, a latent spike of anger at the woman who had put her family in danger, hurt at how quickly Rhaenyra had moved to Daemon Targaryen after what happened to Harwin. Her fingers curled against her knees before she forced them to relax and stretch. The Crown Princess had always been kind to her, but could Abby even trust that? After what happened at Driftmark, and what happened to her family?

Alone now, save for Larys.

‘Not alone anymore’, she immediately reminded herself, because Aegon was with her now; Helaena and Aemond cared for her too. They too were her family. Not alone, for she had her grandfather and he loved her truly. Yet, she had felt this loneliness for so long. Rhaenyra was not responsible for her loneliness, but in many ways she felt it keenly. It felt as if everything changed because of her.

This marriage, Alicent’s desire for control, Lord Otto’s keen and watchful eye were because of Rhaenyra. Aegon’s pain was because of Rhaenyra.

Her father and brother were dead and gone because of Rhaenyra.

“I am here when others are not,” she said softly, eyes watching those who watched her, her smile flashing as she murmured her greetings as the ladies began to gossip. Larys was murmuring his own greetings to Lord Piper’s wife, complimenting her on the recent betrothal for her son. Abby’s gaze darted towards the front of the tent, where the girls were still gathered as they prepared to go off for their own little adventures.

Alicent Hightower made sure she was there. She made sure that people saw her as queen, someone to be trusted and counted on, someone that could be reached. She was here, as Abby was here.

“If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening.”

Abby was not queen. She wasn’t certain what that future held, but she did know, with certainty, that she was the future Lady of Harrenhal, and that Lythene Ryger, Melony Piper, even Sarra Frey who was lingering nervously with a goblet in hand, they too would be future ladies of houses that she needed to be friends with. Abby could not just rely on the fact that she held the title, not when she did not grow up in her home, not when people like Edmund Vance were so eager to tell her that it didn’t matter, they would see what they wished.

“Lady Sarra,” Abby called, rising with a smile and handing over her goblet. She could feel Alicent’s eyes on her, and that over the other ladies. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you at the feast last night. Pray, will you join me and the others out hawking?”

Sarra Frey was a tall girl, broad shouldered with high cheekbones and dark hair bound in a twist of three braids down her back. She wore a simple but lovely jacket of deep blue and silver, the colors of her house. At being addressed, she straightened up, green eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. They narrowed slightly, mouth parting before closing. A flush crept across her cheeks.

“I don’t have a hawk with me, Lady Abrogail,” she said softly. At her full height, she was as tall as Aemond, more softly spoken than her severe expression might have said. Abby smiled.

“That is quite fine, there are plenty to go around.” Sarra nodded, handing off her goblet to one of the passing servants and Abby looped her arms through hers and tugged her towards the others. “My legs are exhausted from that carriage ride, shall we go?”

Even Baela’s mask of judgment faded as they walked towards the edge of camp where the Master of the Mews was minding the hawks and preparing to move out further from camp. She was stuck between Helaena and Wylla, the princess’ silver head shining beneath the sun. Lythene was laughing with the Crane twins and even Sarra was pulled into conversation with Zara Celitgar, who was eyeing the tall Frey girl appreciatively.

“Are we not taking a carriage?” Margaery Crane asked as Helaena led the way past the line of them set aside for their later return.

“It is not a far walk,” Abby assured her. “And it’s nice to stretch our legs after all that sitting.” She nodded towards the Master of the Mews and his apprentices carting the hawks ahead of them. Margaery hummed in agreement, confusion placated, and Abby was set to continue onto another subject when there was a commotion from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see Cassandra Baratheon striding behind them.

“You all left so quickly!” she announced, censure and jovial all rolled into her crisp tone. A slight smirk crossed her sharp features as they approached. Among the three ladies that accompanied her, Lady Elinor kept close at her side. Cassandra’s dark eyes swept over Abby as they drew closer, and she felt picked apart by the gaze, something sharp stabbing between her ribs at the continued haughtiness of the eldest Storm. Abby straightened, offering her own wan smile. Like hell would Cassandra set foot into Harrenhal, but this?

This she needed to be easy with; this she could allow.

“Of course, Lady Cassandra,” she said. “We would be happy to have you.” Helaena made a soft sound that Abby ignored but felt deeply. Her eyes flitted to Lady Elinor at Cassandra’s shoulder, giving her a warmer look. It was her family’s strawberry wine that had been highly spoken about over the course of the festivities, and Elinor’s responding smile was kinder.

“Congratulations are in order, Lady Abrogail,” Lady Elinor murmured. Cassandra’s eyes tightened, her smile frozen on her face.

“Yes, congratulations on your coming nuptials,” she parroted, smoothing her kidskin gloves over the fall of her woolen hunting jacket. “How comforting it must be to wed one’s childhood playmate. No surprises or excitement to worry about.”

The words were harmless enough, but the barb beneath them was clear. Abby tilted her head slightly, her own smile still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Baela who spoke, angling her head between Wylla and Helaena to peer at her cousin.

“Not to mention wedding a childhood playmate means there’s no barrier to intimacy, and no secrets kept,” she said, then bit into the apple she had in hand. “Now let’s fucking move before I start hunting with my bare hands.”

Helaena was meant to be in bed but sleep eluded her. She waved away the maids and headed out into the night toward the great bonfire in the center of camp. There was no danger here, much like there was no need to fear in the Holdfast. Her slippers grew wet after only moments, the night dew soaking into the soft fabric and chilling her toes.

She wanted to dance around the fire, stare into the flames like she heard the Red Priestesses did, and wonder to herself if her dreams would make more sense then. Aemond said she was touched as Daenys was, a gift precious to their Targaryen line. It helped ease the fearful strangeness to know that her strange dreams were not simply the ‘odd workings of an overactive imagination.’ That they did mean something, but what? Helaena was never certain. Sometimes she never knew the outcome, other times they became starkly clear.

‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.

“Would you care for some company?” came a low, curious voice, a slight crack on the last word. She looked over to see Jace lingering at the edge of the firelight, his jerkin long discarded with just his gray linen shirt and trousers, a dark blue cape wrapped around him. The bright flames danced in his lavender eyes, giving them a shade of deep purple-red she found curious indeed. Did her own look the same?

“You’re not gallivanting with the boys?” Helaena asked, not meaning anything by it until the words hung in the air, and Jace’s gaze glanced to what he held in his hands. The only ‘boys’ for him to gallivant with were her brothers. Of course there were other lordlings about, but given that Jace was lingering around the bonfire caused her to wonder if he too liked the quiet.

Or if he were lonely.

“I didn’t want to…” Jace trailed off, rubbing his thumb over whatever he held in his hand. The motion of it reminded her so strongly of Abby, Helaena didn’t know how she was supposed to process it. The curl of unease and her mother’s frustration and anger coated her insides. Her own frustrations, deeply buried but still there, like the ever smoking fires of the Dragonmont, bubbled and burbled in response. The king who loved Jace more, loved him like he loved Rhaenyra more. The blind man who ignored Aemond’s nameday even though it had just happened, who only thought of Aegon’s day because of everything that happened.

The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.

All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.

The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.

Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.

Half fire.

Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.

Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.

Half fire.

‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.

She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.

“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.

“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.

Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.

His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.

“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”

He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”

A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”

She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.

Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.

On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.

“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”

“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”

Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.

Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”

The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.

“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.

“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”

Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”

Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.

It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”

Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.

“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.

“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”

Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”

Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.

“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.

And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.

Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them. Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.

[ageofbajabule]

Dawn of Love | Chapter 5

Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: Fluff, Talks of Death, Talks of Cancer/Cancer treatment, Angst, Oral Sex (M! Receiving), Fingering (F! Receiving), Car Sex, Unprotected Sex, Arguing, Crying, Talks of Doubt, Talks of Abandonment, Death, Sad!Josh (I apologize in advance), Heartbreak.

Author’s Note: We have officially entered frat boy era Josh🤩 And I’m sad to say this will be the only chapter of Frat boy/rat tail Josh :( But trust the process and the vision I have for this series. We’re halfway through it🥹

May 2016

Sophomore year of college was completed, you somehow managed to maintain your GPA. Even after finding out everything last fall. Josh was really your rock through it all, he helped push you through the year. You were absolutely terrified that you would flunk out from the assignments you had missed out on, but Josh was more than helpful to assist you in getting them done.

The guys had managed to start playing more bars, they even were starting to work on an EP with a label. They were more than thrilled as you were. Josh had assured you over the last few months that he was happy about his decision and that it wasn’t because of Jake. He wanted to do it too.

Your father’s treatments were going well, or at least better for most. Your relationship had gotten better, it was sad how the idea of death brought the two of you together. But it was better now than never. Your weeks consisted of photo clientele, and making your dad’s treatment appointments. He kept telling you that you didn’t have to go, but you insisted on being there every step of the way to fight it with him.

Josh and your dad had even gotten closer themselves, which you were thrilled about. You wanted them to have a good relationship, considering you saw a future with Josh. The two of them would go fishing together with Jake and Kelly, to help get your dad’s mind off of things for a while.

Your sister Oliva and yourself dedicated every Sunday to be a spa day for the two of you to debrief and relax after a long week. It was much needed for the two of you, your sister was going into her senior year now and preparing to send applications to college’s. Her and Sam had even been spending more time together, a little more than usual. But you and Josh had encouraged them to be with one another. Although your sister kept on telling you that it wasn’t like that… But you knew it was exactly that.

Even with all of that going on, Josh made sure after every practice the guys had or anytime they went to record at the studio that he would spend much needed time with you. He prioritized your relationship just as much as he did his and his brother’s career. You were excited for them, especially being able to hear the raw uncut work before it’s finalized.

You had gotten offered a great program to jumpstart your filming and directing career especially only going into your junior year. You had been working on extra side projects to earn this program, and finally got accepted into to hopefully graduate a year earlier.

“Sunny.” Josh called out to you.

“What’s up?” You smiled softly.

“So, the guys and I have to go to Nashville in July for some recording sessions…”

“That’s awesome.” You smiled weakly.

“I was kind of hoping you would join us. Well me at least anyways.” He scratched the back of his head. His freshly cut hair, he let go of the length and went short. With an undercut. He looked absolutely hot.

“You want me to come along?”

“I mean of course. It's going to be a week-long trip, and I figured you would like to tag along.” He smiled sitting beside you.

“I’d love to come. Will the guys be okay with it?” You worried about crashing the trip.

“Jake actually suggested you join. To make sure we didn’t drive each other insane.” He chuckled.

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement with him. “Yeah, you guys can get pretty heated.”

“I also figured you needed a break too though. From everything you’ve been going through.” He sat beside you, holding your hand.

“They say he’s getting better, but he looks worse now than he did before…” You felt tears threatening your eyes thinking about your father’s current state. “What if he doesn’t make it Josh? What am I supposed to do?”

“Sunny…” His voice softened, “Your dad is strong. I believe he’ll win this battle. He’s got a great team of doctors and an amazing support system.” He rubbed your shoulders. “If something were to happen, and I hope nothing does… You just remember him. Remember him healthy, remember the good times, remember him happy.”

Tears started to stream down your face. “I’m so scared Josh… I don’t want him to go…” You wrapped your arms around him sobbing into his chest.

“I know baby… I know.” He consoled you, rubbing your back as he hugged you tightly.

“If something were to happen, you’ll be there, right?” You sniffled looking at him.

“Of course, Y/N. You call me and I will be right there.” He cupped your cheek in his hands, kissing your lips softly.

“I love you.” He smiled resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.” You sighed softly as you felt yourself calm down.

After sitting there in a moment of silence you finally gathered yourself, becoming excited about joining them on their trip to Nashville.

“Sooo, do you have anything fun planned for us when we go down?” You smiled softly.

“I might have a few things up my sleeve…” He smirked softly.

“Not even a hint?” You tried your best puppy dog look.

“Nope. You’ll just have to wait and see.” He kissed your cheek.

You groaned getting up from your bed. “You’re no fun.”

“I can’t ruin any surprises!” He argued back jokingly.

July 2016

The guys and yourself flew into Nashville, the flight wasn’t that long which you were grateful for. The entire flight Sam kept talking about your sister Olivia. Which made you realize just how much the two of them liked each other. Although your sister would deny such a thing.

The guys had managed to get a nice cabin, a few miles out from the city. They felt it would be a nice change than staying in the busy city. And Josh always loves taking advantage of nature when he can. He loved being outdoors, just as much as Sammy did.

That was your first stop of the day, settling into your cabin. Josh and yourself found a room that had a nice view of the mountains, it was also the master suite. The guys made their jokes of course about the two of you which you just ignored as Josh lectured them all.

“When do you guys head to the studio?” You unpacked your bag as Josh does.

“We have to be there for 3. It's probably going to be a long night…” He gave a half smile.

“It’s only the first day. It’s okay, we have the rest of the week to do whatever you have planned.” You smiled at him softly.

“It’s just we have to try and get this EP done. Especially since they want to release our first single soon. Which we still haven’t even perfected.” He sighed softly.

“Hey, that’s why you guys have been coming down here. It will work out, don’t stress about it. I believe in you.” You cupped his face in your hands.

“It’s just. This is Jake’s dream… And I want to help him every step of the way.”

“You are helping him. I mean look at you guys… These past two years that I’ve known you. You’ve shown me how much you have helped him. You guys are literally here. Recording your first ever EP!” You kissed his lips softly.

He kissed you back softly. “Yeah… You’re right. I don’t know why I’m freaking.” He chuckled nervously.

“Well, it's not exactly an easy thing you guys are doing. You’re putting your heart and soul into this. All bands have to start out somewhere… But you guys, you have something that no other band has.” You caressed his cheek.

He smiled at you lovingly, “What would that be?”

“The love you have for one another. You guys are brothers. And there is no stronger bond than that, I mean Danny fits right in. He was the perfect puzzle piece for you all.”

“Yeah… I honestly don’t know how we would’ve made it this far.” He smiled softly. “Thank you for believing in me, believing in us Sunny.”

“Always and forever Josh.” You kissed his cheek softly.

“Are you guys almost finished unpacking? We want to head to some restaurant not too far from the studio before we’re there all night.” Sam yelled up.

“Jesus Samuel, give us 5 minutes!” Josh rolled his eyes, causing you to giggle.

“Come on, let’s finish and get out of here before they barge in here thinking we’re up to no good.”

“So what if we’re up to no good…” He smirks at you.

“Absolutely not, not right now Joshua.” You give him a stern look.

“Ouch. Joshua… Really Y/N.”

“I’m serious, let’s finish up and go.” You patted his chest continuing to finish unpacking.

The restaurant was really only two blocks away from their recording studio. Which was a nice advantage, the food was delicious and the portions were massive leaving mostly everyone with some sort of leftover.

Once arriving at the studio the guys started setting up some of their own gear while the studio had extra gear for them to use as well. You smiled softly as you watched Jake be completely mesmerized by the studio. This studio was a whole lot different than the one back in Michigan.

Josh was checking out the recording booth for himself to see what space he was working with. It wasn’t as small as the one back home. The rest of the guys got settled in and started to tune their instruments, while Danny tested the drum kit out.

You’ve heard some of their unrecorded songs, while there were many. They only were brought down to 4 choices. You absolutely loved ‘Flower Power’ although that was Jake’s song he had written for a certain someone that he wouldn’t disclose, so you never bothered him about it.

You had a feeling deep down their biggest hit would be ‘Highway Tune’. It was definitely a song that would reach a big crowd with Jake’s riff, Josh’s vocals, Danny’s drum skills and Sam’s bass skills. Honestly any song from the EP will blow people away.

“Sunny, they’re calling me into the booth.” Josh came over kissing your lips softly.

“Go kill it, rockstar.” You giggled softly, as you watched him go off into the booth. They played a backtrack from ‘Black Smoke Rising’ which the guys had been working on for Josh to sing.

You sat on the couch there, watching him sing his heart out in the booth smiling big as you were amazed by his vocal range only knowing it was going to be even better as the years went by.

After about two hours they were pretty much finished with the samples they needed from Josh for the day. While the rest of the guys recorded their samples for the rest of the night until they had to return back tomorrow.

Josh came sitting by you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder pulling you close to him. In which you snuggled into him.

“Are you feeling alright?” He spoke softly.

“A little tired, but it’s worth it.” You smiled softly.

“Me too, mama. I’m beat after today. I’m sure they are too, but luckily on Wednesday we’re going to the lake.” He kissed your cheek.

“Really?” You smiled softly.

“Mhm, just the two of us. A nice picnic with my beautiful girl.” He caressed your cheek kissing your forehead.

“God, can you two ever get a room?” Sam made a gagging noise.

“Sammy boy… You act as if you haven’t been affectionate with a lady before.” You gave him a questioning look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His face was a little red.

“Oh but I think you do…” You giggled softly, knowing your sister and him have definitely been seeing each other more.

“Yeah, Sam… Smooching all up with Olivia…” Josh chimed in.

“Seriously guys.” He groaned walking away to finish up recording, as the two of you sat there laughing.

“I think it's cute. I’m glad they have one another.” You smiled at Josh.

“Yeah, it's kind of ironic though.” He chuckled.

“Honestly, I would've thought my sister would pick a jock over a musician. But she surprised me…” You giggle softly.

“I didn’t think you would fall for a theater kid.” Josh smiled at you.

“With my love for film… I’m glad I fell for a theater kid.”

Wednesday came quicker than expected, you guys had been in Nashville since Sunday and would be heading back home early Sunday morning. The last few days had been filled with exploring downtown Nashville while also going to the recording studio with the guys. They would have to come back down a few more times this year before they could actually wrap up the EP. As it still “needed word” as the label stated.

But today was a day off from the studio leaving you and Josh to go to the lake as planned, while the rest of the guys went kayaking.

You put on your favorite swim piece that you knew drove Josh crazy. Wearing your overalls over the top of it. You smiled to yourself as you slipped your sandals on and grabbed your bag with towels, blankets and sunscreen. While Josh had the cooler in his hand. The two of you took a short drive to where the lake was, as it wasn’t far from the cabin you were staying at.

“God it’s beautiful down here.” You sighed contently taking in the scenery

“Yeah, it is.” Josh smiles softly, looking over to you.

“I wouldn’t mind moving down here… In the future of course.” You giggled softly.

“Really?”

“I mean yeah. Winter’s aren’t as bad as Michigan. And the summer is obviously nice as well.” You started to walk toward the lake.

“Yeah, you’re not wrong.” He rubbed your back following behind you.

Once you found a spot the two of you placed the blanket down. While Josh set up the picnic he had for the two of you. You smiled sitting down on the blanket after helping him, then he sat next to you.

“Do you- god this is probably stupid…” Josh chuckled nervously.

“What is it?” You smiled pulling a water bottle out.

“Do you think we’ll get a home together one day?” He scratched the back of his neck.

You felt your cheeks flush, “Yeah… I think one day we will.”

He smiled brightly, setting up the little picnic of sandwiches, fruit and chips. As well as a bottle of wine.

“Trying to get me wine drunk in the daylight, Joshy?” You giggled softly.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” He raised an eyebrow laughing softly, as he pulled out solo cups to pour the wine into.

The two of you sat there talking about everything that was coming up later in the year. How the guys would have a few promotional things coming up, and. your projects you had with school coming up as well.

The weather was beautiful out, it wasn’t so hot out that it was unbearable. It was the perfect weather you could ask for. As you ate, you watched over the lake seeing the birds fly over, chirping away. You felt home, and free with Josh. The most at peace you’ve felt in a while.

After finishing up eating the two of you decided to swim in the lake, as the heat picked up a bit since you got there. But the water was perfect, the two of you swam for a while. Then decided to head back to the cabin to prepare dinner for the guys and yourselves.

Pulling up to the cabin you noticed the guys arrived not too long ago from their day out kayaking. Jake and Josh both shared a similar sun-kissed face from the long day out. Sam’s back was as red as a lobster causing you to giggle softly.

“Jeez Sammy, did you forget to reapply?”

“Daniel was supposed to remind me…” He winced in pain.

“Listen man, I was zoned out and totally blanked.” Danny tried defending himself.

Shaking your head laughing softly, you all tredge inside. “Sam there should be some Aloe in the bathroom upstairs. Danny can help you apply it, while Josh and I get dinner ready for everyone.”

Danny nods his head and runs upstairs grabbing that for Sam to help relieve the pain and reduce his skin from peeling.

Josh insisted on making pasta, with his signature sauce. In which you couldn’t argue as he was a good cook. You helped make a side of salad for everyone, while baking some garlic bread.

After finishing up making everything, you brought it to the dining table, calling everyone to eat. In which all the guys pretty much rushed in, Sam now a little more relaxed after Danny had helped apply aloe on his back. Jake couldn’t help but pile his plate with food right away.

“Thanks for letting me come along on this trip guys… I really needed it.” You smiled softly as you made your plate up.

“Of course! You’re always welcome to come and tag along.” Sam chimed in, as well as the other guys.

“Honestly Y/N, I think if you didn’t come we wouldn’t have lasted the whole week here.” Jake chuckled softly.

“Yeah, cause at least at home. Their mom is able to break up the fights.” Danny laughed softly, while the twins shook their heads.

“I’m really glad you joined us too for this… Whenever we tour the world… I want you to be there. Every step of the way.” Josh smiled rubbing his thumb over your cheek. As he plants a soft kiss to your lips. Earning groans and gagging noises from the rest.

“Oh shut up, just cause you don’t have girlfriends or your girlfriends aren’t here doesn’t mean I can’t show some PDA.” Josh argued with them.

“Alright, alright let’s just eat. Okay?” You giggled softly looking at everyone.

They all just nodded, and began to eat whatever was on the table for dinner. There were no complaints, just compliments and discussions of what was to come, and talking about childhood memories.

But, Josh truly did brighten your days, even after all the dark that has happened within the last year. And you couldn’t be more grateful to have him a part of your life, as well as the rest of the guys. They were your family, and you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

April 2017

The guys have officially released their EP this month, and you couldn’t be any more proud of them. Karen hosted a small gathering at their house with Danny’s family to join as well.

All of you were sitting in the basement, you were sitting on Josh’s lap. While your sister had been cozying up with Sam. They finally became official right around Christmas after the months of everyone piecing it together that were in fact together.

Danny and Jake strummed on their guitars as Jake has been teaching Danny more on how to play. You smiled to yourself knowing that these were your people, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“So what’s the plan now? A tour I’d presume?” You smiled at them.

“Some shows around cities. I think they have a few festivals lined up for us, which surprised us. And then we’re releasing a double-EP later this year.” Jake smiled softly.

“That’s exciting! I’m so happy for you guys, it’s all happening.”

“Couldn’t have done it without everyone.” Jake smiled softly.

You smiled softly, eventually getting up from Josh’s lap stretching your legs out. You put your hand out for him. “Come on.” You smiled softly.

“Where are we going?” He chuckled softly.

“For a drive.” You giggled softly, pulling him with you as you left the house getting into your Jeep that you got for yourself after your car practically died on you.

“Where are we going, Sunny?” He tried to pry it out of you.

“You’ll know once we get there.” You giggled softly.

You were taking him to the abandoned cabin he had taken you too, a few years ago. It had been awhile since the two of you have sat there to relax and clear your minds. It always brought you a sense of comfort when visiting there.

Surprisingly no one has bought it yet, you figured it was destiny’s way of telling you the two of you would own it one day.

After driving for a little while, you pulled up seeing Josh smiling softly out of your peripheral vision. You parked the car, opening the trunk to the back of the Jeep to sit in with Josh.

“We haven’t been here in a while…” He chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“I figured we needed a well deserved trip here.” You smiled taking in the view of the acres that swallowed the cabin. It was more than likely a very beautiful home years ago, but after being vacated it wasn’t taken care of and left to rot basically.

“You just wait… One day, I’m gonna buy this.” He kissed your cheek softly.

“Not if I beat you to it.” You giggled softly.

“You’re gonna be an amazing film director.” He rubbed your shoulder. “It’s crazy that you’re going to be graduating next year already… And I’m going to be touring and producing more music…”

“I couldn’t be more proud of you, Josh.”

“I’m undeniably more proud of you, Y/N.” He kissed your lips softly.

You smiled into the kiss, placing your hand on his chest softly.

Josh cupped your face with his one hand, deepening the kiss. Causing a quiet moan to tumble from your lips. He smirked against your lips, trailing kisses down your neck softly.

A breathy moan came from you, as you slid your hand over to his crotch, feeling him harden beneath your hand. You smiled softly as you palmed him slowly, earning a groan from him as he left wet kisses.

Luckily you were practically out in the middle of nowhere, so no one would catch the two of you like this. Taking matters into your hands, you gently pulled away and began to unbutton his pants.

“Come on… Let me be nice to her.” He mumbled.

“Ah, this is about you right now.” You shushed him as you kissed his lips softly, continuing to unbutton his pants and shift them down along with his boxers springing his hard cock free.

You wrapped your hand around the base pumping him slowly as you see the tip is flushed and leaking with pre cum, taking your tongue you lick the tip gently earning a groan from him.

He pulled your hair back with his hand, making a makeshift ponytail. You smiled softly, as your mouth sinks down over him. Using your hand to pump as you try to fit all of him into your mouth, relaxing your throat to not gag.

His grip on your hair tightens as he moans and praises you. Feeling the heat grow between your legs, you keep your pace up, not breaking it to keep him where you want him. Using your other hand you massage his balls, as he bucks his hips making you gag slightly.

“Fuck, Y/N…”

You hummed along his length, making him buck his hips again. You pulled your mouth off of him, pumping him still as he took your face kissing your lips roughly as your teeth clashed together.

You began to remove your leggings, as Josh dipped his hand past your lace panties, feeling how wet you were for him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me…” He chuckled softly, kissing your neck, as he slipped two fingers into you pumping them slowly curling them as he hit your spot.

Whining quietly, you kiss his neck softly while trailing behind marks.

“There’s no one out here baby. S’just us.” He smiles softly, as he continues to work his fingers. You let your moans slip more frequently as you were nearing your end.

“Josh, I-“

“I know mama, let go.” He worked you through your first orgasm as it washed over you, you tilted your head back as you saw stars.

Pulling his fingers, he sucks on them making sure to get every drop of you as he hums contently. He then removes your panties, as he places his hands on your waist letting you hover over his lap. You kissed his lips softly, as he fumbled around his pants pockets.

“Shit…” He groans quietly.

“What’s wrong?” You caress his face.

“I don’t have a condom with me…”

“If you want to continue, I’m on birth control. It’s only one time…” You smile softly, as you and Josh had always used protection just for the sake of avoiding the chances of a pregnancy scare.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you…” He grabbed your face gently.

You nodded, “I’m more than sure. It’s okay, I trust you.” You smiled, kissing his lips softly, feeling him line himself up with you.

Slowly you sink down, feeling him stretch you out. As the two of you gasp feeling each other for the very first time without a layer of latex. It felt different and so much better, but you knew this would be the only time for a while.

“God… I’m not sure I’ll last.” He moans underneath you, holding your waist firmly.

“Look at me…” You grabbed his face gently, as he locked eyes with you. “I know this feels different than normal, but we’ll make it last.” You kissed his lips softly as you kept a slow pace on rolling your hips.

Kissing you back, he moaned into your mouth as the two of you got lost in each other. He gripped your hips some more, before moving his hands down to your ass gripping firmly as he spread your cheeks earning moans from you as you continued to ride him.

After riding at a slow pace, you decided to pick the pace up a bit. Bouncing on his cock, earning a groan from him as he smacks your ass. Earning a yelp from you, placing your hands on his chest to help hold yourself. He grabbed your face, kissing you roughly.

After a few more rolls of your hips, he was thrusting up to meet your hips. He was starting to falter a bit, signaling he was closer than he thought.

“Baby, I… Where?” His hair was sticking to his forehead as sweat was beating down his face.

“Inside…” You whined, throwing your head back.

He held you close to him as he took over, using his feet to thrust into you using his free hand to rub circles onto your clit to bring you to your last orgasm.

“Fuck…” You felt your body go into overdrive as you orgasm crashed like a wave. And he wasn’t too far as he groaned thrusting two more times after he finally stilled inside of you, coating you inside with his release.

You rest your forehead against his, panting with him as he smiles softly kissing your lips. You kissed him back giggling softly, as he slipped out of you carefully, grabbing napkins to clean up your mess.

After cleaning yourselves up, you put your pants back on, deciding on sitting and watching the stars for the rest of the evening together.

June 2018

The guys released their double-EP back in November. They even toured in Europe for the Spring while doing some shows here in the states during the summer.

You graduated just a month ago, giving you the free time to go on the small leg of the tour with the guys, it was fun being on the road with them. But sharing a small van with 4 guys could be a bit much.

Josh and yourself had started considering getting an apartment in the city somewhere, or waiting to rent a home until the two of you could afford to buy a home. As your relationship was getting more serious. But you also weren’t sure if you wanted to stay in Michigan to pursue your film and photography career.

While being on the road with them, you always called home to check in on your dad. You felt a little guilty for not being there with him, but he assured you that it would be better if you went out and saw a little bit of the world with the guys.

On your way back home, Josh and yourself decided that he would stay over for the weekend while you guys looked over more listings and figured out where you wanted to live. As you had to get a head start on diving into your career.

After being dropped off, you guys said your goodbyes to the rest of the guys walking into your very empty and quiet house. Which threw you off guard, but you figured maybe your family went out to the lake for the day. And ventured upstairs to your bedroom with Josh.

“So I did get an offer for Nashville.” You smiled softly as you set your bags down.

“That’s amazing!” Josh smiles, kissing your cheek.

“It’s just, with everything with my dad… I don’t know if moving to Nashville is too sudden or selfish of me.” You sighed sitting on your bed.

“Sunny, it’s not selfish. I think it's great if you want to move to Nashville. The scene down there… I mean you saw it. It’s always busy, and I’m sure you would fit right in.” He rubbed your hand gently.

“And the guys and I have been talking about moving down there ourselves… With working on our first full album, we’re going to be traveling a lot there. And figured we would save ourselves.” He chuckled softly.

“It wouldn’t hurt I guess…” You smiled shyly. Then your phone started ringing, seeing your mom’s contact appear.

“Mom. Wait, I can barely understand you… I, it’s DAD! I’ll be there, just wait.” You hung up with her, looking at Josh frantically.

“We have to go, it's my dad.” You scattered around your room finding your car keys, as tears filled your eyes.

“Sunny, woah! Let me drive, you’re in no shape.” He grabbed the keys from you, helping you out of the car, opening the door for you. He hopped in the driver's side starting the car up and heading over to the hospital.

On the way over it felt like forever although Josh was practically blowing almost every stop sign to get you there as quickly as possible. You were crying and fidgeting your hands nervously not knowing what’s going on.

After a few minutes Josh snapped you out of your daze, and helped you rush inside the hospital asking the receptionist where he was located and immediately you were taken back with Josh following right behind you. When finding the room you walk in to see your mom sitting beside your father crying at his hand, while your sister sat in the corner crying.

This was it… His time has come. And there was no way of turning back…

“Hey… pumpkin.” He spoke softly, but tried to sound enthusiastic as he smiled weakly.

“Dad…” You rushed over to his other side, grabbing his hand kissing it softly as tears kept coming down your face.

“Hey now… No crying. We prepared for this.” He used his one hand to rub your cheek, you moved your hand on top of his.

“I’m not ready Dad…” You cried into his touch, as he kept rubbing your cheek.

“Yes you are Y/N. You’ve been ready… It’s time to make something of yourself and to make me proud.”

“I’m scared.” You whispered as you choked back tears.

“There’s no need, I’ll always be with you… And you have your mom, sister and Josh. Come on over here son…” He choked up.

Josh rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder rubbing circles reassuringly.

“Hi Sir…” He smiled weakly as tears filled his eyes.

“Treat her right, just like you always have… And whenever the time may come or be.” A few tears slipped from your dads eyes. “You have my blessing.”

Josh smiled softly, as a few tears slipped. “I’ll make sure she is always taken care of. You won’t ever have to worry.” He chuckled softly, as your dad nodded in agreement.

“Dad, I love you so so much…” You stifled back a sob.

“And I love you pumpkin, more than you’ll ever know. Come here.” He motioned for you, and you embraced him as best as you could hugging him tightly and he hugged you back as tight as his body would let him.

You pulled away, standing beside Josh while your sister came over to your mom, as you all stayed beside your dad for the last few minutes of his life.

After moments had passed and your father shared his last breath. You stood there in silence as your mother’s sobs soared the room as well as your sisters. Whereas you stood silent taking in everything. Feeling yourself close off, you backed away slowly feeling completely numb.

Josh’s grip on your hand stayed as he followed you out of the room. “Sunny…” He called to you, shaking your head slightly and you felt tears threatening again.

“No… This isn’t supposed to… It isn’t real.” You broke out, sliding down against the wall in the hallway.

“Baby…” He kneeled down to you, trying to pick you up as you pushed his hands away.

“This isn’t fair Josh! He deserved more.” You cried looking up at him. “He needed more time!”

Josh nodded, picking you up engulfing you in a hug as you wrapped yourself around him, crying into his chest.

“I’m here, let it out.” He rubbed your back softly. And you did, you stood there letting it all out, accepting your father was gone.

One Month Later

A week after your father’s passing your family held a funeral service and a burial. It was beautiful and the outcome was nice, seeing family from Florida and childhood friends from there too for support in these hard times.

Josh had been helping you through it, completely being by your side while attending to his duties with the band. You were grateful, but felt bad for taking him away from his responsibilities. You had been trying to get yourself busy with work, getting clients for photoshoots before making a decision on where you’ll be taking your career off.

Although Josh and yourself haven’t decided on where you would move too. In fact the conversation hasn’t been brought up since the night of your father’s death. You didn’t want your decision to depend on Josh, but you didn’t want to wait around much longer either and ruin your chances at jumpstarting your opportunity.

You were pretty set to move to Nashville especially with an offer you were given. There was a really nice apartment that you had set a deposit on, although there were other potential tenants that could beat you to it. But you were hopeful.

Lately you’ve felt a little out of place, with everything. You haven’t felt like the best partner to Josh lately, and have felt like you’ve been lacking at what you love to do. And a tour was coming up again for him in another few months. You had already started packing up most things in your room to prepare for whenever the day would come to pack up and go.

“Sunny! We are so freaking lucky for this next small tour! You get to come with us.” He smiled brightly, embracing you tightly.

You hugged him back, smiling weakly to yourself. Feeling a little nervous with what you’re about to say.

“Josh…”

“I know what you’re thinking, ‘I don’t want to intrude on your guys' time.’ And you wouldn’t be!” He pulled away smiling at you still.

“Josh it’s not that…” You chewed on your lip nervously.

“What’s the matter?” He looked at you concerned.

“I accepted an offer…”

“I thought you were going to take the year off?” He questioned.

“Josh I can’t just take a year off!” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I have to jumpstart my career, while I can. If I don’t start now, I never will… And I don’t want to be stuck here…”

“But you can come and be our personal photographer… And, what’s so bad about here?” He tried to reason with you.

“I could never bloom with my career here… There’s just no way, and I can’t be your personal photographer… Sure it would be nice. But I have to do this for myself Josh. You guys can’t always be the ones to help me out.” You smiled weakly, placing your hand on his cheek.

“I just don’t understand… We can work through it and get your career going.”

“Because I have to do this on my own!” You yelled, a little louder than you’d like to admit.

He stood back a bit, looking at you. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“I thought you would support me, and tell me to go. And hopefully you would move in with me so that you can be home when you’re not touring the world.” You looked at him with tears building in your eyes.

“I can’t just pack my things up and move Y/N… The band. And we just aren’t entirely ready to move to Nashville just yet…” He looked at you, with a look that was breaking your heart.

“So… You’ve just been lying to me for months…”

“It’s not like that Sunny!” He sounded frustrated, “It’s far from that. I love you so much. But I mean I can’t just pack up and go with where we are in our career with the band…”

“And you expected me to give up mine?” You felt the tears start to fall. “I thought we were, I thought this was…”

“This doesn’t have to end… You’re still my girl, and my love has never changed for you.” He caressed your cheek, wiping away the tears.

“No… Because I’m just going to hold you back… and we’re at completely different points of our life right now. It would just make things difficult.” You looked up at him, your heart breaking as you spoke.

“You wouldn’t hold me back.” He chuckled softly.

You pulled away, “Yes I would, and I already have… After my dad died, you’ve been making sure to be there for me all the time. Sometimes calling things off with the band, you can’t jeopardize your career for me.”

“I can manage how I handle things… Y/N don’t do this.” He looked to you with pleading eyes, tears building up as they began to fall.

“No. I can’t hold you back. I have to let you go and be you…” You choked on your words, caressing his cheek.

“This was supposed to be forever…” His voice broke, as he looked down at you. He ran his thumb over your lips.

“I just think with everything going on… We’re at completely different places in our lives right now. And it’s not fair to either one of us Josh.” You breathed through your broken sobs.

“I’m never going to stop loving you, you know that right?” He held your face in his hands.

You nodded looking at him, “I’ll never stop loving you…” You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him one last time. His lips connected with yours as the two of you shared your last kiss together.

After pulling apart from one another you gave him a look. “Just don’t hold back because of me. If later on you find someone… Don’t be afraid to move on.” You gave him a half smile caressing his cheek.

“Don’t even go there… There won’t be anyone else. I’ll wait. Till you are ready.” He smiled softly, capturing you one final time.

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To be continued

Taglist-

@fkfearandliveyourlegend @hi-hi-hello11 @gretnavannfleet @gvfmuse @meetingthestardust @myleftsock @twistedmelodies @thunderstomp-and-tequila @devilat-thedoor @vanillabear27 @dharma-divine33 @holybananafuck @thecoldwind @gretavanmoon @maren-gvf @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @wagnerbrainrot @piratejakesgf @wetkleenex-gvf

(if you’re not tagged it’s because your tag didn’t work so i’m sorry in advance)

[sunnywalnut]

I miss when autistic rep was on accident. I feel like every time a neurotypical/allistic person tries to write somebody with autism on purpose, it just comes off as "he's a total jerk, but he's REALLY GOOD at what he does" instead of "this guy's facial expression doesn't change very much, but I promise you he's absolutely happy to help. Also talk to him about birds. He fucking loves birds."

And I don't mean "he loves birds" as in "this guy wears bird shirts 24/7 and corrects you if you accidentally call a pigeon a dove." No. I mean "he loves birds" as in "he's able to name the sound of the bird just by it's song and point to it and it's just sitting on the rooftop next to you" and if you ask questions he gets this little smile to his face and answers them all and even tells you about some drama about two researchers who were unsure of they could call two birds different species since they were so similar and then gives you the answer of they can, because their beaks are different and that means their diet is different or whatever.

Not every autistic dude in media has to be "UwU save me from the world and take care of me bc I'm just a smol beannn✨"

Sometimes they're just Chad from maintenance who seems to love his job a bit more than he should, but it's all good bc everything that's fixed works even better than it was before it was broken. He's not creepy or anything. But he WILL call you over if he sees you walk past in order to show off his latest repair and talk to you about what he did. Everyone loves Chad. They're happy that he's as dedicated to his job as he is. Plus it makes the office a lot more bearable to have him around because he always seems to wear this gigantic grin and talk with his hands.

You're absolutely able to have "cute" autistic characters. I have cute autistic characters.

I have a little elf girl that counts each individual strand of her hair when she's nervous and climbs trees. She loves baking, so much so that she will make everything gluten free, kosher, dairy free, vegan, whatever you need in order to make sure you're included. As soon as she steps into a garden, she's completely covered in dirt. And yes, she's extremely friendly and doesn't understand social cues. And sure. She has her boyfriend take care of things for her, like keeping her safe from creeps when she's in public, and shutting down scammers before she can pay them, but it's not because she's dumb. It's because he elected himself into that space. And he knows full well that if she decides to scurry off to whatever wonderful thing that has caught her eye, that she'll wander back to him when she's ready. She knows how to defend herself. And he trusts her. And she does things for him as well. Which is something I don't see in autistic/allistic relationships in media at all.

Like do y'all really think our partners are just our glorified babysitters???

We're not just there to sit still and look pretty.

We're there to be your emotional rock. We tend to have high empathy. We can listen to your problems and validate your emotions. And sure, we might give you some advice that seems a bit wonky at best, but anyone can do that. Not just autistic people.

Sometimes we take over financial decisions, for one reason or another. I had a partner that would always come to me for financial advice despite living on their own and having more than enough money to do what they wanted with, but they knew that I could budget better. I'm good at math. And no, not a "math wiz" all A's kind of good. But a "I can do big number addition/subtraction and sometimes multiplication within seconds in my head" which was also really helpful in my culinary class when my teacher would put me in charge of making sure we were on target with how many servings of food we had. Not every autistic person has to be leagues above the rest academic to be autistic. My allistic brother had straight A's for YEARS. Much longer than I did. I had A's and B's.

You can come to us if you need a hug. Or to cuddle. Or to body double. Or just to hang out. Some autistic people like touch. We crave it. I can guarantee you that if we were friends and you climbed up on the couch next to me and laid your head in my lap, I would let you. No questions asked. I'd even pet your hair. And I'd ask you about your day. I can't count how many times high fives have turned to hand holding with my friends because they needed a loving talking to about how great they are. Or a back rub when they're crying. Not all of us are going to stand there, staring down at you while you're curled up on the floor and be like "STATISTICALLY SPEAKING-" yeah no. And the people who DO that likely are trying to relay information that they know that they think will help you feel better. We're odd, but we're not heartless. Let me get down on your level. Sit with you. And then I'll talk to you about how tears are actually really healthy and it's good that you're able to cry. And also I'm proud of you and let's get you some water, okay?

We can take care of you too!!

I give all my friends hair care advice bc I've spent too much time watching hair stylist videos. I tell them to make sure they lotion after every shower when they complain about dry skin or body acne. I tell them to drink water after they cry. Or wash their face. Or alternate ways they can get around invisible barriers and still get what they need done. You know how many times I've had to sit down problem solve with my loved ones for over an HOUR bc their ADHD decided not to let them brush their teeth or take a shower? I have a whole ARSENAL of advice to give you. And yeah. If you're close enough where I can head over to your place, I WILL do your dishes(bc somehow they're less gross than mine). I WILL wash your hair for you, or fold your clothes or clear the counters of trash. Not because I think you're lazy or nothing. But because I see something that needs to be done, and I do it. Because I love you, it's simple, and hey, I'm here anyways, right?

Like shit. Every night I have a sleepover with my best friend, I do the dishes that were in her sink before I even came over while she starts on dinner. Because I love her. And that's my way of paying her back for picking me up. I clear all our trash, and the scraps of tea bags that she missed in the mornings. Because I love her. And it's simple enough I can do it myself. I chop the garlic as we cook together because we're working as a team. And yeah. After it's all over. We sit on the couch like a bunch of lazy dogs and watch TV and chat and do whatever. And sometimes. We don't do anything but just enjoy each other's company. Because as adults, we don't get a lot of time to just relax.

We all have our own strengths and weaknesses. And sure. Being friends with an autistic person isn't always sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes our behaviors or our tenancies can be stressful. Like sensory meltdowns, or our bluntness(which is honestly usually just us saying exactly what is true without sugar coating it. Like if you said the sky was purple I'd be like "nah it's blue rn" and people find that blunt and rude. But to me, that's just a fact. I'm not saying you're dumb. I'm just saying it's blue right now.) or sometimes, even when we get super hyper about our interests. I would know. I'm autistic myself. And I irritate myself.

But it seems like in media, the irritation is all people can see. Even in "supportive" families that I see in shows and such, everyone's always stressed all the time.

You're telling me ONE LITTLE CHILD is tearing this entire family apart? (*COUGH COUGH Young Sheldon COUGH*) Not only is that stupid, that's just inaccurate.

If you wanna be accurate, maybe don't have every autistic person you write be a "high functioning" male in a doctor's coat who's transphobic as fuck and his excuse being he's autistic.

If you know the bitch is outwardly transphobic, don't fucking put him in the room with trans people.

And also?

Autistic people are allowed to learn the difference between sex and gender. We're ALLOWED to learn about queer identities. And we're ALLOWED to be queer ourselves without being labeled as idiots who don't know any better.

I've YET to see a show about an outwardly queer autistic girl who is able to make awesome friends and overcome her challenges WITHOUT succumbing to being an asshole on purpose.

Except for The Owl House. And Luz isn't even canonically autistic. It's just speculated.

THAT is good autistic representation.

Not whatever the fuck "The Good Doctor" is supposed to be.

My Personal List Of Good Autism Rep Recs(non canon, sadly):

-Good Omens(not explicitly canon, but multiple characters behave in a way that could be labeled as autistic. Plus Neil Geiman, the writer himself is autistic)

-The Owl House(again. Not explicitly canon. But great. The whole show is about accepting yourself as you are and is kinda along the lines of Gravity Falls. In fact, she was in a relationship with Alex Hirsh, creator of Gravity Falls. And also she's bisexual with a CANONICALLY BISEXUAL LEAD!! Also is lovely for mental health allegories too)

-Gravity Falls (the whole Pines family just REEKS autism to me. Noncannon.)

-How To Train Your Dragon(Hiccup is autistic as hell and you can't convince me otherwise. Non canon)

-Adventure Time (some of the humor is dated, but enjoyable. Also Princess Bubblegum. Need I say more?)

-We Bare Bears (slice of lifey. Sometimes childish. Sweet as hell though. Grizz feels very autistic to me, but that could also be because I enjoy how huggable and easily excitable he is. Everyone loves him. He's loud, he can absolutely be obnoxious, but he loves his bros and tries his best to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. He also does his best to fix any problems he makes. Which in my book, makes him a good guy. Some people also claim Ice Bear is autistic. But personally, I feel like he just doesn't talk much. What do you guys think?)

[genshin-impact-updates]

Happy Birthday, Sangonomiya Kokomi!

[atreldes]

“Forget a footnote or a chapter— I want the whole fucking history book!”

A moodboard for my @infamous-if mc Rorie Rose, she/her, lead singer of electronic/synth rock band rising//sinking.

[slttygeto]

HUSBAND SUGURU! + PREGNANCY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tags: fem! reader, husband suguru!, nsfw, suguru is very hesitant about being a dad, but isnt forced into this :), reader is very motherly, dirty talk and talk about getting off the pill and being bred.

word count: 2,1k

Husband Suguru! whom before you even got married, sat you down and mentioned to you how starting a family wasn’t something he was looking forward to. you know of his past, of the trauma he’s been through. he fully expects you to break up with him when he tells you that, knows how much you want to have a baby of your own, but you don’t. instead, you cradle him in your arms and tell him that you love him and appreciate what you have right now, not what you don’t even see in the picture.

Husband Suguru! who swears he hasn’t changed his mind about babies, about starting a family in general even three years into the marriage. but when he sees you with your friend’s baby, the glow on your face, the motherly instinct—how you gently place your hand on the baby’s head, rock her back and forth and coo at her softly while her mother gets her food ready, his heart feels as though it is about to explode.

“There there baby girl,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and when the baby cries, your lip juts out and you pull the infant towards your chest in an attempt at soothing her. your eyes find his where he is sitting on the couch, and the lighthearted chuckle you give him pulls a nervous one out of his body. you are now convinced that your husband would never ever change his mind based on the horror painting his features as he turns to your friend’s husband to strike a conversation. but in reality, the topic of their conversation is all too surprising.

“Has it been difficult? You know, managing a career and taking care of the baby,”

“Oh yeah very,” the other man admits but Suguru doesn’t detect a single hint of regret in his voice. “but yknow, look at that,” he point his glass of water in the direction of his wife and you holding the baby. “seeing my wife with our baby, our creation—seeing her act all motherly like that? Totally worth it.”

Husband Suguru! who starts to consider the idea of getting you pregnant. he hopes for the rational part of his brain to win over, rather than the horny, disgustingly perverted one. but when you walk out of the shower in a crop top, his mind drifts elsewhere—and suddenly, the image of your belly swollen with his kids floods his mind and he has to put a pillow on his crotch to hide the very evident bulge in his pants.

Husband Suguru! who once he calms down and takes care of his raging boner, texts Satoru in a hurry, asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning. your husband tells you of his plans and you hum sleepily, telling him how catching up with his best friend seems like a good idea. Suguru drops the bomb on his best friend the moment they sit down and the ivory haired’s jaw almost meets the floor.

“You mean you wanna be a dad?”

“I’m not…too sure,” Suguru looks conflicted, he is holding his head in his hands. he knows very well that this is a topic that should be discussed with you, since you were the other person of interest in the situation. but he would hate to give you false hope, he’s seen the way your eyes light up at the mention of a baby, at one of your friends or colleagues being pregnant, how there’s a disappointed look on your face that you try so hard to conceal when Suguru gives you a face in response of a pregnancy announcement. but you are so patient, so accepting, you’ve never once forced him into anything. and truth be told, he wanted to see what kind of mother you would be to your baby—and then toddler, and then teenager and adult—you’d have a life together with a new person who would adapt either your personality or his, with a face of the love of his life. your baby could have your eyes and nose, he’s always pointed them out—even before you started dating.

“Dude, do you or do you not want to have a baby?”

“I don’t know man, it’s hard to think of.”

“Because you are thinking too hard about it,” Satoru says nonchalantly and it irks Suguru a little.

“I am not thinking too hard about it—this is a new responsibility, what if I am not fit to be a dad? I could be a failure for all we know—what if I pussy out of it and—“

“I would kill you.” Satoru warns the man and Suguru doesn’t try to hide how he stiffens up. “I am not joking, I would find you and bring you back to her as a sack of bones,”

“I wouldn’t betray her like that…”

“You’re too focused on the aspect of being a bad dad rather than a good one—yknow, you really think that she’d marry someone she doesn’t see fit as the future father of her children?” Satoru has a point. you did mention to him once (when Suguru was nowhere to be seen at a party you all attended) how falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but the one thing that would top it is if he became a father to your children. Satoru, knowing his best friend’s stance on the topic, reminded you of how terrified the man was of the idea and all you did was give him a reassuring, understanding wave of your hands.

“I know, but I just know he’d love them hard and make them feel as safe as he makes me feel.”

Husband Suguru! who doesn’t really try to bring up the topic of ‘trying for a baby’. he cringes at the thought, feels as though it makes the process less romantic and intimate and more of a robotic task. as he is stripping you of your clothes, he is silent and lets his eyes wander over your figure. you are extremely shy tonight, unable to meet his eyes as his rough, calloused hands brush over the skin of your boobs before bending down to be at eye level with them. he brings the flesh inside his mouth and sucks—and blood rushes down to his groin at the thought of them being filled with milk, heavy and swollen, more sensitive than usual. his teeth graze the skin at an attempt to catch your attention and your thighs squeeze as you meet his eyes.

“Sugu…” your smaller hands rest on his face as he pulls away from your boobs to plant a heated kiss to your lips, effectively pushing you back on the bed. your back gently hits the mattress, and your chest is heaving in anticipation, unsure of what his next move would be.

“Baby,” he finally speaks up, nose brushing against your stomach as he brings his lips to the skin. “how about you drop the pill tomorrow?” he knows how much of a horrible job he is doing at this, but he feels you move, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“w-why would I do that?” your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Suguru wishes to brush his thumb over the tense skin of your forehead.

Suguru is shameless as he kisses further south, planting his kiss above the tuft of your pubic hair before pushing your panties to the side. He parts the lips and gives your clit a kiss before moving to your inner thighs.

“why not? It’s doing horrible things to your body—“ he brushes his nose over your clit as he speaks. “beside, we need you off the pill if we want a baby, don’t you think?” when you don’t react to his words, Suguru looks up only to find you staring down at him with parted lips and eyes glossed over with tears.

“…are you sure?” you ask softly, and your husband swears he could never say no to you if you asked like that all the time.

“very,”

Husband Suguru! who fucks you with a new purpose. each drive of his hips fueling the other to go harder, deeper, to keep pushing his cum inside you and plant his seed deep within. your cunt does a great job at showing Suguru how ecstatic and excited you are with his sudden change of heart. you keep squeezing around him, barely able to keep your sounds in—he fucks you so deeply that the sound of skin to skin is louder than your moans and his groans. when he puts you on all fours, the cum starts to drip out of you but he pushes it back in with two thick fingers, lips pressed to your ass cheek.

“want more?”

“mmm! please,” you whine when he aligns his tips with your folds and fixes your arch with a hand on the small of your back. the gasp that escapes your lips when he fucks into you hard makes Suguru chuckle and he rubs your sides, soothing you.

“no need to beg for it,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your nape. “I’d gladly fill you up.”

Husband Suguru! who stiffens up when you show him the positive pregnancy test. up until this point, he is in control of his emotions—he lets you cry in his arms about how scary all of this was, despite you saying you’ve always wanted a baby. he is supportive, understanding of the heightened emotions that you are experiencing—when he sees your tears turn into happy ones, only half of him is able to relax. clearly, he is nervous but he doesn’t wanna show it. not right now.

The first ultrasound during your pregnancy was nerve racking—your hand squeezed your husband’s as you stared at the screen showing what appeared to be your unborn baby. Very tiny, but still there.

“Okay mom and dad,” the doctor presses the ultrasound transducer a bit lower on your stomach, a small smile on his face. “I got some news for you.”

“Good?” your anxious voice has Suguru rubbing his thumb on the back on your hand.

“It depends, how long have you been trying for this baby?” You couldn’t exactly disclose of your very active sex life, but you do give the doctor hints that it was definitely wanted.

“Well, look over here—“ he points to the screen with his gloved finger, ushering Suguru to come closer. “Look over here dad, what do you see?”

Suguru swallows hard as he stares at the screen in confusion, unsure of what to say. “..a baby?”

“Babies. Congratulations, you’re pregnant with twins.”

Your husband whips his head towards you fast, and you cover your mouth in shock. This wasn’t planned—twins? And for a first time? You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were of excitement or fear that maybe you weren’t ready for this.

But Suguru still comforts you, holds you in his arms—tells you that maybe finding out the gender won’t make all of this sound scary anymore. He knew you never really had a preference for gender—you were a natural mom.

However, finding out the gender was an emotional experience for the same man who never thought he would become a father.

Husband Suguru! who tells Satoru to buy the gender reveal cake for you two. he doesn’t want to throw a party, and neither do you. finding out within the privacy of your own home seemed like the best option—you didn’t want to reveal that you were pregnant to any family members—at least not yet.

“Are you ready?” You hold your own glass as you wait for your husband to stand next to you. Your bump wasn’t that evident yet, but signs of pregnancy were starting to show on your body and it brought this warm feeling to Suguru’s body.

“Yeah, hold my hand.” You chuckle slightly at his request but comply either way. Each of you holds their own glass above the cake before looking away as you push it down—you hold your breath, Suguru rests his forehead on your shoulder as he mumbles something about not being able to look at the cake. But you muster up the courage and lift your glass, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

“Sugu—“ you don’t need to tell him to look, he was already staring at the glass with teary eyes. The pink frosting wasn’t something he was expecting to see—he knew he was going to be happy with either but two little girls? His own baby girls—the thought of being a girl dad brings tears to his eyes and you’re quickly pulling him towards you.

“Oh baby,” you hold back your own tears as you comfort your emotional husband, his arms wrapped around your middle. You hear little sniffles and a hand rubs your back before feeling a pair of lips pressed to your forehead.

“Gonna be the prettiest mom to the prettiest girls. Ever.”   

note: my posts are all self indulgent at this point… enjoy :D

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[yawnderu]

Simon lets out a deep chuckle as he sees your daughter pick flowers from the light, clean grass, her tiny hands barely even managing to gather enough strength to get the stems out of the ground.

“C'mon, that's enough.” His voice is patient, calloused hands picking his daughter up as he brings her up to his chest, a small smile when he sees her holding onto the flowers for dear life, giggles leaving her lips as he starts bouncing her while they walk.

It became a routine, in a way, for Simon to bring his daughter whenever he visits his family. She's too young to understand, so pure, so untainted from the dangers of the world, always kept safe by Simon and you, yet he can't fight off the urge to make his family see her.

He walks for a few minutes, enjoying the chilly air while his daughter cuddles up to him, one of her tiny hands gripping his jacket, while the other one is still holding onto the flowers. He stops in front of a set of four graves, the familiar pit of dread setting deep within him starts to come out, shaky hands managing to gently put the little girl down on the cold ceramic.

Mrs. Riley.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

Simon was hiding his hurt quite well, managing to sit down next to his little girl, one hand on her back as she started crawling around, finally setting the flowers down.

“Mum?” His voice is quiet, almost cracking, as if he was the scared little boy his mother defended with her life. His daughter looks up at him with curious brown eyes, sitting down and entertaining herself with her own onesie.

“I remember telling you I'd never settle down because I could never get as lucky as Tommy and Beth...” He dragged out, gaze going down to the ring on his finger, the physical representation of your union.

“You've met my wife before, and now I want you to see my kid too.” He's barely managing to speak, words coming out rough and choked up as his hand caresses his daughter's thin hair, making him pause just to examine her features. She's a tiny carbon copy of him, a lovely nose and a set of brown eyes that will never see the horrors he lived.

“She's a proper daddy's girl, but you would've loved each other.” He's sure of it. His mum was always so lovely, so nurturing. A true angel on earth with way too much forgiveness and patience for her own good.

He picks his daughter up, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Simon thought he cried all his tears when he was a little boy, yet his nose is starting to sting, vision getting blurry for a few seconds until a choked sob manages to escape his lips. He's quick to wipe any tears away, simply trying to focus on the peace and quiet the cemetery offers, his hand running up and down his daughter's back, patting it softly just to hear that little giggle that seems to always repair his broken soul.

“All of you would've loved her, shy little thing she is.” He sniffles again before a quiet laugh leaves his lips, smiling despite the way his eyes are still filled with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“I'm quittin' the SAS soon, don't want her to grow up without a father. The wife's happy about it, too.” Simon lets out a small sigh, looking down at the graves of his family, all buried next to each other. He shakes his head softly, his free hand quickly wiping off his tears before he goes back to holding his daughter, rocking her with care.

“I'll come back with her next time, jus' wanted to talk to you today. Let you meet this lovely girl.” Big brown eyes meet his gaze, instantly cheering him up despite everything. He pinches his cheek softly only for the little girl to smack his hand away with a giggle, only making his smile grow wider at how hot-heated she is. Just like her mother.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Alice and Colleen here with an exciting update for our OF subscribers! We're so glad you guys love our content and our sexy, feminine bodies, we love making videos for all of you and it warms our hearts how much love you guys show. But we both decided it's time we finally be honest with you all that we're detransitioning! We've been off estrogen for a month, and already our bodies are starting male puberty. But we decided to do the usual mtftm special and tonight we'll be on stream giving each other our first doses of testosterone while we still sort of look like girls. Kind of.

We're also going on cock growth pills. No more adorable two-inch cocks we rub together as we scissor. We both want our cocks so huge they're thicker around than our wrists. Down to our knees, rock hard all the time, our balls unnaturally inflated by all the synthetic hormones to grow to the size of plums. We'll finally get to cum like the boys we're meant to be. We can't wait to hot the gym, load up on muscle gain powder, and become full-fledged men, built like tanks, totally unrecognizable, sitting all day in the gym, waiting for unsuspecting pregnant college girls to come in and do yoga or some light running, their huge milk-filled breasts spilling out. We talk constantly about how fun it'll be to gang up on some girl like that and show her what it means to have some real cock fill her well-used holes.

We wanted to hold on and stay as fakegirls, pretending to be some idealized, porn-fantasy version of a lesbian couple. Ultra fem, wearing tiny bikinis everywhere, schoolgirl uniforms, tiny sundress with hems that barely reach past our asses or little cocks, showing them off whenever a little breeze rolls by. We make out in public, and when men approach us, we do our usual routine where we pretend not to want it, telling them we're only into 'other girls', only for them to shove their cocks down our throats or up our asses, which we graciously accept, no matter where we are. It's been so fun living out such a hot fantasy, but it's way too tempting to finally detrans. Doesn't help that our parents send us detrans content, like, every day. And so do our friends, and college professors, and coworkers......

We watch it all and rub our stunted little cocks like clits, cumming over and over like the depraved boys we really are. It's SO hot seeing beautiful fakegirls getting forced to become big burly men who can't control their sexual urges at all. Every time they wind up this way. From curvy, gorgeous, plump-assed, big-breasted, totally perfectly feminine in every way, to hulking muscle-men, hairy, no manners, ultra horny and sex-obsessed. From fun-loving and intelligent, to mindless oafs, their only hobbies become jerking off and raping the prettiest, curviest, most pregnant girls they can find. The perfect prey, unable to get away, irresistible, with bellies begging the world to be stuffed with as many cocks as possible. It's amazing how just a month with no estrogen and we're already so masculine and obsessed with getting our cocks nice and big for all of our future victims--I mean lovers! I hope you're excited to see our content go from softcore sapphic stuff to hardcore public fucking and rape--but let's be honest, bellies filled to the brim with sextuplets are the same thing as consent. Don't you agree? ❤️"

[papercorgiworld]

“I dare you to steal his clothes.”

Mattheo, Enzo, Blaise and Theo

Luna dares you to steal his clothes while he’s showering. I mean what can possibly go wrong… *wink wink*

Warning: smut, making out and the guys are fully naked

Mattheo and Theo picture source: https://pin.it/4GWiiih

I’m back with more low quality, cheap smut. Feedback is rewarded with my love, like even a small typo, just please let me know.

I wrote a part 2 for Mattheo and Theo: The day after the dare. Also wrote “I dare you to steal his clothes” for Draco and Tom.

You were sitting in the slytherin common room. It was late and the party was dying down but your friends refused to go to their dorms.

“Truth or dare?” Luna asks as she tries to focus on you but she’s clearly too drunk to manage that.

“Dare.”

Luna tries to get her brain to come up with a good dare, something fun. It is then that she sees a certain slytherin holding a towel and heading for the bathroom.

Mattheo Riddle

“I dare you to steal Mattheo’s clothes while he’s showering.” You groan, you preferred to stay as far away from him as possible, but then again if you were sneaky enough he would probably never figure out it was you.

You had managed to sneak in without making any noise. You were relieved there was only one person in the bathroom. You tiptoed towards the pile of clothing and just as you were reaching for it you noticed that the water had stopped running.

“Accio.” Is all you heard before being pulled backwards straight into Mattheo. His strong arms immediately wrapped around you and pushed you against his still wet body.

“You were dared to do this, weren’t you?” Mattheo whispers in your ears, his voice is calm and amused. You swallow and lick your lips in an attempt to calm yourself. “Yes.” You murmur as you try to wiggle your way out of his arms, but he just tightens his grip more. The water droplets on his body are sinking into the fabric of your shirt.

You sigh. “Just let me go. And like, lend me your tie or something so they know I tried. I don’t want them to think I chickened out.” Mattheo leans in closer to your neck, his warm breath on your skin makes your whole body heat up. “Riddle.” You wanna complain but it comes out desperate.

“I have a better idea.” Mattheo says right before he spins you around. Your back clashes with a wall as he pushes you against it with his whole body. His amused smirk gives you mixed feelings of worry and desire. “Just the tie is fine.” You protest as his face inches towards you. You fear that if Mattheo actually kisses you, you will lose all sanity and he will have you begging in no time.

You can feel his hardening member between your legs. A not so subtle reminder that he’s naked. Mattheo’s hand lingers on your leg gently making his way up under your skirt. Your body tenses under his touch. “You can always leave. Or you can stay and maybe I’ll let you walk away with my clothes.”

As you consider your options he watches your face and slowly leans into you, his pleased grin never faltering. After a moment of quiet sexual tension Mattheo grabs your ass and lifts you up without warning. A soft noise leaves your lips and Mattheo sees your parted lips as an open invitation. His mouth is on yours and his tongue immediately starts exploring.

His hard cock teases your pussy through your panties. Out of desperation you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, searching for more sensation. He breaks the kiss and admires your flustered face. “Look at you. Always acting like you're better than me and now I’ll have you calling me daddy in no time.” His arrogance turns you on as much as it infuriates you.

Mattheo grabs your chin to angle your face right, leaving your neck exposed. He starts kissing and nibbling at your sensitive spot, while his hips rock into yours. Your fingers entangle in his beautiful dark curls but only for a moment. You are not an easy prey.

You tugg his hair so he pulls away from your neck. “Not happening, Riddle.” His arrogant smug face starts cracking and he clenches his jaw. “You’re pretty entertaining, but I’ll not be calling you daddy.” You say trying to sound brave while you unwrap your legs. With dark eyes he lets you slip out of his hands so you land on your feet. “No tie for you, you’ll fail your dare.” You smile at his attempt to persuade you.

“Don’t worry about me Riddle, worry about the little fella between your legs.” You take a step and reluctantly he lets you walk away. Now that there’s some distance between you two your eyes fall on his hard thick member and you bite your lip, slightly impressed by his size. When you’re near the door Mattheo can’t help but try one more time. “My roommates are going to be out for a few more hours, just so you know, in case you change your mind.” You lick your lips as you're holding the door. “Sorry pretty boy, it’s going to be you and your hand tonight.”

As you close the door behind you Mattheo looks around clearly frustrated that he got played like this. An annoyed huff leaves his lips. You had already caught his eye but now you were definitely on his radar. He urgently needs another shower to cool down.

Meanwhile you walked back to your friends still shaking from all the things Mattheo had you feeling. When they see you walk in they stop talking and stare. “Yeah, it didn’t go as planned.” You say with a soft voice and a flustered face. Suddenly Luna points, clearly still out of it. “Is that a hickey?” Your eyes widen as your hand covers your neck. “Oh. My. God.” Pansy’s dramatic voice draws even more attention, while Hermoine eyes show flashes of pure panic.

Enzo Berkshire

“I dare you to steal Lorenzo’s clothes while he’s showering.” Your eyes widen and you blush. You wondered if Luna dared you to do this because she had somehow figured out you had a crush on the Slytherin.

Either way you were currently standing in front of the bathroom door. You quietly open the door and tiptoe inside, while scanning for his clothes. However, Enzo already noticed you before you managed to spot his clothes. “Did they dare you to join me in the shower? Because you are more than welcome, darling.” You turn around with red cheeks and see Enzo with a bright smirk.

But honestly your eyes don’t linger on his face for very long. They immediately drop down to his very naked body and his dick. “Enjoying the show?” He asks and you quickly turn around. “Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice.” You stammer, making Enzo chuckle. “If you stare for as long as you did, you’ve definitely noticed everything.” He emphasizes the last word. “I was dared to steal your clothes.” You confess, hoping he won’t think you’re some pervy girl.

“That’s just boring. I dare you to join me for a shower, I will help you wash.” You feel your whole body heat up. “You can’t just dare me, I can still pick ‘truth’.” You hear him walk towards you, but you don’t dare to turn around assuming he’s still naked. “You’re right. So, truth then: did you like what you saw?” Your mouth falls open and suddenly you feel his breath on your neck. His eyes carefully watching your red face.

“You are unbelievable!” You try and take a step to put some distance between you two, but he wraps his arm around you. “Unbelievably hot? Handsome? Long? Big?” He teases you while his face nestles in his hair. “You know if you’re not going to tell me then you’re going to have to shower with me.”

***

“So strange, it’s been an hour and (y/n) still hasn’t come back.” Luna asks with a very confused tone. Hermoine smiles, having her suspicions. “Maybe she just got a little distracted while trying to steal Lorenzo’s clothes.”

Blaise Zabini

“I dare you to steal Zabini’s clothes while he’s showering.” You swallow. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Convincing drunk Luna was impossible. So here you were sneaking around in the Slytherin boys bathroom gathering Blaise’s scattered clothes like some weirdo. You had finally collected every piece and tiptoed your way to the door. However, you were still only halfway when you were spotted.

“Hey, hey, what do you think you’re doing, little smooth criminal?” You hear Zabini shout as you're holding all of his clothes. “Nothing.” You instinctively answer. He wants to say something but is distracted when he sees your eyes scan down his body. “Princes, my eyes are up here.” You let out a nervous laugh as you glue your eyes to his. It has never been so difficult to not look at something.

You don’t dare to take your eyes off his face as he walks towards you. When he stops right in front of you you feel like you’re turning into pudding. He slowly leans in, his eyes never leaving yours. Then suddenly he pulls out a towel from behind you and wraps it around his waist. You sigh relieved that you can let your eyes wander again.

“Can I have my clothes back, little thief?” He asks with an adorable smile plastered on his face. “No, I’m stealing them for a dare.” You explain like you now have every right to steal his clothes. He tilts his head, not satisfied with your excuse. “I really need them.” You urge and you earn yourself a baffled expression from him. “So do I.”

“Clothes are overrated. You can go naked.” Blaise quirks an eyebrow. “I mean you have your towel.” You gesture to his slutty low hanging towel and when he looks down you head for the door. Unfortunately, you don’t get very far as he grabs a hold of your wrist. You stumble and fall into him, making you drop some of the clothes you were holding and causing his towel to loosen and fall down. As soon as you notice that his rather large member is revealed again you glue your eyes back to his. “Your towel.” He’s so amused with your flustered face that it really doesn’t bother him anymore.

His lips catch yours by surprise, but it doesn’t take long for you to relax into the kiss. Things heat up quickly. Your hands snake around his neck and he starts exploring your entire body, squeezing and cupping your breasts while gripping your ass and pulling you into his hips. You never stop touching each other as he walks you towards the shower. “I’m going to have to steal your clothes.” He explains as he pulls your shirt over your head. “Understandable.” Is all you say.

After more than an hour you return to your friends. “Did you take a shower?” Hermoine questions when she notices you walk in with wet hair. “Who cares! Did you get his clothes?” Luna screams in excitement about the dare. “Damn, I forgot about that.” You sigh and Luna looks confused. “Then what have you been doing all this time?” “Me.” You hear Blaise say as he passes you and your friends on his way to his room. You glare but his smile doesn't fade.

Theodore Nott

“I dare you to steal Nott’s clothes while he’s showering.” You roll your eyes as soon as you hear his name. All of your friends were convinced that you had a thing for him and you definitely admired his looks but you just couldn’t stand his smug face.

“Run in, grab his clothes and run out. Easy.” You whispered to yourself before slamming the door open with zero tact and running in. He of course immediately notices you. You spot a pile of clothes on the other side of the room and sprint towards it. When he realizes what you’re up to he steps out of the shower and heads towards the door.

You quickly hug the pile of clothes against your chest and turn around with the intention of running out, but there’s a flaw in your plan. Well, more like a very naked Theo leaning against the door. “I’m assuming you were dared to do this?” He raises an eyebrow. “Duh, why else would I be running around stealing clothes?” You were annoyed with his question and he was annoyed with your answer.

As you walk towards him it’s harder for you to ignore his massive cock, like its size is almost bothering you. No wonder his ego is so massive, just like his dick. He licks his lips as he watches you stare at him for a second too long to go unnoticed. When you look up and see his smirk, you sigh. “Just let me pass, Nott.” He shakes his head. “You come running in here, try to steal my clothes and expect me to let you walk out. You really aren’t that bright.” You narrow your eyes at him. “But you’re pretty, so maybe we can arrange something.”

The only thing between you two is the pile of clothes that you’re holding against your chest. Theo tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. “Come on, if you get on your knees for me I’ll let you walk out of here with my clothes.” You consider your options, but he makes choosing easier by leaning in and kissing you roughly. He bites your lips and you open your mouth while simultaneously dropping his clothes. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you press yourself against him. He eagerly embraces your lust and lets himself lean against a wall.

Your hands roam his naked chest and slowly you make your way to his already harding member. When you finally wrap your hand around his thick cock he lets out a soft moan. Even though his eyes are shut he knows you're smiling against his lips. You start pumping his dick and stroking his tip. Theo's breaths become messy. He hates that you know how much you turn him on, but he can’t help himself. More than once, has he spent his time daydreaming about you going down on him and now your lips were slowly making their way down from his neck to his chest to…

“You’re already leaking cum for me.” You taunt him and he looks down at you. Fuck, seeing you on your knees holding his cock. It does things to him. “But if you think something is going to happen, then you aren’t very bright, Theo.” With those words you jump up and grab his clothes, running like your life depends on it.

Panting you reach your friends and hold Theo’s clothes up in victory. Luna cheers excitedly. Some time passes and you’ve all decided to play one last round, when suddenly Theo walks in wearing nothing but a towel and if looks could fuck, then.. you know, definitely fucked. The lust in his eyes was dangerously attractive. His eyes never leave yours as he gathers his clothes laying next to you. “I’ll get you for this.” He says with a husky voice and licks his lips. Hermoine frowns and laughs nervously. “Why do I get the feeling this is about more than just stealing clothes?” Your heart starts racing as you watch Theo walk away, you might have gotten yourself in trouble.

[coryosbaby]

Life Lessons

Synopsis: helping your best friend fuck your girl can’t be that weird, right?

♡ Content warning . Threesome, pnv, anal (f recieving), degradation, sub! Reader, switch! Coriolanus, dom! Sejanus, creampie, multiple orgasms

Notes: a lil switch! Bisexual! Coryo moment?! Maybe.

Sejanus is his best friend.

Coriolanus’ thoughts run wild with these words, and he thinks consistently and wonders incredibly why his best friend has allowed him to do this— or why Coriolanus himself agrees to this in the first place. Your thighs lay open, skirt and underwear discarded on the bedroom floor, as Coriolanus sits between them. Your cunt is achy and swollen, begging for a cock to fill it while Sejanus lays underneath you. His dick sits throbbing inside your ass as he waits for Coriolanus to slide himself into your wet heat. He waits patiently and coos into your ear as you squirm on him.

“I know,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Give him some time, baby, okay? Coryo’s new to this, he’s learning.”

Yes, ladies and gentleman, you heard that right: Coriolanus Snow, the handsome, perfect, golden boy of the capital, is a virgin. And now, he’s letting his best friend’s girl pop his cherry.

And sure, his ego is deflating right now as he strokes his cock and watches Sejanus’ experience. He’ll get that ego back up, though, once he learns. He’ll make sure he outdoes Sejanus in every aspect— he’ll show him, alright.

He growls at that comment, perceived as a snide remark to the blonde even though Sejanus didn’t mean it that way. His cockhead drips with precum and he rubs over it with his thumb as he presses himself against your entrance.

“Shut up, Sejanus,” he grunts. “Know what I’m doing..”

And obviously, he doesn’t. His cock clumsily slips against your hole, making you whine and clench in an attempt to suck his cockhead into you. His chest heaves and he lets out a frustrated sound. But not before his brows furrow and he’s saying, “What are you doing?” to Sejanus as the other boy tries to reach out and touch his cock over your shoulder. He pulls his body out of reaching distance, and Sejanus rolls his eyes and attempts to grab him again. Coriolanus slaps his hand away, confusion glazing his features. Calmer now, Sejanus holds out his hand and his eyes grow soft as Coriolanus’ face flushes with embarrassment.

“Cmon,” Sejanus says. “Trust me, Coryo.”

And he does. He trusts him so much that he can’t have room to trust anyone else. So hesitantly, shyly, he grabs Sejanus’ fingers after a moment, and settles them around the base of his cock. He moves his hips forward as Sejanus easily finds your hole without even having to look. He presses the tip of Coryo’s cock into you, and his mouth falls open at the new sensation. You look up at him with doe eyes, and although your true love is Sejanus, you’re happy that you can help Coryo take what he needs.

“Fuck..” Coriolanus grunts, shaky, pressing himself further and further into you. “Is it always this…tight?”

Sejanus chuckles, lifting his hips as if remembering the feeling of your cunt.

“Always. Especially with her. She’s always grippin’ my cock like a fuckin’ vice.” And then after a moment, a small grunt sounds from him as he grips your ass cheeks in his hands. “Even back here.. still has such a tight little hole.”

Coriolanus groans, his hips rocking into you. His balls press against your skin, and he’s all the way inside now. But it feels so good, he doesn’t want to blow his load in the next five seconds, so he goes as slow as possible. You mewl against Sejanus as he begins to move, his cock pummeling your tight little asshole while Coryo begins to speed up his thrusts in your weepy cunt. He can’t help it, now. Your pussy feels too good.

Sejanus watches as Coryo grabs your thighs desperately with his hands, and smiles.

“That’s it. Fuck her just like that.”

And god, Coryo knows it’s fucked up but Sejanus’ approval just makes him even more desperate. He grunts as he watches your cunt swallow him whole.

“Coryo,” you cry out to him. “Please, hard. Wan’ it hard in my pussy, give it to me..”

Coryo becomes confident, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

“Yeah?” He whispers. He begins to pummel you, skin slapping skin, shoving his nose right into your neck, and he doesn’t care if he isn’t giving Sejanus room to move. All he’s thinking about is how good your walls feel wrapped around him. “Greedy bitch wants another guy’s cock in her tight little pussy?”

You moan, nodding your head yes, and sejanus’ hands wrap around your neck suddenly. His cock twitches in you, the sight of his girl getting fucked by his best friend turning him on a lot more than he cares to admit.

“Kiss him,” he breathes. “Kiss him, baby, let me see.”

And of course you obey, your lips colliding with Coriolanus’ desperately, your tongue scraping the roof of his mouth as throaty moans sound from him. His cock kicks, once, twice, and he’s cumming and it’s the greatest sensation he’s ever experienced in his life as he fills you up rope after rope with warm, sticky cum.

Looking down as his orgasm slows, he looks at your blissed out face, the sudden orgasm providing him satisfaction but not quite enough.

No, this isn’t enough at all. He needs to fuck you more, he needs to use you over and over until he trains himself to fuck you long and hard. He growls, grabbing your thighs and pushing your legs over your head as his sensitive cock moves inside you again. From this angle he can see Sejanus’ cock too, slowly but surely rutting into your ass.

“Slut,” Coriolanus spits. “Fucking slut. Look at you, you just love being fucked like a useless little bitch, don’t you?”

You cry out, the sensations too much but you know you still need to cum. And luckily, there your sweet boy is— Sejanus, his fingers reaching around to hastily rub at your clit. Coriolanus grunts, pushing his fingers away and replacing them with his own.

He rubs them in fast circles, and your pussy pulls taut as you orgasm all over his thick length. Coriolanus grins, proud of himself as he sees you fall apart.

“That’s it,” he says. “Good girl. Cum on my cock.”

Your tongue lolls out, and the man spits onto it as he pounds you, fast thrusts soon giving way to slower ones as his hips stutter and he creams inside you for a second time. He relaxes against your wrecked body, sighing out as he pulls out and his cum spills out of your raw fucked hole.

His eyes connect to Sejanus’, and the boy seems proud but also angry. Coriolanus gets the message to move out of the way, and with strong arms Sejanus lifts up your body and slams you down onto the mattress. His cock moves desperately, chasing the high he’s been craving, and he grabs your wrists and pulls them behind your back as he fucks you from behind.

All the while, his jaw is clenched and he’s looking at Coriolanus with a fire in his hazel eyes. He has a bone to pick with him later for taking his girl’s orgasm as his own.

And as he watches the blonde’s cock get hard against his stomach for a third time, he knows exactly how he’s going to solve it.