#i want to jump ahead when i have a family and all is well

[simple-and-cozy-life]

I've been so stressed from the changes happening in my life that I forgot that, even though this is going to suck, God is going to get me through this transitional time. Eventually, I will have the stability that I need and I will have a family.

Life will persist and so must I.

[dreammfyre]

targaryen dynasty ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the first daughter of Daemon and Laena Velaryon, betrothed to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon whom you have known since childhood. Queen Rhaenyra personally asked you to seek out knights and ladies with Targaryen blood to try and get them to claim a dragon to join the cause. You, always so attached to reading and the most studious and intelligent, did not hesitate to obey your queen, however, it was proving to be more difficult than you imagined. Luckily, Jacaerys knows how to help you.

WARNIGS. (+18) Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!oc. Targaryen incest. Smut, oral (fem receiving).

NOTE. The thuth is that I don't know how thid got 5000 words, but here we are!!!

If anyone asked you, you had no idea how long you had been locked in the castle library. The queen had left you the task of researching in depth about the Targaryen lineage with valyrian blood and the right to claim a dragon, you did not refuse to comply with her orders, you were known for your intellect and interest about history, always with a different book under your arm, you handled data that the others did not, so you were in your comfort zone. However, you did not imagine it was going to be so complicated, you had had breakfast and lunch in the library in solitude, which meant that you had been locked up all day among papyrus, books written in the language of your family, you had read about the dragons still alive, especially Vermithor and Silverwing, but you found more than you needed and your attention jumped from subject to subject, you had never access to such a place and did it hold information on Targaryen history from the time of the conquerors to the reign of Jaehaerys I Targaryen.

"My lady," Elinda's voice, so soft and gentle as she addressed you, dissipated your attention causing you to turn your head up from your reading. The maid was standing in the doorway and you behind the wooden desk in the midst of your own chaos, you had ordered not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. "why don't you go upstairs to dine with the queen in parlor?"

"I'm fine, thank you." You smiled trying to put on your best face, the truth was you didn't want to appear before Rhaenyra without any advances.

Elinda sighed knowing she wasn't going to be able to convince you to come out for fresh air, she wasn't surprised at your response, always so stubborn and driven to your ideas.

"It's okay, I know you, so I went ahead and brought dinner up here." She said walking over with the silver tray holding a steaming plate and a cup. "Eat before you rest, you've spent a lot of time in this place, you haven't been eating well and we don't want your body to weaken."

You nodded and thanked her before she left. You watched the food from afar without appetite, so you went back to reading, the Targaryen bloodline had expanded to different places, moving out of King's Landing and Dragonstone to other lands. You were writing down the possible names of knights and ladies with what needed to claim a dragon, so far there weren't many options, but you didn't want to be left in doubt you looked everywhere. You stood up to look for another book that you had not yet read, this time from the houses to the north, you had a mess everywhere and on every table, open books, scattered papyrus, the shelves almost empty. Your notes on the other hand, Valyrian texts that you read without problems, as if a hurricane had swept away the order.

You took from the cup that Elinda had brought you with sweet wine to which you gave a generous gulp. You paced back and forth reading and reviewing the history, trying to find useful connections to the present, back and forth, flipping through the pages and drinking. When you started to get dizzy from the spinning you found no better idea than to sit on the table crossing your legs no matter how uncomfortable your clothes were, on your thighs you opened the heavy book so you could hold the glass in your hands.

"Are you still here?" Jacaerys had entered the library, taking you by surprise. The heir found you in the middle of the mess, surrounded by papers, sitting on the table which was frowned upon for a lady. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I think I hate the Targaryen." You sighed, relaxing your shoulders and looking up. Jacaerys smiled coming closer, watching the mess around you out of the corner of his eye, but he was sure you were the one to find what Rhaenyra was looking for. "Is that wine?" he pointed to your goblet raising his eyebrows.

"Elinda feeds me like an imprisoned animal."

"I doubt an imprisoned animal would be fed lamb and wine." This time it was you who smiled. "How are you doing with your mission?"

"I found some names that might be of use, let's hope they are still alive." You replied setting the cup aside, on top of other papers that were of no use to you at the moment. "The children of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alyssane were a great starting point that I cannot yet move on from."

"My mother asked about your absence at the table. I told her you needed time, and that I was going to keep an eye on you." You nodded, a little flushed at the last part, but you knew how to hide it.

"That's Visenya Targaryen?" Jace asked excitedly as he looked at the draw in the book open on your legs, moving closer to you to get a better look, invading your space.

"Queen Visenya," you corrected him causing him to apologize. "Vhagar's first rider." You looked at the image closely admiring her beauty, trying to take in the closeness of Jacaerys. "And the first in her name."

Jacaerys watched you from the corner of his eye biting the inside of his cheek, he liked the way you corrected him, even on some occasions when you chatted privately he would purposely get it wrong to make you angry. You just looked up meeting your fiancé's gaze, which made him realize he had gone silent.

"This place is…" the heir looked around you carefully analyzing the place, he didn't know how to continue the sentence without offending you.

"Say it, a complete mess." You sighed exhaustedly.

The prince nodded with concern for your well being, you are his fiancée and he had to take care of you, he looked at you noticing your tired eyes, your hair a bit messy falling a few unruly strands down your face, the dress disarranged on your shoulders. And somehow, through his eyes, even though it sounded bad and he didn't have the courage to admit it out loud, that was attractive.

He took a lock of your hair and tidied it behind your ear, it was a gesture he repeated and you liked it.

"Do you need help?" you denied immediately, you didn't want to look pitiful or desperate. "Don't be proud, I know you."

"Apparently it's not as simple as I imagined." You said discouraged, looking at the papers scattered around you. You closed the book putting it aside, you couldn't think anymore, you were blocked, tired and your body was asking you to eat and rest, maybe not in that order. You stretched your legs, still sitting on the table with Jacaerys watching you. "Targaryen dynasty is vast and diffuse, complex to trace, now I understand why several names are missing. I don't want Rhaenyra to be disappointed, I'm trying my best."

Hearing you, Jacaerys quickly interrupted placing his hand on your thigh unknowingly unleashing a shiver down your back. "The queen could not have chosen anyone better than you, you are the smartest lady I know." He said sincerely, positioning his other hand on your shoulder. "Go to sleep, you need it."

Tired, you rested your forehead on his shoulder resting on it. Jacaerys stroked your loose hair without removing his hand on your leg. The physical contact comforted you, but you didn't accept it often, so it was a surprise for the prince to have you so close.

"I'll dream of dragons." You joked with your eyes closed, Jace's scent intoxicating you immediately. "I'll stay a while longer, I think I know where to find a thread to pull on."

"Eat something first." He added as he noticed the tray with the untouched plate. His caresses relaxed you, feeling his fingers tangle in your hair made you feel a delicious shiver, so you let him repeat it, even his tone of voice relaxed your muscles.

"I'm not hungry yet."

Jacaerys swallowed hard as your warm breath hit his neck, bristling his skin. He didn't know how the hell she was managing to control himself like that, when she held you close his thoughts were easily confused and the heart was about to burst out of his chest. In a moment of weakness, the prince closed her eyes in order to intensify the sensations, in the middle of the silence and taking advantage of the hidden place where they were, she squeezed thigh on the fabric of the dress, it was not strong, just enough to steal a sigh and that now the tachycardia clouded your reason. You didn't know at what moment that comforting embrace turned into a boundary of something else, Jacaerys Velaryon stirred as he felt the tip of your nose brush against his exposed neck before you, a slow, torturous contact.

The heir's hands were too still, he was controlling himself as much as his duty allowed him. While you had little interest in complying with the damned traditions, they were teenagers, you couldn't ask much of them in that regard.

The tension of their bodies rubbing against each other grew with each movement in a pleasant and affectionate rhythm, but you urgently needed it to increase, so you opened your legs to surround his body with your thighs, the prince did not think a second to position himself between them taking advantage to squeeze your ass tearing you a sigh that vanished in his mouth. You brought your lips to his neck leaving kisses all over, Jacaerys did not want to stop you, he had fallen too easily into the game. The prince's hands were eager to touch as much as possible went up from your waist to your breasts, you had never seen him like that, then your fiancé sought your mouth before you kissed his bristling skin again.

"Jace…" you whispered against his lips touching slowly with yours, your warm breath hitting his face, he could hear the desperation in your call looking into your eyes, but his gaze was focused on your wet lips.

Shit. His name sounded so different when you said it.

It was he who had the courage - or the impulse - to make the move to close the distance between you, an accurate approach to trap your lips between his, his hand took your jaw and prey to your desires you opened your mouth to let his tongue enter your cavity, sticky, wet noises echoed off the stone walls as Jacaerys brushed his tongue along yours. The taste of sweet wine ended up intoxicating him as well. His slow movement caused a wave of heat to grow in the underside of your belly, you rested a hand behind the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his wavy hair.

Your heart could not calm down, on the contrary, it begged for more. The crown prince began to lift your red dress, a messy piece of infinite fabric, so you clumsily helped him by crumpling it until he slipped his hand underneath it, running his fingers over your bare skin playing with your sanity by how slowly he explored.

"Someone could see us at any moment." You reminded him that they weren't in the privacy of your quarters or his, trying to gesture because your labored breathing was making it hard to think.

"They can listen to whatever they want." He responde kissing your neck moving down to your collarbones, the heat of his mouth on your skin felt like the most exciting thing you had ever tasted. The intense grip on your legs didn't bother you at all because it was him, his deep voice made you bristle complete when he whispered too intoxicated in the moment to be his usual proper prince self. "I said I would take care of you."

You laughed at how little importance he gave to your innocent concerns, too sure that nothing was going to happen, but maybe it was just adrenaline and desire clouding his rational thoughts. Jacaerys kept going down, kissing between your breasts on the fabric, until he knelt before you, you held your breath when you understood his intentions, he raised his gaze towards you, an intense silence where your nobility was at stake for falling into carnal temptation, it was a few seconds until you decided to lift the skirt of your dress so he could have the access he desired.

Your fiancé began to kiss the inside of your thighs gently, just that minimal contact made you tremble on the table. "Don't close your legs." He ordered.

Your cheeks flared in heat as a reminder of the sin they were committing, yes, it was your fiancé who was between your legs unabashedly, but it was still Jace, whom you had known all your life and had grown up together, the most proper prince Westeros had ever seen, so devoted to duty that no one would imagine he would be able to steal your innocence out of wedlock, but there he was, he was the same, kneeling before you like a believer, kissing your thighs feeling his hot breath approaching your cunt exposed to his delight. The sighs coming out of your mouth were intensifying as Jacaerys swollen lips approached your most sensitive area making him beg, you felt he was toying with your sanity but he only wanted to extend your pleasure as long as you would hold out. Your hands clutched at the fabric of your dress, his wet tongue flicked across your cunt, he didn't quite finish his journey when your knees had the urgent urge to close like a natural spasm, but Jacaerys prevented it by holding your legs tightly apart for him, continuing his work of giving you the pleasure you deserved.

"Oh, Jace, gods." You said with bated breath, an emotional torture of not knowing how far you could go before you screamed. His tongue kept licking like candy, unabashedly tasting knowing what he was doing, moving up and down listening to your moans that excited him as much as it did you to feel his mouth on your center, the heir seemed to be having fun taking his time under your dress, reveling in your desperation. The warm wet sensation on your folds sliding down began to make you desperate, in an attempt to quiet your moans so as not to draw attention to yourself you bit your tongue so hard that the moan was one of pain rather than pleasure. You crumpled some papers in search of what to hold on to, you closed your eyes intensifying the spasms even more. "Jacaer…"

Saying his name seemed the most difficult task.

You managed to feel the crown prince's long fingers opening your pussy slippery with his saliva and your transparent wetness dripping. Again he ventured in with his mouth, this time with more euphoria and hunger, making little circles with his tongue, drowning himself in you tasting your cunt as he had never done to any of the whores on the island, with you he took great pains to get it right. Agitated, chest rising and falling from your erratic breathing the prince placed one of his hands on your belly as if he knew you were looking for him, intertwining his fingers you squeezed as his tongue pushed into your entrance. Curiosity as to how he learned to do that had to wait because your legs began to tremble and you began to move struggling against the strength of Jacaerys who wasn't going to stop servicing you until you were done.

"Please… Jace."

"You are so wet." Said the prince as an accomplishment, but you were embarrassed to know how vulnerable you were before him. The sound of his mouth playing with your clit, so wet and wrong, similar to a kiss where Jace was just doing all y he work. You searched for his head with your hand which was complicated by being hidden under your skirt, the damn dress prevented you from looking into his eyes, you wanted to look at him and beg his face not to stop now that you were so close to touching the best orgasm of your life. Jacaerys was struggling with your legs, so he put your thigh over his shoulder without letting go of your hand. "You have to hold on a little longer. I promise you'll like it."

"I c-can't." You cried trembling.

Between your legs, Prince Velaryon was reveling in your pleasure with a painful erection trapped in his pants that only hardened against the fabric with every high-pitched moan coming from your throat. He had to be strong to hold back the urge to take advantage of your wetness and penetrate you right then and there, that wasn't the first time he thought of you that way nor was it going to be the last after tonight, he would go to his quarters overwhelmed to attend to himself just thinking of you for another night. You were so open that with a little strength you could take it, but you were not ready for the moment and deep down, Jacaerys felt just as guilty for giving in to temptation by breaking traditions, disrespecting you to a lady of nobility.

"Jace, oh, like that." You moaned wiggling your hips.

But shit, he couldn't take one more moon without claiming that belongs to him. Your whole body, your every desperate moan and plea. It was an addictive melody that he didn't want it to end.

You reached for his head with your hand under the cloth that was being Jacaerys' salvation because if he saw your sweaty face, pink cheeks and pleading gestures he wasn't going to be able to hold back the urge, fucking you right there on that table. Merciful to your clumsiness, Jace took your hand turning it towards the back of his neck, you tangled his wavy hair between your fingers, bringing it closer to your center than it already was which only encouraged your fiancé to lose control by gently biting your cunt and with his finger caressing your exposed clit like a throbbing button.

"Gods!" You exclaimed so loudly that Jace feared for both of your lives. You covered your mouth yourself, waiting for someone to walk in and find them you sitting at the table with the heir kneeling between your legs under your dress. "I-I'm sorry." You whispered in exasperation.

"Scream whatever you want." It was a command rather than a comfort.

And you listened to him. Your body couldn't resist any longer, the spasms were getting stronger and Jacaerys knew you were close to orgasm, your legs faltered and couldn't hold still. You pulled your fiancé's hair, which instead of annoying him, he liked to feel. You mumbled incoherently, cursing everything, your hips couldn't stay still and Jacaerys' tongue wasn't making it any easier. You let go of the heir's hand on your belly to cover your mouth, however, Jace grabbed your wrist preventing that from happening. The rule had been clear, he wanted to hear you screaming his name to burn it into his memory, he wanted to hear your whimpers and pleas not to stop, your choked moans, the curses and incoherent ramblings.

"Jace!" your chest was rising and falling so fast you felt short of breath. The pressure between your legs was increasing, you closed your eyes tightly trying to hold on a second longer, but it was impossible. "Oh, shit!"

Your orgasm came as a spasm that controlled your whole body, from your hair to your legs. Jacaerys knew it when the tension in your muscles disappeared and he didn't have to exert any more force to hold you back. His pace slowed considerably, he didn't hold back from licking one last time.

Your body was wracked, aroused to return to normal. Your chest was expanding and contracting fast, the sweaty skin made it look shiny. Your body had peaked, and now, you missed Jacaerys' tongue between your legs. The heir stepped out from under your skirt, his mouth wet from his own saliva and your wetness in a mixture that soaked into his pink, swollen lips. The prince was red in the face, his hair falling down his face in the most exciting mess, he looked so good. He wiped his mouth with his clothes and fixed his hair behind his ears without taking eyes off you.

"You were very good lady." He stroked his thumb across your red cheek, you closed your eyes at his gentle, almost brotherly caress, a well-deserved congratulations. You were still weak and rambunctious with ragged breathing and a high pulse, your body wasn't going to withstand another orgasm, not for tonight. Jace moved closer to your face, he wanted to admire you up close, your exposed neck was the target of a kiss. "Did you like it?" he whispered so slowly against your ear that a shiver brought you back to reality. His breath beating against your damp skin was a reminder that you were completely crazy about him, no one in all of Westeros could service you so well.

You nodded in shame and innocence. You couldn't hear him, but you knew he was smiling.

"Y-yes." You replied looking into his eyes. Your innocent look reignited the fire in Jacaerys, who was still holding back the urge to fuck you.

The prince closed his eyes and swallowed saliva in frustration. He had to be aware that no matter how good it felt, it wasn't right.

"We can't do it here again." He took your face in his hands caressing your skin with his fingers. You nodded again, seeing you so obediently at his mercy only triggered his excitement, fighting until the last second. Jacaerys moved closer to your face, you closed your eyes expecting him to kiss you, but you only felt the brush of his lips against yours and his breath against your mouth. "Next time I'll rip that fucking dress off you myself with my bare hands."

[misspygmypie]

Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 11

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2904 Click here for Part 10

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

The day of Lando and Y/N’s wedding was everything they had hoped for: simple, intimate and filled with the people they loved most. The ceremony took place at a picturesque estate surrounded by gardens with a gentle breeze.

Lando stood at the altar, his best man, Max, stood beside him, a wide grin on his face as he gave Lando an encouraging pat on the back. The McLaren team was there, along with many of the F1 drivers, all gathered to celebrate this special day with their friend.

Y/N walked down the aisle and Lando’s breath caught in his throat. She looked breathtaking in her simple, elegant gown, her eyes locked on his as she made her way toward him. Noah was the ring bearer and he walked proudly ahead of her, holding the pillow with the rings carefully in his small hands.

The ceremony was beautiful, filled with heartfelt vows and promises of love and support. When they exchanged rings there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Noah stood close by, beaming with pride at his parents.

As dinner came to an end Max stood up to give his toast. He spoke about how he had seen Lando grow, both as a person and a driver and how meeting Y/N had only made him better. He joked about how he never thought he’d see the day when Lando would settle down but that Y/N had changed everything. When it was Y/N’s turn she stood with a glass in her hand. The room grew quiet as everyone waited for her to speak.

“I want to thank you all for being here with us today,” she began, her voice filled with emotion. “It means the world to us to have our family and friends here to celebrate our love. Lando and I have been on an incredible journey together and today is just the beginning of a new chapter.”

She paused, looking at Lando with a loving smile. “And as some of you might have noticed, I’m not drinking champagne tonight. That’s because…” She looked at Lando, her eyes shining with excitement.

Lando grinned, unable to hold back. “That’s because we’re expecting,” he announced, his voice full of pride and happiness.

There was a moment of stunned silence before the room erupted into cheers and applause. The drivers let out a few loud whoops and the McLaren team exchanged excited looks and pats on the back. Max stared at Lando and Y/N in shock before his face broke into a huge grin.

“I knew you two were up to something,” Max laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Congratulations, mate! That’s amazing news!”

Noah, who had been sitting at the table with his grandparents, beamed excitedly. He had known about the baby for a while and was thrilled that everyone else finally knew too. He jumped up from his seat and ran over to Lando and Y/N, hugging them tightly.

“I’m going to love the baby so much,” Noah declared proudly, looking up at his parents with bright eyes.

Y/N knelt down to hug him back, tears of joy in her eyes. “We know you will, Noah. You’re going to be an amazing big brother.”

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, congratulations and well wishes. The drivers joked about what the baby’s first words would be - something car-related, they all agreed - and the McLaren team started placing bets on when Lando would have the little one behind the wheel of a go-kart.

Lando and Y/N took to the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife. They swayed to the music, holding each other close, their hearts full of love and anticipation for the future. Their family was growing and so was their happiness. It was the perfect beginning to their new life together.

When the applause and cheers subsided Y/N and Lando were surrounded by friends and family eager to offer their congratulations. Max was the first to reach them, his face still lit up with shock and excitement.

“Lando, mate, you’ve been holding out on me,” Max exclaimed, pulling Lando into a tight hug. “I knew something was different, but this… this is incredible!” He pulled back, looking between Lando and Y/N with a grin. “So, when did you guys find out? You’ve been keeping this secret for how long?”

“We found out a few weeks ago,” Lando laughed, a little sheepishly, “but we wanted to wait for the right moment to tell everyone and today seemed like the perfect time.”

Max shook his head in amazement. “Well, you definitely know how to drop a bombshell! I’m just glad I didn’t say anything too wild in my speech.” He turned to Y/N, his tone softening. “Seriously, congratulations, Y/N. You’ve made this guy the happiest I’ve ever seen him. And now, with a baby on the way… it’s just perfect.”

Y/N smiled warmly, hugging Max. “Thank you, Max. We’re so happy you’re here to share this with us.”

As Max stepped aside, Cisca and Adam Norris approached, their faces glowing with pride and joy. Cisca was the first to speak, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.

“Oh, this is such wonderful news,” Cisca said, embracing Y/N tightly. “I’m so happy for both of you. Another grandchild! And on your wedding day, what a perfect gift.”

Adam nodded, a proud smile on his face as he pulled Lando into a hug. “You’ve done well, son. You’ve found yourself a wonderful partner and now you’re starting a family. We couldn’t be more thrilled for you both.”

“Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mum. It means a lot to have your support.”

Cisca turned to Noah, who had been standing proudly beside his parents. She crouched down to his level, her eyes sparkling. “And you, Noah! You’re going to be a big brother! How do you feel about that?”

Noah grinned from ear to ear. “I’m so excited, Grandma! I’m going to teach the baby everything I know.”

“I’m sure you will, darling. You’re going to be a wonderful big brother,” Cisca laughed, pulling Noah into a warm hug. 

Adam ruffled Noah’s hair softly and grinned. “You’ll have to show them how to drive, too. Maybe we’ll have another racing prodigy in the family!”

As the family shared in the moment, Oscar made his way over, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a look of genuine excitement. “Wow, Lando, Y/N, congratulations! This is amazing news,” Oscar said, shaking Lando’s hand and then giving Y/N a gentle hug. “I had no idea you guys were expecting. You really kept this one under wraps!”

Y/N laughed. “It wasn’t easy, especially with all the race weekends and the cameras everywhere but we managed!”

“Well, I’m really happy for you both. And Noah, you’re going to be the coolest big brother ever.”

Noah puffed out his chest with pride. “I know, right?”

The group shared a laugh before Oscar continued, “You know, Lando, you’re going to have to start thinking about baby names now. And don’t even think about naming them after a racing circuit.”

Lando chuckled, exchanging a playful look with Y/N. “No Zandvoort or Monaco, then? What about Imola?”

“Absolutely not!” Y/N almost shouted but smirking. “We’ll pick something a little more traditional, I think.”

_______

Lando, Y/N, and Noah were sitting together in their living room, the excitement of the baby’s impending arrival filling the air. Max was with them, sensing something special was about to happen but not entirely sure what.

“Max,” Lando started, “we’ve been meaning to talk to you about something really important.”

Noah, nearly bursting with excitement, handed Max a small, wrapped box. “Here, Uncle Max! Open it!”

Max, curious and motivated by Noah’s enthusiasm, took the box and carefully unwrapped it. Inside, he found a small, elegant frame with an ultrasound photo. Written underneath the photo were the words, “My name is Maebry. Will you be my godfather?”

Max’s expression softened immediately. He read the words, his eyes lingering on the name, and then he looked up at Lando and Y/N, visibly moved. “Maebry… That’s such a beautiful name,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And you want me to be her godfather?”

“We can’t think of anyone better, Max. You’ve always been there for us and we know you’ll be there for her too.”

“You’re family to us, Max,” Lando, feeling the weight of the moment, added. “We know you’ll be an amazing godfather, someone Maebry can look up to and rely on. It would mean the world to us.”

Max swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears. He looked down at the frame again, his fingers tracing the words. “I… I don’t even know what to say. I’m so honored that you’d ask me. Maebry’s not even here yet and I already feel like she’s going to change my life.”

Noah, sensing Max’s emotion, quickly climbed up onto the couch next to him and let his tiny arms wrap themselves around his neck. “We love you, Uncle Max. Maebry’s going to love you too.”

“I love you guys too. And I promise, I’ll be the best godfather I can be. I’ll always be there for her, for all of you.”

Lando, also feeling emotional, reached over and placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Thank you, mate. This means so much to us.”

Max finally let the tears fall. He had never felt so overwhelmed but happy before. “Thank you for trusting me with this. I can’t wait to meet Maebry and be a part of her life.”

______

The day had finally arrived and the anticipation was palpable. Y/N had been feeling contractions throughout the night but as dawn broke they became more intense and frequent. Lando was at her side, doing his best to remain calm but his nerves were getting the better of him. His fingers fidgeted, his foot tapped anxiously and every time Y/N winced, he felt a surge of worry.

“You’re doing great, love,” Lando whispered, though his voice betrayed his own anxiety. He brushed a stray hair from her face and squeezed her hand, trying to be her rock even as his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

Y/N smiled weakly, sensing his nerves. “We’ve got this, Lando. Everything’s going to be fine.”

He nodded, but the knot in his stomach didn’t ease. Lando had been through countless high-pressure situations on the track but this was different. This was their child, their family and the weight of that responsibility was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Meanwhile, Noah was back at home with his grandparents, Cisca and Adam. They were doing their best to keep him entertained but nothing could fully distract him from the excitement bubbling up inside him. He had been talking about becoming a big brother for months and now that the moment was here, he could hardly sit still.

“Is she here yet? Is Maebry here?” Noah asked for the umpteenth time, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Cisca said gently, ruffling his hair. “But it won’t be long now. How about we draw a picture for her while we wait?”

Noah nodded eagerly, grabbing his crayons and paper. As he worked on his drawing his mind raced with thoughts of what it would be like to have a little sister. He imagined all the things he would teach her, all the games they would play and how he would protect her no matter what.

Back at the hospital, the hours seemed to stretch on endlessly. Lando did his best to keep Y/N comfortable, fetching ice chips, adjusting pillows, and holding her hand through every contraction. But beneath it all, he was a bundle of nerves, worried about everything going perfectly.

As Y/N’s contractions grew closer together the medical team prepared for delivery. Lando stood by her side, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see the strain on her face and it made him feel helpless. He wanted to take her pain away, to make it easier for her but all he could do was be there.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the room was filled with the first cries of their newborn daughter, Maebry.

“She’s here,” Lando choked out, tears welling up in his eyes. The nurse placed Maebry on Y/N’s chest and Lando leaned down to kiss her forehead, overwhelmed with love and relief.

Y/N’s face softened as she looked down at Maebry, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She’s perfect,” she whispered, brushing her finger along Maebry’s tiny hand.

Lando nodded, unable to find his voice. He simply watched in awe as Y/N held their daughter, the magnitude of the moment hitting him like a tidal wave. This was his family, his life and it was more beautiful than he ever could have imagined. Y/N gently handed Maebry over to Lando. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding.

Lando looked down at Maebry, who was nestled snugly in the soft hospital blanket. Her tiny face, with its delicate features, was now in his arms. His fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted his hold, ensuring she was secure and comfortable. The weight of her small, fragile body was so different from the confident, adventurous Noah he had met when he was already four years old. The experience of holding his own child was new, a feeling he hadn’t fully anticipated.

He studied her intently, his eyes tracing the curve of her tiny nose and the delicate flutter of her lashes. She had the same dark hair as him and could see soft, tiny curls already forming on her head. Maebry’s warmth seeped into him, a sensation so intimate and different from anything he had ever felt before. The love he felt for her was immediate and overwhelming, an intense bond that seemed to envelop him.

Lando glanced over at Y/N, who watched with a soft smile, her eyes filled with pride and happiness. “She’s so tiny,” he whispered, almost as if speaking to himself. “I never imagined it would feel like this.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

Lando’s gaze returned to Maebry, his heart swelling with emotion. “Yeah, she is.”

As he gently rocked her in his arms he thought back to when he first met Noah. He remembered the excitement and uncertainty of becoming a father figure for the first time. Holding Noah and being there for him had been a life-changing experience but this was different. This was his daughter, a new chapter in their lives. The love he felt for Maebry was profound but it didn’t diminish the love he had for Noah. In fact, it only added to it.

Meanwhile, Cisca and Adam were preparing to bring Noah to the hospital. When they finally told him the news his eyes lit up with pure excitement. “Is she really here? Can I meet her now?”

“Yes, she’s here,” Adam said with a smile, taking Noah’s hand. “And she’s waiting to meet her big brother.”

When they arrived at the hospital Noah practically buzzed, his little feet moving quickly as he walked with his grandparents. He couldn’t wait to see his baby sister, to hold her and tell her all the things he had been saving up to share.

When they reached Y/N’s room, Lando looked up and smiled, his face still flushed with emotion. “Hey, buddy,” he said, waving Noah over. “Come meet your little sister.”

Noah’s breath caught as he approached the bed. His eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of Maebry nestled in Y/N’s arms. For a moment, he simply stood there, his mouth slightly open in awe.

“She’s so tiny,” Noah finally exclaimed, inching closer to get a better look.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling as she watched the wonder in Noah’s eyes. “She is. And she’s so lucky to have you as her big brother.”

Cisca and Adam watched from the doorway, pride evident on their faces as they witnessed the first moments between their grandchildren. Lando gently lifted Noah onto the bed so he could get a better view of the baby.

“Hi, Maebry,” Noah whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I’m your big brother. I’m going to take care of you, okay?” 

He reached out cautiously, his little hand gently brushing against Maebry’s tiny fingers. She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for just a moment.

“She’s looking at me,” Noah gasped, his excitement bubbling over.

Y/N smiled, feeling tears of joy prick her eyes. “She knows who you are, Noah. She knows you’re her big brother.”

In that moment, Lando felt his nerves finally settle, replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace. Their family was complete and the love that filled the room was more than he could have ever hoped for.

When they all gathered around Maebry, Lando looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with nothing but devotion. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice choking with emotion.

Y/N nodded, resting her head against his shoulder. “We did and it’s perfect.”

Noah leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving his sister. “Welcome to the family, Maebry,” he whispered, his voice full of love.

______

Stay tuned for the last one, Part 12!

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings @poppyflower-22 @vickykazuya @hadids-world @ririyulife @deafeningunknowntyrant @lexiecampos @littlegrapejuice @eloriis @yawn-zi @landossainz @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @casuallyeating @jaydensluv @destinyg237 @il0vereadingstuff @lnchicagosreads @alana4610 @hc-dutch @cherry-piee @wisestarfishbouquet

[taskforce420]

tap out. simon 'ghost' riley

it didn't take a genius to know that simon riley, had been through hell. no family, close to no friends outside of his line of work. he was the shell of a man, a living ghost if you will; but people knew he was not one to be taunted or made fun of. sure he was a broken man, but he'd never take disrespect.

it did take a genius to know that you, had been through hell. no family, close to no friends outside of your line of work. you were quiet, always kept to yourself, never caused much trouble, unless you were on the field getting your hands dirty- bloody even. no one knew about your past, your story. but you liked it that way.

so, here you and ghost stood. arms behind your back, standing at ease, looking straight ahead.

as of right now, a common army tradition was ongoing, 'tap out' it was called, where the soldiers stood at ease as they waited for their loved ones to tap them out, letting them move, talk, interact with their family etc.

your gaze slowly shifted from the ground, to the families crying tears of happiness as they saw their son or daughter again after months or years of them being gone. mothers held their sons close to them, fathers cheered and praised their daughters for their accomplishments.

and you? well, you stood there, wishing to yourself, that maybe seeing your mother and father pass away was all a dream and that you'd see them walking over to you any minute, with wide smiles and excited cheers.

and ghost? well, he didn't care about the fact that no one was there to see him, to congratulate him; he cared that you, his closet friend since the beginning of training, was stood there. alone.

he didn't understand why, but he could probably guess. nonetheless, he watched as you uncomfortably shifted your weight from one foot to the other. he noticed you didn't want to be there, didn't want to have to listen to the laughs and 'hellos' of mothers and fathers.

ghost could relate, he let out a deep sigh; letting his arms drop to his side, he moved from his spot. he knew full well that he was breaking rules but as of now, he didn't care. not one bit. he walked over to you, eyes meeting with yours almost instantly.

"come on, luv." he said, as comforting as he possibly could. he raised his hand to your shoulder, officially tapping you out. he could see the hurt in your eyes.

"thanks, si" he nodded as you thanked him, he felt horrible knowing your pain.

you let your hands come to your sides, subconsciously, you started to fidget. your rough fingertips played with the hem of your t-shirt. "its not fair that they make us do this.." you said softly, head hanging low, watching your feet as you both walked back into the base, knowing you had nothing better to do.

"mhm" is all ghost said as he looked down at you, clearly seeing your defeated mood. "i wouldn't dwell on it, sweetheart. i know what your thinking" you nodded, not really bothered to speak. you appreciated ghost walking with you though, keeping you company.

"your family is here now, us, me...soap, gaz, price. the whole force, your brothers, your sisters" ghost spoke. you knew he was right, you got along incredibly well with the members of Task Force 141, there were many years full of core memories with the lot of them.

like the time when you and soap got bored one night so you snuck out of the base and found yourselves at a water bank, completely soaked from jumping in. you both laughed uncontrollably as you splashed one another.

or even when you and price sat in his office, having a deep conversation about previous missions, his past, life in general. you two agreed that you had bonded, ending the night with a simple hug.

or that time when you and gaz decided to go a nearby bar, its safe to say that you both got absolutely hammered from the mixed alcohol in your system. you laughed with one another as you stumbled back to base, holding onto one another. laughing even harder as price and soap caught you in your drunken state.

or...or even the time with ghost.

when you two lay on his dishevelled bed, your back to his chest, his arm lazily thrown around your waist, holding you against him for comfort. his hand traced the scars on your waist, your hips, your legs. you stared out the window, smiling to yourself. nothing serious had happened...you both just adored the company of one another, which is why you found yourself falling asleep to the feeling his breaths on your shoulder, and his hand caressing your skin. "you okay?" he had asked you, moving to lie on his back. you had turned to face him. smiling when you saw him already looking at you, his arm rest behind his head. "mhm, always" you had softly spoke.

you smiled to yourself as you finally walked into the base, simon still by your side. "yeah..you're right" you said looking up at the large man. he happened to look down at you, you swear you could see him smile beneath his mask.

"i know..."

lemme know if you guys would like a pt. 2 :)

[adore-laur]

would love to see how dadrry would react if his girls asked him for a baby brother 🤭

——

During dinner, after Harry picked the girls up from preschool and daycare, your eldest rambles on about her classroom adventures through spoonfuls of homemade fruit pasta. You smile at her with an undefinable amount of fondness while hanging on to every word. She seems to be loving school and adapting just fine to not seeing her parents as often throughout the weekdays. It could crumble your heart into ruins if you let it, but you focus on the bright side: it's one less thing to worry about when you're away from your babies. She's safe, she's happy, and while you miss her dearly during the day, her independence is blooming beautifully. It's evident in how she can hardly sit still in the morning.

Harry listens intently, only interspersing questions when appropriate so as not to make her lose her train of thought. Your youngest is sitting on his lap, secured by his fingers splayed across her tummy, while his other hand absentmindedly pretends to be an airplane serving applesauce straight into her awaiting mouth. It's a blissfully domestic scene, and you sometimes wish you could view it outside of your body and witness the pure, tangible love surrounding the kitchen table from an outsider's perspective.

The mellow evening sunlight washes the room in a dandelion-colored hue, and the California heat floats through the window to warm your soul. Crashing ocean waves accompany the sound of silverware clinking and the sweet lilt of your daughter's voice. With the weekend ahead, you feel a strong sense of contentedness. Being at home with the entire family, with no obligations pulling you apart, feels like diving into a pool on a hot summer day—it relaxes your muscles and rejuvenates your mind.

In the middle of a story about finding worms on the pavement at recess, your daughter, with unbridled enthusiasm, says, "A friend I talked to today told me she has a baby brother."

"Really?" Harry replies, matching her enthusiasm. "Did you tell her you have a sister?"

"Yeah, and I also told her I want a brother."

The bite of grilled chicken you swallow almost gets stuck on the way down your esophagus. Your eyes shoot to Harry, whose eyes are already locked on yours with humorous shock swimming in them. He hides his smile against the baby's head before kissing it and waving his hand, silently signaling for you to take the lead.

"A brother," you say slowly, fidgeting with the napkin beside your plate. "You want a baby brother. When... sorry, how long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since today at school!" On the high chair, she sits on her knees and beams with excitement. "My friend says her brother is cute and fat. Now I want one."

Harry, your savior, jumps in by saying, "Your baby sister is cute. And, well, she's chubby." He pats her precious little potbelly and bounces her in his lap. "Like most babies are."

"I want a baby sister and brother."

"Why do you want a brother?" you ask, mystified by the unexpected dinner conversation. Before her little sister was conceived, she only asked for a sibling. Now she's getting specific, and you're lost on how to answer adequately.

"Because." Dead silence follows her response as she stabs her silicone fork into the last pineapple tidbit in her bowl.

"Fair enough," Harry says. There's a sneaky glint in his gaze, and you know he's enjoying this subject matter far too much. You never have to worry about bringing up the prospect of having another baby together since you know he's all in. But since you're the one who carries the babies and pushes them out, he understands you're not quite ready yet. Or, at least, your body isn't.

"We can't guarantee you a brother," you say gently. "That's not how it works."

She frowns, looking at you and then at Harry. "How does it work?"

Harry snorts and stands up to begin clearing the empty dishes. "You should save that question for another time, lovebug." He kisses her cheek as he passes by. "C'mon, show me how Mommy taught you to wash your hands."

——

Later that night in bed, you lay your head on Harry's bare chest and delicately trace your fingers along the length of his bicep. The room is still, and his breathing is a constant sound and rhythm against your skin. Knowing you get to bask in his presence all day tomorrow is a wonderful thought to fall asleep to.

The weekend plans are still in discussion. Maybe you'll all just stay home and have a beach day. Maybe you'll take the kids to the park and fly the kites Harry recently bought for a breezy day. Whatever may come, you know there will be love and laughter in abundance.

"I need your breakfast order for tomorrow," Harry says, his voice gruff. He had a busy day at work, so you took over the kid's bedtime routine while he luxuriated in a long, hot shower and did his nightly stretches.

"I can get up to help," you reply. You know it's quite literally his job to cook meals for people, but you want to take a load off his shoulders. Going into parent mode after a long work week is no easy feat for anyone. It requires teamwork.

"No, you're sleeping in." He wraps you in his arms and buries his nose into your hair. "I'm serving you breakfast in bed with a side of cuddles."

You smile sleepily. "I'd like that. I'll eat whatever you make, by the way. Surprise me."

He squeezes you, slides his thigh between yours, and murmurs, "Think I'll eat you instead."

You lift your head and kiss his mint-flavored lips to shut him up. He always likes to start things right before bedtime. There's something about the intimacy of being alone with the door locked in the quiet of the night with the man who you wake up to every morning. It's rare to indulge in moments like these.

"So, a baby brother, huh?" you say, switching gears to more innocent matters. You need all the sleep you can get tonight.

Harry laughs, his eyebrows raised as he rubs a hand down his face. "She kind of demanded it, didn't she?"

"Oh, don't even start with that." He'll use anything as a way to inspire the idea of baby number three.

"You know my answer. And hers, apparently. I'll be patiently waiting here until you say the word."

"What's the word?"

He hums a deep rumble beneath you. "Um... let's make another baby."

"How discreet," you say, laying your head back on his chest. "Anyway, I think a two-year gap is what works best. It gives me time to, you know, recover from the craziness and sleep deprivation."

"You want another baby with me?"

The fact that he even has to ask is befuddling. There is no one you'd rather do this with. He's the best husband and the best father, and the family you created with him is just beginning.

"Yeah," you say softly, admiring the vulnerable look in his eyes. "One more. Maybe two."

Harry pleasurably groans and shifts his hips, the mere idea of knocking you up again somehow turning him on. You feel his hardness, which makes you roll your eyes. Men are too easy. "Take all the time you need, sweetheart. I'm tremendously happy with what we have right now."

"What if we have another girl?"

"Then consider me the luckiest man in the universe." He tilts his head on the pillow. "Is it bad if I secretly hope that happens?"

"Three princesses to spoil rotten."

"Four," he whispers, tapping his fingers along your spine. With a sigh, he adds, "It's been hard being away from them. From you."

Although he keeps his promise of always being home by dinnertime, he doesn't always get to drop the girls off in the morning. By the time you get them settled in the car, he's already in the trenches at work. To make up for it, he cooks their breakfasts and kisses them goodbye before he leaves.

"We have our trip to Italy next month," you mention.

"Fuck, that's right." Harry seamlessly flips you over so that he's hovering over you. "Perfect time and place for babymaking. Maybe we should start practicing right now."

You place your palm over his mouth and say, "Shut up."

For the next hour, he uses his mouth for… other reasons.

——

[five-bi-five-mind]

New Addition

Fandom: Marvel

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Words: 5.5k+

Genre: Fluff & Smutt

Summary: After things get serious with Wanda, she's finally ready to let you meet the twins. When everything just clicks with all of you, Wanda is even more smitten and so are you. So much so, that she might be getting a little ahead of herself...

Warnings: fingering (r receiving); biting, strap-on use (r receiving); magic strap; mommy kink; praise; pet-names; cum-filled strap; top!Wanda, bottom!r; breeding kink (maybe?); let me know if I forgot things...

A/N: So this was a request I received on another Wanda fic of mine posted to AO3... figured I'd run with it. Also kinda hate both the name and the gif I came up with for this fic but oh well... anyways, yay 1k celebrationnnnn

Another New Addition (Part 2)

“You did so good with them,” Wanda said with a soft smile. Her back pressed against the door as you walked further into her bedroom. “They absolutely loved you.” 

“I loved them too.” You returned her smile before turning around and taking in her room. Never had you stepped foot in here. You were honestly giddy just being in her home and taking in her surroundings, but now to finally be in her bedroom, a place that was so private and intimate to her… Well, you were over the moon.

In fact, you could probably say that you were glowing. In the six months that you had been with Wanda, you both decided to take things relatively slow. Any nights alone with her were spent at your apartment, not hers. You were totally okay with that. With Wanda having two boys, you knew what a big step it was to introduce you to them. That was always the plan though. Wanda had discussed it with you in detail. Once things got serious, if they got serious, you’d be slowly and gently integrated into their family dynamic. 

And of course, things got serious. What with Wanda blurting out how much she loved you within the first three months of your relationship and you immediately returning that sentiment with teary eyes. Still, you spent three months adjusting to that new development before you even thought about meeting her kids.

But then it finally came time to see them. Wanda approached you with a smile on her face, the one she got whenever she wanted something, and you willingly listened to her plea. Maybe the idea of meeting them utterly terrified you, but only because you knew how important it was for you to bond with them. You prepared yourself for some awkwardness, maybe even a little rejection from them at first. Lucky for you, you didn’t even need to worry at all. 

They were hesitant at first, but so were you. Wanda nudged the three of you along for maybe the first hour of meeting each other, but then it was like everything fell into place. It helped that deep inside you were kind of a big nerd. When they talked about their interests you immediately jumped in. That led Tommy to immediately beg for you to see all their stuff and Billy to tug you through the house until you reached their room. They then proceeded to give you a tour of what was quite possibly all of the items they ever owned. You nodded excitedly as they each took turns explaining just about everything in their possession and that just added to their excitement too. It felt like maybe minutes went by, but in reality over an hour had passed. 

Wanda, the whole time, just stood back and watched with the brightest smile glued to her face. The amount of pride and love she had for her boys was so evident in everything she did, but you didn’t have to see to know that. The way she would talk about them for hours with so much happiness in her voice had already told you as much, and you loved to listen to her talk about her family. Anytime she did, you couldn’t stop yourself from daydreaming about being added to their dynamic. It didn’t help that her love for you was also just as evident, making it easier for you to rationalize how easily you could fit in with the three of them. And as Wanda watched with delight at how fast you all clicked, she was filled with those same daydreams you often had. 

When it was rounding on three hours of you and the boys just spending time together, she finally broke the three of you out of your moment. It was probably important for all of you to eat even if you were just as disappointed as the twins when the three of you were torn from their extra detailed room tour. Wanda had to bite her lip to hold back a cheeky grin when she saw you following the boys out of their room with a matching pout. 

What really won you points with them was your insistence on pizza instead of Wanda putting in even more effort to orchestrate this perfect night with a fancy home-cooked dinner. She already worked so hard, she didn’t need to prepare some sort of three course meal too. Plus, the boys were over the moon for the idea of pizza and even more so when you said your favorite toppings were the same as theirs.

After full stomachs and more exciting conversation over just about everything the twins loved, you all settled with a movie. The movie was probably the hardest thing to pay attention to. The boys curled up on one side of the room, their eyes glued to whatever action scenes were unfolding on the screen. You weren’t really sure what the plot was and you didn’t even remember the movie title, not when Wanda had you wrapped up in her arms. 

It was all honestly very innocent. You leaned back on Wanda and she pulled a blanket over you both. Her fingers were innocently running up and down your arms as the movie went on, and while it was nothing inappropriate, it still made your heart race at the intimacy of it all. How could you pay attention to the movie when you were wrapped in the arms of the woman you loved and felt like you were instantly accepted into her family? You couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. 

As the movie continued, you looked across the room at her two boys who were slowly falling asleep while trying and failing to remain focused on the screen. There was a soft smile on your lips that had practically never left since the moment Wanda got comfy with you on the couch. As silly as it might be, you couldn’t help but think that you could get used to this. Your mind wandered to the idea of having weekly evenings like this, quietly spending time with Wanda and her family until they all finally saw you as their family too. Never had you wanted something more strongly than for this night to become a regular occurrence. Maybe it was too fast. After all, you just met the boys and you’ve been dating Wanda for less than a year, but something inside you just said that all of this was right. It was a gut feeling that told you this is exactly where you were supposed to be. With Wanda, helping raise the boys if she’d let you, and spending every day of the rest of your life loving the three of them with everything you had.

You rubbed at your eyes, feeling a little sappy for the tears that welled there from the realization of just how perfect everything was. Wanda took your movement as a sign that maybe you were just as sleepy as the boys, whispering in your ear if maybe the four of you should finish the movie another night. Wanda didn’t buy it when you shook your head and tried to convince her you weren’t that sleepy. 

Of course, no matter how convincing you were, the boys really were not. They were struggling to keep their eyes open, their little heads nodding back onto the couch every few minutes before they jostled themselves awake. While they weren’t in love with the idea of calling the night early, Wanda was so good with them and convincing that they eventually agreed. What really got to you, in a good way, was that Wanda promised you’d be back for another night like this and that’s what finally eased their minds enough to agree to tuck in for bed. 

After she had them all tucked in, they were both in a deep sleep within minutes. You hung back while Wanda got them ready for bed, but you heard the way she cooed at them and cared for them as they settled into bed. While she was doing that, you were sitting alone, waiting for her to guide you to her bedroom. It was at this point in the night that anxiousness crept back in. Both of you had talked about it and planned for this to also be the first time you were to sleep over at her house too. There had been plenty of times where Wanda had got a sitter overnight and stayed with you, but this still felt very new. It was a big deal, and you were getting a little in your head about it.

Eventually, Wanda returned to you, slipping her hand in yours and pulling you towards her bedroom. Her soft smile matched the one you had worn earlier and you tried to match it, but nerves were getting the best of you. If Wanda noticed, she didn’t say much. She just introduced you to her room and motioned for you to walk in before she followed behind you.

And now, here you both were. Her smile was large as she praised you for the day and your nerves had momentarily left your body as you beamed proudly back at her.

They really did seem to get along well with you and it was so important for both you and Wanda that that happened. It was like a dream come true honestly, to be so quickly accepted by her kids and to so quickly accept them too. You were excited about what the future could bring, if the four of you could truly be one big happy family like you hoped. It had been one evening, but suddenly you found yourself wanting that future more than anything else you’ve ever wanted in your entire life. As Wanda smiled back at you, you thought maybe you could confidently guess that she wanted the exact same. 

“Was it too presumptuous of me to promise the boys another family night?” Wanda looked at you with the most hopeful eyes as she spoke.

Family Night. Those words made your heart flutter. It really did seem like Wanda felt what you were feeling about the whole evening. It was like this meant-to-be connection between all of you. You knew Wanda was the one for you the moment you two met, and Wanda had hinted that the feeling was mutual too. Now, since you’ve met her family, that same gut feeling was even stronger. It felt like, not only was Wanda meant to be your person, but the three of them were meant to be your family too. 

“No, no, no.” You were maybe too eager to convince Wanda you were more than happy with that. “It wasn’t too presumptuous.”

Wanda pushed herself off from where she was leaning on her bedroom door. In a few steps, she was suddenly in front of you, her arms wrapped around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. 

“Really?” She smiled and you nodded enthusiastically. Her lips pressed to yours in a gentle, but brief kiss. 

“I’d love to do it again,” you said against her lips, leaning back in for more. “And again…” you kissed her once. “And again…” you kissed her once more. “And again.”

Wanda pulled back to look at you, her smile so contagious it made you forget all about your nervousness that you had just moments ago. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.” Wanda pressed her forehead to yours as she spoke. She placed her hands on either of your cheeks and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into her touch. “I’ve been picturing this since the day I met you and it was all so perfect. You’re perfect.”

You closed your eyes as she spoke such sweet words to you. It was all making you so incredibly happy that you were at a loss for words. Your hands came up to cover Wanda’s and you turned your head to kiss the palm of one of her hands. She hummed softly to herself for a second, her forehead still pressed to yours.

You both stayed like that for a moment, basking in how happy and in love both of you were. One of the biggest things about tonight, other than being accepted by the two most important people in Wanda’s life, was that all of this just made your love for her even stronger. Wanda, of course, felt the exact same way. 

As she watched you, she was in awe of how good you were with them. It was almost like you slipped into a role she had never seen from you, but had hoped was there or would develop over time. As the boys talked to you about their interests and their lives, you showed this almost maternal side; one that knew how to respond to even the silliest of things they said to you. And then you also had this goofy, friendly side to you that matched her boys’ energy so perfectly, it was like a match made in heaven. As Wanda watched you throughout the night, she couldn’t imagine a better partner to integrate into her family dynamic. 

When the movie was playing, Wanda was filled with daydreams of what making you a permanent part of her family would look like. The evenings you’d spend with her and the twins, the adventures you’d all go on, the fun and love you’d share. To Wanda, those daydreams felt very possible to actualize and she planned to do so. Wanda knew, when she first met you, that you would be someone good for her boys, and she felt even more validated as the evening went on.

As Wanda was promising the boys that you would be back, she was consumed with thoughts of how fast she really could convince you to take more steps into a bigger commitment with her. There were quick little thoughts that popped into her mind about proposing, asking you to move in, talking to you about future building in a more real and permanent sense. She had a small worry that she was moving too fast. Not in a way that she thought things between the two of you would go bad, but just that she didn’t want to bombard you with so much so quickly. Except, these little thoughts about a future with you got bigger and louder as she pulled you to her bedroom. In the short walk it took to drag you through her halls, she started having ideas about even expanding the family with you. Seeing you not only become a co-parent to her twins, but carrying and being a mother to another child of hers. 

That last idea was even stronger when she finally had her arms around you in the privacy of her own bedroom. She was getting ahead of herself with all of these images of you becoming her wife and her coming home to you, her boys, and possibly a new addition to her family. The thought of you and her creating a new life together was starting to intrigue her. Maybe a little too much… 

Wanda leaned into you again, placing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The kind that had you leaning forward for more when she pulled away. She let out a soft laugh at your actions, but continued to deny you another kiss to your lips. Instead, she pressed hers to your cheek and then your other, showering you with soft kisses all over your face and enjoying the warmth she felt rise on your skin from her actions. 

You couldn’t stop your smile from growing as she treated you with such tenderness. Your heart raced as she moved her lips to jaw and then cupped your chin to tilt your head and press her lips to your pulse point. She trailed her lips down your neck then, with feather light kisses as she went. Her hands moved down to encircle your waist again and press the two of you even closer together. Your head swam at the feeling of her lips on you and being engulfed in her warmth. She really was perfect for you. It was like she knew exactly how to make you melt in the palm of her hand. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Wanda murmured against your neck, her teeth lightly nibbling at the skin there. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her lips on your neck and you hummed an incoherent response. “I love you so much,” Wanda continued, her lips moving back up to your own before placing another kiss to them.

“And I love you,” You whispered into the kiss. Wanda kissed you again at that, but this time a little harder. The kiss was slow, but she was moving her lips against yours in such a way that had you already feeling drunk on them alone. Your lips parted and Wanda’s tongue peeked out, running against yours ever so slightly, but just enough to cause you to shiver. And then, all too soon she pulled away, leaving you breathless in her wake. 

“I’ve been working on something I want to try…” Wanda’s voice was quiet as she pulled back slightly. You’ve seen a lot of sides of Wanda, but this one was a little new. It almost seemed like she was shy, nervous even, for whatever she had in mind. 

You met her eyes, giving her a gentle smile while you waited for her to continue. The arms around you moved, hands slipping underneath your shirt to press flat to your back. She ran her hands up slowly as she nibbled on her lip, you could tell she was hesitant about what she would say next. 

“Wanda,” you urged. “What is it?” You let out a soft, nervous giggle. Whatever she had in mind had you excited already, but the way she was being so withholding about it made waiting for the reveal a little anxiety inducing. 

“Do you trust me?” Her eyes sparkled as she leaned back in. 

“Of course,” you said breathlessly, waiting for her lips to press against yours once more. This time when they did, her hands pressed your body fully against her own when your lips met. The way she kissed you had your head spinning. It wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle. It was hungry.

When you parted your lips for her, she licked into your mouth and you couldn’t help the soft moan that broke free. This only egged Wanda on further, moving her hands until she was pulling your shirt up and then completely off. In the moment that her actions broke the kiss you took a deep breath before Wanda’s lips smashed back into yours. Your hands tangled in her hair and you pressed yourself against her as if any minuscule amount of space was too much for you. 

“Are you sure?” Wanda mumbled against your lips, but you were too lost in hers to respond. 

Wanda pulled her head back and chuckled at the pout that followed after. “Baby, are you sure?” Wanda asked again, to which you fervently nodded. “Will you let me try something, then?”

“Anything,” you mumbled.

“Good…” Wanda trailed off before pushing you to walk backwards until your legs hit the foot of the bed. “Sit back for me, pretty girl.” You did as you were told, your face flushed a darker shade of pink from her use of pet names. 

Wanda leaned down over you as you scooted yourself onto the bed, hooking her hands into your belt loops. You knew what she wanted and one hand quickly went to unbutton your jeans before she gave them a hard yank towards her. With some awkward maneuvering, you helped her get them all the way off your body, along with your panties, and then looked up expectantly at her. 

Her clothes met yours on her bedroom floor. Both of you stood still for second, each taking in the other’s naked form. Wanda was gorgeous, standing there in nothing in front of you and she thought the same as you sat propped up on her bed. 

After a moment, Wanda lifted her hand up and you watched as she briefly flicked her fingers. Then, when her eyes moved down her own body, yours followed and your eyes practically bugged out of your head. Okay, this was something new. 

Between her legs, attached with straps, was a dark red dildo. It wasn’t small, but you didn’t think it was necessarily too big either. It wasn’t like you weren’t interested in trying this with Wanda, it was just that you two hadn’t even talked about introducing toys in the bedroom yet and suddenly, with a literal snap of her fingers, it was there in front of you. 

Wanda looked back up at you, a subtle swirl of red shining in her eyes. “Is this okay?” Wanda flicked her eyes back down to the toy between her legs before looking up at you again. 

Your mouth went dry, trying to find the words to tell her yes; it was more than okay. But you were also nervous with anticipation for her to finally touch you and use it. You swallowed hard. “Y-yeah,” you struggled, “it is.”

Wanda’s smile turned a little predatory as she took a step towards the bed again. She felt so proud of you, seeing how willing you were to do this with her. You were nervous, Wanda could tell, but she had a feeling once you both tried this it would soon become a favorite for both of you. 

She crawled onto the bed, her naked form hovering over yours and you gulped at the proximity. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been like this with Wanda before, it’s just that there was never the addition of what was in between her legs in the mix. 

Wanda kissed your lips again, long and lingering, before she moved to kiss down your chest. Her hands ran from your chest, fingers dancing across your nipples, until they moved further down. She brushed the tips of her fingers across your skin with such gentleness, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until finally she reached between your legs. Her fingers met your wetness already, the kisses she gave mixed with the perfection that is her body had you already in need of her touch. When the tips of her fingers brushed your clit, a shiver ran through your body, and when they repeated their feather light touch, Wanda reveled in the fact that your body reacted so easily to her. 

Lips kissed back up to your neck and a hand pressed to your sternum until you were finally fully laying back on the bed. Your head tilted back to let Wanda run her tongue down the most sensitive parts of the flesh there. By this time, Wanda had started to steadily circle your clit with her fingers, causing soft, breathy sighs to fall from your lips. 

The excitement of all of this was getting to her. To say it was hard to wait, was an understatement. Wanda was so floored by your reactions and couldn’t wait to try what she had planned for you. If you were already this worked up from light touches, she could only anticipate how you’d react when she was inside you in a way she hadn’t been before. But still, she needed to go slow, prepare you. She didn’t want to break you after all. 

Her fingers ran down your folds, tracing your entrance before slowly dipping two in. You let out a gasp that was only made louder by the way Wanda moved to your chest and took a nipple into her mouth. Her tongue ran over your nipples, switching between the two, as she pumped her fingers into you at a leisurely pace. Whines were filling the room and she knew you were frustrated with how slow she was touching you. It seemed you both were excited for the main event. 

When your hips started to move with her fingers, Wanda could tell this was your pathetic attempt to make yourself cum. Her free hand went straight to your hip, her grip a bit harsh as she forced your body to still on the mattress. “Shhh, baby, not yet,” she purred. “You’re not going to cum on my fingers tonight.”

You huffed in frustration and Wanda pulled her fingers all the way out. That had you really whiny. Wanda bit her lip to try to hide the smug smile that tugged on her lips, half considering to tease you for awhile before she really started to fuck you. But then again, she was too excited to wait any longer. 

Sitting back on the bed, Wanda moved your legs until she was between them with either of them hooked over her hips. She sat there for a moment, admiring the sight before her. She knew you were wet from how she was already touching you, but to see your pussy drip with your wetness made her mouth water. 

“Wanda…” you pleaded after a moment passed and Wanda continued to just hungrily stare. 

She snapped out of it with your plea, her hand moving to wrap around the deep red toy before lining it up with your entrance. “This isn’t just a toy. It’s magic,” Wanda said, her body still with the tip of it barely pushing into you. “I’ll be able to feel you.” 

It took you a moment to register what she meant, but she didn’t really give you a moment. Her hips pressed forward and you felt her enter you completely. “Oh!” You moaned as you felt your walls stretch around her. 

Wanda groaned as she entered you, her eyes squeezing shut. She was trying to take in deep breaths, trying to restrain herself, but dear god the feeling of you was intoxicating. 

Your head fell back down onto the pillow as Wanda rolled her hips, her cock hitting deep inside you. She had a hold of your hips as your legs were still propped on hers, it gave her the best angle to hit deeper. The way she could feel every inch of the toy inside your pussy had her head swimming.

Wanda tried to start at a slow pace, she really did, but with each pump of her hips you let out an adorable whimper and she felt your pussy practically twitch around her. It was all too much. With your legs still hooked to her, Wanda fell forward onto the mattress, your bodies pressed together, with her hands barely holding her up. With this position, your legs hooked over her waist, Wanda could fuck you deeper and all her restraint broke.

“Holy shi-“ Wanda cut herself off with a low moan. The way her body was moving against yours had your head spinning, her pace increasing more and more. “I knew- fuck- I knew it would feel good, but not this fucking good.” 

Wanda’s hips were rolling into you in such a way that your whole body rocked back with the power of her thrusts. One hand grabbed onto the forearm by your head. Your nails dug into her skin as she kept pulling her cock almost all the way out of you just to slam it back in. She definitely wasn’t being gentle with you anymore and you couldn’t begin to care. The force of her cock pumping into you had your whole body deliciously shaking.

Wanda was barely holding herself up as it is, but when your pussy started tightening around her cock she couldn’t keep it up. She was fully pressed against you, quite literally fucking you into the mattress. Her face was tucked into the side of your neck as her hands flew back to your hips, moving your body into hers so she could grind you onto her cock while she fucked you. 

Your hand flew to your mouth, balled in a fist. Your teeth dug into your knuckles to try to muffle any sounds that were coming out of you, while Wanda hid her groans of pleasure into your neck. “You feel so fucking good,” Wanda growled in your ear as the force of her thrusts increased. “You’re gonna cum on mommy’s cock, okay princess?”

The way she was talking was also new, but it just added to your building orgasm. You nodded desperately, helpless to do anything but let her continue to fuck into you with abandon. 

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” she groaned. “Wouldn’t you like that? Let mommy cum inside you, paint your pretty pussy with my cum. Tell me you want my cum.”

“Y-yes please,” you stammered. 

Her movements were becoming more erratic and as you were approaching your edge, you knew she was too. The way your pussy was squeezing her tight, mixed with the way you struggled to stay quiet was too much for her. Wanda came and she came hard, her teeth digging into your neck to muffle her moans. 

The second she came you felt her cum hit your walls. A gasp was barely muffled when your own orgasm hit you. The surprising feeling of her warm cum inside you mixed with the sting of her bite had your body quake and tears well in your eyes at the sheer power of your orgasm. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Wanda groaned into your neck, her hips continuing to move and fuck her cum into you. The way she felt your orgasm had her cum again, filling your pussy up and prolonging your own orgasm. 

When you finally came down your body slumped onto the bed, your eyes shut tight as you tried to catch your breath. Wanda pressed her head to your chest, listening to your racing heartbeat as she tried to calm down from her own orgasms. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered in wonder. That was intense. She drew from you what was probably the most powerful orgasm of your life. 

“Yeah, oh my god.” Wanda let out a breathless laugh. Wanda pulled out of you after a moment, a shiver running through your body as she did. 

She sat back up, her cum dripping from your entrance. You continued to lay on the bed, still utterly spent as Wanda trailed her fingers down your thighs. “You look so pretty with my cum dripping down your thighs,” she whispered to herself more than to you. You just hummed, your eyes still shut as you tried to calm your breathing.  “Wonder how many times until it takes…”

You perked up at that, your eyes opening to glance at Wanda. “What do you mean?” You were more curious than worried about her odd remark. 

“I said it was magic…” Wanda trailed off, her fingers continuing to idly trace across your skin. “You’d look so beautiful carrying my child.”

“Wanda…” You sat up fully at this. The look you gave her told her you were feeling hesitant now, but Wanda just met your eyes with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry.” Her fingers stilled as she spoke. “I’m still figuring it out, nothing should happen this time. It took me a while just to conjure up something I could feel. To create life with it intentionally will take work. I don’t think I’m there yet.”

There was a lot of interesting wording in that, but you chose to ignore it. After all, it wasn’t even a couple hours ago that you were thinking similar thoughts about being a part of and maybe even expanding Wanda’s family. If she was really worried about that sort of risk she would’ve told you up front. At least, you hoped so. 

In truth, Wanda really wasn’t sure. She thought, as far as she knew, what she was saying was true. If she was being honest with herself, she probably should’ve given more thought to the whole ordeal and what consequences might come after, but when Wanda had this idea in her mind she was just too excited to postpone it. The sheer need to feel you as she fucked you and to be able to actually cum inside you was too overwhelming. She didn’t want to wait another minute after tonight, so threw caution to the wind. 

If there are results that come after this night, while she seriously doubted it, she did technically tell you it was magic before you two started. Hopefully, you had some understanding of the unpredictability of things like that. Although, the two of you were already on the same page. Neither of you would mind these repercussions, despite the short time you’ve been together. Wanda knew you were meant to be hers, meant to be in this family, so why not solidify it?

“Can we…” You bit your lip for a moment, a blush creeping to your cheeks again as Wanda waited for you to continue. “Can we try it again?”

Wanda’s grin was dazzling as she happily agreed.

Repercussions be damned. 

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[prythianpages]

There She Goes | Cassian

cassian x love witch reader | summary: You're determined to help Cassian find love. It is your specialty, after all. But Cassian finds himself falling for you.

warnings: none? this is fluff, I guess?

a/n: Though this is part of a series, it can be read as a stand-alone. Jumping a little ahead here to established friends (:

Cassian and Azriel strolled through the cobblestone streets of Velaris, the familiar warmth of the city wrapping around them like a comforting embrace after their trip to Windhaven. As they passed by the bakery, the irresistible aroma of freshly baked goods wafted out, tempting them and slowing their steps. 

"Well, since we're passing by, we might as well indulge. " Cassian said, flashing a grin at Azriel.

“Support our local businesses.” Azriel nodded his head in agreement, mirroring his grin as if they had not purposely taken the longer path back to the town house. His shadows wrapped around the shop’s door handle, pulling it open and he gestured for Cassian to step inside first.

Cassian’s eyes lit up at the sight of the display case filled with pastries, his stomach rumbling in response. There was so much to choose from—from savory to sweet—and he craved both. But then his gaze fell on the heart-shaped strawberry tarts, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly his thoughts drifted to you.

Strawberries and heart-shaped objects were among your favorite things. 

Granted, you had many favorite things, especially if they were pink. And if they were that tickle-me-pink shade—because yes, there are different shades of pink as you passionately taught him one night—well, that made them even better.

After buying a couple of tarts among a handful of other pastries, he could almost picture your delighted expression, and a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through him. Something that did not go unnoticed by Azriel. “Didn’t know you liked tarts so much,” he commented.

“I always liked them.” Cassian replied, brushing off his friend’s curiosity.

Azriel’s gaze narrowed. “Since when?”

“Since now.”

Cassian shrugged, pulling one of the tarts from his bag and eagerly taking a bite. He closed his eyes for a moment, making a dramatic show out of proving his point right as a contented sigh escaped his lips.

Azriel’s eyebrows knitted together in a skeptical manner, but Cassian was relieved he didn’t pry further. His shadows, however, began to pulse with sudden craving, and Cassian glared at the one that curled itself around Azriel’s ear. Centuries of friendship with the Shadowsinger have given Cassian some insight into the behavior of Azriel’s shadows. Those sneaky little tendrils could be just as meddlesome as he was.

And Cassian has yet to tell his family about you.

Though you’ve been friends for a while, he’s hesitant to share this part of his life with them. It's not because he is embarrassed, but because he knows they’d bombard him with questions about you. They’d also be eager to meet you, undoubtedly curious about the person who has captured his attention. Cassian is sure they already suspect something is going on, and the way Azriel’s shadows keep eagerly fluttering around him makes him wonder if Azriel has already figured it out.

A selfish part of Cassian just wants to keep you to himself. For you to be his person—Cassian shakes his head at the thought, quickly correcting himself. He wants you to be his friend, and only his friend, for now.  He isn’t ready to share you just yet.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches a glimpse of pink and his heart skipped a beat. His heart settled with a hint of disappointment when he realized that the pink had come from the cotton candy a vendor was selling. 

Get a grip, Cas.

He heard your laughter next—or what sounded like it. There she goes, Cassian thought, his lips curving into a fond smile as his mind formed the image of you laughing. The way your eyes would light up, crinkling in an endearing manner as you tilted your head slightly back. And there she goes again, racing through his mind...

He could even picture you in this moment, walking gracefully through the plaza in another one of your pink outfits. A pink strawberry cardigan with light-colored pants and matching pink ballet flats. Wait a minute...

Cassian realized he wasn’t imagining things. That had been your laughter he heard. And you were, in fact, wearing a pink strawberry cardigan. Like a vision straight out of a dream.

You must’ve sensed him too because in a heartbeat, your head turned in his direction. A bright smile spread across your face. Cassian’s smile widened, his eyes softening and he couldn’t bring himself to care over the way Azriel’s gaze immediately shifted between you two, shadows whispering madly.

If there was one person that could keep a secret in the family, it’d be Azriel.

“Hey, Cas,” you greeted as you approached them. Your steps came to a stop and gaze shifted to Azriel.

A sense of panic had Cassian’s wings tensing as you regarded his friend.

Azriel had always been the most beautiful of their group. Many fae—females and males—flocked to him on the nights they’d successfully dragged Azriel to Rita’s. He was never short of suitors, and it seemed that he was always the first choice. It was something Cassian couldn’t help but be envious of, and the longer your gaze lingered on Azriel, the more his wings tensed.

“Hello! You must be Azriel. Cassian talks a lot about you and of Rhysa–the High Lord as well.” You corrected yourself, extending your hand out toward Azriel.

“Yes,” Azriel replied, side-glancing at Cassian as he politely shook your hand. “That’s funny actually because—”

Cassian elbowed Azriel, giving a subtle shake of his head. Don’t say anything, his eyes screamed at him. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes, choosing to clear his throat instead. “Because I am Azriel…”

“Right…”

“Anyway, it’s nice to finally meet you…,” Azriel trailed off, the corner of his lips tugging upwards into a faint smile as that sneaky shadow of his curled around his ear once more. “The one Cassian has been running off to a lot...”

Cassian turned his head to glare at Azriel in warning. He then turned his attention back to you. He watched as your gaze flickered between them both, then to the bags full of pastries they carried, before settling back on Cassian. He let out a small exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath. The panic that had begun to seep in was now pushed away by relief.

You had not fallen victim to Azriel’s effortless charm. He wouldn’t have blamed you, if you had.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not at all.” Azriel replied for them and your eyes lit up.

You clasped your hands behind your back, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Does that mean you’re free then?”

“Yes,” Azriel answered for Cassian again, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Mind if I steal him from you?” You asked Azriel, though your gaze had not wavered from Cassian.

“No, take him,” Azriel said, playfully shoving his friend your way. “You can keep him too.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

The sounds of children laughing and playing filled the air, and the vibrant energy of the city seemed to mirror the tumult in Cassian's chest. “So, what did you need to steal me for?” 

“Your company,” you replied simply, your smile warm as you watched the kids in the park. You missed the way your words made Cassian blush. “I missed you and was thinking about when you’d return. I got some updates for you…”

When he didn’t respond, you turned your head toward him, catching him staring at you with an intensity that took you aback. Your eyes met his with a curious, questioning look. Cassian quickly cleared his throat, attempting to mask his racing heart with a facade of nonchalance.

“I got you something.”

“You did?”

Cassian held up the pastry bag before opening it. He pulled out one of the strawberry tarts and that delighted expression he had imagined earlier came to life.

You gasped, drawing a genuine smile from his lips. “How did you know I love these?”

“I had a feeling,” Cassian said, nodding towards your cardigan, the shade of pink he had come to associate so closely with you.

“Well, thank you. You’re the best!”

Cassian’s wings fluttered behind him and he was grateful for the way you were distracted with the pastry to notice. But as you lifted your gaze back upwards, your eyes widened at something behind him. His muscles tensed when your hand suddenly gripped his arm, shorter form moving behind him. 

“Hide me!” You hush-whispered and Cassian’s instincts were quick, using his free hand to push you further behind him, your forehead pressing into his back.

His gaze sharpened, senses on high alert, as he searched the area for danger.

“What is it?”

“See that fae over there? The one with silver hair and wearing bright green? That’s my ex. And the other fae right next to him is his mean wife, who is always unpleasant to bump into.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the couple you pointed out, who were slowly approaching where you both stood. He turned, keeping you hidden behind his broad form as they walked past you. Only when they were out of sight did you step around Cassian, resuming your place by his side. You let out a long breath, wiping the nonexistent sweat from your forehead that had him resisting the urge to chuckle.

You finally indulged in the sweet pastry in your hand, struck by the need of a sweet distraction from the stressful situation you narrowly avoided. You waited until you swallowed the first bite completely before speaking again. 

“We dated for almost a year. He broke up with me because I was ‘too much.’ Guess he couldn’t handle me. Yet he can handle that crazy wife of his. Amazing what love does, isn’t it?”

There was no hint of bitterness in your tone. Only a soft, dreamy one that had Cassian’s jaw tightening slightly. “Amazing,” he echoed, though his thoughts were far from the admiration you harbored. 

He couldn’t fathom how anyone could think you were too much. To him, you were just right. Perfect, even. He could never get enough of you. The idea that someone else had the chance to experience that, and had let you go, was… infuriating.

“They give me hope.”

“What?” Cassian couldn’t help but let out a snort, pushing past the emotion he dared not name as he looked at you.

You looked back at him in an incredulous manner. “They give me hope,” you said again. “They remind me that there is someone for everybody. That there will be someone for me too one day…Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

Cassian shook his head, forcing a smile to his face as he reached into his bag of pastries and pulled out a macaroon. “You just don’t talk about your personal love life much.”

Your eyes softened as you gazed at him, missing the conflict in his. “Well, there hasn’t been much to talk about lately. I’ve had relationships here and there.”

“I actually dated the bakery owner’s son awhile back. It only lasted three weeks. Biscuit bit his ankle when I first brought him to my place. Worked in his favor, though–he met the love of his life at the healing clinic. They make a really cute couple.”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised in surprise, thinking back to the blue-skinned fae with delicate features he’d seen occasionally at the bakery. He would often help his father during the winter season but he hadn’t seen him lately.

“I’ve opened my heart to many but none of them have wanted to keep it.” You said with a shrug and then took another bite of the strawberry tart. “My love life is quite eventful but it leads to nowhere. I don’t talk about it much because it’s not good for my reputation, you know? A love witch who cannot find love herself…”

Cassian's heart ached at your words. He stared at you again, not knowing what to say to sweeten the bitterness that had befallen upon you. It was then that he noticed some of the pastry’s cream on the corner of your mouth. Without thinking, he leaned in and reached out, his thumb gently brushing against your skin as he wiped it away.

The sudden closeness made your breath hitch, and he realized just how close he was to you. Your eyes locked and his hand lingered on your face, the warmth of your skin sending a shiver down his spine.

“Sorry, you had some of the pastry on your lips, ” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He was close enough to see the flecks of color in your eyes, to feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. 

Something deep inside–like a hidden instinct– screamed at him to close the distance.

But instead, he let his hand drop, the moment slipping away like sand through his fingers. He brushed his thumb against his leathers to wipe off the cream before popping another macaroon into his mouth as if nothing happened.

“Maybe you should just date me.”

 Cassian choked on the macaroon. “Date—” he managed between coughs, “you?”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought he had seen a flicker of hurt flash through your eyes. But he must’ve imagined it because you were flashing him a grin, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m just joking,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s just that people tend to meet their soulmates after breaking up with me. In a weird sense, I’m like a good luck charm. To all, except myself, that is.”

He felt a pang of disappointment, the feeling threatening to sink his heart. Of course, you were joking. He thought back to the fae you just told him about. Both males were tall and elegant with soft and beautiful features. They were so different from him, a stark contrast to his rugged warrior persona.

It was clear you had a type, and he was far from it. Just as he was convinced he was way out of your league. You would never date someone like him.

“Don’t worry! My love life might be a mess but when it comes to others, I am an expert. I have brought soulmates together. I made a vow to you, Cassian, and I intend to keep it. I’ll help you find your special someone, magic or no magic. Which brings me back to the update I wanted to share with you. I made a new friend the other day! Her name is…”

Cassian allowed you to tug him toward a quaint iron bench beneath a blooming tree as you rambled on. He settled down first, stretching his wings out to their full span to make room for both of you. As his wings curled around you, his heart raced at the accidental brush of his wing against your arm.

 You continued to chatter excitedly about the new friend you thought Cassian might be interested in. “She’s beautiful, weight-lifts, is interested in Valkyrie training, and—are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Cassian replied noncommittally, drawing a small frown from you. In truth, he hadn’t been listening.

Something bright flashes in your eyes, the frown leaving your lips as quickly as it had come. “Did you meet someone in Windhaven?”

“No.” Cassian let out a snort. His trip to Windhaven consisted of solely dealing with the grumpy war camp lords. It was anything but pleasant. “I doubt I’d find love there.”

“Nonsense! Have you learned nothing from me?” You exclaimed, shifting in your seat so that you leaned forward slightly, palms of your hands placed on either side of your thighs. “Love can be found anywhere!”

Your eyes danced with excitement, searching around the plaza. He recognized that look on your face and leaned back, preparing for another impromptu love lesson. 

“Just look,” you said, your voice soft as you pointed to various scenes around them with tilts of your head. “There’s love in the way a mother pushes her little girl on the swing—just the right amount of force to send her soaring but gentle enough to keep her safe.”

Cassian watched, mesmerized, as your pupils dilated into heart shapes, pink magic beginning to dance from your fingertips. “There’s love in the way the elderly couple walks hand in hand, their steps in sync as if they’ve been together for multiple lifetimes.”

“There’s love in the way the flower merchant sneaks an extra rose into the bouquet she just wrapped for her customer. There’s love in the way the customer’s hands brush against hers as he takes the bouquet, his touch lingering for a moment longer and oh, would you look at that—”

Pink stardust soared through the air, forming little butterflies that fluttered around the female and male at the flower stand. They circled around them, drawing them closer to one another, shimmering over them. “—He actually bought those flowers for her to ask her on a date and she said yes!”

“There’s love in the laughter of children playing in the park, their joy infectious...”

Cassian listened, but his focus was less on the people you pointed out and more on you. The way your eyes sparkled with passion, the soft glow of your smile, the gentle manner in which you observed the world—everything about you was enchanting. 

It all made him yearn for something more, something he feared to admit. And in that moment, he realized that he didn’t need to find love in Windhaven or anywhere else.

Because what if...

What if it was right there, sitting beside him, wrapped in pink magic and heart-shaped pupils?

“Uncle C–”

A high-pitched, familiar cheerful voice drew Cassian out of his thoughts. He blinked and then he was looking around the park, keen eyes searching for the voice that sounded just like his nephew’s. But there was no sight of the adorable toddler that held a special place in his heart.

“Love is in the air, Cas.” 

You were looking at him now, eyes filled with warmth and affection. He wondered if you could see the longing in his gaze, if you could feel the depth of his feelings. 

But then you smiled, a smile so pure and bright that it took his breath away, and he knew he couldn’t risk losing you.

How could he ever hope to be worthy of someone as extraordinary as you?

a/n: I hope y'all didn't mind the time jump. I do intend to post more fics that occurred between the tarot love reading and this one! One of them is a bit angsty and gives more of Love Witch's POV since these have mainly been in Cassian's. I just had the inspiration to write this thanks to the song it was titled after.

Guess Azriel couldn't keep a secret, after all. This part leads right into the next, which was from a suggestion of love witch meeting the IC and also inspired by the song She's So High. If there is anything you'd like to see in that part, just let me know! <3

Biscuit is the name of Love Witch's pet snake btw, who will be introduced soon.

series masterlist

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon, @talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[calliopesdiary]

“mini-me”

synopsis; your little sister captures the hearts of your boyfriends, you may even say she has a little crush on james.

contents; sexual activity mentioned, fem!reader, reader has a cute lil sister, poly!marauders, james has baby fever, you have baby fever, i have baby fever, everyone has baby fever

warnings; none! just a brief mention of sex but nothing bad (;

a/n; i’ve been daydreaming about this fic for so long

“NESSIE! FINALLY MY BEST FRIEND IS BACK!"

roared a thunderous James Potter who’d spotted your little sister— Vanessa.

Nessie was all over the boys, and they were all over her. she was a first-year hufflepuff and a true sweetheart.

Sirius silently adored how similar you two looked, it was like looking at twins— except one of them happened to be five years older than the other.

He was too afraid and stubborn to admit it, but Nessie gave him a heavy dose of baby fever.

was she a baby? no, not even close. but something about her cheeky smile, the way her robes hung over her like how a child pretending to be an adult’s would, and how her hand (which was considerably smaller than his) slid into yours lovingly at any given time.

maybe it was just that he wanted to see you as a mom, or that he longed for a family that was warm and loving.

“y/n, dear.” Sirius caught your attention quickly, even though you were watching James ramble on to Nessie like it was an oscar award winning film.

“hm—?” you hummed, attempting to pry your eyes away from the sweet scene.

“what do you think i’d-be like?”

“what do i think what would be like?”

“you know, having kids.” he could tell from your flustered expression that to were certainly not expecting that.

“o-oh… w-well…”

luckily the conversation had been interrupted by one Nessie.

Nessie ended her conversation with James, earning a “hey!” when she walked away from him.

“Siri.” she tugged in his sleeve.

“yes, darling?”

she blushed at the pet name, and started twirling her hair.

“um.. will you guys take me to Hogsmeade…?”

“Hogsmeade? Ness, only third years and over can go to Hogsmeade—“

“Professor Mcgonagall said if i went with you then it would be alright!”

She tugged on Sirius’ slightly oversized leather jacket once more, as he stumbles from the unexpected tug.

“whats going on in here— AGH!”

Remus stumbled backwards as Nessie pounced on top of him like some wild animal who was about to feed on him.

“hi— oof— hi Nessie.”

Remus was taken aback by the little first year jumping around in him in a circle chanting;

“i’m going to Hogsmeade!”

“Ness, he gets it.” You groaned from your position on James’ lap.

“Get off!!” Nessie shoved you with all of her pre-puberty force.

“N-Nessie!” you ‘gently’ hit the bedpost as Nessie locked herself onto James.

“What candy is she on? Pixi Stix?”

“Oh, suck my dick, Moony.”

“Gladly—“

“Oi!” Barked James.”

“whats a dick?”

“Nessie—..”

HOGSMEADE was beautiful in summer time.

obviously— it wasn’t summer yet, but with April coming to a close and blossoming like a flower, you could basically say it was summertime.

you walked along with Remus and Sirius, as Nessie was hanging around with James as they skipped ahead down the alleys and walkways of Hogsmeade.

you adored James, and how sweet he was to your sister, she was such a sweet kid and deserved the love.

"James?" Nessie stopped skipping for a moment, keeping a steady walking pace instead.

"Hm?"

"Do you love my sister?"

"I do."

"so why don't you marry her?" Sirius burst into a quiet laughter, and Remus tucked the hysterical boy into his chest.

"i- marry her? i'd love too, but we're a bit young."

“but Snow White was 14 when she got married.”

“Oh.” James was clearly a bit flustered, his cheeks turned to a shade of pink.

Remus watched his lovers interact with Nessie, and it sparked something deep inside him.

Remus (until now) had ruled out a happy ending for himself.

being a lycanthrope, he never wanted to pass that burden to his child. so he couldn’t— no, wouldn’t have kids.

but somehow, someway, as he watched you with your little sister. he realized how badly he wanted you to be a mom.

for the first time, Remus realized that he could live happily.

“Remus? are you alright?” You tapped his shoulder rapidly, and he snapped out of his trance.

“Y-yes, sorry I got distracted.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” you smiled brightly up to him, the smile he was so in love with.

the smile he wanted his kids to have.

*

you four dropped Nessie off back at her common room, and Sirius immediately sprung onto you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Siri?” you asked through soft giggles.

“I can’t wait to have a kid with you.”

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

--

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

--

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

--

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

--

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

--

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

--

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

--

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

--

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

--

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

--

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

--

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

--

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

[luveline]

That family holiday kbd was soo cute😭

Can we get a blurb about playing at the resort’s pool with Steve and the kids? 🫶🏻

kbd — the harrington’s go poolside !! mom!reader, 1.4k

“Can we hold hands?” Beth asks. 

You throw your hand out to her showfully. She giggles as she takes it, rejuvenated after a good night's sleep and a huge breakfast from the buffet. You and Steve are probably happier about her gorging than she is; it’s never a bad day when Bethie eats well. 

Steve holds a toddling Dove’s hand, leaning down to accommodate her tiny stature, while Avery walks just ahead. “It’s gonna be fun, bubby,” Steve’s saying, “I promise.” 

Dove’s been to the pool a couple of times, but never for long. Last time she’d been in Steve’s arms for the whole session, while you shepherded Beth, and Avery played water games with her Aunt Robin. You’re a little scared to be taking them now with just the two of you, but Steve reassured you that everyone would be perfectly safe in the kids pool under both your supervision and the lifeguards, and you tend to trust his judgement. 

You leave the hotel lobby and step out into the resort’s back, white concrete and bright green sections of grass cut by paths that lead down to the pools and water features. Steve shouts for Avery to stay close, your oldest girl gasping with excitement as you draw near the pool and families already swimming in the sun. Her flip-flops slap the ground. 

“Mom, it’s too sunny,” Bethie whines. 

“This is why we all have hats. Do you want a hat?” 

“No.” She frowns. “I can’t see.” 

“You can’t see?” you ask. “I might have something that can help. Let’s just get to some seats and I’ll show you.”  

There are rows of blue plastic chairs and sun loungers outfitted with tables near the kiddie pool, more further down toward the adult pool. Families have already set up in places, but there’s plenty of room for you, your family, and your huge baby bag. 

Steve hoists Dove onto a sun lounger. Avery next, though she stays standing, her excitement catching. A sprinkler shaped like a flower rains generous streams of water down onto a laughing little girl and her mother. Avery watches them over Steve’s shoulder. “Can we swim? Please, dad, I want to go under the sprinkler!”

“Yeah. Let’s take your nice dress off first, sweetheart, put your arms up. Up, up!” 

She holds up her arms for Steve to help her out of her dress. You and Beth take the sunlounger opposite, where she’s quick to climb into your lap, hiding her face from the sun. 

You knew Beth wouldn’t wear a hat. She hates them, just like she hates flip flops, sandals, and any shoes without socks. Luckily she’s fine to go barefoot from here —you begin to untie her laces. “I have something new for us to try. I think you’re gonna love it, but maybe you won’t, I don’t know.” 

“What is it?” 

You unzip the bag and pull out a round blue container. It clicks open, unveiling a toddler-sized pair of sunglasses made of a strange soft plastic. 

“You can match daddy,” you sing-song, attempting to entice her. “And keep your eyes away from the sun.” 

“Will they stay on when I swim?” she asks. 

“Maybe not, but I’ve got you goggles for swimming. Are you ready to swim? Or are we gonna sit here for a bit in the sun?” 

Avery jumps down off of the sunlounger. The skirt of her swimsuit bounces as she runs to you, hands vying for your bag. “Mom, I want goggles too.” 

“I got you some, don’t worry. Let daddy do it. He has to make them smaller on your head.”

Steve outfits Avery in her goggles, and takes Dove’s dress off to leave her in her swimsuit (or scuba suit). Beth doesn’t wanna swim yet, but you take her dress off and begin the long process of covering each child in SPF. 

“There,” you say, wiping a smudge of sunscreen from Avery’s arm down into her hand. “Tada! You’re now safe from the sun.” 

“I love the sun.” 

“I know, but the sun doesn’t love us. It gets too hot.” 

“That’s why we have to drink.” 

“Exactly, baby, exactly.” You frame her face with your hands. “Hey, you look beautiful today. You do! Look at your lovely smile, so pretty, better let me have a little kiss.” 

“Mommy,” she giggles. 

“Just a little one, Avey, just one–” You kiss her cheek twice, one near her nose and the other her ear, before pulling her in for a slightly slimy hug. The sun warms the back of your neck, and her shoulders are warm where your arms slide over them. 

“That was two,” Steve says. 

“You rat,” you say, grinning as he leans down to hug you from behind. 

“Better give me one to make it even,” he says in your ear.

“Don’t think that’s how it works.” 

He gives you a quick kiss. “Hey, Dove! Babe, where are you going?” 

“Swim!” 

“Guess we better get in,” he says, thumb in your shoulder and then suddenly gone as he chases your waddling barely-toddler before she can get too far away. 

“Ready, Beth?” you ask. 

“You’re coming in?” she asks you. 

“Yeah, I’m coming in,” you say, forcing a smile. 

You've had three babies. You know you don’t look like you did when you and Steve first met, don’t look like somebody you’d see on TV or in the background of a Madonna video. He sees you naked all the time and he’s never had any complaints (the opposite, always), but these people aren’t used to you. You have a doughy stomach and the baby weight sticks to your chest and thighs; you’re so worried you’ll be judged for how you look you start to resent yourself for not trying to fix it. 

You pull your dress over your head hesitantly. 

An immediate wolf whistle echoes from the poolside. 

Steve’s ankle deep in the kids shallows, his fingers still in his mouth, the other arm wrapped around Dove. The sun turns his hair a dirty blonde, his mild tan lightened. 

“Steve, don’t,” you scorn, immediately flustered at the attention it draws. 

“That’s my wife,” Steve says to Avery, unaffected. 

You grab Bethie, kiss her under the chin, and try to act like you aren’t embarrassed as you meet them in the water. 

“Well hello, gorgeous,” he says, grabbing for you, not quite reaching. 

The water’s cold. “Stop, Steve.” 

“You’re so beautiful, come here, I need a kiss.” 

“Stop.” 

“Seriously?” he asks. 

You hug Beth. “Maybe one more.” 

“Mom, you’re beautiful!” Avery shouts. 

“Yeah, mom, you’re beautiful,” Beth says. 

Steve smirks from over Dove’s head. “Took the words right out of my mouth.” 

You and Steve kneel in the pool. The water isn’t that deep at its deepest, and the girls can stand without being submerged. Avery and Bethie hold hands under the sprinkler flower to stop from either girl getting lost, while you and Steve watch with Dove held in his arms. “How’s that, Dovey? Are you having fun?” you ask saccharinely. 

Steve sighs. “You really are so, so beautiful.” 

“Daddy’s feeling silly,” you say to Dove, “he doesn’t get it.” 

“I get it.” 

“You don’t think people wonder what you’re doing with me?” you ask, mostly joking, ninety percent as you give your stomach a self-deprecating squeeze. “You look like you're still twenty-two.” 

“No I don’t. I used to have abs.” 

You push through the water to poke his lean stomach. “Feels solid to me,” you say. 

He laughs and pulls away from you. His eyes dart between you and the girls, softened with his laughing, “Get off of me, you rascal.” 

“Rascal?” 

You laugh worse. 

Steve’s predictable. He makes sure Dove is alright floating in the water with his one hand on her back before he leans across to kiss you, a wet hand to your collar, his lips persistent as he pecks you twice, three times. “Love you, pretty girl,” he says. 

You flush with heat from your face to your fingertips. That’s a rare one. “I love you too.” 

[bulbabutt]

okay. lets bite the bullet and talk about 2012. lets talk about child abuse, familial abuse, generational abuse, toxic family units, whatever you wanna call it. lets talk about it and whether it exists in this show. i actually encourage you to read this no matter what your take is, just to hear it out. let me be FUCKING clear: i love this show, but i get scared to talk about it seriously. everyone on every side is defensive all the time but i love every turtles show to no end.

this post is going to go over so well and not controversially at all.

precursor: every splinter is some level of shitty dad. he always has been. the fucking bare bones of the character is that he raised his children to kill the man who killed his own father. thats inherently fucked up. every splinter has some level of fucked up about him. maybe hes inattentive, or neglectful, or strict, or secretive, maybe hes just not very good at dealing with his kids. splinter is supposed to be far from perfect. thats what makes him splinter. maybe he grows over the course of a series, maybe he doesnt. maybe hes supposed to be shitty his whole life, maybe hes not. thats just splinter. each is adapted differently depending on the story being told.

and 2012 has a very interesting tone to its story.

lets start at the beginning, back in japan. this is season 3, was this story what they intended when they started writing the show back in season 1? probably not, theres probably things they would have written differently had they known this was where splinter's story started. thats kind of the way tv works, you add the details later. but for our sake of analyzing the character of splinter as a whole, it seems best to start here as if its all intentional.

hamato yoshi is a member of the hamato clan. theyre a very traditional old ninja clan in the modern world, they have old feuds and theyre trying to keep their culture alive. they're literally the last of a clan of ninjas like this, having (supposedly) defeated the foot clan (their generational enemies) back when yoshi was a baby. hes set out to lead next, and its very important to him. and yet hes married to a woman who works in the city, a modern woman who doesnt live the life he does. she even moved to be with him. i feel the need to compare this to how men in the real world who want traditional wives never go for women who are willing to be their housewives, always try to break down the independent ones. splinter seems unconcerned with how his wife wants to live. with how she wants their daughter to be raised.

im not necessarily saying this is how this comes off in the show, but i find it interesting to think about. this is absolutely the most rounded version of tang shen as a character (thus far) it stops her being just a name on a page "hamato yoshi's love and the object of his enemies affections who died" and turns her into a woman who has a stake in the story. gives her more agency.

its very interesting that this show implies an actual relationship between tang shen and oroku saki, albeit a one-sided one that didnt work out, but they do seem to have parted on equal ground. the pair of them discuss yoshi's inattentive duties as a husband and father, that he's too obsessed with the tradition and lineage of his clan. honestly, if this woman just took her baby and left no one would blame her! he has his priorities set, and it leaves no room for her and their newborn baby. if she ran away with saki at this point, the story would make just as much sense.

but then disaster strikes, saki learns the truth about his family, that he was actually a child of the foot clan (honestly i wish we saw this play out instead of jumping ahead in the story but thats not what this post is about) and he kills he and yoshi's father. revenge for him having killed his. cycles of abuse and revenge that never end. the pair of them were raised in this society that values lineage like this, that would kill for it. its no wonder they both grew up this way.

anyway, tang shen is killed by a blow meant for yoshi, and saki takes their child and raises her. based on splinter's lack of desire to be a father so far in the story, its honestly not one you can blame him for. its fucked up, but it makes sense. saki does to miwa exactly what his father did to him. cycles of abuse and revenge.

yoshi loses everything, and moves to america. he's turned into splinter the mutant rat, and gains four turtle sons.

so as established, he's not exactly grown up with a stable family life. he obviously, while human, wasnt acting as a stable father for the child he intended to have. so how good is he at this?

ive talked before about how the 2003 show treats the turtles as kind of one whole unit. they don't have individual relationship arcs, they dont have overarching storylines where they grow apart or closer, they're always in each other's corner.

2012 makes this more dynamic. here we see that 15 years seeing no one but each other, growing under this splinter has come with its own quirks. these brothers dont understand each other that well. they get jealous of each others treatment, some are left out, some are misunderstood. raph resents leo, none of them appreciate what donnie does, mikey bothers everyone else for attention, etc. it creates a really good starting place for this show.

(the issue i have with this show is more that they never really open or close any of these beats, at least not in ways that last. but boy does it make for some good dramatic scenes)

we see over the course of this first season that splinter treats his children just as he was, as little ninjas more so than sons. he raises them to follow his traditions, the ones tang shen never cared for. but this is all he knows how to be! you cant really blame him.

most people bring up mikey as the quintessential example when they talk about this, i dont want to do that cuz i know you've all heard it. while i think his father does disrespect him and i think it is paid forward and his brothers do too, i'd rather talk about raph for a change.

in one episode, raph loses his temper. to teach him a lesson, splinter makes his brothers pelt him in training while insulting him any way they can, and tells him to just... not lose his temper. this is a terrible lesson in general. instead of trying to coax out why he might be angry, it just plays up that if he loses his temper bad things happen.

splinter in this episode basically encourages bullying. this comes up a lot when it comes to raph. to compare, in 2003 when raph loses his temper, hes told to blow off steam which he does. his brothers don't blame him for having emotional outbursts, they know thats just how he is so they know how he needs to cope with it. he's given the physical space to let it out.

im not saying this show needs to be like that show, im just saying thats a version of this story where the outcome is better for raph as a whole. since this outcome is not as good for him emotionally, you can tell why he's still got these emotional issues. splinter never helps him more than that. thats more why this raph differs from that one, if that makes sense. one has his family in his corner more than the other.

speaking of. raph has a pet turtle. this turtle is the only one he can talk to about how he feels. why might that be? it's the only thing hes kind and gentle to, and he refuses to let his brothers make him feel weak for being kind to it. where did he learn to be ashamed of being kind and gentle? thats a learned behaviour. in a house full of other men... yeah, that would happen. but whos values start that?

when this turtle gets some mutagen spilled on it, it tries to get revenge on his family. there is such a resentment going on here, its extremely juicy. the show chalks this up to "post mutation insanity", but its just as easy to think that everything raph has experienced has made him seem angry and resentful and perhaps scared to his pet, and that former pet wants raph to himself so they can be free. the frustrated venting of a child complaining about how no one understands him in such a big way turns slash into a vengeful monster, cuz thats all he's ever heard. it makes sense, he went from a little turtle to a fully cognizant adult aged being in an instant. emotionally no one would handle that well, and definitely not someone whos only ever heard the worst about people.

he comes around later. notably by being on his own, away from the hamatos.

again, im not saying the show is writing this intentionally, but i think tonally its in the zone where you could see this analysis as being canon. that these little pieces of narrative fit the worldview of a toxic family unit that isnt dealing with its problems in a healthy way.

there's other small aspects. leo slaps mikey early on, having seen it on his favourite show be used as a way of getting someone to calm down. mikey questions this behaviour, leo seems to feel bad about it when questioned. if we know that that behaviour was bad, what other things might he emulate in a similar way?

there's things like donnie's predatory behaviour towards april. in a world where all they ever knew was splinter's stories of the outside world (and perhaps television from decades earlier), hearing splinter's story of his love for tang shen, his rivalry with his own brother over her, you could actually see why he would behave the way he does, why he claims her the way he does. not as an excuse, but as a reason he learned the behaviour. and there's multiple opportunities for his father to tell him off. he never does. why would he? he knows no better.

this splinter, unlike every other, is not old or disabled. he doesnt require a cane (at the start, but also was never a good cane) and its interesting that despite being like... a 40 year old man in the peak of his life he does not accompany his sons on missions. he sits around doing nothing and disproves of his sons heroic actions. april literally calls him out for this at one point. the show is actually telling us some of this man's behaviour is wrong.

one of the more upsetting things that happens in this household is a lot of physical hitting. "theyre training" you might say. understandable. but when you see a lot of hitting come from the father in this show, played for a laugh, when you see splinter play the "drunk master" bit it makes you think. is that okay? isnt that a bit much?

the end of the muckman episode is a freeze frame of splinter (after having knocked out all of his sons to punish them for leaving while grounded) turning his anger on april and her running away. idk thats just not funny to me. this is a bit of the dating of the show, 2012 was a time where character's in shows were meaner, less affectionate, more bullying in nature. that was the sense of humour at the time. that isnt me making a judgment, it's just kind of the era. a pre steven universe world, if that makes sense. so many of the jokes that end in a hit aren't funny in 2024. especially not when they come from a parent.

when this splinter speaks about his kids to their brothers he often ends up insulting them. "you should be like mikey, he never overthinks because he doesn't think", this would be a big reason the boys speak about each other the way they do to their faces. puts forward a bit more of that bullying thing i mentioned earlier. if their own father talks about them like this, of course their brothers do too. so of course they join in and give payback.

again. splinter wasnt raised in a normal family. he was raised in a ninja commune with a bunch of murderers. he wasn't great with his wife and baby daughter. its not surprising that he's bad at this.

so, ive just said a bunch of things about what's wrong with this household as a whole. i think ive explained why the family unit behaves the way it does: generational teachings of feuds and traditional values. i dont think this makes the show bad! i, in fact, wish there was more of it. i think theres so much low hanging fruit that the show kind of wants to play with, but cant fully bring itself to.

specific example: during the space arc on a planet thats driving all the characters emotions against each other we get this amazing scene where raph screams at leo for being splinter's favourite. leo responds by hugging him. its really well done!

however its never brought up again, never actually getting into the nitty gritty of why raph feels like that is exactly what i think makes this show resonate with so many people

its dark! it pulls at your heart strings! it makes people feel seen! we go in mikey's head at one point and see such splintered (lol) personalities in his head. he has a huge anger problem (much like raph) in there. he retreats into imagination land when stressed. the show kind of toys with "these kids are fucked up!" but never lets those character moments go anywhere. i love how fucked up this family is. its so complex, it feels real. at least real to me. i wish it went that little step further and let the characters talk about these things a little more.

maybe you have a different experience, and thats fine! but i wouldnt brush off people like me who look at 2012 and say "these dynamics make me uncomfortable". to excuse it by saying "my family is like that and we're fine" sometimes i just wanna say... <:/ are you? have you talked about that? and if that's your read on it is that its fine, thats great. but some people notice patterns and those patterns can make them uncomfortable. i hope ive explained the patterns here.

i think thats why the fandom is as big as it is. this show would lead to the most amazing deep introspective fan-works youve ever seen, it lays the pieces out so perfectly for you to draw your own conclusions about why they are this way. you cant really blame people for talking about it as if its got a way higher rating than it does. it feels like it does.

i should say, i dont even know if i blame the show on its own for leaving those pieces laying there, it was on nickelodeon. i sense studio meddling in the tone. i mean, given that the show wanted to end with the big mutant apocalypse storyline, and yet the network wanted to end it with the big 87 crossover..... yeah i think its safe to say nick would rather they keep it light.

which is funny, because i think the most controversial thing i can say is i personally love the finale arc as the mutant apocalypse. it so encapsulates my favorite part of this show. to end this show in the darkest timeline and say "even though these characters are so far removed from who they used to be and even though the entire world is over they still have each other in the end" and i find that so perfect.

so. i understand that this is always a touchy topic. i know people want to brush it off as "people say the 12 brothers are abusive to mikey but mikey is fine", and i think thats a really skewed version of it from both sides. first of all. mikey is not fine, look in that boys head. look how he copes. he's not. but also, mikey is not the only victim. they all are. these turtles are victims of their upbringing, victims of generational war. of men who didnt know how to be good fathers in the first place. and thats good writing! it feels deep! it connects!

for more context: any fucked up way you can think of karai being raised by shredder? its probably the same way here. splinter and shredder were raised the same way.

i guess i think about this a lot, cuz i always see things like "oh, rise fans write crossovers where the rise boys love each other and have to teach the 12 boys how to be nice cuz they dont like 2012!" and i just think to myself:

guys. do you understand why a person might do that? why would someone (likely a teenager) want 2012 mikey to be treated nicely by a kinder more openly affectionate version of his own family? do i need to spell that out for you? why do we connect with media at all, why do we write our own stories about it?

if you genuinely dont. i mean, im glad for you. but sometimes you wanna imagine a world in which your own family is more openly affectionate with you. where they hug and tell you theyre proud and love you and you never have to question it, never have to look elsewhere for that kind of approval. its less that they're idolizing rise, and more that they're looking at the two families and saying "this one is emotionally mature and in touch with their feelings more than that one. how would that play out?"

doctor feelings ass response.

look, im not saying everyone understands 2012, that everyone likes or needs to like it. im just trying to say that i think these fucked up parts of 2012 are all around my favourite parts of the show. its an inspiring story about this fucked up little family that has no one but each other, and they're not great about it. they try, but they don't always get it right. i just wish the show would have talked about that part more. but i think that since it doesnt people get to fill in those blanks themselves, and they do it so beautifully. and i really wish people on the internet would be more kind to one another when they wanted to discuss these darker themes they find in it.

these are the reasons i love this show. i think its so very interesting that splinter dies this fucked up father figure who never really apologized for his behaviour. i like that raph needs to be held to stop punching his brothers. that leo doesnt have a good grip on what it is to be a leader, that he tries bad ways of doing it. i like that no one copes well! i like that their relationships are so complex! this show is messy! its good! i wish it was more messy!

and id love if we could be more honest about these things and how they make us feel instead of just brushing each other off as "likes the show" or "doesnt like the show". the things that make me uncomfortable are why i love this show and i'm pretty sure i'm not alone there.

[kimhargreeves]

Saved Again-Sanji x Fem Reader (One Piece Netflix)

Summary: You've been Luffy's friend for years. Being the first member to join Luffy's crew, together they are off to become pirates,.later on a certain chef has his eyes on you. And a fond memory of you and a boy after a shipwreck comes to mind when arriving at the Baratie.

(A/N: I'm so excited for the One Piece live action do I decided to write this!! I'll start on a Part 2 once the series is released. I absolutely love Sanji and he's my favorite of the Straw Hats. I relate to him a lot too since I was training to become a chef as well…anyways the one shot might be slightly changed once I watch the series.)

(A/N: Oh and also the reader is often confused as a boy but Nami and Sanji know she's a girl.)

"That's why I'm gonna be king of the pirates!!" Luffy exclaimed enthusiastically, even though we were in the middle of nowhere.

I turned around and frowned looking at him being too cheery and loud as usual. "Can you be any louder?' I glare before pulling my head out of the small boat we were in and I continued to throw up out into the ocean.

I heard a hum coming from Luffy and saw him tilting his head a bit. "Are you sure you're okay?"

This is the downside of wanting to become a pirate and sail across the Grand Line. Well, not many people get sea sick and start to pour their guts out.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and sighed. "If only Coby didn't accept in becoming a Marine. He would've maybe given me some of the medicine he was carrying."

"He did offer some yet you said you'd be alright without it." Luffy reminds me making me groan.

"Don't make me throw up on you." I warn.

"Will you two shut up already?" I glared and looked back at the green haired man who I forgot had joined us.

"Huh? Why don't you make me, Zoro? Our friend here might be dying." Luffy said patting my back a bit too rough.

Zoro looked at us with a bored expression on his face and went back to closing his eyes. "You guys are insufferable, would've been nicer if I was still tied up."

I point and glared at him. "You should be thankful that we saved your ass."

"Luffy was the one who did. You're too weak to save anyone anyway, kid."

"I'm not a kid! I'm older than you think believe it or not!!" I shout getting defensive and forgetting that I had be throwing up.

"Then why are you acting like a kid?!"

"Guys will you stop arguing for once?" Luffy said stepping between us and calming Zoro as well when we saw an island up ahead.

Idiots are they really dumb and don't know I am secretly a girl. The reason why I like to crossdress if for fun, but mostly because I've seen the way pirates who are men are more respected.

I once had cut my hair short but decided to let it grow and use a wig instead, besides being in disguise had helped me with stealing from people.

Luffy with his devil fruit power stretched all the way until his feet hit the sand and he looked around in enthusiasm.

"Wow this island seems so cool! But why is it so quiet?!" He asked loudly.

"Maybe this is an island inhabited with ghosts." I muttered and heard Zoro scoff and began to grab his swords when the boat hit the sand below us.

Zoro jumped off of the boat and began to follow Luffy. "Hey, (Y/N). Are you coming or staying?"

I raised my head and tilted my head looking at Luffy. "You guys can go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."

He nodded and I saw both guys beginning to walk further into the island. Slowly I got up on my feet and jumped out of the boat as well. I was deep in my thoughts imagining what it will be like to travel across the world and get to know other famous pirates.

Luffy's dream has always been to become king of the pirates and his number 1 person he's always looked up to was Shanks, maybe Gold D. Roger in second place.

As for me..I really don't have a dream. I've just been following Luffy around. I don't have a family. Shanks was the one who raised me along with Luffy, I came along later in the picture and don't have any memories of my past, only a few glimpses here and there but maybe it's just me reliving someone else's dream.

"So he's also a devil fruit user?"

I stopped walking and ran to hide behind a building and I looked over and saw a group of pirates, my eyes were set on the one between all of them. Buggy the clown. I've seen his Wanted poster.. wait!

My eyes widened and then I glared when I spotted Luffy in a cage. Are you serious?! He got caught..huh? I looked and saw someone else with them too, a red headed girl.

Where is Zoro anyways?

I frowned even more when I saw he and Luffy were caught. God damn it. It's up to me now, now all I gotta do is find out if this girl is an enemy of ally.

I got out of my hiding place and prepared to face the gang of pirate clowns…

"Hang on!!"

Someone shouted and tried to reach for my hands but I was pulled away by the harsh tides of the sea. My eyes and lungs began to sting, I felt like it was the end for me. Just a few minutes ago I was with my family, are they dead? Will I die as well and meet them again?

I couldn't swim so I felt myself sinking lower into the dark cold sea. I wanted to cry but couldn't and right when I was ready accept my death I felt someone grab onto me and I was being pulled up again.

I gasped along with the person who had saved me. A man about the same age as my dad saved me, I continued to gasp and began to cough up the salty water I had in my lungs.

The sky was dark with clouds covering the sky, it was heavily raining with thunder.

"Don't die just yet kid! Hold onto this." The man exclaimed.

The man could swim with ease and he had placed me on top of a wooden piece of what I assumed was part of the ship that had exploded. I looked to my right and saw a boy my age, with blonde hair and green eyes, his eyes seemed scared as well.

Are we the only survivors?

My answer was clear the more we got away from the shipwreck and landed on an island. The man easily picked us up and placed us on his shoulder, but the more he continued to walk the more I felt he was struggling, it wasn't until we made it inside a cave that I realized he lost his leg.

I was about to comment on it but didn't when the man seemed angry at something. The boy and I exchanged looks and didn't say a word, we only saw the man lighting up a small fire place as we continued to hear thunder and lightning.

I don't know who this man is, this boy surely isn't his son…mom..dad…my eyes began to sting and I began to cry out loudly with tears running down my face along with a runny nose.

The man didn't say anything and the little boy seemed to stiffen and I saw a few tears forming in his eyes as well and he began to silently cry…

By the next morning the man, the pirate who saved us said he wanted to be alone so he left the boy and I a large bag of food. "We refuse to eat this because you're a pirate and pirates are bad people!!" The boy had shouted earlier.

The man said almost nothing and left me alone with the boy. The boy and I looked at each other and we both didn't say a word about the man.

"Umm do you think we can make a boat somehow and leave the island?" I quietly asked nervous and shy to ask this stranger for help.

"Does it look like we have a way out of this island?! The boy shouted glaring at me. "What would a girl know about sailing anyways?"

I began to cry again and I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I had punched him. "All I want is to see my parents again!"

The boy seemed surprised by my action and began to hold onto his swollen cheek. "H-hey don't cry. You're gonna make me cry again!"

It was too late. He was crying again….

It had been many days until the three of us were rescued. An odd boat with some friendly men were the one who saved us, the man who rescued the boys and us took the boy in as his own in a way, and he was about to send me off to live a normal life with someone who was willing to raise me.

The man somehow got a nice dress for me to wear, as a last send-off he had done a dessert for me. A strawberry cake I came to love at first bite.

He along with the men on the ship all were outside ready to say their goodbyes to me. I even saw a man or two begin to cry.

"I always wanted a small girl."

"You can't even feed yourself properly how are you supposed to raise a kid." I heard one of them say to another.

"You ready, kid?" I heard the man ask making me turn to look at him. I shook my head and the man sighed and patted my head once. "You'll soon understand why I'm sending you off. You'll have a proper life."

My eyes wandered over to the man and over to the small boy I was saved with. The boy stiffened when I looked at him, and I saw his pale cheeks turn to a pink color.

"I-I…" I didn't know exactly what to say, that's until he spoke up.

"I d-do hope you enjoyed the cake I made with help! Next time if we meet again I'll bake you a whole lot more..also…if we meet again I'll make you my wife!!" He exclaimed.

The men behind the boy groaned and one of them lightly hit his head. "That's no way of a send-off!"

I shyly smiled at all of them and the boy….

"Usopp!! Nami!! Are we there yet?!"

"How many times do we have to say, no!!"

I squinted my eyes when I opened them. "That was a strange dream." I muttered to myself and glared at the three who woke me up.

Few days have gone by since he fought Buggy and his crew along with a few more pirates. Usopp was the new crew member. He's a bit odd and a scaredy cat but he means well. If it wasn't for him. Luffy wouldn't have his new and proper ship, officially presenting himself as a pirate.

The sailing ship was huge and fitted with us do well. Luffy named it the Going Merry. A fitting name for a ship.

I looked to my left and saw Zoro fast asleep, I felt envious that he could sleep through this much talking and noise. I made sure my wig was still in place and I got up to join Nami up front. At least it's nice to have another girl around.

"So…you don't have trouble with sharing a room filled with guys?" I asked and saw Nami giving me an odd bur serious look.

"No?" She squinted her eyes looking at me and looked back at the tides.

Weird…It's a shame I can't talk about girl things with her.

Luffy said he was searching for the last member to our team. Luffy is Captain, we have a navigator..well kinda that being Nami, the main fighter being Zoro, Usopp as the sniper and I fix anything on the ship

Since none of us are cooks. Luffy suggested on finding a chef. I offered to be the one to fill everyone's stomach, but everything I cook always ends up burnt.

The rest of us began to get things done on the ship until a fight began with another ship and the Going Merry crashed into a ship. My mouth fell open when we crashed and accidently directed a cannon ball into the ship that wasn't even attacking us.

"Crap…Luffy!" I shouted and saw him smiling shamefully.

All of us walked closer to the deck and saw the great damage the other ship received. "We better head in there and talk to the person in charge. And you are going to apologize." I said grabbing onto Luffy's straw hat and he quickly grabbed it back and placed it on his head.

He said nothing and began to follow us. We got onto the other ship and read the ships name, The Baratie.

I looked around and this seemed familiar. "You okay?" Nami stopped and asked glancing back at me.

"Yeah.. everything's fine." I said still looking around and ran over to her side and began to follow the rest of the crew.

We all entered the ship and wow was it beautiful and extremely fancy. "Wow..this is something else. It doesn't feel like we're in the middle of the sea." I said in awe and stared around.

Everything looked so expensive. I saw people around sharing their meals and couples smiling at each other and drinking fancy wine. Not to mention the smell, I wonder how the food must taste!

I was practically drooling when I saw a huge meal in a table. Nami had grabbed the back of my clothes and dragged me away from a couple who was staring at me weirded out.

"Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N)." Nami muttered and went to sit down on an empty table.

I nodded at myself then went back to checking the place out. This seems so familiar…I started to walk around and peeked over and saw many chefs cooking the meals and they seemed to make it so easy.

"I have an order for a large plate of seafood rice, potato pallie and medium sized bowl of sea pork soup. I need it done in less than 10 minutes!" My mouth began to water even more.

"All have it done in 5." Someone said on the other side with a British accent.

"(Y/N)!" Someone hissed my name and I quickly went over to sit next to Nami and Zoro. Luffy came in as well while we sat down and patiently waited to talk to someone.

I had excused myself after waiting for a bit and went to the bathroom. When I returned I saw Nami still sitting down and she raised an eyebrow looking not pleased when a man began walking towards her.

I felt my heart race when I saw a tall figure standing just a few inches away from her. A handsome man with blonde hair with one of his eyes being a bit hidden by it. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue and white striped shirt under it with a black tie and matching dress pants.

"Would the lady like something sweet?" I saw a smirk spread across his face and Nami just stared at him and rolled her eyes.

Who is he?? And does he know Nami? The man was clearly flirting with her.

"You gotta be joking." I heard Nami ssy. She then turned to look at me.

I didn't know what to do or say. I simply stared at her confused then looked to see the man look at me, he glanced for a second then once again and was now looking directly at me. He immediately walked away from Nami and began to walk towards me.

I began to take a few steps back and I gasped when he took hold of my hand with both of his hands and saw him get down on one knee.

"You are the most gorgeous being I've laid my eyes on. A sight no other I've come across in the Grand Line.."

Thank goodness Nami couldn't listen but it was quiet clear to anyone that this man was flirting with me.

"Y-You've got it all wrong!" I said trying to pull back and felt my cheeks turning red. I can't let anyone know at the moment that I was crossdressing as a guy!!

"I'm never wrong. My eyes never fail when I see a beautiful lady as yourself."

If I weren't in this situation I would be falling on my knees. He's so cute and handsome! My lips began to quiver and I felt my entire body freeze. I've never met a man who shameless at flirting with a stranger.

The man rose up to his feet now towering me and smiling down at me. "I-I…"

He smiled and Introduced himself. "My name is Sanji."

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒

ㅤㅤghostface!mike schmidt x afton daughter!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, dark content, ghostface au

word count: 4.5k

summary: how were you supposed to know one of your closest friends was also the one in desperate need for revenge?

warnings: dubcon (this can also be considered noncon to some since there's the fear of death in place so if that's not your thing please don't read), knife use, manipulation, voyeurism but no one actually sees, daddy kink, piv, blowjob, nonconsensual somnophilia, male masturbation, reader doesn't know what william did, dirty talking, creampie

a/n: a day late but happy thanksgiving everyone 🖤 i am thankful for my josh hutcherson phase (normally I was going to post this yesterday but oh well you get it)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

How long has it been since you came here? How long has it been since you witnessed the clean beige exterior that now looked more suffocating than liberating? 

You observe the dust over the picture frames as you drop the suitcases, the sudden release of weight making your back bend back like a bow. You stare for a while. Your dad had bought this particular vacation home ages ago. Ironically he had done it so the family could spend some quality time together over the summers. That was before the incident. Before your mom left, only leaving you and him. 

Now the dirt outside was muddy from the pouring rain. Leaves turning to mush under the pressure of tires and boots. You hear the faint sound of the car door closing. Moments later Mike stands behind you. You can feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. It soothes you. 

“So this is the famous summer house huh?” he looks around, not bothering to close the door behind him, he takes a step further. “God, it’s cold in here. Please tell me there’s a heater somewhere.” 

“Probably in the basement. Remind you this place wasn’t meant for winter.” 

“Yeah I can see that from the windows,” he turns and finally closes the door. “It’s a bit eerie that anyone might just watch us from down there.” 

You scoff, “Who’s gonna watch? This house is the only one. Besides it’s just a couple days.” 

Your dad was finally selling the place. Meaning you had limited time to pack the things you wanted to keep before the rest was torn out. You knew packing all the old pictures would be overwhelming so you asked Mike to join and he was more than eager to help out—which was a bit surprising but you were grateful nonetheless. He was always kind to you. Always so gentle. He made your heart jump whenever he looked into your eyes, observing, searching them for something more. You never knew what he was searching for. 

Mike walks ahead with just his backpack, he’s wearing all black: black hoodie, black pants, black jacket. . . he’s completely contrasting his surroundings. He turns to you with rounded eyes and you melt a little. 

“So where am I staying?” 

“Let me show you,” It’s odd being in the halls again, you remember them feeling endless when you were a kid. The floor underneath you creaks. “Luckily we have a bunch of rooms. I don’t know what my parents were thinking, it’s not like we entertained a lot of guests.” 

“Well, it worked out in the end. Now I have a place to say.” 

“Silver lining,” you agree, showing his room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to head to bed and we can brainstorm where to start in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he steps inside the room and you can’t help but be reminded of how out of place he looks. “Good night.” 

“Good night, Mike.” 

He stands at the door with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Not that it’s important what his expression is. It’s not like anyone can see it underneath his mask. The mask that he’d bought last second. It is now or never. And this is his chance to avenge his brother, his broken family. This is the solution to all of it. 

It doesn’t help that you’re soundly sleeping. Your lips slightly parted, more skin showing with each rise and fall of your chest. Mike takes a step further inside. The wind howls against the naked windows. Yet, your room managed to stay warm. You turn around to lay on your back and he sees you parting your legs underneath the comforter. His cock grows hard at the sight, he’d love to take you right now. Fuck you until you gasp awake, your sweet cunt dripping with arousal—you’d tell him to stop, not recognizing who he is and he’d go on until you’re creaming around him. Your body becoming sweaty and warm. 

Mike licks his lips and rubs a palm over the outline of his cock. His eyes search your room. You hadn’t unpacked yet. Your suitcase open with clothes pouring out the edges. You probably just picked that flimsy shirt you were wearing and headed to bed. He slowly walks to the pile of clothes, within, he finds a pair of black lace underwear. Mike picks it up. A gloved thumb follows the patterns of delicate flowers. His lips curl upward, just what you were planning on doing with him here? In your old family home where it’s just the two of you?

He stands at the edge of your bed. He’s amazed at how much he can get away with without waking you. It’s amazing how much you trust him without a second thought. 

Too bad he doesn’t trust you. 

With your panties, he fists his cock, the fabric catches against the head prompting the jerk of his hips. He strokes himself fast and hard. Precome seeping into the delicate fabric. His eyes are glued to your lips, the pacing of your breath, your body that’s sprawled underneath the sheets. His cock twitches. Balls tightening as he imagines the sounds you would make for him with a knife against your throat and him deep inside your cunt. 

The smallest of groans manage to escape him as he spills into his fist and the fabric, thick ropes of come staining your panties, he inches closer. Hips stuttering helplessly while wishing to see himself dirty your pretty parted lips. He knows he will soon enough. He sees the way you look at him, how desperate you are for affection and a sense of belonging. Mike enjoys the sense of control he has over you. It makes it all that much more sweeter. 

He’ll take you. Break you. And pull you back together again. 

He’ll ruin William Afton’s precious little girl. 

You’re blessed with a little bit of sun today. Bits of dust sway in the air, boxes upon boxes standing around you and Mike. Two empty coffee cups lay idly on the floor. You slept like a baby last night, which was something you hadn’t expected, yet when you woke up you felt a bit off. Your door was open for starters. And you definitely remember closing it. Mike had just shrugged it off, saying that you were tired and probably forgot. 

Which is likely, now that you think about it. 

Mike picks up one of the framed photos of you and your dad. Despite the sunlight filling the living room, a chill settles over your skin. He observes the photo longer than necessary. Then he traces the engraved name underneath the picture. 

“Afton,” he murmurs. “I keep forgetting you’re an Afton.” 

He doesn’t let go of the picture as his eyes meet yours, you don’t like the look in them. He almost seems angry. 

“What does it matter?” you say in a sheer tone. “It’s not like it means anything whether I’m an Afton or not.” 

“I’d beg the differ. And I know some other people would too.” 

Mike places the photo in a box, eyes dropping to the floor. Heat rises to your cheeks. You’re confused. Very confused. “Are talking about Freddy Fazbear’s? You know I don’t like talking about that Mike.” 

“No need to get defensive. I’m just saying that your surname isn’t nothing,” he gives you a small smile but it does little to calm your nerves. “You were never suspicious of him?” 

“Of what?” 

He gives you a blank stare, “Of the murders.” 

Your mouth opens and very promptly snaps shut. Mike was never interested in this before. He hadn’t even asked about it, not once. Your shoulders drop and your heart feels heavy in your chest—Were you ever suspicious of him? Of your own father? To be fair you never thought about it. You shut your eyes and plugged your ears. You never wanted to think about that wretched pizzeria and all the things that happened in it. 

Your stomach jumps when he reaches out, curling his palm over the slope of your knee. You release a long breath. 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” he says, his eyes now soft. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t. You get up, feeling the weight of his gaze as you do. “Alright, I think I’m gonna take a brisk shower then we can make pasta or something.” 

“I can start on that,” he answers. “Pesto or marinara?” 

“You can pick. I’m fine with either.” 

He nods and you leave before he stands. You feel icky all over. The dust and the sudden reality check about your father’s pizzeria and his role in all that had happened make you desperate to scrub yourself clean. 

You swiftly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, giving it a hard shove until you hear the satisfying click. The inside smells of lavender. 

You strip and throw your clothes into the washing machine. The water warms up easily when you step inside. You draw the curtain shut and sigh at the clean water caressing your skin. Warm showers are the solution to everything. Even daddy issues. You begin to wash your hair, a soft moan dropping from your lips as you massage your scalp. The water trickles down your neck and between your breasts. With soapy hands, you give yourself a firm squeeze and graze your thumbs over the pebbled nipples. 

“That’s nice,” you sigh, hands moving up to rinse your hair. Maybe after the shower you can lay down and treat yourself until lunch is ready. Your vibrator’s fully charged, and the prospect of Mike hearing the faint buzz of it makes your pussy throb. 

Just as you reach for the loofah a soft click echoes in the steamy room. 

Your body tenses. Your heart suddenly beating a mile a minute. 

Your eyes turn in the direction of the door but you can’t see well with the curtain. All you see is the blurry darkness of the hall thanks to the open entrance. “Mike?” you call out, voice trembling. “If that’s you it’s not funny.” 

Of course, it’s not him. Even from here, you can smell the pasta sauce. Pesto. You desperately search for any kind of weapon you can use but all you see are shampoo bottles and the loofah you’re currently holding. You swallow. Turning back to the curtain, you see a faint shadow. It tilts its head. 

You need to attack. Need to do something before they do. How did they even get in here? 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

But you’re frozen with fear as the stranger curls their fingers around the shower curtain. The rest happens suddenly. The curtain is ripped open and you see who it is—Mostly. You see the mask, two pitch-black eyes staring back at you. Instead of screaming you jump away, the porcelain slips from underneath you, you fall and as soon as you do, you’re swallowed by darkness. 

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a sharp sting against your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake.” 

“M—Mike?” 

Your vision stops shaking and you finally see him. Mike, and his two soft brown eyes staring down at you. He’s holding a ball of cotton, the white stained by a bit of red. “What. . .” You attempt to get up but quickly forgo your decision when your head throbs. Mike clicks his tongue and presses the cotton to your head, your eyes tear up as it stings, but it slightly subsides seconds later. Looking down, you notice a towel was thrown over you. 

“I should be asking you that, how the hell did you slip?” 

“I. . . I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean you didn’t?” 

“There. . there was someone in the shower,” Your blood freezes as you remember. “He. . .I think it was a he? He was wearing a mask and he opened the curtain and fuck—I was so scared Mike.” 

Your arms move on their own and wrap around his neck, pulling him close. It takes him only a second to mimic your movement, wrapping his arms around your cold shivering body. His fingers trace your spine. A pleasant shiver runs up your back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he murmurs. “But. . . the door was closed.” 

What? “What?” You shake your head as you pull away from him, ignoring the towel slightly sliding lower. “There’s no way. How did you see me then?” 

“Well, I shouted for you but you didn’t respond. Then I knocked and you didn’t respond again. The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.” 

“And you found me unconscious? No one was here?” 

“Only you.” 

You shudder. That’s absolutely terrifying. 

“Come on let’s. . .” he swallows and you notice his eyes lingering where your towel has fallen. The swell of your breasts exposed. Looking away, you pull the fabric up and properly wrap it around yourself. His eyes move up to meet your gaze. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can eat.” 

Your last night here. Finally. 

After the unfortunate fall in the shower, you never managed to shake the feeling of being watched in your own house. You didn’t say anything to Mike but you knew he saw how freaked out you were from your eyes, by the way you would jump at every sound. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the stranger’s mask—those damn black sockets and open mouth staring back at you. It didn’t help that every morning you found your door wide open. You could’ve sworn that you closed it. But without fail, the door was open in the morning. 

And you’re so grateful to be done with it all. 

Stacks of boxes stand tall near the door. You were adamant about having everything ready tonight so that as soon as the sun peaked through the two of you could leave. Which was why you had ordered Mike to pack his suitcase— you’re doing the same, folding clothes with shaky hands and hoping the morning would come faster. 

Throwing your shirt into the suitcase your brows furrow, “What the hell?” you murmur as you lower yourself to your knees. The drawers and closet are emptied out, so why the hell do you only have three pairs of underwear? 

Sweat beads at your forehead. With panic, you rummage through the neatly folded clothes. You don’t care about the mess or the fact that you’ll have to fold them again—why can’t you find the other pairs? 

You’re completely defeated as your entire body deflates. Just three. You remember packing ten. They’re gone. All gone. Stolen. 

Your heart lurches and you feel it beating in your throat. You want to leave. You want to leave. You want to leave. 

The phone rings. 

It’s loud and booming. Your eyes shot towards the hallway. It’s the landline. A phone that hadn’t been used for god knows how long. You weren’t even aware that it was still connected. 

You blink rapidly, forcing the sting of tears to fade. You stand on shaky legs as you head towards the phone in the living room. You vaguely hear Mike mumbling a melody that’s familiar but also not at the same time. 

You stare at your reflection in the widows as you pick up the phone. Normally you’d appreciate the view. The dark sky, the swaying pine trees. But not today. 

You clear your throat, “H—Hello?” 

You hear a faint static, a low internal breathing, then the silence talks back, saying your name. You shudder at the rasp in his voice, fear weighing you down and gluing you to the floor. “Who is this?” you ask. 

“You know who I am,” he murmurs and takes a deep inhale. “We’ve met before remember? That moment in the bathroom.” Your body freezes all over, he chuckles, then speaks as if reminiscing a fond memory. “You looked so amazing. Nipples hard, body wet. Were you touching yourself?” 

You remain silent, eyes glued to the hall that is lit by Mike’s room. You want to call out. You really do. But you’re terrified. 

“Was it him you were thinking about?” 

“That’s. . .” you swallow. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Everything you do is my business,” he snaps but then the harsh baritone of his voice quickly softens. “Fine. Don’t. I know the answer anyway.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want the truth, Miss Afton.” Your breath catches, your knees begin to shake. “Just answer my question and maybe you won’t die.” 

You remain silent and you hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl. Now, do you know your father is a murderous piece of trash? Yes or no?” 

You close your eyes, shake your head, you can’t answer. “Fine,” he huffs. “Do you think you deserve to live?” 

“I. . .” Your mouth goes dry and your fingers tighten around the phone. “I do.” 

Honestly, you’re not sure if you believe that. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but that’s just not correct,” he answers with a melodic lilt. “You don’t deserve anything. Why should your life matter more than the other kids that were killed by your father?” 

“It shouldn’t.” 

Your voice barely comes out in a whisper now. Your eyes drop to the floor, maybe if you run and get to Mike in time you can save you both? 

“Is your dad a killer yes or no?” then he adds. “You better answer correctly this time.” 

“I don’t know,” you say this time, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

“Wrong.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath you open them again. All you see is your reflection. “I’ve been watching you,” he says. “You sleep like a log. I watched you. Fucked my fist while you were sleeping soundly, dreaming of sunshine and rainbows,” he sighs. “Or whatever the fuck girls like you dream about.”

You’re appalled by the sudden gush of wetness that courses through you. You shake your head, trying to push the images away. “Please don’t do this,” you beg. 

He stops speaking for a good while, for a second you think he hung up, but then you hear his breath in your ear and know that he’s still there. “I keep forgetting.” 

“Forgetting what?” 

“That you’re an Afton.” 

Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach. Every fiber of skin burning and tingling with the realization. You’ve heard those words before. You’ve heard the hidden accusation in them. Your ear burns from the phone pressed against it, you press it harder, not wanting to miss a second of dialogue. Your lips brush against the plastic as you do. 

“Mike?”

The line goes dead. Silent. And you realize you preferred words coming from the other line. Tortorously slow, as if in a dream, you place the phone back in its cradle. You feel him before you see him. Your head turns. You feel every muscle pulling as you do. 

And there he is. 

The man with the mask. 

“Mike?” you say again with less conviction. He tilts his head, not moving, not saying anything. Your body stiffens and your eyes drop to his hands where you see the sharp edge of a knife. You drag your gaze back to the mask, hoping that you’re staring into his eyes, “Why?” 

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. You’re inches away from the wide windows. “I had a brother,” he says, you’re surprised to find yourself relaxing upon hearing his voice. “I’ve tracked down the suspects. Looked at similar cases for years. Every bit of information leads to Afton.” 

“I had nothing to do with it.” 

Another step. The glass is cool underneath your palms. 

“You father did,” he answers. He stands only an inch away now, your stomach jumps when he presses the sharp edge of the knife against your neck. You hold your breath. “The day he took him is the day I lost everything. My family shattered. All because of him. And now. . .” Mike presses the knife harder, a hint of pain blossoming from where he’d cut. Your eyes snap shut. “Now I’ll take his little girl. Eye for an eye.” 

“Mike, please,” you whisper. Then you say something that surprises you both. “Take off the mask. If I’m going to die, I want to see you.” 

He tenses but obliges anyway. The mask falls to the floor, his hair mussed, soft curls fall over his forehead. A bit of stubble on his chin from not shaving at all since you two arrived. He doesn’t look scary, not at all. He looks vengeful, yes, but the softness in his eyes is still there. 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

Mike’s nostrils flare as he inhales, he exhales through parts lips, you feel his warm breath on your skin. “I’m going to ruin you.” The knife is replaced with his hand, he squeezes your throat, pulls you away from the glass, and slams you into it. “You’re mine now. I own you.” 

You shudder as he lets you go, his hands fumble with his jeans, and the fabric pools at his ankles. “Get on your knees and suck daddy’s cock.” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed but do as you’re told anyway. You drop to your knees. His cock achingly hard in front of you. He holds himself and drags the wet tip across your lips. He slides the underside of his cock against your face and without thought you dart your tongue out, tasting him. Mike groans, the sound rattling in his chest. With no warning given, he slips his cock between your lips and stops halfway. Your eyes water at how thick he is. 

When you look up you see he’s holding his phone, camera directed at you with his cock in your mouth. “Sorry,” he says with a faint smirk. “I need a souvenir to remember how good you look with my cock in your mouth. Who knew Afton’s precious daughter was such a slut.” 

Your eyes flutter as he shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. He cradles your head and starts fucking himself deep into your mouth. “You know,” he rasps. Mike pushes himself especially deep and smiles broadly when you choke around him. “You really should be thanking me for not slitting your throat during all the nights I watched you.” 

He suddenly stops and pulls out until it’s only the head between your lips. His cock throbs on your tongue, he forces your gaze up to him, “Thank me for not slitting your throat.” 

“Thank—” It’s hard to speak with him still between your lips. You swallow and try again, your nipples tight. “Thank you for not slitting my throat.” 

“Such an obedient girl,” he muses. “I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house. Get up—” 

He says that but lifts you himself, impatient, he presses you against the window, your cheek smushed against the clear surface. Your neck strains a little. His breath caresses the back of your neck, his lips on your ear, “Time to pay for your father’s sins.”

Mike lifts your shirt and pulls down your sweats. His cock lays heavy above the small of your back. Warm and wet. You clench as he pushes you forward, your breasts fully pressed against the glass. He kicks your legs apart, holding your arms back, Mike slips inside you with ease. Your breath halts in your throat. You only feel pleasure. You drip down his length, and with a groan, he buries himself to the hilt. 

“I knew you’d been waiting for this,” he groans. “So fucking wet—” 

“M—Mike—” 

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, his forehead brushing against the back of your head. “Not Mike.” 

“Daddy,” you moan as he pulls out and slams back in. You choke. “Daddy—” 

Mike fucks into your harder, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, wet squelches following. Your knees shake as you find yourself completely immobile against the glass. His fingers curl around your neck and he yanks your head back, hips relentless. 

“Look at that, anyone could see you now. I wish we had an audience.” Your cunt squeezes him like a vice, his hips stutter forward, a sharp moan rattling in his throat. He laughs. “Does that turn you on?” Helpless, you nod. “That’s it, take it. Daddy’s whore.” 

“Kiss me—please—” 

The plea takes him by surprise, he stops, hand tensing around your neck, you feel the pulse of his cock deep inside you. He drags his hips down your neck and teases you with his teeth. Goosebumps rise over your skin. And finally—finally—those perfect plush lips meet your own. It’s cruel really. The red strings of fate that tie you two together. You’re still not sure what to make of it all. Or of him. But you surrender. You surrender to his mouth and tongue. Mike swallows you whole. His tongue moves lavishly over yours, sliding and sucking as he presses harder inside you. 

“Gonna come inside,” he breathes into your mouth. His hand drops between your legs, your body shaking as he draws tight circles around your clit. 

Mike’s lips meet your throat, gentle then ravenous, making their way to the blankets of your clavicle, scraping the delicate skin. You arch against him, pleasure building, craving more. He thrusts harder, deeper, the pleasure increasing with each movement. His fingers grab your hips, and you can feel yourself tightening around him, his cock slamming against your core inside of you. Obscene sounds come from where he’s playing with your clit. You feel like a rag doll. And soon the coil snaps, you’re falling. 

Your entire body goes tense, his name leaving your lips in an urgent plea as the pleasure overtakes you. You shake and tremble, Mike continues to hammer into you, hand leaving your core and bracing itself near your head. Briefly, you manage to look outside. See the darkness that looms over the forest. Then you notice his reflection in the glass, eyes meeting yours. 

He smiles. 

Mike moans loudly, lips parting, his hips stutter over and over, spilling himself inside. Your eyes roll back, a whimper falling from your mouth as you take all of it. He holds himself there until his come starts to drip from where he stretches you. Your forehead finds purchase on the glass. Cold and soothing. His lips brush the back of your neck. 

“You look so tired already but we’re not done yet,” he parts your lips with his fingers and pushes them inside. Teary, you find his eyes in the reflection once more. He’s pleased. “I was serious in what I said, Miss Afton. I own you, now.” 

“Mike. . .” 

“And no matter where you run off to,” he murmurs, cutting you off. A hint of annoyance in using his name.  “I’ll always come back.”

[pastryfication]

hii, I don't know if you can and especially if you want to do this fic, but I just finished watching the Wimbledon final (I'm a Carlos Alcaraz girly) and I wanted to ask you if you could make a Leclerc sister! reader x Carlos Alcaraz (with the addition of Charles, Arthur and Lorenzo obviously) if you don't want to write it I apologize for the inconvenience, but if you do I thank you so much🫶🏼💕

(Sorry if My english Is not good, but Is not My native language)

hi! thank you so much for the request 🫶

i tried my best with this but i don’t know much about tennis and i’ve only watched like half the matches of wimbledon this year so i had to make my dad give me a quick break down of the finale… i know this is not as good as you probably expected but i hope you like it either way!!

wimbledon winner | carlos alcaraz

pairing: carlos alcaraz x leclerc sister!reader

warnings: very bad descriptions of tennis?

you can hardly contain your excitement as you guide your family through the bustling crowds of the wimbledon grounds. today is the day your boyfriend is competing in the final against none other than novak djokovic. the atmosphere is electric, and the excitement is palpable.

you had invited your entire family, wanting to share this special moment of your life with them and your brothers, charles and arthur, are just as—if not more—thrilled thrilled than you, though their enthusiasm is more subdued. your oldest brother, lorenzo, and his girlfriend, charlotte, are chatting animatedly, while your mother walks beside you, her eyes wide with awe at the grandeur of it all.

"i stilll can't believe we're here," arthur says, glancing around with a grin. "watching carlos in the final. it's incredible."

"he's going to do great," charles adds, giving you a reassuring smile. "he's worked so hard for this."

"i know," you reply, feeling a surge of pride for your boyfriend. "he's been training non-stop. he deserves this."

as you make your way to your seats, you can't help but feel a rush of nerves. the stadium is enormous, and the crowd's energy is almost overwhelming, but having your family here with you calms you a bit.

you find your seats and settle in, your heart pounding with anticipation. the match begins, and the tension is palpable. djokovic is a formidable opponent, but carlos is playing with a determination you've never seen before.

every point is a battle, and the crowd is on the edge of their seats. you find yourself gripping charles' hand, almost breaking his fingers, but he doesn’t mind. he’s unable to look away from the court as well, finding the match as exciting as you. carlos is moving with such grace and power, each shot more impressive than the last.

"he's incredible," charlotte whispers, her eyes wide with admiration. "i've never seen anyone play like this.”

"he's got this," lorenzo says confidently, sensing your nervousness. "you can see it in his eyes."

as the match progresses, carlos begins to pull ahead. his serves are precise, his volleys unstoppable. the crowd erupts with cheers, and you can't help but join in, your heart swelling with pride.

when the final point is won, and carlos emerges victorious, the stadium explodes with applause. you jump to your feet, tears of joy streaming down your face. your family is cheering just as loudly, their pride evident in their faces.

carlos looks up into the stands, his eyes searching for you. when he sees you, his face lights up with a radiant smile. he lifts his racket in triumph, and you blow him a kiss, your heart just about to burst.

"he did it!" you exclaim, turning to hug your mother. "he really did it!"

"we knew he could," she replies, her voice filled with emotion. "he's an incredible player."

as the celebrations continue, you make your way down to the court. carlos is surrounded by reporters and fans, but when he sees you, he breaks away and runs to you, scooping you up in his arms.

"you were amazing," you say, your voice choked with emotion. "i'm so proud of you."

"i couldn't have done it without you," he replies, his eyes shining with love. "having you here, knowing you were watching . . . it made all the difference."

you kiss him, the world fading away as you lose yourself in the moment.

your family joins you quickly after, and carlos is soon enveloped in hugs and congratulations.

"you were fantastic, mate," charles says, clapping carlos on the back. "absolutely incredible."

"thank you," carlos replies, his smile never wavering. "it means a lot to have you all here."

the rest of the day is a blur of celebrations and happiness. you can hardly believe it's real, that carlos has won the wimbledon final. but as you stand by his side, surrounded by your family, you know that this is just the beginning.

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: 7.2K

paring: Bokuto x fReader

warning(s): panty stealing, male masturbation - in several locations (shower, bedroom, laundry room), scent kink (wasn't my intention but it's in there), hint of obsessive behaviour oral. Bokuto is a perv in this, so be warned.

authors note: well, it has finally arrived - this darn fic I have been spending way too long on; to put it into perspective I started this in July. But anyway, what started as self-indulgent fluff morphed into something completely different and I am pretty happy with it! Hope you all enjoy this new side to our favourite volleyball playing himbo~ 🔮

Life always had a way of making itself just a little difficult, no matter what you did; even if the answer led to the best possible solution and outcome for you; you had to make sacrifices so you could succeed in a world that was always trying to see you fail. This was one such occasion.

You just moved to a new neighborhood, one that was far away from family and friends for your career. In order to move ahead, to gain the comfortable life you always wanted for yourself, you had to move away from all that you knew. It wasn’t easy, the decision taking you weeks to accept. At least you had your move, the unpacking and organizing of your new apartment, and your work to keep you busy; to keep your mind occupied on things that didn't revolve around how alone you felt. 

But that could only last for so long, a temporary solution for an abiding problem; you knew it wouldn’t last. And after all the boxes were unpacked, all your furniture was properly arranged - and rearranged, and you finally found your stride at work; you couldn’t distract your mind any longer. That getting up and ready for work became a task that grew harder and harder to do every day. After a few months of adjustments, you just couldn’t bear the loneliness you felt whenever you came home; to emptiness and silence.

It wasn’t something you were used to and you knew you would never become. It never happened before in your life, never was a constant, even if your family was away you could always hop onto chats and spend your nights laughing with your friends.

And now? Well, you were halfway across the world. When you got up, your friends were fast asleep, and when they finally sent you a message you were on your way to bed. There was no real way to quell the ache that you felt in your heart in the traditional ways you knew how; you knew you needed a different solution.

 And there was really only one solution you could think of.

You got yourself a dog.

A little lapdog with a goofy, but sweet, personality from the shelter nearby. A scruffy thing who couldn’t contain the hopeful wag of his tail as you walked by his kennel; one that couldn’t help but jump on the chain link barrier that separated you both, and then onto your legs when you went to greet him. One that filled your face with almost desperate kisses when you finally bent down to say hello; to give him a chance at a new home.

And it seemed you both were made for each other. Out of all the ones you saw that day, this one looked almost as lonely as you. But now? Well, the loneliness that etched across your sweet dog’s face no longer showed, just as the heaviness that clouded and weighed your heart down started to fade away.

No longer would you come home to emptiness, instead you had a ball of fluff and fur to greet you with enthusiasm as they wagged their tail and jumped on you in excitement to see you once more. And no longer would your little friend ever have to worry about sleeping all alone on a cold cement floor, with only a thin bed to keep him from getting a chill, wondering when someone would take him home and give him a warm bed to sleep on.

A match made in heaven, you joked as you snuggled up together each night on the couch to watch your favorite TV program after enjoying a nice dinner. Though your little furry friend always broke up your cuddle session, and your show, in the middle as they whined to go to the bathroom.

You would always oblige, and soon it became a part of your schedule. You began to enjoy the fresh air and routine it gave; to where 5-minute walks would turn into 10 and then into 15. Now your evenings consisted of 30-minute walks with your best friend by your side, trotting along as you mapped out all sorts of new paths to take, new sights to see, and new parts of the city to explore.

You finally, after a few months of exploring with your enthusiastic little friend, found a route that fit both of your needs. Lots of beautiful scenery for you to enjoy with limited hills and roads to cross so your aging dog didn’t lose steam too quickly. 

Every night you did this little song and dance, to the point where if you ran even a few minutes behind your little friend would start giving you attitude. You also surmised that the time you did go on your walks was perfect as you never really ran into anyone, or their own dogs, or had to worry about anything else in the world that would break your stride. For all you knew, it was just you and your dog - no one or anything else mattered.

Well, turns out there was one other person in your world, though he had yet to make it be known.

Besides, Bokuto had not meant for this to be a daily occurrence.

He noticed you a few times whenever he got home after practice, your walking figure catching his eye whenever he moved about in his apartment. He never really gave it, or you, much thought.

That was until he injured his leg and had to be on bed rest for two whole weeks. Not being able to move, not being able to practice and play volleyball - the one thing he loved most - was nearly unbearable. But that doom and gloom would be alleviated, just slightly, whenever you would walk by.

Bokuto wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the consistency? The reassurance then whenever your recognizable figure crossed through his window meant that he got through another day. Maybe it was because it gave him something to do, he did find himself casually watching other dog walkers that passed by throughout the afternoon and evening. Or maybe it was because it was specifically you. Bokuto couldn’t put his finger on why, but something drew him to you.

“Probably because she’s new around here.” That was his reasoning. Made sense to him, a new person in the neighborhood would cause some added curiosity.

But he knew that wasn’t the case. It’s not like he knew anyone in his neighborhood, let alone his apartment building.

Bokuto truly had not meant for all this to escalate out of proportion; to peer out his apartment window every day until you showed up. And now here he was, weeks after being healed, rushing to get his shoes off and throw his stuff to the side so he could watch you pass by. It was pathetic really, to be so enthralled by someone who walked across the street every day, but his heart kept pulling him closer to the window.

His friends had teased him about it, one day after practice as he rushed to get home with them by his side so they could drop their stuff off at his place before going out for the night. Watching him as he got all flustered at a person across the street.

“Dude, it’s kinda creepy, ya know!” Atsumu laughed, arms laying across the taller man's shoulder as he leaned on him - peering out the window to see you obviously unaware of their stares “Watching this girl obsessively.”

“That’s textbook stalker behavior~” Kuroo would join, also laying his weight on him, poking his flushed cheeks in a teasing manner.

“N-no it’s not! I am just making sure she passes my block safely! It’s dangerous to walk at night, you know!” Bokuto would shoot back.

“Ya’live in the safest neighborhood in the whole city!”

“Yeah, and besides whatta gonna do from all the way up here?”

Bokuto just shrugged them off, mumbling more to himself some sort of excuse for his behavior - some sort of made-up plan he had in place should the need to rescue you arised. But he knew, as much as they did, that there was no plan - or excuse - he just liked knowing you walked by him every day; that you were in his life for a brief moment.

At the time, he didn’t think much of it; at how alone he really was. Thinking that when he caught your eye briefly and grew a little bashful was out of embarrassment and not because it made his heart flutter. But it happened once again when they were hanging out, a little get-together before leaving on tour, how Bokuto would keep looking out his window with worry in his eye before they would soften into a form of sweet longing, that same woman walking by.

“Just go down and ask her out!” Hinata's bright voice would encourage him.

“Not like she’ll turn you down!’ Atsumu would add with a wink

The teasing would continue, even after you passed, of how much of a love-struck chicken he was for not talking to you. About how he was a little creepy for just staring at you and your dog as you walked by without a care in the world.

“I know,” Bokuto would sigh, longingly, in agreement “I’m just waiting for the right moment is all.”

Then, months later, after the winter tour had ended and the world was in the warmer, but rainier, spring weather, Bokuto would finally get that opportunity. When you accidentally dropped your pair of gloves that were stored in your pocket; an accident you didn't notice as you were too busy getting, and opening, the doggy bag that also resided in your cute little coat. Quickly, without truly thinking, he ran out to grab them. Waiting until after you had turned the corner off his street to make his way to where they lay, his bare feet becoming frozen on the concrete as he trotted over. He didn’t want them to be stolen or swept away with the wind to be forever lost. Gloves were expensive after all! And besides, given the cute design they had, he could tell you would miss them. A small sense of victory filled his being, as he now had the perfect chance to talk to you.

But that chance never really did come.

You came by the next day, earlier than normal, making Bokuto curse as he contemplated running out of his apartment in nothing but a towel; figuring against it as it would not be the best first impression or look good on his character or reputation, and he knows Iwaizumi would kill him if he got sick doing something so idiotic.

So, he figured he would get the chance to meet you tomorrow. That he would make sure to be ready early just in case you decided to pull a stunt like that again. But as he eagerly waited by his window, gloves in hand, the next evening you never did appear; you figure never walking down his street. He waited until late that night, just in case, but you never showed. Not the next day, or the day after that.

Soon days turned into weeks and then into months, and you had never once appeared in his window, walking on that sidewalk across the street. The gloves, tan in colour and with bright pink pom poms, lay untouched as they would greet him by his door every day, waiting for you as much as him.

Bokuto wondered where you, and your little furry companion, had disappeared to. He hoped it was somewhere good. Couldn’t help but have his mind wander to where you were and to all of the things you were getting up to, and couldn’t help but dream that it involved him as well.

Maybe you were in the countryside, enjoying the vastness and peace they gave as their winds swooped over the wheat fields and across your cheeks. Or perhaps in the mountains, enjoying their trails as you hiked up and down them, your dog in tow trying to keep up with a tree branch in their mouth. Or maybe you were in some onsen, inhaling the steam with a happy sigh as you soaked in the hot, soothing, waters.

Bokuto always had to stop his brain from continuing when he thought of you at hot springs; ignoring the strain of his cock as he thought about how soft and warm your skin would be - how he wished to be bathing right next to you, to feel every curve of your body.

He had to stop, he didn’t want to defile you like that; not without even knowing your name.

Bokuto just wanted you back. Even if it was only for the mere moments, the few seconds he got when you strolled on by with your happily trotting dog; strolled on briefly through his life with that pretty smile.

~

You hadn’t meant for your trip back home to last as long as it did. What started as a simple voyage home early for the Easter holiday extended considerably to having you stay. With your family’s urgent needs overtaking any reason you may have had to leave. You were lucky the job you had was flexible, able to accommodate you in your time of need, and that you had your dog with you; unable to bring yourself to think of what might have happened if you left him in a kennel all those months.

Now you were just lucky everything ended well and that you could finally get back to your cozy apartment and the routine you had made for yourself and your sweet dog; the one you neglected for a long time, and were sorely wanting to get back to.

You sighed in delight when the fresh air you longed to return to, that only this city could provide, hit your face as you made you trek out on your usual route once more; the sereneness you felt was like seeing an old good friend after years apart, as your feet began their first steps on the pavement while you enjoyed the late October breeze.

~

It was a long and grueling practice and Bokuto truly couldn’t think of a better way to end his day than crawling into bed and forgetting it ever existed. Kicking his door open with a groan, practically throwing his bag by his coat closet with a loud thud, and placing his keys in the bowl on the little table he kept nearby. He eyed the gloves too small for him briefly, eyes and body filled with a sense of sadness as he regaled at how he let his opportunity go.

Kicking himself internally he sighed, hands rubbing his face as he groaned once more, this time in frustration, as he walked further into his home.

“Why didn’t I just go out there? Not like I was naked…” he grumbled as he began shrugging off his coat, slowly making his way to his bedroom and walking by that cursed window.

His eye caught movement, one that made his head turn slightly out of impulse. But never fully, he knew it was of someone walking by, so he ignored it at first. Assuming it was someone just doing a late job, running an errand, or stopping by to get their mail. Whatever the case was, he didn’t want to think further of it - to have those thoughts lead to you.

But something inside him told him to take another glance; compelling him to go to the window like he once had many times before and to take a proper look, his heart aching at him to try just one more time.

And there was you. Appeared at long last when all hope seemed lost, leaving him dumbstruck as he stared out at your form with his jaw slack and his eyes wide.

It didn’t take long for him to break out of his surprised stupor, rushing out of his apartment as he fumbled with his coat, falling with little grace as he tripped over his duffle bag but with no care about the poor downstairs apartment that had to endure the loud thud or his now aching knee or whether he had grabbed his keys to prevent him of being locked out. All that mattered at that moment was you, and the tan gloves that you had lost and which would grant him the opportunity to finally talk to you.

Bokuto called out to you, his voice he was sure louder than expected as you jumped in scared surprise, as he dashed across the street to where you stood in a stupor. He was out of breath, he knew, and he also knew that while he stood there panting to try and regain it was not helping his case.

This was truly the last thing you were expecting, normally your brief counters with people were a polite smile as you passed each other, briefly sharing the sidewalk. And it was so far and few in between that you never really thought much about it or the people you passed; them always being a blur in your memory.

But this? Well, you would be sure never to forget this moment. Not only was your heart racing, the loudness of the man’s shout before you startled you to the point you were sure you would keel over with a heart attack at any moment. But that he was incredibly tall and imposing and…..handsome.

You couldn’t help the way your face warmed at the sight of him, both out of bashfulness over how close he was and how his golden eyes bore into your own, and in embarrassment at how little your fight or flight response acted; just allowing you to stand there frozen with a dumb gaped look on your face.

“I- I’m really sorry for scaring you!” Bokuto apologizes, moving his open palms up to showcase he meant to harm “You just um - uh you dropped your gloves a while ago and I-I uh grabbed them, which I guess sounds bad, but I just didn’t want them stolen or anything, and I- I have been meaning to give them back to you so um…..”

Bokuto gently, but with little grace as he fumbled for a moment, pulled your gloves out of his pocket, holding them out for you to take “Yeah… here. Sorry, it took so long to give them back…”

You found his eagerness, and nervous fumbling adorable, as you timidly laughed; gingerly reaching out to take your old gloves from his grasp.

“Thank you…” You mumbled, your voice unable to break higher than that “But I suppose it wasn’t your fault. I’ve been gone for a while, family stuff ya know? But um, again, thanks. It’s really sweet of you to wait so long to give them back.”

You had a hard time meeting his gaze, embarrassed even more over the fact that you not only lost your gloves, but that you forgot all about it and that the poor man before you had kept them for months, waiting to get rid of them and back to you, and that said man was staring so intently at you - you had never been looked at in such a way and you didn’t know what to do.

“Of course, it’s only the neighborly thing to do, right?” Bokuto smiled, making your knees buckle more, “I’m Bokuto Koutaro, I live in this building here! And who is this?”

“I am so sorry!” You squeaked, trying to gently pry your dog off his legs “His name is Rufus, he’s so terrible about jumping on people, he just wants pets, I’m so so sorry!”

“Hey, don’t we all?” He laughed, crouching down to give your dog the attention he so cutely asked for. “Aren’t you a cutie! So, Rufus, are you new around here? New to the neighborhood maybe? Cause I have seen lots of cute dogs but never seen you before!”

“Kinda,” You giggled, laughing at how your dog had thrown himself on his back for belly rubs and the cute way this stranger - well not technically stranger anymore - was indirectly asking you questions “We moved here almost a year ago, but only really started walking this route for a few weeks before, well, we had to leave for a bit.”

“Yes…. I see, that’s very interesting Rufus, thank you.” Bokuto nodded, sticking his chin out further to get some of the kisses your dog was trying to give “Now tell me, what’s your pretty owner’s name, hm?”

“O-oh uh um!” You fumbled, caught off guard by the compliment, but still managed to provide him the response he was looking for; giving forth a shy smile to his more bright one.

“Well, that’s a pretty name, isn’t it Rufus?”

“T-thank you, um we-we um should get going, the sun is starting to set and stuff… don’t want to take up more of your time.” You mumbled, tugging your dog gently, and successfully, away to slowly start walking your route once more.

“H-hey, wait!” Bokuto called out, taking a few steps to close the small gap that was made between the two of you “Would… would you like to grab a coffee or something sometime?”

His request caught you off guard, your gaping mouth that you had to shut quickly (and loudly) proof of that, but not in a bad way as you nervously cleared your throat 

“Y-yeah, that sounds really nice,” You smiled excitedly, almost giddy as rummaged in your pocket for a moment to pull out your phone “Give me your number and I’ll let you know when I’m next available.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, his eagerness once again making you giggle and his bright smile making your knees buckle, as he grabbed hold of your phone, waiting not a second to input his number along with a cute nickname before handing it back.

“Text me soon, okay?”

“O-okay!” You agreed, your smile almost mirroring his own as you gave him a final wave goodbye, tugging your dog gently off his legs one last time to resume your walk.

You both felt weightless as you walked back to your respective homes. You were unable to weaken the dumb, broad, smile that was glued on your face as giggled to yourself over your encounter with that handsome man, as you kept glancing down at the gloves he so kindly returned to you - whispering your thanks as you held them to your heart.

Bokuto’s legs felt like jelly as he sauntered back over to his building, fumbling with the intercom to try and gain access to the complex; his own dreamy and dumb expression never leaving his face as he almost incoherently asks to be let back in. Stumbling his way back up to his floor and through the threshold of his home, he thought of you and your cute smile; how he wants to see it again and soon. Excitedly he broke out of the trance you left him in to furiously type his text to you; the same one you receive as soon as you walked through the door

‘Please tell me I can meet you tomorrow!’

~

How interesting it was, how time could move so slowly and so quickly at the same time. How hours seem to fade into days, which fade into one another, and then all of a sudden a month will have passed and you never even realized it - like a blink of an eye.

It’s a combination of things, for time to move like this. For if it was just passing by quickly it would mean either life was so dull that things just blended together and time would then be wasted; or it could be the opposite, that all sorts of fun and excitement were happening at once that you could barely keep up. But if it is both, those days seem to drag on but weeks seem to end swiftly, then it’s a mixture of the two.

And really, that was the perfect explanation for it all.

During the day as you worked the hours seemed to drag on, but in the evenings whenever you had to walk your dog, or on the weekends, it was like time was doing everything it could to make the day anew again; to subjugate you to the long and drawn out hours of boredom work provided.

But whenever you weren’t at work, you found yourself crossing paths with your handsome new friend Bokuto. That was probably why time seemed to pass on by, it always seemed to move fast whenever someone was having fun. And you couldn’t lie that you were having the most fun you had in months while you were around that exuberant man, His positivity and brightness were contagious, and no matter how run down you felt, no matter how bad the day was, once you saw his smile it was like nothing bad happened at all.

Ever since you took the leap and replied to his enthusiastic text with one of your own stating a time to go out with you the next night to help you walk your dog, it has been a whirlwind of that bright fun.

Going to cafes to get coffee, trying out new restaurants that popped out of nowhere, trying out the hiking trails that you never knew existed, and exploring hidden corners of the city you had yet to explore. All while he held your hand tightly and dazzled you with his beaming smile every time you went out with him.

On top of it all, every weekday, after you finished work,  Bokuto would try his best to meet where it all began. To wait out in front of his apartment building in hopes to catch you, to then continue on walking with you for the remainder of your trip home; taking hold of your dog’s lead as he happily tucked your arm underneath his instead - his excuse was always  “gotta make sure you make it home safe” smiling down at you if you ever tried to complain.

Before you knew it a month had passed. A month filled with good morning texts, evening walks in the cool autumn air, and weekends filled with little dates. Your days consumed with the attentions and affections of a man you never thought you would meet, let alone be romanced by so energetically. It was all so sudden, almost overwhelming, but so welcomed all the same.

Though, with all the affection and time spent together, you couldn’t definitely say what you were; if you were his girlfriend or not. You couldn’t say there was nothing between you both, not with the small nervous gestures he gave you, like all those lingering kisses he would press to your forehead whenever he dropped you off. Never actually pressing his lips to yours, as if he was afraid of overstepping a boundary.

Due to this, you couldn’t claim to be official, that he was your boyfriend, that you were going steady. Which made butterflies form in your tummy when you asked him for a large favor; not sure if he would be okay with it all. After all, you hadn’t even kissed yet.

A work event was approaching, and it was mandatory that you go to it. Which meant you had to leave for an entire weekend. Normally, weekend trips were fine, as you could bring your furry companion with you. But you couldn’t bring your dog with you, the hotel your work arranged for you to stay at wouldn’t allow it. And you didn’t want to spend hundreds of dollars to send your dog to a service, or allow a stranger into your home to take care of them; who knows what they might look at or steal.

You decided to bite the bullet when the week of the event came up; figuring that the worst-case scenario was Bokuto would say no - but given how close you had gotten over the past month you had high hopes.

Besides, he was the perfect option. You would feel comfortable with him in your home, he had been over a few times before, and your dog adored him. And, he lived close by too, so if something were to happen or if he didn’t feel comfortable staying at your place for a few days it wouldn’t be the end of the world; he and your pet would just a few blocks.

You asked him, on a particularly warm Tuesday night for October, and he said yes without hesitation. You didn’t know why he agreed, perhaps it was in the bashful manner you asked, or maybe he could sense the quiet desperation in your tone. But, overall, it didn’t matter to you, just as long as your home and precious pet were safe.

But just as your life had started to slowly be consumed by him in all those little ways he had woven himself into your daily routine; Bokuto’s was completely taken away by you.

He couldn’t help it. Bokuto found himself thinking about you all the time, at almost every moment of the day. While grocery shopping he thought of what you might buy, and what dishes you might make yourself. At practice when he was supposed to be listening to his coach, or paying attention to the plays happening before him, all he could think about was having you sit on the bleachers cheering him on. Even late at night after you had sent your last text of the day, wishing him goodnight, he was thinking about you, almost obsessed by you, though he figured it was inevitable given how borderline obsessive he was before he even knew you; when he would just watch your figure pass by his window every day.

That was probably why he said yes to your request; not wanting to say no to your cute face or to possibly jeopardize his future chances of being with you. Besides, he loved your dog, and the chance to be in the place you called home, for longer than a moment to drop you off, was far too tempting.

“My goodness, again, thank you so much for doing this!” You gushed once more as you rushed to get the last of your things together, pushing Bokuto further into your home.

“No problem at all! Happy I could do this for you” He beamed, still holding onto the bag you had practically thrown at him when you opened the door to greet him.

“I know, I know…” You took a breath, finally taking the proper moment to actually acknowledge him “But still… figured I would let you know how appreciative I am; so, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He responded in kind, his smile was so gentle that it made your heart skip a beat.

“R-right! Um… I wrote a list of what Rufus needs. His feeding schedule, walk schedule, all that kind of stuff. It’s on the kitchen table, so take a look.” Your voice went faint, though Bokuto could still hear you, as you walked away from him into your bedroom “It, it also has the passwords to my streaming services, should you want to use them.” You let out a small huff, as you dragged your suitcase from your bedroom “You are also free to have whatever you like from the kitchen! Nothing is off-limits, so go nuts. And um… you know if you wanted to bring your girlfriend over to hang out that’s cool with me too!”

You took your bag from Bokuto’s hold, taking a moment to peer inside to double-check you had all you needed in there. As well as looking at your suitcase to take a second to recall all you put in; trying to see if you had forgotten anything; doing your best to try and play it cool over what you just said.

“Well, that won’t be necessary,” Bokuto mumbled, doing his best to look at you but not stare. a hand fiddling with one of his hoodie’s drawstrings “The girlfriend thing I mean… don’t have one so… yeah.”

His nervous chuckle made you follow suit making you pause your tireless item shuffling to glance up at him; your smile was small before growing wider alongside his and you shared a brief moment - on that you both couldn’t really put a name to, but knew it was a good one all the same.

“Alright, I think I’m good to go!” You bit your lip, taking hold of your suitcase; extending the handle for easier use.

“Safe travels, okay? Text me when you get there!” Bokuto asked, opening the door for you to avoid any further struggles

“Don’t worry, I will!” You leaned up, placing a quick peck on his lips before walking through your threshold  “Thanks, again! I’ll see you in a few days!”

Bokuto watched you leave, down the hall, and into the elevator with a dumbstruck look on his face; if you weren’t in such a hurry you might have laughed at that. But as soon as you were out of sight that shocked look turned into one of dumbstruck love as a goofy smile crossed his face as he closed your door with a goofy-sounding chuckle.

‘Our first kiss’ was all he could think about as he wandered over to your couch, plopping down on it as he absent-mindedly pet your dog as he relived the way your lips felt over and over again. Hoping that when you came back, he would be graced with another one.

The first night went without a hitch. Due to your late afternoon departure, all Bokuto had to do was put Rufus out for the last time, and then enjoy the night in. Ordering food and choosing a movie to play in the background as he absent-mindedly scrolled his phone - sending a good night text your way once you confirmed you made it to your hotel safely. And given that Iwazumi was so hard on him, and his team members, in training earlier that day, he didn’t think twice about hitting the hay once he got back from that final walk with your furry friend.

However, the next morning would prove to be his downfall.

Though it wasn’t like it was his fault really. It was just, sleeping in your bed, being surrounded by the smell of you - the whisper of floral from the shampoo that you use lingered on your pillows, the faint smell of your laundry detergent that comforted him as he snuggled deeper in your blanket, and the scent of your faded sweat the clung the deeper he sunk into your sheets -  all of it was so uniquely, perfectly, utterly you that his body acted without thinking.

And maybe it was because he was laying in your bed, surrounded by the same sheets that clung to your body in ways he could only imagine, could only dream about. That such an innocent act was something far more intimate than he, and more than likely yourself, thought it could be. It was something that got to him more than it should.

No matter how much he tossed and turned, tried to think of anything else, his body betrayed him. And as the sun’s rays hit his eyes, signaling a new day, his stiffened cock stood proud, barely contained by the fabric of his boxers, just as it did when he first crawled into your bed.

“A cold shower would do the trick,” Bokuto whispered to himself as he dragged his body into an upright position, keeping an eye on your dog to make sure he was still asleep. “Always works before a game….”

And it did. Well… whenever he was about to play a game, or away on tour and needed to get rid of his morning wood before meeting his teammates. This was proving to be a different case all entirely. And he was only a man.

A weak, weak, man too easily trumped by temptation.

He would apologize, and beg to whatever god that was above, for your forgiveness and understanding but he couldn’t help but stroke his cock to the thought of you. How your skin would look all lathered in bubbles from the body wash he was currently inhaling; never once thinking the smell of hibiscus would make his eyes roll to the back of his skull. Imagining how he would bend you over, pressing you against the cheap tile wall, and fuck you so hard that your neighbors could hear the sound of your moans over the water; how pretty your pussy would look after he came so deep inside, how his cum would slowly seep out and down your pretty legs before being washed away down the drain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Bokuto hissed, as his hipped jerked into his hand, his release overtaking him making a mess of his hand, chest, and your shower wall; silently, and shamefully watching it go down your drain - disappointed over the reality of it all.

The rest of the day went decently enough. Bokuto avoided your room and everything in it, even your bathroom for most of the day in fear of having to take another hour-long shower. Instead, he occupied his time by taking your dog out on a nearby, local, hiking trail; one that traversed close to and alongside a river. Your dog loved it, and Bokuto made sure to keep a mental note to take you out here soon before the weather got too cold and the river would freeze over.

He also spent his time, the majority of his evening, catching up on the latest TV drama Hinata was begging him to watch; keeping the younger man updated on which episode he was on, and taking small breaks to feed your dog or to take him on his needed walks for bathroom relief.

But Bokuto knew he couldn’t avoid it forever; that when night fell, he would crack once more. He knew he should have slept on the couch, to deal with the aches in his joints, the soreness in his muscles, and whatever back pain he would inevitably have by huddling and sleeping in such a still position on your too-small couch. But the allure of sleeping in your sheets - to be surrounded by the same comfort you allowed yourself to enjoy every night - was too enticing.

It was a sleepless night, once again.

Though this time it was not spent like the night before, where he was tossing and turning to try and settle down to get a proper night's rest. Bokuto knew that it would be pointless to try. Instead, fueled by the faded smell of your shampoo that lingered on your pillowcase, he took hold of your fluffiest pillow, and slotted it between his legs; against his weeping and aching cock. No longer able to help, or ignore the heat that coursed through his veins.

His whimpers, though muffled, echoed within your empty bedroom as the sound of your headboard softly hitting the wall behind accompanied the sinful symphony as his body crushed your favourite pillow; hips desperately trying to keep that wonderful friction it gave to get him over the edge. Bokuto thought about how you would look folded into a mating press as he pinned you in place with nothing but his weight; how sweet you would look with tears in your eyes as you babbled on about how much you loved his cock.

“Yeah, just like that…. fuck, you’re such a good girl….nngh!.... You like taking my cock, huh? You like how my fat cock stretches you out? Come on… come on say it, please?”

It went on all night long, and when the morning sun finally hit his tired eyes did Bokuto finally feel spent; finally felt like he got all his pent-up frustrations out of him. Though his body screamed at him to not move, to lay down and rest, he had to ignore it. Had to take your soiled bedding - pillows, sheets, and blankets - off your bed so they could be washed. If he had more energy he would wince in shame over how much cum he managed to spill out onto it all; but right now he couldn’t give a damn. It was more than worth it to him.

Bokuto blessed the gods above that you had a washer and dryer within your cute apartment; how thankful he was not to have to take them all the way down flights of stairs and possibly run into one of your neighbors. He quickly went to put a load on, knowing he had to take care of a few last things around the house, for your little dog, and place some new sheets on your bed to dissuade any suspicion before you got home.

And oh what a blessing your little laundry room was.

There, sat atop your dirty laundry within the hamper you kept so neatly tucked away, sat a pair of pretty pink lace panties. He knew you had worn them, knew that they were meant to be washed, knew you had not left them there to tease him but instead discarded them like anyone would with used clothing, and he knew he should have just walked away from them. But they were so pretty, Bokuto couldn’t help but grab them for a closer look.

Couldn’t help but enjoy the way the soft fabric felt against his calloused fingertips. Couldn’t help but bring them up to his face, couldn’t help the way his mouth watered from the musky smell that greeted him, and certainly couldn’t help what he was about to do.

He knew it was wrong; he only has a few hours before you came home for Christ's sake. But this whole weekend was a perfect example of how little control he had when it came to you. That despite how wrong it all was, how he was violating your privacy and taking advantage of this situation, he couldn’t quell his lust as he took another deep inhale of your scent that stayed on that flimsy piece of fabric; his loose athletic shorts slipping past his hips as his angry-red cock sprung free once again.

“Gotta be quick…. gotta be quick - fuck!” He kept muttering to himself as he furiously pumped his hand up and down the length of his cock; doing his best to finish quickly and move on to what he was supposed to be doing.

He thought of you on top of the washer; sitting like the good girl you were as he knelt before you and ate you out like his last meal - your moans and mewls shaking in rhythm to the vibrations of the machine below you. The whole image being brought to him in a clearer focus in his mind due to the constant inhale of your fragrance.

Bokuto came with an unexpected groan, finishing much faster than he anticipated; not realizing just how effective those pretty panties of yours were. He collapsed against your wall with a deep and satisfied sigh; doing his best to calm his heart and breathing down. He could hear his phone go off from the other room, the specific chime meant it was you - clearly texting him that you were almost home. Bokuto sighed one last time, knowing he was not in an even bigger hurry to clean things up; starting with the panties he had balled in his fist.

Maybe… maybe you won’t notice if they are gone….

or perhaps maybe you will

[justlemmeadoreyou]

4. heat of the kitchen (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here) | (part 3 here)

summary: the day of the gala, but something unexpected happens, leaving you a responsibility that could either make or break your career.

words: 5k

warnings: fluff, a hint of angst.

You had just started falling into a restless sleep when your phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, making you jump awake in surprise. Squinting your blurry eyes at the bright screen, you felt a prickle of worry when you saw the time - 4:17am. This couldn't be good news at this hour. 

Sure enough, it was Harry's number flashing on the caller ID. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you swiped to answer and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"[Y/N], hey..." Even through the tinny distortion of the phone line, you could hear the grimness and exhaustion in Harry's voice. "Look, I...there's been an emergency with my family back home. My mom is really sick and not doing well."

You sat up straight in bed now, any remaining grogginess from sleep instantly swept away by a crushing wave of dismay. You listened in silence as he explained in brief phrases about needing to get on the next available flight to go back to New York right away. He said he wasn't sure when he'd be able to return to Chicago.

"I just didn't have a chance to let you know about this earlier," Harry's low, raspy voice crackled with regret. "I've already spoken with Thomason to take over running things at the event today, but...I'm so sorry, [Y/N]. The timing of this could not possibly be worse."

"No no, please don't even worry about that right now," you interjected quickly, your mind already whirling with the huge implications of what he was saying. Today was the extremely important Martin gala event - without Harry there to oversee the execution of his highly complicated, avant-garde centrepiece dish, the whole thing could spectacularly fall apart in front of all the big-name food critics and chefs of Chicago.

And yet...none of that professional stuff mattered at all compared to the intensely personal crisis your mentor was going through right now. "Is everything...I mean, is your mom going to be okay?" you asked hesitantly, not wanting to pry too much but deeply concerned.

Harry let out a shaky sigh that made your chest clench with empathy for what he must be feeling. "I don't know yet. They're running some medical tests on her this morning to get more answers, but...it doesn't look good so far based on what they've told me."

There was a heavy pause before he added in a rough, strained voice, "Looks like I've got another big battle ahead of me here."  

Despite the gravity of the situation, you felt a pang of fondness at those terse words that sounded so quintessentially like Harry - tackling this heart-wrenching personal turmoil with the same determination and head-on approach he always brought to challenges in the kitchen.

"I'll be okay," Harry stated in a tone that made it clear he didn't want or expect any sympathy or reassurance from you about it. "Right now, all I need is for you to promise me that the gala event today is going to be a complete success no matter what else is happening. Can you handle being fully in charge of running the whole operation and making sure my vision for the centerpiece dish comes out perfectly?"

He didn't need to go into more detail - you knew full well the enormity of the responsibility he was asking you to take on here. Tremors of nerves joined the waves of sympathy and concern roiling through you at the weight of this task. But you didn't hesitate at all before answering.

"You have my word, Chef," you vowed solemnly. "I'll treat this dish and event with the same intense, laser-focused commitment you've been drilling into me from day one - and I absolutely won't let you down."  

This time, Harry's answering exhale held the faintest trace of pride and...something more you couldn't quite put your finger on. "I know you won't let me down. I'm gonna have to go take care of things now, but I'll call again later to check in on how preparations are going over there. In the meantime, just stay calm, stay focused, and execute everything exactly like we've practiced over and over again these past weeks."

"I will. And Harry--" you hesitated momentarily before plunging ahead. "I really hope...well, just please take care of yourself too, okay? Sending you all my best wishes for your mom to get through this."

There was a beat of surprised silence before he responded in a gruff but sincere voice, "Yeah...thanks, [Y/N]. I appreciate that."

With that, the call clicked off abruptly, leaving you alone amid the predawn stillness with nothing but the immense weight of the trust and responsibility Harry had placed on your shoulders.

This was by far the biggest professional challenge you'd ever faced in your culinary career. Not just having to pull off executing Harry's avant-garde, innovative, wildly complex dish to absolute perfection under the intense scrutiny of the biggest names and players in Chicago's food world - but doing so while your mentor battled a hugely serious personal crisis unfolding all the way across the country in New York. Just the thought of it made your stomach churn with anxious adrenaline and nerves.

Still...despite the daunting nature of this task, you couldn't help but feel a sense of opportunity arising as well. This was an unexpected and unprecedented chance for you to truly prove yourself at the highest possible level, to rise up and show you had the skills and mental toughness to handle the most intense culinary pressure situations. You'd worked too damn hard, invested too many long hours of sweat and failures in kitchens everywhere to let this monumental opportunity slip through your fingers.

A feeling of steely resolve settled over you as you climbed out of bed and began methodically getting ready to start your day. No matter what curveball life had thrown at Harry derailing his own ability to participate, your role and mission remained unchanged - you made a solemn vow to him, and you utterly refused to let him down when he was counting on you most in this dire moment. This gala would go off flawlessly, the vision and game plan he'd meticulously drilled into you executed with precise mastery down to every last detail. Abject failure was simply not an option today.

***

By the time the first pale streaks of dawn began filtering through your windows, you were fully dressed and shoving a high-protein bar into your mouth as fuel while heading out the door to the event venue. Despite the early hour, there was already a palpable buzz and energy of activity when you arrived, crews of staffers and organizers darting around in a highly choreographed frenzy as they put the very final touches and preparations in place.  

You spotted Thomason's towering, intimidating form immediately - the harsh sous chef resembled a military general marshaling the troops, barking out orders and keeping everything flowing in an orderly yet intense manner. Straightening your spine, you crossed over purposefully to greet him directly. Thomason's eyes flicked over you appraisingly before giving a short, sharp nod of acknowledgment. "Good, you're here. Let's get you situated and start running through all your station assignments."

Without any further preamble or wasted words, he turned sharply on his heel and strode off at a brisk pace, clearly expecting you to fall into step directly behind him with no delays. Suppressing a resigned sigh, you did just that, matching his stride as Thomason immediately launched into a rapid-fire rundown and delegation of every single responsibility that would fall under your purview for the entire day.

It was...honestly, a staggering amount of crucial tasks and oversight duties to absorb all at once this early in the morning, especially given the giant extenuating circumstance and crisis situation hanging overhead with Harry's absence. But Thomason pressed on in his typical brusque, no-nonsense manner.

Apparently Harry had already briefed the imposing, burly sous chef on the pertinent details of the personal situation he was dealing with, as evidenced by Thomason's uncharacteristic patience whenever you had to pause to fully digest certain instructions or ask for any clarification on assignments. But the gruff kitchen veteran otherwise made no comforting allowances, simply conveying the huge pile of duties you'd need to stay on top of from morning prep straight through to the evening's high-stakes dinner service.

By the time he finally finished laying out the overwhelming laundry list of tasks you were accountable for, a tenuous sense of control had settled over your earlier panic and worries. You could do this. Logistically speaking, it would be the most daunting and high-pressure culinary challenge you'd ever faced by far - but thanks to all the intense training and preparation Harry had put you through, you genuinely felt as ready as you could possibly be. All that remained now was keeping your head down and executing flawlessly with the same pinpoint focus and work ethic he'd instilled in you through those grueling practice runs.

With a grim nod of determination, you turned and started overseeing your assigned kitchen crew in setting up the intricate series of mise en place stations that would be required for pulling off Harry's avant-garde, wildly complex centerpiece dish. All around you, the buzz of frantic activity swelled as area after area of the massive venue was brought online in final preparation for the rapidly approaching arrival times of guests and participants.  

Though you kept waiting for the spike of nerves and adrenaline to hit, surprisingly, a strange sense of calm numbness had instead descended over you - the kind that often surfaced in the middle of an intense, all-hands-on-deck dinner rush back at the restaurant. In these do-or-die, make-it-or-break-it kinds of situations, there simply was no spare mental bandwidth available for anything beyond the critical task directly in front of you in that very moment. Distracting thoughts and nerves got shunted aside as survival instincts took over.

And just like that, you lost yourself in the soothing, almost meditative rhythm of prep work, falling into that laser-focused state of dicing, slicing, arranging each individual ingredient component with painstaking, meticulous care according to the detailed specifications Harry had drilled into you over and over. At one point, you absently accepted a bottled water from one of your line cooks with a murmured thanks, but otherwise operated on auto-pilot.  

You weren't entirely sure how much time had elapsed before Thomason's gruff bark of "Ten minutes!" roused you from your intense, trance-like focus. All around, your crew instantly kicked into an even higher gear, ferrying the completed mise en place components to the designated plating stations in an efficient flurry of motion. You barely registered Thomason sidling up next to you with an evaluating look on his imposing features.

"You did decent prep work so far, kid," he acknowledged in a tone of voice that was only marginally less dismissive than his usual demeanor. "Now let's see if you can actually plate this bastard of a complicated dish without totally screwing the pooch."

With that uniquely Thomason-style pep talk, he gave your shoulder a clap and then strode off to take his place at the all-important expediting position for the evening's service, leaving you warmed by the backhanded compliment. Coming from the notoriously harsh and miserly-with-praise Thomason, those words were basically the equivalent of an ecstatic rave.

Any boost of confidence was welcome at this point, as the first wave of elite guests began trickling into the dining area right on schedule. You could feel the atmosphere in the room shifting, charging with buzzing energy and anticipation as these influential culinary figures saw the artfully designed space, flipped through the rundown of tonight's prix fixe menu, and speculated about what boundary-pushing creation Harry had surely concocted for his centrepiece auction dish.  

Your own adrenaline kicked into high gear as you took your place at the head plating station, flanked by your hand-picked crew who would assist in the extremely intricate assemble of all the individual components coming together. A hush fell over the kitchen as you exchanged looks with your team, giving a final nod of readiness. 

"First courses..." came the terse callout from the expo line. And with that, you immediately snapped into focus, hands moving with the precision drilled into them through countless practice runs as you began plating the initial courses.

From there, the entire high-stakes evening blurred into a cyclone of intense concentration and rapid-fire execution, broken only by the occasional smattering of polite applause from the dining room as each new course made its debut to apparent delight. But you remained steadfastly disengaged from all of that, shutting it out entirely as you moved with economical grace from one fastidiously assembled plate to the next in a state of total flow.

You were aware on some level of Thomason periodically prowling the line, sharp eyes scrutinizing every last component with the intensity of a decorated drill sergeant. But his presence was almost soothing in a way, a low-key affirmation that you and your crew were hitting every lofty mark thus far.

Finally, after what felt like both a grueling endurance marathon and the naturally seamless completion of a singular, continuous motion...it was time. All the other courses had been executed flawlessly, clearing the way for the pièce de résistance - Harry's avant-garde centerpiece dish that would cap off the evening. You took a deep, steadying breath as the first calls came in from the expo line.

"Fire one centerpiece!"

Your hands moved with the precision of a surgeon, each practiced motion flowing seamlessly into the next as you began assembling the first plate of the showstopper course. Around you, your crew worked in the same laser-focused unison, handling each individual component with utmost care and attention to detail.  

Despite the mounting pressure with every new order fire, that strange sense of calm numbness persisted. There was no mental bandwidth to spare on anything extraneous - your entire world had contracted to these series of sequential tasks laid out before you, each one flowing naturally into the next like a continuous stream.

Plating tweezers arranged the final delicate pour of herb-infused olive oil spheres with the same singular focus as you squeezed the pipette to apply the perfectly calibrated dot of acidic reduction. Not a single movement was wasted, not a component out of place as you slid the finished avant-garde masterpiece across to the expo line for final approval before heading out to the dining room.

"Looked good from here, kid," Thomason's gruff voice sounded in your ear amidst the orchestrated chaos, startling you slightly. You blinked, barely registering the stocky sous chef's towering presence overseeing your shoulder before turning your attention immediately back to the next set of hands firing.

On and on it went in that same relentless yet steady cadence, each nouveau plate a pristine reflection of the focus, intensity, and cumulative skill that had been honed into you over months of Harry's rigorous training. Sweat beaded along your hairline, apron dampening as you moved with increasing speed and efficiency under the mounting pressure of continuous fires.  

You were only vaguely aware of the soft crashing waves of polite applause rolling in from the nearby dining room each time a new creation hit the tables. Your ears were trained to more important sounds - the sharp callouts from expo, the curt exchanges between yourself and your crew attempting to maintain the incredible pace.

At one point, you registered Thomason's heavy tread beside you once more, his grizzled voice pitched low to be heard over the controlled pandemonium. "Pretty damn flawless so far, I'll give you that. But don't let your foot off the gas now, we still got a ways to go yet."

A simple grunt of acknowledgment was all you could spare in response as you plated two more centerpiece dishes in rapid succession, sliding them across for inspection. Thomason made a noise of begrudging approval before turning away, freeing you to tunnel-vision once more.  

Swaying slightly on your feet from the physical toll and intense focus, you blinked away the spotties at the edge of your vision. There was simply no other choice - failure was not an option, not after everything you and Harry had invested into this critical moment. 

How much time had elapsed, you couldn't say. All you knew was the continuous cycle of order fires, the increasingly efficient rhythm of your movements and those of your crew. The end goal of seeing this groundbreaking creation delivered to the last diner with the same polish as the first lone plate.

It was only when the final callout came over the line that reality slowly bled back in around the edges. "Last one, centerpiece! Fire for the panel..."  

The clatter of your toolkit was shockingly loud in the relative stillness as you began assembling that climactic plate with even more painstaking care than before. Every component was a masterstroke, each paso doble between you and your crew unfolding in step.

You barely registered Thomason's presence hovering nearby, posture radiating tension and scrutiny, as you slid the final centerpiece across for his inspection. A short eternity seemed to pass as the steely-eyed veteran examined the plate with unsparing intensity from all angles.  

At last, he gave a single deferential nod before calling out the fire to the dining room. "Chef's centerpiece...walking!"

A rousing swell of applause rolled back from beyond the partition as you straightened up, only now allowing the descending sense of accomplishment to wash over you fully. It was done - Harry's groundbreaking, avant-garde vision had been executed to utter perfection.

The surrounding kitchen area seemed to slowly reanimate as the rest of the corps d'équipe emerged from their own hypnotrance–states, exchanging tired grins and backslaps of congratulations. For his part, Thomason wore an expression that bordered on...approving?You could never tell.

"You pulled it off, kid," he rumbled in that trademark gravelly baritone. The stocky chef's clap on your shoulder managed to convey impressed respect more clearly than any flowery praise. "Flawless service from top to bottom. I'll be sure to pass that along to Chef Patino when I touch base."

Your face must have reflected the gratified shock you felt at the gruff compliment, as Thomason's mouth twisted wryly before adding, "Don't look so damn stunned. You did good work holding it all together out there tonight. Real good work."

With that, he gave your shoulder one final squeeze before turning to address the rest of the crew and applauds rippled through the kitchen area. But you barely heard any of it over the dull roar in your ears - the mixture of bone-deep exhaustion and sheer disbelief at what you'd all just managed to pull off against seemingly insurmountable odds.

Gradually, the bustle of post-service breakdown routines fired up around you. But you remained still in the eye of that storm for several long moments, simply allowing the profound weight of your accomplishment tonight to sink in fully.  

Despite the challenges, the unexpected crises that had threatened to derail everything...your tenacity and the depth of your training had ultimately prevailed. Harry's faith in you had been rewarded with an unmitigated triumph.

The realization brought a surge of fierce pride, tempered only by the hope that your mentor had managed to find some shred of comfort amidst his own turmoil tonight. You knew Harry well enough to be certain he would be dissecting every component, evaluating each nuance of the dish's execution with his trademark intensity even from afar.

And suddenly, you very much needed to hear his voice - to fill him in on all the details, reassure him that you'd kept your word right down to crossing every final T. To...well, to simply share in this significant victory with the man whose driving ambition and belief had made it all possible.

As if summoned by sheer force of will, your phone began buzzing from your back pocket with a familiar caller ID flashing. Stepping aside from the lingering chaos, you swiped to accept the call with your heart lodged squarely in your throat.

"Harry? It's me..."

The voice on the other end sounded tinny and wrung-out, yet still utterly suffused with that unmistakable gravel-rough timbre. "How'd it go, kiddo?"

Despite the bone-weary fatigue dragging at your every muscle, you felt a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth as you took in the sight of your crew unabashedly celebrating their collective win. "See for yourself."

With a few quick taps, you switched the call over to FaceTime, angling the camera to capture the wild scene surrounding you. Raucous cheers and whoops of victory filled the feed as Harry got an eyeful of his triumphant kitchen corps living it up.

For a long moment, he was silent on the other end, drinking in the rowdy scene. Then, his low chuckle finally filtered through, slightly watery but brimming with unmistakable pride.

"That's my crew," Harry rasped in a voice gone thick. "Well done, team. Well done."

You grinned fiercely at the screen, willing him to feel every ounce of your conviction as you responded. "We did you proud, Chef. Start to finish."

And just like that, the shaky exhale he released said everything his gruff words couldn't. For all his outward bravado and grit, your mentor's steadfast belief had been vindicated tonight - and his faith in you rewarded beyond even his own expectations.

For the first time in weeks, that shaky tension seemed to finally loosen its grip on both of you. Though the road ahead might still be fraught, this evening's triumph had forged an unbreakable bond of shared understanding and trust.

The entire grueling process of preparing for and executing the ambitious centerpiece dish had pushed both your skills, stamina and mental toughness to their limits. But instead of fracturing under such tremendous shared pressure, your mentor-mentee dynamic had been distilled down to its essential core - that of two committed culinary artists striving relentlessly towards the same creative vision, and ultimately emerging unified in the wake of that lofty achievement.

In that moment, any unresolved tensions or lingering frissons of attraction between you were rendered almost quaint, overwhelmed by the profound sense of creative synergy and hard-won victory. Those undercurrents would inevitably resurface later once the high had faded. But for now, you could simply bask in the warm glow of knowing you'd risen to every challenge thrown your way and come out on top.

Harry must have sensed the shift in your demeanor, the way your posture had relaxed slightly without sacrificing any of that fierce determination. His gruff chuckle sounded again through the phone's speaker, drawing your attention back to his careworn but glowing expression.  

"Listen, pet..." he began in that trademark rasp, once again hitting you with the nickname that made your heart skip a beat,. "I gotta go take care of some stuff on this end. But we're gonna crack open a couple bottles when I'm back, you and me. We've earned it after pulling off a goddamn miracle like this one."

The very thought of the two of you sharing drinks and cutting loose for once, without the weight of impending culinary obligations hanging overhead, struck you as incredibly appealing after tonight's intensity. A warm smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you gave an emphatic nod.

"You know I'm gonna hold you to that, Chef. I'm thinking top-shelf stuff too, none of that bottom-rung swill."

Harry threw back his head with another peal of laughter. "You got it, you earned it. Gimme a couple days to get things sorted and I'll take you somewhere swanky to celebrate, on me. My way of saying thanks for proving me right about you, Y/n."

Before you could respond, Harry's gaze grew pensive, amusement fading slightly as he searched your expression with uncharacteristic earnestness. "And I mean it, you know. Not just about the drinks, but...well, you really came through in the clutch tonight. I knew you had the skills to pull it off, but seeing you actually do it against those crazy odds? You exceeded every expectation. I couldn't be prouder if you were my own flesh and blood."

You felt your cheeks warming at the uncommon depth of sincerity in his gravelly voice. Though Harry had never been one for emotional vulnerability, in this moment you could see the profound gratitude shining through loud and clear.  

"That really means a lot coming from you, Harry," you managed in a slightly hushed tone, momentarily rendered speechless by the unexpected warmth radiating from him. "You know I'd never want to let you down, especially when you were counting on me most."

The tender moment stretched out in weighted silence, intimate currents flowing back and forth even through the crackle of the video feed. Until eventually, Harry seemed to resurface from that unguarded well of sincerity, giving a slightly blustery clearing of his throat.

"Well anyway, you did the heavy lifting tonight," he rallied in his typical all-business timbre, the hoarse bravado back in full force. "I'll leave you and the crew to enjoy your big victory bash. Just try not to get too out of hand with the partying."

He started to shift away from the camera, clearly preparing to disengage, when his hazel-eyed gaze flicked back to pin you with an unreadable look. A ghost of a smirk played around the edges of his mouth as he seemed to drink you in through the video feed.

"Oh, and one more thing, darlin'..." 

You felt your breath catch at the rich, velvety timbre Harry imbued that endearment with - a departure from the casual, teasing way he usually deployed such pet names. This particular iteration seemed to caress something deeper, more weighted between you.

"I'm real proud of how you rose above and killed it tonight," he murmured in that same honeyed rasp that raised goosebumps along your skin. His gaze raked over you with unmistakable heat and intent. "Showed me that laser-focused mental strength and fortitude I always suspected was in there."

Harry shook his tousled head slowly, lips still curved in that secretive half-smile. "Gotta admit, I clearly underestimated you in the past, darlin'. Won't be making that mistake again."

The suggestive timbre in which he issued that statement was utterly at odds with the mentor-protegee context you'd been operating in mere moments ago. You felt your breath hitch as a warmth bloomed across your cheeks, suddenly hyper-aware that you were still surrounded by your raucous crew celebrating nearby.

Surely you were reading far too much into Harry's words and tone...except his eyes were gleaming with a combination of heat and challenge as they roamed over your features in a way that made you feel stripped bare. As if he knew full well the dizzying, electrifying effect he could have on you - even through a mere video call - and was shamelessly exercising that power.

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you could possibly say to that molten statement you had no idea. Thankfully, Harry seemed to recognize he was quickly veering into the old inappropriate territory and reigned himself in with a rough throat-clearing.

"Anyway, go have fun with the crew and I'll holler at you in a couple days once I get things sorted out on this end," he concluded, all traces of that heated bravado tucked away once more behind his typical gruff exterior. "You've more than earned it, darlin'."

Another searing look accompanied the purring emphasis he gave that endearment before Harry flashed you a stunningly lopsided grin - then the video feed clicked off, leaving you slightly dazed and flustered in its wake.

A long moment passed where you simply stared at the blank screen, cheeks still burning as your mind raced over the cadence of that parting exchange. From the heartfelt gratitude and rare showering of praise...to that inexplicably molten aside loaded with suggestion, it had all left you feeling deliciously unmoored and off-kilter. 

You remained in that uncertain headspace for a while longer, the buzz of your crew's raucous celebration providing a soundtrack as the hours ticked by. Though you made a concerted effort to remain present, to revel in this hard-won moment of glory alongside your teammates, part of your consciousness couldn't help but keep circling back to that searing parting remark from Harry.

You kept thinking about the way he spoke, wondering if there was a hidden meaning behind his words.  Suddenly, your long-suppressed feelings for the charismatic chef surged with volcanic intensity, consuming every rational thought until only one truth remained. 

You decided you were done hiding your desire for Harry– done keeping that ravenous wanting locked away in the name of professionalism.The next time you saw your mentor, you promised yourself you would be completely honest. No more beating around the bush. Only complete, blazing honesty.

You would openly admit the burning attraction you'd felt since first meeting his intense gaze months ago. You would confront the growing tension from all his suggestive comments.

No more hiding behind being professional. You would put everything out in the open, once and for all. Either Harry felt the same fiery passion...or he didn't, and you could finally move on. 

Once and for all.

But the need to finally uncover the truth burned within you, even if it meant risking everything and leaving your heart in ashes - because the constant wondering and uncertainty had become a suffocating torment you could no longer endure. Making that decision lifted a weight off your shoulders momentarily, but you steeled yourself knowing the real challenge still lay ahead, a daunting path that could either lead you to euphoric fulfilment or utter devastation.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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