#like the degree to which I talk about someone or how close I sit next to someone has been enough for ppl to project labels onto that dynamic

[trislosherfan25]

So sick and tired of other peoples notions about what constitutes a platonic or romantic relationship dictating the level of closeness I can have with other people. Not even talking about physical closeness… like even just the degree to which I hang out with someone, or how I behave around them has been enough for people around me to insist I’m “acting like a couple” with someone and just push that narrative on me absolutely constantly despite me being in a pretty long term relationship with someone else. It’s absolutely infuriating because having that narrative projected onto me and thus having to avoid it and reject it constantly puts up so many barriers to my ability to form close connections with people and strong friendships. I just want to be able to connect with people in the way that feels natural and comfortable for me without being constantly questioned about my intentions or having to question my own intentions because of what other people are projecting onto me. I know what is platonic and what is romantic to me, even when to other people that line looks blurry. I wish people would just listen to me and let me be.

[inuyashaluver]

can you write a jessie x hockey!r, where r gets into a fight during one of her games and jessie is watching from the stands with some of the chelsea players? thx

cheeky - jessie fleming

jessie fleming x reader

description: in which your girlfriend brings her friends to her cheeky girlfriend’s game

warnings: jessie still plays for chelsea!! let’s pretend ucla offers women’s hockey 🫠 swearing, mentions of a fight, suggestive

a/n: you guys don’t understand how much this request has infiltrated my tiny brain, thank you you so so much, my love, enjoyyyyy

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, jessie were quite literally some of the nicest people alive. every time someone was around the two of you for either a short or long time, they came out feeling lighter, happier and all round just more positive.

you and jessie just radiated love, a special bond between the two of you that was just undeniably beautiful.

—

you and jessie met at a college party years ago. you both went to ucla yet never crossed paths until this party. you weren’t really a party goer and neither was jessie, you both found refuge in the backyard of the house you were at.

both of your friend groups had unknowingly ditched you and you both wanted some air, away from all the drunk frat boys and sorority girls.

“sorry, do you mind if i sit here?” you ask the brunette where she sat on a small bench. her head snapped up from her phone at hearing a familiar accent. canadian.

“oh, yeah, go ahead!” jessie stutters, scooching over a little and patting the spot next to her. you smile at her gratefully, sitting down with an exaggerated huff.

jessie lets out a laugh when you sat, both of you looking at each other with bright smiles. you both thought the other was breathtakingly gorgeous, feeling like the party was a little worth it at this point.

“you sick of seeing people basically fucking each other everywhere too?” you ask her with a shake of your head, your eyes falling on a couple making out in a way that should definitely be behind a closed door.

jessie chuckles, looking down at the cup in her hand and nodding while taking a sip of it. “that and my friends ditched me” she rolls her eyes, you nudge her shoulder with yours, “mine too, don’t worry” you grin, making her return one shyly.

“i’m (y/n) by the way” jessie smiles, repeating the name in her head that she would surely never forget.

“jessie” you smile at her, pink cheeks a little evident on the both of you when you made eye contact again.

“sorry if this is weird but are you from canada?” jessie asks nervously, your eyes widen comically, your face brightening at the girl's question.

you didn’t really have many friends from back home who came to the states for college. sure there was a bunch of canadian girls at college but none of them were this pretty. or this easy to talk to.

“i am! don’t tell me you are too?” you question, jessie smiled at your excitement, her heart beating quickly at your glistening eyes. she nods, making you start rambling with where she was from.

you both continued to chat and it was scary how much you had in common.

the conversation was full of laughter, shared jokes and most definitely a shared attraction. “so, jessie, what do you do besides being an environmental warrior?” you say cheekily, the girl scoffs, slapping your thigh gently and rolling her eyes,

“i play soccer” she mocks, you give her an impressed smile as she explained how good she really was, “mhm, i should come and watch you sometime, superstar?” you flirt, giving her a charming smile that had butterflies swarming in her stomach.

you’d both gone far from friendly conversation, the flirting taking over after about 2 hours of you familiarising yourself with each other.

“yeah, maybe you should, and you? miss number solver?” she teases back, referring to you doing an accounting degree.

“i play hockey” you move a little so you could face her better and she does the same, although, her face has a shit eating grin on it.

“what’s so funny?” you narrow your eyes at her, “you’re so canadian” she laughs, you shake your head as she throws her head back in laughter, clearly enjoying how you’re not even defending yourself.

she encourages you to talk about your sport and to say she fell in love with you there was an understatement. you spoke with so much passion she really loved to see and hear it.

you also admit you fell in love with her when she talked about her sport, but even more with how intently she was listening to you, soaking in every word you said and clarifying things she didn’t understand.

you both felt something bubbling under the surface as you talked, so much so, when the party started to filter out, she asked if you wanted to get some ice cream and who were you to decline?

the teasing and the flirting throughout the whole night was so unbearable, you asked her out on a date without a second thought, smiling brightly when she accepted without any hesitation.

you both began to date after a few months, becoming one of the ‘it couples’ around campus when everyone could truly tell how much you were in love with each other.

you went to each other’s games with bright, adoring smiles, wearing each other’s jerseys with pride.

you had study dates together, most of the time getting distracted but neither part was complaining.

you were there for each other throughout all the ups and downs, talking and listening to one another for hours and somehow feeling not enough when you were with each other every second of the day.

you’d both established a career before you even graduated college, star athletes in the making in your respected sports.

you’d do anything for each other, so much so you moved with her to england when she signed her contract to chelsea.

—

while jessie played for chelsea, you still continued to play hockey in england also. it was hard being away from home but jessie made it all better.

your continual support for each other offering a sense of security that nothing else could. it also helped that you both represented canada nationally, often getting the opportunity to go home together.

—

the chelsea girls knew you too well, you came to every single game without fail with a bright grin on your face in the ‘fleming’ jersey that was almost worn as much as your own.

“your wife’s here” niamh teases as she warmed up with jessie before a match, the two of you weren’t married, or engaged even, not yet at least but this didn’t stop niamh from wishing you were, knowing how much her best friend adored you.

“where?” jessie grins, stopping all movement and frantically looking for you, niamh directs her head to where you were sitting in the friends and family section and her heart swelled with pride.

you wave at her brightly and she returns it instantly, her face growing warm at the smile you sent her, snapped out of her trance at niamh’s laugh. “such a sap” she smiles, jessie just gives her shoulder a little shove, continuing to warm up.

when the match was over after an easy win, jessie bounded over to you without a second to waste. “hi, baby” you smile as she walked into your arms, the barrier making it a little difficult but you both didn’t care.

“hi, gorgeous” jessie says breathlessly, pulling you into a sweet kiss with her hand on your cheek. you smile against her, your own hand on the side of her neck, your thumb brushing against her skin gently.

“my superstar” you say as you pull away, brushing away some stray hairs from her face before pulling her into a tight hug.

“gotta impress my wag, baby” she says cheekily, kissing your cheek repeatedly to make you giggle, working successfully like it did every time.

“i’m definitely impressed, baby canada” you smile, pressing another quick kiss to her lips as you pulled away slightly.

her hands make her way to your waist, rubbing up and down gently as you chatted, only lasting for a couple of seconds before you ushered her to interact with the fans.

“i’ll see you at home, beautiful” she winks, pecking your lips before running away, shouting a quick “i love you” over her shoulder that you quickly returned before leaving to drive home.

—

you had an upcoming game, an important one at that. you’d been nervous about it all week, jessie frequently having to calm you down so you could breathe. you were the captain, both for this team and the canada team so a lot of pressure fell on your shoulders.

the only reassurance you had was knowing jessie would be there, even inviting some of her teammates to come and watch you since they had the day off.

jessie wasn’t one to miss an opportunity where she got to ogle her talented girlfriend and show you off at the same time so she was extremely excited.

the morning of, let’s just say it was extremely difficult to get you out of the house.

“what if i fuck up?” you whine, turning from the door and walking back to jessie who was watching you from the doorway. “you won’t” she assures, pinching your cheek softly before turning you around and giving you a soft push to the door.

you turn back around, “what if something goes wrong?” you say nervously, “baby, you’ll be fine, we can deal with it” jessie chuckles, you throw your head back in annoyance.

the people who only knew you from hockey would be shocked to know you did this before every game. they’d be shocked to know how soft you were when it came to your girlfriend.

“i don’t want to go” you groan, jessie draws you in by your waist, her arms wrapped around them securely, “baby, you’ll be amazing, like always” jessie says earnestly, her brown eyes looking directly into yours so you knew she wasn’t lying.

“but you don’t know that” you pout, jessie quickly smiling before pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“i’m your girlfriend, i know everything” she says cheekily, pecking your lips a couple of times and managing to pull a small smile out of you.

“you go do your best, that’s all i want from you” she smiles, her hands now cradling your face as your arms wrap around her. “okay” you breathe out, determined.

smiling before pulling her into a breathless kiss that made both of you feel dizzy, sharing a quick i love you before she had to physically push you out of the house, knowing you’d convince her to stay.

—

jessie made her way to the arena in your jersey, your number written neatly tiny on her cheek. she was accompanied by niamh, zećira, aggie and hannah.

to say jessie got teased the entire time was an understatement but she didn’t care, she had no shame with the amount of love she had for you.

when you skated out on the ice with the ‘C’ over your heart, you had no ounce of nervousness at all. a complete contrast from the morning.

the truth is, on the ice, you were ruthless, completely contradicting how you were off the ice.

you carried yourself with complete confidence, expecting nothing but the best. you were a little rough but one of the best players and everyone knew it. you didn’t take any bullshit.

you were strategic, smart and calculated. you knew what you were doing and you were the captain both in this league and nationally for a reason. a team leader without fail. a role model, a borderline legend.

jessie and her friends cheered loudly for you when your name was announced on the loudspeaker. jessie watched as you waved around the arena before locking back in, skating around the ice in preparation for the game.

jessie was on the edge of her seat the entire time watching you, scoring 2 points in a short amount of time. you were playing exceptionally well, jessie’s heart swelled with pride but she was extremely nervous how this one player kept trying to rile you up.

she knew you didn’t take any disrespect and knew this girl was about to get her ass handed to her.

the girl was being overly physical with you and you would counter it every time. she was the other captain and knew she’d get thrown into the box if she tried anything too much. her behaviour was surprising.

but the girl continued, having the nerve to be near you every time with something to say every two seconds.

you’d ignore it, having dealt with people more annoying than this but it flipped when she started talking about jessie. your jessie.

she started with the insults about you until she said, “is your girlfriend some sort of puck bunny?” you fucking lost it.

you dropped your stick and both of you break out into a heated fight. fists flying before you grabbed her by her shirt, slamming her into the glass and spitting out words that we’re definitely not family friendly. jessie’s eyes were so wide in shock, never really seeing you in a fight like this before.

“talk about my girlfriend like that again and i’ll shove the puck down your fucking throat” you exclaim, getting pulled back by the referee and getting told to go to the penalty box.

you send a glare to the girl and she falters almost instantly before you skated to the box. you sat down with a huff, arms crossed over your chest as you watched your team dominate the other.

jessie shook her head while she looked at you, niamh and zećira cheering you on throughout the fight and even more now that you were in the box.

when your ten minutes was up, you played the rest of the game with passion, finishing with an easy and well deserved win. jessie ran down to where the change rooms were, her teammates waiting nearby.

jessie watched as you skated off the ice, catching your breath as you quickened your pace to jessie. her face was etched with worry as you approached, watching as you took off your helmet hastily and took out your mouth guard.

“hey, baby” you say brightly, bounding over and wrapping jessie up in a hug, your face instantly tucked into the crook of her neck, your cold nose brushing against her warm skin.

“for someone that just beat the shit out of someone, you’re very happy” she says amusingly, her arms wrapping around you without hesitation.

“she deserved it, trust me on that” and jessie did. you pull away from her at arms length, a cheesy smile plastered on your face as you looked at her.

“are you okay?” she asked, her voice clearly laced with worry, you nodded, kissing jessie’s cheek tenderly as you drew her a little closer.

“i’m fine, love, especially since my biggest fan is here” you grin, “you should see the other guy” you laugh as jessie slaps your shoulder lightly, “cheeky” she chuckles, pulling you into another tight hug in absolute relief you were okay.

you could tell she was on edge because of the circumstances, the hug telling you everything you needed to know. you hugged her tightly, letting her find solace in you and honestly calming you both down.

you wave over at her teammates when she pulls away and chat with them excitedly. you held onto jessie’s hand the entire time you all chatted, thanking them for coming and watching.

“what does that say on your stick?” niamh questions, you smile, moving your hand to show that you’d written jessie’s name with a little heart next to it on your tape, a tradition for you ever since you’d started dating.

“good luck charm” you grin, both of you getting teased for your bright pink cheeks. you say goodbye to them before they leave, turning back to jessie with a sweet smile. this is the side of you she knew the best. an absolute softie.

before you get changed, you draw jessie into another kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against her when she whined against your mouth.

you give her an amused expression, seeming as though she was a little riled up about the whole situation. “shut up” she groans, pushing you away by your chest slightly but you came right back, pressing a sweet peck to her lips,

“i didn’t say anything” you mumble against her, squeezing her hips gently before you ran to the change room, wanting to get back home as quick as possible.

let’s just say violence is never the answer but is excusable only for the way your girlfriend reacted to you when you both stepped through the door of your shared apartment.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by niamhcharles17 and 44,232 others

_jessflem: you wouldn’t know she beat someone up 10 minutes before this but here we are

view all comments

yourname: so worth it

↳ _jessflem: really was actually

niamhcharles17: your girlfriend’s got a crazy fist on her but is SUCH a softie

↳ yourname: watch it niamhy

↳ _jessflem: biggest softie ever

↳ yourname: you’re supposed to defend me

↳ _jessflem: i love you?

↳ yourname: yeah. whatever. i love you too.

[cinnamonest]

Head empty no thoughts just daydreaming about incel scara with groupmate/project member!reader

Imagine them sitting together in a library. They need to be close to share one screen and go over everything while one or the other does some explaining. And scara is just DISGUSTED by her very clearly, very obviously whorish behavior aka her casually jutting her chest, pouting/biting her lips, getting close to him when she needs to lean, when she bends over away from or next to him, he can see her cleavage if he tries hard enough, or see her skirt ride or her lower back getting exposed and if he moves juuuuust a bit closer he can touch her boobs-

Just outright disgraceful and shameless behavior typical of the female 😤 and no, that's not his boner wdym. And reader is just earnestly trying to understand what he's trying to say because he seems so indifferent and almost looks as if dislikes her.

Ahhh it must be because he's annoyed, this isn't her subject after all. In which case, ALTERNATIVELY- consider CS major scara with darling in some non-STEM field passively calling her dumb and insulting her intelligence whenever they come to "study" because: what? She doesn't know how to install Windows? Ha

Only reason she has a decent gpa is because you don't actually need brains or talent for those art "subjects" and they are more suited to females anyway because it's not like they contribute much to society or are very intelligent, unlike him-

I remember my university had these little rooms in their library that were basically tiny study rooms with a couch and chairs, but like no windows, and were advertised as two-way soundproof to help you study and let me tell you. Y’all. People had sex in those. A lot. It happened a lot.

But the thing is they had no tables with desk-type chairs, only like coffee tables and lounge chairs, so if you wanted to work with someone else on something you kinda had to use the sofa which could be very awkward. Anyway

Oh he's absolutely a STEM snob that looks down on humanities majors. They’re for people with no real skills, who lack the ability to do more important stuff… or God forbid, you're a fine arts major of some kind. Very typical girl stuff, they waste money on useless degrees because they insist on having equally useless jobs. You’re probably going to be a future HR person, getting random guys fired for harmless comments and such.

So he always talks to you in such a condescending way, as if the things he’s explaining are so very obvious or simple that it’s a chore to explain it to you. You need to be aware of how intellectually inferior you are.

Also he’s one of those boys for whom “disgusted” is really just turned on, he lacks the ability to distinguish it — like it’s arousing, but it’s irritating that it’s arousing because he can’t do anything about it, so he identifies that feeling as disgust when it’s really just unbearable levels of sexual frustration compounded with bitterness. Ugh.

And as for you, it has to be intentional. You know what you're doing. It's on purpose. You just think it's funny or amusing to torment someone who can't do anything about it. In a fair world, you'd pay for your actions somehow.

And maybe you're even getting good grades in exchange for "favors." That makes sense, it's the only way that explains how you remain enrolled really. Maybe you'll eventually do the same for him, try to get him to do work for you in exchange for something. Not that that would work, he would never ever enable you like that, and definitely has the self-control necessary to reject you.

There’s something so wrong with how things are, that this situation can even arise, that you’re allowed to waste so much money and time on your dumb degree when you have better uses. He’ll probably go home and make some long vent post to some niche corner of the internet about the woes of having to tolerate this situation. Tragic.

[mousy-nona]

I feel like a fic potentially focusing on Lucifer’s depression would be really interesting! That is, like.. Alastor can’t let the hotel be seen with a king (who’s a sniffling whiny bitch). Its sadly more beneficial to have him revered in this particular instance, so he’s determined to “fix” it? Idk how in character that prompt is, but I figured sending it to you wouldn’t hurt!!

TW: heavy stuff halfway through -- depression; angst.

There were some days Lucifer couldn’t get out of bed.

There was nothing particularly wrong with him. Which made it all the more embarrassing, which made it harder to explain, which made it easier to stay in bed and hide from the world, and so on and so forth…

Get up, the Stern Lucifer in his head said, sternly. You have the Assembly today. What’ll the Sins think if you don’t show up?

“Don’ wanna,” he groaned and tossed the covers over his head. The darkness was soothing. He let his eyes slip closed. Just one more minute…

“People are beginning to talk.” 

He bolted upright, his eyes growing so wide he was worried they might actually pop out of his skull.

“Alastor? What the Hell are you doing on my bed?”

Because he was. On the far edge. Sitting with his legs crossed. As casually as if this was the kind of thing regular people did every day: break into the King of Hell’s room and sit on his bed.

(Not that Lucifer hadn’t thought about the demon in his bed before, but usually it was in the damn thing and with a lot less clothes and what the actual Hell was he thinking right now?) 

“People are beginning to talk.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Yes. Because I don’t think you heard me the first time.” Alastor eyed him, clearly unimpressed by what he saw. It had the odd effect of making Lucifer want to punch the demon in the nose and pull the covers over his head at the same time. “If you don’t get up in the next five minutes, you’ll be late for the meeting.”

“Oh, who cares?” Lucifer sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. “It doesn’t matter whether I’m there or not. They’ll squabble and Ozzie will flirt and Beezlebub will try to get everyone drunk and Mammon will drive everyone up the wall with new pyramid schemes.” 

Alastor tilted his head almost a full 45 degrees. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Was the man half-owl? A mean gleam shimmered just below the surface, turning his eyes into bloody rubies. “If you hate ruling so much, why not just give up the crown? Let someone better take it.”

“Oh?” Lucifer snorted. “Sounds like you have someone in mind.” 

Alastor sighed, as melodramatic as a soap opera. “Alas, I would – but I doubt the six Sins would listen to lil’ ol’ me.” His accent slipped from transatlantic to all New Orleans, and Lucifer found himself hanging on every word. Southern suited the demon, was just as much Alastor as the color red and his old fashioned suits.

He shook himself out of it, snorting. “Please. Try the humble pie act somewhere else. You’ve never thought of yourself as little even once in your life.” 

“Caught in the act!” The demon sang.

There was a long moment of silence as Lucifer hugged his blankets to himself and Alastor hummed some blues under his breath.

“How do you do it?” Lucifer said suddenly, and blushed, ducking his head back into his knees.

“Do what?” 

If Alastor had looked even the tiniest bit mocking, or teasing, or annoyed, Lucifer would have dove into his blankets and that would have been that. No meeting, no big Assembly, the entirety of Hell could go to…well, Hell, for all he cared. 

But Alastor seemed honestly curious. Not soft, never that, but he was looking at Lucifer as if he actually cared what he had to say. 

“How do you keep going every day?” 

With anyone else, he would have apologized immediately for worrying them. Charlie would have started crying and immediately urging him to go see someone about his problem. Lilith would have listened, but a part of her would have been writing up her list of to-dos for the day. And anyone else – well. 

He didn’t have anyone else. 

That was part of the problem though, wasn’t it? 

But because Alastor was a cold, callous bastard, he didn’t have to apologize. He could just be honest. Already he was starting to feel some of the weight fall off his shoulders, as if carrying the words around had been half the battle. 

Alastor tapped his cane on the ground. “Because I have half a doe in the fridge, plans with Rosie next Tuesday, and in a few months I fully intend to rule Hell.”

The last one caught Lucifer completely by surprise. He half-snorted, half-coughed into the crook of his arm. “Excuse me?” He squeaked. “Should I be alarmed?” 

“Absolutely not, my dear.” When Alastor grinned, there was something remarkably predator about it. “Didn’t you hear me say the Sins would never listen to me? I couldn't do it alone.”

“But then how do you intend…” Lucifer stopped, and his cheeks turned an absolutely brilliant shade of scarlet. “You– you– you don’t mean?”

“Ah, there we go,” Alastor said. “Took you long enough. It’s a good thing you’ve got a pretty face, hmm?”

“I’m married!” 

Alastor leaned forward. For one brief second Lucifer thought he was going to kiss him – but instead, he pat him on the head, as if he was an overgrown toddler. “My dear…one wedding ring does not a marriage make.”

Lucifer scrambled out of bed and tumbled to the floor in his hurry to get away from the complete and utter madman. 

“Ah, good! You’re up!” Alastor snapped to attention, bustling about as he got Lucifer’s outfit prepared for the day with the grace and ease of a seasoned valet. 

Lucifer took the proffered outfit, gaping up at the demon looming above him like – a nightmare? A dream? You could never tell which was which when it came to the Radio Demon. “Were you trying to get me out of bed this entire time?” 

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“No!” He spluttered, his cheeks once against stained wine-red. “So all that stuff about – wanting to rule Hell was…?” He would absolutely explode if he had to complete the sentence.

“Perhaps if you get up in the next–” Alastor checked his bare wrist, no watch in sight. “Two minutes, I’ll let you know.” 

The man is absolutely bonkers, Lucifer thought, but he did pick himself up off the ground and start getting ready. For some reason, it wasn’t nearly as hard as it had been earlier this morning – not when Alastor was there to confuse, entice, confuse, ridicule him. 

Alastor walked jauntily towards the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. 

“One step at a time,” he said suddenly. 

“Excuse me?” 

Alastor graced him with his patented I have been saddled with an idiot look. “You asked me how I keep going. I take it one step at a time.” 

Then he was gone. Lucifer stared at the outfit he’d left for him -- it was his favorite suit, with gold accents and ruby highlights. When had Alastor bothered to notice?

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

One step at a time, huh? He could do that.

[damedechance]

seek&destroy

read pt1 on ao3 || listen to the playlist

You're telling me I got to talk with @foundress0fnothing for the past few weeks (my favorite person) and write about Gwynriel (my two favorite idiots)? I have seriously enjoyed getting to know my precious giftee a little bit more during this event and I am so so so excited to finally share part of what I've been working on!!! Em, I hope you know how cherished you are in this little fandom community, and I hope this fic can bring you even just the littlest spark of joy! Love you endlessly, Santa 🌟

Pairing: Gwynriel

Parts: 1 of 5

Rating: Explicit (for eventual smut)

Summary: Those with a link to a realm long gone now live in secret, and Gwyneth Berdara is one of them. After a horrific tragedy rends her life apart, Gwyn finds herself in good company with her fellow Valkyries, a group of vigilantes who work to restore the forgotten relics of a land called 'Prythian.' When Gwyn's work brings her to an illustrious museum, her own world collides with that of the mysterious Shadowsinger--an encounter that leads to her vowing to bring him to his untimely end. [[FOR @acotargiftexchange]]

Read below for all of Chapter One:

CHAPTER ONE

Too. Many. Legs.

There were just too many legs, Gwyn thought, as she stared in open-mouthed horror at the projector screen. Just as she swallowed down a gag at the sight of the ghastly images before her, the presenter gestured passionately towards the slides, his tall frame and abhorrent posture giving the illusion of the rounded shell of a beetle. So uncanny was his resemblance to the subject of his own presentation, the species he’d apparently devoted his entire career to–the cerambycid beetle. Gwyn fought back a shiver. Or a scream of terror.

Not that she wasn’t sympathetic to his cause. A glance at the pamphlet in front of her revealed that he held a PhD in entomology–a degree she knew from personal experience was all but impossible if you didn’t feel truly dedicated to your work. He was probably a sweet old man, she struggled to convince herself. Someone like her, a person so entirely enamored with their subject of study that the less attractive facets of the field were of no consequence. In fact, she admired that sort of devotion. 

Still, the clearly impassioned man wasn’t exactly persuading her to actually take up an interest in the study of insects. Gwyn suspected that the sight of those beetles was the primary driving force in that decision. Especially since she still couldn’t keep her eyes open for more than five minutes at a time, and was currently squeezing them shut as she counted out her deep, steadying breaths. Just a few moments of relief from the images on the screen was all she needed.

When she opened her eyes again, the presenter had switched to the next slide, which revealed a close-up view of the beetle’s segmented underbelly. Heaving, Gwyn bit down on her tongue as she felt the blood drain from her face. To distract herself from the urge to evacuate the contents of her  stomach, Gwyn allowed her eyes to drift aimlessly about the room.

For not the first time, she was grateful that she’d been able to secure a seat for herself in the back of the auditorium. The badge hanging from the bright red lanyard across her neck proclaimed her a professor of entomology at the Dunmere College of Arts and Sciences, but she imagined that if any of the other conference attendees saw how green her face was, that title would prove itself somewhat implausible.

If nothing else, Gwyn needed to be sure that her act was flawless tonight. By the end of the Annual Entomology Society Conference, she wanted to have every single person in this room reasonably convinced that she was an ardent scholar of…bugs. Or, at the very least, she needed to not raise anyone’s suspicions to the contrary.

Perhaps if she simply kept sitting in the back, then.

Sighing quietly, Gwyn shifted down in her seat and allowed her legs to spread out in front of her. If she were to be stuck here, listening to the keynote speaker for the next–she checked the clock hanging above the door–five minutes, she should at least get comfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers tapping impatiently across her biceps, and stared unseeingly at the screen.

The minutes passed excruciatingly slowly. More legs, more antennae, more larvae, and by the end of the time Gwyn was biting on the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from screaming in abject horror at each new, impossibly grotesque image. Until finally, the presenter reached the end of his slides, and only a blank screen appeared above his head.

“Right,” the bug doctor said. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, and began shuffling his papers over the podium. “Thank you all for such a thrilling discussion of cerambycid communities and their impact as an invasive species.”

Thrilling. Gwyn snorted to herself, and when more than a few heads turned in her direction, she quickly masked it as a sneeze.

“I will be available for a Q&A session later this afternoon,” the presenter continued, his finger prodding one of the papers on the top of his stack, as if pointing to a time. “Until then, I suggest perusing the rest of the museum for the insect nursery, where I am told some cerambycid beetle larvae are on display. Do take note of the well-progressed sclerotisation of the mouth parts, and if you find yourself peckish, I hear the cafe has an excellent gelato stand.”

That the presenter could possibly utter the words sclerotisation and gelato in the same sentence only served to confirm for Gwyn that she needed to get out of that room as soon as possible. Eagerly standing up, she shoved her notebook full of fake notes into her bag, and began to walk down the auditorium steps with the rest of the meager audience. Entomology was not a popular field apparently, and Gwyn could hazard a guess as to why.

As she approached the stage where the bug doctor still stood at the podium, politely accepting words of praise from some of the other attendees, Gwyn thought she hear the words antennal sockets and low tubercles, and immediately quickened her pace, slipping past others to ensure that she was towards the middle of the pack, instead of at the very end.

Sighing in relief as soon as she stepped out of the auditorium and into one of the connecting halls outside of the exhibits, Gwyn followed the flow of the crowd. She slipped her phone out of her pocket, pretending to be texting so that none of the bug enthusiasts would attempt to engage her in some conversation about pupation. Only looking up occasionally from her notes app where she just repeatedly typed the words ew ew ew, Gwyn nearly yelped when she heard a voice in her ear. 

“You missed your turn,” Emerie said, her voice slightly crackling through the earpiece hidden behind Gwyn’s hair.

She cleared her notes app, quickly typing the words, I know. And Sorry.

A tinny sigh in her ear. “That’s okay, just don’t attract attention. Pretend to look interested in the exhibit.”

Gwyn locked her phone, slipping it back into her bag as she lifted her head. Immediately regretting the action, once she came face to face with hundred of wiggling, nasty looking larvae.

This time, Gwyn couldn’t hold back her yelp, though she did manage to close her mouth in time to capture the sound, so that it didn’t disrupt the group of people that had gathered to marvel at the nasty little things. Pointing out some fascinating detail of another, as they crowded around the glass window into the bug nursery. In hindsight, Gwyn really should have expected that following the crowd of conference attendees would have led her here.

Carefully controlling her breathing rate so that she wouldn’t alert the others, Gwyn took several steps backwards from the case before turning and walking in the direction of the entrance to the next exhibit. One glance around the room revealed to her that the rest of the entomologists were already deeply engrossed with the contents of the many cases around them, and so Gwyn was able to easily slip out of the room without attracting notice.

The adjoining exhibit, a hall of various bones and skeletons, was relatively less crowded, and Gwyn was just as easily able to weave her way in and out of the gathered bodies. She allowed her head to swivel around, if only to appear as any other mildly interested patron, but stayed resolute in her path towards the exhibit that she’d originally missed.

“Slow down,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Or at least pretend to be looking for the bathroom.”

Gwyn huffed, shoulders sagging as she forced herself to slow down somewhere in the middle of the ocean exhibit. Above her, the lights illuminated the room in slowly shifting shades of blue, casting the impression of walking along the ocean floor. She ran a hand over her face, and continued walking at a much more deliberate pace.

Admittedly, the museum was rather impressive and on any other day, Gwyn would have been among all of the other patrons, staring wide-eyed at the displays and devotedly reading each and every plaque. 

But she wasn’t here to admire the museum. The entomology conference had only been an excuse for Gwyn to come to the Helion Museum of Natural History. If she had simply attended as a regular patron, without a purpose for ambling through the halls other than pure entertainment, she wouldn’t have been granted a keycard that allowed her access to some of the more restricted sections of the museum.

She’d already taken advantage of that privilege the previous day, when she and the other conference attendees took a tour of the research wings, where the archivists and conservationists worked. Their guide had taken them through room upon room of lovingly organized samples stacked in neat rows upon the shelves or spread across tables as researchers gently worked to clean and preserve them. The ultimate purpose of the tour had been to view the yet unveiling showing of moths as the archivists carefully pinned and labeled them, but Gwyn had conveniently slipped out under the guise of a bathroom break before that ever happened. That night, she returned home to Nesta and Emerie with a neatly drawn map of nearly the entire research wing.

Now, as Gwyn ambled through the ocean exhibit, the brilliant displays of coral and skeletons of various sea creatures rose up around her. She walked slowly, arms crossed over her badge so that anyone passing her wouldn’t note that she’d wandered off from the rest of the entomologists. Emerie gently murmured her approval in Gwyn’s ear, just as she crossed the threshold into the next exhibit, a sign above it advertising the Space and Astronomy hall.

The entrance was a long, dark tunnel with white swirling lights on the rounded ceilings and walls. Not resembling stars, but instead pulsing from one end to another like a portal. Gwyn was the only one walking through it, and belatedly she realized that this was a relatively slow day and hour for the museum. She hadn’t seen many other patrons, except for the rest of the bug crew, and as she walked out of the tunnel and into the dimly lit chamber that was the space exhibit, she realized that she was the only one there, save for the security guard currently leaning against a wall and staring at the toe of his boot.

Gwyn adjusted her glasses, slowly winding around case after case of space memorabilia. Some artifacts collected from the surface of the moon, and hundreds of chunks of rock from meteorites that had crashed to earth. She paused at a few signs for good measure, but her gaze was drawn to the ceiling above, which was a careful recreation of the constellations in the night sky.

As she made her way to the end of the hall, Gwyn nearly tripped over a small pedestal that appeared to rise up out of nowhere. She stumbled back, staring dumbfounded at the small, square case that shone more brightly than any of the others in the entire museum thus far. 

Just a small, glass box atop a narrow pedestal at the center of the corridor, right before the entrance to the next exhibit. And she was so close, Emerie was murmuring in her ear a list of reminders of what to take note of as soon as she entered the next room–but Gwyn couldn’t resist. That one lone box, that felt like it had been waiting for her.

Slowly, she approached, carefully leaning over the glass case to observe the contents, only to see that it was a single glass tube, stoppered at the end with a metal cap.

Gwyn sucked in a sharp breath, holding it as if letting it out would disturb the little granules safely behind several layers of glass. She admired it, this fine powdery substance within the tube that almost looked like glitter, it was so reflective. She didn’t know what it was, only that it was beautiful, catching the light in this oddly mesmerizing way, and there was so little of it. A pinch, really.

Her eyes flashed to the small sign below the display, and read the label: Presolar Grains.

Lips parted in awe, Gwyn looked back to the small tube, and recognized the particles inside as actual stardust. The dust from stars formed billions of years ago, before the sun even existed. She reached out, her five fingers spread across the glass as she crouched to get on eye level with it.

How something so outstanding could be kept in a place as unassuming  as this–just perched on a small pedestal in a vacant section of the museum–was a wonder to her. There should have been hundreds of people crowding around this very case, craning their necks for a chance to see it, this evidence that something had existed before the sun.

“What is it?”

Gwyn jumped as soon as the voice sounded behind her, whirling around with her arm out in front of her with the impulse to shove the person away. With Emerie berating her in her ear, Gwyn managed to suppress her instincts just in time, her eyes widening as they trailed up a man’s chest to his face.

She was met with easily the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. Like molten bronze, these fluent pools of amber and hints of green, and she staggered back, catching herself with a hand atop the case behind her.

“Careful,” the man said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took half a step forward. Either to catch her, or peel her hand off the case, she couldn’t tell. “The guards might think you’re trying to steal something.”

Gwyn tore her hand off the case as if she’d been burned, hastily stepping aside to put as much distance between herself and the display as she could. She had the strangest feeling, that his eyes had tunneled straight through her, and could somehow see her true intentions as if they’d been written out just as plainly as any other sign in the museum–there was no other reason. He knew why she was there.

But as her heart hammered in her chest at the prospect of her cover being blown, the man only gave her a small smile, really just a fleeting jump at the corner of his mouth, before stepping forward and leaning over the case.

“What are you doing?” Emerie was screeching in her ear. “Leave, geology is in the next room.”

But so perplexed was Gwyn by the man in front of her, that she felt rooted to the spot. Her head cocked slightly to the side as she studied him. How he silently mouthed the words as he read them on the sign, how the slight hook of his nose caught the light emanating from the case, sending an elongated shadow across his face, carving out his cheekbone. Those eyes that were framed by long arching eyelashes and hair that was so dark it seemed to absorb and devour all of the light.

Something about him bothered her.

Suddenly, his head turned, an amused smile already melting over his face as he looked at her. Gwyn jumped, eyes going wide as she pretended like she’d been doing anything other than assessing him. But the man straightened, stepping away from the case to stand slightly in front of her.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes slowly traveling down to the badge around her neck before she could answer.

Gwyn hurried to cover it with a hand, some deeply ingrained instinct of self preservation telling her that she couldn’t trust him despite his friendly smile or Emerie’s pleas for her to just act normal. 

He lifted a brow at her, his gaze snapping back to her face.

“Is it a secret?” he said.

“Diana,” she blurted, forcing her hand to lift away from the badge. “Diana Bishop.”

He simply stared at her for a moment, before letting out a short, caustic laugh.

“Okay.”

Gwyn narrowed her eyes, her hands turning into fists as she studied him. Gorgeous face aside, he looked absolutely normal. Black shirt tucked into immaculately pressed and tailored trousers. Stylish, attractive even–but decidedly normal.

Why, then, couldn’t she smother the feeling that he knew all of her deepest and darkest secrets?

“What was that?” she asked, flinching slightly when her voice came out slightly more accusatory than she supposed it should have. She could at least keep up the appearance that she didn’t suspect him of anything.

“Just let it go,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Apologize and walk away.”

Apologize. For being her best friend, Emerie apparently didn’t know her at all, because instead of walking out, Gwyn took a step forward, invading the man’s space, crossing her arms over her chest so that they bumped against him. And when she looked up to his face, where she expected to see reproach, instead she saw eagerness.

“Nothing,” he practically purred. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Diana.”

Gwyn frowned, her eyes roving over his face for any sort of tell. Reason told her that he couldn’t have been like her. He was tall, and built like a damn soldier with those broad shoulders and muscles pulling the fabric of his shirt taut over his chest, but there was no way he was dangerous. He had to be normal.

And then there was that gut feeling. Like electricity arcing over her skin, sirens blaring in her ears. He had come out of nowhere.

“And what’s your name?” Gwyn said derisively.

“Fine,” Emerie sighed, resigned, into her ear. “If you won’t listen to me, fine, but when Nesta comes back–”

Irritated, Gwyn jerkily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hooking her finger into the clear cord of her earpiece and tucking the entire thing into her palm in one movement so that he couldn’t see.

“Azriel,” he said, reaching his hand out. She noticed scars running up the lengths of his fingers towards his wrist, and she stared at the nearly mesmerizing patterns for far too long before she realized that she was meant to shake it, and she still had the earpiece in her palm.

“I have to go,” Gwyn said slowly, backing away and angling her body towards the entrance to the next exhibit.

She put Azriel at her back as she paced towards the short corridor leading to the gems and minerals exhibit, her steps quickening as she passed by the security guard she’d spotted earlier.

Azriel wouldn’t follow her, she assured herself as she crossed into the gems and minerals exhibit, where there were countless glittering gems winking at her beneath the lights. He wouldn’t follow her, because she had been so off putting and strange, he wouldn’t deem her worthy of the effort.

Placated for now, Gwyn adjusted her glasses over her nose, and swiveled her head about the room so that the camera hidden in the frames could capture the overall layout of the exhibit. It was a rushed job, not nearly as meticulous as it would have been if she wasn’t so paranoid that Azriel would jump out of nowhere with twenty armed guards ready to escort her to some secret dungeon in an underground government bunker.

Been there, done that.

She considered popping her earpiece back in, but just as she rounded the first display case at the center of the hall, a mother and child came bounding down the aisle, stopping right next to her to admire a row of amethyst.

She backed up, allowing the little boy some space, and was about to continue her walk around the rest of the room, when she ran into something hard, all of the air whooshing out of her lungs.

“Ugh,” Gwyn grunted, as hands wrapped around her upper arms and steadied her.

“Sorry,” the same voice from before said, helping her to turn around. Of course he’d followed her. She’d been off putting and strange, and he was definitely not normal.

Gwyn glared up at him, all pretenses of being some bookish bug enthusiast easily forgotten. He had found her out, she was sure of it, and she now dedicated all of her efforts towards thinking of a way to get rid of him. Collecting footage of the display cases so Emerie could catalog the contents for later was secondary, because clearly he was a threat to the mission.

Belatedly, she wished she hadn’t taken out the earpiece.

“What do you want?” Gwyn said, a hushed whisper so that the family behind her wouldn’t pick up on the thinly veiled hostility.

Azriel furrowed his brows. So he was going to pretend to be confused, then.

“You left in a hurry,” he explained. “I thought you might be in some sort of trouble, so I came to ask if you needed help. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

Gwyn scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Look, I really should be getting back.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes drifting down to her badge again.

“To the… bugs?”

“Screw you,” Gwyn blurted.

She whirled away, stalking down the aisle as the mother gasped and clapped her hands over her son’s ears. Gwyn didn’t even bother with trying to capture more footage. Her cover was blown, and all she needed to do now was lose her tail without attracting anymore attention.

Unfortunately, that also meant it was rather easy for her pursuer to catch up to her. 

She supposed she could kill him, if it came down to it.

“Did I insult your profession somehow?” He asked, jogging up beside her. “Was I not supposed to call them bugs?”

He came in front of her, trying to capture her gaze, which forced her to halt right beside a large tower of some type of quartz. She knew, not because she bothered to look at it, but because the reflection of it glimmered in his eyes.

“Get out of the way,” Gwyn said through her teeth as she rolled the earpiece within her palm. She glanced around him, eyes noting the camera wedged up against the ceiling. Murder was out, then.

He only smirked down at her, and just the sight of that gentle arch of his mouth was enough to convince her that he was privy to her homicidal intent, somehow. Any normal person would have walked away by now. He was staring her down like an adversary.

“Sure,” he said easily, stepping out of her way, and then waiting. Like he expected her to walk with him. “Maybe you could show me around? I had a bug phase as a kid, you know.”

Gwyn pushed ahead for the exit, struggling to ignore him as he easily matched her pace. If she could just lead him into an empty stairwell, she would be able to lose him. Knock him unconscious, and then leave him there for some poor museum employee to find. She could do it.

She tried to ignore him, and failed because then he started rambling about egg sacs, and Gwyn couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shut up,” she said. On an impulse, she grabbed his arm and pulled him with her towards a door marked Staff Only in a secluded vestibule off of the gem and mineral exhibit.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Gwyn immediately regretted her decision. Chest heaving, she looked around to see that she’d brought them into a storage room. Small, but not as tight as a closet, even with the towering stacks of clearly labeled bins around them. There were no windows, and the only lights were the strips of LEDs along the floor marking the narrow aisles.

“Diana,” Azriel said slowly, letting out a low breath as he glanced around the room. “This is all very flattering, but are you sure you want to do this here?”

“What?” Gwyn shrieked, her hands balling into fists. She backed up towards the door, where she thought she saw a broom, and considered using it to knock him out.

He was crowding her, slowly walking into her until her shoulders pressed against the door. She had been so sure, before bringing him in here, that he wanted to capture her, and with each vanishing inch between them, her mind was thrown into further disarray.

She had to get rid of him.

“I’ll admit,” he said, “There’s clearly something between us.”

Gwyn shook her head, trying to order her thoughts before she looked back up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“But don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for clandestine meetings in dark rooms?” he said.

His hands came up on either side of her head to cage her in. He leaned down, leveling her stare with one of his own, and she watched as his gaze drifted to her mouth.  

“What were you thinking we would do?” he murmured. “When you led me in here?”

“Don’t play with me,” Gwyn said, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She reached out a hand, groping for the door handle.

“No?” he said, face angling to the side. Like he might try to kiss her, and the thought of it was no more terrifying than her realization that she wouldn’t have minded it.

And again, like he could hear every one of his thoughts, his mouth curved into a smile.

“Then what should I do with you?” he asked.

“Look,” Gwyn said, her fingers finally landing on the handle. She pressed herself flush against the door as he stepped closer, so that his chest wouldn’t brush against hers. “Just let me go, and I promise–”

“Let you go?” Azriel murmured, smirking at her.

“Yes,” Gwyn said flatly. She stared resolutely back at him, unwilling to allow him to see even a shred of nervousness. She could do this. She could knock him down right now, if she wanted.

So why wasn’t she?

“Let you go,” he repeated, humming as if he was turning the idea over in his mind. Considering it. His face dipped to the side, his lips somewhere near her ear when he whispered, “Why? Have you done something you shouldn’t have?”

Gwyn’s mouth fell open, her eyes roving restlessly up and down the side of his face as she tried to reconcile the part of her that desperately wanted to see him lying across the floor as she smacked him repeatedly with the broom handle–with the part of her that wanted to see him lying across the floor as she crawled over him and pressed her tongue to his neck.

Her fingers slipped off of the door handle, and were reaching for his shirt collar to do something, when the door suddenly opened behind her, knocking her into his arms. She scrambled for a moment, her hands peeling his off of her waist as he tried to steady her.

Above them, the overhead light flashed on, and she squinted against the harsh light as she turned to face the person who had walked in.

“What are you doing in here?” one of the security guards frowned at them.

Gwyn’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to come up with a reasonable excuse as Azriel scrubbed his hand over his mouth beside her, trying to hide a grin. She had just landed on I got lost, when the security guard groaned, stepping to the side to let them pass.

“They don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” he muttered to himself. He looked up at the ceiling, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’d think adults would behave with some decency.”

Gwyn glared at the security guard, brushing past him and out the door. She expected Azriel to be right behind her, but once she’d gotten over her indignation at having someone assume she’d been doing indecent things with him in public, she turned to look behind her.

Only to see the back of his head.

He was going in the opposite direction.

Stunned, Gwyn tore the lanyard off over her head and chucked it into the nearest trash can. She headed straight for the main staircase at the end of the vestibule, where she knew she could reach the museum atrium and eventually the exit. She needed to get out of there, needed to get lost in a crowd so she could rid herself of the feeling of being watched.

He had let her go.

It didn’t make sense, Gwyn thought as she hurried down the steps. He’d clearly been onto her, had clearly recognized that she was up to something. Any reasonable person wouldn’t have let her go, especially not if she had been his target in the first place. Gwyn wouldn’t have let him go, if the roles were reversed, and if she wasn’t so concerned with getting out of the damn building, she would have been right on his heels.

There was something wrong, Gwyn knew. And she would have to head back to Emerie and Nesta and tell them.

Tell them they needed to call this mission off.

[older-men-are-sexy-okay]

Soft Spot

CH 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2k

Summary: You have just graduated with your Bachelor’s degree and decide to stay at home with your dad to save some money before graduate school. The thing is, he is moving from California to Texas to live next to his best friend/college roommate, Joel, along with his daughter, Sarah. Growing up, you heard so much about him from your dad. It’s almost like you know Joel, but you don’t. You’ve never actually met him. This Summer will be interesting…

Warnings/Tags: Dbf! Joel, slow burn, eventual smut, kinda mean Joel, explicit language, references to death, struggles with depression, reader is younger than Joel (22/43).

Note: I am a very inexperienced writer, but wanted to have some fun. Go easy on me! Chapters will probably be short and come out fast because I have ADHD lol. And yes, Obie is named after Oberyn Martell from GOT 😂.

CHAPTER 1

“Obie!” You yell out your back door. “Come, boy.” Your golden retriever comes running in the house. You always referred to Obie as ‘the only man you need in your life’. Although, that is definitely not true because you couldn’t live without your dad, it sums up your attachment to your dog. You close the backdoor and turn to look around the empty house with a leash in your hand. It’ll be weird to live somewhere not in this house, you have lived here since you were born. It saddens you when you realize that this was the last house your mother stepped foot in. Any houses after this one will be void of her presence. You take a deep breath and walk up to Obie, clasping his leash to his collar. You open the front door to meet your dad who is waiting in the U-Haul with all of your belongings combined. You usher Obie up into the front seat of the truck and have him sit between you and your dad. You close the door and let out a sigh. Your dad turns to you and puts his hand on your shoulder. “You okay, hun?” You look over to him. “Yeah, just ready to get this drive over with”. You reply. It was partly true, you were dreading the 20 hour drive. But you purposefully didn’t mention your true feelings. “Well let’s get going then”. Your dad pulls out from your childhood home and begins to drive to his new one. 

The drive wasn’t horrible. One motel stay, multiple potty breaks for Obie, listening to podcasts and eating a bunch of junk food. You finally reach the neighborhood the new house is in. Your dad pulls into a cul-de-sac and points to a green two-story house on the left side. “This is her,” he says, pulling into the driveway. “Looks pretty nice, I think she’ll do” You respond “Which house is Joels?” You didn’t really care much, but the whole reason your dad wanted to move here in the first place was to be next to his so-called best friend Joel Miller. You’ve never met the guy, but you don’t really care to particularly. Your dad always talked about him so much growing up, you feel like he’s your long-lost uncle or something. You supposedly met him once when you were 3 years old at your mother’s funeral. You obviously don’t remember, you know, being 3 and having better things to worry about like your mom being dead. Your dad always told you the story of how he and Joel met: it was their freshman year at college at the University of Texas, Austin, and they were random roommates. They became best friends and were inseparable until your dad met your mom and moved to Los Angeles. Since you were looking at schools in the Texas area and were accepted to UT for your graduate program, your dad thought it would be a good idea to move with you so you can stay at home. Also, so your dad could have someone he cares about, other than you, close. He's been lonely since your mom died but he won’t admit it. You agreed, because worst case scenario, you save money by living at home with your dad. 

“His is the one right across the street”. Your dad points behind you both, behind the U-Haul. You look over your shoulder and see a white house with no cars in the driveway. It looked like no one was home. “Joel’s at work, but should be off around 6 in time for the barbeque.” Your dad continues. You look at him puzzled, “what barbeque?” “The cul-de-sac is throwing us a welcome barbeque tonight”. He looks at you smiling. “Ugh, now after driving half the day I have to go put on makeup to meet some people I don’t know”. You were exhausted, you wished you could just go in and go to sleep. But there wasn’t even a bed inside, lots of unloading to do. Obie begins to whine, signaling he wants to be let out. “Oh come on, you’ll be fine” Your dad exclaims. You open the door to the U-Haul to let Obie out and head towards your new home.

4 ½ hours and lots of sweating later, you’re finally done getting ready for the barbeque and moving your stuff. Your room is hardly set up, with just a bed in the middle. But you don’t care, it can wait until tomorrow. You’re wearing blue jean shorts, a black tank top and flip flops. Not trying to impress anyone too bad here. Besides, it’s May in Texas, so it’s pretty hot. But you have your hair down and makeup on so you look like you at least tried. You look at your phone, it’s 6:30 PM. Your dad left to help set up the barbecue an hour ago and said he would be back. He must’ve ran into Joel and begun reminiscing or something. You take it upon yourself to make an appearance just to make your dad happy. “Obie, come on” You walk down the stairs and usher Obie outside the front door with you. 

You close the front door and look around the cul-de-sac. The first thing you notice being the loud country music and the smell of hotdogs. There’s two tables set up with a red patterned tablecloth in the middle of the cul-de-sac. They have hotdogs, burgers and condiments on them. There’s multiple ice chests and chairs everywhere. You think everyone in the cul-de-sac must be here, because they are blocking off the road. There are quite a few people here, obviously no one you recognize. You decide to take a walk around and explore more. “Let’s go, Bubba”. Obie follows you as you walk down the sidewalk deeper into the party. You see a blue ice chest labeled ‘water’ and open it up to take a cold water bottle. Right as you’re done taking a swig, you hear someone ask “what’s his name?” You look over to see a girl, motioning toward your dog. Though you could tell she is younger, a teen maybe, she is almost your height. You smile and say “oh, this is Obie”. “Can I pet him?” The girl asks. “Of course, he’s a sweet boy”. You say. She leans down and rubs him on the head, “Hi, Obie” she says to him. She stands back up and introduces herself to you “I’m Sarah. You’re John’s daughter, right?” You look at her puzzled. “Yeah, how do you know my dad?” You reply. “Because Joel’s my dad”. She says. “Ohhh, duh. Sorry”. You feel a little stupid due to the fact that you forgot Joel had a daughter. You introduce yourself back to Sarah. “I guess we’re basically like, cousins, or something” She says laughing. “I guess so”, you give a small chuckle back. She looks over your shoulder, “he’s super cute, huh?” Pointing behind you. You look over to see a blondish boy with his friend, throwing a football back and forth to each other. You look back to Sarah. “Sure, but they look a bit old for you. How old are you, Sarah?” You ask. “I’m 12, he’s 21. His name is Scotty”. She replies. You widen your eyes at the response, thinking the girl was around 15. “It’s just a crush, he doesn’t even know I exist. But still, please don’t tell my dad” Sarah says. “Of course,” You say smiling. “Does Obie need some water?” Sarah asks. You look down at Obie, who is panting severely. “It is a bit hot, maybe I should get him some”. You exclaim. “Don’t worry, we’re closer to my house, we can just get it there. Let me just double check with my dad that it’s okay”. Her house is equal distance to your house, but you write it off as Sarah being excited to show you her house. Sarah motions for you to follow her, so you do. 

You walk a few steps to the table with the food sprawled across it. You notice your dad on the end getting a hotdog with a man beside him, both of them laughing. Sarah walks up to the man, who is scooping relish onto his hotdog. You and Obie stand beside her. “Dad?”  She tries to get his attention, but he keeps his back turned to her. “Yeah?” The man says. “Can we go inside the house for a second?” She asks. “Who is we?” He asks as he turns toward her with the hotdog in his hand. He looks at her, then his eyes cross over to yours. It is only then you notice how handsome the man is. He looks rugged, but has soft eyes. His patchy beard and wavy, salt and pepper hair tell you this man is somewhere in his forties. He’s wearing a green button up flannel with the sleeves rolled up. Your breath catches as he looks at you blankly and puts the plastic spoon he was using to scoop relish with in his mouth to suck off the excess. Sarah introduces you to the man, all the while he doesn’t break eye contact. “We were just going to get her dog some water real quick”. Sarah says. The man then looks down at Obie and back up to you. He then takes the spoon out of his mouth. Your dad then appears, he puts his hand on the man’s shoulder and says “Joel, this is my daughter.” You knew Sarah’s dad was Joel, but for some reason it did not connect that this man in front of you was Joel. You give Joel a pathetic little “Hi”. He responds back, “Hi.” Then turns his attention back toward Sarah. “Go ahead” he gives Sarah permission. Sarah starts to walk excitedly toward her house. You and Obie follow her, still eyeing the man as he turns back toward your dad to say something. He seems a bit rude, you think to yourself. He didn’t say ‘nice to meet you’ or introduce himself. And his eye contact was very strong, it made you feel a bit uncomfortable. Not the warm welcome you expected, but you try to brush it off. 

You, Sarah and Obie go inside the house. She grabs a bowl from the cabinet and fills it up with water. She lays it on the floor. While Obie drinks the water sloppily, you ask “hey, is your dad always like that? You know…” You struggle to find the words to describe his presence. “Cold?” Sarah takes the word right out of your mouth. “Yes! Cold. Is he always so cold to everyone?” You specify. It leaves you surprised that Joel is coming off this way, because your dad is so nice and outgoing. You ask yourself how they could be best friends with such different personalities. She replies, “Yeah, basically everyone. Except me, my uncle Tommy, and your dad”. “Everyone else he is pretty cold to, but some people he just has a soft spot for”. Sarah continues. It begins to make sense in your mind, how Joel could be laughing with your dad one second then giving you a death stare the next. “Oh, okay”. You say as you try to drop the subject. 

You don’t know why, but you begin to wonder what it would take for Joel to have a soft spot for you, or how different he might act towards you. You think back to him laughing with your dad, how his dimple appeared out of nowhere. How unguarded he looked. You began to wish that it was you he was laughing with, not your dad. From this point on, you make it your goal to be one of Joel’s soft spots. 

[bionicle-ramblings]

MORE BIONICLE SCP AU!!!

This time we're focusing on the agents and the Metru SCPs, plus Takua

Huge thanks once again to @chancetimespace for the ideas in this AU, many of which being mentioned in this post. I will be referring to them as Chance going forward

Right off the bat, the Mata are in charge of their respective Metru, which means Gali is usually looking after Nokama, Onua is with Whenua, et cetera

An idea from Chance, Nuju and Kopaka often spend hours in silence, though Kopaka doesn't push for Nuju to say anything if he doesn't want to. He will also just let Nuju vent his frustrations about living in the foundation, even saying what he's doing isn't even living. Just sitting around and waiting for the next time he gets experimented on. The two are close personally, but Nuju has yet to fully embrace and explain why to Kopaka

Gali lets Nokama leave her room and will challenge her to swim races in a lake near the facility, something Nokama often prefers to the large tub she has in her cell. Gali is a former linguistic, so she can keep up pretty well with Nokama. She does talk to the other SCPs, including Vakama, who she has helped keep emotionally stable

Lewa is in charge of looking after Matau. He's mainly just keeping an eye on Matau and making sure Matau stays where he's supposed to. As Matau is a non-human anomaly, Lewa keeps him entertained by challenging him to hide and seek and monitored walks through nature preserves. He's also tasked with seeing how Matau's shapeshiting works and what his limits are, if he has any

Tahu is in charge of keeping an eye on Vakama and bends the rules of protocol by calling Vakama by his name and occasionally slipping him things like gum or something. He also reminds Vakama that he can make requests after sessions(especially after particularly challenging ones), and is more just trying to give Vakama some autonomy without getting either of them in trouble

Pohatu and Onewa have a similar "relationship" to Kopaka and Nuju, but only in that Pohatu lets Onewa vent as he excerises; only having two pieces of scenery(his room and the rec area he's allowed to go to) does get to someone sometimes

Takua/Takanuva is "shared" between the Mata because he's new, and he's close with Jaller who is an "intern."

Idea from Chance, Hahli is another SCP, being an aquatic SCP that Jaller monitors to make sure she's alive and doing well. The two end up getting close over time

Roodaka is another SCP, though she is one that is allowed free-roam and gets privileges thanks to her "connection" to a scientist working in the facility. The scientist himself is Sidorak, who's often testing the Metru, though he is particularly unterested in Vakama, due to his resilience and how he can see the future, to some degree(Idea from Chance, I believe)

The Metru are allowed to spend time together, but they're monitored by Lhikan and Naho. The Metru do somewhat get along, but Matau is fully of energy at finally meeting people who don't wear white coats, Whenua comes off as being too comfortable in the facility, Nokama's just trying to keep the piece, and Onewa wants out, but has his "muzzle" on, so no dice. They're genuinely curious when it comes to an SCP the Mata keep bringing up and soon make requests to meet him. Matau makes the decision to try seeing him when he hears the number the SCP is and follows as a fly, catching a good-ish look at him before he's caught. When the others ask for details, he admits to only seeing the SCP either faint or hide

When the Metru do all meet, it's awkward. The five were expecting to see someone or something like an eldritch horror, but instead it's just a kid. Introductions are shaky, especially as they learn why/how Vakama ended up in the facility

An idea from Chance: Takua/Takanuva has gotten in trouble by playing dead and scaring scientists, but isn't afraid to do it again

[nova-alien-rants]

sometimes it can be really fucking scary to achieve the things you've always wanted.

i think i need to put this out there not just for myself, but for anyone else who may be having a hard time coping with change in their lives, even if it's for the greater good.

this past wednesday was genuinely a really hard day for me. like, really really fucking hard. one of my best and oldest friend bailed on me along with her entire family which i considered to be my own, my parents acted disgusting toward my brother and tried pulling the same shit on me, i came back to my dorm after 40 minutes of driving to discover someone came into my room and touched my shit, and then had some stupid freshman act like a brat when i brought it up to the RAs. i haven't felt as low in a LONG time as i did by the end of that day.

but while i was driving back to campus, feeling completely alone and like i had no one to talk to, my grandparents ended up calling just to chat. i was crying so hard that i couldn't stop myself and spilled everything that had happened to me that day, and to my surprise, they were... really nice. they comforted me and even offered for me to move in with them once they get settled in their new house. i told them i felt really worried about how my parents would take the news of me moving, but my grandma said not to worry about that and she'll take care of it. for once i'm actually glad the people in this family are crazy.

all i've ever dreamed about for as long as i can remember is getting away from my parents. no longer living with them, no longer being controlled by them, no longer being physically and mentally broken down by them. my life goal has been to break free from my parents permanently. not a career, not material possessions, none of those things can ever come close to that goal. but now that it's happening, i'm filled with a kind of fear i've never experienced. there's so much uncertainty about literally everything in my life now.

will this thing with my grandparents' house even work out? how will my parents react to it? how am i going to manage to move all my shit into my grandparents' house even if i am able to stay there? what will happen when next semester starts? if i move in with my grandparents, my parents will cut me off financially and i won't have any help paying for my university tuition and/or housing. how will i finish my degree? how will i be able to afford going to graduate school? how will i pay for my medical bills?

i know in time all of these questions will become trivial, and i'll be able to look back eventually and be able to laugh about the fact that i was ever worried. the universe always works in my favor, even if i can't see it at the time. things always seem to have a funny way of working out but it's scary in the moment to not know what's going to happen. i'm a person who desperately craves stability and concrete plans in order to function, so all this uncertainty is... a lot to deal with.

but i think all this is happening so i can shed my old life and start another chapter in which i can finally heal for good and stay that way. even if our old lives suck, we can get used to them anyway and changing them can be absolutely terrifying. i think that's why leaving one's comfort zone can feel so hard. we don't know what to expect, so how are we supposed to protect ourselves in the event that something goes wrong? but i've come to believe that things don't go wrong, they simply don't go the way we expected them to. and that's scary, but it's also okay to sit with that fear. everything happens for a reason.

i'm not one of those people who will say to just "be happy" under circumstances such as these, even when your feelings may seem irrational and/or confusing to you. we're human, we're not fucking robots. we can't go through life stone-faced. change is hard. it's scary. it's overwhelming and full of so many questions no one may ever have the answers for. it's okay to take some time to cry, to scream, to get those feelings out. our brains are trying to keep us safe, and it's our job to let our brains express themselves. not every feeling has to be rationalized. it doesn't all have to make sense. sometimes it's okay to Just Be.

i personally believe that the world would be a much better place if we all took more time for ourselves to really feel our shit, because that's the only way it's going to get processed and let go. if you're someone like me whose BPD makes every feeling seem like a nightmare straight from hell, or whose alexithymia confuses you about what you're even feeling, that's okay too. again, you don't have to have all the answers. let yourself cry. let yourself lie on the floor. let yourself engage in your comfort activities. let yourself rest.

change isn't supposed to be all sunshine and rainbows. it's hard work, but it will all be worth it in the end. after every single one of my darkest times, i found myself shining brighter than i ever did previously. i don't know why we have to go through certain experiences, but it will all make sense one day. every single person on this earth has trauma, even if they may not have been abused or deal with a form of a post traumatic disorder. we're all just oversized children who are scared and need a hand to hold as they navigate life. we're human, and we're allowed to feel. we're going to get through this.

there's a reason why people say bravery is being scared while doing it anyway. change really is fucking scary, regardless of how good it may be for us. i'm going to keep saying it. hold your breath and do the thing anyway. let yourself be scared. feel that fear. make room for it and live with it. your brain loves you and is trying to protect you, even if it seems misguided. it's doing its best to be there for you, so you may as well at least humor it, right? how beautiful is it that your brain loves you enough to constantly try and protect you, regardless of the circumstance? i think it deserves love back. love those parts of you which have always loved you.

you're going to make it. you love you.

[violetsaffron5]

Psychotherapy

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Pairing: Zenin Naoya x f!Reader

Naoya is forced to go see a therapist to help his attitude so he can find a wife.

Words: 4503

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Spit Kink, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, Light Dom/Sub, Edging, Degradation

Early 2017

You’re on a beach in Malaysia; ocean waves crashing playfully against the shore as you sunbathe on the white sandy beach. Palm trees stand tall and proud, providing just enough shade, dancing ever so slightly with the soft breeze coming off the water.

“What man lets their woman have a job? Is there something wrong with your pussy?”

Birds fly overhead, dipping down to the sea to catch their next meal, feathers illuminated by the rays of the sun. Others sing the song of their people as they pass by, on their way to the next stop with the flock.

“There’s only one thing worse than a woman, and that’s a woman who can read.”

Is this son of a bitch the CEO of misogyny? Holy shit.

Whoever told you to meditate to relax when you have a horrible patient is a goddamn liar because when they open their stupid mouths, it’s ruined. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, finally opening your eyes to find a pair of sharp, cynical brown eyes staring back at you.

If you had realized this session was going to be with Naoya fucking Zen’in, you would have noped your way out of that so fast. This is what you get for not reviewing your case files due to the recent influx of patients.

Be professional. Be professional. Be professional.

“I took many years of-”

“Therapy isn’t a real profession anyway.” The blonde douchebag interrupts, waving you off as he sprawls on the chaise in front of the window in your office.

It took him all of 30 seconds to begin pissing you off. Barging in during your last session with a client demanding his start immediately, all the while using phrases like “do you know who I am?” and “wait until my father hears about this.” You rolled your eyes so hard it’s surprising they aren’t on the floor right now.

The window he’s next to looks out to a beautiful, quiet, wooded scene. If you killed him, nobody would be able to see you bury the body, save for the animals. And they wouldn’t say anything. Most would probably come by to pick at the fleshy parts of his skin, assisting with removing evidence making it harder to identify that it was you who had murdered the heir to the Zen’in clan.

It would be easy. Incredibly so. You’re unsuspecting. There’s nothing stopping you from walking over to him and stabbing your pen right into his eye. People think of you as the quiet shy type, when in reality you choose to keep to yourself to avoid being part of the office gossip, and if you had to admit it, you’re a little tired of all the shit your patients say too, which only adds to the quiet, unsuspecting demeanor.

“I took a psych class once, so I totally understand how to analyze people.”

“It’s not my fault those women are mad. I never agreed to be exclusive.”

“I didn’t kill the men at the fair. My henchmen did.”

If you played your cards right, you could probably talk Satoru Gojo into helping you cover it up. You haven’t seen this yourself, but word around the water cooler is things are so bad between them, that when they’re here for their sessions at the same time (the rare times Gojo actually shows up on time), they have to sit in different waiting rooms.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and kiss your teeth, choosing to ignore his comment like the goddamn professional you are. You didn’t get your master’s degree to be talked down to by someone with too thick eyeliner and too many piercings looking like a failed alt emo boy.

It’s probably best to ignore his snide remarks and continue with the session. The sooner it gets started, the sooner it can be over, “Naoya, wh-”

“ Master Naoya,” he interjects, clearly annoyed you’re not referring to him the way he deems worthy.

“Right….” There is no way in hell you’re referring to him as ‘Master’ in any lifetime. “Anyway. Whose idea was it for you to be here today?”

You don’t need to review his case file to know why Naoya’s in therapy. Everyone knows. In order to take over as clan head when his father passes, he needs to marry, except he can’t get anyone to agree to it, because he’s literal human trash. Hence the mandatory therapy to try and… remediate some of his issues.

“Isn’t that your “job” to know?” he uses air quotes.

You were hoping if he said it aloud, admitted it, then it would act as a sort of eye opener for him or at least a first step. Looks like that’s not the case, he’s content continuing to be a shitty person.

“This is why women are only good for breeding.” He groans, rolling his eyes.

“Holy shit. What the fuck is your problem?” You ask in disbelief and the words vomit from your lips before you can stop them.

He furrows his brows, turning his head to meet your gaze before eyeing you up and down. He makes a point to stop and stare at your tits and lips, not bothering to meet your eyes again.

“Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?” He seethes, “a wench like you needs to be put in her place,” he looks you over once again before his lips curl into a wicked smirk. “You’re decent enough looking. I guess I’d be willing to take one for the team to teach you a lesson.”

Fuck professionalism. This guy needs knocked down a peg or ten. “If I wanted a good lay, I’d visit Gojo. Hell, I bet you wouldn’t even measure up to Toji on your best day.”

“I can fuck whores like you ten times better than either of them could,” he spits back.

“I hear Gojo’s a generous lover.” Why bring Gojo into this, specifically? Just to stir the pot. Rile him up and piss him off, just as he’s done to you. Everyone knows the stories of the infamous playboy. Huge cock. Can go all night. Has a strict ladies first policy when it comes to getting off.

“I bet you don’t even know where the clitoris is.” He’s definitely the kind of guy who only cares about only his pleasure; it would come as no surprise if he’s never gotten a woman off before.

He sneers, “every single one of my servants comes crawling back for more.”

“Weird way to say cousins.”

He stares at you, fire burning in his eyes. Anyone else would probably think he looks shocked, and maybe he is, just a little. That a lowly window has the audacity to speak to a sorcerer this way, let alone the next head to one of the big three.

Shit. Are you gonna do this? Are you gonna challenge him so he’ll prove it?

Yes. Yes you are and you can literally feel the feminism ascending out of your body as you make up your mind.

Standing, you unbutton a few buttons from the top of your blouse to accentuate the swells of your breasts and loosen the knot on your ascot, slipping it over your head as you make your way over to Naoya, sliding it down his neck and tightening maybe a little too tight.

Leaning down, warm breath tickling the shell of his ear causing goosebumps to form, you whisper, “prove it.” He wastes no time in grabbing your free hand and placing it on his erection with a pleased smirk.

Of course he’s turned on. Probably thinking you’ll easily submit to him.

As you stroke his clothed cock, he lets out a quiet, satisfied moan as your other hand pulls the ascot a little tighter, no longer worrying if it’s too constricting.

Honestly, if he died, you wouldn’t care. Satisfying for you. Humiliating for him.

“Be a good boy and open wide,” he glares, clenching his jaw in a surprisingly quiet refusal. Letting go of the ascot, you grab him by the hair, forcing his head back until he opens just wide enough for you to gather saliva and spit it in his mouth.

“Swallow.” You demand, his eyes wide with shock. Once he regains his composure, he flips you over, slamming your back against the couch.

“I’m going to fuck your goddamn brains out,” he snaps, “and you’re going to regret spitting in my mouth like a filthy slut.” Naoya grabs one end of the ascot, pulling harshly until it comes untied, tossing it aside and you watch it float to the ground next to the chaise before turning your attention back to him.

There’s tension in the air, as the two of you stare at one another, swallowing thickly before your lips crash together, the sensation immediately sends a jolt between your thighs. The kiss is aggressive and greedy; more tongue and teeth than actual kiss and part of you is still shocked you’re going through with this.

As he pulls away, he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, hard enough to leave a bruise, still trying to prove his dominance over you. Then in a move that takes you off guard, he trails several nips and kisses down your neck and collarbone. While he does this, you lift your hips and pull your pencil skirt up, so he’s not tempted to rip it off, letting it pool at your hips. At this moment, you’re incredibly thankful you wore your lace bra and panties today, even if he doesn’t deserve to see them.

“Spread your legs,” he snarls, forcing them open on his own and slipping two fingers into your aching cunt, making you whimper and arch your back due to lack of proper preparation. He quickly pumps his fingers while angling them perfectly. You let out a quiet whine when he begins to stroke the spot inside that makes you see stars while his thumb grazes teasingly over your clit.

Guess he does know where the clitoris is after all.

“You try to act tough,” he brushes his lips against your cheek and jaw until he kisses a spot below your ear, “yet here you are, so clearly desperate for my cock like the slut you are,” he whispers before clamping down, biting, and sucking at the spot on your neck. Thrashing below him, you try to nudge his head away with your shoulder to get him to let go.

“No marks! Jesus Christ, I don’t want people to know I fucked you!”

He smirks against you, knowing he’s not going to let up, and bites down on the crook of your neck this time. Gasping, you grab him by the hair and pull him away before smacking him, hard, across the cheek as he lets out a loud moan.

“You fucking liked that?” You furrow your brows and narrow your eyes, surprised by that turn of events.

“Shut the fuck up!” He growls, his lips meeting and moving along yours again in an attempt to keep you quiet. And really, you don’t mind as it gets his misogynistic ass to keep quiet as well.

With your mouths busy, his fingers working their godforsaken magic and your hands in his hair, you’re building up for a crash. A tsunami. An unraveling of the greatest proportions… and then he removes his fingers, pulling away from you completely with a cunning grin spread across his stupidly beautiful face.

“Christ, Naoya, I didn’t even cum. How pathetic .” You spit, knowing he’s edging you on purpose for pissing him off, “you sure you can fuck better than Gojo? Because at this point I’m really doubting your skill.”

“You don-”

“Shut up and get undressed. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He stops and stares at you incredulously, “You’re the wo-”

“I’m not going to undress you. Do you want your dick sucked or not?”

Finally, finally , he closes his mouth and begins to undress from his kimono, as you take the opportunity to remove your own clothes as well.

Once the two of you are undressed, you push him onto the chair so he’s sitting; before lowering yourself to your knees, you take a moment to admire his body.

He’s leaner than you anticipated, and unbelievably toned – similar to a gymnast. Naoya has a pretty face, there’s no denying that, but having an equally pretty cock is just unfair. Standing painfully hard against his abdomen, the tip flushed red, already leaking precum. He’s average girth, but the length is impressive alone.

Based on his ears, you anticipated some sort of genital piercing, like a Jacob’s Ladder – something he could never pull off. But instead, he has a Prince Albert, which has you practically drooling at the sight.

However, that nice surprise is immediately negated by the intricate tribal tattoos with thick swirl patterns laying along one shoulder and down the left side of his chest. On the other arm lays a single thin barbed wire tattoo in the center of his bicep.

God . How incredibly douchey.

“Look at me.” You command as you sink between his legs, “you think this is where I belong, don’t you?” Grabbing his cock with a firm grip you stroke excruciatingly slow as he emits a loud moan and squirms beneath your grasp, “on my knees, between your legs. But don’t forget,” you give a small kitten lick over his tip, “I’m choosing to do this.”

You move a hand to squeeze his balls as you slide your lips over his tip and hollow your cheeks. As you expected, his hand immediately tangles into your hair, gripping tight. You have just enough time to relax your throat before he slams your head to meet his neatly trimmed groin.

As you gag and sputter with his length at the back of your throat, spit pools and dribble from your mouth, coating the lower half of his dick you’re unable to fit in your mouth. He tightens his grip, so tight, there’s no doubt he will have several ripped off hairs laced between his fingers by the time he finally lets go. He pulls back, just enough to give you a second to catch your breath before slamming you back down, nose to groin, repeatedly. Recklessly.

Tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as he lifts his hips to meet the back of your throat, where you’re sure he’s bound to leave bruises.

“Fuck, that’s good. This is what you were meant for.” He throws his head back, eyes closed relishing the feeling of taking control of the situation.

There isn’t a lot you can do in this compromising position, so you let your teeth graze his cock in a little act of defiance as he continues to force your head up and down. He lets out a mix of stifled moans and angry grunts at the feeling before pulling your mouth off of him, bringing your gaze to meet him.

“No teeth, bitch!” He spits before slamming your head back down his length, continuing to force you to deepthroat him with every thrust. After a few minutes, his thighs begin to shake and a strained groan leaves his lips as he bucks his hips up, causing you to choke as ropes of cum slide down your throat.

“You better swallow every last drop,” he pants, “a filthy whore like you should be grateful for getting to have Zen’in seed inside you.”

After you swallow around him, to the best of your abilities, he releases your head and you make your way to the surface gasping for air, working to recover quickly. At this point, he owes you several orgasms and you’re determined to get them.

You would lean up and kiss him right now, forcing him back on the sofa so you can ride his face, but he seems like the kind of guy who would relish the taste of his own cum – the taste of his precious Zen’in DNA. Grabbing your panties from the floor, you spit the remaining essence of him into them and toss them back down.

Standing, you place your palms on his shoulders and shove him onto the chaise, throwing one leg over his chest to straddle him.

“Why don’t you shut up, put your mouth to good use for once and try to make me cum this time.”

His eyes are bright and filled with equal parts rage and hunger as he grabs you, forcing you forward over his face. He wastes no time in pulling you down so his lips can connect with your pussy in a lewd, loud, wet kiss before slipping his tongue deep inside.

Naoya forces you down in the most awkward position; one leg folded, next to his face while the other is on the floor, helping balance yourself as you move your hips against his face, softly whining each time his nose gently grazes your clit.

He digs his nails into the fleshy part of your hips, you told him no marks earlier, and this is likely bruise; at least these can be easily hidden. While gripping tighter, he lifts you slightly to adjust himself beneath you to let his tongue trail around your clit. As you shudder, he latches on, focusing all of his attention into that one spot.

He’s not interested in exploring, like a lot of other guys, oh no. He found this spot and he’s going to stay there until you completely come undone for him. You’ll give credit where it’s due – and it is due. He’s a devil with his tongue.

He might be the devil himself, but that’s a note to take away for a different session.

As he obscenely sucks, you let out a series of high-pitched moans and continue to roll your hips on his face, your release fast approaching.

He chuckles at your neediness, the vibrations traveling through you, making your toes curl and the world comes crashing down as you bite your own lip, trying not to yell out profanities as you cum, drenching his mouth with your fluids as he laps around.

Naoya continues to hold onto your hips, preventing you from straying away as your legs shake and squeeze in around him, instinctively trying to suffocate him. He hums appreciatively of everything your body’s offered, likely boosting his already inflated ego, before loosening his grip, allowing you to move back to his chest to recover.

As he licks his lips, determined not to waste any of your essence, you scoot back further, the apex of your thighs resting on his hard dick. Teasing him, you roll your hips several times allowing yourself to grind on his length.

He groans, trying to grab your hips to lift you but you swat him away, set on maintaining your teasing, allowing the tip to brush against your entrance several times.

“Fuck! Just get on my cock already!” It was so nice when he was quiet while you were riding his face. Unfortunately now, his mouth isn’t busy doing the one good thing it could do.

Looking to the ground, you spot your discarded ascot and panties next to each other and get an idea. Leaning down, you grab the ascot first and gather his hands, swiftlet knotting the scarf around his wrists and lifting them over his head. There is an old radiator in your office next to the sofa, so you tie his hands to that.

“You stupid bitch, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He scowls.

Realistically, he could easily break out of this restraint if he wanted to, but despite his angry words, he makes no effort to move as you tug on the fabric, making sure it will hold.

“I liked it better when you didn’t talk,” you state calmly, leaning down and grabbing the spit and cum filled panties from the ground.

“You worthless brat! You’re go-” he’s cut off by the crack of your palm meeting his cheek, the sound drowned out by the deep groan he emits. You take the opportunity of his distraction to shove the defiled panties into his mouth. His eyes widen in disbelief once again as the rest of his groan is muffled.

“Much better,” you sigh with relief, knowing you won’t have to listen to him again until you decide to remove the gag. Or if he gets impatient and breaks the restraints, but that’s a thought for if it happens.

Lifting yourself, you grab his cock and place the tip at your entrance, allowing yourself to slowly sink down.

“ Fuuuuuck ,” you whine at the feeling of being stretched and filled until your plush ass meets his hips.

Naoya would probably be saying something right now about how your pussy feels so good, but instead he lets out several loud stifled sounds as his eyes roll to the back of his head. You don’t bother starting off slow, instead you chase the high you were denied from his hands earlier, ruthlessly riding his dick.

“Gonna use you like my own little fuck toy,” you grind your hips further into his, “how’s that make y-you feel, Zen’in? Hm?” You ask breathlessly, riding up and down his length, “does it make you f-feel worthless? Like less of a man?”

Looking him over, his pupils are blown, filled with lust and loathing as you roll your hips, finding the angle that provides you with the most pleasure. His cheeks are pink, extending across his nose to the tips of his ears, and down to the top of his chest. Lips are kiss swollen and black eyeliner smudged around his eye from sweat, hair sticking to his forehead.

Once you find your rhythm you decide to give another resounding slap to his other cheek, so both sides match as he grunts with pleasure. Letting your hands fall to his shoulders, he fucks into you as you drag your nails down his chest with each thrust, hard enough to leave marks, you’re sure.

Trailing your hands up your body to your breasts, you message them as your nipples harden, pinching and rolling them between your fingers. Naoya hums in delight watching intently while your slick coats his length, covering his balls.

As his cock rubs against the sensitive spot on your insides, your breath quickens and legs shake beneath you each time your clit brushes against his groin with every roll of your hips. It doesn’t take long for the waves of pleasure to course through your body.

He thrashes against the radiator forgetting his hands are tied as you cream on his cock for the first time, clamping around him so hard you might as well be trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

Which isn’t a lot, in your opinion.

“How do you like being the bitch for once?” You pant; this spurs him on to adjust his legs and pulls his arms, still connected to the radiator. He bucks his hips up several times eliciting several moans from you as his cock kisses your cervix in the most delicious way.

“Tell me, pretty boy, what is it you really want?” you question, genuinely wanting to know since he treats everyone like they’re beneath him. This is supposed to be a therapy session after all, so might as well see what you can get out of him, right?

He tries to speak, but it’s muted due to the panties so you remove them and toss them aside. He pants, trying to catch his breath as his hips piston hard and deep, punctuating each point.

“Someone to obey,” thrust , “and someone to ruin,” thrust .

You yelp with each of his thrusts, trying to make a mental note to remember his answer for a later session. You continue to erratically bounce on him, meeting each of his steady thrusts with a loud slap, skin on skin, filling your otherwise quiet workspace.

“Don’t cum,” he demands as he feels your pussy gripping around his cock.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” you shoot back, both hands on his chest as he continues to pump mercilessly into you until the coil in your stomach snaps and breaks, walls pulsating around him, vision blurred white as you cum around him.

The feeling of you clamping down causes him to bite his lip and arch his back; knowing he’s going to be cumming soon too, you quickly remove yourself from him sitting back on his thighs. His eyes widen as he looks at you like you’ve betrayed him – it’s bad enough you’re fucking him, but there’s no way in hell you’ll let him cum inside you.

You’ll never admit it to him, but he was a good fuck, maybe still not as good as Gojo would have been, but still good nonetheless, so you’ll let him cum.

“No way I’m gonna be stuck around you for years,” you explain as you grab his length, stroking vigorously until his eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out several deep strangled moans, pulling hard on the radiator, as his precious Zen’in seed covers his chest.

After you catch your breath, you remove yourself from his legs and search for your clothes on the floor. Finding the panties that are soaked in both your spit, you toss them into the trash under your desk; you’ll need to remember to empty that before you leave, so nobody accidently sees them.

“If you take anything away from this, it should be that you don’t need to be in charge of everything. You might be surprised just how freeing that can truly be.” You try to explain as you untie his hands; he continues to lay on the chaise, catching his breath rolling out his wrists, “you can use the bathroom over there to clean yourself and get dressed. Be back in five minutes for the rest of your session.”

“Fucking psycho bitch,” he mutters to himself as he begrudgingly stands and stalks off to the bathroom with his clothes while his cum drips from his chest down to his abdomen.

You decide to ignore his comment and choose to take a deep breath instead and get dressed too. After straightening your skirt and slipping your shoes back on, you take your seat across from the chaise once again.

When Naoya returns, seven minutes later, you note, he takes his seat. Looking him over, his cheeks are still tinged pink, hair more romantically tousled than dishevel-

Nope. Good god, get those thoughts out of your brain right now. This is not going to be a thing.

Sighing, you grab the legal pad from the coffee table between the two of you and click the top of the pen, ready to write. His session is over in about 20 minutes. Let’s see how painful we can continue to make this for him.

“So, Naoya, tell me about your mother.”

[charmedreincarnation]

hii maya!!! i have a success story and im so excited bc this is my first manifestation success story.

for context for everyone else, i was getting bullied at my workplace. my boss hated me and would mock me in front of people and my coworkers disliked me and disincluded me from things and talked behind my back. It was so bad and i was searching for another job instead even though this was so close to my house, the pay was good, the actual work was easy. etc. I told maya abt this and she was such an angel and would let me vent to her and gave me a lot of advice about manifesting.

I wish I could say that I took her advice and changed my life but I honestly struggled a lot. I rmbr crying every single night before going to work and constantly just dreading being there or the thought of having to be there.

But everytime I vented, maya would always tell me to just affirm while listening to theta waves as I was going to sleep so I tried to atleast do that. In hindsight this was a really big thing. I was recently looking into SATS and reading posts about how important what you do before sleeping is because you are super suggestible. I think crying every night made me keep manifesting that my job sucked and stuff whereas affirming that it was great helped to start changing that.

I also tried to ignore the bullying and just act like I was being treated correctly. Like one time my boss said that she wished she had hired someone else and before I would have said nothing and just gone home and cried but instead I just laughed, taking it as a joke, and said that I'll make sure to work hard so that she can be proud of hiring me.

Slowly over the course of 2 weeks things started to change. We got 2 new people added into the team and one of them sits next to me and is my friend and I talk to him a lot. My boss and coworkers are okay with me now, like we have nice small talks and I haven't been undermined in a while. I made an error and before it would have become a big issue and while I did get scolded slightly, it was more of a "be more careful when doing this" versus what I usually got which was "you are so stupid, why are you like this." I also made a lot of other friends at work and work is pretty fun! I look forward to going to work sometimes (not all the time bc I'd rather just be at home in bed) but yeah it has changed so much and I'm much happier.

i just want to thank you so much maya. you are such an angel and i genuinely appreciate you so much. i can't wait to come back to you with a void success story!!

I am beyond proud of you! Your Success is proof that you overcame everything and persevered. But I actually want to point out your reaction to your boss, and encourage everyone to follow suit. You quite literally laughed at the 3D which is what I would do metaphorically but I mean physically probably works better lol.

Regardless I’m happy for everything you’ve accepted as yours. I’m also glad this is only encouraging you to want to go farther and achieve your entire dream life, not just a good one you can tolerate. When I reached this stage I remember I had a thought like “well maybe I should just accept this” “or it’s not that bad now I guess so do I really need to continue or can I chill” and if you have to ask yourself that the answer is no and you know you deserve it all at the highest degree.

[crying-fantasies]

First gifts

Masterlist

He's lucky you aren't home.

He's really lucky to have put Sol in her crib pod, recharging peacefully like an angel while sucking on her crystal pacifier as Bob recharged next to her.

He is lucky to open the door and sense the absolute glee on his brother's EMF before it crashes on the bond, fast enough to make the decision of just getting the pit out of there, but Sunstreaker isn't lucky enough to turn faster than Sideswipe can catch him, dragging and sitting him in front of Steercharger who can only smile with real innocence by the big slag eating grin Sideswipe has on the faceplate.

"Our dear Junior has made the question", Sunstreaker tries to think of what in Unicron's name his brother is referring to, jumping slightly when his brother puts his unwashed servos on his shoulder armor, the water on it will wash the wax away but he can't say another bad word or you, somehow, will know.

Steercharger seems bashful, almost timid, and Sunstreaker fears the worst, "what?" maybe there was more bite and venom on his question by how his sparkling reacted, but he kind of senses it, Steer is in that age, and while not as eye catching as him, he knows that some mechs could glance at his sparkling with other intentions, "who is the fragger-"

"No one! No one, I swear!", Steer is has a hue of pink on his faceplates, Sides laughs at him.

"Oh bother of mine", his jabbing is obvious, "our kiddo isn't interested in anyone", he takes silence to finally let him go, "yet", oh, oh this Fragger, of course he would cross his circuits just to make fun of him.

Steer seems a little more brave once Sunstreaker's EMF calm down, having more courage to ask, "it's just, I was curious about the conjunx ritual", his big blue optics seem to sparkle with sincere curiosity and affection, "how was yours?"

Ah, Sunstreaker thinks with looming dread over him in the shape of his slag grinning brother, that question.

In any other occasion he would have the gall to tell his youngling all about it, teach him just like he taught him how to fight with a servo on his back strut or how to apply a decent amount of wax and cleanser on his faceplates (specially which one goes first), but if there is one thing he refuses to talk about is of the errors and mistakes of his past, mistakes that were his but also Sideswipe's fault to some degree.

"I've waited so long for this", Sides, somehow, got a metallic box out of his subspace, taking out three important things Sunstreaker believed he lost but no, the slagger has it all, "oh, Sunny here loved your mentor so much from the very beginning", the exaggeration is heavy on his glossa, mentioned bot made a pained face, having unnerving images supplied from his very own databank, how he very much tried to get rid of you and, by his own grimace, tried to put you in your place more than once, feeling a burning rage come to his younger self, "of course, humans have it a tad bit difficult with our culture you see, your mentor had a funny time realizing we're a package deal"

"You didn't say anything to begin with", he pushes Sides off, quickly doing a close up visual scan, no scratches, "very intelligent, go flash your lights to an organic, push up the EMF of a sealed youngling to the one that doesn't even have a proper sensor, see how long it takes to finally get an answer", Steer was pretty much familiar with his mentors rough pushing one another, so he didn't say anything when Streaker grabbed Sides by one of his structured audials, or his horn, like you called it. "worked well, uh? Almost 20 earthling years to even put the dots together and more than one gift in between like two messy younglings playing habsuit", finally letting go of his brother's audial he almost made him fall, Sunstreaker now was looking at their oldest, "Just so you know, Steer, you've to be clear with what you want, organic or not, learn a few things of where you're getting into or if you're really into that, and if you want to drag someone on it be sure to be in the same page to begin with".

Now, it was Sideswipe's turn to have a bad memory of his courting to you, not exactly knowing you had to cook whatever he gave you most of the time and remembering that one chance he got you a steak, supposedly what one of his fellow soldiers said would be one of the best gifts ever, what he didn't mention, or thought it wasn't necessary to mention, was that it had to be fresh and cooked, and obviously not floating on his subspace for a whole decacycle before finally presenting it to you.

So yeah, Hoist almost killed him when it was time to clean that, because Ratchet was sure to drag the whole Lost Light back from space just so he could hit Sideswipe's helm with a wrench for such stupidity, since Ratchet didn't know Sunstreaker didn't either, being in the same starship at the moment, but boy he would also done the same as the medic.

But it would never compare to the clash between his affection to you and Sunstreaker's bitter hatred and resentment, which only got worse when he tried to make his brother see that you're really something valuable to care for.

Steercharger glanced with curious and round optics, totally oblivious to the truth, "so you give gifts, right?", there was this little something on his vox, like expecting something to happen or come, "what were yours"

The oldest twin wanted to ask if he was referring to their gifts or yours, but his younger brother beat him to it, taking out a piece of old, wrinkled and colorless paper, "This", he put the little thing on the table like it was a great treasure, "this is the first gift your mentor gave me, right it isn't as great as the one I got for our ritual but...", maybe Sides was thinking of the past, a very younger you folding the paper in front of him after making it with diligence, innocent, oblivious of what were you doing and the weight it gave to his spark, oblivious of the warmth such little gesture flooded their bond with when you put the paper crane on Sideswipe's waiting servos as Sunstreaker tried to cut it out by force, sealing the feeling away with gritted denta as he tried to focus on other things.

There was happiness and also hatred on it, but Sideswipe still choose to keep the good about it even when his precious gift was soon to fall to pieces, "this little fella is the best".

Now both glitches looked at Sunstreaker, who was only looking at the open box, he wasn't happy about it, "so it was you who took it away", Sideswipe tried to fake innocence as his brother took the soft fabrics on his servos, your first gifts for him, the first ones always hold the most value in Kaon, where things were scarcely low, every courting or friendly gift was something to be grateful for

He didn't appreciate yours by his own stubbornness.

Sunstreaker can still remember, he thought so little of it, thinking that the color was pretty but almost launching it to the trashcan after hearing it came from an animal, weighting the pros and cons of even using it after realizing it was soft enough to don't scratch him, soft enough to just fall from him without resisting gravity like water made fabric, enough to keep you apart by the same fabric, not scorching to make you sweaty, not touching him even when Sideswipe tried to force you on him, he was thankful even when he didn't say it directly, bashfully realizing you got him two but also noticing that you only did it to keep your distance from him.

His digits pass over the stitches on it, remembering how you practically exiled him from the ritual, not really knowing, not even realizing in what Sides had dragged you into, it hurt, it hurt so much even when he denied himself the feeling, he was so close to shout you "how dare you?" as your own claims were know to him, you were daring enough that night to shout at him, to face him in place of Sideswipe, and maybe he should've listened, but Sunstreaker was only fragments of himself at the time, fragments that cut him, Hunter, you and Sides in between.

It cut his own gift, the first one you gave to him, shredded to pieces when he had to escape to exact his own objectives, not believing that you had it in you to even believe you could cut him out, his anger, stubbornness, hatred and silent pain flooded the bond and made Sideswipe the first bot knowing something was wrong as he felt himself choking on air during his recharge, servos gripping his chassis in pain just in time to register your shoutingand fear for the worst.

There were so many things he wanted to go back in time and change, make amends like you did as the needle put back together his gift in one piece before you offered it to him again, thinking he really liked the thing, which he did, Sunstreaker looked it as a he couldn't believe it was really happening, not believing you just accepted him back to the ritual, now totally aware of what it meant, aware what your actions were implying, "we can try, only if you want to", Sunstreaker was dumfounded, out of his element, recalling all the scrap he did to you, just to put the choice on him, asking what he wanted to do.

He took the fabric from your burned hands, holding them, firm but not hard, not letting go.

"Your mentor is a soft spark", Sides took him back from his harsh memories, filling his end of the bond with understanding as all Sunstreaker could do was hold the patched up blanket, telling himself that he didn't lose it as he feared, it was just his brother that took it without asking, he would have some words with him later, "gift are important, true, but is the feeling on it that matters most".

Steer had a face that seemed to get the idea of what was being expressed, his own servo inside the memory box and taking out something that wasn't good at his development stage, just to say, "so what is this?"

When you came back home, Bob welcomed you with a soft headbutt as you found Sunstreaker trying to choke Sideswipe by the neck, as Steercharger welcomed you with a exposing spicy photo of Sides on his servo, marked with his handwriting with a heavy red colored "ready to come back?", remembering he sent you one of those while you were working on the former Dead End.

Taking your key card back, you only exited the house, not really in the mood to explain.

[garricks4thwingqueen]

My New Pillow Part 2

   Word Count: 1382

Tigger warnings: NSFW mentions, Swearing

  synopsis: This is a continuation that was much requested for Dain Aetos X reader My New Pillow which can be found here: Part 1                                          

   

Part 2 

                                                       Dain’s POV 

   I soaked in the warmth of the shower. God I loved that woman and what she did to me. How she made me feel. How she made me feel like home, how she made me feel that I actually belonged somewhere and was actually capable of loving someone or learning to love someone and truly care about them. This is a new side of you, I like it. Cath cut into my mind. I rolled my eyes mentally at the male red swordtail. Yeah you also seem a little flirty yourself lately.  I chidded back, turning off the steaming water and reaching for my towel. I don’t know what you're talking about, this dragon runs solo. I could have sworn he had a snarl at the end of that as I smirked right so you and Avonmora are absolutely not flirting or whatever dragons call it. All I got in response was a huff as I was walking back towards her room. My girls room. “Aetos.” Garrick greeted which slightly caught me off guard as I was madly in love with his little sister and he still didn’t know yet. “Tavis.” I said swiftly with a nod as we continued our opposite ways. I was now thinking about all the ways that Garrick could possibly figure out to kill me later after he finds out; probably several ways involving Xaden for the hell of it. I made sure no one was around as I reached for the door knob that was already turning. “How did you?” I asked when closing the door behind me. “Your audible sigh gave you away.” Y/N smirked. 

                                                  Y/N’s POV

     “Why the long face my Great Dain?”  “I was just thinking about the million and one ways your brother and Xaden are going to come up with to murder me after we tell them.” I giggled softly, wrapping my arms around Dain’s waist. “You really think they are your biggest threat?” I smirked. “I- ugh I- yes?” Dain stuttered and you couldn’t help but still be in a fit of giggles. “Oh my sweet sweet innocent Wingleadrer.” “Who else should I be oh-” You were now in a laughing fit as you noticed Dain’s face drop to the tenth degree as it clicked inside of his mind that indeed your best friend would be a bigger concern to him amongst the rebellen bunch. “How could you forget about sweet sweet Imogen, my love?” For a split second you could have sworn Dain Aetos actually looked speechless. “I- I don’t know, she’s not going to break my neck is she?” “I can’t make any promises but I can promise I’ll be right here by your side no matter what anyone else thinks about us. I love you.” “I love you too.” He said softly pulling you in closer to him and resting his chin on top of your head and taking in your touch and scent.  “Shall we head down to the dinning hall?” “There’s an Aretian special pastry you're gonna love; it’s like the berry tart at Basgiath but a thousand times better. Hold my hand?” Dain grabbed onto your outstretched and gave it a squeeze. Even if you were both ready or not to relieve your secret you both deserved to catch a break. 

                                                  Garrick’s POV

 We sat around the dining table at Riorson house. A table it had been so long since all of us had sat around it. I took a second to take in the odd group before us; Imogen on my left, her hand resting on my knee under the table, then Violet, Rhiannon, Xaden and even Ridoc and Sawyer; the only two people that were missing were. I almost choked on my tartlet as I looked up and saw Dain Aetos’s arm wrapped around my little sister as they each had a plate in their hands Y/N coming to sit on my right and directly next to her. Imogen slapped my back hard “Close your fucking mouth Tavis you’ll let a bug fly in.” I closed my mouth as Y/N greeted me with a “Good morning my handsome big brother, you should listen to Imogen more.”  Across the table Xaden gave a smug look and a nod towards the new couple; “what's up with this?” He gestured between my little sister and Dain. She shrugged “Same thing that's up with you and Violet and Imogen and Garrick.”  “I- I-.” I sputtered, it's not like Imogen and I had been exactly in the open but thanks to my little sister and her best friend we now were.  “Oh come on. You don’t think Immi and I don’t talk.” “I no, I know you do but seriously Y/N; You and Aetos? His-” “His what? The enemy? The enemy’s son? Dangerous?” She snapped. “I no that’s not what I-” “Then what was it Garrick?” “I just don’t want you getting hurt. He has betrayed our whole group before.” I said honestly. 

                                                 Y/N POV

    Your boil was boiling. “He's here isn’t he? Fighting for our side?  You and every fucking one else at this table knew what happened these past few months wasn’t Dains fucking fault. It may have been his father’s but not Dain’s.” You paused a new entire wave of emotion ran through a whole new desire for Dain on a different level. You looked towards Dain trying to stay strong and finish your train of thought when you knew he had that same lust and desire in his eyes. Oh god’s their fucking you thought. Cath and Avonmora were fucking and you and Dain had just. Yes we have mated Dragons, hurry up and finish so I can fucking take you. Dain said through your mind with lust and desire. Everyone was now staring at you. You couldn’t help but look towards Xaden knowing he had felt the same feelings several times. Given the smug look on his face you could tell he was reading yours pretty damn clearly. “Get used to Dain being around because I love him and not his father, get used to it and I know you will because you're my big brother and you love me.” Dain didn’t let you finish talking or breakfast as he grabbed your wrist gently excusing you both with some lame excuse that you both had to shower or something. When all you both wanted to do was fuck each other senseless until Cath and Avonmora stopped fucking each other. “Fucking mated dragons.” You heard Xaden snicker; you didn’t hold back your signet as you focused on the glass of Xaden’s water as you and Dain walked away. “Hey I was fucking drinking that!” You heard Xaden snickering as you knew your favorite trick with water since you got your signet last year had worked. “Mated Dragons?” was the last thing you heard your brother groan as you and Dain rounded the corner. “How did Riorson know?” He has mated dragons, remember?” “Right.” 

   Dain shoved your bedroom door open and pushed you onto your childhood bed and all the two of you did for the rest of the afternoon until your dragons finished their own fucking was fuck. You couldn’t get enough of him. Enough feel of your safetynet, your forever, the person that you were now tied with until one of you died, your everything.

           It had to have been several hours later when both you and Dain and your Dragons had finally finished. You two had best learn to shield. Cath snickered into both of our minds. “I could get you used to this though.” Dain said contentedly.’ You hummed in agreement as you nuzzled into him and laid your head onto your favorite pillow. “Me too. My favorite pillow.” Dain chuckled at your words and your yawn. “Good night my love.” He said softly tracing the lines of your rebellion relic which was oddly soothing. “Good night my Great Dain. I love you.”  “I love you to my favorite rebel.” He yawned as he kissed your forehead. Goodnight our sweet riders. Both Cath and Avonmora said into your minds as you nuzzled in closer to Dain if that was even possible. Indeed, you could get very, very used to this.

[brunette-barbie4562]

Uncharted (Duff McKagan X OC)

Summary: Unsure of her next steps in life, Carreen Joy "CJ" Thompson finds herself taking a job working under the Guns N' Roses bassist Duff McKagan during the Not in the Lifetime... Tour. She faces the fast-paced and foreign world of rock n' roll, touring, and groupies, as well as blossoming taboo feelings for her boss.

-

Chapter three is here :) There is a lot of dialogue in this one and a flashback. Let me know what you think!

Trigger Warnings: Child abuse, drug use, homophobia

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3

May 2017

Conrad Dublin Hotel / Dublin, Ireland

CJ stood by the entryway of the hotel room, unsure of what to say or do as Axl beamed at her. His red hair was cut short, compared to the long straight hairstyle she had seen him with as a child. He looked casual in a pair of torn blue jeans and a graphic T-shirt, which helped her relax about her own laidback appearance. The room was a large suite and looked to have multiple rooms. She had walked into the living room area. She felt very put on the spot and smiled shyly back. He stood up and moved to hug her. As awkward as she was feeling, she readily accepted the hug, looking for some sense of familiarity in a foreign environment. He smelled lightly of cologne. When he pulled away, he said,

“It’s so good to see you CJ, it’s been so many years. Come sit, let’s talk.” He offered her the second armchair, opposite the one he had been sitting in. “Do you want anything? Water, tea, coffee? How was your flight? Any issues?” CJ opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure which question to answer first.

“I’m uh- I’ll just take some water, thanks.”

“Sparkling, or no?” She had to think for a moment to process what he had said. She didn’t think she had ever had sparkling water.

“Regular is fine.” He reached into a mini fridge and pulled out a water bottle and handed it to her. Beta had disappeared into another room, leaving them space and time to talk. She remembered the second part of his question and said “The flight was good, no issues. Just a quick layover in JFK.” He had taken a seat in the second armchair, sipping on a cup of coffee.

“And your pick up at the airport went well?” He looked at her with genuine concern. Other than her aunt and her aunt’s girlfriend, CJ had never had someone act so concerned over her.  

“Ya, it went well.”

“Good, I’m excited you are here.” He took another sip of his coffee. “You may not know this, but your aunt was a great help to me back in the day.” CJ smirked at the thought of some of the stories her aunt had told her and said,

“I know a little bit.”

“Your aunt has kept me up to date on you and your studies. I know you’ve been thinking about going back to school.” CJ had not expected him to ask about her schooling.

“Ya, I’m just not sure about it. Graduate school is such a commitment and I’ve been trying to weigh the pros and cons. I’ve been out of school for a few years now and I feel like I need to decide. I’ve wanted to work in the mental health field for most of my life and most of those positions require a master’s degree.” He smiled at her with that familiar bright white smile that she remembered from so many years ago.

“Well, you can spend at least the summer working with us and think about it, make some money, I want this arrangement to be perfect.” He put his drink down and laced his fingers together, leaning back thoughtfully. “Ever since your aunt gained custody of you, and even before that time, we spoke frequently about you. Time and different circumstances have kept me from visiting in person, but I feel like I’ve watched you grow up from afar. Mindy is family to me, which means you are family.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “You and I are very alike in our history and the fact that you are wanting to help others means a lot to me.” She sat in silence and did not dare interrupt him. “I’m not sure what you know about me or the others.” It wasn’t until he gave her a questioning look that she realized he wanted her to respond.

“Oh, uh, not much to be honest. I mean I’ve heard your music growing up with my aunt obviously and I love it.” CJ was somewhat more aware than she was letting on, not wanting to seem eager. She was not comfortable enough to tell him that as a child, she had spent her nights lying in a cold van or a roach infested bed listening to Guns N’ Roses on a CD player on repeat at a high volume, either to drown out screaming or to try to feel some connection to the aunt she desperately wished she could go live with on the other side of the country.

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to familiarize yourself,” he said with a soft smile. “You have a few days before our first show. It’s late now, you’ll meet the others tomorrow.”

“Will I be spending most of my time with you and Beta?”

“You’ll see us often, especially Beta. I don’t leave my room much when we are at hotels, it can get chaotic. So, she does most of my errands for me.” CJ felt a twinge of confusion. If she was supposed to be an assistant, it seemed that Beta had already filled that role for Axl. He saw her perplexity and said, “You’ll be working alongside our bassist, Duff. His assistant had to leave unexpectedly for a family emergency and won’t be back anytime soon.” CJ could not remember which one Duff was and tried to think back to the old pictures she had seen of the band in her aunt’s house. “You’ll like him, he’s a good guy, not an ass. He has some daughters you’d probably enjoy meeting. Younger than you, but whenever they’re here there aren’t many other girls or women around.”

“Don’t forget Melissa and Meegan.” Beta called out from the other room, making CJ slightly jump.

“Ya, them too, they’ll enjoy having you along.” He reached over to an end table and picked up a folder. He opened it and pulled a key card out of it, handing it to her. “This is your room key, we are all on this floor, your room is 803 just down the hall. Your bags should already be in there.” He handed her the folder and said, “This week’s schedule is in there, up until we leave for the next show in Spain. Duff may have other additional things going on that aren’t on there, but this is the overall schedule for everyone.”

CJ quickly scanned the paper, feeling the creeping sensation of being overwhelmed. Axl must have seen it in her face and said, “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to meet him tomorrow and go over everything, but for the rest of the night,” he waved his hand in the air, “go relax, order some room service, and get comfortable, sleep-in late tomorrow.” She shut the folder and slipped it into her backpack. “Just text me when you’re awake and I can arrange for you and Duff to meet.” She pulled out her phone and had him add his phone number. When he was done, she stood up and hoisted her backpack up. While she still wasn’t completely understanding everything and needed time to process, she could feel the gravity of the situation and the opportunity she was being given. She was almost a little disappointed that she would not be working as Axl’s assistant. She had been there for about 30 minutes, and she could already sense his eclecticism and the intensity of his character, as well as his genuine care and concern for her. She never had a father figure in her life, or at least a good one that had stuck around.

“Thank you for everything,” she said, with a smile. Beta had opened the door for her, and she turned to leave.

“And CJ,” she turned back to him as he called after her. “Don’t be afraid to come hang out when you have free time. Like I said, you and your aunt are family to me. I want to get to know you.” At that, she grinned, felt tears come to her eyes, and her heart swelled.

“Definitely.”

-

Back in her room, CJ sat on the bed, still in somewhat of a daze. She had wiped the tears from her eyes. Her emotions had snuck up on her, as they usually did when somebody other than her aunt showed her a high level of affection or kindness. Even with extensive trauma therapy as a child and teen, it was not something she had been able to shake.

CJ let her backpack slide off her as she looked around. It was a large hotel room, not a multi-room suite like Axl’s, but still larger than a typical hotel room, or at least the ones she had been in. She stood up and walked over to the bathroom entryway, switching the light on. There was a beautiful garden-style tub that she suddenly could not get into fast enough. She turned the faucet to the highest heat possible to let it fill up as she stripped, tripping over her own feet as she pulled her shoes and pants off.

As CJ was about to step into the semi-filled tub, her phone began to ring, and she could see Mindy’s name flash across the screen. She picked it up, realizing she had forgotten to text her that she had made it in one piece.

“Are you alive?”

“Yes, I’m alive,” she said, “I just got to my room.”

“I was getting ready to text Axl and see where you were. Michelle and I were worried you know?” CJ heard Michelle, her aunt’s girlfriend, call out to her in the background.

“Well, I’m fine, everything went fine.” Before her aunt could speak CJ said, “You never told me you were so close with Axl Rose.”

“I thought you knew that.”

“I knew you were friends but he’s acting like I’m his niece or something. Talking about how we are like family. I was just surprised is all, I was not expecting such a grand welcome. Felt like he was rolling out a red carpet and the last time I saw him in person was over 20 years ago.” Mindy was silent on the other end and CJ thought maybe the line had gone dead. “Hello?”

“He’s had a hard time with his mental health.” Her aunt’s tone had dropped an octave. “I was there for him in some of his worst moments, Carreen. For a long time, I was always worried he wouldn’t make it. When he began touring and I moved away from Sunset, we didn’t see each other in person, but he’d often call in distress, needing help.” Throughout her childhood and teen-hood, CJ had never inquired about her aunt’s evening phone calls with the vocalist. “At one point, in fall of ‘96, he offered me a job to come work for him and live in LA, but I couldn’t at that time. I was at consumed with trying to track you and your mom down after she had fled. I had spent years setting up a stable life and home here in Redding in hopes of gaining custody, saving money for a lawyer and a private investigator. You were my priority, he understood that. Fortunately, he had Beta to support him in person.” CJ let her aunt’s words process and could only say,

“Wow.”

“He was a great help to me too. When you came to live with me and I had won custody, I thought I was over the hump. I didn’t realize there would be so much more. I hadn’t thought about it, I was just so happy to finally have you safe.” CJ understood that her aunt meant her PTSD. “I thought my love, safety, and warmth would be enough. But I was wrong. I didn’t know how to handle some of it, even with the professionals I had to help. I didn’t know what it was like for you. But he knew. He gave me the insight I needed to help you in the way you needed. He knew what it was like to grow up that way.” Her aunt’s words were sombering. She had processed much of her trauma in therapy over the years, so much so, that her PTSD symptoms were mostly dormant. Residual sensory hypersensitivities, some self-esteem issues, and the occasional nightmare was all that she dealt with anymore. But she had been unaware of the fact that her aunt had struggled so much in the beginning. She should have figured, but she had never thought about it.

“Well, that makes sense. He seemed to know a lot more about me then I had expected.”

“I’m going to tell you something that you cannot tell him that you know.”

“Ok.”

“I told you that your financial aid had covered all your college expenses, that wasn’t true. When Axl found out you were going to college for psychology, he paid for the entire four years.” CJ stood in stunned silence. “He insisted. He has no children of his own and he already felt invested in your upbringing, after all the help he gave me in the beginning. But he didn’t want anyone to know, he doesn’t like recognition for things like that.”

“Damn, next you’re gonna tell me he’s my dad.”

“No,” Mindy said with a laugh. “Trust me, your mom was nowhere near Sunset in 1988.” CJ had stopped wondering about who her father was a long time ago, she doubted her mother had even known. Now that the seriousness of the conversation had been broken, Mindy asked, “So, did he set you up in a nice room?”

“It is really nice,” said CJ, “We talked for a bit, he told me to sleep in tomorrow and then I’ll meet everyone else.”

“He doesn’t already have a fuck ton of work for you to get through,” said Mindy jokingly.

“No actually I’m not working under him, I’ll be working as an assistant for a guy named Duff.” She heard Mindy scoff.

“Duff? He didn’t tell me it was Duff who needed an assistant.” She could practically hear Mindy rolling her eyes through the phone. CJ laughed in amusement at her aunt’s annoyance.

“Why what’s wrong with him?”

"Nothing, he's just-" Mindy paused and didn't complete her thought. "He's sober now with a family, so I'm sure he's different."

"I was afraid you were gonna tell me he was a prick."

"No, he won't be to you. I'm sure you'll do fine with him." Mindy paused before saying, "Or you call me, and I'll take care of him for you."

“Well, that was like 100 years ago,” said CJ with a joking tone.

“I’m not that old, don’t you age me up like that.” said Mindy playfully.

“I’m hoping to catch onto things quickly for him, I don’t want to be a drag.”

“You will, just don’t forget to enjoy yourself too.”

“I’ll try.”

“Ok, well I’m gonna head over to the office to get some work done. Michelle and I are taking off Thursday to go down the coast for a little vacation, so I have some things to finish up before then. Especially now since DUFF has hijacked my trusty office assistant.” She emphasized Duff’s name with a hint of annoyance that made CJ smile.

“Ok sounds good, I’m gonna settle in and maybe order some food. I’ll text you before I go to bed. Love you.”

“Love you too.” CJ set her phone down on the bathroom counter as the call ended. Her conversation with her aunt had resonated within her. She hadn’t known things had run so deep between Mindy and Axl, but it made everything make sense.

CJ was suddenly aware of the cold air on her naked body and the tub nearly running over. She jumped to shut off the faucet.

-

After her bath, it had taken CJ an agonizing 30 minutes to decide what she wanted to eat from the room service menu. There were so many good options, and she was painfully aware of the expense of everything. She knew it was covered, but she felt herself weighing the price of everything as she selected what she wanted. If they were in America, she’d be able to go across the street and grab some Subway or maybe Chipotle, but she wasn’t about to leave the hotel in an unknown country to try to order something cheaper elsewhere. Additionally, all she had eaten for the past 16 hours was airport food and she needed something substantial to balance her stomach out. CJ’s growing hunger overtook her moral hang-ups about the expense of everything, and she finally settled on an appetizer of salmon gravlax, butternut squash ravioli for her meal, and crème brulee for dessert.

While waiting for food, CJ lay on the bed and flipped through television channels, not finding anything that piqued her interest. Instead, she took out her phone and decided to do some Googling. She first googled “Guns N’ Roses” and several pictures popped up. She pressed on the first one, which looked like it was from the 80’s. She immediately identified Axl Rose, front and center of the group, with his long red hair. Which one was her boss. She scrolled over onto another picture, which was much more familiar to her. It was a photo of the band, all sitting on a rug together, with Axl standing up on the right. It was the picture that was on the back of the Appetite for Destruction CD case her aunt had gifted her so many years ago. The CD and a CD player were the last things she had been given by Mindy before her mother had decided to flee California to avoid Children Protective Services.

_

July 1995

Mindy’s House / Redding, California

A 6-year-old CJ trembled in excited anticipation in the backseat of her mother’s little four door sedan as it cruised down a familiar wooded backroad. It was a hot 90-degree day in the dead of summer. CJ had been waiting for several months to see her aunt Mindy and return to her house in beautiful rural northern California. Her mother had been telling her they would go visit her aunt “soon.” She always told her “soon.” CJ was never sure how soon “soon” would be.

It had been about 4 months since they had last visited her aunt. CJ missed the days where she and her mother had lived with her aunt. They had lived with Mindy for about six months back in 1994. CJ had loved it. She had gotten to go to school, had all the food she wanted, and slept in a quiet, safe, and warm house. She didn’t have to wonder when her next meal would come or where she would sleep, listen to fighting or screaming, or tip toe around her explosive mother. The arrangement had gone badly when her mother and aunt had begun to fight about her mother’s increasing drug use, her lack of attention to CJ, and tendency to steal money to buy more heroin. It wasn’t long after that her mother had decided to move in with her new boyfriend in Sacramento. He had kicked them out recently, and now they were back to couch surfing and staying in her mother’s car. CJ was hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would get to stay this time. She often wished that her aunt was her mom.

The car turned off the main paved road onto a dirt road and CJ sat up higher in her seat to get a better look out the window. There were a few other homes scattered alongside the roadway and it was a five-minute drive to the end of the road where her aunt’s house was. The trees thinned on the right and finally opened up to an expansive field. The road curved along the edge of the trees, all the way up to her aunt’s light blue ranch-style home at the end. The house faced the rolling field and backed up to the forest.

As the car pulled up to the house, her aunt Mindy stepped out the front door, grinning widely. The car had barely come to a stop when CJ opened the door and jumped out. She ran to her aunt, who picked her up and held her in a tight hug. CJ hugged her back as best she could.

“I missed you, auntie.”

“I missed you too sweetheart, very much.” Her aunt gently set CJ back down. CJ’s mother approached the two slowly, a pinched look of annoyance on her face. Mindy’s smile disappeared as she looked up at her sister and her tone changed.

“Heather, good to see you.” Unable to contain herself, CJ couldn’t help but blurt out,

“Can we stay with you this time? I don’t like sleeping in the car. I want to stay here.” There was a flash of distress on Mindy’s face before she smiled softly at CJ and said,

“We’ll talk about it later. For now, why don’t you run inside and grab some cookies. I just took them out of the oven for you.” Her focus now on cookies, CJ gasped and darted in the house, leaving her mother and aunt in a tense silence.

-

After she had her fill of cookies, CJ wandered around her aunt’s home, going from room to room. It was your average middle class American home, but to CJ it was like a beautiful, quiet, and clean safe haven full of soft furniture, an abundance of toys for her to play with, and the delicious smell of cookies. She looked out the window at the beautiful rural landscape. The rolling green fields went on for a mile before dissolving into a distant tree line. It was a sunny day, and beyond the trees, she could see distant mountains. Everything was so quiet and peaceful here compared to Sacramento. She was eager to get outside and play in the field. The tall grass was the same height as her and it gave her a sense of shelter and peace to lay in it and look up at the deep blue sky. Additionally, there were so many little critters and insects for her to observe and investigate. Her focus was broken as she heard her aunt call out to her from the kitchen. She turned away from the window and saw her aunt standing in the doorway, holding a wrapped gift.

“I just thought I’d give you your birthday gift. I know it’s a little late, but I didn’t get a chance to give it to you last time.”

“What is it!?” Her aunt sat down on the couch and held out the package to her.

“Go ahead and open it.” CJ quickly climbed up onto the couch with her aunt and made quick work of the wrapping paper. Based on the box, she quickly recognized that it was a CD player. She had never been gifted anything so expensive or special. “Here, this goes with it.” Her aunt pulled out a small CD box. “This is my friend’s music; I hope you’ll like it.” CJ could not read the words on the front, but the picture depicted a cross with five skulls on each end. It could be any type of music, it didn’t matter. CJ finally had something that was all hers. She watched intently as her aunt opened the box for her and plugged the headphones in. The moment was broken when she heard her mother clear her throat. CJ looked up to see her standing in the doorway, watching them with disdain. CJ felt cold fear. That look was usually followed up with a beating. She jumped when she felt her aunt run a hand softly down the back of her head and say,

“Why don’t you take it out into the yard and give it a listen. I’ll get dinner started.” Never one to question adults, CJ nodded and hopped off the couch and scurried out the back door, happy to be away from her mother’s glare.

-

Mindy waited for her niece to close the back door before she rounded on her sister. She wanted to leap from the couch and hit her, to show her the same treatment she had been giving to CJ. But instead, she took a deep breath, calmly standing up. If this was going to work, she needed to stay calm and collected. She could not lose her cool. Her niece’s life was at stake. She cleared her throat and said,

“Why don’t we go sit down and talk, catch up. It’s been awhile.” Heather didn’t respond and continued to glare at her. Mindy didn’t wait for her response and began to walk towards the kitchen, her head down.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Heather hissed at her. Mindy paused at her sister’s words, thinking carefully about the best way to respond. “This stupid little act you’re putting on. Auntie of the year. We shouldn’t have come. I knew this would happen.” Her sister turned to leave the room and Mindy looked up at her.

“Where did the bruises around her neck come from Heather?” Her sister stopped in her tracks but did not look at Mindy.

“It’s none of your goddamn business. You’re not her parent.” There was a moment of silence and Heather finally looked up to meet her gaze. Mindy looked her in the eyes, unafraid of her sister’s erratic behavior. She was reminded of how alike they were in appearance. The same long wavy dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, heart shaped face structure. However, the healthy fullness in her sister’s face had been lost to drug addiction. Her eyes were sunken and cold, she was pale, and her face was covered in scars and acne from prolonged drug abuse. A stranger on the street would no longer peg them as siblings, even though it had been obvious when they were both healthy. Her sister continued to speak, “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing here. The cute little house, a stable job for the first time in your life, you’re not taking her.” Mindy’s entire plan to gently approach her sister about relinquishing custody was blown. Since her niece’s birth, Mindy had tip toed around her sister, realizing how poor of a parent she would be. She had initially tried to be optimistic, hoping Heather would pull it together for her child, but it quickly became abundantly clear that she wouldn’t. Mindy had not wanted to lose access to CJ, but she could no longer sit and watch Heather neglect and abuse her. Mindy took a deep breath and said,

“I’m not doing anything Heather; I want you two to come here and have a safe place to start over, without the drugs and the revolving door of men.” She looked at her sister imploringly, wanting to plead and beg. “CJ should be in school, spending time with other kids, you should be happy and healthy here with me. I want things to be how they were when we were kids. Do you remember how we were? We told each other everything.”

“Bullshit,” said Heather, “You were always mom’s favorite. I was always doing something wrong. Mom never let me forget it. And now you’re still trying to continue to be miss perfect. I am raising CJ how I see fit, it’s none of your business. I’ll do what I want with her, she belongs to me.” Mindy moved closer to her sister, and gently took her hands in her own.

“Please Heather, please stop this. Come stay here. Let me get you the help you need. I’ll pay for whatever you and CJ need. Just stop using, it’s made you a stranger. I love you two so much.” Heather roughly pulled away from Mindy and continued towards the door.

“We are leaving, this was a mistake, I knew it.” Mindy felt a flare of anger. She did genuinely care for her sister, but her primary concern was her niece. In a bitter voice, she called out after her.

“Where are the bruises from Heather? What’s your excuse this time? You can’t tell me that child “fell” on the playground, or she did it to herself. I know you have her in and out of drug houses. If you didn’t do it to her one of your boyfriends did.” Her sister turned and exploded in anger.

“You don’t know anything you stupid dyke!” Mindy was unbothered by the slur and against her better judgment, she quickly stalked over to her sister, getting up in her face, looking down on her. Mindy was 6 foot tall compared to her sister’s smaller 5’6”.

“You can give me custody, or I’m calling CPS. You are abusing her, exposing her to strangers who could hurt her. It’s a miracle she isn’t dead already. That child should be in school. At her age, it’s illegal that she’s not, and the state will investigate for that reason alone, never mind the bruises and malnourishment. I have documentation of your abuse and neglect from day one, don’t think you can win this battle Heather.” She expected her sister to physically attack her. But instead, Heather smirked and said,

“You call CPS and hire as many fancy lawyers as you want and see how that goes for you. You’ll never see us again.”

-

CJ was in her own world, sitting cross legged in the backyard, messing with her new CD player. She had just begun to listen to the first song on the CD when she felt a hand grab her by the upper arm and abruptly pull with enough force that she was lifted into the air. She screamed, clinging to her CD player and CD case so she did not lose it. She heard her mother’s angry voice.

“Let’s go, we are leaving!” It took a moment for CJ to realize what was happening. Her mother was roughly dragging her towards the car, and she would not be staying with her aunt. “Say goodbye, you’ll never see your aunt again.” CJ screamed and cried, fighting against her mother’s pull.

“NO, I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE! LET ME STAY!” She began to scream for her aunt to help her as her mother had pulled open the back door of the car and was trying to stuff her inside. CJ held all of her limbs out against the frame of the car door like a starfish, in an effort to prevent her body from being shoved in. A cold shot of panic and adrenaline had set in, and CJ was able to briefly shove her mother backwards. However, it was not quick enough. As she tried to dart away, she was rag dolled and disoriented by a hard punch to the face. Her vision was blurry, and she could no longer summon any physical strength in her small body to fight back. She could hear her aunt screaming in horror and protest from somewhere nearby. She was aware of being roughly laid down in the backseat of her mother’s sedan. By some miracle, she could still feel the gifts her aunt had given her clutched in one of her hands. The driver’s door opened and shut with a slam and the car was suddenly moving abruptly. CJ caught a glimpse of her aunt’s tear streaked and screaming face in the car window. She could hear her hands clawing and pulling at the locked door handle in an effort to save her. But it was too late, her mother accelerated, and her aunt’s face was gone from the window. She tried to sit up but could not. Her head was pounding in pain, and she felt faint. She could do nothing but lay there and slip into unconsciousness.

-

May 2017

Conrad Dublin Hotel / Dublin, Ireland

A sharp knock on the hotel door distracted CJ enough to break her out of her trip down memory lane. She quickly closed the safari app on her phone. She got up and opened the door to find her dinner waiting on a tray. She quickly brought it inside, not wasting any time opening the trays and chowing down. The food was good, perhaps some of the best she’d ever had. She got halfway through her meal before she realized she had not ordered a drink. Not wanting to mess with the mini bar, she decided to go search for a vending machine.

-

Duff had finished his FaceTime call with Grace and lay back on his bed for a moment in his silent hotel room, taking a breath. His divorce two years ago had put an initial strain on his relationship with his daughters. Things had slowly grown back to normal, and they spoke on FaceTime most nights, especially he and Grace. Grace had always seemed to identify more closely with him, and the divorce had affected her harder than it had Mae. The girls had yet to join him on tour and trying to coordinate a time they could both come out was difficult with all of their activities. As amicably as things had ended, he still felt a sense of guilt over his daughters that he could not shake. He loved being a father, and his girls were his pride and joy.

The room felt warm, and he sat up to get himself a cold glass of water, not knowing if the room was actually hot or his anxiety was setting in. He got a glass and filled it and then searched for ice. When he realized he didn’t have any he remembered an ice machine at the end of the hallway. Duff listened at the door and couldn’t hear anyone outside. As much as he appreciated fans, he wasn’t looking to run into anyone tonight. He cracked the door to see no one out in the hall and decided to walk out. A small room at the end of the hallway was where he located the ice machine. He was surprised to see a woman standing at the vending machine, her back to him. Her long, thick, curly, brown hair hid much of her from view. He stuck his glass under the dispenser and pressed. The machine roared to life and the young woman jumped in surprise. She turned to look at him with a flash of fear across her delicate features. He was struck at her beauty; heart-shaped face, dark brown vixen eyes, light pink full lips, taller, and a killer hourglass figure that couldn’t be hidden under her sweatpants and cropped T-shirt. She was large-chested, and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t appear to be wearing a bra. Not wanting to look at her too long, he smiled and said,

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She gave him a small smile and turned back to the vending machine. She leaned down and grabbed her soda out of the slot before walking back up the hallway. He couldn’t help but glance at her one more time, admiring her. Don’t be a fucking creep McKagan, she’s gotta be half your age. Maybe if it was twenty years ago. He had a rule about keeping partners at an age-appropriate level. He didn’t want to be seen as one of those “old creepy rockstars” who solely went after young women. Since his divorce, he had fooled around a bit, but hadn’t been serious with anyone. He hadn’t dated in so long; he wasn’t sure he knew how to anymore. He kept his high libido satisfied and that’s as far as it went. Duff finished getting his ice and headed back to his room, trying to put the young woman out of his head.

[h8ani]

Crush

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x Reader

Anime: Naruto

Word count: 1049

Warnings: No warnings, fem!reader

Prompt: “Oh my god! Him? You like him?”

Having a crush on someone is like feeling butterflies in your stomach when you finally see them for the first time in the day. You get giddy and suddenly it’s hard to not smile when they’re standing in front of you. It’s hard not thinking about them, you think about him when you wake up, when you eat lunch even when you’re sleeping. You find yourself craving his presence, even if he wasn’t talking to you, just him being around is enough.

That’s what having a crush is supposed to feel like.

You on the other hand wish you can dump these feelings in a bottle and have it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

On top of thinking about him constantly, which is starting to make you go a bit insane you realize that on days you know your paths will cross you tend to look better than usual. You fix your hair, the make up you decide to put on is almost scary good with how you’ve perfected it and your ninja attire you usually wear you decided to change it up with a different color in hopes he just noticed you. You even started to notice how nervous you grow around him or when he’s in the vicinity you’re not as bad as Hinata when Naruto talks to her but you’re pretty damn close which makes you go insane because that just isn’t you.

~~~

Sitting inside Ichiraku Ramen on one of the open chairs you sit by Hinata who you invited over to have lunch with. You two usually take time out of your week at least once to sit down and have a meal together.

“Hey Hinata. Howd you know you had feelings for Naruto?” You ask while picking out the egg from your ramen while she looks at you with an immediate blush on her cheeks.

“Well… I became interested in him when I was younger, he saved me from bullies when we were kids and even though I wasn’t allowed to be around him I always paid attention to him from that point. I admired him a lot for who he was so the feelings just came naturally, especially as we got older and were around each other more.” She answers in a small voice. You smile at her words. “Why do you ask?” She adds.

You shrug, “Just wondering is all.” She nods and turns around. “Oh hi Kiba.” She smiles at her teammate who sits next to her.

You feel 10 degrees warmer and the small restaurant suddenly felt suffocatingly smaller. You looked down at your food immediately finding it much more interesting than what the boy next to you was saying to your friend. What ramen did you even get? Wasn’t it supposed to have chicken in it? There’s so many vegetables in this. When did the broth-

“Hi (Y/N).” Kiba says with a smile.

You have to acknowledge him. You have to look at him, it’d be rude not to.

Jesus is it getting hot in here?

You hate how tight your chest feels right now, it’s just Kiba. Just Kiba, the same boy you’ve known since the Academy, since watching him lose at the Chunin exams and the same Kiba you’ve known since forever. It’s Kiba, the boy you’ve realized just up until recently that you’ve had a crush on since you can remember.

“Hi…” you say quietly and glance over at him before looking back at your bowl. You can feel your cheeks burning up and curse him for coming in here. You hate being this girl, you don’t get shy, you’re loud and abrasive most days but with Kiba around, you are reduced to a shallow puddle ready for him to step in to.

You’ve ignored and pretty much zoned out all of their conversation until Kiba stands up. You turn your head, and he smiles to the both of you. “I’ll see you two around.” His eyes linger on you for a moment before he leaves past the front banners of the restaurant. You feel your cheeks and they were practically on fire with how flustered you got, you internally sighed. God did you feel like an idiot around him.

You were patting your cheeks, hoping to calm down when Hinata gasped next to you, causing you to quickly look over. “Oh my god! Him? You like him?” She exclaimed. Your mouth opened but nothing came out. “I always noticed you act differently when he was around but that’s why you asked me that question earlier!”

“Shh!” You hush her and look around you two to see if anyone was walking by. “Don’t say anything to anyone! It’s just a little crush, something that will go away eventually ya know? It’s not like Kiba would even like me back so there’s no point in saying anything to anyone. Let alone him, right?” You rush all of the words out as quick as you can.

“Are you trying to convince me that you don’t really have a crush or yourself?” She asks.

“It just wouldn’t matter if I told him or not okay?”

You huff a big sigh and Hinata can’t help but frown slightly. She knows your feelings now, you like her teammate, but her teammate has almost said the exact same thing to her about you, give or take a few words. Kiba wanted to spend more time with you, but with you never saying more than a small greeting to him he thought it was pointless and he wouldn’t have a chance. Kiba seeing you and Hinata eating was just a perfect excuse to see you. He likes seeing you around the village, he liked being in your presence, he just liked everything about you.

He stayed back on the side of the ramen shop once he heard Hinata’s voice raise when he left. His curiosity getting the better of him he eavesdropped on your conversation. He waited a few moments and after hearing you admit, you also have feelings for him, his feet seemed to have a mind of their own because before he knew it, he was walking back into Ichiraku and was standing in front of you. You stared up at him with wide eyes and mouth agape.

[phantasticl]

@phandomgiftexchange

All my life, I was told what to do and when to do it. When I questioned why, the only response I would get was, “to prepare you for the future.” When I turned eighteen, I had my one and only chance to choose what I wanted to do, and I chose to get a law degree, and man oh man was it the worst decision ever. Dorming, classes, studying, it was all miserable. I finally had enough of it and dropped out in 2010. After I dropped out, I stayed home to “figure out what I wanted to do with my life,” which really meant “staying home and playing way too much Sonic.” This happened for about a year, until my parents threatened to kick me out of the house if I didn’t start helping out with the bills. 

I then began searching for jobs. I went to many, many interviews and received way too many rejection emails, until I finally got a phone call from someone who didn’t tell me I was, “not right for their company,” and “wished me the best.” I began my job the next day as the closing barista at a late-night coffee shop. 

My hours were pretty consistent: 7:00 pm to 3:00 am everyday except for Friday and Sunday. From the outside, this coffee shop did not make itself apparent, but the inside was quite cozy. Wooden floors and walls, chalkboard menus, soft ambient music playing in the background, you get the idea. It also had a counter with bar stools for customers, where I made and served drinks. 

The first month of working there was fine. I worked with my manager for a few days but after training I was usually working alone behind the counter, restocking ingredients and making drinks. Of course, there was never a rush when I started working, so my shifts were usually very relaxed. The only interactions I had with customers were, “what would you like?” and “thank you for coming!”

There were regulars that came in, of course. One of which would come in every Wednesday and Thursday, and order a medium americano with one cream and two sugars. He looked about my age, maybe older, with long black hair tied in a ponytail, He wore brightly colored tees, and had an unusually thick northern accent. His name, which took me about a week to catch on, was Phil. Once I memorized his name, I’d give him a cheeky little smile and ask, “the usual?” and he’d give me a soft chuckle and nod. 

After Phil received his coffee he would go to the same table in the corner of the store and pull out a book to pass the time. He came in at around 7:30 pm, and left at 11:00 pm. Although we never talked, he made me feel less alone. 

One Wednesday, he came in, and we did our usual bit, following the imaginary script that we had just like every other Wednesday and Thursday. However, rather than sitting at the corner of the coffee shop, he sat at the bar stool, placed his medium americano on the counter, , and started reading a book entitled, “Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Damaged Glory.” It was that day I decided to talk to him.

“Hey Phil,” I started nervously. “What are you reading?”

“Agh, it’s some book that my English professor recommended. How’s your shift going?”

“Eh, it’s alright, exactly like any other day. You’re in uni?”

“Not as of right now, I’m taking a gap year to try out acting. What about you?”

I hesitated. “Oh, I, uh, dropped out.”

“Good choice, I wish I did the same.”

There was then a silence. I ended the conversation poorly by saying, “well, I gotta get back to work,” and then proceeded to stand at the counter and stare at the front door.

Phil continued to come every Wednesday and Thursday evening at 7:30 pm and sit at the same bar stool at the counter. Small talk ensued every time he came, and it felt like this phase took forever. For the next couple weeks, it was just, “how are you doing,”, “what are you reading,”, and “how’s your shift.” Phil would also ask me some surface-level questions about myself, which I appreciated. 

I got a call one day from my aunt asking if I could pick up her kid from some library event in the early afternoon. I got the times mixed up and ended up getting there an hour early, so I decided to roam around the building. 

I was mindlessly staring at all the titles as I walked around, but then one book caught my eye. The brightly colored book, “Someone Who Will Love You In All Your Damaged Gory.” I picked it up and decided to flip around the book. One of the chapters was entitled, “Missed Connections.” It was from the perspective of a man who would ride the same bus with a woman with whom he shared a silent connection with. They would smile at each other, but never talk. She then stopped taking that train and the man began to think about all the ifs and could’ves. If he began a conversation with that woman on the train, would they have talked? Maybe dated? Had a future together?

I thought about how that related to my personal life. Could Phil and I become friends? Maybe even lovers? I wasn’t opposed to the idea of that. But the only chance of any of that happening was if I put in more effort to get to know him more on a personal level. 

And so I did. I drove my cousin home and went back to my job, and waited eagerly for Phil to come at 7:30pm, order his large americano with one cream and two sugars, and sit at the bar stool. And he did exactly that. I went up to talk to him, and I asked him questions. What gap-year projects was he working on currently? What books were he reading? How many siblings did he have? What was his family like? His warm smile every time he had the chance to tell me something about his life made me beam. Rather than leaving at 11:30 pm, he left at 12:00 am. And then the next day he left at 2:00 am. And, to my surprise, he came on Monday and Tuesday. He knew my work schedule, and would come in and stay just to talk to me. From then on, my shifts would involve me serving Phil his usual order, and then staying behind the counter as we talked about our past, what we were doing currently, and what we wanted to do in the future. We talked for hours, and my eight hour shifts felt much, much shorter. I felt less alone, and for the first time, there was someone in my life that I felt fully comfortable with. 

One day, it was about two in the morning and it was just us in the coffee shop. I decided to make myself a drink and come around the counter so that I could sit with him and chat. Today’s topic of conversation was about love. 

“So Phil, describe your ideal partner to me.”

“Well, I guess I want someone that’s kind, someone that can watch shows with me, just someone I can spend the rest of my life with. What about you?”

“Umm, someone I feel safe with I suppose.”

“That makes sense. Has there ever been anyone that you’ve felt safe with?”

“Yea, there’s one.”

“Well, who is it?”

And that was when I thought it would be the perfect time for me to shoot my shot. So I kissed him. It was a small peck, it wasn’t too much, but it wasn’t reciprocated either.

“Oh, Dan, I-”

“Oh, was it too much? Are you not-”

“No, I am, it’s just-” he paused. “It’s just that, I only ever saw you as a friend. I was comfortable with you as a friend. I considered you my best friend.”

“Right, I guess, I just, I saw you as a safe space and when we were talking about it-”

“I should go.”

“Okay.”

He grabbed his backpack and left. And here I was, all alone, in the coffee shop. 

I continued working there for about a week, and he never came back. Although I didn’t expect him to come back, it still hurt like hell. I ended up quitting on the spot, and went back to what I was doing several months ago: figuring out what I wanted to do with my life. 

I never talked to him again. In fact, I never tried to look for a possible safe person again. 

My dad’s friend offered me some nine to five office job that I ended up sticking at for ten years so far. I only came in when I needed to, and left when I had the opportunity to, so there was no reason for them to give me any sort of promotions. I continued making the same amount of money, and living in my parents’ house. Which is where I am currently at in life. 

I still thought about that one chapter in that book Phil was reading when I decided to talk to him for the first time. Was the situation with him considered a missed connection, even though we did connect for a little bit? If I hadn’t kissed him, would we still be friends? Could we have become lovers at some point?

[livlepretre]

yYou updated at the perfect time for me. I’m on the last day of my vacation, so I’m tanning on the mediterranean beach, sipping sangria and devouring every single word of this chapter - what a sweet way end to my holiday!

The last update gave me such a sad feeling for elena, even though you said she is actually happy. Now that she's decided to ignore Stefan and not allow him to impact her, to take charge of her relationship with Bex and get a sense of control over their relationship (I LOVE that Rebekah lets her, I think she can tell that she needs it), and, of course, to form a new bond with Kol, I can truly feel her happiness. My jaw was on the floor when she confided in Kol about her feelings about the daggering. She hadn't even discussed it with Rebecca to this degree, so I can only imagine how relieved she must feel now that she's spoken up and that Kol has genuinely understood and offered unspoken support.

Of couse my favorite thing about this chapter is Klaus’s misery which is bringing him closer and closer to his breaking point. Him yearning for her, regretting his past decisions and being in pain always puts a smile on my face. My favorite scene by far was him having to sit next to her while she was genuinely enjoying her time and he was just NOT.

I havent seen this mentioned in any comment: I feel like Stefan is actually going off the rails, like what the actual fuck???? was it him alone that killed that entire club?

My theory is that Kol is there to find a way to kill Klaus, as that was his agenda 100 years ago which got him daggered (what else would he be doing in nola anyways??). Rebekah is helping him because she knows she can’t actually be free from Klaus and can’t freely pursue her relationship with Elena (she wants to turn her but klaus is so against it and I feel like Rebekah secretly chooses Elena over Klaus. She chose Stefan over Klaus back in the days in Chicago. OMG maybe that’s what she means by the nostalgia of a farewell???)

Fuck this was such a great chapter I will definitely write more about it once i sober up and reread it lol

Also I wanted to ask you, do you prefer getting comments/asks here on tumblr or on ao3? I will adapt to your preference for future chapters😁

PS im getting progressively drunker as I’m writing this so it might not even make sense fuck me I hope you got the gist of what im rambling about💕😘

ugh, tanning on the Mediterranean beach, YOU ARE TRULY LIVING

going to admit that I was shrieking my way through this comment, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts on this chapter with me 💖

I think Elena needed to just draw some boundaries-- she's done it with Stefan, she's done it with Rebekah, and she's even managed it with Klaus (which: that is HARD work)

I think she was probably able to talk to Kol a little better because they're sort of intimate strangers-- they have the same people in common, she has read and admired his work-- but she doesn't really know him, and so there's no baggage there-- no fear of rejection, really, or of being honest-- because really, what are the stakes? and he catches her at just the right moment, in just the right mood, to want to share that with him

SUCH a great point though, that these are feelings that she has kept so closely locked up inside of herself that she doesn't share them with anyone-- and maybe she managed to share them better with Kol BECAUSE he would have used the gold dagger himself-- because he had that same capability to slay Klaus, someone he loves (even if it's very complicated)

I realized while editing this chapter that it takes forever for Klaus to even have a speaking line, but BOY does that silent smothering agony during the play speak volumes about his state

oh, our boy Stefan is going as far off the rails as it is possible to go

I think actually Elena was the last thing keeping him going and now that she's decided she's done, he's gone, he's speeding downhill on fire and just gathering speed, and there is no one at all who is going to stop his fall. it's actually terrible timing for him that Kol is here now, because Kol is just going to find things to add fuel to the fire and enjoy warming his hands by it-- being an Original, I think Kol is a bit more impervious to the downsides of being a ripper (ummm insanity? but I guess all of the Originals suffer from this anyway?)

As for the club, Rebekah and Klaus ended up killing some folks, but only Stefan was feasting; I think Rebekah and Klaus were doing damage control

Fascinated by your theory as to what Kol is doing here, and just, everything you said. I will neither confirm nor deny-- but leave it to the upcoming chapters to reveal all! Absolutely SCREAMING though that you are still percolating over the nostalgia of a farewell line!

and I am thrilled to get any comments at all, ao3 vs tumblr is really up to you!

xoxo thank you so much for this comment!! hope the remainder of your vacation was GREAT!