#we needed these three to be together that day

[badjokesbyjeff]

I never told my wife I had an ex-fiancee 

One thing I never told my wife is that I had a fiancee before her. It’s a long story, so buckle up.

It was the year after I graduated college. I was dating my girlfriend, Stephanie, for a couple years and things were getting serious. At the time, I had my roommate, Joey, but he was a Craigslist roommate. We didn’t know each other very well. If you asked me how I knew him aside from Craigslist, the answer is I didn’t. He wouldn’t even tell me where he grew up.

Now, no shit, on the day I was going to propose, tragedy struck. I adorned our apartment with candles and even set up a nice glass display with framed pictures of me and Steph on top. Before Steph came in, Joey walked in and tripped. He actually shattered the glass display and got some in his face. Steph came in a few minutes later as I was on the phone with 911. Fortunately, Steph is a nurse, so she was able to patch him up as the three of us went to the hospital together.

Joey would recover, but he had some issues with glass on his face. He needed some cotton gauze inside his eye, which fortunately the doctors were able to save.

Clearly, I put off my proposal for the time being, but Steph and I agreed to get married. Our engagement was hush hush. Steph’s hours were wonky so she took care of Joey when I wasn’t around. And I should’ve seen the red flags, but I ignored them. They’d hang out together with and without me. They’d be in Joey’s room and lock the door.

One day, I came home and all of Joey’s stuff was gone. He moved out. Steph wrote a note. The note said, “We fell in love and we’re leaving together. Don’t try to find us.”

I didn’t listen and I searched, but true to the note, I couldn’t find them. I’ll never know what happened.

Suffice to say,

if it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe

I’d have been married a long time ago.

Where did you come from, where did you go?

Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?

[kingkaizen]

𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓻

∘ desc: although things are going great with your boyfriend nanami, sometimes you think he's too nice in bed. who better to ask for some pointers than from nanami's opposite, gojo satoru <3

∘ ft: nanami & gojo

∘ word count: 2.7k

∘ includes: voyeurism, threesome, pussy slaps, spanking, face fucking, edging, dacryphilia, dirty talk

Nanami is the best boyfriend that you’ve ever had.

No matter everything that you’ve been through together in the last three years, nothing has ever made you doubt the amount of love you had for each other. You absolutely adored everything about him. After being friends for years before getting together, it wasn’t hard to fall so deeply in love with the man that he’s become. Being able to come home to him is everything that you’ve ever wanted and more.

But, of course, all relationships come with their issues.

When Nanami received a message from you saying that you had to talk, his heart immediately dropped. What could he have done wrong? Was today a special day that he forgot about? Did he accidentally leave the toilet seat up? What could possibly be it? He rushed home from work, unlocking the front door to see you sitting on the couch.

“Is everything okay?” Nanami questioned, slipping his shoes off and placing them neatly on the floor along with pinning his coat on the rack. “Your text worried me.”

“No, Kento. Everything is fine, I promise, come sit with me.” You gestured to the cushion next to yours, trying to keep him calm. You knew that texting him like that would elicit this concerned reaction, but what you’re about to say could not be said through a simple text message.

“Kento, when I say this to you, I need you to know that I love you so much and you are an amazing boyfriend okay?” Nanami nods his head slightly, eyebrows slowly coming together in complete anticipation of what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“I want you to start being rougher with me in bed.”

Finally coming out and saying it, you felt like a weight being lifted off of your chest. Nanami always treats you like glass, in and out of the bedroom. Although you love how gentle and loving he is with you, you need something more. You can’t help but think back to all of the times that he would come back home from work, irritated about something that happened. How good it would feel for him to take out those emotions on you. But, knowing your sweet boyfriend, that thought would never cross his mind. 

“Am I not satisfying you enough? I thought you enjoyed our intimate moments together…” Nanami responds, his brain thinking back to every single night you’ve spent together in the past. Why hasn’t he seen this before? Knowing that he hasn’t been satisfying you in the way that he thought hurt him much more than he was willing to admit right away.

“No, that’s not it at all. You know that you always make me feel good. I just want to change things up a bit, that’s all.” You placed an encouraging hand on his thigh, prompting him to look up at you. “I know you, Kento, don’t think too much into it. I love every moment that we have together, I just want us to try something different, that’s all.”

Nanami took in all of your words, making a pact to himself that he will change things for the better. He understands what you want, he’s just not sure how to fully give that to you. How he is in bed is exactly the way he is outside of that: sweet, loving, and overall just concerned. He would never forgive himself for hurting you in any capacity, so living up to your request will be a challenge for him. Who better to ask than his complete opposite in every single way?

“She wants you, Nanami Kento, to be rough?” Gojo almost can’t help but laugh at the thought. It’s not laughable because Nanami doesn’t have a rough side to him, Gojo of all people would know how it feels to be on the opposite end of that. The funny part is that he can’t imagine him being rough towards you. Even from an outsider looking into your relationship, anyone could see how he treats you.

“I didn’t tell you this so that you could laugh at me, Satoru, I’m asking for your help.” This request from Nanami also humored Gojo. Finally, after all of these years, Nanami is actually voluntarily asking for his help.

“How exactly do you expect me to help you? Do you need me to demonstrate?” Gojo laughed as he said this, waiting for Nanami to show some sort of disagreement in his face.

That look never came.

“That is actually exactly what I want you to do. I know the type of history that you two have, I’m not an idiot. All of these years since we’ve all been friends before we started dating, I would see the way you would look at each other. I know that there is chemistry there and I wouldn’t be surprised if you have been intimate before.” Nanami looked at Gojo, seriousness etched across his face. “I want you to show me how to treat her the way that she wants to be, I only want her to be happy.” As much as Nanami hates to admit when Gojo is better than him in any sort of way, he knows the truth when it comes to this. He sees how other women have fawned over him, and it must be for good reason.

“I’ll teach you how to fuck her like a slut.”

The sight of two shirtless men is enough to excite anyone. After telling Nanami what was on your mind, this is the last thing that you expected him to do. Of course he brought this up to you before this moment, always wanting to ensure your comfort. It was hard to disagree, you’ve been with Gojo years prior but it was never anything serious. Always flings, Gojo was never the “relationship type”. 

“So gorgeous, my love.” Nanami always admired how ethereal you looked, both in and out the bedroom. He caressed your face, planting soft yet firm kisses on your lips, growing more and more passionate by the second. Gojo was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, watching with an intense gaze. You would think that having another man watching the two of you would freak you out, but it weirdly turned you on. Gently, as always, Nanami laid you down on the mattress, fingers finding their way to your covered breasts, exposing them to his hungry mouth. After moving the fabric, his lips puckered around your nipple, tongue pushing on the hardened nub as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Kento, I need you so bad.” You whimpered, the impatient side of you coming out already. You know Nanami, you know that it doesn’t take much begging to get what you want. You know how bad he wants you too, he can’t help but fully oblige to every word you say.

“I know honey, I’m going to give it to you.” Nanami had no self control when it came to you. Gojo rolls his eyes in the corner, finally making his presence known.

“Nanami, you can’t let her talk to you like that.” Gojo slowly began to touch his growing bulge through his pants. “It’s like you already forgot everything I told you.” He stood up and walked towards the two of you, Nanami moving to the side. Gojo gently gripped your chin, turning your head to look him dead in his eyes.

“If you want something from him, you’re going to have to earn it.”

You nodded your head, his authoritative tone sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. Following his discrete directions, you kneeled in front of your boyfriend, fingers playfully toying with the zipper in his pants as you pulled it down along with the rest of it. You kissed his hard length through the last piece of fabric still left on his body, looking up at him through your lashes.

“D-Don’t tease me like that, (y/n)”. Nanami loved this obedient side of you, even if he wasn’t the reason you were acting this way. Before he could even process, Gojo lightly tapped the side of your ass, sending a slight sting throughout your body.

“Tease him like that again and you’re gonna have to make yourself cum. Now say sorry.” Gojo threatened, backing away once again to see how this unfolds. By now, he has fully released himself from the confines of his pants, fingers wrapping around his girth as he slowly began to pleasure himself at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up at Nanami once more, pulling away the last piece of clothing separating your awaiting mouth from his leaking tip. 

“I’m sorry what?” Gojo sneered.

“I’m sorry sir.” Your pleading voice made Nanami groan, watching as you finally began to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You began to put your tongue to work, swirling it around his head while keeping your lips firmly around the top, sucking in. Nanami could tell that you were still in a teasing mood, refusing to go any lower than that. Suddenly, you could feel his hand find its way to the back of your head, forcing you to let more of him in. Nanami would never do something like this normally, his forcefulness with you turning you on tremendously. Gojo laughed, approving of Nanami’s sudden confidence boost. It’s arousing to him too, watching you take all of him so deep in your mouth, gagging on his length as he throws his head back.

“That’s it, take it all.” Nanami grunts, “I love how messy you look, choking on me like that.” He could feel you moan around his length at his words, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of what’s to come. “I know how wet you are already, if you want some help you have to ask for it okay?” 

No matter what, Nanami is still always keeping your needs in mind, noticing how soaked you're starting to become. He removes himself from inside your mouth, allowing you to fully breathe. You look so beautiful, tears threatening to spill from your lash line and saliva coating around your mouth. He helps you back up to your feet, leading your body to lay backwards onto the bed, callused fingers catching any tears that manage to slip. “Tell me what you want.”

Your gaze moved from his eyes over to Gojo. “I want you both. Please sir, just touch me.” You felt pathetic as you begged, your core pulsing with need. You’ve never felt this sensitive before, everything feeling that much more intense given how hungry the two men in your presence are. 

“Aww, what a little slut you are.” Gojo grinned, making his way closer to you. “What do you think Nanami, has she been a good girl for us? Should we give her what she wants?” Gojo’s fingers began to rub on the outside of your panties. “Look at how wet she is for us.” Gojo showed Nanami your slick on his fingers, watching it glisten underneath the lowlight. 

“I think she has been a good girl.” Nanami smiles at you, so proud of how well you’ve been doing for them. “Go ahead, Gojo, you can touch her.”

“Finally.” Gojo quickly moved your panties to the side, the coolness of his touch catching you off guard as he teased the inside of your folds. “You don’t understand how torturous it was watching you without being able to touch you yet.” He makes quick work of finding your clit, slowly rubbing his thumb on your pearl as he watches you begin to writhe underneath. “Don’t forget why you’re here slut. You wanted to be treated like this so bad and now you got it. Beg for it.”

“P-Please Satoru, please touch me. I can’t take it anymore, I need it so bad.” You pleaded, beginning to feel helpless underneath him. Gojo smirked, plunging his slender fingers inside of you unexpectedly. You felt your body arch up in surprise, a gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure began to consume your body.

“So fucking greedy.” Gojo began slowly at first, catching a rhythm. “Look at how she’s drenching my fingers.” Nanami rubs himself at the sight, growing impatient. You’re too far gone to notice, feeling your own orgasm already beginning to slowly creep up in intensity. Before you know it, you're cumming all around his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Gojo quickly pulls his fingers out, not doing anything to help you ride it out. “Who told you that you could cum?” He taps his hand against your pussy repeatedly, watching you moan in a mix of pleasure and pain and you slowly come down from your high. “What a fucking whore.”

“I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t -fuck- I couldn’t help it.” You sob, looking at Nanami. You’ve never seen him look so angry. He didn’t say anything to you, only twirling his finger around, motioning for you to flip over. You quickly follow his que, not wanting to do anything to tick him off further. You can’t fully process that this is happening, your Nanami actually treating you this way.

You fucking loved it.

You felt his familiar touch rub over your ass as you got on all fours, arching your back slightly. He groaned at the sight of your wetness, glistening core almost calling out to him. He rubbed his tip against your folds, feeling your hole try to suck him in. Meanwhile, Gojo is sucking your juice off of his fingers, loving the taste of you.

“Get on with it Nanami, if she wants to be punished so badly then so be it.” Gojo made his way in front of you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your plush lips. “We told you what would happen if you didn’t listen, right? You have to be a bit smarter than that sweetheart.” The syrupy tone of his voice didn’t match his actions as he parted your lips with his head, feeling you wrap your lips against his girth. With that, Nanami finally pushed himself all the way in, moaning in unison along with you. Gojo could feel the vibrations of your moans against him.

Nanami gave you no time to adjust, pounding his entire length into you with such force that caused your mouth to hang open in shock. You felt so good, brain completely fogged over with no thoughts other than the complete monster that Nanami has become. He’s never fucked you like this, usually preferring soft thrusts over the hard pounding that he’s subjecting yourself to now. You suddenly felt a sharp slap on your ass, his large hand rubbing the sting away almost just as quickly as he placed it.

“Don’t ignore Gojo now, honey. I thought a slut like you would love to have two thick cocks filling you up this way?” Nanami questioned, picking up the pace which made it so much harder for you to focus. Gojo wasn’t having that. He placed one hand on each side of your face, holding it in place for him to thrust his hips against you. His cock filled your mouth, spit sloshing everywhere as your face got messier and messier.

“Fuck (y/n), you’re doing so fucking good for us princess.” Gojo moaned, the sounds coming from the room overwhelmed his senses. The bed creaking, you struggling to take Nanami while also pleasuring Gojo, and the sound of Nanami’s balls slapping against your ass sounded like music to his ears. Nanami couldn’t believe how hot this all was, feeling as your walls began to quiver around him.

“You’re gonna cum again baby?” Nanami asked, gripping your hips tighter as he felt himself get even closer. Gojo was already almost there, hips beginning to stutter as he watched you cry out. All you could do is whimper in response, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Nanami made it there first, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he spilled himself inside of you. Ropes of cum flooded in as he fully pressed himself against you, beads of sweat threatening to drip off his nose. Gojo soon followed, shooting his load into your mouth as you took it all.

“Such a good girl.” Gojo mused, wiping the side of your mouth when he finished. He proceeded to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. Nanami pulled himself out slowly, watching in delight as his seed slowly dripped out of you. You whimpered at the now empty feeling, your orgasm slowly starting to retreat.

“You’re not going to finish me off?” You angrily turned to Nanami, watching the smirk begin to creep up his face.

“Not unless you beg for it.”

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[fikefries]

wisdom; matt sturniolo

summary: you had to get your wisdom teeth out, but with your extreme phobia of needles, it wasnt going to be easy. luckily your boyfriend matt and his brothers stick by your side the entire time.

warnings: needles, mentions of rapid breathing, dentists, anaesthesia

the day had come. the day you had been dreading for weeks.

you had to get your wisdom teeth out.

normally, you werent such a wuss, you handled pain and hospitals well.

but needles.

you couldnt stand the sight of needles. their pricky ends and shiny surface making you feel lightheaded at the sight of them.

thats what make you so nervous for today, the part where they had to stab your arm with a huge ass needle to get the IV in.

you were on the way to the dentists office, your boyfriend matt sitting in the drivers seat, your best friend chris in the passenger seat, while you and your bff nick sat together in the back.

all three of them knew of your phobia of needles, so they were trying their best to calm you down before you got there.

"no chris you dont understand, how can i 'chill out' knowing a huge fucking metal pointy thing is going to be stabbed directly into my goddamn bloodflow, have you seen the length of those fuckin needles?" i say to chris frustratedly as he tried to explain to me that it was no big deal.

chris sighed in defeat as he gave up on trying to reason with you.

my nerves were increasing by the second as we got closer and closer to the dentists office.

matt noticed your anxious state and pulled over at the last stop sign before you reached the dentists office. he turned around leaned back to face you, cupping your cheek with his hand, softly caressing your face in an attempt to comfort you and calm you down.

"listen baby, i know you're nervous- i know that alright? but you need to stay calm for me. ill be there with you the entire time okay? theres no need to worry or be scared, nothings going to happen to you. you have us by your side."

you felt nick rub a soothing hand over your back as chris added

"yeah y/n, dont worry if the needle hurts you ill beat it up" making punching motions with his fist.

you couldnt help but giggle at chris's attempt to lighten the mood.

"alright baby you ready to go in?" matt asked softly holding your hand tightly.

"ready" you sighed, knowing there was no getting out of this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the lights in the dentists office were blindingly bright white, forcing you to squint your eyes while you walked in. as you entered, you noticed all the dentist equipment sitting on the spotless metal counters, wires of different colours spread out all over the floor, connected to the dental bed.

the dentist was explaining the procedure to you, matt, nick and chris. but his words became more and more muffled in your brain as you look around the room. finally laying eyes on the needles.

matt sensed your change in demeanour as he noticed your breathing became increasingly rapid. he came up behind you, softly hugging your waist and moving you to the spot he was originally, blocking your eyes from the view of the needles. then wrapping an arm around you and tracing soft patterns on your shoulder while glancing at your face every few seconds to make sure you're not panicking, as you both continued to listen to the dentists explanation.

after the briefing about the procedure, it was time for it to actually happen. matt helped you up onto the dental bed, placing his hand on the back of your head to make sure you dont hit it as you lay back.

chris stood to the right of the bed, rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder

"you're gonna kill it y/n" he said supportingly

"yeah unless it kills me" you snorted, joking, making the boys giggle before returning to comforting you with small rubs and words of support whilst the dentist set up his equipment.

chris and nick left the room for a bit, wanting to give both you and the dentist space, as they knew it wouldnt be easy for you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

it was time. time for the part you were dreading most. you stared at the long silver blade as the dentist filled it with the medicine that needed to be injected into you through the IV, matt standing beside the bed.

"hey- hey y/n, dont look at that, look at me okay." he said as he slowly moved your head towards him, trying to distract you from the needle.

"just look at me okay, youre doing so good baby im so proud of you."

you stared into matts big blue eyes as he gave you soft affirmations, how did you get so lucky?

matt saw the doctor getting ready to insert the needle into your skin, so he pulled your hoodie down to cover your eyes, and cradled your face into his tshirt, running his fingers through your hair, trying to distract you from what was about to come.

"you're doing so good for me baby, the worst parts almost over"

when you felt the cold metal pierce your skin, you leaned further into matt, trying not to embarrass yourself by whimpering or making any embarrassing sounds. as the needle was being pushed deeper in, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

"matttt" you groaned, on the verge of tears, muffled by his tshirt.

"i know baby, i know- youre almost done, you did amazing." he reassured you, holding your head into his shirt and smoothing down your hair while he watched you squirm in his embrace, his heart breaking at the sight.

once the IV was fully in, matt slowly loosened his grip on you, pulling you out of his embrace as you leaned back onto the bed, just then you heard the door open revealing chris and nick walking back in.

"you did it y/n!" chris exclaimed, placing a hand on your head

"we're so proud of you" nick added, patting his hand on your leg as reassurance

"that fuckin sucked" you slurred, the anaesthesia kicking in.

"ooh y/n's getting drowsy now, thats the anaesthesia kicking in" nick said

"how do you feel baby" matt asked rubbing your shoulder

"all i can feel is this fucking dumb bitchass needle in my goddamn arm" you replied, words slurring, making the boys break out into laughter at your choice of wording.

"well now the worsts part over baby, you faced your fear so well."

"hmmmm" you hummed in reply, feeling too drowsy to think

through your blurred vision you looked up at the 3 boys

"you guys look the same" you said

"matt.i love you so fuckin much" you added immediately without giving them time to reply

"and chris and nick i love you guys too"

the boys giggled at your sudden affection

"we love you too y/n" nick giggled

'you're so pretty matty" you admired, reaching your hand out to matt's face, making chris and nick giggle.

"you're the prettiest girl in the world baby, and i love you so much, but right now you gotta keep your hands down okay? if you keep your hands still we can get out of here faster and go get ice cream okay" matt retorted

"can we play ayesha erotica on the way home?" you asked innocently, looking up at matt with pleading eyes.

"yes y/n we can play ayesha erotica"

"i wanna go the fuck home" you said, before falling into a deep sleep due to the anaesthesia.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

outside the room

y/n was undergoing the procedure of getting her teeth taken out now, which means the boys had to leave the room.

"matt you do you feel" chris asked, throwing a shoulder around his brother, recording him on his iphone.

"im so proud of her, i know she was scared and i know she'd beeen feeling pain so its a relief that she was able to pull through and face her fears. i knew she could do it shes my girl." matt said to the phone

"thats adorable" nick giggled, before the doctor called them to come back in.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you were now fully awake, 4 teeth less than before, with gauze in your mouth and a frown on your face

"hi baby, you such an amazing job. im so fucking proud of you right now." matt said as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he admired how cute you looked, mouth swollen, and filled with gauze that made your cheeks puffy, and an adorable frown on your forehead.

"youre crazy y/n, you made that look so easy" nick said rubbing your head.

"can we go home now please" you said grumpily, anaesthesia still now worn off.

"i want this fucking shit out of my body" you said referring to the IV in your arm, as you tried to yank it out.

"WOAH NO- NO Y/N YOU CANT PULL IT OUT" matt exclaimed worriedly.

"baby you need that in you, it helps you not feel the pain in your mouth."

"matt whats this" you asked sticking your tongue out

"thats your tongue baby"

"i cant feel it, or my lips, where are my lips?"

"theyre right here" matt replied as he gently pressed a finger to your lips, giving you the perfect oppurtunity to place a soft kiss on the pad of his finger, making him giggle,

"i want chipotle" you stated bluntly

"no- no chipotle, she cant have any hard foods that may get stuck in her mouth for atleast two weeks, stick to ice creams, soups and mashed potatoes." the dentist told matt, knowing you wouldnt be able to remember this information.

"heard that baby? ice cream and mashed potatoes- doesnt that sound great?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you got to leave the dentist in a wheelchair, which was pretty great.

once you got home, matt ordered you chicken noodle soup and fed it to you while you guys watched spongebob, then he cleaned and replaced your gauze, then helped you get changed and into bed, holding you tightly as you both drifted off into sleep.

you could not have asked for a better boyfriend than matthew sturniolo, you really hit the jackpot.

[zyafics]

play fake | part eight

series play fake — ( masterlist )

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

Laid out on the edge of a heavenly bed, a rustling stirs you awake.

You blink through the thinly-streamed sunlight casting into the room and adjust your vision, trying to decipher where you are.

Rafe stands in front of his closet, shirtless, searching through to find something to wear. When you lift your head off the pillow, groggy sounds escaping your lips, he turns his head. 

"Shit, did I wake you?" He asks, brows furrowed together.

"Are you going somewhere?" You respond, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. "Should I go home?"

Last night, after you accepted Rafe's invitation to stay over at Tannyhill, you didn't do anything other than shower, take a Plan B, and go to sleep. It was a long day and when Rafe shuffled into his sheets, you pulled yourself to the ledge of the mattress. It wasn't done out of separation, but because of an unusual habit you developed as the sole provider for your sisters. You always stay close enough to the edge that, if any problems arise in the middle of the night, you have the fastest exit.

Rafe shakes his head, rounding the bed to approach your side. He can't believe how pretty you are, even just waking up, fresh-faced with no makeup. His chest buzzes with an indescribable feeling.

"It's fine," he declares. "I'm about to head out to brunch with my dad. We have to talk through some things that happened last night."

You don't miss the grimace in his tone.

Frowning, you offer, "do you want me to come?"

Honestly, Rafe would love that. Having you by his side while he’s conversing with his father would ground him. Because he knows, if Ward Cameron sees him as incompetent and expandable, at least with you, he isn’t. 

"You have nothing to wear."

You glance down at your sleepwear, a borrowed shirt from Rafe's closet that cuts mid-thigh, and realize he's right. It wasn't like you packed an overnight bag and your only options are to reuse the gown from last night or your bartender work attire.

There is Sarah's closet but after Rafe's whole conflict with his sister returning, you'd rather not put it on the table.

"Right." You drawl, pressing your lips together while you consider alternatives. "You could drop me off at my house. I can change."

He shakes his head, concealing a rising smile at your determination to attend. "Not enough time."

"What time is it?"

"A quarter after eleven. I have to meet him there by noon."

He's right. The drive to The Cut is going to take most of that time.

"I'll be fine." Rafe declares. "I've handled him for the past twenty-three years. I can handle a few hours."

You nod, saying nothing. What could you say? You're taking Rafe's words at face value and if he believes he can go into this meeting without having another destructive conversation, then you can only believe him.

"I should go then." You throw the comforter off your body, the coldness of the morning breeze sends a shiver down your spine. Your legs drape off the ledge. "Since you won't be here."

"No." Rafe asserts suddenly, causing you to stop in your tracks. "I'll be back. Just hang out here."

He doesn't want you to leave. Whatever conversation he'll have with his father, it would either settle on a concession or a bad ending. Rafe already mentally prepared the layout of his day and he knows he'll need you after. To talk. To comfort. To be here with him.

"Alone?" You confirm, the idea is scandalous to your ears. "In your mansion? Aren't you afraid I'm going to steal something of yours?"

You're playing into Pogue stereotypes, testing if Rafe trusts you enough.

"You wouldn't." He shakes his head with confidence and you still don't have your answer.

“You don’t know that.” You challenge with a tease. “I saw some things downstairs I would like to take home. If I just swipe them when you leave…” Your voice trails off when Rafe settles in front of you, both arms pressed on either side of your hips and he levels down his face to be inches away from yours. 

"I could just buy them for you."

Your heart sputters. You stare back at him, admiring his freshly-clean look with a faint scent of aftershave. He looks handsome. His blue eyes set on you, captivating and waiting. For a brief moment, you could see yourself letting him in. 

You expel an awkward laugh. ‘Yeah, right,” you hit his shoulders, trying to create some distance between the two of you, but it doesn’t work. The touch only further the buzz within you, stirring something from the pit of your stomach. “Like I would let you.” 

"But you'd rather steal?"

You shrug, needing to look away, pretending to admire a thread you found on his sheets. "What did I tell you that day in Topper's house?"

He hazily recounts the details. The night when you came and propositioned him. Where he got into a fight with a stranger for harassing you. Where you patched him up.

"I only remember you on my lap."

You scoff, turning back to him. "Of course you would." 

You make a move to stand, but Rafe lays a hand on your hips, keeping you in place.

"What?" You ask breathlessly, despite the limited movement.

“You promised you were going to ride me.” He recalls lowly, pushing the fabric of his tee up your thighs and creating goosebumps in its wake. “You don’t have makeup on.”

Shaky breaths leave you, trying to remain in control. But you know you’re losing it with every light caress Rafe is giving you, igniting the heat between your legs. “Are you always this horny in the morning?”  

"Just for you, sweetheart."

Your mind is warping and you fumble for excuses.

"I have morning breath."

"We don't have to kiss."

"You have a meeting in less than an hour."

"We'll be quick."

With a huff, you retort. "Do you always have an answer for everything I say?"

He chuckles. "I know you now."

You're afraid he truly does.

Your lips part when his hand cups the underside of your jaw, tilting your gaze to meet his. His eyes scans over your features, reading how willing you are, and mumbles. "That's my girl."

Your skin buzzes with his praise, and Rafe goes to remove your shirt—his shirt that you’re wearing, the sight of which drives him insane—and exposing your bare tits and panties underneath. No matter how many times he sees you naked, it amazes him every time. That it’s him that gets to see you this way. That it’s him who gets to touch you. 

"Fuck." He whispers, sinking to his knees as his hands spread your legs apart. He wants nothing more than to sink in you, but he wants to please you first. Lowering, Rafe kisses the base of your knee to your inner thighs. "You're so fucking gorgeous."

It's things like this that make your head spin. Not the mind-blowing sex—no, that's a plus—but his words. The little acts. You don't know whether to trust them because mostly, he only utters them when you're intimate. You know how different it can be afterwards.

His fingers go under the band of your underwear and take them off with your assistance. 

"Such a pretty pussy." His thumb traces up and down your slit, collecting your arousal and causing you to buckle from his slow, teasing touch.

"Rafe." You warn. "The time."

He glances over his shoulders to the digital clock sitting on his dresser and turns back to you with a smirk. "How about you watch it and tell me how I'm doing?"

"You have a meeting soon."

"Baby, you really don't want to rush me." He declares, moving closer and pushing your legs onto his shoulders. His tongue lightly grazes your cunt, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip. "I wanna enjoy this."

Rafe flattens his tongue, performing languid strokes as your fingers threads through his hair. You arch into his face when he sucks on your clit, his fingers entering you in simultaneous thrusts. Your eyes flutter close from the sensation.

"You taste so good, baby, I could have you for breakfast every morning." He mumbles against your opening, the vibration of his rasps elevates the pleasure and aids you towards your climax.

When you come on his face, Rafe guides you through your release and when he pulls back, he checks the clock. "Not bad, huh?"

You shake your head softly, a dazed smile on your lips. "I bet I can do better."

"Yeah?"

You push yourself forward to remove his sweatpants, the outline of his bulge prominent, and while you tease him with light traces on his lower abdomen, the sound of a ringtone interrupts you.

Rafe moves over to the dresser where his phone sits and answers the call from his father. "Yeah?" He greets, listening to what Ward has to say. "You said twelve."

Another exchange is made before Rafe ends, and when he does, he rolls his eyes, agitation evident on his features. "I have to go. My dad is moving up the time."

You smother the aching disappointment and nod. "Okay," you say, picking up your panties from the floor and sliding them over your hips. You glance over to the door, contemplating your own exit. He notices. 

"I'll be back, alright?" Rafe reaffirms, coming over to plant a gentle kiss on your temple and your body leans into his touch. "Just stay."

While you wait for Rafe to explain, you take a tour around the estate. Midway through your exploration of family portraits and expensive winery around the kitchen, you receive a phone call from the babysitter. 

"Hello?" You answer, while the babysitter is scrambling to produce coherent words. "Wait, wait, slow down. What's going on?"

She doesn't explain much, informing you to get home immediately and hangs up. Your heart sputters by the sudden disconnect and you race to Rafe's bedroom to collect your things before ordering a rideshare. When you hop in, your leg restlessly taps on the floor of the car while you check the battery on your phone.

You're imagining the worst possible scenarios. Something happened to your sisters. They got injured. One of them is in the hospital. The other is missing. Or, somehow, the house caught on fire and now, you're homeless.

When you reached your destination, the car didn't halt to a full stop before you hopped out, running down the driveway to the familiar, unscathed house. That calms your mind for a moment.

Before you realize it's something much worse.

"Aaron." You murmur, shoulders tense as your eyes widen, recognizing the tall dark-haired man standing in front of your door, talking to the babysitter who's blocking the entryway. He turns his head at your arrival, eyes cascading down your body before meeting your gaze.

"Y'know, you've been a hard woman to find." He chuckles to himself, the sound making all the hair on your body stand up. Aaron pushes himself off the beam of your porch. "Where you been?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest. You glance over to the babysitter to signal her and she reenters the house and barricades the door. Inhaling a sharp breath, you try to calm yourself.

"What are you doing here?"

He tsk. "Wrong answer. I asked you first."

"I know I'm late—"

"I don't wanna hear excuses." He holds out his hand, flexing the various dark ink crawling up his forearms. "I just want an answer."

His voice is calm. Too calm. It's scaring you.

"I've been busy. Business been slow—"

"Is that not an excuse I'm hearing?" He says, stepping closer to you. You can see the outline of his gun tucked under the band of his pants and your breath shortens. "Where have you been?"

With your heartbeat in your throat, you don't know what answer you can give to satisfy him. So, you remain silent.

When Aaron realizes that, he tilts his gaze out into the driveway with a huff. "I heard you been running around with a Kook," he states, matter-of-fact, and you can smell the faint stench of nicotine wafting from his clothes. "Was that him?"

He's referring to your rideshare driver. You shake your head frantically. "No. But, I swear to you, I'll get you your money if I have more time."

He scoffs in disbelief, turning back and ignoring your pleas. His dark eyes find the pendant wrapped around your neck and he lets out a cold chuckle. "And he's been giving you some real nice gifts, too."

Fuck, this isn't a good look for you. Your panic is skyrocketing and you resist the strongest urge to hide the expensive jewelry behind your palm.

"Aaron." You begin again, your voice shifting to desperation. "I just need a little bit more time. This doesn't mean—"

He holds out another hand. "Look, I've been a nice guy. Wouldn't you say so?" He prompts, tilting his head, and when you don't answer, he adds. "I mean, what kind of person would lend you thirty grand? I consider that pretty generous, right?"

You swallow hard, your throat dry. "Right."

"And I've done nothin' yet to make you not trust me otherwise, right?"

You hesitate with a shaky breath, your knees buckling. "Right."

"So, all I'm asking is to return the gesture and give me back my money. I help you, you help me, that's how this relationship works, right?"

"Aaron, I—"

"If you interrupt me one more time, I'll cut out that fucking tongue."

You let out a small whimper, silencing yourself. Both hands tucked behind your back. He smiles at your submission, dark eyes gleaming in pride. "Good."

Aaron draws closer, stopping just in front of you. His grimy fingers trails down the length of your neck, following the chain of your necklace, before grabbing the pendant between his fingers and ripping it off. The clasp breaks and a gasp leaves your lips.

With his other hand, he seizes the back of your neck.

"Three days." He threatens, the grip piercing into your skin. "I'm givin' you three more days and if you can't pay me back by then, I won't be such a nice guy anymore."

He waves the dangling necklace in front of your face. "I'll keep this as collateral."

You're shaking under his touch and he notices, smiling crudely, before he does another sweep of your exposed body. "And y'know, there's other ways of paying me back."

Aaron finally releases you, and you stumble away from him with a few steps. The dark-haired man descends off your porch and disappears on his bike, leaving you trembling at the foot of your door.

You don't move for the next few minutes. Your mind is occupied with everything going on, that when you slip into your house, you run on autopilot.

You pay the babysitter, patting her back as a silent gratitude for her assistance and protection, and gather your sisters onto the couch, holding them close. Hugging them tight. Trying to use their heartbeats to calm yours.

The rest of the night is spent with them. They wanted to watch a movie and you pulled out an old disk of their favorite films. With that on, they quickly fall asleep on your shoulders and you carry them to their bedroom.

That's when the real work begins.

Spending the rest of your time on the kitchen island, devising a plan, you hear a knock at your door.

Afraid that the loan shark had returned to make a second visit, you hoped it would go away, only for the sound to grow more intense and adamant. Your fear spikes and you were afraid he was going to do something much worse if you didn't answer. When you approached the front door, you held your breath.

Only to find a blond.

"Where were you?" Rafe demands, his expression unreadable but his words are cold. It rubs you the wrong way, reminding you too closely of Aaron.

You can't handle it. You attempt to shut the door, only for Rafe to stick his foot between the crack and push back.

"What the fuck? What are you doing?" Rafe enters into your house, his eyes searching the place for anything out of the ordinary, anything you would hide from him, before his gaze lands on you.

You cross your arms protectively over your chest, thinking this is another one of his outbursts. "Rafe, I don't have time right now. Whatever you're pissed off about, you have to wait—"

"I came home and you were gone."

That quiets you.

"Your shit was gone. Even your mess from the bathroom was wiped clean." He recounts, struggling to conceal the vulnerability seeping through his words with each reveal. "You didn't even leave a note."

Your mind is muddled. You didn't realize it would affect him this much and something about the act endears you. You were so frantic, trying to figure out how to get home before your phone dies, that you forgot your own commitment to Rafe.

"Say something." He urges.

"What happened?" You ask softly, discovering your answer when his expression twists. Like he doesn't want to think about it. You don't want to think about your problems either. "I assumed you would go to a party."

You say that because, if Rafe didn't have you conveniently-located at his disposal, he would return to his own vices. It stings him that you still thought of him as his former image, but he couldn't completely fault you because he did—he went to one of the island's parties and came out still feeling empty.

Rafe's jaw locks as he stares at you, breathing heavily. Taking you in. How just the sight of you seems to soothe him. He doesn't know how to explain it, when the tides changed, but it did. The fact that he's here, in this rundown house in the middle of The Cut after a blowout with his father, all because he misses you says it all.

"I don't want to talk." He declares firmly, the resoluteness of his tone shocks you. "Not now. But I will, after, if that's what you want."

You draw your brows together. "What are you getting at, Rafe?"

Rafe swears under his breath. These words, these feelings are difficult to him. It's uncomfortable and unwanted and all it makes him want to do is resort back to his anger, something comfortable he can express himself in. But he can't. Not with you.

"I don't want that shit anymore. I just wanna fuck you."

Your lips part. "What?"

Unintentionally, the natural response came with a tone of hurt but you disguise it well. You recognize your own feelings in that precise moment. When you got into this relationship with Rafe, you knew nothing he does is out of the sincerity of his heart. It's a committed act. A performance of a perfect boyfriend.

Yet, it breaks your heart. How you manage to fall for him, despite knowing everything he does is fake. Even now, standing before you, he's admitting his clear intentions and you can't help but envision another meaning.

It can destroy you, this hope, only if you let it. You'd rather let the clear lines be drawn. If Rafe is telling you he wants to use you for sex, so be it. You won't ask for anything else.

When your silence becomes deafening, Rafe abandons his last shred of pride.

"Please."

You inhale sharply, evening your words. You can detach too. "Ask me."

His large hand tucks under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "Can I use you?"

"Yes."

The confirmation was all he needed before his lips slams into yours. His hands lowers to capture your ass and as a signal, you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist. Rafe moves through the hallway and towards your bedroom, kick-opening the door, causing the doorknob to smash into your wall with a loud thump.

You pull back from the kiss. "Don't break my house."

"I'll pay for that."

Rafe drops you onto the bed and pulls off his shirt you took from Tannyhill. His movements are skilled and hurried, needing to see you, to taste you. He kisses down your neck, to the curve of your shoulders, before finding himself between the valley of your breasts. His mouth covers a nipple.

You tip your head back with a moan, reveling in the way his tongue twirls around the metal barbell, igniting your nerves. Rafe rocks against your spread legs and you feel his bulge teasing your core. "Rafe, please."

"What did I tell you about rushing me?" He murmurs against your skin. "I'm trying to enjoy this."

The challenge hangs in the air and when Rafe gives both of your tits equal attention, he pulls back to admire the sight of your hard nipples wet and glistening. Tilting his gaze up to you, he palms a breast in his hand.

"I'm going to be rough." He announces. "Tell me if it hurts."

Your heart swells from the gesture but you wish he would just do it without caution. It'll be easier to separate your feelings.

Leaning forward to capture a kiss, you breathe into his mouth. "You said use me, right? Then use me."

His eyes darken. "Don't say something you'll regret."

"Then make me regret it."

You're exactly what he needs.

Rafe wastes no more time and strips out of his clothes, his cock springing free from his boxer, all red and swollen. You can't help but feel a pang of pity, remembering how he had to leave this morning without release.

Reaching out to cup him, he snatches your wrists in one hand. "What do you think you're doing?"

You pout. "I'm helping you."

"Did I tell you to?" His words are commanding, shifting to a state that leaves no room for arguments. You swallow hard, feeling a thrill passing through you at his control. "Are you going to be a good girl tonight and do as you're told?" 

You nod.

"I need words, sweetheart."

"Yes." You say desperately and Rafe releases you.

Pushing you back against the mattress, he pulls you to the ledge and removes your shorts and panties. When you're open and dripping for him, he thrusts into you without warning.

"Shit," you let out a cry. Rafe pushes the back of your thighs into a bend, your kneecaps beside your ears, and this new position gives him access to enter deeper.

"Fuck, I needed this." He moans, burying in ecstasy at the way you wrap perfectly around him. "Why would I ever want to go to another fucking party when I can have this every night?"

You can't answer him, too lost in the initial pain that quickly fades into your credence of pleasure. Moans escape you, elevating in volume with each pump. You had to slap both your hands over your mouth to muffle your sounds from waking your sisters.

Rafe recognizes that immediately. That's the only reason he isn't ripping them off right now—to let him hear how he makes you feel, to listen to what he's owed—because he knows where your priorities lie.

"Please don't stop," you whimper through your fingers, which are slowly loosening as you feel the familiar tension tightening in your gut.

"Sweetheart, God can't even pull me away from this pussy right now." Rafe grunts. Your walls flutter around him. "You're about to come, aren't you?"

You nod desperately and Rafe fastens his rhythm, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as you race towards your orgasm with a loud, uninhibited moan that echoes through the room. He had to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Panting, you try to catch your breath but Rafe doesn't allow you to rest. Still hungry, still needing, he pulls out and flips you on your stomach, hauling your ass in the air.

Your legs burn from the way he folded you but you still get on your knees. Breathing heavily with your profile pressed against your sheets, you feel his hands flattening against the smooth curve of your cheeks, squeezing.

Rafe takes his time to admire you from behind. So willing, so wanting, he can see you dripping and making a mess on your covers. He chuckles. "Do you need me, baby?"

"I want you," you breathe, "inside, please."

"Inside where?" Rafe grips the base, tapping his tip on your wet folds. "Here?" He mocks, before shifting to the opening of your asshole. "Or here?"

Your breath hitches; the unfamiliar contact sends a shiver down your spine.

"Come on, sweetheart. I need an answer." Rafe taunts, rubbing his slick cock over your hole, anticipation pricking his skin as he sees you contract. "Would this be your first?"

You nod, too disoriented to form words.

He grins. "Are you going to let me fuck your asshole?"

The feeling of your slickness rubbing against your back entrance feels foreign but not unwelcome, sending hot desire to your core. While you struggle to produce an affirmative, Rafe leans forward to grab your throat, pulling you upright.

"Are you going to answer me, Pogue, or am I going to have to do it for you?"

You hate the term Pogue, especially when he uses it, but at this moment, with his hot breath fanning the crook of your neck, you're glad he is. It reminds you—to separate the sex and your heart.

"Whatever you want." You confess.

Rafe drops you back onto the mattress, spitting on your asshole and wets the area with the pad of his thumb. He didn't immediately enter, as you would have predicted, and instead pushed a thick digit through your hole.

You try to relax, shivering through unfamiliar contact.

"Oh, shit, you're so tight for me." He breathes out, sliding in two. "I know you're going to make me come in a second."

He thrusts in-and-out at a slow pace, prepping you, but the lack of friction is causing you to grow impatient and needy. All you want is him. 

"Do it. I'm ready."

Rafe laughs. Not listening. "But this isn't about you, is it?"

He tests you out for a couple more minutes, getting you comfortable and relaxed, and it lures you into a false sense of security. When you find yourself gathering your breath, it shifts into a sudden emptiness of his removal, and before you know it—he pushes the head of his cock in, surprising you with a scream. 

The pressure stings from the initial intrusion, and you wince, gripping onto the sheets and burying your face, but as Rafe gradually fills you, the pain fades into an unlikely pleasure, floating and amplified all over your body.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans. "Am I hurting you?"

You hesitate before nodding. "Yes..."

He stills. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head. "No."

Something ignites deep and carnal within Rafe. The way your body tightens, your legs shaking, and the submission in your voice as he has his way with you. The fact that you want to continue, despite the hurt, because he wants it, drives him insane.

"You're being such a good girl tonight."

The compliment drives your enthusiasm and you wiggle your ass against his cock, feeling him twitch inside of you. It flips his control. Rafe quickly grabs your hips, holding you in place.

He grits out. "Don't do that."

"Why not?" You whine, wanting to feel him deeper, more full. "I'm only trying to help."

A laugh can't help but escape him. At how cockdrunk you are—it carves something in his chest. "God, you really are my personal slut. Doing anything to make me feel good, won't you?"

You don't answer, the call-out warming your cheeks at your own recognition. You said it once during sex, a tease on him, but now you can't help but see how true it is. Now, it feels like an attack on the independent facade you crafted as part of your character.

Rafe wants to hear you. He grips your hips harder, leaving bruises. "Say it."

You shake your head. You don't want him to know how much you're willing to give him. It's too vulnerable.

The lack of silence isn't enough for him.

Rafe rails into you, bottoming out, and you let out a cry at the intensity of his size, at the pressure buried in you, and the pain-pleasure that pulsates through your body. You understand it's your own punishment, but your teeth sinks into your bottom lip, refusing to budge.

He goes again. And again. To the point that he's rage-fucking you, abandoning all restraints and channeling his aggression from his brunch and your disobedience. He wants to know you'll be willing to sacrifice your pride as much as he sacrifices his and he's pissed that you aren't.

A tit-for-tat. 

One of your hands slips between your legs, rubbing your clit in simulation. The euphoria explodes all over, especially with how Rafe fills you from behind, and you moan wildly, causing him to discover the act and pin your wrists behind your back.

"No."

"Rafe." You beg, the ache between your legs is demanding and left without resolution. "Touch me."

He shakes his head with a tsk. "Bad girls don't deserve that."

You have a retort on your lips but it's forgotten the moment he thrusts into you, so deep, it hits a spot you didn't know existed and causes you to roll your eyes to the back of your head.

"Fuck, you're loud." He grumbles, grabbing your panties from the side and bundling them into a tight ball, shoving it into your mouth. You choke on surprise.

"Rafe–"

"Shut. Up." He warns viciously, knowing the increment level of noises you're producing is going to wake your siblings. Another reason why you won't let him in. "And just take it like a good slut."

Something about his command exhilarates you. Bounded and gagged, Rafe is fucking your ass, and all you can think about is you're letting him. You want this. Even with his harsh words.

You had to give him something.

"Like yours." You admit, the muffling of your panties works wonders at stifling your words.

Despite that, he heard it. Rafe pauses for a moment. You aren't giving him everything, but he hears it in the confession.

His command is low. "Say that again."

"I'm yours." You whimper, desperate and submissive. "Please make me come."

His chest warms and his smile is smug. Rafe slides his hand from your hips to your needy cunt, rubbing your swollen nub with tight circles, causing you to buckle and heightening your rising peak.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp with a sharp breath, "oh, god, oh, god."

When you come, your orgasm hits in waves—intense and demanding—ripping out of you despite the gag, and searing in such an elevated state that you slump back onto the bed. Rafe has to abandon everything to grab your middle, holding you up.

He continues to penetrate you from behind until he fills you up, his hot cum leaking out of you. When he pulls out, he takes his fingers and pushes it back in, causing you to contract with a low, lazy moan.

You're out of it. You thought it would be the end but Rafe's appetite is insatiable. He settles back against the headboard of your bed, breathing heavily with a sheen of sweat covering his taut chest, and beckons you.

"Rafe," you groan weakly. "What?"

"Come here."

Despite the throbbing in your muscles, you crawl to him. Settling next to his pelvis, you glance down at his softening cock. "Get me hard again."

Your eyes widen at the instruction. "Are you not tired?"

"Never of you."

You roll your eyes before your fingers gingerly wrap around his shaft, slowly rubbing him out, feeling it harden underneath your touch in a matter of seconds. You gleam in a bit of pride at your ability. You turn back to him, drawn out and exhausted. "Now, what?"

"Ride me."

"What?"

"Come on, sweetheart." He teases, grabbing your waist and moving you to mount over him. Your entrance hovers over his tip, sensitive—so, so sensitive—that you let out a small whine. "You have a promise to keep."

You try. Lowering yourself to let the head in, you immediately pull back, hissing from your overestimation with a fervent shake of your head.

"Rafe." You pant, eyes searching his face. "I can't. I–I think I'm done."

"I'm not." And with that, he thrusts upwards and into you. You collapse onto his cock, sinking down with a cry as tears prick your line of vision from the overwhelming ache of pleasure.

You still move against him, trying to produce some friction, despite your words. Rafe sees how you're working, trying to please him, that he pulls you down to capture your mouth in a tender kiss, drawing out your pain with some pleasantry.

His hand cups the side of your face and you melt into his touch, the act removes all your inhibitions. When he retreats, he whispers against your lips. "Last one, okay, baby? I know you can hold out for me a little longer."

Determination courses through you.

You, with tear-stained cheeks, nods. You straighten your posture, closing your eyes and will yourself through the pain, bouncing on his cock and ignoring the burning sensation in the back of your thighs.

Rafe watches your tits bounce and uses the opportunity to capture the bar lined between your nipples, twisting and pulling them to produce pleasure for you. The additive of his touch pushes your body into overdrive and you feel yourself growing closer once again.

"Please, please, please." You beg, to anyone, anything with a higher power, to guide you through this climax. It's the hardest to peak, and you try to quicken your pace, but your legs give out and you fall flat. Rafe, knowing the familiar twitch of your walls around him, begins to assist and thrusts into you.

"I'm close, baby," he grunts, pumping forward with enough force that pushes both of you through your orgasm and riding out your highs together. You clench so tightly around him, in the aftermath, that he can barely move. 

When you feel the familiar warm pool spilling inside of you, you let him empty it all out, and when you dismount, you fall into the space beside Rafe, leaking and complete fucked out.

Rafe knows your next move is to pull to the ledge, to separate some distance between the two of you, but he doesn't give you the chance before he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. His breathing is heavy, his heart rate is fast, and he's worn out from the session.

You don't resist, letting yourself calm down with him. It isn't until he presses a soft kiss to the back of your shoulders and wipes away some of your tears that your stomach flips. "You okay?" He murmurs against your heated skin. 

You want to cry. Not from the sensation but because of how gentle he's treating you after; how it's messing with your feelings and making you think of things you shouldn't.

"I'm fine." You lie, putting your hand over his arms and peeling them off of your body before pulling to the ledge. It feels like a safety tactic nowadays.

Rafe takes it as some kind of rejection and when you move into a sitting position, back pressed against the headboard, you turn to him with a raised brow.

"Do you want to talk about it now?" You ask, doing something, anything to stop this feeling from building inside of your chest and giving you hope. You remind yourself of the transactions; the falsehood of it all.

He doesn't, especially with the distance, but he does it anyway, out of respect for your terms.

"My dad is giving away the case to Sarah."

Your lips part. "What?"

"The one with the marsh and hotel? Yeah."

You pause, taking a few seconds to gather your words. "And you're upset because it's unfair?"

He doesn't answer you immediately. He's not upset about the case itself, there's hundreds of other opportunities for him to handle business like that. Especially now knowing he could. It was the fact that it was our case, because you helped him figure it out. You were his partner.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I worked hard on it. She doesn't deserve all the credit."

You hum in understanding. "I'm sorry."

Rafe huffs. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity, it's compassion." You correct. "You're pissed and you're hurt by something your dad did to you. It's okay to feel that. I'm sorry you have to feel that."

Rafe says nothing, watching you.

His heart aches.

You’re so understanding. So perfect. He doesn’t know how to explain how every time he comes in with this need for you, for you to satisfy him physically, only to come out of it a different man. Someone better. Someone more in-tuned with himself. He never had someone like that in his life. 

He looks at you like you’re a dream but he’s afraid he isn’t yours. 

You decide to move the conversation elsewhere, not wanting to end the night in such a depressive state. "Are you staying the night?" 

“Are you kicking me out?” Rafe asks tightly. 

He wants to understand you, of where you’re ranking him at. He knows he’s going to absolutely lose it if he has to go back to Tannyhill tonight. 

"No." You declare, grabbing the comforter and throwing it over your body. You should really take a shower and clean up, but you're so exhausted right now, all you want is to go to sleep and figure it out tomorrow.

"Does that mean..." He trails off, wanting to hear you say it, wanting you to ask him.

You don't.

"Whatever you want, Rafe." You yawn, rubbing your eyes. "If you stay, you stay. If you leave, just make sure to lock the door behind you."

And with that, you fell asleep.

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

taglists: @quicksilversg1rl / @uraesthete / @maybankslover / @trshngyn / @irides-solstice / @kur0obaby / @groovycass / @emmalandry / @rivaiken / @outlawedmando / @ditzyzombiesblog / @mattyskies / @sunshinepanic / @too-deviant / @rafesgiirl l / @lafavoritaangel / @bunniii-98 / @vvvhack / @babygoddam / @cami-is-reading / @peachesmilk / @whore4fictionalman / @artemiswinnick / @janediazwindsor / @pandora-rosier1 / @solanathascientst / @itshellie / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @ella131989 / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @alyssax25 / @chopshopcheesecake / @fentyxmalik / @fleets-world / @supernaturalwriter / @taylorsmissamericanna / @hehelollmao / @lac0nically / @elysiasshit / @kravitzwhore / @tommysaxes / @ma-yangg / @carolinaxvz / @bandsbooks / @sourjoonie / @rafemotherfuckingcameron

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l ten

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[spicyclover]

You used me

Summary : It's bittersweet to think about the damage that you did.

Next part of "You betrayed me"

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

When the door closed that night, I collapsed on the floor of my kitchen, on the cold tiles. In the weeks that followed, I spent them in a blur. I kept myself busy to stop thinking, to stop thinking about you. I lived on automatism. I'm a fucking robot, because of you. I get up in the morning without motivation and go to bed with the ball in my stomach to meet you in my dreams.

I’ve been going over and over our conversation. I’m a bet. A fucking, humiliating bet. I have never been more shame than that evening. Everyone knew and no one told me. They knew that I loved you so bad, and I let you treat me like that. I'm so naïve. I just want myself back. I just wanted to be enough. Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded? Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing? But don't tell me you're sorry. You should feel sorry for yourself. An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean.

Once the door was closed. My friends left with you. Because you bring them more than I could ever and it hurts like hell. To see these "friends" I know since my early childhood mock me for my naivety. Until this day, it is hard to believe. I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one, In a short time you became the reason I get up in the morning and the reason I like to dream. And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone.

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that you did. You betrayed me.

For the first time since we broke up, I saw you in the street. You had your arm on a new girl. Showing her off like she's a new trophy. A happy and rested look on your face. I wish I dared to come running and punch that smile off your face, but I couldn’t move. You hang out in public with her, but never with me. I went home with tears in my eyes and no morale. It was the first time I managed to leave home after weeks of moping.

The more time passed, the more I felt my head getting out of the water. My body was less numb and I started breathing again, enjoying what I used to love. I adopted a little puppy at this time of my life, the kind we talked about in our long late-night discussion about our future together. You gave me your word. He's the world to me now. Milo, the dog.

The late afternoon often takes me to the beach. I let Milo run on the deserted beach and play with the waves. I take advantage of this moment of calm to observe the sunset. I breathe in and out deeply, letting my last thoughts of you go into the sea. I feel free. After three months of hell, I’m back to normal, like you never existed.

"Hi, bab..." That voice is yours. Why do you come back? Why do you haunt me like that? I turn around and there you are, in all your splendour. Your curls are more beautiful than ever, your face more beautiful than ever. I can't let you win. I walk away from the beach. Milo follows me. I feel your eyes following me soon it's your footsteps I hear. "Please, Y/n, I need to talk to you."

"I think you said enough. You should go back to your new girlfriend. I think she's getting lonely." I said without looking back. The waves fade and I feel your hand grab my arm.

[mountttmase]

Don’t Get Caught

Note - lil bit of cheeky dad Mase to round off our Monday. I hope you’re all good and I hope you enjoy this 🩷 smut has not been smutting for me in a while so let’s see 😂 feedback would be appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 3k

Warnings - smut

‘So it’s just a shed?’

‘No Mason, it’s not just a shed’ Declan huffed. Annoyed by Mason downplaying his new purchase that he was proudly showing the pair of you around. Not that you could see much as it was dark outside and for the most part his new summer house was just an empty shell bar some cupboards. ‘I’ve got someone coming tomorrow to wire the electrics so the lights work, then I’m getting a tv installed, a mini fridge, like you name and I’ll probably have it, it’s gonna be immense’

‘What does Lauren think of all this?’ You asked, shining your torch round so you could see more of the space but it really was a work in progress right now.

‘She’ll have her section too, don’t worry. And I’m getting her one of those outdoor sofa set things she’s always wanted to go by the hot tub outside, plus a new swing for Jude. They’ll love it’

You were about to ask another question when his phone began to ring, Lauren’s photo flashing up on the screen but the more she spoke the more displeased his face became until he was hanging up with a huff.

‘Ah for fucks sake, Madders has thrown up in the guest room, I need to go and kick his arse’ he sighed, his hand running over his face like he didn’t want to deal with it and you couldn’t say you didn’t blame him as you tried to hold in a laugh.

‘Sounds grim’ Mason chuckled, making his way over to you in the dark and holding you at your waist. ‘We’ll be back in soon, yeah? I just wanna have a look round a bit more’

‘Yeah yeah take your time, I’ll see you inside later’ Dec mumbled before leaving the pair of you alone. Watching him trudge back to the house with his shoulders slumped before you turned to Mason who you could just about make out in the dark.

‘Look round what, Mason? It’s a shed with a counter and a few cupboards’ you asked, turning in his grip and resting your hands on his chest as he pulled you closer and even in the dark you could see his pretty smile.

‘I don’t think Dec would be too happy if he heard you say that’ He laughed and you rolled your eyes playfully. ‘What do you think anyway? Would you like a summer house?’

‘Maybe’ you shrugged. Trying to imagine something similar in your own garden. ‘Would be fun to have movie nights with Ollie in something like this, like we could get blankets and those big bean bags things. Maybe some nice fairy lights so we can get all cozy’

‘You could also use it as somewhere when you need some time away from the boys’ he winked, pulling away from you as he took a better look around and it clicked in your brain that what he meant by it.

‘Oh I see, you just want it for you’ you laughed and he knew he’d been caught out as you heard him try to contain his giggles. ‘Come on, what would you have in here then?’

‘Well I’d get a tv definitely, and I like the idea of a mini fridge…’ Mason started but you didn’t listen to the rest of it. The thought of the three of you all snuggled under a blanket in something similar in your own home made your heart thump and the need to check Ollie was okay washed over you.

Ollie was at home with Lewis, the latter staying for a few days as he had a few appointments with Mason he needed to plan and it was always easier to do it when they were together rather than over the phone. Thankfully he was more than happy to look after Ollie for the evening so you and Mason could go to the joint birthday party that Dec was throwing at his house for the pair of them.

Lewis hadn’t texted and he was under strict instructions not to unless there was an emergency so the pair of you could have some time out, but you missed your little boy and you needed to check on him. Your finger hovering over the call button but before you could press it you felt Masons hands at your waist again.

‘Are you even listening to me?’ He laughed, shaking you slightly until you looked at him and you could tell from the look in his eye he knew what you were doing.

‘Sorry Mase’ you sighed, holding your phone to your chest as he pulled you closer. ‘I just wanted to check in and make sure Ollie is alright’

‘He’s probably asleep baby, Lewis knows what he’s doing’

‘I know, I just wanted to be sure’

‘Hand it over’ he smirked, laying his palm out flat for you to put your phone into but you just shook your head and held it closer to your chest.

‘No Mase it’s fine, I’ll keep it away’

‘Why don’t you turn it off?’

‘Yeah Mase, real sensible’ you laughed, rolling your eyes as you put it back in your bag as Mason placed a kiss on your forehead.

‘Come on, Ollie is fine. I know it’s weird being without him but why don’t we take our minds off it a bit?’ He shrugged, not picking up on the cheeky tone to his voice at the end but you were curious about what he was going to suggest.

‘How?’

‘You wanna play a game?’ He asked, backing you up against the cupboards just behind you and you let him do it until you couldn't move anymore. Your bum hitting the top of the counter and you looked up at him curiously.

‘Depends, what did you have in mind?’

‘A little one I like to call, don’t get caught’ he whispered whilst hiking you up to sit on the counter by your thighs. ‘Never played it before but I thought it might be fun’ he smiled as he squeezed your thighs. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all day’

‘Mason’ you warned but he just smiled and kissed you heavily. Knowing he pretty much always got his way in situations like this and your resolve would crumble soon enough.

‘Come on baby, I know you want to’ he teased before kissing you again and when Mason kissed you like this you knew exactly what it meant. ‘I haven't had you in days and I won’t be able to again for a while’

He was right. He’d been away for a few days for a game and tomorrow he’d be off again for a training camp so tonight was really the only time you had to be physical. You just thought it would come later on when the pair of you were in bed not outside in the middle of Decs new purchase.

‘You know I’ll make it worth your while, baby’ he whispered. Lips ghosting your jaw before he playfully bit your earlobe and when his kisses started to travel down your neck you felt your body turn to jelly.

‘Won’t everyone be able to see?’ You asked, looking towards the floor to ceiling sliding glass doors that were just to the right of you and you gulped nervously.

‘We can barely see each other, gorgeous. Don't worry I won’t let anyone see you, you’re for my eyes only yeah?’

‘Okay’ you whispered. Letting him kiss you again as you gave into his desires as in this moment you wanted him just as much.

‘I’m gonna make you feel so good you’ll forget your own name, pretty girl’ he whispered against your lips and even though his sentiment made you smile you knew he meant it. When Mason had had a bit to drink his mouth tended to run away with him and when you were being intimate it was no different. This version of Mason liked to talk you through it. To pull the strings and tease you into oblivion until you were a mess beneath him and you knew if he got his way tonight you’d be in for a wild ride

Before you knew it, you felt his fingers trail over your thighs and under your dress. Gripping your bum so he could pull you forward and rest you just on the edge of the counter but thankfully it wasn’t very wide and you were able to lean back and rest against the wall as his fingers danced over the front of your underwear.

‘You can’t tell me you don’t tell me you don’t want this, you’re dripping for me’ he growled, fingers circling just where you needed them over your underwear and it only took a beat for you to start grinding your hips to meet his movements. ‘See, there we go. You know exactly what to do don’t you?’

You let him tease you a little while longer as he kissed you roughly but soon enough he was finally pushing your dress up higher and gripping the top of your underwear so he could pull them from your legs. The cold air hitting you and making you hiss before you could just about make out him stuffing the black lace into his back pocket.

‘Hands on my shoulders baby, need you to hold on tight yeah?’ He told you, hearing him pull down the zip on his trousers and shuffle his boxers about just enough to free himself and you clenched around nothing in anticipation of what you were about to do.

As soon as you felt his tip pushing against your entrance his lips were on yours. Swallowing your moans as he eased himself into you slowly but you were surprised about how easy it was since there was no foreplay involved and you were just getting straight down to business.

He still took his time though. Moving slowly in and out of you so you could both adjust and the small whimpers and moans falling from both of your lips just egged the other on until your brain was foggy with pleasure.

‘Remember when we first met, you told me you were a good girl’ he spoke against your lips before kissing along your jaw softly. ‘I’m not so sure i believe you anymore’

‘I’m a good girl for you’

‘And only me, right?’ he sighed, resting his forehead on yours as he kept his pace steady. ‘You’re mine, and you’re always gonna be mine’

‘Masey’

‘What is it baby? What does my good girl want?’

‘Harder please’ you whimpered, wanting him to lose control a little bit as you knew he was holding back until you were comfortable but you were ready to have all of him now.

‘Yeah? You think you can take it’ he asked, hands grabbing your wrists so he could tug them away from his shoulders and before you knew it he had your wrists crossed above your head. Holding them together with one hand so they were against the wall whilst his other hand gripped your waist to hold you still. His hips picking up pace just like you wanted him to and you let a loud moan slip past your lips.

‘So fucking innocent but just look at you. Begging for me like this’ he growled, his words making your tummy flip but you couldn’t answer as he moved his hand to rest on your lower stomach before applying a little pressure. You knew he could feel himself inside of you from the profanities that were falling from his lips but the new sensation had rendered you speechless as your eyes rolled back in your head.

‘You love that I’m fucking you in here don’t you, I bet you want the whole world to see’ he grunted. His thumb now moving back to circle over you as he still applied pressure to your tummy and you almost screamed from how good you felt. ‘Want everyone to know how good I give it to you and how good you can take it’

‘Mase, please’ you cried, so overwhelmed with everything he was giving you that they were the only two words you could remember right now but he just carried on snapping his hips back and forth deliciously.

‘Thats it, say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this good’

You felt Masons hand move away from you, giving you a bit of needed relief as you felt like you were about to explode but you saw him reaching into the back pocket of his jeans until he pulled out his phone.

‘Mase? W-what are you doing?’

‘Shhhh it’s okay. I just need it, need to remember what you feel like when I’m away next week’ he stuttered. ‘My eyes only, remember? You trust me?’

‘With everything’ you whispered back. Recording each other was something you’d never done before but you couldn’t deny the idea made your tummy flutter and you did trust him. He was your husband and the father of your child after all but even though this new idea scared you slightly it also thrilled you.

‘Good girl’ he chuckled, smiling as he placed a reassuring kiss to your lips, promising again it was just for him before he pointed the camera down to where the pair of you met started to record himself slipping in and out of you. The whole act turning you on more than you thought it would and the moans that left your lips were sinful.

‘Look at you, can’t get enough can you?’ he whispered, looking up to see his face slightly illuminated from the light on his phone and the first thing you noticed was how wild his eyes were. ‘You feel so unreal’

‘Masey, I’m so close’

‘I know gorgeous’ he whispered. Shutting his phone off so you were both in darkness again and his free hand returned to your waist to hold you still. ‘I need you to hold it for me though yeah? Just for a minute, okay?’

‘Mase’

‘I know I know, I’ll make it worth your while though, I promise’ he told you. Finally lowering your arms back onto his shoulders so he could get a better grip on you and your fingers got lost in his hair as he rested his forehead on yours again. ‘Just wait for me, yeah?’

‘Okay’ you whimpered. Trying your best to hold off but it was difficult and the way Mason was moaning into your mouth didn’t make it any easier.

‘That’s my girl’ he grunted, eventually hiding his face in your neck so he could focus on reaching his high but as the seconds went on you felt like you were about to explode as his lips connected with your sweet spot.

‘Go on baby, let go for me’ he told you, keeping his pace steady until your high rippled through you. Letting him continue to talk in your ear until he was softly biting your shoulder as he came undone himself.

It was quiet for a few moments, just the sound of your breathing mixed together as you caught your breath with your heads hidden away from each other but soon enough he was looking back up at you with a shy smile on his face.

‘That video, I can delete it if you want me too. I just got caught up in the moment I’m not sure what came over me’ he chuckled. Tucking some stray hairs behind your ear before kissing your forehead softly.

‘No it’s okay, you can keep it. As long as it gets hidden somewhere’

‘Really? You don’t mind?’

‘Well I prefer the thought of you watching me rather than random people on a weird website’ you laughed, cupping his jaw so you could place a gentle kiss on his lips before he quickly grabbed his phone again.

‘It’s gone straight into my hidden, yeah?’ He showed you, using the Face ID to show you its new home and you blushed as you caught sight of the multiple pictures of you in your underwear he also kept in that folder. ‘Under lock and key along with all my other naughty photos of you’

‘You’re terrible’ you laughed, your breath catching as he finally slipped out of you but he was quick to kiss you again before he readjusted himself and did his trousers back up.

‘And you are the love of my life. Thank you for playing along’

‘Let’s just hope Dec doesn’t find out what we’ve done’ you laughed, letting him help you down onto the floor as he adjusted your dress but your legs were still shaky for your high and you had to grip Mason’s arm for support. ‘Can I have my underwear back now?’

‘I’ll think about it’ he winked and with one final kiss you made your exit and rejoined the rest of the party.

[valkyrieeeee]

You Faint | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Fainting due to Dehydration and being busy, mentions of not eating, mentions of not drinking water, kissing, Implied Female reader, Established relationship

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

In the flurry of your responsibilities as a personal assistant to the CEO of a massive corporation, every second counts, every task critical to the smooth functioning of the business. Despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach and the parched feeling in your throat, you soldier on, driven by the need to ensure that everything operates seamlessly for your employer.

Hours blur together as you navigate the demands of the corporate world, your own needs pushed to the sidelines in the relentless pursuit of success. The weight of expectations presses down on you with each passing moment, propelling you forward even as exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you. You don't have time to notice the way your limbs grow heavy with fatigue, the world around you fading into a distant blur as you push yourself beyond your limits.

But as the day wears on, your body begins to rebel against the neglect it's been subjected to. Dizziness clouds your vision, a warning sign of the toll the day's exertions have taken. With every step, your limbs grow heavier, protesting against the punishing pace you've been maintaining.

And then, without warning, it all becomes too much. Your vision blurs, black spots dancing at the edges as dizziness overwhelms your senses. Your knees buckle beneath you, unable to support the weight of your weakened body, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, darkness claims you.

As consciousness slowly seeps back into your awareness, you find yourself nestled on the plush couch of the CEO's office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Your head throbs with the remnants of your fainting spell, a dull ache echoing through your skull.

Blinking groggily, you glance around the room, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. To your surprise, you find yourself surrounded by two or three other assistants, their faces etched with concern as they hover nearby, murmuring amongst themselves.

"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asks, her voice laced with worry as she kneels beside you, her hand hovering over your forehead. "You gave us quite a scare there."

You nod weakly, the events of the day slowly coming back to you in fragmented pieces. "I... I think so," you mumble, your words slurred with exhaustion.

The other assistants exchange worried glances, their concern palpable in the air. "You should rest for a bit," another assistant suggests, her tone gentle as she helps you sit up, offering you a glass of water.

Taking a sip, you feel the cool liquid soothe your parched throat, the sensation a welcome relief. As you lean back against the cushions, you're grateful for the support of your colleagues, their presence a comforting reminder that you're not alone in your struggles.

"Thanks," you murmur, offering them a weak smile. "I appreciate it."

"We were so worried about you," one of them says, her voice filled with genuine concern. "You gave us quite the scare."

You offer a weak smile, still feeling disoriented and unsure of what happened. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your words barely audible.

Another assistant nods sympathetically. "We called for help," she explains gently. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."

You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Called for help." you repeat, the words sinking in slowly.

Your mind feels foggy, memories hazy and fragmented, making it difficult to grasp the severity of the situation. The concern in the assistant's eyes only adds to your growing sense of unease, prompting a knot of anxiety to tighten in your chest.

Before anyone can elaborate further, the door to the CEO's office swings open, and Chan rushes in, his expression a mix of panic and relief. "I got here as fast as I could," he says breathlessly, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You swallow hard, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. They called Chan, your emergency contact, before they even called the paramedics. You feel a pang of guilt knowing that he's here now, worrying about you, when you hadn't wanted to burden him.

As Chan rushes to your side, his expression a mix of relief and concern, you can see the worry etched into every line of his face. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to grasp yours, his touch both reassuring and desperate.

"I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I fainted, I think."

Chan's eyes widen with alarm, his grip on your hand tightening. "You fainted?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. Chan's concern deepens, his brows furrowing with worry. "Do you know why?" he asks gently. "Did you eat today? Drink enough water?"

You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the guilt of neglecting your own well-being weighing heavily on you. "I... I may have forgotten," you admit sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

His expression softens with understanding, but a flicker of frustration dances in his eyes. "Y/N.."

"I just didn't have time," you whine, feeling the weight of his disappointment settle over you. "I have deadlines to meet, and it's been really busy here with the CEO prepping for a major partnership with another company. Plus, I'm in line for a promotion, Chan. If I do well, it's almost guaranteed. But if I fail, then I have no shot."

Chan's expression doesn’t give much away, but his resolve remains firm. "It's not that important," he insists, his tone gentle but firm. "There will always be other opportunities. Your health should come first."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Not everyone can lead and be super talented like you, Chan," you argue, your voice tinged with emotion. "Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up."

"I know it feels that way," he says gently, as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. "You're already doing more than enough," he assures you, his gaze unwavering. "But your health should never be sacrificed for success."

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words settling over you. "I know," you whisper, your voice heavy with resignation.

Chan's hums at your response, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before he reluctantly withdraws. "Let's go home," he says gently, " You need rest."

With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch, your legs trembling beneath you as the full extent of your exhaustion becomes apparent. Chan's eyes widen in concern as he notices your struggle, his expression softening with empathy.

"Here, let me help you," he says, moving to your side and slipping an arm around your waist for support.

You lean into him gratefully, feeling the warmth of his embrace. With Chan's steadying presence, you manage to make your way out of the CEO's office and towards the elevator, your fatigue pressing down on you with each step.

As you reach the lobby, Chan guides you towards the exit, but when you attempt to take a step forward, your legs buckle beneath you, weakened by fatigue. Chan's eyes widen in alarm, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he catches you before you fall.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You nod weakly, feeling embarrassed by your inability to stand on your own two feet. "I'm just... really tired," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, Chan sweeps you up into his arms, his strength a reassuring presence against your exhausted frame. "Let's get you home," he says softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nestle into his embrace, feeling safe and secure in his arms as he carries you out of the building and towards the waiting car.

Once you're settled into the car, Chan drives you home with careful attention, his concern never wavering as he steals glances at you from time to time. When you finally arrive at your apartment, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

As you enter the cozy sanctuary of your home, Chan guides you towards the couch. However, he senses your hesitation, the way you lean heavily on him as if struggling to keep your balance.

"You need to rest," he insists softly, his voice laced with concern as he helps you settle onto the cushions. Despite his gentle urging, you remain silent, the weariness evident in every line of your body.

"I feel gross," you finally murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, admitting to the discomfort that weighs heavily on you.

Chan's brows furrow with worry, his gaze searching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. Seeing your distress, he nods in understanding.

"Would you like to take a shower?" he suggests gently, his tone filled with empathy. He waits patiently for your response, ready to provide the support and comfort you need

You shake your head slowly, a feeling of exhaustion washing over you. "I don't think I have the energy," you confess, feeling a pang of guilt at the admission.

Chan's expression fills with empathy as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "That's okay," he reassures you, his voice soft and comforting. "Why don't we start with something smaller? Like washing your hair?"

You blink back tears, starting to feel overwhelmed. "I just... I feel so drained," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

Chan nods sympathetically, his gaze filled with compassion. "I understand," he says softly, his words a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay?

As Chan helps you make your way to the bathroom, you feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at your limbs. With his steady support, you settle on the edge of the bathtub, feeling drained and weak. Chan kneels beside you, his gentle hands reaching for the shower head. His concerned gaze meeting yours.

"Lean back," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet bathroom. You obey, allowing your head to rest against the edge of the tub as Chan pours the water over your hair, the liquid cascading down in a comforting stream.

The sensation of the warm water against your scalp is both soothing and revitalizing, washing away the weariness that has settled deep within your bones. Chan's touch is tender, his fingers massaging your scalp with care as he works shampoo into your hair, creating a rich lather that fills the air with a subtle scent of eucalyptus.

As Chan tenderly tends to your needs, a wave of helplessness crashes over you, leaving you feeling small and useless. The inability to perform even the simplest tasks on your own gnaws at you, a constant reminder of your vulnerability. You watch as Chan effortlessly takes care of everything, his competence highlighting your own shortcomings.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you struggle to suppress the rising tide of frustration and self-doubt. "I hate feeling like this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the bitterness of inadequacy.

"Like what?" Chan's voice is gentle, his concern evident as he seeks to understand you.

"Helpless," you confess, the word heavy with emotion.

Chan notices the heaviness in your sigh and the sorrow in your eyes, and his heart aches with empathy. Leaning closer, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

"You're not helpless, love," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You're just taking a break. Everyone needs a little help sometimes, even superheroes like you."

His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with love and understanding.

"You're my baby," he whispers, "And I'll always be here to take care of you, no matter what."

As Chan rinses the shampoo from your hair, the water running clear and pure, you feel a sense of renewal wash over you. With each gentle stroke of his hands, you can feel your energy slowly returning, a flicker of hope igniting within your chest.

When the task is finally complete, Chan reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your shoulders with care. He helps you to stand, guiding you away from the bathtub.

"Let's dry your hair a bit so you don't go to bed with it wet," he suggests, his lips forming a shy smile. He grabs a hairdryer, carefully adjusting the settings before starting to blow dry your hair, the warm air a comforting embrace against your skin.

As he works, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, the sound of the hairdryer a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Chan concentrates intently, his brow furrowing as he focuses on the task at hand. His brow furrows in concentration, his lips pursed in determination as he attempts to weave the strands of your hair into a braid. With each failed attempt, a mixture of frustration and amusement flickers across his features, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.

You can't help but find his earnest efforts endearing, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you watch him work. The sound fills the small bathroom, mingling with the gentle patter of water droplets.

"Where did you learn to braid?" you ask, genuine curiosity in your tone.

Chan looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I've been teaching myself," he admits, his fingers still fumbling with the strands of your hair. "I thought... one day, when we have kids together, I want to be able to braid their hair. I want to be the kind of dad who can do that."

His vulnerability touches your heart, and you reach out to gently squeeze his hand, a tender smile playing on your lips. "You'll be an amazing dad," you assure him, your voice filled with love and admiration. "And you're already an amazing partner."

"I want to be better,"he says softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For you."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips are soft against yours. As he pulls away, his eyes shimmering with adoration, he presses another tender kiss to your forehead before returning to his task.

"You did great," Chan whispers, his voice filled with pride and admiration, as he guides you to your bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, comforting light across the room as he fusses over you, fluffing pillows and tucking blankets around you until you're cocooned in warmth.

With gentle hands, he arranges the pillows behind you, ensuring you're propped up just right for maximum comfort. He tucks the blankets snugly around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring as he ensures every corner is tucked in securely.

After making sure you're settled, Chan disappears into the kitchen, the faint clinking of dishes drifting through the air as he prepares your meal. Moments later, he returns with a tray laden with food – a simple yet nourishing meal, prepared with love.

The aroma of home-cooked food fills the room, mingling with the soft scent of freshly laundered sheets. Chan sets the tray down on your bedside table, arranging the dishes with care before settling in beside you.

As you eat, Chan sits close by, his warmth radiating beside you. He regales you with stories and jokes, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy and ease. Each tale is punctuated by his infectious laughter, and despite your weariness, you can't help but smile at his antics.

As you finish your meal, feeling the warmth of the food spreading through your body, Chan rises from his seat beside you, his movements fluid and graceful as he clears away the dishes. The clinking of plates and silverware fills the air as he tidies up, his attention to detail evident in every gesture.

Once the dishes are cleared, Chan returns to your side, settling in beside you on the bed. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, soothing away the remnants of tension that linger in your muscles.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. Chan presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch a silent reassurance that everything will be okay.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. As he speaks, he guides your hand to his chest, letting you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath his shirt.

"Every time you're in pain or in danger," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like my whole world stops."

You feel a lump form in your throat, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "It wasn't on purpose."

Chan shakes his head, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go. "I know," he says softly. "But I need you to promise me something."

"What?" you ask.

"Promise me that you'll always try your best to care of yourself," he says, his tone earnest. "Promise me that you won't push yourself too hard, that you'll listen to your body and prioritize your health."

You meet his gaze, seeing the depth of his concern reflected in his eyes. With a nod, you offer him a small smile, filled with gratitude and determination.

"I promise," you vow, your voice steady with conviction.

Chan's eyes soften, a tender smile playing on his lips. "And I promise in return," he says softly, "to always be there when you need me, or a little extra help."

He settles back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you're both comfortable. As you nestle into each other, Chan reaches for the remote control, flicking through the channels until he finds a movie that catches your interest.

The soft glow of the TV bathes the room in a warm, flickering light as the movie begins to play. You rest your head against Chan's chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat getting faster beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of the love and stability that he brings into your life.

As the movie unfolds, you lose yourself in the story, the worries and stresses of the day fading into the background. With Chan by your side, you feel safe and at peace, cocooned in a bubble of love and warmth.

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

[delulujuls]

young, dumb & bwoke | ln4

hi! as u can see i couldn't stop myself from writing about last saturday events in amsterdam with mr norris as main star (he was more popular than the king himself lmao). lando is literally what i always bring to the function and yup, enjoy him being the chaotic drunk bestie while max and y/n are his literal party parents. its nothing crazy and without plot basically, i just added sum to this years' koningsdag so yeah, enjoy!

summary: there is nothing that lando loves more than a good party and his beloved dutch friends so imagine him with drink in his cup surrounded by whole orange nation. it could be nuts and it was

warnings: TONS of alcohol, lando being drunk (and hurted), mentions of blood, basically sum chaos

pairing: fem!dutch!bff!reader x lando norris (ft. max verstappen)

Lando couldn't wait for the plane he was on to break through the heavy cloud cover and land in Amsterdam.

China and Miami, which were the next rounds on the calendar, were separated by two weeks that were nothing else, in Lando's case, than a time of stagnation. Add to this the fact that Lando had bad memories of his performance in China and, what's worse, the sprint he failed so badly and which constantly played in his head like a jammed record, one could go crazy. That's why the Brit was extremely happy when he received an invitation to spend the weekend in the capital of the Netherlands. He was invited to Amsterdam to celebrate King Willem's birthday by none other than his favorite flying Dutch.

The friendship of Y/N, Max and Lando began in 2019, practically from the very moment he entered Formula 1. The kid, who was barely 20 years old but looked like 12, immediately won over the Dutch couple with his smile and sense of humor, who, due to their sometimes severe temperament, could not boast of having many friends in the paddock. Even though the three friends were only two years apart, Max and Y/N naturally became Lando's racing parents, with whom the Brit spent practically every moment, from time in the paddock, through celebrating on the podium, to time away from competitions. So it was no surprise when they invited him to spend the weekend together, to which he, of course, eagerly agreed.

When the plane landed, Lando pulled the hood of his orange sweatshirt over his head and slung his backpack over his shoulder, in which he packed everything he might need for the coming days. As you could guess, there wasn't much of it, he actually had everything he needed on him and the most important part was an oversized orange sweatshirt. Waiting for him at the airport was Y/N, who couldn't wait to see him. She didn't have to wait too long, because a moment later he walked out in front of the terminal. Y/N smiled as she saw her friend walking towards her and she hugged him tightly.

"You knew I was coming, you could have asked the king for better weather," Lando joked, trying to sound serious, which only made the girl giggle.

"If you think that the weather will have any influence on what will happen in the evening, then unfortunately I will have to disappoint you," she replied, getting into the car. "It's already starting to get crowded in downtown, and it's not even noon."

Lando threw his backpack into the backseat and got into the passenger side. He smiled like a child, looking forward to how the weekend would unfold. It looked like he would spend a nice few days, able to finally de-stress and relax, and in the company of friends. But speaking of friends, one of them was missing.

"And where's Max?" he asked as they left the airport and were on their way to the girl's apartment. "I thought he had been waiting for me with the welcome committee since yesterday."

"He's already in town, I dropped him off while I was on my way to pick you up."

"He's fast," Lando laughed and shook his head, "I hope he's still on his feet when we get to him."

At that moment, Lando didn't think about the fact that no one else but himself would be able to stay on his feet. When the Brit set off for Amsterdam, he obviously expected to spend two days drunk, with legs sore from dancing and a sore throat from singing, but he forgot that he has absolutely no immunity to alcohol.

When the three friends were finally together, alcohol quickly appeared in their hands. Y/N and Max started with beer, but Lando had no intention of wasting his time drinking something that would only cause pressure on his bladder. As soon as he boarded one of the barges floating on the Herenbracht Canal, he drank several shots at once. Y/N and Max just exchanged glances as he drank the drink standing on Garrix's console in one gulp, who didn't care one bit about it, being already in a good mood himself.

"I'm a little worried about how this might end," Max said in her ear as she took a sip of her cider, watching Lando jump happily.

"Even if he's drunk, so what," she replied, handing him her bottle and taking away the body paints in circulation, "He didn't come here to be bored."

Max was about to say something, but she pushed his hand slightly, bringing the bottle he was holding to his lips. Max shook his head and took a few sips from it, while the girl started painting flags on his cheeks. When she finished, she waved them up, attracting Lando's attention, who understood what she meant and nodded eagerly. The girl squeezed through the console and stood next to him, leaning him against the barge rails, because Lando had trouble not bobbing to the music for a moment.

The smile that never left his face wrinkled his cheeks, on which she tried to paint Dutch flags. When she finished and turned to pass the paints, Lando took off her sunglasses and put them on himself.

"Have a drink with me!" Lando shouted, holding out his empty cup to her, and she raised her cider bottle in response. He rolled his eyes in dissatisfaction when suddenly a bottle of vodka appeared in the crowd and someone handed it straight to his hands. Without much thought, Lando unscrewed the cap and took a few sips as if the contents were water, which of course met with the crowd's approval.

Y/N took the bottle from his hands, fearing not the amount Lando drank, but the relatively short time it took him to do so. However, not wanting to seem boring, she tilted the bottle herself, letting the liquid burn her throat. Delighted, Lando clapped his hands and hugged his friend, causing some of the alcohol to flow down her chin. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist as well, and raised her hand in a toast, which was joined by everyone who had something to drink.

Max also raised his beer bottle a bit. However, somewhere in the background of his mind there was an image of Lando and what he would look like in the near future. However, the Brit himself did not care at all about this. As long as he was in the company of his friends, his plastic cup was full and he could jump to the music and sing along, he was happy. Even the fact that his face was in the wrong place at the wrong time, when someone, completely by accident, punched him in the face, didn't disturb it.

Y/N, who also decided to pick up the pace after drinking her cider, immediately sobered up when she saw blood on her friend's face. She quickly pressed a tissue to his nose, but he tried to assure her that he was fine. His brain didn't encode the impact or the pain, didn't acknowledge that he was bleeding, even when he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood on them. People in the crowd started calling out to each other to see if anyone had a first aid kit. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bandage appeared, and just as Y/N, being drunk, thought it would be a great idea to wrap Lando's face in a bandage, Max started asking people if they somehow had band aids. He couldn't let that dumbass parade around like that for the rest of the evening.

“I've sobered up a bit, I can keep drinking,” he said as Y/N finished clumsily bandaging his face, “I probably look worse that i did when i crashed in Vegas.”

Her friend tried to be serious, but it was impossible to stay serious around Lando. "You have to be careful, Lan," she said, trying to retain some sanity and touching his cheek, looking into his eyes, "I hope it's not broken."

"Bwoken," he repeated in silly voice, giggling "Oh no, it couldn't be bwoken"

"Honestly, i also hope it is not," Max interjected when he managed to rejoin his friends after some time, "Getting to the hospital now would be a near miracle."

"Hey, I'm fine," he said as Max waved the Band-Aids in his face and began to remove the clumsy bandage into which their friend had probably poured her whole heart and a few drinks that she drank earlier.

"I'm glad you don't feel anything, but that doesn't change the fact that I won't look at it," he replied, lifting his chin and examining his nose from every angle. Luckily this one seemed fine.

Once Max had placed two tiny patches on him, Y/N handed him his mug with a fresh drink again. "Brave patient," she smiled at him.

"In a state like this, I'd be surprised if he felt something," Max admitted, taking a bottle of vodka standing nearby. He decided that since Lando had had an accident, nothing worse awaited them and he could allow himself to loosen a bit more. He took a few sips and handed the bottle to the younger one, who smiled, tightening his hand around it. He looked at his friends standing in front of him, slightly drunk but still fully focused on him. He knew he was important to them and that he is not alone in all this madness.

"I love you guys," he said, with a bottle in his hand, pushing himself off the railing and hugging them, "You are the best in the world, simply the best."

The rest of the day and later in the evening took place in a great atmosphere and the party lasted until 3. in the morning. For the rest of Amsterdam it probably lasted longer, but for Lando it began to end after two o'clock, when he was barely able to stand. Partly from being drunk, partly from being tired. He didn't stand still during a single song, so the next day, apart from his face, his legs will certainly be visible. Taking a break for something warm to eat, Max, Y/N, and Lando sat down at one of the wooden tables. While waiting for their orders, Lando rested his head on Y/N's shoulder and closed his eyes. It was obvious that he just needed something to lean on to fall asleep.

"I think it's time for us to go," the girl announced, directing her words to Max. "The baby is only fit for bed now."

"He's been in great shape for a long time anyway, judging by how much he was on his feet today," Max concluded, glancing first at him and then at the girl, "But you're holding up pretty well, aren't you?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded and hugged Lando, who began to slide off her shoulder, "But I'm also getting sleepy."

"Me too," Max rubbed his face with his hands, "At least we can be sure that no one will wake us up first thing in the morning to explore the city."

He said, glancing at Lando, who was dozing with his mouth open on his friend's shoulder. After eating casseroles and fries, which were for Lando and which he was unable to eat, the three of them went to the girl's apartment. Of course, only she and Max were walking on their own, Lando was between them, leaning on their arms. He was muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, so it was obvious that he was alive and everything was fine, besides the fact that he was completely drunk.

When they arrived at the address and crossed the threshold of the apartment, they immediately went to put him in the bedroom, not wasting time in unfolding the couch for him. Max was in the process of stripping him of his shoes, pants, bloody sweatshirt, and all the necklaces and ribbons he had collected the previous day, while Y/N placed a large bottle of water, painkillers, and a bucket by his bed, as if the contents of his stomach had suddenly decided that they wants to get outside. However, there was no indication that Lando was going to have a restless night, because he started snoring softly as soon as his cheek touched the pillow. Max covered him with the blanket and took a few steps away from the bed, standing next to his friend who was looking at the sleeping boy.

"Can you hear that?" Max whispered, glancing at her, and she frowned questioningly, "It's silence, listen to it, because when he gets up, the only thing you can hear will be his lamentations about how hungover he is."

The girl snorted quietly and shook her head, taking Lando's clothes to the laundry.

"The most important thing is that he had a good time. And a little hangover never killed nobody."

The next day, however, did not bring anything unexpected. When Lando woke up, the first thing that hit him was a terrible headache that got worse when he sat down and tried to get out of bed. When he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, Y/N and Max's eyes immediately went towards him and Lando could swear that they looked like they spent the entire last evening on the couch.

"Hi honey, did you sleep well?" Max asked playfully, in the perfect mood for jokes since he himself was fine after last night.

Lando just blinked several times and wanted to wipe his face with his hands and collect some words to answer, but when he touched his cut nose, he cursed loudly.

"What the fuck?"

"A souvenir from yesterday," the girl answered him, getting up from the couch and taking out a frozen package from the fridge, which she handed to him, "I recommend a shower and I'll make you some coffee."

He closed his eyes and put the package to his nose, sighing and grabbing the bathroom door handle. Before he disappeared, Max just shouted after him.

"And don't puke in the shower!"

[dolldefiler]

My ldr boyfriend used to talk to me the same way you speak.

One day his sex drive vanished and its been a year since we've done anything sexual together.

I literally fucking adore your blog. I check it the moment I wake up. I check it throughout the day. I check it before I sleep. Your writing is downright hypnotic.

I find I need juuuust the right amount of stress in my life to be able to write like this. Too much and I won't have the time to write. Too little and jerking off to porn would scratch the itches I have. It's a shame his sex drive's disappeared, but I'm sure we can do something about your sex drive, can't we? Mhm?

Would you like that? Depraved, sickly words that can make your cunt just throb again? Words that'll make finger fuck yourself every night, thinking of your boyfriend pounding into you in just the right ways? ...Or maybe, you'd like him to do it in all the wrong ways too? To train your pretty little asshole over his cock or to choke you out while you silently plead for air?

You'd be too busy trying to say sane to complain at that point, wouldn't you? You wouldn't need to jerk off every morning and night to the words of some stranger online. You could feel his hands holding you while his cock ravages you and fucks you stupid. That's all you need in the end, isn't it? To be shown your place as a three-holed sextoy for the man you love.

[pinkyqil]

Braids and shades // salma paralluelo x r

Summary : you and salma have a beach day while you also help her take out her braids in the sunny shades ⛱

Warning : slight cursing

A/n : cheers to more annoying gf salma I honestly love writing these especially when it beach theme like who doesn't love salma and beaches together so here's another one I'm also doing a 3 player prompt so feel free to send in a player, prompt and location like this one anyway hope y'all enjoy this small blurb and as always feedbacks are appreciated 💗

PART1

Today was on of those days where yours and salma off days macht.

meaning you both could spend the whole day together without one of you having a busy schedule and not begin able to make it to any of your plans or having to leave mid-date. today would be very different as you both had a three days off that ended up matching both your schedule.

Excitement filled both you and salma has you both already planned what to do together.

a divider date where one person planes the beginning while the other planes the rest. You've already done your part in planning the first half which consisted of surprising salma with breakfast in bed which was rare as she always had to be up bright and early for training making it impossible. But today she slept over her alarm making it easy for for you except the part you had to get out of her giant grip without her noticing which happened successfully.

After that you both got ready for your massage appointment that you booked knowing well she needed it having complained about random cramps that felt after heavy training or game days.

The next few hours had been filled with shopping and sneaky kisses, like helping salma look for some pants that she's been wanting to get. and some Xbox games she wanted to get so she and vicky could play with it when she comes over, getting sweet treats and some makeup and other products you both needed around your shared apartment.

that would be the your part of the divider date that you planned. now it was salma trun for the other half of the date.

"So where are we going that you got our suitcases packed with three different four different bikini placed on our bed". you asked her ?.

"You just gotta wait til we arrive there".she told you before leaving a kiss on your lips.

grabbing your hand leading you into the car before placing the location onto GPS so you know where too drive. Salma was passenger princess as she doesn't know how to drive and hasn't gotten her drivers license.this woman would rather run to her destination than drive which you found funny and would tease her about it.

You've almost arrived at the place the GPS was leading you into until you where able to see somewhat of a beachy report.

"You did not just book us to one of these beach resort did you". you asked her with a smile on your face

"I may have known that I'll days off would macht and decided to book here I know how the beach is one your favorite places and the offer was too good to miss". she told you

This would be one of salma best qualities that you loved about her when she does stuff for you without you knowing or asking.

Once you both managed to get everything done and head to the beach.salam had asked if you could help her take out her braids while you both chill out for the rest of the day which you obliged to do.

You both found a spot under the beautiful beach shades and decided to lay there and that when you started getting rid of her braids one by one which took time as you we're used to taking out yours and hers time to time. you'd finally finish taking out her braids and one thing you admire about salma was when her curly where out it made her look like some type of goddess especially with the hight and small waist she has.

you loved this woman down bad and would do anything for her.

this day had to be the best day ever enjoy half the day with the love of your life while finishing it off a the beach with a beautiful sunset.

And it couldn't have been done without a small makeout session with the sunset right behind you both.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Okay here's one. I really dont think I'm the asshole but my ex sure does.

AITA for refusing to buy my partner a jar of pickles?

So this story has like, a little background and some confounding factors i think but i really could go both ways on whether i was the asshole.

Ill start with both my ex (21nb) and i (23f) had severe mental health issues and were working on treatment when we were together. Theyd been in and out of inpatient stays throughout our three year relationship. Towards the Day of Pickles, i had my first inpatient stay where i got help i desperately needed to keep myself safe. This happened to be about a week after my 23rd birthday, but about two and a half weeks before their 21st birthday.

Anyway, at that time i had just gotten out of the hospital and started a new job at Joanns Fabrics (i outlived that retail fucker and im proud of it). I had been unemployed for the previous year and a half because of the pandemic and so the retail job was really my saving grace to have some sort of income to buy gas and groceries. My parents let me live rent free with them in their basement but i spent a LOT of time essentially squatting at my ex's dorm because my situation with my parents was not great.

Now my ex was also being financially abused by their mom so they had a monthly "allowance" of 200$ (of their own money they made at their on campus job) and no access to their bank statements. So i spent a lot of my own money on gas and groceries for both of us, and anything we wanted to do for fun, like visit the city. Without an income, this was SUPER stressful for me and i spiraled pretty hard with feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness. Supporting two people, even minimal living expenses, on an income of exactly 0$ is the WORST.

Anyway, i got out of the hospital and pretty much immediately went back to picking up as many shifts as i could at work because id been on staff for all of two weeks before hospitalization. Knowing retail, i was probably on the precipice of losing hours or being fired altogether.

My ex wanted me to take time off to celebrate their 21st birthday (they didnt celebrate my birthday that year) and travel to see their family and drink etc. I got scheduled for an inconvenient time. I would have to miss their birthday if i didnt find someone to cover. I managed to switch shifts with another coworker who was nice enough to let me have her morning shift, so i was able to at least travel separately and be a little late to dinner.

The night of their birthday my ex wanted to get drunk and so we went to the liquor store. Now im generally pretty picky about alcohol but if i get anything special i always get enough to share. Mysteriously, no one ever offers to share the expense or pay me back. So with all of 150$ in my account, i purchased enough alcohol for myself and the rest of the party, and a bottle of (cheap af) liquor for myself. I was broke af until my next paycheck and was pretty much planning on giving up meals and staying at home because the commute to work was shorter and meant less gas.

My ex picked out a jar of boozy pickles and asked if i would get it for them for their birthday. I should note that with all the stress i was under i had found a birthday present for them but hadnt actually placed the order (was waiting to get paid). I also didnt lie to them about this and had told them that i hadnt gotten their birthday present yet. They were upset by this and told me they felt like i didnt care about them, to which i snapped and raised my voice a little.

I gave them a bit of a reality check. I told them in no uncertain terms that i was under a lot of stress, from nearly killing myself to being flat broke with little to no help from my family other than a conditional roof over my head, ordering their birthday present wasnt super high on my list of things to do and that i knew what i was going to get them and that i intended to order it as soon as i had the money to do so. After years of the sole attention being focused on keeping them alive, i needed some support and acting like i didnt care completely ignored EVERYTHING i did to keep us both afloat.They cried and played the victim as they tended to do and i was too stressed to do anything but be angry.

So when they asked for the pickles i told them no. I have NOTHING left in my bank account, and anything that was in my account was already allocated for something else.

They told me i was being selfish for buying myself alcohol on THEIR birthday, not even getting them a present, yelling at them, and then refusing to buy the one thing they asked for, especially after i refused to take off work the day before to hang out with them and their family. In front of our friends.

I told them that i was purchasing the alcohol for the whole party, that the present had slipped my mind, and that they were accusing me of not caring about them when i snapped. Then i walked out.

My bff went outside to help me cool down and i told him what was going on and how stressed i was and he said that he agreed with me, it was childish to expect me to pay for everything with no help from anyone and then act like im unreasonable for having to put limits on what i can purchase.

My ex ended up getting so pissed by all of this they broke up with me two days later, saying that their birthday was the final straw for them after I'd been so codependent and relying on them too much to survive.

I think its all ridiculous given all of the stress factors i was dealing with at the time. I feel like we're all entitled to the occasional emotional outburst/bouts of forgetfulness when we're stressed. But my ex seems to think im a selfish asshole. We've been no contact for the last two years so this isnt like a pressing concern or anything but it does make me roll my eyes occasionally.

So tumblr, aita?

(Btw im also much more financially stable now that I'm fully and properly medicated and away from them.)

[stars-and-the-min]

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (10) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n the calm before the storm?

masterlist | last part | part 10 | next part (tba)

INSTAGRAM

mclaren Shanghai International Circuit

54,829 likes

mclaren Looks like a race day to me 🤔 tagged: oscarpiastri and landonorris

pi4str1 good luck papaya fam 🧡🧡🧡

michelle.ar manifesting double podiums again

jimpxcs Let's go boys 🔥

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 2h WELCOME BACK LINA F1 LIVE TWEETS ↳ piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 1h she's so real for these reactions honestly 😭

INSTAGRAM

lilymhe just posted to their story

TWITTER

🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 45m stfu i'd know that silhouette anywhere. lily muni he at shenzhen n3??? ↳ abby <3 @devilvows · 39m not just lily! alex, logan and oscar were also spotted in the venue!!

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 21m omg oscalina crumbs 🥹 ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 21m this is so sad, they've already hard launched, why do i still feel like i'm in a drought

INSTAGRAM

lilymhe

liked by selinabui and 143,284 other

lilymhe Been hanging out with some rockstars lately 🤟 tagged: alex_albon, cameliazzz, selinabui and oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri Today I learnt: I still suck at golf ↳ selinabui @ oscarpiastri dw babe, at least we suck together ❤️‍🩹 ↳ oscarpiastri @ selinabui 🥹

selinabui gonna stick to singing my silly songs that was such a humbling experience ↳ oscarpiastri @ selinabui You did better than Alex

pastry81 the mother convention ft some kens

alex_albon I personally don't recommend karaoke with a musician

linasgirl4 THANK U LILY MUNI HE FOR CONTRIBUTING TO THE OSCALINA PHOTOS WE APPRECIATE U GREATLY liked by creator

oscarpiastri

liked by selinabui and 201,395 others

oscarpiastri Some moments off-track

dan_pjd puppy !!!🥺 so we have roscoe hamilton, leo leclerc and this is...? ↳ marie_h.sb @dan_pjd apollo! lina adopted him a year ago

landonorris I thought that was lily but no, she's really serious about that golfing thing, ain't she?

celia.sucxr why does he keep posting her ↳ pastry81 @ celia.sucxr because that's his girlfriend???

TWITTER

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 4h too many people bitching and moaning about oscar posting about lina but u don't understand, if u were dating selina bui, u would also never stfu about her ↳ opal @pxastrixxx · 4h she's still mid lmao ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 3h until u have acclaimed music critics blaming ur success on pretty privilege, shut up :) ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 3h oomfie you ATE that and also unlocked a core memory

INSTAGRAM

emptybottles_official Shenzhen Bay Sports Center

liked by zhouguanyu24 and 362,486 others

emptybottles_official A beautiful Shenzhen homecoming for Lina and Jonny 💖 Thank you guys so much for three amazing nights of fun (and screaming with us) 🔜 Bangkok

lilymhe had an absolute blast! ↳ emptybottles_official @ lilymhe join us again soon?

zhouguanyu24 Did she sing THE song? ↳ selinabui @ zhouguanyu24 keeping dreaming man

piastri_lina shenzhen, how does it feel to WIN 😭

TWITTER

emme @flowersforcami · 1h and what do melb n1, tokyo n2 (replacement) and shenzhen n3 have in common? ↳ oscalina real ?! @emptyginbottles · 49m oscar piastri shows you will always be famous ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 28m no bc someone needs to get the stats on her energy when oscar is in the crowd like girlie is BEAMING

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee @urfavsgf @eiaaasamantha

[alittlebitofloveliness]

In defence of Steve Randle

Listen guys, Steve Randle gets a lot of hate in this fandom and as much as it pains me, it's valid. Everyone has their own interpretation of the source material, and fandom is supposed to be fun, so it is absolutely valid and ok to hate or love any character you want. You can hate Steve for many reasons or for no reason at all! This is fandom! That's ok! The story is for you interpret and love and play with and hate on to your hearts content. HOWEVER, to say that Steve Randle isn't an important character to the novel is simply not true, and to say that he hates Ponyboy requires ignoring or downplaying some pretty key moments of the book. This is especially true for those of you who love Dally but hate Steve, because Steve gets a lot of hate for being kind of a dickhead (which lbr, a lot of seventeen years old are, especially to their friend's little siblings) while Dally gets less for doing a lot worse (harassing Cherry, jumping kids, etc). This isn't to say that either character is better- they're both great, nuanced characters who have done bad things, but the fandoms attitudes towards them when they share a lot of characteristics is really telling. Even Ponyboy's narration about them is pretty similar- Pony doesn't particularly like Steve, and he was canonically scared of Dally, but they're both members of his gang and he doesn't hate either of them. You don't have to like Steve as a character, just like you don't have to like Dally or Darry or Tim Shepard or even Ponyboy, but he is important- and he doesn't hate Ponyboy, nor does Ponyboy hate him.

A really important moment in the book is when Ponyboy and Johnny defend Dally after he harasses Cherry and Marcia.

"Dally's okay," Johnny said defensively, and I nodded. You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more. It's a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber."

This line here is super important. Pony and Johnny were willing to defend Dally after he sexually harrassed Cherry and Marcia- soc girls who they clearly liked and were intimidated by- in the name of being a good friend, because that is what's important to them and their gang. If they're willing to do it in this context for Dally, you'd best believe they'd do the same for Steve, and him for them. Steve can and will rag on Ponyboy within the gang, but he'd never dream of bad mouthing him to anyone else. Dependability is important to the gang, and Steve would never publicly shit talk Pony, and vice verca. Regardless of their squabbles within the gang, at the end of the day they've got each others backs. They're buddies. We see evidence of this at the end of the book, when Pony grabs the bottle and threatens the socs with it.

"You really would have used that bottle, wouldn't you?" Two-Bit had been watching from the storedoorway. "Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn't need to. You'd have really cut them up, huh?"

The important thing here is that along with Two-bit, Steve was backing Ponyboy, no questions asked. Sure most of it boils down to Pony being a member of the gang and that deep rooted loyalty to one another, but the context for this scene is that Ponyboy was sitting on Steve's car waiting for Steve and Two to stop flirting with some girls. The three of them were hanging out- without Darry, without Sodapop. It's their school lunch break. We know Ponyboy has middle class friend's at school, or that he could've spent time in the school library. It was a deliberate choice to hang out with Two and Steve. He wasn't forced into it. Canonically, Steve and Ponyboy hang out. Never alone, but they're decent enough friends to hang out together in a group. Doesn't everyone have friends like that? I do. This isn't the only textual instance either where they hang out without the entire gang being present. Early on, Pony offhandedly mentions that sometimes Steve and Soda will buy him pop and teach him about cars if he hangs around the DX.

"I had walked down to the DX station to get a bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always buy me a couple of bottles and let me help work on the cars."

He could've just said Soda's name here but he didn't. Steve buys Pony pepsi and teaches him about cars, even though he gets annoyed with him when Soda invites him to hang around with them too often. And honestly, who wouldn't? I'd be annoyed if my best friend always invited her little brother along with us, even if I liked the kid. Wouldn't you?

Now, we do need to address the elephant in the room. I'm talking of course, about this quote;

"I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him."

I feel like very often people forget the context this quote comes from, and so it's magnitude is blown way out of proportion. Ponyboy has just been jumped and then immediately scolded by his brother who constantly makes him feel foolish and unwanted. He's already scared, embarassed, and defensive and then Steve goes and makes him feel even more unwanted. Of course he wants to lash out. Of COURSE he feels like he hates Steve in that moment. I did even reading it. But Ponyboy doesn't truly hate Steve. This moment is PEAK fourteen year old having a rough night energy, it's not truly representative of Steve as a character or of Ponyboy's feelings towards him. In truth, Steve actually kind of likes Ponyboy and is at very least protective over him. This is evidence by the previous quotes, but also when Ponyboy comes back from Windrixville, and is worried about the state placing him in foster care;

"'No, [Ponyboy said] 'they ain't goin' to put us in a boys' home.' 'Don't worry about it,' Steve said, cocksure that he and Sodapop could handle anything that came up. 'They don't do things like that to heroes.'"

It's subtle, and not immediately obvious to the traumatized fourteen year old who is used to Steve's cocky nature, but this is both a reassurance and a very bold claim. Not only is Steve trying to look out for Ponyboy the way the rest of the gang models- by treating him like a kid, letting the 'adults' worry about grown up issues in a misguided attempt to protect Pony- he is also throwing in his lot to make sure nothing does happen. Based on this quote and the rest of Steve's characterization throughout the book its not hard to infer that Steve would fight tooth and nail to make sure Ponyboy stays safe with his family. Sure, part of it is gang loyalty, part of it is his devotion to soda, but part of it is because he and Ponyboy are buddies in their own right, no matter how much they fight. They are friends- and Steve is an incredibly important character for many reasons, but particularly to add depth to Pony's character, to the bond between the Curtis gang, and to highlight how the Curtis gang differs from the other gangs in Tulsa. Steve is just as much an outsider as the rest of the gang, and it's disingenuous to say otherwise no matter how much you may hate him as a character.

[engie-ivy]

(Fic I didn't know I wanted to write! So thank you for the inspiration, @wolfstarmicrofic!)

28th: Dogwalker AU

673 words

Some good old mutual pining between a dogwalker and his client!

Date My Hooman?

“Has he been a good boy?” Sirius is sitting on his knees, scratching Padfoot’s ears (and making quite the sight while doing so).

Remus crosses his arms over his chest. “Now you're just fishing for compliments. You know damn well Padfoot’s always a good boy.”

Sirius grins up at him. “Guilty as charged.” He looks back at Padfoot who's thoroughly enjoying his ear scratches. “I know my dog is great, but I love hearing other people tell me that my dog is great also.”

“Right you are,” Remus chuckles. “How was your day at the office?”

“Dreadfully dull,” Sirius replies instantly. “Really, Remus, you made some good career choices that you now get to play with dogs all day.”

“Well, I don't get to live in a house like that.” Remus nods towards Sirius’ three-story mansion with the sprawling garden around it.

Sirius winks at him as he gets up to his feet. “Maybe if you play your cards right.”

Remus can feel his cheeks heating up.

Before, he was just amused by Sirius’ flirtatious banter, and he actually gave it as good as he got. But now, he suddenly feels flustered, at a loss for words, and wholly out of his depth whenever Sirius makes a comment like that.

After long conversations, with Sirius being the last stop on Remus’ afternoon route, and being subjected to Sirius’ sharp mind and disarming sense of humour, things have changed for Remus.

He used to think that the best part of his day would always be seeing the excitement on a dog’s face when he reaches out to unclip their leash to let them run around the park and play with their friends, but now, it's like nothing compares to seeing the excitement on Sirius’ face at the end of the day as he crouches down to greet his beloved dog after long hours the office. Remus’ days have started to revolve around the moments he brings Padfoot home, and it's becoming A Problem.

“And that's not even taking into account cold, rain, new regulations, demanding clients,” Remus continues, as if he didn't hear Sirius’ last comment.

Then Remus’ own dog, Moony, dashes forward and starts licking a tail-wagging Padfoot’s face, like he knows he has to say goodbye to his friend for now, and Remus’ heart just melts. “Oh, who am I kidding? It's bloody amazing.”

When the dogs have said their goodbyes, it's time for their owners to do so as well.

“See you tomorrow?” Sirius asks.

“Of course.”

“Great.” Sirius beams at him. “Looking forward to it.”

Remus’ heart skips a beat at those words. Yes, definitely A Problem.

Sirius has given Remus the key to the annex besides the main house, so he can pick up Padfoot, take him for a long walk, and then, by the time they return, Sirius will be back from the office and usually already waiting on them.

Sirius has actually turned the annex into a space especially for Padfoot, with water and food, several dog beds, toys, and a dog door, so he can go in and out to the yard whenever he wants. Sirius has even hung framed pictures on the walls of him and Padfoot together. A fuzzy feeling spreads across Remus’ chest upon seeing those pictures. A Problem indeed.

Padfoot immediately comes running, happily wagging his tail, brimming with excitement to go on his walk.

“Calm down, Pads,” Remus laughs, as the dog keeps circling his legs and jumping up and down. “Come on, I need to attach your leash, otherwise we can't go. Hey, what you've got there, buddy?” He spots a piece of paper neatly tucked underneath Padfoot’s collar and he plucks it out. As he unfolds it, he realizes it's a note.

And as he reads, a huge smile starts to spread across Remus’ face.

Dear Remus,

You might have noticed that my hooman has quite a crush on you.

Will you please save me from his desperate pining, and let my hooman take you out on a date?

[tremendum]

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Me and the Devil; i

(not my gif) .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·: Paul Atreides x fem!reader prelude next

word count: 5.3k

summary:  Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common. Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn. 

warnings: blood/violence, family deaath, v brief allusions to smut/dubcon, reader is traumatized. pls lmk if i missed anything. not edited.

notes: thanks for all the love so far!!! here's the first chapter of the story - if you want to stay updated, i post on AO3 first :) just a quick first chapter to lay the scene before we jump into the engaging parts of the story. feedback is very motivating and highly valued, thank u all <33

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Penitent Crimes of Retaliation

In accordance with the legal doctrine of the 'Reprisal Accord', as sanctioned by the High Court of the Landsraad, houses are granted the right to retaliate against proven offenses committed upon them. This action shall such be labelled as "Penitent Crimes of Retaliation". Under this mandate, should sufficient evidence be presented, the aggrieved house may initiate a retaliatory strike and engage in warfare against the offending party. While reparations for damages incurred during the conflict are mandated, perpetrators shall be exempt from criminal sentences, ensuring a balanced recourse within the framework of inter-house disputes."

- From the Reprisal Accord, Office of the Padishah Emperor. Imperium, 10041. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

There was once a time when green was your favorite color. 

You'd enjoyed a childhood of it; Peridot, Jades, the velvet green of winter dresses, the tall, mighty green the sacred Pine. The woven banner of your house, waving in the snow-whipped wind; A snarling green wolf upon the grey armor your parents wore to train you. 

When the men of one other Houses Major arrived to retrieve your older sister, she'd been shroud in that very same pine-colored satin, an elegant dress, as she waved good-bye to you for the last time. When the ice would melt off the lower glaciers for those three months every year, the lakes would thaw to a deep emerald green, and your brother, sisters and you would play in it; servants and soldiers alike yelling and pulling you out, shivering to your bones. 

Even at your sister's funeral. The green of the casket, laid to rest in the ground of a foreign planet by a man who'd never truly loved her. The women of your House, wearing a veil of mourning in that sacred pine satin as you said good-bye to her. Killed by the birth of her first; a son. Your parents had been proud - You became the oldest of your siblings that day.

You can barely stand to look at green anymore. No, instead, you mostly see black.

Black, white, and red. 

They'd sent you away to make for your house a Fortune; a son, they'd wished, for your sake - and, by whispers of your Lady Mother, a daughter - but this place... it crawls with shadows and monsters and deadly smiles; most in the form of your betrothed.

Your na-Baron. 

If Feyd-Rautha ever had a semblance of hesitancy, it was when you first met four years ago. You were at the end of your seventeenth year; he, freshly eighteen. He had been as cordial as you'd ever seen him, escorting you with an arm held out, eyes malicious but mouth less than offensive. He'd even called you Lady Bourbon those first few months on Giedi Prime. And, in fact, you can consider yourself lucky; perhaps for your bloodline, or for you yourself, Feyd-Rautha took special care of you. Maybe he did care for you -in the ways that he could. 

After that, he taught you all you needed to know about the rest of the world. In these final days together, he has admitted furiously that he waited too long to claim you as his wife - four years was much too long for you to wait, even if your purity was claimed by him long before then. 

The accusations had come from his uncle, the Baron; House Bourbon was stealing their precious refinery codes, committing treason against the trading accords along their exportation route. Perhaps, he thought, you were the one to plot it against your beloved future family.

But Feyd-Rautha knew better - knew that you'd never dare betray him. He was the one to demand a public execution of your family - but also the one to redirect your sentencing to a mere prisoner. As if you weren't one already. 

Don't look away. See what we do to scum, my pet? 

After all the sparring, each time you drew that precious blood from him, and you still haven't been able to kill him. If you'd had a blade, you would have, right there in the stands. 

You were, in some ways, relieved when their bodies had hit the sand fast; You'd never seen your brother's skin so reflective as you did this morning. The black sun couldn't hide the blood that had seeped from him, nor from your mother's throat. You'd swallowed thickly, wishing you could look away, gasp - cry; but you had to hide your pain. Your na-Baron would've loved it too much.

Why don't you leave me with them, then? You'd hissed through your teeth.

Though he was wild and psychotic, growling with hunger at the bloodsport in front of him, he heard you for what you'd said. Feyd's fingers pulled your hair hard; forcing your chin to stare up at him. A sickly glint in the black sun, his teeth shone with hunger. 

You'd have me throw you to your Wolves, and lose my prize? He'd tutted, kissing your forehead with a sickening sweetness; enough so that the servants had turned away their spider-black gazes. They didn't care much for the acts of affection you'd occasionally show one another - in a world marred by ugliness, any glimpse of beauty becomes a hauntingly grotesque show of power.

He'd snarled, slapping your cheek hard enough for you to groan. His breath hit your face, you're mine to keep - there's plenty of life left for you to serve.  

He'd held your eyes open as they'd slit your father's throat; then both of your sisters, and your brother's. Your mother had fought as much as she could in her drugged state - the Harkonnens are rutheless, and Feyd-Rautha had sat calmly behind you, your head in his hands, caressing your shaking cheek - but the neckline of her gown was too high, and too thickly inlaid with encrusted heirlooms. 

Bless their voided souls.

The emeralds that tore from her gown as she'd spilled her blood to the sand sent a ripple of pain out of your throat. Feyd had buried his face in your neck, teeth sharp as he sucked a mark just behind your ear, watching as you clenched your palms so hard, your own ruby blood beaded out, blackened in the sun's light.

If anybody would have bothered to look before burning the bodies, you know they'd find all the family diamonds sewn into the fabric of their clothing - centuries of your House, melted away.

Feyd-Rautha had drank up your agony with his lips, smiling as his hand wrapped around your throat. 

Now, alone and away from the thick industrial air, your chambers are cold and suffocating.

There are screams coming from the hall - not the kind that you've grown to associate with your na-Baron testing his new blades, but the kind that comes with danger. With change. 

As it turns out, you are not Feyd-Rautha's to keep any longer.

A loud noise outside of your quarters jolts you from your bed, whispering to yourself. They're coming for you. Pulling the sheets closer to your body, your hand finds the blade gifted to you on your nameday three years ago by your husband-to-be, still tainted with the ghost of your own blood.

Your whispers reverberate in the empty room. "I must not fear. fear is the mind-killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me."

Your voice shakes. Few things remain from your early days of training, before you were sent off to become a Harkonnen; This is one is a relic.

There is a loud noise just outside; blades. 

For a moment, you imagine there is a hand on your arm. It is strong, ghost-white, and possessive. His voice rumbles in your head. Don't look so sad, my pet. I will never let them keep what is mine. I will find you again. 

You almost wish he will. 

When you look down to the weight on your arm, you do not find the hand of your once-betrothed, but the remainder of his ownership, a handprint of a bruise that will not fade even as the soldiers in Atreides armor deliver you to the next planet.

You rise from your bed, preparing your sore body for a fight that will surely end before it even starts. You don't stop your old prayer, in fact, you hardly notice that you're saying it at all. Even as the doors give in. 

"-and when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing - only I will remain-" There are soldiers that burst through.

The way one of them fights strikes a faint memory from a lost childhood, and it fills you with rage. 

Why did you wait so long to rescue me?

You lunge, snarling like the wild beast you've become in your captivity. You will fight, because that is the only thing you know how to do. It is the only thing you have left. 

Your blade falls within minutes.

You're taken by the man from your past not a minute after. 

You're on a ship, watching the black Opiuchi B disappear, in an hour. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

"My Lady."

You don't realize the worker addresses you until you snap out of it, flushing behind your veil as you step out of the aircraft.

The dress you wear, salvaged from your family's old castle, is dusty. 

It clings to your skin, drowns you, as the rain falls. A staff of House Atreides holds an umbrella above you, shielding your elaborate dress from the water as you walk up towards where the members of the House await you. You stare down at the dress - green velvet. A texture you have not felt in years; your skin looks different not wrapped completely in black.

Your eyes strain to take in the grand entrance to the castle from the hangar which Duncan Idaho had escorted you, ignoring him as he turns to glance back at you momentarily. You can't bear the look of unfamiliarity that flickers over him when he looks at you, now.  

He looks the same - maybe less tall, but that has more to do with it having been six years since you last saw the man. You, however, are not the same girl you were when he knew you on Sabberon. Fear, panic, and wrath rage within you while your gaze smolders daggers at the back of his head. 

He walks just slightly in front of you and despite yourself, you slide just a bit closer - the only semblance of comfort you can allow yourself to feel as you take in the largess of the castle. The air is thicker here than you've ever felt; salty, windy, like you can taste the sea in the rain... it clings to your skin, but it feels clean. You'd been changing into your robes when you entered atmo - you've heard many things about the ocean, about Caladan. 

Something within you yearns to witness it yourself. Subtly, you crane your neck outwards to catch a glimpse; nothing in the near distance but the walls of the castle and high cliffs. 

You nearly trip as Duncan Idaho stops just a few paces from where the members stand at attention to greet you and your retinue.

Duke Leto Atreides, regal and composed, stands at the center of the room, his presence commanding your attention. Beside him, a woman wearing a deep cerulean gown - Lady Jessica. Easily, from behind your own veil, her gaze penetrates you; A cool sensation down your spine as you seem to feel her words in the back of your head as she watches the Reverend Mother who'd travelled with you per High Court orders.

 Hello, sister.

You purse your lips, looking on - there, next to his mother; Standing tall with an aura of quiet intensity, his eyes on you, is Paul Atreides.

The son to whom you're now destined.

Even from your obstructed vision, you can see that he's handsome - lithe, hair curled and combed back to show his eyes. They are wide, penetrating like his mother's, but Maker, they are so green. 

There is no hunger in his eyes, nor hatred, nor anything but a mild curiosity; it strikes a chord of fear in your gut, wishing briefly to return to the na-Baron's sight. It was easy to go unseen with the Harkonnens; They always made their intentions clear, and the na-Baron never wanted many to see you besides himself. You always knew what he wanted, and you could give it to him enough to control him. 

But Paul. His stare betrays no emotion but duty. If not for the boyish pout of his pink lips and his freshly-shaven jaw, you could have mistaken him for his father. A Duke. 

Your name, boomed from the voice of Leto Atreides, pulls you back to the surface of Caladan. "Welcome." Duke Leto's voice resonates through the hall with authority as he addresses you, his tone measured yet warm. Your stomach twists and turns as the man nods courteously to you. Coaxing your body to move, you bow to him.

"We are honored by your presence." His voice is surprisingly humane, exceedingly polite towards you; someone who was just come from the protection (a laughable phrase) of their sworn enemy. 

Your throat tightens at this. There is no honor to your presence, not anymore. 

Though you feel the prickling behind your eyes, you force your head to tilt in acknowledgment, schooling your expression to respectful - perhaps they can't quite make out your face, but Lady Jessica watches closely. She sees.

You take a sharp breath, swallowing away the lump of emotion in your throat. 

"Thank you, Duke Leto, my lord." Your voice carries steel beneath its polite, quiet veneer, though you try to calm your heart. You turn to Lady Jessica to greet her.

"My Lady, it is a pleasure." You say, equally even. Lady Jessica offers a tight smile, something akin to understanding swimming among her irises. It's been quite some time since you were permitted to talk to a woman; Your servants on Giedi Prime were, of course, tongue-less, as na-Baron wished. "Thank you for welcoming me to your home." 

"We understand that these are trying times for you." She says softly, her words a gesture of solidarity as your legs stagger. You feel dizzy and tired, but you force yourself to nod, bowing again. Your chained headdress overlaying your veil chimes slightly with the movement, swaying with the rain.

For such an acclaimed House, you're surprised by the gentleness of their welcome. Perhaps, they'd thought that the groaning and echoing hallways of Giedi Prime might break you, that they'd be taking in some injured little dove, wings clipped by the ferocious boy who'd gifted her with a knife plunged between her ribs on her nameday. 

The scar that lies just below your breast on your right side serves not as a reminder, but as fuel. It did not quell your spark. It ignited it, with a bloodthirsty rage for revenge.

Months of being thrown into a pit under the glaring black sun; Not the arena that assassinated your family, no - this pit was smaller, with one large seat for the na-Baron himself, and drugged concubines and servants with blades to service his na-Baroness. A place to watch his pets play. 

Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common. 

Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn. 

Lady Jessica is correct, these are trying times for you. You swallow as you straighten your back. Despite everything, there's a minor comfort in the Atreides' insistence of providing you with the necessities for you to perform your traditional customary mourning traditions. Your family may be gone, but you can still have this part of them; as a way of saying good-bye. It's what they would have wanted. 

You turn to the young man who stands next to Lady Jessica.

The Harkonnens had tried to show you the dangers of house Atreides; The poison of appearance, of trust. You are not foolish enough to have believed the Baron Vladimir and his webs of deception, but you are sharp enough to know that in times like these, nobody can be trusted. 

Your betrothed watches you, as if trying to see through your mourning veil. The green of his eyes sends a warmth through your stomach as you avert your eyes. "My Lord," you bow to him, your heart thumping in your chest, remembering how you might be rewarded for looking your formerly betrothed in the eyes during ceremony. Trying not to flinch, you wait to see what Paul's hands may do. But they do not strike you, nor grasp your jaw sharply. He barely moves. 

"My Lady." His voice is softer than you expected, and it strikes your heart with a cool unease. Distrust slithers around you like a daunting snake. He bows back to you. 

It's silent for a thick moment before Duncan Idaho - the man from a distant past - speaks from beside you. "We have much to discuss." 

Cutting to the chase, as always. Your eyes fall to the Duke, who nods. "Do you need to see treatment?" He asks the Swordsman, eyes assessing the soldier. 

Duncan laughs at this, gesturing to his arm, where beads of blood still slowly peeks through his the tunic he'd slipped on after changing out of his armor.

"Harkonnen blades are sharp. So are Lady Bourbon's nails."

The prickling of four pairs of eyes strike you as he continues, turning this time to address you full-on. "Your fighting is much different than I remember, Little Bourbon." 

What he doesn't say is clear to you: Much more savage than he remembers. Something between shame and pride licks at your cheeks and you avert your eyes; It had been a force of habit - rabid hounds don't tuck tail when cornered, do they?

You clench your hand, your nails digging into your palms; you learned early on that sharper claws could keep Feyd tame for longer. 

The force of Duncan's old nickname for you, when you'd been young - it nearly knocks the air out of your chest. It's been over half a decade since you'd seen the man; too much has happened since then. Nonetheless, you smile toothless behind the veil, trying not to think of the life you'd just left behind. Of what cold life lies ahead. 

When you respond, your voice is frigid. 

"Sometimes adaptation is survival, Duncan Idaho. Threats demand evolution." 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

The rain is gone by the next day.

In the morning room, forks scrape over blue-plated China. There must be a clock somewhere near, as the seconds pass in quiet, insistent ticks. A cleared throat, a swallow of water. 

Your eyes burn from exhaustion.

Your arrival last night held no such time for small talk - you were whisked away by the service staff to make sure your quarters were comfortable; Your old clothing and that of your sisters and mother - the few things the Atreides soldiers had salvaged from the ransacked Castle at Sabberon - had been washed thrice of rubble and smoke and were hanging, waiting for you, in the wardrobes. 

Barely awake, late in the evening, you'd attended a meeting in a small conference hall. There, sat across from Lord Paul, Masters of War and Swords and Strategy, a Mentat, and the Lady Jessica, the Duke had asked you questions, ensuring you were not harmed - more importantly, trying to ensure there was no malicious intent to your presence. Your eyes could not ignore the Lady Jessica, who stood behind the Duke, her fingers twitching to the others when you responded to a question asked of you. They had some kind of language, you'd realized, as they responded in their own subtle hand gestures. 

You'd only been there for ten minutes before you were escorted by a handmaid back to your chambers, where you sat without rest through the night. 

Truthfully, you're breaking fast with Lady Jessica and Lord Paul out of courtesy; You were up far before the sun had found the horizon this morning, staring emotionless at the ghost who stood in the corner of your new chambers.

You'd sat watching, cradling your chest with wide eyes, as the ghost slid onto his knees. How he'd crawled, smirking at the foot of your mattress, whispering to you with sharp teeth and beckoning fingers. The sweet promise in his eyes laid with blood and pain, coaxing you forward despite yourself - until something in the corner of your vision moved, and you'd screamed. 

That had woken one of the servants.

She came in with her head tilted down, holding a pitcher of water, and you'd asked her to stay.

Her name is Hestia; she must barely be twenty. You insisted on sharing a pot of tea with her, sitting in the silence but sipping shortly on your teacups. You didn't talk much, but instead breathed and felt the safety and of a woman's company, even if she is a few years younger than you. 

It wasn't until she'd brought you breakfast a few minutes later that you realized the staff must have been informed of your courting customs before your arrival - she said nothing as you ate silently, staring out towards the coast of rocky cliffs and rolling moors you could just barely make out from your chamber windows. 

And now you sit similarly - in the morning dining room, your hands perched in your lap, unsure what to do with yourself.

Your future husband, no older than yourself, sits across the table from you now, pushing his omelet around on his fork. The table shakes just slightly, jilting your glass full of water - he must have a restless knee. He chews at his lip, avoiding your stare, sharing slight conversation with his Lady mother. Her attempts to bring you into the conversation are met with polite answers and more silence, your voice shaky and cold. 

After a while, a woman enters, whispers something to the Lady at the end of the table. Nodding, Lady Jessica takes her leave with a pointed look at Paul, suggesting he might escort you around the castle to settle you in.

Though your stomach coils, you nod, "-if you have time, my Lord, I'd appreciate it."

His eyes find yours from behind the veil and you clear your throat. He's quiet but chivalrous; A nod, a glance sent back to his mother as she leaves. A short gust of air through the room and suddenly you can smell him. His hair, clean and glossy - healthy - glints as he faces a window, exposing the early morning sun to his bright eyes.

It's silent for a few moments as only the two of you remain; Your food untouched and his half-eaten. 

"Are you one of them?" 

Them?

You stare at him from behind the thin pine veil that covers you. It occurs to you that Paul may assume you are just as bald and sick as each Harkonnen; years of adapting, surviving off of instinct and placation, are over. With a jolt, you realize you are not a Harkonnen. And you will not be wed to one.

You shake your head, thankful for the lack of chains upon the crown of your head today, ignoring the melancholy feeling in your gut. 

"I have hair." You state simply, looking down at the skin of your arm; The skin that boasts arm hair, none of the sickly pale skin that knew of no clean air nor healthy sunlight - your skin, glowing with real melanin like the House of Bourbon.

You'd never spoken this freely on Giedi Prime besides in the sole company of Feyd-Rautha - stars, you'd never have spoken this freely at home on Sabberon, either - but there is no home anymore. And if you've learned one thing in your years since coming of age, its that the Great and Noble Houses of the Landsraad are crawling with perjurers, fabricators. 

Paul is likely the same. 

If the Atreides boy must be wed to you, you cannot help that, just as you couldn't help with Feyd-Rautha. They can dress you, insist in your traditional customs - but you will not go down easy. No matter how cold the home, you can be colder. You are more than the bones which hold you up; Meaner than the demons that kept you in their ghostly-grip for four years. 

His cheeks flush a peculiar pink, bottom lip captured between pearly teeth. "No," he starts again, eyes searching - trying to find you, beneath the layers of green that wrap around you. "Not Harkonnen-" he quiets after he says the name, as if worried to offend you. "I meant-" his eyes swim, "Bene Gesserit." 

Your stomach chills as you meet his eyes. 

After some hesitation, you shake your head. "No, my Lord."

When he blinks at your words, you feel compelled to continue. "I suppose I was..." you move your hand to pull on the sleeve of your robes.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

"or, I was supposed to be." your unemotional tone rings through the room. Paul doesn't say anything to that, biting back the suspicion that climbs up his throat.

He stands when you rise from your seat; Your mourning dress, unlike anything he'd ever seen before, flows like the leaves of a weeping willow as you push your chair in behind you. When he offers a stiff arm to escort you out of the room, you hesitate before looping yourself loosely to him. 

She is telling the truth. 

His mother had indicated, with flicks of her hand, during the meeting the evening before; you, sat before the Atreides' council, unaware that his mother was reading your honesty. 

But that could be a trick; you've admitted to being partially trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit, perhaps you found a way to deceive his mother. As much as he trusts Duncan and his father, he can't shake the suspicion that you're a mere pawn in the Harkonnens' game.

But his father's words burn sharply into his mind. 

Duty often requires us to navigate paths we may not have chosen for ourselves, Paul. You may not always like her, but you will treat her with the respect and care befitting of a future spouse. Love may come in other ways - but you will marry her, and together you will sire an heir when the time comes.

By decree, it was ordered you be wed to Paul, but he can't find it within himself to lose the feeling of distrust. He has spent hours learning about the Harkonnens - how they think, their strategy; and yet, from Duncan's account, the Baron and his nephew just let you go. It makes no sense to him. 

"I was supposed to be a lot of things." 

Your voice is undeniably beautiful; strong, much more resolute than he'd expected. But you are extremely cold, and evidently unwilling. Polite, yes - it seems you've been trained just as he and every other young noble of the Great Houses have - but you are calculating, aggressive.

He saw the claw marks you'd left upon Duncan; a man you've known since you were a young girl.

You walk with your chest out, back straight like a soldier; your words are cordial yet laced with steel and indifference - it only serves to deepen his unease. He guides you through the castle, murmuring quietly as he shows you along, introducing you to various members of staff who stop and bow in recognition. 

You don't say much until he escorts you to a path that winds down out of your sights; Below the castle, between jagged rocks, Paul finds himself concerned to no longer be surrounded by castle walls. Beside him, you take a deep breath, your footsteps faltering as you slow to stare at moss that sprawls across the cobblestone. 

Curiously, Paul slows to a stop beside you.

For a moment, you stare down at the dirt and fallen tree limbs, the grassy fields and rocks. Soon, as though an invisible string pulls you upwards, you snap your head, voice sheepish behind your veil. "Apologies, my Lord." You start to turn away. "I've read of plants like this, but never seen them before in person." 

Paul is suddenly struck by the realization that you may not have seen much of any flora nor fauna on Caladan. He knows what Giedi Prime is like; and your homeworld, from what he'd read last night before bed, was mostly full of Glaciers, forests, and high altitudes. Perhaps you are interested in such things; the idea surprises him. 

So instead of moving along, he finds himself bending to pull off a bit of the moss from a fallen trunk. The earthy dirt spreads between his nimble fingers, the green bright against his skin. You watch him silently.

"It absorbs up to twenty times its dry weight in water." He says it quietly, repeating what he'd learned in an ecological lesson, pushing on the spongy material with his thumb. "Banks of it grow just around the brackish tidepools outside the castle." 

Your interest, piqued, causes your head to crane slightly from your short height - he can tell, even without seeing any part of your face, that you are fascinated. "Am I allowed to see?" You ask stiffly, your arms by your sides.

An initial wave of protectiveness over his home washes over him; remembering his father's words, he forces his shoulders to relax. He lets the moss fall back to the stump, brows furrowing. 

"You are to be Lady Atreides, one day." He tries to school his voice evenly, avoiding any hint of resistance to this fact. "You do not have to ask permission to see your own land." 

The wind from the sea whips around you; his stray curls fly in his vision. There are no words from you for several very long breaths, in which you clear your throat. 

"I do not feel well, my Lord." You say moments later, voice cordial but thick with the desire to be alone, "I believe I am sick from travel. Please, if you would excuse me." 

He is unsure if he had made you uncomfortable or if you are truly feeling sick; nonetheless, Paul escorts you to your chambers silently, calling one of the handmaids - Hestia, her name is - to check on you. He insists she bring you some bread and cheese, to draw you a bath if you please. 

His jaw clenches; he's to train with his mother soon, but he needs release. His muscles clench in repressed frustration and so Paul lets his feet carry him swiftly to the training quarters.

His fingers itch for a blade; his mind itches to forget about the last day, about the cold life that lies ahead of him. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·: