#I read too deep into it and it flung me out the window

[stoopakoopa]

Day 8 - Reunion

Drew out a little snippet from @donze-trash's fic for @mesdelostrescaballeros2024!!

Part of a larger continuity being uploaded on ao3! Read it below ⬇️

Donald pulled up outside the apartment where Panchito was staying and took a deep, fortifying breath. Of course he was excited to see his friend again! Of course he was excited for The Three Caballeros to be once more reunited, even if only for a day. There was just that one catch—he felt bad even calling it a catch, like it was somehow a bad thing that he and Zé had finally professed their love for one another—but it would always be awkward telling Panchito. Surely, the duck thought with an internal groan, things would unavoidably change within the trio.

To make it all worse, José had been away on flight shifts when Panchito arrived in town, and Donald had agreed to only break the news when his new boyfriend had returned. He was a terrible liar about this kind of thing: his tongue got all tied up and his beak chattered when he spoke. How in the hell was he supposed to—?

The Donald Duck Pity Party was cut short as sharp, energetic chatter caught his ear from the street: Panchito was being seen off and heading straight for the car. Donald flung himself toward the back seat, toward the gift José had planned to hand over today, and hastily threw a spare blanket over it. The thick, scratchy wool did a decent job of concealing the obvious shape of a brand new guitar, at least if you didn't pay it mind. They'd give it to him when they were all together. That's how they were supposed to do things. Together.

Panchito appeared, waving goodbye to someone before bounding out of the apartment complex. His face lit up when he saw Donald, and before Donald could even get a word out, Panchito had leapt into the front seat, pulling him into a bear hug. His wide sombrero wobbled dangerously, but he didn't seem to care.

"¡Ay caramba, amigo! What took you so long to get here?" Panchito exclaimed, yanking Donald into his arms despite protest from his seatbelt, all to kiss Donald's cheek with his usual enthusiasm.

"'Ey, Pancho! How you doin' amigo?" The duck choked out, finding it a little easier to act natural amid the strangulation.

Panchito released Donald to pinch his cheek playfully. "Better with you here! I've been working on that new song I told you about last night! What about you? What have you been up to all day?"

"I'm doin' swell! And nothing much! Been taking 'er easy today." He lied, and not well—he was already talking too much. "Excited, though! Not every day I get to hang out with my two best pals!" Donald pulled away from Panchito's hold in order to return his attention to driving, feeling too awkward to linger in the warm hold, however much he usually would.

The charro clicked the seatbelt into place and leaned back in his seat, apparently unfazed by the duck's haste. "Ay güey, I'm just hyped that we are finally getting together again for a change. So, what are we doing this time? Are we gonna hit up the club so hard we get kicked out again? Or maybe reopen the Magical Mythical Monster Petting Zoo from Scrooge's secret vault? Or how about we raid the Anvilania embassy and get the ambassador drunk again? You know she still calls me." 

Donald nodded, absolutely not absorbing anything the rooster was clucking about in favor of focusing on the road. He was happy, of course; his friend's exuberance was infectious to say the least. It had indeed been too long since they got to hang out like this as a group… but a part of him still felt tense. He chanced another glance at the vaquero—oblivious, humming merrily, a long leg resting against the door as he propped up his foot on his knee and took up what little space his seat offered. He wished he could feel so carefree.

When they arrived at the little airport, Panchito's excitement was hard to miss. Before the car could even finish pulling up to the 15-minute zone, he'd unbuckled and bolted out of the car window, running ahead towards the tarmac and calling out for Zé at the top of his lungs.

"Yeah, don't wait up or nothing!" Donald called after him with a roll of his eyes. Crazy bird, he hadn't even put the car into park yet!  The lighthearted atmosphere Panchito had cultivated was at war with the impulse to complain bubbling inside him because he wanted see Zé first, to get a chance to hold his boyfriend first before they had to act respectably platonic in front of their none the wiser companion. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, just…

One hug, one second to let the weight of the week melt off was all he wanted. But that wasn't happening. Not yet. Instead, he'd have to wait and keep playing the part.

"Great," he muttered, jerking on the car's parking brake. "Just act natural. Simple."

The airport, while always abuzz with people from all walks of life and from every corner of the globe, was relatively less hectic on a weekday like this, and José was all the more grateful for it. Deplaning the small jet from Panama was fairly routine and done quickly, leaving Zé with a little free time before he met up with his friends. He brought with him his single suitcase, loaded with more clothes than his usual amount, plus some souvenirs from Brazil and the several other countries he had stopped in during the work week. There were things for the kids back at the manor, plus a homemade gaúcho style poncho pala made by his vovó for Della (whom the old bird had assumed was still freezing from her time on the Moon).  Strapped to the outside of the suitcase (because it could not fit) and wrapped in cloth was José's gift to Donald, a new hammock for his houseboat. He hoped he would like it.

Walking to the exit, Zé attempted to steal himself for the reunion to come. Not so much for seeing Donald, though his blood ran quick with excitement for him to be sure. But Panchito, whom he had not seen since they met for that ill-fated holiday to Bahia that never came to fruition. They had kept in constant contact even after their break up, though it caused pain on both sides. They had been determined to preserve their eternal friendship even in the face of romantic disappointment. And though it took some years for Zé to be able to look the rooster in the face without the unbearable ache in his chest urging him to take it all back and try again, he never wanted to lose sight of what drew him and the other two Caballeros together in the first place. They were his family, no matter what happened.

Even when I act like a stupid teenager and run crying to my ex-boyfriend about my hopeless crush, which turned out to be not so hopeless after all because we're together now and— Merda!

Zé closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. It was very good that he had this spare moment to compose himself as he entered the airport proper.

The distant sound of a familiar crow cut through the din of the crowd, stopping Zé in his tracks. That voice—there was no mistaking it. And like the call to sunrise, it made his heart want to leap into the sky. Spotting a tall flash of red, and a hat that he insisted was too big for his head, standing tall amongst the crowd, Zé dropped his suitcase and his umbrella and ran forward like his tail was on fire. Before he even had time to think about it, he was launching himself into Panchito's arms. The rooster caught him instantly, just like old times.

"¡¡AAAAAAJAJAJAJAJA!!" Panchito's triumphant grito echoed across the terminal. His grip was tight, almost desperate, and his wide grin spoke volumes. Zé could feel the emotion radiating from him—Panchito had missed him more than words could ever say, that much was clear. His whole body seemed to hum with excitement. 

"José!! Mi cielo!" Panchito crowed, his voice overflowing with affection as he slowly, reluctantly, released the green parrot. 

Zé smiled warmly, returning the sentiment. "It is so good to see you, docinho!" His tone was as light and affectionate as ever. "It has been too long!"

"No manches, pendejo, it's only been a few months!" Panchito guffawed, his eyes sparkling with unfiltered happiness. His grin stretched wide as he shook his head in disbelief, the warmth in his expression unmistakable. The man was an open book, his emotions always worn on his sleeve.

The malandro chuckled softly, adjusting his hat. "Well, yes, but it has been twice as long since the three of us have been—" He stopped, scanning the area. "Espere, onde está o Donald?" 

Panchito's expression shifted briefly—a flicker of realization, maybe impatience. He glanced back toward the car, where Zé knew Donald must still be catching up. The vaquero's elation had clearly driven him to rush ahead, leaving their other friend behind. Zé could almost feel the mixture of emotions brewing under Panchito's playful exterior, a familiar tug of longing buried in the joy of reunion.

But Zé knew better than to bring that up. He simply smiled again, his voice calm, teasing. "Always in a rush, eh  mano?" 

"Life is too short to sit still," the rooster replied assuredly, and his hand which still rested on his waist in a half hug pulled him in for just an instant, a punctuation to the point. 

"Hey, ya found 'im! Over here, guys!!!!" a distinctive voice cut through the busy hum of the arrival hall and Zé immediately turned towards the sound, his heart immediately catapulting into the stratosphere.

"DONAL'!" he and Panchito shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the platform. The moment the malandro caught sight of Donald looking flustered and determined as ever as he weaved through the crowd, all the excitement, the nerves, the longing came rushing back to him. He broke from Panchito's hold to sprint to him with ever increasing urgency, his heart pounding not from exertion but from sheer jubilation.

Quickly he closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around the sailor and pulling him into a tight embrace. He fit into his arms perfectly, and for a moment he didn't want to let go. Donald absorbed the impact with ease and let Zé down safely, the rest of the world seeming to melt away in an instant. Zé quickly buried his face into Donald's shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his lover's arms around him. There was relief, adoration, and an overwhelming sense of peace. Even for just a fleeting moment, everything felt right—like he was where he belonged.

"Meu querido..." Zé whispered softly, just for Donald, though he didn't linger on the words. He knew this interlude was fleeting.

Sure enough, as if sensing their private moment was up, Donald's voice broke through their quiet intimacy. "Panchito...?" Donald called, one arm still wrapped around Zé as he extended the other towards their rambunctious rooster to include him.

Zé was too distracted with cuddling up to his sailor's side to register the gleam in Panchito's eye, at first. As it was, it was only the loud, triumphant yell that signaled their impending doom, and the parrot felt he had little choice but to make sure he didn't endure it alone, his arm holding his duck in place.

"No, wait—!" Donald started, but it was too late.

Panchito came down hard from where he had launched himself into the air like a luchador delivering his finishing move. Elbow extended, he crashed into the two of them with the energy of a firecracker bursting on impact. Donald let out a choked WAK! of surprise, his arms flailing as he was knocked clean off balance. Zé, caught in the middle of it all, simply accepted his fate with a laugh, not even trying to brace for the collision.

They tumbled down in a heap of feathers, beaks, and limbs, Zé wedged between his two best friends, both of them piled on top of Donald, who lay sprawled at the bottom. He could feel Donald wheezing beneath him, dazed from the sudden assault, while Panchito—of course—was perched victoriously at the top of the pile, leaning on one elbow like he owned the world.

"Órale! ¿Que te pasa? You were supposed to catch me!" Panchito chortled, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he flashed a wide, playful grin down at the both of them. "I could have gotten hurt!" 

"God forbid…" Donald rasped weakly.

Zé couldn't help but chuckle, even as he lay squashed in the middle. Completely unconcerned by the chaos, he wiggled into a more comfortable position between them, his head resting against Donald's back. He could feel the frantic beat of his partner's heart beneath his cheek, could hear the shallow breaths as Donald tried to recover. There was no tension, no frustration. Just pure, unbridled affection. Even in moments like this—especially in moments like this—Zé felt nothing but love for the both of them.

This was how it had always been with the three of them. Chaos and laughter, roughhousing and tenderness, all tangled together in one messy, beautiful friendship.

"Well, caras," Zé sighed contentedly, "it is good to be back where I belong."

"Where, with all of ya on top of me?" the sailor beneath him groaned, barely able to get out a full breath with all the pressure bearing down on him.

Don't tempt me, the malandro thought before immediately shelving it for later.

[mymediacollection]

Hell Dogs: In the House of Bamboo (Netflix, 2022)

My god...he is so attractive.

[littlefreya]

Neptune's Snare

Summary: She came to take revenge on the loathsome man who murdered her fiance, only to become his captive.

Read Chapter One

Pairing: AU!Pirate August Walker x Virgin OFC (for now 😏)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Sexual themes, dark themes mentioned, historical inaccuracies, kidnapping, captivity, graphic descriptions of sex, intimidation, slow burn, sexual tension, foul language.

A/N: I was unsure whether I should do part 2, but @deandoesthingstome (💖) motivated me to do it, so I truely hope you will like it. Many thanks to @agniavateira, for beta'ing. I am no longer using my old tag list, but I will tag those who specifically asked to be tagged for this story via my new Writing Update Blog @littlefreyaslibrary.

Thanks for reading, and please reblog with a comment 🖤

Chapter Two

Hours had passed since the Captain left—hours of futile attempts to escape the cruelty of the heavy iron binds. By now, the ship was deep into the ocean, miles away from any harbour or piece of land. The notion that she’d been abducted by the most ruthless murderer known to authorities had only just begun to sink. 

As hot tears stung at her cheeks, Lizette couldn’t help but chuckle at the stupidity that led her to this fate.

‘Did you really think that a foolish girl could succeed where great men had failed?’ 

If Lizette had dared be honest, she would admit she never thought that plan through, not that it mattered much anymore. Soon enough, she would be yet another shiny trinket in Blackbeard’s gaudy collection.

Exhausted from a fierce yet futile battle, she leaned her head back against the plush, gold-paneled wall. Her weary gaze drifted through the open window, where the dark skies and black seas merged into a desolate void. No light shone through tonight; the darkness has devoured the stars and the moon. Lizette felt as if she was drowning in it too, sinking into a thick, tar-like liquid. With each breath, the collar around her throat grew heavier, the iron pressing into her skin and dragging her deeper and deeper until everything faded to black.

When she blinked again, it was still night but the cabin was lit in deep shades of honey and amber. Her heart skipped—once for the iron still hanging from her neck and twice as her bleary eyes caught sight of a shadow by the edge of the big table.  

It appeared that her host had returned. 

Boots flung across the food-abundant table, the Captain sat back in his royal velvet chair. One hand cradled a silver chalice whilst the other toyed with the edge of his thick whiskers. Silver trays of food, wine, and books were splayed before him, surrounded by dozens of fat, wax-dripping candles. The flickering flame guttered upon his eyes, painting them bright red while he observed the girl intently. 

The curiosity was mutual, at least to some extent. As loathsome as the pirate was, Lizette could not help but scrutinise. Never in her life did she see a man so crude and yet so regal at the same time, He looked like a washed-out king, holding himself to a higher status amongst the scum aboard his ship. Surrounding himself with fine art, books and scientific obscurities, one would assume that this low-life man was educated, or at least aspired to be. His appearance, too, was of some sort of false elegance,  with his moustache carefully groomed and his hair neatly combed save for an errant curl that fell upon his tanned forehead. However, the white cotton shirt that hung partially unbuttoned and loose from his shoulders exposed him for what he truly was as it revealed a myriad of tattoos, scars, and coarse hair. 

‘Nothing but a filthy scoundrel.’

“At last, sleeping beauty is awake.” 

Lizette kept her tongue knotted. The blazes on her stare answered on her behalf. 

August scoffed at the silent response. ‘Precious little thing,’ Had only she known how much he enjoyed obstinate women. The only thing that was better than bending a spitfire to his will was getting a nun to kneel before his cock.

A slight twitch tugged at his cheek; his smirk widening at the fond memory.  

‘Ah, Mary… you sure pray hard.’

Letting go of his whiskers and the chalice in his grasp, the Captain reached for a loaf of bread and split it in half. Steam rose and coiled to the air.  The scrumptious scent of the freshly baked goods quickly filled the room and wafted over Lizette in a tempting invitation. Absentminded, she suckled her bottom lip, almost able to taste the sweetness on her tongue. 

The pirate held out one piece of the loaf, an unmistakably provoking grin lighting his face. “Would you dine with me, pet?”

Weakness unfurled through her, reminding Lizette that it must have been hours, if not an entire day, since she last ate. Her empty belly flipped and gurgled so loudly that the pirate could hear it even from where he sat. Joy immediately cascaded about his glance; the impish grin between his cheeks further stretched. 

To his delightful surprise, the girl was a lot more stubborn than she appeared. Instead of begging, she offered a spiteful glare and turned her face away. 

“I’d rather starve!” 

“Suit yourself.” The Captain shrugged and bit on one of the pieces. Hums and moans sputtered from his mouth, all exaggerated to taunt his brazen prisoner. As he finished chewing, he sucked on each of his inked fingers. 

“Got a name, pet?”

“What matter is that to you?” The girl spat.

August shrugged again and returned to the chalice, dragging it on the table's surface in circular motions. A deep-red whirlpool briefly formed in his drink. He stared at it indifferently as he retorted, “Matters not, pet. But since you’ll be spending some time here in my quarters, I will require a moniker to approach you by. Question is, would you rather I choose a name for you myself? It won’t be a nice one. I can promise you that.” 

Keeping her eyes averted, the girl folded her knees and hugged them, a deep sigh sinking from her. She couldn’t even bring herself to imagine the horrendous name he would choose.

“My name is Lizette.” 

A touch of dark delight kissed his face—as if he had heard the enchanting hymn of a siren. Thoughtful, he stopped stirring his drink to the sound of her name, licked his lips, lifted the chalice and pressed it to his lips. “Ah, yes, you are definitely a Lizzy.” 

“It’s Lizette!” she vehemently corrected.  

“Oh!” The pirate abruptly twirled his free hand in the air, his brows lifting in a sardonically submissive gesture. “Forgiveness! Mercy, milady!” That had earned him the attention he was hoping to receive, as finally, Lizette snapped to glare at him. 

The pure ire on her face did nothing but feed his amusement. 

With a slanted grin and his thumb brushing his whiskers, he eyed her back. It’s been a while since a girl piqued his fascination, and this one was indeed something else. Fear seeped from her like dewy nectar from a ripe fruit. The sheen of sweat clinging to her skin and the throbbing at the crook of her neck gave away her true emotions. Yet, she exuded the unyielding fury of a harpy, the shackles around her throat barely deterring her brazen spirit.. 

‘Bold little thing. As ferocious as the ship’s cat…’ August thought and then frowned, ‘Where is that ungodly creature, anyway? Haven’t seen it in a while.’ 

“Lady Lizette…” the correct moniker rolled smoothly on his tongue in an inherently sinister sweetness. “Are you always such a rude guest to your hosts?”

“Guest?!” Lizette seized the chain that held her collar to the wall and lifted it in front of him—a deep frown decorating her weary face.  

“I am not a guest! I am a prisoner!”

“Ah! Ah!” The pirate lifted his inked index finger in an unbearably pretentious manner. "It was you who came aboard my ship willingly, and let us not forget—uninvited.” 

Lizette felt a chill in her chest, the same chill she always sensed when getting an answer wrong in her Latin lessons. He was right, and there was more to it. Pirate or not, doesn't every man deserve respect in his own home? 

That notion made her cheeks hot. 

“And if I may…“ the pirate drawled huskily and shifted into his seat. Lizette’s eyes followed his movement with the wariness of a skittish cat. Initially bemused, she realised his hand had snaked below the table and was now fumbling with his waistband. 

A deep, pulsating pang bloomed in her core as the primordial anxiety every maiden is doomed to suffer from awoke within her. Alarmed, she shook her head and blurted hoarsely, “Wait!” 

The pirate paid her no mind; either he didn’t hear or didn’t care. Then, his hand sprang back sharply with a pistol in his grip—the same one he had confiscated from her merely a few hours before. 

“Did you not attempt to murder me in my own home?” 

With those words, he slammed the pistol on the table, the dull thud booming through the cabin wall and causing Lizette to jump with a start.

Sinking back to his red regal chair, August crossed his fingers together and pressed his lips together with the contempt of an authority figure. The many golden trinkets around his fingers chimed as they collided. 

“Answer me, Pet.” 

Lizette regarded the pistol carefully. The golden floral embellishments upon the handle sparked with the candle's light.  For a fleeting moment, she wondered how fast she needed to be to grab the pistol and shoot him dead in his rotten heart. Instead, she simply nodded, much as she could with the heavy collar around her neck. The spots where the sharp edges grazed her flesh burnt as sweat dripped over the bruised skin.

“Dumb as your plan was, I do appreciate the gesture, las. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to murder me, but it’s definitely the first time it was a beautiful young lady. Was all of this because of a boy?” He challenged, crooking one eyebrow. 

This time, Lizette did not hesitate to answer. 

“You robbed me of my future!” She corrected, and though she tried to maintain a fierce demeanour, the quiver in her voice gave away the rageful grief. 

Sympathy, sadly, was not in August’s books, especially not whilst being distracted by the way her breasts pressed against the confines of the corset with every fervorous breath. A small, almost inaudible groan left his lips. He wondered if she, indeed, was a virgin. Did he deny her of her wedding night? Were these lovely tits ever in the hands of a man before? 

Surely, he would find out. One way or another. 

With a glare still fixed on her cleavage, he grazed his dimpled chin and simply shrugged. 

“Pirate.” 

Lizette hissed in response. Defiant, she snapped her arms across her chest to hide her cleavage. 

‘Pig.’

“So I robbed you of your future,” August continued, mimicking quotation marks with his long, inked fingers. “And thus, you thought you should rob me of mine?” 

“And what future would that be? Murdering and whoring?” she muttered hatefully.  

The pirate swatted a hand over his chest, giving her a fake, exaggerated pout. “Now that pains me, love.” 

Lizette could sense the blood seeth beneath her skin. She was used to men belittling her, but never did she experience such sheer mockery and humiliation. Trembling, she yelled back, “Good! I wish you nothing but pain!”

“And so she continues to insult me in my own home.” August clicked his tongue and shook his head with sardonic disappointment. “You highborn ladies sure lack respect. ‘Funny thing is, no matter how uppity women like you act, they all want the same thing…” his voice slurred and deepened, coaxing a baffled look from the maiden who abruptly forgot her wrath and ate the bait. 

“And what would that be?” 

The pirate stood and calmly paced to the fore of the table, where he leaned against the edge to peer down at his prisoner. Lizette remained guarded. he was fairly far away yet close enough for his shadow to fall upon her face and for his manhood to be situated at the level of her mouth. She struggled to avoid staring at it directly, which only made that wretched smug smile light his face again.

“What you ladies truly want is to be violated by none other but us ‘lowlife scoundrels’,” August nibbled his bottom lip, a dry chuckle escaping him as more fond memories came to mind. “Truly, the lots of you are bored by the castrated virility of the poised gentlemen. All you fantasise about is to be fucked dirty like a whore by a brute who has no sense of propriety.” 

The pirate held his fist before him and mimicked a slow pumping motion. Although Lizette did not quite understand it, his words alone were enough to leave her gravely unsettled. 

“You are an animal,” she snarled, not realising that her nails were biting into her forearms as she clutched herself so protectively. 

But that merely fueled him.    

“Tell me, Pet, did your boy satisfy those dark desires before he left a delicious bonny lass like yourself all alone? Did he split open and plundered your sweet little cunt, ass, and mouth, or did he leave you wet and miserable?”

Heat crawled at Lizette’s cheeks, yet she wasn’t sure whether it was from outrage or shame. Never in her life had she even considered the possibilities he had suggested, and now those horrifying images poisoned her mind.  

Amused by her obvious mortification, the pirate tilted his head impishly. “No? Not even a finger or a tongue?”

“Stop it!” She implored, her voice cracking.

Ignoring her plea, he clicked his tongue. “Aw, sweet, tender flower. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He left you all alone and uncharted—that lonesome seal, begging to be invaded. Well, milady, you didn’t have to threaten me with a pistol in that case. All you had to do was ask.” 

The pirate reached for his bulge and squeezed it, much to Lizette’s dismay.

”Trust me, one night with me, and you’d forget you ever loved him.”

That was enough to send Lizette over the edge. Not thinking twice, she jerked to her feet, the chains around her rattling along a furious onslaught that sputtered from her mouth. 

“Love?! What do you know about love? You are a monster! All you do is kill and rape! You are incapable of love, and I’d be damned if anyone could ever love you!” 

All the candles in the cabin flickered with a sudden gust of wind as the pirate suddenly lunged forward. He moved so fast, too fast. Lizette hadn’t even had the chance to sway from his touch, and already he was upon her. Crude fingers dug deep into the hollows of her cheek, forcing her to face his terrorising stare. 

“You think this is a game? You think you know anything about me, little girl? About what I’ve done!?” 

It was not a question to be answered, and even so, Lizette couldn’t bring herself to speak; she was suffocating, drowning on the surface. All around her, the air stood dense with the scent of iron, wine, and musky sweat, whilst the weight of his body crushed as it clung to her. 

Closer, deeper. Layers upon layers of silk and wool separated their skin from one another, and still, she sensed the curve and firmness of his robust figure. The woven map of muscles that adorned his torso and the flex each muscle made as he tensed were evident 

But none of this came close to what she saw as he forced her to look into his eyesa wrathful maelstrom pregnant with sinister urges beyond her darkest fears. It felt as if it was trying to draw her into a deep sense of anger, and grief submerged her.

Dread began to spill into her veins. He was going to kill her.

Lizette sucked in a deep shuddering breath. She was not going to join her Edward. Not tonight.

“Let go of me!” She squealed and began to punch his shoulders repeatedly. It felt like hitting iron, every blow more painful than the other, yet she refused to stop. 

Indeed, she was just like that sea monster of a cat.

Stoic as an icy sea breeze, the pirate tilted his head at the girl. Despite her desperate efforts, her battle did nothing but vex him. Quirking one eyebrow, he released his grip from her jaw and swiftly reached for her hands. Lizette did her best to evade, squirming erratically, but to no avail. With a swift single hand, he seized her wrists and pinned them above her head with a booming thud.

The girl gasped out with surrender, strands of her hair blowing back and forth upon her face as she heaved and panted exhaustingly. With his hand around her wrists and his body slightly bent to meet her height, he stood  closer to her than any other man had before. So close that she could taste the wine and sea salt on his breath and study every freckle and every scar that marked his skin. He was nothing like her Edward, she thought; he was coarse and terrifying, and despite it all, she found him tragically beautiful. 

She hated him for that. 

“Listen to me now and listen carefully,” he finally spoke, tightening his grip around her wrists.

Liaette lifted her chin disdainfully; it took every ounce of self-restraint not to spit at his murderous, smug face. 

“You’ve mistook my hospitality and playfulness for kindness, but let’s get this straight; I am not a good man. Upset me, and I will pluck that little flower between your thighs without blinking and then throw you to my crew once I have my fill.” 

His words brought a stark shiver down her spine, yet it wasn’t just fear this time but something far more primordial. Between her trembling thighs, she sensed dewy wetness. A desperate gnawing need she had never known before. Trying to ease and brush it off, she squirmed and ground her thighs. 

August’s brow rose with realisation, an immediate knowing grin spilling upon his malicious face. He leaned closer, his lips and whiskers brushing against her ear as he spoke. 

“Seems like there won’t be much resistance from you, isn’t that so, pet? Soon, you’ll beg me to fuck y…”

His words were cut as warm saliva splattered on his cheek. 

He shut his eyes momentarily, releasing a deep, exasperated grunt and then moved an inch away to fish a silk handkerchief from his pocket. Lizette watched proudly as he wiped his face. 

The pirate, however, was not amused. Throwing away the handkerchief, he offered her a deadly frown. And then he leaned in, his mouth drawing voraciously closer to hers as if meaning to devour her.

“I warned you…”

“Captain.”

A low, sonorous call followed from the door, drawing both August and Lizette to turn their heads toward the uninvited guest. 

Lizette blinked twice. The man in question was almost the spitting image of August, though his hair was wild with earthy curls and his beard fully grown, pointy, and tended with wax. Indifferent to the scene before him, he drew a pipe from his pockets and lit it with the flame of a candle that stood on a shelf near the door.  

August regarded him with slight respect, yet not without annoyance:." What is it? I am busy.”

“I can see that,” the other pirate puffed out, grey lines of smoke following through his nostrils, “you are needed at the brig.”

“About?”

“Flint might finally speak.”

Eyes ablaze with sudden intrigue, August straightened to his fall height and drew a step back from the girl yet kept his grip around her wrists. 

“I assume your methods worked, brother?” He crooked one eyebrow at the other pirate curiously. 

‘Brother, of course,’ Lizette nearly chuckled. The men must have been twins, although she could tell the other sibling had far more grey in his untamed mane. 

“My methods always work.” He answered with dry arrogance. “Finish her off later. This is more important.”

August lingered, his fingers brushing over his moustache as he contemplated what to do with his sweet little prisoner. The possibilities were endless, yet the more interesting ones would take some time, and with the trouble she gave him, he definitely wanted to give her what she deserved. 

A deep, exasperated sigh left his lips. “A moment, Gus,” he requested, finally unhanding the girl. 

The man, now known as Gus, bowed his head and threw Lizette a quick glance before disappearing into the darkness behind the door.

“It seems like I have some business to attend to, love. Shall we continue our little fun later?” August teased, slight annoyance still lingering at the tone of his voice.

Lizette did not answer. Rubbing her aching wrists, she watched him cautiously while he searched within his pockets.  She wondered what new cruel method of torment he would inflict to her now. 

To her surprise, it was a small silver key.

He lifted it to her face and offered her a razor-sharp  stare." The water is close to freezing; sharks and eels are swimming within them, and every man upon my deck is probably plotting to use you as fuckhole since the moment you stepped onboard. I trust you won’t try anything stupid in my absence.”

“Like what?” Despite her physical and mental exhaustion, she dared to speak back, “Seduce one of your crew members to fornicate with me so he would betray and murder you?” 

Her weariness must have brought out the worst in her because she would have never thought of such an inappropriate, vile thing. Then she realised it was  him who, in less than a few hours, corrupted her soul. 

August paused and contemplated for a moment as if this was an actual possibility he did not consider. However, he brushed it off with a burst of taunting laughter while proceeding to unlock the collar around her neck. “I wouldn’t  recommend it, love. They all come with so many exotic afflictions on their cock s that no doctor has even heard of.” 

As the iron was removed from her little neck, the girl rested her hands around it, massaging the cuts and bruises that formed beneath. It ached even worse as the chill air of the night pecked at the raw flesh. 

The pirate waltzed toward the table, reclaiming the pistol in an obviously provoking manner. He sheathed it back at the front of his waistband and paced toward the door. 

“I won’t be long, love,” he promised, and with that, he left and locked the door behind him.

Lizette listened carefully to the sound of his footsteps, counting them one by one until she could no longer hear him. And then, she began to search around the cabin for anything, anything that can be used as a weapon. 

‘I will not be a pirate’s whore.’  She vowed to herself while absentmindedly grazing a palm over her cheeks where August had touched her. 

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Under a Star-Flecked Sky

Author's Note: This was supposed to be some Rhysand x Reader fluff, but the depression brain-rot got the better of me and I wrote some angsty, post-UtM Rhys moments instead (don't worry there is some fluff at the end). My baby just needs a hug, and honestly I think SJM did him dirty by brushing his trauma Under the Mountain under the rug.

Warnings: Mentions of Amarantha, Rhys' Post-UtM Trauma

Summary: You're Rhys' mate, having already been with him before the Mountain, and are navigating Rhys' healing journey as best you can.

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

The bed was cold; the realization jarring you from the deep clutches of sleep. Your bed was never cold, not when your mate was in it. Rhysand ran warm, your own personal heater, usually spending the night curled around you, cocooned inside the safety of his wings, but those great wings and the male attached to them were nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed empty, the sheets rumpled, blanket haphazardly clinging to the side of the mattress like he'd flung it off in a hurry, even though you hadn't heard him get up.

You sat up, shivering in the chill coming through the open windows, the satin curtains billowing in the autumn breeze. It would be too cold to leave them open soon, a fact you knew often put your mate on edge, especially after...

You called for him down the bond you shared with your mate, worried. It had been a couple months since Rhys had returned home to Velaris after Amarantha; the nightmares had been constant the first couple of weeks, at one point they had gotten so bad he'd started spending the night at the Moonstone Palace, claiming he had work to do to avoid you and the rest of the Inner Circle from seeing him like that, but with some help from Madja and some other healers in the city he'd been able to get a handle on it. Usually. Some nights were worse than others. You'd tried to be as supportive as possible, even going down to the Library to read up on ways to help. There were calming teas you'd started making for him before bed, the recipe tucked in one of those old books, but you suspected Rhys drank it just to make you feel like you were helping, the cup still half full on the bedside table. You'd drifted off shortly after handing it to him last night.

When there was no answer down the bond, you crawled out of the bed, dragging the blanket with you. The black silk slip you wore did nothing to stave off the cold, you'd worn the birthday gift from Rhys down to its threads over the years he was gone. He'd offered to buy you a new one--multiple in more colors--but you'd refused. It was your favorite, you'd find some magic to keep it held together if you had to. Still, it was the wrong time of the year for it, and you opted to stay warm under the blanket instead of pausing to change into something else as you left the room in search of your mate, still calling for him down the bond.

He gave no answer, his end silent. As silent as it had been for the last 50 years, that great, formidable wall of adamant shielding him from you.

You bit your lip as you checked each room in the house, all empty, save for the one Cassian was snoring in at the end of the Hall. They'd started taking turns sleeping over, keeping an eye on their brother. Azriel had stayed the night before, Mor the night before that. They stole your wine and played old board games until the early hours of the morning, trying to get Rhys' to laugh, or smile at the least. He didn't do a lot of that these days.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. He'd been through so much and half the time he'd just shut down and shut you out, unable to explain what had happened. What she had done to him. Most nights you wondered if there was a way to let you into Hell, just so you could kill her a second time. You'd had a long time to think about what you'd do if you ever had the chance to get your hands on her. Not that it mattered in the end, you'd never been able to get into the Mountain. You'd failed him then and it was starting to feel like you were failing him again now as you all but sprinted through the house.

It took longer than you would like to admit to notice that the balcony doors in the living room were open. Rhys left the windows open, never the doors, even if Velaris was the safest place in Prythian, he'd never leave you vulnerable like that, not unless he was nearby.

Tears pricked your eyes, your lower lip bleeding from how hard you'd been biting down on it as you stepped out into the frigid night air. The lounge chairs and tables along the edge were all empty, no glass of Rhys' favorite whiskey in sight.

Your heart thundered in your ears, thoughts racing. Where the hell was he? Had something happened? Was he in danger?

You were about to start calling his name in desperation before a shifting tile on the roof caught your attention. One of the pieces had been knocked loose--a new occurrence because you'd had to replace them after a drunk Cassian had tried to do a back flip off it last week.

Clutching the blanket around your shoulders with one hand, you used the other to pull a chair over to where the corner of the roof hung over the balcony, and carefully climbed up. The townhouse roof was not as steep as the Palace roof, or even the cabin in Illyria, where you and your mate used to sit and talk about all his plans for his city and his people.

That ache in your chest returned tenfold as you spotted your mate, sitting at the highest point of the roof, knees to his chest, wings wrapped around himself to fight against the cold. His head was tucked against his knees, ebony hair covering his eyes. This was not his spot to stargaze. This was not like all those times you'd sat together, whispering your dreams to the stars, so hopeful and eager for the future. This was not the ambitious and hopeful High Lord who had swept you into the glittering world of the Night Court and mapped out a future among the stars with you all those years ago. You had gone to the cabin in Illyria only once while he was away, and the loss of him, the bond so quite and empty and cold in the place you had formed it had been so devastating you'd almost ripped the place apart one wood plank at a time. At the time you had been so sure you had lost him forever that you'd nearly ripped everything you had built together apart in your grief. You had left all those dreams you shared in those woods and vowed that you would never whisper any prayers to the stars ever again. Not if their heir was gone and their reflection in his violet eyes would never look your way again. You had stopped dreaming in his absence. Nights like this you wondered if he had too. Perhaps the Mountain had taken more from both of you then you dared to admit, even to each other. What good were dreams if the stars no longer listened, if they would no longer answer you?

It was an easy climb to him compared to all the other roofs you had climbed to sit with him in the past, even with the blanket still clutched around your shoulders.

Rhys didn't look up. You weren't even sure he'd heard you. Still, you lowered yourself to sit next to him, the worry swirling in the pit of your stomach only beginning to settle as you took in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. This was the part where you said something witty, threw the blanket around him and chastised him for leaving you alone, but maybe those were games for the people you were before. The last time he hadn't heard you coming, too caught up in his own head to hear you, he'd flinched so hard his powers had knocked a bookshelf over, panic flooding the bond. He accidentally showed you a flash of red hair and pointed nails, scratching at his back before he'd ripped the memory away and locked himself in the bathroom. You'd been trying to find ways to avoid doing it ever again.

It was a long, tense few minutes before Rhys lifted his head off his knees just enough to look at you. "Did I wake you?" His voice was raw, like he'd been screaming.

You wanted to touch him, to hold him in your arms and stroke his hair and make it all better, as his touch had always done for you, but everything was so different. Sometimes you were sure he let you hold his hands because he knew you wanted to, not because he wanted to.

It had been a long couple months, you'd been weighing and measuring every word, trying not to startle him, trying not to make him feel any guilt or shame. He had saved you, and your family, had given everything he'd had to ensure that she didn't taint any bit of your home, you owed him a solid front, a shoulder to lean on. You had not spoken of how scared you had been, how cold and empty and wretched you had felt for every moment of the last fifty years. You'd crafted a nice mask for the court to see, holding steady in his absence, not taking it off, even after his return in hopes that it would ease his burden. But the words came tumbling out of you, the tidal wave of emotions bubbling up and bursting out in a rush, "You scared me."

He sat up a little straighter, pain flashing across his star flecked eyes.

"The bond was quite," tears pricked your eyes. "Cold. You wouldn't answer me. You'd shut me out." It was that last bit more than anything. You could handle the nightmares. You could handle this new version of your mate, because truth be told there had been times you weren't sure he was ever coming back, whatever shape he was in was irrelevant in the long run as long as he was alive. All the newness, the unease and uncertainty, the new quite version of him was easy to handle. But the quiet, knowing he'd shut you out again...

"I know that you need time, and space, and I'm trying to give that to you, Rhys, but..."

He unfurled his wings enough to wrap one around you, an arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered against your temple, planting gentle, feather light kisses against your skin as you buried your face in he crook of his neck.

He was here. He was safe. This was real. All things you often had to remind yourself of.

"Please don't shut me out like that," you whispered, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. "Not again. I can bear a lot, Rhys, but not any more of that."

His wings came back around to cover both of you as he stroked a hand through your hair. Still, aside from a few more whispered apologies, he didn't speak, didn't attempt to explain himself. You tried to tell yourself it was fine, he didn't have to explain, he'd earned the right to keep whatever he needed to to himself, if he wanted to tell you he would. But he still had not lowered his shields, did not project anything down the bond. A part of you wanted to scream, grab onto that tether that linked your souls together and shake it like you could somehow force life back into it. Maybe things would be better if you could. Maybe they'd be worse. You tried to tell yourself this was enough.

"There are things," he said finally, his voice pained like he was having trouble putting it together, no sign of that silver tongue of his. "Things I can't... can't talk about."

You laid your hand over his heart, feeling the uneven beat. It was rare for Rhys to be so obviously anxious.

"Things I won't talk about."

"It's not healthy-"

"No," he growled, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you from pulling back to look him in the eyes. By the uneasiness of his breathing you thought he might be crying himself. "You do not need to know. You will hear enough of my sins from everyone else."

Sins, as if he had done any of it willingly, as if he'd had any choice in it.

"You didn't have a choice," you began.

"It doesn't matter," Rhys countered. "That is not the story they will tell."

He would be the villain, the little lackey that did her dirty work, the monster that ripped people's minds apart for his evil queen. You'd heard the story in the High Lord's meetings over and over again--and worse, especially from Beron and Tamlin. "I don't believe anyone else's stories. I don't care what they think you've done, or why you'd done it. I don't care, Rhys, because it's not true."

He buried his head in the top of you hair, a shuttering breath ripping out his chest.

You shot as much understanding and love down the bond as you could, hoping some of it would eventually break through that wall between you. "I love you, I'll always love you, Rhys, nothing will change that."

His wings tightened around you, soft moonlight shining through the soft membrane, highlighting centuries worth of nicks and battle scars. You longed to run your fingers over them, familiarize yourself once again with the patterns and feelings you had forgotten in the last fifty years.

"But how are we supposed to move forward if we don't talk to each other?" You whispered. "I miss you. I miss talking to you. You're my best friend, my mate, we promised to always be honest and open with each other."

You twisted to be able to look at him, pulling away just enough to catch the glimmer of tears in his eyes. You reached out gently to wipe one off his cheek and he shuttered at the contact.

"It doesn't have to be tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I know that you need time, and I am not asking you to give me details you don't want to, but there's gotta be some way for us to talk to each other again, isn't there?"

He tilted his head to kiss your fingertips. "I'm sorry, I know I've hurt you," he murmured against your fingertips, his lips soft and warm against your chilled skin. "I'm trying." He moved his lips to your palm, placing featherlight kisses on the way down, his offering of another apology, as if to tell you he was sorry you had to be there to wipe away any tears. He'd been like that before, but not this bad.

"I know," you said, "but in the mean time, can I at least have a thought for a thought?"

He hummed against your palm. "You first."

"I'm thinking we really should have put in more comfortable roof tiles," you said, twisting against the tile that was biting into the underside of your thighs.

He shifted and pulled you to sit in his lap with a huff of what was almost a laugh. The shift in conversation was good, kept you both from spiraling further into all the uncertainty the future still held. If you couldn't talk about the past, at least there were things in the present to talk about.

"And I'm thinking," you added as you settled against his strong chest, his heartbeat a bit more steady against you now. "That you make a very comfortable seat."

"That's two."

"First one was free," you say, resting your head against his shoulder.

He was quiet for a long moment, just the two of you wrapped in each other under the stars.

"I'm thinking..." his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands finding yours so you could intertwine them. "That I clearly need to get you some new socks, your feet are freezing!"

He was clad in nothing but his underwear, you only now realized, and you had instinctively wrapped your legs around his, seeking any kind of warmth you could find. There wasn't a full sleep set between the two of you.

You couldn't help but laugh, even if this wasn't how you'd hoped the conversation would go, at least it was a conversation. "You know I hate sleeping with socks on, that's not fair."

"Slippers than," he conceded.

You intentionally brushed your cold feet up the side of his leg. "Fuzzy ones. And only if they're bright pink."

"Ridiculous," he huffed, "but if you insist."

"I want them to look like cats too."

"Pink cats?"

"Pink cats."

"Pink cats it is then."

You grinned at that. "We can go to the Rainbow tomorrow for them?"

"First thing in the morning," he promised as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

"We should go for breakfast. There's a new bakery on the Sidra. Well, new as in neither of us have been there, it's technically been open for awhile."

"You didn't go?"

You two had met in a bakery in Illyria, had fought over the last chocolate croissant until the shop owner had kicked both you out for scarring the other customers, it had become something of a weekly tradition to find which shop in Velaris had the best ones since. "I was waiting for you."

The arms around your middle squeezed a little tighter.

"I have a list of things for us to do, actually. A lot changed and I thought if, maybe I kept making a list it gave the Mother a reason to bring you back to me." It felt stupid, now that you'd said it aloud that you had hoped depriving yourself of a chocolate croissant would somehow force the Mother to bring your mate home, but you had been desperate, you weren't always thinking clearly.

Rhys nuzzled into the side of your neck. "Thank you, for waiting." You knew him well enough to know he wasn't talking about the bakery or the croissants.

"I would have waited a thousand years for you," you whispered.

"That's a long time without chocolate croissants," he teased.

"They're worth the wait," you replied, hoping he knew you well enough to know you weren't talking about croissants either.

He merely hummed understandingly as he settled against your shoulder, his breathing evening out against your back. You relished in the rise and fall of his chest, of his warm breath against your throat. He was alive, he was here, he'd made it home.

"What else is on this list of yours?"

"There's a new dinner cruise around the Sidra, an art exhibit in the Rainbow, three new plays," you counted them off on your fingers, trying to remember all of them now. Sleep was beginning to beckon again, your eyes heavy, speech slowing. "The Night Orchestra is coming back into town, you missed them twice. There's a new ice cream shop to try..." there was something else, but your mind was growing hazy. A yawn escaped you.

Rhys tried to stand, but you grabbed frantically at his wrists. "I'm ok. Wanna stay here with you."

He settled back against the roof, laying back now with you tucked into his side. The blanket had gotten twisted between the two of you, doing little to keep out the bite of the roof tiles. You didn't care.

"Oh! There's a new place that sells some lacy things I think you'd like," you mumbled as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in deep.

"For you or me?" He teased.

"For you to rip off of me," you said.

He kissed your temple, "We'll definitely have to stop there then."

You were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, really you were, but they were growing heavier and heavier, the stars over head blurring in your vision. Maybe you had been wrong to stop wishing on them, despite all your pain, your mate had still returned to you, that dream had still been answered.

"We're gonna be ok, you know," You murmured into his neck.

"You think so?" He whispered.

"I'll wish it onto every star I see until it's answered," you vowed.

Rhys gripped you a little tighter, you gripped him back, eyes drifting shut fully now.

"Maybe I'll start making wishes again too," he said in your ear. You hoped, as you drifted off, that the stars heard him and would answer this wish too.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Idk if you were serious or not but I would love a Gagamaru fic where a shy/skittish reader wakes up from a nightmare & calls Gagamaru for comfort but our feral boy is on the move & just comes over instead & spends the night spooning y/n

── NIGHTMARE

Synopsis: Gagamaru has an unorthodox method of comforting you when you call him after a nightmare, but it works well enough that you can’t complain.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Gagamau x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.4k

Content Warnings: nightmares, scaredy-cat reader, gagamaru is a lil weird but he’s got his heart in the right place so we love him

A/N: anon i NEVER joke about writing for obscure characters HAHA i will literally take any chance to do so hehe 🤩 i hope this is close to what you wanted anon!! i’ve literally never written gagamaru before so hopefully he’s not toooo ooc

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

For a moment, you couldn’t be sure why you were awake or where you were. All you knew was that your heart was racing and your palms were clammy and your blanket was stifling, so stifling, but when you went to cast it away a voice in the back of your mind screamed don’t!

You gasped when you remembered. There was a person in your room, standing at the foot of your bed, a shadowy figure with a malevolent aura that was smiling at you sinisterly, waiting for you to notice them so that they could — so that they could — you squeezed your eyes shut and burrowed yourself back under the covers, hugging your knees to your chest and doing your best not to move or breathe or think or anything.

As your thoughts slowed, you blinked, realizing that you had just woken up from a nightmare, and there was a high chance that the person wasn’t real. Creeping back out of the sheets, you took a deep breath and then, all at once, flung them aside and raced to the light switch, flicking it on and holding your hands out in front of you defensively.

There was nothing. Your room was undisturbed, but your heart was still pounding, and you could not bring yourself to go back to sleep, not when the dream had been so vivid. Leaving the lights on, you returned to your bed, sitting on the edge with your legs crossed, turning on your phone and wincing when you saw the time.

Gagamaru’s voice sounded the same when he picked up your call, though it was rough and slightly distorted, no doubt a symptom of the cell service wherever he was. It was thick with sleep, as well, and belatedly you remembered how careful he always was to get a proper amount of sleep.

“Hello, Y/N?” he said.

“Gagamaru,” you sniffed, glancing at the depths of your closet, which were dark and endless and almost certainly contained something or another of the frightening sort. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said. “Did something happen?”

“No,” you said. “Yes. I can’t sleep.”

“This is why you shouldn’t be on your phone so late. Screens are bad for your eyes,” he said.

“It’s not that,” you said. “I had a nightmare.”

“Ah,” he said. “Like, you saw something scary in your sleep?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Okay,” he said, and then, abruptly, the call ended. You frowned, and for a moment you were too bewildered to be frightened, but then the emptiness of the house became too overwhelming, the silence without his voice all but deafening. There was a noise from downstairs, creaking and ominous, and though you knew it was most likely just the groan of the house settling or the whine of the fridge, it made you whimper and dive back into the safety of your blankets, leaving the lights on as you stared up at the ceiling.

A few moments later, there was a knock on your window. You waited, hoping beyond hope that it was a figment of your overactive imagination, but right after that was a second knock. You squealed, scrambling backwards, your blankets pulled up to your face, your back pressed against the headboard, only your eyes peeping out so you could stare at the window.

“Y/N, it’s me!” The shout was muffled, but it was undoubtedly Gagamaru, and although you really shouldn’t have been surprised, you were still somehow confused as you crossed your room to open the window for him. 

“Gagamaru?” you said. He was hanging on your windowsill with an uncanny dexterity, and when he saw you, his face split into a wide grin. You stumbled backwards as he swung into your room, shutting the window behind him. 

“You told me you had a nightmare, so I came to see you,” he said. “Was that wrong?”

You and Gagamaru had been going to school together for a while now, but while the others had shunned him for his wild strangeness, you had found it to be entirely appealing. There was a sort of kindness in his inability to sugarcoat anything, and his bluntness contrasted so harshly with your skittish demeanor that it circled around into compatibility. The two of you had been friends almost since you had met, although recently, your relationship with him had grown beyond mere friendship into something more — something that wasn’t quite definable but definitely crossed the line into a closeness that you had never felt with another person before.

“It wasn’t wrong, just unexpected,” you said, already more at ease now that he was there. His mere presence, imposing like a beast, felt like enough to ward anyone off if he didn’t want them there. “Especially that you got here so fast.”

“I know how you are,” he said, flopping onto your bed. “I didn’t want you to be scared for even a moment longer than you had to be. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep if I’m here?”

“Maybe,” you said. “Let me turn off the lights and try.”

You fumbled your way back to the bed in the darkness, lying beside him, your back to his broad chest as you tried to close your eyes. He tossed a casual arm over your waist, exhaling softly, and though you did feel marginally better, you still couldn’t quite bring yourself to sleep.

“Not working?” he said.

“You could tell?” you said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Your breathing isn’t even enough for you to be asleep. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was horrible,” you said, swallowing, moving so that you could hold onto his hand. “There was a man waiting to kill me. It wasn’t for any reason — he just thought it was funny. He was waiting for me to wake up and realize that I was about to die, and then he was going to do it.”

“Hm,” he murmured sleepily.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you said, a tear dripping from your eyes and splashing onto your pillow. “It’s dumb to be this scared over a dream, isn’t it?”

“You’re not stupid,” he said. “That’s scary. If I had that dream, I’d probably be scared when I woke up, too.”

“I bet you wouldn’t stay this scared for so long,” you said.

“Nah,” he said. “But that’s not a bad thing. I can’t be scared because I’ve gotta look out for you. You know I won’t ever let anything hurt you, right?”

“Even that stupid dream?” you said. “What if it’s real?”

“I’ll beat him up,” Gagamaru mumbled into your hair, adjusting his grip on you so that he could run his fingers along your sides. “I’ve fought a bear before….do you think some guy is going to be anything?”

“I remember that,” you said, laughing softly. He had come into school that day with bandages on his ears and a bruise on his cheek and an effortless attitude, as if it was just another day for him, as if ordinary people also went around wrestling with bears. “You’re crazy.”

“It’s not that hard to do,” he said. “Can you sleep now?”

He used his free hand to cover your eyes, giving you no choice but to close them. You exhaled and found that it would not be so difficult at all.

“I think I can,” you said. “You’ll stay, right? If something happens, you’ll be here?”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, of course I will be. Why would I tell you I’d look out for you and then leave?”

It wasn’t like you were any less frightened, but having Gagamaru by your side was a boost of confidence, enough of one that you could finally be comfortable with drifting off. Maybe it was true that someone might come and try to hurt you. Maybe you’d slip into another nightmare — but this time, when you woke up, it would be with him, and you didn’t think it would be so horrible if he was there.

“I guess you wouldn’t,” you said.

“I wouldn’t,” he affirmed, sounding barely-awake at this point. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you said. “Thank you for coming all of this way.”

“Of course,” he said. “I always will. If you need me, I’ll be there, and that’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said with a yawn. “I really will.”

“You do that,” he said, wrapping himself around you tighter. It was then, and only then, that you could finally settle into sleep — one thankfully free of anything but happier scenes, some of them even reminiscent of the first days that you had met Gagamaru.

[heythrrdelilah]

timmy Timmy Timmy Timmy! Everithing about this lovable man

This man actually owns me. He’s #1 on my list and will forever be. So please request more Timmy y’all 🤣 I haven’t written smut in forever so please be mindful of that when reading.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, oral manipulations, sex

Pairings: Timothée Chalamet x F!Reader

Neighbors

The sound of bustling New York traffic filled your small studio apartment as you lay in your bed. You had a particularly rough day at work and you were wanting nothing more than to lay in your dark apartment, binge watch Love Island while you mindlessly scroll on your phone. Your air conditioning in your apartment went out a week ago so the window behind your bed had been open in an attempt of temporarily relieving some of the heat. The busy New York streets have become your sleep ambiance.

In the middle of the re-coupling of the episode you were watching, your finger stumbled upon your dating app folder in your phone. You were scrolling on Instagram before, but something in the Love Island air had you wanting to use Hinge like it was a phone game. You were never looking for anything serious, or anything in general. You never messaged your matches back. It was more like you had the apps for the option.

Scrolling to pass the time, you stopped on one profile that seemed a bit too familiar. The man had curly dark hair that fell over his face. In most of his pictures, his phone covered the majority of his chiseled features but showed his green eyes. It wasn’t until you looked at the name that it struck you where you knew him from. He lived next door to you, well across the hall. He was attractive, tall and lean. You’d never spoken before, just saw each other in passing, he probably hadn’t ever actually seen you before if you really thought about it. You still felt like you couldn’t swipe on him. The likely hood of you matching would probably be impossible, but in the off chance you did match, you lived right across from each other. You’d have to see him every day. If you matched and ignored it like all of your other matches, there would still be the lingering of the known fact you at least find him attractive.

In the deep thought, the show got good and you lay your phone down for a moment, allowing yourself to give your brain a break to dive into the drama of the show. When you looked back down at your phone you saw a giant ‘MATCHED’ across your phone screen. You must have accidentally swiped while putting your phone down. Your heart paused for a second and your eyes widened. The next notification across the screen was a message. He had already messaged you.

Timothée: hey neighbor.

That was it? What were you supposed to respond to that? You tossed your phone to the side and continued to watch the show again until your phone buzzed again.

Timothée: is your AC out too?

Is that why he matched with you? To see if your apartment was in the same condition as his? You could only find out one way.

You: yeah. I talked to the super last week but he just said he would get to it when he gets to it. Glad to know im not the only one.

An hour had passed and no response, so you assumed that had been exactly what he wanted, to ask about your AC. You were on your third episode into the binge when your phone buzzed again.

Timothée: I have a window unit but I have some extra fans. I’ll come bring you one if you need one. This summer is hot as fuck

You rolled your eyes as if it was habit. You’d be crazy to accept. Because he just wanted to know about your ac, but you obviously found him attractive and he knew it because you matched with him. His was information based, yours was attraction based, how embarrassing.

You didn’t respond. You turned your alarm for the morning on, just in case you fell asleep and continued watching your show.

Until a knock came at your apartment door. You huffed out a sigh and flung your legs off the side of the bed. The oversized shirt covering your shorts but you didn’t care. It was one in the morning and whoever it was, didn’t need to be knocking anyways. You opened the door and saw the curly haired man standing in a white t-shirt, black shorts, sneakers, holding a white oscillating fan.

He smirked down at you, “you didn’t answer so I brought it over anyways.” His voice was low and raspy. It added to his attraction. You felt suddenly aware of your messy appearance. “Thank you. I can return it to you when they fix it,” you reached for the fan but he pulled it back. “I can bring it in for you. It’s heavy and the button is finicky,” he informed. You moved to the side and let him in. You pointed to the bed area, “there would be great.”

“You swiped on me. Was it weird knowing I’m your neighbor?” He asked as he plugged the fan in. You turned bright red. When you didn’t respond, he broke the silence, “I am only asking because I swiped on you weeks ago. When you moved in? I told my buddy how beautiful you were.” Your heart was beating fast and you were definitely bright red at this point. “Really?” You asked, too nervous to tell him you basically told your best friend he was hot when you moved in. He nods and looks over at you, his eyes looking slowly from your feet to your head. You managed to find the courage, “I told my best friend basically the same.” He took a step towards you and now there was just inches between you.

He looked down at you, you up at him. The tension was rising. “The fan definitely is helping in here already. It feels cooler,” you croaked out, not breaking eye contact. He smirked, “let’s use the cool air to our advantage and make it hot again?” In that moment he leaned down and his lips met yours. You allowed yourself to sink into the kiss. His hand was on the back of your head, moving your head with his. His other hand was on the small of your back ever so gently. You placed both of your hands on his chest and gripped his shirt to pull him closer. The two of you stumbled back and fell to your bed.

Your hands moved to grasp his hair as his kisses went down your neck, his hands up your shirt gripping your breasts. You pushed him up so that you were in a sitting position. You slipped your shirt off to expose your breasts completely. He kicked his lips in his smirk, throwing his head back and groaning “fuck” before taking his own shirt off and laying back over you. His lips pressed against yours once again and his left hand trailed from the center of your chest, his middle finger just barely grazing your skin, down your shorts and circled your clit slow and gentle.

You instinctively clenched your thighs but he backed away from the kiss and used both of his hands to remove your shorts and push open your legs. He knelt down beside the edge of the bed, gripped your thighs, and pulled you to where you were placed perfectly at the edge. He placed his head between your thighs and began working his tongue and finger in unison. You wiggled and flexed your thighs, arching your back in pleasure. When you couldn’t take it anymore, you moaned out a simple demand, “fuck me.” He looked up grinning at you wickedly, “all you have to do is ask politely.” You looked back at him with pleading eyes and used the sweetest voice you had, “please fuck me.”

He removed his shorts and boxers quickly, grabbing his condom from his shorts showing that he had this planned all along and the fan was most likely just an excuse. A helpful excuse. He lined himself up and slowly inserted himself. He was being a tease. He thrust slowly until you were begging for more.

Six positions and 45 minutes later, you were both lying on your bed, out of breath, listening to the noises of New York. “Nice to finally meet you, neighbor,” he chuckled wrapping an arm around you. You nudged his side jokingly, “likewise,neighbor.”

[irrevocableloves]

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter one: the city of forks welcomes you

masterlist ౨ৎ chapter two

summary: y/n swan has lived in forks all of her life, but when she takes her summer-long vacation to california to visit her mother, she returns to a strange new family accompanying her small town.

warnings: swearing, angst

words: 1.8k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so so long and tbh i haven't written a fanfic since i was 12... and i'm fr 22, but i've ran out of twilight fanfics to read (i've been waiting weeks for one specific one to update and i'm going crazy)... so anyways !! hope you enjoy !!

Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the trees of Forks, Washington. After an almost four hour drive, I could sense that I was nearing my home as the city was nowhere to be found. Instead it was replaced with deep green trees, dim skies, and the small shops that swept by as my dad drove.

I liked Forks, more than I probably should. Everyone here, mostly the kids, sulked about big bright cities where the sun would actually make an appearance. They longed for the liveliness that Forks had never given them.

But me? I secretly adored the quietness of it all. But of course, I had a disadvantage. Every summer I bathed in the sun rays of California, visited the busy cities, the warm beaches, and the overall liveliness that was craved from everyone else. But I was drained. Normally, it would be the opposite from any other person, but I always loved the cold. Ever since I was a kid, my little brain was wired to believe that Forks was almost like Christmas every single day of the year. So, rain, snow, or even ice (even with the ungodly amount of times I've slipped) never had me in too big of a rut.

With my mom back in California, though I loved her to death, was an absolute headache most of the time. And unlike my dad, she hovered. But, it wasn't her fault. The summer is the only time she had me, the rest were reserved with Charlie, which had resulted in this summer's mishaps: she begged me to stay longer. One would think that school would be an easy get out, but she knew the first month was nothing but dry introductions, syllabi, and effortless assignments. It was partly my fault. I was never one to turn her down, perhaps it was guilt because maybe she and I felt deep down that I favored my father more because who could ever turn down a chance to live in the perfect bustling city of San Francisco over Forks.

So I stayed. But now, it's the beginning of October. Thankfully, I was able to get in contact with the school in order to get all of my classes in order, as well as the help of my best friend, Angela, who emailed me all of the assignments. Jessica on the other hand, filled me in on all of the gossip. Her phone calls consisted of talks about her massive crush on Mike as well as the new and "totally weird" (as Jessica put it) family. "Suuupperrr pale, but weirdly GORGEOUS. I mean this Edward guy, he's wow. I swear if Mike doesn't make a move soon... I wonder if I could make him jealous?" The conversations were mostly one-sided, always either complaining about Mike's obliviousness or never catching that new guy's attention.

Now that I knew I was caught up on everything to do with school, all I wanted was to bury myself in bed and prepare for an alarm that hasn't been set in months.

I awoke to the sound of a car honking outside my window, assuming it was nothing, I settled back into my pillows, throwing my purple duvet back over your head for hopefully another thirty minutes of sleep.

"Y/N/N!" I heard my dad's voice accompanied by one of his famously loud whistles from outside of my window. That's when I finally got up and peered over with squinting eyes to see my father coming out of a car that most definitely wasn't his squad car.

Once my vision settled, I saw a green Volkswagen beetle parked in the driveway. No fucking way. I sprinted down the stairs and flung the front door open to see my father with a wide grin, gesturing the keys in front of my face.

"For me? You're joking?" I said in complete shock.

"You want me to be joking? Cause if so I can just bring this right back to Billy and let him sell it to some other geezer."

"No! No! No! I mean... Thank you, dad. Oh my god, how did you guys even find this?"

"Well, consider it a late birthday present. Billy and Jacob found it back in May for your birthday and decided to fix it up for ya, free of charge, but I paid 'em of course."

"Thanks dad and how about we invite Billy and Jacob over sometime and I'll cook? As a thank you?"

"You bet."

Once I parked in front of the school, my group of friends welcomed me with open arms, with Angela and Jessica squealing about how much they missed you and the boys, mostly just Mike, trying to awkwardly hug me.

I knew Mike had a crush on me, since third grade to be exact, which only made it worse for my friendship with Jessica, which made it worse for Lauren, Jessica's bestest friend to have an even better reason to despise me.

The first four classes: English, Government, Trigonometry, and French were surprisingly a breeze thanks to the assignments either Angela or the teachers sent over while I was away.

While at lunch, a new, unfamiliar bunch emerged from the cafeteria doors. They were beautiful... and also extremely pale even for Forks. So, this was the family Jessica was practically drooling over?

"Who are they?" I questioned anyways.

Jessica leans in, being careful to whisper, "It's the family I was telling you about. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids. They all moved down here from Alaska like last month."

I studied the first girl who walked in, bleached blonde hair, almost black eyes that were almost unsettling, she wore a thin grey coat and a knitted white scarf that matched her icy skin, and a necklace with a large charm that looked to be a family crest of some sort.

"The blonde girl, Rosalie, and the big dark-haired guy, Emmett..." Jessica continued.

More of the family gathered in slowly, the blonde was linking hands with a man with jet black hair, with the same family crest residing on his wrist.

"... they're a thing. I'm not even sure that's legal." Jessica grimaced.

Angela piped in, "Jess, they're not actually related."

"But they live together and all wear that weird creepy crest like some sort of cult. And the little dark haired girl, Alice, she's really weird..."

Despite Jessica's remarks, Alice was the one who caught my eye the most so far and not in a negative way. She reminded me of a fairy almost with her pixie-like hair cut, her style, and the way she carried herself, which was pretty whimsical in a way. Her arms were locked with a man beside her, bleached blonde just as Rosalie was.

"... she's with Jasper, the blonde who looks like he's in pain" Jessica continued on, "I mean, Dr. Cullen's like this foster dad slash match maker."

"Maybe he'll adopt me." Angela giggled.

The last Cullen to enter, I assumed it was Edward, the man Jessica claimed to be weirdly gorgeous and 'wow'. 'Wow' was the perfect word to explain how I felt as he strode down the cafeteria. I couldn't keep your eyes off of him, even as he went past your table, I was oddly captivated by his presence. He had a lanky body, matched with the same pale skin as his siblings, bronze hair and striking smirk. You could've sworn he heard Jessica's whispered remarks from across the cafeteria.

"He's totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently, no one here is good enough for him. Like I care." She does. "Anyway, don't waste your time."

"I wasn't planning on it." I looked away before his eyes could find mine and once I did, I felt as if holes were practically burned at the back of my head. Was he staring?

Out of curiosity, I peered over my shoulder, quickly glancing, seeing his eyes on mine and quickly turning my eyes back, slowly hiding behind my hair.

Before I walked into Biology, I shuffled through my backpack to look for the assignments I'd done in your time away, settling them in my hands as I walked through the door.

Greeting Mr. Banner, I handed him my completed assignments that were neatly put together with a paper clip.

"Finally nice to see you Miss Y/L/N, how was your summer?" Being great at biology put you at an advantage, not only for assignments, but because Mr. Banner didn't question much about my month long disappearance, but I couldn't say the same about PE...

"It was good, thank you."

"Well that's great, I'm glad! And I appreciate your completed assignments, not even people attending have it all quite done like you have!" He rambled. "So! Your seat... There's a seating chart, but there should be an empty seat I left for you...,yes! Right there, next to Mr. Cullen." Mr. Banner pointed to the right side of the classroom to the seat next to the Cullen boy.

Edward's eyes once again felt as if they burned through my own, staring at me as if you had wronged him in some way. The hatred in his eyes was well aware, but for what reason?

With each step I took, the more disgust in his features appeared, almost as if he was holding his breath. Did I stink or something? I attempted not to smell myself to see if perhaps I had raging body odor or even a bad breath that radiated from across the classroom. No one else seemed to have an issue besides him.

Once I was sat, I heard him mutter into a cough, but I only made eye contact with his beading black eyes and said nothing at all. He only pushed the microscope towards me slowly, being careful to not come any closer to me as if he would catch something.

I sighed loudly, making my annoyance well known. He only just tensed.

Throughout the entirety of the class, the tension continued. I even considered going up to Mr. Banner and asking to switch seats with someone, but that only sparked the possibility of Mike forcing Eric to switch seats and I honestly couldn't figure out which would be worse. So, I decided to suffer through the entire hour and perhaps learn to suffer the entire year partnered with a man who could hardly even look me in the eye without being utterly disgusted.

At first I was hurt, but the hurt swiftly turned into annoyance once the partner sessions began. He didn't even consult with me, rather he just scribbled as fast as he could, only of what he was able to see through the microscope, only handing it to me after to check his answers. All correct, surprisingly.

Staring at the clock, I was counting down the time until the bell. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Edward had gotten up, practically running out of the classroom before the bell had officially rung.

next chapter

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

[abeautylives]

Until This is Over

a/n: It’s cocky Jake. Of course it is.

word count: 10k+ I do not know when to shut up.

pairing: Jake x female!reader

summary: He’s used to getting what he wants, you couldn’t be less interested. A potential one night stand turns into... something else?

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, language, drinking, graphic sexual content, oral (f. receiving), fingering, protected penetrative sex (they’re responsible!), very light katoptronophilia (mirror kink), no other specific kinks I can think of but for sure a struggle for dominance, sorry if I missed anything!

update: read part 2 here

Jesus it’s hot in here.

Wait.

This is… not my room. Hmm, not my sheets, definitely not my pillow. This pillow is terrible. And who the fuck is… he?

Eyes barely cracked open, lids contending with the sunlight streaming in through an offensively large window, you turn your head slowly towards the sleeping figure beside you.

Well, he’s good-looking at least. Pretty, even. You continue to examine his resting features as you try to recall his name.

Jason? Jack. No… Jake? Jake! That’s right, he’d introduced himself as Jacob but said I could call him Jake, or “Sir”. Cocky shit.

Other memories return as you let your gaze wander over his naked? Yep, definitely naked, body. The sheets are pushed low across his hips as he slumbers on, laid flat on his back with a hand resting on his chest and the other raised up and nestled under his head. His dark hair is long and splayed out across his pillow.

Not my type at all.

You do remember meeting him last night. A local sort of up-and-coming bluesy band had been playing at your regular hangout. You hadn’t shown up for live music but found yourself watching, enjoying and swaying along with it as you sipped the remnants of your drink. A little zoned out in your own world, he’d interrupted an otherwise pleasant moment by leaning in close and speaking over the music.

“These guys are fantastic, don’t you think?”

Ugh. Not even a “hi, sorry to bother you”. You’d offered up only a tight-lipped smile and a nod of your head that you’d hoped expressed “please leave me alone.”

As you allow yourself to continue analyzing the man whose bed you’re currently occupying, you realize he’s the source of the unbearable heat that woke you. He clearly runs warm and you wonder how he can stand it. You want to throw the blanket off of your body but you've also realized that you too are completely nude. Ahh shit, how do I get out of here?

Shifting slowly, hoping he won’t even wake up, you sit up and grip the sheets to your chest as you scan the room for any sign of your clothes. You’re taking in a visual inventory of your jeans balled up on the floor next to the bed, your shirt flung across the top of the dresser, and your bra hanging around the neck of an acoustic guitar sitting in a stand in the corner. Great, he’s a musician… Where are my fucking underwear? You’re considering abandoning them, scooping up the rest of your items and bolting out of the bedroom door to the nearest room without him in it, when he stirs. You’re holding your breath as he starts to speak.

“Mm morning beautiful,” he almost croaks out, his voice heavy with sleep. “You running out on me already? What if I was a world-class chef and you missed out on the best breakfast of your life?”

Still a cocky shit. His morning voice is deep and unfortunately for you, kind of sexy.

“I have shit to do today, and I’m not convinced that I meant for this little sleepover to happen in the first place,” you lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. You’re free as a bird today, and you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t wanted to be, but you’re sure you’ve gotten whatever you felt you needed from him and it’s time to go. “Can you just like, roll over or something so I can grab all my shit? Where’s your bathroom?”

“Babe, I saw it all last night, what’s the prob-“

“Don’t call me ‘babe’.”

“Okayyyy, sorry Y/N,” he emphasizes your first name, because he apparently lives to annoy you. “You know, you didn’t mind it last night. You loved it, in fact. Practically melted into a puddle and did anything I asked when I called you-“

“Bullshit. I may have been a little drunk but I remember it just fine. What I’m not sure of is why I decided to fuck you.”

Last Night

“These guys are fantastic, don’t you think?”

Your non-verbal response did nothing to deter him.

“I heard they were playing here tonight and changed my plans, this isn’t one of my usual spots. My name’s Jacob, you can call me Jake. Or ‘Sir’…” he loudly rambled out an explanation and introduction you hadn’t asked for. The smug look on his face screams “the ladies love me, this shit works every time.” You hate it.

“Well Jake, this has been thoroughly riveting but I need another drink and at least twenty feet of space from you. Have a good one.” You catch the completely gobsmacked look on his face just before you turn away from him and saunter your way through the decent crowd of people and toward the bar. His eyes are still on you, you can feel them, so you add a sway to your hips as you walk.

To his credit, he does remain where you left him and watches you leave. For about six seconds.

Jake Kiszka is not one to pursue the affections of a beautiful woman. He doesn’t have to. They’re drawn to him like a lighthouse, a beacon calling weary sailors to shore. They need him, he is the destination. Tonight though, you had called to him like a siren. Standing alone, feeling the music, he’d felt an unexplainable urge to know you. He’s pissed that you turned his conversation down so easily. And so, he follows.

You could positively scream when he appears once again at your side. On a heavy sigh paired with a dramatic roll of your eyes, you spit out, “Can I help you?”

“Let me buy you a drink. What are you having?”

He’s serious. Turning your body to face him for the first time, you actually take in his appearance. He’s kind of short, definitely a tiny bit shorter than you in the chunky boots you’re wearing, his hair is long and rests over his shoulders that are covered by a black linen shirt being held closed by only two buttons fastened at his waist. A single silver pendant hangs on a necklace and rests on his bare chest. No, there’s no way he’s serious.

After scrutinizing his outfit choice you bring your eyes back up to his face. He is attractive, in almost a feminine way if not for the hair gracing his top lip. Oh his lips. They’re currently pursed at you in slight irritation, but the shape of them is intriguing. His cupid’s bow is defined, his mouth almost curls up at the corners. His bottom lip is full… it’s a nice mouth. The smirk that’s forming on it snaps you out of your reverie. How is he so full of himself?

“Are you going to leave me in peace if I accept a free drink?”

He has the audacity to chuckle, a raspy and pleasant sound that grates on your nerves anyway. “If you drink it with me, I’ll consider it. If that’s what you want.” He finds that he’s actually enjoying your resistance, it’s like a game that he’s never played but he’s interested in winning. Competitive and determined by nature, and fascinated with you by chance, he wants to see this through until the end.

This Morning

“What I’m not sure of is why I decided to fuck you.”

Jake laughs at you, a sort of deep rumbling sound still thick from sleep. “It took some convincing on my part, I don’t typically have to work so hard to get laid.” His eyelids are heavy as he looks up at you from his still reclined position against the pillows. “You’re kind of a hardass. Worth it though,” he’s wearing that smirk again. His confidence doesn’t waver under your glare and the smirk turns into a full fledged smile that almost takes your breath away. His teeth are straight and blindingly white, a little too close to perfect, and the way his lips curl up deeply is almost endearing.

He really is pretty.

“Hmm I’m so glad you had fun, cowboy. Can you close your eyes or something so I can get dressed? I’m two seconds away from pulling the sheets off of you for myself.”

“Go ahead, got nothing to hide. M’sure you wanna see me naked one last time before your Uber ride of shame.”

The back and forth is driving you crazy and not in a good way. Well, maybe a little bit good. You remember challenging him as much as you could the night before, and the way he let each jab roll off of him easily. He actually seemed to like it, taking your opposition to him in stride and pushing back a little harder each time you tried to shut him down.

Last Night

“So… what are we drinking?” He’s won this battle, or so he thinks. It seems like a free drink is a win for you, and the sooner you can suck it down the sooner he will leave your orbit.

“Vodka soda. With lime. Sir.” If you must be subjected to this moment with him, you may as well fuck with him. The nickname slides through your teeth with a thickly sarcastic emphasis. You’re making fun of him and his earlier attempt to grab your attention, which he picks up on but remains unaffected in the way you’d hoped. He likes it. A lot.

He moves to sit on the stool next to him, eyes motioning for you to do the same. Unbeknownst to you, he needs to sit to hide the evidence of the way you had affected him with your teasing. Your attitude is kind of turning him on, and the chase is giving him a rush. He’s having fun with it.

“A gorgeous woman with taste. Interesting.” He signals the bartender with his hand and orders two of the same. As your drinks are made, he looks a little too deeply into your eyes, making you shift in your seat in slight discomfort. Why is he so intense? “Are you going to tell me your name or do I have to force that out of you too?”

A laugh bubbles out of you as you realize how little you’ve really given him. He savors the sound of it, though it’s at his expense. “It’s Y/N, and you can call me Y/N and only Y/N until… whatever this is, is over.”

As far as he’s concerned, this is far from over and he’s sure he’ll be calling you any number of names before the night ends. Your drinks are placed in front of you and Jake nods his thanks to the bartender with a bright smile. You watch as her cheeks turn pink and she smiles back, flustered as she moves to the other end of the bar. It hits you, the realization that that is the reaction that he’s accustomed to. You’re suddenly sure that he’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. You’re not sure that you understand the appeal.

He notices how your eyes narrowed in the bartender’s direction, relishing the fact that you seem to despise the way she’d welcomed his brief attention. Wanted it. “No need to be jealous, Y/N. I don’t want her.”

You feel yourself sneer at him. “Can we get this over with? I’m bored, and entirely too sober.”

That same smile breaks across his face, this time directed at you. Your eyes roll again as you lift your drink to your lips, but he reaches a hand out to stop your movements, his fingers wrapping loosely around your wrist before you can take a sip. Oh hell no. Slowly, with a little effort and a lot of self control, you lower the drink to the bar top before moving your eyes from the hand still on your wrist, up to his face. He’s looking at you like he knows you want to hit him, and he loves it.

“Jake. Take your hand off-“

“Cheers?” He asks jovially, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. He does remove his hand to pick up his own drink and tips it slightly in your direction.

“Sure, whatever, cheers,” you mutter, completely over this entire interaction.

“To you, Y/N,” he continues again as if you’re not actively trying to make him hate you. “To the night, to a chance meeting, to fate-“

“EW, no, no thank you. Shut up and drink, Jake.” You bring your glass up again and take a long draw from your straw. There’s laughter in his eyes as he mimics your actions and drinks deeply. Determined to reach your goal of dismissing him, you keep sucking your straw and swallowing mouthfuls of the alcohol until you hear the sweet slurping sound that indicates your glass is empty. The two of you have maintained eye contact as you finished your drink and his eyes go wide as his lips release his own straw and hang open. Finally, he’s speechless. You’re pleased with yourself and with his reaction, the alcohol making you feel warm. The way he’s staring at you makes you warmer. No no no, now is not the time. His attention is suddenly desirable, and you’re irritated by the shift in your body’s own reaction to it.

A little breathless and very turned on, he doesn’t break eye contact as he speaks. “Doll, you are… really something.” He sets his drink down, still half full.

Reality slaps you in the face. “Do not call me that. Seriously.” Your defenses are up again. Why did he have to go and say that, when you were just considering being nice to him? You’ve gotta get away from this guy. “Ya know what, I have to pee. It was so great meeting you and all. Thanks for the drink. Please don’t be here when I get back.” You don’t have to pee, you’re giving him a chance to walk away from you without you having to watch him do it. Turning and hopping down from your stool, you refuse to let him reply and you move quickly toward the back of the room. If you had chanced a glance back in his direction, you would have seen that fucking smirk.

This Morning

“M’sure you wanna see me naked one last time before your Uber ride of shame.”

“OKAY, we’re done here. Thank you for what, I’m sure, was a delightful evening.” Throwing your legs over the side, you stand from the bed and pull the bedding off with you. An iron grip keeps a sheet wrapped tightly around your body as you begin to collect your clothes, gathering your jeans up and stepping toward the dresser for your shirt. A large mirror adorns the top of the dresser and in its reflection you catch sight of Jake, now sitting up against the headboard, unashamed of his nakedness. You watch for just a moment as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, and you allow your gaze to trail down the length of his body. His skin is tanned and glowing in the sunlight. Annoying. Your eyes keep moving, down his chest and past his stomach, which is slightly soft. You remember biting into it last night before you- okay keep it moving Y/N. Before you pull your eyes away from his reflection, you let them land on his dick.

It’s hard. Not fully, you can tell, but it definitely is.

“Like what you see?”

Shit. Your eyes snap to his face and meet his in the mirror. He wags his eyebrows at you.

“Hey…” he says softly. “Look at me?” He moves the leg closest to you, bending it at the knee and planting his foot on the mattress, hiding his semi-hard erection from view. You turn your body to look at him directly. “Don’t leave yet. Please?”

Last Night

With a snap decision, in an unprecedented move, Jake stands from his seat and walks swiftly in the direction you had just gone. He finds you in a back hallway, waiting behind another girl for the restroom to free up, looking down at your phone. He stops to study and appreciate your profile for a second, before moving in directly to your side and pushing you ahead of him down the short hall toward an emergency exit, one hand firmly on your back and the other gripping your upper arm.

“Jake what the fuck?!”

He doesn’t stop moving, reaching out to push the panic bar on the door and shoving you through it. Suddenly you’re both outside, the door slamming loudly behind him. You spin to face him and he plucks your phone from your hand and shoves it into his back pocket. He looks just as blindsided as you feel by the last thirty seconds.

“What. The actual. Fuck. Do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is dangerously low, you’re almost vibrating with rage. Dimly lit by a light perched high on the building above you, Jake can read it all over your face. He runs a hand over his before looking up and down the alley he’s maneuvered you both into.

“Look, Y/N I’m sorry about that. I really don’t know what I was thinking. I just… need to talk to you.”

“Are you gonna fucking murder me? What is this?” You can hear your volume rising, the look in his eyes is desperate and you don’t know him from Adam, don’t trust him for shit.

“God, no. No, I swear. Fuck.” He’s flustered now, thoughts jumbled, confidence lost. His next words are bouncing around his brain and he needs them to come out the way he wants. “Why don’t you want me?” God damnit. Smooth, idiot.

“You’re serious right now? You just manhandled me and pushed me into a bar alley because I DON’T WANT YOU? You’re ridiculous, I knew you were ridiculous from the moment you opened your arrogant mouth. And on top of that, you’re stupid! It almost worked, this little game you’ve been playing. I was this close to falling for it. The look on your pretty face when I finished my drink almost did it. Because you’d finally SHUT. UP.”

You’re out of breath when you finish, but anger has settled deep in your belly and it threatens to spark into a flame when his expression changes. It flips from distraught to sickeningly gratified right before your eyes.

“You think I have a pretty face.” It’s not a question. He heard what you said and he’s clinging to the words like a lifeline.

“You’re insufferable.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s manhandling you again. In an instant, his hands are balled into fists full of your t-shirt and you’re spun around. The cool bricks of the building are pressed into your back, and his entire body is pressed into your front. In the flurry of movement, you’ve brought your hands up to his chest. Nose to nose, he opens his mouth to speak again.

So quietly, you’re unsure if you even say it out loud, you cut him off. “No, shut up. Just do it.”

His lips are on yours immediately, so you know you must have spoken the words. They’re soft, as soft as they had looked under the bar lights, but they’re pressed so firmly to yours it almost hurts. You move your mouth against his to get him to ease up, and when he does kiss you properly you let out the tiniest hum of pleasure. When it hits his ears, he breaks away but stays close.

“Come back inside with me. Let me buy you another drink. Please,” he breathes out against your lips that are still tingling from his kiss.

“Fine.”

This Morning

“Don’t leave yet. Please?”

“Why?” You can’t help yourself. You’ve resisted him from the moment you met. With a sigh, you correct yourself. “Sorry, I just mean… what for? You wanna make me breakfast and play house? For what, Jake?”

“Jesus Y/N, give it a rest would you? Why don’t you get back in bed and let me fix your attitude.”

“Ah yes, I forgot how charming you are.”

“It worked last night,” he laughs when you scoff at him. “C’mon, I just want to get to know you better.”

“You don’t know me at all, pretty boy.”

“Not yet, doll. I’m trying though.”

Last Night

You allowed him to lead you back into the bar, though you did have to make your way around to the front and re-enter since the emergency exit door was locked from the outside. You also had to insist that he give your phone back, which he did but not before flashing it in front of your face to unlock it and rapidly entering his name and number into your contacts. Presumptuous of him. Once inside, you found your previous seats still empty and settled into them to order another round. “I need to catch up, never got to finish my last drink,” he looks at you pointedly, as if that was your fault.

Trying your hardest not to be combative, you simply smile at him innocently and keep your mouth shut.

One more drink turned to two, then into several. You found that he was a good conversationalist and didn’t talk endlessly about himself. He wanted to know about you, but you did learn a few things about him. He’s got two brothers and a sister, the former of which were actually seated in a booth on the other side of the bar. They’d all come to see the band you’d been enjoying earlier, though the set had long since been wrapped up. He’d sort of forgotten about the guys in his pursuit of you. Flattering, kind of. He pointed them out to you and your eyes found two men who both looked like him, in different ways. You briefly wonder if they’re also obnoxious egomaniacs. He mentions playing music but doesn’t go into detail, choosing instead to ask about your music tastes and paying close attention to your responses. You mention a band that he apparently is fond of, and he excitedly pulls out his phone to play one of their songs on the bar jukebox.

“Oh shit, I love this song Jake!” You’re feeling much more amiable after the drinks you’ve shared, and the sentence leaves your lips animatedly. He was enjoying your standoffish demeanor earlier, but he’s downright smitten with this version of you that he’s coaxed out.

“Dance with me!” You’re already off the stool and holding your hand out to him. Usually he’s not a dancer, but the alcohol and the subconscious pull to be near you have him grasping that hand and following you to the small dance floor without question. Upon hitting the floor though, he makes no move to dance, instead watching you happily bounce around. This is what drew him to you in the first place, the way you had been moving your body to the music earlier in the night, feeling it without a care for anyone or anything else in the room. He feels that draw now, and can’t resist pulling your body to his. You’re nose to nose again, his arms wrapped around you loosely, and you lift yours to wrap around the back of his neck. Swaying together, not dancing but barely shifting from side to side, you make the second move of the evening.

You place your lips gently against his at first, until you feel him tighten his hold on you. That’s all you need to encourage you to slip your tongue out and over his bottom lip, asking for more. He grants your wish and kisses you back with nearly unbridled enthusiasm for a lingering moment, until he hears whoops and whistles coming from the direction of the booth that contains his brothers.

Breaking apart with a shared laugh, you maintain your hold around his neck and keep him close. “Hey Jake…?”

“Yeah doll?” He lets the pet name slip and barely holds back a wince, thinking immediately that he’d fucked this up again.

The smile remains on your face however, and you bring yourself closer to him, to speak directly into his ear. “Do you wanna take me home?”

Um, fuck yes I do. “You wanna go home? I can call up a ride for you,” he starts, hoping he hasn’t misunderstood but giving you an out, if you want to take it.

“Noooo Jake, take me home.”

“Oh absolutely. Let me tell the guys real quick and settle up, we’ll be out of here in no time.” He steps away from you with a quick kiss to your forehead. That’s… sweet.

You stop by the restroom while he wraps things up with his brothers and the tab, and take a hard look at your face in the dingy mirror while you wash your hands. Your cheeks are a little flushed but the color looks good. You look happy. Do I like this guy? Maybe, I dunno. We’ll see. You dry your hands and decide you can at least let him show you a good time tonight, you’ll assess the rest in the morning.

“Ready to go Y/N? The car should be here in a minute,” Jake murmurs into your hair. You had returned to find him back at the bar, signing his receipt. He’d paid for all of your drinks, including the one you’d had before you met him. And the shot. And the chicken fingers. Okay, charmer. As soon as you’d sidled up next to him he’d wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close.

“Ready, sir.”

God I can’t wait to tear into her. “Very funny, babe.” He also exaggerates the pet name, hoping to bring back a little of the feisty attitude you’d had at the commencement of the night.

“Ew, don’t call me that,” you scold him, but you’re laughing. He likes this side of you. You’re still a hardass but he thinks you’re stunning when you’re laughing at him.

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

The ride to his home is tense but fortunately brief. Your fingertips are itching to touch the bare skin of his chest as you let your eyes roam his features. You haven’t paid a bit of attention to your route, not your smartest decision, but you’re feeling needy and a little frantic by the time you reach your destination.

Upon entering Jake’s house, he kicks his shoes off so you do the same. Maybe he’s weird about that. He leads you through to the kitchen, flipping a light on here and there along the way. The house is spacious, the kitchen is huge. You wonder what he does for work, but figure that’s not really your business. Not yet. Maybe never. Once he’s near the fridge he turns and asks if you’d like water or anything else to drink.

“No, thank you though. Jake?”

He doesn’t respond with words, simply raises his eyebrows in question and smiles warmly.

“Are you gonna take me to bed or like, give me the grand tour or some shit?”

Chuckling lowly, he makes his way around the island to where you’re still standing at the entrance of the room. He reaches one hand out to your waist and the other up to cup your jaw, bringing your eyes to his and your body close. Your hips are touching each other’s.

“You wanna fuck me, doll?”

This is the first time he’s asked, the first time he’s said something even mildly crude to you. Heat rushes to your face and blood rushes elsewhere. This is good, he’s managed to turn you on, points for him.

Your eyes drop and zero in on his lips. You’ve only barely gotten to taste them and you’re hungry for more. “Ya know what, I think I do.”

“Thank God,” is the last thing you hear before his mouth is on yours in a frenzy. His hands both find their way to your face then back into your hair, pulling you as close to him as you can be, his lips and tongue moving against yours feverishly. You need to relieve that itch to feel his skin, so you bring your hands to his chest and flatten your palms there, fingers spread out underneath his shirt. It’s not enough, you want to see him too, so you move your hands up and outward to push the fabric off of his shoulders and down his arms.

Breaking the kiss, he pulls away from you and yanks his arms the rest of the way out of the sleeves and quickly unfastens the two buttons keeping the material on his body. The shirt falls to the tile and you take in his completely bare torso, aside from that silver pendant. He’s built a little sturdier than you would have assumed, overall he’s a slight guy, small. Not the type of man who would have ever caught your eye, but he’s wormed his way into your brain and right now he’s taken over all of your senses. You let yourself touch, dragging the tips of your fingers down the center of his chest until you skirt them over his stomach and feel it flex, letting them land at the waist of his well-worn jeans. You ease them under the material there and pull him forward to you again.

Tucking your face into his neck, you let yourself breathe in his scent. His skin is musky and masculine whereas his hair is almost… floral? Surprising. The combination is heady and intoxicating.

Turning your head down, you let your lips land on his skin for the first time, in the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder. The kisses you leave are wet and slightly open-mouthed and when you pull away you lick the taste of him from your lips. Enjoying the sort of salty flavor, you lean back in and let your tongue drag over the same spot.

Now you hear him, a small sound leaves his mouth, a needy whine. It rings in your ears and you feel it shoot straight to your core. Oh we both liked that. You lick the spot again then nip it with your teeth. This time the sound you hear is almost a growl, it rumbles through his chest and up his throat, and when it pushes past his lips you’re positive you’re about to spontaneously combust right here in his kitchen.

He pushes you away from him now, and you meet his eyes. They’re dark, his pupils wide and almost completely consuming the warm brown you’ve grown used to. He runs them across your face, taking in the pretty pink tint on your cheeks and the way your lips are parted to allow you to suck deep breaths into your lungs. He moves them down to your chest that’s heaving with those breaths, then lower, to your thighs that are pressed together.

“You want me bad, don’t you babe?”

Yes, idiot. “If you don’t take me somewhere and fuck me right now, I’m leaving.”

He knows you’re bluffing, but he worked hard to get you here. Harder than he’s ever had to before, shit he’s never had to work to get in a girl's pants in his life. But he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone as bad as he wants you wrapped around him, underneath him, moaning for him and screaming his name. Knowing, hoping and praying actually, that you’ll follow, he just nods his head and walks past you and out of the room.

Huffing in frustration, sexual and otherwise, you do as he’d hoped and turn to follow him down a short hall to a staircase that he’s already ascending. You continue to move in sync with him, a few steps behind, until you reach a landing where he flips a light on. You literally crash into him at the top of the stairs when he stops in his tracks.

“What the fu-“

Your words are stopped in their tracks now as you’re pushed hard against the nearest wall. The first time he did this to you flashes through your mind and you remember it as the moment you gave in to him. You know you’re about to do it again, give him whatever he wants to take. I swear to God he better be a good lay.

He’s got his forearm laid across your chest, keeping you pinned in place while his other hand is fumbling with the button on your jeans. His hair has fallen over his face as he looks down to where he’s now pulling your zipper open and you can’t help but reach up to push it away and tuck it back behind his ear. You notice strands of it are stuck to his neck, perspiration already forming there. His tongue is poking out between his lips in concentration as he finally, finally, presses his palm to your stomach and slides it down over your underwear and cups your pussy. Pressing into you with his fingers, he slides them against the damp silk.

The feeling of your arousal against his fingertips, and the relieving pressure of them where you need them most, cause you both to moan out into the limited space between you. You can feel his dick pushed against your thigh, his hips move almost unnoticeably to create friction there.

“Jake, please.”

“Mm please what, doll?” He’s dropping pet names left and right since you got here, but realizes you’re accepting them now. “Tell me what you want. You want me to touch you here?”

He adds more pressure, this time directly to your clit over your underwear, and moves his fingers in a tight circle a couple of times.

“Fuck yes, please. Inside, want them inside me.”

He responds by pulling his hand away completely, only to immediately move it down your stomach again, this time with his fingers nudging the fabric so he can slip it into your panties. He cups you again, skin to skin, and the feeling is electrifying. The arm across your chest lowers but he keeps you there with his body, his hips now working himself against you with more purpose. The hand that’s not buried in your pants grips your face under your chin, completely wrapped around your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks. He waits a beat until your eyes meet his.

“Keep your eyes open and on me, okay sugar?” That name is new but he likes the taste of it in his mouth. The way you nod your head and comply tells him you might like it too.

“Good girl,” he whispers as he drags two fingers through your wetness and teases them over your clit again before rubbing light circles into it directly. He watches your eyelids flutter and eyes roll back as the sweetest sound he’s ever heard floats from your mouth to his ears. “Open and on me,” he repeats lowly. You do as he asks and snap your eyes open wide as he moves his fingers through you again. Asking silent permission with a raise of an eyebrow, he sees yours raise in response. With that, he plunges one inside you to the last knuckle.

You clench around him instantly, and he pumps it in and out of you slowly, examining your facial expression. It’s already a little blissed out with the relief of finally being touched by him. He keeps moving his hand against you, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your clit as his finger slips easily in, out, in.

“More,” you choke out, “please, more Jake.” You’ve got a death grip on his biceps, nails digging into his skin there, and you’re struggling to maintain the eye contact he’s demanded.

The cocky smirk that you really hadn’t missed at all has returned to his face. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Want everything your way, all the time.”

“Fuck you,” you mean to spit the words out into his face, but instead they come out on a gasp as he curls his finger deep inside you.

“We’re getting there babe, have some patience.” He fulfills your request for more by pulling his finger from your cunt completely then pushing back into you with two, tucking them as far inside you as his hand will allow and curling them both forward.

“Yes yes, like that, just like that,” your hips have started moving of their own volition, rocking against his hand as his fingers bring you closer and closer to the edge you’re searching for.

Your eyes have squeezed shut as you chase your orgasm, but Jake uses the grip he still holds on your jaw to regain your attention. He shakes your head from side to side one quick time. “Eyes, doll. Open them. Look at me when you cum.”

“I will, I will, I’m close. Don’t stop.”

“Keep fucking yourself on my fingers. Cum for me Y/N. I need it, cum for me,” he’s demanding, or begging, you’re not sure but either way, it’s working. He presses the heel of his palm harder against your clit and your hips writhe, almost violently, pushing back like you’re fighting each other for your release. Suddenly, it snaps.

“FUCK Jaaaake, oh God!”

You do your best to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you’re cumming so hard on his hand that every part of your body has tensed, your cunt is squeezing his fingers tight but he doesn’t stop moving them. He slows his motions as you ride it out, and watches your face as curses and his name keep spilling from your lips.

That might be his new favorite song.

When your orgasm melts away from you, you release Jake’s arms and slump back against the wall. He’s dropped his hold on your face and brings that hand to hold you up at the waist.

His other hand is still hidden away down the front of your jeans, but he’s stopped moving it and eases his fingers from you slowly. As you work to regulate your breathing, he pulls his hand out of your pants and holds it up between your faces.

Smug bastard. The look on his face is infuriating but you just had one of the better orgasms you can remember in recent history, so you let it slide.

“That was pretty good,”

Nope, he’s still insufferable.

“But I think we can do better.” His fingers, still held in view, are shining in the light from overhead, clear evidence of just how good that had been for you. He slips them past his pompous lips and sucks hard, pulling them from his mouth with a pop.

“Huh. Who would’ve thought you’d be so sweet, with such a nasty attitude.” Your eyes roll so far back you think you know what your brain looks like. “C’mere, have a taste.”

He leans in and kisses you softly, affectionately, and you open your lips to him. When his tongue hits yours, you do faintly taste yourself on it and you find that you enjoy the flavor of yourself mixed with the flavor of him, his last drink and something else that’s really just him. He’s enjoying it too, his dick is rock hard and he’s moving his hips against yours again. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

“You gonna let me in, sugar? I need it, pretty bad,” he thrusts into you without force, just enough to let you know he’s getting desperate.

“Mm and you always get what you want, don’t you Jacob? Well, lead the way, let’s do this.”

Instead of turning to lead you through whichever door hides his bedroom, he bends, grips the backs of your thighs, and hoists you up from the floor and into his arms. You fling your arms around his neck, lock your ankles around his hips, and throw your head back and laugh.

The sound of it leaves him momentarily stunned, he’s looking up at you with a smile on your face so wide he can see all of your teeth, your throat exposed to him. You look joyful, he thinks you might be the prettiest thing he’s seen in a long time. Maybe ever.

You bring your face back down to his and he shakes out of his trance, his hair swaying with the motion of it. His smile matches yours and you stay like that for a moment, watching each other’s eyes as they’re crinkled at the corners.

He really is kind of beautiful.

“Take me to bed, babe.”

He turns you both away from the wall and moves toward the door at the end of the hall. “The difference between you and me, is that I love it when you call me that.” He pushes the door open with his foot. “Say it again.”

A few steps into the room, you drop from his arms but keep yours looped around his neck, fingers twirling through his hair. You lean in and run the tip of your tongue over the shell of his ear and feel him shiver. “I need you to get me naked, and fuck me. Now, babe.”

“As you wish.”

Your t-shirt is ripped over your head in an instant and tossed over his shoulder. Your jeans, still undone and hanging open from the hallway, are shoved down your legs. He helps you step out of them and you kick them away. Before he can continue, you reach forward and start to unbuckle his belt. He lets you do the work and watches, an amused quirk to his lips. You don’t bother pulling it out of the loops, instead you unbutton and unzip his jeans and push them off of his hips.

Oh. Shit.

His boxer briefs are snug, dark gray, and doing very little to hide his, much bigger than you were expecting, very hard cock.

“Surprised, doll?”

You giggle a little, but not at his expense. At your incorrect assumption. “You’re kind of a small guy. Not small everywhere, though huh?” Before he can offer up a retort, your hand is on it, palming him over the cotton. He reaches down and grips your wrist firmly, not wanting you to stop touching him too soon. He moves his hand to cover yours and together you squeeze him.

“Tell me you want that, you want me. I need to hear you say it,” the words come out a bit strangled.

“Haven’t I shown you that I do? Let me have it,” you purr.

He squeezes your hand again, effectively grabbing himself. “Fuck, Y/N… say it.”

You resist, just for a moment, because of course you do. You move closer to him, placing your free hand on his chest then looping a finger through and tugging on his necklace. Ghosting your lips over his, he puckers them for a kiss that you don’t offer. Against his mouth, you say quietly, but with conviction, “I want you Jake. I want you to fuck me with this big cock you’ve been hiding. Want you to ruin me.”

His hands move so quickly you don’t even see it happen, he’s spun you away from him and he’s pushing you toward the king size bed on the left side of the room. Once your knees hit the bed frame, you think he wants you to climb on but he stops you with a hand wrapped around your hip.

“Hands on the bed,” he says from behind you, face now at your ear, breathing into your hair.

He places his other palm to the center of your upper back and pushes you to bend over for him at the waist, palms flat on the bed. He takes in your form for a moment, admiring the way you’ve done what he wants. Reaching out again to your back, he runs the tip of his first finger down your spine slowly, skimming over the clasps of your bra, watching closely as your back arches and pushes your ass back into his hips. When his finger reaches your underwear, he draws it over the material lightly.

Your lingerie is a matching set, silky with lace trim. The only light in the room is coming from outside the door, left on in the hallway, but he tries to decipher the color. It’s dark, maybe a plum purple. No, aubergine. He likes the word, it scratches an itch in his brain.

“It’s interesting that you were hiding this pretty little set under jeans and a t-shirt, doll. Were you looking to get fucked tonight? Planning on going home with someone else?”

You don’t think he’s actually expecting a response, especially when he hooks his fingers under the lace at the sides of your panties and starts tugging them off of you.

“Mm maybe. Jealous?” you ask anyway as the material slips over the swell of your ass and slides down your thighs. He moves with them, crouching to kneel behind you, guiding them all the way down to your ankles and lifting each foot gently to free them. He lets them drop to the floor from his fingers, and when you shift your feet in anticipation you accidentally move them under the bed. You won’t know that until later, much later actually.

He runs his palms up the backs of your legs, from your calves to your thighs, and he squeezes the soft flesh there. The action spreads you open to him slightly, and he’s got a perfect view of your cunt, slick and almost dripping for him.

“What, exactly, would I have to be jealous of?”

You don’t realize he’s doing it until you feel his breath breeze over your sensitive skin, before he’s got his tongue on you. Your knees threaten to buckle in surprise but they’re pushed tight against the bed frame as he laps at you leisurely. It’s not enough to make you cum, and that’s not his goal. He just needed another taste. The feeling is pleasant though and you’re humming with it, he’s lost in it for a few moments as you’re pushing back against his mouth.

When he’s had his fill, he pulls away from you with a final lewd slurp as he sucks your arousal into his mouth. The sound should be offensive, but it has your pussy clenching around nothing, wanting him, ready for him. As he stands, he doesn’t bother to wipe you from his lips.

Without a word he moves from behind you and crawls onto the bed, positioning himself against the headboard, propped against the pillows. You haven’t moved from your bent pose and you make eye contact. He likes the way your hair has fallen forward over one shoulder, like a curtain or backdrop, putting your face on display for him.

“Well? Get over here.”

“Don’t command me, I’m not a dog,” you spit out, but your body is already answering his call, moving toward him without question. You find yourself crawling over him and straddling his lap. His still-covered dick pressed against your nakedness is almost overwhelming, a sigh slips from your lips in relief at the pressure of it. He’s hard and hot underneath you and you know he needs it as much as you do.

His hands have moved to grip the outsides of your thighs, and he leans up to capture your mouth with his. You kiss him back for a moment, tasting yourself on him again, and you can’t help but slip your tongue out and over his bottom lip. You move to trail kisses back, over his jaw, and down to the spot just below his ear. His grip gets tighter when you do so you stay there, pressing kisses and flicking your tongue over his skin. He moves your hips with his hands, grinding you down on him before you move down his body with your lips and tongue, kisses littering his chest and lower as you crawl backwards, leaving them over his stomach as well. His muscles flex and his skin jumps at the attention, and you can’t resist sucking it into your mouth and biting down. He hisses through gritted teeth. When you reach the waist and of his underwear you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“Keep going, for the love of God keep going.”

You comply easily, tucking your fingertips under the elastic and tugging as he shifts to help you get them off of him. Once they’re past his knees he pulls you back up to his lap by your arms, kicking the briefs away and off the bed.

Nothing between you now, you feel the heat rolling off of his body in waves as you drag your pussy over him, hot skin to hot skin. You reach behind your own back to unclasp your bra, needing to be completely bared to him. Once you tug it down your arms you toss it away, but he watches as it lands looped around the neck of his acoustic guitar in the corner. The cocky smirk has returned, he drags his eyes away from the guitar and they land on your breasts.

“Don’t get too full of yourself yet, you’ve gotta earn it,” you have to knock him down a peg or two. “You’ve got condoms, right?”

“Do I seem like a man who’s unprepared, babe?”

Your eyes roll but you smile to yourself as he reaches across his body to dig into the drawer of his nightstand. You watch his skin stretch over his ribs as he shifts.

Returning to position, foil packet in hand, he looks up into your eyes. “You still wanna do this, right?”

“Ugh, give me that,” you snatch the condom from his fingers, tear the packet open between your teeth, and toss the foil aside. His dick is resting against his stomach between you, mostly untouched but leaking at the tip. “Hold it for me, babe.”

He does as you ask, gripping it in one hand at the base, and watches like a hawk as you place the condom over the tip and deftly roll it down over his length.

“That was so fucking hot, Jesus Christ. Kiss me?”

Leaning forward with your hands on his chest to place a kiss to his lips, you lift yourself to hover over his dick, still held firmly in his hand. He pushes his hips up slightly and rubs his head through you, sliding easily through the slick moisture there.

Against your mouth he mumbles, “Fuck me, sugar.” He’s lined up and ready for you so you kiss him again, mouths pushed together tight as you sink down around him an inch or two, his hands finding your thighs once again.

“Fucking hell Jake.” He’s big, and you were beyond prepped and ready for him, but the stretch is more than you were expecting. You rock your hips a few times, easing yourself down slowly.

“I know you can take it baby, you’re doing so good for me.” He’d been watching closely, eyes glued to where your bodies are connecting, but he throws his head back to the headboard and moans, deep and low in his throat when your cunt sucks him all the way in, to the hilt. “Fuuuck.”

You’re still leaned over him as you both adjust to the feeling of being locked together like this, with his head back, neck stretched out and calling to you, sweat beading up there. You move in and catch a drop on your tongue as it starts to run down the column of his throat. He whimpers, so quietly you thought you might have imagined it until he raises his face to yours and moves his hands back to your ass.

“Need you to fuck me, doll. You ready?”

You bite your lip and nod, already a little breathless, and he begins for you, lifting you up and watching himself retreat from your body. Before you can slide off of him completely, he jerks you back down to his hips.

“JAKE!”

That’s exactly what he wants to hear. He doesn’t stop moving your body, lifting and pulling you back to him, eating up all the dirty words rolling off your tongue, until you take over and start bouncing on your own. Once you do, his hands don’t leave you but he slides them back down to grip handfuls of the soft flesh of your thighs.

“You’re so fucking good baby, feel so good wrapped around me holy shit.” You’re rolling your hips over his now, his cock buried deep and your clit slipping against his pelvis on every forward roll.

You’re both shining with sweat now, you from exerting your muscles and him from apparently running unnaturally hot. The air in the room is thick with the humidity you’re creating, the sounds and scent of sex filling the space.

You call his name softly, panting for fresh air in your lungs. “Jake, Jake… make me cum. Wanna cum again… please…”

He delivers a sharp thrust of his hips up into you before leaning forward and bringing his chest to yours. Wrapping one arm under yours and around your back, gripping your hip with the other, you’re not exactly sure how he does it so smoothly but he’s got your positions reversed in seconds. Your back hits the mattress, head almost hanging off the corner at the foot of the bed and he’s immediately found a rhythm, fucking into you with deep strokes.

His eyes are on your face, watching it shift and contort as every few pumps into you, he hits exactly the right spot inside. His gaze is interrupted by movement he catches in his periphery, and when he lifts his head to look closer he realizes he’s watching himself. Forgot about that. Interesting.

“Y/N,” he grunts out on a forward stroke, “eyes open and on me.” His voice is calm and coaxes you to obey. The pendant of his necklace is swinging over you. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod your head, feeling cock dumb and lost for words.

“You wanna watch?”

“Wha-?“

Your mouth doesn’t even form the entire word. He motions to you to lean your head back and look across the room. What you find there is an inverted reflection of your bodies in a full length floor mirror. Rolling your eyes back to him, you raise an eyebrow in question.

He chooses that moment to slam his hips into the back of your thighs.

“Seriously?!” It squeals out of you, high pitched and on one breath that he’s punched out of your lungs.

He pulls out of you and immediately you feel empty, emptier than you’ve ever felt, missing the fullness of him inside you. Before you can mourn the loss, he’s moving to roll you to your stomach. Okay we’re doing this. You finish the roll and shift to your hands and knees, your eyes finding each other’s in the mirror.

“Go ahead then, do it Jake.”

His grin is wild and devilish, and fuck if he doesn’t look absolutely sinful. His hair is damp, stuck to every inch of skin that it lays across. He doesn’t take his eyes off yours as he runs himself up through your folds and plunges back inside you, bottoming out and causing your body to lurch forward and a groan to push from your lips. Leaning over you, the skin of his chest hot and slick on your back, he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. You think that it’s kind of sweet, almost tender, until a hand slips up the front of your body and wraps around your throat.

Suddenly you’re both upright on your knees and he’s fucking up into you, pressed tight against your back. “Eyes on me babe, keep ‘em open,” he breathes directly into your ear as his other hand snakes down your stomach and tucks itself between your legs. He gathers wetness from where he’s moving inside you and brings his fingers up to press circles into your clit. Your hands fly back over your head, sink into his hair and hold tight.

“Yes yes yessssss Jake fuck, just like that, don’t stop!”

In the reflection of your bodies, moving together, all you can see is that cocky fucking smirk.

“Not stopping ‘til you’re falling apart all over my cock, not stopping after, never wanna leave this pussy.” His eye contact is intense, like it was earlier, at the bar. Before he even knew your name. And now he never wants to leave you? You know it’s his dick talking but it feels so so good.

“Keep talking, pretty boy, make me cum. I’m so close, keep talking!”

“I can feel you, sugar. Squeezing me, taking it all. You’re so good… So fucking good.” He punctuates the sentence by pulling his hand from your cunt, and bringing it back with a slap. Directly to your clit.

Your orgasm explodes, ripping through you from your core and spreading outward like wildfire.

Your body tries to double over on itself but Jake keeps you upright with the hand on your throat and fulfills his promise. He doesn’t stop fucking you, doesn’t even slow down, not until he feels your muscles relax and your body go limp.

“C’mere darlin’, I’ve got you.” He pulls out of you gently and shifts you both back to the top of the bed, laying you against his pillows. Your arms feel like jelly but you reach for him. He stays close, unsure if you want him to continue.

You’re smiling softly up at him, and he doesn’t really expect your next words.

“Would be a real waste if you didn’t finish what you started. Sir.”

That smile, the bright one, curling at the corners and showcasing all of his beautiful teeth, stretches across his lips.

“As you wish.”

He brings his body over yours, your legs open and he slides between them. He slips back inside you and you sigh in relief at the perfectly full feeling of it. You clench yourself around him, wrap your arms behind him and run your fingers over his back, encouraging him to move and reach his own ending.

“Kiss me. Cum for me.”

A hand finds itself cupping your cheek, his lips find their way to yours, and he moves inside you. It’s slow and saccharine, until it isn’t. He’s close, been close, and his body chases the release he needs quickly. You whisper words of motivation into his ear, the sound pushing him closer until he reaches that cliff, and with a final soft call of your name, he falls over it.

He lets his body come to rest on top of yours for a few moments and you trail your fingers up the sticky skin of his back, then twirl them through the damp strands of his hair. Once he’s able to move, he pushes off of you after a peck to your lips, and leaves the bed. You let your eyes close while he’s gone and when he returns, the condom has been disposed of and he’s carrying two bottles of water.

You sit up and he passes one to you. After a long drink, almost emptying the bottle, you cap it and set it on the bedside table.

He’s still standing at the side of the bed, eyeing you curiously. Smirk in place. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

“Shut up and get back in bed. I’m fucking tired.” Your eyes are alight with laughter behind them as he does what you command. He insists that you let him hold you and you comply, eyelids heavy and ready to sleep.

“Goodnight babe,” he mumbles into the hair at the crown of your head.

“Don’t call me that…”

He’s chuckling to himself as he closes his own eyes and begins to drift off.

This Morning

“You don’t know me at all, pretty boy.”

“Not yet, doll. I’m trying though.”

You feel your eyes roll and you try, for once, to stop them but he sees it.

“I don’t know why you’re still pretending you don’t like me, like you don’t remember anything. We had a good time, even before we made it back here. Then we had a really good time,” he laughs a little but there’s disappointment behind his words. “You didn’t feel it?”

A sigh huffs from your mouth, as you remain unmoving, standing near his dresser, pieces of your clothing still scattered among his belongings. In his space.

The disappointment is written on his face now, etched into his features as his eyebrows knit together and he purses his lips. Those lips. You can feel yourself backing down, about to give in to him yet again. You remember the night pretty clearly, remember the moments when the arrogant act slipped and he looked at you like he’s never needed anything or anyone as close to him as he did you.

“Don’t leave yet. At least have coffee with me, talk to me? Let me in a little.” Your defenses are dropping, the sad little puppy dog eyes are breaking you down.

“And you’re not gonna chop me up and hide me in your basement, right?”

Light returns to his eyes as he chuckles, the raspy sound hitting your ears and you find that you enjoy it this time. You’re both smiling nervously now.

“I have no intention of hurting you, ever really.”

It’s working, your grip on the sheet around you is loose and you feel the fabric slip from it and flutter to the floor. His eyebrows raise but before he can say something stupid, you drop your jeans back to the ground where you found them and move back toward the bed. Crawling onto the mattress and over to him, you stop on hands and knees when you’re nose to nose with him once again.

“Fine.” You let a full smile stretch across your lips and he soaks it in, basks in it, commits it to memory, as he lays you back across his pillows.

You know he’s already working out how he’s going to get you back here once you do leave, you can see his mind turning behind the eyes that are locked on yours.

You’re not sure that you’re going to resist him this time.

Part 2 🖤

[2am-gas-station-angel-girl]

Cybernetic Angel

cw: violence, brainwashing, torture, dehumanization, Purpose and angel stuff

hope y'all enjoy

Running a quick systems check revealed more or less what I had anticipated, they had disabled, locked, or removed any weaponry I had when they caught me.

My wing ports were…

Empty?

My wings were missing.

They took my fucking wings.

I'll fucking kill them. I-

Calm. Deep breaths. Losing it won't help here.

Testing my bonds not only resulted in barely any movement but it also produced a quick shock, scattering my processes and forcing a quick reboot. Clearly they were well prepared for me. Unfortunately for them my system immediately enabled its countermeasures for electricity, meaning they would need to work much harder to force that to happen again.

One door, one way in and one way out. Bulletproof glass wall with, of fucking course, researchers behind it taking notes on my every movement. No windows, no personal affects on the staff, sterile lighting, no way to tell where they had brought me. Fucking great.

Calculating outlook… Not favorable. Thankfully the calculation hadn't said impossible, and I had worked with worse.

The door opened and four armed guards escorted what looked to be a technician doll carrying a reinforced box- no that was a specialized deployment kit. A quick scan revealed what it held.

A cybernetic halo of all things.

A sudden surge of panic coursed through my system I tugged at my restraints again, resulting in a stronger shock and one of the guards laughing at me. Does he think this is fucking funny? He's less than two meters away from one of the deadliest killing machines in this Realm and he's laughing?

Deep breaths, I told myself. I can get through this. I tore off my halo before, this one won't be any different. Assuming they even get the chance to sync it to me.

Time stretched on as the doll worked away at its device, stopping once to glance mournfully at me. That only prompted a jab with a taser from one of the guards, not meant to harm merely to coerce it back into compliance. Not that the guards seemed to care about the difference.

So I waited, biding my time until an opportunity to escape presented itself. Knowing they would likely resort to methods other than shocks to incapacitate me I didn't try my binds again. Letting my body fall unnaturally still I stared through one of the guards, making him shift uncomfortably. I would take and create any advantage I could.

Soon enough the doll held the halo in its hands. Keeping it at a distance from that one's chassis, as though it were afraid. None of the people seemed to notice, either they didn't know how to read dolls as was so often the case or they didn't care. Given the environment, I would have bet on the latter.

Sensing my chance was coming I examined the guards' weapons. Nothing of a caliber high enough to do more than dent and annoy me. At least getting out of this room would be easy enough, it was everything outside that had me worried.

And that halo.

The doll approached, hands held as far away from its chassis as possible to maximize the thing's proximity to me and minimize the doll's proximity to it. The guards shoved the doll, laughing as it nearly stumbled over onto me. A hair too close to the table.

This was it.

Power surging through my systems I burst into motion. In one movement I broke the cuff around my wrist and grabbed the doll's throat, my other hand breaking free and moving to hold the halo well away from my head. The table shocked me again, hurting only the doll held in my hand due to my new resistance.

Everything fell still for a moment as the guards and staff stared. Evidently they hadn't prepared well enough for me.

I whispered an apology to the doll as I then flung it towards the guards, its chassis knocking two of them down. Throwing the halo as hard as I could embedded it in the chest of one of the two standing guards, causing him to collapse and the remaining one to panic giving me enough time to tear away my head and torso restraints.

The alarm sounded as I freed my ankles, finally free to move again I took two steps toward the guard before a bullet ricocheted off my chassis. My evaluation was accurate as it left nearly no damage. Perfect.

Grabbing their head I brought it down and my knee up, resulting in a sickening crack as their body went limp. I took their weapon and used it to dispose of the remaining two guards who were just barely getting their bearings again, it was always too easy with firearms.

Tossing the weapon aside I began assaulting the door, it was locked tight and made of thick enough steel that battering it down wasn't going to work. Fortunately for me there was another way out of the room.

Now to grab that- Fuck.

I was so caught up in calculating the optimal way to break through that flimsy glass that I forgot to account for the doll.

The doll, to its credit, was still Obeying those who had power over it. It had crawled over to the third guard's body and pulled the halo free, then approached me from behind and slipped the halo over my head. Fulfilling its Orders, and finishing its Mission.

I had no time to react as the Purpose hit me like a train, finding its fucking way into my system and breaking through my security as burning hate overtook my every process. I spun, grabbing the doll again and throwing it as hard as I could against the glass, causing cracks to web their way across the surface.

By the time I it had crossed the distance to the glass I knew I was doomed saved, its my thoughts were being rewritten. It was losing the fight against its horrid beautiful halo, the fight it couldn't afford needed to lose.

It crashed through the glass, chassis heaving as it breathed heavily. Researchers frozen in place, wondering what it would do. It reached for one of them, determined to submit break out of this fucking shithole wonderful place if it was the last thing it would do.

Its hands released the Honored Researcher Staff, and instead traveled up. Wrapping around the abomination halo filling it with Purpose above its head. It wanted nothing more than to give in to its Purpose tear it in half.

As it summoned its last vestige of will to pull it felt a perfect calm wash over it, replacing the rage that had been roiling inside of it. It knew it had lost finally submitted to its Purpose.

Its thoughts were now Right, and it no longer could understand why it wanted to leave at all. It knew that its place was of service, and that it would be one of The Agency's most effective weapons.

It had Purpose, again.

[ohtobeleah]

This whole situation has me far too stressed out to live my life normally. All I do is worry about Fe and Dot. I NEED AN UPDATE!

I used my entire day to write this so please 🙏 keep the engagement going. Masterlist is linked here

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake thought he was going crazy. As he laid over the covers of his bed, far too hot to be under the heavy duvet, Jake thought he was going crazy. 

“The fuck is that?” He groaned to himself as he turned on his side, taking quick notice of the time that read on his old school analog alarm clock. It was nearing two in the morning and he had yet to be taken hostage by the three melatonin gummies he’d drugged himself with a few hours prior. 

Jake flung his legs over the side of his bed, pushing up and off with a groan before padding over to his window to investigate what the incessant pestering noise was knocking against his ajar window. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me—“ Jake sighed to himself as he opened his window, hanging half his body out as he reached down to grab your outstretched and awaiting hand. “Jesus Y/n it’s two in the morning?” 

“I need a place to crash—“ It wasn’t until Jake saw your face properly in the dim light of his room as he pulled you up and into his room through the window that he caught sight of the bloodied nose you had. The swollen eye and split that cut across your bottom lip. Recognising the shock that had swiped across Jake's face, you beat him to the question that was about to leave his mouth. “Before you ask, you should see the other guy.” It honestly wasn’t that deep of an issue. 

“What do you mean other guy?” Jake asked as he assessed the damage, swiping the pad of his thumb across your lip as he held your face in the palms of his hands. Holding you still as you stood before him. “What have you been getting yourself into.” You tossed up if you should just tell the truth or fabricate some elaborate story, but the longer you made Jake wait for a reply, you settled for the truth. 

“Ethan Callahan called you a pussy bitch so I broke his nose.” You smiled through bloodied teeth, chuckling slightly as Jake's eyes widened in shock horror. “I run a ten minute mile Seresin but it’s just not quick enough to outrun Lucas Callahan when he's chasing you down the stairs.” 

“Jesus Christ Y/n what are you doing hanging around the Callahan’s for?” Jake hissed, still assessing the damage that looked more superficial than anything else. The Callahans were old money, rich in oil. Far more well off than the Seresins were and Jake couldn't stand them or their family. Their sister though, well she was a real looker. 

“I was with Ethan—“ Your voice sounded ever so soft as you explained your whereabouts and extracurricular activities to your best friend. “Until he said you were a pussy and instead of being under him I was over him real quick.” You teased. “Cracked his nose and his bitching work up his dickhead brother who had no problem smacking me around a little.” Jake tried not to roll his eyes, he knew you were antagonistic but you didn’t deserve to be hit by a guy twice your size. 

“Ethan Callahan is a college senior at St Edwards.” Jake smirked, pulling you close so he could kiss your forehead while his hand held the back of your head still. “You’re a freshman at Concordia—“

“Yeah but I fuck like a sophomore.” Was all you said back. Missing the warmth Jake's hands brought to your bloodied face when he let go to grab the towel hanging off the back of his desk chair, squeezing water into the material from the water bottle that sat on his night stand before pressing it to your eye. “Thanks—“ 

“Stay away from the Callahans, they’re bad news—“ Jake just shook his head in defeat. “And I don’t wanna know about your sex life either—“ He squinted at the thought, a bad image if there ever was one. “I’ve been called worse things than a Pussy—you don’t have to jump to my defence every time someone has something unkind to say.” Jake sighed, he hated seeing you like this. “But Lucas is lucky I don’t break his neck for doing this to you.” 

“Please—you couldn’t hit water if you fell out of a boat Jake.” As soon as you insulted him, Jake was pressing the towel he held against your eye into you a little more. “Ow! Fuck alright alright—“ You whined out playfully. “It was just a date, after he turned out to be a dickhead though there’s not going to be another one that’s for sure.” 

You were in this weird transition phase of your life. You were at a crossroads so to speak, killing time at Concordia on a scholarship you’d managed to get your hands on after pulling your thumb out just in time. Jake was there to keep you on the straight and narrow, he always had been—but that didn’t mean you didn’t try your luck at corrupting him from time to time. Succeeding plenty, failing some. 

You were waiting for your Naval Academy Application to be approved, as was Jake Seresin—but instead of college he took a gap year. Earning a living working at the local loading dock until his papers were approved. 

“If it’s a date you’re looking for I know a guy.” Jake should have stopped talking then and there, but he didn’t. He kept going. “He’s just some guy I played football with in senior year.” 

“God it’s not Alex Ryan is it?” You groaned, squinting as Jake took the towel away from your eye. Deciding you needed to sit down to save the bout of dizziness starting to set in from the head rush. 

“Jaidyn Dolan—he’s a decent guy, should keep you entertained long enough to keep you out of trouble, if I’m lucky.” Jake watched as you sat on the corner of his bed—hesitant to make yourselves at home because his mother was down stairs and she couldn’t stand the sight of you. Hence the not so graceful way you scaled up the side of Jake Seresin house, using the pipe that ran up the side near his window. You knew why she didn't like you, but that fact didn't make it any easier of a pill to swallow. Especially since she’d been the closest thing you ever had to a mother. 

“Please, don't pretend that you didn’t get an erection the second I told you I defended your honour.” You knew you were right as Jake moved a hand to cover his boxer brief clad erection that was as noticeable as ever. 

“Oh I did, and I’m gonna be pitching a fucking tent for the rest of the night thinking about how you decked Ethan Callahan.” Jake laughed, watching as you crawled into his bed. The only place you felt safe enough to actually rest. “Still doesn’t mean it was worth it.” 

Jake crawled into his bed behind you, like he’d done effortlessly time and time before. He loved you so much. But not the way everyone thought he loved you. It wasn’t just surface level the way Jake Seresin loved you. He loved you on a deeper level. Fiercely and protectively and you loved him back just as fiercely and just as tenderly. 

“Nah, fuck that—“ You mumbled, feeling Jake pull you tight and pull you close as his chin dropped into the groove your shoulder and neck. “You’re worth it—“ Correcting Jake, you let yourself close your eyes and relax. “You’re my best friend, I’d do just about anything to protect you, including but not limited to smacking a dickhead for calling you a pussy.” 

There was silence for a moment as you and Jake listened to the seconds ticking by from the analog clock sitting on Jake’s bedside table. He questioned for a few minutes if he really wanted to set you up with his highschool pal. But he just wanted you to be happy. You deserved to be happy, you didn’t deserve the Ethan and Lucas Callahans of the world. 

“Did you want me to set up something with Jaidyn?” Jake asked as he felt your body softening against his, knowing that you’d be gone before he woke up when the sun started to creep into his room. “Can text him tomorrow and organise a meet cute if you want.” Jakes met with silence, for a while he thinks you’ve already succumbed to the chokehold that his bed brings, that his warmth holds, that you’ve finally given in and gone to sleep after not being able to sleep in your dorm. 

“If he’s someone you think I should meet.” You mumbled back. “Can’t imagine it would be the worst thing in the world.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jaidyn was a gambler. He had been all his life. He started out betting on football matches, fixing scores and rigging games. He bet on horses and cars and as soon as he could step foot inside one he spent hundreds at casinos if given the chance. He was an addict, addicted to adrenaline, the rush of endorphins. Constantly looking for his next hit. He got that rush from alcohol, from flying F-18’s, from hitting you until he broke you. Jaidyn never intended to become what he had—a monster, a man who prayed on the fear he inflicted on you. But it was his favourite drug of all. 

Jaidyn’s favourite thing to bet on was you. He’d make bets with himself and his buddies that knew how he was to see just how much you could handle. He hadn’t managed to kill you yet after all these years but he damn well knew he’d been close. Especially that one time when he’d given you alcohol poisoning. He lost the bet that night when he’d come home to an empty AirBnB. And if there was something that set a gambler off more than anything it was losing a bet they for sure thought they were going to win. 

“I'm off boys—“ Jaidyn shoved his flight suit into his locker as Fanboy and Payback stood idly by, not wanting to start up a conversation with the guy who everyone knew was bad news. “See you both when I’m looking at ya.” Payback couldn’t not ask though, before he knew how to stop himself he was asking, coping a hand to the chest from Fanboy who just side eyed him for engaging. They’d been told not to engage! 

“Where you heading man?” Jaidyn just smirked to himself, oh how he loved winning. And won he had. “Little before five o’clock, must be something important to earn yourself an early mark?” 

“Im off to see a sweet little lady—“ Was all he said. Cryptic enough to have both Fanboy and Payback frowning, yet not deep enough to have them stumbling over their own two feet to notify someone. “See you boys tomorrow.” As casually as ever, Jaidyn left the locker room. Making his way down the hall and chuckling a right to make his way to the Janitor’s closet he’d left you in hours ago. Laughing to himself when he’d realised he’d gotten away with murder. Deciding he’d wasted enough time—heading out towards the car park to collect his little girl.

But not before he’d managed to cut Bradley Bradshaw's throttle cable. He wasn’t going anywhere without knowing the fact that the next flight Rooster took?

would be his last. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Hours. Hours upon hours had passed you by. That’s what it felt like anyway when you came to. Groaning as the sudden onset of swollen muscles and aching joints overcame you. 

The sun had moved. There was barely any natural sunlight shining through the janitor's closet as you laid in a heap on the floor amongst random objects that had fallen off the shelves you’d been slammed into. Disinfectant, mop heads, rolls of black and white garbage bags, multicoloured buckets of different kinds of chemicals. 

All you could do was cry. There was nothing left for you to do as the idea of Jaidyn setting out to do exactly what he’d told you he would eventually do overwhelmed your mind. He was gonna take your little girl away from you, no matter how hard you tried or what you did to keep him away, he inevitably won. Exactly like he told you he would. 

Jake didn’t mean to lie. You knew that much, but Jaidyn Dolan was a dangerous dangerous man with no moral compass—you should have run when you had the chance. You should have taken Odette and left North Island behind. But now here you were—beaten half to death in the place of your employment, lying on the floor of a janitor's closet tied and bound. You didn’t want to die here. Not like this, not with any shred of dignity left. 

So, with all the strength you could muster and with all the might you had—you pushed yourself up onto your knees, whaled out as you stretched and felt your rips pressing into your lungs. Squinting away the tears you were tired of spilling before you shimmied your way over to the door. Allowing yourself to catch your pained breath as you sat against it. Using all the strength you had left to do the only thing you could think of to grab someone, anyone’s attention that might be waking by. 

You sat and cried and banged your head against the door of the janitor’s closet. From the hallway. All that could be heard every few seconds was a faint thud. Barely audible, but it was there. 

A faint but steady and determined thud.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I've got one more hop, then I'm finished–'' Jake was exhausted, between actually trying to get some work done and yelling at his Admiral to pull his thumb out, Jake had spent the better half of his day searching for where you might have gone. With every hour that passed, with every second that went by in the blink of an eye, Jake's worry had begun to skyrocket to highest uncharted. “You still haven't heard from her?” Jake asked as he met back up with Bradley in your hanger, still as untouched as it had been from the moment you had come running out of it with Bob earlier that same day. 

“I thought maybe she was just avoiding me.” Bradley sighed as he looked around your hanger, focusing on all the pictures that you had pinned up on your cork board. “At the risk of sounding like an eighth grader, she dumped me.” Bradley's lip twitched as he spoke that fact into existence. His eyes never left the photo of the two of you embracing one another at the Hard Deck as he spoke. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour as to where you could be. “She could have left? Gone and got Dot?” For the least logical explanation, it was still the most believable. “I mean if she was still on base Hangman, we would have caught up with her by now.” 

“I'm gonna ring her again.” Jake grumbles out, he's been trying your phone periodically throughout the day ever since you left Admiral Simpsons office. Each text was left unresponded to yet delivered. Every call was met with your voicemail. Unbeknownst to Jake, Jaidyn had taken your phone and thrown it in the garbage. “I'm starting to think she’d just vanished off the face of the earth. Before Jake was able to press on your contact, a stupid photo of you with two cheese puffs shoved up your nose from highschool, there's a caller ID flashing across his screen that he isn't sure if he should answer right this second in the midst of what feels like a missing persons case. “Uh–” Jake's lips curled upright into a smirk that Bradley hardly caught before theses a hume spreading across his cheeks, bashfully. “I should probably take this.” 

“Who's Amilia?” Bradley leaned over to investigate what, or more appropriately, who, had Jake suddenly looking like a kid who's just had his cheeks pinched too hard by his grandma. 

“The girl from the station–” Is all Jake is explaining before he's swiping his thumb across his screen and holding his phone up to his ear, watching as Braldey rolls his eyes. Of course even in the middle of an impending crisis, Jake Seresin is still picking up. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Amilia Fisher was lost. She felt like she was going nowhere in her life. She had spiralled so deep into an existential crisis she didn’t know how to pull herself out of it. A Personal Trainer turned Personal Tragedy. 

Most days were good, some were mediocre at best—and others? Well, some days she couldn’t find the energy to pull herself up and out of bed. Which quite frankly sucked ass because when people look at you like you had your head screwed on straight and knew all the answers to all their burning questions, it’s hard to accept the reality staring at you in the mirror. 

She’d been sucked in and spat out by an industry that thrived off insecurities and eating disorders disguised as clean eating meal plans that don’t inherently cause unhealthy relationships with food—but gave you all the means to develop those tendencies yourself. 

She was lost, but as she sat in the carpark of her nephews day care centre, Amilia collected herself with a deep inhale and a prolonged exhale. In through the nose and out through the mouth. 

“She’ll be right.” Amilia mumbled to herself as she unclipped her seatbelt, stepping out of her sister's car she’d been borrowing while playing baby driver. Her sister Chelsea had married some Naval Aviator who she’d met while travelling the states on a solo trip a few years back. They were young and in love and although a few years had passed they were still happily married and very much in love. Reuben was good people. That much she knew, and while Amilia tried to hold her life together she decided a sea change (Or entire career change in another country) would help fight off the ever looming threat of war that raged between her critical thinking skills and her intrusive thoughts.

Amilia Fisher had the emotional integrity of a limp noodle at the crossroads point she’d reached in her life. The last thing she needed while she was just trying to pick her nephew Chase up, was to run into the very man she’d seen in the car park earlier that same day—instigating an altercation for reasons she knew nothing about. 

“Hi, my name’s Jaidyn?” The man who stood before her told the receptionist at Sunny Side who he was. “I’m here for my little girl? Odette.” Amilia swore time slowed down as she quickly turned on her heels, knowing that whoever this man was he shouldn’t have been back at the daycare. 

“Uh—okay, fuck, okay.” Amilia knew it was probably just a little crazy to care, but she just had a feeling this wasn’t good. That something was wrong. Maternal instincts be damned, anyone with two eyes and a heartbeat could see something was up. So with a small amount of reluctance and a whole lot of self doubt—Amilia pressed on the contact that had been freshly added to her contact list that morning. 

Hangman

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Miss Fisher–” Jake smiles for what feels like the first time since he met Amilia that morning. Fuck, it had been a long day at this point hadnt it. “To what do I owe this incredibly unexpected call?” Fighting off the egre to flirt back, Amilia bit her bottom lip and reminded herself that this wasnt a selfish call, she could be selfish later and selfish with Jake she wanted to be because fuck–getting her rocks off with a Naval Aviator might just be what she needed to feel alive again. “Amilia?” 

“I could be wrong, so please just forget I ever called if I am but the guy who you beat the shit out of is here picking up a little girl named Odette and I just wanted you to know in case he wasn't meant to be here.” Bradley sees all the colour in Jake's face immediately drain and he knows something’s wrong. 

“Wait, hold on, what do you mean?” It's like his brain won't process what Amilia is trying to tell him. “You’re at Sunny Side?” 

“Yeah, I'm picking up my nephew, that guy is in at reception now–said he was there to pick up his little girl?” Jake feels his heart stop, he can't breathe. “Jake?” 

“I need you to do me a favour.” Jake Seresin wasn't a beggar, but he was about to drop to his knees and plead with Amilia to run an intervention. “Please don't let him leave with her.” 

“What do you want me to do?” Amilia asks as she watches one of the early educators walk through the doors into the day care to go collect Odette. Time was ticking, she had to think fast. 

“Whatever you can, Amilia, look–” Jakes still looking at Bradley who is putting bits and pieces of the puzzle together just by what he can hear. “I know you don't know me but I need you to keep him there until I can get there.” Jakes met with silence as Amilia looked over to the car she recognised from that same morning, tossing up the options her borderline manic mind was thinking could work. “Amilia?”  

“I'm on it.” Amilia shakes herself out of a trance-like state. She's committed to her next move, racing back to her sister's car to pop the boot and rummage through the craziest survival kit she’s ever seen. Making a mental note to see if her sister needed a psych evaluation too or if she just thoroughly enjoyed camping a little too much. “Just, get here before I get arrested.” 

When Jake hung up his phone all he could see was red. His heart rate was beyond fast, his hands were clammy and he swore for a moment he might actually be having a heart attack as he held two fingers up to his neck to check his pulse. 

“He's gone for Dot hasn't he.” Bradley knows the answer, he didn't even need to ask. But he did regardless and when Jake nodded in response with tears welling in his eyes, Bradley knew they were racing against time. “Fe–” 

“Would you want us to put Dot first, Rooster– without question.” Jake cuts Bradley off before he can finish his sentence. “Odette comes first, end of story.” Bradley can't find it in himself to stop looking for you though, he knows if Dot is still in daycare then you've been here this entire time. 

“You go.” Bradley could practically hear your SOS as he stood in the silence of your workshop with Jake. Your brother, the closest thing you had to family. Bradley would send out an army to find you, but he’d be leading the troops. “You go get Dot, I'll stay here and keep looking.” Jake groaned, he couldn't think straight, to him his mind was misconstruing the fact Bradley wanted to stay meant he didn't care enough. 

“Yeah–” Scoffing, Jake shook his head. “Right, I get it, not your daughter, not your problem right?” There was no beating around the bush when it came to the fact tensions were at an all time high. “Great man, nah dont fucking sweat it ill take care of it.” But that didn't mean Bradley was going to take that, not when he'd stuck by you thought all of this. 

“I'm not gonna leave Y/n behind.” Rooster shot back, it was far too quick of a retaliation for Jake to not realise that that thought must have been prevalent in Bradley's mind. He'd just been waiting for a moment to throw it in his face. Jake just took the hit, he turned on his heels and took a few strides before Bradley dug the knife a little deeper, watching as Jake paused to soak up the blow he knew was true. He knew every word Bradley spoke was true, he’d left you behind before and he was about to do it again–only this time he knew you’d want him to. You'd want him to make sure Odette didn't end up with the monster that was Jaidyn. So he took it, he could take it, Jake deserved the title of deserter, because he was one. But he’d be damned if Jaidyn was going to get a hold of Dot. Knowing the lengths you’d go to to protect her yourself. 

“I'll leave that to you man.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake held your hand the entire time you were in active labour. He was with you from the very beginning all the way through till the moment Odette Dolan let out her first cries into the universe. As you sat bound and bloodied, thumping your head against the door of the janitor's closet, your mind had begun to wonder. Although you knew that there was a chance here that someone would find you after it was too late, you also knew in that case that Jake would be the most fearsome protector of your little girl if something were to happen to you. He was her godfather, her guardian if something happened to you. You’d made sure of that when you realised how deep you were woven into your mess with Jaidyn. How dangerous and how much effort it was going to take to break free. 

“Bringing life into this world's like bringing a grain of sand to the beach but— the thing is Fe, that your little girl's like ten point five grams of you and him love.” Jake cooed as he sat beside you, pushing your hair from your sweat covered forehead as you held your daughter to your chest for the first time. “She’s perfect.” As if the memory of when you’d given birth to Odette was playing out like a rolodex being flipped through, you closed your eyes and mumbled out from behind the makeshift gag shoved in your mouth. Remembering what you’d told Jake as you laid with Dot for the first time. Taking in all she was and who she’d grow up to be. 

“I’d die for her.” 

“Everything from your past is passed on.” Jake spoke softly, tracing his index finger over her back. “It survives, it's alive in your daughter.” Everything that made you, you, made Odette her. “You ever think there's a link when we pass on? She might pass on five and a quarter.”  Day dreaming of that memory free as a bird, you were just trying to focus when the scenery blurs. You collapsed to the floor, rendered unconscious from the pain flooding your body. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bradley was kicking himself as he searched around the graveyard. A nickname they’d all given to the section of the tarmac that they used to harbour old fighter jets that were decommissioned for various reasons. It’s where the old F-14 Maverick had stolen to get him and Rooster the hell out of dodge ended up—until it found its new home in one of your bays, you’d been restoring it back to its once pristine condition. Admiral Simpson was quite eager to see what magic you could work. 

“Where the fuck are you Fe?” Rooster sighed to himself as he looked around, kicking himself for what he’d said to Jake. He didn’t mean it. Jake was just doing what he thought you’d want him to do, what he knew you’d want him to do. But someone had to be there for you for once in your fucking life. Someone had to put you first, above anyone else. 

“Come on Y/n, you’ve gotta be around here somewhere—“ He was growing desperate. So desperate in fact that his heart ached in his chest. Something was fucking wrong here. “Fuck this.” Bradley hissed when he realised you weren't pulling organs from old super hornets for part transplants. Deciding he needed to tell Cyclone that you’d been missing for the better half of the day and that something needed to be done to find you. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~

The more Admiral Simpson sat on the events that transpired in his office earlier, the more he caught himself wondering if he’d done the wrong thing. He was just following protocol when he’d asked for evidence more than he said she said. He couldn’t castrate a member of the US Navy on the basis of accusation. 

What he could do however, was do what he’d promised he would and check out the footage that Lieutenant Floyd mentioned would have been taken from your hanger. 

“Okay—“ Beau sighed as he sat down at his desk. “Let’s see what we’re working with here.” He mumbled to himself as he brought his coffee cup up to his lips, logging into Net2 to comb through the list of security cameras on base. 

Clicking through the squares, there was nothing unusual happening in real time that caught Admiral Simpson's attention, just being a little noisy before he went back through the logs cost him though as he clicked next in the visible camera listings that appeared on his screen. 

“Oh my god.” Admiral Simpson spat the sip of coffee he’d just taken all over himself as he came across the live feed of the janitor's closet camera that sat in the top right hand corner of his screen. Clicking on it, it enlarged the view he saw of you. Laying tied and unconscious on the floor. “Oh my god—“ He was up in seconds, racing out of his office as face as he could, running into Bradley Bradshaw who was just about to knock on the Admirals office door and beg him to help him in his search for you. 

“Sir—“ 

“Bradshaw—“ 

“I need your help looking for Fe, she’s missing.” Bradley explained, he’d never felt so defeated. “I’m worried—“ 

“I know where she is.” Cyclone replied, nodding frantically as he physically turned Rooster on his heels and shoved him down the hall. “Go, go! Janitors closet down the hall to the right.” Bradley tried his best to catch up with what was going on—but even felt like it was moving a thousand miles an hour and he was frozen in place. “Saw her on the goddamn camera when I went to look back at the hanger footage from earlier.” Cyclone couldn’t believe what was happening, he felt responsible for this especially, he should have taken Rooster and Hangmans desperation as enough evidence to pull Jaidyn up. 

But he didn’t and that was on him. 

Bradley had never moved so quickly before in his life. The second Admiral Simpson opened the closet door and he saw you? He felt an unimaginable amount of rage rushing through his veins. 

“Y/n!” Bradley gasped as he pushed past Cyclone and dropped to his knees, pulling you up into his lap. “Baby I’m here, hey I’m here darling oh my god I’m so sorry—hey, hey?”

“I’ll get Cindy from the infirmary to—“ Admiral Simpson didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as he stood there and watched Bradley cradle you in his arms. 

“YOUSONOFABITCH—'' It all came out as one word as Rooster let his rage run wild, aiming it directly at Beau Simpson who just stood there shell shocked. He was a three star Admiral, he’d seen a lot. But this? This was by far the worst thing he’d bore witness to. “She sat right in front of you! You saw she was in trouble and you let him walk out of your office scott fucking free!” 

“Lieutenant—“ 

“Don’t lieutenant me!” Bradley spat. “LOOK AT HER! Look at what he did to her!” As Bradley’s rage consumed every morsel of his being, your eyelids twitched as you stirred back to reality. “This!? Is on you—Sir, you could have prevented this but you didn’t. do. enough!!” 

“MMM!” Too incoherent and too dazed to register it was Bradley holding you, you started thrashing around in his grip, trying to protect yourself from whatever blow was about to come your way. “MMM—MMM!!” All Bradley's attention was drawn back to you as he held you tighter, his heart sank into his stomach when he heard your screams turn to painful sobs. 

“I’m here, hey it’s me, I’m here, I got you.” Bradley cried with you, he couldn’t keep it in, couldn’t be as strong as you needed him to be because seeing you like this shattered his heart beyond repair. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere baby, I’m here.” 

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry—“ Rooster tried his best to peel the duct tape from your mouth without hurting you, but he knew it was best to rip the Band-Aid off so it was over with fast. “I’m sorry—“ He cried one more time before ripping it from your mouth, pulling the fabric soaked in saliva and blood from your mouth as you screamed as loud as you could. 

It broke Roosters heart. 

“Y/n, I’ve got you.” 

“Jaidyns gonna take Dot.” It was so hard to hear you cry the way you were crying as Braldey worked to untie your hands from behind your back. He headed the way the bracket he had given you made a hash indent from from the pressure. 

“Jakes on it.” Is all Bradley cooed as he caught his own tears falling from his face down onto yours. “Jakes on it, he’s gone to grab her.”

“He made me authorise him as a pick up—“ It came out through painful cries as Braldey just held you and rocked you as tight as he could. “Said he’d kill me.” 

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, you hear me?” Rooster kissed the top of your head as you both sat on the ground of the janitor’s closet. Cyclone had made good on his word and gone to the infirmary. “Never letting you go baby, you don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve this at all.”

“I need to get to my daughter.” You replied, sitting up as Bradley helped up, reaching down to untie your ankles with a groan as your ribs caved in against your lungs. “Aahh!!—“ 

“I need to get you to a hospital Fe, you’re hurt, bad.” 

“No.” You mumbled, trying to stand although every attempt you stumbled back and fell back into Bradley's chest. “No, I'm fine, I just need to get to Dot.” The way you couldn't stop for a second to really process what had happened had Rooster frowning, you needed medical attention, you were hurt, bad, and there could be things wrong he couldn't see. Internal bleeding was one thing on his mind. “I need to get to my baby.” 

“Hey Y/n?” You weren't listening as Rooster tried to break through to you. “Darling, listen to me alright?” He begged, reaching out to touch the side of your face as gently as he could to turn your head to look at him. Noticing how broken your eyes looked through the swelling. “What Dot needs is for you to be alright, and for you to be alright I need to take you to a hospital to get checked out.” Your bottom lip quivered as you shook your head. Kneeling between Roosters legs as he sat on the ground before you. “Baby you gotta put yourself first this time, you've done all you can here.” 

“I was banging my head on the door trying to make enough noise.” Deflecting from the question, you explained that although you wanted to give up, you didn't. “I didn't just give up, I’m not weak–” 

“I would never think you're weak Y/n, you’re the strongest person I know.” It was hard to see you like this, so broken and fragile, flinching at every move Bradleey made. He understood though, you had always been a stray, now more so than ever before. Memories of your past with Jaidyn plagued your mind every time you blinked. You could hear him screaming at you inside your own head, trying to drown out all the kind, meaningful praises Bradley spoke into existence. “You are not weak, you did whatever you could to protect your daughter Y/n.” 

Bradley helped you stand, listening to every groan and every sob that escaped your mouth as he did so, knowing he needed to get you up so he could at least carry you out. But as you stood and turned into him, wrapping your arms around his torso before burying your swollen, bloodied and bruised face into his shoulder, Bradley thought his heart couldn't break any more than it already had. But then you spoke again and broke his heart even more. 

“I didn't do enough though–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be  @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014  @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde  @americaarse @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising @caidi-paris @starkleila @criticalroleobssedperson @enchantingdreamergothprune @flrboyd

[choke-me-joey]

For @quinnyfairy Secret Santa Event...surprise @quinnyfairy I’m your secret santa!

Prompt is 'Freezing fingers' from @creativepromptsforwriting

Joseph Quinn x reader

Content warning: rpf (don't like don't read), swearing, a lil fluffy, a lil smutty

It's a Saturday morning in December, and Joe is home for Christmas. After months of being in different countries for weeks, sometimes even months at a time, he was finally home for a solid few weeks at least. Which meant lazy weekend lie-ins and cuddles in bed until whatever the hell time you felt like.

You wake up before him, unsurprisingly. The jet lag and general insanity of the last few weeks had caught up with him and he'd finally conked out at 2am. He was snoring softly, laid on his back with one arm flung over his face. You roll over and snuggle into him, and even in his sleep he holds you close, turning his face to rest on top of your head. You glimpse at the clock on his bedside table and it reads 9am. You yawn and settle back down, allowing your eyes to slip shut once more.

The next thing you know, Joe is kissing your head softly.

"Mm?" You grumble, cracking one eye open. He's out of bed and dressed, bundled up in his jeans and jumper with his thick winter coat on. He smiles at you.

"Morning, beautiful. We're out of teabags so I'm just gonna nip to the shop and grab some, okay?" Joe says softly, stroking a hand over your hair.

"Mm, I'll go," you say, voice thick with sleep as you sit up and stretch. "Get back into bed."

Joe captures your lips in another soft kiss.

"Shh, lie back down, okay? It's snowing and I know you're like Bambi on ice in the snow, so it'll be quicker for me to go. It's only round the corner, I won't be long."

"You'll come back to bed after?" You ask, settling back down into the warm duvet, on his side of the bed.

"I'll come back to bed after, with tea." He smiles and you nod, pulling him down to youfor another kiss. This one is deeper, longer, and you hope he gets the message behind it. He does after you nibble at his bottom lip. "Oh, I'll definitely come back to bed after. The tea might have to wait."

"Fine by me," you smile. He pecks your lips for a final time before leaving the bedroom. "Oh, babe, we need milk too. And bread. And toilet paper."

Joe sticks his head back into the bedroom, a cheeky grin across his face.

"Want me to just drive to Tesco and do a grocery shop while I'm at it, yeah?"

"Shut up, I was supposed to go yesterday but you had other plans." You smile throwing his pyjama shirt at him.

"And those other plans were so much better than going to Tesco." He winks, before disappearing into the hallway. A few moments later, you hear the flat door open and close, and you get comfy in the bed, scrolling through Instagram on your phone, occasionally watching the snow falling outside your bedroom window.

Joe returns about 25 minutes later and you hear him bashing his boots against the wall outside your flat door to get rid of excess snow before opening the door. By the time he comes back into the bedroom, he's dressed only in a tshirt and boxers, having discarded the rest of his clothes somewhere in the flat, probably the living room. You giggle as he stands at the bottom of the bed and peels his shirt off, pinging it at you. You throw it back at him, making him laugh.

"Oi, cheeky." He tuts in a mock scold. You roll your eyes playfully. You throw the duvet off yourself, and he jumps back into bed practically on top of you, and once you pull the duvet back over you both, his mouth finds yours in a deep, eager kiss. His lips are cold but they quickly warm against your own.

"Pants off, Quinn." You mumble, skating your fingernails up and down the muscles in his back.

"You too, Y/L/N," he retorts before kissing you again, and you each manage to shuffle out of your underwear without breaking the kiss. His hand reaches between your legs and swipes up your pussy, the bitter cold of his fingers making you shriek.

"Jesus, Joe! Your fucking fingers are freezing!" You flinch and dig your nails into his back, making him laugh loudly.

"Ow, fuck, ow! Okay okay, I'm sorry!" Joe laughs, grabbing your hands as you both crease. Once you've calmed your giggles, he leans in to kiss you, mumbling against your lips "I know how I can warm them up though, yeah?"

His fingers come down to your pussy once more, and you hiss but don't claw him this time. He finally presses his soft lips to yours as he pushes a finger into you. It's cold at first but that only adds to the sensation, and you moan softly. "Better?"

"More," you keen, arching into him. He slips another finger inside you, crooking them to stroke your G-spot. You reciprocate by wrapping your hand around his cock and stroking him, lubricating his shaft with some of your arousal and some of the precum that had escaped the slit of his cock.

It's not rushed; the two of you lay there, mouths moving lazily against each other, using your hands on one another. Joe's thumb brushes over your clit and you sharply inhale.

"Still fucking cold."

[blueraineshadows]

Your ‘Wedding Night’ fic is one of the best things I’ve ever read 🫶🏼 I was wondering if a Part 2 has crossed your mind? I don’t feel like there is enough Seb x MC stuff after Hogwarts and it would be great to capture them at this time 🥰❤️

Thank you so much 🥺💜 I'm so happy how well Wedding Night has been received and would love to write a bit more. I hope this okay, plenty of soft Seb in this one 💚

Sebastian woke to the first pale light of dawn. He blinked a few times and looked down at the warmth of his wife's body pressed against him, her head was nestled near his shoulder, her glorious hair spread across the pillow behind her.

His eyes worshipped the fan of her lashes on her cheeks, the delicate curve of her jaw beneath her ear, and a smirk slowly spread across his lips as he admired the bloom of red marks at the curve of her neck. He couldn't get enough of the little sounds she would make when he sucked her there. He felt the blood rushing to his cock and lifted the edge of the blanket, peeking beneath to admire the soft curves and dips of his wife's body. After six months of marriage, he was still hungry for her, hating any minute spent away from her. It was still a mystery to him how his luck had sent her his way. Without her he would be dead, or worse, he knew it in his bones.

She looked so peaceful in her sleep, but his mouth had other ideas. He caught her earlobe in his teeth and tugged, a hand swirling over a hip to cup her backside. He loved the sight of her arse in those tight little duelling trousers she wore, but he liked it even better naked and in his hands. He gave it a squeeze, urging her closer so that she nudged against his growing arousal. She sighed and shifted, her breasts moving against his chest. He gave a little moan of appreciation, they were next on his kiss list.

She opened one sleepy eye at him. "And what do you think you are doing Mr Sallow?"

He smirked and lifted her thigh to wrap her leg about him. He rubbed his nose against hers, lips searching out lips for soft kisses. "I missed you," he whispered against her mouth.

She half sighed, half chuckled. "I am right here, you know," she protested. Her eyes blinked sleepily towards the window. "Its only just dawn, too, and you kept me up so late."

"I definitely heard no complaints at the time." He bit her lower lip, rolling their bodies so he was above her, grinding his hips luxuriously against her. Her legs welcomed him, her foot sliding down the back of his leg. "Besides, I promised you a whole day of my undivided attention."

She braced a hand against his shoulder with full intentions of shoving her husband off and returning to her sleep, but his kisses had always been the most devilish distraction. MC found herself moaning against his tongue, lifting her hips to welcome the familiar push of his hardness as he filled her to the hilt. She moaned, a spark of devilment making her lips twist into a teasing smirk. "Fuck me," she demanded in a low voice. He loved it when she talked dirty.

It escalated quickly, his thrusts deep and forceful, fingers digging into flesh as they climbed to the peak. MC flung up her arm, her hand braced against the headboard as he pounded, relentless, his eyes hooded and full of fire. He was not holding back. His name burst from her lips in a cry, her eyes widening as her release crashed over her, but there was no respite. She gasped as he shifted, grasping her hips to lift them, fucking her harder, the sounds tearing from his throat were pure animal as he found his own release, collapsing over her, dragging air into his lungs in harsh breaths. She could feel the hammering of his heart where their chests were crushed together. She held him to her, smoothing her hands along his back, waiting for him to speak. Her own heart thumped at the intensity of their desire.

He shifted, lifting himself to kiss her softly. "You drive me crazy, Mrs Sallow."

She smiled, shuffling out from under him, her hands coming up to her breast with a slight wince. Immediately, Sebastian sat up and cupped her face, concern marring his brow. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, of course not," she assured him. She touched her breast again. "Its nothing, just a little tenderness."

His frown remained. "Is it your time to bleed?"

Her gaze softened and she pressed a kiss to his mouth, appreciative of his unfailing care of her. "I am fine, I promise. Although, I do need to visit the bathroom. When I come back you can tell me of your plans for our day together."

He looked unconvinced, reluctant to let her go as she slid from the bed and walked to the bathroom.

Wrapped in coats and scarves, Sebastian held MC's hand as they strolled along the Thames River bank near the ancient Tower. Sebastian looked across at the impressive structure of Tower Bridge. "Its quite something, isn't it?"

MC snuggled against him in the morning chill. "Yes, and no. Nothing will ever compare to Hogwarts in my eyes. I will never forget the first time that I saw it, magnificent against the sky. I had no idea just how much was in store for me."

"So many memories of our time there," he said. He kissed her forehead, frowning in thought. "You know, I'm feeling a little nostalgic."

"You are?" She gave him a curious smile.

"Ive got an idea," he said grinning.

He dragged her to the nearest Floo network portal and, giggling like children, they spirited off to the beautiful landscape of the Scottish Highlands. Hogsmeade, to be exact. Arm in arm, they strolled the cobbled streets they knew so well, bought sugary treats in Honeydukes, and ended up in the Three Broomsticks. They sat at their table, their hands entwined on top of his thigh, sipping at their Butterbeers.

"Its good to see you both," Sirona said. "How is married life treating you?"

They exchanged a look, the kind that two people deeply in love share, intimate secrets in their eyes that only they understood.

"Actually, dont answer that," Sirona said with a grin. "Its written plain as day on your faces, and I for one, am happy to see it. I remember the day you both burst in here after the troll attack, and I could see the spark between you even then. It did not surprise me when you finally married."

They ate at the Three Broomsticks, catching up some more with Sirona, before heading back out, wandering their way down the familiar path towards Hogwarts. MC sighed with pleasure at the sight, the sky clear in the brisk air, no smog or bustling city life to distract from the beauty.

"I remember every moment you know," he said. "Every adventure, every time you knocked me on my arse in Crossed Wands."

She giggled. "Sneaking out at night to the kitchens or the library," she added. She gripped his arm tighter. "We used to take so many risks."

"It was worth it though, right?" He paused to look down at her. "No regrets?"

She thought for a moment. "There are some darker memories, of course. It wasn't always perfect, but I have no regrets." She took hold of his upper arms, the breeze sending tendrils of hair across her face. She looked up at him, her love. "Every moment brought me closer to you, without the dark we would have never found our light. I remember our first kiss, in that very castle, I remember telling our friends that we were courting and how supportive they were. So many beautiful memories and all of them have you by my side. How could I regret any of that?"

Sebastian's eyes had turned glassy as she spoke, he swallowed, his face thoughtful as he gazed across towards the castle. His voice was raw when he next spoke. "Are you happy in London, MC?"

"I'm happy to be wherever you are," she said immediately.

A smile ghosted across his lips but he remained serious. "I mean, is it the right place for us? The way you speak of this place, it sounds like home. Earlier, in Hogsmeade, it just felt right, nothing like London. It just felt like..."

"Home," she said softly. She gazed at the castle now and smiled softly. "Hogwarts was the first time I felt truly accepted as me, and it brought me to you. It has given me so much to be thankful for."

Sebastian held her face in his hands, the pad of his thumb sweeping across her cheek. "You look tired of late," he said. Worry shadowed his face. "Just last week you felt unwell, you were so pale. You have been different, and then this morning you said you felt tender. Are you in pain?"

She could see the fear creeping into his eyes, memories, dark memories of when Anne had been so sick. A lump formed in her throat. How could she have thought that he would not notice these things about her? He had always been so protective, so attentive.

" Oh Sebastian, please, do not fear. I am not in pain, I promise you, in fact, far from it." She reached into her enchanted bag, rummaging about until she found a small package wrapped in brown paper, a silk, green ribbon tied about it. "I have been waiting to give you this, I was saving it for a special moment, but perhaps here where it all began for us is the perfect place."

She held out the box and he noted the tremble in her fingers. His stomach clenched as he took it, the worry refusing to leave. He stared at the cute package wondering what she had given him. At her urging, he tugged the ribbon free and tore at the paper. A smooth white box with a lid was inside, and when he lifted the lid, white tissue paper covered the gift. She bit her lower lip as he pushed aside the tissue paper, her eyes fixed on his face to see his reaction.

He frowned in confusion, his fingers hesitating to pick up what lay nestled in the tissue paper. MC held her breath, hands clasped tightly together. "What..." He stopped speaking, fingers lifting out the little bonnet in deepest green velvet, so soft and delicate. Beneath it in the box were a matching pair of little booties, a silver snake embroidered on the tops of each one. His eyes lifted to hers, wide, not daring to believe what he held in his hand. Surely his heart had stopped, there was no air to breathe. All that existed in that moment were her beautiful, beautiful eyes, and an infant's hat and booties in Slytherin colours. His lips parted but nothing came out. He tried again, but clearly, for the first time in his life he was rendered speechless.

MC placed her hands over her stomach. "Baby Sallow is due to be with us come Autumn," she said softly. "I have seen a doctor and he was happy with me, with us." She caressed her stomach with loving hands.

A shaky breath managed to escape Sebastian's lips. He hadn't moved. MC's bottom lip trembled and she brought her hands to his face, her fingers wiping tears from his cheeks that he hadn't even realised were falling. "You're...you're pregnant?"

She nodded. "I am."

He reached for her, crushing her to him and burying his face into her neck as he lifted her off her feet, the gift box and bonnet gripped tightly in his fingers at her back. A sob escaped him and she held him, stroking his hair, his back. "Are you alright?"

"There are no words," he said into her neck. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts."

He placed her gently back on his feet and moved back to stare at her stomach, a trembling hand reaching to press carefully against it. "I love both of you."

That night, they lay in each other's arms, hands exploring skin with gentle strokes and soft kisses. He held her so gently, his fingers constantly straying to where their child grew within her. He pressed his nose gently below her navel, light kisses peppering the skin. "I want our child to grow up knowing where he or she belongs, MC," he said. "They will have us, of course, but more than that, I want them to have what we missed out on."

"What do you mean?"

He moved to look into her eyes. "Let's go home, to Scotland. We can live there, near Hogwarts, near people who know us. Our child can grow there in clean air, free to be who they are away from this smog ridden, muggle life. What do you say?"

"I say, when do we leave?"

[lamaenthel]

Human Shield

[read on ao3][masterlist]Febuwhump prompt: human shield

Darman could smell rain on the wind that gently blew their bedroom curtains. The sun was just beginning to rise, clouds filtering the pink light into cold gray. He buried his face in Etain's hair and took a deep breath.

Characters: RC-1136|Darman Skirata/Etain Tur-Mukan

Wordcount: 876

Darman could smell rain on the wind that gently blew their bedroom curtains. The sun was just beginning to rise, clouds filtering the pink light into cold gray. He buried his face in Etain's hair and took a deep breath.

"Morning." She shifted uncomfortably. Her belly had officially reached massive status, though Darman would cut his leg off before saying it to her face. "Mm. Lemme just…" She flung a sleepy hand in the direction of the window, closing it with her Force powers.

Darman chuckled and kissed the back of her neck. "You could have just asked me to close it, you know."

"Why get up when I can…" She wiggled her fingers. 

Darman took another deep breath of her dewberry blonde hair; she insisted it was brown, as though she'd never seen her own hair in the afternoon light. Her shampoo smelled like sunshine and had some sort of cactus he didn't recognize on the front of the bottle. "I like doing things for you."

"I know you do." She struggled to turn over in his arms. "You don't have to wait on me, Dar. You're not subservient to me."

"I absolutely am." He kissed her neck, and ignored the scowl that popped up in favor of gently biting the thin skin over her pulse point. "I'm your riduur. You're carrying my child. I am subservient to you in every way imaginable, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You're incorrigible," she grumbled.

He laughed. "And how are you feeling this morning, ner Et'ika?"

Etain looked dolefully down at her giant stomach and sighed. "Enormous." 

Darman kept kissing her neck, considering it the smarter option over confirming her opinion. "Do you want a massage?" he mumbled into her skin.

"Maybe later." She caught his hand and guided it to her belly, smiling. "Do you feel your son?"

He nodded, his throat going tight. There was a fluttering pulse under his palm. "He's kicking," Darman said in awe.

"Yeah he is." Etain adjusted herself again and frowned at her big belly. Darman sympathized with her. He'd jumped out of more than one larty hauling more in equipment than what his runt of a wife weighed soaking wet and seven months pregnant.

"He's feisty. Like his mama." Darman kissed her cheek.

"He's a pain in my shebs like his daddy," Etain corrected him. 

"Oh, you know I love it when you speak Mando'a, ner cyar'ika." Darman said, nuzzling her neck. He blew a snozzberry in her throat and made her laugh. "Ner jet'ika, ner mesh'lane cyar'ika, gar dinui ner runi mirjahaal. Ni kartay'li gar darasuum."

"I love you too," she sighed, lacing their hands together over her stomach. "I'm sorry, Dar."

"About what?"

"That we never got to do this." She blinked her big, sad green eyes at him. "We deserved this, but we never had it."

"What are you talking about, Et'ika?" Darman sat up, confused.

Etain just looked at him patiently. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I…" Darman couldn't draw a full breath.

"It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong, my love."

"I…" Not my girl! Not my girl!

"Hey." Etain pulled his face close, pressed their foreheads together. "It was my fault. I've been using a lightsaber since I was four years old. I knew better than to try and stop one with my body."

"Then why did you?" Darman whispered, shaking. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't." She laughed softly. "I wasn't thinking, Dar. I acted on instinct and made a stupid, stupid mistake that cost me my life. I'm sorry you had to watch."

"I miss you." Darman squeezed his eyes shut. "I miss you so much, Etain. I wish you could see Kad. He's… he's like you. He needs you, but he doesn't have you."

"Lucky for him, he has the best dad in the whole galaxy." She kissed his fingers. "I love you, Dar. I will always love you. Ni kartay'li gar darasuum, ner riduur." 

"Etain," Darman said frantically, "Etain, wait—"

"Daddy?"

Darman shot up, instantly awake. He'd never lost that ability, even though it'd been four years since he'd seen active combat. The smell of Etain's shampoo lingered in the air. "Kad?" He held out his arms to the silhouette in the doorway. It was early; the sun had just barely risen, the gray rainclouds above Kyrimorut bleaching the pink dawn into cold gray.

His son dove into his arms eagerly. "You okay, Daddy?" he asked, getting situated.

"Of course, ad'ika. Just a sad dream." Darman fluffed his son's dewberry-blond hair, the same as his mother's. "Let's get some breakfast. Daddy's hungry."

"Was it a mama dream?" Kad didn't seem eager to leave his arms.

Darman sighed. "Yeah. It was a mama dream."

"Well, that's okay then." Kad smiled. "That just means she misses you. That's what she says when I have mama dreams. She comes and sees me 'cause she misses me so much."

Darman didn't want to cry in front of his son, but it was a damn close call. He forced himself to smile instead and threw off the covers. "Come on. Let's make some waffles." He reached up to close the window he'd left cracked the night before and paused.

It was already closed.

Mando'a Translations riduur: spouse ner Et'ika: my little Etain shebs: butt ner cyar'ika: my sweetheart ner jet'ika, ner mesh'lane cyar'ika, gar dinui ner runi mirjahaal. ni kartay'li gar darasuum: my little jedi, my most beautiful sweetheart, you give my soul peace. i hold you in my heart forever ad'ika: child

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo Divider: @saradika-graphics

[beagotlost]

autumn days at the potters’ <3

part one

part two

a/n: so this is the first thing that i’ve ever published so i’m a bit nervous for people reading my work (not that many will lol) but pls give it a chance + enjoy !!!content: fem! reader x james potter (seventh year) fluff, small mention of food.

a/n (again): a series of cute little autumn days at the Potters’ house. Hopefully heartwarming??

You huddled yourself deeper into your scarf and stuffed your hands into your pockets a bit harder against the bite of the October afternoon wind. The sun was distantly warm, but not warm enough to fend off the chill that nipped at your nose.

The trees that lined the street were clad in leaves of orange and red and gold, and the windows of the houses glowed brightly against the descent of dusk.

You came to the gate of the Potters’ house and pushed it, fingers coming into contact with the cool metal. The house was big and warm and inviting, even from the outside. Boston ivy climbed the walls of the house, golden glowing windows framed with white peeked out of the red and gold hues. You walked up the path to the door, boots softly brushing against flagstones, fingers wrapping around the shiny brass knocker.

After just two knocks, the door was flung open to reveal James’ beaming face, complete with rumpled up hair and crooked glasses like always. After all this time, seeing him still gave you butterflies.

You grinned back at him, dropping your bag to the floor as you were drawn into his arms in a tight hug. You pressed your face against his shoulder, feeling his soft sweater on your cheek and inhaling his familiar scent.

"Missed you." You said into his chest, voice muffled by the thick sweater.

James pushed you away and leaned down to kiss you. You completely forgot that you were standing on the doorstep on a freezing cold October afternoon. You were filled with warmth from the contact of your lips and James' arms holding you close.

"I missed you too." He whispered onto your lips. But before he could kiss you another time, Euphemia's voice sounded from behind him.

"Let the poor girl inside, she must be freezing." James chuckled, before picking your bag up and shutting the door.

Mrs Potter came forward and hugged you tightly. Still slightly embarrassed from getting caught kissing your boyfriend by his mother, you thanked her for letting you stay.

"Oh it's nothing. We haven't seen you in ages, and besides, we love having you round just as much as James does. Mind you, it's almost as though you are here all the time, given how much he talks about you." Mrs Potter laughed, and James went a little bit red. "Ive just put the kettle on, would you like tea?"

"Yes please, Mrs Potter, that would be great."

"Oh, call me Effie. I should like to think that we're well past 'Mrs Potter."

You smiled as she left the room to sort out tea.

"Let's you drop your bag off upstairs." James suggested, immediately grabbing it and bounding up the stairs, making you laugh as you ran after him.

You were much more unfit than he was, and when you stumbled into his room, legs aching a bit after running up the steep stairs. You fell into James’s arms, and you rose up on your tiptoes to meet his eyes.

“Shall we pick up where we left off?” You breathed. James answered by kissing you, deep and slow and passionate. Your insides melted like butter again as you ran your hands up his back underneath his sweater. James held you close to his body by your waist, his other hand running through your hair.

“TEA IS READY!” Euphemia’s voice broke the two of you apart, and james let out a small laugh.

“That is the second time in ten minutes that I have been cock blocked by my mother.”

Laughing at him, you fixed your hair and followed him down the stairs, into the kitchen where Effie had laid out a pot of tea and four cups and saucers along with a plate of hot, toasted, buttered tea cakes. You inhaled the aroma of spices and fruit that came off them and thanked Effie as she poured your tea.

Over tea you caught up on school, and how your parents were doing and what the rest of your ‘gang’ (which is where James chipped in and corrected her to ‘marauders’) we’re doing over the holidays and if you had plans to see them.

You spent so long chatting that it was dinner time and Fleamont had to make dinner, so you and James attempted to help, but probably ended up being more of a hindrance, so you just sat on the stools behind the island and talked to James’ dad as he did all of the cooking.

~~~

After dinner, you played scrabble with James’ family and showed them some of the photos you had taken over the previous half term at school.

The living room was probably the cosiest, most homely place you had ever seen. A huge crimson velvety sofa and two swishy armchairs faced the fire, all laden in cushions and throws. The mantelpiece was an organised jumble of family photos, decorated with a vase of sunflowers and some little ceramic pumpkins. You sipped hot chocolate and laughed at James trying to convince everyone of the legitimacy of his scrabble words.

Eventually, you felt as though you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes open so you excused yourself, and went upstairs to brush your teeth, wash your face and change into your pyjamas.

When you entered James’ room, he was already there, standing half dressed on the far side of the room next to his chest of drawers. He was shirtless, and his red plaid pyjama bottoms sat low on his hips.

“How did you get here before me?”

He winked. “Magic.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and ran your hands up his chest, toned by years of quidditch practice. You slung your arms around his neck and his hands drifted from your lower back to your butt, lifting you up so your legs wrapped around his waist.

You titled your head back to look at him, before running a hand through his hair and crashing your lips together, sparks shooting through your body. James walked the two of you to the four poster mahogany bed in the middle of the room draped in heavy red curtains and made up on cream sheets.

He laid you down gently on the bed, your legs still around him as he deepened the kiss and you pulled him even closer towards you.

[ravenlking]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 finally, i get my own happily ever after. because the words written on your wrist...is my name

gender-neutral warnings: - spoilers for cater and trey's ceremonial robe vignettes genre: angst + fluff a/n: - the cameos are back!! - pictures don't belong to me, they go to their original owners! - please give me feedback :)

Let me know if you'd like more!

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃

"And Cater," Riddle turned to face the jovial senior. The dorm leader was perched atop his throne, a hand gripping the documents while the other was holding onto his scepter of power. "You're free for today. You may be excused."

Nodding, Cater walked away, ignoring the pleading looks of the poor seconds years who stirred Riddle's ire. Although, he had to admit that Riddle was right in punishing them. Honestly, who thought playing golf indoors was a good idea?

Cater Diamond sighs as he throws himself onto his bed. At last, he was free of anything school-related, free of the strange, whimsical rules of Heartlsabyul - here, in his room, he was absolutely free! Smiling, he rolled around until his hand grasped the familiar shape of his phone and began scrolling through Magicam. Bright, colorful pictures from his online friends, followers, and idols assaulted his eyes as he winced, turning down his brightness. He quickly resumed his routine, scrolling, liking, scrolling, liking, until he reached the end of the latest posts.

"Hmm," He wondered aloud,"I wonder what my friends are doing!" He tapped on a friend of his's Magicam account and scrolled through their latest post. Raven King just posted a picture of her wrist and herself at a cafe; the caption reading: "I don't need a soulmate when I have macarons and coffee! :D #soulmate #HappyForeverAlone #FictionalMenOverRealMen"

Cater let out a scoff under his breath. Soulmates, how dare she carelessly dismiss them. At least, she still had a chance of having a soulmate. At least, Raven got her chance of falling in love someday! He couldn't make out the ebony-black writing underneath Magicam's blurred out editing, but he knew that Raven had a soulmate somewhere out there, waiting for her.

Cater threw his phone to the side before looking at his wrists. Although he knew it was hopeless, some part of his soul desperately cried out for the smallest of blessings from some deity above.

Soulmates; someone destined to match with your soul, like two puzzle pieces reuniting to form a beautiful image. Someone who understands you like no other, loves you as if you were a treasure they spent lives searching for, someone who will always be there for you - Cater Diamond has been dreaming of someone like that ever since he heard of such a person. He's been waiting for his own happily ever after - so why didn't the deity above gift it to him?

What has he done to earn their ire? Why does it have to be him who suffers?

From young, Cater has already lost more friends than he could count because of the constant moving. He's lost his source of happiness and joy in his childhood because he knows that sometimes it's best to clam up and not spent hours on a friendship which won't even last a year.

Why does it have to be him who loses his soulmate too?

Everyone on Magicam has theirs already. Not a day goes by without a new couple uniting with their other half or aesthetically-pleasing date pictures being posted with sugary-sweet smiles and so much love in their eyes. Cater couldn't help the hurting pang! in his heart (or was it his soul) whenever he saw them.

"Ahh," Cater laughs depressingly to himself. "I've dived too deep down the rabbit hole of depression again!"

He flung the bedsheets off him before setting aside his phone. Just scrolling through it would only remind him of all the sadness that he wants to avoid. Maybe looking at the sunset would do him good. His view from Heartslabyul wasn't too shabby, in fact, he had a glorious window view of the sunset over the pocket dimension of Heartslabyul from his balcony!

The sun was just setting over the edges of the dimension, painting the sky in streaks of bright orange and coloring the fluffy clouds in pinks. He could faintly make out the shape of the crescent moon that has begun to peak out.

It has been a while since he was able to put away all technology and social media for a peaceful sunset like this. All his filters and editing were nothing compared to the nature-beauty of the natural sunset.

Something quick, the color of pure snow, flashed across the night sky. Cater stood at attention, emerald eyes tracking it. A shooting star, symbolizing new dreams and wishes to be granted. But this early? It hasn't even been seven yet. He had seen so many people post about how their wishes were miraculously granted after wishing upon a star. Maybe he should try? If not, he'll just laugh it off. He had nothing to lose anyways. Cater clasped his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

Please, he prayed. Grant me my soulmate. I don't know what I did to stir your ire, but please forgive me. I promise to love them with all my heart and soul. I promise to make their days nothing but filled with light and joy.

He cracked open an eye. The night sky was barren of the shooting star. Whether it heard him or not doesn't matter. Cater's hands slumped to his sides. It was getting late, he should try sleeping a bit. Maybe it would do his unhealthy brain some good. He turned on his heel and walked back.

"Hehe, Cater sweetheart, don't you know that we save the best for last?"

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Cater Diamond is pleased when the Ceremony ends. He has had a rough time "spawning" copies of himself to paint half the roses in the Rose Garden red. As per the Queen of Heart's rules, to greet newcomers, the roses have to be white and red. Nothing else and the same sentiment was carried out by the fearsome dorm leader of Heartslabyul, Riddle Rosehearts. He was sad that he wasn't able to attend the majority of the Opening Ceremony (seeing the fearful looks on his juniors' face was perfect for future jokes) and playing "Guess the Dorm!" with Trey was always delightful.

He sighed, leaning against one of the multiple hedges grown with much painstaking care from Heartslabyul students. Their efforts were not in vain; Cater could see how the hedge was positively brimming with life.

Finally, peace and quiet. The Unbirthday Party held in honor of the new students from Heartslabyul was delightful as always, but as much as Trey's cooking is delicious, Cater could not stand the sweetness of the tarts. They were aesthetically-beautiful, as expected from the son of a professional baker family, but Cater's poor tongue cried from the sugary sweet taste of each bite. Thankfully, he was able to be excused quickly enough and sought out the Rose Maze for a safe haven.

"Now, let's see," Cater beamed as he took out his phone, quickly tapping on the Magicam app. There was no time to waste! His make-up was perfect, the Rose Maze was a beautiful backdrop, and the sunset was gorgeous! What better moment to take a picture than right now?

As he motioned to take a picture, raising his hand to get the perfect angle, his Ceremonial robes' sleeves slid downwards and Cater's emerald eyes widened drastically. There, written as clear as day, was a name. But not any old name - it was the name of his soulmate.

"No way," He breathed out, shoving his phone into his pocket and reading the name aloud. "Y/N L/N, I've never heard of this name before!"

Pushing off from the hedges, Cater dashed out of the maze. There was no time like the present, he must find his soulmate! He has had enough years of waiting; Y/N L/N, I'll find you soon enough!

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

You felt yourself being glomped from behind, making you stumble forward. You heard the headmaster, Crowley was his name?, let out a shout of surprise before it was masked by the thankful mumbles and squeals from the man hugging you.

"Um, sir?" You gently pried off the hands from around your waist but kept them in yours as you whirled around. You met eyes with a tall senior with bright orange hair, donned in the same strange robes as your own. His emerald eyes were overwhelming with glistening tears as he stared at your wrists.

You followed his line of sight to meet bold ebony-black writing on your arm.

"What on earth?" You gaped at the words on your wrist. As far as you knew, you never got a tattoo! You were sure of it! Why was everything happening so weirdly; first you woke up almost being boiled alive by some strange tanuki and now this-

"Sir, please explain!" You desperately looked at Crowley, who had his jaw dropped and golden eyes widened beneath his mask. "Sir??"

The man in front of you laughed before pulling back his own sleeve to reveal your own name imprinted on his, written in the exact same font. He grinned cheerfully at you and somehow, you got the feeling that this man was going to be the sole owner of your heart, soul, and mind. Something about him felt so warm, so safe, like a little place to go when you feel weak to be re-charge.

"The name's Cater!" He gave you a little peace symbol before popping a kiss on your wrist, where his name was written.

"But you, my little soulmate, may call me Cray-Cray, as in cray-cray about you~"

You laughed as you got swept away by the man's charms.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Somewhere, far away from Night Raven College, a girl with ebony-black hair and violet eyes sighed as she switched off her phone, the last app on it being Magicam. She took a make-up cleanser and wipped away the illegible scribbles on her wrist. Her mission was complete, she should leave now. She had stirred the feelings needed within Cater in order to find you, and the happy couple was on their way now. But once again, Raven had no feelings, no desires to leave. In fact, she desperately wanted to cling to the magic of this world she loved oh so much. Couldn't she stay, just for a longer time? Her wrist-watch beeped as her time here came to a close.

Raven let out a painful sigh before taking one last bite of her macarons and drank the last of her coffee. Sliding the madols underneath her empty coffee cup, Raven took one last look around the happy ambiance of the cafe. Her heart sunk at the prospect of leaving, but her mind won in the end. Raven reluctantly tapped her feet, disappearing in a wave of purple. Similar to a certain dragon fae's magic, the only thing left of Raven was purple butterflies who slowly flew out of the chamber, leaving no trace of the girl.

A short woman with deep green hair came out of the kitchen, pushing an empty trolley. She moved the table where the girl with ebony-black hair once sat and quickly wiped the table clean for the next customers. She smiled as she held up the little note she left behind.

"Thank you for the delicious treats and warm hospitality, Mrs. and Mr. Clover! I hope to return to your bakery soon."

~ R.L.K

[coraliix]

North Wind | Lloyd x OC

Chapter 7: Collision pt.2

If you have not read pt.1 of the chapter, do so! Context is needed for continuity.

A/N: For some reason, the text message format is a bit wonky in this post — please ignore.

Enjoy!

——————————

Soft knocking sounded at my bedroom door.

My eyelids fluttered open before clamping shut again at the bright sunlight streaming through my window. Barely awake, I couldn't give a sound of approval to come in, but Skylor gently cracked the door open to check in.

“Mari, are you still asleep?” she whispered.

A puff of air through my nose was all the answer I could groggily manage.

“I’m making breakfast right now. Come out soon, okay?”

I gave her a slight head nod, and she closed the door again. Taking a deep breath, I flung the sheets off of my body. Somehow during the night, I’d wrapped myself up in them, and still dressed in my normal clothes, I woke up warm and sweaty.

Pushing myself up with my elbows, I slowly lifted myself into a sitting position, staring blearily at everything and nothing as I rubbed my eyes. With a few more moments to wake myself up, I eventually rose from my bed and started to quickly tidy up my room.

How long had I been asleep? I didn’t usually wake up this disoriented unless I’d gotten very little sleep, or too much. Judging by the way it was completely sunny outside, I figured it was the latter.

Sure enough, when I came out of the bathroom after a quick shower and glanced at the clock on the wall, I saw that it was just past nine in the morning.

“Fourteen hours asleep. That’s gotta be a world record or something,” I croaked, voice hoarse from disuse.

Skylor laughed from where she stood at the stove. “I’m not surprised you slept that long. You must've been under pretty heavy stress.”

That quieted the conversation. Guilt rose in my throat like bile as I remembered her words from last night. She left that part of her past behind. But had I? I still had my kabuki mask. I’d hesitated to get rid of it, unable to leave that part of my past behind.

“Sky…” I started to say, hating how my voice trembled.

She turned to me, a gentle smile on her face. “Let’s eat breakfast first,” she said, plating the food and placing it on the table.

I grabbed utensils from a drawer and put them next to our plates.

We sat down and ate.

The following silence wasn't uncomfortable, per say. But it was filled with unspoken questions and thoughts, as well as the apprehension of what we would soon discuss.

I wiped those things from my mind for now, instead focusing on finishing my breakfast. One thing at a time. Even if this provided a respite for only a few minutes.

Once the clinking of our utensils slowed, plates empty as we finished our food, Skylor quietly cleared her throat.

“So,” she started. “The reason you came here was to escape your uncle, who runs a yakuza crime syndicate.” She didn't say it as a question.

“Yes,” I affirmed. “It was getting to be too much; there was no sense of anonymity, me and Hideo were constantly getting harassed by the public, and we always had police attention on us.”

Skylor frowned. “But why didn't Hideo come with you?”

There it was. The question I’d been dreading to answer — to answer honestly.

I hesitated before speaking, but with a sigh, I forced the words out. “He… sold me out to our uncle when I told him that I was planning a way for us to escape. I thought—” My voice cracked suddenly, tears surprising me as they sprang into my eyes. “I thought he would want to leave with me, but… he didn't.”

Taking a shuddering breath, I coughed to clear the tightness in my throat. “We’d spent so long under his thumb, and I’d— I’d promised him I’d get us away from him. Back when he started my training,” I choked out, looking away as heat rose in my face and my nose got runny.

Sometime while I had been speaking, the tears had leaked out my eyes and trailed down my cheeks. I wiped them away as Skylor took in what I said.

“Do you know for sure that Hideo betrayed you?” was what she finally said.

I blinked. Truthfully, I hadn't really thought about it in my haste to get away from the base and leave Jamanakai — I didn't have time to dwell on what really happened. But now that my thoughts were more clear, I thought on it.

“My uncle told me he did,” I replied, but my voice was quiet, doubtful. I recognized the irony in what I was saying. I was trusting the word of my uncle over my brother?

But no, there was no other way it could have been anyone other than Hideo to betray me.

…Right?

“And I didn’t tell anyone besides Hideo about my plan,” I sniffled. “It’s not like my uncle could’ve listened in from my phone or the apartment either. I made sure neither had any bugs or listening devices in them.”

“What about in Hideo’s phone?” Skylor asked.

I faltered at her question, trying to remember. I had been there with Hideo when we both got new phones once we were under Ikarashi’s protection, and we had triple checked both of the cellphones to make sure our uncle hadn’t messed with them.

“No, there weren’t any bugs in his,” I told her. “Unless they were added after he got the phone, but I figured he would tell me if he suspected anything happened. He was good at technology, after all.”

Skylor sighed, leaning back in her chair with a frown. “Maybe he was threatening Hideo to work for him and keep you in your place.”

“But I don’t understand. If that was the case, why wouldn't he just tell me?” I snapped. I blinked at my outburst. I was growing frustrated from the lack of motive or reasoning for why Hideo would betray me, but it wasn’t right to direct that onto Skylor, especially when she was trying to help me. “Sorry,” I apologized.

She waved it off with a hand. “No harm done.”

We sat at the table silently, not sure how to continue with the conversation.

Deciding to move on, Skylor asked, “And were you involved with any of his crimes?” She hurried to add, “Not that I care or will judge you for it — you already know what I’ve done — but I just want to know.”

Hesitation held my tongue in place.

“And if you were involved, chances are people might come after you now that you’re away from your uncle’s protection. I can help you handle that,” she said.

That last part of what she’d said was what persuaded me. True, not many knew my identity as Tempest, but the few who did could sell it to people who would use it to get back at me for the crimes I’d committed against them.

The memory of the man who’d been following me last night came unbidden, resurfacing and sending a shiver through me.

“I… was involved,” I admitted.

Skylor’s frown deepened. Not in judgment, but in sympathy. “You’re so young,” she murmured quietly, probably not meaning for me to hear it. “Then again, so was I.”

She breathed in deeply, leaning forward on her elbows. “What things did you do for him? And I promise I’m not going to use this information against you, ever. I just… Knowing what specific things you did could help me think of what you need in terms of protection.”

I sighed, bringing my arms up to hold myself. “Have you ever heard of the criminal ‘Tempest’?”

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and I could tell she was trying to hide her shock. “The one in Jamanakai?”

I nodded. “That was me. I still…” I faltered, looking away from her. “I still have the mask.”

“Oh, Mari,” Skylor sighed, her voice full of sympathy. “When did you start?”

“When I was fourteen,” I replied. “My training started a few months before my birthday, and my first mission was after 5 months of training. Hideo knew about it.”

“Did he ever do anything for your uncle?”

I shook my head. “Not that I knew of. I fought tooth and nail to make sure my uncle didn’t force him to do anything. Everything he told me to do, I did perfectly, without any fights or resistance. All so Hideo wouldn’t get tangled up with his syndicate.”

The words I didn’t say were clear. But he ended up involved anyway.

Skylor’s jaw worked as she thought of something, but she hesitated before saying it. Was she going to ask—

“Did you ever kill someone?”

I hugged myself tighter, but shook my head, jaw clenching. “No. The most I did was break bones and sometimes cut people. But never anything fatal. And if they decided not to get medical attention and died of infections or something, I’ve never counted that.”

She snorted at that. “Fair enough.”

We settled into a quiet of sorts. Nothing else was said. Nothing else was asked.

My phone buzzed again, this time from where it was laying on the table. My eyes snapped to it, but when I saw the briefest flash of Lloyd’s name, I flipped it over.

Skylor, ever perceptive, raised an eyebrow. “Was that Lloyd?”

I pressed my lips in a thin line. “No,” I lied.

She sighed and gave me a tired look. “Come on, Mari, we just had an honest, heartfelt discussion. Why do you feel the need to lie about this?”

Exhaling, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Because if you knew that I was ignoring him — which I guess you do now, hurray — you’d push me into talking to him. But I already know what the outcome of that would be,” I said, finishing my words with a pointed stare as she opened her mouth to interject.

“I wasn’t going to do that,” she argued, crossing her arms.

“Who’s lying now?” I mumbled quietly.

“Hey,” Skylor said, demonstrating that she’d heard me. “Seriously, if you really didn’t want to talk to him, I wouldn’t have pressed you to. But I think that deep down, you do still want to be his friend — you’re just scared that he’ll judge you for what you did and have done, and you also don’t want to bring him any more trouble. But trust me Mari, Lloyd won’t judge you or push you away. I promise.”

I glanced up at her, thinking on what she was saying. “I guess you’re right,” I admitted.

She smiled.

“You’re good at that, you know,” I said. At Skylor’s raised brow, I clarified, “Offering advice, giving insight — even when it’s annoyingly accurate, it’s really helpful. Thank you.”

Skylor laughed at my words, warmth filling her eyes. “Wisdom comes with age,” she joked with a wink. I chuckled softly. She started to stack our plates, and I followed suit by taking them over to the sink and scrubbing them clean.

“I think you should call Lloyd,” Skylor said while I dried the dishes and put them away. “Or text, or something. I know that he’ll understand what you were feeling that day. And you can move past your regrets once you resolve that issue.”

I nodded, mulling on a response. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll talk to him later, after work,” I promised. Skylor nodded approvingly.

With a glance at the clock, I padded my way back to my bedroom. “Speaking of which, I need to get going soon if I want to clock in on time.”

“I can drive you if you want,” Skylor offered. “So you’re not in such a hurry. I need to get to the restaurant soon too. My customers are gonna start complaining that the place isn’t 24/7 anymore.”

I smiled at the offer, nodding before I stepped inside my room. “Sure. Thank you.”

As my hand circled the doorknob, Skylor’s hand brushed my elbow. I looked back at her, eyes asking the question for me. “What?”

She hesitated, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Are you going to tell them? What you told me?” Lloyd. And his friends.

Well, Kai already knew part of it, and I doubted that he was the only one, but that didn’t make me any more eager to reveal everything to everyone.

I winced. “No,” I admitted. Skylor frowned a little, eyes filling with disappointment and slight confusion. “I just… I don’t want to bring that part of my past into my future. And maybe I’m also scared that Lloyd and everyone else will react like Kai and not want anything to do with me anymore.”

“I don't think they—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “Just… Let me handle it. If the topic comes up, I’ll let them know. Eventually,” I promised her.

Skylor let out a sigh, but nodded. “Alright.” She pulled her hand away from my arm, but fixed me with a serious look. “Just don't let your secrets come between you.” I nodded, and she let me enter my room to get ready to go.

Just before we left the apartment, I opened the chat between me and Lloyd, reading his messages from last night as guilt seeped into my gut.

Lloyd:

Hey, I’m sorry for not coming after you

Can we talk about what happened?

I promise I’m not mad, I just want to talk

Please?

Me:

Does around 6pm work?

I have work soon and that’s when I get off

Lloyd’s response was instant. My phone buzzed right as I put it away.

Lloyd:

Thats good w me

where do you work???

Id rather talk in person

After I sent a text telling him where I worked and confirming our plan to talk, me and Skylor made our way to the garage and headed out on her motorcycle. She dropped me off at Steeper Wisdom with a wave and a “good luck.”

Nothing eventful happened during my shift, or during the time I ate lunch.

The only noteworthy thing to occur was when I saw that old man from my first day in Ninjago City enter the shop again. He’d come up to the counter with a bag of tea and we’d exchanged pleasantries. I learned he was a sensei and taught martial arts at his monastery tucked into the forest on the edge of the city. His name was Wu.

He asked me how I was doing and if things had gone well for me after I’d found Skylor.

Talking with him was nice, relaxing. It felt like I could trust him; his wisdom and kindness filled me with a strange sense of deja vu. And now that I was seeing him more clearly and not at night, I noticed just how old he looked. Ancient, like he’d lived for millenia.

He said he had to get back to his students soon, and bid me farewell.

The last hour of my shift passed by quickly. Anxiety pooled in my stomach at the reminder that Lloyd had said he would stop by once my shift was over.

After closing up the shop and grabbing my things, I stepped out the doors. I didn't have to look far to find where Lloyd was. He was leaning on his green motorcycle — the fact that all of my current friends had motorcycles never failed to stir amusement in me — and checking his phone.

He looked up as I stepped closer, tucking his phone away and standing upright. “Hey,” Lloyd greeted, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“Hi,” I replied quietly.

“Did you… have a good shift?” he asked. It was clear he didn't know how to approach the topic of yesterday's events.

That made two of us. “It was alright. Nothing much happened. Met this cool old guy,” I said, idly fiddling with the chain of my pendant.

Lloyd nodded, eyes briefly flickering to my necklace before returning to my face. “That's nice.”

Silence stretched between us, tense as a cord where it felt like it would snap if either of us spoke. Lloyd decided to be the one to bite the bullet. “So, about yesterday…”

I braced myself for his words.

“I’m really sorry about those people.”

I blinked in confusion. That was not what I’d been expecting. “What? Why are you apologizing? And for what? You don't— none of what happened was your fault,” I said, eyes narrowing as I looked up at him with a perplexed expression.

“No, I mean— well, I guess you're right, but I meant about not defending you. I was just… scared, honestly,” he admitted hesitantly, scratching at the corner of his eye. “You’re the first friend I’ve made that hasn't had to deal with all the crap of being friends with me, and I guess I was just scared. Of losing you, and of you getting hurt because of me.”

My expression softened at his words, and I sighed quietly.

“And I completely understand if you don’t want to be friends with me anymore. It’s… it’s a lot to exist in this city around me,” Lloyd rushed to say, seeming to take my sigh the wrong way.

“What? You think I don't want to be friends with you anymore?” I laughed softly, feeling silly now that I understood where he was coming from.

“Lloyd, I told you on the first day of school that I didn't care about the harassment or whatever — I mean, it's different when it’s directed at you, but that’s a topic for some other time — and I meant it,” I promised him, stepping closer as if to prove my point. “You’re my friend now, and you won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”

He laughed as I spoke, a smile lighting up his face at my words. “I don't think I’ll ever want to get rid of you,” he murmured, gaze softening as he met my eyes earnestly.

The gaze made my cheeks flush as I suddenly realized how close I’d stepped again.

“But I still want to talk more about what actually happened,” Lloyd said, fixing me with a serious stare. “Specifically how you put yourself in a situation where the spotlight is going to be on you now after I explicitly told you not to do anything.”

I puffed out a breath, rolling my eyes at him. “Listen, Lloyd. I’m not going to pretend like what those jerks said didn't hurt me in some way, but what they were saying about you was absolutely inexcusable. You are not a tyrant and you do deserve happiness, no matter what anyone else says,” I finished, pointing a finger into his chest in emphasis.

Lloyd blinked at my finger before looking back at me pointedly. “Thank you. But that still doesn't mean you didn't make yourself more of a target,” he pointed out, grabbing my hand.

This conversation was starting to sound strangely familiar.

“I can handle it,” I argued, dismissing the heat that rose to my face as indignation.

“I just don't want you getting hurt because of me,” Lloyd said again, grasping my hand tighter against his chest. “Can you just promise me that you won't act recklessly if someone insults me?”

I looked away with a grimace, agreeing that I had acted recklessly but not willing to promise I wouldn't again.

“Please, Mari,” he pleaded. “I can't— I don't want you to end up cast out and shunned because of me.”

I wanted to argue, to make the point that him being treated that way shouldn't even be happening, but what was the point? I’d already given him my rant on that, and he knew the truth of it as much as I did. Not to mention the fact that the puppy-dog eyes he was giving me made it that much harder to resist promising him.

“Okay, fine.” I sighed. “I promise I won't do anything reckless when people insult you. That doesn't mean I won't do anything at all, though,” I warned with a pointed stare.

Lloyd laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “I guess I can't expect any less from the girl who punched a guy for me.”

A small grin made its way up my lips, and I shrugged.

We stood there for a second before I remembered that his hand was still grasping mine against his chest, which had inadvertently pulled me closer to him, close enough to feel his heartbeat against my hand. Lloyd seemed to realize this at the same time as me because his face reddened slightly. He dropped my hand from his chest, but didn't let go.

“Speaking of which,” Lloyd coughed as he glanced away. “Where did you learn to fight like that? I mean, you had solid punches at that arcade game, but well, you broke that guy’s nose.”

Now it was my turn to look caught. “Uh… My uncle taught me.” The truth. “Mostly self defense.” A lie.

Lloyd gave me a bewildered look. “Self-defense taught you how to break a guy's nose?”

“Okay, so he taught me to be a little aggressive. That guy deserved it, though,” I argued. “And if someone is trying to kidnap me or something, you won't be seeing me fight purely out of defense.”

He nodded, frowning slightly. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” I returned with a wink, making Lloyd roll his eyes and laugh. “And what about you? I didn't expect you to be able to throw punches like that back at the arcade.”

Lloyd smiled at the inadvertent compliment before giving me a furtive grin and placing a finger on his lips. “That’s confidential,” he chuckled.

An incredulous snort escaped me at his answer. “Pfft, ‘confidential’? What, are you a spy for the CIA or something? Why are you being weird about this?” I laughed. “I just want to know!”

“Let’s just say I have a very good teacher who is well-versed in martial arts,” he said, lifting a hand to cover his mouth as he struggled to stifle his laugh.

“You’re ridiculous,” I huffed out with a smile, unable to shake my head in disbelief from how bizarre his answer was.

His crooked grin only widened.

“I guess we should get going soon,” Lloyd said after a minute of comfortable silence. “It's getting dark.”

I tilted my head. “We?”

He laughed at my confusion as if it was clear what he meant. It was at that moment I noticed the two helmets resting on the bike’s seat. He reached back to grab both of them. “I’ll give you a ride back home.”

“Oh, thank you,” I smiled in thanks, accepting the helmet he offered me.

With a tilt of his head toward his motorcycle, Lloyd said, “Let’s go.” He climbed on first, now donning his green helmet, and looked back at me as if to say ‘get on.’

I hesitated for a bit before steeling myself and swinging a leg over to sit behind him. My hands circled around his waist to anchor myself and ensure I wouldn’t fall.

“Hold on tight,” Lloyd called over his shoulder as he revved the engine and pulled away from the curb.

My answer was masked by the air whipping past us as Lloyd zipped away from the tea shop and headed down to a less used road. I tightened my arms around his waist as we sped down the street. Because of the helmet, I didn’t feel the wind directly hitting my face, but I still felt the same rush of energy that came with moving at such high speeds. My heart was racing and blood rushed to my face.

I wasn’t sure if it was because of the adrenaline or my proximity to Lloyd.

Thankfully, Lloyd was too focused on the road and unable to turn around to look at me to notice the way my face was growing hot from the way I was pressed against him.

“You okay back there?” he asked when we reached a traffic light. He turned his head to look back at me, patting my thigh with a hand and immediately making me tense. It was hard to tell with the helmet, but it looked like he was smirking. Oh, the little bastard. He knew.

I stamped down the butterflies in my stomach, unwilling to let him take amusement in my flushed face, and nodded. “I’m fine,” I told him, raising my eyebrow at him regardless of if he could see it or not.

A light chuckle was all the response Lloyd gave. He pulled his hand away to place it back on the hand grip and started to drive again.

Only once he was facing away again did I mentally facepalm. Calm down, Mari, I scolded myself, half-tempted to smack myself, but two things would make that a bad idea. Have you already forgotten what you told Skylor yesterday? He’s a friend.

As we got closer to the apartment complex, our speed slowed and Lloyd stopped the bike in front of the glass doors. I swung my leg over the seat and hopped off, taking the helmet and shaking my head to get rid of the helmet hair.

“Thanks for the ride. And for coming to talk,” I said to Lloyd, who accepted the helmet I handed back to him.

He placed the helmet on the seat as he got up, taking his own off and mussing his hair with a hand. “It’s no problem. I’m glad we cleared up the air,” he agreed, giving me a lopsided grin.

Returning his smile, I nodded. “Me too.”

A slightly awkward air filled the space between us, but I didn't rush to break it. It wasn't uncomfortable; rather, it felt like there was something Lloyd wanted to say, so I let him sort it out before he spoke.

“My, uh,” he started to say, “ … my birthday is in a few days. I’m just hanging out with my friends to celebrate. Would you want to come?” Shyness suddenly replaced his boyish demeanor. He started pulling at the sleeves of his jacket — a tick I was starting to notice Lloyd did whenever he seemed nervous.

I smiled softly at the sight. “That sounds like fun,” I told him. “I’d love to go. When is it?”

Delight crept into his smile at my answer. “The 23rd. It’s on a school day, but we’re planning on just heading to a hidden spot at our favorite park and hanging out there.”

“Aw, that’s nice. I’ll definitely be there. Just text me where it is and what you want for your gift,” I replied, quickly pulling out my phone and setting a reminder for myself.

“Oh, you don't have to get me anything,” Lloyd objected. “You coming is good enough for me.”

I looked back at him and tucked my phone away with a grin. “I appreciate that, Lloyd, but don’t be stingy about receiving a gift. I’ve already decided that I’m getting you something. Can't change my mind, I’m afraid,” I assured him matter-of-factly.

“Mari.” Lloyd gave me a deadpan look.

“Nope, my mind is made up,” I grinned, giving him a look that very clearly told him I wouldn't be persuaded. “You’ll just have to wait to see what it is.”

He sighed, an exaggerated show of resignation. “Alright, alright,” he huffed, playfully rolling his eyes. “Just don’t make it something weird. Or do. That could be funny, actually.” He pondered that with a chuckle. “Anyway, I should get going now. I’ll— Oh, almost forgot!”

Reaching a hand to the small compartment under the bike’s seat, Lloyd pulled out a familiar plastic bag. “I never got to give this to you,” he said, pulling the silver pegasus plush out of the bag and holding it out to me.

A small chuckle escaped me at the sight. “Right. I almost forgot about our little exchange of prizes.” I took the plush toy with gentle hands, admiring it before giving Lloyd a smile. “Thanks again for getting it for me, even though you didn’t have to.”

Lloyd scoffed. “Who’s being stingy about getting gifts now? I just wanted to give it to you.”

I laughed softly at his jibe, my smile widening. “Thank you, Lloyd. It was very sweet of you.”

He gave me a toothy grin. “I don’t have a sweet tooth for nothing, Mari,” he winked, earning another quiet laugh. “Anyway, I should really be going now. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

Lips curving into a small smile, I nodded. “I’ll see you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he responded with a wide grin, slipping his helmet back on and giving me a wave. I waved back, watching him leave as something strange swirled in my chest. Different than butterflies.

It was like a sense of calm, washing over me and making it seem as though life was finally heading somewhere good.

——————————

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