#and seeing as chapter six of four walls is coming this weekend it seems like a good time to finally post it

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

x

[poorlittlegreenie13]

Deleted scene from 'Rules For (fake) Dating an Italian' to keep you busy while AO3 is down:

(Sydney & Carmy babysit for Richie, set in between chapters four & five — I wrote it & then decided to scrap it, I don't even know why lol it just wasn't working. & I didn't edit it, so it might have mistakes. But anyway, you guys can have it as a treat.)

Richie runs out the front door, pulling his jacket on. 

“Carmen,” he says, walking up to Carmy and, much to Sydney’s surprise, taking Carmy’s face in both hands and pressing a firm kiss to the top of Carmy’s head. “Thank you so much. I owe you, brother.”

“It’s fine,” Carmy mutters. 

“Sydney,” Richie says, pulling away from Carmy to look at her. 

“I don’t need a kiss,” Sydney says quickly, “just a verbal thank you is more than enough.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Richie says. “Carmy explained the situation, right?”

“I told her what you told me,” Carmy says. 

“Because I never miss a weekend with her,” Richie says, “I mean, I have literally never missed a single minute of a weekend with her before, but if I don’t go to the DMV today, it’s like six months till I can get another appointment, and I really need to get my license renewed.”

“It’s fine,” Sydney says, not dwelling too much on the thought of how much Richie has been driving her around with an expired license so far. “We’re happy to look after her.”

“I’ll be back in two hours,” Richie says. “She has her iPod, and all her Barbies. There are Uncrustables in the fridge, or you can cook with whatever’s in there, and she likes watching Unicorn Academy, she can put it on herself.”

“We’ll be fine, cousin. Don’t be late to your appointment,” Carmy says, with a somber expression that looks less like someone taking on babysitting duties, and more like a soldier awaiting command.

Carmy called Syd that morning, saying Richie was freaking out about needing a babysitter. Granted, Carmy was also freaking out about being a babysitter. 

"Nat’s busy, Tina’s busy, everyone’s fucking busy, can you please come with me? I’m not good with kids."

Sydney isn’t particularly good with kids either, but she didn’t tell him that.

She would’ve taken any excuse to see Carmy. Because she’s a masochist. And because the fact that he asked her to come not because it would help trick Richie, but because he wanted her help, made her feel kind of hot in the face. 

When he picked her up, she slid into his passenger’s seat with an almost-practiced ease, and he just sat there looking at her for a minute. 

“Your hair,” he said. 

“Oh,” she said, touching the end of one freshly-done braid, “yeah, microbraids, like I told you.”

“They look nice,” he said, and she blushed, despite the stiffness of the complement. 

He always seems to rehearse his words to her in his head before he says them; they come out practiced and overly formal, and it frustrates her, how measured they seem, though it shouldn’t. 

She’s pretty sure that’s just Carmy’s way. He’s careful with everything, not just compliments. She’s learning that about him. 

She’s been learning other things about him, too. 

Like the fact that he seems to go quiet in crowds, and gravitate toward walls. He flinches if anybody moves toward him too suddenly. Sometimes, not often, but enough to notice, he stutters when he speaks. 

She wants to know everything about him. She wishes his life story was a book she could read, so she could just catch up to where he is now, and understand everything about him. She wants to know the right things to say, to do, how to put him at ease. She wants to know what he’s thinking when he looks at her. 

Now, she watches Carmy walk into Richie’s house, stooping to pet Zanzibar as the puppy runs excitedly up to them, letting out high-pitched barks and tapping his little claws against the tiles of Richie’s entrance foyer. 

In the doorframe of the kitchen across from them, a tiny girl with blonde hair and Richie’s facial features peeks out at them. 

“Hi,” Sydney says, giving her a little wave. 

“Uncle Carmy?” the girl asks. 

Carmy looks up at her, unmistakable anxiety crossing his face. 

“Uh, hi,” he says. “Richie’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“She doesn’t call her dad Richie, does she?” Sydney whispers. 

“She knows who I mean,” Carmy whispers back. 

Eva looks between the two of them.

“Dad said you would make me lunch,” she says. 

Sydney smiles. “We will,” she says, looking at Carmy expectantly. 

He nods seriously, walking ahead into the kitchen and beginning to look through Richie’s cabinets. Sydney follows Eva into the room, watching the little girl take a seat at one of the kitchen chairs, pulling her knees up into her chest and looking at  Sydney with huge eyes she hasn’t totally grown into yet. 

“Are you Uncle Carmy’s girlfriend?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Sydney says, glancing over at Carm. 

He’s holding a box of Mac & Cheese, and holds it up for Eva to see, raising an eyebrow. 

“This good?” he asks. 

“That’s good,” Eva says, crossing her arms and deepening her voice slightly to mock Carmy as she says it. He cracks a smile, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove. 

Michelin starred chef cooking boxed Mac & Cheese in a tee shirt three feet away from Sydney. Her life is a joke. 

“Why are you his girlfriend?” Eva asks. 

Sydney laughs softly, considering this. 

“Well, uh,” she says, with a little shake of her head. Carmy has his back to her, facing the stove, but he’s standing still, like he’s listening. “He’s great at cooking,” Sydney says. “And I really like spending time with him. He’s good company.”

“My dad said Carmy’s never looked this happy before,” Eva says. 

Carmy clears his throat. “I am happy,” he says, though there’s an ironic flatness to it. 

“Because of her?” Eva asks. 

Sydney bites the inside of her cheek. 

But Carmy turns around and looks at Sydney, brow furrowing slightly, eyes soft. 

“Yeah. Because of her,” he says. 

He says it like it’s true. 

Michelin star mac and cheese is about as good as it sounds. Carmy is leaning against Richie’s counter, watching Sydney and Eva eat. Eva’s iPod is set on the table in front of her, playing some Taylor Swift deepcut that Sydney doesn’t recognize. As Sydney swallows her third or fourth spoonful of food, she stands up, turning to Carmy. The heat of the stove has put a slight flush in the tops of his cheeks, and there’s a towel slung over one of his shoulders. 

“You’re not eating?” she asks him. 

The question seems to take him off guard. His eyes flicker to the pot of food, then back to her. 

“No, I made it for you two,” he says.

“There’s plenty, Carm,” Sydney says, grabbing a bowl from Richie’s cabinet and filling it for him from the pot still warming on the stove. When she hands it to him, he just looks at it for a second, before taking a small spoonful and putting it in his mouth, chewing like it’s his first time eating a meal. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Sydney asks him, picking her own bowl back up. 

“It’s alright,” he says, taking another, bigger spoonful. He does that sometimes; it’s one of the things she’s noticed. He eats like he’s starving, or he doesn’t eat at all. It gives her this weird urge to take care of him. To text him in the mornings, and at night, and ask him if he ate that day. To show up at his apartment unannounced with bags of groceries and make him sit down for twenty minutes while she meal preps for him. 

“It’s good, Carm, it’s better than alright,” she says again, tone light, even though she’s willing him to believe her as hard as she can. Trying to get him to take a compliment is like trying to throw a ball through a brick wall. 

He averts his eyes, nodding again. “A little flat, but I guess that’s what you get with boxed mix,” he says, pushing the noodles around with his spoon. 

“Ever make it from scratch?” Sydney asks. “Or is that too pedestrian for a fancy New York Chef?”

“I'm gonna pretend I know what pedestrian means in that context,” he says, meeting her eyes with an amused smile. “I made it from scratch one Thanksgiving, years ago. Had no idea what I was doing. My mother passed out at like 3:00pm, and we were all scrambling in the kitchen trying to get dinner together for her so she’d, you know, see it and be happy with us when she woke up. But Sugar burned the turkey, so Mikey had to spend hours trying to calm her down; she got these crazy panic attacks when she made mistakes. And I made mac and cheese.”

“How old were you?” Sydney asks. 

He seems surprised at the question, and shrugs. “Twelve, I think? Mikey would’ve been seventeen, Sugar would’ve just turned fourteen.”

“You’re the youngest?” 

He nods. 

“That figures,” Sydney says. 

He scoffs. “Why does that figure?”

“I don’t know, just does.”

His bowl is almost empty. Wordlessly, she takes it from his hands, refilling it. 

“So, did your mom like the mac and cheese?” she asks. 

Something in his face darkens. He gives a quick shake of his head. 

“No, she couldn’t get past Nat burning the turkey. We just, uh, took all the food into Mikey’s room and watched The Peanuts until she stopped yelling and fell asleep.”

“Uncle Carmy,” Eva interrupts, getting up from her chair and walking over to where Carmy is standing, looking up at him expectantly.“Daddy said you would play Barbies with me.”

“I will play Barbies with you,” Carmy says, and then, looking over at Sydney: “Syd, would you like to play Barbies?”

There’s a fond, almost relieved smile on his face, like another minute of talking about his family might’ve pushed him off some cliff’s edge that he wasn’t prepared to crawl back over. 

“Obviously I want to play Barbies,” Sydney says, letting Eva lead them into the other room. 

"You're such a liar," Sydney murmurs, as they walk behind Eva.

"I am?" Carmy asks lightly.

"Yeah," Sydney says, "you told me you weren't good with kids."

He smiles, shaking his head ruefully.

"I'm not," he says.

Sydney rolls her eyes.

And they play Barbies, for an hour. Carmy kneeling on carpet, listening attentively as Eva explains which Barbie is which (she has a Taylor Swift box set, it seems, and a Barbie dream home that looks like it cost more than Sydney’s last paycheck). Sydney sits cross legged across from them, watching Carmy delicately hold a Barbie doll in one tattooed hand as Eva brushes out its hair. 

Watching him be a good uncle shouldn't be as fucking attractive as it is. It shouldn't be conjuring up vivid images of Carmy holding sleeping babies and cooking family dinners.

God, Sydney is so fucked.

“Speak Now Taylor Barbie is marrying Jacob from Twilight Barbie,” Eva says. “‘Cept I forgot Jacob at Mommy’s house.”

“I see,” Carmy says. Sydney bites back a smile. 

“Are you ever gonna get married?” Eva asks, looking up at Carmy. 

Sydney’s smile quickly fades. 

Carmy’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Me?” he says. 

“You and Sydney,” Eva says, looking over at Sydney expectantly. 

“Uh, maybe,” Carmy says. He’s looking at Sydney too; an expression she can’t read. “I don’t know. Depends on… lots of things.”

“Like what?” Eva asks. 

Carmy clears his throat. “Like… whether Sydney puts up with me for long enough for me to ask her?”

“Oh, shut up,” Sydney says, smiling exasperatedly, shaking her head at him. “He’s kidding, Eva.”

“So you are getting married?”

“No,” Sydney says, “no, not right now.”

“When?”

She looks at them with expectant, innocent eyes. Sydney can’t help but laugh.  

“Not for a long time,” Carmy says. 

"How long?"

Carmy looks away from Sydney, shaking his head like he doesn't know how to answer.

"I don't know," Sydney says, drawing Eva's attention over to her. "Whenever we decide we want to."

"Don't you want to marry him now?" Eva asks sincerely.

Sydney laughs uncomfortably. When she looks over at Carmy, he's looked back up at her. His brow is furrowed slightly. He should be smiling and laughing. This is funny. Objectively. He's taking it way too seriously.

"Yeah," Sydney says, staring at Carmy, raising a taunting eyebrow at him. "Sure I do. But marriage is really complicated so I think we're probably going to wait and see. Right, Carm?"

"Right," Carmy says, with a stiffness to the word like he's in pain. "Yeah, let's not talk about getting married anymore."

Eva frowns.

"It makes him nervous," Sydney stage-whispers to her.

Eva cheers up at that, smiling and nodding knowingly.

"People get nervous when they love each other," Eva says. "Mommy told me."

Sydney scoffs softly, but when she looks at Carmy he isn't smiling. He's just staring back at her, doing that weird, hyper-focused thing where he gets, like, fixated on her face.

It makes her face feel hot.

It makes her nervous.

Fuck.

[everythingeverywheresblog]

Stars and Migraines - Chapter six

Chapter six

I haven't posted here in MONTHS so here's Chapter One for those who have no idea what is going on.

Sydney's POV

Red. All I ever see is red. Red shirts, red caps, red flags with the prancing horse on them. Italy is quite a thing.

Imola, round four of the Championship with a whopping 100% success rate for Daniel and a car that's been giving a headache to the other teams in every Free Practice session of the weekend.

Everyone is walking around the garages and motorhome with a smile on their faces, myself included. Even if my fingers shake every time I see Zak Brown, or if my heart rate picks up when he looks over Daniel and I--with whom I have kept the contact very minimal.

Yet there's a smile on my face. Because the team is first in the Constructors standings and our drivers occupy the first and third place in the Drivers standings.

Imola is the last race before F1 takes a semi-break of a relaxing three weeks. It’s also the first time in the five years I’ve been working in this field that I honestly cannot wait to get back home.

The situation with Daniel is calmer. He doesn’t lash out on me anymore. Well, we barely even talk outside of work-related stuff, so he doesn’t really get the chance to. But we have ridded Zac’s and the media’s attention away from us, something that eases me up a bit.

“Mr. Ricciar—”

“Daniel. Please.” His interruption startles me, certainly not expecting him to still be so caught on with that.

“Alright...Well, Media’s supposed to be more chill, I guess, with us this weekend, so you’ll probably get a breather.”

Daniel nods, but the way his eyes hold no life in them makes me believe he’s not actually paying attention to what I am saying—he is really testing me right now. But I have four days left. Then the Californian sun will beam down on me, and the stress will just be a distant memory. “Anyways, you and Lan will do the Fan Zone after the Ferrari boys and then we have to film some bits for Unboxed and a…”

MOM: Don’t get worried but dad had a mild heart attack last night. Everything is good now, he’s just staying in the hospital for a couple of days.

My breath gets caught in my throat. Air stops going in and out of my lungs. My head gets foggy and just for a second, I swear I will pass out.

Dad?

“Sydney?” I can hear his voice. “Sydney? You okay?” Yeah, he’s here, he’s talking but I can’t really lookup from my phone and no words are coming out of my open mouth.

I keep reading, and reading, and reading the text I just got from my mother.

He’s in the hospital.

Heart attack.

My dad had a heart attack.

Suddenly I feel contact on my jaw and in half a second, I am looking into Daniel’s honey-brown eyes.

“Did you get lost?”

His tone is somehow soft and concerned at the same time, but a chuckle at the end of the question shows me the joking element in his question.

And then suddenly, it dawns on me that I am at work. I rip my face off from Daniel’s fingers and check the time on my phone’s screen. My eyes widen and in a flash I grab the work phone, my notebook and Daniel’s hand and attempt to run towards the Fan Zone.

“Woah, woah. Where are we going? You didn’t answer my question!”

I try to drag him through the motorhome’s hallways, but he’s way too strong, and I am so not, so we don’t move very far.

“We’re late. Work first, questions after.”

“You promise?”

- - - - - - -

He felt the impact from behind. He saw the wall coming. He anticipated the hit. But when it came to it, the pain shocked the air out of his lungs.

He couldn’t move for a while—hours it felt like. Daniel could hear the mechanics roaring in his ear but it seemed impossible to hit the radio button and speak to them.

His body buzzed in complain, it felt like his head would explode and he could barely keep his eyes open.

And the only thing that played like a broken record in rhythm with his speeding heart was simple.

There go 25 points off the Championship.

- - - - - - -

Sydney’s POV

He was leading the race, very comfortably. Charles who was about fifteen seconds behind him on second place was too busy trying to fend off Lando to even think about trying to get to Daniel. The race had about five laps to go, and everything seemed to be doing idyllically for the papaya boys.

Until Sergeant decided to fight Daniel off turn seven. He decided to ignore the blue flags waving at him and instead of letting the McLaren pass, Logan took it upon himself to be the first backmarker to fight for P1.

And with both drivers not letting up, the contact was inevitable.

Only Logan managed to shake it off and finish his race on a wonderful last place, after the ten-second-stop-go penalty he received for ignoring blue flags and causing a collision.

Seeing Daniel walk away from the car was a heavenly relief. My heart could barely cope with witnessing the crash. I don’t know how I’d react if he didn’t make it out on his two feet. The two minutes of pure, terrifying silence on his end before he answered to his engineer were torturous for everyone, including me.

After he made it to the pits after the necessary medical check-ups and talked a bit with everyone, he was dismissed to his driver’s room. I was advised not to approach him any time soon, as his media duties were minimized after such incident.

So I watched Charles win the race in front of the tifosi, Lando take second and Max come third, filmed some content with Lando and head straight to my hotel.

I was not used to seeing such crashes. And knowing that someone I…well, kind of cared about was involved in something like that, just, scared the shit out of me. My thoughts could only go to my brother who was fighting to get where Daniel and everyone in the grid are right now and…

I texted my brother and let him know I loved him. He replied with a thumbs up. It was enough for me.

Then my eyes lingered over another contact I only had because of my job, and only used for my job.

Daniel McLaren

Of course I wanted to text him. Especially after I didn’t see him at all after the crash. He might cause me multiple migraines over the week, but it was still Daniel.

Sorry if I’m bothering. I just wanted to see if you’re alright after today.

It’s Sydney, by the way.

The double text made me cringe, but I rather have that than a “Who is this?” sent my way.

But his answer was way worse than that.

No. Can you come to my hotel?

- - - - - - -

Hope you enjoyed!

[thewestern]

Chapter 17

Kitty pulled up in front, perpendicular to the green awning, like always. It was almost impossible to park in that alley, at night in particular. Three-point turns around Mayor Larry’s dumpster inevitably turned into five or six-step drunken square dances. Best avoided.

Effortlessly, the Mick unlocked the front door, for to let Zeke collect his backpack and Grace her leftover half-turkey sandwich. Kitty, for her part, hurriedly waddled past to finally go pee. 

Hank had wired the entire bar to one light switch, which any electrician would advise strenuously against. If the place burns down, so be it, was his thinking. He liked seeing the whole room lit up all of a sudden-like, like the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Plaza. It was pretty fucking sweet, in his defense. Ever the cynical prick, even the Mick still got a kick out of flicking that thing after all these years. From forward to aft, the Newfy came alive like fucking Frampton. Tonight, though, something was amiss, as the glowing ganglion seemed to have collapsed on itself unto some void — the lonely space on the wall behind the bar. 

Where’s Bertha? 

Who’s Bertha? 

The buffalo head. 

Huh. Grace didn’t give it a moment’s thought before bee-lining back to Hank’s office. Dutifully Zeke followed, leaving the Mick by himself to consider Bertha and her possible whereabouts. 

  Well, it was that the twins had closed up. The door had indeed been locked, not to mention that there hadn’t been any incident since the Immaculate Digestion, so there wasn’t any specific reason to raise suspicion. But then again, the Mick was certain Bertha had been there when he left. And you never could be too sure with those two, tweedle dee and tweedle dickhead. He thought to text them, but then thought the better. After all, they had taken the double after a long Feist Weekend. There was no sign of struggle, but for all he knew one of them — likely Louey — had ripped Bertha off the wall and used her horns to gore t’other — Thad, in this scenario. (Why, yes, female bison do have horns. For a fact, horn size and shape are the most reliable means of which to discern a yearling bull from a mature cow. The former horn is thicker at the base, whereas the latter is of thinner diameter with a more pronounced inward curve at the tip.) Whatever the story was, it could damn well wait till morning. 

Across from her abdicated throne, the Mick plopped himself on the barstool. Kitty sidled up beside him, feeling relieved now for the first time in forty-five minutes. Or really, it had been the better part of forty-eight hours. Hell, who are we kidding? The last four fucking months she’d been depressed. That was how bad she’d had to go. A trip to the restroom had changed her entire perspective on life, for the second time in two days. Maybe whatever was coming wouldn’t be so bad. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He was probably even moreso relieved to receive her warmth than she had been to provide it. Together, they looked up at the hole in the wall. 

Where’s Bertha? 

Before the Mick could answer in the inconclusive, a thunderous clash sounded from back the brewhouse. So loud they both shot up from their seats, as if they had been erroneously ejected from a Cavness Baumann fighter jet. (Somewhat controversially, CB’s latest and greatest in fixed-wing military aircraft, the Thunder Rider III, was rushed through production to fill orders of unnamed foreign government clients. This despite repeated cost overruns and myriad safety concerns, including an ejector seat malfunction that per the company line, posed a high-probability risk of fatal injury for pilots weighing between one hundred fifty and two hundred pounds. Unofficially, the cause of death in such cases was thought to be decapitation, on account of the cockpit window not deploying with enough acceleration, so that the crash test mannequin’s head would be ejected into it.) 

The smiles cascaded from their face, like water over a steep fall, they looked at one another once more, this time as if to affirm proof of life. Then they rushedly shimmied around the bar for the swinging saloon doors, to see what was all the matter. 

In the second and a half that mad dash took, they each found the time to consider their respective worst-case scenarios. To the Mick it sounded pretty fucking bad, dude, insofar as it had sounded at all. Because other than the occasional rattling of empty kegs, or the whooshing and sloshing of water and wort — brewing required frequent bathroom breaks — beer making was an altogether quiet enterprise. You really didn’t want to make anything go boom. The Mick assumed the fifteen-barrel fermenter had finally fallen directly atop of Zeke, like an Acme anvil. God bless him, but since the day he started the kid was a walking OSHA violation. It wasn’t so much that he was clumsy, which he also was, considerably, but really that he was too physically large to bob and weave around the many overhanging obstacles. Brewing was a welterweight sport, by the Mick’s estimation — middleweight, at most. Zeke was every bit a heavyweight, tipping the scales at three bills with some lbs to spare. (He wore it very well, though.) In his two-month tenure as assistant brewer, he had bumped his head badly, stubbed his toe severely, twisted his ankle terribly, and got himself stuck in the mash tun. The brewhouse had come alive to fulfill a death curse against him, the Mick and Zeke both thought independently of each other. Here she had finally finished the job.

Kitty, meanwhile, thought back on every science kit experiment or model rocket launch gone awry, multiplied by some catastrophic factor. If you’re enough of a science virgin, you know that pretty much anything can be a bomb. Household appliances, vehicles of all kinds, certain types of foods. Make no mistake — there are explosive charges all around us, just waiting to be set off. And if you’re a brewer? Well then congratulations, you’re basically Bobby fucking Oppenheimer. Compressed gasses, scalding hot liquids, metal … everywhere. Only difference between a homebrewer and a meth cook is a mouthful of teeth, Russ was fond of saying. And a whole lot of fun, Hank appended. 

Having considered then beyond the realm of what was even feasible, imagine their surprise to find a car, parked partway inside the brewery. Sure enough it had crashed straight through the brick, where it had made a perfect sedan-sized cut out in the wall. 

The Mick’s focus downshifted to Grace, whom he now was certain had something to do with this. This was her all over. One day you're making out at work, the next you’re bulldozing a car through the damn building. Goddamnit he wasn’t ever cut out to be a manager, and here was the proof. Worst of all she probably flattened poor Zeke in the process like a pancake, knowing his predilection for being in exactly the wrong place at precisely the wrong fucking time. And two wrongs do not a right make, as Russ could well attest. Like Grace, Russ’s wrongs had a habit of compounding. 

But then by god’s Grace, she and Zeke emerged unscathed out from Hank’s office, whence upon Kitty exhaled an even deeper sigh of relief. Still though, none of them four had breathed a fucking word yet. They approached the car slowly, as if It might explode, the way Kitty knew it well fucking could. Tepidly, Grace and Zeke got to clearing the driver’s side door, which was visibly obstructed by various debres, so as to extricate whatever sorry drunk had crashed his car into a bar. Well after Last Call, at that. Not to mention they didn’t even serve the hard stuff anyhow. (Who the hell ever got drunk off of beer? Russ was wont to ask, often himself drunk off of beer. Never be the answer to your own stupid question, is a good rule of thumb.) With the removal of some rubble, the winged door opened.

There she is, Mick said to Kitty.  

Here he was answering her previous question about Bertha, the taxidermied American Bison, who was the sole occupant of the car, situated behind the wheel like she just was out on a drive, her horns hovering at ten and two. Ridin’ dirty. And as if that weren’t enough for this evening of stupid pet tricks, right then Mayor Larry the dumpster cat hopped on out of the sunroof, slid down the extralegally- tinted windshield on his hind legs and scampered off to someplace like nothing had happened at all.

(To this day, nobody knows for certain what caused the car to careen into the building like that. There is speculation though that Billy had triggered a sequence of events by accidentally initiating the autopilot sequence to back the car out of its spot. The buffalo weighed approximately sixty pounds, the maximum Billy could carry and coincidentally the minimum required to assure the sensors under the white pleather upholstery that there was a human-sized driver behind the wheel. [Only sixty pounds, you ask? Well consider that the scale can’t calculate your entire weight from a seated position. Also, there are Little Persons who are more than capable drivers, provided they have adequate adaptive assistance functions, such as hand-controlled braking and acceleration, and a booster seat.] Once it had backed out to the alley wall behind it, the autopilot’s front-facing camera may have then been fooled by the presence of a hyper-realistic mural painted by the Mick on the Newfy’s rear wall, of a desert road stretching out on a long straightaway into a vast desert landscape, with a corresponding speed limit sign that read seventy-five miles per hour, which the autopilot cameras misinterpreted to be photorealistic. From there it would have been off to the races. Meep meep, mother fucker.

Mayor Larry’s role in all of this, meanwhile, remains a mystery. Maybe he put it into gear. If any cat could drive it’d be him.) 

Grace had never seen Bertha this close up before, face to face, being on the petiter side herself, a line she towed with stoutness. So whereas she looked up to most, including Bertha, now she was looking her dead in her big buffalo eye. How come it was that animals had the saddest, deep brown, watery eyes? Did they evolve that way intentionally, so as to engender sympathy from us humans? If so, nice try. Not all animals had such kind eyes though. Cats and snakes, to name just two. They didn’t have a bit of sadness behind their eyes. Menace, more like. Or maybe just they’re the eyes of a critter who sees the world for what it truly is, and it turns their gaze all steely. Sasha’s pet python stretch had definitely looked at Grace some type of way. Like she knew all manner of deep dark secrets. They were on the tip of her forked tongue. Lean in closer and she’ll tell you.

Ever the professional, Zeke got out his phone and snapped a pic. It made a loud, electronic noise, mimicking a shutter on a film camera. The flash was on as well. It reflected off the glass that didn’t blink. In the photo it was blood red.  

A bit of silent contest ensued. Loser speaks first. Suppose there’s not much To Say, Really. Not at a time like this. Although surely Russ would have had some witty repartee about a one-car stampede, or some bullshit like that. Asking the buffalo to exchange insurance information. Hardy, har, har. Hey, Russ, how about just shut the fuck up one time? This shit’s serious.

Suddenly, someone else’s phone sounded. This time it was a custom ringtone. 

Bone, Bone, Bone, Bone

Bone, Bone, Bone, Bone, Bone

Kitty rotated her head like an owl in search of the lyrics’ source, but the metallic echo made them hard to triangulate. She bent down to look under the car. Nada. Then back over by Mick’s desk. Still nothing. It was coming from inside the brewery, that was obvious. The ringing continued: 

Now tell me, what ya gonna do

(Now, tell me what...)

When it ain't nowhere to run

When judgment comes for you

When judgment comes for you?

Like a beer you been nursing, Kitty was still cold but getting warmer. She walked around the big fermenter in the corner — Baby — which was mere millimeters from being toppled over by the car, thus triggering a flash flood of suds. And wouldn’t that’ve been a crying shame. This morning the Mick had racked one of his personal favorites for the fall season, Porter Manteau. 

Now tell me, what ya gonna do

(Now, tell me what...)

When it ain't nowhere to hide

When judgment comes for you

'Cause it's gonna come for you?

None of the other three moved a muscle. Frozen stiff, they were. Kitty pressed her head against the brew kettle now. Marco?

Let's all bring it in for Wally, Eazy sees uncle Charlie

Little boo, god's got him and I'm gonna miss everybody

I only roll with bone my gang look to where they lay

When playin' with destiny, plays too deep for me to say

Polo, mother f-er. Kitty ascended the short step ladder to the brew deck. Peering into the glass-covered manway, the vessel appeared all but empty. Knowing better, she unscrewed the handles, lifted the pressurized door and poked her head in. 

There he was. Seated Indian style against the stainless steel wall. Trying frantically to silence his phone, banging away at all the wrong buttons. This happened routinely in work settings and he always required tech support for shutting it off. It came with the territory, the curse of living on consumer technology’s cutting edge. Come time you figure out how this new one works, it’s time for an upgrade, ba-by. One of Billy’s many burdens. Where the fuck was Yayo-L when you needed him? Not in this giant can. And how many fucking Bone Thugz verses were on this ringtone?

Who are you? 

Billy said all that followed without looking up with his phone, his face hidden beneath the flat brim of his black snapback that read Raiders in white embroidered cursive, at a volume that would have been imperceptible to the human ear were it not being amplified by all this stainless steel.

Who is you? I am him You are now talking to Billy The Kid, AKA the BTK Killah. Big Willie Tre Stacks in the mother fucking building. It’s World War the Third in this bitch. That’s right we’re dropping bombs on these haters. WMDs, boy. You already know what it is. 

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 4

AN: I’m sorry I missed posting last week. I’m currently going through a hard break up and it’s really taking a lot of energy out of me so I struggle to write at the moment. 

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: You return to Boston for the week. 

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Some strong language

You smiled as you looked at the copies of ‘Chess Review’ on the racks. 

Your first front page piece for Chess Review. 

They had used one of the pictures of Benny that you had taken at the hotel and you were pretty proud of your photography skills. 

You picked up a copy and took it inside to pay for it. 

On second thought, you picked up two so you could mail one to Angelie. 

You left the store quickly after and started to walk back to your apartment. 

Boston was busier than you had remembered and you finally had some time to sort out the apartment after your article went down well with the big man. 

You opened the door to your apartment and put down your groceries on the kitchen counter top. 

The last tenant hadn’t left the place in too bad a state, just a carpet stain here and there and a broken lamp. 

You had bought some paint to redecorate your living room and bedroom since it seemed too boring after where you lived in Paris. You had spent the last couple days painting and then you finally left to go check out your title page. 

The books that Benny had given you were still on your small two person dining room table where you had left them when you first got back. You looked over at them and furrowed your brow as you thought about whether you are actually going to bother to read them or not. 

Your phone started to ring and your frown disappeared when you realised it was probably Angelie. No one else had your number besides your work. 

“Hello?” You answered it, taking the phone off the wall as you leant beside it. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere after listening to it so much over the last tournament. 

“Benny Watts?” You asked, almost in shock. 

“Have you read those books I leant you yet?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm it was him. 

“It’s been four days.” You told him flatly. 

“You could’ve easily gotten through at least two of them by now.” Benny challenged you which caused you to shake your head (even though he couldn’t see). 

“You know, Benny Watts, I do have a life to live.” You defended yourself to which Benny found amusing. 

“So, you’re back in Boston since you picked up this phone.” Benny changed the subject completely. 

“How did you even get this number?” You asked, genuinely curious and a little worried. 

“You really think Chess Review won’t hand over your telephone number to their favourite US chess player?” 

“You got it from Beth Harmon then?”  You teased the boy to which he responded with a dry laughter. 

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” Benny retorted, “If you’re in Boston, it means you currently aren’t working. Fancy an educational trip to New York City?” 

“Benny, I told you. I’m not coming to New York.” You reminded him about how you declined previously when he asked. 

“Come on, just for the weekend? We’ll play some chess, do some tourist shit and eat some food?” Benny asked, trying his best to persuade you Benny Watts style. 

“I’ve also told you before that I don’t play.” You felt a small bubble of excitement in your stomach as you considered going to New York but you quickly squashed it down. 

“What are you afraid of?” Benny asked. Deja Vu. 

“Why are you pushing this?” You closed your eyes as you let your head roll back to press against the wall. 

“Because I see that same light that’s in Beth Harmon, that’s in every decent chess player when you see a chess board.” Benny confessed to you. 

“I’m sorry, Benny. You’ll just have to find someone else to play with. I don’t want to be apart of this little game.” You hung up the phone with a sad sigh before Benny could respond. 

You found yourself looking at the books again. 

You picked up Benny’s and you opened it...

“I’ve been waiting all day for your call.” You half scolded Angelie as you answered the call. 

You heard Angelie’s laughter through the phone and it made you home sick. 

“Je suis désolé!” Angie apologised. “This new project has me so busy, constantly on set, costume changes, make up changes, redoing scene..!” 

“It sounds awful.”  You chuckled, 

“It is! You wouldn’t understand... You’re just a big time American journalist.” Angelie pouted. “Anyway, how are you?” 

“I’m okay.” You lied. 

“Menteuse!” Angelie called you out. “Tell me the truth. What is bothering you, Mon Cher?” 

“Benny Watts called me today.” You had filled her in on the tournament with him once you had first arrived back in Boston and she had already previously told you off for not taking his offer to New York. 

“He did?!” Angie gasped. 

“Yes, he did. He got my number through work and called me to ask if I had read the books he gave me which I haven’t because it’s been less than a week since. the tournament.” You explained. 

“That boy is in love with you, I am telling you now.” Angie was always the hopeless romantic type. It’s how she has had her heart broke so many times. 

“The boy wants to play chess with me to assert his masculine dominance over me and boost his ego with an easy win.” You argued. 

“You are always so negative about men! You hardly know this one!” Angelie groaned. 

“He’s Benny Watts. That’s all I need to know.” 

“I think you should go to New York and meet with him.” Angelie told you. You hadn’t even informed her about the fact he asked you again. 

“I think I should stay here and enjoy my first weekend off in six months.” You shook your head at the idea. 

“(Y/n), you only live once and how many girls are invited to New York by the Benny Watts?!” 

“Probably quite a lot.” You knew Angie was only trying to hype you up but you couldn’t help but knock her down. 

“Even if that is so. You could probably get another article out of it. Benny Watts and his life in the big apple?” Angie suggested. 

“I’m sure ‘LIFE’ has already done that piece before.” You pushed another idea aside. 

“Trust me, (Y/n). You need to stop being so afraid of the unknown and who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself?” Angelie had had enough of the negativity from you at this point. 

There was a sudden knock at your door. 

“I’m sorry, Angie. Someone’s just knocked on my door, I’ll have to call you back.” You looked over at your front door and wondered who it could be. 

“Ça va. Call me back!” She told you as the knock occurred again. 

“Je t'aime.” You hung the phone back up on the wall and went over to your door. 

You opened it and you felt your face go white at the sight of who stood there. 

“Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Benny Watts. 

BENNY WATTS.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him. 

“Well,  you wouldn’t come to me so I came to you.” Benny shrugged. 

“You can’t just stalk someone. This isn’t okay. This isn’t cute!” You were bewildered. 

“This isn’t stalking. It’s simply coming to Boston to visit a friend.” He defended himself as he stood out in the hallway. 

“I wouldn’t call us friends, Benny.” You scoffed. 

“Ouch.” Benny put his hand on his heart. 

You went to close your door on him but Benny stopped you. 

“Wait.” He pleaded. His cocky demeanour suddenly dropped. “Look, I know this is weird but I really wanted to see you.” Benny started to explain. 

“I––” He cut you short. 

“–– This isn’t some game. I just want to help you. I want you to play chess again. I want you to play with me.” Benny stayed with his hand against the door and his foot in the gap as he spoke. 

“This is crazy, Benny.” You told him, your eyes locked on his as you felt your heart race. 

“I know.” Benny stepped back. “I’m staying in the hotel down the block. I’ll be here all weekend. If you don’t want to see me, then don’t. But if you change your mind. I’ll be around.” 

You watched him back away from the door and head back down the stairs. 

Benny fucking Watts. 

You rushed back to the phone and dialled Angelie’s number. 

“Bonjour?” She answered, 

“You’ll never guess who was at the door.” 

You ended up tossing and turning all night. 

You caved in at around 3am and started to read Benny’s book again. 

You finished it by the time the sun was rising. 

You had a cold shower to wake you up at around 9am and then you stared in the mirror as the thoughts racked your brain. 

You walked over to your chess set that rested on the dresser top and you took it over to your bed, opening it up. 

You set up the board and stared at it.  

You picked up the queen. The same queen that Benny had held in the photo you took. 

You caved. 

You dressed and did simple make up before heading to the hotel that Benny had told you he was staying. 

“I’m looking for Mr Benny Watts.” You asked the elderly lady at the front desk. 

“He’s staying in room 306 but I’m almost certain I saw him leave about an hour ago for breakfast.” She informed you. 

You thanked her then sighed. 

You left the hotel lobby and started down the street. There was plenty of places to eat around the hotel, you almost considered just waiting in the lobby for him to return. 

Then you saw it. 

Through a window of a small diner. 

The famous black hat. 

You pushed open the diner door and walked towards the booth where Benny was sat. 

He had his back to you but he didn’t seem surprised to see you when you sat down opposite him.  

“Morning.” He greeted you as he munched on some pancakes. 

“I won’t play chess with you.” You stated. “I won’t play chess with you but I will spend the weekend with you and you can talk about it.”

Benny remained silent as his brown eyes watched you carefully. 

“I finished your book.” You told him. “I'm ready to learn.” 

Benny placed his knife and fork down, picking up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth. 

“Great.” He nodded, interlinking his fingers above his food as he elbows rested on the table.  “Let’s begin.” 

(WHAT HAPPENS NEXT HERE)

TAG LIST

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[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.9k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm

Masterlist link here 

AO3 link here 

Author’s Note: And we’re at the final chapter! Thank you so much for going on this wild ride with me, and I’m rly excited to hear what you guys think - so please, drop me an ask, a note, a comment, anything!!! 

It takes time and effort to rebuild a home wrecked by a storm, and reconstruction efforts aren’t necessarily smooth sailing, especially at the start - after all, he’s still the same Miya Atsumu, arrogant and brash and foulmouthed and hyper focused on volleyball, and they both have baggage from years of regret and pain to work through. But he has determination to spare, and she loves him too much for her own good, so they start from the very foundation and work their way up, step by step, one day at a time. 

‘I’ll kill ya if ya ever hurt her again’, Osamu threatens darkly when she and Atsumu break the news to him. 

‘Go find yer own girl and stop being sweet on my wife damn it! ’ Atsumu growls, but the kiss he presses to her forehead when she smacks the back of his head for being mean to his twin is achingly sweet. 

‘Ugh, soppy. Get yer shit outta my house!’ Osamu scrunches his face in mock disgust. 

Both brothers are surprised when she beats Atsumu at flipping Osamu off. 

Atsumu moves back home (he’s not even going to hide how happy the sound of that makes him), and they mark the occasion by slipping his wedding ring back on his finger and eating take-out pizza on the living room floor. 

Her burly brothers turn up on their doorstep with a glint in their eyes and too much teeth in their smiles, determined to drag Atsumu off for a couple of drinks and what she assumes will be a very unpleasant chat. She’d insisted on patting them down to make sure they’re not packing any knives - ‘what do you take us for, little sis’, they’d protested - but she’s not taking any chances, and begs Osamu to join them, ‘please ‘Samu, I don’t want to be a widow right after I decide not to divorce his ass’, and he agrees despite grumbling that he might as well be Atsumu’s glorified babysitter at this rate. 

She’d woken up in bed the next morning to find the space beside her empty, but the living room crammed full of those four silly men. Atsumu and Osamu share a single futon between them, snoring back to back. There are faint bruises on Atsumu’s cheekbone and telltale scrapes on her own brothers’ knuckles, but otherwise they all seem relatively unscathed. 

She bends over, tracing her thumb along the contour of Atsumu’s jaw, and he stirs, eyes half lidded with sleep. 

‘Hey darlin', I’ve come home’, he tells her, warmth flickering in his smile. 

‘Welcome home, 'Tsumu’, she says, tucking the blanket under his chin and he hums in contentment, falling back asleep. 

His nightmares of brown envelopes and harsh neon lights distorting her face slowly fade, and he dreams instead of weeknight dinners and weekend picnics at the park, relishing the quiet domesticity of grocery trips and laundry loads, and delighting in home games with her and Shino cheering him on.

Some piss poor excuse of a gossip hound corners him after a match to ask him about whether he regrets leaving for Milan since his season ended in injury - and he freezes when the reporter slyly adds ‘especially since we all knew it’s a move that required you to leave your wife and daughter behind ‘. His manager is about to intervene when she sneaks up on him to slide an arm around his waist, apologising to the reporter that ‘she’s just so excited to give her husband a congratulatory kiss!’ . 

Sakusa and Meian have to join forces to pull Atsumu back from punching the reporter when he grins shark-like, thinking he’s spotted easy prey and asks her whether she felt abandoned in Japan due to his move - ‘pardon me Miya-san for my unwieldy choice of words’. 

‘Not at all’, she says without missing a beat, and Atsumu wonders if he imagines the flash of a knife in her smile. ‘I’ve always supported my husband in all his endeavours. It was a joint decision that I should stay in Japan to ensure our daughter has some stability in her life.'

‘She’s good’, his manager tells him when the reporter slinks away with his tail between his legs. 

‘Yeah - I don’t deserve her’, he answers with a rueful smile. 

When he tries to thank her that night, she levels him with a look that could knock a grown man (i.e. him) off his feet, but her voice is gentle and her words are soft. 

‘Don’t thank me’, she says. ‘Just be a better husband and father, ok?’ 

He’s not ashamed to admit that he actually cries. 

He learns to tell her he loves her at least once a day. She starts to smile back cheekily and reply ‘of course’. 

The game is in between sets when the skin at the back of his neck crackles with nerves. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Osamu sprinting right into the stands. Then his ears pick up on his little girl’s scream - ‘mama’  she cries, her shrill voice ringing above the confusion rippling through the crowd and his legs move of their own accord, leaping over the barrier into the audience, as he snarls and shoves his way to her usual spot. 

He thought he’s had his fill of nightmares to last him a lifetime. He’s evidently wrong. 

She lies crumpled on the ground, head resting on Osamu’s lap. Her lips are pale and her eyes are closed but thank god - thank whichever deity’s listening - her chest still moves with her breath. He’s not quite sure what happens next - he knows he dives to his knees and pulls her towards him but everything else is a blur until her eyes flutter open and she groans. 

‘Darlin’, can ya hear me? Can ya tell me where you are?’ he asks, forcing his voice to remain calm. 

‘Tsumu? Why are you here? Aren’t you in the middle of a game?’ she murmurs, confused. 

‘Fuck the game’, he snaps. ‘Are ya feelin' ok?’ 

‘Something hurts, Tsumu’, she rasps, eyes glazing over. He can feel the chill of ice seep into his spine. 

'Yer fine, yer fine, yer going to be fine' he mutters, over and over and over again, willing her to sit up and tell him she's fine, she's ok, she'll just shake it off - but light starts to shutter out of her eyes and frost creeps up his throat. 

‘I need a medic!’ he shouts, voice cracking on every word. ‘I need a medic, now!’

‘Tsumu’, he hears his brother interrupt urgently. ‘Tsumu, she’s bleedin’. 

He’s never been more grateful for Osamu when his twin turns to yell for an ambulance and yanks Shino away with him. The little girl is kicking and screaming for her mama but he knows she would kill him if he lets their little girl be traumatised from seeing her mama lying in a pool of blood on the floor. 

He can’t breathe - not even when the medics finally come and whisk her off to the hospital, his mind hardly able to process anything, terror still coursing through his veins when the doctors press brown envelopes full of forms into his bloodstained hands for him to sign so the relevant procedures can be carried out. 

‘Don’t!’ Osamu says sharply, when he drops his head into his hands and starts to whimper about how he’ll die if he loses her again and what the fuck is he gonna do, ‘Samu, if she doesn’t make it out alive – ‘she’s stronger than ya think, don’t ya dare give up on her like that’, and he promptly shuts up after that. Time in the waiting room passes agonizingly slow, seconds feeling like minutes, minutes stretching into hours, and he would have drowned from the weight of his despair if he weren’t anchored in place by his twin’s hand on his back.

His breath rushes back into his lungs when the doctors later tell him she’s fine,  they carried out the standard operation - but she doesn’t look fine, doesn’t seem fine, is very clearly not fine when they wheel her out, huddled into a ball with her head between her knees, like her world has just collapsed into itself. She doesn’t even look up when he sits beside her, the bed dipping under his weight. 

‘I’m sorry’, she eventually says, voice barely a whisper, and he fights the urge to break down into tears – because ‘Samu’s right, she’s so much stronger than he thinks. They'd been talking about trying for a sibling for Shino for some time now, since they've both grown up with brothers of their own and can't imagine life without them. But the doctors tell him that it’s just bad luck - the baby was never going to survive, and her collapse was probably exacerbated by stress, overwork, perhaps even fatigue from her skipping lunch for work and dinner to rush to his match.

‘Don’t be. It’s not yer fault at all’, he manages to pull himself together to reassure her, but she just stares blankly at the wall. 

His grandmother calls when they find out the baby they lost would have been a boy, and he fails her again when he’s too late to snatch the phone away before the old lady’s poison drips into her ears and traps her in a deadly fog. He’d cursed the old bitch out relentlessly, but the toxic words fester beneath her skin and she fades into a ghost before his eyes. He desperately tries to stop her spiral into frozen silence, but he’s away for games more than half the time, hands tied behind his back by the stranglehold of contracts and commitments he has no choice but to fulfil. 

He’s never been so thankful before when the season finally ends - but he is, at least this time, so he can talk her into taking two weeks off from work. They drop Shino off with her indulgent grandparents, and drift down the coast on the back of her bike. She doesn’t try breaking any speed limits - and he knows he should be happy about that, but there’s no spark in her eyes, no smile to answer the wind - there hasn’t been, not since she collapsed. 

(not since they lost their child)

He buys her mochi at every town, but she picks at it listlessly, just like she does these days when Osamu tries to tempt her with his latest creations. He insists they stay at  ryokans, traditional inns with onsens attached, hoping the heat from the water might chase the chill from her bones, but colour does not return to her cheeks. There are shadows beneath her eyes, and she seems to wilt under the vibrant red and gold of autumn leaves. 

They go for a walk after dinner one night, tracing a path along the shore. He’d been talking non-stop the entire trip to mask the gaps left by her silence, but tonight he falls quiet, allowing the hum of the waves to wash over them. Her hand is cold in his, so he wraps his jacket around her shoulders and hopes the warmth from his body bleeds into hers. 

She comes to a standstill, feet sinking in the sand, and tilts her head to face him. 

‘Tsumu?’, she breathes, a question in her eyes. 

‘I’m here’, he says, a prayer in his heart. 

There is a lighthouse on the cliff just a few miles ahead, illuminating the shadows of the waves. The faintest reflection of light pools in her eyes, and he stills as she lifts her gaze to meet his. 

‘I know’, she says, offering him the smallest of smiles. 

He interlaces their fingers together firmly, and tugs her towards shelter, as a storm brews over the horizon. 

That night she tucks her head under his chin, and he holds her until she falls asleep, cradled in his arms. He keeps slumber at bay by counting her breaths, and only falls asleep himself when the storm breaks. 

'Why did I wake up to a blonde octopus wrapped around me', she mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. 

'Nah. More like a seahorse, cos I'm not letting ya go, sweetheart', he replies, tightening his grip on her waist. 'Ya got a problem with that?' 

Her only response is to burrow herself deeper into his chest.

'Guess not', he chuckles fondly, nuzzling his nose into her hair, hope blossoming anew in his heart. 

Time turns their wounds into scars and they heal together, one breath at a time. 

She stays away from their first few matches when the season begins again. The press is coerced into passing over reports of her collapse by the dual forces of the MSBY press machine and their legal team, but they are forced to ride out the gossip generated in internet forums by a fringe group of deranged fans. His teammates treat her like she’s made of glass - even Bokuto dials himself down a notch, all save for Shoyo, who slips her his mother’s number, telling her gently that the six year gap between him and Natsu wasn’t deliberate, and that she would find a sympathetic ear in the older woman. 

He knew he was right to anoint Shoyo as his favourite wing spiker - not only does he fly high enough to answer the demand of every single one of his sets, but his sunniness drags her out of the fog into yoga classes and meditation practices, and slowly but surely he watches her bloom again. It’s a powerful combination - Shoyo-kun’s friendship and his mother’s gentle conversations, Osamu’s cooking and her love for Shino, capped with his determination to show her he loves her and prove that he’s here to stay.

‘It’s like Kintsugi’, she tells him, with a wide smile. ‘All of you poured gold into the cracks of my heart and made me whole again’. 

The years pass. 

Shino turns seven – a very respectable age for his very best girl, he tells her (I'm your only girl, Papa, Shino informs him archly), and obliges her demands of a bicycle in MSBY colours and volleyball lessons, forcing all his teammates to turn up for her birthday party, volleyball themed of course. The look of unadulterated joy on his princess’ face is worth every ounce of effort to put up with Sakusa’s complaints at having to turn up for a kiddie party full of loud noises and far too much candy, and the sweaty afternoons spent hand painting the bicycle black and gold. 

The day Atsumu discovers his first white hair makes her thank her lucky stars that she’s immune to his nonsense by now, because the wailing and gnashing of teeth she has to put up with makes ‘Samu offer her his couch as refuge. She slaps tape and salonpas on his aches and pains, and points to the deepening lines on her face when he complains about his age. 

‘Those lines aren’t wrinkles. If they’re caused by laughter, it doesn’t count’, he reasons laughingly. She’s left befuddled by his logic and shakes her head.

Meian Shugo retires, and Hinata throws a party to celebrate in his honour, cramming the entire MSBY team and assorted friends into his penthouse apartment on a rainy Saturday night. Osamu’s hired to cater the food but remains as a guest, shooting a smirk at him when Shoyo drags her off to dance during his favourite song, twin flames burning bright in the night. 

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ she asks, when Shoyo returns with her breathless but wreathed with smiles. 

‘Was just wondering when you were gonna save a dance for this old man’, he teases. 

‘Oh?’ she says with a laugh. ‘Thought you said your back hurt, and you didn’t want to move?’

‘Meh - I was hoping you’d forget that’, he says airily, then frowns when he notices there’s no drink in her hand. 

‘Not drinking tonight, sweetheart?’, he asks, curling his fingers around her empty hand. 

‘The doctor warned me not too’, she answers, her smile growing impossibly wider. He blinks in confusion when she leans on to her toes to whisper into his ear - then oh. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ he repeats, unable to trust his ears, eyes filling with tears when she bites her lips and nods. 

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’, she asks, her face alight with hope. 

There is so much he wants to say to her, starting with thank you loving me enough to give me another chance all those years ago and ending with I love you, so ridiculously much – because he can never say it enough, she’s given him more than he deserves – her heart, Shino, a happy home and now the promise of another child. 

But there's salt and water welling up in his throat, and it’s all he can do to choke out a shaky ‘of course’, before gathering her in his arms, warmth pooling in his eyes, love overflowing in his heart. 

They stay that way for most of the night, entwined in each other’s arms, so drunk on happiness and love and warmth that they don’t even notice the storm clearing and the moon rising in the clear night sky. 

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 10

Masterlist

Shoutout to my bestie @acollectionofficsandshit for all the drunk comments she made while betaing this one... Wish you guys could see them lol

Word Count: 4.8k

Recommended song: “Amnesia" by 5SOS

Pierre paces in his dinky trailer at the Circuit of the Americas and desperately tries to forget you exist. He had already taken down the pictures on the wall but the images were burned into his brain. He had shoved your shirt under his bed, having absolutely no idea how it had made its way halfway around the world to taunt him.

He was slowly unraveling like a spool of thread on a loom as you wove him irrevocably into the tapestry of your life.

The race in Austin started in less than two hours and you hadn't texted him. Not once in the handful of years he'd known you had you neglected to wish him luck before a race, even if it was 2 am your time or you had exams, you always took thirty seconds to warn him to be safe and finish well.

He was beginning to think you hated him for how he'd acted at the gala last weekend, jealous and possessive from afar. Talking to you would have been the better choice. But seeing you laugh and dance the night away had hurt too much. He’d slipped out early after Victoria assured him she could find a ride and sped home to fall apart.

He had only barely managed to piece himself together in time for the race.

Pierre checks his phone for the third time in as many minutes and swears under his breath. He didn't know why he expected it to ring and for your face to pop up at this point. Even if you called to tear into him, he'd still fall to his knees at the sound of your voice. He just wanted to hear you speak, didn't care what was said, only that he could latch onto your words and lose himself in them.

Hope sparks when his phone chimes but he nearly throws it across the trailer when he sees Charles' name.

Heard from her yet?

No. At this point I'm beginning to think I never will again.

Maybe she fell asleep early?

It's 5 pm in London. I'll bet you she's eating a bowl of takeout from the Chinese place down the street, not sleeping.

Its still possible. Don't dwell on it. This isn't the headspace you wanna be in before a race. Block it out. I don't wanna see my best friend wind up hurt today.

Pierre didn't reply, if only because Charles was right. Worrying would get him nowhere. After his shitty qualifying yesterday, he started thirteenth on the grid so he had his work cut out for him. Austin offered plenty of opportunity for overtakes; he could get the job done if his team made the right calls. 

And if he made it to the podium, you would have to text him.

The thin mattress groans when he sits to unlace his hastily tied race boots. He folds his legs to sit criss cross and places his palms on his knees. The familiar pose already has some of the tension leaving his shoulders as his eyes slide shut. He breathes in for ten seconds, reflecting on what ails him. He holds the breath for five seconds before releasing it slowly.

He repeats the process until he comes to terms with the fact that you won't be wishing him luck. That was your choice; there was nothing he could do about it and therefore no sense reading into it. He had done all he could to convince you to trust him. The ball was in your court; he had to be patient and wait for you to take a shot.

“Focus,” he murmurs to himself, forcing any erroneous thoughts from his head. “Walk through the track.”

The circuit at Austin was challenging, consisting of a mix of 20 sweeping corners and scattered hairpins. He was almost lucky in a way to be starting so far back on the grid because turn one was only a few hundred meters from pole and their tires would be slightly colder and less grippy upon arrival than his would be. The few extra seconds afforded to him by starting thirteenth could mean the opportunity to leap frog past his rivals in the first corner.

The counterclockwise circuit meant he would have to keep an eye on his front left tire too, as it would wear faster than the others. He'd change gears an average of 66 times per lap, higher than similar length tracks like Monaco. Pit stops cost an average of nineteen seconds, meaning he would need to build a significant gap to the driver chasing him in order to avoid the threat of any undercuts.

There were too many variables occupying space in his mind to afford you a sliver of it.

Some time later he decides that his four leaf clover tucked safely in the worn leather of his wallet will provide all the luck he needs and switches on his pre race playlist after popping in his ear buds.

"Sights on the podium," he murmurs to himself, hand on the doorknob. "Let's race."

The bass flows through him as his feet carry him to the Alpha Tauri garage on autopilot, through the back entrance and to his plain white driver room. The familiar beats are a numbing salve spread on his frayed nerves, his anticipation rising like a crimson wave in his veins. He leaves his clothes in a haphazard heap in the corner and changes into the white fireproofs hanging nearby, thoughts momentarily veering to you knocking on the door and stripping them right back off.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he runs through his usual stretch sets until Pyry arrives to walk him through reflex exercises.

"How's your head?" Pyry asks, running him through more cool down stretches. "Do we need to take a minute and do some meditation?"

"Beat you to it," Pierre grunts out, pushing back against the hand on his head to work his neck. "I'm good."

"You sound better than you have all week, I'll give you that. Keep that focus, use it to propel yourself forward."

"Run me through the lineup again," Pierre requests, "I need something else to think about."

Because if he let his mind follow the path it wanted to, it would inevitably lead to you and undo the work he had done to avoid that. He needed to be empty of anything that wasn't racing, anything else was an unnecessary distraction that had the potential to end in disaster.

Pyry rattles off the grid in order of who Pierre needs to overtake, pausing between each name to give him time to recall their driving styles and potential chinks in their armor to exploit. He knew from tapes of previous years that Stroll often ran wide into turn one, giving Pierre the option to brake late and sweep up the inside. Vettel was half convinced the track was cursed, so his mind would work against him enough that Pierre could exploit it and get past at some point. He continued until he got to Hamilton and Max locking out the front row, where he would need a bit of luck to overtake.

"You got it?" Pyry asks, stepping back.

Pierre rolls his shoulders and nods. 

"Get shit done mate," Pyry says and bumps fists with his driver. He slips out to allow Pierre a moment to center himself before slipping into his race suit, leaving it half unzipped and tying it around his waist before following his trainer.

Pyry leads the way to where the matte navy and white car waits, mechanics swarming it like studious worker bees tending to their queen. No one talks to him save his engineer because words from anyone else threaten to break his carefully constructed race mentality. If they wanted him to bring home points, they knew to leave him alone once he was suited up.

His mind is blank of anything but statistics as he twists his ear buds in and pulls on his balaclava and helmet. As his vision narrows to the sliver of track he can see through his visor, so does his focus. With forty minutes to lights out, he's directed out onto the track. He rips the wheel to the right as he exits the garage, getting a decent powerslide for his efforts.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would land on the podium, if only to see the look on your face when he did.

**********

It took an unfathomable amount of restraint to keep yourself from calling Pierre to wish him luck.

You texted Max instead, wishing him a safe and comfortable podium a half hour before lights out. He hadn't responded, likely already in the garage with his trainer going through his pre race routine.

The pace Max had set the day before had awarded him pole position and the margin between him and Hamilton had been enough that you were confident in his ability to hold off the Mercedes for all fifty six laps.

If you were honest with yourself, you were disappointed that the Alpha Tauri you so desperately tried to ignore would be starting in thirteenth. You try not to think about it, instead queueing up SkySports and opening your laptop for pre race coverage. You avoid the interviews in favor of listening to the commentators analyze the grid.

"It should be an easy win for Max as long as he fends off Hamilton until the first round of pit stops. The undercut works well here, as Red Bull proved last year, and I'm sure they plan on doing the same thing this year."

You hum in agreement, gingerly sipping your steaming tea. You really ought to consider a career as a sportscaster at this point based on how often you came to the same conclusions they did.

"I think one of the biggest shakeups is Russell starting all the way up in eleventh after his amazing qualifying for Williams yesterday. Think he can hold onto that position?"

"He's got some fierce competition not far behind in the form of Alpha Tauri. Gasly starts thirteenth- surprisingly far back on the grid given the otherwise flawless performance he's shown this year. But it seems likely that he should be able to overtake-"

You flick the tv on mute, unable to stomach listening to them sing his praises. You numb your mind with social media until the Formula 1 theme plays on your laptop, alerting you that there's a few minutes until race start. Tire blankets are peeled off and the drivers weave their way through the formation lap with the exception of Kimi who takes his traditional straight line approach to warm up his supersoft tires. 

Most of the front runners are on ultrasofts, indicating a two stop strategy. It was Pirelli's recommended approach, and you were glad that Horner heeded their advice for once and let Max use the ultras in Q2. It would give Max the upper hand over Hamilton who starts on the yellow sidewall tire and thus slightly slower lap times.

Crofty and Brundle break down the notable turns as the cars line up on the grid, pointing out the sharp hairpin only a few hundred meters from pole position. If Max got away clean, he would be ahead of the cramped pack and have an even better edge over the silver arrows who would be forced to queue behind him.

The traditional "lights out and away we go" kicks off the grand prix, engines roaring into the first turn. Max does manage to get away clean and is awarded with an immediate advantage. Turn one proves tragic for the Alfa Romeo of Raikonnen and the Asthon Martin of Stroll who collide and cause Kimi to spin. They rejoin at the back of the pack, your eyes snagging on the navy and white of an Alpha Tauri as it streams past. 

Your heart spins in a similar fashion when the GAS driver tag leaps up two places in the timing table, suddenly in eleventh due to the incident. Your gaze snaps to the laptop humming on your legs before you remember its Max's driver cam you queued up. The Dutchman is silent as his engineer relays information about the incident and informs him of the widening gap between those chasing him. 

“Confirm received,” Gianpiero says calmly. No matter the situation or how heated Max got, he always kept his head. It was what made the duo such a good match and had likely kept Max from going off the rails on more than one occasion.

“Yeah,” Max says shortly, clearly pissed about how quickly Hamilton was approaching. “Let me know when I’ve got enough charge to get out of range.”

“Yep, will do. Just keep this pace and you’ll hold him at bay.”

Live coverage replays the incident between Stroll and Raikonnen from the view of onboard with Pierre. The instant the 10 on the halo appears in the center of your screen you suck in a breath. He yanks the wheel to avoid colliding with Ocon, who had to do the same to keep from hitting his teammate as they navigate through the carnage.

You chew on your lip and try to refocus on the battle between the front runners. Not much is happening in the midfield for the next thirty or so laps and Max just barely manages to build a solid enough gap between himself and Hamilton to dive into the pits comfortably without losing places. 

Your phone rings and you answer it without checking who it was as the only person you wouldn't answer was currently occupied.

"Hello?"

"Why the fuck didn't they pit Daniel?!"

You grin, noting the blistering beginning on his front left tire as SkySports switches to his onboard camera. "Because he's about to pass Charles," you tell Dan's girlfriend. She didn't call you often during races. It was likely that she knew you were nearing your wits end and this was her way of offering support.

"He won't be able to with those tires- oh." She breaks off when Daniel passes a DRS detection zone and his rear wing opens, allowing him to pass the Monegasque with ease. 

"Told you," you say with a touch of reprimand. "You're always too nervous about those things. Daniel knows how to drive, just trust him to get the job done and he'll bring home another trophy for your apartment."

"I don't live here," she points out and you roll your eyes. She had lived in London as long as you had known her, but she was almost always at Daniel's apartment whether he was in town or not. Daniel digs in as the camera follows him for a lap, highlighting the widening gap between the McLaren and the Ferrari.

"You basically do. At this point, you're paying rent for a dusty one bedroom apartment on the east side that you set foot in maybe once a month." She scoffs but you push on, "a waste of sterling if you ask me, when you're at Daniel's every time I ask you to do anything."

"You act like I never- there goes Pierre!"

His name sparks dread in your gut as your attention flicks back to the screen in time to see him overtake Bottas on the inside of turn one. He'd managed to claw up to fifth with the move, somehow gaining places while you weren't looking.

"Good for him," you croak, trying your best to be genuinely happy for him. He was pushing the car to the limit and you'd be amazed if he didn't wind up on the podium along with Dan and Max. Charles and Hamilton were the only ones in his way, and something told you Charles wouldn’t put up much of a fight when his mate reached his gearbox. Hamilton would prove a challenge but he had been making tiny mistakes all day. Nothing significant, though enough to add up to him barely holding onto second while Daniel rode his gearbox.

"He's got ten laps to get past those two," she murmurs as if momentarily forgetting you were on the phone. 

"Can we talk about literally anything else please?" You whisper, half tempted to shut off the race completely. 

"Babe, you have to face the music at some point. Either you never want to see him again or you love him, which is it?"

She never failed to be anything but brutally honest. You appreciate it because everyone else let you brush off your problems, but she called you on your bullshit. She would needle you about it until you folded.

"I think it's better for both of us if I pretend we never met, don't you?"

"Easier for you, yes," she agrees. "But it'll kill Pierre. You don't think you could keep in touch with him, just as friends?"

"I don't know if I can handle that. I can barely look at him without wanting to bawl my eyes out."

She sighs, pausing to contemplate what to say. Voice soft, she continues, "Why don't you just take him back? Clearly it's ruining both of you. Are you really gonna let the press wreck the best you ever had? I know its hard but-"

"I'm not like you," you cut in. "I can't just ignore the articles and the comments and pretend there aren't people out there that hate me for being with him. They came to my house, disrupted my family. Hell, Ben can't even go to school without being mobbed by his classmates demanding answers. If my suffering is what allows my family to go about their lives then so be it."

"If that's what you wanna believe."

You sigh, tangling your fingers in the hem of your shirt. "It is."

"Alright," she says, voice teetering on a knife's edge. "I know better than to try to change your mind when you're like this. He's on the podium by the way. Oh, and watch what you say to Max- Pierre will read into it."

She hangs up without a goodbye, leaving you to deal with the realization that the podium is indeed VER RIC GAS on your own. Your eyes are glued to the Red Bull and McLaren drivers, blatantly ignoring the one in the white suit as the anthems play and the champagne is sprayed, turning away to busy yourself with making coffee when Daniel hands his liquid filled race boot to third place.

You weren't quite sure how you were supposed to watch what you said to Max- there was no reason to in your mind. Max was your next closest friend on the grid and you had every right to congratulate him if you wanted to.

Resolute in your decision, you text Max and Daniel a quick congratulations before shutting off the TV and closing your laptop.

Max's insane custom ringtone he'd selected for himself nearly makes you jump out of your skin when it blares from your phone.

"Hey great race-"

"Did you see it? I wasn't sure if you'd watch it- did you see my move on Hamilton when he tried to get past me?" He was talking a mile a minute like he was still out on track. "I was like- and then Dan tried to overtake me on the final lap and I was like no way! And then-"

"Max," you chime in, dragging out the 'a' with a sing-song voice. "You're rambling."

"Oh right. Yeah but I made it! Led every lap and finished with another win."

"That's great." You force as much enthusiasm in the words as possible, trying to match his chaotic energy. "You did great. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm proud to be your friend. You beat a world champ!"

"It means a lot-" 

"Who's that?"

You stiffen at the familiar cadence. You had assumed Max was back in the garage when he called, but he must have still been in the podium room. You could picture him in his race suit, smudges of grease and dirt staining the pristine white. Beads of sweat probably ran down his neck, begging to be brushed away by your tongue. 

"Uh, no one," Max says in a lame attempt to cover up his digression. "I gotta go," he whispers to you. 

"Let me talk-"

"Wait don't," you start, but the call ends abruptly and you blink. You stare down at your phone, completely dumbfounded. Of course his instinct would be to talk to you, to share the euphoria of a podium with you. It was the first victory in three years he wouldn't have you to celebrate with.

It was only a matter of time until his resolve popped like the cork on his champagne.

**********

Pierre's phone is in his hand as soon as Max hangs up. He hefts his trophy in the other, a wild grin on his sweaty face as he snaps a picture. He makes sure he's the only one in the frame, shamelessly wanting himself to be the center of your attention.

"Mate," Daniel pipes up, catching his eye, "you think that's a good idea?" 

Pierre sighs, cutting the Australian a glare. "I'm just trying to fill her in."

"Wasn't your plan to give her space?"

"It's been a week, isn't that long enough?"

"Take it from me, sometimes it takes months for someone to figure things out. Hell, you know how long it took me to sort through my feelings for-"

"I know," Pierre cuts in. "I know. I just- a snap can't hurt can it? C'mon, I just got a podium! If it goes bad I can blame it on the post race jitters."

Daniel holds up his hands and shrugs. "You're a grown man. Do what you want."

Pierre studies the photo, scrutinizing the way his hair was plastered to his head and the awkward way he'd posed to keep anyone but himself out of the frame. It's his genuine smile that he knows will do you in, and ultimately the reason he sends it.

His phone is a lead weight clutched in his grip as he winds through the paddock, constantly stopped by vips and team members congratulating him. None of what anyone says registers, he just tries his best to match their mood and sputter praises about his team's contributions to his podium. 

The snap you finally send back is only from the eyes up, but it's enough. He's surrounded by people in his driver room, but for ten seconds it might as well have just been him staring at a sliver of your face on a screen.

The tiny lines at the corners of your shining eyes tell him you're smiling, which is a step in the right direction even if you won't let him see your entire face. It's enough to reignite the hope that slumbered in his chest while waiting for you to pull the trigger and make a move.

He sends back a video of the people in the room, who cheer when they realize they're being filmed. 'Wish you were here,' is what he captions it and sends it without giving himself a chance to overthink.

Ten minutes pass with no reply.

The beer he’s already consumed have given him a pleasant buzz as well as an excuse to make a bad decision or two. He takes another video of the room to post to his Instagram story, 'Missing you' written in the lower left corner.

Fuck, he hopes you'll see it and regret leaving him on read. Instead all he gets is a text from Charles chastising him for stirring up drama.

Really Pierre?

Blame it on the alcohol, he texts back. 

I know you aren’t drunk. You can’t form a coherent sentence when you are.

Guess i gotta drink more then

Pierre doesn’t turn anyone bearing alcohol away. He's two celebratory shots deep when Daniel finds him sulking in a corner. "You've got my girl texting me freaking out over your story. I've seen it and I gotta agree with her. Was that really necessary?"

"She left me on read," Pierre says like that was enough explanation. His head was spinning and it was getting hard to keep the room upright. "And it's the truth. I miss her like hell. I want her here. She was supposed to come, you know? I was gonna have her fly in with me on the jet. She doesn't start class again until June. I had this whole week planned out. I was gonna show her Texas- she’s from New York and..." 

He trails off when he notes Dan’s pitying smile. Daniel sighs and runs a hand through his curls. "I know. I get it, okay? I know it's hard but you can't force it. You've gotta let her come back on her own, all you're doing now is pushing her away."

He was fucking clueless when it came to these things. He'd had you for a few precious moments and now that he'd lost you he didn't know how to act. His mind was running on hazy autopilot; he barely knew which way was up, let alone did he trust himself to make any sort of important decision.

He stares down at the shot he'd been handed at some point before throwing it back. The cheap whiskey burns his throat but he barely registers the sting. "Should I take it down?"

"She already saw it," Daniel says gently, as if he anticipates how bad the fuck up will hurt. And it does. It hits him like a tire wall at two hundred kph, knowing that you were probably ranting or crying on the phone with Daniel’s girlfriend. "But yeah, that's probably best. People are already wondering what happened between you two, no need to throw fuel on the fire."

"You're probably right-" Pierre cuts off when Charles arrives with a grimace on his face. He shakes his head and gives his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. 

"For once I'm not the dumb one."

"You're a dick, you know that right?" Daniel says, allowing Pierre to delete the post. It takes him a few tries before he gets it down, but undeniably rumors will be circulating in the morning if they weren’t already.

"Honestly what were you thinking?" Charles demands, edging towards full blown yelling. "I told you to leave her be. The gossip stemming from this isn’t gonna help.”

The last thing he needed was someone else telling him how stupid his decision had been. At least Daniel had the decency to show sympathy. 

"Honestly?" Pierre responds with the same intensity, his anger flaring. "Honestly, Charles, I was thinking that she was happy for me but was too afraid to take the leap. She haunts me. Every second I’m awake I have to force myself away from her. Even when I’m asleep I can’t get away from her. So I don’t know, maybe I wanted to haunt her too."

“This isn’t the way you win her back and you know it.”

“I know!” Pierre throws up his hands. “But what else am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me. She has no problem talking to Max or Daniel but apparently she draws the line at me.”

“You know it’s not-” Daniel's eyes flick to his phone and he fights back a grin. All it does is remind Pierre that he lost the person that could bring that sort of smile to his own face. "Fellas I wish I could stay and help but I gotta get going. Charles, I think Pierre needs another drink." He slaps five American dollars in the Monegasque's hand. "First one is on me."

Pierre is too deep in a spiral to care when his friend drags him from the party to a bar just south of the circuit. Somehow it was within walking distance; the floor was sticky and the lighting was for shit but he didn't care.

Pierre's focus was on downing shot after shot, erasing the broken image of you his mind had conjured up. He never should have posted the story. It only served to feed into what the media had been speculating for the past week and dredged up more tension between you.

Pierre stops checking his phone two shots later. The liquor provides a wet blanket over his senses, dousing him in cold water and scrambling his brain. He could barely remember his own name, but yours still lived in the corner of his mind.

Even drunk, he refused to forget you.

Two hours and who knows how much alcohol later, Charles helps Pierre back to his hotel room.

Pierre falls asleep as soon as he hits the mattress, head too blurry to dredge up memories of you.

[lizamango]

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 6/?

A/N: Hi loves! Long chapter ahead! Watched Shang-Chi this weekend and wowowowowow go see it if you haven’t!! 

We are now in the AGE OF ULTRON phase; I wanted to finally start building the foundations of your friendship with Wanda this chapter! 

And Agents of Shield cameos!

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist  ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp​​, @white-wolf-buckaroo​​, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies,  @yaszx​

Word Count: 2705

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Warnings: cursing, slowest fucking burn oml

Chapter Summary: You meet the Maximoff twins and the Avengers on your search for Sergeant Barnes.

Chapter 6:  I’M NICE TO MEET

“Another bust,” I say into my comms as Fitz, Johnson, Ward and I exit the base, leaving knocked out or restrained HYDRA agents for the local authorities to find.

“Copy that,” Fury replies.

“You know, this is like… we’re vigilantes, right? This isn’t legal anymore? We have no jurisdiction anywhere,” Fitz says.

“SHIELD did what SHIELD wanted,” I shrug. “Now it’s our turn.”

“That’s true, SHIELD never followed the rules, not even their own,” Daisy added.

“Excuse me, did you forget that you were on the line with the Director of SHIELD?” Fury defends.

I chuckle. “You mean former right? Because Fitz has a point, if we get caught we go to jail too.”

“Well, good thing we still have access to a quinjet,” Fury says as he lands right in front of us.

“Very smooth,” we climb in as the ramp comes down and take a seat. I sigh, “gone are the good ol’ days.”

“I never even got to experience them,” Daisy shrugs.

“They weren’t that great for us. She had it good, being Level 7,” Grant comments.

“You’re Level 6! I’m still Level 4!” Fitz exclaims, offended.

“The system collapsed when SHIELD fell, I can make you unofficially Level 10 if you’d like?” I offer as I go to the mini fridge to take out a… “who ate the mozzarella and prosciutto wrap?” I say, closing the door and looking at everyone disappointedly.

“Wasn’t me,” Daisy and Grant say.

My eyes shift to Fitz. “I’m sorry, did it have your name on it? Because it didn’t so…” I pick up an apple and throw it at him. “Ow ow ow what the hell!”

“Behave,” we hear May through the comms.

“Sorry, May,” we all say as we take out seats, buckling up to meet Fury.

He’s typing away at the computer when we enter his makeshift underground office. It’s still hard to get used to being based here and not some fancy DC high rise.

“We’ve stormed two bases and found nothing. The Avengers have cleared four and they haven’t found the sceptre either,” Daisy recounts.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” Fitz says.

“We have two computer geniuses, tactile and operations experts and we can’t find a magical space stick,” I say, frustrated but this mission isn’t the only thing on my mind. It’s been almost a year since Steve asked Sam and I for help and we still haven’t found anything solid. The HYDRA bases haven’t revealed anything helpful either.

“On a lighter note, HYDRA is six bases down! I see that as an absolute win,” Fitz smiles.

“I’d say you all take a break. I’ve not found anything as of yet so… go back to your lives for a little bit. I’ll send directives if I find anything,” Fury orders.

“You know… you’re not the boss of us anymore, right?” I raise a brow.

“You’re dismissed.”

I go home with the intention of getting some rest but there’s something grating at my mind. It seems too easy that we’ve taken down six bases in the span of a year after HYDRA had been hiding in the shadows for decades… I go to my laptop and map out where each base was found. Huh… They arrange in a line of six and when the order of discovery is taken into account it seems that each base gets farther and farther away from one country. Sokovia.

I pack a bag with disguises that I still kept around, a photostatic veil and more subtle weapons in the place of guns. Time to go into the belly of the beast.

I look at my phone and assume the identity of a scientist that I see is on her way into the base. Before she gets too close I knock her out with a an electric disc. I drag her unconscious body to a place with cover and scan her face with my phone, syncing it up with my photostatic veil. Once it uploads, I put it on my face which has now taken hers. I style my hair similar to hers and replace my clothes with hers. I tie her up but inject her with a sedative that should last long enough for me to gather intel. I go through her bag and read through her diary and tablet to see where she should and shouldn’t be, to prevent suspicion.

I sigh. “Ideme na to,” here we go, I practice my Sokovian.

I enter the base. Doctor Kovak seems to be reporting to sub-level 3 according to her diary. I follow the signs quietly but the staff here seem to be too busy with their own tasks to mind me.

“Doctor Kovak,” I turn to the source of the voice. Wolfgang von Strucker, of course. “How are the test subjects?” he asks.

“I’m checking on them now, Herr Strucker,” I respond. He nods and gestures for me to walk with him. He leads me to two rooms with one sided glass. HYDRA’s still experimenting on people… There’s a man in the cell to the left who looks healthy enough and a woman in the cell next to him, sat on her knees looking at blocks of wood. I raise a brow but take out Dr. Kovak’s tablet, tapping around to find something.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?”

I find a tab on SUBJECTS and tap it, leading me to 16 more tabs labelled FAILURES but two SUCCESSES. This brings me to the Maximoff twins, Pietro and Wanda. The doctor’s newest entry was from last night. “The male has increased metabolism and improved homeostasis,” I say. “His vitals look normal, for someone going through this,” I add as I look to the monitor on the wall of his side. “The female has exhibited abilities of telekinesis.” I stop myself from frowning… they’re human?

“Keep an eye on them. I want to know more. I want to know how they survived the powers of the sceptre while many others did not. What makes them special, doctor? We are running out of bases to feed the Avengers.” He walks away before I can acknowledge his orders.

So the sceptre is here and they were just trying to keep themselves out of our radar. My stomach sinks slightly in disappointment as there was the possibility that what HYDRA was hiding was Barnes… maybe he’s still free then. Hopefully.

I look at the twins files for more information on why they would volunteer for such experiments. Native Sokovians, orphaned at ten years old and only having each other since then. I look up and notice that Wanda is staring at me. Or, correction, she’s staring into my soul.

I need to find the sceptre but that can wait at the presence of two enhanced individuals that have chosen the opposing side.

I open Wanda’s cell. “Miss Maximoff,” I greet. “Good morning,” she doesn’t reply. “I just wanted to learn more about you.”

Her head tilts but she doesn’t say anything.

“What made you want to volunteer for this… program?” I ask.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I believe there is something special about you and your brother. We’ve of course taken biological samples but I like to take a more… holistic approach to find out more.”

She looks at me and I swear her eyes glow red.

“I just want to help.”

She blinks and her posture relaxes as if she believes me. “I lost everyone but my brother. There’s so much wrong with the world. We just want to change it.”

“That’s why you agreed to be experimented on?”

She nods. “My turn. What did you do to the real Dr. Kovak?”

I look up sharply. How could she possibly…? Wanda doesn’t seem to want to alert the other scientists and agents of my presence so I clear my throat and straighten up. “She’s safe. I just needed intel.”

Her brow raises. “On what?”

“Can’t ask me two questions in a row, Miss Maximoff.”

“I could just… read your mind.”

“You can do that?”

Her brow quirks as an answer. “Have you been withholding information from Strucker?”

“Yes.”

I hum at her honesty. “Good. You can’t trust him.”

“And I can trust you? A strange woman who is wearing someone else’s face and clothes,” she counters.

“Compared to anyone else here? Yes.”

She is about to say something but alarms sound. I leave the cell, closing the door with a last look at Wanda. I’ll get her out, I promise myself.

“What’s happening?” I ask, tucking the tablet away.

“We’re under attack.”

“Who?” Strucker asks.

“The Avengers.”

Shit. I sneak out and hear Strucker giving out orders. I find a server room and start downloading what intel I can about HYDRA’s plans and remaining strongholds for any clue on Sergeant Barnes’s locations and slip out. Rogers doesn’t need to know I was here with no back up.

The cold air greets me as I climb out of the base and start to discreetly make my way back to the town to catch a train to the next city to catch a flight back to DC

I feel someone behind me and I sharply turn, dodging their hold and kicking them in the knee by instinct. I stop when I see who it is. But he doesn’t as he goes in for a punch, I dodge and use his shield to propel myself backwards to get some distance between us.

“Steve! Don’t sneak up on a spy like that, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” I reach a hand down and he takes it as he gets back up on both feet.

He frowns under his helmet but there is no recognition in his eyes. I remember than the veil is still on my face so I peel it off and undo my hair.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” I shrug.

“Did you come in with a team?” he asks concerned as he places his shield on his back. “Y/N where is your team? Did you not have back up?”

“I went in alone, okay?”

“Why would you do that?” Someone in his comms must have spoken because he turns away briefly. “I’m dealing with something but south west is clear.”

“It was just intel retrieval. Nothing big.”

“It’s you vs HYDRA, that’s not enough. Did you even have an extraction plan?”

“I was gonna take a train to Bucharest and then a plane back to DC.”

He gives me a what the fuck were you thinking look. “You ride back home with us. But for now… care to join us?”

I smirk. “How could I refuse?” We enter the compound to take down more HYDRA agents. As Steve kicks down an agent Strucker runs into us.

“Baron Strucker. Hydra’s number one thug,” Steve says, circling the man.

“Technically I’m a thug for SHIELD,” he retorts.

“Well then technically you’re unemployed. Where’s Loki’s sceptre?”

“Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat. You’ll mention how I cooperated, I hope,” he surrenders immediately. Suspiciously.

I frown and see the flowing red eyes in the shadows.

“I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation. How many are there-”

“Cap!” I warn but it’s too late as Wanda hits him with a red surge of energy that knocks him down the stairs.

I’m ready in case Wanda comes for me but she doesn’t, just exiting the place and closing the door behind her.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage,” Steve says into his comms as he runs back up the stairs.

“You’ll have to be faster than that–“ I hit Strucker with a disc and he convulses as he falls.

“I love those things,” I remark.

Steve chuckles then picks Strucker up. “Guys, I’ve got Strucker.”

“Want me to keep looking for the sceptre?” I offer.

He nods. “I’ll take Strucker, you find Tony. Nat and Bruce are still on the field but Thor and Clint are on the jet.” At my confused look it’s like he read my mind. “Clint got hurt. But he’ll pull through.” He turns into his comms. “Tony, Y/N’s coming to you.” Steve gives me his communicator and leaves with Strucker.

I go back to the level where the twins were to start looking for Stark.

“Mr. Stark this is Agent – well former agent Y/N L/N, are you able to give me your 20?”

“Well, I found the sceptre. Bringing it up with me now. I was at the south corridor and I found a secret doorway.” I follow where he says, remembering the map I saw on the tablet. “Nice to meet you, former agent.”

“I’m nice to meet, Mr. Stark.”

“I like you.” He taps something on his bracelet and his armour envelopes him.

“Is that it?”

“Yep. Pretty underwhelming, huh?” he seems out of breath… shaken.

“Are you alright, Stark?”

“I’m fine,” he responds all too quickly.

“Let’s get to the jet,” I follow the coordinates that Steve sent me on my phone and the Avengers are all there waiting.

Natasha smiles as she sees me. “What a surprise,” she says going in for a hug as Stark hands the sceptre to Thor and starts up the engine.

“Whatcha doin’ all the way out here?” Clint rasps.

“I could ask you the same thing old man,” I lightly joke, weary of his injury.

“Who you callin’ old? We got a thousand year old and a hundred year old on board.”

“Alright, ease up before you hurt yourself even more,” Natasha says as she gives him a sedative.

Once Clint was passed out and secure I take a seat with Nat next to me.

“So what are you doing here?” she asks.

“Same as you.”

Raising a brow she sighs. “Don’t tell me Fury’s still working you?”

“Of course he is. We have to take down the rest of HYDRA.”

“That’s our job, now.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you’re doing great just invading countries that already hate you and wrecking historical sites. Top notch spy work.”

“Not a spy anymore, Y/N and neither are you,” she retorts.

Steve enters our conversation, standing tall with his arms crossed. “What do you mean?”

“See, you don’t even do your research before you go in. What happened to knowing your enemy?” I ask them both.

“Last I checked our enemies were people we thought were friends so I think we know them pretty well,” Steve replies.

“The two enhanced?” I counter. “What do you know about them?”

“What do you?” Stark asks.

I smirk. “So nothing?” I pull out the tablet that miraculously did not take any damage. I turn it on and find the file on the twins. “They’re called the Maximoff twins; Wanda and Pietro. They were orphaned at 10 years old when a shell hit their civilian apartment in the Novi Grad Bombings. Sokovia has been in the middle of a rebellion for years now. They don’t like you guys very much. Wanda has… special abilities. Neuroelectric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation,” at confused faces I simplify. “She can move things with her mind and read yours. The latter, she has kept from Strucker.”

“So how do you know about it?” Stark asks.

“Because I spoke to her,” I shrug. “I know she can read minds because she knew I wasn’t the doctor I took the identity of.”

“You got in proximity with them?”

I nod.

“You know how dangerous that is, Y/N? You could have gotten killed, going in there like that, all alone. Did anyone else know where you were?” Steve demands.

“Okay, one, I wasn’t alone, I had my weapons.” He rolls his eyes. “Two, that’s classified.”

“There isn’t a SHIELD anymore, Y/N. Information isn’t classified.”

“Then I’m not telling.”

“Why not?” Nat asks.

“Because you’ll yell at me.”

Steve presses two fingers on the bridge of his nose and huffs, knowing the answer.

“What about the other one? Pietro?” Stark asks.

“He’s just really fast.”

We land on the helipad at Stark tower and Helen Cho and Hill take Clint to patch him up. Steve asks about Strucker and we get the news that NATO has him and it’s all in all mission accomplished.

💖

Chapter 7

Thank you for reading everyone!

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Lovedust Epilogue || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Epilogue: The end to a new beginning

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: PLEASE READ!!! And just like that, that concludes this series. I want to thank you all for supporting me and my writing, I couldn’t ask for sweeter followers to have along the way and because of you guys, this story has grown into something that has stuck with me through my everyday life. Every comment, every like, every reblog means the world to me and it is thanks to YOU that I felt comfortable enough to continue to share this story. I love these characters so much and I’m sad to see them leave but I can rest happy knowing that things ended the way they should and with that, I have my peace with them. Also peep the last few lines that are the same as the first few lines of the series ouch. Sorry to get so gushy but wow, after over 30k words, 8 parts, and many tears/laughter, lovedust is officially over. 

Warnings: Fluff because you all deserve it

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || epilogue 

[five months later]

‘Some things never change’ you thought to yourself as Peter’s music slipped its way through your bedroom walls. You had asked for a lazy Sunday morning and the promise of being woken up to sweet but inevitably burnt pancakes. 

The music wasn’t dreadful; you didn’t recognize the melody but it was eerily similar to something you would hear Steve play in his room from time to time whenever he wanted to feel nostalgic. Go figure, you and Peter had always teased Steve to ‘drop the oldies but goodies’ playlist so you couldn’t complain now that Peter got his hands on it. 

You slipped on your robe over the pajamas you had no intention of taking off for the remainder of the day before exiting your room. Once you had made it to Peter’s room, you didn’t bother to knock and instead, opened the door to find your boyfriend scrolling through his phone to change the song. 

“ I was promised breakfast in bed so unless you’re looking up how to make the pancake batter, you better make your way into the kitchen Parker,” You teased lightly, causing Peter to throw his phone to the side of his bed. 

“ I didn’t think you’d be awake so early,” Peter stretched his hands out to you and just like second nature, you stepped into his arms and leaned against his chest,” you never wake up before twelve on the weekend.”

“ Well I was working on my paper but someone had to play their music so loud,” You looked up at Peter who only gave back a sleepily, sympathetic smile. 

Peter hummed a soft apology as he moved his hands down to your waist to pull your frame closer to his. He could smell your shampoo- no- he was sure you had used his shampoo yet again but decided to spare you from another lecture of stealing because of how relaxed you felt in his embrace. 

With the music playing in the background, he started to sleepily sway side to side which only made you laugh again.

“ Are we dancing right now? What about my pancakes?” 

“ In a second, I just want to hold you for a little bit longer.” 

“ These better be some pretty bomb ass pancakes then.”

“ Just be quiet and let me dance with you.”

You huffed but didn’t resist, instead, you melted into his embrace even more and closed your eyes. 

With your summer drawing to an end, you could only hope to savor these precious moments with Peter, especially since you had no idea what the following fall would have in store for the two of you.

You knew he would always be around but things wouldn’t be the exact same. You two had taken advantage of living only a few feet away from each other but it seemed like life was moving too fast for your liking now that you had college right around the corner. 

The past couple of months had been nothing short of a blessing. It was a lot to handle at first as the two of you sorted through whatever insecurities or mistakes that occurred before the relationship but slowly, you two managed and tied up any loose ends that were still poking out. 

You weren’t afraid to say it outloud, of course you loved him. But there was something even stronger that helped you two through it all and that was forgiveness. There was no point in holding anything over each other’s head because the end goal was as clear as day and you were relieved knowing that the past was the past. 

Although you would catch yourself thinking back to the terrible memories you had of tormenting each other, it almost felt like you were looking back at ancient tapes filmed through a different lens. You both grew from it so now, when you looked back, all you could see was growth and effort.  

Your heart sunk for a moment as you swayed in his arms. You held him tighter at the thought of change and how different things would be in the future. Who’s to say that you two would even be together forever, of course, you wanted to be with him forever but this life wasn’t guaranteed. 

You could hear his voice right now, telling you to stop thinking of your morbid hypotheticals and so you did. You wanted to enjoy this moment right here and now, you just wanted it to last a bit longer. 

You hardly flinched as you felt Peter’s bare foot step onto your toes, only smiling at the apology that slipped out of his mouth. He could tell he had snapped you out of your daze and Peter, being the ever so curious one, asked you what you were thinking about. 

“ We’ve come a long way huh?” You said as you felt Peter nod above you,” I’m going to miss you.”

“ Hey, hey, don’t be sad. You know I’m always going to be around baby,” Peter pulled away to study your sad expression, his thumb coming up to wipe underneath your eye to make sure you weren’t crying. 

“ I know I know. It’s just...this is the end of a chapter and I don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye to it just yet. What happens after all of this?” You asked as Peter pressed a soft kiss on your temple to ease your mind. 

“ Like you said babe, breakfast in bed,” He teased, knowing that it would make you laugh. 

He felt his heart skip a beat when his attempt had done the trick, even if the laugh was short, it was still a tally in his book. 

“ Things will change and that’s okay,” Peter said after a moment as you stayed quiet,” we’ve changed a lot and look where we are now. Did you ever think months ago that you and I would ever be this close without killing one another?”

“ Definitely not.” 

“ Exactly, but you know what won’t change?” You looked up at your boyfriend as he smiled back at you,” I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Your heart swelled at the profession. It was almost like a talent of his to find the right words to say to make your anxieties seemingly evaporate off of you. 

Even though it came out as a whisper, you meant it with your whole chest, those three words you couldn’t find yourself ever getting tired of saying. It slipped so easily out of your mouth, almost as if someone was asking you something as simple as your name. 

“ I love you too-”

Peter barely professed all of it before you pressed your lips against his, his shoulders instantly relaxing at your action. He has kissed you over a hundred times within the last couple of months but each time, he still felt over the moon when given the chance to be intimate with you. 

It was always when you pulled away that suddenly, he was grounded but in a way that still made his heart feel feverish with pure adoration. 

You always smiled after pulling away from his lips because just like the first time you two ever shared a kiss, he always wore the same loving but goofy grin on his face as if he was a schoolgirl. And you loved it. 

Peter couldn’t help himself to kiss you again and for the next few minutes, you found yourself either swaying with your boyfriend to the soft sound of the instrumental love ballad or stopping for a moment to press your lips against his. 

The moment was fleeting after your dad had barged in a minute later, grumbling about how the door needed to be opened at least five feet but even so, you knew the feeling would stay in your memory for life. 

So as you came out to the kitchen to watch your ‘super-family’ attempt to make an edible breakfast, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 

You weren’t sure how much room was left in your heart but you knew a person who you would always have space for. Peter Parker.

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[fullconstellationalt]

You Weren’t My Mission: Ch. 4

Chapter 4 – Be Careful

TW: brief panic attack description

Note: Hello! All chapters will have warnings at the beginning of their content and possible triggers. If you find that I miss any triggers, please let me know and I will add them to the chapter warnings as soon as possible. Thank you! <3

Series masterpost

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

AUTHOR MASTERLIST

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The last thing you saw before your world went white was the set of blue eyes from your nightmares. ･:*:･ﾟ☆

Bucky’s POV

“Come in.”

Bucky rose from his seat in the waiting area and entered Dr. Raynor’s office. The thud of each slow, heavy footstep bounced off of the room’s bare walls. As was routine, Bucky nudged the door closed behind him and trudged towards the couch.

Morning light peeked through the cracked blinds of the ceiling-to-floor windows, casting stripes across the bland, gray room. The greens and blues of the woodland scene that spanned one wall were the only sign of life in the room. If only it were in-view during the sessions.

“Take a seat, James,” she instructed while gesturing to the couch in front of him. His jaw clenched in a silent protest at the use of his first name; he preferred to let those close to him use it rather than his belittling therapist.

The sessions felt as clinical as the room they were held in; any sense of comfort was pushed well outside of its four walls. Bucky felt as though his every movement and breath was being monitored, Dr. Raynor making frequent marks in her notepad when the silence lingered. 

She knew it bugged him; that it reminded him of the years of being tested and monitored by Hydra. A lot about the therapy visits did: the monitoring of his every move, the questions she demanded he answer, the hostility of the space. He always felt out of place in the sessions; his gruff, hard exterior was a harsh juxtaposition to the pristine and disinfectant-riddled room. The one hour a week that he had to spend in this office felt like eons, which said a lot coming from the 106 year-old.

Dr. Raynor wasted no time jumping in, asking immediately how his weekend had been. He’d been in Boston, checking off yet another name from his list. The debacle went anything but smoothly, but he was used to a negative reaction. Dr. Raynor seemed keen on dissecting where things went wrong. Bucky was half an hour into this week’s session before he mentioned having seen you earlier in the week.

“So, you saw her? How did it go? How did she react?” pressed Dr. Raynor, by now used to Bucky’s reluctance to share the explicit details of his interactions.

“It was fine,” Bucky admitted. Dr. Raynor arched her brow, a signal for him to continue. He didn’t take the hint.

“Fine?” she asked.

“She was startled but we talked.” He paused, glancing out the window before meeting her eyes again. He could tell that she wasn’t satisfied with his brevity. “She wants to meet again.”

She widened her eyes and nodded as she marked in her notepad. The bar for things going “well” were pretty low. Bucky was as shocked as she was, frankly. Never before had anybody on his list asked to meet again, nor had they sat and talked with him for so long.

“And what did you say?”

“I agreed to it.” Bucky had been out of town on Friday, but wanted to give you time anyway. He wasn’t sure of when a good time was to show up at the bar again. Any day he considered seemed to soon; the last thing he wanted to do was make things worse by overwhelming you.

“Well, when are you meeting her again?”

Bucky explained that the two of you hadn’t exactly chosen a time or day to meet again, nor had you exchanged contact information. Dr. Raynor rolled her eyes and let out an exacerbated sigh, by now all-too-aware of Bucky’s reluctance in social interactions.

There were only five minutes left in the appointment, and by the end of it Bucky had agreed that he’d go to the bar and meet with you one night this week. As he stood up to leave, Dr. Raynor paused on her walk to the door, looking him in the eye.

“Be careful,” she warned. 

He’d known her long enough now to know what she meant with those two words. To be careful not for himself, but for you. Bucky nodded once and turned to leave the office, the cadence of his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway.

———

Y/N’s POV

The harsh New York winter air blew against your face as you walked towards the bar. Just a few more blocks to go, you reminded yourself, fists pressing deeper into your coat pockets. 

Last night you’d skipped going, too drained by a long day. But today you’d had a new, cocky intern hanging over your shoulder for six hours as you worked — more than enough reason to get a drink.

You quickened your pace as you approached the final block, practically jogging to get inside before your fingertips froze off. With one hefty shove, the door to the bar flew open and you were greeted with warm air. You frantically rubbed your hands together, seeking heat from the friction, and made your way through the entry.

Until you saw him.

Bucky was in the seat next to your regular spot, drink in hand and eyes trained on the countertop. Your stomach immediately twisted into knots. Sure, you’d known he was coming at some point. But it had been one thing to conceptualize seeing him again — it was a whole other ordeal for him to be in the flesh, just yards away.

Against your every fight-or-flight instinct, you let out the breath you’d been holding and took a step forward out of the shadow of the entryway. Your heart rate quickened with each step. If there was commotion around you, you wouldn’t have noticed — all you could process was the blood pounding in your ears and the shrinking distance between you and the assassin.

Your vision became increasingly disfigured, as if you were seeing through a fish-eye lens. The tingling in your fingertips was no longer from the cold, instead spreading up your arms and to your head as your breathing got shallower and quicker. This feeling was all too familiar. You knew what was coming, and that you needed to get as far from here as possible.

But it was far too late. The tingling sensation overtook your entire body as your legs weakened, ears ringing and throat tight. You were having a panic attack in public, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The last thing you saw before your world went white was the set of blue eyes from your nightmares.

Next Chapter (Chapter 5 – Aftermath)

A/N: Thank you for waiting for this next part, this past month has been chaotic for me with some personal issues and work. Looking forward to getting more content out shortly! And thank you to all of the lovely new readers both here and across platforms, each notif warms my heart!

[heavcnslyre]

ricky bowen x reader series! part two

— starstruck au!

series masterlist, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten

IN WHICH you’re dragged along to camilla’s plans to try to meet ricky bowen— but the wrong one out of the two of you ends up in an encounter with him instead.

WARNINGS a lot more swearing this chapter rather than last, you have to get stitches

NOTES this chapter is actually pretty long. i’m not super happy with how it ends but it’s going to pick up in the next chapter exactly where it left off in this one, i just didn’t want to keep adding onto this one lmaoo. also there are some parts that are lowkey written poorly but i’m tired and it’s not too bad HAHAH enjoy!

edit 1-16-21 i changed the song he was singing if u saw it before no u didn’t!!!

(y/n) - your name

text dividers from @writeyourmindaway !!

lowercase intended.

“bye ash! have a good time!” you called as ashlyn was leaving. she waved goodbye and drove away in her parents car. it had taken a couple of hours for her to be happy with her outfit and hair/makeup, but she ended up looking really nice (not that she didn’t before, she just seemed to glow when she felt prettier). as you turned back into the house, camilla grabbed your arm and pulled you into your bedroom.

“what the hell cam?” you asked as she closed the bedroom door.

“mom and dad just agreed to me taking you around the city tonight and we’re going to nini’s party,” she said, turning towards the still packed suitcases and digging through them. you watched, eyebrows raised.

“really? what’s in it for me? i’m not just going to follow you to la to stalk this poor guy.”

camilla rolled her eyes and holds a dress up against herself in the mirror. “you can meet nini, maybe. you like her music, don’t you?”

“that dress is mine. and yeah i like her music but i’m not crashing her birthday party just to meet her.”

“whatever. you can wait in the car. i’ll just.... buy you something later.” she put the dress she had down and grabbed another one.

“how about you stop talking about ricky? i’ll go if you stop.”

camilla gave you an incredulous look. “stop talking about him? have you met me? or seen him?”

“fine. at least for the rest of the trip. take it or leave it.” she sighed and paused for a second, before nodding and grabbing the first dress she had.

“alright. but i’m wearing your dress.”

after the short drive to los angeles, camilla drove around, trying to find parking. but, naturally, it was los angeles, and there was no available parking. after more than ten minutes of searching, camilla sighed in frustration and pulled over, directly next to a ‘no parking’ sign. you pursed your lips and pointed up at it.

“cam, this is very clearly a no parking zone. you’re going to get a ticket,” she ignored you and dug in the backseat for her bag.

“i’ll be back in less than half an hour. stay put. if someone tries to talk to you... ignore them. or punch them, or something. i don’t care. just be safe.”

“you too,” you said, although it came out as more of a question. she moved the mirror to face her, made a few adjustments to her hair, then left the car quickly. you sighed and sank into your seat. it was going to be a while.

after almost half an hour with no sign of your sister, you texted her a simple ‘you okay?’ but recieved no response. you fidgeted in your seat, switching between random apps on your phone, trying to pass the time. eventually, close to 50 minutes pass and you sighed, realizing that you should probably go look for her.

you wrung your hands out and grabbed your bag, opening your door quickly and rushing across the street. the street was crowded and the main entrance to the club was packed full of fans wanting to get into the building. you stood on your toes, trying to find camilla, but you didn’t see her anywhere. ready to give up, you spot an alleyway by the building. you considered it for a moment before mentally saying fuck it and walking towards the alleyway. you’re busy looking for an entrance when a door opens suddenly and you ram into it, head first, knocking you onto your butt.

“ow, fuck,” you said, rubbing your head and wincing as you saw you were bleeding.

“oh, god!” the person who opened the door exclaimed as they knelt onto the ground to be at your level. “i’m so sorry— i didn’t know you were there.”

“it’s... it’s fine,” you said. “how could you have known?”

“can i help? i might have some bandaids in my car...”

you shook your head and look up at the person. “no, it’s... wait, are you ricky—”

he put one hand over your mouth and the other on the side of your face. “i’ll give you tickets to my next concert or something if you don’t scream my name.”

you shoved his hand off of you. “didn’t have to make it sound so kinky. i don’t want tickets to your show.”

“i...i didnt—” ricky stuttered but trailed off as a car pulls up in the alley. someone comes out of the drivers seat quickly.

“ricky, what the hell is going on?” the person asked as they advance towards you quickly. the person in the passenger seat gets out shortly after the first person and walked towards you as well.

“i... i hit her with my door on the way out. should probably take her to the hospital?” he asked nervously. the person knelt next to you and you recognize him as the guy ashlyn’s talking to from a few pictures she’s shown you.

“wait, you’re—”

“(y/n)?!” the person from the passenger seat exclaimed as they approached you. your eyes widened as ashlyn kneels in front of you, putting her hand on your cheek.

“ashlyn? what the hell?”

“i was about to ask you the same thing, what are you doing here?” she asked, worry written on her face. she moved your hand to look at the mark on your forehead.

“cam forced me here, she came to meet...” you looked over at ricky. “came to meet him.”

ashlyn rolled her eyes, not looking away from your face. “of course she did.”

“wait, how do you guys know each other?” ricky asked. “and who’s cam?”

“(y/n)’s my cousin, camilla is her sister. huge fan of yours,” ashlyn explained. “i should get her to a hospital.”

“let me take her,” ricky piped up. “i was the one who hit her.”

“ricky, you’re not even supposed to be out of the house right now. imagine what the press would say if you show up with.... a girl you don’t know at a hospital. you’d never get the role,” big red said firmly. ashlyn gave him a similar look to what big red was giving.

“i know but... i should take her. it’s only fair, i hit her,” ricky said, and him and red stared at each other for a minute. “besides, she just said her sister’s here. someone needs to find her, it’d be easier to explain coming from her cousin than me.”

“she would probably have a heart attack if it came from you,” ashlyn agreed. red sighed.

“fine. but just be careful, and stay out of the light. lurk in the shadows, or whatever. i’ll see you at your house in two hours.”

“okay.” ricky said. ashlyn stood up and helped you up.

“ricky, if you do anything to her, i will kill you. be careful. (y/n),” she turned to you. “i’ll try to distract cam and i’ll meet you at grandmas. text me what the doctor says.”

you hugged her quickly. “okay, i will.”

ashlyn gave one more stern look to ricky who raised his hands in defense before walking away with big red. ricky grabbed your bag off the ground and offered an arm for you to lean on to help bring you to the car. you shook your head, telling him you were fine and climbed into the passengers seat of his fancy car. he looked around before getting into the car quickly and putting on sunglasses.

“are you like on the run from the cops or something?” you asked after a minute of silence. he lookedcat you quickly, eyebrows knit.

“what do you mean?”

“well, you were coming out of a club through an alleyway, your friend was pulling the car into the alley and you’re acting super paranoid. should i be worried?”

he laughed. “no. running from the press, more like. i’m not supposed to be out this weekend. i’m.... up for a lead in a new tv show and any press this weekend, good or bad, could ruin it.”

“then why are you out? you could have easily avoided this whole situation by staying home,” you said pointedly. he sighed.

“i promised nini i’d sing at her party. i didn’t want to let her down. and i didn’t think someone would be walking down the alleyway at close to midnight anyways.”

you scoffed. “yeah well, i was there because of you anyways. your fault all around.”

he looked over at you with the same confused expression as before. “you were there because of me?”

“not like that. don’t get your hopes up,” you said. “my sister is obsessed with you, remember? she told me to wait in the car while she went to find you. it had been a while and the main entrance was packed. i needed to find a way in.”

“so... more your sisters fault, huh.”

“yeah. i guess so,” ricky grinned at you. you gave him a small, unamused smile back and turned to look out the window.

once you made it to the hospital, a doctor came to greet you almost immediately, as there were few people there. the doctor closed the curtain around you as he did the examination and ricky sat on the other side of it. you ended up getting a few stitches but he confirmed that you didn’t have any serious damage. the only thing he suggested was to keep an ice pack on it.

“so she’s okay?” ricky asked, peeking in through the curtain. the doctor laughed.

“yeah, she’s fine. let me go grab the ice pack, i’ll be back,” he left you and ricky in awkward silence for a moment. but, it was broken by his phone ringing loudly. his eyes widened and he answered the phone quickly.

“mom? what’s up?”

you couldn’t hear what she was saying on the other end, but he seemed to tense up after every second she talked. you watched, raising your eyebrows.

“okay, alright. stall him. i’ll be there in...” he looked at the clock on the wall. “twenty minutes. okay. thank you!”

ricky ended the call and turned towards you, a sheepish grin on his face. “yeah... so we may have to take a quick pit stop before i take you home.”

you glared at him. “you’ve got to be kidding.”

he wasn’t kidding.

as soon as you pulled up to his house, you text ashlyn.

you; help ricky is kidnapping me he just brought me to his house

ashlyn; if i didn’t know ricky i would be really worried rn

you; HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW HIM???

ashlyn; pretty well we’ve hung out a few times

you; oml

you; well he’s a kidnapper. and he made me get stitches

ashlyn; no way you needed stitches? what are you gonna tell your parents?

you; no clue!!!!! do i just casually tell them ricky bowen ran a door into my face???

ashlyn; fuck they probably wouldn’t take that well. i’ll figure it out and save ur ass. hang on.

you; you’re my favorite person in the entire world

ashlyn; i know

“you coming?” ricky asked from outside the car. you looked up from your phone, not even realizing that he had been waiting.

“oh, sorry.”

“no problem,” he mumbled. you get out of the car and he lead you into his house (past his six cars). it was huge. tall ceilings, brand new looking leather furniture, huge doors leading to the backyard, a spiral staircase. if you were being honest, it was pretty close to your dream house (or, one of your dream houses). you stared at it in disbelief.

“you, a seventeen year old, live here?”

ricky doesn’t look at you. he was staring into the yard, searching frantically. “yeah. been in the industry five years now, makes you a lot of money. i guess.”

“you guess?” he didn’t answer, instead suddenly pulled you out of the view of the backyard. he looked around, sees that it’s clear, and pulled you towards the stairs.

“keep your head down for a second,”

you put your head down and walk quickly next to him. “ricky, what the hell?”

“just... hang on.”

“why the hell are you pulling me?”

“shut up for a second.”

you stared at him, taken aback. “fine.”

once you got upstairs, he pulled you into a random room.

“here’s my guest room. make yourself comfortable i’ll... be right back,”

you folded your arms over your chest. “why the hell did you bring me here just to hide me?”

ricky looked at you with wide eyes. “no, no! i’m not trying to hide you, necessarily. i just... don’t think either of us want anyone to see you.”

“harsh, but fine. go, mingle or whatever. just be quick. i don’t want my parents to be more pissed than they probably already are,” he thanked you and ran out of the room quickly. you sighed and sat in a chair in the corner of the room, pulling out your phone.

ashlyn; talked to ur parents. told them that you’re with a friend of mine because you fell and he wanted to take care of you. they’re not... happy, necessarily. less pissed than before tho

ashlyn; u still alive over there?

you; yeah. ricky hid me in his guest bedroom so he could go mingle at some party i’m assuming his parents are throwing

ashlyn; OHH yeah his parents threw a party tonight, i don’t see why he needs to be there?

you; he told me on the way here that a producer of the show he’s trying to get a role in is here and he wasn’t supposed to leave home this weekend

you; idk or at least that’s what i think he said i didn’t rly pay attention

ashlyn; aren’t you just a kind ball of sunshine

as you were typing your response, you heard a guitar strumming from outside. looking up and realizing that the balcony door was open, you decided to go see what was going on. you looked down and saw ricky sitting on a stool, strumming his guitar. he started to sing— a song you didn’t recognize. you knew most of his music (in result from camilla blasting it around the house every chance possible) but this one sounded new.

you say you gotta think it over

i can't stop thinkin' of you

is he the guy you want to hold ya

i'll be here when you need me to

you listened, suddenly intrigued. this song was nice— gentle, almost. you actually kinda liked it. and he seemed at peace as he was singing in front of these people, he seemed genuinely happy.

make you feel beautiful in the morning

light you up when the rain won't stop pouring

'cause there's a million little things I haven't told ya

it kills me every time he's with you, so

ricky made eye contact with you and his expression almost softened when he saw you watching. he smiled gently at you.

he continued the song. he seemed to be in a trance, so focused on the song and perfecting it. as you listened to the lyrics of what was obviously a love song, you sighed. it was beautiful, but you didn’t think it was appropriate for you to just be standing here watching him, as if this was a big romantic gesture in a movie. before he finished singing, you turned away and left the guest room.

you made your way down to the garage, trying to avoid anyone who happened to be inside— for both yours and ricky’s sake. you slipped into the garage quickly and before you even took ten steps inside, ricky was behind you.

“what are you doing?” he asked, a happy expression still on his face from singing. your eyes widened at his expression but you shook the feeling off quickly.

“i want to go home,”

“alright. were you planning on walking?”

you rolled your eyes. “haha. no dumbass, i was going to wait for you in here. not walking to glendale.”

he grabbed a pair of car keys from the hooks. “hey, glendale’s not that far, you’d make it there alright.”

“yeah, a teenage girl walking the streets of california at random hours of the night by herself. definitely make it there alright.”

he hummed. “you did it earlier,” he winked at you and moved to open the passenger door of his blue car for you. you got into the car and he closed the door, going to the drivers side.

“what’s your grandmas address?”

you told him the address and he pulled out of the garage, checking to make sure no one was watching, pulled out of his driveway, and drove down the street.

“so, what are you in california for?” he asked after a couple minutes of silence.

“holidays. we haven’t spent christmas with my family in a while, and california with my grandma seemed like a somewhat neutral place for us and my aunt and uncle to come to.”

“and where are you from?”

“western new york.”

ricky whistles. “completely across the country. yikes. different time zone too, right?”

“yeah. and the jet lag is an ass, i’m exhausted.”

“oh i get that. when i go on tour... i do nothing but sleep, eat, and perform.”

“that is quite the life to live.”

“tell me about it,” although he obviously meant that as a joke, there was a lining of bitterness in his tone that you picked up on. you looked over at him, but he stared straight forward at the road.

“so,” he started again, obviously eager to change the subject. “ashlyn’s your cousin?”

“mhm, has been my whole life,” you joked and he rolled his eyes playfully at you. “i had no idea you guys knew each other.”

“you didn’t know she was talking to big red?”

“i knew she was talking to a boy, she didn’t mention who he was, other than showing me a couple pictures. didn’t even tell me it was nini’s birthday party she was going to tonight.”

“oh. yeah, ashlyn’s the best. big red’s really happy with her.”

“and she seems happy with him. turn left here,” you pointed and he moved over into the turning lane. he turned onto your grandmas street and her house was the second on the right.

“thank you. for the ride,” you said awkwardly as you opened the door to his car.

“yeah, sure. thank you... for not getting too pissed at me for making you have to get stitches.”

you give him a small laugh and sit for a moment, feeling like you should say something else, but finally deciding to just leave. you said a small bye and he gave you a small wave and you rushed into the back door of your grandma’s house.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Seven: How Sweet It Is

a/n: Welcome back friends! Thank you again for tuning in for another chapter of YBMH. It has been so much fun to talk to you lovelies and hear your thoughts, so keep them coming! I have to give a very special thank you to the wonderful @duckyficrecs​ for all of the love and amazing commentary so far, I really appreciate you!! Happy reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: unrealistic standards of men (sorry) 

Word Count: 6.8k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, and six

Alani’s eyes peel open and she squints at the clock on the bedside table that reads 8:53 a.m. The sun creeps in gently behind the thin curtains, casting the room in a soft, warm glow that pales in comparison to the light inside her chest. As she inhales deeply, the arm strapped across her midsection rises, but it doesn’t budge. Alani turns over carefully to face Harry still sound asleep with a light snore escaping from his parted lips. She fondly observes every detail of his serene features, from the tiny freckles atop his cheekbones to the curl of his eyelashes. As her finger glides along the slope of his nose and the indentation of his cupid’s bow, Harry stirs lightly and his arm tightens around her waist with a contented sigh. Alani drapes her leg over his hip and presses a feathery kiss to the middle of his brow that causes the edges of his sleepy mouth to twitch. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” she coos and Harry’s eyes flutter open slowly. 

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he replies with a deep rasp in his voice. 

She massages his scalp gently and he hums, planting a sweet kiss to the spot just over her heart. 

“Y’hungry?” Harry murmurs against her skin. 

Alani’s stomach growls in response and they both giggle. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,”

“Need a shower first,” she decides, sitting up. 

Harry groans at the loss of contact, but he manages to secure a hand around her wrist. “Ten more minutes,”

“Nice try,”

“Five?”

Alani grins before burrowing under the covers again with her cheek fit snugly against Harry’s chest. His knuckles skim over her arm as he fights the drowsiness weighing on his eyelids. 

“Did y’dream anything?” he mumbles. 

“I did,” she admits apprehensively. “But I don’t know if you’re gonna like it,”

“Why not?”

“Well, I sorta dreamt that I was married to James Marsden—the guy from The Notebook,”

Harry laughs gently. “Lucky bastard,”

“What about you?” Alani deflects, peering up at him with curious eyes. “Any dreams?”

“Not really. But I did wake up a few times in the middle of the night ‘cos you were hogging all the blankets,”

“I get cold!”

“Uh-huh.”

Alani presses her chilly toes against Harry’s shins and he grimaces, peeling himself out of the bed to escape her icy touch. With a self-satisfied chuckle, she swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slips away to the ensuite bathroom, chin held high as Harry trails close behind. 

********

Harry digs out a faded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his closet for Alani to borrow, and although it’s a small gesture, the sight of her in his own clothing fills his entire body with euphoria. He holds out a white t-shirt with the Volkswagen logo on it and a pair of grey sweatpants that she accepts gratefully. While she slips into his clothes, Harry puts on a pair of running shorts and a black hoodie with the image of Earth and the words “Spice World” on the front. Next, he digs through his drawers and produces a red bandana that is used to keep the damp hair out of his face, but Alani has already braided her wavy locks before he can find a similar garment for her. Harry extends a hand and Alani interlocks her fingers with his as they set out for breakfast. 

“Why don’t you go pick out some tunes?” He suggests when they reach the kitchen. “There’s a record player in the living room,”

Alani wiggles her brows and gives him a quick peck before venturing out ito the other room. Her eyes immediately land on a wall full of vinyls, and she excitedly browses them with delicate fingers. The Zombies, Bill Withers, and Sam Cooke are among the first in the collection, but her eyes widen when she spots a familiar blue cover. Joni, she gasps, pulling the record out of its sleeve. Alani quickly switches the player on and navigates the needle over the first track on the disk, turning the volume up and filling the room with the sound of a folk guitar. Harry’s ears perk up in the other room and the music brings a wide grin to his face. A few moments later, Alani reemerges in the kitchen, her hips swaying; she reaches out for Harry’s hands, which are occupied with the switches on the stovetop and a carton of eggs. He puts it down and gives Alani a twirl, which elicits a playful giggle that tugs on his heartstrings. His hands settle around her waist while her arms weave around his neck. They sway for a moment, hips flush with one another, before another soft kiss is exchanged. 

“Looks like I don’t need a ‘kiss the cook’ apron after all,” Harry jokes lightly, their noses still touching. 

Alani rolls her eyes with a scoff. “You haven’t made anything yet,”

“That’s because a certain dancing queen keeps distracting me,”

“Fine,” she starts to pull away but Harry immediately ropes her back in. 

“Not yet,” he smirks, lifting her with a quick spin. Alani shrieks and her arms tighten around his neck. 

“I see the lovebirds are up,” Mitch grumbles, the heel of his hand rubbing his tired eyes. 

The pair conceal their laughter and put a bit of space between each other, though Harry instantly misses Alani’s touch. 

“Morning, Mitch,” she says sweetly. 

The guitarist forces a smile on his face and reaches inside the fridge for a bottle of water. “Morning,” he returns, padding back to the hallway. “And keep it down, you crazy kids. Some of us are hungover and not in the lovesick way.”

Alani’s cheeks flush. “Sorry, mom.”

Harry snickers and he returns to the stove with a gentle shake of his head. 

They scarf their breakfasts down with legs woven together under the table and fingers interlaced. While their meals are identical, they take turns feeding off of each other’s plates and stealing sips of the other person’s drink. Harry feigns annoyance over the spilt orange juice on the t-shirt that he lent to Alani, though a part of him hopes it will leave a stain as a subtle reminder of this moment. It amazes the both of them just how quickly they had fallen into a shared rhythm, as if breakfast was a sacred ritual engraved into their muscle memory. But despite the natural ease that comes with each other’s presence, there is an impending sense of dread looming over Alani and Harry’s heads about the inevitable end to their domestic bliss. 

“I should probably get back soon,” she sighs, thinking of her younger sister waiting alone at the house. 

His stomach turns. “Do you have to?”

“Afraid so. Need to check on Pua and Freddie,”

Harry nods with a small sigh and collects both of their plates. “‘Kay,”

Alani follows him into the kitchen and her arms delicately wrap around his torso from behind when they reach the sink. “Are you upset?” she asks timidly. 

Harry’s heart cracks, racked with guilt over his petty behavior. It wasn’t her fault that she had to leave eventually, and it wasn’t right to take his disappointment out on her. He turns his back to their dishes and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“No,” Harry assures her with a soft, dimpled smile. “Could never be upset with my sweet girl. Just gonna miss you.”

Alani’s chest stirs at his words and she slots her needy lips between his. Now that they had tasted a little less than twenty-four uninterrupted hours together, being apart for more than one moment seemed near impossible. Harry’s fingers slip inside the back of her shirt, and his nails gently graze the outline of her spine with a sly grin. 

“I don’t think I’ll have what she’s having,” Jeff teases, sifting through a bowl of fruit on the counter. Harry grits his teeth and makes a mental note to plot revenge on all of his friends later. 

“Good morning,” Alani offers shyly, pulling away from his warm touch. 

Jeff smiles and waves with a banana in hand. “Buenos días. Always good to see you, Alani.”

“You too,”

He whistles a cheerful tune and roams into the living room, leaving the pair alone again. 

“I think we better go before we get caught.” Alani jokes weakly.  

********

The Range Rover pulls up slowly in front of Alani’s house and Harry’s grip on her hand tightens as he puts the car into park. 

“Where’re your parents?” he wonders aloud, reaching in the backseat for a spare bag that Alani can use to carry her clothes in. 

“Mom had a big surgery this weekend, so she stayed at the hospital to keep an eye on her patient. Dad is in California on this chef’s weekend trip with, like, Guy Fieri or something. Just me and Pua until tomorrow night,”

Harry hums, watching her stuff her belongings into the bag. “You working?”

“Yeah, I close tonight,”

Damn, he swears to himself. There go his plans. “What’re you doing until then?”

Alani shrugs with her hand already on the door handle. “Chores, I guess. You?”

“Probably nothing,” Harry sighs. “Missing you.”

She grins and presses an affectionate peck to his cheek. “Ditto, sunshine. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“I won’t miss it.” The new pet name makes his stomach twist, but the butterflies quickly turn to stones when she slips out of the car. 

Alani begrudgingly treks down the stone pathway when she hears loud music coming from the car behind her. Turning quickly, she spots Harry peeking over the roof of the SUV with the song “Baby Don’t Go” by The Supremes blaring from his speakers. She shakes her head playfully and blows him a kiss before retreating back to her house; He catches it in his palm and presses his palm to his lips. The song is still playing softly when Alani closes the door and she momentarily considers throwing all caution to the wind by inviting him inside. 

“I’d ask how your night went, but I think half the block knows that answer now,” Pua smirks with arms crossed as she descends the stairs. 

Alani offers a sheepish smile and clutches Harry’s bag to her chest. “Morning,”

“Are those his clothes?” her sister questions. 

“Yeah,”

“Okay that’s really sweet, actually,”

Alani shuffles through the house to make sure that everything is still in one piece and Pua follows close behind, anxious for all of the details about her older sister’s date. “So I wanna hear everything, but you can spare me the making out parts,” she insists. 

“What? Harry didn’t give you the rundown already?” Alani pokes. “I’m assuming you’re the one who told him about Angelo’s,”

“It may have come up once—casually, of course,” Pua admits. 

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but the confirmation that Harry had conspired with her sister melts her heart. “Well then, I guess I owe you some thanks for a perfect night,”

“It was all his idea,” Pua maintains with her hands raised in surrender. “But it was? I mean, really perfect?”

“Straight out of a movie,”

“He has that way about him, doesn’t he?”

Alani’s mouth curls gently. She couldn’t describe Harry’s allure better if she tried. “He really does,”

“I can’t believe it,” Pua muses with a starry look in her round eyes. “My sister is dating the Harry Styles. I can practically hear the millions of hearts shattering over the news,”

Out of all the thoughts running through Alani’s mind these days, the public’s response to her blossoming relationship with Harry was apparently last on that list. Fame hardly seemed to be the focal point of his life given how little he had to say on the subject, thus it was easy to forget that he was, in fact, a celebrity, especially when they were alone. But despite his reluctance to open up about stardom, it’s a conversation that Alani figures she should prepare for. 

“Speaking of,” she begins, making her way upstairs. “What are his fans like? You know, what should I expect?”

Pua considers it for a moment, searching for the right words. “Passionate I guess. Loyal,”

“And they’re all in love with him?”

“Can you blame them?”

Alani chuckles lightly and her chest swells as she reflects on her growing feelings for Harry. While she had initially wanted to believe that he was no different from any other guy, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stand by that judgement. His immense thoughtfulness was evident long before he had whisked her away for the evening of her dreams. Afterall, what famous person willingly agrees to help a stranger with their homework? And then there was Harry’s boyish charm and tenderness that no leading man in any romantic comedy seemed to rival in Alani’s opinion. Could never be upset with my sweet girl, his words echo. 

“No,” Alani exhales, her throat tightening with a sudden sense of longing. “I really can’t,”

Pua squeals and envelops her sister in a warm embrace. “God, I’m really so happy for you both. My favorite singer and my favorite sister,”

Alani hugs her sister tight and it temporarily quells the ache left by Harry’s absence. “Me too.”

“But if he hurts you, I will kill him.”

********

“Hey Harry, what do you think about Maui?” Jeff proposes, typing into his phone. “The resort’s got a private pool for every room,”

Harry blinks with a faint smile still on his lips. “For what?”

“Next weekend, maybe. Glenne and Jenny are thinking of meeting us there,”

The thought of going an entire weekend away from Alani makes Harry’s brows furrow. He was going on just five hours now and it was complete torture.

“Can’t,” he says quickly. “I’ve got—”

“You can bring Alani,” Jeff reassures him with a knowing smirk. “But you two gotta promise you’ll socialize,”

Harry blushes and his chest aches at the sound of her name. “I’ll ask,”

“Don’t make me say it,” Mitch threatens from the sound booth. Harry’s head tilts, challenging his friend to continue. The drummer clears his throat and coughs into his closed fist. “Whipped,” 

“You’re just jealous that your girlfriend couldn’t make the trip ‘cos  she’s too busy being a badass rockstar,” Harry shoots back coolly. 

“So we’re dropping the g-word, huh?” 

The singer casts his eyes down at the guitar in his lap and fiddles with the strings to occupy his hands. “Dunno,”

“He’s got it bad,” Tom teases, turning to Jeff Bhasker with a dramatic outstretched hand. “Alani, my dearest, how could I ever live without you?” 

“Oh, Harry.” Jeff raises his voice a pitch. 

Tom drops to his knee, clutching Jeff’s hand to his chest, and the group erupts into laughter. “Say you’ll be mine at once!”  

Harry relinquishes a shy smile and a dry laugh at his friends’ antics in an effort to be a good sport. “Very funny. Oscars for you both.”

 His idle fingers continue strumming the guitar gently as everyone else dissolves into their own conversations. The  phone balanced on his thigh pings, and though the notification has nothing to do with Alani, Harry decides to check in. 

Harry: How’s the weather?

He can’t think of anything particularly witty to say, but the mere action of sending her a message keeps him from dissolving into a puddle on the floor. 

Alani: Google is free, you know

Harry: Ouch. Trying to tell you that I miss you here :(

Alani giggles at Harry’s clingy show of affection. Truth be told, she also misses him deeply and resents the fact that she has to work instead of staying snuggled into his side all day. The smell of his shampoo lingers in her hair and it twists the knife deeper. She decides to snap a silly photo of herself, eyes crossed, and sends it off to him. 

Alani: Missing you too, my little pocket of sunshine ☀️

Harry’s heart nearly bursts from his chest when he opens the attachment, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. He quickly saves the photo to his phone before setting it as his lock screen. 

Harry: My god you’re going to be the death of me

Alani: The feeling is mutual 

It takes less than five minutes of admiring the photo for Harry to decide that he can’t go any longer without the real thing. 

Harry: What time does your shift start?

Alani: 5 minutes 

Swiping his wallet and keys, Harry slips out of the studio without another word. 

********

Alani ties her hair up and adjusts her apron as she heads out into the busy restaurant. She quickly falls into a rhythm of taking orders, clearing tables, and filling drinks while the minutes in her eight hour shift tick by. Before she knows it, an hour has already passed and her mind is completely occupied with her guests, but a familiar voice sticks out among the buzz of it all. 

“Excuse me, miss?” Harry pipes up from the counter, a bouquet of sunflowers emerging from behind his back. “Think these are for you,”

Alani fights back a smile, but it’s no use. She accepts the flowers gratefully and raises them to her nose.

“Why, thank you. They’re beautiful,”

“They’ve got nothing on you,” he suggests, leaning in closer over the counter. His eyes dart to her lips in silent prayer, but Alani clears her throat and scans the busy scene around them. 

“Can I get you something?”  

Harry peruses the menu with a serious dent between his brows. “Hmm sure, I think I’ll have the Chef’s Salad—dressing on the side—a lemonade, and a kiss,”

Alani smirks, accepting the menu from his hand. “The kiss is extra,”

“Make it two, then,” he offers expectantly, but she shakes her head in disapproval. 

“Kissing the waitresses isn’t allowed,”

“Well what if I don’t wanna kiss a waitress?” Harry counters. “What if I wanna kiss my…” 

He intentionally trails off to read Alani’s reaction, but she suddenly feels flustered by the implications of his statement and turns on her heel to put in his order. “I’ll go get your lemonade.”

“Alaniii.” he complains, watching her back away. She shoots him a wink over her shoulder and darts into the kitchen to avoid his further protests. 

The afternoon rush gradually subsides after another hour of Alani racing around the restaurant. Eventually, as she heads back to the counter to refill two iced teas, Harry catches her attention again and holds up his own glass. “I think something was missing in my lemonade,”

She frowns. “What was it?”

“Some sugar,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “Have any to spare?”

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but before she can quip back with something clever, one of her co-workers calls her to the kitchen. Harry slumps in his seat and picks at an olive on his plate. 

Two more hours go by and he silently watches Alani dart from table to table, hunched over a journal splayed in front of him. Alani’s eyes repeatedly linger in his direction as the night winds down and she knows without a shadow of doubt that more of his antics await, but she can’t resist wandering over to indulge his advances and her own curiosity. 

“Whatcha working on?” she questions with a quick glance at the page in front of him.

Harry beams, shutting the book and leaning against the counter on his elbows. “More pick-up lines,” 

“I admire your tenacity,” Alani chuckles lightly. “How long are you gonna stick around here?”

“How long you got left?”

“Three hours,”

“Then I’ll have another lemonade.” he says with a flash of his infectious smile. 

Alani swipes his nearly empty cup, but before she retreats to fill it again, her head lowers to his level and she plants a chaste kiss to his eager lips. “Didn’t wanna forget your sugar this time.”

Families come and go and tables are cleared as the sun disappears into the horizon. By the last hour of Alani’s shift, the restaurant is practically dead save for Harry, who eventually migrated from his perch at the counter to a more comfortable booth in the corner. The sight of Alani rolling out her shoulders across the room steals his attention away from his scribbles, so he stands and makes his way over. When his warm fingertips meet her tense muscles, she immediately sinks into the touch. 

“That better?” Harry murmurs, feeling her gradually relax as he works the knots at the base of her neck and shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Alani hums. The relief is instant just like it always is when he’s around. After a moment, she reaches up to where his fingers are pressed against her skin and she spins so they’re standing chest to chest, hands clasped. 

“Hi,” she greets softly. 

“Hiya,”

“I can’t believe you stayed here all day,”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s better than being at the house missing you. Besides, I got some work done, too, so I’d say it was a success overall,”

The edges of Alani’s mouth turn up and she pulls away slightly with their hands still attached. “Oh yeah? So are you finished with that book of pick-up lines, then?”

“Almost,” Harry laughs airily. “Think it might even be a New York Times Best Seller,”

“Maybe ditch the ‘have any spare sugar?’ one. It’s a bit saccharine, don’t you think?”

“Dunno, that one worked pretty well, if my lips remember correctly.” 

The corners of Alani’s mouth curl and she pulls away with their hands still attached. “Want some pie?”

“What kind?”

“Cherry,” she says, making her way over to the dessert bar. 

“The best kind,” Harry replies, taking his seat. 

Alani cuts out a generous portion and serves it to him. “I’m more of an apple pie girl,”

“A la mode?”

“Definitely,”

“You know,” Harry starts, cutting out a slice with his fork. “I used to work in a bakery,”

“Is that so?” she indulges him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the counter. 

 “Oh yeah. I’m a natural baker, it’s what they all used to say,”

“You’re gonna have to prove it one of these days,”

“Maybe I will,”

Alani rests her chin in her hand and watches Harry finish the rest of his pie, a content glimmer in his eyes. It’s ten minutes to closing time, so she wipes down the counter and starts the routine that she knows all too well. Harry sneaks off to the jukebox and sifts through the selections available, his tongue peeking through the corner of his lips when his eyes land on the perfect song. A gentle piano wafts through the restaurant followed by Diana Ross’ vocals singing a cover of “Bring it On Home to Me.” Alani hums the familiar tune and continues cleaning up before she feels an arm slink around her waist. She stops her work and turns around to face Harry who is singing the lyrics softly. 

“Bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin’, bring it on home to me,”

Alani turns slowly to face him and she watches his strawberry lips carefully, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever heard him sing in person. His voice is low and smooth with just the right amount of grit behind it. She savors the sound, wondering what he would sound like performing his own lyrics before her memory recalls the image of him stooped over his notebook, scribbling something secret. The pair begin to sway gently, Harry still singing as he pulls Alani closer. He slips one hand to hers and lifts it so they’re in the starting position of a waltz. She slips an arm around his neck and her head meets his shoulder, feeling the vibration of his voice against her temple. For the remainder of the song, everything ceases to exist but the two of them: two hearts beating against each other—beating for each other. Harry dips Alani gingerly as the melody begins to fade out and she cranes her neck just enough to grant him another tender kiss. Her lips feel like the first sip of water after a long journey through the desert, and he knows that he will never get enough as he pours every ounce of adoration and longing that he can possibly muster into the kiss. Slowly, he brings her back to standing with their lips still attached before pulling away to catch his breath. 

“I’ve never heard you sing.” Alani murmurs with her heart still racing. “Not like that,”

“I’ve never sung like that before,” he confesses, referring to the emotion behind the lyrics. “Guess I never really had a reason to.”

Alani’s breath hitches. Once again, she finds herself toeing the line between reality and fantasy. It often felt like he was too good to be true and this moment is no exception, but the delicate brush of his fingertips against her arm coaxes her back to the present—and very real— moment. Alani hugs him to her chest to feel the fierce beating of her heart and the drum of her own love song. 

********

“Did that sound weird?”

“Sounded fine to me,”

Harry chews on his lower lip, eyes pinched shut as he locates the correct pitch in his head. “No, it sounded weird. Let’s go again,”

“You got it,” Tom says over the sound system that floods into the recording booth. “Take two of Harry’s untitled thing, rolling,”

“That’s not what we’re calling it on the tape, is it?” 

“We are until you title it,”

Harry releases an amused breath. “Fair enough. Let’s just call it…” he hums and a faint smile creeps across his lips. “Let’s call it Clair de Lune for now.”

Tom scoffs. “Okay Debussy. Take two on Clair de Lune.”

“What does that mean?” Jeff asks, adjusting the levels on the soundboard. 

“It’s French for ‘moonlight,’” Mitch declares. “According to Google Translate.”

Alani peeks inside the back entrance of the dimly lit studio and immediately hears a faint chorus of laughter. She cautiously steps inside and follows the sound down a narrow corridor, treading lightly to go unnoticed. The familiar gaggle of voices grows louder as she reaches the end of the hall and up to the door of the sound booth left slightly ajar. Her head pops in first, index finger raised to her lips, and Jeff silently beckons her inside while Harry and Tom go back and forth over the sound system. 

“It’s fine—”

“—It’s not fine, it’s missing something.”

“So go again, but maybe try head voice instead of falsetto this time.”

Alani observes the scene with her back pressed firmly against the door to remain out of Harry’s sight. His presence at the café earlier in the week had been such a pleasant part of her day that she decided it was her turn to surprise him and show support for his work, which would undoubtedly be more interesting than watching her serve food for hours on end. The impromptu day off cost her a week of doing Pua’s laundry, but it was worth the chance of becoming a fly on the wall in the studio before eventually stealing Harry away for a few hours.

“I think I wanna do a harmony for this bit,” he says finally after a minute of playful bickering with Tom. “Can you send Mitchell in?”

The guitarist flashes two thumbs up through the window and stands, but he makes his way over to Alani, instead, and prompts her to go in his place with a conspiratorial wink. She slips inside the recording booth and Harry casually glances up from his notes, doing a double take and grinning wide when he realizes that it’s her. 

“Sweets,” he beams, hanging up his headphones to scoop her into a tight embrace. 

Alani’s feet hover a few inches from the floor and she giggles into the crook of his neck. “Hi, sunshine,”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“Just wanted to see you,” she admits, pulling away to relish in his dimples and bright eyes. “Well alright, maybe I also planned to kidnap you at some point, too, if that’s okay,”

Harry laughs and plants a kiss to her cheek. “Course it’s okay. Was just about to take a break and head your way, but you beat me to it,”

“Perfect,” Alani smirks. “So I’ll just wait for you to finish up here and then we can head out,”

The singer shakes his head before taking her hand and stepping over to the microphone.

“That’s a wrap for the day. Great work everyone,”

“You don’t have to do that,” she insists. “I can wait—”

“—Well I can’t. I’m dying to see where you’re whisking me off to.” Harry quips back, already escorting her out of the booth with a jaunty spring in his step. 

********

“You can open your eyes now,” Alani bids after putting Stevie into park. 

“Finally,” Harry huffs teasingly. “Missed your face,”

They share a lighthearted kiss before Alani nods to the passenger side window. “Aren’t you curious to know where I dragged you to?”

Harry’s head turns, a cheshire grin spreading across his lips as he catches a glimpse of the sign that reads ‘Akaka Falls State Park. “Hey! Déjà vu,”

“My reason for bringing you here is twofold,” Alani explains, reaching into the backseat for the supplies she had brought along. “I know you’ve been in kind of a writer's rut lately, so I figured some proximity to the falls might help. But I also thought that maybe you could flex your painting skills, too,”

A tote bag full of fresh paint, canvas, and brushes materializes onto the middle console between them and Harry’s eyes light up. He gleefully sifts through the materials before looking back at Alani with a tender expression. “Alani, this is amazing,”

“I want you to draw me like one of your french girls,” she jokes with batted lashes. “Sorry, I’ve been sitting on that one since yesterday,”

Harry’s eyes crinkle with unbridled laughter. “You’re the best,”

“You get me,”

“Well what are we waiting for?” he questions, stepping out of the car and into the fresh air. “We’ve got some masterpieces to create,”

Alani meets him at the hood, and her arm slings across his back as his rests around her shoulders. “Full disclosure: I’m terrible at arts and crafts. I think I was the only ten year old who flunked art class,”

“Nah, I don’t believe it,”

“It’s true!”

“But you’re good at everything,” Harry reasons. “Maybe you’re just one of those artists who weren’t appreciated in their own time.”

Alani scoffs, her gaze occupied with the way their steps fall into sync. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

They venture down the same route as their very first trip to the falls, though this time joined at the hip. The cerulean sky overhead and high summer sun provides the ideal subject for landscape paintings, and though dozens of tourists have also gathered to enjoy the perfect day, Alani and Harry are oblivious to everyone else. His cheeks flush with self-consciousness when she casually mentions the song that she had overheard him working on earlier, and he simply rubs the back of his neck and feigns ignorance when she asks what it’s about. It had always wracked his nerves to let other people hear his music before it was completely finished, but the fact that his current work-in-progress was heavily inspired by Alani only makes him that much more reluctant to share. While her curiosity begs to her to keep prying, she shrugs it off and refocuses on the lush scene before them as they reach Harry’s favorite lookout spot. 

“What’re you gonna paint?” he asks, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he picks out his supplies. 

“I don’t know,” Alani ponders. “What about you?”

“Something good—hopefully,”

“Have you ever painted before?”

Harry’s eyes lift to the sky, as if searching the clouds for his answer. “Sure. Loved art class when I was in school. It’s a good way to de-stress,”

“Have any favorite artists?”

“Keith Haring’s pretty great, saw some of his stuff in New York City last time I was there,”

“Oh yeah, he’s incredible,” Alani agrees, mixing some paint on her platter. “Hey, have you ever been to the Louvre?”

Harry nods and the tip of his tongue peeks through the corner of his lip in concentration. “Yes actually, once,”

“Lucky. Paris is definitely on my bucket list,”

“Good to know,” her comment is stored in the back of Harry’s mind for future reference. “Hey sweets, you’ve got something on your face,”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, riiiiight,” Harry leans in, silently dipping his pinky in a dollop of pink paint before pulling back and smearing it across the bridge of her nose. “There,”

“Hey!” she cries. 

Harry throws his head back and laughs. “I don’t know how you didn’t see that one coming,”

“You are such a child,”

“It’s fun, you should try it,”

Alani’s lower lip pouts. “Don’t wanna,”

“Sure you do,” Harry insists, holding out his plate of colors to her. “Go ahead,”

She releases a sharp breath and turns her back to him, strategically dipping her fingers in her own palette out of his sight.

“Sweets,” Harry coos. “Alani, hey, I’m sorry. That was a stupid—” 

Her fingertips meet the side of his face and slide down to his chin, leaving a trail of yellow, orange, and blue. “Oh, sorry. What were you about to say?”

Harry’s mouth hangs agape and he blinks slowly. “You know what, I’ll let that one slide,”

“No you won’t.”

“No I won’t.” 

Alani springs up from the bench and turns to bolt, but Harry’s arms snake around her waist and lift her in the air with one swift move. She shrieks, but she doesn’t fight his grasp and turns to face him instead, offering her puckered lips in surrender. Harry slots their mouths together with a satisfied smirk, but the spirited kiss quickly dissolves into laughter when their teeth collide.  

********

Alani flips her bedroom light on and ushers Harry inside. “Sorry about the mess,”

He steps inside and absorbs every detail, taking note of all the photos and trinkets on display. The walls are a shade of blush, which doesn’t surprise him, and the bed is tucked neatly in the corner under a skylight. String lights dangle along one wall above a desk piled high with books and magazines. A hanging plant in another corner catches his attention, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the presence of her own record player and collection of vinyls. A red, heart shaped rug in the middle of the room ties it all together, and Harry doesn’t think that it could possibly be more Alani. She plops onto the bed with her completed artwork and motions for him to do the same. When he makes himself comfortable, she turns the canvas over with a wiggle of her brows.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Harry applauds, admiring the blobs of colorful shapes that somehow coalesce into a perfectly admirable—yet unidentifiable—piece of art. “What is it?”

“It’s you!”

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” she begins, sitting up straighter to explain. “I really tried to go for the Keith Haring thing, but I added a little bit of my own touch to it. And there’s me too, see? The pink one in the back. And that’s supposed to be a palm tree but it looks kinda like a dude with green hair,”

Harry’s heart soars. “You made us into a Keith Haring?”

“I know it’s not as cool as what he would’ve done, but—”

“—It’s perfect,” he asserts. “I love it,”

Alani beams and she sits back on her heels, setting the painting against her nightstand. “Your turn,”

“Alright, well,” Harry clears his throat. “I also tried to emulate your favorite artist, so hopefully you’ll like it,”

He turns the painting over and a light gasp escapes Alani’s lips. She immediately recognizes the waterfall—the same one from ‘Akaka Falls that they had visited together twice now. Alani had had the slightest inkling that Harry was being modest about his artistic abilities, but she hadn’t quite anticipated this level of skill. 

“Harry,” she starts, breathless. “I don’t even know what to say. This is incredible,”

“It’s no Georgia O'Keeffe, but I did my best,” he offers sheepishly. 

Alani shakes her head with a small laugh. “I kind of hate you for saying that. It’s gorgeous. Blows my stupid kiddie craft out of the water,”

“Hey,” Harry tuts. “I love your painting, it’s so creative,”

“Yeah, well, yours is infinitely better and I love everything about it,” Alani states matter-of-factly, admiring each brushstroke and use of color. “So would it be okay if I—I mean… can I keep it?”

“Course you can, made it for you,”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits shyly. “It’s kinda like our spot, you know?”

A wide grin splits across Alani’s lips and she slinks her arms around his neck to bring him closer. “Yeah, I guess it is,”

“And the lookout where we saw that rainbow and had our first kiss,”

“Right,”

“Maybe even the café,”

“The whole island,” Alani hums. “And the sun, and the moon, and the stars,”

Harry smiles softly. “The sun and the moon, eh Mahealani?”

“Funny how life works out like that, isn’t it sunshine?”

next chapter

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter Three

Brought to you by: insomnia and the note that I had hurt someone with the last chapter. Also sorry I wrote this on my phone so typos.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

It’s.

Not.

Serious.

So, the next morning when you’re coming out of your apartment and you turn and see a leggy red head with her hand draped around his waist, you keep your eyes averted. You think quiet thoughts. You contemplate making a face like you forgot something so you can rush back inside and wait for them to pass. But just before you can imagine what facial expression could best convey “aw fuck, forgot my wallet” he turns and you catch his eye.

For half a second, its tense. Then, in an act that even amazes you, you smile at him, like he hadn’t just used you and your body and your fucking beer (which was expensive, by the way) as therapy nights earlier.

”Hey Javi,” you say. You pull the key from the door and stand up straight.

“Hey,” he says softly, not sure if he’s just been caught or if you really are this casual. To seal the deal, you check to make sure his date is looking up and elsewhere before you point to her and make a show of checking her out. Turning back to Javier, raise your eyebrows and hold up your hand, curling your forefinger down to your thumb in the universal sign of nice (👌). The dumbfounded look on his face makes you genuinely laugh, and you stride past the two of them with a smile.

“See you later, neighbour.” You call back without turning around. You don’t wait for a response before you let the door close behind you, and you’re stepping out into the sunshine.

You’re surprised you don’t fall asleep at your desk that day. Your neck is still aching from your sleep on the couch Sunday night, probably the second worst decision you made with your body all weekend. When you return to an empty stoop, you’re almost grateful he’s not there, sitting casually like he had just happened to choose that spot to sit and smoke. God, you really had been easy for him. One night of getting drunk and giving in and now you had to spend the rest of your tenancy pretending to be the cool girl neighbour who doesn’t care that he wallmate fucked her and chucked her.

Twice.

Its not surprising, really. Men have done this before to you, and while it sucks you should know better by now to view these kind of guys as the ones you use just as much as they use you. The only thing really hurting here, you think, is your stupid ego. It’s not even like you were going to try and date the neighbour. You didn’t really want to date anyone.

You stop in your tracks, midway up the stairs.

Yeah, actually- what were you complaining about?

You had a hot neighbour who was good in bed and showed he had no qualms about letting you crawl in with him. He wasn’t pressuring you to tell him how you felt, or dragging you out on dates you didn’t want to go on, or playing passive aggressive little mind games with you. He was just fucking you. And sharing cigarettes. Sure, maybe he came over and dropped some heavy emotional labour on your lap every once in a while, but he had paid you back for your time by making you cum so hard you honestly think you lost vision for a few seconds. And you actually did like hanging out with him on your little routine smoke breaks. Yeah. Yeah! This actually worked out really well for you, now that you thought about it critically.

Pleased with yourself, you wander over to your corner and pull a cigarette from your purse, bringing it to your lips. Just as you light it, from the corner of your eye you see a patch of blue walking your way. You look up and see Javi just as he notices you, making his way towards the steps. You smile and press the lighter into your pocket.

”Hey stranger,” you tease. His face is still a bit confused as he looks up at you once, ascending the steps.

“Hey,” he says, coming to stand beside you. He reaches into his own pocket and pulls out his pack. He pats himself down and you roll your eyes, pulling the lighter from your pocket and holding it out to him. He smiles when he sees it and takes it from your hand and, despite yourself, you smile too.

”Thanks,” he says before clicking the lighter and holding the cigarette out. He hands it back to you and the two of you stand in silence for a moment, watching the sunset across the sky.

”Some kid got glue in my hair today,” you say, taking another drag. You turn to look at him. “Lorenzo.”

“The one with the eye?”

You he told him about Lorenzo’s fake eye.

”Yeah,” you say, trying not to seem to impressed he remembered. “Took forever to get it out.”

Javier nods, taking a long drag.

“We arrested Escobar today,” he deadpans.

“ What.”

He turns back and smiles.

“I’m fucking with you.”

You smile, letting out a huff as you shake you head.

”Got me.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

You turn and see the preschool teacher - Maritza, you think - standing to your left. You had been in such a daze as you waited for the coffee machine to finish you hadn’t noticed her come and stand next to you. She was a cute, small woman with big brown eyes and severe bangs, and the way she looked at you now reminded you of a little kid waiting for their parent to give them the present behind their back.

”Probably getting drunk at home and watching bad tv,” you say, turning to face her. “What’s up?”

“A few of us are going out tonight,” she says. “We thought you’d like the join.”

You stop and think of all the reasons going out now, on a Friday night, with a group of other women, in the middle of one of the deadliest cities in the world, would be a bad idea. But you also think of the three day old arepas waiting for you at home and the empty, stale apartment air you’d be eating them in. Your last few months had fallen into such a boring routine (with obvious exceptions) that you had completely forgotten going out was even a possibility. You told yourself you would wait until you had a group of friends to go out with, just to make it safer, but the only person you had gone out with was Javier, just that once.

“Come on,” she said, her round face breaking into a cute smile.

You found yourself smiling back.

”Yeah, why not?” you say.

Maritza tells you she and her friends will catch a taxi over to yours around 8. Ridiculously, you feel giddy as you catch yourself hurrying home. While you had only had a few pleasant exchanges with Maritza over recess, she had the kind of chaotic energy that accompanies all women who voluntarily spend most of their time with children under the age of six, and in your experience those were the bitches who always got the wildest. You were negotiating with yourself how drunk you’d let yourself get when you turned and walked up the stairs, barely noticing Javi in your smoke spot before he called out to you.

”Hey hermosa,” he said. You snapped your head back up, your concentration on whether or not there was really that much of a difference in your behaviour depending on three to four drinks shot. You were just compromising with yourself that it really depending on the liquor when he had called out to you.

”Hey,” you smile, coming to a stop beside him. He holds out a cigarette to you and you take it, popping it in your mouth. Before you can ask he’s got the lighter, and you lean in for a light.

“Want to grab a drink tonight?” He asks once you’ve settled into your spot beside him. You shake your head.

”Can’t. Got plans.”

”Oh yeah?” He turns to consider you. You give him a nod, unable to suppress the smile.

”Girl’s night,” you say. “Preschool teacher asked me to join.”

”The one with the bangs?”

You had told him about her bangs.

”Yep. The popular girls noticed me.”

“Where are you going?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Nope. You are not invited.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t-”

“Oh sure,” you say.

“You should just be safe, is all.” He says. “Stay out of certain places, you know, walk home together.”

“Believe it or not, this is not my first night out of the house ever.”

He frowns. “It’s dangerous. Just be smart.”

“Thanks mom,” you take a drag and turn towards him, your arms crossed. “And what shout I tell Bobby if he wants to go all the way?”

He scoffs and you break out in a grin. Shaking his head, he tosses his filter and moves around you, making for the door.

”Fucking smart ass.”

You’re always too eager to be on time. It’s a bad habit. It always ends with you showing up to parties too early and then it’s just you and the host making small talk over the fruit salad they thought they had at least another half hour to make. Whatever. Tonight that means you just get to spend the next hour looking really hot in your own apartment.

You find yourself standing still for a moment, wondering what you should do. Sitting down and reading seems like a weird thing to do when you’re dressed like this, but neither does sitting and watching tv. You wish for a minute you had been more picky about make up or hair but everything has set and you don’t want to risk fucking with it. You make for your kitchen and pull the bottle of tequila from the cabinet, reaching to grab a glass. You take a quick shot and are about to pour another when an idea runs through your head. You walk down and across to the wall opposite of the couch and knock three times.

You hear faint movement from the other side and grin to yourself.

“Javi?” You call.

A moment later, you hear a muffled “Yeah?”

“You want a drink?” You wait for his response, but instead of answering you hear his door open and close. You smile, pulling another glass from the cabinet when there’s a knock on your door.

“It’s open,” you shout, pouring two fingers into one of the glasses. A moment later he walks in, his eyes on the floor.

“You should really lock that,” he says, turning to watch you walk down towards him with two drinks. His eyebrows raise as he looks you up and down, and even though you’re supposed to be the cool girl who is very unaffected by her hot neighbour who she just sometimes fucks, it makes swell with some pride.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got a cop next door.” You hold out the glass for him. His eyes flick back up from your waist as he reaches out to take it, wetting his lip with a dart of his tongue.

“Can’t get over here that fast enough.” He says.

“Hm,” you walk over to the wall. “Two knocks for ‘help’, three for ‘I’m fine.’” You demonstrate.

“Or you could just lock your door,” he looks at you over the rim of his glass. You roll your eyes.

“Such a cop,” you toss back your out drink. You wipe your mouth as he watches. “My parents would kill me.”

“Drug traffickers?” He asks

“Almost. Hippies.”

He cracks a smile at that. “This when you tell me your real name is Moonbeam or something?”

“It’s Starlight, actually.” You sit on the couch and gesture for him to join you. He follows your lead, sitting in the exact spot where only a week earlier he had post coitally confided in you. You try and ignore it.

“I’m an agent,” he corrects you.

You kiss your teeth. “Even worse. They’d keel over if they found out baby Starlight fucked ‘the man’.”

“You haven’t for a while,” he says, reaching out to lay a hand on your ankle. You’re embarrassed by how the electricity shoots up you leg, directly to the apex of your thighs.

You laugh. “A week is not a while.” You kick your feet onto the floor and stand, walking back to the kitchen for more drink.

“You sure you want to go out tonight?” He turns and watches you as you pull the cork from the bottle and pour yourself a third drink. So much for that negotiation. You wonder if you can buy bread on the way there. Surely. “My offer for a drink still stands.”

“Mmm, I wonder what that’s code for.” You sit down on the other side of the couch and, feeling bold, stretch your legs out again. “Thank you, but I already told them I’d go.”

He shrugs, bringing the drink back up to his mouth. “Gonna be a boring night,”

You tap his thigh with the tip of your heel. “First I need to be safe, now it’s going to be boring?”

He shrugs again. “Just saying. When you’re disappointed later, you know where I’ll be, hermosa.”

You’re not disappointed.

You and Javier drink for a while longer, swapping stories about Texas and being an expat and dumb, innocuous work shit when you hear a cacophony of giggles followed by a rapid series of knocks at your door. You stand and grab your purse, Javier following in your step as you swing open the door and see Maritza with her two friends, tipsy and giggling on your mat.

“Heyyyyuu guapa,” Maritza says. You’re thankful you weren’t the only one drinking early. The woman behind her- tall and beautiful, you’ll learn her name is Alessa- offers you a small bottle of liquor. You raise you hand to take it as all three of their eyes flick towards the man approaching from behind you.

“Ladies,” he says, hovering behind you. You can’t see his face, but you know the smug bastard is loving every second of this. You recognise the look that flashes across their faces as their eyes flick from him to you, and you smile as you take a quick swig from the bottle.

“Javier was just leaving,” you explain, reaching back and ushering him out by the shoulder.

“Does he have to?” The third girl - Lisa - asks. Alessa gives her a quick seat on the arm.

“He does,” Javier answers, nodding. “You ladies have a good night.” His eyes meet yours for a brief second before he’s turning and walking to his apartment. The girls watch him as he disappears inside as you lock your own door, and when you turn around to tell them you’re ready, the looks on their faces are demanding answers.

Fuck it. You’re drunk.

“Yeah, I am.” You laugh, and all three of them squeal.

Fuck. You had forgotten how fun this was.

The taxi ride over had been a whirlwind of questions and much to the annoyance of the driver, you answered each and every dirty one with as little detail as to remain polite but still subtlety brag that you indeed were fucking the hot guy in your apartment. You missed having girlfriends to gossip with, to giggle over sex and boys. Alessa was married without any kids, but she turned out to be the most curious about you and Javier’s situation. Even though there wasn’t much to tell, you were high on the attention and leaned into each question, a little surge of what could only be feminine pride exploding in your chest when the women blushed at your answers and squealed in delight.

Maritza had said she knew the owner of the club( “she’s lying, she doesn’t know shit.” Lisa laughed with you as she handed you the bottle) you arrived at, and disappeared for a few minutes before reappearing at the back and waving the three of you in. Turns out the owner was actually the janitor, but the result was the same: four passes inside without having to pay. (“Not that we would,” Maritza had said. “But just in case.”). It was thrilling, sneaking through the dark hallways, each of you with their hand on another woman’s shoulder as you giggled, trying to keep quiet. You were drunk enough that you let Alessa pull you onto the dance floor as Maritza and Lisa went to the bar to get drinks. The lights and sounds were overwhelming and you felt blissfully lost in the sea of bodies that, to you, seemed to flow together. When the girls returned, some fruity concoction in their hands, you were already sweating for exertion, and felt larger, warm hands encircle your waist.

For a brief, fleeting second, you thought Javier had followed you to the club, but upon turning around you realised it was very much not Javier. This guy was younger, maybe even a few years younger than you, with big hazel eyes that somehow - alcohol? Magic? - shone through the pulsing lights of the club. Deeming him handsome enough to allow it, you turned and began to grind against him, for a few songs. Finally, during a lull in the music, he leaned forward.

“You’re a shit dancer,” he said

You laughed before reaching back up and pulling him back down to whisper in his ear. “I’ve got better rhythm on my back.”

Messy. But it got the point across.

You felt his thumb on your chin, tilting you up to face him. When he kissed you, he tasted like chapstick and cheap beer. It wasn’t warm or soft or desperate, but it was nice. And nice was enough for you tonight.

The girls behind you cheered in approval when they saw you. Blushing, you turned back to face them, grinding your ass against the growing hardness in your partner’s jeans. At some point during the night you were separated, but you quickly forgot about him when it was Lisa’s turn to pull a man. Doing your friendly duty, you cheered along with Alessa and Maritza as you watched her lead the tall stranger back to the bathrooms, only to reappear fifteen minutes later slightly rumpled but much happier. She did three shots after that.

The night continued to go well- true to you hypothesis, Maritza was a wild card. At some point she managed to crawl on the bar and convince three different men in soccer jerseys to take a shot from between her breasts, before reaching behind the bar and stealing a whole bottle of vodka while the barkeep was distracted. It was only about fifteen minutes before she had passed the bottle to every member of the soccer team when the manager finally noticed and kicked the whole group of you out.

As you stood outside, the four of you giggling and hovering around the equally drunk soccer players, you felt a hand wrap around your waist. Turning, you recognise your dance partner from earlier.

“Hey,” you say. Behind you, your new friends are busy flirt-arguing with the soccer captain.

“Hey,” he says back. “You want to get out of here?”

You give him the once over. He’s cute, toned, and he’s wearing the same jersey as the rest of the teammates. You laugh and look over to the line of taxis, wondering if you’re really about to take this guy up on his offer.

“How old are you?” You ask.

“25.”

You shake your head. “You look like trouble.”

“I am.” He smiles, and you catch those hazel eyes once again.

Fuck it.

You catch a taxi pretty easily, and once you two are in the back seat he’s all over you, pulling you against him to kiss your neck and fondle at your top. For a grown man, he acts like a boy getting to touch his first tit. You send an apologetic look to the driver when you arrive at your apartment after he pays, but quickly forget your embarrassment when he catches you around the waist and pulls you into a sloppy, messy kiss. You’re giddy off the drink and the energy of the night and kiss him back with equal finesse. After a moment you realise you’re still in the street and reach down to take his hand. You’re just outside your apartment door, shamelessly making out, when Javi’s door swings open.

Oh. Oh to be able to record the way Javier’s face falls the moment that cocky smile and planned, snide comment he had ready dies upon seeing another man draped around your back, sucking at your neck. He must have heard you return and come out to bully you into admitting it wasn’t really a fun night without him, and now he’s standing frozen, the extra cigarette you imagine was meant for you caught between his fingers. The man currently sucking a welt onto your neck looks up.

“You want a picture or something?” He asks. You swat his arm and turn, unlocking the door to your apartment quickly before they can engage in some bullshit machismo. You reach down and take your companions hand and urge him to follow you in before shooting Javier an apologetic look.

“Sorry Javi,” you say. “We’ll keep it down.”

And you shut the door behind you.

Look. You weren’t trying to get revenge. It just turns out Isaac (that’s his name) is really, really good at sex. That, or you’re really really drunk. Either way, you’re not the quiet partner you usually are. It doesn’t help that he, unlike the last person you slept with, has a young, heavily exercised back and can flip you into positions like the two of you are competing in couples ice dancing at the fucking Olympics. You even remember, in between rounds, to shove a sock between your headboard and the wall. Not that that really helps, when you’re about eight tequila drinks in and a young, stupidly ripped athlete is railing you from behind.

You also really, really didn’t think that in the morning you would be even awake enough to fuck, let alone do the breathy moaning that’s falling out of your mouth now as he hoists your leg over his side and pumps into you, flicking at your clit like he’s playing a guitar. You honestly, in your still drunk haze, forget that Javier is even on the other side of your wall.

When the two of you finally finish and Issac turns down your offer for breakfast, you throw on a sundress and walk him to the door. The two of you pause before opening the larger door outside, and he leans down to kiss you and assure you that, although it’s such a bummer his team has to go back to Cali, he had a great time with you. You play along, letting the kid have his ego stroked, and kiss him before he turns and heads out the door, into the morning and out of your life. Still smiling to yourself, you don’t realise Javier is standing in his doorway, lit cigarette dangling from his lips with his arms crossed.

“When’s the wedding?” He asks, and you know he’s trying to play it off, to be the cool guy in all of this. But you also hear that buried edge in his voice, and you know you’ve gotten under his skin.

Smiling, you saunter up to him and pluck the cigarette from his lips, holding his gaze as you take a long, large inhale.

“Oh Javi,” you sigh, exhaling. “It’s not serious.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Sin In The City {3}****

OFC Nalani x Lewis Tan x OFC Lynix Mini Series

Warning: Cursing, NSFW AT ALL, SMUUUUT, FILTH, Threesome, Girl on Girl Action, PLENTY OF WORDS, Grocery Eating 😉, First Person POV

Words: 12.9k 🤣🤣

Summary: Nalani and Lynix have been friends since they first grew hips and tits. They do everything together. When Lewis tells Nalani that he’s in Vegas for the weekend and invites her to come out, she jumps at the chance, especially when Lewis says the more, the merrier to bringing Nix along. The long weekend goes from a fun time to putting the “sin” in Sin City thanks to a secret plot Nalani concocts.

Note: As you know @munteanhorewrites and I are HUUUUGE Lewis Tan fans. The man is just absolute deliciousness and the whole entire package. So, Ru and I got to talking about him currently being in Vegas for the long weekend, and we thought, why not treat you guys while indulging ourselves. This is going to be a four-shot miniseries where Ru and I will each write two chapters for the four-day weekend of sheer debauchery. Thank you @munteanhorewrites for suggesting we combine our evil powers. Mwhahahaha! 😈😈

We hope you enjoy this. As always, thank you guys so much for reading. ❤️❤️

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

Note 2: Bold Italics are an internal thought. Plain Italics are a memory. Plain Bold text messages. Please excuse the slip ups with “I” and “your”. I would have checked it but I was exhausted! 😭

Chapter Legend:

-Chapter One: @royallyprincesslilly

-Chapter Two: @munteanhorewrites

-Chapter Three: @royallyprincesslilly

-Chapter Four: @munteanhorewrites

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Three: Thirst Comes at You Fast

 -Nix-

Groaning, I rolled onto my back for the umpteenth time. The brightness of the sun was blinding, and it was even worse because you had barely slept a wink. Thanks to what I’d seen last night, I tossed and turned and had the most salacious dreams I’d had in a long time. If I were honest, those dreams were downright filthy even by your standards. Now I wasn’t some innocent little thing. Not in the least, but over the last night, I’d dreamt of so many things.  

 It began with sitting on the couch right in front of those large windows and watching the show Lani and Lewis were putting on. I imagined sitting there with one of those expensive bottles of champagne just sipping as Lani took every inch of him down her throat. From the looks of him, she was taking quite a few inches and then some. The way he stared at me was unlike the way anyone had looked at me.

 I could tell that Lani was doing an excellent job from how his lips curled up at the side and how every so often his he grunted, making it echo over the waters of the pool. It was the sexiest sound I’d heard in a long time, and it should have been shameful how quickly it made me wet, but I felt no shame. All I felt the entire night was the slickness between my thighs that never seemed to go away, the heat in the bed though the air conditioner was on all night, and the sheets were silk and always remained cool. Whenever I found a comfortable spot, I had to roll seconds later because of the intense desire that coursed through me. It was frustrating, to say the least.

 There were three things that made me cranky and bitchy. One, when I was over hungry. Two, when I was exhausted. Three, when I was horny with no way to relieve myself. This morning I’d found myself struggling with numbers two and three, and one was steadily creeping up on me. As I showered, I still couldn’t get what I’d witnessed last night out of my mind. This time I zeroed in on the way Lewis had gripped Lani’s head and fucked her throat. The sounds coming from her made it seem like he was hitting places in her throat she’d never known.

 Without even realizing it, my hand crept down my belly to the apex of my thighs. Quickly, I pulled my hand away and hit the tiled wall.

 “Fuck! This cannot be happening.”

 My head ran to Lani’s words from the other day.

 “How would you feel about a threesome with me and Lewis.”

 She was serious. I knew it from the look in her eyes. When Lani was serious about something, she had this determined look.

 “You don’t need to be alone. It can be a one off thing. I’ll take care of you; Lewis will take care of you. It’ll be fun.”

 The thought of that had me pausing as the soap washed from my body. If I was honest with myself, that didn’t sound half bad. There were benefits of threesomes; I thought to myself as I tried to formulate a list of pros and cons.

 “Pro, complete pleasure on all fronts.”

 Just thinking of the possibilities for pleasure had goosebumps peppering my skin. As soon as I began thinking about that pleasure, I thought of a con.

 “Con, pity fuck.”

 That was all it took for me to eighty-six the idea and finish up with my shower. Once out, I tackled the daunting task of my hair. That alone usually took me almost an hour, depending on the style I chose. Today I wanted something sleeker, which meant busting out my flat iron. Deciding on a chill look for the day, I opted for as little makeup as possible before making it to my luggage to choose my outfit for the day.

Once I made it downstairs, I could smell the food and coffee and knew that Lani and Lewis had probably already started without me. It was fine. I needed that extra time to myself to steel myself to be in the same room as him, especially after last night. When I descended the steps and turned into the dining area, Lani was the first to see me. Her face brightened like the sun after a sun shower as she got up and made her way to me.

 When she threw her arms around me, I returned the embrace. From behind her, Lewis sat at the table still. His eyes met mine, and again, the look in them was enough to light a match on sight. He was the one to look away first, though.

 “You decided to take your sweet time this morning,” Lani teased.

 “Yeah, I just needed some me time.”

 Lani peeped into my eyes while crinkling her brow, nonverbally asking if I was okay. Giving her a soft smile, I rubbed her back.

 “I’m good best friend.”

 The two of you walked back to the table. Lani walked around it to sit beside Lewis again.

 “Good morning Nix.”

 The way he said my name made butterflies flit in my belly. Swallowing the small lump that had formed in your throat, I spoke. “Good morning.”

 Once I was sitting, I reached for the orange juice pitcher. If I were lucky, it would be mimosas. Pouring it into the glass, I took a small sip and sighed. Bingo, I thought.

 “How’d you sleep?”

 Glancing at him, I nodded. “Great. I mean, not great, but fine.”

 “What happened?”

 Lani was pouting now.

 “Nothing really, just tossed for a bit. It was so damn hot,” I informed as I piled my plate with an assortment of the food on the table.

 “I wasn’t hot last night. It was cold. I had to snuggle close to Lew,” Lani expressed.

 “Yeah. We were fine. Maybe it’s one of those things you just have to—ride,” Lewis suggested.

 I could feel his eyes on me, and ninety-five percent of me said don’t look up, don’t chance it to find out. The other five percent said just take a peek; that one peek won’t hurt.  It was that five percent I listened to. When I looked at him, he’d just popped a strawberry into his mouth. My eyes instantly dropped to his lips, and I watched him chew the fruit. He did it impossibly slow. When he snaked his tongue out to lick his lips, I could have come just like that. When I looked back to Lewis’s face, his eyes were on me.

 The way he looked at me had a fire creeping up my spine so slowly that its burn felt like a blaze that fanned out throughout your body. He knew he had sex appeal, and from his look alone, he knew how to use it as a weapon.

 “So--,” Lani stretched out bring my attention to her.

 “Maybe we should talk about the elephant in the room.”

 Crinkling my brow, I put a piece of the strawberry pancakes that were in front of me into my mouth.

 “Last night. Me and Lew. You saw,” Lani enlightened.

 My eyes dropped back to my plate as I pretended to intently focus on swirling the strawberries around in the strawberry syrup and powdered sugar mixture.

 “It’s okay, Nix; you don’t have to be embarrassed about it. We didn’t think,” Lani explained.

 “It’s fine. It’s his penthouse and your—you can do whatever.”

 “Funny choice of words,” Lewis murmured before he tilted his head back and dropped a few blueberries into his mouth.

 Glancing at him, I saw Lani rest her hand atop his chest as she smiled then whispered something in his ear. Lewis smiled and kissed her. Watching the carnal kiss between them, I couldn’t look away. As I was going to, Lewis’s eyes met yours again. It was probably one of the most sinful things you’d seen. As he was passionately kissing Lani, he was giving me eyes that said come join in.

 I have to be imagining that.

 Lowering my eyes, I focused on the food and tried to ignore the moans across the table. I usually wasn’t a prude, I was pretty free with my body and inhibitions, but I felt as if I were crowding them for some reason. Like I shouldn’t be there.

 “So--,” Lani began again a sing-song in her voice.

 She was in such a good mood. Why wouldn’t she be? The effort I’d seen her put into getting all that thing in her mouth said he gave her several inches of reasons to be happy.

 “It’s cool, Lani, I understand. What’s the plan for the day?”

 Lewis and Lani looked at each other and smirked before Lani sly shrugged.

 “I thought we could hop on some ATVs and ride through the desert,” Lewis piped up.

 Lani’s eyes widened at the same time mine did.

 “That sounds so fun but dirty,” Lani said.

 “Getting dirty is all the fun,” Lewis said at the same time I did. Our eyes met again, and I saw the playfulness in them.

 “See, Nix gets it,” Lewis added, making you smirk.

 “Okay, ATVs in the desert it is,” Lani confirmed at the same time my phone rang.

 Glancing down, I realized it was Cesar. I would have rolled my eyes, but right now, I needed the distraction.

 “I’m gonna--,” I began pointing to my phone.

 “Yeah, you can use the office around the corner if you need some privacy,” Lewis offered.

 I rose from the table with my phone in hand and made my way to the office. Before I turned the corner, I heard Lani shout after me.

 “That better not be Caesar’s clingy ass. I rebuke him!”

 Pinching my lips, I dipped into the room but heard Lewis’s voice before I pulled up the door just a bit.

 “Who’s Caesar?”

 Leaning on the edge of the executive size desk, I looked out the window and answered.

 “Hey, Caesar.”

 “Hey there, angel face.”

 The sound of the pet name he’d always called me had me smiling for a few moments.

 “I went by your apartment earlier. Were you asleep?”

 “No, I’m not in Miami.”

 The silence on the line stretched.

 “Oh yeah? Where you at?”

 I thought about it for a little while. Caesar was a jealous guy. He was also territorial. It always led to an argument of some sort. At times I didn’t mind it, but other times, it was a pain in the ass.

 “Nix,” Caesar breeched.

 “Vegas for the weekend,” I replied.

 “You alone, or is Lani with you?”

 “What’s with all the questions?”

 “I just miss you. I wanted to spend some time together.”

 I walked closer to the floor to ceiling window and gazed out over the view of Vegas. The sin in sin city was resting for now, but I knew it would awaken once again by the time six hit.

 “C, we talked--,” I began before he cut me off.

 “You’re tryna tell me you don’t miss me?”

 I almost laughed out loud. I didn’t miss him per se.

 “C, let’s not do this.”

 “Wow, Nix. Are you fucking kidding me? For the last month and a half, we’ve been working on getting back together.”

 “You’ve been working for that, C,” I thundered before lowering my voice a tad bit lower to continue. “You’ve been the one fueling this. I told you that I wasn’t sure. I told you that it might not be a good idea.”

 “What am I supposed to listen to? Your words or you spending nights at my apartment?”

 He was right. I’d muddied the waters by turning him into my sporadic fuck buddy even though I knew it was a bad idea.

 “Horniness was the root of all evil and bad decisions,” I whispered out, pressing my forehead to the glass.

 “What was that?”

 “Nothing, C. Look, how about we talk when--.”

 “Everything okay in here?”

Glancing back, I saw Lewis filling the doorframe. He wore a pair of dark ripped jeans that hugged his long legs so well and a black short-sleeve Henley that accentuated the size of his biceps and showed off how good of a shape he was in. Unconsciously my teeth sunk into my bottom lip. He looked fucking good.

 “Who the fuck is that? You said it was you and Lani.”

 Cesar’s voice was so loud it had me coming to my senses. I pulled my eyes from Lewis and looked back out the window.

 “Yeah, everything is fine,” I replied to Lewis before responding to Cesar. “C, we’ll talk when I get back.”

 “No, who the fuck is that? Nix, don’t play with me,” Cesar cautioned. I could hear the jealously in his voice.

 “We’re ready to go. Thought I’d come to get you,” Lewis informed.

 “Yeah. C, I gotta go.”

 Before Cesar could respond, I ended the call and sighed out.

 “Are you okay?”

 His voice was coming from behind me. When I turned, he was resting on the desk with one leg up and the other planted on the floor.

 “Uh—yeah, fine,” I lied.

 “You don’t look okay. You didn’t sound okay a little while ago. I hear you shouting.”

 Nodding, I shrugged, trying to play off your annoyance. It was your own fault.

 “Boyfriend?”

 “I told you, I don’t have one of those.”

 Lewis nodded and sipped from the glass I just realized he held. From where I stood, it smelled tropical, and you guessed it was some fruit juice.

 “Okay, so not a boyfriend—maybe a friend with benefits?”

 Lewis quickly clenched his jaw. It was so quick I almost missed it. That one action had my interest piquing all the way up. What was that for?

 “I don’t have one of those either. He was a horny mistake,” I admitted before turning my back to him again.

 “Ah, horniness. I see. You settled, and now you can’t get rid of him. Sucks to be you.”

 I felt his breath brush against my ear, and the scent of pineapple and grapefruit hit your nose. I could also feel the warmth from his body. He was close. Holding my breath, I kept my body as still as possible and waited for the moment to pass.

 Lewis now stood beside me, looking out the vast windows you were. Neither of you spoke. You focused on the tease in his voice. He was taunting me. Every so often, the soft clinking of ice against crystal echoed in the room, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. Not that I could ever think that. His scent was too powerful. He smelled earthy like he walked through the thick of Guam's forests, then went to the mountains of Tibet to soak up the scent of freshly fallen snow and fresh air. To top it off, I could pick up faint traces of salt. Not cooking salt but the salt of the ocean. The other subtle hints of rose and some exotic flower only made him that more delectably alluring. It was such a good scent.

 “In life, I’ve learned that lesson. Never settle. No matter what it is, never settle. You deserve the best, and the best will come.”

 I looked at him at the same moment he looked at me. Our eyes lingered, but we didn’t speak. There didn’t feel like there was a need to.

 “Plus, you’re too beautiful for the universe not to bend to your will,” Lewis finished.

 My belly fluttered, and without even realizing it, my body swayed sideways. By the time I realized it, I was leaning so far sideway that I lost my balance. With reflexes like nothing I’d ever seen before, Lewis reached out and caught me, pulling me to his body. That was when my skin decided to shoot fire throughout my body. The beauty in his cognac eyes only served as another distracting factor. Now that I was closer, the scents that were subtle before were now more prominent.

 I wonder if he tastes like the sea.

 The thought was a quick one, but it also quickly ruined you. Feeling my nipples bead underneath my thin shirt, I silently prayed he was none the wiser. A flicker of fire sparked in his eyes that made them appear slightly darker. I watched his tongue slowly snake across his full bottom lip. He was wiser. He’d noticed.

 Before he could speak, I pulled away but did it a little too quickly. Lewis’s hand slid from my back to my hips and steadied me. Once I was steady, he didn’t lower them; instead, I felt him squeeze my shapely hips. I thought of moving but I couldn’t. Seconds later, it was Lewis who stepped back, dousing that magnetic energy between you that had encompassed the room.

 “Em—you might wanna--change for the desert,” Lewis suggested.

 Without a word, I walked out of the room and hurried to my room, the whole time admonishing myself for whatever the hell that was.

 Once the three of us got into the chauffeured car, I’d managed to pull myself together and find my chill and detachment. I kept one ear on the conversation in the car, so I could respond when needed. For the most part, I was lost, creating a new blog post about your weekend while going through comments on your post on IG yesterday. You were going to ignore the hot man in the car as long as you could.

 When the car rolled up to our destination, my jaw dropped. For as far as I could see, there was nothing but sand. It gave me a sense of peacefulness.

 “This is gonna be so lit,” Lewis said as he clapped his hands before he dropped a heavy-handed slap to Lani’s ass, making her squeal and giggle.

 “Lewis,” Lani whined as he led the way chuckling to himself.

 For the next fifteen minutes, we listened to the rules, safety precautions, and expectations. After there was a quick demo on how to operate the ATV, then we all signed waivers. Once the formalities were out of the way, each of us ran to an ATV. The one I chose was a camo printed one that looked so badass. I was so excited, and once I climbed on, I glanced over to Lewis, whose eyes were already on you, but they were not looking at my eyes. They were much lower on your ass. Scoffing, I shook my head then revved my engine.

 “Get into it!”

 With that, I sped off, leaving Lewis and Lani in my wake. It didn’t take long for Lani to pull up beside you. she shouted out into the open air then sputtered, spitting out sand.  I couldn’t help but laugh at her. Hearing a sound on the other side of me, I turned and saw Lewis. He was now in a tank with his shirt tied around his mouth like a mask. Genius, I thought. I could hear his muffled words but couldn’t make them out. Shrugging, I spoke into my helmet mouth guard.

 “Sorry, can’t hear you above the sound of you eating my dust!”

 Picking up the speed, I pulled ahead. When they caught up again, I swerved in another direction and did it again and again. Each time I swerved, someone took over the lead. Neither of us kept lead for long. Each one of us had a strong competitive side.

 A few hours passed with desert riding. Lewis was the one to be the show-off. He did flips, standing tricks, and other dangerous stunts while Lani and I looked on with our mouths wide. His adventurous side called to me, making it impossible to steer clear of your rapidly increasing thirst for him.

 It also didn’t help to watch on as he and Lani kicked up the PDA. Almost every time I glanced around, Lani was either hugging on him from the back of his ATV, or his tongue was down her throat. They were cute, but it only made me think of watching them last night, and that made me think of Lani’s suggestion for a threesome. That suggestion hadn’t left my mind all day. I was still so frustrated that the idea of it was not as gobsmacking as it had been. The more and more Lewis’s eyes found you or parts of my body from across the desert, the further away from shocking you got.

 Because of Lani’s whining over how sandy she was, we took a break letting her clean off a bit. I didn’t mind the dirt. While she cleaned up, it left Lewis and me alone. We played around on the ATVs, just acting like kids. It was a lot of fun. After a while, I suggested we stop to capture some of our surroundings for my blog and social media. Lewis agreed, wanting to get his own shots.

 I took video after video and even recorded a few short ones before taking several selfies. When I looked over to Lewis, I watched as he unbuttoned his jeans to peel them off quickly. There was no way I could look away. I was confused as to what he was doing and, honestly, who would look away. Once free from the jeans, he pulled off his tank leaving the scarf he’d worn from before.

 “How is it possible for him to look like he belongs in the desert too?”

 The wind picked up, and the sand blew around him as he stared out toward where the sun shone. My eyes traveled over every dip and curve of his perfectly lean and toned body. No wonder Lani was in heavy lust. He looked like he not only broke backs but possibly parts of the female anatomy.

 Lewis looked back, and for a few moments, it looked like he was walking in slow motion.

Holy Shit.

 Before I even realized it, he was standing in front of me.

 “You got a little drool,” Lewis teased before he hopped onto the bumper of your ATV.

 “Whatever. You wish.”

 It was a weak rebuttal and nowhere near believable. We sat in silence for a little while, taking in the scenery.

 “It’s beautiful huh.”

 “Yeah. Makes you feel like the only human left on earth,” I added.

 “Well, if I were the only human left on earth, I’d want you with me.”

 Our eyes met again, and my heart raced, making me look away. Again, the silence stretched until you found something to say.

 “I’m really sorry about last night,” I began.

 Lewis snorted, making you look at him again with confusion etched on my face.

 “What’s so funny?”

 Lewis didn’t speak right away; instead, he studied me as if he were looking for something. He sighed then licked his lips.

 “Do you know what I see in your eyes?”

 “What?”

 “You’re not sorry.”

 My jaw dropped, and my eyes bugged. “What!”

 “Yeah. You’re not sorry you saw. You’re sorry you got caught,” Lewis cockily informed.

 “Caught? What am I a child? It’s not like I snuck out there to spy.”

 “No, I know that. I do know, though, that if I hadn’t looked up and seen you, you probably would have continued watching.”

 He got me there. I probably would have. It was a good show.

 “Again, your eyes say it all. Not only are they completely hypnotizing, but they’re also very expressive.”

 Was he hitting on me?

 The look on his face said he might have been, but his eyes were masked. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

 “All day, I’ve been trying to figure out if your physical reaction to my touch is an instinctual thing or if it’s more.”

 Wow, I thought. The man was so self-assured. He didn’t come off insecure at all. It was both attractive and slightly annoying. No man should be that confident. I looked away and hopped off the ATV, sinking into the sand. Before I could walk off, I felt his body behind me, barely touching me, and his hand spread across my stomach, keeping me in place.

 Oh, fuck. This is not what I needed right now.

 Lewis didn’t speak. He just remained perfectly still. The longer his hand remained on my stomach, the hotter it seemed to get. I didn’t know how long passed with us standing like that, but I was sure it was long enough for the heat from his hand to sear away the high waist of my biker shorts. It had to have been. It felt like there was no barrier between his hand and your skin.

 On your left, you felt his other hand slowly snake up the length of your arm. Where it went, it left an agonizing burn that slowly at away at you. By the time Lewis’s hand made it to your shoulder, he moved your hair so his head could gently touch the side of your face. Still, the smell of his skin wasn’t masked by the sand all around him. It hadn’t done anything at all. I heard him take a deep inhale before he moaned.

 “I know what you want, Nix. I can see it every time I look into your eyes. Fuck I can feel it. All you have to do is say the words.”

 I could feel his touch on my neck as if he really did touch me, but alas, he never did. He was so close. All he had to do was tip out his tongue. Lewis released a guttural groan.

 “Put us both out of our misery, Sunshine,” Lewis finished before he released you and walked away toward an approaching Lani.

 “Son of a bitch.”

 ~~~~~~~~

It was lunchtime, and I was starving and hornier than I’d been before we left. Only now it wasn't because I’d inadvertently saw Lewis and Lani together, no it was because of Lewis’s words. I had no idea what he meant by he knew what I wanted. How the hell could he know that? I didn’t even fully know what I wanted. Every few hours, it changed.

 When Lewis, Lani, and I got back to the penthouse, we showered and changed, then made it to another beautiful restaurant. Deciding not to pretend I were less hungry than I was, I ordered whatever I wanted. As we all ate, the conversation was never strained. Lani told stories of the countless adventures we’d had, all the while never leaving out not one embarrassing detail. Throughout the stories, Lewis looked genuinely interested. He listened with a tuned ear and sincere interest. I liked watching the different emotions light up his face. It was like reliving the memory but through someone else’s eyes.

Every once in a while, Lewis’s eyes found mine, but again they were masked and almost detached. It was an interesting change from earlier, one that had me doubting what I thought I saw and heard.

 At times when he spoke to me, his choice of words always threw me. When asked if he wanted more of the dim sum, he looked at me and said, “I want it.” When Lani complimented her food, Lewis looked at me, bit his bottom lip, and said, “Bet it tastes good.” I squirmed, shifted, and tried to handle it throughout lunch, but the last thing he said threw you. We were all eating dessert. I’d chosen something simple like a sorbet while he and Lani went in on some decadent chocolate, vanilla, and cherry concoction. They took turns teasing me about wanting it. It was Lewis who locked eyes with me and rocked all reserve with his “you want this deep inside.”

 What the fuck was I supposed to say to that? I had no idea, and he knew I had nothing. He also knew he’d had an effect. He’d had such a profound effect that my panties were now uncomfortably soaked. Asshole, I thought. He knew he was one; the sly smirk on his face said it. You watched him dip his spoon into his mouth and moan. He was pleased with himself.

 After lunch, I had steam to blow, so gambling was my suggestion. What else would bring almost as much pleasure as sex than winning more money than you came with? We went from table to table, placing bets, dropping chips, and claiming double what was wagered. Lani was a pro at Roulette, which she proudly showed off, winning two grand like it was easy. I was a monster at Blackjack. No matter the casino, or the deck of cards, or even those around me. I dominated the Blackjack table for almost two hours, winning hand after hand until management capped my winnings at six grand. I understood. They didn’t want me cleaning them out. Lewis was an ace at Poker and Craps and gladly let his cocky side.

 Before every roll of the dice, Lewis held them out for both Lani and me to blow on. The first time he held them out to me, I was confused. That was when he said, “Blow me.” The look he gave me had way too much effect on me. His amusement from my delayed reaction was evident, and he enjoyed making you pause. Roll after roll had him winning game after game at the Craps table. Every time he won, Lani wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged his head to her breasts.

 Their antics brought so many eyes, including mine, but I was having so much fun winning that I didn’t care when Lani pulled me into a sandwiched hug with Lewis in the middle leaving his head was pressed between yours and Lani’s breasts. Lewis crept his hand around my hip, resting it right at my hip bone. That was when I could have sworn I felt lips slide across my nipple. The instantaneous reaction began with my nipple hardening and my back arching slightly, all while a soft moan rolled from my lips. When I glanced down, Lewis was looking at me, and for a second, I forgot where I was and who I was.

 Lani cleared her throat, pulling my attention to her. The look on her face said all you needed to know. She was liking the way things were going.

 When I shied away from Lani and Lewis, I tested out a few of the slot machines wanting to try your luck there. It took some time for your streak to start, but there was no stopping it once it did. You struck gold every time you pulled down the handle on the side of the machine.

“Either you’ve got the Midas touch, or you’re rigging the machine.”

 You turned and saw Lewis standing there looking at the machine.

 “How would I have rigged it?”

 He shrugged and leaned on the seat I was sitting in. “There are ways.”

 “I just have the Midas, I guess.”

 Lewis smiled and nodded. “Looks like it. How much have you won today?”

 “More than you make in a month,” I teased.

 The laugh Lewis let out brought so many eyes to us, and he didn’t seem to care. I liked that he didn’t pay attention to others and focused on being himself.

 “Wow, you have quite the sass, huh.”

 I shrugged and pulled the lever again. We watched the screen as the images rolled in, showing off another win.

 “I should keep you by my side at all times. You just may be the luckiest woman I’ve ever met.”

 Before I could answer, another voice to my left drew my attention.

 “I second that.”

 He was tall, with a perfect jawline that was so chiseled it could have cut steel. His eyes were a deep green close to the color of seaweed, and his smile said he should work as a game show host or something.

 “Name’s Brian. I couldn’t help but watch you. You’re gorgeous.”

 On your right, Lewis scoffed in such a way there was no misinterpreting what it meant.

 “Uh—Lynix,” I replied.

 “Such an exotic name, almost reminds me of a Lynx cat, of course, sexier,” Brian added.

 “Oh boy, here we go,” Lewis chimed in. I glanced at him with a curious look, wondering why he was acting like this.

 “You are?”

 Lewis turned to the newcomer crossing his arms over his chest, making his biceps pop in the polo shirt he wore.

 “Don’t worry about all that. No one asked you to come over here.”

 My jaw dropped because that sound a lot like possessiveness. Brian stood tall and turned to Lewis as well.

 “Who can stay away from a beautiful woman like her? All I wanted to do was get next to greatness,” Brian slid in, making me smile. He was smooth. Looking at Lewis’s face, he didn’t look amused.

 Right when Lewis was about to say something, Lani came by giving Brian the once over.

 “What’s going on?”

 “Nothing,” I answered before Lewis could. Lani looked at me then, Brian. It was her asking if she wanted him gone. I slightly shook my head. I wanted to play this out.

 “Who’s your friend?”

 “This is Brian. He was just about to take me for a drink. Right, Brian?”

 Brian looked surprised by that, but not for long. A few seconds after I said it, his smile spread again.

 “Absolutely.” He held out his arm and waited for me to take it. When I did, I glanced at Lewis, whose jaw was clenched and eyes blazing. You knew a displeased man when you saw one, and he was definitely displeased.

While I had a drink with Brian at one of the bars and listened to him talk about his time in Vegas, I saw Lani and Lewis at the bar as well. They were drinking and whispering, having a grand ol’ time, but every so often, Lewis glanced over to you with the only annoyed look on his face. When he did, Lani looked amused, giving me a look that said she peeped it. Halfway through my drink, my phone went off.

 MSG Lani: Pity fuck huh. 🙄 

 I looked at her, narrowed my eyes then gave her the same eye roll she gave me in text. She wasn’t funny, not one bit. However, she might have a point, I thought. As I continued my conversation, Lani and Lewis came over to join you. Lani went on Brian’s right while Lewis came up to your left. He was close enough for me to smell the dark rum that swirled with his cologne. While Lani talked to Brian, he focused all his attention on her.

 “Another horny mistake?”

 His voice was a whisper that made it easier to smell the rum he was drinking. Lewis took another sip from his heavy crystal glass, but he didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes on the plethora of bottles decorating the wall of the bar.

 “Who said I was horny?”

 Lewis then looked at me and smirked. “Aren’t you?”

 I looked over the features of his face and got lost on his lips. They looked soft and well cared for.

 Jesus, I’m lusting.

 “Are you?”

 Lewis took another sip then sucked in a slow breath through his mouth. He didn’t speak for several moments. He just stared into my eyes like he was looking for something.

 “If you only knew,” Lewis whispered before looking away to finish his glass of Rum this time.

 “I’m sure Lani can help with that. There are plenty of corners, although I doubt you two need corners or privacy.”

 In seconds you felt Lewis’s breath on my ear. “What do you need, Nix?”

 Holy Shit!

 Though I tried, I couldn’t get any words to pass my lips. Not one.

 “All you have to do is say the words, tell me,” Lewis whispered again, his lips softly grazing my ear.

 My heart was racing so fast that I was sure there was no way he didn’t hear it. I was also sure that he could smell my arousal. I was that wet. Someone’s phone went off, and the unexpected sound broke the tension of the moment. Clearing my throat, I stood and adjusted my skirt.

 “Dinner. I think we should get to dinner,” I stuttered, walking away.

 I needed to get upstairs to that bedside drawer, and I needed to get there now. The car ride was the longest. As I sat there beside Lani, I couldn’t stop squirming. Every move I made, the slickness between my legs only turned me on more.  

 MSG: Did you tell him?

MSG Lani: Tell who what?

MSG: Don’t play innocent with me, Lani. Did you tell him?

 Lani looked at me, and I narrowed my eyes. There was no way she didn’t bring up her threesome plan to him. He’d gone from mildly seductive just from his aura to extremely panty soaking in one day. Lani rolled her eyes and tapped into her phone.

 MSG Lani: I did, but before you get mad, it wasn’t any serious. I just said I mentioned it to you.

MSG: Lani!

MSG Lani: Don’t be mad. It’s no big deal.

MSG: What did you say?

MSG Lani: That I’d asked, and you turned me down. He wanted to know why, and I said you had your reasons.

 I didn’t fully believe her.

 MSG Lani: I promise it’s no big deal.

 Sighing, I slipped my phone between my knees, leaned back, and willed the car to hurry up.

 Once we got back to the hotel, Lani said she’d meet us upstairs because she wanted to book a spa treatment for tomorrow. I didn’t need to be told twice. The elevator ride with Lewis wasn’t uncomfortable; it was more tense than anything else. Both of our eyes remained on the changing dial as the floors ticked away. Neither of us spoke. When I did have the courage to look over at him, I saw that his jaw clenched, his arms crossed, but his back was straight as an arrow.

 Unexpectedly Lewis looked over to me, and it felt like he was daring me to do something. His lips were curled into a sly sort of smile before he bit his bottom lip. My belly fluttered, making me drop my eyes, but when I did, it landed it on something unexpected. The bugle in his pants had almost all of your reserve falling, leaving only one measly ounce. Thankfully, the doors opened into the hall leading to the penthouse. I made a mad dash toward the door and inside. Not sparing another look at Lewis, I hightailed it to my bedroom.

 Once inside, I stripped and hurried into the shower, hoping that the water would help with the slickness I felt that only fueled my arousal even more. It was next to impossible to stop thinking about someone bending me over in the shower, but somehow you managed to focus on getting clean rather than getting dirtier.

 After my shower, I only felt less wet but still horny as ever. I was barely able to get through putting on my makeup. My hands kept shaking at the worst times, and my concentration was shot to shit. I’d wanted my makeup to match the dress I planned on wearing, but I couldn’t even get that together for the life of me.

 “Get your shit together, Nix.”

 Another few minutes found me just giving up on the elaborate eye makeup I’d wanted and dropping my brush in frustration. I rested my forehead on my hand and took a few deep breaths.

 “Fuck it!”

 I got up, walked over to my bed, and laid down. Once I reached inside the drawer to get my vibrator. Instead of using it our the gate, I slipped my fingers between my legs, only becoming half surprised to find I was already as wet as I’d been before I got into the shower. I ran my fingers up and down my slickened slit once, then twice and third. Each time I shuddered from the delicate pleasure that rolled through me. A soft but husky moan escaped my throat.

 Dipping my fingers into my heat, I brought the slickness back to my clit and circled the desperate bud. It wasn’t long before I’d closed my eyes and focused on the pleasure that was increasing by leaps and bounds with each passing second. Dripping my thighs back to the bed, I sped my movements making tight circles rather than the bigger ones from before.

 “Oh my god, yes!”

 There was no way I was going to last much longer. I could already feel the tension filling the pit of my stomach. Dipping my fingers back inside my cavern, I used them to replicate what I imagined Lewis did. At the thought of him, my eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling. While Lani was giving him head, I hadn’t been able to see just what he was blessed with. The only indication I’d gotten was from the constant gagging Lani did. She had said that he was more endowed than anyone she’d been with. I was curious now.

 My fingers had sped their plunge, and with it, so did the moans that fell from my lips. Soon your moans and whimpers cascaded from you. By the time I wondered if Lewis could hear me, I was too far gone. It was then I looked down my body to find Lewis at the door watching me. I should have screamed and clamped my legs shut or even hid from shame or embarrassment, but I didn’t do any of that.

 Instead, I bit my bottom lip and slowly took my fingers from my body to bring them back to my clit.

 “Mmmm, yes.”

Lewis took a few steps more into my room and toward the bed. Our eyes never left one another, and the longer he stared, the more turned on you were becoming. When Lewis made it to the bed's foot, his eyes dropped to your sex, and another whimper escaped you.

“Fuck!”

 His voice was strangled, and his eyes on fire. Earlier it looked like it was anger or annoyance, but now it was neither of those.

 “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Nix.”

 Lewis dropped to the floor, coming eye level with your sex. He then took a deep inhale.

 “Mmmm, you smell incredible. Do you taste as good as you smell?”

 The combination of his voice and his words had my back arch slightly off the bed.

 “Does it feel good, Nix?”

 I nodded.

 “Tell me how good.”

 “So—So—good.”

 Lewis groaned, focused on your pussy. He looked almost transfixed. After a few seconds, his jaw dropped, and I could have sworn I saw a little drool at the corner of his mouth, but before it dribbled, he closed it again.

 “Goddamn, you’re so wet. Be a good girl and show me.”

 I brought my hand away, dipped it into my heat, and pulled it back to show him the slickness that coated my fingers. I heard an audible growl fill the room. The fact that it came from him only ruined me more. Dipping my fingers back inside, I did what I knew would get me off.

 “That’s right. Fuck that pussy, Sunshine. Show me how you like it.”

 Bringing my other hand into the mix, I circled my clit then looked at Lewis again. He looked like he’d inched closer, and I wanted him to bury his face in to take over.

 “Mmm, you’re so tight, I can tell. Spread that pussy open for me.”

 Doing as I was told, I spread it, but I never slowed the tight circles around my clit. I was so close.

 “You’re gonna come? Come for me, Nix. Let me see how beautiful you are when you come.”

 My whimpers turned into whines, and my tight circles turned sloppy and staggered as did the speed of my fingers thrusting in and out of my sopping core. In seconds my toes curled, and I’d bent off the bed as if I was a bridge.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck Lewis!”

My body shook for several long moments as I rode the waves of ecstasy and relished the tingles that spread through my body. I’d been holding a lot of tension, and now I could feel the little bubbles popping in thin air as they exited my body. When I looked back at Lewis, he was so close. Inching up, I withdrew me soaked digits and brought them to Lewis’s lips. Without needing to be told, he opened his mouth and sucked each and every one of my fingers clean.

 “Mmm, you taste amazing. Let me clean you up and eat that pretty pussy baby. I want it so bad.”

 That was what you wanted to. It amazed you how badly you wanted him to clean up the mess you’d made of yourself. As you opened your mouth to speak, you heard Lani shout your name. Lewis looked as if he’d found his senses. He rubbed his forehead and sighed before he stood from your bed foot.

 “I’m—sorry.”

 With that, he was gone. Though you were satisfied, I could feel the heat rising again.

 An hour later found me dressed, collected, and at a steakhouse with Lani and Lewis. Thank to my release, my body was more relaxed now, but my mind was a chaotic erotic nightmare. I couldn’t stop replaying what happened in my bedroom and he gall I’d had to feed him my fingers to clean off. The fire I’d seen in his eyes and the yearning I’d head in his voice was something I hadn’t expected.

 Would it really be a pity fuck?

 Lani flirted with Lewis using her seductive touches and whispers, and I could tell that he was hanging on but barely. Deciding to toy with him a little, I did what Lani did, but more subtly. When she ate off his plate, I did too. When she held his hand on top of the table, I slyly allowed my body to touch him underneath the table. When Lani leaned into him, I leaned over him to take a piece of food from Lani’s plate. The whole time I knew that he could see my cleavage.

 By the time we’d moved on to dessert, Lewis was the one squirming and downing his drink like his thirst was unquenchable. I loved seeing him squirm. He thought he had this power and control. He needed to be humbled to realize just which sex had the power in the world. When Lewis went to talk to the owner of the restaurant, I filled Lani in and tried to get whatever information she had. I knew she couldn’t be an innocent bystander, and she wasn’t.

 “I can’t believe you told him that.”

 Lani nodded. I saw the remnants of his drink and finished the glass.  The burn of the dark liquor was intense against my tongue.

 “So, he’s been acting like this all day on purpose?”

 “Lani smirked, giving the answer away. I couldn’t help but snort, bringing my hand to my head, smacking myself.

 “If you needed more evidence that you’re attracted to him or him attracted to you, then you have this entire day. Hell, you have the casino.”

 I looked at Lani silently, asking her to continue.

 “I saw how he was when that guy came over and flirted. Lewis can keep his cool about a lot of things, but I can always tell when he’s jealous.”

 “Jealous!? Lani, get real. That’s yo man. He wouldn’t be jealous.”

 Lani pulled me closer to her and rested her chin on my shoulder. “Why do you think I was so adamant about you coming this weekend?”

 Glancing to her, my brows crinkled, wondering what the hell she was talking about.

 “As I said, I’m only cool with sharing with you. A while ago, I knew Lew would like you, and I couldn’t think of anything better than having you by my side while we have some fun.”

 Snorting, I shook my head. “Lani--,” I began.

 “Stop frontin. You know you like him. You know this whole day you’ve been horny and wet for him.”

 At that moment, a thought filled me, making me gasp loudly, snapping my head to Lani.

 “Oh my god, did you put him up to this Nalani?”

 “Damn, my whole name, huh.”

 “You did!”

 I dropped my forehead into my hands while resting my elbows on the table. I couldn’t believe this. It kind of felt like my best friend was pimping me out to her sexy as hell fuck buddy.

 “Lani, you’re pimping me out.”

 “I am not. Think of this as more than sex. This could be something.”

 Rolling my eyes, I sighed, “Like what, a contractual fuck buddies situation?”

 “Shut up. No. Like he flies us where he goes, and we soak up the culture of the world while enjoying his company and the perks of it,” Lani explained, raising her eyebrows for emphasis.

 “Oh my god. We don’t need anyone to help us soak up the culture of the world, Lani. We do good on our own.”

 “True. It’s just—sometimes, it’d be nice if someone took care of us the way we take care of ourselves. Ya’ know?”

 I did know. I understood her completely. While it was great being able to do things and get things for yourself, it was also nice to be taken care of by someone on a different level. Sighing, I sat back and pondered her words. She had a point. Maybe I needed to just give in to what I really wanted. From across the restaurant, I could see Lewis talking to the owner. They were laughing like they’d been long time friends. The comfort between the two was evident. When he glanced back to Lani and me and pointed us out, the owner said something to him with a smile on his face—a smile Lewis returned with a nod.

 “Let’s head out. I think we can find a club that’s more up to our speed,” I said to Lani, raising one of my eyebrows.

 The excitement on Lani’s face said it all. She knew what time it was.

 When Lewis came back over, we took a picture with the owner. Lani and I were in front, stooping down like the Charlie’s Angel’s Charlie’s Angels wished they could be, while the two of them stood behind us. It was a dope picture.

 In the car, I whispered to the driver where to take us while Lani distracted him so he wouldn’t suspect a thing. Thankfully the drive wasn’t too long since everything in Sin City was in short distance. When the car pulled up, and we piled out, I watched Lewis’s jaw drop when he saw the name of the establishment.

 Treasures.

 Lewis looked at both Lani and me as if we’d grown a pair of extra heads. Lani wrapped her arm around my waist and led me to the door.

 “Enter if you dare,” I teased, walking inside with a giggling Lani.

Once inside, we waited for Lewis to catch up. It was only a few seconds before he was behind us, draping his arms over both our shoulders.

 “Now, why would you ladies lure me here?”

 “Lure? Did we lure, Nix?”

 “Not at all. If we were to lure you, it would look like this.” I began turning around to face him while walking backward.

 “Are you coming?”

 Lani was the first to join my side, and then Lewis did the same with a wide smile. We walked to one of the empty lounges and sat with him in the middle.

 “Hi there, welcome to Treasures. I’m Pinky,” began a beautiful woman with pink hair, cheek piercings, and deep brown eyes.

  As I looked lower over her mahogany skin, my eyes couldn’t help but take in her incredible breasts that were barely concealed by her bedazzled bikini top. I didn’t know if they were implants of natural, but it didn’t matter. I bet they brought in plenty of horny men.

 “Hello, Pinky,” Lewis replied, leaning back on the lounger with a smile.

 “What can I get you three? Food, drinks, one of the girls?”

 Lewis looked at Lani, then me licked his lips and smiled again. “Whatever you ladies want.”

 Lani and I exchanged looks for a few moments communicating nonverbally.

 “How about a bottle of dark rum to get us started and maybe a girl for a dance,” Lani requested.

 “Sure thing? Any preference?”

 Lani and I smiled and replied, “Black and beautiful.”

 Lewis chuckled, “I third that.”

 When Pinky left, Lani leaned to Lewis and took out something rolled from his sports jacket's inner pocket. Lewis offered her the light, and I watched as she took a few puffs then released the smoke. When she did, I could tell just what it was.

 “Who knew weed was your cup of tea,” I said, leaning back and crossing my legs.

 “Ha, there’s plenty you don’t know about me,” Lewis answered before he took a few puffs of his own. When he finished, he held it out to me.

 “Let’s hope by the time the sun comes up; you know me a lot better.”

 Those were more than empty words. I took the blunt and took several long drags from it, closing my eyes to allow the substance to work its way to my brain.

 Who knows, the odds of that statement becoming true were getting more and more likely.

 Fifteen or so minutes later, once the three of you had the bottle of rum open and taking turns gulping from the three hundred dollar bottle, a dancer named Lioness was doing her thing on the small table before us. Her outfit was perfect and showed off all her best assets—everything. When she approached Lani, she shook her ass in her face, to which Lani slapped one of her cheeks. Almost instantly, she gasped and held her hands back in an apologetic way. Lioness didn’t seem angry; instead, she sat in Lani’s lap and proceeded to give her a lapdance. Lani’s squeals said she was having a good time.

 “Oh no,” I whined, holding up the blunt that was now too small to hold.

 “Not to worry, sunshine, daddy’s got more,” Lewis said, showing the inside of his jacket.

 I smiled and reached for one coming even closer to his face. Glancing up, our eyes met, and that’s where they stayed.

 “You’re blazed,” Lewis said with a wide smile, one I returned.

 “Don’t laugh at me.”

 His smile softened, and his hand came to my cheek. “I’m not babygirl. I have better things I’d rather do than laugh at you.”

 From the side, I saw Lani nod her head, and Lioness approaching like a predator coming for her prey.

 “I hope this lapdance is one of them,” I said, nudging my head, making him look back to see Lioness approach to dance in front of him.

 “Wow.”

 Lewis leaned back and looked over her body, which gave me the time to light the new blunt. After taking a few puffs, Lani whined for her turn. We traded her for the blunt and me for the Rum. When Lioness sat in Lewis’s lap, he laughed. While he looked to be having a good time, he didn’t look to be on the brink of losing control. I got up and slinked around Lioness to Lani. As she took a puff, she held it out to me to take one. After I did, I gulped a mouthful of rum and moaned as it burned its path down my throat.

 Lani stood and began swaying to the music in front of you. The instrumental version of Desperado was blaring in the club with a slowed-down dub. It sounded a lot more seductive than the original.  Lani took the rum and handed me the blunt. As I took another drag, I leaned my head back and moaned. When I looked over to Lewis on the couch, his eyes weren’t on Lioness. They were on Lani and me. That was when the most devious idea popped into my head. Whispering to Lani to clue her in, she looked at me and gave me her sinister smile.

 I dug into my clutch, took out a few bills, then walked over to Lioness, tucked it into her jeweled thong, and whispered a thank you. Her smile was soft. She got the hint. Lani and I walked toward Lewis, held out our hands, and waited for him to take the bait. It wasn’t long before he did. Pulling him to us, Lewis’s body collided with ours.

 “Not interested in the dancer, baby?”

 Lewis smiled, took the blunt from my lips, and took a long pull from it then smiled.

 “How can I be when you two are right in front of me.”

“I think he wants a show of his own, Lani.”

 Her smile widened before she bit her bottom lip. “Then follow us, daddy. We’ll give you a show you’ll never forget.”

 Lewis’s smile slipped as he looked between the two of us. We’d sure gotten his undivided attention now. We turned then walked away to one of the rooms that were marked “private.”

 Once inside, the mirrored walls threw our reflections back. I walked to the mirror and fluffed my hair, and rubbed my lips together. My body was tingling, which was normal for when I drank and smoked. It was a pleasant tingle, one that had me feeling loose.

 “Oh Nixy,” Lani sing-songed making me turn to see her at the music player.

 The song that she’d chosen was a personal favorite. She walked to me while circling her hips. Once to me, she walked around me once, then went around to my back and placed her hand on my hip. Following her rhythm, I circled my hips with her and handed her the rum bottle. As she drank, I bent forward just a little, poking my ass out and onto her. Lani quickly slapped my ass, making me laugh. Soon we were both giggle loudly until Lewis’s figure in the center of the room caught our eye.

 “Forgot about me?”

 “Never, daddy,” Lani said as she walked to him, making me follow.

 Once in front of him, Lani rolled her hips, turning her back to him to bend forward. Lewis groaned then slapped her ass, making her moan. When he looked at me, I walked to his back then bent over his shoulder, making my breast press against him. Looking at him, I saw the desire in his eyes. I smiled and took the blunt from him, then went beside Lani. As I puffed, she went behind me to trail her hands down the center of my body until she turned me to her. The look on her face was easy to read.

 We both looked at Lewis before our lips met in a slow and teasing kiss. This wasn’t the first time we’d kissed. It wasn’t a big deal for either of us. When we pulled apart, we both looked back to Lewis and blew out the smoke we’d transferred and split. He didn’t look like he was breathing, but the bulge in his pants said he was alive.

 “Like what you see, daddy?”

 “Come here, princess.”

 Lani walked to Lewis. Once she was before him, he pulled her down by the back of her neck and kissed her intensely, making a slow heat roll through your belly and across your limbs. Before the kiss got too hot, he pulled away, looked at me, and smiled.

 “You too, sunshine.”

 I slowly walked toward him and stood beside Lani again. He didn’t touch me, though. His eyes slowly roamed my body, drinking in every curve. Lani sat on one of Lewis’s spread thighs.

 “Dance for us, Nix.”

 Not needing to be told twice, I turned my back to them and swayed to the music and slowly wined my hips, bringing myself to the floor to slowly stand up while bending, giving them a good view of my ass.

 “Goddamn, girl,” Lewis groaned out before he moaned.  

 Looking back at them, I winked then faced them to continue my seductive dance. Lani stood and joined me, poking out her ass onto me. I brought my hand down to return the slap she’d given me earlier. The action had her moaning. Slowly I brought my hands up her body, all the while never taking my eyes off of Lewis. He smiled and blew out the smoke making the room even hazier. With every breath I took, my high was only increasing, and my inhibitions decreasing. Bringing my lips to Lani’s ears, I whispered.

 “Let’s do it.”

 By the time we made it back to the penthouse, we were all higher than before and laughing up a storm. Once inside, Lani was the one to shout for the pool before she took off. Lewis was right behind her, leaving me to walk behind them. When I got outside, they’d already gotten into the pool, and Lani was in Lewis’s arms. The two were heavily making out. Their moans echoed off the water, leaving me to stand and watch for a few moments.

 When their eyes turned to me, Lani slipped from his arms to disappear under the water. His eyes drank you in, and the way he looked at me made boy heart race, my belly knot, and my sex quiver.

“The water’s great. Come in,” Lewis beckoned as he approached the edge of the pool.

I stood at the edge, watching him swim to me. Before he got there, he stopped, and I could see Lani under the water claiming his cock as her mouth’s possession. She sure wasted no time, I thought. Lewis moaned then rolled his neck. With his head dropped back, I was able to take in the way his shoulders stretched out and how his arms were the perfect combination of power and beauty. The glow of the blue light that was in and around the pool only accentuated his sexiness. When Lewis looked at me, I was about ready to see what the fuck Lani’s screams were all about and if he deserved such praise.

 I unzipped the side of the dress and allowed it to fall from my body to reveal the neon green of my lacy thong.

 “Jesus, you’re gonna kill me, sunshine.”

 I sat at the edge and dangled my legs in the water, and watched the wavy image of Lani, giving him head.

 “She sure can hold her breath long.”

 Lewis smiled and bucked his hips forward. Lani came up a few seconds later.

 “Lew, not fair. You could have killed me,” Lani whined to a smiling Lewis.

 “Look.”

 Lani looked back at me and smiled. Lewis leaned to her ear and spoke. “Told you, daddy would make you get what you wanted.”

 Lani smiled wider and swam to me. When she got close, she flung water at me, leaving it to train down my body. Lani hopped up onto the stone beside me and sat down as well. She was completely naked.

 “I remember these,” Lani began snapping the waistband of my thong.

 “You should. It was barely two weeks ago we got them,” I replied.

 “They still look cute on you, especially against your skin. Uugh, so fucking gorgeous, right daddy.”

 Our eyes went back to Lewis, who still hadn’t moved. His eyes were looking between us as if he didn’t know what to say or do. He slowly approached us, then stopped. His eyes roamed my naked upper half until they dripped to the garment in question. When I saw him bite his bottom lip, he nodded.

 “So fucking gorgeous.”

 I couldn’t help but smile. He had a way with words.

 “Can I?”

 He looked as if he were holding his breath, waiting for my answer. When I nodded, he closed the gap between us. Trailing his finger from my shin up over my knee and along my thigh, they reached the waistband of my underwear, and he snapped them purposefully. Lewis kissed my knee then moved over to Lani. He hoisted her legs out of the water, pressed them back, and got up close and personally with her pussy.

 His eyes locked with mine before he licked along her sex, making her moan. He did it again and again, then sucked Lani’s clit into his mouth. Her gasp was loud. He sucked her like there was no tomorrow, and with every move he made, Lani whimpered before her hand dropped to the top of his head.

 “Right there, daddy.”

 As he lapped at her core, he kept his eyes on me. The longer he gave her pleasure, the wetter I became, and the wetter I became, the more I wanted him to touch me. After several long minutes, he still hadn’t, and my frustration was beginning to show. Cupping my breast, I tweaked my nipple at the same time Lani’s whines increased.

 “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come, daddy. Right there!”

 Lewis’s eyes were dark, and when he pulled back from Lani, his lips were wet. Lani whined.

 “Lewwww!”

 He dropped a slap to her clit, silencing her completely while having her drop her head back.

 “Oh, fuck.”

 Lewis smiled and came back over to me while cleaning his lips.

 “Do you remember what I told you this afternoon?”

 Thinking back, I remembered. When he saw that I had, he smiled again.

 “All you have to do is say the words,” Lewis repeated.

 The way he looked at me only solidified my decision and fueled my desire.

 “I want you,” I said. His smile widened, but he didn’t move.

 “While I love the way that sounds. Those aren’t the words.”

 “Lew, you know she wants you just--.”

 Again Lewis slapped Lani’s clit, and her body jerked, and a hand instinctively dropped between her legs. Lewis shot her a warning look, and in seconds she’s put her hands back on the stone surface. Lewis looked back at me and released a breath.

 “I want you to fuck me.”

 Lewis smiled, showing his perfect teeth. He approached, sliding his hands over my thighs to the waistband of the thong to pull it off of me. When he did, he tossed it behind him, not caring where it landed.

 “Show me that pretty pussy, sunshine.”

 You spread your legs but not entirely. Lewis tsked.

 “I know you can do better than that.”

 I fully spread them and watched him gawk at me like he hadn’t seen it before. When he brought his lips to my skin, he kissed my inner thighs, prolonging my desperate need for contact.

 “You’re so wet, babygirl. Is this for me?”

 I bit my bottom lip and nodded. “All for you,” I whispered.

 “Mmm, I’ve been thinking about this pussy all day.”

 Once the words were out, Lewis buried his face between my thighs. Once I felt his lips, I dropped my head back to the stone and allowed the pleasure he gave me without much effort to fill me. Moaning loudly, my body quivered. Cupping my breast, I tweaked my nipple again, edging my arousal higher.

 “Fuck I was right. You do taste incredible.”

 Lewis quickly flicked his tongue against my clit, making me whimper louder. It felt as if his tongue moved at lightning pace, and with every flick, he somehow made my body even hotter. I felt like I was on fire, but I didn’t hate it. I loved it. Dropping my hand to his head, I held on because I felt the stirs of an unexpected orgasm. Lewis moaned against my skin, making me tumble off the into ecstasy.

 “Fuuuuck!”

 My scream was not alone. Looking to my right, I saw Lewis plunging his fingers in and out of Lani’s core as his mouth still worked magic on you. Lani panted, writhed, and screeched.

 “Yes, daddy. I’m gonna come. Yes!”

 Lewis didn’t slow his fingers or his tongue. Instead, he continued and sucked the soul out of your body while having Lani cream all over his fingers.

 When he pulled back, we laid there panting, trying to catch our breath. Once I did, I looked down, expecting to see Lewis, but only saw an empty pool. Looking to my right, I watched as he approached in all his glory, finally getting my answer I’d been wondering about. He was hunger better than Seabiscuit.

 “Holy Fuck, Lani.”

 “I’ve been trying to tell you.”

 “No need to tell her anything. Seeing is believing. Your knees,” Lewis instructed.

 Lani seemed to know the drill, but I did not. I watched Lani get on her knees then I looked back at Lewis. He just watched me and waited for me to obey. I mirrored Lani and feasted my eyes on his manhood. It looked heavy, long, and thick. Lord have mercy, I thought.

 “I know you want this princess. Do you, babygirl?”

 Deciding not to answer, I wrapped my hand around his shaft, drawing a strangled groan from Lewis. It was as heavy as it looked. I ran my hand up and down, familiarizing myself with him, then I tipped my tongue out to swirl around his swollen head.

 “Aaah, yes, babygirl,” Lewis whispered before he whimpered.

 I moaned on him then dipped my mouth down his length taking him as far as I dared. Lodging him in my throat, I tightened it and hummed. Lewis groaned deeply, then laced his hands behind my head, keeping him snugly where he wanted to be. When his groan turned to a whimper, he released me, making me pull back to catch my breath.

 Lani rose onto her knees and took over, mirroring her same movements from the night I’d seen her. Instead of sitting there and letting her have all the fun, I dipped under her mouth to capture one of his balls in my mouth to suck on it gently. Lewis sighed out long and loud and placed a hand on the back of both Lani’s and my head.

 “Mmm, that’s it. Suck this dick, Lani.”

 She moaned her acceptance.

 “Mmm, yes, Nix. Just like that.”

 Lani pulled back, and we switched positions. For the next few minutes, Lani and I alternated between her at his balls and me on his dick and vise versa. When Lewis pulled away and stepped back, he helped us up and led us upstairs to the bedroom. Once inside, Lewis pulled me into his body to kiss my lips. His moved expertly over mine, sucking, nibbling, and teasing as he pleased. When he wrapped his tongue around mine, I moaned, clinging to him.

As I was getting used to kiss—our first, Lewis abruptly pushed me onto the bed. While he kissed Lani with the same fire he’d kissed me. When he came over to kneel on the bed, I watched him stroke himself. The way he did it had my mouth watering. I knew what was next, and I wanted it so badly my sex quivered.

 “You ready for this dick, Nix?”

 I nodded.

 “I can’t hear you. Tell daddy how bad you want this dick.”

 Nah!

 I dropped my hands between my legs, bringing his attention to it, and circled my clit. That was when I spread my lips so he could see just what he was doing to me. Lewis groaned but didn’t tear his eyes away.

 “Are you ready for this pussy, Lewis?”

 Lani giggled behind me from her spot on the bed by my head. Her laughter only emboldened me.

 “Hmm? I can’t hear you.” I dipped a finger inside my heat and raised it to my lips to suck it clean.

 “Mmm, this pussy is so good. Do you want it?”

 Lewis smiled then hovered over me to take one of my nipples into his mouth to swirl his tongue around the peak before nibbling down. I whimpered again then squirmed when I felt him swipe his cock across my slit.

 “Lani was right about you,” Lewis whispered.

 “I told you, daddy. I hope you can handle two of a kind,” Lani teased.

 Lewis leaned over my head and kissed Lani fervently. The view from underneath was a sensual one, and as I was getting lost in it, Lewis thrust forward, connecting our bodies in one swift move.

 “Fuck!”

 Lewis and I shouted the same thing at the same time. With him buried to the hilt, he didn’t move. He waited, allowing me to adjust to the size and girth of him. The stretch was the most sinfully delicious thing I’d ever felt. Unable to take the maddening pressure, I began pushing Lewis back at his hips, but he didn’t budge.

 “Oh no babygirl, don’t push me away. Take this dick. You wanted it, right?”

 With that, he retreated only to thrust forward again, nudging that special spot within me.

 “I can’t hear you? You gonna tap out?”

 Another retreat and thrust forward sent my breasts swinging and my head angling back.

 “We’ve just begun. You hadn’t even screamed my name yet.”

 Another retreat and thrust forward had me clenching around him and panting to catch my breath.

 “Fuck, Nix. You’re so fucking tight. It’s taking everything not to come.”

 Three thrusts followed, and before Lewis slowly rolled his hips, making me moan deeply.

 I could tell he wasn’t going to go slow anymore, and a few moments later, it was like a beast was released. His thrusts sped, his moans increased as did mine.

 “Mmm, Sit that pussy on her face, princess. Give her a taste of what’s mine.”

 Lani looked at me, seeking permission. Giving her a slight nod, she moved to angle herself over my mouth. This is a first, I thought to myself as I tipped my tongue out to lick across her flesh. Lani moaned softly, making me do the action again and again. After teasing her flesh, for a few moments, I sucked Lani’s clit into my mouth. It was an interesting experience, to say the least, but it wasn’t one I was against.

 Lani jerked forward before she cursed.

 “I got you, princess. Does it feel good?”

 “Mmm, yes, daddy, it feels good.”

 “Is she licking that pussy, right?”

 Lani exclaimed again as I pulled her lower onto my mouth so I could have more access. Mimicking the same thing Lewis did to me, I flicked my tongue against her in a pattern of flicks and swirls, each pattern changing, never the same. Lani whimpered and hissed.

 “Fuck, Nix. That feels so good.”

 Lewis’s thrusts sped, and my whimpers picked up, breaking my concentration from what I was doing.

 “Shit, you’re close huh, babygirl,” Lewis said through clenched teeth.

 Before I knew it, a violent orgasm was ripping through me, making me see stars, rainbows, heaven, and hell. That was when Lani began bucking against my mouth, using my lips as her personal toys.

 “Shit, I’m coming too,” Lani screeched out.

 Lewis pulled from me, then rolled me to the side, pulling Lani to him to plunge into her depths.

 “Fuck, Lew!”

 He groaned loudly and set a fast pace. He had no intention of going slow.

 “Your turn, babygirl.”

 I knew what he was instructing. Crawling to Lani, she nodded at me, allowing me to swing my leg over her face while still kneeling with my ass facing Lewis.

 “Clean her up for me, princess.”

 Lani sucked my sex into her mouth and lapped at mine and Lewis’s combined juices, instantly making me moan and whimper. As Lani moaned her pleasure, I dropped my head to the bed and focused on the orgasm that was bubbling within me. Lewis’s hand dropped to my ass, making me whimper again.

 “Goddamn, this ass is something else!”

 He slapped it again, this time a lot harder than I felt his lips against the most taboo part of me, which made me fling my head back. Not only was Lani underneath me making it damn hard for me to go back to strictly dick, but Lewis was behind me, showing me the pleasure I’d been missing out on.

 That was the last straw for me before I came undone. Dropping to the bed on my stomach, I tried to catch my breath from the sheer force of my orgasm. Lewis kissed my ass, then rolled to the side to lay on his back. The three of us panted in the elegance of the room. I don’t know how many minutes passed before any of us moved, but when I moved, I saw the sun rising through the window and groaned.

 “Oh god, the sun, make it stop,” I whined.

 “Two of a kind indeed, Lewis said on a scoff before he clapped his hands, bringing the blinds to a close, darkening the room.

 We all slithered to the covers slipping underneath them. Lewis laid in the middle while Lani and I climbed on either side of him. When I rested my head on the pillow, I sighed, and Lewis kissed my cheek.

 “Thank you for putting us out of our misery,” he whispered into my ear, making me smirk before I rolled my eyes to focus on sleep. I was exhausted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Chapter Four, the final chapter will be on @munteanhorewrites page.

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (6)

   jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst + maybe jealous!kook 👀

words: 3.2k

     chapter six

You stayed in the whole day on Sunday – which was nothing new since you had three classes to prepare for on Monday, not to mention a possible encounter with Jungkook to brace yourself for – so, going out the next morning, even if it was 8:30 AM, felt surprisingly refreshing. After not talking to anyone besides your roommate the whole day yesterday, it felt unexpectedly nice to make some small-talk with other people.

You got coffee at the local coffee shop before heading to your first class and were surprised to feel your stomach fill with disappointment when the class started and Jungkook didn’t show up. Although, truth be told, you weren’t sure if he was even taking this class at all. Knowing his weekend habits, taking a 9 AM class on a Monday morning seemed like a sure-fire plan for failing. And, honestly, you shouldn’t have cared about his whereabouts anyway. But you did as you found yourself looking for him in every class you went to that day, nearly forgetting your plans to meet up with Namjoon in the afternoon.

You ended up not seeing Jungkook today, after all – good! – and you returned to your dorm, feeling somehow let down – bad! – and annoyed. Grateful for the plans you’d made with Namjoon, you mentally cursed yourself for getting attached to people so easily, and headed to the kitchen for a quick snack before you prepared the work space.

You had already cleared your desk, found the movie you’d promised to show Namjoon, and even started to read one of the books for the project, when your phone buzzed. 

Thinking it was your partner for Sociology letting you know he was on his way over, you were in no hurry to pull back from the chapter you’d just started. But as soon as you teared your eyes away from the book and checked the screen of your phone, a bolt of electricity struck you.

It was Jungkook calling you.

You figured that the two of you must have had a similar thought process because you’d wanted to call him as well, but – contrary to him, by the looks of it – you ended up choosing to stay away. All of your restraint would have backfired if you’d seen him in class today – you were sure of it – but you chose not to dwell on that right now. You focused on your success instead; you’d avoided him for almost two days now – what’s another two years, right?

However, as you stared at his name on the screen of your phone, you really wanted to answer the call. You wanted to hear his voice.

And yet, you could already imagine the conversation you were going to have.

Apologizing wasn’t something that was difficult for you. You could have easily told him that you’d overreacted when you’d last seen him. But an apology would have brought closure, and closure would bring another attempt at a friendship that would eventually end – just like it did before.

The end seemed inevitable. You’d be heartbroken for another seven years – okay, maybe not heartbroken, but it would definitely sting for many more years to come, just as it had before – while he’d be fine, playing shows with his best friends and getting drunk every weekend.

So, choosing to suffer and not give in to your impulses – because it was supposed to save you a lot of pain in the long run – you did not pick up his call. Just a few days of talking to him had already messed you up enough, who knew how strong of a hold he’d establish on you if you allowed him into your life again? You had to learn from your past mistakes and stop putting him first.

The call ended almost as soon as you decided not to answer and you felt yourself release a shaky breath that you’d been holding as your phone vibrated restlessly.

You’d persevered this time. Maybe you’d manage to keep this up all the way to graduation – “Do you still plan everything out in advance?” Jungkook’s voice asked in your head, – but, just in case you couldn’t, you turned the vibration on your phone off and placed it—screen-down—on your desk.

Several minutes later, Namjoon finally arrived with a tentative knock on the door of your room – he wasn’t sure if he got the number right – and the two of you immediately got to work, setting a plan for your project and looking through the books you’d picked up at the library a few days ago.

“We have far too many articles we can use as references,” Namjoon said, thirty minutes into your work session. He had glasses on but he’s been looking down at the desk for so long, they had slipped to the very tip of his nose. “Maybe we should focus on the newest ones?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, getting fidgety after sitting still for so long. “Not going to lie, though, this topic is starting to seem less and less interesting with every new monograph I open.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” he said with a sigh as he brought his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Do you want to take a break? We got through four books already, that’s progress.”

You leaned back in your chair, relieved to hear this suggestion and Namjoon laughed, understanding your answer without hearing you say it.

“We could, uh, watch the movie now if you’d like,” you said then. “Hopefully it’ll inspire us to keep working.”

He doubted a horror movie could inspire you to keep reading the unnecessarily complicated books about the connection between humans, but he’d been looking forward to watching it and, therefore, could not say no. Not to mention, you looked too tired to keep working and he felt bad.

“Alright, sure,” he said, “it’ll be a good distraction. It’s been a long day today anyway.”

“It really has,” you agreed and turned your laptop to face yourself, “I’ll set it up and—”

“Oh!” he gasped suddenly, sitting up straight and startling you. “I was going to bring popcorn! I forgot. I came here right from my last class.”

The thought was really sweet – because you didn’t ask him to bring anything – and it got you to smile.

“That’s okay,” you said and then remembered, “actually, there’s a convenience store across the street, I could go get it.”

“I’ll do it,” Namjoon said, his determination bringing him out of his chair and into your hallway before you could react. “I’m the guest here, after all! And I shamelessly came without anything.”

He was now calling out to you from the other room as he put his shoes on, so you stood up and walked to the threshold of the bedroom.

“Well, to be fair, as the host, I should have been the one to provide the popcorn,” you pointed out but Namjoon was already halfway out the door.

He chuckled at this, fixing his glasses again as he grabbed his backpack, double-checking if the wallet was there.

“It looks like we’re both still learning the proper etiquette,” he said with a good-natured smile. “I’ll get the popcorn. You set up the movie.”

He assigned jobs for you and himself again – it was something he seemed to do a lot as you’d noticed in class – but you found that you didn’t mind his bossy nature. It was nice to be around someone who knew what had to be done and didn’t waste any time with the pleasantries, telling the people around him what they had to do point-blank.

“Yes, sir,” you said and Namjoon considered apologizing for ordering you around but when he lifted his eyes to meet yours, he saw a humorous smile on your lips.

With a small--relieved--chuckle, he nodded one last time and promised to be right back before exiting your dorm and walking down the hall for the elevator.

Left alone, you automatically reached for your phone and only remembered why you’d placed it screen-down when you saw the three missed calls from Jungkook. Apparently, he’d called you twice more after you didn’t pick up.

Inhaling sharply you—pointlessly—tried to convince yourself that your heart had started to beat faster because it was just bored after having been still for so long – yeah, right – and not because Jungkook was fighting for this harder than you’d expected him to.

Then, suddenly, there came a knock on your door.

Confused, you put your phone down and headed back into the hallway of your dorm. If Namjoon forgot something, he could have just entered since the door was unlocked anyway, but he must have been too well-mannered to enter someone else’s house without an invitation—

It wasn’t Namjoon.

“Hi,” Jungkook said when you opened the door. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and he lowered his eyes as soon as he saw your face, but not soon enough. You still caught the sight of a bloody gnash running down his left cheekbone.

“Jungkook—what—” you started to say but then ended up stumbling over your own thoughts as you weren’t sure what to ask him first – why he was here, or why he was bleeding. “What happened?”

“Hmm?” he appeared to have been expecting a different question. “Oh—nothing.”

It was clearly not nothing as the boy in front of you purposefully turned his whole body so he could hide the injured part of his face without raising any suspicions – which rose all the suspicions as he stood with his body unnaturally twisted towards the wall next to your door.

“Were you in a fight?” you asked, even though the answer was loud and obvious, and literally right there on his face.

“No—well, yeah, but it’s not serious,” he said, refusing to look at you still. He didn’t come here to stare at the floor but he – like a dense idiot that he sometimes was – did not expect you to ask him about the wound. “It’s just—I wasn’t in the mood and someone provoked me. It’s stupid.”

Stupid or not, he got hurt again even before his injuries from the drunken car accident had time to heal. You craved to know the reasons why he kept putting himself into these sort of situations but you weren’t going to ask; you couldn’t – not after your last conversation.

“You’re bleeding,” you pointed out the obvious.

“I know. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine but your heart was beating too fast and you couldn’t focus on one thing at a time. Finally, you asked him the one question he’d prepared himself for.

“What are you doing here?”

Jungkook raised his eyes to yours and explained very simply, “you didn’t answer my call.”

He said it as if the line of actions leading up from you, not answering his call, to him, showing up on your doorstep, was straight, natural, and absolutely understandable.

You didn’t know what to say to that – it was a comment about as obvious as the “you’re bleeding” one that you’d made just a second ago – but since you were exchanging observations instead of offering explanations, you leaned against the door-frame with your shoulder and crossed your arms over your chest, ready to keep going.

“Right,” you said. “You weren’t in class today.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded and, finally, provided an explanation – however poor it was – for (some of) his actions, “I wasn’t—I didn’t feel like coming.”

You weren’t in a position to question him about this further. And even if you were, he probably wouldn’t have answered you anyway – his defensive stance made that very clear.

“I see,” you said. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said again – it was the only word he seemed to have no problems with – and then added after a moment’s hesitation, “I know it’s not a good enough reason but—”

You cut him off, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d have thought he flinched as he watched your eyes for a lingering moment and then took half a step back. “No, I’m just—”

“Like you said,” you reminded him then, your crossed arms suddenly threatening, “it’s none of my business.”

Jungkook swallowed, his jaw clenched. “”I’m—uh, about what I said… I—”

“Jungkook,” you said and the sound of his name coming from your lips – even under such uncomfortable circumstances – sounded pleasant to his ears. “You… you probably shouldn’t have come.”

You were pushing him away. For the first time in your life, you were standing up to him and Jungkook – with a bruised sense of self-worth and a chest that throbbed with pain much worse than the wound on his cheek – couldn’t help but feel a little scared. You weren’t relenting to him. You weren’t letting him have his way.

Seven years have ensured you learned from your past mistakes.

And that was why Jungkook did not—could not—walk away from your door. He had to prove himself to you now – he’s never had to do that to anyone who wasn’t his father before. And in this particular moment, proving his worth to his father seemed much easier than proving it to you.

“I know that,” he said, now wary that the damage he’d done to your friendship may have been irreversible. “I just didn’t like the way our last conversation ended. I said some things I shouldn’t have said.”

You sighed. “I—no, look. It was me who started it. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that so out of the blue.”

“No, don’t. You had every right to do that. It was—”

“Jungkook,” you said again and if you weren’t going to stop saying his name, he felt like he might have to get his hands out of his pockets and touch you because this was starting to become a torture. “Even though we could have been more mature and just talked about it, you were right when you said that it wasn’t my business to worry about you. It really isn’t.”

He swallowed, a sparkle of fire flickering in his eyes. “No, it’s—”

“No,” you cut him off one last time because you knew something was going to stop you from doing it again: either you wouldn’t manage to open your mouth or he’d throw you against the wall to stop you from talking in some different way because, God knew, Jungkook sure looked like he was seconds away from doing just that. “It’s probably not a good idea for us to—”

“Oh,” a surprised gasp was suddenly heard down the hall. Automatically, both of you turned your heads to look.

Namjoon was coming out of the elevator a few feet down, several bags of popcorn kernels in his hands. He looked confused and even a little embarrassed to have spoken aloud, but his flustered state did not come close to match yours.

“Namjoon,” you said, clearing your throat.

“Namjoon?” Jungkook repeated through clenched teeth, his eyes focused on the unfamiliar guy in front of him. He’d never seen him before but Namjoon had no trouble recognizing the vocalist of Parental Advisory glaring at him.

All of a sudden, Jungkook had switched from agitation and turned to pure irritation – how dare this other guy interrupt you two? – that was quickly replaced by fury – how dare this other guy be your acquaintance that was, obviously, on his way to your dorm? – and you felt the need to do some damage control.

You swore you felt less uncomfortable on the very first date you’d ever gone to – the guy tried to kiss you and bumped his forehead into yours so hard, you thought he gave you both concussions – and, up until this moment, that has been one of the few memories that still made you cringe to this day. This was going to beat it for sure, though.

As you watched Namjoon and Jungkook eye each other warily – and, in Namjoon’s case, awkwardly because he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d just walked into – you wished the earth would swallow you whole because you didn’t know what to say to them – you weren’t dating either of them, so what was there to say, really? – let alone what to do now.

Slamming the door and barricading yourself inside of your room started to seem appealing.

“We’re doing a project together,” you ended up saying, your eyes on Jungkook, even though, objectively, you knew you didn’t owe him an explanation.

And yet, as Jungkook refused to look away from Namjoon, you began to fear that getting into two fights in the span of a few hours, wouldn’t be something that Jungkook was above of. And Namjoon – who was, honestly, just an outsider caught in the middle of something you couldn’t understand yourself – didn’t deserve to get punched simply for getting the popcorn too quickly.

“Yeah,” Namjoon spoke. He felt like he had to say something – you’d have disagreed, convinced that the wrong word from him could have provoked Jungkook to act irrationally – because, reading your body language, he could tell that you were having a conflict with yourself. “We have a project due—”

“You were right,” Jungkook suddenly turned to look at you, his eyes narrow and fierce. You swallowed but didn’t get to say anything back because he added, “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“You—”

If his words didn’t shut you up, then the fact that, as soon as he said them, he turned around on his heels and walked right past Namjoon and towards the staircase certainly did.

Blinking in surprise at his abrupt departure – although, maybe you should have been grateful that he left instead of starting a fist-fight – you glanced at Namjoon who was clumsily making his way towards you.

“I feel like I’ve made the situation a lot worse by opening my mouth,” he said timidly, “or, actually, maybe I made it worse when I got off the elevator. I’m sorry.”

“It’s—no,” you shook your head, moving to a side so he could come in. “It was already bad before you got here.”

Namjoon hesitated outside of your door, not daring to enter. “Are you and him—?”

“No,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear the word that was coming. “We just—we have some unresolved issues, clearly, but we’re—we’re not—”

“I really am sorry if I interrupted,” he said, noticing how much you struggled with the word-that-must-not-be-said.

“It’s okay,” you told him with what you thought was a small smile – but, really, your lips just barely twitched – and Namjoon finally – albeit uncertainly – entered your room. “There wasn’t anything to interrupt. He was about to leave anyway.”

But even though you’d said this, Namjoon wasn’t entirely convinced and apologized several more times throughout the movie. You kept telling him that it was fine – because it really was – but, about thirty minutes into Hereditary, you were no longer really listening to what he was saying, and it wasn’t because you were too into the movie.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he walked away. It was the same look as the one you’d seen right before he drunkenly climbed behind the wheel of a car that night at the party.

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