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spider-stark · 1 year

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Anti-Hero // Hero x Villain Trope // pt. 2 //

Previous Part

Summary - Reader and Peter are both living double lives. Spider-Man is considered a national hero, while the reader is viewed as a criminal. In their personal lives, they're both head over heels for one another, their friendship finally blossoming into something more. But as vigilantes? It's complicated

Warnings - Blood, mentions of kidnapping/abuse, knife violence,

Word Count - 4.6k

Your foot bounced against the footrest of the barstool you were sat in, your patience wearing thinner and thinner with each passing minute. Another glance at your phone as it laid face up on the counter, confirming that it had now been twenty-five minutes past when you and Peter were supposed to meet.

Five more minutes, you told yourself, only five.

Peter Pan’s doorbell chimed as soon as the thought crossed your mind, as if Peter knew that you were getting painfully close to assuming that he had ditched you.

“Y/n!” He sounded like he had run several blocks just to get here, gasping for breath as he jogged over to where you sat. Your foot stilled at the sight of him, the anxiety of being stood-up immediately dissipating.

He slid onto the stool beside you, still struggling to steady his breathing. You grinned at him, and the sight only made his lungs feel tighter. “You’re late, Parker.”

A knowing tone, yet so light and playful, and it somehow held the power to wash away all the defeats he had faced today. It was one of the things Peter loved most about you, the way that you could melt all of his stress away, without even lifting a finger.

“I’m sorry.” He choked the apology out between labored breaths, his body finally settling enough to let him try to speak.

While Peter hadn’t run several blocks to get here, he did frantically swing a few dozen blocks, his muscles screaming out in pain the entire time. He was thankful that the annoying girl from earlier had been telling the truth when she said he would recover from the toxin, but he only managed to regain control over his motor skills with enough time to change clothes and come straight to Peter Pan’s to meet you.

She also could have mentioned that he would feel like he got hit by a bus afterwards.

“I started to think you were standing me up.” You admitted.

“Never!” Peter blurted the word out, squinting slightly under the fluorescent lights that only added to the pounding in his head. “Today just felt kind of… paralyzing, I guess.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at his own pun, knowing it would fly right over your head. “Had a hard time getting myself moving.”

Concern suddenly washed over your features, brows pulling together. “Do you feel sick or something?”

You didn’t wait for his answer, leaning forwards on your stool and placing the back of your hand against his forehead. The sudden contact had a blush creeping up his neck, his face beginning to turn red. “You do feel a bit warm.” You hummed with a frown. “You should’ve texted me if you didn’t feel good, we could’ve rescheduled.”

“No!” Another too-quick response, only deepening the crimson shade now painting his cheeks.“I feel great, promise.” He awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to sound a little less, well, excitable. “Just a rough day, ya know? Nothing worth rescheduling over! But I’m still really sorry that I’m late.”

Peter already wanted nothing more than to throw that sorry criminal in jail, if not for being a thief than for attempting to ruin his plans with you. God, they knew just how to get under his skin. He tried to shake the thoughts of them from his mind, wanting to focus entirely on you, his mind free of irritating distractions.

Today might have kicked his ass, but there was no way he would miss out on coming to see you. He struggled to make time for ‘Peter Parker’ things while managing to balance his duties as Spider-Man, but when it came to you? He would gladly shove Spider-Man to the side when possible.

“I get it.” You reassured him, a soft smile that had his heart melting. “My day wasn’t that great either, but that’s just how it goes sometimes, yeah?”

It really hasn't been a great day for you. Getting away from Spider-Man was the only thing that had gone right today. The job you were on earlier when Spidey had caught up to you ended up being a total bust after faulty intel led to your target getting away before you could even make a move. It threw things off for you—left you without a profit and forced you to evaluate your sources.

“Well,” you cleared the brief silence between the two of you, “do you wanna get started?”

Peter only stared at you, those beautiful brown eyes filled with little other than complete confusion as his mind lagged behind. You giggled at how dumbfounded he looked, and while he was slightly embarrassed, he also savored the sound of your laugh.

“On studying.” You clarified with your index finger tapping against the garishly colored chemistry textbook laid on the counter. “Our test is next week and I really don’t wanna fail Mr. Harrington’s class.”

Peter’s mouth formed a perfect O shape, his head nodding along as you reminded him of the reason why the two of you were meeting up today. Truth be told, he had been purposely letting himself forget about the ‘study’ part of your study date.

“Oh, yeah.” He shook his head a bit, keeping his gaze focused on the coffee-stained countertop in hopes that you wouldn’t see that he was still blushing. “Sorry, I’m still not all here yet.”

“We can still reschedule, ya know? If you’re just not feeling up to this right now.” You hesitantly reminded him, silently hoping that he would say no, that he would insist that he stay. It had been days since the two of you made these plans, and you had been looking forward to spending time with him.

“No, really, I’m fine!” Peter answered your silent pleading, adding a smile. “I think we need to be on page 279.”

You nodded in response, returning the expression before moving to flick through the pages of the book.

To be honest, Peter really couldn’t comprehend why you needed his help to pass Harrington’s class. In nearly every other subject you were at the top of your class, serving as one of his biggest academic competitors at Midtown. What he didn’t know, however, was that the only reason you needed his help was because of certain distractions in class.

Chemistry was the only class the two of you had together, and unfortunately that meant that the majority of it was spent with you staring at the back of Peter’s head and barely listening to a word Mr. Harrington said (too busy daydreaming about what it would be like to run your fingers through his gorgeous wavy hair). Your little crush had ultimately led to you just barely passing the class, which had turned out to be quite convenient, as it served as an excuse to ask Peter for help and get the chance to hangout with him outside of school.

“Oh c’monnn.” You groaned as you examined the page, immediately filled with dread when you read scientific notation printed in big bold letters.

“I promise it’s really not that hard!” Peter tried to assure you, hiding his amusement at your dramatic reaction as you pressed your forehead against the book, little sounds of protests still falling from your mouth. “You’ve got this, mkay? I’ve got full faith in you.”

“As sweet as that is, Parker,” your close proximity to the paper muffled your speech as you refused to face him, “math is actually my arch-nemesis. I’m horrible at it.”

Besides Spider-Man, you jokingly thought to yourself.

“It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds though!” Peter continued to make promises that did little to ease your dread. “Let’s just give it a try.”

You turned your head to the side just a bit, cheek still flush against the book as you looked over at him from the corner of your eye. “Do I even need to know how to do this? Like, if I don’t pursue a career in chemistry, will I ever need to actually understand scientific notation?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Give me an example.”

“I don’t know, what if you wanna figure out how many drops of water are in a river? You’d need scientific notation.”

You furrowed your brows at him, although still amused by the response. “Why would I ever wanna know that?”

Peter’s shoulders lifted into a shrug, an action he swiftly regretted as a burning pain coursed through his forearm, a reminder of the wound he sustained earlier that hadn’t quite healed yet. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Whoa.” You quickly straighten your posture, staring at him cautiously. “Are you good?”

He forced out a quiet mhm sound as he bit down on the inside of his cheek, desperately hoping the feeling would subside. Peter wasn’t used to his healing abilities being so impaired, yet another side effect of the toxin, and he had forgotten just how much it hurt to be injured.

“Are you sure?” You asked again, clearly not convinced by his less-than-impressive attempt at hiding his discomfort. “Is it your shoulder or back or something?”

Peter felt your hand coming towards him, his Spider-senses snapping him out of his current agony as you hovered just inches above the covered wound. He reached out and grabbed your wrist so suddenly that it made you gasp, shocked by how fast he had moved.

“Sorry.” He apologized, immediately loosening his grip. Your eyes remained wide, the shock still evident alongside a bit of suspicion. “I think I pulled something in my shoulder the other day and it’s still sorta tender to touch, ya know?”

He already felt guilty for the lie, but it was the best he could come up with to ensure you wouldn’t try to reach for him again. Coming up with lies was already difficult for him, and he had no clue how he’d be able to craft a story for how he ended up with a giant slice taken out of his arm if you found out.

“You really have the worst luck, don’t you?” You mused, your hand retreating back to your lap as you spoke. “I still have trouble believing that last week you accidentally ran into that streetlight and gave yourself a black eye!”

Peter laughed nervously, thinking back to the moment. Funny enough, he hadn’t really been lying about that one. Sure, he had been swinging and not running, but he did hit a streetlight. “What can I say? I’m just not the most coordinated.” He fidgeted in his seat, an action you equated to embarrassment.

In reality, the action had been fueled by anxiety. There had been too many close calls lately, too many instances where he had to make up an excuse for a bruise or a cut or whatever else, especially with the new girl running around. He was running out of lies to tell, and more than that, he was getting tired of having to lie.

“Well at least try and be more careful, alright?” You teased him, though your concern for him was still evident. While he might’ve hated lying about his injuries, he did quite enjoy the way you’d dote over him whenever you’d discover a new one, always desperate for your affection in whatever way he could receive it. “If I’m gonna pass chemistry then I’m gonna need my tutor in one piece!”

Peter grinned, returning your teasing tone, “If you’re gonna pass chemistry then you’re gonna need to learn scientific notation.”

You jutted your bottom lip out in a pout, a low groan following suit. “Fine.” You reached for the book, sliding it closer to the two of you while scooting your stool a bit closer to Peter’s. “But you owe me.”

“I owe you?” He shot you a bewildered stare, struggling not to laugh.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“I’m the one helping you pass chemistry.” He noted, shifting his index finger from himself to you as he spoke. “So technically wouldn’t you be the one that owes me?”

“Nope. Pretty sure I was right. You owe me.” You feigned complete seriousness, mocking him by pointing your finger in his direction.

He decided to play along, electing to ignore the fact that you’re just procrastinating studying. “Okay, fine. So what do I owe you?”

You paused for a moment, a mischievous look appearing on your face, causing Peter to raise a brow at you. “A date.” You declared confidently, taking advantage of the opportunity. “A real one. No school stuff or anything.”

Peter felt his heart skip in his chest.

“Deal.”

Maybe learning scientific notation was worth it.

Coming to Queens was a risky move, one that you didn’t like to make often. It was one of two places in the city that you liked to avoid—the other being Hell’s Kitchen—in an attempt to try and avoid running into anyone with devil horns or spiderwebs.

Luckily, your line of work typically kept you out of the ‘problem’ areas of the city. The majority of your targets were New York's wealthiest, the kind of people that wouldn’t so much as dream of stepping foot outside of Manhattan.

You much preferred meeting them in their own territory, finding it all the more enjoyable to toy with them in the places where they felt safest. But, sometimes, that just wasn’t a possibility for one reason or another. Despite that, bringing your business into Spider-Man’s self proclaimed home territory was always a dangerous move.

In this case, though, it was unavoidable.

For months you had kept a close eye on councilman Rupert Fletcher, a man that many others in your circle had tried to go after, only to fail time after time. At first, you struggled to understand how so many accomplished thieves had somehow been stumped on such a painfully average man.

Despite Fletcher's status as a councilman, he was of little importance, his wealth being the only thing to put a target on his back. On the surface, he lived a rather average life of a man in his position.

He owned a sizable penthouse on the Upper East Side that he shared with his wife and their french bulldog. A quick peek at his schedule revealed that his weekdays were typically spent in the office, the deviation being an occasional conference. His weekends were always the same, a trip to the country club in Spring Valley to decompress and unwind.

There were sizable gaps in his schedule, several windows of time where his apartment was left unoccupied, with his weekend trips to the country club and his wife’s recent trip back to her home country for family matters—essentially meaning that Rupert Fletcher was every thief’s wet dream. Yet, even the craftiest of them all came out empty handed, claiming the man’s home was unusually bare. There was nothing of much importance in it, no safes filled with cash, no lavish jewelry. It was painfully basic, appearing as little more than a model home. Every one that dared to go after him all left the same: empty handed.

You started to think you hit a dead end with him, after questioning every single person in your circle, desperate to dig up something on him. That is until a tiny girl by the name of Red made an offhand comment, one she clearly thought was of little importance.

“The best I got out of it was this Dukes of Hazzard keychain,” she flashed a disturbing grin, the street lights illuminating the silver caps on her teeth, “better than nothin, right?”

It was better than nothing. A lot better.

While the keychain itself was rather stupid and not something you cared about, there had been a dingy key dangling off of it, a tag attached that read: StorageMart #813. At first you considered the thought that it had belonged to Red, but given the fact that a pristine Bugatti key hung alongside it, you quickly decided that it must’ve been Fletchers.

That same night, you broke into the office of the StorageMart that night, combing through their records until you found payment receipts for unit 813. It hadn’t shocked you when you saw it was purchased under a different last name: Petrov. You recognized it as his wife’s maiden name, a fact learned through your prior research on him. With confirmation that it was his unit, you wasted no time with swiping a key from the utility office and heading straight for the unit.

Its contents were a mystery to you, your imagination running wild. What could it be? Diamonds? Gold bars? A Dukes of Hazzard boxset? You weren’t sure, and truthfully, you didn’t care all that much as long as it was something of value. You didn’t know what he was hiding in the unit, but what you did know was that Rupert Fletcher was a bad man, and he deserved to pay for it.

And discovering what he had worked so hard to keep secret only cemented that fact.

The first thing you saw was a mattress laid out on the cold cement floor, a tattered blanket with the thickness of a sheet of newspaper spread across it. Beside it was a dingy orange bucket, the scent of what was inside practically overwhelming your senses entirely. You almost considered slamming the door shut, almost decided to cut your losses and get out of there before you emptied the contents of your stomach on the floor and left evidence of your presence.

But then, you heard it. A faint voice, small and fragile, the words in a language you didn’t know. You didn’t need to understand what she said to know who she was, though, to know that you had finally caught Fletcher in his biggest crime of all.

A bit of gossip tends to go a long way. It took a bit of work to find out where the women in Fletcher’s wife’s inner circle like to hang out, but it turned out to be well worth the struggle as all of them sat amongst themselves at lunch and chatted about how she had been threatening divorce months prior, and their theories of what he had done to her upon finding out, entirely unaware of the listening ear just a table over. A bit more digging led to gaining even more intel on Fletcher’s past tumultuous relationships, only furthering the suspicions.

“Ms. Petrov?” You purposely opted to avoid use of her married name, hoping that it would indicate to her that you were there to help, not to cause further harm.

The woman was emaciated and looked as if she were just days away from death, and you struggled to hide your shock. “I’m gonna get you out of here, alright?” A promise you intended on keeping.

A huge part of you wanted to take the story public, to take pictures of the unit before he could destroy any evidence she was here and send it straight to the Daily Bugle. Jameson was an asshole, but he was never one to miss out on a good story. But, despite your desire to see Fletcher’s mugshot on the news, you bit your tongue.

It wasn’t your story to share. And, even if Petrov had wanted to come clean and expose him to the world, men like Fletcher were rarely forced to deal with the consequences of what they’d done. He was too wealthy, too well-known, too powerful.

Which was exactly why you were back here in Queens, at the same shabby StorageMart you had pulled Fletcher’s wife from just a few days ago. She was safe, staying in a women's shelter upstate, already beginning to plan her trip back home where she would be away from Fletcher for good. There was just one thing she needed before she could make her escape.

“Thanks Rupey.” You sang over your shoulder, lazily wiping the ruby stained blade against your pants, “It was a pleasure doing business with ya.”

He coughed a few obscenities in your direction, but made no move towards you as you headed towards the door of unit 813, too weak to move from where he laid on the floor. Everyone liked to put on a good show at the end, run their mouth just enough to make themselves feel like they put up a fight. You usually ignored it. Usually.

“How much did you take?” He spat in your direction, your footsteps falling silent as you paused by the door.

You didn’t like his tone, the arrogance in his voice, his domineering attitude. You were a bit shocked that he had any snide remarks left in him, and even more shocked that he could even form words after you knocked two of his teeth loose.

“I took what I needed.” You assured him, your own tone calm and collected in comparison to his. “And then some. Gotta make a profit in this business somehow, Rupe.”

His wife had told you he would be here tonight, promised that he came by every other day just to chuck some food in her direction and try to convince her to reconsider her decision to leave him. Waiting for him was easy, since she said that Fletcher liked to stick to a tight schedule, and incapacitating him was even easier.

A quick slash to the forehead, just a half an inch above his brows. It was the easiest way to stun someone, there were enough capillaries in the forehead to cause profuse bleeding that would eventually impair their vision, making it even easier to keep control over the situation. Immobilizing him wasn’t hard either, a quick jab to his right leg, maybe two or so inches deep. Deep enough that the average person wouldn’t be able to keep their weight on it without passing out from the pain, but nowhere deep enough that he would bleed out from the wound.

After that, it was as easy and slipping his phone out of his pocket, forcing him to use touch-ID to get into his bank account (threatening to cut off someone's thumb makes it quite easy to get them to follow instructions) and then transferring a couple hundred thousand dollars to an untraceable bank account you had a friend set up for his wife. Fletcher had been the one to ruin her life and damn near kill her, it was only fair that he was the one to pay for her new one, especially if that was the only justice she’d ever get.

“They’re gonna find you–” Fletcher swore, his strained voice growing louder as you moved to open the door, “I have cameras set up in here! There’s cameras all over this fucking property! The cops are gonna find you!”

You gave him a quick glance over your shoulder, your mask still secured over your face, confident that the NYPD would find nothing that could trace back to you. Not any more than they already had, that is. “You’re not gonna tell them shit.” You laughed at him, rolling your eyes, “You think I wasn’t smart enough to hack into your stupid security cameras and duplicate the footage? I have hours of it, Fletcher. Hours of you torturing your wife, keeping her caged up in here like some sort of animal.” He didn’t respond, barely moved a muscle as his face paled. “You tell a single soul what happened here tonight, and I’ll send the footage off to every news station in New York. Got it?”

You didn’t need to wait for confirmation, aware that men like Fletcher would do anything to avoid bad press. He would make up a story, the same way all of them did. A mugging gone wrong or some stupid lie, anything to paint himself the victim and keep his wrongdoings away from the public. You looked forward, savoring the feeling of the cold Winter air kissing your skin as you let the door slam shut behind you, relaxation washing over you at the thought of finally getting to go home.

“Do I wanna know what you were doing in there?”

Well, so much for relaxation.

You glanced up, immediately noticing Spider-Boy crouched on the unit across from 813. “What are you even doing here?” You asked him, an exasperated groan following after. “Like, seriously, do you have a tracker on me or something? I’m gonna get you one of those little collars with a bell on it, the kind for cats, ya know? That way you at least can’t sneak up on me.”

Spider-Man narrowed his eyes at you, and your lip curled in response. You didn’t like the way the whites of his mask moved to match his expressions, finding it a bit unnerving. “What were you doing?” He asked again, ignoring your previous sarcastic remarks.

“Why don’t you go look for yourself?” You jutted your thumb over your shoulder, pointing towards the unit door where Fletcher’s groans of pain should still be faintly heard. “Cause I’m a bit tired from doing your job and all, so I’d rather skip the small talk tonight and head home.”

He scoffed, still perched atop the building, staring down at you. “Doing my job?”

You nodded. “Uh, yeah. Did I stutter or something?”

“How were you doing my job?” He rephrased his question, annoyed by your constant habit of avoidance.

“Do your own research for once, Spider-Kid.” You told him lazily, shaking your head as you began to continue your walk towards the exit gates of the StorageMart. “Maybe then you’ll realize we aren’t quite as different as you think.”

The nickname annoyed Peter, but he tried to shake it off, aware that it was just another way you tried to get under his skin and throw him off. He swiftly jumped from the building, landing directly in your path to keep you from leaving. Before his feet even touched the ground you already had a knife drawn, as if you had predicted his movement.

“While I commend you for wanting to stop me,” you spoke slowly, the tip of your blade pointed at his throat—it was an empty threat, as you knew that you would never strike what would most certainly be a fatal blow against him, although he didn’t know that and chose to keep a safe enough distance. “There’s a man in there that’s in desperate need of medical attention. I suggest you run off to be a hero and get him to a hospital.”

Peter’s eyes shifted towards the unit, his amplified hearing allowing him to hear Fletcher’s heartbeat from where he stood. You were right; and while he didn’t sound like he was on the verge of death, he needed a hospital, and a fight with you was one he wasn’t confident he would win—not quick enough, at least, to justify leaving a wounded man to suffer.

“We’re very different.” He promised you, taking a step back to show that he was backing down. To show that he was a hero, that he would prioritize a civilian's life over stroking his own ego by attempting to capture you right now. The two of you were nothing alike—Peter worked to protect this city, locking criminals up and fighting alongside the Avengers. And you? “You’re a villain.”

You snorted at his dramatic choice of words, still armed and prepared to strike if he made a move towards you. He didn’t, though, taking a few more steps backwards towards Fletcher’s unit.

“Villain’s such a harsh word.” You clicked your tongue, chastising him, making his blood boil as he had to use all the restraint in his body to prevent himself from going after you as you readied yourself to dart for the exit.

“I prefer anti-hero.”

tag list: @llovergirlll @hpchosen1 @vintageoldfashion

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frenchkisstheabyss · 2 months

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♥︎ 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖗𝖚𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 ♥︎

♥︎ Pairing: best friend!jongho x ghost!chubby!fem!reader, ghost!mingi x ghost!chubby!fem!reader

♥︎ Genre: fluff/angst (sorta)/supernatural au/suggestive

♥︎ Summary: Choi Jongho's apartment has a ghost problem and you're it. For so long you've been his little secret but, after spilling his secret on a drunk night out, he makes things more complicated for himself than he ever could've imagined.

♥︎ Word Count: 2.3k

♥︎ Warnings: You're a ghost, babes. You and Mingi are ghosts. So your life/feelings as a ghost are expressed but nothing super heavy/dark. Light expression of sexual thoughts. Cursing. Mention of other members. Intro to a love triangle. This one's Jongho focused w/ intro to Mingi at the end, & that's all, darling.

♥︎ A/N: Why am I writing multi-part (posting pt 2 this weekend) supernatural fic where you find yourself in a Jongho/Mingi love triangle? Because it's halfway to Halloween. Jk. I did it cause I wanted to and I'd do it again. Mwahahaha.

“A ghost? Like dressed in a white dress floating around your apartment going ‘Booooo’ ghost?” San teases, raising a skeptical eyebrow in Jongho’s direction.

Jongho groans, taking a seat at the polished wooden table at the center of the break room. He should’ve known that running his mouth to Wooyoung after one too many drinks would lead to all of the guys finding out about it. Anything you ever tell Wooyoung goes in one ear and right out of his mouth.

Taking a sip of his coffee, Jongho almost wishes he were a ghost himself. “She doesn’t go ‘Booooo’ and she doesn’t wear a white dress.”

Seated across from him, feet kicked up on the table, Woo sports a mischievous grin. “So, what does she wear?”

Hongjoong sneaks up behind Woo, wringing his hands on the back of his chair. “Leave him alone” he hisses, popping Woo in the head with a half empty water bottle. Woo flinches, crying out in pain. “You might be the boss but that doesn’t mean you can hit me!” Hongjoong just rolls his eyes, nudging him out of the chair and taking it for himself. “That’s exactly what that means.”

A thousand thoughts swirl around Jongho’s mind. There’s no way he’s answering that question. But the silence is getting to him. The curious stares of his three best friends dare him to blurt out details they’ll no doubt use to torture him with. “Yoga pants and a t-shirt” Jongho mumbles under his breath, instantly regretting his decision to speak.

Hongjoong squints, leaning in closer, “Did you say…yoga pants and a t-shirt?” San freezes in place, a fork full of salad hovering near lips that curl into a smile as Hongjoong repeats the words.

His three friends burst into laughter. Especially Woo who can't keep from howling at this new bit of information. Hongjoong tries and fails to supress some of his amusement but the other two couldn’t care less. They’re almost doubled over in disbelief. “Boys, I think he’s finally lost it” Woo says, patting Jongho on the shoulder.

Jongho grabs him by the wrist, squeezing it just enough to make his annoyance be known. “I’m stronger than Hongjoong. If I hit you I’ll break something.” Knowing better than to test him too much, Woo pulls his hand back. “Hey, leave him alone!” San demands, coming to Woo's defense, “It’s not his fault your apartment’s haunted by a phantom yoga instructor.”

Drinking down the rest of his coffee at record speed, Jongho rises from his chair. “Fuck you guys.” He turns to Hongjoong, his stone face plunging the room into silence once more, “I’m taking an early day today.”

Hongjoong must admit he thought it was a prank when Woo first told him what Jongho had confessed at the bar the night before. The girl who lived in the apartment before him died in it. He only found out after he’d already moved in and weird things began happening. Nothing scary. Just small things like the TV being on when he knew he turned it off. Cups being rearranged in the cabinets. His downstairs neighbor asking him to keep the music down in the afternoon when he knew for a fact he hadn’t been home all day. It was weeks before he actually saw her and he was sure he’d, as Woo so eloquently put it, “lost it”.

The ghost...the girl...she was nothing like the ones he’d seen in horror movies or heard about in scary stories growing up. In most ways she was like any other girl. She wasn’t transparent, she definitely didn’t go “Boo”, and she had no intentions of freaking him out. At least not any more than she already had.

She just couldn’t pass on and she didn’t know why. So they struck up a deal. If she helped around the house and kept the music down he wouldn’t try to get rid of her. A part of him enjoyed the company of his new ghostly friend. She was gentler than a lot of the guys he hung with. Easier to open up around too. A perk he’d only come to appreciate in this moment was that she couldn’t run her mouth either.

Feeling a tinge of guilt wash over him, Hongjoong shoots the other two an icy glare that tells them to give Jongho a break…or else. “Look, we’re sorry. Really” Hongjoong apologizes, “You’re just not the type of person to believe in these things. I mean, come on. A ghost?”

“Ooh, ghosts? I see Halloween came early” Yunho sings, strolling into the break room. Sensing the tension, Yunho goes straight to the refridgerator to grab his lunch. He tosses it into the microwave, the beeping of the few buttons he hits the only sound filling the room. He turns to the others, arms folded across his chest. “Is anyone gonna tell me what’s going on or…”

All eyes are on Jongho who refuses to meet anyone’s gaze. “I’m not saying it again” he says defiantly, heading for the door. “Jongho’s house is haunted” San spills out, his mouth now full of food. “By a yoga instructor” Woo tags onto the end. Jongho glances over his shoulder, his hand wrapped around the doorknob. “She isn’t a yoga instructor!” Anger boils up inside of him again as he prepares for yet another person to laugh at him. It never happens, instead Yunho seems almost happy.

“Wait, you guys are serious aren’t you?” Yunho asks, secretly praying that this isn’t some sort of joke. Jongho sighs, relieved that at least someone isn’t set on being an asshole today. “They aren’t lying. My apartment’s haunted…or whatever.” Yunho’s eyes light up in a way that makes Jongho instantly uncomfortable. He’s never looked at him this way before and he never wants him to again.

Before Jongho can resist, Yunho’s long arms are wrapped around him as he squeals with joy. “This is amazing. Can I come over later?”

“What? No!”

“Come on, don’t be grumpy my little teddy bear” Yunho pouts, “I swear on my life you won’t regret it.”

Jongho drops his head and closes his eyes. Maybe if he wishes really hard Yunho will go away. “I won’t regret it because you aren’t coming over” he says through gritted teeth.

Never one to be defeated, Yunho decides to pull out the big guns. “Let me come over or I’ll hug you every time I see you for the next month!” Threatening any of the other guys was easy. Jongho could do it in his sleep. But Yunho? That’s a different beast entirely. It doesn’t matter what Jongho says or does. If Yunho wants a hug he’s coming in for one. He’s relentless and Jongho knows it. There is no other option.

“Shit…fine” Jongho relents, “You can come over but don’t make it a thing.” “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Yunho cheers, “You won’t regret this. I swear to you.” Jongho moves to break free of Yunho’s loving embrace when the break room door opens once more.

Yeosang stands in the doorway taking in the current scene being played out before him. He clears his throat, forcing a smile. “Uh, hmm. Right. Should I come back later? You seem…” His gaze trails up and down Jongho’s body, “Busy.”

“Aah! I hate it here!” Jongho whines, storming out of the break room. Hongjoong jumps to his feet, peeking his head out after him. “We love you too!”

“Mmm, this smells wonderful” you hum, eyes closed as you inhale the aroma rising from the pots on the stove. It takes some time to pinpoint each scent. Roasted chilies, garlic, wine, braised pork. Sometimes if you picture it in your mind, remembering the times you’ve had it before, you can almost taste it again. How long has it been since you really tasted something? You push the thought to the back of your mind. It’s best not to think that way.

“No drooling in the food please” Jongho teases, sliding in beside you to switch a burner off. You poke him in the side, making him jump a bit. “I’ll have you know I can’t drool!”

“I’ve seen you sleeping. You can drool. It’s like ectoplasm or something.”

"Ectoplasam? You're banned from watching Ghostbusters ever again" you say, easing yourself up onto the counter.

Laying back on the smooth marble, you stare up at the new overhead light Jongho had installed after he moved in. It’s black at the center with long, illuminated arms outstretched like sunbeams. How long has it been since you saw the sun? Not through a window or on the TV but outside. Outside? What a silly thought. There is no outside. At least not for you. Not anymore.

Shifting your focus to something less depressing, you decide to do one of your favorite things. Watch Jongho cook. Watching him do anything is entertainment enough for you if you’re being honest. Especially tonight when his clothes perfectly accentuate the shape of his body. You dare not lay eyes on him in the shower but you imagine it’d be quite the sight to see.

“Picturing me naked again…” Jongho accuses, turning around to playfully pinch your belly. Rather, pinch where it would be. His hand goes straight through you, it can’t be helped, but it tickles for both of you. “Get your head out of the gutter and your hand out of my small intestine Choi Jongho” you giggle, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Sorry” he apologizes, turning back to the stove, “Pretty sure it was your appendix though.”

Classic Jongho. Always intent on getting the last word. You’ve never met someone who spoke so little but had so much to say all at the same time. In the years since this apartment became your permanent residence a few other people have come and gone. The girl with the dog that never stopped barking and the guy whose girlfriend smelled like raw onions.

Unfortunately, death hadn’t dulled your sense of hearing or smell so when it all became too unbearable you chased them off. Sent a few dishes flying off the shelves, made the microwave explode, put all of the furniture on the ceiling. They never made it a month before running away.

This one, though, you never imagined chasing off. He has the cutest pet turtle that doesn’t bark at all. No stinky girlfriend to speak of and his cologne certainly adds a sweet smell to the apartment. And he can see you. More than that, he wants to.

As Jongho grabs some plates from the cabinet you notice that he’s only grabbed two. Typically he’d throw one in for you too even though you technically can’t eat it. Why would he want his best friend to see that he sets a place for his pet ghost? The instant the answer to that question dawns on you, a knock at the door sends you into a frenzy. This is it. It’s happening.

You zoom into the hallway where a full body mirror hangs on the outside of a closet door. Twirling around you smooth over your clothing, inspect the subtle gloss on your lips. “How do I look?” you ask, reentering the living room with your fingers toiling away at your hair. Jongho watches you for a moment. You’re so clueless sometimes that it’s adorable.

“You look how you always look.”

“Which is…”

“Pretty. Perfect. Beautiful. Life changing” he rambles, showering you with the compliments you were fishing for. Not that he doesn’t mean them.

You hop on the couch, sitting on your knees like an overexcited puppy. “Thank you! You can open it now!” Knowing he has to move quickly before he changes his mind, Jongho braces himself for the worst and opens the door.

“Okay, where is she?” Yunho asks, pushing his way through the partially open door. Scurrying over from the couch, you follow behind the tall man. Jongho rarely has anyone over and when he does naturally it’s to see him. It’s difficult to contain your excitement about having a visitor of your own.

“It’s nice to see you too” Jongho says, dripping sarcasm. “Ghostly beauty, reveal yourself!” Yunho calls out to the empty space around him. “He’s funny” you laugh, inspecting his rather impressive dinner attire, “I like him.” Jongho rakes his fingers through his hair, sure he’s lost a few strands from stress. “Yeah, that makes one of us.”

“You’re making this weird” a deep voice sounds from behind you. The voice is different from others you’ve heard in recent memory. Up until now every voice has seemed to come from a distance. The ones you’ve grown familiar with, like Jongho’s or the ones on your favorite shows, feel closer than others. None of them come close to this one. The clarity is entracing and, without a thought, you’re hunting for the source of the sound.

Trailing in behind Yunho you see another tall man, every visible inch of his skin covered in artfully executed tattoos. In a knit sweater and a pair of jeans, his clothing is far less formal than Yunho’s. He wears black circle rimmed glasses that compliment the sharpness of his nose. As you approach, you see your reflection in them and are almost embarrassed by how hypnotized you appear. Thank god he can’t see you.

“Who is this?” you ask Jongho, without glancing back. A puzzled Jongho locks the door, unsure what to make of your stranger than usual behavior. “That’s Yunho, I told you…”

“No,” you interrupt, “This one. Who’s this one?”

Your question does something to the nameless man standing before you. It’s as if the world has come crashing down around him. He’s flooded with every emotion he’s ever known of, some he didn’t know he could feel. “Mingi” he speaks to you and only you. Mingi closes the space between you, stars shining in his eyes. He can see you.

Yunho gasps, hands thrown over his mouth, "Holy shit, she can see him too..."

#ateez au #ateez x female reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #jongho x reader #song mingi x reader #jongho x you #song mingi x you #chubby reader #plus size reader #ateez x you #ateez x reader

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anchoeritic · 1 year

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「 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍’𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!jake sully x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: (18+), heartbreak, angsty angst, jake being lost, reader is tsu’tey & neytiri’s daughter, mentions of heart beating, slight age gap (9-10 years), lil bit of violence.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: jake sully finds himself back in his original place of rebirth, searching for something more than answers; the girl he once left behind long ago.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: the start of a new series. this is my first lil passion project so i’m super excited. i hope you all enjoy the first addition. reblogs and feedback are appreciated. ♡

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

0:00

“Welcome home, brother!”

The call of an ikran was heard throughout the forest as you saw a taller figure hop off of it, petting its head reassuringly.

It was Jake’s ikran.

Silence filled the room as he finally faced his front to the family, searching for the voice. Could’ve heard a pin drop from how silent it was in there.

Should’ve known what you were getting yourself into you when you first got caught up with jake.

Your relationship with him was complicated. wrong. Actually, wrong is an understatement; you would get your eyes plucked out by your mother if she ever found out of your sins.

Jake was your dad’s best friend, once an enemy.

He was mistaken for taking your mother’s hand, creating a close bond with her the moment his avatar stepped foot on the land of pandora.

Eywa had chosen him to be here, present. That’s what your mother told you amongst the many other stories shared; like toruk makto. Rider of the last shadow, they called it.

He came flying in on the back of toruk with a look of determination. Might’ve not been the best time after your father accused of him of mating with your mother, but the war was eventually won with the help of the people, your people.

Another friendship between Jake and your father was created that day onwards, forgiving each other of their bad communications, and seeing one another for what they really stood for.

“Jake?” You whispered to yourself quietly, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, peach.” following your voice, he shifted his gaze right onto you, looking at you with a sympathetic smile. “You miss me?”

Frozen in place, you stood with your arms crossed. “Thought you were residing at Awa’atlu.”

“You don’t miss me?” He dodged your response.

You rolled your eyes at his words, leaving his question open-ended once again.

The three sighed; your father shooing you away with his hand.

Taking this as your cue to leave, you quickly shuffle away from your mother’s side, running off to another part of the forest.

0:40

“Get it together.” You said to yourself looking down at the river stream, staring into your reflection.

“He isn’t good for you.” Your feet dangled over the waters, dipping in every now and then when the tides would grow stronger. “He never was.”

Reassurances told to you.. by you.. maybe isn’t the best way to try to overcome something as difficult as love is.

Of course, you missed him. It wasn’t like he meant nothing to you. In your eyes, he was your first love. He still is.

The memories shared with him were never forgotten, they couldn’t ever be erased from your mind. the times spent at river creeks, under the brightest stars, they weren’t for nothing.

He wasn’t exactly the vocal type when it came to being emotional. His way of affection was his acts of service: going down on you.

It started as training lessons, who knew it would’ve ended with his face between your thighs, holding you by your hips down as you cried for him to let you finish.

One time turned into two times, turned into every other night. sneaking out of your hammock, making sure you don’t wake anyone, meeting up with him at river creeks.

As much as the attraction was shown through physical touch, sometimes, it got emotional.

His head would be laid on your lap as you hummed a tune, your fingers tracing shapes into his toned chest.

You’d share about your day, telling him the awful stories you gained from teaching the little ones about the plants scattered across the forest grounds.

Everything you experienced with him, it felt like a dream. He was a dream to you.

The way his ears would perk up at the sound of your laughs, his smile widening until his pearly whites were shown. It was all perfect, all of it, until he took his leave without a notice. Especially, without telling you.

Not a note, a single goodbye, just an illuminated pathway of his footsteps leading out and away from between the hometrees.

You still remember that night like it was yesterday. The call of his ikran still makes your ears ring when you think of it, followed by the sounds of your own sniffling.

He’d only send you a ripped up letter with the directions of his new home: all the way at the Pandoran reefs.

But at one point, you became numb at the thought of his disappearance, finally accepting that he isn’t the one for you.

If Eywa brought him here to the clan, she could’ve easily been the one to take him right out.

Kicking rocks, you made your way back to your hammock, slipping into it with ease. The mere thought of jake made your skin crawl.

He left the clan with nothing of him and expects for everyone to welcome him back like this was ever considered his home? You held resentment against him. Maybe, you were just being stubborn too.

“Hey,” a voice called out from behind a tree.

Turning your head around quickly, you went into defense mode, letting your walls build back up.

“Who’s there?” You hissed, pointing an arrow at the tree. “Show yourself!”

You should’ve expected who walked out from behind. God, how stupid were you to give him this sort of entertainment. This was not the type of reunion you were hoping for.

Jake raised his hands up in a truce, signalling that he was strictly here to make peace. Possibly.

“It’s just me,” he started, “lower your bow.”

Shaking your head, you only pulled the string up further, pointing at your target: his head.

God, it took so much in you not to let his brains splatter all over the grounds. Your ancestors would’ve been cheering you on from the sidelines.

“Leave me alone, demon!” he backed up slowly, hands still being held up. “What do you want from me, Sully.”

He looks at you puzzled, shaking his head. “i don’t want anything from you? Just wanted to make sure you were okay, sweetheart—“

Nervous, he put his hands behind his head, showing that he wasn’t looking for any trouble.

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You lowered your bow, mounting it on your back again. “You lost those privileges the same night you lost me.”

“Listen—“

“Watch your mouth, I’m not the same naïve girl you left behind.” Your words were venomous to him, it was worse than the bite of a snake, but you can’t say it wasn’t well deserved.

“Just. Just leave me be, Jake.” Sighing, you walked back to your hammock, completely ignoring his presence. You got the last word in, that’s all you cared about.

It wasn’t like he was ever going to. He didn’t even do it when he had the balls to leave the forest.

1:11

That was temporary happiness, bound to be lost but he tried to find a loophole to keep it lasting,

He ran back to you.

An exhausted groan was followed by his footsteps retreating back. You were a hard shell to crack, even tougher than the first time.

The realization didn’t hit you until well after he left you alone; your quiet cries and reassurances to yourself were drowned out by the hard rainfall.

“Please, Eywa.” You looked down at your hands, trembling in the coldness as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.

Your hammock was soaked in the natural waters, goosebumps running up and down your arms.

It was like your tears were the rain. Smaller plants were toppling over, the rain covering every square inch of the forest.

The emotions you held to yourself, the ones you could never speak of out loud, only Eywa could’ve heard you grieving for your old self.

Eywa heard you and made her presence known to you, like the same night you experienced your heart split into two.

The same one Jake Sully had caused you.

1:41 ⤿ 1:00

“Find yourself, y/n.” he rubbed your back, kissing the crown of your head.

The same hot tears were still spilling, but in his hands now. He wasn’t only carrying the weight of his guilt, but the pureness of your tears as they continued to drag him down.

“I-I don’t know how to, jake,” you whisper, “I can’t without you.”

“I know you can, baby,” he’s wiping away your tears with a soft smile on his face.

He held your hand in his tightly, pressing a kiss to the top before placing it over his own heart. “You feel that?”

Bum, bum, bum. The time between his heartbeats became shorter and shorter as seconds went by, the feeling underneath your palm was on the verge of explosion. His heart was strong enough to play a set of drums.

“A strong heart,” you looked into his eyes.

Hee stared back at you with the same smile, placing a hand over your heart. “My strong heart, you will be without me one day.”

“Don’t say that.” You shook your head, sniffling.

“One day will happen sooner or later.”

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut #avatar smut #avatar #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #jake sully x fem!reader

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temis-de-leon · 1 month

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Solomon x gn!reader in trad goth attire

Characters: Solomon, reader

Masterlist

Anon request: Hey again! ☆ can i request Solomon reacting to !gn reader dressing in traditional goth wardrobe for the first time?

Prompt can be changed to you liking and whether it's in the form of a fic, headcanons or shitpost is up to you ♡☆

A/N: I based MC's clothes and makeup on 80's trad goth fashion. MC is a lil' black sheep and Solomon (and me) are simping for them. This is set at the start of season 2 in the OG game. Hope you enjoy it!

Solomon didn’t really think about the way you looked. He’d seen Asmo make infinite assumptions about your appearance and he had to admit he put some input from time to time, but he didn’t really mind. He was content talking to and seeing your adorable miniature bovine body, black wool and all.

And it was that, the wool, what they should’ve taken into consideration when wondering about the real version of you.

There he stood, mere feet away from you, gawking as you talked on the phone; one of the brothers, perhaps? Your figure seemed impossibly tall, clashing against the crowd on your black attire: long leather coat almost touching the floor, a concoction of lace and velvet on your upper body and fishnets making your legs even lengthier.

He couldn’t stop staring; not even when the people around him looked at him in reprimand, surely taking him as a creep.

Then you blocked the phone and his plans of reinserting himself into your life as his usual mysterious self were forgotten. Rushing towards you, still transfixed by what he was seeing, Solomon called your name.

“Over here, MC!”

“Solomon?!”

He relished in your dumbfounded expression, giving himself the freedom to study you from up-close. Your face was as white as a sheet of paper and your eyes were framed by a complicated design of thick black lines. The hair on your head vaguely reminded him of the wool you had as a sheep, wild with no sense of direction, and he couldn’t help but smile at the comparison.

“You’re staring an awful lot and saying little to nothing”

Solomon chuckled, not embarrassed at all, and you smiled. The colour of your lips matched the makeup surrounding your gaze.

“I’m merely admiring you, MC. I never expected you to have this fashion style”

“And? Does my fashion style live to your expectations?”

He checked your lips again and didn’t bother to hide his interest when you bit your bottom one. Its contrast against the white of your teeth and the rest of your face didn’t let him stop staring.

Obsessing.

“I’d say it does more than that”

There was silence for a few seconds, other humans around you going through their lives without knowing what was happening between you two. Did you even know?

You finally laughed and lightly punched his arm, breaking the trance and leaving a certain tension behind. Solomon smiled in return and chose to leave the topic, at least for the time being.

“What are you doing here? It’s been so long!”

He sighed in a dramatic flair.

“Well, you know me… I’ve been occupied”

“And you show up now because…?”

You raised your eyebrows, making him laugh. He couldn’t distract you even if he tried, probably because he himself was distracted.

Your lips were so black.

“I was thinking…”

“You think too much”

“I was thinking. How do you feel about a brief visit to the Devildom?”

He enjoyed your immediate interest, back straightening as you got close to him in delight.

“What do you mean?”

“Surely you miss the brothers, right? And of course they miss you too, so, wouldn’t a quick trip be worth our while?

The mistrust in your eyes was quickly overpowered by your eagerness, the crosses in your earrings and your necklaces calling for his attention when they clanged like a wind chime.

“Perhaps you want to take those off”

“Oh, yeah”

Fingernails were black too, but your jewellery was entirely made of silver and stones, big and small, carefully placed in all your digits, your wrists and everything that allowed to wear something.

It became hypnotizing and he couldn’t avoid blushing in embarrassment when you finally snapped your fingers in his face while laughing in amusement.

Solomon couldn’t help but redirect his vision to your lips one last time.

How would he look with black lipstick?

Care to stick with him a little longer, MC?

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me solomon #om! solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x gn!reader #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me requests #obey me fluff #obey me writing #solomon x reader

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galaxycunt · 7 months

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You Turned Me Inside Out

4k ish fluff and angst

Leave a comment if you wanna!

You’ve sent the divorce papers with a news coo until they became tired of you. Still, you persisted. You figured Buggy wasn’t dead yet, you would’ve been told right?

Your think back on that quick courthouse wedding, you were seven months pregnant, Buggy even bribed a clerk to keep quiet. Wouldn’t do a husband any good to be arrested on his wedding day.

You thought it was romantic at the time, even if your first marriage was officiated by your first mate. Less complicated that way. Maybe that was a bad omen, he was good for awhile. He left you both, even a guy with a bad childhood didn’t see anything wrong with giving it to his own. Even left your daughter with his nose.

You kept your bar, plenty of sailors talked shit about marrying you. The townsfolk pitied you, you decide awhile ago to say you were widowed. Less humiliating that way. Even if he was dead, Buggy never was letting you go anyway. Your baby had your smile, so she smiled for the both of you these days.

The baker’s daughter watched her awhile you ran the bar. It was an easy enough arrangement, you always adjusted to new plans on the fly.

And that’s when you see him.

“Cabaji,” you yell across the crowded bar, “unless you’re waving a white flag, get the fuck out!”

Your loyal patrons readied themselves for a fight, who needed a ship when you had drunks?

”Look! Sorry! The captain wanted me to check the place out!”

You hop over the bar, marching straight to him, “where is he?”

He obviously didn’t enjoy this task, you always liked Cabaji.

”On the ship.”

”Folks, I’ll be right back. I got kids upstairs, don’t start a riot. Alright?”

A rousing ‘aye, aye!’ surrounds you both, you may have never had a high bounty like your husband, but you had that.

Cabaji leads you to the Big Top, your nerves gnawing at you. You’re worried you’ll kill him, his crew then turning to kill you. Leaving your daughter all alone.

You shook those thoughts out, settling in the pit of your stomach.

Buggy was waiting for news in his cabin, and Cabaji reluctantly leaves you to knock on his door alone.

He swung the door open, like he was waiting for that knock. Only to be faced with you.

”You…it’s really you.”

“You have a fucking wife, remember?”

His shoulders drop, “I…I know.”

You slap him, and he takes it with grace. You decide one isn’t good enough, slapping him a few more times.

”Glad that wasn’t a punch,” he tries to joke.

”I’m a better person now, for my daughter.”

”How is she?”

”You don’t get to ask that.”

He gives a nod, “how are you?”

”Sign those papers, I’ll be much better.”

”I can’t do that.”

You search his face, Buggy looking like a kicked puppy pissed you off more than anything else.

”You left us, just let me go.”

”I have plenty of excuses, none you wanna hear.”

You stare into his eyes, hoping he would combust. You damn your heart, because you want to hear it all. You spit on the floor turning to leave, Buggy following you back to your bar. You’ll feel better once it was on your turf.

The patrons watch him over their mugs, you motion Buggy to sit on an empty stool. You ignore him for most of the night, thinking if you should go get your baby. Buggy looked pathetic, staring at his beer. You had a soft spot, begging to be acknowledged.

With a sigh, you go upstairs to let your sitter go home. Your baby looks too much like him, especially when she cries. You love your kid, you do, you just wish she wasn’t his.

”Here,” you say, “you run off with her I will kill you.”

She’s a lot bigger than he remembers, it had been 4 months since he held her last. Buggy knits his brows and frowns, holding her tight. The man sitting next to him coos at your child, making him beam with pride.

You should’ve known that’s all it would take, Buggy loved the spotlight. At least the little red nose was cuter on her, he kissed it enough to make her giggle. Being a dad was easy, he just got to sit there and make her happy.

You hate him for this. You consider killing him now anyway.

“Out with it then, another fucking bird try to eat you?”

”Do we gotta talk here?”

You look around, a few people are pretending to not eavesdrop. It gives you some courage, that you’re totally in the right here.

”Yup.”

He sighs, “damn it. Fuck, okay fine. I was nervous. I was tired. I needed a fucking break.”

”Oh, this is incredible. Please keep going.”

He groans, “I was gonna only be gone a few days. Retire on a high note.”

”Captain Buggy retiring? I liked the bird story better.”

He looks down at your daughter, his finger being gummed to death. He lets her have the whole hand, rubbing his face with a forearm.

”Okay, so not a permanent one. But long enough! You’ve done it, you know the deal.”

“I didn’t have a kid yet.”

He whispers your name, “I love you. I love her. I’m here now, that’s gotta count for something.”

”Do you even remember her god damn name?”

He looks down at her, “Marcela. She has my heart on a string, you both do.”

You should’ve known better, pirates didn’t get tied down. You both knew a baby’s place wasn’t a ship, and his wasn’t a nursery.

”Well, you saw her, guess you’ll see her again when she’s 18.”

“Oh come on, barkeep, I haven’t seen my own kids in years. Man’s gotta work.”

”Shut the fuck up, Benny. Your wife hates it and so do I. All wives do!”

You point at Buggy, “not all husbands have detachable dicks. Should’ve cut that off while I had the chance.”

”You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

You smile, “you married this bitch. Guess you’re gonna have to sign those papers.”

He grumbled, reattaching his hand so he could hold the baby better before slamming his beer. Buggy continued to glare at you the whole night, to his credit, he would stumble upstairs occasionally to change her and hand her off to you to get fed.

At closing time, you found them both asleep in the corner. You could cry, seeing her peacefully in his arms. He should’ve stayed, he was cruel and nothing would let you forget.

You whisper in his ear, “Buggy. Let me take her up.”

He yawns, gently passing Marcela to you. She only stirs a little bit, and you hope she’s at the point where she’s finally sleeping through the night.

Buggy notices how tired you are, “permission to come aboard?”

You shake your head, “no.”

”I’m your husband.”

”You didn’t care about that detail until now.”

He balls his fist, “I never forgot.”

You shush him, shooing him away as you take her upstairs. He follows you anyway, and you remember the rifle above your bed. You’ll use it if you have to.

You put Marcela to bed, Buggy right beside you, regarding her like she was made of glass. He let out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. A shy smile you could see in the dim light.

”I’ll walk you out,” you urge.

He doesn’t put up a fight, only lingering at the front door.

“Goodnight, Buggy.”

”Wait, can I come back?”

”Why would I want that?”

“Oh, come on! I’m not the first fucking pirate having to go do their thing! Not like she’s too old to even remember me!”

”Fuck off Buggy. You made a fool of me more than once.”

He frowns, “baby I’m sorry.”

You shove him outside, slamming the door and locking it tight. He bangs on the door a few times, shouting and cursing.

“Don’t wake up the baby!”

He stops, storming off in a huff. You figure this was going to be a yearly occurrence, more if you were lucky. You wonder briefly if you should take up one of those regulars on their offer of marriage, if only to make Buggy pissed off.

Buggy was persistent, showing up early the next day. You had stepped outside with your baby to walk around only to be surprised by him, a punch to his gut for his trouble.

”God! Morning to you too.”

”Buggy, I’m surprised you’re still in town.”

You can’t stand the sight of him, but he does look good without his make up. The morning sun bathes him in a heavenly light, picking up stray strands of hair like a halo. He looks at you like he was thinking the same thing. He smiled the way he always did with you, his gaze soft as he stepped in your personal space.

Buggy knew how to turn on the charm like a switch. You didn’t want this Buggy, you married the real one.

”How’d you sleep?”

”Fine, been doing fine for months I’ll have you know.”

He grazes your shoulder with his as you kept walking, “where you headed?”

”The beach. She likes waves.”

A futile attempt to shake him off, he spent time on the ocean even with his weakness. Buggy didn’t show any hesitation in following you, eyes glued to the carriage in front of you. You figure it’s an ego thing, she looks like his little clone.

He helps set down a blanket with all her toys, laying on his belly with her as he she coos. You couldn’t fold this easy, turning away to count the ships docked in the distance. It was easier when it was just you and him, sleeping together before he took off for who knows how long. You really should’ve married someone else, he knew how to sell himself too well.

“Does she get, uh well, do people,” he motions to his nose.

”Oh no, I think it’s cute on her. Don’t think anyone really wants to insult a baby in front of me.”

He smiles, “glad to hear it. You let me know if I need to knock some heads. Both of you.”

He lays on his back, dangling Marcela above him.

”Stop that.”

”Oh, she’s fine. She’s laughing, I got her.”

”No,” you're on the brink of tears, “stop acting like you give a shit. Just get outta here. I’ll marry the baker, he’s bonafide.”

”Bonafide? Ain’t I bonafide?”

You shake your head and he huffs.

”I give a shit. I actually take my vows seriously.”

”You left, couldn’t be fucked to be a real husband and father.”

Buggy sets the baby back down, turning to look at you. You swat his hands away, regretting that you been humoring him this long.

”If I knew letting you keep my balls would settle things, I would’ve,” he grumbles.

”Yeah, it would actually! I need a new stress ball!”

Buggy grits his teeth, “you’re the only one in the East Blue who’d even think about saying those things to Buggy The Clown.”

It was getting childish, kicking sand at him, “I’m not your god damn fan. I say whatever the fuck I want.”

”At least I’m not a fucking baker.”

”Yeah, if your baking is like your cooking, you’d be lousy at it!”

He laughs, a long hearty one. He picks up your baby, walking her to the edge of the shore, letting her toes dip into the warm waters. You’re hiding a smile, fatherhood looks good on him. And he knows it, laughing in your face like that. You suppose you couldn’t blame the guy, Roger was the last person you’d expect to teach a kid manners.

”Hey,” he calls out, “you pack a lunch?”

You nod, and he gives a thumbs down, “I’m taking my girls out. Get some good grub.”

You really should decline, “there’s a cafe on the pier. Great pancakes.”

”Let’s go then!”

So you spend the day with him, Buggy was mostly hush about what he was out doing. Out of shame or boredom, you couldn’t tell. Buggy even helps you stock the bar, shooing away your extra help when she arrived. You let it happen, and you’re not sure why.

Maybe if he wants to spend the night, you’ll lock his hands and feet away so he can’t escape this time. You look at his hands, thinking about the last time you let him hold you.

God, are you that weak? Are you really falling for your husband again?

Funny joke, he should hire you as a writer.

”What’s up, baby?”

”I think you should stay the night.”

His face lights up, “great. That’s so great.”

He detaches from his legs, letting his torso twirl around with you and Marcela in his arms. You let out a gasp as he did it, holding onto him tighter.

The first time he did this to you, you felt like a fairy.

“You’re so cute when you blush.”

”I’m not blushing.”

He tilts your chin up, “you are.”

You shake your head, finishing up your tasks. It had been hell since you saw Buggy last, your heart yearned for him every day. Pirates aren’t used to being so open with their feelings, you wonder if he meant it when he wanted to keep your hair in a locket. You sent it with a letter, he only thanked you.

”Buggy, did you even miss me?”

He was changing a diaper, nearly dropping the pin, “of course I did.”

”Are you lying?”

His hand flies to you for a moment, stroking your hair. You shove it away, and he recalled it back to pop into place.

”I could never lie to you.”

”You just leave out the truth.”

He looks as heartbroken as you, “I’m not a good man, I’m sorry I gave you that impression. But I love you, I love our family.”

You only nod, ignoring him the rest of the night. The patrons don’t flirt with you, now that your daughter was being held by her father in the corner of the bar. Someone puts on the record player, a romantic song wafting in the air. Didn’t fit for a sailor bar, catchy enough that they sing anyway.

”May I have this dance?”

”They'll have my head if drinks ain’t poured fast enough.”

”Let ‘em,” he whispers in your ear.

Two hands are still holding Marcela in her seat, his forearms wrap around you as he swings you around. You always loved a man who can dance, and as expected Buggy was a showy dancer. Even without fingers he dipped and twirled you, lifting you up and over.

You collapse into his chest once the song was over, you’re guided back to the bar so you could pour drinks. A smile doesn’t leave either of your faces.

”Sir, your girl is the best thing that could ever happen to us salty dogs!”

”Don’t I fucking know it,” he beams.

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he returns with your baby, hopping on the counter he gives a sharp whistle.

”Alright listen up, today’s my little girl’s half birthday. A round on me!”

The loud commotion doesn’t bother her too much, Buggy still making sure to cover her ears as he grins at you. In this moment, you’re completely charmed. You’re too afraid to kiss him, you know you shouldn’t kiss him. But he grins and your daughter laughs and maybe, just maybe it’s okay.

He offers to close the bar, and you insist to count the money. He didn’t leave you high and dry last time, but you weren’t that stupid.

Soon he trudges upstairs, kicking his boots off. He sits on the bed only a moment, before shaking his head.

”Do you want me here? Or should I sleep on the couch?”

”Couch.”

”Okay. Hey uh, can I kiss you?”

”What?”

”Just the cheek? The nose? A hand?”

You must be tired, “kiss me like a man, Buggy.”

He kisses you slowly, treading carefully until you push him away. He clears his throat, and sleeps on the couch as promised.

You wake up before him, realizing he let you sleep the whole night. You always liked watching him, it was rare that you were up before him. Buggy was like some strange version of an angel, those long lashes fluttering, chiseled jaw and lovely lips.

You crawl closer to him, his breath hot on your face. You kiss his nose, if you could even call that. It’s so light, there was no way he could feel it.

His eyes flutter open anyway, “well, hello.”

”Thanks for letting me sleep.”

”Go back to bed, she’s still sleeping too.”

Your heart goes soft, come with me, you want to say. Instead, you let sleep overtake you again.

You aren’t sure of the time it is now, and you notice Buggy was gone. You strain to listen to your baby, you didn’t hear anything either. In a panic, you shoot up.

”Buggy?”

”In here!”

Oh thank fuck.

He’s on the floor, playing with your daughter. You ease your heartbeat, standing there a little awkwardly.

“C’mere.”

He drapes an arm over you, “can that kid watch Marcie today? I wanna take you out, just us.”

”I’m not a cheap date.”

”Oh, I know.”

You haven’t dressed up in ages, nervously fussing with your hair until he knocks on the bathroom door.

“Be out in a minute.”

What were you even doing? How many women do you know with husbands like him? The loneliness, the worry. It was easier when you were younger, Buggy was made for the sea. He couldn’t stand being on land for long.

So why did you marry him? Because he was funny? Because he was cute? He loved you the only way he knew how; a captive audience, an adoring fan.

But that’s not really true, is it? It never was for you, he loves you honestly. A rare thing from a pirate.

Buggy whistles at the sight of you, “gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Bug.”

”Only stating the obvious, I could go on but, we got plans tonight don’t we?”

He doesn’t fit in amongst the diners surrounding you. If not his best outfit being a striped shirt and dirty pants, it’s his leg on the chair arm with a drink in his hand. People gawk at his nose when he’s not looking, thankfully focused on you.

If you were honest, you didn’t belong in this place either.

“Why are we here Buggy?”

”You deserve it, had a pretty good haul awhile ago.”

”That why you left?”

He grimaces, “yeah. Found a map.”

You look at your plate, chewing slowly. Buggy drinks more than he eats.

”We were arguing more, you seemed so unhappy. I uh, figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

Your vision blurs, “you should’ve told me.”

”I know honey, I know. I never…I never sat still long. As much as I’d like to.”

He insisted it could work at the time, claiming that pirating would be a side gig. Pirates weren’t built for that, as much as Buggy loved his circus you know he loved treasure more.

”So now what? When’s the next time you’re just gonna run?”

Buggy wouldn’t face you, “I-I don’t know. I do know…I won’t leave you stranded. Not again. Ever.”

You lose your appetite, running out on him. You aren’t sure where you were going, running towards the ships docked in the pier. He’s right behind you, shouting your name. You ignore it, reaching his ship.

You wish you kept a bottle, you’d burn the damn thing down. You laugh bitterly, the sea really is his mistress.

“Baby, hey. Let’s talk.”

”If I didn’t send that letter, would you even come back? When I was pregnant?”

Buggy holds your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. His jaw is tense, his fingers tremble. You never seen him so undone.

”I never left. Not really. I married you because I love you.”

”Don’t bullshit.”

”I’m not.”

You slap him, “don’t lie to me.”

”I’m not.”

You shove him, “don’t lie to me!”

“Baby stop! I’m sorry okay! God damn.”

You attempt to knock his head off his shoulders. He grabs your hand before you do, “come on. Let me show you something.”

He leads you to his cabin, among the mess and clutter he digs for something. He hands you a box, all your letters, photos, even an old wanted poster. He even kept a onesie and one of the footprints you thought was thrown away.

“I did it for us, I always do it for us.”

You’re on the verge of tears, “You’re going to Grand Line soon, aren’t you?”

He nods, “I had to square away my affairs, I had to see you again.”

You swallow hard, “how long?”

You never sailed that far, your own crew wasn’t ready for that. If he lived, you knew how long he could be gone.

”I don’t know. I do know one thing, I’ll be back.”

You let him hold you as you cry, you could feel droplets on the top of your head. You both stand there crying for who knows how long. Eventually Buggy kisses your eyes, and you tug on his shirt to pull his lips to yours.

It’s a good sign, you feel fireworks even now. He lifts up your skirt, fingers grazing the waistband of your underwear.

”I love you,” he whispers, “my North Star.”

Buggy stays with you for several weeks, and a small part of you wants to pretend he’s going to stay. When your first love died, you promised to remain by the sea. They’d protect you, even in spirit. You hope that promise extended to Buggy, they would’ve like each other.

You help him ready the ship, Buggy stalling in every way he knew how. Not enough costumes, a spotlight was out, you both knew how this was going to end.

He doesn’t let go of your daughter, showing her every single part of his ship. The crew adores her, promising to make her a cabin girl once she’s old enough. It kind of sounds nice, Buggy plans to bring you along too when the time comes. That sounds pretty good to you too.

Eventually, the Big Top sets sail. You teach Marcela to wave to her daddy, you blow kisses as you shout farewells. You promise to tell her about him, and he promises his damnedest to write every day.

It wasn’t going to be easy, it was going to be lonelier this time around. But you are a beacon, an angel of the sea to guide him home.

#buggy the clown #one piece #buggy x reader #buggy x you

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littledollll · 8 months

Text

Foolish

Lucifer Morningstar x human!reader

A/n: this started as one thing and turned into another so I’m sorry if the plot is all over the place. But hey, first October post, it’s my birthday month‼️

Warnings: humans being stupid, unrequited love? idk what else.

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“Have you ever seen them in such despair?… I’m almost worried for them..” a servant whispered to Mazikeens ear as she watched her lord in what seemed to be a depressive state,but no… That’s not possible… is it? No. The devil, the great ruler of hell doesn’t sulk. At least that’s what she was lead to believe before today.

Mazikeen merely looked her way in acknowledgment. It was a weird sight. She’d been with Lucifer through their best and worse. She’s seen plenty of them in all types of situations, but never like this. She’d hate to admit her lord looked… pitiful? Oh they’d have her head if she ever uttered those words aloud.

Mazikeen ushered the girl away. Lucifer’s pride couldn’t possibly take another hit. Lucifer’s sigh of relief as she left was visible in their shoulders, they turned their back to mazikeen.

“I should’ve known.” Lucifer says under their breath, mostly to themselves. But it was loud enough for her to hear. “An unexpected turn of events, sire. If I may?” With a nod, she approached. If there was anyone with a level head they would listen to, it’s her.

“I don’t know much about all of this. But.. seemed quite hesitant to leave you, you know.” That sounded like a bunch of nonsense to Lucifer if they were honest.

You were truthful hesitant. This dumb mistake of screwing around with things you definitely shouldn’t seemed like a bad idea to even you. But the devil was so captivating.. and you made a promise. Could you break it? Even if it is with the devil how could you?

Oh how they wanted to rage and scream and throw a tantrum. But no no, you’re better than that Lucifer. Much better. “He’s a rat, that man. Stealing away my rightful spouse.” If only it were possible for literal venom to spit through their mouth, it would.

That rat, your friend, of course wouldn’t allow you to go around continuing to indulge yourself in the paranormal. Any well- normal person would also save themselves and their friends from it too. But is breaking a deal with the devil as easy as simply running away?

“Isn’t it more complicated than that, sire?” What a brave thing for her to say. “Complicated? What could possibly be so complicated? It’s simple. They’re my spouse, mine… or at least supposed to be.” Lucifer’s voice goes from angry to solem.

They’d catch up to you eventually. If they ever get over their slump over your involuntary rejection. You can’t run away from the devil anyways. They could find you. They could take you away forever. But does Lucifer truly want to forcefully take you away? They don’t want you here if it’s not by choice. So they’re left to ponder.

“But I should’ve known. Why would they ever want me? Of course I’m great. I’m powerful, I’m wise, I’m beautiful! But I am the devil… isn’t that all they’ll ever see?”

They really are lovesick, aren’t they? Mazikeen couldn’t be more amused. But it’s never a joy to see her lord so pained, of course. “I could list a lot more reasons than you just did for somebody to want to stick by you… it’s foolish if that’s the only reason they aren’t here.” Mazikeen said, sounding confident. But that didn’t really help the devil.

“They probably want a mortal. Somebody who lives in their realm and will die alongside them.” How could the most prideful being in this universe be so pessimistic? “Overrated! They rather that, opposed to you granting them immortality?”

“The mortals see me as evil. Perhaps that’s why.” Excuses excuses excuses. “Sounds idiotic to me. I can’t believe you’re so worked up about some human who obviously isn’t good enough for you.”

Lucifer sighed. “They were perfect.” This whole situation was just making Mazikeen irritated at this point. “Please. It’s a mortal, how perfect can they be? Especially if they turned away from you like that.”

That was quite conflicting. How could they be perfect for each other if their meeting was a coincidence? A mistake made by a foolish human dealing with the otherworldly. But something about you captivated their own soul. Did you not feel the same? Were you mindlessly moving on with your life now, already forgotten about them?

But no, the image of the Beautiful devil haunts you in your sleep. An endless reminder of a walked out deal, a promise. One which will surely come back to bite you some day.

Or not. If you were foolish enough to come back to them.

#the sandman lucifer #the sandman #lucifer gwendoline #mazikeen the sandman #lucifer sandman #gwendoline christie #sandman lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar the sandman #the sandman lucifer morningstar #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #gwendolineuniverse

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diabolikpersonals · 3 months

Text

kanato cl endings!! this is my new favorite kanato route!! and for once, I think the good ending is more satisfying than the bad one lol

euphoria end:

in the church, kanato concludes that he just can’t ignore the sakamaki brothers. he has all kinds of feelings for them, including jealousy and contempt, and because of that, he won’t be able to part with them easily. (thats the most backwards way to say you love them I’ve ever heard, but I’ll take it!! good job, kanato!!) but outside, the scarlet and violet families are arguing over who gets to go inside and steal eve. ayato and laito are standing guard, and even though they’re SO outnumbered, ayato declares that they’ve got no choice but to stop em. and laito says it’s for his oniichan’s sake ^^

kanato… [wiping tears] …wants to go save ayato and laito. he can’t leave them, because they’re brothers who have been together since before they were born.

before he goes, he and yui stand at the altar and yui comments that it feels like a wedding, but kanato refutes that they can’t possibly have a wedding without wedding cake. they have a ring, though! because kanato bit yui’s ring finger earlier and it left a scar. so, because it might be their last time, they exchange vows and kiss.

…which is, of course, the key to leaving this place. everything goes white and they’re back in the real world. yui thinks ayato and laito are dead for a sec, but theyre just snoozin. karl heinz shows up, explains the whole thing, and gives kanato a pat on the back and tells him it’s time to inherit his powers.

kanato says, no way!! I won’t be king. I once thought that I didn’t care about those other guys, but I’ve just realized I have all these complicated feelings about them, and I don’t know what I’ll do if those guys are gone. so I won’t be all alone like you, father.

karl heinz is like “lmao…I’ll give u a little more time” and he disappears. time to go home. kanato jokes that they can leave ayato and the others behind, but he’s not serious >_> so they get to work waking em up. kanato says that he never thought such a day would come, but he misses how noisy the sakamaki house is. (awwww…!!)

back at the sakamaki house, the triplets + yui are studying together for a makeup exam. ayato and laito start goofing off after ten minutes, but kanato is SERIOUS because reiji hid all his sweets so he NEEDS to pass. he kicks his brothers out so he can focus, then grumbles that he should’ve left them at the miniature garden (LMAO) but yui’s like “aww, you’re totally having fun.” they make out and kanato says he loves her no matter where they are, and all’s well that ends well!! good for them!

labyrinth end:

yui confidently tells kanato she’ll trust whatever his decision is, and he’s like “okay. I want to murder everyone.” yui is all UMMM anything but that, please??? but he’s not listening. he sucks her blood till she loses consciousness

it suddenly cuts to carla whipping ruki and shin till they pass out, which is awesome but very unexpected. it’s the first we’ve seen them since they got captured lol. subaru arrives to tell carla that eve is at the church, so off we go!!

at the church, ayato and laito have gotten their asses severely kicked by scarlet fam. yuma also collapses and shu’s like “yuma….!” which is enough otp crumbs to keep me fed all week, thank you very much. carla arrives on the scene and starts shittalking with reiji, but then…!!

………..when yui wakes up, she sees kanato is covered in blood and she’s like “oh god we have to treat ur injuries!” and of course kanato’s like “dont worry, it’s not my blood ^^” he happily tells her that he’s almost finished taking care of things here, and he continues his unspeakable violence. he’s killed everyone and they’re the only ones left. he hugs her, and the blood he’s covered with is still warm.

well it doesn’t work; they don’t go home. (not that this would work anyway, but aren’t ruki and shin still alive in the violet dungeon? am I wrong…? did carla kill them? whatever.) yui faints and can’t speak, so kanato moves her around like a doll. they’ll live forever in this world, then, just the two of them. it’ll be awfully quiet.

back in the real world, karl heinz is like “my friend. did u get my sons killed” and socrates is like “sowwy :( I just didnt think it was worth it to lose my best friend to some immature adam.” karl heinz says it’s ok, and socrates suggests reversing time. karl heinz is like sure, yeah, let’s reverse time and have them try again. (EXCUSE ME???? EXCUSE ME????????????? COULD U DO THAT THIS WHOLE TIME. THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING) so I guess they, uh, reverse time and try again????.?.??

#text #cl kanato

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mxlfoydraco · 1 year

Note

hey! pretty new to the fandom and I’m looking for some specific fic that I cannot find through the tags on ao3. so I’m hoping you would be the place to ask, if not no worries <3 so I’m looking for drarry fic where they are at least 30 years old. like that's it, I just really love when they're older and find each other. if you happen to to know any good ones id love to hear. hope you have a good day!

I think they are 30 and/or over 30 in these but also the cut off can be iffy so be nice to me and nod along if there's a late 20s or sth in the mix

Make Me a Headline (I Want to Be That Bold) by @dictacontrion (31k)

Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

Pocket Full of Starlights (Never Let It Fade Away) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon (46k)

When Scorpius Malfoy and Jamie Potter meet at Quidditch camp, they take an instant dislike to each other. Then they discover their lives are more connected than they could possibly imagine.

A Private Reason for This by @femmequixotic (92k)

When the wife of a star politician in the Scottish Ministry turns up dead just outside Hogsmeade, Draco Malfoy and his murder investigation team are called in from the Edinburgh Auror force to find her killer. What DCI Malfoy doesn't expect, however, is to have an ex from two decades past end up in his murder room, endangering not only his case, but also his heart.

The One You Feed by @sweet-s0rr0w (10k)

Draco's been a werewolf for almost twenty years now, and he's an expert in helping new werewolves adapt to the change. He's seen it all before - or so he thinks, until his newest client, a recently turned Harry Potter, arrives on his doorstep.

Paper Rings by @lettersbyelise (50k)

When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart. What Harry and Draco used to be is all in the past. And surely they can work together in these new, emotionally charged circumstances without falling in love all over again… can’t they?

Number Seven by sara_holmes (253k)

Harry already has small children, an ex-wife, annoying colleagues and an international crime ring to deal with. So when Draco Malfoy reappears after eight years AWOL in France, of course Harry is going to leave him well alone… Right?

Turn by Saras_Girl (306k)

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Blood and Fire by @lqtraintracks (44k)

Harry has spent the last twelve years in Romania, not returning to England as often as he knows he should. It's complicated. But when Ginny asks him to be her best man and help her plan her wedding, he can't say no. Having a reckoning with his choices, with himself, won't be easy. To say nothing of seeing Draco again.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (114k)

Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

Historians by @oknowkiss (29k)

It’s the Dumbledore’s Army Reunion Holiday, and Harry’s found himself in hot water with his friends once again, after telling them he has a boyfriend he definitely does not have. In an attempt to fix things, he’s made it his colleague on Level Nine, Draco Malfoy’s problem too. Featuring a ski chalet in Switzerland, a pair of bunk beds, and an agreement that should’ve been simple, were it not for all the bloody feelings getting in the way.

Take a Sad Song (And Make it Better) by @femmequixotic (48k)

The last thing Harry wants is to lose his kids.

Albus Getting Married by @violetclarity(6k)

Albus and Scorpius are getting married, and they’ve put Harry and Draco in charge of the reception. Which is fine with Harry. Really, it is. He’s not holding on to childhood grudges anymore...but he can’t stop thinking about that one kiss. And dating your son’s fiancé’s father is really, really not on.

The Wonder of You by @ladderofyears (72k)

A Family Man AU. In the year 2000, Harry left Draco behind in London, intent on America and Quidditch fame and never looked back. Thirteen years later, Harry gets the opportunity to see what his life could have been like, had his life unravelled in a different way. Nothing in Harry’s world is the same, but Harry soon comes to realise that fatherhood, marriage and the biggest, laziest Crup in Hogsmeade add to up a life he enjoys more than he could ever have imagined.

The Man Who Lived by @e-sebastian (253k)

Draco breaks a cup, and one thing leads to another. A story of redemption, tattoos, dreams, mistakes, green eyes, long conversations, and copious amounts of coffee.

Set in New York twelve years after the war.

Burn the Witch by @lettersbyelise (95k)

When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s.

A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

Are You Mine? series by gracerene (91k)

A trilogy of fics set in an Epilogue-Compliant Harry Potter 'Verse, with various accompanying time-stamps and one-shots. Fics are in chronological order.

*They are first together younger and then get back together later

Shibboleths by @lol-zeitgeistic (109k)

Muggle Immersion co-Professor Harry Potter spends his days hanging with his son, reading to his “dog,” teaching magical kids about the internet with his cousin Dudley, and irritating Snape’s portrait. He’s understandably annoyed when his cosy life is interrupted by the Headmistress hiring on Draco Malfoy to be Hogwarts’ new Ancient Magical Cultures and Spellcasting professor. But then the explosion happens, and it turns out they’ll all need Malfoy’s knowledge if they want the magical world to survive. The one with the scary things and Professor Dudley.

when by now and tree by leaf by @aibidil (46k)

When Scorpius Malfoy is saying goodbye to his dying mother, he doesn't expect to hear her confess, "Your father slept with another man and became pregnant with you." Grappling with his grief and his identity, Scorpius sets out to discover his other father, who it turns out has a lighting-shaped scar and no idea that Scorpius exists.

When Times are Dire by @aibidil (130k)

Magical Britain is screwed, and it’s once again up to Harry to save it. This time, by marrying Draco Malfoy.

Father of the Bride by November Snowflake (29k)

Harry’s little girl is getting married, and the identity of her chosen suitor is about to open up a world of complications—for better and for worse.

Harry Potter and the Great Cat Caper by @kbrick (78k)

Harry's lonely in the aftermath of his divorce. Except for the weekends that he has the kids, Harry's cooking gourmet meals for one in his big, empty farmhouse, with only his seven cats for company. Until, that is, Harry finds Al and Lily playing with Scorpius Malfoy in the front yard, and learns that Draco Malfoy is his closest wizarding neighbor. Oh, and also, Harry's favorite cat is stolen (multiple times!) by someone who had the audacity to put a sparkly pink collar on her, with a nametag that reads "Plumeria Seraphin Snugglybug". These things (Malfoy and the cat-snatching) may or may not be related. Featuring: a cat-loving Harry who loves to cook, has playdates with Pansy Parkinson, and tends to rap when he's wasted, and good-dad Draco Malfoy who's still a prat, albeit an irritatingly attractive and charming one. Also featuring: a slew of adorable children, a stolen cat named Stormy, copious amounts of sexual tension, divorce betting pools, amoral yet charismatic Slytherins, peeping-tom Harry, foot massages given while under the influence, Harry's first time with a bloke, and did I mention cats?

More Than That by joosetta (10k)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

Harry Potter and the elusive day off by @fuckyoupbk (71k)

Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with. Guaritore Christopher Black is an exceptional psychiatrist with a specialisation in sleep disorders. He is also Draco Malfoy in a Glamour. Minister Hermione Granger knows the dangers and the complications, but she needs her best friend back.

And, On The Other Side, A Welcoming Voice by @blamebrampton (38k)

For twenty years, the official history has told readers that Harry Potter died at the Battle of Hogwarts. The next edition is going to require some significant revisions.

Shine, Even in the Darkness by @raitala (41k)

Harry hasn’t seen Draco for over fifteen years, but now he’s showing up everywhere and Harry is sort of weirdly attracted to him, but that can’t be right?

Across the Multiverse by @hsvh-hp (108k)

Thirteen years after the war, Draco Malfoy is quite happily tucked away in the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable. When an Auror disappears through a broken Vanishing Cabinet, it presents the perfect opportunity for Draco's research to finally graduate beyond theory. Unfortunately, Harry Potter will also be along for the ride.

I Do Not Love You by Writ_and_romance (228k)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that’s essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home. In 2000, Draco had expected Pansy’s relationship with Luna to bring the Gryffindors a bit closer to his orbit of quiet, carefully pacifistic existence, but he never expected to navigate such a transparent embrace into a unit of family, friendship, and love. A mystery, two love stories, and a reminder that learning to love never has an end date.

The Strongest Affinity by @eidheann (17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined. Career Choices: Harry: Wandmaker; Draco: Single Father/Hermit

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by @writcraft (63k)

Harry has terrific friends, an amazing girlfriend and his job as Head Auror enables him to work on challenging cases and Ministry reform. He just wishes he could work out why he’s been so out of sorts. When Draco Malfoy is arrested for gross indecency, Harry’s comfortable life begins to unravel. He’s forced to decide if it’s worth risking everything for love in a world where following his heart is a criminal offence.

The Kisses Don’t Count, If No One Else Knows by oldenuf2nb (41k)

Minister for Magic Harry Potter does not love his job. The one bright point in his life is his secret relationship with Quidditch Super Star Draco Malfoy. When they're 'outed' by a peeping tom with a camera, Harry has to decide what's really important.

The Stars Have Courage by @fantalfart (85k)

Draco waited five long years to watch his husband wake up from a coma. He's not ready to meet a Harry with no memory of anything that happened after he died at The Battle of Hogwarts, twelve years ago.

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship (135k)

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals. Except Head Auror Potter is everywhere — in Draco’s chair, at his door, in his dreams. All six feet of motorbike-riding, combat-boot-wearing, sex-hair-sporting Saviour of the World packed into one unfairly fetching uniform. Potter won’t leave Draco the bloody hell alone, won’t let him breathe, let him forget, let him sleep. Because no matter how fast Draco Malfoy runs, Harry Potter is always hot on his heels.

#drarry #drarry fic rec #drarry fic recs #drarry reclist #30 and over #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry recs #drarry fic

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moonknightly · 1 year

Text

do i really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? pt 2

santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales

word count: 3.8k+

warnings: this is nothing but filth omfg. p in v sex, dom/sub dynamics, pain kink, spanking, infidelity but it’s sort of resolved, cuckold!frankie, mentions of m/m sex, sloppy blowjobs, choking

excerpt: “God she fucking likes it ‘Fish,” Santi whines, his pace quickening just a bit, the way you’re gripping his dick pushing him closer and closer to his end and you’re sitting right on top of your own. “Fucking likes the idea of her boys being horny fucking messes for eachother.”

[ part one ]

Frankie takes a sip from his cold coffee, tongue darting out to lick his lips afterwards. He glances at you but other than that, doesn’t acknowledge you, doesn’t acknowledge that you’ve said his name. He sighs softly and leans back in his chair, folds his arms across his chest. The look on his face reminds you of a disappointed parent and the shame it brings to your chest is familiar too.

He’s calm. Calmer than he should be. Calmer than you hoped he would be. Already, you want him to get angry. You want him to scream at you, slam the door on his way out, do something that will make this easy because you know how this goes. You know how this ends. You decided it, locked it into place the moment you stayed in Santi’s bed.

When Frankie finally speaks, his voice is even and collected and your heart sinks because you quickly realize you’re not going to get the easy way out. He’s not mad.

“How long?”

He sounds almost curious, like he’d been expecting it and wants to see how long his suspicions had been correct. You think that’s fair. You think you’re right when you tell him it started two weeks after Santi made it home and he only nods, letting another run of silence settle over you before he finds his voice again.

“You couldn’t have just told me?”

You flinch, because obviously, you know that’s what you should have done. You should’ve been honest, saved the drama for another time, let Frankie go so he could heal instead of adding “my girlfriend cheated on me with her ex who also happens to be my best friend” to his arsenal of traumas.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Truthfully, you didn’t. When you’d learned that Santi was home, you’d had no intention of falling back into him and honestly, you don’t remember how it happened. You’d done such a good job of avoiding him considering the boys were your best friends too and you were dating one of them, but all he’d had to do was send one text and that same night you were underneath him, re-acquainting yourself with his hands and his mouth and his body.

Frankie shrugs and again, you’re hit with the inkling that he’s known the whole time.

“That doesn’t mean you keep it from me.”

“I know.”

More silence. More coffee. He sighs again and finally sets the mug down.

“Are you guys just fucking?”

You don’t really know how to answer that. It’s too fucking complicated, too much.

“We were.”

Frankie blinks, eyebrows furrowing and for a moment you think you’re going to get that anger you so desperately want from him but it never comes, never boils.

“So you still love him,” he says instead. It’s not a question, it’s not accusatory either. It’s just a fact, a statement. Something that clearly makes it all make sense in his head so you just nod and he grimaces, but you wonder if maybe you’d imagined it because his expression is neutral again in seconds.

“It was always going to be you and Santi,” he shrugs, like he’d accepted it long ago, like even though you were with him he knew it wasn’t endgame. “Ask fuckin’ anyone and they’ll tell you. We knew he’d come back and you wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

You bite your lip, not sure you want to know the answer to the question you’re about to ask. “So why did you date me then? If everyone thought Santi and I would find eachother again.”

Frankie shrugs again, taking another sip of his coffee, whether he was actually craving it or just trying to buy himself some time to think you didn’t know.

“I think we both needed someone when he left,” he mumbles finally—you knew Santi leaving had hurt Frankie too, left him bruised. “Someone gentle and kind and someone who reminded us of him.”

You hate that he’s probably right. But-

“I did love you. I do. I always have.”

This time, Frankie does grimace, and there’s a flash of hurt in his eyes but again, it quickly vanishes. “I know you do. Just not the way you love him.”

That was true. The way you loved Frankie was pure and sweet. It was daffodils and sunrises and making wishes on shooting stars and cotton candy melting on your tongue. It was gentle kisses on your cheeks and matching pajamas on Christmas Eve. It was the kind of love you dreamed about when you were thirteen.

It was easy.

But loving Santiago was too.

It was different, of course it was. It was ragged breaths and fire scorching your lungs. It was screaming matches and thorns digging into your hips like his fingertips and midnights spent with his head between your thighs as his tongue spelled out an apology you didn’t need. It was thunderstorms, hurricanes even. It was the kind of love people warned you about but every single second was worth it.

Loving Santiago will always be so entirely worth it because he’s yours and you are his and nothing else matters when he kisses you with all of the desperation in the world. He’s your safety, your shelter from the hurricane, the water that extinguishes the fire in your chest.

So Frankie’s right. You don’t love him like you love Santi. But-

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

He knows that. You know he does.

“You were what I needed when he left just like I was what you needed. And that’s okay.”

He knows that too, and this time he sighs in acknowledgement, finally pushing his coffee cup away. You’re expecting him to leave, to mumble something about needing a little time but he’d see you both again soon for a night out or whatever because even though neither of you said it, your friendships, the bond the three of you had created with one another wasn’t worth losing. But that’s not what happened at all.

“Call him. Get him over here.”

You’re taken by surprise, to say the least. “Why?”

“Because,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “I want to see what he has that I don’t.”

“Frankie-” you start, because it’s not a competition but he gives you a look that instantly silences you.

“Do it. Or I will.”

You pull out your phone and comply. Santi answers on the first ring.

“Hey, did you get home okay? You never texted-”

“Frankie wants you to come over.”

He stops, and you’re pretty sure he’s holding his breath. It takes him a few seconds to recover before he’s able to speak again.

“Is he pissed?”

“No,” you say truthfully, shaking your head even though he can’t see. “He just…um,” you mumblem not entirely sure how to say what he wants. You aren’t even sure what he wants. “Just come over. Please Santi?”

You don’t have to ask him twice, you never do. You can hear his keys jingling in the background as he makes his way out to his car.

And when he gets there, he honestly looks like he’s about to vomit all over your floors. Frankie hasn’t said anything else, and you’re still as confused as you had been before. You still don’t know what Frankie had meant.

“Hey ‘Fish,” Santi mumbles, unable to stop himself from glancing around the apartment that had once been his too, and you watched as he made a mental note of what all had changed but how majority of it was all still the same as the day he’d packed his shit and left.

“Hey Pope,” Frankie says, crossing his arms over his chest, letting the room fall into an uncomfortable silence that seems to drag and drag.

It lasts so long, and yet neither you nor Santi has the courage to break it, to ask why Frankie wanted him there or what his earlier words met. The anxiety in the pit of your stomach grows, and you think you’re on the verge of an anxiety attack but finally, Frankie ends your suffering.

“You’ve been fucking her behind my back.” He says it so plainly, it actually makes Santi gulp because like you, he’s waiting for that anger that he knows he deserves.

“Frankie-”

“You didn’t have the balls to tell me,” he continues, his voice still eerily calm and collected, only a hint of annoyance, if anything, detectable in his tone.

“Look, just-”

He still doesn’t let Santi finish. “She might’ve been yours first but she’s been mine for the last three years.”

Now you think Santi is going to explode, show that anger your brain has been anticipating because-

“She was still mine. She’s always been mine. Just because you put your dick in her-”

You rolled your eyes, refraining from reminding him that you were standing right there and once again, Frankie doesn’t let him get a complete sentence out.

“Prove it,” he says simply, folding his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair. “Show me.”

Santi’s jaw falls slack for a moment while he processes the other man’s request, and honestly? You’re just as dumbfounded. You hadn’t been expecting this, out of all of the possible meanings behind his cryptic words it just didn’t cross your mind.

“You want me to prove it?” Santi asks, like he’s trying to make sure he heard him right.

Frankie nods. “Unless you don’t think you can.”

Santiago has a competitive streak. Everyone knows it. Frankie knew that’s all it would take to get what he wants.

And so Santi grabs your hand and leads you down the hall to your bedroom, and this time he doesn’t stop to survey the space, to see what’s old and what's new.

He stops at the end of the bed and pulls you to him. You brace yourself against his chest, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, your heart pounding and you’re pretty sure he can feel it. He tilts his head, silently asking if you’re okay with what’s about to happen and you nod immediately, your eyes flickering down to his lips, lingering there. He takes that as his cue to kiss you, his lips maybe just a little frantic but it’s still familiar, they’re still the same lips you’d kissed an hour ago when you’d left his place.

Had it really only been an hour? Less than? Just over? You’re not sure, and it doesn’t matter, because per usual nothing else matters when Santi is kissing you.

You hear Frankie’s boots against the hardwood floors, and without opening your eyes you know he’s leaning against your dresser, and you can imagine that his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pursed. You steal a glance as Santi slides his tongue into your mouth and you’re right.

Santiago tugs on the hem of your shirt and you automatically lift your arms, letting him pull it off of your body. He tosses it off to the side and then pushes you down onto the bed, grabbing your hips and pulling you to the edge, tugging your leggings down and discarding them as well. He looks down at you, dark brown eyes nearly black, one hand moving to undo his belt while the other rubs at his stubble.

“What do you think babe?” he purrs, voice so smooth yet laced with lust and desire and God, his tone shoots right between your legs, pulsating. “Should we show ‘Fish how you suck my cock?”

You answer him by sliding onto the floor, using his thighs to steady yourself, your eyes never leaving his. His lips are parted, just barely, eyes a little lidded—he looks drunk off you already and you hadn't even touched him.

He pulls his belt through the loops on his jeans with one hand, letting it hang at his side for a moment before he drops it to the floor with a soft clink. He undoes his jeans, pulls down the zipper, and pulls his cock from his boxers, stroking himself while he continues to peer down at you, eager and waiting and ready.

But you don’t touch him until you have permission. You never do.

He taps the head of his dick against your cheek, silently telling you to open your mouth and take him and you do. You wrap your lips around his length and suck gently, swirling your tongue around his tip. Santi lets the smallest moan slip past his lips, one hand moving to rest in your hair but he lets you keep control of your movements for the time being. You take him deeper and his grip tightens but-

“I know you can do better than that kid,” he chuckles, tilting his head to the side. “I know you can take all of me, can’t you? Right down that pretty lil throat.”

You moan in response, sucking harder, pushing yourself another inch down his length—you can take all of him, you have so many times before but you like to pretend to struggle because then he makes you.

And he does. He uses your hair to pull you forward, until your nose is touching his skin and you have to swallow around his dick to make him fit. Your pussy clenches and you whimper, eyes fluttering shut as you start to drool. Frankie doesn’t panic, doesn’t tell Santi to go easy on you because he knows you like it rough and even so, he wouldn’t interrupt. He wanted to see what Santi had after all.

Santiago finally pulls you off of his cock and you gasp, sucking in a sharp breath that makes your lungs burn in such a delicious way. There’s a string of spit connecting you to him until it breaks a second or two later, falling onto your exposed chest. Santi collects it with his fingers before shoving them into your mouth, fucking your throat with his fingers until your gags become too real. He smacks your cheek with his cock again before lining up with your lips again.

“Come on. Try again.”

This time, your pace is quick and fast as you bob your head, taking most if not all of him each time you sink down. You suck him harshly, the sounds coming from your throat making his hips tilt forward on their own accord, his own noises making your clit fucking throb because he always sounds so fucking pretty when he’s getting his cock sucked.

“Haven’t heard those sounds since deployment,” Frankie mumbles, and you almost don’t hear him but Santi definitely does, a breathless laugh replacing his moans.

“You never sucked my cock as good as she does ‘Fish.”

“Neither did you.”

You fucking cry around Santi, the flash images running through your mind making you ache. You readjust, trying to relieve some of the pressure between your legs. Santi notices, of course he does.

“Aw honey,” he coos, his voice borderline condescending. “Do you like that baby? Thinking about him on his knees for me? Fuck, he never could take all of me like you can.”

“She’s thinking about me you fuckin’-”

“She’s thinking about both of us,” Santi interrupts, tilting his head. “Being so fucking desperate in the middle of the desert. Getting each other off so we didn’t fucking kill each other from how fucking frustrated we were.”

You cry again, trying to clench your thighs together. Santi pulls out of your mouth again, his hand moving to fist his cock, to keep himself hard as he regards you intently for a long moment as you struggle to regain your breath and composure.

“Take your bra off and hand Frankie your panties honey.”

You flush immediately but do as you’re told, tossing your bra off to the side and standing to slide your underwear off before Santi stops you with nothing more than a hard gaze.

“Hands and knees baby. Crawl to him.”

You whimper at his command but again, you do as you’re told. You work your underwear off your legs and for good measure, you shove them into your mouth before crawling towards the other man. His eyes are nearly black as he watches you move closer, and you can feel Santi’s eyes watching your every fucking move. You drop the panties at his feet before quickly crawling back to Santiago.

He lifts you up, tossing you onto the bed. You fall back onto your hands and knees, chest and head flat against the mattress almost instantly because you know that’s how he wants you. He pulls you to the edge again and sinks himself into your sopping cunt—he knows you’re ready for him, knows you can take him, knows you kind of like the burn and the stretch that comes with no prep or a moment to adjust.

You gasp as he bottoms out. Santi starts off quick and hard, pounding into you with little regard to whether it actually feels good for you or not but he knows it fucking does. He knows your body so well, he knows the discomfort and the pain makes your clit throb even when he knocks the breath out of your lungs and it takes you a moment to moan to confirm.

“That’s it,” he groans, tilting his head back, his hands gripping your hips. “There we go baby, just take it. That’s it.”

His hips are smacking against your ass, driving him to fuck you harder because he fucking loves that sound. He loves your whimpers and your cries and the squelching sound your cunt makes as you take him, the sound of the bed creaking under the force of his thrusts, the headboard hitting the wall. He fucking loves the sound of sex but the reason he loves it is because it’s sex with you.

He starts using your hips to pull you back to meet his thrusts, his eyes watching where he disappears inside of you. Your eyes are in the back of your skull and you’re gripping the duvet loosely because your body feels like fucking jello. Frankie has his hands in his pockets, trying so hard not to touch himself but failing miserably.

Santiago must have eyes in the back of his head, because he seems to know. “Come on Frankie,” he grunts, smacking your ass once. “Pull your cock out and let her watch.”

You realize his spank was him telling you to open your eyes and look at Frankie, so you do, your cheeks turning hot as you watch him push his jeans down midthigh even though you’ve seen him naked so many times before.

“What do you think honey?” Santi coos, folding himself over your body to whisper in your ear, lips brushing your skin. “Do you think he’s hard for you? Or for me?”

Frankie growls, getting ready to throw back some snarky remark at Santiago but your high pitched moan stops him.

“I don’t know who he’s more jealous of,” Santi continued, chuckling, throwing a devilish smirk in Frankie’s direction but his eyes are back on you almost immediately. “I don’t know if he’d rather be fucking you or getting fucked by me.”

This time, Frankie does get a few words in. “Funny. I was always the one fucking you Pope.”

Santi ignores him but curses when you clench around him—you didn’t know they ever slept together, ever fooled around and this new revelation is doing things to your body that’s almost too much to handle.

“God she fucking likes it ‘Fish,” Santi whines, his pace quickening just a bit, the way you’re gripping his dick pushing him closer and closer to his end and you’re sitting right on top of your own. “Fucking likes the idea of her boys being horny fucking messes for eachother.”

He reaches around your body to pull and tug and rub at your clit, his fingers immediately giving you that last little shove, your orgasm hitting so hard all you see is black and stars and your hearing fades out, but you can still hear Santi’s curses and moans and you can feel his come leaking down the inside of your thigh when he lets go, or maybe you’re just that fucking drenched, you’re dripping all over yourself.

Santiago bites into your shoulder to stifle his moan that wants to become a scream, his eyes screwed tightly shut while he works you both through your highs, his sole focus on you once again, even as the other man in the room comes all over his hand at the sight of the two people he cares about most falling apart at each other's touch, right in front of his eyes.

After he cleans himself up, Frankie stays to watch Santi take care of you because “approving” the aftercare is just as important to him as seeing Santiago fuck you silly.

Santi washes away the result of your orgasm with a warm cloth, his touch gentle and soft, a full glass of water on the bedside table ready for you. He guides you up so you can take a sip, hooking his arms under your legs and shoulders so he can position you against the pillows. Your eyes are locked on him, never straying, and Santi only looks away when he has to. Only you two exist in that moment and Frankie thinks that's fine. It’s sort of beautiful.

But he’s not needed here. Not now.

So he zips his jeans back up and tries to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest or the sinking feeling in his stomach, ready to head out to his truck and give you two the space you need until things cool down and you’re ready to meet up with him for a late night drink at a shitty bar downtown but he doesn’t even make it into the hallway before you’re softly calling his name.

He glances over his shoulder, cheeks turning pink when he notices that you’re both looking at him. You just scoot into the middle of your bed, letting Santi take the side that was once his, smiling because he falls down so naturally, and you leave your usual side open for Frankie, silently begging him to accept your invitation and come closer.

Frankie hesitates, for just a few seconds, not entirely sure whether or not it’s a good idea but his desire to be held by you just one more time outweighs everything else. He shuffles back to the bed and kicks off his boots, slipping in beside you. He feels Santi’s hand fall to his shoulder not a moment later while you get yourself comfortable between them, and it feels normal. It feels so entirely normal.

None of you are sure if it can last, but you relish in it while you can.

#santi garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #oscar isaac #pedro pascal

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dreamingofyeo · 4 months

Text

𓏲๋࣭ ࣪ A siren's song࿐࿔𖦹ִ

chapter 4: artefacts of decay ࿐࿔𖦹ִ

~ details in masterlist

~ playlist

~ 832 words

~ chapter warnings- none

~☆彡 tumblr's algorithm works off of reblogs so please consider it if you like my work :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Escape? With Yeosang? This has to be a ploy. You raise a tentative brow at him.

“Why would you extend your plan to include me, that doesn’t seem wise.”

He nods thoughtfully and shuffles closer to you, his voice more hushed than before.

“You’re right, it makes it more complicated. But I can’t have it on my conscience that you’ll be alone here.”

“You’ve known me for less than a day.” You state bluntly.

“Right again, but time shouldn't tip a moral scale now should it?” He smiles.

You look at him in confusion, how is this man a pirate. It doesn’t make any sense.

“I don’t understand you, you speak of morals and yet underneath it all you’re still a pirate.”

He dips his head almost shamefully.

“Upon this ship, I understand greatly where this confusion comes from. Though we all still have our darknesses, my crew are not ruthless killers such as these. We have a cause and codes.”

“What are they like?” You find yourself asking.

“When they need to be, dangerous, tactical and cunning. But under all that they’re each in their own way a source for good in this world. They’re funny and kind, loyal to a fault...”

He trails off momentarily.

“my point is, regardless of everything, bringing you with me off this ship is the right thing to do, if I don’t I might as well stay. Nothing more to it than that.”

Right. So he’s just maybe got a minor saviour complex. A way out is a way out though.

“So, this plan… what is it?” You ask.

“When the ship next docks in Tortuga, I have a favour to call in, we’ll use that to get away.”

“A favour? From whom?”

“An old friend.” He says bluntly.

“Right, and when will the ship next dock.”

“Truthfully, I have no idea, not for a couple of weeks at least given our position, the captain hasn’t given any indication of our next heading but it will be soon now that you’re here.”

Right, there’s a purpose for your being here. You almost forgot. Taking the opportunity, you ask him about it.

“And why am I here exactly? What is all this talk about me remaining unspoiled?”

Yeosang sucks in a breath and looks troubled to answer you, he does so anyway.

“There’s an ancient treasure that Vervona has had his sights on for years, decades even. He’s slowly been ticking boxes of the things he needs to acquire it, various priceless artefacts from all over the map. But each one has came at a cost to his soul. It drove him mad, abandoned his own moral code as the years went on. He became more ruthless, with every conquest becoming more barbaric than the last; drove his own son off the ship eventually. Now he’s almost got all the pieces- well technically he’s already got them but like I say, I don’t plan on either of us sticking around here to keep it that way.”

“Okay.. but I’m afraid that doesn’t answer my question, what does he want from me?”

He meets your eyes tentatively.

“To put it simply, your blood.”

The very thing he speaks of runs cold yet again, it unnerves you that you’re growing accustomed to the uncomfortable feeling.

“My.. blood?”

You’ve heard plenty of sea legends, the pieces click into place. Vervona is searching for the cromer, a mysterious artefact rumoured to hold the power of time itself, and he needs ‘unspoiled’ blood from someone of your lineage to do it. You should’ve known your family’s secrets would come back to you eventually. Broner seemed in the dark about your identity, the attack seemed random, you wonder just how in the dark he keeps his crew. You also wonder how much more there is to Yeosang than meets the eye, a navigator is certainly not on the list of acquisitions required to locate the cromer, so why is he here? Your train of thought is broken by the man in question.

“I’ll take your silence as agreement to escape.”

You eye him with suspicion now.

“I’m in.”

The following days pass by in a blur. You do your best to avoid any and all interaction with the crew when you collect your breakfast. That being stale bread and some watery alcohol concoction which made you gag- drawing a slight chuckle from the navigator and earning himself a scowl right back.

Throughout the days, you keep your head low, doing whatever bits of navigation you can with Yeosang until dinner- stale bread and alcohol. Yeosang redresses your lashes when the crew goes to sleep, and you discuss your plans.

It’s on the sixth day that he gives you an excited look after checking the lanterns were dim.

“Oh jones~” he drags out the ’s’ making you raise a brow.

“What’s got you all happy? They give you a drop too much at dinner?” You smirk at him.

He snorts at you and laughs.

“Speak for yourself. Even if I had though, we have something to celebrate.”

Another eyebrow raise.

“That being?”

He plants his hands on the table, tapping a spot on map in front of you. He smiles and tugs his lip between his teeth for a moment before gracing you with an answer.

“Our new heading, Tortuga.”

<-chapter 3 ~ chapter 5->

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taglist: @baek-at-it-again95 @amalialoved @voicesinmyhead-rc @decadentstrangernacho

#ateez fanfic #ateez yeosang #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #ateez hongjoong #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez wooyoung #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #ateez pirate au #yeosang pirate au #asirenssong #dreamingofyeo #yeosang x reader #ateez x you

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siconetribal · 1 year

Text

Put It On My Tab: Chapter 7

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning: Jason is in BIG trouble now, Y/N has decided on who she is strangling, Gotham's greatest detectives at work, RIP mop

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, here is a link to the other parts:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Citlalli noticed the slight droop in her friend’s shoulders. She looked defeated, something rare and it hurt. There was no time to comfort her though, the line of customers growing. The two of them ran back and forth between the register and machines, cranking out the orders as best they could. Jason’s name was one of the first few called, so he made his way over to the pick up station and grabbed the complicated order topped with whip cream and colored foam. Wrinkling his nose at it, he called out a small thanks before making his way back to his seat. The gazes of the other customers hardly bothered him. He was used to being looked at, either out of attraction as Jason Todd or fear as the infamous Red Hood.

Where do I find IAmBatman? She logs in at night at that lounge, but who knows what time she’ll actually get there? I have to go out on patrol tonight too. Even if I was free, what’s my plan? Sit here all day drinking coffee until they close? I didn’t bring my laptop, I can’t log in myself to see when she logs in. There’s no way I’m sitting in that lounge all day! I game, but I’m not going to sit there like some creepy stalker loser jumping at the chime of the door. They’d call the cops on me for sure. He glared at his cup, slowly turning it in place. There had to be something he could do. Something he was missing. It has to be right in front of me, I’m just not seeing it. He sighed, ruffling the front of his hair before taking another sip. “I hate to say it, but I should probably ask Grayson for some advice. He came up with the IP idea and that at least got me closer.” He muttered and slouched in his seat. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes for a brief moment to shut out the world around him. You’re one step closer, Todd, one step closer. Even if I did see her, what did I plan on doing or saying? I’ll come back on a night when I'm free.

Finishing the last of his drink, he tossed the cup and grabbed the two others. He gave a small wave to Citlalli and a nod to Y/N on his way out, thanking them again. The two responded in unison to his gratitude as they continued to crank out the orders. When there was much wanted lull in customers, the two flopped onto their stools and let out a heavy sigh of relief and exhaustion. Midway through the rush, two other employees had clocked in and came to their rescue.

“Damn, we should’ve paid attention to the time. I didn’t realize it was time for the school to let out! Ai, my poor, poor feet!” Citlalli rolled her ankles.

“We should have some sort of alarm system set up that goes off every Monday to Friday that warns of the teenie bopper tidal wave.” Y/N rubbed her lower back. In all the running back and forth, she had nearly slipped more times than she could count, but there was no time to stop. If there was even one complaint and it just so happened to reach their boss, she shuddered at the thought. I’d never hear the end of it! We’d been stuck here until our next shift!

“You think Mr. B would let us?”

“Doubt it,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “It’d cramp the aesthetic,” she emphasized with air quotes. “Not like we’d have some blaring five alarm bell that would freak the customers out. It’d be something for us back here so we aren’t caught off guard by so many orders at once.”

“Not to mention those stupid mobile orders, custom orders, and don’t even get me started on those bullshit “top secret” menu orders that all those de mierda influencers go on and on about online!” Citlalli fumed, once again falling into rapid Spanish as she cursed the bloggers, vloggers, and internet gurus for coming up with the crazy concoctions that sounded horrendously disgusting at times.

“I know, Cici, I know.” Y/N handed her a glass of cold water to help distract her from the thought. If there was one thing Citlalli hated, it was the obnoxious younger generation that thought the world owed them. She could easily go on for hours about the overly privileged rich kids that were taking over and how ungrateful and undisciplined they were, demanding things to be done right away and perfectly perfect every time. Y/N was no fan of the snobby majority either, but these brats were what paid the bills. If these caffeine addicted wannabe famous elites were what kept the water running, she would just put up with the convoluted orders. Especially now that I have that 4k bill on top of it all. She sighed again. How many tortuous and agonizing drinks would it take to finally start making a dent in that bill?

“Oh, you actually got it! You know, for all your tough guy “I’m not mister nice guy”, you do nice things quite often.” Barbara grinned at his eyebrow twitching in response. “Am I wrong?” She raised one of her own eyebrows before tipping the fancy beverage in his direction as a thanks before leaving the room with a sense of victory while Jason stood there grumbling and muttering under his breath.

“I’m not a nice guy,” he insisted to himself.

“Of course, Master Jason, there is nothing nice about standing in one’s way while they are trying to enter the room.” Alfred’s voice caught him by surprise. It was no surprise that Alfred was a highly capable individual, but to be able to sneak up on any of them and so consistently was unheard of. Not for Alfred Pennyworth.

“Sorry Alfred,” he lightly shook his head and stepped aside.

“Not at all, though there must be something more on your mind to be unable to hear me call for you so many times.” The famous Wayne butler walked into the room, going about his usual tasks.

“Ah, nothing that important.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just some dumb shit. Is Grayson home?”

“Master Richard,” Alfred stopped what he was doing and stared at Jason with the same unreadable expression he always had. “Master Richard stepped out for the moment, I am not certain when he will be returning, but he did state that he would be in time for dinner. Shall I set your place for dinner tonight?” Jason’s initial reaction was to refuse, but he hesitated. He really needed to speak with Dick, and this was the only way to assure that he at least got a hold of the older Robin somehow.

“Yeah, why not? I didn’t have any plans set or food anyway. Thanks, Alfred,” Jason nodded his head.

“But of course, Master Jason. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure the right number of seats are prepared.” He lightly bowed his head before exiting the room before Jason. The infamous Red Hood let out a heavy sigh, tousling his hair. This was becoming more and more of a handful with each passing day.

But I’ll get it done, dammit! I’m fucking Red Hood! I track down and capture the most notorious and difficult to capture villains on the daily! Finding one average civilian should not be this difficult!

It was now a proven fact. There was not a single shred of doubt left in Y/N’s mind. That tall, dark, and handsome stranger was a walking debt machine. A walking, talking withdrawal demon in human skin that was sent from the deepest pits of financial hell to make sure she would never see light outside the slums of Gotham. Satan, himself, must be cringing in sympathy at this cruel and unusual torture she was being put through. What made her so sure? Well, a certain cleaning instrument had been sacrificed in the urgent need to warn Citlalli and their boss, who was due to come in today, had become aware of said hecatomb. He was not pleased with this unscheduled offering, and the bill for its replacement would be removed from her paycheck.

I’m going to kill him. This is going on his tab, I’m going to make him pay me back for said dues, and then I’m going to wring his neck until I’m satisfied! She imagined her fingers wrapping around his throat, it would obviously require both from how strong it looked; and shook him violently as his face slowly drained of any color as he begged for her forgiveness.

Citlalli saw the malicious smile that curled on her best friend’s lips and noted how it was creeping out the customers. Not wanting her to get in any more trouble, she firmly slapped her on the back. “Get it together, chica! You’re still on the clock and your batshit crazy look is going to get them complaining to the slave driver!” She hissed in her ear, snapping Y/N out of her little daze.

“Owww, didn’t have to hit me that hard.” She scowled in response, attempting to rub the spot, but of course it was just out of reach for her to self soothe. Just my luck, she glared at her best friend one last time before taking the next ticket. She carefully crafted the complex drink, triple checking the instructions to make sure she had it right before bring it to the pickup counter. “Large iced matcha latte with oat milk, brown sugar, white mocha, and strawberry purée in the sweet cream cold foam for…Paizleigh.” Y/N stared at the order and the customer’s name for a moment. Yup and nope, she looked up at those lingering nearby. “Large iced matcha latte with oat milk for Paizleigh.” She called again before placing the cup down in the area marked for O to R names.

“Hey, is that my drink?” A male customer walked up to the counter.

“This is a large iced matcha latte with oat milk for Paizleigh.” She repeated the information and watched as the gears turned in the teenager’s head. Oh boy, not today. Please, not today!

“OK, but is it mine?” And there was the million-dollar question.

“Is your name Paizleigh?” She asked.

“Uh, no,” he scoffed.

“Then how could it possibly be yours? Are the ears on your head just for show? Did you not just hear me when I said, for the third time, expressly to you, that it’s for someone named Paizleigh?”

“Woah, I was just asking-,”

“Just asking one of the stupidest questions you could ever be asking right now because I literally called this drink out three times, and you know your name is not Paizleigh! Better yet, what was your order, hm? Was it even anywhere close to as complex as this one?”

“Uh, I uh, I just order a medium hot coffee with cream and sugar.”

“Like I thought, nowhere near this,” she pointed to the long ticket sticker with detailed instructions on how to layer all add-ons. “Now that we’ve established just how stupid you are, and I’ve wasted enough time on this, shut up and get back in line until we call your name, which is?”

“So, is it my drink?” The sudden question shattered the little daydream where Y/N was forced to grit her teeth and smile. She let out a heavy sigh. If only she could be so bold. But alas, that would be the day she really wanted to lose this job, which was better than some others she has had.

“What’s your name again?”

“Kevin,” her eyebrow twitched.

“Right, Kevin, this drink is for Paizleigh. So, no, it is not your drink. I’m sure one of the other baristas are working on it right now, and it’ll be out shortly. Thank you for your patience.” She forced herself to let go of the cup before she ended up crushing it, and turned to pull her next ticket. And look at that, the golden Kevin ticket. This is all skunk head’s doing, he’s the living embodiment of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, but just for me.

The quiet dinner that Jason had hoped for was dashed with all the children present with Bruce. It was not unheard of to have dinner as a whole family, but it was pretty uncommon since someone was always busy, namely him. And the one time he decided to show up voluntarily is clearly the day everyone made sure to attend. If this was intentional to spend time, it was heartwarming, but the annoyance easily outweighed the small warm and fuzzy feeling.

I needed to talk to Grayson about the girl, but fucking everyone and their father showed up! Literally our father! He growled in annoyance, beating out his frustration into the crook he caught harassing some pedestrians. At least there are idiots out and active today, I need to vent. He dragged the now unconscious body to a place where the police would spot it before disappearing into the shadows once more. Sitting up on the ledge of his favorite building, Red Hood looked at Magnus. “I know, I know, I need to get it done! It ain’t easy!” It was easier said than done. Since that dinner a few weeks back, it was nearly impossible to find time alone to meet with the first Robin.

“Talking to Mildred again? Are you sure you don’t need to see someone about that?” Nightwing chuckled, appearing from behind the gargoyle.

“The name is Magnus, get it right.”

“Woah, there, I didn’t mean to offend!” The blue crusader put his hands up in surrender. “So, how’d it go?” He grinned, taking a seat beside his younger brother.

“Horrible,” he bluntly answered. “That IP address led me to a gaming lounge! How the hell am I supposed to find her in the middle of the day when she games at night?”

“Seriously, damn, did not see that coming.” The elder Robin muttered, resting his chine on his hand as he considered this new information. “She could be coming into town from anywhere and if she’s really big on gaming, she might be willing to go the extra mile of traveling a longer distance just to play.”

“That just takes me back to fucking square one all over again! I’ll have to stake out the place on a night we’re supposed to game just to see who comes and goes.” Red Hood hung his head.

“You just might have to, that sucks. I was certain the IP address would’ve been a hit! Who knew she was using a gaming lounge.” Nightwing shook his head, feeling sympathetic for his younger brother, when some commotion down below caught their attention. They quickly jumped into action, fighting the criminals that were robbing the jewelry store below.

“Yeah, who would’ve thought they’d have such a place here. I’m surprised it hasn’t been hit by thieves yet. Though, it looks like they’re trying to spruce the place up a bit.” He grunted as he took a hit and swing at his assailant, knocking him flat onto his feet.

“Yeah, there’s been quite a bit of that going on with the new people in office. Can’t say it won’t get dirty.” Nightwing responded as he dodged a hit and landed a kick.“Does it ever stay clean?�� Red Hood scoffed. “At least there’s a decent coffee shop where I can keep an eye on the place from. By the way, they’ve got some real interesting staff there. This one employee was really,” Red Hood was cut off by a rather big guy tackling him into the brick wall. The sudden blow jolted his memory a bit, and his mind quickly connected two very obvious dots. Holy shit, she was the barista at the counter!

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runwithwolvcs · 10 months

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Right Where You Left Me

Hold Me Down

I’ve never been more thankful for a spare class, even though I know it was given to me out of pity. It gives me time to catch up on the school work I’ve been slacking on between being in the hospital and all these incessant nightmares.

Though today, I have spent it daydreaming. It's been nearly a week since I’ve seen Paul and it is starting to take a toll on me mentally.

Kim had said there had been issues over the weekend and I still haven't heard from him, nor has he been home.

I spot the one person I’ve been meaning to talk to walk out of the science building and know that now would be the best time, considering I’ve got no wolves hovering around me to piss her off.

“Leah, wait!” I call after her, leaving my belongings behind to chase after her.

The older woman turned back with a look of annoyance, “What do you want?”

“I just thought maybe we could catch up, it's been a while.” I say softly.

Leah shifts her weight from one foot to the other, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “Have you finally come to your senses?”

“About what?” I furrow my brows.

“Don’t act stupid. About Sam!” Leah snapped at me, “You’re one of them now! My mom told me Paul wouldn’t even leave your side when you were in the hospital, she said it was cute.”

She spit out the word cute as if it were the most disgusting thing she had heard, before continuing her rant, “By the way, a dog attack? Everyone else may have bought that, but I’m not.”

I folded my arms across my chest, this was not the way I wanted this conversation to go. Leah and I never fight, but I’m not going to let her spew hate about Paul, or the rest of the pack for that matter, “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should’ve taken my advice and just left him alone. Now look at you, lying for him!” She practically shouted at me.

“I’m not lying!” I said, matching her energy, “You don’t know him like you think you do.”

“No, but I know you. You’re too empathetic.” Leah said, scrunching her nose up. I frown at her judgement. She wasn't complaining about my empathy when I was the shoulder she was crying on about Sam.

“What? Do you want me to be more like you?” I shot back, adding, “At least I can forgive people when they deserve it.”

Leahs jaw dropped, “You think Sam deserves it? Fuck you.”

“I’m not talking about Sam! I could care less if you forgive him.” I rolled my eyes. Sam was complicated, I know that now. Between turning into a giant wolf, and imprinting on Emily, it was a recipe for disaster. I don’t agree with him just straight up ignoring Leah, and getting Paul to do the same to me, but I’m sure being the alpha of a pack with no one to guide him, is a stressful job.

“Then who?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips in an annoyed stance.

“Me!” I nearly shouted, “I used to be able to talk to you about anything, I still want to! But you’re pushing your hatred for Sam onto me. It’s not fair.”

“You ditched me for him.” Leah accused and now it was my turn for my jaw to drop. I hadn’t been around, sure, but I was still figuring things out with Paul and then the whole hospital situation didn’t leave really any room for time with Leah, but she never even messaged me. I would have responded, I always do.

“I didn’t, I never would. It’s just complicated because of Paul, but I think you would like him if you got to know him. The way I know him.” I tried to explain, but Leah just scoffed. The onslaught of tears was coming, I could feel them. I felt like I was breaking up with my best friend. This hurt more than Tessa dropping me because of the gang rumor, which, now that I’ve thought about it, she probably had a hand in spreading.

Leah sneered, “Fat chance of that happening. I’m not running in that crowd.”

I nod, wiping the first tear to fall. There was no use in arguing with her. Leah was as stubborn as she was loyal, I’m just no longer on the list of people she keeps close.

“Guess I’ll see you around then..” I mumbled tearfully.

“Kia,” She said softly, “I’ll be here when you need it. It may seem like he's into you now, but he will kick you to the curb just like Sam did to me.”

I shook my head, knowing that wasn’t true. Oh, how I wish I could tell her their secret. I sigh and sniffle as I say, “He won’t.”

“I’ll see you around, Kia, you’re bodyguards waiting for you.” Leah said snarkily before turning on her heels. I looked over my shoulder to see Paul standing at the picnic table I had been doing homework at. A frown gracing his face as I walked towards him. I quickly wiped the tears that fell onto my cheeks.

“She doesnt know whats she talking about,”Paul said as I reached him, shaking his head as he mutters, “Leahs just a miserable--”

“She's my friend!” I cry, cutting him off and wrapping my arms around myself as the onslaught of tears finally comes.

Paul immediately pulled me in for a bear hug, “It's okay. She’ll see soon enough, mi estrella.”

“Estrella?” I question, not knowing the meaning of the Spanish word.

“Star.”He tells me, before placing a kiss on my hairline, “My favourite astrologer.”

I let myself sink into him more with a soft sigh. I never knew one person could make me feel so at peace, whenever I’m with Paul, he knows exactly how to take away my pain. Even if it's just for a little while. I tilt my head upwards to rest my chin on his chest, “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too.” Paul grinned down at me, his hand leaving my hip to travel the length of my spine, “S’happy I can finally touch you again. That photo wasn’t doing you justice.”

“Nu uh, we need to talk about what happened.” I tell him. As much as I would love to hop in his truck and head to our little place of solace, he got himself in trouble. He hadn’t told me on the phone when he called, but Kim had messaged me the day after to let me know about his quick temper while I was gone.

She had said that Paul almost let his temper get the best of him while off hunting some vampire in the area, and then lost at Sam in his own home for not doing more to keep them off our land. I understand why, he usually had front row seats to my nightmares. The star of them is a single vampire with blood red eyes. I tried to keep them a secret, until Paul had forced me to tell him, thinking maybe he could help with telling the difference between what was real, and what wasn’t.

He grimaced and looked over my head, “Right now?”

“Kim told me,” I said softly “I just want to know your point of view.”

“I missed you.” He murmured, looking back down at me. I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

I stroked his cheekbone gently, “I missed you too.”

“When you’re not around, I feel…God, this sounds fucking stupid.” He grumbled with a shake of his head before letting go of me and sitting on the picnic bench. Paul was quick to pull me back into his arm and into his lap.

I brush his overgrown hair from his eyes, “Hey, don’t say that. I want to know how you feel, good or bad, you can talk to me.”

“I know. I’m trying.” He told me sincerely. I nodded encouragingly and he continued, “I feel like I don’t have an anchor..Nothing to hold onto when things get too…intense.”

“I understand, Paul.”

“As soon as it happened, all I thought about was you. What would you say to me? It helped a bit, but it wasn’t the same.” He opened up honestly, more than I had expected from him. Paul had gotten used to channelling his anger to his wolf, he had said that's what Sam had encouraged him to do before he had imprinted on me. Now, he's been asked to do a complete 180. “I guess..I sometimes worry that I’m disappointing you.”

“Me?” I asked, not sure why he would think that. It's almost impossible for him to disappoint me. For someone who had claimed he wasn’t ‘the relationship’ prior to the imprint, he was doing a hell of a lot better at it then I am. Even before, he always wanted to go do things together, I was fine just sneaking through his window. Neither of us are good at being vulnerable, but if I ask, he delivers, everytime.

“You were so happy when Sam finally said I didn’t need supervision anymore, and then I lost it. I hurt you.” He frowned at the memory, “It’s like I’m back at square one.”

I shake my head and hold his cheeks to bring his eyes back to mine, “That’s not true. I am so proud of you, okay? The little things matter too.”

“I don’t know. I’m working on it though, I promise.” Paul dips his head forward and pecks my lips, as if he's sealing that promise.

“Can I be honest with you?” I ask, and he nods as he pulls back, “I know you don’t like talking about it with me and I get it.You want us to be as normal as can be. But what you do for the tribe, would take a toll on anyone. That's why you have a pack. Lean on them when you need it, I’m sure they feel the same way you do.”

Pressing a kiss to my forehead, before murmuring, “I feel like the luckiest man alive with you in my arms.”

“I know the feeling.” I said as I tuck my head into the crook of his neck, placing a gentle kiss to the side of it, “You’re like a giant heating pad.”

He chuckled, “You know, I can feel when your cramps are bad.”

“Can you?” I sigh in contentment.

“It's dull, like everything else I feel from you. But I know you’re in pain.” He explains before he slides his hand to my lower back, spreading his palm over my spine. “It's always your back.”

“Remember when you used to think I was overexaggerating?” I poke at him with a teasing smile.

“I’m sorry.” He said genuinely, “I’ll make it up to you in a couple of days,,”

“A couple of days?” I ask, before moving to straddle him.

“Right now?” he wiggled his eyebrows, “I’m not afraid of a little blood.”

“Gross,” I cringe at the thought, “How ‘bout a kiss?”

“I’ll give you as many kisses as you’d like, pretty girl.” He mumbled before bringing his hand to the back of my neck to hold me in place as he brushed his lips against mine. I instantly bring my hands to his hair, indulging in the feeling that I’ve missed so much. One thing about Paul and I, we will always be a physical couple. Though there is the fine line we have never crossed, which is what to label ourselves. To everyone else, it looks like we are already dating and maybe we are. But the conversation has never happened, and I’m not sure it ever will. We’re partners. Have been for a while, and that will never change.

“I don’t want you to cut your hair.” I mumbled, tangling my fingers into the ends on the nape of his neck before bringing my lips back to his.

“You prefer when I'm neat.” He tutted against my lips.

I blush at his statement, before curling into his body for more heat.“Not the hair on your head, doofus.”

He chuckled, “I know, baby. I’ll keep it as long as I can manage.”

“Just enough to braid,” I suggested, “I miss doing that.”

“It's getting there,” he said, shaking his hair wildly. I couldn't help but giggle as I brushed it away from his eyes.

“So handsome.” I murmur, before bringing his head down and pressing my lips back to his once, “I could kiss you all day,”

“I won't stop you.” Paul said, squeezing my hip. “I have Friday night off, want to go to the look out?”

“We’ll need more blankets this time, my back has just recovered.” I said teasingly as I stroked the side of his face. We had found the lookout after an evening that went awry, both of our fathers had come home, leaving us with no bedroom. We drove around for a few hours before we found it. I remember joking that that was where he took all his favourite girls, and he promised it would just be our spot. Paul had even divulged in the information that he had cleaned the bed of his truck thoroughly, calling it brand new and untouched.It was loaded with blankets and pillows because he had been watching the weather, after I had told him I wanted to go stargazing at the beach. Though the lookout was a way better spot. No tourists, with an amazing few of the water below.

I think that's when I first realised I was falling for him, despite our no feelings agreement.

“I’ve got something even better.” He whispered before Paul nipped my ear gently.

“Hey, love birds! Not on school property!” Emily called from the window of her classroom. I giggled uncontrollably, mentally adding the picnic tables to the list of places Emily has told us PDA is unacceptable.

“She's everywhere, I swear.” Paul muttered, he was not a fan of all the rules and regulations of where and when he could touch all because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself at a pack dinner.

#paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #twilight wolf pack #paul lahote x oc

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tsintotwo · 2 years

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[59 Hours, Part 6. (Part 5 here). Jake (Sweetbitter) x Reader. Guys, this is done. Finished. This last part is a bit long, and expect a bunch of angst for obvious reasons. I legit only had one idea for one scene when I started this, and it turned into a literal novella- a journey I enjoyed. Thank you so much if you’ve been with it thus far, reading and engaging, and let me know if this wrapped up okay for you.]

Hour 39

‘For fuck’s sake.’, mutters Jake, as the apartment plunges into darkness for the fourth time within the hour.

It started happening just when you were finally getting ready to settle down for the night. After being together, both of you had collapsed in place on the floor. The shadow panic from your past was trying to pull you under again, so you held onto Jake. It was more desperate clutching than holding, and you were aware of that, but you couldn’t stop yourself, because what if he pushes me away now, he didn’t even want me, just games, he’s angry with me anyway, he hates me, he’ll shake me off and walk away disgusted right now, please no- but Jake didn’t do any of that. He just hugged you close, catching his breath, slowly relaxing into your arms.

There wasn’t much talking. You cleaned yourselves up a while later. In addition to all the other things, it was already past any sort of reasonable bedtime (for you anyway, you’re sure Jake is the late-nights-late-mornings kinda dude), so you should’ve been exhausted. And you were, but you still felt wound up and restless.

Truth is, as soon as Jake and you'd broken apart, you felt his absence all over you, with your whole being. You didn't want to let go of him. And when you physically did, when you weren’t holding him, touching him, you wanted to feel that you still could- that anytime you reached out, he’d reach back, and it would be as easy as breathing. It’s what you wanted because it’s what you felt- the amount of closeness you felt with him was powerful without rhyme or reason, wreaking havoc within you like the blizzard did in the city yesterday.

But Jake- how did he feel? The fight and then the intimacy – it was tangled, and complicated, and now you didn’t know where you stood with him. And you were scared, so scared, because you were thinking- what if he doesn’t feel the same way?, and then, but what if he does? What then?

You tried to compose yourself as Jake walked back into the bedroom. It didn’t matter that as soon as you saw him again you wanted to go right back into his arms. He deserved space, and maybe you needed distance too. Needed to clear your head, think. Though how any sort of thinking was going to help you anymore, you didn’t know. You were just opening your mouth to tell him you were fine with the couch tonight- will he shrug and go to sleep on his own, will he throw me a look, then pull me into the bed with him- and that’s when the lights went out.

The power lines are glitching. You lit the two candles you got from the Chinese takeout people and were getting ready for a trial like last night- putting on clothes, socks- Jake also doing the same- when the lights came back. Then they went out again ten minutes later. It’s been happening in irregular intervals since. Something must have gone pop in a shower of sparks somewhere, and they’re trying to fix it now.

You guess you could still go to sleep. Turn off the lights, keep all the clothes on, curl into your couch, and when you started feeling so hot it woke you up, you’d know the heating was on and power came back for real (or if you started feeling so cold your feet felt like they were going to fall off, maybe you’d ask Jake to please share his bed and blanket). But Jake sits in his bed, leaning back, one knee up, one stretched, absently pulling on the strings of his hoodie, looking like he has no intention of sleeping tonight. So you sit quietly on the couch too, not knowing what to do.

But just taking some time to relax, just being in your own space and watching Jake be in his has calmed you somewhat. The chaos of your feelings is settling into a deep blue harmony, and the one outstanding note says end, finish, over- this is your last night here, one of your last few hours with Jake. You’ll be gone tomorrow, never see him again. And soon as that happens, you’ll probably dissipate from his mind and memory like the smoke of his cigarettes, because why would he bother to remember you? All you did was try to meddle in business that’s not yours. You’ve known him for two days- what gave you the right to charge him about how he handles his relationships and feelings?

So while you’re still here, maybe you should make sure to set things right. So that if he ever thinks of you, he won’t feel like shoving the thought away the next second- you hope.

‘I said things maybe I shouldn’t have.’, you say, gathering the courage finally. ‘I’m sorry, Jake.’,

‘Are you?’, he is looking out the window, even though it’s just a blotted square and the only thing to see through it is dark gray nothing.

You take a deep breath, ‘I am if I hurt you, made you feel bad with the way I said them. I-I wanted to-‘, you stop. It’s hard for you to make this apology because while you are sorry if you hurt him, you don’t actually think you were wrong about any of the things you said, and you do still think hearing them- maybe in a better way than you told it- was necessary for him.

‘I wanted you to know that talking to people about deep things isn’t so bad, and you gotta do it sometimes. I guess I did that the worst possible way, and I’m sorry.‘

‘Hm’, Jake sits up straighter, leans towards you slightly from his position on the bed, ‘so tell me, exactly how sorry were you when you couldn’t stop moaning and scr-‘

‘Jake!’, you stop him, blushing in the dark, and see him smile in the flickering orange glow of the candles on his bedside table. He’s making jokes, and you’re relieved beyond anything else- he doesn’t hate you. ‘No, I’m not sorry about that part.’, you confess.

He nods slightly, ‘Good.’ Then he sighs, ‘And I do have people that I talk to. So, whatever, you don’t need to worry.’ He doesn’t mean it in a snarky way, he’s just letting you know.

‘You mean Simone.’, you say before you can stop yourself.

‘Yes.’, he’s watching you, wary, and oh, God, oh, God, here you go again.

‘Have you told her about me yet?’, you ask.

He looks away, not answering.

‘Are you going to?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why? She’s your best friend, best confidante- you just said that.’

‘She doesn’t need to know everything-‘

‘Jake-’ you realize your pulse rate is rising, and try to calm yourself down. If you’re doing this, you aren’t botching it like last time. ‘I get that this- me being here- might not be such a big event for you that you’d want to promote it everywhere. But if you’re talking about what you did for the two days stuck at home, and you don’t even mention me, that’s weird-’

‘Oh, yeah, maybe I’ll mention you. Tell everyone I fucked a random girl in my apartment. They haven’t heard that enough times, I’m sure they’ll be riveted-‘

He’s doing it again, retreating and hitting back, trying to hurt whoever tries to peer too close- but you know what, you’re not backing down this time, you’re not losing your calm, because if he can say his things, you can say yours too, can’t you?

‘Yeah, that’s what you’ll say. But you won’t say how you liked it when I cooked for you or how nice that conversation was, you won’t say that you had me in your bed but not for sex- you found peace with me holding you, you won’t say how you felt when I touched and kissed every inch of you and it wasn’t just because I wanted your body, or how you felt when you did the same to me. You won’t say how easy it is to talk to me or even to be with me in silence when you’re not pulling away. You won’t say any of that, to anyone, and not to Simone.’

You can hear Jake’s breathing from here, can make out his chest rising and falling with the effort of it. Then a sudden harsh glare blinds both of you for a moment- power is back again.

As you both blink, adjusting to the light, you take deep breaths. Where did your resolve go- that you wouldn’t do this? Jake has lived his life without you this far and he will for the rest of it, where do you, a two-day stranger- figure into this? Just because he makes you feel things you haven’t in a long while, or ever, you can’t hope it’s the same for him. Nothing that happened in this apartment was meant to last, was it? How you feel- just push it down, bury it under, and go on to your real life, because this is what you do- the sensible thing.

But is it sensible to ignore what’s right in front of you, what you can clearly see- that however he feels about you, it’s not nothing, that you have an effect on him just as he has one on you? Is it sensible to try spending the rest of your life forgetting a person and regretting how you could have tried- if not to have them, then to have them be in a place they deserve to be?

And you’re not you in this apartment, you’re someone else. You’re reckless. You don’t calculate, don’t make the best plans. You rush in headfirst, you fall dizzyingly, you defy, you hope. So what if you didn’t give up just yet, even if you don’t know what it is that you’re trying to save? What if you wanted more, even if it meant you have to fight tooth-and-claws for it? Maybe there's nothing to gain, but you've got nothing to lose.

You go and sit on the foot of Jake’s bed. Talking to people is your job, and while survey questionnaires might be the same for everyone you talk to, the exact way of asking the questions is up to you. Everyone responds to a different style, and with Jake, you have to take every bit of care you can.

‘Jake’, you are calm and steady, imploring softly, ‘I’m just trying to understand, please. Just a few simple questions that I have- would you answer? It’s okay if you don’t, but please try. When you said you had the idea for a business, did you tell Simone right away?’

The pause is long enough that you think he won’t answer. But then he says, ‘No. I told her when I wanted to sell the house. She needed to know…’

‘Okay. And you were telling me about how you don’t like to visit home, but she insists that you go?’

‘It’s not fair for her to go alone either. It’s our house, if she’s going-‘

‘What would she do if she found you like I found you last night? Bad trip?’, you hold your breath, this is a touchy one. But Jake answers like he doesn’t have to think, ‘Take care of me, then call me a fucking idiot for swallowing that stuff alone at home’. He wasn’t alone, but you guess he means not in a group or having a party.

‘So she’d judge you for it?’, you ask.

Jake frowns, ‘It’s not judging, we can say that stuff to each other. Whatever.’

‘And if the whole thing was reversed? You found her in her apartment, alone, having a bad trip? Would you call her a fucking idiot?’

‘Wh- no! She’s not an idiot, if she did something like that, that’d mean something was seriously messed up-‘

‘So she is not an idiot, but you are, for the same thing? Jake, is that what you believe?’

Jake’s face crumples in confusion and annoyance. ‘Stop talking.’, he says, holding up a hand, ‘Turning around my words- you don’t even know Simone-‘

‘No, I don’t!’, you interrupt, ‘And that’s why I’m asking. And, completely based on what you’ve told me here’s what I now know- she chose most of your workplaces. She chooses when you visit the cape. She judges your decisions. And when you told her you’d start a new thing for yourself, she wasn’t happy, excited, or encouraging, she was just sad. And that made you give it up. Jake, there’s a… power imbalance here. Her terms always matter more than yours.’

‘Will you shut the fuck up?’, Jake slides off the bed so quickly, you almost miss it. ‘Jesus!’, he’s shouting at you now, only his voice gets deeper instead of higher, so the sound is like an animal growling. ‘What is wrong with you? Simone looks out for me, and you’d twist that like-‘

‘I’m sorry!’, your voice is rising to keep up with his volume, but you still try to keep it steady, ‘I get it! If someone I’ve known for two days started talking trash about someone I’ve known and loved my whole life, I wouldn’t trust them either. I swear I’m not trying to come between you two. I- you told me you both only had each other growing up, and of course you care about each other. It’s just, you two are different, so over the years you learned how to stay no matter what, and she learned how to not let go no matter what-‘

‘She was the only one there!’, Jake’s eyes are burning. He looks at you, but you feel like he’s seeing something that’s not even here. ‘That whole day, looking for mom, not even- no one even looking at first, because who knew where the fuck she decided to hole up today- and then looking, everyone, me waiting for her, crying myself to sleep, and then they pull her up from the sea that day’- Some kind of floodgate has opened, and he talks like he’s mad, ‘the house full of police and reporters from some shit local paper and people I haven’t seen once in my life, bringing stupid seafood platters, going ‘Aw, poor kid’, pinching my cheek, then leaving like they’d fucking done something.’ Jake’s eyes are glistening with tears, and you feel your eyes sting too. The pain is so raw in the air now, still. ‘My dad didn’t even know where I was half the time- Simone found me, she gave me cookies, took me in her house, played with me.’

The energy that’s always so coiled within Jake is pouring out now, uncontrolled, and he pants, hands flailing, feet shifting, ‘And, and the kids at school- where’s your mommy, Jake? Where’s mommy?- Teachers looking at me like I was some fucking alien they didn’t know how to talk to-‘

He’s moving away as he talks, and you stand up, taking steps toward him. ‘-My dad drinking all day every day, disappearing to who knows where then coming back just to fucking beat me up, I was fucking glad when he didn’t come back-‘

‘Jake-‘, you whisper, your heart breaking for him.

‘And I was all alone, no one wanted me, who would? Only Simone, she’s the only one who gives a shit-‘, he’s walking backwards, ‘So don’t fucking tell me I don’t need her. You don’t know -‘

‘Jake!’, you’re trying to stand in front of him, but he keeps moving away, ‘Listen to me-‘

‘No! Just how much more of this bullshit do you have left? ‘Cause-‘

‘Just listen-‘

‘WHY?’, he roars, ‘Who the fuck are you?’ And you don’t know what comes over you, but in two steps you’re almost onto him, and using all your strength, you push him back to the wall that you both were nearing, your hands on his chest. He’s shaking, and you are too. Your entire inside feels like it’s burning up in hot, agonizing flames and with a sinking feeling you think this- this is what we become-I don’t make him better, we both make each other worse- but no. No. You won’t give into that dynamic, that thought, you won’t scream, won’t lose it, won’t be toxic. You will tell him what you want to, that much you’ll do. And then you’ll let go- of him, of it, of everything.

Jake’s eyes blaze. He's just shocked enough that he hasn't shaken you off, shoved you away yet, but he will, and you have to start before that.

‘Jake.’, you gulp in as much air as you can, ‘I’m nobody. No one. I’m just a random girl. But I have a story for you. I’ll tell that story now. You don’t have to do anything but listen.’ You take one second to gather your thoughts. ‘On my fourteenth birthday, my mom sat me down and told me how proud she was of me. Dad had left, and things were tough, but I had been so good. Such a big girl already, always doing my homework, helping with my siblings, never a complaint, always by her side when she needed me. And then she told me she’d need more help.’

Jake is listening, good, ‘She was picking up another job, and I would need to babysit more, and do more chores, and I would, wouldn’t I, I was her best girl! She hugged me, braided my hair all nice, sent me to bed with the sweetest forehead kiss. And seven years later, when I was twenty one, I realized no one in the world actually gives a single fuck about me.’

You take a shaky breath, ‘It was right after I finally managed to leave my ex, breaking into millions of pieces inside even though I knew he was terrible to me. I came home at night, and it was like a cemetery, even with three people in it. My sister was 15, up in her room with her phone, texting boys she’d never tell me about because I was too strict, I tried to control everything. My brother was 11, asleep, and I was too old to feel like a sister to him, he was afraid of me- and I don’t blame him, I had been cross and impatient with him so many times. And my mom- she was in one of her depressive episodes, more and more every month, she hadn’t gone to work for three days, locked herself in her room. No one had cooked anything, no one ever did when I didn’t. No leftover for me in the fridge that I’d hoped would be there, no one to talk to. This was the emptiness I was afraid of, that made me take so long to break it off with that fucker, that if I let go of that one thing, there would be nothing for me. There wasn’t, not a single person who had a single thought to spare for me, and you know what I realized? I only had myself to blame.’

It's harder for you to talk now, and you have to make an effort to keep your voice from shaking, ‘At fourteen, I got stuck being my mom’s ‘best girl’. I didn’t have time to hang out with friends, I didn’t have time for the boys who liked me- there was one who swore he was in love with me in senior year, and I broke his heart in front of his friends when I told him I wouldn’t go to prom with him. I didn’t have time. I worked jobs, I did household chores, I took care of my siblings, and I felt it was all worth it when mom looked at me in that way, smiled that smile at me- letting me know how much of a relief it is that she could count on me, that I was there, telling me and anyone she met that I was the best daughter in the whole world. It didn’t matter dad left, and my sister and brother felt more like jobs than siblings- I wasn’t unloved, mom loved me so much, so, so much. I didn’t notice it dry up over the years, I didn’t see that she started taking everything I did for granted, I didn’t see when everyone who cared about me, or tried to care about me dropped off from my periphery. I lived for my mother’s smile, and as it became rarer, I became more desperate, tried to do more, blamed it all on her depression, but at twenty one, I realized all that’s left was me, all alone.’

You swallow, feeling tears run down your cheek. You have never told anyone all this. Jake is like a stone statue, listening to you, ‘We do that, Jake.’, you say, wiping your face, ‘We get stuck. We think the one person who loved us at fourteen is still the only one who’d care about us at forty, and we put all our coins on that bet, becoming what they wanted us to become. Sometimes it’s true, sometimes you need them, and they need you, but sometimes, it’s all you, blind, going around in a circle.’

You take your hands off Jake’s body, stepping back. ‘You were right, I don’t know Simone. But I know we all are some kind of broken. She must be too, she’s dealing with that like she knows how, and maybe that’s how you get stuck, you both do.’

You’re fully clothed still, you realize, but the power has been back for a while now, and it’s hot. You take off your coat, feeling so tired, suddenly. You’ve been talking so much. ‘I’m not trying to save you or anything, Jake- ha, goodness knows I got my hands full with myself- and no one can save anyone anyway. You don’t need saving. You just need to see. You weren’t loved enough when you were a kid, and I’m so sorry about that, but that isn’t a lifelong truth about who you are. Simone was the only one who gave a shit, but she doesn’t have to be the only one now, and you don't have to be the only one for her either. I’m nobody, and you wouldn’t want me anyway, but one day you’ll meet someone and-’, stupid tears welling up again, weren’t you supposed to let go?-‘if you let them, you’ll see just how much they’ll love you. Or maybe you don’t meet just one person- you have beautiful things with multiple people- that can also happen. But you have to let them know and love you, Jake, let them have the whole of you, not a walled-up version, not just a Jake half of Jake-and-Simone. You can’t get stuck being that, trying to live your life around that forever. Just being with you for two days I’ve seen it, and you have to see too- you could be so much more.’

Jake is very still, barely even blinking, and you don’t have anything else to tell him that he needs to hear. You still talk though, you can’t stop, because as pathetic as it is, you never had anyone to say this stuff to before, ‘As for me, I’m still at home taking care of things, but I don’t plan to be doing this forever. Mom- her depression is real, and while what she did to me wasn’t fair, I can’t hate her for that. I’ll get her help. Mental health treatment is so fucking expensive… but I’m trying to talk to some organizations who might help. I can’t keep taking care of her all her life. My siblings are growing up, they won’t need me that much. I’m saving money. I’ll get out one day. And meanwhile, I took on this job because I get to travel. Thought I’d meet people, live a little, even if that means getting stuck in surprise blizzards in crazy cities.’ You try to smile, though your eyes are hazy with tears, ‘Maybe I’ll meet someone too, and they’ll love me, take care of me for a change. I want that. Not gonna lie, kinda forgot what it feels like-‘

Jake’s hand reaches out to grab you behind your neck, then he’s pressing your face onto his chest, and hugging you so tight you think he’s trying to mark your skin, get under it, sink into your bloodstream. You’re sobbing, holding him like he’s the last iceberg while the Titanic sinks behind you, and you think maybe he’s crying too, but you don’t know, you can’t see his face, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because at this moment, right now, you two understand each other, know each other perfectly, without having to exchange a single word.

Hour 42

Huddling under the blanket together, you two have Chinese leftover right out of the boxes like little kids. Crying really takes it out of you, and it’s been hours since you last ate. Jake groans about the possibility of food getting on his bed- he’s a bit of a clean freak- and you counter that you got much worse things on his carpet earlier, and he has to agree. He asks about birth control, serious- he didn’t use protection the last time, and you assure him that based on your cycle, you should be safe, but you’ll take a pill tomorrow anyway.

Then you’re ready for sleep, finally. It’s about to be dawn, but peering out of his window, you can’t see anything, the sky still dark with clouds. The big Chinese place sign is lit, washing his bed with soft yellow light as Jake turns the apartment lights off. He comes up behind you on the bed, you turn, and somehow you end up on your knees opposite each other, foreheads touching.

‘Jake,’, you say, voice tiny.

‘Mm.’, his arms are around your back, pinpricks of light in his eyes, earring glinting.

‘I like you.’, you feel like you’re in fifth grade again, confessing to a boy for the first time, but you didn’t get to do that stuff in fifth grade, did you, so you’ll do it now. Maybe the person is wrong, or maybe it’s the time, or the place, or just the situation, but why think so much when it’s all about to be over anyway? You’ve got enough of living with regrets. ‘You don’t have to-‘, you swallow, ‘You don’t have to say anything. I just thought I’d tell-‘

He stops you with a kiss, his mouth slowly devouring yours, long and tender. When you come up for air after what seems like ages, breathless, foreheads touching again, he murmurs, ‘Move to New York.’

‘You move to my hometown.’, you whisper, challenging him back, ‘I think that pub in the next town over is still looking for a bartender.’

He laughs, shaking silently, and you laugh too, and you both know neither of you are moving. Life is not a movie, and be it your roots or be it shackles, you don’t get to cut off and escape in a day. The best you can hope for is the promise of trying- to no one else, but to yourself.

‘Come to sleep.’, Jake pulls you next to him under the blanket, and when he kisses you on the forehead you think you might cry, but then you’re all snug and tiny in his arms, your face pressed against his chest, breathing him in, and you think how you have this moment, how you’ll always have this moment, no matter what.

Hour 49

You wake up to see Jake ready for going out. He’s wearing what must be their uniform at the restaurant- striped button-up, slacks, and a tie.

‘Nice outfit’, you observe.

‘Shut up’, he mutters, trying to get his hair to behave with a brush. ‘Locker room lock is jammed, apparently.’

‘Pulling it off, though.’, you tell him, ‘I want to tip you already.’

He half-smiles, putting down the brush. ‘I gotta be at work.’, he says, ‘We open at four but lots to do before-‘

‘Okay.’, you don’t need to know any more than the fact that he’s leaving now. ‘When does your shift end?’

‘Eleven.’

You’re not seeing him again. Trying to ignore the snaking pain the thought brings with it, you say, ‘Okay. Give me just fifteen minutes. I’ll get out with you now and wait it out at the airport-‘

He gives you a look, ‘Where do you get these ideas? Your plane is at two in the morning.’

He was listening last evening after all, even though all he’d said was ‘Good.’

‘Yeah, but-‘

He throws you his keys, ‘Just lock up before you leave. Leave the keys with the Chinese people.’

‘What, you know them?’

‘No, but I think I should. Food was great.’

You smile, ‘Yeah.’

Jake has shaved this morning. It makes him look much younger, and softer, and it hurts to look at him. ‘I’ll get out around ten at night.’, you tell him.

He nods, not saying anything.

At the door, you kiss. He tells you he’s running late, then kisses you again. He lets his forehead fall on your shoulder for a few seconds, breathing, arms around your waist, and you keep blinking as you run your hand on the back of his head, letting your fingers wind in his hair, messing it up again.

He doesn’t know where you work, your address except the name of your town. He doesn’t ask for your phone number, your social media handles (which in any case you don’t have that many of). He was never going to call you anyway, and what would he have said if he did? And what would you say back? So you understand, and you don’t ask for his things either.

You two lock eyes for a few moments, and you try to memorize him- the raven black hair messy in the back, the ring of amber around the pupils of his blue eyes, the groove on his nose, the unexpectedly pretty mouth. The earring and the chain, the tattoo on his arm that you can see because he has his sleeves rolled back. All of it is overlaid on memories that you made in the last two days- his smokey kisses and pink cheeks when he came in from the snow and hoarse voice and saying your name over and over- too many memories. They’ll last you a lifetime. They have to.

He puts on his coat and leaves, not looking back.

You walk aimlessly around the apartment. Shower. Gather your things in the backpack. Go to the place downstairs, now open, and get some more Chinese food. Chat with the owner folks again for a few minutes, thanking them for the candles. Come back, browse the internet- parts of the city are still ravaged but things are almost back to normal- it’s NYC after all. You plan your travel and work schedule for the next two days, putting things down in the calendar. You never did get the survey done in the city, you’ll tell them to send someone else for it next time.

Time moves slowly, and you miss Jake like you can’t breathe. Eventually, you pick up the t-shirt he took off before leaving. You take off your own top, slip Jake’s shirt on, and curl up on his side of the bed. ‘Very 90s rom-comey’, you think to yourself, ‘but nobody’s gonna see me anyway.’

Hour 59

You thought about it many times- you could just go to him. Swing by the Union Square Café. Just show up. He’ll be the one mixing drinks behind the bar. Maybe you could order something. Really tip him this time, bring that joke full circle.

But you don’t do it. You won’t. You’ve said your goodbyes. You don’t know how he’ll feel about you showing up unannounced in his workplace. And what’s the point anyway? You’ll just be saying the same goodbyes again.

Your Uber is arriving, so you come downstairs. You look up at the building once, at the window with the big Chinese sign. In that apartment, you were someone else, but now, outside it, you still feel different. Jake gave you something, you can’t put your finger on it. Maybe it’s just the part of you that felt that he gave you back. Day after day, thinking about work, plans, moves, strategies about life, things, other people- all of it blended into an endless muddy brown haze, with only the possibility of a light at the distant end of it, and then you met Jake, and he made you feel- emotions and connection and so many things you can’t even name. He’s hot and smooth and all that, and he and you bonded over trauma maybe, but this is really why you liked him so much. Still do- you think, helplessly trying to push down the clench of hurt inside your chest. God, imagine having to get over someone you were never even with- ooh no, you don’t have to imagine, you’ll be doing that now, for who know how long.

You look at the app. Your Uber car is stuck in traffic. Someone veers their bike into the alley with an alarmingly reckless speed, as if their life depended on it, and then they come to stop in front of you and your heart stops beating. It’s Jake. He’s back.

He lets the bike fall, ‘Thought I’d missed you. My windows are dark and you weren’t at the front door of the building.’, he’s panting, trying to catch his breath.

It occurs to you that this is the side door. You used this one because it’s the one you know.

‘What are you doing here?’, you manage to ask. You’ll have to leave in minutes but just seeing him now your body hums and buzzes like it just received the headiest dose of happiness of your life.

‘Wanted to see you.’, Jake says, and this man of yours, words are not his preference, are they, because then he pins you to the wall, and kisses you on the mouth.

‘Thought you didn’t get off until eleven’, you say in between the kisses, breathless, unbuttoning his coat and slipping your hand inside, sliding it on his chest over his shirt.

‘Oh, I’m not off. Just told Nick to cover me for five minutes and bailed.’ He unzips your coat, and the cold is a shock, but then his hand slips inside your sweater and it’s not cold, it’s getting a bit hot actually- ‘It’s already been twenty minutes.’ He says, kissing you again, ‘Howard’s gonna freak’. He grins against your jaw.

‘Really.’, you’ve been clutching on his collar, and the tie is loose. You like it much better this way, ‘Lots of trouble, just to see me.’

‘You’re worth some trouble.’, he murmurs against your ear, gently sucking on your earlobe.

‘Oh, yeah?’, you shiver- not from the cold.

‘Oh, yeah.’

Your Uber driver is calling you. ‘Just a minute!’, you gasp into your phone as Jake kisses your neck, ‘Just wait there for a couple minutes, please. I’m almost there.’

The car is at the front door, you realize, and now it’s really time to go.

You give Jake one last quick and full kiss on the mouth before peeling off of him. You bend down, and take out a black sharpie from your backpack that landed on the ground. You always have a few of these handy for marking questionnaires.

Jake is watching as you loosen his tie more and unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. You write your phone number along his right collarbone with the sharpie, pushing aside his white tank. You touch your lips there before you button his shirt back up and close the front of his coat for him.

‘A tattoo from me.’, you smile at him, ‘Don’t sweat too much tonight.’

You like that he could though. He could sweat, or could shower, messing up the numbers, or could just forget to copy it. Or he could have it and just choose not to call you. You’d never know which. You like that.

Jake nods, murmurs, ‘Thank you.’

‘I won’t-‘, you have to tell him, ‘I won’t wait for you to call me. But-‘

‘But I will, if I’m feeling too fucked up some time and in need of talking about my feelings.’

‘Or makeup advice.’, you add.

‘Or that,’, he agrees.

You hug him. It’s harder to feel with your heavy jackets, but you can tell he’s hugging you back with all he has.

You won’t cry. You understand how big a deal it is for him to want to call you for talking about real stuff if he ever feels the need. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment and he won’t ever, but he trusts you, and feels that you are close. You’re friends. And friends is the best you could hope for, given everything else.

You kiss his cheek. Say goodbye. He lets you go, taking just a second too long to do it.

You turn back once. You thought you wouldn’t cry, but your eyes are blurry, and through them you can see him, standing there looking back at you. You swallow your stupid sob, and smile through it.

Maybe it’s the end. Maybe it isn’t. You get to find out. And that- that is glorious.

#sweetbitter #jake #jake x reader #jake x you #jake x oc #fanfic #fic #sweetbitter fanfic #tom sturridge

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