#his job is keep the sails flowing and the flirt.

[kenhowler2004]

Oh yeah I drew a twink. Forgot to post him. Enjoy.

[calicheer-cove]

Select Clientele - Billy Hargrove x Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: Chrissy has her eyes on Billy. Billy has his eyes on Chrissy. He decides to have a little talk with her. What will be her decision?

Author’s Note: The pool flirting scene, but make it Calicheer. Also let me know if you want a part two.

Summertime in the small town of Hawkins meant something different for everyone. For El and Max, this meant sleepovers and playing around with her powers to spy on the boys. For Dustin this meant computer camp to learn and build with the latest in tech ware. For Will, he was hoping for D&D, while Lucas and Mike wondered if their girlfriends were mad at them. As for the older ones, summer internships and jobs to save up for future endeavors. Billy was more than happy to work as a lifeguard if it meant being out of the house. Chrissy, against her mother’s narrow mindedness, worked at the GAP.

Training alongside her friends was a nice change of pace instead of attending bible camp, again. Utilizing her people skills, practicing money management, and keeping the place in tip top shape made the time roll by. Even on days when only a small handful of customers came over, she was happy to be there. Aside from store discounts, she also had the benefit of stopping by Scoops Ahoy! to meet up with Steve and Robin during her lunch breaks. Harrington went on about his failed love life, while Buckley and her rightfully poked fun at him. Dustin was surprised to see Cunningham, feeling apprehensive at first. In time he was able to see that she was actually a nice person. Chrissy thought of him like a second little brother.

Aside from the mall, the community pool was also another big hot spot. The place to be for fun in the sun, much to the boredom of the juniors and seniors working as lifeguards. They did their training and work of course, their faces indicated that they would rather be anywhere than here. Billy was no different, still at least he was able to earn a little extra money and work on his tan. Billy was not ashamed of how he looked, he took pride in his appearance. A number of the mothers clearly took interest. He offered them a charming smile as he passed by, his face dropping immediately once he turned his back on them. He loved the attention of course, but there was only one set of eyes that Billy wanted on him. Eyes as blue as the ocean beneath the Santa Monica pier in July.

Nancy took in the warmth of the bright sun on her skin. Robin preferred to stay under the umbrella with Vickie, worried that the 50 spf wouldn’t be enough for her; despite her reassurances. Dustin was engaged in a battle of chicken, keeping himself steady on Steve’s shoulders. Making his best attempt to push Will off of Jonathan’s shoulders. Lucas and Mike were showing off in front of Max and El, the two girls focusing on each other rather than their idiot boyfriends. Erica and her friends were more than prepared to make fun of the older Sinclair sibling and his friend.

Chrissy’s nose was firmly in a copy of some trashy romance novel that Heather loaned her. A pretty predictable story, but one that she enjoyed nonetheless. In a small, shanty sea town, a faithful woman of god (who so happens to be a widow) crosses paths with a sexy pirate. He steals her, they go sailing, have sex, and that’s it. The words were enticing, the same could be said for the cover art as well. Muscular man with a tan, long flowing locks of golden, curly hair, eyes as blue as the sea, and he’s wearing a shirt that showed off more cleavage than the lady.

“So how are you liking it so far?” Heather asked, passing over a can of Tab to her.

“It’s good. Captain James is wooing Prudence in his quarters,” Chrissy answered back, eyes going back to the page.

“Ooh, you’re gonna love the next chapter. It’s so hot,” Heather purred, sliding a stick of gum into her mouth.

Chrissy wasn’t exactly a connoisseur of romantic smut, but her curiosity was definitely piqued in freshman year. During a slumber party, Heather shared her mother’s private reading collection and the girls all had a good laugh. Chrissy wasn’t sure what the flowery language meant, but she giggled as well. In sophomore year, she would find a private corner at the public library to read those stories; that is until Heather would offer one to get, in exchange for a little tutoring. As they studied for an upcoming science test, Heather noticed how distracted Chrissy appeared during a session. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Cunningham was crushing on Hargrove as he walked by. Heather, in good fun and genuine curiosity, had questions. Chrissy was easy to read: Cheeks glowing, heart thumping, and scowl that wouldn’t scare a rabbit. Heather swore to tell no one and she kept that promise.

Chrissy peaked over her heart shaped sunglasses at the tanned Adonis. She had an inkling that he was looking at her, despite wearing his aviators. She figured that maybe she wouldn’t register on his love radar, boy was she wrong. Billy wasn’t a stranger to certain members on the cheer team, little flings in between after school practice were commonplace. To his surprise, all she did was offer him a friendly greeting and nothing more. He sat behind her in geometry, staring at the gentle slope of her neck. The curled loop of her ponytail looked so pretty, often accessorized with a scrunchie or a bow. Her perfume smelled expensive, costing more than a six pack, a box of Camels, and gas combined. In the cafeteria their eyes met briefly before she went off with her friends. One of Hargrove’s fellow goons made the fatal mistake of jokingly stating that Billy had a crush on Chrissy. A threat and swift punch to the shoulder was enough to shut him up. Wounded pride aside, it was true; Billy did find her fascinating.

Getting paired up in class for a history project led to conversations, allowing for them to talk; even if it was surface level. They began to converse in the hallway and after school as well. People began to talk, Billy didn’t give a shit, but Chrissy did. He wasn’t sure why, but a part of his mind ordered him to keep her safe. If someone made an inappropriate remark at her, Billy was the first to know. If he noticed that she wasn’t in class, he would ask around. Max kept her distance between her step brother and the cheerleader. She figured it was going to be nothing more than another quick relationship that she would end up having to hear from her bedroom, again. Yet he seemed different around her. The last thing Max could do was bring it up. Still, she found it a little amusing that El didn’t understand what Mayfield meant by “happy screams” and why Chrissy wasn’t making any.

“Chrissy? Hello, earth to Chrissy?” Heather stated as she waved her hand in front of her friend’s face.

“Huh? What?”

She chuckled, “You were totally staring at Billy.”

“I was not,” Chrissy hissed back, her blush betraying her.

“Aww, look at you, you’re blushing.”

She crossed her arms, “No! I- I- I’m sunburned.”

Heather leaned back in her chair, expensive sunglasses perfectly perched upon her nose, “Uh-huh sure, whatever you say. I mean, it’s not like he’s been staring at you since you came in or anything.”

Was he? Chrissy wanted to check, but she didn’t want to be so obvious. She placed her own glasses back up, eyes lingering back to the beautiful man. Solar spectacles on, face on the residents having their fun. No one would ever know about the ocean eyes gazing at the strawberry blonde.

Chrissy inhaled slowly and made her way over to the pool. Fake it til you make it as the old saying goes. For Chrissy, her confidence always shined through whenever she cheered. Her feet and legs gracefully strolled over to the water. His eyes kept his sight on her, his mind taking in each and every step that she took. She dawned a two colored one piece swimsuit, purple and white adorned the fabric. She wondered if it was too revealing due to the revealing neckline and how the suit hugged her rear. Heather and Nancy insisted that she looked amazing, Vickie loved the colors, and Robin was speechless before giving her a compliment (well more of a ramble, but Chrissy still thanked her).

The water felt so welcoming along her skin, allowing her to feel so comfortable and so free. She always loved the water, be it rain, lakes, and whenever she took a bath. As a child, she used to pretend that she was a mermaid swimming far, far away into the endless depths. No more responsibilities, no more worries, and no more stress. She could be her own person with a strong, shining tail and locks as long as a kelp forest. If only this mermaid knew just how much the lonely sailor watched her. Billy slowly removed his sunglasses, admiring the incredible form and movement. Chrissy took to the water like a bird to the air, with ease and strength. Her vibrant eye makeup never washed away, strawberry blonde locks darkened to a warm amber hue. She was radiant, lively, and enchanting.

His job was to focus on everybody at the community pool, yet he simply could not look away. He could hear music playing loudly in his eardrums. The booming of drums, the slick plucking of a bass, the melodic riffing of a guitar, and the amorous lyrics from the vocalist all came together. In his eyes, Chrissy moved in slow motion to the tune of Foreigner’s “Hot Blooded.” As much as he loved Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, her presence was no longer lingering in his mind. Chrissy was the one to break the surface of the pool’s water, strutting towards him in a red hot bikini. Manicured fingers carefully unclipping her top from the front to reveal her small and pretty breasts. His whistle seductively brushed along his upper lip and tongue, blowing out a loud tweet. The loudness of reality returned, but he kept his eyes on her. Chrissy used the ladder and was pleased to see him walking over.

“Looking good out there, Chrissy,” Billy stated, unable to keep back his smile.

She couldn’t resist smiling as well, “Thank you.”

He offered her a towel, their hands touched for a moment, “Perfect form.”

She felt the pleasant spark, eyes drifting along his sculpted body before she met his eyes, “Well… your form is amazing.”

Oh god, did she really say that to him? She really said that to him. His smile grew, letting out a mischievous chuckle.

She felt the little twinge of embarrassment, “I’m sorry. I’ve seen you… teaching lessons. Swimming lessons.”

Chrissy looked away briefly, asking for the concrete below her to melt beneath her feet. Maybe getting buried in a rock solid hole would be less painful than this. Yet he was still here, more than ready to engage. She hoped that perhaps he could smooth out the wince inducing matter.

Billy’s toothy grin dropped from humorous to a heart palpitating smirk, “You know, I could uh… I could teach you, if you like.”

Did she hear that right? Or did she imagine those words? He fluttered his long, lovely eyelashes when he spoke. Chrissy stood there with her mouth slightly agape.

“Oh?”

He continued, grin still evident, “I know all the styles. Freestyle.” He took a step closer, his expression neutral; enjoying the way she obediently nodded her head and clutched her towel. “Butterfly.”

Chrissy could hear her heart racing many miles a second. Her brain begged her not to say something stupid again. She could feel her body heat rising. She swore that she could also sense the warm sensation of his body as well, despite the short distance between them. Chrissy was so lost in his eyes that she didn’t notice the fresh stick of gum that he unwrapped and fished from his pocket. Gazing at the thick fingers gently holding the treat beneath his lips.

There it was, that smile, that gorgeously handsome smile, “Breaststroke.”

Chrissy did not blink, fingers loosening up as the air from her lungs momentarily vanished. The sound of her towel plummeting to the hard surface brought her back. She bent down to grab it, finding herself looking at Billy’s face when he helped her; his hand brushing hers once again.

“You okay?” He asked, sounding a little concerned and a bit smug.

She wrapped the towel around her waist, trying to hide her shyness with a friendly disposition, “I didn’t think you- I didn’t think you taught other age groups.”

Billy smacked his lips while he chewed, his breath minty fresh, “Well I offer more uh… advanced lessons to select clientele.”

He looked her directly in her gleaming eyes, he could see her demeanor change. Any time they spoke, even if it was just for a few minutes, Chrissy noticed how she felt a little light headed. Being in such close proximity made her lower half pulsate, a feeling that would continue to plague her long after they spoke.

His voice became as soft as the wind, Pacific blue eyes drilling into her soul, “Come to think of it, there is a good pool out at a Motel 6 on Cornwallis. It’s very quiet. You know, very private. Shall we say tonight? Eight o’clock?”

Chrissy’s brain reminded her to breathe, her ears focusing on the sound of his deep, gentle tone amidst the noise of summer fun. She could feel her head nodding, having to stop herself when she gave him a sympathetic smile, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

He sounded heartbroken, it was all an act of course, one that made her laugh, “Can’t what? Have fun? Chrissy Cunningham.”

She felt so weird in this unusual predicament, yet she couldn’t help but enjoy this extra attention that he was giving her. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Billy to flirt with others, but she couldn’t imagine herself being with him romantically; and yet her mind did wander to that possibility.

Chrissy ran her nails through her soaked locks, doing her best to calm down her racing heart beat, letting out another chuckle, “No. I… I… I just, uh… I don't think I need any lessons.”

How strange. Her voice sounded different. Breathy and just a little seductive. Billy liked that, he really liked it.

He was closer to her, truly towering over Chrissy, “Oh, you see, I think you do. I just don’t think that you’ve had the right teacher.”

She gulped, this was really happening, “I, uh-”

The smug bastard showed off his best smirk, his voice was like caramel, rich and smooth, “It will be the workout of your life.”

Chrissy wondered if it was possible for a human heart to thrust back and forth through one’s chest the way a cartoon character’s heart does. His wolfish demeanor should have disgusted her, but she couldn’t lie to herself, she was enjoying this. Yet she could sense the judgemental eyes of everyone around her. As if she were bare before all of Hawkins, a sensation that haunted her in life and in her dreams.

Chrissy gasped when she felt Heather’s grasp on her arm, “Hey Billy, don’t you have some cougars to flirt with?”

He rolled his eyes, “Speaking of cougars, how’s your mom doing?”

Heather scowled at him, “You’re such a prick.”

“Well, I’d like to stay and chat, but I have a job to do. See you later, Chrissy,” Billy stated before heading back to his station.

Chrissy covered herself with the towel, “Thanks Heather.”

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, “Yes, I’m fine. Just um… I don’t know… kinda weird right now.”

[yanderes-galore]

yandere model crushing on his sweet fashion designer. you’re just so kind and eager to make new outfits for him to model, how could he not fall in love! you also understand thats he’s a bit more mean and stoic than others, and don’t judge him.. he just appreciates your kindness so much!

You're just trying to make a living and what do you get in return? Your model obsessed with you-

Concept as not specified.

Yandere! Male! Model with Fashion Designer! Darling Concept

Possible Trigger Warnings: Yandere behavior, Unprofessional behavior, Forced relationship, Forced kiss, Implied creepy flirting, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Suggestive thoughts.

- There's no doubt the model who picked you out for the job is attractive to you.

- You're just so excited to see how he looks in the outfits you produce.

- This may make the model you chose interpret it as you falling for him.

- Sure, he's attractive but you need to get this job done as he is your client.

- Your model seems to have other plans.

- Your model is also stoic and can seem cruel at times.

- To many this makes him difficult to work with, except you.

- You understand the field can be stressful and you need to be on guard as a model.

- Fans can get a bit creepy....

- In fact, you may even take his personality into account for the outfits you make.

- He seems like a cool and stoic guy so you incorporate such a vibe into your outfits.

- Your model is surprised yet flattered by this.

- You don't resent him for his personality.

- You instead give him kindness and turn his personality into inspiration.

- You're perfect to him.

- His boss may get mad that he's fallen for his fashion designer, but could anyone really blame him?

- What if he kept things secret?

- You think your job is going well and you're making so much money, things are good!

- Then one time after a session, your model corners you.

- "Hey there, babe... you're always so considerate towards me in our little photo shoots. Why don't I return the favor with dinner?"

- Your model is utterly infatuated with you.

- You may be a fashion designer, but you certainly look like a model to him.

- He yearns for when he can kiss those lips...

- Roaming his hands down your body as you cling to him...

- His fantasies flow through his head when he looks at you.

- When you take up his offer on dinner you may find things a little awkward.

- He doesn't stop staring.

- He also always has that grin on his face with his cheeks dusted the lightest pink.

- If it wasn't obvious, your model has a thing for you.

- You're now eager to get dinner over with.

- Once it's done you go to exit the restaurant, just getting outside the door.

- Only for your model to grab your arm and pull you into him.

- "No one has to know about this, okay? We can keep this secret. I know it may seem unprofessional... I just can't stand it any longer. I need you and I know you need me too!"

- Your model then forces a kiss upon your lips, taking in the taste of your mouth before pulling away.

- Once you both go home, work becomes much more awkward.

- It's no longer smooth sailing.

- He always gives you a look, winking softly before chuckling.

- He's also been more moody towards his boss lately.

- You can't get the taste of him out of your mouth....

- You aren't sure what your future will be like after this.

- It's bad for business to be involved with your model.

- Yet it's not like he cares.

- You're his whether you like it or not.

- He's not willing to give you up even if you both lose your jobs, as long as he can love or have you the world can go to hell.

- "Who cares what they say? I love you, I want you, and I plan on having you, (Y/N)."

[sporticus1234]

Catch Me if You Can-Laws of Attraction (Part 2) 🍋

Summary: After weeks of flirting, teasing, and close calls, Tessa is ready to take the plunge, but can Gabe overcome his own worse fears and join her?

Pairing: Gabe Ricci x Main Character (Tessa Michaels)

Link to my Master-List and Other works will be added once they have been re-edited and re-uploaded.

Catch up with Part 1 Here: Part 1

WARNING: The following story has a  🍋 rating, meaning there will be topics of 

NSFW

Smut

Strong Language

By viewing of this work, you are acknowledging and consenting to the fact that you are 18+ years of age and can view such works.

Tagging:  @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythomas05-blog @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes  @suitfer @pixelnutrookie  @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @adiehardfan @panda9511 @curiousconch @weaving-in-words  @mm2305 @thegreentwin

I love you all so much, and I will see you again soon!

_________________________

If you hesitate, opportunities will pass by you So open your heart and come out      -Girls Generation, The Boys (Korean Ver.)

The hotel café the following morning was full of delicious, mouth-watering smells and buzzing conversations of the guests milling around, families excitedly planning for the day ahead or business associates discussing their upcoming ventures and other current events. In the back corner of the room next to the sheer curtains covering the early morning Boston sun, Gabe Ricci halfheartedly pokes his fork around the scrambled mess of eggs barely eaten in front of him, his head resting on a propped fist as his eyes struggle to stay open as a dull headache thumps in his head. He lifts his fork to take another bite of eggs, but his stomach lurches at the sight, and he drops the fork with a clatter. He reaches out to pour himself another cup of coffee, but he curses under his breath when he realizes the pot he ordered was empty. He tries to catch the attention of a passing waiter, but his eyes instead slide to a couple sitting a few tables away from him, their fingers laced together on the table as they share an intimate conversation punctuated by giggles and kisses across the other’s knuckles. The sight makes his stomach ache in guilt as the events of last night play like a never-ending repeat of a bad movie in his mind.

He knows there is no one else to blame; he is the one solely responsible for the shitty mess between him and Tessa. If he just gave her the obvious answer last night, he wouldn’t be sitting in the back corner on the verge of a hangover and close to passing out in his eggs. Instead, the two of them would be upstairs in his suite, her hair splayed out over one of the pillows as their limbs tangle together underneath the soft sheets draping over their naked bodies. Or, they would be eating breakfast in bed and watching the sun rise behind the towering skyscrapers as they share intimate little details about each other. Yet here he was, sitting down here and looking pathetically ridiculous as he stares a hole into his eggs like they held the answer to the question of why he was down here and not upstairs.

But Gabe already knows why he is sitting down here.

He is afraid that Tessa would reject him once things got serious.

Gabe Ricci, the man who stares down opposing attorneys and judges in a packed courtroom is afraid of something like rejection from a woman. The man who is confidently sure of himself and goes toe to toe with some of the greatest legal minds of the current day is afraid of being told “no.” The whole situation seems entirely laughable, and Gabe would completely understand if people saw it that way. But those people didn’t know about the one specific incident all those years ago that completely changed the course of his life and made him the way he is today.

Gabe considers himself to be an “all or nothing” person, devoting one hundred percent of himself to everything in his life, whether it was his job, himself, his relationships, and even his love life. It was his “all or nothing”, caring attitude that brought him to the door of the New York Public Defender’s office. Being a public defender was never going to be a smooth sailing job, but even with the obstacles in front of him, Gabe still defended his clients with everything he had. But at the end of the day, his “all or nothing” attitude was still not enough. He had little to no victories to back up his expertise and knowledge, and the passion he had for the legal field dwindled with every “guilty” verdict that felt like a swift punch to the gut. The workload was becoming overbearing with each passing year, and eventually, Gabe started questioning his own abilities and confidence. He found himself trapped in a never-ending nightmare with no chance of escape.

Even though his job was becoming a literal hell, he could always count on the one bright spot in his life at the time.

Katrina.

Katrina was everything Gabe hoped to find in a partner. She was kind, intelligent, caring. The two of them had an incredible whirlwind romance, and Gabe felt like he was walking on Cloud Nine when she was around. She was the one person who made everything feel better after a hard day. She was the one person who motivated him to push forward, encouraging him and giving him belief that one day, things would become better than what they were. She was the first person Gabe had met who he truly believed shared his same attitude of “all or nothing”, and their relationship grew more serious with each passing day. The future of their relationship came to a head one night in Central Park, where Gabe found himself on one knee in front of her with a glittering diamond ring in his hand, ready to fully go “all in” and spend the rest of his life with her. However, two little words made the intense romance they once shared fizzle out and leave his spirits firmly crushed. She rejected him in Central Park, and a week later, she moved out of his apartment and out of his life, the two of them unable to rekindle the romance they once shared despite their best efforts.

The pain of her rejection made him a closed-off shell of his former self. He never socialized after work or on the weekends unless he absolutely had to, and if he did, he hardly spoke to anyone unless the situation called for it. His work continued to suffer as he couldn’t find the heart and motivation to defend his clients as well as he knew he could. But one day after a trial, Sadie McGraw cornered him and offered him a second chance, a chance to start over and become the lawyer she knew he could become. With her help and guidance, Gabe slowly started rediscovering himself as a lawyer. The power she had given him combined with his knowledge and expertise pulled in big wins for the firm and moved him up towards the top ranks of McGraw Byrne. He was rediscovering his passion for the legal field and helping others. People began to congratulate him on his wins and praise his incredible devotion to the firm.

While he wouldn’t argue his devotion to the job, it wasn’t the sole reason he stayed long nights or came to work early in the morning. Every time he went back to his apartment after work, the sliver of happiness he felt and the boisterous conversations of the office became replaced by dreaded loneliness and cold quietness. The solitary confines of his apartment were a constant, mocking reminder of what he didn’t have anymore, a reminder of her rejection all those years ago. The office became a safe space of sorts for him, and he dreaded leaving its comfort. With the company’s generosity, Gabe secured a new, better apartment where he could make new memories and not be constantly reminded of bitter ones. The one thing the company couldn’t help him with was finding the one person who made him feel even a tenth of what Katrina made him feel. He never shied away from going out on dates as he attempted to move on with his life, but no one understood his passion, commitment, and devotion the way Katrina did. Plenty of people managed to catch his attention, but no one came close enough to keep it.

Until Tessa walked through the doors.

Gabe had discovered her the same way Sadie did, and he knew she would be a perfect addition to McGraw Byrne when Sadie opened up spots on the team. He had firsthand knowledge of her legal expertise, and he knew she fully devoted herself to her clients and used the knowledge she continued to learn in order to help them. However, while she managed to capture his attention, she was the only one who managed to keep it. She is incredibly beautiful; there was no denying that fact. But seeing her in action shined a completely different light on her. She goes above and beyond for her clients, and she willingly and gladly steps up and takes initiative when needed. She isn’t afraid to go toe-to-toe with some of the best attorneys in the state. Passion flows out of her like a waterfall, and it shows in her work. She is quick-witted and sharp, her eyes and mind never missing a single detail, and Gabe was not only impressed, but insanely captivated by her.

He initially didn’t think much of their constant flirting in the office or their dinner outings together, especially since Tessa flirted with the fireman for her eviction case. He was a little jealous she flirted with someone else, but since her flirting charmed the fireman into giving her more information than needed, she pulled in a massive win for the firm, and Gabe simply brushed it off and chalked up the flirting as part of her charm. It wasn’t until the cancelled business dinner that Gabe realized what was between them was more than just their typical flirting. He was catching real feelings for her, no matter how much he tried to deny it. While he did acknowledge his feelings for her, his heart was still too guarded and afraid to act on them. Tessa was the first girl he had serious feelings for since Katrina left him. He didn’t know if Tessa even felt the same way he did, nor did he know if he would be able to repair it again if his relationship with Tessa ended the same way like Katrina.

But deep down in his gut, he knew that Tessa was different from Katrina. It was a feeling he couldn’t put a logical reason on, but a gut feeling, one that you just know is true even if you couldn’t explain it. She was the first person Gabe felt genuinely happy with in a long time. Gabe not only believed in a future with her, he could also picture it. Everything he pictured and every interaction they have together doesn’t feel awkward or forced. It feels natural and…right. Aside from that, Tessa showed time and time again that she wants to be with him. If she didn’t, she would’ve turned down every invitation he gave her, and she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to make sure they spend a few moments alone together whenever they can. Tessa already made her feelings about him clear last night, and she was ready to risk the opportunity at becoming partner at one of the country’s premier law firms. She was more than willing to risk it if it meant having him.

Could he really do the same and risk his comfort for her?

_________________________

The morning sun spills into the living room of the hotel suite as the remains of Tessa’s in-room breakfast lay scattered across the coffee table. A re-run of celebrity chef Everett Flynt’s new TV show plays in the background as she busies herself in the bathroom, putting on the last touches of preparations for the day ahead. Once satisfied with her appearance, she pads back out into the bedroom and opens the closet to find an outfit for the day. When her fingers graze the powder blue dress she wore to the cocktail party last night, her task becomes forgotten as her mind flashes back to the night before, her stomach aching at the bitter taste of the memory.

The weekend conference had started off so well with everyone laughing and joking like the best of friends. The cocktail party went off without a hitch, and she managed to score some huge connections with distinguished judges and other lawyers. Everything about the weekend was absolutely perfect, until she decided to stick around and have a late-night snack and drink with Gabe and confessed her harbored feelings toward him. Looking back, the idea to share them was not one of her finer moments; she was certain Gabe and her would take the next steps of their relationship after confessing their feelings for each other, but instead, Gabe did the same thing he always does when they get close to crossing a line. He quickly doused the growing flame and pushed her away once again.

She grabs an outfit from the closet and starts getting dressed, her eyes glancing over at her bed and seeing a few jet-black streaks on the pillowcase, a reminder of what happened last night after she walked away from him. But it also reminds her she can’t keep running back to him and giving him chance after chance. As much as it hurts to walk away from him and what they potentially could have, she knows deep down she will be better off in the long run for doing so. She couldn’t open her heart and let someone inside only to have him lock her out of his. It was Gabe’s turn to return the favor, and this time, his words were no longer going to be enough. It was time for his actions to match his words and feelings, and until they did, Tessa has to move forward with her life.

She finishes getting dressed and fixes the loose strands of hair that got out of place. She glances at the alarm clock on her nightstand, seeing it is still too early for the company cars to come take them back to New York. Just as she was about to lounge on the couch and distract herself with Everett Flynt’s TV show, a loud knock reverberates through the space.

It couldn’t be…could it?

Mind curious, she makes her way over to the door and peeks out of the peephole, her stomach flipping circles as her pulse quickens at the sight of Gabe standing right behind the door. She takes a deep breath and opens the door to see him standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets and his feet shuffling nervously. His actions make her more nervous than excited; Gabe normally acts so confident and sure of himself, and to see him act completely not himself makes tension creep into her thoughts.

“Hi…” Gabe says with a rare, bashful smile as he flicks his eyes down to his shoes. “Can we…” he rubs the back of his neck, “can we talk?”

Seeing him in front of her makes her feel the sting of his rejection all over again, and she has half a mind to slam the door in his face and finally give him a taste of how it feels to be rejected. But when he lifts his eyes towards her, her heart twinges in sympathy. The trademark, mischievous twinkle in his eye is no longer there, and his shoulders look like they’re carrying the weight of the world on them.

“Please…” he quietly pleads.

He’s making the effort you wanted him to make she reminds herself. With a sigh, she gives him a small, almost inscrutable nod, and Gabe flashes her a soft, grateful smile as he shuffles past her, their arms brushing against each other. Tessa tries to force down the warm prick she felt as she shuts the door behind him and follows him to the living room, making sure to keep plenty of space between them, knowing that if she didn’t, she would never get the answers to her questions. Gabe takes a look around the room, taking in the half-eaten breakfast and the way she stands with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, the space between them feeling like a chasm as guilt blooms in his chest again. The air was filling with cold tension, and Gabe awkwardly clears his throat, eyes darting around to find something to break the quiet spell.

His eyes land on the TV, and he jumps at the opportunity it presents. “Taste of the World? Isn’t this the episode where Everett runs away from the show and the culinary producer he obviously has feelings for?”

“Seems fitting, doesn’t it?” Tessa blurts out with a humorless guffaw. Gabe flinches at the sting of her words, and she squeezes her eyes shut in regret, cursing at herself under her breath. As upset as she is, Gabe made the first move. The least she could do is hear him out. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I didn’t…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Gabe cuts in. “I deserve that and much more.” He takes a step closer to her, and when she doesn’t back up, he continues. “In any case, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault.”

“Maybe it is my fault,” Tessa concedes. “I was being too pushy and trying to force an answer out of you that you clearly weren’t ready to tell me.” She uncrosses her arms and drops them back to her sides, a sign that Gabe takes as a good one.

“You weren’t being pushy, Tessa. You were only being honest with me, and no one should ever be blamed for being honest. And you’re right. The show is fitting considering I’m the one who keeps running away when it’s the last thing I want to do.”

The harsh expression on her face softens into mild surprise. Was he fixing to tell her the real reason he keeps running away? “Gabe, all I want to know is why do you keep running when it’s clear that you and I both want this?”

Gabe swallows the lump in his throat, the memory of her rejection rearing its ugly head again. “Because that’s exactly what she did.”

Tessa furrows her brows. “Who’s she?”

“Katrina.”

“Who’s Katrina?” After a long pause, the lightbulb goes off in her head, and her eyes widen in recognition. “Oh…” Her mind goes back to the night of the business dinner and the far-off look Gabe had in his eyes at her question of commitment.

“Even in this city?” she asks him in pure surprise. “You’ve really never found someone who’s as all-in as you are?”

Gabe looks across the glittering skyline of New York. “I thought I had, once…” he turns his attention back to her, and Tessa can see the unspoken memory fade from his eyes, “but that was a long time ago. And as it turns out, I was wrong about her.”

“How…” she swallows hard, her heart aching in sympathy for him. “How bad was it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Gabe scratches his stubbled chin and lets out a humorless, bitter chuckle. “Let’s just say I can’t get a refund on the ring anymore.”

Her eyes widen into the size of saucers, and her jaw drops open in complete shock. His actions and words suddenly became much more understandable. It explained why Gabe kept running away and avoided crossing the line between playful flirting and serious romance. He thought if he didn’t cross those lines and reject her first, she was going to be the one to do it eventually. He refused to act on his feelings because the last time he did, Katrina rejected his proposal and left him. Gabe didn’t build the walls around his heart to keep her out. He built them because he was afraid history was going to repeat itself, and he chose to live in his own little bubble of comfort instead of taking another risk, and Tessa couldn’t blame him one bit for it.

“I’m really sorry she did that to you, Gabe.” Her feet move closer to him, the space becoming smaller. “I had no idea.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushes off. “I’ve moved on from it. In any case, her rejection changed my life for the better. If she didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be at McGraw Byrne in the first place, and I never would’ve met you.”

Tessa fidgets with her ring. “Gabe…” she begins, but quickly trails off.

“What?” he asks her. “You know you can say or tell me anything right?”

“I know, but…” she takes another deep breath, forcing herself to say what she was thinking. “Do you really have feelings for me?”

“Absolutely,” Gabe says, no hesitation in his voice. It makes her heart flutter a bit.

“Have I given you any reason to doubt my feelings for you?”

“No.”

“So even knowing all that, you still choose to run away,” she says matter-of-factly.

Gabe flinches at her words, tucking his gaze away from her. “Yes.”

“Then you haven’t moved on. Not entirely at least.”

Gabe’s eyes snap over to hers as he furrows his brows. “What?”

Tessa sighs. “Look Gabe. You’re absolutely right. If Katrina hadn’t rejected your proposal, we never would’ve crossed paths in a hundred years. But…”

“But what?”

“You still let what she did control you,” Tessa points out. “You say that you’ve moved on, but have you really? I mean, just take a look at what happened last night. The minute we started talking about getting serious, you quickly pushed me away and ran. You did the same thing in Vegas, and you did the same thing at the business dinner too.”

Gabe runs his hand through his hair. “I know I did, and I will always regret my actions. But I’m willing to give us a chance if you still want that. I like you so much, Tessa, and I know the two of us have something special that is worth so much more than a partnership or my insecurities.”

She eyes him curiously. “And what happens if I do give you a chance, Gabe? Are you going to run again?”

“Absolutely not,” Gabe says firmly, his deep tone making her skin jump in shock. “I’m done running away, Tessa. For good.”

Butterflies flood her stomach as her heart swells at his words, but the sensations only make her feel more guilty for what she was about to say. “Gabe, you’re saying all the right words, and I want to believe them so badly. I really do. But…”

The hopeful expression on his face slowly fades as icy dread floods his veins. “But you can’t?”

Tessa nods dejectedly. “I’m sorry, Gabe. But until you actually show me instead of telling me that you really are done running, and that you really want there to be an ‘us’, we can’t…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Gabe takes two quick strides over to her, the space between them shrinking as he gently cups her cheeks in his hands. His thumbs run over her cheekbones, and she instinctively submits to his touch, her mind already forgetting its previous thoughts and focusing solely on the soft, tender caress of his thumbs. She can smell the sharp and heady scent of his cologne, the one that makes her want to bury her face in his chest and breathe him in. She can see each individual eyelash and the sparkling mixture of nerves and pure determination in his eyes. The little puffs of breath from his lips tickle her skin, and her blood rushes and pounds in her ears as she finds herself slipping into his warm, chocolate orbs.

“What…what are you doing?” she asks over the sound of her heart thundering in her chest.

He brings their faces closer together, only centimeters between them. “What I should’ve done a long time ago.”

_________________________

The walls Gabe spent years hiding his heart behind start to crumble as he closes the last inch of space between them. He tentatively presses his lips against hers, a spark of electricity racing through her that makes her scalp prickle. The initial shock of his kiss makes her tense up, a small little whimper coming from her lips, but soon, she finds herself melting into the kiss when Gabe presses his lips firmer to hers. His lips feel like velvet, moving slowly and sensually against hers as her eyes flutter close and her body surrenders to his dizzying kiss. Her arms slide up around his shoulders and tease the little hairs on the back of his neck while he grips her waist and pulls her closer to him, his hand snaking up underneath her shirt and lightly pressing into the bare skin of her lower back. A rush of warmth spreads throughout her body from his touch, and Tessa lets out a small little moan when Gabe gently nibbles on her bottom lip and breaks the kiss. Their foreheads touch together, their breaths mixing as all their unspoken feelings and desires pass between them in this silent, intimate moment.

She shyly bites her lip and looks up at him through her lashes only to see him smiling back down at her, his eyes a swirling cocktail of happy relief and fiery desire. Since growing closer to him, she often caught herself wondering when their first kiss was going to happen and what it would be like, and she would gladly admit the real thing was so much better than her imagination and thoughts. It was full of sensual desire, yet sweet tenderness. It was warm and comforting, yet intoxicating and thrilling. It was gentle, yet confident and sure. It was a kiss full of everything she associated with the man holding her in his arms.

“Now do you believe me?” he asks her as he nuzzles his nose with hers. His voice is laced with his signature cockiness, but Tessa detects a slight hint of worry underneath it.

“I think I need a little more convincing than that.” She was more than convinced Gabe meant what he said earlier, but she found some fun in teasing him a little longer. She considers it playful revenge for making her wait all this time for him to finally acknowledge his feelings.

A low groan vibrates in his throat at the floodgate Tessa’s words opens up inside him, and both of them know there is no going back after this. The tip of his tongue darts out and silkily caresses his lower lip as his eyes darken more, the passion and desire he kept locked away and hidden now flowing through his veins and taking control of his thoughts and actions. Tessa shudders at the sound of his groan and the carnal look in his eye, her nerves switching to high alert as the air buzzes with excitement. His hands snake around her waist and down to her ass, pulling her hard against him and relishing in the feel of her body against his. His firm, hard bulge presses into the apex of her thighs, and she feels it grow harder with each passing second. She subtly grinds her hips into the hardness, a pleasant rush of heat pooling between her legs as soft groans fill the surrounding air.

All of his previous fears and doubts dash out of his mind as he firmly crushes his lips to hers in a searing, heated kiss, molding and shaping her lips to his every whim and wish. Her knees wobble at the sudden assault, but his strong arms wrapped around her waist hold her up securely as the air sparks like a colorful firework and showers them in a bright rainbow of light. Her body molds perfectly into his, like two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly in the picture. Her mind goes dizzy with delight as her hands run over his clothed chest and come to rest on his sculpted shoulders. He shifts his hips ever so slightly, and the friction makes Tessa groan in pleasant surprise. Gabe takes advantage and lightly teases his tongue with hers as the two of them deepen the kiss. When their lungs scream for much-needed air, he sinks his teeth into her bottom lip and tugs it back, breaking the kiss and leaving them gasping for air.

“Convincing…enough for…you?” he asks her. “Or do…you need a…another sign?”

Her fingers draw lazy heart-shapes over his own heart, feeling it thunder beneath her touch. “I think…I need a little…more.”

She coquettishly flutters her eyelashes and delicately pulls her lower lip between her teeth. The sight makes his cock twitch and punch against the tight confines of his pants, needy and begging for some type of relief, preferably from her. He wraps his fingers around her wrist, halting her movements. Their eyes lock on each other, and slowly, Gabe moves her hand down his torso. She feels the muscles of his stomach subtly flexing and tightening in anticipation, even through the layers of fabric between them. He reaches his belt buckle and stops the movement, his eyes and action asking her the question she already knows the answer to. She gives him a nod, excitement filling up her stomach and making the butterflies flutter. She holds her breath as Gabe guides her hand past his belt buckle, the air becoming thick with anticipation. When her hand finally brushes over his bulge and feels it twitch, the air rushes out of her. Her finger teasingly traces the outline of his bulge, and Gabe sucks in a sharp breath. When she cups him through his pants, the muscles in his jaw tick, head lolling back with a hiss as he surrenders to the sensation of her gentle squeezes.

She runs her palm up and down over his bulge, feeling his cock grow harder and punch painfully against his zipper. With another firmer squeeze of his bulge, the chain holding him back breaks, and with a groan that sounds almost like a growl, their lips find each other again, the built-up passion and desire flowing unrestrained between them as their hands wander and roam over each other’s bodies. Their kisses break momentarily as Gabe’s sweater is pulled off his body and Tessa’s top goes flying across the room. Her fingers try to unbutton his shirt, but when his lips trail down across her jaw and down to the sensitive skin of her neck, she momentarily says “fuck it” and rips open his shirt, the buttons flying across the room and ricocheting off the walls and freeing his naked chest to her greedy fingers. He slides the shirt off his body and tosses it with a groan, feeling more turned on than angry at her action. His lips trail back up across her jaw and find her lips again, their tongues dancing together as the kiss deepens and becomes even more erotic and sensual. Her hands caress over his naked torso, the memory of every dip, ridge, and flex of his muscles becoming firmly ingrained in her mind.

Fantasies from long ago are now becoming real. Any semblance of time and reality escapes them. All that mattered is this moment between them. A moment neither of them wants to end. Ever.

“Gabe…” she mumbles between kisses. “You. Bedroom. Now.” Her fingers slide down his abs until they reach the sensitive sliver of skin hidden just behind the waistband of his pants. When shuddering goosebumps flare up over his skin, he grabs her wrist and halts her movement.

“Wait…” Gabe groans after giving her another kiss. “Are you sure…you want to do this? Because once we start…I don’t ever want it to end.”

The desire and longing in his voice is unmistakable. “Wh…what?”

“I just…” Gabe shakes his head, trying to get his words right. “I don’t want you to do anything or commit to anything you might regret later on,” he tells her. “I want this to happen so much. You know how bad I want you right now, but I understand completely if you don’t want—"

She tugs him forward by his belt and places a hard, chaste kiss to his lips, effectively cutting off his rambling spell. “Gabe, I wouldn’t have given you my keycard if I didn’t want this to happen.” She kisses the tip of his chin, the stubble scratching her lips. “I want this, Gabe.” She presses a kiss on his chest, right over his heart, and the action takes his breath away. “I want you. Only you.”

His grin grows bigger at her admission. “You’re the only one I want too,” he replies, trailing his finger lightly across her jaw that has her shivering in joy.

Her hands slide back up his torso and wind around his neck, deviousness flashing in her eyes. She hops up and wraps her legs around his waist, his strong arms flexing and catching her without missing a single beat. “Then take me into the bedroom and prove it, Ricci.”

He gives her a smoldering look, and with another moan, his lips kiss the hollow of her throat and trail over to her collarbone, his hands squeezing her ass teasingly and eliciting a gasp from her. She rolls her head back and submits to his scorching kisses and kitten bites on her neck as he makes the short journey into the bedroom. He pulls his lips away from her, and with a wolfish grin and a devilish wink, he tosses her onto the giant bed. Tessa senses the shift in dynamic between them at the sudden, but very much wanted, powerful surge of dominance from him. Seeing him confidently take charge was such a turn-on for her and makes warm tendrils coil and tighten in her core. Gabe quickly toes off his shoes while she sheds her shorts and playfully tosses them in his direction with a giggle. He chuckles at her playfulness and snatches them out of the air. When he turns his attention back to her, her shorts slip out of his grasp as his eyes widen in surprise, his cock twitching in extreme pleasure and appreciation at the sight in front of him.

“Fucking. Hell.” He groans, voice gravelly and filled with lust.

His hand reaches down and palms his cock as he drinks in Tessa kneeling in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing except her lacy plunge bra and matching panties as her hair falls over one of her eyes. The sight was so much hotter than the one in his fantasies, and he couldn’t wait to rip away the thin fabric and fully see what she was hiding beneath it. She beckons him with a manicured finger, and with the invitation, Gabe hurriedly climbs onto the bed and drapes his hard body overs hers as he kisses her relentlessly. Her peaked nipples brush up against his chest through the tight confines of her bra, pulsing and begging for his attention. He shifts his weight over to one side, propping himself on his forearm as Tessa wraps her arms around his neck. His other hand slides up her side and finds her breast; Gabe softly squeezes and massages it, his thumb and index finger teasing her nipple through the fabric and making it tight with pressure. A jolt of pleasure surges through her when Gabe pinches her nipple, a rush of electricity traveling through her and making her toes curl.

Her hand slides down and pushes on his shoulder, the weight and control shifting as Gabe falls to his back and Tessa drapes her legs over him to straddle his hips, feeling his hard bulge press against her center. She braces herself on the solid planes of his chest, feeling his heartbeat race wildly and his eyes burning holes into her skin as she grinds her hips against him, a smirk fighting its way onto her face as his soft moans and groans fill the room like a symphony and wrap around her like a blanket. Gabe flutters his eyes closed, succumbing to the incredible sensation of her hips moving over his cock. While he normally is the one to take control and dominate in the bedroom, seeing her on top of him, her hips giving him just the right amount of agonizing friction, and being completely at her mercy is the sexiest thing he has ever seen.

When he opens his eyes again, Tessa sees them glazed over with pure lust and unbridled attraction for her, the magnetic energy washing over both of them. “Goddamn…” he hoarsely whispers, the lust in his voice making tingles spiral down her spine. 

“See something you like?” she coyly asks him.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t like this.” His fingers toy with the lacy waistband of her panties, occasionally dipping underneath and teasing the sensitive skin before caressing down her thighs. “I fucking love it. I think you look…oh shit…” his train of thought trails off as she shifts her hips again, sending another wave of bliss washing over him. “I think you look so goddamn sexy.”

The compliment makes liquid heat pool in her core as the air floods with heated desire and erotic passion. She lightly digs her fingernails into his solid chest, seeing the muscles flex before scratching down his torso, sending another shudder through him. “Mmm…having thoughts about me, are you?”

Gabe cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, I have plenty of thoughts about you. All of them dirty.” His hands stop their teasing caresses and travel up her thighs. “You in my bed begging for me.” His fingers graze over her panties, pulling back the waistband and letting it go with a light snap that makes her gasp. “You wet and pressed up against the wall in my shower.” His hands ghost up her sides until they reach her breasts. “You bent over my desk in my office.” He cups her breasts and flicks the peaked nipples straining underneath the fabric. “You on top just like this, riding me. Hard.”

The images flash through her mind, and the muscles in her core tighten in excitement at the possibility of making all of his fantasies come true. “Who knew Gabe Ricci had such dirty thoughts, or that he likes being controlled,” she tells him as her back arches and her chest pushes further into his massaging hands.

One of his hands snakes up behind her back and expertly undoes the clasp on her bra before carelessly tossing it across the room. “Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you’re in control.”

She arches an eyebrow at the challenge in his tone. Her hands wrap around his wrists, and with a flash of devious intent, she pins his wrists into the mattress above his head, her breasts hovering teasingly over him, just far enough out of his reach. “Aren’t I though?” she grinds against him again, the friction making their skin hot.

The tip of his tongue darts out and silkily swipes over his lips, her eyes transfixing on the movement. The slight distraction is just enough for Gabe to flip her over and pin her underneath him again. The loose tendrils of his hair cover his eyes, a few strands plastered to his slick forehead, giving him a wild and untamed look, and the look makes her squirm as the muscles in her core tighten. “Told you I was in control,” he shoots back. He dips his head down and teasingly kisses her lips, pulling away before she could deepen it. He guides her arms up and pins them above her head. “Keep them there,” he commands.

“What if I don’t?” she asks him. “What are you going to do about it?”

Gabe groans. “Let’s just say that I reward good behavior and punish bad behavior.” He smirks at her. “But something tells me you enjoy punishments far too much, so I guess I’ll have to come up with something a little different.”

His lips attach to the warm pulse point of her neck, and Tessa sinks into the mattress like it is a warm pool of blissful pleasure. He kisses down the muscle of her neck before licking a wet stripe back up the length of it and giving it little nips and bites as he trails back down. He leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone until he reaches the hollow of her throat. The tip of his tongue traces the outline before placing a kiss directly in the middle of it, and Tessa sucks in a sharp breath. He shifts his body downward as his kisses travel across her chest and down to her breast. He kisses and slowly licks wet circles around her breast, leaving no inch of skin untouched as he comes closer and closer to her nipple with each circle, and Tessa groans at his methodical torture as her nipples throb in pleasure. When he places a kiss directly on her peaked nipple, the air rushes out of her in a moan that sends vibrations flooding through his veins and directly to his cock.

He draws her nipple between his lips and sucks on it while his other hand kneads and molds her other breast, giving her the relief she has been craving from him. He alternates his movements, from sucking on her nipple to giving it gentle little nips and swirls of his tongue while his fingers tug and roll her other nipple. He sharply bites down on her nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue, and Tessa arches hard off the bed at the sweet torture. He shifts his body again as he releases the nipple from his mouth and kisses his way over to her other breast. He gives it the same agonizing torture as the other until both are even more swollen and throbbing. Her hands clench into fists as her eyes squeeze shut, fighting the urge to touch him as every little nip and suck makes her squirm in pleasure.

The tip of his tongue trails down through the valley between her breasts, the action sending blood rushing through her body and making heat pool in her core. As much as she tries to fight it, Tessa gives into the urge to move her hand, and she reaches out and threads her fingers in his dark, soft hair. Immediately, his hand wraps around her wrist and pins it back above her head, and she giggles in spite of herself. He glances up at her through his lashes, and Tessa can see the raw power in them. He kisses his way back up, tongue darting out briefly to flick over her nipples again, and over the hollow of her throat. He softly nips at the center of her neck and traces her jaw with teasing breaths until she feels his hot breath on the shell of her ear, goosebumps flaring up over her skin.

“And you were doing so well,” Gabe murmurs in her ear as he traces the shell of her ear with his tongue.

“You know I don’t do well following the rules.”

He nips at her earlobe. “Then I’m going to make you follow the rules.” He swings his leg over her and climbs out of the bed, her body already missing his warmth. “Don’t move,” he commands. “I’ll be right back.”

He pads out of the room, leaving Tessa lying there a building mess of excitement and nervousness. She hears Gabe mutter a curse before the sound of the TV is cut off, and she giggles at the absurdity of it. She strains her ears to hear anything else, but the only sounds she can make out are soft rustling of fabric and little clinks like glass. After a few more moments that felt like an eternity, Gabe knocks on the frame of the door, and she shifts up onto her elbows to see him standing there, his lips kinked to the side in a smirk and devilish intentions dancing in his eyes. He holds up his hands, and Tessa sees a glass filled with ice cubes in one hand and the belt to the complimentary bathrobe in the other. The thought of what Gabe was planning to do to her with those two items has her quivering in delight.

“I hope you’re ready, Tessa,” Gabe says. “Because we’re going to have some fun.”

_________________________

A/N

So hello everyone! I know this took a lot longer than anticipated, but unfortunately, life decided to throw a curveball at me recently, so I am very sorry for the delay.

For those who might guess, when I finished the 2nd part, it again turned into another 15k mess, so you all will be getting a Part 3 shortly, where we’ll go into even more of some smutty goodness and some fluffy pillow talk.

I hope you all really enjoy it as much as you did for part 1, and I will see you all soon for the finale!

Second chance tagging in case Tumblr becomes Tumbroke again:  @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes  @suitfer  @pixelnutrookie @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @adiehardfan @panda9584 @curiousconch @weaving-in-words @mm2305 @thegreentwin

[cuddlesslut]

Live my Life Ch.1

Kuroo x fem reader

Summary: sometimes life is full of making the wrong choices and not knowing till it’s to late.

A/N: this is chapter one of my new story. I’m still writing the Home series I must really wanted to start this story as well. I hope you guys like this one.

Warning: Angst, Smut, Drunk Sex, Underage drinking, toxic behavior

You found yourself sitting in this dingy bar nursing a drink you weren’t supposed to have. This had become part of your routine. It all started about three weeks ago. Your friend Kana, or well you suppose she could be called a friend she was more of a friend of a friend. She seemed nice enough kind of the free spirit type of girl always into the new big trend, not really what you would describe yourself as, more of what you wanted to be. You weren’t exactly some shy shut in but still your anxieties held you back from charging head first into in life and taking the bull by the horns. That’s why you surprised even yourself when you offered to be Kana’s bar buddy.

Kana is bartender at this whole in the wall bar with dim lighting. It got fairly good business but not enough to warrant more than one bartender at a time. That being the case Kana would often be there by herself well late into the night, the neighborhood wasn’t horrible but it still was unsettling sometimes. So as her bar buddy you would come at some point in her shift and find a free seat at the bar hopefully far enough distance from any other patrons. You’d order some fries or whatever greasy snack food you craved and waited there with her while she worked until she was ready to lock up. It was pretty easy you’d just sit there offering her someone to talk when she was bored or when she need to escape some overbearing customers. She’d make her way over too you and pretend to make you a drink. Although she offered you a drink you usually turn her down for the clear fact that you were underage when it came to drinking. It was perfectly fine for you to sit in the establishment since it also served food but at the age of 18 drinking was still prohibited. Being the laid back girl and bartender she was Kana didn’t care about bending that rule for a friend.

Most nights you’d pull out some school work on your tablet that your carried with you or just read some stories on your phone. Usually trying your best to avoid conversation with the regulars. That didn’t work as well as you hoped and soon enough you were quickly learning all of the local gossip and being included in the group known as the regulars. Which is what you were since you found yourself here four nights out of you week. You didn’t mind spending so much of your time here with Kana it was kind of nice to stray from your comfort zone plus you and Kana were steadily getting closer as friends too. Everything was smooth sailing until you met him.

It was a usual Thursday night you got dressed in your causal but sleek outfit. Wearing a comfortable pair of Jeans that hugged your body nicely not too tight but still showed your curves. You paired it with a black blouse and black ankle boots. You freshened up your make up of the day not needing to try to hard seeing as you weren’t going there to impress anyone. In fact you preferred to not draw any attention. Your brushed through your hair finally heading out of your home and too the dingy bar. Things seemed a little off tonight some felt different but still you took your usual seat as you scanned the bar. It was fairly empty only two other customers sitting all the way at the other end of the counter. Kana wasn’t anywhere to be found, she’s probably just grabbing something back you reasoned. And sure enough you could hear a clang in the back of the establishment that was hidden from the public eye. Although it wasn’t Kana that popped around the corner. Instead stood a tall and extremely handsome guy. He was wild black hair that was strewn in a chaotic fashion but it suited him. You could tell by his physique that he was fit , not too overly muscular but when he reached up to put the box he was carrying on the top shelf you could see a peak of a very well defined v line on his tanned skin. This man was the definition of tall, dark ,and handsome. And that wasn’t even mentioning his intense honey eyes that felt like they pierced your soul with just one look. He wore a black pair of fitted jeans and a red button up with strange print on it. You could inspect the odd design more intensely as he approached you with a smirk plastered on his face. Ah they were little black cats that littered his print. The style screamed I’m stylish but quirky.

“Well hello there sweetheart how can I help you?” You could tell he was using his customer service persona. Ah he goes for the smooth talkng flirt, he probably does very well with middle aged woman, you think.

“Um yeah,” you state giving the room one more look “ do you know where Kana is?” You questioned.

His perked at the mention of your friend. You could see him relax a little as he released some tension rolling his shoulders back. “Ahh you must be YN,” he smiled placing his hands on the bar leaning forward. His voice was a notch higher no longer Using his deep Casanova tone, this one was more natural. You eyes widened at the sound of your name leaving his lips.

“Yeah,” you replied hesitant.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” he presented his hand offering a firm shake to which you awkwardly accepted. “I’m guessing Kana forgot to inform you that id becoming back to work my usual Thursday shift today did she?” He let out a small chuckle.

Damn it Kana you cursed inside your mind. You could have been cozy in bed right now. “Ha nope she did not,” you let out a sigh. “I didn’t realize she was just covering these last few weeks” you respond.

“She just had my Thursday shift Mondays and Wednesdays are still her regular days.” He grinned “she was nice enough to take my shift while I was out with some family stuff.”

“Ahh I see, well I’ll should probably get out of your hair,” you stated starting to slide off the stool.

“Hey wait you came all the way out here let me get you a drink,” he offered.

You froze in your seat for a moment kind of embarrassed. You felt heat creep to your face as you respond “ oh umm I’m not actually old enough I’m only 18,” your eye locked on the surface in front of you.

He let out a chuckle “let me see your ID.”

Your face scrunched in confusion “but-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Shh just hand it over,” he smiles. You raise your eyebrow as you reach into your handbag fishing out your ID and handing it over. He backs upmholding it as though it was valid. “Well look at that! Sure enough you’re 20,” he gives a cheeky smile “so what can I get you to drink?”

You take back your card placing it back safely in your bag a look of shock present on your youthful features. You lean forward whispering “won’t you get in trouble!” Not wanting to have someone risk their job. He lets out a haughty laugh. “My dads the owner so I’m not too worried.” He stated cockily. “So again what are you drinking sweetheart?” Again he flashed that stupid smirk that sent your stomach doing flips.

After two drinks and some idle chit chat in his free time you decided it probably be best if you headed out. He was quick to stop you. “Ahh come on dont leave so soon I was hoping you’d be my bar buddy too,” he pouted. You rolled your eyes at his teasing. It was enough to keep you there though ordering another drink to nurse. It felt nice chatting and casually flirting with this attractive stranger.

This too became part of your routine. You still went to the bar during Kana’s shift to keep her company but you kept going on Thursday and spending you night talking to Kuroo. The both of you spending most of the night getting to know each other. It was just surface things like school, you found out he was two years older than you going to a university near by studying chemical engineering,and your taste in music which was something you had a lot in common. The conversation focused mainly on you. He always directed the flow of the conversation he was so out going and smooth, always asking questions about your day liked hearing about your day as if being a 3rd year in high school was the most exciting thing. You’d sit there for hours with him trying new drinks sometimes finding yourself leaving the bar at three am as if you didn’t have class in four hours. But you didn’t care it was exhilarating this was the most rebellious thing you had ever done. The flirting was harmless never going to far. And although you wouldn’t admit you were getting a crush on the raven haired bartender.

It was just another Wednesday night but today something inside of you told you to dress up more than you’d usually go for. Tonight you wore a simple black dress with a deep neckline that really showed your figure without being to flashy. Your period had recently finished so knowing you were securely dried up you decided to go for a pair of your fancy red lace panties and a matching bra that always boosted your confidence. Not that anyone would be seeing them. You checked yourself one last time before heading out to the bar and damn did you look hot.

When you entered the bar you were surprised to it was rather busy with customers all over the place, luckily you find a seat at the bar. You noticed that Kenma was also behind the bar. Kenma was the other bartender that worked the shifts opposite of Kana and Kuroo. He was also Kuroo’s best friend. You’ve only met him a couple times when he’d come to the bar to see Kuroo while he was on shift. It must be really busy if they called him in to work the bar with Kana.

Kana gave a sigh of relief and smiled as she saw you sitting at the bar. “Oh my god girl hey,” smiled “do you see how hectic it is?” She laughed. She took a moment to fully look you over her eyes wide.

“Damn girl you look fucking hot!” You felt some pride grow in you hearing your friend complement you. She always looked amazing so hearing that she thought you looked great felt like high praise.

“You want a drink babe?” She asked although it was more a of statement as she was already whipping together a drink before you were finished nodding. She handed you a strong yet sweet drink before she was whisked away by some needy patrons.

You sipped on your drink watching Kana handle the crowd. You and Kenmas eyes would lock every now and then but it’s very short and awkward. You don’t know him very well. Part of your anxieties had you convinced he didn’t like you. But you tried not to read into it to much. Kuroo had told you once that it was just that he wasn’t much of a people person only working at the bar as a favor to Kuroo and his father. You sit there silently observing the world around you not noticing someone taking the seat next to you.

“Boo,” a husky voiced whispered into your ear sending shivers down your spine. Kuroo cackled as you jumped turning around clutching your chest.

“What the hell Kuroo!” You gasped trying to steady your breathing. “They call you in too?” You ask referring to the booming business you sat in.

“Nah it’s my day off and I wanted to come have a drink and bug Kenma,” he rose his hand singling said man for a drink. “But looks like I lucked out now I get to bother you all night,” he smirked.

“Oh really and who said I want to have you around I deal with you enough on Thursdays,” you smiled back with a sly look.

He feigned a look of hurt. “Ouch YN you wound me, I thought we were friends,” giving you look that definitely didn’t come off as just friendly. You just roll your eyes trying to hide your intrigue. “Well it seems I need to prove my friendship to you let me by you a drink.” He rested his hand on yours as he signaled for a refill on your drink.

You should have seen it coming but you acted surprised when after several drinks and a couple rounds of shots you found yourself in the back seat of his car. Your red panties tossed to the side somewhere in the vehicle. You were laying back as he dove under the hem your dress. Kuroo looked up to your face his lips barley an inch away from your heat. He had a devious look on his face as he watched your face flush with need. Your lips were swollen from the heated make out sessions you had outside the bar. He quirked his eyebrow teasingly his heavy breath tickling you. He was waiting. It was almost tortuous but you knew what he wanted.

You pouted your chest rising and falling from your hard breathing. “Please!” You begged. He smiled content with hearing your pleas before diving into you his tongue lapping at your wet folds. Your head fell back in pleasure as he ate you out like a man starved. Your moans filled the car as he worked his skilled tongue in and out of you. He could feel how close you were as he felt you clench around his fingers as he worked you loose. Relief flooded your body as you came on his face. Lust still flooding you as you watched him lick up all your juices. He moved up your body sealing your lips into a searing kiss you could taste your essence on his lips.

Your hands reached down his body grabbing at his bulge. He let out a groan in your ear before picking you up and placing you on his lap. He attacked you neck nippping and sucking harsh purple marks into your skin. He pulled the collar of your dress down pulling your breast out . Moving your bra down he latched his lips around your swollen nipple rolling it between his teeth. You let out a pained moan as you rolled you hips into his lap. He finally hit limit. He lifted you up as he pulled his pants and boxers down before lining his achingly hard length with your wet cunt before pulling you down on it. Both of your groans filled the space as you felt him fill you whole. You hid your face in his neck as you panted while he let you adjust to the intrusion. You could feel his hands roaming your ass pushing the skirt of your dress up. A sudden smack came to your ass. You let out a hiss. He rubbed the mark he left on your soft skin.

“Go ahead sweetheart ride my cock,” he demanded. His dirty words sent shivers over body. You did just as he said starting to move your hips up and down rotating on his dick as it reached deep inside of you. Your body was already on edge from your earlier release so it took no time to have you clenching tightly around him you next orgasm fastly approaching.

“Fuck you’re so god damn tight,” he groaned. Lust took over as he grabbed your hips holding you still as he drilled up into your pliant body. Your moans egged him on as he chased both of your climaxes. He loved the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him. Feeling you milk his cock drained him of his will and of his semen as he came deep into you.

You both sat there for a moment both coming down from your highs. Bodies worn from the intense session you had just had. He groaned throughing his head back, “fuck I didn’t wear a condom,” he cursed.

“I’m on birth control” you breathed moving off his lap. You searched for your panties sliding them on quickly trying to contain the mess between your legs.

“Good, that’s good,” he breathed a sigh of relief he looked around both of you. It seemed no one notice dyour little drunken romp in the parking lot. There was a slight awkward pause neither knowing what to say.

“Well that was great,” he offered, “uhh do you need a ride home?” He questioned.

You shook your head, “no I’ll just grab a quick Uber home,” you respond pulling your phone out to do just that.

He nodded seeming to like that idea not wanting you to walk home. “I’ll probably head back in and sober up a little before heading home. I definitely can’t drive right now. I’m not even sure my legs will get me back inside,” he laughed. You giggled as well. A chime rang from your phone, your ride would be pulling up soon.

“Hey give me your number and message me when you get phone safe.” He said taking the phone to send a message to himself successfully trading numbers. He gave you one more deep kiss before you left to catch your Uber.

That night your body passed out exhausted. You knew you were going to regret drinking so much tomorrow morning when you have to wake up for class.

And damn was your body sore. Your head was ponding from all the alcohol and the rest was sore from the wild sex you had. Still you woke up bright and early making sure to shower off any evidence from your delinquent activities. You made sure to take some Advil before leaving for school opting to skip breakfast since your stomach was still unstable from the liquor. Your morning classes were relatively easy not but extremely boring. You found yourself daydreaming through most of your history class thinking back to your night with Kuroo. Little fantasys of dates, and more long talks at the bar, even some naughty ideas popped into your head. It was almost like you willed him into existence because not two seconds later your phone vibrated. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his name pop up in your notifications. You laughed at the way he saved his number last night. Oh my god he texted me you thought you were so giddy. That was until you read the messages.

Kuroo 🥵: Hey YN.

Kuroo 🥵: Last night was a Mistake. Look I have a girlfriend and I love her so I think it’s best we pretend last night never happened. Sorry.

Ouch. That hurt.

General Taglist: @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @graykageyama

Taglist: @captain-janeway @elianetsantana

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

It Takes Me All the Way

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “flower shop au” square. The following idea hit me in the head a couple of days ago & I couldn’t let it go until the whole thing was written. Here’s my bingo card  - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 11.5K  Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case?

Summary:

'For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

By the time Peter worked up the courage to make any sort of move, they were at the register, seconds away from a complete transaction. He was in too deep to let the spark between them go another time. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Peter took a deep breath and leapt. “Hey, before I go – would you like to go out with me sometime?"'

Or: the one where Tony's a florist and Peter kind of digs that.

Read on AO3 here.

---- 

After taking home the third, consecutive NCA Championship title, Peter craved a tame summer. Unlike the rest of his teammates, he had no dreams of furthering his cheerleading career by becoming a coach; while everyone else flocked to the NCA cheer champ coaching positions, Peter tried his hardest to create some distance between himself and the sport.

Of course, that was easier said than done when his very best friend was also a teammate. Since the day MJ pulled him off the gymnastics mat and thrust him not so gently into the world of cheer in seventh grade, Peter never looked back – not to gymnastics or the people he left behind. He didn’t naturally fit in with anyone, but with MJ by his side and an incredible amount of athleticism, high school passed by in a whirlwind of football games, competitions, and a rich education Peter clung to. Being smart was a way out of the conservative little town that would never accept the truth of who Peter truly was.

When Purdue became an option for the both of them, Peter immediately understood moving to Indiana was the next step in life’s adventure. It wasn’t the big city that he always imagined he’d escape to, but Peter couldn’t argue with a full ride academic scholarship and a spot earned on the cheer team. As a male with tumbling experience and a shocking amount of strength for his size, Peter didn’t have to wonder about his spot on the team – he’d been leading teams to competition wins for years. Stepping out of the narrow-minded world of Springfield, Missouri was the only thing that mattered; the ability to do what he wanted without worrying about where the money came from to do it – that was just a delightful bonus.

Despite the challenges of college athletics and a philosophy major, Peter managed to keep his close friendship with MJ. They’d been a stunting pair for ages and their similarities made it easy to not only be around each other but stay tight knit in their connection. Going through so many of the trials of growing up together, Peter didn’t know what life would be like without her. After coming out and receiving nothing but a hug and a shy “me too”, their bond was cemented – made permanent in a way that something shared tied one person to another.

Their undying friendship and ridiculous commitment to each other was how he found himself balls deep in wedding planning, instead of relaxing in the peace and quiet of his one-bedroom apartment, playing video games and reading all the books he didn’t get to crunch out during the busy school year. MJ didn’t even bother asking him to be her ‘man’ of honor – after popping the question to Darcy, she simply sent him a list of things to do and dove right in.

Between bachelorette parties, bridal showers, and the seemingly impossible hunt for the best bridesmaid’s dresses, Peter hadn’t spent more than a couple days of the break on his own. Though he loved the fuck out of MJ and her soon-to-be wife, he couldn’t wait for the wedding to come and go. A little peace and alone time was exactly what he needed.

Finally, after a week of long nights and last-minute errands, the big day was upon them. The beautiful ranch venue radiated with a rich sunshine, basking the place in a lucky sort of golden glow. Since he didn’t have to spend his entire morning trapped in a makeup chair, Peter got to enjoy the beautiful weather firsthand as he contributed to the set up and decorating. Aside from helping MJ get into the admittedly cool pant suit she planned to wear, Peter’s time was his own until an hour before the ceremony.

Grinning at the thought, Peter pulled out one of the reception hall chairs and sat down heavily. He relaxed into the comfortable wood, reaching up to run a hand through his formidable curls. They were sans gel at the moment; his fingers sailed through the silky strands with ease.

Peter wasn’t aware he closed his eyes until a loud clatter had them blinking open in surprise. Swiftly turning towards the noise, Peter stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

A big gray vase was the source of the noise, there was no doubt about that the second Peter spotted it. What completely took his breath away, or maybe who, was the man holding said vase. Peter saw tanned arms that were toned to perfection right off the bat. It was obvious at first glance that the owner of those limbs worked outside with his hands frequently. The lithe muscles and glorious golden skin tone spoke more of manual work than physical exercise. With his eyes travelling up firm forearms and the swell of a built bicep, Peter noticed the man’s hair next. Tamed by a plain white dad hat, an abundance of unruly curls flipped under the edges of the brim and sides. Peter imagined a flowing head of dark brunette hair he could easily slip his fingers into the depths of.

As if the man knew Peter was staring, he turned towards Peter’s table, an intrigued look on his face. A face that, after taking in the rest of the stranger’s glorious beauty, didn’t seem fair. Well-kept facial hair outlined perfect lips pulled into a knowing smirk. Rich, honey-golden eyes were just visible under the brim of the man’s sweat-stained hat. They seemed to pierce Peter right in the chest, like their unblinking nature dug under his skin and saw everything he tried so desperately to hide. The feeling was unnerving yet so exhilarating all the same. Though he felt so very exposed, Peter wanted nothing more than to narrow the space and get to know the handsome stranger.

Luckily, his chance came a couple hours later.

To stop himself from shamelessly flirting, Peter hightailed it out of the reception hall the second he could, using a check up on MJ as a guise for his obvious escape. Most of his friends were exactly where he left them at the start of the morning – it was a marvel that anything got done when they all got together. After braving the makeup talk and putting out a few emotional fires, Peter’s reprieve came in the form of a man of honor errand.

With MJ’s credit card in hand, Peter made his way to the front of the building where the florist was waiting. He’d been so glad to get out of the bridal suite that he didn’t stop to think about the stranger and the beautiful floral arrangement that’d been in his hand or to make the connection between the two. For the second time that day, Peter tripped over himself when the man came into view. Now that an actual need to speak to him was in sight, Peter didn’t know if he could make his mouth work to take the chance.

Recognition was clear on the florist’s face – though they didn’t know one another, it was hard to forget the very long, very obvious stare Peter was caught in. Those utterly kissable lips were upturned, the pinch around the man’s eyes from the grin making him all the more attractive. Rolling his eyes at the thought (like he needed to be any more attractive), Peter tried to school his features and return the smile with one of his own.

“Hi! I’m Peter, MJ’s man of honor. She sent me to square up the bill for the flowers,” Peter said in greeting. As the space between them narrowed down, Peter nervously reached out, his free hand suddenly taking up the space between them.

A surprisingly soft hand slipped into his a moment later – the touch was firm and efficient, only lingering a second longer than usually appropriate. “Nice to meet you, Peter. Please let MJ know that I really enjoyed the challenge of the flower choices. Geraniums are hard to come by this late in the season.”

Pulling away, despite the desperate want to have the man’s hands all over him, Peter nodded in understanding – most of both MJ and Darcy’s choices were high maintenance and unique. The planning of every step along the way had been an absolute bear. “That’s MJ for you,” Peter agreed with a light chuckle. “We’ve been scrambling around the last week or so trying to get all the details right.”

There was a shared moment of silence where the two simply smiled at each other. The florist seemed just as lost as Peter, the joint look of discomfort and wonder more telling than any words ever could be. For Peter, each second that passed was a small gift he gluttonously got to unwrap until the magic was broken.

“It’s her big day, she should have what she wants,” Tony finally replied, the words and a red blush breaking the silence. “I like the unique stuff, anyway – keeps the job interesting.”

Without missing a beat, a paper invoice was thrust in his direction. “I took out the delivery fee from the total since I was in the area already.”

After that, it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to complete the transaction – the florist worked swiftly, his fingers nimble and knowledgeable in every movement he made as he swiped MJ’s card and handed it quickly back to Peter. The brush of their fingers in the exchange seemed purposeful, though – especially with the smirk and red blush that followed.

Caught up in how brilliant the look was, Peter didn’t realize there was nothing keeping him there until the shuffling of feet brought the reality of the situation back with a vengeance. As much as he wanted to stay and chat, or ask for a number, or even a name, Peter knew the time wasn’t right. He already felt so caught up – actually having access to his preoccupation wouldn’t be good for his focus. It was MJ’s day; he owed it to her to keep his shit together and make every second of it the very best.

Looking up, Peter shot the other man a large grin before lifting a hand, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I better get back,” Peter started awkwardly, “but thank you – for helping make MJ’s day so beautiful.”

With a nod, the florist pocketed his phone and took off towards the parking lot. Peter watched him walk away just long enough to catch the glance over work-firm shoulders. Hazel and brown met for a moment before Peter forced himself to walk away – a large part of him wanted to sprint across the black top to stop the gorgeous man from leaving. Something in the pit of his chest was pulsing with life; the feeling was so foreign that Peter pushed it down and quickly ran in the opposite direction, instead.

Peter got back to the bridal suite in a wonky haze – so much so that he didn’t even realize he walked through the door until MJ’s voice broke through his rampaging thoughts. “Did you get everything squared away with Tony?”

Turning towards her, Peter tilted his head, a crease in his brow appearing in his confusion. “Tony?” Peter questioned as he made his way over to the big table in the center of the room to deposit both the invoice and MJ’s credit card.  

“Tony – the florist. I sent you to pay the bill. Please tell me you didn’t get lost along the way.” MJ shot him a knowing look, her hazel eyes blazing with affection. “He was a great help these last couple of months – matching all the colors would’ve been impossible without him.”

His brain halted for a second, the organ doing nothing but processing the fact that his handsome stranger now had a name. Recalling the beautiful face, Peter figured the name Tony fit the man pretty perfectly. With that knowledge, it was quickly becoming obvious that his focus was already shot – Tony with toned arms and a delectably deep voice already took up space there, just waiting to distract Peter at the worst possible time.

Like that moment, where MJ was staring at him with growing concern, waiting for a simple yes or no to her easily answerable question. Peter shot her an embarrassed grin when he got himself back under control. Sheepishly, he reached up to run a hand through his hair. “All is well. He told me to tell you he enjoyed the challenge. Oh, and he nixed the delivery fee – said he was already in the area.” He tried to sound cool as he spoke, to not give his interest away. Yet he knew almost immediately he wasn’t successful – Peter heard his own excitement as the words bounced around in his ears.

“So it’s like that,” MJ said, looking at him much more critically now.

“Like what?” Peter shot back, refusing to look her directly in the eye. She already caught the scent – the second he gave her the satisfaction of seeing the truth in his eyes, Peter would never hear the end of it. Regardless of the very important fact that Peter, despite wanting to more than ever, didn’t even pursue the obvious and very mutual interest.

Instead of pushing, MJ surprisingly let a knowing smile overtake her face.

“I see you Peter Parker.”

Luckily, the hustle and bustle of pre-wedding preparations and nerves that were inescapable, swept the subject right off the table a moment later. Peter happily helped MJ make her finishing touches in preparation for finally meeting her wife at the end of the aisle. Getting so swept up in it all, Peter allowed himself to forget the hazel eyed man for the rest of the evening. MJ and Darcy looked so happy – it was hard to see passed anything other than their beaming smiles and the bright future waiting for them.

----

The next few weeks passed by in a flash. Peter finally got some time to himself and reveled in it, taking advantage of every second of solitary freedom he could purge himself on before his final season began. Movies, books, and his favorite video games were the only thing Peter allowed himself to think about (and Tony, so many of his thoughts were about the gorgeous florist). He even went as far as to bar MJ and Darcy from the apartment when they got back from their honeymoon – it was the least they could do after running him ragged with errands and things over the previous few months. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the bombardment of newly wed grossness; it’d been some time since Peter felt the luscious caress of love against his heart and soul – and jealousy just didn’t look good on him.

When his self-imposed isolation came to an end, Peter begrudgingly got back into a suitable routine. Though cheer practice was different without MJ there, Peter easily sunk back into the drills and full body workouts that came after an entire summer off on their own. Hayley, their coach extraordinaire, pushed them hard in the beginning – it was the best way to filter out those who wouldn’t make it when the season really got started and competition prep took over all of their lives.

Once his muscles got used to the severe beating he took on a daily basis, Peter was more than ready for the year to start. Football games and the atmosphere that came with being a Boiler were a lot of fun; and with his decreased workload as a fifth-year senior, Peter planned to enjoy the easy-going nature of spirit and poms and comradery before the teeth came out and everyone’s battle armor settled into place. When competition season started, the team’s overall atmosphere and driving motivations changed.

Of course, just when Peter thought things were going just the way they should, karma came around to prove him wrong. After a long practice the week before the semester started, one of their flyers fell from a stunt, completely unaware of her contact with the ground’s effect until someone on the other side of the mat screamed. The sight, when Peter allowed himself to look, turned his stomach – he’d never seen a dislocated hip in person before and hoped to never do so again.

After the trauma of having the paramedics all over their turf, the team was given a couple of days off to recuperate. Peter and the rest of the squad planned to take advantage of the freedom by visiting Macy, who ended up having to have emergency surgery to save both her leg and her life. Though he knew a bouquet of flowers wouldn’t change the fact that she would never be able to cheer ever again, Peter figured it was a nice touch and planned to have one made before heading to the hospital.

Googling the closest florist, Peter was surprised to find a shop so near to campus. Many of the businesses surrounding Purdue were food joints or bars that were guaranteed to get a lot of steady business during the semester and over the summer. He wondered, just for a moment, how such a random store managed to survive the college population.

It took one look at the place to understand why the shop fit exactly where it was. Instead of the old lady feel he assumed he’d find, Peter stepped in front of a large windowed building with intricate flower arrangements filling the visible shelves. On the far side of the door was a mural of the Purdue P surrounded by all types of flora. The word Stark’s was camouflaged within the swarm of vines and greenery throughout the painting. It was well done and in the perfect, eye-catching spot.

A small bell over the door rang as Peter walked through it – at least one of the cliches in his mind was accurate. Grinning at the thought, Peter let his legs carry him further into the store, his head on a swivel to look at all the beautiful foliage placed strategically from one wall to the other. Though he knew nothing of plants, Peter understood the art of drawing attention – he participated in a sport that perfected it. From the placement to the intrigue, whoever owned the shop knew exactly what to do to draw a person in.

Peter stopped his exploration when a recognizable voice echoed throughout the space – “I’ll be right with you.” Upon hearing the timber and depth that haunted Peter every night since MJ’s wedding, he almost turned around and walked right back out of the store. He wasn’t equipped for the gorgeous man and his distracting smile and eyes and shapely ass.

Before he could make his feet move or even think, Tony and his inarguable gorgeousness walked in through the back door. His hands were covered in dirty gloves, a newly potted plant in the crook of his elbow. A denim apron covered a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that peaked out the bottom. At the sight of him, Peter had to force himself to keep his mouth closed and the pace of his heart under control – much like the last time he enjoyed the view, Peter wanted to bound across the distance and intimately get to know the other man.

Met with a smile when their eyes locked, Peter reminded himself to remain calm and smile back, to actually act like a human person with thoughts and the ability to actually articulate them. He came in here for a reason, walking out of the store with anything but the arrangement he wanted to bring to the hospital was unacceptable.

Tony, upon recognizing him, took the first step towards intelligible conversation.

“Peter, right? It’s nice to see you in here! How’d the wedding go?”

Blushing at the familiarity, Peter dipped his head and took a deep breath, hoping to collect himself enough to actually reply back. “Hi, yes. Peter. It’s nice to see you, too. I was surprised to see a flower shop in the middle of college central, but your place seems to fit in really nicely. No wonder MJ was pulled in,” Peter said in reply, getting the words out all at once to make sure they all saw the light of day. “The wedding was beautiful. Both brides are blissfully happy, and your floral arrangements were the topic of several conversations I had that night. You do good work, Tony.”

Peter’s heart stopped when Tony tilted his head back into a laugh a moment later. How did someone look so sexy doing something so base? No matter what happened, Peter knew he’d never understand such a thing. To cover up his reaction, Peter added his own laugh to the mix – the sounds harmonious in the empty shop.

“Yeah, I’m sure my flowers were a hot topic of conversation, especially with those beautiful women in the room. Thanks for the kind words, though,” Tony mumbled through a laugh. As he spoke, Tony reached up to brush an errant curl from his forehead – without the hat, the hair on Tony’s head looked unruly and all over the place, untamed and absolutely beautiful. The move left the smallest remnant of dirt on his skin, the black flecks of soil like little calling cards with Peter’s name on them. His fingers itched to reach up and brush them away. Tony’s next words shook him of the thought – “What brings you in today?”

“One of my teammates fell and injured herself pretty severely. We, as a team, decided to rub in the fact that she’ll never join us on the mat again by visiting her now that she’s out of the ICU. I figured some pretty flowers might soften the blow,” Peter explained, coloring at the blunt honesty that trickled from his mouth.

Tony looked intrigued, the other man completely unfazed by Peter’s word choice and candid nature. “Must be a dangerous sport if you guys are nursing career ending injuries.” He signaled for Peter to follow him with a swift flick of his hand.

“I’ve seen some pretty intense injuries in my long cheerleading career, for sure. People flying through the air, and all that. I wouldn’t call the sport in general dangerous, per say – I’d say the expectations we have to meet are what’s dangerous. The look, the difficulty of the stunts we make our bodies do – it’s demanding,” Peter remarked, following a couple steps behind Tony as they walked.

“Sounds misogynistic as hell.”

Laughing at the truth of Tony’s statement, Peter nodded enthusiastically. His heart felt warm from the idea of the random stranger in front of him understanding his struggles better than May and Ben ever could. Tony didn’t know him, and yet Peter couldn’t remember ever feeling so seen. “Oh, it is. The beauty standards are unbelievable and if you’re a male in the cheer world, forget it – you’re fodder for mockery and intense judgement. I fit the stereotype and even I can’t catch a break.”

“What’s the stereotype?” Tony asked with a soft tilt of his head and curiousness in his eyes.

They stopped suddenly then – the space between them was narrowed down to a couple of feet with an abundance of plants surrounding them on both sides. If he took a step or two forward, Peter wouldn’t have too much trouble reaching out and touching Tony’s beautifully tanned skin like he so desperately wanted to. It took too much effort to stop himself from doing exactly that. How exhausting.

Without waiting another beat or giving himself another moment to eye kissable lips, Peter uttered the answer with subtle breathlessness – “Gay. Flaming homosexual is usually what people attribute to the men of the cheer world.”

Color travelled up Tony’s cheeks, his lips quirking ever so slightly. He took his time answering, the man obviously thinking through his reply before blurting whatever he had to say into the universe. “Huh. That’s interesting, considering football players don’t go a play without touching each other on the ass.” Tony stopped for a second, making sure to catch Peter’s eye. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Peter answered immediately, the words coming out of his mouth without thought. “Its been my life since 7th grade.”

“I guess that’s all that matters, then,” Tony replied softly, a small, familiar smile on his lips. “Now back to your friend – what’s her favorite color?”

For the next half an hour, Peter learned about flower language and the subtle way to artfully layer flowers so the colors blended meaningfully together. Peter didn’t retain too much about the flowers themselves – they were beautiful and coordinated perfectly, but Tony out shone them all. He was obviously in his element; the simple way the information fell from his mouth spoke of years of study and tons of hands-on knowledge. Not only was the man smart, he had an eye for style and created little living masterpieces without much thought.

By the time Peter worked up the courage to make any sort of move, they were at the register, seconds away from a complete transaction. He was in too deep to let the spark between them go another time. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Peter took a deep breath and leapt. “Hey, before I go – would you like to go out with me sometime? I have a chef friend that makes killer steak frites.”

For what it was worth, the look of surprise that crossed over Tony’s face was brief. It made Peter’s breath catch in anticipation – for the first time in their short acquaintance, Peter felt uncertain. The feeling quickly passed, however; Tony’s face split into a beaming smile, the earlier surprise so easily replaced with seemingly genuine happiness.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I close up shop around 6 – are you free tonight?” Tony’s cheeks were stained with a rapidly darkening, gorgeous blush, hazel eyes shining.

Peter couldn’t remember what the next ten minutes entailed, let alone that evening – yet, whatever it was, he’d happily reschedule. There wasn’t a single thing that would stop him from saying yes to whatever Tony suggested. “I am. How about I meet you out front at 6:30? I’ll call Tasha and grab us a table for 7.”

Tony nodded, reaching across the counter towards Peter’s phone. “That sounds good. I’ll give you my number in case something changes. I’ve got a greenhouse out back and tend to forget myself. I sometimes lose track of time.”

Completely taken by every new thing he learned about Tony, Peter opened the phone and pushed it in Tony’s direction without hesitation. He didn’t expect the older man to be so forward – then again, Peter wasn’t all that surprised, either; Tony owned, operated, and supplied a successful business – he had to know what he was doing to some extent.

Watching with a delirious sort of haze, Peter followed as Tony’s fingers enter his number, then hit the green button to call himself. A phone on the back counter buzzed a couple of times before Tony ended the call and slid Peter’s phone back to him. “See you later, Peter. Tell your friend I wish her a speedy recovery.”

Numb hands grabbed the arrangement off the counter – Peter raised it towards Tony in a mock solute. “Until tonight, then.” Peter muttered the words excitedly. “Bye, Tony.”

He forced himself to keep his head down in hopes of actually making it out of the store. Peter wanted to turn around and look goofily at Tony – now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, there was nothing stopping his desire from slipping out. Since the wedding, Peter forced the thought of strong arms and bright eyes from his head, just to be haunted by Tony’s beauty when he closed his eyes and let sleep take hold. His subconscious wasn’t on board with suppressing his urges – the fact that karma played a role made the rightness he felt even more valid.

Tony wanted him too.

His visit with Macy and the team was an immediate drag to his mood – the mix of emotions of the people surrounding their friend attempting to express sympathy was exhausting. Every person in the room feared Macy’s position in the bed. Some handled the anxiety better than others. The one bright spot of the visit, of course, was Tony’s arrangement. MJ immediately recognized the man’s work and winked at him knowingly. Peter didn’t stop a grin from slipping across his face; in their silent means of communication, the look was answer enough.

MJ corned him in the parking lot everyone dispersed to an appropriate amount of time later. When the room started to get too cloying, Peter made his excuses, prompting everyone to follow suit. There was only so much sad he could take – especially when a potential light in his dark tunnel shone so bright, waiting for him just hours away. They stopped at the trunk of Peter’s car, MJ leaning against the bumper like always. “Peter, spill. I haven’t seen that goofy look on your face since high school. Did something happen with Tony?”

Snorting at MJ’s impeccable awareness, Peter shifted until he could wrap his arm around her. He leaned his head against the side of MJ’s, closing his eyes. “Your florist is the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I maturely held myself back at the wedding to be there with you in the moment and those karma points I banked were good to me today. I walked into Stark’s for some flowers for Macy and couldn’t bear to walk out without a chance to see him again.” Peter turned his head until he could press a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going out tonight.”

“I’m happy for you,” MJ said, her thin arms wrapping around him. “When I first met him, I thought you two might like each other. He’s older, a little weird, smart as hell – just your type.”

“I guess there’s a reason why you’re my best friend,” Peter quipped. “Seriously, though. Thank you – you always point me in the right direction. I really like him.”

MJ pulled back just enough to tap her forefinger against Peter’s nose – the move their sign of affection for years now. “Go get your man, Pete.”

----

To stop himself from pacing up and down the hall of his apartment, Peter went to the fitness center on campus – a hard workout with the weights was exactly what his body needed. Sweating and listening to a couple of playlists took Peter away from his thoughts of dinner later and into a mindset that let him just exist. It didn’t hurt that the pump in his arms looked amazing by the time he packed up and called it a day.

Timing it perfectly, Peter left himself an hour to get back to his apartment, shower, and decide on an outfit that didn’t shout desperate, but expressed his implicit interest, too. Not living too far from campus made it easy to fret about his clothes after a lengthy shower that took every ounce of Peter’s willpower to not masturbate anxiously. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to face the star of his fantasies head on after beating off to the thought of Tony’s tanned skin and gorgeous smile.

After a few restless passes through every piece in his closet, Peter took a large step back, attempting to clear his head. From what he already learned of the older man, Peter knew Tony looked flawless in anything – his style was basic, but the casual nature in which it was worn made the look stylish, anyway. Tasha’s restaurant wasn’t the fanciest place in the world and the pressing feeling of being comfortable in Tony’s presence made an outfit pop into Peter’s head after a couple of long breaths that helped to calm him down.

Peter slipped into his favorite dark wash jeans, smiling all the while – it seemed silly, the anxiety he danced with less than five minutes ago. He’d felt nothing but ease and excitement around Tony, getting himself prepared for a date with the man wasn’t as life and death as he let himself believe. Stressing over something that felt simple in every other way was a new feeling – Peter carried an abundance of confidence with him everywhere. The change made Peter believe whatever might happen with Tony was different and so much better than any other romantic dalliance he’d ever taken part in.

The outfit was finished with a couple small sprays of his favorite cologne – Peter only broke out the fancy stuff for special occasions. With a tug to his rolled shirt sleeve and the slightest adjustment of his collar, Peter took a deep breath and wandered across the room to stop in front of his mirror. His straight legged jeans were clasped at the waist with a black leather belt that cut Peter’s figure dramatically. Both muscular and trim, Peter went out of his way to make sure each attribute was highlighted appropriately. A white and blue stripped short sleeve button up wrapped around Peter’s firm biceps and tucked neatly into his waistband to highlight the narrowness of his hips.

Aside from the rogue curls Peter couldn’t tame, he felt good about the way he looked – the outfit and the confidence it made him feel would be a hit. Tony seemed to like the upfront and honest way he presented himself, there wasn’t any reason to change that now. Allowing himself one last look, Peter turned away from the mirror and made his last-minute preparations – he pocketed his wallet and keys and grabbed a jacket off the coat hook on his way out of the door.

It took less than five minutes to get to Tony’s shop – without the daily traffic on the road, the drive was easy. Pocketing that fact for another time, Peter climbed out of the car excitedly; for the first time in a while, Peter felt ready to date. Tony presented intrigue and want and a curiosity that Peter hoped to cling to for as long as possible. The simple fact that Peter already felt that way spoke volumes.

A door shutting brought Peter’s attention to the sidewalk in front of him. He expected to find Tony turned around to lock the front door of the shop, yet the older man was closing a door on the side of the building instead. Even more interested now, Peter started to head in that direction.

“I live in a huge loft above the shop,” Tony said with a knowing tone, answering Peter’s unspoken question without any sort of hesitation. “When I first bought the building, a storefront wasn’t what I initially had in mind. After I opened up the shop, it made the most sense.” Tony continued to speak as he closed the distance between them.

A soft pair of lips were pressed lightly against Peter’s cheek before he could think, let alone reply. Peter felt his cheeks and neck light up with a heated flush, his body temperature skyrocketing. Tony’s next words only added to the feeling – “You look amazing, Peter.”

Swallowing his awkwardness, Peter smiled in Tony’s direction, finally taking the man in front of him fully. Tony’s legs were encased in charcoal grey jeans that were rolled twice at the cuff. The edges sat nicely against a pair of black and white vans. The tanned arms Peter hadn’t been able to stop thinking about were on display – Tony’s short sleeve button up was perfectly tight against a trim chest and firm shoulders. Other than the stubble Peter figured Tony always had, the man’s cheeks were smooth – highlighting how gorgeous the florist truly was. It didn’t hurt that their fashion senses were similar, either; Peter wondered for a moment where Tony got the floral shirt currently driving him crazy.

“You’re stunning,” Peter eventually managed to say, his breathy words finally breaking his minutes long silence. “You’ve looked great in every way I’ve seen you – covered in dirt, sweaty and working, dressed to impress – it’s kind of not fair, Tony.” Peter let the truth of what he just said sit transparently on his face. They were passed the point of coyness and subtlety; Peter wanted Tony to know he was wanted, even though they hadn’t known each other long.

His bluntness seemed to do the trick – Tony grinned widely in his direction, avoiding direct eye contact with Peter in obvious hope of getting himself back under control. “Charmer,” Tony muttered, stepping a little closer to Peter to emphasis his point.

After opening the passenger side door like the gentleman he was, Peter settled behind the wheel and onto the main road. Tasha was a former teammate, a senior his freshman year, that escaped to Paris – only to make her way back to Indiana and use the knowledge she gained in one of the cooking capitals of the world. Over the years, Silver became a regular place for Peter and the team to spend their classier nights. The food was amazing, and Tasha’s unique style made the minimalism the restaurant was known for interesting and thought provoking. When he called to make the reservation, Tasha cooed in Peter’s ear while saving his favorite table for 7.

They made easy small talk during the drive over – Peter described the pre-season workouts he’d been trucking through while Tony regaled him with a story of his last customer of the day who tried to steal roses by stuffing them down her shirt. As he listened and absorbed, Peter realized Tony was funny and full to the brim of wit – he laughed freely, the sound so joyful, Peter couldn’t help but join in. They were still chatting as the hostess led them to their table and set large menus before them.

Their drink orders were taken almost immediately – the serving staff was familiar with Peter and must’ve been tipped off before they got there. A bottle of red wine was set on the table before either of them could delve back into their previous conversation. Peter poured them each a glass, then pointed at the menu – “Did anything catch your eye?”

“I thought I’d go with the steak frites. Out of all the dishes on this extensive menu, that one immediately came to your mind. Seems like as good a reason as any to give them a try,” Tony reasoned, lifting the wine to his lips as he spoke. “What about you?”

Peter’s cheeks were already starting to hurt from the giddy smile he couldn’t help – talking and joking and simply being with Tony felt so natural. He didn’t have to think to reply casually to whatever they were talking about. “I get them every time I’m here. When Tasha first opened this place, she’d just lay dishes on the table when we sat down. I stopped being her menu taster when she introduced me to the steak frites. I haven’t had anything else here since,” Peter admitted, his cheeks flaming once again.

“You’re one of those people, huh?” Tony shot back, grinning all the while.

“One of those people?”

Tony grinned a little wider, his eyes shining with affectionate enjoyment. Before he replied, the older man slipped his hand across the table, taking Peter’s fingers lightly. “Yeah, one of those people. Someone that gets the same dish at every Chinese or Italian place they go to, no matter the options.” His thumb trailed over the back of Peter’s hand. “You like what you like.”

Feeling a little called out, Peter ducked his head to stop anymore redness from overtaking his skin – he probably resembled a tomato already. It was crazy – to feel so happy being teased. “Okay, yeah – I’m one of those people. I’ll try that one dish anywhere, though.”

They traded a few barbs back and forth until they ordered, and their dishes were sat down in front of them. Without the threat of interruptions in the near future, Peter felt ready to broach some of the more personal topics – for the first time on a date, Peter genuinely wanted to listen and find out more about the person across from him.

“So, tell me more about yourself – who is Tony Stark when not covered in dirt or up to his elbows in beautiful flowers?” Peter cut into his steak as he spoke, hoping the relaxed way he asked the question would take a little tension off Tony’s obligation to answer. The last thing he wanted to do was make their time together feel like an interrogation.

Tony didn’t seem to mind, though – he looked up with a tilt of his head. “What do you want to know? I’m shockingly not covered in dirt a lot of my time throughout the day.”

“How did your love for flowers start? Did you study horticulture in college?” Peter decided to ask.

Smiling lightly, Tony shifted in his seat, preparing himself for story time. “I studied Botany and Plant Pathology, actually. I have a doctorate in Plant Genetics and Soil and Water Sciences. During my plant genetics studies, I did some time abroad that took me to every continent – seeing the wide range of flora that exists in this world was the first time I ever thought about making plants and flowers a daily part of my life to the extent they are now.” Tony stopped to meaningfully catch Peter’s eyes.

“I used to be a professor at Purdue – when the restrictions of the lab became too much, I ditched the academic world and opened up the shop. I’ve been elbows deep in beautiful flowers ever since.” Tony winked in his direction, repeating his words jokingly back to him. “What about you? You cheer and charm unsuspecting old men, I know that. What else do you get up to?”

“You’re the only unsuspecting older guy I want to be charming, don’t you worry,” Peter reassured Tony with a soft chuckle. “When I’m not sweeping you off your feet, I study Philosophy and play a stupid amount of video games. Cheer and all that comes with it takes up a lot of my time, though. Most of my college life has revolved around football games and competitions.”

“Sweeping me off my feet – jeez, Pete,” Tony mumbled. His cheeks were red and the smile he wore spoke of happiness and enjoyment. “I took a couple of Philosophy classes during my undergrad days. What do you plan to do with an entire degree with it?”

A laugh slipped from Peter’s mouth at Tony’s question – though many people asked him that very same thing, no one presented it quite like Tony did. “You’d be surprised by what you can do with a Philosophy degree,” Peter retorted. “I want to be a bioethicist. My minor is Public Health – when I put my cheer shoes away for good, I hope to get a master’s in Bioethics and finally get into the realm I want to be in.”

Tony tilted his head then, his eyes roaming over Peter curiously. “What made you want to get into that? I’m sure there aren’t a lot of young bucks walking into higher education with their sights set on changing the medical world like that.”

Sucking in a long breath, Peter let the question sit on the air for a moment. He swirled the last of his wine in the glass before drinking it. “My parents were in a car accident a couple of days before my 10th birthday. My dad passed away immediately, but my mom – she hung on for an extra couple of days. There was a lot of internal bleeding that they were worried about. In all that worry, they didn’t wait for scan results or blood work to come back before they attempted a new, exploratory surgery. She didn’t make it back out of the operating room.”

Peter paused for a moment, catching his breath. “I was old enough to know someone fucked up and when I looked into it later, I decided I never wanted to let someone feel like I did in a crisis like that. There’s got to be someone who reviews the evidence and makes the ethically just decision to save someone’s life. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

For a second, Peter thought he went a little bit too far – there was a tense moment of silence that felt heavy after revealing something so personal. Peter bit into his bottom lip, not letting himself look up to see whatever reaction existed on Tony’s face. Then, a soft touch brushed across the back of Peter’s hand, Tony’s calloused fingers wrapping around his own. A brief squeeze had Peter looking up, his breath catching at the awe that met him. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, Pete. Mine aren’t around anymore, either. It’s kind of cliché to say that you saw the deeper meaning of something so tragic, but it’s true. You’re using your pain to make the world better. That’s good shit,” Tony said, his voice hinting at a note of finality – like nothing would change his mind of the thought.

His certainty made Peter feel light, the weight of his emotional burden finally lifting from him after so many years. What a difference it made, to be so easily understood.  

That light and airy feeling followed Peter throughout the rest of the evening – he smiled widely as Tony talked about his greenhouse while they shared a small chocolate tart between them. For all that his physical attraction was worth, Peter was genuinely surprised to realize that he felt a personal connection to the florist, too. They led different lives but shared enough similarities to make the time spent together more than worth it. Peter liked Tony and from the looks and subtle touches Tony bestowed upon him all evening, Peter figured Tony might like him, too.

Tony proved that thought to be true when they pulled up in front of his place – “Do you want to come up? I had a really nice time tonight and don’t want it to end.” Tony’s words were said through a saucy smile, his intention more than clear in the look in his eyes.

Peter didn’t hesitate to give his answer – leaning forward, he gripped the side of Tony’s cheeks, using his hold as leverage to pull Tony a little closer. They met in the middle, their lips pressing together softly.

----

Things progressed pretty quickly from there. Tony led Peter up a small flight of stairs into an open room. As expected, plants and flowers were scattered around the place, covering all of the flat surfaces with adequate enough sunlight. A comfortable looking couch and kitchen table took up one corner of the room while a large, king-sized bed took up the rest of the free space of the room. There wasn’t much clutter and all of the things that Tony had, he more than likely used. It was simple and perfect, much like the person who resided there.

Tony didn’t let Peter take in the room for too long – before he could walk around and snoop, Tony’s arms were around Peter’s hips, pulling him close. Peter eagerly met Tony in the middle, their lips sealing together in the delicious slide of tongue and teeth and wet, panted breath. As the kisses deepened and their bodies moved closer to each other, Peter started to impatiently thumb at Tony’s buttons, his palms and fingers running over every inch of bare skin he revealed to the cold air. Tony followed suit; his movements much more impatient than Peter’s were. By the time they made it over to the bed, Tony was pulling down Peter’s pants and boxer briefs. He gladly joined Tony in nakedness before climbing onto the inviting mattress.

“Holy shit, this is comfortable,” Peter babbled absentmindedly, his limbs stretching as far as they could go.

“It’s the one thing I refuse to compromise on. I want to be comfortable when I partake in all the activities a bed is good for,” Tony replied as he climbed onto the bed and fit himself between Peter’s legs. “You’ll be even more impressed in the morning,”

For a while after that, there weren’t any words exchanged. Peter kept his mouth busy by pressing kisses into Tony’s neck and upper chest – Tony’s cologne was prominent, pulling Peter in the more he breathed the delicious smell in. Tony let Peter riddle his skin with marks and spit while he ran his hands all over Peter’s skin. Their hips were lined up and with every thrust Peter made up, Tony rolled his hips down until their cocks brushed delightfully. They were both so caught up in each other that nothing but touching and experiencing actually mattered.

It’d been so long for Peter that he found himself coming to a breathless crescendo fast. After a few minutes of passively letting Peter kiss him, Tony took control of things – his hips set the tempo and his hands and lips laid down the distraction. So overwhelmed from it all, Peter wasn’t aware of how close he was until his orgasm slammed into him out of nowhere. “Oh fuck, Tony! I’m – I’m going to come,” Peter panted out, his body thrumming with life and want and a desire he couldn’t hold back.

“Oh, Tony!” Peter practically screamed a moment later – Tony dirtily rolled his hips to toss him deliciously over the edge.

Panted breath filled the room as Peter rode the high of his orgasm. Tony placed tiny, teasing kisses against any part of Peter’s skin he could reach. Reaching down, Peter gripped the sides of Tony’s face until they were looking at each other – Tony met his eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. “How good is your turnaround time?”

Laughing, Peter leaned forward to give Tony a kiss. His cock was already starting to fill out again – having Tony so close set his body on fire. “Ten minutes at the max,” Peter mumbled after a moment of cataloging his heavy limbs and the desire that was rampaging through them.

“Good. Then you’ll have plenty of time to prep me before you fuck me.”

Lost in the words for a moment, Peter was immobile until Tony tapped his side with a cold lube bottle to get his attention. “You want me to fuck you?” Peter dumbly asked, his mind still trying to catch up.

“Yeah, Pete. I want to feel you inside of me. Your body is trim and fit – I can only imagine how good you’re going to fuck me,” Tony admitted without shame. He moved out of the splay of Peter’s thighs, climbing to his hands and knees, instead.

Not wanting to lose his chance, Peter launched himself into action. He ran his hands over the planes of Tony’s sides and back, tracing the small scars and tiny moles scattered across pale skin. His fingers were eager to categorize and map, but his impatience was too great. Tony pressed back into him, as if he too was starting to feel anxious for what was coming next.

Uncapping the lube, Peter drizzled a good amount onto two of his fingers, pausing just long enough to warm the slick to body temperature. When he felt ready, Peter pressed the tips of both his fingers to Tony’s eagerly waiting hole, tracing and circling the muscle to spread the lube and relax the man he was touching. Little by little, his first finger slipped in without much resistance. Tony bared down against him and let the digit slip all the way in until the webbing of Peter’s finger stopped him.

Now that the warm heat was wrapped around him, Peter wanted to take his time, letting Tony get used to the feeling while he explored and reached. Tony’s entire body jolted forward when Peter finally found that delicate nub.

“Shit – do that again!” Tony shouted; his voice laced with a breathy moan.

Unable to do anything but give into what they both wanted, Peter continued his ministrations, teasing Tony with one, two, and then three fingers. He scissored and pressed against the edge of Tony’s rim, loosening the muscle as he went. When he pressed inside, Peter caressed Tony’s insides, just barely pressing against his prostate until Tony was humping back with exaggerated impatience.

“I’m good, Pete. I’m good. Please, I want you,” Tony pleaded as he reached back and felt around for whatever lenght of Peter’s skin he could reach.

Completely hard once again, Peter was more than ready to feel Tony wrapped around him – after an easy orgasm already, Peter knew he’d be able to make their coupling worth it. Opening the tube of lube again, Peter drizzled more of it directly onto the length of his cock, and then a bit more around Tony’s rim. He stroked himself a couple of times, then shifted until the head of his cock could drag through the lube coating Tony’s skin.

He teased them both for a moment, tracing Tony’s rim with the wet head of his cock to ramp up that initial moment of anticipation. Peter kept up his antics until his own body couldn’t take it any longer – every part of him craved the warm embrace of Tony’s hole. With that thought in mind, Peter used one of his hands to grip Tony’s hip, using his hold to pull the other man back against him as he thrust forward. Breaching the muscle felt like coming home – he threw his head back with a rough groan; maybe he wouldn’t last as long as he initially thought.

“Tony, Tony, Tony – you feel fucking amazing,” Peter panted through clenched teeth, his body fighting hard against the need to thrust forward and take, take, take.

Tony reached back to grab at Peter’s hand on his hip to tangle their fingers together, instead. They shared a few breaths while Tony got used to the stretch of Peter within him, the mere connection between them radiating a different sort of heat while they waited.

Finally, Peter felt Tony relax around him enough for his hips to draw back and press forward without much effort. He kept his thrusts slow to start; his cock was throbbing from the realization that it was Tony below him – picking up the pace was a sure-fire way to end things a lot quicker than either of them wanted. When Tony started to thrust back against him, however, Peter lost more and more of his control. His hips snapped forward, their skin slapping together to make a loud sound that echoed around the room. With every thrust in, Tony moved with him – the tip of Peter’s cock was poised to press perfectly against Tony’s prostate every time.

Between the sounds dripping from Tony’s mouth and the delightful squeeze around his length, Peter was a few thrusts away from slipping over the edge once more. He tried to shift so he could wrap his fingers around Tony’s cock to get him there too, but he was met with a long stare over Tony’s shoulder – dark hazel eyes were on fire, pushing him to thrust harder and forget everything else. Tony’s body was taut, obviously strung out and seconds away from breaking apart. Finally understanding, Peter straightened out his chest, gripped Tony’s hips in both hands, and let himself go.

In the end, it was hard to decide who tumbled over the edge first. Tony shouted Peter’s name and tightened impossibly tight around him. The extra stimulus was the perfect thing to bring the heat in Peter’s belly to an overflowing boiling point. He tucked his head into the sweaty length of Tony’s neck and groaned, Tony’s name and fuck and unintelligible noises added to the symphony their joining created around the room.

Managing to just barely turn Tony as his body collapsed, Peter hit the mattress hard – his cock slipped out of the blissful heat, dragging a long groan from the depth of Peter’s chest. Being inside of Tony already felt like home; both his body and his heart were convinced. Wrapping his arm around Tony’s hip to compensate, Peter snuggled into the man’s sweaty back, keeping their bodies close.

“I – Tony. That was…” Peter started to mutter, his brain still not back online like the rest of him. Tony looked over his shoulder, affection and appreciation alive in the hazel of his eyes. They shared a heated stare as Tony pulled Peter’s hand more firmly across his chest – they didn’t need words in that moment, merely touching and existing in the same orbit was more than enough.

----

After that first passionate night, Peter spent almost all of his free time with Tony. With the shop being so close to campus, it was easy to lean on Tony’s close proximity and the joyful happiness Peter felt whenever they were together. The natural way their lives just sort of combined with each other proved how right they were for each other. Where others were wrapped up in the time Peter spent away from them, Tony enjoyed the fact that they led separate lives. Peter got to keep cheerleading and Tony at the same time without the two battling against each other. He didn’t know it before Tony came into his life, but that level of acceptance was everything Peter needed from another person to both excel and feel happiness.

Before Peter knew it, four months were behind them – though it hadn’t been that long, most of Peter’s things took up space in Tony’s apartment and every thought Peter had revolved around the life he was trying to create with the older man. He even took the time to learn more about Tony’s body of work – they spent many of their afternoons together in the backyard with Tony working the greenhouse while Peter practiced tumbling or simply watched his boyfriend in his element. Peter couldn’t recall another person making him feel so dumbfounded playing in the dirt the way Tony did – it wouldn’t matter what the man did, either; Peter would find something to be amazed about.

It was Tony that drew him in; his personality, thoughts, and the eager way he gave back to Peter spoke to a part of himself that he never knew existed.

Which was how he found himself nervously awaiting Tony’s arrival at the Purdue football stadium – aside from MJ and Darcy, Tony’s appearance at the football game would be the first time any of his friends met the older man. The fall, much like Peter, was a busy time of the year for Tony. Between weddings, showers, and parties, Tony’s weekends were filled to the brim. The homecoming game was the first game that the home schedule actually lined up with Tony’s off day. He couldn’t wait for Tony to watch him do the thing he loved in the uniform he felt proud to wear. Selfishly, he wanted to see that same sort of pride radiating from the person he’d fallen in love with.

The forty minutes they were trapped in the locker room before the game started felt like torture – his phone vibrated against his thigh a couple of minutes after they headed in from warm-ups. Tony was navigating the stadium’s security to get to the sideline spot Peter secured for him. When they walked back onto the field, Tony would be there eagerly waiting for him.

Finally, the performance lights flickered, and they were ushered to their usual entrance. The large black and gold flag he carried in his hands was lighter than usual – his excitement pumped through him, the dopamine of happiness causing a rush of energy. As the announcer pumped up the crowd, Peter caught the eyes of his teammates around him, sharing the hype he felt.

Running across the thick white lines never felt better – by the time he crossed center field, Peter caught sight of Tony in the corner. His boyfriend was clapping loudly, the honey-hazel of his eyes glued to Peter’s every move. The familiar feeling that Tony’s love created in him spread through Peter’s chest, showing itself off as a giant, beaming smile.

They didn’t get much of a chance to talk throughout the first half of the game – Peter’s stunt group was responsible for the spirit stuff for the first and second quarter. Instead, Peter sent Tony messages with his eyes, showing off his skills and tumbling talents whenever he could. It was almost better that way – Tony got to experience Peter in his element without any pressure to respond. The crowd going wild around them only added to the experience. For once, Peter got to put on the show.

When Peter got to wander off after the half-time performance, he was wrapped up in a bear-hug the second Tony could get his arms around him. Peter was covered in sweat and glitter and the annoying little turf beads that always stuck to his skin, but Tony didn’t seem to care. The older man picked him up, spinning him around excitedly. “Pete, you’re so talented. I about shit my pants when you back flipped for so long down the field, but damn – the skill you possess,” Tony gushed, tucking his face into Peter’s neck to calm himself down.

Not wanting to lose the upbeat energy, Peter cupped Tony’s cheeks in both of his hands. Tony leaned into the touch, tilting his head back to look at him. “I’m so happy you’re here,” Peter started, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss. “I’ve been on point all day because of you. I can feel you watching me – I want to be good for you.” The last words were whispered in his ear, the impact of them hitting Peter hard across his lower back as Tony wrapped him up and pulled him close.

“You’re the only thing I see,” Tony mumbled back, his tone all the sudden low and gravelly.

After leaning in to give Tony a heated kiss, Peter forced himself to pull back – he stepped out of Tony’s embrace completely. If he stayed there any longer, he wouldn’t make it back to the locker room at all. Smirking in Tony’s direction, Peter thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go, or I’ll never leave. See you after?”

“I’ll meet you out front,” Tony said with a nod, his anxious hands reaching out to squeeze Peter’s hand once more. “Keep kicking ass, Pete.”

His role during the third and fourth quarter was a lot more passive than the first half of the game. Since the Boilers were up more than two touchdowns, a lot of the crowd left after the first few minutes of the third quarter – that meant the younger stunters and less experienced tumblers got to have some time on the field. To stop himself from straying over towards Tony, Peter put all of his effort into helping his littles. It didn’t work nearly as well as he figured it might, but he got through the rest of the game with minimal distraction.

Hayley’s speech was inspirational and moving like usual – they were done with football home games for the season and their success was obvious and highlighted in her moving words. The next couple of months of the season were the calm before the storm and they were all looking forward to the small break basketball games posed for them. Competition season started after the holidays and no rest would be spared. Though he always appreciated her words, Peter wished for them to quickly come to an end.

Before he even finished the thought, Hayley was circling them up, calling out the cheer that they all echoed back. As he shifted to move out of the circle, a firm grip stopped him. “I believe this is for you,” Hayley said, handing over a classic red rose.

“Hayley, who’s this from?” Peter asked, trying his best to tamper down the hope that maybe Tony was the stupidly romantic culprit.

With a knowing smile, Hayley shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, “He said you’d know.”

Pulling the rose to his chest, Peter ducked his nose to sniff at the crisp petals. It was de-thorned and freshly cut – Tony’s markers were all over the beautiful gesture. His cheeks were already sore from all the beaming he’d been doing all night, the face splitting smile only made it worse. Despite that, Peter wore it throughout his post-game routine and out the door where he ran directly into MJ.

“MJ! What are you doing here?” Peter threw his arms around her then, careful not to crush the flower still in his hand.

Thin arms returned the hug – MJ brought him tightly to her chest with a hard squeeze. It’d been a few weeks since they’d seen each other. Seeing her standing there, Peter realized it’d been too long.

“I couldn’t miss homecoming. I am an alumna after all,” MJ replied, her wide eyes never leaving him. Watching her closely, Peter felt a gasp leave his lips when she brought another classic red rose up, running the flower under her nose. “This needed delivering, too.”

Peter gripped the rose lightly, tucking it against the other one in his hand. Each of the petals were perfect and from the small lessons he got from Tony whenever they handled the clipped flowers, Peter knew what the giving of classic red roses meant. It only seemed right that Tony clued him in that way.

“Don’t fuck this up, Peter. I really like him, too,” MJ remarked as she moved in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. He kept her close for a moment, simply soaking in her presence. “He’s waiting for you out front. Go get your man, Pete.”

A soft laugh left his lips, MJ said that to him when she first learned about his date with Tony. It wasn’t lost on him how full circle everything felt. The rightness of being with Tony existed in every aspect of his life – each little sign made the delirious heat in his chest burn that much brighter.

Giving MJ one more squeeze, Peter broke away to quickly make his way towards the front of the stadium where Tony was waiting for him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve such a sweet display of affection – Tony knew Peter appreciated the simple day to day life they were slowly creating with each other. At the same time, Peter’s heart was hammering in his chest at the thought that Tony deemed him worthy of such a gesture.

Peter found Tony leaning up against one of the large pillars just outside the exit doors. In the darkness, the honey color of his eye shone like melted pools of gold. Narrowing the distance between them became the only thing on Peter’s mind, he picked up his pace and practically threw himself in Tony’s arms.

The sigh along the length his neck made Peter tuck in a little tighter against Tony, his heart pounding with affection. He pulled back before the roses in his hand could get squished in the intensity of their embrace. Peter brought the flowers to his nose, keeping Tony’s eye as he did. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Peter sing-songed, grinning at the flush that spread over Tony’s cheeks with every word.

Tony nodded at him, tilting his head with a mischievous look of his own. “It looks like you’re missing one, though,” Tony remarked. The long stem in his hand was darker than the others, symbolizing love yet to be realized. Their fingers brushed as Peter took it, his brow quirked in intrigue.

“I love you, Pete. I’ve known since you walked through the door of my shop that you were special. Every second with you has made my life just a little bit better. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I’m mad about you. Over the fucking moon.” Tony walked into his space then, his hands cupping Peter’s cheeks.

Surging forward, Peter caught Tony’s lips in a passionate kiss, their noses bumping in the process. They sipped from each other’s mouths until the need to breath became pressing. Instead of pulling away, Peter leaned his forehead against Tony’s, closing his eyes to revel in the contentment that wrapped around them both. After a couple of shared breaths, Peter blinked to catch Tony’s eye. “I love you too, Tony,” Peter whispered back.

With a wide grin, Tony leaned in again, mumbling “I know” against Peter’s lips.

[the-crews-journals]

One piece au

Name: Svetza Ouijew

Age: 25

Sex: F

Orientation: open af

Marital status: not

Temperament/personality: laid back and chill party monster. Go with the flow kinda chaos gremlin

job: Pirate

Family: mother & father: dead. adopted father: dead

Friends: we will see

love interest: whats a love interest? I only know FLIRT (we will see.)

Appearance:

Weapon: solar wind staff. A seven foot tall staff that Harnesses the power of the sun and wind to let out super heated bursts of air.

Race: Goblin

Physical traits: way stronger than she looks

Height: five foot

Weight: 120

Build: athletic

Likes and interests: kids, food, sex, partying, magic, dancing, animals , plants, learning, libraries

favorite foods: meat, bones, cake, gummies

Bands: folk music, rock, house, electronic, party songs

Books: magic, fantasy, history, advebtures

movies: old spaghetti westerns

Dislikes: abusers of any kind, waste of any kind, racism.

Food: there isn't anything she won't eat

Band: overly religious stuff that isn't pretty or upbeat

Book: books with facts that are wrong

movies: romcoms

Quirks: shes spunky and an absolute gremlin

Originates from: river rock ridge a small town somewhere in the blue seas

Lives now: wherever the hell she wants on her ship the Mystic isles.

background story: at the age of three svetzas race and her own existence had gotten out to some nasty folk in the world. She was sought after by the dragons after word got out about the odd green bestial people. But her parents hid her away on a ship setto sail away from their home island and ultimately away from the dragons and they themselves were instead enslaved and later died. Her people scattered until one of them found somewhere safe to live and alerted the others.

Svetza lived alone for a miraculous three years on the tiny ship till a man found her and took her in, raising her till she was twelve like she was his own daughter, keeping her safe and teaching her to become a schollar. He grew ill one day and the sick overcame him and he unfortunately died. Alone and sure she was in danger of being caught again, she left the care of her and her fathers home/property to a family she had befriended growing up and set out to sea in her late step fathers ship.

She gained a reputation for being notoriously hard to kill and a monster in a fight as well as a brilliant schollar. She lives her life on the run from the world government for crimes she didnt commit, the navy again for crimes she didnt commit and hunting down the bastard dragons that killed her late parents.

The ship

The mystic isles

The mystic isles is actually a small man made island that sits atop a mechanical turtle submersible.

7.5 miles in circumference

2.5 miles in diameter

1.25 miles in radius

About 10 miles in area

The whole island is forested to keep the tower and house protected from the elements. In the dead center of the island sits the wizards tower, and right beside that is an old english style cottage that was her father and hers home, with a fresh water mote that surrounds the house. Its filled with fresh water species of fish. And an edible garden.

The turtle - aka mystic

Semi aquatic submersible mechanical turtle. It can crawl on land when they need to park it safely on an island.

It pulls seawater in and purifies it, storing the salt in one tank (which is used for cooking) and fresh water in the rest.

Three tanks supply the island and gardens with fresh water

The other two tanks supply the house and tower with fresh cold and hot water for drinking, bathing, washing, toilets.

Sewage is put in a septic tank and cleaned with microbes.

Excess water is cleaned, resalinated, and dumped back in the ocean

Excess salt is sold or traded.

The tower

Everything is the same except any magical aspect. Everything is scientific or alchemic or physics.

The apothecary shop is the medical room

Svetzas wizard lab is the treasure room.

The meditation room is a nav room.

The house

Just a house where everyone lives.

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Four

“I’ve never really cared for books with covers.”

Beneath his questing hands, Thomas hears a brief rush of exhaled breath from James’ nose that might be laughter. But he’s not going to let his lovely little cynic ruin his monologue here. Thomas has a point to be made, and he’s not going to be deterred until he makes it. 

Not that he thinks James minds all that much anyway, seeing as he was comfortable in Thomas’ leather recliner, shoes off and socked toes warming in front of a fire that was perfectly stoked, if Thomas did say so himself. 

“As I was saying…” Thomas feels the ridge of a knot of muscle just beneath his thumb, and he digs into it with gusto, feeling the wince beneath his palms. True release took a little pain, James. “Books with covers are so boring. You can see what’s going to happen, right there on the cover.

Say the book has a castle on the cover, and a knight below him with his sword drawn. Easy. You know that the story is going to be about a man overcoming hardships to win the day. Your book has a fine, upstanding woman with her bodice ripped, staring into the eyes of a savage muscle man with flowing locks?”

Thomas huffs. “I won’t even waste my breath telling you how trite and easy to read those books are. Even more recent books fall to the same thing. A massive house against the backdrop of the night sky? Haunted house. Ghosts either of the supernatural or the completely natural. A fancy typesetting and curling letters spelling out a long and complicated name?” Those were a dime a dozen these days. “A coming of age story about a young woman who’s supposed to be just like everyone else, but somehow she’s completely different than all of them, and special.”

Now, Thomas had no trouble with any kind of those stories. People in cold marriages needed to find love and warmth wherever they could. He wouldn’t begrudge him that. The same with haunted house ghost stories and young women who wanted to believe they were special when everything spoke to the contrary. 

“All of that, just from the cover. What’s the point of even reading through these books, if you know how they’re going to end?” Thomas would admit he’s never really been the type to read for pleasure. He enjoyed music more than he ever would sitting down with a book. There was a magic in music he could never find in words. But he still knew the value of a good book, no matter the genre it resided in. 

“But when you go into the bookstore and all you can see is plain cardstock? Now that’s the kind of mystery that I love. Especially when the title is short. Atlas Shrugged. How on Earth would I know what that was about, just from the words stamped onto the spine? Or The Grapes of Wrath. Jude the Obscure. Obscure isn’t the right word for it, my friend. The right word is mystery and I love a good mystery.”

Case in point, the one turning to goo beneath his very fingers at this moment. It had taken weeks of flirting to even get James to start opening up to him, his very own closed book. But Thomas had been intrigued from the second he saw the words stamped onto James’ spine and it had become his mission to read every page of the man’s book. 

Even now, when one cup of tea at Magnus’ place had turned into a lunch date at Diego’s, to a dinner date at Maria’s and now, a third date here in the house that Thomas was renting for his “vacation” (could you really call it a vacation when it had been going on for months now? Maybe he should start calling it his extended leave.) there was still so much about James that he didn’t know. 

It felt like being in the first chapter still, but hooked on every paragraph and every turning of the page. James Madison was a book that Thomas wasn’t ready to put down. 

“The world is so much more fun when you don’t know what’s going to happen in it.” Thomas knew from the huff of breath on the other side of the chair that James didn’t agree. But James was a polite man. A smart one too, who didn’t want his shoulder rub to come to a premature end by having a differing opinion. “You don’t think so?”

“I prefer structure, and order. I like knowing when and where things are going to happen, and why.” James had skin like the best dark chocolate, and a voice like a gravel road. The perfect mixture of haute couture and savage realism. 

Thomas might be in a little bit deeper than he wants to think about right now. 

“I understand that. Provisionally, of course. I wouldn’t want to live my life like that, personally. But I see how a person could find comfort in having their whole life laid out in front of them.” That had been Thomas’ life. He was meant to follow in his father’s footsteps, practically from the moment he was born. Go to school, excel, get his degree. Practice law. 

Thomas did all of that. And he did it well. He was damn good at his job, and there were political aspirations on the horizon that were fifty percent his own, and fifty percent his family’s. Thomas had known from kindergarten just where his life was going. The tracks were already set, all he could do was keep trundling down them. 

But this trip, this brief foray into the unknown had been bracing, in the best kind of way. A cold shower of the soul, as it were. An outsider’s perspective was always useful when it came to making the right choice. 

Of course, it didn’t hurt that the outsider in question was built like a brick shit house, to use his grandmama’s words, the very same ones she would have washed his mouth out for even thinking if she was still alive, God rest her soul. 

It was more than that he knew, if Thomas felt the urge to navel gaze and really look deep. James was handsome, and Thomas was going to read that book inside and out before it was all done, and leave his mark on the page. But beyond the physical, he found himself insatiably curious about the mental. The emotional. 

James Madison was a good looking puzzle. He just so happened to be the kind of man that Thomas was thinking he might want to spend some serious time with.

“What about a fork in the road? Say you’re sailing through your life. Everything is going good. And this upcoming thing isn’t an obstacle. It’s just a fork in the road. Two different paths. One isn’t better than the other. They’re just damn different. How do you decide which path you go down?”

There’s a warm, rumbling hum from deep in James’ chest, and Thomas’ fondness grows exponentially. James was the kind of man who thought through everything he said. Even the most trivial things were given heavy thought, and Thomas adored it. There was no rushing perfection, and there was no rushing James. 

“I’d have to go with my heart.”

James was also a man of few words. But those words always carried weight with them and seemed to sink in beneath Thomas’ skin. It was a good call, and one he was sure would sound trite or stupid from someone else’s lips. Follow your heart. What a novel concept. 

Thomas was going to keep that in mind when he got to his fork in the road. But for the moment, he had a little more time on this straight and narrow. Which meant he could take his kneading cat fingers and “accidentally” slip them beneath the collar of James’ shirt to feel the warmth of his skin and the strong cord of muscle beneath it. 

He was going to be a goddamn delight in the bedroom, and Thomas was eager to see this through to that point. There was an honesty in intimacy that you couldn’t fake. Even with a one night stand, you had to hand over some part of yourself, if only for a little while. 

There’s a soft intake of breath, and Thomas wonders what his mother would think about him taking all his cues from something so simple as breath. She’d either be impressed he could shut up long enough to listen, or rolling her eyes at him. 

“Clumsy me.” There’s something cat-like and pleased in Thomas’ tone when he speaks. Tonight might not be the night they make it upstairs. But a little skin against skin in the library was going to be more than enough to whet his appetite. 

For tonight, at least. 

One thing James had to learn was a universal truth that everyone who met Thomas had to learn. 

He was insatiable. Whether it be his appetite for life, for the finer things or even for the baser pleasures that came between the sheets after an evening of verbal fencing, there was nothing that Thomas wouldn’t go back for seconds for. Life was just too good to settle for anything less than the best.

Slowly, terribly slowly, Thomas starts to pull his hand away. And for one long second, he feels that pang of disappointment that he’s going to have to. But then James lays a hand over the top of his, smoothing out his knuckles until Thomas’ palm is flush with his shoulder. 

The touch sends a jolt right through him. What a silly life he was leading, where the touch of a man’s hand on his was enough to set his blood aflame. “You know…” He draws the words out, molasses slow and sweet on his tongue. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn’t have to work under the seams of your shirt.”

It’s a silly little ploy, the kind of thing you threw out there just to get a laugh or a reaction. The last thing Thomas expects is the good Lord blessing him with the sight of James standing and unbuttoning his crisp white shirt, one pearl button at a time. 

Inch by glorious inch, it reveals dark skin that all but glows in the firelight, and a soft cotton undershirt beneath. Thomas can’t remember the last time he had a drink of water, because his mouth is feeling like the Sahara. Parched. 

But for all the strong swell of muscle and the gentle taper of James’ hips, the thing that draws Thomas in the most is the light in his eyes. Bright. Playful. James was absolutely aware of what he was doing to Thomas, and that only made it better. 

Checkers was fun, but there was no holding a candle to a good game of chess. 

Thomas doesn’t look away from his lovely view as he reaches behind him to turn the dial and kill the gas to the wood burning fireplace. His drink had long been forgotten on the table next to James’ hand, the cut crystal whiskey glass cool to the touch, despite the growing warmth in the room. The whiskey stone at least kept the glass from sweating. Thomas hated to think what they would charge him for leaving rings on the table.

The sudden change of lighting cast the room in a different kind of darkness, a cooler kind of darkness that was washed out with the golden light of the streetlights being filtered in behind the linen curtains hanging over the windows. 

In the low light, the tail lights of a passing car catches against James’ belt buckle in a flash of red light. Thomas was not in any mood to be stopping for red lights right now. So he throws caution to the wind.

“How about we take this upstairs, lamb? I think I’m ready to call it a night.”

[ververa]

‘Dare’

This is the continuation of ‘Sucker for her’. It’s not exactly what I’ve planned, but I hope you like it 

Xandra x fem!reader

A glass of water – that's what you needed in the middle of the night. You couldn't sleep and hoped that the drink may help you. You went downstairs, though you didn't manage to make it to the kitchen, as you heard muffled moans. You rolled your eyes. Since your father wasn't home you're sure it was your sister and her boyfriend, who decided to make use of the fact that the house was almost empty. However as you moved on you could hear voices – and that definitely wasn't a male voice. What the actual fuck? You're just tired. You can't hear properly. You told yourself. You tried not to pay attention and just grabbed some water. But on the way back you couldn't help and came closer to the room. The door wasn't closed, and you wished they had remembered to lock them. It was indeed your sister, but not with her boyfriend. She was there with Xandra...

Your mind stopped working for a few seconds. You couldn't process what you had seen. You almost dropped the glass you're holding, but you composed yourself just in time to prevent revealing your presence. You came back to your room and sat on the bed. What you had seen broke your heart into pieces, but you couldn't cry. The tears didn't want to flow, so you ended up just sitting and blankly staring at the wall.

You found it stupid to feel like that. You’re well aware that Xandra could never look at you the way you wanted her to. Though, apparently, it was different with your sister. It was always like that. Everyone preferred your sister, because it was just easier to get to her. She was more outgoing and probably more likeable. You got used to it and tried not to care, but after finding out she had an affair with your crush… That was too much. You couldn’t help, but started to hate her. You didn’t know how to deal with all pent-up emotions, so you began to avoid them both. You tried hard to remain invisible and that seemed to work.

Since you didn’t have much of a social life, you were spending most of your time on learning. At the end you’re thankful for that, because you sailed through all your exams and were ready for holidays. As every year you’re going to your uncle’s mansion – far away from the city. You used to go there with your parents, but that time you and your sister were supposed to go there alone. For the first time you were happy to go there. It seemed to be a perfect way to try and forget all that had happened. Or rather it would be if it hadn’t been for unexpected change of plan and your father deciding that Xandra should go there too and keep and eye on you.

How could you forget all that you had seen; how could you forget about her, when she was once again so close to you.

“This is a bottle of wine from my vineyard” your uncle stated while pouring the beverage into glasses “So, Xan… Can I call you that?” she was about to answer, but he kept on speaking “How did you and my brother meet?” he asked handing her a glass of wine “He had always been the lucky one. Great job, wife, children… and now such a cookie like you”

Xandra looked at him with a pity. He had always been a flirt, but at that moment you found it disgusting. It made you feel uncomfortable.

“No offence, but Xandra is out of your league” you said before you could stop yourself

Everyone looked at you surprised.

“Nobody can compete with dad” you added quickly

Xandra took a sip of the wine looking at you.

“Where’s Y/N’s glass?” she asked

“She’s too young to drink” you uncle said

“Is she? She’s not underage. She’s allowed to drink”

“My brother would kill me if I’d let his precious daughter drink”

“Well, it seems that you’re gonna be too little forever” your sister joked

“Yeah…” you lowered your gaze

Your uncle and sister moved to go outside, but you didn’t feel like spending time with them any more. You lowered your gaze waiting for Xandra to join them, so that you could go to your room. But instead of going to them the woman stopped in front of you. She bent over in her slinky dress and you needed to fight yourself not to look at her breasts. Xandra gave you that wicked smile and placed a glass of wine on the table in front of you.

“It’s not too bad to to be the little one sometimes” she winked and left

Xandra seemed to be in a good, actually great, mood. It was probably because of your sister – you thought to yourself. Seeing her happy, with that beautiful smile on her face was making you warm from inside. You hated it. You didn't want to feel like that. The fact that you knew about Xandra and your sister was only making things worse. You couldn't spend time with them like you used to, because you noticed every little gesture. Every knowing look that they exchanged. And that hurt. You wished you could be oblivious. Live a reasonably normal life and survive until your graduation. You thought it couldn't get any worse, but it turned out differently.

After 3 days your sister invited her new boyfriend and a group of friends to join you at your uncle's place. You hated the idea of spending time with them all and Xandra didn't seem to be happy either. Since their arrival she was mostly frustrated, even angry. And it was getting worse, as when it came to showing any kind of affection your sister didn’t really care if she and her boyfriend were alone or not.

That evening, as you all had a couple of drinks, it was even more intense and Xandra barely managed to stay calm. Your sister's friends suggested that spinning the bottle can be a great fun. You didn't really want to play, but since even Xandra agreed you decided to give it a try. It wasn't that bad. Actually it was quite funny, until the bottle stopped on you.

"Truth or dare?" your sister asked

"Dare..." you said

"Well then... I dare you to kiss the next person on who the bottle stops"

"I... "

"You chose 'dare'. You can't change it now"

"That's ridiculous"

"No"

"Yes"

"That's how the game works"

"It doesn't change the fact that it's ridiculous and stupid..."

"Spin the fucking bottle!" Xandra cut you off taking another sip of her drink

And you did. As the bottle was spinning you're giving yourself a pep talk. It's only a kiss. You'll just kiss one of the guys. That's not a big deal... But the bottle didn't stop on any of your sister's friends. It stopped on Xandra.

Suddenly you felt dizzy. All the alcohol you had hit you at one moment. Your vision became hazy and you felt too hot. Xandra looked at you. She seemed to be unaffected and you wished you could be too. Why the hell it has to be her?

"Come on" they encouraged

You looked at them then again at Xandra. She pulled her hair to the one side

"Do it!" your sister said impatiently

You took a deep breath and moved towards the woman. As you knelt down before her your eyes met. You weren't sure if that was only your hazy mind or if her pupils for real dilated, but it made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Go on" she whispered only for you to hear You closed your eyes and slowly leaned in to capture her perfect lips with yours.

You pecked her lips and were ready to move away, but unexpectedly she pulled you closer by your shirt and deepened the kiss. It wasn't you who was kissing any more. It was her. She took the control over and with every passing second you're melting more and more in the pleasurable feeling. You didn't know how long kiss lasted. You got lost in her touch and the only thing you could hear was the guys whistling and cheering. Until your sister cut them all off and interrupted your kiss saying

"Enough is enough, don't you think Y/N?"

You immediately pulled away and would stumble into the coffee table, which was behind you, if it hadn't been for Xandra who held you up by your waist. Your eyes met again and you could swear she was smirking.

"You can sit back on your seat" your sister said

"I..." you stood up nervously "I need some fresh air" you said and before anyone manage to say something you left

You came back to your room and sat on the bed thinking of what had just happened. You touched your lips and closed your eyes remembering the sensation of Xandra's mouth on yours. You didn't expect anyone to come and check on you, but she did. She knocked and not waiting for your response she entered. You turned back and saw Xandra with a sly smile on her face.

"You okay?" she asked

"Y-yeah" you said

Xandra moved and sat down next to you

"You don't have to do that" you said

"Do what?"

"Checking on me or babying me. I'm not a child"

"I'm not doing it. And you definitely aren't a child"

You looked at her confused.

"You still own me a dare, you know" she continued

"Whooa... What?"

"You left..."

"Because you kissed me"

"No. You kissed me"

"Well, yeah... But then you kissed me. Why did you do that?"

"I just took what's mine"

"What?! I'm not yours! You don't own me. I'm not my sister"

"Oooh wow. I didn't know you're a jealous type"

"I don't even like you"

"You don't?" she asked visibly amused

"No"

"No?" she arched her eyebrow playfully

"No!" you shook your head

"I think you do. Why would you wear all those short dresses or that damn shorts if you wouldn't?" she moved closer to you

Once again she was so close that you could feel her hot breathing on your face. You couldn't help, but look at her lips.

"You want it, don't you?" she smirked

You wanted to say no, you should have said no, but your body was already moving towards her. Before you knew Xandra was kissing you again. You moaned into her mouth at the feeling of her tongue dominating yours.

"You taste like vodka" she stated against your lips as she pulled away

"Sorry" you said not sure what to do

"You're so sweet. My god. It seems that I’ve chosen the wrong sister" she leaned in and kissed you again "Let Mommy make it up to you" Xandra smirked

The woman stood up and locked the door.

"Now, nobody will interrupt us" she looked at you fondly "Take off your clothes" she ordered

You looked at her

"I... We..."

"Oh, honey, don't be nervous" she gave you a quick reassuring kiss "Come on" she helped you to get rid of your shirt "I'll show you things you've never done" she kissed you again "I'll make you feel like never before" she smiled pushing you on to the bed

You let her took off your jeans and panties, but as she did so, you started to shy away. Your legs closed instinctively, but Xandra only smiled sweetly. She began kissing down your neck. As you're melting into her kisses your thighs fell open.

"There you go" she said soothingly "See how your body responds, already knowing who it belongs to baby girl"

Let me know what you think and if you’d like to be tagged in future works

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [9/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #gold #warriors #gods in disguise

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

“Just going to put this out there, but if breaking into a flower shop is your idea of a first date, it might explain your lack of game,” Jason remarks. Tim glares up from the rear door where he’s disabling the building’s paltry security system. The other man sniggers, the sound echoing through the vocal modulator of his helmet. “Too soon?”

“You’re an ass,” Tim informs him, clipping a wire to ensure there will be no outgoing calls to the alarm company.

Jason is still chuckling as he picks the lock to get them in. He’d complained when Tim insisted on no unnecessary smashing of their way into some innocent owner’s shop. Thankfully, he’d also yielded with an uncharacteristic lack of fight.

Vigilantes cause enough property damage fighting the villain of the week, we’re not going to send some poor guy’s insurance premiums up because the Red Hood wants to kick in a door.

“How come you never broke into a flower shop for me?” Steph wants to know, voice crackling across the comms.

“That ship sailed when you hit me in the face with a brick,” Tim mutters as he and Jason slip through the rear entrance and begin looking around.

“Hold a grudge much?”

“Looks like the roses are back here,” Jason says, shining a flashlight into a cold storage display. “Think the color affects the spell?”

“Everything about this is cliché already, so I’m guessing it has to be red,” Tim deadpans, digging into his belt for a few bills to pay for their break-in and theft. Meanwhile, Jason reaches into the display and removes a bunch of red roses.

“Gotta say, this is easier than the usual job. Kind of lackluster.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Feeling cheated? I could queue up the Mission Impossible soundtrack for you on my phone.”

“More like Beauty and the Beast, given the situation.” Jason considers and then snorts, “Actually, definitely like Beauty and the Beast. You know that story was actually based on our annoying feathered friend?”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. In the original version of the myth, an oracle tells this girl Psyche she’s destined to marry ‘a monster that neither god nor mortal can resist.’”

“Eros.”

“Bingo.” Jason pauses, seeming to remember where they are, and then clears his throat, holding up the flora. “So, we good? Ready to channel your inner Zatara?”

“Only if I can be Zatanna.”

They leave the shop.

“Go for it. I’ve met that cousin of hers. He’s a douche.”

Tim laughs out loud. It’s not anything he hasn’t heard before—or agreed with.

The comms crackle then, bringing him back to present.

“Are you flirting?” Steph asks, sounding amused and awed. “Oh my god, you are. This is totally you flirting with each other, isn’t it?”

“We’re not flirting,” Tim grumbles, looking away from Jason, pulling his cowl down a little lower to hide his warming cheeks. He had completely forgotten about the open commlink.

“I’m flirting,” Jason confirms without shame. “But I’m allowed. I have a note.”

“You are both embarrassments,” Damian disdains.

“I think it’s cute,” Steph coos. “I know it’s temporary and all, but we should give them a ship name.”

“A what?”

“A name for their relationship. A portmanteau. All the celebs do it. Like Kimye. And technically Tim is a celebrity, so—”

“Keep the comms clear,” Dick growls, attempting to mimic the Batman voice, but there’s a tightness to it that screams discomfort. “And no names in the field.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Aw, are we makin’ you blush, Dickhead?” Jason jeers. “I thought you out of everyone would appreciate a good flirt…”

“Not when it involves my brothers. Magically induced feelings or not, I don’t need a play-by-play…”

“Consider this repayment for all the times I walked in on you and Kori at the Tower,” Tim says easily.

Dick groans. “You really did grow up mean.”

Jason roars with laughter.

“This surprises you?” Damian interjects. “He had a hit list of potential threats with all of us on it.”

Jason whistles. “Seriously? Babybird, I’m impressed! Also, annoyed—how am I the only one that gets labeled the bad one?”

“Because you don’t understand the meaning of subtle.”

“Careful, Robin, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Can we just get out of here?” Tim mumbles, ears still burning a bit.

It’s not like he’ was trying to flirt or lead Jason on in any way. It just seems like treating this enforced dynamic lightly, trying to find some humor in things, makes everything seem a little less…terrible.

And okay, maybe he’s kind of enjoying the fact their recent interactions are lacking their usual bite. When he was a kid, he dreamed about befriending Robin; after Jason died and even after he resurrected, that became something impossible.

But this, even in the backdrop of a horrible situation, it’s like getting a taste of that.

Which is dangerous, since it’s not going to last.

No matter how tightly Jason holds Tim’s hand as they speed toward Robinson Park, or continues to watch him as they park Redbird under camouflage nearby. He can’t know for sure, but he suspects that under the helmet, Jason may be smiling at him.

Like he’s his favorite person in the world.

But that’s why Eros said he was the one who had to do that, right?

It still sucks.

“Everyone in position?” Dick’s voice crackles over the comm line. “Batman – north quadrant.”

“Robin – south quadrant. This is still a bad idea.”

“Most of our ideas are bad ones. Batgirl – east quadrant.”

“Red and Red at the drop point,” Tim says, scanning the open glade they’ve chosen. “We’ve got the west quadrant once we set the trap.”  

He crouches down on the ground and sets to work.

“You really think an electric cage is gonna be enough?” Jason asks as he loiters beside Tim, twirling the rose between thumb and forefinger. “Considering her talents avoiding capture, Carrie Cutter probably knows how to get out of a trap.”

“Which is why we distract her and knock her out as soon as we confirm she has the diviners,” Tim reminds him as he finishes placing the electromagnetic field generators in the ground. Rather than dig up the earth, he hides them beneath debris and branches.

“Which is why you distract her, and I knock her out,” Dick reminds over the comms. “You two are to get clear of the area as soon as the spell is done.”

“Father would not approve of us relying on spells.”

“Luckily B’s not here,” Jason replies, using a knife to sharpen the rose’s stem to a point. “Now what?”

“Eros said we have to join hands, and then you have to say this—” Tim digs into his belt and passes the ripped magazine cover, “—apparently it invokes the words of Eros. I can’t read it, but he said you could.”

Jason takes the page.

“How the hell would I know how to—oh.”

“I guess the same way you were speaking ancient Macedonian?”

“Looks like.”

“Anytime now, imbeciles,” Damian snaps in their ear. “The sooner this foolish plan fails, the sooner I can say ‘I told you so’ and return home.”

“Sounds like the toddler’s gettin’ cranky,” Jason snorts. “Must be past his bedtime.”

“At least he’s being optimistic,” Steph points out. “Assuming we’re getting back home and all.”

“Once again you’ve displayed your tendencies towards selective hearing, Fatgirl, I said I intend to return home, not that I expected you to do the same.”

“Charming,” Tim drawls.

“Damian’s right,” Dick interrupts. “Let’s get this over with.”

There’s a moment of fumbling where Tim grabs the rose so that Jason can use one hand to hold the incantation and take hold of Tim’s with his other.

Tim stares down at their joined hands, Jason’s on top of his; he notes the collection of scars on the backs of his knuckles. Knuckles his face has been intimately acquainted with in the past—

“Here goes,” Jason mutters, brandishing the invocation. When he next speaks, it’s in a language Tim has never heard before, as incomprehensible as what he was saying the other day when he nodded off during the movie.

And yet it still sends shivers down Tim’s spine.

The rose glows with golden light and then flies out of his hand to hover in the air above them.

“What’s next?”

“He said something about palms together, so—”

They readjust their hands.

“No, wait, yours should be on top,” Jason suggests. “Minimize the chance of you getting in on this oh-so-fun obsession thing.”  

“Yeah, hard pass…”

As soon as their hands are horizontal over the ground, the rose gives a pulse of energy and then shoots downward, piercing fully through both their hands.

“Motherfucker!” Jason shouts.

Like Tim, it’s probably only years of training that keeps them from jerking their hands away from each other with the rose still piercing them.

“What happened?” Dick demands.

“We’re embracing a new career as human pincushions,” Jason snarls.

“He didn’t tell me what was going to happen,” Tim says through gritted teeth; the pain is nothing compared to what any of them have been through, but it still makes his stomach twist like he wants to throw up.   

Blood wells around the stem of the rose, sliding around their hands and dripping onto the ground. They stay completely still, waiting for the flow to drip to an end and then stop completely.

In that instant, the rose vanishes like nitrocellulose paper, freeing their hands. Jason shakes his hand, still cursing as he studies the wound, while Tim kneels in the dirt to etch the symbol of Eros into the ground.

There’s a golden shimmer against the grass, and then—

Nothing. 

Tim won’t lie, he sort of expected more smoke and explosions or some indication that something magical was about to happen.

From the way Jason’s head tilts to one side, he expected the same. “Now what?”

“Now we wait, I guess. She’s human, it’s not like she’s going to teleport here I guess.”

“She has been taking the slow route so far…”

“Take advantage of it,” Dick orders. “Get to cover.”

“And no making out,” Steph says cheerfully. “No one wants to hear sucking noises.”

“Seriously, Batgirl?”

“Why would you say that?” Damian sounds scandalized.

“Muting our comms then. Wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities,” Jason says, tapping the side of his helmet. There is a chorus of complaints and disgusted groans in the background. A beat later, his shoulders tense like he’s wincing and he glances at Tim, head ducked down. “Sorry. That made it sound like—”

“No, they’re being jerks,” Tim says as he mutes his own comms. “Let them stew.”

Jason’s mischievous, conspiratorial laugh is entirely worth the flack Tim knows he’s going to get from Dick later.

They retreat to their designated spot, crouching down to await the supposed arrival of their query.

“I was sort of expecting us to be struck by lightning or something,” Jason admits after several minutes, drumming his fingers against his thigh in a quick and nervous rhythm. His other hand keeps reaching for the catch of his helmet, then jerking back downward, like he’s fighting the impulse to pull it off. Whether to tear at his hair or scrape at the skin of his neck, Tim isn’t sure, but either compulsion worries him.

He’s been good so far tonight, ever since they all got their marching orders, but now that he’s sitting still, he’s clearly without a distraction.

Tim stretches across the small distance between them and takes his hand in his.

“Struck by lightning, huh?” Tim says, swallowing against the awkwardness. He can feel Jason’s eyes on him from beneath the helmet. “Looking to defect to the Allen family?”

“Well, red is my color,” Jason jokes tensely, then shrugs. “Actually, I was thinking in terms of the gods. It happened a lot in all the myths, where if you pissed someone off Zeus would fry you with a bolt of lightning. Or, you know, Hera would trick some poor girl to ask to see Zeus’s in all his immortal glory and then she’d get fried.” He snorts. “Almost all the myths basically boil down to trouble started because Zeus couldn’t keep it in his pants.” 

“Clearly,” Tim mutters. “Guess Flash and Kid Flash were lucky they got powers instead of dead. Somehow the Big-Pile-Of-Dust doesn’t have the same charm as Scarlet Speedster.”

Things go quiet again.

Out in the open, there’s still no sign of Carrie Cutter. Tim wonders if maybe this whole thing really is just Eros having fun at their expense.

Oh well. Even if it all turns out to be a bust, this is keeping Jason’s mind occupied. Better than anything we could do for him locked up in the manor…

“I’m glad it was you I was working with at the time, and not Grayson or the bat brat,” Jason says suddenly.

“Why’s that?” Tim asks absently.

“Because you’re not family.”

Tim tries not to react. He’s had punches to the gut that hurt less than that.

It’s pretty much what I figured, but still…

“At least not the way they are,” Jason continues, oblivious to Tim’s reaction. “Nightwing wasn’t around much when I was a kid, but it was like having an older brother in college or something, right? Anytime I picked up the phone to bitch about the old man, he’d take the call.”

Tim swallows, needing a beat to ensure his voice doesn’t sound heavy, and ventures, “Did you…do that often?”

He’s not sure how to take the older man’s sudden candidness.

“More than you’d think. Not the first year—he still wasn’t that real to me before then, just a name I kept getting compared to. Also, he was always fighting with B, or treating me like his replacement.”

“Imagine that,” Tim says wryly.

“What, you thought you were the only one to get the cold shoulder?”

“His cold shoulder didn’t involve causing permanent scarring.”

Jason winces. “Fair.”

“Forget it. I told you before, water under the bridge,” Tim dismisses. “How’d you end up making good with N, back then?”

“I ran away. Tried to make it on my own because B was being…you know. Shit went down and I came back to the manor, and then Dickiebird showed up and told me about how he ran away shortly after B took him in.”

Tim blinks. “I never knew that.”

“Must’ve been before you took up your stalking hobby,” Jason says, and Tim can hear the grin in his words. “After that, he was more real to me. And he tried to actually be there. Except when he was off-planet.” He pauses for a moment, thoughtful, and Tim remembers that that’s where Nightwing was when Jason was making plans to go to Ethiopia. “And then with the brat—we come from the same place. Mothers sold us out, don’t play well with others, never really had a childhood…trying to toe B’s stupid line when we know it’s never gonna work…”

“You don’t know that.”

“Agree to disagree, Timbers. The point is, with those two, I get it. They’re family, even if I don’t want them to be. But you—”

Tim’s shoulders slump. “Not damaged enough?”

“Bullshit, you’re plenty damaged. You chose this shit, and there’s a special kind of insanity in that.” That should be an insult, but Jason’s tone is admiring. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m relieved. That I’m fixating on you and not—look, I couldn’t take the incest guilt on top of losing my mind. It’s one less thing to hate myself about.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, Tim thinks, especially that bit about Jason hating himself. He opens his mouth to say something about it, but then Dick’s voice growls, “We’ve got company. Everyone stay sharp.”

Looks like we’ll have to table things until later…

A motorcycle speeds into the park, the growl of the motor shattering the otherwise quiet night. The woman upon it, clad in green combat gear and without a mask or even a helmet over her bright red hair, practically leaps off the bike without stopping, letting it skid to one side.

Her eyes are wild, and her arms snap out in front of her in an oddly zombiesque. Tim understands the reason for the latter when he takes note of the wrist-mounted crossbows on both hands.

Ten to one those are Eros’ diviners.

Cutter marches straight up the sigil, which shimmers and vanishes, and she stops, looking around.

Tim’s finger hovers over his wrist computer, waiting with bated breath as she edges closer and closer to the trap.

“Come on,” Jason murmurs under his breath, attention fixed on that as well.

“Where is he?” Cutter growls and Tim is surprised at how rough her voice is compared to the way she’s sounded in various interrogation videos he’d used for research. “This is his blood, so where is the brat?”

She finally takes the final step and Tim engages the cage.

Fingers of electrical energy spring to life around her, creating a contained dome around Cutter. She snarls, trying to jump backward, but the forcefield keeps her immobile. She can’t even move her arms.

Across the clearing, Dick materializes from the shadows in silence.

 “Be careful, Batman,” Tim cautions in a low voice. “The electric field was supposed to knock her out.”

“If you really thought it would be that easy, you haven’t been doing this long enough,” Jason murmurs.

Tim ignores that. “The field will keep her from shooting you while she’s in there, but the minute I deactivate it, she’ll try something. Get her disarmed first.”

“It’s like you think this is my first time,” Dick mumbles before he growls out his imitation of Bruce, “Carrie Cutter. You made a mistake coming to Gotham.”

The woman’s slightly manic expression freezes on her face and then smooths into something predatory. “Oh, I see. So, you’re the Batman. I have to say, I’m underwhelmed.”

Dick remains silent, and Jason snorts, leaning in a little too close to Tim to murmur, “Wonder how hard it is for him right now not to make a joke.”

Tim grins.

“Your murder spree ends tonight,” Batman says. “If you cooperate, it will go better for you.”

“Isn’t that what every guy says?” Cutter purrs. “What if I like it a bit rough?”

“It’s up to you. You’re getting arrested either way, but if you work with me, I can ensure a lighter sentence.”

Tim can practically hear Jason grinding his teeth at that. He nudges him.

 Now’s not the time for a rant about Red Hood’s brand of justice…

“That’s awful accommodating for the Big Bat. I must have something you want,” the woman muses, shifting as she continues to test the bounds of the forcefield. She glances down at the ground and then snorts. “You’re working with Eros. The little brat wants his toys back, doesn’t he?”

Damn. So much for surprise.

“And if you give them up without bloodshed, we can figure out a deal.”

Her expression becomes pinched. “What makes you think I care about deals?”

“Because without making one, you wouldn’t have been able to steal those in the first place.” He gets closer until he’s looming over her. “Tell me who helped you steal the diviners. If I know who it is, I can protect you from them better.”

“Protect me,” she repeats. “What makes you think I need protection?”

“I already have intel that says the only ones who know about the diviners and how to wield them would have to be Olympians or beings of similar nature. They don’t tend to be the most altruistic—or forgiving.”

“Well, you have a point there,” Carrie agrees with a smirk, and Tim suddenly has a really bad feeling about this. “But then, I knew what I was getting into when I struck my little bargain.”

“We can help you,” Batman insists. “You don’t have to be alone in this, Carrie.”

“Now see,” she purrs, “your mistake is thinking I came here without their help.” Her eyes burn a bright, unnatural red, and her entire body begins to glow. “Or that we mind a bit of bloodshed.”

⁂

“Well, that, wasn’t in her files,” Tim remarks lightly, in a mild voice that tries not to betray the ‘oh shit we’re screwed’ sentiment of the moment.

“I’m not usually one for negotiations, but I think that means they failed,” Jason remarks.

“Your grasp of the obvious is impeccable!” Damian sneers across the comms.

Jason can’t help blink as Cutter seems to draw into herself, her back rounding and arms tucked in before she emits a wordless growl. She shoves her hand right up and through the electric cage holding her—and wraps it around Batman’s throat faster than he can avoid it.

I know she’s enhanced and all, but something tells me she’s not usually that fast!

Sparks sizzle and fly as the cage around her shorts out, and she lifts Batman over her head.

Or strong.

Freed from the cage, Cutter pulls back her left arm, priming the miniature crossbow on it. Jason doesn’t hesitate—he’s got his guns out and takes two shots in rapid succession, hitting both her wrists directly where the devices are attached.

Cutter curses as they fall to the ground, dropping Batman, who immediately tries to reach for the discarded diviners. A steel-toed boot to the chest and more force than should be possible stops him, leaving him momentarily winded on the ground.

“Converge!” Tim orders. “Don’t let her pick up those weapons again!”

“No, I thought we’d let her have them, she seems so reasonable!” Steph snarks, but is already dashing from her hiding spot.

“Hood—get the diviners while she’s distracted!”

“Easier said than done, Red!”

Steph reaches Cutter first, lunging forward with a right hook that is neatly evaded. Cutter grabs her by the shoulders and shoves her downward, kneeing her in the face. As Steph stumbles back, trying to shake off the blow, Cutter backhands her.

Dick is back on his feet, kicking out with a roundhouse that Cutter ducks before grabbing hold of him again. Undeterred, he headbutts her and this time it’s Cutter that staggers back, reeling enough for a front-kick that nearly downs her.

“Stay down, Carrie,” he growls.

“It’s cute you think that’s going to happen,” she laughs. The timber of the sound doesn’t seem quite right for some reason. 

As she rallies, she aims a kick to Tim’s face when he tries to get close enough to grab the diviners, forcing him to bend backward. Jason snarls, whipping a knife at her face in retaliation, which she catches and lobs back at him, forcing him to bend backward to avoid it.

As reaches for a gun, Steph recovers, trying for a downward chop to Cutter’s blind spot. However, the redhead rallies, manages to get an arm around her neck and hold Steph up, choking her in the crook of her elbow.

“Go on and take the shot, warrior,” Cutter taunts.

Goddamnit—she knows I can’t.

Normally he would, but his hands aren’t exactly steady today. Beyond that, he gets the sense that training or not, Cutter is a lot faster right now than she should be.

Damian materializes behind her and tries to clothesline her, but this fails as she whips around and punches him in the solar plexus, making him lurch backward.

“I never liked children...”

Dick’s attempted right hook fails, too. Cutter twists around and knees him in the jaw, all while Steph continues to struggle against the chokehold. Her arms slap uselessly against her adversary, who still has the strength to punch the still rallying Batman so hard he flies backward several yards, forcing Tim to duck out of the way or be bowled over.

Damn it. She’s taking them out too fast, there’s no opening to get the diviners.

Cutter throws Batgirl over her shoulder and into the ground, hard. Steph doesn’t move, and Cutter makes another attempt to pick up the diviners.

His line of sight clear now, Jason fires several rounds, targeting her joints, but somehow, she avoids them all.

“That…should not be possible.”

Jason knows his marksmanship capabilities, and unless she’s got precognition, she shouldn’t be able to avoid being hit.

Definitely faster than human. Either that, or she’s got tougher skin than expected and just isn’t bleeding.

As he pauses to reload, Red Robin creeps up behind her, once more trying to get his hands on one of the abandoned crossbows. Cutter spots him, grabs him by the folds of his cape and sends him flying straight at Jason, who’s forced to stop shooting and catch him.

“You okay?”

“Fine—let me up.”

Jason hesitates a minute.

Even with the body armor, he’s way too small…

“Hood!”

“Right—yeah,” Jason shakes his head, forcing himself to remember the fact they’re in the middle of a fight.

Several yards away, Damian darts back again, this time with a sword that Jason’s sure he’s not supposed to have with him. He swings in an underhand arc at her unguarded back, but she whirls around, diverts the blow by catching and pushing away the hilt. Robin is already twisting his body around, trying to aim a downward swipe to her abdomen—and she bends back to avoid it with ease. He makes a third attempt, slices the blade overhead again, and she dodges it by inches, the steel passing harmlessly over her. He doesn’t get a fourth shot, as this time she grabs hold of his hands where they grip the sword and throws him away from her, sword and all. The blade slips from his hands as he skids to the ground, rolling several times in the dirt.

Tim’s sprinting forward again, bo staff at the ready, but Cutter is ready to catch him, neatly avoiding his attempt to shatter her collarbone with the staff. Still, he turns, using the momentum to follow through, shoving the staff backward to hit her abdomen. Before it can connect, her hands fasten around the staff, and she tries to pull him forward. Red Robin evades her hold the first time, freeing his staff and comes back around with an overhand swing from the right, but Cutter dodges, shoving a palm at his sternum and sending him flying into Batman.

With Tim clear once again, Jason lets loose another volley of gunfire, stalking forward. His accuracy improves the closer he gets—he can see her clothing shred in places as the bullets glance by. She seems to notice this too, because then she’s bending forward and kicking out, foot under Batgirl and sending her directly into Jason’s path, forcing him to drop his weapons and catch the other vigilante.

“Oof! Did you gain weight?”

“Rude. You didn’t say that to Red Robin.”

“He doesn’t have your ass.”

“He wishes he had my ass,” she replies, pushing off Jason and crawling off to the side.

“You’re both asses,” Tim grunts across the comms.

“Once again you state the obvious,” Damian puffs. He’s recovered by now, sword back in hand, and is unsuccessfully trying to swipe Cutter’s knees from underneath her. Somehow Cutter manages to slip beneath his guard and kick him in the chest, forcing him into the same heap where Steph and Jason are struggling to their feet.

Tim gets up again, dashes forward to jab with his bo that Cutter continues to avoid. He rolls it over his wrist, changes his grip like he’s holding a baseball bat and tries to sweep her legs out from under her. She avoids that and neatly moves to one side as the energizer bunny that is Damian returns to the fray.

Instantly, the two birds take up positions on either side of her, Robin slicing downward, forcing her to jump again, while Red Robin attempts to knock her out from above.

Somehow, Cutter’s body appears to scissor, and she executes a complicates midair flip that twists her almost horizontally between the two swinging blades.

Holy shit, it’s like Raiders of the Lost Ark…

As she lands, the guys move in sync to hit her with their weapons, but she fastens her hands around theirs and with seemingly no effort, spins and throws them off in a whirl of counterclockwise motion. They land close to Steph and Jason, and Cutter is left holding the bo and sword, which she curls her lip at in disgust, and launches them into the air with unnatural force.

Her eyes flit over them, narrowed in suspicion, before she suddenly whirls around to find Batman—and a well-placed right hook—waiting for her.

She falls hard to the ground, barely able to brace herself on the heels of her hands.

“It’s over, Carrie,” he says coolly.

She blinks guilelessly up at him and then smiles coldly. “'Flowers of this purple dye’.”

Dick’s mouth turns downward in confusion, but Jason feels like something’s just jolted his brain.

“'Hit with Cupid’s archery’,” he murmurs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steph asks.

“Batman, watch out—!”

Cutter swings her left leg out, hobbling Batman at the knees; as he moves in the air to regain his balance, Cutter gets hold of the nearest crossbow and stabs one of the tiny arrows into Batman’s thigh, somehow with enough strength to burrow past all the body armor.

“No!” Red Robin shouts as Dick groans in pain.

“Sink in apple of his eye,” Cutter singsongs, "when his hate he doth espy!”  Then she laughs and in a harsh language that resembles the one Jason used to summon her, “Hate them, Batman. Throw caution to the wind and kill them all.”

The arrow vanishes into stardust and Dick’s entire frame goes tense. Then, he slowly turns his head towards them. His mouth curls into a horrible smile, and beneath the lenses of his mask, Jason sees an unnatural red gleam.

“I’m guessing that was one of the lead tipped ones,” Tim murmurs.

“Yeah…that’s a complication,” Jason replies, stomach sinking.

Which is an understatement.

Dick Grayson is a force of nature on a good day—well on par with Bruce in terms of skill, maybe even better in other aspects. And Jason’s tangled with him a few times, both when he’s been in his right mind and with the human decency brainwashed out of him.

Neither one’s good.

Add the danger Dick poses to a murderous psychopath with the untold backing of an unknown god, and Jason will be really surprised if they make it out of this one alive.

“Hood,” Red Robin begins, both question and warning.

“I’ve got him,” Jason murmurs. “You guys deal with her.”

Cutter is priming the wrist-crossbow again, only for one of Robin’s incoming Batarang to knock it free.

“Oh, you’ve got me, do you, Little Wing?” Dick taunts, stepping forward. “Always with the overconfidence. That’ll get you killed. Again.”

“Right—because I haven’t heard that one a million times before.”

Dick winds up an overhand punch toward Jason’s head, which he ducks, and continues with a flurry of blows that Jason’s only just able to stumble back from.

“I always forget you’re fast like a freak,” he mutters, regaining his stance and throwing himself back at Dick. When the older man continues to avoid the assault, Jason tries to take him out at the knees instead.

Several yards away, the other Bats have surrounded Cutter and are trying to coordinate taking her down.

“Who are you?” Steph demands. “There’s no way you’re just Carrie Cutter in there.”

“Smart girl,” she purrs. “I hate smart girls.”

She tries to jam a knife hidden in her gauntlet in her face, but Steph ducks; Tim and Damian dive forward to pick up the slack.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me if it’s really me in here,” Dick sneers at Jason, drawing his attention once again. “Or trying to convince me this ‘isn’t me’.” He kicks his heel to Jason’s chest, knocking him back. “Appeal to my better self?”

“You forgettin’, Dickhead?” Jason pants. “I’m the only one that knows you don’t have a better self. Just a pretty-boy smile and a horseshoe up your ass.” He jumps to his feet. “Been telling everyone for years that you’re just a tool. This is just confirmation.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Dick grunts, going for an overhead roundhouse, and when that doesn’t work, aiming low. As Jason staggers back, Dick slices at him with a Batarang, penetrating the thick material of his gear and sending a spray of blood into the air.

In the background, the fight with Cutter doesn’t appear to be going any better.

“Was Carrie Cutter aware you were going to take over her body?” Tim demands of Cutter. “Or did you trick her?”

“As if there was anything to trick—we have an arrangement. And luckily, we both like raising a little hell!” She sends both Tim and Steph flying backward and then gets a hold of Damian as he swoops in from behind. “Wanna see how much?”

And she’s got one of the diviners in her hands again, ready to bring down an arrow on the kid’s head.

Ensorcelled demon-brat is not something we need right now!

Jason barely thinks, throws himself forward and rolls beneath Dick’s grasping gauntlet, skidding across the grass and dirt to knock Damian out of the way. Cutter’s weapon is still on a downward trajectory, and there’s no time to grab anything to block it.

But he doesn’t need to.

Without true thought or intent, the pulsing energy of the All-Blades simmers into being, manifesting in his hands and topping Cutter’s arrowhead inches before it hits him. There’s a small wave of impact that separates them, but judging from Cutter’s expression, that’s not what puts her off guard.

She stares at the blades a beat, before the red flashes in her eyes again.

“All-Caste,” she snarls.

Jason smirks. “Yeah, I’m not just a pretty face.”

“You’re about to have no face!”

They disengage, but not before Cutter manages to grab hold on her crossbows. Before their eyes, they vanish, transforming into twin double-edged blades, one gold and one black.

“Something you want to share with the class, Hood?” Damian asks, spinning his own sword in his wrist.

“Not now. Go help the others deal with Batman,” Jason orders.

“You’re outmatched—”

“We’re all outmatched if you don’t stop your mentor over there, now go!”

He and Cutter cross blades, sparks and energy flying before they disengage to circle one another.

“Tt.” But the kid darts off to where Steph and Tim are already flanking Dick defensively. “Apologies in advance, Richard. I’ll make it quicker than the last time.”

“Keep overestimating your abilities, brat,” Dick sneers in a voice he never uses on Damian. “You don’t even know how much I hold back with you.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Cutter tells Jason as they circle one another. “You really think this is a wise decision, boy?”

“I really think you look nervous,” Jason counters.

Cutter hisses, but there’s something uncertain in her eye.

“Not hard, I guess,” he continues, flipping out of the way of an attempted jab. “You’re as nuts as Arsenal said. You know Arsenal, right? Green Arrow’s protégé? He said GA said you were a delusional hot mess.”

The red in Cutter’s eyes flicker to green and back.

“Knew you were in there,” Jason goes on. “So, Carrie—was it you that sliced that kid’s throat, or your mystery passenger? Because you’re a lot of things—crazy being one of ‘em—but you’ve never killed kids.”

She falters for just a minute, and red glow vanishes.

At the same time, the blades in Jason’s flicker in and out of existence.

Crazy doesn’t mean evil—and when she’s not being possessed, clearly the All-Blades don’t consider Carrie Cutter to have gone completely dark side.

Cutter’s eyes dart to the blades, then back to Jason’s face, and she snaps her head forward, butting him hard enough he’s forced to let go of her.

In his periphery, Damian makes an angry noise and throws himself forward, earnings a broken nose for his trouble. Dick launches himself at Tim, who feints to one side and crouches down on his knees, turning and throwing two metallic disks at the older man. Electric beams crackle to life, only to die as Dick flings two Batarangs into them, destroying them in a fizzle of electricity and smoke.

“Look at this—the unwanted family screw-ups, getting along,” Dick mocks.

“Don’t pay attention to him, Robin,” Steph orders. “He knows what pushes your buttons.”

“Trying to be the Team Mom, Batgirl?” Dick taunts. “If you wanted that job, you shouldn’t have given up your own brat.”

“Batgirl—!” Tim warns, but Steph is already moving.

She vaults over Tim, who hasn’t gotten to his feet yet and somersaults in midair, heel coming down on Dick and knocking him into the ground. It downs him for a moment, but when she follows up with a left hook, Dick catches it and twists.

Everyone hears the snap of bone and Steph’s pained cry before Dick tosses her to one side. Tim hurries to check her.

“Uh-oh,” Cutter whispers, manic gleam in her eye once more replaced with glowing red. “Looks like things aren’t going too well over there.”

“Better than how things are going for you,” Jason replies, calling up his blades again.

Damian is taking a run at Dick, sliding between the older man’s wide stance and slicing the sharp edges of his gauntlets at Dick’s ankles, injuring the places not covered by armor. Dick goes down on his knees, and Damian is up, knocking him hard across the back of the head. But Dick jerks his head to one side, dodging the blow, and then reaches with his right arm to drag Damian over his shoulder and shoving him down on his back on the ground.

Winded, Damian struggles to breathe, and Dick draws back his hand like he’s about to crush the kid’s skull against the dirt. But then throws himself at him, knocking Dick away and the two of them roll to the ground.

There’s a brief tussle, and then Dick is on top of Tim, pinning his arms to his sides with his thighs. As Damian sails forward with a kick to the head, his arm snaps out, catching him and flipping the boy upside down. Then, laughing, he leans forward, forearm on Tim’s throat like he’s trying to crush it.

Jason’s concentration shatters. “No!”

Tim’s in trouble!

He’s already turning to go help, All-Blades vanishing, when he chokes, staring at the golden sword that suddenly protrudes from his abdomen.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

________________________________________________________________

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn't something you're comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

[starrynite7114]

traditions

A/N: The one-shot is finally done! I’m so excited about this, I hope you all enjoy this. I’m not even sure where this came from, but I always love writing one-shots since it’s a good way to keep the writing juices flowing. 

So... I am currently taking requests for one-shots for Angel! If you lovely peeps want one, please don’t hesitate to make a request! 

==========================

You giggled as Angel scrunched his face due to the flour you just threw at him. He shook his head in an attempt to remove the flour, but it hardly did the trick.

Currently, you two were baking cakes for the clubhouse Thanksgiving dinner. It was a tradition you two had started ever since Angel became a full patched member of the MC. Even if you wanted to stop, you knew Bishop would be calling you nonstop to bake some cakes and he would compensate you for them.

You never actually had them pay you for the cakes, but it was the thought that counted.

“Y/N, stop wasting flour,” he playfully scolded you.

“Says the man who spilled almost half the bag onto the floor?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging his words.

Angel laughed. “Come on babe, it was an accident. You shouldn’t have poked me on the side while I was trying to give you the bag.”

You smiled at his words, as you poured the last batch of cake mix onto a baking pan.

You met Angel during your freshman year of high school. Your sister and yourself recently relocated to Santo Padre after your mother had passed away. It was a hard move since you loved your life in Los Angeles and all your friends were there. But you couldn’t possibly live alone and if you were being honest, you only had your sister. Your father had another family so you barely even knew his siblings. Your mother had one sibling who lived in Texas and you two weren’t ready for that big of a move. Instead, your sister chose to live in Santo Padre since it was a lower cost of living. She worked an hour out in San Diego, so they were able to afford to live in Santo Padre.

At first, you kept to yourself, your way of rebelling about moving. But then you started to notice the boy who always sat next to you in your history class. Angel Reyes. He was the class clown to say the least and he always attempted to make small talk with you. You responded to be polite, but you never let the conversation go on for too long.

But due to Angel’s persistence, you became friends. And ever since freshman year, you’ve been inseparable.

Which makes things so much harder since you were irrevocably in love with him. You really did try to get over him, you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends, but somehow, they never last and you were right back in Angel’s arms. It wasn’t fair, but it’s not like you were complaining.

The most effort you’ve ever put forth was taking a job in San Diego. But you still came home to Santo Padre since Angel was there. Your sister moved out of Santo Padre and lived in Escondido with her family. While here you were, living in San Diego and still came to Santo Padre every weekend to see Angel.

It was pathetic, especially since you had no plans on telling him, but you couldn’t quit him now. You know you should and you eventually will, once he gets a girlfriend or old lady, whatever they call their girlfriends. You’ve seen your fair share of women that became Angel’s girlfriend, they never really lasted. Lately, he’s just been sleeping with the girls that hang around the club. You weren’t sure how safe that was, but you never tried to run Angel’s life.

“How’s your sister?” Angel questioned as you put the baking pans in the oven, setting the timer up.

“Living that new mother life.” You laughed. “She’s good, sending me numerous pictures of her baby a day.”

“That’s a little excessive, but I get it,” Angel wiped his hands with the towel on his shoulder before walking over to you and wiping off the flour on your face. You looked up at him, looking away immediately because you didn’t want to get lost in those brown eyes of his. “Is she trying to give you baby fever?”

“Ha, she can try,” you moved away from him so you can wash your hands. “My sister has been pestering me about my biological clock and you know,” you shrugged. “I’m not in a rush. I’m not that old.”

“Well, did you tell her that when you turn 32, which is in 4 years, if you’re still not attach then it’s you and me?”

When they were in high school, Angel had this dumb idea during their graduation that they should make a promise to one another. And what promise did Angel propose? That when you two were 32 years old and were still unattached, you two would get married. He said that by that time, he would get over the itch of wanting to sleep with everything that walked and would want to settle down, have a family. You happily agreed since what were the odds of you and Angel being single till 32?

Well now, you’re 28 and single. Even though there was still 4 years left, you didn’t see anything changing from then and now. Though, things were unpredictable. You were almost certain that Angel would be married before you and that was just sad. It’s not like you couldn’t date anyone, you’ve had your fair share of men, but no one stuck around. Maybe it was you since you insisted on making Santo Padre a staple, but really, it was Angel.

“Wait, were you serious about that?” Every year since you two were 18, Angel always brought it up. The first few years, you thought he was teasing you, but it just seemed more serious as the years went along. The hopeless romantic in you was screaming that maybe he was waiting for you, that he was playing with all these women so that when you two turn 32, from then on out, it would just be you and him. But the rational side of you just laughed at that preposterous idea.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Angel scrunched his face in confusion. “We would be perfect together. You understand me better than anyone else. Just a plus you’re hot.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing flour at Angel’s face once more. “You’re such a prick.”

Angel chuckled. “I’m serious though, unless you find someone because I sure as hell won’t.”

“Adelita doesn’t count?”

“Ship has sailed.”

“Okay,” you scoffed. With Adelita no longer in hiding you knew that Angel spent a majority of his time with her. You tried not to be jealous, but it was hard. Angel was sticking his neck out for her and you just couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

“You don’t believe me?” Angel challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Did I say that?” You looked at the timer and there was 15 minutes left. Adelita was a sensitive subject between you two, while you admired her prowess, you definitely did not admire the fact that she had Angel wrapped around her finger. It may have been the green eyed monster talking, but you didn’t care. Angel missed your birthday, an award ceremony for your work and your Friday night traditions due to her. It may have been petty, but these were the things you shared with Angel. Though, it may be unrealistic to assume that tradition or birthdays would not be missed, you couldn’t help it.

You never missed anything Angel did, all you wanted was the same consideration.

“Mi dulce,” you absolutely hated it when he spoke spanish to you, it was so sinful. “Are you jealous?” That annoying smirk appearing on his lips.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You wish Reyes.” Making your way out of the kitchen, you sat down on your couch, trying to find a way to get out of the clubhouse party tonight. You knew Adelita would be there, the MC was still weary of her, but they included her, thinking it would be a good sign of confidence. The last thing you wanted was to actually see Angel and Adelita interact. Usually, you can stand when a women flirted with Angel since you knew they wouldn’t last, but this was different.

It felt different.

“So, you don’t mind taking the cakes right?” You were already judging yourself before you could even get the lie out. Angel has taught you how to lie pretty well and you prayed it worked on him.

“Sure?” Angel chuckled, plopping down next to you, remote in hand. “We’re taking your car right? I’ll just leave my bike here since we’re doing our usual marathon after we grub.” Everything just seemed natural for you two and that’s what killed you. You promised yourself that you would end this cycle, that you would try to move on. And you weren’t going to cut off communications with Angel, that was idiotic. You’ll remain friends, all you had to do was set boundaries.

“No, I mean,” you bit your lower lip, thankful Angel was paying attention to the television. “I’m not going to the clubhouse.”

“The fuck you mean you’re not going?” All of his attention immediately went to you. If there was one tradition you two had not broken, it was having Thanksgiving Dinner at the clubhouse. No matter who you were dating or if you Angel had a tiff prior to Thanksgiving, without a fail, you would both be at Thanksgiving Dinner. Hell, it was a tradition that began your senior year of high school.

“Don’t be upset, I promised my sister I was coming to her house since it’s my niece’s first thanksgiving.” First lie. Your sister wasn’t even in town, she was in Las Vegas visiting her in-laws. But Angel didn’t know that.

“Okay, no big deal, we’ll drop the cake off and we’ll head over to your sister’s.” Angel turned his attention back to the television, not seeing the issue. The tradition wasn’t the clubhouse, it was spending Thanksgiving dinner with you.

“I’m bringing someone with me.” You don’t even know where that came from, but you figured if you were going to lie, you would go all out. Besides, Angel usually nodded his head at a mention of a date and left it at that.

As they said, go big or go home.

But you underestimated how much this tradition meant to him.

“Excuse me?” Angel’s attention was back to you once more, remote on the coffee table. “What do you mean?”

“My sister asked me to bring this guy I’ve been seeing since she hasn’t met him.”

Angel’s eyebrows furrowed at your words. You’ve never mentioned dating anyone to him. As much as he’s been distracted with EZ, Adelita and the MC, he always made sure he had time for you. There was no way a jerk off bypassed him.

“You’re lying, there’s no way you’re dating someone without me knowing.” Angel didn’t want to believe it. He knew you were a beautiful woman, but there’s no way he wouldn’t know. “You would have told me.”

“It’s not that serious, my sister is just bugging me to bring him cause she ran into us while we were on a date.” You were honestly shocked at how natural this lie was coming out, but you weren’t going to question it. You already committed to this lie.

Angel narrowed his eyes at you. It pissed him off that you would hide something like this from him. He didn’t give a shit if it wasn’t serious, this was something you had to tell him. What if this guy was a psycho and you went missing?

“Why didn’t you tell me? What if he was psychotic and killed you?” Angel wasn’t sure why his chest constricted at that mere thought, but it did. “How do you know him? Where did you meet? If you say online, I swear to god.”

You just looked at Angel, trying your best to keep up with this lie. You just didn’t want to go to the clubhouse. Given, you have spent Thanksgiving for the past 12 or so years, but you had to start pulling away. It was going to be easier for your to move on too.

“He’s a co worker of mine.” Well, shit. Of all the lies to say.

“Is it Rafael?”

Rafael was a sensitive subject for Angel. He was a co-worker of yours that you had become close to and Ange was not a big fan. Rafael looked like the typical pretty boy, with the slicked back hair and everything. He had hazelish eyes that would make any woman swoon. And it didn’t help matters that he caught you two in a compromising position.

“Yes,” again, you were surprising yourself at just how natural this lie was coming out. You knew Angel, when he was upset, he stayed away from you since he didn’t want to say thing she didn’t mean. “But again, nothing serious.”

“So you’re sleeping with him?”

“What?”

“You’re fucking him.”

Before you could answer, you were saved by the bell. The oven beep signaling the cakes were ready. Choosing not to answer Angel, you made your way to the kitchen to get the cakes out. You took them out, placing them on the counter, waiting for them to cool down you can put the frosting and such on.

“You didn’t answer me.” Angel was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He looked so damn good.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does to me. Of all people? Rafael isn’t even your type. He’s a prick.”

“You’re one to talk, you've slept with almost every woman that hangs around that clubhouse. Don’t be a dick and give me grief just cause I may be sleeping with Rafael.” You couldn’t exactly tell Angel that Rafael would much rather sleep with him than you.

“I’ll go with you, he can meet us at your sister’s.” Angel wasn’t going to let this last long. Rafael was just going to play with her and no one messes with you.

“Angel, it’s fine, we’re not staying long at her place.”

“Where is he going to take you? It’s fucking Thanksgiving.”

You took the cake out of the pan, placing it on the container.

“We’re going to Vegas.” You wanted to smack yourself for that comment.

“Excuse me?” Angel became even more irate.

Well, she was going to Vegas, her initial plan was to go tomorrow, but she much rather head out early. Rafael was going to go with her, but she hadn’t texted him of her change of plans. So technically, she wasn’t really lying.

“No big deal, just unwind since we have a 4 day weekend.” You knew you should have aborted this lie maybe 10 minutes ago. But you were already invested.

“You know what happens in Vegas? People fucking get drunk and marry people without knowing what the fuck is going on.” All these possibilities ran through his mind. You couldn’t handle your alcohol well, he knew that better than anyone. The last thing he wanted was for fuckboy to take advantage of that. “Not a problem, I can take some time off.”

“Angel, why are you inserting yourself in my plans?”

“Because I should have been in these plans in the first place.” He was annoyed, no, that was far too mild. He was already irritated, but it was beyond that. You always included him in your plans, it’s always been you and him and now, you made plans with someone during your traditional Thanksgiving Dinner. It didn’t matter where you two were, as long as you were together, that was the most important part. “It’s thanksgiving, this is our thing. It’s been years since I spent a Thanksgiving without you and this guy comes, now fuck our tradition?”

Fuck, he had you there. You just looked at him, not knowing what to say. As much as you wanted to move on, you couldn’t fuck with tradition right? You remained mum, as you continue to place the frosting on the cake. Angel walked over to you, hugging you from behind. He placed his forehead against the back of yours. You froze at the contact, not exactly sure as to why you froze up. Angel has touched you plenty of times, but it felt different.

“Come on querida, I’m not trying to fight. You’ve been distant lately. This is the most time I’ve spent with you in months.” It was true. You have been distant. But it wasn’t on purpose, sort of. Work has been piling up with the holidays coming up. And along with that, you’ve been going on dates lately and you just wanted to give these guys a fair chance. You were thankful he has been busy with club business. “What’s going on?”

You absolutely hated the position you were in. You spoke to Coco about this whole thing a few weeks ago. Angel couldn’t go and see you, so he had Coco come.

“You gotta tell him, hiding it, it’s just going to cause problems. I get it, you don’t want to jeopardize the friendship, but he’ll notice that you’re moving away from him.”

Coco has advised you to be truthful with Angel and yet, you couldn’t do it. Telling him was harder than anyone could even imagine. All you could think about was how he would reject you as gently as possible, and you couldn’t fathom that.

“I’ve just been busy with work,” you replied, softly removing his arms from around your body. Moving on the other side of the counter, you tried to put as much space between you and Ange.

“It feels like you’re running from me.”

“I’m not,”

“Are you with him?” You hear the slight anger in his voice, it was accusing.

“With Rafa? No, I’m not. Angel, can we please not do this? It’s Thanksgiving. The cakes are all done so I’m going to go home since I still have to pack.” You grabbed your purse that was on his arm chair and your jacket as well. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Come on, you’re really going to leave? If this is about Adelita, she won’t be there.” Angel wasn’t sure how to handle this situation. He wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted when it came to you. You were a sucker for him and he knew it. He tried not to take advantage of it much, but he couldn’t let this one go. Thanksgiving was the one tradition he wasn’t willing to break. Adelita wasn’t anything to him besides someone who mutually benefited him and still could. Sure, he wanted her, but he knew it was a moot point.

“That doesn’t really matter to me.”

“So why are you not going? You’re not even letting me go with you to your sisters. Thanksgiving is the one tradition we don’t break. Rafael cannot mean that much to you that you’re willing to break our tradition.” Angel licked his lips, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Are you trying to get back at me because I didn’t come to our Friday night movie marathons? I had club shit to do, I thought you understood that.”

“You serious right now?” You scoffed. “Angel, no one in this world understands more than me how much the club means to you, what you’re willing to do for the club. How can you even possibly think that I’m retaliating against you?”

“Because you fucking are,” Angel retorted. “You have no reason to be jealous of Adelita, I’m here for you, no one else.”

“Can you stop making it about her? Angel, we can’t always keep traditions. I’m sorry that I’m breaking our tradition this year, but we had to at some point. This is for my niece.” It was breaking your heart arguing with Angel like this. You knew how important tradition was to him. But you had to do this, breaking this Thanskgiving tradition was a drastic step in your ‘Moving on’ plan, however, it must be done.

“Then why can’t I come? Why can’t I be part of the tradition with your family? They’re my fucking family too. Am I not good enough for you now? You found someone better, so now, I can’t even come to fucking dinner?” His insecurities were creeping up. Angel always thought you were out of his league. That someone like you should have never been friends with him. Not due to your looks, but due to your ambitions. But in some ways, you were the only constant in his life. You’re the only person who supported him with no questions asked, but was also not afraid to call him out. You had him wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even realized it.

He only thought of three things: the club, his family, and you.

“Don’t do that, don’t put yourself down like that.”

“So what is it? You’re not going to marry Rafael or anyone else for that matter. In 4 years time, it’s going to be you and me, so why can’t I be part of this new tradition with your niece?” He challenged.

“Because I love you, Angel. I don’t want to be just your friend. I can’t keep going in this vicious cycle of hoping that you’ll one day wake up and love me.” You’re eyes went wide and you gasped at your confession. This was definitely not how you wanted to confess, but you couldn’t stop now. “I stayed away from you because I was practicing on how to live without you, but still have you. This whole ordeal of marrying in 4 years, you know that’s a hoax Angel. You’re going to get married and things won’t be the same. It’s better to break the tradition now, than to wait a year or 4 to do so.” You bit your lip. “I didn’t want you to find out this way, but just know that no matter what, I’ve always been thankful to have met you. Meeting you has been one of the best things in my life because you taught me how to love life again.”

With that, you rushed out of his home, basically running to your car. You were thankful that there were no footsteps behind you, yet disappointed as well. But it was better this way. You’ll let Angel digest your words and then eventually, you two would talk about it and figure it out.

As you pulled out of his driveway, you saw Angel run out of his house. You can hear him calling out for you. He ran towards your car and before he could even bang on your window like a romantic movie trope, you sped away.

“This is for the best, you can always try to repair your friendship later.” You sighed as you tried to drive as fast and safely away from Santo Padre, from Angel. “Traditions were meant to be broken.”

[csockets]

Prompt Challenge With Friends

I invited my friends, @bluemoonfantasiesii and @mahi-does-some-art, to join me in a writing a prompt posted on @write-it-motherfuckers‘s lovely blog~~

WIM, thank you for all your hard work!! I’ve always liked the prompts you’ve posted and sometimes I’d get inspired but I was never crazy inspired, you know? But until I saw “darling really” and there was such a sassiness that I couldn't help but like and I just, really wanted to writing something to go with it!! Low and behold, I did write something and I got to read my friends work in the process!

So, many thanks to Master WIM! Please enjoy my work under the keep reading line!!

The Prompt Used

Note: The characters  and the location: Loystin, are of my own creation! Azben Katrina is my OC not actually me! Adalant and Marcie are twin sisters. The Baboon King is a creature; an image I picked up from Google, used for reference then named it such because honestly, the creature looked baboonish lmao. Also, the world just might be it really is im sorry lmao heavily inspired by my sudden obsession with MXTX couples and the Xianxia novel genre. Any other questions can be answered through reblog, reply, or an ask!

Warnings: Minor blood and gore, profanity, possible same sex flirting, violence and probably more but im not too worried so *shrugs*

Adalant swore immediately.

“Why the fuck are we here?”

Azben grinned, tapping her chin with an elongated nail.

“To do a lil fun.”

Adalant growled, glaring heatedly at the huffing warrior.

“But you were sworn to ho--”

“Lalala, I can't hear you, lala--”

“You--”

“LALALA--” She laughed loudly, leaning back to avoid the swipe of Adalant’s bat, nail head plucking at the fabric of her robes. She took a step back and straightened, amused at Adalant’s ruffledness.

“House arrest. I will get in trouble.” She said edgedly, sharp as she turned away and made for the forest ahead of them.

Azben huffed a breath, catching up to Adalant’s side. “Yea, but leave it to me! I have a plan~!” She smiled and winked, bumping their shoulders affectionately. Adalant shied away, hissing angirly, swinging her bat to rest on her shoulder, trudging forward, not making an effort to actually lead her friend back. While Adalant and Azben were on equal footing for almost anything, Azben had her beat in quick wits, her need to make jokes and ruffles feathers and rub them the wrong way, the desperate need to make chaos everywhere, absolutely being the clown was Azben’s job and talent. Adalant sighed and let go of her annoyance at being tricked once more, especially tricked into getting Azben off the estate.

She glanced at her partner, watching her eyes crincial with laughter in the corner, green eyes dark with mirth, looking ahead. Her lips were constantly pulled into a smile, large and bright, yet teasing, maybe a half-smirk if you wanted to look at it that way.

“What are we hunting?” She asked, becoming eager for the fight ahead of them, suddenly excited by the thrill that fluttered fleetingly in her chest.

“The Baboon King.” Azben said idly, like she didn't just suggest that they take on a dragon level disaster that was claimed by Adalant’s sister two days ago. Adalant swallowed and closed her eyes to pray to her sister, asking for forgiveness for her foolish friend. She opened them to a large tree root.

“Okay.” She said quietly, straddling the large tree root to slip onto the other side, rolling her eyes as Azben made a show of flipping into the air and landed into a crouch, back arching as she quickly straightened with the grace of a feline. Azben glanced her way and Adalant could feel the burn of her stare and faintly, Adalant could see Azben raise a brow.

“Not curious--”

“No, not really. You probably promised her a lap dance for later.”

There was a deep breath and Adalant closed her eyes once again as Azben gasped dramatically, an obvious tilt in her voice as she whined, as if she had been wronged.

“How dare you! As if I would stoop that low for- for a beast hunt! You should be ashamed of yourself!” Azben cried and pouted, bottom lip rolling out cutely, all red and wet. Her eyelashes glittered with tears and the way her green eyes sparkled with light and her brows furrowed with gentle lines, Azben gave the image of a kicked puppy, sniffling quietly and blinking rapidly, as if willing the tears away.

Adalant snorted.

Azben crossed her arms tightly across her chest, huching her shoulders. She glared at her yet still completely looked kick. Honestly, Adalant’s chest swelled to offer her a pat on the shoulder and a few words but Adalant also knew it was a way for Azben to get to her, so Adalant could only rub faintly at her chest to dull the ache with a frown.

“You’re my dearest friend, sister!” She huffed, “Yet you accuse me of improper behaviour and breaking regulations!”

“Which you owned up to and even said you’d help me avoid punishment.” Adalant pointed out and maybe, she should have questioned the glint in Azben’s eyes that broke her ‘kicked puppy image’ but Adalant was too focused on balancing on the log across a ravine they had found after a few minutes of walking. She crossed without much thought, Azben’s whole licked-puppy image fading to her nonchalant look, walking across the log without a care, long and loose braid mused in the wind as a draft blew up. She visibly shivered and pressed her robes against her thighs, frowning.

“These things are so long yet I still feel a breeze, what the hell.” She grumbled, dissatisfied with her family’s winter clothing.

They continued on, walking through the underbrush and over roots, Azben animatedly chattering away, poking fun at Adalant and taking an interest in the small fungi and large blooms of winter plants, blue and white petals, purple mushrooms and black vein like roots that wiggled at their boots as they passed. It was as the sun rose to the middle of the cloudy sky that Azben finally hushed, quieting to a seriousness that befitted the beast up ahead, target of their illegal beast hunt.

It was also then that Adalant started to smell the heavy musk of sweat and freshly turned soil, sniffing experimentally at the air for a real scent. Her nose wrinkled as iron flooded her nostrils, salt and green odor with the stale scent of disturbed still water. She felt the air next to her shift, Azben’s nail skittering down her sleeve and making a circle at her elbow. Straight ahead? She glanced back and nodded, pulling her bat from her shoulder and readying herself. She slowed her steps and made her stride longer, shifting forward and squinting ahead. Azben shifted through large leaves, her frame disappearing from sight, her tail a slithering snake as it trailed along.

Adalant waded through thick undergrowth and vines, swinging under a wide and heavy vine that hung low but too high for her to easily cross over. Adalant listened and found the forest devoid of sound, an immediate sign to a disturbance but faintly, she could hear a few birds tweeting away.

The blood from before was way heavy in the air as it clung to her body, probably masking her scent and even Azben’s strange brand of ‘smelling me is like smelling a very fragrant flower in a summer heat’ scent. Maybe it was a deer of sorts? A large animal from the irony yet musky warmed fur smell of a long haired creature.

Sunlight shone heavy upon the clearing she peeked into, blinking blindingly at the sudden touch of brightness. The clearing was small but stretching, medium rocks set into arches that towered over her, and strange statues of sorts, grey and black in colour. White flowers grew, pretty and dainty. Yet, her eyes only fell onto the massive beast sitting, its back to her.

She dared to not breath the curses that waterfalled into her throat, her breath caught at the sheer height of the King. Muscles was the first thing to come to mind, then berry red because its back was probably a brick wall with iron plating, bulging and bright red with white stretch marks. Its arms were thick, a white tail languidly flicking in the grass, white and grey fur a mane with black streaks. Knees poked out from its flanks, knee caps with a crusted look to them. Her eyes widened in bewilderment when hands with talons for fingers threw a bone back, Adalant’s mind now registering the tinged red skull that seemingly looked up at her from her feet. She swallowed her gasp and ducked quickly, feeling the bone sail way past her head, her hair picked up in the wake of the force of its power.

Its hand was wide, large, easily able to crush her head within its palm alone, talons looking like jagged rocks, black with a violet light from the sun above. Its muscles flexed and she was amazed at the sheer fear that gripped her heart tight, lungs painfully cut off from the air she desperately needed. Adalant didn't dare to straighten herself, listening to the King grunt and the cracking of bones as they splintered and the slurping sound that made her stomach flip.

Azben wanted to fight this thing. The thing that could easily crush their skulls, dismember them and eat them. Her heart already sung with fear from its back alone. Imagining its face wasn't the brightest of ideas and she swallowed painfully through the tightness of her throat. Yet, she found herself easing forward. Remembering all the strategies her and Azben had planned for beast’s of this magnitude. Her bat was held tight in her right hand, chest taut as she approached.

She was hiding behind one of the many rock arches when Azben finally appeared again.

And appear she did. Quite literally.

She appeared above the beast, arms crossed and her own talons prepared for an attack, a faint glow of green around them. She was silent as she fell, the sun blinding. Adalant watched the beast look, because he wasn't stupid, quite the intelligent beast, his hand blocking the sun but she was still a dark shadow to him, light flowing past her form and Adalant’s feared dulled to a shallow burn in her stomach.

The thrill of the fight came forward as Azben came down, talons raking through its mane and tearing through its shoulder and half its face, its roar of pain deafening as her body leapt forward into the beginning fray, her bat pulled back and cutting through the air.

She could only grin maniacally as Azben’s snarl of pleasure fitted between them, dark and sadistic in their first attack.

________________________________________________________________

The sun was falling when Marcie bounded out from the tree tops, her growl of anger overshadowing their laughter and they both squaked in indignation, crying out as their arms were twisted behind them and Azben whined as electricity crackled to life in her ankles.

“Adalant Kuygetsa of Loystin and Azben Katrina of the North, you will be sentenced to three months of copying the family rules and attending the stables! Azben, you broke house arre…”

Adalant glared once more at Azben, her cheeky grin too big for a fool in trouble.

Under her sister’s list of broken regulations, Adalant hissed her accusation, “You said you’d help me avoid punishment! I trusted you,” She whispered and could only falter in her anger and betrayal when the dragon woman winked and purred,

“A horrible idea darling, really.”

And how Adalant screamed when she was refused the right to bloody her friends beautiful face.

[mintyvan]

38

title read my mind

prompt a van fic based on this quote, for @callitwhatyouwill: 

"I don’t mess around or play games. I don’t believe in them. I just want honesty. I’d rather wake up one morning and say, “You know what? I had a really terrible dream that you were fucking someone else. Can you love me extra today?” instead of getting in a fight about some stupid shit and then at the end of the day being like, “Okay, can I tell you why I’ve been acting like this?” I’d rather say “Heads up” than “I’m sorry” later. Your relationship is supposed to be the safe place."

— John Mayer on the secret to having a good relationship

note a little smut but fluff too! very nostalgic feel. and it’s in third person! and hella long. word count: 10,614. i’m going for that again. let me know what you think! enjoy!

___________

Van has always been good at sex. Ever since Nancy from the record store (no last name, just "my parents won't be home this weekend") took him to her apartment to show him a thing or two.

He's always been a quick study and practice makes perfect.

When most kids were getting first kisses and hoping to cop a feel, Van was already way ahead of the class.

"You were made for this, Van," he was told once. Years later he still doesn't know what to do with that.

He only tried for a relationship once and, ironically, no sex was had. Good, virginal, Y/N, who would kiss and kiss and, sometimes, she allowed his fingers, giving in to the tension that was a constant blanket around them. But with her there was always more than sex. There was music and books and genuine discussion. His mind craved her as much as, perhaps more than, his body did.

His first love… his only love.

Although that's not saying much at this point in his life. Van has always been at his most self-destructive while attempting to maintain an active social life. He no longer needs that. Van has always enjoyed his solitude, just himself and the words he reads or writes down, the beginnings of another album. He sees the band outside of work occasionally, sometimes their friends will join them, but generally his life is quiet. Simple.

And while Van is good at sex, he's found he doesn't need to seek it out the way he used to. He's no longer searching for intimacy, affection, to feel something as he once was. He's no longer looking for a distraction. Occasionally someone will spend the night, but they're generally friends who also want to fuck.

Van never thought Y/N would be one of them.

He remembers the moment, back when he was a stupid eighteen-year-old, just kicked out of high school, that he knew he'd messed things up with Y/N. That moment when she'd wanted to comfort him, not knowing why he was hurting; when he knew he was so wrong for her, that he would ruin her… When the only thing he could think of was making her feel good by sharing the one thing he was good at.

He feels like that eighteen-year-old now.

Van has seen her at a holiday or two. They discussed her work, his band, but were generally there for family gatherings. He did his best to tell her that it was okay without saying it, that he wouldn't hold her leaving, in love with another man, against her. She seemed to get the idea, and they were something approaching friends again. When her travels brought her through London, they would meet up for lunch or dinner, Larry or another of his friends joining them occasionally.

He wanted her in his life however he could have her. That's not to say he's still hoping for a romantic relationship; that ship has sailed. He'd jumped the gun one too many times and then ran instead of sticking around to witness the aftermath.

As melodramatic as it sounds, the last time they kissed it seemed to him that he would always be the other guy in her eyes – the one to flirt with, the one to kiss, the one she ran to when the boyfriend wasn't who she wanted him to be.

So he opens his door wide for her when she appears, looking for a friend. He gets them takeout, puts on a bad movie. He listens as she tells him how lonely she is, how hard it is to keep relationships.

She won't say it, won't ask. She may not even know it, but he does. He knows exactly what she needs.

She needs someone who will be there when she wants it. Someone to scratch an itch.

Someone to give her intimacy, affection, to help her feel something. She doesn't need strings right now, but Y/N is not a woman who has one night stands, who will throw herself into sex with a stranger. She needs a friend she can trust.

And okay, he can do that. He's single, stable, and while he's probably always going to be a little in love with her, he knows he can live with that. For once, Van is absolutely, without any doubt, positive he can give her what she needs.

(He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it in the past few years; that he hadn't hoped. Chemistry like theirs doesn't happen every day)

So he catches her off-guard, kisses her as he's done countless times before. But this time they aren't teenagers. She isn't the Virginal Y/N of before. He isn't tainting something pure when he touches her breast. He isn't touching some forbidden treasure when he touches her and makes her come for the first time in almost ten years.

This time she lets him kiss her everywhere and she tastes better than he could have ever imagined. He goes down on her right there on his couch, her taste seared forever in his mind.

Van shows her everything he's learnt throughout the years. And he almost manages to do it without thinking about love or loss.

Almost. That first moment when he presses inside her, when they're pressed together, skin to skin, their lips touching in the lightest of kisses, he thinks that this could be it. That he could never touch another again and it would be just fine with him.

He allows it for a moment before shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind, concentrates on the act instead: finds the rhythm that makes her squeeze her eyes shut, her nails digging into his skin, figuring out the spots that make her squirm, pressing his fingers into the areas that make her scream.

He feels like he's auditioning. This is what I can give you. This is how I can make you feel. (He wants her to want more. He wants to be the best she's ever had.)

The hope was that she would be so tired out, she would fall asleep before the panic sets in. Wishful thinking.

He lies calmly as she jumps up, frantic.

"Y/N," he says; cool, calm, casual.

She looks back at him, standing on shaky legs, holding her shirt in front of her like a shield.

He doesn't get up, doesn't change positions, remains lying in his bed, lazily watching her. "If you want to go back to your hotel, I won't stop you. But don't think you have to. We just had some amazing sex, I'd like to have more. If you want that too, come back to bed."

He's not entirely sure it will work. Y/N has always fought hard against this thing between them.

She must see something in his expression that relaxes her, because without a word she drops her shirt and climbs back into bed. When she lays back down she turns towards him, hesitant. "…do we… cuddle?"

He chuckles. "I'm not opposed to it. You're naked, I'm naked, what's not to like?"

She giggles, pressing herself close to him and falling asleep.

Later in the night they wake up for lazy, slow sex, and he concentrates less, goes with the flow, and it's still amazing. In the morning he makes her breakfast before propping her up on his counter and sinking inside of her for what may be the last time.

"I'll see you when you're back in town," he says as she leaves, just like always.

She smiles, kisses his cheek. "See you then."

She doesn't tell anyone.

For most people that wouldn't be too much of a surprise, but Y/N has tried not to keep anything from her family since some big fight they all had. Hell, Y/N had a one night stand while on vacation from uni and her mother was the first person she called in a panic after it happened.

But things are always different with Van. He has always been her secret to keep. It seems that hasn't changed.

Not that her mother doesn't know that they visit with each other sometimes. According to their family and friends, Y/N and Van McCann have crossed that line from awkward exes to friends. Her mother has finally let go of any flame of suspicion she had and Y/N doesn't want to ignite it again.

The next time Y/N sees him, she's scared: scared that everything will change, that things will suddenly be awkward. She's scared that he'll want something she can't give (what a change that would be), that he'll only want sex from her… that he won't want it again. (Because she does want to – that she knows. The things he did to her, the way he made her feel… She never thought it could be like that.)

Her job has her in London a few times a year. Trying to avoid him on his turf would be easy but she doesn't want to. With or without sex, beginning their friendship again has been a very bright part of her life.

It turns out she doesn't have to worry.

The next time she's in London she can't see Van until late. When she calls, he asks her to meet him at the recording studio and she arrives at the end of an open house. Having missed her last time she was in town, the band are excited to see her, and she quickly finds herself at a pub, her suitcase stashed under a table.

It's easy with them, always has been. They tell her stories about the pain-in-the-ass PR they have to deal with, making jabs at Van throughout. She tells them stories about the people she meets: some of them nice, but mostly embarrassing stories. Van stretches his arm behind her chair, casual, easy, and she tries to stop herself from over-analyzing his actions.

Once the awkwardness of their friendship had lifted he'd always been comfortable around her.

She wonders if the sex will only add another level of comfort.

They end up out later than she initially planned and she curses herself for not booking her hotel in advance for once.

"Just come back to my place; we can walk, save some money."

Y/N stops. She wonders if maybe she's missed something, if she should have analyzed his actions more. She's petrified of hurting him again.

Van smirks. "Don't overthink it, love."

And it can't possibly be that simple. Not with them, not with anyone.

But he's standing there with that crooked smile on his face, one that promises mischief and pleasure if only she would follow him. When they were seventeen she was too afraid to allow him to make good on his promises. Months ago he delivered; she decides that there's no way she'll miss out on it again.

She rides him hard that night, admiring the way his muscles strain, the face he makes as he comes. Y/N runs her hands along his lean chest, digging her fingers into his skin.

When they were young, before it all went downhill, he never pushed her, only ever gave when she allowed it. She'd touched him once but felt too strange, nervous that someone would walk in. He'd only sighed that day, pulling her hand away from him, kissing her softly.

It would be a lie to say that she never regrets it. Next time, she tells herself; next time she'll enjoy him fully and slowly.

They don't fall asleep as quickly this time, both still wired from their day. They talk about the articles they've been reading, albums they've bought. She shares some of her best friend's recommendations and promises to bring her Tame Impala records the next time they see each other.

She rolls over when it's time to sleep and smiles as he pulls her up against his chest. She's missed sleeping with someone, skin-to-skin, snuggled up against warm, strong arms. Don't get used to it. You don't know what this is. You can't keep it.

She sleeps in the next day and it's closer to the afternoon when she wakes up. Coffee is waiting for her, pancakes waiting in the microwave. Van is sitting at his laptop, a serious expression on his face as he types.

He gives her distracted answers when she asks about the new album, and she enjoys watching him completely captivated by his art as she eats.

"Van, I have to get going," she tells him an hour later. She laughs at his surprised expression when he finally looks up from his laptop for the first time that day.

"Sorry, I get…" He scratches his head and she loves seeing him flustered for the first time since high school. Even then it wasn't a regular occurrence.

She nods. "I understand. I can get the same way."

In fact, it's a breath of fresh air, seeing someone else become so distracted with their work.

She goes to him this time, knowing how much she would hate being separated from her laptop when she's on a roll.

"I'll see you when you're back in town." His customary goodbye - and she likes it, this lack of pressure.

Y/N leans down and gives him a soft kiss on the mouth which he returns. "See you then."

When Y/N returns to work it's with a light heart. She feels good. There is no boyfriend to worry about neglecting, to make her feel like her priorities are wrong. She and Van will occasionally text but generally work is work. If Y/N's attention isn't there it's with her mother.

Maybe, one day, she'll be ready for that kind of commitment again, but right now it's just a nuisance.

And she's content with it. They see each other again, and they go out to eat. He pays like he always has and the food is good. The sex is good. Not paying for a hotel is good. Being with him is always good.

Everything is good.

Until she's asked on a date. And she doesn't actually want to go. She would have said no either way.

But it gets her thinking.

***

Lucy Anderson comes to town and he's finally forced to consider some things he'd chosen to ignore.

While Van lived a generally solitary life, he still had friends who showed up occasionally. He'd actually met Lucy at a concert – a flight attendant with a wandering heart much like his own. She would come through occasionally, sometimes calling him, sometimes not. When she did she always stayed the night.

He knows Y/N – knows her better than anyone, knows her better than he did when he said it the first time if that's possible. He knows that there is a possibility she may be turning down others for his sake.

A part of him has no desire to sleep with anyone else either. He's happy, satisfied, and sees no reason for it. But this is meant to be about making life easier for Y/N, and he doesn't want to hold her back.

He turns Lucy down and wonders if he'll hear from her again. He won't be heartbroken if he doesn't, but he would be disappointed. Sex or no, she's an avid traveler; conversation with her is always stimulating.

The next time Y/N comes around it's for three days, longer than usual. She arrives at his apartment on his day off, bags in tow. "I didn't want to assume, but…"

He grins. "It's safe to assume."

She's still hesitant as she puts her stuff down. Fidgeting with the sleeves of her coat, she won't meet his eyes. He wonders who asked her out. He knows she didn't go and he fights between smug satisfaction and guilt.

"Van…" she begins, and he remains quiet, allowing her to say her piece. "I don't want a boyfriend right now."

He waits, sure there must be more, but she remains quiet, biting her lip. He contemplates biting it for her and putting off the conversation a little longer.

Instead he sighs, lets her off the hook. "I think that's smart. You're pretty busy; boyfriend would probably get in the way right now."

She's frustrated with his response but he can't give her the answers on this one. Whether she knows it or not, this is her show.

"So we're… what? Friends with benefits? I've done that before, Van; it didn't work out."

That's slightly surprising to hear. He'd wager whoever it was became a boyfriend not too long after. His money's on the Curly Haired Dick from Oxford and he goes with it. "So, in recent years, with the job you have right now, with someone in one specific state, who you can see when you want, you've tried before?"

She's back to fidgeting with the sleeves of her coat again, the ends fraying beneath her fingers. "…Well, no. It was at Oxford."

Curly Haired Dick it is. "Where you were living on the same campus, probably saw each other all the time, maybe even were dating each other's friends."

She blushes and he knows he got it in one.

"Y/N, I'm not saying this is perfect. I am saying the distance helps when it comes to a lot of the potential issues. You want to go on a date? Go on a date. You want to sleep with someone else? Do what you have to do." It hurts to say, but it still needs to be said.

It's clear that it distresses her too. Y/N's always had a jealous streak. "But… I don't always warn you when I come. What if you're… busy?"

He rolls his eyes. "You largely overestimate my social life. I got a lot of that out of my system a long time ago."

She's breaking and he smiles to himself as she walks away from her bag and finally takes her jacket off. "So… what? I'll be sleeping around while you wait patiently for me to visit?"

He snorts at the notion that she would sleep around. She could; she's beautiful, she has a job that would support such a lifestyle. But Y/N is a woman who likes having a boyfriend, a boyfriend that would simply be an annoyance for her at the moment. He's offering her the illusion. Happily. Willingly.

"Don't worry about what I'm doing. You do what you want. But I can promise you that whenever you come to town, as long as you want to, you can have my bed. Preferably with me in it."

They stand quietly, watching each other. In an instant a decision is made and she takes a step forward, kissing him hard on the mouth.

*

Y/N spends her three days with him and is the happiest she's been in years.

Between her own meetings she spends time at Van’s studio making phone calls, organizing albums, buying albums, and editing. Y/N and Van don't act any differently around his friends; Y/N wants to keep this thing between them. It's better that way. Uncomplicated.

She becomes comfortable though. After high school, before the sex began, she'd always been slightly hesitant around him, fearful of the chemistry between them. This physical connection, this raw sexual attraction that always seemed to vibrate throughout her body when she's with him, begging for the two of them to act. Then, after the sex began, before they discussed it, she was worried about giving him the wrong idea.

It's impossible not to touch him now.

She pauses a movie and climbs onto his lap. When they hit play again they're naked and under a throw he keeps on the couch.

She strokes his shoulder as she walks by him, grabs his hand. She comes home from work and kisses him sweetly on the lips before walking away to order takeout. Y/N plays with the boundaries of intimacy and romance, sure there must be rules. In three days, she finds none.

Returning to work is easy. It consumes every aspect of her life for months on end leaving no room for anything else. She misses Thanksgiving and Christmas at home and there still seems to be no end in sight to her work. It feels like forever before she finds herself in London again.

"Take me out," she tells him. "Pick somewhere nice, make a reservation. I want to dress up and go out."

She's daring in her exhaustion and need to be wined and dined.

"Things were a lot easier when the only thing you wanted was Philly cheese steak," he says, fixing the collar of his dress shirt, fitting his blazer to his chest. And, oh, he looks good. So, so good. She almost regrets her initial plans. Almost.

Smoothing down her dress, a little black number that hugs her curves in just the right places, she enjoys the freedom of dressing up for something other than work. She slides on her shoes before sauntering up to him and grabbing on to his blazer. "But it is nice sometimes – to dress up, go out, show off…"

He rolls his eyes.

"There's also something to be said about—" Y/N presses even closer, her lips next to his ear. "—anticipation…"

He narrows his eyes, smiles.

They go out for Mediterranean. It's a nice restaurant, her dress isn't out of place but she spies a few people in casualwear as well. It's perfect.

It's fun in a way she's never enjoyed with Van: drinks, appetizer, dinner, dessert, playful banter over the table, inappropriate touching with hands and feet underneath.

By the time the check comes she's imagining dragging him to a bathroom.

By the time they get to the car she can barely keep her hands off of him. She mouths at his ginger stubble, bites at his ear before forcing herself back in her seat while he starts the car. His hand strokes her thigh and he presses down on the gas when he discovers her lack of panties.

They barely make it into the apartment, throwing their jackets to the ground, high off the urgency and lust between them. He lifts her up and she wraps her legs tightly around his hips, the wall cool against her skin. She grabs at his shoulders, his arms, hastily pulling at the buttons on his shirt, kissing and licking at the skin she can reach. His hands move away from her for a moment and she doesn't register what he's doing until suddenly he's so close and he's pushing deep, deep, deep. As he moves inside her, Y/N wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders, her hand gripping his hair.

It's intense. It's always intense with Van. Exciting and maybe a little frightening but always bringing her back for more. When her feet are back on the ground and they separate, he holds her face in his hands and kisses her deeply. Later, they lie in bed and listen to their albums, occasionally quoting a fragment or discussing the artist.

It's probably the best date she's ever had.

(The next time she sees him he takes her to a punk concert and it's like the old days, except for all the ways that it's not. She dances against him, hot, sweaty, high off the music and his body against hers. They don't make it to the apartment. He takes her in his car, right there in the parking lot.)

***

He hears from her more often now: emails, texts and the occasional phone call. They talk about everything – books and music, her work, Catfish, family, his lyrics. He knows more about her life now than he ever has and it's nice. Very nice.

While still subtle around friends and family (no sex during holidays) when they're alone he may as well be her boyfriend. He's not surprised. It was the point. Y/N needs more than just sex; it's why she hadn't found someone else, why this has worked for so long.

They're practically in a relationship.

He hasn't touched another since they began.

He gave her a key not too long ago, along with a logical reason so she wouldn't overthink the gesture. "This way you can drop off your stuff if I'm at work, since you never seem to let me pick you up."

Which is true. Y/N still drops by fairly last-minute and never lets him pick her up. He's managed to drop her off a few times but only if he found a reason for the airport or train to be on his way.

She hasn't needed to use the key yet – mostly from lack of presence.

It's been seven months since the last time he saw her, the longest he can remember since they started. And he's okay. He's fine. This was always going to be part of the arrangement. The entire point is that he can handle it.

He can. He can handle it.

He'd just underestimated how hard it would be, to actually have her in his life, in his bed, to be with her, inside of her, and know that one day he'll likely have to let her go, let her go, let her go.

Nowadays, Van is a casual drinker, usually when he's with the guys. He's careful. He's always been a careful drinker except for when emotions were high and Van just wanted to drown everything out. There were no more drugs in his life besides the occasional joint passed around after parties with the band and whoever else has stuck around.

Cigarettes are usually his drug of choice. Sometimes when he's writing he'll go through two packs, forgetting to eat, drink, or sleep until he's done.

That night, he's weak. That night, he's lost in his head and he can't escape it. He doesn't want to leave the apartment and he can't seem to find the words to write. It's happened before, it'll happen again, because sometimes he's overwhelmed and there's just too much.

He grabs the bottle of whiskey left in his cabinet and he drinks and he smokes and tries to numb the feeling like he's that goddamn nineteen-year-old again begging the girl to run away with him.

"Van?"

It's the middle of the night when he wakes up to the sound of her voice. He blinks, rubs his eyes.

"Y/N?"

She takes off her jacket, strips down to her underwear and throws on one of his shirts before climbing in bed with him.

And Van must be dreaming, because what are the odds? For her to just appear, right when he's at his lowest. He doesn't know if this is a blessing or the universe's way of saying "fuck you!" because he can't turn her away. Not now. Not when he needs her this much.

She moves closer, worry etched in her expression before she calls his name again, softer this time.

What are the odds? That the woman he'd searched for so many times when he was young (you aren't eighteen any more), going through inadequate replacement after replacement, would be here now?

He takes her entirely by surprise when he grabs her shoulders and shoves her down, climbing on top of her. She goes to kiss his lips and he gives her his cheek instead, mindful of his breath. (Cigarettes and booze, how can you put this on her?)

He touches her under his shirt, bunching it up above her breasts, drinking her in, drunk off her body, before thrusting hard and fast and deep. Her hands are stroking his shoulders, his hair, and he can't help but whisper, "Y/N, Y/N," because for all the times he's done this, lost himself in the body of another when he needed to forget, this is the first time it's her.

They finish together, something which shocks him because he hadn't been thinking too much of pleasure, hers or his, just necessary release. Van doesn't climb off her right away, instead he holds her close, his face hidden in her neck as he feels himself softening inside of her.

"Are you okay?" she asks, stroking his back under his shirt.

He nods. "I'm sorry… Sometimes I—"

"No, no, I came out of the blue. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing."

He rolls off her, running his hand through his hair. He needs a glass of water, needs to take off his sweaty shirt. He needs sleep.

Van turns his head and Y/N is staring at him with concerned eyes.

He smiles. "I'm glad you came."

That night, after they both strip and find water, he holds her tightly, tighter than he's probably ever let himself before, and hopes she doesn't notice. (He knows she does.)

In the morning she wakes him early, mouth hot and wet around him. He returns the favor, hoping it serves as an adequate apology for falling apart inside her the night before.

They're on their way to the shower when she tells him that she has to leave soon – "this trip wasn't exactly planned" – and he can't believe what a fucking mess he was, wasting the time they had.

He tries to make the apology in the shower extra special. From the sounds she makes he thinks he accomplishes it.

Y/N lets him drive her to the train that day and he's surprised to find that she's heading back to Washington so soon and not some other random state or country. He's parked in front and when he looks towards her she's nervous. He waits.

"So… you know how I have that contact here? Of course you do, it's why I'm usually here. Well, he… moved. To New York, actually, which is funny, because he was always saying how he was going to but he never did but now… well. he… did. So, well, the thing is… I probably won't be around as often any more, Van."

That explained her absence the last few months. He inhales deeply, wishing for a cigarette. "Well, I'll see you when I can."

She nods. And it's awkward. It feels like a break up. As if they hadn't had enough of those. What was he thinking? She hesitates for a moment.

"Are you going to be okay?"

And there it is.

He smiles. "I'm a songwriter, love. A night of booze, sex, and general over-dramatics comes with the territory."

***

Y/N starts to think about fate when the plane sending her back to NY from Paris takes her to London in preparation for the blizzard that's practically upon them. Because what are the odds that her job sent her by plane instead of having her drive or take the train? What are the odds that the plane would take its chances because it's such a short flight? What are the odds that they would land in London? (Where she so desperately wants to be.)

She whips out her phone along with her fellow passengers and calls Van.

"I'm sorry, this is so last minute, but the plane made an emergency landing in London, and I know there's a blizzard outside, and I promise I can find a hotel—"

"Y/N, shut up. I'll be there soon."

Of course he would. The Van she knows now has never disappointed her.

She doesn't have to wait outside for too long, but while she's waiting she considers the last time she was here, not too long ago: when Van had fallen apart, truly and completely, in front of her for the first time in their shared history; when she had taken a completely spontaneous trip to see him, reminiscent of Llandudno, years ago. Timing, fate, that she should appear when he needed her most.

The trip to his apartment takes a little longer than normal but Van is confident. "I've had to drive in worse conditions with a much crappier car."

By the time they arrive the storm is really picking up. Van goes to get dinner ready before any kind of power outage may occur and Y/N checks his bathroom cabinets, thankful to find the sanitary napkins she left there last time her period surprised her.

Next Y/N goes looking for candles in case the lights go out, pulling out some blankets as well, a plan forming in her mind. "Maybe after you're done we can turn off all the lights, light up some candles, open the blinds and watch the snow."

He smirks at her, stirring the sauce in front of him. She's excited; Van is a great cook. His tomato sauce is the best she's ever had next to her mum’s.

"Did your dad teach you how to cook?" she asks, walking to the counter to make some coffee. It's something she's wondered since the first time he cooked for her.

He pauses for a moment. Van never gives anything of himself lightly anymore. "Yeah, a lot of it came from working at the B&B. There were also a few nights when I actually stayed in and Larry would also show me a thing or two."

Y/N tries to imagine it and fails. Back then it seemed like Van didn't show an interest in much of anything. She can't imagine him standing and letting Larry teach him how to cook.

"There sounds like there's more to that story…" she prompts.

He laughs, scooping out some of the sauce and tasting it, letting her do the same. She never has much of an opinion, her knowledge of the kitchen still limited, but he always seems to know what it needs.

"There was this lady next door to us, Mrs. Rossi. When I was about seven or eight she would watch me sometimes when Mary was doing whatever Mary would do. She was probably the closest I had to the stereotypical Italian grandma."

"We moved away when I was nine. I'm not entirely sure whatever happened to her… But the cooking came in handy." He starts moving around, straining the penne, grabbing plates. She pours herself a cup of coffee. "The snow seems to be really picking up out there, it's getting dark… I'm all for your plan if we can be naked."

She blushes, still uncomfortable discussing this no matter how comfortable he's made it clear he is. "How about we keep the underwear tonight?"

He nods, understanding. He tried to convince her once that sex during her period wasn't a problem for him but she assured him that she was grossed out enough for the both of them.

They light the candles and set up the apartment before stripping down to their underwear and cuddling under his blankets with their dishes.

"So, why did you say the cooking came in handy? Do you mean at the bed and breakfast?"

He groans. "What's with all the questions tonight?"

"We're going to be snowed in! Who knows how long for… We've known each other for so long at this point and there's still so much we don't know about each other."

He watches her, narrowing his eyes and taking a bite. "Alright. Mary wasn't exactly chef of the year. But using the money we had for groceries and cooking turned out to be cheaper than going out every night."

They eat slowly, her food cold by the time she's finished while they talk. They trade stories about their mothers' attempts at cooking; most of Mary's most famous cooking adventures are from recent years. Van tells one or two from before, casually dropping little anecdotes.

Y/N has plenty of questions after that, and Van answers each one of her questions with a kind of lazy, uninterested tone.

They're facing the window, watching the storm pass by. She's leaning against his chest while he sits against the couch. She sips at her coffee, faintly wishing they'd been able to stop for wine. Granted, Van doesn't seem to need alcohol to loosen his lips at the moment (and after the last time, his breath stinking of whiskey, she's not sure if she wants that right now.)

Her chest feels heavy.

"Alright, the obvious question… how old were you when you lost your virginity?" she asks, and for a brief, horrifying moment she thinks of the casual way he talks of his emotional abuse and wonders if maybe this is a question she shouldn't have asked.

When he laughs in response she relaxes. "Now we're talking. I was fourteen."

"Oh. Older than I thought actually."

"Huh. Wasn't my first sexual experience, but the actual intercourse… fourteen. You?"

"Nineteen," she responds, dreading the questions that are coming. Van already knew that she and the boyfriend before him had given it a second try, but she'd never actually gone into the gritty details. She still hates talking about it.

He nods, "Right. Since we're all so curious tonight, I assumed it was either Jacob or that Curly Haired guy. But I know Jacob was married around the time of Larry’s wedding…"

"Ugh. He was. He was married when we had sex. It was so bad. I didn't even know it was happening until he was pulling out the condom and then it just kind of happened… I was scared, it hurt, I was so horrible to everyone after that…"

He strokes her belly, soothing her cramps, and she's surprised at how comfortable this conversation, this situation is. She tells him the rest of the story: running off to America, how angry she was with her mother for guilt-tripping her, the guilt she tried not to allow herself to feel at the image of Jacob’s wife trying to make her husband happy – then what came later, when the guilt consumed her and she tried again with Jacob because it felt like she had to after all the strife she had caused.

"Wow. Maybe you should have run away with me."

She's shocked for a moment because they'd actually discussed this before, years ago when he told her what a mistake that would have been. How broke he was, what a bad place they both had been in, what a disaster it would have been. And he's saying that would have been better? Wait a minute.

"Hey!" She turns around to smack him when she sees that he's clearly trying to hold in laughter.

For a little while they forget about questions, wrestling and tickling, rolling around the floor. This quickly becomes a make-out session that could rival the ones when they were teenagers

When they pull away from each other to finally breathe he's lying with his back on the floor and she rests her cheek against his chest. She huffs, smiling, "How are you so good at that?"

"Good at what?" he responds sleepily.

It's getting late. The blizzard is still raging and she considers suggesting they move to his bedroom. But it's nice here in their little cocoon, and Van is always so warm…

"The kissing. You've always been such a good kisser. And the sex…"

"Always been good at that too. Practice makes perfect," he replies nonchalantly, and if she wasn't so tired she'd probably hit him again.

"We met when you were seventeen, how much practice could you possibly have—"

"Nope." He's lazily stroking her back as he continues to talk softly. "Definitely not having that conversation."

And it's strange, the way the mind works. She knows the conversation that he thinks will follow. It's one about sexual history and how many partners he's had, but Y/N doesn't really care about that all that much. No, instead her mind goes somewhere else.

"Van?"

And he grunts in response, his eyes closed, but she knows he's listening.

"In the bedroom… at Larry’s party…"

She feels him tense before he's opening his eyes and looking at her. He licks his lips and for a strange moment she wants to kiss him and forget that she'd even brought it up. Somehow, when she thinks about the party years later, that night seems so much more profound than it had at the time.

She cuts him off before he can start. "I know we already spoke about it. Bad timing, you were emotional, and—"

"I wanted to make you feel good. It seemed like all I was doing was hurting you, disappointing you. I didn't want to, but I didn't know how to stop. I mean it when I say sex is always something I've been good at. Until I started to write songs, it seemed like the only thing I was good at. It was the only thing I could think of. The only thing I could offer you."

He looks ready to apologize again but she's tired of apologies from their broken relationship of ten years ago. This time she does kiss him and he returns it as passionately as always.

"I thought it was going to be you. Prom night, or at some point before I left for America. I'd even spoken to my mum about it." She doesn't know what makes her blurt it out, but it seems important to say.

He doesn't seem all that surprised. Just sleepily shrugs. "Figures. Probably better we didn't though. I was leaving no matter what… wouldn't have been fair to you."

She nods and rests her head on his chest, smiling. "You probably would have ruined me for other men."

She's met with silence. Y/N tries not to think too much about what she just said, or may have admitted.

They fall asleep not too long after. The electricity never actually goes out even though the snow continues well into the next day. They sleep, eat, listen to music, and she's delighted to find that Van volunteers more information about his past over this visit than he ever has before. How had they gone all these years without knowing so many things about each other?

The next day, Van offers to drive her to Cheshire so she doesn't have to worry about public transportation after the storm. The roads are generally clear and it's just a two hour drive (just two hours, that's hardly anything) so she agrees.

On the ride there, he tells her about his new album. "Just a few edits and it should be done."

She laments the fact that she won't have time to help with the edits but he promises to email her a copy she can read if she really wanted it before its recording.

It's simple, easy. Just like it's been for years.

When she gets home, she considers the whole trip, the trip that wasn't even supposed to happen. And for the first time, she really thinks about Van and the arrangement they have.

"I wanted to make you feel good," he'd said. Sex was "the only thing I could offer you."

Did he still feel that way? For the past three years he'd given, unselfishly. Whenever she wanted she could drop into his life and he would be whoever she wanted him to be: the friend, the boyfriend, the lover.

Y/N looks around her empty studio apartment. She misses him already.

She takes a deep breath but the heaviness in her chest doesn't go away.

**

They remain in touch. After the third time a conversation becomes phone sex, it's clear that Van isn't the only one having trouble letting go. (They both end up in Cheshire during Christmas and he sneaks into her room at night, breaking their holiday rule.)

It isn't only him that's seeing it either. After almost four years of this arrangement, the people in Van's life are finally catching on.

Bernie drops by one weekend. He tries to be casual but Bernie isn't ever the kind to open up, so when he starts telling Van about his ex-girlfriend before Mary, it's clear that Bernie has an inkling of what's going on.

And Van gets it. He understands how it must look. He even appreciates the concern. But as similar as they may be, Van is not his father. Hell, if Van had been Bernie, he probably would have left with the ex-girlfriend. Either way, Van isn't waiting. If he had any real desire to be with anyone else, he would be. And when Y/N finally moves on (because she will, she always does), he'll continue to live his life.

When she calls him and invites him out in London with her for the first time he doesn't overthink or hope.

"There's a party I need to go to, a work thing really, and I was thinking maybe you'd like to come? You don't have to, I know parties aren't really your thing, but I need a date and I haven't seen you in a while so I thought it might be nice."

She's breaking their long-established holding pattern. He can hear the nervousness in her voice. He's nervous too.

So he gets the girl in the apartment downstairs to trim his hair, grabs some of his work, packs his one suit, tells the guys that he'll be back in a few days, and ignores the looks the bandmates give him.

Van has never actually been to Y/N's apartment — never been to visit her anywhere other than the childhood home in Cheshire or his apartment in London. He's meant to be separate from this life; that's the point.

He barely has enough time to walk through the door before she's jumping him, lips on his, hands grabbing at the fly of his pants, pulling it down while dragging him to bed. It's quick and it's good because it's always good and, shit, it doesn't make it any easier when she's fucking addicting.

"Hi," she says, rolling over.

"You always give the best greetings," he replies, adjusting his pants and sitting up. He looks around the apartment for the first time. It's a studio, a nice one — nicer than any he's ever lived in. It's also fairly barren. "You just move in?"

She blushes. "Actually, this is my fourth apartment since I moved here. I started off bigger but it seemed silly since I barely lived in them, so they just kept getting smaller. Made more sense to keep most of my stuff at Mum's a few miles away."

He nods. Whenever he thought about Y/N's apartment he'd come up blank. Their roles are reversed now; Van is the stable one living in one place, Y/N the nomad traveling the world. A furnished apartment just doesn't suit her lifestyle.

It's already fairly late so they get takeout and find a movie on TV, eating, watching and laughing on Y/N's bed. She touches him often, pets his hair, scratches at his stubble, kisses any area she touches. He imagines this happening more often, happening every night.

It's strange, sleeping in a different bed, different from his apartment or the one he sleeps in at Cheshire. "Been a while since I've slept in a bed that wasn't mine," he says when they lay down to sleep.

There's an awkward silence. "So you bring all the other ladies home with you? I hope you wash your sheets before you let me in them."

It's somehow a conversation they've avoided since this whole arrangement started. He knows from the few holidays they've gone to at the same time that Y/N has dated off and on — "nothing serious," she'd always say, avoiding his eyes every time.

"Nah, I save the good sheets for you."

"Ugh, you only have like one pair."

He kisses her head. "I know."

Y/N wakes him early, takes him for a quick coffee and pastry, and tries to make him play tourist. When he finds a bench for the third time to read, she finally gives up. She takes him to a museum instead where they get lost for hours until they need to rush home.

They need to navigate around each other as they get ready but they're experts at it at this point. Usually, he can guess at what she's thinking, but the smiles she shoots him as they get ready leave him unsure. He ignores any uneasiness and enjoys the attention instead, grabbing gel for the first time in a while; he'd generally given up on his hair after high school.

"I love how well you clean up," she says, taking his tie out of his hand to do it for him.

"Can't have them thinking I'm your kept man." He rubs his jaw, smirking. "Although that would be fun."

"Don't get any ideas, mister. This is a good chance for you to network."

He probably should have taken that comment more seriously. From the moment they arrive at the venue she's introducing him — "This is my friend, Van McCann, he's a songwriter and lead singer for Catfish and the Bottlemen. He and his bandmates are working on their next album."

These moments are usually followed by questions — has he written anything they would have heard, tell them more about Catfish. Van turns on the charm that's necessary when you're a business owner but in the end Y/N sells it best. She apparently even carries Catfish albums in her purse — some people already recognize the name of the band as well as his albums, some people he even recognizes. He makes a note to talk to the band about paying Y/N for promotions.

Y/N touches him frequently, wraps her hand around his arm. It's not his scene but he enjoys the looks he gets, enjoys feeling like she's showing him off, someone she could be proud to be seen with.

It takes about two hours for the atmosphere to become suffocating. Y/N is standing on the other side of the room, chatting with a group of high-profiles and reporters. He stands from their table, meeting her eyes and gesturing towards the back door with an unlit cigarette in his hand. She smiles back in understanding, her knowing eyes, bright as ever, sparkling back at him.

She's turned back to the group while he's still standing there like an idiot. Ten years since he met her and she's still the most stunning creature he's ever laid eyes on. He watches as she grips the attention of the little group. He watches everyone who passes her by, looks at her, and is distracted by her beauty and intelligence. He remembers telling Bernie years before he had no idea why Y/N had chosen him. He's come a long way since then — made a real life for himself, no longer the hooligan turned dropout with no future — but sometimes, at moments like these, he still thinks why me?

Outside is a balcony, overlooking a garden that's too dark to really see. Leaning against a railing, he lights up a cigarette, inhaling deeply and slowly relaxing, reaching for his phone.

People wander outside. Some of them beg him for a light, one or two beg a smoke. He behaves himself, showing pity and giving up his cigarettes to these people in this other part of Y/N's world. Some of them ask what he's reading or listening to, or if he's Y/N’s date. It's a strange title but he willingly accepts it. He makes conversation, telling them about the new album he's working on and is due to be released in a few weeks.

Van doesn't know how long he's been standing out there, smoking, conversing, when Y/N comes looking for him. "Time to go!" she says.

"I'm good if you need to stay," he replies, unsure of what the usual routine is, if the party is actually over or if she's leaving early for his sake.

She grins back and for the first time he gets the distinct feeling that he just passed a test.

"Nope. I got plenty of material; anything else is for the gossip rags. Also, I'm starving."

He laughs, not surprised. The food was good but hours ago, and definitely not enough to fill up Y/N.

She's shoveling food in her face when she asks about the new music he’s listening to, and they discuss it while they eat. Y/N used to say that he helped her thought process, and while he wouldn't admit it for a long time, she does the same for him. He'd already planned on dedicating this album to her; with her to bounce ideas off, the writing process was the smoothest it's ever been.

"Did you at least enjoy yourself a little bit?" she asks, biting her lip.

He shrugs. "It wasn't as bad as I was expecting. Although I think we're going to need to start paying you for promoting us. You're better than the websites."

She grins wide before taking a bite of her burger. He thinks again about tests. He thinks about being actively in Y/N's world, about going to events with her, being Y/N’s date.

He likes the sound of it. Sitting outside at a fast food restaurant’s picnic table, dressed in formal wear, Van thinks about where they started — not the beginning (the beginning was over and done with) but the beginning of this thing between them.

For the first time, he considers the idea that maybe this is more than just the start of something that would eventually end.

***

She doesn't see Van again until his album release party a few weeks later. It's a big event meant to make up for the ones they didn't have for the others. She makes a point to take a few days off, desperately wanting to help, to be a part of this — to be a bigger part of his life.

And, oh, she misses him — more and more with each separation that comes. She misses his hands and his smile, his voice.

When she first enters the studio late morning they're setting things up, Van lifting his head and smiling at her. She feels something deep in her chest, heavy, and she pulls him into a different room, kisses him deeply, loving the feel of his mouth and his tongue and, oh, how she missed him.

Benji tries to tell her they don't need help, but Van and Larry are quick to put her to work, arranging things and answering the phone. They could afford to have people come in and do this for them but Van is stubborn and something of his self-sufficiency has rubbed off on the other two.

Mary and Bernie arrive not too long before the party is meant to begin, Bernie glowing with pride as he always seems to these days. He helps with the food, and Mary informs them that one of their old friends offered to cater their next party.

Y/N's gotten used to working crowds and she does her best: sharing information about Catfish, how well they're doing, who to contact if they want to be featured somewhere. She tells people about Van, his success, his talent, going on and on about this wonderful man who brings so much to her life. It doesn't occur to her how transparent she's being until her mother pulls her aside, asking if there's something Y/N should tell her.

Y/N doesn't tell her yet, but she will soon. This is the longest she's ever kept a secret from her mum and although she knows her mother will be hurt she doesn't regret it. This thing she and Van have been doing has been uncomplicated, smooth, comfortable — all of that would have changed if she'd had to argue with her mum the entire time.

The party continues on and Y/N finds that unlike the first events she'd attended she isn't surrounded by strangers. She tries not to laugh at the surprise on her mum's face as Y/N introduces her to people, friends of Bondy and Bob, a few she and Van ran into at concerts and other record stores.

"I didn't know you came here so often," her mum says, when it's just her, Y/N, and Larry after a group has left them.

"Oh, Y/N isn't here as much as we'd like but after — what, five years? — we've all fallen madly in love with her." Larry laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Her mum continues to be visibly surprised as Larry tells tales of Y/N's visits. "Y/N here has a way of getting Van to leave his apartment."

A group surrounds them and Y/N is thrilled to see more people she recognizes. She's thankful to see Van surrounded by people who care about him and who want him to succeed.

At some point Benji comes over saying, "Hey, Y/N, I think he's hitting his limit." And Y/N nods, leaving as Bernie joins the group.

Van is talking to a very enthusiastic older couple, hand tightening on his beer. He smiles gratefully at Y/N when she joins them, wrapping his arm around her shoulder tighter than Larry had, introducing her proudly. And that's where she stays for most of the night, stroking his back and rambling when she needs to.

"I hate when all the attention is on me. I can't disappear for a smoke," he murmurs to her at some point and she wonders how she ever thought he was sociable.

No, she knows how — he fakes it well. He fakes it better than he used to. Or, rather, his temper doesn't flare like it used to. She knows he loves this place, that he knows being sociable comes with the job and he considers it worth it. It makes her think of the party she brought him to, how well he did, even after he left for air.

"I'm here," she says, and if they'd been anywhere else she would have kissed him.

"Just as good as a cigarette," he replies, stroking her arm.

She receives three job offers and one person claiming to have a contact somewhere big, at a large London PR firm. "The studio keeps all your articles and PR on hand and I've read them all. Please consider calling," she hears, and she narrows her eyes at Van as he looks on innocently.

To her surprise, she's already considering it.

It's late when the party finishes; late enough that her mother doesn't have time to question her before she, and Mary and Bernie return to their hotel (although she does raise an eyebrow when Y/N tells her she won't be staying at the hotel with them.) Y/N dreads the conversation that will ensue when they all meet up the next day.

She's sitting in bed with her phone while Van potters around the apartment, getting ready to join her. There's something very domestic about their situation, but it's nothing new. The toiletries were waiting for her when she arrived, as well as some jewelry and makeup she's left behind. Her sleep shirt is also here; it seemed ridiculous to take it since she always ended up back here.

Really, she's all over this apartment of his. How could she have missed that all these years?

Y/N has been around the world. She's met all different kinds of men, felt different kinds of attraction and infatuation. She's been on many first dates, but rarely a second. She's shared kisses but never gone back for more. And none of them ever saw her apartment.

Instead, she always finds herself back in London, with Van McCann.

He's wearing his boxers when he climbs in with her, taking the book she hands him.

The feeling in her chest grows heavier as she watches him read, pen in his hand. It took some time but she finally finds the source of the heaviness in her chest. Words. They're words weighing her down.

She doesn't know how long they've been pressing on her. Maybe they've been there since high school, waiting for it to be time. For years she hasn't allowed herself to speak them, afraid of what would happen. She loves her freedom and has feared losing it, but Van has shown her that she can have him and still be free. When she's with Van, she has a different kind of freedom.

"Van?" She looks at him, reaching over and pushing his book down to the bed. He lets it go easily, giving her all his attention instead. "I love you."

There's freedom in saying the words. There's no fear, no regret, because she knows with absolute certainty that he loves her just as much in return.

They reach for each other and he strips her of her nightshirt, drags his mouth down her body.

They make love and she doesn't fear the intensity, she embraces it. She's not the only one who's been keeping their words chained up deep in their chest. He sets them free with whispers against her skin. "I love you. I've always loved you. Only you."

After, as she waits for sleep, her head resting against his chest, she thinks about tomorrow and the talk they'll have.

Tomorrow, maybe they'll decide nothing has to change — that they've been with each other for years now, that they've been in a relationship in every way but name. They know they can navigate it, they know their relationship can survive the distance.

Maybe she'll decide that she's done with her New York job and that she wants to try something new, that she loves the life she's made with him in London. He'll offer to find a new apartment, a bigger one, and she'll smile and shake her head, because she loves the one they have.

Maybe he'll offer to come with her to Paris. Van is confident he can write or record anywhere and he'll always have Catfish. They'll find a new apartment and he'll write, creating his own niche in the nation's capital with her.

Maybe they'll both change cities, go somewhere far. He'll transfer studios while she goes to write reviews for the New York Times like she always dreamed. He'll show her his favorite places from the time he wrote the second album, and they'll discover new ones together, making the city their own.

Maybe they'll both take a long vacation and go on a road trip, better than the first one he took when he was young and angry and alone. They'll drive from country to country, state to state, city to city, stay in hotels, see the sights and maybe this time she'll be the one writing her first song.

Tomorrow, she'll tell the family. Tomorrow, they'll no longer be each other's secret. Tomorrow will be the start of something new.

For now, they sleep.

[shiftyskip]

Alex Penkala Jr.

The Real Alex Penkala 

Alex’s parents, Mary and Alex Sr., immigrated from Poland to America in 1907. They were married the next year in Indiana. They moved to Taylor Spring, Illinois in 1910 and in 1918, moved back. They mostly spoke Polish. 

They had their son Alex M. Penkala Jr on August 30, 1924. He was the tenth of thirteen. He was given the nickname Junior, and it is still used today. Only a few of his siblings survived to hear about the show. 

Alex’s mother died during childbirth in 1928. The thirteenth child, a son, was given to relatives and lived under a different name. 

Alex’s family was catholic. They were considered devoutly Catholic, it is probably why he got along with Muck.

In 1920s they lived near Notre Dame University, where both Alex and his father worked. It was a family job center practically. Most of Alex’s siblings worked in various jobs around the university. With all of them working, the family managed to get by better than most people. 

Alex and his siblings spoke both Polish and English. Alex Sr. did not pick up on English and till his death, never could quite speak it. They spoke Polish first and then learned English from school and other events. 

Alex was described by others as an active, muscular kid. He did not talk much, and stood about five feet seven inches. He loved baseball and football. Alex and his friends snuck out to a barn near Notre Dame often and play around in the hay. 

Alex attended a Catholic High School, South Bend Catholic High School, and he enlisted with only one year under his belt. This was common for students to attended one year and drop out to help out around the house to keep money flowing. Alex had a girlfriend, Sylvia, during this time.  It is not for sure, but Alex could’ve been an 18-year old sophomore in high school when he enlisted. 

Alex enlisted on February 27, 1943. His occupations read “motorcycle mechanic or packer high explosives, munitions worker, or tool room keeper, or stock control clerk, or stock clerk.” 

Alex was shipped off to basic training and eventually cook school. No one knew quite why he was picked to be a cook, it’s believed that’s just where the Army put him. Two friends during cook school told him about the paratroopers and they all tried out together, only Alex made it. Alex did not train at Toccoa with the others. His paratrooper training took place else where. 

Alex was one of the first replacements for Easy. His first photo with them is at Fort Bragg, but little is known where he took his training. Only one photo survives of Alex and Skip, one they took at Camp McCal

Alex wrote to his family often. His letters were short and breezy. Most contained the general “I am doing well, how is family, send candy (Alex really wanted candy), I’ll write soon, I got your letter.” For example, 

“Dear Sis, 

I received your letter and was I glad to hear from you. As you probably know by now, I am going to cook’s school for eight weeks, as I am going to make the best of it.

No, I don’t need anything and I don’t want anything for Easter. Thanks anyways. I am not coming home for Easter because no one gets to go home during this time in school. 

You should see the WACs (Women’s Army Corps) here at camp! There are about 150 of them. You should know that Sylvia really doesn’t know how much I love or should I say like her. I don’t even go no place because I keep thinking of her so much.

Well, I am out of time so I’ll have to say goodbye until I write again.

Your brother,

Alex

P.S. Send box candy if you want to.”

“Dear Sis,

Well, I’m ok. Boy and do I like the army….I might get shipped to some other camp. How do you like my writing? I am in a hurry, so you’ll have to excuse it. Write more often. I’ll keep thinking of you.

So long, 

Your brother 

Junior.” 

Alex and Skip Muck got along fairly well because they were both Catholic with rather large families. They worked together on the mortar team, Alex was Skip’s assistant. Everyone claims Alex and Skip were a great, reliable team. 

Alex sailed for England with Easy on September 21, 1943 aboard the Samaraia. Alex had recently visited his home for the last time and they threw a party for him. His family noticed a little Airborne habit he had picked up since he had left: smoking. Alex had never smoked before, but suddenly he was smoking. 

When across the seas, Alex’s letters got shorter and shorter. His sister sent him candy, gloves, and t-shirts. He mostly talked about food and candy. Alex really seemed to love eating. He constantly asked for candy, or fudge, or peanuts. Most of his letters ended with him asking for food. “Send me something to eat-anything!”

 Alex went on a trip with Perconte to Ireland. Alex spotted a lady with her luggage and helped her. Perconte saw this and tried to convince Alex to flirt, Alex protested saying she was married. He had already gotten to know her fairly fast, or the lady just assumed other intentions were involved and told him straight out. He still helped her.

Speaking of relationships. While in England, Alex got a “Dear John Letter” from Sylvia. The break up didn’t affect him much and soon he was dating another girl in England. He talked about various girls in his letters.

A new replacement, Joe Lesniewski, said the first person to talk to him when he transferred was Alex. They both spoke Polish and became good friends. Joe taught them how to sing western songs. 

Alex jumped on D-Day and landed on a barn roof. He climbed down and joined his unit somehow. No one knows much about Alex’s D-Day experience other than he and Skip were the only ones from his squad to survive and he was acting as corporal. Alex signed a parachute after D-Day. His niece currently owns that as a gift from Joe. 

Alex made the jump into Holland in September 1944. Alex wrote only one letter home after that. 

On January 10, 1945, the Germans were raining a hard artillery strike on the American forces in Bois Jacques Woods near Foy, Belgium. The men scrambled to find foxholes under the shelling. Alex and Skip were in their large foxhole when a shell landed directly on them and killed them instantly. Not much remained of either man.

Alex was buried twice. Originally in France and then in Luxembourge with Skip Muck. He had two burial flags, one for each burial. The Penkala and Muck families remain close to this day.

[swordsandfire]

Headcanon: some differences between the twins

Looks:

Being twins, the share a very similar facial structure: a strong jawline, short pointy ears, sharp high cheekbones. But at first glance it is quite noticeable a difference in horn length: Kash gets the longer horns, curved upwards at the ends. Kahen’s are much shorter and straighter as they go back, earning him the nickname only Kashaadi has for him: Short Horns.

Length of hair is also a great difference. Kahen prefers to keep it short and well kept, usually combed back except for a few rebelious short locks that fall a bit over his forehead, as well as neatly shaved (he doesn’t like having a stubble). Kashaadi’s hair, on the other hand, is ridiculously long and abundant, a mass of long white silvery hair that flows smoothly down her back, just a bit lower than the small of her back.

Kash is also the tallest of the two, but merely by an inch so it’s barely noticeable unless they’re standing upright and back to back. She knows though, and likes to remind Kahen about it.

Both have facial tattoos: Kahen’s are plain grey, darker than his skin, and it’s only the facial markings. Kash has red tattoos on her cheekbones and brow, but the tattoos don’t stop there for her. She has intrincate patterns all over her right arm and leg, plus left hip. They’re usually covered under her clothes though, out of sight unless she takes them off or wears something meant for warmer weather.

Clothes and decorations

Kahen has a taste for more formal clothing. He likes fine shirts and vests, and he’ll be seen wearing those if he can get his hands on them with money he has saved. He likes belts and buckles as well, and an be seen wearing those often. While he is a warrior and is usually on the front line in a fight, he dislikes wearing heavy gear like metallic armour, because it slows him down. He prefers his gear lighter, and his clothes in darker colours.

He wears one single earring, near the tip of his right ear. Other than that, he prefers not to wear flashy jewelry.

Kash, on the other hand, likes things flashy. She’ll wear shiny armour and no one can stop her. She wears multiple earrings and will gladly wear necklaces and bracelets if the occasion calls for it. In clothing, she goes for red, pink, purple and yellows.

Manners and personality

Kash is the snarky twin. Crude jokes, teasing, constant flirting, and harsh ‘not going to make my thoughts pretty for you’ comments. Not much filter between her thoughts and her mouth, and she won’t stop herself from flirting with strangers just because it might be inappropiate. But this also makes her look more relaxed and open than her brother.

Kahen is more formal. Stoic, more careful with his choice of words, most of the time on business-mode. He keeps a serious demeanour, often appearing cold and unfeeling (or easily annoyed, when Kash is teasing him and being inappropiate). He’s less carefree and more calculating, and tries not to show much emotion as to not let his guard down.

Likes and dislikes

Kash likes noise, partying, making bets where she knows she’s going to be the winner, dancing and messing around with people (in more than one sense of it). She doesn’t like rules a lot, but follows them for the sake of doing a good job when needed (though is not afraid of bending them in almost extreme ways). She likes great crowds in taverns, fire, sweet wine.

Kahen likes things more quiet. He likes reading, sailing, the sea air. He likes talking business, a strategy well planned with all the details figured out. Doing things in time, being early to places, taking precautions. Planning ahead. He likes music as well, string instruments preferably, if he has a choice what to hear (he finds it relaxing). He dislikes drinking (alcohol), and would rather have a cup of coffee over a glass of wine.