#i know it's easy to focus on the tiny differences but we should shift our attention to the INSANE achievement of recreating all these songs

[asteracaea]

i'm really pleasantly surprised at how much i like taylor's version of i wish you would! usually with my very favorite songs i'm much more sensitive to and intolerant of the minute differences, but it's a really really good duplicate!

[yuriko-mukami]

Her Calamity Dark 04

Beta reader: @ruki-mukami-dl

Chapter Selection

Yuriko was washing rice while Yuuto stood right next to her, watching her every move. Sunlight sparkled from the droplets of water, reminding her how sweltered it was outside. It was slightly sweaty in the apartment, too, for it was only one room, and this tiny kitchen along with a bathroom. And right now, the kitchen felt even smaller than usual since Azusa had come with Yuriko. He was now working on the second counter with a vegetable-cutting task he had volunteered himself.

“It’s not difficult. You should use fresh water and then you just keep washing until the water stays clear.” Yuriko rolled the rice over again and again by her hand while staring at it. She wasn’t the best cook – and nothing compared to Ruki – but she knew how to make a few dishes. “Kareeraisu is a convenient choice because you will eat it for several days and the taste only gets thicker later. I made it often when… when I was still living with… Keisuke. That way I could focus on… hmm… other things because I didn’t need to make meals every day.”

“Makes sense…” Yuuto shrugged. “He should have cooked for you tho. It’s a parental duty.”

“Umh… Mom always said it was a woman’s duty to make sure the family gets to eat…” Yuriko shifted. Not that their mother had done that too often. Yuriko had tried to do all possible household chores while studying in middle school and high school. She had wanted to be good. But it hadn’t been enough.

“Dontcha go there…”

Yuriko lifted her head, glancing at Yuuto. “Eh?”

“I know that face. Dontcha let that happen. There’s nothin’ you could done differently. Our parents didn’t know how to raise kids, that’s for sure. So, dontcha let it get you. You gotta keep your head up high and move forward.” Yuuto ruffled Yuriko’s hair, making her blink heavily. She wouldn’t cry now.

“Yuuto…”

“Oi, no cryin’. You’re a tough vixen who can push through, not a pup.” Yuuto smiled, making even more of a mess of Yuriko’s hair. “Didcha hear me?”

“I… I… yes, of course.”  Yuriko nodded. She turned to look at the rice again and poured it into the rice cooker – the necessity she had told Yuuto should have. “Okay… now, we need to fry the pork and then simmer it with the vegetables.”

Yuuto pulled out a frying pan and tossed the meat on it. After setting the gas, Yuriko showed him how he should constantly move the meat with the cooking chopsticks so that it wouldn’t burn into the pan.

“How do you know all this?” Yuuto scratched his head. “I mean... you said our mother didn’t teach you much…”

“I read books. The library had some about cooking too.” Yuriko handed the chopsticks to Yuuto. “You should try it now. Haven’t you cooked anything before?”

“I know how to make an omuraisu.”

Yuriko tilted her head. “Eh? It’s super difficult to roll perfectly, I always end up breaking it. I bet you’ll manage the meat just fine then~” 

As Yuriko kept her eyes on the frying pan, Yuuto worked on the pork. She was pleased to see there weren’t any problems at all. She should send the recipe later to his phone, and then he could make this dish anytime he wished. Next time she would teach him another easy dish.

“I found a cheap laundry service nearby, so that’s settled too.” Yuuto continued frying the meat. “I just need a steady job…”

“You could… ask Karlheinz-sama…” Azusa commended from his duty.

“Absolutely not. I’m not gonna ask that je–”

Yuriko gasped, clapping her hand on her brother’s arm. “Yuuto! Don’t say it!”

“Fuck!” Yuuto tensed under Yuriko’s touch, and she let go of him. “Sorry… It’s just… damn those bloo– Vampires. I still don’t like them…”

“Azusa-kun is right here…” Yuriko whispered.

“It is okay… Yuriko-chan… I know that… Christina, Justin and Melissa… will always… love me…” 

Yuuto mumbled something, but Yuriko poked him between his ribs and left him alone with the frying pan, roaming toward Azusa. She had always wondered who these three friends of his were, for she had never seen them but Azusa had mentioned them often. Since he had been kind enough to bring her here, she should make an effort to get to know him better.

Leaning her bottom on the kitchen drawers, Yuriko smiled at the Vampire. “Say… Azusa-kun… umh… about Christina-san, Justin-san and Melissa-san…”

“Yes, Yuriko-chan?” Suddenly sparkly eyes glanced at the young Kitsune woman. Azusa held the knife firmly in one of his hands while nicely cut carrots occupied the chopping board with pieces of onion. There was still one potato waiting to be worked on.

“These friends of yours… Can I meet them one day?” Yuriko tilted her head, and her curls tickled her cheek. 

If there had been sparkles in Azusa’s eyes before, now they truly lit up as if he had been waiting for this question all along. To Yuriko’s surprise, he put the knife away and started to roll up his sleeve, revealing his slender arm full of faded… Were those scars?

Azusa drew his finger along his arm. “This here is Justin…” He glanced at Yuriko and continued. “This is Christina… and this…” Azusa gasped. “Melissa… is… almost gone… I must do… something…”

Before Yuriko had time to react, Azusa had grabbed the kitchen knife again, running the blade over the barely visible scar. Crimson elixir poured on his white skin.

“Oh my gosh! Azusa-kun!”

“Fuck! Stop that shit!” Yuuto was on Yuriko’s side within a second, snatching Azusa by his wrist and forcing his hand up. Azusa fought back.

“Please… Yuuto-san… stab me…”

“Fuckin’ hell I’d do that! Now, gimme the damn knife!” Yuuto’s words made Azusa release his grip of the knife that Yuuto caught.

Yuriko whimpered, pushing closer. “Yuuto, please, don’t!”

“Huh? I ain’t gonna stab him!” Yuuto pressed the knife into Yuriko’s hands without letting go of Azusa. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You ain’t doin’ such shit in front of Sis, you hear me?!”

“Squeeze… harder… Yuuto-san…” Azusa sounded almost happy, making Yuuto’s eyes widen as Yuriko simply stared at the view. “Ruki said… I can’t ask… Yuriko-chan… but he didn’t say… I can’t ask you… to hurt me.”

Swallowing, Yuriko tossed the knife on the cutting board and took support from the counter. She didn’t understand what was going on with Azusa. Why had he cut his own arm? That must have hurt so badly, and now there was blood slithering down his arm, soaking his shirt. This was terrible. Yuriko clenched her fingers against the edge of the counter as the kitchen swayed before her. She was gasping for air, almost panting. She didn’t want to lose yet another family member. Azusa shouldn’t cut himself; he could hit a critical place and then… and then…

“Fuck! Sis! Breathe!” Yuuto snatched Yuriko by her upper arms, swinging her slightly.

“Is… she enjoying so much… that she is… out of breath?” Azusa’s face appeared closer. Two pairs of eyes stared at Yuriko, one worried, the other curious. 

“I… I… can’t lose more people…” Yuriko trembled. Yuuto pulled her closer, enveloping her with his arms. For a while, there was complete silence in the kitchen as he stroked her back, swaying her back and forth.

“No one’s gonna leave you… It was just an accident.” Yuuto’s speech was mumbling against Yuriko’s hair.

“Yuuto-san… the meat…” Azusa said behind the siblings.

“FUCK!” Yuuto released Yuriko and dashed toward the stove, lifting the pan from it, and shutting down the gas. The smell of burning danced in the air when Yuriko tried to steady her breathing. 

“Yuriko-chan…” Azusa touched on Yuriko’s shoulder.

Blinking tears from her eyes, Yuriko gaped. Azusa’s skin would heal… He wouldn’t go away because of a single wound. He was a Vampire after all; there was no reason to worry. Everything was alright. They were all safe.

“You okay?” Yuuto patted Yuriko’s head and waited until she nodded. “Listen, Sis. I’m gonna need your help. You know how to do this… So, it’s your task now to finish that dish. I’m gonna patch Azusa up in the meantime. Can you cook?”

Yuriko nodded again. “I… I… can.”

“Cool.” Yuuto grinned, turning around, and taking hold of Azusa’s arm. “You, with me.” Without further explanation, he walked the Vampire toward the bathroom. Yuriko was left alone in the kitchen, and it took a moment before she could cut the potato and start cooking again.

Yuriko poked her portion with the spoon. The atmosphere had changed after Azusa’s incident. It was clear that the Vampire wasn’t truly happy that Yuuto had wrapped a new bandage around his arm, securing the fresh wound under it. Yuriko wondered if she should tell Ruki about this later… but he probably already knew that Azusa might do something like this. At least it had sounded like that if Azusa wasn’t allowed to ask her to stab him.

Who would think such a thing beforehand without a reason? Yes, Ruki must already be aware that something like this could happen.

Shaking her head, Yuriko finally tasted the meal. Spices tickled on her tongue. She had added a bit too much but couldn’t be helped now.

“Yuuto-san… do you have… shichimi or chili?” Azusa looked at the Kitsune as if nothing had been up earlier.

Yuriko gaped. “But… but… there’s so much spice already…”

Azusa shook his head. “I could… add some more…” 

“Haa… just a moment.” Yuuto rose from the table and went to get the chili. He placed the tiny jar in front of Azusa who gladly took it. It was almost disturbing how much of it he poured over his rice and curry sauce. 

Yuriko turned her head and decided it was time to sail to the safer waters. Hopefully safer. “Yuuto… say… were you the only one with the white hair in the village?”

Yuuto was just about to push the spoon into his mouth but now lowered his hand. “Yeah. Why?”

“Umh… I wonder what they look like as foxes then?”

“Usually, the color of their fur is close to their hair. Like you and me.” Yuuto tasted the food and smiled. “Damn, this is good! You really know how to cook.”

“It’s just a simple dish.” Yuriko waved her hand hastily but couldn’t hide her smile. Still, her mind was wandering. “Are… are there other white foxes then?”

Yuuto shrugged. “Within the Yako, white’s a rare color. It occurs at times, like in our family apparently. It’s more common with the Zenko but even many of them have other fur colors too.”

“The Zenko?”

“The Kitsune in the Human World. All they do is cause trouble, so stay away from them. They kidnap the Yako children… I was in a rescue party at some point for gettin’ them back.” Yuuto frowned and explained how the Yako already had problems because the Vampires hunted their females and then the Zenko had made the situation even worse by taking some young vixens. It had been a constant fight and Yuuto had worked to get them back a few years ago. “But then Grandpa told me not to go to the Human World anymore. I did other jobs after that.”

Yuriko nodded. So, the fox she had seen could have been a Zenko. But the fox had only watched. And Yuriko was constantly with the Mukamis. So, there was no reason to worry about this matter, right?

Eating her food, Yuriko listened to the talk. Something felt off but she couldn’t quite put her finger into it. Maybe it was just because there was so much new information. Half a year ago she hadn’t known anything about the Kitsune aside from the folklore tales and now living as one had become her reality. Yet, all this talk about the Yako and the Zenko only sounded confusing. 

“Umh… why… the Yako are living in the Demon World and the Zenko in the Human World?” Yuriko pondered between spoonfuls of rice. “I mean… they are all Kitsune. Why fight? They could just get along and live in peace.”

“The Zenko took over the Kitsune Realms in ancient times and chased the Yako out there. The Founders gave the Yako a new realm, so that’s why…”

“Eh? Shin and Carla-san did that?” Yuriko blinked. “Just when…?”

“Dunno. But it was probably their parents… I mean, those jerks are surely ancient but not that ancient.” Yuuto emptied his plate, starting to fill it again with rice and sauce. “Anyway, the First Bloods were away for the longest time. I only saw them comin’ this year. Suddenly, they walked in and said they’d renew the old vows. Whatever that means. It didn’t change a shit for me. But Grandpa was all ‘Carla-sama’, ‘Shin-sama’, beggin’ for their attention… disgustin’. For me, they’re the same blood-suckin’ scum as —”

“Yuuto!” Yuriko glared at Yuuto and then glanced at Azusa, but the Vampire was focused on eating his portion in silence and didn’t seem even to listen to the siblings’ conversation. “Yuuto… Shin is my friend and he helped me to save you. He made Grandpa give your star pearl back. We… we should be grateful.”

“Yeah… yeah…” Yuuto sighed. “You surely have been busy making such friends. Vampires, Founders… What else?”

“Umh… zombies but humans too.” Yuriko pushed the last spoonful into her mouth. This could be a good chance to mention Nalia. “Actually… one of my friends would like to meet you.”

“Huh? Why?” Yuuto frowned again. “I don’t have time for silly little teen vixens.”

“Hmph, my friends aren’t silly little teen vixens!” Yuriko shoved her plate aside and started to search for her phone. “Besides, you have all the time. And she isn’t a teen or even a fox. She’s a nice human.” 

Yuriko put her phone on the table and tapped Nalia’s picture on the screen, turning the phone to face Yuuto. “She’s around your age and I can assure you she’s good company. She is looking for friends, so…” 

“Haa… dunno… I shouldn’t mess up with people. Humans. There’s enough shit goin’ on without.” Yuuto shrugged but picked up the phone, staring at the photo. “Red hair and green eyes, huh? She’s a foreigner, right?”

“Mhm. Her last name is Wagner, so yes, I think she is.” Yuriko realized that she still hadn’t asked where Nalia was from. She totally should do that —

“Nalia-san… is probably from… Germany then…” Azusa said, smiling over his plate. “Wagner is… a German name.”

“See? Nalia is a pretty human lady from Germany, and she’s interested in meeting you.” Yuriko beamed at Yuuto, wondering how Azusa knew about German names. He didn’t strike her as a person who had knowledge like that, more like Ruki could have said it. But maybe there was more in Azusa than met the eye.

“Dunno…” Yuuto sighed, starting to eat his second portion.

Yuriko leaned in, putting on the best pleading face she could manage. She stared at Yuuto with wide eyes and smiled. “Please? It would make me happy.”

“Haa… You ain’t throwin’ me with such lil’ sis’ stuff! Not a fair game!” But no matter how annoyed Yuuto tried to look, a chuckle escaped him. He lifted his free hand and ruffled Yuriko’s hair. “Fine, I’ll meet her. Tell her to come to that park nearby.”

When Yuriko had put her shoes back on and was ready to step out of Yuuto’s apartment, he grabbed her arm and nodded toward the door. “You sure it’s okay to go alone with him?” 

Glancing at the door, Yuriko frowned. Azusa was waiting for her behind it, but she was aware that he could hear them. She placed her hand over Yuuto’s and pushed to remove it from her arm. “I’m sure… don’t worry, Yuuto. I have lived with them for a while now. Neither of them is hurting me or anything like that.”

“He seems… unstable.” Yuuto sighed. “Look, I’ve seen shitty things. Some people just lose it if too much happens. Dontcha be too near to him when… Haa… if things start to go south.”

“Really, Yuuto?” Yuriko placed her hands on her hips and stared at her brother. “You… you and me… have gone through lots of bad stuff too. We… should get others a chance to prove themselves before judging.”

“He pretty much proved himself today…” Yuuto turned his gaze to the wall. “You’re much more stubborn than a little sister should be. You should listen to me more.”

“I… I… start to listen when you… umh… start to make sense.” Yuriko wanted to kick something. As much as she enjoyed having a brother, she wished that Yuuto didn’t butt in her decisions constantly. It had been enough that she had tried to be good for mother and fath– Keisuke. That hadn’t mattered in the least. Now, she would do as she wished. She would keep the happiness that had been handed to her. Even if she needed to fight for it.

“Hmph, vixens should always do as foxes are telling them…”

This again? Yuriko glared at Yuuto. That was the stupidest reason he could come up with, especially since he had learned it from their relatives who had kept him against his will in the Demon World for years.

“Maybe you should reconsider that. You wanted out of there… Now, you should play by the rules of this realm.” Why couldn’t Yuuto understand? Yuriko had imagined how they would do fun things together, how she would finally have a family member who supported her… but she had gotten an overly protective douchebag of a brother who couldn’t accept how she was living her life. “I… I… will go now. I’ll visit you again later. Maybe with Ruki that time. See you later, Yuuto.”

This time Yuriko was allowed to step out. She pressed the door shut behind her and took a deep breath. The sweltering and moist afternoon air slithered into her lungs while enveloping every inch of her skin, making her feel instantly sweaty. It hadn’t been this bad last summer… or any summer before but this year the heat was really a bother.

The walk through the city did not feel any better since the sun was scorching from above. Yuriko was relieved when they finally stepped into the park which had at least some shadows. She hurried under the trees. Maybe they should have used the limousine, but she had insisted on walking since she wasn’t allowed to go jogging in the woods while Ruki was away.

“Are you… sad, Yuriko-chan?” Azusa’s words took Yuriko aback. She glanced at the Vampire next to her, shaking her head.

“Umh… no, Azusa-kun. I simply wish that Yuuto would see how good people you all are.”

“Good… people…?” It almost looked like Azusa couldn’t quite understand what Yuriko meant. “But… are you… missing Ruki now?”

Yuriko turned her gaze to the path they were walking. Going through here would take them into the forest but perhaps that was for the best. Surely, it was less sweaty there. “I’m looking forward to him coming home, yes. And I hope everything is alright with Karlheinz-sama.”

“The Vampire king?!” The voice bounced behind the trees at the same time as a white-grey head peeked out. Amber-yellow eyes pierced Yuriko but they seemed friendly.

Within seconds, Azusa had moved in front of Yuriko. A young man stepped out, scratching his head, and laughing like he was nervous. He was only a little taller than Yuriko. She was pretty sure they must be around the same age. But the most interesting detail arrived when the wind shifted and made the scent of the man waft toward Yuriko and Azusa.

A Kitsune. Without a doubt. He smelled like Yuuto, yet a bit different. In a similar manner, the Vampires had a distinguished scent but each of them was still unique. 

Yuuto said that white fur is rare for the Yako… So, does it mean that this man is… What was the other name? Yuriko shifted, trying to see better behind Azusa.

“You are… a fox person…” Azusa lifted his hand to prevent Yuriko from dashing in front of him. 

“Yeah, I surely am.” The Kitsune grinned, flashing his canines, and ruffled his hair. “The cutest fox in the city… Though… Now, I’m not sure anymore. You have such a cutie there~”

“Emh… How do you know that I am…?” Yuriko placed her hand on Azusa’s shoulder but stayed put.

“Easy! My brother and I saw you in the cafe before… and that smell of yours. Though, there’s so much Vampire in it too.” The Kitsune stopped for a moment, moving a bit closer. “Now, it makes sense. You sure hang out with these Vampires a lot. Such a cool vixen you are! I hope the blond one didn’t give you real trouble… For a moment I wanted to jump in there but Toshi-nii said it would be too dangerous…”

Just how much did this young man talk? Yuriko tried to keep at his pace and absorb every word. Suddenly, it dawned on her. The two white-haired men in the cafe and later in the street when she had talked with Kou! 

And in the library too. But it wasn’t this man… So… probably this Toshi-san he mentioned…

“Yuriko-chan… we must go…” Azusa took Yuriko’s arm and started to pull her along the path, making sure he was in between her and the Kitsune.

“But… but… He seems like a good person!” Yuriko glanced back. 

“I am a cute person!” The man waved his hand. “Kozima Toru is the name! I’m happy to meet a new vixen in the city, but I can see you’re busy now. Let’s talk more later~ Maybe after the mating season is over!”

Kozima Toru? Yuriko glanced back again but the Kitsune had disappeared. The name didn’t ring any bells to her but at least it wasn’t Nakamura, her grandpa’s family name. Perhaps her grandfather had not sent this man after her. Men. The first time, there had been two of them.  But then… They were tailing her on their own? That didn’t seem alright either, and Yuriko was sure Ruki wouldn’t like the news. Yet, she also knew it was better to tell him when he would come back home. Keeping secrets wouldn’t do any good, right?

[notnctu]

switchin’ lanes - l.jn | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series 

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, pwp???, fluff (if u squint) wordcount ➠ 8.3k details ➠  fem!reader, streetracer!jeno, badboy!jeno, college!au,  ━ where you and jeno are in a relationship, but not with each other. warnings ➠ explicit language, cheating, flirty banter, alcohol consumption, drugs, yall at a party, physical fighting (not with you), mentions of cuts/bruises, hickeys, drunk public dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f/receiving) synopsis ➠ If your boyfriend didn’t decide to join such a stupid unofficial club, then maybe you wouldn’t be in such a sticky situation where Lee Jeno is literally knuckles deep in your sticky situation as he drives you home. Or maybe if your boyfriend actually touched you, then you wouldn’t be seeking it from someone else, who can’t keep his hands off of you. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo​ ; @dearlyminhyung​

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! i hope you enjoy the series pls leave me feedback lmaoo ill literally take anything. we also hit a milestone for followers and honestly its so crazy to know how quickly this tiny sideblog has grown! we’re so thankful that yall follow us, thank u for lovin us and we will try our best to put out more content!! also through the lens hit 1k notes how is that even possible like wow im speechless thank u for everyone who left such kind comments i treasure every form of feedback :) 

The heavy double doors of the classroom stare tauntingly at you. The evening setting in, painting the sky with strokes of orange and pink. You managed to remain complaint free the entire day, until your forgetful boyfriend canceled on you because of a club meeting. A meeting for an unofficial club on campus because it is illegal to street race. A club consists of delinquents that are obsessed with cars and steal your boyfriend away from you. 

This is the fifth time this week that your boyfriend stood you up or coincidentally forgot your dates. You can’t remember the last time he physically stood in front of you and not through a phone screen. However, it is not completely the stupid club’s fault that your boyfriend has neglected you. 

He truly is the worst boyfriend ever. He blames everything on his bad memory and does not prioritize you in his life. He loves one thing --- his car. You could be lying in a hospital bed, and he wouldn’t care to check up on you. 

So why did you stay with him? Because you’re scared of being alone? Possibly, but it is a can of worms that you did not want to open just yet. Sex is definitely not the reason you stay with him. He hasn’t touched you sexually since the first and now, last time you two slept together. 

You try your best, to only be waved off with a yawn. He doesn’t compliment you. He doesn’t look at you lovingly. He doesn’t even kiss you for longer than two seconds. You are a toppling tower, ready to crumble at any given moment.

The anger in your body fuels you as you pull the door open to reveal several men in leather jackets chatting away with each other. One by one, they all begin to lay their eyes on who abruptly interrupted their joyous conversations. Your eyes scan the room full of intimidating men, whose auras cause a shiver to run down your spine.

Your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, given that there are plenty enough guys who have the ability to cover him. You walk into the open space and the entire mood of the room shifts. 

Heavy cologne and a deafening silence fill the air. One particular male, who has been eyeing you the entire time, gets up and walks towards you. 

“Are you lost, baby?” Scoffs and chuckles sparsely cover the corners of the room. The unknown male has a jarring cut on his eyebrow, matching a small bruise on his upper cheekbone. 

“I’m looking for my boyfriend…” Your weak voice trails off from the sudden attractive male intimidation. The tall man peers around the room, crossing his arms.

“If you are this beautiful woman’s boyfriend, please fucking come out now. It’s very rude to keep your girl waiting for you!” Initially, his low throaty shout startles you. A heavy heat falls on your cheeks when you register his choice of adjectives.

The whole room falls silent once more, before your pitiful boyfriend steps out from between two bulkier men. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?” His eyes nervously bounce around the room, a shaky laughter erupting from his gut. 

“Sorry, Jeno. I didn’t mean to cause such a scene. I didn’t even see her come in.”

Like a trigger, you remember your intentions for storming in uninvited. Jeno gauges your flaming reaction to your boyfriend’s apologetic words. He nods, not out of acceptance of the apology, but out of disbelief.

He pulls your boyfriend by the collar of his white shirt and your eye widens at the condescending tone that causes your boyfriend to cower, “I’m not the one to apologize to.” With a careless toss, your boyfriend ends up shaking in front of you.

“Jeno is not the only one you should be scared of.” You whisper angrily to him as the rest of the room continues on with their previous chatter. 

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, “listen, Jeno’s been arrested before. You don’t want to get on that man’s bad side.” 

Your eyes wander behind your boyfriend’s hunching shoulders, catching Jeno steal peeks at you too. There is no interest in the other rambling male that stands in front of him. He just wants to check you out a bit more. 

He is the hottest person you’ve ever gotten the attention of. You feel flustered, and a bit flattered at his lingering gaze. His brown hair is slicked back messily, giving you more to admire. Jeno is an absolute cliche from a bad boy fanfiction. He is unreal, and the odd chance that he can’t keep his eyes off of you, is also unreal. 

But with a light nudge from a blue haired fellow, Jeno’s eyes peel away from your’s. They exchange a few words, which then propels Jeno to hurriedly put on his slightly tattered leather jacket.

You lick your lips to the sight of his body lines as he stands up to follow his friend, but not without another look back at you. Noticing your stare still on him, he bids you a tiny wave goodbye with a smirk to die for. And like that, he’s gone. 

“Are you listening to me?” Your boyfriend’s voice finally reaches your reality. Your focus shifts to the obviously irritated expression on his face. 

“I guess, I’m not. Don’t fucking stand me up again or I will key your car.” You aren’t actually those kinds of girls, but your boyfriend didn’t take a threat seriously unless it involves his highly treasured car. 

And like Jeno, you also make your exit out of the steamy room. The chilly night brush against your unknowingly hot cheeks. Then, you take yourself to the only unhealthy coping mechanism you can think of: a place of free alcohol and no boyfriend.

It takes you a few months to completely stop caring about your dying relationship. You figure how easy it is for your boyfriend to do it, so you make the same decision.

He spends his nights with his friends he made from his club, and has totally become a self proclaimed car enthusiast. You lose yourself in copious amounts of cheap alcohol at your local parties and it’s almost like you stop sulking over a man who kisses his car goodnight.

While being alone did not bother you as much as you had been dreading, the sexual frustration is a completely different issue. You are absolutely drooling whenever your eyes find Jeno in the crowds of sweaty bodies.

If there is one good thing that came out of your boyfriend’s membership in that club, it had to be Lee Jeno and a few other notable people who attended the same parties as you.

He became a very close acquaintance, and you had learned some very important names associated with the Ridin’ Club. Na Jaemin, Lee Haechan, and Huang Renjun. But the three could not compare to the kindhearted Jeno that makes butterflies stir in your lower abdomen. 

Over the months, you also had learned rather quickly that your sexually clouded mind had tricked you previously into thinking that Jeno’s stares were full of lust for you. His girlfriend makes it clear that it isn’t the case.

Although you have caught the couple making out several times when trying to use the bathroom, your feverish, impure attraction toward Jeno never calmed down.

“You’re looking very tempting tonight, baby.” Jeno’s beaming eye smile greets you, even after completely undressing you with his gaze. His arms are wide open to embrace your warm body. 

The parties are always too hot to wear a fully clothed outfit. You often settle for a cute tank top and a short skirt to prevent your legs from collecting extra moisture. Jeno, without a fail, shows up in black jeans that clad his lower half, tucked with a simple white shirt. His tattoos and toned arms being on full display for you to admire. 

“Better make sure your actual baby doesn’t hear that.” The loud beats of the music make Jeno’s chuckle almost inaudible, but his expression remains cheerful, as per usual. “Did you get into another fight?” 

The fresh wound cut through his smooth complexion, which will eventually join the rest of his collection of fading scars. He mindlessly grazes over the new bandaging and dramatically winces. Clearly concerned, you grab his hand away from the injury. “Don’t touch it, stupid.”

His smile curves into a sly smirk, as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” His chest heaves into a fit of giggles, “just wanted to see you care for me.” 

Groaning, you shake his massive hand off of your’s. “Very funny. I should start charging you for my attention.” 

“Name your price, I got all the money in the world for you.” He winks, while lightly pinching your cheek. You are lying to yourself if you thought you could ever stay away from him. Jeno stirs up a part of you that craves the cheesy nicknames, flirty comments and the undivided attention. 

He motions you to follow him into the mess of people. Almost as if he’s a god, the crowd parts for you two to walk through without unnecessary extra bodies. The fear that settles in many individuals’ chest is understandable.

Like your first impression, Jeno is a complete walking fanfiction trope. He negotiates better with his fists, usually with good reason. The guns of the Ridin’ Club, though, his friends are very much to be feared as well. They will not hesitate to run someone over, if given the heated situation to do so. And most definitely, you can count them to be backing up their fighter, Jeno. 

You had not been mindful before of the chatter that regarded the secret Ridin’ Club. They are notorious for fast paced very illegal races in the middle of nowhere destinations and tempers that aren’t meant to be provoked. Besides their intimidating aura, it melts away after getting to know them.

Lee Haechan, the most annoying brat, but has the strongest, the most loyal bond to his boys. He’s also notably funny, often making you laugh with an exchange of banter.

Huang Renjun, the whiniest and initially quiet boy, but grows to be one of the loudest and will chew you out if anyone dares try engaging in verbal combat. 

Na Jaemin, the flirty playboy who always has a swarm of girls, but the gentlest man with a soft spot for cute things. 

And finally, Lee Jeno, the owner of your nights. He is the friendliest of them all, despite him being the toughest one. While his stare can kill, melting away his layers reveal the warmest heart. Not that Jeno is the only one to show initial interest in you, but he is the most considerate to the people he holds close to him.

He has taken care of you for many drunk nights and watched protectively over your intoxicated figure in the crowds. He makes you feel safe and seen, which are some of the many reasons you are entirely attracted to him.

“(Y/N)!” Jaemin’s scream pierce your ears the moment the blueberry catches your eye. He excitedly nudges the other two boys, who are busy pouring drinks into red cups.

“You’re going to make me spill it, idiot!” Renjun grumbles, but looks up to see your dazzling smile and tremendous excitement. His own smile grows, “so the life of the party finally decided to say hi.”

“Hi, my fanclub. I appreciate the long awaited greeting.” Your over the top, sarcasm causes all of them to chime loudly. Haechan hands you a cup and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

Jeno joins you at your side and the five of you clink your drinks to the ceiling. A fit of yells over the music and a competition of who can finish first. As per usual, you set your cup down after draining the entirety. The others are still chugging the burning liquid down their throats. 

Haechan coughs after dropping his cup onto the counter. His face is twisted with the most disgusted contour, “I don’t know how you do it, (Y/N).”

“I already drank more than you guys, so it just tastes like water now.” You scream over the loud music. Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun toss their empty cups into the sink. 

At this rate, you are completely blindsided by the effects of the alcohol as your legs give out to gravity. Jeno catches you quickly, holding your elbows and your head is placed on his shoulder. Jaemin chuckles lovingly, before helping Jeno balance you against the island. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders, as the room spins in front of you. 

“You good?” Haechan pats your head gently, whispering close to you.

“I---” You try catching your breath after being winded. “--It’s hitting me now.”

Jeno wraps his arm around your lower waist to draw you close to him, “want to go sit down?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod, Jeno and Renjun supporting your limp body to walk over to the couch.

The dark living room is lit up only by colorful led lights, but it is not enough to make out much of anything. Everyone is in their own world, dancing and socializing within their own selves. The two men set you down on the cushion, but your impulse catches onto Jeno’s wrist before he leaves. Renjun is already lost in the crowd.

“Can I sit on your lap?” You pout cutely, all the shame in your body has been displaced with courage. Jeno’s eyes soften at your sudden request, and kisses the top of your forehead.

“The throne is all yours.” He says as he sits at your side and pulls you on top of his thick thighs. His arm is loosely dangling around your waist, resting on top of your thighs. 

The intimate position causes your mind to wander into dark thoughts. His strong, sturdy legs feel delicious against your clothed core. While you’ve been in this position once before, you could never forget how protected, yet very horny it makes you feel. 

“What’s on your mind, (y/n)?” Jeno’s deep voice brushes against your bare shoulder and you feel his chest press against your back. “You’ve been pretty silent tonight.”

You turn slightly to face him, “if I told you, I’m scared it would ruin things between us.”

“There’s nothing in the world that can hold me back from you.” He is always so quick to spill such alluring words. His soft lips graze lightly on your skin as his sparkling eyes look up at your expression.

All it takes is one more tiny kiss on your arm to get you grabbing his face, drawing him into a steamy, long awaited kiss. Surprisingly, he kisses you back, open mouth and tongue lapping with your’s. His hands reposition your legs to where you straddle him. Your faces dive deeper into each other’s as the kiss continues to intensify.

Jeno’s lips still have a hint of alcohol, but he mostly tastes like mint gum. And they are comparable to a cloud, the softest lips you have ever made out with. It is like kissing pure heaven, completely different from your boyfriend’s two second pecks. Jeno devours you in a needy way, like he’s been waiting to explore the wonders of your lips. 

However, you pull away when you feel the vibration of his phone against your inner thigh, almost like a wake up call. As if all the liquid courage disappeared, you blink back in shock at Jeno’s plump wet lips. The thought of his girlfriend crosses your mind, and maybe slight guilt for your own boyfriend fills your system.

You quickly start getting up from his hot body, “fuck, I’m so sorry..” But his hands pull you back onto him, your legs finding their way open above his thighs again. 

“Don’t be, I’ve always wondered what your lips would taste like.” A smirk, then a hearty chuckle relaxes your contracting nerves at the potential of a ruined friendship. 

“But, your girlfriend..” Your tiny voice trails off and Jeno picks up your chin. His fingers rubbing along your jawline.

His eyes do another lap around your features. He admires your averting shy eyes, your beautiful lips, and how they all come together to make a stunning you. 

There is no doubt in Jeno’s mind that he is very attracted to you. He knew it the moment you barged into the club meeting. You are his type of woman, a good mixture of confident and timidness. You like to have some fun, and aren't afraid to be bold. Not to mention, that you are incredibly hot and every time you flirt back just makes him melt inside.

“She won’t care. She hooks up with people all the time.” It puzzles you, all this time you had been holding yourself back from Jeno because he has a girlfriend. All to find out that the relationship isn’t as serious as you thought it to be.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. But we aren’t two people to be tied down, but at the same time, we like each other enough to want to stay together.”

Your confused expression causes Jeno to laugh and ask, “what’s the dilemma with your boyfriend?”

Rolling your eyes at the mention of your boyfriend, you sigh, “it’s like we’re still together, but we aren’t at the same time. We’ve abandoned the relationship unknowingly.”

Jeno runs a warm hand up and down your thigh, while he listens intently to you. He nods, grabbing your waist to pull you over his groin. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“No, he’s a shitty person and an even shittier boyfriend. We literally haven’t fucked for the past year. I’m practically a virgin again.” His hand automatically gives your thigh a light squeeze.

Jeno’s eyes light up as you quickly cover your mouth out of embarrassment. A devilish smirk raises his cheekbone, and lust clouds his mind. Gauging his reaction, your cheeks turn hot.

“We’ll have to change that, don’t we? My baby must be all kinds of frustrated. Tell me, do you like when I touch you then?” Jeno drops in tempo, usually when he wants to be more intimidating with a deeper voice. 

You clear your throat intending to speak, but you can only nod your head in response. “C’mon, (Y/N). Use your words, like a big girl.” Even with the loud music and continuous chatter, you can hear Jeno‘s taunting whisper. 

His words tickle your collarbone as he runs his lips against your neck. Your heart is pumping rapidly at the turn of events, as if the possibility of having something beyond a kiss from Jeno is more than possible at this rate. 

Jeno enjoys your small whimpers as he marks your neck with purple love bites. Right in the center of the crowded room, Lee Jeno is just casually giving you hickeys.

“Yes, I love that you can’t keep your hands off of me.” 

Almost immediately, you can feel his lips curve into a smile on your skin. Pop! Jeno marvels the darkness against your skin in the mood lighting. A small part of him hopes you do end up seeing your boyfriend sometime soon, so he can see who you really belong to.

“How about we try touching like this?” Jeno pushes you down hard against his pelvis, the veins on his hands becoming evident from the grip and the tiny drawings permanently staining his fingers.

You gasp the moment you feel Jeno’s hip begin to move underneath you to the beat of the song. He rolls your hips rhythmically to match his speed. His clothed hard on can be felt through the only barrier you have on --- your panties.

The thin fabric is soon drenched in your juices after the continuous friction up and down his length. You throw your head back to every bump against your clit, the electrifying feeling enact more of your wetness to puddle. 

You can’t believe you were grinding against Jeno in the middle of a full party, as if his friends aren’t a few feet away. It is a good thing that your skirt pools around both of your waists to conceal the dirty deed underneath.

Jeno’s lip escapes under his top row of teeth as he rubs his clothed length against your barely covered pussy. He can feel his jeans dampening from your wetness and his eyes roll to the back of his head from how the feeling of wanting you consumes his body. He really becomes uncontrollable when it comes to you. 

This is the most sexual activity you have had with another person for over a year. Jeno just looks absolutely heavenly intoxicated with lust, and your mouth waters at how big his cock must be. You can feel his length the harder Jeno rolls against you, and it is definitely bigger than your boyfriend’s. 

You are trying so hard to stay quiet and unnoticeable, but the pleasure seeps out every crevice. Jeno is trained on you as your hand reaches up to cover your mouth, the muffled whimpers escaping your lips uncontrollably.

“I’m so close.” You admit, your body jolting every time his jean button grazes against your sensitive bud.

Jeno moves you over his thigh, forgetting his incredibly hard dick straining in his jeans. As long as you are satisfied, he can care less about his own pleasure. A low scream erupts from your throat when he flexes against you. 

His thigh is much more stable, with more control for consistency. You quickly notice the dark, wet spot on his jeans and you blush even harder. Your underwear clings onto you from the excessive moisture, but Jeno continues to help you finish.

The strands of hair cover your face, but Jeno needs to see your fucked out expression. He is taken aback when you start riding his thigh faster, grinding harder without the aid of his hands.

His mouth hangs slightly open in awe at your neediness, he truly did not know the extent of your sexual frustrations. Oh, but how he is incredibly turned on by you getting off on him. 

“I want you to cum for me, you deserve it.” Jeno brings you in for another passionate kiss. The mixture of his tongue sucking harshly on yours, and the friction on your clit are more than enough to reach your climax. 

Your legs clenched tightly around Jeno’s thigh. The small knot in your stomach that built, drops like the beat playing in the background. The feeling of white is familiar, but it is more intense than when you would touch yourself. You are finally receiving the pleasure from someone else’s touch, someone who wants you to unravel for him.

Jeno pulls away from your lips, kissing down your neck and collarbones as your chest heaves for air. His palm soothes your shaking legs as your climax subsides. You fall into his arms, and he laughs. The reality that you two just did that publicly registers in both of your minds.

Digging your shy face further into Jeno’s shoulder, he whispers lovingly, “let me drive you home.” 

“Are you still drunk?” The muffled question tickles Jeno’s neck.

“I think you beautifully cumming on my thigh sobered me up.” He jokes and you quickly cover his mouth. Your heart practically stops and you hope no one else heard him.

It is silly that you are now self conscious, as if the whole room didn’t just watch you and Jeno grind on the couch. But, the feeling of embarrassment and regret lingers in your stomach. You mentally thank the dark room for concealing both of your identities.

“I’m sorry for your jeans.” A pout begs for forgiveness as you stare at Jeno’s beaming smile. He takes your hand off of his mouth, not forgetting to give your fingertips a lingering kiss.

“I’m sorry for your boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Jeno parts your hair from your neck, admiring the marks he left on you. A small sense of pride builds inside of him, accompanied by a tiny bundle of possessiveness.

“Let me say goodbye to the boys and I’ll take you home.” 

Nodding, Jeno carefully lifts you off of him and onto the cushion. He leans over to kiss your cheek. As he gets up, you see the darker shades on his jeans from your doing. However, Jeno is completely unbothered and continues to find his friends.

Now that you are alone, you feel a bit nervous that someone would come up to you and talk about what they saw. Checking your phone, your screen blinds you with absolutely no notifications from your boyfriend. Going on social media is worse, as you scroll to see that your boyfriend posted a photo.

It is a photo of his hot, red polished car. He obnoxiously posed squatting next to the front wheel, his lips puckered up and kissing the rims. With a caption that makes every regret in your body disappear, “with my one and only.” 

The phone is tossed somewhere else, wishing to delete the image from your memory. Your eyes wander around the room, when they spot a suspicious man sneakily dropping a small pill in an unattended drink. He, then, looks up and catches your stare. Caught red handed. 

But the male smugly smirks, “you’re going to pretend you didn’t see that, like how half of this room pretended to not see you grinding on Jeno.” 

“You’re complete scum, I can’t believe you just roofied someone’s drink.” You yell in utter disbelief at the unwavering man. His disgusting smirk changes into a menacing smile.

He approaches you, his height allowing him to tower above. You gulp, scared at how he can easily overpower you at any second.

“And what are you going to do about it? What? Jeno didn’t loosen you up enough?” His revolting hot breath beating down your nose, invading every corner of your personal space. 

Before you can find any insult to speak back, his figure goes flying sideways and out of your face. It’d be a lie to not admit your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Jeno’s clenched fists and locked jaw. His sharp gaze watches as the stranger gets up from the ground, inflammation already growing on his left cheek.

“Dude, what the fuck!” He shouts angrily, holding his cheekbone as he winces at the pain. Immediately, the conversations are replaced with gasps, and small whispers at the sight. People gather around the living room to see the commotion. Even you are unsure how to react to the sudden fight.

The other man lunges at Jeno with full force, but Jeno stops him by grabbing the man’s collar, “this,” Jeno punches his lip, busting it open, “is for dropping a roofie in someone’s drink.”

The stranger groans at the impact, but still gets up with a fist straight for Jeno’s gut. Watching Jeno take a blow is much more difficult than you had been expecting.

He crouches over from the punch, but quickly regains his composure to put the man in a headlock. A few more gasps erupt and wonder if you should stop him before he does something unnecessarily stupid. 

“This,” the man squirms to try to get out of Jeno’s iron grip, “is for disrespecting my babygirl.” And with a shift snap, the male falls limp and unconscious.

A surprised intake of air and Jeno peers up at your scared expression. He calmly walks over to you, ignoring the swarm of people that had gathered around the scene. He can only see one thing — you. Jeno’s wandering eyes try to read your expression, but all he sees is a terrified girl.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, are you okay, (Y/N)?” 

Blinking blankly for a few moments, you are mortified at the laying body, “what did you do to him?” 

Jeno looks back at the stranger casually, “I put him to sleep for a bit. He’ll wake up in about 20 minutes.”

A rush of reassurance washes over you knowing that he is alive and Jeno didn’t just kill someone in front of you. You exhale all the anxiousness and nerves, 

“thank you for stepping in.”

“I don’t fight without a good reason. You are more than a perfect reason to fight for.” He pinches your cheek cutely, and his tough exterior fades away yet again. 

His famous eye smile that warms your insides is back as if the scary, intimidating expression didn’t exist a few seconds ago. Jeno’s good sides only appear with you. Nevertheless, you are happy to know how special you are to see them. 

“Violence is never the answer.” He nods, only taking it for a grain of salt. “Are you okay? It looked like stringbean knocked some wind out of your gut.”

The teddy bear thrusts himself forward into a fit of laughter, his head resting on your lap. His melody lights every dark corner inside of you. “He did get a good punch in there, didn’t he?”

His rumbling laughter stops, and he peers up at you. “I can’t believe you were still worried about a complete asshole.” 

Scoffing, you break the shared gaze. “I’m a compassionate human being.” Jeno stands up, extending his hand for you to take.

“I know, you’re the best kind of person.” He genuinely means it with the way his tone remains quite stern, eye contact unwavering. He is revealing more of his intimate parts, and in return, you wish for him to see your’s. 

Silence drowns out all the commotion between you two. Jeno grows shy at the way the galaxies reflect in your stare. “I--” Never once, did you think you would witness Lee Jeno stammer over his words. “I-I, let’s-- I want to take you for a drive.” 

To Jeno, a drive to him is equivalent to your hand in marriage. Even his own girlfriend has never been on a drive with him. It is a big part of his personality, given that he is a crucial member of the Ridin’ Club. However, out of all of them, he is the last one to flaunt his hobby. It is special, almost sacred to his entire being. 

“Me?” It is the dumbest question to ask, but you really want to clarify his intentions. Before this night, you two were barely considered friends. You two never saw each other outside of the late night parties.

But now, Lee Jeno wants to take you on a drive. It makes you wonder if the desire of companionship is mutual, that he too pines to further your relationship.

“I’m not looking at anyone else,” Jeno still waiting for your hand and holding an intense eye contact. His heart lays exposed for you, just right on his sleeve. An innocence paints his usual intimidating aura, “let me show my special girl, what is special to me.” 

He must possess some magic because he knows every way to make you swoon. And like that, your palm meets his and he locks his fingers between yours. 

The moment you enter Jeno’s striking, eye catching car, you automatically relax into the leather seats. His pristine car matches his personality --- simple, but captivating. Your boyfriend’s car is the exact opposite, which is why you never enjoy sitting in it.

Jeno has pieces of himself that scatter his car, like an adorable small plushie that watches out the back window. A beaded lanyard dangles from his rear view mirror. It even matches his scent of a deep ocean breeze.

Unlike your boyfriend’s obnoxious details, Jeno did not have a light up stereo that flashed annoyingly to every beat drop in a song. Instead, a sweet lilac color illuminates at your feet, along with his. 

“You like what you see?” Jeno catches you astonish at the tiny aspects of the interior. 

“Of course, it’s yours. It’s exactly like how I would imagine it to be.” Jeno is proud, hearing you praise his car. Even he can admit, it is a bit weird to be so connected to an inanimate object.

Nevertheless, his car, racing, driving became a huge part of his life. And unlike his friends, he feels rather shy and slightly embarrassed for being such a geek. 

But hearing you actually appreciating the small details of his car when you probably hate every aspect of racing due to your boyfriend’s doing, it makes him feel very happy.

Maybe happy is an understatement, more like overjoy at how you freely can recognize the things that make him content. You respect him, and are mindful that as mundane as a car is, you know that it is something important to him.

Silence becomes the majority of the ride out of the quiet, suburban neighborhood. While Jeno’s eyes remain focused on the road ahead, you are concentrated on him.

He drives with one hand on the wheel as he rests his elbow on the middle console. His eyebrow creases here and there. It is the most normal, mundane activity anyone can do --- drive. That is all he is doing, yet the effect it suddenly has on you can not go unnoticed. 

Abruptly, with the rev of the engine and a press on the gas, the car practically flies on the empty freeway. It catches you off guard, causing you to hold onto the grab handle. Jeno peeks over at your shocked figure, and smiles to himself.

“Relax, (Y/N).” He calls your name, reaching over to rub your thigh as a way to calm your anxiousness. Automatically, your hand grips onto his for support and the other one drops from the handle. 

Exhaling, your eyes are trained ahead. The car is moving so fast that you can’t even make out anything around you. Everything becomes nothing, but colorful streaks against a dark background. The gravity against your chest feels crushing.

“How-- How fast are you going?” 

Jeno glances at the speedometer and intertwines your fingers into his own. “I don’t think I should tell you that, you might actually have a heart attack.” 

The window rolls down and you are hit with rumbling wind, “I know you’re scared right now, so stick your head out the window and take a deep breath.”

You look at him in pure fear, “what?! I can’t even move, let alone stick my head out the window!”

Jeno shakes his head, “trust me. Please, trust me.” He needs you to experience the same thrill he does. His own adrenaline is through the roof, out the entire atmosphere of the vehicle. The amount of joy he is experiencing became tenfold now that you are sitting beside him. 

You trust him and very meticulously, go against the wind. Your hair crazily dances along with the rush and your eyes water from being dried out. Adjusting to the pressure, you also stick your hand out the window. It whips backward, but you feel the wind slip between your fingers.

The rise in heartbeat and excitement pump through your veins. The beauty in the white streaks that create a runway, it is nothing but you and the open space. There is no other way to explore it, except at a high pace. You understand why Jeno loved it so much. 

Jeno bounces between the road and half of your figure out his window. Your eyes are closed initially, before you barely squint open. Tears fly by with strands of your hair, but you start to move your hand to physically feel the thrill pass between your fingers.

Then he sees it in the side mirror: the sweet curve in your lips he loves the most and the wideness of life in your eyes. It only makes him press the gas harder.

“That was incredible! You should take me riding with you more.” You marvel at him as he starts the route to your place. It is complete playfulness that hints in your tone because you are aware of how sacred these are to him. Nevertheless, a part of you still hopes he agrees to do so.

Jeno nods, “only because I like you,” He pauses, gauging your reaction with his side eye gaze, “a lot.”

Your heart sinks to an unsettling place in your stomach. Jeno could not possibly be serious, however, his tone no longer matches the playfulness of your own. It almost seems like he is telling the truth. But you didn’t want to believe that. 

Your eyes make a full circle before settling at the disappearing sidewalks, “stay in your lane, Jeno.” It is to keep the mood still light, you and Jeno aren’t ones to be serious. 

His hand has been on your thigh for the whole night, whether it be out of habit or comfort. His touch is always welcoming and warm, but suddenly, you feel the small squeeze on your flesh. Turning your attention on his face, you can see how a smirk has grown. 

“But yours seems much more fun.” Immediately, your stomach leaps with somersaults. Your throat gets dry and tight, not anticipating that response. 

“Beside, you can’t act like we both haven’t swerved. It was barely moments ago that you were cum---”

“---No need to further explain.” 

“And I’d proudly do it again.” His voice drops several decibels and his hand slowly snakes it’s way up your thigh. All the while, his eyes still on the road ahead.

You gulp as every heartbeat constricts your throat. Lifting the ends of your skirt higher to expose more, you secretly want Jeno to cause your legs to shake again. “D-Do what again?”

Jeno perks up to the sweetness of curiosity in your tone. He pulls up to a red stoplight, being able to finally look over to your innocent face and needy hands gripping the cute, thin fabric. He stares deeply into your eyes, “make my baby cum.” 

Similarly to the stoplight, you give Jeno the green light to pull your panties to the side. You spread your legs wide as his finger massages your pussy lips. He gets dangerously close to your erect clit, barely skimming over it. 

A needy, yet delicate moan escapes your lips and Jeno’s jaw tightens. He’s more upset that he’s missing the view of your legs spread, open mouth in ecstasy, half lid eyes all in the passenger seat of his car. He hopes for another red light, just so he can peek over at your delicious figure.

“Jeno, please touch me.” Your voice is airy and desperate. He hummed in response, completely withdrawing his hand from your core. However, you catch his wrist and bring it to rest on your inner thigh. “Please.” 

The distinct beg in your tone drives him crazy. As he dips his finger into your sudden wetness, a shiver runs up your spine. Right when he applies minimal pressure on your bundle of nerves, you jolt and close your thighs around his hand.

One touch already feels too good to be true, that finally someone, Lee fucking Jeno, is actually touching your nakedness. Peering down, Jeno’s arm is flexing in between your legs. His veins popping ever so slightly and his tattoos paint his smooth skin. 

“Open your legs, babe.” His low devilish chuckle rumbles in your lower abdomen. “Let me give you the lovin’ you’ve been deprived of.” 

You shudder at his cadence and slowly pry open your legs. Jeno stops at a red light and gets to see your reaction as he rubs you in a fast rhythmic pace. A soft cry yelps from your throat and you have to grip the handle to keep yourself from spazzing out any further. 

Almost like a trance, he doesn’t notice that the light turns green. He’s locked into the sight of your contorting body. Your hips have a mind of its own, yet again, as Jeno feels you rolling deeper into his touch.

“Poor baby, you’re so touch starved that you can’t control yourself.” 

“It feels better when you do it.” You whine, your lip being bruised from your biting. But your eyes notice the green illumination and you blink over at Jeno.

He is practically drooling at the sight of you, his eyes are trained at your needy hips and dripping wet core that soaks his fingers. You stop every urge to steal more kisses from him.

Jeno briefly recovers from the trance and steps on the gas. He takes this opportunity to ease a finger into the core, causing you to exclaim and squeeze around his digit. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.” 

“More, Jeno.” The way his name rolls off of your tongue makes his heart flutter and his dick to raise in his jeans. Without much hesitation, he slowly slips in another finger and you moan at the stretch. Pumping and curling, he ensures that you are enjoying every action.

His fingers curl against your plushy flesh and your legs spread wider for him to go deeper. You’re a moaning mess when he curls up to your sweet spot, rubbing his fingertips quickly. The familiar queasy feeling builds in your lower regions, and Jeno becomes merciless with his fingers.

He guides them in and out of you, feeling your tightness release and invite him back in. The sloppy wet noises fill the car and drown out the engine. Your half lidded eyes bounce at Jeno’s unbothered figure and the entire scene seems absolutely unbelievable to you.

One hand on the wheel. The other knuckles deep in your pussy. Eyes focus on the road ahead. A comfortable man spread. His hair is messy from the long night.

It is all too unbelievable, that Jeno’s already giving you a second climax of the night when you could barely get one in a year before. And he loves touching you as much as he loves driving. 

However, the guilty raises as fast as the ball of tension in your gut. You two pull up in front of your apartment building, while Jeno’s tugging his fingers against your flesh aggressively. In a split second, you hold onto his wrist to stop him. 

He shifts into park when the car settles into a spot and peers over to you. A curious expression daunts onto him, rather concern that he might have been too much. “I’m starting to feel guilty.” 

Jeno nods, and retrieves his fingers out of your dripping core. The feeling of emptiness causes all the built up pressure to dissipate.

“I understand,” he begins, but pauses at the sight of your sticky juices glistening on his fingers. Your eyes widen as he licks them clean, a soft moan escaping from the back of his throat. 

The small action spikes your heart rate and you rub your legs together. With a pop! Jeno hums delightfully, “baby, you taste so good. I’m a little sad I won’t be tasting more, especially directly from the source.” His lustful eyes glance down at your thighs and back to your profile. 

“I’ll walk you up to your apartment.” He says way too casually, unbuckling his seat belt. A mixture of emotions are running through your head. There is guilt, but lust is too powerful to ignore, especially when it’s Lee Jeno. The damage is already done, right? It’s not like it wasn’t moments ago that you humped him in the middle of a party. 

“Wait,” your hands find themselves gripping onto his leather jacket tightly. Jeno gently reaches over to release your strong grip and replaces the leather with his hand. 

“Yes, babygirl?” Jeno’s round, friendly eyes meet yours. The lust clouded darkness is no longer there. His hand feels hot and somewhat rough. 

“I’m going to break up with my boyfriend, so promise me, you’re not going to dip out of my life afterwards… I don’t need you to be anything more than a friend. I just can’t lose you too.”

He turns around in his seat to face you comfortably. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I can’t stay away from you, let alone have the ability to leave you.” He reassures you with a soothing and calm tone. His thumb draws circles around your knuckles. “I’m always going to be your friend, whether or not I know how you taste.” 

“Do you still want to try it … you know, from the source?” You shyly ask, an innocence embodying your gaze and voice cadence.

Jeno raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “I’d love to, only if you let me.” 

Instantly, you shift to get on your lower back. Jeno watches as you excitedly position yourself open for him and actually finds your eagerness quite adorable. Your left leg bends behind the driver’s seat and your right rests on the dashboard. 

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs to pull you forward towards him and your whole body slides against the leather. With a slow lift, your skirt reveals your drenched panties. Rolling them off and tossing them to the back seat, he lays eyes on your still dripping pussy. Jeno takes a second to admire your flower, this being his first time he’s seen such a private part of you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” He chuckles deeply, before his tongue licks a long strip up to your clit. You exclaim out of the tingling pleasure that seized your insides.

He flattens his tongue against your bundle of nerves, flicking and circling. His finger enters your pussy again, curling up to rub at the same pace he is licking. The pure sight of Jeno’s head in between your legs is enough for butterflies to explode. 

His sole motive is to make you feel good. There is nothing else in the world that he wants at this moment beside pleasure to overtake your body. Jeno eats you out like he hasn’t had a meal in months. His mouth wraps around your clit. The mixture of his flicks and sucks cause electric bolts to run down your legs. 

You get more wet as Jeno pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your juices are practically dripping onto the interior of the car, but Jeno doesn’t care.

He fucking loves it. He loves the taste of you lingering on his tongue. Your breathless moans. Your waterfall dripping on uncontrollably. The view of you unwinding because of him. Nothing can be more perfect. 

Running your hands through his messy locks, you press him closer into you. A devilish smile draws on his face as he flicks his tongue side to side. “Oh, fuck! I’m.. so c--close.” 

Your back arches upward into Jeno’s mouth, feeling his muscle lick harder and faster on your throbbing clit. He adds a second finger, and the simultaneous stimulation practically throws you into another dimension. The pleasure overtakes your entire lower half, your legs trembling from pure ecstasy as you approach your orgasm.

“Don’t stop, I’m going to---” Then, Jeno pulls away and shoves his tongue into your warmth. A gasp hits the air as he also continues to rub circles on your sensitive nerves. His tongue fucked your pussy incredibly skillfully and deliciously. With this switch, your legs violently shake and try clamping together.

However, his strength holds you wide and open for display. A low grunt follows suit as his dark eyes zone in on your contoured facial expressions. Then, the white light blind you once again and the ball of tension unravels itself on Jeno’s tongue. Squirming and screaming, your hips buck forward on their own. 

It is close to being too catastrophic, this being the most intense orgasm you’ve had after a whole year. Nevertheless, the satisfaction is right on the tips of your toes and you greedily indulge in the euphoric moment. Jeno feels your walls squeeze around his muscle as he laps every last bit of you up.

He is absolutely addicted to your juices, making sure he catches every drop. Finally pulling away, he wipes the extra drip on the back of his hand. Jeno blinks at your raising chest and limp legs. Chuckling, his warm hand massages feeling back into your body.

“Do you want me to carry you back up?” His hoarse, raspy voice wakes you from your post orgasm daydream. You flutter your lashes at him fondly and happily nod at his offer. 

Getting out of the car, Jeno walks over to the passenger side and your arms rest nicely around his neck. His palms support your butt, but also smoothing your skirt over to cover your decency. A poke against your outer thigh makes you realize that Jeno is strained against his jeans.

“I can take care of you too.” You pout cutely at Jeno, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not about me tonight. It’s about you.” Leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, his eyes turn into moon crescents from his lovable smile. The kind, friendliness makes an appearance again.

Or so you think! In a sheer second, Jeno’s deep voice rumbles your stomach and his hooded eyes pierce your soul, “next time though, I’m fucking you real good, babe.” 

You hum in response. Saliva collects in your mouth, already looking forward to more of Jeno. But a chilly draft brushes up your exposed area as Jeno carries you up the flight of stairs.

“Wait, Jeno… I don’t have my underwear on.” The ‘Level 3’ sign is in view as Jeno turns to walk. 

He only laughs and shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s better that way anyways.” Without another word, he continues upward to your floor and you playfully punch his solid chest. In all honesty, that’s not going to be the only time you leave behind your panties in his beloved car. 

Your hatred for the notorious Ridin’ Club subside after such a wild night. If anything, you owe it all to your shitty ex-boyfriend for joining such a ridiculous club. Without him and the club’s existence, who knows if Lee Jeno would’ve still swerve into your lane. 

[there-must-be-a-lock]

All That I Ask

Sam x Reader

Word Count: 6990

Warnings: Smut. Smut, feels, and Sam Winchester being wonderful. There’s a brief moment of post-traumatic dissociation, but the traumatic event itself isn’t discussed or really even named. Otherwise, it’s about as gooey and sweet as a fuckin marshmallow. This is like... fix-it fic for life-canon. 

A/N: Whether it was rape or coercion or just a partner who didn’t care enough to make you feel comfortable, I think almost every woman knows what it’s like to feel powerless or unsafe during sex. This is about agency and trust and hang-ups and recovery, and how partners should handle those things.  

This was inspired by a request from @the-departed-patato. Thank you for trusting me with this one. I didn’t realize until I started typing that this was something I really really needed to write.

Also, major thanks to the Slack squad for edits and support and trying to curb my comma habit: @rockhoochie, @icemankazansky, @fangirlxwritesx67, @stunudo​ y’all are amazing.

Here’s my heart, don’t break it.  It’s all that I ask, nothing more.  - “Moonlight,” Future Islands

1.

This is so stupid. 

This is Sam. This is sweet, kind, gentle Sam, and I’m head over heels for him. 

I want him. How could I not? I’ve wanted to do this since I met him, and now I can. He tugs his shirt over his head, and I can run my hand up his side, down his chest, tracing the ripply contours of abs, and god dammit, I want him. 

He rolls me onto my back, hips slotting in against me. I can feel the drag and catch of denim, I can feel where he’s hard against the crease of my thigh, and I can feel his weight on me, holding me, pressing into me, trapping me, and I can feel myself start to shut down. 

This is so stupid. 

I remind myself that I’m safe. He’s being gentle, I tell myself. He’s not holding my wrists, he’s not pinning me, he’s not doing anything that should make me feel unsafe. 

I’m still shutting down. I stare at a point somewhere over his shoulder as he kisses my neck, and I remind myself that I’m being stupid, and I can’t fucking breathe. 

“Hey,” he whispers, and then he’s looking down at me, rolling onto his side again, and I try to focus on him but part of me is seeing someone else. 

“Sorry,” I whisper, voice small and tight around the lump in my throat. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, so fucking sweet with his sunflower eyes wide and concerned. I shake my head. 

“No, it’s stupid,” I squeak. “I’m being stupid. I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, you didn’t — we can — I’m fine.” 

“Do you need space, or — how can I help?” 

“Don’t go,” I breathe. “Please don’t, I’m okay, just come… come here?”  

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, putting an arm around me, kissing my forehead. “Hey, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m right here. Take your time.” 

I burrow into his chest, tears stinging my eyes as I start to break the grip of whatever cold thing has been clutching at my ribcage. 

This is so fucking stupid. 

I remember to breathe, and Sam waits. He strokes my hair, whispers soothing nonsense, cradles me close. 

“I’m sorry,” I choke out eventually. I can’t look him in the eye; I look at his neck instead, the steady flutter of his pulse under the skin. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says, soft but fierce. “Nothing. You hear me?” 

“‘Kay.” I swallow hard and try to shake it off. “We can — it’s not that I don’t want to. Do you want—” 

“Stop,” he interrupts. “There’s no rush, okay? If you’re doing this because you think you should… for my sake? That’s not how it works.” 

He curls a gentle finger under my chin, tilting my head back until I meet his eyes, and I feel hot all over at the tenderness in his expression. I blink away tears and give him a tiny nod. 

“This is about the guy you told me about?” he asks, tentative. “Was it… it was more than you made it out to be, wasn’t it?” 

I nod again. I don’t trust myself to make words. My heart is racing, and I can feel the panicked beat of it in my throat, choking me. 

“We need to talk about this, at some point. Okay? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know what not to do. I don’t ever want to scare you.” 

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling raw and exposed and so goddamn crazy about him. 

“We don’t have to do that now, though. Just rest. You’re safe with me.” 

2.

 “Good morning, gorgeous,” Sam whispers when I stir. He’s spooned up behind me, one big solid arm around my waist, and I settle myself more comfortably in the cocoon of his embrace. Then I remember. 

“About last night—” I start hesitantly. 

“If you’re going to try to apologize again, stop right there,” he says, and I can hear the wry smile in his voice. “But if you want to talk about it…” 

We didn’t close the curtains, and the morning sun is filtering through the blinds of the motel room, making everything feel clean and bright and fresh. It’s easier like this, too, with my back to Sam. I don’t have to feel his eyes on me. 

“There hasn’t been anyone else, since,” I admit. My voice sounds very small in the quiet of the room. “So… I don’t really know what causes it. Not for sure.”  

Sam exhales slowly, his breath tickling the curve of my neck. “What happened last night, to set it off?” 

“Having you on top of me, I think. It’s not — you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Neither did you. That’s all on him,” Sam says. The faintest hint of a growl in his voice takes me by surprise. “No blame, okay? I’m not going to take it personally. Not ever.” 

“Okay. Um. Feeling… held down, or trapped. And you shouldn’t — don’t grab my wrists?” 

“I can do that. What else?” 

“I think… just, not too rough?” I ask, cheeks burning. “I don’t think I could handle… too much. The first time, at least.” 

“Okay,” he agrees calmly. “And what else? What does work for you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“This isn’t about, like, just making it manageable for you,” he says, low and earnest, kissing the curve of my neck. “I want to make you feel good.” 

“Oh,” I say breathlessly. “Oh. Um.” 

I’m suddenly very conscious of his hand splayed over my lower abdomen, his palm warm through the thin cotton of my tank top.  He must feel the way my belly tightens, because he slides his hand a little lower, thumb tucking under the hem and stroking back and forth, tickling deliciously. 

It’s such a light touch, a barely-there brush, but it’s sending sparks down my spine. I wriggle back against Sam, wondering if the sudden crackle of tension in the air is just my imagination. 

“I want to know what gets you off.” Sam’s voice is husky and heated, and my breath hitches. It’s not just my imagination, then. “I want to make you come. It’s not just about… penetration, or whatever.” He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and I wonder if that’s the first time someone has made the word penetration sound sexy. “Do you want me to touch you? Do you want my mouth?” 

I shift, and I can feel him getting hard through his pajama pants. 

“Yeah,” I whisper.  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I want that. Sam… want you.” 

His hand slides lower, until the tips of his pinky and ring finger are dipping under the elastic of my shorts. 

“When you touch yourself,” he says quietly. “What do you do? Can you show me?” 

“I don’t—”

His hand finds mine where it’s curled loosely on the mattress, slides under it so that my palm rests on the back of his, and he laces our fingers together, bringing our joined hands back to my stomach. 

“Can you show me?” he repeats, and the warmth of his hand is burning through my shirt, pooling in my core, making me want like I haven’t wanted another person in a long time. 

“Oh.” I take a deep breath. 

I guide his hand lower, flush against my skin, under my waistband and down until his fingers cup my cunt. When I press my middle finger down against his, he moves with me, one long finger parting my lips and stroking through silky wet heat. He follows my lead, waiting for me, his knuckle bending when mine does, nudging against my entrance. His finger is so much longer than mine. When I curl it, pressing in, it’s him sliding into me, his fingertip, shallow and easy. 

I exhale slowly, not pushing, and he stays, chest rising against my back as he sucks in a deep breath, waiting for my direction. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?” I ask. 

“Yeah,” he says, low and gravelly. 

“Good.” 

I’m shaky and wet and aching with how much I want him, and I’m not sure where this is going, not sure I’m ready for more than his fingers, but I need him to understand: none of this, none of my hesitation, is because I don’t want him. 

I draw his hand up, showing him where to stroke with one slick fingertip, circling my clit, and I can feel him trembling too, all down my back, his cock hard where it presses against my ass. This torturous drawn-out intensity, the way he’s waiting for me… it’s almost unbearable, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to move any faster. 

We breathe in sync, both our chests heaving at the same time as the zing of it ripples out through me, and —

Someone bangs on the door. 

“Up and at ‘em!” Dean shouts. “C’mon, let’s hit the road.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, as Sam lets out a low groan. It takes every bit of my willpower to pull away. When I roll to face him, he’s just as wild-eyed as I feel, flushed and panting and gorgeous. 

We’re both paralyzed for a second, staring at each other, until he lets out a long sigh. 

“Later,” he husks, and it sounds like a promise. 

“Later.” 

3.

Later, when we fall into bed, I’m shaking for a completely different reason. 

It wasn’t a bad hunt, in the end. It’s just one moment that keeps replaying in my memories on a sickening loop. There was so much blood, all down the side of his face and neck, and he went still in a way that made my heart stop for a second. 

Apparently ears bleed a lot. 

I felt a little embarrassed when I saw the injury, a barely-there slice through the cartilage, but I couldn’t shake the sight of all that blood. There’s still traces of it on his skin, dried in his hair. My stomach churns whenever I catch a glimpse of rusty red. 

He pulls the comforter up over us, lying on his uninjured side, and I kiss him, deep and starved, my entire body vibrating with the tension of lingering adrenaline, like my skin is sparking up with the reminder that we’re still alive and we should enjoy it while we can. 

I can feel it in his muscles, too, the way he’s holding back, holding himself stiff like he has to restrain himself. He rolls onto his back and takes me with him, arms strong around me, body warm and ready under me. 

I choke on a quiet sob, trying to hold it in.

Sam freezes, big hands cupping my cheeks as he breaks the kiss. He looks at me, eyes deep green-gold in the lamplight. 

“It’s not — it’s not that. You scared me.” 

“I know,” he says. “I know. It’s okay. I’m here.” 

“Want you,” I say fiercely, watching the way his swollen-red lips twitch into a bittersweet smile. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not when you’re already on edge. If your fight or flight system is still all revved up…” 

He’s right, but I hate it. He brushes hair back from my forehead and kisses me again, chaste and quick. 

“Okay,” I whisper, against his mouth. “Just… god, you scared me, Sam.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and I kiss one corner of his mouth, then the other. 

“I need a shower,” he says. 

I frown, feeling childish as I confess, “I don’t want to be alone.” 

“I didn’t mean — come with me,” he suggests. “Shower with me. Not — no sex.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Really?”

“You don’t have to,” he backtracks gently. “If you’re not ready to—” 

“Sam, I’ve wanted to see you naked since I met you,” I say flatly. “Believe me, that is not the problem.” 

He laughs, dimples flashing as he grins up at me. “Then… yeah. Come shower with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight either.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

He only turns on half the bathroom lights, keeping it dim. The harsh fluorescents would be too much. It’s easier to pull my shirt off when I feel like I can still hide in the shadows. 

I try not to stare as he strips down matter-of-factly and steps in, but it’s not easy. It’s not easy to look at myself, either, when I compare my body to Sam’s. I get my clothes off before I can talk myself out of it, tripping clumsily out of my jeans. 

He must see something different than I do when I look at myself, because the way he stares at me when I step into the shower… he looks at me like he never wants to stop looking. 

I’ve never felt like this before, shaky and vulnerable and open but in a good way, because somehow I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling like this. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust Sam. That trust is what stops me from covering myself with my hands, stops me from doubting myself as I step under the spray with him and stand up on my tiptoes for a kiss. 

One kiss turns into more, syrupy-slow, water streaming down our skin as we melt into each other. Sam licks and sucks and nibbles at my mouth until my lips feel puffy and bruised. I adjust, slowly, to the feel of his body against mine, the way my soft curves mold to the muscled planes of his chest, the way his cock twitches against my stomach as he gets hard, and even though I can feel the length of him hot and heavy between us, he doesn’t press for more; he kisses me like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. 

By the time he pulls away, I’m light-headed. He looks down at me with water beading in his spiky eyelashes, and he smiles. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, and somehow, I believe him. 

I don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He grabs his shampoo from the edge of the tub and turns me around, my back to his chest. 

He massages little sudsy circles into my scalp and combs his fingers gently through the tangles. He shields my eyes when it’s time to rinse, tilting my chin back gently into the spray. Nobody’s done this for me since I was a child. It makes me feel innocent and serene and fucking treasured, the way he takes care of me. 

Sex has always felt like the height of intimacy to me. I always feel vulnerable, like that’s the closest I can get to another person, the most exposed. 

Sam’s fingers in my hair feel like a better expression of trust than anything I’ve ever done in bed. Sex has never felt this intimate. I’m not sure anything has ever felt this intimate. 

Everything starts to fade, the leftover adrenaline draining out of me, the outside world ceasing to matter. It’s just Sam and me, completely bare, wrapped in our little steamy cocoon. I feel safe. I feel exhausted, heavy-eyed and heavy-limbed, muscles aching, but I don’t feel pressured and I don’t feel nervous. I just feel safe. 

4.

Maybe it’s the booze talking, but I want to lick Sam’s arms. 

He’s stretched out over the pool table as he lines up his shot, eyes laser-focused, hands curled around the cue. He has his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and I can see veins standing out under the skin, corded muscles rippling, bunching and shifting with every twist of his wrist. 

Yeah. I want to lick Sam’s arms. 

Dean spits out a sip of his beer, spluttering out a vehement, “Ew, I don’t want to hear that shit!”  

So apparently I said that out loud. 

Dean stalks away, muttering to himself, and I chirp a quick “Sorry!” to his retreating back. 

He’ll get over it. 

Sam’s done with his game, and he’s walking toward me, grinning in that slow easy way of his as he tucks his hair behind his ears. He’s so fucking gorgeous. I can’t handle not touching him any more. 

“Can we get some air?” I ask breathlessly, and his eyes sparkle with amusement as he lets me tug him outside. 

There are a couple people smoking by the door, so I pull him farther away, down to the end of the building, where a tacky wooden statue of a bear stands between us and the door. It’s close enough to privacy. 

Sam slouches back against the brick, and I stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him, leaning against him and trusting him to keep me upright. He goes with it, opening up for me as I take control of the kiss, his lips pillowy, and I can feel him smile. 

“What was that for?” he asks, when I give him a second to breathe. I nuzzle into the side of his neck and nip at his pulse, and his fingers tighten on my hips. 

“Just want you,” I say bluntly. I kiss him again, a deep filthy kiss that I can feel down to my toes. “I was watching you, and… yeah. Want you. Can we go back to the motel?” 

“You’re drunk,” he says, mock-admonishing, but he’s still smiling. 

“‘M not drunk, you’re drunk,” I mumble sulkily. 

“Yep,” he says, popping the P, and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” I concede. “Tipsy, maybe.” 

“Which is still too drunk,” Sam says gently. 

I let out a tiny frustrated sound as he kisses me again. “Fine.” 

He laughs, shifting his weight, getting one knee between mine, and when I settle closer, I can feel the blunt pressure of his thigh right between my legs. 

“Believe me,” he whispers, between kisses, “I would really, really love to take you back to the motel right now but… it’s not a good idea.” He shifts, and I whine at the friction. “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight. I want us both to be sober for that. When we get there… I want to remember every second of it.” 

“Kinda worried I’m gonna combust before then.” The drag of denim on denim pulls at the seam of my jeans, almost painfully good, and I shiver. 

“Oh,” he says quietly, like he didn’t realize that he was torturing me. He rocks forward experimentally. It feels like fireworks. 

“Don’t oh me,” I grump, except it comes out more breathless than grumpy. 

“It’ll be worth the wait,” he whispers. “Don’t want to rush it. Want to take my time with you. I want to watch you come for me, want to taste it —” 

I whimper, rolling my hips helplessly, clinging to Sam so tight that my fingers must be bruising his biceps. 

“Do you like thinking about that?” he asks, growling low against my ear. “My mouth?” 

“Please,” I bite out. “Fuck, Sam, I need — something. Anything.” I tilt my hips down again, trying to make my point. 

He hesitates for a split second before rocking up to meet me, and I let out a ragged sigh. 

“I won’t — not tonight, not more than this,” he says hoarsely, stumbling over the words. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he asks intently, “Are you sure this is okay right now? If you really want —”

“Please,” I say again. I meet his eyes, embarrassed by how much I want him but steady in spite of it. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol making me feel like this, loose and relaxed and reckless, or maybe it’s just Sam, the way he’s letting me take the lead, the way he groans when I shudder against him, the way I trust him with my life and trust him enough to let him see me fall apart like this. 

And I am falling apart. I work my hips in little circles, feeling the dull burn of it clench in my gut with every tiny movement, pushing myself closer to the edge. 

Sam just lets me, chest heaving, murmuring filthy-sweet things in my ear: “I’m all yours. Anything. Don’t care how long I have to wait, just — want to make you feel good. Want you on top of me, want you to just — ride my mouth, rub yourself all over my tongue, want —” 

I let out a tiny, bitten-off whimper, hiding my face against his shoulder. My muscles spasm as I come, jerking against him, feeling it thud through me all at once like a punch to the gut. 

I’m almost surprised by it, and by the wave of relief that washes through me. It’s not the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, but it’s the easiest by far. I never realized I could get off like that. 

Then again, any experience I’ve ever had with dry-humping was with the guy on top of me, hipbones bruising my thighs, and… yeah. No thank you. 

“Jesus,” Sam breathes, arms around me, supporting my weight as I collect myself.

“That was… unexpected,” I blurt out, and I giggle helplessly as I pull back to look at him. He grins back, and there’s something so dazed and beautiful in his expression that I lose my breath all over again. 

“I —” Sam starts, but he catches himself, shutting his mouth abruptly.

I’m falling in love with you, I think, heart pounding, but I know I can’t say it now, can’t say it like this. 

Sam and I look at each other in silence for a second, and then the moment passes. I flush, self-conscious, an apology on the tip of my tongue. 

“Don’t apologize, that was one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to me,” Sam says preemptively, before I can form the words. “You should go inside, before Dean comes looking for us. Just… give me a second?” He adjusts himself in his jeans, making a face, and I giggle. 

“See you in there.” 

5.

“That was easy,” Dean comments, as we buckle our seatbelts. “Where to next? Sammy, did you find anything in the paper this morning?” 

“Actually,” Sam says. “I could really use an evening off. Can we grab some food and go back to the motel and just… chill for the night?” 

He and Dean exchange one of those Winchester looks that don’t mean anything to anyone else but the two of them. 

“Sure,” Dean says easily. Sam smiles at me in the rearview, and I think, oh. 

My brain is my worst enemy. By the time we pull into the motel lot, I’m panicking, and I’m not even sure why. 

Sam’s laughing at something Dean just said, bathed in gold late-afternoon light, and he’s incredible, and I should want nothing more than to get him in our room and jump him, but my chest feels tight and I’m convinced that I’ll freeze up, freak out, mess it all up, and he’ll give up, he’s already been so patient — 

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asks. The driver’s side door slams behind Dean, breaking me out of my trance. 

“Fine,” I say, too brightly. “I’m fine.” 

He studies me for a second, head tilted, and I try to smile at him. It doesn’t work. 

“I’m not fine,” I amend, and feel my face crumple. 

“Hang on one sec?” Sam asks, and I take a second to compose myself as he jumps out of the car. He and Dean have a whispered powwow and then Sam returns, key in hand, sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“Come sit up front,” he says easily, without explanation. “Let’s go for a drive.” 

“We can —” I try, but he cuts me off. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like there’s pressure,” he says firmly. “I just want to spend time with you. Let’s just… go for a drive.” 

So that’s what we do. When we leave the strip mall hell that surrounds the motel, Sam gets off the highway and we’re in the woods, driving up a winding mountain road. Sam seems to know where he’s headed; he mutters “Think it’s around here somewhere,” at one point, and then eventually he turns onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. 

He drives slow, easing into the sharp curves. I can breathe again. It’s hard to feel panicky out here, up in the open air, close to the pink-tinted sky. When the trees open up there are views of sprawling valleys, just starting to turn orange and yellow in the first hints of fall. 

There’s a wide pull-off for a scenic overlook, “Rocky Knob,” and Sam parks. The sun is setting behind us and the clouds are lined in deep pink now. 

Sam spreads his coat out on the scratchy grass, right in front of Baby, and we sit next to each other, watching in easy silence as the light fades and dusk falls. 

“Thank you,” I say quietly, tilting my head onto his shoulder. He slips an arm around me and I shift, turning to settle more comfortably against his side. A sliver of moon is just visible on the horizon. 

“You know you don’t —” he starts. His voice sounds choked and strange. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I just like seeing you happy. That’s more important to me than… any of the rest of it.” 

“Thank you,” I repeat, firmly, and he lets out a laugh that’s more of a sigh. 

I twist to kiss him, intending to make it a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, but he turns to meet me, tongue flickering over my lower lip, teeth scraping ever so carefully. One hand finds my cheek, and his fingers are so long that I feel dwarfed by the way they cradle and caress and pull me closer. 

I crawl into his lap, straddling him. He has one hand on the small of my back and the other between my shoulderblades, steadying me. I trace the hard lines of bones under skin, running my fingers along the jut of his jaw and stroking the hinge of it with my thumb, sliding the other hand back to cup the shape of his skull, and for all his size and strength he feels fragile under my fingers. I brush over his pulse and rub the soft hollow behind his ear, and I can feel how fragile this is, this thing between us and the way it makes him shake when he breathes. 

We’re both shaking, I realize, as I rest my forehead against his. The tip of my nose nudges against his. The curve of his lower lip brushes mine, barely, not intentional enough to be a kiss, just… close. 

Not close enough. Never close enough. 

“Sam,” I start, voice wobbling dangerously, but I don’t even know where to begin. His fingers twist in the back of my shirt, fisted in the fabric like he’s afraid to let go. He exhales — inhales — trembles. 

Somehow I never considered that I might not be the only one here who’s scared. 

I kiss him one more time, trying to tell him how I feel even if I can’t say the words yet, and then I pull away to look at him. His eyes catch and reflect the moonlight, glittering in the dark. 

“Let’s go,” I say, and my voice isn’t shaking any more. 

6.

Sam’s nervous. He doesn’t know what to do with himself once the motel room door clicks shut behind us; he turns the desk lamp on and just stands there, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight uncomfortably. 

“We could watch a movie?” he offers. His hesitation makes it easier, somehow, to take the lead; I go up to him and tug at the hem of his shirt as I kiss his jaw. 

“I don’t want to watch a movie,” I say firmly. I slide my hands under his shirt and run my thumbs over the ridges of his hipbones. “Take this off?” 

He strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, smiling, shy and happy. 

We kiss and shed layers and kiss again, stumbling back toward the bed. When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, we’re down to our underwear, and even though I’ve seen Sam naked, now, the sight of him takes me by surprise. It doesn’t seem fair, how beautiful he is. All the bare golden skin throws me off-balance. 

He moves slowly into my space, running his hands up my arms to cup my shoulders, and when he kisses me, my head spins. I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, feeling clumsy and stupid. Sam just folds to his knees in front of me, smiling up at me patiently. 

“Can I?” he asks softly. He runs his hands up my legs and hooks his fingers in the elastic of my panties. When I nod, he tugs, and I lift my hips to let him slide the fabric down until it’s out of the way. 

He moves closer, kneeling between my spread legs. He doesn’t look shy any more. He looks hungry, pupils huge in kaleidoscope blue-gold irises as he watches me through his lashes. 

I nod again, silently giving him permission, and his lips curl into a smile. Sam hooks his hands under my thighs and pulls me forward, until I’m right on the edge of the bed. 

“Give me your hand?” he asks, and when I do, he brings it to his head, tangling my fingers through his silky hair. I lean on my other hand to brace myself and the position opens me up for him even more. “You’re in charge,” he reminds me. 

The first lick is slow, just a smooth wet curl of heat tracing up my center, good in a way that’s easy and sweet even if it’s not the ‘god more now’ kind of pleasure. I run my fingers through Sam’s hair idly, trying to relax. He does it again, dipping down and dragging up, before swirling his tongue over my clit, and the friction coils up and rolls out through my core. The next lush swipe of his tongue has more pressure behind it, and he lingers on my clit, flattening his tongue, massaging. I let out a little sigh, and he hums approvingly. 

“Want you to tell me what feels good, okay?” he asks, mouthing at the crease of my hip. “Or show me. Hold me where you want me.” 

How does he just say those things? 

Sam buries his face between my legs again, not just licking but working me over with his open mouth pressed to my cunt like he’s kissing me. He gets my clit between his lips and sucks gently, and it’s so good that I tug him closer helplessly, giving in to the pleasure before I even have a chance to hold back. 

“Sorry,” I gasp, relaxing my grip when I realize how hard I’m pulling. “Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to —” 

“I like it,” Sam growls, the words vibrating right up against me. Then he’s doing that thing again, slick pulsing pressure, and I give in, twisting my fingers in his hair and tilting my hips up to meet his mouth as my eyes roll back in my head. He moans low in his throat.

Every wave of suction feels more intense. It’s sharp and bright and perfect, building so fast I’m not sure what to do with myself; all I can do is hold on and arch up and shudder. I can feel it pulling up from my fingers, my toes, an inevitable swell of pressure under my skin until the wave of it finally crests and I come with a shout, long and drawn-out, one shock of pleasure after another. 

“Fucking — fuck, Sam,” I whine, my voice coming out embarrassingly high-pitched and cracked. He flicks his tongue over me again and I twitch, jerking away from the raw-nerve feel of it. 

When I drag my eyes open he’s looking up at me, smiling, a dimple just visible as he turns his head to kiss my inner thigh. 

The fuck am I supposed to say to that? 

Apparently I can’t say anything to that. I think my brain has gone permanently offline. 

Sam sort of scoops me up and deposits me farther back on the bed, where I’m not at risk of falling down on my ass, and I grin dazedly as he stands up. His mouth is red and swollen and it looks like sin. 

“Still with me?” he asks, and I nod. “Be right back.”  

I scoot back until I can get under the blanket and sink into the pillows. I hear Sam rummaging in his shower kit, then the water running, but I don’t have the mental capacity to pay attention. My eyes are half-closed by the time he comes back. 

He sets a bottle of lube down on the nightstand and I avert my eyes uncomfortably, taking the glass of water he offers before he slides into bed next to me. 

“Why did that just make you get all shy?” he asks softly, correctly interpreting my expression. I shrug and twist away to set the glass down, but when I turn back to him, he’s still waiting for an answer. 

I cuddle close, tucking my head under his chin, listening to him breathe for a moment. He’s naked, hard against my hip, and I’m almost surprised by the way my body responds to that; my stomach flips, hot and eager, in spite of my racing thoughts. 

“It’s like… all of this,” I say hoarsely. “It just makes me feel like I’m being a pain in the ass. Because it’s supposed to be simpler than this. It means I’m not wet enough, and… I want you, and that should be the only thing that matters, and instead we have to go through this whole process of talking about my issues and… it’s supposed to be easier than this, and it’s my fault.” 

Sam is very still, muscles stiff, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s angry. 

“It’s not ‘supposed to’ be anything other than good for you,” he says sharply. “Look at me for a second.” 

I pull back, taking in the fierce, raw expression on his face. My chest feels tight. 

“Everybody’s different,” Sam says, quiet and intense. “Everybody has shit they like and don’t like, places they like being touched… it’s not an issue, and it’s especially not your issue. You’re not being difficult by telling me how to help you enjoy yourself. I want that. I want to know how to make you feel good. Okay?” 

“Okay,” I whisper. 

“And if I ever meet any of your exes —” he says, jaw clenching, eyes stormy. I let out a nervous little giggle, and his expression melts from thunderous to soft before he continues, “It makes me happy knowing that you feel safe. It’s hot, watching you get off on it… your reaction is what turns me on more than anything.” 

My stomach swoops. I slide closer, running a thumb over the soft swollen curve of his lower lip. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, voice dropping down low. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He rubs his palm over the curve of my hip like he can’t get enough of my bare skin. “When you were pulling my hair and just — the way you were shaking —” 

I cut him off with a kiss, melding my body to his, and he smiles against my mouth before opening up easily, kissing me back with these slow, sultry swipes of his tongue. I can feel him everywhere: bare all down my front, hands roaming like he can’t help himself, close and feverish under the blanket. I push it down, shivering at the cool air on my sweaty skin. 

When I tangle a hand in his hair and tug slightly, Sam makes a gorgeous needy sound, and his cock twitches, hard and thick against my stomach. I push him onto his back and he goes easily, pliant under me, looking up with a flush on his cheeks and a smile on his lips as I straddle him. For a moment I feel paralyzed by the sight of him. The moment stretches and I just stare. 

Sam runs his hands up my hips, sliding one hand up between my breasts before tracing the curve of one with his knuckles, dragging his thumb over my nipple and circling as the skin pebbles under his touch. My shivery sigh of pleasure breaks whatever spell we were under. 

I duck down to kiss him again, and the movement presses the ridge of his cock right between my legs, silky skin hot where it slots up against me. When I roll my hips, we both groan. 

I reach for the lube. His smile goes smirky at the edges. 

“If you say ‘I told you so’ right now, I swear to god —” I blurt out, and we’re both laughing as I touch him, slicking him up messily. 

It’s the laughter that erases the last of my doubts. My nervous giggle bursts like a bubble in my chest, releasing whatever tension I was holding there. I just feel light and giddy and happy as I wipe my hand on the blankets and position myself. 

Then I’m sinking down, opening up around him, and the sudden aching stretch turns my laugh into a breathy moan. Sam is watching me as I work my hips down, taking him in. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

I understand, now, what Sam meant: your reaction is what turns me on. Because if I’d wanted him before, it was nothing compared to how I feel now. He tilts his head back, arching up and exposing his throat, tendons shifting under the skin as he strains under me and gasps out my name, and the clenching wave of need in my belly is blinding. 

Fuck. 

I shift, lean forward, sparking up some new kind of friction deep inside where I’m so full of him, and I’m whimpering as I kiss him gently. 

“Okay?” he asks. I cup a hand to his jaw and he brings his own up to cover it, an oddly tender gesture. 

“So much better than okay,” I tell him. It’s the truth. 

I take it slow. We kiss, mouths clumsy with need, and I take it slow. 

It takes a few minutes to adjust to his size. I rock my hips in tiny little movements, circling, twisting, feeling all the different ways there are to just feel him. Every movement brings some new sort of sensation as he drags against every sweet spot deep inside me. 

I’m barely moving. I know he must want to fuck up into me, thrust, but he holds back, holds himself steady, lets me take what I need while he whispers sweet bits of nonsense against my lips. He tells me I’m beautiful, tells me I feel incredible, tells me I’m safe, and I trust him. 

Then I grind down harder, and something flares up inside me, quivering out from where his cock is pressing deep in my belly. I do it again. The low dull throb of it has me trembling, panting against his mouth as I brace myself to get more, harder, clenching around him desperately. 

Sam slides a hand down between us, flattening his palm over that spot, and I can feel the pressure building right there, but I need more. 

“Sit up for me?” he asks raggedly. “Lean back, it’ll —” 

He grits his teeth and cuts himself off, but I do it without questioning, sitting back on my heels and bracing my hands behind me. I would feel exposed if I wasn’t distracted by how good this feels. I’m barely moving, still, but Sam presses his palm down and tilts his hips up, and it’s like I can feel the molten force of it everywhere, like it’s going to split my skin. 

Sam looks as close to the edge as I feel, eyes glazed, and I can feel him jerking up to meet me. 

“Do it,” I hiss, and when he thrusts up for real, the surge of pressure makes me cry out, loud and shameless like I never am. 

One last urgent grinding roll, one last surge of pressure, and I’m gone. I let my head fall back and let go, trusting Sam to keep me tethered to the earth as everything else goes brilliant white and sends me flying. 

I’m distantly aware of the way he curses and twists up, the way he swells and twitches inside me, but there’s so much sensation that I can’t separate what’s him and what’s me; it’s all just one hot slick rhythmic pulsing rush as we ride it out, together. 

When I start to go shaky and useless, Sam tugs me so that I flop forward onto his chest. I melt against him, face buried in the sweaty crook of his neck, skin thrumming with satisfaction. I kiss whatever bit of him is close to my mouth, and he tastes like salt. 

“So that’s what that’s supposed to feel like,” I mumble. 

“I don’t think it’s ever felt like that, with anyone,” Sam says quietly, like he’s telling me a secret. “But… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, so.” 

I can tell he’s holding his breath. I put my palm on his chest. His heart is pounding, racing in counterpoint to mine, and I want to tell him that he’s safe; he can trust me with this. 

“Me too,” I whisper, and he exhales. 

.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or leave me a message? It means the world. 

Thanks for reading. 

[nationalharryleague]

The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Word count: 2.5K

A/N: Hi everyone! This is 2.5k of absolute tooth rotting fluff that was inspired by the Golden music video and the ultra talented @theharriediaries​!! Thank you to Soph and Lu (@meetmymouth​) for beta reading and giving me some direction when I needed it!! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I would LOVE if you could give me some feedback!! My requests are also open in my ask!! 

***

“The Italians drink a lot over dinner,” Harry told you in an informative tone, an attempt to order yet another very expensive bottle of red. “Wine is very important in Italian culture,” he tipsily explained across the table, dimples prominent from his cheeky smile. “I learned that in my Italian classes.”

“Oh, did you?” you teased back at him, feeling a bit floaty as you finished your third glass, only for Harry to fill it right back up, emptying the bottle on the table. You laughed and shook your head as you watched him make eye contact with the waiter, motioning for him to bring another bottle over.

“Vino, vino, vino,” he hummed under his breath, playing with the empty glass in front of him that was soon filled up again with the deep red liquid that had stained his pouty lips a deep red and his tongue purple. The two of you sat in the front patio of a small restaurant down the block from your hotel, under a giant and bright moon that made his eyes sparkle even more than usual.

He had a boyish flush to his cheeks, which could have been from the wine or the remnants of a scaldingly hot day in Italy; maybe both. You could still feel the summer heat radiating back up from the pavement below you after it had baked in the sun all day. The oppressive heat still hung in the air, just enough for a light sheen of sweat to be covering you both that seemed to make Harry glow on the dimly lit patio.

You two had found yourself in Italy while Harry had some time off because he insisted he needed to go and practice his Italian. “Devo andare per la mia istruzione,” he told you one day after he got home from his class. “I have to go for my education,” he translated a moment later after being met with a blank look from you. He practiced all day every day.  He struck up conversations with locals, spoke with every fan who came to say hi, and attempted to translate menus and order every meal. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but he was trying nonetheless.

Harry in Italy was a special version of himself. He was smiley and carefree and always trying to fatten you up or get you drunk. When he was here, he seemed to wholeheartedly become the H you always knew, abandoning the rockstar and becoming the mushy and emotional man that told you he loved you in every sentence and needed to be touching you at all times. His hair had lightened a tiny bit from your days outdoors,  his skin had grown tan and taken on a golden tone, a side effect of him constantly ignoring when you told him to put on sunscreen.

You drank and ate and talked until the restaurant was closing down around you, a common occurrence when you two had the opportunity to slow down and just be together for a while, trying to forget that there was anything else going on in the world outside this tiny town. If he hadn’t captivated the wait staff with his broken Italian and charming smile earlier in the night, you were sure you would have been met with eyerolls from those cleaning up around you. Eventually, you two walked hand in hand out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk along the windy road, both of you full and drunk, and beginning the short walk back to your hotel.

He was smiling so wide his dimpled cheeks must have been hurting, a bright smile encouraged by the alcohol running through his system. His hair flopped over his forehead, curlier than usual because of the sea air and his lips were an even deeper purple than before. His beautiful mouth babbled, every thought in his head flowing past his lips in a slightly slurred mix of italian and english; a verbal expression of excitement and clumsiness.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight beside you, your fingers lazily interlocked with his, tugging him back when he moved too close to the street, hoping his wobbly legs wouldn’t trip on the uneven cobblestone sidewalk. You primarily didn’t want him to tear or stain his favorite light blue blazer if he took a tumble. He once told you it was his favorite because he thought the color looked like the sky on the day you had met. You remember blushing and pushing him away from you, telling him he was cheesy with a playful eye roll. “It’s my job to be cheesy!” he had defended himself. “Also, I’m not being cheesy, I’m a man in love.”

You were brought back into reality when he stopped in his tracks and pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your torso. “We should dance,” he beamed, eyes wide like it was the greatest idea he had ever thought of.

“There’s no music, H,” you regrettably informed him while pushing his curls away from his forehead. You couldn’t help but lean in and press a light kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm and slightly sweaty on your lips, a salty taste invading your mouth.

“We don’t need music. All the music is up here,” he winked while tapping his temple. “We're listening to classical.”

“Oh I see, music man,” you joked, unable to contain your giggles.

“Shh,” he attempted to quell your laughter, bringing his pointer finger to your lips. “Can’t hear the music.” A sarcastic seriousness played across his face, prompting another grin to sneak onto your lips. You pressed a kiss to his finger, before giving into his demand and falling quiet.

You could never fight the spell he put you under. You lived in a cloud of Harry, an intoxicating daze that made you unable to focus on the bad of the world when he was around. He had seemed to melt down the walls you had built before you had met, a fact that made him endearingly call you his ‘Ice Queen’ every once in a while. The charm and wit he carried with him wiped away your practicality, always knowing how to convince you to play along with his antics and throw your precious caution to the wind. He was your rose colored glasses. He made your heart jump all day long and unexpected bursts of joy were felt in your chest whenever he smiled, laughed, or said your name. You were enamored by him, an all consuming love you couldn’t escape from.

“What are you thinking about, pet?” he asked softly, breaking through your loving haze. “You have your thinking face on.” A light smile continued to play on his lips but it was softer now, taking on a gentle questioning quality.

“Just thinking about how much I love you,” you confessed.

His eyebrows perked up and so did the corners of his mouth into a delightful smirk. “I mean, who doesn’t?” His smart ass comment earned himself a playful slap to his chest, but your attempt to wiggle out of his arms was thwarted when he pulled you even tighter to him. “That’s no way to treat your dance partner, my love.”

“I want a different dance partner,” you taunted, sticking the tip of your tongue out at him.

One of his hands fell from your shoulders to the small of your waist, the other found one of yours and he began to sway with care side to side. “Too bad, we’re already dancing,” he spoke softly into your ear. You two moved in an easy rhythm to a song only Harry could hear, a more caring and tender tone taking over for your previously playful one.

His cheek pressed to your temple and your bodies pressed loosely to each other. If you tried hard enough, you could hear the man’s soft hum of a melody you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Your feet fell carefully, wary of the uneven pavement in your heels, but you reminded yourself even if you were to fall, the arm looped around your waist would be sure to catch you. Small kisses peppered your forehead and you were released from his grasp for only a second for him to twirl you around, the skirt of your dress splaying out around you before being enveloped in him once again.

“I love you, angel,” he murmured softly when you found yourself resting back against his chest. He had abandoned his joking tone, shifting to a gentler and more serious cadence, pouring his soul into every word that left his lips as they brushed against your forehead. “I am so happy that I get to spend my life with you.”

“I love you so much. This is a happier life than I could have ever imagined for myself,” you spoke after a thoughtful pause. You were still swaying calmly, seeming to move in time with the cool breeze settling over the two of you, but Harry’s humming had been abandoned for a reflective silence.

“What kind of house do you want us to live in one day?” he asked abruptly, choosing to move in a seemingly unrelated direction.

“It has to be big; with enough rooms to fill with lots of cats and dogs, and when the time comes, maybe a baby. And I want a big porch to sit on together and watch the world go by on.” You felt him nod thoughtfully and with a hum of agreement.

“Do you want it to be the only house we ever live in? Or do you want to try out different places to find your favorite?”

“I think I want it to be our one house. I want us to be the crazy old people who have lived in the old rickety house at the end of the block forever; the ones who always have stories to tell and grandchildren constantly coming and going.”

“Can we be the ones who brag about never having a fight?”

“Do you mean the ones who lie?” you asked with a chuckle, looking up to face him. He broke out into a high pitched giggle, your favorite laugh of his. It warmed you to your core knowing that you were the only one who could make him laugh like that.

“Exactly,” he nodded in confirmation, still chuckling to himself.

“We can lie and say we’ve never had a fight as long as we never stop getting wine drunk and slow dancing to no music on random streets while on vacation,” you quipped.

“Sounds like a plan, my love.”

“I know we’ve talked about doing it, but when do you want to get married? I don’t want to inconvenience either of our careers with wedding planning or anything like that. I don’t really care as long as we get to spend our lives together.” The words fell freely from your mouth, the wine still running through your veins blocking the inhibition that probably should have kept the words inside your head.

“Getting married to you wouldn’t be an inconvenience, darling.”

“I know. Wrong words,” you chuckled. “Well, I guess I should have asked when you want to get engaged,” you corrected yourself. “I suppose we have to do that first.”

“Why not now?” he asked, with a mischievous twang in his voice. You felt one of his arms slip from around you and start rummaging in his jacket pocket.

“What?”

“I said,” he began again, “why not now?” His hand emerged from his pocket, presenting you with a tiny red velvet ring box.  

Your mind went blank. Your usually rapid and incessant thoughts seemed to stop altogether in a mix of shock and awe. You knew this day, or night, would come eventually. You two had discussed a future together extensively and had agreed you didn’t want to spend your lives with anyone else, but you had never imagined the moment he asked you to be his forever. You had never imagined this moment.

His eyebrows slicked up, lips curled in a devilish smile, and he sank down onto one knee before you. Your hands flew up to your face and the wetness on your fingertips alerted you to the tears that had begun to fall down your cheeks, your heartbeat pounding loud in your ears.

“My dear,” Harry began as he settled onto the sidewalk, balancing carefully on the cobblestone ground. “I have been in love with you since the very first day I met you and that adorable little snort slipped out when you laughed at one of my bad jokes. You have been the first thought I have in the morning and the last thought I have before I fall asleep for longer than you know. You are kind and smart and funny and you light up every room you walk into. I do not want to spend another second of my life without knowing you’ll be by my side for the rest of it. Will you marry me?”

He looked up at you with hopeful eyes and you looked down at him through tearful ones. You began a furious nod, before choking out the only word he wanted to hear. “Yes,” you sobbed, holding out a shaky hand for him to slide the ring onto.

The ring was beautiful; dazzling under the light of the full moon and the dim street lights above you. It slid onto your ring finger with ease, sitting snugly like the ring was made just  for you. It was simple, which Harry knew was your style and it held one (large) diamond in a simple silver setting, no bells or whistles needed.

Harry grabbed you by the waist as soon as the ring was secure and picked you up in his arms and spun, twirling you around like the two of you had just slipped out of a rom-com. Delighted giggles fell from both of your lips before he finally stopped, your laughter pausing when your lips found his.

It was a salty kiss, due to the sheen of sweat still sitting on Harry’s skin and the tears that were still streaming down your own, but it just felt so right. He was warm and smiling, lips still tasting of the pinot noir you had shared. Your lips moved together in a perfect harmony like they were meant for each other.

“Thank god you said yes,” Harry breathed when you finally separated. “I’ve been carrying that ring with me everywhere we go for two months now.”

With a playful eye roll, you pulled the curly man to you and connected your lips once again, unable to get enough of him. His intoxicating cologne filled your nostrils and you had never felt more safe or happy. The love you shared felt like when the sun warms your skin under a golden hour sunset; bright yet soft, spectacular yet easy. And you were ready for it to never end.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS ARE SUPER APPRECIATED!! 

[missmungoe]

Can we get more pirate Makino

Of course! I’m actually writing a thing about exactly that, so here’s a glimpse from the first chapter of a three-part fic I’ve been working on, titled On the Water (alternatively: How to Become a Pirate in Your Thirties).

Follows Long Live, rated M for, well, Shanks. The full story will be up on AO3 when it’s finished, but I hope you enjoy this sneak peek!

-

For her birthday he gave her the horizon, but adapting to life at sea was a work in progress.

The ropes scuffed her palms, gentle hands that had always known hard work, just not this particular kind. She’d have blisters tomorrow, Makino suspected, although hoped that was all she’d have, and not a broken back and fractured skull to boot.

“Need a hand?”

His voice reached down towards her, as a big hand was offered, the broad palm roughened with harder calluses than hers. The metal of his wedding ring caught the sunlight; unlike his fingers, it didn’t bear the evidence of his way of life, but then he hadn’t been wearing it on his hand for very long.

Her own ring was dulled and scratched from wear; the curious symmetry of their lives, at least before her recent about-face in terms of careers, her apron and serving tray exchanged with canvas, rope, and questionable safety measures.

She looked at the hand held out to her, following the sinewy forearm to Shanks, perched on the ratlines above her with an effortlessness she couldn’t decide if made her want to gawk or shriek in frustration. The fact that he could even offer his hand was hard to believe, given that he only had one, but he looked utterly unhindered by the fact, his bare feet steady where he balanced on the ropes, in a way that made it seem like having two hands would have just been overkill.

For her own part, Makino was trying her best not to cling with every appendage she had.

“Are you being cheeky?” she called up, just a little shrilly, gripping the ropes when an impish gust of wind sent the ratlines swaying.

“You tell me,” came the quick reply, her disbelief parried with the flash of a roguish grin. “You’re the one with the view.”

Poised on the ropes directly beneath him, Makino demurely refused to acknowledge the cheeks in question, hugged rather snugly by the fabric of his pants where he leaned his weight against the ropes. Today’s pattern was cheerful palm tree leaves against a bright red backdrop. The fact that it might be the last thing she saw before falling to her death was a sobering thought.

“Eyes aloft, sailor,” Shanks said, a note of command that sent a shiver jumping up her spine, and that had her gaze darting from his rear to his face, and the delighted grin stretched across it. “I know I’m distracting, but try to be professional?”

Had she been a better liar, she might have attempted a glib retort. As it was, the sight of him on the ropes was distracting, a captain in his natural element, his feet bare and his signature cloak discarded; the ruggedness of a man who’d spent his life at sea, all rough stubble and sun-darkened skin swept with dark hair, his half-buttoned shirt straining over his wide shoulders in a way that really ought to be against the law, or at the very least prohibited during certain circumstances, like, say, when she was trying to keep her concentration so she didn’t fall and break every bone in her body.

The toned arm extended towards her, the right sleeve cinched around his bicep, flexing when he caught her eyes darting to it.

Her attempt at an unfazed expression faltered, and his chuckle chased her gaze when she averted it, although her blush was arguably more incriminating, but then it was hard not to be impressed, and she still wasn’t used to seeing him like this.

Curling her toes, she tested her balance. She’d rolled her breeches up past her knees, and her bare feet helped with her grip on the lines. The only thing she’d kept of the clothes she’d brought aboard with her was her loose-sleeved blouse, and even her kerchief had been exchanged for a longer scarf to better hold back her hair; red with white embroideries, he’d gifted it to her shortly after they’d set out from Fuschia, weaved into her long braid now, brushing her spine where it hung between her shoulder blades. She wore no further embellishments, although had wondered how she might look, with gold in her ears and on her fingers, or pearls from the bottom of the sea. Trappings for a different pirate, or at least a bolder one.

She missed her skirts, her silk bodices and embroidered aprons, but this was more practical, and better suited her new chores. Maybe one day she’d be a barmaid again, but for now she was a pirate, and if an enemy showed up, they wouldn’t be asking for a drink.

Shanks offered his hand again, and this time Makino took it, sea-roughened fingers wrapping around her smaller ones tightly, and her breath seized when he lifted her up, and so fast she had to stifle the startled yelp that escaped her, and heard his laughter, a softer thing now as she scrambled to hold on to her new perch on the ratlines beside him.

Her feet curled around the ropes as she tried to reclaim her balance, her breath hitching when the rigging swayed.

She watched as Shanks moved, his leg sliding behind hers as he put himself behind her. A big hand settled over one of hers, gripping it reassuringly.

“Breathe,” came the gentle order, as her back met the sturdy width of his chest, the support allowing her to relax enough to slacken her death grip on the lines, the breath she’d been holding easing out as she did. His feet caged hers, tiny in comparison, his body keeping her secure on the lines. The top of her head was barely level with his sternum; she could feel the warmth of his skin bared by his shirt where it pressed against her back. “Attagirl.”

Shifting his weight, his hips brushed against her backside, and her breath shivered with her laugh, feeling him.

“This is hardly what I’d call professional,” Makino said, even as she yielded some of her weight to him, glad of the support offered by his bigger frame.

“What are you talking about? I’m the essence of professionalism. I just have a very hands-on approach to teaching.” His grin brushed the tender spot on her neck beneath her ear as he rumbled, “This is the first time I hear you complaining about that.”

“I’m not complaining,” Makino said, the shiver in her voice betraying her reaction, but sensing an opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine, added demurely, “I like having you behind me.”

She felt his surprise in the startled grip of his fingers, and could picture his grin from the winded laugh that reached through her back.

“Say things like that and you’ll make me lose my grip.” The way he pressed against her felt retaliatory, her breath hitching at the grind of his hips, and the hardness beneath her rear. “I’m trying to show you the ropes here.” His lips skimmed the back of her neck, the fleeting kiss followed by a rumble, “Although if we move this to our cabin I can show you some different ones.”

Her heart skipped, although not so much for the suggestion as for the casual use of our that had found its way into his vocabulary lately.

Her laugh was soft, and she felt him squeeze her hand. “Such a thorough education you’re giving me.”

“Well, I want you to be prepared,” Shanks said, as a grinning kiss marked the spot above her pulse. “There are some real scoundrels on this sea.”

“Oh, I know.” Her eyes flicked up to catch his, tempered steel in the sunlight. “If I’m not careful, one might steal me away on his ship.”

His look softened, a gentler kind of heat, before he bent to kiss the crown of her head.

But even teasingly said, it touched upon something she hadn’t broached with him yet; an underlying fear that had followed her from East Blue like a shadow in the water, and that was a large part of why she wanted to learn how to sail.

She didn’t want him to regret taking her with him―that there should come a day when her inexperience would cease being endearing, if she became a burden he couldn’t afford to have on his ship.

“Hey,” Shanks said then; the shift in his tone made her blink, before she realised that her thoughts had wandered. “Everything okay?”

Makino nodded, and hoped the slight quaver in her voice helped make her lie convincing. “Just made the mistake of looking down.”

There was a beat where she wondered if he’d seen through her deceit, but then, “As much as I’m enjoying teaching you,” Shanks said, and she was surprised there was no teasing in his voice now, “you know you don’t have to learn this, right? I captain a pretty big crew. We’ve got plenty of hands on deck, and that’s not an amputee quip.”

Murmurs of agreement backed him, from the crew gathered below, all of them having come out on deck to observe. She’d ask them to mind their own business if she’d thought it would work, but recognised a lost battle. They hadn’t minded their own business since the day they’d met.

Although catching the wary looks on their faces, she wondered if the real reason they’d gathered to watch was so they could catch her if she slipped.

Ben was holding the baby, wide-eyed and sucking on his fingers where he watched them both aloft, and she had the sudden thought that he probably wouldn’t forget it if she fell to her death.

It almost made her hesitate, wondering if she really was pushing it, and that her focus was better spent on something a little less hazardous, like charting stars or assisting Marsh in the galley, and not on building a career as a sailor when she was long past the age most swabbies got their first posting. She wasn’t even a proper swabbie, but couldn’t exactly claim a higher rank when she had no skills or credentials to back it up.

But there was a part of her that wouldn’t back down, even against her own misgivings. She couldn’t choose this life, his life, and keep living the way she had. This sea wouldn’t allow it, and she’d be naive if she believed otherwise.

It was never going to be easy, and she was painfully aware that she’d chosen the worst possible time to abandon her law-abiding job to become a pirate. Granted, most fledgling pirates didn’t achieve overnight fame and a back-bending kiss on the cover of the WENP. If she’d hoped for a subtle change of careers, that ship had thoroughly sailed.

But whatever kind of pirate she turned out to be, she didn’t want to be useless. At the very least, she wanted to know her way around his ship.

“It’s not like I’m going to put you on watch duty,” Shanks said, when a lull had passed where she hadn’t spoken. “That’s why we have Fen, although between you and me, if Whiskey could sound the alarm, he’d be out of a job.”

“No offence, Boss, but that cat was shat out of satan’s arsehole,” spoke the freckled young man seated on the yard above them, with the ease of someone who spent a lot of time aloft, and who didn’t have thirty-two years of deeply burrowed roots holding him back. “But yeah, you’re probably right.”

“If our ship’s cat can do it, then I should be able to,” Makino retorted pertly, although didn’t say that she’d rather not spend a whole night in the crow’s nest by herself. Not that Shanks would ask her, and if he did, he’d have something rather different in mind than keeping watch, but even that would be moot if she couldn’t get up there by herself.

If they hadn’t had an audience, she might have told him. Instead what she said was, “I can’t be a pirate without any sailing skills, Shanks.”

“Hey, there are plenty of pirates who have no sailing skills,” Shanks countered. “Don’t underestimate how much you can get away with by riding someone’s coattails. It’s done wonders for Buggy’s career.”

“At this rate, he’ll be an Emperor soon,” Fen said.

“Who will?” Yasopp asked, appearing on the yard beside Fen, causing Makino to start, and she was glad to have Shanks behind her, as she didn’t lose her grip. She hadn’t even seen him climb up, but, “Hey, Ma-chan,” he chirped, swinging his legs over the yard as he took a seat. “How’s it hanging?”

“Oh, just swimmingly,” Makino sighed, and tried not to squirm, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on her. Unlike Shanks, she’d never loved the spotlight, particularly when doing something she wasn’t good at, and it was a little intimidating to have a whole crew of experienced pirates observing her stumbling attempts into learning their craft.

For all its delight, Yasopp’s grin was understanding, and her gratitude was silent when that sharp-eyed gaze left her to look at Fen, his arms crossed over his chest in a casual repose as he repeated his earlier question, “So who’ll be an Emperor soon?”

“Buggy,” Fen said.

Yasopp snorted, but after a beat, conceded, “You know, I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s got a way of falling upwards.” Then with a grin, “Roster’s getting pretty packed now, though, with Luffy and this one,” he said, nodding to Makino. “You’ll have to watch out for challengers now that you’ve announced yourself, Ma-chan. It’s eat or be eaten on this sea.”

“Don’t,” Makino said primly, before Shanks could open his mouth, and she couldn’t see his grin but she could imagine it well enough. Then to Yasopp, “And please don’t include me in this power-grabbing contest.”

“I hate to break it to you, my heart, but it’s a little late for that,” Shanks said.

“You did give an interview,” Yasopp pointed out.

“The photograph was also hard to misinterpret,” Fen agreed.

“I don’t mind what they call me,” Makino said, and already knew what it was, the endearment that had been given to her by the man she’d married long before she’d asked him to take her with him, but Empress was symbolic, not declarative, and the title itself wasn’t the issue. “It’s about what they expect. I’m not going to challenge anyone, I just want to be a normal pirate. No politics, just plain and simple swashbuckling. Whatever happened to parrots and peg legs?”

“Do you want a parrot?” Shanks asked.

“What I want is for my merits to speak for themselves,” she said, gently firm as she tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Small and unimportant as they might be.”

His look held a thought he didn’t share, but before he could say anything, “So I’m not riding your coattails,” she told him, and was quick to add, “And don’t,”―he pinched his lips shut, although the boyish grin stayed―“make that into something lewd. It’s too easy, even for you.”

“She’s got a point, Cap,” Yasopp said. Fen made a noise of agreement.

“I feel like you’re all underestimating my creativity, but whatever,” Shanks said. “Also, ‘even for you’, wife? The level of disrespect. You’re on my ship now, and last I checked, I was still the captain.”

Doubtful murmurs from the deck below, which he answered by sticking his tongue out.

Her smile was sweetly mutinous. “Let me rephrase, then: I’m not riding your coattails, Captain.”

She knew from his grin that she was going to be paying for that later, but, “Have I told you that I find your premature midlife crisis adorable?” Shanks said instead. “Most people just change their hair. Or buy a really big boat.”

“Or marry a younger woman,” Ben supplied from around his toothpick. The baby on his arm was falling asleep, his head tucked under his chin.

Shanks turned his head to call down, “Et tu, you ass?”

Laughing agreement from the rest of their crew set off a debate of who’d had the biggest midlife crisis to date―a tie between Yasopp’s dreads and their captain’s choice of wife, who demurely elected to have no opinion on the matter―and Makino felt the momentary reprieve of their attentions, Shanks’ in particular, who for all his easygoing attitude had been watching her closely since they’d begun climbing the rigging.

It wasn’t that he minded her learning, but she wondered sometimes if he’d expected her to take the safer route, or at least one that didn’t include the risk of breaking her neck. His desire to protect her was endearing, if a little hypocritical from a man who was entirely too casual about danger. Their departure from East Blue was only the most recent example.

It had been a few weeks since her birthday, when she’d left the only home she’d ever known, chased from her safe shores by a fleet of navy warships. That last part had thankfully not needed repeating, but then the navy didn’t have the same foothold on this sea, or the presence to enforce their authority, in her husband’s territory.

Hers now, too, or at least symbolically, although even then it was a lot to accept for someone whose only claim before this had been to a little bar on the seaside. She still hadn’t fully grasped the finer points of the New World’s politics, aside from the precarious balance of powers that always felt one nudge away from toppling, and even saying that she wanted no part in it, she wondered sometimes if she would even have a choice.

Warm fingers squeezed hers. “Ready?” Shanks asked, and with a fortifying breath, Makino nodded.

She felt him shift his weight, yielding room for her as she made to climb further up the ratlines, and following close behind her until they reached the footrope beneath the course yard, where the bottom sails were stowed.

Reaching past her, she watched him swing himself up onto the yard, nimble in a way that never ceased to amaze her. She’d used to observe him working aloft, that first year they’d been docked in Fuschia, but watching him still stole her breath, his amputation no more a hindrance than the wind, and sure-footed in a way that made her wonder if he’d ever feared anything.

She wished for a bit of that confidence now, as she focused on making it look like she wasn’t clinging to the ratlines now that he was no longer behind her.

Her gaze fleeted down to the deck. She’d never been particularly afraid of heights, but then she’d made a point of keeping her feet planted firmly on the ground. The only other occasions she’d stepped out of her comfort zone had been at his direction, except this was a bit higher up than atop a table.

Shanks extended his hand to her, and this time she was prepared when he pulled her up, her weight not even a minor burden as he lifted her onto the course yard in a single, fluid movement.

His hand cupped her elbow, steadying her as she found her footing. It was the lowest yard on the mast, but the distance to the deck still felt considerable.

The sea spray was gentle against her cheeks, touched pink by the sun that had darkened her freckles, the weeks they’d been at sea. The salt wind kept trying to stubbornly coax her hair out of her scarf, a few rogue strands freed to brush her cheekbones.

Looking up at Shanks found him watching her, so tall she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes, a thought behind them she wasn’t privy to, but at her questioning look he just said, “It suits you.”

Bemusement wrinkled her brow as she laughed, winded from the climb, “What, sweat and your old capris?”

The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened, a fey smile that made her wonder if she’d guessed correctly, before his hand lifted to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing the arch of her cheekbone before tucking an errant lock of salt-swept hair back into her scarf, as Shanks said simply, “The sea.”

Her grin wavered, and she had no comeback to that, but he only curled his fingers under hers, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles, before gesturing to the mast. “After you.”

He let her grip his hand until she’d found a foothold, and kept one step behind her as she climbed the ratlines towards the top of the mast, until they’d reached the topgallant yard, and balancing on the footrope, he waited until she’d hoisted herself up before climbing up beside her.

The sea spooled out beneath them, the blue silk sky above the horizon the most perfect she’d ever seen. This high up, the wind sang louder between the masts, laughing where it tugged and teased the rigging, the shrouds stretched taut and the ratlines creaking as the ship swayed.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Makino eased her legs down on either side of the wooden yard. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing the world from this perspective, and couldn’t say if the thrill she felt leaned more towards fear or excitement. 60/40, probably.

She looked down.

…or maybe 70/30.

Searching for a distraction, she lifted her eyes to Shanks, his long legs draped astride the yard, like he might sit on one of the benches in the galley. “How does it feel?”

Breathing in deeply, “Like I want to throw up,” Makino said, and saw his grin where it split his face.

Her smile softened, and keeping her eyes on him, she said, “And like I never want to go back down.”

His grin held understanding, and a feeling that made her heart ache, it was so fierce, and that wasn’t the view’s doing, although it was an undeniably spectacular sight, the sea and the sky ever-bending, the world stretched as far as it would go from horizon to horizon; an otherworldliness about this ocean that was humbling, faced with her own mortality against those terrifying powers, which had nothing to do with the pirates who sailed it.

Before coming to the New World, she hadn’t known what to expect. Between Shanks’ camping stories and the navy’s propaganda, all she’d known was that it wouldn’t be anything like East Blue, which meant she couldn’t keep being the same person she’d been. Not if she wanted to be in an Emperor’s crew, even just as his wife. There was no room for the ordinary in this realm, where only the extraordinary survived.

Lowering her gaze, she braved a glance at the deck far below. Hopefully she wouldn’t fall and break her neck. Given the countless ways to die on this sea, it seemed a somewhat anticlimactic way to go.

Lifting her eyes to Shanks found him considering her, outlined by the sun behind him, his eyes hooded under his scars, a curiously vulnerable look in them now, as though he couldn’t quite make himself believe she was really there.

She wondered if that look would fade, if he ever came to regret bringing her with him.

The intrusive thought slipped past her defences, before she blinked it away.

“So, my barmaid,” Shanks said, the tender note in his voice rendering it too sincere for teasing. “How are you finding the pirate’s life so far?”

She hoped her smile didn’t betray her earlier thoughts. “It’s actually been pretty uneventful,” Makino said, with a lightness that attempted to conceal the slight shiver in her voice. “I’m almost beginning to wonder if you really were exaggerating about all your dangerous escapades. I’ve seen no bears, either.”

His smile indulged her teasing, but his silence was telling.

She wondered what he was shielding her from, and if she even wanted to know. But even if she couldn’t hide from it forever, she was grateful for the uneventfulness of their voyage thus far. It wasn’t the same as Fuschia, with its gentle monotony, and where change had always been welcome. On this sea, change could easily be synonymous with war.

Her stomach twisted at the reminder, but looking out over the sea found it calm, although she did wonder what would happen the day it inevitably caught up with them. Shanks had enemies, and one in particular had featured in her nightmares since long before she’d asked to come with him.

Blinking her eyes, she dispelled the thought of Blackbeard, anchoring her focus in the present, and Shanks on the yard beside her, in his shirtsleeves and with his pants rolled up past his knees, the deceptive trappings of a simple sailor, and not the pirate lord the world knew. The wind had dragged its fingers through his hair, and his scars looked gentler under the look of contentment on his face, his staggering features eased with a smile, and the note of tension that was usually there gone from his brow.

Looking at him, it was almost easy to forget the authority he held on this sea; the kind of power he commanded, and the territories under his flag. To believe for a few seconds that she might be a simple sea captain’s wife, and nothing more.

But lifting her eyes to the top of the mast, and the jolly roger dancing on the breeze, there was no denying what he was, and what she was now, and had been since the day she’d married him. That the pirate who’d stolen her away from her quiet shores was not the same who’d first dropped anchor in her port twelve years ago; the one she knew as her husband.

She didn’t know him like that―as Emperor. She wondered idly if that was what he was shielding her from, more than anything else.

“You know,” Shanks said then, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re handling this a lot better than most do, their first time aloft. Buggy only made it halfway up―I bet him that I could climb higher, so of course he had to prove me wrong. You should have seen him. Captain had to climb up to get him down.”

“What about you?” Makino asked, smiling. She could picture it easily, for all that she’d never actually met Buggy.

His grin belonged to the eight-year-old up to no good, all boyish pride. “I made it to the top.”

“He had to get you down too, didn’t he?”

“Yup. I think I even cried a little on the way down.”

Her laugh tumbled out, the sound softening his eyes, and she saw his gaze where it drifted a bit, as though remembering.

Watching him, Makino tried to picture their son at that age, if he would be similarly brave, and foolish, and if he might have a little brother or sister egging him on. Maybe even more than one.

It wasn’t the first time the thought found her, imagining more children. She hadn’t brought it up since the birth of their son, and didn’t know how to broach the subject now, when their lives had changed so much. She hadn’t been able to make herself ask him what he felt about it, afraid of what the answer would be. It was already a risk having her on board, and a baby who wasn’t even a year old. A pregnancy wouldn’t exactly make things easier.

Would he think it would be too dangerous for her to stay? She couldn’t say he would be wrong, but just thinking about going back to her life before, and that aching loneliness, to wait, scared and alone on some island, filled her with a fear that made all her other worries pale in comparison.

She knew his old captain had accepted the risk, allowing the wife and children of one of his men to sail with them, but it had been a different time, and from what Shanks had told her, she could hold her own against the best in their crew. Makino couldn’t say the same for herself.

“It proves my point, though,” Shanks said, drawing her back from where her thoughts had gone, and her hand slipped from where it had been worrying her stomach. The admiration in his voice was genuine, but then for all his teasing, he’d never been the type to indulge her just to make her feel better. “You’re a natural. At this rate you’ll be dancing on the yards in no time.”

The impulse seized her, not an unusual feeling where he was concerned, wanting his eyes on her, and his admiration. It was what gave her the courage now, overtaking her fear, and spurred by the sight of his eyes widening, Makino put the future out of her mind, focusing instead on Shanks as she made to push to her feet.

Shifting her weight, she rose to her full height. She wasn’t looking at him now, but felt his focus, the near-physical grip of his eyes, fastened on her where she balanced on the yard. The wind tugged her blouse from where she’d tucked it into the waistline of her breeches, filling her lungs, until she felt light as air. Aside from being terrifying, there was something exhilarating about being aloft, so high up it felt like you could see to the very ends of the world.

The yard creaked beneath her bare feet, but her balance held as she walked the length of the yardarm, her arms lifted, but she didn’t waver, a balletic grace that cheerfully defied her hesitance climbing up, and reaching the end of the yard, she turned to find his mouth hanging open, and couldn’t keep her smile demure where it split her face, her secret revealed.

She wished she could commemorate the look on his face somehow, as Shanks told her, “I don’t know what I’m more proud of, your acting skills or the fact that you’ve been practicing without me noticing.”

Smiling, she didn’t mention that the last one had been a bigger challenge than learning to work aloft, but the nights he’d been busy with their son, going to sleep early, she’d sneak out to practice. Fen and Yasopp had been teaching her, and she saw Shanks single out both culprits now in the crow’s nest, wearing near-identical grins.

His eyes found hers again, a new look in them now, as though he was seeing her differently. And it was a look she knew but that never failed to catch her off guard, something that was at once tender and fierce, and that filled her with a thrill that knew no equal, even against the adrenaline rush of being aloft where she stood atop the sea, dressed in the warm spray and the salt wind and with blisters on her hands and feet that it would take some time yet to become proper callouses.

She wondered what he saw now when he looked at her, if it was a barmaid or a pirate; wasn’t sure which she felt like, but the look on his face rendered the distinction unimportant.

Glancing down, the drop still made her stomach turn in on itself, but it was a different feeling being up here now than it had been the first time. It might also have something to do with his reaction, and the grin that was so proud it looked like it couldn’t go any wider.

Her own pride made her bold, and made her forget the distance to the deck, and holding his eyes, she didn’t pay enough attention to her feet, or the loose bit of rope where it peeked out from where the sails were stowed.

It caught her foot.

She saw Shanks’ eyes widening, his grin falling as he scrambled to reach for her, but it was too late.

Terror seized her limbs, and even the formerly playful wind couldn’t cushion her fall as she plummeted through the air. For all that it had seemed so far, the drop to the deck below was quick, and she had less than a second to think as she twisted mid-air, grabbing for the rope as Fen tossed it down, and her heart lurched into her mouth as her downward descent changed course, the momentum provided by her fall allowing her to swing around the main mast.

The wind rushed by, dragging tears from her eyes and a terrified laugh from her chest as she soared through the air, towards the deck and the crew who’d gathered to watch, wearing horrified expressions and looking like they’d been prepared to catch her, but they were forced to step aside as Makino released her grip on the line.

Her landing wasn’t as smooth as she’d wanted, as releasing the rope saw her stumbling forward as her feet touched the deck, multiple pairs of hands reaching out to grab her, but she didn’t fall, catching herself against Lucky, who was the closest.

A full second of stunned silence followed where no one made a sound, before Yasopp let out a whooping cheer, but the rest looked so shocked, they didn’t immediately respond.

She saw the first wavering grin, before more rippled through the crowd, followed by their voices, their salt-hewn timbres raised in a roar under the open sky. It filled her chest, leaving her lightheaded as rough hands ruffled her hair and gripped her shoulders.

Still reeling, Makino didn’t tell them she was glad for the support, because it felt like her knees were about to give out.

Her heart was pounding against the roof of her mouth, adrenaline and childlike exhilaration pulling a winded laugh from her chest, bright and airy as she lifted her eyes to the main mast, only to find Shanks calling down towards her.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she didn’t even attempt a demure smile this time, or pretend her knees weren’t trembling as badly as her voice, even as she called up, “Were you worried, Captain?”

His breath left him in a gust she couldn’t decide whether or not was a laugh.

She watched as he lifted to his feet, her eyes widening as he reached for one of the lines, before diving off the topgallant yard, using the propulsion from his jump to swing around the mast like she had, although with far more control.

But where she’d expected him to step onto the deck, he only shifted his weight, allowing his momentum to carry him towards where she was standing, and she’d just realised what he meant to do when he swept her off her feet, the arm extended to hold the line wrapping around her tightly.

Her hands scrambled for purchase, clinging to his broad shoulders, a shrieking laugh pulling from her lips, chased by his deeper cadence as they soared through the air, once more around the mast. The wind carried them forward, and glancing down saw the drop to the water below, but it wasn’t fear that filled her this time, her nose buried in his neck with her laughter, like when he’d spin her, dancing in her bar as the fiddle played until she was dizzy and gasping for breath, only this time they danced on the squalls to the singing of the ship.

He put them down on the deck, his arm around her keeping her legs from giving out as he stepped off, holding her to him as he gently eased her down on her feet. Her whole body shook, adrenaline and laughter in equal measure as she steadied herself against his body.

His arm curled around her loosely, his palm spanning her back, but he didn’t let her go, which Makino appreciated, as she didn’t trust her legs just yet.

“That’s payback for nearly giving me a heart attack,” Shanks said, playfully chiding, although there was a slight waver in his voice that couldn’t be smoothed over with humour.

Looking up at him where he held her, her beaming smile didn’t know how to contain itself. “I wanted to surprise you.”

His look softened, somehow both achingly proud and mildly exasperated, as he told her wryly, “You succeeded.” Touching his chest, he let out a wheezing sigh. “Well, at least I know my ticker is working. Always good to know at my age.”

“I try to keep you on your toes,” Makino said, and gently glib, “That’s what a younger wife is for, or so I’ve heard.”

The chuckle that left him was winded, and pulling her close, “I love you,” he sighed. “You’ll send me to an early grave, but at least I’ll be really excited about it.”

Her grin hurt. “Any comments on my form?”

“Exquisite. Dainty and petite. Perfect, tiny breas―”

She clapped her hands over his mouth, her laughter loud and startled. “Shanks!”

“What?” he asked, his voice muffled behind her hands. “Oh, was that not what you were referring to?” His grin peeked out from behind her splayed fingers, her palms catching on his beard as he chuckled, “My bad.”

Kissing her fingers, he wrapped his own around them, his big hand dwarfing hers as he squeezed it. Makino almost thought it felt like his fingers were shaking.

His grin had eased a bit, although his voice was rough with pride as he kissed her small fist and said, “Quick reaction time, and damn impressive manoeuvres. A bit shaky on the landing, but you get extra points for theatrics.”

Beaming, she didn’t mention that she’d fallen on her ass the first eight attempts; she was just delighted she’d stuck the landing when it counted. “I still need more practice going down,” Makino said.

His whole face brightened, his grin fairly wolfish, and she recognised her mistake a second too late.

“Oh my god,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with a gusting laugh.

“I’m torn between vehemently disagreeing with that statement and graciously offering myself up for you to practice on,” Shanks said, his arm wrapping around her as she bent her head towards his chest, her laughter helpless as he lowered his voice to murmur, “You know my feelings about that particular skill of yours. Look; it’s already got a standing ovation.”

She pinched his side, and demurely ignored said standing ovation where it pressed against her stomach, her arms wrapped around his waist as she leaned into his chest, his laughter soft as he pulled her close, a trembling kiss pressed to the parting of her hair.

The others were there, their voices raised with delight, “Seriously, Makino!”

Nervous laughter. “You really had us going there for a moment!”

“Yeah, no shit. I thought my heart was about to fall through my ass!”

“Lovely image,” Shanks said, his arm sliding around her back as she leaned into his side.

Ben was holding Ace, awakened from his brief nap by the commotion. For once, his untouchable expression yielded a surprising amount of feeling, although Makino didn’t know whether to call it relief or like he desperately needed a smoke.

“You’re supposed to be the one with sense,” he told her, handing the baby over to Shanks when he reached his arms towards his father.

Shanks just grinned, and settling their son on his arm, “Just wait until this little guy begins climbing the rigging. It’s a good thing you can’t get any greyer, Ben, but then it’s my turn now, I guess.”

Ben looked at them both, then at his godson. Makino wondered if it was the first time the thought had occurred to him.

Smiling, and ignoring the thought of how she would handle an overactive toddler on a ship, “Wish you hadn’t quit smoking?” Makino asked him.

Ben looked at the baby, making excited babbling noises as Shanks pointed at a seagull grooming on the yard where they’d been sitting.

But for all his long-suffering, and the worry she still felt that they’d be too much trouble to have aboard, it wasn’t regret that made a startled grin break across his face, catching even her off guard as Ben said, and with a look that made her wonder if he knew what she was hiding, “A small sacrifice.”

[thebiasrekkers]

Call You Mine [MYG]

Plot: "I never regretted the day that I called you mine..." 

A Min Yoongi/Agust D one-shot. 

That's it. That's the summary. I have nothing else to say. 

Happy Birthday Min Yoongi!

Rating: PG // SFW

Genre: fluff | romance | idol romance | one-shot

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 1,912

AN: Wee. It’s late. I’m late. I’m always late. Who’s surprised? Not me. Happy Birthday Lil Meow Meow! All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

"Who are you?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Your breathing shifted just now."

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. That was how he always responded when you asked him that. Was it because you knew him so well? Or were you just anxious? Maybe it was a mixture of both. Either way, it was something you didn't want to admit aloud.

Not to yourself. Not to him.

"Does it matter?" he asked. 

Of course it mattered! 

You didn't respond, determined to get your answer first.

He flashed you a mischievous grin, a bit of his silver fringe falling along the bridge of his nose. "Why don't you guess?"

You felt your lips pulling into a pout, mustering what patience you had to not smack his bare chest with all the strength you could manage this late in the night. Even in the low light, he must have seen the disapproving look you were giving him. Lifting one hand up, he lightly poked your forehead and you whined at being teased. You knew he did this to get a rise out of you. He also knew how important it was for him to give you an answer.

It bothered you how much he always dragged his feet on this matter. The more logical side always reminded you to have patience. This was his own personal game that he liked to play with you. Sometimes he would win. Sometimes you did. 

No one was really keeping score anymore.

You didn't want to guess. You didn't feel like playing this game tonight. To showcase your intent, you roughly pulled from his side and flipped over on the bed to turn your back to him. This must have surprised him because he didn't start laughing at your reaction. In fact, the bed was absolutely still - your breaths barely audible in the dark.

Warmth touched the flare of your hip as he placed his hand there. You tried not to relish in his touch, but it was difficult. After everything you'd gone through to get to this moment, it was only self-inflicted pain to ignore him. Part of you knew to stand your ground. The other part was willing to give in to his advances.

Because you loved him so much. Because you loved all of him…so much.

“Hey,” he called softly, reaching over your stomach and pulling you close to his body, “remember when we first met? At that bar in that one town?”

You bit back a scoff. Like you could forget. He never made it easy for you to, even if you wanted to. 

You kept silent, not wanting to cater to his need to hear your voice. To hear how, even now, you found yourself in an endless loop of falling in love with him each and every single day. To him, you were a lifeline for survival. To you, he was the reason you pushed through your tiresome work week.

The bar was crowded that night. It was an average Friday evening. You were out with friends, hitting the town and it was the third bar on the stop of your group’s infamous “bar hops”. Nothing was special about that night. It was just the end of another long work week for you. Another end of being a faceless number down a long hall of cramped cubicles and endless phone calls. A moment’s reprieve from jittering printers and raucous fax machines.

Two days of escape from being a nameless paper pusher in a seemingly endless cycle of meaningless.

He walked through the doors with his entourage - exuding purpose and power. They were celebrating another successful performance and chatter about said performance was the first thing you heard as they burst through the door. You watched him go straight up to the bar and buy it out, saying everyone’s drinks for the rest of the night were on him.

You envied his smile. You envied his “can do” attitude that dripped from every square inch of his body.

But it was his freedom that made you jealous the most.

You weren’t wearing anything particularly fancy that night. A pair of acid washed jeans stuffed in combat boots, a loose sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder. Hell, even your hair was in a messy up-do. After all, you weren’t looking for an easy score that night. Your plans to get laid were the furthest thing from your mind.

Yet there was no mistaking the way he zeroed in on you. Out of all the patrons in the bar, you were the one he decided to nail his focus to. You were the one who somehow managed to get his attention.

So, what should have been a night of blissfully getting toasted with your friends turned into something much different.

Feeling his lips against the nape of your neck, you felt your breath hitch slightly as his mouth moved to speak. “I asked you what you were doing for the rest of your life.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from your chest, causing you to curl up into a ball as you covered your mouth. It was one of the most absurd questions you’d ever been asked. Who even asked something like that in this day and age? What you were doing tomorrow? Sure. What you were doing next weekend? Of course.

The rest of your life, however, held a different weight altogether.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing tonight,” came your amused reply as you lowered your hands from your face. You still refused to look at him. “That’s what I said.”

The memories were flooding in quickly. His looks. The low dulcet sound of his voice. Even the cute little lisp he had when he spoke excitedly about something. His hair was a different color back then; jet black with an undercut. 

Everything changed in that one conversation. 

Despite his big spending at the bar, you knew he wasn’t well off. Not yet. But he had big dreams. He had drive. Money didn’t grow on trees and his dream would yield fruit if it prospered. Music, however, was such a shaky basket to throw all of your eggs into. But his passion and determination made you believe that he was telling the truth; that nothing would stop him from succeeding. He was determined and there was a small part of you that wished for his success. Somebody needed to grow wings and fly.

But the conversation didn’t take long to reverse back to you. On to your current occupation and your overall distaste with how things were going in your own life. It was a dead end road. You knew this. Somewhere along the way, you even accepted it. Some people were paper pushers and others were the stars that people could admire from afar. You had no place in that world. Your meager complaints and tiny goals could hardly hold a candle to the strength of his burning ambition.

That’s what you believed in the beginning.

You should’ve known better. 

After his friends and yours all got together to finish the bar hop for the night, your groups eventually wound up near the outskirts of town at a park. The drinking, laughter and flirting continued. He was never far from your side and neither were you from his. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, his hand found its way into yours, holding it close. Your lips touched soon after and it was a magical moment.

That was the beginning of the end for  you.

Days rolled into weeks. Weeks into months. You looked forward to the weekends not to escape the dreary worklife you found yourself trapped in, but to see his performances in underground venues and fringe shows. The energy he exuded from the stage was intoxicating and the cheers from the crowd as he pumped them up was contagious. It only took a few shows and you were screaming and hopping around like an idiot like the rest of them.

Afterward, your groups would meet again to drink and celebrate in the success of the show. It wasn’t embarrassing for you all to run through the streets, screaming and shouting as the thrill of the night cloaked you from head to toe. Bottles of beers in your hands, you ran through crowds and stumbled down stairs in hopes of catching the last train home. You both cuddled in a drunken haze together as everyone talked all over one another - wrapped up in their own conversations.

It was only then that it became apparent that the person you were slowly falling for had two personas. One for the stage and one for when it was just the two of you. Sometimes they bled into one another. Sometimes they were kept far apart from each other.

Agust D and Min Yoongi.

As his success continued to build, your anxiety mounted - worrying about where your place was in his life. More months passed and the venues started to change. You knew there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to go to a performance because it was in the middle of the work week. Or maybe it was too far for you to travel. You couldn’t risk taking off of work for something “trivial” like a concert performance. That’s what your managers would say. They would belittle you for inconveniencing the rest of your co-workers. 

You had an image to maintain.

When he showed up on stage with silver hair, you knew that it was time. Agust D was rising to a level of stardom you wouldn’t be able to compete with. Fans cheered and remained loyal. Fans who were willing to drop any plans they had to hit the road and support their idol. They’d been around far longer than you had; had been cheering for him during a time when you didn’t even know he existed. 

It was the life he’d chosen; one you knew was going to take wing.

How were you supposed to stay close beside him? How were you going to continue to nurture this thing that existed between you both?

Feeling his arms wrap around your bare stomach, he pulled you even closer. You could feel his heartbeat slowly bumping against your shoulder blades. Yoongi pressed a kiss behind your ear, one of your weak spots, before allowing his tongue to glide along the curve of your jaw. You resisted the urge to moan at how he made you feel, both in that moment and every moment before now.

“I never regretted the day that I called you mine…”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, blurring your vision. Part of you wanted to curse him for his words. For his way with words. But that was how he always was. On the stage or off, it didn’t matter. It was his answer for any worry that threatened to smother you into a dark pit of no return.

Slowly, you turned in his arms. Yoongi’s eyes peered at you, his brows furrowing with concern despite the smirk playing on his lips. 

“Do you know the answer?”

That was the answer to your question. It was always going to be the answer.

Lifting your arms up, you wrapped them around his neck and leaned in, your lips barely touching his. “You’re Min Yoongi…” This time, you could feel your own smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “...and you’re mine.”

[mizelophsun11]

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 8

Pairing - It is still General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner and will eventually shift to Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - First the little group from Ketterdam has to make it through the Fold before they can get to Eastern Ravka. As they travel through the Fold a past that Kaz does not like to talk about haunts his thoughts. A promise that he never intended on breaking brings more to Kaz than he cared to admit.

Word Count - 2550

-

“They want you to believe the Sun Summoner has been found to finally tear down the wall that divides us. But how many times have we been fed a story like that?! And how many times have we in the West been told to send our sons and daughters through the Fold for another year? It is time to accept that we need to break away from the old country! Now is the time to form our own country, to keep what we make and what we earn instead of sending it to the East! For the true Ravka!” Zlatan finished his speech and walked off towards the entrance of his tent where he shook hands with Arken who had an interesting proposition

Out in the open Kaz Brekker watched their exchange, he had not been too thrilled about this, but knew that they needed Arken to get them across the Fold. He would be able to come up with a plan to deal with Arken later. Kaz spotted Inej looking at the stones with names of people from the West who had gone through the Fold and died or never come back.

Inej noticed Kaz walk up to her with the tiny goat “he’s adorable”

“Don’t get too attached” he looked between her and the stones “I didn’t think I’d have to specify no detours for you”

“Even if just a few minutes could end a lifetime of questions?” Inej asked

Kaz sighed “I have looked at these stones for answers, when I couldn’t find her name these stones felt useless, just another reminder of an unknown”

“Maybe because she was able to survive the Fold, she is now the Sun Summoner, you cannot continue to deny it forever, there is hope you two will see each other again” Inej knew that they both were trying to find a name to have some closure, but it was not always that easy

“Hope is dangerous, it can cloud anyones judgement, including our own. Just like your mind has been clouded by your questions of my past with Anna Mizeloph, I told you I wanted your complete focus on this job” Kaz said adjusting the goat he was holding in his arm

“I will, this will be the last time I promise” Inej could tell that she was pushing on Kaz berries with talking about Anna

“Don’t forget Inej, we all have debts to pay” Kaz walked off to meet head towards the meeting point with Inej walking behind him

Once it got darker everyone had met at the disclosed location near the edge of town so they could start their journey, but there was one person missing, Jesper. They still made their way towards where the train would be when Inej stopped to read the sign.

“Wait, there are landmines here..” Inej said looking to Arken

“I put those signs up there to keep people away” Akren informed them

Kaz looked behind “where the hell is Jesper?” he did not want to be delayed

They walked over to where the machinery was hidden that would get them through the Fold “It’s one thing to hear about it, but.. This is..” Inej looked at the looming darkness as they got closer

“Nothing compared to what lies within” Arken went through the thick shadow and pulled the train out “there, so the goat, jurad.. Thank you. Now we are just waiting on the coal..”

“Wait for me!” Jesper yelled as he ran, followed by gunshots

Arken began to panic as he saw Jesper running towards their location with people following behind “they can’t see the train!”

“Leave the lantern!” Inej yelled

“Landmines!” Jesper looked at the sign

“Come on!” Kaz knew it was going to be close

Jesper tossed the lantern onto the ground and ran to the train in the dark making sure to watch his step. Once he got in he felt a slight sigh of relief wash over him, he had gotten coal and not been blown up.

“Please tell me you have 20 pounds of alabaster coal” Arken pleaded

Jesper gave him the bag “slight snap in the plan, turns out the kid who was helping me buy the coal didn’t exactly know how to, um, buy coal”

“We know you gambled it away” Kaz knew Jesper too well

“I lost a bit of the money.. Well, I lost all of the money, but! I was able to steal 20 pounds of alabaster coal” Jesper smiled a little

“No no.. there’s only 16 pounds” Arken was slightly panicking

Jespers smile faltered “16 pounds of alabaster coal”

“Can we do it on 16?” Kaz asked

“Never been done before, now I need you three to sit down and never shift your weight” Arken started to set everything up to get the train to start moving, then they suddenly heard the sound of an explosion and men screaming

Jesper shook a little “Landmines..”

Kaz looked up a Arken from his spot “I thought you said they weren’t real”

“I said no such thing, I just said I put the sign up” Arken began to put coal in and the train started, they entered the Fold.

It was quiet in the train so far, everyone was thinking about anything else than being inside the Fold. As the train chugged on Kaz knew that right now he should be thinking about what they will do to get into the Little Palace, but his thoughts drifted to Anna Mizeloph. He knew better, but Kaz could not help it, the little girl with white hair that he remembered was now the Sun Summoner. He remembered when they were younger, imagining their lives and how everything would work out.

-

Little 8 year old Kaz and Anna were holding hands as they ran down an alley holding a few items of food. Once they got to their safe spot they sat down and started to nibble at the food, Anna looked over at Kaz.

“What do you think our lives will be like once we are older Kazie?” Anna asked

“Honestly, I’m not sure, I want to get back at Pekka for putting me and Jordie in our current situation” Kaz was angry, he and his brother had the chance to start a new life when their father had died, they should not be in this situation

“But you met me.. You mean a lot to me Kazie” Anna said looking at the small amount of food she had left, this was all she knew, living on the streets

Kaz sighed “the future also involves me and Jordie becoming rich and you will be a part of that Anna, we will stick together” he smiled a little at her and pulled Anna close

“Good” she rested her head on his shoulder “but if you become rich can we travel the world? Maybe see Ravka? I’ve only heard of it from others travelers, but it sounds beautiful”

“Anything you want Anna” Kaz adjusted Anna and began to run his fingers through her hair to try and get a few tangles out “when we are older you will get whatever you want, I promise”

Anna smiled and closed her eyes feeling Kaz run his fingers through her hair. While she hated that Kaz and Jordie were cheated out of their money to survive, Anna was thanking every saint that she had known for meeting Kaz. She felt beyond lucky to have a best friend like Kaz and wished that they had met under different circumstances.

“Hey Kazie?” Anna said softly

“Yes Anna?” He continued to run his fingers through her hair now for comfort

“Can you make me another promise? This one is more important..” Anna could not imagine her future without Kaz

“Anything you want Anna” Kaz smiled a little finishing his combe through of her hair and pulled her close into a hug

“Promise me that we will never be separated, that we will grow up together and never leave each other, please promise me this” she pleased

“Yes, I promise” Kaz said, not knowing what the future held and that in a year he would break that promise. However, he didn’t know that, so with his ignorant bliss he made the promise

“Can we pinkie promise?” Anna asked looking at Kaz

Kaz smiled and nodded holding his pinky out “I promise”

Anna held her hand out and linked their pinkles “I promise” she continued to stay close to Kaz as he kissed the top of her head, their promise.

-

Kaz thought about that promise more than he would like to admit, he was the first one to break it. Even though it wasn’t really his choice because the people who collected him and his brother thought they were dead. However, that was still the moment of separation and Kaz wished that things could have been different. Anna was and still is an important girl to him and it made him think about what would happen when they were finally face to face. It would eventually happen since Anna is the key to the million kruge mission. Kaz wondered if she would recognize him or not, if she did how would she react? There was a lot running through his mind about Anna that was suddenly jossled when the train jerked.

With the sudden motion of the train came a strange noise snapping Kaz out of his thoughts “what was that?”

“Bits of metal hun on the poles, when they collide with the one on the train it markes where we are in our journey, right now we are on time” Arken said while looking at his watch

“How did you know where to put the poles?” Kaz asked

“Physics and engineering are a part of.. Most of my success” Akren continued to focus on his watch, he would glance at the coal then back at his watch

“And the rest?” Kaz glanced up at Arken

“What we might call divine intervention” Akren checked the coal against

“What other might call luck” Kaz never enjoyed relying on luck in anything

“And after all, the Fold is thick with volcra, and the tracks are not complete. Coal please” Arken said, Kaz threw some coal in

“I’m sorry, did you say the tracks weren’t complete?” Jesper asked starting to feel a little bit nervous and began to move

“Ah, ah! No moving” Arken said “it seems like we are falling behind, by my calculations we are now a tad late, more coal” Kaz put some more coal into the flames, fueling the train to continue going

“Back to the real issue, we are on tracks that don’t connect to other tracks” the amount of panic in Jesper was beginning to rise

“There is a gap, but..” Arken was going to continue but Kaz cut him off

“You said you could get us through, how much of a gap?” Kaz asked

Arken sighed, continuing to watch the coal and the watch to see if they could get back to being on time. “I built slats on the car, they roll into place under the wheels and the turbine generated enough wind to push all the way to the eastern tracks. This only works if we did not shift our weight, now we are about to go past a nest, the noise may attract volcra but it is the only way across”

As they continued through the sound of growling volcra echoed “now we have a problem, but we should be fine if they haven’t attacked us by..” the flapping wings of volcra got closer

Kaz looked at how Arken reacted “if need be how do you fight them off?”

“There is no way to fight them off, I can only outrun them to give a fighting chance. Open the throttle and toss all of the coal in, if we had 20 pounds this would work” as the coal was tossed in the train was gossled, Arken looked out to see what had happened “Damn! One of them impaid itself onto a spike”

The blood from the Volcra seeped through the ceiling and into the train “we need to get it off or else the other will stand on it” Kaz said

“More coal!” Arken commanded

Kaz threw the rest of the coal in and the bag it came in “we are down on fumes!”

Everything was beginning to unfold against them, they were behind, volcra were now attacking their only means of transportation through the Fold. A true nightmare, it almost had seemed too good to be true in the beginning when everything was running smoothly. Kaz could tell that they would be cutting it close, if they could even make it through.

Arken nodded “we won’t make it with this extra weight” he continued to try and get the dead volcra off the spike

“This is how we die” Jesper said

“Jesper grab the goat” Arken looked down at his watch to see if they were any close to the other side of the Fold

“I’m not throwing out the goat!” Jesper yelled

“Damit it Jesper, grab the damn goat! It’s not bait, it is for you now I need you to calm down and hug the goat!” Arken yelled back at Jesper

The sound of metal meeting metal rattled through the train “no no.. we should have hit that mark 20 seconds ago”

This caught Kaz's attention “20 seconds? Meaning..”

“My timing is precise in order to get us through, even 20 seconds behind means the train could stop inside the Fold which means.. Death for all of us” Akren looked down at the flames keeping the train going, but his attention was pulled away by the sound of volcra “there are more coming.. You may want to make your peace..”

Kaz never hoped for anything, until now he was hoping to make it through the Fold to see Anna. He had never been afraid of death, every mission in Ketterdam was a risk. However, this was different, he could die right here and never see Anna again. Within his thoughts he realised that there was so much more to this mission. Once her name left that man's lips the night of the job, that night he knew that this would be his chance to see her again. He needed to stay alive in order to see her and that would not be possible if he died in the Fold.

Arken looked up as the contraption that had taken him across the Fold too many times to count, it was now being torn apart by a few volcra. Jesper knew what he had to do, he had the guns, with his skills in hand he approached where the volcra were tearing through the top. The monsters screamed and with collection Jesper began to fire off shots at the swarming volcra killing all of them. It was a moment of silence before another metal ping rang, the sun shone through the hole made by the dead volcra. A sigh of relief left everyone in the train, they had made it through the Fold, alive. Now they had to figure out what the next plan was in order to get them into the Little Palace and get Anna Mizeloph.

-

Author Note - I am so sorry this chapter came later than I had hoped! These seem to only get longer and longer XD However I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! I originally did not plan on adding this chapter, but I thought it would be good to see more of Kaz and the past he has with Anna Mizeloph. Like always feel free to pm me if you would like to or leave a comment, I love reading what everyone has to say!

Tag List- @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders @benbarnes-supremacy @graciefullygracie @aleksanderwh0r3 @klaudosh @herbatkazmilosica

[calebdumes]

Hera lives off of ration bars. Kanan doesn't really know how to cook, but is determined to learn in order to avoid eating a ration bar ever again.

Kanan would be a meal prepper.

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: n/r

word count: 1.6k

~

One thing that Kanan learned quickly after joining the Ghost's crew was, Hera had no taste buds. That had to be the only explanation as to why she could exist on ration bars alone. Literally. There was no other source of food to be found on the freighter and Kanan had looked. He scoured every nook and cranny of the ship looking for something, anything, that wasn't those horrible processed bricks. After finding the third box of the food supplements in storage Kanan was starting to feel a little desperate. Surely, surely, Hera ate actual real food. She had to. 

"They cost less and keep longer than fresh food." Hera had explained. 

Kanan stared at her dumbly. "But what about taste?"

"What about it?"

"Don't you want your food to actually taste like something?"

Hera shrugged, nonplussed. "I think they taste fine." 

"You're kidding right?" he said in disbelief. "Please tell me you're kidding?"

"Why would I kid about this?" she bit down on a bar, the resounding crunch sounding like a rockfall. "It's just food. Besides, fuel for the Ghost isn't exactly cheap." she waved the bar in front of his face. "So we compromise." 

Kanan could compromise on a lot of things. 

Food wasn't one of them. 

Kanan's aversion to ration bars went beyond the lack of taste and the potential for losing a tooth. Oh he'd eat one if he was in a pinch but after the fifth or sixth ration bar exclusive meal, the air would start to smell faintly of blaster fire and the bitter taste of ash would be heavy on his tongue.  Life on the front lines wasn't easy and it was difficult to make real food when you were fighting off battle droids. 

No, Kanan would compromise on whatever he had to if it meant that he could have actual food. 

And if it was cost she was worried about, well Kanan had just the thing to ease her mind.

"This shouldn't take long." Hera said as she powered down the Ghost's engines, the walls of the spaceport surrounding them. "Just a simple intel exchange and we should be on our way."

"You want me to come with you?" Kanan asked, going through the post flight checklist. 

"I'll be fine." she said lightly. "I've met with this contact several times before."

"If you're sure."

Hera smiled. "I am. But thank you though. You could check out the market while you wait if you don't want to stay on the Ghost." she suggested before climbing down the latter into the hold. Kanan waited in the cockpit, watching as she disappeared into the station before moving. He grabbed a handful of credits and a bag before sliding down into the hold.  

The market was brimming with beings from all walks of life, the air thick with the smell of cooking meat and familiar spices. Kanan's stomach rumbled. He made his way through the throng of people looking for his ingredients, stopping momentarily to buy himself a ronto wrapper, savoring the spicy meat and warm fluffy bread - a far cry from the bricks he had been forced to eat the past week.  

Kanan wasn't the greatest of cooks in the galaxy but he was at least passable. He could make food that tasted reasonably good and only slightly burnt. Cooking wasn't really a skill the Order bothered to teach its students, there was a lot they didn't bother to teach, but it was one he had to learn out of necessity. And even before, in the quiet lulls between battles Master Billaba would show him how to make simple food with whatever planet they were on had to offer. In fact it was one of her recipes that he was using to show Hera that food could be cheap and taste good if you knew how to work it.

He was just putting on the final touches when Hera came back, the doors to the galley sliding open to reveal her curious face.

"What's that smell?" she asked, taking a seat at the small table bolted to the floor. 

"That," Kanan set a steaming bowl of stew down in front of her with flourish, "Is food. Real food."

Hera looked at it warily before taking the spoon he held out to her. She dragged the utensil through the creamy broth, picking through the chunks of tubers and nerf meat before bringing it to her lips. 

Kanan waited, watching as her eyes grew wide. "Kanan, what is it?" she asked, her cheeks punched out, full of stew.

"I don't actually know the name for it." he said sitting down across from her with his own bowl. "My Mast - someone I knew used to make it for me a lot. Or some version of it at least. She never did write it down."

"It's so good." she said between bites. Kanan could feel the heat rise in his cheeks and burn across the tips of his ears from the praise. Hera devoured her food making tiny little moans that had no place in a galley. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to focus on his food.

Hera was a mystery to him. He still couldn't figure out what it was about her that made him want to give up his life as a drifter, bouncing from one planet to the next, one job to the other without caring about anyone but himself. She was beautiful, that wasn't a question, but there was more to it than that; she had some kind of spark that drew him in. 

She was like a puzzle, infinitely perplexing yet always managing to stump him just when he thought he had her figured out. Hera wasn't that much younger than him but had a confidence that someone her age rarely had. She knew who she was and what she wanted and wasn't about to let anything get her in way - including him. 

Oddly enough, Kanan found himself to be okay with that. His feelings for her would dim over time, he could adjust. Besides, the future was hardly set in stone and if she needed time, Kanan would gladly wait. 

She was worth it. 

"Kanan did you hear me?" Hera asked, rapping her spoon on her bowl. 

"What?" he blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. 

"I asked, where did you learn to cook like this?"

"Oh," He rubbed the back of his neck. "I picked some things up here and there. But the most important thing is," Kanan leveled her pointed look. "Everything I used to make that costs less than a container of ration bars."

Hera rolled her eyes ."You're just saying that to get me to stop buying them."

"I'm serious! You can find cheap, fresh food in just about every spaceport in the galaxy if you know where to look."

"And let me guess, you know?"

Kanan shrugged. "I do. I've been out on my own a lot longer than you have. I've picked up some things here and there." He repeated. "And with stuff like this, you can make a big batch and freeze it for later. Costs less to buy, lasts long, and most importantly, tastes better."

Hera arched a brow, unconvinced. 

Resisting a sigh, he tried a different approach and took her hands into his. "Let me prove it to you. Let me cook for the next few weeks and we'll compare costs. Sounds like a plan?"

Hera's silence dragged out and for one tense minute Kanan was afraid he was going to be stuck eating ration bars until he died. But Hera gave his fingers a little squeeze before withdrawing them from his grip. 

"Fine." she relented. " One week. And if it turns out to be less like you say, I'll lay off the ration bars."

Kanan gave her a blinding smile. "I won't let you down Captain."

A blush spread across her face, heat pooling in his belly at the sight. "I certainly hope not."

.

"Remember when you use to live off ration bars?" Kanan asked, his voice low. Hera was pressed into his side, resting her head against his shoulder while the kids were no doubt making a mess in the galley. 

She snorted, her chest rumbling with a hearty chuckle. "Don't remind me."

Kanan scratched at his scar on his face absentmindedly. “I still can’t believe that was your plan.” 

Hera  pinched his arm. “I was young, first time being out on my own. What else was I going to do?”

Kanan’s response was cut off by a loud clatter of dishes from the galley, followed by harsh whispers. 

“Do I want to know what’s going on?” He felt her lean forward. 

“No you do not but when you get stuck cleaning the galley  I just want you to remember, this was your idea.” 

Kanan shrugged. “Eh, it’ll be fine.” The kids had been in charge of weekly meal prep before, so he wasn’t too worried. Besides, no mess could possibly top the first Ezra had taken a stab of making the food for the week.

“You say that now.” 

Kanan hummed, listening to the clatter in the galley. He remembered the days when that room was mostly silent, when the only sounds echoing off the durasteel walls was the crunch of ration bar. 

“Ration bars.” he chucked fondly at the memory. 

Hera pushed at his shoulder with a tisk but he could hear her smile. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up smart guy. See where that gets you tonight.”

His mouth snapped shut. Hera patted his cheek. “That’s what I thought.”

Kanan smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m just glad you came to see things my way.”

Hera leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I would have figured it out eventually.” 

“Of course dear.”

[darkurgediary]

Two Worlds, Two Hearts: Chapter Five

Summary: News of Jareth's disappearance affects Sarah in ways she didn't expect, and brings on a new wave of conflicting emotion.

Warning(s): complicated relationships, creepy nightmare (which is all italicized so it'll be easy for anyone to skip over), and Ludo tears! If I missed anything please let me know!

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

The Labyrinth was crumbling.

Jareth was missing.

And now Ludo was crying with such an intensity the ground started to shake.

Hoggle didn’t know how much more of this he could take. The dwarf wove his way through withered hedges till he came upon Ludo, the great beast brought to his knees, thick tears streamed down his face, and a pitiful cry lurched from his throat. Sir Didymus stood before him with tiny paws rested on Ludo’s forearm. Uncharacteristically quiet in the face of his brother’s pain.

“Sarwah,” Ludo’s lower lip wobbled and he tried desperately to pull a string of snot back up his nose, when such an attempt failed, he instead wiped his face on his left forearm.

Hoggle grumbled to himself but still decided to ask, “whats tha matter with'em?”

Sir Didymus perked his ears, looking to Hoggle with a defeated express, “Sir Ludo claims to have seen young maiden over that way.”

The dwarf glanced in the indicated direction, just as he'd thought, no one was there. Hoggle even approached the area and walked around it. Like he was trying to prove to Ludo that his eyes had played a cruel trick on him. Hoggle understood it though, to a degree. Ludo claiming to see Sarah became a common occurrence over the years. Each time, it was harder and harder to explain to Ludo it wasn't real.

“If she ain't been back already then she ain't never comin' b-”

A whisper carried in the breeze and cut him off, “Ludo...” 

Curved horns raised from the ground as brown eyes widened, and basset-hound shaped ears desperately searched for the sound.

Sir Didymus behaved in a similar manner, his bushy tail swishing side to side in a blonde blur, “My lady!” 

Hoggle whirled around, eyes wide as dinner plates. He stumbled back and fell into the dirt. Gazing up at the translucent image of a woman standing over him. Tall, with long black hair, and pale-green eyes. Hoggle rubbed his eyes but still, the haunting presence lingered like a ghost in a graveyard.

If he’d been by himself he would have discredited it easier. With Ludo and Sir Didymus in his company, not even he could deny the sight of the specter before him.

“S...S'it really you?” desperation clung to his words, along with a loneliness he'd kept buried deep.

The image of Sarah looked around, confused at first, and then she saw him. 

Hoggle tried to swallow the knot in his throat as he extended a shaky hand towards her. The thin image of her flickered, and upon contact, Sarah disappeared again.

-----

“Sarah?”

She didn’t look up from the floor, focused on the arguably-ugly patterned carpet like it offended her. Sarah was at her wits end. First she had a Spriggan to deal with and now a Fiery of all things! She didn't even want to think about Jareth, Toby's claim of him missing affected her in ways she didn't understand.

Her name was called again, “Sarah.”

The tick of a clock brought her senses back one by one, slowly, she raised her head. Tired eyes shifted to the old fashioned clock nestled on the corner of the wooden desk. Sarah set her sights on the coffee table next where a teacup sat in front of her. It's contents long abandoned, the liquid just as cold as the blood in her veins. 

“You drifted off,” a melodic scratch of pencil against paper mixed with the question, “where did you go just then?”

Sarah studied him for a moment, Dr. Zakar looked more like an Oxford Professor than a therapist. His brown suit was freshly pressed and his shoes polished. Red hair slicked back save for the few strands hanging just about his brow. Black, thick framed glasses obscured his eyes so she couldn't look directly into them.

A lie would do little for her, yet Sarah couldn't find it in herself to give him the truth. Not the whole truth anyway. He would call the whole incident a wild hallucination.

“I don’t know,” She admitted. Leaning forward to drop her head in her hands with a sigh, “I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He set aside the notepad, giving her his full attention, “Another nightmare?”

“No,” Sarah managed to compose herself. Without realizing it, she started to gnaw on her thumb nail.

“Remember that my job is not to judge you, Sarah. I am here to help encourage you through your struggles. You already have everything you need to conquer them,” Zakar explained calmly, recognizing the anxious habit. “That being said, I cannot give you any guidance if I don’t know the root of the problem.”

He had a point, she couldn’t deny that. As the events of the previous night played in her head like a broken record Sarah wondered where to even begin. It all spiraled out of control in a way she could barely process.

“Last night I found out someone I knew was…” the words trailed off into tense silence. Did she mention the Spriggan and the Fiery or leave it at that? “Missing. He went missing and honestly? I don’t know how I feel.”

“It sounds as though this person left quite an impact on you, I take it you were close?” His inquiry was laced both with concern and caution, showing his condolences but not wanting to further upset her.

“It was complicated, and it was a long time ago. We were different people then. I knew him without really knowing him,” Sarah clenched her hands tight in her lap, “some part of me feels like I should be worried, like I should run through every worst case scenario. What if something bad happened? What if he’s hurt? But...”

Zakar tilted his head, “another part says otherwise?” 

“It’s been fifteen years since we last saw each other. I wouldn’t even know what to say if I saw him again,” Sarah rubbed her temples and groaned, dark brows pulling together.

The clock on his desk chimed twice.

A frown pulled his features, “It seems we’ve reached the end of our session. Though I want you to know, Sarah. You will overcome this grief. Nothing has to be resolved tomorrow, there is a lot to process, and even more to work through. Go home and paint your frustrations, or write them down. Anything to get them out.”

As Sarah left the office she noticed the air felt significantly lighter than it had before she went in, Dr. Zakar’s parting advice stuck with her. She hated how much she thought of Jareth. Even before the news of him missing, the Goblin King often dwelled in a dark corner of her mind. If Jareth wasn’t in the Underground then where else could he possibly be? Sarah started her car and focused on the road ahead.

Upon return to her apartment, the last bits of anxiety washed away as the sound of whimpers and nails against hardwoods echoed behind the door. Sarah didn’t realize how much she missed having a dog till Gwendolyn came into her life. “Hey pretty girl,” Sarah cooed once the door opened Kneeling down to greet her three legged companion. Gwendolyn was a five year old pitbull with a coat the color of caramel and big brown eyes. Sarah’s heart went out to the pup, who came from a hard life on the streets. She felt like she couldn’t leave the shelter without her.

Sarah scratched behind her ears and paused as she set her keys down on the kitchen counter. She stepped towards the half finished painting, the one she’d done the instant she woke from her dream. At first she’d been in the forest with Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus in her company. Then the forest fell into a sea of white and silver. Sarah shuddered as the details haunted her:

She descended into a broken ballroom. Once pristine chairs and tables were thrown to various parts of the room, scuffed, bent, and broken. Shattered glass and glitter covered the floor, save for a bare circle where Sarah stood in the center of the room. Dawning the white princess dress she’d worn fifteen years ago. Frantic eyes took everything in as her head whipped around. Dancers laid sprawled over one another like puppets with their strings cut. 

Except for him.

His name left her tongue barely above a whisper, “Jareth.”

Rather than address her, the Goblin King stood frozen. The dark mask with twisted horns remained against his face, hiding his eyes from her. In an unusual motion he reached a hand out for her. Though he didn’t move in the same fluid, captivating way he had before. Instead Jareth moved like an old toy being wound up for the first time in forever. A crystal appeared in his hand, and his last words echoed around her.

“I ask for so little.”

He stepped towards her.

“Just fear me,”

Another step.

“Love me,”

Sarah retreated with each advancement, eyes wide, and skin white as a sheet. Whatever defiant remark she had ready to shout at him died on her tongue. Jareth loomed over her now, her back flat against the wall. She had nowhere to run.

Forced to look into vacant eyes as he sounded so defeated.

“Do as I say and I-”

Gwendolyn whimpered beside her, gently butting her head against Sarah’s leg.

Black curtains cascaded down her back as she turned to look at her companion, Sarah gave her a sad smile and smoothed a hand down her neck, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Sarah looked back at the expression she’d been so desperate to capture. Why should she be worried about Jareth? Why did her heart absolutely ache at the thought of him cold, alone, and hurt? Her hand started to reach for his half painted cheek but something stopped her. Sarah bit her lip in wonder as the idea of calling him raised to the surface.

With a small shake of the head, Sarah covered it, and tried to bury any other thoughts of him away for the time being. She had other things to focus on. The Spriggan, the Fiery, and Toby’s growing obsession with the Labyrinth. She took one final glance at the painting, “Where are you Jareth?”

———————

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Taglist:

@faeriexqueen​

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@purplesigebert​��

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (3)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Fun fact: the final scene of this chapter is part of my original brainstorm for this fic. The rest of the scenes I initially dreamt up won’t come until much later, so I’m thrilled to have at least one of them come early on in the story. 

To Carrie and Anna, the lights of my life: I named the neighbor after you two. She’s annoying as shit and nothing like either of you, but I needed a name and decided if anyone deserves to have their name as an Easter egg, it’s the two of you. 

*****

Despite the storm, Matty has the shipment of borrowed guns delivered to the Port of Houston in the middle of the night. While they eat breakfast, Mac and Riley study Matty’s excruciatingly detailed directions for navigating the port and finding their shipping crate. She certainly didn’t make it easy on them. 

Riley leans back in her chair, looking around until her eyes land on Harley. “Time for you to earn your keep,” she says between mouthfuls of toast. 

Supposedly, this is what Harley specializes in—sniffing out weapons. The dog should be able to confirm which shipping container the guns are stashed in without Mac or Riley having to check themselves. Theoretically. 

Mac finishes his own plate of eggs and toast in a few ravenous bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.” He gets up to clear the plates and start rinsing dishes. After living with her for more than a year, Riley making breakfast is routine, but Mac still thanks her for it every day. 

Living in the apartment together, they fall right back into their old habits. Mac wakes up early and goes for a run. By the time he returns, Riley is awake and making breakfast. After they eat, Mac showers while Riley goes on her own run. And so on and so forth. 

While Mac was out this morning, he wove through the whole neighborhood, making sure it’s safe for Riley to go out alone. She can handle herself, but Mac has no delusions about the overall quality of men on the streets, and even though he can’t fix that, at least he can help minimize her chances of encountering creepy dudes. 

Before they leave for the Port, Mac and Riley scour their car for a bug or any other surveillance equipment the organization might’ve hidden while they were inside the warehouse talking to Conrad yesterday. They find none. Thankfully. 

Once again, they’re going in armed, and the weight of Mac’s gun feels just as foreign and unwelcome as it did yesterday. He tries not to fidget with it while Riley drives, but she notices his discomfort anyway. “You’ve got to relax,” she says. “All your squirming is stressing me out.” 

“Sorry.” Mac stills, even though his whole body screams to put the gun somewhere else. 

Anywhere else. 

Once they arrive at the Port, Mac guides Riley through the maze of cranes and crates and warehouses until they find the one Matty had the guns stashed in—dark green and otherwise nondescript. 

Unfortunately, there are multiple shipping containers that fit that description at the location Matty provided. As they get out of the SUV, Riley glances between the boxes nervously. “Uhh, which one is it?” 

Mac doesn’t have a clue. “I guess that’s for Harley to tell us.” He looks down at the dog standing obediently beside him. “Find it.” 

He releases the leash as Harley takes off like a rocket, sniffing each container and the surrounding area. She inspects more than half of them before sitting and looking back at Mac. He waits for her to bark, but she doesn’t. Whoever trained her clearly did so with stealth in mind. 

“Do we open it to double check?” Riley asks. 

Mac opens his mouth to say yes, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer before a muddy, dark-blue diesel truck parks beside their SUV. Conrad jumps out of the driver’s seat, accompanied by two younger men, wearing matching scowls and Carhartt jackets. He walks with that same entitled swagger, and a cheap smile spreads across his face. 

“Mr. Turner!” Conrad exclaims, shaking Mac’s hand. His grip is too firm to be friendly. Stepping back, he sneers at Riley, acknowledging her just long enough to impatiently say, “Genevieve.” Mac doesn’t miss the way Conrad’s eyes drop to Riley’s chest, nor the way Riley bristles beside him, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her and crossing her arms to hold it in place. Mac clears his throat. “Sorry,” Conrad says, not sounding sorry at all, “but your wife is very attractive.” 

Riley rolls her eyes so hard they nearly fall out of her head. 

“Your order is this way,” Mac says, cutting off Conrad before he could make another gross statement, “Follow me.” Mac puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezing hard as he steers the man toward the shipping container. Harley is still sitting beside it, waiting patiently, and Mac scratches her head with his free hand. 

Riley whistles, a single sharp note that sends Harley running back to her side. Mac buries his relief that she’s not alone, although he’d still much rather the hulking bodyguards were closer to him than Riley. 

Focus, Mac reminds himself. Riley can hold her own. Just get this over with. 

Mac opens the container, revealing two nondescript wooden crates. Still sneering—at this point, Mac’s starting to think that’s the only expression Conrad is capable of—Conrad waves over his bodyguards, gesturing for them to open the crates. 

For just a second, Conrad’s sneer edges toward a smile. Inside the crates lie exactly what he ordered: military-grade, semi-automatic rifles and enough ammo to kickstart the apocalypse. Mac’s gut churns. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates that he’s arming terrorists. He hates how these men look at Riley like dogs drooling over a steak. He hates that he can’t do anything about any of it, that he has no choice but to play along. 

Mac wishes he could bury his feelings the way Riley does, locking them behind a carefully controlled mask. Instead, his linger just beneath the surface, waiting to make themselves known at the first available opportunity. 

Counting backward from five, he steels himself to finish the game. Just as Conrad brushes a reverent finger down the barrel of a rifle, Mac chides, “We followed through on our end of the bargain. Did you?” 

“Of course.” 

One of the bodyguards pulls out his phone. In a deeper voice than Mac expects, he says, “We can wire the payment to your bank account right now.” 

“Good. My wife will help you set that up.” Mac gestures to Riley, and the bodyguard walks over to her. 

Conrad extends his hand, and Mac takes it, trying not to wince when his arm brushes his concealed gun. “Pleasure doing business with you, James,” Conrad says. 

“I hope this is the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership.” Long and prosper? Who was he, Spock? 

“Indeed. Welcome to the Patriots.” Conrad gestures for his men to start loading the guns into their truck. “Expect another order within the week.” 

Mac doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Riley waves him over, apparently having finished her conversation with Conrad’s lackey. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mac says, then turns his back on the terrorists and rejoins Riley. On instinct, he reaches for her arm as he murmurs, “Are you okay?” 

Riley tenses under his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Good.” He said the same thing to Conrad just a minute ago. Good. But the word is light years different from before—soft and caring, not curt and vaguely challenging. Bozer pointed it out to him once, how he talks to Riley differently than he does anyone else. 

Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t get distracted, no matter how much his mind only wants to think about Riley. Releasing her arm, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Riley settles in on the couch to dig into the Patriots' bank records. By wire-transferring the money instead of paying them in cash, Conrad practically offered up the organization's entire digital footprint on a silver platter, at least to someone like Riley. She doesn't speak as she works, so Mac listens to the melody of keyboard clicks while he makes them each a grilled cheese. 

Contrary to popular belief, he's not completely incompetent, although Bozer has nearly everyone convinced otherwise. Mac will never be able to cook something fancy, but he does make a mean sandwich. 

He even spreads mayo on the bread, the way Bozer does, because Riley prefers it that way. 

The sizzle of the sandwiches hitting the hot pan joins the keyboard clicks right as Riley announces, "I hacked into their bank records." 

"What've you got?" 

"From the look of it, the shell corp they used to pay us has only been around for four months. Before that, they must've either paid in cash or used personal accounts." 

"That makes sense though, since the Patriots haven't been around all that long." 

"That's what I thought at first, but come look." Mac does, leaning over the back of the couch so his head is right beside hers. Riley points at the screen. "The first three transactions were all big deposits, each one two weeks apart." 

Frowning, Mac squints at the tiny numbers on the screen. "One hundred thousand dollars?" 

"Times three deposits," Riley adds. 

"Where the hell did they get that kind of money?"

"I don't know. The deposits were cash." 

“Damn. Did you at least figure out who their previous arms dealer was?” 

“Yeah.” Riley shifts, causing her hair to tickle Mac’s nose, and he brushes her hair to the opposite side of her neck without another thought. “Turns out their previous dealer has Mexican cartel connections, which explains why the Patriots only paid them twice. I’m guessing they found out about the cartel part and broke it off before they made a long-term deal.” 

“At least they’re not complete idiots,” Mac mumbles. Tired of squinting, he leans closer to better see the screen. 

Except now they’re cheek to cheek, and Mac suddenly can’t focus on the screen at all. 

Riley twists to look at him, and it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to glance at her lips. "Are you burning my grilled cheese?" 

"No." He straightens, simultaneously disappointed and relieved by the space now between them. Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t keep getting distracted like this. 

"Uh huh. Sure." 

Retreating to the kitchen, Mac calls, "That was one time!"

*****

As expected, they don’t hear anything from Conrad or the Patriots the following day. Mac doesn’t know what to do with all the downtime on this op. There are plenty of books in the apartment, but he’s too restless to sit and read. He opens the fridge, more out of boredom than actual hunger. 

They’re on day five of the undercover op, and it’s starting to feel an awful lot like quarantine. With nothing to do but hurry up and wait, hanging out in the apartment and doing nothing is starting to make Mac go a little stir crazy. 

When Riley emerges from the bedroom wearing workout clothes, it’s clear she feels the same way. “I’m going for a run,” she announces. 

“Want company?” He hopes she says yes. Anything to get out of the apartment for a while. 

Riley unplugs her phone from the charger and slides it into her pocket. “No offense, but no.” 

Dammit. Mac shoves down his disappointment. “None taken.” He closes the fridge. Nothing in there looks good. 

“Tell you what,” she says. “After I get back we can go to the space museum, okay?” 

His heart skips a beat at her offer. “Is it that obvious I’m bored?” 

“Yes.” Riley gives him a pitying smile. “So do you want to go?” 

Mac smiles. It feels like she just asked him out on a date. It’s not, but it feels like one anyway. Be cool. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” 

“Okay then.” Popping in her earbuds, she walks out the door. 

“Enjoy your run, muffin!” Mac calls, stealing Bozer’s go-to pet name for when he’s undercover with Riley. She reaches back inside to flip him off before slamming the door shut, and Mac chuckles. Riley really hates that nickname.

Now it’s just him, Harley, and this tiny apartment. 

Resuming his search for food he’s not even hungry for, Mac opens the pantry, and Harley comes running into the kitchen. She must’ve learned the sound of the door opening since they keep the dog food in there. Harley looks up at Mac expectantly. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” She whines, and her pleading expression reminds Mac of the wide-eyed look Bozer mastered as a kid while begging his parents for something. Neither are very effective. “You just had breakfast an hour ago,” he insists.  

Harley glances at the open pantry, then back at him. 

Mac doesn’t give in, but he does kneel to pet her instead, scratching Harley’s neck and ending up with a handful of hair. Frowning, Mac digs through every drawer in the kitchen in search of a dog brush. No luck. He checks the bedroom and bathroom, coming up empty once again. Who even organized this house? It makes no sense. His gaze lands on the laundry room door. 

Ah. 

Sure enough, there’s a dog brush on the shelf above the washing machine. 

Leash and brush in-hand, Mac calls out, “Alright, girl. Let’s go de-floof you.” 

Harley takes one look at the brush and sprints in the other direction. 

Well this is going to be harder than Mac anticipated. 

He ends up chasing Harley throughout the apartment, zig-zagging from one room to the next. Every time Mac gets close, Harley slips by, just out of reach. After the fourth time she sends Mac stumbling into the furniture after lunging for her and missing, he realizes what she’s doing. 

Harley is playing him. This is a game to her. And, so far, she’s winning. 

Mac stares the dog down, and she seems to narrow her eyes in response. “Challenge accepted,” he tells her. 

This time, he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—peanut butter. He smears an unnecessarily large glob into Harley’s dog bowl, making sure she sees exactly what he’s doing. Harley’s stubborn, and does a good job of appearing not to care, but Mac has a hard time believing any dog would turn down peanut butter. 

Harley, it turns out, is no exception. 

She follows him to the door, and Mac rewards her with a few licks of peanut butter while he clips on the leash, careful not to let her eat so much that there’s not enough to last while brushing her. Despite Harley’s obvious enjoyment of the peanut butter, Mac is no fool. She let him win this round, no doubt about it. 

He leads Harley down the stairs to the small lawn in front of the apartment building, where it wouldn’t matter if he left dog hair everywhere. The brush pulls away thick chunks of her undercoat with each pass, and it doesn’t take long for the lawn to look like something died there. 

The peanut butter, unfortunately, doesn’t last nearly as long as Mac hopes. 

Mac figures out pretty quickly that Harley does not like her tail being brushed; she turns away and tucks her tail and generally makes it impossible for Mac to reach it. He sits back on his heels, formulating a new strategy. “If I don’t brush your tail,” he says, “you’re going to look like a squirrel, and neither of us wants that.” 

Harley’s ears prick at the word squirrel. 

Mac tries again, and this time Harley lets him…sort of. It’s not perfect, but at least she won’t be leaving hair all over the apartment anymore—hair that he needs to vacuum, because Riley asked him to last night and he’d completely forgotten until now. Tucking the brush into his back pocket, Mac scratches Harley’s ears the way he learned she likes, and when she leans into his touch, Mac’s heart swells. 

“Good girl.” He kisses her head, and Harley licks his chin in return. “See? We’re not so bad.” Mac sighs. “I know we’re not who you wanted, but we’re going to take good care of you.” 

Riley made the same promise in the war room. Even if she doesn’t stay with them after the op, Mac will make sure Harley ends up with people who will love her for the rest of her life. 

“I promise,” he murmurs into her fur, kissing her head again.

Mac startles when a feminine voice calls, “You could make a whole other dog from all that hair.” A middle-aged woman stands in the walkway, oversized blue purse on her shoulder and car keys in hand. She smiles at Mac. “I haven’t seen you before. Did you just move in?” 

“Yeah,” Mac says, standing up. “My wife and I moved in this week.” 

“Well, welcome. My name is Carrie Ann, and my husband and I live in apartment 317. Feel free to stop by anytime. I think you’ll like living here, though I must warn you that it gets pretty loud during football season.” 

Mac nods. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.” He expects Carrie Ann to keep walking—presumably to her car—but she doesn’t, and Mac suddenly gets the feeling this conversation is about to be much longer than he wants. 

“And who is this cutie?” she asks, directing her attention to the dog. 

“This is Harley.” 

Carrie Ann sounds like a squeaker toy, greeting Harley in a voice so high-pitched it’s almost inhuman and petting her without bothering to ask for permission. Harley eyes the woman warily but surprisingly sits still. “I love dogs,” she says at a mercifully normal decibel. “Sadly my husband is allergic.” 

“That is unfortunate.” Mac shifts from foot to foot, eager to escape the small talk. He’s never really had the patience for it. 

Carrie Ann, it seems, is completely oblivious to his discomfort. She prattles on, asking asinine questions about what he does for work, if he’s been to the coffee place down the street, and when she can meet his wife. 

Mac doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when Riley appears in his peripheral vision, as if on cue. “Actually,” he says to Carrie Ann, “you can meet her right now.” Mac flashes Riley a wide, bright smile that she returns half-heartedly, chest still heaving after her run. Sweat glistens on her body, and a few wispy curls that escaped her ponytail are now plastered to her face. “This is my wife, Genevieve.” 

Giving Harley a quick scratch, Riley stands beside him, close enough that Mac can feel the heat radiating off her body. Instinctively, he starts to put a hand on her back, but he quickly pulls away. She’s not wearing a shirt—only a sports bra and those stupidly tight leggings—and the intimacy of putting his hand on her bare skin is too much to handle. “Hi,” she says, completely oblivious to Mac’s internal panic. 

Carrie Ann introduces herself again, and Mac is only half-listening while she and Riley chat. Riley’s so much better at small talk anyway. 

He’s much too focused on how Riley grabs his shoulder to use him for balance while she stretches. She’s so casual about it, like she’s done it a million times before. His skin burns under her touch. 

Mac wants to feel more of her, wants his whole body to feel like that. 

Stop it, he chastises himself. Stop thinking about her like that. 

He can’t. 

Even after Riley lets go, the feeling lingers, and Mac can’t stop thinking about that too. She’s standing slightly in front of him now, almost as if she’s protecting him from their nosey neighbor.

“When are you having kids?” Carrie Ann coos. “An attractive couple such as yourselves would make such beautiful children.” 

Shit. He and Riley never talked about that. 

Before Mac can come up with an answer, Riley pulls his arms around her, a smile blooming on her face. She guides his hands to rest low on her abdomen. “We’re actually trying right now.” 

Mac’s brain short-circuits. 

He blushes, both at the casual intimacy of Riley wrapping herself in him and at the implications of what she just said. Pressing her body fully into Mac’s, Riley looks up at him, smiling like he’s her whole world, and Mac’s heart stops. He’s not breathing. 

His whole body burns, and the feeling is so much more intense than he imagined just seconds ago. 

Alight with mischief, Riley’s dark brown eyes draw him in, and suddenly Mac is picturing Riley with that exact same expression while wearing far less clothing. 

Mac thinks he might die from spontaneous combustion. 

You are so beautiful, he barely stops himself from saying. His blush deepens as he’s snared in the mental image of him and Riley doing said “trying.” 

Their neighbor has the audacity to laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Genevieve. Your husband looks like he’s ready for another round.” 

That makes it worse. So much worse. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust, then he’ll definitely die of embarrassment. It’s not how he wants to die, but it’s better than explaining his reaction to Riley. Because she’s going to ask him about it. Mac knows this—knows this like he knows grass is green and gravity is what keeps his feet on the ground.

As soon as Carrie Ann leaves, Riley does exactly that. She extricates herself from his grasp, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow the way she always does when she knows something’s up. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

Mac’s voice is strained as he replies, “Yeah. I’m good.” 

He is not good. He is definitely not good. 

And Riley knows it. 

This op feels like all Mac’s worst nightmares coming to fruition. Simultaneously. 

Riley can’t know. Her knowing would ruin everything—their friendship, their work, their trust. Mac can hardly look her in the eye. How is Riley supposed to trust him when he’s secretly thinking about her like that? He’s her friend; he’s supposed to protect her from guys who want her like that, not become one of them. 

But god does Mac want to be one of them. Not one of them, he corrects himself. The only one. 

He’s screwed.

.

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[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 17

chapter list / previous / next

In what little free time he was permitted in between patrols or extra long hunting missions, Tallpaw went back to visit Jake several times. All he had to do was say he preferred hunting in the Swift-Step Hills, which led up to the northern borders treeline. Jake was bolder in his exploring now that he knew the way there and back. Tallpaw never let himself stay for very long, only a brief conversation or even a wave hello, but the tiny visits were like a breath of fresh air to him. Any small moment of respite completely disconnected from his life and worries back at camp was sorely needed.

 It was easy enough when he was out training with Dawnstripe, when he was too busy with her to think of much else, but he was still procrastinating a conversation with the tunnelers. Normally he wouldn’t go so close to where he knew their patrols might be working, but he was having trouble finding prey elsewhere. He’d almost given up entirely and began trailing back to camp when he spotted a large doe rabbit hopping erratically back and forth between the hollowed entrances of the tunnelers new passages. It was a newer one, dug through what may have recently been an old rabbit burrow. Tallpaw was able to sneak up on it and kill it quickly while it was looking lost. His paws sank uncomfortably into the newly scratched soil, and he winced at the feeling. He took to avoiding the tunnels altogether recently, afraid of bumping into one of the patrols and not having a graceful excuse prepared for why he hadn’t joined them yet. The last thing he needed was to accidentally collapse some fragile part of an invisible passage, so he left as quickly as he could. 

It was past dawn at this point and the wind was blowing particularly strong today, bringing with it dark clouds from over the mountains, along with the damp taste in the air signaling coming rains. Tallpaw stared up at Outlook Hill, squinting against the light. Fawnleap was standing alone on top, with his claws fastened into the dirt to keep from blowing off his paws. He was stretching his neck up towards the sky, appearing to be deep in concentration. Sparrow was staring up at him from the base of the hill. Tallpaw padded up behind the small dark tom, and set his rabbit down on the ground.

 “What in StarClan’s name is he doing up there?” he asked.

Sparrow didn’t turn to greet Tallpaw, but replied, “He was complaining on and on yesterday about wanting to outgrow his mentor and his siblings. So I told him there was an ancient legend that claimed if you spent long enough in a very tall place and focused all your energy on stretching up towards the sky every day that it would help you grow as much as seven mouse lengths within a season.”

Tallpaw snorted. “That’s nonsense, you can’t just will yourself to be taller. Where did you hear that?” 

Sparrow looked at him “I was telling a joke,” he meowed flatly. 

Sparrow’s tone of voice sounded the same no matter what he was saying. I’m not sure he knows how jokes are supposed to work... Tallpaw thought.

 “Has he been up there all morning?” 

“I think so.”

“You...can’t just tell Fawnleap things like that, he always takes you seriously.”

Sparrow was staring blankly back up at the spotted brown tom, who still hadn’t broken his focus.  “He’s...so stupid,” he breathed, sounding almost awe-struck. 

“Hey, Fawnleap may not be the brightest cat on the moor, but he means well.” Tallpaw glanced sideways at the loner. He still couldn’t get a good read on him like he could the other visitors, who seemed to always wear their emotions plainly on their pelts. “So...how are you settling in?”

“Awkwardly.” Sparrow replied. “Some of you are alright I suppose. I don’t actually mind Fawnleap when he’s not talking my ear off. He’s less prickly than others around here. But I’ll be excited to leave.”

“Oh.” Tallpaw was a little taken aback by the bluntness in his tone when he said that. “Why is that?”

“It feels like you clan cats always have to be fighting someone. I don’t want us to get tangled up in your issues with this ‘ShadowClan.’ I don’t understand why you can’t just let them hunt on the land they want and be done with it. It’s just trees and grass. Is it really worth starting some kind of war over?”

“It’s not that simple. Our land is a part of us, it’s not just anything, that’s why we defend it. We can’t give it away carelessly.”

He caught Sparrow rolling his eyes and Tallpaw flattened his ears, but he was determined not to get into an argument. Maybe Sparrow had a reason to be prickly. They weren’t visiting for happy reasons after all, and Tallpaw tried to muster some understanding for the young loner. “None of you are going to be in danger here. ShadowClan is our problem to handle. Hen is perfectly safe in our camp.”

“Sure…” Sparrow avoided his gaze and Tallpaw saw for perhaps the first time a scrap of emotion from him as a glimmer of worry darkened his gaze. There and gone just as quickly.

“You must be worried about her,” Tallpaw said sympathetically. “It must be hard seeing the cat that kitted you so sick.”

“She didn’t kit me.”

“She didn’t? Sorry, I thought Bess said-”

“She is my mother,” he said firmly, “in every way that matters. I share no blood with any of them.”

“Oh, of course. I guess I just assumed, I mean, I know kittypets get separated from their family often but I thought loners might be different--or whatever you call yourselves.” 

“You don’t even know how strange you clan cats are.” Sparrow sniffed, “I guess it’s easy staying with the cats that you’re kin with. Bess, Algernon, and Reena are after all. but most of the loners I pass don’t think much about blood. You find where you belong best by yourself, and maybe it’s not with who you happened to be born with. I never even knew my blood kin. They’re either dead or left me behind. I don’t really care. There’s only ever been Hen as far back as my memory goes. She’s my family, and I don’t want her in danger. No matter what."

Tallpaw didn’t respond. He could at least understand Sparrow’s loyalty to the old cat, it wasn’t dissimilar to the loyalty a clan cat should feel to the rest of their clanmates, but even so, he couldn’t imagine not knowing his kin at all. They were the cats who brought him into the world after all. But it must be easier choosing who fits you rather than being stuck with someone you can’t please, a small voice hissed in the back of his mind, and he immediately mentally kicked himself for thinking it. How could he be so ungrateful? 

He heard Sparrow mutter under his breath "I just think the others are...too trusting sometimes. It's only luck that we haven’t gotten into much trouble with strangers on our travels so far.”

“Well... Hawkheart knows a lot about healing, and he’s doing everything he can to help her. Even if he’s a bit prickly about it.” Tallpaw said.

“I understand.” It didn’t sound like he actually did. “It must be a big ask for him to help some cat that didn’t happen to be born here.”

Sparrow’s voice made it hard to tell if he was being sarcastic.

Just in case he was, Tallpaw said “if we had more reliable resources it would be easier for us to be generous to every cat, but we only have what our territory provides, and most of the time it’s only enough for us.”

Sparrow narrowed his eyes at him. “Well you had no problem helping that dopey barncat past the moor.”

Tallpaw stiffened.

“I wasn’t following you if that’s what you’re thinking.” Sparrow continued. “You told us to stay near the trees, and Reena saw him wandering around a couple days ago, and then I saw you wandering after him. You don’t sneak around very well.”

“Oh--! Well, that’s--um…” Tallpaw sputtered. He really thought he’d been doing a good job at keeping that secret.

Sparrow rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell your clanmates if that’s what you're worried about. Neither will Reena if you don’t want her to, we’re not tattle-tails. If you want to frolic with a pet, go nuts for all I care. I don’t want to get tangled up in your...weird hang ups about outsiders or whatever. I have no reason to get you in trouble with your dad, I’m not holding a grudge against you for tackling me or anything.”

“Oh. Um.” Tallpaw gulped. “Well...thanks. I think.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be interested in talking to your dad for any reason. That sandy tom is your dad, right?”

Tallpaw blinked. How much had Sparrow been watching to even take note of that?

“I supposed I was worried you’d be just as rude and stuck up to us as him. We all make a point of avoiding him.” Sparrow said.

“I’d thank you not to talk about my father like that.” Tallpaw hissed defensively. “You don’t understand the pressure we’re under, and he’s doing more to protect our clan than any other cat right now.”

Sparrow looked a little surprised at Tallpaw’s shift in tone. Tallpaw was too, but his father was a great cat, and if he was rude to Sparrow it was probably because Sparrow was rude to everyone. 

Sparrow blinked. “Sorry? I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I mean, I figured him being unpleasant was just an obviously observable fact. He snapped at me just for sitting here earlier. ‘Said he had gone all over looking for you and was annoyed that I didn’t know where you were, but I don’t see how that’s my fault. I guess he wants you for something. He’s waiting around camp.”

Tallpaw stared at him, “Wait, was that this morning? Why didn’t you start with that if you knew he was looking for me!?”

“Umm…” Sparrow trilled in thought. “Because I think he’s rude and annoying and I didn’t feel like doing him a favor? I say you should ditch him.”

“For StarClan’s sake! You have a lot of nerve calling any cat rude! I don’t have time for this!” Tallpaw picked up his rabbit and started dragging it around the hill. Before he disappeared into camp, he called over his shoulder, “and tell Fawnleap you made up that story! Clan cats don’t have time to mess around!” 

It must be so easy for Sparrow, never having to defend anything and tagging along with his friends. He didn’t even seem to care much about the other cats in his group save for Hen and himself. Sparrow clearly didn’t know what it meant to care about anything bigger than his own paws. Tallpaw decided it was better not to try making friends with the loner after all, the last thing he needed to be doing was hanging around a cat that was antagonizing Sandstone. If Sparrow wanted to brood off on his own, then he could do what he liked and then he could leave with his friends and  Tallpaw wouldn’t have to think of him ever again. Meanwhile, Sandstone was working his paws off trying to deal with so much. And I should have been back sooner…! His tail drooped, and the brief feeling of respite he’d had traveling to the woods near the farm was swept away. It was irresponsible to be going in the first place.

In camp, Tallpaw was surprised to see Sandstone talking with Dawnstripe. Dawnstripe looked a little exasperated, but she smiled at Tallpaw as he approached.

 He held his rabbit up a little higher as he trotted past them. I hope at least this makes a good excuse for taking so long.

 “Great catch!” Dawnstripe called, “I wish I’d seen it, your hunting is coming along well.”

Tallpaw looked expectantly at his father, who seemed a bit distracted but eventually nodded to him, and to his immense relief he didn’t look angry to be kept waiting.

 “Yes, good job Tallpaw. I’ve been looking for you! I’ve been wanting to talk to you about our project.”

“O-oh, sure ok.” Tallpaw said through muffled fur, and hurriedly went to put his catch with the rest.

“Great news, don’t worry about moor training today. You’ll be joining me on an important excavation,” Sandstone said as soon as Tallpaw scurried back over to them.

“If you want to,” Dawnstripe added quickly. “And only if you have the energy for it after your errand. It’s a sudden change of plans, but Heatherstar has agreed that all apprentices should learn more about tunneling so they know how to be safe around them. Sandstone thinks today is a particularly good day for it.”

“And it is! Now is the perfect time, don’t you agree?”

Tallpaw felt his stomach clench with fear as his father looked into his eyes. This was too sudden. Go into the tunnels today? He hadn’t had time to prepare himself. By habit, he immediately started rushing through his head for an excuse to ease himself out of it. 

Dawnstripe gave him a knowing look. “It only has to be some basics and safety tips, at least knowing what fragile places not to go running over.” 

But Tallpaw knew his father, and he knew there was no way he was going to be satisfied with that.

The look Sandstone was giving him confirmed just that. “We’ll start with the basics and then get more in depth from there. Tallpaw can’t be kept away from his true calling forever, Dawnstripe. I think he’s been patient long enough. He’s waited moon for this!” 

Sandstone’s voice glowed with an almost triumphant pride. Dawnstripe narrowed her eyes at him and Tallpaw suddenly remembered how he’d confessed to Dawnstripe on his first day how much he hated tunneling, but he hadn’t told her about not admitting that fact to his father. 

Before she could say anything, Tallpaw spoke first, feigning a confidence that he didn’t feel. “Alright, I'll try it.”

“Excellent! See Dawnstripe? I knew he’d be excited for it.” Sandstone purred.

 Tallpaw gave his mentor a wide-eyed desperate look. Please don’t say anything about it! Dawnstripe’s gaze was confused, and tinged with concern, but all she did was nod slowly and say, “Well, be careful. Follow all the rules.”

Tallpaw dipped his head to her quickly as Sandstone began herding him away back out of camp. Just one day, I owe it to him to try...maybe it won't be so bad. It was difficult to really believe that. A patrol of Plumclaw, Woollycloud, Crowfur, and Mistmouse were waiting for them. 

Woollycloud blinked in surprise when he saw Tallpaw. “Good morning Tallpaw, I didn’t know you’d be joining us today.” He looked questioningly at Sandstone.

“Glad to see the young cat!” Crowfur said, “the more the merrier. Or the muddier, as I always say.”

Plumclaw winced and rolled her eyes at the terrible joke but she waved her tail at him in a welcoming gesture.

“I caught Dawnstripe before she went out with him again,” Sandstone said. “This will be an important step in our bigger project and I knew Tallpaw couldn’t miss it. When he gets farther in his tunneler training, this will provide invaluable experience.” Sandstone nudged Tallpaw “You're witnessing the beginning of history you know. WindClan’s future will have a reformed network that will make us safer and stronger than ever, and you’re finally going to be a part of that.”

Tallpaw nodded, trying and failing to work up the same level of enthusiasm.

Mistmouse cocked her head “I thought we were just doing another routine check of our recently enforced tunnels today?”

Sandstone shook his head “We were, but as I was inspecting them ahead of time, I noticed the tunnels in the eastern field have finally fully thawed underground and the dampness will make the walls easier to press together without it crumbling. It’s a perfect opportunity to reinforce it before any bad weather.”

Woollycloud narrowed his eyes in concern. “But we haven’t been able to confirm that the soil is stable enough to tunnel there. The moisture could make the roof heavier as well, and there's a rabbit warren very near the area we’d risk disturbing.”

“Don’t worry so much Woollycloud, trust me! It’s perfectly stable, and if it’s not, we’ll deal with it as we always do. But we have a limited window to show Heatherstar real progress so she’ll understand why this is a good idea! Now let’s go. Keep up Tallpaw, I’ll run you through the basics on the way.”

The anxiety pricking at Tallpaw’s stomach didn’t ease much as Sandstone rattled through the rules of tunnel etiquette as they walked. The exact distance to keep between yourself and the tunneler ahead of you, how to pack dirt to the side to keep it out of the way and reinforce walls, how to use your whiskers and nose instead of your eyes to feel the walls of the tunnel and sense the direction you were going, how to feel vibrations that signified the tunnel wall was unstable. He had a faint memory of Sandstone rambling off these things to him as a kit when he practiced, but it had been just as incomprehensible then. When the spiel finished, Tallpaw’s head was spinning and he found the more desperate he was to keep the information in his mind, the faster it would slip out again.

They arrived at the stretch of ground Tallpaw had tried hunting near earlier where the grass thinned out and damp earth poked through in patches. Sandstone led the patrol to a dip and Tallpaw saw a small area where the earth sloped down into a very narrow, very dark, and very cramped looking hole, just big enough for a cat to get through. He gulped.

“It gets wider once you're inside. The entrance is a bit small.” Woollycloud said, clearly noticing the tension in Tallpaw’s body.

“This will be just like the digging practice you did as a kit.” Sandstone said. “We’re going to check out the inside and see which branched off areas are sturdy enough to fix up and expand. This will be the entrance of the tunnel that comes out on the ShadowClan border, if we can get it that far. It will be long and complicated, but that’s intentional. The more confusing, the harder it will be for potential enemies to navigate it."

A whole maze of winding tunnels that a cat could easily get lost in... The ground in front of Tallpaw seemed to yawn like a hungry mouth, waiting to clamp down on him.

“Remember what I told you,” Sandstone continued, if he could sense Tallpaw’s apprehension he didn’t make any sign of it. “Woollycloud will go ahead, then me, and you’ll stick right behind me. Mistmouse will follow behind you at a tail length.”

“And Crowfur and I will go ahead and branch to the right to test out the other path.” Plumclaw added

“And I trust my old apprentice will have no trouble with that.” Sandstone nodded with pride.

Plumclaw led Crowfur into the tunnel with confidence. Tallpaw couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy for the molly, so sure in her paw steps. She had been trained by his father and he always looked at her with approval. Stars, stop being a jealous kit and focus on what’s important right now, mouse-brain! Tallpaw chided himself.

When Woollycloud squeezed into the tunnel, Sandstone nodded to Tallpaw signaling for him to go next. He tried very hard not to visibly seize up as he put his paws at the tunnel entrance and squeezed down it. 

The air became startlingly cooler against his face, and a damp chill quickly began working its way under his pelt. It was somehow even darker than Tallpaw had feared. Light quickly vanished behind them and there was nowhere else for the sun to peek through, or wind, or anything. The walls brushed against his sides, tugging uncomfortably at his fur. He was painfully aware of the weight of the earth increasing above his head as the tunnel sloped downward. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, he repeated over and over.

“See Woollycloud?” he heard Sandstone say “The tunnel walls are still plenty sturdy.”

Woollycloud hummed in response “Perhaps. Mistmouse, the passage up here is too narrow for me, do you think you could squeeze on ahead?”

Tallpaw couldn’t see either of them, but he heard Woollycloud’s loud pawsteps get fainter. His tail twitched nervously and he accidentally whipped Mistmouse on the muzzle, who sneezed as his short hairs tickled her nose.

“Sorry.” Tallpaw croaked.

“It’s alright,” Mistmouse mewed. “I was nervous my first time too, it’s normal.”

Tallpaw felt more embarrassed than comforted, but he hoped she was right and that the thudding in his chest would stop soon. He had to awkwardly press himself to the side, but the lithe molly easily wiggled under him. He was afraid if he pushed the wall too hard, it might buckle.

“Come on, keep up!” He heard Sandstone’s eager mew suddenly farther ahead. Tallpaw hadn’t even noticed that he’d kept walking. “Let's check out this passageway. I think I remember it looping back around to the main path.”

“I can’t see you, where is your voice coming from?” Tallpaw’s mew was hoarse and shaky. Sandstone’s voice had a strange echo to it, trapped and bouncing off the walls, vibrating strangely against his sensitive ear fur. Even the noises down here sounded wrong and cramped. 

“Remember to use your whiskers and your nose!” came Sandstone’s voice. Tallpaw couldn’t think clearly enough to use any sense. He had the distinct feeling any sudden or out of place movement would cause something to break, so he moved stiffly and carefully, crouched over and keeping his head ducked, careful not to touch any wall as if he could pretend that he wasn’t really trapped on all sides so long as he didn’t feel it. His chest was starting to ache as the pounding of his heart bordered on painful. It felt like he had to strain for every breath. He stumbled ahead blindly until he bumped into the stout form of Woollycloud.

 “Don’t focus on what you can’t see,” the tunneler said.  “You’ll soon be able to understand how to detect sound sources in the tunnels, in fact, you’ll be able to detect them even farther than above ground.”

“It feels hard to breathe.” Tallpaw gasped. “Is there air down here?” 

“Yes, we can breathe.” Woollycloud said, a gentle purr rumbling in his chest to soothe the jittery apprentice. “Take deep, slow breaths. The air tastes different, but you won’t suffocate, I promise.”

Tallpaw nodded before remembering Woollycloud wouldn’t see it. Mistmouse had come back to join them, reporting that the tunnel did open up more but the soil of the main path was feeling a bit loose, and she didn’t feel comfortable digging to make it wider. Woollycloud grumbled something to himself

“I-is it safe?” Tallpaw whispered. He was still struggling to breathe normally.

“We’ll have to use the side path, the earth is made of sturdier material.” Woollycloud said. “Your father and I would never let anything bad happen to you. You're safe as long as you're with us. Just keep padding forward, I’ll be right behind you.”

Tallpaw felt the smallest bit better as he adjusted to the dark. The air still felt thick and musty, but his lungs were working. Perhaps it was just in his head. Earthy walls brushed against his whiskers when the path widened and narrowed. He decided to close his eyes so he wouldn’t think about not being able to see, but then he was so focused on the walls that he almost ran into Sandstone.

“Here is where we’ll start digging.” Sandstone said. “This was an unfinished extra passage from moons ago, and it should loop around to the main path. Come put your paws here.” Tallpaw pawed in the dark until his father’s larger paw pressed his against the earth. “Start from higher up and work your way down to create a large enough path.”

Tallpaw obediently started to claw cautiously at the earth. Woollycloud had hung back and Tallpaw heard him sniffing at the walls as Mistmouse squeezed around to join them, her nimble paws already burrowing at the earth in small fast strokes. Tallpaw winced as his claw snagged a rock. The damp earth oozed and clumped uncomfortably under his toes. Every time he felt soil crumble, he winced, wondering if it would take the roof down with it.

“Are you sure it’s stable enough to do this?” he squeaked.

His heart sank as he heard Sandstone let out a short irritated sigh. “Tallpaw, this is my life's work. You don’t know what you’re doing yet. Don’t think, just listen to me and let me guide your claws. I’ll place your paws where they need to be”

“Ok...” Tallpaw mewed quietly.

“It can take half a day to make progress,” Sandstone said. “Slow and steady work. Of course, it’s faster the more paws we have.”

There was a hint in his voice that said ‘paws like yours would make it faster,’ and Tallpaw grimaced. It felt like it had been days already and Tallpaw never quite got over the feeling that the air was too thick to breathe. His shoulders were already sore and he longed to stretch out, but between the body of his father and Mistmouse, he couldn’t. He was stuck in the cramped, stuffy dark, trying very hard not to think about how heavy the world above him was. Just keep digging and stop thinking about it! This was his father's pride. It was important, it wasn’t supposed to be fun. What kind of warrior cared more about what they wanted than what was needed? After a while of shoving his negative thoughts down, he almost started to feel a rhythm for it as his father showed him how to press the earth to the side so it didn’t get in their way. He could space out enough and just focus on the pattern rather than the nervousness fluttering in his belly like a trapped bird. Woollycloud was close behind them focusing on smoothing and pressing down the soil in their wake. Tallpaw couldn’t help but catch a sense of apprehension in him.

“Rabbits used to use these tunnels,” the big tom said to himself. “But all the scent around here is stale. It’s strange, since there should be a warren so close.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Sandstone replied. “They’ll come around again, and this will be an advantageous hunting spot as well.”

“Sandstone,” Woollycloud had a hint of worry in his voice, and Tallpaw froze automatically. “The soil here doesn’t smell like clay anymore. I don’t think we should dig further just yet. Maybe we should change direction.”

“We’re close, Woollycloud, it will be fine.” Sandstone panted. He seemed so eager, so sure, but Tallpaw heard Woollycloud’s tail flicking. Mistmouse had slowed down too.

 Tallpaw was caught up in his father's stride and didn’t quite notice when Mistmouse said, “Hold on, do you smell that? It smells like water. The soil is much wetter here. Have we reached the marshy ground already?”

Tallpaw finally froze in place when his claws squelched loudly as they contacted mud. Something shifted above his head.

“Oh StarClan,” he heard Woollycloud whisper, and in a moment Tallpaw could have sworn his heart stopped beating.

“Don’t start panicking,” Sandstone hissed to him, “Let’s just step back and--”

The earth under Tallpaw’s paw buckled inward, sucking his pads into the ground. The solid seeming roof above his head bowed downward ever so slightly, more ooze than solid. He couldn’t see it, but he felt it. He could have sworn he heard a creak in the earth, a sound that sent a jolt down Tallpaw’s spine. Were there rocks above his head waiting to come loose? Nightmares from his kithood swirled in his vision, the earth cracking, an unnatural rattle of death surrounding him on all sides, promising to sink him into the rotting, choking earth, crushing the air from his lungs and the bones in his body. It all flashed through in an instant, he couldn’t move, he forgot how to breathe, he was frozen, staring at where he could picture the roof of the tunnel bowing down another hair's breadth. 

“Tallpaw, we need to--” 

There was a warning in his father's voice, Woollycloud said something but Tallpaw’s heart had started hammering so loud it echoed in his ears. A tiny clod of dirt fell from the roof and bounced off his muzzle. That was all it took for every bit of tension in his body to break all at once. The panic he’d held back and stuffed down burst forward like a violent flood, and Tallpaw wheeled around with a screech. Whatever was in front of him was knocked to the side, and just behind him the earth growled and the roof started to sink in. Tallpaw heard a screech of fear and pain and he wasn’t sure if it was coming from him or not, he was only able to run, and run he did. 

He couldn’t see and he couldn’t focus on his senses. He tried to remember the way they had come in, but they had twisted and turned so much there was no way to keep it straight and his mind was too shot through with panic to bother trying.

“Wait Tallpaw!” That might have been Woollycloud, or it might have been his father, he couldn’t tell in the echo of the tunnel. “We must stay together! Keep to the right!” they yowled.

Tallpaw screeched as he smashed headlong into a hard wall. Pain flashed through his muzzle, but he barely registered it for more than a second before he was running again. faster faster faster his mind chanted in increasing dread I’m going to be trapped, i’m going to be lost, i’ll be crushed, help, help, please someone help! Where's the light? Where where where-- His own thoughts hardly felt like words anymore as they dissolved into frightened babbling and yowling for a way out of this nightmare. He thought he’d reached a dead end and wheeled around with a ragged wail of fear and helplessness, starting again in another direction, but he was turned around now and he didn’t know if he was running back the way he’d come. He smashed into something he thought was a wall, but it yowled back at him and yanked him another direction with a rough bite to his scruff. 

“That way, you mouse-brain! Keep your head on and go straight!”

Tallpaw was in no position to fight against it and let himself be herded onward by whoever was just at his pawsteps, shoving him left and right, and grabbing his tail hard when he tried to turn the wrong way, until, to the greatest relief Tallpaw had ever felt in his life, light started to enter his vision. It grew until Tallpaw dove out of the hole they had come in through, tumbled over his paws and landed with a thump on his belly, gasping for breath. Plumclaw was standing over him glowering, her ruffled gray fur bristling. “What in StarClan’s name was all that!? Where did you think you were going?”

Tallpaw couldn’t answer. He was panting and shaking too hard. Suddenly all of them were surrounding him, saying things at him, it all just sounded like noise. Tallpaw’s body was telling him to run, and it was a struggle not to give into it. The thing that finally broke through the noise was his father.

“Tallpaw!” Sandstone yowled, and Tallpaw jumped as he realized he’d been yowling for a while now.

“W-What?” Tallpaw wheezed.

“What have I told you over and over? You don’t ever ever panic like that when you're underground! You nearly got Mistmouse seriously hurt and you ignored every order! You’re lucky Plumclaw found you before you ended up completely lost, I told you to stay with me no matter what!”

“M-Mistmouse?” Tallpaw stuttered in a daze. His gaze blearily settled on the small dusty gray tabby. There was a gash just behind her front leg and Plumclaw was beside her trying to lick the dirt from the cut.

“You piled into her and knocked her into the wall when you ran! Don’t you know how dangerous that is? Why didn’t you trust me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know what happened--” his sentence choked off with a ragged gasping cough. His lungs were still not cooperating.

“Give him a moment,” he heard Woollycloud’s voice. “He’s had a fright”

“I’m alright,” Mistmouse offered, though there was a quiver in her voice as well. “It’s not so bad…”

“Don’t make light of the situation, Mistmouse!” Sandstone growled.

“I didn’t mean to,” Tallpaw tried, “I thought I was going to be crushed like--”

He almost said “like Leafshine”, but he caught himself.

“Of course you wouldn’t have been!” Sandstone snapped. “The collapse was only a couple tail lengths long. We could have stepped back and been alright, but we had to help Mistmouse up to get her out and then find you.”

“The important thing,” Woollycloud said, “Is that all of us are here and safe.”

Sandstone took a breath trying to rein in his anger, and gave Tallpaw a withering look. “Tallpaw, but what happened to you in there? Why didn’t you listen when I told you to stop?”

Tallpaw didn’t know what to say. Shame started to replace the panic squeezing at his chest, threatening to crush him the same way the earth had tried to. 

“I’m sorry” he whispered again, feeling his voice had abandoned him along with the rest of his strength. “I don’t know what came over me I was just--I was just so scared.” A flicker of frustration began to burn under the shame and lingering fear. The frustration must have come through if only for a moment as some small, very small, part of Tallpaw was crying out that it wasn’t fair for Sandstone to have expected this. “You were saying so much and I didn’t know how to keep it all straight! I can’t remember everything you say when I only had the morning!” He was surprised to hear it in his voice, as weak as it was. He’d never sounded even a little cross with his father before.

Sandstone glared at him for a long moment. Then he shook his head and fell silent. Tallpaw’s frustration was snuffed out as every long second that passed by sent that crushing shame clawing further up his throat. He expected his father to match his frustration with a bellowing anger, but instead after several agonizing heartbeats, what he finally said was “No...I blame myself.” 

Tallpaw was confused by the sudden change of tone and immediately regretted his little outburst after seeing the hurt on his father’s face. Sandstone had flipped from anger to dejection in a heartbeat.

 “W-what? No, it wasn’t your fault,” Tallpaw stuttered. He was the one that panicked, why would it be Sandstone’s fault?

“I delayed this too long.” Sandstone gritted his teeth. “I expected my kit to be such a natural, you should be more than ready by now, but I didn’t push hard enough against Heatherstar. I let you go on, thinking that you would get sick of moor running on your own and neglected the precious training time you had when you were younger. It’s my fault for not trying harder to prepare you.”

Tallpaw wished desperately Sandstone had just yelled at him, the bleakness in his father's eyes hurt more than anything. 

“No, no, it won’t--!” Tallpaw started, but his voice caught in his throat as the sentence choked before it came out. He almost said ‘it won’t happen next time, next time i’m sure i’ll do better.’ But he didn’t know how to continue. Next time? What next time? How could he bear going down there again?

 Woollycloud stepped forward. “We should go back to camp and let Mistmouse get looked at. We’ll also need to have a meeting between us. I don’t know if these tunnels are going to be able to do what we want them to do.” His voice sounded hard in a way Tallpaw wasn’t accustomed to hearing from the gentle tom. Tallpaw was afraid to look up at him.

Mistmouse walked with a bit of a limp that sent another wave of guilt crashing over the still shaky apprentice. His panic hadn’t just hurt him, but his clanmates as well. He wondered if Ryewhisker and her siblings would be angry with him for putting their mother in danger.

As they walked, Woollycloud leaned down and whispered to Tallpaw, who was trailing behind the group, “It’s alright. This was...a lot to ask of you for your first tunneling experience.”

I should have been able to do this though... He looked after Sandstone miserably. He couldn’t bear to see his father look at him with such disappointment. Tallpaw just wanted him to be happy. But he never would be, not if this is all he wanted his son to do.

chapter list / previous / next

[mascwhump]

Chapter 13 - Turning Blue

My new longest one. 3,371 words.

TW: noncon kissing, noncon touching, choking, guns, blood, noncon drugging (mention)

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @whatwhumpcomments @mnmlover2002 @ashintheairlikesnow

-

Time seemed to slow down. Charlie felt as though shards of ice had entered his veins. He raised his hands and pushed Mallory back before turning away and heading for the basement. He stumbled slightly, a mixture of the intoxication and the tears blurring his vision.

He made it down the steps and slid down against the wall, pulling his legs up and burying his face in them. He hugged his knees and tried to prevent himself from hyperventilating. His ears strained as he listened for footsteps, but they never came.

He ended up on his side, curled up. The tears eventually stopped, and he stared at nothing. The overwhelming sense of confusion numbed his brain. He finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He woke up in a cold sweat to soft fur brushing against him. He was having a nightmare, but he couldn't remember anything besides feeling cold and not being able to breathe. Sasha kissed his nose and he smiled softly as he pet her. She curled up next to him and he was able to fall back asleep.

Charlie slept through the rest of the night. When he woke, he looked over to find a brown paper shopping bag sitting on the floor by the stairs with a note attached. He walked over to it as he stretched and picked up the note.

Charlie,

Went shopping. There are some clothes and some other items for you in the bag. Shave your face.

- M

He scratched his head before setting the note aside and began pulling things out of the bag. There was a razor, a bottle of shaving cream, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a pack of black boxer briefs, a pair of grey joggers, and a white long sleeve t-shirt.

He put everything back in the bag and took it into the bathroom. He started the shower and washed himself, then dried off before opening the razor. He turned on the sink and lathered his face with shaving cream.

He was right about having bruises on his neck. He tried to ignore them as he shaved. The beard he had started to grow was bothering him. It was a small relief to have a clean face, even if he did prefer to keep a little stubble. He rinsed the sink and then brushed his teeth.

Finally, he got dressed, and stepped back into the main room. The door to the stairs was shut. He wondered if Mallory was home. He passed the time by looking at all the different types of alcohol in the bar, then he decided to take a risk and turn on the TV. He'd hear Mallory come down the stairs. He could turn it off before he knew a thing.

Charlie sat on the floor in front of the couch and grabbed the remote off of the coffee table. He clicked on the TV, and was met by the deafening sound of daytime television. He fumbled with the remote to shut it off. Once he did, he sprinted to the other side of the room, acting as though nothing happened.

But the door unlocked and Mallory came down.

"Did you touch the telly?" He asked, arms folded.

"No," Charlie lied.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then what was that noise I just heard?"

"I fell."

"You falling sounds like the telly blaring at full volume?"

Charlie shrugged. Mallory sighed and sat down on the second to last step.

"Your face was starting to look like you had gotten lost in the woods," Mallory said.

"I'd prefer being lost in the woods to this," Charlie mumbled.

"If you're going to speak to me like that, you can at least speak up," Mallory replied.

"Go fuck yourself," Charlie hissed.

He didn't care anymore. Mallory stood and moved right in front of him. Charlie rose to his feet and stared straight back.

"You heard me," he spat, "I said go fuck yourself."

Mallory raised his hand to smack him, but he was able to duck just in time. He moved away and brought his fists up in front of him.

"You're going to fight me now?" Mallory questioned.

Charlie swung and missed.

"Alright, but if you lose," Mallory said as he dodged another swing, "I get to have my way with you."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Charlie asked, moving backwards.

"Don't know yet. We'll see, won't we?"

"And if I win?"

"Then I'll get whatever you want for dinner and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night. I’ll even let you sleep on the bed in there.”

Charlie liked his chances. Mallory was hungover, and he was full of adrenaline. He slipped his shirt over his head and brought his fists back up. He swung, but it connected to Mallory's shoulder. Mallory swung back and managed to get him in the jaw. Charlie shook it off and prepared for another hit, but he was instead forced to the ground. Mallory landed a few hits to his head before he was able to gain his bearings and roll.

They were back on their feet, and he got a few jabs in before Mallory had him on the ground again. This time, he was face down, and Mallory had his arm pinned behind his back. He used all of his strength to push him off, to no avail.

"You motherfucker," Charlie hissed.

"Give up?" Mallory taunted.

Charlie tried again to push him off, but he was sitting on his legs. He couldn't roll, and Mallory was just pulling his arm tighter.

"Fuck, fuck! Okay," Charlie grunted, hitting the ground with his free hand.

They got up and Mallory straightened his clothes, a smirk on his lips. Charlie rubbed his shoulder as he glared at him.

"That was far too easy," Mallory said, "I'm finding it harder and harder to believe that you're some special forces operator."

"Fuck you. I've been in shitty conditions for what, a month now? Of course I'm not at my peak."

"Oh, well. What matters is that I won. I'll be back in a bit," Mallory said before starting up the stairs.

Charlie slumped to the ground and folded his arms. He was pissed, and now he had to worry about what Mallory planned to do with him later. He shuddered at the thoughts in his head. He picked up his shirt from the ground and slipped it back on, suddenly becoming very uncomfortable being undressed.

A few hours passed until Mallory came down again. He turned a dial on the wall which lowered the lights, making them dim, but not enough for it to be dark. Charlie sat in the corner with his knees pulled up. Mallory lifted his hand and looked at his bandaged finger. Charlie’s mind cut to last night, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be brought up.

“I’ve pondered over what I should with you all day,” Mallory said.

Charlie stayed silent. He watched Mallory as he took a seat at the bar and turned toward him.

“We’ve concluded that the data we’ve collected from testing Q-179 is sufficient enough. Now, we will begin working on a version that doesn’t require that special gene,” Mallory explained, “This allows us to begin the testing phase of other serums we’ve created. Like the truth serum, for example.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, don’t worry, love. I’ve realized that I don’t need it,” Mallory said, stepping off the barstool, “because I can get the truth out of you just fine without it.”

Charlie pressed his back into the wall as he was approached. Once in front of him, Mallory motioned for him to stand up with his finger. Charlie slow rose to his feet. Mallory took hold of his wrist and pulled him over to the couch, where he sat him down in the middle. He began pacing in front of the TV.

“We’re going to play a fun game of would you rather. Only, I’ll be asking all of the questions. You have ten seconds to answer. Whenever you take longer than that, it’s a point. You’ll learn what the points mean after we’re through. Understand?”

Charlie nodded just as Mallory’s phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it before putting it to his ear.

“Already? That was quick. Perfect timing, actually. I’ll be up in a moment,” he said into the phone before hanging up.

He walked away and up the stairs before Charlie could ask. Charlie sat with a puzzled expression for a moment. The possibilities of what could be happening frightened him. It was a few minutes before he could hear Mallory talking to someone upstairs. Then, heavy footsteps started down the steps. He held his breath as he waited.

The last thing he expected was for Crow to appear.

Charlie shot up from his seat, but Mallory shot him a look which made him sink back down. He and another man he hadn’t seen before were holding Crow’s arms. His wrists were bound behind his back, and his ankles were tied with rope. A blindfold covered his eyes and a gag was tied in his mouth. They lead him over to the area in front of the TV and the man kicked Crow to his knees.

“This is my associate, Rudy,” Mallory said.

“I’ve been wanting to get a look at you in person since you arrived,” Rudy said, a cruel smirk on his lips.

His curly auburn hair was messy, and his eyes were as dark as coal. Charlie kept his focus on Crow as Mallory began to remove the blindfold. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, they went wide. Charlie did his best to offer a comforting smile.

“I wasn’t expecting this, but it appears he will be joining our little game,” Mallory said.

Rudy moved behind the couch and leaned against the wall. Crow had closed his eyes and his head had fallen forward a little bit. His eyes shot open when Mallory snapped his fingers.

“How much Versed did you give him?” Mallory questioned.

“Enough. I can wake him up for you, if you’d like,” Rudy replied.

Mallory ignored his comment and clasped his hands together before speaking.

“Let’s begin. Alright. Charlie, would you rather be stuck in a tiny closet for three days, or be stuck underwater for two minutes?” Mallory asked.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Charlie spat.

“Ten seconds. Answer the question,” Mallory hissed.

“I-I guess the closet? I don’t know,” Charlie said.

“Good,” Mallory answered.

Rudy snickered. Charlie clenched his jaw. Crow began to shift uncomfortably, and Charlie’s heart ached, knowing how uncomfortable his jaw must’ve been. Mallory paced between Crow and the coffee table.

“Would you rather... be stabbed, or be shot?” He asked.

“Depends where at,” Charlie said.

“Answer.”

“Stabbed, I-I guess? What’s the point of this?”

A muffled sound came from Crow, and Mallory placed his hand on his head. Charlie clenched his jaw.

“Would you rather go without water for three days, or without food for five?”

“You can die after three days without water,” Charlie said, “so, food.”

Rudy stepped over to the bar and started to make himself a drink.

“Hey, no,” Mallory snapped, “I need you cognizant.”

“Aw, no fun,” Rudy sighed as he returned to his place by the wall.

“Let’s step this up a bit, shall we? Would you rather I give him a black eye, or kiss me?”

Crow tried to move, but Mallory held him down by pressing on his shoulders. Charlie began to panic, eyes darting between the two.

“Tick tock,” Mallory spoke.

Crow shook his head. Charlie opened his mouth to speak when Mallory cut him off.

“Time’s up, that’s a point,” he said.

“Wait, I-“

“Shut it. Next question, would you rather I hit you, or him?”

“Me,” Charlie spoke without a second thought.

Crow began shaking his head again, this time more frantically, as Mallory left him to approach Charlie. Rudy replaced him to hold Crow in place. He flicked out a switchblade and held it to his throat. Mallory didn’t give Charlie a chance to protect himself, and reeled back his fist. It connected to the side of his face.

Charlie’s hands flew up to cover his head. He began to taste blood, and felt around to see if another tooth had gotten knocked loose. He realized he had bitten the inside of his cheek. Knowing how Mallory would react to blood on his carpet, he tore his shirt over his head and held it to his mouth as blood began to spill out.

“Aw, did that hurt? Let me see,” Mallory teased.

Charlie slowly pulled the now bloodied shirt away from his mouth. Muffled curses came from Crow as he noticed the amount of blood.

“It’ll heal,” Mallory stated, almost disappointedly.

Charlie put the shirt back to his mouth and glared at him.

“I guess that’s enough for now,” Mallory sighed.

“But it was just beginning to get good,” Rudy whined.

“Oh, I know, but we can pick up where we left off later. Only one point, Charlie. I’m surprised,” Mallory said, “I’d thought for sure you’d get more. Come, Rudy. Let’s get something to eat, and we can discuss what to do with these two.”

Rudy laughed as he followed Mallory, but ruffled his fingers through Charlie’s hair before leaving. Charlie listened as they went up the stairs, then, as soon as the door closed, he raced to Crow. He dropped the shirt on the coffee table and began to undo the gag.

“Charlie,” Crow spoke.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Charlie said softly as he wrapped his arms around Crow.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you before,” Crow said.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I don’t care about that, I’m just happy that you’re alright.”

Charlie moved behind him to undo the bindings on his wrists and ankles. As soon as they were off, they both stood, and Crow pulled Charlie into a hug.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispered, “I’ll get us out of this.”

It was then Charlie realized that they had never hugged before. He never wanted to let go. Eventually, he did, but only because Crow had to sit.

“I’m sorry, I’m really dizzy,” he said, “they’ve had me drugged up since I last saw you.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie said, sitting next to him.

“That Rudy bloke is a real prick.”

“I assumed so. He seems like a piece of work.”

“That’s an understatement. He took over when Mallory left, and he takes ‘power trip’ to new levels. I even heard some of the guards talking shite about him.”

“So he’s a megalomaniac?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Even worse than Mallory.”

The two spent a long time talking. At one point, Charlie felt like they were back home, having one of their conversations at the dining table. He had a sense of comfort that he hadn’t had in a long time.

“What do you reckon that point means?” Crow asked.

“Don’t know, and I don’t want to find out,” Charlie replied.

Charlie got up to rinse the blood from his mouth. After he came back, they both looked toward the stairs when they heard a quiet scratching.

“The bloody hell is that?” Crow wondered aloud.

“Sasha,” Charlie replied.

“Sasha?”

“She’s his cat. She likes to come down here.”

“You mean to tell me he likes animals? That’s surprising.”

Sasha suddenly came bolting down the stairs. The door must’ve been opened. She ran over to Charlie, but stopped when she noticed Crow. She was cautious, but began to consider him.

“I don’t remember saying you could untie him,” Mallory spoke.

Charlie’s blood ran cold. Rudy stepped off of the stairs and stood next to Mallory, holding something behind his back.

“No matter. Charlie, come with me,” Mallory said, then nodded to Rudy, “and you keep him under control.”

Charlie looked at Crow before standing and walking

over to Mallory. Rudy revealed a pistol, and aimed it at Crow.

“Won’t shoot ya if you stay still,” He said.

Charlie followed Mallory into the bedroom, and Mallory locked the door behind them. He took his phone out of his pocket and opened the timer app.

“Each point meant twenty minutes of punishment. Luckily for you, you only got one point,” Mallory spoke.

“Please, I was going to answer,” Charlie pleaded.

“You had ten seconds to answer, and you wasted them. One more word, and I’m adding another twenty minutes,” Mallory snapped.

Charlie backed himself into the wall next to the bed as his heart raced. Mallory took off his belt and snapped it in his hands. Charlie put his hands up, and Mallory swung it at him. It connected to his shoulder with a loud crack. He cried out as he slid to the ground, pulling his knees up and hiding his face in them. The belt cracked against the hand covering his head.

“Get up,” Mallory growled, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to his feet.

He spun him around so his chest was against the wall, and hit him three more times across the back. Charlie clenched his jaw to avoid making a sound, but failed as a whimper slipped through on the third hit. He froze as he felt the leather wrap around his throat. Mallory hooked it through the buckle and pulled tight, pressing his body against Charlie’s back.

“You want this to stop?” He whispered in his ear.

Charlie nodded.

“Too bad.”

He pulled it tighter, and Charlie coughed as he began to choke. He raised his hands and tried to slip fingers inside of the belt to make room to breathe, to no avail. Mallory stepped back and yanked hard on the belt, causing Charlie to fall to the ground. Mallory let go and Charlie gasped for air as the belt loosened. It was short lived, though, as Mallory straddled his legs and gripped the belt again. He pulled tight, and Charlie gripped onto his arm, digging his nails in.

He plead with his eyes as he choked in whatever air he could. His mind raced for some way out. Mallory leaned in a bit closer, just in reach, and he took a chance. Charlie reached up and managed to get his hands behind his head. He pulled him into a kiss.

It worked. He eased his grip on the belt, and Charlie could breathe again. He kept his hold on him. The longer he could, the less time remained. Mallory let go of the belt completely and moved his hand up to Charlie’s face, putting his other hand on the ground to hold himself up.

Charlie did his best to dissociate himself from the moment, but Mallory’s movements prevented him from doing so. His hand left his face and traced down to his chest, where he rested it over his heart. Charlie finally broke away and turned his head to the side. Mallory roughly grabbed his chin and pulled him back, kissing him again.

“Stop,” Charlie mumbled.

Mallory took hold of the belt again and tugged on it. Charlie whimpered and reluctantly kissed him back. He dropped the belt. Charlie fought back tears as Mallory tangled his fingers in his hair. It seemed to last forever before Mallory finally pulled away. He got up and ordered Charlie to do the same. He was thrown against the wall, and Mallory slipped the belt from his neck.

“You’ve convinced me,” he said through his teeth, “but don’t expect that to work again.”

He put his belt back on before opening the door. Charlie followed him out and Rudy lowered his gun. Crow looked as though he was ready to rip Mallory apart, but just had enough self control to stop himself.

“Come on, Rudy,” Mallory said as he started up the stairs.

Charlie waited for the door to close before he fell to his knees. Crow rushed over to him and traced the red marks on his body.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

The tears began to fall. Charlie clung to him, crying into his shirt. Crow pulled him close and rubbed his back.

“Shh, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

[krisdreaming]

PART 2 | A PLAN

｢ Masterlist ｣  |  Next >

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

Summary: Somehow, you ended up agreeing to bring your non-existent boyfriend to the family Christmas gathering at your grandparents’. Your chem lab partner and fast friend, Kuroo Tetsurou, agrees to play the part. Your developing feelings for him won’t cause any problems, right?

WC: 1.7k

A/N: As you’ll (maybe) notice there are a few small tidbits I lifted from the original fic, but this is very different from it in a lot of ways! I hope it isn’t seeming too repetitive for those of you who have read the first one. Also, I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I promise it’ll really get going in the next part.

You plan to meet Kuroo at the coffee shop again a week later. This time, you beat him there, which gives you the perfect opportunity to gather your thoughts. As you wait in line to order, you remind yourself for the hundredth time that this is really happening. Kuroo Tetsurou with his messy hair and his teasing jabs and that stupid smile has agreed to spend three whole days pretending to be your boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

Luckily, before your mind can concoct an answer, your turn to order comes up. Remembering last week, you order a cup of black coffee in addition to your usual macchiato. It’s a french roast, described as “dark and bold” on the menu. For the guy who reminds you daily that adding anything to coffee is only for the weak, it seems fitting. The comment is always paired with a teasing wink that shoots right to your middle, but that’s definitely not what you need to focus on as you carefully carry the two mugs to a table by the window.

You get situated and you’ve just taken your first sip when Kuroo plops down across from you. “Hey.”

“Hey! Here,” You push the mug in his direction.

“Oh,” He peers into the mug and gives a small, approving nod, “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s for last week,” You say with a wave of your hand, watching as he lifts it to his lips and takes the first sip. When he sets it back down, he holds the mug in front of himself with both hands.

“You were right,” He says suddenly, “This coffee shop is better than the one on campus.”

“Oh really?” You grin smugly.

“Don’t look too proud of yourself,” He laughs, lifting his mug and taking another sip, “You’re the one who has to hire a fake boyfriend.”

“I didn’t hire you,” You snap back quickly, “And it was your idea, if you’ll recall.” You sigh, propping your chin on your hand. Judging by the expression on his face, he’s already enjoying this far too much.

“Details, details,” He waves his hand. “Doesn’t matter. I am curious, though. Why exactly did you tell your family you have a boyfriend when you don’t?” The question comes from a place of genuine curiosity, but you still feel your cheeks begin to burn. You glance down into your own mug so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“It just gets old, you know?” You mumble to your coffee. “Having everyone ask about it at every family gathering. It seemed so easy to just make up a tiny story. It wasn’t supposed to get this big,” You laugh weakly. “I know it was stupid to lie. I guess I just didn’t want them to be disappointed in me.”

“I get that,” He says softly. “But hey, what do you need me to do?”

You shrug. You haven’t thought about that end of things as much as you probably should have. “Just... be my boyfriend. Charm their socks off. I know you’ve got it in you.” You chuckle. “It’ll be nice to have someone there,” You add after a beat.

“Yeah?” He says, leaning in a little closer. You’re a bit surprised by how much he genuinely seems to care. Half of you had expected him to treat this whole thing like it’s a big, elaborate joke.

“A lot of my cousins have significant others already. Maybe that’s why I felt like I had to make one up. Sometimes I just feel like the odd one out. Don’t get me wrong, I love them,” You add quickly, “But it’s just…”

“I get it,” He saves you from your floundering. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there. And as an honorary grandson, tell your grandma she can feed me as much as she likes.”

You stifle your laughter behind your fingers. “You think it’s a joke, but she might just take that as a personal challenge,” You shake your head, already feeling a little bit lighter. “Anyway, we need details, don’t we? About our ‘relationship’?” You lift your hands to make exaggerated air quotes.

“Probably a good idea,” He nods, “How awkward would it be if our stories didn’t match?”

“I’d rather not think about it.” You squeeze your fingers tighter around your mug. “So we started dating a few weeks into the school year, I guess?”

“Sure, makes sense,” He props his chin on his fist, his lips curling into a half smile as a teasing tone cuts into his voice, “And was it love at first sight?”

You think back to that first day of class. You’d been running late because you were having trouble finding the room. You’d slid into one of the few open seats left, next to that ridiculous head of hair, and you’d glanced at him in a silent apology as he flashed you a quick smile. Love? Probably not, but you can’t forget the slight leap you’d felt in your middle and chalked up to nerves.

“Why not?” You say lightly instead, adopting his teasing tone. “And for our first date… we saw a movie, then came here for coffee after. That’s normal, right?”

“Sounds like it to me,” He shrugs. “And you can call me Tetsurou. I don’t mind. Or even Tetsu.”

You think about it for a moment, mentally testing the words on your tongue. His full name seems strange enough, never mind shortening it to a nickname. “Tetsurou,” You clear your throat, “Tetsurou is fine. Thanks. And you can call me Y/N.”

“Perfect. Y/N.” He says it experimentally, a strange small smile on his face. Something in the air between you feels just a little heavier, but you push forward before you can think about it too much.

“And I should warn you,” You run your fingertip absently around the edge of your mug, “My grandma is going to show you every single photo she’s ever taken of me. Last year, it took her almost an hour to get through them with my cousin’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, perfect, I was running out of things to make fun of you about,” He just barely dodges your hand as you reach across the table to swat him.

“And my family loves all kinds of games, so we’ll probably end up playing a lot of different ones,” You continue, choosing to ignore the playful jab. “So I hope that’s not too boring for you.”

“Are you kidding? Boring is sitting at home with my dad and eating the dinner he ordered from the store. Honestly? I’m looking forward to this. Christmas with your family sounds kind of like paradise.” He looks into his mug for a few moments before lifting it to his lips and draining the last swallows. “If you want the truth, I think you’re pretty lucky.” He finishes softly.

Your breath catches in your throat for a few moments. You forget, sometimes, that not everyone has a close, crazy, embarrassing family like yours. You open your mouth, but before you can come up with a response, his expressions shifts back to his easy smile as though he hadn’t said a word.

“We’re going to have a great time. I won’t let you down,” He lifts his hand, pinkie extended, and you don’t catch on right away. “Promise,” He prompts, sticking his hand out a little further. After a moment of hesitation, you reach out and link your pinkie with his. He grins.

“Thanks. Hopefully I don’t let me down,” You say with a chuckle, pulling away and lifting your mug to swallow the lukewarm dregs in the bottom. “I should be getting back,” You say as you set the mug back down, “I have a history exam before break starts, and I really need to study for it.”

“I should get back too, I have an assignment due tomorrow that I haven’t started yet,” He admits sheepishly.

“Tsk, tsk,”  You tease as you push back your chair and stand, knowing full well that you’re the last person who can scold him for procrastinating. Judging by his incredulous expression, he’s fully aware of that fact. Side by side, the two of you step out into the early winter darkness.

“Really though, thanks for helping me out,” You say as you start making your way down the sidewalk, your words puffing steam into the air, “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” He knocks his arm against yours. “To be honest, after all your talk about your grandma’s cooking, I might have tagged along even if I didn’t have to pretend to be your boyfriend,” He laughs.

“You certainly won’t go hungry,” You agree, “She’ll make sure of that. Just don’t blame me if it affects your volleyball physique.”

“Don’t worry, I’m naturally slender,” He pats his middle, “I’ve got the quickest metabolism you’ve ever seen.”

You shake your head with a chuckle. “If you say so.”

The remainder of the walk back to campus is relatively silent, the two of you walking with your hands shoved down in your pockets against the cold. Occasionally, his arm brushes against yours. It’s nice in a way, just being next to him like this. You don’t feel any pressure to fill the silence with mindless chattering, and he obviously doesn’t either. You’re content to just walk together through the chilly night.

Winter break starts in less than a week, and you and Kuroo will be leaving for your grandparents’. In an odd way, you’re looking forward to this. Of course you always enjoy spending the holiday with your family, but knowing that Kuroo will be there too has you anticipating it just a little more than usual.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it takes a few moments to realize you’ve come to a stop in front of your dorm building. “Alright, guess I’ll see you in class Tuesday,” Kuroo says, lifting his hand in a wave.

“See you then,” You wave back, watching his retreating back for a few moments before turning to go inside. You close your hand into a light fist at your side, remembering the feel of his pinkie linked with yours. It isn’t until you’re back in your dorm that you realize that, despite the long walk in the chilly evening, you don’t feel cold at all.

[iamtheblondestblonde]

Clear as Day

 Part One?

AN: Here’s some friends with benefits with Vince that I came up with in between cases at work. Vince if you’re reading this I’m so sorry please stop right here but also hmu I swear I just wanna be friends. I don’t know much about being a pediatric nurse (financial law anyone?) but I did volunteer at a hospital for a while so I hope it’s not super far off. I have plans and some stuff written for a part two that could be the same length so let me know you want one but it could be complete like this. (First person narrative but again no names or descriptions for the mc)

Warnings: language, definitely (also English isn’t my first language so perhaps some mistakes) and smut, also definitely (yes you read that right I did it again)

Word Count: 13.3k

I loved my job. I really did. I found it rewarding to be able to make tiny faces light up but I was currently on my second day of 12 hour back to back shifts, with yesterday closer to 14 hours, and I just really wanted to spend the entire day in bed.

It wasn’t even 7 a.m. yet and the streets of Toronto were already bustling, everybody preparing for a busy day. The sound of the ice cubes sloshing around in my coffee had become a staple background noise for the walk from the employee parking lot to the front entrance of the hospital, it soothed me.

As soon as I stepped into the building I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face, despite being sleep-deprived and basically needing a break already. There was a new drawing pinned to the wall by the nurses’ station and if the image of my smiling face wasn’t a dead giveaway already, it was hard to miss my name written on top of it in big bold letters.

It had started out as a joke really, a half-hearted complaint about me not getting as many drawings as others because most of my patients didn’t stay long in the ICU. From that moment on Lucas, my only long-term patient right now and all-time favorite teenager, had made sure that there was always a new one waiting for me every week. He was really good at drawing as well and I had an entire stack of amazing portraits, landscapes and lots of other random things at my apartment that I cherished dearly.

“He wanted to give it to you himself but then we had to give him something and he asked me to put it up so you’d see it as soon as you got in.” I turned around to see Mariah standing behind me, her face showing the same look of fondness as mine. Most of the nurses were pretty convinced that he had a crush on me and while I had to face lots of playful jabs because of that, she never gave me shit about it. She was probably about to head out and I knew that she only stayed behind to tell me this so I made sure to thank her.

“Is he up yet?”

“Surprisingly not, although he should be soon. He’s had a rough night and he stayed up way too long to draw but I doubt that anything could ruin this day for him, two dreams coming true and all.”

As soon as her words registered with me I mentally facepalmed, I’d completely forgotten that we’d get a visitor in a couple of hours. Because of Lucas’ surgery he hadn’t talked about hockey all that much lately, so I’d kind of forgotten that today he would get to meet one of his idols. I was about to respond something when I spotted Sydney waving me over.

Sydney was in charge of all of the pediatric nurses during the day shift, meaning that I had approximately three seconds to make my way over before she’d get impatient because she was always so busy. I waved goodbye to Mariah and speed walked over to Sydney, curious to see as to what she needed of me. She never beat around the bush, always coming straight to the core of things so I didn’t expect the conversation to last long and today was no different. She probably held the world record for fastest talker.

“So you know we’re getting a visitor today which means that I need someone to run a tight ship for me. You’re young and perky and I asked around and people love you. I know you helped with some of the Leafs the last time so you should already be familiar with the protocol. This is a big hospital and I want all of the kids on the list to get a chance to talk to Mr Dunn and that won’t happen if he gets lost so I want you to stay with him at all times, got it? I’ll get one of the on-calls to take over for you during everything.”

I couldn’t even get a word in before her pager went off and she jogged off after practically thrusting a file into my hands, unable to respond anything as she said something over her shoulder about this being a gift. I stared after her with my mouth hanging wide open, not really comprehending what had just gone down yet.

Being ‘young and perky’ had apparently just managed to get me demoted from a RN to a babysitter for yet another over-confident celebrity which didn’t really feel like a gift at all.

Lucas had told me all about how great this Vince apparently was but I had seen my fair share of famous people walking around these halls with camera teams following them, it was kind of a part of working with sick kids. There were exceptions of course, some of them were really nice but those were usually the ones that didn’t visit the kids for some good PR. While I was glad that it would make Lucas happy it didn’t really impress me anymore.

Besides I hadn’t really paid attention to hockey ever before, although it was hard to escape the hype right now with me being a St. Louis native. Some of my friends had sent me pictures of the parade from about a month ago but I hadn’t really paid much attention because I’d been slammed with work, not recognizing any of the players either way.

The file Sydney had given me consisted of a schedule for the day and a list of the kids that wanted to meet Vince, which was surprisingly long for this being a hospital in Toronto and him playing for the Blues. Even with my limited, read non-existent, hockey knowledge I was pretty sure that the team wasn’t liked very much in the league but I blamed it on them winning. Sydney was right, we would have to make good time to get through everybody.

I couldn’t exactly spend forever going through the file because I had mostly new admissions assigned to me and that meant lots of charting and running tests. I did spend my break reading through everything and trying to come up with a plan while shoveling food to my mouth at record speed however. Even if I wasn’t exactly thrilled with this assignment there was absolutely no way I wouldn’t be prepared. I would leave this hospital with the best possible impression of me, all things be damned.

It was kind of hard to focus on what was written in front of me though when I had three other nurses standing close by and ranting about how hot Vince apparently was. Lucas had shown me his hockey card a few times but I didn’t really know what he looked like because I was usually busy putting in a new IV line at the time, something he’d come to hate so talking about hockey was the perfect distraction. I was tempted to google him but before I got the chance my pager went off, signaling that the incoming convoy was about to arrive.

Unable to stop myself I checked my reflection quickly in one of the mirrors on my way out of the restroom. Call me vain but I didn’t want to end up in any pictures or videos looking like a total slob, even if it was just in the background. I’d taken the time to shower this morning but I definitely would’ve added more than the layer of concealer if I’d known about this earlier. At least I’d gotten my brows done and my lash extensions refilled a couple of days ago. Deciding that it was too late to do anything else about it I walked towards the front entrance with the file in my hands, making sure one last time that I knew where to take this Vince first.

It wasn’t hard to spot him in the group that arrived, the big shiny trophy he was lugging around kind of a dead giveaway.

He was good-looking, I had to give him that. Not in the rugged handsome way however, it was more of a defined features and beautiful way. The kind of look that got you dubbed as a pretty boy during high school, the polo shirt he was spotting only reinforcing that image.

I couldn’t really imagine him playing ice hockey. He was fit of course, but he wasn’t as big and bulky as I’d thought and if I had to guess I’d peg him as a baseball or lacrosse player, perhaps soccer even. If all hockey players looked like him however, I might have to catch a game or two after all.

I walked over with my big work smile plastered on my face, hand outstretched and he set the cup down to shake it as I introduced myself first. I caught him looking me up and down quickly but I wasn’t really one to talk because I’d done the same exact thing just seconds earlier.

“Hi I’m Vince, nice to meet you. Love the scrubs by the way”, he responded with a dazzling smile, gesturing at my outfit. Compliments weren’t a bad start, especially since I was wearing one of my favorites with an adorable blue and pink dinosaurs print.  

“Thanks, one of my friends paints them for me.” Not willing to dwell too long on awkward small talk I continued: “Do you want me to get like a wheelchair for the cup or are you gonna carry it the entire time?”

“I think I’d get a lot of shit for not carrying it so thanks but no thanks.”

I quickly introduced myself to the rest of the team before herding everyone towards the elevators because he had to be upstairs in a couple of minutes. The camera team was more intimidating than I’d thought and I tried my best to distract myself from it as I pointed out different things around the hospital, only hoping that I wasn’t rambling without making any sense.

I was pretty sure that Vince could tell that I was uncomfortable because he kept our conversation going the whole time, obviously trying to make me laugh. His own laugh was hard to ignore and by the time we walked into the room where a livestream would take place the smile on my face was real. At least he wasn’t just easy on the eyes but he seemed fairly entertaining so far as well.

I watched him do the stream with Owen, who I’d spent some time in post-op with after his surgery a couple of weeks ago, and then stood close by as he talked to the long line of patients and people who were able to come up here. Sometimes when he saw a special needs kid getting closer he’d turn to me to ask for advice and tips and even all that ruckus didn’t stop him from keeping up a normal conversation with me.

He’d pick up right where we left off whenever there was a small break in between people and I wasn’t only amazed at his multitasking, but also at how amazing he was with the kids. He made me show him how to hold a baby and I think I’ll never be able to forget the image of a cute little baby boy in the cup.

“I ate cereal out of there this morning”, he whispered conspiratorially to me after the mother was finally done thanking him and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Of course you did. I hope you put it in the sink afterwards at least.” He gave me a wounded look, as if me insinuating he was not a clean person was hurting his ego and I laughed even more. I couldn’t really tell if he was trying to flirt with me or if he was like this with everyone but the mixed signals he’d sent me all afternoon were starting to get confusing.

“You think so lowly of me, I thought you’d know better by now.” With anyone else the wink he sent me as he delivered his line would have probably been overkill but somehow it worked for him.

The fact was that I did know better by now, even if it had only been just under two hours. I probably hadn’t been this wrong about something since I absolutely botched a math test in tenth grade thinking I aced it and he had turned out to be nothing like I had imagined him to be. Perhaps the early morning sleep-deprived me lacked the sense of being able to assess character that I usually had.

When I told him that it was time to leave he looked at me with a puppy eyes, pleading with me to let him stay a little longer. Working in pediatrics I got this a lot but somehow it had a whole different effect on me coming from a 6 feet tall hockey player with lips that were practically made for pouting.

“But there’s still some people left that I haven’t gotten to.”

“There’s also some kids that couldn’t come up here because they are too sick waiting for you in the ICU and you won’t be able to see all of them in time if we don’t go over there now. There’s a tight schedule for a reason you know.”

“Fuck the schedule, I’ll just stay longer,” he said with a cheeky grin but not before covering the ears of the little girl in front of him with his hands so she wouldn’t hear him curse. At this point I felt like it was way too easy for him to make me laugh but at the same time I didn’t really want to do anything against it. These halls had seen worse things than people laughing after all.

“You fit right in with all of my patients, you know that? And don’t you have plans with the cup for this evening?”

I didn’t get an answer straight away because Vince took his time to talk to the last five families left in line before we made our way back to the elevators. I had kind of forgotten about the camera crew that was there to document it all until all of us were crammed back inside the tight space, my shoulder brushing against Vince’s arm so I wouldn’t bump into any of the expensive equipment.

“I promised to make an appearance at this club but they’ll wait for me. By the way, you should come as well.” At first I thought he was joking, surely he had to be as we’d only met, but his try at a winning smile told me he was anything but. Again, was this him flirting or was I losing my mind?

“Shooting your shot while you’re in my good graces because of the kids, I see. I’m gonna have to disappoint though, I’m stuck here till seven and then I have another 12 hour shift coming up tomorrow so I can have a four day weekend.” I had already kind of accepted that we would never see each other again, especially with me turning him down now, and I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a bit sad about it.

“That sounds brutal. I’m throwing another party at my condo on Saturday if you’re free then.”

“I’m actually driving up to a lake house with some friends for the weekend, sorry.” By now I really was interested because he seemed fun and I wanted that for my last few weeks up here but his timing was truly the worst.

“Wow, you’re really making me work for it,” he let out a teasing chuckle then, running his hand up and down his neck in a very distracting move as he contemplated his next words “I’m assuming you have a busy week next week as well so perhaps next Saturday?”

“Ummm.. I already agreed to meet some friends at a bar on that Saturday,” his face fell at that so I couldn’t help but add “but you’re welcome to meet us there if you want to see how the working class parties. Bring some of your friends as well if you want.”

The smile he gave me at that was equivalent to that of a five year old patient when they get told that they could have a slice of the chocolate cake and it made me glad that there was no one monitoring my heart rate at the moment.

-

The next day was just another regular day at work and while I had lots of fun yesterday, I was glad to be back in my comfort zone. Working days was anything but boring and I had been so busy that my watch told me I’d already reached my step goal for the day halfway through my shift.

I finally had some time to update the charts while sitting down at the nurses’ station, desperately hoping for some down time soon so I could perhaps even grab another cup of coffee to stop me from climbing into a free bed and taking a nap right there.

I’d seen many people pray in this building and not all of them got what they wished for but somehow today must have been my lucky day because just as I’d finished that thought someone cleared their throat in front of me. I was ready to answer some questions from worried parents but what I totally didn’t expect was Vince standing there with two coffee cups.

“I thought I’d drop this off as a thank you for babysitting me yesterday and I had a feeling that you’d need it”, he said before giving me one of his dazzling smiles. He looked good in a black t shirt and some jeans, his perfectly styled hair in contrast to the messy bun currently on top of my head. That is if the rat’s nest could even still be called a bun.

“Vince Dunn you just keep on surprising me”, I responded with a breathless laugh, not really knowing what else to say at the sweet gesture. What do you say to a good-looking hockey player that not only asks you to spend time with him three times but also takes the time out of his day for this?

Well, besides thanks, obviously.

Vince handed me one of the cups and I took a sip before looking up at him in surprise.

“How do you know the way I like my coffee?”

Instead of answering, he pointed at something behind me and I turned around to see the coffee order list I’d started a while ago in case someone decided to grab some for everyone, my name on top of the sheet.

“I noticed it yesterday in passing, I swear I’m not a stalker or anything.” He blushed at this and it was so cute and unlike his otherwise smooth self that I couldn’t just let him off the hook.

“You know, that’s exactly what a stalker would say”, I responded with a sly smile and while his face turned even more red he burst out laughing. By now we had the attention of every nurse close by and I was pretty sure that all of them were eavesdropping but who could blame them, I’d do the exact same thing. People here lived for the drama, kind of a given with how much time we spent in here because it didn’t really leave much space for a life outside of these halls. Especially if said drama involved a very hot hockey player.

“I’m changing the topic now before I embarrass myself in front of you even further just so you know. I did actually come here for one more thing,” he trailed off before bending down to pick up a bag that I hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by the guy in front of me. “I brought this for Lucas so he has something to show his friends once he gets back on the ice.” He pulled out a Blues’ jersey and turned it around so I could see that it was one of his, complete with a signature and a small message.

Lucas had been an avid hockey player himself up until his kidneys basically decided that they didn’t want to work anymore a while ago. Things had gotten so bad that he had to permanently stay in intensive care with us until after months of dragging people in here to get tested they finally found a donor in a family friend last week. At least his surgery had gone well and while I’d miss having him around, I was glad that he’d finally get discharged to recover at home later today.

I took another sip of the coffee before getting up and walking next to Vince to Lucas’ room. Lucas greeted me with a smile, which only grew after he saw who was following me into the room. Despite having struggled for so long he had always been in a good mood, even when he had to celebrate his fifteenth birthday in the hospital a few weeks ago.

“Look at you, it’s your last day in here and things just keep on getting better.” Vince and Lucas did the handshake they’d come up with yesterday, something that was absolutely necessary as a hockey player or so I’d been told.

Lucas had grown up in Chicago and he’d seen Vince play for the team there but had only really started paying attention after the apparently best fight ever Vince had gotten into at one of the games. Obviously not my words. The connection between the two of them had been instant and all the hockey talk had my head spinning more than during the first few weeks of nursing school so I made a quick exit, leaving them to it.

“I bet every nurse wishes they could trade spots with you right now, me included by the way”, Rachel, my partner in crime since day one of our college classes together, said as soon as I returned to my spot at the station.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, I responded, acting clueless. With a raised brow she reached for my coffee cup, spinning it around to reveal a small note written on the side of it that I hadn’t even noticed before.

“You sure about that? This fine specimen of a hockey player just gave you his number and you still act like there’s nothing going on? Besides, everyone saw you two getting all chummy yesterday.”

I snatched the cup out of her hands, quickly checking if the coast was clear before pulling out my phone to add his number to my contacts while keeping my head down so I wouldn’t have to look her in the eyes.

“Oh wipe that shit-eating grin off your face. All I get is annoying parents and you get hot dads and famous athletes hitting on you out left and right. Like leave some for the rest of us girl, it’s not fair.”

-

Even though I’d shot Vince a quick text so he could have my number as well, I never really expected anything more than his response that he’d saved it.

To say I was surprised when he texted me the following week was definitely an understatement. It wasn’t a booty call either, no, he’d texted me in the middle of the day asking if I was working days or nights this week.

Me: days as usual but I’m actually on-call today, got luckyy

Dunner: so you’re home right now?

Okay so perhaps this was a booty call after all. Not that I particularly minded.

While his first response had been pretty fast he took a little longer to answer after I told him that I was home indeed. Laying on the couch in an oversized shirt and yoga pants rewatching some Grey’s Anatomy on to be exactly. Almost the same as working. The rainy weather set the perfect mood for a lazy day in though so I hadn’t moved from my spot ever since returning from the gym this morning.

Dunner: this Chinese place near me has a special two for one offer today and I wanted to bring you some to work

I still wasn’t sure if this was him flirting but I’d also never had somebody I’d only met a week ago offer to bring me food to the hospital so he had to be, right? I sent a screenshot of the message to Rachel but I knew that I couldn’t count on her responding to it anytime soon, seeing as she was actually at work right now. I decided to be forward, telling him that I wouldn’t complain about some good food either way.

Inviting someone who was basically a stranger over to your apartment generally wasn’t exactly the best idea, but I counted on the impression I had of him so far and the reputation he surely had to uphold as a NHL player. Besides, we had lots of medical equipment scattered around the apartment so surely I’d find a syringe or something to defend myself if needed.

Dunner: I’ll be over in 30 so try not to get called in before then  

True to his word the bell didn’t ring much later. I’d debated making an effort and changing but I wasn’t about to wear jeans or a skirt to hang out so that didn’t leave many options. Brushing your hair wasn’t nothing either so that counted in my opinion.

Vince had gone through the same train of thought as well apparently because he looked super cozy in some sweatpants and a hoodie that had gotten slightly wet, presumably from his walk from his car to the building as our parking situation was really shitty. He stepped inside and reached up to run his hand through his damp hair before shaking his head, making little droplets of water fly in every direction.

“This is why they don’t allow dogs in here”, I laughed, gesturing to my shirt that now looked like an abstract splash painting.

“Let me make it up to you with some of the best food you’ve ever had because I brought lots” was his response as he lifted the bag of take out while slipping off his shoes by the door, hair now sticking in all directions.

“Alright Dunner, show me what you got”, I said with a wink over my shoulder as I made my way into the kitchen, continuing my bold streak from earlier. I had also learned by now that nicknames were even more important than handshakes as a hockey player. I was pretty sure I’d heard him mumble something along the line of ‘Gladly’ but I was already too far ahead of him to be absolutely certain.

“You’re watching Grey’s Anatomy? Isn’t it like crazy inaccurate?”, he asked with a look at the TV in the living room as I hadn’t bothered to pause the episode.

“Yeah of course it is but I still like it somehow. It’s like the hospital equivalent of bad trash TV shows so it’s kind of my guilty pleasure.”

“Okay give me a quick summary of what I need to know for this episode so we can watch it while we eat.”

I looked at him like he was crazy but he urged me on, looking up at me expectantly from where he’d sat down on the couch. Eventually I gave in, trying to keep explanations as short as possible but even then it took me quite a while to get through, yet Vince never once looked like he was bored. He didn’t lose his interest in it after that either, only looking away from the screen to decide what he was going to eat next, all of the choices delicious just like he promised.

Stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving the both of us stayed unmoved on the couch watching episode after episode. Somehow my legs had ended up on his lap and his hands were resting on my knees, drawing slow circles as we made eye contact from time to time. Every few minutes his hand would inch up a little and with him biting his lip as he did it there was no way I would stop him, any doubts about his intentions long gone by now. I couldn’t stop the smile spreading on my lips as his hand finally reached the top of my thigh, softly kneading the sensitive part on the inside. If I was into hand porn, I would have orgasmed already at the sight of his hands wrapped around my thigh.

“What are you grinning about?”, Vince asked with an easy smile himself, looking at me in a way that told me that Meredith had long lost his attention.

“Just waiting for you to finally make a move.”

“I was trying to be somewhat of a gentlemen but I really can’t help myself with you wearing those pants..”

“Well you seem to be awful at it so don’t be one then”, I teased back feeling confident yet again.

In a flash he had somehow - I’ll probably keep wondering about the details for the rest of my life - managed to lift me up enough to shift me so I was straddling his lap, now turned on by his manhandling and the way he was currently looking up at me. For a second both of us stared at each other, trying to figure out if this was really going to happen. Vince lifted his hand from my hip to my face, slowly pulling me down towards him.

Our lips didn’t even get the chance to connect before my phone started ringing.

I jumped up from his lap, immediately recognizing the ringtone I had set for all work calls and almost kneeing him in the crown jewels in the process. One look at my screen told me that it was an emergency which prompted me to run into my room cursing. I quickly pulled on the pair of scrubs I’d laid out in the morning, one hand still pulling the top down while the other was trying to attach my badge properly by the time I made it back into the living room. Vince hadn’t even moved from the couch yet, eyes wide and legs still comfortably spread apart, a sight that made me want to climb back on top of him but unfortunately I couldn’t do that.

“I’m so sorry but I gotta go, you don’t need to rush though. Feel free to keep on watching if you want but please don’t rob us and make sure the door is closed if you decide to leave after all, it locks automatically. The food was delicious thank you very much and bye!”

I barely heard him saying bye as well before I was already through the door, not really looking forward to spending the next few hours in the chaos that usually came with emergency calls. Especially after how much I’d enjoyed spending time with Vince and how much I wished that we would’ve just skipped all of the testing-the-waters stuff and would’ve just went at it like madmen.

-

The weekend couldn’t arrive fast enough and by the time it was Saturday I was ready to abandon all of my plans so I could sleep the rest of the day. I’d gotten in late last night after working overtime and I probably would have stayed in bed till noon if it wasn’t for Rachel and Mariah bursting into my room at nine in the morning. At least they didn’t wake me at the crack of dawn and the cake they were carrying to my bed looked pretty delicious as well.

“Look at you, another year older and yet still sexy as fuck”, Rachel exclaimed as she hopped onto the bed beside me after they’d finished their horrible rendition of Happy Birthday. Mariah settled on the other side of me and I guess my friends knew me well enough because we didn’t move from that position except to grab some more food and booze until it was time to get ready for tonight. Best roommates ever.

“You need to look extra hot tonight, I want Vince to lose his shit when he sees you.”

Ever since I’d sent the screenshot to Rachel and told her about the couch situation, she had been on my back about the thing. Something about me needing to bag rich hot athletes for her sake. I didn’t even argue with her anymore, only rolling my eyes in sync with Mariah whenever she brought it up.

To my surprise Vince hadn’t been deterred by my hasty exit a few days ago, something that had definitely surprised me. It wasn’t the first time that my job had cockblocked me and it definitely won’t be the last and I’d met more than my fair share of guys who were absolutely not into that at all. The fascination with nurses died really fast once people realized how much time we spent on the job.

Vince and I had texted constantly since he spent the day with me and he had somehow managed to make casual conversation with a flirty undertone the entire time. We’d already established that neither of us was looking for anything serious right now but I had decided that I would definitely not say no to some fun with him.

Some birthday sex would be great for starters. I let Rachel curl my hair while I focused on perfecting my make up because I wanted to look good tonight, not just for Vince but also because by next weekend I’d already be packed so this was really my last big hurrah before moving back home.

The thing about spending most of my days make up free in sports bras, comfortable panties and running shoes was that if I did bother to go out, I put in a lot of effort. I was determined to turn heads tonight so I pulled on a black lace bodysuit that practically presented my boobs on a silver tray, a pair of jeans that made my ass look spectacular and some black stilettos that I hoped wouldn’t kill my feet in a few hours. I had to go braless under the bodysuit, the mesh part on the back making that very obvious and I had a feeling that Vince wouldn’t exactly mind either.

“Girl I’d totally bang you because you look so hot but that outfit shows off everything that’s wrong with you”, Rachel said as we all examined ourselves one last time in front of the full-length mirror in my room and took pictures. I shot her a confused look.

“Wait what’s wrong with me?”

“Well for one your ass looks bangin and so do your boobs and I’m pretty sure that I could tell if you had a dick wearing that and people with dicks are my type soooo..”, she trailed off and both Mariah and I turned towards her with an incredulous look before bursting out laughing, all the day drinking taking its toll already. It wasn’t exactly new for Rachel to stop making any sense once she had some alcohol in her but it was still just as entertaining every single time.

“I can’t believe you’re complaining about her not having a dick right now”, Mariah sighed and I couldn’t stop giggling at my idiotic friends.

“I’m not complaining! I’m just saying that I need a dick to-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Just – just for once in your life be at least somewhat normal please”, Mariah interrupted her exasperated and the both of them continuing to bicker still had me laughing by the time we climbed into the back of our Uber.

We were the last to arrive of course, because Rachel had insisted on us being fashionably late so by the time we made it inside the bar I could already spot my friends sitting in the back. She had also insisted on me wearing a stupid Birthday Girl sash, reminding me how many free drinks it would get me, but I drew the line at the tiara she had pulled out of her purse as well. I was too old for the full 21st birthday look after all.

After I was hugged by everyone and had received all of the birthday wishes and presents I realized that Vince wasn’t among the group, which was weird because we’d been texting all day and he had asked to confirm the time and place again just this morning.

It was as if my thought made him appear because soon I felt two hands gently grab my waist while his cologne infiltrated my senses. He spun me around and the force of the move had me reach out to rest my hands on his shoulders so I wouldn’t fall over. I knew he had done that on purpose.

We were standing so close that we would have definitely gotten in trouble if this were a middle school dance and the way he looked down at me right now made me curse everything that came to my mind because I just wanted to drag him to the nearest bathroom so he could bend me over the counter but of course that wouldn’t be acceptable in front of all my friends.

“Why didn’t you tell me that today is your birthday? Now I’m going to have to make up for the fact that I didn’t get you a present.”

I had a feeling that I wouldn’t mind whatever this making up entailed, if the way he tightened his grip while looking at me as if he was thinking about bathroom counters as well was any indicator.

“Because you don’t just tell people that it’s your birthday, that’s weird.” He pulled me even tighter then, wrapping his arms around me and wishing me a happy birthday after giving me a kiss on the cheek that gave me goosebumps. Before he had the chance to pull away however, I leaned up on my tippy toes because even with heels he was still taller than me and whispered “I can’t wait for the making up for it part though” in his ear.

He groaned in response and he dropped his hands to give my hips a squeeze before reluctantly letting go of me. Only now did I spot the two guys behind him that were all watching us with amused expressions, which had to be the friends he said he’d bring. Introductions were quick and I didn’t even bother to introduce everyone to Vince and his gang because the group was so big that the three of them wouldn’t be able to remember many names either way.

We settled into one of the booths and Rachel practically pushed me into the seat next to Vince, not that I minded of course. Conversation flowed easily, as did the drinks, and soon I found myself climbing out of the booth because I had just about consumed my body weight in liquid and desperately needed to go to the bathroom for something that unfortunately wasn’t sex. Walking over I could feel a slight buzz already but not to the extent that would make me stumble in my heels, perfect for a night out.

By the time Mariah and I returned I could tell that another one of Rachel’s plans was in action because now there was one more person sitting at our table, meaning there wasn’t enough space left for both Mariah and I. I was about to move to sit with some other friends in the booth next to ours when Vince, who was conveniently seated at the edge of our booth, told me to sit on his lap and that was an offer I would never turn down.

He grabbed my hips to pull me closer and onto his lap as he said: “Don’t worry I won’t bite.”

I couldn’t resist messing with him though, so I purposefully shifted closer to his crotch and leaned towards him so only he could hear me as I whispered: “What if I want you to though?” I could tell he was trying to suppress a groan and he gripped me even tighter, pulling me back into him.

Poor Vince, his balls were going to be the same color as a Blues jersey soon enough.

Unfortunately I couldn’t elaborate to make the situation even worse for him because I was being pulled into the conversation at the table. I could feel him growing hard underneath my ass though and the fact that I was able to rile him up so easily really did wonders for my self-confidence..

After I could tell that he had calmed down again I decided to put him out of his misery. Well, kind of. Me leaning across one of the pool tables as I took my shot gave him a perfect view of my cleavage or of me bending over after all, depending on where he stood.

“Are you always this bad?”, I asked after he missed yet another shot.

“No, usually I’m average at least but I guess I’m a little bit distracted right now.” He didn’t even try to hide him staring at my boobs as I took my turn. We’d both long dropped any pretense about where this was headed. After I made my shot I walked around the table to get a better angle for the next one, accidentally brushing up against Vince who now had a perfect view of my ass.

“I hope you’re only average at pool and not at anything else”, I teased him with a look over my shoulder after watching the ball roll into the hole the way I’d planned before straightening up again.

“Let me take you home so my neighbors can confirm me being anything but average”, he responded, his voice deep as he moved next to me, one of his big hands resting on my lower back to play with the fabric there, the heat of his hands practically burning my skin as I looked up at him.

Our intense eye contact was interrupted by one of the waitresses who walked up to the pool table sheepishly with a drink on her tray.

“Hey, that guy over there sent you this and I’m supposed to tell you to come over to him so you don’t have to, uh, keep playing with a - um - loser. His words not mine, sorry.” She pointed to a guy a few tables over who was decently good looking but radiated Asshole Energy off of him, his incredibly rude move not really helping either. Even if it wasn’t for Vince standing next to me I wouldn’t have touched him with a ten foot pole.

Vince had tensed up at the words and I watched him ball his hands into his fists, every muscle in his body tightening with anger. I had no doubt that because of his hockey experience he could hold his own in a fight but it wasn’t something I needed tonight. I thanked the waitress before setting the drink down and making a show of turning towards Vince, one hand trailing up from his biceps to the back of his head so I could interrupt the stare off he was currently having with the other guy.

“Don’t worry, I’m flattered that I seem to be able to distract you so much. To be honest I can’t really concentrate either because now I really want you to make me scream so loud that your neighbors file noise complaints.” Vince choked slightly and then reached for the drink that was sitting next to me, taking three big gulps while looking at me, his eyes dark.

He then grabbed my hand and I didn’t miss the smug look he threw at the other guy over my shoulder before pulling me towards the backdoor of the bar, the pool game abandoned without a second thought. The air outside had cooled down a bit by now but I didn’t even get the chance to acknowledge that because Vince had me pushed against the wall in a second, one hand resting next to my head while the other reached up to cup my face, dropping his head for a kiss.

All this teasing had finally led to this.

It was rough and yet sensual at the same time, his lips demanding and it didn’t take long until his tongue licked along my bottom lip, asking for entrance. He then deepened the kiss even further and I reached up to bury my hands in his stupidly perfect and soft hair, eliciting a throaty groan. When he pushed one of his legs in between mine I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me in turn at the delicious friction, followed by yet another one as he dropped his head to suck along my neck. I could feel how hard he was and it turned me on beyond imagination.

The thought that I would probably let him fuck me in this alley right now brought me back down to earth because this was not how I envisioned my night going.

“Vince, hold up”, I murmured and as soon as my words registered with him he pulled away, both of us panting.

“What’s wrong?”

I laughed at his expression, he looked at me as if he was truly worried that he’d overstepped a boundary. As if I hadn’t thrown hints left and right for the last couple of days. His swollen lips made it hard to concentrate because I just wanted to sink my teeth into them until he groaned again the way he had only seconds ago and I silently cursed his stupid perfect lips. I wondered what damage they could do.

“Nothing’s wrong, nothing at all. I just wanted to say let’s go back inside for like another hour or so and then we can take off.” The smile that quickly spread on his face made it obvious that he was going to say something not-PG-13 before he opened his mouth again to ask:

“Do you think your friends would mind if I dragged you home right this second?”

I had to laugh at that but it quickly died in my throat as he moved his hands to my hips to pull me close again before crashing his lips back onto mine. The going back to the others part would apparently be slightly delayed but with the way his lips and body moved against mine right now I would probably agree to anything if it meant getting to stay right in this position a bit longer.

This time it was less rushed and frantic and instead he took his time to explore every inch of my mouth while his hands wandered my body. Mine were roaming as well, from the neck down his muscular shoulders around to the front before finally creeping up his back below his shirt. I enjoyed the way I could feel his muscles tense under my touch but eventually we had to pull away from each other. We’d spent way too much time out here as it is.

“Let’s go back inside, the faster we get back the sooner we can leave and besides they’re probably wondering what we’re doing out here so long.”

The smug looks we received once we made our way back to the tables after I fixed my hair and make up and Vince did whatever he had to do to conceal his massive hard on made it clear that everyone had a good idea of what had gone on outside though. I’m pretty sure Rachel would have high fived me if it weren’t for the people sitting between us.

I sat on Vince’s lap again and this time it was torture for the both of us to wait until it was finally an acceptable time to make a getaway. I let Rachel take all the presents for me and she made Vince give her his address and phone number before she let him pull me into the back of an Uber.

I was pressed against him for the entire ride, his hand resting way higher on my leg than technically publicly acceptable. With every turn or bump in the road he accidentally brushed my core and at more than one point I had to hide my face in his broad chest so the driver wouldn’t hear the soft moans that couldn’t be stopped. I could tell that he was trying his best not to get too handsy as not to cause a scene but once we were alone in the elevator of his building all bets were off.

He walked me back against the doors, pushing one of his legs in between my own again and kissed me with a force that made me glad that I had tons of metal behind me as leverage to push back. He only pulled away once the little ‘ding’ could be heard and even then he only held off until he had me inside his apartment, barely waiting a second before he shrugged off his jacket, quickly moving onto mine.

Somehow we managed to make it onto the couch without breaking apart our kiss and I barely had time to admire his floor to ceiling windows before he pulled me close until I was straddling his lap. His lips were working on my neck again and I reminded him to not leave any marks there because I had to work on Monday morning, which only prompted him to move down lower, sucking at the skin right above the lace of my bodysuit.

“No one will see those then”, he murmured against my breasts and I moaned as he reached up to palm them through the material. By the time he was done I had several purple marks littering my cleavage and I really needed to see more of him so I motioned for him to take his shirt off, watching in awe as he reached back to pull it over his head in the perfect way only guys managed to.

His body could only be described as a work of art and I could tell that he worked really hard for it as I traced the outline of his abs, muscles contracting and goosebumps rising at my touch. The city lights made for the perfect lighting and the way his skin glowed in their reflection belonged in a museum if ever captured.

Vince reached for the button of my jeans and looked at me as if to ask if I was okay with that. I nodded before standing up, trying to get out of my jeans and heels in a quick but still somewhat sexy motion but I probably succeeded only halfway. He didn’t seem deterred by my struggle at all, the hungry look in his eyes never once vanishing.

As soon as I stood upright again Vince reached up to trace the lace embellishments, slowly moving his hands down lower towards where I really wanted them. Considering the fact that the bodysuit had already been pretty revealing in itself there wasn’t really much ‘new’ skin to see so far but he still looked at me with an intensity that almost made me shiver.

He reached to pull me down on him again but instead I surprised him by sinking down to my knees in front of him, his breath audibly hitching in his throat. For a second he was silent but as soon as I poked my tongue out to trace the ‘V’ on his lower stomach he let out a low moan, throwing his head back.

“Impatient much?”, I teased him, pleasantly surprised at my ability to make him almost lose his shit without even really doing anything.

“You have no idea. I’ve thought about this for days”, he admitted and I only smiled in return, moving to pull his jeans down along with his boxers without revealing that I had done the same. He got up to step out of both while I was focused on watching his dick bounce with the movement, amazed at the size of it.

As soon as he made himself comfortable again I grabbed the base with one hand while resting the other one on his thigh as I moved to lick the drops of precum that adorned the tip. When my tongue made contact he moved one of his hands into my hair, holding it back so he could get a better view.

“Fuck, you look so good like this”, he cursed when I finally wrapped my lips around him, taking the head into my mouth while swirling my tongue around him and taking him a bit further. I removed my lips and I could tell he was about to protest but any words died in his mouth when I started sucking his balls, reaching up to pump his length that was already slick from my spit with my hand.

He seemed to find his voice again once I licked up the underside of his dick but it was only a string of curses that turned into moans when I took him into my mouth as far as I could, my nose touching his pelvic bone. I relaxed my throat and swallowed around him, my name falling from his lips again and again as I reached up to massage his balls at the same time. I looked up to see him watching me with his pupils blown, hair sticking in all directions from running his hands through it so many times and his mouth slightly open. His arms were spread out beside him on the back of the couch and I wanted to take a picture to commemorate the moment, wanting to remember this forever. He had definitely never looked better and no one could convince me otherwise.

The hand in my hair helped me set a rhythm as I bobbed my head while licking around him and Vince was a moaning and cursing mess above me. It didn’t take long before he quite literally pulled me off him, running his hand across his face and taking a few calming breaths.

“You’re incredible but I don’t want to cum yet”, he finally murmured when he helped me back up and I wasn’t sure if he was only complimenting my blowjob-skills or more but the way he was looking at me right now made any thought besides wanting him inside me disappear.

“Vince I need you”, I practically begged and he quickly nodded before standing up with me still in his lap, reaching out to grab the back of my thighs to prevent me from slipping down. He somehow managed to walk up the stairs with me still wrapped around him while I trailed kisses along his collar bones and it was probably the hottest non-sexual thing I’d ever experienced with a guy.

He turned on a soft light once inside his room and while I would have loved to have a look around I was pretty distracted by the way he literally threw me on the bed before crawling on top of me, my legs falling apart to make space for him as if it was the most natural thing on earth.

Vince kissed down my breasts before suddenly stopping somewhere above my belly button.

“Okay I have to admit I’m a bit lost here, as hot as you look in it how the fuck do I get this thing off?” I probably shouldn’t laugh in such a somewhat serious situation but his helpless expression did nothing to stop the giggles that escaped my mouth. He was smiling as well and I was glad that we could laugh about the slight hiccup without it turning awkward.

I quickly reached down to snap open the buttons before sitting up and pulling the piece of lace over my head, discarding it in some corner of his room now completely naked.

“Much better”, he murmured, one of his hands reaching out to grab a hold of my boobs while the other one wrapped around my back, lowering us back onto the mattress. Eventually he trailed his kisses over the part of my skin that was marked up by him until he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, his hand taking care of the other one.

Slowly but surely he kissed his way down my body, skipping over the part where I needed him most to suck along the inside of my thighs. The sensation rushed through me, my core already throbbing from days of built up expectations and I let out a whine. I was tempted to try and close my legs so I could at least get some kind of friction but his shoulders between them made that impossible.

“Patience baby, don’t you know that good things come to those who wait?”, he murmured and I shuddered at the feeling of his breath fanning across my heat. I didn’t even have the time to think about the fact that he had just called me baby or that I was actually a firm believer in good things happening to those who worked for them because he reached down to drag one of his fingers through my folds and all thoughts left my body.

“Shit, you’re so wet already”, he said softly but I was unable to give him any response besides a frantic nod and another desperate whine.

I’d fantasized about this for the last couple of days of course but nothing came close to the reality of one of his thick fingers dipping into my core. He teased my entrance for a bit, only pushing inside to his first knuckle but then I whined again and he pushed it in as far as he could. I was so lost in the feeling that I hadn’t even noticed him moving back up my body until he littered the valley between my breasts with heated kisses.

“So tight. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

As if the words he’d moaned into my ear weren’t already enough to make any coherent thoughts disappear, he added a second finger and I arched my back into him, the change of angle just right in a way that had me gripping the sheets so tightly that my knuckles turned white. He reached dropped down to tease my nipples, sucking and licking them expertly while his hand thrust up into me.

My moans were already filling the room but then he started circling my clit with his thumb and I knew that I wouldn’t last much longer, the anticipation and desperation definitely helping to speed things along. He looked up at me to watch my reactions and the sight of him with his mouth latched onto my breast was almost enough to send me over the edge by itself.

“I’m so close Vince, please don’t stop”, I begged and this seemed to spur him on further, his movements turning even more eager as he continued to place sloppy kisses along my skin. It was the combination of everything he was doing to me that finally brought me over the edge, the release so sweet after needing it for so long.

He made sure to extend my orgasm as long as possible, only pulling his hand away after I whimpered slightly, the stimulation a bit much now. His softly kissed his way back down and along my thighs now and I could tell that he wasn’t quite done with me yet.

“How’s the birthday girl feeling right now?”, he asked with a teasing smile and normally I probably would have smacked him for this but right now I would tolerate it because I was still in my blissful post-orgasmic state.

“Amazing so far, could do better though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, I’m pretty sure I was promised some making up for the lack of a present and I don’t think we’ve reached that point yet.”

“Well excuse me then while I go back to work.” And with that he flattened his tongue and boldly licked one long stripe across my slit.

He started out slowly and I was glad because I was still a bit sensitive from my last orgasm, lapping at my entrance and pushing his tongue inside of me, making me gasp. It didn’t take long however until he grabbed my hips to pull me closer and onto his mouth, pushing my legs up to expose me even further to him and ultimately giving him better access.

When he sucked my clit into his mouth I couldn’t help but arch my back off the mattress again, burying my hands in his hair as he reached up to hold me still. This guy’s lips weren’t just pretty, they were apparently amazingly talented as well.

He replaced his tongue with one of his thick fingers, slowly pushing in and soon his name fell off my lips in a religious chant as he added yet another one, curling them upwards for maximum pleasure. I could feel my high coming from a mile away and Vince apparently must have too by the way I was grinding myself against his face because he quite literally dove back in, determined to shatter my word.

And shatter my world he did.

I was pretty sure I would have floated away as I reached my high if it wasn’t for Vince’s hand across my stomach keeping me grounded. My legs were still shaking with the aftershocks of one of the arguably - no hands down - best orgasms I’d had while getting head in my life. By the time I was finally able to open my eyes again he was wiping his face before grinning down at me.

“You look so fucked out already and we haven’t even gotten to that part yet”, he teased and I let out a chuckle before pushing at his chest. Leave it to him to make fun of me after he was the one who put me in this situation. Not that I was complaining of course.

“Don’t worry, it’s a good look on you. One that I’d definitely like to see more often.” He leaned down to nip at my neck then, his cock prodding at my thigh.

“If you keep doing that you definitely will”, I responded with an airy laugh, still kind of breathless. All talk died down after that however when he captured my lips with his again as he crawled on top of me, settling between my legs. Kissing him was definitely addicting and the fact that I could taste myself while doing so only made it ten times more hot.

Vince rolled his hips against mine, groaning into my mouth when his cock dragged against my skin while I couldn’t stop the moan escaping my lips either. Breaking the kiss he pulled back in a way that had him in a push-up position above me, giving me a moment to enjoy the view. His hair was sticking in all kinds of directions, his pupils so blown that they almost seemed black instead of the usual beautiful green and his muscles were flexing from holding the position.

“Still want to keep going?”, he asked and in my daze it took me a second to realize that this was him asking for consent. I had no doubt that he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want him to but this, him offering to stop when he had done so much for me already while not getting off yet in return, was sweet. Especially since I had made it more than obvious that stopping was definitely not on my mind.

I moved to flip us over then, straddling his thighs and wrapping my hand around his dick, pumping him a few times and in case that wasn’t confirmation enough for him I leaned down to whisper a “definitely” in his ear.

“Condoms?”

“Top drawer on your right.”

Only because we weren’t in the middle of his huge bed was I able to reach said drawer, grabbing one of the foil packets out of the box and ripping it open with my teeth before rolling it down on him. I scooted up enough to line his cock with my entrance and while I tried to watch Vince as I sunk down on him the way my eyes fluttered shut at the sensation was out of my control.

While there had definitely been enough foreplay to make the sliding in part easy it was still quite a stretch, one so amazing however that it had the both of us moaning at the same time.

“Shit you feel incredible”, he breathed and I nodded my head in agreement, too lost in the pleasure to form any coherent sentences. Rolling my hips against him created some amazing friction that had my head spinning as I clenched my muscles, eliciting throaty groans from him.

Vince reached for my hips, gripping them tightly as he helped guide me along, my clit catching on his pelvic bone with every backward movement. “You got one more in you babe?”, he asked and to my surprise I could tell that I did. The fact that I could already feel it bubbling inside of me spoke volumes of our chemistry in bed together. This was a friends with benefits arrangement I could definitely get behind.

He sat up then, changing the angle at which his cock dragged against my walls and also making it possible for him to take one of my nipples into his mouth, gently grazing his teeth against it while tightening his grip on my hip as he thrust up into me. At this point I was a moaning mess on top of him but I honestly didn’t care. I hadn’t had sex this good in a while and the way he looked up at me in awe made it impossible to feel anything but sexy.

I didn’t even need any extra help to reach my third orgasm of the night with his name falling off my lips, the feeling so strong that my mind was absolutely blank and I saw stars dancing across the back of my eyelids as I arched into him with my eyes shut. He made sure to let me ride it out, groaning as he felt my walls tighten around him but as soon as I slumped against him he turned us around so he was on top of me, never once pulling out.

The pace at which he was chasing his own high now was relentless and hard and I would have held on for dear life if he hadn’t raised my arms to keep them above my head. One of his hands easily encased both of my wrists while he used his other to keep at least some of his weight off of me. I knew that a fourth orgasm was off the table, I was way too exhausted for that by now but he still felt amazing inside of me. I wrapped my legs around him to allow him deeper, the smack of our skin and our moans so loud that I was glad that we didn’t have any nosy roommates right next door. Those noise complaints from the neighbors I’d mentioned earlier might still roll in though.

With this pace it didn’t take long for his thrusts to lose all rhythm and I could tell that he wouldn’t last much longer. I clenched around him to bring him even closer and he groaned into the crook of my neck where he had buried his face, my name and some colorful curses falling off his lips. He readjusted his position so he could lean up enough to look at me while still holding my wrists above my head and I watched him throw his head back in pleasure as he slammed deep inside of me one last time, face contorting in pleasure as he reached his high. I could feel him pulsing inside of me and a pleasant shudder ran through me, making me sigh at the feeling. Perhaps this was my body’s way of saying girl if I could have, I would have.

He let go of my wrists then and I wrapped my arms around him as he dropped down on top of me. We both caught our breath for a few seconds which honestly wasn’t easy with the extra weight on my chest but it was a nice feeling. He had to carefully pull out and roll off of me eventually, throwing the condom next to the bed to dispose of later. For now it was nice to lay beside each other, covered in a sheen of sweat and still panting.

After finally landing back on planet earth I looked to my right at the alarm clock waiting on the nightstand, only now realizing how late it had gotten. Vince lifted his head enough to check the time as well and let out a light groan at the sight.

“You can spend the night if you want but we should definitely shower before that. Even if it wasn’t your birthday – well technically it’s not anymore – I’m not some dick that would kick you out in the middle of the night.”

I was surprised at his offer, I’d been with guys who were those dicks but I was even more surprised when he told me to pick something to sleep in from his closet before pulling on a pair of boxers and getting up to grab waters for the both of us.

I decided to postpone this until after showering, quickly making my way to his ensuite to use the toilet. I saw enough UTIs at work, I didn’t need them following me home. I was trying to wipe my make up off as best as I could with a washcloth and the face wash from his counter when he returned to his bathroom, a new toothbrush triumphantly in his hand.

“Found this in my junk drawer in the kitchen but I’ll be honest, I have no idea how it got there. The wrapping is unopened tho”, he admitted sheepishly and I laughed.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll take it.”

Our shower was quick, both of us too exhausted for any more funny business but if my gaze had dropped from time to time appreciatively no one would ever know. He had an amazing body and I would have to be a nun not to acknowledge that.

Especially while he was naked in the shower.

I definitely wasn’t a nun.

Looking for clothes to sleep in turned out to be more difficult than I’d originally thought because of his affinity to clothes that were at least one size too big. Most of them would reach my knees in a really unflattering way and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep while drowning in fabric. I tried on three, neatly putting them back afterwards and actually contemplating sleeping in only a pair of his boxers before finally finding one that didn’t make me look like a kid.

I could tell that it was an old shirt, perhaps from a previous team, worn down over time with a slightly faded print but it was comfortable and it smelled like him, even if I doubted that he had worn it anytime recently.

Vince was already tucked into bed by the time I stepped back into his bedroom, scrolling through his phone but putting it down on the nightstand once I got closer. I could see that he’d searched for a second charger so I could plug my phone in overnight as well and it was such a little gesture but yet it made me smile.

“I prefer to sleep on the right side, I hope you don’t mind”, he said as I climbed under the cover beside him. I shook my head no before responding:

“Nah, I actually like the left side better.”

“See, we’re meant to be fuck buddies.”

“I could already tell from the three orgasms but hey, if that’s what it takes for you to realize that.”

“You have a point there.”

Any other time and I certainly would’ve stayed up for a while longer so we could talk but right now I knew I wouldn’t last long. For a second I wasn’t sure how to do this, would it be weird to cuddle?

Vince made my decision easy however when he pulled me close until my back was flush against him, wrapping his arm around my waist. After our exhausting shenanigans earlier it took neither of us long to fall asleep.

The next morning I woke super early, my inner clock not allowing me to sleep past seven despite staying up late. I’d turned around in my sleep to lay on my stomach but Vince had somehow managed to keep his arm around me and get even closer.

I was slightly worried for my safety because of the fact that I had managed to sleep through a 200 pound guy basically laying on top of me but I’d slept like a baby. I could tell that Vince was still asleep by the even breaths that fanned across my neck but one part of him definitely wasn’t, poking my side. Bless the male population for their sleepy boners.

I was trying to let him sleep as long as I could, I really did, but with him so close to me and the images of last night combined with the very interesting dream I’d just woken up from burned into my memory I couldn’t help myself. I slowly turned in his arms so we were back to the position we’d fell asleep in, on our sides and pressed together spooning.

Even through my shirt I could feel his body radiating heat and if the night had been warmer it definitely would’ve been too much but right now I just wished for all barriers between our bodies to disappear.

My shifting had apparently woken Vince up successfully because he let out a throaty groan before, consciously or not, rocking against my ass and burying his face in my neck.

“Morning”, he said and I’m not gonna lie his husky morning voice did things to me that didn’t exactly help my situation.

“Morning, how’d you sleep?”, I asked, turning my head slightly so I wasn’t having this conversation with his incredibly comfortable pillow.

“Could’ve been longer but I don’t mind. Now that I’m up however..”, he trailed off, lightly biting my neck and moving his hand from my waist to grab my boob, rocking into me again, this time definitely on purpose.

This was definitely a friends with benefits situation I could get behind.

-

Somehow Vince managed to weasel his way into my life after that. He’d come over after I finished a shift at the hospital, spend the night and leave me incredibly satisfied the next morning when both of us went our separate ways again. Our time with each other was pretty short, only a week, but somehow I’d had more sex in that one week than in the last few months combined.

My last shift at the hospital on Saturday was, for a lack of better words, sad as fuck. So many people came up to me, telling me how much they would miss me and what a great addition I had been over the past year. When they brought a cake into the break room with a sweet message written on top of it I couldn’t help the tears that welled up. I could see Rachel subtly wipe at her eyes as well and I hugged her tightly.

“Remember our first day of classes? Oh how things have changed since then”, she muttered against me and I nodded. One thing that hadn’t changed however was our friendship. She was the reason I had come to Toronto, where she had grown up but it had been five years since I left my home to go to college and I knew that it was time to go back to my family and childhood friends.

“Don’t think you’ll be getting rid of me this soon, I’ll call you all the time and with there only being a one hour time difference between Toronto and St. Louis you have no excuse to avoid me.”

“As if I could ever avoid you, you little shit. But if your hometown insists on having you back I’ll allow it, I guess.” Her insulting me told me that she was okay again so I let go of her, the both of us still sniffling a bit as we each grabbed a piece of the cake.

When I finally made my ay back home that night Vince was already there. Mariah had probably let him in. There’s been some raised eyebrows at first but after seeing him here every day neither of my roommates was surprised when he knocked at our apartment door. Somehow he seemed to sense that I wasn’t in a talking mood right now, especially about having to say goodbye to the place that had been my home for the past year.

I was excited to see my family and friends in St. Louis again, don’t get me wrong, but goodbyes were never easy.

He greeted me with one of his comforting hugs that I’d already grown accustomed to before dropping his head to press a soft kiss on the top of my head before pulling me to the bathroom.

My shampoo and other toiletries were some of the last few things that hadn’t been stuffed in boxes and duffel bags yet and the sight made tears well up in my eyes.

“It’s okay, you know. I don’t like leaving here either”, he murmured in my ear as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, moving us so we both got hit by the stream of hot water. I wanted to forget everything but the feel of his naked body pressed against me but right now I knew I was too in my head to actually be able to enjoy it. Later maybe.

“But you get to come back every summer for a couple of months. I don’t know how long it’ll take until I can visit everyone again and even then it’ll probably only be for a few days.”

“That’s true. But your friends can also visit you. And in a few weeks I’ll be down as well and then you’ll be so annoyed by me constantly bugging you that you won’t be able to miss your friends here anymore.” My sniffle turned into a laugh at his words and I almost swallowed a big gulp of water in that moment, making both of us break into fits of laughter.

I was glad I’d have him with me again in a few weeks. Hopefully at least. We’d talked about our situation and I told Vince to hit me up again once he’d made it to St. Louis too in a few weeks and while he said he would, I knew that there was the possibility that he might not. I didn’t have the opportunity to dwell on the thought too long though because he’d managed to distract me yet again when he placed searing hot kisses along my shoulder.

If he hadn’t managed to get me out of my shell back in the hospital I never would’ve ended up with him in the shower right now. Or bent over the mattress a few minutes later.

Vince Dunn, the arrogant professional athlete, had turned out to be nothing like I’d expected and I had never been more happy to be wrong.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (86) || atz

Hongjoong has always known that he would have to face his father again.

It was inevitable the second Hongjoong had chosen to become the man he was - a pirate, and one known as the Pirate King of the Caribbean, at that. Hongjoong hadn’t chosen the life of a pirate on his own, it had simply been a means to survival when there was no path left for him to take, but he had to admit he had embraced it partially to spit on his father’s ideals as the Chief Commander of the Royal Navy.

And now, he’s meeting his father eye to eye once again, both on different sides of the beach - both on different sides to this battle.

But while he has Wooyoung and Yeosang flanking both his sides, the hot summer air of the tropics taking on a sudden chill, his father approaches the no man’s land in a tiny boat - completely alone.

“Yeosang, do you notice something strange?” Wooyoung whispers out of the corner of his mouth, and Hongjoong can tell from just tense he is from the way his jaw is clenched. Hongjoong can’t see that well with one eye, but he trusts Wooyoung’s instincts and sight as the head gunner.

Next to him, Yeosang nods, a barely perceivable tilt of the head. “Something’s off, but I can’t tell what it is...” The navigator mumbles under his breath, chewing on his bottom lip. Hongjoong swallows, feeling unease stir in the pit of his belly. Just what is happening?

“They haven’t noticed the Treasure, have they?” Hongjoong murmurs softly as his father’s lone boat approaches the island - it’s barely small enough to fit a single man, yet it captures his attention more easily the massive armada at his father’s back. Yeosang nods again, eyes still fixed intently on the rowboat approaching shore.

“They’ll be able to move into cannon range faster than the armada can react, and we’ll cut a straight path in front of their bows to weaken the ships closest to us.” His navigator speaks quickly, but Hongjoong can hear the way his voice is trembling. Yeosang has never been one to enjoy being in the thick of fighting like Yunho and Jongho are, has never learnt to lift a blade larger than a simple knife for self defense. “There are two ships at the side with their artillery directed to us, but it’s the best chance we have. Once we give the smoke signal, San and Chin Hae should come running... if everything goes well.”

Wooyoung lets out a loud breath, blowing at his bangs to get them out of his eyes before he gives his captain an easy smile. “Nothing ever goes well with you, captain, does it?” He says, trying to lighten the mood, and Hongjoong shakes his head slightly, a small smile curling at the side of his mouth.

“We’re still alive for you to complain, so I don’t see what the problem is.” Hongjoong retorts calmly. Yeosang shakes his head in disappointment as Wooyoung snickers, before turning his attention back to the approaching boat.

The boat draws ever closer, close enough for him to make out the features on the man’s face. He’s completely alone, without a single bodyguard with him, something that Yeosang doesn’t understand. Even when his own father had come on board the Treasure for a negotiation, he had brought with him several men to protect him. But for the Chief Commander of the Royal Navy to approach them alone?

The man before them can’t be over-confident, or a simple fool if he has made his way up the ranks of the Royal Navy. He remembers the snippets of conversation he had heard his father make with the Chief Commander of the Royal Navy before, too young to understand with one ear pressed to a hardwood door, but enough to know that the man inside was one respected and feared. The Chief Commander commanded the room with a single word, and Yeosang had wondered just how capable he was to reach the position.

Yet here he is now, approaching the beach in a solitary rowboat, his presence so large that Yeosang already feels the weight of his gaze.

Just how confident is he?

A cold feeling settles on Yeosang’s shoulders as he continues to stare, watching the rowboat come closer to shore. He knows something is wrong, but what-

The gasp falls from his throat, completely unbidden and he rubs at his eyes frantically to confirm that he’s not hallucinating. No, he isn’t, and Yeosang isn’t sure which one is more terrifying to him.

“Captain...” He tugs at Hongjoong’s sleeve, and it’s only when he misses the red fur a few times does he realise his fingers are shaking. “Your father... isn’t supposed to be a witch or something, is he?”

“What? Only in personality, but not in reality...” Hongjoong begins to say, but then Wooyoung curses aloud, shifting forward to look more clearly at the man approaching the island.

“He’s not rowing.”

Hongjoong doesn’t fully process this until it hits him that his father is alone, in a rowboat, and is fast nearing them. He knows what it’s like to be able to do such a thing, sees the way the waves slide around the underside of the boat to propel it closer to shore. There’s no denying it - his father, too, must have the power of the seas.

And that scares him.

Still Hongjoong swallows, straightens his back and takes a step forward, feeling the weight of the musket strapped under his coat and the blade hidden in the sleeves. He raises his head to meet his father’s gaze, and he swears he sees a smile identical to his pulling at the corner of his father’s mouth.

He hates it.

The boat makes it landing far too fast, the waves pushing the small vessel onto shore. His father steps off board, each action as graceful and elegant as flowing water, befitting a man befitting his station, boots crunching in the sand. Hongjoong instinctively moves to take a step back, thickness forming in his throat before he forces himself to stay still even as a drop of cold sweat trickles down his back.

Remember who you’re doing this for, he reminds himself, nails digging into the skin of his palm. The pain grounds him, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself. The crew is all counting on him, their captain, to steer them safely through this storm. And you... you...

Your smile weaves its way into his mind, entwining with his memories. He has to be brave. You’re still waiting for him.

“Snap out of it, captain.” Wooyoung kicks him not so subtly in the knee, and Hongjoong turns his head to give his head gunner a flat look. The man gives him a beatific grin in response. “Don’t think so hard and just focus on capturing that little bastard snake. I’ll protect you with my life, so there’s no need to worry.”

Hongjoong snorts, but part of him does feel marginally better at Wooyoung’s words. “And here I was thinking that I wish it was Yunho here with me instead. Don’t be so hasty to die too, won’t you?” He looks at the purple haired man, a small grin on his face. “You have something to ask Chin Hae too, don’t you?”

Wooyoung levels a suspicious glance at his captain. “... have you been eavesdropping?”

“Will the two of you stop making me feel like a third wheel?” Yeosang grumbles under his breath, and Hongjoong laughs together with Wooyoung at the put out look on their navigator’s face. “Pay attention to the enemy in front of us.”

Hongjoong takes a deep breath, heart lighter. “Sorry, I got distracted. Let’s do it.”

It’s been years since he’s seen his father’s face, and he hasn’t changed one bit since the last time Hongjoong has seen him.

He still has the same, sharp, fine features that women used to throw themselves at when Hongjoong was still a child, dark hair cropped short and parted in the middle to show his eyes. The only difference is that while one of his eyes are green just like Hongjoong last remembers them, the other is a strange, shifting colour that reminds him or a whirlpool at sea and sends shivers up Hongjoong’s spine.

It’s as if there’s something else lurking in his father’s body that’s not quite human.

His father steps up to the line drawn in the sand, both hands clasped behind his back and a serene smile on his handsome face. At a simple glance, he doesn’t appear to be carrying any weapons on him, dressed in nothing but a smart black coat with the Royal Navy’s insignia decorating the space over his heart. Hongjoong clenches his jaw ever so slightly at the red rose blooming there, but doesn’t say a word, meeting his father’s eyes evenly. The scar along his eye burns at the sight of him.

Don’t speak first, don’t show any weakness, don’t-

“You must have suffered a lot, Hongjoong.”

For the first time in almost a decade, Hongjoong hears his father speak again. It’s the same, steady voice that calmed him when he was trapped in the storms with his father in a tiny sailboat, the one that his ears could pick up even as the winds howled and the thunder crashed through the sky. His father never raised his voice, not once, and at the sound of his words Hongjoong feels like a child who just wants to hold his father’s hand again.

And he hates it.

“That’s not what we came here to talk about.” Wooyoung says loudly, and Hongjoong mentally breathes a word of thanks to his head gunner as he takes the momentary distraction to get himself back under control.

“He’s right,” Hongjoong speaks, and is relieved when his voice comes out firm and steady. Yeosang nods from next to him, eyes evenly trained on the man opposite them. “We’re here to negotiate for our crew’s freedom. ”

“Your crew’s safety is already guaranteed.” The man before him says so warmly that Hongjoong wants to hurl. It’s the exact same gentle smile his father had worn as he abandoned Hongjoong to bleed out on that island. “I mean no harm towards you, or your crew.”

“That doesn’t explain the whole armada behind you.” Wooyoung snaps, seething. The commander simply laughs, shaking his head kindly. “I assure you that they were never here to open fire on your ship. I only brought them to flush you out of Tortuga, otherwise you would never have agreed to a conversation with me. It is my hope that we will be able to resolve this without you having to pull the trigger, good sir.”

Wooyoung and Yeosang both flinch, the former reaching back subconsciously to touch the firearm behind his back before he catches himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hongjoong’s father merely shrugs, an easy tilt of the head that shows neither fear nor wariness. The smooth, refined way he speaks almost makes Yeosang’s head feel light, the right amount of politeness softened with the perfect touch of compassion and gentleness that makes him want to believe everything coming out of this man’s mouth, a textbook example of a perfect diplomat. Refusing him would make Yeosang feel awful, and-

“Yeo, snap out of it.” Wooyoung whispers harshly out of the corner of his mouth, and Yeosang startles out of it, surprised. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but don’t listen to it. Remember, he’s our enemy.”

“It’s a pity that you think of me that way, although that is completely understandable.” Hongjoong’s father nods with a resigned smile, and Yeosang almost finds himself rushing to reassure the man before he catches himself, throwing both hands over his mouth. Is this what hearing the voice of a siren is like, he wonders to himself, fear creeping up the back of his throat. “My purpose here is simple.”

“You want Chin Hae, and we’re not giving her to you. So find something else you want, because I’m not giving up one of my crew to someone like you.” Hongjoong says coldly, and his father simply raises an eyebrow in response. His eyes are as perceptive as those of an osprey, and he lets out a pained sigh, shaking his head in what seems to be both disappointment and worry. “So, it is true that you’ve fallen in love with it. Hongjoong, what you call Chin Hae is something that you haven’t fully even begun to understand.”

“What?” Hongjoong spits out, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. Is his father really saying he understands you more than he does? “What are you talking about?”

“You have a starstruck look in your eyes. I say this because I’m worried as your father, Hongjoong.” His father says calmly, and Hongjoong flinches, one hand gripping his eyepatch before he lets it fall back to the side. There’s a pressure building in his chest, a furious, boiling anger than feels like it’s about to explode any moment. How dare his father come after him, after everything he’s ever done, interfering with the life that he’s built and acting like he knows him?

“That doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He practically spits, voice rising in volume as he tries to keep his emotions under control. “If you did give a bit of care about your only son, you wouldn’t have shot him and left him alone to die on an island!”

“Captain, calm down.” Yeosang grips his wrist tightly, and it’s then that Hongjoong realises that he’s trembling, hands fisted so tight that he can’t feel his fingers. “Don’t let him get to you.”

But his impassioned words seem to have struck some sort of chord in his father, because the serene smile fades from his face. His father meets his eyes calmly, voice firm.

“Blood had to be spilled for the ritual.” The man says, and Hongjoong baulks at the word ritual. The closest he’s come to anything mystical in the world has been San’s unique abilities as a healer, the thing that had come to possess Chin Hae last night, and of course... the blessing of the sea goddess. “Don’t you realise, Hongjoong? The sand that you’re standing upon right now, it’s the very same place I left you behind.”

A chill runs up Hongjoong’s back, and he whips around in a circle to confirm it. When he had been left here years ago as a child, he’d been on the verge of deathfrom bleeding out, crying out of his one remaining eye and trying understand the agonizing pain that the betrayal of his only family had left in his heart. Now that he takes a second look, he sees a terrifyingly familiar palm tree that was stained red in his memory, remembers how golden sand was soaked crimson in his blood. He remembers the way the waves had risen and fallen, and the way she had emerged from the sea to stand on dry land-

“Why would you do something as sick as that?” Wooyoung hisses, and it’s then that Hongjoong sees the shotgun already locked and loaded in his gunner’s hands. Hongjoong doesn’t blame him, just being in his father’s presence makes his hairs stand on the end, his fight or flight reflexes kicking in desperately. “What ritual? You mean you’re one of those disgusting bastards who believe in sacrificing their children or whatever?”

Hongjoong feels sick to the pit of his stomach. He just wants to leave, to escape before he hears anything more. But his father opens his mouth to speak, and Hongjoong can’t bring himself move.

“A ritual to summon the gods themselves.”

Hongjoong freezes. “Gods?” The words come out strangled, choked in his throat. The sea goddess who had risen from the sea to save him and gave him her blessing... that was his father’s doing?

“This very place was where I met the sea goddess, years before you were even born.” His father says, and coldness creeps over his body, liquid ice burning cold in every vein as his father’s words ring in his ears. “I was on the verge of death myself after a massive sea storm, and when I came to I was alone... and my crew... lost to the waves.”

Hongjoong remembers this story. It had only been told once, out of the hundreds of sea legends and fantasies that his father had told him while the sailboat beneath them rocked gently on the waves.

“You must have been an amazing captain when you were younger, dad!” Hongjoong had turned behind to grin brightly at his father as the sailboat rose over another wave. “You’re so calm even when I’m scared! You don’t seem to be afraid of the big storms at all! That’s why you’re the chief commander of the Royal Navy, right?”

Hongjoong’s father had continued smiling, but even though Hongjoong had only been a boy then, he could see the way his father’s eyes fixed on a horizon far away, lost in his memories and his smile fading slightly from his face.

“The sea is a dangerous mistress,” his father had said softly, releasing one hand on the rudder to place it on Hongjoong’s head, a comforting weight. “That’s why it’s the captain’s role to guide his crew safely through any storm. As a captain, your first loyalty is to your crew. It’s a bond almost as strong as that of blood ties.” He ruffled Hongjoong’s hair so affectionately the boy couldn’t help but giggle. “Have you heard the saying, ‘a captain goes down with his ship’?”

“That sounds scary...” Hongjoong had shivered, hunkering down in the boat, slightly scared at the thought of falling into the sea. “What does it mean?”

Hongjoong’s father smiled at him. “It means that the captain holds ultimate responsibility for every member of his crew, and every person on board his ship. In an emergency, he will do everything in his power to save them, or give his life trying.” His voice turned slightly hoarse, and Hongjoong, perceptive even as a child, frowned at his father. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

His father had blinked, before he shook his head and gave his son a reassuring smile. “So, there’s no need to be scared, Hong. On this boat, if I’m the captain, who’s my crew?”

“Me!” Hongjoong yelled excitedly, throwing both hands into the air. “Me! I’m dad’s crew!”

His father’s eyes had softened.

“That’s right, my little map.” He pulled Hongjoong into an embrace with one arm, and Hongjoong threw both arms around his father, hugging him tight. “You... will definitely grow up and understand what it means to become a better captain than I ever was. I’m sorry I won’t be there to see it.”

“Dad?” Hongjoong hesitated, pulling away to look at his father in the eyes. Green met green, and his father smiled. “I don’t want to become a captain if it means leaving dad behind. I wanna be dad’s crew! Dad’s gonna be my captain forever!”

His father’s smile was stained with tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Dad’s crew... is already gone. There’s no one like them, and there will never be any like them ever again.” His father hugged Hongjoong harder. “That’s why I’m sorry you’ll endure so much for your selfish father’s sake and his failure.”

That day on, his father had never once mentioned his crew ever again.

But Hongjoong hadn’t been a fool. It hadn’t taken much for him to figure out as he grew older just what his father had meant by failure: failure as a captain, who was supposed to ensure the safety of his crew above all others. He had survived while the rest of his crew had died.

The captain goes down with his ship.

The very same philosophy that Hongjoong has never managed to shake, even if it had been his father who’d said those words. The same principles he lived and breathed by, to be a good captain, just like his father had said he would.

“Why me?” Hongjoong finally asks, his voice breaking. Yeosang and Wooyoung both turn to glance at him at the sound of his words wavering, fist clenched so tightly that his entire arm is trembling. “What exactly did you do to me? Why did you shoot me and leave me on this island to die? What exactly did you want with the gods that was worth killing me?”

“Hongjoong, I never meant to kill you. If I truly wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing here alive right now, because I would have simply shot you in the heart and left you dead.” His father says, so serious that it can’t be anything but the truth. “But your blood had to be spilled to call the sea goddess, because only you would be able to find her.”

“Me?” Hongjoong trembles, trying to deny it. “I don’t have anything to do with the gods. I didn’t even know they existed until-”

“Hongjoong.” His father cuts him off, soft voice so commanding Hongjoong falls silent instantly. “You were created with the essence of the sea. The blood of the sirens, the essence and life the sea holds, it flows in your veins. I made you with my own flesh and blood, Hongjoong. Just like the way water always finds its way back to the sea, I knew that you would be the map and the compass to my goal. You’re my son who I love, Hongjoong. I would never want to hurt you.”

Hongjoong stumbles backwards, and his knees feel weak. Is this how you felt when you had found out that you were made of clay? Perhaps he understands that now. He can’t seem to find his voice, head spinning and dizzy. He was made. Yet he can tell, knows the love his father held for him was real, and perhaps that is the most devastating thing of all.

“What do you want with the sea goddess?” Hongjoong manages to croak. He remembers the being that had taken over you last night, with its haunting, ancient blue eyes, the way it had tried to kill him in order to save Chin Hae’s life. What would his father want with something like that?

His father’s next words sends a chill down his spine.

“I’m going to kill the sea goddess.” He says calmly, mismatched eyes meeting Hongjoong’s with such intensity that his breath catches in his throat. “I’m going to become the god of the sea, and bring my crew back, no matter what it costs me.

Because I’m their captain, and they’re my crew.”