#i want to bite his torso until he looks like a dog's chewing toy

[ackerfics]

the parent trap — levi ackerman (iv)

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

— warnings: angst??? and feels, i think

— summary: after assuming that everything was starting to shift further away from the plan, the people in the ackerman estate found out the identity of the boy mirroring the twin they know so well.

— word count: 8.6k (i know, i had to do it bc it's been so long)

— author's notes: finally, after weeks of not touching this series, i finally updated it. this part is centered around the reveal in levi's side of things. to those who watched the movie, you know things will go down from here. happy reading everyone !!

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

The news that was dropped on Altair last night stole away every ounce of sleep from him.

At first, he felt like everything collapsed on his shoulders. His mum is getting married? In what universe? There wasn’t even a decent man in a five-meter radius around his mother, well, except for her employees at the bridal shop. Nonetheless, all of the men trying to court her were turned down in an instant but why was she getting married to an idiot when he was away from home? The number of times he ran his hand through his hair and wishing everything was perfect can’t be counted on his fingers. First, it was that Cindy woman and now, an unknown man wooing you with serenades and God knows what in London has added himself in the list of pesky outliers. There shouldn’t be outliers in the first place. Throughout the night, Altair made his mind busy by making adjustments in their plan, eyes fixed on the ceiling in concentration.

The next thing he knew, daybreak dripped on his eyelids, peeking through the spaces between his curtains. Altair sat up on his bed and rubbed his eyes free of sleep crust before turning to his alarm clock on the nightstand. A red 9:34 glared at him, telling him he overslept. The boy huffed and plopped himself back on the plush mattress, his pillows swallowing him whole as he tried to give himself more hours of sleep. His five-minute doze was interrupted with a knock on his door. It took everything in him not to shout ‘five more minutes' so he decided to might as well wake himself up by walking to the door and answering the person on the other side.

Petra’s face beamed at him and Altair had to narrow his eyes because Petra’s smile was too bright for his own good. It was like looking too long at the sunrise.

“Good morning, Al!” the redhead greeted him.

“Morning, Petra,” Altair replied, rubbing his eyes again. “I’m sorry I overslept.”

Petra waved him off. “It’s fine. I expected it yesterday since you just came home from camp. You must be so tired. Why don’t you go take a bath and change and come downstairs for some breakfast? I’m sure this will wake you up — I cooked your favorites.” The boy nodded at her suggestion. She tried teasing him by calling his name again, Altair turning around to acknowledge his nanny with a raised eyebrow. “You know, I’d probably oversleep, too, if I were up in the middle of the night making mysterious phone calls from my bathroom. It’s pretty quiet in here at midnight so I think that pretty much exposed you.”

Altair froze at Petra’s inquiring tone, blinking his speechlessness. In an instant, he doesn’t feel sleepy anymore. He scratched his undercut. “Uhm, it was a friend from camp. He just wanted to talk to me, that’s all.”

The redhead hummed as she crossed her arms. “Ooh-kay. Well, your breakfast will be waiting on the kitchen counter!” She shouted while making her way downstairs.

“Okay!” Altair yelled back.

He opened his closet and took out a blue flannel, a white undershirt, and a pair of jeans. Without wasting any more time, Altair got himself ready by taking a bath just as Petra suggested and made himself presentable once he reached the kitchen. His hair was still wet, a towel wrapped around his shoulders when he inhaled the savory smell of breakfast on the first floor. As Altair sat on the high counter stool, Petra turned around from cutting up fruits and placed too many plates in front of the boy with a smile. He couldn’t control the twitch in his eyebrows as he stared at his breakfast. Is his twin really eating this much food every morning? He realized he might be coming off as rude since he was only staring at the number of bacon slices on his plate so Altair took a bite of bacon and let the sound of knives against the cutting board flit through his ears.

“Petra?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a cup of rose tea?”

Petra stopped cutting the mangos and stared at Altair, who was immersed in doing small bites of his breakfast. The redhead stared for a moment and assessed the way Altair picked up his fork and knife — it was the same way a certain someone did back in college when Levi’s friend group and lover ate meals together. Now that Petra remembered it; when you gave birth to the twins, she mentioned how one of them inherited the shape of your eyes. It could be a trick of the light but Altair’s eyes were softer in the edges instead of the sharpness Levi adorned, the boy’s eyelashes slightly fuller than usual.

“Petra?”

The said woman jumped at the mention of her name, with Altair’s face scrunched up in worry at her lack of response. She cleared her throat while transferring the mangos in a small bowl, sliding it towards Altair. “Yeah?”

The silver-eyed boy rose an eyebrow. “Are you alright? You look like you were in a trance there.”

“I’m fine.” Petra washed her hands before wiping them dry with a clean towel. Her gaze went from the boy’s expectant stare to his unfinished breakfast. This was weird. Altair usually never leaves any leftovers on his plate, it was what Levi taught him since he could eat on his own. Pushing this matter at the back of her mind, she smiled. “You’re not going to finish that, Al?”

Altair looked down on his half-eaten scrambled eggs, bacon slices, and still full pasta salad. He only had a couple of bites from the last dish and wished he could eat more but the two slices of bacon and scrambled eggs made him full in an instant. His stomach couldn’t handle too much in an early hour. He needed the tea to wash all this down. “No, I’m not, I think I’m full,” he answered, patting his stomach with a grin. He hoped Petra wouldn’t notice that his appetite wasn’t like his twin. That idiot (his twin, never Petra) appeared small like him but the buffoon has a vacuum inside his torso, always hungry at the wee hours of the day. If this was roast beef, this was a different story. “Must be because I’m tired from the trip. I don’t feel like eating and moving around too much.”

Petra nodded in understanding, preparing the rose tea the boy requested. She was waiting for the water to boil as she glanced at Levi’s pride and joy. “So why rose tea?”

“Pardon?”

Pardon? With a suppressed chuckle, Petra turned around with an incredulous expression on her face. “Camp made you prim and proper, huh? So why rose tea, champ?”

“Because I thought it would be nice to try the flower teas instead of the fruit-flavored ones this time. I know Dad has been experimenting with flowers for the next blends.”

Petra hummed, letting the tea steep for a few minutes. The scent of roses immediately wafted across the kitchen, making the two sigh in contentment. Petra wasn’t one for tea but smelling the pink drink made her want to try one. She presented the cup of rose tea to the black-haired boy, who was leaning forward to finally have his drink, his silver eyes sparkling at the small petals floating on top of his tea. Petra knew she was watching Altair closely but all her doubts flew out the window when she witnessed the boy hold the teacup the same way Levi does. Maybe she was looking into this too much. She shook her head and took away the leftovers, placing them in containers.

She missed the way Altair blew out a sigh of relief, a small half-smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

Altair stood up from his seat, patting his lap from imaginary dust and placing the towel from his shoulders to the back of the counter stool. He took a long sip of his tea before grinning widely at his nanny. “Thank you so much for breakfast, Petra!”

“No problem, kiddo. Oh, and your Dad wants to talk to you about something. He’s in his office.”

“Okay!”

The black-haired boy walked past the archway leading to the living room, where the glass double doors to the patio were located. Snuggling on the floor and chewing on his toy was Levi’s golden retriever, Captain. Altair flinched when he saw the dog shift their head in his direction. A series of barks came out of the pet, making the boy hurry for the handles of the double doors. His heart was pounding when he couldn’t get the doors to open, pulling on them as Captain was now standing up to give him another round of barks. It caught the attention of Petra and the woman instantly shot to the living room but not before shouting something that made Altair’s ears turn red of embarrassment.

“Push, Al.” Petra was now wrapping her arms around the dog, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

Altair stopped for a moment, twisting the handles of the double doors and pushing them just as Petra said. He turned around with a sheepish smile, chuckling nervously because this mistake might have lost him the plan. “Must have slipped my mind.” He had never gotten out of a house that quickly in his entire life.

Only when he stepped foot on the patio that he could breathe normally. Altair kicked a pebble on the pathway, hands snug inside his pockets, as he thought about what his father will tell him. He followed the pathway until he was met with a slope, a building looking the main estate was sitting on top of the small hill overlooking the plantation. With a bundle of nerves swirling in his stomach, Altair took a deep breath and trekked the hill. The higher he got, hectares of a variety of tea trees greeted his vision, mimicking the sea with its vastness. It was the first time he saw something so wide and before he knew it, questions started entering his mind.

If the Ackerman family held so much money, why did his grandparents make his mum go back to London? Why did they take away the only person who made her feel loved in every sort of way possible? She could’ve been happy here. Everything is so soothing and secure.

The sound of people talking snapped him back to reality. Altair shook his head and continued his small walk towards the building. It looked like there was more activity in here than he imagined. People were sorting out the tea leaves they harvested and others were manning a machine meant for grounding the leaves. It was so busy that he didn’t realize he stopped in front of the huge window showing all of the employees trying to keep Levi’s business booming.

A person rounding the building noticed his gawking and smiled a little. They clutched the flowers they picked for the new blends Levi was experimenting on and went to the black-haired boy. “Al, welcome home. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday to welcome you back.”

The silver-eyed boy turned around to the young woman sharing his features — the same jet-black hair, pale complexion, and shade of silver for the eyes (though hers were more on the bluish side of the spectrum). He tried recalling the family members his brother told him to remember. There was a woman with the same appearance in one of the pictures. She was hugging the Altair she knows, their smiles shining through the piece of shiny paper. She was the older cousin his twin was telling so many stories about since she was the only one closer to his age around the household. The Altair standing in front of her right now smiled, muttering her name, “Mikasa.”

Mikasa returned the smile with her own, sitting on her heels to meet the boy’s eyes. “How was camp?”

“My opponent in a fencing competition pushed me in the washing area of our pavilion.”

Mikasa winced, ruffling the boy’s hair gently. “Why did they do that?”

Altair shrugged, feeling proud of himself for doing that to his twin despite being guilty to this day. “Guess he was better than me at fencing. He has a teacher specifically for that sport back in their hometown.”

“Oh, wow. If you want someone to practice fencing with, I’ll gladly help you.” The young woman tilted her head with a smile. “That is if you want to go back to that camp next summer. I’ll even learn the rules for you.”

The older of the two had so many records in her portfolio. Altair recalled that his brother was gushing about how Mikasa was a part of the track and field team the entirety of her stay in college. She was also a part of a volleyball club when she was in high school. This young woman has everything in her belt and it would be so good if Altair practiced fencing with her. However, he also realized that Mikasa probably had her hands full with academic and familial responsibilities. “But you have your final year in college, though, and you’re so busy in the plantation.”

Mikasa once again tousled Altair’s hair, chuckling under her breath. “Anything for my baby cousin so don’t worry about it.” She looked down at the pile of flowers in her arms. She handed a single red lily flower to Altair. “Here, to brighten up your day.” Mikasa stood up and waved at Altair. “I’m testing these flowers out with some berries, kiddo. I’ll be in the kitchen by the sorting room with Annie. If we can get the right combination, we’ll let you try some. Your dad is in his office waiting for you.” With that, Mikasa turned around but not before ruffling Altair’s hair again.

Altair nodded at nobody in particular and entered the building with a slight skip in his steps. The office was situated on the second floor of the manor-like establishment. The color palette of red and olive green was still observed in the interior but the large, open balcony let in enough light to illuminate the second floor. There was a railing surrounding the middle space of the entire floor, perfect for looking down and observing the bustling life inside the house. Altair’s destination, however, was the door to the left side of the second floor down a painting-covered hallway. He tentatively knocked on the door with his father’s name pinned on it. Altair faintly heard someone call inside the room and opened the door to peek his head in.

Levi was behind his desk, phone close to his ear. “Yes, Erwin. I thought you will be visiting because of Altair today. I see. No problem. You can visit the plantation anytime.” He glanced at the opened door, seeing Altair meekly staring at him. He smiled a little before telling Erwin, “Al’s here. Yeah. The stocks are fine and the new blends are coming out great. Sure, I’ll send you some. Bye.” The silver-eyed man sighed as he placed his phone on the desk. “You can come in, Al. Usually, you just barge in here and wait for me on the couch.” Levi hummed, eyes softening at the sight of his son grinning in front of him.

Altair chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I thought it was an important call.”

“It was just Eyebrows.”

“Whatever you say, Dad.”

The boy sat on the couch, eyes inconspicuously roaming around the office. He heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and Altair looked up to find his dad preparing a cup of tea in the kitchenette installed in the room. He looked away from Levi and shifted his attention to the framed photographs on the desk. Everything wasn’t facing him but there was one frame positioned to face the person behind the desk. Altair craned his neck to get a glimpse of the picture, his eyes going back and forth between the frame and his dad, who was waiting for the tea to steep. With his body draping over the couch and neck stretching as far as he could (the position was starting to hurt), Altair saw that it was a picture of you, his mum. The silver-eyed boy gasped because it was you in a wedding dress.

“Blimey.”

“Al?”

Altair dropped the position with a huff. He straightened himself to face a confused Levi, a tray of two teacups filled with raspberry tea held by his hands. “Thought I could just, you know,” he nervously chuckled, “get a good stretch after oversleeping. So what’s up, Dad?”

Levi hummed, placing the tray on the low table. He sat beside Altair, body facing the little boy as he surveyed the innocent smile plastered on his son as he sipped on his cup of tea, the two of them mirroring how they held their cups. Maybe it was because Al went away for summer camp in the last eight weeks or maybe he was just missing you and your presence in his life, but Levi felt his heart clench at how fast his little boy was growing. The summer camp must be a blessing in disguise because his boy came home with newfound manners and the whole time he was away, he thought hard enough to make a decision he won’t come to regret. Eight weeks was a long time, things are bound to change. So Levi cleared his throat and readied himself in spilling his carefully thought-out plans to his son.

“There’s something really important I want to talk to you about, Al,” Levi started, putting this teacup back on the low table.

“That’s funny because there’s something really important that I want to talk to you about.”

“Yeah? Well, you go first, kiddo.”

Altair shook his head rapidly, gulping down his tea first. “No, you first, Dad.”

“Hmm.” The black-haired man carefully formulated the words in his mind. The first order of business was to cut off any people who would dare hurt his son. Yesterday was just the catalyst in his ongoing debate with Petra all summer to get rid of the publicist leeching off of him. From the look on Altair’s face while he was wading in the pool, Levi figured that Cynthia said something to him that might have shaken his mind. He leveled his gaze with Altair’s and told him, “Okay, I want to talk to you about Cynthia, the hired publicist for the teahouse and plantation.”

The boy turned his body so that he was seeing his father eye to eye. “And I wanted to talk to you about Mom.” Altair furrowed his eyebrows in distaste. “Oh, so Cynthia’s her name. What about Cynthia?”

Levi blinked in surprise. He knew Altair was a smart kid but he didn’t expect him to pick up on things so fast. There was no one in the estate that he shared his current sentiments. Petra was known to be a person not careful enough to keep a secret hidden from Altair and Erwin will most likely tease Levi throughout the day if he revealed his plans. Not to mention that Mikasa will probably indulge his kid in spilling every embarrassing thing about him so that makes his niece out of the list of people worthy enough to be told a secret.

With a calm voice, he regarded his little him with a flat expression. “What about your mom?”

Altair groaned in exasperation. “Dad, I’m almost twelve. I’m at a point in my life to ask about the whereabouts of my mom. You can’t expect me to believe the stork story all my life!”

A slow inhale and a look at the ceiling was all Levi needed to compose himself. “You know what, that is a story for later. But first, we’re going to talk about the publicist. Did she say anything to you? Anything that might have hurt you in any way yesterday?”

One pair of gray eyes looked away from the other to examine the invisible dust gathering on top of the coffee table. Altair wanted to tell Levi that Cynthia was trying to exploit him, trying to wound him in her trap and to make him fall in love with her. But the way that his father was insisting on the topic of Cynthia instead of you didn’t sit right with him at all. To Altair, it looked like Levi was desperate to clean the woman’s name and to make him build a relationship with her when the time comes that she’ll be carrying the Ackerman name. He mentally apologized to his other half across the ocean for not having the strength to continue the plan. Because as he glanced at Levi, the man’s concern apparent on the glint of his eyes, Altair wanted his father to be happy — to love someone without any pain that spanned for more than a decade.

“No, she didn’t say anything to me. She just told me how happy she is to be on the plantation.”

As much as he was scared to be a father when his boys were born, Levi always knew if his son was lying after years of raising Altair alone (with the help of Petra but the nanny will always give him the credit). Right now, however, he couldn’t tell if Al was lying or not. “Al, are you telling me the truth? If not—“

The door burst open, bringing with it an overly dramatic woman. “Levi? Are you here, sweetie?”

Eld followed after Cynthia, his face betraying his aggravation at the woman. “Don’t just enter Levi’s office without permission, Ma’am!”

Cynthia scoffed, insulted at the term. “'Ma’am’?! I’m not that old, employee.”

The blonde man bristled. He tried puffing his chest to remind the publicist that he has more authority than just a last-minute accommodation in the staff, but he stopped when he saw Levi starting to stand up from the couch. He had never seen his boss express anger in his years of being Levi’s secretary, however, the apparent look on the onyx-haired man will probably drive Cynthia more than six feet under the surface. Eld dismissed Cynthia with a roll of his eyes, focusing on the annoyed man walking towards them with terrifying footsteps. “Levi, she just went inside the building. Believe me, we were trying to prevent her from getting her head cut off by you but she wouldn’t listen!” The blonde glared at the woman who was gasping dramatically, manicured hand pressed on her chest. “Levi, you have to believe me. Mikasa even had to—“

“I understand, Eld.” Levi’s voice was uncharacteristically icy. Sure, he was known for being blunt and dismissive at times but that was the man's nature in forming social relationships. The employees were used to him being that way. Right now, though, his glare could have frozen Cynthia in place. “What is this, Miss Maryland? I thought I told you to leave a message to my secretary if you want to have an appointment with me. But I remember telling you that I’m not free this day.”

Cynthia pouted. “But I also told you that I wanted to have lunch with you! Is your job more important than me? Or are you just using that as an excuse to not make time for me?”

Eld looked scandalized at the woman’s reaction while Altair was wincing at the sound of Cynthia’s whine.

Levi was praying for his ears as well, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself down. He looked at Altair at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t recall you being on my priority list, Miss Maryland, and I have plans with Al today anyway. Horseback riding.”

“You’re lying!” The woman turned to Altair. “Is this true, Al, darling?”

The boy quickly took note of the hint of desperation from his father’s eyes so he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be riding Nox since I miss my horse while I was at camp.”

“You heard my kid,” Levi drawled. “Now get out. You’re invading my privacy — sounds fitting for your job.”

Cynthia’s face scrunched in disgust, turning around abruptly, her hair hitting Eld in the face. The blonde man sputtered before incredulously staring at the retreating publicist. There wouldn’t be any need for Mikasa to restrain her if needed since she knew the way out. Eld turned back to Levi and Altair, his face showing how guilty he was. “Levi, I’m really sorry. If I’d known she’ll barge in here like this.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you, Eld.”

“Alright.” Eld trailed off, shifting his attention from Levi to Altair. He waved at Levi’s son before pointing at the door behind. “Have a great afternoon, you two.”

Levi nodded at his friend, sitting on the couch with a sigh when the door closed. He had to get rid of that publicist, she was starting to become a headache. Levi then felt a small weight on his shoulder. Turning his head to the side, a head of onyx hair greeted his vision. With a small smile, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around Altair, letting him snuggle into his side some more. The two of them cherished the silence as if the room was their haven, away from pesky publicists and the bustling activity a floor below.

Speeding through the plantation felt liberating for Altair. He wanted to raise his arms in the air as they zoomed by the small tea trees but that would mean having Levi being suspicious of him. At first, Altair thought that the predicament with Captain would be the same with Nox but the black beauty of a horse nuzzled his palm affectionately as if he was the real owner. Of course, it couldn’t happen without the help of the sugar cubes laid out on his palm. Now, he was laughing as he raced with his dad, their destination was the hill on the other side of the plantation. It looked like Levi was winning but Altair tried to spur Nox faster. A blur of black reached their landmark, a tree with a swing on it, and Altair whooped at the top of his lungs.

“I won!”

“You always win,” Levi told him, a loving stare directed at his son.

Altair turned his horse to meet Levi’s stare. “I do?”

A confused frown painted the silver-eyed man’s lips.

At that, Altair brightened immediately, realizing his mistake. “I do! Just slipped my mind again. I can’t seem to stop forgetting things. That’s so weird.”

Levi guided his horse to walk towards Altair’s. “Yeah, so weird,” he murmured until he was beside his son. They stared at the plantation with varying expressions. The boy looked so mesmerized at how the sun touched every single tree while Levi blankly surveyed the rows of what brought him to this moment. It was once upon a time when he brought you here during spring break in junior year at college, telling you his dreams of starting a tea plantation. You looked radiant against the sunset, the rays creating a halo that Levi wanted to preserve forever. Altair’s laugh when he won has the same smile as yours when you manage to outrun him in a race. Levi couldn’t help but think of a life with you and the twins here in the plantation and estate, the two boys growing up with each other and with both parents unlike now. The four of you wouldn’t experience the pain brought by the separation. But reality struck him hard when Altair breathed out an expelling sigh, eyes soft around the corners like yours.

“So, Al, do you think we’re lonely?”

The said boy looked at his dad, who was wistfully looking at the plantation like it was hurting him. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Altair’s grip on the reins tightened. “Why are you asking this, Dad?”

Levi took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, Al, but I feel lonely every night. The moon and the stars must be tired of my internal monologues to them, all wishing to have a normal night with our complete family. But with Maryland here, there seems to be someone at the back of my head telling me to make a move. You know what, Al, I want—“

“Race you back to the ranch, Dad!”

“What—wait, Al! Hey, slow down, kiddo!”

Tears were starting to blur Altair’s vision as he rode around the plantation. No, the plan wasn’t going to work. His twin brother was a liar when he said he had an amazing and genius plan. Everything was starting to burn in flames and Altair had no choice but to watch it fester until only ashes remain. When he reached the stables, he tied the reins to the post with hurried yet precise knots. And Altair ran and ran. Up the slope leading to the manor, past the building where the workers were happily interacting with another until he felt himself bumping into someone. He brushed off a concerned Mikasa shouting at him to slow down. Minutes later, Levi passed by the fretting young woman, the latter asking if Altair was alright. But the onyx-haired boy finally reached the safe confines of their manor, passing by the opened double doors. He started pacing around the living room.

Altair buried his hands in his hair, his accent coming out as he rambled. “This isn’t going the way he expected it to. Bonkers, this is a mess! I’m just a kid and I couldn’t handle everything at once. Now, Mum’s getting married to a person I don’t know and Dad is tying the knot with Cindy—Cassandra—whatever!” He leaned on the back of an armchair, body slumping on the plush cushion. “And I don’t even know Dad as much as he does. How am I supposed to fix this?”

“What are you trying to fix?” Petra suddenly appeared in the armchair. (She was there all along but she figured that by keeping quiet, she will learn more about why Altair acted strangely since he came home.) The redhead stood up, arms crossed on her chest. “Do you want to share something with the class, Al?”

Altair jumped back, placing a hand on top of his pounding heart. “You gave me a fright, Petra.”

Petra leaned back with an expression of disbelief. “What? Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk to me about? If you’re scared of your dad finding out your secrets right now, you can always tell me.” Altair remained silent as he stared wide-eyed at the nanny and housekeeper. “Care to explain to me why Captain doesn’t like you anymore when he has been with you since you were a toddler? Or how you can’t open the doors properly? Even your appetite change this morning. I have so many questions, Al, and it all stemmed from when you came home. Do you know something we don’t?”

The boy shrugged. That didn’t seem to alleviate the suspiciousness he carried. “I just changed over the summer, that’s all.”

Petra slowly took a step forward and tilted her head down to meet Altair’s eyes. “I’m starting to think you were raised …” She shook her head to dispel the thought and turned around to make herself busy in the kitchen. “That’s impossible. Never mind. I must be needing sleep from all these theories.”

“I am raised by who, Petra?”

She waved her hand to dismiss the question. “Forget it, Al. I’m not supposed to talk to you about this anyway.”

“Like I’m raised by [Name] [Last Name]? Like I’m the other half of one pair of twins?”

The redhead tensed at the question, her smile frozen in place. She managed to blink herself outside of her stupor, slowly regarding the onyx-haired boy, who was gradually turning into an image of you. Those eyes, though sharing Levi’s stormy irises, were reminiscent of your kind ones — always appearing as soft as they can be despite the intensity of a present glare. Petra was at a loss for words and she had to clear her throat a couple of times to find her voice. “How do you know her full name? How do you know that you have a twin, Al? How do you know about—?”

“About Caelum?” The boy pursed his lips, forcing himself to smile. He dropped the act because there was no use continuing their charade any further. Besides, this is Petra, the most loyal person from what he could observe during a full day in the Ackerman estate. She reminded him of Oluo, the way they stuck to each parent almost every day. His British accent came out when he said the next words, “That’s because I am Caelum.”

If this wasn’t a serious situation, Caelum would’ve laughed at Petra’s reaction.

“Altair?!”

Levi looked around when he stepped foot on the patio. However, he was surprised at the peculiar scenario welcoming him in the living room — it was as if Petra was looking at his son for the first time in years. The redhead had both hands covering her mouth, tears prickling her eyes, and an expression showing disbelief. He rose an eyebrow in incredulity because nobody paid him any attention. With measured footsteps, Levi placed a hand on his son’s shoulders, making the boy jump a few inches in the air.

“Hey, buddy,” his voice was so soft since his boy looked shaken up just as much as Petra, “why did you take off on me like that? I told you I wanted to talk to you about something.” His son looked up at him with wide eyes so Levi expectantly glanced at Petra. The woman was still silent with that constipated look on her face. “Petra, do you need to take a shit? Why are you looking at Al like that?”

Caelum was breathing heavily, eyes pleading with Petra to let him tell Levi the truth.

With a subtle nod, Petra wiped her eyes and turned to Levi, who had his face scrunched in perplexity. “Like what? I’m not looking at him in a special way.” She shrugged but with one look at the bright-eyed boy beside her friend, her voice started to falter. “I’m looking at him like I’ve looked at him for eleven years. Since the day he came home from the hospital, all wrapped up and squirming for contact with his parents.” Petra looked like she could cry any minute. (Levi was staring at her like she had grown a second head. He was ready to give her a day-off.) “Seven pounds, five ounces, 21 inches long. This is how I look at him.”

Caelum felt himself smile as Petra gestured at him.

“Can I hug him?”

Levi blinked and stayed silent for a second. He lifted his hand from his son’s shoulder and stepped back since Petra wrapped the boy in a tight hug. He felt the back of an armchair behind him, leaning against it with a sigh. “Everybody’s so weird.”

As the woman continued hugging Caelum, she exclaimed, “Oh, he’s so beautiful and he’s grown so much.” The boy nuzzled his head on the crook of his nanny’s neck, a large smile painted on his face.

For once in his life, Levi wanted to sleep the day off. Maybe everything might go back to normal.

Petra pulled away from the hug, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. She pointed at Caelum while trying to control her voice from shaking. “I’m going to make you something special to eat. What do you feel like eating? Anything? You know what?” She waved her hand once she reached the entrance of the kitchen. “I’ll just whip up something from everything we’ve got, okay?” With a last nod and an apologetic smile directed at Levi, Petra went to the kitchen whilst wiping her tears, leaving behind the two Ackermans’.

Now that heartfelt moment ended, Levi knew he had to tell his son what’s weighing on his mind for the past years. All it took were eight weeks for him to steel himself in making a choice he won’t come to regret. If only he had done this when you gave him your back, a baby looking like him snug in your arms and reaching out to a father he won’t come to have. If only he had chased you to London, fighting for your love in front of your parents, promising a life filled with enough luxury for your newfound family. If only he had the strength back then, none of this would’ve happened. So Levi gently directed his son to the couches, sitting in front of the boy on the low table. Their gazes matched each other and it looked like Levi was staring at his younger self.

“We have to talk.” The onyx-haired man’s voice was so soft, matching his visage that was contorted in slight wariness and expectation.

Caelum nodded. “Okay. Shoot, Dad.”

Levi nodded back. “I’ve been thinking about this since you were a toddler and this summer was the only time I could focus on debating with myself on it.” He took a deep breath, his heart thundering in his chest, and his cheeks burning. “Al, I want to get back together with your mom.”

The whole world stopped. Caelum stopped breathing for a few seconds. There was a lack of emotions inside him at first, him just staring like an idiot at Levi. Suddenly, he felt like jumping but that would look suspicious so Caelum abruptly stood up in front of his dad, tingles traveling in every fiber of his body.

“Al?” Levi asked, confused at the constipated look on his little boy.

Bright gray eyes stared back at Levi, Caelum’s grin erasing every doubt in his father’s body. “This is perfect, Dad!”

“It is?” The onyx-haired man trailed off before perking up a little, a small grin tugging his mouth upwards. “Yeah, it is. I decided that I will do everything right this time and have our family back again.” He looked down wistfully on the floor, fingers wringing with each other. He murmured under his breath, “I wonder how Caelum’s doing right now. Will he like me? I’m not exactly awarded with the best father of the year title.”

On the other hand, Caelum heard it and he couldn’t help but grin knowingly. He erased that on his face when Levi looked up at him. “So, Dad, what are you going to do about Cindy?”

“What about the publicist?”

Caelum sat back down, leaning forward to enunciate his next words. “Well, it’s quite obvious that she’s so enamored by you.”

Levi scoffed a disdainful laugh. “Why would she? I’m not interested in her in some way. I don’t even like women her age.”

“That’s the thing, Dad. I heard from her yesterday that you’re planning on telling me something. I figured it would involve her since she suggested it. It might be a different thing than what you told me right now.”

“Oh, that. I decided, with the help of Petra and the other workers, that you will be the face of the tea shop. Since I am not too comfortable with the idea of having my pictures posted on every branch, a majority vote prompted you to do the job. But Mikasa suggested that we also do that by putting you in the new label design. It doesn’t have to have your face on it, just your silhouette. I think Isabelle will do that well enough.”

“So,” Caelum prolonged the word, “you’re not engaged to her, right?”

Levi looked ready to barf his lunch. “What? Where the hell did you get that idea?”

A sheepish smile prevented the laugh that was bubbling in Caelum’s chest. “I tend to overthink at times, Dad.”

The silver-eyed man sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You get that from me.”

“I asked you that because yesterday, she told me you proposed to her because you wanted me to have a mother figure. She even told me you dated because you liked her at first sight. She mentioned that you went horseback riding in the sunset like a typical chick flick pairing and there you confessed that you felt lonely because Mom left you. Oh, I mustn’t forget how you reciprocated her feelings under a moonlit night. Hey, Dad, where are you going? Dad?”

“Don’t mind me, Al, I’m killing a bitch this afternoon and it’s best if you stay put while I do that.”

“Dad?!”

Cynthia Maryland is a fucking menace to society.

It has been so long since Levi met a person who just by talking, brain cells are diminishing at every word they utter. The first one who made him feel this way was a genius, however, they were too much for his social battery. They always hung off of him at times during college all because they were your childhood friend, who followed you to America to make you feel like you had someone in a foreign country back then. That was seen as endearing but this time, it’s fucking irritating. Levi didn’t even have to control himself from showing how much he wanted this meeting to be over.

“Miss Maryland, can you please listen to me for one second?” Levi spat out, the stress coming to him in a migraine.

“I am listening, doll, and I guess those plans with Altair didn’t happen because you have me in your office — doors closed and just the two of us,” Cynthia spoke in a sultry voice that didn’t have any effect on the man slumped on his chair. “I will do anything for you, Mr. Ackerman.”

“Thank God for that.”

Cynthia was over the stars at that statement.

“Because I believe it’s time for your job as my shop’s publicist to be terminated. So I suggest getting out of here.”

“What?!” The brunette all but shrieked.

At the commotion, a knock resonated in the room. “Levi, is everything all right in there?” Mikasa asked. “Do you need me to restrain her?”

“No need, Mikasa,” Levi answered, not looking away from the distressed woman squawking in front of him. “Hey, Maryland, what are you whining about? Didn’t you hear what I just said? You’re fired. What are you still doing here?”

“Pray tell, why are you firing me?! You need me!”

Levi rose an eyebrow. “Why would I need you when I have capable people working on the plantation right now? It was a mistake hiring you. Eld was actually the one who wanted to have a publicist for the tea shops and if my secretary said it would be beneficial to the business, I will always say yes. But I guess he hired the wrong person. As for the question of why I fired you, let’s just say, you were spewing things that weren’t even true. And of all people, you said those things to my son. What are you trying to gain from telling him we’re fucking engaged? Money? My last name?”

The brunette remained silent, angry tears dripping on her cheeks.

“Let me tell you this, Miss Maryland, you’re not worth those things. So if you don’t want me to get fucking angry at you, get the fuck out.”

While the whole debacle with Cynthia was happening in Levi’s office, Caelum was in the kitchen rolling a pin over a chunk of dough. The silver-eyed boy was helping Petra with the afternoon snacks, something that the nanny suggested since Caelum looked bored out of his mind, staring into the high ceiling of the living room while lying on the long couch. Only half an hour passed since Levi stormed into his office, demanding Eld to contact ‘that hysterical fucking woman’, and only two batches of apple turnovers were ready for the oven. There were a lot of workers on the plantation, all of them having big appetites, so Caelum and Petra had a lot of work to do.

Caelum just finished his story of meeting Altair for the first time and his shoulders felt so light after spilling everything out.

Petra pensively gave Caelum a wistful glance. “I’m happy that you two found each other.”

The boy looked up at the redhead. An air of earnest gratitude exuded from her, the idea of two twins reuniting was worth being happy about. Petra wasn’t the only one thanking the moon and stars for granting a request, Caelum felt like his world expanded because of that summer camp. “I am happy, too. I got to meet you, Mikasa, and the workers. I want this stay to last longer than a day but Al and I will eventually go back to our rightful homes.”

“Why are you being sad, kiddo? Didn’t Levi tell you that he’s planning on courting your mom again?”

“That’s the thing,” Caelum mumbled. The dough became too thin to wrap around apple fillings at the force he was pressing down on the rolling pin. He sighed, starting over again. “Mum is engaged to someone in London. I can’t even do anything about it.”

Petra hummed casually. “But Altair can.” Beside her, Caelum once again shifted his attention from the dough to her side profile, making her smile. “One thing I know about Al through the years is that he will do everything to make his plan a success. That brother of yours is a stubborn kid but he’s determined to fulfill his goal, which so happens to be what Levi’s planning, too.” She placed the knife on the cutting board, leaving the apples unattended, and faced Caelum with a half-smile. “How about this, you want to make this a success?”

Caelum nodded.

“Then tell your dad who you really are.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “No!” He looked down, cursing himself for raising his voice at Petra. “I mean, he’ll be mad for sure.”

The redhead chuckled before pointing a ladle at Caelum. “That’s where you’re wrong. Levi was always praying every night to have a glimpse of his other son across the sea. Now that you’re here, you’ll be giving him the happiness he always wanted for eleven years. He deserves to hug you, knowing who you are.”

This is how Caelum found himself standing in front of Levi’s bedroom. It was inevitable anyway — his dad finding out his real identity. Letting out a sigh, Caelum twisted the doorknob with clammy hands, opening the door to the image of Levi reading a book on his bed. The boy smiled when Levi looked up at the sound of the door opening.

Levi took off his reading glasses and smiled. “Hey, kiddo, come in.” He lifted his covers as an invitation for the tentative boy. When Caelum got on the bed, Levi placed his book on the nightstand along with his glasses. For a moment, he only looked at his son with soft eyes as Caelum adjusted the duvet to cover his lap. He pulled him close with an arm around the boy’s shoulders, letting Caelum relax against him. “Did you have a nightmare?” Levi felt his son shake his head. “Is something bothering you?” At the silence, Levi looked down on Caelum's onyx hair. He kissed the side of the boy’s head. “I hope you will feel better once we spend the rest of the day tomorrow.”

“I can’t, Dad, I’m sorry.” It was a low murmur that Levi had to crane his head to hear. “I have to go somewhere tomorrow.”

“And where will this somewhere be? Is Mikasa going with you? Or did Petra invite you to go get the groceries?”

The silver-eyed boy squirmed out of Levi’s hold, burying himself in the think blankets.

“Al? Are you feeling unwell? Kiddo?” Levi tried tickling his son’s sides but was only met with muffled laughs. “Al.”

A British accent enveloped the words Caelum uttered next, “That’s where I’m going! I have to go see Altair.”

“And where might Altair be?”

A pause. “In London.” Levi froze. “With his mum, [Name] [Last Name].”

It was as if cold water surrounded Levi, dunking him in a fever dream. It was too good to be true. Of all the surprises he received for the day, this is by far the most responsible for taking away his voice and steady breathing. He couldn’t think properly at the revelation. So this was the reason why Petra looked like she saw the boy for the first time because she did, after eleven years. His heartbeat echoed through his chest, making a duet with his clattering mind. Levi didn’t know what to do. Should he embrace the son he never got to hug in almost twelve years or should he stay quiet and let the night go on, pretending that this was a dream? His eyes started to burn with unshed tears as he carefully lifted the edge of the duvet off the small figure lying beside him. There was no way this was happening. But as he finally got a glimpse of his son staring up at him, eye shape boring some similarities to yours, Levi let out a shaky breath.

“Caelum?”

Caelum sat up. “Yes, Dad?”

Levi’s vision became blurry, arms instantly wrapping around Caelum. He hugged him tightly, worried that this might be a trick of his loneliness, that this was Altair pretending to be his twin to make him happy. But no. He knew Altair like the back of his hand and if he hugged him like this, the little brat would whine at the long physical contact. This was Caelum, hands gentle like yours as they patted his back. He didn’t know he was crying until Caelum rubbed rhythmic circles on his back to calm him down.

“Al and I met at camp and we decided to switch places.” His breath hitched, nuzzling his head on Levi’s chest. “Dad, I’ve dreamt my whole life of finally meeting you. Seeing you waiting at the airport nearly made me cry because you were exactly like Mum’s vague stories. And Al wanted to meet Mum as well so we sort of made the switch impulsively.”

Levi pulled away, a smile present on his face. “Who exactly made this plan?”

“Never in my life would I suggest switching places with my twin. I told Al this is an idiotic plan yet here we are.”

Levi snorted a laugh. “Of course it’s Al’s idea.”

“But Dad …”

“Hmm?” The man waited patiently for his little heaven to speak up.

“I hope you’re not raging at the moment because I love you so much and I just hope that one day, you will love me as me — not as a mirror image of Al.”

Levi pulled Caelum again in a hug, kissing the boy on the crown of his head. “Did you know I was the one who named you?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Since your mom named Altair after a star, I thought it would be best if you were named after the realm the star is situated. You’re my little heaven, Cae, and nothing can change that. I’ve loved you your whole life. Stop being a mopey little brat — I meant that term in the most endearing way possible because your mother was the original one, she was my pain in the ass — and give your dad another hug.”

Caelum felt like he forgot something, choosing this moment to never mention you being engaged to someone and instead chose to let his dad’s warm hugs lull him to sleep.

taglist:

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[taeyamayang]

hq boys as fur parents

disclaimer: purely based on how I perceive each character

PRETTY SETTERS ed.

🌃 KAGEYAMAㅡSTRAY PUPPY

a stray dog followed him on his way home from practice one day. he tried to shoo it off but the little puppy has already fallen in love with him. left with no choice, he takes the dog home. he convinces himself that he would let it stay for a night or two until he finds an owner. he hopes hinata is fond of dogs. upon reaching his home, the puppy kept biting onto the hem of his pants as if it's asking him for something. maybe it's hungry, he thought. albeit, having no experience of taking care of a pet he googles 'how to take care of a puppy'. he pulls the handle of the refrigerator open to search for leftover table food. he spoons out marinated sweet pork from the container then proceeded to feed the puppy. he squats down, folding his knees as he observes it eat. "finish it, i can't put it back in the container. don't throw food, you asked for this." he talks to the puppy using his normal voice. the poor dog glances at him for a bit after hearing him talk before going back to devouring the remaining bits and pieces of the pork. shortly after, the puppy falls asleep. it is probably tired from the long walk on the way home. kageyama proceeds with his usual routine. he lies down on his bed tossing a volleyball in his hand. his mind wandering off somewhere mostly about volleyball. a tiny bark surprises him, reminding him of the tiny intruder in his house. he squints at the small puppy wagging its tail next to his bed. its front legs are slightly bent down and his butt in the air. he barks at him one more time. kageyama crosses his eyebrows at the dog. "what do you want?" he says spinning the ball in one hand. the dog barks at him again. his lips purses and his eyebrow raises. "you want to play?" he wiggles the ball in the air making the dog jump excitedly. "alright." he pushes himself off his bed to sit on the floor. he spends the next few hours playing with the puppy until both of them pass out.

🌃 OIKAWAㅡPOMERANIAN

iwaizumi didn't trust him with the dog, obviously, but oikawa insisted on taking care of it for a while until mattsun comes back from vacation. knowing how impatient oikawa can be iwaizumi agrees with his plan but with the condition of sending him an hourly update and a permission to visit his house whenever he wants to. like a parent in shared child custody. the first few hours were smooth sailing and oikawa is high on his horse. he even sent pictures to iwaizumi gloating about his perfect parenting. not until the pomeranian decided to bark consistently at him. even though, he has given it food, toy and even played with it, and a nice comforter to sleep on. "what is it?" oikawa exasperatedly says to the dog. the pom barks at him in response. "do you want me to hold you?" he nears his hand to the dog's torso but it wriggles his hand off as it bounces off the ground catching his hands using its mouth. "i don't understand what you're trying to say. what do you want?!" oikawa's patience is getting thinner. the dog has been barking at him for more than five minutes straight now. an petty idea struck him. if the dog won't shut up then he won't too. he does the thing that only an oikawa breed does; he levels his body down to the ground to meet the dog's eyes before barking back at him. for a second, the dog pulls back tilting its head to the side confused with what he was doing before barking back at him more aggressively this time. this has become some odd battle of dominance. the front door of their house opens to a dark-haired boy. "hey, toru i brought some dog treats." his mouth falls at the sight of a human turned dog. oikawa stops and their eyes meet. "iwa-chan." his voice came out in a whisper. "unbelievable." iwaizumi shakes his head before shutting the door close.

🌃 KENMAㅡCALICO CAT

kenma isn't the best at taking care of a living breathing thing. he barely has the energy to look out for his well-being what more to a pet. but this calico cat outside their house pleads the bare minimum of attention and affection. so, they work perfectly well together. it only asks him for food then it goes off to sleep on their roof and food isn't his biggest problem since he spares her food from dinner. everything was going well until one day when kenma was walking down the empty streets of his neighborhood. he hears a whimpering sound of kittens near his house. no way, he thoughts to himself. but as his footsteps near his home, the sound gets louder. he opens the gate to his home. lo and behold he sees the calico cat with her four kittens in front of their house. "you can't bring them here!" his duffle bag falls from his shoulder as he reprimands the mother cat. the cat meows back in reply. "put them back to where they were before. you only eat here. you don't get to stay here!" the calico cat rubs its body against his leg as it purrs. the kittens follow their mother, surrounding kenma. "you're too many." he puts his face on his hands. his mind go through possible solutions. then it hits him. he fishes his phone out from his bag and his finger navigates through his contacts knowing exactly who to call. he picks up after three rings. "kuroo, the calico cat has kittens. i can't take care of four more cats. take the kittens." he says in one go. kuroo convinces him to house the cat family for now. left with no alternative, kenma agrees. sigh escaping from his mouth. the older promises to find the kittens an owner. the kittens look at him with their big rounded eyes. kenma grunts to himself unable to leave the hungry cats on his porch. he goes to the kitchen to grab spare food and milk. he places the food near the mother cat for her to eat while kenma tilts his head back to taste the milk. "you're lucky the milk isn't spoiled yet. here have it." he pours the milk in a small bowl watching the kittens waddle their way to their fiest.

🌃 AKAASHIㅡOLD ENGLISH SHEEPDOG

generally, akaashi is a perceptive person so that makes it easier for him to see through people or living things and give them what they want. which points us to the fact that he has knacks for taking care of dogs. it's only been a few months since their family adopted an old english sheepdog but the dog has already learned a lot of tricks from him. he knows how to sit, lie down, roll over, and fetch. he has taught their house pet where to pee and poop and the dog follows his orders when he reprimands him for chewing on their slippers. although, still remaing nameless since they adopted him they seem to get along pretty well, to say the least. oddly, though, the dog has a weird habit. it tends to goof around a lot, barking at other dogs to play with while him as he jumps and turn in the air like a fool. he has his tongue out all the time and his eyes are round yet droopy as if he was excited yet sleepy at the same time. the dog also loves praises. every trick has to be followed by praises and treats. if you skip the praises though still giving him the treats the old english sheepdog goes through what seems like a cycle of depressive thoughts. weirdly, it reminds him of someone. someone with the same habits and same way of thinking. even the coat of the nameless english sheepdog reminds him of him. the next day during break from practice their manager, kaori, approaches akaashi to ask him about his new still nameless dog. "how do you teach it when it doesn't have a name yet?" she questions him. " I call him 'boy' before. though, it has a name now." akaashi says crossing his arms over his chest. "what is it?" kaori's eyes glimmer in curiosity only for it to dissipate as his point finger leads her sight to grey and black-headed boy. the subject of interest then turns his head pulling a big smile. "you called for me, akaashi?" bokuto says. his dog's name is bokuto.

a/n: thanks for reading!

Masterlist

[nasty-b]

Drunken Filth

A Wire x Reader x Heat Smut Fanfic. Nsfw of course. 

This is somewhat soft. Aside from the obvious fucking going on. 

When you took his offer there had been loads of alcohol in your system. Saying yes to the huge man telling you he’d rock your world had been one of the more poor decisions in your life, for sure. Yet, here you were. Currently sitting on one of two beds that was situated in the inn he was staying at with one of his pals, who seemed to be currently out. Watching him remove weapons from his body he had somehow hidden underneath his huge cloak that came from his head.

Alcohol was a friend that made some things seem like a good idea but right now not even your trusty friend of liquor could convince you that this was gonna go fine. It’s not that you thought he needed weapons to accidentally hurt you regardless. The man was built like a half god.

Broad, muscled shoulders that connected arms stringy with muscle and strength, his hands huge and probably able to wrap easily around your throat just using one hand. His torso sculpted with abs, complemented by the weird net contraption that he was currently stripping off his upper body.

Your eyes continue to roam against your better judgement to his legs that were barely covered by the net stockings he was wearing. How someone with such an odd sense of fashion managed to get into your pants in the first place was beyond you. Aside from that, you realized dimly that you bit off far more than you could chew just looking at his crotch where he seemed to already be semi hard.

He noticed your stare and gave you a sheepish but unapologetic smirk. “..Sorry about that, it has been quite a while since we hit port.” He hummed and dropped his trident on the floor, yet still close enough that he’d be able to reach it from the bed. You swallow thickly. “Huh.” You didn’t even know his fucking name- Oh god.

Before you knew it he was leaning over you, easily looming over you and pressing his face into the crook between your head and your shoulder, right next to your neck and putting both his hands on your hip. “Getting cold feet?” He sounded husky, his voice having dropped an entire octave as he shifted a little, one of his legs settling between yours, way too close to an unfamiliar heat pooling there.

Did you have cold feet? Obviously yes but somehow with him just handling you the way he did right now.. you didn’t feel like running away and for the hills. “Ah, No- I’m good.” You breathed out softly, only for your inhale to hitch when he grabbed your top and pulled it off your upper body with ease, as if he had been waiting for the reply like a permission. There goes a layer of protection!

With a shaky gasp you resist the urge to cover up as the man looming over you re-positioned himself so he could stare with a hungry gaze down at your chest, grinning like he was about to commit some serious atrocities. Technically, you suppose he was going to commit some sort of sin any second now.

You’re basically blanketed in this beefcake of a man. You’re pretty sure he has more muscles in one leg than you have in your entire body. Though you were surprised he was being so gentle.. still. You would have thought a guy of his kind would just.. y’know, let use already. Carefully you put your hands against his chest. “Do you treat all women like a gentleman in the sheets?”

It was supposed to be a joke question but he just pressed into your touch before working on pulling your pants off, you had already lost your shoes and socks coming in here. “You’re not a prostitute and I’m not paying you for a service. Obviously I’m not just gonna lose it like a savage.” His tone twindled a little as he finally got your pants off, staring at your legs and grinning again.

You’re nervous. Had you ever masturbated, sure, of course. Sex with a stranger? Not so much. But he didn’t seem all too worried as he moved his body back a bit, grabbing you by your hip and lifting you like this until your shoulders and arms were with your head the only point of contact with the mattress. Oh wow.

With a weak pant you stretch your legs a little until they rest on his shoulders, averting your eyes and making him snort a little. “You’re awfully bashful who almost went full commando in front of the entire bar.” He murmured. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, only your panties right now separating him from your spot.

“You talk too much for a guy about to eat me out.” You narrow your eyes at the wall, your words coming out a bit more forceful than you wanted to but your whole body jerked as suddenly, as if in reply, he pressed his nose into your crotch, rubbing his face a little against the fabric. “Fair.”

His teeth chomp down on your underwear and you blink at the feeling as he suddenly pulled back- “Hey- Don’t you fucking-“ Rrriiiiiip- There goes that piece of clothes and you looked in dismay at the torn pieces dropping onto the mattress, where the dude just fucking left them. “Are you serious? I’m not swimming in-“

Again, you’re interrupted. This time by the feeling of a mouth directly on your lower lips. With a surprised whimper your legs tense and you throw your head back in surprise. Now that he had started it seemed like the patience from earlier was gone to the wind. At least that’s what one could assume, seeing how he was already licking fat stripes up your sex.

This was hotter than it should be and it only ended with him raising the temperature as he gave a somewhat sloppy kiss to your, now slowly waking up, genitals. You could feel heat begin to pool, a familiar sense of wetness joining his tongue as he just pressed his tongue between your lips and seemed set on trying to fuck you with that muscle.

It was good, maybe because it had been a while you actively did something down there, maybe because the alcohol helped or maybe because you were just horny from the get go but it feel pleasant, waking your inner urged up with a gentle tingle that spread throughout your entire body and made your body shake with heady gasps.

And yet it was awfully not enough to really get you into the zone. Were you aroused? Most definitely. Were you capable of cumming from this? You don’t wanna try and imagine the timespan that would have to be invested for that. The tongue was good. But it was not enough, didn’t stretch you all that much if at all and barely reached deep enough to scratch the itch that had formed deep within you.

And then he bites you right on the inside of your tigh and you jerk upwards with a shocked noise that was torn between arousal and pain. “Fucking-“ He bites you again, closer to your female sex and you gasp, clenching your eyes shut. His gentle pace went sideways real fast as he began to almost violently dig his teeth into your skin right where you were the most sensitive.

Tugging on it, only to lick over the bruises and cuts afterwards and groaning lowly every time he did so. You yourself were left yelping and panting like a rabid dog, trying to keep your composure high and your volume to a minimum. “Nhhfg. God it’s been long. Spread your legs more.” But instead of waiting for you to do so he grabbed your thighs and just forced them apart to press another heated kiss onto your sex, licking over your clit with firm, long swipes of his tongue.

You’re going to space because all you’re seeing was stars. So much for not being able to come from oral but it felt like you were climbing this hill faster than anticipated. Close, very close- he dropped your body back down and wiped his mouth with his arm, breathing heavily as you made a confused noise. “I’m putting it in.”

At first you’re put off but it doesn’t last long as he just tugged his shorts down, revealing an aching, much bigger than anticipated, cock. His tip was already red with frustration- He must have been keeping it in for quite a while. It just made you a bit nervous seeing how ready to go he seemed.

Is there a way to fit that after months of going dry? He seemed to think so because he had already grabbed your thighs again to situate you two, the tip of his cock gently nudging your entrance. Oh god- You feel your body tense against your will. “First time?” Your gaze snapped to the man looming over you, a lazy smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. “Don’t worry.. we can take it slow.”

He muttered, right before beginning to press his hips forward and that at a steady pace. Your breath stops completely as you threw your head back and whined, needy and out of breath. That felt so much better than the impromptu toys you’ve been using or made yourself. For a moment neither of you moved, you just breathing and him rolling his hips every now and then, sending shivers up your spine as the need to get him to move grew.

And then the door opens and you tense completely, clenching up so badly that your partner cursed under his breath and slammed both his hands next to your head. You try to shrink and hide from whoever just entered the room and the huge man towering over you seemed ready to go full on primal on whoever was unlucky enough to cross his sight.

“What the fucking hell?! Never heard of kn- Nh?” He shifted, his cock pressing into a spot that made you bite the bottom of your lip as he looked over his shoulder. “Heat. I thought you were out for the night.” He grunted and his grip on your thighs relaxed, probably leaving bruises.

What the fuck was going on? Your arousal was stumped by the second stranger who was currently closing the door and walking in here. At first out of your view but then he did step into your line of gaze and god, what the hell. He looked like a zombie on steroids. He was as lean as Wire, a whole head shorter but his blue dreadlocks that ran along his back made him look oddly beautiful.

“The fuck? Send him out this instant or I’m leaving.” You snap at the man who was still buried deep inside you but he just gave you a somewhat pained and sheepish grin. “Just gimme a second-“ Hello? Are you having a fever dream? He’s literally balls deep inside you and about to start a chat with his buddy? “I was going to go to the bar but heard you through the door when I passed by.”

‘Heat’s voice was somewhat gravelly but much smoother than expected, semi deep but nothing too extreme. His eyes were resting on you as if you were some expensive alcohol he wanted to try out. It made you anxious.  “Can you stop staring?! Fuck! What’s with this-“ There’s a big hand on your face.

Asshole! “Getting bothered?” The dude balls deep in you jested but his buddy, instead of denying it, rolled his shoulders. “Depends..” His face was flushed and he looked definitely bothered. Flustered even. His gaze settled on you again. “I guess it’s been a while..”

You shove the other’s hand off your face finally, making him snort a little as he looked down. “Thought I’d need to invest in a whore but she’s awfully better. Tight and all shy like.” Heat scoffed from where he stood, walking over, slightly more leering now. “You’re making it sound good, Wire.”

Well, now you knew both their names. You just groan loudly and throw your head back. “I’m losing my mood!” You shriek agitated, only for Wire to pull out a little and thrust back into you. Right in front of his friend. It was horrible and oddly making you feel hotter- You’re not into exposing yourself or humiliation though so you wrap your legs around his hip to keep him still.

Wire made a noise like he was a dying animal and shivered above you as his cock was stuck seated deep inside of you, pretty sure he could break out of that hold but he never did. He just grunted and began to hump against you. Heat murred softly, lowering his head to get a good look at you. You cover yourself as much as you can, ready for him to say some douchebaggy thing.

“..Can I join..?”

Leave it to life to prove you wrong. His hand had come up to cover his mouth a little, a faint blush gracing his features as he gave you a steaming look and just waited on you. Embarrassingly you don’t say no right away. You actually consider it. Wire groaned above you, trying to thrust into you still but not freeing himself. “Whatever- Can we just get to it?!” He complained even though he’s the one who started chatting to his pal in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with you. You must be drunker than you assumed you had been- “Fine. No kissing on the mouth.” You grit out between clenched teeth, Wire above you giving a happy snicker at Heat perking up and averting his gaze. This was straight out of a bad porn clip.

Any moment now there’d be a pimp at the door waving cash at you three- Oh wow. Heat moved smoothly, easily enough slipping right behind you, forcing you to sit up until your upper body rested against him, his hands reaching around your middle to press a little onto your stomach, right under your bladder. Wire grunted. “You tryin’ to feel me?”

The man behind you just hummed. “As if I’d be able to feel that small-“ Wire snarled, his hips pulling back and then slamming right into you. “Ughnf-“ You bite your teeth together and your whole body was shoved into the burly man behind you. Oh fuck- You grab Heat by his forearms and cling to him for dear life.

The previous somewhat gentleness was gone as Wire pounded into you as if it was going out of style. Heat? The man had asked to join but he was seemingly content with slowly pushing your bra off, cupping your chest and pressing his thumbs over your nipples while panting into your neck. There was an obvious erection pressing into your back.

Especially everytime Wire slammed into you with the force of a speeding bullet train. Pleasure was building rapidly now, so rapidly you did not notice the man behind you take off his corset, carelessly throwing it on the ground with one arm before clinging to you again. The tall man between your legs gave a grim glare to Heat but it turned to a self satisfied smirk.

“Hold on..” He panted out, suddenly pulling out of you. Right before you managed to cum as well. God had to be shitting you. “Nhff- Fuck you!” Wire blocked a kick from your left leg. “Hold on- Fuck- This is gonna be good.” Right before he flipped you. Like a naked piece of meat, right onto your stomach with your face slamming right onto the zombie’s hard cock that was hidden behind his pants.

Said zombie made a low, surprised and startled moaning noise as his whole body trembled aggressively. He wasn’t even naked yet and you could feel his cock twitch against your cheek as he grabbed the back of your head with one hand, shaking and twitching as if resisting the urge to just press you right in there.

Wire helps. He reached over to put his hand over his partners and press you right into the others crotch. “W-Wire! For fucks s-sake-“ Heat panted, by now completely flushed and flustered. If not for Wire shoving his cock back into you, you’d probably find it cute. But Wire, as said, shoved his dick bad in so deep that you were sure he could poke you right in the womb if he stabbed you any harder down there.

Somehow you still found it cute. Heat was holding onto you, grinding his hips as if he was nothing but a dog that was about to piss on the carpet, knowing it’s not allowed but gonna do it anyway. “Heat- Heat, pull down your pants.” Wire panted from behind you, his breathing short and choppy, everytime you clenched he groaned. Heat didn’t seem to be paying much attention, too busy palming at your back, reaching over to grope your ass and knead the flesh as if you were some sort of stress ball. Oddly, this seemed to get him going just as hard.

His cock was practically dancing in there, right against your face. The attention of two men on you gave you a confidence boost you didn’t know was possible, reaching over to grab the band of his pants and yank it down. The man in front of you had a hitch in breath, arching his back a little. “Nhff.. Hff..”

It put you a bit off, seeing how he gave you this steamy look but not saying anything. Wire to your aid. “He’s into it. Just-“ His voice cuts off as Heat scooted a bit back, shaking his head with a breathy whimper. “I’m pent up- G-Gimme a second.” The man supported his weight backwards with his hands, having let go of you.

It made for a nice presentation. Your gaze fixated on the hard cock in front of you, twitching and.. very inviting. Even though he scooted back a bit you could see just how hard he was. If you thought Wire’s equipment seemed stressed earlier? Heat looked like a volcano about to explode.

And then there were the piercings.. A Jacobs Ladder staring right at you, five rows of silver gleaming in the light, a bit of precum having reached the first row. Wire behind you made a soft noise. “Let’s team up..” He panted. You’re confused about that but when he slammed into you the next time he reached over to grab his friends ankles and drag him close, right into your zone.

You shouldn’t. The blue haired man gave a keening noise as his bare cock ended up rubbing right against your skin, trying to jerk his legs back but Wire had them in a steel vice. The noises he made got only worse when you reached out and took his hard organ into your hands. “Oh! Oh fuck- Hff- I’m gonna-“

You were gonna too. Wire’s thrusts had slowed down a little, losing intensity but they were driving you up the wall fast enough. What’s the most logical thing to do? Tag team. You press his cock a bit closer to your face and lick a fat stripe up the other’s skin. Heat yelled out, throwing his head back but you didn’t leave him the chance, propping yourself up a little so you could take his head into your mouth.

Never in your life did you think that you’d be giving some stranger a blowjob but sucking on the other’s hard on while getting plowed from behind put you into a new world, full with new possibilities. Heat’s hands had clamped onto your shoulders, massaging the skin while Wire’s hands were clinging to your hips, bruising them.

“Ouh- Oh fuck- Fuck!” The blue haired man curled a little, his eyes screwing shut with bliss as you worked over his cock. Your hands massaging his shaft, your mouth on his tip and all this while Wire was still thrusting into you. You’re gonna- You do.

Your body cramped up when you came, clenching down on both men front and back. Wire cursed loudly, his pace stuttering and his grip getting even more brutal before with another slam of his hips he suddenly dragged out of you. At first you were confused but then the hot spurt of cum on your ass reminded you that the man hadn’t been wearing a condom.

Bless him.

Heat was, surprisingly, the one who lasted the longest but not much longer than Wire, just as you were popping your mouth off his cock, your hands squeezing it, did he cum. Your first blowjob you were not gonna guzzle some stranger’s fluids. Who knew if he had something.

Bit too late to think about it now but it’s not like you were living on the edge- You slump forward against the man in front of you, sprawling, exhausted. All of you were panting. Oh.. fuck.. This had been.. so much better than any sex you ever had in your life. Which wasn’t exactly much but-..

“Yeah..” Heat’s hand was on your hand, you don’t lift your gaze, closing your eyes to try and rest a little. “We..” Wire groaned a little, settling down next to you and putting his head onto Heat’s right leg. The man himself leaning against the wall. Suddenly Wire wrapped his arm around you to pull you close, Heat still having his hand on your head. “We are fucking keeping you..”

[doorsclosingslowly]

Your death is a number but I cannot count that high (11/16)

In which Death Watch enter the enemy ship, and Asajj gets her shot at freedom.

Zombie Savage AU | 2.5k | warning for body horror

For the first time in weeks, Asajj feels light. It’s almost offensive, how quickly she slipped from world-devouring grief and heartburn and eternal nightmares into mission planning and execution mode, but then again: she enjoys bounty hunting. Pursuit and infiltration are basically her comfort zone, and even the present company cannot spoil her thrill.

She finally has solid ground under her feet again. The swamp that broils and laps at her with every dream and with every wriggling fleshworm that fucking Savage Opress sends her way is receding, and soon enough, when she gets her chance, she’ll kill it off—kill him—for good.

Asajj’s sisters and Mother Talzin may have accidentally landed her in a malignant trap when they tried to help her fight Dooku, but Asajj will chew her way free.

That’s why she volunteered to be ground troop today. She needs to rescue herself. She needs to cut off this bond, cut off the mate, cut off the drowning boulder. She’d been prepared to argue and fight for the opportunity, since it’s not like anybody trusts her here, but it was surprisingly easy. Not even a doubtful look—no, the only response she’d received was appreciation for her fearlessness in the face of certain death. Well, maybe it is. Maul keeps insisting that Savage’s torture is a trap laid by Sidious, his past shadowy Sith Master, and that setting a foot on Entralla means getting fried and disappeared and tortured. He himself is going down still, obviously—by now it doesn’t even appear to be bravado or tending to his image before his following but genuine mushy affection for that dumb creature, and if Asajj wasn’t busy she might almost be curious—Maul is coming down with her, as are Kast and Saxon and three dozen other supercommandos. That’s what they’d settled on, once their advance droid surveillance footage yesterday had revealed their target to be a small spaceship surrounded by a hundred medium-sized tents.

Maul, Kast and Saxon at once, who as far as she’s observed are the three highest-ranking members of Death Watch, and on what all of them believe is a suicide mission—Asajj would call them brain-dead, but actually, she doesn’t care. Either Maul is every inch the scared wretch of a cast-off Sith plaything he appears and is making mountains out of skrant-hills, or she’ll, most likely, be dead too. Looks like that gamorrean sow Kast likes to suck face with will soon inherit the whole sorry rest of their terrorist crew.

Most of Death Watch, though, is inside three hundred small Kom’rk-class fighters or the two stolen Separatist dreadnaughts, standing by to intercept any fleeing ship with gravity wells or sheer violence. Well. That’s one of the reasons. Every ground Mando is in periodic radio contact with one of their motherships, and should they go silent when Sidious gets them… if the mission goes sour, dead man’s switch. Asajj doesn’t know about the exact logistics of how many have to miss check-in before the omnicidal aerial bombardment begins… but she’s starting to understand Maul’s paranoia regarding this ‘Sidious’ well enough to know they’re going to risk killing their Mand’alor sooner rather than later. It’s reassuring, almost. They’ll kill Sidious no matter what.

Well. And her, too.

But Asajj knew when she allowed that Mando to think she’d captured her that this wasn’t going to be easy. Up until know she’s always found a way to make it out alive. She’ll manage. And Sidious killed her sisters. Killed Talzin. Killed Dathomir.

Sidious will die, and so will Opress. Anything else is secondary.

She’s wearing a set of scavenged armor over her clothes and a jetpack and a gas mask, nothing more. Most of the ground team have massive tanks mounted on their back, too, full of some quick heavyweight airborne soporific Death Watch managed to procure on short notice.

(“If it’s taking this long to cook something up, we could just use poison,” Asajj had suggested, entirely not for selfless reasons. “We’re using the weedkiller tanks you Mandos use for farming, after all. We could just keep the weedkiller.”

“This is still a rescue mission,” Kast had replied severely. Unfortunately, despite being a fanatic terrorist and obeying Maul of all people and a habit of throwing tantrums about the horrible plight of Savage Opress, she wasn’t entirely braindead. “Damage is acceptable, but we won’t kill our brother.”

Maul had looked on, silent.)

Maul and Asajj are going to enter the ship first. That makes sense—both of them are assassins more than soldiers, they’re better than the Mandos at keeping quiet—and even if Maul will be a hindrance when they find Savage, she can use him as a distraction before that.

It feels weird, somehow, touching ground in front of the enemy’s ship. The unconscious guards on the ground are wearing clone trooper armor, which means that—yes, it means Death Watch got the drop on them and it means the soporific gas is effective, which is great, but Asajj didn’t expect this mission against Sidious to include a Grand Army of the Republic protection detail, and neither did Maul, though he appears far less perturbed by this information than Asajj is. Nothing before has linked Sidious to the Republic. She trusts the magicks she used to find this location, though. This is where the bondmate is being held.

Maul opens a control panel next to the ship’s door and plays around with a couple of screwdrivers, while Mando supercommandos direct their sedative gas into the ship’s pried-open air vents.

And… they’re in.

Too easy.

This was far too easy for a secret prison of the illusive Sith Lord, and Maul, apparently, thinks so too. He keeps glancing sideways at her while the supercommandos tie up the sedated soldiers outside and while they enter the ship’s galley, and he insists they shouldn’t split up.

“This location does not appear my Master’s—my former Master’s style,” he whispers in his clipped accent. “It’s neither desolate, nor are there plush red carpets. It’s not a torture dungeon.” Maul looks at Asajj, and his eyes gleam with suspicion. “If you have lied to me, you are dead. If this hurts my brother, you’ll wish you were.”

“This is the place. My sisters’ magicks are never wrong,” Asajj replies haughtily. It won’t do any good if both of them admit to their unease.

(Maul’s been vibrating faintly ever since Asajj broke into his brain to find Opress. It’s probably fear and anticipation, and most of all the superfluous awareness of him that she’s gained ever since exploiting both their bonds. Maybe he was always this high-strung.

“Someone’s attacking him,” he’d whispered to her just minutes before they reached Entralla, as if by joining their minds she had proven she cared. His eyes had been dark, agonized. In a movement that appeared entirely involuntary, he’d gripped at his neck as if looking for a pendant, and then he’d hugged himself, holding onto his torso and stomach as if his slippery entrails were ready to leak out.

Asajj had looked down and realized she was mirroring him.

When she slid her eyes half-shut, she could see the shadows of undulating metal cables.)

The ship, on the inside, just appears a standard Republic cruiser. It has a single long hallway that Asajj is pulled down by the worms in her gut, and Maul, frowning and broadcasting dread, follows.

They pass unconscious Republic clones at uneven intervals.

It’s so—ordinary. Asajj knows these ships. And there are no traps at all, just that pulsing connection drawing her forwards, shading and twisting, the memory of desolation and grief and that orange boy getting chocked (Kast’s eyes were so hard when she said, “He tried to give me his lightsaber, too, so I would have an easy time of killing him, if—when, he said, when he was used again to hurt his little brother,” that Asajj almost felt guilty) and everyone on Dathomir is dead and—

There.

She stops, and Maul comes to a halt behind her, ‘saber raised.

An open doorway, half-blocked by an armored redhead that seems vaguely familiar, and the beckoning hand of her sisters, and if Sidious doesn’t have the heart to provide a distraction for Maul then Asajj will just improvise.

“Back there, I think,” Asajj whispers, pointing at a random closed door to her left. “I can feel your brother in there.”

Maul’s eyes are wide. “I do not feel—are you sure?” he whispers, and he looks so young and hopeful bathed in the green glow he doesn’t understand and never had a right to wear that Asajj almost dares to believe her plan will work.

“I know these magicks,” Asajj drawls. “I don’t mind double-checking, but I thought you wanted him as alive as possible. He’s not doing well. Might get deep-fried at any moment, that’s not healthy for such a weak brain.”

It works. Maul bites back whatever kind of response he might have had, and he starts frantically working on slicing the door that was—her sisters are smiling upon Asajj—thankfully locked.

Asajj, meanwhile, tiptoes hurriedly forward and past the redhead—almost a decent glimpse of his head, why does she feel she knows him and—and inside the room she looks at a monster. The scene is arranged as if to mock her, a single bare cot in the middle of the room approximating a stone slab and the dimmed red electric lights a stand-in for the fire on the day she was tied to the boulder that tries to drown her. On the cot, as he was supine on the slab back then, lies unconscious Savage Opress.

Well. The used dog toy formerly known as Opress.

He’s always made her uncomfortable, even when they met. First, it was his silent bruised obsequiousness and the glances he’d shoot her after that arena fight, like he expected her to ravish him then and there just because she’d beaten him up. The sense that she’d stumbled into a world she didn’t understand drawn in silent rules and violence and sex—and Asajj has never liked that anxiety born of ignorance though she can and will tough it out and persevere, and only with the bond strangling her did she realize her stupid mistake—the sense that there was something hiding below her feet ready to devour her. He only got more obsequious and annoying after the ritual that tied Asajj to him, with his empty brainless eyes that somehow simultaneously said do whatever you want with me and I’ll kill you. She was happy to use him, if it got her traitorous ex-Master Dooku off her back, but she was at least as happy that the plan included Opress staying at Dooku’s side, not hers. Well, in the end, he was as useless as he was stupid and creepy, and Asajj had to fight Dooku on her own while Opress escaped his leash and used the power gifted to him by Talzin to harass innocent villagers and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He doesn’t have the body that Mother Talzin gave him anymore. Not that he ever deserved it.

Savage Opress, who is bound by ancient magicks to Asajj, looks like someone took his corpse and stuffed it full of a crashed spaceship debris in a desperately poor attempt at covering up an accident. The body Mother Talzin’s Dathomiri magicks gave him was stout, forceful, architected and executed with a keen eye and deep control, while whoever did this was a careless butcher. Asajj has seen carnage and pain, she’s fought and killed and maimed, and yet she has never seen anything as bestial as the body before her.

Savage Opress, who is making her share his torture through a telepathic bond, looks like a gutted carcass. This is what became of one of the three last survivors of Dathomir: worms writhe in and out of him, the things she’s been feeling like phantom maggots burrowing into her heart made real and she can see them feasting and seaming up his raw mottled shoulders and lap at the empty spots where someone tore out his hearts. He’s still conscious, though, just asleep. She can feel him feeling the worms. She can see him breathing, though he doesn’t need to, not without an intact torso. Not without hearts. She feels sick. So this is what has been calling out to her. What has been sliding into her mind, unstoppable and unwanted. This has violated her dreams.

Savage Opress, the bondmate Asajj came here to covertly murder, looks like death would be a mercy.

“Ventress, what are you playing at? The room was empty and Kenobi is here,” Maul hisses from somewhere behind her. “I told you. You’ll die for your betrayal—Savage…”

Asajj turns, expecting a fight, but Maul looks like the air was punched out of him, and he’s rooted to the doorway. The air around him tastes of abhorrence and dawning dread. He could have reached Savage before her, in her stupor—he could have jammed his ‘saber into her back—but now she’s jolted loose and ready to take her one chance at freedom.

To take mercy on Savage, for once in her life.

She drives her lightsaber into his right eye socket.

Maul’s scream behind her is vile, deeply inhuman and guttural and echoing over and over and over in the small room. It’s so loud her eye starts to hurt. His howl is the storm and the cave and the first drink in a lifetime. It’s green. It’s gentleness and sympathy he thought his Master had long driven out of the apprentice, but in teaching Savage he can’t help but refrain from using the techniques he once had endured himself. He doesn’t understand the reason—he is Sith and if he does not teach his apprentice to draw power from pain, he will have failed him. He doesn’t understand, but he feels something quake when he is called brother and when he notices he turned his back to Savage and never even expected to get hurt—he doesn’t understand, but somehow, he does. He loves Savage. Savage loves him. Maul was never meant for love, was made a weapon to be used and abused and discarded by a Master wielding power he’ll never attain, but somehow, Maul found this one person who loves him. Maul lost the person who loves him. Maul just lost him again. Maul won’t lose the person who loves him. He won’t. He can’t. He refuses. He loves—

And desperate love paints the room acid green. Greedy love tears the cot to tiny metal shreds. Unconditional love presses hot and painful into Asajj’s right eye, and she’s taking tiny measured steps toward Savage, in rhythmic unison with Maul and unstoppable no matter how hard she tries to take back her body.

Love, no matter what it takes, and both their green-bathed hands touch Savage.

All goes black.

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 12

Harry's buzzing with adrenaline, bouncing around the mat on his toes and swiftly jabbing a few punches into the pads on Liam's hands. He nods his approval, and Harry can tell that Liam's waiting for more. So he does, even if he's supposed to go easy today, Harry still spins around Liam, delivering three harsh punches to the pads as soon Liam turns to face him. He swipes his foot across the mat, catching his trainer's feet and making Liam trip back until he's sat on the floor. Harry smirks, starting to back away from him.

"Daddy!"

Harry's head snaps to the left, finding that Mark has returned to the gym from the upstairs cafe. He's standing by the ring, and Arlo's in his arms with what looks like yogurt smeared on his shirt. Harry beams, opening his mouth to call out a hello but then he's tumbling back himself, arm stinging when he lands on his funny bone.

Arlo squeals out laughs over Liam's chuckling, and Harry's smirk falls at Liam's smug look.

"Don't get distracted." Liam advises, climbing to his feet and throwing off the pads on his hands. He reaches down for Harry, gripping his glove in his hand.

"S'bloody practice, didn't think you'd be treating this like a match." He grunts as Liam pulls his sweaty torso off the ring.

He chuckles, patting his shoulder roughly. "Just bringing you back into the swing of things."

Harry scoffs, using his teeth to unstrap his left glove and tucking it under his bicep. He wiggles it off, followed by the right glove, and tosses them over the ropes of the ring so they land by his bag with a smack. He slips under the ropes, popping back up next to Arlo and Mark. Arlo coos, reaching his hand out to Harry and wiggling his fingers. He takes him from Mark, not caring that he's a bit sweaty, and smoothes out his clothes.

"Got my child all messy."

"That's not my fault!" Mark immediately swears, eyes widening. "He eats like you, what was I supposed to do?"

Arlo makes a grumpy noise, glaring at Mark now that he's back with Harry, and Harry can't help but laugh. "Don't like Mark anymore?" He murmurs to Arlo through a chuckle.

"No," Arlo grumbles, turning his head away from Mark to look over Harry's shoulder. Mark's mouth falls open in offense, and Harry snickers.

"Is it 'cause he's old?"

"No,"

"He's smelly?" Harry tries, biting back a smile at the hurt look on Mark's face.

"No,"

"He's small?" Mark glares at him.

"No,"

"'cause ya missed me?"

"Yes," Arlo slurs, turning his face into Harry's neck and patting his face with his little hand.

"I missed you too bug." Harry admits, pressing a smiling kiss to Arlo's head. Seeing Arlo snuggle into Harry must make Mark forget about Arlo abandoning him, because he's looking at them with a little but fond smile on his lips.

"He's turning into quite the talker." Liam pipes up, tossing a towel at Harry so he can wipe his face off. Harry catches it with one hand, drying off his sweaty skin, and making Arlo grumble when he has to move his head for just a moment.

"Sometimes he just chats absolute nonsense. Sittin' at the dinner table the other night and he was eating some mashed carrots, bunch of weird noises commin' out of him," Harry can't help but smile at the memory, "and he was just looking at the missus and me like we should know what he's saying."

Liam and Mark both chuckle, Arlo going shy as he realizes Harry was talking about him, and pressing further into his chest. "Does that mean we're ready to go home?" Harry laughs, rubbing his fingers into Arlo's back. "Ready to see Mumma?"

"Mumma." Arlo agrees, and Harry decides it's time to get going. Mark bids him goodbye, needing to return to the front desk, and Liam moves around the gym to wipe down the equipment, so Harry crouches down, placing Arlo between his thighs with a groan. He's definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

"Hang on for me baby," Harry requests, helping Arlo hang onto his legs and lean on him for balance while he reaches over to shove his gloves and water into his gym bag. His calves burn from crouching and Arlo pressing down on him, so he quickly pulls on his hoodie and helps Arlo into his coat, throwing his bag over his shoulder and Arlo's baby bag on the other. He lifts Arlo in one arm, bringing him back up with him and pulling his hood over his head.

"Nice and warm?" He asks, only receiving a spit bubble in response. He laughs, digging his keys out of his pocket and heading towards the door.

"Gonna miss some days next week but I'll text ya a schedule, yeah?" He calls to Liam, leaning his hip on the door, but not enough to push it open yet.

"A couple days?" Liam huffs from across the room, eyeing Harry skeptically. "You fight in three weeks Harry-"

"I know and I'll be ready," he promises,"but I've got family stuff to take care of. You know that comes first."

Liam's skeptical, looking Harry up and down as if assessing his readiness right on the spot, but he knows and trusts Harry. He wouldn't miss training unless it was absolutely necessary. "Take care of yourself yeah? Lots of water, vegetables."

Harry grins, grateful. "Of course," he nods, and then he's out the door, him and Arlo ready to brace the cold outside.

~

Harry's got a fire crackling in the living room, one of the Avenger movies playing on the television, and Arlo running rampant in his walker with Theo chasing after him, yipping and yapping when Arlo laughs after a particularly fast roll. He's got no idea what's gotten Arlo so worked up, maybe the yogurt he had this morning that's still staining the shirt Harry threw somewhere on the stairs when they got home before he had grabbed a clean one out of the laundry basket on the couch.

He hears the front door open as he's laying another corn tortilla stuffed with cheese and tomato slices into the pan, and a sizzle of grease pops up and stings his bicep. The yelp that leaves his lips is covered by Theo's high pitched barking, and the little dog slips across the tiles until he reaches the living room. Arlo grunts as he pushes himself out of the kitchen and into the living room as well, calling out a happy "mumma!"

"Hiya bub!" Y/n greets, followed by more hellos from Gemma and Anne. Harry here's the unmistakable hums of them warming up by the fire, and Arlo's little wheels rolling and bare feet slapping the floor as he heads back towards the kitchen. Harry lowers the burner, flipping the quesadilla over to cook the other side.

“Daddy!’

“Ya came back?” Harry gasps, reaching down to stop the walker before Arlo can run over his sock clad toes. “Thank goodness, I missed ya so much!”

His words pull a giggle from Arlo, chubby hand smacking the rattle and Theo tries to rise to his hinds, slipping as he whines. He loves to chew on toys and Arlo’s happily tossed him a few of the rattles he owns so it’s no surprise that he wants that one too.

Arlo babbles something, pushing off the floor and away from Harry. He’s heading back towards the kitchen, puppy at his heels when y/n comes in, screaming dramatically when Arlo almost runs her over. Harry and Arlo both giggle, the sound so similar he pauses for a moment, looking at his wife with big eyes to make sure he heard that right. She laughs at him, reaching down to pick Arlo up. 

“Who gave you a license, huh?” She teases, rubbing Arlo’s cheek. Harry turns to remove the now cooked quesadilla, but not before catching Arlo's little wince that's undoubtedly a result of his mother's cold fingers. Harry turns off the stove, pushing the pan to the back burner so it doesn't accidentally burn anyone, and lays the food down on the plate with the others. "Drive like your daddy."

"Hey!" Harry exclaims, wiping his hands off on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder. "I'm a very good driver!"

Y/n gives Arlo a look that says 'yeah right' and then smiles at Harry. "Of course you are baby." She says sweetly, patting the side of his face the way Arlo does and pecking his lips. He peeks over her shoulder, not seeing Anne or Gemma. She must read his questioning gaze because she says, "In the room changing. They forgot their water proof coats and the snow got to them."

Harry nods, leaning down again to capture her mouth in another kiss. She hums, tickling his lips and tangles her cold fingers in his hair. He starts to smile when a little hand presses against his chest, Arlo groaning as he tries with all his might to push Harry.

"No," he whines, smacking Harry's chest when he doesn't budge.

"What'sa matter with you?" Harry scoffs, brows pinching together. "Have ya had enough of me?" Y/n giggles as Harry steps back, frowning when Arlo smiles and snuggles into her. "Tired of daddy? Not nice, I helped make you, thank you very much."

Arlo ignores him, and at Harry's feet Theo whines for attention. "You and me both bud." Harry groans, leaning down to pick up the dog. His back and shoulders ache at the movement. He returns to his normal height, leaning against the island while his fingers scratch behind Theo's ears.

"How was it then?"

Y/n hums, and Arlo visible trembles as the sound no doubt tickles through his little body. "It's nice. Good amount of room for the both of them, and a little area in case Arlo feels like visiting. Not too far away either, s'right by that shoe store I got my wedding heels at."

Harry nods, mentally mapping the destination out in his head. She's right. Gemma and Anne's new place is only about a ten minute drive, and he knows there's a nice little park around there. "They excited to move in?"

"I think so. Probably glad to have their own space you know? And establish a home away from where everything went bad."

Harry nods. He gets it, understands why they would want a place they can begin to call home that doesn't have any affiliation with Des or Jack. But he can't really understand them wanting to leave his hometown. They loved it there, Anne loved it there.

"Are you ready to go back?" Y/n asks gently, eyes searching his for an answer. His stomach twists at the reminder, but he nods. It'll be good for him to go back. He needs to say goodbye to Des for good. He needs to say goodbye to the house he grew up in and the bad memories that lie there. He thinks his attacks might stop if he does, if he gets that closure he needs. And we wants her to see the place that shaped him into the man he is and why he's a little messy at the edges. Maybe she'll understand more too.

"I really am."

~

Two hours south where the snow is just rain and slush, and the sky is cloudless and blue, Harry finds his hometown. It looks the same. So overwhelming similar to the way it was when he left that it knocks the air out of him as he drives through the streets, passing his old school and the street his new life had started on. It's a fairly warm day and people walk the sidewalks. Harry tries to remember if he recognizes any of them but he can't. He's outgrown this place.

Anne and Gemma were living in a tiny house that Harry knows used to belong to a florist named Gia, located right off the main street. The yard is shabby and brown, the white house looking even brighter next to it. He parks in the empty car park, shutting off the car while Gemma sighs. "This is her." She murmurs, smiling over the seat at Harry. She says nothing else before opening the door, her and Anne sliding out.

Arlo kicks his car seat. "Me!" He shouts, as if Harry and y/n could actually forget him in the car. They climb out, Harry unable to hide his confusion as Anne unlocks the front door. Harry unlatches Arlo's car seat from the base, tucking his blanket around him and lifting the car seat out. Y/n is grabbing their bags out of the back, tossing as many as she can over her shoulders, and waddling up to the house with him following.

It's a nice house, Harry will give them that. But he's not sure why they're living there. What happened to his childhood house? He doesn't get a chance to ask. Well he does, but he doesn't really want to ask because he's not sure he wants the answer. Something in his gut tells him that Jack owns it now and he quickly pushes the thought away.

There's only two bedrooms in the house but Harry had been warned before they left the city so him and y/n are fully prepared to take over the living room. It's only a few days, and they have a nice brand-new air mattress they'd been gifted for their wedding and haven't used. Anne and Gemma work on making dinner in the kitchen while Harry and y/n set up their mattress, close but not too close to the fireplace. Arlo lays sprawled out in the middle of the bed, rolling back and forth in the plushy comforter as they lay out pillows around him. He laughs when Harry gently sits on the mattress, making the little one bounce.

"Ya sleeping here tonight or in your carseat bug?" Harry asks, bringing Arlo to lay between his thighs, little feet pressing into his belly. He had planned on having Arlo sleep in carseat right next to the bed but by the way Arlo's snuggling into the bed and playing with the edge of Harry's shorts, he's sure Arlo will end up squished on the mattress too.

"I think daddy's taking the carseat so his babies can sleep real good huh?" Y/n teases, reaching over Harry's thigh to wiggle a finger at Arlo. He squeals, grabbing a hold of her finger.

"Don't think I fit in the carseat darling." Harry replies, smiling at the way Arlo and y/n are looking at each other. He falls back on the pillows, hand coming down to card through her hair when she lays her cheek on his thigh.

"Guess you get the floor then."

Harry snorts, closing his eyes and enjoying her soft hair and Arlo's tiny fingers brushing against his thighs. "Not if I don't move from here."

"Mph," she grumbles. "stubborn daddy, huh? Are you just as hard headed?"

"Daddy!"

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Kay."

Both y/n and Harry laugh, quiet little chuckles that are so loving it makes the room feel ten degrees warmer. Their laughs have Arlo laughing, kicking his feet out. Harry winces when one of Arlo's heels gets to close to his crotch. "Oi be nice to daddy!" He warns, squeezing one of Arlo's little toes through his sock. Arlo screams and laughs, and then his mouth is latching into the side of Harry's leg and he's digging one of his new baby teeth into the skin.

"Hey!" Harry scolds, but he's laughing because he's never seen Arlo in such a silly mood. He can't help but fall more in love with the little person Arlo's growing to be. Until y/n bursts the bubble.

"Yup, just as difficult as daddy."

~

Technically Harry came back to help Anne and Gemma pack, but he can only do so much when they're so bloody picky about what goes in what box. After two hours of grumbling and arguing over whether silverware goes with plates or towels, Harry had decided to take his loves to see the town. It was another warm day, so Arlo didn't need to bundled up in a thick coat but Harry did stuff a bit of cotton in his little ears to keep him from getting another ear infection. The town's small, so they didn't need to drive. Instead he took them walking down main street, pointing out the alley he met Nick in and y/n had given him such an overly-protective mother look he couldn't help but kiss her. Then they went to this little store that sells root beer imported from Australia, and because y/n is a sucker for root beer, Harry bought her two bottles. Their walk continued until they reached the church, and that's how Harry found himself at the place he'd been avoiding for two long.

"Is he in there?" Y/n asks, taking in the way Harry's nervously eyeing the cemetery behind the church. Harry nodded, throat tight as he attempts to swallow the lump in it. Arlo shifts in his arms, mitten covered hands gripping the collar of his hoodie, and stares at the side of Harry's face. He's picked up on the shift in the air, realizing that Harry is no longer chuckling at stupid memories from his childhood as he recalls them to y/n.

He meets Arlo's eyes, managing a smile. "M'okay bug," he murmurs, feeling like he's directing the words more at himself than at Arlo. He tugs on Harry's collar as if saying okay, and then Harry's taking the first steps towards his father for the first time in years. Y/n follows him, strong by his side. It almost feels like she's the one in charge despite him leading the way. She always gets like that when he's nervous; strong and silent, like a mote around a castle.

The grass feels thick and spongy under his shoes as he crosses gave after grave. It's weird walking through here and not feeling small. Harry's always remembered the tombstones towering over him, but maybe that was just the thought of death hovering.

It doesn't take long to find the familiar stone, Harry immediately pausing in front of it. His breath catches in his throat, eyes skimming the words he'll never forget. Here lies Desmond Styles. Beloved son, husband, and father.

"This is my dad," Harry croaks, tongue like sandpaper. The wind whistles around them, chilling his fingers. "dad this is my family. Well, the family you'd be proud of."

He pauses, as if waiting for a reply he'll never get. "Hello Mr. Styles. I'm y/n, and I'd like to thank you so much for the man you left behind for me." Harry turns to face her, eyes stinging as he finds her already looking at him. She steps closer, hands wrapping around his bicep. "No matter how many times he says he's nothing compared to you, he's the best father and husband anyone could ask for."

Y/n gives him a sweet smile, and Harry sniffles back a sob. He's messed up so much in his life and yet here she stands, speaking of him as if he's nothing short of heavenly. Arlo calls his name softly, hands cupping Harry's face when he turns back to him. Harry lifts him up so he doesn't have to give himself a double chin to meet his son's gaze. Before he can answer, Arlo is leaning forward and touching his lips to Harry's nose, drool smearing on his skin. He doesn't care, because it's so sweet and tender all he can do is laugh and cry, squeezing Arlo tighter.

"Kay daddy." Arlo tells him in the same tone Harry had before they'd entered the cemetery. Harry wipes off his nose and eyes with his hand, taking a deep breath.

"M'sorry it took me awhile to come back. I had really fucked things up, didn't really take care of mum and Gemma like I should've, a-and I couldn't come back here with things still wrong," he clears the quiver in his voice away. "but ma girl here helped me, a lot, and we've got a nice home and stuff in the city-ya always liked the city-and m'taking mum and Gem with me.

"I hope you don't think we're forgetting you. We're not, but I don't think any of us can stay here. Hasn't been the same since you left, and well my babies have a chance at having their nan and auntie in their lives. I can't take family away from them so. Umm just wanted you to know that we're okay now, and m'gonna do better."

Y/n presses a lingering kiss to his cheek, wiping at the tear streaks on them. They don't say anymore, they don't need to. And even though he can't answer, Harry has a feeling Des is telling him he knows. Harry's chest feels the lightest it's been in years, and he knows he's leaving a part of his heart there for his father.

~

If Gemma and Anne noticed his glossy eyes or exhausted smile, they said nothing, and Harry was grateful. They got through dinner easily, Harry sharing chicken noodle soup from the place down the street with Arlo, and Gemma and Anne telling them they've got almost everything packed. Harry offers to help again, but they shoot him down because he "doesn't know they're system."

Eventually they make it to their beds, and like the night before Arlo squishes onto the mattress with them. Y/n is running her fingers through his dark hair, humming to him while Harry rubs his thumb over his bare tummy.

For awhile the only sound in the room is Arlo sucking on his pacifier and their soft breaths. They wait until the pacifier has drooped in his lips, and his fingers are no longer squeezing Bunny as tightly, before talking.

"Thank you for taking me to meet your dad."

Harry chuckles, she didn't really meet him, not at all. She met the grave of him, the memories Harry gave away with his words. Still, he murmurs back, "Of course, darling. Thanks for taking care of me."

"Of course," she smiles but it's broken by a yawn a second after. He can't help but think about how Arlo yawns just like her.

"It made me feel better being back there. I mean it hurt, but the kinda hurt you get when you're fixing a bone that didn't heal right."

Y/n hums in understanding, and Harry watches her eyes flutter sleepily. He feels his own exhaustion seeping in, so he gently leans over Arlo to give her a chaste kiss. "Goodnight darling."

She smiles again, eyes already glued shut. "Goodnight baby."

~

The moving truck wasn't set to arrive until the next day, so Anne and Gemma shooed Harry and y/n out of the house to spend another day in the town. Harry didn't know when or if he'd come back again so he happily utilized the time. Their morning was spent in a restaurant that Harry and his old friends used to visit when he was just starting high school, and much to his surprise, everything was the same. Including the two men sitting in the booth they used to sit at before school.

Zayn and Thomas are recognizable, but Harry can't deny that they look different. Zayn's brown hair is now dipped in a soft pink, and he's littered with more tattoos than even Harry. Harry can't see his face, but he assumes it's the same sharp face he used to know. As for Thomas, he's completely shaved down the shoulder length hair he used to have, and the acne that he used to whine about has cleared up, and a quick glance reveals he's lost his braces. Harry doesn't get to notice much else before y/n is nudging her foot into his shin.

"Wha'?" He asks innocently, quickly catching the salt shaker Arlo's been trying to push off the table for five minutes.

"Mine!" Arlo grunts angrily when Harry moves it to the opposite side of the table.

"That is not yours." Harry laughs. "Stop trying to make messes, s'not nice."

Arlo grunts, slumping down in the high chair, and kicking his feet back and forth. Harry chuckles, returning to his fried eggs when he realizes y/n is still eyeing him suspiciously. He raises an eyebrow, mouth full.

"Did you know them?"

He hesitates, glancing across the room to see them splitting the bill. He shrugs, "we were friends. Kinda stopped after ma dad died, and then I left."

"Do you think they recognize you?" She murmured curiously, popping a juicy cube of watermelon into her mouth. Harry shrugs again. "Maybe, don't know. S'been to long."

She hums, eyes running over his face like she's trying to decide if she'd recognize him. Harry offers a smile, tilting his head to the side, and she laughs.

"I don't think they would," she finally says. "saw some of the photo albums yesterday when you were in the shower. You look really different."

"Good or bad?" He asks, grabbing the fork Arlo's trying to pull to the edge of the table with his foot. He moves it, and Arlo grumbles again. "Ba' daddy."

"M'not being bad. You're being bad." Harry tells him, giving his pout an unimpressed look.

"Definitely good," y/n tells him, enunciating the word good towards Arlo. "I mean, you were always cute and you're like smile and eyes are the same of course, but it's like everything else has changed."

Harry smirks at the compliment. "Like what?"

"You're huge now," she admits bashfully. "like you we're kinda scrawny before and now you practically bust out of every shirt you've had for about two years."

Harry laughs, cheeks blooming with heat. "Throwing punches everyday really helps with that."

Y/n rolls her eyes at his teasing tone, knowing he's trying to flustered for her for complimenting him. "Haha I think my husband's attractive, that's so funny."

Harry snorts, nudging her foot under the table, and taking the last bite of his eggs. Y/n is still munching on her fresh fruit, and Arlo has made a thorough mess of his oatmeal, so Harry digs baby wipes out of the diaper bag that's next to him, and leans forward to start cleaning off Arlo's sticky hands and face. He whines and squirms as Harry wipes at his cheeks.

"I know they're cold bug, m'sorry, but the more you move, the longer it takes." Arlo's gone red in the face but he's not crying, just glaring at Harry as he tosses the wipes with his used napkin and unclips his dirty bib.

"Seems like he goes through about ten of those a day." Y/n comments, referring to the dirty bib. Harry thinks of the stack of bibs they had to pack and how many they wash a week.

"Gettin' so messy," Harry coos, lifting Arlo out of the high chair and onto his lap. He slumps back against Harry, kicking his sock clad feet up on the table, and babbling something that Harry knows is him asking for a drink. He grabs his glass of water, balancing it on Arlo's lap and holding the straw for him. Arlo's little hands latch around it, happily sipping some of the cold drink.

"He's just taking after his daddy." Y/n teases.

"Me? You should've seen Gem when we're growing up! She was always covered in something."

Arlo's finished with the water, so Harry places it back on the table, using his sleeve to wipe Arlo's mouth for him. "I'm sure." Y/n agrees, obviously just to appease him, and he's on the verge of complaining when he's interrupted by the men he was hoping to dodge.

"Excuse me," says Zayn, and his voice is just as deep and slurring as it's always been. "Harry? Styles, yeah?"

Y/n kicks his shin again and he can picture her amused smirk. She knew he was trying to avoid running into anyone he may now, and now his curiosity is biting him in the ass. "Zayn?" Harry asks, pretending he didn't know he was sitting across the room this whole time.

Zayn's face splits into a beaming smile, and he nods. "Man it's crazy to see you here!" He says in disbelief, running his fingers over the hair dusting his jawline. He then sticks that same out and Harry shakes it, glad he can use Arlo as an excuse to not stand up.

"Would say the same to you but this is kinda the spot still, huh?"

Zayn chuckles. "Kinda. You just missed Thomas! Went out the side door, ha."

"Like usual," Harry quips, remembering that Thomas always used the side door by the kitchen for some reason. He never told them why.

"Yeah, you remember that?"

"Of course," Harry chuckles, and then y/n is clearing her throat. Harry faintly blushes, realizing he hasn't introduced her, not that he particularly wanted to. He wishes he could keep her separate from his past.

"Y/n," she smiles politely at Zayn, and they shake hands. "would you like to sit down?" She motions to the spot next to her.

"That would be great, thanks!" Zayn breathes, taking the spot next to her. He looks at Harry, eyes twinkling like he's remembering all the hell they used to take part in together. Arlo squirms in Harry's lap until he's turned around, and then he claws at Harry's shirt until he's standing.

"Who's this little one?" Zayn coos, mesmerized as Arlo tries to sling himself over Harry's shoulder. Harry grabs his ankles, keeping him pinned to his thighs.

"This is my son, Arlo." Harry pats Arlo's leg. "Ya gonna say hi to Zayn?" He stops squirming, and looks over his shoulder at Zayn.

"Hello Arlo." Zayn greets, and blood rushes to Arlo's cheeks as he whips back around and hides in Harry's neck.

"Sorry, he's shy sometimes." Y/n apologizes, shrugging at Zayn.

"S'ok," he laughs, and their waitress comes over to clear away their plates. Harry thanks her, trying to ignore the way Arlo is stepping into his hip. When she leaves, Zayn's looking at Harry like he can't believe his eyes and it makes his stomach jump.

"Wha'?"

Zayn gives him that disbelieving head shake again. "It's just insane. I mean, you disappear for years and then you're just back and you've got a wife and a baby. You always said you didn't want kids."

Y/n cocks her head, confused, but Harry's too busy feeling like he's on trial to explain to her. "Temporarily, temporarily back. I leave on Tuesday." He chooses to not respond to the baby comment. Zayn doesn't need to know the way his head works now.

"Well where are ya living then?" He asks, remaining upbeat despite Harry's shift in attitude. He knows he's coming off as threatening, but he doesn't care.

"The city, been there since I left."

Zayn purses his lips and nods, and Harry thinks Zayn's recalling all the times Harry said he wouldn't move to the city. It makes him scowl.

"Where are you working?"

Harry's ready to reply with the same words he'd just said but y/n cuts him off. "Harry's a bit modest about it," she laughs breezily, pulling Zayn's attention to her. "so we'll just say he's a professional athlete."

Zayn gasps, and y/n tells him something else but Harry's not listening because he's setting Arlo back into his lap, fiddling with his shirt and socks to pretend like he has something to do other than talk to Zayn.

Harry's not sure what else is said, and frankly he doesn't mind. He didn't come back here to be grilled about what happened and why he left and why he's back. Eventually Zayn clears his throat, telling y/n it was nice to meet her and that he "really should be going." Harry gives him a hand shake too, telling him it was good seeing him just to be polite.

"Yeah same to you. Let your mum and Gemma know I say hi, and hope they're well." Zayn says sympathetically. "They haven't been very social since the accident at the house, but tell 'em we still think of 'em, yeah?"

Harry nods dumbly, ears ringing. Accident at the house? What happened at the house. "Harry?" Y/n says cautiously, her voice muffled in his ears.

"We need to go y/n."

~

He's panting by the time he reaches the street his old home is on, sweating from the fast-paced jog he did all the way here from the restaurant. He can hear y/n behind him, pushing Arlo's stroller and mumbling something about him being "crazy daddy" right now. He doesn't respond like he usually would, too caught up in trying to find the house.

He's three houses away when he sees it. Well, what's left it. He stumbles, sprinting to the metal fence standing around the yard, and he chokes at the sight. As if the black ash laying on the ground shot up into his mouth, and down into his lungs, he coughs and wheezes, because the home he used to know is now just collapsed walls of black char and stones. It's gone, everything he knew here, is all gone.

[hollandroos]

Build Me Up (Buttercup)

My imagines ❀ My series 

Summary: Tom receives a knock at his door at half-past one am from his bruised and bloodied best friend. 

Prompts; “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?” (This was requested as a blurb but I got carried away)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of physical fights, blood and drinking 

                                 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tom hardly seemed to sleep as of late. He was always typing emails to someone, working on one project or another or chasing after one of his friends. He didn’t seem to mind – especially when it came to seeing to his friends. If they needed him, he was there.

All he needed was coffee and a nap the next day. 

But he didn’t expect the shrill ringing of his front door to flood the apartment at one twenty-six am. At first, he ignored it. Thinking it was a prank from neighbouring teens he shoves the nearest pillow over his head right after glancing at his phone only to see a few texts from Harrison and a game request from one of his brothers. 

But when it rings for the third time he hauls himself out from beneath the sheets, groaning as the cold autumn air hits his bare chest. A shiver runs down the brunette's spine – one that makes him want to climb back into bed but Tessa had already rolled onto his spot, taking place where he once lay. He trusts that she’d shield the warmth until he got back from – most likely – warning off angsty teens at half-past one am.

Tom had to get to ‘em before Mary Jane across the street did with her bat.

Sighing, he pads out to the front door nearly tripping over clothes that long-needed washing and dog toys that he swears Tess lay in the hallway. Tom was totally one to curse but cricky – something about stepping on a chew toy in the dark makes him have to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. This prevents him from yelling out a string of curses that’d make the neighbours hide their 6-year-old boy from Tom for the remainder of their lease. 

Right outside the door, facing the bitter seasonal air stands you. 

You slip your lip between your teeth right before tasting the crimson blood on your tongue. it’s gross - the taste reminds you of when you were in fourth grade and tripped and fell on your face. And when you had that dental operation in sixth. 

You release it, screwing your face up instantly in disgust. By now the blood had probably stained the area around your mouth and beneath your nose, the bruising had probably painted your torso shades of purple and blue. Surely you looked a right mess, without a doubt. And you were tired too – so tired that you could sleep on the patio with Toms glass garden gnomes and the hedgehogs that visited every now and then.

You were cold too, the tips of your fingers numb and toes painfully so in your party heels. The dress you were wearing hardly did anything. You didn’t even have a coat. 

Tom opens the door a crack, opening it fully when he sees you standing there but through that crack, one merely a few inches he doesn't see the extent of your injuries… or any of them. It’s not until the door is fully open that he feels his chest ache and questions begin to plague his mind.

“Holy shit– what…” Tom eyes you up and down, mouth falling open in shock and his knuckles tighten around the front door. Surely it’d splinter, that's how hard he was gripping it. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, wincing when the pain hits. “No.”

In any other situation you would’ve pointed out that he was damn near naked and if it wasn’t so dark out then little Mary Jane next door, the elderly who was always out doing her lawn would’ve been scarred. But in any other situation, you wouldn’t be standing on his doorstep drunk and pained. 

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?” Tom says it a little more aggressively then he means too, with an almost hoarse tone. But he feels all traces of still being tired – whatever was left, slowly float away. That exhaustion turns into and in fact– fuels his anger. 

You look broken, both physically and mentally and hardly able to even hold yourself up and with that realisation, he steps aside to let you hobble in. You hold yourself up with little energy, leaning against the wall to stop yourself from tumbling. Feeling as weak as you look, you want to ask for a glass of water or a blanket but all that comes out of your mouth is a string of words recalling the last hour. 

“I was at that bar down the street and I got in a fight with this girl who thought that I was flirting with her boyfriend but really I was just asking him if I could borrow his phone because I lost my own and I still might be a little drunk–”

“Did you drive here?” Tom interrupts, checking if you were still holding your car keys. He doesn’t see any - and he doubts that even drunk you’d do something that stupid. But still, he has to check. 

You shake your head, strands of hair sticking to your bloodied face. “No– no, of course not. I walked–”

“You walked?! Y/N, It’s like one am what the fuck?” Tom throws his arms over his head, raising his voice to the distaste of his poor neighbours. Tom hated the thought of you walking down the streets of London by yourself, drunk and cold. without a phone nor a companion. He would’ve walked you home in sweats and slippers if it meant you weren’t alone.

It leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. One that hadn’t seemed to leave since the very second he saw your broken form. It only escalated when you told him the story. Tom swears that if the feeling gets any worse he’ll quite literally throw up – hopefully on the patio and not the new, four hundred dollar rug in the middle of the living room. 

“Relax, I’m okay. Besides, I think after tonight I’ve learnt that I throw a pretty mean punch.” You try your best to smile, wincing as you pull on the cut on your lip. “If you think this is bad you should’ve seen her.”

It’s a lie. You’re in way worse shape then the other girl but don’t say that out loud. At least not tonight. Usually, Tom would’ve been able to see right through your lies – after many years of friendship that was compulsory but not tonight. Maybe it was the alcohol that allowed you to lie to him so easily. Maybe your best friend was just more concerned with the bruises that littered icy skin to notice the tale tail signs of you slipping in a little dishonest information. 

Tom rests a hand on your cheek, assessing the bruises. “Your eye is bruising pretty badly and your lip is split.”

“You should see my ribs.” You snort, words still a little bit slurred. 

With wide eyes and a heart that skips not one– but possibly Tom beats, your tired best friend lets out an exasperated gasp.“What!”

“Relax, it’s not that bad.”  

By morning, you’d regret the shots you took one after the other and dancing on tables like no one was watching (in reality… everyone was watching) and you’d probably regret causing your poor best friend enough stress to give him a heart attack. Silently, you’d regret trying to fight back with the drunk girl and you’d regret not taking up the bartenders offer of a couple of bags of ice and a free bottle of water to compensate. 

“Just a little… a little bit sore.” You tell Tom swallowing the blood that stains your teeth with a queasy expression. 

With that, you tug the underside of your dress up. It wasn’t anything Tom hadn’t seen before - not the injuries. You. Your body. Besides, it wasn’t hard to focus when bruises were blossoming on your torso. Appearing like daisies in spring.

“Fucking shit–”

You gasp at your friend's curses, blurting out a strong; “Language!”

“You need to go to the ER,” Tom tells you, wondering just how long you’d be able to stand on your feet for. The heels couldn’t be too comfortable.

You had long forgotten about the blisters that up until just recently, had been the causes of your wincing and whining. 

Pressing a firm finger to the boy's chest, you prepare your next statement. Keep in mind that it’s early in the am’s. The moon illuminates the city instead of the familiar glow of the sun and everyone else was curled up in their beds, shielded by layers of cotton blankets and pets that guard the doors – asleep themselves. All except Tessa. 

Yawning, you allow your eyes to flutter open and shut. Sleep sounded nice. It sounded marvellous. Sleeping next to Tom, entangled in a shirt of the boys and the familiar scent that had intertwined itself with his pillow sounded perfect.

“You need to let me sleep first.”

“Sleep after I’ve taken you to the ER.” Tom eyes you up and down, noticing the goosebumps that decorate your arms and the fact that your lips already looked a little discoloured – and not from the blood and bruises that paint your expression. “You can borrow some of my clothes so you don’t get cold. And maybe have a glass of water or two and a protein bar first.”

A pout replaces the purse that once adorned your features. “But sleep–”

“But you need to go the ER, I’m not letting you sleep when you may have a concussion and I’m most definitely not letting you go into work tomorrow.” Taking your hand carefully, Tom tangles your fingers together. It was a little thing the two of you did whenever one of you was nervous or hurt – a kind of ‘I’m here and I’m not leaving’ thing. 

Tom sighs, noticing your face fall from what looked like a combination of exhaustion and slight disappointment. He didn’t want to disappoint you – he wants you to be safe. Fully aware of the alcohol making you a little more receptive to your current overwhelming abundance of emotions, Tom shakes his head.

“Now buttercup, go sit on the couch and I’ll grab you and me some clothes and some food. We could be there for a while.”

Tell me what you thought! + My writing ♡

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[sansoftimeandspace]

Trouble’s Brewin Pt 4

Parts: 1 2  3  4

Fight RP on Discord between @sansoftimeandspace​​ and @chara-mels​​

Plot: Cosmic was sleeping in a chair in the cafe when a Chara went inside, with malevolent intent. Things heat up after they leave the cafe.

Setting: Outside the cafe, and in an abandoned building.

Trigger Warnings: Language, Knives being held against head and neck, both muses close to death, body horror/ gore(kinda but not quite).

"heh... the best-laid plans of monsters and men often go awry..." He laughed weakly. "I'm surprised with all the technology you all have...that you got it wrong..."

"Cool...heh... never really thought of myself that way..." His eyelids felt heavy. He was struggling  just to keep awake. And then he felt her hold the side of his face. His eyes opened wider in surprise, and he tried to focus in on her blurry face. He heard her apologize to him, pleading for him not to die.

Because...because she wouldn't be able to toy with him any longer. Or at least that's what it sounded like.

"Heh...sorry kiddo... I rigate to tell you...but...i can't stay... for... I'm about to  pasta  away.. heh..." He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. 

He was so tired...surely a little nap...wouldn't hurt...

Chara wanted to defend her lack of information, but she had no excuse. Something as simple as that shouldn't have been missing from her, and now Cosmic was dying in front of her for no reason. Sure, she could just let him, but her intention wasn't to rid of him. She wanted him around, but at her will. Now, if he was truly gone... 

 “Did you just..." The pain in her face morphed into disgust, and she stared at him in disbelief, speechless. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! You are NOT going away like that!! NO!!”

 The idea of food was planted into her head, and in a hurry, she searched in her inventory for food. She had some, sure, but none of them worked for healing anything, more like clogging arteries. FUCK!! I swear if you die after that pun I'm going to toss your dust in dog sh— Wait, do you have any food? Listen to me, you lazy pile of bones!" Chara held him by the shoulders and shook him desperately.

He chuckled softly as she complained about the jokes. "what... can i say? if you're ....gonna go, go out ....laughing,.... right?"  He felt her grab him and  shake him.  His eyes opened. "food?...oh...yeah.... i do... in my pockets...should be some ...ketchup...and a sandwhich..." 

Without hesitation, she invades the intimacy of his pocket and just, yanks out all the food items she can manage to find. They lay on the ground, which is probably dirty, but that doesn't matter at this moment. She grunted and groaned in frustration to herself, as she gathered strength to pick up Cosmic by the shoulders, and rested him seated over her torso, so he wouldn't even dare to fall asleep. She took a packet of ketchup, and ripped it open with her teeth, before passing it to his mouth.

 "Okay, I don't know how the fuck skeletons eat, but you eat this right now”. She hadn't considered that maybe eating as well could do good for her too.

He felt her go  through his jacket pockets and yank out his food, and  put them to the ground. As he felt himself being hoisted up by the shoulders, the pain in his chest flared up to new levels. 

He let out a hiss of pain, and then went quiet as he felt the room around him grow tipsy and his mind started to grow staticy. But the smell of ketchup caught his attention, and brought him back to the here and now.  

He quickly took the packet and inahled the ketchup. As he felt some of his strength returning to him, his mind started to clear. He realized how she was holding him in a spoon position on her lap, and he tried to wiggle out of her grasp. 

"Don't move, stupid... Okay, maybe I shouldn't have moved you in the first place. But I'll hold you until you can sit straight yourself.”

 She takes the sandwich, and places it to his mouth as well. She held it for him, and closed her eyes for a moment. The pain, it was so bad it had numbed itself out, she couldn't feel that much anymore, but she remained seated, like a stone.

Irritated at her behavior, he gave a displeased grunt as an answer. He would've been more snappy toward her, but he was still feeling very light headed and too weak to actually fight back.

He weakly grabbed at her arms and tried to get them away from his chest. Being this close to someone who tried to kill him, was very uncomfortable.He stopped struggling when he heard she wasn't going to let him go until he could sit up on his own. He tried to do it, but the pain surged at him when did. So he slumped back against Chara, and let out a defeated sigh. 

"Fine." 

But once I can get up and moving on my own, I'm outta here,  he thought

When the burger was offered, he took it in his hands and took a bite from it and ate it. Within a matter of moments, it was gone. He glanced over at Chara and saw how injured she looked.He hesitated for a moment in thought. 

Should I really help her? She had tried to kill me and claim my soul as some kind of toy. Who knows what kind of crazy and disturbing things she thought about and has done. But at the same time here she was helping me, and was worried about me... in her own peculiar way.

Sighing, he looked over to the remaining food on the floor, and used levitation magic on a burger and had it float over to him. He took it and offered it to Chara.

 "Here... you look like you could use something to eat yourself."

Her eyes stuck their sight to a wall, and she huffed out in frustration, as a Cosmic ate. Resignation is all she could see from him, he probably hated having to be this close to him, but she would look after him with almost jealousy until she was sure he could walk away safely.

 Why not leave him to solve it? She had the slight doubt that he wouldn't have managed on his own, and it would be pretty bad to find out he hadn't made it days later. 

 Her eyelids fell close, and she cursed herself under her breath for not owning any healing magic, otherwise the process would have been way easier, and both could go back home faster. There was no pain, but no relief either; her body was numbed, and getting worse as her health dropped slowly. Since it didn't hurt, she wouldn't know she also needed help, badly. 

 A faint blue light made her open her eyes again, something very much necessary because she was starting to drift into slumber. 

“Hey... “ She was about to scold hi, for wasting his energy in magic, instead to focus on recovery, but her lips fell close at the offer. A shaky hand lifted to take the burger, it was somehow very heavy on her palm. 

 Immediately, a pleased smile took over her face, this skeleton was really something else. Kind, 'human', considerate, all of them huge flaws. 

“I believe I do, thank you... “ She took a bite of the meal, and swallowed with little to no chewing, she just wanted it inside her to start healing as soon as possible. The burger was soon disappeared, and the burn lines of her skin spread and flattened, slowly returning to the healthy color of before.

He smiled faintly as she took the burger. "You're welcome."

Am I going to regret doing this? She tried to kill me... and take my soul... and for what...?  Just thinking about it made him feel very nervous. 

He started fidgeting around in Chara's grasp. He winced as pain flared up in his chest, but he did his best to ignore it. The thought of Chara having his soul in her grasp haunted his mind. He had to get out of there.

"I'm.... feeling much better..." he said, as he tried sitting up. He was hoping  that if he could handle that position, then he might be able to jump up and get out of there.It hurt so bad as he started to shake and sweat. "I need... to get going..."  He started to get up and leave, trying his best not to show that he was still in pain.

Chara took a deep breath, and watched him as he tried to stand. She could almost feel what pain he was under, and held back a smirk. It was a pretty sight, a trembling skeleton that walked drenched in his own sweat, playing tough as he was just barely escaping death. 

 "Yeah, you're looking great.” Her entertainment only lasted until she tried to stand as well, and she went silent, to avoid any complaint from coming out of her. "...Same place, same hour, next Friday?” She forced herself to sound painless, smiling widely to his back as he walked. She slowly gathered her magic again to teleport.

He tensed when he heard that. Did that mean that this whole ordeal wasn't over? He turned toward her, and did his best to keep a poker face. 

"What do you..mean? I thought we were done with this whole...thing since you can't have my soul.. not that I know why you want it so badly in the first place..."He waved his hand in the air, as if suggesting she dismiss all her plans. "You know... what... just forget about me, alright... not worth any extra special attention..."He sighed. "I'm gonna go... Hope to not see you around..."

"Why would it be over? Didn't we have fun?”  Chara managed to laugh, her breath only stopped in short moments as she still struggled to keep herself together. "You can't really think so lowly of yourself, that you don't even believe you deserve the attention of someone like me... Or, is that a praise? Whatever it is, you're not getting your wish, friend.” Chara laughed once more, just thinking of the many ways shed continue to mess with Cosmic after this. 

In a yellow spark, she was teleported, and disappeared from sight.

He bristled as he heard her say that this wasn't over .And a sweeping coldness past through him when he fully realized that Chara wasn't going to leave him alone. Before he could say anything further, she was gone.

He sighed with relief.He glanced down at his chest, and saw that his shirt was cut open and that there was  still a nasty scar on his chest. He grimaced.

"Looks...like I'll need to get that healed up..." He sighed. "Half way tempted to do it after a nap... though I probably shouldn't delay in getting it seen." He teleported away.

[fandom-smut-shots]

Blaine DeBeers - Exercise

Title Exercise

Pairing Blaine DeBeers x Reader

Fandom iZombie

Summary Blaine watches the reader do yoga.

Warning Smut.

Blaine DeBeers – Exercise

A/N: Idea I got at work and really wanted to write. The Silver Iris chose the character.

         A soft sigh fell from your lips as you stood your ground, legs spread and knees slightly bent, your torso turned to the side as your arms stretched out on either side of you. You felt rejuvenated as each muscle was stretched perfectly, releasing all of the tension you had built up from work.

       You leaned one side down, your fingertips grazing the top of your foot, your other arm pointing to the ceiling. You closed your eyes, feeling your side muscles stretch, warming everything up so you didn’t injure yourself.

       Your muscles relaxed as you stood back up, turning your body to the other side and reaching your arms to either side. The warrior pose was your favorite to start with, bending down into a triangle pose to warm up your sides. You stood back up to release it, standing front ways on your yoga mat. You positioned your feet to be shoulder-width apart, bending at the hips to place your palms on the mat before you. Downward dog was great for stretching your legs and back, and your eyes closed as you hummed contentedly.

       You were unaware of your one-man audience, ocean blue eyes following your every move. His gaze traveled from your (h/l) (h/c) locks that were currently pinned at the top of your head, down your long neck and toned torso. The tank top you wore was skin tight and left little to the imagination, accentuating your breasts and curves. He bit his lip as his eyes followed the curve of your lower back and ass, wandering down your lean legs, ever-so-sexy in skin-tight yoga pants. Your feet were bare to give you traction on your mat, toes curling in a similar manor to when you reached your climax in bed.

       You rose back to a standing position, stretching your arms over your head. Just as you reached for your water bottle, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a lean torso. A noise of surprise left you before you realized it was your boyfriend Blaine. He loved watching you do yoga.

       “Are you going to join me this time?” you inquired, taking a gulp of water as you leaned back and turned your head to look at him.

       He rocked his hips against your backside and you bit your lip to stifle a groan. “Not quite,” he purred in your ear, dipping his head to kiss the back of your neck.

       “Blaine,” you groaned. “I’m not done.”

       “And I’m here to help with that.”

       He had been trying to convince you to combine your favorite hobby with his – yoga and sex. It sounded thrilling and satisfying, but you had yet to give in. So far, you enjoyed teasing him with your yoga, following it up with sex on the table or a chair, somewhere besides the bedroom.

       He was persistent today.

       His hands wandered down your sides to your thighs, rubbing with just enough pressure to leave you wanting more. His lips assaulted your neck, kissing and biting, leaving marks all over your skin. You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of moaning. His hands rounded to your ass, squeezing as he bucked his hips against you.

       “You know you can’t resist me,” he growled in your ear, hands slipping under the fabric of your pants. You took a deep breath, knowing his next plan. When you were being stubborn, he would tease you just enough to leave you wanting more, never enough to give you any release.

       His right hand slid down the front of your panties, fingers slipping between your folds. You chewed your lower lip as he explored the region as though it were your first time together, taking his time to rub his fingers over your clit, testing your limits.

       “Mmm,” he murmured as his finger slid over your entrance. “Baby, you’re soaking. Are you sure you don’t want to just give in?”

       You rocked your hips into his hand before you could stop yourself. He chuckled, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you. He removed his hand, eliciting a whimper from your lips at the lack of contact. His hands slid under your tank top, pushing it up to your chest. Your arms rose, allowing him to pull the fabric all the way off. He moaned in realization that your tank top had a built in bra, meaning your breasts fell free once he pulled it off. He took one breast in each hand, squeezing and running his thumbs over your nipples. They hardened at the contact, and you arched your chest into his hands. You could feel heat tingling between your thighs. You tried crossing your legs to ignore the need building there, but Blaine noticed and pushed a leg between yours, keeping them separate.

       He kissed down your back as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, pulling them down your legs. That left you in your lacy panties which were riding up, revealing your ass perfectly. His hands squeezed your ass, one sliding under and between your legs, rubbing your clit through the lace. Your hips wiggled, rocking back against Blaine. Your wetness soaked your panties, dripping onto his fingers.

       Your knees buckled as he removed his hands, stripping himself. When he was completely naked, he gripped your hips, pulling you back so that you could feel his arousal against your ass. You moaned as his fingers looped into the lace of your panties, pulling them down your legs. You stepped out of them, standing stark naked before Blaine.

       His arousal rubbed against your soaked entrance. “You only get this if you bend over.”

       You groaned, knowing that he wanted you in downward dog. You bent at the hips, spreading your legs shoulder-width and placing your palms on the mat before you.

       Blaine stood behind you, his hands on your hips. He plunged forward, thrusting into you. You moaned in unison as he slid in easily, your wetness accommodating him. Your hands gripped the yoga mat as he began a fast and hard pace, slamming into you from behind. His hands remained on your hips for leverage, groaning as he rocked his hips against you. You spread your legs on the mat, allowing him to go deeper. Moans fell from your lips like prayer. You were unable to stifle them, the feeling of pleasure from Blaine pounding into you was too much to ignore.

       He knew you were close, so he reached one hand around to toy with your clit. You choked on his name as his fingers rubbed you perfectly. His thrusts came faster and harder as his fingers rubbed mercilessly. Within moments, you unraveled, your orgasm spilling all over his arousal, dripping down your inner thighs thanks to your position.

       “Blaine!”

       He gripped your hips with renewed force. His thrusts lost rhythm as he neared his own release, speed increasing with every movement.

       “(y/n)!” he moaned as his release hit him like a train. His hips slowed to a stop behind you, both of you panting heavily. He pulled out, letting your knees buckle as they had tried to earlier. You collapsed on the mat, and he fell down beside you.

       “I told you, you would like it,” he chuckled.

       You rolled your eyes. “From now on, you’re more than welcome to watch me do yoga.”

       He grinned at you. He leaned over to press a kiss to your lips before falling back, simply lying on the mat until you regained enough energy to go for a shower.

[anavoliselenu]

driven chapter 23

Well, at least the platonic edge is from his side because she sure wants more than that. I turn from looking out the wall of glass at the ocean and look at him. He holds his hand out to me, “C’mon, let me show you upstairs.”

We ascend the wider-than-normal freestanding staircase on stone steps, and I find myself impressed with the lived-in feeling of his stone fortress. I tell him I assumed it was going to be cold and uninviting but it’s the exact opposite. He tells me he opted for the stone exterior to limit the maintenance required from the continual wear of being exposed to the harsh beach conditions.

When we reach the top of the stairs, we come to an open room that is the patio portion I saw from the front of the house. “I think I found heaven,” I murmur as I take in the indoor/outdoor patio. Lights wrap around an overhead trellis covered in a growing vine, twinkling in the darkening sky. Four chaise lounges I could sink into and get lost in are artfully arranged around the space.

Justin laughs at me as he tugs my arm, “We can enjoy out there later,” he says wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Man with a one-track mind,” I tease as my words falter when he brings me into the doorway of his bedroom. “Wow,” I breathe.

“Now this is my favorite place in the house,” he says and I can see why. An oversized bed is situated in the room with the footboard facing the view of the ocean. The room is done in soft browns and blues and greens. A love seat is situated on an angled wall and a coffee table is in front of it where magazines and books are haphazardly thrown. A large dog bed sits in another corner beneath a fireplace with chewed toys and a rumpled, blue blanket. The focal point of the bedroom is similar to downstairs, a wall of glass consisting of opened windows and the breeze blowing in off the ocean.

“I can see why,” I tell him as I’m drawn to the windows and stand to watch the distant lights of boats at sea making their way home. I can see the silhouettes of surfers waiting to catch one last set before paddling in. “Your place really is magnificent.”

Justin takes me by surprise when I feel his arms slide around my waist and pull me into him, his front to my back, and nuzzles his nose into my neck. “Thank you,” he murmurs as I angle my head to the side to expose the span of skin where he lays a trail of feather-light kisses down to my shoulder and back up. My body shudders in reaction to his touch and a soft sigh escapes between my lips. His hand splays over my stomach and presses me against him, my pliant curves molding to his firm lines. His mouth is at my ear again, kissing that sensitive spot just underneath. “Can I tell you how much I enjoy having you here?” he whispers, licks of his breath tickling my ear.

I sigh into him, leaning my head back to rest on his shoulder. “Thank you for tonight, Justin.”

He chuckles. “I sure hope you’re not implying it’s over yet, because I’m just getting

started.” His hands run up and down the side of my torso, fingertips skimming the edges of my breasts. Tiny hints at what’s to come. I archagainst him at his touch, my body humming with desire, and my heart reveling in his tenderness.

I tilt my head up and he angles down so that even in our awkward positioning, he captures my mouth with his. His tongue delves past my lips and licks at mine. Teasing. Entwining. Tasting. Worshipping. I turn into him, needing more to feed my insatiable craving. He backs me up against the wall of glass, his forearms press against it framing my head while his body pushes into mine.

A strangled sigh escapes him as I nip at his lower lip and run a tongue down the line of his unshaven jaw. I reach his ear and tug on his ear lobe with my teeth. “No,” I breathe into his ear, “the night is most definitely not over, Ace.” I make my way down the line of his throat and back up to lay a kiss at the pulse in his throat. “It’s just beginning.”

“Selena,” he moans a sound of pure appreciation.

I feel empowered by his unbidden reaction to me. I want to show him how he makes me feel. Tell him with actions since I am unable to with words. I dip my tongue in the indent of his collarbone, his coarse hair tickling my lips, his scent enveloping me, and then trail a row of soft kisses back up to his other ear. “I want to taste you, Justin.”

I hear him suck in a breath at my request, and suddenly his hands are on the sides of my cheeks, cupping them. He pulls my face back from his, his thumbs rubbing over my lips, swollen from his. His eyes search mine, for what I don’t know, but the depth of emotion that I see in his is all I need to know. We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, trapped in our hazy state of desire. Our silent interlude lasts until he groans, “God, yes, Selena,” before crushing his mouth to mine. His kiss is a bombardment of what I see in his eyes: greed, passion, blazing need, and an unexpected urgency. I have no chance to offer anything for Justin just takes, and I submit willingly to his unspoken commands. I hand myself over to him, mind, body, heart and soul.

I ease back from the kiss, a salacious look in my eyes that stops Justin from pulling me back to him. Our chests heave with anticipation. I bite my lower lip as my mouth spreads into a wicked grin. My thoughts turn to how I want to run my tongue down his body and feel him shudder in response to my touch.

I reach out, surprised by the wanton woman in me he is bringing out of hiding. Max’s passive, shy girl who thought of having sex with the lights on as being adventurous is no more. Justin makes me need things I never knew I wanted. He makes me feel sexy. Desirable. Wanted.

I bunch the hem of Justin’s shirt up until my hands graze his abdomen. I run a fingernail across his stomach just above the waistline of his jeans, and I smirk as his lips part and eyes darken with utter need from just my touch alone.

I start to pull his shirt up and off of him. “Let me,” he rasps as he reaches up and grabs the back of the neck of his shirt and pulls it off in one fell swoop as only a man who has no worries of messing up hair or make-up can.

“Just how I like you,” I murmur, taking in his sculpted shoulders and lean torso all the way down to the trail of hair in the middle of the sexy V of muscle that disappears beneath his waistband.

“My body is yours to take advantage of,” he breathes with a sexy smirk hinting at the dirty things he wants me to do to him. He holds his hands out to his sides, offering himself up to me.

I reach out and cup his neck, bringing his face to mine. I press my lips to his and dart my tongue in his mouth, pulling back every time he tries to control the kiss. “I. Want. You.” I whisper.

I skim my fingers down the plains of his torso, nails scratching softly so that his body twitches in reaction. My mouth follows the same path but on a much more leisurely pace. Justin lets his head fall back and groans a soft sound of pure appreciation when I stop and lick the flat disks of his nipples. His hands trail down my arms, up and over my shoulders, and fiddle with the ties at the back of my neck. “Uh, uh, uh,” I chastise, intent on my own pace of seduction. I look up at him from beneath my eyelashes as I lace openmouthed kisses down the skin-gloved muscles of his abdomen. “My turn, Justin.”

I step back from him, never breaking eye contact, raise my hands to the back of my neck, and slowly untie my dress. “It’s a little hot in here, don’t you think, Ace?” I toy with him as I take in a fortifying breath and let the material slowly slide down the curves of my body. I see the fire leap into Justin’s eyes as he takes in what’s underneath. I’ve worn my Agent Provocateur strapless bra and panty set in a rich, dark purple lace that hides little but highlights my figure perfectly in an overtly sexy way for a modest girl like me.

“Sweet Jesus, woman! The sight of you is enough to drive a sane man crazy,” he drawls as his eyes drag their way back up and down my body again. He rubs his thumb over his other fingers as if they are itching to touch me. I step toward him again, my body hyperaware of everything around us and between us. I reach out and lay my palms on his chest, his body quivering in anticipation.

I slide them down and undo the top two buttons of his jeans relieving some of the tension in the stressed seam of denim. My hands slide around the inside of his jeans and boxer briefs and grasp the solid muscles of his very fine ass. I skim my fingers back up and over his lower back while I trace my tongue down the trickle of hair below his belly button. I look up at him as I sink to my knees and very slowly undo the last three buttons of his jeans.

He stares at me beneath eyelids heavy with desire, his lips parted, and need palpable. I lower his jeans and boxer briefs, his iron length springing free. I run my fingers down the dark smattering

of hair and grip the base of his shaft. I lean forward and Justin sucks in an audible breath as I circle my tongue lightly around the bell-shaped tip and then flutter it slowly down to the root and back up. My hand moves slowly up and down the veined length while my other hand comes up to cup his balls beneath, gently grazing them with my fingernails.

I look up at Justin and I’m swallowed up by the look in his eyes as he watches me. His jaw flexes in expectancy as my fingers tease him and when I take him very slowly into my mouth, he winces in pleasure before throwing his head back and hissing “Fuccckkk, Ryleeee!”

I tease him gently at first, only taking the tip of him into the warmth of my mouth, rubbing my tongue with pressure on the sensitive underside just beneath the rim of his crest. I twist my hand around his shaft, stimulating him with both friction and wet heat.

When I’ve tormented him enough and can feel the tension in his thighs from anticipation, I sheath my teeth with my lips and take him all the way in until I can feel him hit the back of my throat. The guttural groan that comes from Justin’s lips fills the room as the musky taste of his arousal and evidence of his desire for me churns an exquisite ache that invades the depths of my very core.

I bob my head down his length again, my throat convulsing when I reach maximum depth, and slowly press my tongue on the underside as I pull it back out. I feel Justin’s fingers tangle into my hair as the blissful need for release starts building within him. The harsh exhale of words and beseeching calls of my name, urge me on to move faster. Quicker. I take him deeper and stroke him harder. He suddenly swells some and I can taste a trace of his piquant flavor, both signs he’s close.

“Selena,” he grates out between clenched teeth, “I’m gonna come, baby. I want to be buried in you when I do.”

The cupping of his hands on my shoulders along with his words causes me to stop. With his length still hard in my mouth, I look up at him to see his face pulled tight with pleasure. A man on the razor thin edge of losing control. He convulses as I hollow my cheeks and pull tightly on him one last time.

My thoughts don’t have enough time to register Justin hauling me to my feet and crushing his mouth to mine with near violent desire. Spirals of sensation whirl through me as he urges my back up against the windowed wall. The anticipation of what’s to come causes the ache to intensify in my groin.

Splinters of my raw need ricochet through my body and straight to my core when the rasp of his calloused fingers find their way beneath my dampened panties. He parts me gently and finds my clit, waiting and throbbing for his attention. I grow dizzy wanting more as his fingers to work their magic stimulating my button of nerve endings. His mouth plunders mine, filling me with his addictive taste and claiming all of the responses his fingers are wheedling from me.

“I want you in me, Justin,” I pant out to him when I break from our kiss. These are all the words he needs because he is suddenly lifting me and pulling my legs around his hips. The delicate strap of fabric holding the two triangles of my lace panties together snaps as Justin rips them from me.

I’m no longer the one in control. The notion sends an unexpected thrill through me but the thought is short lived as Justin spans his hands across my sides and lifts me up, pressing me against the wall for leverage, and buries into me all the way to the hilt in simultaneous synchronization. I cry out an inarticulate sound, overcome by the feeling of fullness as he stills so that I can adjust to him.

“Christ, Selena,” he gasps brokenly, his face buried in my throat. The gentle draw of his mouth on my skin there causes me to dig my fingers into the solidity of his shoulders and slowly flex my hips into him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he pants as he rocks his hips out and then strokes back into my quivering softness.

His body slides against mine, his hands trapped between the glass and my hips, pressing me into him, and pushing himself as deeply as possible. I draw a shuttered breath through parted lips as my body softens and heats up at the same time. “Justin,” I mewl as I accept his voracious tempo that’s pushing me toward the precipice. Filling me until I can hold no more. Connecting us in every way possible. Blood pounds in my ears and sensation rockets through my body as we find each other’s rhythm.

“Hold on, Selena. Not yet!” He commands as he quickens his tempo and brings me closer to the brink. Our lungs pant in short, sharp breaths, hands grip sweat-slickened flesh, and mouths claim any part of the other we can taste.

I can feel my body quickening at the same time Justin stiffens to iron inside me. “Justin,” I warn, my body tensing around him.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he shouts at the same time I’m unable to deny myself another single second. My thighs turn to steel as I crash over the edge, lost in the oblivion of the explosion within me. The intense contraction of my channel grabs hold of Justin and drags him over with me. A litany of pleasure-induced words falls from his lips, his face buried in the curve of my shoulder as his body shudders with his release. We stay like this, connected as one and locked around each other momentarily, until we slowly slide down the wall to the floor. We sit entwined, my face is nuzzled against his throat, and his arms encircle me.

And in this moment, I am completely and utterly his. Swallowed by him. Lost to him and the moment so much so that I am frightened by the power of my feelings.

We sit like this, tangled around each other in a spellbound state without speaking. The lazy tracing of fingers on cooling skin and the reverberation of our hearts against each other is the only communication we need. Our labored breaths finally evening out as the sky falls completely dark and leaving us bathed in moonlight.

I’m afraid to speak. Afraid to ruin the moment between us seeing as the other two times we’ve been intimate, the after effects have not been so positive.

“You okay, Ace?” I ask finally, my foot slowly falling asleep and needing some movement for circulation. Justin grunts an inarticulate sound and I laugh at him, pleased that I reduced him to such incoherence. I try to pull away from him and lean my back against the glass behind me, but he just shifts with me so that his face is now in the crook of my neck. He moans a sigh of satisfied contentment that spears straight into my heart.

My eye catches my torn underwear on the floor and I snicker. “What is it with you and tearing my panties off, huh? I would have gladly stepped out of them for you.” I scratch my nails languorously over his back.

“Takes too long,” he snorts, the movement of his unshaven jaw tickling my hypersensitive skin.

“Those were one of my favorite pairs. Now I don’t have any to match this bra,” I pout fraudulently.

Justin pulls away from me, a bawdy smirk on his lips and humor in his eyes. “Tell me where they’re from and I’ll buy you a hundred sets so long as you stand before me on display like you did tonight.” Justin leans forward placing a languid kiss on my lips. “Better yet,” he says pulling back and tracing a finger along the line where my breast meets the lace of my bra. “Since that is such a mighty fine bra, maybe you should just wear that and nothing else under your clothes. Talk about sexy,” he grunts. “No one would even have to know.”

“You’d know,” I counter arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, I would,” he grins wickedly, “And I’d walk around hard all fucking day thinking about it.”

I laugh. A deep, soul-baring laugh because I am so overcome with emotions that I’m bubbling over.

“Shall we get off the floor?” He asks as he shifts and unfolds himself from me. He rises, reaching out for my hand, and helping me up to my feet. “The bathroom’s through there,” he points to the wide opening to the left of the bed, “if you want to get cleaned up.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, self conscious in my nudity all of the sudden despite what just transpired between us. I gather my dress, pressing it to my front and look for what’s left of my panties. “What—?” I ask when I can’t find them. I look up to see Justin watching me as he pulls his jeans up over his naked hips, the remnants of my underwear haphazardly stuffed in his front pocket. He stills when my eyes remain on his.

Leaving his fly unbuttoned, he walks to me and reaches out to tug my dress out of my hand. I try to pull it away but I realize his intentions a moment too late. “For God’s sake, Selena, there’s no need to be shy. After you just stood before me like that?” he shakes his head at me. “You’re hot as hell and having confidence about that is even sexier, sweetheart.” He senses my remaining unease and leans in to brush a kiss on my lips. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he smirks at me but holds my dress out.

I stare at him, naked except for my bra, trying not to fidget. His compliment washes over me and eases my insecurities a tad. I am plain old me and Justin frickin’ Donavan is in front of me. Telling me I am sexy. That he loves my curves. I feel like I need to pinch myself. Instead, I push down my lack of self-confidence and tell myself I can do this. A slow smile quirks at one corner of my mouth as I glance at my dress in his hand, before I very deliberately walk past him without taking it and walk confidently into the bathroom.

I can feel his smile rather than see it when I turn the corner into the oversized bathroom filled with granite and tumbled stone. I release the breath I was holding, proud of myself for having the courage. I glance up at my reflection in the mirror and am pleasantly surprised to see that my bag is sitting on the countertop. Grace must have brought it up.

“Feel free to grab one of my shirts off of the stacks in my closet,” Justin calls to me from the bedroom.

“Um–Okay. Thanks.”

“I’m going to run and get us a drink. Let Baxter out. I’ll be right back. Take your time.”

“Uh-huh,” I reply as I wander around the ridiculously large space. I walk into an open doorway to find a closet that would make Haddie the Clotheshorse cry. I peruse his vast selection of t-shirts and settle on a heather gray one. I press my nose into the fabric and I can smell the laundered scent that makes up at least one part of Justin’s scent that I love so much.

I clean myself up, freshen up my make-up some, pull on a pair of boy-short panties I had brought—because yes, even I knew this was a forgone conclusion—and slip Justin’s shirt over my head.

CHAPTER 24

With Justin still absent from the bedroom, I wander down the hallway and out the open door onto the second story terrace. I walk to the railing that overlooks the lower patio and the ocean beyond and lean against it, enjoying the nighttime breeze whispering over my face and the sight of the moonlight on the dancing waves.

I am so overwhelmed by the sequence of events that has brought me to stand where I am that I can’t even begin to process them. One minute I am lonely, afraid, and feeling too guilty to live again and a few weeks later I am here with a man who’s complicated and wonderful and so incredibly alive. I’ve gone from empty and aching and raw to happy and sated and feeling like I am having a slightly out-of-body experience.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier, I find you wearing one of my favorite shirts.” His words startle me from my thoughts, and I turn to find him beside me, holding a glass of wine out to me.

“Thank you,” I murmur taking a sip and reaching a hand out to rub Baxter’s head as he tries to squeeze between us again.

Justin edges a hip up on the railing and turns to face me as I look out at the water. “I like seeing

you here,” he admits, his voice soft with reflection as he tilts his head and watches me. “I like seeing you in my surroundings, in my shirt, with my dog … more than I ever could’ve imagined.” I transfer my gaze from the water to meet his, trying to read the emotions swimming beneath the surface. “That’s a first for me, Selena.” His confession is whisper soft, and I can barely make out the words above the noise of the surf.

I still when I really hear them, his silent admission speaking volumes to me. Holy shit! Does this mean that he means there is a possibility of more? That whatever we are is more than just one of his stupid arrangements? I can sense his unease that the vulnerability his words have caused him so I try to add some humor to relieve him.

“What? You don’t drag all of your wenches to this hideous lair of yours?”

He reaches out, a quiet smile on his lips that reflects in his eyes, and cups my neck, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “Just the one,” he replies. I smile back at him, adoring the tender side of Justin as much as I love the stubborn, feisty one. He lifts his beer bottle to his lips and takes a long pull on it. “I brought up some dessert,” he offers.

“Really? I thought that’s what we just had.” His smile spreads and eyes widen at the comment and a carefree laugh escapes his lips.

“C’mon,” he tugs on my arm and pulls me down to sink into one of the chaise lounges. Justin walks over to a console hidden in the wall and within seconds, the voice of Ne-Yo sings softly from the speakers around us. I hear Baxter groan in satisfaction as he plops his large body down in the open doorway of the hallway.

“So,” he says as he scoots a table next to me, “I have two options for you. Mint chocolate chip ice cream or chocolate kisses.”

“You remembered!” I gasp at him, surprised that such a little thing as him remembering my two admitted vices from his questions at the carnival would mean so much to me.

“I aim to please, sweetheart.” He smirks as he puts a hand on my back urging me to sit up, and then slides himself behind me.

I lean back into his bare chest, fitting myself to him, and reach out at the tray to grab a Hershey’s kiss. I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth, laying my head back onto his shoulder and groan at its heavenly taste.

“If that’s all it takes to hear you make that sound, I’m buying you a truckload of them,” he breathes in my ear as he moves behind me, adjusting himself.

“Want one?” I tease as I bring it to his lips and then take it away and put it in my mouth, moaning purposefully this time. He laughs and I give him a Hershey kiss for real this time. “A girl could get used to this,” I murmur, liking the warmth of him against me.

We sit for a while and talk idly about this and that: families, travels, experiences, and work. I avoid the topic that I really want to delve into, knowing that his past is off limits. He is funny and witty and attentive and I can feel myself falling deeper and tangling myself further in his tantalizing web.

“Awesome, charismatic, and exciting,” Justin says breaking the silence between us.

I can’t help from laughing out loud at yet another attempt at finding out the meaning behind Ace. “Nope,” I say again, leaning back further into the warmth and comfort of his chest. I can feel his soft chuckle through my back.

“You’re never going to tell me are you?” he asks lifting a hand to brush hair off the side of my neck, exposing my bare skin so that his mouth can lace a kiss there.

“Nope,” I repeat again, fighting the shiver that runs through me as he nuzzles his nose down to my ear.

“How about addictive cock experience?” he murmurs, his breath tickling over my skin and chasing the path of vibrations his voice has left.

The laugh that bubbles in my throat falls silent to a sigh as he nips at my earlobe and sucks gently on the hollow spot just beneath it. “Hmmmm, that could work,” I manage as he wraps his arms around my chest, and I begin to run my fingers up and down the parts of his arms that I can reach. I angle my head further to the side, giving him more access to my expanse of sensitive skin when my nails cross a jagged line on his right forearm.

“That’s a nasty scar.” I murmur. “What super-masculine thing were you doing to acquire that?” I cringe at the thought of how much that must have hurt.

He’s quiet for a beat, kissing my temple and pressing his face to the side of mine so that I can feel him swallow in response. “Nothing of significance,” he says then falls quiet again. “Do you surf, Selena?” he asks, and I’m not blind to the subtle change of subject.

“Nope. Do you, Ace?” I take a sip of wine as he murmurs in assent.

“Ever tried?” he asks, the rasp of his voice in my ear.

“Uh-uh.”

“I should teach you sometime,” he offers.

“Probably not the best thing to do for someone like me who’s scared of sharks.”

“You’re kidding, right?” When I don’t respond, he continues, “Oh come on, it’d be fun. There aren’t any sharks out there that’ll bug you.”

“Tell that to the people who’ve been chomped on,” I challenge and despite the fact that he’s behind me, I cover my face in embarrassment when I timidly speak my next words. “When I was little I was so scared of them that I never swam in our pool because I used to think they’d come out of the drain and eat me.”

Justin laughs, his deep tone reverberating into me from his chest at my back. “Oh, Selena, didn’t anyone ever tell you that there are much more dangerous things on dry

land?”

Yes. You.

As I try to think of a witty retort, my ear catches the song playing over the speakers and out of reflex I murmur, “Great song.”

Justin still as he listens to the music and I can feel his head nod against the side of mine when he recognizes it. “Pink, right?”

“Hmm-hmm, ‘Glitter in the Air,’” I respond, distracted as I listen to the words of one of Haddie’s and my all-time favorite songs. Justin quiets behind me and runs his hands up my arms and starts to knead the muscles atop my shoulders. His hands are powerful and add just the right amount of pressure. “That feels like heaven,” I breathe as my already relaxed body turns to gel beneath his skillful fingertips.

“Good,” he whispers. “Just relax.”

I close my eyes and hand myself over to him, humming softly to the song. Justin runs his fingers down the line of my spine and rubs my lower back, my head lolling to the side at sublime feeling.

“Here comes the best part,” I say, realizing that I’ve spoken aloud the words I always tease Haddie for when she announces them at the bridge of the song. The lyrics come and I sing along as the words wash over me, moving me as they always do, bringing goose bumps to my flesh. “There you are, sitting in the garden, clutching my coffee, calling me sugar. You called me sugar.”

“I don’t get it,” Justin says, “Why is that the best part?”

“Because it’s the moment she realizes that he loves her,” I muse, a soft smile on my face.

“Why, Selena, you’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” he teases.

“Oh, shut up,” I shift to swat at him, embarrassed at my candor. Justin grabs my wrist, preventing my hand from connecting, and pulls me into him. His lips slant over mine and makes languid sweeping pass over them before licking into mine. He tastes of chocolate and beer and everything that is uniquely Justin. He cradles my head with one hand while the other runs aimlessly over my bare thighs. Fingertips graze softly without urgency or specific attention to any one spot. I could sit in this moment forever, the unexpected veneration in his actions unraveling me inside out.

Justin brushes a kiss on the tip of my nose before resting his forehead to mine, his hand still cupping the back of my head, fingers still knotted in my hair, his breath fluttering over my lips. “Selena?”

“Hmm-hmm, Ace.”

He flexes the hand in my hair. “Stay the night with me,” he exhales quietly.

I still, holding my breath. Oh. My. I can feel the emotion behind his request and can sense the difference from the last time he said it to me. He’s not saying it out of obligation but rather because this is what he wants. Does this mean that maybe he feels an inkling of what is coursing through me? My silence belies the truth of how I feel and he mistakes it for hesitancy at his request.

“I’ve never said that before and truly meant it, Selena.” His voice is a hushed plea that tugs at my heart and confirms my assumptions. He wraps his arms around me, cradling me in his lap, and pulls me with him as he leans back in the chaise, fingers playing in my hair. I remain silent, trying to clear the emotion from my voice before I speak.

“Hmmm, I don’t think I could move even if I tried,” I murmur.

“You’ll stay?” The eagerness in his voice surprises me.

“Yes.”

“In that case,” he muses, “I might have to take advantage of you again.”

“Again?” I laugh. His response is to grab my hips, lift me up and drag me astride him and his unmistakable readiness. He situates me on him so that our bodies fit together perfectly, each movement from him traveling through my thin panties and hitting me in just the right spot.

He sits up and kisses me forcefully, his tongue plunging between my parted lips, his hands pressing my body to him possessively. I grow dizzy wanting more of everything from him.

“I. Want. You. So. Much. Selena.” He pants between kisses down my neck. I bring my hands to his face, fingers touching coarse whiskers, and draw his head up to meet my eyes. “You’re addictive.”

“I know,” I whisper, telling him with my eyes I understand the depth of that desire. That I feel it too. The muscle in his jaw tenses momentarily before he crushes his mouth to mine, the connection between us a necessity like air.

“Ride me,” he pants. Such a simple command really but it’s the way he says it—as if the sun won’t rise in the morning if I don’t—that has me pulling back. I stare into his eyes, so hypnotizing, so intense, and so full of desire I wouldn’t deny him even if I could.

So I begin to move, surrendering myself to him. Again.

CHAPTER 25

The cool air that wisps over my skin is a stark contrast to the radiating heat pressing against me. My sleep-induced haze slowly clears from my mind as my eyes flutter open, startled and squinting at the natural light filtering in through the open windows. Awareness seeps into me of where I am—whom I’m with—when I hear the crash of surf below mixed with the cry of seagulls.

I start to shift in the sinfully comfortable bed, wanting to stretch my muscles that oddly I find sore, until I realize why. Sex, sex, and more sex. A smug smile crosses my lips at the thought of actually being sore from having too much sex. And it’s not a complaint.

The other obstacle preventing my movement is the source of heat keeping me warm despite the chilly morning breeze flowing in from outside. I am lying on my back and Justin is wrapped around me like a vine. He is on his side, one leg bent and slung over mine, and his hand splays possessively over my bare chest with his palm cupping my breast. I turn to find his head half on my pillow, half on his.

I study his face: the angles, the fan of thick, dark lashes against his golden skin, the curve adding character to the ridge of his nose. I reach over and brush an errant lock of hair off his forehead, careful not to

disturb him. In sleep, Justin’s dark and dangerous aura is softened by his disheveled hair, the absence of the intensity he carries around like a badge of protection, and the lack of tension in his jaw. I enjoy seeing this rare glimpse of him vulnerable and relaxed, his kissable lips parted in tranquil sleep.

Staring at him, my mind drifts back to last night. I recall his complete and unyielding attentiveness to me and my every need. I think of the new experiences he introduced me to and the pleasure he’s induced in me. My thoughts stray to leather restraints, vibrating eggs, and ice cubes inserted to melt as we became one, evoking that walk down the fine line of pleasure edged by pain. I think of how he showed me slow and soft before pushing me to the brink of oblivion by hard and fast. How by the light of the moon, in this expanse of a bed, he hovered over me, eyes intense, voice beseeching, and asked me to submit to him. Asked that I trust him to know what my body can handle and which threshold to push it to. And in that moment I was so captivated with him, I handed myself over to him without question or second thought. I agreed, knowing he already dominated my mind, heart, and body.

Afterwards, as I drifted off to sleep, his warm body pressed against my back and his mouth pressing softly in my hair, I questioned my judgment. My last thoughts before drifting off to sleep wondering what the hell I was getting myself in to by accepting his seemingly innocent request, for what is simple under a blanket of moonlight never seems to be when the next morning dawns.

Justin shifts beside me, rolling over so that his back is now toward me, and pulls the covers with him and off me. I shiver at the chill now that my human heater is gone, but happy that I can now stretch out my overused muscles. I wince as I flex my feet and extend my legs. I definitely wasn’t treated like glass last night, and if the unconscious oblivion called sleep I collapsed into afterward is any indication, I think my body quite liked it too.

I’m starting to get cold. I look over at the artfully sculpted lines of Justin’s back and I turn into him, tucking my body around him so that I can enjoy the feeling of my bare skin against his. My chin rests on his shoulder and my breasts pillow against his back as I curl my arms around him, comforted by his masculinity. I absently run my fingers across his chest as I slowly sink back into sleep.

I’m in that suspended state of the first stages of slumber when all of the sudden several things happen simultaneously and what seems to be in slow motion. Justin emits the most gut-wrenching, feral cry I’ve ever heard. I would’ve remained frozen in shock but he bucks his body violently back against me, connecting his elbow against my shoulder. “No!” falls from his mouth in a strangled shout. He jumps from the bed and turns around, legs spread, knees bowed, arms bent, and hands fisted in front of his face. His face is the picture of terror: eyes wild and haunted, flickering constantly, teeth clenched, and tendons straining in his neck. His chest heaves shallow breaths, body tense and vibrating with acute awareness as sweat beads on his forehead.

I instinctively grab my shoulder where it is smarting with pain. The shock of what just happened sinking in, my adrenaline pumping now so that my body shakes from its effects. If I hadn’t seen this kind of reaction from a nightmare before from some of my kids, I think I would be more startled and unsure than I am right now. If Justin didn’t have such a look of complete fear in his eyes and reflected on his face, I would have laughed at him standing nude, looking like he’s ready to throw down. But I know this isn’t a joke. I understand that Justin has had a dream dredging up the past that silently chases him and continues to traumatize him on a daily basis.

I roll my shoulder, the ache still present. “Justin,” I say evenly, not wanting to startle to him.

At my words I can see his eyes slowly come into focus at the room before him and the tension in his stance slowly abates. He turns his head and looks at me, a plethora of emotions in his eyes: embarrassment, shame, relief, fear, and apprehension. “Oh, fuck!” He shudders a breath, bringing his hands up to rub the fear from his face. The only sounds in the room are his heaving breaths, hand chafing over his stubble, and the ocean outside.

“Fuuuccckkk!” he repeats again, his eyes narrowing on my hand rubbing my shoulder. I can see him clench and unclench his fists as he realizes he’s hurt me somehow. I remain still as his eyes lower and his shoulders slouch. “Selena—I—” he turns abruptly and grabs the back of his neck with his hand, pulling down. “Give me a fucking minute,” he mutters as he quickly strides into the bathroom.

I gather the sheets up to my chest and watch him leave, wanting to reach out to him and tell him things he doesn’t believe or want to hear about what just happened. I sit there in indecision of what to do next when I hear the unmistakable sound of Justin vomiting. A knife twists deep down in my gut, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting desperately to comfort him.

The toilet flushes followed by a muttered curse and then I hear the faucet turn on and the brushing of teeth. I rise from the bed, sliding Justin’s shirt on when I hear him sigh again with his favored curse of the morning. I enter the bathroom, needing to make sure he is okay. I know he notes my presence for he stops the hand towel in mid-motion to his face when he senses me. We stand there frozen momentarily as he focuses on the water running from the faucet. His angst is palpable and smothers the air between us. Justin scrubs the towel over his face and turns toward me.

When he drops the towel from his face, the eyes that stare back at me are not his. The ones I’ve come to love. They are dead. Cold. Devoid of emotion. The muscle in his jaw pulses and the cords in his neck strain as he works his throat.

“Justin…” His glazed green eyes glare intently on mine causing any more words I’d planned to say falter on my lips.

“Don’t, Selena,” he warns. “You need to leave.” His command is flat. As lifeless as his eyes.

My heart lurches into my chest. What happened to him? What memory has reduced this vibrant, passionate man to nothing. “Justin,” I plead.

“Go, Selena. I don’t want you here.”

My bottom lip trembles at his words for he can’t possibly mean them after the evening we’ve just shared. I saw the emotion in his eyes last night. Felt from his actions how he feels about me. But now … all I can do is stare at him, the man before me unrecognizable.

The pain and fear before when he awoke from his dream was so obvious that all I wanted to do was to comfort him. Now I’m not quite sure what to do. I take a step forward and I hear his teeth grind in reaction. I’ve worked with traumatized children but I am way out of my element here. I look down at my clasped hands and whisper brokenly, “I just want to help.”

“Get out!” he roars causing my head to snap up in time to see his dead eyes spark to life with unfiltered anger. “Get the fuck out, Selena! I don’t want you here! Don’t need you here!”

I stand there frozen, his unprovoked anger immobilizing me. “You don’t mean that,” I stutter.

“Like hell I don’t!” he yells, the sound echoing off of the stone tiles and reverberating. Our eyes hold in silence as I process the hurt he’s spewing. In the back of my mind I know there’s a reason for this—for his actions—but my mind is so jumbled with the hurt and shock from his venom that I can’t rationally process anything. Justin takes a threatening step toward me and I just stare at him shaking my head. He throws the towel with a curse, the clatter of bottles it knocks over ricocheting around the pin-drop quiet bathroom. His eyes angle back toward mine as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. When he speaks, his voice is chillingly cruel. “I’ve fucked you, Selena, and now I’m done with you! I told you that’s all I was good for, sweetheart…”

His brow creases momentarily as the tears that burn the back of my throat well in my eyes and spill over. The hurt from his callous words turning my stomach and wringing my heart. My head tells my legs to move—to leave—but my body doesn’t listen. When I just stand there, dumbfounded and shell-shocked, he grabs my bag from the bathroom counter and strides forward to shove it forcefully against my chest, propelling me backward through the door I had just entered. “Out!” he grates through gritted teeth, growling at me for good measure. His bare chest heaving. His pulse pounding in his temple. His fists clenched. “I’m bored with you already. Can’t you see that? You’ve served your purpose. A quick amusement to bide my time. Now I’m done. Get out!”

Blinded by tears, I fumble with my bag and run blindly down the stairs. I can feel the weight of his stare on my back as I descend. I race through the house, my heart lodged in my throat and my head an absolute mess. My chest hurts so bad that pain radiates in it as I drag in each labored breath. Thoughts elude me. Hurt engulfs me. Regret fills me for I thought what between us was so much more.

I burst through the front door and into the brightness of the early morning sun, but all I feel is the darkness in my heart. I stagger, drop my purse, and fall to my knees to retrieve it. I sit like that, staring at a beautiful morning, but seeing none of it.

Letting the tears wash over me.

Allowing the humiliation to consume me.

Feeling my heart break into two.

[paulrousseauwrites-blog]

“50 Pounds for $200,000

Fifty Pounds for $200,000

Justin graduated from college a couple days ago, earning a Bachelor of Arts degree in History. He waits at Eric’s front step, rolling on the balls of his feet. Eric is Justin’s new boss. Eric makes a little beat on his pants, glancing over some email and recipes online.

Justin rings the bell. Eric hurries to greet him.

“I am so glad you’re here,” Eric says. Justin follows a few inches behind. They walk directly to the basement door, as agreed. There is a handwritten sign taped to it reading ‘The Backyard.’

“Justin, right?” Eric makes sure. He says there were numerous other candidates. Justin nods, tucking in his upper lip. Eric’s eyebrows are shaven off, but the rest of his hair looks fantastic in a ponytail. Justin looks young with unkept scruff on his face and big, beautiful, coffee bean eyes. “I know how tough it can be to find a good job after school,” Eric says. “I got lucky in life. But don’t worry, your hard work will pay off here.”

He leads down a straight unfinished staircase. Justin goes pale, using the handrail until his first shoe sole touches the basement floor. It is covered in green turf, mocking the look and feel of grass. There is only enough square footage for one wooden picnic table, Eric’s furnace, and the type of scale found at a doctor’s office, with three variable sliding weights at the top. Eric motions for Justin to take a seat on the bench. Justin obeys.

“Welcome to your new office,” Eric says. He leans over the table. Justin is silent. He looks at the poking blades of worn plastic grass. “The décor was my mom’s idea,” Eric says. “She wanted to give me a taste of what is was like to play outside. You know how little girls put on make believe tea parties?” Eric asks.

Justin nods his head yes. He thinks about the tiara and scarf he would wear while babysitting his girlfriend’s niece, sitting cross-legged on the floor. She would tip the toy kettle spout over Justin’s cup, giving artificial weight to the pour. Justin would ask why nothing was really coming out. Pretend, she would say. And he would take a sip.

“I did make believe Backyard instead,” Eric says. “BBQs and picnics. I fed all the little critters that made their way down here.”

Eric is a self-taught chef. He pays recent college graduates $200,000 to live in his basement and gain fifty pounds eating the food he makes. And he feeds them constantly. Once they gain the weight, they get paid in cash, and then they can leave.  

***

Sara walks into Justin’s bedroom, a week before graduation. Justin is playing guitar in a swivel chair with his back to the door, unaware anyone has entered. The window is open, permeating the space in a perennial spray. It has gotten dark since he first sat down, but he hadn’t noticed. Sara pops the light switch upwards on instinct as she crosses over the doorway’s threshold. Justin’s pupils retract.

“Sorry! I figured you were in the bathroom,” she says. Sara is a Management major with a minor in Entrepreneurship.  

She wraps her arms around Justin’s neck as if her limbs were an oversized sweatshirt, crisscrossing at his throat. She catches a breath of his cologne. He doesn’t stop playing or turn to see who it is.

They hold there for a moment. Sara squeezes, applying a little pressure to the tops of her boyfriend’s shoulder blades, his collarbone. Justin picks his guitar, looking at the fret board binding and headstock inlays. She kisses his hair before releasing him to claim a patch of carpet near his legs.

Justin nods. Sara looks up, grinning as if she is out to dinner somewhere waiting patiently for her food to be plated, or in line for something worthwhile, like the opening night of a movie.

He plays a little longer. It sounds new, or improvised, too slow for Sara’s taste, but she watches anyway for a cue that his is finishing soon. Her expression looks stitched on like a sock puppet, like she has something to say, but the hand working her is refusing to interrupt. Justin places the instrument onto its designated stand, turns off the light, and sits back down.

***

Eric has moved on to bigger and better things now. No more BBQs and picnics for the rodents and insects. No more crumbs, bed sores, or pretend. “I’m going to start you off with my famous baked mac and cheese with charred short ribs mixed in, grilled asparagus in a chipotle aioli smear on the side, and for a sweet, two fudge brownie cupcakes. You don’t happen to like cream cheese whipped topping, do you?” Eric asks.

Justin nods yes, his eyebrows parked up higher than usual. Eric points parallel finger guns at Justin’s torso, one slightly behind the other. “I thought you might,” he says. He scampers upstairs, skipping every other step, then shuts The Backyard door.  

Eric himself looks like he doesn’t eat at all. He is very thin for someone who enjoys cooking so much, with a small tongue and flat lips. He has many dietary restrictions due to disease. He dips spoons in sauces and dabs out his stubby tongue to taste them, as if it were a dare. Forty-five minutes later, he returns to The Backyard with Justin’s first taste of employee business.

***

“Hey you,” Justin says. He stretches his spine over the back of his chair.

“Hi. I know it’s later than usual but I wanted to eat quick and shower before seeing you,” Sara says.

“Thanks, stinky,” he says.

“Well I was moving around a lot today! I get sweaty when I drive,” she says.

“How did it go with all the stuff?” he asks.  

Sara coils with potential energy before the hand controlling her mouth finally bursts. “I got a call back for a second round interview with Northgate!”

Justin blinks in triplets. His eyelashes are longer than most people’s. “That’s really really great,” he says.

“The only problem is that it’s at 11:00 and I have another interview with a different marketing firm at 9:30 so I’m nervous about timing. GPS says if I leave there by 10:00 I should be able to make it regardless of how heavy traffic is,” she says, flicking through maps on her cell phone.

“AM or PM?” Justin asks.

Sara doesn’t look up. “Really?” she laughs. “I get more and more worried knowing I’ll have to cut the first interview short if it starts dragging on too long. Is that rude? Will they call Northgate and tell them I was rude and then no one will hire me?”

“If you don’t care about the first one why don’t you just cancel it?” he prods.

“I can’t! I need the experience. Plus what if they pay six figures? It shouldn’t take more than a half an hour right?”

“Tell them you have to leave ahead of time.”  

“I suppose. I need that job at Northgate, Justin. Everyday, the front desk lady blares Brittany Spears. They get paid time off, health, dental, Thursday night drink specials with the entire staff, and a nap room. All we talked about in the first interview was Harry Potter and how much we love caffeine.”

“That’s really something,” he says.

Sara lifts herself up into Justin’s bed, on her side with her head propped up in the palm of her hand. “I need that job so bad.”

***

Eric sets the table with enough food to feed a family of five. He is wearing an apron imprinted with the text ‘in dog beers I’ve only had one.’

“And?” he baits, opening his arms like someone waiting at an airport terminal, expecting a hug.

 “Okay,” Says Justin. He closes his eyes.

 “What are you waiting for?” Eric asks.

“I’m saying grace,” Says Justin. He waits for Eric to leave.  

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Eric says. He hands Justin a bib, legs firmly planted on the imitation grass. Each coupling blade looks like a pair of arms, budding out of the floor to hold him down.

 “Why?” Asks Justin.

 “You gotta wear the bib,” Eric says. “Wouldn’t want to make a mess of your nice shirt.”

 Justin shakes his head no.

“It is in the job description,” Eric begins. “It could be a month or more till your next change of clothes.” Eric loves seeing the transformation happen. He loves watching his employees fill out and eventually outgrow their clothing, new flesh bursting at the seams. “You all balloon up like circus tents eventually,” he says. Eric puffs his cheeks out with air and slaps his belly. He laughs. “I can help if you’d like? Do you up in the back?”

Justin doesn’t respond. His eyelids draw closer together as if someone were slowly sewing them shut, pouring sand in his veins. The same devastation that used to haunt him when he’d get called on in class. A professor could simply announce Justin’s name in roll call to get him afflicted.

Eric repossesses the bib and ties it around Justin’s neck as if he were a newborn baby, in a perfect shoelace bow. “This way you can be as messy as you want and it won’t stink you up.” Eric takes a breath of Justin’s cologne. Both hearts are throbbing. Eric pats down the bib to flatten it. “There, ta da!” He waits, arms raised high above his ponytail. “Now… dig in!”

Justin shakes his head no.

 “I always supervise the first bite of my employees,” Eric says. He gets a Polaroid camera ready. “Consider it an orientation exercise.”

Justin fumbles with the silverware, hesitating between utensils, between fork and spoon, hesitating in his posture, where he is in space, and how he got there.

“The fork is for the asparagus,” Eric says. He gapes his nostrils in short bursts.  

Justin scoops a spoonful of macaroni and holds it tentatively above its dish. Everything steams. He brings the spoon closer to his split crescent lips and cools it softly.

“Eat up! No need to be coy. I made it just for you. Give your body the nutrients.”

Justin feels naked, like the first time he took off his shirt to go swimming. He gathers some of Eric’s noodles using his front teeth, raking them onto the cupped pallet of his tongue, miming the action of a miniature farming tool. Justin chews making as little noise as possible. He wipes away excess run-off cheese from of the corner of his mouth that bungeed and curled there. There is a camera flash.  

“Excellent. Thank you for the sweet satisfaction,” Eric croons. He ruffles the top of Justin’s hair. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” he says. He races upstairs again lunging over many steps at a time. Justin keeps feeding alone.

***

“What are you thinking about?” Sara asks, covering her legs in Justin’s comforter.

Justin steers with his feet, swiveling in little increments to each side as if he were skiing in place on his chair.

“Music,” he says. “History.”

“Still waiting to hear back from grad school?”

“Yes,” he lies. The email came last week, regretfully informing him, wishing him every success in pursing further studies elsewhere.

“You are a shoe-in,” she says. “You are way too smart. You are too smart for your own good.” She takes her shirt off. “I can’t wait until we live together. I am jealous of Kevin and your sister.” She touches her hands to her temples. “I want to buy a house with you.”

“They are older than us,” he says. “And almost married.”

“I know, but they are so lucky,” she says.

“I know,” he says. “I’ll hear back soon.”

“You’re so talented. Nobody could possibly turn you down,” she assures.

Justin crawls into bed with her using mostly his forearms. She rolls over, now on her back in a bundle of pillows. They lie side by side.

***

Justin eats it all, as agreed. Eric comes down the stairs at the thirty-minute mark, ringing a cattle bell and grunting some sounds a pig might make with his mouth, “oink oink oink.”

He takes a seat on the same side of picnic bench next to Justin. Justin pats down his forehead with paper towel and just now notices that the ceiling is covered in navy blue construction paper with crudely painted on treetops and clouds.

“Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour,” Eric quotes. “This isn’t necessarily a job requirement, but how was the grub?”

Justin’s sock puppet is stitched shut. It was the tastiest food he has ever had, better than anything his parents or grandparents have ever made for him in his own childhood home, but he admits to nothing.

“That’s fine, if you want to get paid, if you want to leave, you’ll eat it all the same,” Eric says. “Time for weigh-in numeral uno.” Eric points with his thumb over his shoulder at the scale behind them, propped up against a patch of drywall. His breath smells like hamster bedding. “Your new best friend, as I’m sure you are aware,” he says. He bites down repeatedly on his own teeth. The skin in charge of covering his cheekbones tightens like a snare drum.  

Justin’s stomach hurts. He blinks in triplets.

“Giddy up partner,” Eric says. “Hop on.”

Justin obeys, stepping up onto the scale, holding his torso. The turf stabs through Justin’s tennis shoes as he walks, gabbing at his feet. Eric says Justin is lucky he doesn’t make his employees crawl on all fours anymore. It became too painful for them to eat salty foods with their hands. Eric nudges the three varying brushed steel counterweight blocks, fingering the smallest in little jabs to get the best possible measurement. He bobs his shoulders, dancing a little, waiting for the bars to level. They recalibrate, and he does it again. Justin weighs 168 pounds.

“I think I see a little tummy forming already, bud! I really filled you up,” Eric says.

Justin is hunched over a little. Eric pens the number on the wall with a black permanent marker. He smiles, not showing teeth, thinning his already flat lips, stretching them longways until the color draws out completely.  

“Weigh-ins will be at seven o’clock every evening,” Eric says. He is rich. His dad invented the Rubix Cube.

“I need the money,” Justin says.

“I know,” Eric says.  

Justin needs the money for student loans, and property taxes, and cell phone bills, and engagement rings. Eric doesn’t need money for much of anything except ingredients.

***

“I’m awful. You must think I’m awful, or a snob,” Sara says, covering her eyes.

 “Why would I think that?” Justin counters.

 “I’m bragging about jobs and interviews and you’re still in limbo waiting to hear back from school. You’d tell me if you were getting antsy right?” she says.

“It’s fine. Really. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine,” he says. “You can’t be awful for just being excited.”

“Alright. You’re going to get accepted anyway.” Sara straddles her legs around Justin’s V-lined hips, drawing micro French curves all over his chest. “I just can’t wait to tell everyone about my boyfriend, the big sexy historian, teaching the world all sorts of history related things. You’ll be making bank, I’ll be making bank, we can buy a huge house, get married, go on tons of exotic vacations, throw money at each other, get unlimited data plans…”

“That’s painting quite the picture.” He rubs her thigh with his nails.

 “I can’t wait to bask in our success,” she says. “We are such a power couple.”

The hand operating Justin’s mouth creeps open, as if wanting to say something. Sara closes in. They kiss instead. She retreats, then presses her lips quickly on his nose.

“I love you,” she says.

***

“To snack on tonight I was thinking shredded chicken enchiladas tossed in a green chile sauce, pan fried walleye fish tacos, and beef empanadas with cilantro rice and refried pinto beans on the side.”  

Justin shrugs knowing he has no real say in the matter.

He steps off the scale and tries to find the warm spot back on the bench’s wood grain. Eric hustles upstairs, again bounding over two steps at a time. He stops in the doorway, and pirouettes. He pats a rhythm on his legs before saluting diagonally to Justin from the top of the staircase.

“Adieu, see you soon! I’ll bring a bucket with me after your next course, you know what they say, what goes up must come down.”

Justin waits for the privacy. He thinks about his girlfriend and her little niece. When they taught him how to pretend. He wishes Eric’s plates were empty like the toy kettle, that he just had to add artificial weight to them, and then take a bite or sip. Justin masks his head in his hands, twisting his face in an attempt to cry without making sound.

***

Sara is sleeping. Justin starts to climb out of bed, pressing his hands on the mattress as to gradually release the pressure that his body held next to hers. He doesn’t want to wake her up, he doesn’t know how to say I love you too right now. He checks his inbox instead. There is a reply from EricEats@hotmail.com with the subject bar ‘50 lbs. for $200,000.’

[hungriestheidi]

ROC SWEDEN 2022 -> ICE BATH