#lewis could run me over in this car and i'd thank him

[ariesf1fan27]

no but like the way the black livery from last year and lewis' purple helmet make me feel should be illegal 💜

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka x Narrator & Sam Kiszka x OC.

Chapter Two

Summary: The Jones Family are new additions to the sleepy community of Beech Run. A tight knit scattering of rural houses, where everyone knows everyone. Deeply religious and overbearingly strict, the daughters of the family are kept under lock & key by a fanatical Father and submissive Mother. They watch from bedroom windows as their neighbours, The Kiszkas, draw intense curiosity and desire to be free. Madness of youth , hope & obsession collide to bring the danger of forbidden love to poetic ends. (Era A/U)

A/N: This chapter is particularly seeped in religious doubt. There's sexual activity in church. Spanking and cock warming and talk of it being a punishment from God. If you are particularly religious or have any trauma regarding this I urge you not to read. These views are the views of a character I have created and do not directly display the views of the writer.

Warnings:Religious trauma. Parental trauma. Intense emotions including desire, obsession, grief and yearning.Loss of virginity.Explicit sexual activity.Heavy praise kink.Severe edging.Oral sex m/f.Fingering.Masturbation.Dirty filth talk.

Summer 1984

I would have taken a thousand punishments in the wake of the memory of that hazy afternoon. Surrounded by tall grass and the sound of crickets on the breeze. Jake, and his exploration of my body, like a dream that I'd yet to wake from. Still frames in my mind, of his mouth and his eyes and his voice. I could still smell his flesh long after I parted from him. Consumed by it even as I stood at the foot of the stairs, beyond the hour of our curfew. My fate already sealed.

Jolene was unrepentant. The flush of her cheeks and the ravaging of her hair telling a story that she would never utter in words. I knew better than to ask. But when she'd appeared, breathless and without remorse, I knew that Sam Kiszka had been gifted with her heart, and perhaps more.

I don't think either of us came away from that afternoon exactly as we'd arrived. If innocence was the price paid, I felt a little richer for what I'd received in return. Perhaps a bird with clipped wings losing it's feathers, only to find that beneath there was an even greater bird just waiting to fly. That was how I imagined myself. On the verge of taking flight.

"Explain to me, boy."

Dad was standing in the hall, formidable and with a rage simmering away beneath a steady gaze. I'd only ever seen him this vexed once before, during a time when he'd been forced to reconsider the limits of his power over our brother. I thought, perhaps, that Ben would take his moment to exert his mounting power. But he wasn't the alpha, not yet.

"Car trouble, Dad." He replied nonchalantly, throwing his jacket on the bannister. "We're only a half hour late."

He would lie for us, but only to better serve his own needs. If he wanted to take Harriet Dinsmore out again and use the car, he'd have to pretend that nothing nefarious had happened out there while he was meant to be our escort.

"Don't you lie to me, boy!"

The way he spat the words out made me flinch. Instinctively reaching for Jolene's hand. The two of us ravaged and ruined by those boys, softly acknowledging that flower petals had been plucked in those fields. And we would take whatever punishment would accompany it.

"I had a phone call from Mrs. Dinsmore. Thanking me for my son getting Harriet home at a reasonable hour." He said, meeting his son at eye level. "And then she also happened to mention that young Lewis had been glad to see my girls down at the creek today."

I sensed the fear in Ben's eyes. The boy he once was never too far away. Bolstered by his freedom and the reluctance to lose it, he backed down immediately. And my lungs deflated.

"I left them in town, I swear." He pleaded, "I didn't know they went to the creek. I swear, Dad!"

It was pitiful. The way his cheek was turned as our Father struck it. That painful retrospect of what he could or should have said playing over and over in his mind as he looked directly at us. As if somehow Jolene and I had caused this. As if he didn't understand quite fully how free will worked just yet, and he'd had a choice. He could have told the truth.

"I'll deal with you later."

There was a look of reproach as Ben stormed up the stairs, clutching his cheek in a shame that was yet to properly manifest itself. He'd treat us like ghosts for the rest of the summer, but we truly didn't mind.

I was sad to see him go, still. Without the focus on Ben it meant that it was my turn to feel my Father's wrath. A wrath that he truly believed was descended from God himself. Sometimes I wondered if the truly believed that, or if it was a diocese of lies he told himself in order to sleep at night as the tyrant he truly was.

"I expected better from you." He said, standing with his finger extended at me. "I expect my daughters to uphold the values of this house and the church we embody. Not go against my word at the first opportunity."

He cast his eye towards Jolene, who would stand firm. She'd finally experienced something worth holding on to. Something she would protect, even in the face of God's wrath; which seemed to always wear our Fathers face.

"Dad, we're sorry." I apologised, although the validity of it felt like a sin within itself. "We had every intention to go into town with Ben. It was awful hot though, and we just wanted to cool off by the water. We didn't know that there would be others down there. Promise."

There were flecks of spit in the corners of his mouth as he leaned in. A tremble of his lip as he tried to keep his tongue in check. I could see my Mother lingering in the kitchen door way, like a shadow that bore no use without the shade she dwelled in. Both of them prisoners to their own demeanours. I hoped that there'd been a time, once, where they'd known how it felt to lay down and feel what I had felt that afternoon.

"Proverbs 19:9 - A false witness shall be punished, and a liar shall be caught." He quoted, as he often did, when he needed witness to his tyranny. "And I'll not have liars for children."

I didn't feel much like a child. And he would see me punished like the young woman I was becoming. Yanking me away from my sister, digging venom into my flesh with fingertips that intended to bruise me.

"You'll go to the church. And you'll pray on it until the sun comes up. And if I don't find you on your knees, you'll stay there until supper tomorrow."

Jolene knew better than to protest. Her hands flew to her mouth as he handled me out of the door and out towards the car. Her silent pleas for him to let me go left on the tip of her tongue. I wouldn't struggle. And she knew that I would go to my punishment as willingly as she would go to hers. And somehow, we knew, that we'd meet in the aftermath.

I was grateful for the sweet coolness of the church floor. The ebb and flow of a breeze that in the shade was a welcome respite from the summer heat. My knees were bent, pressed into the red velvet tuffet as I rested my elbows on the solid wooden edge of the kneeler bench. Genuflecting to the lord with my fingers entwined and a solemn knot in my stomach.

That was where he found me. Alone in my retribution. The gentle click of the church door alerting me to his presence, although I didn't turn and look. I allowed the echo of his footsteps to guide him towards me, my eyes burning into the effigy of Jesus Christ on the cross. My knuckles white, palms growing steadily more sweaty.

In the candle light it appeared as if Jesus was smiling at me. And I wondered if it were a cruel trick to lull me into thinking that I was absolved. The devil painted such a beautiful picture in my mind, and he arrived just when I thought I could be saved.

"I followed you." He said, his voice echoing against the rafters. "I didn't think he was going to leave you here, though."

He would know me in my anguish. I dared to turn my head a little, greeting him with a soft apology for the state in which he'd found me in.

"You should leave, Jake." I whispered, afraid that if my voice carried any higher God himself would hear.

He was wearing the same shorts, sunburnt shoulders now covered by a light blue shirt. Half of his hair tied back, the rest tumbling down against his neck. As I swallowed, I realised my mouth was unflinchingly dry. The sight of him an unholy memory of what he had done to me mere hours ago.

"I'm not leaving this church until you do." He assured me, slumping down onto the dusty floor, his back against the kneeler. He propped his forearms up on bent knees and sighed heavily. He didn't ask me to stop praying. He just...sat there.

"You'll be here until dawn." I warned him.

"So be it." He replied, without hesitation. "If I'm the cause of your punishment, I'll be the remedy too."

I didn't quite know what he meant. I didn't dare ask him to explain. The darkness was drawing ever closer and the temperature was dropping. The candles flickered in the encroaching draft, and my knees began to give way. The warmth of the afternoon felt like a fever dream. And he could feel the way my body began to tremble against the enormity of it all.

"Here." He offered, rising to press himself against my back, "Lean against me."

He took a little of my weight, but still didn't make me stop my prayers. He was like scaffolding around me, holding me up as I tried to right the perceived wrong I had done. His body still felt warm and tender against mine, his breath exhaling on the line of my jaw. His chest against me, arms tucked around my waist. I felt completely detached from the divine. As if my soul wanted nothing more than to dwell with Jake.

"We didn't do anything wrong today, Bonnie. You know that, right?"

I wasn't a moral compass on what was right and what was wrong. All I knew was that I'd done something which merited the endurance of midnight prayer. I couldn't speak to it, the softness within which I recalled the heat of the afternoon. It had me tongue tied as I tried to speak to God and beg for his forgiveness for such wretched wickedness. The wickedness of pleasure.

But God didn't speak to me that night. The only voice I could hear was Jakes.

"Do you want to be punished?" He asked, "For what we did?"

His question caught me off balance. My breath caught a little and a tiny, almost indiscernible gasp escaped my lips. This involuntary move made him hold me a little closer, a little tighter. Pulling my body up and more earnestly against him.

"God see's everything." I replied, trying to breathe against his palms that were flat to my sternum. "I'll be punished regardless."

He breathed an amused little sigh into my ear.

"If God see's everything, he's an immoral voyeur who knows that the flesh he created cries out for touch." He explained, taking the liberty of wrapping his fist around the hem of my dress. "Don't you think what we did down by the creek was a gift from God?"

When I thought about it like that, like it was God's hand guiding me into sin, I didn't want to believe in him anymore. And not because the God I'd been raised to fear might have been a foolish idea created by men who desired control over others, but because there seemed to be no God that could ever satisfy me.

"What are you saying?" I asked, keeping still as he pulled my dress up, revealing my underwear to the altar.

"Puppets. All of us. Moving around by the command of one puppeteer." He continued, his voice low and commanding. "All seems a little... inconceivable. Doesn't it?"

I was powerless to stop it. The thrum of blood beating in my core. The way it seemed that every muscle and sinew in my body seemed weak against his strength.

"All these moving parts, tethered by invisible strings to a hand nobody can see." He preached now, tucking the back of my dress into my bra strap, viciously pulling down my panties until I was fully exposed where I knelt. "You could kneel at this altar for hours in penance and feel nothing. Or you could let me help you feel something."

"You blaspheme." I whispered, closing my eyes as he slipped a righteous palm down the curve of my ass.

"You blaspheme!" He growled, "Against yourself, against your body...against me."

Perhaps I did. Fear was the definition of every corner I'd ever turned. Fear of God. Fear of my Father. Fear of wanting something I knew neither of those things would ever allow. It all seemed trivial though, somehow, when Jake ran such careful hands over me. When I could feel his body responding to mine. Heavenly, almost.

"Proceed, then." I allowed, fingertips digging into the bench. "If you're here to make me feel something. Go ahead."

If Jake was here, perhaps he was sent by God to instruct my punishment? Or maybe it was all just a bunch of nonsense. Maybe he was here because he wanted to be? Maybe all of this was just fuelled by nothing more than two people who wanted this?

I could feel the trembling in his body as he prepared himself. My underwear languished at my knees, my dress pulled up so that my entire lower body was on display. I remained in my kneeling position as he pulled himself back, taking a deep breath.

"Do you want to be punished, Bonnie?" He asked again.

"There is no God, is there?" I almost sobbed. "Only us?"

"Have faith in me." He replied so softly, his hand slowly riding down my thigh. "I'll never worship anything but you, Bonnie. I swear it."

I'd never forget that night in the church. The way my fear in God died and in it's place was planted a new found obsession for pleasures I'd been repeatedly denied.

Jake was nothing if not gentle with me. The soft rise and fall of his hand as it skimmed the inside of my legs, parting them a little where I knelt. His arm was pressed against my collar bone, keeping me steady when I might weaken. His subtle whispers were for me, not even God was privy to them as he spoke directly into the shell of my ear.

And then I knew his purpose. The slow roll of my body as he leaned it forward. The sharp recoil of his previously gentle palm as it reeled back. And the bitter sting of it as it connected with my flesh. The sound echoing around the church walls. And my silent scream ringing out into the far reaches of my mind, unable to flow out of my mouth as I bit down heavily on my lower lip.

Jakes hand lingered on my ass. Squeezing it as he centred himself. The very act he'd just performed seemed to draw such high levels of arousal that his breath seemed to cease for a moment. His mouth resting breathlessly against my shoulder as he pulled back once more. This time the connection was even more unyielding. And he moaned, digging fingertips into my tissue where I knew it would bruise.

Each time he spanked me I could feel myself drawing closer to something divine. Not God, not a deity I could believe in. The tears of it dripped down my inner thigh and rolled down my leg into the fabric at my knees. This was something else. Something only Jake could give me. My senses were entirely heightened. The sound of it against church rafters. The sting of it on my reddened skin. The pain of each squeeze as he revelled in it, and the way he seemed to go deeper into an arousal he could only speak of in feral groans with each snap.

"Your silence wont make a difference." He said, noticing the droplets between my legs for the first time. "Your body speaks where your voice will not."

I was still learning. "Once more." I urged.

I needed it. Whatever this feeling was. I craved it. The way his reactions made me wetter and wetter. The way his ministrations made it unbearable for him. The way I knew it was because of me that he damn near sank his teeth into the flesh at the base of my neck. Fighting for his life as he breathed harder. Kneading my ass cheek, rolling his palm over the heat.

"Tell me how much you need it." He begged, "Tell me how much you need my palm across your sweet little ass."

I began to think, perhaps, that he needed it more than I.

"Is it wrong how badly I need it?" I dared to ask, my voice quiet and small.

"No." He breathed. "You don't have to be pure if you don't want to be."

He did it again. Harder. With more vicious intent. The sensation of it sending ripples through my flesh and down into the folds of my beating pussy. That time I couldn't hold myself together. Whimpering so wretchedly that the candle flames danced in my breath.

"Again." I beseeched.

He didn't preach to me again that night. He pummelled his hand over my ass repeatedly until I gushed a river. My cries finally finding their voice. Ascending like a choir into the bell tower. With each switch of his wrist he grew more insatiable. And it seemed that he couldn't bear it any longer once he was done with me. Almost as if all it would take would be one more strike to make him ravage me.

He was exhausted by the time he hastily pulled up my panties. Ruffling down my dress, making it appear as if he'd never touched me at all. Nuzzling against my neck, his nose pressed against my jaw. Trying to swallow and breathe, like he'd lost all control. And despite the drop in the temperature, his brow was covered in a sheen of sweat.

I fell helplessly into his arms. My legs buckled under the weight of what we'd done. And he held me tenderly. The hand which had executed my desired punishment now brushing back my hair and lovingly stroking across my temple. I didn't reach orgasm, neither did he. But there was this strange comforting feeling I knew we both shared that something had inexplicably changed there in the church that night.

Once we had both calmed, we found ourselves tangled in a sweet embrace as we sat on the cool church floor. He coiled a light touch beneath my chin, cupping it in the curve of his index finger as he tilted my head up to meet his gaze. And he kissed me with all the uncontrollable arousal he'd supressed. His tongue explored mine. His gentle lips soft like pillows, opening and closing at slow intervals to allow his tongue to retract. Pulling back just enough to look into my eyes as daylight began to turn the black night into a pale blue hue.

"Why don't you ever stand up to him, your Dad?" He asked, playing absently with my fingers as we held each other. "You're eighteen. Surely that has to count for something?"

I knew he would ask eventually, I thought perhaps it would have come a little later.

"It's not like it is at your house." I sighed, "Your parents actually care about what you want. I don't think my Dad ever stopped to wonder if any of us wanted any of this. It just... is."

He stroked the back of my hand and curled both of his around it, closing around it like an oyster shell. "It doesn't have to be."

I wanted to join him in his hopefulness. But with the sun coming up I knew that I would have preferred to face the consequences of him being there alone. Another punishment. Another atonement for something I'd done that felt good.

"You'd better go before he gets here to pick me up." I responded, with my heart sinking even as the words spilled out. "I don't want you to have to deal with him."

But Jake was staunch. Sometimes I forgot that he was older than me.

"I'd take him on in a heartbeat if it meant that I got to keep you." He said reluctantly, sweeping his lips across my cheek. "Find what you love...and let it kill you."

The day I met Jake was the day that everything started to make sense. The night I spent with Jake in that church was the night I knew why. The pieces of my life finally started to fit. And there was no joy to be found in anything except for him. And I knew that I was irrevocably in love with him. Doomed, some might say.

Jolene was sitting in the window as I arrived home. Her forlorn morning stare reaching out to me through the glass as I climbed out of the car, the journey home wordless and without any conclusion. My Father had simply walked into the church, ascertained that I hadn't fallen asleep at my post, and opened the door for me to walk outside.

The weary walk to my room was peppered with my Mother taking my cardigan at the door and sheepishly asking me if I was feeling alright. I felt a sense of betrayal from her that usually simmered below the surface, but that particular morning it raged so aggressively I could barely look at her.

"May I go to sleep now?" I asked, ascending the stairs as my Dad silently nodded his approval.

No sooner had I opened the door, Jolene flew to it. Dark circles painted beneath her eyes, as if she hadn't drawn a wink of sleep either. Her nails bitten down to the quick and almost manic as she gripped my shoulders.

"Did Jake find you?" She demanded, frantic as I tried to sit at my desk. "I saw him, his car sped out of the driveway after Dad took you out. He looked pretty pissed."

There was a strange sense that my head was under water. It felt like my ears were blocked and my vision blurred. I hadn't slept, I'd been on high alert. And every time I thought it was safe to, I forgot that it hurt to sit down.

"Yes, yes... he found me." I sighed, pulling off my dress and slipping into my night gown. "We can talk about it later, now I really need to sleep."

She continued to fret as I climbed into bed. I hadn't realised that my body had been tensed, my muscles suddenly relaxing as I pulled my blanket around me. In here nothing else mattered and I closed my eyes. Feeling Jolene's unease as she lingered on the edge of her bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Let me sleep, Jo." I said, eyes still clamped shut.

She hesitated a little before responding.

"I had sex with him, Bonnie." She whispered, forcing me to open my eyes.

I wasn't really sure what I'd expected her to say. That perhaps they'd exchanged a sweet kiss. That she'd let him trail his fingers up her shirt, but nothing quite so absolute as the full act.

"What do you mean?" I asked, reluctantly sitting up as a beam of morning light began to creep in through the crack in the curtains.

She rolled her eyes and began wringing her hands between the folds of her night gown nervously.

"That's why we were late to get back to meet Ben." She explained, her eyes trained on the closed bedroom door. "All of this is my fault. I should have been the one doing midnight prayer. I'm the reason we were late. I'm the one who committed the sin."

She'd endured her own type of punishment. I could see it in the way she couldn't settle. Her knees in a frenzy as they shook up and down, her fingers in her mouth as she continued to chew on her nails. I opened up my blanket and invited her to lay with me. Immediately she drew the same calm as I had from being shrouded in pillows and blankets. Our bodies side by side as I hunkered down with her. Something we hadn't done since childhood.

"Was it what you wanted?" I asked, delicately pushing her hair away from her tired face. "With Sam? Did you do it because you wanted to?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course I wanted to. He didn't make me do anything. Maybe I got caught up in the moment, but he was gentle with me from start to finish."

He was just like Jake. She weaved a tale so soft and seeped in romanticism that I was swept away with it. The way he'd offered her his hand to hold. The way he'd wanted to show her where all the fish liked to gather at an old bridge further down the creek, and they'd sat with their feet dangling off the edge talking about nothing of consequence. It sounded like a perfect summer afternoon. And she'd let him kiss her on that bridge for the first time, her and I locked in our unfolding stories at the same time.

"One minute we were kissing on that bridge and the next he scooped me up and carried me to the river bank. I don't think either of us had any idea what we were going to do. It just...happened."

She didn't have an inkling of regret. Even though she was sleep deprived, there was a sparkle there in her eyes as she talked about him. About the way he'd soothed her with caresses, assuring him it was what she wanted when he would have stopped. Calling her his little grasshopper because she'd been so excitable. He'd been slow and careful with her, repeatedly asking if she was ok throughout the whole thing. Taking care not to hurt her. Promising to shoulder the brunt of any punishment laid out.

"He's going to ask Dad for permission to date me." She said wistfully, "I told him that it didn't matter whether he asked for permission or not, that we'd never be allowed to date. But he was adamant. He said he wasn't going to let it come between us."

Our secrets were ours to keep. I knew that the minute Sam Kiszka crossed that street and onto our porch that they would unravel. I wanted to keep our secrets safe. It didn't matter how many punishments we endured. Jake seemed to understand this. His was a far more mature and level headed approach. Jake would have followed me anywhere, in pursuit. He would have snatched me up and taken me anywhere I pleased. But he knew better than to try to defy a man who was neither sound nor reasonable.

"I know he think's that he's doing the right thing, but he can't ask Dad to date you. It'll only make things worse." I worried, careful not to bring my own intentions into it.

Jolene's eyes moved down. Gentle disappointment laced in her heavy breath. When she looked up it was with forlorn dismay. A film of tears threatening to spill over her lashes.

"He's in my bones now, Bonnie." She sniffed. " I want my chance with him in every life time, not just this one. Don't you understand that?"

Such a romantic little thing, she was. I carried the bruises of the sexual deviances of what I'd done, but she'd known something I'd yet to know. A secret that was all hers, that I was no part of. I wondered why Jake hadn't tried to have sex with me, why her and Sam had come to it so soon? She was so eager to have everything so suddenly, part of me wondered if she hadn't instigated it herself.

It didn't really matter. Her mind was so staunchly set that I couldn't argue with it.

"Ok." I conceded. "Well, did it hurt?"

The swell of her smile was enough to keep me awake. The fissures of a giggle threatening to give way.

"A little." She replied, "I didn't know what to do at first. He laid me down and touched me, told me it was so that I'd be ready. And then he kissed me all the way down until his mouth was... you know...and then he kissed me there a little while. I don't know what came over me, I just knew that I'd let him have his way after that."

A flush of pink rushed to her cheeks. She seemed more awake than she had been a moment ago.

"And then... it was like a hot knife cutting through butter. Smooth and slow. And I could feel it sting, but only for a moment. And he asked me if I was alright, he never stopped looking into my eyes for any hint of pain. I just kept nodding, trying to keep it together. Not knowing if I should make a sound or stay silent. If I should move and let him do all of it. I just laid there for the first few minutes, taking it all in. Like even as it was happening I knew I'd recall it like a dream."

Theirs was a sweet summer love. A tender fairytale I could see a shadow lingering behind. But I didn't dare tell her. I hoped that it was stay where it was and leave them be. She deserved a summer of love.

It made me wonder what was going on in Jakes mind. The opportunity to descend into sexual madness had presented itself twice now, and twice he hadn't tried to take my virginity. I questioned whether it was a long game he was playing, or if he simply did not desire to have it.

"Did you do it with Jake?" She asked, almost as if she'd heard the reverb of my thoughts.

I couldn't lie to her. "Not all the way. With him, it's like he's playing this long game. Almost like he can't bear to take it too far too soon."

I knew she would think that I judged her. But what one brother would do wasn't always going to be what the other did. She was well suited to Sam, and yet their shared penchant for chaos was the face of that very shadow I could see behind them.

"Do you love him?" She asked, yawning and rubbing her eyes as the sun crept in.

That was something which seemed to have a more simple response. I didn't know his favourite colour or the way he liked his eggs cooked. I didn't know what songs he liked to listen to in the car on long journeys, or if he ever sang in the shower. These were things I ached to know, and resolved to know in due course. The little things. It was the biggest thing which drew me to my conclusion.

"He took a risk coming to the church last night." I replied, feeling my eyelids grow ever heavy. "For that alone, I will love him."

It felt as if I'd only closed my eyes for a moment. I was drifting from a dream that I wouldn't remember when I opened them. I could hear familiar voices rising, my name somewhere on the breeze. Perhaps I was still dreaming? Somewhere in the distance I could hear my Father's voice. His venomous sermon waking me, and I sat bolt upright in a panic that I hadn't known would come.

I had no sense of the time. The sun was beating down from the centre of the sky, my curtains rippling in the warm summer breeze as my window sat at half mast. And outside the peace of the afternoon was broken by the sound of my sister's screams.

I grabbed my robe off the hook on the back of the door and flew downstairs. The front door was wide open, so rarely was it ever left like that; I knew immediately that something was wrong.

My Mother was standing on the porch, pacing a little as she watched from her safely appointed spot in the background. My Dad was standing at the foot of the driveway, holding Jolene back as he pointed an ominous finger at Sam. He was flanked by his older brothers, who were trying to convince him to pull back. Jolene was crying. Tears streaming down her face, begging to be let go of. Trying to rip at Dad's shirt, like an animal caught in a snare trying to fight for it's life.

The moment I appeared Jake's eyes lost their focus. He let go of his brother. Bile began to rise in my throat and I shook my head, terrified that he was about to move towards me. The very motion of my head seemed to break his heart. He would have made his claim, would've fought for me. But now was not the time.

"Please, Mr. Jones. Just hear me out!" Sam pleaded, trying to reach for Jolene. "I love her, Sir. I wont hurt her, I promise!"

It was as if he couldn't feel the push and pull of his daughter who wriggled on the end of a hook that only he had the power to reel in. He barely shook against the onslaught of her efforts to break free. His eyes burning into the boy who had come to ask for his permission.

"You set foot over here again, boy, and I'll call the police. You hear me?!" He threatened, "This is my land. My daughter."

Josh was still fervently attached to Sam's shoulder.

"With all due respect, Sir, my brother is a good person. He doesn't mean any harm to your daughter." He reasoned, holding a palm up towards my Dad to signal a cease fire. "We only live across the street. Only seems natural they'd take a liking to each other."

He didn't know it, but he was kicking the hornets nest. I wanted to intervene, feeling useless as I stood there with a voice that couldn't speak and feet that wouldn't move. I felt no better than my Mother as I watched the screen door over at the Kiszka house fly open. Their sister appeared, trying to explain what was going on in violent hand gestures, as their Mother stormed across the front yard and over to where her boys were trying to avoid a scuffle.

"Marie, come and take your daughter." Dad said calmly, shoving Jolene back towards the house as my Mom scurried down the porch steps to retrieve her.

I stayed close by. I didn't know what else to do.

"Boys, get back in the house!" She demanded, pulling them apart like rubber bands. "Mr. Jones, I know you're a well respected pastor in this town but I don't like your attitude towards my family. We welcomed you in to the street, we were met with indifference. So I'd kindly ask that you don't raise your voice or your hand to my son again!"

The way she stood there, fierce and unflappable. I'd only seen her a handful of times, taking groceries into the house or tending to her flower beds around the edge of the porch. Sometimes she would sit with Mr. Kiszka on the porch of an evening. The two of them sharing a drink and watching the world go by. That sort of slow living I thought only existed in movies.

"You keep those feral mutts away from my girls." Dad argued, that terrible finger of devout judgement mere inches away from her face.

But she remained unperturbed. Josh and Jake lingered at her back, Jake not knowing whether to stay behind his Mother or come to my side. I continued to subtly shake my head every time I caught his eye.

Mrs. Kiszka, with her arms folded and her eyes wide with rage, kept her lip tucked firmly under her teeth as she weighed and measured my Father. I noticed Ben lingering by the garage door, an oily rag in his hand and the car bonnet propped up as he stared at the chaos unfolding. An onlooker, no better than I. And I hated myself for it.

"If my feral mutts go anywhere near your girls, it's because they were invited." She bit back, keeping her voice low and steady. "It only seems hospitable that we extend the invitation right back."

Such poise and grace deserved accolades. She took a few tempered steps back, raising a cheerful grin as she looked back at the house and regarded only me and my sister.

"Girls, you are more than welcome over at our house any time." She said sweetly, "You know, it's downright cruel the way you keep them cooped up like that during summer."

She gathered up her boys and began the triumphant walk back across the street. I knew the rage that simmered beneath my Father's still frame was unfathomable. He remained where he stood for a few more moments, deftly trying to fight against raising his voice or going over there to continue the fight.

I left him there. Taking Jolene from my Mother, ushering her back inside to calm herself. Utterly broken by the events that had unfolded. I looked back only once, to see Jake staring at me from his driveway.

Dad went into his office and slammed the door behind him, the sound shaking the walls of the house. I sat Jolene down at the kitchen table and made some tea, her face all pink and blotchy from the tears. I could hear the sound of lawn mowers humming outside in the distance, and Ben hammering away at something in the garage.

Like it had never happened.

But it had. And there was no going back from it. Shaken and ruined by it, I sat holding her hand. Trying to ignore our Mother as she appeared, cleaning away the dishes at the sink as if she was looking for something to occupy herself.

"You girls, you know you shouldn't get him angry like that." She dithered, almost as if she couldn't see the state in which Jolene remained in. "It's so much easier to just... not push his buttons."

"And I suppose by not pushing his buttons you mean never speak a word, stay in our rooms and be on our best behaviour at church?" I replied, urging Jolene to drink her tea.

She pushed it aside. "I don't care what anyone says, I won't be kept apart from him."

Mom dropped a glass in the sink. "Oh, Jolene... you know your Father just wants the best for you. To marry a good Christian boy from the church."

"I don't want no one but Sam!!!" She yelled, our Mother flinching back as if she'd thrown hands. "You'll never understand! Just because that's what you did, it doesn't mean that's what I have to do! Look at you, like a frightened little puppy! Scared of what he'll say if you step out of line! I'm not afraid anymore. And if you want me to stop seeing Sam, you'll have to kill me."

I didn't know it at the time, but Jolene had set in motion a course of events that would never be able to wash it's hands clean of the blood that would be spilled. I would often think back to that day in the kitchen and hear the sound of that glass shattering in the sink, our Mother's hand bleeding out under the run of the faucet. And I would wonder what might have been if she'd just kept it a secret a little while longer.

That night, I couldn't sleep. My pattern ruined from the previous night of wakefulness and the day I'd spent catching up. Unable to settle in my bones thereafter, after being woken so abruptly. Jolene had spent hours beneath her blanket, refusing to be comforted. Sobbing into her pillow until her breath had gone shallow and I could discern the waves and depth of sleep that had taken over.

I kept the window half open. The heat still bearing down, even when the sun had set. The trails of the night breeze gliding over my leg as I hitched it over my blanket and tried to distract myself with a book.

The way that Jake had looked at me was etched in every single thought I had. Barely able to eat supper at the excrutiatingly silent dinner table, unable to focus on anything but the way he'd wanted to step to me. That same tangible desire that was being screamed out of Jolene's lungs existed within mine.

Only mine was a little quieter. A little more serene. But no less bold in it's approach. I wanted him so bad I couldn't read any of the words on the page. I had to actively stop myself from going to the window to see if he was waiting there with a sign. I knew that if I did I wouldn't be able to stop myself from climbing out and going to him.

I didn't need to wonder, though. The night was so thick with atmosphere, the sound of the crickets had shrouded his movements. It wasn't until his hands curled around the window frame, pulling it open as wide as it would go, that I looked up from my book and felt my heart begin to rage within my chest.

He fell into the room, knocking over my pencil pot as he climbed over my desk. Admonishing himself as Jolene stirred a little, but did not wake. He silently placed the pencils back where they belonged and stealthily moved over to my bed.

It felt as if I hadn't seen him for days. About to whisper my fears as he placed a warm hand to my mouth and hushed me before I could utter one word.

"Ssssh now." He whispered, "You don't want to get us caught, do you?"

I shook my head with his hand still firmly planted there. His body was firm against mine, his eyes scanning my face in the low, golden glow of my bed side lamp.

"You sure do look pretty when you're all tucked up in bed like that." He said quietly, smirking as he released me. "Get dressed. Meet me out on the porch roof."

I glanced at my alarm clock. It wasn't yet midnight. I knew that if I could slip back in before sunrise, the risk would be lessened. I thought about it as I watched Jake climb back out, waiting until he was completely through the frame before yanking off my night gown and carelessly picking up the first thing I could grab out of my closet. Conscious that one creak of the floor boards could wake Jolene.

Would I even care, even if I did get caught sneaking back in? Would the consequence be worth it? I clasped my bra on, pulling the straps over my shoulders as I shimmied into a pair of white linen shorts and a blouse. I shoved my feet into a pair of sandals and knew that the regret would haunt me for the rest of my life if I didn't climb out of that window right then and there.

The sight of Jake in the summer moon, silver light illuminating his side profile as he sat on the edge of the porch roof waiting me, it was all I needed to know that I might never climb back inside the window. He was looking up at the stars, completely enchanted by the expanse of little white dots scattered across the noir. And when he noticed me, his face transformed from one of spacial wonder to one that knew it's home when it saw it.

"Do you trust me?" He asked solemnly, extending his hand for me to take as I climbed out.

He was wearing a muted purple t-shirt, ripped at the hem and paired with a pair of washed out old levi's. His hair hadn't been brushed, I could make out the knots even in the light of the moon. The wild elements of him only serving to make my heart beat faster. There wasn't anything about Jake that made me think that I was about to enjoy a peaceful evening. Everything about him had my danger receptors firing in all cylinders. And yet, I did trust him.

"Why, shouldn't I trust you?" I asked, letting him guide me down the trellis that ran down the side of the porch, his hands reaching for my waist as he helped me onto the ground.

"That very much depends." He fired back, "If your Dad intends me to bring you back without knowing how much I've fallen in love with you, then no."

His words stilled me. There under the moon, he caught me with a gentle gaze that guided me into a kiss that could have been witnessed by every eye in the whole world and I wouldn't have cared. His palm rested on my cheek, his hips angled towards mine. Heaven tasted like his tongue which gently probed into my mouth and brushed over mine, sending a rush of arousal to my beating pussy.

"What happened today shouldn't have happened." He said, keeping his forehead rested against mine. "I can't pretend that I understand why the fuck your Dad is such a narcissistic bastard. But I'll take you the fuck away from here. Just say the word. I've been working at my Dad's music store, saved up enough to get my own car. A little left over, too. We can go anywhere you want. I'll look after you, Bonnie."

I almost died inside at the sentiment. Waves of heat and flutters of excitement churned away in my stomach as he awaited my response. There wasn't a single condition to the way that I loved him. I didn't know how or why or even when I knew that it was love, the exact moment I could have hand picked from the little ones we'd shared. But I knew, beyond all conviction, that I would have followed him into the fire and brimstone of hell if that was where he was destined to go.

Jake made the dead parts of me breathe again. The parts of me that I'd long since disregarded and thought could never be resurrected. And I wanted so badly to honour that. To take his hand and let him lead me as far away from Beech Run as was humanly possible. But I couldn't leave Jolene. Not with the threat of the days events still hanging over her head. Without me, there was no guiding light for her.

"I promise." I whispered against his open mouth. "One day I will ask you to take me away from here. But not yet..."

For now, I let him take me across the street and up the gravel of his driveway. Every light in his house was out, save for the flicker of something glowing behind the half raised garage door.

"I meant what I said." He reminded me, stopping right before he would open it fully. "I'm gonna show you how much I've fallen in love with you."

"Maybe I'll show you." I countered, leaving him a little bewildered as he pushed up the garage door.

"You deserve to have beautiful memories. I really hope this is one of them."

The garage was only a small space. Littered with music paraphernalia. Multiple piles of vinyl in cardboard sleeves. A few stereo systems of varying degrees of use were dotted about. There was a drum kit right at the back and a set of guitars leaning on stands sitting on a moth eaten old carpet. On the walls there were posters, some of them lovingly placed in glass frames and others haphazardly tacked to the wall and ripped at the edges. I didn't recognise any of the faces in the images, but they looked like musicians or from movies. In the centre of the room was a couch with a pull out bed. He'd taken the liberty of making it up, surrounded with pillows and several blankets and comforters like he'd tried to build a soft little nest.

And all around the room were the dainty flickers of tea light flames. Hundreds of them, lovingly placed and ignited to fill the room with a soft glow that gave me a lump in my throat as I looked at what he had done for me. If he had wanted me to remember this, it would always stand proudly at the front of everything I did that summer.

"You did all this, for me?"

He went over to one of the stereo's and at the very top was a record player. He set the pin into the grooves, and let it begin to spin. I didn't recognise the song, but it set the mood perfectly.

"This is the least of what I'd do for you." He said, pulling me in to slow dance as I rested my head against his shoulder. "And when you finally decide to run away with me, then you'll know how far I'm willing to go."

We made out on the pull out bed for a little while. His smile as I kissed his teeth made him giggle, sharing laughter as we kissed amongst the piles of vinyl and instruments. I could have stayed like that forever, just taking in the memory of his lips and the way it felt to have his arm tucked beneath my head as he pulled me in. Sometimes his hair would fall out from behind his ear and sweep across my cheek, making me shudder at the sensation of it. And he would gallantly tuck it back, taking a moment to catch my expressions in the candle light.

"Tell me what you know about sex." He said, playing with the cord on the waist band of my shorts. "Do you ever think about it?"

I suddenly felt so very small in his arms. "Of course I think about it."

The steady beat of his heart became so erratic I could hear it in his breath. He was doing anything to distract himself, twirling the little string of fabric between his fingers and only looking at me when I hadn't said anything for a while. Like he'd been waiting for me to speak and didn't want to break the spell.

"I know enough about sex to know that I think about it." I offered, "Why do you ask?"

He couldn't look me in the eye, then. Preferring to shoot his gaze at the stereo, the clear plastic hood of the vinyl section propped up like a car bonnet as the pin skipped over to the next song.

"What I did to you in the church... and in the field the other day... I don't want you to think that it's all I want." He sounded sincere, bringing his eyes back to me after he'd finished speaking.

I could see the conflict. His desire to protect me and fuck me at odds with one another. I pulled him into another superfluous kiss. It had been enough for him to do all this for me. To lay the bed out with all the soft comforters and pillows and light all the tiny little tea candles, pick out his favourite music and making sure he said all the right words.

"But I also want you to know that I would do it all again. Over and over. Because your body does something to me that is beyond all fucking reasoning." He trailed his hand down from my throat into the valley of my breasts. "It started the first time I saw you in the window. Took every ounce of strength I had not to get too hard. And then when I saw you coming towards me down by the creek, I felt dizzy for the first time over a girl. I wanted to give you something, something that would make you feel good. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to know what you felt like. I couldn't get the thought out of my head for hours, even in the church I wanted to pull your panties all the way down. I wanted to just pull my zipper down and let it happen. But I knew that if I did, I'd regret it. You deserve to be courted sweetly. Not spanked to the edge of tolerance under God's roof..."

"I liked it." I cut him off, his fingertips pushing the edge of my blouse away from the curve of my breast. "I'm not made of porcelain, Jake. I wont break. I've been treated like I shouldn't be exposed to sex my whole life. Like it was a dirty sinful thing that would land me a one way ticket to hell. I don't care where I end up after I die. I just want to live..."

"Then we'll live." He agreed, wordlessly tugging at my clothes until he had taken them off and thrown them down by the bed.

In my underwear, I'd been conditioned to feel shame. But there was nothing but power there as Jake knelt at the foot of the bed and stared at me as if he'd unearthed buried treasure. His tongue sat the edge of his teeth, his eyes moving down from the way my hair tumbled over my breasts right down to the curve of my ankles.

"You ever seen a hard cock before?" He asked, shedding his t-shirt and unbuckling his belt. "I don't want to scare you."

I couldn't help but giggle. "I'm not afraid."

Perhaps there was a part of me that was curiously on edge. It wasn't fear, but as he began to take apart his zipper I could feel the apprehension rise. He didn't take his eyes off me. Carefully watching for my reaction as he pushed his levi's down. Beneath the fabric of his white boxer shorts I could make out the line of his cock. He gripped it tightly, giving it a little shake as he released some of the tension.

"It's not fully hard yet." He explained, "Do you want to touch it until it is?"

I swallowed thickly, the lump in my throat somehow bigger as he kicked off his jeans and scrambled up the bed to lay back down at my side.

"Show me how you like to be touched." I said, letting him guide my hand over the bulge, almost like the fabric between his flesh and mine was a slow introduction to how he liked it best.

"Just wrap your hand around it." He instructed, watching as I coiled my fingers around the shaft. "Yeah, just like that. And then squeeze it a little. And move up and down slowly."

The pulse quickened immediately. A rush of blood taking him to a solidness I hadn't expected. And it made me wet. I could feel the crotch between my thighs grow moist, and he noticed it too. Tracing the line of fabric that had darkened in colour, breathing heavily as he ghosted a feather light touch over my mound.

"I'm trying to take it slowly, but I need to have your body free of these..." He pulled on the waist of my panties, moaning softly as I continued to move my hand precisely the way he'd told me to.

"We're always trying." I mused, rolling onto my back so that he could take my underwear off. "Trying to be good. To work hard. To do what's right. Why don't people ever try to do what they want, what they need?"

"Oh, they do." He replied, peppering my breasts with kisses as he unclasped my bra and threw it down with the rest of my clothes, his body above me as I looked up at him. "They just don't talk about it."

The way he slid down my body, taking my panties with him, I couldn't bear it. " Oh...I guess that makes sense."

His head snapped up from covering my stomach in soft little kisses. His hair already knotted up and fucked.

"For instance, right now all I want to do is make love to you. But that's our little secret. Nobody else gets to ruin this for us. This is ours. Between nobody but me and you. Ok?"

I barely noticed that he'd rendered me naked. I laid there without a stitch on, his body lingering above me as I watched him move back. He was so beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes away from how his stomach moved as he breathed. The way his messed up hair sat at his shoulders. Even his thighs were making me feel like I'd never really been alive up until this moment. I'd just existed through out a series of events that had brought me here.

"You have no idea how possessed I am by you." He told me, sliding his hand down behind the waist band of his boxers as his eyes closed a little. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you bewitched me."

There was humour in his inflection, enough that it drew a breathy little giggle as he pulled out his cock. He let his boxers fall to the ground, observing me as I laid on the little nest he'd built for us.

"It's got a hold of me, too." I confessed, "Whatever this is. I'm a part of it."

It seemed to be enough that we were both entangled within this spell. He stood there gently stroking himself as I parted my legs. Letting him enjoy the view, taking in the sight as I watched him right back. He seemed to know the pattern of his own touch, letting his cock stand as he rounded a palm over his balls and left a shimmery trail at his bellybutton as his tip leaked.

"I don't want to wait anymore, Jake."

There were such things as ghosts. Not the people who had once lived and had died, but the versions of ourselves that had been and were never more. I felt like a ghost as he coveted me. My thighs welcoming his body between them and the rush of arousal that flooded every nerve ending was like lightening striking the earth.

I didn't quieten myself for Jake. For him, I did not enter a room as if I were not invited. For him I opened up, offering him my heart and my virginity; the two things perhaps the greatest gifts I had to offer him. And there was no confusion over what it meant to him. He laid down on top of me, holding his weight just enough so that I could feel his intention and taste his breath. The softness of his approach in direct contrast to the unrelenting hardness resting at the unopened door.

"Can you feel that?" He asked quietly, his lips brushing against mine. "It's all for you, Bonnie. All of it."

I knew he was mine the moment he shifted. His weight rolling down, hips dancing forward. And I was a vessel on calm seas. He didn't take his eyes from mine as he slowly entered. The tip just sitting in the tightness, stretching me out and making me wince a little. But it wasn't unbearable. I placed my hands around him, keeping him tethered. Ensuring no part of him would retreat if my expressions betrayed me.

"Ok?" He checked, moving a subdued kiss across my cheek bone, sweeping his lips across to where his whisper entered my ear. "Does it hurt?"

"Just keep going." I urged, certain that the burn and the ache would subside, "Don't stop..."

He let out the most delicious sound as he slowly continued to enter. Moaning softly, his breath warm against my cheek until he was entirely within me. And I could feel his groin rub against my thighs, soft pubic hair against my mound. And there he stayed, leaning up on forearms so that he could get a better look at me.

"I'm not going to fuck you, not yet." He explained, his palms coming to rest against my temples. "I just want to commit this feeling to memory."

I'd never felt more full. Almost like he was nearing the inside of my stomach, the pain and the sting of was worth all the misery of wondering what it would feel like. Because it simply wasn't how I could have ever imagined it.

"I love you, Jake." Was all I could fathom to say, staring up at his intense brown eyes that couldn't seem to look away from me.

He mouthed the words back to me, resting his forehead against mine, breathing a little harder as I clenched my pussy around him. The action was somewhat involuntary, as the inevitable burn began to lay waste to a feeling that was entirely new. With every flex he moaned again, and the melody of it drew a throb from me that almost demanded movement.

"So... tight..." He fought against it, keeping his cock nestled inside me, making a home for it as he buried his lips against my jaw and whispered sweet words that made me fall in love with him over and over again.

He would have stayed like that forever. And I would have kept him there for eternity. But the need and the animalistic urge to thrust was one I hadn't been prepared for. The way my body felt the rigid pull back was a delight. And the slow push back inside was delicious and my senses were spilling over with every thrust, every touch. Every breath and every kiss. Every word spoken and every soft moan. My mouth filled with his tongue, my fingers digging into the soft flesh at his waist. His cock slammed into me, fucked me and made love to me so softly at first and then when I couldn't stop myself from crying out he let himself take it a little harder, a little rougher until we were moving in unison.

"You feel so good, Bonnie." He told me, breathless between kisses, "I claim you..."

"I claim you, Jake..." I panted it, my voice coming out like a desperate whine that didn't quite sound like anything I'd ever spoken like before.

He seemed to like it. Bringing his mouth down to my hard nipples and clamping his lips around them. He sucked so gently, keeping his rhythm so perfectly I could feel my body start to vibrate. Overstimulated and ascending to the stars that he had promised me.

And yet, I had a feeling that he was nowhere near to being done with me.

To be Continued...

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@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

[racingliners]

F1 Re-Watch 2013: Round 9 - Germany

You have no idea how excited I've been to get to this race on my season watch through. Germany 2013 was Seb's first and only German GP win and frankly I'm very surprised that I'd never watched it before now.

This was also the second to last F1 race to be held at the Nürburgring (the last being the Eifel GP in 2020), and I'm ngl I likely picked it over Hockenheim to host the German GP in Life In The Fast Lane because of this race 😅

So this live blog post will likely go off the rails when the sebfucker meltdown kicks in, but for now let's jump in!

Honestly, for me this race onwards is likely going to be my favourite part of my 2013 watch through. Seb winning at home, then Lewis in Hungary, then Seb winning all the races from Belgium to Brazil. 11/10 would recommend to a friend on TripAdvisor.

Anyway, let's jump into the starting grid:

Lewis pole, he had a decent amount of them in 2013 given that fact that the car wasn't quite up to scratch (#JustLewisThings), Seb P2 🥰, Dan P6!!!!, The Ferrari's in 7th and 8th?! (??????), Jenson P9!!!! It could have been worse!!

oh it did, Jev in P16 😭

This is why I call it starting grid whiplash.

Helmet watch: Seb's helmet for this race was *chef's kiss* so good.

the metallic gold and matte black with the German flag stripe hidden in the gold. JMD Helmets superiority.

[Formation Lap]: Mediums and Softs the compounds for this race.

Apparently Lewis had a bunch of mechanical problems on his car right before the race. Good grief.

also also the giant Seb banner in the grandstand 😭😭😭😭

Cut to a very nervous looking Merc garage

[Start/Lap 1]: SEB TAKES THE LEAD AT TURN ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I LOVE F1!!!!!!!!

ngl I was that overjoyed I haven't paid much attention to the first lap, gosh I've missed that feeling of Seb taking the lead 😭

Webber went from 3rd to second, so Seb, Webber and Lewis make up the Top 3

[Lap 2]: Perez going down the inside of Jenson into turn 1

Both Lotus' are in 4th and 5th

the replay of the start >>>>>>>>

[Lap 4]: oh someone spun in the background of the shot.

ah it was Massa

the car's not moving????

it's right on the run off at turn 1 so that should be a SC

I will say watching races that happened before the introduction of the Virtual Safety Car is quite unnerving in situations like this.

[Lap 5]: Not Force India with an unsafe release, Di Resta almost drove right into Jev 😭

also wild for people to be making their first stops this early and it to be legit

[Lap 6]: oh god they're investigating the unsafe release after the race aefjeihfe clown show stewarding once again

[Lap 7]: anyway Lewis pits for his first stop, softs off for mediums. He comes out in 10th.

[Lap 8]: and in comes Seb, also softs for mediums

and he comes out ahead of Lewis!!

Red Bull did have a quicker stop, which definitely helped

and interestingly they've come out behind cars that started on the mediums, so they're going to have to do some on-track passes early on

[Lap 9]: oh shit one of the tyres came off Webber's car and hit a cameraman.

what the actual fuck

the cameraman's being tended to by Merc mechanics and FIA medical staff, thank goodness.

[Lap 10]: And Lewis gets past Raikkonen for 7th

[Lap 11]: and Seb overtakes Jenson for P3

oh god. Lewis is behind Nico Rosberg. my eye is twitching.

I know this was before 2016, but watching this after the 2016 season is... yeah... I'm having anxiety.

[Lap 12]: There's been a team radio call for Nico to let Lewis by but I'm still feeling dread at seeing them be one behind the other.

[Lap 13]: Meanwhile there's a Lotus right behind Lewis waiting for an opportunity to get past.

...oh my days Nico let him past

[Lap 14]: So Grosjean pits, Seb retakes the lead, and Romain comes out in net P2, since Jenson ahead still has to stop

oh phew Lewis is finally past Rosberg, he's in P5

Grosjean passes Jenson on track for P2

[Lap 16]: The Lotus' are so quick, may be due to the high track temps suiting them

and Rosberg is finally called into the pits

[Lap 17]: What is a polar bear (Hulkenberg in a Sauber] doing in Arlington, Texas?! (P4)

I'd guess he hasn't stopped yet????

ah, he is indeed still to stop, thank you well timed TV graphic

[Lap 18]: and in he pits, Lewis into P4

"I have no grip man, these tyres are not holding together" something Bono Lewis' tyres are gone something

[Lap 19]: Oh Alonso's in P6, though probably P5 soon given how Merc are not having good tyre wear

Meanwhile Jenson is still to stop, though I think he started on Mediums (this was the days when people wouldn't run laps in Q3 to start on a fresh set of tyres)

[Lap 21]: aw yeah Lewis v Alonso battle 🍿

the pair of them providing the in-race entertainment since 2007

(however you feel about either of them, the battles between them are always so good)

[Lap 22]: Jenson finally pits

but back to Lewis v Fernando, Lewis' defending is >>>>>>>

"I'm pushing man I'm pushing!" ajkfvbjfvbd let Lewis cook!!!

[Lap 23]: oh, Lewis is back into the pits. Merc have moved him onto the 3 stop. He's onto another set of mediums.

so he was pushing bc it was an in lap, ignore me 😅

it was still a great battle though

And there's a Marussia with a big plume of smoke.... and catching fire. oh dear.

... now it's rolling down the hill backwards.

Oh so now they bring out the Safety Car.

[Lap 25]: Seb pits for fresh mediums

as do the Lotus pair, and Alonso

...and just about every car in the field 😅

Seb is still in the lead however 🙌

So the top 10 is: Seb, Grosjean, Raikkonen, Alonso, Jenson, Hulkenberg, Lewis, Maldonado, Perez and Sutil

[Lap 26]: It feels very on brand for Seb's first/only home race win is a race that's fine for him but very chaotic for everyone else. See Germany 2019 for further chaos.

Jev had a hydraulic failure?????? WHY????? 😭😭😭

also the cameraman from the pitlane incident is fine, and Webber is still in the race, but in plum last.

[Lap 28]: random garage and pit wall shots while the SC trundles round

[Lap 29]: and SC in at the end of the lap

time for ✨Safety Car restart anxiety✨

and off Seb goes!!

phew

[Lap 30]: How are we only at half-distance, I feel like I've watched a full race with everything that's gone on

(thought that might be bc my parents are watching Quantum of Solace on the TV and I keep getting distracted, ANYWAY)

[Lap 32]: a Lotus v Lotus battle you say? 👀

meanwhile Seb is already a second ahead of P2

[Lap 34]: and now Hulkenberg v Lewis for P6

[Lap 35]: oh damn both Lotus' have managed to catch up to Seb all of a sudden

like they're in DRS range and everything

Seb's still in the lead with about a half-second gap over Grosjean, who has 6-7 tenths over Raikkonen

[Lap 36]: The Lotus' are definitely fast

okay according Ted Seb either has a brake problem or a KERS problem based on radio messages, that would explain a bit

[Lap 37]: Lewis still can't get past Hulkenberg, even though he's the quicker car

[Lap 38]: nevermind, in comes Hulkenberg to the pits

[Lap 39]: Button watch: he still needs to make his second stop

Seb's gap over Grosjean is back to being just over a second

[Lap 40]: Hulkenberg fastest lap??????

this race has been surprisingly all over the place

[Lap 42]: Seb pits for the third time, Grosjean pitted the lap before

but Seb comes out ahead! He's in 5th

So Raikkonen leads from Alonso, Jenson and Lewis.

I'm guessing they all need to stop again? Jenson def does bc he hasn't ran the softs yet

It's funny watching this knowing who wins, but not how it happens.

[Lap 44]: very fittingly given the lap number, we have a Lewis and Seb battle for P4!!

(also carrying F1's in-race entertainment since 2007)

[Lap 45]: Seb almost get's the move done round the outside of turn 1, but Lewis juuuust edges it, but Seb eventually takes P4 in the arena section

🚨15 laps left klaxon🚨

[Lap 46]: Lewis makes his 3rd and hopefully final stop

Top 5 now Raikkonen, Alonso, Jenson, Seb and Grosjean (Jenson's still to make his second stop for softs)

Starting to wonder if someone on the McLaren pit wall accidentally had a mid-race nap in the motorhome

[Lap 47]: Seb's closing up to the top 3, and he's about 15 seconds behind Raikkonen

[Lap 48]: Jenson finally pits!!! he comes out in 6th

and cut to a dancing donkey toy on the Renault engineer's desk in the Lotus garage. #JustF1Things

It's worth noting though, for anyone who hasn't seen any races from 2013, that the first half of the season was very different to the second when Seb won every race. Seb and Red Bull only won 4 races in the first half of 2013, Mercedes won 3, Ferrari won 2 and Lotus won the first race in Australia. the 2013 grid was competitive to a degree. Seb just was in bastard mode for the second half of the season.

[Lap 50]: Live Ted Reaction to Raikkonen pitting for softs, as does Alonso.

So Seb is back in the lead!! 🥳

"Stunning pace from Jenson Button" inject Lap 50 from Germany 2013 into my veins

[Lap 51]: Lewis into P7!

And Jenson overtakes Perez after stopping, he's in 5th.

Once again, like the last few laps of Silverstone, everything is happening

Raikkonen is half a second faster than Seb. shit.

ah he's on softs while Seb is on mediums. That explains a part of it.

[Lap 52]: Grosjean been given team orders to not hold Raikkonen up 😬

Maybe I need to rescind my earlier comment about Seb driving off into the distance while shit happens behind him.

[Lap 54]: Okay Seb is roughly 2 seconds ahead of Grosjean

this is way more intense than I thought it would be dbhvudbhsuh

[Lap 55]: and with the help of some team orders Raikkonen gets past Grosjean (believe it or not, he was still seen as a championship contender in this part of the season)

Now for goodness sake Seb go fast

[Lap 56]: 🚨5 laps remaining klaxon🚨

Replay of Lewis getting past Perez for P6

[Lap 57]: Cut to Alonso P4, I had somewhat forgotten about him ngl

he's just kind of been... there I guess

[Lap 58]: 1.6 seconds gap between Seb and Raikkonen, stress

Lewis is also under 4 seconds behind Jenson and catching

F1 DRAMA!

oh god Raikkonen's half a second quicker than Seb

I know that Seb wins... and yet I'm anxious

[Lap 59]: 1.2 second gap...

and Lewis is 1.9 behind Jenson

Sewis are Sewising

[Lap 60]: LAST LAP

cut to Lewis getting P5!!

and cut back to Seb who's 8 tenths ahead of Raikkonen

[Finish]: SEB WINS THE GERMAN GP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

my GOD that was stressful

BUT IT WAS WORTH IT!!!!

idk if I would have preferred a lights to flag win but gosh, Seb's radio made me all kinds of weepy 😭

also the first German driver to win the German GP, THAT'S MY BOYYYYYYY!!!!!!

and his 30th career win 🥹

rest of the top 10 were: Raikkonen, Grosjean, Alonso, Hamilton, Jenson, Webber, Perez, Rosberg & Hulkenberg

WHEW. That was a race. A bit of a slow burner, but the last 10 laps were mad. And seeing Seb win his home race is just 🥹

Next up - Hungary!

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

A/N

This is Death Note meets Black Panther. So if you like the idea of Erik as Light Yagami, you're in the right place.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

My fics have no READ MORE option because I do them all from mobile. :/ so sorry about the forever scrolls. 😫 Good thing is I'm keeping chapters to about 1500 words.

1. BEGINNINGS

Dear Journal,

I've written of much in my lifetime and now I continue this in my afterlife. But, Journal? How can I accurately describe this VAST realm where the ghost of my former self now exists? That is all I am.

I'll start with the sky for it has demanded my attention. The contrast of the deep purple and rich blue against blindingly white flashes of light make the starry sky of this ancestral plane the most majestic to behold, even greater than that of a Wakandan sunrise, and for that I am grateful. Under this realm’s sky which is so undefiled, so splendid, so divine that no mortal can look upon or stand under it without first forfeiting their very lives and human shells.. we souls of the past run free in our transcendent forms.

But are we truly free within this elaborate repetition?

When we are not running, we write. I'm sure you're beginning to understand. As ancestors, our words bind the earth realm to our own. We are accountable for recording the events in the earth as well as names.

“N'Jobu. Are you going to run?” Chika paces below on the ground, his jet black fur shining blue under the dramatic sky. Life in the ancestral plane is akin to a vivid dream that never seems to come to a point or an end. “What are you pondering so intently? Give that journal a rest, you are free, N'Jobu. You are meant to run on.. forever,” he spoke, each word echoing in my ear, a cement block sealing my monotonous fate. Is that all there is? Running?

“..I’ll remain here.”

Another omen. The curse of eternal disappointment. Chika runs, striding through the soft green grass, toward eternity. He won’t be back for a millennium and it will still be too soon in the scale of forever.

As I perch atop my branch inscribing these entries, I watch the living trapped in the sinking wheel which is humanity.

I see Wakanda entering a new era. I see impending war waged by the unjust. My claw moves on it's own, inking the names of the innocent and the young. They come everyday before their time. I cannot hold back my–is it sympathy? No, sympathy is invalidation. I’ve been removed from mortality for entirely too long to care. The thing I feel–is intrigue.

-N'Jobu

Sinking wheel aside, the human world has its interesting moments. The human mind is an interesting machine. Humans with the capacity to choose their destiny on a small scale will often cling to life for the sole purpose of defiling it. Tooth and nail, they fight to defy and delay the inevitable, still meeting the same fate they struggled against. Humans pursue the end of a certain evil only to be overcome by the specific evil they’ve created.

Humans as a whole? Predictably ordinary and violent. However, the most interesting things pertain to the actions of individuals. Individuals are the wild cards.

That's what I'd like to explore.

---------------------------------------------

Erik slid his phone from his pocket, sliding it in his line of vision as he walked briskly down the city sidewalk toward the block where his office building stood tall. Yahoo news had a few ridiculous articles, pointless in the nature. He considered putting in his earbuds to listen to his playlist until he reached his building. Or maybe he'd pick a research to dive into absorbing it for no other purpose than regurgitating it to the easily impressed. His business partner would be impressed for sure. Decisions, decisions. Clicking quickly through the internet, he stumbled on a title.

17-year-old Isaiah Mark Lewis was unarmed when he was shot after fighting with two officers who first used a stun gun on him.

Disgusting. Another senseless death at the hands of the morally corrupt, the third he'd heard of in two weeks. He hit the back button searching for something different, something lighter.

Marzeus Scott, an unarmed 35-year-old killed by police in Blytheville, Arkansas.

He exited his browser, pocketing his phone and looking ahead to the silver sky and concrete jungle which enveloped him. Black man with a bald fade and suit up ahead, 2:00. Black woman with a long skirt and blazer behind him, 6:00. He couldn't help but see clear targets on their backs as well as his own. It was an unspoken phenomenon, this fear of blackness that became the black soul's burden to carry. Like ants, black people were expected to work pointless 9-5's for CEOs that cared more for dogs and money than human life. Everyday there was the dark aura of the capitalistic, racist shoe hovering above, playing god.

His calf-skin Armani loafers hit the ground at a steady pace and the Harlequin Jacquard wool blazer he wore moved with him like a thick second skin. A police car rolled along with the traffic to his left as he kept his eyes forward.

2:00. Black man sitting on the ground. Elderly. Homeless. It was only a matter of time before he'd be chased away by some pompous authority. Erik took out a few bills folding them into his palm to quickly pass to the old man.

"I can't take this," he rasped. "I can't-- I-- Thank you so much. Thank you." He grabbed Erik's hand which held the $300 and shook it, not letting go. "Thank you so much," he repeated before Erik pulled his hand back.

Great. Now he had to wait at the crosswalk because he'd missed the break in traffic.

He checked his watch impatiently, a rose gold Patek Philippe Nautilus gifted to him by his team at 2K Security, Inc. Having fattened their pockets over the years, he was their hero. And now he was on his way back to his office for a virtual meeting with Samsung.

"Good morning, Mr. Stevens," Gloria, the receptionist perked on his arrival to the ground floor lobby. Nodding in greeting, he could feel her eyes scrolling over him but like every time before, he ignored this--stepping into one of the four large elevators which took him up smoothly to the very top where his spacious office resided.

Large floor to ceiling windows lit the white painted room naturally and his computer awaited, ON but sleep. He could practically see the seconds ticking quickly by, but luckily he was just in time for the meeting with Sandeep.

"Password and login, okay.. 2kMeetings.com. Input access code," he mumbled punching keys all to see the brown skin man with a pompadour of thick straight jet black hair staring back at him. He started the recording.

"Can I say this the best web conferencing software I've used thus far? And I've used a lot," Sandeep commented seemingly impressed. Erik wasn't surprised having been named in Forbes, but he smiled nonetheless giving humble thanks. This software was his own creation. The company overall was his baby. He nurtured it like one would nurture an actual child.

The meeting began and as it progressed, Erik had new projects to undergo, features that Samsung wanted to incorporate into their products and even into their own security and data systems. They began to talk user privacy, security VPNs, and MDMs. Soon after, it was time to disconnect and implement some of the changes discussed.

Hours later, Erik had not ceased in his work. He would not stop until he absolutely had to, it was a thing about him. When it came to his baby he was totally engrossed.

"Baby," Erik spoke into the phone catching it on the second ring when he saw the name Mika flash on the screen with a picture she'd taken and set as the icon herself. "Oh, uh--Dinner? I don't know, I've got a lotta shit to do today." He started typing a code and nearly forgot to continue his call. "Uh--Mika," he paused to type another line. "I may be late tonight."

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Something had fallen through the sky.

"Hm? Oh. What happened?--Nah, I ain't hear about that story, but I just read about two more today. They're just out here killing niggas left and right." He stood looking through one of the tall clean windows to see what had dropped from the sky. No one on the ground seemed to notice. Was he buggin? "Hm? They what? His hands were up and they shot him? With cameras recording?" He listened to his girl's angry report. She was right, they'd probably get off regardless of the evidence. She would know, she was a cop. Well, a detective.

He headed back to the elevator, cellphone in hand while his girl gave him the entire story, venting her frustration simultaneously. When he stepped onto the sidewalk outside of the building, there was no disturbance. No one seemed to be glued to the area for any particular reason. He looked in every direction including up finding a black leather bound journal on the concrete with its spine in the air. If he hadn't seen it fall from the sky, he'd have assumed some random passerby dropped it and he'd have ignored it. Picking it up, he shook and dusted it, turning it this way and that. "No. No protest." Mika was bent on being front line, but it was dangerous. She could get hurt. "You're not going," he asserted. "I understand, but I want you to be safe, okay? Hm?--Aight. I'll see you tonight. Love you," he said hanging up and pocketing the phone, both hands now gripping the worn journal. Whose was it?

The deafening whir of a siren broke through the city noise before a police car appeared from around the corner up ahead. The stories of the three recently murdered men swirled in Erik's head. With the police's extreme prejudices, the results were never favorable for those who looked like him regardless of what they wore, did, or their level of innocence and involvement. He could only imagine the violence that would come from the driver when he made it to his location. Would there be another bad report?

There he was again--anticipating the drop of the sadistic shoe overhead. An ant's mentality. As an ant, this world he was chained to was nothing but disappointment.

Tag list: @muse-of-mbaku  @goddessofthundathighs  @panthergoddessbast  @thadelightfulone  @misspooh  @marvelmaree  @youreadthatright  @forbeautyandlife  @theunsweetenedtruth  @bidibidibombaclaat  @myboyfriendgiriboy  @dameshaemonique  @blackpantherimagines    @vikkidc  @hidden-treasures21  @mysidefanting  @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat  @syndrlla97  @winteroflife  @thotyana-in-this-hoe    @texasbama  @gingerylimonte  @princessstevens    @magic-madness-heavensin  @wawakanda-btch  @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade  @wakanda-inspired  @blackgirloneshots  @thegucciwaffle  @thiccdaddy-mbaku    @purplehairgawdess  @indigoxsummers  @cccccx1    @dynastylnoire  @iamrheaspeaks  @blowmymbackout   @they-call-me-le  @theblulife  @raysunshine78  @sheisexcellent @fd-writes @soufcakmistress @ju5tp34chy

[sophiainspace]

For the dialogue prompts, I'd love to see 82 with Mick, your choice who the others involved are

82. [Rephrased] “Look at her like that one more time and I’ll make sure you’ll never look at anyone again.”

Len could tell Mick and Lisa were home before they even entered the warehouse, and he was rather wishing they’d stayed away.

“I cannot believe you!” Lisa was screaming, out in the middle of the freaking car park.

Len winced. “Safe house, Lisa,” he muttered, but it had always been useless trying to explain such things to his teenage sister, who did what she wanted - cops, other criminals and the mob be damned.

He’d been enjoying a great nature documentary, too. He sighed, pausing the video at a rather dramatic moment where a lion was about to rip into a zebra. And folded his arms, and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. There was the slam of a door, followed by a weak, “Oh come on, Lise,” which almost sounded contrite. And then the clomp-clomp of Doc Marten boots (that Len had stolen from a very expensive boutique) stomping towards him.

“Do you wanna hear what he did?” Lisa demanded, appearing in front of him.

He tilted his head. “Good morning, Lenny, how are you? Oh I’m fine, sis, thanks for asking, what about you?”

She stomped her foot like a child, the heavy heel of her boot echoing through the mostly-empty warehouse. “Do you wanna hear what he did?” she repeated, her face turning more sour by the second.

“Not really.” She scowled, and he rolled his eyes at her. “Fine. What did he do?”

She flopped dramatically down on the couch, her nineteen years perfectly embodied in her entire pose. “Ask him.”

Pretending this wasn’t stretching his patience to its limits, he called out to the guy who hadn’t bothered coming in yet. “Mick. Why does my sister have a face like a smacked ass, and what exactly was your role in this oh-so-terrible predicament that she’s dying to to tell me about but won’t?”

Mick’s face appeared in the doorway, but he didn’t stop - just kept marching straight down to the back wall, which held the cupboards where they kept the food and alcohol. Of course.

Len repressed an actual growl. “When you’ve got a minute, Mick, I need to interrogate you. Possibly with torture, depending on what you’ve done.”

Crouched down at the cupboard, pulling out packets of donuts, Mick shot back, “I ain’t done nothing. She’s just being a spoiled little shit.”

“I am not!” Lisa screamed.

Len stood up, pointing meaningfully at the broken office chair across from the couch. “Sit, Mick. Before I make you.” He annunicated every word in the latter sentence very carefully.

Seconds later, Mick was in the chair.

“Thank you. Now, what did you do that pissed Lisa off?” Len rubbed his temples. “And if you could try to tell me without screaming at each other, my head would appreciate it.”

Beside him, Lisa huffed. Mick glared at her. “I went with her to the bar like you said, right?” He kept glaring, managing to make it sarcastic. “Since she was so determined to stay out till six in the fucking morning when she ain’t even old enough to drink.”

Lisa snorted at the ceiling. “Oh right, because everything you do is so legal.”

Mick kept talking over her. “And I come back from the shitter, right, and this twenty-something fucker is hitting on her, ‘cause, I mean, look at her,” he added, indicating Lisa’s fairly impressive mostly-leather outfit and sniffing like it offended him. Len was hoping that particular argument wasn’t going to turn ugly again. He was of the opinion that Lisa could wear whatever she wanted. Mick was not. “And by the time I get back to the bar,” Mick went on, “he’s getting real handsy with her. And all I said was that the guy should get his fucking hands off my sister, and that if he looked at her like that one more time I’d make sure he never looked at anyone else ever again.”

“Ableist fucker,” Lisa added, with just a touch of glee, shrugging when Mick’s death-glare intensified.

“Not ableist!” he protested. “I didn’t say I’d discriminate against him when he was blind. Just that I was gonna make him that way.” He pouted, apparently taking the comment to heart.

Lisa sat up, scowling over crossed arms. “See?” she demanded of Len. “He’s a misogynistic bastard! He thinks I’m a child! He lost me a date!”

Len sighed hard. He made an ‘everyone calm, please’ gesture, his fingers and thumbs making zen-like circles. The other two ignored him.

Mick’s face was turning nearly as grumpy as Lisa’s. “What’s misog— That?”

“Misogynistic. Sexist. Women-hating. Crack a book, Mick - geez.”

Ouch. Len tilted his head. There were off-limits subjects in this house, and everyone knew it. The list included Lewis Snart, Len’s PTSD, and Mick’s dyslexia. Making fun of any of those things usually resulted in breakages and fires, both which Len objected to when not on schedule. “Lisa,” Len growled. “Apologise. Now.”

Lisa fiddled with a loose thread on her jacket. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay what?”

Parenting. Simultaneously the best and worst job Len had never asked for. No wonder he was shit at it. Even now, with Lisa technically an adult.

“Okay, I’m sorry, Mick,” she muttered.

Mick grunted in lieu of acceptance.

“Right. Mick, are you gonna apologise for losing Lisa a date?”

Mick’s eyes got wider at him. “You telling me you think she’s right?”

Len let his head fall back against the couch back, already so done with this. “No, Mick. I think you’re both assholes. But she might have a point that you’re an overprotective misogynist who’s way too invested in what she’s wearing and who she’s dating.”

“Hah!” Lisa said, pointing.

“And you,” Len said, turning to Lisa, whose face scrunched into a scowl again. “What was the reason I made Mick come to the bar with you, hmm? Was it that I was being an overprotective brother?”

“No,” she muttered.

“Why was it?” he pushed, patiently. Useless advice was ringing in his head from the dozen parenting books he had speed-read during those weeks of panic after Lisa had... got hurt, and Len had gained very unexpected custody.

She was once again staring up at the spots of damp on the warehouse ceiling. Her voice was quieter when she finally replied. “Because you have a lot of enemies in this town, not to mention the cops, and any one of them could decide to use me against you, at any time. And then I could get really hurt.”

Len swallowed down the bile that came with that thought. “Right. And how would that make me feel?”

“Not good,” she said quietly, glancing at him and looking away again.

They didn’t talk about it anymore. The way Len had reacted when Lewis hit Lisa, when they still lived with the bastard. The things Len had done to protect her. The times he hadn’t been able to. It didn’t mean either of them had forgotten.

“Okay,” Len said, nodding. “So, will you stop complaining if Mick occasionally overreacts while he’s trying to keep an eye on you?”

“Okay,” she echoed, her voice now very quiet. She glanced between Mick and Len. “Sorry.”

Mick grunted again.

Len coughed to break the uncomfortable silence that followed. “Thank you, Lise. Now, don’t you think it’s time you got some sleep? Sunday morning or not. I seem to recall you have a job interview tomorrow.”

A smile flickered across her face. Len fought not to smile back. He would never tell a soul how happy it made him to see that look on his sister’s face. “The van driving thing. Right.” She got up, leaning down to leave an indulgent kiss on Len’s forehead. Then, with a still-petulant look, she shrugged and popped a kiss on Mick’s cheek.

And then she literally skipped away, towards the curtained-off space that served as her bedroom.

Blinking, Len turned to Mick. “You, uh, called her... your sister?”

Mick scratched his head. “Okay, yeah. About that...”

Len laughed. He pushed himself up, heading for the chair and straddling it. “Oof,” Mick grunted in surprise, which Len ignored while he leaned in to kiss his partner.

“Ahh.” Mick breathed a contented sigh when they finally pulled apart.

“You’re a good guy, Mick Rory,” Len observed, running his hand over Mick’s shaved head. “In your own way.”

Mick grunted. “Miso...gystic.”

Len shrugged. “You can work on that.”

“Nope. I ain’t gonna change,” Mick countered, glaring.

Grinning, Len wriggled off Mick’s lap and stood, offering him a hand. As he pulled Mick up, Len said, “Of course not.”

As Len led him to their bedroom, Mick didn’t let go of his hand. “I’ll apologise to her tomorrow.”

“Steal her a leather jacket,” Len suggested. “She’ll forget in minutes.”

Mick hummed. “She was looking at this yellow flowery dress in a store window the other day. I could get her that.” His face resolved into a sour look. “Ugh. She’s gonna wear it with DM boots, ain’t she?”

Len laughed. “She ain’t gonna change either.”

“Of course not,” Mick echoed.

And then they reached the bedroom, and that was the last time they thought about Lisa for a while.

Until she started screaming at them to keep the fucking noise down because she did not need to hear her brother and his live-in boyfriend having sex, thank you.

Which rather killed the mood.

Dialogue prompts

[sachertortes]

Congrats on your milestone! Excited to follow you! I'd like to request Darcy/Bucky and who knows the number because of formatting but it's "we're always making stupid bets like 'bet you can't drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce' but then you did and now you're sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you." Extra points for any of the other Avengers that show up! Thanks for taking prompts!

@itsnotokbutwereallright  Thank you

Prompt: “we’re always making stupid bets like ‘bet you can’t drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce’ but then you did and now you’re sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you.“

Pairing: Bucky x Darcy

Rating: G

Notes: references to vomiting, description is very vague though.

The thing about Darcy was, she wasn’t ever going to save people from a burning building, or rescue an entire ferry full of passengers from alien explosives.

No, she decided to prove herself in smaller ways.

Darcy had silly contests going with the Avengers.

They didn’t mind during their off-time and she did end up feeling pretty good about herself when she could finish eating an entire Caramel Apple Pie before Steve did. (“Make a cheesecake next time,” Steve said amiably after he’d admitted defeat. “And I’ll definitely win.”)

Darcy knew that any contest with Bruce had to be handled with care. She was mulling over what to do when a she heard a tiny ‘mew’ by a trashcan outside the facility.

“Okay,” she said to a bemused Dr. Banner when she returned to the labs. “First person who the kitty chooses as their bestie wins.”

Over the next several days she made kissy noises at it, she called it ‘a pretty baby’, she tried giving it bits of cheese. Still, it did nothing but stare balefully back at her from behind the trashcan. Then one day she was headed out with a can of tuna when she saw that Bruce had beaten her to it. The small, incredibly fluffy grey tabby was rubbing itself along his leg. Bruce looked up at her and smiled.

So, Darcy lost that one technically, but she’d definitely have the image of Bruce with a kitten perched on his shoulder forever. From then on, Faraday the cat lived in Bruce’s quarters.

It was difficult to enter a contest with a billionaire genius but Pepper, once she got wind of what Darcy was up to, gave her an idea.

“I’ll give you both a shopping list, and you complete it,” Pepper told them, while driving to town.

“Alright, pumpkin,” Tony said smoothly. “Where do you want us to shop? Barney’s? Cartier? Tiffany’s?”

Darcy held back a whine. Those places were above her paygrade, literally.

But Pepper just smiled patiently, eyes twinkling. “Target,” she said, as she pulled into the parking lot. She handed them both a list. “First person to meet me back at the car with exactly everything on this list wins.”

Thirty minutes later, Darcy was sprinting through the parking lot (not exactly safe, but she was in it to win it), plastic shopping bags in each hand, to a smiling Pepper.

Tony was already there, grinning smugly at her.

Pepper checked their lists with the contents of their bags.

“Sorry, kid,” Tony told her, looking not at all sorry.

“Actually, I said ‘exactly everything on this list’,” Pepper informed him. “So while you were faster than Darcy, she has everything on the list.”

“What’d I miss??! Pens? Double-Stuf Oreos? I know I got the toilet paper, I nearly knocked down some guy to get it!”

“You’re not missing anything. In fact, you have too much. Tony,” Pepper said, reproachfully. “Why in the world did you buy ten decorative mason jars?”

“I couldn’t help it! The Target Dollar section is right there!” Tony despaired.

She was sprawled out on the common room couch, playing on her phone.

“Heard you bake pies,” came Barnes’ voice from behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to glare at him right in his rakish grin and pretty blue eyes.

“Ooh no you don’t. I am not entering anymore eating competitions with supersoldiers. That stomachache nearly killed me last time!”

He grinned. “Not a pie eatin’ contest, sweetheart. I want one.”

Darcy saw her opportunity immediately. The chance to triumph (however small and silly) over the Winter Solider? Hells yes.

“Yeah? You’ll have to bet me for it.”

“I know. I’ve heard about your little contests. When I beat you –“

“When?!”

“- at Mario Kart, I want a chocolate peanut butter pie,” Bucky said, sauntering away. He pointed a bionic index finger at her. “Don’t skimp on the peanut butter.”

“And what if I win?”

Barnes looked her up and down, and smirked. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Alright, Mario Kart! Barnes versus Lewis, let’s do this!” declared Sam, their judge. He rubbed his hands together and stated with authority, “Today’s challenge mode is…no Blue Shells.”

“Y’know…I think I want whipped cream with that pie,” Bucky said from beside her.

Darcy flexed her fingers before picking up the controller. “I am going to run you right off Rainbow Road,” she promised.

Minutes later, Darcy was cursing Bucky Barnes and his stupidly good aim with the Green Shells. She watched sadly as her Yoshi fell into the void of space.

“Aw, shit. I can’t believe a senior citizen beat you at Mario Kart,” Sam teased.

“Hey!” Bucky and Darcy exclaimed in unison.

She turned to Bucky. “Best two out of three?” she asked hopefully.

He smiled back. “Sure thing, doll.” He picked up his controller again.

“No, Barnes,” Darcy said. “I meant two out of three contests.”

When Bruce invited them to yoga, Darcy had her next idea.

“First person to fall on their asses, loses,” Darcy declared, but Bucky only laughed and agreed. They even shook on it.

They made their way through down dog, table top, and eagle pose. Darcy only barely managed to keep her eyes to herself when Bucky followed Bruce’s instructions into a side plank. There were muscles and rippling and god, when his shirt rode up she could see where his muscle dipped on his hips and continued down lower, lower to – yeah. She snapped herself out of it before she seriously hurt herself.

They were all nice and warmed up and slightly sweaty when Bruce told them face one another. Then Darcy concentrated on breathing and extending and arching her back into camel pose.

She let out a relieved moan. She spent hours sitting in uncomfortable office chairs and the stretch was so nice after a long day.

Suddenly, Bucky cleared his throat and scrambled up from the mat. “Um, I gotta…go –” he said, glancing around shiftily. He took his water bottle and picked up his towel.

“So…I win?” Darcy said, hopefully.

“Yeah. Yeah, doll, you win this one,” Bucky answered, his voice slightly rough and unsteady.

Bruce watched the door shut behind a rapidly retreating Winter Soldier. “This was a contest?”

“This looks…disgusting,” Bucky muttered. They were in his quarters (surprisingly homey, and not at all as uptight or neat-as-a-pin as she thought it would be), and between them on the kitchen counter were two tall glasses of barbecue sauce. Specifically, the Stubb’s Spicy BBQ Sauce that she brought over.

“That’s the point,” she said. “First person to finish the entire glass wins. All of it.”

Bucky shrugged. “Guess I’ve had worse.” He still gave her an uncertain look, though.

“Okayyyy…Go!”

They began to drink.

The second she brought the glass to her lips, Darcy knew it was a mistake.

First of all, there was the smell. Now, Stubb’s BBQ sauce was delicious, yes. And normally it smelled…nice. Barbecue-y. But that was when it was served with delicious meat. In a glass, on its own, the spicy/sweet/savory scent was not good.

Then, when it actually hit her tongue? The strange gloopy, syrupy texture and an entire mouthful of the sauce on its own was awful. She gulped down what she could (not much) then put down her glass.

Bucky was right. It was disgusting.

Bucky was also finished. Darcy looked at his empty glass in awe.

“Holy shit, you did it!” Her own glass still looked as full as it was before. It was an indisputable win on Bucky’s part.

“Sure did, Darce, and now you owe me a –” Bucky paused, a strange look coming over his face.

“Are you – “

“Oh, god,” Bucky grunted and strode quickly to the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

Darcy followed and was about to ask if he needed anything when the sound of his pained groan came through the door. Then came the definite sounds of someone worshipping the porcelain god. She hadn’t heard anything like that since her sophomore year of college.

Darcy winced and moved away from the door. She decided to wait for him on the couch, maybe get an apology in before he kicked her out and told on her to the Captain.

Eventually, there was the sound of water running, then Bucky emerged from the bathroom, looking pale and drawn and smelling vaguely minty.

Darcy shot up from her seat. “Oh my god, are you okay?! I’m so so sorry, I shouldn’t have made you drink that –”

But Bucky only waved his hand distractedly and stretched himself over the couch. His eyes were closed and he was still making little grumbling noises.

Darcy sighed. In the kitchen, she got a bottle of water from the fridge and dampened a kitchen towel in the sink.

She draped the cloth over Bucky’s forehead and pressed the water into his hand. He sat up and drank, one hand on his forehead keeping the towel in place.

“Don’t even like barbecue sauce,” he groused after downing about half the bottle in one go.

“What?! Then why even take the bet?!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He capped the bottle, placed it on the coffee table, then lay back down.

“Dude…”

He turned to look at her for a second before shutting his eyes again. “Because…I like spendin’ time with ya, Darce,”

“Bucky…” Darcy began.

Bucky hummed. “I like that,” he said softly. This time he was staring at her.

“Like what?”

“When you say my name. Usually you just call me ‘Barnes’.”

“Oh.” Darcy flushed and bit back a smile. “So, Bucky…if I won…”

“Didn’t agree that you won, yet, sweetheart.”

“If I won, I’d want…” Darcy trailed off and threaded her fingers through the soft strands of his hair. She smiled when he leaned against her hand. “I’d want to go on a date.” She glanced at Bucky somewhat timidly.

Bucky chuckled, eyes alight with mirth. “In that case, congratulations, Champ.”