#like girl you’re the best manager i’ve ever had but every time we order in a new product i die inside

[fingertipsmp3]

Looking at the rota app thinking well. Tomorrow is going to be fascinating

[kingdumkum]

WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up. 

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?” 

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms. 

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you. 

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely. 

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.” 

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours. 

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm. 

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you. 

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.” 

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—” 

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you—”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills. 

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you. 

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real. 

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago. 

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement. 

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.” 

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes. 

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—” 

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that? 

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face. 

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth. 

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth. 

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face. 

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway. 

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.” 

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold. 

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?” 

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist. 

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name. 

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up. 

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt. 

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?” 

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you. 

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

 The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.” 

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along. 

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.” 

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it. 

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?” 

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can. 

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot. 

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped. 

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all. 

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you. 

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

[plussizefantasia]

Eat, Sleep, and Breathe

Flufftober Day 9: Love Confession

Eddie Munson x f!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

AN: At the time that I am writing this, I have reached 100 FOLLOWERS!!! I am so incredibly grateful to all of you! I think that after Flufftober is over I'll do a belated celebration for us! if you have any ideas of something you might want to do let me know. As always, if you liked the story please reblog! I'll see you all tomorrow.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

When you and Eddie became best friends he had never expected that you’d become such an ingrained part of his life. He’d never really had a best friend before, other than Gareth, and even then, their friendship was only because of DnD.

Eddie walked into the trailer he shared with his uncle after a long day of school followed by an even longer shift at the record store and saw you making dinner in his kitchen while joking around with Wayne. 

“Poor kid couldn’t even look at a banana for a month.” Wayne chuckled and your melodious laugh followed. 

“Now that you say something, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat a banana and I’ve known him for four years.” Eddie didn’t know if he liked the idea of the two of you ganging up on him like this. But he also couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest when he saw just how well the two most important people in his life got on.

He hadn’t said anything when he had entered the trailer but you had become so finely attuned to Eddie over the years that he didn’t need to. You always seemed to just know where he was and how he was feeling. It was almost spooky sometimes when he would get a call late at night when he couldn’t sleep because you’d felt that something was wrong and wanted to check in. 

“Hey Eds, how was work?” You didn’t even turn to look at him when you asked the question. That didn’t mean that Eddie couldn’t hear the smile in your voice or that he didn’t notice the way you stood up straighter when you turned back towards the stove.

He didn’t know what you were cooking, he usually didn’t until it was on a plate in front of him. But he trusted you with his life and you had started insisting that you cook for them given that you had seen the kind of food Eddie was capable of making.

“It was good, we got the new order in and the manager seems to have taken some of my suggestions about branching out in terms of genres in the store.”

“That’s great Hon! I’m glad he trusted you, you know what you’re talking about when it comes to good music.” You never stop focusing on what's simmering on the stove and Eddie thanks whatever higher being there is that you can’t see the deep flush covering his cheeks.

“Thanks, pretty girl,” it's a whispered appreciation that flows through the air and settles into your mind like a sweet flog. Eddie has always been flirty with you, you genuinely can’t remember the last time he called you by your actual name. It was always some sweet nickname, a compliment wrapped in endearment and tied with a bow of amusement. You had drawn the line when he had jokingly called you snookums last week. Since then pretty girl has been his go and you don’t think you’d be able to deal with it if he started calling you by your name again.

Eddie moves thoughtlessly throughout the trailer, changing out of his work clothes and into the well-loved Black Sabbath shirt you had gotten him for his birthday two years ago. He never stops listening to you and what you're doing. You’re not speaking or making any noise intentionally but your unconscious little humming is the song that calls to his soul and he looks forward to hearing it every time you come over.

Eventually, he returns to the little kitchenette that's somewhat separated from the rest of the trailer by a half-wall. Your call of “dinner’s done come and get it” spurs both himself and Wayne into movement. 

Wayne takes the packed dinner that you’ve already placed into a bag for him knowing that he was taking the evening shift that night. He says nothing but the small smile on his face and the shoulder pat he gives you is proof enough that he appreciates your thoughtfulness. Eddie does too.

Seriously he has no idea what he would do without you. Without you there to lift him when he just wants to stay down. Without you there to take care of the small things, making sure he has a pencil before he needs to take a test, or that time you pulled a brand new comb out of your bag for him in the middle of lunch because he couldn’t find his. 

Overwhelmed with the sudden feeling slushing through him and tipped over by the sugar-sweet smile you give him when you place his bowl into his hands, Eddie can’t hold back anymore. “God, I love you.”

Everything freezes. Eddie wants to crawl into a hole and berate himself for the rest of his life because of his lack of filter and your whole body just kind of stops.

Eddie doesn’t know if it’s because you're trying to figure out if this is actually one of those dreams that you have where he valiantly declares his love for you and the two of you ride off into the sunset forever happy, or if this actually just happened.

It isn’t until Eddie starts stuttering out nonsensical sounds and doing his best impression of a scratched record that you break out of your stupor.

“What did you say?” your question is soft and wondering, your eyes have almost doubled in size and Eddie really wishes that he was able to tell what was going on in your head before he responded so that he didn’t dig himself into a deeper hole.

“I said I love you.” His response is equally as quiet and if you hadn’t been waiting for those exact words you don’t think you would’ve really understood them with the way he rushed them together.

It only takes three seconds for you to move in front of Eddie, and then another two to put your lips on his. However, it takes Eddie a solid six seconds to catch up with reality and eagerly begin to respond. 

His hands land on your hips and he pulls your soft body into his. Your hand grips the back of his neck and starts to play with the small curls that are hidden behind the rest of the large mass. 

The two of you enter into something close to a dance, pulling and pushing and waiting for the other person to cue you. 

Eddie wishes more than anything that he didn’t need to breathe. That he didn't need to pull away from everything that was you just for something as ridiculous as oxygen. He would breathe you, he thinks. For the rest of his life, he would eat, sleep, and breathe you if he could.

When Eddie pulls away you’re not exactly sure what to do next. You want to kiss him again, want to go in for another taste of him but you know that eventually you’d need to talk. Eventually you; 'd need to reassure Eddie that his feelings are reciprocated. That you love him too, that you have for a very long time.

But for now, standing in his kitchen, just the two of you was enough. There would be time for talking later.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Twenty Questions (Part 1)

Summary: For Y/N’s 20th birthday Haymitch gifts her 20 questions, that he has to answer honestly, no matter what. Mentions of sex/forced pregnancy. Set in the Moves & Countermoves universe.

Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!Reader

Haymitch finds Y/N at the dining room table, slapping down her present beside her half eaten lunch. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh.” Y/N reaches for the envelope, warily. More instructions from President Snow?

“It’s from me.” Haymitch huffs, pouring himself a glass of gin.

From him. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well you got me something so,” he raises his cup to her.

“Thank you, Haymitch.” He turned thirty a couple months ago and Y/N gifted her husband a rather large assortment of alcohol. Y/N opens the gift, a piece of paper with the words ‘20 questions.’

“Since you’re so interested in yours truly, this is an open invitation to ask me anything you want. Twenty times, I’ll answer honestly.” By this time next year we’ll be neck deep in diapers, or dead.

Y/N smiles, softly. “First question, why are you doing this?”

“Because I-” love you. I love you and there’s no fucking way around it. “If you’re gonna have my baby, you deserve to know me.”

“I think I know you.”

Haymitch sinks back a bit more in his chair. “You know me better than most people would ever want to, I’ll give you that.”

“Do you want to have a baby with me?”

There it is, straight for the jugular. “That’s not a question, that’s a trap.”

“Tell me why,” Y/N laughs.

“If I say no, it will upset you. If I say yes, it will upset you. I can’t win.”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about how you feel.”

“I feel like,” he takes a moment to look at her, really look at her. “If I was just some guy and you were just some girl, who hadn’t managed to piss off Snow to the point of no return. We wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“That is not an answer.”

“That’s how I would want to have a baby with you, or anybody for that matter.” Keep your emotions out of it. “If we were- It wouldn’t be dangerous for the poor kid getting brought into all this. We wouldn’t be rushed by orders to do this now, we would have time. And you could choose me…or hell, you could not choose me. Either way it would be your choice.”

“You think I wouldn’t choose you?”

Haymitch chuckles, bitterly. “Nobody in their right mind would choose me.”

“I might’ve.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re burning through these questions pretty quick, angel.” Haymitch warns, tapping at his tumbler.

“If I run out, I’ll just have to torture the answers out of you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” Haymitch calls her bluff. “Not on purpose.”

“Have I hurt you, Haymitch?”

Fuck. “Hurting you hurts me.”

“You’ve never hurt me.”

“Not on purpose.” He agrees, “but you’ve been hurt by things we had to do.”

“That’s not the same.” Y/N shakes her head.

“It is, whether you’re ready to admit that to yourself or not-”

“Is that why you threw up the first time?”

The first time, that terrible night with those damn cameras. “I threw up because of how you looked at me.”

“How did I look at you?”

“Like you wanted me to help you and I couldn’t.”

“I’d never been that close to anyone, ever. It was intimidating, but I trusted you.”

“I tried to make it good for you.”

“You did!” Y/N raises her brows, “you made me cum like four times.”

Haymitch grins, “next question.”

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Best I’ve ever had…”

“Doesn’t have to be with me.” Y/N says, holding up both hands.

“No, it was you.” He scoffs, downing his drink and pouring another.

“Which time?”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying it.”

“No, please, Haymitch,” she pouts. “Tell me.”

Being ‘just friends for now’ didn’t stop them from kissing whenever they wanted, sleeping in the same bed, or screwing every chance they had. “My birthday.”

“Oh,” Y/N purses her lips. She’d taken one of those stupid pills from the Capitol and rode him to kingdom come. “What did you like about it?”

“That you wanted me.”

“I do want you.”

“You have me.” Dammit, get a hold of yourself.

“If I have you, then you have me.” I’m yours…if you want.

Haymitch sighs, “what number are we on?”

“Like four or five.”

“Four or five?” She’s trying to pull a fast one on him. “Gotta be at least ten.”

“No, they don’t all count. We were just talking!”

“Fine, we’ll only count five. But from here on, they all count.”

“Deal.” Y/N agrees, she can still cover a lot of ground. “What is your worst fear?”

“There’s a few, like running out of liquor.”

“Of course,” she nods.

“But the worst would be losing someone I care about.” My worst fear is losing you.

“Yeah.” Y/N swallows hard, “me too.” He has spared her from losing her family, the way he did, giving up pieces of himself to do it. “Do you ever regret what you did to help me?”

“No.” No matter what happens, he doesn’t want her to end up like him. All alone…until now.

“Next one’s hard.”

“Hard to ask or answer?”

“Both.”

Haymitch narrows his eyes, “shoot.”

“How do you feel about me?” She aims to kill.

“I feel like you know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You’re my friend. Best one I’ve got for miles. You are hands down the most stubborn person I have ever met and I like that about you.” Haymitch admits.

“What is your least favorite thing about me?”

That you ripped my heart open and shoved yourself inside. “You never stay on your side of the bed.”

Part 2

[greg-montgomery]

I love - LOVE - your writing! It's such a happy and fluff space and well Aaron... yk 😁🥰

Could you possibly write some "enemies to lover" thingy. Like you get him worked up, all the time and disobey (like a possible background) but the one time it Porsche heavily you go outside and just enjoy rain and smile, maybe even start to Dance - thinking no one notices.

But Aaron does? And he joins you. Maybe even kisses you for the first time in rain?

Like pure fluff and romantic stuff?

No hurry and even when you don't want to write it - that's fine 🥰 thank you!

aaahhhh thank you <333

i hear enemies to lovers and i go crazy. also i’m so sorry i know you said pure fluff but i was literally unable not to make this angsty at first lmfao but it ends with fluff i swear!!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Enough, Agent,” Aaron’s strong voice startled you. “You have acted against my orders twice, and that’s from today alone. If you interrupt me one more time I’m going to remove you from the case.”

“I was only-”

“The last thing we need right now is your input. Please learn how to stay silent and listen every now and then.”

You closed your mouth and lowered your gaze, wishing the earth would open up and shallow you whole. It felt embarrassing to be spoken to like that, especially in front of your colleagues.

It wasn’t rare for you and your boss to fight in the middle of a case, but he had never yelled at you like that before. He had never before made you feel as if you were back in school, ready to cry because your teacher shouted at you in front of the class.

You didn’t say a word for the rest of the meeting.

--

“What the hell was that?” Rossi asked Aaron when everyone else left the room.

“She disobeyed-”

“Come on, Aaron, we’ve all done it! I’ve done it, you’ve done it. She didn’t deserve this.”

He stayed silent, a wave of guilt making his throat feel tight and dry.

“I was ready to go hug the poor girl, she seemed like she was ready to cry.”

Aaron didn’t expect his heart to react the way it did in response to David’s words. He didn’t expect the thought of even a tear from your eyes to hurt him this bad.

But Rossi had to keep going, and break his heart even further.

“And honestly, Aaron, what drives me crazy is how you’re the best profiler I know and yet you fail to realize that the girl is madly in love with you.”

--

It was a blessing that Hotch had decided to continue the case the following day, so you could all go home and rest for the night.

You were the last one in the office. Well except for him, but you weren’t sure if he ever went home in the first place so he didn’t count.

Every single member of the team had made sure to check up on you before they left, and it made you feel so loved. It was obvious how much everyone there cared about you, and it just broke your heart how you couldn’t earn the validation of the person you needed it from the most.

You walked down the stairs and as soon as you took your first step outside the building you felt a drop of rain on the tip of your nose.

Your eyes were still watery from earlier, but rain was one of your favorite things and you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling. The cold air and the drops of water falling around you made you feel alive. So instead of running to your car or going back inside until the rain stopped you decided to stay outside and enjoy it.

Looking up, you watched the stars and the few raindrops that were falling from the sky and you decided that that was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

--

Aaron saw you getting up from your desk and after fighting with himself for a few moments he decided to run after you.

If he was honest, he had expected to find you crying - but instead he found you under the rain with a smile so sweet, it made him want to cry instead.

How did he manage to be so cruel to an angel like you?

“I’m sorry, I scared you,” he said when you noticed him and your smile disappeared.

You didn’t respond to him and he started to panic, trying to come up with a way to fix things. He took off his jacket, walking closer and closer to you. He lifted his arms and used it as a shield between you and the rain.

For some reason his gesture made you laugh. “What?” he asked, confused.

“I’m already soaked, Hotch. What are you doing?” you said, giggling.

He felt embarrassed. “Right,” he said, lowering his hands again, holding his jacket in front of his stomach now. “I wasn’t thinking…I’m…I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” you asked, with a kind voice.

“Because I wanna talk to you.”

“You weren’t nervous when you yelled at me.”

“I deserved that,” he admitted. You didn’t say anything so he continued. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I feel awful about it.”

“Apology accepted,” you sighed. “And I’m sorry too. Sometimes I like to make you angry on purpose.”

“I knew that,” he said with a bland expression.

That made you laugh. And seeing you looking happy again made him completely forget the fact that his clothes were getting completely soaked already, just like yours.

“But still, that’s not an excuse,” he added.

“It’s okay. It’s just…what you think of me means a lot to me. And I hate to think that I fail you or that I don’t make you proud,” you said, softly.

“Of course you make me proud,” he was quick to reassure you. “You’re one of the best in this team and that’s why you drive me crazy when you get all impulsive and stubborn.”

You looked up at him biting the inside of your cheek so he wouldn’t see your smile. But he did. And he could tell that his praise made you feel good.

“At least wear it,” he said after a moment and offered you his jacket. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You nodded and let him place it around your shoulders. The gesture forced him to move really close to you, the tips of his shoes almost touching yours.

He couldn’t resist you anymore. He brought his hand between the two of you, with his palm facing up.

“Do you need something?” you asked.

“Yes, your hand,” he said.

You gave it to him, seemingly without a second thought, and he used it to pull you slowly against his chest. He looked into your beautiful eyes and all he could think of was the question he finally asked.

“Baby, can I kiss you?”

You didn’t answer. Instead you stood on your tip toes and pressed your lips on his.

[doomedhowell]

'tis the damn season

Title: 'tis the damn season

Words: 2,438

Genre: AU + Fluff (coffee shop + minor bakery, grumpy x sunshine)

Summary: Dan is the coffee shop regular at the shop Phil just started working at. Phil quickly learns that Dan is a bit of a Grinch who refuses to try the shops' holiday drinks, or anything new really. Phil's determined to change Dan's mind about the holiday drinks.

Written for the @phandomgiftexchange

This fic was written for @heyitskoye! I had a lot of fun writing this fic and I really hope you like what I came up with. I came up with a coffee shop au tied in with the grumpy!dan x sunshine!phil trope which I personally love, so I hope you love it too ❤️ Happy Holidays!

[READ ON AO3]

Phil’s head snaps up as soon as he hears the doorbell ding, and smiles as soon as he sees a customer walk in through the door, the first customer he’s had in twenty minutes so he’s ready to serve. “Hi there! Welcome to The Bean Counter, how may I help you today? Would you like to try our new holiday drink?”

The man lifts his head up, a frown on his face. “You’re… new?”

Phil blinks, and he slowly nods. “Yes. I just started two days ago,” he says. “So, I guess I am new.”

“What happened to the one girl? Uh… Louise?” The brown-haired man asks. “She knows my order.”

“Afraid she’s not in today. She’s actually out of town for the weekend,” Phil explains to the customer. “But, I’m sure I'll still be able to help you. What can I get for you today? I strongly recommend-”

“I don’t want to try one of your annoying holiday drinks. I just want my coffee,”

Phil huffs, feeling himself slightly annoyed by the customer, but the quicker he makes this coffee, the quicker this customer can leave. He’s not going to let this Grinch ruin his perfectly good day. “Okay. Then what kind of coffee would you like me to make?”

“I would like an Americano,” the man grumbles, and he starts pulling out his wallet.

“That will be-”

“I know how much it is,” the man says, handing Phil a five dollar bill.

Phil stares at him for a moment, before taking the bill from him, and starts to pull out the change. “So, are you always this rude to people who make your coffee?”

“Excuse me? I’m not being rude. I just don’t have time to bother with your holiday drinks, and it is way too early in the morning to be so… chipper,” the man takes the change from Phil.

“We have a holiday drink designed after the Grinch. You should try it,” Phil says. “Name?”

“Daniel,” the man grumbles, and he crosses his arms against his chest.

Phil writes the name Daniel on the cup with a sharpie, before turning around so he can finally start making the Americano. How boring, Phil can’t help but think as he makes the drink.

Phil finally gets the coffee made, and he turns around so he can hand it to the customer. “Thank you, have a wonderful evening,”

“Unlikely,” the customer mutters before turning, and walking out of the coffee shop.

“Grinch,” Phil mutters under his breath, and he shakes his head.

“I see you’ve met the ever-so kind Dan,”

Phil looks over and sees the manager, PJ, who’s just walked out from the back. “He’s a regular?”

“Comes in every morning. He orders the same thing, and as long as I’ve known him, he’s never gotten anything but his usual.. I know I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I would recommend not recommending our holiday drinks to him. He’s never bothered to try any of them and gets grumpy when you try to recommend them to him,” PJ informs Phil.

“But, I mean, how could you not love the holiday drinks? They are the best part of the holiday season!” Phil exclaims. “And I’m saying this as a customer, not as someone who works here now.”

PJ chuckles, and he nods in agreement. “I agree. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees,”

Phil huffs once more. “I’ll get him to try one of our drinks,”

“If he comes back,” PJ says, and he shakes his head. “Anyways. Are you ready for your first break?”

“Yeah, I could use a break. Thanks PJ,” Phil says, and starts untying his apron. He gives PJ a smile before turning, and heading towards the back. He walks back to the break room, and plops down on the couch. Phil frowns as he sits there for a moment, staring at nothing, pondering over the interaction he had early with the customer, Dan, his name was. “Who hates holiday drinks?” He shakes his head.

Phil goes about his day, and eventually forgets about the Grinch who hates holiday drinks. He doesn’t think about it again until the next day, when Dan comes in at the same time.

Phil looks up, and freezes slightly when he sees the familiar brown headed man come into the shop.

Dan looks up, and seems just as disappointed to see Phil as Phil is to see him. “Oh. You again?”

“I work here. Still feeling just as Grinch as you were yesterday?” Phil asks in a calm tone, and starts getting Dan’s order up, because he made sure to remember what Dan’s coffee order was previously. Americano. It’s pretty simple to remember, and pretty easy for Phil to make. “You’ll get the Americano?”

Dan blinks as he stares at Phil. “Yes?”

“Excellent, and since you already know how much it is, you can just hand me your payment,” Phil says, unable to stop himself from smirking as he sees the surprised look on Dan’s face.

Dan stares at Phil as he hands him the money, and takes the change back from Phil. “Really? You’re not going to try and force your holiday drinks on me today?”

“Well, uh… do you want me to?” Phil asks. “Because, I can recommend some to you if you’d like me to. My favorite holiday drink is currently the peppermint mocha.”

Dan makes a disgusted face. “That sounds horrific. Peppermint mocha?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, y’know?” Phil says, and he turns around to start making the drink.

Dan stands there, quietly, watching as Phil easily makes his coffee drink. He’s impressed, because this is going a lot different than it was yesterday, and Phil’s not as unbearably chipper either.

Once finished, Phil turns around, and he writes the name Dan on the cup, before handing it to him. “Hope you enjoy it. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow morning,”

“Uh yeah. Thanks,” Dan mumbles before turning and exiting the coffee shop.

Phil grins, feeling proud of himself. No, Dan didn’t try one of their holiday drinks today, but he didn’t get all completely grumpy when Phil mentioned their Peppermint Mocha, and he was only mildly disgusted. But, Phil’s still determined to get Dan’s heart to grow three times bigger.

The next time Phil sees Dan, it’s not actually at the coffee shop. Phil’s in the local mall doing some Christmas shopping. There’s only a few weeks until Christmas and Phil needs to find his family the perfect Christmas presents for when he sees them on Christmas day.

Phil’s just gotten some hot chocolate and is about to turn to exit the bakery shop he’s in, when he bumps into someone. Luckily, he doesn’t spill his hot chocolate, because that would have been more of a disaster, and Phil would have felt extremely bad if he spilled fresh hot chocolate on a stranger.

“Oh my gosh. I’m sorry!” Phil exclaims, his eyes widening in panic.

“No worries, mate,”

Phil looks over at the man he ran into, and stops when he recognizes that it’s actually Dan. “Dan?”

The man’s head instantly snaps up, and it is indeed Dan. “Oh. I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says.

Phil lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I can say the same to you. Doing some Christmas shopping?”

“Yeah, kind of. My brother needed to go Christmas shopping and asked if I wanted to tag along, and I’m just grabbing things for my family if I see anything I like, so-” Dan shrugs his shoulders, and then he notices the cup in Phil’s hand. “You got hot chocolate and not your lame holiday drinks?” Dan smirks.

Phil rolls his eyes. “They are not lame. They’re delicious. Have you ever even tried one?”

“Nope, and I don’t plan to,”

“Dan! There you are!”

Dan looks over, and a younger boy runs up to him. “Adrian, I told you I was coming to the bakery,”

“Yes, but I got lost so it took me a couple extra minutes to find you,” the boy, Adrian, pouts. Dan’s brother looks over when he notices Phil standing there. “Do you know him?”

“Kind of. He works at the coffee shop I go to regularly. I told you about him,”

“Ah yes. I remember you mentioning him before, and how he dared recommend a holiday drink to you,” Adrian says, rolling his eyes, which makes Phil chuckle. “Honestly, you’re so dramatic, Dan.”

“I’m not dramatic!” Dan exclaims, and he glares at his younger brother, before looking at Phil. “Anyways. We need to get something to eat. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow morning?”

“I’m actually off tomorrow. But, I’ll be there the next day,” Phil tells him.

“Cool,” Dan says, and he clears his throat. “I’ll see you. Adrian, come on. The line is getting long.” He tugs on Adrian’s jacket, pulling him towards the line.

“So, that’s the coffee guy you have a crush on?” Phil hears Adrian say to Dan.

“Adrian!” Dan exclaims as his eyes widen in terror.

Phil can’t help but smile to himself, and quickly exits the bakery shop. He continues his Christmas shopping, but all he can think about is how Dan thinks he’s cute? He told his brother he thinks he’s cute? Of course, Phil thinks Dan is quite attractive. He can admit that, even when he thinks Dan’s a Grinch. But, Phil would have never dreamed that someone like Dan would think he’s cute.

When Phil is at work next, he can’t help but tell Louise about running into Dan.

“His brother was there, and apparently Dan thinks I’m cute!” Phil exclaims. “His brother said it.”

“You sound like a little schoolgirl who has a crush,” Louise laughs.

“Do you know how long it’s been since a boy has shown any interest in me whatsoever?” Phil asks, pouting. “Plus, a person like Dan never likes me. We’re total opposites.”

“Well, are you going to do anything about?” Louise asks, raising her eyebrows.

“I… I don’t know. Do you think I should?” Phil asks, biting his lip nervously.

“I think you should if you think you have a chance with him,” Louise says. “I mean, it would work, Phil. You would see Dan every day. I mean, as long as you don’t let a relationship get in your way of work.”

“Of course not,” Phil says, shaking his head. They both turn their heads when they hear their door bell go off, alerting them of a customer. Phil can’t help but smile as soon as he sees that it’s Dan.

“Speak of the devil. There’s your loverboy,” Louise whispers to Phil, smirking when Phil glares at him. “Have fun.” She giggles, and then she walks away.

Phil takes a deep breath, and walks over to the cash register. “So, we meet again,”

Dan looks up. “Hi,” he says.

“Come back for your usual?” Phil asks, getting ready to put Dan’s Americano into the register.

“Actually,” Dan begins, holding his hand out, stopping Phil. “I’d like to try something new today.”

Phil lifts his head up, surprised to hear this. He’s only known Dan a few days, but he knows from what PJ and Louise have told him that Dan never wants to try anything new. “Oh?”

“How about that Peppermint Mocha you were telling me about?” Dan asks.

Phil grins. “I think that would be perfect,” he says, and rings up a Peppermint Mocha for Dan. “Great. That will be five dollars and seventy five cents.”

“I’m sorry. That much for a drink?” Dan scoffs, but he gets out his money anyways. Ah, there’s the Dan that Phil knows. “Sounds a bit ridiculous if you ask me. The things I do for cute boys.”

Phil’s cheeks instantly turn bright pink, because he knows Dan is talking about him,  at least he thinks, and then he takes the six dollars from Dan, and quickly hands him back his change. He looks up at Dan again. “I’ll have your drink ready in a few,” he says. He turns around and starts working on Dan’s drink.

Phil makes Dan’s drink silently, and then he turns around and hands him his drink. “Peppermint Mocha, I really hope you enjoy your drink,” he says.

Dan’s grip tightens around the drink as he stares at Phil. “Yeah. I guess we’ll see,” he mutters, before turning and starting to head out the coffee shop without saying another word.

“Phil,” someone hisses. Phil looks over and blinks when he sees Louise standing by the employees door, looking unamused. “What on Earth are you doing? Go ask that boy on a date!”

Phil’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Dan, who’s about to exit the shop. He quickly hurries around the counter. “Hey Dan!” He shouts, before running over to him.

Dan blinks and he looks up at Phil. “Yeah?”

“Are you doing anything this Saturday?”

“Uhm,” Dan begins, and a smile on his face. “I don’t have any plans at the moment.”

Phil smiles back at him. “Well, how about we go see a movie together? I’ll buy dinner after,”

“Well, how can I say no to an offer like that?” Dan asks, and he laughs softly. “I’ll see you Saturday then?”

“Saturday it is. Here,” Phil says, and he pulls out a notepad, and he writes down his phone number, and hands it to Dan. “Text me later with your details. We’ll work something out.”

Dan raises his eyebrows as he takes the paper from Phil. “Of course you have a notepad in your apron,”

Phil huffs. “Don’t judge me. It comes in handy!”

Dan laughs, and he shakes his head fondly. “Whatever you say, nerd. I have to get to work before my boss yells at me for being late again. Thanks for the drink. I’ll let you know if I hate it,” he says, and winks at Phil, before finally walking out of the coffee shop.

Phil stands there staring at nothing, stunned, for a moment, because he has an actual date. With an actual boy. For the first time in who knows how long. “Holy shit,” he whispers, and then his eyes widen. “What am I going to wear?” He turns around and looks at Louise with terrified eyes.

Louise cheers, clapping for Phil. “Don’t worry, Philip. Louise is here to help,”

Phil can’t help but sigh in relief, because thank God for Louise.

Just a couple hours later, Phil gets a text from an unknown number ‘I didn’t hate the drink x’

Maybe Dan isn’t so much of a Grinch as Phil thought he was.

[messedupfan]

The Last Supper

Summary: The team has their obligatory Tiktok POV party.

A/N: Hello! It's me, the problem, aka. slowest writer around. Hope it makes sense and that y'all enjoy!

Masterlist | All Chapters | All Stories Taglist

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

You crash on your bed as you and Wanda return to the room. Exhausted from over exerting yourselves time after time. Your wife tiredly joins you with a heavy sigh. “Do you think they’ll miss us if we don’t show?” Wanda asks as her head falls to gaze in your direction. You let out a light scoff. 

“Trust me, it has crossed my mind,” you close your eyes for a second and focus on your breathing. Instead of the nagging feeling that this could be your last moments with your wife. “It could be fun to bond with them over more than just the mission. I think we’ll catch a second wind when we’re all together.”

Wanda’s groans cause you to laugh. “I’ve already caught my second wind. And me third, and forth. I’m not exactly in a state of having my rest tampered with.” 

“Why is that?” You ask, sitting up and looking over at her. 

“You know how I get when I don’t get enough rest.” Wanda mumbles as she begins to slip. You laugh softly and climb off of the bed. You pull her shoes off and flash something more comfortable on her body. You tuck her in before you jump in the shower. 

Even though you could have easily cleaned yourself up with magic, saving the time and energy, you take a shower to relax. Something about the warm water is soothing as it stings your skin and clears your mind. You stop thinking about losing. You stop thinking about the Scarlet Witch. But you don’t stop thinking about your wife. You remind yourself of the wonderful years that the two of you have managed to spend together in peace. Sure, there was an argument here and there. Every couple has their moments. And you wouldn’t change a single one of them. Not even the break the two of you had before the peace. Before almost losing each other for good. When she was seeing the Simon from your universe. And you were with a girl you can hardly remember the name of now. 

As you step out, you admire your sleeping wife and recall the day you reunited. The two of you had been separated for over a year by then. She was the one to put things to an end. You kept putting yourself at risk and she couldn’t handle living with the fear of losing you for good. You aren’t invincible Y/n! She didn’t like that you would sacrifice yourself so easily without considering what you would leave behind. I love you so much it hurts! But I don’t think that’ll ever be enough for you. Just go, go be the martyr you’ve always wanted to be. You’re free from me. So she kept you at a distance. Which wasn’t always easy with getting the same assignments and having to work together on the Avengers. To make it easier, you began to focus more on teaching sorcerers at Kamar Taj to be the best warriors they could be. Something the two of you do to this day, together. 

It took her a few months to move on. Simon had always made himself available to her. And always followed the orders he was given to a T. Never did anything to risk his life or the life of others. Always looking for another way out. However, he didn’t make her laugh the way you did. He had no desire to build the family the two of you dreamt of together. And most importantly, he wasn’t you. But Wanda was committed to moving on from you. She wouldn’t become a young widow someday, left to care for children on her own because you had to be the hero. You took a little bit longer to move on. When you found out about her new relationship, part of you felt betrayed. Part of you thought maybe that was why she really left you. It made you angry and bitter and you built a wall around yourself to protect your heart. 

Then you met someone that you thought might change things for you. That relationship was doomed from the beginning because you weren’t over Wanda. Despite how often you told yourself that you were. When Wanda caught wind of the news. She wouldn’t let go. Everyone that had an ear, she would talk on and on about how annoying this other girl seemed and how she wasn’t at all your type and that the relationship was never going to work because she wasn’t right for you. She didn’t stop until one night, at dinner with Simon, he cut her off and told her that if she wanted to be with you again then he wouldn’t hold her back. She thought his outburst was absurd but she apologized and stopped talking about you. 

A couple weeks later, you were convinced to come back to the Avengers for a very important mission. There wasn’t much time to prepare, the threat was large and imminent. The two of you somehow wound up in the same area. Working as the team the two of you have always been in order to stop an enemy. You knew how to make a move without getting in her way and were good about making sure she didn’t get injured. She knew when you wanted to combine power to make a certain move with just a look. Fighting along her side again felt like a romantic dance in a way. And you knew you had to have her be yours once again. Whatever it took. 

At the end of the battle, when tensions were high and the both of you were standing near each other, lucky to be alive, you walked up to her. You put your hands on her face to kiss her but you stopped yourself. Wanda gasped having you so close to her once again. She didn’t know if she wanted this again. You closed your eyes as you began to regret your actions. As you pulled away, an apology at the tip of your tongue, she grabbed your robe to keep you there. You opened your eyes to look into hers to see where her head was at. But they were shut tightly. So you closed yours again to just feel. You leaned in a bit more to feel her lips against yours, not quite kissing her just yet. She jerked her head back and let out a sharp breath. But she didn’t fight your light grasp. She didn’t remove your hands from her. She didn’t loosen her grip on your clothing. Then she made up her mind and kissed you. Both of you pulled each other closer. 

She couldn’t stop apologizing and telling you how much she loved you as she broke down in tears. You consoled her the best you could but you were feeling quite emotional yourself that day. You move her hair out of her face now as you flash on something nice for the event tonight. You thought it was a little ridiculous to be celebrating before the fight. But you suppose another day alive was a victory itself. You conjure a little note to let Wanda know where you are when she wakes. It didn’t matter that she could have figured it out on her own. It was part of good communication. You kiss her forehead before leaving.

You arrive at the dining hall where they were setting up chairs around the tables. You stop Jean and Raven where they are and you make a couple of hand motions that set everything up for them. The tables and chairs are out, a buffet is ready to serve, a bar is ready to serve endless drinks, and there is a table full of desserts and candies. “Ah, I love magic,” you say happily. 

Raven shakes her head, “Huh, I think I like you a little bit more.” 

“Uh-oh, don’t let Carol hear that,” Jean teases. 

“Shut up,” the blonde rolls her eyes, “I have to go change. Not all of us can be ready with the wiggle of our noses.” Leaving you with Jean alone in the hall. 

“That is offensive to my kind,” you throw out there jokingly. 

Jean smiles, “What is?”

“I am the Master of the Mystical Arts. There is a lot more that goes into my transformation than just a twitch of my nose,” you scoff dramatically. 

“Is that so?” She enables.

“Yeah, it’s a wave,” you hold your hand slightly above your head, “of my hand.” As you twirl your wrist and lower your hand, your outfit changes again. This time into a ridiculous clown that makes Jean burst out laughing. “What? Is there something on my face?” You cluelessly touch your cheek, allowing the paper white makeup rub off on your comically large red glove. “Oh no! Not again!” you say and you look up to see her holding her side. “It’s not funny!” You gripe and Jean tries to get the words out to agree with you but she can’t. Then with a wiggle of your big red nose, the clown outfit poofs away and you are back in the outfit you intended to wear tonight. 

“I will be sure to correct Raven before she strikes again,” Jean says once she’s able to get her words out. “I should get ready as well,” she takes a glance around the empty space, not sure if she should leave you all by yourself. “Where’s Wanda?” 

“Taking a nap,” you answer simply. 

“I’m surprised you aren’t with her now,” Jean says. 

You laugh a little to yourself. “Oh, if I sleep now I won’t get back up.” You don’t need to be a mind reader to know the woman’s conflict. “Go on, I’m sure someone will pop in here while I entertain myself.” 

“Are you sure?” She asks to be polite but she was already making her way to the door. 

“Yes,” you confirm. Once you’re all alone, you leave the area to go over the strategies while you wait. This wasn’t a typical situation, you’ve never been given this much time to work out a strategy before going against a threat before. There usually wasn’t time to make a group plan. It was usually instinct based and following whatever something could come up with on the spot. So, you wanted to take advantage of the time. 

“I knew you’d be in here,” Thor says as he enters the room. “Come on, put that stuff down. I'm making a rule, no one can return to this room for the rest of the night. There is a pungent odor, this place needs to breathe.”

“Damnit, man. How’d you know I'd be here?” You grumble as Thor leads you out of the room. 

“In truth, I didn't. I knew someone would be in here. Trying to work. There will be no time for work. No, my friend, there will only be time for celebration. Have fun! Remind yourself what you're fighting for. All of us need to. Our freedoms, our friends, our families, our lives! All of it!” Thor boasts. Although you were slightly annoyed that you couldn’t continue working, he had a point. The work will be there tomorrow. 

Well into the night the dining hall is filled with the team. The tables that were originally shorter and arranged in sections about the room were collected and pushed together to make one long table once Thor got to the room. With a snap of your fingers, you made the seating arrangements to help out. Thor thought you took the fun out of it so you undid the magic and took a seat and watched as Thor and the Asgardian soldiers moved the chairs to the table one by one. Now, you sit with your arm around Wanda's seat as you listen to Carol deliver a ridiculous story from one of her missions. Looking around at everyone smiling and laughing, Raven appreciates the moment of peace. “I’ve got to hand it to you Thor, this was a great idea,” she compliments. 

Carol tips the neck of her bottle towards Raven, “I agree! We should do this more often.”

Logan, who had returned a few days ago along with Storm and Charles, wanting to fight to keep their home. Raven and Jean were more than happy to have them back. Lights a new cigar. “The protectors of the multiverse, celebrating their victory against the evil bi-” Charles clears his throat and Logan rolls his eyes, “witch,” he finishes.

“If we survive this hell, we should do this every year,”  Jean chimes in cynically but no one lets it affect the atmosphere. 

You feel slightly concerned about her but you don't let it show. “When,” you correct. “When we survive this hell, we'll make certain to do it.”

Thor rises onto the table and drunkenly raises his massive mug to the air. “To the protectors of the multiverse!” His voice booms in the air and everyone cheers him along as he chugs all of the contents of the glass. You refill the glass from your seat, enchanting it to be on an endless loop, and he grins as he points to you, “Now that's what magic should be used for!” 

Another round of laughter fills the room before others request for the same to be done for them. You happily oblige. When you realize Wanda is one of the few that hasn't made the request, you nudge her to offer. She loves this spell. She turns to you as if you had snapped her out of her head and you move your gaze to her hardly touched glass of wine then back to her eyes and she is caught up. “No, not tonight, love. Thank you, but,” she leans in close to whisper, “I think one of us should be sober tonight.”

“Are you sure you want to volunteer for that? You've been more tense about this mission than I have,” you offer. 

Wanda shakes her head, “I’m fine, really babe. I'm relaxed and there is such a thing as having fun while sober.” You raise your hands in surrender as you laugh. This was new to you but you weren't going to argue it any further. 

Across the table Jean is paying too much attention to you and Wanda. She begins to miss Y/n and has to separate herself from the party for a moment. For most of the people that are preoccupied with their own conversations, the exit goes unnoticed. Except for Wanda and you. 

“I wonder what's eating her up,” you frown as you keep your eyes on the newly empty seat.  

"You should go check on her." Your wife whispers softly by your side, and you turn your gaze back to her, confusion written all over your face. 

"You sure?" You whisper back, uncertain, but the brunette just offers you a reassuring smile. 

Resting her hand over yours as she says, “I am. She looks like she could use a friend and I would send Raven but,” she looks over to the shapeshifter who's adoring gaze is locked on Carol. “Besides I'm sure she'd like your company.” You nod slowly, glancing back at the door through which Jean had disappeared a few minutes ago. When you look back at Wanda again, you offer her a gentle smile. 

"I'll be right back, save me something sweet." You ask as you stand up from your chair, and the brunette lets out a low giggle, nodding her confirmation, and you kiss her lips softly before you leave the table. You look around as soon as you're in the corridor, wondering where she'd gone. But you don't have to for long, because soon you see the red hair outside, her front resting over the edge of the balcony as she watches the night sky. You make some noise with your feet so as not to startle her as you make your way over, and smile back once she flashes you a small one. 

"Hey there... Is everything alright?" You ask as you rest your forearms on the balcony rail, looking at her with a mixture of concern and curiosity. The redhead casts a tiny smile before her eyes go back to the open area of the Institute - poorly lit by the moonlight - her fingers never stopping the fidgeting with her necklace in front of her collarbone. 

"Yeah, I just... I never really liked parties." She lies, but you don't push her to speak, nodding your head in understanding instead. 

"Yeah, me neither."

"I know." She answers softly, and your eyes are drawn back to hers in surprise. But she's looking at you the same way she did when she first saw you, or when you were talking in front of the picture frames in your living room, and the moment in the green house. Looking at you as if you were the person she knew, the one she loves so dearly. And that is now gone. You can’t carry the weight of that look anymore, so you clear your throat awkwardly, and look up at the starry sky above your heads. 

"It's a beautiful night tonight."

"It is." Jean agrees just a heartbeat after, her gaze following yours. "What a shame it may be our last." She adds sadly a moment later, and you furrow your eyebrows heavily, your eyes back on her figure once again. 

"Don't say that." You request, almost demanding, but the redhead only looks at you with a resigned smile. 

"It's the truth." She shrugs her shoulders before looking back ahead. "But I'm at peace with it, honestly. It's better to go than to be left behind again. I can't lose anyone else."

"You won't." You assure her, more because seeing her cry and hearing her choke on a sob breaks your heart than because you actually believe what you're saying. 

"You don't believe that." She sees right through you, sending you a small smile, but you shake your head in denial. 

"Of course I do." You confirm the lie, but it only makes Jean let out a tearful giggle. 

"You may not be my Y/n, but I can still tell when you lie. I am a mind reader after all." You can't help but laugh at that, a weak chuckle as you shake your head in amusement. Knowing you have nothing honest to say that'll comfort her, you decide to look for a different subject instead, something to take her mind off all that for a while. And you find it in her hand.

"It's a beautiful necklace." You point at the item she's still playing with, and Jean let her eyes fall to the pendant. 

"It was a gift." She tells, smiling at the small piece lovingly. "I never take it off." Her tone is nostalgic, sad, and you don't have to think too much about it to figure out who was the one who gave it to her. You.

 "Can I see it?" You ask instead, and watch as the redhead ponders for a second before smiling and nodding in confirmation. 

It is a simple necklace, with a dark leather cord and a circular pendant attached to it by a simple metal hoop. What is most striking, however, are the infinite golden dots inside the transparent resin, which move in magical harmony, forming the figure of a majestic phoenix, its wings flapping at a slow tempo. When you take the small item in your fingers, you can't help but feel your own magic pulsating there - although much weaker than the energy coursing through your veins. 

"Very beautiful." You break the silence then, letting go of the pendant and looking at Jean again, who nods in agreement, a small smile on her lips as she looks down at the magical bird over her blouse. 

"I thought it would fade away when... Never mind." The redhead shakes her head to pull the thoughts away feeling like a broken record, and before you can think about saying anything on that matter, she is plastering a forced smile on her face. "You should go back to them, have fun."

"You're not coming?" You try with hesitation, trying to read her features, but she makes it impossible as she looks away. 

"I'm tired, I think I'm going to go to my room." She answers, and you figure it's best not to insist, nodding your head slowly in understanding. 

"I see. Goodnight, Jean." 

You offer a gentle smile to the girl, who reciprocates with an appreciative one before saying, "Goodnight, Y/n."

Figuring the redhead wanted to be left alone, you don't wait for her to retreat to her room to go back to the hall where the dinner is being held. When you get there, you see that everyone is still talking. Vision and Ghost are by the window further ahead, apparently arguing about something. At the table, surrounded by Simon, Raven and a few of the men Thor brought with him, Logan and Carol are in an arm wrestling match, and the shapeshifter disguises a smile as she watches the other blonde win the match. At the other end of the table are Storm, Thor, Charles, and Wanda in what looks to be a rather enjoyable conversation. When you see your wife getting up and heading for the drinks table, you follow her. 

"Hey, gorgeous, you come here often?" You flirt as soon as you're close enough, resting your body against the table beside her in a seductive way. Wanda - at first startled by your sudden approach - casts you an equally flirty smirk as she brings her eyes up to meet yours. 

"Not really. I'm actually from another universe." She answers with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders, taking a sip of her grape juice. 

"No way!" You say, exaggerating your surprise. "I'll let you in on my secret then..." You lean towards her to whisper. "So am I."

"Oh wow!" The brunette covers her gasp with her hand, and you hold back your amused giggle to nod your hand in confirmation. 

"I know right? Sounds like a perfect match to me." You flirt again, leaning closer, but Wanda stops your movement with a raise of her hand, an apologetic grimace on her face. 

"Sorry, I'm married." You click your tongue, feigning dissatisfaction at the sight of her wedding ring, and the cute chuckle your wife lets out has you grinning like an idiot. 

"A lucky person there." You attest with a playful tone and honesty lacing your every word, but the brunette shakes her head in disagreement. 

"I'm luckier." She argues with an ear-to-ear grin, her eyes sparkling into yours in that way that makes you fall in love with her all over again. 

"Now that's bullshit." You hit back with humor that makes her giggle. 

Before your wife can say anything else, a third voice grumbles beside you, "You guys are disgusting in every universe."

You and Wanda exchange amused giggles at the comment Carol made. But instead of answering her, the items in her hands catch your eye. "Two glasses, huh?" You point out, and the blonde looks down at her own hands. 

"One's for Raven." She says matter-of-factly, but the way you and Wanda share knowing glances makes her eyes widen. "What? I'm only being a nice person!" She tries to play it off, but her red cheeks give her away and you only laugh some more, deciding to tease her further. 

"Since when?"

"I swear, Wands, you always choose the worst people to date, in every universe." It's Carol's response, ignoring your question completely to look, amusedly, at your wife, who laughs lightly at the banter she got so used to over the years. She tries not to think about missing that too much. Just enjoying its return. So the brunette nudges her friend lightly on the side, and the blonde rolls her eyes at your offended scoff as she walks back to where Raven is. You and Wanda follow her with your gazes until a thought crosses her mind.

"Is Jean alright?" The brunette asks curiously and furrows her brows with concern the moment your good mood crumbles. 

"She's scared. It's not like I can blame her." You tell with a shrug of your shoulders, and Wanda nods slowly, looking around for a moment. 

"None of us can." She agrees not long after, and you mumble in agreement, not really knowing what to say. The two of you fall into a tense silence after that, thinking about everything that could go wrong. But Wanda doesn't let the atmosphere be heavy for long, offering you a disposable plate with a slice of cake and ice cream. "Here's your something sweet."

"That's not what I wanted." You say after you check the desserts she had saved for you, and you bite back a smile at the sight of her almost disappointed frown. "I prefer this one." As you shower her face with little kisses, the brunette's frown turns into a warm laugh, her cheeks becoming increasingly red. The kissing attack only comes to an end when Wanda's mouth finds yours, and you smile against her lips as you kiss her softly. 

And it's with that kiss that you realize how little time you have spent with your wife - with so many training sessions and strategy meetings. Your body becomes very responsive to her immediately, and before you know it, the kiss becomes hungry, your hands roughly on her waist, pulling her close. If the sigh the brunette lets out and her fingers gripping your hair are any indication, she feels the exact same way.

"We should join the others." Wanda breaks the kiss to ask, her breathing was labored as your own. 

"Why?" You ask almost on autopilot, your brain too foggy by the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. 

"Because it's either that or I'll drag you to our bedroom." Your wife whispers for only you to hear, making your skin tingle everywhere. 

"I don't see a single problem with that." It's your teasing response, a smirk on your lips as you approach them to hers once again. Her hand comes up to your chest as a smile of her own grows on her mouth. But, instead of pulling you closer, she pushes you away. 

"Table. Now." It's her only warning before she sidesteps you, and you let out a short giggle, spinning on your heels to follow your gorgeous wife back to the table, where some of your teammates are. The term makes you hesitate on your tracks for a second. Teammates. You barely know these people, but it feels like the urgency of the threat you're facing together is enough to bring anyone closer. You try not to think too much about the fear of losing any of them as you sit by Wanda's side at the table.

The rest of the night, hazy memories are made with each other. Some break out into song, others dance foolishly on top of a table, more games are created with bets that upset the losers and boost the egos of the winners. By the end of it, around four in the morning, Wanda is helping you back to the room. She tucks you in the bed and whispers that she loves you after she is snuggled into your side. She kisses your cheek and falls asleep to the sound of your heart beat. Hoping that she gets to sleep to the sound again tomorrow night.

The Necklace

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @evenbeingcrazy1998 @olsensnpm @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife

[artyandink]

we can be more | dean winchester | 9

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

CROSSROAD BLUES

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :  CROSSROAD BLUES - ROBERT JOHNSON

“Hey, jellybean.” Dad smiled into the camera, sharpening his knife. “This hunt is pretty dangerous, I’ll have to admit. These vamps are beating the hell out of me.” 

“Hey, Mick!” A hunter yelled. “Are you talkin’ to your daughter again?” 

“Oh, come on, Ed, you’d do the same if you had one.” Dad retorted. “It’s a shame that no girl’s ever looked your way, huh?” He turned back toward the camera. “Y’know, I’d give anything to be home with you. I’ve been such a bad father these past few years. I missed your graduation. Your orientation day in Princeton too. You didn’t even go to prom because you wanted to see me come back from a hunt but I didn’t until a few weeks later. I think…” His voice broke off. 

There were happy shouts in the background, but Dad didn’t seem so happy. 

“I think that the last time I’ll ever see you is this picture I keep in my pocket.” He pulled it out, taking a look. “I keep you with me every day. I love you so much, jellybean, but I don’t think I’m comin’ back. I know I promised, I know, but I don’t think I am. I trained you to keep yourself safe. Keep your mother safe. And Lils, and Carter too, because if I don’t come back then I don’t know what sorta things will come after your blood and I know they will, so please, be safe. You’re a Rainer, Ivonne, don’t ever forget that. I love you more than life itself, sweetheart. Don’t come looking for me. I’m sorry.” 

I gasped once I saw the video message, immediately searching for my phone. I dialled my mom frantically, holding the phone to my ear. 

“Please, please…” I muttered, pacing and trying to keep tears from falling. 

‘Honey?’ My mum answered. ‘What’s wrong?’ 

“Mom, Dad’s in trouble. He sent me a message saying that this could be the last he sees me, but I…“

‘Did he tell you where he was?’ 

“No, he just told me not to look-“ 

‘Then don’t. He’s said it for a reason. The term’s almost over, wait for another message and if not, come straight home, ok?’ She cut the call, and I collapsed on my bed, hyperventilating. 

What if I never see him again? 

I can’t do any of this without him.

“So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database.” Sam sighed, checking the police database and showing us the mugshots of Dean. 

“Dude. It’s like I’m Dillinger or somethin’.” Dean grinned excitedly. 

“Mhmm.” I nodded. “You’re a wanted criminal in the FBI’s database, which is a huge drawback cause we travel everywhere, and you’re rejoicing. But hey, at least they got your good angles.” 

“Well, what do they got on you two?” 

“Nothing on me, cause James managed to clear me of all charges.” 

“You’re lucky your police boy could help out.” 

“Well, I caused no evident law breaking, so they can’t press.” 

“What about Sammy?” 

“I’m sure they haven’t posted it yet.” Sam muttered. 

“What? No accessory, no nothing?” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re jealous.” Dean laughed. 

“No, I’m not!” Sam protested, giving Dean a look. 

“As if someone would be jealous of being wanted for murder, breaking and entering, escape and grave desecration.” I scoffed. 

“What do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young woman, you?” Dean grinned, so I looked at the case file. 

“Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed.” 

“Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?” 

“Two days before.”

”And did he actually say ‘black dog’?” 

“Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog.” Sam nodded. “The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive.” 

“Do you think we’re dealing with an actual black dog?” 

“Maybe.” 

“What’s the lore on it?” 

“It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but... some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty.” 

“Well, it could be a death omen.” I suggested. “Spectral black dogs never attack without reason. We could be dealing with a Grim sort of thing. Like, you know, Harry Potter.” 

“You have… the Grim.” Dean mimicked, making us all laugh. 

“So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?” Sam asked. We were interviewing his business partner. 

“That's right. Now one more time, this is for...?” 

“A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest.” The man laughed, drawing a weird look from us. “This funny to you?” 

“No, it... it's just, a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind... well, he gets another tribute.” 

“Right.” Sam nodded. “Any reason why he would do such a thing?” 

“I, I have no clue, I mean he lived a charmed life.” 

“How so?” 

“He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I... and it wasn't always that way, either.” 

“No?” I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms. 

“You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive.”

”What changed?”

”You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing... he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart...” He trailed off. 

“What?” 

“It's funny. True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why... why just throw it away?”

“So…” Sam drummed on the glove box. “Dean.”

”What about Dean?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

”You two care for each other a lot.”

“That’s natural.” 

“A lot.” 

“What are you implying?”

”That you and my brother could be a… a thing… someday.” 

“Keep dreaming.” I laughed. “Dean and I have a good thing goin’. Plus, he flirts with every girl his age he sets his eyes on.” 

“If you say so.” Sam grinned, nudging me. “In the meantime, you can flirt with James Rhodes. Keep your options open-“ 

“Shut up.” We started giggling, but then Dean came back.

”So?” 

“Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real.” Dean grinned. 

“Spare the details of your latest hookup, Dean.” I sighed. “What did you get on the black dogs?” 

“Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all. And, uh,” He pulled off a post-it note from his clipboard, “I don't know what this thing is.” I took it and raised an eyebrow, handing it to Sam. 

“I have no idea what this is.”

“You mean Carly’s MySpace address?” Sam chuckled. 

“Yeah, MySpace, what the hell is that?” Dean frowned. “Is that some dating site or somethin’?” 

We had been round most houses, but they were just cases of barking Pomeranians. Naturally, Deans as starting to get mad. 

“I swear, if this is another freakin' Pomeranian barking in the neighbour’s yard...” He knocked on the next door, and a lady opened it, looking nervous.

”Afternoon, ma’am.” I flashed my badge. “Animal control.” 

“Oh, someone already came yesterday.” She blinked, and we shared a look. 

“Oh, we're just following up.” Sam excused. “We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?” 

“The Doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago.” 

“Ok. And you are..?” 

“Ms Pearlman’s maid.” She stammered. 

“So where did the Doctor go?” 

“I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?” 

“Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?” I asked, feigning concern.

“Well, no. I never even heard it.” Dean looked at a photo, analysing it. The maid continued nervously, “I was almost starting to think the Doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so...” 

“Hey, you know I read she was, uh chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty two, forty three? That's pretty young for that job.” Dean  probed casually. 

“Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?” 

“Ten years?” I raised an eyebrow. “An overnight success, too.”

“Yeah, we know a guy like that.” Dean nodded, gesturing to the painting. “And, look, Lloyd’s bar.” 

We pulled up at Lloyd’s bar, and outside there were yellow flowers growing around the door. I pulled out my pocket botany guide, flicking through it. 

“Yellow flowers?” Dean scoffed. “Wanna pick ‘em, Beanie?” 

“Not just any yellow flowers.” I replied, reading the page I’d found. “Yarrow flowers. They’re used in summoning rituals. Someone planted them here.” 

“So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's.” 

“Where there just happens to be a crossroads.” Sam frowned. “You think?” 

“Let’s find out.” We went to the crossroads, taking a shovel and digging in the dead centre. We eventually hit something solid, and we shared a look. “Yahtzee.” I pulled out a box, opening it and checking the contents. 

“Graveyard dirt, black cat bone, all hardcore and unmistakeable methods to summon a demon.” I informed, tapping the side of the vial of graveyard dirt. 

“That’s serious hoodoo.” 

“No, not just to summon one.” I shook my head. “Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good. These people aren’t seeing just spectral black dogs. These are hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls that guard hell’s gates and drag anyone who belongs there in if they’ve sold their soul or belong there.” You can bring people back by summoning demons. Bring anyone back.

‘Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting.”  Sam sighed. 

“And that doctor lady?” Dean grimaced. “Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough.” 

“So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?” 

“Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music. You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's, there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail?” Dean rolled his eyes when Sam didn’t follow. “The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs.” 

“And now it’s happening all over again.” 

“We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here.” I resolved, dusting off my hands. 

“Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal.” Dean frowned. 

“They’re human. We can’t leave them to die.” 

“Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?” 

“Dean.” 

“Fine.” He conceded. “Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing, let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive.” 

I was preparing for a big gymnastics tournament, stretching and testing my flexibility for the big moment. This could be my one chance to get to the Olympics. 

“Why so nervous, jellybean?” Dad was at the door, holding my bottle of water. 

“If I don’t get this, I don’t get the Olympics.” I sighed, taking the bottle. “Thanks.” 

“No problem, sweetheart.” He patted my shoulder with a smile. “You’re gonna be fine.” 

“How are you so sure?” 

“Because you’re Ivonne Rainer.” He smiled, bending to my height. “You’re the toughest girl I know. You take after your mother. She used to hunt, but after she had you she stopped. But I’ve never seen a lady like her until you grew up. You can load and shoot a gun faster than I can, so flying across that room should be child’s play to you.” He kissed my forehead, clasping our hands together. “So, who are you?” 

“I’m a Rainer.” 

“Who are you?!” 

“I’m a Rainer!” 

“I can’t hear you, solider! WHO ARE YOU?!” 

“I’M A RAINER!” He hugged me tight, patting my back. 

“Knock ‘em dead, tiger.”

We walked up the stairs in an apartment building, looking at a picture. 

“What's this guy's name again?” Sam asked. 

“George Darrow.” Dean informed. “Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. Though this house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?” 

“Yeah.” I nodded. “So whatever kind of deal he made-“

”Wasn't for cash. Oh, who knows. Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis.” We gave him a look, “No, I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun.” 

“Look at that.” Sam pointed at a black powder outside Darrow’s door, and I recognised it from somewhere. I touched it, staring at it. 

“Is that pepper?” Dean scoffed. 

“I… don’t know.” I frowned. 

“Who the hell are you?” Darrow grumbled, the door swinging open. 

“George Darrow?” Dean asked. 

“I’m not buyin’ anything.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker there. Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt.” 

“I don't know what you talkin' about.” 

“I’m talkin’ about this.” Dean held up a picture of a hellhound. “You seen this yet?” 

“Look. We want to help. Please. Just five minutes.” Sam begged. He let us in wordlessly, and we stepped in, cautious not to disturb the black line. “So what is that stuff out front?” I blew on the black dust, and then I got it.

“Goofer dust.” Darrow and I said at the same time, but Sam and Dean stared at us.

“What, you boys think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust? Girl gets it.” Darrow lectured gruffly, tossing Dean a brown sack.

“Well, we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous.” Dean replied casually. 

“What is it?” Sam asked. 

“Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons.“ He waddled over to a chair. “Four minutes left.” 

“Mr. Darrow. We know you're in trouble.” 

“Trouble that you got yourself into.” Dean sniffed. 

“But there’s still hope, alright? There's gotta be something we can do.” 

“Listen. I get that you boys want to help.” Darrow sighed. “But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one called that demon in the first place.” 

“What d’you do it for?” I asked, gaining a stunned look. “You heard me. Why did you do it?”

“I was weak. I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just... I just never thought about the price.” 

“Was it worth it?” 

“Hell no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame. I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst.” 

“Go on.” 

“Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?” 

“George, how many other people are there? Like you?”

“Uh, the architect, that doctor lady — I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous.” 

“Think, George.” 

“One more. Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for.” 

“No.” Sam refused, “No, there’s gotta be a way.” 

“You don't get it! I don't want a way!” 

“Look-“

”I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time. Okay, boys. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help.” 

“We can’t just-“ 

“Get out! I have work to do.” 

“You don't really want to die.” 

“I don’t?” He scoffed. “I’m… I’m tired.” 

“C’mon, Sam.” I gently took Sam away. “Thank you for your time, sir. It was good meeting you.”

“You too, girlie.”

We knocked on Evan Hudson’s door, and he opened it a small bit. 

“Yes?” He whispered. 

“Evan Hudson?” Sam asked. 

“You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago.” Dean added, but then Evan slammed the door. “Come on, we're not demons!” I focused, forgetting about the rune etched into my arm, and my eyes momentarily glowed blue, but then I felt a searing pain in my arm and stopped, falling back against the wall. “Beanie! What happened?” 

“I’m fine, I just tried to use my…” I gestured to my forearm and he understood. “Got any bright ideas?” Dean reared up, then went to kick the door open, but I opened it just by pushing the handle down. Dean collapsed in a crumpled heap, and Sam helped him up with a smirk. “Evan?” 

“Don’t hurt me!” Evan whimpered, jumping out from behind a bookshelf. 

“You know, if we were demons, that’s a terrible thing to do.” I sighed. “We’re here to help, not hurt you. We know about that deal with the demon 10 years ago.” 

“What? How?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Sam said. “All that matters is how we stop it.” 

“How do I know you're not lying?” 

Dean shrugged. “Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy.” 

Evan started pacing. “Can you stop it?” 

“Don’t know.” Sam frowned. “But we’ll try.” 

“I don't want to die.” 

“Of course you don’t, not now.” Dean smirked. 

“Dean, stop.” Sam hissed. 

“What did you ask for, Evan?” I asked intently, stepping forward. 

“My wife.” Evan gulped. 

Dean scoffed. “Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for.” 

Sam glared at Dean, who, I’ll admit, was getting out of hand. “Stop, Dean.”

”No. He's right, I made the deal.” Evan nodded. “Nobody twisted my arm, that... woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but... I don't know how to— I was desperate.” 

“Desperate?” 

“Julie was dying.” 

“You did it to save her?” Dean frowned. 

“She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying... a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot.” 

“Did you ever think about her?” 

“I did this for her.” 

“You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel-“ 

“Will all of you just shut up already?!” I burst out, silencing everyone. “We’ll figure something out. Evan, keep a close watch, grab anything pure iron in your house and have it as a weapon. Boys, we need to figure this out.” Evan rushed to find something iron, while Sam, Dean and I talked. “Dean, are you ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” Dean shrugged. “Hey, I got an idea.”

”What is it?” 

“You throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon.” 

“Summon-“ Sam scoffed, “are you nuts?!” 

“Maybe a little. But Beanie and I can trap it. We can exorcise it, and can buy us time to figure out something more permanent.” 

“But how much time are we talkin’?” I asked, folding my arms. 

“I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine.” 

“No. No way.” Sam refused. 

“You’re not allowed to say no, Sammy, unless you’ve got a better plan.” 

“Dean, you can forget it, all right? I'm not letting you summon that demon.” 

“Why?” Dean challenged. “Why not?” 

“Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why.” 

“We don’t have time for this-“ 

“Dad. You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it too.” 

“It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul-”

“That’s enough.” I interrupted through gritted teeth. “Neither of your heads are in the right place at the right time and it’s frustrating because you’re meant to be here and now, not stuck in a decision that John made. Dean, you feel guilty about it and I get that feeling more than anything, and Sam, you want to keep everyone as safe as possible, but, right now, we need both of these things,” I tapped my head, “to be clear so we can actually pull off a plan. Sam, take the goofer dust and make a circle around you and Evan. Once it breaks, book it. Dean, you and I are going to summon the demon. Once we get it in the Solomon trap, I’ll exorcise it. We good with that?” 

“Yeah.” They nodded meekly. 

“I think I hear it! It's outside!” Evan called from inside. 

I turned to them both, taking out my book of exorcisms. “Keep Evan alive, Sam.” 

Sam frowned. “Ivy-“ 

“Just do it!” 

Dean placed his ID in George’s hoodoo box, burying it in the centre of the crossroad. I was in hiding, having already painted the Solomon trap. 

“So. What brings a guy like you to a place like this?” The crossroads demon was behind Dean as he stood up. He looked her up and down, and I studied the Latin I needed to read. “You called me?”

”I’m just glad it worked.” Dean smirked. 

“First time?” 

“You could say that.” 

“Oh, come on now. Don't sell yourself short. I know all about you, Dean Winchester.” She started circling him, almost like a panther prowling around its prey. The irony was satisfying, really. 

“So, you know about me.” 

“I get the newsletter.” 

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What have you heard?” I know you’re stalling, but, really, Dean?

”Well, I heard you were handsome, but ... you're just edible.” I gagged from where I was hiding. Who says that? “What can I do for you, Dean?” 

“Maybe we should do this in my car. Nice and private.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

“So I was hoping we could strike a deal.” Dean offered as they strolled to his car,

“That’s what I do.” The demon smirked. 

“I want Evan Hudson released from his contract.” 

“Oh, sorry, darling. That’s non-negotiable.” 

“I'll make it worth your while.” 

“Really? What are you offering?” 

“Me.” WHAT THE HELL-

“I see. Sacrificing your life for someone else’s. Like father, like son, I guess. “You did know about your dad's deal, right?” She chuckled darkly, giving him innocent eyes, but I knew they weren’t as advertised. “His life for yours? Oh, I didn't make the deal myself, but... boy, I wish I had.” 

Dean opened the car door, teeth gritted. “After you.” 

“Such a gentleman.” She was about to get in, but stopped upon seeing an inscription poke out from under the car. “A Devil's Trap? You've got to be kidding me. You stupid, stupid... I should rip you limb from limb.“ 

“Take your best shot.” Dean retorted almost pleadingly, backing towards the actual trap. 

“No. I don't think so. I'm not going to put you out of your misery.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because your misery's the whole point. It's too much fun to watch. Knowing how your daddy died for you, how he sold his soul. I mean, that's gotta hurt. It's all you ever think about. You wake up and your first thought is, ‘I can't do this anymore.’” Keep with it, Dean. “You're all lit up with pain. I mean, you loved him so much. And it's all your fault. You blew it, Dean! I could have given you what you need.” 

“What-“ 

“You’re not the only one who feels this way. Imagine Ivy Rainer, forced to live the life her dear brother was meant to. You can make a deal on behalf of her, not Evan Hudson. Now those are terms I can negotiate. Your Beanie can be happy, Dean. Have her family back, and she can be whole.” I gasped silently, glancing towards where the box was buried.

“What do I need?” 

“Your father. I could have brought him back. Your loss. Seeya, Dean. I wish you a nice long life.” She started to walk away-

“Hold on.” She stopped, smiling. 

“You're lucky I've got a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces. I just can't leave you like this. Besides. You didn't call me here to bargain for Evan. Not really.” 

“Can you bring him back? My dad?” He asked. 

“Of course I can. Just as he was. Your dad would live a long and natural life, like he was meant to. That's a promise.” 

“What about me?” 

“I could give you ten years. Ten long good years with him. That's a lifetime. The family can be together again. John, Dean, Sammy. The Winchester boys all reunited.“ She walked towards him. “Look. Your dad's supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead. So we'll just set things straight, put things back in their natural order. And you get ten extra years on top. That's a bonus.” 

Dean turned and walked further away. “You think you could...” He turned to face her, “throw in a set of steak knives?”

She advanced towards him, ”You know, this smart-ass self-defense mechanism of yours...” She stopped, noticing that she was in a Solomon trap. “Dean!” 

“Now you’re trapped.” Dean grinned. “That’s gotta hurt. Beanie, you can come out now.” I emerged, holding my book. 

“Let me out. Now.” She hissed.

“In a bit. Thanks for the consideration, but if I wanted to make the deal, I’d have done it.” I smirk. “Alright, here’s our terms, because before you walk free, we need to make a deal. Evan walks free, and you call off your hellhounds. Do that, and you walk too.” 

“I can't break a binding contract.” 

“There’s a difference between ‘can’t’ and ‘don’t want to’; it’ll do you a favour to learn it.” I retorted. “Last chance. Evan and his wife get to live to a ripe old age. Going, going...” 

“Let’s talk about this-“ 

“Ok, gone.” I pulled out a rosary, and she glanced at it. 

“What-what are you doing?” 

“You’re just going on a trip.” Dean grinned. “Way down south.” 

“Forget Evan. Think of your dad. Both of your dads-“ 

“Regna terrae,” I read, pacing around her. “cantate deo…” I continued reading, watching her shiver and cry out in pain. “in potentis magnife!” 

“Release!” She cried, and Dean and I shared a triumphant look. But then she cupped the nape of Dean’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. I looked away, shutting my book with a snap as he pulled away. 

“What was that for?” Dean spat. 

“Sealing the deal.” 

“I usually like to be warned before I’m violated with demon lips.” 

“Evan Hudson is free. He and his wife will live long lives.” 

“How do we know you’re not lying?” 

“My word is my bond.” 

“Oh, really?” I handed Dean the Latin book and the rosary.

“It is when I make a deal. It's the rules. You got what you wanted. Now let me go.” Dean fiddled with the rosary, contemplating it. “You're gonna double-cross me? Funny how I'm the trustworthy one.” She scoffed. “You know, you renege? Send me to hell? Sooner or later I'm gonna climb out, and skinning Evan Hudson will be the first thing that I do.” Dean stashed the rosary, breaking the circle. She stepped out, giving us a look. “I gotta tell you. You would have never pulled that stunt if you knew.” 

“Knew what?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“About your dads. You should have made that deal. See, people talk about hell, but it's just a word. It doesn't even come close to describing the real thing-“

“Shut your mouth.” 

“If you could see your poor daddy? Hear the sounds he makes 'cause he can't even scream?” She sneered to Dean. 

He advanced on her. “How about I send you back there?” He growled. She screamed, ichor pouring out of her mouth and flying into the distance. The lady fell, and we caught her, but she looked terrified. 

“What... how did I get here?” 

“You take care of her.” I sighed. “I’ll bury the box where no one will find it.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” He nodded, and started to help the girl away. I looked at the box, digging it up and pocketing Dean’s ID. Then I took out my own, putting it in the box and burying it in the centre of the crossroads. 

“You called?” I turned, seeing a male crossroads demon this time, wearing a suit. He had brown hair and clever blue eyes, and he walked up to me. “Oh, I know you. Ivonne Rainer. You’re a celebrity back where I come from.” 

“Glad to know.” I retorted. “I want to get back to Sam and Dean before they get suspicious, so let’s get this over with.” 

“Damn, you’re more of a sexy woman than you were put out to be.” He smirked, looking me up and down. “If I was human, well, I’d have asked you out. Anyway, what can I do for you?” 

“Bring my father back to life. Bottom line. No reviving his corpse, actual, healed, human.” 

“I can do that.” He nodded. “Really simple.” 

“Good. How many years do you want from me, then?” 

“No years.” He glanced down at my neck. “I want that necklace.” 

“Why?” 

“You don’t need the burden of how many years you have left, you have enough of a weight on your back already.” I thought about it. “Necklace or no necklace?” 

I took it off and gave it to him, sighing. “Ok, now kiss me, but make it short and sweet.” 

“That takes the fun out of it, but ok.” He kissed me for a millisecond, then winked. “It was fun doing business with you.” He then disappeared, and I walked away, confused. 

My necklace?

I had made dinner for the boys, who were eagerly eating it with cups of cocoa by their plates. I sipped one myself, munching on the food. 

“This is the best pasta I’ve ever had, Beanie, dear God.” Dean praised through a mouthful of food. “This is heavenly.” 

“This is amazing, Ivy.” Sam grinned, sipping his cocoa. Then the doorbell rang, and I stood up, going over to the door while preparing to reach my gun from behind my back, tucked in a holster above the waistband of my shorts. I opened the door, and my heart almost dropped out of my chest. 

“Jellybean?” My dad stood there, ruffled hair and all, looking just like the last video he sent me eight years ago. He cupped my cheeks, looking at me with tears in his eyes. His index touched the gap between my eyebrow, complete with a scar in it. “That’s your scar. And your freckles. Yeah, it’s you. It’s really you. But you’re all grown up…” He laughed, wiping a tear off my cheek. 

“Dad…” I whispered, throwing my arms around his torso. “You’re here, you’re really here.” He hugged me tightly, smoothing down my hair. Sam and Dean came into the hallway, staring at Dad like they’d seen a ghost. I detached myself, hurriedly drying my tears.

”Who’re these two, jellybean?” Dad asked, looking confused. 

“O-Oh, uh… Mr R-Rainer.” Dean stammered. “We didn’t expect to see you here. At all.” 

“Come in, sir, make yourself at home.” Sam gulped, giving me a look. “Ivy, we need to talk.”

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[house-of-slayterr]

The Gangs All Here:

Tag: @oceansrose2002 @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @myers-meadow-selfship @queer-and-utter-chaos

Blinky’s POV:

I sadly bid goodbye to Tommy, but promised I’d come visit soon. His mother made it clear I was welcome anytime, despite her original hostility. And I told Monty I’d attempt to fix the wall next time and bring my good supplies. I had pretty much zoned out the whole day, my autism being particularly annoying today. Every little thing was making my skin crawl and my head pound. But I was trying my best to remain calm and in control.

Macy pulled up to our usual spot and parked.

“Wanna get some lunch before we head back to your place?”

I nodded. She frowned, lifting my chin with her finger.

“You feeling ok pretty girl?”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen when I walk through that door Macy. I ran away, yes I told them I was going but still, I was a coward, I left.”

“I’m sure they won’t hold that against ya puddin’ how could anyone stay mad at you?”

She missed my nose and I giggled.

“Want me to go in with you?”

My eyes widened as I looked at her.

“It’s not like I don’t know.”

“I know that you know. But they don’t- know… you know, you know?”

“You’re cute when you don’t think before you speak.” She jeered.

I rolled my eyes.

“I just, I don’t want them to freak out. What if someone tries to hurt you? That would kill me inside.”

“You’re worried about me getting hurt? May I remind you I beat Thomas in our little wrestling contest last night?”

“Yeah you did” I smiled dreamily.

“There’s that smile I love so much! Come on let’s get you some proper food, I’m buying.”

Macy was too tall to put her arm on my shoulder, so she just put it on my head and I playfully glared up at her. I don’t know how she does it. Macy isn’t the happiest of people, at least not on the outside. Most people would probably find her scary or intimidating. Yet she always managed to make me smile, from that first day we met all those months ago.

Miss G greeted Macy and I Happily. As we sat in our spot she set down our coffees, leaving the pot at the table.

“You know you two are my favourite right?” She said.

Macy smiled at her. “Your boss makes the only edible food in this town” Macy joked, “it’s good to see you again.”

“You two deary, you know what you want to order yet? I know this one wants a pastry.” She laughed.

“Yes please!”

“Give us a moment to think, take your time with the other customers.”

Miss G gave us a kind smile and left us to look at the menus.

“Ugh, why can’t that woman be my mother.” Macy quipped.

“I know right. But Luda ain’t all that bad. She’ll get better.” I said, placing my hand in hers.

“I’ve never seen her yell at Hoyt like that before Blinky, I think you starred a wildfire.” She laughed.

“Good, your family needed to get in gear. I swear y’all didn’t say two words to each other that weren’t about me. Do you guys even talk?” I asked.

“Just me and Tommy. Nobody wants to hear what Hoyt or Monty have to say. And Ma, she has her kind moments but we mostly just stick to ourselves. I don’t mind it that much, means I don’t have anyone up my ass when I disappear from time to time.”

“And where would you be right now, if you weren’t with me?” I asked, curious.

“The Glenwood Cemetery in Huston. The place is huge! Everytime I go I read a few new graves and I like to think about the lives they may have had. Oldest grave I’ve found so far was 1871.”

I smiled fondly. Macy had strange interests but I always let her talk about them. I loved hearing her voice when she was happy. It had this little hum, when her tongue moves to fast and hit the top of her mouth. It sounded like little bees in my ears. She had the slightest lisp that she tried really hard to hide, but I thought it added to her charm.

My voice whistled too, ever since I lost that tooth. Sometimes my tongue would poke out from behind it and make a weird little sound. We looked over the menu, I knew it was really important to her that I ate something “healthy” so I put a pause on the could so I could focus. But that didn’t last long when I caught her staring.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Nothing,”

I squinted my eyes at her.

“Did you know you stick your tongue out when your focused?” She asked smugly.

“Pftt, I dont-“ I looked down, “oh. What’s that doing there?” I said.

She laughed airily, loud enough that some of the other patrons looked out way. But Macy was not one to be shy. Sure, she was stand offish, but that was because she didn’t like people. But she was never shy.

“I don’t know how you do it Blink, but I swear you get cuter each day.”

I blushed heavily.

“Hush, I’m trying to focus.”

She held her hands up in mock surrender. Seemingly she already knew what she was going to order.

“What about this? That’s got protein right?”

I pointed to it on her menu.

“A Falafel burger, sure, tons. You sure you’re up for trying it?”

“Mmm, it’s been a good day. I think I can handle a new food.”

“You two ready?”

“Umm yes, can we have one Falafel burger, fries on a different plate please. And I’ll take two of your lunch burritos and a salad for us to split.”

“You kids are hungry today, coming right up. Oh, Blinky the pastry of the day is apple fritters.” She addressed me.

“Apples!” I said, my eyes glowing.

She leaned in to whisper.

“I’ll put a few aside for you in a take out box.”

“You’re the best!” I smiled.

“Anything else to drink? Or just coffee today?”

I turned to Macy, “milkshake?” She grinned wide, “a strawberry milkshake with two straws please.”

“Coming right up. I’ll put extra whipped cream and a Cherry for each of you.”

“You’re a god send.” Macy complimented.

The woman blushed and hurried off to the kitchen.

“You’re only getting a milkshake cause you’ve been so good today. I’m proud of you for how you handled my family. They’re enough to drive anyone crazy”

I pouted.

“I’m always good.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Sure you are Blink, you’re like a little hurricane that sneaks up on people.”

I frowned.

“Oh come on Blink. You know you can’t have all this sugar all the time. You said you were studying medicine, you should know this.”

“Yeah yeah, so it could thicken my heart muscles. Fine, I’ll cut back on my sugar.”

“Wait really, that’s what happens?”

“Mmm, it increases your insulin and it has nowhere else to go.” I shrugged.

“And you still eat the way that you do? Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Not before you, no. And I didn’t have much of a choice. America is stupid, the things that are the worst for you are the cheapest and most readily available. I could buy a watermelon for $3.50 or I could get two boxes of cereal that will feed me for a week.”

“You mean for breakfast right?”

“Breakfast, lunch, dinner… it doesn’t matter, I used to ration one meal a day so I’m not really used to this whole, normal diet thing.”

Macy cringed.

“God Blinky, no wonder you’re so tiny. Your body never had anything to help it grow. The foods not going anywhere ok? You can eat as much as you want.”

“I know that, it’s just hard I guess. Old habits right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, tell me more about this cemetery.” I tried to pivot the conversation on me.

I knew she wouldn’t judge, but I didn’t like conversations focused on my flaws. It made me uneasy.

“Oh my god, you would love it there. It’s so quiet and the grounds keeper is really nice. There’s actually this crypt there a family and build in the early 1900s. They’re son had been missing for years and they thought he was dead, then he just showed up out of nowhere with no memories. Since he was alive, it never got used. He lets me go in there and write sometimes.”

“Wow, that does sound nice. Maybe I could read some of you writing sometime.”

“You gonna show me that drawing you did of me?”

“Eventually…”

“Then you have your answer.”

I rolled my eyes. Touché. The food came and Macy looked likes she had never seen food in her entire life. It was always funny to me how she could eat like there wasn’t enough food in the world. Miss G set the milkshake in the middle of the table.

“You two let me know if you need anything else.”

“Of course, thank you!” I said politely.

I stared at my food for a second, dissecting it with my eyes. Macy has already taken a bit out of one of her burritos. But she waited until her mouth wasn’t full to speak again. She slid some silverware across the table to me.

“Take off the top bun, it will be easier to cut.” She said.

I took the silverware and followed her instructions. I cut it into 6 neat pieces. And separated them on my plate.

“Ketchup?” I asked.

“Try a bite first.” She answered.

I nodded, slowly bringing the food to my mouth. The texture wasn’t what I was expecting, but it wasn’t bad. The flavour was nice, and I smiled into the bite. She looked at me expectantly and I gave her a thumbs up.

“Ketchup.” I concluded.

She let out a little snort from her nose, which made me scrunch mine in return. It was a adorable. I ate about half of it before I reached for the milkshake. It was much better. It was sweet, and cold and it felt nice on my tongue. Macy had mostly been drinking her coffee, and I had a sneaking suspicion she was trying to save most of it for me.

“You can have some you know, we did order to share.”

“You first.” She said.

“You know full well I’ll drink this whole thing by myself if you don’t stop me.” I teased.

“Ok, sassy. Fine I’ll have some.”

She moved the cup between us and sipped from her straw. It was like one of those classic scenes from those 50s movies. To top it off, she scooped up some whipped cream in her finger and put it on my nose. I pulled back, alarmed.

“You did not just-“

“I did, what are you gonna do about it?”

I took a French fry and threw it at her head, but she caught it in her mouth. I glared at her and she just laughed.

“Face it Blinky, you’re even sweeter than this milkshake.” She said.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I know.”

I moved my plate out of the way, and stabbed my fork into the salad. We got it with no dressing cause I hate dressing. It made the veggies also soggy. Gross. The crispy cucumbers were my favourite part. I was surprised to see Macy was already onto her second burrito. I think it had eggs and meat and cheese, I looked at it in disgust. I didn’t mean to show it on my face, but sometimes I couldn’t help it. Macy rolled her eyes.

“You enjoying the salad.”

“Very fresh.” I said.

She took a break from her monstrosity of a lunch to eat some of the salad with me. I had no idea how she wasn’t full already. I sipped my coffee, the contrast between it and the Milkshake were a little jarring. But it wasn’t bad. The caffeine would help. I’d been sober for almost a week now, and I wasn’t feeling the best. But Macy didn’t need to know about that. I recently learned her middle name was Josephine cause Tommy’s sign name for her was MJ.

He made mine “cute” but signed with a B for my name. How could I argue against it when he himself looked cute signing it. I didn’t want to break his heart, so I gladly excepted the name. It was easier than spelling out Blinky. Tiny’s name already had a sign, so he didn’t need a special one. Miss G came back and she down one pasty for each of us, while sliding the take out box into my backpack with a wink. I smiled at her as she was called away to help someone else.

“Hey M?”

“Yes?” She asked.

“What if I- no it’s stupid.”

“Nothing you can say is stupid Blinky. I say the same thing to Tommy all the time. You both need to be a little more confident.” She said.

“What if I worked here?” I asked.

“Here? It’s not that far from your house I don’t think. Not that I’ve been there yet.” She put emphasis on the last part, “it’s a bit of a walk though isn’t it?” She pointed out.

I hummed.

“But you’d look cute in the uniform.” She smirked.

Of course that’s what she would focus on. The only think more ferocious then her appetite, was her sex drive. And I had unknowingly unleashed that can of worms. Oops.

“I’d have to ask of course. But like, beats working at the gas station. And it’s small enough that even full it wouldn’t be too loud, not that it ever gets too full.”

“Can you handle a job?” She cringed, “I’m sorry that came out wrong.”

“No, no it’s fine. I’ve had plenty before. I think my family will be more lenient on chores if I’m bringing in more money. Plus there’s tips. Only tip we get at the gas station is a middle finger.” I laughed.

“Then go for it. I could come visit you at work.” She smiled.

“And you wouldn’t have to worry so much about me when you’re back home. Now we know they have something healthy I can eat.”

“That is very true.”

When we finished our meal I only had two pieces of my burger left, but I didn’t think it would heat up well. I looked at Macy.

“It’s ok little bug, you did good. I’m proud of you.”

I smiled, glad I was able to please her. I was surprised when she put a whole $20 on the table for tip. I raised a brow at her.

“Made some extra fixing up an old bike and a few days before you called. I’ve got some cash to spend, and she deserves it.”

“Don’t leave it on the table, sticky fingers around here.” I suggested.

We walked up to the counter and slid the money to Miss G.

“Aww thank you cuties, you didn’t half to.”

“Please for all you do for us, I did have a question though.”

“Shoot kid!”

“Are you guys hiring? I’d have to ask my dad but-“

“I would love to have you working here, you’d bring some smiles to this place. Let me go get the paperwork and you can think on it.”

“Thank you.”

We waited by the counter for a second, but that’s when a three boys walked in. Roughly around our age, maybe a little older than me. But they were the rowdy type, that much was evident from the laughter disturbing the peace. I tensed slightly but Macy rubbed her hand up my arm.

The came beside us to sit at the counter, and started hollering for some service. I rolled my eyes.

“Ain’t anybody working here or is it self service?” On of them called.

I grit my teeth, if I was gonna work here I’d have to deal with idiots like this. But they were no worse than the gas station idiots. But when she came back out to hand me my papers and one of the boys said something under his breath, o was beyond irritated. She didn’t deserve that.

“When you’re done serving that fine piece of ass over there, could you help a brother out?” One of the older looking boys said.

I saw his eyes on Macy and I was shaking. She wasn’t very pleased about it either. I said my thank you to Miss G and gave her a look of pity as she walked over to them. What I wasn’t expecting was for one of them to come over while his friends were order.

“You from around here sweetheart?” He asked Macy.

She rolled her eyes turning around.

“No, but my girlfriend is” she put emphasis on the girlfriend part.

I smiled smuggly.

“Why looking for something to do, afraid there’s not much. Why dont you and you’re friend check out Captain Spaulding’s Museum of Monsters and Madmen, if you’re up for a good scare.”

Macy gave me a look, recognising all the months ago when I told her to stay far away. She grinned.

“Yeah, if you’re man enough.” Macy teased him.

“Oh I’m man enough, we’ll check it out for sure. You two hotties gonna be there”

“You bet!” I sent a fake wink. “See you around handsome.”

Macy and I burst out laughing when we got outside.

“So do I finally get to see your Gruncle’s cabinet of curiosities?”

“We wouldn’t miss that for the world.” I grinned.

They deserved it for being rude or Miss G, and Ogling my girls ass.

“You ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be I guess. Don’t take it to personally if they don’t like you at first. Otis hates everyone.”

She chuckled, “sounds a lot like Hoyt”

I froze, turning to look at her.

“He is nothing like that man.” I said coldly, I hadn’t meant to.

And I know she didn’t mean to insult him. But Otis was nothing like that Vile man Macy shared blood ties with.

“Sorry, that was meant to be a joke. Won’t happen again.”

“No, I’m- I’m sorry Macy I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m just a little on edge right now.”

“Blinky you don’t have to apologise for having emotions. You love your dad, and I love that you do.”

I smiled at her, getting onto her bike as usual as we rode back to the house. As we pulled up, I’m sure it was loud enough in the house no one had heard us. I grabbed Macy’s hand and lead her to the garden.

“Where are we going?”

“I gotta check on something first.” I said.

I dragged her around the side of the house, and sure enough there was some fresh dirt. We both stopped and looked down at it.

“Is that?”

“My mother, yeah. Rest in pieces I guess.”

Macy snorted and flipped off the pile of dirt. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

“Good, good to know that part of my life is over. I never want to think about her again if I can help it.”

I knelt down and started picking some of the lilies I’d planted a while ago.

“What are you doing Blink?” Macy asked curiously.

I held the flowers up to her.

“Gives these to Mama, than at the very least she’ll like you. If Mama likes you, no one is gonna dare disobey her. Not unless they got hit over the head a few to many times, so maybe don’t talk to RJ.” I joked, “that was a joke btw.”

“You’re cute.”

“So you keep saying.”

“It’s true though. And I’ll keep saying it because it makes you blush every time.”

“You’re evil, you know that woman? Total scum bag.” I said.

“Mmm, and do evil women get a kiss from their partner?” She mused.

“I don’t know, are you gonna be nice when we go inside?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Then I’ll think about it.”

She rolled her eyes, setting the flowers down on the ledge near the house and picked me up, spinning me around. I couldn’t help but giggle, and when she finally stopped she pulled me in to a kiss. I melted into it, feeling all the stress leave my body.

“I’ll behave” she whispered, leaning down so her forehead was on mine.

“And I’ll protect you if anyone tries anything.”

“Aww, my little guard dog.”

I glared up at her.

“Come on, let’s get inside. I’m sure they’re worried about you. I would be too if you suddenly disappeared for 5 days.”

I cringed. Yeah not my best move. But I was glad none the less that Otis let me leave. It was nice to be away from the house for a while. I didn’t need to knock cause I had the house key. I pushed the door open and was immediately greeted by the chaotic sounds of my family. Baby was blasting music in the living room, I could hear Mama and Spaulding chatting in the kitchen, and I have no idea what the hell the others were doing at the back of the house but I could hear it from here.

I grabbed Macy’s hand and dragged her into the kitchen. Spaulding was the first to look up. One thing about him, he never forgot a face.

“Don’t I know you?” He addressed Macy.

“We met a whole back, at that farmers market. Blinky here sold me some of your chicken. Which was really good by the way.”

Smart move, Spaulding loved compliments. Especially about his cooking. He, Mama and Otis cooked the most in the house. Manon specialised more in dinner, and Selena sometimes helped with the prep work.

“These are for you Mrs. Firefly.” Macy held out the flowers and Mama gladly took them.

“Oh how sweet, we’re glad to have you Back Blinky. Why don’t you introduce us to your friend here?”

Mama was always hospitable. Which is why I went to her first.

“Mama, Cap, this is actually my girlfriend. Macy. I stayed with her while I was away.”

“Girlfriend?” Spaulding asked amused.

“Mhhhm, she knows about us.” I clarified so they wouldn’t have to lecturing about keeping someone around being dangerous. “She would never tell anyone.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes sir. My family participated in a similar… hobby.” She explained.

Sure saying you’re a killer is one thing, but I don’t blame her for not wanting to tell them right away.

“When did this happen?” Mama asked, ushering us both to sit.

“Since the Framers Market.”

“All that time and you kept ‘er a secret? Not sure how Otis is gonna feel about this.” Spaulding worried.

“That’s why I came to you both first.”

“You staying for dinner sweetheart?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Of course Sugar, why don’t you go introduce her to the others. Make yourself at home little miss Macy.”

“Thank you Mrs. Firefly.”

“Please call me Mama.”

I gave Mama a quick hug, and kissed Spaulding on the top of his head.

“Can we talk later?” I asked.

“Sure kid, you know where to find me.”

Macy followed me into the living room where I turned down Baby’s music. Not off, just down a little. My head felt like it was buzzing from all the electric guitars. Baby turned to look at me, but her eyes quickly met Macy’s.

“Who’d ya bring for us Blink?” She asked.

I chuckled.

“She’s not for that, Baby, this is my girlfriend, Macy. Macy this is my- aunt? I don’t know we never really defined that.” I laughed awkwardly.

“Aunt, sister, all the same to me. Love this kid no matter what.” She said, holding her hand out to shake Macy’s.

“Can’t say I blame ya, they’re easy to love aren’t they?”

Baby smiled wildly, already approving of the new company.

“We miss ya Blink, it was no fun without ya.” Baby said, wrapping me in a tight hug.

“I’m sure you managed just fine, looks like you were having plenty fun before I interrupted.”

“Mhhhm, RJ got me a new CD!”

“What is he Santa Claus now? Why the sudden interest in gifts?” She shrugged. “You know where the others are?”

“Umm, Ghostie and RJ are watching a movie in his room. And Doe Eyes and Otis-“

“Doe Eyes and Otis what?” I asked suspiciously.

“They’re busy. I’ll let him know you’re home and he’ll come find you later yeah?”

“Alright…”

I squinted my eyes suspiciously.

“She staying for dinenr?”

“Your Ma said I could, that cool with you?”

“Totally cool! You’ll have to tell me where you got the jacket Macy!”

Before they could chat more I was dragging her upstairs to my room, and Baby was blasting her music again. I didn’t want to bother RJ, and there was something suspicious about Baby not telling me what my dad was up to. But we’d see everyone down at dinner so there was no rush. I closed the door and threw myself face down onto the bed, groaning into my pillow.

“I’d say it’s going pretty well Bumble Bee, you had nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not those three I’m worried about?” I said, looking up at her.

“I live with Hoyt, I can handle anything they throw at me. Promise.”

“Pinky?” I asked.

She held out her pinky and locked it with mine, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You feeling ok Darlin’ you’re getting a little shaky there.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m cool… cool cool.”

“That sounds like something someone who is not cool would say.”

I sighed, crawling across my bed to lay my head on her lap.

“Why did she have to come here?” I asked.

Macy looked down at me, playing with one of my bouncy curls.

“I don’t know Blink.” She said sadly.

“It’s like everything was going good, great even. I was happy. So fucking happy!” I said.

“Did you just say fuck?” She raised a brow at me amused.

“Oh, right!” I said popping up and shoving a few bills in my sweat jar, “gotta pay up for what I said to Hoyt too. Even if he did deserve it.”

Macy chuckled.

“You say that like someone’s making you have the swear jar Blinky. Swearing ain’t that bad, I do it all the fucking time.” She smiled.

“Yeah yeah. I know there’s ways you can do it that aren’t mean, I just, I don’t like they way it sounds coming out of my mouth. Besides, a few more slip ups and I can get you something nice.” I smiled.

“You swearing on purpose to get something pretty for your girlfriend?” She asked.

“I’m just being lazy on purpose, the swearing is still an accident.” I laughed.

“I’m sorry your mom tried to ruin this for you, that wasn’t very nice of her.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

I sat back down on the bed next to her.

“Hey Macy?”

“Yes Blinky?”

I know she sometimes got amused when I said her name, even though we were already in the middle of the conversation. But I couldn’t help it. I liked the way her name felt on my tongue. Short and sweet, the exact opposite of her.

“Do you smoke? Like, smoke smoke?” I asked.

She seemed a little taken aback, but smiled anyway.

“I have before yes… why?”

“Do you want to?” I asked.

Now she was grinning from ear to ear.

“Why you got some?” I nodded.

“Honestly don’t think I can go back down there without it. Everything’s too much right now.”

She ran her hand along my arms again.

“Oh, and we should tell Spaulding that he’ll have some special guest at his showing after dinner tonight. Sure if you ask nicely he’ll let you help.” I said.

“You just wanna see me in action.” She mused.

“I will neither confirm or deny” I said, as I reached over in my drawer where some of my pre rolled joints were.

I made some mini ones, just to tell calm my mind on a regular basis. I didn’t want to be high everyday, but my sensory issues were not getting easier and it was the only thing that seemed to help. But I found a regular sized one jammed in the back. I grabbed a lighter from my nightstand and crawled back over to wear Macy sat. She laid down on her back, and I put my head on her stomach, laying perpendicular to her.

“Your family lets you smoke?”

“They know I do sometimes. Baby smokes too. Doe Eyes and Otis have regular cigs if you want one. I could snag a few for you.”

“My little thief” she ruffled my hair.

I was going to need to be actually stoned to survive family dinner. My nerves where getting the better of me. I mean I knew she was dead, we saw the evidence. So why did I still feel so heavy? So lost? Why the hell was I so scared? I didn’t notice tears start to slip until Macy’s big hands were on my face.

“Hey little bug, talk to me.”

I shook my head. Words were suddenly very hard.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe.” She reassured me.

I gave her a pity smile. She reached over, grabbing the joint from my hand and lit it, holding it out to me. I weakly took a puff and laid back down, screwing my eyes shut. She took a hit herself, I couldn’t blame her if she was a little nervous. Anyone would be meeting my family. I know she tried to play strong and tough, but she was human like the rest of us.

She let my hair and held it out for me again. After a little while had passed and half the joint was gone, she spoke again.

“Feeling any better?”

I gave her a slow nod, signing a little.

“Are you non verbal right now Blinky?” She asked.

I was ashamed to say it, and I knew she’d figure it out eventually even if I didn’t tell her. I wasn’t very good about hiding what was wrong with me. And I didn’t want to have to hide it from her. I just wish it wasn’t there in the first place. That I wasn’t so broken and life wasn’t so much harder for me for no reason.

“That’s ok baby, you’re ok. Do you want me to tell them you aren’t feeling well and will skip dinner?”

I shook my head and sighed “Bad idea. You need food”

She playful glared at the irony of my comment.

“Yeah, you’re right. How about I do most of the talking tonight then? I think I can handle ‘em”

“Ok” I signed.

“And Blinky, it’s ok you didn’t tell me. But you don’t have to hide your autism from me ok? I’m actually pretty sure Tommy is on the spectrum too.”

I gave her a look that said “really?”

“Mhmm. But when you’re feeling better, you have to promise to talk to me more ok? I can’t read your mind, and you don’t have to suffer alone anymore ok? Everyone in this house right now wants what’s best for you, ok? I’m not gonna judge you Blinky, I love you.”

That was the first time she’d said it. I mean of course I knew it, and I felt it, and I hope she felt it too. But neither of us had said it seriously before.

“You love me?” I sighed.

“More than anyone I’ve ever known.”

I was able to stutter out a weak “I love you” before I felt too tired to speak again.

I swear it almost looked like she was about to smile too. She kissed the back of my hand, respecting that I was way too overstimulated right now.

“Just relax Darlin’ why don’t you try to nap and I’ll wake you when they say dinners ready?”

I nodded, closing my eyes and snuggling up to her. Weed dreams were always the strangest.

An: the ketchup thing is so funny to me cause I’m allergic 😭 damn my tomato allergy ruining everything! Will write the others meeting her next, this chapter was just getting kinda long lol.

[myshipsaresunkwrites]

From The Ashes

Warning: language, substance abuse, references to suicide

A03. Playlist.

Chapter 8

“Are we there yet?”

“You asked me that five minutes ago,” Natasha replies.

“And you didn’t answer.”

“Because you’re annoying me. We’ll get there when we get there.”

Jake looks over at her. She’s typing away at her phone, barely paying him any attention. He feels like a petulant child, but they’ve been driving for over an hour now, leaving the city far behind.

“Legally you’re obligated to answer me,” he says.

Now she does look over at him. “Is that so?”

“I have a very good case to argue that if you don’t, you’re kidnapping me.”

“Interesting.” She turns back to her phone. “Have you ever checked your emails?”

“My emails?”

“I send you a detailed itinerary every morning.”

“My emails,” Jake repeats.

“Electronic mail. You can access it on your computer.”

“I don’t have a computer.”

Natasha gives him her full attention. “You don’t have a computer?”

“I don’t need one. I have people like you and George to deal with my schedule and finances and anything else important.”

“You don’t order anything online? Watch any TV?”

Jake shakes his head. She should know this already, though. Since he’s not producing any new albums, he’s almost constantly on tour to make up for the revenue disparity. What little free time he has, he uses to work-out, sleep off drunken escapades, and take part in said drunken escapades. And on the rare occasion he wants to watch TV, the hotel rooms always have one.

“What about your music writing? Don’t you use a computer for that?”

He’s not sure if she knows that’s a sore spot or not. “I don’t write music. Haven’t for a while, at least.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “Prolonged writer’s block.”

“Well.” She seems a bit at a loss. “What about your phone? You have an email app on there.”

He grins at her and unlocks his phone before tossing it her way. “You see for yourself.”

Natasha picks it up without hesitation. Her eyes widen as she sees the numbers in the notification bubbles. A horrified look crosses her face. Jake’s smile widens.

“How…how do you live like this?”

“You’re asking the wrong question. That’s precisely how I live. I don’t bother keeping up with it all. None of it is important. So why should I manage it?”

“You have thousands of missed calls. Texts. Emails. Voicemails. Everything.” Her voice shakes. He remembers how neat her room was and his amusement grows.

“Jake, we have to fix this. We have to - ”

He plucks his phone out of her grasp and shuts it off. “We don’t have to do anything,” he corrects. “But if you want me to be aware of an itinerary, it’s best if you print it out and stick it to my door. Or better yet, write it on my arm.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

Natasha taps a finger against her lips. “I could tell you lots of things you don’t already know. But you would know them if you bothered to read the itinerary I sent you. Such as where we’re going and how long it will take to get there.”

He scowls at her and she laughs. It’s such a nice, light sound and he finds himself trying not to smile. Fine. She’d won this round.

The trees thicken around them and the driver turns from the interstate onto a patchy road and then onto a dirt road. Jake reaches up and holds onto the handle near the roof as they bounce around.

“Didn’t know you were a fan of off-roading,” he jokes.

“I’ve never been,” she admits.

“Too dirty for you? It would be a shame if you got mud on your boots.”

Natasha shoots him a hard look. “Just because I’m from LA doesn’t mean I’m a prissy city girl.”

“I never said it meant that.”

“You insinuated it.”

“You’ve never done anything to make me think otherwise.”

“Not even that spontaneous run?”

Jake had forgotten about that. But even that was just sweat, not dirt. “If that’s the best you got, it’s not as good as you think.”

“Oh, I’ve got much better,” she promises. “You don’t know the first thing about me, Jake Seresin.”

He opens his mouth to refute the statement, then realizes it’s true. He doesn’t know anything about her that he hasn’t directly observed or asked. And he hasn’t exactly been curious.

He fully expected her to be gone in a few weeks so he hasn’t bothered. But after the way she’s been handling him, taking everything in stride and always bouncing back up after every disaster, he has a feeling she might last longer than the others.

The thought makes him oddly…excited.

He can’t remember the last time something other than the promise of alcohol at the end of a long, hard day made him excited. And even that’s not true excitement; it’s more relief than anything else.

The driver takes them deeper into a wooded area and then a cabin appears at the end of a long driveway. He slows down and pulls up. Jake glances at Natasha, but she just slips her phone into her pocket and reaches for the door handle.

“This is it?” he asks in disbelief.

“This is it,” she confirms.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m getting out of this car.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“This is a classic horror movie set up. You’re going to murder me in the middle of the night.”

“That depends on how much you piss me off in the next one hundred and sixty eight hours.”

Jake frowns, trying to do the math in his head. “A week? We’re staying a week here?”

“George said you needed to lay low, stay out of the media. So I figured what better way to keep you out of trouble than to take you somewhere you can’t possibly get into any trouble.” 

“Sweetheart, I can get into trouble anywhere.”

“Perhaps. But there’s no one to witness it except for me here.” She holds out her hand to him. “Now get out of the car.”

The last thing he wants to do is follow her, but he has the feeling he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. And really, who can he blame but himself? So he grabs her hand and lets her tug him out.

The driver is already taking their suitcases to the porch. Natasha grabs his guitar case and shoves it at him.

“What’s this for?”

“In case you want to practice.”

He doesn’t bother explaining to her that he doesn’t play unless he absolutely has to anymore. It just reminds him how empty his life has become. But her voice doesn’t leave any room for argument so he dutifully sets it with the other luggage.

“And groceries.” She hefts a cooler out of the trunk, followed by a second one. “This should get us through a week.”

“So we’re really stuck here.” Jake’s heart sinks. He thought they’d at least have some opportunity to leave, to go into town where he would be able to get a few drinks when he needs them. Nothing too crazy, just enough to take the edge off.

“Yep. It’s called roughin’ it.” She punches his right shoulder as she passes. “I thought you were a Texas boy. Are you really going to let the LA city girl upstage you?”

“Hell no.” The words don’t have the power behind them that he wishes they did. He turns and watches mournfully as the driver takes off, leaving them alone in the middle of nowhere. Then, with a sigh, he starts carrying stuff inside.

The cabin is relatively small, just a living room arranged around a fireplace, a small kitchen with a table, two bedrooms and a shared bath, and a screened-in porch set off the living room. There’s no TV, no laundry machines, only a handful of outlets for the lamps in the rooms. Jake would be surprised if the shower had hot water.

“You couldn’t have picked a better place,” he says sarcastically as he comes back from dumping their suitcases in the rooms. Natasha is busy unloading the groceries into the fridge.

“It’s perfect,” she agrees, sounding way too cheerful.

“Where did you even find out about it? Some old bog fisherman?”

“It was on AirBnB. Got a great rate for it, too.”

Jake leans his arms on the counter. “I am begging you. I am a millionaire. Do not choose my accommodations based solely off price.”

She leans her arms on the opposite side of the counter, facing him. “I am promising you, Jake Seresin. The price was just a bonus. I chose this place because of its amenities.”

“Amenities?” He sounds as pained as he feels. “Like snakes in the bedsheets and serial killers in the woods?”

“Like how it’s almost entirely off the grid.” She smiles, as though that’s a good thing. “No Wifi. No cell service. Limited electricity from that old generator outside. You’ll have plenty of time to think about what you’ve done and maybe you’ll think twice about doing it again.”

He groans and slams his forehead down on the counter. “I thought you forgave me. I apologized.”

“Yes, you did. But that doesn’t mean there’s no punishment.” She reaches over and pats his head. “This will be good for you.”

“That’s what they always say,” he mumbles.

“Maybe you should listen every once in a while.”

He hears the cupboards open and shut as she continues putting things away. He slowly lifts his head and glances around. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re stuck here for a week. What are we supposed to do for a whole week?”

“You could start by helping me unpack.”

He doesn’t feel like helping her do anything right now, but he’s already bored and when he’s bored he starts thinking about drinking so he stands up straight and opens the second cooler, putting away eggs, milk, a few vegetables, and some canned foods. At least she’d gotten some chocolate as well. She’s not a total hard-ass.

Just most of one.

When they finish putting everything away, he skulks off to his room. Part of him knows he’s acting childish, but he can’t help it. She is treating him like a child. When he misbehaved, even though he apologized and recognized what he did as wrong, she dragged him out into the middle of nowhere without warning. She couldn’t even pick a place with things to do.

His eyes fall on the guitar case leaning against the wall. There are things to do. Just things he doesn’t want to do.

And maybe that’s on him, not on her.

He didn’t tell her why he doesn’t write music anymore. And she doesn’t know that he doesn’t play for fun, either. It’s hard to blame her for not knowing what he’s not willing to tell her about.

He thinks of her offer from lunch yesterday. Even after all the stress he’s put her through in just a week, she still opened herself up to listen. To be his friend.

Would that really be so bad?

He can still remember clearly the care she’d taken as she cleaned and bandaged his arm, even though she was furious with him. He doesn’t remember the last time anyone touched him with such gentleness. Usually he’s just pushed from one place to another, positioned to pose for a camera or escorting from place A to place B.

Natasha does her fair share of pushing him. But she also reaches out for him.

He just can’t accept her hand.

-

Natasha doesn’t feel like cooking the first night, so she slaps together some sandwiches, puts them on a plate with some chopped carrots and apples, and calls Jake out. She realizes it’s a very child-ish dinner, but then decides that if Jake is going to act like a child, it’s what he deserves.

Thankfully he doesn’t complain as they sit at the small kitchen table and eat in silence.

The cabin is quiet - too quiet. Maybe Jake was right when he said it’s the perfect place for a horror movie. If someone came out of the woods and stabbed them, there’d be no way to call for help. No one is coming for a full week to check in on them.

A full week. With Jake Seresin. In a cabin in the woods. Far from society.

Yeah, maybe this wasn’t her most brilliant idea.

Natasha heads to her room and lounges on her bed, staring at her blank phone screen. She yearns to call Bradley, to have someone to talk to. She ends up turning over on her back and flinging an arm over her eyes. This is going to be a long week.

She lays there for a while. Then she suddenly remembers something and sits straight up.

She slides off her bed and crosses the hall to knock on Jake’s door.

“Yeah?”

The door inches open. She peers around to see Jake sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, and staring at the peeling wallpaper.

She’d make a joke about how boring he is, but she wasn’t doing too much better a minute ago.

“I forgot to tell you the best part of this place,” she says.

He doesn’t even look over. “The spiders?”

“There’s a hot tub.”

His head whips over to look at her. “If you’re joking, I might kill you.”

She grins. “I’m totally serious. It’s on the screened in porch.”

Then she ducks back into her room to throw on the one swimsuit she’d thought to bring with her to Texas. When George offered her the job, she knew she’d have to pack light - everything in one large suitcase. A lot of hotels have pools, so she figured she’d bring at least one suit. It turns out she never has had time so far, but it’s not like there’s anything else for her to do this week.

Jake is already by the hot tub, pulling the cover off. “Half the electricity from the generator has to go to this alone,” he says. “And I am not complaining.”

“I told you I picked this place for the amenities,” she says. He gives her a long-suffering look.

“Thin ice, Trace. Thin ice.”

It’s not the fanciest hot tub, but it does the trick. She closes her eyes and sighs as she slides in. After all the long hours she’d pulled last week - the late nights and early mornings, the middle of the night bail-outs and lunchtime arguments - she needs some recovery time already.

She opens her eyes and looks out at the absolutely gorgeous view of the forest outside. Unbroken by civilization. The sun is just beginning to set, casting a warm light over the trees and setting the sky on fire.

“I’ll give you some credit for the hot tub,” Jake says, and she looks over at him. He’s keeping his bandaged arm out of the water, resting it along the side of the tub, and his bruised side is on full display. It probably won’t be half healed by the time they leave.

“I know what I’m doing,” she replies, averting her eyes. She doesn’t want him getting the wrong idea. Or even thinking that she feels bad about how injured he is. Of course she doesn’t like that he’s in pain, but she can hardly feel sympathetic when he brought it upon himself.

“Still haven’t broken even, though. Maybe if we survive this week without the roof falling on top of us while we sleep.”

“I was assured it was structurally sound.”

“By the guy renting it out? Of course.”

“Can you ever just enjoy something, Jake? Do you always have to find things to complain about?”

That shuts him up. He stares at the window silently.

A few minutes pass and she’s starting to regret how harsh her words came across. At least he was talking to her before.

He drags his right hand across the top of the water, watching the ripples intently. “My parents,” he starts, and her head whips in his direction. “They never enjoyed anything. Always bitched about one thing or another.” He pauses. “I swore I’d never be like them.”

Ah, shit. She’d gone and stepped all over a sensitive topic. Of course. She knows she has a big mouth sometimes, isn’t always the best about thinking things through before they come out. Especially if she thinks it’s a “gotcha”. Her desire to have the last word has caused harm on more than a few occasions.

“Your parents are pretty rich, aren’t they?” she asks, treading carefully. If he doesn’t want to get into it she won’t push it, but he did bring it up first.

“Yeah. My dad built his fortune from nothing, so he’s extremely picky about everything. Doesn’t want to waste a cent of his hard-earned money and expects everyone in the world to have the exact same work-ethic as he does. And my mom comes from old money - think Gilded Age railroad barons - so she thinks she’s royalty.”

That explains a lot. Natasha also starts to get an idea about things he doesn’t explicitly say. “And how do they feel about your music career?”

“Which part? The music? Or everything else?”

She doesn’t need to ask about the everything else. No parent would approve of that. “The music.”

“They don’t understand.” Jake’s hand continues to lightly trace over the surface of the water. “But I never expected them to. I’m not sure they have souls.”

So it is his parents. She suspected it since Bob had told her about them, but now she’s almost positive.

Jake’s hand dips below the water. He looks over at her. “What about you, Trace?”

She blinks. “What about me?”

“Tell me about your family.”

He…wants to know about me? Why would he want to know about her if he isn’t expecting her to stick around more than a few weeks? Then again, he had called George and asked him not to fire her, so maybe he’s finally given up trying to scare her off. Maybe he’s even starting to warm up to her.

I don’t have friends, Trace. I’m sure you understand why.

Or maybe she’s overthinking it and he’s just bored.

“It’s me, my parents, and my four older brothers,” she says. 

“Four brothers?” Jake shakes his head. “No wonder you’re the way you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gives her a look she’s starting to think of as his signature look. “You know exactly what it means. You’re tough, you don’t take any crap from anyone. And you’re not easily impressed. You have the weariness of a middle-aged mother.”

She opens her mouth to protest, then closes it. A smile instead comes over her. He’s right. It’s not an insult, either. She’s not like women in their twenties who didn’t grow up dealing with crazy shit all the time and are constantly starstruck by any semi-attractive man, even if he acts like a child half the time. And she has no tolerance for such behavior.

But it also indicates compassion. No matter how exhausted mothers are, they still take time to care for those around them. No matter how angry they get, they still find some measure of softness inside of them.

“Alright, I’ll take it,” she says. “But if I’m a tired mother, you’re a deadbeat dad.”

Jake winces, but he doesn’t argue. “And that’s precisely why I don’t have any kids.”

“Really? None? No secret child with a groupie you won’t find out about until they’re too bitter to want you in their life?”

“Damn, Trace, you’re cold.”

She shrugs. “I just happen to know the business.”

“No, no chance of kids. I don’t do the whole groupie thing. Too busy illegally drag racing motorcycles with gang bangers.”

She snorts. “In terms of permanently changing lives, I guess that’s slightly better.”

“I prefer to limit damage to myself.”

“And the side of a building.”

Jake raises his bandaged arm and motions at his bruised side. “I’m pretty sure the building won this fight.”

She grimaces. “Does it hurt much?”

He gives her that look again. “What do you think?” His voice drips sarcasm.

“Fine, stupid question. We’ll make sure to get you some ice before you go to bed.”

“Are you going to tuck me in, too, and read me a story?”

“Depends on if you’re a good boy.”

Jake smirks, and she feels herself fighting back a smile in return. It’s so easy with him like this. She thinks he’s enjoying himself, too. At least he’s acting like it. Why isn’t this enough for him?

A wave of sadness washes over her then. That’s his problem. That’s why he constantly turns to the bottle. Reality isn’t enough. He has to find ways to escape it at every turn.

She’s been approaching this all wrong. Now that she knows Jake didn’t have a great upbringing, that he doesn’t have anyone to turn to when he’s struggling with something, she knows what she has to do. With Bradley it was different. Bradley had a couple traumatic events that changed the course of his life. Once he was able to address those, he could pull himself out of the abyss of grief and self-loathing he’d fallen into. 

But Jake doesn’t have a “tragic backstory”, as they might say. He just had a progressive build up of crappy moments and memories that slowly built-up a massive weight on his shoulders. He doesn’t need to address them - it would be nearly impossible to do that. He just needs to be shown that there is something else. That life doesn’t have to be what it always has been.

Maybe that’s why he apologized after she’d brought him back from the police station. He expected her to leave him, or at most to bring him back and dump him in his room. He didn’t think she’d take the time to make sure he was okay, to help clean him up and tend to his wounds.

Because no one had ever done something like that for him before.

That’s her way in. Showing him that he’s not alone. Showing him kindness and patience when she wants to wring his neck. 

Giving him the unconditional love every child should have but he never experienced.

It’s a tall order. She won’t deny it. It might seem easy now, when he’s sober and friendly, but she’s seen how bad it can get. She knows she’s in for a rough ride ahead.

But she wants to help him. As more than just her job. He may not think he has any friends, but she’s going to be here for him whether he wants it or not.

She hoists herself out of the hot tub. Jake watches.

“Bedtime?” he asks.

“If you want a story.”

She’s joking, but inwardly she wonders if he ever got that - if his parents or at least his nanny or whoever was around ever took the time to read his favorite book to him or create some fantastical series just for him. She aches at the thought of a child who was shuffled off, dismissed, viewed as a chore instead of a joy.

Natasha tosses him a towel as she dries herself off, then helps him put the cover back on. She ties her towel around her chest and pulls out the big bag of ice she’d brought from the freezer. Some of it had melted and gotten stuck together during the drive, so she takes a metal spoon and uses the end to smash it back into smaller pieces.

She’d also come prepared with cling wrap and ziplock bags. She fills a gallon-sized bag and presses it against his ribs, ignoring his sudden hiss of pain.

“It’ll feel better in ten minutes. You’ll thank me then.”

She reaches out for the bandages along his arm, but he pulls back. 

“Don’t be a baby. We should change those as well. Clean them out again.”

“Not tonight.”

“Jake - ”

“Not tonight,” he repeats. She sighs and drops her hands.

“Alright.”

She follows him as he heads back to his room, leaning against the doorframe. “You forgive me for dragging you out here yet?”

“Ask me again on day five.”

She rolls her eyes, but takes it as a victory. A whole day without any drinking, meltdowns, fights or other incidents. She may just keep her job after all.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

[somian-audere]

ENTRY XIII

Mission Accomplished

I did it,

         I finally complimented three women. I’ve told you all about the first one, and you know what they say about the second verse, it’s the same as the first. Though this one had a bit of a complication, as the woman I intended to complement had a friend by her side, I got lucky and her friend got off the bus first, so I moved in. Tapped her shoulder and whispered, “You’re very pretty,” and got a “thanks' ' in response. This woman had long black hair, wore a white blouse, and had black-rimed glasses. Her figure was a bit petite but was nonetheless attractive to me, at the very least. The third woman was a brunette whose hair had yellow highlights, which is a style that I generally don’t like as I prefer simpler colors on hair, but I liked her face shape, and voice as it was very…cute. I was actually having trouble with this one, as I decided to kick it up a notch by instead saying, “You’re very beautiful.” Again, I got really lucky, as the woman actually lived at the dormitory I was staying at, and as we got off the bus, I tapped her shoulder and said…well you know. And she gasped cutely, which caused me to blush profusely then I panickily ran to the elevator.

Yes, yes, I know,

         I will remain a virgin forever, thanks. Honestly, I felt bad for her because she took the stairs rather than the elevator. The girls’ rooms are usually situated on the 3-4 floors while the boys’ rooms are placed on the fifth floor, which in retrospect, is good for me since the chances of us interacting again are close to zero. The climb is a massive pain though, if you’re reading this then I’m really sorry!

So, what did I learn?

         A single word, a single step, isn’t defined by bravery but the willingness to do something scary and frightening even if it’s something that you’re telling yourself is crazy. I…I’m not brave, in fact, I’m probably the most cowardly person I know. I’m frightened of a lot of things, the future more so, what sits at the very core of these fears, is the unknown.

I don’t know

         Is something that I say a lot these days. And I hate it, I want to know what awaits me at the horizon, but I don’t. And so, I overcompensate, in order to overcome the challenges that lie ahead, but it isn’t enough, I’m not enough. And I guess that might’ve been one of the contributing factors as to why I had such a hard time completing the third complement of “You’re very beautiful,” because I’m not really such a good-looking guy myself. I mean, I wear one of those character hoodies every day, and somehow my so-called friend group always manages to lose me, though again, I am very good at blending into the background. I’m not special, and my looks definitely aren’t. Personality? Please, the more you get to know me, the less you’d like me.

Still,

         I guess ‘love at first talk,’ isn’t really for me. The first mutual relationship I ever had was more of a slow burn, we met because one of my best friends had introduced us to each other as we shared a lot of common interests, and then we became acquaintances. I can’t quite recall how we got close to each other after that, but before I knew it, she inched closer to a part of myself that I didn’t quite understand. I never really did know how love felt but…she made me aware of it. She confided in me, and I confided in her. She was my best friend, I knew that she was going to be great, and no matter how hard I tried, I knew that I wasn’t.

I couldn’t drag her down.

         Not with me, I knew that then, and I know it now. We stayed in touch for a few years, and then it was gone. It hurt, but it was needed, she deserved her own peace of mind. Ironically enough, she took hold of the dream that died in me. I’m glad, I’m very rarely right, but seeing her live up to her dreams, now…that’s something that I’m proud of.

I don’t know if I’m still in love with her.

         Time blurs with each passing moment

         The feelings I had then, may not be the same as the ones I have now

         “Hindsight is a bitch”, as they say

         Regardless of that, know this,

         I still believe in you.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Omg omg omgggg! Anon here who asked for ‘I’m Really into You’ - that was amazing and exactly what I was thinking of… it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside 🥰 as for your note, I would love to read a second part with some smut, the setup for it was absolutely amazing. Thank you so much, this is the first time I’ve requested something and it was way better than I could have imagined!

I'm Really Into You - Part 2

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!plus size reader

Word Count: 2500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I never anticipated the immediate response part one of this would receive. Y’all had such kind words, seriously some of the best comments I’ve ever gotten on anything. And the overwhelming response was for a part 2 so here it is! I never need an excuse to write for this man (I am his whore). I'm sorry it took me a minute to get to it!

Part 1 - I’m Really Into You

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

Benny texts me the next day, confirming out date and telling me to dress casually. Well he said “casually sexy” but my cofidence isn’t the best so he gets what he gets. 

An arcade. An arcade with bowling. Have I mentioned how much I like this guy?

We play games first, Benny always having his hand on me in some way, whether it’s my lower back as he gently guides me through the crowd, touching my arm when he laughs, our legs touching in the racing games, or just holding my hand while we walk around.

At the skeeball lanes, something else happens. 

I’m not the best at skeeball but I’m not terrible. Benny on the other hand, he has a magical arm. With a graceful flick of his wrist, I swear those balls sink into the highest score tube every. Single. Time. He watches me as I try to roll my ball up the lane, huffing when it bounces off the side. 

“Lemme help you?” He asks. Asks. Not tells. 

“Sure. You seem to have a magical touch.”

His voice drops as he moves to stand behind me and he breathes in my ear. “Now that I do.”

Son of a bitch.

He stands flush against my back, his arms melding to mine as he holds the back of my hand, helping me to grip the ball. Honestly I’m not sure what he says because there’s just fan noises going off in my head, the scent of him overpowering that of the arcade. I feel the heat of his body and when he pulls my arm back to guide me in releasing the ball, I bend over and I hear him groan slightly as my hips push back into his. And when I sink the ball more towards the middle, I stand straighter and definitely feel the cause of his grunt against me. 

This asshole is amazing at bowling too. He uses both hands, not even staying to watch the ball effortlessly knock down all of the pins, Benny’s finger tapping the air the second the ball makes impact behind his back. No wonder he’s good at skeeball. 

This time, when he stands behind me to show me some bowling tips, I decide to tease him a bit and push my hips back into his, grinding slightly. I feel his breathe puff out on my neck and he shifts his weight to be closer to me. 

“Be a good girl, Poppy.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

I miss all the pins.

Situating myself back against him, I push my hips back again, smirking at the grunt he lets out.

“Keep that up and we’re gonna have to cut this game short.”

“Oh darn.”

I hit 1 pin.

I move to stand in front of him again, but before I can push my hips back, he tips my chin backwards towards him, his lips brushing across mine. 

“One last ball and then we have to leave because I may get kicked out for being indecent around families.”

I chuckle, nodding because I’d forgotten words. Benny steps back and I release the ball, managing to knock down a few more pins. When I turn around, Benny’s eyes snap up to mine.

“Were you checking me out?” I ask, surprised.

He takes 2 steps, closing the distance between us. His bright blue eys are dark and he pulls me to him by my hips. 

“How could I not? You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

He kisses me, deepening it only slightly before pulling back.

“Ok, I’m done with bowling. Take me home, please.” 

He chuckles at my response and nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

—-

He finds a space and parks, angling his body towards me. 

“I had a great time-”

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

We both speak at the same time, chuckling at the end of our rushed sentences. 

“I mean, I had a great time too, Benny. R-really.” Fuck, I’m so nervous. He’s so hot and I’m just…me.

“Do you want me to?”

“I-what?”

“What you asked.”

Fuck yes.

“I-I do. Only if you want to? It’s ok if you don’t-”

He reaches across the console and pulls my face to his, immediately pushing his tongue inside my mouth, sliding it across my bottom teeth. Fuck he’s a good kisser, letting out little whimpers and moans as he does. He pulls back, tugging slightly on my lower lip as I follow him.

“Fuck,” I let that slip accidentally, and I only know I said it out loud because he chuckles.

“Only because you’ve been a good girl.”

I am in unknown territory. I’ve never really been desired by anyone and so have no clue how to respond besides a mumbled incoherent sound. He gets out of his jeep and walks around, holding the door open for me as I climb out. He closes the door and then pushes me against it, slotting his long leg between mine and pulling my head to his, kissing me deeply again. My hands fist in his shirt, unsure of what to do with them. His hands start to travel down to my sides and I flinch, my insecurity flaring to life.

“Poppy? Did I hurt you?”

“N-no. I’m..I’m ok.”

I kiss him and he hesitates briefly before responding, his hands going back to my sides. I flinch again, unable to stop myself and he stops. 

“Am I doin’ somethin’ wrong?”

No. you’re fucking perfect.

“No. You’re fine, it’s…it’s me.”

He waits patiently, giving me time to think on what to say, if I want to say. I sigh, looking down. 

“I know I’m not the most…fit person. And I’ve been bullied almost my whole life for it. I just…it’s just…” Tears start to well in my eyes and I wipe at them furiously, willing them to stop.

Benny puts his finger under my chin and tilts my head up. 

“I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Poppy. Can I show you?”

I nod and he wipes a tear from my face with his thumb. 

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Y-yes.”

He pushes his hips to mine, my ass hitting the side of his jeep as he pulls up one of my legs and hitches it on his hip. He pushes closer to me somehow, his nose touching mine as he breathes heavily and I feel him through his jeans, hard and desperate as he very slightly grinds against my clothed cunt. He grabs my wrists and pins them on either side of my head as he leans in and kisses some spot on my neck that has me whimpering his name. 

“We better go somewhere more private if you’d like before I take you against my jeep. Fuck you turn me on so much.”

“Yes please.” 

He backs off of me and groans, holding my hand as we walk to my apartment. The second I close the door he’s on me, kissing, touching, nipping, and I can barely catch my breath, dropping my keys on the floor as he starts walking me towards the hall. He breaks the kiss only once to confirm consent, which I frantically give, and to ask which door is the bedroom. I tell him and he resumes kissing me, this time trying to undress me. My insecurity fires to life again once he has my pants off and tries to go for my shirt.

“Poppy?”

“I…I just don’t..”

He smiles at me. “It’s alright. Leave it on if it makes you feel more comfortable.” 

We’re at my bedroom door and I open it, thanking my earlier self for cleaning the entire place before this date just in case. He pushes me to sit on the bed before he stands back, gripping the back of his shirt and sliding it off. Fuck he’s muscular, little patches of hair on the middle of his chest and leading down under his pants..which he is now undoing, leaving him standing there in his boxers - correction. He’s pitching a massive tent in his boxers. He steps between my legs and I lean back, feeling his hands glide up my bare thighs.

“You can leave the shirt on, but I wanna go under it. If that’s ok?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“I won’t do anythin’ you’re uncomfortable with. I just wanna show you how fuckin’ sexy you are…if the tent in my pants isn’t enough to convince you.”

His eyes are big and round, and dark with lust, his eyebrows coming together just a bit to make him look like a damn puppy.

“I could start and if you want me to stop, you just tell me. Sound ok?”

“O…ok.”

“I got you, Poppy.”

His hands slide under my shirt, pulling it up enough for him to put his head under it. Thankfully, I had worn a flowy shirt so there was plenty of room but I’m still nervous as fuck-

He’s kissing my stomach, my sides, all of the places he noticed I was self conscious about, little moans and grunts escaping him as he does. I feel his teeth lightly nip at me and I gasp, feeling his hands touch and caress me. 

“Fuck you’re hotter than I pictured. Fuck.”

He pushes in further, sliding his hand around my back to fumble with my bra clasp. 

“It’s in the front.” 

“No shit, really? That’s fuckin’ awesome! Ah I see it.”

His fingers fumble at the front clasp and the bra opens, and he moans, bringing his hands up to grab at them, sliding his thumbs over my nipples and chuckling as I whimper.

“Well now I think I prefer front opening bras.”

He lowers his head and takes a boob in his mouth, sucking and licking and oh shit it feels so good! My hand flies to the back of his head, trying to grasp at his hair that I can’t reach because he’s under my shirt.

“That feels so good,” I whine out and he switches to the other, paying it the same attention. 

A few moments later, he scoots back down to be level with my stomach again, nuzzling into it. 

“Fuck how are you this gorgeous?”

“I-I’m not-OH!”

As he kisses my stomach, one of his hands slides between my thighs, moving under my underwear and dances across my clit, little circles and taps igniting that fire in my belly. My moves on to kiss and nip at my side and fuck! He slides a finger inside me and I cry out his name, feeling him add a second as he pumps back into me, the heel of his palm pressing down on my clit. 

“Oh fuck Benny!”

He’s found some spot inside me, I can never reach it but fucking hell does it feel amazing, like a center for pleasure that radiates out every time his long fingers tap against it. I know I’m close, I can feel it.

“Benny, I’m gonna..gon…UGHHH!” 

My head flies back into the bed and I cry out, feeling my pussy tighten around him as I come, my arousal spurting out of me as Benny guides me through it. As I come down I’m mortified - did I just pee on him?

“Oh God Benny, I’m so sorry.”

“For what, sweetheart?” He pulls his head from under my shirt, his hair sticking up at odd angles.

“For all the..”I gesture down to my now soaked sheets and he glances down and back to me.

“Poppy…have you never squirted before?”

“I- that’s squirting?”

He smiles. “Yes. Feel good?”

I nod. “It felt…I’ve never done that before. That was...fuck!”

He smiles wider. “Perfect. I wanted you to feel good as I kissed this fucking amazing body of yours.”

“You-you wanted me to have a positive body association?”

He stares blankly at me for a moment. “That sounds right.”

“Take off your boxers.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He stands up to take off his boxers, his eyes darkening even more with lust. Fuck he’s long - thicker than I’ve had before but not outrageously thick. He is long as shit though and beautiful. He starts to lean down, but I put my hand out. 

“Wait.”

“Are you-”

I sit up, grabbing the bottom of my shirt and ripping it over my head. I clutch it to my chest for a moment before nodding slightly to myself, chucking the shirt on the floor. I can’t help but to wrap my arms around myself, despite knowing he’d just seen me. 

“Hey.”

I look up at him, my hands still trying to cover myself. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He kneels on the bed, leaning towards me as I lean back. His eyes lock on mine as I lay back fully, Benny crawling up my body, pushing my thighs open wider to settle between them before he leans on his forearm. His finger traces a line down the side of my face as his eyes skit across it. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you.”

He kisses me and I feel him pressing at my entrance, heavy and wanting. Instead of pushing in though, he slides up through my folds, covering his cock in my arousal from just minutes before. Fuck this feels amazing, like he’s touching every sensitive part of me at once. I feel that warmth spreading through me again with every slide, every-

Fuck!

He gently pushes inside me and I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I cry his name. He stops to make sure I’m ok but then chuckles when I try to push his ass down to get him in deeper. He’s thick and long enough that I feel like every part of me feels every part of him, all the ridges, veins, and just..fuck. He pulls out and pushes back in a few more times, watching me as I writhe under him, my eyes closed in concentration. 

“You feel fuckin’ tight, Poppy. I don’t…fuck..I don’t know if I can hold back.”

“I won’t break.”

He pauses. “You sure?”

“Rail me, Benny.”

“As you wish.”

He snaps his hips, setting a rough pace as he fucks me into my mattress. I grip his muscular back, nails scratching at his skin, my voice puffing out with our thrusts UGH UGH UGH! He grabs my leg, pulling it over his hip and he hits some other spot at the back of me and I’m done, flying straight over the cliff into another orgasm. I scream his name, pulsing around him, nails digging into his skin deeper, as he keeps railing into that spot, pushing me up the bed while prolonging my release. Once I start to descend, my grip on his back loosens and I feel his hips falter. He thrusts into me a few more times before pulling out, grunting and moaning as he comes on my stomach, rope after rope of him splayed out over my skin. He’s breathing hard, we both are. He looks down at my stomach, his softening dick laying on it, surrounded by his cum and I swear I feel his dick twitch at the sight. 

“Fuck how are you this hot?” He asks, his eyes slowly moving up my naked body to find mine. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

He chuckles. “I don’t know about that. But I know I better clean you up before round 2.”

“R-round 2?”

His expression darkens as he looks at me with a smirk. “Well you can’t lay there looking all sexy and expect me to not want to taste you.”

—----

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[rcksmith]

Desire — Kaz Brekker

(Photo not mine)

Requests: “Hello there! I've been around this blog for a bit now and you are an amazing writer! I was wondering if you would be ok with doing something with 21 28 & 29 from the smut prompts and kaz brekker? If you are uncomfortable please just ignore this!”

“Kaz brekker Smut prompts 28 66?? Love you💖!!”

“I can request Kaz smut prompts 29?❤️”

Smut prompts:

21. “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

66. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of shot, mention of desire, desire, mention of smut, explicit smut, NSFW.

Word count: 3k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There was something about you. Something impossible to decipher, with a glow hovering around you like a electrical energy. Wrapping your whole body in a cloak of magnetism. There was something about the way you spoke, walked, laugh. Something about what it was like to be you, in your beauty and mysteries like a sphinx.

Something that made Kaz Brekker completely furious.

You couldn't be more distorted from the image, in Kaz's mind, than what was to be a peaceful woman. Calm, controled, with steel emotions and wit in eyes. Someone who, like him, knew how to dance the waltz of negotiation, manipulation, who could blend in with the shadows and know the best time to listen more than speak.

You were not like Inej, you were not like Jesper. Hell, you were like nobody Kaz has known in all of his 28 years.

Nothing reminiscent of calm and control would be used to describe what it meant to be you.

Your soul are stormy, loud, obstinate, too stubborn and too talkative. You needed to speak loudly, laugh, move, expose your opinions to the seven winds and to whoever listened the most. You needed to question, inquire, doubt and test the limits of any situation. A direct order for you would be an affront to your free and independent spirit. A command that would curtail your freedom or tame your strong genius was almost like an invitation for you to do exactly the opposite of what they had ordered you to do.

So, for a man of trained reasoning, subtly balanced world, and who was used to his every command being followed vehemently and promptly in blind obedience, such a personality like you was like introducing a disturbing factor capable of shaking all his judgments. Sand in a watch, or stone in a shoe, would be no more a nuisance than a strong nature like your.

The extraordinary stubbornness and mania to counter his orders - when, in your words, they were unreasonable - had made you different from all the women Brekker had ever met. Kaz liked challenges and responsibilities, a good puzzle, but you were on a level far beyond that.

You were a danger to his peace of mind. And you knew that. All his aversion to your indomitable spirit only served as fuel for your own mission in to piss him off. Few men were like Kaz Brekker, you knew that, with a strength of character too powerful to be ignored. He was not just comfortable in his position of authority as he was obviously unable to act in any other way than as a leader. His stoic figure and always so contained in a wall of indifference made you want to ruffle his hair to see if you could remove any emotion. And being a girl who hasn't always liked leaders, Kaz Brekker was a huge temptation. Few moments had been better than those that you managed to piss him off beyond what he could handle.

However, all the reasons why the two of you were so exasperating for each other, did not explain why the air crackled in ambiguity when your eyes met. The hemisphere was adorned in a thought-provoking, poignant veil, like a warm honey flowing down its throat, and there was something else in the way blood flowed like flames of fire through veins of you two.

Jesper said that the sexual tension between you was so tangible that it could be cut by one of Inej's knives, but you refused to think of Kaz that way. At least until that moment.

Not pure images of what the infamous Brekker could do to you between four walls swept you like the strong Arabian wind. Making you be surprisingly breathless. Kaz was not a man whose private life was exposed, nor was he involved with many women, but you have heard two or three of them when they were drunk saying that Kaz Brekker in the room could be incendiary.

Everyone knew that his touch reserve didn't limit him to anything, but that his job was at the top of the priority list and that sexual encounters were almost never on that list.

"It was not my fault!” Jesper defended himself one night, slightly drunk, sitting at the club's round table next to the other crows “I didn't know he was married to another man! That damn pretty face seduced me!”

"Did he seduce you?" You asked, skeptical and playful.

"I swear to God! And it had been a long time since I had sex with anyone, and I went… ”

“But you did sex last week." Inej laughed, chocked.

"Exactly!" Jesper said, as if he were obvious.

You laughed with your beer glass in your hand, taking another sip.

“Is a week a long time to not sleep with anyone?" Matthias retorted, trying not to laugh.

“Are you going to tell me that is not?” Jesper and Nina spoke at the same time.

“If a man has time for sex more than once a week, he clearly doesn't have much to do. And I'm sure I gave Jesper a lot of tasks that would keep him busy.” Kaz narrowed his eyes at his friend, and Jesper hid his guilt behind the rim of his beer glass, looking to the side.

"So you are saying that you are a very busy man?" You teased, trying not to laugh at the scathing look Kaz sent you.

"I disagree. The values ​​of hard work and discipline cannot match the hot body of a woman in bed.” Matthias said, exchanging a brief conspiratorial look with Nina, who winked at him.

"There are more important things." Said Kaz.

"Like what?" You rested your chin on the back of the hand whose elbow was on the table, the playful look of a rebellious student.

"Progress." Kaz held your gaze.

He wasn't going to take your bait. But you didn't give up easy.

"Tell me, if God gave you a deal: all the hunger in the world would be extinguished in exchange for you never being able to have sex again, what would you choose?" your eyes had a teasing feline glow.

At that moment, Kaz felt a shiver up the back of his neck, like a warm breath of autumn. Something crawled, like a snake, across his rib cage and down to his groin, pumping blood like fire through his veins.

He held your gaze, but the feline glow in your eyes promised to contain the most ardent sins. Suddenly, Kaz's mind was flooded by the wave of obscene images of you, on his bed; moaning, squirming, shouting his name and being very obedient with every order he gave you.

He would make you such a good girl...

"I don't believe in God." He replied succinctly, the predator's eyes still in your eyes audacious feline's.

A big, satisfied smile spread across your face, and you said: "As I thought. Bad luck for hungry people.”

Realizing that he had fallen right into your cunning trap, Kaz got rid of your diabolical magnetism and cursed.

“I didn't say…” he stopped, impatient “It doesn't matter. I have more important things to do than waste time here.”

But the smile you hid behind the glass was noticeable to Kaz.

After that night, the crackling, gasping flame that circled the two of you intensified to alarming levels. Kaz could feel you holding your breath when he was too close, and you could see him squeezing his cane harder when you sweetened your voice for him.

However, regardless of Kaz's wanted to fold you at a table and put an end to your brat girl pose, enjoying the groans he was sure you would let out, the two of you still fought like dog and cat.

Just as it was now.

“What do you mean, I'm not going?!” You looked at Kaz, amazed, when he told you that you would not participate in the robbery that week “I know that security system like the back of my hand!”

It was true, what you had of stubbornness, you had of technological intelligence. There was no computer that you would not hack, a program that you would not hack, and a system that you would not unlock. Your genius with technology made up for all your lack of obedience.

But Kaz ignored. “I've already told you. It's a more dangerous mission than you're used to and we don't have time for the plans you come up with right away.” He needled you.

“Are you referring to Switzerland?” You were never anything short of direct and inquiring. It was logical that you would question every orden. “But I already told you that when the alarm went off your plan didn't work anymore! I was more useful inside to deactivate the alarm than waiting outside.”

And stubborn. Holy God, how stubborn you were!

"And it cost you to get shot."

"But it was just a shot!"

Kaz looked at you, puzzled. “Just?! And wasn't it enough ?! You put the whole team at risk!”

“But if I hadn't deactivated the alarm, we would all be arrested! And only I knew how to do that!”

"My fucking God, isn't there a speck of common sense in you?!"

But you answered boldly: "Not when you impose clueless plans on me."

Mortified would be an understatement to describe how he was now. What an unbearable creature! Kaz felt the anger spread from his neck to his face, igniting his breath and squinting his eyes in annoyance.

Why was it so difficult for you to follow a simple goddamn rule?!

“Besides, your initial plan was flawed and there was no reason for me to be out when it was necessary inside and...” And you kept talking!

If you had noticed Kaz's completely enraged state in front of you, you would have been scared, shut up and ran. But, truth be told, Kaz suspected that even if you knew how to read the murderous humor in his eyes, you wouldn't have left that office. Much less be afraid. You could argue with the demon. And you would probably beat him out of tiredness.

However, regardless of the desire to shake you up, to see if that put any good sense in you, in that second, watching you gesture with your hands, defending your point of view as if it were the england queen's crown, something swept Kaz's body from the top of his head with dark hair to the tips of his illustrated boots.

The sound of the world was drowned out by the flow of blood itself in his veins. His heart hammered hard in his chest and, in that instant, a sharp sting in his groin and the pit of his stomach set him on fire.

His gaze went down to your mouth, which kept moving. And when it came up to your eyes, your stubborn and defiant gaze sent Kaz's rationality into space. He dropped the cane abruptly, which toppled to the floor with a hollow crack, and advanced towards you in firm and determined steps.

Gluing his gloved hands to your face, Kaz silenced all your protests with a strong kiss. Hot, fiery, domineering. The kind of kiss that held years of camouflaged desire, years of irritability, years of an unnerving desire to make you shut up with all the perverse forms that existed.

You weren't afraid of him. But you should. You should if you knew everything he wanted to do with you.

However, as if you have been burning in the same desire for years, you responded to that kiss with the same urgency. The same hunger. Kaz slipped his hands into your hair, closing his fingers there and deepening the kiss with ferocity. He felt beside himself, like a hungry wild animal that had been denied food for years and that only now had its teeth set on its prey. You moaned against his lips, bringing your hands to his lean, strong biceps, squeezing your fingers there.

You both needed air, but neither seemed to give a damn about that. Misted of desire that burned like a fire in their bodies, Kaz pushed the two of you backwards, slamming your back against the wall and swinging a frame beside. You gasped, and the gesture made it possible for Kaz to invade your mouth with his tongue, hunting every piece of hot meat. You two fought the same battle in that kiss: invade, dominate, conquer.

They both wanted to take the waltz, but Kaz would never let you conduct the show.

He pulled your wrists up, pinning them with one hand against the wall, leaving you immobile while sinking his mouth further into yours. Kaz felt you try to get rid of his tight grip, but he was stronger than you. And much more when he have a objective.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He murmured against your mouth, the tip of his tongue playing with your bottom lip. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Was impossible for you to control the loud moan that escaped. Your body trembling with desire, your legs wobbly, your wet core vibrating with his words. Kaz Brekker was a fallen angel. With a beauty and charm you've never been immune to.

How can you think you'd win the dominance game with him?

And, like the fallen angel he was, his smug and arrogant smile painted the corner of his lips when he saw what his lines did to you.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Kaz mocked “If I knew it was only necessary to do this for you to shut up...” he brought his lips closer, his voice hitting yours “I would have fucked you like the naughty brat you have been a long time.”

If his caustic and maddening kisses hadn't been enough to break you in half, that statement would have done all the work.

In that second, you hoisted your white flag, biting your lip in a needy moan and closing your eyes for a second by the overwhelming vibration of your core. God, you needed more. Whatever he gave you. Anything he wanted to give you. You just needed more.

"Are you going to be good?" He played with the dough you were in his hands, his devilish mouth going down your neck, leaving a trail of fire and debris wherever he went.

You agreed, desperately. “Yes, Sir."

That title seemed to do things with Kaz. Because in the next second, his mouth was back on your. More urgent, more needy, more dominating. You shifted your hips for more friction with his, and Kaz rewarded your obedience by pulling one of your thighs forward, making your skirt go up, aligning your thigh on his hips and giving access for his member to fit perfectly against your pulsating core.

You moaned louder this time. Fingers clenching, heart pumping frantically. Kaz pulled his lips away from you for a second, taking his hand off your thigh and bringing it to your mouth.

“Pull.” He ordered, referring to the glove.

You murmured a low, excited moan, bringing your mouth to the glove and clenching your teeth on the cloth at the top of his middle finger. Satisfied, Kaz pulled his hand back, watching the alabaster skin peel away from the leather fabric. As soon as he was free, he removed the glove from your mouth, replacing it with his own and stealing all your breath in that fiery kiss.

His free hand wandered over your thigh, touching you for the first time with a touch that promised to show you all the most delicious and secret sins in the world. His tongue wrapped around your again, and the moan you let out was even greater when his long fingers brushed against your wet, throbbing core.

"S-sir!" You sobbed, your hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

"Look at you." His fire voice beat against your lips, the tightness against your wrists getting stronger, more possessive "I’ ve only started using my fingers and you ’re already shaking"

Your body cried out in unbridled desire, sobs mingling with loud moans and heavy sighs as Kaz tormented you with his fingers. He touched you, slid, opened and sank, increasing the volume of your pleas.

“P-please" You begged, the body in need, the urge too urgent.

Kaz looked you in the eye, a dark, malicious gleam burning in his Egyptian blue irises. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" He teased you.

But you no longer cared about his teasing. With your lips swollen and red, your heart racing and the core pulsing in despair on his experienced fingers, you were already surrendered.

"Please. I n-need." You mumbled submissively, rummaging your hips in his hand.

"I bet if I wanted to fuck you against my desk, here and now, you would be very happy to do it, wouldn't you?"

He was foisting all of his dominance on you, bending you to your knees for him. And you knew that. You knew he was taking years of anger out on you. But you couldn't care less. You wanted him. Ardently. Desperately. And if it was a good girl Kaz wanted, damn it, you would be a good girl for him.

You readily agreed, your eyes shining in supplication.

“Good.” Kaz pulled you brutally off the wall, turning you over to the table and pushing your chest against the icy wood, pulling your hips at him. “Because that's exactly what is going to happen.”

Suddenly, desire and hunger roared like a wild beast. Kaz watched you, bent over his desk, obedient, surrendered, offering every inch of your body to him.

His breath was burning in his throat and it was no longer possible to order his thoughts, contain his euphoria. He would fuck you so hard that it would make that memory the only thought when you remembered him. When you dare to rebut his orders.

Kaz pulled you skirt up and your panties down, letting out a groan that sounded more like a growl as he saw your wet core. Pulsing and desperate for him. For anything he wanted to give you. It sparked a fervent desire that Brekker had never felt in his life, devastating any possibility of thinking about anything other than fucking you.

Playing with your fingers in your slick, wet folds, you whimpered again, the core pulsing whenever he teased you inside, pressing his fingertips there but never entering.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" His voice came over the top of your shoulder, hoarse, animalistic, full of profane desires.

"Please." You were quick to beg “I do what you want! But just...please, please… ”

You already felt your eyes watering from over-stimulation, your heart burning so hard it was beating, your core aching from emptiness.

You sealed the end of the game between you. Kaz had won. In a triumphant checkmate.

And you didn't have to beg again. Barely seeing when he unbuttoned his pants, you just reasoned his hard, hot, pulsating member by opening your from the inside. Claiming everything that was yours as his in a strong, desperate, hungry lunge.

"S-sir!" You screamed, your nails scraping the wood from the table, the core pulsing overwhelmingly around his rigid member.

In a more badly lunge, Kaz sank completely into you, moaning loudly as he hit rock bottom. The gloved hand slid over your shoulder, propelled you to him while the bare hand tightened on your waist, hitting you at a steady, raw, animalistic rhythm.

The sounds were pornographic, dirty and loud, echoing off the walls. The air was hot like molten lava, pungent and muffled, driving you two lost breath. Their bodies clashed as if the world was going to end tomorrow, in aggressive, rough thrusts. These were thrusts that made half of his things on the table fall to the floor, mixing in a mess that would serve as a reminder later about the sinful activities you two did.

You screamed when Kaz took on more force, his fingers squeezing you so hard that they would leave you with marks on your shoulder and waist the next day.

"Fucking hell!" Kaz snarled between his teeth, feeling your flesh throb around him, squeezing he with such desperation that he knew you were close.

You sobbed, tears streaming down the corners of your eyes as you pushed your ass towards him, trying to bring him as deep as possible, as deep inside you as possible. But every time his pelvis smashed into your ass, a loud moan and the feeling of being completely full drowned you.

You begged, pleaded, for something you didn't know. But Kaz seemed to know. Taking both hands to your hips, your pace became even more unperturbed, pushing you to the limit until you cum in a scream in his name, your lungs on fire. Kaz came close behind, sinking as deep as possible and pouring all the hot liquid into you. Almost like a brand.

The air was filled with sex, lust and desire, filled only by the sound of their ragged breaths that struggled to stabilize.

You were still panting when Kaz's voice came after you: "Whatever I want, don't I?"

A deal with the devil.

[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

[messers-moony]

Tomorrow | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: James is nervous to marry Lily so he asks his best friend how he managed to marry his wife.

A/N: I know that this is vote number one instead of number two (which won) however, I decided to scrap what I had for number two because it wasn’t good. This is better and I’ll continue to rewrite number two until it’s to my standards. I hope you understand.

His hands were sweaty. He was nervously pulling his hair which received multiple slaps from his best friend for ruining his hair. James stepped foot in the full-length mirror readjusting his bow tie while Sirius stood behind him, chuckling at his nervous best friend.

James sighed, “How’d you do it, Pads?”

“Mm?”

“How did you marry Y/n?”

Sirius chuckled, “Have you turned daft?”

James tilted his head in confusion, “You were my best man! You were there the entire time.” Sirius replied playfully.

“No, no, I mean, how did you really do it? Like step on the altar and marry her?”

“I just did?” Sirius answered, and James gave him a look, “Bullshit.”

“Okay, fine! Fine!” Sirius relented, “I was practically shitting myself. Y/n means a lot to me, ya’ know?”

James was silent, letting his best friend rant about his wife, “Y/n means everything to me. She’s been with me through thick and thin. There’s nothing more I wanted than to marry her even if it was in the midst of this war.”

“You’ve been chasing Lily for years, mate. I can promise you that she wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t really want to.” Sirius assured.

“You’re sure?” James inquired insecurely, “I’m one hundred percent sure.”

A knock resonated on the door with a soft voice on the other side, “It’s just me!”

The female voice on the other side of the door walked in, styled h/c hair and makeup placed upon her face. She was greeted with Sirius, and a hug pulled tightly into his chest. She saw James looking at them nervously, and she let go of Sirius to hug James tightly.

“You’re going to be okay? I promise.” She stated, pulling apart to look at his hazel eyes, “Lily loves you. Godric, she loves you more than anything!”

“Thanks, Y/n.” James smiled softly, and Y/n pulled her lips to his ear to whisper, “Lily’s liked you since second year.”

James and Y/n laughed as they pulled apart, “But that stays between us!”

“Oi!” Sirius interjected playfully, “Taking my wife, are you?”

“Never.” James replied smiling, all nerves having left, “Thank you both for being here. Seriously it means a lot to me.”

They smiled, “Anytime.”

Someone cracked open the door and spoke, “We need the maid of honor and the best man so we can start.”

“Suppose that’ll be us?” Sirius questioned teasingly, “I think so.” Y/n smiled.

Y/n kissed James’ cheek, “You’ll do fine, and we’ll see you soon.”

“Of course, Mrs.Black.”

Sirius wrapped his arm around Y/n as they walked out to the aisle and altar. Sirius took his spot on the right and Y/n on the left. Smiling at each other from the side, remembering what it was like only a few months ago when they got married. When Lily was in the maid of honor spot and James was in the best man spot. Now roles were reversed.

James stepped out, gaining a reassuring smile from them both. Lily following not too far after with her father. James and Lily looked like lovesick puppies. It was adorable. Vows were exchanged, and tears were shed, especially from James and Lily. On the alter, someone took pictures of the four of them together. Sirius told an absurd joke making them all laugh. A picture was taken at the exact moment.

It was nice. Y/n and Sirius sat at a table together. His arm was around her shoulders as they watched their best friends dance together and laugh together. Sirius took the clips out of his wife’s hair and scratched her scalp, causing her to move into his hand. Multiple hours of clips in Y/n’s hair gave her headache, and Sirius was relieving it.

“Feel nice, love?”

“Yes, these bloody clips. Make sure you save them. I’m going to throw them at Lily later.” Y/n stated, and Sirius chuckled, “Mhm, okay.”

Hours later, James and Lily began to act like fools. Y/n picked up one of the clips from the table, aiming precisely with some help from Sirius - a former Quidditch Beater - and threw it at her. At first, she didn’t notice, but after the third one, she did. The smile on her face was unmistakable.

Lily picked up the three clips and turned toward her maid of honor with her hair down completely. Another one was thrown at her, and Lily laughed loudly. Then one was thrown at Y/n and Sirius. Fortunately, Lily threw it and missed Y/n completely, instead hitting Sirius right in the face. James, Lily, and Y/n were laughing like the only people in the building.

“Oi!” Sirius yelled, “Control your wife, Prongs!”

Y/n stood up, reaching a hand out for Sirius, “C’mon Siri. Let’s go join them.”

Sirius smirked and took her hand, joining their best friend dancing together, jumping around like fifth-year Gryffindors in the common room. They looked like complete idiots, but that didn’t matter. Lily and Y/n holding hands, twirling each other around, laughing together. James and Sirius began to throw the clips at each other. Remus and Peter were on the side watching the idiots.

Lily and Y/n traded. Y/n danced with James, and Lily danced with Sirius. The girls could remember back in sixth year complaining about their boyfriends in the girl's dorms but always remembering that they love their idiots. When the night was over, just the four of them at Godrics Hollow, they just laughed the night away.

“So, Mrs.Potter, how’s it feel?” Y/n teased, “Surprisingly, it feels great.” Lily replied.

“How about you, Mrs.Black?”

“Being married to Sirius is a dream.” Y/n joked, “No, no, but in all seriousness, he’s delightful, sweeter than I imagined.”

Lily’s eyebrows quirked, “What’s he like?”

“Perfect?” Y/n replied, “Does laundry, cooks, cleans, makes my coffee every morning before order stuff?”

“Mother of Merlin! I never would’ve expected-“ Lily exclaimed, “I know! It’s crazy!” Y/n interrupted.

“We got lucky, didn’t we?”

“Indeed we did, sister.”

They clinked their glasses of firewhiskey together. Both girls finally married, finally together. Lily and Y/n hit the motherload with their husbands. Both were gentlemen and chivalry experts. Both girls fell asleep together on the couch, leaving both boys to bring them to bed. Sirius and Y/n in the guest bedroom. James and Lily in their bedroom.

The following morning the four of them woke up. Lily and Y/n were making breakfast while the two men tried to help despite having no knowledge of cooking. Two hours later, breakfast was made and being eaten at the dinner table. Clinks of forks and sounds of chewing were the only sounds coming from the table.

Until Sirius spoke up, “So, how was yesterday, newlyweds?”

“Perfect.” James answered, Sirius then turned to Lily, “Despite everything going on, I think we really needed it.”

Y/n nodded, “Completely agree. It was nice to let loose for a couple of hours.”

The conversation then went quiet, “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.” Said James solemnly.

“Yesterday was great, but what we don’t know is the future, and I know that right now it’s a dark time. It’s probably one of the lowest points I’ve been in my life. My parents being terribly sick, the Dark Lord on the rise supposedly. Everything seems to be going in a downhill spiral.”

“But for the first time in months, yesterday I felt like a first-year at Hogwarts performing my first prank. I felt like that second-year who blew up Y/n’s cauldron for fun. The third-year who decided it’d be a brilliant idea to dye Sirius’ hair pink.” James stated as everyone laughed, “Let’s just say I didn’t have hair for a week.” He murmured.

“Fourth year when I stole Remus’ book, and he nearly killed me. Fifth-year, when I turned into an animagus for Moony. Sixth year when Lily finally decided to give me a chance. Seventh year when we blew up fireworks in the Great Hall for the graduating class of 1978.”

“Not knowing what tomorrow brings leaves us anxious and nervous. But there’s one thing I’m sure of.” James informed, “That if anything ever happens to me, just know, that every second we’ve spent together, every memory we have together, I hold them close to my heart. They all mean something to me. Even if it’s as simple as sitting in the common room together.”

“James-“

“I’m not finished.” He interrupted, “This is a scary time, but I’ve always been certain of one thing, that thing is you guys. You guys have always been constants in my life. Always been there for me through thick and thin. Sirius being my brother, Lily being my wife, and Y/n being the little sister I never got and my shoulder to cry on.”

Y/n chuckled, “Hey!”

“I still love you.” James replied teasingly through his tears, and she smiled, “I know, Prongs.”

“I’ll eventually have to repeat the same speech to Moony and Wormtail, but for right now, I haven’t felt happier. I wanted to say all of this at the wedding, but Lily didn’t want to dampen anyone’s mood, which I understand. Yesterday was a breath of fresh air for what’s to come.”

“But tomorrow, we will all go back to our Order missions and meetings. One thing I can be sure of is that I can always trust you guys, through and through. If for some reason something happens to me, just know I love you guys.”

“We love you too, James.” Lily replied.

Sirius sniffled and smiled through his teary eyes, “Nothing will happen to you guys. Not with me here. You guys have given me too much to let you guys go without a fight.”

“And that’s why we love you, Padfoot.” James stated, smiling at him.

“Everything will be okay. We’ll get through this.” Y/n said with hopeful optimism that would always brighten her friend's days.

[adarlingwrites]

Leave it to the Wind

Summary: Between deadlines, an awful transport system, and aswangs lurking about in the shadows, you have much to worry about as a college student in Manila, and it's so much that your social life is practically dead. Your wind people roommates want to help you remedy that.

Words: 9343

Relationships: The Kambal/Reader (Crispin/Reader/Basilio)

Warnings: Adult content, alcohol, brief scene of sexual harassment

Author’s Notes: God, the fandom is so thirsty for the Kambal, and so am I. Finally, some Filipino himbo representation.

The premise is: Hannah and Amie decides to play matchmaker. Hilarity ensues. Smut ensues. Please be nice, I based the characterizations of the character on the Netflix series and Trese wiki pages since I couldn't get my hands on the original comics yet oof. Some words, like terms of endearment and curse words, will remain in Filipino. Translations are provided. Reader is AFAB and is referred to with female pronouns.

Reposting this from AO3 with all three chapters in one post. A Filipino (Taglish) translation is in the works!

I

You don’t know how they managed to convince you, to be honest.

You rarely ever go out at night anymore. So many strange incidents transpire in Manila’s narrow streets. Just recently, you’ve heard of a new story about a tikbalang who allegedly participated in illegal street races.

So when your roommates and friends Amie and Hannah invited you for a night out, you hesitated. You gave them every excuse you can think of; you needed to do laundry, you needed to study, you needed to finish a project, and so on.

You know that the two of them are wind people, but you can’t help but think. Which of the various stories you had been hearing are real? What else in this world you haven’t witnessed yet?

“Aw, you’re such a buzzkill! Pretty please? You don’t go out with us as often. Enjoy yourself a little,” Amie whines, lying on the sofa of your living room.

On the other hand, Hannah turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face. “C’mon, get dressed already,” she commanded. “There are some total hotties we’d like you to meet! One of them might catch your eye!”

“I told you, I don’t need a relationship. You two try this every week. How do you even know so many people?” you retort, laughing softly at yourself.

“Well, our night lives are active,” Hannah retorted. “Don’t forget our sex lives!” the other added. Hearing those words, you felt your face get flushed with heat.

You needed a good fuck.

“Damn it, fine! As long as you pay for me.”

They finally got you to say yes.

As the night went on, you went to several bars, and you swore that you had explored every crevice of the city. It doesn’t help that the guy Amie and Hannah were with, a tall, dark and handsome man with flowing locks of black hair, drove like a demon. You got around quickly in no time.

Around an hour after midnight, you’re all exhausted from a night of dancing and mingling. None of the people your friends introduced to you caught your attention. At that point, you just wanted a stiff drink to unwind.

Voicing it to your drinking buddies, they nod in agreement.

“I know just the place, in Malate,” the man you’re with said. “Quiet. Discreet. I can take you there, if you want.”

“You mean The Diabolical, right? Let’s go! Text Crispin and Basilio, they might be hangin’ there too,” Amie croons.

A chuckle escapes your lips upon hearing their names. “Huh? Were they named after the characters in Jose Rizal’s novel?”

“I think so? Whatever! But seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!”

The remark made you laugh so hard, you swore you can be heard in the next city. “What the fuck! Amie, gaga ka, Sisa was their mom! The context of that scene was rough.”

Hannah’s mischievous grin spreads on her face once more, and she gently elbows your side. “Well, if you’re lucky, in this context you’d be crying their names while your eyes roll to the back of your head.”

You’ll never admit it, but you had hoped all their teasing would come true.

It didn’t take long for the four of you to reach your destination. As you enter The Diabolical, a strange chill envelopes you. The air feels different inside; it’s almost as if you stepped in a different world. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but when you looked around, you saw a duwende sitting by the bar. Or was it called a nuno? At the end of the bar, you saw them; two men both dressed in black suits. One has short hair, while the other one has longer, reaching past his shoulders. However, they’re facing away from you. Only the back of their head and part of their cheeks were visible where you stood.

You snapped out of it when the man you three are with spoke up. “I’m gonna call it a night. Have fun, you three.”

“For real? Wow Maliksi, this is the first time I ever saw you wanting to leave early. Aren’t you gonna stop by and say hi to Alex?” Hannah asks him.

“Maybe next time,” Maliksi answers back, a somber expression on his face. “Oh em gee, did you two fight? Wait, what are you two?” Amie asks.

“Whatever. It’s complicated. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your friends nodded and let Maliksi be. He waves at your group, and heads out the door. The engine of his car roars to life, and his car screeches away.

As the car moved farther away though, it seems that the screeching of the tires turned into hoofbeats.

Perhaps it’s just your imagination.

“Amie! Hannah! Have a drink! Hey, who’s that with you? Is that the person you’ve been wanting us to meet for ages now?”

Your head turns to where the voice was coming from; one of the men in the suits, the one with short hair in particular. You finally had a good look on their faces.

Twins?

“Crispin! Meet our friend! This is…”

As Amie and Hannah introduce you to the Twins, you can’t help but stare. You took the sight of their features in; they’re tall, with broad shoulders, and hard muscle underneath that black suit and white tie ensemble. They have wide noses with a high bridge, prominent bone structure, and a prominent widow’s peak.

Merciful Bathala, they’re gorgeous.

What caught your attention the most are their eyes. They're pitch black, save for the small reflection of light.

Are these people even human?

“Stare at them like that any longer and they might melt,” Amie teases. The two of your friends are giving you an ear-splitting grin due to your reaction to the Twins.

“I, uh-” you stuttered, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t be shy. You can sit between us, miss. We’re all friends here,” the twin with the longer hair says. If the other one is Crispin, then this must be Basilio.

Behind you, your friends are already giggling. They took their places next to the twins and leaned on their biceps. Across from you, the bartender comes to take your order.

“What’ll it be, kid?” he asks.

For some reason, you’re panicking. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it’s because you’re sandwiched between the twins. “Uh, what would you recommend, manong?”

Laughter erupted from the twins. “Hank, she called you manong!” Basilio teases while grinning like a fucking dog. “Geez, are you really that old?” Crispin eggs him on, giving him a shit-eating grin. Hank takes a wet rag he uses to wipe down the countertop and strikes the two down. “You goddamn assholes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing with them.

“Ow! Alright, we’re sorry, we’re sorry. Get them the best seller, Hank. We’ll pay for their tab,” Basilio says, and Hannah and Amie squeals with joy.

“Oh em gee, you boys are so sweet! Thank youuu!”

As Hank prepares you a drink, you try conversing with the twins. “You two seem fun to have as drinking buddies.”

Hank turns around to reach a bottle from the shelf. “Those two are mischievous little shits, that’s for sure. You know, when these two were kids...”

“Hey man, don’t embarrass us like that in front of our new friend,” Crispin whines.

While the three continues fucking around, you leaned back slightly to glimpse at Amie, who was trying to get your attention for a while now. She points to her phone, and you fetch yours from your bag.

You read your group chat with them. “Soooo, do you like, like them?” Hannah’s message said.

“You’re into them aren’t you? You got so shy around them, it’s so cute!” Amie’s message said.

“Right? It’s rare to see you so flustered!”

You typed away furiously at your phone, cautious to not let the twins beside you see the conversation.

“Well, they’re an improvement from the ones you introduced me to earlier. Easier on the eyes, too…”

Your friends giggled, and as their drinks arrived, they stood up. “Girl, we’re gonna leave you with them, there’s some super hot tikbalangs who just came in the bar. Byeeee!”

“Hey, wait!”

They didn’t heed your words and went to sit on the tikbalangs’ laps.

Fuck, tikbalangs are real? Is Maliksi a tikbalang too?

“And off they go, flirting with those beasts after they’ve used us for drinks,” Crispin laments, voice dripping with light-hearted sarcasm.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we got used by them though,” Basilio adds, cringing.

You can’t help but laugh.  “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

Basilio’s head whips towards you, sweat gathering on his brow. “Seriously?! Shit, what did they say about us?”

“All good things, don’t you worry,” you answered.

“Nah, I need to hear what they said word for word,” the twin with long hair responds. “This is making me paranoid!”

Crispin moves closer to you, Basilio puts a friendly arm around your shoulder, and you can only smile. All of you are inebriated and if you were sober, and if someone else dared to get this close to you, you might’ve slapped them. But you feel good about the Twins, and your roommates never put you in harm’s way, so your trust for them extended to the brothers, somehow.

“Just tell us already,” Crispin slurs. “Tell us what they said about us. We’re curious.”

“Fine, fine. Okay, Amie and Hannah mentioned your names when Maliksi suggested that we head here to drink. Then, I mentioned that your names came from Rizal’s novels.”

“Then Amie said,” you continued, pausing briefly to come up with an impression of your roommate’s speech. “‘Seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!’ Fuck, it was so messed up!”

“That’s messed up, alright,” Basilio sputters, his face a deep shade of crimson. “I’m this hot and those are the only details they can spare?!”

“Ok, but that Sisa joke was kind of funny though. But it was still fucked up,” Crispin adds, and he takes a sip of his drink.

“Hold your horses, the story’s not done yet,” you say. You’re starting to feel more confident around the two.

Your conversation went places, until you found yourselves drinking until three in the morning, and at that point, it’s only just the four of you in the bar; Hank, the Twins, and you. Even Hannah and Amie are nowhere to be seen. Knowing them, they probably took the tikbalangs they were flirting with back to your apartment.

They didn’t even wait for you. Looks like they’re really setting you up tonight. Maybe they wanted the apartment to themselves tonight, and they got exactly what they wanted.

You had planned on getting up to go to the restroom, but when you tried standing up, you almost fell from the chair. The Twins caught you before you landed face first against the floor.

“She’s had enough to drink,” Hank comments. They set you on a chair with a backrest. “How will she get home? We can’t send her off in a cab at this rate. The train doesn't run this late either.”

“Hannah left her behind too,” Crispin adds.

“Hey, how are we gonna deal with this?” Basilio asks. “We can get you home once we sober up a little. It’s fine if you-”

Basilio never got to finish what he was going to say, because you nodded off against his stomach, and puked your lunch out.

You don’t remember anything after that.

When you awaken, the sun is already high up, and the first thing that greets you is the fan in the ceiling. Your muscles are screaming at you, and your throat feels dry. Memories of last night came crashing back and you started sweating in horror. Maybe it’s just a drunken dream, but it felt all too real.

You were flirting with these gorgeous twins, had too much to drink, and at some point puked all over one of the twins’ shoes.

And now, you don’t know whose bedroom you are in. You check yourself, and you’re still wearing the same clothes, with nothing out of place. There are no bruises or marks on your body either. You looked around you, but there was no one else in the room.

The doors crack open slightly, and you see two pairs of void-black eyes.

“I… um… good morning?”

“It’s… already 2 in the afternoon,” one of them says. He has long hair. This one is the twin you threw up on.

“Why don’t you have some lunch?” the other one said.

You just nodded and said nothing else, ashamed of yourself. You threw up on one of them and now you’re eating at their table. You just wanted the ground to swallow you alive.

“Sorry for puking on you last night,” you near-whispered to Basilio after you swallowed your first bite of food.

The silence broke when Crispin roared with laughter, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Meanwhile, Basilio was glaring daggers at his brother. He’s frowning like a child whose toy got taken from him. “Sure, keep laughing, kuya.”

“I’ll never show my face here again, I promise,” you say to them, hiding your face behind your hands.

“What’re you talking about? Forget about it. We’re friends now, right?” Basilio tells you, smiling. “But next time, vomit on my brother too.”

“No one’s throwing up because I won’t be allowing any of you to get wasted that bad ever again,” Hank announces as he enters the room with a carafe in his hand. “Bossing’s not gonna like it if the bar ends up smelling as bad as Basilio’s room. Here, have some coffee.”

“We should introduce you to bossing next time too. She’s not here at the moment,” Crispin adds. “Let’s do this again next week.”

The invitation made you smile, and you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You continued eating the rest of your meal.

“...my room doesn’t smell that, right?” Basilio asks after a few moments of silence.

“Gago, it stinks so bad. It’s why we made the guest stay at my room, because if she stayed at yours she could’ve died from how bad it is,” Crispin exclaims. “Seriously, how can you live with bringing women to your room at that point?”

“Kuya, you’re embarrassing me to our guest!”

Translations for non-Filipino speaking folks:

bossing: a somewhat affectionate way to say “boss”. Comes from the old tradition of adding -eng or -ing to ones name to make a nickname, e.g. Luciana - Lucing

Gago/gaga (ka): (you) idiot/moron - someone stupid, foolish or ignorant

Tikbalang: creature from Filipino mythology similar to a centaur. They are hulking beasts with a horse's head.

manong: a term for endearment to an elderly male relative, or elderly men in general. Originally an Ilokano term referring to the first born son in a nuclear family.

kuya: big brother. Can be used to refer to one's own older brother, someone else's older brother, or an older peer or male acquaintance.

II

Author’s Notes: This chapter was heavily inspired by Bita and the Botflies' song Manghuhula.

Warnings: brief scene of sexual harrassment

After washing up, the Twins accompanied you to the gate, exchanging glances at each other behind your back. Little did they know, you definitely noticed it.

“Wait,” Basilio says, tapping your shoulder lightly with a large hand.

Crispin takes his phone out of his pocket. His younger brother proceeds to do the same. “Give us your phone. We’ll add our numbers, and you can text us if something happens,” he says.

“Or when you get home safe,” Basilio adds.

You look at the two of them back and forth. “This isn’t just an elaborate excuse for the two of you to get my number, right?”

Neither of the two spoke, giving each other a nervous glance.

Their reaction made you laugh out loud, and you took out your phone from your bag. “Here. I’ll give you my Facespace too.”

With the tension broken, the three of you exchange a chuckle. You punch in your number in their phones, while they did the same to yours. Crispin looks over his brother’s shoulder and frowns.

“Epal,” Crispin says to his brother, snatching your phone away from him. The older twin types something in, and it’s the younger one’s turn to stick his nose in. Basilio attempts to get the phone back, cursing all the time.

“You’re going to break her phone, gago,” the older twin curses, pushing a palm against Basilio’s face. “Then let it go! You’re the epal, I wasn’t done yet,” the younger one snaps back.

You give them a look of irritation, and check out what they’re arguing about.

“What the hell are you two grown-ass men fighting about?” you ask as you butt in to look at what they’re doing.

A loud snort bubbles from you as you see it; Basilio added “the hot twin” next to his contact name. Crispin added “the hotter twin”. Now, the former wanted to outdo his older brother.

Against your better judgment, you say, “You’re twins. You look like each other. You’re both hot. Now stop fighting over my phone.”

Perhaps it’s the afternoon heat, but there is a tinge of red in their cheeks after your remark. You waved them goodbye as you got in a tricycle that’ll get you to the nearest train station.

The MRT, in some strange miraculous twist of fate, isn’t as packed as usual. It’s still populated, but there were a few seats waiting to be taken. You sit down somewhere away from direct sunlight, and you take out your phone to tell Hannah and Amie that you’re on the way home.

The first thing you see is a text from Basilio. Then, a text from Crispin. You tell them both that you’re on the train now, completely forgetting about messaging your roommates. To pass the time, you launch the Facespace app and decide to look up their profiles, only to find out that they’ve already sent you a friend request.

Upon seeing Crispin’s profile, you did your damn best to stifle a laugh.

His work description says “works at the Krusty Krab,” but that wasn’t the craziest thing about his profile. At first, the Bible verse in his bio caught you off guard, thinking that someone like him didn’t seem religious, but when you quickly looked up “Ezekiel 23:20,” you did your best not to howl with laughter.

Basilio’s isn’t any better.

In his work description, he put “Model at For Her Magazine,” and “edi sa puso mo.” Then you scroll down to see a thirst trap of him pulling his shirt up with his teeth, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again. Well, at least that work description is believable.

They’re- what was that term your younger university friends were using again?- himbos.

They’re definitely himbos.

Arriving at your place, you slot your key inside the doorknob and twist. As you enter the door, the heavy, musky scent of sex and sweat hits your face, and you regret getting too wasted last night and losing your chance to hook up with one of the Twins.

Or both.

Both?

Regardless, at least they’ve invited you again to hang out next week.

You raise your eyebrow and cross your arms at the scene before you. Cans of beer litter the living room, and your roommates are taking a nap by the couch. A tikbalang comes out of the bathroom, glamor off, and you snort as you watch him duck under the door frame because of his massive height.

“It’s already four in the afternoon. Time to go, big guy.”

He nods awkwardly in acknowledgment, morphing into his human disguise, and exiting your apartment.

You sit between your roommates, rousing them from their sleep. “I’m not going to clean this mess up,” you tell them, motioning to the trashed state of the living room, and reaching for the remote to turn the TV on. You just want to take a shower afterwards and sleep in your own bed tonight.

After rubbing the sleep from their eyes, your roommates near-tackles you on the couch, a curious, excited look on their faces. You forgot all about what you were watching and stared at them in surprise.

“So how did it go? Did you get to hook up with any of them?” Amie asks.

“Or both of them?” Hannah adds.

“Gaga, nothing like that happened.”

The two of them let you go with disappointed looks on their faces. “So sayang! Here we were thinking you finally have a sex life,” one of them says as you lean back on the backrest, closing your eyes as they continue to pester you for details.

“Why are you two so determined to get me to screw someone?” you finally snapped, amused and irked at the same time.

“Because you’ve been doing nothing but totally stressing yourself out! See how super fun it is to let go every now and then?”

“Thanks for the new drinking buddies, girls, but I have my fingers to keep me company. Hookups are too much work,” you lie to them, eyes still closed.

“That’s a toe-curling, full-body orgasm you’re missing out on, girl!”

“That’s assuming that the person I’m with knows what they’re doing,” you retorted.

One of them pokes your side with an elbow, and you assume it’s Hannah. “The Twins do.”

You opened your eyes, and you guessed right; it’s Hannah. You give her a look, before rolling your eyes, appearing to look disinterested. The smirk tugging at the edge of your lips says otherwise, though.

“So what happened last night?” Amie asks.

“I got wasted and threw up on Basilio’s shoes. Then, I ended up sleeping in Crispin’s room. When I woke up, they fed me and sent me home,” you tell them. Your roommates giggle at the story.

“Ah, speaking of which, I gotta let them know I got home,” you said off-hand, and somehow the remark only spurred your wind people roommates on.

“Yieee, you’re friends with them on Facespace already!” Amie quips, leaning in to see what you’re typing. Playfully, you move your phone away from her to conceal what you’re typing.

“Make a group chat with them!” Hannah exclaims, taking your phone away from you. You tried taking it back, but Amie joins in the mischief and blocks you from doing so.

When you got your phone back, the deed was done, and the chat was renamed to a single eggplant emoji. The like button was replaced by an eggplant emoji too.

Panicking, you add your roommates to the group to avoid looking suspicious, and swiftly type up a defense.

“Please ignore that, Hannah made this chat using my account.”

The teasing never stopped after that.

Weeks passed and you never bothered to change it, though.

It’s been about two months since your first encounter with the Twins. You’re becoming a familiar face at The Diabolical, going every Saturday to see them. Sometimes Hannah and Amie didn’t accompany you anymore. You’ve met the Twins’ bossing a few times, who turned out to be none other than Alexandra Trese. You’ve heard of her exploits and the two imposing bodyguards who were almost always with her. It surprised you that they’re none other than the Twins you knew, but it made perfect sense. Those two were jacked, and those muscles aren’t only for show.

Of course, because of your increasing presence in the bar, it didn’t take long for the rumors to circulate. Word on the street is both of the Twins had a thing for you, and neither is making a move out of consideration for the other. They are waiting for you to move.

You elected to ignore them, perfectly happy with your arrangement of having two handsome men to keep you company while you unwind. The thought of getting together with one of them, or even both of them did cross your mind a few times, however.

Ultimately, you wouldn’t know what to do if the day comes that you’ll have to confront how you feel and choose between the two.

Do you have to?

Crispin and Basilio are twins, but they’re distinct from each other. The older is more serious, with a dryer sense of humor, while the younger is goofier, and somewhat softer. One complements the other, and they’re both good company despite their differences.

Speak of the devil. Your phone buzzes and you see that the eggplant chat is active. The Twins are inviting you to The Diabolical again.

“See you guys at eight,” you type in. Someone reacts with an eggplant to your message. Then the next few messages were nothing but eggplant emojis, followed by Basilio sending “#TeamTalong”. Crispin cusses him out for it, but sends the same message right after.

Yeah, that became a thing among the five of you.

You and the wind girls got dressed and took a taxi to the bar, your favorite jacket draped over your shoulders. Pressured by your roommates, you wore something nicer tonight; a black faux leather dress that hugs your figure deliciously. The shiny fabric added to the effect. The six bottles of Pulang Tikbalang beer the three of you shared before going out might’ve contributed to your newfound bravado.

But now that you’re actually wearing it outside your apartment, you feel a little reluctant.

“Maybe wearing this is a bad idea,” you mutter to no one in particular, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear out of self-consciousness.

Amie taps you from behind. “Oh hush, that outfit is totally sexy,” she comments. “Finally ready to get dicked down tonight, girl?”

“Shhh, gaga ka, manong driver can hear you.”

That didn’t deter them from making more inappropriate comments, much to the manong's ire.

It’s nine already when you get there, you’re in the Philippines after all. The merriment is already in full swing when you step through the door. Hannah and Amie went ahead and sat next to their lay of the week. The Twins wave you over from their usual spot, but before you can reach them, a man you’ve never seen before tries to get your attention, snaking an arm around your waist.

“Hey baby. You’re a regular here, right? Want to drink with me?”

“Sorry, I’m here with someone else,” you tell him, moving away.

“Ah, here to see the Twins? Why don’t you ditch them for a change of pace and come with me, babe?”

“Not interested,” you flat out said. “Please move, or I’ll make you move.”

To your surprise, the man drops his glamor and reveals himself to be a kapre. He looms over you, cigar in his mouth, and you can feel the tension rising. People are starting to stare, and your friends took notice of it too.

“Try,” he huffs, puffing smoke to your face. You give him a sour glare while trying not to cough.

Before your roommates or the Twins could come to your aid, you panicked and saw an empty bottle of Pulang Tikbalang on a nearby table. Emboldened by the alcohol in your veins, you shatter the bottle and point the jagged edge at the hulking beast, hands shaking. You are a tiny thing compared to the enormous creature before you, after all.

“Don’t you dare look down on me.”

“Already doing that, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” you say as you press the edge against his stomach, not enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt.

“I love it when they fight back,” the kapre croons.

Under the haze of alcohol, you were more than ready to shove the edge in, consequences be damned.

Before things could escalate, Crispin takes the broken bottle off of your hands and steers you away from the stranger, while Basilio steps in to defuse the tension. “Hey, why don’t you back off, pal? Our friend said no. You wouldn’t want us to tell our bossing to ban you from the place because of this misunderstanding now, don’t you?”

Heart in your throat, you turn to the Twins, then to the kapre. The tree giant pauses, looking at the three of you, then smirks.

“Heh. Fine. But if you torpe whelps don’t make a move, I will.”

The giant puts his glamor back on and skulks away.

“Wow, what a jerk! He only left you alone when the boys stepped in,” Hannah quips, tossing her hair in indignation.

“You almost didn’t need rescuing, but I’d hate to help Hank mop the blood off the floor later,” Basilio comments, nudging you gently with an elbow. His eyes go a little lower from your face, and you see him look away.

You realized Crispin hasn’t let go of you yet.

“C’mon, let’s just go,” you tell everyone. Crispin proceeds to remove his hand away from your shoulder, and you take your usual seats by the bar.

The bar is loud, but the silence between the three of you is deafening. Even Hank seems to have taken notice, eyeing your usually loud and cheerful group.

“What’s up with you three? What happened back there?” the older man asks, leaning over the bar top.

“Just a handsy kapre who couldn’t take no for an answer. I won’t let it spoil the night,” you answer him.

“That’s the spirit. Holler if he tries something like that again, I’ll have him kicked out,” Hank replies, setting down three ice-cold beers in front of you guys.

Yet somehow, the conversation never livened up.

Three bottles of Pulang Tikbalang later, you’ve had enough.

“This is about what that kapre said, isn’t it?” you finally say, slightly pissed.

The Twins look at each other with guilty expressions, and simultaneously nod.

“Do you boys wanna talk about it?”

They look at each other again. “Shit, this is awkward,” Crispin comments, scratching his head. Basilio nods in agreement, uncharacteristically silent. “We didn’t want to pressure you into anything you didn’t want to do,” the older twin continues.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin my relationship with my kuya just because we’re interested in the same girl,” Basilio says. “Same here,” Crispin adds.

“So we were waiting for you to make your own move,” Basilio continues.

“Ah. So the rumors are true,” you sighed.

“We’ll accept whatever outcome there is. If you choose me, or Basilio, or neither because this is fucking messy, we totally get it,” the older twin says, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

Now the decision rests in your hands.

“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere more private?” you ask them.

You watch as both of them gulp. “Where do you wanna talk?” Basilio asks.

“Anywhere private.”

“I just cleaned my room earlier. Why don’t we continue this there?”

You nod, and they lead you away from the bar.

Looks like it’s going to be a long night.

Translations for non-Filipino speakers:

epal: in Filipino slang, usually refers to a person who inappropriately presents himself in a situation or butts into a conversation.

kapre: a tree-giant from Filipino mythology. Often described as very tall, dark, and hairy. Almost never seen without a cigar.

sayang: literally means waste. Can be used alone as an expression similar to "what a waste!"

torpe: someone who cannot spit their romantic or sexual feelings out to a crush or love interest

III

Author’s Notes:

Warnings: Smut. Filthy smut. Writer-is-definitely-going-to-the-second-circle-of-the-Seven-Circles-of-Hell-levels-of-filthy smut. Bawal bata, tulog na. If you're under 18 please turn back.

After the door closes behind the three of you, you sit on the bed, while Crispin sits on a chair near his brother’s desk. Basilio locks the door, and leans against it, unable to look at you.

“Right. So. How are we going to deal with this?” you ask them, crossing your legs.

“Don’t ask us,” Crispin says, swiveling the chair to face you. “You’re the one caught in the middle after all.”

Curse his choice of words.

“This is too weird,” Basilio speaks up. “If you want me to unlock the door, just say the word. We can walk out of this like nothing happened.”

“And then what? Things are going to be awkward between the three of us, I just know it,” you say to him, palming the back of your neck. “Things might get awkward with Amie and Hannah too, and I live with them. I don’t want our tropa to disband just because of relationship drama.”

“What about Amie and Hannah? Is it because we have history with those two?” Crispin asks.

“They’ve been trying to set me up with either of you. The fact that they also slept with you in the past also doesn’t help. Shit, this is messy.”

“Er, um,” Basilio stutters. “That might’ve been our fault.”

You furrow your brow and cross your arms. “Keep going.”

The Twins look at each other, as if gauging who should explain the situation. “So, we remained in contact after being used as a prize for bossing’s race with Maliksi, right?” Crispin starts.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, they mentioned a third roommate in passing and joked about lending us to her. Of course we blew them off, then Amie showed us a picture of you. We got curious and asked them to introduce you,” Basilio continues.

“I didn’t expect us five to become friends. And now we’re in this mess,” Crispin adds.

You look at them back and forth, and laugh in resignation. Elbows digging against your lap and palms pressed against your face, you rub your face and run it through your hair. “Amazing. Just amazing. See, I have a problem too.”

The Twins didn’t respond, eyes fixated on you.

“I like the two of you.”

You feel the air shift around you. Basilio’s standing upright by the door now, and Crispin straightened up too. The room is so quiet, you can hear them gulp in anticipation for what will happen next.

“There. I said it. The reason why I haven’t made a move at all is because of this exact moment that I was dreading. I didn’t want to choose,” you admit, feeling the blood rush to your head. “I just wanted for us three to stay like that, drinking buddies sprinkled with sexual tension.”

“And you’re in the middle, enjoying our attention,” Crispin says, crossing his arms.

“Selfish, I know,” you admit, head hanging low.

This is it, the moment that can make or break you three.

“Us three. If only...” you whisper, only for the words to fall flat on your tongue

You stand up, gathering your things and carrying your bag. “Nevermind. What a mess we’re in. I’ll go so you two can sort things out between the two of you. It’s been a fun ride.”

Basilio doesn’t move from the door, and behind you, you can hear Crispin getting up from his seat.

“We can still make this work, right kuya?” Basilio starts, looking over your head to give his brother a knowing look.

“Yeah, I think so,” Crispin replies. “What was that you said? The three of us?”

Your eyes widen, and you look at them back and forth. Their bodies are dangerously close to yours. Now you’re literally caught in the middle.

“I- uh…”

“I think we can work out an arrangement,” Basilio whispers, one hand moving to hold yours.

“Only if you want to,” Crispin adds, his breath kissing the back of your neck.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” Basilio adds.

“Same here.”

Damn it all.

Giving in to your darkest, most hidden desires, you lean in to capture Basilio’s lips with yours, leaving his black eyes wide open in surprise. They flutter close, and he savors the kiss, slipping a tongue in. Then you turn to Crispin, and you give him the same sweet kiss as well.

“Damn, I didn’t mean like, now,” Basilio mutters, feeling the front of his trousers get tighter as he watches you make out with his brother.

Bringing your attention back to the younger twin, you loosen his tie, while you push out your ass to grind against Crispin. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.”

“Wait, are you sure about this? All of us drank tonight… we don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Crispin says, moving his hips away from you. Basilio pauses too, and wraps his hands around your wrists to still your hands, a look of concern on his face.

“Kuya’s right.”

“I’m a grown woman. I might’ve had a few bottles, but I know what I want,” you reassure them, waiting for the two to make a move. “I know I want you two for months.”

Basilio lets go of your hands and lets you do as you please, a cocky smirk on his lips. Behind you, you can feel Crispin’s gloved hands reaching for the zipper of your dress. “Really? How much do you want us? C’mon, say it,” Basilio asks, moving in to place kisses on your neck.

“I wanna hear it too,” Crispin whispers against your shoulder, and he punctuates it with a light kiss.

All of a sudden, you felt shy at the prospect of confessing your fantasies out loud. “Why don’t I just show you boys?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one,” Basilio teases. “Consider it as payback for throwing up all over my shoes.”

“You’re still- ah!- mad about that?” you ask him, gasping in the middle of doing so when you felt a hand snake between your legs from behind. The older twin slips his fingers past your underwear, circling your clit with slow strokes.

“Not mad, I just want things to be fair,” Basilio teases, pulling your dress down. He gives your breasts a squeeze, fondling and rolling your nipples until they harden, and he seals his lips over your right one. Crispin moves from behind you and he takes his place next to his twin, lathing his tongue over the left. All four of their hands pawed at your flesh greedily.

You were at a loss for words because of how good they’re making you feel, soft moans bubbling from your throat.

“Speechless already, huh?” Crispin mumbles against your skin.

“Ngh! The wind girls weren’t lying, you two know what you’re doing,” you gasped, face flushed as you watched the Twins lavish their attention on your breasts.

“Shhh, stop changing the subject. Play along, or neither of us will make you cum,” he adds, pausing to give you a teasing lick, and resting his tongue on top of the hardened bud. On the other hand, Basilio is sucking like a starved babe while squeezing your still clothed behind.

You fake a scoff of indignation and grin. “Fine. I- oh fuck- want you two so much, I’ve been fantasizing for weeks.”

Basilio pauses to address you. “Describe them.”

You’re a little mortified, but the alcohol in your system pushes you to be bolder. “I imagined Basilio punishing me for ruining his shoes.”

“And how did he do that?” Crispin’s voice.

“He asked me to suck him off,” you start, and a pinch on your bottom from the subject of your fantasy tells you that he wanted to hear more details. “He fucked my face while pulling my hair and told me how good I was the whole time and that he forgave me.”

“What about me? What fantasies did you have?” Crispin asks again.

Your breath hitched in your throat but you pushed on. “Hearing how you scolded Basilio, I imagined you taking me from behind and saying the meanest, dirtiest things possible.”

The Twins looked at each other, and stopped, their lips leaving your breasts with a lewd pop. “You want to make them all come true?” Basilio asks.

Cheeks burning, you give them a curt nod.

The two of them lead you to the bed, where Crispin puts you on all fours, and he takes his place from behind. On the other hand, Basilio is standing near the edge of the bed, the bulge in his pants inches away from your face. You stare at it, licking your lips.

As you undid Basilio’s pants, he shrugs off his suit jacket and takes off his tie, then he takes off his dress shirt, revealing his abs and the trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen, disappearing into his briefs. From behind, you hear fabric shifting, then Crispin peels your panties off of you. He brings a gloved hand against your skin in a loud smack, making you cry out.

“Ah, wait, we need a safeword,” Crispin mentions, soothingly squeezing your skin.

“What about Eternos?” Basilio suggests, and Crispin cocks an eyebrow. “Wait, you mean, like the game?”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m fine with it,” you say to them, and they take it as a signal to continue.

The older twin dips a gloved finger between your folds, gathering your wetness, and tsked. “Look at you, already so fucking wet. You want this so much, huh?”

You nod frantically, then Basilio stills your head. “Open your mouth, baby. Tongue out.”

You oblige, and Basilio fishes his cock out of his briefs. Your eyes grow wider as you take in the sight of it; girthy, with a nice length, and a few veins running on the underside. You wonder if Crispin’s is the same. The twin in front of you lightly smacks his member against your tongue, and you proceed to lick it, running from the base to the tip, slicking it with saliva. You swirl your tongue around it, then try to slide it in your mouth as smoothly as possible.

As Basilio begins to breathe harder with each bob of your head, Crispin pulls your ass towards his face, and a choked moan escapes your lips as you feel his mouth on your heat, toying with your folds before he finally finds that sensitive nub. The older twin proceeds to lick and suck at it, eating you out like you’re the best damn meal of his life.

Meanwhile, you push a palm against Basilio’s thigh to make him pause, and before he can ask you if you’re fine, you take his balls in your mouth and fondle him with your tongue. Your hand pumps his neglected cock as you did so.

“Shit! Your mouth feels so damn good,” he hisses, breathing hard. When you take his dick back into your mouth, Basilio gathers your hair and uses it as a handle, watching his length disappear in your mouth over and over, his black eyes hazy with lust and his mouth whispering words of praise.

Crispin looks at his brother with a hint of envy, cock painfully hard against his trousers. He unzips it for relief, and proceeds to stroke himself as he continues to prepare you.

“Hey, Basilio, got any lube?”

“Um, there’s- ungh- a bottle of it under the pillow.”

“...you keep lube under your pillow? What the- and condoms? Can’t you put them in your drawers or something?”

Basilio doesn’t give his brother a response and focuses his attention on you. You gasp against his cock as you felt a cold, gloved hand prod against your asshole, and goosebumps formed on your flesh as you felt the cold lubricant smearing against your entrance. Crispin pushes his lubed thumb in, and you cry out in pleasure, your jaw opening wider for Basilio to claim. Then, two more fingers prod at your pussy, and you swear you can see stars as they slid in. The older twin toys with you while eating you out, and you feel a knot forming at the base of your stomach, threatening to uncoil at any moment.

You couldn’t take it. Basilio’s cock slides out of your mouth and you look over your shoulder, moaning and panting.

Crispin pauses from eating you out to ask you a question. “You’re gonna cum? You wanna cum on my fingers like the filthy slut you are?”

“Yes, please, please, let me cum,” you begged, and with a devilish smirk, Crispin dives right back in to finish the job.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure inside you exploded, shameless moans coming from your throat as your first orgasm hits you. Basilio watches the look of pleasure on your face as Crispin makes you cum, making his cock twitch.

“Now that’s how you please a woman,” Crispin teases, shooting his brother a challenging look while wiping your juices off of his face.

“Wait until it’s my turn,” Basilio replies, smirking.

Panting, legs wobbling, you didn’t get to rest as Crispin takes his cock and slides it in you. In front of you, Basilio cups your face and directs you back to his cock, smirking. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re taking us like a champ, you know that?”

“Fuck,” Crispin hisses from behind you. “You like this, you little slut? You like being fucked by two cocks at the same time?” he asks you, each word punctuated with a hard thrust.

Now you’re really caught in the middle.

Basilio’s panting heavily now, his thrusts becoming erratic against your mouth. You know he’s close, and you brace yourself for what’s coming. Eyes screwed shut, he lets out a low groan as he spills inside of your mouth, his cum painting your tongue white. You try to swallow it all, but a few stray drops dribble down your chin. The younger twin cleans you up, and kisses you deeply, not minding his taste on your mouth. He sits on the bed to catch his breath, and allows you to rest on his thighs.

Behind you, Crispin begins to rut faster, his thumb still in your ass as he pounded you. You writhe and cry against Basilio’s lap, bracing yourself from each harsh thrust. The younger twin pets your hair, but he moves his hand away when Crispin pushes your head against his brother’s lap.

“Take it all of it,” Crispin groans. “Ungh, you make me so horny, you little slut.”

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Basilio gets an idea.

“Hey, kuya. Hold her up.”

Crispin blinks before obliging his brother’s request, clamping a hand around your throat. “Is this fine?” he asks you, and you nod a few times. He tightens his hold and pulls you to his toned chest, your hair sticking to his skin from your sweat. Basilio kisses you, then latches on one of your breasts. One gloved hand fondles and pulls at your nipples, while the other moves south to stroke you.

“Ah! I think I’m gonna cum again…” you choked, face red and tears forming at the edge of your eyes.

“Say our names,” Crispin whispers against your ear in a low growl.

You mutter their names at first, but it turns to full blown cries as your climax fast approaches.

“Crispin! Basilio!”

It hits you so hard, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You cried shamelessly, and Crispin places a kiss on your open mouth, tongue slipping in and teeth clashing with yours. He pulls out and finishes on your back, cock resting between the valley of your cheeks, still half-hard.

The Twins move to clean you up, looking around for tissues and anything to wipe you with.

“So,” Basilio says. “One more round?”

Your eyes widen, and you look down to see that Basilio is hard again.

“How- what the fuck? What are you two?”

Crispin sighs. “Hannah and Amie never told you? We’re demigods.”

“We don’t get sick and our injuries heal really fast. Talagbusao is our dad,” Basilio adds, and you give him a disbelieving glare.

“You didn’t need to let that last detail slip out, gago,” Crispin berates him as he pulls you close to his muscular chest. He lay down on a pillow, one arm propping his head up.

After a few seconds of silence, you say something. “At least let me have some water first.”

“Right.”

The Twins stare at each other.

“One of us has to fetch it,” Crispin says.

“What? Why me?” Basilio complains, scratching his head.

“Because I’m older, and I’ve worked hard to give her two orgasms in a row.”

“Hey! I’m sure that last one was thanks to me.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow to cover your face. “Ugh, please don’t turn this into a competition about who made me cum the most. Just get me my water, pretty please, Basilio?”

At the request, Basilio smiles and dresses haphazardly to get it for you. “Don’t start without me.”

You close your eyes with a smile. Crispin buries his face against your hair and plays with it. “You have him wrapped around your finger, you know?”

You chuckle at the remark, and Crispin kisses your temple. “Just don’t hurt my little brother.”

“I have no intention of hurting either of you,” you tell him.

Basilio comes back with a pitcher and some glasses, and once everyone’s hydrated and ready, the night continues.

The Twins spoil you with their attention, hands roaming your body as they planted kisses on your skin. Basilio sucks on your collarbone, biting experimentally and leaving marks that would darken in the morning, which draws a whine from your throat. Not wanting to be outdone, Crispin kisses your back, then the back of your neck, and he found a sweet spot that made you moan at that place where your ear connects to your neck. Basilio observes this and does the same to the other side.

“Hey, um, can I do it in your ass?” Crispin whispers in your ear, almost sheepishly, and you stare at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“Sure. Be gentle. And use a condom.”

“Of course. You go on top. What’s our safeword again?” he asks you, testing your knowledge.

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Eternos.”

“Good girl,” Basilio says.

Flipping yourself around, you lean into Crispin’s lap. “Here, let me help,” you say as you grasp his cock and start to pump. The younger twin behind you reaches for the lube and prepares your ass. You sigh with pleasure as you feel the cold sensation of the product on your skin. Crispin sighs as you slide his length between your lips, head bobbing up and down, and you feel him grow inside your mouth. You give the tip a small lick before doing the same thing you did to Basilio, cupping his balls with your mouth and fondling them with your tongue.

“I want you now,” Crispin rasps, tugging your hair to get you off of him.

You smirk, turning around to give him a great view of your ass. He reaches around for a condom, finds one, and tears the foil open. After sliding the rubber down his shaft, he positions himself against your hole, pressing against the tight ring of muscle. You wince in pain as he starts penetrating you, prompting him to squeeze more lube to relieve your discomfort.

“Relax,” Basilio instructs you, planting soothing kisses at your jaw. You did as he said and unclenched your muscles, entrusting yourself to the two of them.

As Crispin pushes past the ring of muscle, you sigh in relief, discomfort replaced with the feeling of fullness. You lean back into his hard chest, a soft sigh leaving your lips as he starts to move. Meanwhile, Basilio kneels between your legs, rubbing your clit with the head of his dripping cock, but he freezes before he slides it in.

“What?” you ask with concern.

“We’re out of condoms.”

“Just pull out,” you tell him with a strained voice, gasping as Crispin moves inside you.

“No, you don’t understand. We’re demigods. Our… um.. Yeah, we’re really potent.”

You smirk at him. “I’ll ask the girls for something in the morning,” you say against your better judgment. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Cum all over me.”

His cock twitches at your last suggestion.

“Ugh, Basilio, you’re really killing the mood here,” Crispin strains to say, holding you gently by the neck. “I pulled out too, remember? Make up your mind already. I wouldn’t mind having her to myself for now, though.”

“Not a chance,” Basilio retorts, sliding the tip of his cock past your folds and pushing inside.

A loud cry rips from your throat at the sensations, feeling stuffed to the maximum as two cocks start to pump inside you. Crispin’s grip on your neck tightens, while you tangle your hands through Basilio’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him.

Soon, The Twins find a steady rhythm, syncing their movement so you can feel the full force of their thrusts. Basilio throws one of your legs over his shoulder and begins to massage your clit with his thumb, while Crispin fondles your breasts with his free hand, using the tip of his fingers to roll, squeeze, and pull at your nubs. With every thrust they give, you clench, drawing a groan from both of them as they felt themselves being squeezed by your muscles.

“Oh God,” you whine. “Fuck, you both feel so good.”

“Say our names,” Basilio growls, and you oblige.

You chant their names like a prayer, underscored by the slapping of skin as the Twins fucked both of your holes. Hearing their names only spurred them on, and their movements became more desperate, sweat rolling off of your bodies.

“Basilio! Crispin!”

Underneath you, Crispin gropes at your breast harder, beads of sweat rolling off of his forehead and dripping to your skin. “Your ass feels too good, I’m gonna cum,” he hissed between clenched teeth, and you silently thank Bathala that he’s near his limit. The lube is starting to wash off.

With a few more rough thrusts, he cums, shooting inside the rubber. Crispin cups your jaw and kisses you, deep and sweet, tasting your tongue. You’re on the verge of climax now too, and you give Basilio a desperate look. He understood what you meant.

The younger twin thrusts harder and faster while still rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs furiously, and the older one helps by stimulating your nipples once again. The bombardment of sensation is too much, and you feel white hot heat racing through your body as you cum one last time, voice hoarse as a throaty moan escapes past your open mouth.

The spasm of your muscles is enough to send Basilio over the edge too, pulling out of you and spilling his load all over the mound of your pussy, and your stomach. You feel Crispin slip out of you too. Basilio leans in to kiss you, almost tenderly, but still full of desperation, tongue and teeth.

After a quick cleanup and another drink of water, the three of you lay in a heap of limbs, exhausted. Crispin doesn’t shift at all, content on letting you lie next to him, while Basilio moves next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them on the narrow bed.

Everyone is sated, and with your eyes growing heavy, you wanted nothing but sleep.

“So, who’s better?”

You don’t know who said it, but you raised your hand to give him a middle finger. “Tangina niyo, you’re both good. End of discussion. Now please let me sleep.”

Thank Bathala that they did.

The next morning, all three of you wake up sweaty, stinking, and really, really hungry.

“Good morning to you two,” you sigh, snaking your arms around theirs. Each of them gave you a kiss on your temple. “Damn, I’m starving,” you said, sitting up. “Let’s take a shower and grab something to e-”

Underneath the three of you, the bed’s legs give out, and a loud thud can be heard throughout the house. As you three scramble for purchase, frantic footsteps are approaching, and the door bursts open.

“What was that? Crispin is missing from his room and-” Hank blurts, toting his good ol’ triple barrel shotgun "Ama, Anak, at, Espiritu Santo". Funnily enough, when he sees the tangle of limbs before him, he utters the same words and quickly turns away. Alexandra arrives shortly after, gives them a quick glance, and shuts the door.

Breakfast with their bossing is filled with a mortifying quiet.

You barely touch your food, embarrassment burning your cheeks, and you shoot a glance at your twin lovers.

“Next time, lock the door,” Alex finally says, getting up from the table with a coffee in her hands. She’s too fucking exhausted to deal with this.

“It’s Basilio’s fault!” Crispin yells after her. Basilio made no attempts to defend himself, knowing that he forgot to lock the door again after he came back with the water.

Grumbling, you finally take a bite of your breakfast, jacket draped over your shoulders despite the heat to hide the bruises on your body. “The girls are gonna have a field day when they see me like this.”

“I need to replace the bed,” Basilio mumbles, stuffing his mouth with rice.

The three of you looked at each other, and laughed.

“So, see you next week?” Crispin asks with a smile, and Basilio gives you a pleading, doe-eyed look.

“Yeah. See you two next week.”

Translations for non-English speakers:

tropa: ground of friends. People you chill with

tangina niyo: Filipino profanity. Roughly translates to "you sons of bitches"

Ama, Anak, at Espiritu Santo: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s Hank’s weapon’s actual name in the comics.