#or you’ll end up like me with 1 close friend I get to see three times a year and 3 online friends that live too far away for me to hug ;-;

[a-very-fond-farewell]

went to the city, me. fell in love with ALL the pretty women, me. much struggle.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Everything's all fun and games until everyone assumes you're just being a Horny BardTM when you have, in fact, actually been kidnapped by a dragon.

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Spice

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

“Wow,” Ace whistled, long and low, and you fought a twitch in your jaw.

He and Deuce were certainly beat to shit, but not quite ‘hurled dozens of feet through the air and a roof’ level of shit, so your spell must have cushioned at least a little of the fall. The pair of idiots stood at the entrance of the cavernous room, shifting back and forth on their heels and faces twisted up in varying degrees of horror. 

“I mean, I know there’s a stereotype about bards and whatever,” he continued, aghast. “But, really? Really?”

You grit your teeth. The pointed chin resting atop your head shifted and you felt claws flex at your hips.

‘My friends will probably be coming back here soon to find me,’ you’d entreated, not five-minutes prior.

‘Your friends?’ the dragon had repeated, slow, like the concept of comradery was something completely alien. And then his eyes had narrowed. ‘Ah. They intend to steal you away,’ he’d said with all the indignation of someone who’d clearly forgotten he had literally just proclaimed his intent to the do the exact same thing.

Sparks had shot out from between his teeth, and the already too-sharp black nails tipping his fingers had curled into talons—ashy darkness trailing up his arms like a seeping stain.

‘What? No,’ you’d lied. ‘They would never. I’m sure they’re just curious. Whether I’m still alive or not, I mean.’

‘Oh,’ he’d blinked, that venomous ire seeping from his gaze as if it’d never been there to begin with. ‘I suppose that does make sense.’

So when your loveable idiots had eventually stormed in—swords drawn, banners flying—you schooled your countenance into something as placid as possible. Something that perhaps conveyed ‘I would love for you guys to help me out here, but also I would really like not to see the three of us become tonight’s entrée. So like. Maybe sit this one out.’ But whatever expression you ended up making clearly wasn’t doing what you were aiming for if Ace’s first instinct was to accuse you of Horny Bard Shenanigans.

Or maybe your face wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was just the nearly seven-foot-tall, naked, dragon man draped across your shoulders. Who’s to say.

“This has nothing to do with that,” you snapped, ears burning.

“Do with what?” The newly dubbed Tsunotarou rumbled. He was pressed close enough that you could feel the worlds roll through his chest—annnnd you were going to stop yourself right there and focus very, very, intently on getting through this conversation alive.

“Human things,” you spluttered frantically.

“Ah,” he hummed, his chin shifting from the crown of your head to dip down and instead rest atop the curve of your shoulder. “You’ll have to explain it to me later, then. I do find our cultural differences very intriguing. You humans are so… new age.”

“Explain it to you later…?” Deuce frowned, and you could see the words zipping around behind his eyes to slowly put themselves together into a cohesive thought. He shot ramrod straight and whipped his arm out accusatorily. “You’re staying?!”

“Of course,” you said, with all the enthusiasm of someone with a knife held to their throat. You locked eyes as obviously as you could—hoping he’d get the message. “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

You could see the pinched look on his face, the heavy weight of discontentment tugging at his brow. There was a war being waged in that man’s head—a battle between what lingering, frail, shreds of rationality and comprehension remained, and the desire to be a good friend and save our bard! Because mama said I should be good to my friends! You stared him down hard, silently begging, pleading, to just let it go. The fingers gripping his axe tightened and you could hear the leather of his gauntlets creak with strain. Tsunotarou hummed, something like amusement coloring the throaty rumble, and it tingled all the way from the tips of your toes to the cheek he was tucked up against. The claws at your side flexed—not deep enough to hurt, but firm enough to know that funny as the notion of a teeny, human, barbarian hurling themselves at a dragon was, it wasn’t going to be a good enough joke to earn said dragon’s mercy.

“Well, duh, you’re staying!” Ace interrupted slickly, sliding in front of Deuce and his burbling rage like a fox finally skulking from its hole. “Look at what a great new friendyou’ve made! You can’t just leave him here all on his lonesome, now can you?”

The low rumble skirting along your back melted into something that was very nearly a purr. Your eyes flickered to your captor’s face—or as much of his face as you could manage to make out, considering he had plastered himself to your side like an overgrown cat. His lips were curled back into that smug, contented, smirk—the tips of his sharp canines just barely peeked out over his bottom lip.

“We’ll come back and check on you, of course,” Ace continued. He waved his hand at the dragon, like they were old chums shooting the shit over a pint of ale in a tavern. “You know how it is. Gotta make sure they’re settling in all right—make sure you’re keeping with your honorable intentions and whatnot. How’s two weeks from now sound?”

“Two weeks?!” you wailed.

Tsunotarou grumbled, clearly also displeased. “I agree. That seems far too soon.”

“Two months?” the ginger countered easily.

“Ace!”

The dragon seemed to consider this new proposal quite thoroughly. You could feel his long lashes flick down against your cheek as his eyes went hooded, heavy—slipping back into his thoughts to ponder upon this newly proffered timeline. After a long, long, moment, he lifted himself from your neck and plonked his chin back down atop the crown of your head.

“That is acceptable.”

Deuce looked entirely unimpressed. You had a feeling you looked like you were about to shit yourself. Ace, naturally, seemed more or less content.

“Well then!” the traitor chirped. “We’ll see you when we see you then, yeah?”

You grit you teeth, but your gaze flicked to your other, kinder, friend and you bit back the slew of heinous insults brewing on your tongue. Deuce still looked more than ready to jump into the fray, consequences be damned. And you were not going to let your terrible, horrible, no-good, rotten luck end all his valiant attempts at redemption when he inevitably attempted to go toe-to-toe with the business end of a dragon.

“…Are you sure you’re gonna be alright here?” Deuce asked, face twisted up in distaste.  

There was a pissy rumble from over your shoulder.

“Do you doubt my abilities as a host?”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Ace cut in, ever the bootlicker. “And besides,” he drawled, elbowing his companion in the ribs. “You know how bards are. I’m sure this is right up their alley.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Deuce went pale—then green. Ace turned on you with a smile that was all vinegar. “Right?”

‘I should not let them be murdered horribly,’ you repeated to yourself past the crimson rage leaking into your vision. ‘I should not let them be horribly murdered—’

“Righteo!” you forced yourself to spit. And if you somehow managed to survive these next two months, you were going to string that red haired traitor up by his pinkies and feed him to the crows that lived outside your window.

Your friends slipped away slowly, hesitantly—Deuce looking like he’d been struck down by a horrid case of food poisoning or something else equally as stomach churning. Once they were gone, Tsunotarou lifted his chin from your head so that he could crane his neck over your shoulder and look at you more directly. Not that he had to try very hard, seeing as he was gigantic, whether on two legs or four.

“What was the small, ugly, one referring to?” he asked curiously. “About your profession?”

Your life flashed before your eyes.

“Bards are known for their hearty curiosity and drive to experience new situations,” you repeated, verbatim, from the little adventurer’s handbook you’d been gifted by Lord Crewel all those years ago.

“Oh,” he hummed, nodding into your hair. “Of course.”

.

.

The first major hurdle cropped up barely two hours later.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

The dragon blinked slowly, as if mentally tallying through a list of human bodily functions to try and figure out just what on earth you were talking about.

“Ah,” he said after a moment. And then he began to melt away—limbs stretching and cracking, and porcelain complexion bubbling up with inky miasma so thick and dark it may as well have been tar. It was both horrifying and awe-inspiring to watch, like some great creature of old emerging from an arcane cocoon. And not two minutes later, a familiar, ebony, dragon was standing before you in all its glory.

He lowered his snout and nosed around your shoulders for a moment, snuffling and searching. And then he pinched your collar between his teeth and hauled you into the air.

You tried not to scream. Really, you did. But humans just weren’t meant for flying, let alone while suspended between the jaws of a beast that could swallow them whole. By the time you landed, you were so wobbly and windswept that you nearly collapsed to the ground then and there, bladder be damned. Tsunotarou warbled something deep in his chest, and you glanced up past the thin veil of icy sweat dripping into your eyes.

He'd placed you into a blown-out enclave that had probably once been a very nice hallway. And in the corner was the remains of what indeed looked like a bathroom. You straightened yourself as much as you could and began hobbling woozily towards what you hoped was a proper, enchanted, toilet and not just some block of stone with a bowl at the bottom.

There was an echoing thud from behind you and you jumped, startled, and turned to see what the ruckus was all about. Tsunotarou had sat his massive head at the entrance. And he continued to sit there. Watching.  

“Uhm,” you mumbled. “Thank you.”

He stared, unmoving. You sighed and squashed your fingers into your temples.

“…We’re going to have to establish some boundaries,” you said. The dragon’s gigantic, neon, eyes closed and opened—like a question. “Boundaries,” you repeated. “Things that we do on our own.”

The beast’s lips flattened into a grumpy line and he grumbled something unintelligible at you, spitting loose sparks from behind his overly long canines.

However, mouthful of razor-sharp teeth in your face or otherwise, everyone had to draw the line between pride and self-preservation somewhere. And having to piss in front of an audience was apparently yours.

You waved your hands in a shoo shoo motion and those amethyst crests flattened irritably atop his skull. He settled in further, the structure of the terrace groaning beneath the weight of his scaly chin. You worried your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t exactly like there was a door or anything that you could just, like, shut in his face. And beating him off with a broom or something like a stray cat was out of the question—just out of sheer impossibility. You were going to have to get creative here…

An idea popped into your head and you leaned forward with a charismatic little smile that you’d unleashed on so many traders, and shopkeepers, and unsuspecting bakers that it ought to be considered a weapon in its own right. You’d practiced it in the mirror for weeks.

“I’ll tell you a story,” you offered, and his slitted pupils rounded a bit—intrigued. “That’s what I was before all this, you know. A storyteller.” You had his full interest now, those purple crests rippling behind his horns. “But you have to close your eyes,” you said. “It makes it easier to imagine that way.”

He stared you down curiously for a heartbeat or three, and then Tsunotarou’s gigantic, luminous, eyes slipped shut.  

You sighed and plopped yourself down on the decrepit, stone, toilet.

“Once upon a time,” you began, sweeping your cloak out in front of you to give yourself at least a little bit more dignity. One of those crests twitched at the sound of swirling fabric, but his eyes remained dutifully closed. “There was a bard who made some very terrible life decisions—"

.

.

The next bump in the road came the following afternoon.

“People tend to wear clothes,” you said.

He canted his head at you. “I am not a person.”

Oh for fucks sake.

Tsunotarou was stretched out along one of the many, grand, banisters lining what you assumed had once been a ballroom—lounging in the dim light like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. Apparently, before your arrival, he’d very rarely, if ever, shed his wings and scales for this more compact form. And he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying spreading himself out across all the new surfaces that the change in size allowed him. Part of you would have thought it was a bit endearing—seeing this eldritch monster merrily falling into the ‘if I fits, I sits’ way of life. The other part was sick of nearly collapsing in cardiac arrest every time you caught sight of his very naked self reclining across some new piece of furniture.

“Yes,” you intoned, deadpan. “But you look like one.”

He blinked slowly, as if putting together a thought. “I see. The dissonance of observing a vestige of humanity which does not actually fit the mold of a human must be disconcerting to you.” He rested a knuckle lightly against his chin as he pondered. “In the same way I may feel uncomfortable if you took on the form a dragon with no teeth or tail.”

“Sure. Whatever,” you bemoaned. “Just. Pants? Please?”

He observed you quietly for a moment, amusement dancing across his features. And then he grinned, putting the pointed tips of those impressive canines of his on full display.

“Well I suppose if you’re going to ask so sweetly.”

He sat up with a stretch that was outright spitting in the face of your plea for modesty, and then spread his hands. His black-tipped fingers twisted gracefully, artfully, and the cavernous room filled with the scent of packed earth and ozone. Soft puffs of emerald light glided along his arms, and in their wake sprouted tendrils of sheer, silken, sleeves. Those dancing lights traveled merrily from his shoulders to his hips, and then back again—spinning magic into fabric like little, ghostly, seamstresses as they went.

The soft glow faded and the silk settled around him with all the delicacy of a cloud. It was stunning, certainly. A true work of beauty. With billowing sleeves that cinched neatly at his wrists, and swept into an open window across his front. The fabric wrapped itself snuggly at his waist and draped low enough to offer at least what should have been the bare minimum of modesty. It pooled across his shoulders, splaying out into a split cape that looked eerily similar to the wings he dawned in his other, scalier, form.

But this lovely new ensemble—as gloriously shiny and magical as it was—was still nearly fucking transparent. And yeah, the shadows curling along the spiraling silk did a decent enough job at obscuring what ought to be obscured. But at the same time, somehow this impression of cloth, of loose fabric that dipped below his collar bones and hung uneven and open across his pale chest, was worse than the outright fucking nudity. Scandalous. Like walking in on a seduction scene in a trashy novel.

“…maybe you should just do whatever makes you comfortable,” you managed to cough out, gaze slipping downwards of its own accord. And then more down. You gulped. “D-Don’t feel the need to change yourself on my account.”

He stared grumpily at his swanky new outfit. And then back at you. His lips pursed into a pout.

“You don’t find it pleasing.”

Your eyes rolled up to stare miserably, tormentedly, at the ceiling, and you began reciting every religious verse you could think of. Thou shall not steal or covet. In the name of the Mother, the Crone, and the Hallowed Throne. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Aye, Macarena—

“It looks perfectly nice. I just think that you have as much of a right to be happy in your skin as I do,” you reiterated. “I—I mean, you’re already keeping yourself human more often than not just so we can talk.” Which was true enough, but also mostly an attempt to make it seem like your concern was genuinely aimed at him and not your steadily rising blood pressure.

“…you’re incredibly strange,” he grumbled after a moment, his brow tugging low on his forehead. More pouting. “And impossibly frustrating to read.”

The heat radiating off your face like a fucking active volcano felt ‘possible’ enough to you, but what did you know.

“That’s why you’re keeping me around,” you reminded him.

Ten minutes later, he was sprawled out with his head in your lap, the ridges of his horns bumping your hips and inky black hair spilling over your thighs. Naked as a jaybird.

“Tell me another story,” he hummed, eyes slipping closed.

“Sure,” you agreed, gaze once again firmly locked on the hundreds of cracks in the ceiling. You’d probably have them all memorized by this evening, or at the very least have managed to count them all up a dozen times over.

You were halfway through some yarn about armies made of playing cards and worlds beyond looking glasses when Tsunotarou sighed, heavy and bone deep. Content. And then he turned to bury his cheek into the rough fabric of your traveler’s pants with a rumbling drawl that was not unlike a purr. His nose pressed itself into the inseam of your thigh and your brain fuzzed out like you’d been shot pointblank with a Wand of Lightning Bolts.

“Child of Man?” he huffed after a moment—one, neon, eye flicking open to glare up at you grumpily. “What happened then? To the cat that smiled too wide and the man with the mad hats?”

“R-Right,” you squawked. “Uhm—so as I was saying—”

You stared back at all those cracks and started counting again from zero.

[leeknowlover99]

Sweet tooth

pairing: Jake x reader

synopsis: friends (idiots) to lovers - where everyone can see they have feelings for each over except for them - coworkers au, set in cute coffee shop/bakery

word count: 8,7k

warning: fluff, mentions of anxiety and insomnia, swearing, kissing making out, eventual smut (pretty vanilla), slow burn, one bed coach trope, they’re both a bit silly, no mention of protection 🫣

A/N: this was so much fun to write, the way they are both in denial 🙈 hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

masterlist

Jake has always smelled sweet, like vanilla and cinnamon. like a hug from comfort person. but ever since he started working at his uncle’s cafe it intensified. now it was more like cake frosting but with a hint of roasted coffee beans. you wondered if you smelled the same after working there with him for over two months. little cafe became your safe space quickly. escape from stressful uni life. Jake and the rest of the cafe workers were always kind and gentle to you. even during the rush hours it felt like time slowed down here. but the thing you loved the most was hours after closing when you cleaned up and tried new recipes with Jake. you were not much of a baker but you always were good with art so your job was taking care of the visual presentation of Jake’s new creations.

however today both of you were too exhausted to stay up. you cleaned up in a hurry and closed up. you were both heading to the nearest bus station as cafe was quite far from your apartments.

“i’m sad that summer is ending. evenings are already so chilly. aren’t you cold y/n?” Jake looked at your sundress concerned.

“a little bit” you admitted. “i didn’t expect for the temperature to drop so much.”

“let’s walk a little bit faster then” he said wrapping his arm around you. “is this okay?”

you nodded and snuggled into him. he emanated pleasant warmth and that sweet scent you loved so much.

“how’s uni?” you asked.

“it’s already starting to be busy. so many assignments, i will probably have to take less shifts at the cafe.” Jake was majoring in

“yeah same for me. i’m so jealous that this is your last year.” you still had two years left.

Jake laughed and his voice sounded so melodic, every time you heard it your mood elevated instantly.

“it will pass fast, you’ll see. look your bus will be here in 1 minute, lucky you” he pointed at the live schedule at the bus stop as you approached it.

“thank god, i actually started shivering” you commented.

“i hope you won’t catch a cold. drink some tea with honey when you get home.” Jake insisted. it was sweet how caring he was.

“i will! when is your next shift?” you asked before getting in the bus.

“Monday! see you Y/N!” Jake screamed and waved through the bus window.

you waved backed as the bus started moving and soon Jake smiley face disappeared from your sight.

you met Jake in your home town - Busan when you were both in middle school. your mums started working together in the office and quickly became close friends. when summer came barbecue parties in your garden became a weekly event. Jake wasn’t always coming by with his parents, usually he would visit every two or three weeks. at first it felt a little bit awkward as you were complete strangers without much in common. Busan was a big city and you attended different schools and hang out in different friend groups. Jake was also one year older than you. but despite all of this you quickly started to get along well, exchanging stories and interests. however you never kept in touch between those parties. when warm summer days ended replaced by cold and dark days your parents started meeting less often and usually Jake wouldn’t come, too busy with studying. your bond always strengthened over the summers. when you were in high school you started your tradition of stealing some beers from the fridge and sneaking out to sit on the beach and talk drinking the liquor. you always cherished this moments, knowing they will soon become the past.

after Jake graduated high school he moved out to Seoul and you haven’t seen him for two years. you graduated next summer and also decided to continue your education in the capital city. you moved out with your best friend and started your major in chemistry. during summer after first year of uni you got a text from Jake asking if you would be interested in part time job in his uncle’s cafe as they needed new people immediately. you were actually in the process of looking for a summer job so you gladly accepted the offer without thinking too much about it. soon you fell in love with the little cafe and rebuild your bond with Jake, spending multiple hours working together. now you could say you went back to being friends, even closer than ever.

it was already 10 pm when you arrived at your dorm, you were sharing a room with your best friend Hari. you both got in the same university and moved to Seoul together. you were glad for having her in your life as she was the only person keeping you sane through all the hardships and stresses.

“hi cupcake” he greeted you using the nickname she gave you in primary school connected to your love for sweet things.

“hey there” you said back with a sigh, you were exhausted and although weekend was starting you knew it won’t bring you any rest, only more work.

“you’re early. you and jake didn’t bake today?” she asked stretching out on her bed.

“nope, we were both too tired.”

“oh and i thought that maybe you had some trouble in your paradise” she giggled. Hari was shipping you and Jake ever since you started working together and getting closer again. as she claimed you two were destined to be together.

“please don’t start” you plopped down on your own bed too tired to even change your clothes.

“i’m not starting. but just saying. i’m waiting until one of you finally will realize that you have feelings for each other!”

“but we don’t, so there’s nothing to realize. we’re just friends.” you and Jake had a sort of special bond but it wasn’t anything romantic. sure you noticed how handsome he was, how his blond hair completed his pretty face and how bright his smile was. you also knew he was a great, kind and gentle person. but that was something everyone could see about him. you were only objectively noticing his good qualities.

“yeah yeah just friends my ass. friends don’t look at each other the way you do or have this dreamy eyes when they think about the other person” she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“i’m just tired, it’s my tired eyes” you defended yourself a little bit annoyed at this point.

Hari could talk all she wanted. you knew there was nothing between you and Jake besides old good friendship. you cut her blabbering by disappearing in the bathroom to take a shower and putting on loud music. you needed some time to yourself to rest and get ready for tomorrow. you had two assignments and tone of studying to do. and if you’ll be lucky maybe you’ll have enough energy to go to one of the weekly frat parties. you were dying to finally let loose and have some fun.

somehow you managed to get on top of your productivity and complete everything from your Saturday’s to do list. moreover you actually had a lot of energy left, only one last thing was left - get wasted - as you scribbled in your journal. Hari couldn’t hide her enthusiasm when you informed her that you’re going out today.

“it’s been so long! finally the best party duo will be back in town!” she put on taylor swift and insisted on doing your make up. “please y/n i have the greatest idea in my mind, it will look beautiful on you i promise.” you could only agree so now you were patiently waiting for her to be done so you can pick your outfit.

“we’ll go to house party at Kappa” Hari informed you. “sunghoon told me he’s going to be there, i hope we’ll get to talk.” she shared, Sunghoon was Hari’s crush since forever but just recently they finally started talking and things were slowly starting to get serious between them.

“girl we need you in that pink dress tonight! he’ll lose his mind when he sees you in it” you suddenly remembered the dress you bought her as a birthday gift. it complimented her figure perfectly and cool shade of pink was bringing up her features.

“yess, it will be perfect!” she clapped excited. “by the way i heard Jake is hanging out with Sunghoon a lot recently. so there’s a chance he might be there too.” she winked and you rolled your eyes. but your stomach twisted at the possibility of spending time with Jake outside of work. despite you two being pretty close now you rarely texted or talked besides the cafe. you didn’t even follow him on any social media, only have his number saved up.

“it will be nice to see him outside of work.” you commented keeping your face straight.

“sooo what are you going to wear now that i gave you this precious piece of information?” Hari asked.

the final choice was made after the long debate that was also be the reason of your late arrival to the party. but the way white lacy corset and denim skirt you wore was totally worth it.

“girl you’re going to have all the guys falling to your feet” Hari giggled as you entered the frat house. the place was loud and crowded but nothing over the top. you found your usual squad consisting of an odd mix of art and chemistry students occupying one of the large coaches.

“ahh finally you made it!” Jungwon greeted you with a broad smile.

“the queen is never late, everybody else is early” Hari announced loudly.

“she’s not even drunk yet” Ryujin laughed and went for a tight hug with both of you.

“it’s good to see you, i was worried that you’re overworking yourself y/n but here you are looking hotter than hell!” Ryujin definitely had few drinks already. you giggled at her compliments.

“i’m going to check out the kitchen.” you informed them leaving Hari space to say hello to Sunghoon.

you wondered into the large kitchen, where all the counters were cluttered with liquor and snacks. you checked out your option and went for good old ponch. you wondered if Jake is going to show up as it was already pretty late and he was nowhere to be seen. you didn’t know why you even wanted to see him today but you felt bitter taste of disappointment. but you didn’t let yourself grieve too much. you came back to your friends with two drinks, one for you and one for Hari. she was already gossiping with Sunghoon so you just handed her the drink and plopped down between Jay and Yeji. soon alcohol started buzzing in your veins and you got invested with loud conversations with your friends. it was nice to catch up after a long time and hear what’s up in other people’s lifes. however after some time pleasant buzzing in your head turned into a slight headache, the effects of insomnia and being overworked. you excused yourself to the kitchen, but this time only purred yourself a glass of water. you took a sip and felt better immediately. you leaned against the counter with sigh.

“are you alright?” voice startled you. the voice you knew all too well.

“jake? hii” you light up. “yeah i’m alright, just a bit tired after the week, you know how it is” you muttered to stunned by him.

he was wearing simple white shirt but left few upper buttons undone and his firm chest was exposed for your eyes. he fixed his messy hair and looked at you with pink cheeks. he must’ve been pretty drunk you thought.

“you look gorgeous” he whispered and looked down immediately, if you didn’t know him you would think he’s frustrated. but this wasn’t really in Jake’s character.

“thank you” you blushed, deeply happy that he liked your outfit. all that efforts did not go to waste.

“do you want to get some fresh air?” he asked suddenly and you sent him a confused look.

“i don’t mean smoke, just walk around? i’m a bit overwhelmed here” he explained.

“sure let’s go. i’ll join you at the door in a minute” you agreed without hesitation.

you stopped by Hari to whisper to her that you’re leaving with Jake only for her to wiggle her eyebrows furiously at you. “have fun” she screamed at you when you were leaving and you poked your tongue at her.

Jake was waiting for you with his denim jacket in hand.

“wear it, i don’t want you to get a cold” he said while putting it on you.

“but aren’t you going to be cold?” you asked concerned.

“don’t worry, this shirt is pretty thick.” he dismissed you but you weren’t going to give up so easily.

“at least button it up a bit” you scoffed and reach out to help him. you realized what you’re doing when your fingers made contact with hot skin of his chest. it was probably alcohol making you bold as you usually weren’t the type to be touchy with your friends. you buttoned two buttons of his shirt and looked up. Jake was averting his gaze and you could swear his cheeks were more pink than before.

“all done. we can go.” you said and opened the door.

for first couple of minutes you walked around in silence, emptiness and quietness of the streets being the nice contrast to the loud party. sky was clear tonight leaving a perfect view of constellations. here in seoul they weren’t visible as good as in busan but still astonished you with their beauty.

“what are you thinking about?” jake broke the silence first.

“i’m thinking about the stars. do you remember when we used to watch them during summer nights sitting on Songdo beach?” you asked looking up.

“life was easier back then, i felt in peace during those nights. i miss the beach. i like seoul but busan will always be in my heart.” he responded.

“did you ever think about coming back after graduating?” you turned your gaze towards him.

“yeah it crossed my mind, but i don’t think so. at least not just after graduating. maybe in the future.” he kept eye contact with you.

“same for me. i won’t have same opportunities there.” you agreed.

“these are some serious topics for a party night” he laughed out of the sudden and it reminded you that he was way drunker than you.

“sorry, didn’t want to ruin the mood” you reflected yourself.

“no, i didn’t mean it like that” he quickly protested grabbing your arm. “you didn’t ruin anything. i just would rather escape this topics today.” his touch burned you.

“sure, i understand.” you smiled gently at his worried face. “let’s get back to the party.” you proposed.

“i think i’m gonna head home already. it’s late and i need to rest a bit” Jake yawned and stretched out.

“sure, i think i’m gonna get going too, Hari has company and i could use some sleep too.” you decided.

“i’ll walk you home. it’s dangerous to walk alone at night.” Jake said. your dorm was about ten minutes away and you were sure you’re going to be fine but didn’t decline the offer. you liked Jake’s presence more than you wanted to admit. “by the way what’s up with Sunghoon and Hari? are they a thing now?” he asked as you were walking towards your dorm.

“ohhh so Sunghoon didn’t share any details?” you asked surprised. you thought they were close when Hari told you they hang out a lot.

“nah he’s pretty reserved and i didn’t want to push him. but i definitely noticed something is going on.”

“well Hari on the other hand is not secretive at all.” you laughed. “i think they’ll start dating officially soon. Hari liked Sunghoon since forever and well she can be very persistent. i guess her efforts paid off.” you explained.

“oh but Sunghoon definitely had an eye on her too. but good for her that she did not give up.” he commented as you crossed the street getting close to your building.

“oh she never gives up. can you believe she still didn’t stop shipping us?” you blurted out and immediately regretted it. you were grateful that it was night time because your face turned red instantly. you always said too much after drinking. Jake turned towards you surprise evident in his wide eyes.

“she is shipping … us?” the way his eyes switched between you two made you even more embarrassed.

“yeah, no matter how many times i tell her that we’re friends she keeps insisting” you brushed your hand through your hair nervously.

Jake’s expression was unreadable, but you saw him watch you intently.

“sorry don’t know why i brought it up, she’s being annoying with it.” you started talking to deal with awkward silence between you.

“it’s fine. i was just surprised. i didn’t know that.” Jake reassured you but you could tell by his eyes that he was confused.

“let’s forget about it. we’re here, i’m going to get going. don’t want to stop you anymore.” you quickly blurted out, in a rush to get away from Jake and die out of embarrassment in the comfort of your apartment.

“have a good night y/n and see you on monday” Jake smiled.

“wait your jacket!” you remembered and started to take it off.

“you can keep it, i’m fine. you’re the one who’s always cold.” he said and proceeded to walk away.

“good night!” you shouted back at him after a few seconds of shock.

after he turned around the corner and disappeared from you sight you hidden your face in your hands. you cringed at the whole walk with him, first you started too serious conversations and later you started talking about shipping you together. you seriously needed a ban for alcohol. you hugged his jacket around yourself tighter and his scent hit your nose, the sweet scent you loved so much. you went back home to go to sleep and escape from embarrassment.

you actually managed to get some rest throughout the sunday, you pushed all the thoughts about Jake away and Hari was too busy talking about Sunghoon to keep questioning you. however now as you were on your way to cafe after classes you felt anxiety creep up your spine. you hoped Jake was too drunk to remember and care. at least that was what you wanted to believe in. you opened cafe door with your head high and smile on your lips. „hi!” you greeted Mina, your other coworker, who was just ending her shift.

„hi Y/n! so glad to see you. and you look so pretty today!” she smiled at you from behind the counter.

“thank you” you beamed at compliment. “i’ll go change. is Jake here already?” you asked.

“no, he actually called and said he will be a bit late today. i can stay with you if you want” she proposed but you could tell she was dying to go home.

“no, it’s fine. it��s not busy today” you looked around. not even half of the tables was occupied.

you got ready and started evening shift alone. it felt nice to stop thinking and focus on all the tasks, you didn’t even noticed when an hour passed. you realized when you looked at the clock above the door when Jake run inside with messy hair and pink cheeks.

“i’m sorry, i had to stay some extra at labs” he started explaining immediately but you stopped him.

“hey, it’s okay. no need to be so dramatic. here have some water” you purred him a glass.

“thank you” he said breathing heavy and taking a sip. his adam apple bobbed and you couldn’t help but find it attractive when he was a flushed and sweaty. “i know you’re fine on your own but i just hate being late, it’s all in the head” his voice broke you out of the haze.

“i know. you don’t have to be so hard on yourself you know” you instinctively reached out to rub his shoulder in comforting manner. you were about to withdraw your hand after you realized but he actually leaned into your touch and put his big hand on yours. your eyes met, softness in his gaze making you smile.

“thank you. i’ll go change now.” he said finally.

“how was your sunday? did you get some rest?” he asked later on when you were sorting the cups in dishwasher.

“yes i finally did, felt so good. i can tell i started the week with good energy” you responded. “and you?”

“yeah i got some rest in the morning but then i was out again.” he chuckled.

“ohh our social butterfly” you joked.

“yeah, i had a date” he suddenly admitted.

“oh” you could stop the sound from escaping your lips. “how was it?” you corrected yourself quickly. you were surprised. Jake never mentioned his love life to you before and he didn’t seem like the person who was looking for relationship now.

“it was nice, i had a good time” he said.

“that’s great! so happy for you” you tried to make your enthusiasm sound honest, but your insides twisted a bit.

“well actually i was already on few dates with her” he scratched his head while looking down. you steadied yourself against the counter. “at first i had hope for something but the more we met the more it became obvious that it’s not working out. i couldn’t really feel anything towards her. i think something was stopping me. like i kept thinking that’s not it..”

“excuse me can we get another cinnamon roll?” women’s voice interrupted your conversation.

“sure, coming” Jake responded and went to grab the cinnamon roll from the counter.

your mind was spiraling from all the information he gave you. you didn’t understand why he suddenly shared so many details with you, but maybe he just needed someone to vent to. you gritted your teeth unconsciously and went back to work. when Jake came back from the table he did not continue the conversation and acted like it didn’t happen so you you did the same.

“can we schedule baking for friday? i’m too exhausted today and i think friday is our next shift together.” he asked towards the end of your shift.

“sure, friday sounds good, we won’t have to hurry” you agreed. you were too drained today too.

“perfect! you can go already, i’ll take care of the closing. we’ll be even for my delay today.” he proposed.

normally you wouldn’t agree and stay with him but today you wanted to escape his presence as fast as possible so you just nodded.

“thanks it would be great.”

you felt relief when you walked out of sweet cafe into the fresh air of the night. coldness of the wind wasn’t bothering you this time but bringing much needed refreshment. you didn’t know why lately all your interactions with Jake were so awkward. you blamed Hari for waking up weird ideas in your head and hoped this odd feeling will disappear till Friday.

Friday came suddenly, this week felt like a breeze and you were full of energy. you were looking forward to baking with Jake. it’s been a long time since you’ve done it and new season was just around the corner so you needed to make some preparations. technically this wasn’t part of your job, but the owner being Jake’s uncle made cafe feel like a family business and you both really wanted to help as much as you could. and combining your talents always brought back the best results.

tonight was super busy in the cafe so you decided to close an hour later than usual and were left with ton of cleaning to do but neither of you wanted to cancel your plans, you worked quickly in silence and managed to finish daily tasks around 11 pm.

“okay let’s get to work now, it’s already so late” Jake scratched his head.

you put on some quiet jazz music in the background and put on the apron.

“so what are you doing tonight chef?” you asked with a broad smile.

“we need something new for fall menu. i was thinking about trying something we’ve never made here before- pumpkin cupcakes with dark chocolate and cinnamon.” he started telling you all about his idea while preparing ingredients.

“i’m already hungry at the thought of it.” you licked your lips and you noticed Jake smiled at you. “so what size are they going to be? do you want the decorations to be in fall vibe as well?” you asked him for more details.

“here are the forms” he showed you medium sized forms, cupcakes would be about a size of his fist you thought. “i was thinking that we may even go more for spooky Halloween decor. what do you suggest?” he asked.

“sounds like a plan. let me think for a while” you said already picturing all the possible options. you picked out your journal from black bag and sat down ready to draw. while Jake started working on pumpkin dough you scribbled few ideas down. after giving it a thought you crossed out the ones you didn’t like and went to show Jake some options.

“i did few spooky ones and one with fall vibes.” you explained showing him your doodles. “for spooky ones spiders web is a must, here look at that design, it will look like it’s melting down the cupcake. second one i have are this little ghosts, they are spooky and cute at the same time, i got inspiration from the little ghosts from ghibli movies. and for fall ones i was thinking about white cream and little pumpkins from frosting. here take a look.” you were focusing on describing the drawings while Jake watched you with silent adoration and admired your talent. you only noticed when you finally stopped talking and your gaze met his eyes.

“i love all of them. but will you be able to make that pumpkins out of the frosting? it seems complicated.” he questioned.

“i’ll try but i’m positive about it” you reassured him, you already had a plan in your mind.

“great, always the best ideas in that pretty head of yours” he ruffled your hair but you were too focused on the fact that he called you pretty to care. it never happened before and you felt yourself blush at the sudden compliment. you looked away.

“let’s get to work then. i’ll prepare the cream and frosting!” you smiled and started your job.

you were silent for the next hour, enjoying your company and focusing on the things you loved, there was some kind of comfort in all of that. dim lighting of the cafe and sweet scent of your baked goods making the night even more atmospheric.

when you finally finished baking and decorating you were dying out of the hunger. you took some pictures to capture your creations and then you let yourself get the taste.

“oh. my. god. Jake. that’s so delicious” you complimented him mouth full of delicious cupcakes. sweet taste of pumpkin was perfect with combination of bitter dark chocolate and cinnamon. “that’s the best shit you ever made.”

“i’m glad you like it” he laughed throwing his head back. “i have to admit i love them too” he said taking another bite. “but the decor is what makes them top tier. you’re really so talented y/n. i’m sure they will sell out so fast.” he continued.

you ate way too many cupcakes than you should and lazily cleaned up the kitchen.

“ah i’m exhausted but at the same time i feel so rested after our baking session” you shared.

“it’s like the comfort thing, just like our evenings on the beach in Busan. we found a worthy substitute here in Seoul.” Jake smile warmly at you.

“you’re right. let’s get going, i think we’re done with everything here. what time is it?” you asked collecting for stuff from around the cafe.

“oh shit” you heard Jake whisper.

“what?” you asked concerned.

“it’s past 1 a.m already. i have no idea how it passed so quickly.” he said frowning at his phone.

“fuck. i don’t think we have any buses left.” you cursed out.

“i’ll check kakao taxi.” Jake said and started scrolling on his phone. “you’ve got to be kidding me!” he exclaimed loudly few seconds later. “i’m not paying fucking 400,000 won to go back home.”

“oh my god” you agreed. you were already on the budget and couldn’t afford any unnecessary spendings.

“i’m sorry y/n i didn’t know it’s so late” Jake started apologizing you, guilt painting his eyes.

“hey we both got lost in time.” you reassured him. “let’s think what are our options.”

“hmm i guess we could stay here until the morning buses. when do they start? i think around 4 am. it’s only 3 hours then” he started thinking out loud pacing around the cafe.

“that’s not a bad idea.” you agreed. “we can just crush here. we have the couch and blankets.”

“okay then.” Jake grabbed some blankets from the storage room. “you can take the coach, i’ll settle down for one of the armchairs.” he said. space of the cafe wasn’t big so there was only one big coach.

“i think we can both fit here if you don’t mind, should be enough space” you examined rearranging the pillows. “you’ll be uncomfortable on the armchair.” you didn’t mind sharing the space with Jake and you felt bad that he’s always sacrificing his comfort for you.

“if you are fine with it then sure. coach is definitely better.” he laughed and plopped down. “i’ll set the alarm for 4 o clock, is that okay?” he asked and you nodded in agreement. he fidgeted a bit on the coach and got comfortable. you lied down next to him and threw a blanket over your bodies, there was enough space for both of you on the coach but your limbs were touching. at first you thought it will be awkward but it actually felt good, warmth of Jake’s body was giving for comfort. you didn’t even know when you drifted away to sleep.

Jake was fucked. you were laying next to him asleep and fidgeting, you must be dreaming about something. he tried to fall asleep but your scent and warmth was distracting to say the least. his body burnt in places where your limbs were touching. he shouldn’t agree to sleep with you on the coach. he knew it wasn’t normal for a friend to feel this way towards you but he was also well aware he crossed that line a while ago. he realized when his heart skipped a beat whenever you would smile at him. he tried to deny it, explain it. he justified the ache in his heart, everybody would feel intimidated in the presence of someone as nice and pretty as you right? but deep down he knew. oh and when he saw you in that dress on the frat party. he needed some fresh air immediately to calm himself down. but then you started talking how Hari is shipping both of you. and you were looking so cute with his jacket on, like you were his. he was so embarrassed but at the same time he wanted to ask you “would it be so weird for us to be together?” but of course he never did. he just laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing ever not his dream. he didn’t know why he mentioned his date to you the next day. it’s not like it meant anything to him, it was a failed attempt to forget about you. he wanted to die when you were looking at him with big confused eyes when he was talking nonsense about it. he knew he couldn’t with for you to feel same way about him. you deserved so much better, someone who was brave enough to confess, someone who would always keep in touch with you, not disappear from your life like he did many times. he was always a coward.

now his heart was pounding as you turned to your side your back making contact with his chest. you sighed in your sleep and went still. maybe it was time to finally start acting on his feelings, being someone who’s sure and confident. in a sudden wave of bravery he put his arm around your waist and pulled you closer burying his face in the crook of your neck. he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breath enough to fall asleep.

sharp sound of the alarm woke you up and your body jolted. however you couldn’t get up as there was a weight holding you down. you blinked your eyes open and noticed Jake’s arm holding your waist and you realized that your bodies are curled up together. you stopped the ringing of alarm and turned around in Jake’s embrace to look at him.

“good morning” he muttered slowly waking up.

“hi, did you sleep well” you swallowed and asked in the whisper highly aware of his proximity. his firm and hot body pressed against yours making you feel dry at your throat. he kept his arm around you, caressing your side.

“yeah, i actually slept amazing. and you?” he asked.

“i did too. definitely better than expected.” you responded.

Jake’s fringe was messed up, loose strands covering his pretty brown eyes, you wanted to look at them without distractions. the urge was so strong that you reached out and fixed his hair gently. however after you didn’t withdraw your hand, just kept it tangled in his golden strands. now you kept eye contact, his pupils were dilated and eyes squinting slightly. you felt his breath fasten and saw his eyes flick down, you also averted your gaze towards his plump pink lips. you didn’t even noticed when you got closer to him and tagged at his hair lightly, it was all your bodies doing. now you were breathing heavily too, chest rising and falling visibly, cheeks flushed. tension was high between you two and Jake was the the first one to break it.

“can i kiss you?” he basically moaned.

you didn’t respond verbally just smashed your lips against his and finally tasted him. you started the kiss rather gently, carefully discovering the feeling of his lips. Jake returned the kiss immediately and you felt arousal in your stomach at the simple movement of his lips. they were perfect and the kiss quickly became less shy. Jake licked your lower lip asking for permission and you granted it immediately, your tongues curiously meeting. you felt him groan in your mouth and pull your body closer. you moaned at the sensation, your boobs meeting his hard chest and feeling of his boner pressing against your abdomen. you tagged at his perfect hair and grinded against him, throwing your leg over his hip to gain better access. Jake’s hand travelled to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh and pushing you against his hard on. you moaned and your lips disconnected for the first time, a string of saliva between them.

“what are we doing?” you asked breathless, Jake looked stunning like that, with lips swollen from your kisses and dark eyes filled with lust.

“something i’ve been wanting to do for way too long.” he said, his voice raspy. his words send another wave of arousal straight to your core. you thighs clenched uncontrollably and he definitely noticed, you saw him gulp.

“do you want to keep going baby?” he asked and you melted hearing the nickname. you didn’t know how much you were craving him, both physically and emotionally but now you have realized it, you were in love with Jake. “babe, can you give me an answer?” he asked you for the second time gently caressing your face. you leaned in his touch.

“yes Jakie, i want all of you.” you said and added “please” just to see him fold.

“fuck, you’ll be the death of me” he hissed and kissed you again. this time it was much rougher and full of urgency, you sucked on his tongue and he bit your lip all while trying to get you out of your clothes. when your shirt and bra were gone he moved down and captured your hardened nipple with his mouth, flicking his tongue around it and pinching the other one with his hands. the sensation was making your head spin. you needed him bad. when he moved up to suck on your neck your hand found his belt and unbuckled it to slip underneath his pants and palm him. his length felt thick and hard beneath your fingers. Jake bucked his hips in your hand.

“needy are you?” you giggled.

“you don’t even know.” he whispered. “but you’re no better i’m afraid” he teased slipping his palm into your panties, wetness immediately meeting his fingers. “fuck you’re so wet.”

you moaned when he found your clit and started rubbing circles around it. “Jake i need you” you pleaded too impatient to cherish the moment, you needed him inside now.

“i know baby, i know. i’ll just warm you up a bit okay?” he asked inserting one finger inside your warm pussy. you were starving for anything but finger did not feel enough.

“need more” you urged him.

“be a good girl” he scolded you.

“please” you moaned when he added second finger and fastened his moves. “i’m ready.”

Jake couldn’t resist you anymore, not when you pleaded like that. he was hot and needy for you, his precum leaking in his boxers. you got rid of the rest of your clothes and Jake settled between your legs, his dick so pretty you drooled at the sight, perfect length with red tip and one vein slightly visible. you wanted to taste him, but not now. he started rubbing his leaking tip against your wet core. “are you sure?” he asked one last time and when you nodded he pushed the tip inside. you were so wet it slid right in, you both moaned at the sensation. Jake was so lost in the feeling that he unconsciously started thrusting not giving you anytime to adjust but the slight sting disappeared almost immediately replaced with pleasure. his thrust were fast but not too rough, his tip perfectly abusing your sensitive spot, you knew you’ll cum fast. but it was the same for Jake, seeing your pretty tits moving with every thrust, your lips slightly opened in pleasure and hearing your moans was enough to send him over the edge within minutes. you came in the same time connecting your lips in messy kiss. you clenched around him and your vision darkened, sparks travelling through your body. it was one of the best orgasms of your life. Jake peppered your lips in kissed once you both came down from your highs and caressed your face gently.

“y/n i love you” he whispered eyes wide with adoration. “i’ve loved you since forever.” you melted after hearing his confession.

“i love you too” you responded overwhelmed with the sweet feeling.

[thesassypadawan]

Puck Slut .5 (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: After meeting at a local sports bar, Hayden and you hit it off over your shared love of hockey. What starts off as an innocent friendship, soon progresses into a few casual dates. Which some, to no surprise, involve watching your teams face off against one another. Tonight’s date is a bit different. Even though your usual bet is in place, loser buys the winner dinner the next time you two go out. There’s a new, more interesting twist this time of… spice it up more. (Hope you lovelies also enjoy Puck Slut 1 and Puck Slut 2)

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Hockey, couch sex, taring of one lucky shirt and, as always…Hayden’s big dick.

Notes: An origin story for what will now be known as the Puck Slut series! Yes, I will officially be doing one for every time the Pens and Leafs face off!

Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

A little something for @myheartwillgoon2022!  As soon as I read your request, I knew that I had to make it into the Puck Slut Origin story! I really enjoyed writing this, it was truly a pleasure!  Hope you like it! And thank you for inspiring me to turn this into a series! ❤️

*Pregame*

- First of all, no hockey game would be complete without all sort of tasty snacks and a few ice-cold drinks. Especially ones that you may or may not have purposely picked, because they were someone’s faves.

- “Wow, you didn’t have to do all this; thanks.” Hay says so cutely, taking a sip from his bottle.

- You start to reply all sweetly. “Of course, it’s the least I could do; since you were nice enough to have me over.” Then teasingly add. “And you’re going to need some comfort food when the Leafs lose.”

- Gives your hip a playful pinch. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see who’s buying who dinner tomorrow night.”

- Squeaking a bit; you grab your own drink, along with a tasty treat. And plop ‘gracefully’ on the couch, somewhat close to him. “Which reminds me…I’d like to try that new burger joint.”

- You bet Hay’s going to pinch you again for that sassy, little remark. Snatching that goody from your hand, when you squeak and jump. What a butt.

- But he’s all adorable and smooth, wrapping an arm around you…pulling you right up beside him. “So, out of curiosity, would you want to make this game more interesting?”

- Besides getting to go out on another date with your ‘friend’… All right, you’ll take the bait. “Sure. What were you thinking?”

*Game Time*

- Normally you’d really be into the game. Cheering, hollering, cursing, the whole nine yards. But it’s kind of difficult to do so when your team hasn’t made a single goal and…you were sitting there completely, totally flustered.

- It was all because of the rules. Whenever your team scored a goal, you got a kiss from the other. Except…you had to "spice it up more" every time.

- The third period had just started with the Leafs up by three. And not even two minutes in…the siren went off. Seriously.

- A smug look crosses his face, and he looks down at you expectantly. “Well, angel; you know what to do.”

- Not really having any other ideas, you shyly climb into his lap. Resting your hands on his broad shoulders, pressing your lips softly against his. Little tongue slipping into his mouth; playing and wrestling with his. Just getting yourself more and more worked up.

- Before you’re able to crawl back out, Hay winds a strong arm around your waist. Holding you tightly against his chest. “Uh-uh, you’re not going anywhere. Leafs might score again.”

- Proceeds to make small talk about the game and feeding you snacks. Acting like this is the norm; like you’re not blushing mad crazy or wiggling from the growing bump pressing into your backside.

*Postgame*

- At last the final buzzer rang and the game ended, not before your team scored at the very last second.

- By then you’re so hot and bothered, that you’re sitting there impatiently. Hips shifting from side to side, pouting up at him. “Come on, Hay. My boys got one in. I want mine.”

- He flashes you that damn panty dropping smile. Big hands rubbing your arms soothingly, muttering in your ear. “You want a kiss, huh? All right, I’ll be sure to give you a real good one.”

- Lips crash together in a fiery kiss. Hands grabbing anything they could reach. Teeth nipping at one another hungerly. Hips bumping and grinding, passions just overboiling.

- Practically throwing you down onto the couch. He quickly removes his clothes before working on yours. Yanking them leggings and panties clean off, taring…taring your lucky team shirt. “What the-”

- “It’s fine, I’ll buy you a new one.” Tossing it aside like it was nothing, he lines himself up. Rubbing it up and down your wet slit, coating his fat head thoroughly. “Besides, you’d look better in blue and white anyway.”

- Plunging into your needy cunt, you two don’t waste a single minute. Your hips start rocking, his rolling back and forth. Massive cock stretching you; pulling out and thrusting so deep…you can’t help but whine each time he bottoms out.

- Hayden’s thick neck strains deliciously, slamming and hitting that lovely spot of yours repeatedly. Stealing your breath, making your whole body tense up. The dam inside you is about to break from all that pent up energy. “Gonna… Fuck…”

- “Yeah?” He grunts; pounding ruthlessly, tongue running across your collarbone. “Me too.”

- Biting harshly, you’re both sent spiraling. Gummy walls clenching around and clamping down on him. Dick twitching and filling you up with his hot cum. Moaning and groaning together.

- Taking a moment, the two of you try to catch your breath. Panting, grinning at each other like some love drunk fools. “See, told you I’d give you a real good one.”

- You bust out laughing, smacking him softly. “Shut up, Mountie Boy.” Before pulling him in for another ‘spicy’ kiss.

*Post Postgame*

- You don’t know how, but not only are you able to stand…you can also walk the next morning.

- So there you are, hovering over the stove. Busily making your new boyfriend’s 'mutually agreed upon' victory breakfast, wearing his very oversized Leafs shirt.

- Hay comes up behind, sporting only his extremely cheesy Leafs boxers. Pressing against you, one hand rests on your hip and the other snakes under your shirt…giving your breast a good squeeze. “I was right; you do look better in blue and white.”

- Shivering at his touch, a wicked grin spreads across your face. “Mmh, I don’t know…think you’d look better in mine…just saying.”

- You got a hard pinch for that…worth it.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[togrowoldinv]

Heartbeat

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

When Yelena gets in a car accident, you reunite with her and her sister after years of not seeing each other

Note: I love Natasha and I love Yelena so here’s this. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

When you got a call in the middle of the night, you knew it was nothing good. You listened carefully as the doctor told you that your best friend had been in a car accident.

Your brain racked as you tried to think of who that might be. Then she told you her name. Yelena. You haven’t seen her in years, but you are still her emergency contact in her phone. Nothing truly went wrong in your friendship. Just childhood friends who grew apart.

No matter the distance between you, you got in your car and drove to the hospital. Three hours later you pulled into the parking lot. They told you Yelena was still in surgery, so you settled in the waiting room.

That was almost five hours ago now. The doctor enters the room finally. You stand to greet her.

“Yelena is in recovery now,” the woman says. “It’ll be a long road, but she is expected to make a full recovery.”

“Oh, thank god,” you breathe out. “Can I see her?”

The doctor nods and leads you to her room. You take a few deep breaths before you enter. You haven’t seen her in three years, but she still looks like the same girl that you once knew.

Her green eyes open a few moments later. She groans in pain slightly before her attention falls on you. You walk closer to her.

“Y/n?” She asks. You nod. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” you explain. “I don’t know many details, but the doctors say you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, and you’re here because?”

“You must have had me listed in your phone as an emergency contact,” you say, shrugging. You really don’t know why.

“Did you call Natasha?” Yelena asks.

Natasha. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about her in years. You always admired her so much and felt so safe in her presence. But she and Yelena didn’t have the easiest relationship. It’s been so long since you last saw the redhead. Close to eight years. You miss her.

“Oh, um, no,” you say. “You two are talking again?”

Yelena nods. That’s good, you think. They need each other to really be happy. That was always the truth.

“I can call her,” you tell Yelena. You make a move to step out of the room, but Yelena reaches out for you.

“Y/n,” Yelena says. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Yel,” you say, tears fill your eyes.

You pull her into a soft hug. You didn’t realize how much you missed her until you held her in your arms. Every memory of your life together passes through your mind as you squeeze her.

“I’m hungry,” Yelena mumbles into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh. Still the very same Yelena.

“I’ll get you food and call Nat, okay? Be right back.”

You step into the hallway and feel your pulse quicken as you click on Natasha’s name in your contacts. Truthfully, you always hoped Nat would confess her love for you, and you’d live happily ever after. But you never so much have kissed the girl.

The phone rings for a few moments and you begin to wonder if she’ll pick up. Maybe she sees your name and decides not to answer. But your what-iffing stops when Nat answers the phone.

“Hello,” Nat answers. The sound of her voice threatens to make your heart stop.

“Hi- um- hi Natasha,” you say. “I don’t know how to say it so I will just go for it. Yelena was in an accident, but she’s okay. She asked for you, so I called.”

“Where is she?” Natasha asks. You hear some bustling on her end of the line.

“We’re at the hospital.”

“I’m on my way,” Natasha replies. And that’s the end of the call.

You get Yelena some food before you go back to her room. Inside, you catch up with her. Things have been good for both of you. She is an accomplished veterinarian. You knew she would be successful.

You’re laughing about some old joke when Natasha arrives. She walks to Yelena quickly and hugs her sister. You stand back, letting them have a moment. They speak for a moment in Russian before Natasha looks to you.

To your surprise, she rounds the beds and pulls you into a hug. You bury your face in her neck and soak up her touch. She is warm and smells like the fruity hair products she must use. She pulls away but moves her hands to your face.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Natasha says. She always used to call you that. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”  

“I missed you too, Natasha,” you say. You get lost looking into her green eyes. She looks older but in the perfect way.

Yelena coughs to break the moment up between you and Natasha. The older sister drops her hands from your face and turns her attention back to Yelena.

“You should get some sleep, Yelena. That surgery was intense,” Natasha says.

“Such a mom,” Yelena grumbles.

“And a doctor,” Natasha adds. She pulls the covers up Yelena’s body. “We’ll go get some lunch. See you in a bit.”

You follow Natasha out of the room. She knows where to go to the cafeteria, and you put two and two together.

“You work here?” You ask Nat.

“I do,” she replies. “Well, from time to time. I travel for work, but this is technically my home hospital.”

“I didn’t even know you were a doctor,” you say.

“Heart surgeon,” Natasha says. She doesn’t seem phased by how your mouth opens in shock. “What do you do for work?”

You tell Nat about your career and what you’ve been up to. For some reason, it doesn’t feel difficult to talk to her. It’s like no time has gone by. You eat lunch together and continue to catch up.

“I’m glad to see you and Yelena are close again,” you say.

“Yeah,” Natasha says. “I guess last time you saw me Yelena and I were on some rocky ground.”

“You had a big fight. Five years at least of no talking,” you remind her.

“It was six years and four months,” Natasha recounts.

“What happened?”

“The same thing as always, you know. Melina and Alexei. Yelena always keeps things lighter with them, and I was pissed. Until I wasn’t,” Natasha says. “My girlfriend at the time, Wanda, helped me realize how important it was to be talking to my sister.”

“That’s good, Nat. Yel has always needed you to be at her happiest.”

Nat nods. “And she needs you too, y/n. She cried about missing you,” Nat explains.

“I didn’t know that,” you say quietly. Nat scoots her chair closer to yours.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you held her when she cried about me too.”

You did that. Many many times. Nat reaches and takes your hand. She helps you stand up. You follow her down the hallway and into what appears to be a breakroom.

“Did you ever find that person you dreamed about?” Natasha asks.

Her words seem random until you remember the nights you spent with her on the roof of your parents' house. You told her that you dreamed of loving someone and having someone love you back purposefully. She agreed that it was what she wanted too.

“No,” you answer. “Did you?”

“Maybe,” Natasha answers. “But I’m still waiting to see if she loves me back.”

“Oh, well, I hope that she does,” you answer. Nat steps closer to you, and she takes your face in her hands again.

“I hope she does, too,” Natasha says. She leans in, and her lips are inches from touching yours. “Do you love me, y/n?”

“I love you, Natasha,” you whisper.

Natasha’s lips brush against yours softly. You really start to kiss her back when her phone goes off. You wish she would ignore it, but she pulls away.

“Shit,” Natasha says. “It’s Yelena.”

“Does that mean-”

“I’m the cardio surgeon on call,” Natasha says. “Let’s go.”

She leads you out of the breakroom and to the operating room waiting area. Natasha leaves you there as she disappears behind the doors.

[janeyseymour]

Potential part 2 to Bridge Over Troubled Water. Maybe something about them finally confessing their feelings, or the reader finishing their degree and Mel is worried about seeing them less thinking they're going back to working in the suburbs but maybe they get transferred to Abbott. That's if you're feeling up to it of course

So... this took way longer than anticipated, but it's here, and she's done (and as always unedited). I hope you enjoy!

Bridge Over Troubled Water Pt 2

Part 1.

WC: 5.5k (exactly!)

Since the two of you finally confessed your feelings for each other, you’ve found the balance between work and home life as well as the dynamic between the two of you as teacher and aide. Really, not much has changed- you can’t blame Ava for having figured the two of you out before even you two knew what there was with the two of you. 

That was two semesters ago, and you’re quickly approaching the end of your masters degree. You’ve been seeing Melissa for a little over a year, and it’s been great. She’s your best friend, the best mentor, and the biggest supporter for you when you need to be told it’s going to be okay in terms of your graduate degree. But now that’s almost finished. You have three more final papers to write, one group presentation, and a speech to finish, and then you’ll have your masters in reading.

“You’re doing great, hon,” your girlfriend tells you as you type away furiously at your laptop at her kitchen island.

You jump nearly a foot in the air. You had been so focused on your paper that you didn’t even realize she had moved from her station at the stove to right behind you. 

“Jesus, Mel,” you chuckle once your shock wears off. “Give a girl some warning first.”

She wraps her arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “I thought you saw me move from the stove. Sorry, babe.”

You turn red. “My bad.”

“It’s alright, amore. You were focused on your paper, and I’m so proud of you.”

“I can’t wait to be done with it all,” you sigh. 

“You’re almost there,” she tells you. “And then you can just relax through the end of the school year with me and figure everything else out during the summer.”

You worry your lip through your teeth. “I think I’ve figured out what I’m doing already though.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

You close your laptop and turn around in her arms. “I think I’m going to go back to the school I was at before- at least for a little bit. I know I have job security there, and the principal already asked me about returning to finish out the school year for one of the old second grade teachers who has to go out on maternity leave- at least to finish up the school year.”

“What?” she sounds shocked. “And you’re going to-“

“I think I have to if I want any sort of job security for next year,” you tell her. “But I’ll still do everything I can to-“

“You’re just going to leave the kids like that? Leave me like that?”

“Baby, it isn’t like that,” you whisper and pull her in closer. “You know how the teaching career paths are. And I know that my old school finishes before Abbott, so I can come in for the last week with you, and-“

Melissa takes a shaky breath. “You have to do what’s best for you, as much as it kills me… have you told anyone else?”

“Just Ava,” you mumble. “I was going to tell you tomorrow when we went out for dinner.”

“Okay.” She bites her lip. She knows you have to do what’s best for you, and she knows you’re right. You need job security. And she’ll be fine with the two classes together again; the two of you have pretty much figured out how to teach both classes seamlessly. But now she’s worried about how this is going to affect the relationship between the two of you- she won’t see you nearly as much.

“Please tell me you’re not mad,” you practically beg her.

“I’m not,” she tells you truthfully. “Just thinking about how the kids are going to miss you… how I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll see me,” you promise her. “We’re dating.”

“I know,” she sighs. “But it’ll be different. I’ll have my classes, you’ll have your class, and when we’re together, we’ll both be swamped with grading and planning.”

“I’m sure we can figure it out, hon. We’ll set aside time to grade together, we’ll see if at least our second grades line up to plan together for, and I’ll make sure that we have our time together to focus on things other than schoolwork.”

“You better,” she chuckles nervously, reaching down to palm your ass. 

“I love you,” you whisper as you set your forehead against hers.

“I love you too,” she tells you, but she’s still nervous.

When you get your degree, Melissa is the first one to wrap you up in a hug, peck your lips, and tell you how proud of you she is. Your parents are second, and they grin when they see how happy you are with your girlfriend. They had been wary in the beginning of your relationship, but now they fully embrace the fiery redhead in your life as family.

The four of you have a wonderful meal provided by Melissa at her house, and your parents sing her praises.

“My god,” your dad chuckles. “What you do with food woman… you should’ve been a chef instead.”

“I thought about it,” your girlfriend laughs. “But I’d say being a teacher worked out just fine.” She gives you a nudge and squeezes your thigh just slightly.

Dinner is wonderful, your parents head out with warm hugs and kisses to both yours and Melissa’s cheeks, and then it’s just the two of you.

“I’m so proud of you,” she tells you as you curl up on the couch together. “So proud.”

“I know you are,” you chuckles softly. “You’ve only told me a million times today.”

“Because I am,” she grins brightly and kisses you again. “My girl’s got her masters, and she’s going to do great… wherever she might end up.”

That night ends with the two of you in bed, sweaty and grinning as she pulls you into her arms. You both get good rest that night.

On your official last day at Abbott as Melissa’s aide, the kids shower you in presents, cards, poems, drawings… anything and everything you could think of- one of the kids brought it in for you- even a jar of pickles. You chuckle at that one.

“I’m assuming this is your doing?”

“I had it put on the list,” she laughs. “And I had to specifically ask for the dill, because I know you refuse to eat gherkins.”

“You’re the best,” you hip check her. 

“I do my best, babe,” she whispers back. “I am going to miss working with you.”

She hands you a note to go along with all of the kids’ stuff.

“Can I read it now, or should I read it later?”

“Maybe later,” Melissa tells you. “For now, enjoy your party, and then we do have dinner with the crew after school today.”

“We do?”

“You think we’d send you off without a true Abbott celebration?” she laughs. “Of course we have a special outing for you- down at Oscar’s- your favorite skanky dive bar.”

“You’re getting the Barbara Howard to my favorite skanky dive bar?”

“I am,” the redhead chuckles. “She loves you a lot, and I promised her it wouldn’t be too much since it’s a Wednesday at four in the afternoon.”

After many tearful goodbyes (even though you promise the kids they’ll see you for the last week of school), you walk out of the school hand in hand with your girlfriend.

“Can I open it now?” You clutch the envelope Melissa had handed you earlier in the day.

“If you really want to,” she rolls her eyes playfully as she opens the door for you. “But you can’t get all weepy. We have our friends to meet, and they don’t need to know I’m soft for you.”

“Everyone knows you’re soft for me,” you tease her. “Janine fully walked in on you massaging my back the one day in the teachers’ lounge because I had terrible cramps.”

“And I told the kid that if she told anyone, she’d regret it,” Melissa tells you.

“And then she told everyone, and you still haven’t made her regret it because you love me too much to harass our friend.”

“Shut up. Are you going to read it or not?”

“Maybe later if it’s going to make me cry.”

“I really am dating a softy, aren’t I?”

“You really are,” you grin innocently. “And you love me for it.”

When the two of you walk inside, everyone else is already there with drinks in hand.

“Aye, there’s our girl!” Jacob grins and wraps you up in a hug. “You did it!”

“I did,” you chuckle as you awkwardly pat his back before pulling away and being passed around to your friends. 

You make eye contact with your usual bartender, who just smirks and starts pouring your drink for you. He slides it over to you with a wink and a nod of the head. “Congrats, kid. We’re gonna miss having you come around here.”

“I think everybody forgets that I’m not really going anywhere,” you laugh as you take a sip of your beer and find your way into Melissa’s side again. “This one’s keeping me around for a long time, so I’ll be around.”

“But it’ll be different,” Janine argues. “You won’t be at Abbott with us anymore, and you won’t get to see half the stuff we talk about!”

“I wish I didn’t have to see half the stuff we talk about,” you joke. “And I will be back for the last week of school. It’s really just these three weeks that I’m filling in at my old school.”

There’s a nagging thought in the back of your girlfriend’s mind that tells her that might be your actual last day at Abbott if you decide to go back to your school in the suburbs.

“I, for one,” Ava cuts in. “Am glad that I will no longer have competition over who is the hottest in the school.”

“Ava!” Melissa rolls her eyes. 

Everybody raises their glasses towards you and cheers to you and your accomplishment.

After quite of few hours of drinking, exchanging silly Abbott stories, recounting how you and your girlfriend tiptoed around each other’s feelings for quite a bit before finally just biting the bullet and dating and how Ava won a shitload of money off of Mr. Johnson over their bet, and some good bar food, your crew starts to head out.

“You did good, sweetheart,” Barb hugs you gently. “Gerald is here to pick me up now, but I assume I’ll see you on Saturday for shopping?”

“You will,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“I’m just going to miss you so much!” Janine wipes a tear as she lunges forward to hug you.

“I think she had a little too much to drink,” Gregory takes his girlfriend by the hand to pry her off of you. “Congrats, Y/N. Hopefully, you’ll rejoin us at Abbott soon.”

“I’m with them, but it was really great getting to work with you!” Jacob grins. “And getting to see our favorite toughie soften up for you has been-“ he cuts himself off at the glare from your girlfriend. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.” The three of them exit quickly, Jacob and Gregory half carrying Janine.

That leaves you with Melissa, Ava, and Mr. Johnson.

“I’m actually going to have to do my job in that room now that you’re leaving,” Mr. Johnson sighs. “It was nice having you around, kid.”

“Thanks, Mr. J,” you chuckle. He gives you a gentle pat on the back, downs his beer and heads out.

“I know you’re going back to your old school, but…” Ava tells you. “Know Abbott will always welcome you back with open arms- even if that means I’ll have competition for who is the hottest.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes as she pulls you closer by the hip. “It isn’t a contest, Ava. It’s Y/N, and then me… The Philly twelve and Philly eleven.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the principal laughs. “My mans is here, but I’ll catch you later.” She heads out.

“I’ll take the tab now,” you tell your bartender. 

“It’s all covered,” he waves you off. You glance to your girlfriend, who shrugs. “It’s on us… for our favorite teacher crew, celebrating one of our favorite teachers from the crew.”

You leave a generous tip before you and the redhead head out of the bar.

“Did you have a good day?” Melissa asks you gently as you get into the car.

“I did,” you smile softly. “It was a bit over the top, considering I’ll continue to see everyone, but… it was all very sweet.”

“You know we all love you,” your girlfriend tells you as she pulls her car out of the parking spot. 

“I know,” you say softly, resting your hand on her thigh. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your note. I’m waiting to read it when we’re inside.”

“I do need to get ready for work tomorrow… my first day without my gorgeous girl next to me. So I have to shower when we get home.”

“That’s fine. I’ll read it then.”

Your girlfriend tries to tempt you with a dual shower, but you politely decline.

“I actually need to shower, you actually need to shower, and we both know nothing gets done when we shower together,” you tell her pointedly.

“Actually,” she smirks. “We both get done.”

“Melissa!” you groan.

“I’m not wrong,” she grins as she strips her clothes, hoping to entice you. It doesn’t work, but she knows you’re watching as she heads into the bathroom.

With a shaky breath, you take the card out of the envelope that she had given you at school today. It’s a beautifully decorated card- one that she clearly put a lot of effort into making special just for you. You open it to see her beautiful penmanship.

Y/N, it reads. Congratulations, amore. I’m so unbelievably proud of you- you did it! I never had a doubt in my mind that you could do it, and I truly consider you to be one of the brightest lights there is in this odd profession we’ve found ourselves in. 

I want to take this time to tell you how eternally grateful I am to have found you. I know we got off to a rocky start- I was angry at Ava and my last aide, and I was about to admit defeat when I stormed into her office. When I looked at you though, all that stress melted away. I would realize later that any time I looked at you, I would feel more at peace. 

I expected you to waltz into my room and add to the mayhem, much like Ashley did, but you proved me wrong from the start. You immediately proved that you were a pro- that you were worth keeping around. From your organization to the way that teaching and classroom management just comes so naturally to you… you’re the real deal, babe. 

And somehow, in the middle of the absolute chaos that we call our classroom, I fell for you. I was able to see every side of you- the professional and the personal. I was able to see the way that you worked seamlessly between organizing papers and handling the students in a matter of minutes of you being there. I saw the woman who is tough on the kids when they need it, but also knows how to soften up for a student who needs some extra love. I saw the goofball who isn’t afraid to be the butt of a joke because you create the joke and embrace it. I’ve loved watching you maneuver all of the staff- who even I haven’t figured out quite yet. I watched you grow professionally, but I also watched you grow personally. I’ve loved being able to be here for you through it all- all of the highs of celebrating when you got a 100% on an essay you worked your ass off to write by a deadline, to loving you through when your professor gave you a wrongful failing grade and we worked our asses off to write a better paper. I��ve loved watching you come into your own and figure out who you are. But mostly, I’ve loved loving you. I’ve loved being able to hold you on a good or a bad day, being able to cherish our time together and make memories that I never thought I would have. I’ve loved being your person, and you being mine. Thank you for being my person, thank you for letting me be your person, and here’s to you, my love. Congratulations.

She signed her name at the bottom with a heart scrawled next to it, and you can’t help but wipe a few tears away. You look towards her bathroom and smile when you hear her voice singing softly. You strip down before heading into the bathroom.

“Hon?” she calls.

You step into the shower with her, and her eyes are immediately all over you. You crash your lips into hers.

“I read your note,” you mumble against her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

That night, the two of you hardly get any sleep.

You take the next few days off to ensure that you’re prepared for your new second graders, and then that weekend, you and Melissa find yourselves diving into your work to make sure that everything is just as it should be. You know you’re in good standing with your school, but you want to make sure that you still impress.

You end up staying at your apartment out in the suburbs (you aren’t even really sure why you have it anymore- you almost stay exclusively at your girlfriend’s in Philly) on Sunday night so that you’re closer to work.

“I’ll be fine, Mel,” you promise her over the phone as you’re driving.

“I just know that you’re nervous, and sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you,” she sighs into the phone. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay over with you?”

“I mean… you know you’re more than welcome to, but that commute for you is going to be a bitch tomorrow,” you chuckle. 

“It’s a worthwhile sacrifice for you, my dear,” she tells you. “Let me pack a bag, and I’ll be there not long after you.”

After a night of Melissa assuring you that you were going to be just fine- it’s just first day jitters, you wake up to an empty bed. You can smell breakfast being cooked. You yawn, get yourself dressed for work, and stumble into the kitchen. Melissa is already ready for school, and she’s just plating breakfast when you walk in. She smiles gently at you, pouring a cup of coffee for you as you slowly make your way into her arms.

“Good morning, my love,” she whispers, kissing your head. “Are you ready?”

“I’m gonna have to be,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“Well, I have to head out if I’m going to make it in time for the news, but I’ll drive back here to hear all about your first day? We’ll cook up somethin’ nice?”

You nod. “I love you. Thank you for staying over with me to help calm my nerves.”

“Anything for you,” she kisses you softly before slinging her bags around her. “Keep me updated throughout the day.”

Your first day is great. The kids are so excited to see you, your old coworkers are thrilled to have you back, and you don’t necessarily miss the piss stench that would waft itself in from the streets at Abbott.

But you find yourself comparing this school to Abbott- the odd little school in center city that has your heart. You find yourself missing sitting in the teacher’s lounge with your girlfriend and your friends, joking over whatever happened that day. You find yourself missing the knowing glances from Melissa when one of your kids says something funny. You catch yourself looking for someone to share a look with, even if it’s just one of the camera men you’ve grown fond of. 

After your first day, you drive yourself back to your apartment, fully ready to pour over quite a few notes and start planning for the next few weeks. Melissa strolls in not too much later, a grocery bag in hand.

“There’s my girl,” she smiles and makes her way over to you. She kisses you deeply. “How was your first day, amore?”

You shrug. “It was nice being back.”

You don’t fail to see the way her shoulders shrink slightly. 

“But I missed you today.”

“Well, you have me now, before I have to head back to my house,” she tells you. “I’ll cook us up some dinner?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you smile as you wrap your arms around her.

“I can’t really cook if you don’t let me go,” she quips. Begrudgingly, you let her go. “So tell me about your day.”

You do. She cooks dinner. The two of you find your way into your bedroom. After quite a few rounds, she sighs and cleans you up.

“So…” she sighs softly. “When will I get to see you again?”

You bite your lip. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Baby, that’s… four days away.”

“I know, but I’m already drowning in planning, and the kids are working on some of their projects from their teacher that I’ll have to grade, and I-“

“It’s okay, love,” she promises you, knowing you’ll get worked up. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“I’ll come down for the weekend,” you tell her. “I promise. I might have to do some work, but we can spend the weekend together.”

She nods, kisses your nose, then your cheek, then your lips before slipping out of bed. 

You don’t end up seeing Melissa on Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday. You actually don’t see her until the following weekend until she comes over to your place after you hadn’t texted her all day on Friday. She’s worried about you.

“Y/N?” Melissa calls as she uses her key to let herself in. You’re asleep on some papers that you’re attempting to grade. “Oh, hon,” she sighs.

She shakes your shoulder gently, and you immediately sit up straight in a panic. Who was in your-

“It’s just me, amore,” she whispers and kisses your head. “It’s just me. You’re alright.”

You bring your hand to your chest as you continue to try to steady your breathing. “You had me so scared.”

“I’m sorry to just drop in on you,” your girlfriend apologizes. “I got worried when I didn’t get a text this morning or at all today.”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately say. “I’ve been up to my eyeballs in grading… and I may have taken a cat nap.”

“I think the cat nap took you, love,” she chuckles. “Have you slept at all?”

“I slept for like forty-five minutes last night?” you blush. “I was up making sure that all of the things for the last week of school were ready.”

“Babe,” the redhead says sternly as she lifts you into her arms. “We’ve talked about how that’s not healthy.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh as you cuddle closer to her. “I just-“ you yawn. “I want to make sure everything is perfect for them next week.”

“You need sleep. And you always could’ve called me to ask for help.”

“You have both classes though,” you mumble, sleep already threatening to take you. That’s really the last thing you remember until you wake up again. Your girlfriend’s warm body is pressed up against yours, and you roll over to look at her.

“Sleep,” Melissa grumbles against your head. You feel her press a delicate kiss to your temple.

“I have to finish everything up,” you sigh as you try to pull away.

“I graded everything, and I made sure their bags were all made up, and I made sure the stuff for their party is in order… you really need to utilize your classroom parents more; how much did you spend out of your own pocket?”

“More than I’m willing to admit,” you mutter. You pull away from her slightly as you realize everything she did for you. “Mel. You didn’t have to-”

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to while you got some much deserved sleep. Now, did you eat before you fell asleep grading?”

You shake your head sheepishly against her chest.

“So if I order Korean, you’ll be happy?”

“You know how to treat a girl right,” you sigh in content. Your eyes flutter shut again.

“I’ll call it in and wake you the food gets here,” she chuckles as she kisses your head again.

Your final week with your second grade class passes quickly, and while you grew to love those kids, you find yourself thrilled to be able to set foot back in Abbott with your girlfriend. Ava had graciously added you back on as an aide, even if just for the last week of school- the lord knows Melissa needs help calming down over thirty children during the final few days of school.

You’re greeted with whoops and hollers as you enter the break room. It’s like nothing changed. Melissa makes your coffee in the mug you usually drank, you sit in between the two veteran teachers while you watch the news, and then the two of you walk hand in hand down the hall to your classroom.

“Do they still remember me?” you ask her quietly as you perch yourself on her desk.

“They’ve been chattering about you nonstop,” your girlfriend tells you. “They’re so excited to see you ag-”

“Miss Y/N!” one of your kids comes running in. She immediately tackles you in a hug, and you have to place a hand on Melissa in order to steady yourself before you wrap her up in your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you grin. “I missed you!”

“We missed you!” the little girl grins.

As the rest of the kiddos come trickling in, they greet you with bear hugs and lots of chatter about all of the things the redhead has been teaching them. 

Before you know it, you’re saying goodbye to the Abbott crew for the summer, and probably for the foreseeable future. You had been offered your position back at your school in the suburbs, and you hadn’t been offered a position at Abbott- as much as you would love to come back. You leave the school helping your girlfriend carry a few things out of the classroom with a sigh.

“It’s been a good run,” you sigh softly. “I’m going to miss this place.”

“Abbott’s gonna miss you,” Melissa mumbles quietly.

You spend the summer with the fiery redhead, often times at the beach. Occasionally, Barbara would join you, but for the most part it’s just you and your girl.

The beginning of the school year starts to creep up on you quickly though. You’re actually in the middle of decorating your new classroom, Melissa holding the push pins for you when your phone starts to ring.

Your girlfriend glances over at your phone. “Ava’s callin’.”

“Hand it here,” you request, a confused look on your face.

“Hey,” you say into the phone, as you cradle it between your ear and your shoulder. You continue to try to pin up the bulletin board. “Trying to get ahold of Melissa?”

“If I wanted Schemmenti, I would’ve called Schemmenti,” she tells you bluntly. “No, girl, I’m trying to get ahold of you!”

“Oh?” You pause your actions.

“Girl, Latisha just quit ‘cause she got a new job. Suburban white girl couldn’t handle it,” the principal of Abbott says. “So, naturally- as owner of the school: I thought I would bring you back! As a third grade teacher!”

Your eyes grow wide. Melissa’s do too; she can hear the loud woman through the speaker. 

You stammer out a “W-what? R-really?”

“Of course!” she grins into the phone. “So, what do you say?”

“I- I have a contract at Old Eagle,” you say softly, a frown on your face.

“So break that bitch!”

“I-“ you pause. You glance at your girlfriend looking at you hopefully. “I can try. When do you need an answer by?”

“Today,” she sighs dramatically. “If you can’t take it, I gotta hire someone else, and it’s gonna be a bitch trying to find someone two weeks before school starts.”

“Let me- uh, I have to go talk to my principal, but I- okay,” you start to think out loud as you climb down from the desk you’re currently standing on.

“Get back to me soon. I can’t hold this job for you forever,” she tells you before hanging up. 

Melissa is looking at you with curiosity. “So, what’re you gonna do, hon?”

“I’ll be back,” you tell her as you give her a quick peck on the cheek. “I have to try to quit.”

You practically sprint down to the principal’s office. You speak with the principal about your situation, and despite his efforts to keep you at Old Eagle, you tell him your heart belongs to Abbott. 

Two hours later, after far too much paperwork, you return to your classroom- your almost classroom. Melissa had finished your bulletin board for you, and now she’s scrolling through her phone with her cat-eyed glasses on.

“Sorry, hon,” you apologize. “I didn’t think it would take that long.”

“Well?” She looks at you imploringly.

“I have to call Ava and tell her I will be accepting the second grade position at Abbott,” you grin brightly. “And then I have to take all of this down to set it up in my own classroom- right next to yours.”

Ava is delighted with your news, telling you she’s thankful that she won’t have to interview “any boring ass people who will leave in three weeks anyway”. Then she tells you to get your tasty ass into Abbott today if possible to sign your contract and start decorating for your class.

“I know we were supposed to have a nice dinner tonight, but-”

“You signing the papers to get your contract at Abbott is way more important than our dinner, amore,” Melissa says as she starts taking down the things you’ve place around. “And besides, we can always have a nice dinner afterwards.”

The two of you head down to the school in Philly, you sign your papers, and start to set up your room before heading back to her house. You pull your laptop up, eager to sign back in to your Abbott email and check your roster for this upcoming school year. She cooks, and by the time dinner is ready, you’re looking for apartments to move into in Philadelphia.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, hon?” she asks as she slides your plate over to you. “I know you ain’t still looking at your roster.”

“Apartments,” you sigh. “I figure now that I don’t have any ties to my suburban school and my lease is up in October, I might as well make the move out here.”

Your girlfriend bites her lip nervously before blurting out, “What if you just moved in with me?”

You have to stop yourself from dropping your jaw. “What?”

“I mean… you’re always here and spending the night anyway. You have a drawer at my house. Why not just- move in?”

“Are you being serious right now?” You ask her as you stand and make your way to her side of the table. 

She gives a noncommittal hum. “It’d make sense. If you-”

“I would love to,” you tell her as you crash your lips together.

The next few weeks are hectic for the both of you. In between preparing for the school year, packing up your apartment, and then development week, you both are up to your eyeballs in work. But you’re always together, and that’s what matters.

There really isn’t even a big shift in moving in with your girlfriend. She was right. Half of your things were there anyway; now it’s just official that the two of you share a home. And it truly feels like a home- much more of a home than the dingy apartment you had out in the suburbs ever was. 

On the first day of school, the two of you walk in hand in hand, having taken only one car. You watch the news together with your crew, and then you head off to your own classroom. She heads to hers. And when you go to stand outside of your room to greet your new students, you catch a glimpse of Melissa. In that moment, you know you made the right choice. Abbott is home. Melissa is home. 

[itsabouttimex2]

Do you have any headcanons for after an escape attempt with each monkey demon ( Mk , Monkey king and macaque) What would be their reaction at first? What would they do when they find you? How stricter would they get? What would they start doing differently after the attempt?

MK, as usual, has very different responses depending on the season he’s in.

Season 1 MK probably doesn’t even consider the possibility that Y/N could “escape”. This is when the relationship between the two of you is at it’s healthiest, before this poor boy goes through hell and back.

You aren’t locked up, he doesn’t have you hidden away, there’s nowhere that you’re explicitly forbidden to go- there’s nothing to escape from. His assumption isn’t “Y/N is running away from me!” or “I can’t let them escape!” but instead, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/N… so I’ll drop everything to go visit them right now!”

Sometimes he abandons all prior goals to run off and see you. Sometimes he rushes through a fight and ends it a little more… fiercely than his opponents would have liked.

Once the trauma starts rolling in and Y/N becomes his coping mechanism as much as they are his friend, MK starts to personally define exactly what counts as “escape”.

You aren’t allowed to leave his side without telling where you’ll be going and when you’ll be back. If you’re a competent enough fighter to take on a Bull Clone or two, he won’t push this ‘rule’ as hard. And if you can’t do that?

Then MK makes a serious push for you to train with him. He’ll beg and pester Wukong to teach you at least some of the 72 Transformations as a form of defending yourself or getting out of nasty scrapes without his help. Eventually, his mentor concedes (after some serious bribery on MK’s part) and allows you to take part in the sessions.

But until you can reasonably take care of yourself against two or three opponents at once, MK is by your side every minute he gets the chance. Running off or giving him the slip means little once he’s mastered his Gold Vision, which he does very quickly. Or he can extend his pole to the skies to get a much better view of the surrounding area to see exactly where you ran off to.

Give him the slip too many times, and MK will tie your wrist to his with his headband, ensuring that you don’t get “lost” as he drags you along after him.

“C’mon, Y/N! I already got permission from Pigsy for you to stay the night!”

“That’s sweet of you both, really… but last time I stayed the night, it turned into a week.”

“I know! That was the best, wasn’t it?! Maybe this time, we can stretch it out to a month!”

Sun Wukong will let it slide once. Just once, he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, choosing to believe that you wouldn’t go running off with a very good reason. After that, his restrictions mount and your freedoms decline one by one. Each consecutive escape brings you one step close to being locked inside Shuilian Cave, where he decides that you are safest.

But that’s for a later day, once you’ve run his trust dry.

For now, he believes in you.

So he’ll let you leave, giving you a single day to tend to whatever business that you needed to attend to so urgently that you left.

All alone. In the middle of the night. With a single packed bag.

Wukong will let this one first escape slide, because lord only knows that he’s pulled so many horseshit antics that his kid/friend/student/whatever Y/N is running off once isn’t that big of a deal. And really…

He wants to believe in you here. He wants to think that this is something you’re doing for a very good reason, instead of just being a desperate attempt to get away from him.

When the single day he allots you is over and done, you can start counting out your precious, meager minutes of freedom one by one.

In less than an hour, his flying cloud blazes through the sky and blisters the earth like a comet, leaving a crater of destruction and cinders where it lands.

And aboard the vaporous mount is none other the Great Sage himself, arms folded and grin forced.

“Hey there, bud. You been out here having fun, huh?”

No vigor or vim to line his words. No electric cheer to fuel his fluid movements. No warmth in his tone.

It’s almost hard to call him Sun Wukong.

But it is him here, and he’s here for you. He offers you a hand, stiff and tense. The way the acts makes it clear there’s no choice but to take it, not when the air grows thick and the tension is stormy.

“C’mon, bud. Time to head home.”

Pre-Season 4 Macaque is the only one on this list that’s immoral enough to outright kidnap someone, in my opinion. MK might guilt you into staying with him, and while Sun Wukong would technically commit kidnapping, it’s by virtue of not letting you leave instead of forcibly taking you away. It’d be more along the lines of false imprisonment.

But Macaque?

If all his careful maneuvers and schemes prove inefficient in keeping you close, he’ll switch to brute force in the blink of an eye.

Macaque; at the start, gently manipulates you. His shackles are first gossamer, innocuous and kind. He builds you up and tears you down in increments, never swaying too far to either side. You never feel confident enough to leave, never feel hurt enough to lash out.

He doesn’t chase after you. He makes you feel unstable and dependent, then molds you into seeing him as a shelter that you aren’t strong enough to leave.

It’s a brutal process for Y/N, especially if they’re his student, because he intentionally picks a lonely and insecure person for the sake of rivaling MK.

And if you do somehow break free from the psychological and emotional strings he uses to puppeteer you about, Macaque simply switches to physically stringing you up with his shadows and forcing you to act out your deepest insecurities as he narrates them to an audience of shadow clones.

“Poor little Y/N… forever on their own, watching from the shadows while all the rest of the world laughs and loves with one another.”

The shadows around your body maneuver and mold you, forcing you to wave your hands and walk, dragging your lips into frowns and smiles. Every little shame and self-doubt you possess is bared to the light, bared to his shadows, and you can’t help but be strung along as a passive watcher in your very own story.

You break into tears halfway through, devolving into hysteric sobbing by the end.

And Macaque; no longer a shelter but instead a jail, offers you comfort to reel you back into his grasp. He’ll take you into his arms as you weep, promising to make you stronger, strong enough to forget the past and all that he’s forcing you to leave behind.

Now that you’re rendered to your most reduced state, he can start to work his magic.

“Trust me, kiddo… everything I’m doing, I’m doing for your own good. You get me?”

[ereardon]

The Backup || Chapter 1 [Jake Seresin x Reader]

Summary: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Implied smut, cursing

WC: 3.2K

Masterlist here

[Please see note at the end, tag list is closed but please follow/turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead]

“That can’t happen again.”  

“It will.” 

You sighed loudly, flinging yourself backward onto the mound of pillows, knowing that he was right. Jake rolled off the bed, tugging on his boxers. 

He grinned. “Any more bad dates planned for this week?” 

“A blind date on Friday,” you replied, rolling onto your side to face him as Jake got dressed. “Someone that a secretary from my work knows.” 

“A blind date, really?” 

Ignoring his comment, you replied, “What about you?” 

“No plans.” 

“Which means that you’ll have a date lined up by Thursday.” 

“And it’ll be a flop and we’ll be right back here on Friday night.” 

“I’m serious Jake, this can’t keep happening.” You stepped out of bed, slipping on a silk robe and tying it tightly around your middle. “We can’t be each other’s fallback every time a date goes sideways.” 

“So end it,” he said. “You’re the one that called me tonight, remember?” 

“I’m weak,” you replied and Jake chuckled. 

“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart, but weak isn’t one of them. Except when it comes to those mall pretzels.” 

“Well those are objectively the best.” 

“True.” 

You watched as Jake finished getting dressed, tying his shoelaces, slipping on his jacket. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

“Are we fucking each other up by doing this? Like are we the reason that every single date goes bad? Because I feel like lately they all end up sucking.” 

“The dates are bad because our options are bad,” Jake replied. “We’re not cursed, Stinky. That’s just how these things go. You date and date and just when you think you want to fling yourself over the Golden Gate you find one person who suddenly makes things work. And then you live your weird Hallmark lives together forever.” 

“You, Jake Seresin, believe that?” You raised your eyebrows. “What happened to the guy I met three years ago who didn’t realize that girls don’t want to come over to your fucking Tenderloin apartment and see a bed without a bed frame?” 

“I loved that apartment and it was dirt cheap,” Jake argued. “Besides, you’re not much better. Remember when you thought guys actually liked girls who wore Birkenstocks?” 

“They’re comfortable!” 

“You looked like you were going to yell at me for not using a reusable jar to grind my own peanut butter at Whole Foods for twenty dollars an ounce. It was heinous. Also they smelled like ass.” Hence, the nickname that you hoped would die but never did. 

“You’re just saying that because your type is girls who stomp around in size five Aquazzura heels on Market Street and have their daddy’s Amex card numbers memorized.” 

“Better than your type. Mr. Couch potato, looks practically homeless and asks you to split the check at dinner because he’s too cheap to pay for your baked potato.” 

“That happened twice, that’s not a pattern.” 

“More than once is concerning.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re good in bed because I can’t fucking stand you.” 

“Stop stroking my ego.” 

“Goodnight, Seresin,” you said, walking toward the kitchen, your back to him. “Slam the door on your face on your way out, won’t you?” 

“Night Stinky,” he said and you could hear his footsteps trailing down the hallway. “See you next weekend!” 

You grabbed a half-empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge door and slammed it, a little too hard, the sound of bottles inside rattling as you unscrewed the cap and chugged directly from the bottle. It was acidic, probably too old, but it would do the trick. Anything to block out Jake’s words that haunted the quiet air of your apartment even after he was gone.

He was right. Somehow the two of you always fell into bed together. The dates always went belly up. Hinge, Raya, Bumble, League. No app worked. No blind set up. It was like clockwork: you’d spend an hour getting ready for a date, and within five minutes you’d know that at the end you’d call an Uber to take you to Jake’s. Or vice versa: he’d show up at your door with a pocketful of condoms and a smirk. It always ended the same way. For almost a year, you and Jake had been filling the gaps of your dating life with each other. Friends with benefits. No strings. 

And, of course, you made a point to keep it from the friend group. Coyote would throw an absolute fit if he found out. He had made a point the first time he introduced you to his friend group, which had later adopted you as one of their own, to steer clear of Jake. 

“Before we go in, there’s one rule.” 

You frowned, looking up at him. His face, normally so relaxed and chill, was creased in concern. The two of you had known each other for more than half of your lives, growing up in houses across the street from each other. At night, sometimes you would flick the lamp on your desk off and on as a kid to get his attention. He would do the same, powering up the old Walkie Talkies your mom had given the two of you one summer so you could whisper to each other in the darkness, your own secret club. This was all before cell phones were stapled to every kid’s ear, even before AIM or Facebook. Javy had been your friend for what felt like every minute of your life. 

“Don’t fall for Jake’s bullshit, OK?” Coyote said. “He’s suave and shit, but he’s going to hurt you if you let him.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

He shook his head. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

Coyote had seen you at every low point in your life. When your prom date stood you up and he stepped in. When you almost failed out of sophomore year because your math professor had a chip against you. When your dad died after freshman year of college and the two of you stood side by side in your backyard in the rain, not speaking, but you knew he was there and that was enough. 

Coyote had been there for all of it. You knew, deep down, that he had your best interests in mind. 

But then you had walked into the bar on 22nd Street and Jake’s golden head had been thrown back in a laugh and you felt your heartbeat speed up in your chest. The way he looked at you that first night — it was like you were a prize and he was operating the claw machine with an endless supply of quarters. You flirted with him, to Javy’s disdain, but at the end of the night when he slipped his hand onto your bare knee you pulled away with a grin. 

You weren’t going to make it easy for him. 

At first that’s all it was. A chase, flirtation. Coyote’s eyes darting angrily between you and Jake as the two of you argued over the pool table or in a game of darts. The time all six of you — Jake, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob and Bradley — rented bikes in Golden Gate Park and the last mile was just you and Jake, ahead of everyone else, racing as fast as you could until your lungs threatened to give out and the greenery of the park opened up onto Ocean Beach. 

The two of you had ditched your bikes, plopping down into the sand, gasping for breath, the waves slapping softly along the shore. 

“You win,” Jake said. 

“I know, I got here a solid ten seconds before you.” 

He looked over with a grin. “No, I mean you win, Y/N. I’m not going to try and sleep with you. We can be friends, or whatever the hell it is that girls want.” 

You shook your head, laughing. “All it took was getting beat in a physical competition and you’re giving up? Jake Seresin, I’m appalled.” 

He laid back against the sand and you did the same, heads only a foot or so apart. 

“What girls want,” you added, “is to be pursued not chased. Is to feel wanted but not smothered. Sexy but still intelligent.”

“That’s too much to ask for.” 

“You asked what we want, not what’s attainable.” 

“Is that what you want, Y/N?” 

In that moment, you wanted him. You wanted to feel his hard, sweaty muscles pressed against your body. Feel his silky golden hair beneath your fingertips. His rough voice in your ear. 

You rolled over on top of Jake, surprise lacing his face, your hands digging into the sand on either side of his head. Your hips grazed over his, just a hint, and Jake reached up one hand, brushing the hair out of your face where it had fallen from your ponytail. 

“I’m not going to tell you what I want,” you whispered, smirking. “More fun this way.” 

“Oh you’re evil,” Jake grinned, rolling the two of you over until you were pressed against the sand, his much larger body pinning you down, this time his hips grinding you down against the soft beach. You could feel him everywhere and it took everything in your body not to moan out into the open air for all the families and tourists to hear. The rush knowing that any minute the rest of the group could catch up and find the two of you only made your heart beat faster in your chest. “I’m up for the challenge.” 

“You better be.” 

The two of you laid there, Jake’s arms boxing you in, his chest lifting against yours. If you reached up a few inches you would be able to slide your lips against his. 

But instead, you shoved him off and he landed in the sand as you laughed. You saw it in his eyes at that moment. 

You had Jake Seresin’s interest. For now. 

***

“Hey, you’re early for once.” Coyote leaned in, kissing your cheek gently. 

You grinned. “Snagged a front row parking spot.” 

“Grab a table, I’ll get us some coffees.” 

“Flat white?” 

He nodded, heading off toward the counter. You picked a spot in the corner, a big round table. The door swung open and Bob and Bradley walked in. You waved, Bradley sliding into the booth with a grin. “Hey Stink,” he said and you rolled your eyes. The nickname had stuck, despite your best effort to shake it over the last few years. 

“Bradshaw. What did y’all get up to last night?” 

“The usual,” he said as Bob sat down with two black coffees and slid one to Bradley. “Started out at the bars in Richmond.” 

“And ended up in some twentysomething’s bed in the Marina,” Bob finished. 

You shot him a smile which he returned with a shy grin. “Just you two idiots out on the town.” 

“Phoenix was there, and Jake.” 

His ears must have been burning, because the moment his name was said, Jake sauntered through the door, looking far too fresh for nine in the morning after a night of drinking and debauchery. 

You should know. The two of you had, predictably, landed in bed together after your blind date. Just like Jake said you would. Just like you had hoped you wouldn’t. He spotted the three of you in the corner and smirked, lifting a pair of sunglasses onto the top of his head and heading toward the counter. 

Coyote slid into the spot next to you. “Flat white. And I got you a croissant. You look hungover.” 

“You’re a dick.” 

“Just smile and look pretty,” he replied and you grunted, ripping off a piece of croissant and stuffing it into your mouth. “Where’s Nat?” 

“Running late,” Bob said, checking his phone. 

Jake took a seat across the table from you, a cup of hot coffee in one hand, a donut in the other. He took a bite, powdered sugar coating his upper lip in a faux mustache. “So everyone here got some last night?” 

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Bob’s face glowed pink. Coyote dragged a wet tea bag out of his cup. “Could you be cruder?” 

“Yes.” It rolled off of his tongue effortlessly. 

You scowled and took a sip of coffee. Phoenix crashed through the cafe doors, flinging herself into the remaining chair and swiping the last of your croissant, shoving it in her mouth. “Hey.” 

“Morning Princess,” Bradley said. “Long night? We lost you after the second bar.” 

She shrugged and leaned over, taking a sip of his coffee. “Ew, no cream, really Bradshaw? Anyways, I ran into Nina.” 

The group groaned. Nina was Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend and it was communally agreed that she should stay an ex. If Natasha’s belongings on a curb and her box of coats on literal fire weren’t proof enough, Nina had also stolen from her once and racked up a monumental credit card bill that Phoenix later managed with the bank. 

“She’s changed!” 

“Nobody changes,” you replied. 

“Well how was your night, Stink?” she asked. “That blind date work out?” 

“He smelled like Fritos and told me his goal in life was to quit insurance sales and start a Lord of the Rings themed coffee bar.” 

“That’s lowkey kind of cool,” Bob replied. 

“Let’s just say it didn’t work out.” 

“So you went home alone?” 

Across the table, Jake smirked. You hid your face in your coffee mug. “Yeah. Alone.” 

***

“So you work at a bank. That’s cool.” 

You sighed, taking a sip of wine. “I’m actually a hedge fund analyst.” 

Bill, your date for the night, frowned. “Bob told me you worked at a bank. I thought you were a teller or something. So you work.” 

You were going to kill Floyd. Bill was tall, you’d give him that. But this was the third hint he’d dropped that screamed of misogyny. The first was when you ordered a steak and a glass of red and he asked why you weren’t getting a salad. The second was when you ordered a second glass of wine and he frowned, saying wasn’t it bad for your fertility to be drinking so much? “Yes, I work,” you replied. “And do you work?” 

He puffed out his chest. “Of course. I’m a real estate agent.” 

“And does that pay well?” 

He went ashen and then a bright fiery red. You tried to hide your grin behind your wine glass. 

“I’m going to use the restroom.” You slid out from your chair, grabbing your purse and heading toward the front of the restaurant. When Bill looked away, you darted right, out the front doors, practically jogging around the corner. “I’m going to murder Floyd,” you said into the phone. 

Jake’s laugh on the other end was warm. “Again? I thought you were still mad at him for that sous chef-turned yoga instructor who tried to crack your back in the middle of the restaurant.” 

“Just come pick me up?” you begged, looking around. “I’m at some place in the Mission, I’ll send you my location. And hurry, before my date comes out here and tries to get me to put on a costume from Little House on the Prairie.” 

Five minutes later, you were stretching out in the passenger seat of Jake’s car. He had one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, cruising down Van Ness toward the Marina. You resisted the urge to study him: his golden hair illuminated by the headlights of oncoming traffic, the way he smelled like pine and fresh laundry and the smirk that you knew was practically tattooed on his lips. 

Those lips that, try as you might, you couldn’t stop aching for. 

It always ended the same. You and Jake in a pile of tangled limbs in crisp white sheets, sweat pricking at your skin, hair a mess, a soreness already starting to form between your legs. And you’d do it again and again, even if it was wrong. Even if hiding things from Coyote and the rest of the group was becoming next to impossible. Because ending the night with Jake was a hell of a lot better than being alone in your apartment. 

“Stay,” Jake said as you pulled on your jeans, buttoning the top button and turning around in your lacy bra, searching for your shirt that had somehow been flung onto the coffee table. 

You yanked it over your head. “What? No, that’s rule number three.” The two of you had started a list of informal rules for your friends with benefits situation. Rule number one: no getting attached. Rule number two: keep it a secret. Rule number three: no sleepovers. 

“Rules are made to be broken, babe.” 

“Don’t babe me, Seresin,” you grunted, slipping on one stiletto and then the other, examining your hair in the mirror above the dresser. 

“For once, what if you just pretended to like me for more than five seconds when we’re not horizontal.” 

“It’s not an act, Jake,” you replied, whipping around to look at him. He was sitting up in bed, sheet covering his lower half, top half ridiculously muscular and drenched in a thin layer of sweat that only made him glisten in the dull light from the lamp. “You and I? We’re two totally different people. We have good sex and we have the same friends but the similarities stop there. I want someone to actually be in a relationship with. Not just a booty call.” 

“Feeling pretty used over here.” 

“You use me and I use you,” you replied, “that’s how this works. Two-way street.” 

“For a girl who claims to want more than this, you seem to be jumping into my bed a lot.” 

“Fuck you,” you said, but it was lighthearted. 

“I mean it, Y/N,” Jake replied and there was something serious in his tone. “You say you want a real relationship but you don’t even give guys a chance. You find something wrong with them, every single time.” 

“You literally said not two weeks ago that everyone in this city is insane and that’s why none of our dates ever work out.” 

Jake stood up, slipping on a pair of boxers. “That’s true, too. But you’re part of the problem, Stinky. And I think you know it.” 

“I’m leaving,” you said, stomping down the hallway toward the front door. 

“You'll be back here in a few days,��� Jake called out. 

You slammed the door behind you. There was nothing but silence on the other side of the door. Jake wasn’t the type of guy to rush after you, say he was wrong. 

And why would he? Because the truth was, he was right. And you both knew it. 

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[thelastofhyde]

you cut your hair, and take some space. (1)

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 1 of 3 ! (part 2)

warnings. no use of y/n! all spanish text is followed by immediate translation (please note that i am fluent in castilian spanish, therefore some words/phrases may differ from that of other hispanic countries), age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, officer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, so much crying ( reader spends half her time crying over javi p which is honestly a mood ), violence, nondescript depictions of sa ( not javi ), smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 15k

hyde’s input. this was written over the course of four months and could easily be used in court to prove i am, in fact, unequivocally in love with one mr. javier peña. if you take the time to read it, just know i appreciate it so much. i really poured my heart and soul into this and, as someone who's been writing for years, it's been so long since i've written something so self-indulgent that's brought me nothing but joy to write. as the fic has surpassed 40k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it, i've decided to post it in three parts. the fic will be posted in full on ao3 once all three parts are available on tumblr!

“i told you, corazón mia (my heart),” he can't meet your eyes. “made it clear from the start i wasn't looking for anything serious.” “i know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “but if it wasn't serious, why'd you treat me like it was?”

I cut my nose to save some face You cut your hair and take some space.

The mirror is not clean enough to see yourself.

Where there are usually your eyes, there’s a discoloured splotch of brown. A crack runs down the left of what should be your face. Someone’s taken it upon themselves to draw a cartoon penis just where your mouth is. But in your drunken haze and laser focus, you don’t care enough to notice. All you see is the spot where your nose is, a tiny ball of silver nestled just above your right nostril.

It’s something new to fidget with.

On the flip side, it stings like a bitch. Or, more appropriately, like the tequila shots that led you to this run-down tattoo parlour.

You wonder if, come the morning and mental clarity, you’ll regret it.

If you do, you’ll blame him.

Your night was going fine. Good, even. And, with a lack of good nights in the recent week, that was an accomplishment.

You’d dressed up, let loose, had fun. A friend on either arm and a drink close at hand, you’d giggled and gossiped your way through this impromptu girls’ night.

They’d ambushed you, in a way, forced their way through the barricade of tissues and take-out boxes into your apartment. A skimpy dress tossed at your head and four hands dragging you, limb by limb, into the shower.

Get some dinner, hit the town, get fucked up. That was the plan they set out for you.

You skipped dinner, dove head-first into the town.

You were careful all night to never speak of him.

One part fearful it would summon him, another part embarrassed to admit just who you’d gotten tangled up in. A third part, tucked away in a locked closet, ready to do it all over again.

And then it happened.

You didn’t say his name, no.

Not aloud.

You thought it, for just a second, hearing the person beside you at the bar order the same drink you’d watched him nurse time after time. It wasn’t him but, instead, a man far too short and a clean-cut kind of handsome to even begin to compare to the ex-agent.

But it was enough to make you want to leave.

Giving up your space, you’d made your way back to your girls and made up some little white lie, surprised neither of them called you out on it- what kind of bar doesn’t have white wine?

They left to find someplace with wine, you left to find some peace of mind.

The bar they dragged you into was familiar, the setting of many of your father’s stories. It only took you walking through the door, tugging down the dress-too-short, to hear your name called across the floor.

“Hey kiddo!” Your dad’s a tell-tale kind of drunk, his eyes giving away even the smallest sip of alcohol he has. He was just tipsy, scooting his way out of a tattered booth to wrap you up in his arms. It felt as nice as it did guilt-inducing, knowing you’d been avoiding his calls all week since The Incident. A punishment to yourself more than one aimed at him. “You here yourself? Could join us for the night, if you like. Ain’t that right, boys?”

It was only then that you’d realised two men were sat within the booth, collars undone and ties loosened after a week’s work.

There were usually three of them.

"We’re just waiting on Peña." Oh god, it made you feel sick. Heart in your throat, stomach at your feet. His name no longer feels real, not when spoken by anyone but you.

“And raising bets on his tardiness,” one of your father’s friends said. You recognised him from a few of the barbecues and Christmas parties your dad's thrown. He's nice, responsible. Married, to a woman his own age. “I’m saying he’s chasing some tail. God knows he could use some stress relief. Boy’s been wound up all week, nearly bit my head off for asking him about some files."

It’s a wonder none of the three men- one a retired lawyer, the other two members of the force- noticed the blood drain from your face.

“My guess is he’s pulled some muscle in his back and can’t get himself out of bed,” a nudge from your father’s elbow, delivered straight to your ribs. “Whatcha think, kiddo?”

You didn’t have an answer.

You didn’t get to give an answer.

“You need to quit speaking ‘bout me like you’re not a whole decade my senior, viejo (old man),” it came from behind you and threatened you to look. Like the foolish final-girl in a slasher, you ignored your basic instincts and glanced over your shoulder.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you know what you were hoping for.

Tired eyes, chewed lips, unkept facial hair. A twitch of sadness drawn between his brows and the stains of cigarette ash on a worn-out suit.

Javier Peña was none of that.

The suit, grey. One that fit him all too well and had you wishing you could stain it with your drink.

The signature moustache, perfectly groomed, sitting perched above the bow of his pouty lips, rosy-red and fresh for picking.

His eyes have always given him away but, staring down at you in that moment, they read only as passive, unaffected.

It was like, nothing.

And, yes, that’s what you’d asked for- from now on, whenever you see me, can you at least pretend that none of this happened?

But he's smart enough to know you didn't mean it, right?

“Hey officers, sorry to interrupt but,” a hand curled around your arm. It tugged and you let yourself be inched away from heavy brown eyes and your father’s smile. “She’s ours for the night. We’re going clubbing!”

That was never part of the plan.

Neither was skipping dinner, though.

You caught the back of him as you were dragged away, some pleading from your father to take it easy and call me in the morning, and noticed it only then.

His hair, freshly cut.

“‘S getting too long,” a mumbled sort of thing, hidden in your neck, spoken against your pulse. A kiss placed upon it, and then another for extra measure. Fingers dragging through his hair, ridding him of the knots your very same hands had worked into them an hour of passionate touching ago. “Lo sé (I know).”

A pause of silence. The blissful moan birthed from nails on his scalp. And, then, “no. It’s nice, I like it.”

That puppy-dog stare, so particular to the cool-down moments between you, meets your own, chin propped upon your sternum. He’s sweet like this, honeyed skin and pleasant smiles.

“Yeah?” He asks, like he even needs to. “You like it, corazón (sweetheart)?” You opt for a hummed confirmation, finger tracing over the arch of his nose. “Guess I better keep it this way, then.”

Now he’s gone and chopped the overgrown curls off.

In a way, it feels like he’s cut you off with them.

We don’t speak cause it’s too tricky But if I’m tricky, why’d you kiss me?

The next time you see him, a wedding is taking place.

He sits on the groom’s side, you sit on the bride’s.

It feels unreasonable to be surprised by his presence. Why wouldn’t he be here, sitting four rows from the back, at his cousin’s brother-in-law’s wedding?

The bride is gorgeous, the groom is in tears. The priest drones on a little too long.

Somewhere between the exchanging of vows, and the ceremonial kissing, and the cheering of guests, your instincts get the better of you and you glance back at him.

He’s already staring right back, eyes ignited with something that weakens your knees and shakes your confidence. The newlyweds walk down the aisle, cut through your line of sight. He’s still staring at you when they’ve passed.

The reception takes place in the events room of some glammed-up hotel, the kind you can barely afford the one night you’re booked in for.

An open bar, a local band. The catering is tasteful, handpicked by the couple, and the table you feast at is so far away from his that you don’t get that chance to see if he chose the chicken or the beef.

You find a friend behind the bar, in the shape of a bottle and toothpick-impaled olives.

You dance till your feet hurt, slip away to your table, take off your heels. You’re back on the dance floor in time to catch the bouquet, too busy basking in the envy of the other women to notice his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

If it weren’t for the dent in your bank account made by the room you booked, you’d gladly dance away the whole night. But if a bed with a view costs double your rent, you’ll be damned if you don’t get to sleep in it.

So you stumble to the elevator.

Clutch your heels and flowers to your chest, struggle to remember your floor number. The fifth floor seems to ring a bell, but it might’ve been the eighth floor. Your room key! Maybe, you hope, that’ll have your floor number on it. You struggle with your purse’s zipper, trying your best to pry it open.

You succeed, but at what cost? Heels and bouquet tumble to the floor, thumping and clunking as they knock against it, flower petals falling loose.

You try to bend down, stretch your fingers out to grasp the clasps, seize the stems. A wave of exhaustion mixed with too much alcohol washes over you and you stand up straight again. Take a calming breath, do a little song and dance before reaching down again.

“Déjame. (Let me.)”

Scuffed shoes come into view as you’re halfway down, bent at the waist and holding your balance with one arm against a wall. You stand up straight, too fast, lose your balance and stumble forward.

He catches you.

For a moment, it feels like you’ve never left his arms.

“C’mon, let’s get you to your room.” You hate the way he ends his sentence, no term of endearment and no impure intentions.

He asks for your floor, you give him your key. He punches the number into the elevator and it shakes to life.

Neither one of you makes an attempt to part. There’s a chance he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself melt, regardless, muscles relaxing and sinking into his arms.

He’s still warm. He’s still steady. but his cologne’s different and it makes your eyes sting.

You’d warned him he was about to run out of his signature bottle, made a note to buy him another one for his birthday or Christmas, whichever came first.

“You look like you had fun,” he rasps out, eventually, as the elevator slips past the fifth floor.

“I did,” you tell a partial truth. You would have had more fun, if he’d stood at your side, ate at your table, danced in your arms. But you can’t say that, because he doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad.”

It turns out your floor is the ninth. He’s careful to guide you out the mobile-box, hand on your hip, pressing you to his side. Your heels dangling from one of his fingers and the bouquet gripped in his palm, smacking against his thigh every other step. A little down the hall and there you find it, your precious and expensive home for the night.

It’s easier to let him open the door, he tells you.

It’s easier to let him guide you to bed, you tell yourself.

Dropping the heels on the floor, he disappears out of your line of sight and you stare motionless at the ceiling above, buzzing in your brain and pain in your heart.

You’ve never shared a space like this with him, one that’s hollow and decayed. The shell of a creature that’s long abandoned it, grown too big for its home.

Your eyes sting all over again, this time enough to brim with unfallen tears.

A thud against the nightstand.

You roll onto your side and find he’s still here, a glass of water and some painkillers lay to rest at your bedside. The first tear gives way, running down your cheek and dropping to the crisp white sheets below. Even more fall as he raises a damp cloth to your face, wiping away smudged mascara and bringing your lips back to their natural colour.

The undressing is gentle and so unlike his usual impatience.

Fingertips drag down each inch of skin released as he unzips the back of your dress, tugging it down and folding it by your heels. The weight off your chest helps you breathe as he unhooks your bra. Left only in your underwear, the sheets ruffle as he drags them up your tired limbs and tucks them under your chin.

“Get in bed, please,” you plead like you have any right to ask that of him. “Javi.”

It’s the first time you’ve said his name since that night in May. His shoulders tense and release, his fingers smooth down his moustache. He looks like he’s going to fulfil your request, slip in behind you and wrap you up in his soft but steady embrace.

He looks like he wants to.

His back cracks as he bends down and presses a kiss.

Against your forehead, lips that linger.

Then, he stands up straight and walks out the door.

On the forehead, way up north Pressed the scar and found the source

Vermont, ‘98.

That’s where it all began.

Your dad, turning fifty.

Javi just hit forty.

It was someone in the station who had the wild idea they celebrate it together. The sheriff and the station’s rookie- really, a hardened, inching-out-of-a-fresh-retirement former DEA agent your father manipulated back into the force, some promise of a light workload and a hefty pension. With no need for money, you wonder why he ever accepted the offer.

Plans were set, money was put in a pot, and a wheel of fortune was spun. It landed on the northern state, a downpayment to rent a ski lodge placed within a matter of twenty-four hours.

Somewhere along the way, you’d been roped into joining this boys-only trip. Your dad argued you needed a break from studying. Your mother argued there needed to be a responsible adult to supervise your dad. and, well, a free holiday never hurt nobody, right?

Wrong.

The final evening, with a constant pounding of a hangover never-quite-nursed, a litter of bruises down your back from falling and a firmly closed chapter on any possible career as a ski prodigy you may have had, you trailed your way down to the only bar in the tiny ski town.

Textbooks on the table, glasses on your face.

A half-drank glass of cabernet, an empty plate.

Peaceful and quaint, until it wasn’t.

The cheer of a frat-boy out in the wild warrants the same response as hearing a lion’s roar in the dark of the Saharan night.

The kind you hear them before you see them, spilling through the door in their obnoxious jerseys and their face-painted cheeks. one wore the badge of honour, a giant Soon To Be shackled Married printed poorly onto the back of his jersey.

You put your head down, breathed more subtly.

The pride stormed their way over to the bar, pounding their fists onto the surface and gnashing their teeth, spit spilling down their mouth as they brutally tore into the bartender, demanding pints of beer and rounds of shots.

The key was to avoid eye contact, keep low and out of sight.

They dispersed through the area, sniffing out free booths and the occasional local to irritate out of their seats.

One of them found the jukebox and wasted his coin on blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. The group of older women playing bingo scowled and made their way out of the joint, calling it for the night.

You got up to follow suit, hands slowly packing up your belongings and slinging your bag over your back.

Inching towards the exit, footsteps light as a feather.

“Woo! Look at you,” just as you were close to slipping out the door, a single member of the pack spotted you, prowling his way over. He already had his chest puffed out by the time you turned around. “Ain’t seen an ass like that since we left the city!”

Hardly charming. Tame, compared to other things frat boys have said to you.

“Why don’cha come join me and my buddies over there?” He nodded back at them, like they weren’t the obnoxious centres of everyone’s attention.

You were not scared of him, exactly. But you’ve seen where things can go. Heard about it, countless times, from your own father.

So you spoke with caution, gripping your bag a little tighter, “thanks, but I’ve got an early flight. Have a nice night-” He told you his name, like you cared. “Yeah, thanks, bye.”

And then you were stepping out into the quiet of the night.

Fresh air, cold enough to sting your lungs. You breathed it in like it was going out of fashion.

You barely got a moment to compose yourself before that grating voice was back in your ears.

“Oh don’t be a buzzkill!” He whined, you cringed. Took a step back, watched him move an inch. “It’s early, stay. Have a drink.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“To have fun?! C’mon, it’s too cold to be out here by yourself.”

“I have an early flight.”

“It’s just one drink, sweetheart. I ain’t asking you to sign your life away.”

A couple bumped past you both, weaved their way between you. His eyes trailed after them, your feet twisted around, carrying you away from him slowly, carefully. Best not to make yourself look like prey, not to this predator.

“Hey!” He called after you. Your steps sped up. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

It didn’t even matter that you were walking in the opposite direction of the ski lodge. You told yourself you would find your way back, once this lion was off your back.

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you!”

The lion pounced, sank his claws into your back and ripped through you.

Your hand flew out to break your fall, the contents of your bag spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Pain, the kind that stings. It nipped at your knees, and your hands, and your eyes. Pushed it down, pulled yourself up.

He froze, maybe surprised at his own actions, maybe waiting on the chance to pounce once more, this time with his fangs instead of his claws.

You wouldn’t give him the chance. Filled your bag, collected your senses and ran.

It was tricky on frozen ground, trying so hard to not look back.

He followed and you knew it, heard it. Roaring and growling, chasing you down streets you’d never walked.

You slipped, momentarily, slammed into a wall. A crossroads, go right or go left.

You don’t remember which direction you turned.

“Quit running, you bitch!”

He was still following, how was he still following?

Caving in, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the blurry figure of him running after you.

He was getting faster. Maybe you were getting slower.

You came to a screeching halt, body smacking into something solid. Eyes shut, mind alive. You feared the worst, hoped for the best, expected to open your eyes and find yourself trapped in a dead-end, nowhere to run from this predator.

Instead, you heard your name. Called softly, at first. Gentle, coaxing you to pay attention. The second time it was more urgent, worried and aggressive. You sank deeper into the wall, felt your feet shuffle on the gravel below.

“...Gotta let me know, nena,” the wall pulled you back from it, a firm grasp on your forearms. Your eyes opened and met his. “Fucking Christ, look at the state of you.”

You’d not known much about Javier Peña at the start of the trip.

Your dad had mentioned something about a family ranch. Your mom let it slip that he’d enjoyed the pumpkin pie she’d brought to the station’s Thanksgiving feast.

There’d been one time you’d caught the end of a conversation between him and your dad. Nothing concrete, just some shameful mutterings about Colombia and Los Pepes. You’d left once you heard your dad start to comfort the man, deciding your intruding on the moment had already gone too far.

You now knew he liked his whiskey, no ice. His coffee, no milk. His bread, no butter.

He didn’t like the mess of mixing things, and you had to wonder if it had always been this way. Or had he learned his lesson, the hard way? Mixed the wrong things, burnt his own blessings?

“You’re bleeding,” he announced it, fresh news for you.

A pleasant warmth thrummed through your veins as he took hold of your hand, inspecting it under his scrutiny.

His thumb swiped over your palm.

Your mouth winced, your arm pulled back.

He held you in place.

Something visceral shifted in him, enough to coax you to glance at him.

He was looking past you, eyes a deadly killer stalking their prey. You followed their line of sight and found the lion at the end of the street. Standing still, arms at his side, eyes a little wider than you remembered them. You’d not really been looking, in the first place.

The former agent twisted you behind him, an effortless shield. Took an urgent step toward the frat boy, and then another three.

You grasped at his sleeve and tugged him back, didn’t let him stray too far.

“I’m fine,” you lied. He didn’t believe you, furrowing his brow. “I’m just cold.”

He seemed to hesitate, softened by a tremble in your voice.

He glanced back to see the lion was retreating, staggering his way back to the pride of frat boys. A perfect opportunity for him to attack, from behind and unexpectedly.

“Leave it, he’s not-” The sting in your eye got the best of you and a tear tracked itself down your cheek. You wiped it away with your scraped hand, leaving behind a smear of gravel and blood. “It’s not worth it.”

You said it not for the agent’s sake, but the boy’s.

The agent puffed out a breath of frustration, then followed your plea. Turned back to you, licked his thumb and swiped off the dirt on your cheek. Pulled you in, against him once more, and pressed a deliberate kiss against your forehead.

It was instinctual, no thought placed behind his action.

He did it because that seemed to be in his nature: to nurture.

“C’mon, the lodge is this way,” he pointed in some direction.

You didn’t bother paying attention, more than willing to follow wherever he led.

“Put this on.” It was not posed as an option, not when the agent tugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

Somewhere along the path, you realised you’d lost your key to your cabin. Your dad carried the other.

Officer Peña offered to take you to him, drinking down in the ski lodge’s bar with the rest of the men.

You shook your head, told him your dad couldn’t see you in that state.

He took you back to his own cabin instead.

Cleaned up your hands, put on the fire, poured you a drink.

Then fucked you into his bed, till you clawed and sobbed around him.

If you don’t love me, Why’d you act it?

Late june brings nothing but gloom.

You get bored quick, no college to fill your days. Pick up extra shifts, hope to combat the empty feeling in your chest with the rush hour traffic that torpedoes it’s way through the cafe.

Friends invite you out, you rarely go. They tease you’re becoming a recluse, and that just makes you want to shut yourself in even more.

Tonight, you’re appeasing them.

Some line dance event, downtown in a bar that’s only gimmick seems to be a worn-down mechanical bull. It’s missing a horn and no one seems to know why.

Truth be told, you don’t want to go.

You want to stuff your face with take-out while you melt into your couch, watching reruns of the first season of Friends and drooling over Joey till you forget about another smooth-talking, raven haired man.

Here you are instead, fighting against the cheesy cowgirl hat till it sits on your head correctly.

In the mirror, it’s still lopsided.

The clock sits at eight forty-seven.

They’re 2 minutes late.

You give up, decide to pretend you want the hat this way. Slip on your jacket, do a sweep around your apartment: windows locked, flat iron off, fridge closed. Grabbing your purse, you unzip it and wrestle around in it’s contents, searching for your keys.

You pull on something and- it’s a pack a gum.

Dive back in, search again.

An empty tube of lipbalm.

Third time’s a charm, you think, and try once more. Something scratches your fingers, coaxes you to tug it out and inspect it.

A broken earring.

A familiar car honk’s outside, you stay frozen in place, staring at the broken hoop and counting one, two, three.

Bile burns the back of your throat.

He opens on the fifth knock.

Any other night, he practically rips the door off it’s hinges and tugs you in, before you can so much as raise your fist for a second knock.

Maybe he was busy, on the toilet or on the phone. You don’t think too much into it.

He steps aside, lets you in. Stands so far away, it’s hard to read his eyes.

The air’s uncomfortably quiet.

You think’s it’s all in your head, self-doubt at an all time high after a bad day.

“My earring snapped today,” there’s a growing pit in your stomach, just from staring at him. He looks so distant, not present. Mind a galaxy away. "Your favourite ones, too. You know, the little hoops with-”

“The hearts dangling from them.” He finishes, on your behalf, and it’s the first green flag you see. Green enough to lull yourself into a faux calm.

The silence returns.

You rock backwards on your heels, glance around the apartment. Try to find what has changed, because this no longer feels like the place you’ve grown so familiar with. And neither does the man observing you from a distance, hands glued to his sides.

He should be touching you by now, in any way he could: his foot bumping against yours under his dining table, his hand trailing patterns over your shoulders as you settle into his side on the couch, his tongue delving between your folds as you lay splayed out on his sheets.

You notice his bedroom door is shut.

It’s never been shut before.

“Is- Am I-” You don’t have to find the words, but the courage to speak them. “Do you have someone over?”

He blinks, slowly.

It’s hard to tell if it’s from guilt.

“Because if you do, that’s fine!” It’s not. “I understand,” You don’t.

He doesn’t answer.

You keep talking.

“Totally chill, I’ll comeback some other night. Or, you can just come by mine! Yeah, actually, that sounds better. Won’t risk interrupting again-”

“This needs to stop.”

You don’t have to question it.

You do, anyway.

“What?”

“Us. This-” He’s pointing between you both, a little haphazardly. It’s like he’s rushing to get the words out, get it over with. Get you out his apartment. “Thing we’re doing. It’s done.”

“I don’t underst-”

He cuts you off with your name. “Why’d you come here tonight?”

He’s stern.

Not in the way that makes you want to bend to his will and indulge in all his sins. But in a way that makes you feel dirty, wrong. A child scorned for touching fire and getting themselves burnt.

“I,” you’re beginning to wish there was someone else in his bed, so she could stroll out of his room in one of his stupidly soft shirts and interrupt this conversation. “Uh, I had a bad day.”

“Okay,” he nods. Smooths a hands over his chin, pops out his hip. “What’s that got anything to do with me?”

Everything, you want to tell him.

For every single thing that went wrong throughout your day, seeing Javi gave you something to look forward to.

“I just thought-”

“You thought, what?” His face twists up, just like your insides. He’s angry and you’re the one to blame. “This isn’t a- I’m not your boyfriend.”

I know, you mouth.

Because you do know. Repeat it to yourself all the time.

When he calls to make sure you got home safe.

When you sneak off to pee in the middle of the night and are welcomed back to bed with a forceful tug into his chest, a sleepy, gruffed out ‘where’d you go?’ whispered into your neck.

When he picks up on the things you say, remembers silly things like your favourite toilet paper brand and the exact milk to cereal ratio you enjoy.

Javier Peña is not your boyfriend.

So why does he act like it?

“Look, kid, you’re young, and I know-”

Kid.

That makes you angry.

He wasn’t calling you kid when he bent you over your parents’ bathroom counter.

“Don’t call me kid.”

“And I know,” he pushes through your protest, keeps up the distance. “This can be a lot at your age. Don’t blame you for getting caught up. But whatever you think you’re feeling for me, it’s not-”

“Is this about the p-” The word won’t come out of you, so your change the verbiage. “The hospital? Because I told you, Javi. We’ve been safe. Safer than a pair of purity-ring wearing teenagers-”

“No, this is about me needing to do the right-”

At this point, you’re just interrupting one another.

Fighting to get in the next word, frowning at what you do hear.

He tilts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, a groan leaving his cracked lips. You’d imagined him doing that tonight, but not like this.

Eventually, the back-and-forth stops.

Silence.

You take the lead.

“So, what? That’s it just... over?”

“I told you, corazón mía (my heart),” he can’t meet your eyes. “Made it clear from the start I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“I know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “But if it wasn’t serious, why’d you treat me like it was?”

It takes him a few minutes to answer. There’s a twitch, in his hand, reaching up only to drop back down at his side.

Usually, he wipes your tears before they get chance to fall.

The rug at your feet turns darker with each wet spot that drops.

“I got caught up,” his eyes seem so sad, so lost. Staring across the ocean of his living room, searching for a lighthouse to pull him safe to shore. But he won’t let you be that. “In the way you deserve to be treated, instead of some sleazy secret.”

He breathes out your name, the most painful melody you’ve ever heard.

“This has to end,” you’re unsure if it’s only you he’s attempting to convince. “Before someone gets hurt.”

Too late, you want to say.

You’re already being torn apart by his hands, and he’s standing ten feet away.

“Corazón, I’m so sor-”

The car honks, again.

You breathe in, and find it’s hard, snot piling up in your nose and tears splashing down your cheers.

Another honk.

You never make it to the line dance.

You curl in on yourself, instead, and fall asleep to the sound of Joey and Chandler’s bickering.

Love’s a verb And not a bandage

In retrospect, it’s hard to tell where the lines begin to blur.

A promise of casual, turned into something fragile.

Whenever you think about it, for too long, your mind carries you back to the same night. A few months after Vermont, you don’t recall the exact date.

All you remember is a pounding at your front door.

1 am. Too late to be causing ruckus.

You nearly trip over discarded shoes, curse earlier-you for assuming you would remember their existence. Undo the bolt, grab the key and then-

Pause.

This could be anyone, anything.

You check the peephole, find exactly who you were hoping for.

He’s on you like a moth to a flame, pressing you flush against him the instant he can fit through the crack in your doorway. Mouth on mouth, hands on waist. The door thuds as he closes it behind you both, you’re too distracted to notice.

You let him invade your senses.

Smell his aged leather and nicotine thrill. Feel his strong arms and bulging crotch. Hear his laboured breaths and muttered pleasantries. Taste his whiskey tongue and metallic lips-

You pull back. He follows.

It’s flattering, his inability to get enough of you, but you halt him nonetheless.

Cup his cheeks, pull down his face, and stare.

“My dad finally figure out who those panties in your glove-box belong to, Peña?” It’s meant to be a joke.

There’s nothing funny about his bleeding lip and split eyebrow.

He graces no response, dives back into you and submerses himself in your touch. Kisses you slow, with deliverance, his final mission to arrest all your sense of self till you turn yourself in to his embrace.

Only as you pass by those discarded shoes do you realise he’s inching you both deeper into the dark of your apartment.

This time, you do trip over them.

It’s okay though, Javi’s there to catch you.

He finds refuge in your neck, burrowing in deep, mouthing at the skin like a dog does a wound. Your arm shoots out to find a light-switch. A warm glow fills the apartment, bathing you both in an orange hue.

The gold of his skin shines brighter.

The red on his skin appears darker.

“What happened to you?” You don’t need to worry about him. And, yet, doing so comes naturally.

“S’not important,” it’s spoken against your skin, as if he intends to seep his gravelled tone into your pores and have it grow a new life for itself within you. A gentle scraping of his teeth sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ll tell you later.”

Later with Javi never seems to come.

‘If you’re not busy, I’ll make you dinner later.’

‘Keep it up and I’ll be fucking that attitude out of you later.’

‘I’ll get these back to you later.’

He’d never made you that dinner.

He’d dragged you into the station’s bathrooms and fucked the attitude out of you only seconds after.

You’d never gotten those panties back.

You decide to grant him no time for later. Shove him down into a seat at your dining table-for-two. Roll your eyes as he asks if you’re “gonna put on a show for me, corazón?”

The makeshift first-aid kit put together by your mother resides at the back of a cupboard, hidden by mugs and cups. It takes several minutes and a smashed glass to manoeuvre it out. You step over the pieces of glass and head straight back to the table, dumping out the contents.

You click your tongue, point your finger. He scoots the chair back from the table and you slip between the space. Press back against the surface, stand between his parted knees and do your best to not look down at the jeans that grant him no modesty.

Distractions are not welcomed, your patient needs tending to.

He’s insisting he’s okay, yet he’s hissing when you dab at the tears in his flesh with betadine. His hands find a place upon your hips and give a tight squeeze as you press butterfly stitches to his no-longer bleeding brow.

“I,” he starts up, an indefinite time of silence passing between you both. He shakes his head.“It’s stupid.”

“Javi,” you stroke your finger over his jaw, tilt his head back to meet your eyes. “The less you tell me, the more I’ll worry.”

It does the trick, unlocks his tongue.

“I was just wanting one drink, was gonna head home... Or to you, after. I had a shitty day at work and... You probably don’t care about that,” he has no idea you’ll hang onto those words for the weeks to come, wondering how to lighten his workload, ease his tension. “Heard some loud-mouth kid beside me at the bar, he was talking to this girl. She gets up to leave, he follows. I was just gonna go back to nursing my drink but-”

He hisses.

You’re pressing too hard on his fragile lip.

There’s no malice in his eyes as you pull your hand back, only soft and tender. He must sense your remorse for hurting him, chasing after your fingers and grazing a gentle kiss upon them.

A splotch of red stains your skin.

“Corazón,” he croons, shifts himself closer to you. His hands grip the backs of your exposed thighs, his chin presses into your lower stomach. A few movie-strand hairs cover the molten brown eyes that stare up at you. “You’re exhausted. Vamos, basta de preocuparte (C'mon, stop worrying), I’m fine. I just wanna crawl into your tiny bed so I can wake up to your bedhead and more back pains.”

It’s a tempting offer, and one you’ve given into far too many times acceptable for the casual agreement you both share.

A deep breath. Your hand lands on his cheek, his eyes flutter shut.

There’s bags under them. Heavy, dark. Bearing the exhaustion he hides behind charming winks and dashing smiles. Your thumb grazes over one and you ache to give him the rest he deserves, the rest his body craves.

“But, what?” You persist, pleading for him to continue his story.

Javi sighs, gives in.

He always gives in, to you, eventually.

“I just- I don’t know, it’s crazy, but I kept thinking of you,” his eyes reopen, sorrow buried deep in his soul and a worry-line etched into his brow. “In that bar. Alone, in Vermont, when you...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

He doesn’t need to.

“So what did you do?” It’s best to keep him talking, drag his mind away from whatever dark thoughts those memories bring up.

“I followed them outside,” he admits with a tinge of shame. “Tried to be subtle about it. Lit a cigarette, took a few drags, scoped out the street. Neither of them were around,” you’ve long abandoned the first aid kit, transfixed by the tight grip he holds you in, his hands smoothing up and down the backs of your thighs in an attempt to soothe himself. “I thought I’d maybe read into it wrong. Maybe she was into him, and they’d got a cab back to her place. Or his.”

He’s rambling.

Stumbling through words he deems unimportant, rushing to push out the thoughts that clog up his brain pipes.

You listen closely, swallow up every morsel he offers.

“It was just as I turned to go back inside that I heard something,” his hands no longer dance over your skin. They sit stagnant, halfway up your thigh, fingers flexed and nails digging into flesh. He’s burying himself into any part of you he can, rooting himself in your solid figure. “Rustling, or something. Coming from the alley. And I just... I felt my stomach drop. Followed after it. Found them, him-”

He chokes.

On his words, on his breath, on his failure.

You run a hand through his curls, soothe the lines off his face.

Bend down, drag him up, press your lips to the arc of his nose.

“Didn’t think, I just dragged him off. Punched him, a few times. Felt his nose crack under my fist.” He’s still pushing through, his earlier unwillingness to talk now a streaming fountain you can’t switch off. “I must’ve tripped on some glass, lost my balance. Gave him the space to get a few hits in, and-”

“Did you arrest him?” You cut him off.

He nods.

“Did you help her?”

Another nod.

“Did you get her someplace safe?”

This time, a reply.

“An officer checked her in at the hospital, stayed till her friend arrived.”

“Then Javi,” you make a point of saying his name, remind him of who he is when he’s not on duty. Not parading around with a badge and a gun, and answering to Officer Peña. The shift in his stare tells you it helps. “You did enough.”

A weight slips off his shoulders and he slumps further into you, eyes squeezing shut.

“I didn’t,” frustration steals the show, coursing through his voice.

“What more could you have done?”

“I don’t know... I could’ve-” He groans, like something pains him, and purses his lips. “I should’ve helped her sooner. Followed them, the minute they left. Shouldn’t have let...” A whiff of whiskey reaches your nostrils. Javi pulls you in tighter, breathes in the mixture of sleep-sweat and lingering cologne on the shirt you wear- Pink, the top buttons undone, left behind by him. “Shouldn’t have let you go out alone.”

You whine out his name.

The air is miserable, dragging through your lungs and staining them.

The chair creeks at the loss of his weight, knees straightening him up to his full height. Instinctually, you lean back into the table, head tilting to meet his broken eyes.

He’s searching for comfort, in the only way he knows how.

Slap a bandage over a bullet-hole, place a kiss upon his gaping-heart.

“Not everything about that night was so bad,” you play into his game, splay a hand upon his shirt. Trace a finger over a stained blood spot. “If I hadn’t gone out, then maybe we wouldn’t be...”

The words catch in your throat.

Partially because you don’t know what you are anymore. Boundaries crossed, lines blurring. Hands that hold and eyes that linger. Too close to be nothing, too reckless to be something.

But mostly because he kisses you.

Desperate, hungry. Groaning into your willing mouth.

He’s a man on a mission, to consume your soul right out your willing body. Unravelling you where you stand, he takes pleasure in peeling his shirt off you.

Hot mouth to hot skin, the tip of his tongue meeting the peak of your breasts. Your hands pull at his hair and he grips at your waist.

The descent into madness is quick, bodies melting together in a dance that’s unique, improvised, and yet always in sync.

He tugs at your panties and you undo his belt. He hooks your thigh over his hip and you anchor yourself to his chest. He teases you with a pinch to your clit and you torture him as you cup his heavy balls.

When Javi fucks you, he fucks with purpose.

The table thuds and scrapes along the floor with each punctuated thrust he gives, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your welcoming cunt, the coarse hairs at its base gifting you the occasional thrill of friction on your aching clit.

He’s slurring out curses and pet-names, lavishing you with delightful proclaims of what a pretty girl you are when you 'shut up and take my cock'.

When he does manage a full sentence of logical wording, his forehead’s pressed to your shoulder, his cum coats your thighs and the sweat between your frantic bodies holds you both together.

“There’s not a universe where this doesn’t happen, corazón,” you feel him softening against your thigh, yet you still delight as he drags a finger coated in his own spend up your folds. “Want you too damn much to miss out on you.”

Curling up into your bed that feels too big these days, you grip at the pink shirt and wonder when that changed.

When did Javier Peña stop wanting you?

And I’m spiritual cleansing (but the truth) Is I’m good at pretending (oh and you)

By July, things change.

The stud in your nose is traded out for a silver ring.

The lonely nights in your apartment turn into stumbling back home from some nameless club in the early hours.

Boredom leads to hobbies.

At first, you try pottery.

Four plates broken and a crumbled mug later, you put on your dance shoes.

Slip. Almost break your arm. Wrestle with the doom placed on your budding dance career. Throw out the dancing shoes, bring home running shoes.

You hate it, running.

You sweat, you ache, you exhaust.

But when you’re gasping for a breath and your feet pound into concrete ground, you don’t think about it.

The heartache.

The headache.

The agent.

You drop a few pounds, tone up your muscles. Watch your body’s shape outgrow your wardrobe, investing in a new one while clinging onto the items you love too much to lose.

Like the dress that now rests just below your ass, instead of it’s usual place mid-thigh. Or the sweater that once hung loose, that now hugs new curves and creases. The jeans that were tight now sliding off your hips.

The pink shirt still lives on one of your hangers.

But you’re not thinking about it, or it’s previous owner.

Not right now.

Now, you’re balling your fists and counting your breaths. Music blasting through your headphones, sweat dancing on your forehead.

The sun is warm on your back, even as it makes way for night to begin. This is the best time to run, dusk, you’ve discovered.

No kids loitering on park grounds, no threat brought on by the dark, no slow-walking pedestrians crossing your path.

You run your self-made circuit with freedom, switching off all your senses and emptying your mind.

Today, however, it’s more challenging.

The thought of him creeps through, no matter the effort you put in to fight it. Your father’s the one to blame.

You have to come, kiddo.

The phone-call still echos through your thoughts.

Because it wouldn’t be the same without you there.

You’d wanted a better explanation than that.

Then, you tried some lame excuse of already having plans.

You had no plans.

Bring your friends then! The more the merrier!

You nearly groaned out loud at his enthusiasm, but held back. Your father’s light didn’t deserve to be dampened by your shadow.

C’mon, kiddo! I’ve not hosted the annual barbecue since you were still wearing your braces!

You bit your tongue. Fought against telling him that, back then, there were no pretty-eyed, heart-breaking agents for you to worry about.

The whole station’s gonna be there, you have to come!

He said it, like that would persuade you.

Keep asking about ya, the whole lot of them.

The more he spoke, the less you wanted to go.

Just last night Javi was asking how you’re doing!

You’d hung up.

Immediately.

Called back, 3 minutes later. Mumbled an apology and an excuse- I lost signal!- and ultimately agreed to going to the damn barbecue.

Now, you run from the phone call, from the impending doom it brings.

All this heartache and pain, it’s not good for the soul.

Of course, being dumped is a lot easier when the person isn’t your dad’s closest confidant.

It gets hard to breath. Each pound against concrete shakes the cassette player glued to your hip. There’s a sting of tears in your eyes.

Until you come to a screeching halt.

Double over.

Place your hands on your knees.

Dry heave.

You pay no mind to the figure sitting a few feet away on a bench.

Nor to the dog that’s chasing it’s ball back forth between it’s owner’s throws.

You let the sadness flood your soul, deflate you like some discarded party-balloon.

You’ll have to see him.

Spend time near him.

Watch him laugh, and smile, and share beers with your father.

It’s unfair, and you hate him for putting you through this.

For not quitting the force.

For being your dad’s friend.

For not wanting you the same you wanted him.

Want him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand. Try to stand up straight, get lost in the knots you’d tied into your laces. Sloppy and uneven.

You’re usually more careful.

You catch, in your peripheral, the figure on the bench move. Take it as your sign to compose yourself, get over yourself.

You pick your pace back up.

Manage only a handful-or-two steps.

Your feet fly out in front of you.

Land ass-first on the gravel below.

Beneath the sounds of Olivia Newton-John demanding you get physical, you hear a muffled sorry! yelled out. Spot as the dog rushes to grab it’s ball, halfway down the path thanks to your kick.

You groan and prepare to get back on your feet.

You’re met with a hand in your face, palm open and waiting for you to accept the open offer. You take it, no hesitation.

Big mistake.

The hand tugs you.

You glance up.

And meet the eyes of Javier Peña.

“Easy, tiger,” he coughs up a laugh, like you don’t wind him as you slam into him, full-body force, nerves on fire and all systems shutting down. “You trying to break my ribs?”

It’s no less than you deserves, you think.

And instantly regret it, heart turning blue at the thought of him hurt at your hand.

You take a few steps back, create a safe distance where you can’t smell the remnants of his last cigarette or count the eyelashes that line his eyes.

He asks you how you’ve been, and tries his best to smile.

It comes off as awkward. A crooked line across his lips.

You try to remember the last time he smiled at you and meant it.

You come up empty handed.

Maybe it was back in April. A hospital hallway, one hand clasping yours, the other peeling through the leafs of some medical pamphlet.

Or, was it after, on the drive home, back to his apartment, hand still holding yours while the other spun the wheel?

There’s a vague memory that toils in the depth of your mind.

Sharing an elevator, your heels in his hand, his lips on your forehead.

Wedding attire, a post-party glow.

It’s toyed with you since you woke up in that hotel room, driven half-mad by an image you can’t quite form of him tucking you into bed.

Had he smiled, then?

Had he even been there?

Or was he merely a product of martinis and negronnis-

His fingers grasp your chin, no warning, and tilt your face.

His eyes don’t greet your own. Instead, they’re focused on the centre of your face, inspecting you like a piece of evidence.

“Hmm,” he’s so close, you smell the mint of freshly bitten gum on his breath. Dart your eyes down, catch the glint of his badge poking out his pocket.

He’s still on duty, a tailored uniform contrasting the hair roused by stress. Maybe at his desk, in the office next to your father’s, hands running through his tresses to express frustrations, tensions.

Were they his own hands, or someone with longer, brightly painted nails? Your stomach turns at the thought, your loins warm at the memory of writhing in his desk chair, legs thrown over his shoulders whilst his own dug into the ground below, eager to please mouth and a happy to taste tongue working you to a orgasm muffled by your own hand.

He’d slapped your ass, kissed your cheek and sent you out his office door, wiping your own wetness off your cheek just in time to greet your father.

“You suit the ring,” his voice and a gentle breeze bring you back to the present. To the park. To the heavy feeling that hangs between you both. “I prefer it to that stud.”

“I- What?” Confussion.

You furrow your brow, wipe your sweaty palms over your thighs.

He just smiles, still crookedly, and brings his hand up to your nose.

Adjusts your piercing, swipes his thumb over your cheek.

It’s hard to breath, but you do it anyway.

Thank him, in a struggle to find your voice, with a whisper.

His eyes bore into your own, chase them as you look off to the side, watch the dog still chasing it’s ball and failing to catch it.

You wonder if it’s a cruel metaphor sent by the universe, a symbol of you and Javi.

And then you wonder if you’re the dog or the ball.

Or both.

“You never answered me,” his voice, honey, sweet on your ears. It melts away your other senses, turns you blind to anything other than him. “I want to hear how you’ve be-”

“Peña, if you don’t report your skinny ass to my office in 5 minutes and share a celebratory drink with me, I’m putting you on cleaning duties at our next poker night.”

A static-filled voice blares out his walkie-talkie.

Your father’s voice.

It’s enough to set things right, force your body to retreat from his.

He’s not your Javi anymore, desperate to hear about your day and kiss any aches away.

He’s Peña, your dad’s best friend, meant for nothing more than to be a passing figure in your life.

His eyes are heavy with emotion as he fishes out the device.

Maybe it’s sadness you see.

There’s definitely remorse.

Guilt, too.

“We... Your dad caught the guy that’s been breaking into college girls’ apartments.” He tells you, shares information that should help you sleep better at night. You’ve not done that since the last time he lay next to you. You watch him press down on the call button, hold the speaker up to his mouth. “Do that and I’ll shit in your shower, pendejo (asshole).”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d commit an indecency within your parent’s bathroom.

But none of that matter, anymore.

You’re already walking away.

Wringing your hands and hoping the tension in your limbs falls out.

He calls out your name, loudly.

Attracts the nosy eyes of people around.

People who know fine well who your father is, who Javier is.

You turn in time to see him half-jog, half-pace his way over to you.

He reaches out for your hand.

And quickly gives up on the thought of holding it.

“I’ll, um,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, grinds his teeth in an attempt to say something. “I’ll see you at the barbecue, right?”

He knows the answer.

You still give him it, “yes.”

Smile, uncomfortably brightly, before you turn and walk away once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

And pray he takes no notice of the sob that shakes your shoulders.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think I’m alright

You’re laughing but it’s mostly fake.

A courtesy, a polite gesture. A signal that you’re still listening, despite tuning out her voice five minutes ago.

She’s a nice lady, someone who works alongside your father. Specialised in forensics, she balances the darkness of her job with the brightness of her wardrobe.

Today, she’s paired a lemon-yellow skirt with a vibrantly orange camisole. She looks like a walking cheese cube.

You’ve known her since you were a kid, even if you can’t remember. She claims you used to stand on her desk, make a big spectacle out of nearly matching your dad’s height.

You’d got to talking to her after she helped you wipe ketchup off your chin.

That was half an hour ago, and the discomfort of wanting to be anywhere but here is finally settling in.

It’s not her fault. You know.

She’s not the one who roped you into going to this barbecue.

Your dad is.

And right now he’s stood on the other side of his backyard, half-drunken beer bottle in one hand and Javier Peña’s shoulder clapped under the other.

Even from here, you can hear him bragging.

So then Peña’s on his ass.

Chases this guy, whilst he’s driving down the street!

Catches him at an intersection, physically rips him out the car.

All while the man in question shrugs, sheepish. Dismisses your father’s praising.

He’s exaggerating.

The guy was barely going 5 miles an hour!

He stepped out the vehicle at his own will.

Sweat lines his forehead, shirt-sleeves hug his biceps, joy wrinkles his eyes.

He’s happy, at ease. Enjoying himself, in a way he was always meant to.

Something about him fits so perfectly in this picture: laughing with your father, complimenting your mother, playing fetch with your dog.

If you step inside the frame, it cracks.

Shatters.

And maybe he knows that.

Knew it all along.

Broke things off before you could try find a frame large enough to fit you all in.

And, though it hurts, you see why things had to end between you and feel relieved it happened before it was too late.

The feeling lasts all but four seconds.

“Kiddo!”

Your father’s voice is obnoxiously loud. Several of the party-goers turn their heads, follow his line of sight. Spot you, frozen in place, glass full of watered down lemonade and a belly full of dread.

It takes a moment, but you wave.

“Come over ‘ere!”

Not the response you were hoping for.

Still, you do as he asks. Smile at your mother, shuffle your feet, make your way across the yard. Do everything in your power to not look at Javi.

Even if the weight of his stare threatens to crumble you.

“You having a good time?” Your dad’s got this smile, big and dopy and oh so caring, that you can’t bring yourself to ruin with the truth.

“I’m having a great time,” you barely manage out before he’s squeezing you into his side.

The condensation on his bottle of beer seeps through the shoulder of your top, his arm secured safely around you.

He must be tipsy already, a buzz in his veins making him more affectionate than normal.

“I can’t believe it,” he laments, speaking to no one in particular.

In your peripheral, you fail to ignore tight jeans and a loose-fitting shirt.

It’s hardly buttoned, the top three undone and leaving a golden plain on display.

Perhaps you’re going crazy but he seems thinner, skin drawn a little tighter against his ribcage.

It’s not a sight you want to see.

It fills you with dread.

Pulling you out of your own head, you father continues to drone on.

“My little girl’s spreading her wings soon, going on her first adult holiday to-”

“London.”

Javi’s voice, interrupting your father, finishing his sentence.

All eyes snap to him.

Your own, wide and panicked. Scared. Trying so hard to dismiss how intensely he’s staring back you.

Your mother’s, amused and curious. Flicking back and forth between his face and her husband’s.

Your father, confused and perplexed, “I- Yeah...” He speaks slow and the arm on your shoulder slips down. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been, you know?” Two hands dance in front of you, somewhere in the dark, intwining and unwinding. It’s a nervous habit, of Javi’s. You welcome the contact of soothing touches. “To London.”

That peaks your interest.

Enough to shift positions. Rip your hand out his own, roll onto your side and rest a hand under your propped up head. Your other, inevitably, finds its way upon his warm chest, rests over his no-longer-racing heartbeat.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been a few times, actually. I’ve got some friends out there.”

With Javi, friends could mean anything.

A fellow agent, a government official, a moonlight lover.

For all you know, this friend could be the Queen of England.

So it’s best you don’t inquire on it.

“Where do you recommend I visit then, Mr. Bond?”

“Mr... Bond?”

The room is dark, but you still notice the furrow in his brow.

You can practically hear it, in his voice.

“You know, like James Bond.” That’s the thing about jokes, explaining them makes you realise how dumb they are. “‘Cause you were an agent and you like London, and he’s an agent in Lon-”

He cuts you off in the way you like best: his mouth against yours.

The kiss is brief, and leads no place further than the simple act of wanting to silence you.

And, though it goes unaddressed, because it’s been too long since he’d last done it.

Even if he’d done so less than an hour ago, naked bodies intertwined on ruffled bedsheets.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard, corazón,” somehow, the words don’t bruise your ego.

Instead, they make you giggle and burrow your heated face into the crook of his neck.

His lips press against your hairline before speaking again.

“I’d need to write you a list of places to go, too many for me to pick one.”

“Maybe I need a tour guide,” a hand of his greets your back, strokes soothing motions back and forth. It’s lulling you to sleep, at last. “Y’know, show me all the places a real Londoner goes.”

“I could,” he pauses. Clears his throat. Pulls you a little tighter against him, till your limbs are tangled and it’s hard to tell where he stops and you start. “I could check my calendar. See how many holiday days I’ve got left. Could come with you, to London, if you want me there.”

It’s too late though.

You’re already snoring against his skin.

“How does he know?” Your mother shatters the silence, tone incredulous. “I mean, seriously, are you blind!?”

For a minute, it feels like she knows.

She knows why Javi knows.

You should be panicking.

Both of you should.

Should look away from one another, should wipe the guilt off your faces, should already be working on some excuse for when your mother exposes what once was between you.

But you aren’t. Neither of you are.

You’re just staring at each other, as if you’re working to commit each other’s face to memory.

“He knows because you won’t shut up about it!”

Your dad gives an unceremonious oh.

Your mom rolls her eyes.

Javi takes a sip of beer and looks off to the side, eyes breaking contact from your own at last.

“Ok but,” your father’s back to talking before you can fully work up the courage to leave. At least that’s the excuse you try give yourself, anything to distract from Javi. “I bet I’ve not told you what she’s decided to do on her travels!”

“You have,” your mother’s tone is pointed.

Javi laughs, sputters up a little beer back into the bottle. Tilts his head back, accepts his own backwash.

There’s a worn-out cigarette box squeezed tight inside the front pocket of his jeans.

You try ignore the fact he’d promised you he was working on quitting.

“Shh,” your father waves a hand in your mother’s face, dismisses her teasing with a playful wink.

Pulls her close, kisses her shoulder.

Gives both you and Javi a display of what a relationship is.

Open, celebrated, acknowledged.

Not secretive, dirty, scandalous.

Javi cuts the tension with a chuckle and a gentle shove to your father’s arm.

As his hand retreats back to his side, his knuckles brush your skin.

“She’s gonna get herself a christmas-tree decoration every holiday,” your father reveals. You’re frozen at the fact he even remembers you mentioning it. “What was it you said again, kiddo? So in the future, when you’re decorating the tree with your kids, you’ll think of the places you’ve been and tell them all about it?”

Your heart drops.

Javi’s seems to do the same.

For a moment, you worry he’s stopped breathing.

Till his chest rises and falls, no thanks to your father’s stupid rambling about you, and the future, and kids.

“Uh, yeah,” the ground can’t swallow you sooner. You’re already planning your exit, from this conversation and, hopefully, this party as a whole. Your dad’ll understand. You just need to tell him something came up. Or came out. Tell him you’ve got food poison. Blame it on some dodgy take-out the night before. “Something like that.”

But I’m actually bloody Motherfucking batshit crazy

There are moments in one’s life where they must question their own sanity.

You’ve lived plenty of such moments.

But none quite like right now, half-crouched in the middle of a grocery store aisle, peeping into the next one through a gap between two cereal boxes on the shelf.

And all because you heard his voice.

“This is what you’re craving?” Through the crack, you see him wave about something in his hand. It’s hard to see what exactly he’s holding, though.

He’s facing a woman.

She’s pretty.

With dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that not even the shelves and produce between you both can block the shine of.

And a well-rounded belly.

“No, Javi, this,” she doesn’t say his name the same way you do- did. There’s a jovial tone, but there’s no awe, no seduction. Maybe that’s just what your bias hears. “Is what the baby is craving.”

You’ve never seen her before.

Not on the mantel of photos that line Javier’s television. Not at any of the station thrown parties. Not in his wallet, tucked behind the picture of his mom.

She’s a total stranger, to you.

But that doesn’t mean she’s a stranger to him.

A very pregnant, non-stranger.

“We gotta get this kid some better taste.”

His hand rests on her bump.

She welcomes it, placing her own against it to hold him in place.

The image of the American dream, a beautiful woman and a handsome man. The promise of a child, soon, half her and half him.

The blood drains from your face. There’s a lump in your throat and a sting in your eyes.

You won’t let it fester.

Take deep breaths, pretend there’s no shake in your exhales.

It’s not enough to stop the vicious thoughts that sink their jagged ends into the soft tissues of your brain.

Was she the reason things between you and him ended?

Had he got her pregnant, decided to stand by her, and found love along the way?

Was he with her, all along, while he was with...

Surely, he couldn’t have.

But, then, why couldn’t he have?

You were never exclusive.

You were never anything.

“Did-” Somewhere, between the aisles, Javi speaks in amazement. The smile is practically dripping off his words. “Did it just kick?”

Your heart’s palpitating.

Your hands are sweating so badly, they threaten to drop the box of Cap'n Crunch in their grasp.

Jealousy turns to misplaced anger, irrational in every form but impossible to conform.

Because, how could he do this to you?

Make a mockery of you, turn you into the other woman?

Love you so deeply and leave you so easily?

Settle down with this woman and her baby, yet run from you at the first scare of a-

“He’s a real kicker, ain’t he?”

At first, you think it’s spoken to you.

But, no, it’s too distant. Too far.

A third person enters your view through the window in the shelf.

He’s handsome, in the typical sense.

Blonde haired, a nice smile.

There’s a little girl in his arms, resting on his hip, half asleep and clinging to a worn-out giraffe doll.

“He?” It’s Javi who echoes.

“Don’t get him started,” the woman seems to beg, rolling her eyes.

The man nods, pride on his face, “I’m telling ya, Peña, it’s gonna be a boy. It needs to be a boy, ‘else I’m gonna be overrun by little girls.”

The woman must give him a pointed look, or a gentle nudge, for not two seconds later he’s following his words up with a tickle to the sleepy girl’s side and “little girls who I love very much.” Pause. He leans closer to Javier, hand covering one side of his mouth as if to block the woman and the child from hearing him. “I still want a son, though.”

“Olivia,” the pregnant woman strokes a hand over the little girl's head, coxing her to keep her eyes open. It’s hard to tell if there’s a drool mark on the man’s shoulder. “Why don’t you show uncle Javi your favourite toy?”

The bile in your throat burns more than ever before.

The misplaced anger bleeds into sadness, shame, embarrassment.

Here you are, going stir-crazy over a man who never wanted much of you in the first place, raising your heart-rate at the thought of him moving on from something that never even existed.

And there he is, fine as can be- in every sense of the word-, sharing laughs and exchanging smiles with old friends in the grocery store.

Friends his own age.

Worlds apart, yet nothing but a shelf between you.

Through the gap, you watch him lean down to the little girl’s eye-level. A twinkle in his eye, he happily tugs at the stuffed giraffe’s tail.

“Glad you liked it, Olive,” curse him, and his soft voice, and his gentle touch and his everything, for still forcing you to swoon over him, knees weak and ovaries treacherously screaming. “I had to go all the way to Africa to find him.”

The little girl perks right up at that.

Eyes widened, head off her father’s shoulder.

“Really?!” She’s amazed, and how could she not be? Javier Peña is beaming at her, ear to ear.

“Mhmm,” he nods, feeds into his own lie, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other man. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll go back next year and get you a zebra.”

“Quit lying to my kid, Peña.”

Javi, undeterred from keeping the little girl’s smile, rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out at her father, huffing under his breath “Your dad’s a right grump, Olive.”

You begin to wonder how long Javi’s known this couple, how he knows this couple.

“Just wait till you’ve got your own kid and I’m feeding it lies.” The man punctuates his empty threat with a dull punch to Javi’s forearm. Javi barely flinches, unfazed. “Speaking of, when are you making me uncle Steve?”

In sync and apart, you and him both physically freeze.

Your breathing stops.

Javier stands up straight. Rolls his shoulders, scratches at the back of his neck, clears his throat and, “not any time soon.”

“Really? What about that girl you’ve been seeing, the-”

“That- We- It didn’t work out, we wanted,” you begin to see cracks in his facade. Fake laugh, solemn eyes. “Different things... I want, wanted to settle down but, yeah, no it was for her best that we-”

“Sorry, can I just,” your heart jumps in your chest, flying back so quickly from your peep-hole that you nearly knock over the person behind you. “Grab one of those?”

You nod, gain composure, watch the stranger pick up a box of cereal off the shelf.

They walk away and you’re left alone, again.

Your eyes flicker up to the shelf and-

He’s no longer standing on the other side.

You turn on your heel, ignoring your half-filled cart and book it out of the store before you fall apart.

Try as you might, you can’t shake off the weight of his stare as you pass by the check-out.

I kept it in, but it wrecked my organs So pour the gin and call Graham Norton

You wake up early.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re seizing the day.

Making the most out of your time upon foreign land.

The early bird gets the worm, and all that proverbial bullshit.

The truth lies in that you can not sleep.

Jetlag. Your body clock is at odds with the timezone.

Which lands you here: strolling upon the cobbled streets of Notting Hill.

A quarter past six.

Its barely light out, the sun still fighting to rise over the horizon and the streetlights still shadow your every step.

Colourful houses, cosy shops, a melodic thud each time your feet meet the ground.

It’s picturesque, straight out of a romantic comedy.

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt more gloom.

In the silent bustle of a city awakening to a new day, you’re startled.

Trip over a cobble, nearly meet the floor, and just about save yourself from rolling your ankle.

Your ringtone is the culprit.

Loud, imposing. It scares a flock of birds off a wire and gains you a stare from a man stepping out his home.

Scrambling to get the clunky cellphone out your bag, you spare the screen a fleeting glance.

You question if it’s one of your friends, awakened back in your shared hotel room to find you’re not there, and press the green button.

“Corazón.”

It’s funny how one word can drain the blood from your face.

You swallow the lump in your throat, made of equal parts anger and sadness.

Anger that this is the first time you’ve heard Javier Peña’s voice in nearly two months.

Sadness that it sounds so broken down the line.

“I- Shit, I can’t tell if I’ve even dialled the right number...” He’s muttering in your ear, confused and at odds with himself, mouth a fountain his thoughts pour out of. “... Probably changed it or- Can she even receive calls all the way in-”

“I’m here,” it’s only a whisper.

It’s enough to shut him up.

Silence rings down the line, a static buzz that reminds you of the distance between you.

“You’re in London,” he states.

“I am,” you affirm.

He hums, sips something.

Ice clinks against glass, and you feel a little sick.

“How have-” His voice sounds strange. Muffled. Different. Maybe it’s the poor connection. “Was your flight okay?”

“Yeah,” you spare him the details.

The truth.

The boredom, the turbulence. The fact you’re dreading the flight home.

“I’m glad,” he sighs the words out, worry going with them. “Know you’re not the biggest fan of planes, kept thinking of you alone and afraid on it.”

“I wasn’t alone,” it’s defensive, and ironic.

You sure felt alone.

“That’s right, corazón, you weren’t,” something slips, rolls, smashes. Glass shatters and is met with cursing anger, an oh, shit! followed up by hollow laughter. “You’re never alone.”

“Are you...” The street’s a little brighter, a few cars have begun to back out of driveways and you’re still there, frozen in the middle of the street, phone pressed to your ear. “Drunk?”

“No, I’m javi.” If his laughter is anything to go by, he thinks himself the comic of the century. “Had a few drinks with your dad, sweetheart, that’s all.”

For a moment, it feels like you shouldn’t be here, in London.

You should be home, in Laredo, dragging a drunken Javi to bed.

Stripping him of his clothes, kissing his rosied cheeks, urging him to go to sleep. Leaving him a pair of painkillers and a glass of water for his breakfast before curling yourself into his soft arms.

You blink, and feel the familiar weight of a tear on your lashes.

“Why’d you call me, Javi?” It’s a desperate plea.

For answers, for clarity, for closure

“I wanted to hear your voice,” that’s too vague of an answer, too unfair of an answer. Your heart swells nonetheless. “Wanted to go to London, with you. I should be there.”

“It’s your fault,” that’s as cruel as you can bring yourself to be towards him.

Even then, it kills you to do so.

“’S half my fault. Joder (fuck),” you can picture him, leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. You wonder how much he’s drank, and if he spoke to any women. Maybe he took one home, fucked her nice and good before dialling your number. “Wanted to give you my answer, too.”

Someone bumps your shoulder on the street, walking past you.

You pay them no mind, vision blurred to the world around you.

“What answer?”

“Where you should visit, Mrs. Bond,” he says it, like it doesn’t send you into cardiac arrest.

You miss the nights like that one, tangled in your bed, smelling him on your sheets and feeling him against your skin.

He’d woken up first the next day, coaxed you out of bed with the promise of homemade pancakes and his head between your legs.

“There’s this little bar in Inslington, called the Distillery Club. The owner, he makes his own gin. You like gin, don’t you, corazón?” You nod, and it’s almost like he feels it. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside. Or the inside, either. But it’s some of the best gin I’ve ever had, in the greatest company.”

You try to picture him, sat amongst friends you’ve never met. Friends who don’t know your dad.

You try to picture yourself, next to him, scooting your bar stool closer to his.

The image doesn’t quite form.

“Want you to go there, get yourself a drink. Tell him Javier Peña sent you, and that you’ve not to pay.”

It’s like he’s given you a piece of his soul. A piece of his history, someplace he’s sought out refuge in his lowest moments.

Refuge he’s willing to share with you.

That tear finally gives way, dropping off your lash and rolling down your cheek.

You wipe it off with the sleeve of your sweater, before anyone can see.

“Promise me you’ll go, corazón.”

Your reply is instant, “I promise.”

“Ok, I’ll let you go,” it’s solemn, regretful, devoid of truth. You almost beg him not to, but that didn’t work last time. “Enjoy yourself, okay? Come home, safe.”

“Javi, I-” the line cuts off, disconnecting before you even finish. “Miss you.”

I’m gonna throw you down the river Your mum can watch it over dinner

“How you feeling, kiddo?”

You startle awake at your father’s voice, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Before you can give him an answer, you erupt into a fit of coughs.

“Not good,” he grimaces and slowly steps into your room. “Got it.”

Stepping off the plane, you’d managed only one night back in your own bed before the fever had taken over.

All it took was hearing your nasally voice over the phone for your mother to demand you come stay with them.

Just till you’re back on your feet, she’d said, like she ever needed an excuse to have you over.

She’s not quite adjusted to being an empty-nester.

Neither of them have, really.

“Actually,” your tone is matter-of-factly. “I almost smelt something earlier.”

“That���s great, kid!” And he means it, you know he does. Even if his shoulders slump at any sign of you feeling better and returning to your apartment. “Now we just gotta figure out if it’s your sinuses unclogging or your stench just growing more rancid.”

Try as you might to aim the pillow right at his head, he still manages to catch it inches from his face.

“Hey, I’m just saying! You’ve got the flu, you ain’t dying! Could be a little courteous to those who’ve gotta be around you and take a shower.”

“You’re literally in my room!”

“Which is literally in my house!”

Downstairs, your mother yells something unintelligible.

Likely, she’s telling you both to shut up and to quit behaving like children.

Making eye contact, you both can’t help the roll of laughter that comes out.

He steps a little closer, and that’s when you spot it.

Tupperware, clasped in his hand.

The contents are hard to decipher.

Luckily, your father spots you eyeing it.

“Your mom said ya wouldn’t be up for eating much but, if you’re hungry,” he pauses, at the foot of your bed. Tugs a little on the homemade-blanket you’ve had since you were in grade school. You wonder if he remembers making it with you. “One of the guys down at the station made you some stew.”

Your stomach growls, hungry and unfed.

The prospect of a hot, boiling bowl of brothy stew suddenly peaks your interest.

In fact, you can’t think of anything better.

“It’s a family recipe, he said it would cure ya right up.”

He’s popping the lid open, presenting the delicacy before your eyes. 

Immediately, you spot chicken.

Some corn cob, a couple lumps of potato, flakes of chilli.

You wish you could smell it, ingest it through your nasal canal and get a taste of it before you even put it in your mouth.

Your father continues, practically talking to himself.

“What’d he say it was called again, ga-sue-lay day ah-vay?”

“Cazuela de ave.”

A change into warmer, drier clothes.

Your hair still sits wet upon your head, but it no longer drips puddles onto his floor.

Thirty minutes it took him to drive from where he’d spotted you, walking soaked upon the sidewalk.

It would’ve only taken him seventeen minutes if he’d dropped you at your apartment.

And that fact is partly what warms your insides.

You watch him, tie discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone, strutting around his kitchen.

Objectively, you think, he’s gorgeous.

Yet the word somehow doesn’t seem like it’s enough to summarise him, when he’s making his way round to you, two ceramic bowls in his hands and a look of pride in his eyes.

He put his own bowl down first. Sloppy, uncaring, spilling a little of it’s contents over it’s edge.

And then yours. More careful, slowly, both hands guiding it down.

The scent alone is enough to have you salivating. 

Warmth and care, all encased in a bowl of brothy goodness.

“It smells delicious,” you inhale deeply, for dramatic effect.

And to get more of that meaty, comfort-food goodness.

Javi sits on the opposite side of the dining table, and you try hard to stop your mind from wandering off to visions of you both sat like this, out in public, in a restaurant.

A real date.

Only, this isn’t even a fake date.

You guys don’t do that.

“It’s- It was my mom’s recipe.”

Frozen in place, you wonder if the shock spills over your face.

He’s never mentioned his mother.

Or much about his family, really.

There’s the occasional comment about projects he takes on at his dad’s ranch, and tid-bits of information you hear across a dinner table that's set by your mother and seated by your father.

But you’re no fool blind enough to not realise the obvious.

A worn-out polaroid in his wallet, his mother smiles brightly in permanent ink each time he opens it. It contrasts her impermanence in the real world, dead and gone long before you became so much as a ripple in the lake of Javier’s existence.

Across the table, he’s relaxed. At ease.

Open.

His eyes, his mind, his heart.

And so you try venturing inwards, test his waters with a dip of your toe.

“Was she a good cook?”

Lukewarm, they appear, when he favours you with a tiny smile, his eyes staring somewhere off in the distance.

“No,” and he laughs at his own admission.

Not just a scoffed out chuckle, or a gesture meant to feign joy.

A full, hearty laugh, that shakes his shoulders and splits his cheeks.

It’s disturbingly beautiful.

You wonder if there’s a life where it could be like this, always.

Javier laughing at his own jokes, you smiling at his visceral joy, plates of homemade food filling the space between you.

“No, she, uh,” he restarts, relaxing a little bit. He wipes under one of his eyes with the back of his palm, a rogue tear breaching his waterline. “She was awful. She burnt every slice of toast she made, and even served an unbaked cake at one of my birthday parties. This dish is actually one of the few she knew how to nail.”

You can picture it, a young Javi, party hat on his head and a cheesy grin topped by rosy cheeks, eating away at gooey batter mix sprinkled in icing. 

It’s hard to imagine him complaining, or getting angry at her.

In spite of his reputation, and the career he’s undertaken, Javier Peña is a gentle soul, who nurtures and protects anyone he can.

A modern-day hero, a knight who’s exchanged his shinny armour for form fitting jeans and unbuttened shirts.

“Tell me more about her,” the words are out before you can reel them back in.

Because you like this feeling, and you like this Javi, reminiscing on his late-mother.

“She not only was awful at cooking, but she had the worst coordination too.” It’s like he’s been waiting to tell you this, with how easy he slips into doing so. “She was forever falling and tripping over herself. And her driving, god! Pops used to dig out his rosary each time she’d be out on the field, driving the tractor.”

There’s something intimate about him recalling details so many would see as flaws, whilst he sports the most earnest, heart-wrenching smile.

Like nothing about her was wrong, all of her perfect and angelic.

“She was brave, too. I’d like to think I’m just like her in that respect. She didn’t let anything stop her from doing things she set her heart on, and she never let her inabilities hinder her,” he’s getting a little emotional now, you can hear it in his voice, see it in the lump he swallows back. You stretch a hand across the table and watch as he leans on you for support, fingers interlocking with your own. “There was this one time when I was a kid, I was swimming in a river and got stuck in a current. She dived right in to save me... She didn’t even know how to swim!”

You don’t know what to say.

You opt for saying nothing, silence speaking more than a thousand words.

Give his hand a reassuring squeeze, feel him squeeze back harder.

Your stomach rumbles, but it doesn’t ruin the moment in the way you feared it would.

“Listen to me being a sap and starving my poor lady to death,” still, he tugs your hand closer and plants a kiss on your knuckles. You’re still trying to process the possessive adjective he’d used to address you. My. His. “Eat up.”

Both of you settle back in your seats.

You pick up your spoon, scoop up a piece of chicken out the steaming bowl and-

“Asi no, corazón (not like that, sweetheart),” he spews out, panicking to pry the cutlery out your hand. He ignores the questioning looks you give him. “You drink the soup first, eat the filling after. Like this.”

Leaning over the table, he scoops your bowl up in his careful hands and guides it up to your lips.

When your lips part and rest against the bowl’s edge, he tilts it and you feel it’s warmth invade your mouth.

And then your chest, branching out over your heart, your lungs, your stomach.

Horned-up bias you so often show towards Javier aside, it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

Like a hug on a gloomy, wet day, all wrapped up inside a ceramic bowl.

You hum, hands taking over his own to allow him back into his own seat, focusing his attention on drinking his own soup.

“Javi, this is...” You trail off, eyeing the small ring of liquid pooling at the bottom of the bowl. One more mouthful and you’ll get your taste of the stew’s fillings. “Amazing. Your mum would be proud.”

Instead of modesty, instead of 'thank yous', instead of bashfulness, Javier smiles, takes another sip from his bowl.

“She would have liked you.”

You stare across at him and find no jest in his eyes.

They’re as open as before.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. She always liked pretty girls smart enough to put me in my place.”

“Kiddo?”

You’re ripped out your own head by your father’s voice and his hand, waved repeatedly in front of your face.

“Hmm?” 

“You okay there? I was talkin’ to you but you seemed lost in thought.” There’s a little excitement in you father’s voice as he presses his cold hand to your sweated forehead, the prospect of you still being ill, still needing taking care of, filling him with the relief of keeping you in your parents' home a little longer.

“I’m- Yeah, just tired, s’all.”

“Ok, let me know when you’ve finished your food,” he presses a kiss atop the crown of your head, and you hold back the pointless comment of not risking getting himself or your mother sick. “Need to get the tupperware clean ‘fore I give it back to Javi.”

Your stomach twists and longs for the meal before you, while your heart shatters into pieces you doubt will ever be repaired.

[astupidweeb69]

Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 8

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Next Chapter: Part 9

Author’s Note: I know this chapter is a lot shorter than my previous one's but, I figured it was better than nothing. I might end up rewriting this to make it longer or something.

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Some threats of violence. (1,276 words)

___________________________________________________________

“I love you, (Y/N).”

He said it so genuinely, like there was nothing wrong with the situation. Like he hadn’t taken you from your home, stalked you, tormented you, fucking bashed your head in with a baton. He said the words as if he was just a regular school boy confessing to his crush.

It made you sick to your stomach.

“Well? Are you guh-going to say something?”

He sounded impatient, as if you were the one in the wrong somehow. You looked up from the ground, his dark eyes and expression turning colder each second that passed.

“You’re insane.”

Wrong answer.

Toby’s face dropped, and with a heavy tension in the air, he raised his arm, his hand closing into a fist.

You prepared for the worst.

Then, Toby took a sharp breath, holding it for a moment, and exhaled. Slowly lowering his hand again. Trying to muster up the strength to not lash out, most likely.

“I’ll give you some time to warm up to me. I wuh-won’t hurt you.” He paused, thinking. “I’ll tuh-try not to.”

He didn’t sound very convincing.

You decided to hold your tongue for the time being. At least until you came up with a game plan to get out of this fucking place.

Toby sat down on the couch next to you, still pissed off. The sudden shift in weight causing you to look over at him. It was hard not to notice just how big he was. Tall and lanky, but at this distance it was obvious he did some kind of exercise. He’d be hard to take down on your own, and you’d need some kind of weapon that could immediately incapacitate him. He couldn’t feel pain. You knew that now.

“See suh-somethin’ you luh-like?”

Your thoughts were interrupted, noticing the wide grin stretched across Toby’s face as he looked you over. You had been staring.

Albeit, you were trying to figure out how to kick his ass, but you had been staring nonetheless.

Frowning, you decided it was best to stay silent, choosing to just shake your head ‘no’.

Toby sighed. The noise making you jump a little. “There’s nothing you can do now.” He put his arm around you, your body tensing as you were pulled into him. “And that’s okay.”

The ends of fingers started playing with your hair.

“It isn’t.”

Your voice came out quieter than you’d had hoped. But soon rose from desperation, sadness, anger or a combination of the three.

“It isn’t okay. I have a life, I have fucking friends who care about me, you can’t just tell me it’s okay. God! How could a person be so selfish?!”

“Because I can.” Toby hissed. “Fuh-for once I can be selfish. I finally found suh-something that I want. So I’m going to get it. Even if I have to drag you back here kicking and screaming over and over again.”

His words sunk in, like a rock falling into a bottomless pit.

“You’ll have to.”

Toby laughed cruelly at your response, not phased at all by your determination. He leaned forward in his seat, playing and picking with the skin on his hands. His nose scrunched in a smile, and he turned his head to you, putting a hand on your knee. “That’s fine. I duh-don’t mind a cat and muh-mouse chase every once in a while.”

____________________________________________________________

You felt numb. Your brain buzzing, probably the after effects from the head injury Toby gave you. All the energy you had was focused on the fireplace on the other side of the room. You could hear your captor behind you in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards. After a couple of failed attempts to get you to speak, he resorted to pacing the cabin, occasionally glaring at you. Muttering phrases and curses under his breath. He finally stopped when your stomach started growling, quickly making his way to the fridge to find you something to eat. Of course, you didn’t ask him to. You decided you weren’t going to ask him for anything.

But there was one thing that had started to bug you, well, other than the whole kidnapping thing.

Scanning the room more intently, you noticed two hatchets that hung by the front door. One with a bright orange handle, and the other dull and wooden. They looked well used, and if it wasn’t your paranoia just seeing things, there were definitely specks of red on the handles and on the holster they hanged from.

It made you wonder what Toby did in his free time.

Sure, you had asked him before if he was going to kill you. And he had alluded to murdering people in his fits of rage. And although you never saw any evidence of it, bloody fucking axes on the wall seemed like pretty solid proof.

You moved closer to get a better look at them.

“Hey. Yuh-your food.”

A bowl of cold soup was shoved in front of your face.

Toby stood next to you frowning, trying to figure out what you were looking so intensely at.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I was - um….. Nothing?” You stammer back.

He placed the bowl into your hand and walked over to the wall, lifting the leather holster off the hooks. The blades of the hatchets swung as he carried them over, before sitting down on a musty chair across from you.

“You like em’?” Toby asked, a hint of tease in his voice, like he was trying to be playful.

“Not really” You shot back.

“Aw, yuh-you’re hurting my feelings.”

Toby took the orange one out of the holster, tossing it back and forth in his hands with ease. He looked up at you for a moment and smirked, before l lifting the handle behind his head, and throwing it forward. It missed your head by a few inches, but you still ducked instinctively. The blade connected on the other side of the wall with a loud ‘THUNK’, the force knocking some empty bottles off the window sill and shattering on the floor.

“What the fuck!”

He cackled at your reaction, throwing his head back in the chair. After a few moments he collected himself.

“Duh-don’t worry, I have good aim.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. "Why do you have those?”

He glanced over at the hatchet embedded in the wall and then back to you. “Firewood.” Was his curt response.

You didn’t believe him.

A small buzzing sound came from Toby’s pocket, startling you both for a moment. He furrowed his brows, before taking out his phone, and glanced down at the screen. He grimaced, reading through something.

“F-fuck.”

If you were wanting an explanation, you weren’t going to get one. Because he got up from his chair and angrily stormed through his home, saying nothing, and grabbing items to get ready for something. He stopped in front of you with a small plastic bag.

Zip ties.

Of course he would tie you up.

“Get up.”

You rose to your feet hesitantly, not liking his tone at all. Something in those texts must have set him off. His hand quickly grabbed your wrist, practically dragging you back to his bedroom where you had first woken up in this hell hole. He threw you onto the bed, and placed your wrist against a metal pole on his bed frame, securing the zip tie to your hands so you couldn’t move. Toby grinned once he was done.

“There. Suh-so you don’t get any ideas while I’m guh-gone.”

Before he left the house, you heard him call out.

“I’ll be back soon!”

[anxiousheart7]

*spoilers* Astarion’s story - analysis and thoughts

I’ve been thinking quite a lot on Astarion the last couple of weeks, and the journey I’ve been on with him. I’ve seen a lot of content about him.

I’ll start by saying this - I didn’t ascend him. I couldn’t. I did, however, watch the ascension on YouTube but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I’m going to explain why.

Here’s the TL:DR version, with my deeper dive below.

As Astarion gets his revenge in Cazador, his flurry of knives felt oddly satisfying to me. It was a release as grim and cathartic. That cry of pain and ending felt necessary for him. I came out of that palace knowing that it was ok and he’d be ok.

The ascension felt gratuitous. Watching him carve exactly what Cazador put him through should have been cathartic too, but it wasn’t. I just felt a shiver of cold. And that was the moment I knew it was the ‘bad’ ending.

Experiencing Astarion’s Journey - delving deeper

I don’t think I’ve ever quite experienced a character story like his before. Here’s someone who is quite clearly designed to draw you in via the usual routes. He’s attractive, he’s got the funny lines. He’s the rogue - a lot of D&D players’ favourite class. He quickly becomes indispensable.

At the start, his flirting was fun. Act 1 I think is supposed to be a light hearted toe in the water, so to speak. Right up until your first major choice with the goblin vs tiefling conflict. Then it becomes real. But until then you can spend copious amounts of time wandering and chatting to your new friends in camp while some of them (namely Lae’zel, Gale, Karlach and Astarion) go straight to ‘i want you’ territory. And you’ll gravitate to those that are ready to get hot and heavy because…video game sex.

There was such a focus on romancing your camp and you lean into that so heavily in act 1. Approval is all-important. And his approval is harder to get, so you try harder with your choices. You want this guy. Like really want him. He’s like ambrosia. And, if you’re not one of the 100k rejections toted in Larion’s infographic, you get him.

As a recovering people pleaser, I’m not going to lie, that was a hard concept to grasp. To make your choices based on who you were trying to impress is exactly the kind of behaviour I’ve been trying to step away from in real life. But hey, this is a game so I’ll be ok.

And then it starts…

Looking back, there’s this line that stood out ‘it felt like you weren’t all there’. Despite his insistence later, Astarion was very likely going to that place of dissociation that he talks about later on. And that’s sad, because as Tav you want this milestone to be special. You want them to fall in love with you. The reward for all your hard-earned approval hiking.

But Astarion masks. He masks well, but you can tell on Insight that it’s all an act. Even when you look closely, the ham fisted complements he throws at you reflects the 10 charisma he’s carrying around. He works as a lothario not because he’s an adept silver-tongued Casanova. It’s because he’s simply beautiful. People see him and want him. His looks mask what’s going on underneath. But then you look into his eyes and it’s right there, plain as day.

There’s so much more underneath. I have watched the scene over and over with the hammy chat up lines as he’s trying to convince you to sleep with him again (I got propositioned first before the tiefling party) and the more I watch, the more I believe that ‘I love you’ wasn’t an act. They wouldn’t have given you three brush off comment choices if it was. He meant that, and I don’t think he even realised he meant it until he found the words coming out of his mouth - as though he was daring himself to say it.

With Astarion, it’s all in the eyes.

And, as someone who has seen those eyes in the mirror on a pretty regular basis, I knew there and then until he started revealing his backstory - the scars, the master and all the rest, I knew this was going to hit very hard and this man was a deep well. He was so lost that he barely had any idea of who he was any more.

By the time you’re well into Act 2, you’re starting to get the gist of him. You learn about his sadness and sense of loss around his identity before he was turned. You learn about the scars. And you learn about Cazador. I got the sense that all of this exposition was almost like a therapy dump from him. Thoughts and feelings he’s wanted to express for decades but hasn’t had a soul to tell - or he’s been compelled not to by his master. Now he can get them out. He can voice how unfair and unjust it feels. The sarcasm, the cynicism, all a way of expressing how much pain he is in. But one thing he’s never lost is the knowledge that he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t been beaten down so much to believe that he is unworthy of better treatment. And that sense of self is what I believe has kept him going all this time. He knows it wasn’t his fault. He knows Cazador was a cruel, sadistic monster.

And I hugged him. Of course I hugged him. I defended his autonomy from the moonrise drow and I hugged him after. At this point I’d fallen as hard for him as he had for me. I cared for him. I couldn’t make any of those obviously awful choices with him. When the details of the ritual came up I felt a knot in my stomach. And sure enough every time we talked after that point he talked about taking that power and I thought ‘this will be rough’.

It reminded me of a lot of really bad experiences I’d had in the past. Boyfriends and friends who were clearly bad for me and I was bad for them. And yet, I needed to help this guy. This person who had nobody for so long. Who didn’t know what it felt like to have someone actually care about him.

I looked this as someone who has experienced trauma in their life. How would I feel. How have I felt? To be scared of so many things. To wonder why on earth would I do something nice for someone else when I’ve sat in alleys, starving and in pain while people just walk on by. No gods to answer my pleas for help. I’d be cynical and disapproving too. I’d have a warped sense of humour. I’d want to never feel that again. Of course he saw the one thing that could protect him and feel compelled to grasp it with both hands.

Astarion has conjured up feelings in me I thought were long gone.

Astarion’s finale

The images I’ve included in this post have been doing the rounds on tumblr and this hits so hard it hurts. Astarion’s journey ends in such as way that it’s meant to be hard.

If you’re a gamer that commodifies your characters as a series of stats or objectifies them based on their design, then ascend him. It doesn’t matter to you. And I’ve seen plenty of people on message boards and Facebook saying exactly that - “but he gets these powers and is so badass”. They’ve never seen past the facade. He was a jerk at the start of the game, a creepy flirt and a vampire ready to be staked. And that was it.

Every excessive power in this game has a major consequence that you have to live with. This choice I think is one of the biggest before the climax of the game.

The ascension pretty much erases him. It takes who he was and the healing that he’s done and throws it away, as if it never really mattered.

And to him he’s worth exactly what he thought he was to begin with. His self-worth is warped into superiority and his hunger and fear replaced with a hunger for power and dominance. He’s not free in this form. He just becomes a new kind of imprisoned. He’s placed in stasis forevermore. And this won’t last forever because as absolute power corrupts absolutely, it also falls. Just like Ozymandius, he’ll rise and collapse under his own grandiose. And he’ll take you with him if you let him.

That steamy scene before he turns you is basically exactly what the Larion writer is saying - you’ve not empathised or grown here. Have your sex scene and then enjoy your eternal enslavement with New Cazador. It’s a bad ending for you and Astarion. You get to be exactly what he was, no matter what pretty words he tried to convince you with - he’s still that 10 charisma trying to convince himself as much as you. He’s Act 1 Astarion with some nifty new powers. He will control you like a doll and yours will be the same half life his was. He’ll start with promises of being his right hand, but somewhere down the line you’ll do or say something and he’ll do to you what was done to him. It’s the ultimate narcissistic relationship.

If Astarion walks away, he’s him. Truly him. With purpose and a new path to walk. You can build a new life together with nothing holding you back. The trauma behind him, he can now walk a path of healing for himself and learn who he is. It makes me feel hopeful and joyful that he gets a second chance.

And that’s where I’m at. My ideal ending is for them both to go off together searching for a cure for his vampirism. Whether it’s possible, who knows - on writing this I’m still to finish my first run of the game. But at least there’s that glimmer of hope in that ending.

I think Astarion is beautiful. There’s a reason half the internet is madly in love with him right now. But if you let yourself, he becomes more than a nice body and a pretty face. His complexity opens up like a puzzle box and you feel the satisfaction of a truly beautiful arc come to its climax. He’s a beautifully written and crafted character and I’m so glad to have experienced his story.

I could say so much more…but it’s long enough as it is. Thanks for reading x

[sinnersweets]

I see your requests are open, I was wondering if you could writing something fluffy for Catnap? Like before any of the destruction, Reader could've been a worker in Playcare who checks up on the smiling critters during the day. They ended up not being able to go home for the night since their car broke down or something of the sort, Catnap realizes this and let's them into his home to snuggle up for the night.

Feel free to ignore this request if you're not interested in writing it!!

A/N: This is more platonic than romantic but here it is!!!

It had been a long day for you. One of your colleagues called in, and you decided to take a double shift to help at Playcare. Boy, would you never do that again. Normally you would only work the morning shift and leave in the afternoon but since you had taken the double that meant you would also do the night shift as well.  

Since this is your first time working at night you weren’t familiar with the routine that they had here. The shift that you had taken was much more than you were expecting. First you had to help Miss. Delight and her sisters clean up the school, then go into the Playhouse and clean and sanitize everything. After that you would do a room check to make sure all the children were there and in the correct room. 

The last thing you had to do was tuck in the children. Each and every one. The last time you counted, there were three hundred kids here. Oh boy. Thankfully though you had CatNap to help you out with your last task.  

You have been working here for a while and have made friends with all the Smiling Critters, except for CatNap. For some reason he would always ignore you. You would ask how he was doing but never got an answer. DogDay told you that he takes a while to warm up to adults. That didn’t help the fact that your job was to take care of all the Smiling Critters. 

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

Once you had entered Home Sweet Home you spotted CatNap waiting for you at the end of the hallway. Creepy. While clearing your throat you spoke out to CatNap for the first time today. “Hey CatNap, how was your day today?” Silence. He just stared at you. Honestly you weren’t expecting a reply, but you still felt like you should try and make small talk. “Okay look, DogDay told me that you have something against adults and that’s fine I guess, and normally I don’t work the night shift so let’s just quickly do this and then I will leave, and you won’t have to be around me anymore okay?”  

Again he didn’t say anything but he did get up and started walking down the hallway. You took that as a sign to follow him to start the nighttime routine.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After two hours you had finally finished tucking in all the children. You glanced at your watch and saw that the time was now 1 in the morning. “Well, that’s everything. Guess I’ll go ahead and head out now.” CatNap was near you but like the last few times he didn’t say anything. “You know maybe if you talked a little more people wouldn’t be so scared of you.” As you said that you walked out of Home Sweet Home and started making your way to the exit. 

While walking towards the exit you started hearing loud sounds from outside. Once you opened the door you realized what was causing the noise. Hail. It was hailing outside. Pretty hard too. No way were you going to drive in that. With a heavy sigh you closed the door and started heading back to Playtime; you remember that there was an empty room and could sleep in there until morning. 

When you made it back all the lights had been shut off. Great. Luckily your phone had a flashlight, so you’ll just use- oh wait. You didn’t have your phone on you. You started patting all over your body to see if maybe somehow it was somewhere on you but no. “I cannot catch a break, can I?” You said to no one in particular. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Very carefully you made your way back into Home Sweet Home. The hall lights were dimmed so as not to wake up the children. Now you had to remember where that room was.  

All you remember was that it was on the third floor so you headed up that way. The floors kept squeaking as you moved around so you decided to take off your shoes to travel lighter through the halls.  

Finally after thirteen minutes, you found the room. You were exhausted now. You shut the door behind you and set your shoes down while laying down. Once you laid down you soon realized that there wasn’t a pillow or blanket on the bed. Boo.  

As you just closed your eyes you heard noises coming from outside your door. It didn’t sound like a little kid's footsteps, but rather something heavy. CatNap. On cue, the purple feline opened the door to the room you were in and stared at you with blank eyes. You swallowed hard before letting out a nervous chuckle.  

“Haha, hey buddy.... So funny story; it’s hailing outside and it’s not safe to drive in that kind of weather so I thought I could just stay in here for tonight....” CatNap finally spoke. “Fine.” You stayed quiet and blinked a few times. “Hey, you talked to me! And I thought you didn’t like me.” You said it in a teasing way. CatNap rolled his eyes, but you couldn’t tell since the room was dark.  

“Hey, do you know where they keep the extra pillows and blankets? This room doesn’t have those and it’s kind of cold in here.” CatNap just walked over to you and before you could ask what he was doing he climbed onto the bed with you and laid down while wrapping his tail around your torso pulling you close to him. “Sleep like this.”  

You didn’t move at all. You wanted to tell CatNap to move but somehow, he already had fallen asleep. Sleep was now creeping up on you, so you just sighed and fell asleep against CatNap.  

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

“Ms. Y/N!” Damian called out to you. You turned around and saw Damian run up to you. “Hi Damian, what’s wrong?” “Nothing's wrong, but I found your phone for you.” Damian then handed over your phone to you. “Oh wow. Thank you very much.” Damian smiled at you before running away. You turned on your phone and saw that your lock screen was of you and CatNap sleeping. He took a picture of you guys! You blushed that Damian saw that. “Damian!!!!” 

[signed-sapphire]

The Fallen Star ✨Wish Reimagined

Chapter 1 - Welcome to Rosas

We open to a picture book with the title The Fallen Star on the cover, and it flips open to the end as a voice similar to that of the Golden Age princesses starts narrating.

Once upon a time, in a land… actually not that far away, there was a kingdom off the coast of the Iberian Peninsula.

Rosas.

The picture book opens to a jungle, zooming across a beach and a sea all the way up to Rosas.

Rosas was a beautiful kingdom, with beautiful people, a beautiful king and queen, and their beautiful daughter.

The picture book goes to look at the crowd, then to the other page to Magnus and Amaya waving to the crowd, then down to Asha waving to the crowd

Princess Asha. This is her story.

As well as his story.

The page flips and zooms down to Gabo.

And hers.

And their story.

Hal and Bazeema, then Dahlia, Safi, and Dario

And his story.

Simon O'Donahue

And my story.

Don’t worry.

You’ll meet me in a bit.

But for now, let’s start at the beginning.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The picture book flips backwards to the beginning of the book, landing on a page with Steamboat Willie, which fades into real life and flips for motion

The flipbook stops at the last frame where a pencil erases and redraws an ear.

“Baaaaa!” A goat, dressed in indigo pajamas, jumps up on the stool next to the artist.

“Hey, Val,” Asha smiles. She turns back to her paper. “I’m not sure about this character. I mean, he looks like he’d be popular, but… he’s giving homophobic vibes. What do you think?”

“Baaaaaa!”

“You’re right. I’m going to burn it,” Asha decides. She pets Valentino’s fluffy head. “Thank you for your input, good sir,” she coos.

Suddenly, the bell tolls outside.

“Oh, goodness. It’s time! Come, baby!” Asha grins, closing her sketchbook and slipping it in her dress pockets.

Asha walks out the door and through the halls, so we get a good look at the beautiful architecture of Rosas.

We pass by the docks, where a ship pulls in by the harbor.

Just like in the movie, a boat docks on the harbors of Rosas. The boat is decorated with flags and plants and nets and fabric, and a group of lively tourists exit the ship.

“Hello!”

We see a smiling young woman waving to the tourists. “My name is Dahlia Tsurugi! I’m so glad you came to our city. I’ll be your tour guide, along with my friend, Bazeema Sriprasanna!”

Her friend jostles at her name, eyes darting to the crowd and waving shyly.

“Care for a cookie?” Dahlia asks as Bazeema pulls out a tray. “Courtesy of my parents, the royal bakers!”

The crowd looks excited, taking a few cookies. “Sugar cookies, just like how Their Majesties like them,” Dahlia explains. She gives Bazeema a thin smile, but before they can move forward, there’s the sound of trumpets.

Dahlia and Bazeema startle and turn towards the noise.

“Helloooo there!”

Now we’re getting to Asha! Our girl is smiling at the tourists, a golden tiara on her head and a group of servants rolling out a red carpet for her to walk on.

“My name is Princess Asha Arman of Rosas! I’ll be your tour guide today!” Asha smiles. “I’m glad you came to our wonderful and fantastic kingdom! Trust me, you’ll love it here.”

“Oh, Princess,” Dahlia says, grin faltering a bit. “You’re a bit early.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, Doc,” Asha says sweetly. “What kind of main character would I be if I ran in here, needing to catch my breath? Couldn’t be me.”

Dahlia blinks. “I see.”

She recovers quickly, turning back to the tour group. “Well, you’re in luck. Today you get to meet our very own, Princess Asha!”

Asha waves and smiles. There’s a bleat, and Asha lights up. “Oh! And this is my goat, Valentino. Say hi, baby!”

Valentino jumps up and bleats, nuzzling against Asha’s dress. Asha coos and pets his fluffy head.

Bazeema whispers something to Dahlia, who smiles sympathetically. Asha turns back to the crowd. “Well! Shall we start, then?”

🎵 Welcome to Rosas 🌹

Asha

Dahlia

Bazeema

All three together

Welcome to Rosas, come on, come this way

Asha bounces in front of the tourists

We hope that you’ll like it and choose to stay

Arms out

There's no other place just as full of surprise

Where your dreams and your reality can collide

Hands mashed together

The happiest place on earth

Hands clasped, singing

A land of laughter, joy, and mirth

Want to ride a carpet or rub a lamp’s base

Hand outstretched to carpet hanging (Aladdin’s carpet) lowers hand to Aladdin’s lamp underneath)

Well, hey, you've come to the, right, place

Gently leans down to the child of the group

'Cause here in the kingdom of Rosas

Asha cuts in front of Bazeema, the other girl girls join in

You can turn all your wanting to wishing, no what ifs and no wonders

Oh, here in the kingdom of Rosas

It's unlikely that you'll be unhappy with so much to discover

A home for me, for you, and all of us

The kingdom of Rosas

So our wonderful king, many years ago

Dahlia fixes her glasses

Stars destroyed his homeland, fire, rain, and snow

Uses free hand to mime out

He battled the Stars and chased off their glow

Hand towards the sky, fist closed at “chased”

He makes sure they can’t hurt us again, oh no

He founded Rosas

With his wife and their young lass

Though to be honest—

Unsure Bazeema

Hey. Our princess grows on you, I promise

Dahlia gently interrupts, then turns to the tourists

Hey, did I mention, when you turn eighteen

Asha pops up behind them, taking their attention

You may have your wish granted by the king and queen

‘Till then, they keep them safe, protects them at all costs

So to the Stars again no one ever is lost

You give your wish to them and live a life of bliss

Yes, you do forget what it is, but now Stars won’t be able to take it from you

Boops nose of youngest

Besides, if you keep it you endanger everyone you love, so forget with no regret and live life safely

Arms like “why”, “gotcha” movement, running backwards

Here in the kingdom of Rosas

Flamenco staircase dance

You can turn all your wanting to wishing, no what ifs and no wonders

Oh, here in the kingdom of Rosas

It's unlikely that you'll be unhappy with so much to discover

A home for me, for you, and all of us

The kingdom of Rosas 🎵

The tourists are all excited, Dahlia happily explaining more about their kingdom.

“We tried to make it in time, but— ACHOO!” Safi sneezes before he can finish his sentence.

“It was my fault,” Simon says apologetically. “I overslept.”

“And I told you, it’s fine, big guy,” Safi says, patting Simon’s arm. “Your dad worked you hard last night. Dahlia can handle it. And Bazeema— ACHOO!” Safi’s eyes widen. “Is there an animal nearby?”

“Oh, sorry,” Dahlia rushes. “Guys, we have a visitor on the tour with us. Be careful—“

“Ahem.”

The four teens straighten their posture. Princess Asha stands before them, holding Valentino in her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“We came to support our friend Hal, Your Highness,” Safi pipes up.

“Aaaaand why are you interrupting our tour?”

“Well, we—“

“Ugh. This is boring me. You’re boring, you know that?” Asha asks. She hums. “Hal. She’s the granddaughter of the Rosas beekeeper, right? Parents were the royal jesters? She’s funny. Be like her.”

A bell tolls, and Asha lights up. “Time to head to the meeting, Val.”

Her goat bleats and jumps down from her arms. Safi sneezes again, and Asha pulls back her skirt with a snarl. “Watch it, Sneezy! Don’t get your germs on me.”

“S-sorry, Your Highness,” Safi sniffles. “It’s just that animals make me— AH—“

Dahlia and Simon put their fingers under Safi’s nose to stop him from sneezing.

“Here, let me help you with that—“ Bazeema starts, but Asha backs up. “No touchy! Nooooo touchy, got that?”

“Sorry, Your Highness,” Bazeema murmurs.

Asha huffs and glances at Safi. “Stay away from Valentino,” she says curtly, before pushing open the castle doors. “Doc, Bashful, with me! Let’s finish this tour so I can get back to my regular duties.” She smiles at the confused crowd. “Come on!”

Bazeema smiles at Simon and Safi. “We’ll meet you inside, okay?” she asks quietly, then nods to Dahlia to come along.

Asha leaves the crowd with Dahlia and Bazeema to prepare for the meeting. Every month the citizens of Rosa’s could come to her parents about their concerns. It usually wasn’t hosted often, but somehow someone found something wrong.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Asha, darling!”

Asha puts on a smile she sees two people standing inside her room. They’re regal, dressed in whites, blues, and golds, and smiling. King Magnus and Queen Amaya, or, as Asha knew them…

“Magnus, Ams,” Asha smiles.

“Well, how did the tour go?” Magnus asks with a warm grin.

“It went pretty well. You know me,” Asha smirks. “There was a snag, but I dealt with it.”

“Did you get to know your people?” Amaya asks, brushing Asha’s hair behind her ear.

Asha steps back. “Amaya.”

“Now, Asha, what do we always say?”

“‘To be a good ruler, you have to understand your roses so they can come to full bloom,’” Asha recites, rolling her eyes. She smiles. “Ams, I get it. And I love Rosas. But they don’t love me.”

“Were you kind?” Amaya asks.

“Yes!” Asha exclaims. “I complimented their friend and gave them a job to do on the tour! They got to be in the presence of me! The ward of the Wishgranter and his wife! The princess of the kingdom that literally grants wishes!”

“We keep wishes safe,” Magnus corrects. “And we were once like them. And you’re our daughter, Asha. You’re family.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Magnus smiles. “I love you, Asha.”

Asha puts on a smile again. “Love you too, Magnus.”

Magnus grins and turns to his wife. “And I love you, mi vida.”

Amaya laughs as Magnus attacks her face in kisses. Asha groans and hides her smile.

“Okay, we should head out for the meeting,” Magnus mumbles against Amaya’s neck.

“Yes, mi rey.” Amaya smooths down her dress. “Asha, are you joining us, dear?”

“It’s my duty as a princess,” Asha says, standing up straight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Hello, Sabino!” Magnus greets as the doors open to a man and a young woman. “Ah, Hal! Hello, my dear. How’s the juggling going?”

“It’s going well, Your Majesty,” Hal says brightly. “Practicing my best. My Saba helps me a lot.”

“That’s lovely. Now, tell us. Why did you grace us with your lovely presence this morning?” Amaya asks.

Hal steps back to give her Saba the spotlight. The doors close, Hal’s friends wave at her from the side rows.

(Sabino looks like this concept of his movie counterpart ⬇️)

“Well, Your Majesties,” Sabino says, bowing his head. “As you know, I am turning 100 today.”

“That is quite an accomplishment!” Magnus exclaims.

Sabino smiles. “Yes, it is quite an accomplishment. Although… it may be my last.”

“What do you mean?” Amaya asks.

Sabino goes on to explain how he was sick and old, and the sickness would soon claim his life… or something along those lines. It was hard to listen to every detail and draw.

Asha liked to call herself akin to the royal scribe. Except, through art.

As Asha flips through her book we can see some concept art from previous Disney movies.

She was currently working her way through a flipbook of Sneezy sneezing, jolting Sleepy awake. The boy kept dozing off, though he looked as if he was trying his hardest to stay awake and support Happy.

Hmm. Asha wondered if she should get Sleepy something to keep him awake. Maybe a prick would keep him awake.

That’s it! She would get him a magic spindle! It would gently prick Sleepy whenever he started drifting off! She was such a good princess.

There, Amaya. She understood the roses now.

“A-and, I know it was something to do with my health and life.”

Right. Sabino was still talking. Asha made another note in the corner of her sketchbook.

“So, I was wondering, if your Majesty would be so kind…” Sabino’s voice trailed off.

“Sabino. My good man.” Magnus’ voice was gentle. “I can tell you that you are right. Your wish has to do with your lifespan. But the Wishgranter has reasons for keeping wishes.”

“Yes, but—“

“Your Majesty,” Hal interrupted. “It’s my Saba’s 100th birthday. He’s waited this long to get his wish granted, no?”

“Hal, I understand your Saba’s patience,” Magnus says. “But there are some wishes that can’t be granted.”

“Your Majesty—“

“I’m sorry, Hal. For the safety of Rosas, Sabino’s wish must stay with me. I will keep it safe, however. The Stars will never harm his—“ Suddenly, Magnus doubles over, clutching his head. His eyes flash gold for a second, then they’re back to normal.

“Magnus!”

“Mi rey!”

Asha and Amaya scramble up to Magnus. Magnifico shoos them away. “I’m fine, my dears. Just another headache.”

“Did you do your monthly check on the Stars?” Amaya asks.

Magnus runs a hand through his hair, then sighs. “No. That’s what it is. Tonight I shall perform the check to ensure that Rosas remains safe. Thank you for reminding me.”

The king composes himself and turns back to his audience. “My deepest apologies, Sabino. I can have the royal Healers come over to your home to see if there’s anything else we can do.”

Sabino falters, then nods. “Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.”

Chapter 2

Author’s notes

Okay! I think I like this format. I’m really happy with the dividers.

This is just setting things up. It’s a lot quicker than comic form, and this will work until I find enough time to sit down and draw. Perhaps this summer.

What I wanted to accomplish during this chapter was to set up the storybook intro and distinguish that from “Welcome to Rosas” (bc in the movie, the song is completely useless? Just add one more page in the book?) but this time, the storybook sets it up with a mystery narrator, and “Welcome to Rosas” introduces Mag and Amaya.

I will be referring to him as “Magnus” while he’s himself.

Intro is done! We know about Asha, what Bazeema and Dahlia are like (which the movie didn’t really touch on), and the backstory of Rosas

Now we can get to the actual call to action! I’ve already written most of Chapter 2 (it’s just formatting stuff) so I’ll see you then!

Thanks for reading! <3

[inksoakedparchment]

1 step forward, 3 steps back

pairing: lorenzo zurzolo x fem!reader

genre: angst

tw: my english, no happy ending

word cunt: 1364

summary: after your peaceful breakup, you can’t move on and call him once or twice a week.

a/n: my heart is breaking, please read this, it’s gonna be good in my opinion. tysm @sunkissedscribbles for the help<3

song: 1 step forward, 3 steps back by Olivia Rodrigo

dividers by @adornedwithlight

You and Lorenzo broke up because your relationship didn’t work anymore. It was full of arguments and you upset each other with your words. So you decided to part away and it was a peaceful and painful breakup.

But still… You couldn’t move on and have been calling him once or twice a week. You thought it was one step forward when you went on a date with a boy, but then you called him again after each date. It’s always one step forward and three steps back.

It’s 2am and you’re staring at his contact and with a sigh, you tap the ‘call’ button. He doesn’t answer immediately which is strange because he always answers your calls right after the first ring.

While the phone is ringing, your mind floods with memories of the heated argument you had just the day before the end of your relationship.

“Jesus, you’re a bitch, Y/N! She’s my friend, nothing more! Why can’t you understand it?” he yells at you. You saw him with a girl, who caressed his arm with a teasing smile and you just mentioned that you don’t like it.

“Oh, really? I am a bitch? What if I say, you’re an egoist, a huge dick, who deserves nothing but pain!” you shout at his face.

“I can’t imagine why I am still with you,” he spits. “I don’t know how I could love you!” you can see his blood is boiling.

“So you don’t love me anymore, good to know,” you’re shaking in anger and disappointment.

“What if I don't?” he asks and steps closer to you.

“Break up, then,” you shrug with feigned nonchalance like it matters nothing.

He sighs and puts his hand on your face.

“Y/N… I’m sorry for calling you a bitch. You’re not,” he shakes his head. “And I love you, it’s not a question”

“Yes, it is. We have only been arguing in the last month. We can’t talk through the problems like a normal couple.”

“I’m going to sleep,” he shuts his eyes. You can feel the breakup getting closer than you thought. “Night, Y/N” he’s about to leave your room.

“Night, Enzo” he looks back at you above his shoulder and nodding his head, he leaves.

You were the love of his life until you made him mad. You could only ask ‘Do you love me, want me, hate me?’ Boy, you couldn’t understand.

And now he’s still not answering that goddamn phone. You lay on your back and a memory slowly slides in before your eyes.

You’re at his place, watching a movie with him, while you two are cuddling up to each other.

“I can’t express with words, how much I love you, amore,” he whispers in your ear. A wide smile spreads across your face and you look up at him.

“Why did you say that from nowhere?” you ask with glittering eyes.

“I felt like I must,” he smiles and kisses your forehead.

“I love you too, so much,” you kiss him gently and then bury your face into his neck.

“Cara mia, you’re the perfect woman I’ve ever seen. I wanna spend my life with you,” he kisses you slowly and deeply.

A tear runs down your cheek as you think about that moment. It’s your favourite memory with him because you thought you two would end up in a marriage and now? Now you’re timezones apart, living in two different countries. He moved back to Italy when you two broke up.

“Y/N, I think we should end this,” Lorenzo points at you then at himself, and your face turns into a grimace. “It’s hurting me too, but you were right yesterday. We’re always arguing and can’t talk like normal people”

“I know, I just… didn’t think the breakup was this close,” you say quietly.

“Me neither, believe me,” he steps closer and wraps his arms around you. “Promise me, you’ll take care of yourself, please,” he says with hazy eyes.

“You too,” you bury your face into his shoulder. “You have to know I didn’t mean it when I said ‘You’re an egoist, a huge dick’. You deserve everything in this world, mostly happiness,” you look up at him.

“You too, principessa,” he smiles painfully. “Take care and goodbye,” he steps away from you.

“Now not a 'see you later,' right?” you shut your eyes.

“Not this time,” Enzo shakes his head and wipes away his tears. He hugs you one last time, then leaves your apartment. After a few minutes, the breakup sinks in and you fall onto your knees with a heavy cry. You wonder what you fucked up. You have always wanted to look pretty just for him. You wanted him to want you, and he did. You wanted to be funny, spoiler; you were. He always laughed at your jokes, and you made him smile after a rough day. But still, something went wrong and the road you shared split up.

The phone starts that annoying line; ‘The number you have dialled is temporarily unavailable’. You sit up staring at his name, hiding your face in your hands.

Lorenzo was staring at his phone until it went silent from your call. Something has finally kicked in and he realized; that talking to your ex after midnight is not healthy. For neither of you. He still loves you and he’ll love you ‘til his death, but he knows the relationship with you was toxic and if you two decided to try again, it would cause more pain. You know it too, but you are still calling him. You can’t let him go. He lays back and a memory of one of your calls hits him.

“How are you?” you ask him quietly.

“I’m fine. You?” he replies.

“Alive, at least I think,” you say shyly. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Y/N, you’re still funny,” he says with a smile. “Why are you calling?” he asks this every time you call him.

“I just needed to make sure, you’re okay. And maybe I miss you,” you try to swallow the lump in your throat back.

“Y/N… We talked about this,” he sighs.

“I know, Enzo. Just please tell me how you are doing in more detail,” you almost beg him.

“Okay,” he puts you on speaker and places the phone next to his head. “So today I went to a coffee shop near to my apartment and I ordered a black coffee. The girl who served me… I asked her for her number and we are going on a date on Sunday. I know you were curious about my dating life, Y/N. I’m not stupid. I hope you'll find someone who can make you happier than I did. I miss you too, by the way,” he says quietly the last part.

“That’s actually good. I hope she’s gonna make you happy,” you sigh. “Today I had a horrible date,” you lie.

“Y/N! You know I can hear from your voice when you lie,” he smiles.

“To be honest, it was a good date. He was kind, a gentleman and handsome, but,” you cut off the sentence by biting your tongue.

“But he wasn't me?” he asks gently.

“Right,” you hum under your breath.

“Give him a chance,” he says with pain in his voice.

“I’ll try. Good night, Enzo,” you wait for his answer.

“Good night, Y/N,” you hang up the phone with a heavy heart.

He falls asleep with this memory in mind, while you’re crying in your bed, curled up. You know it is the end of the calls and the end of hearing his voice. You won’t see him anymore, only on socials. You have to accept that he’s moving on and you must do the same, knowing that you love him endlessly in every fucking universe. He feels the same but you will never know it.

'Cause it's always one step forward and three steps back I'm the love of your life until I make you mad It's always one step forward and three steps back Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand No, I don't understand

tag list: @sunkissedscribbles

comment if you want to be on my tag list<3

[crazyunsexycool]

My little love

Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warning: mentions of death, implied child abuse, slow burns, idiots in love- if i forgot something please let me know. 

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: AAAHHHHH!!!!! so here is chapter one to this new series. It really wasn’t my intention to start this series yet but when inspiration hits you just gotta go with it. Permanent and series tag list open

Series Masterlist

The hydra detention center had been the biggest the Avengers had come across. The area you were in was a prison block. There were three floors of cells and it was currently crawling with Shield agents. It was clear from the moment the team entered that the place was used to keep their ‘experiments’. It was too easy to identify prisoners from hydra scum. Anyone would be sick to their stomach just seeing the filth all of the detainees were being kept in. Most of them seemed to have been used and abused beyond reason. 

The crackling sound of your earpiece gave way to the voices of your team and friends. They each checked in as they cleared the area they had been assigned. Although you were enhanced and trained for combat, your main job was to be the team’s on site medic. So many times during missions you would be the one running from one place to another. Currently you were standing in a cell checking in on someone.

“They’re gone.” You say to Steve as you hear him approach the cell door. 

“Let’s keep moving.” 

You give a curt nod as you stand and start to walk out of the cell but Steve puts his hand up.

“If this gets to be too much for you, let me know.” 

“I will Cap. Come on, we have a lot more cells to check.” 

Steve moves his hand to his right ear and presses down on the earpiece. “Any updates?” 

A chorus of all clears rings through but one voice is missing. You look up at Steve worriedly before the last person checks in. 

“I found another lab in the basement. I really need a medic down here.” 

“Y/L/N is headed your way Buck.” Steve says as he watches you jog toward the elevators. 

The elevator doors slide open and you’re greeted by Bucky. The hallway is dimly lit but you can still see his panicked expression. He grabs your hand and pulls you down the hallway.

“I wasn’t sure what to do, I thought it would be better for you to take a look.” He says as you follow him into a viewing room. The huge windows are facing an operating room. In the center there’s a heart monitor that’s beeping steadily and all sorts of abandoned equipment. It seems that when the team stormed the facility they were in the middle of an experiment. But it wasn’t the place that gave you chills, it was the test subject. 

“Is that what I think it is?” 

“Most likely. That seems to be the only entrance.” Bucky points at a door at the other end of the room and you run towards it. 

Bucky is right behind you. It feels like it takes ages for the first door to close and the second to open. Once it does you rush to the operating table and have your worst fears confirmed. 

Unconscious on the table is a child. They look no older than two year old but considering how malnourished they look they could be older. You run over a few quick checks to make sure you’re able to move the baby. 

“It’s a girl.” You say softly after lifting the sheet that covered the lower half of her body to check for other injuries.

Bucky stands by feeling angry and helpless. It was one thing to use and torture adults but what had this innocent life done to deserve such treatment. It took you calling his name a few times before he snapped out of it. You ask him to relay information for what you’ll need once you’re on the jet and begin to remove everything that had been attached to the child. 

As carefully as you could, you wrap up the little girl in the sheet that had been covering her and then you take her in your arms. You look at Bucky and nod to let him know you’re ready. He leads the way back out to the viewing room and then to the hallway, his gun up and ready to fire if needed. Once you’re in the elevator you take a moment to look down at the child in your arms to make sure she’s still breathing.

“What could they want with her? She’s a baby.” Bucky asks, his back to you.

“Knowing hydra, a lot of things. I just hope we weren’t too late.” 

“She’s in great hands I’m sure she’ll be fine.” 

You can’t help the small smile that appears on your lips. The elevator doors open and Steve heads over to you. He opens his mouth to say something but the words are lost on the tip of his tongue when he sees the little bundle that you’re holding. You don’t wait for him to say anything, instead you rush past him and toward the main entrance where you see Bruce with the supplies you needed. The others kept their eyes on you as you rushed by, unaware of what’s happening.

“What’s going on Barnes?” Nat asked as she and some of the others approached the pair of super soldiers. 

“Hydra was experimenting on a child, a little girl. Hopefully Y/N and Bruce can save her.” 

You and Bruce rushed off of the jet and onto the medical area of the helicarrier. It was a fight against time to be able to stabilize your small patient. In a comfortable silence you both work alongside each other, only speaking when necessary.

There’s a small whimper that comes from the child and it stops you in your tracks. You look up at Bruce and he also stopped what he was doing.

“That’s good. She’s responsive, we still have a chance to save her, right?”

“Absolutely.” He responds with a hopeful smile. 

For the next few hours you work together until you're able to keep her stable. Once you’re done you head out of the small room to find the rest of the team waiting. Bucky and Steve walk towards you first. 

“How is she doing?”

“Bruce and I are confident that she’s going to pull through. She’s a fighter.” 

“Told you she was in good hands.” Bucky says proudly, making you smile.

Steve stands beside you both and rolls his eyes, amused at how oblivious you both were. He clears his throat to get your attention.

“Do we know what they were testing on her?”

You shake your head. “No, we were stabilizing her. Once we are able to push some fluids and she’s able to stay stable for a longer period of time we’ll start doing an in-depth physical. Bruce is doing some x-rays and we’ll go from there.” 

“Ok good, Tony is looking through the files to see what we find on her. Keep us updated.” 

“Sure thing.” You watch as Steve informs the others before they disappear into other parts of the helicarrier. 

“Do you need me to get you anything?” 

Your eyes moved from the hallway back to Bucky. He looked tired but as handsome as ever as he stood there waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble could you get my go bag. I want to change out of this.” You motioned towards your uniform. “I wouldn’t want to scare her if she wakes up.”

“You got it. I’ll be right back.” 

You returned back to the room where Bruce was busy reviewing something on the computer. When he heard your footsteps he turned. 

“Come take a look at this.” 

You come to stand beside him as he pulls up the scans he’d done while you were talking with the others. Bruce begins to point out multiple healed fractures on her arms, legs and ribs. As you both tried to figure out how old the fractures were there was a knock on the door. Bucky popped his head in and opened the door more once you waved him in. 

“Here you go.” He hands you your bag and you excuse yourself to go change. Bucky takes a moment to look around the space before his eyes stop on the girl. “Do you know if she has a name?” 

“Not yet, Tony’s looking through the files though. I’m going to meet up with him now. Can you let Y/N know?” 

Bucky nods and Bruce excuses himself. He gets slightly closer to the stretcher, taking in the tiny body wrapped up in clean sheets. They had shaved her head, it was evident by the tiny scars on her scalp from where they used a razor. She was incredibly pale and malnourished. If he wanted to, Bucky could count her ribs. 

He takes his gloves off and grabs one of her hands in his right one. Bucky smiled slightly at the huge difference in size. Although she wasn’t awake her little fingers wrapped around one of his. He was so focused on her that he didn’t hear you walk back in. You observed the scene before you with a small smile. 

“Where’s Bruce?”  You asked quietly.

“He went to meet up with Tony.” 

You hum in acknowledgement as you grab the chair Bruce had been using and move it towards the stretcher, sitting down in the process. There were no words exchanged for a few minutes, just the two of you watching over the little girl. 

“What’s going to happen to her?” 

“I’m not sure. I’m going to talk with Fury and ask to keep her under my care until we’re at least able to determine what hydra was planning. After that I’m not sure.” 

“Well if he objects I’m sure the team will back you up, myself included.” 

“Good.” You smiled and you were about to say something else when Jarvis announced that you were a few minutes away from Shield’s headquarters. So you get up and start preparing some of the equipment and your little patient for transport. 

When it was time to move Bruce and Steve appeared at the entrance of the room. Both men along with Bucky escorted you out and into a jet so that you could fly directly to the compound while the others handled the other people they had taken into custody. 

It was turning into a long night. Once you’d set foot into the compound you were relieved to find that some of the nurses had been appointed to help you with your patient, Angel, as they had nicknamed her. One of them even had previous experience in working with kids. You weren’t surprised when you walked into the medbay room that had been assigned to her and found a crib along with the medical equipment needed for someone so small and other necessities such as diapers and clothes. 

The nurses had insisted you go get some rest but you weren’t ready to leave Angel alone just yet. You took some time to clean her up and get her dressed. Jenna, one of the nurses, stepped in and helped with the diaper. After that you did finally go to your living quarters, took a shower, changed into some pajamas and finally took a nap.

About two hours later you wake up to the smell of food and you make your way out to your kitchen to find Bucky at the stove. He turns his head to look over his shoulder and smiles. 

“I went by the medical wing and Jenna said you came to rest. Thought I’d make you some food.” 

“Thanks,” you say as you sit on one of the barstools that line the kitchen island. There were two plates and coffee cups. “What is the chef preparing this evening?”

Bucky turns with the pan in one hand and a spatula in the other. “French toast. I know it’s your favorite. And some coffee because I’m pretty sure you’re going back down to see Angel.” He says as he places a few pieces on your plate and then a few on his. Then he moves to fill your coffee cup and sets some sugar and creamer. Finally he sits down next to you.

“Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.”

“Are the others back yet?”

He shakes his head. “Nat called to check in, said they were still dealing with all the detainees and Stark was in a meeting with Fury. Steve headed back there to join them.”

“Is it about the baby?” 

“Yeah, but Steve said not to worry about it. He isn’t going to allow her to leave anytime soon.” 

Hum as you flick your wrist, your fork and knife begin to work on cutting up your French toast while you add cream and sugar to your coffee. Bucky shakes his head while he chuckles. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Your little party trick.” 

“You’re just mad you can’t do it.” You say before taking a sip of your hot drink. Bucky hides his smirk behind his own coffee cup. 

You both sit in silence as you start to eat. It’s easy for both of you, not needing to fill every single minute with conversation. Once in a while you look at Bucky out of the corner of your eye. It still amazes you that he felt so comfortable with you, how much he had changed from the first time he came to the compound. How at ease he was around you. Even after all he’d been through he had shown you that he could trust you and you trusted him too. It’s why you didn’t mind when he just came into your apartment and vice versa. There was nothing hidden between the two of you. 

You stood and grabbed your now empty mug and plate, taking them to the sink.

“I’ll wash the dishes if you want to go down and check on her.”  

“But you already made food.” 

Bucky waved you off before walking towards the sink with his own dirty dishes. “I know you want to check on her, go. Really.” 

You reached up and kissed his cheek before thanking him. He stood there with a pleased smile as he watched you go. 

There wasn’t much for you to really do down in the medical wing. But you went anyway. Normally when you helped someone on the field, you would help get them on the jet and once you arrived at the compound you’d tell the medical team what happened and what you did so they knew what they were dealing with. Now you have a feeling that you’ll be spending a lot of time here, or at least as long as it takes for the sweet Angel to recover. The nurses had informed you that there was no change in her condition and she was still unconscious which was starting to worry you. But still you dragged a chair and sat by her crib. There wasn’t much to do but you wanted to keep an eye on her. You grabbed your phone and searched for fairytale stories, once you found one you liked you began to read to her. 

Every once in a while there would be a small whine or whimper coming from the crib. In those instances you’d stop reading and stand up to get a better look at her. You’d grab her hand gently and tell her that it was ok that she was safe. 

“And they all lived happily ever after. The end.” You finished softly and you looked up to the crib. A small gasp leaves your lips as you realize that not only is your patient awake but she’s looking right at you.  

You get up slowly and you move to stand by the crib. She follows every move you make. The closer you get though her bottom lip begins to wobble and her eyes close. 

“It’s ok sweet girl, I’m not going to hurt you.” You coo softly as you try to grab her hand. She flinches at your touch as she begins to cry. Without many options you carefully pick her up and bring her to your chest, letting her head rest over your heart. You do what you’ve seen your mom do with your younger siblings which is to sway slowly and hum a lullaby. 

Once the crying dies down you turn your head to look at the baby in your arms and find her looking up at you. Stunning bright blue eyes. Eyes that you’ve looked into before. You move to the other side of the room and open a few drawers until you find a sealed off q-tip. 

“Ok sweet Angel, I’m going to get a sample from you just to check something ok?” You said as you sat her on the counter. She wobbled a little before settling down, blinking slowly as she looked up at you. You rip open the package and take a sample of her saliva. When one of the nurses comes by to check in on both of you, you hand her over and head towards the lab. 

With some help from Friday you manage to run the sample and compare it to everyone in the Avenger’s database. You sit back as the monitor mocks you by displaying the result you were almost sure you’d see.

Hydra’s newest test subject was Bucky Barnes’ daughter.

Ch. 2

Permanent taglist:

@kunaikunari @rebekahdawkins @cjand10 @nalny5 @oliviafc15 @sturchling @angywritesstuff @seitmai @writing-for-marvel @goldylions @darkhairedmenrule @little--baby--bear @almosttoopizza @littleseasiren @teambarnes72

[activesplooger]

Progress Update on some WIPS! + teasers! :) | Doe!Reader x Alastor SMUT | Help Me: Part 3 Vox x Assistant!Reader | His New Obsession: Reader x Yandere!Vox

a few days ago i posted a screenshot of some WIPS, and i thought I’d give a progress update! + teasers! i promise im working on everything guys i just want everything to be quality :) ive also been quite busy so, yeah!

Doe!Reader x Alastor SMUT 1/2 DONE

About halfway done! Maybe a lil less than halfway? So far I’ve gotten a lot of the exposition out of the way and im starting to get onto the dirty little smutty part ;) its taking awhile bc ive been busy ALSOO smut is hard asf to write and writing deer themed smut is even harder! lmao guys the amount of deer mating season research ive done is crazy im definitely on some type of watch list now bc of my weird search history lol. I’ve gotten a lot done though! Should be out soon, I’ll let you guys know when itll be out when I get more of it done! A teaser is on my page if u wanna see it!

Help Me: Part 3 Vox x Assistant!Reader

i dont rlly have an exact fraction amount for how much is done lol. i promise i didnt forget about it guys 🙏 i have the whole story pretty much planned out! all the scenes and stuff i want to include (+ the ending duh) are all written down! perchance ill do a bigger teaser tmrw idk sometime this wknd maybeee. I have all the scenes planned out and ik how the whole story is gonna go i just have to articulate it into words and spice it up! :) stay tuned!!

teaser!:

“The Vee's empire grew exponentially and are now the three top overlords in hell. You still worked for Vox, however, your job description changed over the next few years. A lot changed over the next few years…. You went from being introduced as “This is Y/N, my friend and assistant!” to “This is an employee of mine, she won’t be a bother.”.”

this whole paragraph is subject to change, i wouldve done a bigger teaser but im just so unsure about the other paragraphs i might literally delete it all and redo them and i dont wanna edge u guys like that lol.

His New Obsession: Reader x Yandere!Vox

OK THIS ONES SO RANDOM BUT LEMME COOK LMAO. this one has SO MUCH BUT ITS NOT EVEN CLOSE LOL. its gonna be like pretty smutty i think like toxic sweater electrocute my fukin pussy type smut. its gonna be a big one bc im trying not to make it into different parts but that might change. its gonna be a fat minute till it comes out im just chipping away at it every once in awhile 4 fun! :))

teaser!:

“Yes, dear,” Vox gestures to Papermint standing idly in a corner, “This one over here will also be my assistant. You’ll handle the more personal needs of mine while Papermint handles more business related needs.”

“I see…”

Vox, completely entranced by you, puts your resume down and extends a hand out to you across the desk, “Well, that’s all I really need! Congratulations! You got the job!”. Winning sound effects could be heard from Vox’s speakers as he congratulates you.

“Oh! I-Is that it..? No questions..?”

“Nope, I’ve seen enough- Actually, what size are you?”

“Uh… Why?”

“For your uniform, of course!”

(this is also subject to change btw! im slowly doing it its just kind of a fun lil random thing i like to do when i need a break or just feel like it)

—

stay tuned folks! if u wanna be tagged for any of these lmk in the replies!