#though it seems they missed a fam pair?

[webwingalpha]

AH, den slots my beloved.

FINALLY.

[lanafofana]

The Faithwarden & The Archdruid

Day THREEEEEE of HalsinTavWeek is upon us, fam! Pairing: Halsin/Tav(F) Summary: When she is away, Tav wonders if Halsin misses her as much as she misses him. Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI Warnings/Tag: Voyeurism, Mutual Masturbation, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Post Epilogue No Beta We Die Like Yonas (RIP Yonas) And an AO3 link! For all who celebrate.

If Tav had had any idea of the kind of commitment involved with holding the title of Faithwarden, she might have just killed Khaga in cold blood where she stood. The woman had certainly made it tempting enough without the added threat of being named the equivalent of a druidic mediator, judge, and oracle. 

When she said as much to Halsin the former archdruid had only given her the proudest, softest expression and assured her that she was the only druid he had ever met who was well suited to the task. Which might have just been, possibly, the least helpful thing he could have said.

The summons came from all over Faerûn and took her away from home from anywhere between a tenday to months on end. Settling disputes between groves, ousting unworthy leadership, and using her ironclad grasp of Silvanus’ teachings to guide, illuminate, and teach his servants.

Highest honor this. Under the eye of Silvanus himself that. It was godsdamned exhausting, is what it was.  

Every time her duties kept her away from home for longer than a few days her skin itched to return. To ensconce herself in their house amongst the trees, rousing from her meditation and rolling on top of her lover, listening to the chatter of nature while she walked barefoot through the forest born anew. These were the things that tugged at her mind most when found herself many miles from home. 

Frustratingly, Halsin did not seem to miss her quite as much as she did him. When she returned he greeted her warmly enough, an enthusiastic participant in their lovemaking always, but a part of Tav wondered if she was the only one left pining during their separations. 

If she was gone longer than a ten day they would exchange letters or messages through nature, sometimes managing to speak through their meditations though that was rarer. He shared news of the happenings from home, asked after her welfare, and sometimes included messages from the children under their care. All very sweet but the few times she tried to broach the subject in her letters, how she missed him and yearned for his touch, he either said something clinically empathetic about duty or, worse, didn’t address it at all. 

The lack of reciprocation of her desires began to chip away at her confidence in their bond. She began to wonder if maybe she was being selfish trying to bring it up all the time. Perhaps he considered the lust she felt in his absence a youthful fault of her own and nothing to do with him at all. 

When she takes her leave one day she mentions while he walks with her to the boundary of their home, that if it looks like she may need to stay longer she will send a letter before the tenday is out. He smiles and nods but tells her she need not trouble herself on his account and kisses her softly on the forehead. 

Walking away from him, her steps feel heavy, and the words chase themselves in circles in her mind. Hurt blooms like a wicked vine, crawling through her mind with cruel barbs that whisper silky lies that taste like truths. Keeping in contact over long distances is not necessary. If someone should miss her, they surely know how to reach her. He may as well have told her not to come home at all. 

It all boiled down to the same thing. My love does not equal your love. Once she had the thought she found it had taken root and would not be burned away. She heard it as she walked, as she lay staring at the stars, and in her troubled meditations that shattered under the weight of it. It took very little imagination to begin to hear them repeat in her mind with his voice.     The journey is long and difficult but with dark thoughts dogging her heels she pushes herself as far and as fast as she is able. The grove is surprised to see her arrive so early but readily enfold her to the circle and the reasons they called for assistance. 

Two days, one set of bruised knuckles, and a sternly worded letter to an archdruid in Amn later Tav leaves the grove in an even fouler mood than she went in. 

“Please, Faithwarden, at least stay another day. Your journey here was most perilous and long, you should take a day and refresh yourself.” 

Tav tries to put her best face forward, she really does, but it is extremely difficult after her altercation with the grove’s resident healer left her in such a seething rage the First Druid had been forced to physically hold her back from beating the woman to death. When she whirls on the young novice he flinches back and Tav feels the sharp words turn to ash on her tongue. 

She can’t do anything to rid her face of the stern expression that has decided to live there but she does try to curb her tone at the very least. She assures the poor man she was well rested enough thank you very much but must be on her way to her next destination. 

The problem was, Tav had no idea where that destination was. Should she go home? Or would it be so terrible to wander for a bit, away from where she was clearly not as wanted as she supposed. Almost as soon as the thought occurs to her she decides no. She has a stack of letters to work through, almost half of them undoubtedly more summons for her aid. 

Standing in the middle of a dusty, overgrown road she sighs. The tangle of hurt and anger giving way to sudden weariness. Was this to be her doom? Always wandering, always aiding, and never finding a notch to catch her heel and making her stop and rest. To sooth her loneliness with the fleeting, loveless passion between strangers who desire her body or her position. It turns her stomach. Inside her chest her heart feels splintered with cracks. One more blow and she will crumble. 

When she is close to Thaniel’s realm she hesitates crossing the border right away. She decides that the temporary succor of reuniting with her lover, for once, does not outweigh the turmoil inflicted by the detachment of his farewell. It hasn’t even been a full ten-day anyway, so no one will be looking for her return. She can steal in through the window in her raven form, collect her stack of correspondence, and be gone again without anyone the wiser. 

The sky is dark and silent when she begins her mission.  A new moon offers plenty of cover to flit through the dark shadows on her way to the house nestled deep in the center of Thaniel’s realm. Spying an open window she flits though and perches on a chair, cocking her head and getting a read on her surroundings. The house is quiet though; the children are all nestled tight in their beds and the druid is nowhere to be seen. 

She wonders at that for a moment, it’s unlike him to leave the children unattended overnight. Though, she concedes, he does like to wander the border in wildshape when he feels like thinking in solitude. She brushes the thought away and sheds her birdform to creep on soundless steps through the dark home. 

The letters are not in the study where she expected them to be. The desk is tidy, just how Halsin prefers, but the slot where she usually keeps her stack is empty. She rifles through the drawers but they’re simply not there at all. Huffing an irritated sigh she spends a few extra moments poking around the rest of the room but there’s nothing. 

He’s already preparing for you to leave permanently, whispers the acrid voice from before. That makes Tav stop her tracks, her heart and stomach and throat twisting so much she has to put her fist against her chest to assure herself she hasn’t been impaled by an arrow. The cracks within, quiver in expectation but she’s here on a mission, not to feel sorry for herself. She ruthlessly shoves the thought and the accompanying lance of pain from her mind. 

The kitchen is likewise tidy, and the living area where Tav is most guilty of leaving her things strewn around, “like a magpie’s nest,” Halsin had oft remarked. The words had seemed teasingly affectionate then but now, wandering the spotless house, Tav isn’t sure. 

There’s only one place left to check but at this point Tav wonders if she mightn’t just leave after all. It seems unlikely the druid would move her things there, where they had no proper place like the desk. But there is a dreadful anticipation buzzing under her skin and she realizes she can’t not look, can’t leave without seeing for herself if she has been erased from even that space. If he has packed away the odds and ends, removed the evidence of her existence. If he had truly cut her out of his life so thoroughly. 

Her hand on the doorknob, heart in her throat, Tav braces herself. When the door swings open on silent hinges, revealing their bedroom just as she remembered it before she left she lets out a sigh that feels less like relief than she thought it would. Stepping in and shutting the door behind her, her keen eyes can see little that has moved or changed in the few days she’s been gone. 

Her robe is missing from the place it usually hangs but that’s not unusual. The children were very fond of donning it for their make believe games of wizards and sorcerers. The little vanity table the druid had carved for her is littered with her trinkets and keepsakes, untouched. She spins slowly, correspondence forgotten for the moment while she looks for something. Anything to either untether the ache in her chest or banish it for good. But there’s nothing. The room is unremarkable, ordinary in every way. 

She pokes around a bit and finds her stack of letters in the drawer of her vanity. She gives the room another cursory glance but pauses when she hears a gasp. She freezes, wondering if one of the kids had a nightmare and has found her in their search for comfort but the door is shut. The room still. 

Curious, she moves as silent as a shadow towards the alcove where the bed is tucked away from sight by a large screen she brought with her from one of her travels. A very dim light comes into view, a guttering candle more ember than wick left. The view that unfolds beyond the screen however, steals her breath away. 

Halsin is naked on their bed, eyes shut tight, with one hand holding her robe to his face while the other works a fierce pace along his erection. His hand rolls over the leaking head, once, twice, smearing the leaking precum from the tip before returning to pumping his thick length. His head drops back on the pillow, his mouth dropping open as he pants, his face a rictus in concentration. He breathes in sharply, another gasp he can’t hold back while he pleasures himself, lost in his fantasy, with her robe acting as the anchor. 

She feels…giddy. The sight before her would in any other circumstance be enough to have her naked within moments and joining him but the evidence of his clear desire for her, his desperate gasps and near silent wails are the result of his desperate want of her and she…she can’t look away. Her blood runs hot but she’s frozen. 

On the bed Halsin whines, teeth clenching, hips flexing as he tries to fuck his own hand. His heavy breathing is broken by a soft murmur, a whispered litany of words she can barely make out except for one. 

“Tav.” 

The hand holding her robe clenches and he takes a deep breath through his nose, taking in her scent from the fabric and when his eyes slit open Tav feels her own breath shudder out of her. It’s hot, suddenly too hot. His expression betrays surprise, confusion but when his hand stops moving on his cock Tav’s mouth is moving before her brain can catch up.

“Don’t stop,” she commands with a voice that sounds stronger than she feels. Inside she feels brittle and if he pushes the issue she would crumple immediately but he doesn’t. He nods, chest heaving, and his hand resumes its ministrations, his nearly black eyes on hers further driving her wild with desire.

Not even sure what she’s doing anymore Tav sheds her clothes and positions herself at the foot of the bed. A possession has come upon her, moving her limbs for her while her brain is far away. Abandoning his grip on her robe he uses his other hand to squeeze his balls, his breath hitching and in response she feels herself suck in a breath sharply. When he growls, stare heavy on her, she licks her lips and drags the hot skin of her palm across her nipples, her stomach, before finally dipping between the lips of her sex, seeking the bundle of nerves that throbs for attention. 

“Tav,” he utters, breathing thready and she sways. 

She drinks up the sight of him; squirming, needy, and skin flushed with arousal. The precum welling up from his tip looks like beads of pearls before he swipes it away to join the wet slick slide of his grip pumping his sex. When his hips start to jut into his hand again her hips jerk to echo it, her fingers swirling around her clit increasing their pace to keep rhythm with his movements. 

The silent room has become a chorus of their echoing gasps, groans, and stilted breathing. The lewd wet sound as they masturbate to each other’s pleasure is obscene and Tav nearly comes apart with the force of how much she likes it. She watches with intense hunger, the flex of each muscle as he unravels under her gaze. 

“I’m–! “ He breaks off, throwing his head back, the corded muscles of his neck taunt, the column of his throat damp with sweat. 

“Y-yes!” It’s all she can manage to choke out before she’s lost to the sensation of her toes curling, jaw clenching. 

They orgasm together, the sight of his seed spurting across his hand, his stomach, his chest has her moaning and grinding her finger into her clint until she exhales an aching, guttural sob, vision exploding with stars.

She crashes to her knees on the mattress, throwing out a hand to catch herself from falling face first into the blanket while she blinks away the haze of her orgasm. There’s movement and before she’s fully inhabiting her body again his mouth is on hers, his hands pulling her into his embrace. They’re both sticky and sweaty, but it feels like coming home after being away for a decade and she throws her arms around his neck and plunges her tongue into his mouth. 

Breaking apart, still catching their breath they sit entwined, foreheads together while they come back to their senses. 

When she finally meets his gaze it’s to find it already on her, soft and warm. The ache in her chest cracks wide open and she bursts into tears. 

“My love?” Halsin’s voice is the comforting rumble of a summer thunderstorm and it only makes the tears flow more insistently. 

“I–I thought...” The words die in her throat. It’s stupid, it’s ludicrous. How could she ever have even dreamed this sweet man would do the things she had supposed. What foolishness had bewitched her? How did she let her mind come to those awful conclusions? She doesn’t have an answer and speaking the words out loud feels fraught with peril. 

Halsin doesn’t press her but cradles her head against his chest, running a hand down her back in a soothing gesture that only makes the tangled mess of her emotions a stronger torrent of tears. He rocks her, humming something slow and soft. He kisses the fevered skin of her forehead, clutching her body to his tightly, securely, until at last she feels her last sob give way to hitching sighs. 

“I think…I think I’ve been incredibly foolish,” she admits, pulling away to look at him with bloodshot eyes and a snotty nose. 

Halsin takes that in but instead of interrogating her, he thumbs away her tears gently before pressing featherlight kisses against the damp skin of her face. 

She breathes in, sucking what courage she can from the air between them and haltingly begins to explain. Halsin’s face goes through several complicated emotions as she speaks before settling on sadness. 

When she is done relaying the whole of it. How she thought he did not miss her and how it snowballed so horribly from there, he takes her face in both his hands and kisses her softly. 

“I miss you,” he begins firmly, holding her gaze. “I miss you when you are not near, whether that means you have gone to answer a summons to a far away grove, or down to the river to collect the children, or even when you are laying in this bed in a trance close enough to touch. I miss you like the land misses the rain in a drought,” he takes her hands in his and presses them to his chest. “I miss you like the winter misses the sun; the dragon misses his flight; the Tears of Selûne miss the moon when its light is extinguished and they are left to trail along until she returns. Without you by my side I feel my days grow dark and grey and spend too often looking over my shoulder for the moment you might appear and bring the light to shine on me again.”  

“But–” 

“I miss you,” interrupts Halsin urgently. “With everything that I am. Foolishly I held myself aloof in your absence because I did not wish to burden you with my own selfish suffering. You already found the duty bestowed on you an oppressive one and I did not wish to add myself to your troubles. I see now that was a mistake. One I will not commit again.” 

“I’m sorry,” says Tav, looking away. “I should have tried harder to explain what I…what I wanted, I suppose. What I needed from you.” 

Halsin smiles and nuzzles her cheek. “We each of us have learned something here today and I think we are the better for it, no?” 

“You’re very wise, archdruid,” says Tav with a small smile, the spark coming back into her eyes. “You wouldn’t be interested in becoming Faithwarden, would you?” 

Halsin laughs and tugs her into his arm again, burying his face in her neck, and stroking her hair and the bare skin of her back. “I’m afraid I’ve quite retired from druidic duties, my heart.” 

“Yeah yeah, rub it in.” She pulls back from his embrace when a thought occurs to her and she scans his wide chest in puzzlement before she spies her rolled up robe cast aside on the floor. “Halsin Silverbough did you use my robe to clean up your– “

He leans in close and snatches a kiss to cut her off. “I will wash it myself.” 

“Yes you will, that was a gift I got in Waterdeep! Silvanus protect you if I have to go back to that fetid kingdom of money plagued rats to get another one.”

He grins and snatches another kiss before rolling away and snatching the robe off the floor, backing away to the door. “I’m glad you’re home, my heart.” 

“You’re not going to be very glad if you don’t go put that in some water right now!” 

“Yes, dear,” he calls, sauntering away

“Cold water, Halsin, I’m serious!” He doesn’t respond and she trails after him in alarm. “Halsin? Are you listening?” 

“Always, my heart.”  

The End

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 6

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smutty smutty smut; talk of Reader's anxiety; drunkenness; New Girl spoilers (if you’ve never watched the show and don’t wanna know things!); absent parent thoughts; heavy petting; oral sex f!receiving; fingering; oral sex m!receiving; unprotected p in v sex; spanking (hehe); Reader is stubborn; Jake is stubborn (if i missed any that may have triggered you, please let me know!!)

Chapter Word Count: 24.5k+ (damn. i'm v sorry lmao)

Covet Masterlist

a/n: welllll, after summer school (that shit really took it out of me), one vacation w my whole fam, two gvf shows with my sis @joshym, an extended vaca in nash (bc we just HAD to!!), and INSANE writer's block....... HERE IS CHAPTER 6! finally! i'm insanely sorry it took so damn long. thank you all for being the fkn B E S T and so understanding and the best gresties/readers a girl could ask for! <3333 ("heart eyes, motherfucker" - that's how i feel about u all :) (also if u remember that vine, ily even more now))

i hope you enjoyyyy ;)

-🌼🌼🌼-

At the beginning of July, you were stacking a shipment of some blues records in a bin at work, your mind in a blank space, which naturally moved you to think of the one person who was seemingly always at the back of your mind.

Jake.

He’d really just taken up residence in your brain, as he had in your home.

He was still on his shit. You know, acting like a pouting child, barely acknowledging you. Even after you’d literally bared yourself to him, pussy out, nipples pebbled in the open air. . . 

You blew a breath through your lips, and tucked hair behind both ears, readjusting your thought process. 

Now he seemed set on only acting like an ass after your time in the cramped bathroom had been cut short. Before, he’d taken the time to still seek you out. After the incident in your bedroom, he’d literally shown up at the B&G, begging you to come see him.

Were you just not worth it to him anymore?

You rolled your eyes to yourself, focusing on stuffing records in the bin alphabetically. 

It. Didn’t. Matter. He didn’t matter.

Really.

And you knew he didn’t matter because it wasn’t hard for you when you finally decided to play into his behavior—his little game. You didn’t stop yourself when you started to match his energy. It was easy to act as though you didn’t care about him. 

Because you didn’t. 

All you really needed was to satisfy that itch and then—then, you’d be good. 

But as you came across a re-release of a Howlin’ Wolf record, you suddenly became slightly disheartened at the thought of it all. What if this wasn’t a game for him? What if he was actually so upset that he just decided you weren’t worth it? Would you ever get as close as you had at the gig again? Did he still want you like he had in the bathroom that night? Or in your bed the night before Baby’s?

You shivered as you (once again) thought of his hardened dick pressed up against your leg. You could hear his voice, low and sultry.

“That’s what you do to me.” 

Fuck. Did you still do that to him? You hoped so.

Then there was the feeling of him pressing into you, your bare ass on the cold ceramic of the sink, leaning your body into him, craving more—so close. 

God.

You frustratedly groaned and shoved the vinyl in its place and shook your head. It didn’t matter. Really. But you couldn’t help your heart falling at the idea of him not wanting you like you wanted him. 

All you could do was hope that he still wanted it—wanted you, like he had before. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You'd also started July deciding that in order to keep some sense of dignity, it would be best to not go see Jake perform. Especially if it was possible he’d completely closed himself off the idea of you. 

It was humiliating to be a try hard.

You would distance yourself from that part of his life, if he was going to ignore you and distance himself in your shared home. 

Did you want to see him play again? Hell freakin’ yes. It had been such an intimate experience that first night. You’d felt so privileged to witness it the way you had then, up close to share his emotions as he played, holding his eyes almost any time he’d looked up at you. You’d been taking in every flick of his fingers, every thrust into the back of his guitar, the concentration on his sweaty face . . . and he’d wanted you to watch. He’d wanted you there, in that moment, with him.

You could still see him clear as day, tanned skin glowing in the B&G, his eyes golden in the evening sun, pleading with you. . .

“I really want you there.”

When you’d gone to their last shows in June, all you wanted was to feel that way again. Connected to him. Close to him. You wanted it so badly—but it seemed he didn’t want it anymore. He hadn’t looked at you once during any of the shows. To be fair, you had been standing so far towards the back that it’s possible he hadn’t even known you were there. But, he hadn’t even tried to seek you out to ask you to come like he had before (if it really was possible he thought you weren’t there). 

Things were just different than before. 

So, yeah. It was best that you didn’t go. You didn’t want to seem desperate or possibly annoy him with your presence just in case he did see you at a show. You’d made up your mind that it was obvious he didn’t want you there. He wanted things like they currently were. 

And it wasn’t so much that it hurt to have him act so aloof and absent and uncaring. It didn’t hurt. Really. You’d tried to convince yourself that he was just making you angry. Nothing more.

So, you just continued to play his game however well you could. It wasn’t that important. 

Though, any time he left the apartment, looking deliciously ready for a performance, all you wanted to do was follow. But instead, all you’d actually do was look at him from wherever he passed you in the apartment. You’d glare at him, matching his pissy behavior as long as he continued to show it. 

But you’d eventually noticed that his eyes weren’t always holding irritation when he passed you. . .sometimes, you could have sworn his eyes held more longing than anything. 

Although, as soon as you’d think you saw it, he was already gone. And you would eventually decide that you’d imagined it.

You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if it was possible that underneath his moodiness he did still want you?

All you wanted was to understand what he was feeling. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

So, after not going to their shows for the first couple weeks of July, Josh had finally reached out on the night of one, asking if you’d come because he ‘missed seeing you’.

You initially wanted to send a text back that said: ‘No, sorry. Your brother sucks and I’m mad at him right now. And if I go all I’ll want to do is fuck him senseless after watching him play, even though he probably doesn’t want that at all. So, I have to decline.’ 

But, then you guiltily started thinking of how you needed to support your best friend and the other two guys. It was incredibly rude of you to not go see Josh, Sam, and Danny do their thing simply because Jake was a pain in the ass that you couldn’t figure out. 

You wanted to support your friends. Support Josh.

So that’s why you ended up texting an ‘Of course! What time?’ in response. 

And as you got ready that night, you pulled on a cropped Cream T-shirt, thinking momentarily of your roommate. Would he like it if he saw it? Or would it piss him off?

Pushing it out of your mind, you focused on how excited you were now, the idea of getting to see them live again. 

The guys put on a helluva show; they were absolutely magnificent, so magnetic. 

Once you felt totally ready to go, you secured an Uber to pick you up, already planning to have a few drinks to ease your mind at the show.

As you put your shoes on, you thought. . . The thing that made you most excited really wasn’t seeing the band perform again as a whole. It wasn’t even the thought of seeing Josh. It was getting to simply be near Jake again, pathetic as it may sound. And the thought of seeing him play again. . . Fuck. Watching him was so enticing. He was like a drug. . .always drawing you in.

There was no denying the way your stomach fluttered at the thought of watching him perform again. Because even though he was pissing you off and you had no earthly clue how in the hell he was feeling, watching him perform was unlike any adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced. 

(Save for the feeling of your blood pumping erratically at the feeling of him tucked between your legs. That was a feeling unlike anything else.)

-🌼🌼🌼-

Like you had at shows before, you sat at the back to witness the performance. 

It had been great, per usual. Jake had left you wanting him from your seat. And just like it had been at the shows in June, he never failed to make you feel incredibly stupid for stopping things in the bathroom the night of their first show. 

Yet now, while they performed their encore, you hadn’t left the venue like you normally did. You hadn’t tried to get the hell out of dodge. 

No, tonight, you stood at the outdoor bar area connected to the back of the venue. It was set in a huge space covered in bright green turf, a small patio with a couple of tables, and plenty of Edison bulb string lights to set the cool mood of the place. 

There were even a couple of ping pong tables and a cornhole game set up for people to play at. A random sporting event was drawing in a few college-aged men, on a giant flat screen TV.

Although, unlike those men, it wasn’t your choice to be hanging out in the open area. You had wanted to avert to your normal plan of leaving to go home with a quick ‘proud of you!’ text to Josh. 

You wanted to avoid Jake seeing you at all costs. But Josh had inadvertently seen to it that you wouldn’t get away with that plan again.

He’d apparently caught onto your little trick. Before you could begin to type a text, and before they’d even come out for their encore, Josh had sent a text. Or three. 

Josh, 10:23 p.m.: Don’t you dare leave.

Josh, 10:23 p.m.: I really want to see you and give you a hug 

Josh, 10:24 p.m.: I don’t see you nearly enough these days and I miss you dearly and I really want to have just one drink with you after the show. Pleeeeaaaase

So, here you were, outside before the set even totally ended, standing at the bar, downing another lemon drop to calm your nerves. You really just wanted to be home, with Stevie snoring against your calves. 

You were not totally ready to be in the same area as Jake for an extended amount of time.

You were just asking for your another beer when you felt someone sidle up beside you. The nudge against your shoulder, and the familiar hint of patchouli in his cologne, made you grin at your best friend.

“One salty dog for me,” Josh said as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. After a nod, the bartender went to get his drink ready, and he turned you fully into him to give you a big hug. 

It felt so safe. . . but you couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to be this close to Jake instead.

When you pulled away, you momentarily closed your eyes, collecting your thoughts. When you opened them, you watched as he placed an elbow on the bar and a hand on his hip. His eyebrow went up. 

“Great job tonight. I’m so prou—.”

“Why haven’t you let me know your anxiety’s been flaring up again?” He interrupted, obviously worried.

You blinked once. What? “What?”

“Last month, you kept fleeing before I could even take a breath after a set. I figured you were just trying to get some sleep with your summer classes starting. But then you just stopped coming altogether,” he scooted in closer to you. His voice got lower, his eyes concerned. “I just wanted to put eyes on you. I’ve been so busy; I haven’t had time to check on you like normal. My schedule is shit. I figured this would be a way for me to see you and make sure you’re doing alright,” he continued, reaching his hand up to lightly rub your shoulder. “It came later this time. I expected it to get bad at the end of May, but it never came. What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you eating?”

Your cheeks pinkened. With your concern for avoiding Jake at these gigs, you hadn’t even taken time to think about how your behavior might have worried Josh. Of course he’d been thinking deeply about your absence. He cared so much for you, and was a sole confidant on multiple occasions of your depression induced anxiety flare-ups. And, to be fair, being flighty usually signaled the beginning of your bigger bouts with your superb anxiety-depression combo.  

You’d had a few times in your friendship where it had gotten really bad. Definitely a trauma response, almost always coming with a change in season. For some reason, the change in leaves, flowers blooming — it always made you think of just how much your mom had broken you. You didn’t get to appreciate the beauty without it being tainted by darkness. Your mother's leaving had come right at the turn of fall into winter. 

There had been a few times after Elsie left when it got so bad that Josh’d insisted he stay with you. With your sister around, he wouldn’t always stay the night when it hit you, but he’d check on you at work, and hover with texts, food, and quality time until he felt you were better.

But this had nothing to do with your mother. And really, your anxiety wasn’t bad. Jake wasn’t causing you anxiety for you at all right now. You didn’t know what you were feeling. Were you on edge around Jake at all times? Yes. But it wasn’t anxiety. It definitely wasn’t depression. Sadness that he could possibly not want you, yes. But it wasn’t something dark like the thought your mother might bring. You didn’t know what it was. 

You just knew you had to reassure Josh.

“I’m okay,” you looked into his eyes and reached out to hold his hand on the bar. “Yes, I’m eating. I’m just—feeling a lot right now? I don’t know. It’s weird,” you shook your head and removed your hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. How could you explain this to him? You couldn’t. “Just a lot going on in my head.” 

He studied you, squinted his eyes. “Is there something I should know about?” He questioned, his voice getting crisper as he tried to make pieces click. Your stomach dropped. “You’re being vague. You’re sure it’s not—?”

“No,” you shut your eyes, huffing a frustrated breath. “Yes. I’m—it’s just—I don’t know.” Improvise, improvise, improvise. “When Elsie was in town, we talked about my mom. I’ve just been in my feelings, I guess. And, yeah, summer classes have started and that’s added some pressure, too. But it’s not anxiety or depression or anything,” you connected eyes with him again, and reached to squeeze his hand. “I promise.”

He still didn’t seem convinced. You weren’t surprised. He was an empath after all. He shouldn’t be convinced. He knew better than to believe that was all it was. But you didn’t want him knowing any better than an assumption in his head. And as long as the assumption didn’t have anything to do with his brother, you were okay with whatever he was assuming. And, you being in a weird headspace because of your mom wasn’t a lie. You truly had been. He’d even witnessed it at the coffee shop. 

It just wasn’t the whole truth. The biggest thing was something he absolutely couldn’t know: the way your mind had been swarmed with Jake, Jake, Jake for the past months. And it’d only gotten worse with the past couple . . .events.

The thought of Josh catching on to anything about his brother continued to make you fearful of him possibly being cross with you over it. Or worse, made you fear him feeling betrayed by you. You didn’t want him upset or thinking poorly of you for possibly distracting Jake in any way. 

You couldn't be to Jake what his ex had been. And you feared Josh’s mind would go to that immediately—out of protection for his brother. Rightfully so.

His eyes settled back to normal, accepting your answer for the time being. His eyes curved down with understanding. “I saw you watching that girl and her mom at the coffee shop. I should’ve known.”

All you could do was nod. You didn’t know what more to say to cover your ass. 

You cleared your throat, signaling you were ready for a change of topic. “Enough about me. How are you feeling about all of these amazing shows, rockstar?”

He grinned wide, letting his worries go as a drink landed in front of him. 

And in no time, things were like they’d always been. 

Just you and Josh, not a lingering thought for Jake’s moods as you let yourself listen to his twin’s many thoughts and feelings of this new life of his.

You just had to try your best to ignore the way your heart leapt in your chest at any mention of Jake’s name in a story.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

I wasn’t prepared for the sight of her as I walked out onto the back area of the establishment. 

And fuck it all, if she wasn’t the first thing my eyes found in that slightly crowded space. It would be impossible for her not to be—she was most definitely the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. 

But my heart immediately dropped when it registered that she was holding Josh’s hand, talking animatedly with him. It would be stupid for me to assume she’d come for anyone else but him. 

I had thought for sure that she’d been interested—wanted me—that night at Baby’s All Right. She’d said so much the night before that —her being so open with me at our home, right before we’d kissed for the first time in the hallway. 

Then, that night at Baby’s. . .I’d been so close to her, feeling her swollen pussy, still wet from my mouth, on the head of my cock. The way her body had thrummed around me. . .making my body need more. 

But just before I was inside of her, she’d heard my brother and her mind had gone immediately to him. Only caring what he thought. 

I didn’t know what to think about what they had between them. It was very possible that they were just friends—best friends. I knew that was likely the case. 

(And if I were thinking reasonably—it was definitely the case from how Josh talked about her sister.)

But my ways of reasonable thinking had been shot to shit these days. 

I’d been burned by assuming something similar in the past. The whole “just friends” thing was a cover I wasn't too fond of. Thanks to the woman I’d loved in the past, my trust was shot and I had become a primarily “glass half empty” thinker. My past had bit me in the fuckin’ ass. 

But y/n—she made me feel electric again—full of life. She was the most beautiful symbol of a fresh start. A fresh start I’d been craving—a feeling I’d been chasing for years. 

I truly hadn’t felt so full of possibility since I was 16. Even when we’d bicker, I felt this glimmer of hope for my life. . . She was a natural light. 

I just wanted her so bad, going dizzy at the sight of her . . . And that was a feeling I hadn’t ever felt with any other woman. My brain was almost always fuzzy when she was near. 

She was absolutely breathtaking, every movement she made that had her hair flowing in slow motion around her head, the way her eyes hooded when it was just the two of us. . . but even better, the way her eyes shined, so bright, all the time. She was positively heaven sent. 

And I’d be an idiot to think she’d want me more than my brother—who she’d known for years, who she was instantly drawn to at all times. They had natural chemistry. Anyone with two eyes could see it. 

She deserved a light that matched her own. Could I capture that light? Yes, I knew I could. But I’d been so terrible to her from the get-go; I wouldn’t blame her gravitating towards Josh—feeling safer with him. 

Like he always said, he was the sun, and I was the moon. I naturally came with darkness. I’d made it clear enough by acting like an asshole for the first portion of my time living with her. 

People who knew me knew I was notoriously terrible at reacting to hurt. I didn’t naturally know how to handle my emotions like Josh was practically born knowing to do. 

And the moment I laid eyes on her that first night at the apartment—when she’d opened the door. . .her hair falling against her sweet face, her eyes opening to show me the most beautiful color I’d ever seen. I knew then that I was a goner. 

But it’d seemed to be terrible timing at that instant. Feeling so drawn to her—it was coming right after I’d had the biggest life change. My heart was hurting—not necessarily broken, just . . . lost.

And I didn’t want her to be involved in the hopeless sea I’d been drowning in since my past troubles had come crashing down around me. 

Though, when I’d first seen her, standing there, the evening sun hitting her stunning face in her doorway— I felt like all of the pirates I loved to study. I’d found a hidden treasure I couldn’t even imagine could be so beautiful— just around the bend for so long, finally in my grasp. 

But I hadn’t known her. I hadn’t even met her. She was a treasure that wasn't mine to enjoy.

And I truly needed to heal, without bringing someone else down with me. I was scared of all I was feeling, and I only knew to react with bluntness, rudeness, irritation at every fucking turn. I’d even brought girls to bed to try to get her the fuck out of my mind. 

But it never happened. She was persistently there, in my everyday routine, in the eyes of the girls I'd mindlessly fuck. She'd sealed a sweet spot in my brain. 

But I’d still kept up with the douchebag act.

It was so unfair.

She’d tried so hard to be friendly, and I never greeted it well. I hadn’t known what to make of it all. That first night, Josh had said we were the same. Though, as he’d said this, I’d been watching her—so peaceful and beautiful, deep in a surely dreamful sleep. 

It’d instantly made my stomach dip when he said it. . . I knew well enough that she couldn’t be the same as me. 

But she was the same as Josh—pure, unadulterated bright, yellow sunshine. She was the sun on a spring day, flowers blooming and the grasses so green. Not a cloud in sight. 

But I was the cloud in her flawless sky. I’d been reminded of that when she’d stopped us at Baby's, saying she didn’t want Josh to know. It seemed she didn’t want to take a chance on people knowing we’d been so close.

I could only assume she didn’t want that darkness in her life, and I didn’t blame her. 

So I’d separated myself from her.

After that night, when Josh had told me of her being at our other gigs in June, I’d brushed it off. I knew why she was there—for Josh. I hadn’t even tried to seek her out because I knew that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want me near her. Didn’t want people to know how close we had been. 

How well her body shaped to mine in secret— and it was just that: a secret she wanted kept. 

Especially wanted it kept from Josh. To him, she wanted us to be strictly roommates. So that’s what I’d decided I’d be for her. 

I’d wanted to ask her to come to shows after our little stint, but I fought the urge every time it came on. I wanted her there, I fed off of her energy—she made me play better. But, I didn’t want to rub her the wrong way after she’d put her foot down in the bathroom. I didn’t want to come off too strong. 

I’d also given my best attempt to not let my feelings show in the past weeks. It had been so hard anytime I’d meet her beautiful eyes. Her eyes that, over the past week, had seemed to turn from something hopeful when she looked my way to what could only be called disdain —disdain for me.

I had been an asshole, and she was better than that . . . 

But, still, all I wanted was her. I wanted to take back everything I’d said or done out of hurt, due to not knowing how to handle my mess of feelings. 

I wished I could go back to day one and make things different. I wished I could go back in time to stop myself from becoming a slab of stone to cope with my feelings. If I would have just been myself. . . Maybe I’d have her now— ever-endearing and enrapturing.

Fuck. And as I watched her tousle Josh’s hair, I just wanted to feel her fingers in mine again. My heart twinged with jealousy at the action.

“Look who’s here!” 

Sam’s loud voice snapped me out of my reverie. I continued to watch her, her smile widened at Sam’s voice, looking in his direction, and away from Josh. Then, without warning, she looked over to me as I was still studying her face—the way her full lips stretched to show her beautiful beam. 

But as soon as she looked at me, her smile fell. And all I wanted in that moment was for her smile to get bigger when she saw me, just as it had when she saw Sam.

I just wanted her. 

I decided at that moment, I was going to bite the bullet. I could make one more move to be close to her again. And if there was one moment where she acted as if she didn’t want it, I’d back off. 

But right now? I couldn’t see that happening. Couldn't see her backing off. She didn’t pull her eyes from mine, and I never let my gaze fall from hers. She held me with her stare, and I held her with mine. 

It was just us.

And as I came up on her other side, opposite Josh, she never broke eye contact with me, turning from my twin. And even as Sam and Danny traveled behind me, she only looked at me. 

I watched her chest rise and fall, the swell of her breasts making my mouth run dry from where they peeked out at the makeshift tear at the top of her shirt. The sugary sweet smell of her perfume made all of my senses lurch forward, wanting to take her—all of her— right at that moment.  

I was close enough to see the shine from the Edison bulbs around us, reflecting in her irises. 

Daniel and Sam came up to give her hugs, honestly acting completely oblivious to what was transpiring between us. Josh was chatting it up with the bartender, asking if he heard us from out here. 

And finally, they all left to go play ping pong. They’d offered for us to go play, but she hadn’t even acknowledged them talking. I waved them off, and looked at them with a shake of my head. I felt her eyes continue to pore over me as she let me do the work to get them to leave. 

Then, y/n and I were in our own world, I placed my forearm on the bar, my body curving to be around hers of its own accord. She followed by turning her whole body to face mine. It felt natural as she leaned into where I stood. She wasn’t quite touching me, but she let her own body follow all of my movements. 

I couldn’t help but feel my chest puff as she let her body move with mine as I matched her, moving in time with her. I was the dull moth and she was the bright, alluring flame.

I wondered if it felt as seamless for her as it did for me, she sat her elbow on the bar, and leaned her hip against a stool. She went to sit on top of it, but she struggled with her footing, so I let my instincts take control and I helped her onto it. However I could help her, I wanted to. 

I also wanted nothing more than to touch her, so that seemed like the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. 

The gasp she released when I touched her, and lifted her the slightest bit to help her situate on the glittery plastic top of the stool, combined with the way her legs spread the slightest bit, her black jean shorts showing so much of her sweet, sun-kissed thighs—it made all of my blood rush through me and to a throbbing halt at the head of my cock.

I wanted to cross my legs to make sure it wouldn’t show what she was doing to me. But she was so magnetic, I couldn’t help the last step I took, towards the stool, to be closer to her. I was so close that my thighs touched her knees. Her knees, which she then crossed, in the process grazing the zipper of my jeans. 

My breath caught in my chest, and my dick pulsed. She was still looking down at where she’d touched me, so I knew she saw what I felt happening in my pants. 

She shot me a look, questioning all of this. And all I could do was look down at her, letting my eyes sweep over her entire outfit. So simple, yet so lovely, as always. She was wearing a cropped band tee (Cream. Fuck—did she do that on purpose?) and those cut off black denim shorts, with her black-colored toenails showing in a pair of cheap black flip flops. 

I swallowed hard, feeling so entranced by her. My gaze went back to her face, the most appealing part of the woman. Her face was so open, so kind, so pretty—it had done nothing but draw me in since day one. And being so close to her again, I saw the familiar dusting of a few lighter freckles that dotted her nose. She was smiling—her eyes were smiling— at me. 

Somehow it seemed she knew exactly what was going through my mind. Crazy how we’d been avoiding each other for the past couple of weeks, but now just clicked back together as if we were back at Baby’s All Right—in the cramped space of that bathroom.

I looked into her bright eyes, feeling something overwhelming come to life in my chest. 

Fucking hell. She was perfect.

I needed this. I needed to feel this with her again. I’d missed it. The closeness.

“Hi,” I said with a nod, just loud enough for her ears to hear. 

She blinked once, her eyes wide and wondering. Fuck. She was so damn cute. 

Then, I watched fondly as her dimples showed in her cheeks with a soft grin. “Hi.”

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

It had been a decent amount of time since Jake had come up to stand right next to you, completely ruining any chance for sanity on your end. 

He’d acted so normal, so forward. His actions were exactly what you’d needed to feel relieved—to know that all was okay. 

You’d gotten nervous being around him, like Elsie would say, you were pretty sure you had a ‘good ‘ol crush.’ Nothing more. You focused on complimenting the set when you’d talked, asking simple questions, just to hear his voice explain the same things Josh already had. The raspiness in his tone was just delicious, and you wanted to hear the small things from his perspective more than anyone else’s.

When you weren’t listening to him talk, you pretended to be interested in the game on the flat screen—you had no clue what they were doing on the field, but it was distracting you from how sweaty your palms were getting at Jake being so close.

Though, you were now several beers (and a couple margaritas) in, previously deciding you wanted to make this night like old times where you’d get drunk and have fun with the guys. The boys’d come up to you a few times in your precious time being next to Jake. They’d bump you with a shoulder as they grabbed a drink. . . Josh only coming by once or twice, having been the chosen one to hold off, as he was the DD.

And, per usual, Sammy had chosen a game that would supposedly be much more fun, completely inebriated: ‘drunk ping pong.’ 

“Like normal ping pong, except you’re drunk!” Sam had excitedly said, his signature cackle following his words. He was right there with you on the 'shitface scale'.

Jake had barely left your side all night, and it felt so right to be so close to him, to stay with him. It felt right, just like it had before, except this time, it had nothing to do with anything sexual. . .it was just his simple presence that made you feel good. 

(You weren't going to talk about how you'd felt his dick twitch in his tight jeans. . .because holy fuck. Your panties had been the victim when that had happened.)

By the middle of the ping pong game, you were still drinking. You felt light in the head, completely carefree. You even caught yourself leaning into Jake a few times, the two of you deciding to be a team against Sammy and Danny. Josh preferred being the referee for the game, getting a chance to nonstop talk by narrating the entire game.

At one point, you knew you were leaning back into him, but you were far too gone to care. You’d purposefully pressed your ass against his crotch, and he’d patiently repositioned you. You were grateful for him being so aware, because you knew you’d regret it in the morning if something stupid happened in front of your friends. You just couldn’t control your actions like a sober-you normally could. 

You were in a body that was moving on its own, your brain barely registering what you’d do.

He’d repeatedly asked if you were doing alright, and you’d get so lost in his chocolate gaze you could only breathe a ‘yes’ in response. 

And, now, as you settled into a booth inside the establishment, it was nearing 1 a.m., and you were simply listening to the guys talk about their next performance. And as you had been all night, you were next to Jake. 

At this point, you were cuddled up next to him more than anything else. You felt so cozy with him. His body was a warm furnace for yours. You were sitting in a way that none of the other guys could see what you were doing. Because of them not seeing your bottom half, you situated a leg over his thigh, comfortably draping it the best you could to make it look as inconspicuous as possible (while simultaneously being incredibly drunk). 

But you could barely worry about it when you leaned your head on his shoulder. You were sleepy. And he was warm, right, and close. 

And he smelled so fucking good. Hints of sage and vanilla overwhelmed your senses, mixed with sweat. . .it was the perfect mixture that helped to lull you to sleep, along with the calming vibration of his voice as he talked with his brothers, your head laying on his shoulder perfectly placed for the melodic sound waves from his voice. 

And right before you dozed off, you felt one of his calloused hands lay on your thigh, warm on your cooled skin. You snuggled into him, a small smile finding its way to your lips.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Before you knew it, the same hand was squeezing your thigh, urging you to wake up.

“Y/n. . .let’s go home,” his voice softly said, his minty breath hitting your face. Home. As your eyes wedged open, you looked up at him to find the apples of his cheeks redden with a deep laugh as he reacted to something Josh said.

If only you could just kiss him - right then and there.

You were still too out of it to register what Josh was saying, but you noticed the other three standing around the booth, Jake securely next to you still. 

Your tummy fluttered at him being so attentive to you, and continued on that way as he helped you climb out (or rather squeak out of the booth, your bare thighs making racket against the seat). 

“Y/n. . .,” Sam started, his voice way too high for him to be requesting your name for anything too serious. And still, you looked up at him as you finally edged your way to the very end of the red booth. “Did you fart?!”

The rest of the guys started chuckling with him, and you couldn’t help but join in as you went to punch his scrawny chest. “Shut the fuck up, you fucker.”

Danny whooped, beating a fist in the air. He started leading the way out of the bar. As you all followed, he turned to catch your eye briefly. “Y/n. . . coming in with some nasty ass insults tonight,” he laughed. “You’re killing it, Baby Dragon.”

“Haven't heard that one for a hot damn second,” Josh remarked, right behind Danny, waiting to hold the door open for you, Jake, and Sam. “Baby Dragon.”

Jake looked at you and Sam curiously, wanting an in on the nickname. 

“Baby Dragon?” He questioned, taking the door from Josh to let you into the dark night, under his lifted arm. 

“Game of Thrones,” was Sammy’s explanation, as he started teetering on his feet, balancing himself on the ledge of the sidewalk to keep himself busy. “Baby dragons.”

You could tell he was still wondering why, so you tried to extend Sam’s drunken response with your own woozy one. “I’m a baby dragon.”

Well, that made no damn sense, you thought, giggling to yourself.

The guys started busting up laughing, Jake still dipping his eyebrows in at you, a smile playing on his full lips. He was watching your every motion, continuing as you looped your arm with Sammy, trying to balance with him.

Josh continued, more lucid than either of you. “We watched Game of Thrones week after week at our apartment for about a year. . . binged it together,” he nodded his head toward you, smirking. “One of y/n’s favorite ways to bond is with a good television show. And she had been dying for us to watch it with her. So, we did.”

The curly headed twin then laughed at you and Sammy as you both nearly fell, making the same ridiculous sound as you almost went down. Sam thankfully recovered in time, even with his feet slippery in his Birkenstocks. He held you close to him. It made you laugh even harder as he playfully checked you for bumps and bruises. 

“We deemed her Baby Dragon,” Danny finished.  

Jake nodded, but he still wanted more information, looking left out. You also noticed him looking as though he’d discovered something. And then it clicked that Josh had exposed a bonding tactic of yours. You slapped your forehead, your reactions still slow, even after your nap, where you had snoozed off the tiniest bit of alcohol. 

“Josh!” You scolded him, way past time. You still made no sense, randomly saying his name— you knew this. 

But, the more Josh looked at you dubiously, you thought you’d leave it at that. You didn’t need to correct him for saying anything. Because, well, it really wasn’t that big of a deal, the more you thought of it. Maybe you were okay with Jake knowing you’d used TV to bond with him. 

In this state, you could plainly admit that you wanted him to know your heart—all of your intentions. And you wanted to tell him all of your desires. . . Show him, even. You were craving him, especially after being so close with him all night. It felt nice. 

You looked up to observe him at that moment, but he was checking his phone, his eyebrows crinkled. He looked up from it, clicking it closed and glancing to the street to see a car rolling up.  

“Your Uber AWAITS!” Sam declared, motioning to the car that had pulled up to the curb, the black and white Uber sign in the corner of the window to confirm his words. 

“Jake, you need to get a damn car,” Josh noted, opening the back door for you. “I’m tired of being your chauffeur. And Uber is going to get tired of you soon, too,” He caught your eye and winked, nodding over to your roommate. “Y/n, I’m thinking it’s your turn to cart Jake around everywhere he goes.”

You approached the nice little silver car, rolling your eyes at Josh, but still giving him a hug as you came up next to him. “Love you, Joshy,” you leaned in, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“I’m not taking any car advice from you, Mister Clunkerfuck,” he commented plainly. It made you burst out with laughter. “Your car is on its last fuckin’ leg. It’s going to break down on you at the worst possible moment and I’m not going to feel bad. I think you’re the one who needs to get a car—a new one.”

Sam started drunkenly singing a track you hadn’t heard that included the lyrics ‘you’re the one’. His actions were dramatic, only Danny paid him any mind, starting to sing with him, being just as goofy. 

You were still thinking of what Jake had said. It was exactly how you thought of Josh’s car.

“Clunkerfuck,” you smiled in Jake’s direction. Though, when you caught his eye, he looked a little downcast, you just couldn’t pin why. Maybe you were seeing it, all dazed out. “Good one, Jakey.”

Jakey? It did register in time that you’d called him that, and you were instantly embarrassed by your nickname for him. Too far. So, you hurriedly got in the car, your cheeks flushing as you haphazardly yelled goodbyes to the other guys. 

“Nighty night, Baby Dragon,” Josh had said with a laugh, calling you the nickname once more, closing the door behind you. You’d honestly forgotten about the nickname. . .it had been so long since they’d used it. 

Before you knew it, Jake was scooting into the passenger seat to offer an address to the driver. 

He doesn’t want to sit next to me? You thought, sadly. But he chose to be close to me the rest of the night. . . Why not now?

You tried not to look too disappointed on the outside as he was back to ignoring you for the twenty minute drive back to your place. He paid you no mind, and didn’t even care to check on you like he had all night, on the ride back. 

You weren’t able to give it much thought as you looked at the GPS and reasoned you could get a good nap in on the way home. Drinking always made you feel so tired. 

You laid your head against the cooled window next to you. Jake’s naturally husky (fucking sexy) tone as he spoke to the driver, was the last thing you heard semi-coherently. 

You let the car sway you to sleep for the last 10-ish minutes of the drive back, only one handsome man, with long hair and a voice that dripped of sex, waiting behind your lids as they closed. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You were still feeling loopy as Jake helped you up the stairs to the apartment. 

You’d had way too much to drink. You needed sleep. 

Once you entered the apartment, it was so quiet and dark. . .you needed light. So, you felt against the wall to switch the light on. But, you instantly regretted it, covering your eyes with both hands. 

“My eyes!” You yelped, way too dramatically. And when you peeked through your fingers, you saw Jake stooped down, next to Stevie’s dish, giving her a scoop of food. She nudged her little gray head against his hand. Your heart squeezed at the sight. But it was still too bright. “My eyes!”

With two hands still covering your eyes, you sauntered, on unsteady foot in front of the other, back towards the switch you’d used to flip the lights on. 

But before you could get to the switch, you knocked into a chair, sending you back onto your ass. Yet again, dramatically.

“Ow!” You moved a hand from your eyes to massage your sore butt, and as you did, you saw Jake moving to switch the lights off. You were once again cloaked in darkness, but he turned the lamp on closest to him. You sighed, your ass not hurting as much as you’d imagined it had. Now you only cared about the lights, how perfectly dimmed the room was. “Ahhh. . .Much better.”

Your lids were drooping again, and you were not looking forward to getting back up on wobbly feet to make the trek to your bedroom. 

Deciding the floor was a comfy enough bed for the night, you laid back, curling onto your side, your hands under your left cheek to make a pillow. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

Her eyes slid closed. I watched her, a small grin on my face. So adorable. 

But, she was so gone. I felt bad appreciating her being so cute while she was so incoherent. 

So instead of taking advantage, I’d taken it upon myself to watch over her and make sure she was alright all night. I kept my drinking to a minimum so I could keep a careful eye on her.

We’d spent the whole night together, enjoying each other’s company (even if she had been slightly—very—drunk). It’d felt so right. 

My heart had beat at being like that with her in a similar way it did when we’d watch New Girl together. But, it was different tonight. Instead of only sitting on a couch, we’d been together, walking around, playing, her willingly (albeit drunkenly) falling asleep on my shoulder, a smooth leg draped over mine (holy fuck, by the way). 

We hadn’t really gotten the chance to talk a whole lot, thanks to my brothers demanding our attention. The only talking we had partaken in had been very little. And it’d only been about what she’d thought of the set, little questions she had for me. We’d mostly just taken time to be next to each other. 

For me, it’d felt like coming back home.

I had just watched her as she watched the game on a TV in front of us (didn’t peg her as a girl who liked sports, but whatever), occasionally looking over at me to share a secret smile, making my skin hot with want for her. 

I’d hoped, sitting there on those barstools, that she’d felt it with me—the whole cheesy ass ‘coming home’ thing. 

But then, having to stand there and watch her kiss Josh on the cheek at the end of the night . . .that had been a kick in the fuckin’ ass. I’d literally felt my heart sink in my chest as I watched them, their respective energies feeding off of the other so well. . . they were practically one. 

He’d even helped her into the car, once again calling her that ‘baby dragon’ thing that I couldn’t understand at all. I couldn’t understand her the way he could—the way all of the guys could. I hadn’t been around to get to know her with the rest of them. I wasn’t in sync with her like they were—like Josh was. 

I was late to the game. Probably too late. 

Though, when we got home, I still wanted to help her with a few small things . . . It was impossible for me not to try and help her (even if she didn’t fit as well with me as she did my brother).

And at this moment, I could tell that she was going to let herself sleep on the floor. 

But I wasn’t going to let that happen. 

Bending down next to her beautiful body, I couldn’t help but bite my lip when I saw her round ass peeking out from the bottom of her shorts. She was filled out in all of the right places—an absolute fucking masterpiece. 

Then I heard a little whimper in her sleep. A sigh, as she probably started slipping into dreamland. I felt my dick harden just the slightest bit when I thought of hearing those same whimpers through the walls. . . how she’d said my name in her sleep a few times — moaned it, even. . . Off in her dreams where I could have only hoped to meet her.

I’d spent many mornings so sexually fucking frustrated with how close, yet so far she was. So many times—I was there, right next door to her as my name would slip from her lips. And with only a thin wall between us, I’d jerked my cock into a hand I’d imagined was her sweet pussy, having to bite my lip to keep from saying her name.

Fuck. I palmed at my crotch, willing my dick to soften. Now was not the time.

I touched her shoulder, nudging her a bit. “Y/n. . .come on, wake up. You don’t wanna sleep on the floor.”

She sighed again, “Yes, I do,” she retorted. 

And then she moaned as she snuggled further into the carpet. Her moan. Fuck. She was like a damn good drug. 

“No, you don’t,” I scooped my hands under her back, ready to carry her to bed. “I’ll carry you if you don’t move yourself. Come on.”

I saw her lids flutter, eyes still closed. A little smirk graced her features. “Carry me, Jakey,” she mused. 

There she was using that nickname for me again, I thought. It sounded so much better, sweeter coming from her lips than I’d ever heard it.

And when I let both of my hands totally slip under her, scooping her into my arms, and against my chest, her eyes blinked open, still slightly hooded. Her eyebrows curved in, the look she was giving me telling me she hadn’t believed I would do it. 

She wiggled, arguing. “Jake. You don’t have to,” wiggle. “Carry,” wiggle. “Me.”

I gripped her a bit tighter, but did give her a chance to climb out of my arms. “I’ll let you walk if you want to,” I continued, letting my guard down with my next words. “But I really like being this close to you. . .feeling you against me.”

When she looked at me again, it was as if she’d totally sobered at what I’d said (even though I knew better). Her eyes were inquiring, but so full of an emotion I couldn’t fully place in that moment. All I knew was her unnamed emotion somehow perfectly matched the thrum of my heart in my chest. 

“Me too.”

And then she looped her arms around my neck, bringing my face down to meet hers, just as we’d made it to her room. 

I couldn’t help it. I let myself give in to her apparent want in that moment, and met her lips with mine. 

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

As Jake carried you further into your room, to your bed, you never let your lips leave his. Even as he laid you down on your bed, you kept kissing him.

Yes, you thought. This. This is what I needed. I needed him.

You knew you weren’t totally sober, but when he’d said what he did about liking the feeling of being close to you. . . it had made your heart leap into your throat with joy. Because you’d been hoping he still felt like that. You’d been hoping so hard to hear words like that, that it had kind of snapped you from your drunken daze. 

And having him on top of you, laying his body between your legs that naturally opened to make room for him. . .the feeling was divine.

Having Jake with you, it was more than the alcohol that still lingered in your system. You wished you hadn’t let yourself get so wasted tonight, wished you'd have taken him coming closer to you as a sign to not make tonight ‘like old times’. You realized that you wanted it to be new times—times where Jake was here. Things were different with him around. 

And now that you were so far away from the beginnings of him living with you, seeing him show bits of himself, outside of his shroud, throughout June. . . knowing what his lips tasted like—you could admit that having him around was a good type of different. 

Your mouth opened, needing his tongue to meet yours. As soon as it entered your mouth, you sucked on it, loving the taste, the feeling of it, safe in your mouth. 

Needing to be closer to him, you leaned up the slightest bit. You had to feel your skin against his. Closer, closer.

You separated your mouth from his, your lips wet, probably looking just like his: swollen and pink. 

His eyes were dark, lids hooded, encouraging you. You tugged at his shirt, and he got the idea. Thanks to not buttoning his shirts all the way, he was able to slip his short sleeve floral button down over his head. As he did that, you reached around the hem of your old T-shirt, taking it off. 

But before you could throw it to the side, he reached a hand out to grab it, turning the front of it to face you. The members of Cream, staring at you from the splotch of white on black material.

“Does it get you off?” He questioned, an eyebrow raised. “Turning me on with these little outfits you wear to the shows?” 

You smirked, your eyes hazing with want for him. He’d liked your choice of shirt. It hadn’t irritated him. You had made progress. You weren’t at square one anymore. Thank God.

“You liked it?” You rhetorically asked. “You were all I thought about when I put it on.”

His eyes glazed over, just like your own. He liked that.

He huffed, his mouth forming a grin before leaning down to nip at your lips, throwing the shirt to the side. His hands found your thighs, lifting them around his hips. He sucked your bottom lip, moving his tongue to lick into your mouth, his mouth following yours as you melted into the feeling, needing more. 

You pushed him away again, using the time he was leaned back to take your shorts off. He helped you so you didn’t have to awkwardly wriggle out of them. You flashed your eyes at him, smiling with them. 

Then once they were gone, you sat up fully, legs falling from around his hips, to help him. You messed with the button of his jeans. 

He placed his hand over yours, stopping you. You looked up to question him. And as you did, he was already laying you back down, honed in on the sight of your chest that hadn’t stopped heaving since you’d kissed him. 

“Did you think of me when you put this on?” He pulled at the strap of your bra- the same bralette you’d had on the night you’d first kissed. His eyes looked down at the rest of your body, palms running smoothly up your thighs, and over the curves of your hips, giving them a firm squeeze that made you thrust up towards him. His eyes found yours, completely dark. “Don’t start with that.”

Okay, I will, you thought, ready to tease him.

You moved a leg to be between both of his, bending it at the knee, causing it to rub against his crotch ever so slightly, then you brought it back down to lay beside your other leg, looking up at him, eyes innocent. 

“Oops,” you smirked, watching his own lips quirk. 

But as soon as his mouth lifted, it fell into a frown. His eyes squeezed shut, brows drew in, his jaw suddenly set as he ground his teeth. . . 

He looked . . . Frustrated? 

He started shaking his head and quickly grabbed his shirt, going to get off the bed. 

What the fuck?

It made you sit up again, like you had minutes before, but out of alarm this time. 

“Jake?” You worriedly asked, getting off your bed to follow him, clothes be damned. 

He didn’t respond, only grumbled something under his breath. You couldn’t understand him and you were wondering what in the hell was going on. 

As you followed him out of your room and a few steps to his room at the end of the hallway, you grabbed his arm before he could open the door to his room. 

“What’s going on? Are you—?.”

He roughly shook your hand off of his arm.

“Y/n. Go to bed,” he gruffly said, his next words made your throat tighten up even more than his initial tone. “It was a fucking mistake and you need to leave me alone. Go to bed.”

Your mind was suddenly on high alert, ignoring any kind of lingering effects of alcohol, you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

What the fuck was his fucking problem? 

A mistake? That's what you were?

“Jake. . .,” you went to grab his arm again, but he turned before you could, facing you. His eyes were stern, dark with anger. It stunned you, so opposite of how he’d been all night. You continued on, not letting his reaction to you, deter you, “You don’t. . .,” swallow the tears, y/n. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he confirmed. Your chest tightened, you took a step back. “We can’t keep—just go to bed. Leave me alone.”

Your sadness quickly turned to bitterness. . . spitefulness. All of a sudden, you were extremely aware of your state of undress. You felt completely embarrassed from the rejection. You covered your body the best you could. 

“Fine,” you turned quickly on your heel, needing to get away from him and back to the safety of your bedroom. You were suddenly feeling anxious, upset, and ready to recluse. “Good-fucking-night, Jake. I’ll give you what you want. I’ll leave you the fuck alone.”

“Wait, y/n,” you heard his voice behind you.

But you ignored him, gave him a taste of his own medicine. 

Asshole. Fucking asshole. How could someone change so quickly? Be two different people in the span of minutes-time? He had just been telling you how he liked being close to you, he’d barely left you all night. . . Even approached you at the bar, for seemingly no reason but to simply be with you. 

But now? Now you were a mistake.

Fuck him.

“Y/n. . .please, I’m just—.”

Sharply, you spun to face him once you’d made it to your bedroom. You cut him off. “Fuck you, Jake.” 

You let your emotions reflect with an icy glare in his direction. 

Just before you shut the door to your room, you saw his face, completely crestfallen.

When you got back into bed, you curled up into yourself, and angry tears were your sad lullaby to get to sleep. You tried to be quiet enough so he wouldn’t possibly hear you. 

You’d had enough embarrassment for one night and you didn’t want to give him any more reason to judge you, be angry with you, or worst of all—pity you.

As you fell asleep that night, you couldn’t help but think that his sorrowful expression had matched exactly how you felt. Had he been sad? What gave him the right to be sad when he’d cut it off? Called it a mistake?

You worked to push him as far from your mind as you possibly could. You didn’t want to think of him.

He was impossible to understand. As soon as you thought you had an idea of the man, he changed, confusing the hell out of you. 

You tossed and turned, wondering why you still so desperately wanted to understand him. Why did it still matter? He shouldn’t matter. 

When you finally faded to a restless sleep,  you made the decision that you were going to try your hardest to not give a fucking damn about your roommate. 

You apparently weren’t worth his time, so he shouldn’t be worth yours.

You’d meant what you told him. 

Fuck Jake Kiszka.

-🌼🌼🌼-

As the week faded into the next, you’d made it your personal mission to make it perfectly clear to him that you were not giving him any of your time or attention. 

You used one of his earlier tactics and didn’t come out for anything except to eat, shower, go to work, go to class. You tried to avoid seeing him when you knew he was home, so thankful for the work schedules that still got posted on the fridge. 

He now had the additional schedule which showed when they had performances or practices, giving you a couple nights within that week to laze around the apartment with no worries of running into him. 

Occasionally, he tried to stop you to talk to you as you would pass each other. But you weren’t having it. You would cut him off with a wave, a short ‘no’ or a curt ‘goodbye’ as you left the apartment to do your own thing. 

You wanted to make it clear that you were done with whatever the hell you two had been dancing around for the past month. What he didn’t need to know was that you were mostly doing it to convince yourself that you were done with it. 

In the moments he tried to stop you, you would just get hurt all over again that he seemed to be so desperate to beat the dead fucking horse—explain his hateful words. That was all he could possibly want. What else?

And you didn’t want that.

Why did he seem so intent on stopping you to just explain what a mistake being with you had been?

Drawing a line was imperative.

You had to convince yourself that you didn’t still want him and that you didn’t have several passing thoughts of him throughout your days. 

It was much harder than you’d anticipated. Being your roommate, he was still everywhere you turned. No matter how hard you tried to escape him, he was there. In your shared home, in your thoughts, in conversations with Josh. . .

And in your fucking dreams. 

Several days during that blessed week of ignoring him, you woke up in a sweat wanting only him. Your body was calling out to be touched by him. 

And then you had the weak moments. The ones when you’d accidentally run into him, and you wanted to let your guard down, let him know you were hurting more than anything. You wanted to talk to him— wanted to know where he stood. 

But every time, you'd bit your tongue to stop yourself.

He’d said it himself—you were a mistake. 

So, that’s why you never gave in to the temptation to let him talk, or let him know your own feelings about it all. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Classes were a great distraction from what was going on in your heart and home.

Being able to dedicate your time to something completely unrelated to your roommate was exactly what you needed.

Spending more time on things like class work meant less time to think about Jake.

Though, it wasn’t necessarily doing what your family had intended it to. They’d wanted you to take a summer class to get your mind focused back on writing, use the class as a chance to get your passion for writing back.

But just as it had been before the summer class, your love—your passion for writing just wasn’t there anymore.

For some reason, when Jake had come into your life, it'd helped you realize for the first time in years, just how important music was to you. He brought out this spark that had faded. Being able to be around someone so often who was on the same page when it came to a passion for the art of music—it had done something impeccable for you. 

(He’d done it unintentionally—unknowingly—, of course, as he’d hated your guts when you’d started feeling that incredible pull towards music again.) 

And then there was the day in your summer class that pieces started clicking in your head. Slight identity crisis, if you may.

It had come to you when you’d been prompted to discuss and write about inspirations for pursuing writing. And in that moment, you’d realized you couldn’t think of any other reason you’d pursued your degree save for you wanting to be just like Elsie. (And the added bonus of your grandfather encouraging against a pursuit in a musical degree- at all costs.)

You’d set your sights on Elsie years ago as your number one role model. Your mother had left you with only your older sister to inspire you. Elsie loved writing, so in turn, you’d decided that you would also love writing. 

It was her dream. And, unfortunately, you were only just now realizing that maybe it wasn’t fully yours, as you embarked on your senior year of college. 

Terrible timing for Jake to enter your life and bring out that flame you’d always had for music. 

Another strange thing that had come along with Jake entering the picture were thoughts of your mother. More than you’d ever really had before. 

Thanks to Elsie having to use your forgotten past to help you have a better understanding  of Jake, your mom had been in more thoughts than you were comfortable with as of late. 

You hated thinking of her. But after that conversation, every time you saw a child with his or her mother, you had this giant burst of longing in your heart that you couldn’t put a name to.

It was truly odd, but the sight brought you this sense of impending healing. 

Were you finally on a path to figuring out who you truly were in the aftermath of her leaving?

You had no clue what the pull on your heart meant. 

All you knew was, there were a lot of changing feelings that were quite different than anything you’d felt in the past several years of your life. In those many years since your mother had left you broken on the porch step at ten years old—you’d simply gone about everything in life in a sort of monotone style. 

Rather than thinking with your heart, you’d just followed a gray wave. You’d never taken a real initiative to understand yourself. The waves of life had carried you, and you’d let them, willingly. 

It had been easier—more comfortable— than actually taking time to think about yourself and what you wanted. 

But Jake. . .he’d been the cause of bringing about the most feelings you’d had since your mother left in her blaze of glory. He’d brought out pieces of you that you hadn’t come in contact with since you were ten years old and vulnerable, screaming and crying for your mom to come back as she left you, broken.

But with the feelings this time, it truly felt more like a yearning to be more. You felt this sense of understanding for yourself that you hadn’t ever had before.

In some backwards way, he was helping you get to know these pieces of yourself you’d kept in the dark for far too long. Pieces that needed time, attention, and love. 

It was fucking weird. 

You didn’t understand the anatomy of it all. 

But you desperately wanted to learn more about these parts of yourself you were discovering.  

-🌼🌼🌼-

In order to push through the class (and your degree), you decided it was a good idea to pair up with a study buddy. 

You needed someone to help motivate you to keep going—finish with a skip in your step, rather than falling into a pitiful slump. 

It’s why you decided to ask Theo to be that person after class one day.

Surely that was a reason he’d floated back into your life. Help you stay motivated to get this degree. You didn’t know. 

And maybe it could be more. . .he would end up assisting to help you get your mind away from Jake. You didn’t need to be distracted by your roommate. 

Everything happens for a reason, after all. And maybe these were Theo’s reasons in your life.

He’d agreed with no hesitation, which had made a giant smile plaster to your face. 

But why, when you were leaving class, had you felt as though something had fallen to the bottom of your gut? 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Fiction or non?” 

You were splayed out on your bedroom floor, with Theo across from you. As he’d pored over his textbook, he kept coming up with questions to ask you. 

Sure, it might be cute and endearing in a normal circumstance. But right now, you wanted to focus on studying for a couple of upcoming tests, as summer semesters were the worst at moving so damn quickly. 

There were more important matters at hand than nonsensical small talk. 

Deciding to humor him (and hopefully get back to the task at hand), you responded. “Hmm. . .,” you sat up from where you’d been laying on your stomach to read about Geoffrey Chaucer. “They both have special things about them—both stretch our minds to understand more about other worlds and our own,” you paused, giving it a second to ponder. “Are we talking writing-wise or reading-wise?”

He chuckled, and winked at you. “It doesn’t have to be something you think so deeply about,” he closed his textbook. What was he doing? You still had to make flash cards! “Pretend we’re playing a game and it’s rapid fire questions.”

You didn’t want to be playing a game. You wanted to be sinking your teeth into the intricacies of this author in order to ace your test. 

You shook your head, your eyes stuck on his closed book. “Fuck,” you scratched your eyebrow. Your mind flicked to music: fun to write and read about. You were actually currently reading a book about John Lennon. You had many books on your TBR list about famous musicians. A most intriguing subject, in your opinion. “Non-fiction.”

His face scrunched up. “Nah,” he disagreed. “Fiction.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” his stare was blank in response. “Don’t really have to think too hard about it.”

You tried not to roll your eyes at him. In your opinion, thinking hard about what you were writing or reading was what made it most desirable. It made you venture into undiscovered realms of your mind. 

When you went to lean back over your book, the movement made you realize just how badly your bladder was begging to be released. 

Stupidly, you thought of the ridiculous work schedule on the fridge. 

Why the hell couldn’t you just let yourself go to the damn bathroom without thinking about Jake? You knew it was fucking ludicrous. You just didn’t want to see him. When you pulled up the picture of the fridge on your phone, you saw you were in the clear. He should still be at band rehearsal. 

You tapped your open book, giving Theo a sign that he needed to open his back up. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick,” you stood up, the wave of having to pee rushing through you tenfold at the motion. He still hadn’t gotten the hint to open up his textbook. Ugh. “I’ll be back soon and then we will make our cards for the test.”

And as you exited the room, you saw him finally get back to business and open his book back up.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You dried your hands on the towel next to the sink, and took a look at yourself in the mirror.

He sort of annoyed you, but Theo was still cute, and he’d made you happy in high school. You weren’t totally opposed to the idea of kissing him (or maybe more) by the end of the night.

It seemed to you to be another good plan to get your mind off of Jake.

And Theo seemed interested enough. Considering he’d been more interested in learning about you, rather than the material for class all night (irritating, but whatever). 

Deciding you looked good enough to return, you opened the door to go back. And as you went to walk out, you stopped at a chest in your way. You got dizzy at the smell—smelled so fucking good—familiar. . .

You looked up.

Jake.

Your eyebrows pinched together, not happy at all that you’d crossed paths. Fucking hell. Why wasn’t he. . .?

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like thi—.”

You held a hand up to silence him, crossing your arms. “Why aren’t you at band practice?” 

Why the fuck was he cracking jokes? You were not in the mood. 

“Ended early,” his face hardened when he shrugged, stating it plainly. 

“Why didn’t you just stay with the guys?” You asked, secretly glad he didn’t. For whatever reason. “You could have hung out with them instead of coming back here.”

“Oh,” he stuck his chin out at the word and leaned a shoulder against the door-hinge. He raised a brow and crossed his arms to mirror you. “I see.”

You definitely didn’t glance at how his bicep flexed as his fingers wrapped around it. And you didn’t take time to appreciate his beautiful hair. . . had it started getting slightly longer? 

You shook your head, retraining your eyes.

“Tell me, Jake, what do you see?” You snapped, flicking your eyes up to his.

He scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Saw that guy lying on your bedroom floor, waiting for you. He was even sweet enough to wave at me when he saw me pass your room,” he sarcastically remarked, waving his hand to mimic. 

“We’re just studying,” you hushed back, feeling the (unnecessary) need to reassure him.

He scoffed. “You think that’s all it is to him?”

You narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips before you pulled him by his T-shirt into the bathroom. You weren’t going to discuss this in a place Theo could possibly hear. 

“I know that’s all it is,” you released his shirt like you were repulsed by the touch, when in reality you wanted nothing more than to pull it completely off of him. Damn him. "Why does it matter?"

“It doesn’t. Just think it’s funny how you’re so naive to believe he doesn’t want more.”

“He doesn’t.” 

“Do you?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I just think it’s also a little funny that you might want me out just so you can fuck that guy in your bedroom,” he nodded his head in the direction of your room. 

Oh. He was taking it there. Okay.

“Yeah? And if I wanted to?” You jutted your chin out the slightest bit, bringing your arms closer, to press against your chest. “How is it any of your damn business?” 

He stepped once towards you, eyeing your chest, the tops of your breasts revealed, pushed up to the top of your tank. Your skin flushed, heart racing. 

His voice lowered. “It became my business the night you spread your legs for me at Baby’s,” one more step towards you, his eyes locking with yours. Fuck. “When I had you moaning my name while my mouth played between your pretty legs,” another step. “I think you gave yourself away that night. I don’t buy this little act.”

Oh. 

Fuck. . . If your heart wasn’t racing. 

You blinked, shaking your head. You tried to stand firm. “Wh-what act?” Dammit. Why were you stuttering? 

Stand your ground, y/n, you thought, motivating yourself to stay strong. 

But as he took one more step in, your body was effectively once again trapped between his body and a sink. Thankfully, he hadn’t pressed himself up to your front, so you weren’t distracted by that. 

You tried to hold your own.

But shit. . .he was so close. Your skin flared with heat, your heart still beating erratically in your chest. 

As you were making direct eye contact with the chest of his white t-shirt, you craned your neck to see his face fully.

“What act, Jacob?” 

He shook his head. A little smirk played at his mouth. He brought his hand up to hold your cheek. Your skin was on fire for him and his touch.

You couldn’t help it when you leaned into his hand, letting your cheek press into his calloused flesh. 

He licked his lips. “You tell me,” he whispered lowly, nodding his head once at you. 

And you couldn’t help it, his deep brown eyes pulled you in. He was begging to be touched. You had to feel him. 

Leaning in, you held his cheek just as he held yours. He then took the chance, and captured your lips with his.

Ah. His lips. So soft. 

Your vision was hazy, eyes still open, you saw how his eyebrows dipped in with a moan. You matched the sound, closing your eyes, and slipped your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his. 

You heard him shut the door with the hand that wasn’t holding your face. 

He then moved that hand from your face, reaching both hands under your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he lifted you the short distance to sit on the bathroom countertop. 

You bit his bottom lip, getting another small moan from him. He did the same to you and then soothed the spot with his tongue. You sighed into his mouth. 

Reaching both hands up, you sunk them into his dark, brunette locks. He matched every movement of your lips with his own, and then licked one wet stripe on the roof of your mouth. 

You were able to gasp for air when he moved his mouth from yours to give the softest, small kisses to your neck. Though it didn’t last long before he turned his pecks into wet, open-mouthed kisses. The slightest stubble of hair on his lip skimmed against your sensitive skin. He worked from under your jaw, all the way up, to the tender spot behind your ear. 

Shivering with a sigh, you gripped his hair tighter, pulling him in as close as he could be to you, on the counter. You felt his hardening length against your center when you did so, making you immediately grind into him. 

And when he did the same to the other side of your neck, this time, he nipped at the skin behind your ear. You bucked your hips into his. He released a groan that echoed through the small bathroom, making you want to melt into it. 

“More,” you breathed, clutching him closer, making sure the front of you stayed connected to him. Feeling his hard length through the material of his jeans was almost too much, but you craved it. You needed it. 

More.

But, the next moment, you heard a little cough from your bedroom, right next door. 

It snapped you from your daze. You were suddenly hyper aware that it was not just you two in the apartment. You had to stop.

You pushed him back, jumping off the counter. When you looked in the mirror to check your face and neck, your lips were swollen and your cheeks were flushed. Your neck was still pink from where he’d been. You checked where he’d bit behind your ear, and seeing the redness back there made you want to hop right back onto that counter. Let him have his way with you— right there. Theo be fucking damned.

But you knew better.

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you tried to make yourself look slightly presentable. 

From behind you, he was brushing a hand through his hair, when he went to smooth a hand over his cheeks, his jaw stretching with the motion. He was contemplative.

His eyebrows drew together, curious. You couldn’t tell if he was upset. He mostly looked . . .confused. 

He removed his hand from his face when his eyes found yours in the mirror, open and wondering. He looked desperate to understand. 

“What do you want, y/n?” 

You didn’t know what in the hell to tell him. 

You wanted Jake. And you wanted him bad. But somehow saying it out loud seemed too difficult at the moment. 

And how could you say that to him when he’d so recently, blatantly told you that you were a mistake?

“I don’t know, Jake,” you whispered back, still looking at your blushing cheeks, messy hair, and freshly kissed lips. You’d need a minute to let your skin return to its normal shade before going back to your room. 

You turned to face him.

When you saw him, looking so beautiful, so lost. . . You thought of how lost you’d felt for the past couple weeks. His words were once again flashing back through your head. 

“It was a fucking mistake and you need to leave me alone.”

It still hurt as you could see him so clearly in the doorway of his bedroom, angry and insistent that you do what he said and leave him alone.

But tonight? Crowding you in here to make out on the bathroom counter? Did he truly want that? For you to leave him alone?

“What do you want?” You leveled him with a stare, your tone sharp, but keeping your voice low since Theo was one room over. You pointed a finger in his chest. “You say you want me to leave you alone, but then you trap me in here like this?”

He shook his head, a dimple showing again with a sarcastic grin. After tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, he put the same hand in his pocket. 

“Oh, there is no way you are going to turn this around on me,” he matched your quiet tone, understanding. “And trap you? Okay, Little Miss ‘Fuck Me, Jake,’” he used air quotes to remind you of your words from the night at Baby’s. 

Fuck. 

Of course he remembered you’d said that. Why wouldn’t he? 

You decided to ignore it, focusing back on him.

“You’re the one who said it was a mistake! That I needed to leave you alone,” you protested, anger flaring in your chest.

He covered his eyes with a hand, the veins in the hand catching your eye. You’d never noticed how masculine his hands were. And damn if he didn’t know how to use them . . . Even in this moment, debating with him, you wanted them touching every part of you. You wanted his skilled fingers, flexing inside of you.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” His eyes were sad when he moved his hand, when you saw the brown irises again. But there was a fire behind them still. “Dammit, y/n. Why do you insist on assuming the worst about me all the fucking time? I’m not the one who can’t make up my mind about what I want,” he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms. “One minute you’re kissing me. You’re with me, naked and ready as I’m pressing into you,” his voice was being raspy, along with the picture he was drawing. . . It made your cheeks pink. You could still feel what he felt like, pressing against you, throbbing. . .so close to being inside of you. He went on, “And the next moment you’re shoving me away from you, making sure to tell me that Josh doesn’t need to know what we’re doing.”

Of course some of this had to do with Josh. You’d had the smallest inkling, based on how weird he’d acted when you set the rules. 

Stupid.

“I knew you were making it all weird with Josh. . . is this all about Josh?! You know that he and I—.”

“No! It’s about you and how you make it impossible for us to—.”

“You told me to go away!”

“And you told me to stop,” he said back, his smoky voice still hushed. “More than once.”

Your chest heaved, knowing he was right, but you were so lost on how to explain it all. “There were reasons every time.” 

“Reasons,” he scoffed. “So are you going to keep having these reasons? Keep stopping it? Why do you keep letting it happen if all you’re going to do is make us stop?” 

“Last time you stopped us, Jake!” You defended, focusing on keeping your voice low. “Not me. You walked away and called it a mistake.”

He covered his face with both hands, growling. You shushed him. 

He took his hands away to show his jaw set, clenching with frustration. “You were drunk, y/n!” He begged you to understand, “I wasn’t going to do anything with you without you being in full and total control of yourself.”

You were sure your expression showed it all clicking. You blinked at him. It all made so much sense now. 

And what he’d done? His true intentions? Fuck. Sexy as hell.

Maybe you really did need to stop assuming the worst. You just couldn’t help it. It was a trauma response. Jumping to conclusions, thinking that people didn’t want you. . .

Your mom didn’t want you, so you were always convinced other people wouldn’t either. 

Especially men who were as beautiful and mesmerizing as Jake Kiszka.

Damn. Now it really was all on you. How did you even begin to lay it all out? 

You looked him dead in the face, completely unsure of how to articulate the mess in your head. 

“I don’t know,” you covered your face with both hands, mimicking him and frustratedly groaning into your palms. When you removed them from your face, you tucked them into your front pockets. You decided to assure him of one thing. For whatever reason, you wanted—needed him to know this. “I do want you. I want what we almost had in the bathroom at Baby’s,” You stepped towards him, wanting to be close to him again. You placed a delicate hand on his chest. He looked down at you, as you looked up into his eyes, reaching to hold your hand on his chest. Your skin tingled at his touch. “I need to feel you, to be with you. . . it just never seems like the right time. There’s always something.”

You didn’t know why you’d suddenly felt the urge to be vulnerable with him. He kept your hand on his chest, holding you, his eyes meeting yours in understanding. 

And you knew then that it was just him. Jake Kiszka, in and of himself, made you feel this strange sense of safety, comfortability. 

And it was different from the kind his twin had offered you as your friend for so many years. 

With Jake, you weren’t just friends. You weren’t even really friends. . .it was something else—an intense, unavoidable attraction. The safe feeling came combined with this desire to be with him. 

He felt like a resting ground. 

It was weird.

But you liked it.

He smoothed a thumb over your hand on his chest. You held his deep gaze, getting lost in it. 

And out of nowhere, he leaned down, kissing your lips with his. Just for a moment. 

You felt it all the way down to your toes. The feeling of him so close, with one simple kiss from his soft lips, it felt perfectly intimate. 

He released his hold on your hand, wrapping his hand around your waist instead, eyes connected with yours. It was as though he just wanted to touch you, have his hands on you.

It was what you wanted, too. Just the feeling of his hand, as it moved down to just over your hip, his thumb on the skin underneath the hem of your gray tank top. . .it felt right. 

He penetrated the thickness in the air with his low, gravelly tone. His eyes were vulnerable as he asked, “Do you want that? To find the right time?” 

You reached a hand up, holding his handsome face. You smoothed a thumb over his skin, tracing a freckle on his cheek. “I do. I promise I do,” you blinked up at him, needing his answer to that question. “And do you? Wanna find the right time?”

This was so much, butterflies flew rampant in your tummy. 

The grin he gave you was loose, his eyes relieved and open. “I really do.”

It felt so amazing to hear it straight from his lips. He really wanted it too. 

You’d overthink all of this later.

He leaned down to kiss you again. You reciprocated, for just a moment, letting your lips move with his. 

Then you pulled back, your hand falling from his face.

You nodded at the door. “I gotta get back to studying.”

His hand that was holding your hip squeezed slightly, your skin heating at it. You caught his eye, the intense feeling setting in your beating heart. 

“Is that all you’re doing?” His eyes were dark and questioning, making your head spin. “Studying?”

You winked at him, still holding onto your teasing from earlier. “It’s whatever I want it to be.”

His eyes seemed to darken more, pulling you in so your chest touched his. So warm. “I really don’t want to hear another guy fucking you through these walls.”

You pressed closer to him, your body thrumming with fire. “Funny coming from the guy who told me I could just wear earplugs when he brought women over,” then you pulled back, his hand fell. His eyebrow lifted, a tiny smirk lifted his lips. You continued, “Why don’t you go ahead and get a pair of your own, hm?”

You patted his cheek, reluctantly parting from him. Before leaving the bathroom, you chanced one more glance at your appearance. Not quite as flushed as before, though your cheeks were still blushing. You’d find a way to pass it off. Whatever. You’d been gone too long. 

You were about to open the bathroom door when, from behind, his voice stopped you. You felt a spark as his hand delicately touched yours.

“Hey.”

You swiveled on your heel, raised your brows in question. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you could come to our gig this weekend? It’s a bigger one.”

Did you work this weekend? You couldn’t remember. 

All you knew was that, suddenly, you really wanted to be at their show. 

“I’m not sure . . . Depends on work.”

“I would love—,” he put a fist in front of his mouth and cleared his throat. “The guys and I would love it if you could be there,” he shook his head, seeming to come to terms with an inner battle. “For me, I would just love to look out and see your beautiful face in the crowd.”

Your mind was fuzzy. All of this felt so unreal, yet so real all at once. He really wanted you there? And had he just called you beautiful? 

“I’ll try my best,” you slapped on a small grin, trying to play hard to get, masking your inner shock. You wanted to keep him on his toes, like he’d kept you for the past weeks. 

He scrunched his brows in and messed with his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, totally get it. Just text me and let me know.”

Anytime he messed with his mouth, it was a distraction. You had to keep yourself from watching too close. It really didn’t help that you knew the feeling of those full, pink lips. . . 

And as you walked the short distance to your bedroom, you realized something else.

Had he just asked you to text him? 

What was all of this? This new territory you had just discovered?

-🌼🌼🌼-

And a couple nights later, when you were sitting on the couch watching New Girl, Jake came to sit at his end of the couch. 

Once you’d finished the episode he’d sat down to watch with you, he cleared his throat, making you look over at him. 

He was already looking at you. It made your stomach flurry. You decided to look back at the TV, nervous under his gaze. 

He spoke, keeping your ear in his direction, you paused the show. “We should start the series over. You know, start at the beginning together.” 

You smirked, feeling a rush of giddy happiness and excitement buzz through you.

“Yeah, sure,” you coolly respond, starting the show from scratch.

And as Jess began the first episode, you peeked quickly over at him, a content smile resting on his lips as he lounged at his end of the sofa.

-🌼🌼🌼-

And for the next few nights, Jake kept coming back. He would sit on the couch with you, simply to watch your show. 

Just to share that quiet time at the end of each day with you.

Whenever he would come to sit down, your nerves would translate to a dizziness of butterflies in your stomach. 

Though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to laugh with him, share popcorn or pizza, look at each other when a character would say something particularly hilarious. . .

But neither of you ever moved to kiss the other. You know . . . make it anything more than two people watching a TV show.

It almost seemed like an unspoken rule that you were not doing that again . . .

. . .yet. 

Both of you, seeming to wait for the right time.

But you sure liked those quiet nights.

These nights with him made your house feel like a home. . . comfortable and safe. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

On Friday night, you got off work a little early.

It was the night before the guys’ show, so Jake obviously wasn’t home due to a last minute rehearsal and details. You'd seen as much on the rehearsal schedule on the fridge.

You took your time showering, shaving, exfoliating, pampering yourself fully, with the apartment to yourself. . .

Once finished, you realized you really wanted to watch New Girl. Even though Jake wasn’t home, you were in the middle of one of your favorite parts of the show. You had to watch the next couple of episodes. 

You’d just rewind to watch again when he was home next. 

You couldn’t help it. The two of you had been binging and you'd come to your favorite part in the whole show. It was arguably the best part—what the audience waits for from practically the first episode. 

Jess and Nick were finally about to bite the bullet, get their shit together and get together. 

And as you sat with a couple slices of warmed up cheese pizza from the night before, cuddled up with Stevie purring against your blanket covered thighs. . .something clicked. 

As they looked at each other throughout the whole episode of “Cooler,” you were angry with them. So angry that they were so close to finally being together, yet so far. . .

“Not like this!” Nick said to Jess, stopping her from kissing him. He suddenly sounded and looked very much like you had felt recently.

He looked desperate to make it the best it could be, get Jess to understand that it had to be just right. They’d waited long enough, and he wanted it to feel like it deserved to. 

You couldn’t stop it when it pulled you right back to your real life. Your current situation. 

And if you were upset with Nick and Jess for piddling around and not just acting on their feelings, not letting loose when it was so obvious they needed to . . . Then why the hell were you dragging it out so damn long with Jake? 

You felt like the two of you were essentially Nick and Jess. You were roommates, with so much building between you—everything and nothing to lose all at once. 

You wanted to act on it. You wanted it all. It was time. 

No, it was past time. 

And as Nick and Jess finally kissed, you decided.

The gig was tomorrow. You were off work early enough to go. . .

You were going to the show, and you weren’t going to stop anything that may happen afterwards this time.

-🌼🌼🌼-

As you left for work the next morning, you noticed a piece of paper sitting on the dining room table with your name on it, along with a sticky attached to it with an address and a little scribbled note underneath. 

Just in case 

-J

Your tummy fluttered. 

You’d been running late, so you hadn’t had time to look at it, tucking it into your bag to look at later.

-🌼🌼🌼-

In the quietness of the record store, you opened it up to find the setlist.

Grinning, you checked it over. Every song on the list were ones you knew. Save for one near the bottom. 

Edge of Darkness.

Suddenly curious about the song, you wondered. . . Was this song the reason he wanted you there?

-🌼🌼🌼-

Due to stupid-ass New York traffic and thinking you’d let Stevie run out of the apartment, only to find her hidden behind clothes in your closet, you were running roughly forty-five minutes late for their gig.

You��d texted Jake to let him know you were running late, but hadn’t received a text back. Momentarily, you’d been afraid of him being upset with you for being late, your stomach falling when he hadn’t responded for the thirty-ish minute drive to the venue after you’d sent it. 

Then, you realized he was on stage performing, so of course he wouldn’t respond. 

Whenever you’d sent the text, your hands had been extremely shaky, checking your text a million times for grammatical errors, even after you’d sent it. It was seriously like a ridiculous high school crush. 

Dumb.

You still believed that if you just fucked him and got it out of your system, some of those juvenile feelings would come to pass. 

As an adult woman, you didn’t need to care so deeply for how a man might respond to you. There was no use for that, and you thought yourself ludicrous for it.

Though, you really did feel terrible as traffic took so long, delaying your arrival to the venue. Your normal road rage came out a few times, honking your horn and cursing as people would drive several miles below the speed limit in front of you. 

You just wanted to get there.

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you did get there, the guys were playing their hearts out as you had to squeeze through a mass of sweaty, singing bodies, alcohol sloshing whenever you’d pass through. 

The establishment had two levels, so you decided to climb some stairs to watch from a higher level, hoping for less of a crowd from that vantage point. 

And when you’d made it up there, you realized it was still crowded. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as below. You found a semi-clear space to claim, a thankfully nice view of all of the guys.

The first thing you noticed when you looked at Josh was his hair. He’d told you recently that he was trying to grow it out on the sides, going for a full head of curling hair. You hadn’t seen him recently enough to see the progress, though, and it looked great on him. 

“All right!” Josh had screamed into the mic, hyping up the packed house, receiving screams from everyone watching. Jake strummed a little note which made you immediately hone in on him, but he seemed irritated, strumming a few more times, shaking his head.

Josh glanced over at his twin, sensing the issue, and he smiled back at the crowd. “How we feeling?!” He raised his hands, eliciting more screams as Jake continued strumming, finally gaining some help from someone in their little backstage crew. The curly headed twin gave Jake another look, but Jake’s back was turned as he worked with the crew member to get the problem figured out. 

Josh walked over to his twin, checking out the problem for himself. They were having the smallest conversation before Jake shook his head at Josh, and then the crew member. He turned around, effectively giving up on the issue. He played another chord, checking, but his brows were still drawn in with irritation.

What was going on? Was he okay? You suddenly had an incredibly impulsive urge to go check on him. But you stood your ground as he felt out a few more notes, shrugging shortly and giving a curt nod to Josh as a go ahead. 

Josh once again smiled so wide it looked like it hurt. You could tell he was trying his hardest to alleviate any sort of tension for the crowd. Fortunately, the crowd seemed oblivious, playing into it as a sort of bit, it seemed.

You took a few seconds to send a text to your sweet, empathetic friend to let him know you were there and that you wanted to get a drink after the show.

You hated seeing him stressed- especially on stage. You were feeling it with him and with Jake.

“How about a new one?” He asked, receiving a plethora of yells and screams. You smiled with the crowd. “This next one is called Edge of Darkness. . .and it’s about. . .the edge of darkness.”

You giggled at him. He was a great frontman. The people were soaking it all up, laughing with him, and screaming for more. 

But you had to check back in on Jake. He seemed to be doing better, still upset, but he smiled tightly to a few screaming girls in front. 

He started playing, his face saying that something was not blending together like you knew he wanted it to. But you couldn’t tell the difference, so you knew the crowd couldn’t, either. 

It didn’t stop him from turning to check the amp a couple more times before suddenly, he was ripping through the most erotic guitar solo you’d ever heard him play live.

Fuck. The song was called the ‘Edge of Darkness’, and it was ironic because you felt like you were on the edge of some kind of dark shit. Watching him manipulate those strings with such precision and intent, his hips fucking (yes, fucking) into his guitar. It was unlike anything else he’d ever done with that guitar. . .you were absolutely sure of it.

You were sweating. And you knew it wasn’t from proximity to any people around you. No, it was from watching him go to this secret place that you wanted to join. 

His facial expressions were driving you insane. All you could imagine was seeing those faces above you as your body replaced the guitar. Bent over, with him fucking into you with the same vigor he was giving his instrument.

Then he threw it behind his fucking head. It got you every. time. He made it look so effortless— so easy for him to balance it there (though you knew it wasn’t), while he still played all of the intricate chords. He was a natural—a true rockstar. 

You wondered what else he was a natural at. 

You were squirming underneath your skin, your palms were clammy and when you moved a bit, you noticed your thong was uncomfortably damp between your legs. And your jeans made it impossible to move to fix the issue. 

These solos of his. . .fuck. They were the sole cause for your sexual frustration after these shows. Why you’d had to replace vibrators in the past month. 

But tonight? Tonight, you wouldn’t need the help of your hand or a tool. No, tonight, you planned on going home with him— to take care of it with his help.

-🌼🌼🌼-

But as you waited out in the bar area after the show, after sending Jake a text on how well he did, you were met with radio silence on his end. 

It sat there, glaring at you in the blue bubble. 

You, 10:43 p.m.: You fuckin killed it. So glad I came.

It had now been several minutes since the show had ended and since you’d sent the message, and looking at the time on your phone, you realized it had now been closer to an hour. 

What was taking them so long? Their crew packed their shit up now . . . so where were they?

You weren’t able to wonder too much longer, hearing Josh’s voice come up right behind you. 

But he didn’t have his usual bounce. He sounded super pissed.

“Your roommate’s a dick,” he sat in the seat at the bar next to you. He ran two hands through his growing hair and then put both of his hands over his face. He sat there like that until the bartender came up, removing them when they asked what he wanted. “Strongest thing you have.”

“Josh?” You tentatively reached a hand out to touch his bare shoulder. He’d worn his little brown vest he loved so much, sans a shirt underneath. “You okay?”

When he looked at you, he looked sorry for how he’d been acting. And he said as much. 

“I’m sorry, y/n. Jake just—,” he put his face into his crossed arms on the bar to growl, then he faced you again. “He’s been in a piss mood all fucking night, and when he’s mad, I feel it all the way down to my bones. I also just get really fed up with his little attitude he gets when something goes wrong. It’s annoying as hell and I get tired of it.”

You could relate—you also hated Jake’s pissant attitude when he was upset over something. Though, in this circumstance, you felt inclined to be the devil’s advocate.

“Josh. . .you also get upset when things go wrong. You’re the biggest perfectionist I know.”

“Apparently you don’t know Jake, then. And you’re one to talk!” He spat. Then he groaned again, his eyes sympathetic when he looked at you. “I’m sorry. I know. I agree with you. I’m sorry. He just. . . seemed off all night and it already bothers me when he’s upset over something and he wasn’t telling me everyth— my twin intuition always knows when he isn’t telling me everything. And tonight he sure as hell had something else on his mind that he refused to give any weight to,” the bartender came up with a shot of something. Josh threw it back, and shook his head, coughing just a bit. His eyes bulged the slightest bit.

You couldn’t help your little laugh at him. He needed that. Take the fucking edge off. “Strong like you wanted?”

He gave you a grin, his eyes easier than they were before. You relaxed, realizing you were absolutely feeling that tension with him. You felt especially better when he waved the server back over to ask for a salty dog. That’s more like it.

“Anyway,” he started, swiveling his body to be facing towards you, one arm on the bar. “Sam and Daniel didn’t even have to be subjected to it. They left to meet up with a couple of their other friends before he exploded on me. Just me! And they don’t get those same inklings from him that I do. Being a twin is both a blessing and a curse. I swear we fuckin’ share a brain sometimes.”

His movements, facing you like this on his barstool, made you think of when Jake had sat next to you like this—the night he’d kept you close, taken you home, and then cut things short. Everything you’d felt that night coming back tenfold. 

 . . . Where was he? It didn’t matter where he was. Really. But you were curious. 

“Where is Jake?” You tried to play it cool, because that’s what you were. Cool. It was nothing. You went ahead and softened the question by complimenting his growing hair. “And I like your hair.”

“Thanks. Biotin vitamins, I swear to God,” he patted the sides of his ‘do, giving you a cheeky smirk. “And Jake—. Thank you,” he said to the bartender, giving her a quick wink as she sat his drink on his coaster. “He went back to your place. Didn’t wanna stay around for a good time. He was not in the mood.”

Your heart sank.

What? He’d gone home?

But he'd asked you to come tonight? Had he gotten your texts? Surely he had. There was no reason he wouldn’t’ve. All of a sudden, you felt extremely stupid for sending them. . .for thinking anymore of tonight than you should have. For worrying about him from the balcony. When he didn’t even care to stay to see you. 

He was the most unpredictable asshole and you were foolish to think, for even a split second, that he wasn’t. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Luckily, Josh was ready to end the night fairly early. 

You were glad because you weren’t in the mood to entertain after having your feelings hurt (stupidly) by Jake leaving and not telling you. It was the smallest thing to be upset over, you knew. Your heart had gotten ahead of you, and into something ridiculous. 

On your drive home, you kept telling yourself that you were done with all Jake related thoughts. You shouldn’t give two shits about the man. Really. He’d been a jerk from day one. And even though he’d had a few instances of being someone so wonderful. . . he kept doing things that just reminded you that maybe he was just incapable of being consistent.

You were worried about what you’d go home to. Afraid of hearing him and a girl from his bedroom, seeing them on your couch. . . You were tired of not being able to keep up with him. It was exhausting. 

And as much as you told yourself he didn’t matter, you knew you were lying to yourself. You’d made him matter the past couple months—let him matter. Too many times you’d let him get to you. And as much as you wanted to regret it, you couldn’t fully let yourself do that yet. 

The stubborn, stupid part of you wanting to give him a chance. Wondering what had happened tonight that got him so upset. 

You cared. . .even though you really wished you didn’t. 

So as you traipsed through your front door, you were relieved when all of the lights were turned off, and there was no sight or sound of a woman. Only Stevie, who came up to purr against your calves. Feeling bad for your hungry kitty, you quickly went to drop your purse to the table so you could feed her.  

But when you looked in her dish, there was already fresh kibble in the bowl. You hadn’t fed her before you’d left. . . 

Had Jake . . .? Obviously. Your heart perked at the gesture.

Then, the sound of a guitar being strummed from his bedroom stopped your thoughts. Stevie went to eat, and you left her to do so as you walked towards the sound. 

You weren’t choosing your path. . . your feet were simply leading you, your mind hardly keeping up with what you were going to do once you got to his room. 

Just felt a want to see him. Talk to him. 

Why?

You’d worry about that later. Didn’t want to think about that for the time being.

Once you got to his door, you noticed it wasn't fully closed. You didn’t think as you pushed it open. 

And then, there you were. And there he was, facing the door, his concert attire still fully on. He looked up at you from his spot, stopping the strumming abruptly. 

But his eyes weren’t kind. He wasn’t happy. He was still feeling the anger Josh had been talking about. 

Not giving two shits how he’d react, you didn’t hold back. You were still pissed, too. At him. 

“It’s not fucking kind to invite someone to something and then leave them there without a damn hello or goodbye.”

He blinked, his lip curling to show a sarcastic smile. “You’re gonna pull that shit?”

You stepped further into his room, coming close enough to him that your knees were almost touching his, where he sat at the edge of his bed, his hand clutching the acoustic with a tight grip. Too tight. 

“What the fuck, Jake? Of course I’m going to ‘pull that shit.’ It was a fuckin’ prick move and I didn’t appreciate it.”

“It’s a prick move to keep someone waiting for a response about whether or not you’ll be somewhere when I can see damn well your schedule on that fridge, saying all week that you didn’t work tonight,” he got up to place his guitar on the stand next to his bed. He kept careful to not touch you as he moved. Wow. He placed it delicately, in stark contrast to his sharp movements. He spun on his heel to face you. “Why don’t you care, y/n? You don’t have to fucking come if you don’t care. I’d rather you stay home if you don’t want to be there when I invite you.” 

“What made you think I don’t care?!”

“You kept me hanging! All week,” he angrily brushed a hand through his hair, growling with the motion when a ring got stuck in the locks. “Fuck!” He started pulling down his bed covers, not looking at you as he argued. “You don’t do that when it’s my brother. He wants you there, you’re fuckin’ there. With me, when I ask you, you’re always late and you barely even tell me you’re coming. It’s obvious who you’re really going to see and I’m tired of you acting like you care about me when you really only care about Josh.”

“What?! First of all, you knew I worked the night of your first show. I didn’t want to. . .I got fucking called in— so don’t you dare hold that against me!” You came closer to him, hitting his arm to make him stop the unmaking of his bed. “Quit doing that and fucking listen to me!”

He went rigid, throwing the covers dramatically, stopping like you asked. He stood stiff as a board with his arms crossed at his chest. He motioned a hand for you to continue, almost mocking. “Go on. Enlighten me.”

You shoved his chest. “Stop it!” You crossed your own arms, your heart beating so hard in your chest. “Stop with the Josh shit. Anytime either of you ask, I’m there. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner about tonight. I’ve just been—I don’t know,” you’d been thinking about him. How badly you wanted to do him after the show tonight. “Distracted?”

“School?” He questioned, seeming genuinely concerned.

You shook your head, not wanting to lie. “No. Not school. I don’t know how to explain—,” you looked into his eyes. They were hardening again. “I don’t know. Just distracted.” 

He shook his head. He was in the dark. There was no way he’d know the full truth unless you told him. But you weren’t sure how to articulate it. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his jaw set. “Thank you, y/n. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Jake— seriously. Please sto—.”

“I just—dammit!” He combed a hand through his hair and got the same ring stuck. Having enough, he took the one piece of offensive jewelry off, and placed it delicately on his desk behind him. He locked eyes with you again. “The other night in the bathroom, you—I could have sworn you—but you—you told me— I just can’t keep up!”

“I can’t keep up with you!” You yelled back, momentarily worrying about neighbors. It was very late.

You were at a loss. 

You surveyed him, his chest was heaving like yours. Walking a few steps forward, your chest was almost touching his— you softly grabbed at the front of his light red T-shirt, eager for him to hear. His breathing seemed to slow at you being so close. Your eyes held each other, his were questioning.

It was now or never. The frantic beating of your heart, sounding in your ears. You were shaking. You were tired of him thinking he knew best. 

What you were most tired of was tiptoeing around—the barely missing each other. 

“I’m only asking one more time. What do you want?” He begged, reminding you of Ryan Gosling in The Notebook.

You would have giggled at the similarity if you weren’t feeling the seriousness of this moment. 

There was so much to say, but only one thing left to say, all at once. . .

You stood there, sharing breaths, for a few still seconds. Could have been minutes. You were lost in the beautiful gaze of his deep, dark eyes.

Your heart slowed, your breath catching in your throat while your stomach dropped to your knees.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said lowly, grabbing at his shirt with a sturdier hand. You weren’t scared—only sure. So fucking sure. And beyond ready. 

His jaw went slack. It almost looked like he wanted to say something to challenge you, but he bit his lip. Instead, he grabbed softly at your jaw, curving his hand up to cradle your head, softly under your flowing hair. 

“Well I can fucking do that.” Was all he said as he dove in, securing your lips with his. 

He sucked on your bottom lip and penetrated your mouth with his smooth tongue. He tasted like minty gum and cigarettes. Usually, you found it repulsive to kiss someone with the taste of nicotine in their mouth, but with Jake . . . It was suddenly everything you’d ever wanted in a kiss. 

You lost yourself in the moment. In him. There was nothing stopping you now. 

Continuing to kiss you, he turned you both, until the backs of your legs softly hit the edge of his bed. Taking that as your cue, you went to sit down on the sheets. You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, his delicious hips right at eye level with you now. He took initiative and pushed them the rest of the way down, stepping out of them.

Then all you could see in front of you was him, bursting at the seams in his pink, AE briefs. Fuck, he was so cute and sexy all at once. You didn’t know how he did it. 

Your mouth watered as you went to pull down his briefs. But he put a hand on yours to stop you, the cold metal of his rings a contrast to your heated skin.

You looked up, your eyebrows dipping in question. 

“Not yet,” he corrected. Then he took his shirt off, exposing his beautifully soft, tanned, and perfectly toned chest. A long necklace laid against his stomach, and you used it to pull him down to you. 

You laid back, his legs coming to rest in between yours as he crawled onto the bed to follow you. He unwrapped the necklace from his neck, putting it on his small bedside table. Using the time he was preoccupied, you pushed his underwear down his thighs, watching his face to see his reaction. 

He teasingly rolled his eyes at you. 

“Damn, woman,” he chuckled under his breath, showing his perfectly straight teeth. Beautiful man. He finished the job, kicking them off. “One track mind or what?”

Rolling your eyes back at him, you gave a quiet grin and clicked your tongue. “Whatever, Kiszka.”

But he wasn’t wrong. You wanted to see him. Fully.

And you were glad you got your way, because fuck. 

He was stunning. Even more so when you could fully see it, without the dimness of the bathroom lights at Baby's. How could a cock be so pretty?

You reached out to touch him. He shivered at the feeling of your cool skin on his heated, swollen flesh. So soft, smooth. . .thick.

Shit.

His precum was already leaking from his pretty pink tip. 

Your mouth was watering. Your need to have your hands on him clouded your every thought. 

But before you could do anything more than run your fingers over him, he was moving his body to be on top of yours, your hands falling from him. You edged up the bed, him following after you. His eyes were hungry, and his hands were purposeful and strong as he quickly unfastened your jeans, pulling them off in one smooth motion. 

Your pussy throbbed at how close it was to happening. How close you were to finally feeling him. Fulfilling the need you’d discovered too long ago. 

Taking off your cropped t-shirt as he stripped you of your panties, you hissed as your wet mound met the air of his room. You made quick work of your bra. 

He sat above you, gently cupping your bare pussy, while watching your naked chest rise and fall as you took several deep breaths, waiting. You ground into the palm of his hand, needing the friction. He then moved his hands, grazing them up your thighs, hips, waist, and finally let them settle on the outer curve of your breasts. 

Your skin grew goosebumps, your nipples hardening to peaks in the cool air of his bedroom. He seemed mesmerized. His mouth was slightly opened, his eyes studying your chest with every breath you took. 

“Jake?” You whispered, breaking his stare at your breasts and making him look into your eyes. 

“Sorry,” he blinked a few times, shaking his head with a little grin, balancing his hands on either side of your head. He leaned down to give your lips a sweet kiss. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen all of you . . .,” He leaned on a forearm, and reached to your chest again, holding one breast in his hand, massaging it as his thumb skated over the nipple. “Beautiful,” he praised, looking you right in the eye. Oh, Jake.

Then, his mouth attached to the opposite breast, his lips sucked gently, his tongue flicking out to lick the nipple. 

You felt it everywhere, your toes curling at his touch. And with a sigh, you leaned into his mouth, needing more. Needing all he could give. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you whined. “Your mouth feels so good.”

And then he switched breasts, making sure to give each the same treatment. . . Holy sweet hell. You were done for. 

Your body shook, feeling your nerve endings spasm. No one else had ever stimulated you this much, this way. You didn’t know you could feel so much from a man only lapping at your chest. He was magic. 

“Jake,” you keened, your chest pushing further into his mouth. Your hips thrusting up to meet his. Fuck. With both of you having your pants off, he almost entered you at the motion. And damn the temptation was too much. “Shiiiit.”

He continued to worship your chest, and when you met his hips again, he bucked into yours, deliciously rough, matching a thrust. You felt him, hard, and fitting right between your wet folds, so close to being inside you. 

You saw stars, closing your eyes. 

Fuck.

You heard the softest groan against your breast. You looked down at him, lavishing at your supple skin. One thick brow was raised, but then he pulled them in, in concentration, as he rocked into you again. Shit. 

You couldn’t help the cry that escaped you. Or the words that followed. 

“Please, Jake. Please,” you didn’t know what you were asking for. Just needed more of him. You pushed your hands into his hair, growing confidence from your position. You pushed his face further into you, and you felt him bite at your nipple. Your hips naturally came to meet his and with all of it—fuck—your moan was pornographic. “I need you,” you pushed up, grinding your hips into his. “Here,” you did it again for emphasis, your pussy aching for him.

He released the nipple he’d been sucking with a pop. There was a snicker at your chest, and you saw the dimple in his cheek when he smirked. But before he did anything else, he moved back up your body, your chests finally touching. He had a hand still holding snug to a breast. He squeezed it once, your clit thrummed at the motion and you once again pushed your front to his. 

He kissed the column of your neck softly, trailing kisses from there, all the way to the corner of your mouth. You moved to meet your lips with his, your hand still tangled in his wavy hair. 

You kissed lazily for a few minutes, just enjoying the taste of each other. Your pussy still occasionally grazing his impossibly hard front. You’d moan into each other’s mouths every time. . .absolutely euphoric.

When you came up for air, you let yourself get lost in the chocolate pools of his irises. He was so handsome. So pretty. You couldn’t help the hand that came to hold his cheek, the other one still combing through his hair. 

He gave the corner of your mouth one more peck before he rasped, moving to give the same kiss to the swell of each of your breasts. “Your tits . . .,” he blew out a breath against your skin, making the flesh erupt in goosebumps. You sighed. “Fuck, y/n. They’re perfect. So soft and full. . .” One more kiss to each, this time with tongue. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Then his slick tongue was moving from your chest, down your stomach, and over your right thigh. He hitched both of your legs up, to be bent at the knee. Giving him better access to what you knew he was about to do. He gave your pussy the same long look he gave your breast, admiring what was in front of him. He licked his lips at the sight. 

Your heart was racing. 

And without warning, his tongue found you, flattening on your sensitive clit. It was so hard, with only the slightest direct contact from his tongue, you were bucking your hips into his face. He used two strong hands to grasp and hold your hips to the bed, making sure to soothe your position by making wide, smooth circles with his thumbs in the hidden flushed dips between your thighs and groin. 

He then dipped his tongue to curve into the growing wetness between your folds. You gasped as he lapped at your arousal, occasionally moaning into you as he would lick. He continued like that for long enough that you weren’t sure you could see straight. Your legs were weak from your position. It was almost as if he was enjoying this—simply getting to taste you, feel you against his mouth. 

And suddenly, you felt your body begin to tremble uncontrollably, your every sense becoming heightened. The feeling of him was all-consuming. You couldn’t deny it any longer, the growing sensation in the pit of your belly threatening to give way at any moment. And he knew it. The work of his mouth became more intense, more fervorous, more hungry. His plush lips working your throbbing cunt into a frenzy until you finally gave in. 

He hardly took his mouth off of you, only enough to speak his velvet soft voice against your soaked pussy, his breath hot against the wet skin. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let me have it.”

Then it hit you, harder than it ever had. You suddenly realized that you’d been deprived your entire life of this feeling, no man had ever done that to you. Let alone with just his mouth. 

You came back to, arching into him as you felt his tongue make a perfect circle around the still-tight bud of your sensitive clit. You could hardly control your tremors as your body had felt the ultimate test of ecstasy. 

Then you heard a little whimper from Jake, and you looked down through hazy eyes to see his eyebrows were drawn deeper than you’d ever seen them. 

A movement caught your eyes further down. His hips were thrusting, and with each rut of them, he kept forcefully meeting the mattress. You felt his bed shake with each jerk of his hips. Your clit twitched at the sensation of the bed rocking and his mouth on you. You could only imagine what it would be like when he was inside you. You felt the vibration of a growl against your pussy.

“Jake. . .,” you moaned. He hummed against you, which you presumed was a response to you. You hitched your hips up to meet his mouth as he curled his tongue to fit in the small hole between your folds, which gained him an involuntary shake from your body and a whine from you. He then trailed his tongue all the way up from your hidden spot, to hit the sensitive underside of your clit. You groaned loudly at the way his tongue was intermittently flicking against and massaging your overly sensitive bundle of nerves. 

He whimpered again, and his brows creased so closely together. You felt another jolt beneath you as the bed shook with a rather forceful thrust from his hips. You knew he was either really enjoying himself or was getting tired and really wanted his own release. From past experience with men, you assumed the latter. 

“Jake,” you started scooting your body up the bed. You got flashbacks to nights cut too short when you said his name like that. You knew he did, too, as his mouth lifted from you and his dark eyes met your own.

“You said you wanted this,” he grunted in response, his forehead falling to lay on your thigh in defeat.

“I do, Ja—.”

He interrupted you when he dug his fingers into your hips harder, pulling you back down to meet his slick tongue. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of him lapping at you with the force he was exuding to seemingly keep you in your spot.  

You tugged at his hair harder, trying to signal him to stop. As much as you didn’t want him to stop, it wasn’t fair for you to have all of the attention. He needed his release.

He slowly, hesitantly stopped and looked up at you, and you saw his eyes soften the slightest bit at your face. You knew you probably looked concerned, as that was how you were feeling for him. 

“Are you okay?” He lifted his body from the spot he’d been laying in between your legs. He laid his body beside yours, and his swollen cock came to heavily sit on top of your leg. 

You could have drooled at the sight of it flush against your skin. Fuck.

“You need release, too, Jake,” you combed your fingers through his hair. He wrinkled his brows at that. You continued, “I’ve already finished once; you don’t have to give me any more attention.”

He leaned back a bit, seeming offended. “You don’t want me to keep going?”

You pulled him by his shoulders, back to where he’d been, and reassured. “No, I want you to keep going—Goddamn, babe. . .but I also want to make sure you are able to feel satisfied and taken care of,” you sat up, and moved down the bed, so you were looking right at his thickness. You got him to position himself to be where you just were, his back against the headboard. You stared up at him through your lashes as you spit onto his aching head, then grasped his dick in your hand, all in one fluid motion. 

His eyelids dropped, and his Amber-brown irises darkened. You gave him one slight squeeze and you saw the muscles in his thighs tighten and his head fall back slightly. But his gaze stayed on you. 

Giving him one more pump, you rolled your thumb over the head. He groaned, but you weren’t able to give him any more attention as he flipped your body to be under his again in one swift motion. 

You squinted at him from your new position, “Why can’t I—?”

“You act as if I wasn’t satisfied with what I was doing before,” he retorted, voice low and face right above yours. 

“You were obviously wanting more. You were—I wanted to help because you kept. . . thrusting into the mattress,” you blinked up into his sultry glare. “I could tell—.”

“I was fucking the mattress because I loved getting to tongue fuck the hell out of your perfect pussy,” he snapped. 

Your body tingled at his words. This man. 

But you didn’t want your desire to please him to be ignored. You reflected the glare that was still shading his features. “Why do you always have to get your way?” You argued.

He huffed, “My way?” He went down to bite the inner curve of your right breast. You moaned, feeling your nipples harden even more at the sensation. He continued his way down your body, “If I would have had my way this wouldn’t be—," You thrusted up into his stiff dick again. You smirked when he bit his lip, eyes closing to stave off your distraction. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, y/n,” his eyes bore into you, then he worked his way down to where he was, once again, settled between your legs. He gave you one lick up your folds. You whispered his name, shaking. So sensitive. So delicious. “Have I wanted your mouth on my dick for a long ass time? Fuck yes. But I’ve also wanted this again. Give me this. I want this.”

“Jake, you don’t have to say that just becau—.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. “Can you not fucking argue with me for once?” 

“Can you just fucking listen to me? I want to make sure you—.”

He forcefully entered you with one finger, his thumb reaching up to rub over your hard clit. You threw your head back, looking down at him with lust clouding your vision. You wanted to be angry with him for interrupting you, but dammit . . . you just couldn’t be. 

He pumped it in and out a few times before putting the finger in his mouth, closing his eyes and moaning. “You taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby.”

His usage of the pet name made your brain short circuit for a few seconds, but you got distracted from it because suddenly, his face was back, right above yours. His forearms caged you in, on either side of your head. His hair was draping around you like a curtain. It felt so familiar. . .so wonderful.

And now, you knew it was about to happen. 

You felt the head of his cock at your entrance, just as you had at Baby’s. 

But this time. . .this time it was different. So different. You couldn’t pinpoint how or why—it just was.

You looked down to where your bodies were so close to finally connecting. When you looked into his eyes, you noticed he was waiting for you. 

For some reason, you felt as though he’d been studying your face while you were looking away. He seemed so content to simply be watching you, waiting for you, until you found his eyes. 

When your eyes met his, you saw the smile that filled his amber-brown irises. It was a sweet moment that felt like it would forever be locked in time. You stayed there, him above  you. And somehow, you knew he was waiting for permission. So, you nodded your head. 

And without a second thought, his eyes still honing in on yours, he entered you. 

You could’ve sang, you were so relieved to feel him like this. Finally. 

“So fucking tight,” he grunted, letting his tip meet your most secret spot inside. Ohhh yeah. You wanted to fuckin’ purr.

It had been awhile . . . and Jake had noticed by your tightness. But as he rolled his hips the slightest bit, helping you adjust, hitting you right where you needed him, deep inside—there was no questioning that the man knew what the hell he was doing. 

Just like your thoughts earlier tonight. . .he was a natural. 

You continued to wince a little, since he was so thick. It took a second to stretch to his size, and he let you, moving around enough from inside to help you. But he felt so damn good, you didn’t want to stay like that for too long. You needed more. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to feel closer to him. His hair tickled the back of your hand.

Though, when you’d looked back at his face, his eyes were stuck on you, seeming to be caught in a trance, a relaxed, loose grin fitting to his pink lips.

You moved your hips just a bit. He felt you move, and he seemed to come back, his eyes locking in on your lips. He gave into the urge, kissing you, letting his tongue explore your mouth briefly, you doing the same to his mouth.

Then, when you came up for air, breathing so hard, you shared this look. Such fondness behind the gaze. It was almost too much. But like all things with Jake, it felt right.

You played with the ends of his hair, where your arms were crossed at his back. Maybe you could stay like this forever. 

But then he moved out slowly, and pushed back into you, hard and to the hilt. You felt his balls hit the bottom of your ass and you almost crossed your eyes at the ecstasy of it all. 

He rocked into you like that a few more times, a little slower, moving steadily. 

Then he switched things up. 

He held your body up, his dick still firmly inside of you as he sat up on his knees, leaning back on his heels. He balanced your ass on his thighs and pushed a pillow up behind you, sitting you up, your back against the headboard. Your legs moved of their own accord to be on either side of his hips.  

The position had you completely open to him, as your legs were spread wide, his cock pulsing inside of you. He bit his lip, focusing. It was like he was admiring a piece of art, not able to take his eyes from it. Deep in thought. 

And all of a sudden, you felt extremely vulnerable. Every piece of you on full display, save for your backside which sat perfectly on his bare thighs. So, still. He had every piece of you open to him, around him, or on top of him.

You almost spoke, but he beat you to it. 

“You are so fucking beautiful, y/n. Dammit,” he said with awe laced beautifully in his raspy voice, hitched on his next words. “This is— you are . . .,” he shook his head, and was never able to come up with the words. Instead, he just continued to let his eyes graze over you.

You felt your entire body heat at his words, the intimacy of all this. You felt emotional hearing the words, being like this with him. It was the most open and vulnerable you’d felt with a man in a long time (maybe ever), and he was seeming to treasure it just as much as you. 

His hands held your waist as you tangled a hand in his hair, and looped one arm over his shoulders - both of your chests heaving, needy.

He then brought you forward, until your clit was positioned to rub right below his belly button. You gasped at the full change in position, his cock as deep as it could go. You used the new angle as leverage and went onto the pads of your feet, raising off of him briefly, and then you slowly sank back down onto his throbbing length.

The moan he let out was heavenly. It made you feel like you were on top of the world, the way his mouth hung open. You continued to rise, and sink back down. Long and slow motions that helped you both to feel all of each other. Once you got more confident, you started swiveling your hips as you started to bounce on top of him. 

After a few more swings of your hips, he used his hold on your waist and lifted you off of him. 

You unabashedly let out a small cry at the loss of him inside you, but you moved with him. You positioned yourself to be on all fours, ass facing him— going with his motions and assuming that’s what he wanted. 

The hiss you heard leave his mouth when you were in position, and the way he kneaded your plush ass cheeks with his calloused fingertips made you smirk with victory. You knew exactly what he wanted. 

“You like that?” You breathed at him, wiggling your round ass at him, grinding back on his hardness. You felt him quiver at your movement. Then you felt a hard smack against your right asscheek. “Fuck— Jake!”

He soothed the spot, massaging it the slightest bit, and before you had time to fully process the first hit, he went in for another slap on the other cheek. 

You jolted with a squeak, surprised, but fully welcoming it. 

Fuck yeah. Did he like things rough? If so, you were here for it. 

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you pointedly made eye contact with his hooded gaze. He had a knowing smirk on his face, matching your own expression. 

He gave you two more slaps, one for each side, and this time you felt the cold metal of his rings with the hits. Oh fuck. 

You pushed back on him, wanting more. His thick cock, snug between your sore cheeks at this angle. 

But instead, he flipped you to lay on your back again. Where was this strength coming from? Dear God. 

How easily he maneuvered your body, wherever he wanted it to go. . . You bit your lip. Fuck. It was like you were his little instrument, moving you every which way, like he threw his guitar behind his head so effortlessly—that was you right now. 

Your core convulsed at the thought. 

Jake set an arm next to your head, and the other above, almost cradling it to not hit the headboard. Then he sunk his pulsing dick into your waiting, dripping cunt. At this point, you were getting fairly acquainted with his size, so you grabbed his perfectly round backside, burying him the deepest he could be in you. 

You also used this position to sway your hips up, each stroke on his dick intentional. Throwing in a little trick of yours, you tightened your muscles to grip his length with each roll of your hips, making him fit even more snug, inside of you. 

“Oh baby,” he groaned at the feeling, the first time you did it. And after a few more, he tapped your hip. “If you don’t stop, I’m not gonna last.”

He was trembling above you. His arm was shaking next to your head. 

“Y/n, baby—fuck,” he grunted, tapping at your hip harder. He wasn’t ready to be done. Neither were you. So you tapped him right back, motioning for him to move off of you. 

After he’d moved, you went to lay partially on your side and partially on your belly. You lifted your ass to indicate you were ready. And in one smooth move, his chest was against your back, his arms back where they were before, but in the new position. He slowly slid in, feeling out the new angle. 

You loved it. One of your new favorites. 

“I love this fuckin’ view of you, y/n,” he groaned, his breath hitting your shoulder. “And the way you feel like this—goddamn.”

He was filling you up, all the way, except this time, you had the combined feeling of him inside, while his smooth sac hit your pussy with each languid pump of his hips. 

You watched how his bicep and fist flexed at the same time, with each thrust, so purposeful. 

Damn him for being so sexy.

His hips started moving quicker, almost of their own accord. And before you knew it, he was pounding into you, his balls slapping hard against you. 

The sounds—the way it felt— perfection.

Your toes curled. Ecstasy. He kept hitting your hidden spot inside; your clit was getting friction from his sheets; and the back of your pussy was getting attention, too. Fuck. This position was going in the books.

Without warning, you felt the arm next to you move, his hand going to sweep swift circles on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Jaaaake,” you whined, sounding completely pathetic. Sweat was beading at your forehead. Your folds were spasming, your pussy ready to let go. “Fuck, baby.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore. All of it combined—the loud slaps of flesh, the sweat, his hand, the pressure of his pretty dick stretching your tender pussy- hitting every part of you—damn.

You came for the second time that night with a curl from your hands and toes, and a loud sob.

“Doing so good, y/n,” he pushed his chest closer to your back, feeling your release against his hand and helping you ride the wave. And all of a sudden, his hips started rutting, so erratically against your ass, his dick pulsing inside with each roll of his hips. “I’m gonna—where do you—fuck! Y/n—.”

Shit. You almost forgot. You weren’t on the pill. You’d just gone off a few months ago. Shit shit shit shit.

Momentarily snapping from your hazy afterglow, you grasped his hip. “Dammit—on my back!” 

Thankfully, he pulled out in time, and with a small moan from his perfect lips, hot spurts of his cum met your back, shiny from sweat. 

After, he laid above you, one shaking arm still above you, the other now holding your tummy. Okay, now you hated this position. You couldn't easily flip to see his face. And you wanted to see him.

He made quick work of reaching for his T-shirt from earlier to clean off your back. 

“Wanna see your face,” he sighed, rubbing at your shoulder. 

You grinned at the sentiment, wanting so desperately to see him, too. So, you rolled onto your back, letting an arm fall above your head, and the other lay across your stomach, replacing where his had been. In a daze, you watched him as he cleaned up his cock, still glistening from your climax. 

Changing your line of sight, you let yourself watch his face as he cleaned himself. His lips were slightly parted, his top lip curled a bit to show some of his top row of teeth. He was focused. And damn he looked good like that. 

But you already knew that. 

Finally, he was done, and he threw the shirt over the side of the bed, joining the pile of clothes on the ground. 

He went to lay just as you had, but with extended an arm for you to curl into.

You should have left. Gone back to your room. You’d gotten what you wanted.

And this was wrong. If it went too far, it could seriously hurt Jake. Make Josh impossibly angry with you for corrupting his brother. . .

But before you could even begin to move, focus too hard on any reasonable thought whatsoever, your head filled with Elsie’s voice, wise with the conversation you’d had that day, in the entryway. 

“I’m saying. . .what if it’s possible he could just want you in his bed and nothing else?” She’d scratched her head. “Would that hurt anything or anyone? I mean, you’ve made it seem to me that you don’t really have any emotional attachment to him. So if you did that, who would it hurt?”

You glanced up at his face, his eyes drooping to follow the sleep you were also craving. His lids fluttered against his smooth skin - his sharp features. Yeah, you were good on that, still . . . no emotional attachment. But he was nice to look at.

Your voice from that day sprang to your mind, fighting.

“Elsie, that’s a stupid plan that could go horribly wrong,” she’d gasped at your insult to her idea. And you’d leveled her with a stare. “And you know it.”

“I do, I do,” she’d reassured. “But what if you just cut it off when it starts to feel like too much?”

You looked to his hands, drumming mindlessly against his hard, tanned stomach. His mouth hummed an unknown tune. You wanted to sink into him. But you knew you could cut it off. You were a pro at that.

“You think I could do that?” You hadn’t been able to believe you were actually starting to give substance to her idea in your head. 

(And here you were doing it again.)

“You’re pretty damn good at burying things right down to the pits of hell, so. . .,” She’d blinked at you, almost innocently with her savage plan leaving her lips. “What’s the harm in giving it a shot? I mean, just one time, at least?”

So, you used your sister’s words from the past as your pass to let yourself be exactly where you wanted to be right now: in his warm, safe, strong arms. It had been now one time. You'd given it a shot. . .

But what if . . .?

And just as you settled into him, your cheek resting on his toned pec, his heart beating steadily underneath, you heard the last of Elsie’s words from that conversation, inspiring you even more to do this. 

To force some substance on this otherwise ridiculous, horrible idea. 

She’d glanced to the side, letting her eyes wander mysteriously for a second. “I think it would be good for you to live on the edge. Just once.” 

And that was all you needed in that sweet, quiet moment, letting yourself cozy up, right into Jake’s chest. . .feeling him kiss the crown of your head. 

Tomorrow could worry about itself.

Because right now? Right now, you were the most blissed out - the most comfortable you’d ever been. 

You weren’t fucking ready to lose this yet, dammit.

And as you drifted off, seconds later, his soft snores lulling you peacefully, you could only hope that he wasn’t ready to lose this—whatever the hell this was—yet, either. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: i'm so ready to share what's coming... i wish i could tell you guys (gn)!! it's killingggg me. anywayssss... please let me know your thoughts! you know i love hearing from you all :) &lt;3

(I will say, I've been giving sporadic hints from the first chapter of what's to come. . . hmmm. who thinks they can guess what's going to turn Reader's life upside down?)

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

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[azullumi]

hi azul!!

i loved ur latest fic of fatui!scara and his fam, could u do like a fic one? like a whole imagine tyyy

“kisses to heal loneliness” ; scaramouche/wanderer

summary — you spend most of your days in pure loneliness due to your husband always being away for work and so when he comes home late at night…

pairings — scaramouche/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff; established relationship, domestic life, lots of goddamn kisses being mentioned and done, scaramouche is not mean here (he’s just a guy hopelessly inlove, he still commit crimes though)

words — 1243

notes — the child in the previous fic doesn’t exist yet hageuwhshs but the reader and scara are married here so yeah ^^ i hope you like this! i haven’t written requests for a while

there was the sound of the door opening and light footsteps treading in the darkness of your home echoing throughout the place, the only thing heard in the silence—it felt like time had completely stopped with how quiet and still the surroundings were.

the man who had just entered caught a glimpse of a person—you—sleeping on one of the couches peacefully, without any care of the world as if someone didn’t just invaded their own home—thankfully, however, the man wasn’t a stranger and was rather your husband who had just came home after working for seemingly the whole day and he was greeted by the sight of you sleeping in the living room instead of your own bedroom.

he couldn’t help but sigh upon thinking that you probably waited for him to come home even if he had specifically told you not to. did you push yourself again to stay awake so you could wait for him? how many times have he told you already not to stay up late just so you could greet him once he enters the door? he lost count anymore and might have given up at this point knowing how stubborn you can get. he rolls his eyes at the thought as he approaches your sleeping figure, quietly and carefully, afraid that he’ll wake you up.

he reached his arms out to your face and a warm and gentle feeling of something that seemed like a hand, softly caressing your skin, glossing and tracing your cheek was felt. the feeling itself was ticklish, eventually pulling you to consciousness and stirring you awake only to be greeted by a blurry sight of a person sitting in front of you, their figure blocking the light passing through the window and casting a shadow on you.

“scara…?” you call out in a whisper as you sit up, rubbing your eyes to adjust your sight to your surroundings. scaramouche’s gaze followed you as you rose and he always never seem to notice how his eyes always softens when he looks at you and how fondness laces itself in the depths of his orbs, or maybe he does, perhaps he realizes it from the gentleness of his touch and how he refrains himself from spilling words that could hurt you.

once you’ve known that it was indeed him, your lips couldn’t help but break out into a smile. “how long have you been here?”

“i arrived just now. what were you doing, sleeping on the couch as if we don’t have a bedroom?” he sits down besides you as he asks, as if he doesn’t know the answer already but scaramouche misses you and your voice.

“i was waiting for you,” you answered, a hand reaching out to cup his cheek and gently caress your thumb against his skin, “you were gone for the whole day, you know?”

“i thought you’ve already gotten used to me being gone—“

“i could never.” getting used to his absence was an idea that horrified you—especially with his line of work, always leaving to take on dangerous tasks that can put his life at risk—, you could never get yourself more acquainted with the vast nothingness of the nonexistence of his being. it scares you to think that one day, you’ll get accustomed to the coldness of his absence, that you’ll be more familiar with the silence more than his presence.

“i could never get used to being alone, much less you being gone.”

silence reigned between the two of you as he could only gaze at you (words will not come out of his mouth even if he’ll try to speak) affection being conveyed through his eyes, and there was only one thought running inside his head, tainting and ruling over his mind—to kiss you. whether the situation was asking him or not, he just couldn’t help it, you just look so adorable and lovely right now that he couldn’t help but think of crashing his lips against yours and molding it against each other like two missing puzzle pieces; to taste forgiveness and stars in your mouth.

and so he did.

with his hand held out to touch your face, to gently trace your features with the tip of his finger, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his palm rested against your cheek and you leaned against his touch, relaxing at the warmth of his presence. breaths slowly syncing and matching the pace of the other, he closed in the gap between you two, the distance between you being covered until it was no more as he captures your lips into a kiss—slow but it is one that is filled with affection, adoration, and all of his feelings that he cannot (for the life of archons) never tell you.

your fingers reach up to tangle itself in his hair, lacing itself in his indigo locks, as the kiss continues and deepens into a passionate one—everything slows and faded as if there was only the two of you—lips chasing each other, desperate to feel and taste one another, and you could swear that you heard a low moan from him when you bit his bottom lip.

but of course, things always come to an end and so, lips parting from each other, as you need to chase your breaths. he rests his forehead against you, your eyes remains on him with the same affectionate and loving gaze you had since earlier; sometimes, he thinks if you realize that the hand you hold is tainted with blood and sins.

you chuckle, “have i told you that i love you?”

“even if you don’t tell me, i’ll know anyways.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing his answer, it was a response that you expected from him. honestly, he’s only been gone for a day but it feels like it has been a long time since he disappeared. was it just the weather? the vast feeling of loneliness of eating alone nearly every single day? the silence that you have to listen to in every instance that he’s gone? archons, oftentimes the house can just be too big and cold when you’re just on your own.

the two of you remained there, still as time and silence, only relishing in this rare moment that you get to spend with him in vulnerable times.

“i love you.”

he says and although his voice sounds the same as usual, seemingly monotonous, but the hints of adoration and warmth trailing his tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, his words managing to make its way to you and making your heart flutter. you planted a quick kiss on his lips, the feeling itself lingering in his mouth, the sweet aftertaste of you persisting in his lips—

“i love you too, kuni.”

BONUS

“should we have a child then so you would feel less lonely?”

once he had offered you that idea, you stilled. normally, you would have hit him for giving such an idea but it actually makes sense, it sounds tempting, even. in some sense, it could work and perhaps, it could lessen the loneliness that you feel whenever he’s not around.

“so what do you say?” he asks before then pressing his lips against your temple, kisses trailing down the sides of your face and tracing your jaw, interrupting your thought process and making you unable to think properly. “hm?”

“scara, wait—let me think about it.”

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[sparklingchan]

Echoes|| Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids)

Pairing: Reader(fem.) X Hyunjin

Word count : 5.8K+

Warnings : Blood, death, weapons, fire.

Genre : Romance, time-travel AU, royal AU, suggestive, mentions of death

Description: One day, you’re a college student, barely making it through your finals. And the next, you wake up in a palace, married to the most beautiful man on earth. What the hell is happening?!

A/N : HELLO MY TUMBLR FAM! I know its been way toooo long. And I’ll be honest, I missed everyone and I missed writing more than anything. I’ll try to post regularly and I hope my stories reach out to you as much as they did before.

Also, in other news, if this story gets a good response then imma write a mini series of royal stories for the other members as well(the stories will not be interrelated tho)

I hope y’all like this! I put my heart and soul into it!

You're not sure if you're awake anymore or just a frozen sack of meat staring at a painting like your life depended on it.

"See? I told you, y/n! She looks like you." Your friend, Lia squeals excitedly. You wish you could share even half of her enthusiasm.

You knew this trip to the museum was a bad idea the moment you got on the bus. This entire trip has just not been clicking with you the way you'd expected it to.

You were always a history lover, though. You'd read pages and pages about kings and queens and ancient politics and everything along those lines. This trip was supposed to be equally enlightening but you'd spent the entire day trying shake off an odd, eerie feeling that seems to have latched on to your back.

"Yeah.." you mutter to Lia.

Your eyes run along every single stroke of the painter's brush. The red hues of the curtains, the golden shine of the crowns, the green frills on the Prince's overcoat and the brown contour of the Princess's face.

The face that somehow mirrored yours.

"Maybe she's a far, far ancestor of yours?" Lia suggests, "Who knows, y/n!"

There's no way a Princess from the 1800s could be your ancestor; you'd know if you had even a bit of royal blood coursing through your veins.

And in that one possibility out a million, even if you did have a royal ancestor, there's no way she'd look exactly like you. No way.

"Or it could be your past life, y/n." Lia's voice goes into a whisper, her eyes widening behind her square rimmed glasses, "Maybe you were the princess."

You only sigh in response.

You walk closer to read the placard placed near the foot of the painting.

Hwang Yeji

Painter, 1795-1856.

Portrait of His Royal Highness Prince Hwang Hyunjin and the Royal consort

1827

Oil on canvas

Her Royal Highness princess Hwang Yeji was born in 1795 to His majesty King Chung and the royal consort Her Majesty Queen Sayuu of the then kingdom of Clé. She also has a twin brother, Prince Hwang Hyunjin who is believed to be older than her by a few minutes.

“It is said that the Crown Prince and Princess have had quite a tragic story, and Princess Yeji had gathered strentgh to complete this painting a long time after her brother and sister in law were tragically killed.” Lia reads out the rest of the sentences.

"I'm taking a picture, oh God! This is so fucking awesome." Lia fishes out her phone and starts clicking pictures of the painting, muttering how the similarity between these you and the Royal Consort is giving her goosebumps, "Should I make a video too?"

Her voice drains out into the background as a throbbing pain spreads across your head and eyes and you see odd flashes like the scenes of a movie playing without any particular order; castles, ball dances, a crown colored in blood and a boy wounded in your arms.

An unexplainable force pushes you closer to the painting and the moment your fingers touch the rough wooden frame, your headache stops.

"Y/n, you're not allowed to touch the pai-"

Lia's voice gets quieter and quieter till your vision goes black and your body goes limp.

*

When your eyes flutter open after god knows how long, you find yourself in a rather unexpected place.

The room is bright. Too bright for your liking. Yet the sparkling white marble of the walls and floor look beautiful against the dark brown vintage furniture of the room.

You stir against the feather soft mattress of the bed when a concerned voice calls you from across the room.

"Oh my darling! You're awake!" The voice is gentle, "We were so worried about you, y/n."

Your vision is still hazy but you see the figure of a lady walking toward you.

"Um, where am I?" You ask, rubbing your temples.

Until a while ago, there was unbearable pain but now you feel fine.

"Oh dear," the lady sits at the foot of your bed, "You're home. Do you not remember?"

Home? Since when did home go from a 3 BHK apartment in the heart of the city to this huge, fancy room?

"There..there has been some kind of mistake, ma'am."

When you try to sit up, she pushes you back down. Gentle but insistent.

"Dear, you need to rest. The physician will be here in the evening and I am to stay here with you until Hyunjin arrives, okay?"

She smiles at you and finally, you are able to take a closer look at the woman. Her hair is graying but long, a silver crown rests on her head gracefully and she wears the most beautiful silk gown you'd ever seen. Her face is wrinkled yet when she smiles, one can tell that she must have been quite a beauty back in the day.

"W-who might you be, ma'am?" You ask, nervous, heartbeat in your throat.

You were excited when you saw the fancy room earlier but now it's getting real creepy. Why is this random woman talking to you as if she knows you?

"Oh, dear, y/n," She places a hand on your forehead, and you flinch, "I'm your mother in law. Queen Sayyu. Do you really not remember?"

Your breath gets caught in your throat.

Queen Sayyu. You'd heard that name before. That painting in that museum you were in. Lia was right beside you. What the fuck happened after that?

"I think you're mistaken, ma'am. I am a student. I cannot be married." You mutter, "Did you find my phone when I was brought here? I could call my friend. She must be around." Because there's no way Lia would leave you alone with this creepy old lady with some serious personal issues, right?

But then again, Queen Sayyu was a real person. And for all you know, her daughter in law did resemble you.

Did you perhaps travel back in time? Or was it just your brain making you see weird things?

"Phone? What's that?" She asks.

You sigh, and tap your thighs where your pant pockets once resided but now, your fingers slide across the softest silk.

"Where are my clothes?" You jump out of the bed, getting worried by the second.

Why were you dressed in a blue silk gown? You don't even remember ever buying one.

Panic seizes you when Sayyu tries to touch you, "Ma'am, would you please tell me what’s going on? I'm genuinely confused!"

"I am telling you the truth! You, y/n Princess of The Northern Kingdom was married off to my son Hwang Hyunjin a few months back. " she sucks in a deep breath, "Did you perhaps lose your memories after the accident? Did you hit your head too hard?"

You are about to open your mouth to reply when you hear a gentle knock on the door.

"Y/n, it's Hyunjin. "

Sayyu passes you a worried look before she rushes off to let her son in.

"It's worse than I thought, " you hear her whisper as the front door opens, "She has amnesia!"

You sit on the edge of the bed, running a frustrated hand through your hair.

As if the mother wasn't enough, the son is here too. Brilliant.

"Please talk to her. She is saying peculiar things like some thing called phones and some girl called Lia and she kept asking who I was!" Sayyu continues whispering to Hyunjin, with no active reaction from the latter.

You wonder if Sayyu was really stupid enough to think you couldn't hear her.

"I'll talk to her." A male voice finally replies, "You should rest, mother. You've been here all day."

For some reason, you cannot bring yourself to have a look at your supposed husband.

You have a fleeting memory of the painting you'd seen back at the museum but you weren't sure if the Prince really did look as attractive in real life.

You hear the front door open and close, and then heavy footsteps approach you.

"Is this some new plan of yours? Trying to get attention again?"

Wow. What the actual hell!

You snap your head to look at him, "Excuse me?"

But oh, boy was he beautiful. Long blonde hair, golden eyes and blue silk robes, he carried it all so elegantly.

"Y/n, please. I know you didn't actually lose your memories. So stop pretending and tell me why you are doing it."

For a second, you almost feel bad for yourself.

Well not you you but the princess you.

It must have been hard marrying someone like this. But then again, good looks hardly ever guarantee good behavior.

"I am not pretending. I genuinely do not remember anything, Hyunjin! Why do you have to be so mean?"

"If you really do not remember anything then why are fighting with me like you do always! See, I was right. You are lying."

You clench your jaw, frustrated, " I am fighting because whether I remember you or not, you're still a piece of shit!"

Hyunjin's eyes widen in shock. Of course he never expected his graceful wife to ever use such profanities. He looks betrayed.

"Now get the hell out of my room."

You climb back into the bed, cover your head with the quilt and shut your eyes.

Before you know it, you are sleeping soundly with no idea that your poor husband is spending the night on the sofa in your room

*

The next morning, you are woken up by your maids followed by the most delicious breakfast ever.

They prepare a bath for you, chose a gorgeous gown from the closet, and even style your hair. You do not even have to lift a finger to get these things done.

And all of a sudden, your odd reality doesn't feel as horrible anymore.

You remember the placard placed near that painting, and all your fears vanish. It was written that Prince Hyunjin and his wife would be killed in a few years and you are positive that when you die in this world, you will wake up in your original world.

Yes, the dying part is scary but might as well enjoy the luxury that comes with the fear.

In the afternoon, you find yourself sipping tea and breathing the fresh air of the rose garden behind your palace quarters.

"So you are...Nabi. My lady in waiting?"

Nabi is a cheerful, smiley young woman. She also seems to be closer to the princess version of yourself than most other maids.

"Yes, your Highness, " she sighs sadly, "It breaks my heart to see you like this. Do you really not remember anything?"

"Um, I remember some things. Like the king's and queen's name and princess Yeji. I also know that I am from the Northern Kingdom."

You also know that you'd die in around two years and Hyunjin's sister will make a painting to let the world know what a tragic story you had, but you decide to not say that.

Nabi pouts, "I'm sorry, your Highness. I wish I were there when you fainted. Maybe I could have helped you."

You tap your fingers against the porcelain cup in your hand, "Could you tell me exactly what had happened that day? Did I fall down? Or something else happened?"

"Oh, you didn't fall, no," she chuckles, "All the women of the Royal family were invited to this art gallery. While looking through some paintings, you suddenly fainted. We brought you back immediately."

"The physician check you and confirmed that you weren't pregnant, much to the Queen's dismay. She was looking forward to becoming a grandmother."

You almost spit the tea out, "What! Where did that even come from?"

Nabi smiles, "Well, why else would a newlywed bride faint? Anyway, I knew you weren't pregnant. You'd told me the prince and you haven't done that, you know."

Wow. The princess 'you' really told this girl way more than needed.

"And why exactly did I say we hadn't fu- I mean done that yet?" And now you were asking more than necessary.

"Because he's cold to you." She says, "But you know, even when you told me that, I knew he loved you and only you. He has never been involved with another and I saw him keep a portrait of yours in his private study room."

You are at a loss of words. How does one even react to this kind of information? Should you be happy for the princess 'you' or should you be jealous of her?

You force a smile, "How exactly did you find out about the portrait?"

"What portrait?" A male voice says from somewhere behind you.

Nabi and the other maids quickly get on their feet and greet their prince as this ethereal man walks out from behind the tall bushes.

"Hm? What are you guys talking about?" He asks, a gentle smile on his lips.

Oh so now he smiles?

"Just palace gossip." Nabi says, her gaze low.

"Is it true, my princess?" Hyunjin walks toward you and takes your hand in his, pressing his lips gently to your fingers.

You hate the way your cheeks heat up at the contact.

"Y-yeah. Obviously." You say.

He smiles widely, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "Could you ladies please excuse us?"

When Nabi and the maids leave, you find yourself alone with the prince again and you're not sure how you feel about that.

Last night, he was so mean to you and now he's acting like a lovestruck man? What is the meaning of this?

You push him away, "What?"

He sighs.

Today, his blonde hair is tied half way up, and he wears a diamond crown. He looks more sophisticated from last night. More prince-like.

"What?" You demand again.

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday, okay? I'm still not convinced that you've lost your memories but can we put this behind us for a while?" He says, "Can you come with me to the study room? I have to show you something."

You follow him without question.

The palace complex is still a maze to you and other than your living quarters, you don't know much about the rest of the palace.

He leads you through a staircase to a huge room on the top floor of one of the buildings. Or was it the main palace where the king and queen resided? You weren't sure anymore.

"Yeji was very worried to hear about your amnesia, by the way." Hyunjin mutters as he lights the candles in the room, "She'll be back by next summer."

"Where has she gone?" You say, mindlessly staring at the huge collections of books in this place. A huge chandelier hangs from the center of the room and as the Hyunjin continues to light numerous candles and lanterns around the room, your eyes finally take in the whole picture of the room. For a second, you almost felt like you were watching a Renaissance period drama.

Hyunjin stops in his tracks, "y/n, do you really not know?"

He turns around and looks at you strangely, as if expecting your eyes to give away the truth of this supposed amnesia.

And when he sighs, you know that he didn't find what he desired.

"She's training under a really famous dance academy. If she's lucky, she might be able to clear her final year dance exams this year." He says.

You want to ask him if art doesn't interest her but that might make him doubt you again. You cannot afford to do that when Hyunjin is the only person here who you trust even slightly.

Nabi is honest and Sayyu is kind but you find it hard to match their energy.

"So what did you want to sho-" You stop mid sentence when your eyes fall on a huge painting behind Hyunjin's study table.

Your painting.

"It's me", you gasp, "It's..my portrait."

"Yeah. I just finished it today, actually." He rubs the back of his neck, "I'll hang it in your room once the paint dries."

In the painting, you are sitting on a chair, dressed in the finest white dress you'd ever seen. An elegant tiara sits on the crown of your head, and your lips are stretched into a smile.

"Hyunjin..." you are at a loss of words.

Nabi was right; Hyunjin did have a portrait of you in his study. What she didn't know is that he was the one who made the painting while all this while you were under the impression that Yeji was the artist in the family.

"It's good right?" He asks, unsure.

"Yes. I love it," you reply, "When is this image from?"

Hyunjin frowns at your words, again scanning your eyes as if looking for some hint of lies in your words.

"Y-you don't remember?" He asks.

"What?"

He sighs, looking rather disappointed, "It's from our wedding, y/n."

*

Hyunjin is starting to wonder if you'd actually lost your memories.

The next few days, he tries to subtly engage you in conversations regarding your wedding day and your life before getting married and by the time the week ends, he is sure you'd lost your memories.

He hated to admit it, but he did like the fact that you couldn't remember the times when he was so horrible to you.

Now he can start anew. A clean slate.

"You've been spending suspiciously a lot of time with me, Hyunjin." You had asked him one evening, munching up a cookie, "What's up?"

He chuckles; he's come to enjoy this new side of yours. It's a completely different version of your other self- the one who grew up training to be the lady of a house.

"Nothing," he grabs a cookie for himself, "We're having a ball this evening, by the way. It's mother and father's 30th anniversary."

Your eyes widen with excitement, "Really?! We're having a ball ball. Like we wear dresses and all? And we dance under a huge chandelier?"

Hyunjin is taken aback; you used to hate balls. Or any public gathering for that matter.

"Y-eah, well. Yes." He gulps.

"Oh my god. I need to talk to Nabi. I have so much to prepare, oh my god. Why are you only just telling me," you grab another cookie and sprint towards your room, "Also will there be a fountain where wine flows instead of water? That would be so cool!"

Hyunjin gives you a soft smile; no such fountain was planned for the ball but if it meant he'd see you this excited, he could pull a few strings.

*

The rest of the hours leading upto the ball is a blur; you only remember running from the dressing room to the ball room to your bedroom and back to the dressing room and as for Hyunjin, the day goes slower than ever.

He only got to see flashing glimpses of you running from place to place and somewhere, deep down in his heart, he missed your attention.

It was a jarring realization; him enjoying your company and attention and even craving it at times. He couldn't quite digest this unfamiliar feeling yet, he realised, he wasn't unwelcome to it.

"Are you ready? They're waiting for the Prince and Princess, y/n. We don't want the Royal families of other kingdoms thinking we were out doing something unholy now, would we?"

Hyunjin has this mischievous smile on his, leaning against the door Frame of your dressing room.

Is he flirting? You wonder.

You sigh, "I don't think I look good enough, Hyunjin. I look..weird."

You run a hand over the lustrous material of your ball gown. You feel very foreign in your body all of a sudden.

"I don't think so, my lady," Hyunjin steps into the room, a hand gentle on your waist, "I think you look breathtaking. What would you say, Nabi?"

Nabi hides a blush while you stare at your husband; wide eyed and mouth gaping.

What has gotten into him lately? Is he trying to annoy you or are these words coming from somewhere else?

You shake the latter thought away from your mind. How could this beautiful Prince from centuries before your time find you breathtaking?

Impossible.

You swallow your nervousness and turn on your heels.

"If you say so," you shrug, "Let's go, come on, Hyunjin. "

Chuckling softly to himself, Hyunjin follows suit.

The evening is great but you don't remember much by the time it ends; you somehow end up getting drunk on wine from the wine fountain and Hyunjin has to subtly carry you away from the ball room.

"Hyunjin ~" you slur as he covers your body with a duvet, "Do you ever wonder if a parallel universe exists?"

He lies down beside you, sighing, "Maybe. Why do you ask?"

"I know it exists. I am living proof that it exists, you know," you say, passionately, "I'm not bluffing."

Hyunjin laughs, " Of course, you're not. How could you lie?"

He pushes strands of hair behind your ear.

Your heart thumps against your chest; you love that feeling.

"If there was a parallel universe, I hope I end up with you." You giggle, snuggling into his chest.

Hyunjin freezes for a moment, breath stuck in his throat and eyes not even blinking.

But when he feels you relaxing into him, he let's his shoulders slouch.

"If there was a parallel universe, I hope I end up with you too."

The only reply he gets from you is a snore.

*

The next few months are smooth as the calm sea, pleasant as the spring wind, beautiful like the blooming of roses.

You'd come to adore Hyunjin- that was for sure. You'd come to love his presence and crave it everytime you guys were apart. He had become like the anchor to your ship; and you, his.

"Yeji's coming home tomorrow, by the way. How much do you remember of her?"

"Just her face," and the fact that when you're both killed brutally one day, she'd make a painting of you two, immortalising your love.

The thought causes your stomach to stir; you didn't want to go back to the reality you knew.

All of a sudden, you find yourself wishing you had more time with this man- this man who loved nothing more than lying in your arms, your naked bodies as close as one could get, this man who had made you feel safe when you were suddenly sucked into this unknown world, this man who loved you to death and beyond.

Hyunjin snuggles in closer(as if he could get any closer) and kisses your temple oh so tenderly. Then he moves to your cheek, then nose and then mouth.

His lips are plump and warm and inviting, and before you know it, you both find yourself falling into the wonderful ocean of pleasure. Over and over again.

The next day when Yeji arrives, you are skeptical about approaching her but she was more than happy to see you. Before the day ended, she'd already invited you to a tea party in the gardens, and by the week ended, you guys had become great friends.

She was just so comfortable to talk to and so friendly. She was so curious yet sweet. How could you not be her friend, you often wondered.

It was on one such afternoon picnic that Nabi came running to you.

"His Majesty is injured! He was attacked during his hunt."

You didn't waste a second before storming off towards his room, not caring for your supposed lady etiquette anymore.

No God, please, not yet.

You reach your bedroom, out of breath and sweaty, and Hyunjin was sitting at the edge of the bed, getting his wounds cleaned.

Your heart drops into your stomach.

There is a big gash on his arm; bleeding profusely even though the physicians were trying to stop it. There are blue and purple all over his face and stomach, and a few more smaller cuts on his entire body.

And he looked terrified and pale and sad.

"Hyunjin..." you run to him.

He looks up at you, teary eyed.

"Y/n...I'm okay." Is his first instinct, "Don't cry."

You sit beside him and press a long kiss to his temple, your heart feeling lighter when the physician signals to you that the bleeding has stopped.

"Who was it?" You ask

Yeji stands in front of the two of you; tears streaming down her face.

"Whoever it was, I'll kill them with my own two hands, goddammit!"

"Calm down, guys." Hyunjin sighs, "I didn't see a face. But they were wearing a very familiar perfume. I wonder who it could have been."

You swallow nervously, "Just..just stay safe okay?"

Hyunjin smiles at you, "Of course, my love."

An odd mixture of expressions grace Yeji's face.

*

While Hyunjin recovers, you make sure he does not step out of the palace unaccompanied.

You're getting his food tested, his room sanitized, and every gift that he receives has to go through multiple rounds of security checks. You know what is to come, but some silly, silly part of you wants to prevent it.

"You're being a little too paranoid, I think." Hyunjin tells you as the servants set up the dinner table for him, "I'm gonna be fine, y/n."

"Hyunjin, just," you sigh, reminding yourself to be patient with him, "Just please let me do what I'm doing. It helps me sleep at night."

With a gentle wave of his wrist, Hyunjin dismisses the servants.

He grabs your hand and pulls you in to sit on his lap.

"Y/n, I'm literally right here. I'm stronger than you think. I'm not planning on leaving you any time soon." He presses a kiss to your temple.

A wave of realization washes over you, and you find yourself tearing up, melting into his embrace.

How did you even come to love this man that you'd only ever heard of in history books? Was this even real? If you pinch yourself hard enough, would you wake up to a world where Hyunjin is not yours anymore?

"Just shut up, goddammit, " you say to him, "Hold me, please."

You say it like a request, but really, you were begging him to hold you. To make you feel safe, even if it's for a short while. Because for all you know, the end could be closer than expected.

That night, you and Hyunjin fall asleep in each other's embrace. There was nothing more pure, raw, or beautiful than what you felt with him. In a span of a few months, you'd fallen madly in love with the prince.

It's funny, huh, how you never found love back in the modern world yet here you were, sharing your whole heart with Hyunjin?

Maybe it was always meant to be like that and maybe when this beautiful daydream ends someday, you could look back at it and relish these memories.

"Y/n, get up." You're pulled out of your sleepy thoughts when you feel someone tap you on the shoulder. Urgent.

"Nabi? What time is it?" You whisper back, gently putting Hyunjin's head of the pillow, "What's happened?"

Nabi shakes her head, "The Royal investigators have got some news. A possible group of assassins is heading to the palace as we speak. My lady, we must rush you to safety immediately. The soldiers will escort the Prince."

Your heart hammers against your chest.

"I-I can't leave him. He's not recovered yet. He cannot fight!"

"Your majesty, please. I beg you," Nabi replies, "These are the orders of The Queen. I have to escort you to where the ladies are. "

With a tight throat, you quietly follow Nabi out of the room.

She leads you down through a secret tunnel between Your Palace and The King's, that leads to a dark corridor with a single metal door at the end.

"This way, your majesty. The princess and the queen are inside. I'll bring you news from to time so there's nothing to worry about." Nabi says as she unlocks the door from the outside. She passes the lantern to you.

The moment you step into the dark room inside, you hear a loud bang. You turn around in horror only to find the door closed in your face and Nabi gone.

"N-nabi?" You murmur nervously, "Why did you close the door?"

From inside the room, you hear a faint chuckle.

"She's gone, y/n. Left us to rot in this dungeon forever. "

"Yeji?"

You jog towards the tired, lifeless voice.

And when you reach the princess, what your lantern shows you horrifies you to the core.

"Your majesty!" You fall on your knees, grabbing the lifeless body of a once beautiful Queen who you'd come to adore over the years, "W-what happened?"

You're crying now; watching the princess caress her mother's cold face.

You're sobbing; watching the bloody hands of the daughter who tried to stop her mother from bleeding to death.

"Nabi is..", Yeji swallows, "She's a part of the resistance that wants to overthrow the monarchy. They want a military ruled government. It was her doing. On the day Hyunjin was attacked, I knew it was her."

You cry harder, moaning into your hands.

How could she?

"And I too, am at fault here. I made the mistake of befriending her so so many years ago," Yeji continues, "I paved her way into the palace. I'm as much as of a criminal as her."

You clear your throat, rubbing the tears off your cheeks and neck, another sob bubbling within your chest.

"We do not have time to repent things we had no control over," you say, "The Queen Mother is gone but we can still save your father and Hyunjin. "

"They've taken father to their military fortress. " Yeji says, her tone suggesting she's given up all her hopes. "He's as good as dead. "

"Then we save my husband."

"Y/n, how will we-"

"I saw the key. When Nabi unlocked the door, I saw the key."

"What about it?" Yeji asks, shifting.

"It doesn't have a key. It only has a numerical lock code."

Yeji lifts an eyebrow, as if to ask you "So?"

"It was 0143."

*

Leaving the Queen Mother's body behind, you and Yeji rush out of the door, grabbing every knife, sword, and other sharp object you could find in the dungeon.

"I think she must have taken Hyunjin hostage," Yeji says, rubbing the sweat off her forehead. "But since he cannot fight that well because of his wounds, they're probably interrogating him in your bedroom. "

"Interrogating him for what?"

"The keys to the Royal armory and the king's safe of gold."

Sure enough, you find Hyunjin in your bedroom. Except it wasn't your Hyunjin, it was a replica of

Queen Sayyu. Blood and blood and blood everywhere on his body. His eyes barely open but his hands, they pointed at you as you rushed in.

"Hyunjin!" You cried, kneeling by the bed side floor, "Hyunjin, please, hold on."

The room was empty except for the three of you. The furniture was broken and burnt and cupboards were clearly forced open.

"Did you give them the keys?" Yeji asks him, sobbing, "Mother died to protect those keys."

He coughs and leans into you, "I've alarmed the military. They are on their way."

"The rebels will be coming back too." He coughs again, "The keys are behind the painting in my study. Save them Yeji, run, now."

Yeji steadies herself as she gets up, "Come on, y/n. He said they might come back. "

Oh, but how could you? How could you leave the love of your life to bleed to his death alone while you escaped?

Moreover, this was the tragic end of your daydream, wasn't it? Dying together while Yeji survives and continues to rule the country.

"Go, Yeji, " you tell her, over the noise of the blood coursing through your ears, you hear footsteps, "Now!"

Yeji is a smart girl, you realize. With a hand over her mouth to suppress her sobs, she runs out of the room, without turning back even once.

When she is out of sight, Hyunjin fumbles to find your hand in the darkness. He's cold and stiff.

"If I disappear today, promise me you will find me. Promise me, please y/n." He manages to say.

You kiss his hand softly as the footsteps get closer, tears streaming down your face.

"I will find you. In every universe, in every timeline. I will find you, my love. " you say as you find a metallic taste in your tears and your vision goes black.

*

After what feels like a millennia, the darkness around you is finally replaced by a bright light.

It is too bright, but when you see a familiar face, your discomfort vanishes.

"Lia!" You throw yourself onto your napping friend, "Lia! Oh, I'm so happy to see you."

Lia though surprised at your outburst, returns your embrace with equal enthusiasm.

"I missed you too, y/n." She says, "I didn't know that picture would have such an impact on you. I was so scared when you passed out!"

Picture? What picture?

And suddenly, all the memories play in your mind like an old film. It's hazy, but you know what's going on.

You see blood, a crown, burning curtains, and..a blonde prince.

Hwang Hyunjin.

"Lia..", you sigh, your heart aching terribly, "How long have I been out?"

"Like around 36 hours or so. I don't remember. "She replies.

36 hours in this world and you'd already spent a lifetime in another. How utterly tragic.

"Y/n, what's wrong? You're tearing up." Lia says, offering you a tissue, "Are you in pain?"

You sigh, "Yes. I am in extreme pain, Lia. How could life have been so, so unfair to us?"

Lia gives you a confused nod, not really sure what had exactly led you to believe that life had been unfair to you.

"Y/n, what-"

Lia is cut off by a knock on the door.

"Ah. That must be the doctor." Lia jogs towards the door, "Just a second, Dr. Seo!"

"Um, hello," the doctor greets, "Dr. Seo is in urgent surgery. He sent me in his place to check on the patient. "

When the doctor steps in closer, your breathing gets stuck in your throat.

Of course, you know this man. How could you not?

You'd died with him in another world, in another time, in another life.

You'd loved him.

"I'm Dr. Hwang, Miss Y/n." The doctor says, a familiar expression on his face. He looks rather delighted to see you.

"I feel like I've seen you somewhere before." He chuckles to himself as he sits on the chair by your hospital bed.

"Yes, me too." These are the only words you manage to say.

[ships-n-bats]

Putting under read more 'cause it kind of turned out way longer than intended and has big images attached. ^^'

Warning: I literally am reviewing and judging sketches Kub0 drew of the Ichi//Hime fam post-manga and just being critical of I//H as a whole.

“Kub0 has yet to release any artwork of the Ichi//Hime family together!”

I just recently recalled this statement made years ago by anti I//Hs and became rather curious over whether or not this statement was still true or not. It’s been about 8+ years since the manga ended and I//H became canon with their mini-me child being revealed alongside. So, out of genuine curiosity, I decided to see if Kub0 had since drawn the I//H family in any capacity.

Only to discover that, nope, he indeed had not.

The closest I could find of any drawings made by Kub0 that involved Ichig0's family post-manga were these two sketches he made:

A sketch of Ichig0 and Kαzui with Kub0's signature.

And the pic he drew of Ichig0 with Kαzui during quarantine (which I will admit is super adorable omg).

Two pictures featuring a father and his son.

But! You'll notice with both of these sketches, 0rihime is missing. You know, the wife of Ichig0 and mother to said child?? She's not so much as shown in the background or right there alongside her husband and kid! She's just, not present what-so-ever...

And the saddest part? When I tried searching for any sketches Kub0 made of Kαzui with 0rihime, nothing came up. Not a single sketch featuring mother and son. I only found those two pics of Kαzui with his father. That's it.

And there wasn't a single sketch that had all three of them together.

The closest I could find was of an edited version of the quarantine pic an I//H fan drew where they added 0rihime in. That's right, an I//H fan had to add 0rihime into the sketch in order to get a proper Ichi//Hime family pic, because Mr. Tite Kub0 couldn't be bothered to do so himself in the first place. I also found other edited pics that just took separate pics of the three and mashed them together, which is just... sad.

I think the closest there's been to the three being seen together as a family was in the manga and even that is a bit of a stretch.

This then led me to see if Kub0 had since drawn Ichig0 and 0rihime together and came up with two more sketches:

A sketch of the two standing next to each other, looking at one another.

Another sketch of the two's portraits.

And just like with the previous two pics, I noticed something about both pics. In the first one, 0rihime and Ichig0 are keeping a distance between themselves, and the sketch overall is rather simplistic and not really readable. I can barely make out either of their expressions, though 0rihime looks shocked? Confused?? idk Meanwhile, Ichig0 looks either blank or irritated? He might be talking to her??

As for the second sketch, Ichig0 looks like he had more time and effort put into his portrait, while 0rihime looks thrown in last second. Given how much bigger Ichig0 is, it gives off the impression that Kub0 drew a pic of Ichig0 first, and then added 0rihime off to the side, in the background, which explains why she's so small and seems tacked on. You can essentially remove her from the sketch entirely as she doesn't look part of it as a whole.

Also, this same sketch had an I//H shipper tack on Kαzui to try and make it a family pic, just like with the other one.

Despite Kub0 canonizing Ichig0 and 0rihime as a married couple with a kid, despite it being nearly a decade now, despite I//H shippers asking Kub0 to give more details about how the two got together and what their relationship is like as a family and couple, he still hasn't bothered to actually give the Ichi//Hime fam any proper spotlight.

I hate bringing up other mangas for comparison, but even Nαruto, despite its own controversial ending and endgame ships, showcased some sweet family moments with their next gen families and even had cute couple-y moments between the endgame pairs. Kishim0t0 at least bothered to put some effort into trying to sell his endgame ships to fans. Meanwhile, Kub0 has left I//H high and dry of any basic domestic fluff.

And honestly?

I just find that to be plain sad. Sad that even though a pairing is made canon, is made to be married with a child, there's still this lack of intimacy between the two. Yes, many I//H antis have pointed out how much Ichig0 and 0rihime lacked development and intimacy prior to the ending, but it's post-ending where I feel the failure of I//H really comes to ahead.

I//H stans tend to use Ichig0 and 0rihime's marriage and product of their consummation as a crutch or a "got'cha" to prove them being canon somehow means they're a perfect pairing. But it really doesn't mean anything if there's no real intimacy outside of a legal piece of paper and offspring. Those two things don't prove anything and shouldn't be used as evidence for a happy, healthy relationship.

Because, despite what is believed by many, a marriage and kids does not automatically translate to a good relationship. People can be married with kids and still be unhappy or lack real closeness or intimacy in their relationship. Just like how the alternative (i.e. not married and no kids), can mean a happy and close relationship. Basically, a marriage and children are not required nor are proof of a happy, healthy relationship.

Kub0 himself has already proven to me that he doesn't even care about Ichi//Hime as a pairing, despite the marriage and kid. He hasn't shown that Ichig0 and 0rihime are close and seems to actively avoid drawing the family together, leading the fans to do so for him out of desperation. He was more than happy to show 0rihime's one-sided devotion towards Ichig0 throughout the manga, but never bothered to show Ichig0 ever returning those feelings, and then just ended with the two married with a son. Only later offhandedly mentioning that the two got together sometime after university when a fan asked him about it. And Ichig0 had to be prompted by his friends to make a move on her, not because he did so on his own accord.

Ichi//Hime may be endgame canon, but it's still hollow and empty.

Update 7/9/24

I had actually forgotten about another pic Kub0 did and was only recently reminded of it by a twt user.

The pic features Ichig0, Rukiα, Ichikα, and Kαzui altogether.

And I have to agree with the twt user’s assessment on it, it does look like an accidental family pic. I can totally see some people who aren’t familiar with Bleαch taking this out of context and mistaking Rukiα and Ichig0 as the parents. It’s a very cute and silly sketch too, with Rukiα and Kαzui messing around with Ichig0 and Ichikα dealing with their antics. An overall happy, wholesome pic.

Which makes the fact that Kub0 drew Rukiα alongside Kαzui and not his own mother, 0rihime, all the more noticeable and depressing. It really does feel like Kub0 is actively avoiding making any happy I//H fam material. He always falls back on drawing Ichig0 and Rukiα together (which he has admitted to enjoy doing).

[redhead-batgal]

I hope you do oh miss believer part 3 sometime soon! It’s ok if you’re not feeling that story anymore tho <3

Type: Fic

Part One: Here, Part Two: Here

Pairing: Fem! Vigilante! And Meta! Reader x Damian Wayne/ Robin

Content: Violence, language, flash backs, depressive thoughts, angst, and aged up Damian/reader to 16/17 yrs old

Word Count: 2,573

(P.S: Soooo I can try to write a reaction of the bat fam to the end of part one, or I can write the next part of this one next time. Let me know what y'all want in the comments please! also get ready for some fun angsty angsty times)

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

There are many things in this world that seem unnatural. Paradoxes or impossibilities. People tend to fear the unnatural, to ostracize it and even harm it. Regardless of whether or not said impossible and unnatural thing is living- regardless of if it's human.

To humanity, unnatural things were to be feared and destroyed. They were threats, in a way, to the "peaceful" society that had been created through blood shed and inequality. A society that has classes and impoverished people that kept growing and growing; saw things they deemed unnatural not worthy of life. Why is that? Why does such a society fear so greatly the unnatural, the unknown and impossible?

It seemed to you that they feared the unnatural because the power of mystery gave it. Because what they do not know, they cannot control. And if they can't control something, it cannot be a part of society. Which unfortunately meant you were left on your own; fighting to survive against an environment that deemed you a danger. Even more unfortunately, for society at least, you had bad habit of becoming everything everyone feared you'd be.

An unnatural danger, set on destroy the society that cast it out.

How very, very natural, right?

You could still remember the very first time someone deemed you unnatural- unworthy of comfort in this shitty shitty world.

You must have been no older then six, out scrounging on the streets for pity coin you could use to help your parents out. A rattied hat made from old newspaper by your side as you made your misty and small illusions appear. Desperate for anyone to take an interest. Unsurprisingly, the person who did was anything but kind and far from merciful.

The small boy had shouted at you, laughed, sneered and beaten you to a bloodied pulp. Stealing all of the meager change you had managed to earn as he called you a witch over his shoulder bolting away.

While this was your first actual encounter with such people, you were not surprised. Your mother had warned you of such people.

"Vicious monsters," She had said beginning to explain why you had to be careful in the world, "they like to prey upon those they deem weaker, those who they think are unnatural and strange."

She shook her head as she continued to knit, though somewhat sloppily, "They don't like people who they can't control, they don't like that you're different."

You looked up at her with wide eyes as you tilted your head and she paused. She let out a soft sigh before setting down her knitting and pulling you into her arms.

"My sweet little miss believer, this world is going to be cruel to you simply because you exist. There's nothing your father or I can do to stop it other then pulling you in close like this and letting you know they are wrong."

She rested your head against her chest as she began to rock slightly squeezing you in her arms as she softly began to hum.

"They are wrong because you are a darling gem. A wise and wonderful girl who should not let the world push you down."

Cupping your face in her hands she smiled, tears lining her eyes, "You are my little miss believer, you know many things and have such faith. Do not allow these people to cause you to lose that faith. Faith in your father and I, faith in humanity, faith in your own skills or just merely faith in yourself."

Her words rang far too deep into the truth. Scars, both physical and emotions covered your body the older you got. But you still had your mother and father there, to nurse your spirit back to its brightness... until you didn't anymore.

The night was dark and growing colder and colder by the minute. Your father had disappeared merely a week before and you did not plan on letting him stay gone without answers.

Lurking around the usual street corners you heard the crackling of thunder and through the dense musty smell of Gotham's streets, you could smell rain. Sweet and clear, dancing in the clouds yearning to be released. Pulling your jacket in closer, you slipped down an alleyway, hoping to find answers and remain unseen. After all you had a reputation for causing trouble amongst the rouges and criminals, and tonight was the last night you needed trouble to catch you once again.

Though you had not heard of any rogues causing any chaos, you knew better then to trust the night would remain silent. It's current silence sent shivers down your spine. Silence was a deadly tool, used to confused and trick the naive into false senses of security. It was a tool you yourself had used and yet- something about tonight's silence made you on edge.

Looking around you almost sensed danger as the hairs on your arms stood on edge. Your heart racing as the silence screamed into your mind. Just as you had settled with yourself to finally venture home, a hand clamped down on your shoulder.

A shriek of sorts almost escaped you and you turned to find your fuming mother.

"Y/n! I thought I told you to be home before eleven?"

Though startled you merely blinked, allowing your mother to drag you back down the alleyway, towards the way home. Your heart hammered in your chest. Regardless of all your broken promises to come home on time, your mother had never- ever come out looking for you.

"Mom," You said, finally finding your voice, "what are you doing out here?!"

Your mother froze tilting her head a scowl of sorts on her face with dropped almost instantly. She let go of your hand and slowed to a stop, looking you over she sighed, taking a moment to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"I was worried, I heard that one of the nastier rouges was out tonight and I didn't want you to be out."

At first a wave of warmth washed over you. It, however, turned icy cold as you processed the rest of your mother's sentence.

'One of the nastier rouges'

Your heart skipped a beat and you grasped onto your mother's hand. Swallowing you met her gaze and forced a slow breath out.

"Mom, which one did you hear was out?"

It took her a moment to reply, as her brow furrowed, and she squeezed your hand.

"The Joker."

Your heart actually stopped, you struggled to breath as news reports and alley whispers raced over your mind.

"I heard that the bats pissed joker off so he's shooting for a big one this time."

"I heard that he lost Batman's attention and wants it back."

"Well, I heard that he's finally sick of his cat and mouse game and plans on taking as many civilians as possible with him when he goes."

Finally breathing again, you pulled your mother forward. Heart racing as your mind screamed to run. Your legs began to pump, your mother stumbling to keep up behind you her soft protests barely catching your ears.

"Shit- oh shit, mom we've gotta go."

You had just come up on a corner, knowing once you went down the alley just by here, you'd be two blocks from your complex. It didn't help though, your heart hammered to quickly you could hear your own heartbeat without even thinking about it.

"What? Honey," Your mom began shaking her head and causing you to stop, "it's fine we're almost home and-"

Your mouth began moving before you could stop yourself and you began pulling her again, finally rounding the corner, "No mom you don't understand this guy has been amping up his attacks recently and-"

Just as you did you came face to face with a goon in white makeup and a sinister red smile. He raised something strange, and time seemed to slow as you heard him pressing on a trigger.

"Y/N!" Your mother's shout echoed in your ears as she shoved you to the side.

You tumbled towards the ground screams ripping from you as you watched a fine mist encompass her entire face, "MOM NO!"

The mist faded as a blurry figure slammed the goon into the ground. Your mother slumped slightly as you darted to her side, her body shook, and you looked her over trying to find any damage only to hear a bone chilling sound.

"Ha-ha-ha."

You trembled as your mother raised her head, a large sinisterly familiar smile on her face.

"Mommy? Mommy, no. Please, no. NO!"

A jolt of sorts raced through you as you opened your eyes. A bright light slamming straight into them and sending spots racing across your vision.

"Aw, look," A mocking voice began, "our little Houdini's finally awake."

A piercing ache began at the base of your skull as you forced yourself to sit up. Faintly recalling your last moments, as rain poured down and you made the choice to finally let go.

Blinking you pressed a hand to your face, a sloshing of sorts following you as you found yourself immersed in a small pool of greenish water. Wincing you tried to look around the room- to understand where you were and what was going on.

Your eyes slowly adjusted, revealing that you were in a small cavern of sorts. A woman in a strange outfit stood nearby as a man in a dark clothing loomed over you. You watched as the woman motioned at someone just beyond your view muttering things you could not here.

"Hello there little one," the man began capturing your attention, "I am glad to see you're awake."

You swallowed feeling the headache fade slightly as you shifted. These people and this place did not seem familiar. You too a slow breath looking down to see your own hands and body before looking back up.

"Who are you?" You whispered, your voice cracking, throat dry and aching.

The man smiled, but something about it made you uneasy. He merely stared at you, replying, "A doctor of sorts."

You paused furrowing your brow, "So I'm not dead?"

The man- doctor- whatever he was laughed as he took a step back. Making temporary eye contact with the woman behind him. She had an odd look about her and you could have sworn you spotted a cat like mask before the man captured your attention again.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," You replied wincing again as you stepped out of the pool rising to your feet, "is that normal?"

He tilted his head, "In a sense yes."

His short responses had your mind racing, he was being so vague and something- something about all of this just seemed off.

"Uh okay. Then is fine to assume I'll get better right?"

The man nodded as the woman smiled at you. You narrowed still not entirely understanding what was going on or what had happened. You were sure that the fall would have kill you and- and you could still remember the impact.

"Wha-" You began as a wave of defenseness washed over you, "what is going on?"

"Whatever do you mean little Houdini?" The woman asked her eyes glinting.

"Who are you? Where am I? How am I still alive? And what the fuck happened?"

Your demand echoed in the cave like chamber causing the woman to smile even more. She even began to laugh and the man stepped in-between the two of you.

"Just please calm yourself, Y/N L/N. All will be explained soon."

You locked your jaw, a buzzing of sorts climbing up your chest as you began to grind your teeth. Tingles raced across your hand, a tell tale sign your body yearned to release some engery. To produce the false images and twist the illusions into exsistance.

"When?"

The man paused before the sound of footsteps approached. He went still and so did the woman behind him. A wave of fury rose up in your chest, were you such a fuck up you even fucked up dying? Was it possible that something else was going on? Regardless of your current internal turmoil you needed answers.

"Would someone please answer my fucking questions?!"

Just as your frustrated shout escaped a new woman walked into the room. she breezed past the first and stopped right in front of you. Allowing you to get a good look of her and a better grasp of the situation. She was dressed in a green and gold trimmed dress, her dark brown hair spilling around her face, dark skin and sharp bone structure that screamed Arabic descent. And her eyes, her bright- familiar green eyes stared at you with a curious gaze.

"I would be happy to, Y/N."

Something about her- whether be her eyes, her voice or face- something seemed familiar- so familiar you let your guard down.

"Where am I?"

The woman smiled, "Safe in my home."

It wasn't entirely a bad answer, but once again a vague one. And despite your concerns on where you were at you had to know one thing.

"How did I survive that fall? I just can't wrap my head around it."

The woman went still before she softly laughed moving a bit closer to you, "You didn't."

You froze as you answer caused your breath to stop, "What?"

"You didn't survive. In fact, that fall killed you, you died."

"But- wha- how? Am, am I dead?"

"Not anymore, but you were."

"I was- what do you mean I was dead? How can that be possible?"

The woman's smile deepened, and she took a step even closer, "You're not asking the right questions."

Grinding your teeth, you met her gaze and raised your chin frustration and desperation climbing up your throat, "Fine, who are you then?"

"Much better, I am Talia."

Something about that name set off warning bells in your head and your stiffened, allowing your guard to rise as you eyed the woman.

"Where am I? I want specifics."

"The league."

Your blood went cold as a realization began to dawn on you, "The league?"

"Yes, the league; assassins, shadows, what have you. You, are at one of the bases for the League."

"And- and-"

"I am Talia Al Ghul, and I brought you back to life."

You went still as everything began to click into place. The green water, the man and woman nearby, the vagueness- how you are alive, and you looked at Talia swallowing. The familiarity. This was Damian's mother, the person who you died trying to run from.

"You brought me back with the pit?" You whispered your voice trembling and cracking.

"Unbeknown to my beloved, son and the rest of his rabble, yes... so any more questions?"

You swallowed as your world began to scream and burn as it crashed down. They- they thought- no they knew you had died and- and no one would come save you this time. You were on your own you were alone.

You shook your head, refusing to let your voice tremble, "No."

"Good, because I have a lot of work for you..." Talia paused looking over her shoulder to the other woman, "what did cheshire call you? Ah, yes. Little Houdini."

Digging your nails into your palm you tried to calm your breathing as Talia tucked your hair behind your ear smiling.

"Let's get to work my Little Houdini."

Tag List:

@andromedaj2003 @thomasbeloved @instabull @zvtanna @daemonnix96 @krswrites @thefallingstarlights @masset-fotia @rrowwii @ssak-i @legendarylearner18

[praxeus-13]

Secrets

Pairing: Dh!Master x Reader

Word Count: 4900

Summary: The Doctor and the fam are hanging out on the TARDIS one day when they realise they haven’t seen you or The Master all day, none of them quite expect the sight that greets them when they find you.

Warnings: none

A/N: Reader is gender neutral in this. Also yay! I finally have time to write and post! I have a lot of fics planned, so hopefully I’ll be able to find the time to write them over winter break, tho I do have a shit ton of uni work still to do 😅

It was quiet, that wasn’t completely unusual on the TARDIS, but considering the recent addition of The Master to Team TARDIS it had The Doctor on edge. He’d begrudgingly joined them on their adventures after The Doctor had come across him moping about at the edge of a deserted galaxy, The Master hadn’t even been destroying anything, he was just sitting all alone on what he’d called an unimportant planet. The Doctor, of course, had been concerned by his uncharacteristic behaviour and had forced encouraged him to join them aboard the TARDIS. Understandably, her fam had objected, especially after he started to occupy himself by finding as many ways to inconvenience her friends as possible.

It had been eight months since The Master had joined them, and he had yet to stop annoying Graham, Ryan and Yaz - despite the numerous interventions and talks she had had with him about it. Much to The Doctor’s surprise, she never found you complaining about The Master’s antics, though she had suspected that he had developed a bit of a soft spot for you. After all, you had been the first out of her friends to welcome him - probably helped by the fact that you joined the group after The Master revealed himself, and thus only met him eight months back.

Recently The Doctor realised that she’d grown used to this new normal, that she was used to the occasional yelling of her friends after The Master had yet again hid half of their clothes, or simply jump-scared them - often accompanied by The Master’s maniacal laughter. However, she had yet to hear anything like that this morning, not one complaint about missing items from her fam, not one cackle out of The Master, she hadn’t even seen anyone all morning.

It was almost peaceful.

Which definitely meant that something was wrong.

Quickly The Doctor got up, abandoned her tools, and headed in the direction of the kitchen. It was about lunchtime, which meant that her friends would probably be gathered together making food, she just hoped that one of them would have seen The Master. Of course, she’d usually just ask the TARDIS where he was, but the circuits she’d been upgrading were the internal communication circuits, so that was currently out of the question.

“FAM!” The Doctor exclaimed as soon as she rounded the corner, standing dramatically in the doorway to the kitchen.

All of her friends had startled as soon as she appeared, it made her feel bad, but she currently had more pressing matters to focus on.

“Have any of you seen The Master today?!”

“…uh, no?” Ryan was the first to answer, still looking a little shocked from her entrance but trying to play it cool.

Graham took a dramatic sigh before answering, “Not yet luckily.”

“I haven’t either, why’re you asking?” Yaz replied, pausing making her lunch and turning all of her attention to The Doctor.

“It’s quiet, too quiet, and I haven’t seen him since last night. Which most likely means that he’s up to something.”

Graham groaned, “Why do we have to assume he’s up to something? Can’t we at least wait until after lunch to assume he’s doing something evil?”

The Doctor simply gave him a look, causing him to groan again, though he put his sandwich down. However she was quickly distracted by a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, she was missing something, something obvious. She looked back at her friends, and then she realised.

“Where’s Y/N?”

Her friends seemed to only notice your absence once it was pointed out, all looking around the room before looking back at The Doctor with blank faces.

“I haven’t seen them since last night.” Yaz told her.

“Me neither.” Ryan and Graham agreed with her.

Suddenly The Doctor felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. You were clearly The Master’s favourite out of the fam, what if he’d done something to you? Naively, The Doctor had hoped he was developing a soft spot for you - but what if it was simply an obsession? What if this had been his plan all along, to get close enough to harm you?

The fam seemed to come to a similar conclusion, horror dawning on all their faces.

“You don’t think-“

The Doctor didn’t give Ryan an answer, just turned around and ran through the TARDIS halls. She’d been at the TARDIS console most of the night, so at least she knew the two of you were still on board. Her first instinct was to head to the library, both you and The Master spent a fair amount of time there, it would have been the perfect place for an ambush.

The Doctor slowed once she entered the library, and she could hear the footsteps of her fam slow down as well. The library was surprisingly quiet as well, but The Doctor was still on edge. The fam followed her and she weaved her way through the aisles, coming to a sudden stop right before the rows of bookshelves gave way to one of the reading areas.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted them. On one of the plush purple sofas The Master was laying down, fast asleep. That in itself would have been enough to shock The Doctor. However he wasn’t alone, you were laying next to him, curled into his side and fast asleep as well.

Huh.

The Doctor had known that The Master was developing a soft spot for you, but she definitely didn’t suspect anything like this. It was almost cute.

“Are they- Are they actually cuddling?” Graham was the first to speak, slightly startling the rest of them despite his voice being barely above a whisper.

“Uhhh… yeah, certainly seems like it.”

“Does anyone else think this is horrifying yet adorable?” Yaz queried, gaining agreement from the rest of them. “Glad it’s not just me.”

“What do we do? Do we wake them up?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, what if he’s done that hypno- whatsit on Y/N?” Graham butted in.

“Hypnotism, I mean it would be a very odd thing to hypnotise Y/N to do, but we can’t rule it out I suppose.” The Doctor’s thoughts were zipping around in her brains, desperately trying to find all the signs she missed.

And there was so much she missed.

The Master’s ‘practical jokes’ had been lessening lately - both in frequency and maliciousness. The Doctor had chalked this up to him finally starting to settle in properly, but maybe that was the result of him spending more time with you? She hadn’t seen you around as much either, but with four humans plus The Master on board, she had hardly noticed. Then, the most obvious, there was the fact that the two of you had started to pair off more on adventures. Honestly, she had just thought that you were becoming good friends!

Maybe you were just friends? After all, friends were allowed to hug each other. Sure, the position you were in definitely leant more towards romantic entanglement rather than platonic, but that didn’t always mean something.

Just when The Doctor was about to reply, she and the fam were distracted by movement on the couch. You stretched slightly, but then snuggled even closer to The Master, your face smushing into his neck as you smiled. In turn The Master hummed contentedly, somehow bringing you even closer and wrapping his arms around you protectively. The Doctor could have sworn she saw a smile on his face.

Okay, probably not just friends.

The Doctor didn’t know what to do, she hadn’t considered this possibility. Regrettably, she was not prepared for The Master being romantically involved with you at all, which meant that she needed time to think. Putting a finger up to her lips, she turned to her companions and gestured for them to return the way they had came. For now, you and The Master had no clue that the rest of them knew about whatever was going on between the two of you. So, she had time to think, to observe the two of you, to find out if he was hypnotising or manipulating you, or if whatever this was was something genuine on both your parts.

Once they were back out in the hallway The Doctor explained everything to the other members of the fam, all of them agreeing to keep an eye on the two of you. The Doctor then walked off back to the console room, she needed to be alone with her thoughts for a little while.

——

You were warm and cosy, that was what you registered first. Of course, it wasn’t unusual to be warm and cosy when you woke up, but these days it was a new constant in your life, all because of one (alien) man. The Master.

When he had come onboard the TARDIS eight months ago you, you would have never imagined how your relationship developed. He’d pissed you off at first, especially since most of his ‘pranks’ had been directed at you. Once he had decided to take all of your jumpers and hoodies, just after you had returned from a particularly frosty adventure in Antarctica, causing you to confront him.

“You!” You sneered accusingly at The Master, who was lounged on one of the sofas in the library.

He placed his book down and raised an eyebrow, “Can I help you?”

“Give me my jumpers and hoodies back, now.” You tried to sound demanding, but you were still shivering from the lingering cold.

“No.” He smirked at you.

“No? What do you mean no?! I’m cold! I need layers to keep warm!” You pouted at him, unable to keep up the scary demeanour.

He chuckled slightly, “Well, that’s easily solved.” And then he lifted up the blanket that was laying over him and shuffled to make room for you.

You simply stood there in shock, not quite believing that The Master of all beings was inviting you to cuddle with him!

“Come on love, if you stand there any longer you’ll probably end up freezing to death.”

Hesitantly, you stepped closer and closer to the sofa, until you were stood inches from The Master, looking down at him. He offered his hand to you, and you gave him yours in turn. Then, slowly, he pulled you down into his hold, and covered you with the blanket. With his warmth enveloping you, you soon stopped shivering, though you didn’t leave him.

After that, cuddles in the TARDIS library became a regular for the two of you, soon turning into cuddles and kisses in your respective bedrooms, sneakily holding hands on adventures, and being there for one another behind closed doors. You loved him, not that you had told him yet, but you truly did.

Part of your hesitancy towards telling him was due to the fact that you were still keeping your relationship hidden from your friends. It wasn’t as though you didn’t want to tell your friends, you just didn’t know how to tell them, and you were scared for their reactions.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind you stretched and finally opened your eyes. Your first sight was The Master, still asleep, and you took a moment to appreciate him. Then you took in your surroundings and your heart leapt in your chest as you realised you had fallen asleep in the library, where anyone could have walked in.

“Master.” You shook him slightly.

He woke with a questioning hum, sleepy eyes looking at you with curiosity.

“We fell asleep in the library.” You half-whispered.

“…And?” The Master replied.

“Anyone could have walked in and seen us!”

“Mm, but they didn’t love, otherwise we would have been woken up.” He told you, his voice still rough from sleep, as he pulled you closer again.

You didn’t reply, instead giving him a worried look. He sighed and sat up, moving you with him.

“It’ll be okay love,” He cupped your face with both his hands, observing you until he seemed satisfied that you believed his words - and you did believe him, even if you needed a little reassurance sometimes.

The Master smiled at you, “Come on, shower and breakfast is in order.”

“More like brunch by now.” You retorted, checking your phone to see that it was already past 11am.

The Master chuckled and lead you out of the library.

——

In the past week, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, at least nothing that was out of the ordinary for your life. A couple of trips back in time, a couple adventures on distant planets, an ungodly amount of running, and sneaking into The Master’s bedroom once your friends had gone to sleep each night. Yep, completely ordinary week for you.

Which is why your friends’ strange behaviour made absolutely no sense.

You couldn’t quite explain it, but they’d been acting weird around you, jumpy as though they were keeping something from you. However there weren’t any holidays coming up and your birthday had already passed this year, so their weird behaviour was worrying you.

You’d tried asking all of them about it individually, The Doctor had pretended not to hear while doing some engineering on the TARDIS, and the other three had come up with various excuses that you didn’t believe. It frustrated you that something was wrong but they weren’t willing to tell you. Luckily, you still had one person on the TARDIS who wasn’t acting weird around you.

You knocked on The Master’s door and let yourself in. His living space was becoming one of your favourite rooms on the TARDIS, it had dark wood panelled walls and an overall regal look with lots of purple accents. There was also a lot of clutter, mostly little projects and pieces for said projects. Occasionally you’d ask him about whatever he was working on, and he’d talk you through his whole process (secretly you’d only ask him to hear his voice, but he didn’t need to know that). He’d also gotten used to you being in his rooms, hence why you walked right in.

The Master was sat on his couch, reading a book that he placed on an end table once he saw you.

“Hello, love.” He grinned at you, making room for you to sit down next to him.

“Hello Master,” You smiled at him, cuddling into his chest as he wrapped an arm around you.

He hummed and nuzzled your neck, “How are you today, my darling?”

The combination of the pet name and him speaking so close to your ear caused you to shiver. It almost got rid of the knot of worry that had nestled itself in you, almost. The Master seemed to notice something was wrong, as he pulled back slightly so he could look at you properly.

“Have you noticed the others being kind of… off, this week?” You queried, not quite knowing how to word it.

“Quite honestly love, I don’t pay much attention to anyone else on this ship.” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes.

“You and I both know that’s not true, you may not like Ryan, Graham or Yaz, but they’re still my friends - which means you still keep an eye on them at the very least.” You retorted.

“Mmm, you know me so well.” He leaned in to kiss your cheek, causing you to relax further into him.

It had surprised you, at first, just how physically affectionate The Master was. You’d assumed after the first cuddle session that it would be a one off, that he’d kill you if you ever mentioned it to anyone (not that they’d believe you), but he’d only gotten more and more cuddly as your relationship had grown.

“Okay, yes, I have noticed they were behaving stranger than usual this week. I’d just assumed it was something to do with me, and I didn’t care enough to find out what.”

“Definitely not just you, they’ve been weird around me too. I tried to ask them what was wrong but they all made up little excuses and scurried off. The Doctor even pretended she didn’t hear me!” You exclaimed gesturing wildly, “I just- they’re my friends, and I’ve obviously done something to upset them, but I don’t know what!”

You flopped back into The Master’s hold and sighed, for a moment he simply held you close, rubbing circles on your back.

“Look, whatever it is they’ll probably get over it soon enough. It can’t be that bad if they’re still talking to you.” He reassured you, already helping you feel much calmer than you had all week.

“But, what if they found out about us somehow?”

“The Doctor probably would have kicked me off the TARDIS already love, and your friends would have helped her.” You glared at him, unamused.

“No they wouldn’t, I wouldn’t let them.”

The Master’s expression softened.

“Of course not love, I’m just teasing. I’m sure that whatever it is will be forgotten about soon enough.”

“Hopefully.”

“In the meantime, would it perhaps help if I could take your mind off them for a while?” The Master suggested, leaning in to kiss you again.

“Hmm, I think it might.” You replied with a giggle, kissing him back eagerly.

——

As The Master had predicted, your friends soon went back to normal. You still had no clue what had caused their strange behaviour, but you didn’t bring it up again. Instead you focused on your adventures and your relationship with The Master, separately of course.

After a few rather hectic adventures, The Doctor had decided that you all needed a bit of a break, in the form of a 38th century cruise spaceship. The Doctor had explained that there were many fun activities taking place on the cruise, but the main one was the ball. An evening of dancing, eating and socialising to help you and the rest of the fam relax a bit.

You were all looking forward to it, and you could tell The Master was excited too - not that he acted like it. Sometimes you thought he tried a little too hard to protect his reputation, but then you remembered just how lucky you were that he allowed you to see the real him when so many others were denied the chance.

Currently, you were in the TARDIS wardrobe getting ready for the ball with the others. You had elected to wear a simple black suit with a dark purple lining and accents, partially because you liked the look of it, and partially because you thought it would go with whatever The Master decided to wear. You may be hiding your relationship from your friends, but you still wanted the subtle sign that he was yours (and you were his in turn). Exiting your dressing room you smiled at Graham and The Doctor, both wearing suits as well.

“Nice suit, it suits you!” The Doctor told you, looking very pleased with her terrible pun.

You rolled your eyes and huffed out a laugh while Graham simply groaned. Ryan exited next, wearing a suit as well, tho it had a neon-coloured cubic pattern speckled over it. Then The Master exited.

He was wearing a black suit as well, though it had flowers embroidered in dark grey thread on it. He’d paired it with a reddish-purple waistcoat, a matching bow tie, and a dark grey shirt. He looked stunning, and in that moment you found yourself yearning for the freedom of a more public relationship, simply so you could tell him just how good you thought he looked. Instead you raked your eyes over his body and gave him an appreciative look, knowing he’d understand.

To your surprise he seemed to do the same to you, his eyes studying your appearance in a way that made you blush slightly, and giving you a far more suggestive look than you had given him. He was usually very subtle about your relationship, especially in front of The Doctor, but you weren’t going to complain in this moment.

Just then Yaz walked out of her dressing room, though your eyes lingered on The Master for a few moments longer. Taking advantage of the distraction, The Master winked at you, causing you to grin coyly before finally turning your attention to Yaz.

She was wearing a lovely rose gold coloured dress, it wasn’t overly flashy or attention grabbing, but you knew she’d still get a fair amount of admiration at the ball (though you suspected most of that would come from The Doctor).

The Doctor soon lead you all out of the wardrobe into the console room, piloting to your destination. You gazed in awe at the ship once the doors opened, it was decorated in a baroque-esque style and almost made you feel as though you didn’t quite belong in the ship. Still, you followed The Doctor through the hallways until you came to the ballroom. It was stunning, the room itself had the same baroque-esque look to it, though it was even more extravagant. Instinctively, you looked back to The Master and grinned, gaining a soft smile in return.

“Alright fam, all the food and drink should be good for human consumption - but if you’re unsure just ask! Let’s say two hours of mingling, then we’ll reconvene back here?” The Doctor addressed you all, gaining agreement before everyone started to dart off in different directions.

You had hoped that you would get some time alone with The Master, unfortunately it seemed that Yaz had other ideas as she invited you over to the bar with her to get some drinks.

An hour later you had finally managed to ditch your friends, it wasn’t as though you didn’t like hanging out with them - of course you did - but at an event like this you’d rather spend time with your partner. Once you found him you felt yourself relax, previously unaware of how tense you’d been without him. Larger social gatherings like this definitely made you anxious, but having The Master by your side helped a lot, mostly because you knew he’d never let anything bad happen to you.

He smiled at you and then nodded his head to the entrance. Intrigued, you followed him as he lead you out of the ballroom.

“Where are we going, Master?” You queried, grabbing a hold of his hand.

“You’ll see.”

Eventually the two of you came to another ballroom, though it was completely empty. There was a layer of dust over every surface, giving you the impression that this room hadn’t been used in a long time. The distant music from the party echoed through the halls into the ballroom giving it a haunted feel, but not a creepy kind of haunted, mor like the sort of haunted feeling you got from a placed that had so clearly been loved once, as though that love and warmth was still living in the walls.

After looking around the room you turned back to The Master, only to find him stood with one hand behind his back and the other stretched out towards you.

“Care to dance, my love?” He asked you charmingly, causing you to blush wildly.

“Of course, Master.” You replied, taking his hand eagerly and grinning.

He pulled you in close and began to guide you through a waltz, in time with the music from the ballroom. In that moment you felt as though you could spend the rest of your life with him, even if it was just the two of you alone in the universe, you’d always feel content by his side. That realisation seemed to finally give you the boost of confidence you had needed.

“I love you.”

The Master stopped dancing, looking at you with a mix of shock and awe.

“What?”

“I love you, Master. You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know.” You told him truthfully.

“I love you too, so much.” He replied, grinning wide with tears in his eyes.

The Master leant in to kiss you, and your lips met his halfway. You’d kissed him hundreds of times before, but this time felt different, it felt perfect. The two of you started dancing again, still keeping in time with the music but completely lost in each other’s presence. The Master moved his arm around your waist, you rested your head on his shoulder and let the world fall away around the two of you.

——

The Doctor had been keeping a close eye on both you and The Master in the past few weeks, and to her surprise she had seen nothing sinister, nothing potentially dangerous. In fact, all she had seen was subtle glances and secretive smiles between the two of you, she’d caught both of you looking at the other while they were distracted, and neither of you had anything but love to look at each other with. On one occasion she’d even seen the two of you holding hands when faced with a particularly terrifying enemy!

The Doctor had known The Master for nearly his whole life, and therefore always knew that he had a softer side to him. What she never expected was for him to develop feelings for a human, considering his general hatred of Earth’s sentient inhabitants. She’d had her reservations at first, knowing full well that whatever was going on between the two of you could just be another one of his schemes. However, given how secretive the two of you were, and all the little interactions she’d witnessed, The Doctor believed that The Master had genuine feelings for you.

Nevertheless, The Doctor had continued to keep on the eye on the two of you - just in case. Therefore, she noticed pretty quickly when the both of you disappeared from the ballroom. At the end of the day The Master was still The Master, no matter how much progress he had seemed to make these past few months. Luckily, the rest of her fam had noticed your disappearances as well.

“Come on fam.” The Doctor started to lead the way out of the ballroom.

“Doc, are you sure we should go looking for them, I mean what if they’re, y’know…” Graham asked, looking rather uncomfortable.

“Snogging?” Ryan snickered.

“Yes, we should, because there’s still a chance that Y/N could be in danger.”

The Doctor continued on through the halls, looking through each of the rooms to see if she could find the two of you. Finally, she came to another ballroom and was surprised by the sight of the two of you slow dancing in each other’s arms.

Well, at least you weren’t in danger.

It seemed that she had sped off a bit too quickly, as Ryan, Graham and Yaz soon came jogging up behind her, startling both you and The Master (who hadn’t noticed her approach). For a few moments everyone stood and stared at each other in complete silence, no one knowing quite what to do. The Master still had his arms around your waist, and The Doctor could see that he tightened his grip on you, as though he was afraid you’d be taken from him.

You coughed, gaining everyone’s attention, “So, uhhh..”

“You two are together?” Yaz asked.

You looked to The Master and smiled softly, getting a small smile in return. “Yeah, we are.”

There was another moment of awkward silence before you spoke up again. “Wait, none of you seem surprised?”

“We caught you two sleeping on one of the library couches a couple weeks back.” Ryan told you, causing you to playfully hit The Master’s arm.

“I told you!”

The Master rolled his eyes, “How was I supposed to know? I was asleep as well!” He laughed along with you.

“Is that why you were all acting weird around us?” You queried.

“Yeah, sorry about that cockle, it was just a bit of a shock is all. Still is to be honest!” Graham chuckled, putting all of you at ease.

“How long have the two of you been together anyway?” Yaz asked.

“Uhh, just over four months now - right?” The Master nodded in response to your question.

“How did you two manage to keep it a secret for so long?” Ryan exclaimed.

“Lots of sneaking around, though it does help when your partner has alien hearing that’s at least 10 times better than humans’.” You replied, smirking in a way that showed how much you liked showing off about The Master.

On the way back to the TARDIS Graham, Ryan and Yaz asked you quite a lot of questions, most of which you answered happily while holding The Master’s hand. Despite having watched the two of you for the past few weeks to make sure this wasn’t just another one of The Master’s schemes, The Doctor finally felt as though she could relax. You were safe, and both of you were happy, she was glad that The Master had managed to find someone who he could be himself around, someone who he could love. Stopping just outside the TARDIS doors, you turned back to look at her.

“You’re alright with this, yeah?”

“You’re happy?” The Doctor asked, addressing the both of you.

“Very.” You replied, while The Master simply looked down at you and nodded.

“Good, I’m happy for you - both of you.” She made sure to address The Master, who looked slightly surprised before he rolled his eyes at her.

“Now, movie night?” She suggested, gaining nods of approval from everyone.

It was going to take some getting used to, but The Doctor was truly happy for the both of you. Later that evening she looked over to see that you had both fallen asleep in each other’s arms, she smiled looking at the two of you, glad you had each other.

[liquorisce]

shotgun kiss

rating: nsfw / E

pairing: eren x mikasa | read on ao3

summary: “Do you want a puff?” He should feel terrible, but the more she looks at him that way– sweet, trusting, he gives into the pulsing desire in his gut.

“I-I don’t really know how to,” -

“… I’ll teach you. Put in your mouth.” It sounds kind of crude the way he says it, makes her think of other things, memories from when they were a lot more intimate. He places the joint between her lips and says, “… Suck.”

a/n: ok so some of u tumblr fam have read parts of this before, but I have added about 2k+ of smut in celebration of kinktober, and it is now complete so yay!

She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. The minute she steps inside she’s overcome by how much she doesn’t fit in here.

(Maybe that’s why he left, why he doesn’t keep in touch— maybe she just doesn’t fit into his lifestyle anymore)

There are so many faces she doesn’t know, just a lot of people in varying styles of black, and some flashes of metal here and there.

There are some people on the couch crowding around the bong, and they seem to be playing some sort of game where people take hits from the bong depending on their answers.

There’s a couple in the corner making out, or maybe three of them she isn’t sure, who are only decent because of the way their hands cover each other up.

She’s certain she can feel eyes on her, and she cringes inwardly because she probably sticks out like a sore thumb - pale pink blouse and modest but figure-hugging denim. She looks almost virginal in this house.

Thankfully she knows this house - basement? - well enough to find her way to the kitchen, and she reaches for a glass of water, to calm herself down.

“… Sure you don’t want anything stronger?”

Gulping, she turns to face him, watching her with a detached expression. “… Eren.”

He looks every bit as handsome as she’d always thought he was, growing up. Except instead of his boyish enthusiasm, his green eyes glow with a sort of magnetic darkness, his willowy brown hair pulled up into a messy bun.

There’s a new tattoo that peaks out on his collarbones, some sort of wings that are still healing. “… I didn’t know you were having a party today.”

“Yeah,” he walks towards her, “… I don’t recall inviting you.”

She winces at his not-so-subtle reminder that he doesn’t want her here. “So what did you come here for, since it’s certainly not to have fun? That’s not really your style, is it, Mikasa?”

His eyes give her a once over and she can’t tell if he’s displeased or just simply unreadable; she can’t tell a lot of things about Eren nowadays. He takes a puff from his joint, his perfect lips pursing for an exhale.

“What are you smoking?” She asks, trying to sound conversational. Her tone doesn’t sell it though.

His eyes narrow. “What does it matter? You’re just about to tell me a million reasons why I shouldn’t be doing it anyway.” His lips curve in a mocking smile.

She looks away from him. A huge part of her hates it, hates what he’s become, a boy who’d only wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, studied his ass off to get into med school only to drop out two years later. The last time she’d confronted it, she’d asked him how he even supported himself if he’d dropped out of school and quit his job. The grin he’d given her told her maybe it was better if she didn’t know how he made his money nowadays.

The smaller, more desperate part of her just wants to ignore all of it; she misses him, misses being a part of his life, and thinks maybe she could at least turn a blind eye to his self-destruction if she cannot save him from it.

“Maybe I just wanna try it,” she says defensively, not sounding convincing in the least.

He raises his eyebrows, his mouth twisting into a smirk. “… Yeah?”

She nods hesitantly, biting her lower lip as he moves closer to her, making her step back subconsciously against the counter. “Well why not,” he murmurs, “… maybe sweet, perfect Mikasa’s finally going to learn to have some fun.”

He takes a deep inhale of the joint, eyes boring into her before he drops lower, lips hovering just over hers. The proximity is enough to make her gasp, lips parting slightly, her body feeling hot when he slips his knee between her thighs.

He exhales directly into her mouth, the intoxicating smoke flowing directly into her. “Take it in, sweetheart,” he urges, “… till your throat burns.”

Mikasa does as he says, eyes watering a little from the smoke, the taste and smell being completely new to her. She’s not sure if it’s the smoke that’s making her feel heady or if it’s the fact that his lips are so close to hers, they’re literally brushing against hers.

His hands find purchase on her hips, his thumb brushing under her sweater and against her taut abs. “… Again?”

She nods, and he does it again, and she wonders if she imagines his leg brushing just a little closer to the warmth between her legs. After he blows into her mouth, this time, his lips fall just below her lips, pressing featherlight kisses along her jawline.

She coughs lightly, and he looks up at her. “… You okay?” Her pupils are dilated just a little bit, pink lips parting invitingly.

“A little dizzy,” she breathes, “… or something like that.” She can barely recognise her own voice.

He smiles, regarding her intently, and her heart skips a beat because it’s been so long since he’s looked at her with affection in his eyes.

“… You like it…” A question? A statement? She has no idea. All she knows is that his breath is kind of tickling her lips, and she’s rubbing down on his thighs, sort of, and yeah, she does like that.

“You want another shotgun kiss, sweetheart?”

She’s not really sure what it means, but whatever he was smoking was starting to get to her, and it’s kind of taking over her body, like a warmth, relaxing, uncoiling, and she doesn’t really want to think about it too much anymore, so she nods, whispering, “… Please, Eren.” And maybe she just really likes it when he talks sweet to her like that.

It’s so transparent, Eren feels guilty. She’s in his arms, relaxed like she hasn’t got a care in the world. Apart from getting him to kiss her. It’s so sweet, the way she begs him with just her eyes, it goes straight to his cock. That’s why he preferred the distance between them.

Miss Goody-two-shoes Mikasa Ackerman with her perfect grades, perfect career… perfect fucking body. She never did anything wrong… except for Eren Jeager. Classic bad boy with anger issues and a penchant for things on the other side of the law. At first, she’d tried to lecture him, pull him back, and remind him of all the good things he wanted from life, but he isn’t sure if he wants all those things anymore.

But Mikasa? She used to be a good thing in his life. Maybe the only thing he still wanted… regardless of how much ever he tried to push her away. It was even harder to deny now, when she was so pliant in his arms, silly grin on her cheeks, lips shining from where she licked them. 

He blows the smoke into her open mouth slowly, hands on her cheeks as soft as he can manage. Runs his fingers through her hair afterward as he watches the haze in her eyes. “You good, Mikasa?”

She hums, closing her eyes. It was too tempting to pass up. He kisses her slowly, suckling her lower lip and pulling it into his mouth, one hand finding purchase on her hip. The fact that he gets to kiss her after so damn long (he’d almost given up on them ever getting back together), even though he knows he’s probably taking advantage of the situation, gets him carried away. He likes feeling her relax in his arms, watching her pupils dilate in this heady mixture of intoxication and arousal, seeing her nipples poking through the soft fabric of her blouse.

Mikasa’s lips are so pretty, so perfect, he’d always been enamoured by them, by how they feel, how they look when she’s happy. She giggles when it finally hits her, breathes on his ear that he’s tickling her with all these kisses. It makes him do it even more, if only that he can see her laugh with him again. They’d been fighting for several months now; all he’d ever see in her eyes was disappointment.

So he commits it to memory, her laugh, her arousal, takes it a step further when his hands reach inside her shirt to grope at her breasts and fondle her nipples. “Eren, there’s people here,” -

“And none of these people care, Mikasa.” He lifts her up swiftly and places her on the counter. There’s clear apprehension in her eyes as she looks at him. He picks up his joint and takes a drag.

“Do you want a puff?” He should feel terrible, but the more she looks at him that way– sweet, trusting, he gives into the pulsing desire in his gut.

“I-I don’t really know how to,” -

“… I’ll teach you. Put in your mouth.” It sounds kind of crude the way he says it, makes her think of other things, memories from when they were a lot more intimate. He places the joint between her lips and says, “… Suck.”

She does exactly as he says, pursing her lips around the joint and sucking hard. The smoke fills her mouth and abruptly she coughs sputtering all around her.

Smirking, he murmurs, “… You have to hold it in, babe. You can do that, can’t you?”

She’s not really sure if she’s imagining it, but she feels nervous under his gaze, exposed maybe, and it makes her body feel hot. Tears in her eyes from the smoke, she tries again, this time letting the acrid smoke go down her throat. She lets it out in a more controlled exhale, not without a few stray coughs. “I don’t think I’m very good at it,” she says, throat itchy.

She scrunches up her nose, looking absolutely adorable.

“Relax, Mikasa. You don’t always have to be good at everything, you know.” He boops her nose playfully, remembering how much he hated that growing up; she was good at school, good at sports, good-looking, good at heart -

He’d hated her almost as much as he loved her. (Was it all that different now?)

Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing as she looks at him in a kind of dazed wonder. She rubs the tip of her nose gingerly. “… it’s been so long since you’ve done that.”

Shit. It was just a gesture he’d done so many times, he hadn’t even thought about it before doing it. Hell, he’d practically been kissing her minutes ago, and that hadn’t sounded off any alarms in her head apparently, but a little nose boop had her looking at him with the kind of hope in his eyes that he just didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with right now.

“Forget it,” he says, harsher than he intended, reassessing the position they were in; faces mere inches from each other, him nestled between her legs in the corner of the kitchen. “… I shouldn’t have done it.”

Shouldn’t have kissed her, because it’s all he can think about even though he’s stepped back and put some distance between them. His lips burn where they touched her skin, her mouth, craving a sensation he has no business seeking anymore.

She pulls on his sleeve and his gaze flies back to hers, pretty grey orbs looking at him pleadingly. “… I miss you, Eren.” Very simply, a truth she doesn’t hesitate to say. Eren thinks she’d say it even if she wasn’t high because that’s just how she was - honest, simple, perfect. “Don’t you miss me?”

Her voice wavers because she’s scared to hear it, afraid that he’s going to say no and push her away like he has for the last few months; he’d tell her he doesn’t care and step on her heart the way he’s done unflinchingly in the past. He sees it, sees the vulnerability, and he hates himself for it.

It’s an addictive kind of pain, a stabbing self-loathing that came with loving Mikasa Ackerman. He’d never felt good enough for her even when he was doing everything right - doing med school and a part-time job, driving up every Sunday to meet his father, taking flowers to his mother’s grave.

Now he can’t bear to do any of it, he feels betrayed by all that he thought was right, and anything more than waking up and distracting himself from it all feels like a weight he isn’t strong enough to carry. Especially when the weight is from his girlfriend’s crushing disappointment.

This is why he’d distanced himself, why he doesn’t like her coming over, why he can’t bear to be near her anymore. He takes a deep drag and prays that the smoke in his nostrils and his mouth will make it all hazy again, because he doesn’t want to see these things clearly anymore.

He shuts his eyes for a brief moment, whispers, “Why? Why do you miss me, Mikasa?”

Because what else do I do for you other than weigh you down?

She threads her fingers into his, pulling him closer. “… it used to feel good,” she breathes, kind of wistful, “being with you.”

He feels the whisper on his chin, her lips brushing against his skin, and he feels it; it used to feel more than just good… being with her used to feel right.

As right as it does right now, when her legs loop around his thighs, locking him into place flush against her hips, her hands resting on his chest.

He’s starting to recognize that he’s already ruined, he’s already fucked up, and maybe there’s no point overthinking this anymore. Taking another drag, this time he runs a thumb along her lip and opens her mouth before he shotguns into her. Maybe it’s selfish, but he doesn’t want either of them to be seeing clearly when none of this is real.

“I could make you feel good again,” he murmurs, hands roaming her thighs, loving the feel of her in his hands. (He’d missed her too, how could she ever have thought otherwise?)

“Mmhmm.” Her hands thread into his hair, and she angles herself against his mouth, tasting his weed-stained lips, tongue tracing his teeth before it slips inside of him.

She tastes a little bit like him, of regret and smoke but mostly of longing, and it makes him yearn for her in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to recently. Her breasts press up against his chest, and it feels so natural, so unbelievably good, he almost groans into her mouth.

He wants her to feel good too, he wasn’t lying when he said he would do it; that’s what she misses about him after all. His fingers reach for the button of her jeans and slide her zipper down, and he feels her gasp against his mouth. “… What are you,” -

“I thought you wanted to feel good, baby,” he says, knowing just how unfairly he was twisting her own words. The hitch in her throat however tells him she doesn’t truly mind this, not at all.

His thumb reaches into her panties and finds her weakness immediately. He brings it to his mouth and licks the pad of his thumb, his eyes not leaving hers, enjoying the way her mouth parts wantonly with the knowledge of what he was going to do.

He brushes against her clit and she arches, unprepared for how good it would feel. She hears the noise of someone rummaging at the other end of the kitchen and she stills, panicking.

“Relax,” he tells her, because she’s still too tense, there’s no way he’d let anyone see her; his entire frame blocks any vantage point anyone else could have of her. “Focus on my fingers, baby. That’s it.”

She’s unbelievably wet, his index and middle finger are drenched as he works them into her. “… Do you really think I’d let anyone else watch you when you’re like this?” His lips hover over the shell of her ear. “When you’re dripping onto my fingers,” he nibbles on her lobe, “like a slut?”

She tightens around him as he says it, cheeks burning, a low moan escaping her lips. He kisses her again, before she can get too loud, consuming her little whimpers before they can escape him.

She feels so precious like this, so small, clinging on to him while he makes her come with just his fingers. “It’s been a while since you’ve done it, haven’t you?” He wonders if it’s the weed that makes him ask this so boldly, if that’s what makes her blush when she nods. She’d come so quickly, so easily, like all she needed was his touch.

He likes it though, likes that he still has this effect on her, that despite all the disappointment he seems to cause, he can make her unravel for him in minutes. He extracts his fingers from her pussy and keeping his gaze fixed on hers, slips them into his mouth, sucking deliberately.

“You taste just as sweet as I remember, Mikasa.” he murmurs.

Her hands move to his pants, tugging on his zipper. “Am I allowed to taste you?” 

He can feel himself grow harder at her words. He thumbs her lower lip, pink with saliva and the juices from her cunt that were on his finger. “Did you miss that too, baby?” And when she blushes he says, “Beg me for it and I’ll let you.” 

She threads her hands around his neck, reaches up on tiptoe and clings to him, breath hot on his ear. “I missed sucking you off, Eren. So much.” And God, if that wasn’t hot enough, she brushes her fingers against his bulge. “Please?” 

Maybe a younger version of him, less experienced, would have made a mess of himself on the spot. His hand moves up to grip her neck, tipping her mouth up to meet his. Exactly then, he hears an absolutely unwanted, annoying, infuriating voice call his name. “Jaeger, Connie got a bit uh, enthusiastic and um, broke the bong. Do you have– Whaaa–”

Eren turns to the side, his gaze blistering with fury. “Get the fuck out, Jean.” 

It takes a second for Jean to fully comprehend the scene in front of him. Maybe because he’s stoned out of his mind, he lingers, his gaze taking in Mikasa tucked into Eren’s chest, her messy state of dress. “Didn’t know you guys were back together,” he says slowly, the faint fire of lust glowing in his eyes. 

“We’re n—” 

“It’s none of your business, actually.” And this time he doesn’t hide the venom from his voice, his grip on Mikasa’s neck tightening. 

Jean smirks, levelling with Eren for a hot minute. And then he puts his hands up and walks out. Before he leaves the kitchen he turns over his shoulder and says, “Missed seeing you around, Mikasa.” 

Dick.

“Get on your knees, Mikasa.” His grip is firm around her neck, and his gaze is burning— annoyed, possessive? She couldn’t tell. 

When she hesitates, he narrows his eyes. “Just one minute ago, you were begging? And after Jean came in you’re suddenly not interested anymore? Is that how easy it is to change your mind, sweetheart?” 

The anger lacing his voice should scare her. Maybe if she weren’t so fucking high, it would. But all she can focus on is what she wants; and she’s willing to beg for it. “I was just wondering if we could go somewhere more private, Eren. I don’t want anyone to interrupt us again.” 

He considers her slowly, lets the anger ebb and fade. Rubs his thumb against her neck softly, before dropping a kiss on her collarbone. “He’s always been sweet on you, that motherfucker.” 

His kisses feel like little shots of vodka poured straight into her bloodstream. The possessive edge to his voice makes her clench her thighs. “Let’s go to your bedroom.” Her fingers slip under his shirt. “Please.” 

He loved hearing her beg, but he doesn’t make her beg too much. He doesn’t have the patience for it. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” 

If people see them when he carries her up the stairs, he doesn’t care. If they think they’re back together… Well let them fucking think it. When he shuts the door behind him, she immediately slinks down to her knees. 

It was fucking heavenly. The sight of the girl he loved so eager to blow him, so fucking sweet as she pulled him out of his pants and licked him from the balls to his head? Pretty fucking hard to beat. 

He lets her warm up, licking and sucking the tip, being cute with her kisses, until he pushes forward, goes a bit deeper, makes her gag, murmuring, “You’re so fucking perfect, it pisses me off.” She lets out a gasp as he slips out of her mouth with a pop, cock smacking against her cheek. 

He fists his hand in her hair, pulling her gaze up to him. A string of spit falls down her chin. “You satisfied, Mikasa? This is what you wanted, right?” He smears the spit along her cheek with his thumb. 

She touches her tongue to his head, licking the precum on top. “Wanna taste your cum,” she says faintly, pretty grey eyes flickering away from him. 

Suddenly he’s overcome with the urge to kiss her. It’s a little bit sappy and mostly ruined, but this is how she fucks him over— tells him sweet things and then dirty things with that perfect mouth of hers. Makes him want to spout fucking love poems when his dick is hard in her mouth. 

“Maybe… I don’t want to come in your mouth.” He nuzzles her chin, watches as she looks somewhat dejected. 

He pulls her up to her feet, makes himself comfortable on the bed, nestling her between his legs. Trailing his hands over her toned belly, his hands dip lower until he cups her pussy over her jeans. “Maybe I want to come in here.” 

“You ok with that, Mikasa?” Almost inadvertently, she clenches her thighs. He can feel the warmth radiating from her. “Mmm-hmm.” 

“Gimme a kiss,” he murmurs. She bends down and kisses him, open-mouthed, kinda messy, the smell of smoke still heavy on her tongue. He plays with her tongue, sucking, pulling it into his mouth and savouring it. 

“So fucking sweet,” he tells her, “... you do whatever I ask for.” He unzips her jeans, pulling them down along with her panties. His gaze darkened salaciously as it dropped from her face to the place between her legs. “But you were gonna tell Jean we weren’t back together, right?” 

His fingers dip inside of her again. The second time that day that he found her wet and wanting. When he thinks about the fact that she was this riled up just from giving him head… He wanted to be inside her so badly. He pulled his fingers out of her and saw them glisten. She didn’t even need the fucking foreplay. 

She looked at him, conflicted. “But we’re not,” she mumbles. “You didn’t even want me here.” 

“And you didn’t want people to think we were together.” He sounded a bit crazy to his own ears, but he didn’t care. “Wanted people to think this didn’t belong to me?” And almost cruelly, he pinches her clit. 

Moaning, she almost falls forward, bracing herself on his shoulders. “Never,” she whispers shakily. 

“You’re soaked, Mikasa.” Lifting her by the hips, he throws her onto the bed beneath him. Without him asking, or prompting, she spreads her legs to accommodate him as he nestles himself between her legs. Grinding down onto her through his boxers, he says, “Fucking drenched.” His hand splays around her throat before he kisses her. Hard. “Because of me.” 

And before she can even say yes, that nobody else could ever have this effect on he slips his boxers down and sheathes himself inside her, fully, in one smooth motion. 

“I missed this,” she says hoarsely, as she adjusts to the size of him, as he fills her up slowly. “Missed you, Eren.” 

She says it so easily, so sweetly, he kind of envies her. Is this what it’s like to love without pride or anger or the debilitating insecurity of never being enough? Because how much ever she sighs his name when he fucks her, he can’t shake that little niggle at the bottom of his heart that tells him that he’s ruining a girl who’s far too good for him. So instead of saying it back he kisses her harder, swallowing her words, allowing only her moans when he talks dirty to her. When he tells her she’s so good, so good for one thing— and that’s taking his cock. 

He palms her breasts, reaching down to kiss them, pinching them as he sees her reaching the edge. She’s the prettiest thing as she comes, back arching off the bed, toes curling, mouth open as she gasps his name in pleasure. It’s his most favourite sound. And once she’s done, she whimpers, “You promised.” 

“What’d I promise you, baby?” And for a moment he’s worried. Because sometimes she feels so fucking good, he tells her things he can’t really reason, promises her the fucking world, and the moon if she wanted it. 

He thrusts in and out of her, a bit unsteady, his thrusts shallow, because she’s so fucking slick it feels like she’s going to milk the orgasm right out of him. 

“Said you were gonna cum inside of me,” she pants, fingers digging into his arm as she winced from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

He pulls her hair away from her face, sweaty and matted to her face. Kisses her by the side of her mouth because that’s all he can manage. He buries his face in the crook of her neck. “Not wearing a condom, Mikasa,” he breathes, so fucking close he’s nearly a second from blowing. 

“Don’t care, Eren. You promised–” 

“Gonna come, baby,” he groans, the most pathetic warning, because he before he even finishes that statement, he’s spilling into her. Thick and hot deep inside of her, making her feel dirty with the feeling of having him as deep inside of her as he possibly could be.

They lay together after that, his breaths harsh next to her mellow ones. As he slips outside of her, she can feel the essence of him drip down her crack, pooling onto the sheets. “You’re impossible, you know that,” he whispers, slipping one finger between her legs and pushing his cum back into her slit almost absent-mindedly. 

“Can’t say no to you, can’t get you out of my mind.” Tiredly he places a kiss on her forehead. She doesn’t say anything, still looking somewhat dazed. 

“You feeling okay?” He asks, concerned. She’d never smoked before and even though it was possibly too late to develop a conscience, the guilt had caught up with him. 

“Why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?” She looks at him sincerely, lips swollen from his kisses. “I can’t get you out of my mind either.” She snuggles into his arms, mumbles something into his skin. 

It sounds suspiciously like, “It’s because I love you.” And it could be so easy to say it back— the way Mikasa does, innocent, sweet, pure. But Eren isn’t like that. There’s nothing innocent about him— not his heart and not his body. Nothing sweet about the way he wanted her; a vicious, undeniable creature inside of him that kept him dishonest. 

So he just sighs, pretends he doesn’t hear it when he really does, when it sits inside of his heart like a heavy thing, and places a kiss on her shoulder, stroking her back until she drifts off to sleep. “It is a bad thing,” he murmurs, before his eyes fall shut. “Good girls like you deserve better.”

[eldritchaccident]

Timing: April 16th Location: Ontario, Canada Warnings: asphyxiation tw Summary: Teddy finds the fam

The road eastward brought blooms and warmth. Even as north as Canada, spring made its way into each and every bud, every blade of grass, every flower rebelliously bursting through half frozen soil. Bringing brightness and color to an otherwise inauspicious trek. The road, a dull gray, felt twice as dire in contrast to the burst of life on either side of the blackened river of concrete and asphalt. The coordinates landed a few hours northeast of Thunder Bay in Ontario. Across the tumultuous waves of Lake Superior. 

The town itself wasn’t named on the map, but the small section of the coastline was almost… too perfectly hidden from any means of internet research. The only ways that led in were nameless ghost roads winding from numbered tributaries, eventually leading off towards the main arterial highways of the Great White North. The secrecy wasn’t comforting. If anything, it brought back the severe stare that picture leveled against Teddy, the way it made their stomach curdle. 

Few thoughts brought them solace, but nothing would calm their mind if they didn’t go down this road. Little memories provided warmth. Rough hands gently rubbing circles on their back. The smell of wet earth as two pairs of gloves tenderly introduced seedlings to the soil. Splashes of water and flashes of fur, scales, tiny buggy feets all being cared for by one who barely shows her smiles to the world. Late night pizza filled research sessions, learning the ways of magic neither had been instructed upon. When Teddy finished all this, when they got the answers they were looking for, that was their reward. Going home. Being at peace. Being able to live and exist again, no longer torn in two by a past divided. 

Destiny came sooner the more they thought on its epilogue. 

The drive was long, hard, and filled with endless uneventful hours for Teddy to sit and ruminate on every possibility. Every outcome, however unlikely. They almost missed the sign declaring their entrance into the town of Echo. Proudly declaring a small population, barely capping a thousand residents. The sign was old though, so, who knew if it was accurate. Teddy took a minute to confer with the gps system (Since their phone was utterly useless now). They were heading in the right direction. This was it. 

Wheels rolled onward, the yellow bug rumbling into what appeared to be the one main drag this town had to offer. Old Victorian and Colonial style houses dappled the streets along with small shops and restaurants. A single grocery store, and thankfully, a motel. A good place as any to set up shop. 

Teddy pulled into the small parking lot, headed in towards what looked like the office, happy to see a smiling (albeit a little shocked) face at the end of their long, long trip. 

“H-hey there! Can I help you?” The woman behind the counter stuttered, almost like she was unsure if this fell within her job description. Teddy returned her smile only bigger, and she seemed to relax. 

“Don’t get too many travelers here do you?” 

“Nah, certain times of year, sure. Can’t say this is really tourist season now, bud.” She looked apologetic, and Teddy noticed the phone she tucked away into her desk, and how candy crush was for sure still on the screen. “But we’re always glad to see a new face! Are you planning on staying?”

“Absolutely, Just a room for one, please.” “Can do, Just need to see your license and a credit card and I can get ya set right up.” The clerical steps weren’t exactly the most interesting thing, but Teddy was pleased when the two fake cards went undetected. 

“Mr. Jogia…? How many nights do you wanna book with us?” 

“Put me down for a week.” 

“Oh my! Alrighty, what brings you up this way?” 

“Ah, you know. Doing some research for a school project. Something about the older and less well known towns in Ontario.” A classic lie, half laden with just a sprinkling of truth. Research, yes, school? Eh. Teddy figured they knew enough from watching shows that a history class might give out something like this as homework. 

The rest of the conversation was about as friendly (if dry) as it had been til that point. Teddy was given a room and the keys along with it. The secretary, June, even gave them a heads up on which restaurants were a must, and which were a bust. Poutine De Manger. Was amongst the highest rated, and of course had their mind going back to Wicked’s Rest and that strange animal control officer with his very favorite phrase. 

With their bags unpacked and quaint little room set up for the week, Teddy set out into the town. The final stretch to the coordinates on the back of the picture. The road leading up was paved, but strangely. The normal gravel and concrete method had been forsaken in favor of some intricate mosaic. One that Teddy recognized had the same symbol they kept seeing all throughout the town. Almost every building, every road sign, every business had it somewhere on them. Even the sign leading into the town itself bore the sixteen pointed star. 

Before they could even see the break in the trees, Teddy pulled their car off to the side. Hiding it (well enough) with some branches and whatnot. The rest of the trek would have to be on foot, lest someone notice the sound and give away their position. Between the trees, they made their approach, finding not just one house but several. Almost like a cul-de-sac or Plantation, with a central manor surrounded by smaller, but no less intricate houses. 

Teddy crept from hiding place to hiding place until the figures came fully into view. A scattering of people walked in amongst the buildings. Some of them were further off from the main stretch. In the space stretching between, fields of various herbs and flowers grew and were tended to by some of the inhabitants. A lot of which, they admitted to themself, looked similar to them. One of the ones in the field had the same nose and hair as Teddy, but a much more muscular build. Tattoos along his arms and neck, runic, sometimes glowing as the caster exerted magical effort. Another, over by what looked to be stables had the same eyes, the same skin tone, and the same smile, but much taller and somehow even lankier than Teddy. It was odd. A series of fun house mirrors over and over again. If this truly was their father’s home, did that mean this was a whole family affair, a whole coven? Were they… cousins? An idea that sent a fluttering in Ted’s stomach, too early to tell whether it was a good or a bad thing. 

A few more carefully timed sprints, a semi-hazardous climb, and Teddy had managed to find a vantage point from which to fully observe. The barn had an overlook in the attic. From there the caster could stay hidden all while peering into the windows of a few of the houses. Able to keep track of the comings and goings of any of the main structures. Cautious and careful, they settled in for the long watch. 

The largest house captured the largest portion of their attention. Why wouldn’t it? The grand old manor had people coming in and out at all times of the day. A bustling hive of activity, alight with magical energy. This whole place thrummed with it. Electrified, exhilarating. Made it hard for Teddy to keep still but they needed this information. Needed to find him. Still, a few hours in there was no sign. 

Afternoon turned to dusk, and in the twilight Teddy began to nod off. Sleep finally caught up, the ever persistent hunter. But a sound, sharp and metallic, caught them before they slipped. A car door had slammed just outside of the main manor. A few of the casters below dragged someone from their seat. Teddy squinted, trying to make out the face of the new player, but realized quickly they hadn’t recognized them at all. A man, skinny, white, maybe in his late thirties or early forties. Hard to say. He looked haggard and horrified, made even more so when the doors to the manor flung open and an old woman flanked on either side by masked guards casually stepped forward. 

Gold embroidered the shawl draped along her shoulders with ancient runes and glyphs. An old dark cane clicked against the stonework as she stepped down. Elegant, somehow, was the first word that came to Teddy’s mind. Fierce was next, followed quickly by terrifying. Something in her stature spoke of raw power. She radiated it. Embodied it. Carrying her age like a weapon rather than a crutch. Her gaze was just as severe as the one in the photo. Her features too similar to be anyone but Teddy’s very own grandmother. 

There was a conversation happening, but the only parts the hidden caster could make out were the pleas of the man, begging for more time. Saying he could collect the money, that he could pay off his debt. She seemed utterly uninterested, right up until the man lurched forward. Attempting what Teddy could only imagine was some kind of Hail Mary to escape. 

Simply as anything, the old woman raised her hand. A glow lit her eyes up in the dim golden dusk. Bright, tealish blue. First, a barrier manifested between her and the charging man, who Teddy only just realized had been let go by the two from the car. Next was much harder to watch. The same barrier slunk in and wrapped around the man’s head. Slowly, excruciatingly, shrinking, smaller, smaller, smaller. 

Claustrophobia hadn’t been one of Teddy’s biggest fears or anything, but even they felt like the world was just a little too tight while they watched the man struggle for air and space. His hands scratched to no avail at the magical material, all while the woman looked coldly on, uncaring, unmoving. All they could think of was how Leviathan explained Lydia’s death, how it said Teddy laughed while she suffocated. The beast had been proud of that. Brought it up often. Watching it happen now to some stranger, all they felt was sick. 

They couldn’t watch anymore. There wasn’t anything they could do for the man. Averted eyes fell on another scene. Off the main course, toward one of the other houses. Another set of windows into a life that might have been theirs. Breath caught in Teddy’s throat, the very person they’d been looking for sat in the living room of that house. Time hadn’t sat still for the man, dusty white streaks peppered his temples and beard. Lines drew long on his face, somehow making his features more angular, more severe. Except… he was smiling. 

He wasn’t alone. 

A young girl with long dark wavy hair stood in front, happily displaying a show of magical efficiency. The same teal light choking a man not thirty yards away danced along her fingers and manipulated a series of flowers to form a crown. Their father looked enthused. Proud. 

Struck, suddenly, Teddy’s chest tightened. Their breath left entirely. Blood rushed from their fingers, from their face, all flooding to their legs. Ready to run. Heartbeats became all they could hear, drowning the dying man’s wails from inside his personal magical torture chamber. They could feel their own magic welling up, threatening to surface, threatening to break something. Teddy had to leave. Teddy had to get out of there before their position was compromised. Teddy had to do something or they were going to explode. 

Finding their father was a lot. Finding a whole family of casters with whom they shared blood was a lot. 

But this was too much. 

Teddy had a little sister. 

Shit.

[joz-yyh]

Blighted Hearts - Ch. 6 (Preview)

SUMMARY: Awash in their poor decision making skills, confessions are made. Baldwin is called upon to discipline them. Damian reminisces about the day he and Bigby first met. No Beta. Read at your own risk.

PAIRING: Abomination x Flagellant

RATING: EXPLICIT (for anal sex)

WORD COUNT: 2,483

A/N: This chapter is going to a be a bit shorter (need to counter balance the previous one being so long) hence why the preview has some abrupt scene changes. I'll mark the flashback in bold. I usually put an excerpt at the start, but this chappie dives right into the smut so go ahead and click that 'read more' fam. :>

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Such flowery words, along with Damian's superfluous voice, the sweet plunge of the sonorous dick in his ass – it’s all too much. He doesn’t fight his orgasm when it strikes, he lets it devastate him wholly, fully.

He still has enough coherency to muffle his cries, a note of higher pitch clambering out into the room before he can catch it, hot spend staining his stomach in splatters of milky jade.

Damian can’t move, not yet, he's too busy watching the show. Bigby offers a little groan, still stifled with his palm, the effervescence spurts of his cock slowly dying down.

He's so handsome, but not even that word seems good enough, needing a combination of pretty names to describe such a divine creature as this.

While Damian tries to find the parlance worthy of him, Bigby seems to miss his thrusts, feeling empty without the jabbing friction, fucking himself on his partner's shaft of his own accord.

It's a slow, almost agonizing pace, something easily mistaken for reflexive instinct, riding through ripples of aftershocks, scarred hands encouraging the heave of his lanky thighs.

Bigby gasps as he drops down in a particularly heavy arch, the cockhead scoring against his inner walls at just the right angle, turning his body electric.

“Are you ready for more,” Damian asks, but he doesn't wait for an answer.

The flagellant jerks his hips, driving in with one poignant thrust and Bigby bows against it, with it, a moan held in his throat.

Damian does it again, harder, making him whine louder, though he tries valiantly to mask it.

Thank goodness this wing is mostly empty because feeling like this, as if his skin will fly away, bleed into the universe, he gets how Damian could be so vocal in their prior couplings. It occurs to the abomination that he could tell his partner to stop, solve their acoustics with a ceasefire of motion, but Light help him, he doesn't want to.

Any attempt at words is reduced to homogenized hums of approval, the flagellant thrusts unrelenting in their purpose until only fizzled static remains.

"Bigby–,” the flagellant cries, sinking nails into waiting flesh as release takes him, tipping over the edge, “mmnnahhh!'"

The priest chants his name, nonsensical as if returned to his catatonic daze, laying flat upon the bed as they vibrate against the sheets, panting, sweating, culminating.

Bigby frets that his partner might be on the brink of passing out again, but there shouldn't be any chances of that, not with the beast safely tucked away, still sated, still hibernating from their last encounter. 

His human half was in control this time, but perhaps this overexertion was not something Damian's body could handle so soon after its last collapse.

“H-hey,” the wolfboy says shakily, a nervous tremble in his voice as he runs fingers along his partner's jaw, keeping him attendant.

“Don't worry,” Damian assures him, managing a tired smirk, eyes still closed, "I am here.”

“Good,” Bigby sighs, dismay rescinded, his chest full of relief, “In that case, I should probably get us something to clean up.”

For a man that had been a compliant, little lamb mere moments ago, Damian suddenly tightens his grip, reluctant to separate them.

"Please, don't go," he seems to be crying, or maybe it's just a trick of the light, "I want to remember the feeling of you. Always."

The dick buried inside his passage twitches back to life and Bigby's shaft gives its own stimulating wiggle, wondering if they should go again, try for seconds.

"It will only be for a moment, I promise," the abomination says, persuading himself in the process, moving to climb off.

With a disparaging whine, the priest lets him withdraw, the changing chuckling to himself, meek of his partner's reaction.

He finds a bundle of clean cloths near the supply cabinets, dipping a portion of cotton in the wash basin to wet it.

Damian inclines his interest, shifting his position on the mattress, watching as his boyfriend freshens up, the man brushing the cloth over his feverish brow, then down over the plucked cherry of his nipples.

"The very sight of you is driving me mad," he admits, loud enough for his voice to carry, his erection never quite leaving it's full mast.

The abomination is dusted with a blush, his front mostly obscured from view. He didn't know Damian would be receptive to such provocative rituals, let alone be aroused, but perhaps he should have considering what other kinks he had.

“This is hardly a seduction,” Bigby scoffs, rubbing away the pearls on his stomach, then lower, the rag looking like a proper fig leaf against his cock. 

“It doesn't matter,” the priest says, fixated on his bare skin, “everything you do has my eye.”

—-

The daylight and all its burdens arrive too soon. Whatever tidings of sleep they had are revoked, the air of Baldwin's presence immediate. 

The leper is less than impressed with this damning scene, having caught them in a similar unfurling not so long ago.

He clears his throat, looking between the two culprits, Bigby shrinking from his golden eyes, knowing exactly what he's going to say about their irresponsible behavior.

“I am glad to see you've recovered,” Baldwin says, astounded that the flagellant had bounced back so quickly, but he supposes it's all the better for Bigby's mental health.

“Ah, Baldy! How nice of you to stop by,” the flagellant chippers, “As you can see, I am feeling better than ever.”

The leper is not falling for the flagellants' mock courtesies, getting right to the heart of the matter.

“Yes, it's the strangest thing. I came to check up on you, but the nurses were all too eager to inform me about the stir in the recovery wing.”

Not missing a beat, Damian grins, ear to ear, "Oh, that! I was curing Bigby's lycanthropy."

Baldwin's eyes narrow, the emotion evident even from behind the mask, the grimace of his stern jaw. He's displeased with the frivolity, especially when the two were supposed to be representing the church.

The leper lingers on Bigby, wanting to say a few choice words of disappointment, but he saves the spat of aggression for Damian.

“I feel it necessary to inform you that such afflictions are not so easily cured,” there’s a grate to his voice, countenance slipping.

The abomination finches at the Herculean man's tone, burrowing his head, not dealing well with confrontation.

Damian holds him close, drawing teasing trails over the bony mountains of his spine, whispering soothing words of comfort, ones that Baldwin can’t hear, but can certainly perceive, reading lips just another necessary skill he picked up during his monarchy.

“It's alright. I'll take care of you.”

The flagellant turns to their guest, regarding him openly, “I heard you brought my books. Thank you for that. It was a delight hearing Bigby read them to me.”

“It seems to have benefited you greatly,” Baldwin begins, “A shame you'll be too busy for the next few days.”

“Hm,” Damian asks, the noise probing, noncommittal.

“I took the liberty of volunteering you both. Hard labor in exchange for your stay here. Adequate compensation for the poor example you set.”

"If that's what I must do, so be it," the flagellant agrees, “whatever they ask, it shall be done.”

“I don't mind helping,” the abomination chimes in, breaking his silence, “I was a part of it too if I remember correctly.”

“I remember your part perfectly,” the flagellant smiles, sharing a knowing gaze.

That prompts Baldwin to wonder what kind of lover the abomination is. A precious one no doubt, with the prettiest of mewls. But oh he was getting off topic.

“I advise you to demonstrate some restraint," the leper continues, “I’ll be supervising you until such a time as you are relieved from your duties.”

He's banking more so on Bigby's moral compass to keep them from indulging, but he's not so sure having an audience will deter Damian any less. 

“Is kissing permitted,” the flagellant asks, leaning down, taking his boyfriend by the chin.

“Damian, don't,” he argues, huffing weakly in protest, “it's rude … in front of others.”  

“You love me, don't you?” 

“Yes, but –” 

“Then, let me kiss you.”

Bigby grumbles, but closes his eyes, expecting a quick peck of lips, but that's not all what he gets.

“Open for me.” 

His eyes certainly do, mouth gasping as the naughty priest takes the opportunity to ally their tongues.

The leper wonders if Bigby has figured out his attraction towards him yet, if he should make it more obvious because the flagellant seems to know they're rivals in love, why else would he flaunt the object of his affections right in front of him like this?

Baldwin had endless discipline, endless patience. He could bide his time until one or the other broke, but right now his tolerance for such conduct was wearing thin. The strong man hurls a pair of clothes at the couple, shattering their display. 

“Get changed,” orders the leper lord, “if you're not ready in five minutes, I am coming in here personally to retrieve you, regardless of what state of dress you're in.”

Baldwin stalks away, his ragged cowl swishing behind him in terse conclusion, his heavy gait carrying him out of the room.

“We're in so much trouble,” the vagrant gripes, the weight of it hanging over his conscience.

“It's fun, isn't it,” the flagellant inclines, eyes twinkling, “getting into trouble.”

“Not sure if ‘fun’ is the right word,” Bigby sighs.

“C'mon, it's a little bit fun. Especially, when you think about what we could do in 5 minutes.”

“We can't,” deflects the abomination, lightly pushing against thr priest's chest to garner distance.

“Then, shall I help you get dressed?”

There will only be more opportunity for embarrassment if he entrusts himself to Damian’s voracious tendencies.

“Probably best you didn't. C'mon, we're wasting time."

Gruff hands pick up one of the cobalt-colored garments on the bed, holding it up to discern its shape and fit.

They appear to work scrubs, an upgrade from his torn trousers, appropriate to his size, though he wonders how his partner will fair with his. 

—------ *FLASHBACK*

Rap Rap Rap

The banging comes again and again, soft at first, then more insistent with each passing attempt, trying to overpower the howl of wind and rain tearing through Hamlet.

It's well past midnight when Damian looks up from his scrubbing, the cell still awash in red, the water already turned pink as hears the thumps echoing through the silence of the penance hall.

He abandons his brush and bucket, escorting himself to the front doors of the abbey, a hurried pace to match the persistent knocking. 

Whoever was brave enough to visit them at this hour, in these conditions, must be a dire sort in need. 

The wood creaks open, barely audible over the turbulent waves of rain splashing at his robes.

It’s dark, almost too dark to see, the strike of lightning overhead revealing the sodden creature huddled before him. Feet planted on the flooded stoop, this stranger melds with the shadows, midnight strands of hair heavy with wet, branching over his haggard face. What can be seen of his pale body shivers, soaked to the bone. 

“Please, I seek shelter from the storm,” croaks the voice, desperate and depraved, the lights in his eyes glowing like twin moons, “will you permit me inside?”

So allured by who or what this man could be, Damian’s response is less than punctual.

“Yes, yes of course. Come in,” the flagellant says, collecting his wits, stepping aside for the weary traveler to enter.

At his generous words, the poor man’s expression softens, transformed into such gentle features that Damian struggles to keep the breath alive in his lungs.

Had this small token of salvation been the only kindness he’s ever known?

Now dedicated to this traveler, the hooded priest almost forgets to shut the door, sparing a moment to quickly latch it back into place, sealing off the cold. 

The pitter patter of rain drops mark the stranger's path, his shroud thick with water, creating a puddle beneath, but the vagrant stubbornly clings to it like a second skin.

“Come this way,” Damian offers, ushering his guest with an inviting hand, “warm yourself by the hearth.”

The flagellant leads them towards the dining room, this fireplace there the biggest amongst them all, always a constant blaze never to be extinguished.

“T-thank y-you,” his company speaks, teeth chattering, “I'm sorry, b-but I have n-nothing of value t-to offer you in return.”

“The Light does not offer sanctuary with the expectation of a reward,” Damian chuckles, hoping to thaw him with his words.

Bigby says nothing as they traverse the hall, the cobblestone lined with sconces of orange light, drapes with holy symbols spanning the gaps between.

His morbid guide turns left, a partition of gothic design overlooking an entryway into a long side room.

They walk the length of the table that waits inside, their destination glowing brightly at the opposite end. Damian watches as the stranger sneaks one of his hands out from his shroud, leading it toward the flame, his wrist clad in a broken shackle.

“Can I get you something to eat,” the flagellant offers, “A drink? A change of clothes?”

“This is already more than I deserve,” the stranger says, grateful to have a roof over his head. “If it’s alright, I am content to remain here for the night.”

“I could not allow it,” the priest says, anger directed not at this man, but at those who had led him to this helpless state, “Please, let’s get you out of those soaked clothes.”

The holy man reaches for his shroud, intent on divesting him of it.

“Don’t touch me,” the wanderer snarls, jerking away, those eyes flashing as they did once before.

Damian is startled, frozen in place by that feral grimace, by those heaving, ragged breaths. It only lasts a second, a lucid flicker, but the flagellant gleans the wrap of chains hidden beneath his cloak, the sympathy he held for this poor creature growing.

“My apologies,” the priest breathes, realizing his trespass, “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have imposed myself on you.”

His incited guest seems to deflate at that, fearing not for himself, but for what would happen if he should ever part with his binds, even for the sake of good intentions. He couldn’t bear it, especially here in a church, in front of this man who has shown him more humility than most.

“Wait here,” Damian amends, retracting his steps, “I will bring you a towel and blanket at least.”

The morbid priest is gone before he can answer, leaving the abomination on his own to stand near the fire.

{End Preview}

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

I posted 2,748 times in 2022

19 posts created (1%)

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I tagged 2,732 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#elle's queue - 2,468 posts

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Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i saw a tiktok where they put sid the sloth over bruno over bruno's part in the final song and. it was sid. it was sid doing a lin manuel mi

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Didn't Have It In Myself to go With Grace

Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here!) | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 4,228

Warnings: We're getting some minor violence and body horror

Summary: The Doctor takes you and Donna to Arteides for the biggest wedding in the universe. You have a grand time, meeting the queens, taking in the music, and suffering the far too knowing gaze of one particular Queen. The party, unfortunately, is rudely interrupted.

A/N: So firstly, apologies this is so late!! I'm definitely continuing this, thanks for sticking with me! Also I was kinda misleading in the first part. This story will have an unhappy ending, the happy ending comes in the sequel, which is already in the works!

See the full post

118 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

#4

We never go out of style

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,613

Warnings: Suit!13, a ridiculous amount of pining

Summary: Before going to an alien queens function, the Doctor tasks herself to fixing your outfit. There seems to be a bit of tension between the two of you, which isn’t helped when the Doctor begins to... experiment with it. Featuring the season 11 & 12 fam because I miss them. 

A/N: Y’all there’s so much pining in this that I’m tempted to write a sequel, lemme know if you’re interested in that aha. Note: Reader is wearing a dress, but their gender is never specified.

See the full post

208 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

#3

Didn't Have It In Myself to go With Grace

Part 1 (You’re here!) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 1,735

Warnings: None in this installment, major character death and minor violence in future

Summary: You, Donna, and the Doctor, have a conversation over the merits of what counts as a ballgown after you saw Donna wear one. The thing is though, she blatantly denies it.

A/N: This will be a 4 part series, followed by a sequel series with the 13th Doctor. Don’t be too scared by the warnings, the sequel will 100% provide a happy ending, I’ve already written it.  Next part will be (hopefully) posted next week. Hope y’all enjoy!

See the full post

228 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

#2

Falling feels like flying (till the bone crush)

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Reader, Tenth Doctor x Reader, Ninth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2, 243

Warnings: All angst, no happy ending

Summary: Reader is faced with a gross realisation. What everyone has been saying about her is true, she's a flight risk. Now it's up to her to show the Doctor that.

A/N: This entire thing literally only exists because I read Flight Risk by @storytelling-timelord so from one Elle to another, thank you for giving me the jump start I need to get to writing again!! For everyone else, I super recommend reading her stuff!!

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314 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Gravity Keeping You with Me

Pairing: Luisa Madrigal x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,710

Summary: Whilst collecting carts on the edge of town after a freak mudslide, Luisa spots you in the market and is instantly smitten.

A/N: No because I'm obsessed with this woman. So I've bit the bullet and I'm writing for Luisa. Sorry for the length, this was supposed to be a 500 word drabble but,,, it's not,,,

See the full post

429 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sinner-as-saint]

Wreck My Plans.

Mob!Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: Taking time off work, you come back to your hometown for the holiday season, and you decide to go clubbing with a few friends. There, in the middle of the dark, loud room your eyes meet with a pair of familiar blue ones. Ones which you never thought you’d see again after so many years. There he was, your ex-boyfriend; Bucky Barnes. 

Themes: mob!bucky, smut, fluff, 

a/n: i missed my Sin Army. Happy evermore day. And to my Marvel fam, how we doin’ after those trailers?!

Time stopped. 

One minute the music was deafening and the next, you couldn’t even hear it. All you could focus on was your current, erratic heartbeat as you stared into a pair of stormy, blue eyes. They looked darker and much more mesmerizing than you remember. 

His name echoed in your head as a smile formed on your face. Bucky. 

The smile on his face mimicked yours as he walked over to you at the bar, crossing the ocean of drunk people swaying to the music. Amongst the crowd he crossed, were some of your friends who ditched you just minutes ago to go have fun with a pair of dudes they met just upon entering the club. 

You could join them, but rubbing your body against a stranger’s sweaty body was not what you intended to do tonight so you stayed back at the bar. 

Good thing you did so, else you wouldn’t have noticed Bucky on the other side of the room. 

You smiled a little brighter once he stood in front of you. Very, very well dressed in his dark suit. 

“Is it really you?” he spoke, teasing you right away. Just like he used to. 

You smiled and rolled your eyes at him, mainly to hide your nervousness as you realized how much deeper his voice had gotten. Or how much more attractive he was. He had always been a hottie, now even more so. Muscular and tall, even with the suit on you could tell he had a body to die for. 

You and Bucky broke up right after graduating high school. You moved for uni while he stayed behind and joined his family business. It wasn’t a messy break up, just two 18-year-olds deciding to end a relationship and focus on their futures. 

You finished college a few years later then moved again, for your dream job. And now, almost 7 years later, you were back in your hometown for the holidays for the first time in a long time. 

“It is. How have you been, Buck?” 

He smiled and took the seat right beside you. “Great.” he wasn’t lying. “You?” 

You let out a little laugh. “Are we seriously gonna do the whole work and the weather thing?” you asked, and he laughed. 

Oh how you had missed his laugh. It’s been years since you saw him, but everything about him was so familiar it hurt. The way his eyes closed when he smiled or laughed too hard. The blue in his eyes, the crinkles by them. The perfect shape of his nose which you always teased him for. 

Everything about him reminded you of a simpler, happier time of your life. 

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds, then smiled in nostalgia. “You’re just as pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes again, casually ignoring the sparks which flew in between you two. 

“Oh please. Enough about me, what about you? You’re quite the talk of the town I heard.” It was true, they were saying all sorts of things about him ever since you came home. No one knew where he lived, whether he was in town currently or no - he was, you just confirmed it a few minutes ago. 

“Yeah? What have you heard so far?” he spoke with a smirk on. Words didn’t affect him anymore. 

You raised an eyebrow. “So the rumors are true?” 

He chuckled, and signaled the bartender to bring him a drink. You watched each of his actions cautiously. Everything about him screamed power. His stance, his movements, his poise. You had heard around that his dad’s business was doing poorly years ago and he turned to some shady stuff. And he dragged his son along. Something about mob, gangs and illegal stuff. You had trouble believing it at first, because you knew him. You knew Bucky and you couldn’t imagine someone as gentle as him being associated with this side of life. 

But the smirk he gave you proved all those rumors and theories to be true. 

“Oh,” you wondered why you didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. “Well, it suits you.” You scanned him quickly and wondered where you got the confidence to do that. 

You were right, it did suit him. The power, the mean yet magnetic demeanor, the way he could get absolutely everyone to stare at him in awe and fear - truly, it did suit him. 

He smiled and took a sip of his drink, then placed his glass down. “You should be running for the hills, not complimenting me. Is that what your strict, conservative father taught you?” The last part was an inside joke so he couldn’t hide his smile. 

You shook your head. Bucky and your dad never gelled well. Ever. “Leave dad out of this, he still hates you by the way.” your words made him chuckle at some memories. “So now what, you have gangs and guns and stuff?” you asked. 

“Yeah I’m kind of the bad guy around here.” 

You laughed. He stared at you in complete awe and he couldn’t help but smile. He felt it too, the pull or sparks or whatever it was that was preventing him from looking away. Like as though something had tied him to you and he couldn’t get away and he definitely didn’t want to. 

“You’re here with someone?” he asked, looking around and hoping you’d say no because he hated the thought of you being here with another man. Which was weird because he was meeting you for the first time in years, yet he was already feeling so protective. 

And that skin-tight coral dress you were wearing wasn’t helping either. 

“With some girl friends,” you replied and he quietly let out a sigh of relief, “But it seems they’re nowhere to be found.” You looked around and couldn’t see them. They were wild party animals anyways. 

Bucky smiled and got up from his seat, extending his arm out for you to take. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.” 

You took the last sip of your wine and took his hand. You let him guide you to the back of the club. “You know the owners?” you asked, seeing he was so comfortable in the space. He chuckled. 

“I am the owner, doll.” he answered in that cocky, velvety voice of his. And that nickname, that damn nickname brought back so many memories; they came flooding back in like it was no one’s business. 

The first time he kissed you. Prom. That road trip you took together. All the ones you planned but couldn’t take. All the times you snuck out of the house to hang out at his place. The one time you got caught and how your dad almost lost his shit completely. The time you had your biggest fight and didn’t talk for two whole days. How he apologized first for that one. 

You remembered everything. 

He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his slick, black car. He was quiet when he got into the driver’s seat. But the silence was comfortable, like the kind you have around your closest friends and family; where you’re just happy with sharing space and air, just knowing the other is here and not having the need to fill the silence with useless talks. The kind of silence which spoke louder than words ever could. Comforting, and warm. 

He pulled into the entrance of a private property and your eyes widened for a brief moment. “You live here? This is your home?” you asked, a little surprised at the grandeur of the mansion in front of you, which grew bigger and bigger as you approached it. 

“One of my houses, yes.” he replied, cocky as always. 

You playfully scoffed. “Showoff.” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear and laugh at. 

He got out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. You rolled your eyes at his antics, “You don’t have to do all that, you know?” you teased. 

He chuckled and casually reached down to hold your hand in his as he guided you over to the front door. It was chilly out, so he walked a little faster. “Oh come on, I know I’m the bad guy now but I'm chivalrous enough to treat my ex-girlfriend right.” he played along, knowing exactly which word would get a reaction out of you. 

“Ouch.” you pretended to be hurt. He laughed as he ushered you into his home. 

The first thing you noticed were the guards. Then the extravagant foyer which led to the equally extravagant living room. The color theme, the lovely smell of the house, there was something about it which was so familiar, yet you couldn’t place a finger on it. 

“You have a beautiful home, Buck.” you looked around and noticed that the guards had left. 

He smiled and let go of your hand, letting you walk around his personal space for a bit. He could get used to this, the thought popped into his head out of nowhere. He could get used to seeing you in his home. 

“Come on up, you’ll love the library.” he spoke and extended his arm out again. You took his hand and he led you up the large, fancy wooden stairs. 

He was right. You did immediately fall in love with his library/study room. It was everything one dreams of. Spacious, yet cosy. Modern, but with a vintage twist. The right amount of light, but not too much. It was beautiful. 

You walked a few steps further and started noticing the little things; like the mini bar, the unused typewriter on the desk, the scattered papers next to it, the chandelier which made the room look magical. 

“This is beautiful.” you commented as you lazily skimmed through the books on the shelves. You heard him move around glasses in the background. 

“Thank you.” he paused, pouring himself a drink. “You want a drink?” 

You turned to face him for a brief moment. He had taken off his coat, leaving him in his very expensive looking black shirt. “Sure.” you answered, then you turned back around to check out the books and you could feel him staring at your back. You smirked as not so holy thoughts filled your head. 

How would tonight end? You wondered. 

You walked over to his desk and plopped down on his large seat. He walked over as well, placing your glass down and leaning against the edge of the table, staring down at you with a smirk on and a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite understand. 

“What?” you laughed as you took a sip of the liquor. It was smooth, and sweet and left an amazing aftertaste in your mouth as it slid down your throat, burning just a little. It tasted expensive. 

“Nothing.” He replied, softly as he eyed you carefully. “I just can’t believe you’re here, after all this time.” 

You smiled and looked up at him. “Things changed, haven’t they? I mean, the Bucky I knew hated whiskey and brandy. He liked cheap beers and vodka.” you pointed out. 

Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes, shoving a hand in his pocket out of habit. Suddenly he looked much younger and very boyish. “He changed, Y/N.” 

This was the first time he used your name tonight and you felt funny inside. The good kind of funny. 

“Mhmm.” you agreed. “He got meaner.” you teased and stood up from the seat, and looked past him. Right by the couches, was a small coffee table upon which something shiny caught your attention. And being the curious being you are, you walked right over without a second thought. 

“You think?” he sounded playful as he watched you walk over to the coffee table where his guns were kept. He doesn’t usually leave them out in the open like this but he was cleaning them earlier so he left them there. 

Bucky watched how you picked one up and examined it. 

“Yeah,” you spoke up without taking your eyes off the hand gun. “He got dangerous.” You weirdly liked how it felt in your hands. A little heavier than you thought it would be. 

He was surprised at how comfortable you were with this side of him. Another woman would turn the other way and would run. But not you. “Be careful with that, doll.” he warned you softly. “They’re all loaded.” 

You smirked as you placed the gun down and picked up another. And you sensed him tensing up where he stood. 

“Don’t touch that one.” he said calmly. You frowned. 

“Why not?” you asked. 

He placed his glass down and walked over to you. “I’ve done bad things with that one. I’ve hurt bad people.” 

You knew your way around a gun. Your father used to hunt as a hobby so you knew the gun was locked. But just for the hell of it, you aimed it at him and smirked. “Yeah? I think I like this new Bucky a lot better.” 

He smirked, loving the fact that the city didn’t diminish your spunk. He realized then that you were still the same girl he fell for in highschool. “Careful.” he warned again, giving you a soft smile. Seeing you like this made him want to do bad things to you. He felt hot as he watched you aim a gun at him. He didn’t know why. 

“Scared?” you teased, loving the reaction you got out of him. The buzz of the wine earlier and the whiskey just now amplified your confidence and you loved it. 

Oh fuck you looked hot. It made it hard for him to focus on anything else. “Put it down, Y/N.” he kept his devilishly handsome smirk on. You held your ground and it made him groan and roll his eyes. He approached you and you giggled. He carefully took the gun from you and placed it back down on the table, then without another word said, he circled his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Good girls don’t play with those. You used to be so obedient, what happened?” he teased. 

You smirked, finding his body heat really comforting. “I’ve changed.” you purposely repeated his own words, then added, “Maybe I’m not such a good girl anymore.” you purred. He clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly. 

“Don’t tease me baby girl. I’m not as nice as I used to be.” his words made you all hot and bothered. 

You smirked. “Prove it.” 

And just like that, with one look of his, you were under his spell. He smirked and leaned in, purposely avoiding your lips as he gently kissed his way along your jaw. You shivered when his lips touched your neck; leaving soft kisses along the side of your throat while his hand wrapped tighter around your waist. 

He made you whimper and whine, you could feel him smirk against your skin. He pulled away after a while, and held your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, and he looked into your eyes with an intensity which made your body tingle. His thumb soon moved up to touch your soft lips gently. He traced the shape of your mouth and spoke, “I’ve missed you.” he looked down at you softly. 

Your lips parted as he trailed his fingers down your chin, down your neck before he gently wrapped his fingers around your throat, applying just a bit of pressure there. You smirked as you looked up at him. “Not so sassy now, are we?” he sounded cocky and in control, just how you liked him. 

And suddenly all those years which had gone by didn’t mean a thing. You picked up right where you left off. The spark was still there. 

“Buck… please,” you whined under your breath. Oh how he had missed this… 

He chuckled. “Come here, baby girl.” he walked a few steps backwards and plopped down on the couch, pulling you onto his lap where you fit perfectly. A soft, unexpected moan left your lips as he slipped his hand under your dress and inched higher and higher up your leg, and caressed your inner thigh as he went. 

He smirked when you moaned and kept going. He leaned in to kiss your jaw and down your neck; his stubble brushing against your skin gently. His lips warm and soft as they peppered your skin with kisses, making you instinctively tilt your neck to give him easier access. He chuckled when you visibly trembled as his knuckles brushed against the front of the flimsy thong you were wearing. He couldn’t wait to tear it off your body. 

His need to have you grew with each passing moment. Hot, fiery, burning desire. Bucky slipped his hand past your underwear and touched your wet folds, his two fingers circling around your clit, “You’re dripping, doll.” He chuckled as you moaned when he slowly pushed a finger past your entrance. Then another and started gently pumping them in and out of you.

Your body throbbed. You whined, throwing your head back and letting him do whatever he wanted with your body. 

Bucky looked up at you in pure adoration as he placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and brushed it occasionally while he finger-fucked you; your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand; his fingers touched you in all the right places; curling just right and massaging your walls perfectly. His other hand gently wrapped around your neck; not squeezing yet but just holding you firmly. 

You got a little louder as he sped up; his fingers slipping in and out of you with ease and eliciting sounds which turned you on even more. Seeing you were whining and whimpering already, Bucky moved his hand from your throat and pushed two fingers into your mouth; slowly pumped those two as well; an obscene attempt to keep you quiet. 

Your mouth immediately wrapped around his fingers. And he swore under his breath again at the sight of you so salacious and open; his fingers buried in your wet core, slipping in and out of you rapidly while his other two fingers were buried into your warm mouth. The sounds you made alone were enough to make his pants feel tighter; and make him want to devour you even more. You moaned when he sped up again; his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet, almost agonizing pressure forming in between your hips. You felt a rush and a warmth washing over you; intensified by his tight grip at your throat.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll?” he asked, leaning in to just bite your lip; not kissing you properly but just biting down and nibbling on your lower lip and making you go crazy. You whined in pleasure and nodded. He sped up again; and you rolled your hips against his hand in a haze – chasing your orgasm; moaning and whimpering. “Cum for me, come on, babygirl.” He encouraged you and tightened his grip around your throat just a little bit more.

You let the familiar waves of pleasure wash over you as you came all over his fingers; crying out loud in pleasure. Gushing out all over his hand as he kept pumping them in and out of you, getting everything he could out of you. Once satisfied, he removed his hand from your underwear and pulled his hand back from your throat and wrapped both his arms around you and pulled you closer to him, causing your sensitive core to brush against his crotch. And you could feel his erection. 

“You have no idea how bad I’ve missed you, baby girl.” He whispered against your parted lips. “I searched for you, but I couldn’t find a way to get to you.” 

“Buck…” your hands reached up to cup his face and you pulled away just a little to look down at him. “I’m here.” you whispered, breathless still. 

He wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. He finally pressed his lips to yours and kissed you like there’s no tomorrow; there was nothing gentle or innocent about the kiss, just hunger and passion and pure craving. His soft lips moved perfectly against yours through the messy kiss. He moaned through the kiss when you slid your hands into his hair and tugged on it gently. His hands rested on the curve of your ass; holding you close to him as he gently pulled away from the kiss and stared into your eyes. 

He gripped your waist and pressed your cloth core onto his, making you grind against him; causing you to feel his hard on through his pants. You almost moaned at how big and firm he felt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your body shuddered as a wave of pleasure washed over you while you shamelessly rocked your hips ever so gently against his clothed hard on. He smirked at your involuntary actions. 

“Fuck… I need to have you. Now.” he growled before pushing you down on the couch and hovering on top of you. He purposely pressed his crotch down in between your parted legs, making you moan at how fucking big he felt. “You feel that?” he breathed into your ear and made you shiver at how deep his voice sounded. You could almost feel the lust in his voice. “You did that, babygirl.” He pulled away from your face a little to look at you, smirking. 

He kissed his way down your body, sliding your dress down your body while at it. You felt his mouth in between your thighs. Your back arched off the surface of the couch as his tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit and licked down, parting your wet folds with ease. 

Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it gently as he flicked his tongue over your clit over and over again. His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin incessantly, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of.

His deep blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. You came violently all over Bucky’s tongue, body shuddering and shaking while you moaned his name out loud. It gave him a pleasant rush when he heard your strained voice moan out his name. 

He kissed your inner thighs, licking you clean before kissing his way up your body and finding your lips again. He kissed you with ardor; eager to just be inside you already and make you squirm and shake under him, but he also wanted to cherish each moment and worship your body. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goosebumps wherever his fingers touched your skin.

He pulled away for a bit and grabbed both your wrists and pinned them down on the couch above your head. “Keep your hands there for me, baby girl.” He mumbled under his breath and lifted his hips to align his erected cock to your entrance. You instinctively spread your legs apart to give him more room. His hand reached down and he pumped his cock, rubbing it all over your dripping core in the process. You squirmed and moaned when he did so; the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your wet lips, parting them as he circled your clit gently. You shuddered under him; whining in need. Your body begging him to just take you already. 

“Look at me.” He almost moaned as he whispered a little breathlessly, looking intensely into your eyes. The dimmed lights made his eyes look darker than usual, and his face looked dangerously handsome. His voice was deep – which caused the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him. You heard his ragged breaths as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back the sound which escaped your lips. “Fuck…” was all you were able to mutter under your breath as he pulled out of you completely, then pushed back into you again; filling you up entirely.

He sped up just a little, rocking his hips against yours and his hand reached up to wrap around your neck gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth. You could only nod senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you. His lips left your mouth and kissed down your face. You let out a moan as he found your sweet spot, and felt him smirk against your skin. You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

You could no longer keep your hands off him so you reached out and held onto his shoulders; your nails digging into his skin as you felt a pressure forming around your lower region. Bucky quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room. 

The dim light made his eyes look even more piercing than usual. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The new position was much more pleasurable for the two of you; the tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off the couch – your chest pressing against his partially unbuttoned shirt; his body heat radiating through the fabric.

You moaned out loud and he very gently tightened his grip around your throat. His voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. He somehow sounded needy but in control at the same time, and it drove you crazy. You felt your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

“Cum for me, babygirl. Come on.” he panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard.

You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core. Bucky fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and shamelessly told you about it; whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him – wet and warm all for him. You moaned as you felt your second release approaching while the first was still fading. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him.

A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. His large frame hovering above you as he tightened his grip around your throat just a little more. “Cum for me again, come on.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him.

A series of cuss words left your lips as you came for the second time in a row, walls tightening around his length. He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you before slowing down again.

He kissed you again, while you tried to steady your breathing and calm your racing heart. He chuckled when he pulled away to look at how disheveled and messy you were all because of him. His hand left his throat and his thumb traced your lips again, he was mesmerized by how much of a whimpering, tear-stained mess you were. 

“It’s okay doll, I’m right here.” 

---

You woke up in his bed. 

And the flashbacks of the time spent there hit you immediately. 

You felt his arms around you as you peaked from under the blanket to try and reorient yourself. The room was brighter. You checked the time and it was around ten in the morning. 

Well, there goes that family breakfast you promised your parents. 

You felt Bucky stir in his sleep behind you. He peeled one eye open and smiled at the sight of you still in his bed. 

“Morning baby girl,” he said in a deep, groggy morning voice which made your heart flip. 

“I have plans with my family, you know? You’re just, shamelessly wrecking them.” You teased and watched how his smirk grew. His arm tightened around your body, under the covers. His touch was warm and gentle as he tugged you closer to his equally warm body. 

Your bare chest pressed against his and you looked up and stared into his blue eyes. They were so dreamy you still couldn’t believe they were real. 

“Oh please. Admit it, you like it better here with me rather than being confined in that old man’s house.” He rolled his eyes as he mentioned your dad. 

You giggled. Him and your dad always hated each other. 

“Imagine what he’d say once he finds out I’ve been hanging out with the bad guy. Again.” You played along. 

Bucky laughed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’ll deal with him. I’d do anything for you.” he whispered softly, the last part even more so. 

Your heart did that thing where it felt like it was bursting into a millions little pieces in the best ways. The butterflies in your stomach went wild at the sound of his morning voice. You looked up at him and then leaned in to kiss his neck softly. 

“I missed you, you know?” 

“Hmm, I know.” 

You giggled and hugged him tighter. “What now?” you asked, thinking about what would happen two weeks from now, when you’d have to get back to the city. 

His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I was planning on expanding my… business to another city. How is it over there?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face as he waited for your reaction. 

Your eyes widened as you quickly pulled away and sat up on his bed with a shocked look on your face. “You’re moving?” 

He smiled at you. “I’ll go wherever you go at this point. I just got you back, I'm not giving up on us this time.” 

“Are you sure about this? Our lives… they’re so different.” you looked down at your lap as you spoke. “Will we make it?” 

He sat up and leaned against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap, caging you in his arms. “Oh we will.” Then he looked past you for a brief moment, out the floor-to-ceiling windows. He noticed the snow falling delicately. It was truly beautiful, but nothing matched how pretty you looked - messy hair, swollen lips, love bites all over your skin. 

He leaned in to kiss you, then whispered against your lips. “We will make it doll, don’t you worry. Just trust me.” 

a/n: ily.

[kteabug]

you and I, printed in ink

Summary: CEO Bakugo Katsuki stumbles upon a series called My Hero by Deku by chance, but soon he is completely engulfed by the series though the events start hitting a bit too close to home. With the author soon retiring, having more questions than answers about the series, he finds himself at a book signing event. What he wasn't expecting was to find his ex-boyfriend Midoriya Izuku sitting behind the author's table.

Pairings: Bakugo x Midoriya (past tense) | Bakugo x Setsuna

Word Count: 2820

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, unplanned pregnancy, and angst

AN: Based on the Twitter prompt by @/subbbyprincesss ( Link )

To say Bakugo’s irritated would be an understatement. Ever since the announcement of his marriage and fiancee’s pregnancy, work seems to refuse to settle down, mostly due to Setsuna’s declaration that he had been in a relationship when they met. Several of the companies they have contracts with are talking about pulling out, citing his indiscretion doesn't match their image and goes against their policies.

On one hand he can understand where they’re coming from, but on the other hand he couldn’t especially since the prior relationship Setsuna referenced had never been publicly announced. For all they knew, he could’ve simply been seeing someone else casually, but bad press is bad press either way and he gets that.

** “See if we can move my 2 o’clock to a dinner meeting, maybe a few drinks will keep Yagi Enterprises from pulling their contract and call Setsuna’s agent to confirm the time for her next appointment. She wants me there and it’ll look good with the press.”

Bakugo waits several seconds before annoyingly looking up, curious as to why his secretary hasn’t responded to him. He’s a bit shocked to see the blonde woman engulfed in her phone, repeatedly swiping down on her screen, attention clearly far from her boss.

The blonde clears his throat, “I didn’t realize I was interrupting whatever is so important you didn’t hear me.”

The woman pales, words tripping over each other as she rushes to apologize, seemingly forgetting the need to breathe.

Bakugo holds up a hand, not wanting to deal with the clean up if his secretary passed out in his office. “Well, what were you doing?”

Camie awkwardly rubs the back of her neck, embarrassment creeping up her body. “Uhm, well – my favorite author announced his retirement and his final book will have a limited release. I didn’t wanna miss it.”

Bakugo leans back in his chair, unsure of how to feel about what he’s just learned. Part of him had honestly thought she’d say she was messaging a lover or something, not trying to get some special book. Though now thinking about it, when was the last time he had bothered to read something other than corporate jargon, contracts and business emails? Maybe he should check it out since it was good enough to have his usually completely obedient secretary distracted.

** Izuku’s retirement announcement causes his previously published book to quickly run out of stock and get posted on various sites for astronomically high prices. Neither deter the blonde from getting the entire series and fortunately calling in a favor from Yaoyorozu Publishing got him two copies of the final book. He’ll chalk it up as his secretary’s end of the year bonus.

He didn’t have any expectations going in, though Camie did fill him in on the basic premise. My Hero by Deku: a queer series following two boys who grew up childhood best friends turned lovers and the ups and down that came with life and relationships.

He glances down at his watch, he has an hour before his lunch with Setsuna, figuring he’ll read a few chapters and easily put it down in time to leave. He’s completely wrong. At first the dedication page captures his attention.

‘To my image of victory, K.’

Something about it catches him off-guard, though he can’t really explain why. Then as he reads the pages, watches as each character grows individually and then together, there’s just something so raw, so familiar about it all. It isn’t until a furious Setsuna marches into his office that he realizes he’s been reading for over two hours, almost finishing the first book entirely.

Begrudgingly he put the book down, taking an early day to help quell Setsuna’s rage as he promises to take her to her favorite jewelry store. Once she falls asleep, he slowly climbs out of bed and heads to his study where he had the book series dropped off by his secretary. He rereads the dedication, still unable to figure out what about it left his skin feeling prickly, before jumping into where he left off.

He picks up the second book as soon as he closes the first one and that continues through each volume of the series. He hasn’t been this taken by a series since the All-Might comics from his childhood, something he realizes he shared with the main characters of the series. Just like the first, each dedication page makes something inside of him churn and the more it happens, the more frustrated he gets.

‘I’m glad I finally caught up to you, K.’

‘For the love of my life, K.’

Who is ‘K’? Who had helped give birth to this emotional rollercoaster of a series? Then he remembers Camie told him the author is retiring and he can’t help but wonder if this mysterious ‘K’ is the reason behind that. He tries looking it up online, but the social media accounts he finds for Deku are only about his books. The most recent post announcing that he’s planning to have a farewell book signing in a few locations.

** His driver looks back at him, not that he noticed with his nose stuck in the last volume of the series. He has read it three times already, trying to put pieces together that he isn’t entirely sure are there to begin with. That damn dedication has once again got to him, this time however leaving a breath caught in his throat and his mind full of more questions than any of the others had.

‘I guess we reached the end of our journey, Kacchan. I thought I could write our ending as well as I wrote our beginning, but I should have known – the deepest heartbreak can’t be put into words. I’ll  always love you, Kacchan.’

He tries to think his way out of the reality that’s starting to build around him. Tries to think of some other reason for why everything that was written feels so gripping, why each word and each event described felt so familiar. Surely somewhere there’s another ‘Kacchan’ because he couldn’t let himself believe it’s him, that he’s the ‘K’ that is so deeply entangled within the series.

Which is why he was heading to the Tokyo book signing event – to actually see that the author isn’t the freckled-faced man he knew. To allow himself to get off the hook for being the reason for such heartache because the thought makes him sick. But life is cruel, at least that’s what Bakugo thinks when he walks into the bookstore and sees those green curls that filled all of his childhood memories.

“Excuse me?” The voice from behind him is annoyed. “Are you in line?”

“Oh, uhm,” he doesn’t know what to do, “go ahead.”

So this had been what Izuku was typing away at on his laptop any chance he got. He remembers once finding him curled on the couch, frantically hitting each key as if his life depended on it and how Izuku had practically slammed it shut when Bakugo came up behind him.

The dedication once again crosses his mind – we reached the end of our journey – and for the first time he lets himself realize how shitty he treated Izuku the last time they spoke, roughly a year ago. ** They had just gotten back to their apartment, emerald eyes shone as he chatted away about their upcoming trip, making mental lists of everything they needed to pack. He only stopped when the blonde grabbed his wrist, pulling him backwards.

“Kacchan?”

“Setsuna’s pregnant.”

“Oh.” Izuku walked into the kitchen, putting away the groceries they had just bought. He turned to look at his partner, a soft and innocent smile on his face and that nearly gutted the blonde, “do you have a backup model for that shoot?”

Of course Izuku thought it was about work, he never had a reason to think anything else of the comment and Bakugo was about to destroy him. He’d been waiting for weeks to tell him the truth, to confess about his late night excursions, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stand to imagine those emerald-colored eyes looking at him with anything other than love.

“Setsuna’s pregnant.” He watched bright eyes dull as a jaw clenched, “with my child.”

Loose green curls start to shake from side to side, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “No, no, because that would mean…”

Glossy eyes searched ruby red ones for some sign that he jumped to an awful conclusion, that his active imagination took hold of his thoughts, but he didn't find one. He couldn’t because the blonde looked away almost as quickly as his eyes met his, a glimpse of red colored guilt.

“Was it worth it?”

“Izu–”

“Answer me. Was it worth throwing us away? Throwing away years of friendship, of love? Worth ending a five year relationship over?” He ran his hands across his face, mind racing faster than usual.

“I don’t…I don’t know.”

“When did it start? Cause though it’s possible, I doubt it was just one time.”

“Back in March. We met for drinks to discuss her contra–” Bakugo stopped when Izuku glared at him, holding up a hand to stop him.

“So while I was away taking care of my sick mother, you were balls deep in some…some…UGH!” He stormed out of the kitchen, roughly dragging his fingers through his hair as he marched into their bedroom.

He had done everything for Katsuki. His whole life had been about him. From his childhood memories painted with youthful excitement over All-Might and playing pretend to their teenage years as he could only stand there watching the distance between them grow and finally to adulthood where they finally fell into each other’s arms.

His world, for 26 years, revolved around ash blonde hair and a bad attitude. Putting Katsuki before himself on several occasions because having him in his life was better than being without him. Izuku had even agreed to keep their relationship a secret, away from the cameras and spotlight so it didn’t interfere with how people perceived the blonde and his ability to perform his CEO duties. But what did that even matter now?

Tears blurred his vision as he grabbed whatever clothes he could from the various drawers he pulled out before he yanked clothes from the closet, stuffing them in a suitcase. He could hear Katsuki saying something but the blood that was rushing in his ears muffled most of it. Izuku didn’t care, how could it? Everything he ever did, all the choices that he made, none of it meant anything anymore.

“Izuku.”

Nothing. The greenette ignored him, maneuvering around the blonde to the bathroom and then the living room, snatching things to shove into the bag. Katsuki followed him around, frantically trying to get him to just stop and listen, increasingly growing more angry with each ignored plea.

“Izuku, fuck, just sto–” His sentence was cut off when the heavy black bag was shoved into his chest, confusion coating his face.

“Get out.” Izuku finally broke the silence.

“No, we need to talk.”

Izuku pointed at the door. “Get. Out.”

“Would you just fucking listen!?!” Katsuki was trying to remain calm, but he wasn’t being allowed to talk, to explain and it was chipping away at his patience.

“Will talking change the fact you slept with her? Will it change the fact that she’s pregnant?” He doesn’t wait for Katsuki’s response, “no, it won’t. We have nothing to talk about. Leave now.”

“No, dammit, talk to me!”

Izuku started to push Katsuki toward the door, repeatedly saying “just leave”.

Something snapped in the blonde. He had been trying to get Izuku to just listen, to hear him out because regardless of the pregnancy, he wanted to be with him but the greenette refused to just stop and give him a moment to explain. He couldn’t take it anymore, shoving Izuku backwards, his temper taking full control.

“Fine, fuck!” All he could see was red, ignoring the way Izuku was starting to finally crumble. Katsuki turned to open the door,but then stopped, barely bothering to glance over his shoulder. “It’s not like we could ever be more than this anyways.”

He pulled the door shut harder than he needed to, knowing that his partner, well ex-partner now, was finally letting himself fall apart. But what could he do? What he said wasn’t a lie. The lie had been the two of them pretending they could ever be more than what they were. That they could ever openly claim their relationship, ever start a family, or ever look like more than roommates to their friends. In some twisted way, Bakugo allowed himself to see his infidelity as a saving grace, something that in the long run would save him and Izuku from more pain down the road.  

** “The book signing will end in fifteen minutes. If you want to get in line, please do so now.” A man with two-toned hair announces before leaning down to whisper something to Deku.

Bakugo makes his way to the line, letting whoever gets behind him cut so that he can be the last in line. He really should’ve thought this plan out because now that he’s here, nothing he had planned on saying sounds good enough. For the first time in his life, he’s starting to second guess his decision on coming here.

He could slip out now, pretend that he had never stepped foot in the bookstore. He had been horrible to Izuku the last time they saw each other, even going as far as sending Kirishima to gather the rest of his things from their apartment. Izuku looks like he’s been doing fine, what right does he have to disturb that?

“Uhm, sir? Are you in line?”

He looks over and sees the same man who made the announcement looking at him with a curious expression. Bakugo now realizes that he’s just been standing there, roughly ten steps from the table and that he’s the only one left around them.

“Fuck, I mean, uh, yes I am.” He quickly closes the gap, sitting his copy of the final installment on the table in front of Izuku.

“Who do I make th…” Izuku freezes, finally looking up at the man on the other side of the table. He tries to swallow the panic that’s climbing up his throat but his mouth is too dry. Never in a million years would he have imagined this happening. How did he even know he had written the books? Why was he here? He had made his feelings clear months ago.

“I didn’t know you were the author until I walked into the bookstore and I’m here because…well I don’t know. I guess part of me figured it was vain to think these books were about us and wanted to prove myself wrong. And for the record, I was an ass months ago.”

Izuku curses his mumbling, picking the pen up as he opens to the title page of the book. “Would you like it addressed to Bakugo or Katsuki?”

“Are those my only options?”

Izuku bites the inside of his lip, trying to keep it from trembling. He just wants this interaction to end, to leave the bookstore and go back to his apartment. He hates this feeling that’s tightening in his chest as the blonde looks at him like a wounded animal. As if he had been the one that broke them apart. He starts to scribble a message, letting the words just flow from the tip of the pen.

“Thank you for purchasing my book. Have a lovely night.” There’s a forced smile on Izuku’s face as he recites the same line he told everyone after signing the book(s) they brought. For some reason it just sounds like nails on a chalkboard to Bakugo.

Without much thought, he reaches for Izuku’s wrist as he gets up to leave. Izuku quickly holds up a hand to the two-toned haired man who starts to intervene before emerald eyes look at him.

“Is there something else you wanted to say?”

There’s a lot he wants to say, but doubts any of it will hold the meaning he wants. He could say I’m sorry, but what’s that worth now? He could ask how he’s been, but he’s not privileged to that information anymore. He could even see if he’d want to get a coffee, but he doesn’t even know if he still drinks it.

“Deku, huh?” Bakugo lets go of his wrist, looking down at the cover of the book “you’re far from useless, Izuku.”

“It stands for ‘I can do it’. At first it meant I can write our story.” Green eyes lock onto red ones, a soft smile on his lips, “but now it’s for I can get over you.”

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[rants-of-an-ecologist]

Endeavour Morse: Human Disaster

Me and my Morseverse Discord fam were talking earlier about Morse and Joan and why they never worked and why Morse is such a disaster and I just had to note it all down.

It started when we were discussing fanfic and what Morse would say if he was being crabby and it was noted that he’s crabby with Joan for most of season 6.

Morse and Joan are always so disconnected from each other. They’re both interested overall but never at the same time. they’re just never on the same page.  She makes a subtle move one minute and he rejects her then vice versa only, at the end of season 5, her rejection is pretty permanent so when she tries being nice to him in season 6 he makes it difficult for her because he never reacts well when he’s hurting. He gets defensive and mean, the walls go up.

There’s been a fair few people commenting on how Strange is being paired with Joan now and why he’s the better fit for a relationship and fundamentally Morse is a disaster when it comes to relationships, and Joan can be at times, and Morse seems to bring out Joan's more disastrous side. They communicate terribly. The silly man randomly proposed marriage to her as a response to her being in a bad situation when he still hasn't managed to call her Joan rather than Miss Thursday at any point, because he is just The Most.

So yes. Strange is steady, kind, reliable, has been calling her "Joanie" for years, and can actually talk to her without falling verbally over his feet or randomly being grumpy at her...

Basically, he’s like Fred.

Morse is…Morse.

It’s noticeable that it's the bank hostage situation that makes Morse finally realise his feelings for Joan. He's desperately attracted to situations and people that make him feel intensity and passion and emotional danger, and going through that experience with Joan is what makes everything click into place. When he finds someone who is just lovely to him and awesome - Monica being the obvious example - he's not as invested, even though he does have feelings there. And the rest of the time he's drawn to murderers and victims and others who are deeply troubled and/or awful. Or people like Claudine, who's far less into him than he's into her and he knows he's going to get hurt at some point. Massive massive emotional masochism and honestly? Dearly as we love Morse, Joan's probably well out of it.

Makes us wonder what he’d have been like if Constance had lived. Far far more sorted, for sure. Probably vastly kinder to himself and with a far more positive view on relationships. Much greater ability to trust that he's capable of being loved, also. He probably lives with the conviction that all of the Thursdays will start rejecting him at some point. And everyone else whose good opinion he cares about too.

Other than his mother his whole life has been rejection. His father didn’t know what to do with him, Gwen hated him. Then Susan left him for someone else and Oxford kicked him out. The police made no secret that they didn’t know what to do with him.

Also this, right there, is partly why we so so want things to end well with Fred and Morse. Because Fred chose him. And kept choosing him. Fred has never rejected him, at least never long-term (even though there have been times when they've been awful to each other, it's never lasted and Fred has always come back to choosing him again).

And it matters also that Max's friendship is one he'll have for years, and that Strange also will have his corner even when they can't remotely understand each other. And that when Morse chooses Lewis, Lewis will choose Morse right back. We think it's Fred that taught Morse that he could be liked and chosen and not-rejected, even if only by a tiny handful of people.

(If things do end badly between Morse and Fred,  that will actually cause some continuity problems with Inspector Morse because Morse in the 80s/90s/00s is capable of believing that he can be chosen and liked, even though he does find it difficult. And Fred and him falling out permanently would undermine that capacity.)

We hope you enjoy our Endeavour Ted Talk. All credit to my fellow authors @momonne2022 @mywingsareonwheels @astridcontramundum @endeavour12345 and everyone who isn’t on Tumblr.

[cloudspotterclub]

celestial (j.b.b.)

Pairing: farmhand!bucky x fem!reader

Summary: You reflect on the summer you've spent on the farm where you met Bucky.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mild injury, extreme fluff, questionable accuracy to actual farm life and horses

a/n: Sometimes I read Bucky's voice in a southern accent in fics and I just had the overwhelming urge to put him on a farm.

She’d never get tired of seeing the stars.

She remembered seeing them every night when she was little, even in the big city she grew up in. Gradually, though, they faded away and were replaced by the city lights. More vibrant and colorful, sure, but incapable of granting the wishes she often sent up. Being able to see a sky full of them again was one of the best parts about her summer so far.

A cool breeze sent small shivers up her arms, but she wasn’t ready to return to the busy dining room quite yet. She folded her arms and leaned forward on the porch just outside the front door despite the persistent wind causing her white sundress to billow out around her. It didn’t give her the shelter she needed from the cool night air, nor did the cowboy boots that had become her choice of footwear for the last six weeks. But she didn’t care—she’d gotten accustomed to the slight chill during the nights and the sweltering heat during the days. The air was more breathable here than in the city, regardless of weather.

She perked up at the sound of the door creaking open, but didn’t bother turning around. She’d also gotten used to the arms that wrapped around her whenever they could.

She slowly turned to meet Bucky’s piercing eyes, which she used to think were icy blue, but she’d seen them be everything from a smokey gray to a dazzling aquamarine.

His arms settled where they always did around her waist as he pulled her in ever so slightly. “Hey, doll, whatcha doin’ out here? Whole fam’s missing you in there.”

He didn’t really need to ask—he knew she liked being alone just to take it all in. He didn’t understand it when she first told him that. Life on the farm was all he had ever known, and as far as he was concerned, nothing much ever happened around here. He didn’t see why this city girl would sign up for their annual volunteer program in the first place, let alone act as though this place was a secret garden she’d discovered.

He supposed that’s how he acted too the first time he’d visited New York City when he was a child. He still got giddy whenever he got to travel. Eventually, he came to understand why she loved the land he grew up on. With every story she told about her sanitized existence as a girl whose entire life was already planned for her at twenty, he began to see how all her pieces fit. Still, he thought she was crazy to turn down an internship at her father’s law firm for a job on the farm she didn’t need. Especially one that sometimes entailed shoveling manure.

“I don’t mind,” she had claimed. “I like being in the stable, lets me bond with the horses. You know Daisy gets antsy when she’s left alone for too long.”

He’d been surprised at how fast she took up riding, since she seemed to struggle with nearly everything else at first. None of the other volunteers nor Bucky’s family had the heart to tell her how undercooked her eggs were when she got her first breakfast assignment. After a quick lesson from Bucky’s cousin, though, everyone was raving about her fluffy scrambled eggs. It seemed she always needed to do it wrong before getting it right, as was the case with horseback riding.

She’d only been at the farm for two weeks then, but she was already insisting that Bucky teach her while they had a slow afternoon.

“Come on, Bucky! Daisy loves me and I promise I’ll wear all the safety gear you have.” She whined, gripping at his bicep.

He frowned as he looked between her and the mare that towered over her much smaller frame. As comfortable as he was around horses, he also knew that animals were nothing if not unpredictable. One wrong move and she could be on the ground with a broken arm or worse.

He gently removed her hand from his arm, taking it into his hands instead. “I don’t know, doll, it’s really a lot more dangerous than they make it seem on TV. Daisy’s the gentlest of ‘em, but she’s still got a mind of her own sometimes.”

She felt guilty pushing for this when she could see the concern so clearly plastered on his face, but she was nothing if not determined. If it wasn’t for her constant attempts to talk to him, they might never have become close in the first place. She’d noticed how he kept to himself from the start, and made it her mission to make him feel welcome among the volunteers even if they were on his turf. It had started with an innocent offer to go into town together for supplies, which quickly turned into daily walks at sunset after their chores were done. Soon enough, he was bidding her goodnight with a kiss.

Bucky knew he was whipped the second he laid eyes on her, and she had made it very difficult to say no to her ever since.

With one final, exaggerated pout, he caved. “Fine. But you’re keepin’ a helmet on the whole time.”

She squealed, quickly reaching for the riding gear as he began leading Daisy out of her stall. Bucky quietly huffed as he leaned in to stroke her chestnut mane, “Now, you be good with my girl here, Daisy. She’s the best thing I got.” The horse let out a small snort.

Ten minutes later, she was situated atop Daisy, letting Bucky guide the horse from the ground as she adjusted to the feeling. She didn’t know what Bucky was so worried about—Daisy was as stable as they came, and all she could feel was the steady shifting of the mare’s muscles as she slowly trotted around the perimeter of the riding ring.

That was until the wind blew a discarded plastic bag straight into Daisy’s path. She learned then that horses didn’t like that very much, and even Bucky was no match for the panicked 2,000 pound Clydesdale.

The next thing she knew, she was on the ground with a bump on her head and a very concerned brunet tapping her cheek. “Shit, doll, are you alright? You were out for a while there.”

Her pupils darted around as she tried to focus on him through the blurs in her vision, which didn’t do anything to calm his nerves. He nervously scanned over her body, and despite not seeing any visible damage, refused to risk her safety twice that day. “Okay, we’re takin’ you to the doc, yeah? C’mon, let’s go.” He slipped his arms beneath her knees and back, lifting her with a slight grunt. “Good-for-nothing helmet, damn strap broke.”

During the quick trip to the small infirmary, which Bucky’s parents had built decades ago when they found out they were expecting, she learned that one of the other farmhands had led Daisy away after she’d been knocked off and taken a hoof to the head. She figured it was the shock that kept her from feeling anything. Bucky was more concerned about the fact that she had been so quiet, and walked as quickly as he could without breaking into a jog.

The doc diagnosed her with a mild concussion, nothing too serious, and Bucky finally calmed down after she started talking again. It took another week to get him to let her try riding again, with much more success this time.

Bucky’s words brought her back to the moment they were in. “Hey, you’re doing it again. What’s on your mind, darlin’?”

She shook the memories away, smiling fondly up at the man holding her. “You. Us. I’m just thinking about how far we’ve come. It’s been less than two months but it feels like I’ve been here for a lifetime. Feels like I’ve known you for a lifetime.”

He allowed his lips to twitch into a smile before pulling her all the way to his chest, resting his head atop hers. “Don’t get all mushy on me now, doll,” he murmured into her hair.

She gave his waist a squeeze as she attempted to bury herself farther into him. “Hush, you’re infinitely mushier than me.”

He sighed, “Can’t help it when you walk in everyday lookin’ like that. Don’t know how anyone can see anything but you.”

“See,” she craned her head up to give him a pointed look. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

He rolled his eyes, but failed to fight off the grin taking over his face. He didn’t really mind losing this kind of argument with her. In fact, he rather enjoyed the satisfied look on her face each time she bested him.

“Alright, let’s get back inside before your mom finds us canoodling out here.”

“Canoodling? You’ve been spending too much time with her, doll.” His lips curl into a sly smirk, “You know, if we’re going to get lectured, we might as well get in trouble for somethin' we’re actually doing.”

In spite of his impish tone, Bucky kissed her the way he always did—soft and slow, with one hand tenderly cradling her face, like it was the last thing he’d ever do. She thought she’d never tire of the way his lips captured hers, or the way his forehead and nose lingered against hers when they pulled apart.

As his adoring gaze bore into her, she silently thanked the universe once more. For the stars in the sky, and the ones reflected in his eyes.