#what is something so cute doing in such a ridiculously dark chapter

[bunji-enthusiast]

One Whole, Became Two

Note || this took me so long to write, but I love this stupid idiot platonically. Chapter three my sleep-deprived folks 👍🏻

WC || 3,312

<(part 1)><(previous part)><(you are here)>

Sypnosis || you bring back a dear old dead heart to a wounded dog.

If someone ever told you that you would’ve come back to a desolate factory full of death and damnation you would tell them that in what world in which would that happen? You never would’ve heeded their words.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You hated being wrong.

Yet, many things may have happened, some of which allowed you to get in some exercise… you also gained some new friends. They are very near and dear to you, despite the small numbers you retain in your ragtag group of allies. You preferred the terminology friends, you’ve gotten close with Kissy Missy and Poppy, even DogDay too!

Speaking of which, this accursed Playcare was still a little too dark for your liking. You needed more power, more light to go the right way necessary. A light chuckle breaks you out of your thoughts, “A-angel, do you need some help?” DogDay inquired, watching as you had tried to remember which way he had pointed to the medical station.

You shook your head egregiously, trying to affirm your belief as you spoke, “I got it… I swear I know which way it is!” Your shoulders slumped as you let out a defeated sigh, having to hate asking him for help.

Asking for help wasn’t necessarily your most favorite thing in the world, in for the most of miniscule of things. You thought it was ridiculous, insipid to do, in no way would you ever ask for said help unless you really were struggling.

Apparently as of right now, these were one of those moments that you were truly struggling, and it was with directions as well. You couldn’t be any more ashamed, “Could you m-maybe tell me where it was again?”

DogDay let out an amused bark, not merely in making fun of you. He thought you were just cute, the way you were embarrassed, though DogDay will never actually admit this feeling to you. “Okay, Angel, you see that sign over there? It points to the direction of the medical station.” Your large companion points to the sign in question, you sorely cannot miss it no way, his paw was big. Actually, it’s nearly the size of your head.

“Ah, focus!”

The pathway was riddled with broken cobblestone and dirt, but do-able to make your way through. You just hated broken paths, no trouble still.

You nod to let him know you saw it, walking over to the sign that was now a few pacings away from you. The silence had now settled in place for the lack of conversation, it was seemingly getting awkward enough as is. Suddenly, a new voice interjects on the radio of your walkie-talkie.

“Oh there you are! I wasn’t able to connect to you on that side of the dome!” His light voice carried an undercurrent of worry. “No ouchies or lost body parts?”

DogDay raised a brow as you two had continued making your way to the medical station. You nodded your head curtly, as if angling your head to signify you’d explain the kid on the radio at a later time. You spoke out in reply, knowing full well you weren’t in any real danger at the moment, “I’m uh, I’m fine Ollie. Just taking care of a friend, they got hurt… real bad.” A wince left your throat at the tone you carried within your words, you didn’t expect that.

A thought rushed into your head, “Why’d I word it like that? I guess I’m just worried about revealing DogDay to Ollie just yet.” DogDay patted your leg as to reassure you, eyes gleaming as if they were smiling down upon you. 

“Alright, you can introduce me later,” Ollie paused, as if he were hesitating to get the words out of his mouth. As if something was holding him back from doing so, “Take care of them first then I’ll tell you what to do next. See you!”

Then, the radio was now silent. You let out a breath you held in your lungs, sometimes forgetting to breathe reminds you to even breathe manually. An odd habit but nobody will nitpick that for the life of all there is to know and exist. 

An abrupt cough shocked you out of your thoughts, you immediately became concerned for DogDay who had been patiently waiting for your dilemma and conversation to end. You knelt down and checked over his body, “No need to worry.” You lodged his resistance in the back of your head, looking for any external wounds beside the most obvious ones. 

“I shouldn’t have stopped.” You murmur, gently picking him up. There was no way you’d let him drag himself along the floor, not until he was in a better state.

“We’re alright Angel,” DogDay sputtered, you were unimpressed, not phased by his words. “Really… but who was that if I may ask?” 

Steadily, you continued walking–the stupid medical station finally in reach. “Ollie, apparently sometime after I dropped down here he told me he was an ally of Poppy.” You then trailed off, not sure if you wanted to mansplain the entirety of the story down right to when you came across DogDay. Sighing, you begrudgingly open the door to the station.

The room was messy, akin to the state of many other locations in Playcare. But in your modest opinion, you truly did not care about that. You just really needed to fix up DogDay, and he was the focal point of your attention right now. “Angel, you seemed to be incredibly bothered.” 

DogDay shifted on the weight of his body as you began setting him down, if you were being truthful, you couldn’t refute that very fact. Yet you felt too angry to get the words across, “I know, I.. I guess this stupid factory just has me all on edge.”

Then a silence settled into place, as neither of you were unsure of what to say next. Everything and nothing was happening all at the same time. You walked over the ruined carpet, it looked as if it was made in the 1980’s. Some doors seemed to be torn off of it’s hinges, but at least the supplies were barely stolen. There was enough to treat DogDay properly, as much as you can manage within your knowledge anyway.

The hard part would be treating DogDay, (as you unfortunately didn’t have enough knowledge medically) and getting him his legs back so he could walk on his own as well. 

Gently, you opened a door to a closet, full of bandages and gauze. 

“Perfect timing, guess I didn’t need to look that hard.” You thought to yourself, your hands already grabbing the bandages and gauze. A small smile graced your cracked lips, carrying a genuine air with you, “Hey, DogDay I found some supplies. Looks like they left this place pretty untouched.” You waved at him, holding the aforementioned supplies in hand. 

DogDay perked up from where he had been looking at some stray medical papers, most likely files of every patient to come in and out of the station. “Oh!.. Thank you greatly. You really are an angel my friend.” You become bashful at his words, an embarrassed chuckle leaving you as you scratched the back of your head. Standing up you walk back over to the large dog, motioning for DogDay to position himself to where you can get to all the spots correctly.

You sighed, having to take a moment in order to set yourself into focus, this was important. You didn’t want to screw up something so crucial to DogDay’s health, “Ok, This might hurt a little so bear with me.” You warn, crouching down as you laid out the supplies.

“I have no doubt you will do fine!” DogDay encouraged you, settling down to be calmer for you. Fine, yes you can do fine. Okay well enough maybe, you just need to be careful!

Why was this so difficult?

“Stupid brain, Stop giving me all these thoughts!” You groan lowly, setting into place to mend his more major wounds with a contemporary suture. First off, you needed to clean the suture, to which you had quickly done. 

You gently pressed a wet rag to the most prominent area, cleaning it out of any debris that might be left behind in the wound. DogDay was simply listening and quiet upon your actions, clearly a little too impressed for your liking. You swabbed the wound with water then threw away the rag a few meters from you, you internally winced at that. 

Injuries are a major case for you ever since you stepped foot into this factory, you just never expected to be having to treat another person (or toy for that matter). 

“Angel?” You let out a hum in reply, suturing the wound as he spoke. “You seem… incredibly bothered, maybe you should try to talk about it.” DogDay shifted slightly, wincing a little as he had done so. Concern washes over your expression as you went to hold him, he held out a hand to reassure you he was fine.

“Well.”

You sat back on the heel of your foot as you thought about it for a moment, your brows knitted together. It was practically hurting your head, giving you a headache to be thinkin about every little thing that was running through your head.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line, unsure of whether or not to air your concerns. But it seems you weren’t gonna have any other chance to talk about it then right now, you just didn’t wanna dump everything on DogDay all at once. 

Practically would seem like a lot. Far too much to say and too little to be sure of. 

“I guess I’m just concerned over whether or not I really can trust Poppy,” You signal, having a habit of talking with your hands. “And this, Prototype guy… didn’t you say CatNap worships this thing like a god?”

He nods, “Yes, I didn’t join the Prototype. Which is why he had deemed me a heretic.” You frown at his words, nobody deserves that type of treatment. Making it even worse, you would assume the two used to be very good friends. 

“Oh dear,” You echo, recoiling suddenly in embarrassment for voicing something you didn’t realize slipped out of your mouth. DogDay laughs at this, waving his hand as he sits himself upright so as to not slip onto his back, “You are very much correct Angel.” He nods, “If anything, he’s no longer the old CatNap I’ve come to know him as.”

You shrug, a little unsure of the situation right now. Then a thought you finally needed ran across your mind, “Hey, would you happen to remember where your legs are or if… any spare ones laying around anywhere?” You motion around the room as you spoke, voice trailing off as you sat back, and awaiting DogDay’s response. He appeared to be deep in thought, clearly thinking about your question.

“I believe they have some spares in a storage room at this station,” DogDay gestures at the specific door he thought of in mind. “But Angel, I might be wrong. Don’t trouble yourself for my sake beyond this.” His voice strains, as if pleading. 

You chewed your lips, nodding your head once more as you headed to the door of origin. You quietly crept into the room, seeing how dark and dank it was. Slowly but surely your eyes had adjusted to the light. 

“Now, where are you… stupid legs.” You mutter, taking notice of some poppy gas that laid in wait in the corner, not to mention how badly scratched this room was in particular. Probably the work of CatNap or some other toy. On instinct, your legs drove you forward as you stepped into the gas with a gas mask inset upon your face. You certainly didn’t feel like dying from the gas, or passing out for that matter.

You had a debt to pay.

Your eyes wandered aimlessly as you palmed around for the supposed legs, feeling around for each and every inch possible that you might miss. 

Suddenly you felt a fuzzy feeling run up across your arm, you jostled in surprise, a happy squeak leaving your throat when you pick up the legs. “Thank you, sweet baby jesus.” You huff in reprise, feeling accomplished at the place of convenience.

If you could laugh right now, it would be possible, heaven sure as hell wasn’t a place for angels anymore. Not even you, but you still had to follow through, you came here in the first place anyway.

A small sigh left your esophagus as you turned, walking back through as you made careful note not to trip walking back too. 

Something had your mind occupied, demons infested this place. Elliot Ludwig had created this place, and if he so proclaims to want to bring joy to thousands upon thousands of children around the world then why would he permit the experiments. All those children and the elderly… your heart couldn’t help but ache at the mere thought. 

You shake your head to get your mind out of the unilluminated gutter, DogDay lit up upon seeing you in his sights once more. “Angel, you are alright.” He mentions, paw held to his chest as if he were breathing a sigh of relief.  

Your nose was scrunched as you gutted a snort, “You say that like it’s so surprising DogDay.” DogDay shrugs, as if he was now expressing the vulnerability of being embarrassed at the prospect of his own words. 

“Ah I’m just joking with you,” You wave him off, DogDay remains silent at this, not having any thought at what to say back to you. You were right though, he shouldn’t be doubting you for what even anyone in particular is worth. Being freed for what feels like the first time in forever had been leaving him with brand new thoughts, even though he had been thinking and left well alone for nearly over a decade now.

One door closes, infinite more are open. One must beware the foreign class, otherwise you may as well see yourself dead. 

“I truly do apologize for Poppy’s actions… we all mean well.” DogDay begins, trailing off into nearly an inconceivable silence. You set down the legs, to which DogDay is delighted at this brand new aspect, yet still left without room to be uncouth. You didn’t speak at all, pressing between the fine line of the truth and his own words. 

“We must, break the circle.”

What?

“Angel?”

“You all are chained, if whatever happened all those years ago were true…” You sigh, rubbing the nape of your neck as you find yourself in an air of awkwardness. “Then I am also at fault for the way you guys are right now.” 

DogDay’s brows drew together, upset that you feel guilty for the entirety of this fortnight. At least it had felt that way for you, you sincerely had lost track of time since your watch had gotten destroyed. You tried keeping up with the time on the clocks you pass by, but you just generally had lost the energy and motion in doing so.

“Hmn.” He muttered to himself, then got up to hug you, which had clearly surprised you as you felt yourself being enveloped and wrapped in a very fluffy hug. You sigh and decompress after a few moments, the shock finally leaving your body.

“Thanks… DogDay,” You motion, patting the fluff resting upon his chest. “I actually really needed that, hugs are a rarity.” You admit, blush burning on your cheeks as you look away from him in a manner of speaking. You hear a chuckle interrupted by a cough, “Don’t thank me, you seemed to really need it Angel. Being exhausted is one thing, but no hugs?”

DogDay drew a paw to his chest as he spoke dramatically, “That is absolutely unacceptable!” Your hand crossed over your mouth, trying to stifle a laugh at what a drama king DogDay was posing as at this very moment. 

“You kinda remind me of someone I know.” You motion, then sat on the heels of your feet as you immediately went back to work in fixing up DogDay. 

“How so?” 

“You're pretty bright, act like a drama king sometimes and you even can be a little mean…” You wag a finger as you see him begin to protest at the mean comment, “I don’t mean like in a rude manner, just like in a brotherly way. You kind of act like a big brother sometimes.” You shrug with a hint of finality, fixing up his other injuries and repairing them with a gentle hand, even if the suture seemed to betray the tremble displayed. 

After silence had continuously settled in once again, you sigh, angling at the fact on what to do in order to mend DogDay’s very obvious injury with his lack of legs attached at the bottom of his torso. For a moment, you meander with the decision.

“Right, I’m gonna try my best to reattach them to you.” You spoke with a benign tone, more so displaying your own distrust of yourself. You hated that, you practically hated everything so why is this any different.

You just have to do it scared. 

Familiarity reigns over your heart as you see his large paw lay over your own hand, you sigh, sensations shuddering your body as you keep yourself calm. You silently thank DogDay as you gesture that you were okay now, you can be fine on your own.

You push the legs to his upper half, just barely enough that it would appear as if the legs were there and back again already. Your hand wanders over to the middle line, your eyes glaze over with forlorn worry taking your very worried brain. You sigh as you begin stitching, taking careful caution as you notice him flinching quite a few times throughout the process. At a leisurely pace, you notice by the influence you had made by taking care of him how much better he looks physically. 

Soon enough, you manage to completely stitch his legs back to right where they belong. “Well done, I knew you could do it Angel!.” DogDay shook with excitement, reassuringly glad at the prospect of being able to actually walk again. You swear you could collapse at the relief, you hold out a finger before you let him get excited any further, “I still need to bandage it all together, extra precaution if you catch my drift.”

Your large dog companion nods in understanding, shifting about so his body parts don't get sore from sitting in one place for too long. 

From before, grace was high in patriarchy, now then you were sure it was something high to fall from. You could climb to the top (bottom to be literal) and rip the Prototype off of his high horse, and free all the surviving toys. 

You shook your head, trying to calm yourself at the buzzing excitement that had resonated deep-seated into your heart. You quickly went to work on bandaging the middle line of his torso, carefully curating it enough so the bandages would cover the stitches completely. 

“There, now we are done and good to go!” You look up at DogDay, offering him a soft smile. “Angel really… thank you so much.” He gestures for you to come closer, so you oblige and go in, suddenly you feel yourself being hugged by unabashed warmth. You yelped as air bloomed across your skin, seeing as you are now in the air quite a few feet off the ground.

DogDay really was hugging you with the whole of his heart, so you melt into his touch, relenting as you found defeat–yet also peace with your furry friend.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!! How do you think potential meet cutes with Jason would go? Do you think he’d be instantly smitten? He strikes me as the type to get a crush on you since the first meeting but maybe I’m just delusional 🥰

My honest opinion but I don’t think Jason likes smut books. He doesn’t mind a little bit of smut but would much prefer if it was nonexistent or didn’t take up a ridiculous amount of pages/chapters in the book in general.

I’m also a delusional twat anon who believes Jason would feel something upon first meetings, but firstly I have to heavily disclose that most of your run ins with one another would be in a book store/cafe, at least more so then anywhere else. (Book reader Jason supremacy!)

So to say that your interest was peaked upon first spotted a six foot something, beast of a man standing in front of the romance section, holding two different books -which were both written by the Jane Austen- in each hand was an understatement.

Normally you wouldn’t expect a man like Jason in the romance section of a small, quite but quaint bookstore/cafe, withholding an internal conflict over some books in his head as though his life depended on it. However the fact still stands that you deeply appreciate a man with good taste in his personal readings, and wasn’t afraid to indulge in the romance genre.

It probably also didn’t help that he was a conventionally attractive man with short dark hair with a tuft of white embedded in his fringe and wearing a simple read hoodie and jeans, a simple attire that anyone could wear, but on him he made it seem as though it were a main staple of his wardrobe.

Jason, knowing when he’s being watched, as quick to look over his shoulder but what he wasn’t expecting was to see someone as cute and stunning as you standing there. He’s a little tongue tied but that was mainly from surprise, and for all of Jason’s hard attempts of trying to act natural, it only made for a spectacle that you couldn’t help but view as endearing and kinda cute.

‘You alright there?’ You’d ask with a smile.

‘Yeah. I’m good, fine even.’ Jason replied, internally cursing himself for being caught off guard because he was too involved in debating which book to take home to read.

‘So…You like Jane Austen?’ You asked, trying to make room for a conversation to occur between the two of you.

‘Wha-‘ Jason looks down at the books in either of his hands and chuckles. ‘Yeah, she’s one of my favourite alongside the likes of Mary Shelley and Louisa May Alcott.’ He answers and he could tell that he had gotten your approval with the little hum of acknowledgment.

‘Do you come here often?’ You then said before adding with an awkward laugh of your own, ‘I mean I come here quite frequently as it’s the only bookstore in town that has proper books that aren’t smut books, and i have never seen you before until well…today.’ Jason smiles, finding himself growing to like you with every passing moment as he felt himself grow relaxed within your presence, especially now that he had long deducted that you weren’t a real threat.

‘I’m with you on that pretence, it’s seems that nowadays all the bookshelves in most stores are prominently smut books of lacklustre quality and story structure.’ Jason agreed, noting being a fan of those types of books himself, Jason had found it becoming increasingly difficult to find decent books that weren’t smut, badly written girl boss self inserts, or just poorly written in general. So when he stumbled across this little book store on his way home and took a chance by entering the store, only to find himself spending way longer than he had initially thought.

And that was just in the romance section alone. That’s how Jason knew this bookstore was unlike all the rest in Gotham.

‘But as to answer your question, I come here on the off chance when I’m looking for a new book to read, seeing as I have read and re-read the books in my personal possession multiple times over.’ Jason admitted and feeling a little bashful but reading had proven to be a form of escapism for him- especially after everything he has been through recently- he felt as though this escape from reality was severely overdue.

‘You’ve got your own collection of books? Am I allowed to assume that they’re mainly Jane Austen’s body of work or?’ You trailed off, feeling yourself growing more confident with talking to Jason as though it was as easy as breathing. Finally you had someone to indulge in this sort of conversation with without it feeling forced and fall to the wayside, leaving you both to soak in the awkward and stifling aftermath.

Jason smiled genuinely as he bowed his head and raised his hands. ‘You got me down to a science…’ he trailed off once realising that he didn’t know your name and cursed himself for his lack of even the basic of etiquette.

‘Y/n.’ You told him with a smile.

‘Y/n.’ He tested out your name, letting it linger for a little bit and quickly came to the conclusion that he liked it. He liked it a lot. And you liked it also, especially when he was the one saying it the way he did just now.

‘Well it’s nice to meet you y/n. My names Jason.’ Jason then said and he knew that he’d come to like the way you said his name as though it were a mythical word;

‘Jason.’ You uttered, saying every word with care and respect that it left a weird feeling within Jason’s chest that only seems to grow and spread throughout his body the more you talked.

You two would talk for literal hours about your favourite book genres, characters and so on to the point that the owner of the bookstore would have to remove you both from the premises himself. He’d then proceed to go on about how you both were just taking the piss at this point and muttering about having to stay an while longer to properly close up shop, count the cash float, and so on before then making the journey home.

He honestly didn’t care about the books in Jason’s hand, just lets him have them for free on the pretence that both he and you get the fuck out before shutting and locking the door behind you both.

‘Well…’ Jason trailed off, tucking the books under his arm. ‘Will I see you again? Preferably here?’ He asks and you smiled sheepishly.

‘Depends, will you?’ You countered and Jason could feel the smile on his lips grow at it’s own accord. ‘Yeah, I’m definitely coming back if I get free books for every time I stay until closing hours.’ He jokes and you lightly smack his bicep, keeping your hand there for an unreasonably long time but it’s not like either you or Jason cared in that moment.

‘Then I guess I’m obligated to come back here to help you piss off the bookstore owner.’ You replied with a smile of your own as you both kept looking into the other’s eyes. You both knew something had blossomed here today at this run down bookstore, and you both hoped that it could continue like that for a long while, but neither of you were willing to admit your embarrassingly rapidly growing attraction to one another. That could wait for another time.

‘Great.’ Jason said.

‘Great.’ You echoed. ‘See you soon I guess.’

‘Soon can’t come fast enough.’ Jason replied ask you both went your separate ways with eager anticipation of your next interaction.

[jolapeno]

8. dark olive

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eight of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. frankie has a little panic attack as he shares canon things. an: this one would be called the revelation.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Rounding the corner, hands pushing the cart, you spot him immediately. Hands busy, comparing two types of tape in the middle of the aisle he’d left your side for.

Fuck, the tape looks so small in his hands.

A thought you're quick to shake out, eyes glazing past items on the shelves as you wander to him.

This store is so different from the one you met him in—the one he works in. Even if the circumstances feel oddly similar. Him, down an aisle; you, hopelessly and completely out of your comfort zone, still struggling to understand what it is you're here for.

It also smells different here. The place is a lot brighter, the lights above gleaming—newer, more LED than bulb—and the floor has little to no stains. You’d also noticed that the paint tins live across several aisles, with more colours than you thought possible.

Mostly, you miss Harold.

Oddly, for saying you’d rarely been there, you feel like you’re cheating on him. Almost betraying Harold's Hardware by being inside this larger, more fancier store.

A thing which tugs at the corner of your lips when you come to a stop near him. Finding Frankie turning his chin, wearing a puzzled look across his ridiculously handsome face. One that almost makes you break out into a smile, instead choosing to drag your tongue across your bottom lip as you inhale—trying not to let your eyes drop from his loose curls to his dark jeans.

“Do you feel like you’re cheating?” you ask, voice dropping as you come to a stop next to him, watching as he simultaneously places one tape back and one in the cart as he moves around to where your forearms are resting. “Because we’re shopping in a store that isn’t yours.”

Sliding his fingers under your chin as you straighten, making it easier to slide his mouth over yours.

Smirking, you bite your lip. “I feel like he’s going to know—Harold. He’ll smell it on you.”

“He’s not a vampire.”

“Could be. Instead of blood, it’s wood chippings and—”

Fingers crawling up your cheek, you catch the whisper of shh before he kisses you.

An attempt made to steal your breath, a thing you allow him to take willingly, practically handing him all you have in your lungs as your smirk and thoughts fade. At the feel of his hand sliding around you, you melt. Hands sliding from the cart to his face, feeling the fuzz of his hair against your palm, the smile that adorns his face against your mouth as you do all you can to hold back a moan in the middle of a tool and supplies aisle.

“Morales,” you warn as your mouth parts from his, catching the sound of him groaning—even from the back of his throat.

Tongue peeking through his teeth he snorts. “Morales? Ay?”

“Butterscotch in the sheets, Morales in the streets.”

Even if he shakes his head, you spot how soft his eyes are—all adorned with mischief, love. A sight you can't get over as it does a good job of making your heart flutter, especially as he continues to stroke your cheek—his calloused thumb dragging back and forth in gentle movements.

One he woke you up with the other day; one he does when he can tell your heart is racing quicker than your worries.

Fuck, you like him.

A lot.

His thumb still drags along your cheek as you think as much, as he sighs—all faint, with ease. As though he’s thinking something similar. Or maybe, you're just hoping.

“I think it's our little secret,” he murmurs.

His hand slides down, brushes down your body before he reaches for another item on the shelf. Not even looking—just knowing.

And, for the third time since being in here, it makes you warm. Makes you hot. It makes you want to drag him back to his truck and ask him to park it somewhere out of sight.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you smile, hands finding the cart again. “I just…”

“You just?”

Running your tongue over your teeth, you lift your chin. “I don’t know how you just… do things, sometimes. You’re so—”

“Handsome?”

“—Competent.”

Narrowing his eyes, he tries not to smirk. You can tell. Giving you that look—the one he gave you in your kitchen, in the aftermath of when he almost choked on his juice, when you said you had breakfast he could eat. Meaning eggs. Even if the two of you burnt them doing something far more fun.

“Do you like that, Rainy?” You try not to warm at the pet name, at the nickname that’s grown to have more meaning than your own. “That I’m competent?”

Grabbing the cart, you nudge it into him. “Stop.”

Smirking, he winks, adding a noted before he begins leading you. The two of you weave through the aisles, mundane items ending up in the cart—the mess of things all rolling around the metal frame. On occasion, he mumbles something before scratching his forehead with the back of his hand, while you hover, not at all sure if he's naming a product or just making up words.

And, you just admire.

Completely in awe as he calculates something and then looks at you—like you’re the answer. Or because he knows now that it somehow turns you on.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?”

Rolling your lips, you shake your head, watching him add more things to buy.

“Twice, actually.”

Pulling a face, and moving closer, he hooks a finger around the loop of your jeans. “Doesn’t feel enough.”

“No?”

Shaking his head, you stare at him—right into his eyes, falling into them. “We should go pay.”

He smiles at you, the corners of his lips curling into something more as he nods his head and leads you to pay—joining an empty checkout.

"Same time next week?" he asks.

“Are you making these hardware dates with me a regular thing?”

“Why not? Maybe we can visit them all—I know some guys take girls to new cities or towns, but I wanna show you all the hardware stores.”

Laughing, you watch him empty everything, shooting you a grin each time he grabs something else from the cart until it empties.

Then, you bite the inside of your cheek when he goes to grab his wallet, fumbling for it. Your eyes spot it, that line—the one you love to smooth out with your palm—and how it begins to deepen. Moving from your place as you slide your phone out, ass brushing against him as you mumble that you’ll get this one.

It’s only when you hear the distinct beep of the payment, that you look over your shoulder. “You didn’t lose it,” you announce, watching him pause, face smoothing out. “Your wallet.”

Hands pause on the back of his jeans, he stops.

“It’s here,” you continue, patting the pocket of your jacket, “But, I’ll let you buy me lunch if you want?”

The cashier chuckles, hearing it, distantly, something about your girlfriend is funny—even if you’re focused on him, on how his eyes soften and his lips have curled into a grin.

We should think about constructing your shelving soon.

Good afternoon to you too, baby. That sounds fun. How do we do that?

Hello baby. I’m thinking, as it’s entirely bespoke that we get some drawers from IKEA, but the shelves above we make ourselves.

Does this mean you’re going to show me how to use power tools?

Yeah, sure. Probably be safer at mine, then I can transport them over to yours when we’re done?

Sounds good to me. So, an IKEA date?

Yeah. That can be next week's Hardware trip.

Oh, how you spoil me.

You know it, hermosa.

I still need to pick a paint, right?

Yes, you thought about any of the swatches you’ve done?

Frankie answers in record speed, your back leaning against the wall—staring at the now smooth wall the two of you had gotten pristine.

“Thought this would be easier.”

“Admit you missed my voice.”

Fighting a groan at the sound of the way he lowered his voice, you flex your toes in your socks. “You’re getting awfully big-headed, Butterscotch.”

Snorting, you hear a crash from his end of the phone, and the distinct sound of the phone being brought away before he shouts to Luca.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s building the equivalent of Jurassic World in my living room.”

Smirking, you lick your lips. “You sound thrilled.”

“Tim and Vinnie needed a home. And, it’s cruel of Daddy to make them homeless—”

Nodding, you glance at the swatches as you listen. Eyes flicking over taupes and golden yellows, over soft pinks and sea blues, but you keep being drawn back to one shade each time.

One that makes you linger, before gazing away from it—hesitant, somehow. The reasoning is half-known, yet you don’t want to unfold or unravel it properly.

Because you know why you like it—why you’re drawn to it.

Why it makes you want to smile, why it makes you feel at ease and calm, safe—

“—Is that your friend, Daddy?”

“Luca—”

“Hello, Daddy’s friend!”

His voice, all little and high-pitched—almost out of breath, as you imagine him running—makes your heart flicker, managing to croak back a, “Hi there.”

“My name is Luca and I’m—Daddy no—”

Your hand comes up to your mouth, grinning behind your fingers as you hear giggles and little screams. Frankie’s voice jokingly calls out that he’s a little monster—the phone clanging and clattering before the most joyous sound of two laughs blending into one before you’re picked up from whatever place you’d fallen to.

“I’m back.”

“Hi, baby.”

Sighing, he apologises, “Where were we?”

“Olive green. I like olive green.”

He makes a noise, one that you can’t help but think he’s surprised by.

“What—green is growing on me,” you add.

And he makes a different noise, one you suspect is married to a smile—a grin. One you’re pretty sure you’re mirroring neighbourhoods away, as you hear Luca in the background cheer at the sound of another crash.

So, I know you mentioned us going out for dinner tonight, but I wondered if I could interest you in something else.

I’m intrigued.

Well, you said you were still sore from training yesterday with Ben and I know you’ve been doing extra at the store, so how about UNO and pizza?

Baby, I promised you I’d take you out.

And you are. From my kitchen counter to my living room.

Is this what you really want?

Yes. Please.

I'm starting to think you don't like going out.

Why would I want to share you with more eyes, Morales?

Let me bring pizza then.

I guess I can agree to that.

Throwing down the last card, cheering, you watch him scowl—the few UNO cards he had left thrown down onto the table as you grab another slice of pizza. Wearing your win on your face, letting it descend like mist to your shoulders, hips as you do a little wiggle—all cross-legged on your living room floor.

He, on the other hand, huffed in faux annoyance, a glint in his eyes—the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Best out of three?” he proposes, already reaching forward and shuffling the deck with a smirk.

“You know you’ve lost two already.”

“Best out of seven then.”

And so, the game continues. Frankie on your sofa, leaning forward over the coffee table—surrounded by the remnants of pizza and scattered UNO cards. The glow from your lamp cascaded over the room, his curls teased and pulled on as he lost another game.

“Alright, cheat. Last round,” he declares.

As the game unfolds, you can't help but feel so incredibly happy. Just being here, with him. It's a simple night, nothing fancy, yet it feels more special than any other night with any other people.

You don’t even mind that he wins the last round, rolling your eyes at the triumphant grin on his face. “Told you I could beat you,” he gloats, gathering up the cards.

You roll your eyes, but there's a smile on your face. "Alright, alright, don't let it get to your head," you tease, unfolding your legs as you stand, grabbing the plates and napkins.

After everything is tidied up, you both settle down on the couch, snuggling into each other. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close to his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh.

“Thank you for tonight,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You look up at him, a soft smile on your face. “I had a great time.”

“Because you won?”

“Because I won.”

He swallows, shaking his head lightly as he stares at you—as you purse your lips and think about throwing your legs up over his. Heart doing a steady skip, the longer you stare, mouth opening to ask if he wants to stay when his opens and beats you to it.

“I want you to meet Luca.”

Face softening, your eyes widen to match the smile spreading over your face. “Yeah? You do?”

Nodding, he runs his knuckles over your chin. “I talked to Sam—Samantha. ‘Cause I wanted to make sure she was okay with it, y’know?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want to do it without her being okay with it.”

Smiling, his hand drops to your knee, drawing a square. “You’re also… the first person,” he adds, nose scrunching as the words wash over you.

“Oh. Well, Frankie, I’d love to meet him. When you’re ready.”

His eyes drop, and you feel it—the air shift, something changing—before he clears his throat again. Retracing his hand, the heel of his palm runs across his forehead, and your heart’s pattern changes, and alters.

A dread falls out, sliding down over your skin, cooling the warmth that had been steadily growing all evening.

“But,” he swallows, fingers brushing over your knee. “I need to tell you something first.”

It’s quiet, the okay that escapes. That slithers out and spreads its fingers towards him. A panic rising in you, twisting—knotting. It makes you want to clear your throat, swallow, and do all you can to make it shift, but you can feel it pulsing, waiting.

Swallowing again, you spot Frankie’s hands twitching nervously. "Remember I told you about when I helped a friend—the dangerous thing?”

Eyes flicking, watching his hand lock over the other—fingers moving back and forth, scratching, eyes on you like a hawk as you nod, bracing yourself.

“Well…”

And it falls out of him. Listening, even over your racing heart—taking it in, as much as you can, more than bits and pieces, but not confident the full thing is reaching your brain.

You match the names of his friends to the ones you met, two shadows forming in the picture he paints—briefly wondering if they were in the photo at his, if they were people you’d heard about before, and never known. Hearing names like Ironhead and Pope, not realising until a second later explanation of who they were.

The more he spills, the more panicked his voice becomes—the more breath he attempts to take in. As though it's been shoved somewhere inside of him, crammed in a space too large, it bursting out of him now. All visibly affecting him, making his hand continue to scratch, nails digging deeper into the other. Red lines appear, clawing into the back of his hand as he continues on, and on—

“Frankie, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I do, baby. I do because—” he chokes, a sob there—likely bubbling and unwilling to burst in his throat, eyes shimmering, swimming in unspent tears, “—I made a rushed call, and… and my friend—“

“Frankie.”

“He died.”

It feels like you’ve been hit in the chest.

A hand reaching in, twisting in past your ribs. A tightness that had been turning and shifting, suddenly explodes, leaving you breathless. Your mouth falls open, thoughts empty as you simply stare, blinking.

Not because of what he said, but because you knew it before he said it. Before he confesses the next thought, which you had a feeling had been eating him alive since he first began—

“And it was my fault.”

Your heart breaks, shatters for him.

Worsened by the way his words catch on his teeth as he shakes his head, as a tear falls down his cheek—as his nails continue to scratch, and scratch, more words tumbling out from his tongue.

The weight of his confession presses down on you, a suffocating force that threatens to crush your spirit. The air is heavy in the room, charged with sorrow and regret, his eyes encased in torment as his skin begins to peel apart—a raw wound laid bare, both metaphorically and literally.

“—and if I hadn’t crash landed, if I hadn’t taken the shot, if I hadn’t—“

If I hadn’t. If I hadn’t.

If I hadn’t.

The words are balled up, dropping out—followed by other things. Failings, all of them. Ones that have rippled inside of him for longer than you care to think about; them all likely rotted, become a mass of heavy regrets that have clung to the inside of his chest.

You whisper his name, but it’s like calling out a person in the centre of a stadium full of noise.

It’s swallowed, smothered. Barely reached his ears as you want to reach out and touch him, to centre him, bring him back to you. In all the ways he does so with you.

“—It's why I couldn’t fly, why I took the job, why… she left me.” His eyes snap to you, all clear, focused—unlike they’d been a moment ago. “You deserve to know—to choose, to know who you're with. ‘cause I fuck up. I fucked up and I took a man from his kids. I lost my head, I just needed to get out and I—”

Eyes flicking to his hand, you stand up, all suddenly, forcing his voice to trail off as he stares up at you. The room falls quiet as big, brown weeping eyes watch you shift your weight from side to side.

He looks lost, floating in a sea of pain that’s drowning him, that he can’t kick up from as he tries to keep swimming.

And he says your name. All broken, the edges of it chipped—cracked and fractured.

It’s quick, the way you mumble one minute before moving into your kitchen. The way you scramble for the green box, knocking over bottles of cleaning products and bleach as you hear him crumble, as the sound worms in your chest and cracks you. Hearing it, the distinct sound of shit and the way he curses himself for fucking up.

You barely shut the cupboard behind you when you’re moving back to him, seeing him panicked, gasping for breath between sobs. Sorries echoing, vibrating out. They're all a mashing of words and syllables, yet you can discern every single one as you drop back beside him.

Watching him try to shift away, your hand grabs his—quicker, smothering out over the one that sits on top of the one he’s scratched.

“Breathe. In, and out.”

Your name slithers out, between gasps and shakes.

“In for four, that’s it—then we hold for seven, like me—and exhale. Good. Again.”

Watching him come down, settle—ease falling out over him as you hold his hand, grip it, hold him so tight so he knows you’re not going anywhere.

“You don’t have to—”

“I just needed to get this,” you soothe, grabbing the first aid kit, placing it between the two of you. “You… you’ve cut yourself, baby.”

Swallowing, he blinks—either at the name, or the softness of your tone—before he glances down.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” you say, a double meaning.

Opening the kit, pulling out antiseptic and bandages, feeling him watch you as you gently clean his wounds, his breath hitching when the antiseptic stings, but he doesn't pull away. Not even when you ask if he's talked to someone, or when he nods, when he explains that he had to, that he hadn't been able to sleep and he was worried about having a baby overnight.

Frankie doesn't move even after you’ve cleaned it, or when you softly bandage it. Your fingers move with precision, all the while careful not to press too hard.

When you're done, you let your hand linger on his, your thumb gently rubbing over the bandages. You meet his gaze, seeing nothing but pain—wishing you could light a flicker of hope, do something to ease it.

“I need you to hear me say something, Frankie. Can you do that or would you prefer I wait?" you ask, voice steady, even though your heart pounds in your chest.

Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting.

Swallowing, he averts his eyes. “Yeah. I can hear it."

Your heart falls in your chest. “Frankie, I'm not ending it." You reassure, thankful his head shifts to face you. “Baby, whatever happened, it happened. It doesn't—it doesn’t change things for me. Doesn’t change the person I know. I know it’s a part of your story, a thing I can never heal for you, and I know there's likely more there, but you don't need to tell me. I don't need to know the whole thing.”

His eyes don't leave yours, and you see them fill with tears again. But this time, there's relief in them, too. Your hand lightly brushes over the bandage.

“Because what I do know is how much I like getting to know you. I know how Ben talked about you—how good Will said you were, are. I know what person I’ve been seeing, so, I don’t feel any different, about you—about us. Okay?”

Nodding, chewing his tongue for a moment, he slowly pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your neck. And, you hold him just as tight—hand stroking his back, feeling his tears on your skin. How his breathing steadies, and becomes more regular.

Only when he loosens his grip do you pull away slightly. Seeing enough to catch his face, how he's looking at you with such raw gratitude and vulnerability that it makes your chest ache. Pressing your forehead to his, closing your eyes as you take it in, you lay a soft kiss on his mouth, taking a moment, letting it all settle.

And then you clear your throat. “But, you are really bad at UNO.”

He snorts, eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Like really bad—maybe the worst person I’ve ever played UNO with—”

Grabbing you, almost tickling you, he half-smiles, somehow having shifted himself to be above you, pressing you into your sofa cushions. “Yeah, alright”

Smiling up at him, you flick your eyes from his to his lips. “Do you want to stay and make me eggs in the morning?”

Rolling his lips, he takes a deep breath, before slowly nodding. "If that's okay?"

"I'd like you to."

Baby, you were fast asleep when I had to get up for work, so I made you a thank-you-for-listening-to-me-omelette. The recipe was complex, with lots of various thanks woven into it, so I hope you like it. I also spotted my brand of coffee in your cupboard, I’m trying to stop grinning at that, so I’ll try and call on my break if you want—so you can remind me how bad I am at UNO.

I just woke up, so I’m going to hunt down this omelette that definitely didn’t need to be made from thank-you-eggs.

Okay, first report, your omelette is almost as good as your coffee. Which yes, I bought.

Starting to think you really like me, Rainy.

I might do, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

AN: hope we're all doing okay

[nanaminokanojo]

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | part 30

-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur

CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters

GENRE: full-length smau + prose | bad boy x good girl | college au | a lot of firsts | aged-up characters | strangers to lovers | smut | fluff | angst | ooc depictions - soft sukuna ftw

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol and/or smoking | mentions of injury, promiscuity and bullying | pet names because they're cute with 2D men | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 30 next>>

A/N: Contains prose with panels in between. 6th panel is a video.

“I can do it, you know,” you insisted again

“Not having it. I should make sure you’re getting the best care.”

You arched a brow at him, sitting stiffly beside him, not really seeing how it was easier when he said, “Prop your legs up on my lap.”

“Huh?”

He didn’t explain any further and instead stood up, carrying you bridal style and propping you on the couch so your back was against the armrest while he gently placed your legs across his lap. “That wasn’t so hard, was it.”

“N-no, but –”

“No buts.”

As he moved around you, you couldn't help but stare at him. His usually intimidating demeanor softened as he meticulously put the ointment on the abrasions on your leg with a cotton swab. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers deft and precise, eyes intense as he focused on his task. The room was silent except for your steady breathing. At that moment, Sukuna's care and attention just took center stage.

“You do this often?” you teased. “With other girls, I mean.”

He shook his head. “Consider yourself special.”

“I’m only special ‘cause you nearly killed me.” You laughed at your own joke, not meaning anything by it, about to swing your legs off of him when he held onto them, his hand quickly but very gently settling on the shin of your right leg. “I…I’m sorry. That wasn’t a nice thing to say.”

Sukuna leaned towards you, placing his free hand on the backrest. You met his gaze, not liking the turmoil that seemed to swirl in his dark eyes which, you noticed, were flecked with dark garnets and amethysts with the way the sun was shining on him.

“I’ll never hurt you,” he told you softly. He closed his eyes in agitation before flashing you an apologetic smile. “Not intentionally, anyway.”

“Stop saying it that way.”

“Hmm. What way?”

“Like you’re considering the possibility that you would.” You mustered all the courage you had, reached out and cupped his face, making him look at you. “You’ve taken care of me better than anyone so far. I am grateful for that. Don’t ever forget it.”

He placed his hands over yours. “How are you this gracious? It’s unsettling.”

At that, you felt your heart stutter. It’s happening again. “Is that bad?”

Sukuna laughed. “How is that even bad? I swear to god, you worry about the weirdest things. It’s good. It’s just that…”

“Just what?” You withdrew your hands, looking away. That overwhelming feeling akin to being submerged in cold water made its way from your toes to your chest, making it hard to breathe. “People hate me, you know? They hate me because they think I’m just pretending. I acted out once because I was too tired to deal with anyone, and they all started leaving, telling me I’m a –”

He didn’t like what he was hearing. “That’s ridiculous.”

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself. “But I admire you, Sukuna. You show everyone the real you, and they like you for it.

Unlike me, you thought, concealing the thought with a smile, but that was short-lived when he said his next words.

“I like you.”

TAG LIST: @catobsessedlady @kyo-kyo1 @junehasnotbeenfound @lavender-hvze @guacam011y @eyered @hellomeow12 @its-princessmara @light-yagami-l @domainofmarie @mythoscalliope @noble-17 @pheonix-eclipses @weebbuscuit @sukunasbudussy @lu-c1na @vinnieswife @the-haitani-baton @iaminyourfloors @needtoloveoutloud @r-ryuko09 @somestardeww @swirlingcurses @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @bronze-metal @iluv-ace @kidd3ath

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240526]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[dissociation-station123]

Amongst Friends: Chapter Five

Smut ⚠️

Warning: This is all smut 🤷‍♀️

Gojo's POV

He takes in a bated breath at the erotic scene before him. Almost groaning out loud when Y/N calls out his name. Her hair sprawled out on the mattress, body perfectly arched with a euphoric look of pleasure present on her features. "What is going on?" Satoru's voice comes out in a low growl.

He watches as her far off state shifts to reality; just now understanding the circumstance she was in. He notices Suguru's grip tighten on her hips and she jolts up, moaning uncontrollably. Suguru looks almost feral as his tongue works to devour her needy pussy. "Fuck... please Suguru... I can't think..." She pleads with him but he ignores her cries.

Satoru swallows heavily as he watches her overcome with an orgasm. The way her legs shook and fingers dug into the bed trying to hold on to something. He felt his cock twitch painfully against his pants.

A small sense of guilt was nothing compared to the annoyance that they did not invite him to join. A wicked grin appears on his face as the dark eyes of his friend finally meet his own. "You fucking greedy bastard..." Satoru curses and Suguru simply shrugs.

Regular POV

Your mind and body are not listening as you try to recover from yet another orgasm. You glare down at Suguru who now wears a cocky smirk and licks his canines.

"Don't look at me like that..." he threatens and your body shivers. You attempt to sit up so you can address Satoru; to explain what the hell is happening. "Ah ah eyes on me..." He growls and his large hand wraps around your throat pulling you to him.

Suguru adds a bit of pressure, taking away oxygen for a few seconds before releasing. Your vision dots with black spots but your body vibrates to life. You cry out but are silenced by a fierce kiss, teeth nipping at your lower lip and tongue shoved down your throat. You ride the body high and give into him as one hand roams your hip and the other tugs your hair.

"Suguru..." You hear Satoru hiss, he was always a bit of a brat. But the tone he used in this moment to call out his friend's name was all aggression. He was no longer ok with being ignored.

Suguru pulls away and you whine. "Fuck that was cute..." His deep velvet voice whispers in your ear. "Satoru, you know I don't like sharing like you do...." You open your eyes and see his jaw clench.

You glance over at Satoru, those blue eyes lacked any playfulness. "This is a special occasion." He snaps back and you feel like prey caught between two predators who were starving.

You could feel a strange tension in the room. Both men stare each other down. It would be a ridiculous scene to witness; you and Suguru naked in bed while Satoru stands fully dressed.

"This is fucking ridiculous!" You suddenly speak up and both men snap out of it. "What the hell am I doing?" You run your hand down your face contemplating your choices.

"Fine Satoru just this once..." Suguru speaks up suddenly and you are pulled backwards into Satoru's chest. When you look up at him his eyes are low lidded and the smirk is devilish.

"Can I get a kiss too?" Satoru's expression changes to a pout, skillfully crafted to convey innocence and mask his devious thoughts. "Please..." He almost whimpers, your body reacts.

"I..." You try your hardest to form a sentence but the heat in your cheeks was distracting. Satoru turns your body to face him and kneels in front of you. His hand on your thigh and the other cupping your face, the coolness calming.

"You know me Y/N..." The bit of regular charm and cheerful personality cracks through. You find yourself slightly smiling. "It gets annoying to deal with me when someone gets something I want."

His thumb slides across your lower lip and he squeezes your leg. "Just this once..." He whispers his face inches from your own, his voice needy.

"Pfft..." His eyebrows knit together in confusion when you laugh. "Is that the equivalent to just the tip Satoru Gojo?" You respond sarcastically. His expression softens as you see him trying not to giggle himself as he shrugs.

You gulp and tense your jaw when his fingers tangle your hair pulling your face up. His breath ghosts over your neck. "Lovely, it would be much more than that..." His thumb caresses circles onto your inner thigh and you almost purr, you bite your inner cheek to maintain some form of sanity. "You're so fucking wet... Dripping down your thigh..."

You watch as he leans back a bit, making intense eye contact as he lifts his finger to his mouth and sucks them clean. "Ok..." you groan, rubbing your legs together at the visage in front of you.

"What was that?" Satoru tilts his head in mock confusion. "Speak up sweetheart. My beautiful Y/N." He cups your face and studies you. Fucking shit fuck...

"Kiss me Satoru!" You growl pulling him by the collar of his shirt and he grins as your lips meet. You yank him on top of you and he takes hold of your arms pushing them above your head.

"Slow down there..." Satoru scolds you and you roll your eyes. You wrap your legs around him, wanting to feel his body against yours. "Hah... so impatient..." Satoru takes both your wrists in one hand, tightening his grip. Gently lifts your chin, he was so pretty hovering above you in such a dirty way.

He kisses you again this time forcing it to be slow and sensual. Your heart races as his tongue softly dances with your own. Calculated strokes that ignited your core. When he pulls away again you miss the sensation. "That wasn't so bad. Right?" You nod arching against him.

"Fuck Satoru..." a deep voice interrupts your intimate moment. "You need to mmm share." You tilt your head back and see Suguru sitting against the wall leaning back, slowly stroking himself. Those dark eyes focused on every inch of skin.

Satoru sighs in a spoiled way, let's go and stands up. You watch as he removes his shirt and walks towards your dresser. "Top drawer?" He asks so casually. "Condoms?" You finally register and nod.

"Y/N come here..." Suguru beckons you and you manage to crawl over to him. Must have been too slow for his liking because he practically lifts you up pulling you closer. His teeth dig into your neck and you cry out. His tongue eases the sharp pain and it felt so good.

"Here greedy fucker..." Satoru throws a rubber at Suguru, as he begins unbuckling his belt. "I want this so bad... What is wrong with me?" Satoru mutters to himself, running his hand through his hair. A small amount of anxiety on his features.

"Put it on for me..." Suguru growls into your ear, no hesitation and those dark eyes burning with a carnal impulse. There was no regret or faltering in his expression. You take the foil wrapper from his hand and tear it open with your teeth. "So sexy..."

You take hold of his cock and he makes a pleased sound as you slowly stroke it. You watch as his abs contract. You roll on protection and his hands take hold of your hips. Without warning he turns you around as you straddle above him. "Final chance to stop..." He manages to say through gritted teeth.

"Fuck me Suguru..." You moan and he pushes you down onto his dick. Your head falls back at the sharp pain yet the pleasure of being completely filled by him.

He does not move holding you still warming his cock. You try to grind against him but he clicks his teeth. His large arms wrap around you and pull you against his chest, his fingers rolling along your nipples. "Rub your clit for me..."

Shakily as he relentlessly pinches and caresses your breast you move your hand to play with yourself. "Hah... please let me move..." You beg craving the friction.

Your eyes closed, you enjoy the multiple sensory pleasures. Suguru continues to knead your sensitive buds as he kisses your spine and shoulders. You gasp when another set of lips nibble at your neck. "I thought you were cute but damn..." Satoru whispers as you open your eyes to see him now naked kneeling in front of you.

"Ahhh fuck..." You cry out when Satoru replaces your own fingers with his, the lewd sound of your wetness as he expertly circles your clit. "Satoru..." you call out his name holding onto his shoulders for an anchor.

The moment you moan his name his eyes widen. He increases his pace and you fight to ride Suguru who has you still firmly in place. Your body slumps desperately. "You're so mean, Suguru..." Satoru laughs at your struggle. "Stop teasing her."

"Y/N how badly do you want me to fuck you?" Suguru asks, he sounded just as needy as you did. He has much better control as he holds you tighter. Your mind was a mess. You were going off instinct, the urge to continue feeling this good made you lose yourself completely. The promise of feeling even better.

"Fuck Suguru..." You curse at him, your nails digging into Satoru's shoulder. Satoru had told Suguru he was mean but the way his finger explored the front of your pussy was almost torture. Satoru spreads his fingers around your soaking lips where Suguru's cock was buried deep. "I need you to fuck me... Suguru, I need it so bad..."

Suguru grunts then slowly lifts your body up against his shaft, the pressure of Saturu's fingers cupping your hole and the sensation of sliding along Suguru's cock makes your body shiver. "You feel so damn good..." Suguru moans as you begin riding him. You barely heard his words, too busy buzzing with your own euphoria to care. Your vision flashes white as you already feel yourself ready to cum all over him.

Just as you pussy begins to twitch, Suguru yanks you off and you whimper. "Mmmm no please..." Your lips clench around empty air and you feel like throwing a small tantrum.

"You're being selfish." Suguru says while guiding your body into an arch and kneeling behind you. "Look at poor Satoru." Through bleary vision you look up and see a pained expression on Satoru's face as he strokes himself. You open your mouth and Satoru swallows heavily. You stick out your tongue and he gladly obliges. Your tongue twirls around the tip of his swollen cock, the bitter taste of precum fills you mouth.

Satoru groans deeply; you could feel the rumble from his chest. "Look at you...." You suck at the tip enjoying his eyes roll back. "I know I... Fuck... call you a nerd... but god damn it you can suck a dick..." Right as you take him into your throat and swallow, Suguru shoves himself back in. You moan and Satoru's body shakes from the vibrations. His hands tangle in your hair. Both men begin to thrust against you. You were a mindless drooling mess beneath them. You could no longer speak just grunts and cries.

The moment Suguru pulls your ass cheeks a part to push in even deeper you lose it. Your body shakes uncontrollable and your cunt clenches and unclenches. "That's it cum on my cock.... FUCK.... Fuck... fuck..."

Suguru and Satoru let out a stream of curses. You feel Satoru's dick twitch in your mouth and then his hot seed slides down your throat. He leans down a panting mess. Then pulls your neck back kissing you roughly.

A sharp slap to your ass causes you to jolt and moan into Satoru's lips. Suguru continues to slam into you. You arch even further, your toes curling.

Satoru stops the kiss, forcing you to look back at Suguru. Those dark eyes were low lidded and mindless. "Look what you have done to our precious Suguru." Satoru whispers, his cheeks flushed. "You're so good..."

"Y/N how does it feel..." Suguru grips your hips again and you arch even lower. "Fucking both of us... such a slut..." Then he flips you on your back pushing your legs up nearly to your head.

"Ahhh...." You scream out the new angle allowing him to get unbelievably deeper. "Feels good..." You whine and he curses again. His thrust is rough as he drills you into the bed. His hand pushes on your stomach.

"I can feel my cock..." He smirks and licks his canine, sweat dripping from his forehead. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else." He says confidently and you could not argue. You could only moan in response. Your vision clouded and thoughts fuzzy.

Satoru kisses your forehead then lowers himself to suck on your tit. "Too much..." You mewl but he holds down your arms, his tongue tracing your nipple.

"Awww you're so tough..." Suguru says, "you can handle it." He slams down and you see stars. Your body jerked on its own, legs quaking.

"Satoru shit..." He calls out to his friend, Satoru nods, they speak without saying a word. They had known each other since childhood so it was understandable. In the moment you wanted to know what they were both thinking. You were unable to form any syllables as Satoru again starts playing with your clit.

"Gah...." Another orgasm crashes down and this time Suguru moans. His pace became as erratic as his breathing. His cock pulsates inside you.

"Y/N fuck..." Suguru whines as you see his muscles tighten. You feel him finally release his load. His movements still as he tries to breathe. Satoru leans back with a smile. Suguru lowers your legs and this time his kiss is gentle. Soft pecks along the side of your lips and along your face. When those eyes meet yours there is a mixture of emotion. "You ok pretty?"

"So good..." You say softly and the worry you saw fades a bit. Suguru smiles down at you. Satoru whines and you both look over.

"I want a turn..." Satoru mutters his cock already hard again. He is such a brat. Suguru glares at his friend and sighs. You laugh almost drunkenly.

"Y/N..." Suguru calls out to you and you look at him. His finger runs along your cheek. "He doesn't always have to get his way." You reach up and take a piece of his long hair in your fingers twirling it.

"It's fine. I'm tough." You say smirking up at him. Suguru's usual stoic demeanor falls for a second, you see something vulnerable in his eyes. "Are you okay?" You ask him and he shakes his head.

"Yeah no I'm fine." He mumbles and you yelp when you feel Satoru grab your legs pulling you to the edge where he was standing.

"I'll be gentle. I can control myself unlike some people." Satoru takes a dig at Suguru who shrugs. Satoru kneels between your legs. "Still dripping... but you look so tasty."

You hate how your body instantly craves his tongue. You thank him when he begins sucking your juices. "So well mannered." Satoru whispers then plunges his tongue as far as he could inside of you. Your thighs close around his head and you ride his tongue.

"God damn it..." You hear Suguru curse climbing back onto the bed. He pinches your cheeks forcing your mouth open. "Don't swallow..." he warns as he spits into your mouth then straddles the front of your body. Roughly he opens your mouth wider and shoves his cock into your mouth.

Satoru shows you just how good he is with his mouth. You don't care that you can barely breath when Suguru begins thrusting.

You think to yourself you can't possible cum anymore, until a strange feeling overcomes you. You have never felt this way. It was almost too intense. You spread your legs and can hear Satoru moaning as he eats you out. You scream against Suguru's shaft as you feel your pussy squirt against Satoru's face. "Ooo you dirty girl..."

You feel tears fall down your cheek. "Satoru, you made her cry..." Suguru groans, "So breathtaking..." His cock spits cum down your throat and his entire body shakes. He stumbles back and lays down. "Shit..."

Satoru stands up smiling madly as he wipes his face off with his shirt. "I've never... Satoru... I'm sorry..." you cover your face a bit embarrassed.

"Sweetheart, that was the ultimate compliment." Satoru comforts you. You smile and then whine as he slides his cock against your lips. He lets out a shaky breath. "I've been beyond patient."

You always joked about how lanky Satoru Gojo was. He would always pout and be combative. But when this man picks you up as if you weigh nothing, slams his cock into you and pushes you against the wall you knew you could no longer say that. Your eyes wide in shock as he wore a cocky grin. "My turn..."

[adventuringblind]

Drive with you Forever

Chapter Twelve: New Beginnings

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri (I added a fifth because why the hell not)

Chapter summary: reader is clueless, Oscar recounts his time with alpine, Daniel is still a menace, someone is kidnapped… again

Warnings: talks of abuse, toxic workplace, blood, gore, kidnapping, drugging, sexual innuendo, no actual depiction of smut but it’s talked about and alluded to what their doing, dom/sub themes for a second, passing out, panic attacks, alcohol consumption

Notes: this is a long chapter and I did not intend for it to get as dark as it did but like… I swear it just happens. Also I apologize to the Alpine fans I needed them to be the bad guy.

Previous <-

Masterlist

Life is filled with highs and lows. Vast new experiences to explore with those you love.

Something she never thought was an option for Seb came and rescued her when she was fifteen. Now it’s something she experiences almost daily.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Their group chat had been going nonstop for the last hour. Everyone stuck waiting for interviews and other media duties.

Except for her. She was lucky enough to be curled of in a chair with a tablet, data rolling across her screen.

Lan: *image*

Lan: I made Oscar blush again

Maxy: you’re going to kill him if you keep going like this

Charlie: what did you do this time?

Lan: this time was an accident! All I did was bring up y/n!

Y/N: me? Why would I make him blush.

Charlie: sometimes I know I’m oblivious, but this is ridiculous

Lan: the poor kid is crushing HARD

Y/N: he’s so sweet

Y/N: he brought me water while we were in Miami with a cute note attached

Y/N: you three should take notes

Maxy: do you need a reminder of why you love us so much?

Y/N: previous statement redacted

Lan: no! Don’t redact! It could’ve been fun!

Charlie: you’re just tired of being the only one who gets in trouble

Lan: am not!

Lando looks at the Australian next to him. “Looks like we’re going to have to try something else.”

“Listen, I appreciate the effort, but have you considered your girlfriend doesn’t like me back?” Oscar grimaces at his own sentence. The concept not new. He’s been around long enough to understand. But it sounds weird coming out of his mouth.

“Well she almost got herself in trouble talking about you. I’d take that as a sign.”

“What about the other two?”

“Listen mate, they know I like you- well y/n does because I tell her more then everyone else. And this whole thing wasn’t simple at the start.”

“What do you mean?”

Lando thinks back on the memories of the interesting dynamic they had at first. “Apparently when two became three, it took ages for Charles to figure things out. He wasn’t sure how to act around Max. So they determined maybe he’d just do more with y/n. An agreement they were all comfortable with. Until the first time they did the devils tango.” Lando wiggles his eyebrows and the Australian flushes again.

“What about you then? Was it easy for you?”

“Absolutely not.” Lando laughs about it now but at the time he was stressed. “I lived with them during Covid. I had fallen head over heals for y/n, but I thought since I wasn’t there yet with the other two that it wouldn’t work.”

“Obviously you were wrong.”

“It took time but I figured it out. Them also. It’s not like this happened overnight.”

Lando looks at the boy next to him. He’d admittedly been crushing on him since the start of the year. His calm demeanor a stark contrast to his own. It was… refreshing, in a way.

Oscar also liked him, which helped, and the female he was currently trying to win over also does. The hard part is she hasn’t figured it out, and the red and blue guard dogs were hesitant to let him get close. Which sucks in its own way because who the hell wouldn’t be crushing on Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

~

The McLaren garage is one of her favorite places to be. They always had the best snacks here. She often found herself sneaking into Lando's room just to raid his stash.

She opens the door to his room and is met with Lando standing above Charles and Max.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No, I'm attempting to explain my predicament."

She looks between the three. The Monegasque and Dutch just look completely unfazed.

"Is this a hard on type of predicament? Or an Oscar predicament?"

"You knew?" Max and Charles both yell at the same time.

"Did you forget I can see the future? I just wanted to see how long it would take without me."

"Lando, we're glad you found someone, but we hardly know the guy."

It's not that they don't like him, but after everything they've been together, it can be hard to trust new people. Especially when their female partner is straight from a movie.

"Can we invite him over then? For dinner or something?"

Max and Charles relent. The Brit smiling like an idiot when they say yes.

~

Oscar knocks on the door to the hotel room. Nervous is not how he would describe his feelings. More like petrified.

Lando is the one who greets him. His signature goofy smile on his face. He basically bounds in to the room, excited to welcome Oscar into their home away from home.

The female is nowhere in sight, and Max and Charles are sitting at opposite ends of the small table with their arms crossed.

"Don't let them intimidate they're just a but... protective." Lando seems to shrug them off like no big deal, but Oscar is shaking out of his clothes (figuratively).

"Lan, last time we invited someone in it didn't end well." Reminds Max in a tone that makes Lando almost halt to attention. Which is weird because as far as Oscar knows, the Brit listens to no one.

"That was different."

Charles is shaking his head in disbelief. Whatever happened last time must have been bad. He definitely dosen't want to make them uncomfortable with this. "I can go if this is uncomfortable. I promise I'm not meaning to start drama or anything." Oscar manages to slip the words past his lips, but the unease doesn't go unnoticed.

"It's not that. I'd just rather bit see Lan have a breakdown and y/n unconscious like that again." Explains Max.

Okay, so whatever happened was bad. Oscar now has no idea what to do and had thrown every plan he had out the window.

Thankfully, he's saved by the bell as the fourth part of the quartet comes through the door. "Sorry, I ran into Seb, and he said his coffee pot in his room isn't working, so I offered to go fox it, and -" She abruptly stops her rant and stares at Oscar for a second. "Hello, Oscar." She greets warmly.

The takeout boxes she'd been holding now neatly set along the table. Lando now moving to sit at the table and gesturing for Oscar to sit with them. He does so hesitantly. Taking a spot between the female and the Brit.

"Are you going over tonight?"

"If I have time, yes, or I'll just go early in the morning."

"Seb seems more like a tea guy. Are we sure that he's not been possessed?"

"As his child, I can assure you he drinks coffee more then you might think."

Oscar listens to how the conversa flows so easily between them. He feels awkward and out of place. They fit so well together. Even if they let him in, how's he going to fit? What if he ruins it?

It takes him a minute to realize they are all looking at him. Lando is attempting to get his attention. "Hello? Earth to Oscar?"

"Sorry, I zoned out for a minute."

"Oh, I just asked how you're feeling with McLaren after the whole alpine mess. We don't have to talk about it, though." The female smiles warmly at him again. Maybe she pulled them all in with that smile because he's certainly struggling to not let it consume his thoughts.

"No, it's fine. Like I said, my head just spaced. I definitely like McLaren better if I'm being honest."

"Bet it's because of your amazing teamate." Lando send him a suggestive wink.

"Well, yes, but Alpine did some things I'm not proud of sharing...." He trails. His mind whirled about what he's saying. He can't just dump his trauma on them!

"What do you mean by that?" Probes Charles. It's not mean or prying. It's gentle and caring. There's a concern in his eyes that he's not seen someone have when he brings up the Alpine situation.

"Being a third driver sucks and it feels mostly like assistant work at times." He sucks in a breath through his teeth. Lando had moved his hand over the top of his, and he couldn't help but feel thankful for the contact. "I was definitely used and overworked before the contract stuff, but it got so much worse after."

The female is looking tentatively between her counterparts. Like asking permission for something.

"It's up to you if you tell him, but please don't scare the poor kid like we did Lando." Chuckles, Max. It's almost unerving to hear such things

"Oscar-" starts the girl as she fumbles around for her words. "There are things I can do, aren't you exactly... normal." She looks around the table for support, and the three boys nod her on with encouragement. She gently grabs Oscar's hand and sets it on the table face up. "If you'll allow me, I can see those memories without you having to talk about them."

He's skeptical, to say the least, but the way the other three are looking at her makes him think she's not lying. "Sure." He shrugs. The curious side of him winning out.

She sets her palm against his. Her skin is so hot it almost burns him. He can feel the back of his brain tickling, and then he loses focus of the present moment.

He's at the Alpine Headquarters. But he's watching himself stride into the room instead if doing it. He's watching his own memories.

"Kinda cool isn't it?"

"Wha?- how?-"

"I can explain more later, but for now, you're in control of what we see."

"This is a week after I signed." He almost wants to run away as he sees himself aproach his team principle and other various staff.

He listens as he gets berated and made to feel selfish. Threats of him always being in debt to the team make him shiver.

Then, the scene changes. The colors and scenery morphs before his eyes. He knows exactly what this is.

The woman beside him offers him her hand, which he gratefully takes.

"We can stop at any point." She reminds him gently. But this is easier. Showing her instead of talking makes it so she can see without him having to listen to his voice crack every thirty seconds.

It's cold outside, the November air hitting his face. His superiors are yelling at him again, just outside the paddock entrance.

He remembers the feeling of holding back tears well. The lump in his throat, trying to break free as he fights it back.

The hand that comes down on his cheek still surprises him. Even at twenty-one it hurt when he felt like it shouldn't. This had been the routine for awhile now. They blame him for the teams mishaps since he created so much drama.

He was so fed up at this point that he just let it continue like it had been since he confirmed that he signed with McLaren.

He was nothing more than a toll before, and he was still one now. He hated every minute of it.

Then nothing.

He's pulled abruptly from the scene like he's awaking from a dream. He wakes up with an oddly comforting sensation running through his body. His hand still entwined with the females.

But she's not awake, and his brain still feels like it's prickling.

He disconnects himself from her, alerting the other three boys that he's once again conscious.

"How'd it go?" Asks Lando, his eyebrows quirked with curiosity.

"If therapy was like that, I think the world would be a better place. Like... I feel oddly warm, and my body feels amazing. Not like- in a weird way."

Charles halts all movement. "You mean you feel good? Like someone took all the ailments your body might have had and made them go away?"

"Uh yeah- exactly that. How do you know?" Then Charles is bolting to get Max, who had just walked into a different part of the room.

Lando hands Oscar a tissue. "For your nose." he hadn't even realized the his nose was bleeding.

Then Lando gently moves back the girl's body. Carefully making her head sit upright. "Oh god." Oscar breathes as he catches a glimpse of her.

"Don't worry, she'll be alright. This is a newer thing to her so she's still testing the limits."

"You mean this has happened before?!" Oscar won't deny the panic rising in his chest. The girls eyes are stuck in the back of her head, bloody tears roll down her cheeks. The same crimson color pooling out of her ears and nose. Her forehead is slick with sweat dampening her hair.

Did he kill her?

"Yeah, in the past more. It's better now because she can find the limits. But again, this is new."

Max and Charles return with rags. Then they move her to their bed and get to work cleaning her up. Lando moves to her side and starts speaking to her, and after about ten minutes, Oscar feels the prickly sensation in his head vanish.

Was she stuck in his head?

Her eyes roll back and close completely. Her chest now heaving in a steady pattern. Oscar releases a breath he didn't know he was holding at the sight.

Charles offers him a reassuring smile. "She must trust you."

"Why me? What makes you say that?"

"Because you're now a part of the 'I know y/n is a superhero club.'" The comment sends the three into a fit of laughter. It makes Oscar able to relax.

Then they just talk while waiting for her to wake up. Staying nervous in case something happened.

They explained everything to him. Her vulnerability with her powers and what they'd been through in Abu Dhabi.

No wonder they're so protective.

As they talked, he realized more about their dynamic. He doesn't have to fit into the puzzle in some specific way. He just needs to be himself and communicate with everyone.

When the girl finally opens her eyes, she looks for him immediately. A warm smile appears on her face when she finds him.

Then he explained what happened with Alpine. The entire reason she'd gone into his head was so he didn't have to talk about it. Yet, the comforting and supportive atmosphere made it easy.

It was late, and they offered to let him stay. He accepted the couch at first before Charles and Lando were just shaking their heads no.

"Listen, they roped us in with the sleep. I swear to you, it seals the deal." Lando winks, and he can't retell if it's suggestive or not.

And he's right. Somehow, wearing a mixture of comfy clothes provided by them and laying peacefully in bed, enjoying each other's presence makes him wake up feeling the best he's ever felt.

"I think I'm sold if you are."

~

The funny thing about Max's first championship title back in 2021 is that they tried to come out, and people collectively said no. Deeming the moments as a burst of energy from Max and that the four are 'best friends.' Which is ridicoulus considering the fact they've been caught kissing each other on different occasions after that.

Some got it, some didn't understand it, and others decided to slander them for it.

The four blamed the PR teams for doing their job too well. It wasn't bad, it just makes things difficult from time to time.

This is one of those occasions.

They aren't saying anything about Oscar yet. Mainly because people are going to say what they want. Oscar is still a rookie, and he could get slammed if people found out. Claiming it as an attempt to get a better spot in the sport.

So it was back to hiding in the small motor home rooms. Unless it's Max, whose room is actually a decent size. This is why all five have ended up here; an hour before the race and taking a minute to get ready. Unless you're the female who is still actively reading through data.

'Mon amour, you can spend two minutes away from your work." Sighs the Monegasque.

She just shakes her head. Almost looking like she's ignoring him.

Charles turns to Max, and the Dutch nods his head sending him a wink. Lando is practically shaking in his spot next to Oscar, and the Australian has no clue why. He just observes what's happening with an open kind, as he's done with everything the last month.

"Sounds like someone isn't listening." Smirks Charles. The female body halts movement at his words. She hastily scrambles to her knees in front of him and hands him her work tablet.

"'mm sorry." She mumbles.

Oscar gets it now. He'd watched them a few times and had participated in a few scenes. Needless to say it was the best sex he'd ever had and doesn't think he could go back.

But this is different. Normally, she doesn't need to apologize because she does everything right. She looks so disappointed in herself as she stares at the floor. They all knew work had taken its toll on her this week. Sergio is struggling to keep up with Max, which meant she had to help figure out where the problem is. She'd had little sleep trying to figure it out and was still working on it even before the race.

Charles bends down to her level. "It's okay Chéri. We’ve just know how stressed you've been and want you to take a break. So how about this: do you want to spend the next hour helping the four of us get ready?"

The way her eyes light up has all four of them melting. It takes approximately fifteen minutes for everyone's clothes to be discarded in a pile.

Limbs are sprawled everywhere, and everyone is enjoying it. Until a certain male comes to the door.

Daniel had a lack of understanding for boundaries. Which means he just opens door without knocking. Unless it’s locked, which is currently not the case.

“Hey Max, Christ-“

Everyone freezes. Daniel is staring like a deer caught in headlights, Max is yelling at him to get out, Charles is trying to shield the females body from view and Lando has Oscar wrapped protectively in the corner.

It not like they were all completely naked, aside from Charles and the girl now having his shirt pulled over her body, but the fact that Daniel won’t close the door is getting frustrating.

Finally, Daniel turns and walks away. Max determining he will be going through the Australians camera roll later today and have another talk about boundaries.

“Everyone okay?” A chorus of yes’ follow Max’s question.

“Doe he do that often?” Pipes Oscar, his head peaking around the corner.

“You have no idea.”

~

Lewis Hamilton notices things. He has a keen eye for detail. So despite their best efforts, he knew Oscar had joined in to make the quartet now a quintet.

It’s ridiculous, he thinks, that they can fight it out on the track and still go home to each other at the end of the night.

That’s what led him to this phone call. “I swear to you Seb, she’s collecting them.”

“And I swear if that’s anything less then a compliment I’ll force a Redbull can down your throat.”

“No need to get violent, I just don’t get how they manage. Aren’t you worried?”

“No.” The deadpan in his voice makes Lewis ishiver with the fear of an angry protective Seb. “For some reason I think it was meant to be.”

“And if one of them hurts her?”

“Then there are three others to make sure she knows she’s still loved.”

~

Oscar had caught on quickly to the less typical rules of the house. Like how Charles is not allowed anywhere near the kitchen and the unspoken shower schedule.

He’d found his place with them and now feels as though they are in step with each other. The white board on the wall by the door is littered with notes and reminders to keep communication flowing.

Tonight, however, is interesting because it’s just him and her. The other three having gone out to a club on their off weekend. The other two opting to stay home and chill.

Oscar grabs out their favorite snacks then climbs back into bed with her. He’d felt strongly for her after she was in his head. Something the other four have felt as well. This invisible rope pulling them to each other. Like she has bonded them by more then something as simple as love.

“Did you pick out something to watch?”

“Yep! I wish the boys would let us watch true crime when they’re home.” She curls herself into Oscar and hits play.

“They are just a little paranoid sometimes.” He kisses the top of her head. Another unspoken rule of the house: physical contact is the best way to communicate. Its something he’s used to already, three sisters who’s have similar love languages can teach you a lot.

“I don’t see why they would be. I can stop any intruder with my mind powers.” She snickers as herself.

~

The three boys stumble up to their apartment. All of them having to much to drink but are still able to walk- with the support of the wall, of course.

They fall through the door, kick off their shoes and fall into bed. The three so disoriented themselves that they didn’t see the disarray of the apartment on their way in.

Sleep taking over so quickly that they couldn’t see the hastily scribbled note peaking out from under the lamp.

~

The light from the room sears into Oscars eyes as he tries to wake himself up. His head is pounding and the white walls of the room are not helping.

Where is he?

He sits himself up in the stiff bed. His surroundings are entirely unfamiliar. It’s a cell of some sort. The mirror in the middle of the wall can tell him that much. Most likely somone is watching him from the other side.

But why?

They went to bed last night fine. The three were still at the club while the other two were curled up in bed. There was a knock at the door, loud enough to wake both of them. They assumed is was their, most likely, drunken partners.

Instead she had been greeted by the familiar face of the man who ran away during the Abu Dhabi incident. Her reaction time was much better then his. Oscar opened the door and was of the floor seconds later. A large needle now sticking out of his partners arm.

Yet she didn’t fall.

Most likely it was the same drug used in her before. She’d told Oscar about when her father got to her at a race. How he’d managed to knock her out in a similar way.

She’d protected him from the drug and now she needed to get them both away safely.

The apartment was in shambles when they’d finally sedated him also. The first guy having brought back-up with him. She could have managed one, but six made it difficult and she took a beating.

Not like Oscar got out unscathed either. He could feel where his ribs are most likely cracked and the bruises on his skin hurt when he puts any sort of pressure on them. There’s a few lines of dried blood from cuts and his lip is split from whoever punched him in the face.

He’d managed to scribble out a note while they were focused in her. He knew he wasn’t winning this and the phone is risky since it could take to long. He settled for a note he prayed they would see. Then they came after him.

Where the hell is he and where the hell is she?

She’s not here with him. The panic settling into his bones as he realizes that she’s not here with him.

His head is pulsing. His vision is starting to swim. He can’t even get a word out as sleep takes hold of him again.

~

Charles wakes up first. He smiles when he sees Lando and Max still snoring, assuming the other two who probably got decent sleep are up and about.

The room is an absolute mess. It looks like they threw their own party.

Nope, definitely not. Neither of them really like parties. Maybe they decided to have their own fun last night. If that’s the case then he’s already making plans for later.

He ventures to the kitchen for water. Something unnerving settling over him as he sees it’s not just their room, but the whole flat. Furniture has been flipped, shelves are knocked over, glass is broken, and the blood spatters in the floor make him want to vomit.

“Max!” He yells. His body paralyzed from the sight. “Max! Lando! Please you need to see this!”

The other two come around the corner disoriented. They have a similar reaction to the monegasque.

Max quickly gets his head straight and begins searching the house for any sign of their younger lovers.

Nothing.

Aside from a hastily scribbled note shoved under the lamp.

Three words and a name: attacked, drugged, help, Oscar.

Max feels his chest ready to explode. How could he have let this happen again? It makes no sense. They were supposed to be safe here. They were supposed to be able to move in and live without fear.

He supposes fate works in cruel ways.

~

The security footage was less then helpful. The authorities invaded everyone’s personal space. Seb is in a plane to Monaco but wouldn’t be here til later. And ti top it all off, the front security person lay lifeless in the security office.

It couldn’t get any worse and Lando is forced to watch it all. Watching his lovers, one of them also his teammate, get dragged down the fire escape stairs that run through the building was not in his bucket list.

So he sits and he stares and he breaths. His mind trying to explain the situation to him over and over agin.

The authorities had been taking them in for questioning. He’d gotten done first. The officer said he should get some water. He obviously looks distressed.

Maybe he deserves to feel like he can’t breath. Maybe that’s how they felt when they realized what was happening.

A figure slumps themselves down next to him.

Max.

“Is this our fault?” He mumbles out.

Max pulls Land into him. “My mind wants to think so, but I know it’s not.”

“How do you know?” Lando looks up at Max. The Dutch is staring off into the distance, pondering how to put it into words.

“Even if we were here and sober when it happened, they would have gotten us too. Her visions only provide so much information at given times and even though we’re fit and can surely hit hard, they are combat trained.”

“So you’re saying we wouldn’t have made a difference.” Lando’s voice cracks at the suggestion.

“No, not at all what I’m saying. We would have had a better chance but things have played out this way. Now we have to get them back because we’re the only ones who can.” Max explains. His hands find Lando’s hair and comfortingly plays with his curls. “We’ll find them Lan, I promise.”

Both if them sit in silence for a few moments before they are interrupted by angry strings of French.

“I’ve lost my language! Nobody understands my French, my English, my Italian!” Shouts the frustrated monegasque. A less then happy officer just shakes their head in defeat.

“What do you reckon he’s on about?”

“Probably how everyone has been asking that same question.”

~

Oscar is pulled from his restless slumber by a new figure. A familiar face.

y/n.

He knows this is probably a dream. He only has so much time to bask in her warmth before he wakes up for real.

“Oscar please wake up. We need to go.” There’s a frantic urgency in her voice. She shaking his shoulders.

“Are you real?” Whatever they’d been dosing him with to keep him sedated after he tried to break the mirror had caused him to hallucinate a few times. They’d wake him up at set times to eat and use the bathroom, then would put him back to sleep. His arms now have small circular outlines from the constant jab on needles.

She cuts his face with her hands. “I’m real and can get us out but we don’t have much time.”

Oscar shoots himself out of bed. A discarded needle on the floor and the sore spot on his arm tells him she figured out how to wake him up from his unwanted slumber.

He takes a minute to asses her. She’s in new clothes. Well- not new, just different. A pair of basketball shirts and a t-shirt four sizes to big with holes taking up more then the fabric.

She bleeding in multiple places and it looks like she’s struggling to breathe. There is so much to process about everything wrong with the picture. She looks absolutely wrecked. But then again, maybe he doesn’t look that much better.

His ribs don’t hurt as he stands. Actually, he feels shockingly good and- “please tell me you didn’t heal me.”

She sets her eyes in the floor and takes his hand in hers.

He’s got shoes on and she doesn’t, he notes.

It feels oddly empty and he wonders where they are. It looks like some sort of old bunker. It’s dark and musty as he sets foot outside the door.

She puts him along with her. The girls head scanning everything for potential threats. He’d never seen her so focused.

There’s heavy footsteps echoing through the corridors. Shouts can be heard from down the hall. The girl leading him is getting more unstable by the second. He can see her body swaying.

He notices the blood spatters on the walls but doesn’t say anything about it. He just lets her guide him out, his head still foggy from everything.

Her steps get slower and his body reacts quicker then hers. She doesn’t touch the floor as Oscar scoops her into his arms.

He knows they can’t stay here. It’s absolutely freezing, both of them are shivering. He treks with her a while longer. Relief hits him as he finds a secluded corner.

He just needs to rest a minute. Why’s it so cold in here? He knows his body is exhausted. It’s not going to let him continue. It’s not like a race where he can keep the adrenaline flowing.

He holds the girl close to him. Her lips are trembling and blue.

Just a minute, he tells himself, then he’ll will them both out of here.

~

Search party’s became their best bet.

They’d ruled out them leaving the country. Monaco is a small place so it would be hard for someone to slip away unnoticed. Last time she was taken, someone caught them with her but didn’t know she was being kidnapped. They came forward with their information.

Similarly, someone said they recognized Oscar in the back of a car asleep.

Amateurs.

Sebastian has been searching for them day and night. Hanna and the kids have moved themselves to Monaco for the time being.

Two weeks.

The other three had to reluctantly go back to racing. It was only after lengthy discussion with their teams that they did. Lando was suffering from missing a teammate and now lover.

Oscars family had also been involved. They didn’t understand what was happening. So many questions that Seb wanted to answer but couldn’t for his own daughters safety.

He knew they would be okay. If only he could find them.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It’s close to midnight and the caller ID is unknown. He answered expecting the worst but hoping for the best.

“Dad.” It didn’t matter how static and broken the word was, he knew it was her.

“Y/N? Where are you love?” He wanted to ask if she was okay but that had to come later. After he finds her.

A static group of numbers is mumbled through. He grabs an writing utensil and scratches it down in the nearest surface. Disregard for their hotel the furthest thing from his mind.

Her heavy breathing fill his ears. “I’m gonna come get you, okay?”

She’s panting and he can hear her moving. Voices in the background speaking English. He can hear every second of her screams getting quieter as they drag her away from him.

~

Lando nearly dropped his phone.

He’d done a race without Oscar and it was the worst thing he’d ever done in his career.

He’d lost lovers for a second time in the span of two years.

Now Seb is saying he knows where they are.

It’s only Thursday meaning they can fly back. There is still time. But he needed to get to Charles and Max who reluctantly are in a press conference. Where most likely answering questions about the missing female and Australian.

Lando runs. He’s never run so fast but his legs a caring him at top speeds.

He bursts through the door. Everyone stares at him and he freezes for a moment before he remembers why he’s here.

“They found them.”

~

Charles had never been so cold in his life. These tunnels they’re meandering around in seem neverending.

The area had hopefully been cleared of everyone who wanted to hurt them and now they were able to join the search parties.

Seb and Hanna had gone a different direction then the three boys. Hopefully they would be able to cover more ground this way. Oscars parents would be here when they could. They’d flown back to Australia to take care of some things with his sisters and they would all be flying back together.

Max sent his jet for them so they didn’t have to wait on a flight.

Charles looks between his the Dutch and Brit. They’d had little sleep the last couple of weeks. Angry at the world for what it’s putting them through.

They’d been staying in the same hotel as Seb in case something happened. Their apartment is still trashed and it’s not like it’s safe there anymore anyway.

“Oscar! Y/N!” Lando is losing his voice from all the yelling. Charles could hear the lump in his throat that wanted to be let out so bad.

Charles shines his flashlight around looking for any sort of corridor they may be down. It’s dirty, the floors are wet, and in his head this is the sort of place to be haunted.

He notices a a gap in the wall. If he wasn’t looking so hard he’d have definitely missed it. He peaks his head around and shine his light around. His heart nearly bursting at the sight of two familiar figures.

“I found them!”

Charles steps through the gap and inches closer, praying they aren’t dead.

The echo of the footsteps wakes Oscar, his hands shielding his face from the light.

Charles is careful about approaching. He notices the way the Australian is scrambling to move them farther away. “Stay away!” His voice is weak and scratchy.

Lando and Max slide around the corner.

“Oscar it’s me, it’s Lando.” The Brit wastes no time sliding to his knees in front of them. The disoriented state of Oscar only making him more panicked and he thrashes, doing his best to keep the still unconscious girl behind him.

Lando gently holds his face. Almost forcing the younger to look at his face. Oscars breathing evens as he meets Lando’s eyes.

Then he breaks. The cracked wails bouncing of the wall.

Lando looks at Charles and Max. “He’s freezing.” They’re all shrugging off their coats and bundling up the two.

Then their walking out of that place.

The five of them.

~

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @chanshintien @vellicora

[bonefall]

From revisiting the passage where Honeyfern dies (for REASONS), I'm so disappointed to share that it's not as cool as I remember. Goddamn it.

Canonically speaking......

A dark-colored snake of indeterminate species randomly gets into camp and appears from behind a rock

The word "adder" is not even found in the entire book of sunrise. Maybe it was a black mamba.

Honeyfern doesn't fight the nondescript snake. She jumps in front of it as it 'rears up' to bite Briarkit.

The snake vanishes in-between chapters. I'm serious, we don't know where the snake goes and no one deals with it between chapters 16 and 17 of Sunrise. The camp becomes concerned that the snake "will come back" later on

They start planting deathberry/yew to deter the snake so it doesn't come back... that's ridiculous. Yew does not deter snakes.

Leafpool doesn't help at all. She looks at Cinderheart hoping she'll do something because of the Ghost Thing

Eventually though Leafpool shrugs and says, "Nothing I can do."

ACCORDING TO AUTHORIAL STATEMENTS: The writers killed Honeyfern to introduce deathberries to camp for how Hollyleaf threatens Leafpool later. That's not how it comes across in the chapter.

Because the immediate thing that happens, right after Leafpool says she can't help, is Berrynose acting uncharacteristically mature to comfort her in her last moments.

He cuddles her as she dies a gruesome, painful death, telling her how cute their children would have been and how they'll meet again in heaven.

What I'm saying is; if there hadn't been Word of God statements that her death was for a different purpose, this would have come across as just another woman being brutally put in the fridge to give a male character romantic pain.

Definitely a case where the fandom has made a moment a lot cooler than it actually was. I did like the "MY BLOOD IS ON FIRE" line though.

[daliasmay]

The most ridiculous arguments I've ever seen from E/riels is not about "the smell of bread and roses", no, but about the sunshine she needs in her life, black dress and about that godforsaken city. It takes a megamind to use such arguments.

"Velaris has sunshine", "There's sun in the NC too", "The NC is a sun court we remind you", "Some flowers can bloom in the dark"

Even if the NC has a sun, it it still a night fucking court. n-i-g-h-t. This word means something, isn't it? Spring also has nights and it wasn't a right place for Feyre anyway. And you'd think Elain and Elucien's words about sunshine are just about only the damn flowers and the sun in the sky that rises in the morning and goes down in the evening. Please!

"They dressed her badly so that Eris would ignore her, lol", "They dressed her like that on purpose because they didn't want Elaine's beauty to overshadow Nesta's"

What the fuck?

Eris is completely indifferent to Elain as a woman. It isn't difficult to understand. And he is Lucien's brother, just fun to remember, who saved his life, looked at him with sadness in ACOWAR and visited him in ACOSF. Eris was interested only in Nesta. He is also a fashionable male and he looked at Elain with ✨assessing gaze✨. I suppose he's also noticed how much the black colour doesn't suit her (She used the perfect complement to her black dress - pearls - but even that couldn't save her from the colour that sucked the life out of her), not to mention the fact that he probably knows that she's his brother's mate. So delulu and simple demonstrating a zero reading skills if they understand the text like that. Basta!

It is also equally unfair to both sisters to say that. Nesta is a queen without her sisters, she is amazing woman by her own without any "help". She doesn't need any favours.

Elain is amazing woman, no need to dress her badly on purpose to make someone shine.

Sisters are amazing by their own. They all have their own powers and characters. I feel so sorry for those who don't understand it and use such stupid arguments to explain their ship.

"She is ok in Velaris, Velaris is her home, no need to worry about the Hewn City", "Her home in Velaris and in the NC. She doesn't want to leave the place where her family and nephew lives!!! She has a work - tending to Feyre's gardens and helping people in Velaris with theirs. She is happy!", "The Hewn City is not Elaine's place, that's why she was ridiculous there, Cassian meant that", "She can live in Velaris, she was healthy there!", "You want to take her away from the family that she loves and that loves her. You are a misogynist and Elain hater!", "Cassian is an unreliable narrator, he understand nothing in fashion. We can't believe him!"

PLEASE!

Night Court is her home, but not the Hewn City and Illyrians lands. Night Court is her home, but only in the borders of that retched city. How can they claim that the Night Court is her home, and at the same time erase most of the Court, including its official capital and royal residence?

Velaris is a huge hole that has been closed for thousands of years, and The Night Court is not Velaris, ThE CoUrT oF DrEaMs, how SJM called them, who loves to segregate their own citizens and think about 90% of the Court as scum and lowlifes, and do nothing to make their lives better.

If the Night Court is her home, don't sort its parts.

Cassian is an unreliable narrator, but Feyre with her fantasies and "What if the Cauldron was wrong?" is a very-very reliable narrator, yes-yes. Selective reading will strike you one day and it will be very hurt.

And here we are, with Elain and flowers, when she said the opposite to Nesta in ACOSF. Being Feyre's gardener and personal family baker aren't about her personal growth. Like being Azriel's personal houseplant.

The black dress was a metaphor. It is so cute how they can see things that are not there, but miss the log in their own eyes. (the rose necklace and the whole Azriel's bonus chapter, I can't).

I really don't know how they came up with that.

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.6<< >>Ch.8

Notes: Miguel is letting those barriers drop, ooohh. And the attraction is most certainly there.

CW: Sexual daydreams, Masturbation

Chapter 7: Even if It's For One Night

Word count: 4.1K

Nearly a week passed as you scoped out the door whenever you heard the chimes. 

You two maintained your everyday messaging, as you refrained from distressing him about stopping by, taking in what he told you.

Yet, a part of you still hoped he strolled through that door.

“I appreciate the donations, but not when there are so damn many of them!”

A woman a few years older than you stumbled out with an enormous box on both arms, her wild, wavy hair peeking out from the sides.

“Remind me to never take donations unless cash is involved.”

“A charitable donation is a charitable donation, Ronnie. Rather you like it or not.” You didn't look up from your phone as you giggled at something on the screen.

“Money is also seen as a charitable one! So make it easier for me.”

Ronnie peered over to her employee, whose head still refused to rise from the device.

“Who are you texting?”

“Take a guess.” You tilted a bit to acknowledge her.

“Ah yes. Him.” She teasingly piped.

Ronnie plopped the cardboard box of fabrics and other accessories on the counter.

“When will you tell me more about him?!”

“What is there more to say that I haven't already said, Ronnie?” You sighed and began to scoop out the cute clothes.

Rompers seem to be back in style.

“Uh, besides the name and that he's a ‘great guy,’ not much is being fed to me. I need the buffet, the nine-course meal.”

You gave her an impassive face. Your boss placed a hand on her forehead, dramatically but carefully, flopping her back on the check-out countertop.

“I'm practically starving. You're just letting me fade away. You dangle the sandwich, yet reel it back whenever I'm in reach.” She exaggerated, making sure to enunciate. Every. Single. Word.

“I thought you wanted a full thirty-course meal? Why did it get reduced to a sandwich?”

“Don't change the subject" She stuck her tongue out. “And it was nine, but come on! Just tell me something. You always smile at your phone when you tell me you're texting the guy.”

She threw her arms up in a very animated manner.

“Ronnie, you'll survive.”

The woman grumbled and wrapped her arms around her chest like a pouting child who didn't get their way.

Then her face did a one-eighty.

“As your superior, I command you to tell me.”

“Oh for fuc- Ronnie, that's abuse of power! That's in the work guidelines for beginners.” Your hands slid down your face in pure agony.

“Nuh-uh. Um, um, obstruction of the peace.” Ronnie countered.

“I don't think you're even using that correctly.”

“Obstruction of the peace!” Ronnie's batty grin only disconcerted you more than before.

“Oh my gosh. He's tall, dark, and beautiful. There. Has the appetite been fed?” You began to dump the clothing back into the box, already exhausted from your "leader's” shenanigans.

“Hmm, let me think–no.” Ronnie frivolously perked her elbows up, her balled-up fingers smushing her cheeks. “Not until I see concrete proof. Hard evidence.”

You groaned, plucking the box off the wooden surface. “I swear you are just a handful. If you need me, I'll be in the back sorting clothes.”

“Aw, you're going to do that for me? You are so sweet! But don't think this conversation is over. We are jus-”

Before Ronnie could finish, you zipped off in the opposite direction, yelling that you were ‘too far away to hear the rest.’

You unleashed a lengthy exhale after that agonizing ordeal. You were aware that Ronnie didn't want to organize, so she found a cheeky escape route. And you couldn't criticize her curiosity. 

When the dead workdays pop up, you're usually on your phone texting him. Giggling like a schoolgirl who somehow was able to obtain their crush's number.

He manages to make your knees all jelly, so flimsy. The grasp he has you webbed in is ridiculous. How you're caught up in the bewitching netting. Is it wrong? Is this an inappropriate way to envision someone you're admiring? 

Spinning one into a web is usually viewed as distasteful, deceptive, and abysmal.

Sickening. Revolting.

Yet this web, like most, is silky and luscious. You don't seem to believe you're the prey–far from it. Restrained in the powerful strings is something that beckons you. What you seek.

Awaiting him, trusting him. Knowing that the mesh is used to protect. In a way that serves not only him but you as well. You don't sense any threats. No harm from him to you. You're confident about it. It's as if you fully know. Comprehending it in all of its certainty.

Besides, the only time you'll undoubtedly feel threatened, afraid is if you are bound, dangling exposed for him to take in every part. His claws and fangs grazed, scraping across your delicate skin, leaving tiny scratches all over.

His eyes locked on yours. Mouth gagged as you wouldn't be able to beg, but your body does it for you. His hands will grope every inch... his full lips kissing down so slowly, so hungrily until he reaches right in between your trembling, soaking thi-

You slapped yourself mentally and physically.

“Stop it, you pervert!” You quietly hissed and began to sort through the clothes, struggling to remove all those thoughts from your mind.

Pretending that the tingly sensation isn't sparking in-between said thighs. He shouldn't have this effect on you. But the state he put you in speaks otherwise.

Ronnie was skimming through a stack of books she's been purposely evading for the past week when she heard the hanging chimes near the front entrance jingle.

“Oh goody. A person.” She mumbled in a snarky tone before putting on her half-assed customer service voice.

“Hi there. Welcome to Adequate Antique Aaa–Abs-o-licious!”

Ronnie was fully astonished by the colossal, hunky model of a man standing in her tiny shop.

She continued to stare as Miguel stood there uneasy, his eyes covered, but the expression was undoubtedly frigid. 

Soft rock played on the overhead speaker as the gawking from Ronnie lasted another thirty seconds until Miguel cleared his throat, breaking that unwarranted silence.

“Oh! Right. How may I help you, my good sir? Anything you have particularly in mind? You're also very, very welcome to peruse our many, many trinkets.” Ronnie shoved the books aside. An overly flirtatious grin crossed her lips, her eyebrows bouncing up and down.

“I'm looking for somebody who works here. They should be in today.” Miguel's stoicism refused to leave.

Ronnie's attempted wooing fled as she scrunched her face at him. “Someone who works here–oh. Oh! You're tall, dark, and beautiful!”

Miguel was taken aback by the sudden exclamation.

“Tall, dark, and beauti-”

She interrupted Miguel before he could even question what she could possibly imply by that.

“Yeah! No, I'll go get her for you!”

Miguel was blurred by the woman and the situation as a whole.

“I can go look for her–”

“I have someone up here to see you!”

Miguel slightly flinched as Ronnie shouted and whacked both her hands on the hardwood counter before turning her attention back onto him.

“She'll be up here soon.” Ronnie beamed at the even more exhausted Miguel.

A few seconds passed when a new voice emerged from the side.

“Why bother giving me this beeper if you're never going to use- oh! This is a very pleasant surprise.”

You internally screeched and flipped around. A smile spread across your face as you took a few steps toward him. He was actually here. 

Miguel softened. His body unwinded as he warmly gazed down at you. “I managed to sneak in some free time and wanted to take a peek at the store myself.”

“I'm so glad you stopped by. You okay? They didn't harass you about this, did they?”

Miguel's stomach had those metaphorical butterflies floating endlessly. His own smile forming over your worries.

“Ah, no, not as much.” He had to lie. He didn't want you fretting over him.

“Good. That's good. I'm glad they're easing up on you.”

You didn't mean to come off as nosy. It was a sudden switch for you. A new defensive mode whenever something was visibly agitating or troubling him.

The sensations he brings.

Ronnie darted between the two, seemingly drifting into each other's eyes. Even if Miguel was wearing sunglasses, Ronnie knew what was up. Coughing loudly to break the ogling, you both jumped back as Miguel scratched his head, and you turned your attention to your employer.

“Sooo, are you going to introduce me?”

You puffed some air out, disregarding Ronnie's shit-eating grin.

“Ronnie, this is Miguel. Miguel, this is my boss, Ronnie.”

“Hm, so this is the famous Ronnie I've heard about.”

“Gasp! I'm actually talked about outside of work? I knew you secretly adored me!”

You groaned as the humiliation settled almost instantaneously. Miguel just offered half a smile before dropping it a second later. He honestly didn't know how to react.

“And I prefer infamous!” Ronnie pumped her chest with way too much pride.

“You do know infamous isn't a good thing.”

You tried to clarify, but Ronnie bolted to the next thing.

“And Miguel. My my, aren't you a gorgeous man? Girl, you didn't tell me he also had an inviting, buttery voice.”

Your right eye twitched. Miguel tensed from this encounter.

“Actually, she didn't tell me much about you besides your name and that ‘you're one great guy.’” She indiscreetly winked, as you were ready to slam your head down on the counter. Maybe hard enough for a concussion.

“But I do know how happy she gets whenever she's talking to you. I swear her face lights up with this adorable twinkle when her Migg-”

“Okay, that's enough!” You stumble your body in between Miguel and the timber furniture.

Miguel and Ronnie stared anxiously at your sudden outburst. The music continued to whisk over them for a couple of seconds until you gulped audibly.

“I didn't mean to yell. That shouldn't have come out like that. I'm sorry, Ronnie.”

She waved her hand dismissively.

“Nah, it's all good. Go ahead and take your break. I'll finish up your tasks. And hey, it was nice meeting you, Miguel. Take care of my girl.”

Miguel blushed before bobbing his head. “Of course. Nice meeting you as well.”

You scampered to grab your things as the two headed out. You called out a goodbye to Ronnie and went to enjoy this time.

You both decided to head on over to an Asian street food restaurant. Thankfully, it was slow, as only three people preoccupied the other tables.

“Have you ever been here before?” You scrolled down the digital menu, figuring out what you wanted.

“No. I don't think I've even ventured this far out of work.” Miguel observed the area, taking note of all the different Asian cultures plastered on the walls. 

“How far is your job from here?”

“It’s about a thirty-five, forty-minute walk.” 

You began calculating the distance from there. “So around two miles? Twenty minutes is equal to a mile, right?”

He nodded. “But I bought it down to ten. I'm sure you can figure out how.”

You blinked until it hit you. “Ah yes, you swung on by.”

Miguel shot you a disappointed glance as you goofily grinned. “Are you sure you aren't secretly a spider person?”

“I don't have that terrifyingly stellar intelligence.” You lightly tapped your noggin. 

Eventually, you two ordered, plunging into that soothing silence. The warmth he cascades upon you has your stomach in knots. You squeeze your legs together, trying to furiously distract your mind from something else. 

Then Miguel took a sip of his water, some dribbling down the side of his mouth. You squeaked as your subconscious pried its way through, wanting those certain thoughts to emerge. 

“I remember you telling me that you have sensitive eyes. Is that why you wear sunglasses even indoors?” You locked those feelings back. 

“Si. That, and I don't think many would find my eyes appealing to gaze into. Why I've been called ‘vampire’ so much. ¡Esa mierda se vuelve tan molesta! ¡No sé por qué sienten la necesidad de bur-”

“Your eyes are appealing to me. They are very breathtaking. Like staring into two dazzling rubies.”

He reclined back in the seat as the compliment caught him completely off guard. He can't remember the last time a flattering remark was made. Maybe as a joke, or when Peter bizarrely proclaimed he has ‘very ravishing red orbs,’ but not genuine praise.

You purse your lips, chastising yourself secretly for even blurting out something like that. 

“I-I'm sorry. I should've been more mindful of what I said.”

He removed his glasses and placed them on the table.

A string snapped.

You glimpsed at the shades, then back at him, before a smile took over. You leaned forward as you both got lost in each other's words. 

The food was steaming hot, emitting heavenly scents of herbs and spices. Mouth-watering, you promptly begin to chow down, humming in satisfaction.

“Always the best to come when no one is barely around.” You declared, stuffed with a mouthful of udon.

“No need to rush. They're able to be precise with the cooking.” He mindfully slurps some of his miso soup and sighs out.

“Mhm!” You gladly agreed, gulping down the tasty noodles.

“Oh! I was meaning to ask. Are they finally used to you taking well-deserved breaks? They must be if you took an afternoon one versus your usual night ones.” You held your bowl of udon up, offering some to him before he politely declined.

“Yeah. I told them I needed to pick up a few pieces for this upcoming project I'm working on, and they were fine with it.” He took a swig of his condensed glass of water. 

Lies. Miguel recollected the events that led up to this spontaneous outing.

He was already seething when an anomaly nearly threatened to disrupt a canon event due to ridiculously cocky rookies who took the situation too carelessly. He doesn't enjoy shelling out verbal lashings. In fact, he can't stand them. But if others refuse to understand the dire conditions they're in, then it's the only means necessary to get the point across. 

And on top of that mess, he still wasn't at the shop. Every time he would pluck up the effort to go, he would repeatedly hinder his opportunities. 

Internal excuses after excuses. If he's not present, disarray will happen. If he's not here, who will scrutinize the multiverse? Who will conduct sweep checks to make sure the technology is in proper working order? There was too much on his plate, and each day he wasn't there, the more his temper was easier to set off. 

But a few hours earlier, something possessed him as he requested Jess and Peter B. to come to his office.

“The other day, I stumbled upon an ample amount of curios I exactly needed for this new project I'm undertaking.” Miguel's back turned as he searched, trying to remember the name of the store. 

“So you need one of us to pick up the par-”

“No! You two will stay here and keep an eye on things.” He hissed as Jess folded her arms over her prominent, protruding belly. 

She decided to let that rude, interrupting outburst slide. For now.

“Miguel, are you okay? You've been seeming more, um, what's the word I'm looking for?”

“More of an ass?” 

Miguel scowled at Jess as she held that unshakable glare whenever he got this way. 

“Uh, no, not necessarily that. More piqued, disgruntled! Yeah, that's it!” Peter patted where the sling for Mayday usually was. 

“Look. I'll be gone for about a couple of hours and then back with the goobers.”

Peter was perfectly fine with that response, but Jess's skeptical eyes and frown practically dug into his skull; however, she opted to take his word with a pinch of salt. 

The accumulated goggles of spider-people ticked Miguel off as the murmurs of their superior, nonchalantly walking out of the lobby, was going to be next the buzzing topic.

Though it didn't matter, as far as he was concerned, getting to you was his main priority. 

“Miguel? You okay?” You rested your hand on his, which would dwarf yours, as concern registered all over your face. 

“What?” He rocked a bit, skimming the area, before his awareness landed on you.

“You seemed lost in thought for a good while. I thought it was because you were enjoying the food so much that I decided to let you be. But it started to scare me when you wouldn't answer after five minutes.”

He peeked at the table that lay nearly empty dishes. Did he become so absent-minded that he managed to finish his entire meal without uttering a single word to you?

And yet, you remained poised, uncomplaining. 

“Here, let's get back to the antique shop. The lunch rush hour is starting to pick up.” You whirled around, minding the influx of hungry customers piling in. 

You paid for his meal and yours as Miguel tried to intervene, but you heavily insisted. In a battle he wasn't winning, he let you be.

Jostling out and heading back, you made small conversation. You were still quite concerned, wondering what was dwelling in his mind. 

“Did you enjoy the meal?” You swayed your arms back and forth in no particular rhythm.

“Yes, it was delicious; the flavors blended well. And I will pay you back for my half.”

“You don't have to! It was my pleasure to-”

“I insist. Tell me the cost, and I will pay you back for it.” He instructed more than asked.

A surge rushed through your veins and directly to your lower region. “I-I will think of something instead.”

“Good gi- good. That's fine, just let me know.” He caught himself before that inappropriate comment slipped. He didn't know what seized his mind to nearly exclaim that. 

You didn't catch it. He thanked the universe, as he would never forgive himself if you did hear that disgusting phrase from him. 

The remainder of the stroll was mute until returning to the shop. Ronnie fanatically welcomed you both back, questioning and teasing about the outing.

“Did you enjoy yourselves? I know I sure would if I were by this godly, glorious man!” 

Reprimanding her, you swiped up Miguel's forearm, leading him away as Ronnie cheekily yelled not to destroy her things.

“Don't get too handsy, if you catch my drift!”

Ultimately overlooking that, you and Miguel browsed the many knickknacks and ornaments encompassing every cranny. Miguel was in awe of the countless artifacts and objects. 

Though it didn't beat the liveliness from you as you described the items, elucidating the sea of stories behind a chunk of the goods.

He got lost in your love for this.

How you're able to enjoy the simplest things in life. How you manage to discover the inner beauty and soul in things, no matter how dented or defaced they appear. How you make it look so easy. Yet, how would you react to the heinous crimes he committed? Would you still find that same beauty and soul in him? No, clearly not. 

He convinced himself otherwise.

Plucking an electronic gizmo from a stand, you brought it up to his face when you noticed him wearily zoning out. There was something draining him, and your instincts to alleviate it kicked in.

“Miguel, do you think this piece will help with the project you're working on?”

He inched his head down to see a gear with a tiny motherboard covering the surface.

A crooked smile tugged from him as fingers curled around the miniscule tool, brushing against your palm. “Yes, this will be fine. Thank you.” 

That electrical touch he gives never fails to give you shivers.

That softness you hold never fails to bring him to his knees. 

“I know how you can pay me back.” You shifted through some bins in search of more gear for him. 

“Oh, and how is that?”

“There's a botanical garden near here, and I pass by it every time but never get the chance to go as I use my off days to rest up.”

“So, like a hangout or a date?” Miguel rummaged in the bins with you.

“Whatever you want it to be.” You grinned, carefully headbutting your head on his bicep.

His breath hitched, cheeks heating, as his stomach began to twist. He shouldn't. He shouldn't. 

“Deal then.”

A string broke.

That joy never wavered from either one. 

“Oh, and by the way.” Miguel pulled himself out of a trance. 

“Hm?”

“Tall, dark, and beautiful?”

“...Ronnie!” You jerked yourself to your feet and began to admonish your guilty leader, as Miguel held in his laughter. 

Saying his farewells with a container stuffed with gadgets that he'll cram somewhere to find uses for them later, a hunger bellowed within. His thoughts were rampant. Never ceasing. Not even the rosy pink and sunset orange skies wouldn't sedate his brain from going back to you. 

A date… no, you are only hanging out. That's it. 

He doesn't imagine the bright smile you'll have as you stroll by an array of flowers. Or how beautiful the hues from them and the sun will bring out your skin tone. Or what adorable outfit you'll choose to wear. Or what you will chat about…

He doesn't think about you lying on the ground, hidden from the public eye, enclosed by Mother Nature's blossoming fluorescence. Your stunning legs folded around his waist, nails dragging down his back as he strenuously thrusts into you when he–

A sudden thunderous clap roared from above, knocking him back to reality. To Miguel, the dark clouds arose to freeze that line of lust. Miguel closed his eyes. You mustn't have them as well. It was only his sick, perverted imagination going in that direction. 

He decided to just dawdle the rest of the way back, even if the rain caught him. He'll deal with the plethora of complaints from Jess later. Right now, he craves that alone time.

Halfway there, Miguel eventually accepted that you would never cross the path he chose. Especially for a man like him. And he wouldn't blame you one bit... 

You grasped your pillow for dear life as a finger plunged deep within your folds.

“Mi-Miguel! Deeper!”

Your faint whimpers were drowned out by the thunder. You leaked on your fresh, crisp sheets. Just as the nightly rain drips, so do you.

“Don't stop; please never stop! Oh Miguel!”

You gasped out his name. It felt so sinful on your tongue, yet flowed out like smooth, red wine.

Adding another finger, your eyes rolled in the back of your skull. The only thing that plagued, no, graced your mind was the thought of his long digits pumping into you.

The more you imagined, the more your pointer and middle fingers slipped in and out in rapid succession. Your velvety, wet walls clenching so nicely.

Could you take him? Will you feel every part? Every throb, every vein? How warm would it be? Cozy? Or burning due to the desires you'll both share?

You whined in sync with the roaring bolt. You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't.

But you couldn't stop.

Unbeknownst to you, in the middle of the city, in the middle of it all, a grunt sprang out in his own room, the walls concealing his impurity.

“Yes, just like that. You're such a good girl.”

Miguel lay spread on his mattress as he vigorously pumped up and down. His unrestrained clawed hand moving at speeds that no human will ever be able to keep up with.

Veins coursed all over his girth, no matter which angle one peeked at. He was burning, his length on fire. 

He squeezed, emitting another grunt. Globs of precum ran down as he tugged brutally and madly. He imagined it was you riding him for dear life.

“Montas a papi tan bien, bebita.”

He groaned as rumbles from the sky joined in. His mind crossed you with every jerk.

How tight would you be? Would he be able to force every inch? He would make it work. He wants to mold you just for him, that you can take it all.

Will you spill over as he thrusts into you at a swift pace? Squirting out all over his tongue or cock?

He growled as his imagination ran feral. His palm slapping against his balls, propelling his hips at irregular tempos. He hears the rain violently drumming against his window, overlooking the ones who look up. 

Yet, the only thing he wants to gaze down upon are those pretty lips wrapped around him. Looking up at him.

Looking up with lust and love. Genuine love.

The downpour can cover his wrongs, but it won't matter. His thoughts for you will fall from him.

He could not stop. He knew he could've.

Yet he should have. He knows he shouldn't stop. The flames spread, shining more within the concealed darkness.

[cvrnelians]

if the fates allow - chapter one

dark!bucky barnes x reader: As could be expected, you were just a tad upset about having to spend Christmas in a mental health facility. On the brightside, you didn’t have to spend it alone. Your friendship with Bucky Barnes, another patient on the unit, brought you a certain level of comfort during your stay. When you are discharged from the hospital shortly thereafter—and Bucky is forced to remain—you promise him you’ll be his pen pal until he gets out, after which, you’ll meet for coffee and catch up.

But when things don’t go quite as well as Bucky had hoped, he takes drastic measures to ensure that you remain the integral part of his life he always envisioned you to be.

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, suicide attempts, and non-con elements. proceed with caution.

(gif is not mine)

chapter two // chapter three // chapter four // chapter five // chapter six

chapter one: losing time

music

🎄DECEMBER🎄 

“So. I got you a little something.”

Bucky smiled at you expectantly, clearly very eager for you to investigate further. You raised your eyebrows at him. It was just so ridiculous. What could he possibly have gotten you, a magic marker from the craft room? A rogue oreo from the kitchen? There weren’t many gifting options to choose from. But then again, maybe he had a creative capacity you were unaware of.

It was only seconds later that you were presented with an origami folded together on the cheapest construction paper known to man.

“Is that…oh, it’s a dog!” you said, carefully picking it up out of his palm.

“A wolf,” he corrected you. “See how it’s howling at the moon?”

That it was.

“That’s actually pretty impressive.”

Bucky looked at you sheepishly. “I can’t exactly take credit for it. I asked MJ to make it for me. I tried to do it myself, but well…”

He motioned towards himself. You didn’t know the specifics of what happened to his left arm, just that there was an accident while he was deployed overseas. He was hesitant to be fit for a prosthetic even years later. He said he had a bad experience with the first one he had tried, that he felt like he hadn’t healed quite well enough to be fitted for another one just yet.

“…you get it.”

You hated that Bucky was so diligent about letting you know what day it was. You already knew what day it was, but you figured if you pretended that you didn’t know it was Christmas Eve, then you wouldn’t feel so sad. So there you sat, side-by-side with your backs pressed up against the radiator in the group room. You were trying to derive as much heat as you could from that ancient radiator, but you knew Bucky was only sitting there for your benefit. It had to have been uncomfortable for him. He was always warm.

He just didn’t want you to feel alone.

“I didn’t get you anything, Buck. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “You can make it up to me one day.”

The gesture was sweet, so sweet that it almost made you tear up. You tried your best to ignore him as he observed you, shifting your focus towards the inflatable Christmas tree in the corner of the room. You were amazed that MJ hadn’t tried to pop it yet. She had been particularly bothered by the “tree” when she discovered it that morning. At first glance, she greeted it with a cheerful “what the fuck is this?”

You glanced up from your sketchbook (which wasn’t really a sketchbook. It was a marble composition notebook that you and Bucky had both been sharing for the last two days to write each other notes and play tic tac toe) and raised your eyebrows. “A tree apparently.”

“No, it’s not,” she said flatly. “Why can’t we have a real tree?”

Bucky sighed. “Isn’t it obvious? They’re afraid we’ll try to hurt ourselves with the glass ornaments or the branches or something. So we get whatever this is.”

“Come on, guys,” Sharon, one of the psychiatric technicians chimed in. “I think it’s cute. Cleaner than a real tree, too.”

“Sharon, seriously?” MJ scoffed. “This is insulting.”

At first, you thought the hot mess of a “tree” was actually kind of funny. But looking at it now—cheap and partially deflated with stickers and paper ornaments plastered all over it—you would have to agree with MJ. This was a downright shameful excuse for a Christmas tree.

All of it was shameful, really. Here you were, scratching away in your notebook with yet another dull pencil, trying as hard as you could to distract yourself from yet another painful wave of emotions. The “tree,” the “sketchbook,” the pencil. They all looked almost about as pathetic as you felt.

Almost.

Bucky was eyeing you carefully, just as he always did. You had a few friends in the past that were pretty empathetic. Bucky, though…

He was on a whole different level.

He was particularly perceptive when it came to picking up on others’ emotions, namely yours. When you first arrived on the unit, you felt an instant kinship with him. You weren’t sure what he was like with people on the outside, but any time you were together, you felt like the only person in the room. It was equal parts comforting and unnerving. He shone a light on things you weren’t willing to say, things most people preferred to ignore. You wondered if that sense of intuition had anything to do with his military training, with his PTSD. It had to have been. Or maybe he was just always like that and those things amplified what was already there. You would never know for sure.

Sharon sat on the bench nearest to the door, fully absorbed in her sudoku book. You turned to look out the window, slowly clenching and unclenching your fists as you tried to hold back tears. It was snowing outside. Not the ugly kind of snow, either. It looked soft, like it would be easy to shovel or build a snowman with. Was it sad that you would be more than willing to shovel the parking lot just to have an excuse to go outside?

Tomorrow would mark six months since your mother passed away. Half a year. You hadn’t seen or spoken to your mother in half a year. Worse yet, tomorrow was her birthday.

It should’ve been, anyway.

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a sob that clearly startled Bucky. Your voice sounded strange and shallow, and as you continued to cry, you began to breathe faster and faster. It didn’t take long before tears were streaming down your face uncontrollably.

“Hey, hey, no! Come on, don’t do that,” Bucky said, turning to face you. “Hey, come on. Don’t cry.”

You shook your head, raising both hands to cover your face. Your notebook slid to the floor, the pencil rolling across the room until it bumped up against the inflatable tree. The notebook and your new gift fell to your side. You felt resistance against your fingers, like Bucky was trying to pry them away from your eyes, but you kept leaning further and further away from him. You curled yourself up closer into the corner of the wall, pressing your forehead up against the cool glass of the windowpane. Your chest was starting to hurt from the hyperventilation.

Bucky closed in on you, his chest pressed up against your back as he rested his chin in the crook of your neck. He had never been that close to you before.

Shannon immediately perked up. “James, back up right now. Don’t touch her.”

Bucky ignored her, hooking his arm around you and squeezing onto you even tighter. “Shhh. Come on, cheer up. It’s not so bad.”

After a great deal of squirming, he finally managed to pull your hands away from your face. You turned your gaze towards him and he nodded towards the window.

“See, you’ve got the nice view of all the snow out there, you’ve got your new Christmas present, you’ve got your book here.”

“Our book,” you corrected him, your voice thick and pitiful.

“Ah, there she is,” he chuckled. “Our book. And, uh, you’ve got the…you’ve got the tree.”

You let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh. You felt unbearably hot, and Bucky was only making it worse with his warmth. Somehow, though, you didn’t mind. You clung onto him even tighter, a wave of exhaustion rushing over you. You wanted to melt into that exhaustion, into that warmth.

“You’ve got, uh…”

You suddenly felt pressure against your arms, someone’s fingers pressing into them. They were attempting to shake you away from Bucky’s grasp, but he wouldn’t budge.

“James, get off her now!” Sharon yelled.

“Sharon, h-he’s fine,” you stuttered, clutching onto his shirt. You were coughing, struggling to breathe as she yanked on your arms. “Seriously, he’s—”

“No, he’s not. Boundaries, James!” she shouted. “We’ve talked about this! Scott, get in here!"

“Let’s see what else,” Bucky continued, his voice low and soothing in comparison to the yelling reverberating off the walls. “We’ve got Sharon over here, our babysitter.”

Maybe it was the way he was joking around with you, maybe it was his warmth, maybe it was finally getting the chance to experience intimate human contact in such a confined, depressing place. Maybe it was the intention behind it all, a genuine attempt at comforting you. The concentrated effort to get you to stop crying. You weren’t quite sure. But in that moment, you were struck by something you thought had withered and died in you long ago.

The eager and persistent desire to live. To be alive. And not only that.

To be wholly, completely, fully alive.

“And I’m here. You’ve got me. See?” he mumbled. He was so close his lips were almost pressed against your neck. “Nothing to worry about.”

For just a split second, you actually believed him.

It didn’t take long for reality to set back in.

Sharon started violently pulling on Bucky’s arm. At a certain point, he chuckled and rolled his eyes, shifting away from you. Even with one arm, he was still ridiculously strong. He let his limbs go slack and allowed her to pull him up with one quick tug. Her eyes widened, perplexed by his sudden obedience. He rarely, if ever, did what anyone told him to do. You partially wondered if that was why he had been there for so much longer than everyone else.

Staff rushed into the room, followed by a few nosey patients. Once they entered, Bucky raised his hand up in front of his chest defensively, meandering towards the doorway as if nothing had happened. Much to your chagrin, he would probably be monitored more closely when he was around you now. 

They couldn’t stop you from talking to each other, though, could they? 

Right before he was escorted into the hallway, he looked over his shoulder at you and winked.

“Merry Christmas, doll.”

❄️JANUARY❄️

You hadn’t composed a handwritten letter in a very, very long time. You had a penpal when you were growing up, a boy you befriended at summer camp. From what you could recall, it had been a fun experience. You loved the anticipation of waiting to receive another letter, and the rush of excitement you felt when it finally arrived. The writing part was fun, too. You loved the process of filling Peter in on whatever was going on in your life at the time.

You would never forget how sad you were when Peter stopped writing back. You sent him three letters in a row before your mom finally convinced you to give up.

“He probably just moved away and doesn’t remember our address,” was her explanation. “Or maybe it got lost in the mail. He’ll get back to you eventually.”

You were all too happy to accept her version of the truth back then, delusional as it was. Every once in a while you wondered what Peter was up to nowadays. You once even considered looking him up on Facebook or something, but then you realized how psychotic that was and refrained from doing so.

As you stared at the little origami wolf sitting on your dresser, the prospect of writing to Bucky felt a lot less joyous to you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hear from him. You did. It just hurt you to think that he was trapped in a hospital during the most depressing month of the year. It was just so unfair. You had only been there for a few days, and you got to leave before he did. Granted, his situation was much more dire, and perhaps he only had a few more days left before they were going to let him out.

Likely not, though, based on the fact that he asked you to send him letters. That implied that there would be ongoing correspondence between the two of you, meaning he somehow knew that he’d be there for a while. You just wondered for how long. He probably wondered the same.

He was a “repeat offender” in that particular hospital, meaning he wound up there following a suicide attempt more than once. He had been a prisoner of war, and with that came severe PTSD. You would never be able to forget the sound of him screaming in the middle of the night, waking you up out of a dead sleep from several rooms away. Out of everything he endured, all of the symptoms he had been living with on a daily basis, he always said the nightmares were the worst.

“Hey, on the brightside, they let me have the room all to myself this time,” he had said the morning after one particularly rough night.

Bucky had been suffering so much, and for so long. He didn’t deserve to be under anyone’s control anymore. He hadn’t deserved it to begin with. However, you knew that his physical safety took precedence over everything, and if he posed a threat to himself, maybe it was better that he was there—as upsetting as it was.

To get yourself in the spirit of writing, you had purchased a set of multicolored gel pens. You sent three to Bucky and kept three for yourself. Yours red, orange, and yellow, and his green, blue, and purple. You thought he might get a kick out of them. You hoped he would, at least. When you were in a place that was so bleak and void of color, it was the little things that stuck out to you. They were ballpoint pens, not exactly sharp and lethal instruments, so you were hoping the staff wouldn’t intercept them.

You kept your first letter short and sweet, just so he wouldn’t feel any pressure to write you a mile-long response if he was tired or disinterested. You felt awkward and self-centered writing him a three paragraph update on your life, so you ended it with some questions about how he was, what he had been up to. That was what you really wanted to talk about.

As you went to put his name on the envelope, you stopped yourself short.

Bucky 

Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes

You received a reply in less than a week. You were delighted to find that your wish had come true. He had been allowed to keep the pens. Not only that, he had used them to write to you. You thought your decision to give Bucky the cool colors while you kept the warm colors for yourself was an apt one. When you were in the hospital, he was always wearing dark colored sweaters, most of which were black and gray. He told you that when he was first admitted, one of his friends had stopped by and dropped off a bunch of clothes for him to wear. There was one blue sweater he owned that you particularly liked. You weren’t sure why he didn’t wear it more often. 

He looked nice in blue.

Hey dollface,

Sergeant Barnes, huh? And here I thought we were on a first name basis!

How are things on the outside? Miss me yet?

I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate you writing me this letter. Not sure if you’ll think this is pathetic or not (and even if you did, you probably wouldn’t say anything, would you?), but it gives me something to look forward to. I was having a pretty horrible day—and let’s be honest, every day is a horrible day in this place—but when Sharon told me I had mail from you, my mood was instantly lifted. It reminds me of when my pal, Sam wrote to me back when I was in basic training. That feels like a lifetime ago. It kind of was.

God, I feel so old lately. And I’m only getting older. I’m becoming more and more aware of that with every minute I spend here, the fact that I’m losing time. Wasting time. My sisters came to visit me the other day. I haven’t seen them in a while, probably a good year or so. You’ve only ever known me with long hair, but they were shocked when they saw me. They were absolutely relentless about it. It was strangely comforting.

Sometimes I wish I would have met you when I looked the way I used to. Back before all of this happened. Way back, before I was ever deployed. I was a completely different person then.

Although maybe you wouldn’t have liked me so much back then. I was much more sure of myself. Probably too sure of myself. I had a lot to learn. 

You seem to like the person I am now.

I’m not so sure I agree.

I’m slowly but surely getting better. At least that’s what everybody is saying. I’m feeling a bit calmer, less jumpy. Even Dr. Banner can see it. I think the meds are working. They have to be at this point, right? The nightmares are still there, of course. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever stop having those.

Oh, before I forget - MJ won’t admit it, but I can tell that she misses having you around. She made a little sketch of everyone on the unit the other day, and she included you in it. I might miss you a little bit, too.

Come visit me sometime, won’t you?

James

P.S. - Ever seen a decorated soldier write a letter in purple gel pen before? If I could roll my eyes in writing, I would.

Only for you.

-

this is a reupload of a story i wrote over a year ago. it's good to be back on this hellsite lol. thank you for reading 💌

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Two

Warnings: uncomfortable tension, drinking/alcohol, brief mentions of depression (if you read the context clues it’s there), anxious themes, the boys are yet again being ridiculous.

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Charlotte’s first encounter with Jake is none other than memorable. Battling her internal monologue is how she lives her daily life, so this situation is only letting those voices run wild.

Author’s Note: Early chapter two because I am so so so excited for you to meet Charlotte! She’s been one of the most fun characters to create because she has such a specific personality. I hope you love her xoxo see you on Thursday 🥰

Looks That Kill - Motley Crue “If you don’t get her name, you might not make it back.”

“In 300 feet, turn right,” plays through my car’s speakers as I slowly drive through these cramped streets. All the buildings are covered in red brick, some with vines attached; it’s a quaint little area in the city. 

I pull into a parking space and check the maps on my phone again; okay, it’s only a street over; I can just walk that. Grabbing my bag and the folder I’ve been sent with, I step out and promptly lock my doors. Looking at my reflection in my windows, I gently adjust my pants and ensure my shirt is still tucked in. Leaning in and reapplying my dark red lip, I need to make sure I look professional. 

It’s mid-afternoon and fairly quiet, so all I can hear is the click of my shoes as I walk towards the bar. Well, Tavern, rather.  The sign jutting out from the building, the ocean peaking out just behind it, that’s a beautiful accident, now isn’t it? As I approach, I notice the cobblestone street directly across from it. Which must be a nightmare at 1:30 am. 

I took a deep breath before grabbing the door and mentally prepared for this conversation. Or so I thought. The door chime rings loudly, given only ten people are in the bar. The red glow is intense even though it’s still light out. I can’t help but notice the immense amount of pirate memorabilia on the walls and the cute vintage jukebox in the corner. 

As I take it in, I hear the chatter from the patrons sitting at the bar slowly increase in volume. I look over to see a petite man with a curly head of hair laughing loudly at the girl he’s sat next to. Quickly startled out of my focus by a tall, slender gentleman. 

“You look lost,” he quietly says, a completely different vibe from the rest of this place, taking me aback, “Do you need something?” 

“Uh, yes, actually,” I stammer a bit, not expecting someone to come out of thin air like that, “I’m actually here because some paperwork wasn’t completed when the bar opened.” 

“Oh!” his eyes go wide, “he will be the one you want to talk to, darling,” he says rather quickly, pointing towards the bar.

“Could I speak with Mr. Kiszka?” I ask, attempting to sound as confident as I can.

Suddenly, the two sat at the bar looked over to me, with the one behind the bar turning to me before, in unison, they asked, “Which one?” The long-haired ‘girl’ turned to reveal that I was, in fact, very wrong. How many long-haired men are in this bar right now? Jesus Christ. 

I looked into the folder, and seeing his name at the top, I thought, “Um, Jacob Kiszka, I’m sorry.” 

They both point at the one behind the bar, with his hair tied into a low bun, shirt halfway open, and towel tossed over his shoulder. He’s definitely not who I expected to run into here; I figured I would be dealing with a larger, burly sailor-type man who just quit working at the shipyard. 

“What do you need from me, dear?” his voice soft and raspy, which continued to throw me off. 

“Well, I’m sorry to do this to you randomly, Mr. Kiszka,” I start, with him quickly interjecting. 

“Mr. Kiszka is our father. Please call me Jake,” the three of them giggling at his comment. Are they all brothers? I mean, I guess they do look similar the harder I look at them.. Unimportant.

He extends his hand over the bar, and I quickly shift everything into the other arm to meet his. 

“Charlotte Rhodes,” I tell him, trying to focus on my grasp being firm on his hand. 

“Well, Jacob, unfortunately, you did not finish filling out some of this paperwork when you opened the bar officially,” I tell him, watching his smile falter a bit. This is the part I hate.

“I’ve been sent here to tell you what is needed from you. It shouldn’t take too long to get situated.” I start flipping through the paperwork, looking for the pages that he needs. 

“Jesus, Jake,” the long-haired one pipes up, “Paperwork’s the only thing fucking you right now, huh?” followed by the most accurate description of a “ha ha ha” laugh I’ve ever heard. 

“SAM,” the petite curly-headed one interjects, his eyes widening. “Not the time.” 

The one who I’ve now learned is Sam mutters, “Tough crowd,” under his breath. 

I inhale deeply, letting out a “Riiiiiiight” on the exhale. I grab a blank piece of paper from the folder, set it in front of myself, and scribble down little things to not forget. ‘Long hair, facial hair, taller = Sam.’ 

As I’m informing him, I watch a young woman waltz behind the bar, starting to wipe down wine glasses and put them away. She is minding her own business, but nonetheless, she’s behind the bar. 

“Um,” I pause, “Who is that?” I quietly ask, pointing at her subtly. 

I swear I watch the color in his face drain out like a cartoon. Oh no, he hasn’t filed paperwork for her either. Well, that’s karma for you! 

“I just hired her,” the subtle panic lacing his voice, “Uh, I just haven’t had time to, um,” he keeps stumbling over his words. One of his hands finds its place on the back of his neck, giving away that he’s getting overwhelmed. 

I don’t know what comes over me; I open the folder, pull out a packet of stapled paperwork, and flip through it. 

“According to your payroll, Joshua M Kiszka and Daniel R Wagner are the only two employees currently.” Noticing the handful of hired and terminated employees below them and choosing not to bring them up. 

“Only I call-” Sam speaks up, locking eyes with the girl behind the bar, “WE call him Daniel.” 

“Unfortunately, ‘Daniel’ is the only name I was provided,” I know my confusion is apparent on my face. What is going on here? He’s defending Daniel’s name but also grouping this girl into it.. Are they..? 

“The rest of us call him Dan or Danny,” the small one informs me. 

‘Don’t use Daniel, or Sam gets emotional.’ 

“I really don’t mind either way-” Daniel starts to speak, quickly interrupted by Sam. 

“No! That’s my- our name for you!” 

I feel a slight breeze as a slender, brown-haired girl swiftly passes me, walking directly up to Sam and grabbing his arm. 

She looked at me, her face twisted into an uncomfortable expression, and said, “I’m SO sorry about him.” Then she glanced at Jacob and said, “Good luck, Jake.” 

She tugged on his arm, and he stood up. Much taller than I was expecting, he grabbed his drink before walking away. 

“But Bird, she called him Daniel!”

“I’m very sorry, but can’t you see the professional pants she’s wearing? She’s IMPORTANT, Sam!”

“Why would I look at her pants?” 

“Just leave them alone!”

I quickly shake my head, trying to remember where I was in the original conversation before things got… weird. 

“Anyway,” I start, “You only have the two boys and yourself as employees, so if she is also bartending, you need to get her paperwork filled out. Otherwise, then you’re also violating payroll.” I’m watching him process everything I’ve told him, his eyes finally looking to meet mine. I can see the anxiety on his face. His eyes look so sad. 

“Um,” I turn to the small man beside me, “Do you mind giving us a minute?” 

“Absolutely. I’m Josh, by the way,” he reaches his hand out to shake mine, 

“Nice to meet you, Josh. I’m Charlotte.” I firmly shake his hand before he prances away to the booth where Sam, the girl who stole him away, and someone else is sitting. 

“I’m sorry about them, or well, all of this?” Jacob finally said, “I definitely didn’t realize that I hadn’t finished things. I double-checked even before submitting it. I really had no idea. This is the first business I’ve ever run, and I’m doing it alone, basically.” His voice is still riddled with panic, and it sounds like he’s trying to make sense of it in his head. 

I pull out a barstool, set the folder on the bar, and make myself comfortable in the seat. Trying to make myself seem less intimidating has always been funny to me, being a more petite girl. 

“I know you’re working, but the least I can do is offer you a drink,” he says, grabbing a glass from behind him and gently shaking it to get my approval.

“Well, thank you. Whatever is easiest for you, I appreciate it.” I start looking through the folder for what I need, realizing I don’t have everything. I can just email it to him. He seems nervous. I’m sure he’ll panic to get everything in order.  

“Wine? Beer?” 

“Actually, if you have bourbon, that would be fine.” 

I watch his eyes go from sad to almost excited. His emotions are evident on his face right now. The corners of his mouth slowly turn into a little smirk, letting out a laugh of disbelief. 

“That’s my kinda girl,” he says, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelf. 

Is it warm in here? Did he just- You’re working, Charlotte, get a grip. 

He sets the glass of amber liquid in front of me, still smiling to himself. 

“Okay, so is there anything else I messed up?” 

“Not to make things worse, but is she certified?” 

His eyes shut as his head drops back; I see his chest rise slowly and then fall, “Oh, I’m sure she isn’t.” 

“Okay, um, so that’s not as important. Let’s just get you situated with this stuff first?” Why are we being nicer to him? He’s clearly behind on everything; just let him have it.  

“Yeah, whatever I need to do. I really am sorry I didn’t do this before.” 

I’m literally ruining this guy’s entire day. Which is his fault. Well, yes, but he feels so bad about it. I’m more used to having owners storm off, not talk to me, or the opposite, yell directly into my face about it. Also, to be fair, I’m not used to bar owners being close in age to me. I’m definitely more accustomed to older gentlemen who would rather risk tax evasion than get their employees on an actual payroll. 

“It’s okay, Jacob,” I look back at him, setting the papers on the bar for him, “Honestly.” 

His eyes look back and forth between mine like he’s trying to decide if I’m lying. The only thing I’d be lying about is that he is kind of cute. Charlotte, you’re here to do your job and leave. Yes,  but he’s been very receptive and isn’t trying to degrade me for doing my job. Plus, his smile is pretty. 

‘Nice smile’

I take a sip of my drink and then surprise myself. 

“How about I leave all of this with you and come back in a few days to grab it? I’ll be in town for a little bit, and I don’t want to overwhelm you more than I already have.” Okay Charlotte? 

“That would be perfect,” he breathes a sigh of relief, “I can absolutely get everything sorted out. Thank you so much.” His voice is back to a more stable sound, and the anxiety seemingly has subsided. 

The door chime sounds off, causing him to glance over as a handful of people come in. I grab my phone from my bag, tapping the screen to reveal 6:07 p.m. Ah, everybody’s out of work. I watch as he looks back at the girl behind the bar, back at the customers, and then at me. 

“Mel,” he addresses her. Can you just find out what they want, and I’ll take care of it?” She salutes as she drops what she’s doing, mumbling, “Yes, Sir,” as she passes him. His eyes roll slightly at the comment, turning back to me. “I can have Josh clock in if you need me still.”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just going to finish doing some work, and this,” I tap my glass lightly, letting a small smile slip through. His face softens a bit at the gesture. 

“Okay, well, please just stop me if you need anything.” 

I scroll through my emails, continuing to make little notes for myself. This bar has been interesting so far, but, the longer I sit here, the more things continue to happen. I’ve just been trying to take in everything while I’m here. Places like this are few and far between. 

I look up from my phone to see Jacob fiddling with his hair, pulling the hair tie out slowly and sliding it down onto his wrist. He ran his fingers through his ends to loosely comb it out and then wrapped it back up into another little bun. His hair is so long? Also, it’s fun to watch a man pull out his baby hair. I didn’t think they knew about that.  

He flips the sink on, rolling his sleeves up slightly so they sit just above his elbows. I don’t mean to stare at him while he’s doing menial things, but something is holding my attention while he washes his hands that I can’t figure out.  

I try to focus on anything else, turning to see Josh walking up to Daniel with his hand held out. I can’t make out what they’re saying to each other, but Daniel grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles quickly, releasing Josh back into the chaos of the bar. Wait- so.. Who is actually with Daniel? 

A notification pops up on my phone, and it’s an email from my boss. 

‘Charlotte,

Again, I’m sorry to hear that you’re going to be out for a few days. How much time off do you want again? I know we just talked about this. Anyway, I hope everything goes smoothly with the Caravel Tavern. It’s a new business, so it would be a shame to see it go under quickly. I know you’ll give them hell, though.’

It’s a bit disheartening to see that the entire reason I was even coming to Portland has been dismissed, but I guess that’s just business for you. Not that I was necessarily excited to be here for a few days and not work, but at least be mindful of the reason. I offered to stop by to take care of this since I would be in the area, and maybe that should have been my sign that he didn’t care about whatever else I would be doing. 

“You okay over there, Red?” his small, raspy voice somehow cut through the chatter of the bar. I look up to find him opening a beer for someone and setting it on their napkin, his smile fully displayed for them. 

Taking a little sip of my drink, slowly becoming water with a hint of bourbon, I nod once. 

“You really run a tight ship around here, huh?” I say as he walks back over to me. Something in that moment shifts; I don’t know what it is. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, like the subtle compliment caught him truly off guard. I can’t read what emotion he’s feeling, but his eyes are conveying something different. 

“Uh, I do my best,” he finally choked out, “I probably drive them all crazy, but we’re still afloat, so something must be working.” 

Mel laughs as she’s drying glasses behind him, “You’re definitely something.” 

He slowly blinks with a tight smile at her comment, with a quick shake of his head. I lift my glass to my lips, taking the last bearable sip before it’s quite literally just water. 

“I think I’m going to head out,” I tell him, gathering the paperwork he needs, “I’ll leave this with you; if you can please try to get it done in the next couple of days, that would be great.” He just nods at my request. 

“Also, I didn’t have the physical paperwork on me to get Mel on your payroll but I can email the forms to you if that works?” 

“I will do whatever is easiest.” 

I’m still not used to someone cooperating as easily as he has. I came in too prepared for him to be an ass about everything, on top of surprising him with more issues. I’m grateful he isn’t making this more complicated than it needs to be. 

I fold the blank sheet, hide my notes about his brothers, and slide them to him with a pen.

“Here, can you write down your email and phone number for me?” I ask quietly.

“Trying to get my number already? We just met.” He smirks at me as I cringe internally. 

I just stare at him for a second too long, not able to come up with any sort of response to that. 

The silence is deafening between us as his cheeks flush, his eyes darting down to the paper. He swiftly grabs the pen, scribbling down his information for me, writing his name above them, ‘Jake,’ as if I would forget. 

He clears his throat before speaking, “Well, I need to, uh, go work on this, so,” his embarrassment slowly taking him over, “Drive safe, and I will see you, um, soon. Sorry about.. Everything today?” 

I choke back the laugh threatening to escape me, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than he’s made himself. But it was kind of cute watching him shove his foot in his mouth.  I tuck the paper into my bag, grabbing my things as I stand up from the barstool. 

“Oh,” I speak up, “how much do I owe you?” tapping the rim of my glass. 

He leans over, grabbing the glass with a slight smile on his flushed face, “I think you earned it; it’s on me.” 

“Well, thank you. Have a good night, Jacob. I’ll see you in a few days.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I hadn’t been to our lake house in a while—years, probably. We used to spend weeks at a time visiting the lake and spending time on the water. As I got older, so did my parents, we slowly stopped frequenting, but they would never get rid of it. I’ve spent countless hours convincing them to rent it out as an Airbnb, but they refuse. 

The roads are a little daunting at night, with so many sharp turns and practically no street lights. I suppose I should be used to living so far north, but I know that area well. I’ve never really had to drive myself around here; I was always in the backseat for this drive.

Pulling into our dirt driveway, there she is. Our sweet little house absolutely has seen better days, but that’s okay. It feels enough like home to make the next couple of days bearable.  I had been dreading this week, but even seeing the outside, in the dark no less, has made me feel a bit of relief. 

Walking through the mud room and into our kitchen, it smells like a basement. It’s apparent that none of us have visited in a while, and to be fair, it’s October at this point. It’s probably for the best that I’m here for a few days so I can clean things up, and then maybe, next time my parents come, it won’t seem as… musty. It will also distract me from my own brain. 

We do tend to get the better of you. Speak for yourself.

I toss my bags onto my old bed, unable to remember the last time I slept there. I finally sit, letting out a long sigh. Closing my eyes, I let my head drop back, letting the muscles stretch for a moment.  The sadness building up and threatening to escape, I grab my laptop from my bag; I need to be doing something. 

‘Hi,

Sorry for the late response. I stopped by the bar today. They had a lot going on, so I left the paperwork with him to fill out, and I’ll stop back there to grab it before coming home. He seemed eager to get everything done; he’s much younger than I think either of us anticipated. 

As for days off, I think at least this week, and then I’ll be good to go.’ 

I’m not particularly good at giving myself days off, but I love my job, so why would I not work? Also, I rarely have to really connect with people, so it makes it easier to just zone out and get my work done. It’s not often that we have to hound people for their paperwork, and even when we do, it’s usually for the new employees to do. It builds character, I guess. Having grown adults scream at you definitely gives you thick skin. 

Reaching down, I pull the folded paper out of my bag. Typing his email into the To: bar, attaching the documents he needs. 

‘Thank you for being so flexible about this. - Charlotte’ 

I added a subject line, ‘New Employee Payroll Forms’, and double-checked that everything was there. I hit send. Perfect, everything is done. 

Charlotte: Hi Jacob, sorry for the late text- I just sent over those forms to your email. If you can get those done ASAP, that would be wonderful. If you need assistance with anything, feel free to reach out. - Charlotte. 

Feel free to reach out? Why are you offering the opportunity for him to text you? It’s literally the least we can do; you saw how overwhelmed he was. 

I can see the way his face drained of color when I clocked Mel behind the bar. The way he stumbled over his words, his hand finding comfort on the back of his neck, probably to prevent from fidgeting endlessly. He definitely didn’t realize he had messed up. I don’t know why you feel bad, this happens to you all the time. 

I set my laptop on my nightstand and plug in my phone. Everything is done, so now I can just do what I need to. I take the time to make something small to eat and shower, killing just enough time and relaxing enough to where I’m about to sleep. I crawl into bed, pulling my hair up into a bun on the top of my head before snuggling in. 

I reach out to grab my phone and set an alarm for tomorrow morning. I opened my messages just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything or forgotten to reply to anybody. 

Unknown Number: oh don’t apologize. Thank you for being patient with me, i really appreciate it.

I tap on the number at the top, saving the number, ‘Jacob’. I lock my phone, placing it back on my nightstand. Staring up at the ceiling, I attempt to fall asleep. Replaying thoughts of her in my mind, I feel a slight prick in my eyes. Finally, I succumbed to the feeling. I’m not ready.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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The Professor | Chapter 7

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synopsis: You meet Bradley, who just so happens to be Jake's friend, while hiding from Jake. Jake decides to wave the white flag in the gift of Orange Roses.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, mentions of sex, Jake calls College girl a slut, mentions of parental death, feelings.

The blank doc that sat on your computer screen was mocking you. It was ridiculing you and your stupid brain for thinking it was ever a good idea to start sleeping with your professor. It was making fun of the fact that you couldn’t put a single thought towards this essay assignment that was due, the only thing running in your mind was the harsh words Jake had spoken to you. You groaned and pushed your laptop away, and drank down the whiskey that was sitting in front of you. 

“Bad day?” The bartender asked, as he refilled your glass. 

“Bad fucking semester,” You mumbled and took a sip of the brown liquid. 

“What’s your major?” 

“English,” You said and he nodded. He was rather cute, curly brown hair, honey brown eyes and a mustache on his face. His eyes looked you up and down, and a sudden surge of confidence filled your body. You sat up a bit in your seat, and closed your laptop, “Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Bradley but everyone calls me Rooster,” He said and held his hand out to you, “Care to tell me why you’re sitting in my bar at 10 o’clock at night, doing homework on a monday drinking whiskey? Wait. . . let me guess. . . boy problems?” 

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner,” You smiled and raised your glass towards him. Bradley raised his arms in celebration which caused you to giggle.

“So, out with it. Tell Doctor Bradley what brings you in today.” 

You chuckled again, and crossed your arms over your chest, “I read the situation wrong, and he made fun of me for it, now we aren’t talking.” 

“What a dickhead,” Bradley said, and poured himself a drink, and then placed a glass of water in front of you. You nodded in thanks and took a sip, “Do you think it scared him? And that’s why he laughed?” 

“I really don’t know,” You simply shrugged. And it was the truth, you really didn’t know what had happened in that hour or so you were asleep. The only conversation you have had with Jake since that night was strictly school related, and even then, it was short, strained answers. 

“Well, I think he’s an absolute idiot for that,” Bradley leaned over the bar, getting closer to you. You licked your lips and looked at him. His eyes were a perfect mix of light and dark brown, the swirls in his orbs pulling you in closer, “I’m done in five. . . I can take you home?” 

“I’d like that,” You said and Bradley smiled at you. You watched him walk away and go over to another bartender, telling her something. You gathered your laptop and put it in your backpack, and glanced down at your phone. You rolled your eyes seeing a message from Jake. 

‘I need you tonight.’ 

You smirked as your fingers tapped on the characters on the screen: ‘Can’t.’ 

“You’re in luck, I can bounce early,” Bradley said, now on the other side of the bar. He held his arm out for you to take, and you wrapped your hand around his bicep, and walked out of the bar. 

Jake’s green eyes were still locked on the message that you had sent him last night. Just one simple word ‘can’t’. It gave a clear answer, but it was unlike you. Usually, if you couldn’t come over you gave an explanation, never just a one word answer. But he guessed, it was what he deserved after the way he kicked you out the other night. Jake sighed and leaned back in his desk chair, the words he had said sat heavily on his mind. 

After you had left in near tears, Jake retreated to his bathroom, and slammed the door shut. He didn’t even bother to watch to make sure you got to your car safely, or send his ‘text me when you get home’ message like he usually did. Instead, the words that his sister Nancy had said replayed over and over in his mind like a broken record. He had thought when he told them that family time was over, that his mother and sisters had left, but Nancy decided to stay. She poured herself a glass of wine and was waiting in the kitchen for Jake to come down. 

“She’s an energetic little thing isn’t she,” Nancy said, causing Jake to jump. 

“Jesus, Nance, what the hell are you still doing here?” Jake asked. He walked over to the fridge and got himself a bottle of water for you and himself. 

“Just want to talk to my baby brother,” Nancy shrugged. 

“I’m a year younger,” Jake shot back, “And haven’t you said enough tonight.” 

“No, I don’t think I have. Jacob, I am worried about you,” Jake scoffed and Nancy continued, “She’s young, Jake, very young. She doesn’t have what it takes to-” 

“To be what? A future stay at home mom like you?” Jake said and Nancy clenched her jaw, “I’m aware that she’s young.” 

“Then what are you doing with her? Do you love her, Jake?” Jake paused for a moment and looked up at his sister, “Oh my god. . . you do. . . But you told Amelia that she’s just-” 

“I know what I told Amelia and I’m starting to fucking regret it,” Jake ran a hand down his face, “Look, you guys were never supposed to meet her or find out about her. But Mom started talking about Allison and saying how happy she looked when she saw her the other day and I just. . . I didn’t know what to say.” 

“My god, Jake,” Nancy shook her head, “You need to end this with her, now.” 

“What?” Jake questioned, “I just told you I love her and-” 

“You don’t love her, Jacob,” Nancy laughed, “You lust for her. There’s a difference. She’s too young for you to love. Too immature. You’re probably another name on a list for her. Do you think you’re the only man that she lies next to? I mean come on. . . Jake, you’re not dumb. Girls like her. . . with parental issues. . . they will look for anyone who has money to take care of them. It would be smart for you if you-” 

“Get out.” Jake snapped, “Get the fuck out of my house! Or so help me God, Nancy, I’ll fucking do it myself.” 

Nancy gapped at her younger brother, but had seen the ugly side of him before and knew how he could be when he was angry. She nodded, and finished her wine before getting up from her chair. She grabbed her purse and brushed past Jake. 

“But Jacob. . . you know I’m right about her,” Nancy said as she opened the door, “You may say you love her. . . but it’s not going to end well for either one of you.” 

Jake clenched his jaw as he threw his phone across the room, tired of looking at that one worded message from you. He hated that Nancy’s words also had an effect on him. He knew that he had never told you that you couldn’t go out and see other guys, but he didn’t think you were. But he knew that it was probably dumb of him to think that you were exclusively his. That he was the only man you were touching, kissing, making love with. But Nancy was right, you were young, and beautiful, and energetic and also immature. You needed someone who was going to be able to match that. Not someone like him, who was probably going to work until he had a heart attack from yelling about Jane Austen. 

With a sigh, Jake got up from his desk, and walked over to where his phone lay on the ground. Surprisingly the screen wasn’t cracked, but there was a snapchat message from Rooster. Jake hated the app, he thought it was dumb. The only reason he had it was because Nancy, Liz and Kathelene liked to send snaps of their kids. And occasionally you would send him a snap throughout the day as well. Jake clicked on the message from Rooster and immediately regretted it. 

He would recognize that thin cursive tattoo anywhere.

The tension in the office was thick, you could cut it with a knife. You sat on the far end, Jake on the other. He had gotten a desk delivered to the room so you had somewhere to properly sit instead of on the leather couch. You had even gone as far as to decorate it, adding some pictures of your friends, your parents, and even a small succulent. It was the first time since the night of meeting his mother that the two of you had sat in a room by yourselves. You had been to lecture, and Jake had tried to talk to you, but you were ignoring him, still angry about what he had done. 

Jake, on the other hand, was thinking of different ways to try and start a conversation with you. The biggest thing he wanted to ask was what you had done with Bradley. The picture of your bareback had been etched into his eyelids since he had seen it. And the snaps of you didn’t stop there, he had gotten another one from Bradley the other morning, and it was of you putting on your shoes by his front door. Jake knew that he had no right to be mad, that there wasn’t any possible way that you knew that Bradley was his friend, but he still didn’t like the fact that you had slept with him. 

You were typing away at your computer when your phone went off, a loud ding cutting through the tense air. Jake looked over at you, watching as you cracked a smile at the message and typed something back. You put your phone down for a second, only for it to go off again. And again you picked it up, read it and smiled, putting it back down and another ding. 

“Can you put your phone on silent?” Jake finally said, breaking the tension. 

“No,” You answered back, right as your phone went off yet again. 

“It’s fucking distracting.” 

“Okay.” 

Jake groaned, “Are you going to be this fucking childish the whole time?” You didn’t say anything, which made Jake’s blood pressure rise. He swore he was going to be diagnosed with hypertension sometime soon, “I’m fucking talking to you!” 

“No, you are yelling at me,” You said, “Talk to me like an adult, and I might answer.” 

“God,” Jake rolled his eyes and ran a hand down his face. 

The silence filled the room once again as you both returned to your projects before your phone went off. Jake couldn’t stand it, standing up and charging over to your desk, snatching the phone off before you could grab it. 

“Give it back,” You demanded. Jake’s green eyes took in the sight of the message notifications from Rooster on your lockscreen. He clenched his jaw and handed your phone back, “You had no right to-” 

“You’re fucking my best friend.” 

“What the hell did you just say to me?” 

“Rooster, the man you’re slutting it up with via text, is my best friend.” 

“I’m not fucking him,” You shook your head, “And it’s none of your fucking business if I am! We aren’t dating, we aren’t together. I can fuck and see and date whoever the hell I want to fuck or see or date.” 

“The hell you fucking can!” Jake yelled. 

“And why not?” You took a step forward, standing toe to toe with him. He looked down at you, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Jake grabbed your waist, pulling you in and smashing his lips to yours. You pushed him away, and slapped him. 

“What the fuck?” He asked, holding his red cheek. 

“No, you what the fuck!” You yelled, “You don’t get to kiss me after the shit that you fucking pulled the other night.” 

“You fucked my best-” 

“I didn’t fuck him!” You screamed. Your chest heaved in anger as you started to pace the floor in front of your desk, “If you must fucking know, I didn’t fuck Bradley, okay, I literally slept next to him. I was at the bar, and he took me home and he invited me in for a drink. We watched a movie and fell asleep next to him.” 

“You slept next to him?” 

“Yes.” Jake suddenly felt like a dick, his anger somewhat subsiding, “And it shouldn’t fucking matter what I do. I am not yours.” 

“I care about you.” 

“But do you?” You asked. Jake felt like he had gotten punched in the gut by your words. Of course Jake cared for you, he considered you as a friend. He knew Bradley, and knew that you could do better than Bradley. Bradley didn’t have any big goals in life, other than running a bar. You had dreams, ambitions, things you wanted to see and do. 

“I care about you, Y/N, and I want what's best for you.” 

“Then you should be okay with me seeing Bradley.” Jake looked away from you, “Bradley is nice, and I want to get to know him.” 

Jake knew that he should be okay with you wanting to get to know Bradley, but something deep within him was not okay with it. He knew that the words that left his mouth were harsh and he regretted them, but he didn’t know what else to say. He was too scared of his own feelings and wanted to push them away, to completely forget about the burning in his chest. 

“My sister was right. . . You are just a slut with daddy issues.” 

Jake watched as your face fell, and your eyes filled with tears. He wanted to move, to grab you and hold you and apologize profusely. But instead, he watched as you quickly grabbed your stuff. You brushed past him, purposely hitting your shoulder against his. 

“Call me when you decide to stop acting like a little bitch.” 

— — — 

The day you met Lucy was one of those memories you looked back on often. You had done a random roommate assignment for your freshman year. Zeke had advised you to live in the dorms your first year, so you could meet some new friends. He loved you like a sister, and was ready to help you and watch out for you as you navigate your first year on your own, but he also wanted to see you prosper and meet new people. You hadn’t met Lucy prior to moving in, but when you knocked on your door, and a girl with bright red hair opened it, you knew right away you were going to be best friends. 

Lucy knew everything about you, she could tell your mood from a mile away. So when you came home from class one day and went straight to your room, she knew something was wrong. She had let you have the night to yourself, letting you wallow in your sadness and listen to Taylor Swift at max volume. She gave you your space, making sure to keep an eye on you waiting for the moment when you needed her. Lucy was also privy to the emotional date that was fastly approaching.

You and Lucy didn’t talk about your parents’ deaths. It wasn’t necessarily a topic that came up in passing conversations. Lucy only knew because you had a panic attack during a bonfire one night freshman year. Zeke had been there and was able to help you through it, while Lucy watched with tears in her eyes. Zeke had told Lucy that night about the fire that claimed your parents' lives. 

Currently, Lucy and Zeke were sitting on the couch, watching an episode of The Good Doctor, partially paying attention to the laughter and conversation that was flooding in from the kitchen. It was the third night in a row that you had Rooster over. Lucy didn’t mind it at first, kind of happy that your sour mood had started to improve. You didn’t tell her or Zeke what had transpired the night of Jake’s dinner fiasco, nor did you tell them about the fight that went down between him and you in his office. But Lucy also knew this mode of destruction. You got this way every single year. 

“Luce? Can you get that?!” You called out as the doorbell rang. 

“Yeah!” Lucy said, getting off the couch and walking towards the door. Zeke smirked and slapped her ass as she walked by, “Hey!” She scolded and Zeke held his hands up in defense. 

Your laughter rang out again as Lucy opened the door. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at the bouquet of orange roses sitting on the doorstep with a card attached. Kneeling down, Lucy reached for the card which had your name scrawled across it. On the back of the card in fancy print were the initials ‘J. T. S’ and Lucy knew exactly who the flowers were from. She sighed, picking up the bouquet. 

“Orange Roses,” Zeke said, standing up from the couch. 

“Yep,” Lucy nodded and walked towards the kitchen, Zeke trailing behind her. They were met with the sight of Rooster standing in between your legs as you sat on the counter, kissing you. Lucy cleared her throat and Rooster pulled away from you. 

“Flowers,” Lucy said, holding them up, “Orange Roses.” 

“From who?” You asked. 

“Secret admirer,” Zeke answered, as Lucy set them down on the counter near you. Your eyes locked on the bouquet and like always, Zeke knew what you were thinking, “Bradley, I uh. . . I think you should go.” 

Bradley looked between you, Lucy and Zeke, before nodding. He leaned up and kissed your cheek, “I’ll call you tomorrow,” You nodded and Rooster squeezed your thigh. He grabbed his coat, swinging it over his shoulder as he walked past Lucy and Zeke, saying goodbye to them. Once the front door closed, Lucy spoke up. 

“I don’t shame you, I really don’t,” Lucy started, “But whatever you are doing, you need to figure it out, cause the only person that’s going to get hurt is you. I’m not going to force you to tell me what happened between you and professor Seresin, but it’s not good to bottle it up. Especially with what’s coming up.” 

“Do you think I’m fucked up? From losing my parents?” 

“Did he fucking tell you that?” Zeke demanded, getting heated. 

“No!” You exclaimed, “He didn’t say anything. . . his sisters did though.” You hopped off the counter and grabbed the bouquet, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Lucy sighed in defeat as you walked out of the kitchen, your footsteps retreating down the hall. Zeke walked over to his girlfriend, and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against his chest and Zeke placed a kiss on the top of her head. 

You were starting to think you had lost brain cells as you were sitting in your car outside of Jake’s house. Actually, no, you knew that you had lost some brain cells because of the fact that you were sitting outside of Jake’s house. But you couldn’t sleep, not with the large bouquet of Orange Roses sitting on your desk. You didn’t even read the card that came with it, you weren’t sure if you could bring yourself to do it. You had been sitting in your car on the street for nearly twenty minutes, talking yourself up for going up to the door. 

“Alright, don’t be a bitch,” You took a deep breath, and opened your car door. You had prepared your speech on the way over, to thank him for the flowers and to make him actually talk to you. You were tired of the ignoring game between the two of you. It was like walking on glass around each other. You hadn’t even crossed over the sidewalk yet when the front door opened. You froze in your spot as Jake stood there, looking at you. 

“Why are you-” 

“Thank you,” You said, “For the roses.” 

Jake nodded his head slowly, “Enthusiasm and Energy. You said in one of your papers that your mother only planted and kept orange roses around for that reason.” You smiled and looked down at your feet. It was silent as you stood on the sidewalk. Jake closed the door and stepped out on the front porch. It was dark, except for the warm glow of the street lights, “My mother also likes orange roses.” 

“Smart woman,” You nodded, “I uh. . . I should be going.” 

“Or. . . , you could come in,” Jake offered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “Only if you want to.” 

You thought about just turning around and going home. It was probably what you should’ve done. But instead, you walked towards Jake, his green eyes watching you the whole time. Jake held his hand out to you, and you took it, interlacing your fingers as he opened the door. The two of you walked up the stairs in silence, Jake’s hand never leaving yours. He pushed the bedroom door open, and you took in the sight of the orange roses sitting on his bedside table. It made your heart flutter as he let go of your hand, shutting the door softly. 

“Got some for yourself?” You asked. 

“I did,” Jake walked over to you, and wrapped his arms around your middle. You tilted your head, giving him access to your neck as he kissed your skin. Your knees buckled as he kissed the spot behind your ear, “I needed some color in here. . . something energetic.” 

You turned around in his arms and wrapped your own around his neck and brought him in for a kiss. Jake walked the two of you backward, until your knees hit the bed. He gently laid your body down on the mattress, caressing your skin. It felt like deja vu, his gently yet rough hands on your body as he hiked your leg over his hip, and grinded his already hard length into your pelvis. 

Every touch he bestowed on your body was carefully executed, just how it was a few nights ago. Jake took his time as he plowed into you, slow thrusts that hit all the right angles. The sounds you made were like an angel’s chorus, as sinful words dripped from his lips. He held you close, as if he was scared you’d disappear. He came deep inside of you, you could feel the hot release coating your womb. Jake rolled off of you, laying next to you breathless. 

The second you felt your heartbeat start to stabilize, you rolled over, only for a hand to be wrapped around your wrist. 

“I’m finding-“ 

“Stay,” Jake said, and you furrowed his eyebrows, “Hall pass. You got one, only fair that I get one.” 

You didn’t say anything, as you laid back down beside him, and let his strong arms pull you into his embrace.

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[teaberrii]

Chapter 25: Brothers

You've been Cupid for as long as you can remember. You've brought countless soulmates together, yet you've never found love.

When you're assigned to bring two childhood friends back together, it should be simple until you unexpectedly catch feelings for the mysterious and cold Ph.D. student, Dan Heng, the man with a soulmate… the man with answers to your past.

Dan Heng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Before Young’s execution

“Magic?” your mother asked. “Why are you getting yourself involved with that?”

It was late, and you never expected to be caught by your mother on your way back to your room. You obviously weren’t going to tell her the truth that you were with Young. So, you decided to tell her something that she might like to hear but was also partly the truth: you were learning about magic.

“Because I want to?” You didn’t know how to answer that question. 

Your mother’s upset and disappointed look had you confused. Shouldn’t she be proud or happy that you were learning about what was happening with the world?

“Stop getting involved in things you shouldn't be."

You frowned. Then, before you could stop yourself, you swiftly said, “Is it because you think magic is dangerous? Or, is it because you think it’s something that only men should do?”

She said your name as if you were a child. “Magic has consequences.”

“Consequences means responsibility. I don’t want my future to be just an accessory.”

Your mother’s gaze hardened. “You—”

Then, you turned and left the room.

You were walking so fast that you didn’t see a young man come around the corner. You gasped. When you looked up, his eyes were as wide as yours. You heard your mother call your name. The man looked at you, and you quickly said, “Don’t say a word.”

Caelus had heard about you from Jing Yuan, the man he had formed an unexpected friendship. He described you as a princess with an “un-princess-like personality.” And when Caelus asked if Jing Yuan was ridiculing you, Jing Yuan said that it was a compliment, which sparked Caelus's curiosity. He never found an opportunity to approach you... until now.

You were about to leave when your mother found you. You were about to speak when Caelus said, “Do you mind if I borrow her?”

“What could you possibly want with my daughter?”

You and Caelus glanced at each other. “Jing Yuan is looking for her.”

"Is he?" Caelus nodded. Was your mother really going to believe a blatant lie? Well, she never failed to surprise you. She looked away and exhaled softly as if letting something slide. “...Very well.”

When your mother was out of sight, Caelus extended his hand. “My name's Caelus. It’s an honour, princess.”

"Caelus?" Then, it hit you. "The delivery boy?" He nodded as you shook his hand and introduced yourself . “‘I’d rather you call me by my name.” Eventually, you and Caelus began walking toward the garden together. “I've heard things about you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“If you like being called cute and diligent by middle-aged women, then… yeah, good things.”

“The maids.”

“They talk. A lot.” You glanced at him. “So… Why’d you take this job?”

"I’ve always been curious about the palace,” he said, not looking at you. “My mother was here.”

“Your mother? Who?”

“...She’s gone now.”

Your expression turned sympathetic. “Oh… I’m so sorry.”

“She knew your father,” Caelus said, slowly looking at you. “Did you know?”

"Then, he must've recognized you."

"I'm afraid he didn't." Caelus was hoping he could fish something out of you. Or, maybe gauge your responses to see how much you really knew. But so far, it seemed like you were completely in the dark, Then, he cleared his throat. “Let’s stop talking about depressing things. Why did your mother look so angry?”

“Magic.”

“Magic?”

“I’ve been learning about magic.”

“That’s why she’s angry?”

You nodded.

“...Care to share how much you know?”

You glanced at him. “You're interested in magic?”

“I think it can improve people’s lives if used properly. But, my sister doesn’t want anything to do with it."

“Why's that?"

“...It can make people crazy.”

"Well, she's not wrong."

Caelus looked at you. "How are you learning about it? Through books?”

“I just met you. I’m not going to spill all of my secrets.”

“I guess we’ll have to become friends then.” You raised a brow. Then, he stopped and extended his hand again. “I’m Caelus. Your new friend.”

“Is this how you make friends with people?” you asked with an amused scoff. “You want to know how much I know? Why not share your secrets first?” When Caelus said nothing, you rolled your eyes. “See. They’re called secrets for a reason.”

“But, we’re the same race.”

“...And that matters because…?”

“Aren’t humans supposed to help each other? Our only enemy is the dragons, after all.” Caelus stepped toward you. “...Unless they're the ones you've been learning from.” After a short, tense silence, Caelus smiled. “Sorry. I’m just joking.”

“I still don’t trust you.”

Then, when you began walking away, Caelus ran up to you. " What if I made you a deal?”

Not long after Stelle receives the worrying call, everyone ends up at the police station and sees Stelle's father talking with a police officer.

“...Is it possible to track him?” you ask quietly.

You, Lan, Nanook, and Young are standing a short distance from the humans. Pom stands in the middle, wanting to know what’s going on in both worlds.

“If the rabbit can change into a dog, maybe we can," Nanook says. Pom flashes him an unamused look, and Nanook smiles. “Just trying to lighten’ up the situation.”

“Caelus likely has all of his memories back,” Lan says. “The final trigger. It would explain why he disappeared.” He exhales softly. “It’s possible we don’t have to look for him at all.”

"You think he's looking for Cupid?" Nanook asks. "A man on a mission."

"Then, we'll have to find him first."

Everyone but the humans turn to Young.

"I'm just going to ask," Nanook says. "How are you alive?"

It was shortly after Young got the locket back from Pom that he was infusing it with magic. Blood dripped from his hand, but Young didn't flinch as the locket burned into his flesh. 

“What are you doing?”

Young nearly dropped the locket in surprise. He wasn't expecting a visitor. As his mother got closer, her eyes widened, but Young kept his usual calm. "Don't."

His mother didn't listen and grabbed her son's wrist, making Young drop the locket. The pendant landed on the floor with a soft thud. 

"You have no reason to be toying around with this kind of magic," his mother said, stepping on the locket before Young could pick it up.

"You're mistaken, Mother. It wasn't what you think it was."

"Do not take me for a fool." 

Young looked his mother in the eyes. "I was undoing a spell," he lied. "A shaman cursed this locket, and I'm undoing his magic."

"...A shaman?"

He believes Jing Yuan is going to start a war," Young said. "He cursed this locket in hopes that I'd give it to him. It'd be his downfall."

"Jing Yuan...? Starting a war?"

"I'm sure you've heard the stories, Mother. Jing Yuan is now the Commanding General of the North. There are people who believe he has ulterior motives." 

"And how did you come to know about this shaman?"

"Because I am not human."

When his mother lifted her foot off the pendant, Young bent over and picked it up. "Why are you helping Jing Yuan?" she asked.

A pause.

"...I'm not. I'm helping you."

"So, you lied to your mother about using one of the most energy-consuming spells in history," Nanook says.

"You had to be sure that you were going to die if you put all that energy into tying your soul to an object," Lan adds. A small pause. “And that kind of spell wears off.”

“...What are you getting at?”

Before the god can say anything, Stelle walks up.

“...We’re going to help look for my brother.”

“What did the police say?” Nanook asks.

“They managed to track him on a few surveillance cameras around the city,” Gepard says, coming up beside Stelle with March.

“We’ll find him in no time!” March frowns. “Because I have a damn lot of questions for him.”

“As do I,” Stelle’s father says, walking up to Stelle’s other side. “Did you know he was in the hospital, Dan Heng?”

You and Young glance at each other. “No.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, the more eyes the better,” Nanook says, sighing. “Why not call Jing Yuan to help look for the guy? He has connections around the city, doesn’t he?”

“Jing Yuan?" Stelle's father frowns. "How would he know about my son?”

“Er… well…”

Stelle’s father frowns. “Who are you people, anyway? What is your relationship with him?” He shoots you, Pom, and Dan Heng a disappointed look. “Do you know him as well?”

“I’m surprised you’re so defensive,” Lan says with a pointed look. “Why is it so important whether we’re acquainted with Jing Yuan or not?”

Stelle turns to her father. “I remember you mentioning him before. How do you know him, Dad?”

“We’re business partners,” he answers cooly. “I’m surprised because young people like you shouldn’t know who he is.”

Somehow, you don’t buy it.

“Who's this Jing Yuan guy?” March finally asks. “Is he a bad person? Is that why everyone’s in a fuss?”

"Shouldn't we be focusing on finding Caelus?" you ask. 

Stelle’s father says nothing and walks away.

◆◆◆

“...Hey, Caelus.”

Instead of working, Stelle was crouching and waving a long piece of grass in front of a black cat trying to catch it between his paws. Caelus was working in the garden as usual. Since their mother's disappearance, the twins have been selling crops to the market for a living.

Caelus stood upright with a large carrot in his hand. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm. “What is it, Stelle? Maybe you could help.”

Stelle sighed just as the cat caught the grass. Then, she stood and walked to her brother. She crouched and started loosening the soil. “...Why do you think Father left us?”

“Why are you suddenly asking about that?”

“It's just something that's been on my mind." Then, quietly, "...Because Mom isn’t coming back.” Caelus’s shoulders fell as he watched his sister firmly tug on the carrot leaves. Once Stelle pulled out a carrot, she tossed it to him. “What did we do to deserve this? Is it our fault that no adult wants us?”

"What are you saying, Stelle? Mom didn't abandon us!"

Caelus wished he had a better answer. But he knew just as much as she did. Their real parents were young and poor. Left with no other options, they'd sold them to the woman Caelus and Stelle called Mother, the woman who had disappeared. But she had treated them as if they were her own children.

“...But she’s not here anymore.”

“I told you there's a reason.”

“I know,” Stelle muttered. “You saw her being taken.”

“Exactly! That wasn't her choice!”

Stelle looked in the distance where the palace stood. “Perhaps she’s enjoying the palace life. If only we could just see her one more time…”

“We will, Stelle.”

“There you go again.” Stelle rolled her eyes. “Stop your wishful thinking.”

“I’ll find a way to get into the palace.”

Stelle sighed. “I guess we'll talk when we get there.”

Caelus is sitting on a park bench, hunched over and his eyes on the ground.

It’s in the past.

That isn’t his life now. Sure, his mother isn’t always around because of her work overseas, but he has Stelle and his father. These memories… the life he lived… That’s all in the past. But if that’s the case, why does it still hurt?

“I don’t get it.” Caelus slowly looks up but sees no one around. “Why am I feeling this way?” The disembodied voice gets closer. Then, a breeze hits his right shoulder. He immediately turns and sees an unfamiliar man. He’s sitting next to him with one leg crossed over the other. “It’s nice to finally meet the brother who killed his sister.”

Caelus stumbles to his feet. “Who are you?”

Sampo uncrosses his legs and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. Then, he smiles. “Do you want me to answer your question?”

“...What question?”

“The life you’re living now is far from the one you had centuries ago. So, why are you feeling like you’re still living it?” Sampo stands. “Am I wrong?”

“Are you one of them?”

“A god?” Sampo scoffs. “No. And frankly, I don’t want to be one either. It’s not all that it appears to be.”

“That’s not my concern. If you’re not a god, who are you? Do you have something to do with Cupid?”

“Maybe. Sort of.” Sampo puts a hand in his pocket. “You can call me the Grim Reaper.”

“Is that a joke?”

“Would you like me to prove it to you?”

A short silence later, Caelus asks, “What do you want from me?”

“Why are you getting involved with them?” Sampo was stopped by Himeko while walking through the halls of the Astral Express. “It’s not like you.”

“I gave it some thought,” Sampo said. “But… as much as I got a kick over what happened centuries ago, it’s time for the foolishness to stop. Contrary to what they might think, I’m just bringing the truth to light. Cupid has to make a choice, but it’d be unfair to her if she made that choice without knowing everything. Don’t you think?”

Himeko exhaled softly. “I just hope your meddling doesn’t get you into more trouble than you are already.”

“Trouble?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Sampo chuckled. “Ah. You mean ripping out Dan Heng’s heart? It was the only way to bring Young back.”

“You knew.”

Sampo smiled. “Young didn’t just tie his soul to the locket. He used black magic to make his mother forget about him, but that backfired, didn’t it?” Then, as if realizing something, Himeko frowned just as Sampo said, “You thought you knew everything, didn’t you, Himeko?”

“What really happened back then is not my concern.” Himeko sighed. “I just want you to do your job. It’s what I’m paying you for.”

“I may love my coin, but a job should be done well, right?" 

“I want nothing from you," Sampo answers. “Just my help if you wish. I can see it all over your face, Caelus. You’re confused, lost, and, well, a little dead. No offence.”

“I don’t want these memories,” Caelus says through gritted teeth, his eyes becoming foggier. “I don’t care who or what I was.”

“You just don’t want to be burdened by your past.” Sampo steps toward him. “Well, sorry to say, kid, but that’s part of the curse. Your past self could never let go of the hate, and it’s longing for revenge. It doesn’t want you to fight. It wants you to succumb and kill Cupid.”

“Not just Cupid,” Caelus mutters. “I—”

“Caelus…?” Sampo turns and sees Jing Yuan who has a confused but cautious look. When their eyes meet, Jing Yuan narrows his eyes and asks, “Who are you?”

Caelus stumbles toward Jing Yuan as if in a trance. “...You…” Jing Yuan quickly looks back. “If only I hadn’t listened to you…”

Jing Yuan steps back. “What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be at the hospital.”

Jing Yuan had been driving home when he decided to take a shortcut on a whim. He never thought he’d see Caelus and a suspicious man together in a park.

Caelus looks over his shoulder at Sampo. "You said you'd help me if I asked for it, right?" The veins on his neck grow darker, and his body is slightly shaking as if trying to control his impulses. Then, finally, he says, "...Then help me kill him."

“What do you mean you won’t kill her?” Caelus asked, clenching his fists.

“She has nothing to do with your mother’s death,” Jing Yuan answered, not looking at him. “Her mother’s dead. The King is… has gone mad. You accomplished what you came here to do.”

But it didn’t feel enough. Yes, Caelus had helped Jing Yuan kill Young, but Caelus didn’t want to stop there. He’d made his intentions clear when he'd found out what happened to his mother: he wanted the entire royal family dead. While Luocha was his mother’s son, he was a child Caelus was sure his mother wouldn’t love as Luocha was not conceived out of love.

“You promised to help me,” Caelus said through gritted teeth. “I thought we were the same.”

“I exiled her,” Jing Yuan said flatly. “What more do you want?”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Jing Yuan finally looked at him and sighed in annoyance. “No, Caelus. We accomplished what we wanted.”

“No.” Caelus put his hands on Jing Yuan’s desk and leaned closer. “I can’t ignore this feeling anymore, so I’m just going to say it. Killing Young felt too easy. He trusted me too easily.” A small pause. “If you hadn’t exiled the princess, she would’ve been killed for her relationship with Young.”

“Your point?”

Caelus frowned. “Call me crazy. Insane, maybe. But, killing Young was planned. Not just by us."

Jing Yuan looked down and smiled. Then, he leaned back. “What an imagination you have, Caelus. You should write a book.” Jing Yuan’s gaze turned dark. “Where’s your evidence? Just because it was easy to kill him?” Then, he stood. “Young and the king are dead. The princess is gone. You got your revenge.”

“...If you’re not going to kill her, I’m going to find her,” Caelus muttered. “I'm going to find her, and I’ll kill her.”

Jing Yuan glared at him. “You're wasting your time. She has nothing to do with what happened to your mother.”

"You're still protecting her." Caelus drew his blade. “Should I kill you first?”

But he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back. Everything started spinning, but before he blacked out, his eyes met Luocha.

Jing Yuan can’t believe this is happening. He’s wrestling with Caelus. Caelus, for goodness sake. And while Jing Yuan thinks it will be an easy fight, Caelus proves to be much stronger than Jing Yuan thought. Or, maybe it's because of the curse.

Sampo grabs Caelus by the shirt collar and effortlessly throws him off of Jing Yuan. “You ain’t killing anyone, kid,” Sampo says.

As soon as Jing Yuan gets to his feet, he looks from Caelus to Sampo. “...Who the hell are you?”

“You’re welcome.”

Jing Yuan hears a groan and sees Caelus staggering to his feet, swaying a little. Then, before either of them can say anything, Jing Yuan hears a familiar voice. When he turns, it’s his turn to groan. “Great,” he mutters as Caelus’s father runs towards his son. “This is just what we need.”

◆◆◆

“She’s learning about magic,” Caelus said, “and I don’t think she’s doing it alone.” It was the night after Caelus had met you for the first time. “I tried making a deal with her, but it didn’t go as planned.”

Jing Yuan was twirling the ring around his finger as if contemplating something. Finally, he asked, “What deal did you ask for?”

“I want to know how much she knows about magic and where she's getting this information from."

Jing Yuan looked at Caelus who looked deep in thought. It was by chance Jing Yuan met this mysterious delivery boy, but after a round of drinks together, Caelus spilled the real reason why he was at the palace. Jing Yuan could sense it. The frustration. Agony. Confusion. They were similar. Abandoned at a young age. And while Jing Yuan didn’t know what had happened to Caelus’s mother when they met, he wouldn’t be surprised if your parents knew about her disappearance. Caelus was broken. He was a boy who was forced to grow up too fast and needed someone to confide in… He may prove to be useful.

"Do you know? You two are close, aren't you?"

Jing Yuan didn't want to answer that question, and he didn't have to as a knock came at the door.

It slid open, and Luocha walked inside. "I hope I'm not interrupting something." Without another word, Caelus left the room. Once he slid the door shut, Jing Yuan exhaled sharply, but Luocha knew the frustration was not directed at him. "He's a curious one."

“He’s just a child.”

“Yet, you intend on keeping him around? Someone like him could be dangerous.”

“He’s all bark and no bite,” Jing Yuan said flatly. “But, he’ll be useful.”

“In what way?”

“He’s looking for information about his mother. She was apparently brought to the palace when he was very young, but she’s not here.” When Luocha said nothing, Jing Yuan asked, “Do you remember you telling me you think you’re not the queen’s son?”

Luocha narrowed his eyes. “...What are you getting at?”

“Perhaps they're connected.” Jing Yuan put a hand on Luocha’s shoulder. “Maybe you should do some digging.”

Jing Yuan began walking past him until Luocha stopped him by saying his name. The general looked over his shoulder.

“I saw you… with Young the other day.”

Jing Yuan turned around. “You must have imagined it.”

“But I didn't. I know what I saw.” Luocha had fully turned to face Jing Yuan. “What were you two talking about?”

Luocha’s hand is shaking as the cup falls and shatters on the floor. He takes a breath and is about to pick up the broken pieces when he sees an unexpected hand reach out. Luocha immediately turns and sees Lan.

“What are you doing here?” Luocha asks, clearly surprised.

“Caelus is missing,” Lan says without looking at the doctor. He picks up some of the broken glass, none of which cuts him. “I thought he might’ve come here.”

“Missing?” Lan stands upright and puts the pieces in a small pile on the counter. “Unfortunately, he’s not here… How in the world did he escape?”

“...He tricked one of the nurses, apparently.”

Luocha put a hand on the counter. “This is bad. I—”

“There’s something else I want to ask.”

A pause.

“Before Young died, had he ever met Jing Yuan?"

“Now, it’s my turn to ask," Luocha says. "Did something happen? Or else, why would you be asking?”

Lan exhales softly. “Young is back.” He doesn’t give Luocha a chance to ask as he explains what happened.

“...A spell that ties the soul to an object,” Luocha says. He sighs. “I guess that would explain why the locket went missing. It had a life of its own.” A small pause. “...What does that have to do with Jing Yuan?”

“That kind of spell wears off. In other words, Young had to know he was going to die. Or else, it wouldn't make sense to go through all that effort." 

“...Wait. You’re not saying…”

“I think you know exactly what I’m saying.”

◆◆◆

When everyone decided to split to search for Caelus, you and Young had gone off together. It isn’t long into your search when Young asks about Caelus, and you tell him that he and Dan Heng are good friends.

“I see. That’s good to hear.” Young gives you a gentle smile. “I remember you talked about him quite a bit.”

“Did I?” You face him and gently squish his cheek. “Don’t tell me you were jealous. I don’t remember any of that.”

Your eyes slightly go wide as if you’d done something you weren’t supposed to. It’s strange. Your old lover in your current lover’s body. The two are supposedly the same person. So, it shouldn't feel different. Yet, it does. You’re about to pull your hand back when Young takes your hand.

“We have so much freedom here,” he says. Then, he leans in and kisses your forehead. “It’s something we’ve always wanted.”

That’s true.

“...Are you… going to stay?” you ask quietly.

“I can’t. Dan Heng is my reincarnation, but this is still his body.”

“...And his life.” Young is still holding your hand when he drops it to the side. “Even if you could stay, you’d be robbing Dan Heng of his life.”

“I know you wouldn’t want me to do that to him.” Young puts his other hand around your head and pulls you close. “The world is for the living. I may have tied my soul to the locket, but... that doesn't mean I'm alive. I have to move on." A small pause. "And I want you to come with me.”

Your eyes widen.

Young briefly closes his eyes. “...There’s also something I have to tell you.” He slowly releases you, and you’re looking into his eyes when he says, “It’s about how I died.”

“I don’t know if you’re bold or stupid.”

Young’s sharp gaze remained on the moon, despite the voice from the shadows behind him.

“Perhaps I can say the same for you.” When Young turned, his brother tossed the note and one of its edges landed firmly in the ground. Once Jing Yuan stepped on it, it immediately turned to dust. “It's been a while, Brother.”

“...You—”

“Did you know Mother would sometimes say your name in her sleep?”

Jing Yuan clenched his fists. “Did she tell you everything?”

“My father told me the truth about their marriage, and I started piecing everything together. For years, I've seen how unhappy she was with my father and her strong animosity towards humans." Young's gaze hardened. “Let me get straight to the point." A small pause. "She’s going to start a war.”

Jing Yuan furrowed his brows. “What—”

“I caught her multiple times experimenting with black magic. She wants revenge… for what the North did to the man she really loved. Your father. But she doesn’t want it to stop there.”

Jing Yuan almost laughed. “And why are you telling me this? Do you want me to stop her? Why would she listen to the son she abandoned?”

“She loves you, Jing Yuan,” Young said calmly. “...I was born out of a loveless marriage. You were not.”

Jing Yuan suddenly had Young by the throat against a large tree. “Yet, she chose you.” Young could feel his brother’s hand shaking. “Why is it always you?”

Young slowly pried Jing Yuan’s hand away and quietly said your name. “You lied to me that night when you said you’d kill her. I could see it in your eyes. You love her.” A small pause. “...Which brings me to why I’m here.”

Jing Yuan glared at his brother. “...Is Mother going to kill her?”

"The war is but a means to enslave the human race."

“And why should I trust you?”

“Because I cannot do this alone. I cannot stop her alone.” Young stepped toward his brother. “Mother is going to torture her, Jing Yuan. Her life will no longer be hers."

Jing Yuan clenched his fists. “You must be joking if I'm going help bring you two happiness. Mother and I share the same pain. Why do you think I came to the North? To get rid of this damn family.”

“...We will never have happiness.” Clearly, this took Jing Yuan off guard as he relaxed his hard stare. “Think about it, Jing Yuan. The situation. The circumstances. They say love conquers all, but that is only half the battle."

After a short silence, Jing Yuan looked away. “Then, why are you trying so hard? You can't be together. Why are you still trying so hard for her?”

“...Because no matter what happens, I want her to live and find her happiness even if it’s not with me.”

Jing Yuan closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. “You sure talk big, Brother.” Then, his gold eyes landed on him. “I hope you’re ready to live up to what you say.”

“I am. Because for this to work, you’re going to have to kill me."

Chapter 26

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @seirenspinel @lxry-chxn @nqctre @lunavixia @tanspostsblog @theprinceofkhaos @akwardbiscuit @sunsethw4 @hiqhkey @n8mareee @vintagepoetryluna @kplatzman

[canirove]

In The Name of Love | Chapter 34

Previous chapter | Epilogue

Masterlist

I've been back in Barcelona for a couple of months now, and so far everything has been great.  

I took my mum to Rome, where we stayed for a week doing all the touristy things you could think of, eating our weight in gelato, and having long conversations that have made us understand each other a lot better, finally managing to have a good relationship. 

I also went with Marina and David to Mykonos, a place they both had always dreamt to visit. Though it wasn't as dreamy as they thought. After a couple of days struggling to find somewhere that wasn't too crowded or full of tourists, we decided to just stay at our villa. During the day we would lay in the sun, take advantage of our private swimming pool or just sleep and relax, and at night we would sit outside drinking some wine, talking and laughing about anything and everything. We realized that we didn't need to go to a fancy place to have fun. Being together was all that mattered.

And now I am back home, getting everything ready for the new school year, feeling as excited about it as I did the first time I got to properly teach.

"Do you remember how we spent the day before looking through both your wardrobe and mine trying to find the perfect outfit for your first day as a teacher?" Silvia asks me while we are chilling on the sofa.

"I remember that the house was a mess afterwards."

"Yeah, that too" she laughs. "But you looked really cute."

"I did, didn't I? I got many compliments from the other teachers. One of them even tried to flirt with me."

"I mean, it was a really nice dress. Do you still have it?"

"I gave it away when we did that big spring cleaning a couple of years ago."

"Oh, shame… But have you kept any photo where you are wearing it?"

"Of course I have. You made me take a bunch before I left for work so I could remember that day" I laugh.

"I was a proud mum" Silvia smiles. "Can you search for them?"

"Just promise not to make fun of me if I look ridiculous" I say, unlocking my phone. "It was a different time."

"You didn't look ridi… Val. Val, hey, what is it?" 

"Nothing."

"Then why are you crying? That bad are those photos?"

"No, it's just… I hadn't realized… today."

"Uh?" Silvia says with a confused look.

"Today is my anniversary with Pedri… or was. And the memories thing on my phone showed me a photo of us together and…"

"Aww, Val. I'm sorry."

"It's ok" I say, wiping away my tears. "It's a good memory."

"Can I see it? The photo with him, I mean."

"Sure" I reply, giving her my phone. "It's at his secret beach as he called it, the one where he took me when we started seeing each other. The 14 of each month we would try to go there to watch the sunset and eat something, and we would spend our time talking about the most random things until it got dark and too cold. It was just us, and it was… perfect."

"It does sound perfect" she smiles.

"Today it is so hot that we would have probably gone for a swim and then buy some ice cream."

"What if… what if we do that?"

"What?" I ask.

"Go for a swim and buy some ice cream. I know I am not him, but…"

"I would love that" I smile. 

"Great" Silvia says, getting up from the sofa and offering me her hand. "Shall we?"

"Let's go."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"You don't have to do it, Val."

"I know. But I want to" I say, opening the car's door. After going for a swim and getting some ice cream with Silvia, I asked her to drive me to the beach Pedri and I used to go to. For some reason, I felt like I needed to be there today. 

"Do you want me to go with you?" she asks.

"Please" I nod.

We walk in silence, Silvia holding my hand and giving it little squeezes as we get closer to the lookout from where you can see the whole beach. 

"This is beautiful, Val" she says.

"It is" I whisper, taking in the view. There are a couple of fluffy clouds here and there, the sea is calm, and the light is making the sand look almost golden. The sand. There is someone walking on the sand, someone… It can't be. 

"Ouch, Val! That hurts!" Silvia says when I squeeze her hand as if my life depended on it.

"It's him."

"What?"

"Down there" I say, my eyes fixed on the beach. "That's him. He's here."

"Who… Oh, shit. That is him."

"What do I do, Silvia?" 

"Go down there, of course!"

"What? No! I can't… I can't do that."

"You can and you will, Val. Go tell Pedri that you still love him and that you want to spend the rest of your life with him." 

"But what if he doesn't want to see me? What if he has moved on?" I say, looking at him while he kicks the sand.

"Val, do you really think that if he had moved on, he would be here on a day like today?"

"I…"

"Besides, what has Ferran been telling you all these months?"

"That he still loves me."

"Exactly. So go down there and get back with your teenage boy."

"He isn't a teenager anymore" I chuckle.

"Even better."

"But Silvia…"

"You were waiting for destiny to give you a sign, right? Well, this is it. Now go" she says, pushing me towards the stairs.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Ok, Valeria. You can do this" I say to myself. He is standing with his back to me and looking at the sea, completely oblivious of the fact that I am behind him, that I also am here. "Pedri?" I call, my voice sounding all squeaky. But he doesn't say anything, just shakes his head. "Pedri" I say again, this time a bit louder.

"Yeah, I've completely lost it" he laughs, running a hand through his hair. 

"Lost what?" I ask.

"My sanity, Val. I can hear your voice as if you were here with me."

"I am here, Pedri."

"You are in my head."

"I'm here" I repeat, putting my hand on his shoulder, my touch making him flinch.

"That's an illusion. I've completely lost my mind, you aren't real."

"I am real and I am here" I say, now moving to be in front of him. "Open your eyes, Pedri."

"No."

"What?"

"If I open my eyes you will leave."

"I'm not going anywhere, Pedri" I say, caressing his cheek and wiping away a tear.  

"I can't lose you again, Val" he says, resting his hand on top of mine. 

"You won't, because I am not going anywhere. Please open your eyes."

"I can't."

"Pedri, please" I beg him. Now I am the one who is crying. 

"Val…"

"I'm not going anywhere, Pedri. I promise. I want to be with you, to spend the rest of my life with you, to fight for this, for us. And I don't care if I have to do it against a horde of crazy teenagers, bullies like Isabel, or judgy parents who have nothing better to do than gossip. I'm done with letting people's opinions rule my life." 

"Val…" he repeats, his voice now almost a whisper.

"You know, I've never believed in love at first sight" I continue. "I always thought it was something from fairy tales, something that didn't exist. But then, on a day like today, in a club I had never set foot before, I met you and you completely changed my mind. Because I fell in love the moment we locked eyes and you smiled at me, Pedri. It was all that smile, to be honest. The one that by now you know makes me giggle like an idiot and feel funny things in my stomach. And when I think of the way you made me feel when you kissed me, when you…"

"Made you scream my name on the rooftop?" he smirks, opening one eye.

"I was going to say it in a more cheesy way and you just ruined it."

"Damn it" he chuckles. "You saying something like that happens once in a blue moon."

"It does. And when it happens, it is because of you. Because I love you, Pedri. I love you in a way I've never loved anyone before, and in a way I think I will never love anyone else. It's you. It's you, Pedri" I say, both my hands cupping his face, my eyes fixed on his now that both of them are finally open. "It is and will always be you. Only you" I whisper. 

"Can we kiss now or are you gonna keep being cheesy?" he smiles. And it is that smile, the one that completely disarmed me the night we met. 

"Idiot.”

"No one calls me idiot the way you do."

"I know" I smile back.

"But before we kiss…" he says. "Can I confess something?” 

"Ok."

"Ferran has been telling me almost daily to not give up, to be patient, that you still loved me and wanted me back, that we are destined to be together… So to keep reminding myself of all that, I've been coming here every 14 since you left, hoping that somehow you would show up."

"Really?"

"Yeah… I know it was a bit stupid because I knew you were in Manchester, but… I don't know. I just felt like I had to, you know?"

"It isn't stupid, Pedri. Because today I felt like I had to come here, it was like something was calling me… You."

"Glad to know my plan worked out" he laughs. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I had missed your laugh" I shrug. "But that won't happen ever again. And do you know why?"

"Enlighten me, Valeria" he says with a teasing smile.

"It won't happen again because I'm not going anywhere, Pedri. I promise."

"Are you sure? Because you know how serious our promises are. You can't go back on it now" he says.

"I won't. I'm here to stay" I say, putting my hand over his heart. "Forever."

"Forever" he whispers before finally kissing me. 

At first it is a very soft kiss, almost shy. But it doesn't take us too long until we are kissing as if our lives depended on it, as if we needed the other to breathe. 

"I love you, Val" Pedri says when we manage to break apart. "I love you and I'm planning on telling you every hour of every day of the rest of my life."

"Isn't that a bit too much?" I laugh.

"It actually won't be enough."

"Dear lord, Pedro. You are so cheesy" I laugh again.

"Only for you, Val. Only for the love of my life" he smiles. "Happy anniversary, by the way."

"Happy anniversary" I reply with a matching smile before we start kissing again, the sun setting behind us as it did that first time on this beach. Like it did that first night at his house when he made me feel things I had never felt before. 

The night that even if my brain kept denying it, my heart was already completely his.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con bordering on non-con, ignoring of sexual boundaries

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen"--or something like that

4. Mise-en-Place

Wait! I haven't read the previous chapter(s)

Steve has to promise his coworker Daryl everything short of oral sex to get him to pick up his weekend shifts. But he does agree to do it.

And then Steve spends most of the week daydreaming about the upcoming trip with James. He packs and repacks his bag probably a dozen times. He doesn’t really know anything about what they’ll be doing, other than fucking and hanging out at the house. And he doesn’t know anything about the house except that it has a hot tub.

“The Catskills?” Clint complains when Steve calls the morning of his departure to let him know that he’ll be gone for a few days. “You’ve known this guy for a hot second and you’re letting him take you away to the middle of nowhere?”

Steve huffs. “It’s not the middle of nowhere. He’s got a house out there. He goes there all the time.” Steve stuffs his swim trunks into his already stuffed-full weekend bag, then wrestles the zipper closed. He plops down onto his bed with the phone at his ear. “Be happy for me. I really think this is going to go somewhere.”

Clint sighs over the line. “Fine. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Steve says primly.

“You’re welcome. Look, just … just let me know when you’ve gotten there safely, okay? And text me his address so I at least know where to send the cops for your body.”

“Thank you, Safety Officer Barton,” Steve drawls. “I’ll text you.” They say goodbye and Steve hangs up. He checks the time—still an hour to go. He sighs and tries to resist the urge to check and repack his stuff again.

Steve’s smile is massive as James pulls up in front of his building in the most ridiculous car Steve’s ever seen outside of a movie. “Wow,” he says.

James is movie star handsome in his windswept hair and sunglasses, jaw working as he chews a piece of gum. “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Steve laughs at the line and tosses his bag in the backseat. He opens the passenger side door and slides in across buttery leather. “Is this a fucking Lamborghini?”

“Bugatti, baby,” James says, popping his gum. “You like it?”

“Well I’m not exactly a car guy but …” Steve looks around the interior and nods, impressed. “Don’t you think it’s too cold to have the top down?”

“Psh, 'course it is.” James pushes a button on the dash and the top starts coming out. He leans over and pecks a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Just wanted to pull up in style.”

Steve hums, taking in the nice outfit James is wearing, how he manages to look so well put together even when he’s casual. (What is something like that called? A sports jacket?) “Yeah. I don’t think anybody could accuse you of not being stylish.” He tries to remember what all he’d stuffed in his bag that morning. It hadn’t all been tee shirts and jeans, had it? Hm. He fiddles with his hands, picking at where there’s still a bit of ochre #217 crusted under the nail. “This isn’t what you were driving on our date.”

“I usually keep this one out at the house,” James tells him. “I’m not about to shell out for a second parking space in fucking Midtown.”

Steve laughs at him, because anybody who drives a Bugatti sure as shit doesn’t have to worry about wasting a few grand on parking.

“Hey! It’s the principle of the matter,” James argues as they zip down Atlantic Avenue, headed for the interstate. “Some things are worth splurging on, some things aren’t.”

“Okay.” Steve settles back in his seat. “What’s worth splurging on, then?”

“Mm.” James pretends to think about it. “Cars to impress your new boyfriend,” he says, and Steve’s heart skips a beat. “Watches. I fucking love watches. Hm … travel, art, a view, privacy,” he continues listing, unaware that Steve’s still totally stuck on the first part. “And a good meal.” He looks over, grinning. “Don’t you think?”

“Um,” Steve licks his lips, trying to calm down. “Y-yeah. Yeah I guess all of those things.” He looks back out the windshield, thoughts spinning. Should he say something? He thinks he should. No better time than when they’re stuck together in a car. There’ll be no escaping the conversation. “So … are we boyfriends?” he asks, his voice coming out much quieter than he intends. He sounds exactly as nervous as he doesn’t want James to think he is. “I mean …” He looks over, can’t read James’ expression because the guy’s half cloaked by the aviators. “Are we?”

James takes one hand off the wheel and holds it out for Steve, threading their fingers together. “I was thinking that we were,” he says, not looking away from the road. “I haven’t been seeing anyone else since I met you. I haven’t wanted to.”

Steve swallows, the butterflies (or frogs or whatever-the-fuck idiom it is that lives in his stomach) jumping around happily. “Me neither,” he says. He tries not to beam too much, tries to be smooth and cool like James is. “Ah, that’s kind of what I was hoping for. What I was hoping you wanted.” He huffs and scratches at his neck awkwardly. “I just um, guess I’ve gotten used to not putting a label on things. ‘Boyfriend’ and stuff.” He looks down. “Guys tend to disappear once you start talking like that.”

“Fuck. What sorts of losers have you been dating?” James says, and Steve is so honestly taken aback that he has to laugh at himself a little and concede the point.

“Yeah, I guess you might be right.”

“I know I’m right.”

It’s cute, how James has gentlemanly outrage for Steve’s lame ass dating life. Steve shrugs, smiling because it’s nice to feel wanted for once, instead of disposable. “S’fine. It just got disheartening after a while. I was starting to think maybe I’m one of those people who’s just meant to wind up alone. The odd one out. Ya know?”

It’s quiet, and when Steve looks over he’s surprised to find James staring at him, the aviators slipped down his nose to reveal his eyes. “Yeah,” James murmurs. “Yeah I know a little bit about being the odd one out.” On the center console, his hand gives Steve’s a squeeze. “And nobody’s meant to be alone, Honey.”

Steve’s chest constricts a little. He licks his lips and watches James watch him. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anybody with eyes as kind and as real as James’. He’s so fucking genuine that it makes Steve feel cracked open whenever James stares at him, peeled down to the raw bits underneath. “You know,” he says quietly. “I’ve never met somebody who looks at me like that.”

James’ mouth quirks. “Like what?”

“Hm. Like you know me already.” Steve turns his head with a sigh and lets his eyes slip closed while he feels the warmth of the sun coming in through the car window. “Like you can read my thoughts. Like you see something other people don’t. It’s intense.”

“... Too intense?”

“Mm mn.” Steve shakes his head. “No, actually I like it. It’s nice for a change. Makes me feel ... I dunno, almost kinda savored?”

When Steve peeks at him again, he’s treated to the sight of James, with his sunglasses pushed back up, grinning at the road. His smile is a slash of sparkling white across his handsome face, making him look too good to be true. “Somebody like you should be savored,” he tells him. “You know, I think I might keep you, Steve.”

Steve grins and turns his head to look back out the window as they drive farther and farther from the city.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Steve opens his eyes, yawning as the car pulls to a stop. “Mm.” He stretches and unhooks his seatbelt. "We there?"

“We’re here.”

From the driveway, the house isn’t much to look at. It’s almost fully concealed within the expertly done landscaping, as if the house’s existence itself is supposed to be a secret. The custom building materials visible at the front door are severe but unique, hinting at what’s inside.

“Holy f—” Steve trails in after James, eyes wide as he looks around.

“Home sweet home,” James demures, dropping Steve’s bag on the kitchen island and walking over to the fridge. There’s the tinkle of ice as he pulls things from the freezer drawer. “So what do you think? It’s nice, right?”

“Um …” Steve walks slowly through the living room, taking in the expensive house. One glance around and anybody with two braincells to rub together would be able to tell that the place was completely custom made, from the studs right on up to the roof. “Yeah. It’s really ...” he looks around. “Intimidating.”

“‘Intimidating’,” James echoes, amused. He pours something amber from a crystal decanter. “I guess that’s fair. You told me I'm intimidating, and I am the one who designed it.”

Steve goes to sit on the couch. “No, I mean it’s great, don’t get me wrong.” He looks around, considering the dark wood and poured concrete and brick, the beaten leather sofas and various oddball art pieces that somehow feel right. “Very … midcentury meets 70’s eclectic.”

James smirks and brings their drinks over, handing Steve his. “Ya know, I know you’re a snobby artist,” he teases. “So I’m not sure if you’re actually complimenting my house or poking fun at it.”

Steve grins around his cocktail straw. “Well it’s more fun if I leave you wondering.”

James sits down next to him on the couch. “Gonna keep me on my toes?”

“Oh, always.”

“By the way, that’s my version of an old fashioned,” James tells him. They clink glasses in a little toast.

“To our weekend away,” Steve says.

“To our very relaxing weekend away,” James agrees. “By the way,” he nods at Steve’s glass. “There’s a little something extra in there. Want to try and guess what it is?

“Ooh. Okay. What are the stakes?”

James waggles his eyebrows. “Oral sex?”

Steve snorts. “Okay sure. But is there really a loser in that equation?”

“Probably not.” James gives him a wink. “But there is most certainly a winner.”

Steve brings his glass up for a thoughtful sip. “Hmm … peach?” he guesses.

James smirks and sinks back further into the couch. “Nope. Close though.”

Steve tries again, sips and thinks about it. “Apricot?”

“Nope.” James is looking delighted. “One more guess. You are close.”

“Well if it’s a stone fruit …” Steve frowns. “Oh! Nectarine?”

“Ha! Yep you got it.” James looks utterly pleased as he leans over to peck a kiss to his cheek. “Smart boy. You win."

Steve flushes at the words. “You don’t seem like a very sore loser.”

“There’s no bet I’d be happier to lose.” James heaves himself up off the couch with a deep sigh. “Alright, obligatory tour time?” He holds out his hand, and Steve is back to grinning like a fool as he lets his boyfriend show him around his intimidating—but also, really damn nice—house.

“It doesn’t feel very lived in,” Steve admits, as they’re changing into their swim trunks. James leads him to the back patio where there’s a hot tub sunken into the concrete. “I thought you said you spend a lot of time here?”

“I said I spend as much time as I can here. Which isn’t as much as I’d like.” James scoots over to sit beside him. “You know we didn’t actually have to wear swimsuits. We’re hours from the city.”

“So isolated. No neighbors at all?”

“Mm mn. Not for miles.”

“Wow. It’s strange to think that places like that even exist anymore.” Steve lays his head on James’ shoulder. “After a lifetime in Brooklyn, ya know? To think that there’s that much space left in the world for just two people?” He shakes his head. “S’crazy.”

“Yeah. But I like it.” James wraps an arm around his waist, holding him close. “It’s freeing, you know? You can just be yourself out here. Don’t have to worry about what anybody will think.”

“Think of what?” Steve asks, remembering how James has said similar things about enjoying privacy in the past. “Are you not out to your family, or something?”

James laughs. “No, not that. I’ve been out to everyone I know since med school. I just meant: in general, I find the seclusion relaxing. I don’t have to worry about nosy neighbors, or being too loud.” He squeezes Steve’s side playfully. “Or walking around butt naked if I want.”

Steve giggles. He pulls away from James in the water, turning to face him with a sly look. “Well, maybe you’re right then.” He slides out of his trunks and holds them up in show before tossing them away. They land with a wet 'splat' on the concrete. “Fuck swimsuits.”

James laughs in delight and copies him, tossing his shorts in the same direction. “Yeah, fuck ‘em.” They’re both laughing as he pulls Steve back in to straddle his lap, the water bubbling around them and mostly-obscuring their nudity. “Oh, Steve,” he sighs. “I’m so glad you let me bring you out here.” He reaches up and cups his jaw. “I really want to get to know you, intimately.” His thumb traces a tender path on Steve’s cheek. “It’ll be nice. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Yeah, it really will.”

They talk for what feels like hours, flirting and sipping cocktails and trading jokes. They share their opinions on stupid topics and meaningful ones, interspersed with the few quiet moments that happen when one of them works up the nerve to tell the other about some intimate detail from their life.

Steve confesses that he'd reached a low point, after his mom's death, and that he hadn't improved until he'd sought out therapy. James receives the information with sympathy, and then keeps his eyes averted as he admits that he’s been married, once before. “It didn’t last long,” he mumbles, looking rueful about it. “Less than a year.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says gently. “What happened?”

James shakes his head sadly. “He just wasn’t the one. We didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things and ... he left me."

Steve bites his lip, hating how sad James looks as he talks about it. He tries to lighten the mood by recounting the story of one hilariously bad date in recent memory. It gets James laughing again, which is a relief, and they fall back into the easy banter that seems to come so naturally to them. They’re both dog people. James prefers tea to coffee. Steve is a staunch murderer of houseplants. James fancies himself a gourmet cook.

“Yeah, you still have to prove that to me,” Steve teases as they head back inside, their discarded bathing suits left behind on the patio like shed skin.

James towels Steve off and pulls him into the bed, lying over him. “Oh, I'll prove it. Gonna cook you an amazing dinner tonight.” He dips down, kissing him gently. “But first, I think there’s a wager I lost that I need to make good on.” He kisses down Steve’s throat, his chest. “You want that?”

Steve squirms and nods, blood flowing south at just the thought of James’ beautiful mouth around his dick. “Yeah. Yeah, you definitely should. Don’t want to be a sore loser.”

“Definitely not. Especially since you’re such a gracious winner,” James continues kissing his way down, taking his time, big hands splayed out over ribs, caressing him. “Love your body, honey,” he murmurs against the pale skin of his stomach. He lets his hands slide further down, thumbs swiping over hip bones. “So sweet. So delicate.”

“Christ,” Steve complains, but James doesn’t let him get away with that.

“No. I mean it, Steven. Every part of you. You hear me?”

“Yeah yeah, I—” Steve inhales sharply as he’s suddenly enveloped in the wet heat of James’ mouth, not even very hard, yet. “Oh!”

“Mmhm,” James hums around his mouthful of rapidly-hardening dick. He sucks him gently, rubbing his hands over Steve’s hips, his belly, his sensitive inner thighs. He pops off and taps Steve’s cock against the flat of his tongue. “Feel good?”

Steve nods shakily. “Y-yeah. Yeah keep going. Please.”

James smiles and kisses his belly reverently, then takes him right back into his mouth. Even as Steve hardens all the way, James can still handle a lot, not choking even when Steve’s cock hits the back of his throat. Steve moans at a particularly strong suck. “James, yes,” he whispers, sliding his fingers into James' dark hair and holding him. “Oh, god …” A hand joins in, stroking while James lavishes attention at the head. He’s gentle in how he handles him, but utterly methodical. Steve’s hips kick up once James starts playing with his balls, and he whines near-desperately when a single finger ventures back to his asshole. “Oh fuck …”

James makes a pleased noise that reverberates all the way through Steve's cock and into his balls. He presses the tip of his finger in dry, takes him all the way down to the hilt—and swallows compulsively around the head of his dick.

Steve comes with a sudden cry, clinging to James helplessly as he spurts against his tongue. "Ah ah, ahnn ..." James hums and holds him and sucks him through it, only pulling off once Steve is shivering in oversensitivity. He lays his cheek on Steve’s stomach and waits him out while he recovers. “S-sorry,” Steve pants. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

Eventually Steve’s breathing calms, and he opens his eyes again. He looks down at where James is resting against his stomach, his dark hair against Steve’s pale skin, mouth red and shiny with cum. “Fuck,” Steve breathes. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

James licks his lips clean, staring up at him. “And you’re delicious.” He climbs back up his body, dick hard and insistent where it drags a wet line across Steve’s belly. “Can I fuck you, Sweetheart?” he asks, the words sweeter than they have any right to be as he dips down and kisses him with the taste of cum still on his lips. “Is that okay? or are you too sensitive?”

Steve shivers, rolling his hips up even though his dick has gone soft. “No. No, you can,” he breathes, reaching down to take hold of James' cock and give it a squeeze. It's so hot and big, and the feeling of it throbbing against his palm makes arousal flare back to life in Steve’s belly. “Just … just go slow, yeah?”

James kisses him tenderly, promising, “Of course. Always. Hang on a sec.” He stretches away for the bedside drawer, and then his weight returns. He encourages Steve to roll over onto his front, gently maneuvering a pillow under his hips. “There you go,” he praises, running a hand down the center of his back, over his ass and then the back of one thigh. “God, Steve ... You’re a fucking wet dream, you know that?”

Steve huffs. “Yeah, sure.” He pulses down against the pillow, dick spent but still enjoying the sensation. He gasps when he suddenly feels James nosing between his cheeks. “Oh! Oh fuck, are you gonna —”

“Yeah,” James breathes out against his hole and grabs handfuls of his ass. He squeezes. “Oh, Baby. This fuckin’ peach of an ass." He kisses just below Steve’s tailbone and murmurs, “You’re so small but you got the roundest little ass I ever saw. You know that, Honey?”

Steve makes a tiny sound of protest, but then in the next second James is licking right over him, lapping and sucking at his hole like he can’t get enough. Steve grunts into the sheets and screws his eyes shut, panting at how good it feels. “God, ugh, James …”

James tongues and sucks at him, pulls away with the wettest, filthiest sound possible and growls, “Just want to eat this ass up.”

Steve cries out at the sharp pinch of teeth on his ass, but that sound bleeds into a groan when James sucks hard on the spot, almost certainly securing a bruise in Steve's future. “Fuck,” Steve pants quietly, grinding down against the pillow beneath his hips. He realizes he’s getting hard again just as James starts to really tongue fuck his hole—quick, dirty little jabs that make Steve clench and twitch, desperately aware of how much more he wants to feel. “James,” he gasps, mouth gone dry. He turns his head and pants. “James, oh, please. Please, come on.” He huffs and whines and tries to reach back, and James gets the hint.

He crawls up Steve’s body and seals his chest to Steve's back, kneeing his legs apart, laying his full weight into him. He kisses the nape of Steve's neck and slowly slides his hands all the way down the length of his arms, hands covering Steve's smaller ones at the very end. Steve groans at how good it feels.

“Oh, Daddy.”

He doesn’t mean to say it. It just slips out.

James is quiet for a heartbeat, feeling Steve's back tensing beneath him. He hums smugly and starts kissing and licking at his neck. “Aw, what’s wrong?” he coos. "You embarrassed, Princess? Just cause you like Daddy’s tongue in your ass? Does that get you real worked up?” Steve whines in mortification and James snickers. He licks along the shell of his ear. “Oh yeah, that’s what it is. You’re embarrassed cause you need Daddy to put something a little bigger up there, don'tcha? You need it, and you don’t want to have to ask.”

Steve moans weakly, tears nearly coming to his eyes at how easily James just accepted it, went with it. Fuck, he’s too good to be true. “Yes,” he whispers, pushing his ass back the little bit that he can, with James’ big body weighing him down. “Yeah Daddy, please.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay Baby,” James exhales shakily, as if this is getting to him just as much. “Anything you want, you know that? You can have it.” He kisses Steve’s shoulder and lubes up his fingers, dragging them right over Steve’s hole. “Relax for me, Honey. Just let me make you feel good.”

He presses in with two, slowly, and Steve gasps at the sudden pressure and the stretch. “Oh,” he pants quietly against the sheets, “Oh f-fuck ..."

“Okay?” James asks. He hooks his fingers and gives a slow drag out. “Hm?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. His eyes are closed and his brow furrowed as he focuses on the feeling. “Fuck, yeah. It’s–it's good ... oh…”

James pushes back in. He starts up a slow but steady rhythm, fucking him softly on two fingers until Steve’s pressing back into it eagerly, ready enough for another. “Fuck, Honey,” he groans when Steve is clenching and moaning on three of his fingers, wet and loose and pushing back into it, crying out when he gets at his prostate just right. “You ready for my cock, baby?” James asks, already pulling his fingers out.

“Yeah,” Steve says, nodding eagerly and squirming. “Yeah. Condom?”

James hums and rolls his hips, sliding his dick through the slicked up valley of Steve’s ass. “I got tested,” he murmurs. “Don’t need one.”

“What? But—”

James hushes him with a kiss to his shoulder. “We don’t need one,” he whispers, reassuring him. “It’s fine.”

Steve whines, trying to think past the haze of his lust. “Yeah but I … I don’t think—”

James has propped himself up on one arm and is holding his dick with the other, guiding it where he wants it, rubbing the head against Steve’s hole. His knees spread Steve's legs wider, and Steve whimpers,

“Oh, w-wait,”

“Shhh.” James presses harder. His cock slips inside. “Theere we go.”

Steve’s breath catches at the feeling. “Fuck, oh …”

“Beautiful.” James falls back over him, body heavy and warm, cock sliding in in in, until his hips meet Steve's ass. "Oohyeah." He grinds into him and kisses his shoulder. “You’re okay,” he soothes, hips rocking just the barest bit, his cock huge and unrelenting where it's fully seated. “S'that good? Tell Daddy how it feels."

Steve whimpers and nods tightly, because it does feel good. It feels amazing. He loves this part, always has; the first few, overwhelming seconds of being penetrated, being taken. It’s so full, so much pressure inside that he can hardly stand it. “Y-yeah,” he says shakily, thinking about the condom, how James is bare up inside him right now. “S’big. Oh, fuck, James …”

“Yeah,” James says, moving against him in another, dirty grind. Then he seeks out Steve’s mouth and kisses him as he starts to fuck him softly.

And Steve kisses back, accepting the slide of James’ tongue and the hot push of his cock as the pleasure mounts. His cock throbs against the pillow and his insides begin to coil tighter and tighter, wanting more. He tries to fuck back harder, tries to wedge a hand underneath of himself, but James catches him in against his body and rolls them over, Steve still held captive against his chest. He hooks a heel over Steve's shin, curls a hand at the base of his neck. His other hand slides down his belly, bumping his cock but not reaching to take him in hand. He just holds him still while he keeps rolling his hips, fucking up into him languidly.

It’s frustratingly slow but it’s at the right angle. In fact it’s at such a fucking perfect angle, and the feeling of being trapped so thoroughly against James' body is so nice, that Steve starts to get close anyway. He cries out and begs, telling James how good it is, babbling at him, begging him for just a touch, just a little more. “I’m gonna cum, please. Ohgod, ohmygod ...” He reaches for himself, cries out loudly when James knocks his hand away, denying him with a breathy,

“Wait.”

“Please!” Steve hiccups, voice small and thready. He’s so close.

“You feel perfect, Steve,” James whispers, kissing the side of his head. “Feels so fucking good for me, inside of your body. D’you know that?” He rolls his hips deep and stays buried up in him, finally wraps his hand around Steve’s cock.

Steve sobs and thrashes against him. “Oh, please! Uhn, ah ah—”

“You beg so pretty, Honey.” James holds him tighter at the neck and strokes him off—so tight and slow. It’s so good, so close but not enough ...

“I–I need,” Steve gasps,

“Shshsh, I know, I know. You’re so close, aren’t you Baby?” James is hardly thrusting now, just grinding his cock inside Steve while he jerks him off. “So close,” he whispers. “You can almost taste it.” He flicks his tongue over the shell of Steve’s ear and Steve sobs.

He nods against the hand on his neck, relishing the way that he’s being held so tight, controlled so completely, coaxing words whispered right into his skin, working him closer and closer to the edge. Fuck, there really are tears in his eyes now. “P-please,” he begs wetly. “Oh.”

“It’s okay,” James coos, squeezing his cock even harder and going faster, knuckling under the head on every stroke. It’s enough, finally. Oh. “Let me feel you now, Honey. Right on my dick. Let Daddy feel it happen.”

It's that knuckle under the head that does it; that, and Bucky's voice purring reassuring filth in his ear. Steve grunts as his orgasm breaks inside, that high tide of pleasure finally tipping over and crashing so good that it hurts. “Oh, god, ohfuck ...” He seizes in James’ hold, voice sticking in his throat as he goes silent and shoots off hard, pulsing and pulsing with it. So fucking good.

James groans and curses beneath him. He wraps both of his huge arms around Steve’s middle and holds him like a sex doll while he ruts into him, chasing his own climax until he’s coming, too. He fucks him through it, until his cum is slipping back out around his slowing thrusts and his softening dick, their bodies messy and wet. “Fuck,” he pants hotly against the back of Steve’s neck. “Steve.”

Steve whines at the feeling when James pulls out, the rest of his cum following a second later. “Oh god. Ugh.”

James chuckles and moves him on the bed. He lies over him, one leg thrown over Steve’s and a hand cradling his face. "C'mere, you."

They kiss, long and slow, lips dragging softly together. James hums and speaks without pulling away. “Well, that was amazing.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs and rolls onto his back. “Come here. Put your head on my chest. Lemme hold you.”

Steve obeys, turning into James and wrapping an arm over his middle, while he thinks about the cum he can still feel leaking out of his ass.

He’d tried to stop it, had felt wrong going bare when they hadn’t talked it over first. He bites his lip, unsure how to say anything now without ruining the afterglow. Maybe he can’t.

“I love making love to you, Steve,” James says quietly, tracing fingertips along his spine. “You’re so beautiful. Perfect.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs back, smiling a little because he’s just been fucked probably better than he ever has in his whole entire life.

... Even if James did ignore him about the condom, it was still fucking amazing.

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Something Good (XXI)

Chapter 21 : In Heaven

Hello! Here is a new chapter for my Ben Barnes series!

Absolute fluffiness! I’ll give you a little bit of extra cuteness because we deal with serious stuff again ;)

Hope you like it!!! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff,  Slow burn, professor AU. No graphic depiction of nsfw content but… they’re making out… a lot… minors dni, thank you!

Summary: Coming out of a divorce and trying to get used to being a single mom, while teaching your classes at University, you thought your life could not get more complicated than it already is. But when you are asked to take care of the theatre club with the colleague that you really can’t get along with, you realize that everything can still get ten times more complicated in your life. And when you start actually liking Professor Barnes, the troubles only grow exponentially…

Word Count: 2453

Masterlist for the series – Ben Barnes’ Masterlist – Main Masterlist

You were not expecting for your relationship with Ben to get you in trouble at work.

As a matter of fact, as you stepped into the building on Monday morning, climbing up the stairs leading to your office, you were determined to keep your private life private. You would eat with Ben at lunch, and linger a little too long just to spend a little more time with him. And then you would go back to work. You would walk together to your cars, and perhaps you would allow him to steal a few kisses in the parking lot, leaning against your car, just like he had the previous week… but that would be all. You were a professional, and were perfectly capable of remaining one. His pheromones would not get the better of you.

Your respectable decision lasted a grand total of two hours. It disappeared the second your phone buzzed on your desk, and you saw Ben’s name appear on the screen.

Got a headache. Mind a coffee?

A thumb up was all you replied, jumping to your feet and hurrying outside…

You were finally telling yourself that you were ridiculous to be walking so fast down this corridor when you spotted Ben hurrying towards you, his glasses slightly lopsided on his nose, a grin on his lips.

You merely quickened your pace…

“Hi!” you breathed, standing before the open door of the cafeteria.

“Hi,” he smiled, his voice calmer than yours, but the same happiness shining through the warmth of his tone.

Grinning. That’s all both of you seemed able to do. Grinning like the two fools you were…

It lasted for a moment, spent merely staring, able to do nothing but to look into each other’s eyes, and to think that he truly looked adorable with his glasses, and that you looked absolutely lovely in this green pullover…

You were interrupted and pulled back to earth as one of your colleagues walked between the two of you to exit the cafeteria. You both looked away in a hurry, Ben’s cheeks growing crimson.

And then the conversation was started over the coffee machine. Smooth, fluid, natural, the way it always was with him. You both took your time to empty your cups, unwilling to part even just for a couple of hours. The last gulp of your coffee was cold, you didn’t mind.

But when you looked up, ready to go back to your office, to part ways for a handful of hours, you got caught in these dark eyes of his, the ones you couldn’t tell the borders of. And God, you wanted to kiss him so bad…

You weren’t sure what came over you when you asked your next question, the words changing as they formed on your tongue.

“Would you mind checking something with me for the theatre club?”

Ben raised a surprised eyebrow, a slight frown forming on his delicate features, but he smiled all the same.

“No, of course not. Let’s go to my office. It’ll be quieter to work.”

You nodded, clasping your hands together as you followed him, nerves tightening your throat…

Were you really about to do this? At work?! How old were you? Sixteen and full of hormones?

But then Ben opened his door, then closed it behind you, although it wasn’t locked. He turned to you, opening his mouth to speak. But he didn’t have time for a single word to pass his lips…

Instead, you were kissing him, his face in your palms and your fingers in his hair. It took him a couple of seconds to register what was happening, but as soon as the shock had passed, he was pulling you closer to him, and kissing you back.

He looked a little stunned when you eventually pulled away, glasses a little lopsided, a blur spot at the bottom of the right glass left by your forehead.

He cleared his throat, taking off the spectacles and putting them away on a nearby shelf.

“So… that was what you wanted to talk about?”

You bit down your lip, an adorable sight, he reckoned…

“I mean… I couldn’t simply tell you that I wanted to kiss you. Not in public, at least.”

He laughed at that, bright and earnest, coming straight from the heart.

“Should we make it some sort of code then? “Discussing theatre club matters” now means “snogging in my office”?”

You shied away, averting your eyes, and Ben laughed again, his chest still rumbling with laughter as he pressed his lips to your hairline.

“Relax. I wanted to kiss you too.”

“Really?”

“I always want to kiss you. One of your many annoying traits...”

You giggled at that, wrapping your arms around him to hold him into a hug, your head resting on his shoulder now.

And God, that scent… oud, citrus, cinnamon and something impossibly him…

“You’re too handsome. That is an annoying trait of yours,” you countered, feeling his smile against your hair.

“Well… thank you, darling.”

“God, I really like that.”

“Darling?”

“Hmmm… it’s nice to be called like that again.”

When you looked up at him, it was only to capture his lips with yours once more. If the kiss started slow and tender, it quickly got a little out of hand. But then again, you only had one step to take to press him against the door, it was so easy…

You groaned when Ben pulled away, ready to pull him down to you again, but he merely locked the door before his eyes were on you again.

You had barely registered what was happening that Ben was lifting you up from the ground. As a reflex, you wrapped your legs around his waist, although you had no doubt he wouldn’t let you fall. But then again, it made you be closer to him…

He gently put you down on the edge of his desk, blindly pushing away pencils, notebooks, books and sheets of paper to make more room for you. The piles fell on the ground in a thud.

You looked at the mess with a raised eyebrow, and Ben seized the occasion to assault your neck with his teeth and tongue.

You blinked, moving your head back to give him better access and you forced out a breathy whisper.

“We’re making a mess.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, biting gently at your pulse, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes at the feeling.

“You’re sure?”

“I could not care less…”

He looked at you again when you chuckled.

“I’m making you messy!”

He grinned, gently brushing his nose against yours, your breaths mingling in the small space between you…

“I like it. I like you.”

You weren’t sure when he lost his pullover, or when the buttons of his shirt were undone, or when you found yourself without a camisole. It didn’t really matter.

“We can’t do this at work,” you shook your head, breathless, trying to calm down, although Ben’s hands travelling across your ribs didn’t help in the slightest.

“No one would know,” he whispered into your ear, unbearably tempting. “Damn, I want you so bad…”

You had to stop him when you felt him unclasping your bra, gently pushing on his shoulders, shaking your head.

“I can’t do this…”

Slowly, he nodded, and if you could have made out his pupils from his irises, you would have noticed how dilated they were. But he still took a few deep breaths, and a step back.

“You’re right,” he nodded. “This is… pure madness.”

“Yeah, and illegal, I bet.”

“Probably.”

“We would commit a crime. I could go to prison.”

The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I highly doubt you would be sent to jail for having sex in my office, but we could probably get fired.”

“Yeah… and that would be bad.”

“Terrible, actually.”

“So, we should stop, and get back to work.”

Slowly, Ben nodded.

“Or we could put our clothes back on, and kiss some more, and snog for a while.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“Or we could snog, without putting our clothes back on.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan.”

“Yeah…”

“Yeah…”

It took a grand total of 28 seconds before the rest of the paperwork splayed on Ben’s desk was scattered on the ground, and Ben’s hand was trembling as he turned his computer screen to make more room for you. When he unclasped your bra, this time around, you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t stop him at all, instead, you merely laid back and grinned as he followed you down, bent over you…

“Now, be honest with me: how many chocolates did you eat?”

Ben let out a bright laugh, shaking his head, and yet, despite the slight blur of his image on the screen, you didn’t fail to notice the way he blushed.

It was a little strange to see him in his childhood’s bedroom. Mostly kept unchanged, as he didn’t fail to tell you, and to give you a little tour. Nothing too embarrassing though, just an awful lot of Queen and Bowie posters.

You also caught sight of a picture of him when he was 16 and you would never let him live this down…

“Too many, probably… but they were very tasty!” he argued.

“Hmmm… so much for being a responsible adult during the holidays!”

“Aren’t you supposed to go buy a gift for you mom? 48 hours before Christmas?”

“Shut up.”

He laughed at that, bright and loud, and filling up the space between your molecules with warmth.

“Is your brother as annoying as you expected?” you asked, raising your head as you heard some noise coming from the corridor.

“Oh, yes! You have no idea. I’m considering asking my parents to disown me so I don’t have to ever see his face again.”

You smiled fondly at the screen.

“So, you still adore him.”

“More than ever, sadly.”

You exchanged an amused smile, before the padding of feet across the floor made you look up from the phone again. You smiled at your daughter as she appeared, her hair a little dishevelled, her favourite super hero t-shirt on.

“Who’s on the phone, mommy?”

“It’s Ben, honey! Do you want to say hello, angel?”

She beamed.

“BEN!”

She rushed to you, making you laugh, and you secured her landing on the sofa by your side as she jumped.

“Hi, meerkat!” Ben grinned, waving at your daughter as soon as she appeared.

“Hi, Ben!” the small girl waved too. “Are you in London?”

“Yeah, I’m at my parents’.”

“Did you see your mommy and your daddy?”

“Hmm hmm,” he nodded. “They’re just fine.”

“When are you coming back?”

“In a week. I’m staying with my parents for Christmas.”

Slowly she nodded.

“Christmas is better with your mommy,” she agreed, making you chuckle.

“Indeed!”

“When you come back, can we go back to the zoo? Because they have a new snake!”

He chuckled fondly.

“Sure, if your mom is up for it, then so am I.”

Sally turned hopeful eyes towards you, and you nodded.

“Sure, we can go there before the end of the holidays.”

“YES!”

She did an adorable happy dance, before starting to babble away about her afternoon with her grandmother.

But she was interrupted by a knocking sound on Ben’s end.

“I’m sorry, ladies! I need to go, my mom is calling for me,” he explained, waving at the two of you. “Have a nice evening!”

“But I didn’t finish my story…”

“You can tell him the rest tomorrow, angel, Ben needs to go,” you told her gently, before waving at Ben.

“Bye, have a nice evening with your family!”

“Thanks, darling. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!”

You ended the call as Sally was protesting some more, and Ben couldn’t refrain the fond smile that tugged at his lips as he got up and walked outside his bedroom…

…to fall face to face with his brother and mother.

“Who were you talking to?” Jack asked with a frown.

“You called her ‘darling’! Are you seeing someone?” his mother asked, excitement audible in her voice.

Ben heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes.

“I am not talking about this with you, guys.”

“You know, if you need any advice…”

“No! Mom! No advice!”

“I’m a professional!”

“I know, and I am not your patient.”

“I know. You’re my son. That’s why I’m not making you pay for my wisdom.”

“How generous…”

“Don’t try to change the subject!” admonished Jack. “Who were you on the phone with?”

“A friend.”

“A friend? Or a girlfriend?”

“Shut up, Jack! Ha! Dad! Please, tell them to stop pestering me with questions!”

“Who’s pestering you?” asked Thomas, looking at his family entering the living room, looking up over his spectacles from his crosswords.

“Take a guess.”

“I am not contradicting your mother over whatever she has decided to bother you with.”

“Thank you, love!”

“Dad,” Jack chimed in. “Ben has a girlfriend!”

The newspaper was discarded in the blink of an eye.

“Really?!”

“Why are you all acting like it’s something unbelievable? Thanks for boosting my confidence,” Ben mumbled, moody.

“For how long have you been together? What’s her name? How do you know her?” his brother bombarded him with questions.

“Stop it! It’s nothing…”

He was going to say it was nothing serious, but it would have been too much of a lie. He bit his tongue.

“It’s brand new. Nothing to get overexcited about.”

“How long is brand new?”

“A little over a week?”

“And you’re already spending hours on the phone?”

“Twenty-five minutes,” Ben rolled his eyes. “And we were friends before deciding to give this a try. So, it’s not that strange… Besides… I missed her…”

“Oh. My. God. You’re in love with her!”

“I’ve just told you, it’s been a week! Calm down!”

“Who is she?! We need to know everything, honey! Sit down, please!” Tricia insisted.

“There’s nothing to tell, we’ve been on two dates, relax!”

“And that’s all you needed to fall for her? Like…”

But then the light of realization shone through Jack’s features.

“Holy shit! That’s the girl you brought to the Halloween party! Your colleague!”

“The cute woman with the witch outfit?” Thomas asked, and Ben grew suddenly very confused.

“How do you know about that?”

“Is it her? Am I right?” Jack insisted.

Ben heaved a sigh.

“Yeah, it’s her.”

“I knew it! I knew you had feelings for her!”

Ben rolled his eyes again, blushing fiercely.

“Right, I have a girlfriend, it’s nothing extraordinary, really. Calm down…”

But when Tricia held his hand, her eyes were glimmering.

“I’m so glad you’re finally moving forward…”

********************************

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