#[ close the curtains folks i finally got to use that joke ]

[highqueenofelfhame]

fafs, twenty four

so i was definitely going to wait to post this until tomorrow or the day after but then decided to say fuck it and in the spirit of rowaelin month am just giving it to you now, whatever. who needs rules. or regulations. not me.

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It was nowhere near the worst injury she’d ever had, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant.

The living room floor of one of her smaller sanctuaries had been turned into a makeshift operating room. A trash bag was laid out beneath her, rustling with every move she made. The first aid kit that had been untouched and hidden under the kitchen sink was open with all its pieces scattered around her. A brand new bottle of vodka sat to her right, several shots worth already buzzing through her veins. It would take at least one more swig before she got started, but it was already difficult to slide the thread into the needle, so she was holding off until she was just about ready to begin.

Gods damn the agent that shot her. Aelin would bet money that it was Remelle, the blonde bitch that had been pawing at Rowan for years. Before, when she was Lilian, she’d heard a wide array of stories about the woman and her unwanted advances. Ever since Aelin had been introduced to the FBI as a criminal informant, she had shot daggers at her in every meeting, likely angry Aelin was spending so much time with Rowan. Despite how much of that time was angry banter from Rowan, no matter if Aelin was trying to thaw out his icy inner and exterior.

None of that mattered now. She could have Rowan if she really wanted him. Maybe they were already together and--

Aelin stopped those thoughts in their tracks, eyes focusing on the task at hand. There were bigger things to worry about, like getting out of the city and, most importantly, the bleeding wound on her thigh. She chewed on her lip until the thread finally made it into the curved needle, and she held back a cheer as she sloshed some vodka over the wound on her thigh. Hissing through her teeth, she thanked the gods that it wasn’t any worse.

It wasn’t even that bad, considering everything else she’d experienced. There was the time Arobynn had stabbed a dagger through her palm, and she’d had to stitch up the injury herself. She wasn’t sure how many times she’d been sliced and jabbed in training. Her list of broken bones and scars was a long one. Once she got older and was better at her job than all of the men combined, training had become more of a game of survival. They had been out for blood, shedding hers in red tears on the floor until she managed to incapacitate them enough to claim the victory for herself.

This gunshot wound was minor. It hadn’t nicked anything major, and it had taken a while for Aelin to realize she’d even been shot. The adrenaline from running from the full force of the FBI had been enough to repel the pain until she was nearly to her safehouse. She was four blocks away when she realized her pace was slowing and that there was a sharp, hot pain throbbing in her left thigh. A glance down told her everything she needed to know. She had limped straight through the front door and to the first aid kit, where she now prepared to stitch her own leg up.

At one point, there had been a numbing agent in this bag, but she remembered using it on Sam after a nasty fight with Arobynn one night when she was twenty-one. Since then, she’d seldom been to this safehouse and had neglected to restock her kit. There was barely enough of the nylon thread left over, but she would manage. Aelin made a mental note to have someone, either Nox or herself, replenish the missing items.

With a deep breath and a final swig of vodka, she picked up the forceps and shimmied the tension from her shoulders while she hunched over her leg, ready to begin.

With the first stick and the drag of the thread through her skin, Aelin bit her lip so hard she drew blood. It was a bizarre and uncomfortable feeling accompanied by a slight burning sensation. Several times she groaned while she sewed her skin back together. By the time she was finished, her mouth tasted metallic, and the trash bag beneath her was covered in droplets of blood. Her bare thigh looked grim and would leave behind a jagged, ugly scar, but she doused it once more in vodka before wiping away the blood with a damp piece of gauze. Her hands were mostly steady while she placed a bandage over the top and taped it down.

It was just another painful memory that would soon fade to silvery skin. How many more would it take until she was free?

Shaking her head to pull her from any thoughts too negative to deal with right now, Aelin smiled a bit. She was almost pleased with herself for handling the entire situation so well, but the reality of the situation was soon to crash down on her. It didn’t take long for her to get up, going about the tiny house and jerking all the curtains closed. Hardly any natural light was able to filter in through the gaps in the curtains for how tightly she’d twisted at the blinds until they were sealed completely shut. Thumbtacks were shoved into the walls to keep anyone curious from peering inside. She would move to another place in a day or two, she promised herself, after she had time to dye her hair and her wound wasn’t so fresh.

Every lock on every door was twisted into place-- seven locks on both the front and back doors. Only two of those locks could be opened with a key from the outside. The other five were inside only, a variation of deadbolts and chain locks that made her feel secure.

Only when she was satisfied that she was as safe for the time being did she go to the single bedroom and lock the door behind her. In a handful of heartbeats, she collapsed on the old quilt and drifted into a fitful sleep.

~*~

The news that it would take weeks, maybe months, of physical therapy to have his shoulder back to one-hundred percent was irritating to say the least. Rowan would be out of work for a while, but that wasn’t the most frustrating part of the situation. He would be wearing the restrictive sling for weeks, only to take it off when he changed clothes or showered. They didn’t even allow him to take it off to sleep, for gods’ sake. Rowan would be sleeping sitting up for the foreseeable future, and he was fucking annoyed about it.

The last few nights sleeping in the hospital had been anything but fruitful. Not only was he woken by the nurses coming in to check on him every few hours, every single time he tried to adjust to a more comfortable position, he was reminded of the sling. The pain was nearly suffocating. Rowan had heard from Fenrys about how bad shoulder injuries were, but this was on another level of anything he had ever experienced.

So why he was standing in the abandoned apartment of the woman who had shot the bullet through it in the first place was beyond him at the moment.

It wasn’t the apartment littered with cameras and paid for by the bureau. It was the one she’d lived in privately before her beating and arrest. It was the one decorated with opulence and taste. With artwork that wouldn’t surprise Rowan to find it had been stolen and was priceless. The one with books stacking shelves every which way, those novels bookmarked and annotated, as he had just learned. Like she loved them so much, she couldn’t help but document her favorite and least favorite parts.

The linens closet was filled with the softest blankets and nicest sheets Rowan had ever felt in his life. Silk sheets were currently stretched over the mattress in her bedroom, a thing that Rowan had thought she’d quipped as a joke once.

“Sorry, the sheets aren’t Egyptian cotton for whatever the hell you’re used to,” he’d said, a bite in his tone as he showed her the dump of an apartment the bureau had decided on for her.

“Silk,” she winked. “Feels good against my skin when I sleep naked.”

It hadn’t been a joke. He ran his fingers over the fabric and almost smiled at the memory but forced his lips into a frown instead. As he looked around the room, the nearly ostentatious yet somehow tasteful room, he missed her. He hated himself for it, but he missed her. The woman had shot him through the shoulder, but the pain in his heart was somehow worse. His first thought when he woke in the hospital from surgery had been about if they’d found her and she was safe, gods above. Everything about himself was secondary, and he didn’t really care.

But they hadn’t found her. There was no trace of her after her anklet was cut. Nobody had seen her; traffic cams had stopped picking her up like she had just… vanished. He hated that she was so good at her job, so good at being a criminal.

Deep down, Rowan knew that wasn’t what bothered him. It never really had. There wasn’t a part of her soul that he had seen and didn’t understand or want to love. Nothing she had ever done had pushed him away in the slightest. Her honesty about her life and the vulnerability she had shown him only made him respect and love her more.

He wasn’t mad that she shot him. Was he annoyed that he couldn’t use his arm? Of course. But he understood. Rowan understood that she felt backed into a corner and betrayed, and she went into fight or flight mode. In this case, it had been fight and flight. He had stepped too close and got shot in return. It was fair. She was used to fighting her way out of situations, so of course, it was the route she’d taken.

He just wanted her to slip up for once so he could just find her and talk to her. Figure out whatever the hell was going on when they’d argued before she shot him, then disappeared in the middle of the day in a bustling city. Rowan wasn’t even mad that she hadn’t been caught. In fact, he was glad they hadn’t caught her.

Rowan didn’t want her to be found. The full force of the FBI would rain down on her like a hurricane and she would be shown no mercy. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted her suffering in an interrogation room, throwing around the word allegedly like she used to throw daggers. For her to be thrown back in that dismal jail cell awaiting a death sentence that almost assuredly awaited her for what happened at the bureau.

But he was still frustrated as all hell that he couldn’t find her now, no matter how much he didn’t want her rotting in prison on the outskirts of the city.

It was while he stood with his fingers running over the silk of her sheets that he heard the jingling of keys at her front door. It was surprising, considering he’d had to pick several locks to get up here in the first place. Rowan flattened his body against the bedroom wall, listening to the front door open and close.

The footsteps that followed weren’t Aelin’s, though. They were a little louder, carrying a larger and heavier body. Rowan moved to stand in the doorway, startling the man in the center of the room. He dropped the bag he was carrying, swearing loudly as he bent to pick it back up.

“Gods above, Suit,” he murmured, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter. “What are you doing here? Getting something for Celaena?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Rowan inquired, noting that the bag he carried contained nothing of real importance. If anything, it looked like a combination of garden tools and art supplies.

“I think I stashed something here if we’re being candid and off the record, which I would very much appreciate if we were, by the way. I’ve come to collect.” Haversham -- Rowan still didn’t know the man’s real name -- began digging around Aelin’s bookshelves, looking behind and even inside some of her books that turned out not to be books at all. They looked like books, but when opened in the middle were hidden pockets. Some were empty; some weren’t. Rowan noticed a few that had different bits of identification tucked away. None of that seemed to be what Haversham looked for as he simply closed them and put them back on the shelves.

“Where is she?” Rowan finally asked, a little boldly.

“Can’t you check that fancy anklet you have her wearing and figure it out? I haven’t seen her in a week. She isn’t calling me back, either, so when you do see her, can you tell her that I…” The man trailed off after looking up from his search and seeing Rowan’s face. Rowan’s hard, unyielding face and the concern that was likely etched in his features. The wrinkle between his brow, the stiff way he held his lips. Haversham’s head tilted curiously.

“Holy gods, did she make a run for it?”

“Something happened at the bureau. I can’t find her. Neither can they. But I need to talk to her. I can’t help her otherwise.”

“Do you want to help her?” The sound that came from Rowan was nearly a growl, and Haversham retreated a step with his hands raised defensively. “Look, I’m just saying. She wouldn’t make a run for it unless it was something serious and you’re incapacitated at the moment. Which leads me to believe that she did it; otherwise, you wouldn’t be hurt at all. Celaena wouldn’t let somebody hurt you. So either you really fucked up--”

“I did, but only by not protecting her and defending her when it mattered.”

Haversham twisted his mouth to the side while he gave Rowan a hard once-over. It was like he was assessing everything he knew about his character while deciding if he would help him or not. There was a prolonged silence that made Rowan want to throw something at the man, but he waited it out.

“I’m only going to help you because you make her happy. And I don’t mean superficially. I mean that for the first time in the eight years I’ve known her, she’s been happier and more alive than I’ve ever seen her. I know she trusted you more than she’s ever trusted anyone else. More than me, which doesn’t say much considering I think she trusts me as far as she can throw me. But she trusts you more than Sam even.” Finally, he ripped a page from one of the books and began to scrawl across the page until it was nearly full. When he handed it to Rowan, he realized it was a collection of addresses. Some were in the city; some were in other countries. Some were a handful of hours of a drive into nowhere. One was practically around the corner from where they were now.

“What is this?”

“Safehouses. Those are the ones I know about. Celaena has… a lot of secrets. I don’t know even half of them. I have my suspicions about a lot of shit, but I’m letting her come to me with it when she’s ready. So I don’t know all of her safehouses, but I know those ones. Those are the ones she’s let me use in times of trouble. That’s the only help I can really offer you besides calling if I hear from her.”

“Thank you,” Rowan said softly, and he meant it. It was the biggest and only lead that he had on her whereabouts, and even if she wasn’t crashing on a bed in any of these places, it was a start. It was the only hope he had so far that maybe, just maybe… he might find her.

~*~

Rowan had decided to start on the outside and work his way in, and it was wasting a lot of time. Everyone he was friendly with at the bureau was constantly calling and texting to see how he was doing, asking what he was up to. Fenrys told him he’d stopped by his apartment a few times this week, and he hadn’t been home. Rowan replied, saying he was just taking some time to himself, which seemed to satisfy the man, and that had been that.

In reality, Rowan had been in Terrasen trying to find Aelin. She wasn’t in either of the two listed near the border of Adarlan, so now he was slowly working his way back toward Rifthold. It just didn’t seem likely for her to be hiding somewhere in the city, not when she would have to leave for food and other necessities at some point. So he’d gone as far out as he could before making his way back. So far, it had turned up nothing. Both of the cabins he’d visited in the woods had seen better days and likely hadn’t seen Aelin in years.

He was driving toward his fourth destination now, so deep in Oakwald, he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t back in Terrasen at this point. The location pinged on the Adarlanian side of the border, but he had little hope of actually finding her. There were only two safehouses left on the list, and both of them were in the city itself. Would he still check them? Of course. But did he think that she was stupid enough to be there? Absolutely not.

The energy of the place was different as soon as he made it up the drive. Halfway up, a gate that covered the driveway, and Rowan had to abandon his car and hop the fence. It was a bit of a feat, as it was taller than him, and he only had one good arm to use, but he managed. Even if it had taken him three times as long as it usually would have. Feet pounding down against the dirt so hard it caused a small cloud, he proceeded up toward the small cottage with a little more confidence than he’d had the rest of the drive.

Smoke was wafting from the chimney, and a dim glow flickered in the window. The window that a lithe body stood in, peering through the curtains and backlit by the fire. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew it was Aelin, knew he’d been spotted, and knew she was watching. How she had known he’d arrived, he wasn’t sure. Being overcautious her entire life likely meant that there were tripwires that alerted her of his presence somewhere on the driveway.

As he got closer, she disappeared, and the curtains slipped back into place. When he got to the door, he reached out but hesitated for a moment. Aelin clearly didn’t want to be found and was clearly mad at him. What if she did worse than she had the last time they’d seen each other? Part of him thought she wouldn’t, but he hadn’t ever thought she would shoot him, either. Rowan wasn’t sure how many times she had told him she hated guns, but desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.

It took more courage than he cared to admit to turn the knob. Much to his surprise, the door opened, and he slipped inside, shutting it behind him quietly. To be frank, Rowan couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to find her at all, much less on a list of places that Haversham managed to remember.

As his eyes adjusted to the room, he saw Aelin sitting across the room with a bottle of rum in one hand, balanced on her thigh. She was slumped down a bit in the chair; her hair dyed a muddy reddish-brown color. A dagger was in her other hand, being twisted in circles against her bare leg. Rowan wanted to tell her to stop, that she would hurt herself, but faster than he could register, she was moving. He was stunned further into silence by the whistling of the wind and the slight breeze by his ear. A loud thud had him whipping around to the door.

Embedded in the wood, millimeters from where his head had just been, was the dagger she’d been holding, and when he looked back at Aelin, she was smirking.

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen. 

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error. 

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully. 

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering. 

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice. 

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter. 

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?” 

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle. 

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless. 

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.” 

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask. 

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper. 

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly. 

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space. 

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?” 

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven. 

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.” 

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do. 

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about. 

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper. 

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.” 

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer. 

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject. 

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine. 

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk. 

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows. 

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth. 

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide. 

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers. 

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

[alreadyblondenow]

My best friend, my p*rn 

▸Johnny x camgirl!reader (cam girl au, best friends to lovers) ▸ 2,103k words ▸ Fluff, Smut ▸ Cam girl reader, prostitution, online bidding, heavy making out, lots of kissing, lots of touching, fingering, mentions of oral sex male receiving, oral sex female receiving, mentions of sex  ▸ Requested, see anon message at the end of this drabble. 

Being a cam girl is something you’re not proud of but it pays the bills and puts food on the table. Bringing pleasure to other people is not the best idea but you kinda like what you do and it’s like living a double life where in reality you’re this simple college student but when you’re live or on-air, you’re very popular that girls and boys beg for you.

Of course, the only person you trust knowing your double life is your best friend Johnny, whom you don’t is madly and deeply in love with you ever since the two of you became close friends. When you told him that you’re a cam girl, Johnny supported you all the way and became a regular to the point that he has become your anonymous generous tipper.

“User chicag0127 is being generous again- wow. I’m speechless. Thank you”

Tonight is kind of a special broadcast because you hit 100k followers and you have a surprise for everyone. “To celebrate our first milestone, I’m gonna hold an auction online, the highest bidder will be featured two times during my live stream this month....”

Upon hearing what you’re saying right now, Johnny cannot believe what has gotten into your head. Then he remembered, you were three semesters late on your tuition and the school might not let you graduate. “Fuck- you could end up with a creep! Fuck- Savings savings” he was quick to check his savings and easily closed the deal with you. He was sweating the entire time, scared that maybe the next higher bidder next to him might win you, but Johnny was successful.

“Sorry folks, but as expected, user chicag0127 is the higher bidder. I guess you will see us on my next live then!...”

After your live stream, you are more than thankful for chicag0127. The money went straight to your college tuition and now you can relax and not worry about the school holding you up for graduation. That night, you told Johnny what happened through text and waited for his reply before you go to bed.

You: were graduating together! That user that I was telling you, just covered my whole tuition.

The smile on Johnny’s face and the happiness that he felt was priceless, knowing that he could help his true love.

Johnny: Why didn’t you come to me in the first place? You know that I have money saved from my internship right? And idk where to spend it haha!

He jokes so he won’t sound suspicious.

You: it’s your money Johnny, you earned that because you worked hard during your internship.

And that night, you slept like a baby knowing that all is well.

One week later

You were sitting on the edge of the bed wearing only your silk robe and nothing else underneath. Any minute now, user chicag0127 will arrive and you're very much excited to meet your anonymous bidder. When the doorbell rang, you opened the door with a flirty smile that’s replaced with a confused expression when you see Johnny in front of you.

He was quiet. He was waiting for you to realize.

Then....

“Y-you’re”

“chicag0127”

“R-right... because you’re from Chicago and you’re Korean... fuck- I mean, come in, welcome. D-do you want coffee?”

Johnny went inside the hotel room quietly and without saying a word. To be honest, he didn’t know what to do too, like you, he’s confused and nervous. But would you rather see a stranger? So he balled up his courage and confronted you.

“You sit on my lap whenever I’m busy playing games on my phone, kiss me good morning whenever we have sleepovers, heck I already saw you naked because you don’t close your room whenever you dress up and you will say it’s completely fine-“ he breathes heavily and combs his black hair with his fingers, “I don’t understand why are you like this all of a sudden. I can leave you, know? But you can't disappoint your fans”

“Right we cant” you don’t know why Johnny feels like he’s a stranger now but you suck it up and remind yourself that Johnny paid for this. “You paid for this” you added while fluffing the pillow.

“Hey. I did not do it because I want to take advantage of you I did it because you could end up with a pervert a drug addict or an abuser” he points his fingers at you and sat on the bed with a heavy sigh.

“You’ve been tipping me for months!” You bite back, “Fine-Okay okay I get it. Uhm... wear this they can only see our lips, bodies, and not our faces” you hand him the silk mask that’s similar to what you’re using.

“This is our first day so kissing and touching only no more, no less,” you said, and upon explaining the instructions to Johnny, he proceeds to strip in front of you. Unbuttoning his dress shirt and looking so hot like he always does. You gulp when he’s only wearing his black pants in front of you, ready to remove his belt and his pants.

“On the second day, oral sex, however you like it. 69, blow job in the shower, anything then that’s it-oh and one more important thing. No talking you can whisper and make sounds but no talking for your safety. People might recognize you”

After explaining what’s needed, you dimmed the lights, closed the curtains, and setup the camera.“The live will automatically stop in thirty minutes”

“So we can kiss and touch for a whole thirty minutes?” He asked.

“Yes”

“I paid all my savings and thirty minutes is all I get?” He murmurs but you didn’t hear it. You pat the space on the bed next to you as you wait for the live to start automatically in five minutes. When he’s right beside you, waiting for your next move the room is cold and silent as he watches you remove your silk robe. He has seen your boobs far too many times, but this time it’s special like he’s seeing it for the first time again. ‘I'm sorry, he mouthed’ thinking maybe this is hard for you because you’re best friends.

‘It's okay,’ you mouth back because you would rather be with Johnny than a creep.

Slowly your faces move closer until your lips touch but not kissing yet. Johnny gave you a peck as if he’s testing the waters, then gave you another but this time it’s longer, and then another but this time his hand cups your face. It was a filthy kiss and you didn’t expect that Johnny is a good kisser. His tongue is sinful in so many ways. The way it swirls around your tongue, whenever he sucks your tongue leaves you breathless, his grip on your face is getting tighter and you feel his cock poking your thigh.

So with all your bravery, you put your hand inside his boxers briefs and palmed his cock while he kisses you. Slowly, he began to start touching you softly, running his fingers on your shoulders to your nipples until you shiver at his touch, making you stop kissing him and bite your lower lip. Johnny is amused and happy because you like what he’s doing to you.

While kneading your boobs, he started kissing you on your neck, licking you like you’re his favorite ice cream, and doing soft moaning sounds. He kissed you all over your body, making you feel loved and protected by him as always.

“Is this fine?” He whispered oh so quiet beside your ear and slowly run his finger on your very wet slit. Johnny’s finger slides up very smoothly because of your juices, he got excited because he can make you wet like this. You nod your head ‘yes’ and spread your legs a little more for Johnny and the viewers and with that, he finger fucked you before he ran out of time. Feeling his thick fingers go inside and outside of your cunt slowly. It feels so fucking good.

“Ten minutes” you whispered and kissed him again. You feel his smile in between kissing while he feels you getting near because you’ve clenching and unclenching around his finger.

The alarm on your live started beeping and the live is automatically cut off.

No one stopped when the live was over. You kept kissing Johnny and Johnny made you cum using his fingers. When you finally calmed down, Johnny kept you close and apologized. Until now he doesn’t know if you’re doing this with him because you’re actually loving it, or you’re doing this because he paid for it.

“Warm bath?” He offered.

You giggle and hugged him back like you used to, “we didn’t have sex you jerk.... but sounds good”

He gets out of bed and effortlessly scoops you from your comfort and brought you to the bathroom. The shower with Johnny turned every awkward situation around because he made you laugh the whole time you two were taking a shower. Singing different songs and thinking of what you should eat for dinner.

The next day, you and Johnny are laying in bed together enjoying the quietness of the hotel room like you guys did not do something filthy last night. Lips on your forehead hands at the back of your head, you hear his steady heartbeat and you’re actually happy that he is the one who did it.

You’re not with user chicag0127, you’re with Johnny. Things might take time but what he’s doing for you is heartwarming and stupid all the same time.

Second day

Johnny had a few ideas for day two. For starters, he really wanted to fuck your mouth and cum inside it. But it doesn’t feel right doing it to you, he loves you way too much for a thousand people see him do that to you. So he decided he’ll just tire you out the whole thirty minutes.

Your legs are perfectly spread and Johnny’s fingers spread your pussy lips as he licks up and down on your slit. It’s been a good twenty minutes already and your legs feel like jelly after cumming two times. When he felt your legs shaking and you’re breathing heavily, he stopped and kissed you all the way until he reaches your lips and automatically cups your boobs. You feel his very hard cock poking your thigh like he’s going to put it inside you any minute.

Surprisingly, you feel the tip of his head glide on your slit and you gave him a push as a warning but your strength is nothing compared to Johnny’s. “I will not put it in. Trust me on this” he whispered to you.

Nervous, but his lips calmed you in an instant, you trusted Johnny with his plan and let him do whatever he wants.

He continued to grind and gliding his cock on your wet slit and you are very thankful that you trusted him. You smile when he rolls his hips, you grip Johnny’s shoulders when you started being sensitive and then you don’t know what has gotten into you but you rolled your hips and put his head inside your cunt. You kissed him as you grind underneath him and he did not expect that from you.

He noticed you’re liking it too much, so he stopped then the alarm beeps and you thought he was regretting it. You let out a heavy sigh and covered yourself with the thick sheets, avoiding Johnny’s gaze.

“I stopped because I didn’t want any cameras involved when we do it”

Johnny started kissing your exposed shoulder, your neck, and your lips until he earns a smile from you. “let's go out on a date. A proper date. I’ve been always in love with y/n, and I’m sorry we have to get to this part first. I’m sorry for lying. I’m sorry for using your work to express my feelings to you”

The way Johnny confessed to you is something you will never forget. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more so there's no harm in giving this a chance. You kissed him and invited him under the covers with you, “Let’s have a house date, we can cook. No more expensive stuff please, you’ve given so much money for the past few months” you rake your fingers through his hair and boops his noise.

“Anything for you” he smiled and reached for your lips again.

That night, you and Johnny stayed in the hotel bed and ordered ramen for dinner.

↩︎prev next▶︎

Hello!!! I hope you love this because I enjoyed making this to the point that I want it to be a full fic but I dont have the time yet :( thank you for requesting! 

[redpandaramblings]

Sweet Treats  Sero Hanta x F!Reader Birthday fic.

Happy birthday, @reinawritesbnha!!!  Wanted to write you a silly little fic that I hope you enjoy.

Content Warnings:-  Not SFW situations, cake destruction, nudity, crude humor, Mineta mention, awkward situations, mentions of food, mentions of drinking, probably incorrect Spanish, aged up characters.

Spanish translations are provided at the very bottom of the fic.  I suggest waiting to look them up to avoid spoilers.

Y/n protested playfully as her friend dragged her towards the well known restaurant.  “Come on, this place is too fancy.  Pro heroes eat here!  There’s no way we’re getting in without a reservation.”

Her friend laughed, continuing to lead her towards the door.  “One, it’s not too fancy for your birthday.  Two, we do have a reservation!  It’s a weekday, so it actually wasn’t too difficult to get in.  Sucks a little that we can’t party as hard, but we get to celebrate on your actual birthday, so it all works out!  Now come on!  Everyone else is inside already getting everything set up.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but followed along without further protest.  She really had wanted to go here.  They served some of her favorite foods, and had fabulous service by all reports.  The place was really popular with the pro hero set because of their discretion and their private rooms.  Y/n hoped to maybe catch a glimpse of one of her favorites, but honestly, chances were slim.

Without any fuss, a waiter took their names and escorted them to their reserved private room.  A cheer greeted them as they walked in.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!!!!”

“Let’s get this party started!”

And get started they did.  Drinks were served and food orders were placed.  Laughter and conversation bubbled around.  Someone pulled out Cards Against Humanity and everyone was cackling and cracking jokes, trying to find the most inappropriate answers to all the prompts.  The fun is briefly interrupted as someone knocks on the door.  A few waitstaff wheel in a covered table holding a rather large cake.  They place it in a good position before bowing and hurrying out.

One of y/n’s friends stands and walks over to it, brows furrowed in confusion.  “This doesn’t look like what we ordered…  It’s way too big.” They murmured.  “What we wanted shouldn’t need it’s own table…”  They rapped their knuckles on the table a few times to emphasize their point.

Suddenly it was like the cake exploded upward.  Flecks of frosting scattered about the room as first a brunet head, then a muscular torso came into view.  Shapely arms pose into a flexing position.  A masculine voice booms “Congrats on making the top…  fifty….”  His voice trailed off as he took in the shocked expressions of everyone in the room.  “Youuuu are not Denki.”

Y/n shook her head as she tried very hard to keep her gaze above his waist level.  A man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked pro hero that she happened to have a massive crush on had just jumped out of her cake.  Y/n discretely pinched herself on the thigh.  Yep, it hurt.  Which means Sero Hanta was currently naked in the same room as her, his very nice looking cock covered in cake and cream.  She snapped her gaze back upward as the blushing hero began muttering to himself, clearly on the verge of a panic attack. 

“That was…  The knocks were the cue…  I mean…”

The hero sank to his knees, the messy remains of the box and cake giving him a little bit of privacy.   

“Mi vida se acabó.  Me acurrucaré en este pastel y moriré ahora.  Puedo ver los titulares.  El héroe profesional Cellophane encontrado desnudo y muerto en un pastel.”

Y/n quickly stood up, hurrying over to where the leftover party supplies were.  Luckily, there was a leftover tablecloth, since the restaurant had supplied their own.  She cautiously walked back over to Sero, holding out the tablecloth.

“Hey, it’s alright.  Promise.  Want to cover up with this?”

Sero blinked a few times, taking several deep breaths before he nodded, reaching out and taking the tablecloth.  He hurriedly wrapped it around himself, recovering some of his modesty.  “Gracias.  Lo siento.  I must have been wheeled into the wrong room.”  

Y/n nodded as one of her friends brought Sero a drink to help calm him down.  “Want us to get some staff or find your friends?  I don’t think you want to wear a tablecloth the rest of the night, though it is a rather bold fashion statement.”

Sero closed his eyes, taking a gulp of his drink as he thought for a moment.  “Flag down some staff, but ask them to bring Kirishima here?  He should have my clothes.”

“No need to get dressed on our account!”  One of y/n’s friends chirped.

“In fact we could strip if you want.  Make it all an equal playing field.”  Another friend said as they headed out the door in search of someone to help them.

Y/n buried her face in her hands and groaned.  “I’m going to murder you all.  No court would convict me.  Murder is legal on your birthday, right?”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?”  For the first time since he popped out of the cake, Hanta took his time to actually look around the room.  Black, white, and yellow balloons hung in the corners.  Crepe paper twisted around the edges of the room.  Some presents were piled in one corner.  “Oh Dios Mio, it’s your birthday.  My naked ass ruined your birthday.”

“Not ruined.”  Y/n chuckled, dropping her hands so she could look Sero in the eyes.  “Unexpected for sure.  You’ve definitely made this the most exciting birthday I’ve had.  Will be telling the story for years.  The time I accidentally got a naked man for my birthday.”

Sero raised his eyebrows.  “Not gonna mention the pro hero part?  Some people would pay good money for that, I’m sure.”

Y/n vigorously shook her head.  “No way!  I wouldn’t want to hurt your career like that!  You’ve got lots more important stuff to do than to do damage control on your public image.  I promise it doesn’t leave this room.”

The others in the room nodded and spoke up in agreement.  “Yeah dude.  Honest mistake.  We’ll laugh about it amongst ourselves, then forget about it.”

About this time, the door burst open.

“Dude!”

A blond rushed into the room.  Denki, took a moment to take in the scene in front of him before he doubled over, howling with laughter.  Kirishima, Bakugou, and Mina followed shortly behind.

“Sorry,” Kirishima rubbed his head, slightly embarrassed.  “Once Denks figured out what was going on, we couldn’t stop him.”

“This is better than if it had gone right!”  Denki wheezed, flopping over onto the floor.  “Happy birthday, nice to meet you!  Here’s my dick, give it a lick, it tastes like vanilla!”  Kaminari dissolved into nearly hysterical laughter as both Sero and y/n flushed scarlet.  Bakugou gave Denki a less than gentle boot to the ribs.  “It’s not that funny you fucking overgrown phone charger.  You really need to quit hanging out with Mineta.”

“I don’t know, guys, I think it’s pretty funny.”  Mina grinned as leaned against the doorframe.  “And I must say, the tablecloth toga is on point.  Should consider it for your next costume redesign.”

“Hardy har.  Didn’t realize this was comedy hour.  Now, did any of you payasos bring me my clothing?”

Kirishima held up a bag and gave it a shake.  “Clothes and wipes to get the gunk off ya.”

“Gracias, Eijiro.  You’re the only good man here.”

“Hey!” Bakugou objected.

“You’ll make the buen amigo list again if you manage to get services comped for these lovely folks.”

“Already did that as soon as we figured out what happened, soy sauce face.”

“Excellent.  Thank you.”  Sero sighed.  “Now can you please help me out of this table so that I can get dressed and quit intruding on the party of this encantadora dama?”

“Nope!”  Mina laughed.  “Or at least not right away.  First, pictures!”

“¿Imágenes? ¿Seriamente?”  Sero groaned.

“Absolutely!  We need to capture this moment forever!”

“Agreed!  I’ll take the pics so everyone else can crowd in and hand me your cameras if you want!” y/n’s friend piped up.

“If any of these pictures get out…” Bakugou growled.

“We’ve already been over that.  Personal mementos only!  Scout’s honour!”  y/n’s friend placed a hand over their heart and tried to tame their grin into something more serious.

And so that’s how y/n found herself perched next to her favorite hero, as flash after flash went off, taking group shots.  And it seemed that also just as quickly, Kirishima was helping to haul his friend out of the cake and cardboard remains.  They took over a corner, Denki and Kirishima holding up the tablecloth like a privacy curtain while Sero got himself cleaned up and dressed.  It was around this time that a very apologetic staff member showed up with a large angel food cake, placing it on the table while assuring everyone that their bills had been taken care of.  They wheeled out the other cake as they left.  After Sero was fully dressed, y/n cleared her throat and said,  “Would you like to stay for cake since yours is gone now?  Or have you had enough cake for the night?”

“Well,” Sero drawled, a mischievous grin on his face.  “I’m not rude enough to refuse a lady her wish on her birthday.”

“You had me at cake!”  Denki exclaimed, already sliding into a chair.

Everyone gathered around the table.  Happy Birthday was sung, candles were blown out, cake was cut and distributed.  Conversation flowed surprisingly easy, talking about jobs, and pets, and birthdays past.  Y/n shared about the birthday they’d almost accidentally set their nan on fire due to an unfortunate silly string incident.  Sero told about the birthday that was the day his quirk fully activated and he had accidentally taped himself to the ceiling.  It had taken his family half an hour to find him.  Bakugou claimed to have never had an embarrassing birthday, and threatened to explode his friends' faces when the rest of the Bakusquad started listing one thing after another.  And so several hours flew by with everyone enjoying themselves.  Bakugou finally looked at the clock and stretched, standing up.

“Hey nerds, place if going to close soon.  We need to go grab our shit.”

The others glanced at the clock before also scrambling up.  “Shit, yeah, completely lost track of time!”  Denki headed to the door.  “Later, gators!  Had an awesome night!  Should do it again sometime.  And happy birthday, Y/n!”

“Thanks, was a great night!  And congrats on cracking the top fifty!”  Y/n called.

Denki waved as he walked out the door.  Mina, Kirishima, and Bakugou also said their goodbyes and headed out.  Sero, however, lingered for a bit.

“It did turn out to be a good night.  But I am still sorry for interrupting your party like that.”

“For the last time, it’s fine”  Y/n laughed.

Sero cast his eyes down, bashfully, mumbling protests. But then, he noticed something attached to your bag. He interrupted his own rambling apology to ask “Is that a Cellophane tape dispenser key chain?”

Really, he didn’t have to ask. He knew all his own merch. That particular key chain was one of his first products. It hadn’t sold very well, and had only lasted one small run. They were really hard to find anymore. 

Before y/n had a chance to reply, her friend clapped her on the shoulder and said “Yep! She has three of them. One on her purse, a spare in case this one breaks, and one to keep in pristine condition.”

“Shut!  Up!” Y/n hissed.

Grinning, her friend continued.  “Pretty sure she has at least one of everything of the official merch.  She’s been a mega fan for years.  Total simp.  That’s why the party colors were black, white, and yellow.  Low key Cellophane themed.”

Y/n closed her eyes, resigned.  “If the floor doesn’t swallow me up right now, I’m burning your Dynamite body pillow next chance I get.”

Sero blushed as he grinned, one long arm raising to scratch the back of his head.  “Well now I don’t feel quite so bad about what happened.  One of a kind birthday show for my partidaria número uno.”

Y/n could feel their blush creeping down their neck.  “Really, it was just an honest mistake!  No big deal!”  She squeaked.

“Regardless, I do want to make it up to you, hermosa.  So, how about we exchange numbers?”

“What?!”  Y/n’s squeak reached an abnormally high pitch.

“Well this way we can get in touch, and I can make it up to you somehow.  Some exclusive merch.  Tickets to an event…  A date perhaps?”  Hanta’s grin spread wider.

Y/n’s brain stalled.  Her friends were quick to jump in.  “Yes!”

“She’d love to.”

“She’s free next Friday and Sunday!”

Y/n’s brain started to kick back in “Guys, what?  No!”

“So you wouldn’t like to go out with me next Sunday?”  Hanta whined with an exaggerated pout.

“No!  I mean…”  Y/n drew a deep shaking breath.  “I’d… I’d like that.  If you actually mean it, that is.”

Hanta pulled out his phone and handed it to y/n.  “Absolutely.  Just put in your number and I’ll text you.  No voy a dejar pasar esta oportunidad.  Tendríamos la mejor historia para contarles a nuestros hijos cómo nos conocimos.”

Y/n furrowed their eyebrows, only managing to catch a few words of the Spanish as they entered their number in.  “I didn’t quite catch all that…”

One of y/n’s friends called from across the room.  “Hey slick!  Es mejor que al menos haya una propuesta antes de planificar los hijos.”

Hanta blushed bright red while laughing.  “Noted.”

Y/n handed Sero his phone back.  “Neither of you are going to tell me what you said, are you?”

“Nope!  I’ll be texting you soon, hermosa.  But for now, hasta luego.”  Sero waved before jogging out the door and down the hallway, heading back to his friends.  Y/n waved, before going to help clean up, ignoring the giggles and teasing of her friends.  Soon enough, everything was taken care of.  Y/n said her goodbyes and headed out.  She hadn’t even made it to the car before her phone buzzed in her pocket.  When she pulled it out, there was a text from an unknown number that read “I can’t wait to see what the future brings.  Happy Birthday,  Princesa.”

My life is over.

I'll curl up in this cake and die now.

I can see the headlines. Professional hero Cellophane found naked and dead in a cake.

Thank you.  I’m sorry.

My God.

Clowns

Thanks

Good friend.

Lovely lady.

Pictures?  Seriously?”

Number one fan.

Beautiful.

I will not miss this opportunity. We would have the best story to tell our children how we met.

There better at least be a proposal before you plan of children.

Princess

Taglist- @kat-unzel

[godofplumsandthunder]

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827​ 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look. 

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.” 

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that? 

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer. 

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand. 

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you. 

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic. 

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer. 

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.” 

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.” 

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace. 

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made. 

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand. 

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time. 

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time. 

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.” 

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.” 

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust  / 3

🔖 [first] [prev] [next]

---

ch 3 | first impressions

    Please, sit,” the man offered. His voice was back to the way it was before, quiet, gentle and solemn. You obeyed, sitting gingerly on the edge of one of the wooden seats. “May I have your name?”

    “Hansi, sir.” Quickly, you add, “though sir can call me whatever sir likes.”

    “Hansi,” he murmured. In his lips, your name — something that’s been baggage all your life, a reminder of the woman who threw you away — sounded like divinity. “Please, call me Zhongli.”

    Okay. The meeting was not going at all how you expected. But then again, it was what you figured: honorable in public, but behind closed doors—

    “Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you nodded.

    “Would you like some tea?” He gestured to the other cup in the middle of the table. It was filled with a faint, golden liquid. “Please, help yourself. It’s Pu’Er.”

    You only froze for a second. Sure, you’d play along. You thanked him, reaching for the cup. It burned your fingers through the porcelain, but Archons be damned if you were going to drop and break it. You took a small sip. It scorched your parched throat all the way down.

    “How is it?”

    “It’s good, sir—“

    “Zhongli,” he reminded you gently.

    “It’s good, Mr. Zhongli.” It was not a lie — you wouldn’t be able to tell good tea from boiled grass, but the cup you just downed warmed your stomach and soothed your frayed nerves.

    “I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled, and suddenly — too late — you realized that maybe you shouldn’t have drunk something that you hadn’t watched this strange man prepare. You knew of the drugs that these men sometimes slipped into the food they gave to street rats like you, you’d seen many a woman and child stolen away because of it.

    You cursed yourself — what had happened to keeping your guard up? Was a soothing voice and pretty face all it took to earn your trust these days?

    You stiffened as he raised a gloved hand. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you certainly were not expecting him to launch into a monologue about the history of Pu’Er tea.

    He did, anyway, losing you somewhere between “harvested from the caves of Ling’ju Pass” and “aged delicately for fifteen years”. To say that his behavior had transcended bewildering was an understatement. Was this some kind of setup? A sick joke that rich people played on their new servants and slaves?

    You realized that he’d stopped talking, clearly awaiting a response.

    “Wow, aged for fifteen years. That’s a uh, long time,” you offered lamely. Archon help you.

    “It may seem so,” Zhongli mused, “but it’s precisely that fermentation process that gives the Pu’Er tea its signature flavor. Fifteen years is but a small price to pay for such a unique experience, don’t you think?”

    Briefly, you remembered all the trinkets and wallets and jewelry you’d stolen from passersby, how desperately you’d pawned them off at the nearest willing merchant for the promise of a meal or two.

    “Yes,” you agreed, even though you couldn’t begin to imagine being rich enough to wait fifteen years to sell something.

    It had been a few minutes since you’d drunk the first sip of tea, and you were still fine. Besides, he was drinking from the same pot. Maybe the tea was safe, after all. You took another sip, finishing your cup. Despite yourself, you found yourself hoping that Zhongli would continue talking in that silky voice of his, even if it was just about fermented tea leaves.

    “I do apologize for rambling the evening away. I’m sure you’re exhausted from your journey.” He continued, “If you’re finished with your tea, perhaps we should head home. We can talk tomorrow, once you’ve rested.”

    Home. You swallowed a dry retch, the implications stuck in your throat. Of course. It served you right for forgetting what you were here for. Behind closed doors—

    “Yes. We can go if that’s what pleases you, Mr. Zhongli.” Your voice broke twice in that sentence. If Zhongli noticed, he did not say anything about it.

    He rose from his seat, and suddenly you realized just how tall, how solid he was. If you ran, he would catch you. If you fought back—

    Sweeping by you, he opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing into the night air. “After you.”

---

    You trailed a few feet behind him as you two walked through the quiet, twisting alleys of Liyue. You thought you knew the city well enough, having lived on its streets for as long as you had, but he seemed to know the back roads of the city like it were an extension of his own body.

    You took a deep breath to calm yourself. He left behind a faint lingering scent of flowers — like the glaze lilies you’d stolen from Yujing Terrace to pawn, but mostly, he smelled of warmth — earthy, spices, the fresh spring grass.

    Seeing Zhongli in all his standing glory made you suddenly and horribly aware of how unsightly you were in comparison. You’d been cleaned up before the escort, but there were still yellowing bruises that the damp cloth couldn’t erase, chewed fingernails and frayed hair and rib bones that jut out from under pallid skin. And while the dress you were wearing was the nicest thing you’d ever owned, it was but rags in comparison to the elegant outfit Zhongli was clad in.

    Your gaze stopped at his waist, and the golden gem dangling at his belt.

    “Is that a Vision?” you blurted, and immediately regret it. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask about you, Mr. Zhongli.”

    “Please, never apologize for speaking your mind,” Zhongli answered, without missing a stride. “And to answer your question, yes. A Geo Vision.”

    The one at your chest is still warm against your skin. “That’s amazing,” you say, and you meant it. Vision users were powerful people capable of unbelievable feats — even raised on the streets, you knew that. You wondered how Zhongli got his Vision: a fight, perhaps, against the ferocious monsters that roamed the wilderness outside Liyue Harbor?

    If Zhongli had a Vision, there was no longer any doubt about it: the Vision given to you was a mistake. How could you ever hope to compare to someone like him? “You must be an incredible person, if Rex Lapis himself acknowledged you.”

    Zhongli did take pause at that, peering at you with a strange look in his eyes. A small smile danced across his lips. “That is one way to think of it,” he acknowledged, as he continued walking. “It has been said that Rex Lapis only grants Visions to those he deems the most worthy.”

    The rest of the trek was silent, until he stopped walking so suddenly that you almost bumped into him. You looked up from the ground, and found your breath taken away by the sculpture before you. It was a statue of Rex Lapis — there were plenty around Liyue, but tonight, silver stone gleaming under a sky full of stars, he looked ethereal.

    “This was cast by the first generation of Hanfeng Ironmongers, long before mankind mastered the properties of flame and the forge,” Zhongli said, citing the name of the most famous clan of blacksmiths in Liyue Harbor. “Each time I pass it, I like to take a moment to stop and admire it. It’s a beautiful statue.”

    “Beautiful,” you echoed absently, “he’s beautiful.” This was the Archon who had saved your life with that Vision, whether he’d meant to or not. You offered a silent prayer — of unyielding gratitude, for forgiveness, and for mercy. When you opened your eyes, Zhongli was eyeing you with a strange look on his face.

    “I would ask you what you prayed for,” he chuckles, “but some superstitious folk would say then that your prayers won’t come true. Shall we continue? We are almost home.”

---

    After ten more minutes of walking, you could feel your ankles trembling under the weight of your body. You and Zhongli had left Liyue, and begun walking through the forests on the outskirts of the city. Finally, he came to a stop in front of a house tucked into the foliage of a valley. It was a sizable estate, with a walled back garden and two floors, but you were mildly surprised that he hadn’t brought you to a castle, at this point.

    Zhongli unlocked the door and gestured, again, for you to go ahead. Your stomach in knots, you took your first step into your new home — and prison.

    It was warm.

    Embers crackled in the fireplace of the living room, casting a faint golden glow on the tasteful, lavish furniture that lined the floor. There were tapestry scrolls on either side of the fireplace here too. You don’t understand the poetry written on these ones, either.

    “Welcome to my home,” Zhongli said, walking past you. He did not touch you. “We have much to discuss, but that can wait until tomorrow. You look like you’re on the brink of collapse, and we can’t have you getting sick from exhaustion.” Despite yourself, you feel a small twinge of something at that — you’d never, in your life, had someone care about your health. He probably just doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of a sick servant, you told yourself.

    “Let us go to bed and have a good night’s sleep first,” Zhongli continued, and anything you’d felt quickly soured.

    Bed. You swallowed the panic rising bright and hot in your lungs. You might not be as educated as he surely was, but you were not naive. You knew that sleep was not what you would be getting tonight. The plea got stuck on your tongue. What could you say, to stop this rich, powerful man from claiming what was his?

    “Let me show you to your room.” He beckoned at you to follow as he strode down a long hallway. You blinked, too stunned to obey for a moment, before running after him.

    “My room?” You asked.

    “Yes.” He paused at the end of the hallway, opening one of the doors to reveal a cozy bedroom. Like everything else about Zhongli, it was tastefully decorated — lush, dark green curtains framing a circular window. A bed sat in the corner of the room, adorned with thick blankets and more pillows than you’d ever seen in your life.

    “This room was a study until very recently, and so these drawers are still currently full of my things,” Zhongli gestured to the bedside table, “but the closets are empty and free for you to use. I was thinking that we could go shopping for some clothes for you tomorrow, if you were feeling well enough. I do apologize for not purchasing any in advance, I was not sure of your measurements—“

    “Wait,” you said, afraid to let yourself hope. “Wait. We won’t be sharing a bed?”

    He turned to look at you, surprise briefly flashing in his eyes, and you’d never wanted to take back a sentence so badly in your life. A palpable silence draped the room, as Zhongli studied you so intently that you thought you might fall over dead, right then and there.

    “Truthfully tell me,” he said, voice as low as a hum. “Is that what you would want?”

    It took all of your courage to shake your head.

    “Then we will have our separate rooms,” Zhongli said, with an air of decisive finality, and continued like he hadn’t just shaken your world. “I will show you around the house tomorrow. There is water in the jug by your bed. Is there anything you might need for the night?”

    You shake your head mutely, again.

    “Very well. My room is right across the hall — please do not hesitate to shout if you need anything.” Zhongli smiled, and it’s so beautiful that you had to shake the shivers from your spine. “Good night, Hansi.”

    There it was again, your name in his lips — divine.

    Zhongli closed the door gently behind him, and you sunk to your knees, all the strength suddenly gone from your body. You’d survived the first evening with your new master. You’d survived.

    Once you picked yourself back up, you peeled your Geo Vision out from under the dress, taking your first look at it under the proper light of an oil lamp. It’s unframed, of course, unlike Zhongli’s, but the golden gemstone was identical in all other ways — catching the light in all its facets with a dazzling shimmer. When you put it into the bedside drawer, shoving it under the piles of scrolls and parchments, you were surprised to feel a twinge of sadness.

    Stupid. How could you miss something that was not rightfully yours?

    Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited as you clambered into the bed — your first very bed! Sinking into the sheets (they smelled heavenly), you let out an embarrassingly loud sigh of contentment.

    There was a little voice in the back of your head screaming — and part of you still knew, irrefutably, that you can’t trust Zhongli — but the call of sleep is much, much louder. You let your heavy lids fall shut, and quickly fell into the most comfortable slumber of your life.

[moongazer606]

That’s The Idea

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2820 

Warnings: alcohol consumption (drink responsibly, folks)

Summary:  Tony is throwing yet another of his lavish parties. During a quiet moment at the bar with Bucky you decide to finally make your move, but it doesn’t quite go to plan.

"Apple? Why do you want apples in your whiskey?” he asked incredulously, frowning at the shot glass in your hand.

“Don’t knock it till you try it, Barnes,” you held up the glass in a mock cheers before downing it all in one go. You exhaled deeply before nodding, a smile on your lips. “That’s the spot.”

You could feel the sharp liquid leaving a warm trail as it coursed through your body.

“I still don’t see why you need the apple,” Bucky mumbled, giving the bottle a sniff. “Smells like candy, doll.”

“Kinda tastes like it too,” you grinned. “Filler up, barkeep!”

Bucky’s eyes darted from you to the shot glass in your hand and back to you. “You sure you need more?”

“I’ve only had one shot, let me live a little. I'm not nearly as drunk as I should be for one of Tony Stark's parties,” you whined holding out the shot glass to him.

He snatched the glass as you gently smiled at him, your chin resting on your hands as you leaned on the bar top. “You should wear your hair back more often,” you commented offhandedly. “Gives me a better view of those gorgeous eyes.”

He handed you the full shot glass. “It only takes one shot for you to start revealing your deepest secrets? You’d never last through an interrogation.”

You raised your eyebrow, the shot glass halfway to your lips. “You think that’s one of my deepest secrets?” You threw the shot back. “If I wanted to reveal a secret I would tell you how desperate I am for you to taste this whiskey.”

“I don’t see how that’s a secret,” he frowned. “I could just take a sip from the bottle if you wanted me to taste it so bad.”

Giving him a coy smile you leaned across the bartop, grabbed the front of his shirt, and tugged him to you. “That’s not what I meant,” you murmured, your lips just barely ghosting over his own. Your eyes dipped down to his mouth before meeting his once more. You could hear his sharp inhale, his eyes blown wide in surprise. You released him suddenly, shoving him back with a big grin on your face. “Gotcha.”

Bucky blinked back at you still stunned. Shaking his head he picked up his tumbler and took a long swig of his plain whiskey, the ice cubes clinking softly.

“Cap owes me five bucks,” you laughed as you reached for the bottle and filled up your shot glass yourself. “He said no one could catch you off guard.”

Suddenly, with super soldier reflexes, Bucky reached out and cupped the back of your neck, making you lean across the bar again. Before you could even gasp his lips were at your ear. "Don't start something you can't finish, doll."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to say something snappy back but your mind had gone completely blank. As soon as he released you, you took a swig straight from the bottle of apple whiskey, trying to get your heartbeat under control. You'd had a crush on him for a while and this wasn't the first time you'd flirted. However, you had underestimated the effect his touch had on you.

The full shot was still on the bar as you took another swig from the bottle. Bucky reached over and threw it back. He eyed you warily as he licked his lips. "That stuff's dangerous. With all that sugar you'll be drunk off your ass before you even realize it."

"That's the idea," you winked.

Bottle in hand you slid off your barstool and went to mingle with the rest of the team. Most were gathered around Steve and Sam at the pool table. You had no idea who was winning but you loved cracking jokes with Maria Hill at the men's expense.

Steve came around the table, close to where the two of you were perched on a couch.

"Now that is America's ass!" Maria called just as Steve bent over to take his shot.

He gave you both his megawatt smile before returning to the game. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Bucky come up and stand next to the couch, his arms crossed over his broad chest and legs slightly apart. "You know, he had no ass to speak of before the serum," he commented.

"I thought the serum was supposed to enhance what he already had; there must have been something there!" you laughed, looking up at him.

His eyes flicked down to you, a smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe there was," he admitted. "But pants back then didn't show off certain assets too much."

"Well I'm certainly glad that's changed," you winked.

"Me too, doll," his eyes raked over your body. You flushed red at his comment.

After Steve and Sam's face off was over, with Sam reigning victorious, everyone decided it was time to turn in. Maria took the apple whiskey back to its place on her way out as you lingered on the couch.

"C'mon, doll, I'll walk you to your room," Bucky said holding his hand out to you. Even with your hand firmly in his, you swayed a little when you stood. Being drunk sitting and being drunk standing were two very different things. When you looked up at Bucky he was much closer than you realized. For a moment you two stood in silence as you got lost in his steel blue eyes.

Still gazing up at him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and got up on your tiptoes. Just as you leaned in to kiss him, he turned his head slightly. Your lips landed on his cheek instead.

"Why don't you want to kiss me?" you pouted.

"Trust me, I want to kiss you," he assured you pulling you close so your head rested on his shoulder. "But I need you to be sober when I kiss you for the first time. I gotta do this right."

Something in his words squeezed at your heart. You nodded against him, a few tears threatening to spill over. His metal arm tightened around you as he shifted, scooping you up bridal style. "Let's get you off to bed."

"So you won't kiss me, but you'll take me to bed?"

He started to glare down at you before he noticed your wide grin. "You're gonna be the death of me, doll," he chuckled shaking his head slightly.

He carried you as if you weighed nothing. As you traveled upward in the elevator you couldn't help but nuzzle your nose into Bucky's neck. "I like that new cologne you've been using," you whispered, your lips ghosting over his pulse point. Maybe it was your imagination but you could have sworn his breath hitched when you did so.

Your brain swam with ideas about kissing his neck, making your way to his stubbed jaw and those soft lips. You blinked hard a few times trying to clear your head. Bucky's words about wanting to do this right grounded your drunk mind slightly. You were just about to nuzzle his neck again when the elevator doors slid open and you were moving again.

You thought he would drop you at your door and go, but instead he asked FRIDAY for access to your rooms and carried you all the way to your bed. He lowered you gently to the floor before brushing your hair from your face. "Get changed into some pajamas," he instructed you before turning. For a moment you thought he was about to leave you completely. Instead, you watched him intently as he disappeared into your bathroom. You changed as quickly as your heavy limbs would allow. You were just pulling an oversized shirt down over your head when he came back in with a glass of water and painkillers. You pulled back the covers and sighed contentedly as you laid down.

Bucky came over, leaving the water and pills on your nightstand, before tucking you into your bed. "Make sure you drink that water, doll," he murmured as he bent and kissed your forehead softly. Your eyes fluttered closed and there was a small smile on your lips.

As he turned to go you quickly reached out for his hand. "Please stay."

You could see a war wage in his eyes as he gazed down at you. He ran his hands through his hair, sighing. "Alright, but no funny business."

"Aye aye, sarge," you yawned sleepily, your eyes closing again.

You felt the bed dip behind you as he sat on the edge to remove his shoes. You heard them and his pants hit the floor. Before he pulled the covers back and got under them with you. You knew he was there but you needed to feel him. You rolled over onto your other side so you could face him. He was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

You reached out, taking his hand into yours. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Anything for my best girl," Bucky whispered, barely audible, giving your hand a squeeze.

You were sound asleep moments later.

You woke up early, light barely filtering in from behind your curtains. Your mouth felt like it was full of cotton and your head was being squeezed in a vice. You groggily wondered how water and painkillers got to be on your nightstand before downing them both. With a sigh you burrowed back into your covers. You were just drifting off again when there was suddenly a heavy weight across your middle. Your eyes flew open and you were about to flip over when you remembered.

Bucky. You had asked Bucky to stay and he had. He gently pulled you to him so your back was flush against his hard chest. You knew you were blushing hard but you couldn't help smiling. You didn't know how Bucky would react to waking up in this position so you decided to savor it. You entwined your fingers with his where they rested on your stomach. You sighed contentedly before relaxing again. As your eyelids started to grow heavy, you gave Bucky's hand one last squeeze. You may have dreamt it, but you swore he pulled you a little closer.

The next time you awoke the sun was fully out and you were completely spread out, alone in your bed. Thankfully your headache was gone but you were still wildly thirsty. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stretched. You stumbled to the bathroom to wash the rest of the makeup from last night off your face. You were a little sad he wasn't still there but maybe it was for the best. You had kind of embarrassed yourself the night before.

As you turned the corner into the kitchen you ran into something. Strong arms steadied you as you looked up into Bucky's eyes.

"I thought you left," you said a little shocked.

"Can't get rid of me that easy," he chuckled, taking a step back. "I was just coming to wake you. I made breakfast."

You looked up at him in wonder. "You made breakfast?"

"Pancakes to be exact," he said rubbing the back of his neck. You could have sworn he was blushing. He turned then and headed over to the island where he had two places set, plates piled high with pancakes.

As you followed him you realized he was still dressed in what he had gone to sleep in: a black t-shirt, red plaid boxers, and black socks. He still sported the bun from the night before, though a few strands had been tugged loose in his sleep, framing his face. You decided sleep rumpled Bucky was your favorite Bucky yet.

As you sat and ate your pancakes together, your arms would brush every so often as he reached for his glass of orange juice or you cut another piece off your stack of pancakes. Every touch sent a jolt through your body. You wanted to be wrapped in his arms again.

When you were done Bucky cleared your plates and put them in the dishwasher. "Thank you for breakfast. I think those are the best pancakes I've ever had," you smiled shyly at him.

"Anything for my best girl," he smiled back, coming to stand in front of you as you still sat on the stool. He took another step forward, forcing you to part your legs so he could stand between them. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared down at you.

"What's wrong?" You blushed under such scrutiny from the man. "Is there something on my face?"

"Actually," he reached out, cupping your head in his hands, titling your face up. "You've got a little syrup there."

Before you could ask where, Bucky leaned down and kissed you. It was gentle and perfect and everything you had hoped it would be. Too soon he was pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. "Got it," he murmured.

"You know, now that you mention it," you murmured. "I think you've got some syrup there too."

With a grin you pressed your lips to his. As you kissed, you stood, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling your body flush against his. You felt Bucky's arms wrap around you before he was lifting you up onto the counter. Your lips never even broke apart. In this new position, with Bucky pressed between your open legs, you were slightly taller than him.

Eventually you had to pull away, breathing heavily. Bucky wrapped his arms around your middle as he nuzzled his face into your neck, just as you had done to him the night before.

"You know what?" you murmured into his hair. He simply hummed in question. "You were right."

He pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes, confusion evident. "Right about what?"

"Waiting till I was sober was definitely the right thing to do," you replied, brushing his hair back from his face. "Now I can recall this with perfect clarity whenever I want."

"Or," he turned his head slightly so he could kiss your palm, his eyes sparkling. "You can just kiss me whenever you want."

"That’s the idea," you smiled before leaning forward and catching his lips in another searing kiss. Placing his hands under your thighs, Bucky took a step back. With a small squeal you latched your arms and legs around him.

He walked over to your couch, sitting down heavily with you straddling his lap. You kept your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he stroked his hands up and down your thighs. You don't know how long you sat there in a comfortable silence, but at last you leaned back slightly to look at him. "I don't know if you had any other plans for today, but if you don't you could stay here and we could watch movies and order takeout?" You didn't know why you sounded so unsure of yourself, but part of you was terrified that he was just going to dump you off his lap and flee at any moment.

To your amazement he burst out in a dazzling smile. "I'd love that, doll."

You smiled back with a sigh of relief. "You can look through my movie collection while I shower. I feel gross after so much alcohol."

You kissed him quickly on the lips before climbing off his lap.

"I could join you!" he called as you disappeared into your room.

You poked your head out the door to find him grinning at you from over the back of the couch. With a smile you rolled your eyes and went back into your room. After you'd showered and changed, you walked back out to the living room to find Bucky sitting cross legged on the floor in front of your shelves of movies. He had a small stack next to him.

"It'll take us days to watch all of those," you pointed out.

He tilted his head back to look at you. "That's the idea," he grinned.

With a small smile you leaned forward, took his face in your hands, and kissed him upside down. As you went to pull away, Bucky spun so he was facing you before tugging you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise before his lips were back on yours, moving in perfect sync together. You didn't know how long you spent straddling his lap there on the floor, but when you finally pulled apart you were both out of breath.

“At this rate we’ll never get to any of these movies,” you murmured, your hands trailing up his sides under his shirt.

He leaned forward to kiss you again. Just before your lips met, he grinned. “That’s the idea.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Middle of the Trees

You can’t sleep. Calum learns about a secret talent. 

Reader Insert. No specific race or gender. 

This is was SUPPOSED to be a quick 500 word blurbs. She’s 2.4k words but we already knew I’m captain of long windedness. Please enjoy the pre-game to tomorrow’s festivies. (It’s not related at all. Just cranking out some last minute drafts before my final 5sos fic goes up.)

Enjoy my masterlist.

Support me on ko-fi

No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go, 2020. 

________________________________

You shouldn’t have been awake. Not this late at night. You hadn’t meant to be awake at this hour, if you’re honest. It was probably the nap from earlier, when you were out with Calum, bathing in the warm sun. Being out in the sun created a fatigue that truly was unmatched. So after your return in doors and showering, you settled onto the couch. Sleep found you without a fight. Now, now, you are paying the price it seems.

The house is settling into the quiet of the night. Duke is curled up on your side of the bed. Calum half covered by the sheets and bathed in the faintest light from the moon seeping in through the blinds. It isn’t a lot of light. Though, it helps that even in the dark you can make out the outline of Calum’s figure in the bed. There are two options, after staring at the TV in the living room, proved no use for your much too alert mind: you can curl up next to Calum and hope that the warmth of his body is enough to trick your brain or you could mess about with something in the house until the buzzing of your brained quieted. 

On a plus, Calum slept like the dead, so even if you made a little bit of noise with your choice of activity, it probably wouldn’t wake him. Padding into his office/music room, you find the keyboard he set up in the corner. Most of the room is lined with plaques and various guitars: bass, electric, acoustic. Plopping yourself into the computer chair at his desk, you roll it over to the keyboard. It turns on, the small red light letting you know so. You readjust the settings, after playing just a quick note and horns screech out at you. 

“Didn’t know that was up his sleeve,” you tease, clicking it over to the piano setting. When you play the note again, it sounds like twinkling stars and you just sit for a moment. The window’s to your left, the shades are drawn but not shut fully. Almost as if Calum had closed them part way through the day, at some point because it was too much light. 

From here, your view is mostly backyard and privacy shrubbery but you can imagine that on just the other side is the road. And who knows if cars are passing by at this time of night, but they could be. And inside those cars are kids laughing as they are taken back from some party.  Or maybe it’s just someone trying to clear their head. The weight of everything has finally pushed their spine too far and if they don’t do something, don’t do anything, they’re sure to snap. 

Maybe cars are just out because folks are heading home from the late shift, heading out to the late shift and all around are just folks living lives. And you are here. Sitting at a keyboard, hoping that your fingers find something to say. But that is a life living too, you suppose. You are a life living too. By the time you turn your attention back to the keys, your fingers are moving and the haunting sounds swell for a moment, trail off and up near the higher end, you pick it back up. 

There’s nothing wrong with where you are, of course. It’s comfortable. It’s familiar and it’s not that you’re bored with Calum, or the relationship. But part of you wants to hear cars going by. You want to be in those cars, sometimes. You don’t think your youth was snatched from you but you do think that maybe you had always been a little too cautious, had always played things a little too safe. 

There’s life happening in this house, you remind yourself, fingers running down the scale. It gets like this sometimes. Having you remind yourself that there’s nothing wrong with the way you’ve played your cards. They’ve worked out for you. And it’s only at night, when you’re alone with your thoughts that you start to second guess everything. You always joke that it’s a talent that takes years to perfect to overthink like you do.  Really it’s not so bad, it’s not. 

The keys sing out for a moment longer, waiting for more of your fingers to work magic over them. But all you can do is just sit and stare and imagine the neon lights bathing a street in their glow and how heels are clicking against asphalt and how someone’s bent over their plate of greasy food. Or maybe someone’s leaning into a wall, in a too brightly lit dinner, praying for the sun to finally lift the curtain of darkness. 

“You never said you could play piano?” It’s Calum’s scratchy and hoarse voice from behind you. 

You shrug before spinning around in the chair. “I only play by ear mostly. Not trained to play it really.”

He shuffles, scratching at his scalp for a second before that hand stretches out. “Well, you sound lovely. Bed?”

“Can’t sleep,” you answer, trailing your fingers over his skin. It sends a shiver down his spine at how cold your fingers are and how soft the touch is; he’ll never get used to it. It’s been a year as if and it always catches him off guard. 

His fingers wrap over yours and tugs to bring you to your feet. “Teach me.” It’s a soft command and in the darkness as your eyes have adjusted you can see and hear how sleep is still holding onto him. He probably woke up to go to the bathroom or maybe the piano playing woke him. 

“Did I wake you?”

Calum doesn’t answer. Instead he settles into the chair and pats his lap. “Teach me.”

You shrug. “I don’t--I don’t even remember what I played. It just,” you gesture for a moment, like vomit coming out of your mouth. 

He shrugs. “Play me something else then.” The command comes with another pat to his thighs. 

You don’t raise anymore arguments and settle into him. Calum turns the hair with his feet, arms wrapping around your waist. His breath tickles your back. Your fingers settle curled and ready for your thoughts to carry them. But for a moment in time, all you focus on is the way Calum’s breathing causes his chest to just brush up against your back. You let yourself breathe in time with him for a moment. 

The first note hits the air and it lingers, nearly fading out before the next one accompanies it. It’s a dance, you see now. Two people who have fallen in sync with each other. The tempo you’ve created makes you think of a waltz, dazzling lights and the clinking of tea cups against their porcelain saucers. You think about when you were a kid and thought about how magical a moment it is to find the one, to lock eyes across the room with the person that will get to see your soul, naked and truly you. 

Somewhere in the years that childlike wonder when it comes to love tarnished.  Maybe it’s all the hearts that weren’t gentle with yours and maybe it’s all the hearts you weren’t gentle with. Maybe it’s the beds you almost got into. Maybe it’s the friends that you lost contact with just because that’s the way the world spins. People come in for a season and you want them to stay for harvest. How fucked up is it, to have a heart that yearns to be loved and to give love, but manages to get attached to the wrong people, to know that even things with pure intents can be mistakes.

Calum squeezes your waist. The particular harsh throaty croaks catch his ears and he’s not sure where this is going, what’s happening but he wants you to know that he’s here. He won’t let you fall. “It’s okay,” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing and leaving behind in their wake a trail of tingles. 

“Do you remember your dreams?” you asks, finally bringing your gaze back to the keys in front of you and not the beige wall. 

“I don’t think I dream much anymore. Not any ones that are interesting really.”

“We all dream. You just don’t remember them that’s all.”

Calum chuckles, leaning a bit to the side to see your face. “There’s one dream. That keeps coming back.”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember your dreams?”

“I asked you first.”

With a kiss to your back, he exhales deeply. “I’m in some sort of field. Tall grass. Some flowers. But there’s this dirt path in front of me. It splits into two and one’s into some deep forest. The other seems to go on for miles with more field, most flat land. Can’t see the end for either one of them. And I’m just, like, standing there. Really. That’s it. Just standing.”

“Never pick a path?” you ask letting the run play once, then twice, then a third time in half speed. 

“Well, if I pick the forest. I meet an angel halfway through. Can’t really make out any details. Just a general human like figure in bright light. I try to talk to them. But they’re silent, singing up into the skies for what seems like forever. I can stand there as long as I want and they never drop the note.” As the sentence leaves his mouth, he notices that you replay the same note once, twice, a third time and even a fourth. 

“What’s in the forest?”

“Besides some trees and the angel?” You nod. Another exhale from him tickles your skin. “Not much. Not much animal life. No wind. Just us two. I can walk down some more. It’s more trees that outline the path and a river. Sometimes I skip the angel and just go straight to staring up through the clear water of this river, up to the bright sun and I just float. Let the current take me. I can float right pass my mum. She never hears me under the water. My dad’s a little further down. He doesn’t hear me. Mali’s there too. The guys. Friends from back in Australia. None of them can hear me and then that angel comes back, like right at the end after everyone else has seemingly just let me go by. They’re right there. I almost don’t even try with them, you know. Just figure that if the end has to take me it will. But they see me. They’re watching and it’s like finally my arms can break through the surface of the water. And they just latch on.”

“Do you think you needed to be saved? Or just wanted it? Like do you know that there’s danger on the other side?”

Calum hadn’t thought about that. By the time he’s free from the water he’s awake, or his alarm is going off. “I don’t know if there’s danger.”

“What’s down the other path?” Your fingers are still carrying over the keys, you’re thinking that flat plains need half notes. What’s the worst that could happen? You know you won’t be staying there long, not if there’s more to Calum’s dream. 

“I’ve never gone down that path. I’ve wondered about it. But any time that dream happens I always choose the forest.”

“Is there anything you want to be down there? Do you wish it a path to something?”

“I wouldn’t even begin to have an idea.”  

That’s content if you’ve ever heard it. If you ever had to play a song for it too. “I think you want to be saved. You don’t need it. Just want to know that people are there for you.”

“Maybe,” he hums in agreement. The music hasn’t stopped but it has slowed. The notes have more space, the sit longer, ring longer in his ears. “Do you remember your dreams?”

“Nah, I think they hate me.”

“They don’t hate you. You’re, like, the least hateable person in the world.”

You scoff, gaze falling back outside the window. Maybe all the cars have parked now. Maybe the kids finally got home. That late shift ended for that one person and just started for the other. There are no more heels to click. No more fries to scarf down. No more grease to pop at the skin. 

“Anxious again?” The question is soft. You almost don’t hear it from Calum’s lip, but you do feel it as he speaks. 

“Little bit, I guess.”

“Wanna go for a ride tomorrow?Maybe pack up and just see what’s out there for a day?”

“We can, yeah. Maybe it’ll help.” Maybe it’ll make you feel human again, connected to the masses but still living your own life. You play it out, thinking of what an angel means and what it must feel like to finally break through that water. How relief must flood his body and his veins. 

Release. To let go. Release. What a relief. And soon the keys have no more life in them, no more croaking or groaning or taps from your fingers and you just let things sink, fall how they must out and maybe it’s okay to let go. 

“Yeah we can go for a ride,” you say. Only to be meet by silence. Calum’s breath is deep. You can feel it in your back. His hold around you has slackened just a little and you know he’s falling, giving into sleep--if not already there. 

You turn off the keyboard and tap his forearm. It wakes him. “Sleepy?” he asks. You’re sure his eyes are closed. 

Sleep hasn’t gripped you yet. But you and Calum should probably get back to bed, especially him. “On it’s way,” you return, knowing sleep will find you, just not as immediately as it found Calum. 

He hums, pushing back and after you stand, he shuffles back to the bedroom. The sheets smell like him and a little bit like Duke, but they’re a packaged deal. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You lay on your back, fingers trailing over the skin of Calum’s forearm slung over your stomach. 

“I do remember my dreams,” you whisper. Calum hums, fingers flexes a bit and squish the flesh of you side. He doesn’t say anything though. So you continue on. “I’m standing in a field. Tall grass, some flowers. There’s a dirt road. It diverges and I don’t head further down into the fields. I go up into the trees. And I bathe myself in sunlight as a traveller comes by. They never seem lost. They just continue straight on, past me, down to the river. Sometimes I find them floating around. Sometimes I save them. But every time, we meet, in the middle of the trees.”

[howardpotts]

Sweet, Sugar, Candyman

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve

Summary: Reader performs Candyman and knows how to persuade the two men to join her on stage. She makes it one hell of a show, one that Bucky and Steve can’t forget. Bucky takes her to his bedroom, Steve joins quickly after.

Warnings: Smut (Male receiving, female receiving, vaginal sex, anal sex, M/M and F/M), roughness? As in; someone is going to be a bit demanding. ;)

A/N: Oh my god. My first threesome. I feel like I can finally say that I wrote some filthy smut. Oh, also, thanks @cametobuyplums @thamuddagirl @tranquil--heart for all the thirsty conversations that inspired this fic.

Do not read this if you are under 18.

Nervously you check yourself one last time in the mirror. Waved long hair, thick red lips, contoured face, navy tight dress. It was your typical 40’s look, or at least, that’s what you tried. You had to, to make your performance in front of the New York SHIELD Agents and Avengers an absolute success.

“Y/N, fifteen seconds”, someone informed you. You nodded firmly, hands lowering your dress one last time. This is it. Now or never.

“Now, give her a big applause…. Y/N!” The sound was muffled. Adrenaline rushed through your body, maybe even more than it did on mission. Missions you were familiar with, performing in front of a live audience you’re not.

Quickly you find your place, a big smile on your face, hands on your hips. The moment the beat started playing, the curtains disappeared and the crowd cheered. They have never seen you like this. The only version of you they ever saw was serious and to the point. Sure you liked a joke, most of the times you enjoyed a dark one better than the innocent ones.

“Before we start”, you begin, wiggling your eyebrows. “I need two strong men.” You smirk while you search the crowd, a few hands are in the air. Some jokingly, some serious. A chuckle leaves your mouth as you take a few steps forward. You spot Steve and Bucky in the crowd. Gotcha.

“Preferably two who have been around in the 40’s.” Your eyes never leave them, there’s no escaping now. Both look wide-eyed, not expecting this kind of sudden attention. The crowd cheers. Steve tries to get out of it, waving his hand and mouthing ‘no thanks’, but Bucky is already on his way to the stage.

Natasha helps you, pushing Steve in to the right direction until he gives in himself.

You greet Bucky when he climbs up. As a real gentleman, he kisses the back of your hand, looking in your eyes playfully. You lead him to one of the two chairs that are on the stage.

When Steve gets up, he looks embarrassed and slightly irritated. “Why?” is the first thing he asks you. You just shake your head, refusing to give him an answer and lead him to the other empty chair on the stage.

“Now, be a good Captain and stay seated please”, you whisper close to his ears.

You move to the center again. Your hips start flicking up and down while your hands are holding them. With a playful smile you watch the audience, nervous magically disappeared the minute you saw the crowd, excitement has taken over.

“Tarzan and Jane were swingin’ on a vine”, it scolds through the room, a male voice starting the song. The microphone is close to your mouth. “Candyman, candyman.”

“Sippin’ from a bottle of Vodka double wine.” One last look to the crowd with one eyebrow up. “Sweet, sugar, candyman.”

And you turn around to face the two men, who are maybe three feet apart from each other. The music takes on and you walk toward them, swaying your hips from left to right. Their attention is on you, curiosity beaming in their eyes.

You first turn to Bucky, since it felt like he was most sure of himself, Steve really needed to be eased into this song. You hovered over Bucky, laying your hand on his cheek softly. “I met out for diner on a Friday night”, you start, getting your hand back again and twirling around his chair.

“He really had me workin’ up an appetite. He had tattoos up and down his arm. There’s nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm. He’s a one stop shop, makes the panties drop-“

Bucky couldn’t be more surprised. He never saw you out of work and he most definitely never considered you.. this. One who can work the crowd, make them whistle while you walk past. He was blown away by your moves and touches, mentally trying to keep his head on the stage.

You laid a hand on his shoulder, which made his head flick up to you. You gave him a quick wink before lowering yourself, still moving your hips from one side to the other. The moment you’re finally at his height, you quirk up again, hand leaving his arm.

“He took me to the Spider Club on Hollywood and Vine. We drank champagne and we danced all night. We shook the paparazzi for a big surprise. The gossip tonight will be tomorrow’s headline-“

It was Steve’s turn. He looked up at you. His shyness was lost, he decided he better just get it over with. He gave you a little smirk as if he wanted you to know it’s okay to do the same as you did with Bucky.

And so you did. You stood behind him, your hand slowly going from his chest to his collarbone, but not any further than that. You made sure of that, not wanting to make them feel overtouched. Slowly you creeped your hand back to his should and then left again, walking around his chair and stopping again in the middle between the two guys.

“He’s a one stop shop, make my cherry pop. He’s a sweet talking, sugar-coated, candyman.”

The crowd cheered. Natasha and Tony having the times of their lives seeing those two supersoldiers in such.. public position. But also, they were very much enjoying your performance. You sang like an angel, not one note off. Your moves were smooth, but not overly done to make you look cheap. It was an overall classy and well rehearsed performance.

_____________________

With the same looks you walk into the crowd, pretty satisfied with the performance you just had. A bit nervous for what Steve and Bucky had to say. They didn’t know that they would be called on stage and you’re not sure if they’d be happy about it. But you had to do it. It was like this song was made for them.

“That was one hell of show, girl. I loved it.” Natasha squeezed your upper arm softly while smirking. She was the only one who knew that the supersoldiers would be asked to come on stage. You thank her, but also eye Bucky and Steve. When being called on stage, Bucky didn’t seem to mind, but Steve was a different story. He had to be convinced by Nat before deciding not to demonstrate and just go with it.

“You really know how to surprise these old folks, eh?” Bucky smiled widely as he grabbed Steve’s shoulder. You grinned, shrugging your shoulders.

“I hope I didn’t cross any boundaries”, you say innocently, batting your eyelashes with it. Bucky presses his lips together.

“You’re a good performer”, Steve says, his smile a little less wide. It made you a little uncomfortable, as if he only says it to be nice in public, only to give you a speech when you’re alone.

Nat grabs both of your shoulders and tugs you away from the two men, which takes you by surprise. A confusing ‘hmm’ leaves your lips, but Natasha isn’t answering. When they’re both out of earshot, she finally starts talking.

“I’m not trying to… interfere”, she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “But I think you got both men quite worked up.”

Your eyes grow big. “Worked up? Like? Pissed?” Your cheeks start to slowly get more colour.

“Oh my god, no. Are you blind? I mean.. They like the view of you all – how do they say it? – dolled up.” Now you’re of officially blushing. The temperature rises, but you’re far from uncomfortable. Instead, how bad it may be, there’s even a little spark starting to exist in your belly, slowly making its way down to your most sensitive spot.

“What? No, they’re probably just nice”, you try to swat it off, but Natasha just gives you a small wink before returning to the supersoldiers, where Tony has joined them. He gives you a thumbs up, but you’re too busy in your head, thinking of all the things they could do to you.

You never thought about it. Sure, you thought about maybe them, you’re not blind. They’re like two gods. But it never occurred to you that they might actually be interested in you, just an ordinary agent.

_____________________

You sip from your gin tonic while looking at people, they’re dancing and laughing. A little content smile is on your face, realizing that your performance went well and now you can enjoy the night without having to think about a single mission.

“Can I have a beer?”, you hear from your right. He takes a seat next to you, scooting a little closer and now also brushing your arm with his.

“Don’t you love this?”, he asks. You look at him, but he’s still looking at the crowd. “The dancing, the laughing, sipping beer. In a strange way, this reminds me of the 40’s.”

“Yeah, it’s lovely to have an evening where you don’t have to worry about anything”, you smile, looking into his piercing blue eyes, brown hair tugged behind his ears. “Don’t have to think about the missions. Where back in the day, you don’t have to worry about..”

“War”, he finished your sentenced. You didn’t want to finish it, knowing damn well it might still sting, even after so many years. You smile in embarrassment and add a quick ‘yeah’.

“It is, yeah, in a way.” Again, he scoots closer, now obviously touching your arm, hand brushing yours. His pink intertwines with yours as he finally looks at you. Again, red creeps into your cheeks and neck, no way of hiding it.

“Look, doll, I’m going to be honest”, he sighs, voice lower than when he started the conversation. His words made your blood run faster. “What you did on that stage - You look like a real betty and if you feel just as warm as I do, I suggest we go to the elevator and continue the party with just the two of us.”

You do feel warm. No, correction, you feel hot. Your teeth catch your lower lip as you watch him. His eyes are pleading, watching how you figure out what to say without sounding like you’ve planned this.

Instead of saying something, you just nod, still holding your lip between your teeth. He grins, standing up immediately, smoothly passing the crowd and walking to the elevator. You follow, trying not to smile. It’s a desperate attempt so no one will notice what you and Bucky are planning on doing.

When the elevator opens, you both get in quickly. Bucky presses the closing button impatiently, slowly showing how desperate he really is. You chuckle, which he notices.

As soon as the door shuts, he pushes you against the wall, lips on yours. It’s a needy kiss, a bit sloppy as well. Your hands are around his neck in a second, pulling him even closer.

You’d lie if you didn’t think of this while preparing for your performance. It’s a fantasy you thought of, but also put away quickly, since the odds of it happening seemed very small to you. But here you are, kissing one of the two soldiers you desperately wanted in your bed.

When the elevator dings again he stumbles backwards, grabbing your hand while watching you hungrily. You giggle while walking to his apartment, excited for what’s about to come.

When inside, he slams the door, pushing you to it again. “Fuck, I can’t wait to rip this off.” His voice is low, hands roaming your dress, pulling at some of the fabric.

His lips devour your neck, teeth nibbling slightly at the same time. You throw your head back, a small moan coming out of your mouth. “Then do it. Rip it”, you sigh, encouraging Bucky to take it to the next step. He looks at you for reassurance, not sure if you really wanted this dress to be unwearable. But your eyes are closed, waiting for your body to be exposed.

With little effort he rips the seams apart, slowly showing your lace black bra and matching panties, dress somewhere tossed in the room. His hands are on your breast in an instant, squeezing them as if he never wanted something so desperately in his life. A low growl leaving his mouth with it.

He lifts you, your legs wrapping around his thighs. A bit clumsy he stumbled to the bed, almost falling over a pair of shoes that were tossed somewhere in the living room. He wasn’t the cleanest person of the Avengers, but you knew that before this little adventure.

“You planned this, didn’t you? You wanted us to go crazy, to fuck your brains out.” All this time he had a mischievious smirk on his face. “Did you want me? Or Stevie?”

You keep your mouth shut, not knowing what to answer. Your bottom lip is between your teeth again, probably betraying your answer. “Answer me, babygirl.” There’s a slight warning in his voice.

He throws you on the bed. You want to crawl backwards, but he doesn’t allow it. Instead, he grabs you by the ankles and turns you around. “I said answer me.”

God you were loving this, how he handled you roughly. You wondered how far he’d go without you answering. You wondered what he was going to do about the fact that you didn’t say a word. And so, you stayed silent, only a giggle leaving your mouth.

“Oh, so that’s how you wanna play, huh?” You feel the mattrass dip, two seconds after, you feel his hand hitting your ass hard, the sound filling the room. A small hiss passes your lips, but your walls are fluttering. You were practically dripping already and he didn’t even do that much.

Another spank on your cheek has you whimpering. “Bucky please-” “Answer me”, he orders. You want to answer but you can’t, words strangled with each other.

Another slap forces the answer out of you, almost screaming it at him. “Both!”

He stops entirely. Oh shit. Wrong answer?

“Both? You want both of us?” You turn around, facing him while innocently nodding your head. You expect to see confusion on his face, but instead, you see a playful grin.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket and starts texting. “Uh? Bucky?”, your voice is unsure, even a little bit insecure. He doesn’t look up for another few seconds before laying it down and climbing further on the bed, his face close to yours.

“It might be your lucky day.” The words send shivers down your spine. Out of excitement you kiss him, hands in his hair, but he breaks the kiss again. “But don’t count yourself lucky yet, doll. I’m not sure if he’ll come.”

You nod and bat your eyelashes innocently. “Well”, you say, voice more girly than usual. “In the meantime, Sarge, let me give you a good time.”

His eyes darkened, definitely enjoying the name you just called him. He throws himself at you again, his flesh hand dissapearing to your back to release your bra.

You quickly rid yourself of it, exposing your breasts to him. He licks his lips at the sight of it, eyes blown with lust. His metal hand squeezes one of your tits, flicking a nipple in between moves. His mouth find the other nipple while he sucks carefully.

God it feels so good. He makes you feel so good. As much as you want him to move further, you promised him that you were going to give him a good time. And so, you push him off you.

He lays down on the mattress as he pulls his shirt over his head. No time to appreciate the work of art in front of you. You work on the belt, his hardend cock clearly visible as you try to get his pants off as quick as possible.

When you finally push it down, you automatically pull his boxers with it. His cock springs free. Pre cum is dripping off his red head. His cock is thick and you suddenly feel worried if your mouth fits around it.

You look at him in the eyes, shock probably visible all over your face as he chuckles. “Just take as much as you can, babydoll.”

He softly brushes your hair to encourage you. You stick out your tongue and lick down his shaft and back to the tip, where you lick away all the pre cum. Slowly you take him in your mouth, jaws hurting from the stretch.

You start bobbing your head, each time taking him deeper, your mouth opening up and taking him in. Your right hand takes the parts your mouth can’t reach, your left hand is cupping his balls.

He grunts, his hand fisting your hair. “Fuck, yes, like that baby, taking my cock real good.” The words encourage you, your tongue pressing against his vein. His hips buck, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag in a reflex.

You don’t stop. You ignore your own reflexes as you keep trying to speed things up.

“Shit, fuck, god you feel-” His words are cut off by a knock on the door. You stop your movement, eyes gliding to his as his cock leaves your mouth. A big grin spreads across his face.

“Looks like we’ve got company. Why don’t you go look?”

You reach with your hand to your mouth to wipe off the pre cum and saliva, but Bucky grabs your wrist, shaking his head.

“Yes, Sarge”, you say with a little tremble in your voice. This is not happening, right? Is it really Steve who’s behind that door? Did they do this more often? Or is Bucky just messing with you?

You peek through the little hole in the door. Your legs weaken when you see the handsome blonde on the other side. Arms crossed, showing every muscle through the blouse. A feeling of vulnerability taking over. You’re naked and you looked like mess - like a whore.

With trembling hands you open the door, your body still hiding behind it in case someone else walks by. A little shy smile is on your face, but so is on Steve’s. The same one he had when you wanted him on stage. The only difference is the glint of lust in his eyes.

“Uh, come in.” It’s more of a question than an invitation, but he gets in anyway.

When the door shuts, he looks at you completely, eyes scanning your body. God, you couldn’t have felt more exposed right now.

“Steve? You there?” Bucky called from the other room.

“Yes, give me a minute Buck”, he called back, hands going through his hair. Give him a minute?

“God, you’re a real treasure.” He takes a step forward, closing the space between the two of you. He can probably tell how uncertain you are. His hands are now on your body. One in your neck, the other one on your thigh.

He presses his body against yours. Your heart felt like it could jump out of your body any minute now and you’re sure that he had to feel it as well.

“Looks like Bucky already had some fun with you”, he grinned as his put a strand of hair behind your ear. All innocence and shyness was lost as he yanked at your hair, your head falling back. “Think you can give it to me too?”

You nod, but just as Bucky, he wanted words. He pulled a bit harder at your hair. “Can you?”

“Yes”, you answer. He sighed, eyes breaking contact for less than a second.

“Yes what?”, he threatens. His grip tightening even more on your hip. That’s definitely going to be a bruise tomorrow.

“Yes, Captain”, you whisper. Finally he was satisfied with the answer and let you go. He walked toward Bucky’s bedroom, but not before he gripped your wrist and pulled you with him.

As you walk in to the bedroom, you see Bucky slowly moving his hand over his cock, grinning when Steve walks in. Steve gave a smirk in return. Even though you’re a bit confused with what’s happening, you get yourself together in two seconds.

You remembered the words of the Captain. Think you can give it to me too? With that in mind, you stand before him and start unbuttoning his jeans. Steve looks surprised, a smile he can’t hide.

“What are you doing, babygirl?” Steve sounds amused.

“You asked me, right?”, you grin. He lets you do your work as you peel off his jeans - boxer followers soon after. You look up, meeting his eyes. You feel a hand going through your hair.

“Sarge, you gonna watch?” Steve’s still looking at you. You bat your eyelashes at him before taking the first look at his cock. It’s already rock-hard and just as thick - maybe even thicker - as Buckys.

“Yeah, I’m gonna enjoy the show”, you hear from the other side of the room. The bed squeaks, but you don’t pay attention to what’s happening behind you. Your attention is focused on Steve’s cock.

You lick the pre cum off quickly, which makes Steve already grunt low. You press back a smile and open your mouth instead, taking his head in. A little ‘fuck’ comes from Steves mouth.

You take him in further until you feel your gag-reflexes showing up again. Slowly you start bobbing, Steves cock twitching from the good feeling you’re giving him. You can feel that Steve’s different, not as willingly as Bucky is. Not as desperate.

“Fuck- Y/N, hold still for me”, Steve growls. You stop, cock still in your mouth, saliva slowly dripping from your mouth to your chin and on the floor. But you’re pretty sure that your mouth is not the only thing dripping from wetness.

“Be a fucking good girl and stay like this.” It’s his last warning before he starts fucking your mouth himself. He’s panting, growling, grunting. But he’s not the only one. Someone close behind you is also softly moaning.

Steve’s cock triggers your reflexes, making you choke multiple times, but he doesn’t stop. If all, it’s a turn on for him.

“Buck, Sarge, fuck- Come here”, Steve commands. You start to realize that it’s not Bucky who’s in charge here. It’s Steve. And by the looks of it, they’ve done this more than once.

“Gladly”, you hear, making you squirm already. What’s going to happen?

You look at Steve and he’s still looking at you, still fucking his cock in your mouth. He pushes a bit further, which makes you moan around his cock and that results in a hard groan from Steve.

“Good girl”, he says before tearing his eyes away from you and to the other hot soldier. His hands let go of your head again and pulls back, releasing his cock from your mouth.

He crashes his lips Bucky’s, something you didn’t expect, but boy did you like it. This was definitely not the first time. Hell, it looks like they did this every fucking day.

You crawl away from the two of them. Now it’s your time to enjoy the show. They get pretty into it, touching and groping each other. Bucky’s quickly moaning into Steve’s mouth as Steve grabs his cock.

You feel a new heat going through your body. You’re not sure what’s hotter: the fact that they’re practically jerking each other off in front of you, or that Bucky went from dominant to obedient in seconds. Or maybe even the fact that this is a regular thing.

All things together made you squirm, it made you desperate for some pressure down there. And since those two were so into each other, you had no other option than to just start yourself.

You place yourself on the bed, panties lost somewhere on the way. Your finger finds your clit quickly as you watch. Steve’s big hand around Bucky’s cock and Bucky’s metal hand around Steve’s. God, their bodies must be created by angels. Every inch of them is perfectly muscled and tanned.

A small moan leaves your mouth, which caught their attention. Bucky looks surprised, unsure on how Steve will react, but Steve’s just chuckling. “Enjoying it, babygirl?”

You nod. “Yes, Captain. Very much.”

He grins, but quickly focusses on Bucky again. “Why don’t you take over from her, Sarge? Replace those fingers with your tongue.”

You swallow hard at his words, but you don’t stop fingering. Bucky walks towards you, cock jumping with every step he takes. He gives you a playful wink before getting on his knees, hands widening your knees. “Fuck, Cap, look at that.”

You want to remove your fingers, but Bucky gives you a quick warning to keep going. And so you do.

Steve slowly strokes his cock, watching you pleasure yourself. Both men are actually watching you finger yourself. A little whine comes out of your mouth. “Please Sarge, I want your mouth”, you beg, too worked up to feel ashamed.

“Come on, Buck, do as she says. She deserves it”, Steve says. God how much you want to kiss him for saying that. As you were to open your mouth to thank him, Bucky yanks your fingers out of the way and dives his tongue in there, ripping a loud moan out of you.

He circles around your clit, making 8-figures with his tongue. His lips join, gently nibbling at your clit. You’re slowly drifted to the edge, but Bucky knows how to speed that up if he decides it’s time to press a digit into your pussy.

Steve sits next to you and watches Bucky eat you out. Eyes full of lust. You watch him, taking him all in. It’s so fucking sexy that he’s taking charge. How he brought some new energy to this room.

A second finger is being added into your pussy as Bucky pumps in and out of you. You’re a whimpering mess under him, begging him to keep going, to never stop.

“How does she taste, Buck?”, Steve asks. You’re almost whining when Bucky removes his tongue to answer Steve.

“She’s a fucking five star menu. Want a taste?”

Steve grins at the answer. “Move”, is the only thing he says. Bucky smirks and moves, dropping himself next to you. His metal hand squeezing your breast, the other one supporting him to stay on his side.

Another moan rips out of you, from the deepest of your lungs. “Ahhhh, fuck- Steve, fuck yes, feels so good! I’m so close, so close-”

He quickly starts pumping in and out of you with his fingers too, three are now in you, aiming for your release. He curls them, tipping you over the edge. Toes curling, back arching, head in the pillow. You scream both their names. Steve, Bucky, Steve, Steve, Bucky, Bucky.

“Want to be fucked, babygirl?”, Bucky asks if Steve gets his mouth and fingers away from you. “Want our cocks in your pussy?”

You look at him with pleading eyes as you nod. If you talk now, you’re sure it’d sound as weak as a trapped prey.

Steve hovers over you, cock immediately pressuring your overstimulated clit again. “Answer him, doll.” His voice is dark, low and so fucking hot.

“Yes, Sarge. I want your cocks. Both of them. Please, fuck me.” You feel dizzy. You need it, your pussy is begging for it. You need someone to fuck you.

Steve decides to tease you first, his tip teasing your entrance. You buck up, trying to get more of his cock in you. Bucky sees and pinches your nipple a little harder, making you moan. It’s pleasuring but painful at the same time.

“Gotta have patience, babygirl. If you’re a good girl for us, we will let you come.” Steve smiles darkly at you. You know he means it and you’re not willing to risk anything and so you lay still. You barely even dare to breath. You want to cum around his cock.

But he pulls back. You want to whine but decide to be smarter than that. Be a good girl and you get to come.

“Sarge, open her up nicely for me”, he says as he pulls back.

Bucky now quickly gets between your knees. He decides that you’ve been teased enough and pushes directly in you without warning. It’s painful but bearable.

He sets a pace that has your eyes rolled back into your head. Slamming in to you as if he’s been waiting for years.

“F-f-fuck.” It’s all you manage to say.

Steve’s grabbing some lube and puts it on his cock while he watches how Bucky destroys you. You poke your feet in his back, steading yourself since you have a feeling what’s coming. You don’t want to come before the fun has even started.

As Steve takes place behind Bucky, you bite onto his shoulder, trying not to scream out of pleasure.

Bucky’s pace falters. Steve’s probably working him put with his fingers, teasing his hole. A high-pitched moan now coming from Bucky’s mouth.

Steve works him up quickly, adding one finger first, but adding a second one after a few seconds.

After adding a bit more lube on his cock, Steve slowly pushes into Bucky, who pushes into you. All three of you moan. Steve begins setting a pace, a low growl coming out of his mouth. Buckys cock is settling deeper and deeper with each thrust. You can feel his cock twitching.

You’re the first one who says something and you hope you’re not getting punished for it. You can’t get punished for it. You won’t be able to handle it.

“Fuck. S-Steve, Capt-tain, S-Sarge. I- I’m c-coming.” It’s a miracle that those words were formed in your brain, that’s how great it felt.

As his cock hits your sensitive spot, you’re done for. There’s no sound coming out of your mouth. Your walls clamping on to Bucky’s cock. You scratch his back as you stare from Bucky to Steve, who are both watching you come undone.

Bucky’s now the one who’s close. You can feel it, he’s so close, cock twitching with every push from Steve.

“S-Stevie. I’m not g-gonna last.”

Steve’s pace gets slower, his eyebrows quirk up. “Who am I?”

Bucky has his eyes closed, probably too focused on not coming into your pussy.  “Captain!”, he yells. Steve reacts immediately and slams into Bucky, pace faster than before. And that’s all Bucky needs to be driven over the edge.

You moan too, your oversensitive pussy being completely devoured as they keep pushing into you. Bucky’s seed is painting your walls, his fingers clamping the sheets.

Steve’s still lasting. You’re not sure how he does it, but you think it’s the serum. He stops pumping into Bucky and frees his cock again.

“Go rest, Sarge. I need to finish”, he says. Your cheeks were red from stimulation, but his words made you blush. He needed you for his own pleasure.

Steve’s in between your legs. “Want my cock, huh?”

You nod. “Yes, please, Captain.” As ashamed you should be for wanting another orgasm, your shame has left you long ago.

The captain doesn’t show mercy and slams into you, making you squeal. Skin is slapping on skin, balls bouncing against your hole.

“Fuck, you’re such a naughty girl, taking our cocks.” His words help you to another orgasms. It rips out of you so easily as if it’s your first. You moan, walls now clamping to Steve’s cock.

He groans, pace sloppy. Warm seed fills you, Steve’s forehead against yours. His whole body is shaking as he comes. It’s so hot, but you’re all out of energy to feel anything anymore.

Steve slides out of you, head resting on your breasts for a second before rolling next to you. You watch him for a second before turning your head to Bucky.

He gets a towel and some water. They both take care of you and clean you up. It’s like they switched in two seconds. From demanding to soft.

“Uh, so, sorry for your dress”, Bucky says when you’re all cleaned up. You’re underneath a blanket, no spare clothing to wear.

You chuckle. “I asked for it”, you wink. Steve laughs lowly as he pulls you closer. It’s a nice warm feeling. It’s safe, you feel safe.

“I have a few questions”, you say, eyeing the both of them. Steve only looks at you, waiting for the questions to come. Bucky halts you, cutting you off before you can even start.

“That’s very nice, doll. But those questions can wait. Me and Steve’ve been watching you for a while. Wanna safe those questions for a date?”

_____

Tags:

@cametobuyplums @thamuddagirl @tranquil--heart @buckmesideways22 @stuck-y-together @buckysthot

[moralesmilesanhour]

Hai! .3. if you have free time can you do that reader is taking care Miles' Injuries after He was fight with some bad guys? With Fluff? ( ╹▽╹ )

*[F/N]= First Name, just for reference

MILES' VISION SWAM as he regained consciousness, the smell of rubbing alcohol that assaulted his nose being the only indicator that he hadn't died and entered heaven yet. He tensed as someone dabbed cotton with the liquid onto his right knee; it had that stinging feeling even though the alcohol hadn't stung yet.

*•`°★

Miles was able to tilt his chin up a little, towards the window, and landed on the looming figure in front of it. The golden light that shown through the window created a makeshift halo around a dark moon of a face. He couldn't make out distinct features, but a small shift indicated that the face had smiled. It could've been an image on a stain glass window.

The figure, which apparently had been kneeling, got up with a small grunt and broke the halo to draw the curtains. Miles was thankful; he could actually make out where he was now without squinting.

It sure as hell wasn't his room.

Books were neatly lined up along a small white table on one side, held together by a divider. Miles recognized the spine of one of the books: Malcolm X. He knew where he was.

Only [F/N] read things like that, smart-ass.

"Finally awake, huh?"

The voice was hushed, but Miles could still hear the rumble of [F/N]'s voice beneath. This was the first time he'd ever heard the boy make an effort to be quiet. His head was adorned with a durag, a deep, royal purple. Moon-faced, [F/N] cracked a pearly white smile that revealed dimples on either side of his face. Miles tried to smile, but an aching pain blossomed in his cheeks and the corners of his mouth with each attempt.

[F/N] chuckled at the silence.

"You don't wanna talk to me, nah?"

Noticing the flash of guilt in Miles' eyes, [F/N] reassured him, "Ahm jus pullin' ya leg, you all good."

The boy's white tank top hugged the contours of his chest, the lack of sleeves leaving his toned arms out in the open. All those kisses and shared hoodies, and Miles still felt like this was too intimate, like he was looking into the room from the outside.

[F/N] knelt down again, leaning in enough so that he could peck Miles' cheek, gently brushing it with his finger. Miles wanted to cry.

As he rose, [F/N] explained,"You crawled through my window last night. Musta' thought it was your room. Scared me half to death," Miles hummed to indicate he was listening.

"You said sumn about 'not telling mom', then you just passed out." Hearing this, brief memories came flooding back from last night:

There was being thrown against an SUV, always fun, then the wailing of police sirens. Lots of tying and re-tying webs. Miles' last mental image before blacking out was a jostled and confused [F/N] in his tank top and basketball shorts. He wore the same top now, but with baggy faded jeans.

Miles made an attempt, finally, to get up. The first try was quickly halted by the stiff muscles in his back. Miles winced at the sharp pain, prompting [F/N] to rush over, poised to assist. Grinning awkwardly, Miles held up a hand to get him to back away a little. Second try, he actually almost got off the ground, but his legs quickly liquefied under the sudden weight, and Miles came crashing back down. [F/N] stayed put, looking on tentatively with his eyes fixated on Miles.

Third time's the charm.

The A/C had turned on by now, filling Miles' lungs with cool, new air and motivation. Placing his palms on the floor beside him and planting his feet just before his knees, Miles pushed off with a "Hup!"

Success.

Still wobbling on his own two feet, Miles held onto the table's edge for to lean on, panting faintly from the exertion. Finally, he found himself with enough energy to speak.

"Hi," he said with a half-smile, voice raspy from sleep and yelling from the night before.

[F/N] beamed with pride. "Hey", he replied. "Talking again?"

It still hurt to speak extensively, but Miles nodded.

[F/N] closed the distance between them and cupped his hand around the shorter boy's face, bringing his lips down to meet Miles'. Miles wrapped his arms around [F/N]'s neck and deepened the kiss.

They remained still like that for awhile before Miles pulled away. He scanned the room and spotted a shirt and pair of sweatpants.

"You using those?" Miles asked, gesturing toward the clothes.

[F/N] sighed, grinning again. "Take 'em. Ain't the first pair that's gone missing."

"G'looks," Miles said as he clumsily made his way to the pile of clothes sitting on a wooden chair and stumbled toward the bathroom to change out the constricting spandex suit.

*•°`★

[F/N]'s aunt wasn't home yet, so he had brought Miles downstairs to eat something.

Searching through the fridge for something that didn't require a stove, [F/N] found an enormous box of Rice Krispies treats.

"Catch!" Miles let the treats fall onto the table as [F/N] launched them from the fridge.

"What the fuck," Miles laughed, "You couldn't at least cook some eggs?"

The other boy joked, "You better be thankful I ain't burn the house down by attempting to cook, Morales."

Nonetheless, Miles gladly ate the Rice Krispies. He hadn't eaten in God-knows-how-long.

[F/N] joined Miles at the dining table, like a mini-date. It was 7:16 AM now, and his aunt came home at 8. The boy's brows furrowed in thought.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Miles asked.

"Thinkin' about how we gon' sneak you back into your house without your folks knowing." Miles' eyes widened at the realization that he still had to get home. Thank God it was Saturday.

"I know for a fact my mom'll spot my ass climbing through the window," Miles worried, "and she'll have questions about this thing." Miles gestured at the ice pack he was holding against his cheek.

[F/N] thought for a moment. Then his face lit up.

"Tell your mom you're studying," he suggested, as if the idea was ingenious.

"That way you could just chill out over here, then go back whenever. Sound good?"

A whole day with [F/N]. Miles nodded, liking the idea.

"Sounds great."

Dassit! I hope you don't mind me suddenly writing in the third person. I'm still experimenting with what I think flows the best :)

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Fair Won Prize:  Chapter 1

It wasn’t much of a tavern, really. One room, a dozen or so tables scattered around, all of them battered and knife-scarred, and the chairs set before them not that much better. On one side a fireplace kept the room warm, or made a reasonably good attempt at such anyway. The chimney was in good enough condition that the smoke wended its way out of it instead of into the tavern itself.

Vector sniffed at the sight of it, lip curling. “There isn’t anywhere better?”

“Not around here,” Durbe replied, catching the eye of the tavern owner and gesturing him over. “And not that we could get to before that storm breaks.”

“Are you sure it’s going to be a storm?” Vector wanted to know. He wasn’t pouting by any means; this place just looked like trouble waiting to happen.

Vector had no problems with trouble. He just preferred to be the one starting it.

“Gilag is and that’s good enough for me,” Alit said, hands on his hips. “You wanna argue about that?”

Vector sniffed once again but subsided, for the most part. He followed the rest of the group over to the largest table, suitable for seven people only if they were close enough to one another.

Vector made a point to sit next to Mizael. He’d made a point of doing that everywhere they could for the last three months, since they’d formed their little band of adventurers. For one thing, Mizael was the absolutely prettiest of the seven of them, and Vector saw no reason to deny himself an attractive view.

Sitting here also provided him with the chance to remain hidden from most of the other people in the tavern, because they weren’t alone there. With Mizael in his sight and the various groups of thugs, mercenaries, and dimwits out of his sight, Vector thought spending the time of the storm here might be tolerable.

“What can I get for you fine folks?” The tavern owner asked once they’d settled in. “Gotta tell you, we probably don’t have what high-born folks like you are used to.”

Durbe offered a smile. “You might be surprised what we’re used to. But a good round of ale should do for a start.”

Mizael cleared his throat and Durbe chuckled. “I’m sorry. A round of ale for everyone else and if you have some sort of wine, my elven friend here would much prefer that.”

The tavern owner peered at Mizael, who peered right back, head held up high and with a light tilt to his head, asking without words if there were some kind of issue to his presence there.

“A genuine elf? We don’t get many of your – we haven’t seen too many elves around here in the longest time,” the tavern keeper declared. Vector did not like the sudden switch of words, nor did he like the way the keeper kept on staring. Granted, Mizael was attractive, but he was also Vector’s.

He just hadn’t gotten around yet to admitting it. But Vector had plans on that score.

Before the tavern keeper could scurry off, Gilag raised his hand for attention. “Could you bring me some water?” His hand dropped back down, petting Ponta, and the keeper’s gaze followed that way, blinking at the sight of the tanuki.

“O-of course, sir! I’ll be back right!”

He hurried out of sight, eyes still a little round in surprise. The tavern just had one room, but a curtain hung in between the majority of the room and where he presumably kept his stock of liquor. They could hear him moving around back there, pouring out ale, wine, and water.

“So you’re an elf.”

Vector turned back to see half a dozen grungy guys, who looked as if they at best had a nodding acquaintance with a toothbrush and a comb, but probably hadn’t bothered to see a tailor about mending their clothes in some time. Patches and stitched up tears were all done in a very slapdash, haphazard fashion. But to make up for that, every one of them stood a minimum of six feet tall, with muscles on top of muscles, and they all wore nearly identical sneers.

The one in the front, who’d spoken, had his eyes burning toward Mizael, who barely gave them so much as a look. Alit, however, grinned mischievously.

“You’re an elf, Mizael? Why didn’t you tell us?” He reached over to poke at the blond. “Do we really know you, then?”

Mizael rolled his eyes. “I would’ve thought the evidence would be obvious.”

The leader of the intruders glowered at them both. “I was talking to him. No one said you could interfere.”

“You were talking at him,” Ryouga said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I don’t think any of us are interested in a conversation with you.”

Mr. Muscles – as Vector mentally dubbed him, for lack of neither knowing nor caring what his actual name might be – glared at them all, rolling his tattered sleeves up to expose his arms. “I wasn’t talking to you, either!” He took a better look at Ryouga, then started to laugh. “What are you, some kind of a musician? Get out of here with that kind of junk.” He turned his gaze back toward the others. “Can any of you put up a decent fight? It gets boring around here when the weather gets bad.”

He sneered for a moment. “Well, any of you except the pretty elf and the musician.”

The looks exchanged were quicker than lightning and ended with Ryouga rising to his feet.

“Oh, no, I said not you!” Mr. Muscles laughed raucously. “I wouldn’t want to break your delicate hands!”

Ryouga sounded more annoyed than anything else. “If you want a fight, you’re going to get it with me.”

The whole bunch of toughs laughed even harder. Mr. Muscles shook his head and cracked his knuckles hard. “Well, if that’s the way you want it. Just don’t blame me when you can’t warble a tune or play an instrument anymore.”

Vector leaned forward, a gleam of mischief in his violet eyes. “Let’s make this more interesting. I’ll wager a silver that Ryouga puts you on your back in under three hits… and that you never lay so much as a finger on him.”

Mr. Muscles stared at Vector as if he’d never seen someone like him before. “You’ve gotta be joking! What, are you new?”

One of his buddies leaned forward as well. “I dunno, boss, I think we should take his money once you’re done.” A greedy smirk twisted his lips. “I say we take all of his money when you’re done.”

Vector smirked right back at him. I am going to kill you. “Let’s see how this fight comes out first.”

Mr. Muscles and Ryouga moved to the center of the room, Muscles’ minions moving the other tables and chairs out of the way to clear a space. Muscles flexed.

“Remember, all the pain you’re going to have is your own fault. Don’t blame me for it,” Muscles declared. “Got it?”

“Got it.” Ryouga looked more or less bored with the whole thing. Vector wondered where their ale was; it couldn’t take that long to pour out their drinks.

Then Muscles threw a fist at Ryouga, a hit that if it had connected would’ve probably hurt most people.

Ryouga stepped back and moved around, still looking as if this were the worst way to spend an afternoon he could think of, and not out of fear of being beaten up.

Muscles snarled at Ryouga’s near-effortless dodge, and the three or four that followed. “Stop running away! You’re not fighting!”

“All right, if you insist.” Ryouga shrugged before he powered one fist directly into Muscles’ chin, packed with every ounce of his strength behind it.

Muscles blinked. His eyes slowly rolled up to the back of his head and he fell over, not moving. One of his toughs dropped down next to him, hand to his throat. Vector approved of killing a leader while he was down. Perhaps this one showed a little sense.

Then the tough moved back. “He’s alive. He’s just out like a candle.”

Vector mentally sighed. It was so hard to find good assassins these days.

Then he smiled, looking at the rest of them. “I believe I won our wager. Hand over my money.” His eyes flicked from one to the other of them. “I think one silver from all of you will do.” And it would pay for their drinks, too, once the tavern keeper finally brought them out.

Two of the toughs dragged Mr. Muscles out of the tavern while the one who’d spoken up before now started to count out pieces of silver. Vector recounted them openly before he swept them into a neat stack.

“All right. The fun’s over, go away now.” He gave a little flick of one hand before he settled back into his dark cozy corner, quite satisfied with events so far.

The tavern keeper hurried over, carrying their drinks on a tray, and settled it down on the table in front of them. “Sorry for taking so long,” he apologized. “But I heard what was going on and I didn’t want to get in the middle of it and mess your drinks up.”

Ryouga shrugged, reaching for one of the mugs – which at leas looked clean – and tossing it back so fast Vector doubted that he even tasted it. “Sorry for any damages.”

The tavern keeper only shrugged. “Bejt and his group do that kind of thing whenever there’s new people in town. I’m used to it. Your drinks are on me tonight, and just tell me when you want to stop.” He turned toward Gilag, mouth open to ask something else, and froze.

Gilag set the bowl of water he’d been drinking from on their table, while Ponta peered up from where he held the mug of ale in his own paws. The tavern keeper blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then hurried out of sight, leaving them to their drinks.

“I don’t care how much money he could bring in if he’s a real bard,” Bejt growled, staring into the spotted mirror and trying to decide how much of what he saw was because of the low quality of the glass and how much was from that one hit that ridiculous musician landed on him. “I’m going to kill him and I’m going to have fun doing it.”

One of his assistants reached as if to pat him on the shoulder and got a death-glare sharp enough to cut paper from his efforts. He pulled his hand back and managed a quick smile. “Of course you will, boss. Doesn’t matter how good they are, once they finish drinking the good stuff, they’re not gonna be going anywhere we don’t want them to.”

Bejt grinned, showing a mouth that wasn’t nearly as full of teeth as someone without his lifetime of brawling would have. “That elf’s not going anywhere, not until I’m done with him. I’m going to have some fun and then when he’s nice and obedient, I know a goodplace to sell him. He’ll make us enough of a fortune to last for the next twenty years!”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” One of his other assistants spoke up, a nervous twitch to one eye. This wasn’t surprising; Olan twitched about everything. “I mean, they’ve got horses. And one of them is a winged horse. And all that armor. And weapons.” He shuddered, ducking his head. “They look like they know how to use them.”

Bejt shrugged. “They wouldn’t be the first traveling mercs we’ve taken down. Won’t be the last, either.”

“I don’t think they’re just mercs. I mean, winged horse?” Olan shuddered again, staring up at his boss. “I think they’re heroes.”

“Yeah, right.” Bejt snorted. “The whole bunch of them don’t look like they’re together enough to kill a slug, let alone a dragon.” Heroes did things like that. At least they had in all the stories Bejt had ever heard. Killed dragons, rescued princesses from ravening monsters – or monsters from ravening princesses. He’d heard a lot of weird stories.

But that bunch? A musician, a pretty elf, what looked like a priestess, some short kid with maybe half of Bejt’s own muscles and too much of a sense of humor for Bejt’s tastes, someone in armor who might’ve been a down on his luck knight, some guy who had even more muscles than Bejt did but spent his time talking to some sort of fuzzy raccoon thing, and that idiot in the back who never let anyone get a good look at him.

That wasn’t what heroes were made out of it. Heroes had lots of good armor and didn’t stop in places like this, no matter what the weather looked like.

They might’ve thought pretending to be heroes would keep people off of them, but Bejt wasn’t most people. Once they had two or three rounds of the house special, they wouldn’t be awake enough to do anything at all.

That brought his thoughts right around to the pretty blond elf. Elves lived a very long time, he knew, and he couldn’t help but wonder what that elf had done in his life and how much he could be taught. Bejt looked forward to keeping him for at least a few years. He’d need to get properly trained before he could get sold, in order to make the most money, didn’t he? Bejt hadn’t ever trained someone before, but it couldn’t be that difficult. Smack ‘em when they did what Bejt didn’t want them to do until they learned better, that was it

It would definitely be a lot of fun. He looked forward to finding out just how much fun it was. He’d always had an eye for pretty faces of every kind, and there weren’t too many people prettier than an elf. He’d never had the chance to have one like this before, and he looked forward to finding out what it would be like.

All he needed was another hour or so, and then he and the others would be set for life.

Vector sniffed at the mug, then set it back down after taking a tiny taste of the ale. He’d never been much of one for drinking in the first place, at least not drinks that came from places like this. He wondered if it would be too much to ask if one of their mage-types could do something about the storm so they didn’t have to stay here at all.

We could get some decent food and drinks somewhere else. Maybe even a good bed. He knew that being on the road didn’t entitle him to the comforts of home, but they could at least have some comfort of some kind.

He leaned his head back against the wall and winced at the shock of thunder that rolled on by a heartbeat later. No one else looked bothered by the rain at all. Gilag sat on the outside of the table, closest to the door, and from the way he kept looking out there, it wouldn’t have been too surprising if he got up to wander out there. Druids did things like that, soaking up the rain. Vector had no idea of why druids couldn’t invest in some kind of weather protection. Maybe it was a religious thing.

He’d never wasted his time on religion and until he’d come to join this group, he hadn’t associated with religious types of any sort. But traveling with a druid and a priestess meant that he got more than he’d ever wanted of the whole concept.

He let his gaze drift back to Mizael. He could think of one or two gods he’d like to thank for the creation of the elven race and for Mizael in particular. Along with one or two he’d consider offering up a tribute to in order to get the elf compliantly in his bed, without risking Jinlong having him for dinner or the rest of the group getting furious at him.

Which meant he would have to keep on courting Mizael so that it was all willing on his side.

He wasn’t used to having to ask for what he wanted. Or who he wanted. He’d commented once at breakfast that he’d seen an attractive person the day before in the marketplace and that evening, that same person awaited him in his bed, courtesy of his father.

That had been an enjoyable few months, all things considered. If it had been possible, or workable with his father’s plans, he didn’t doubt that he would’ve already enjoyed time with Mizael.

I think this might be more interesting, though. Frustrating, but enjoyable in the end, once he’d achieved his goal. There was something to be said for getting something desired by hard work instead of being given it.

Vector glanced to the others again, the sound of the rain battering against the side of the building, making it plain they weren’t going anywhere right now. He suspected Rio and Gilag would both insist that they shouldn’t try to mess around with the weather, something about natural causes and not interfering. That made no sense to him at all. What good was magic if you couldn’t use it to twist the world around to the way you wanted it to be?

His eyes narrowed suddenly as he took in what was going on with his companions. He wasn’t surprised to see Gilag’s eyes drooping, let alone Ponta’s, not with that rain. If it didn’t call a druid out to dance in the rain or whatever, it would probably put them to sleep.

But Ponta spent so little time being visible when they were in civilized territory that Vector almost forgot he even existed. There he was, having finished his ale – you’d think a magical creature would have better taste than that! - and now curled up on Gilag’s lap, sound asleep.

Vector checked on Alit: already asleep. Durbe was as well, eyes closed and chest rising and falling evenly. Ryouga still had his eyes half-open, and Rio looked as if she were fighting off the urge to sleep herself.

He looked at Mizael then, and knew something was wrong.

Elves don’t sleep. Not like that, anyway. Mizael had explained it once, but Vector had been too wrapped up in admiring the way the sunlight glinted off the elf’s golden hair to pay attention. He sort of wished that weren’t true now.

But Mizael’s eyes were as tightly closed as the others, even as Ryouga’s slid all the way shut, and Rio followed him into slumber in another few moments.

This wasn’t right in the slightest. Vector’s thoughts raced before he chose his path, closed his eyes, and let himself sag a little more, as if he’d succumbed as well. There wasn’t any use in trying to wake them up. They’d be too sluggish to do anything for too long. Not to mention, Vector had a feeling he knew who was involved in this, and he swore he’d paint the walls with their blood.

He couldn’t see what was going on, but after what felt like forever, he could hear footsteps entering, and a sense of shadow fell over him. He kept himself from moving, no matter how much he wanted to, and listened.

To Be Continued

Note: And now we return to the world of the Order of the Outcasts. This is that little interlude piece to explain something. A larger piece revolving around Yuuma, Kaito, Haruto, and Astral will come at a later point, on SilvorMoon's profile. But until then, I hope you enjoy this.

[baybee45]

A/N: Lieutenant Thire!Reader/"criminal reader"

Anything in italics is your internal dialogue hopefully that is clear but just case it wasn't. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: PG, unless Star Wars swearing counts, If it does PG-13.

It's pretty fluffy with a a dash of spice.

Our Story

    "Stop right there!" The red and white armored trooper sternly warns. You freeze and slowly turn to face him, his blaster aimed and ready, as you nonchalantly raise your hands. You take the moment to catch your breath and think of a plan.

    "You're very fast sir, ya really must be something under all that armor. Maybe we can settle this with a drink? See where the night takes us?" You coyly ask, edging slowly towards the ledge. The updraft off the building blows strands of your messy hair wildly.

    "Your attempt at flirting isn't going to work with me. I will shoot! Now Stop Moving!"

    You come to a halt partially listening to his warning, but mostly because your heels were already teetering off the ledge of the roof. There was a decent 10 feet between you and jail time. Your mind races through the dwindling option for escape as two other troopers make their way up to the roof. The initial trooper with a pauldron-- that means he is higher rank, a lieutenant or captain maybe, you couldn't remember-- motions to the others and they make their way towards you with binders in hand.

    "I mean I don't even know your name yet sir. And honestly, I've never really been into handcuff but if that's your thing..."

    The troopers blaster waivers slightly and you swear you heard him chuckle as he shakes his helmet nearly imperceptibly. Tilting your own head to the side, you look at him through batting eyelashes and give him a mischievous smile.

    "You know if you shoot me, I'd most likely fall off the side of this building." You sigh. "Not a great ending to our blossoming story."

    "Well, don't move and Our story will continue, uh blossoming on... Lieutenant Thire" He clarifies. You hear a flapping sound, glancing down you see curtains blowing in the funneled wind.

An open window.

"Staying Still? Hmmph, now where's the fun in that Lieutenant!?"

    "Don't you dare! Hurry it along troopers!" He quickly barks. Thire must have seen the the glimmer in your eyes, or maybe the glint of the knife hidden in your sleeve. Giving them all a quick farewell salute, you jump back diving feet first down the side of the apartment.

    "For kriffsake!" You hear Thire yell, as you fly down the side of the building only slowed slightly by your vibroblade slicing into the duracrete. It was truely a beautiful firework display of sparks, flashing this way and that, off the speeding wall. Then with some skill and a lot of luck, you catch the top ledge of the window and swing yourself in.

A slight wobble in the landing, but a solid 9 for the overall execution.

    You try to orient your self in the dark room and then are momentarily blinded when the lights turns on. When your eyes are finally are able to adjust and focus you see a very, very large green Twi'lek. He is blocking you from an easy exit. His tiny human partner cautiously comes up behind him holding a bat.

Great!

    "Good evening folks" you greeted them with the ease of second hand speeder sales man.

    "What in the kriffing hell! What are you doing in here!" yelled the foreboding Twi'lek.

    "What do you mean..." You pretended to be shocked looking to the Twi'lek and then his partner who is still nervervously holding on to the bat.

    "You didn't get a written notice from your land lord?" You questioned and suddenly act as if you just now saw the weapon in her hands. The green giant looked down to his partner and his partner back up at him. Both looked equal and extremely confused.

You can work with this.

    Pulling out your datapad from your bag and start angrily taping the keys, pacing slightly with your back turned to them. "Steve! You son of a bantha! I could throttle you, just kill him!" You fumed to your small audience, trying to quickly put together a holonet site to give the story your weaving some actual weight.

    "I try, You known, to tell him," you said sounding exasperated. "I tell him a partnership takes two people... Two people working as a team." Your two suspicious hosts look to each other and back at you. Still unsure of what to make of this intruder and the verbal diarrhea of new information being spewed at them.

A troubled partnership with someone named Steve. That will be the key out of this situation, the legend that will be Steve and his inability to do his job.

    "When he doesn't do his part I get shafted." You practically wept, still avoiding eye contact with your increasing worried audience. You let out a resigned sigh, rubbing your temples trying collect yourself. Buying enough time for your site to become live. With a relieved but tired inhale you continue your one man show.

    "I'm so sorry, My name is Maree Jakorr" you said thinking of a grade school classmates mother. "And I'm part of a start up security company." You turn your datapad over and show them the holonet site you just put together. Its was barebones but got the job done.

It's Steve for kriffsakes, he can't even call up potential clients, and make sure the tenants are informed. There isn't much hope for his holonet site design abilities.

       You take another deep breathe you were getting a little too deep into lore. "As you can see we do mock break-ins to find weakness and then try implement different measures to increase security and safety. Of course this is supposed to be done with the home owners knowledge and consent." You explain. With a partially exaggerated groan you put away your datapad. "Well this is going to be fun to explain to the CG."

    "The gaurd doesn't have to know" squeaked the human. "I mean we don't need to call them." She said more confidently looking up at her partner. The Twi'lek looked lovely down nodding his head and pulling her in close.

You instantly adore these two, and make a mental note to send them something later for their trouble.

    "Oh you're too sweet hun, but as part of the test we call the CG to see how long it take them to respond to a threat. You know, extra data points for the algorithm, if that makes sense."

"Oh."

    "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience." You say truely apologetic. "Well I guess I should leave you two be, so you can get some resemblence of a normal evening back."

    "Feel free to use the front door... or window if you prefer." Joked the Twi'lek. They both chuckle and she stands on her tip toes giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Gosh these two.

    "I'll try my luck with the front door I think." You laughed. As you hand reaches for the handle, you can hear the sounds of troopers knocking on doors as they sweep the hall. Their footsteps and voices getting louder as they near.

Crap!

    "Do you mind if I use the fresher quickly before I go?"

They both nod their heads and the Twi'lek takes the bat from his partner and puts it away in the closet. "Just that door there at the end of the hallway."

    "Thank you so much, I promise I'll be out of here in no time." You say closing the door behind you, making sure not to lock it. You search the cozy room, looking for an alternative way out. Not to thrilled with the prospect of using window again for escaping. Hopefully it wouldn't be needed, only a options, the last resort, hopefully.

    Depsite the nerf burger, extra fries and large shake you devoured for dinner, you manage to squeeze yourself from the air vent of the apartment and into the slightly larger main vent of the building.

    Without a second to spare you see the troopers through silted grate, knock on the door of the apartment you once occupied. Your tempted to eavsedrop on the conversation, knowing you had given that beautiful couple enough information to give the undoubtedly handsome Lieutenant a headache. You think better of it, and make your long overdue escape.

    Once out of the building you causal walk the back alleyways making your journey home. You send Lieutenant Thire a link and a small message;

"Dear Lieutenant Thire,

I hope this holonet link clears up any misunderstanding between you and the lovely and completely unsuspecting couple in apartment 459.

Sincerely, 'Our story lives on for another day.'

P.S. Please excuse the poorly designed website, Steve did his best. Best regards xox 💋. "

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: None

A/N:  Y’all, the end is here and I’m super sad about it?  Like I’ve been in this world for the better part of a month and I don’t want to leave!  This is absolutely the longest things I’ve ever written (all told, it’s 45 pages and 25,547 words) and I’m super fucking proud of myself and I’m so glad y’all were part of this journey.  Jack and Shirley will have cameos in my next fic, so they aren’t completely gone.  Not yet, anyway.

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5] [PART 6]  [PART 7]  [PART 8]  [PART 9]  [PART 10]  [PART 11]  [PART 12]  [PART 13]  [PART 14]

Part 15 

Tomorrow

Shirley flicked her wrist to open the curtains in her office, letting the morning light spill into the small room.  She set her things on the desk and began to bring the library back up to its daytime speed.  While she made sure the library was open to all Statesmen staff at any time, most operations only occurred when she was in office during the day.  She walked over to the window that faced out into the hallway to open the blinds.  She did all that she could not to make such a small space feel like a cave.

As she turned, her eye caught the glint of a picture frame on her shelf. She looked at it more closely and realized it was a picture of her and Jack at one of the Statemen’s tapping parties about two years after they started working on missions together – he the agent on the case, she his trusty Girl Friday researcher.  They had grown close early on, but that night of the party is when they finally admitted their feelings for one another.  You could feel it radiate off the picture.

“Moonshine, you take my breath away, you know that?”  Jack looked her up and down in the hunter green cocktail dress she wore for the evening.  The satin felt cool and smooth against his hand as he guided her out of her apartment.

“I’m sure I do.”  She replied jokingly as they waited for the elevator.  He suddenly spun her around to face him.  The serious look on his face stopped any comment from leaving her mouth. He stared at her intensely and for the first time, she felt a little uneasy under his gaze.

“Marigold, I’m not joking.  Whenever I see you, hear you, smell you, hell, even thinking about you, I feel like I’m gasping for air.  You consume me and I love you.  I will love you until time ends.” He looked at her, watching her emotions play out on her face.  She looked up and he could see tears forming in her eyes.  For a moment he wasn’t sure if the leap of his heart was fear or love. Then she brought up her hands to hold his face, thumbs rubbing his jawline absently.

“I know you’re not joking, Jack.”  Her voice wavered as the tears spilled over her lids and down her cheek. “I feel your love every day.  I wrap it around me like a blanket and when I go to sleep at night, I keep it close to me.  God, I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, loved you when you tried that stupid cowboy flirting thing you do.  I will fucking love you from the depth of my soul until I die!”

He started to laugh with delight, and he wrapped his arms around her in a hug, lifting her off the ground.  She tightened her arms around his neck and started laughing with him. When the elevator doors opened, Ginger and Tequila found the two lovers in their embrace.  Ginger looked over at Tequila, who rolled his eyes and produced a twenty from his pocket.  She yanked it out of his hand with a devilish grin.

Jack and Sirah broke apart at the sound of the ding.  Smiling, they walked hand-in-hand into the elevator. Tequila slapped Jack’s back and Ginger looped her arm through Sirah’s and they looked at each other and giggled the whole ride down.

Shirley smiled at the memory and lightly touched the photograph before moving on.  She left her office and began opening blinds and curtains throughout the rest of the library.  As she walked past the bank of computers, making sure they were on and ready for the day, Shirley heard something from one of the stacks.  She stopped to listen, but didn’t hear it again, so she moved on.  She continued her morning routine and when the bell tinkled above the door, she greeted a young agent as they entered.  Her life was back to normal it seemed.

After she got the agent settled with the requested materials, Shirley gathered up her return cart to restock her shelves.  She moved down each aisle, putting her little world back in order when suddenly she turned the corner and saw two very embarrassed agents staring back at her.

“Good morning Ginger, Merlin.”  Shirley couldn’t stop the slow spread of the shit eating grin that formed on her face. It wasn’t the first time her stacks had been used for purposes other than research, but she was a little surprised to see the two of them there, holding each other.  She mentally groaned, knowing she just lost fifty dollars to Tequila because she thought they’d be caught in the tech room.

“Shirley.”  Merlin’s soft brogue sounded a bit rougher than normal and he cleared his throat. “Good to see you this morning.  You’re looking quite well today.”

“As are you, Merlin.”  She replied. “If you could do me a kind favor and just put this book back on the shelf behind you where the marker is, I’d be much obliged.  Also, for next time?  Historical speculative fiction upstairs is always empty.”

She handed the book over, gave them both another smile, and then walked off. She was nothing if not a patient woman and she knew Ginger would tell her everything later.  As she sat at her desk, she kept an eye on her little world and on the stacks.  When she saw no one leave, she smiled again.  Oh, she couldn’t wait for such a good story.

An hour later, she heard movement and looked up to see Ginger and Merlin coming down the stairs from the second level.  His hand brushed against her back the entire way down and when they reached the first level, Shirley could see Ginger’s hand lightly brush against Merlin’s as they smiled at each other.  They walked to the door and from where she sat, Shirley could see reddish spots on the smooth skin of Merlin’s head.  Oh yes, this was going to be a great story.

Merlin dipped his head and left the library and Ginger waited a beat before sprinting across the room to Shirley’s office and slamming the door. The few folks in the library jumped at the noise, but otherwise, everything was normal.

“GINGER!” Shirley squealed and Ginger closed her eyes and clapped her hands while giggling.  “This better be worth the fifty bucks I owe Tequila now.”

“Oh, is it EVER!”  Breathed Ginger, pulling Shirley to the couch.  They curled up and gossiped about their men for a long time.  Their giggles and laughter sometimes leaving the office, but otherwise, everything said remained between the two women.

Later that day, Shirley went to Tequila’s office and found him sitting at his desk reviewing reports.  He looked up when she walked in and when she laid down a brand new fifty-dollar bill, he grinned.  She grinned back.

---***---

“Moonshine, you ready?”  Jack’s voice called her from the doorway of her office.  She turned to look at him and nodded.

“Let me just grab two things and I’ll lock up.”  The twilight outside of her office peeked through the closed curtains.  The day had gone fast and she reveled in the normalcy that her day to day world was now taking on again.  She had thought that after Agent Kirsch had died and released her from those invisible bonds that she would resent the library.  But she didn’t and if anything, she recognized this world was her catharsis, giving her back a sense of normalcy.  Him dying just finalized that feeling.

As they left her office, she stopped to chat with one of the admins, Cooper, about some things he was working on and what he would need the next day. After saying good-bye, Jack held Shirley’s hand as they left the library and headed to the elevator.  They were heading out for a night on the town to enjoy the lovely spring weather that finally came to Louisville.  Shirley rested her head on his shoulder, and he tightened the hold on her hand.  The ride down was a comfortable quiet and when the doors opened, they stepped out into the foyer.

When they exited the building, Shirley paused a moment to close her eyes and breathe deep.  When she opened them, she found Jack looking at her with a small smile on his lips. She nodded while grabbing his hand again and they headed out into their new tomorrow together.

[ohyangchon]

pray for me

I have Changjae brainworms and I will scream 

More Secret Forest fic because 2 weeks couldn’t fly by soon enough! 

Characters belong to Lee Sooyeon and TvN, Yeonjae’s iteration is my own (kinda). 

She'd sat in silence for the longest time after processing Changjoon's letter. It was there and then that it'd finally sank in that he was gone: taken, robbed from her on his own terms. He'd broken his promise to her to be with her in sickness and in health, and the gavel had fallen in that until death, did they part. Returning the letter where she'd gotten it, she got up and left, not acknowledging the prosecutor who'd offered her it in the first place.

The walk to her car was longer than she remembered, her body moving as if she was on autopilot. She had the route memorised, Changjoon having walked her through the same hallways so many times when she'd come to visit him in between work, and as she plodded on with her head held high, she caught the snippets of people gossiping around her as they passed her by. There was no need for her to lower herself to the opinions of such folk, though, but she soon found herself in front of her car, searching for her keys in her clutch before catching the glimpse of the wedding ring on her left hand.

He'd been so proud of it, the day he'd finally proposed to her. It was two decades since then, but memories kept swimming to the surface, mocking her for not noticing the subtle changes in her husband leading up to the decision that would change her forever. She pulled her gaze away, sticking her hand inside decisively to let herself in before leaning back against the seat of the car, closing her eyes and allowing her tears to fall.

This was why he'd sent her away. He didn't want her to see him make that decision and try to stop him. Yeonjae's glare fell on the ring again, and she brought it up to her eye level once more.

"Why were you so stupid," she asked herself quietly, addressing someone who was no more, "We swore a sacred oath together...yet you kept your suffering from me this whole while..." With a resigned exhale, she turned on the ignition and began to drive, her thoughts muddled with his final words and everything that'd led to whatever she was now experiencing.

Yeonjae felt like she was slowly burning away whenever she was reminded he was gone, smoldering at the edges as a part of herself died with him. They'd been inseparable since their marriage, and one was rarely seen without the other. Suddenly, everything had changed overnight, and even as she fidgeted with the two rings on her left hand, she felt the hollowness deep within her.

Everything seemed to remind her of his absence. The empty space where he'd sleep next to her, sneaking into bed during late nights with his customary wiggle to kick his shoes off in the hopes that he wouldn't wake her. The study he would recline in during his days off to read and sort his documents, oftentimes breaking out of a deep reverie with a wide, goofy grin seeing her approach. The dinner table that seemed a little too long for just her and her alone. The chill that'd set into the now-far-too-big house.

She remembered every set of platform shoes she'd put away since his death, polished to a shine but never seeing the light of day again, and the neatly-pressed suits she'd put into a box for safekeeping, only keeping one hanging in their shared closet as if wilfully hoping this was all just a dream and he would return the next day to put it on. There were his cardigans too, the casual attire he'd wore at home around her: a red one laid on her bed next to her while she slept, and she would curl over in a feeble bid to seek his familiar scent, but it all felt like sand slipping through her grasp.

-----

On her request, he'd been dressed in one of the cardigans and a comfortable pair of slacks. The suits were too burdensome, more a set of chains that'd tied him down for the past two decades. He could finally be free of both, and she'd declined looking at his body throughout the matter. She'd cried far too much, and more than enough: she couldn't possibly let him go the moment she saw his lifeless form before her.

Even then, as they began lowering the coffin into the plot for burial, Yeonjae continued to stare blankly forward, allowing this to occur with an air of resigned silence. Nobody had dared showed up for the funeral, not after Changjoon's bombshell exposing her parents' company and pulling the rug under all the contacts he'd been close to. They'd sooner spit on his corpse and label him a traitor than truly come to honor him, and she was happy for the silence that surrounded them both.

It'd always been him and her against the world. Even to the end. As the coffin began to disappear under the piling soil that was shoveled over it, she watched the rays of the setting sun bathe the cemetery in a brilliant orange glow and shut her eyes, allowing its warmth to seep into her weary bones. For the first time since he'd passed, she tilted her head upwards and gave a small smile, feeling the evening breeze sweep through her hair and the fists balled to her sides sagging.

"Thank you, yeobo," she managed to whisper, hoping that wherever he was that he could hear her, "I'll continue for us. You worked hard. You can rest now...I'll try to finish what you started. I'm sorry." Opening her eyes once again, the plot had already been filled, and in its place stood the large mound with the carving on the tombstone that sealed everything- Lee Changjoon Rests Here.

-----

She poured some soju over the mound, carefully withdrawing her hand as she began to reminisce. "When I first drank soju at the pojamacha, you were there with me," she chirped, keeping her voice steady but tears beginning to brim once more in her eyes. Her voice quaked as the accusations she'd wanted to scream died out, instead coming out as a whimper of "Why didn't you tell me? You should've told me."

"You made me feel so safe," she continued, lost in thought while she monologued, "What are you doing, tucked away six feet under?"

Her voice finally cracked as her final words hitched against her breathing. "Are you...at peace there?" her voice cautiously ventured, before she apologised, over and over as she finally broke down. No apologies would bring him back, she knew this deep in her heart, but she felt that so much she'd wanted to say had now lost meaning with his demise.

Lee Yeonjae, the all-powerful, had her moments of vulnerability. She'd only loved once, and only one man was for her, who was now the mound that stood before her.

As she covered her mouth with the back of her right hand, the soju bottle still in her other, the morning sun continued to beat down relentlessly upon them both, mocking their eternal separation.

-----

After a while, she'd started growing her hair out, letting it curl naturally at the ends in a light bounce. She didn't really keep that style before: it was impractical for her then, but she wanted to try something new to signify her growth.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she tilted her head from side to side in a confident smile, before glancing out towards the window at the sun peeking in through the curtains. "Cheeky bastard," she scoffed quietly, opening the blinds and staring out into the horizon, "Making the sun shine brightest whenever you want to see me. Did you get a permit for it?"

She laughed to herself at the joke she'd made: and could almost feel his deep laughter tittering alongside, slipping on her heels and adjusting the watch on her wrist- its screen had a slight crack upon it, but that was all the damage it'd sustained during the fall. It didn't fit her style, argued her secretary once when she'd pointed out the silver watch she'd always had on while entering work, but a dirty look from the older woman was enough to silence her.

What did she know? Yeonjae's grin didn't waver as she stepped out of the house, heading towards the office. Even as the sun beat down upon her frame, it didn't seem hot or discomforting: in fact, it felt like a warm embrace. As she entered her office, her smile finally faded, and she opened the blinds of her office to allow the sun to filter through.

Her phone lit up: a picture of Changjoon and herself, her seated and his hand on her shoulder while the other rested in his pocket as they stared at the camera. While they'd both looked stern in the portrait itself, Yeonjae knew the little secret of how silly he'd been behind the scenes when he'd tried to make a pose someone would actually take seriously.

Something's happened in Tongyeong, came the message that illuminated her screen, It might be linked to two years ago. Do you want to look into it?

They needed to say no further. Yeonjae scooped the phone up, her fingers flying across the keypad on the screen.

Ask better questions. Of course I will get involved. I promised him as much. His legacy is mine.

Once she was done, she leant back in her plush chair, hands folded on her stomach as she tilted her head backwards with an indulgent smile.

She remembered, and endeavored to ensure she wouldn't forget...and now, she could finally fulfill it.

[itsclydebitches]

Title: Mightier Than the Sword (Chapter Four)

Fandom: Witcher

Summary: A month after the events of “Rare Species,” Geralt slinks his way into an inn and is faced with the question of how an emotionless man apologies. (TV!canon with some details drawn from the books and Wild Hunt.)

Pairing: Slow burn Geralt and Jaskier

Word Count (This Chapter): 2,486

Where to read it: Below or on AO3

“See?” Jaskier said. “This is why I must... revise our adventures, so to speak. No one would ever believe me if I told them the truth.”

He was gesturing to the two men kneeling in a patch of wet leaves, both heads bent to expose their necks, a common act of submission in these parts of Temeria. The elder of the two snuck out a hand to wrap around the wrist of his companion.

“Please don’t hurt us, Master Witcher,” he said, no longer boasting the confident tone of a man who thought himself king of the wood. “Me and my son were just lookin’ for some supper. That’s it. I swear it to you. We didn’t mean to interrupt you an’ your... ah...”

Jaskier leaned close, his shirt just a hair’s breadth from Geralt’s armor. “Ohhh yes, please finish that sentence. What do you think I am? I’m not his ‘friend’ as I fear we’ve already butted heads like rams over that one. Not his ‘bard’ either as I’m far more than just some tawdry performer. Your ‘companion,’ perhaps? Eh, makes me sound like some sort of escort.”

With a sigh Geralt sheathed his sword, watching the men visibly relax. Rather funny that they thought this made him less dangerous. “He’s my curse.”

“Oh! Curse? Thanks. Thanks ever so much for that. I’ll just toss ‘He’s my curse’ next to ‘Filling-less pie.’ In fact, I should start a list. The many insults of Geralt of Rivia. Provide enough of them and I might just get a song out of it. Go on then. Anything else to add? My quill awaits.”

Geralt didn’t consider himself particularly skilled at reading people. Not unless he sought the signs of murder and betrayal. Yet in that moment he would have bet Roach that Jaskier was... teasing him. Just something about the hands on his hips and the hint of a smile. He knew now that Jaskier went quiet when he was hurt, as Geralt had witnessed just moments before. This performance didn’t compare to the tiny ‘How?’ he’d spoken, head dipped down towards his knees.

So Geralt attempted... something. Another apology maybe.

“I’m done for now,” he said, trying for the tone that he sometimes heard long-suffering wives using to discuss their husbands. Some of it must have gotten through because Jaskier rolled his eyes heavenward, ‘for now’ muttered on the tip of his tongue.

Meanwhile, the man had gathered courage enough to lift his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You... won’t be attackin’ me an’ my boy?”

No, of course they wouldn’t. Over the remains of yesterday’s breakfast Jaskier, never one to give up an opportunity for storytelling, explained that they’d initially feared them. His dear witcher only drew his sword as a precaution, not a warning, and there had never been a reason to kneel like that, so sorry about your trousers. Funny though it was. Now then, what brings you two this far out for a bit of dinner?

“Game’s scarce nowadays,” Yoven said, tearing into the meat of a small bird. He’d likewise introduced his son, Lin, a quiet boy more interested in his boots than the conversation. He ate his own fill when it was handed to him though and kept one shoulder pressed to his father’s at all times. “Need to keep headin’ deeper. Every fortnight it seems. Don’t know what we’re gonna do when the snows hit.”

Geralt felt the same. He’d wanted something substantial for the two of them, especially with winter on the horizon, but he’d had to settle for those warblers and the occasional grub. Jaskier had expressed his displeasure—quite vocally—at Geralt eating whatever he came across in the soil, but what was taste to a witcher? It was an easy source of protein they couldn’t afford to pass up, not now that the nights were growing longer and the air crisper with each passing breath. Soon all but the monsters would be in hibernation and Geralt didn’t think Jaskier could stomach a Nekker heart if he wasn’t willing to eat a measly worm.

It was a problem he hadn’t thought about when Jaskier had first joined him, not when the weather was kind and the chance of him staying past the next town nothing but a well-hidden fantasy. Now, with Fall nearing its end and this unspoken agreement between them, questions of a practical nature had begun to surface. How would he feed them? Would Jaskier survive the cold? Geralt tried to remember everything he’d learned about human physiology and how it compared to a witcher’s. How long could Jaskier go without fresh water? Surely not the two weeks Geralt could manage. Some night when food was once again scarce and he was weary from battle, would he remember that risom berries were fatal to everyone else, or would Geralt mistakenly offer him a handful of poison? How long could a human travel before exhaustion took hold? If he were injured what salves were safe to use? Would Jaskier even tell him these things, or would he insist it was all fine up until he collapsed? It hadn’t been terribly long since that day at the swamp, but with each passing moment Geralt grew more and more consumed by the same realization: humans were not meant to walk the Path.

Yet here Jaskier sat, creating a mirror to Lin and Yoven. The only difference was the absence of touch and Geralt suddenly had the strong urge to press their shoulders together, completing the picture.

If he were humble, Geralt would lead them to the next prosperous settlement and ask Jaskier to sing. Drum up some of the coin he could clearly earn and share it with him, securing their survival.

If he was smart he’d lead them both to Kaer Morhen for the winter, where food and protection were plenty and he needn’t fear a sudden shift in their host’s hospitality. However, the thought of bringing Jaskier to a witcher’s fortress...

If he were both, Geralt would simply leave the bard behind.

All these thoughts passed through him in a moment, following the tail of Jaskier’s expression as he watched Yoven devour cold, congealing meat. A mere second to assess the situation as he would a battle. Then the conversation continued.

Yoven explained that they were from another small town just three miles from here, one of Temeria’s many. Indistinguishable unless you considered that they specialized in building and exporting wagons as opposed to fish, herbs, nets, weapons, boots--whatever else one might need to continue with a war. Or life. It amounted to much the same. Does your town have a name? Jaskier asked. Not unless you count the profanity with which most referred to it. Are you and your witcher heading somewhere in particular? Not really. Wherever we’re needed, and Jaskier ended his comment with a little laugh. As if the concept of anyone needing him was a joke in and of itself.

Geralt, meanwhile, was watching the boy.

“You’ve something to say,” he announced, startling all three. Indeed, it was an easy enough conclusion, even without Lin’s guilty look. Geralt may not have had Jaskier’s talent for small talk, but he could always tell when someone held something back. His livelihood depended on it.

“Well? You can speak freely. We don’t bite,” and Geralt bared his teeth, ignoring the glare Jaskier shot at him.

“We really don’t,” he insisted.

It was Yoven who opened his mouth though. He must have been at least fifty years old, judging by the white in his beard. A substantial age for a human and, like the confident tone they’d first heard at his approach, Yoven was clearly used to commanding respect among his peers. He was halfway through insisting that no, his boy just had that air about him, when Lin finally looked up from his boots with,

“They can help.”

Three words in a mouse’s voice, but ones Geralt knew well. He leaned forward. Help meant trouble. Trouble meant coin. And coin meant he could give Jaskier something other than the soft bones of a bird to eat.

Yoven scowled. “There’s nothin’ to help with.”

“There is! Talden said—”

“Talden? ‘Don’t know how that mug got broke’ Talden? ‘I swear them chickens just ran off’ Talden? That Talden? You’d believe your own arse grew outta your nose if Talden told you so.”

“Lovely image,” Jaskier murmured.

Hmm. Perhaps a fool’s errand then. Or a case of a child crying werewolf. It wouldn’t be the first time some mischievous youngster had been scoffed at when they reported a sighting, only for folk to find them torn to pieces the next morn’, their lying punished too harshly. Only sure way to know was to get details, so Geralt eased himself off the log and knelt before Lin. No more attempts to frighten. Rather, he pulled in his shoulders to appear smaller than he was, kept his hands where Lin could see them, and allowed white hair to partially curtain his face, hiding a bit of the sallow skin and inhuman eyes. It wasn’t much, but Geralt had learned over the decades that even the smallest bit might help. Lives had been lost and saved on far less.

It was one of the reasons why he didn’t believe in destiny. Or, if she were real, why she must also be cruel. Only someone with ice in their heart would wager so much on whether another thought him decent to look upon.

Or simply thought of him at all.

“Talden,” Geralt said, trying to smooth out the rough edge in his voice. He didn’t succeed. “This a friend of yours?”

Lin nodded.

“He saw something? Something that scared him?”

“Heard it,” Lin said, snaking out a hand to grab hold of his father’s shirt. The older man allowed it with a sigh, gesturing for him to go on. It was only then that Geralt realized the child was far younger than he’d first assumed. Almost too young to be out in these woods. Especially if something stalked them.

Lin took a swallow of the water Jaskier offered before going on. “He heard somethin', Master Witcher. Just a few nights back. See, Laren’s our neighbor. Talden’s neighbor too. We all live close, so we all heard when she came screamin’ in the morn about her sister. She was gone. Vanished during the night. Old Roger said she’d run off with a boy from the town over, but Laren says there was no boy. No runnin’ off then either. And Talden told me he heard things a few hours before dawn. Monster things,” and he went back to chugging the water, whispering that last bit.

Geralt tilted his head. “Did Talden say what kind of ‘monster things’? What sounds precisely?”

“No, Master Witcher sir. I didn’t wanna know. Plugged my ears and kicked his shin for scarin’ me.”

Jaskier snorted. "A well landed blow.”

“It’s as I said.” Yoven picked up the thread. “I didn’ want my boy botherin’ you with this because there’s no ‘this’ to be bothered with. Laren and Sage moved here not a year ago. Real secretive girls. Kept to themselves and expected the rest of us to do the same. Old Roger—one of the elders, y’see. I’m set to take his place in a few years—tried to welcome them, but found both to be a prickly pair. Always goin’ off on their own. Not sayin’ where they went or when they’d return. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sage did have a little tryst going, sneakin’ away if her sis didn’t approve. They’re both young enough for such foolishness. But then comes Talden makin’ wild claims about hearin’ monsters during the night, only after the lass was revealed to be missing, mind. He was after attention, Master Witcher. Nothin’ more.”

But Lin shook his head. “Talden wouldn’t lie.” He withered under his father’s look. “He wouldn’t lie about that. He knows how monsters scare me. I, um... apologized after. For kickin’ him.”

Geralt stood. “And Talden didn’t change his story after your apology?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Anyone look for the woman? Tracks? Speak to the folk in the town over? Surely they’d notice if one of their young men had gone missing around the same time.”

Yoven sucked the last of the marrow from his bird and shrugged. “We’re carpenters, not trackers. If we were I might have better luck findin’ meat for us both. As for the town,” Yoven stuck out a finger and proceeded to swing it in an arc. “Which one? We’ve got any number of small towns in these parts, some more earning of the name than others. But it would take days to travel and talk to ‘em all. No one does that for a woman not wantin’ to be found.”

Geralt cursed.

All of little help then. Which was he to believe, the logic of flighty women and trickster boys, or the witcher's experience that told him sometimes folk really did disappear from their beds? For any other witcher the answer was easy. One look at Yoven's clothes and Lin’s greedy bites told the story of poverty. Even if Geralt returned victorious with a beast’s head in his hands, the chances of receiving any substantial reward were slim. Perhaps enough for one meal, maybe two, but was that worth the trouble it would take to receive them?

Of course, there were benefits to being an abnormal witcher. He needn’t decide things on his own, for one.

“Well?” Geralt said. Jaskier blinked stupidly up at him.

“Huh?”

“Should we look into it?”

“...You’re asking me?”

Yes. He was. Geralt felt the burn on his hand and the bruises in his chest. Day-old words flit across his mind like birds. “I just want your opinion.”

The smile was instantaneous. Blinding too. Jaskier went so far as to slap his knee, bursting into joyous laughter when Geralt rolled his eyes. He had his fun for a moment, then grew somber. A single nod and Geralt was already moving to collect his things.

“Yes. We should at least look into it. I’d never forgive myself if we left some poor maiden in peril. Plus, think of what a story it will make! A tale of intrigue and mystery, clandestine meetings and sibling love. That’s grown quite popular, you know.”

“Then pack up your things, Bard. It will be night soon.”

“Poet, Geralt. Poet.” But Jaskier dutifully bent to collect his papers, pressing each carefully between the pages of his notebook or rolling them up with string. Geralt made sure that none had escaped his notice, then took up Roach’s reins. She stamped a few times, impatient to be off.

Yoven was staring, mouth agape so that the rot on his back teeth showed. “You’re coming?”

“We’re coming,” Geralt confirmed and started off, now three sets of footsteps following behind him.

He only listened for the one.

[fromsolowithlove]

Like a Sucker Punch - Complete

WARNING: REAL PERSON FANFICTION w/ Adam Driver & Daisy Ridley (Daiver)

WARNING TAGS:  NSFW, INFIDELITY, CONSENSUAL INFIDELITY, EMOTIONAL INFIDELITY

Summary: Daisy gets in her head and tries to ignore unresolved feelings for Adam throughout the filming of the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy and the events that surround it. Each chapter inspired by a song from the lovely Sigrid.

Words: 11.2K

Rating: Very much E. NSFW. Unless you have a very understanding boss. Or are self-employed.

Ultimately decided to post the complete fic here on Tumblr as well, cause why the hell not? This little fic baby got its start here first anyways before moving onto AO3.

Again, this isn’t for you if you can’t stand the shipping of Daiver. In no way does this reflect my deep dark conspiracy theories. It’s just my work of FICTION. A fun outlet. An angsty rom-com, if you will, starring two people with fantastic natural chemistry.

Now that I’ve lost all my followers 😈, READ THE ENTIRE FIC BELOW👇🏽

Chapter 1 - Strangers

“How about a twenty, folks?” JJ called for a break after deciding something wasn’t quite right about the scene they were filming. Rey and Kylo’s kiss had to carry the weight of three movies worth of waiting. Everyone involved knew its scale. It couldn’t be half-assed.

“Let’s make it a tight twenty,” Adam clarified.

Daisy sat up first, letting her chest fall over her legs. She inhaled a deep breath as she felt the fatigue of the past week settle into her bones.

Adam reached for her hand and pulled her up to a standing position.

“I wish JJ would give us a little more in terms of what he wants,” he muttered.

Daisy pulled her mouth into a tight smile and replied, “Well you know what he said. He wants us to decide how the moment should go. Says we know best about how our characters would have felt finally getting to this point.”

“And yet he’s obviously not happy with whatever we’re giving him.” Adam’s voice rose, but he relaxed his shoulders and tried to shake it off. “Sorry Dais, you know I’m not frustrated with you.” He offered her a small smile in repentance, his mouth barely angling up, but eyes filled with warmth.

Daisy playfully slapped his chest with her open hand. “Uh-huh. SURE.” She turned to walk away, smiling to herself as she heard him let out a low chuckle.

She walked off to the side, picked up her water bottle and raised it to her lips. She let it absently fill her up as she stared at Adam across the way. She couldn’t believe the warmth that was developing in her stomach again. Her cheeks followed closely behind as the familiar flush returned. She wanted to slap herself.

Leading up to this point, Daisy had thought herself finally over him. Had she and Adam shared intimate moments during their prior years filming together? Of course. Skellig Michael was an especially treasured moment. After all, there had been such a small group of cast and crew present. It had made it easy to pretend this wasn’t some crazy heavy-budget movie that was resting on her shoulders. “Don’t go through the crew like wildfire!” Carrie had warned. And she hadn’t. Adam wasn’t the crew. He was her co-star. And did she know in her logical mind about the infamous co-star syndrome? Of course, she did. She quickly reminded herself of a time back at Tring Park. She had started feeling a deep fondness and attraction to her costar back in Romeo and Juliet. But just as her lines and blocking points had faded from memory with time, so had her attraction.

This thing with Adam, however, had not. And it angered her. Confused her. Made her unsure of whether she could trust herself. Made her question if she had it in her to continue a career as an actress. Would she fall for every costar she ever had? Jeez, wouldn’t that be embarrassing? No one would want to hire a walking lawsuit waiting to happen. A little voice deep inside had always told her that she was a fraud. That she didn't deserve to be in the presence of the great actors that she called friends and coworkers.

“You know… I’ve got this friend who’s working on casting ‘Into the Woods’. I could throw your name her way. I see you as the perfect Milky White.”

Suddenly, Daisy was snapped back to reality by a teasing voice to her right. She raised her eyebrows and side-eyed the man who had been occupying her thoughts.

“What?”

“You know. Because you just finished that water bottle in one swig and cows really love water,” Adam began to explain.

“I thought that was camels?”

“Nope. Cows.” He paused for a brief moment before adding in, “Yeah, definitely cows.”

“You’re an odd one, bestie,” she teased.

“And yet, you’re still here.”

As if I had a choice. Trust me, I’ve been trying to put up my distance, she thought.

Before she had a chance to respond with another snarky response, JJ called an end to their break.

Another deep breath.

“Shall we resume the most frustrating scene ever, then?” she asked Adam.

He shuffled his feet and gazed out to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. “Very true. I honestly didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“Ehhh, it’s all me. You’re perfect as always, Adam.” She blushed and ran off, chiding herself for acting like a stupid school girl.

Despite her embarrassment, the break must have helped. Only a few takes later, Daisy found herself in the most comfortable staring contest with Adam. It was a moment that she wished she could have frozen forever.

Except that she shouldn’t have been thinking of Adam. She should have been thinking of Ben.

At the realization that she was letting her personal feelings bleed into her acting, she wrinkled her nose in frustration. “DAMN IT," she shouted. "I’m so sorry everyone! This next one is it, I swear.”

Adam reached over and placed his hand over hers. He gave her a small smile and she quietly cursed her heart. Its increasing pace threatened to give her secret away. “It’s okay," he said. "I feel it too. We’re almost there.”

Both of them were right, and JJ declared the last take as “THE ONE”. The room erupted with whooping and hollering. Everyone began circulating with hugs, thank-yous, and high fives. Daisy second-guessed going over to Adam, but knew it would be even more telling to avoid him.

When she reached him, she did her best to give a small hug. Adam, however, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in tighter.

“Well, it’s been great,” she started. “Thank you so much. It’s truly been an honor to work with you, Adam.” Her eyes started to well, knowing things between them would never be the same again. Hell, they hadn’t been this whole time.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry.” Adam’s words were barely louder than a whisper.

“For what?”

“You know. For everything. For making things weird between us. I, I never should have -"

“Never should have what?” she challenged. Should have let me fall in love with you? Treated me like I was yours? Let me believe we could ever be more than this great act of pretend? Those last thoughts rattled at the gate of her mouth, but remained hers to keep.

He glanced down, unable to handle her gaze that begged him for words he couldn’t say out loud.

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about Adam. It’s been nothing but the best professional experience.”

He winced, and for a moment, Daisy almost felt guilty. But the anger and pain returned swiftly. She felt all too happy to have made him feel what she imagined to be only a small fraction of her own torment.

“To our amazing leads!” someone toasted a few feet over. “I’ve worked on a lot of movies, and it’s rare we get two incredible actors like you both. You made me believe I was watching a true relationship unfold, not just two really well-acted characters. To Daisy and Adam! To making us believe in the unreal.”

Everyone cheered in agreement around them and Daisy felt her heart rise up to her throat.

Exactly Dais. The unreal.

Suddenly, it was all too much to handle and Daisy could no longer stand to be around anyone. She gave them all a quick glance, muttered thanks and ran off. Once she returned to her dressing room, she turned her speakers back on. She started laughing through runny tears at the irony of Sigrid’s lyrics that filled the space.

When the curtain drops

Our touch is just a touch

Not like in the movies

Our story’s after the end

Like strangers

Perfect pretenders

We’re falling head over heels

For something that ain’t real

It could never be us, eh

Just you and I

Chapter 2 - Mine Right Now

Two Years Earlier

“Amazing work, both of you! Now go do something fun. Relaxing. Happy. Today’s scene was so emotionally taxing. I couldn’t bear to be responsible for any dark spiraling that follows today.”

“Oh, it's really alright. I take full responsibility for my own dark spiraling, Rian,” Adam joked.

“Well true as that may be, I am serious. You've both earned a night of not thinking about work. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Rian gave them both a quick hug before leaving them to finish gathering their things.

Daisy cleared her throat before she could back out. “So, what do you say, Driver? How about a little drinky poo?” She wiggled her eyebrows at her co-star suggestively before bursting into laughter.

“Sure. As long as you promise not to judge me for ordering a cocktail.”

Praying that her face wasn’t showing her utter shock, she continued to push her luck. “You’re kidding! You never go out! With the crew. With me. Mysterious Adam Driver slums it with Daisy Ridley? What would the missus think?!”

“Dais…” She watched as he ran his hands through his hair, certain that she had crossed a line.

“Sorry. So sorry. Uncalled for.”

“I just don't like to talk about Joa-, my wife a lot.”

Of course, he didn't. Not with coworkers at least. She was kidding herself to think they were anything more than that. Trying to salvage the situation, she asked, “Too late to throw in my white flag?”

He stared at her longer than he ever had outside of filming. “Not at all. But let's head out before it gets too late. I've got an early training session tomorrow.”

Relieved that she hadn't completely blown it, she felt her heartbeat pick back up. This was really about to happen. She was going to be alone with Adam and, by orders from the boss man himself - prohibited from talking about work. “Right, of course. I'll meet you outside in five?”

He gave her a small nod before turning to leave her to her things.

Her bag was already packed, but she used the next five minutes to compose herself. Tonight would be uncharted territory. Her relationship with Adam had grown into a fond friendship over the last two years. And so had her attraction to him. She rationalized it to herself as the intimacy of a truly trusting professional relationship. After all, they had to trust each other with abandon to pull off the demands of stunts and emotional scene work. Still, somewhere deep down she knew that for her, this was more than just trusting a coworker or friend. On the other hand, she could happily say that she wasn't the only one guilty of flirting now and again.

When she met him outside, he led her to his car. She was tired beyond her wits and grateful to have him drive.

“Where to?” He asked. “The Bridge Bar?”

“No. That's where the crew always goes.”

“Don't wanna be seen with the big bad villain, huh?”

“Yes. I mean, no!” Words escaped her as she tried to explain herself. “All I mean is that...I agree with Rian. Today was a lot. And I'd rather not have to socialize with anyone at the moment.”

“Oh. I can drive you back to the hotel, then. I just thought...since you had asked...that -”

“I'm trying to say I just want to be alone with you!” she blurted.

“Oh.” Her frustration built at Adam's sudden lack of articulation and her blatant confession.

“God. That sounded creepy as hell. Please, can we forget I ever opened my mouth? Just take me to get a drink somewhere, Adam. Anywhere but the Bridge Bar. Please.”

His eyes met hers for only a moment before he drove off with a quick nod.

The drive couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. Yet somehow, it was both the longest and shortest stretch of time. Adam, apparently still shell shocked by his pushy costar, hadn't said anything to her. Well, except to point out a few key places of local history. Fear brewed in her stomach as she resigned herself to the fact that he would probably call his agent after this. He would make his agent promise that he'd never have to work with someone as unprofessional as her again.

The silence was good for one thing, though. She figured her career and their relationship, working or otherwise, were both soon to be over. So she used the time to check him out free of shame. She focused first on his hands. The way his fingers tapped like a pianist against the steering wheel at every stop. It made her wonder how they would feel tapping against her skin. His legs were still too large for the space, despite his seat being pulled back to the furthest setting. In fact, if she were to straddle him right now, she'd likely slide right down his thighs. It'd bring her right where she wanted to be, pressed up against his hardness. She pictured the intimacy of that position, how his face would be easily within her reach. How she could run her hands into his hair and bite down into his full lips. She'd be able to watch him lift an eyebrow at her, just like he was doing now.

Oh shit, like he was doing now. He had definitely caught her fantasizing about him.

He looked thoroughly amused. “Everything alright?”

“Course.” She refused to accept defeat and wrinkled her nose in defense. “Now stop staring at me like... THAT and let's go!”

An hour later, she was on her third pint and Adam was still nursing his first cocktail. She looked from his face to his glass and back.

“You make me feel like an alchy!”

He let a low chuckle. “I told you, I've got training early tomorrow. If I go any heavier than this, I'm going to regret it. Just trying to be responsible.”

“How about this right now? Coming out with me. Is it part of your plan to be responsible?” Oh...so aggressively-honest, drunk Daisy was here to play.

A small shake of his head. “ Honestly? Still haven't decided.”

“Is that why you never hang out with me?”

“No. You've just never invited me before.”

“That's not true!”

“In groups, yes... But you know me. I don't do…people. Large groups, anyways,” Adam shrugged.

“Does that mean if I had asked you and it was only us, you would've said yes?”

He chuckled nervously. “Well, I'm here tonight, aren't I?”

She poked him in the shoulder and elicited a small OWW. “I'm honestly quite mad now. That's critical intel you've been keeping from me. We could've been besties by now!” she whined.

“Besties, huh?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“Ok. Then we’re besties. Anything you want.”

Before she could catch it, the small suggestion escaped in a rasp she didn’t know she had. “Anything?”

He gulped and met her eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just her giving in to years of repressed wants. She slowly got up from the table, still holding his gaze. She turned and started toward the back of the bar. The jury was still out on whether it was to leave the burn of his stare or to initiate something incredibly risky.

There wasn’t enough time to consider her motives when she felt her body go on high alert. The darkness of the hallway intensified all her other senses. She knew it was him even before his hand slid across her back to grip her waist. It was the way he walked so gently to avoid disturbing a space. The way he took slow calculated steps in consideration of everyone smaller than him.

Instead of turning her toward him, he closed their gap and brought his mouth down against her ear. She braced herself for the warmth of his lips but shivered as he spoke. “I’m a simple guy, Daisy. I don’t do games. I told you that you can have anything you want. And right now, I want to kiss you. Is that what you want?”

She turned around and tilted her head back to accommodate for how much bigger he was than her. The urge to wrap her hands around his neck was almost magnetic, but she fought it. It was possible that she might not survive the electricity of feeling his skin under her fingers. His hands slid down to hold her by her hips, apparently just as stubborn as she was to avoid making the first move. Hurried breaths reached her ears but she didn’t know which of them it was coming from.

She felt him studying her face and instinctively bit down on her lower lip. He seemed to acknowledge this movement as an agreement. Before she could brace herself, he said “Fuck it” and crashed against her mouth.

As soon as he felt her melt into the kiss, there was nothing tender about his attack. Her fingers laced into his hair, urging his tongue to press harder against hers. Adam lifted her up and slammed her back against the wall. At this angle, there was no doubt that he wanted this as badly as she did. She rolled her hips against his and the groan that escaped his mouth filled every hollow of her body.

It was more than she could have ever imagined. Tongues fought for dominance as they battled to memorize every curve and point of each other’s mouth. But it wasn’t enough. Now that she knew this need wasn’t one-sided, she was greedy and was going to take what she wanted.

“Bathroom,” she muttered against his lips. He understood immediately and walked them into the first door. Her bottom still sat against his forearms and legs wrapped around his waist. Once they entered, the lock of the door signaled more danger. The heat at her core grew.

She whimpered as he set her down, lamenting the loss of his body weight against hers. Her annoyance didn’t last long, though, as he flattened his palm between her legs.

“Let me make you feel good.”

“Already there,” she huffed out.

“Trust me, Dais.” He smothered her with another cardiac arrest-inducing kiss. “This is only the surface of how good you and I can feel together.”

With that, he invaded her leggings as his middle finger ran up and down her wetness.

“Oh god. Adam, I-I. Please don’t stop.”

He continued his slow teasing as she watched him swallow. “I told you. Anything you want. But not even the apocalypse could stop me from stroking you right now.”

She laughed at him. “Only you could make me feel this turned on and ready to burst with laughter at the same time.”

“Only actively trying at one of those right now,” he grunted. “But happy to help.”

Her smile quickly faded as her chin dropped and a moan broke free.

His finger ran its way up to her clit before sliding back down to push into her entrance.

He absorbed her moan with his mouth and flicked his tongue against hers. She imagined him repeating the motion where his finger was now working. She clenched but soon released. As close as she was to the edge, she wasn’t willing to let him off this easily.

She rubbed her hand against the hardness threatening to break the fly of his pants. He closed his eyes and let out a small whimper. She slowly pulled back, reaching to bring her leggings down to her knees. She turned to bend over against the sink.

“Please, I need to feel you inside me.”

She watched as Adam moved toward her slowly, each second that she waited for him feeling like torture. His hand found her entrance again, now sliding in two fingers. He pumped into her slower this time, leaning over her smaller frame.

“You’ve got to be crazy if you think I’m gonna fuck you here in this bathroom. I’ve thought about this for too long to end it with a quickie. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

She worked her hips against his hand for a bit longer before accepting defeat. Immediately, part of her worried that he was using this as an excuse to break off whatever this was. But another part considered what could happen within the walls of a hotel room.

The drive back felt like punishment. The only thing that stopped her from worrying was the fact that she felt the buzz of his need for her in the air. Every glance he threw her way was full of hunger. She thanked all her lucky stars that he had only had one drink. Having to walk back to the hotel would’ve taken even longer and would’ve surely put a stop to this.

Once they got to the hotel, they navigated the lobby and hallway with caution. They both knew to keep their distance. Without discussion, she led him to her room, making out with him as soon as his tall frame was through the threshold.

Hands on his belt, she inched backward toward her bed. Suddenly, she felt Adam pull back.

His hands ran through his hair, a sure tell of his discomfort.

“We shouldn't be doing this. I've been so good at trying to keep things professional between us. From the very first table read, I saw you and knew I had to be careful. It helped to remind myself that this was your first big film. But this second film has been different. So much more comfortable. Like we’ve known each other forever. I find myself constantly wanting to be around you. Telling myself that you’ve got no reason outside of work to spend time with me is a daily routine. But then you invited me out and I got high on the thought that someone like you might want me, too. But I let it get too far. This was a mistake. I should go.”

She couldn’t believe the audacity he had to tell her those things. Her face flushed, no longer from being turned on, but instead from anger.

“Well fuck you, Adam. You're a FUCKING COWARD!”

He matched the disgust in her voice. “I'm fucking married, Daisy.”

“Oh, I'm well aware. Every day that I pretend it's only my character that's pulled toward you? I remind myself you're married. On the days we don't work together and I sit wishing you were there with me? I remind myself you're married. It might as well be tattooed on my bloody tongue considering how many times I have to tell myself. So don't pretend you're doing me a favor by telling me something that does absolutely nothing to stop me from wanting you !”

She panted with exasperation.

“It should.”

“Well, it doesn't. I’m not asking for forever, Adam. I’m just asking you to be mine right now. I know how this plays out. I always have. And spoiler alert, in no version of our story does it end with you and I walking hand in hand through a hardware store, picking out wallpaper for our future child's room. It does, however, always end with me in England and you going back to HER,” she spat out. “So either hand me that bottle of tequila so I can forget this ever happened or be a man and finish what you fucking started. ”

The hunger was back in his eyes as they dared each other to blink first.

“I'm going to hell for this,” he said through gritted teeth, taking a step toward her.

“I'll see you there,” she smirked.

Clothes flew off in a race as they stumbled onto the bed. She laid back and gasped when she saw how big he was.

Adam worked to cover her entire body with kisses that she was convinced would leave marks. “I have to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” he asked absently, lightly grazing her nipple with his teeth.

She struggled to focus, her desire battling with any coherent thoughts.

“I have a, a condition” she breathed out between moans.

“Ok,” he acknowledged, moving on to treat her second nipple to the same attention.

“It-it makes it painful for me to take anything...anyone...too...OH MY GOD. Too deep.” He blew against her nipple as she tried to finish. “And... I think ...you would get very deep.”

A smirk stretched across his face. “Then you let me know if it’s too much.” His fingers found her folds again, dripping with her need to feel him. “How should I take you?”

“Any way you want,” she breathed out. “I’ll let you know if I can’t handle it.”

Adam began to look around and she realized what he was looking for.

“Oh. And I, uh, have an IUD because of the condition. It’s actually easier for me to take you if you don’t wear a condom.”

He growled, then grabbed his length in his hand and began rubbing himself against her opening. She could feel her need coating him. She lifted her hips and he accepted her offer with a slow thrust into her center. He filled her like no one had before, except maybe a toy her sister had gifted her as a gag gift.

“Daisy…” he moaned, his solid biceps holding himself up to keep from penetrating her too deeply.

He stayed there just like that for a while, wrapped by her and taking short breaths. Knowing that he was probably nervous to hurt her sent a pang to her heart.

“I. You. You feel so good. You can give me more,” she pleaded. “Not deeper, just, it feels so good when you slide in me.”

Still balancing his weight over her body, he began to fuck into her faster. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve rubbed my cock wishing it were you around me,” he said.

She squeezed in response. He responded by pulling out and sliding back in agonizingly slow.

Her patience had left her from the moment he touched her in the bar hallway. She began to move her hips in a figure-eight motion, urging him to leave his mark in every part of her. He took her hint and picked up his tempo, being happily rewarded with her repetitive moaning of his name.

Adam stared at her, his gaze unwavering. He had a unique way of making her feel nothing and everything all at once. It was a feeling she could get used to, even feel possessive over. And with that thought, she cursed herself for confusing this for something more. She zoned back into reality and pushed against his shoulder while using her hips to flip him over. He groaned in delight at the position change and she ground into his hardness. Anxious to rid the moment of any sentiment, she began bouncing up and down along his length. He ran his hand up her thigh and over her hip. He continued to move inward until his thumb found her clit, palm still resting flat against her stomach. God, the size of this man was enough to make her come.

Feeling her pick up speed, he urged her on. “Come for me, Daisy. Let yourself go on this hard cock. You love how hard I am for you, don’t you?” He continued rubbing soft circles into her clit. Matched with his words, it was enough for her to cry out his name.

She unraveled onto his chest just as she felt him grunt and fill her. Waves of satisfaction continued to pass as they laid together. He cradled her against him as they waited for their breaths to slow.

He slowly lifted her off of him and turned her to face him. He kissed her softly and lay his head back against the pillow. His eyes seemed to search hers for answers on how to handle this transition back into reality. Not having a clue, she chose the easy way out and turned her back to him to lay on her side. Adam took it as an invitation for another level of intimacy. Her whole body tensed and released as she felt him lay tiny kisses behind her ear. He worked downwards, finally settling his chin into the crook of her neck. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.

She sighed, knowing what she needed to do. “3, 2, 1. Okay. Here goes. I’m about to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“No, you just finished doing the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life like...two minutes ago.”

“Wow. What a terribly awful innuendo that was.”

“But not untrue?” he teased.

“I’m serious. Adam, as much as it pains me to say this. I think you should go. This was truly...unbelievable. Like, really, really, good. But like I said, I don't expect anything else from this. From you. But if you stay the night...I just might get confused.”

“No.”

“No? Not really up for debate. Go.” She used all her strength to push the giant out of her bed.

He stood but didn’t make any movement to get ready. “I won’t.”

She threw on her sternest face and blinked slowly. “I’m saying you have to.”

Undeterred by her insistence, he stroked her cheek with his thumb and settled it against her lips. “Shh, you’re mine right now.”

That was enough to make her give up her fight and pull his face down to hers. They resumed their earlier position as he turned her onto her side. His body spooned hers protectively and he planted a gentle kiss against her shoulder. It seemed to be his new favorite spot. Her stomach dropped and filled with fear and guilt. She closed her eyes and hoped that sleep would come soon - knowing it was too late to avoid the crash and burn.

Chapter 3 - Don’t Feel Like Crying

Daisy’s alarm went off on her phone as she dragged the starched hotel pillow over her head.

“Shut up, you!”

She fumbled to find the source of her disturbance and squeezed until the ringing stopped. It was still dark out and she didn’t know who she had pissed off to be called in at such a god-awful hour.

She was being dramatic.

In actuality, she knew she hadn’t angered anyone. Strange hours were a well-known consequence of her chosen profession. But she also knew her internal body clock wasn't wired for this.

Over the past month, Daisy hadn’t spent more than three nights in a single bed. As she glanced in the mirror, she could see it was beginning to take a toll on her. She adored the world of professional acting - but, the press and promos? Not so much. I’ll be looking 40 before I even turn 30, she thought, reaching for her eye cream.

She moved like a zombie through her hotel room, choosing vegan snacks and a tea tumbler in place of brains. Today was going to be another long stretch, but in a few more days, it would all be over.

Over. What a strange concept that was. She allowed herself to think back to the very first press tour for The Force Awakens. It was all so new and exciting back then. It had been nerve-wracking of course, but there was also something so special about that time. Her heart twinged as she remembered that year with fondness. In spite of the whirlwind of interviews, red carpets, and photoshoots, she had formed new bonds. It was a time of getting to know her castmates, crew members, hair and makeup artists.

And him, her ugly conscience reminded her.

Right. Him.

He had slightly more experience than her when it came to the press, but that didn’t make him hate it any less. Like her, he had never done anything on so large a scale. The pressure to be someone that both kids and adults could relate to was a different kind of terrifying. Naturally, they had latched onto one another. Her delightful inexperience with the industry offset his social unease and aloof tendencies. They would find ways to make each other laugh after answering the same question for the tenth time that day. Late nights were spent walking through foreign cities in disguises. Forced together by a job, they had become close friends.

And then there was the filming of The Last Jedi. Friends soon grew into something more. There was a closeness between them, the kind one would find between childhood mates. A sense of protection and duty to the other. Yet, too fused with desire to call it platonic. There was no proper label for what they were. Not when there was a stifling awareness of their complex situation. After that first night together, they had spent a few more weeks in a bubble of their own. It wasn’t all smiles, but it was all theirs.

Still, she wasn’t wrong when she had told him, “In no version of our story does it end with you and I…”

They had both seen the ending from the start. He had tried to pull away before it even began. She had tried to protect her heart by keeping it fun. In the end, none of that did anything to lessen the pain.

“Daisy,” he whispered over the phone. She could tell he had been drinking. The sun was beginning to wake London which meant it was the middle of the night in New York.

“Joanne’s pregnant,” he forced out.

Any other time, she would have made a smartass comment about his voice cracking. But now, no words rose.

She heard him take a few more breaths as if he was going to say more. When she continued to sit there in silence, he began again.

“I know we were supposed to meet up but –“

It was too much. Daisy hung up the call and threw her phone onto the mattress, watching it bounce onto the floor. Her body shook violently as tears spilled out. A buzz against the hardwood signaled another incoming call. She didn’t need to look to see who it was.

“FUCKING HELL!” she screamed into the empty apartment. Unintelligible cries came out in waves, sounding more hoarse and strained as they went on.

Minutes, then hours passed until she finally went numb.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you alright?” Somehow, Daisy had made it from her hotel room into the elevator, whose doors now opened to the lobby. She wondered how long she had been stuck here in her memories.

“Oh, yes. I’m so sorry to hold you up.”

She left the elevator and threw on a smile. This is your dream, Daisy. Remember? The wound is where the light enters. The wound is where the light enters.

The day had been a blur of photoshoots, interviews, and trials for tomorrow’s premiere look. In theory, she should’ve been very tired by now. Yet, she lay on top of her covers nursing nervous energy. What did she have to be nervous about?

Besides everyone hating the movie that you’re at the center of? she thought.

It seemed her old friend, anxiety, was right on schedule.

She considered heading to the gym. Maybe she could work off the negative energy. But this was Los Angeles, not London. She was sure to be mobbed, disguise or not. Her phone vibrated on the side table and she reluctantly stole a glance.

Joanne will be with me tomorrow at the premiere. Looking forward to seeing you. - A

The nausea and shortness of breath that followed confirmed a fear. She was, in fact, nervous about more than just the reception of the film.

---

“Come, everyone! I need more selfies to remember you all by!”

It was a fact that no one could ever deny Joonas his selfies. There were kind people in the world, good people, even - and then there was Joonas. Daisy paused mid-conversation with John to squeeze in for the photo. Adam turned around from his discussion as well and offered her a small smile. Her stomach felt like it was filling with helium until she shook her head and body into submission. She responded with a small “hello” before turning her gaze to Joonas’ phone.

Joonas studied the photo with pleasure and brought his friends in for a quick hug. He asked them what they had been up to since they last saw one another. Their answers went unheard when his manager came to steal him away. John's agent soon followed and he checked in with Daisy with his eyes. "I'll see you in a bit, Peanut?" She feigned contentment and gave a small nod.

The unease washed over her again when Daisy was finally alone with Adam.

He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful, Dais.”

“That’s very kind, thank you. You look quite handsome as well.”

Pleasantries continued and she hardly recognized the words she was hearing. She and Adam despised small talk. This wasn't them. But then again, "them" was a long-forgotten memory.

At the realization, Daisy sighed and dropped her guard. Her eyes darkened. “Why did you text me, Adam?”

“Oh. I wasn't sure if you had received it.”

“Why,” she repeated, losing her patience.

“I don’t know. I thought you should know. That you might...want to know?” He was starting to gesture his hands wildly and she knew she had caught him off guard. “I...after the way we left off at the end of filming...I thought you might want to...prepare yourself? But that was presumptuous of me, I’m sorry. You’re clearly okay. Very okay. ”

When she didn’t respond, Adam scratched the back of his neck. “So uh, I got a chance to see bits of interviews you’ve done. You didn’t have to say all those nice things, you know. Especially after everything that happened.”

“Why not? There’s no point in lying. Also, it’s strange,” she paused. “Cause you see, whenever I’m in an interview and someone asks me something, and I go oh! There was that one time that Adam and I - And at first I would think, God, you can’t share that, Dais! You’ll look like a lovesick puppy. All the headlines will read, Daisy Ridley, a Fool for Her Co-star? But then I decided that I didn't care. That as long as I had all these memories, really fun and dear ones - it meant that it was real.”

“Of course it was real.”

She led him into a smaller hallway. This conversation was never part of the plan, but she knew that any news of it could hurt both her and Adam in a way that would be unsalvageable.

“How can you be so sure? You’re the one who walked away.”

“That’s not fair. You never gave me a chance to figure it out.”

“Bloody hell, Adam. There was nothing to figure out. When you called me to tell me you were going to be a father, you’d already made your choice. You only called because, in some sick, twisted way, you were hoping for my permission. You needed me to tell you it was okay.”

“No, I needed you to know how complicated it was.”

She took a deep breath and turned to face the wall. “The wound is where the light enters. The wound is where the light enters,” she whispered.

"What was that?"

She turned back, ignoring him and taking in his contorted expression. She straightened her spine and began. “I promised myself I was past this. So yes. It WAS complicated. But now - it’s not. There has to be something there for things to be complicated.”

“It’s still complicated for me,” he bit out.

“Please...just stop. Look, you were right. Just like always, you’re right. Between seeing you here and being sent everywhere to perform a dog and pony show, I’m not okay. Not even close. But being out here doing all this right now? The promotion and press - it's somehow the only thing helping me keep it together. As long as I’m busy, I don’t feel like crying."

He continued to stare at her but didn't venture a response. It seemed he no longer wished to argue, just listen.

She went on. "Don’t get me wrong. I understand how stupid I sound, whining about all of it. I understand the immense luck I’ve had that I get to do this for a living. You taught me that. But...I think I just need to be home for a bit. Need to lock myself up for a while. Sure, I’ll keep grinding it out and praying that someone sees me beyond this...circus. Get employed and all. But I just need a break.”

His eyes hadn’t left hers, so she broke the contact and spoke at her hands which she'd been wringing unknowingly.

“So please, let me go out there and do the old song and dance. Hug my friends, say goodbye to the role. Then I’ll go home to London and we'll never have to see each other again.”

“You can’t know that," his voice emerged, shaken by the finality of her statement.

She smiled gently and raised her eyes once more. “But I do. Everyone does. You and I no longer run in the same circles. You are...a force of nature, Adam. Like the ocean. You're reckless. Dangerous. But so damn beautiful to watch. Leaving a mark on everything you touch simply by being yourself. Me though, I'm just a rock that got swept up in your tide. Inevitably and forever changed by you, but unable to leave any impressions in return.”

She felt the heat forming behind her eyes and turned to leave before small droplets betrayed her. He grabbed for her hand but she pulled away in time. "Don't go," he whispered.

She turned with a final glance. "Thank you for everything, Adam. I don't regret a thing. But you don't get to decide things for me anymore."

Chapter 4 - Home to You

The sea air assaulted all her senses and she closed her eyes to let it wash over her. For the first time in months, she felt like she could breathe without struggle. Sure, the air was humid and rain was guaranteed to be waiting in the wings. But, it was freeing to be outside with absolutely no agenda.

She laughed.

That wasn't entirely true. She did have an agenda. But it was one all her own. This visit was all about leaving the bubble that her life has become, even if just for a few moments. It was about moving on. About liking herself again.

She had planned this trip a couple of months ago. She would have forgotten about it had her sisters not reminded her.

“Hush your beak, Dais,” Kika said. “You’re being absolutely ridiculous.”

“Am I?"

“Completely. You're not going to die a miserable, lonely, spinster.”

“I didn't say miserable and lonely!” She glared at her flesh and blood.

“Both of you. That's enough,” Poppy chimed in. “But Daisy, I do agree. Just because it sucks right now doesn't mean you're out of luck for the rest of your life. You made the right choice.”

“Breaking off an engagement. I'm the quintessential dumb millennial,” Daisy groaned.

“No, dumb would've been ignoring your true feelings. Your energy deserves to exist unbound. So do you.”

“But I don't feeeeeel unbound. I feel like some sort of gross hairball just stuck there waiting to be coughed out whenever the cat deems ready.”

Kika snorted and Poppy soon followed. Both her sisters unraveled into fits of giggles. After throwing a pillow at Kika's head, Daisy joined in.

The night had gone much like this. Tears, giggles, refill wine glasses. Repeat.

Daisy caught her breath from the laugh attack and sighed. “So what do I do now? Shut everyone out and vanish to a secluded place to find myself? ‘Eat Pray Love’ this out?”

“That's not a terrible idea,” said Poppy.

“I was only kidding. Mine isn't exactly a life you just walk out on without heavy speculation. Not even Joaquin Phoenix quit acting successfully.”

“Always the drama queen, Dais,” Kika muttered with a roll of her eyes. “But maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a vacation. Just a small one. Go. Grab your laptop. Let's find you someplace nice.”

Where to go? Where to go? she thought to herself. Her sisters chimed in with suggestions but she insisted on making the choice herself.

In a fog of restlessness, hurt, and nostalgia, she clicked away to her heart’s content. Thirty minutes later, she shut the lid. “Done,” she smiled, feeling victorious.

After reading the confirmation email the next morning, she considered canceling it. Choosing to travel there was a bad idea. Her finger hovered over the button as she thought about it more. There was a possibility that this could be the closure she needed to begin the next chapter of her life.

“Good morning!” a man called out. Daisy snapped out of her daydream and greeted the man she assumed was her driver.

“We're heading to Dingle, correct?”

An inhale. Then an exhale. It's too late to back out now, she told herself. “Yes. Thank you so much,” she answered with a smile.

---

A week and a half had passed since she had arrived in Ireland. She sat with her morning tea and sipped it, taking in how at peace she felt. She felt like the old Daisy, again. Or maybe a new one. It was hard to tell. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so present in a moment.

Her stay hadn’t been all magical. The prior week was a different picture in all respects. Like torrential rains, Daisy was never at balance. One second, she felt euphoria from being in one of her favorite places. The next, only bittersweet flashbacks of memories to a time spent with someone who wasn't hers.

Phone in hand, she stared at the photo of the cliffside she had snapped on her drive the day before. It was nondescript enough - and she wasn't in it. But he would know where it was.

She only had a few days left before going home and she had been toying with the idea of reaching out to him for closure. During a sob-filled emergency phone session, her therapist had assured her it wasn’t necessary. But Daisy wanted to. Was determined to. Where better than from here, the place they had first fallen into this mess? She wanted to rewrite the narrative and make new memories in this place. She wanted to return home without burden.

Saw this view and couldn't help thinking of you. She deleted the words and tried again. While it was true, she had to establish boundaries. She didn't want him to think she was opening up the door to anything unhealthy. This was about making peace with the past and trying to relearn a friendship with him.

Recognize this? she typed. “That seems harmless enough,” she told herself.

“1, 2, 3, SEND!” Her finger froze. She got up and walked onto the balcony. She hoped some fresh air would give her the nerve. She repeated the countdown again. “You’ve got this, Dais!”

She couldn’t do it. She jumped up and down, shaking her limbs to pump herself up.

“OH SHIT,” she exclaimed as her phone slipped from her fingers. She caught it with a pincer grasp and made a mental note to thank her trainer for her quick reflexes. She kissed her phone in relief.

Then she saw it.

Her clumsiness had done it for her. She had sent the text.

“Well. That’s that, then.” Daisy tucked her phone back into her pocket knowing there was nothing she could do now.

After dinner, she drew herself a bath and poured a glass of wine. Her phone buzzed. She had forgotten to turn off the ringer.

“AGH. Who’s bothering me?” She reached to turn it off but stopped when she saw the notification. Adam had responded. Throughout the course of the day, she had forgotten about her text to him. Or her subconscious was working overtime to protect her if he didn’t text back.

How could I forget? I embarrassed myself soon after with shitty poetry recitation.

Though alone, she blushed. She had taken the photo because the view was breathtaking and so uniquely Dingle. She hadn’t sent it with the intention of reliving that afternoon. But now she couldn’t think of anything but. And the fact that Adam had brought it up sent a pulse straight to her core.

She closed her eyes and slid her hand downward. What started out that day years ago as an innocent request evolved at high speed.

They sat in the rental car staring out at Dunquin Harbor. He had just returned from Cannes to promote Paterson.

“What was filming that like? Quite different than this, I gather?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah. Different type of film. Very little dialogue -”

“Wait, so actually very similar!”

Adam chuckled. “Paterson was very much a listener and a man of few words. Verbally, at least. His poetry is where the audience learns who he is.”

“Right! Tell me more about poetry!”

He rolled his lips inward. “Uh, what about it? I didn’t really know much going in, but meeting Ron Padgett, the poet who wrote the original poetry in the film was great. And Jim Jarmusch actually studied it in college. So yeah, definitely new for me.”

“So you spent some time studying some of this Ron guy’s work before you went into filming?”

“Among others. But, yes. It was helpful.”

“Can I hear some of it?”

“Yeah...let’s not,” he shied away.

She pulled out her phone and typed in “Ron Padgett poems” as he tried to change the subject. He called attention back to the landscape in front of them. She clicked through on a link and extended her phone to him.

“Here. Read it to me.”

He pulled a face.

“Please? It’s like a table read. But just for me.” She smiled and his mouth mirrored hers.

He squeezed her forearm affectionately before agreeing. “Only a little.”

“I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” she smirked, feeling quite pleased with herself.

“How to Be Perfect. By Ron Padgett."

“Get some sleep.” His thumb began stroking her forearm.

“Don't give advice.” He grazed his fingertips up her arm to draw circles around her shoulder.

“Take care of your teeth." A small kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“And gums.” Another to the opposite corner.

“Don't be afraid of anything,” his mouth met her temple.

“Beyond your control.”

“Don't be afraid.” A gentle stroke of her hair.

“For instance,”

“That the building,” he traced the line of her clavicle.

“Will collapse.” His fingers teased the sensitive skin of her neck.

“As you sleep.” A kiss to the shell of her ear.

“Or that someone - ” A quick bite of her lobe.

“You love,” he kissed her mouth tenderly.

“Will suddenly drop dead.” A small smile pulled at his mouth.

He took his hand and ran it down her body, stopping where her legs met.

“Eat an orange every morning.” He lifted her dress.

“Be friendly.” He teased her now with his index and middle finger in a V, rubbing soft strokes against the outer edge of her desire.

“It will help make you happy.” He brushed his hand across her clit and her breath caught in her throat.

“Raise your pulse rate.” Another brush.

“To 120 beats per minute.” Then pressure.

“For 20 straight minutes.” He rubbed up and down slowly.

“Four or five times a week - ” She raised her hips to grind against him faster. He laughed and removed his hand.

“Doing anything - ” She whined.

“You enjoy.” He returned his hand.

“Hope,” a finger pushed into her.

“for everything.” A deeper exploration of her.

“Expect nothing.” He withdrew himself.

He dropped the phone and took her face in his hands. He took her mouth like a man drinking his last sip of water before heading out into the scorching desert. His hand slid back down her torso, reading her need for release.

She put her phone down and let her own fingers roam downwards. She sighed as she softly teased herself, trying to mimic the light touches he had used. Ok, so closure may be harder than anticipated , she thought. Resigning to try again tomorrow, she put the phone down to focus on her pleasure. A reply could wait until then.

---

When she gathered the courage to respond to him the next day, she was filled with relief. Their exchange was easy and amicable. The familiarity comforted her like a childhood blanket.

She continued to update him about her trip. He laughed at the right moments and chided her the way any good friend would.

I don’t want to leave 😢, she typed to him.

Where are you headed next?

Home. I fly into Heathrow tomorrow. I’m not ready to be a proper adult again.

Ehh, I don’t think there’s such a thing. We’re all just faking it.

Thanks, friend. Any suggestions for my last night here in good ol Dingle?

A huge bacon cheeseburger.

You suck.

She laughed at his teasing. This was good. A healthy good. She wasn't even upset that she had to pack the mess that had accumulated over her stay.

---

Daisy walked off the plane and blinked in succession. There was Adam, attempting to look inconspicuous in a hoodie and sneakers.

“Oh. Hey, Adam. Are you...stalking me?”

“Kind of. I asked Kika for your flight information.”

Her phone started ringing. “Oh. This is awkward, but I've got a driver waiting to pick me up. It’s really nice to see you? But I have to go.”

He laughed nervously. “I...was kind of hoping you would let me go with you. I've got no other way of getting back.”

“Uh. Sure. Why not?”

---

An hour later, she thanked the driver and headed up to her apartment. Adam trailed behind with her bags. She unlocked the door to her apartment and gestured for him to enter.

“So, what brings you to London?” she began.

“I’m actually in France for the next month filming for a Ridley Scott movie.”

"Heh." An awkward laugh. “I knew that. I don’t know why I asked. I just didn’t wanna sound like a stalker. Then again, you showed up waiting outside my plane so I guess we’re both creepers now.”

He smiled. She melted.

“So...I’m not gonna lie...when I got your text - ”

“You know what?” she interrupted. “Hold that thought. This is kind of rude of me to cut you off. You’re a guest in my home and all. But I really need to do something first. And it’s going to be very awkward but just bear with me through it. Okay? Please?”

“I’m the one who intruded on your day so please, go ahead.”

She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes. Be strong, Dais, she reminded herself.

“When I was in Ireland, I wrote you a letter.”

“Oh.”

“It’s going to be a lot, but I don’t know that I’ll have the balls to read this again. And right now, for some godforsaken reason, I feel like I can do it.”

“You don’t have to if you don't want to.”

“No, I’m going to.”

“Okay. Should I...turn around?” he suggested.

“No no. Just go ahead and sit down.”

Adam looked down, shifting his gaze from one edge of the chair to the other. He was already seated but was too polite to note that. “I will sit.”

Daisy walked over to her handbag and pulled out a paper folded into quarters. She hoped he didn’t notice how worn it looked. Proof that she had fumbled with it more times than necessary. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. She offered him a silent thanks for that.

“Actually, I think I’ll turn around,” she muttered.

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Adam said.

Her pulse was racing. “Here goes."

"Dear Adam,

I’d be lying if I said I’m not heartbroken right now. I know the last time we spoke, I told you I was past it, but we both know that was just me trying to put some distance between us. I’m gutted even thinking about the way you asked me to stay. It makes me want to cry all over again (which I’ve been doing a lot of over here).

It’s been REALLY hard to make all my feelings go away, which is the reason I’m writing you this letter. I’m desperate to do something, anything, to get proper closure and move on.

Saying goodbye to you feels like saying goodbye to a part of myself. That’s silly, though. What’s that saying? You can’t lose something that was never yours? Trying to let you go feels like trying to quit an addiction. Which I guess makes Dingle my rehab center (a really lovely one though).

Looking back at everything with 2020 vision (haha, get it? 2020?) - I was fucked from the start. Meeting you was completely life-altering in a way baby Dais could have never expected. You were so REAL in a blur of superficiality. Latching onto you felt like a way of holding onto reality. A tether to the tangible when everything and everyone else wanted to turn me into someone I wasn't ready to be.

And I think you felt that too, in a way. Which is how we fell so easily into friendship. I truly do think that what we had started off innocently, and I’m grateful you were there for it all.

But I’m also SO angry with you. I fell in love with you. And you let me. And for that - I want to scream at everyone and everything. IT'S SHIT. I know it’s not fair to place all the blame on you. But I was in my early 20s and the less experienced of us. I misplaced our mutual understanding onto something more. But as someone with a wife, you should’ve fought harder to push me away. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you insult me until I hated you? Why did you say nice things to me in private and let me play make-believe?

My feelings for you were so obvious that anyone could have seen them from a mile away. I suspect most did. I was so hopeful that if I was patient and attentive, you might drop everything for me with a grand gesture. But eventually, I learned that that’s not who you are. I know you’ve struggled with many relationships in the past, both romantic and otherwise. Frankly, I think part of you finds romantic feelings uncomfortable. I don’t say it to be cruel, but I simply care for you and think maybe someone needs to say it. I don’t like that I tried to change you - it wasn’t my place. It isn’t anyone’s.

But onto the positive. Cause that’s what all this is supposed to be about. Typical Dais, unable to stay on task.

Loving you, as painful as it was, also taught me so much about myself. Professionally, being around you made me a better performer. I was so set on being a worthy scene partner. Your instincts always pushed me to find authenticity in everything. Your humbled way of approaching the business is still unlike anyone else’s I've met. I’ll always try to maintain these things as I go forward.

As a...romantic partner? You made me feel seen. As I’ve tried to move on with others, I always felt I’ve had to hide parts of me. Yes, our situation...fuck, let’s call it what it was. Our affair - was based on hiding. But only because of its nature. Behind closed doors, you accepted me in my entirety. The goofiness, the grotesque parts, the darker ideations. I never had to hide these parts with you. So in a way, loving you, then losing you, taught me that it shouldn’t have to feel controlled with the right person. I shouldn’t have to be a budget version of myself to be loved.

If these are truly the last words I say to you (even if not in actuality. Cause I’m a melt and may not even send this). Just a few thoughts. I am so proud of you. The awards and Ben Solo campaign are proof that the world finally sees what I’ve always known. You are a once in a lifetime type of human. I know you hate it - the recognition, but you deserve it. And so much more. I truly hope you’re happy. I know I’m trying to be.

All my love, Daisy”

When she mustered up the strength to turn around, she didn’t know if she was seeing straight. Through her watery eyes, it looked like Adam was crying, too.

“Daisy,” was all he said. He got up and walked toward her, taking her into his arms. Silent tears fell between them, darkening their clothing.

“I can’t lie. When you first texted me, I was shocked. I didn’t think I’d see your name in my phone for...Well, I didn’t know that I’d see it again.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Can I tell you something? It's actually why I came to see you.” He asked.

“Sure.” Her head was still pressed against his chest.

“I don’t expect you to say anything in response, but...Joanne and I separated. My PR will be announcing it in the next couple of months now that award season is over.”

“Oh,” was all that she could say.

“Yeah.”

“I called off the engagement. To Tom. He understood that my heart was never fully in it.”

“He did?”

“Alright, maybe not right away. But yes. He's all moved out. I think we might be able to be friends again, eventually.”

Adam looked around at the apartment for the first time. “I honestly didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, just little old me again.”

The energy in the apartment shifted and Adam tilted her chin up. He kissed her gently at first as if to test the waters. When she opened her mouth to take more of him in, his attack became more fierce. She matched his kisses, though the tears hadn’t stopped. It was a deadly cocktail of heartache, longing, and love.

She couldn’t get enough of him. The ache for him, both his heart and his growing hardness returned. It was like riding a bike. The solace of revealing every last feeling to him increased her desire. She no longer feared the ache of having him. Only the absence of his weight on her.

He carried her into her bedroom and laid her down on her stomach.

She felt him shimmy her pants down her ass. He laid soft kisses on each cheek before sliding his tongue up between them. Her whole body trembled as he explored every forbidden part of her.

“OH MY GOD,” she cried out.

Her encouragement was all he needed. He adjusted her knees so he could access her more easily. A small rub of her clit. A lapping of her juices. Then back to licking up into her from front to back. She had never had anyone taste her puckering hole before. She thought she might come right there. She reached back to pull at his hair and covered him with her release.

He flipped her onto her back and kissed her. She could taste herself on his lips. She had claimed him. Or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever it was, she needed more of this feeling.

She reached out and grabbed his erection, guiding it into herself. It had been so long since she had felt him. She forgot how deep he could feel. She squeezed him in. Further. Then further. His hair fell on his face and she reached up to push it back.

She lifted herself onto her elbows and kissed him up and down his neck. This made him go crazy and he took her with even more force. She felt split in two. He grabbed her breasts as he held his rapid pace. He returned the favor and nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered into her ear.

“ADAM. I’M COMING,” she announced.

She wrapped her legs around his back and squeezed him in one last time. “DAISY. FUUUCK.” He collapsed onto her, their sweat and tears now indistinguishable.

A moment later, she came back to her senses. “Goddamnit,” Daisy said, staring at the ceiling. “That was not supposed to happen.”

Adam rolled over. “Why does it matter? We’re both single now. We can be together.”

“We can’t,” she insisted. “We can't just start over when we, THIS, started from a place of lies and hiding.”

“Who the hell cares, Dais? Whose business is it but ours?”

“Even you know it's not that easy.”

He growled. “I know that none of that changes how I feel about you. People-pleasing is a game for those that lack understanding of their core selves.”

“Ugh. You sound so pretentious!!”

“Well, I'm sorry if I'm a little confused. We're both single and now we can't be together?? Was I only appealing to you when I was married? Help me understand this shit because I sure as hell can't.”

She got off the bed and began throwing his clothes at him. “The fact you would even suggest that is infuriating. You need to go. I've said my piece. That was all this was about. There's no reset button to any of this.”

Fully dressed, he stopped at her bedroom door. He looked ready to punch the wall. At the last moment, he opened his fist. It was almost as if he realized he had done enough damage for the day. Instead, his heavy hand slammed against the door frame.

He continued on and reached for the front doorknob. He looked back at her and she shuddered. She had seen him angry and frustrated, but had never been the one in his sights.

With a slam of the door, he left.

She began crying. So much for closure, she thought. Daisy searched for her phone and debated calling her mum or sisters. But then, a sudden cold sweat came on. She would have to admit what had happened. She dropped the phone. She wasn't ready for that conversation yet.

Sometime later, a knock at her door startled her from her stupor. She panicked. Security knew better than to let anyone up without her prior approval.

She heard a throat clear and then a thud. Much like a stray limb hitting the hard surface. “OW.”

The voice was unmistakable. She opened the door.

She looked at him and stared blankly. Her eyes seemed to ask, What are you doing here?

He extended a dark chocolate bar toward her.

“Hi. I'm Adam.”

“What?” She stared at him like tiny giraffes were dancing on his shoulders.

He shushed her and started again. “Hi, I'm Adam. It's great to meet you. At the risk of looking like an ass...can I take you out? I know we just met, but I have a good feeling about this.”

Finally understanding him, she smiled.