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eddiexmunsonlover · 4 months ago

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One Step Away From You (Chapter 13)

BSF!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!GF!Reader

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Chapter Summary: You and Eddie finally give in to your carnal desires. WC: 4k Warnings: MDNI 18+ Fluff and Smut, Smut and Fluff. Unprotected piv, grinding, marking, creampie. First time I've written smut in a long time, hope it's not terrible! Series taglist: @eddie-is-a-god @siriusmaraudeers @amandahobblepot @littlexdeaths

Friday, February 28th, 1986

A smoky haze hangs in Eddie’s room long after the cherry on your last shared joint died out. It’s your typical Friday night together after Hellfire, watching a movie between breaks to taste one another's lips. With the movie over, you’ve moved from the loveseat to Eddie’s bed, laying at opposite ends with guitars in lap, your leg atop his. Fingers seamlessly matching each other’s rhythm, soft smiles thrown with red, half-lidded eyes.

If you hadn’t been inseparable before, the two of you were practically attached at the hip over the last 2 weeks since that night at Lover’s Lake, and you swear it’s the happiest you’ve been in your life. All the time spent together, every time you feel his touch or his lips on yours, you can’t describe the feeling as anything else but high, floating in the clouds. Your friends are just as happy to see you finally together, unsure of how much more of the games they could bear witness to.

You play the last shared chord of the song, the weed making the two of you all smirks and giggles as you spare a glance to each other.

“I love playing with you, babe.” Eddie begins, eyes following as you lean to take a sip of your drink from the bedside table. “We’re just… so in sync”

Your hand reaches for his, squeezing it in agreement before stealing a quick kiss from his lips.

“What do you want to play next?” You ask, settling back into your spot at the end of the bed.

Eddie readjusts his slumped position, resting his back fully against the wall.

“You know, you still haven’t played me any of your songs since you’ve been back, Miss singer-songwriter.”

“Yeah…” you draw out as shyness creeps in, tinting your cheeks in blush while you avoid his gaze, fingers toying with the tuner on your strings.

“Sooooo” his foot nudges your leg resting on top of it. “Why don’t you play me something, pretty please?”

Turning your gaze back, you’re met with his pretty doe eyes. With a deep sigh, you give in.

“Okay, okay. But you have to promise not to judge, I never said I was good.”

You mimic his earlier movements, setting your posture straight before adjusting your strings.

“Oh, please. I already know you’re gonna blow me away.”

You can’t help but to cut your eyes at him playfully, an unwavering boyish smile etched on his face.

You mull over the handful of songs you’ve written over the last few years, some you’re more confident in than others. Only one song sticks out the most, your most recent, your most vulnerable.

“This is um, a song I’ve been writing over the last couple months.”

He watches you in anticipation, arms crossed over the guitar in his lap. With one last look at him and his excitement from finally getting to hear your work, you bring your eyes down to the guitar in your lap. Taking a deep breath, you let yourself step into the uncomfortable vulnerability.

You let your eyelids fall closed, tongue darting out to wet your lips before your fingers begin strumming the baseline, head softly bobbing along. Humming the missing main guitar line you’ve written with it.

Part of you is grateful it doesn’t give you the time to hesitate before you start singing.

“Whenever I’m alone with you,

You make me feel like I am home again.

Whenever I’m alone with you,

You make me feel like I am whole again.”

Glimpses of memories flood your mind, from that day in 1976 when your eyes first met to the events of the last few weeks, and every emotion that comes with them.

“Whenever I’m alone with you,

You make me feel like I am young again.

Whenever I’m alone with you,

You make me feel like I am fun again.”

Despite already being shut, your eyes squeeze closed harder as you’re overcome with the emotion of it all, your love for Eddie. Raising goosebumps all along your skin.

Nights spent alone in your room since your return to Hawkins, guitar in lap as Eddie would linger in your mind. Your repressed love and the way he makes you feel materializing through the lyrics, falling from your lips with ease.

“However far away,

I will always love you.

However long I stay,

I will always love you.

Whatever words I say,

I will always love you.

I will always love you.”

The feeling is indescribable, thinking back to the moments you wrote these lyrics when you thought your love was unrequited, to singing your love song to Eddie now as his girlfriend.

You hum along to the guitar solo, teeth digging into your bottom lip to stifle the wetness surrounding your eyes.

A heaviness hangs in your chest and throat with the vulnerability, you can feel your cheeks burning. Refusing to meet it but feeling his eyes on you while you sing your literal heart out for him.

“However far away,

I will always love you.

However long I stay,

I will always love you.

Whatever words I say,

I will always love you.

I will always love you.”

With a final pluck of the last chord, the sound fades out until your ears are only met with silence. Taking a shaky deep breath, you chance opening your vision to see Eddie’s reaction.

You’re met with glossy eyes, mouth slightly agape, evidence of a single tear painted streak on his cheek.

“You-” wetting his lips, he gulps down the lump in his throat. “Did you write that for me?” he manages to ask in a hoarse whisper.

You give a small nod, chest quickly rising and falling with the anxiety and anticipation of the moment.

In a second, his guitar is off and placed on the floor before he’s crawling to you. Hand sliding to the back of your neck, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Feeling the dampness of his cheek pressed against yours.

Your lips part only for a second to remove your own guitar before raising yourself to your knees, hands splaying against the cotton material covering his back.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” he mumbles against your lips, stealing another kiss before parting from them again. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before…”

A soft smile plays on your lips, thumb stroking his cheekbone.

“You deserve it. You don’t know how special you are to me, Eds.”

His lips crash into yours again as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body flush against him. The action knocks you both off balance, pushing Eddie back and pulling you with him. Your lips never part in the fall, only becoming deeper and more passionate as you land on his pillows.

The warmth of his calloused hand meets your lower back, sliding under your shirt as your tongues eagerly greet each other. Noses brushing while your tongues engage in a dance you’ve practiced many times over the last 2 weeks. And yet, the intense feelings that come with it do not fade with each occasion your lips have met. Soft moans rising from your throats with each twirl of his tongue around yours. Your fingers finding their new favorite place, nestled in his curls as your thigh lays across his hips, the temptation to fully straddle him and grind your core against his becoming increasingly harder to fight. You’re unable to stop your hips from pressing into his side, seeking any sort of friction between your legs.

You’re hoping this is it, tonight will be the night you finally take things to the next step. Not left in sexual frustration after your attentions are redirected to another activity, just when you’re brought to the brink of pushing things further. Relieving yourself the second you return to your own bed.

Having an active sexdrive is no news to you, well versed in pleasuring yourself, more often than not to thoughts of Eddie before bed every night. But since confessing your feelings to each other and spending your free afternoons and evenings with your tongues down each other's throats, your libido has only been sent into overdrive.

You have to admit the constant unspoken denial to your urges have opened the door for thoughts of doubt to creep in. You know the way Eddie feels about you, and you’d like to believe he wants you just as much. You yourself were wary of the pacing of things with Eddie in the beginning, until you realized your relationship is not like anyone else's, nor should it follow the same path or timeline designated by others either. After spending years holding back your feelings, it only makes sense things would move a little fast after they’ve finally been put into the open and reciprocated. You’d figured Eddie would feel the same.

Now it’s been 2 weeks and with multiple passed up opportunities to take things further, you’re only left in confusion. You know he’s been with others before you in far shorter of a time. You only hope you’re overthinking it all and those concerns will be a thing of the past after tonight.

Your hope is cut short when his lips part from yours. Soft pants pouring from his plump lips.

“Do you uh- you wanna watch another movie?”

Your brows raise in disbelief at him as you attempt to catch your own breath. Your frustration boiling over, your head falls onto his chest with a groan.

“I take that as a no?” he lets out a lighthearted chuckle that fades when your head tilts back up, disappointment and uncertainty displayed in your eyes and features.

“Eddie… do you not want to have sex with me?” you ask softly, feebly fighting the hints of insecurity from weaving into your voice. His eyes slightly widen while his brows furrow.

“W-What?”

A frustrated sigh falls from your mouth, propping yourself up with a hand on his chest.

“Every time we do this, every time things get heated and start to go in that direction… you just stop, divert to something else, distract me… I-I don’t know what to think.”

“Baby. Believe me, I want to. You don’t know how hard it’s been to hold myself back, it’s been downright torturous but I… I don’t want to make you feel rushed.” He takes a deep breath to collect himself and his words. “I just think about all you’ve been through, the way others have made you feel and I don’t ever want you to feel like that again, to feel used. I just wanted it to be clear that you…us…it’s more than sex for me, and I guess I thought I needed to take things slow for that.”

“Eddie… how could I ever think that about you? That you could ever be anything like him? I understand where you’re coming from but…don’t you think we’ve already taken it slow enough? Everything? All these years?”

You take a moment to read each other's eyes, his fingertips ghosting along the skin of your arm.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You can’t help but laugh at the question.

“Eddie, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He wastes no more than a second to return his lips to yours, rolling over till you’re on your back and his waist is nestled between your thighs. They quickly wrap around him, holding his body against you as your mouths pick up where you left off, only now with no restraint.

It soon becomes strikingly clear how much Eddie had been holding himself back when his hips grind into yours, a hand slowly gliding up your leg. You can feel the hard outline of his cock through his jeans, pulling a whiny moan from your lips when it grinds against your aching clit.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt, quickly yanking it off for your hands to explore the warm bare skin on his back. His mouth leaves a slow trail kisses from your lips to along your jawline. Fingers in your hair tightening to gently pull your head back, granting him full access for his mouth to explore and attack your neck. Your moans no longer muffled by his lips, they grow louder as he sucks, sending chills down your spine and straight to your pussy, desperately gripping around nothing as your thighs tighten around his waist. An airy, but smug chuckle fills your ears.

“Did I find one of your sensitive spots, sweetheart?”

You can only whimper in acknowledgement and it only makes him harder. Gently kissing and licking the quickly bruising spot on your neck as his free hand toys with your shirt.

“Let’s take this off. I wanna see you, all of you.”

He lifts himself up just enough to help remove your tank top, biting his lip watching you fumble with the hooks on your bra. You look up at him with your gorgeous eyes, removing your bra and throwing it across the room.

His eyes nearly bulge out of his head, breath hitching at not just the sight of your breasts, but the shiny metal accessorizing them.

“Holy shit” he breathes out as his hands begin sliding up the bare skin of your hips to your waist. “When did you do this?”

“My birthday.” you answer, watching his reaction in amusement.

You lean into his touch as his hands cup your breasts, sighing in pleasure as he kneads and massages them.

“So fucking sexy…” he mutters more so to himself than you before he begins to lean in, intent on letting his tongue play with your nipples.

“Wait, Eds.” your hand presses against his chest, halting his movements. “You can’t touch them, they’re not healed yet.”

“W-Well how much longer?”

“Probably another few month-”

“MONTHS?” His head falls back with a groan as he looks up to the ceiling, as if begging god for mercy. “Why must you tease me like this?”

You giggle at his dramatics, “I think you’ll survive.”

“Hmph, barely. I guess the wait will be worth it.”

He flashes you his signature smile, leaning in to give you another deep kiss before his mouth trails south. Wet, open mouth kisses along your skin between your breasts and down your plush stomach. Biting your lip as you watch him leave small pecks on each stretch mark he sees decorating your skin, inching closer to your core, fighting your thighs from trembling in anticipation.

As his fingers dig underneath the waistband of your tights, he glances up to you as if asking for permission. With an eager nod he pulls them down, carelessly throwing them off the bed with his eyes glued to your pussy. Mouth hanging open, his hands grip the back of your thighs, pushing them back and out, making your lips spread for him.

“Fucckkkk. Your pussy’s so pretty, baby.” he mutters, laying himself down for his face to hover above your core, looking you over in admiration. A finger slowly drags from your clit down to your soaking hole. “And so fucking wet for me.”

Your face grows even more red from the exposed position, his praises, the sexual build up in your body begging for release. Needy moans bubble out of your throat when his thumb begins circling your clit.

“Eddie, please. I need you, baby. Need to feel you inside me.”

If you were in your right mind, you’d probably be embarrassed by your desperate pleas, but they only turn Eddie on more. Making him groan as his cock becomes painfully hard, throbbing from the confinement.

He leans back onto his heels, hurriedly unbuckling his belt and yanking down his jeans. Your thighs involuntarily close to provide some friction at the sight of his cock being released from his boxers. You’re mesmerized at the sight, nearly drooling as you admire his length and girth, the vein running along his shaft, the contrast of his metal rings against his pale skin as they glide up and down his length. Your thighs quickly spread back open for him as he crawls between your legs. He notices the way you’re staring at him, and though lust fills your eyes, he bites his lip in nervousness.

Eddie knows you’re not a virgin, but this is only your second time. His cock isn’t the biggest in the world, but it is bigger than average.

“I promise I’ll go slow, just tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

The gentleness of his voice, his promise, his touch as his hand holds your cheek only makes you want him more. With a nod, his lips are back on yours, slotting himself between your legs with the weight of his body lying on yours. Warm, bare skin pressed against each other, grinding his cock between your folds, collecting your slick along his shaft. Whimpering into his mouth with each nudge of his tip against your clit.

He can’t wait any longer, reaching down to guide his tip to your hole. Slowly teasing your entrance, sliding the tip of his cock in and out. Breathy moans against each other's lips.

When he feels you’re ready, he slides himself inch by inch into you. Warm, wet walls wrapping tight around him. The delicious burn of his girth stretching you out in ways you’ve never felt before, throwing your head back against the pillows as a gasping moan tumbles from your lips.

“Jesus H. Christ” a guttural moan bubbles from his throat, burying his face into your shoulder as he fully seats himself inside you.

He doesn’t dare move, letting you adjust to his size while trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly. Years of desire and tension threatening to be fully released far too soon. You feel even better than he imagined, much better.

With a deep breath, his hips begin to rock back and forth. With one hand holding himself up, the other cradles the back of your head as yours grip onto his back. Your slick coating his cock with each stroke, quickly easing the pain of his stretch to turn into pure pleasure. Your thighs wrapping around him, foreheads pressed together as you stare into each other's eyes. Mouths hanging open as moans fall free.

“Eddieee” a needy whimper when his tip brushes against your sweet spot.

“Do you need me to stop, sweetheart?” he asks breathlessly, halting his strokes.

“God no, please don’t stop” your heels press into his lower back, pushing his cock deep back into you. “You feel so good”

“Fuck, baby. So do you, gripping me so tight” He groans, pressing his lips against yours as he picks up his pace. The sounds of your wetness, skin slapping skin filling his bedroom, mixing in with your moans.

Your nails dig into his back as you’re filled with pleasure, with each stroke of his cock in and out of your pussy. His eyes roll to the back of his head, parting from your lips with a whimper.

“Fuck, I don’t know how much longer I can last. Feel too good, wanted this, wanted you for so long, baby” he rambles breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on trying not to bust so quickly when your sweet pussy keeps sucking him in, squeezing him so tight.

“I want it, Eds. I wanna make you cum.”

“Shit, sweetheart. Where do you want it?”

“Inside, fuck, I want you to cum in me.”

“Oh my god”

A hand slides underneath you, wrapping around your waist while the other remains cradling your head. He buries his face in your neck, searching for your sensitive spot. Hoping it’s enough to help you cum with him. The way your nails dig deeper in his back, the way you repeatedly call out his name with his mouth latching onto your neck tells him you’re close.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me.” he mutters against your neck, picking up the speed of his thrusts.

It sends you over the edge with a squeal of pleasure, legs shaking, your walls squeezing him tight with a death grip.

He once thought your laugh was his favorite sound in the world. After tonight, it’s dropped down to second place.

The way your pussy pulses around his cock through your orgasm finally makes him falter, groaning your name as he pushes himself as deep as he can inside you, filling you with his cum.

Your chests heave against each other, bodies relaxing with your release. Panting to catch your breaths. The mix of your juices dripping down your ass and onto his bed sheets beneath you.

After a minute passes, lust no longer clouding his mind, Eddie raises his head from your neck to look at you.

“Did I really just..”

“I’m on birth control, remember?” You chuckle as his face immediately relaxes, head falling back to your neck.

“Oh thank god” he mumbles into your skin, arms wrapping tight around you as your fingers slip into his hair, gently rubbing against his scalp.

You rest there for a few minutes collecting yourselves, evening your breaths and heart rates.

His lips find yours again with slow kisses as he pulls his soft cock from inside you. Moving to lay next to you, pulling you to lay with your back against his chest.

He offers you your drink, quenching your dry throat from the countless moans he fucked out of you. A lit cigarette soon finds its way to your fingers and lips, wordlessly passed between the two of you.

Your head rests back against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your waist, hand resting on your stomach.

As you lay in each other’s embrace in utter relaxation, all tension and worries fully released from your mind and body, a question of pure curiosity hangs in your mind.

“Eds, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.” he answers, blowing smoke from his lips.

“When did you know? That you felt more for me than just a friend?” you ask, turning your head to peer up at him. He smiles down at you before putting out the cigarette, letting his hand fall to rub up and down your arm.

“It’s uh, hard to pinpoint an exact moment.” he begins with a sigh. “Sometimes seems like I’ve had these feelings for as long as I can remember.

Maybe it was one of the first few times you snuck out of your trailer when your parents fought and came to Wayne’s, and I’d realized I was that person you wanted to go to to feel safe.

Or whenever something would happen, good or bad, you were always the first person I wanted to tell.

Or maybe it was one of the countless times I’d look at you and wish I could kiss you, hoping I’d always have you in my life.

Or when you left and I stopped hearing from you. The way my heart broke at the thought I’d never see or hear from you ever again.

Or every time I was with another girl… you were always just there in my mind, I’d see your face in theirs.

And when you came back, the way my heart both fluttered and sank to my ass at the sight of you…”

His eyes meet yours, hand moving from your arm to let his fingertips ghost along your jawline.

“I’ve realized I love you so many times, sweetheart. I just never imagined in all those moments… you were falling in love with me too.”

Emotions overwhelm you, a tear falling from your eye as your heart swells in your chest. His finger lands under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his soft lips, your body turning to fully face him, deepening the kiss.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Eds.”

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delicatebarness · 4 months ago

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but daddy i love him | chapter one

Summary: Your father begins to worry about your connection to Bucky, again under your twin's influence.

Warnings: This story contains themes of secrecy, forbidden romance, and familiar conflict. High School/Mob AU. - Also, a lot of what happens in this series will be done while the characters are underage, for example, alcohol and drug consumption.

Word Count: 1508

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A/N: I thought it was fitting that he still called her Sunshine. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

The marble floors of your family’s estate were cold against your feet as you made your way to your father’s office. The grandeur of the house, with the high ceilings and opulent decor, made it feel more like a fortress than a home, a constant heavy air of unease.

As you stood before the massive oak door, you knocked softly before stepping inside. Sat behind his large mahogany desk, the weight of your father’s presence filled the room. His sharp eyes met yours, and he motioned for you to sit.

“Morning, Daddy,” you greeted, forcing a sweet smile as you settled into the chair opposite him.

“Morning, Princess,” he replied, his voice gruff but affectionate. “I need to talk to you about some… concerns, Peter has come to me about.”

Tilting your head, you feigned innocence. “Concerns? About what, Daddy?”

“About you and James Barnes.” He leaned forward, his gaze penetrating. “He is convinced something is going on between you two.”

Letting out a light laugh, you shook your head. “Petey is always so suspicious. Bucky is like another brother to me, you know that.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He said he has been watching you two closely, says he’s seen things that make him think otherwise.”

Leaning in, you played the sweet and innocent ‘daddy’s girl’ card. Battling your lashes slightly. “Daddy, you said no boys, so there are no boys. And, I’ve always done what you asked. Bucky’s just Steve’s friend, and someone who looks out for me because Steve asked him to. That’s all.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, however, his gaze softened nonetheless. “I need to be sure, Princess. Peter’s convinced there’s more to it.”

Reaching across the desk, you placed your hand over him. “You’ve always trusted me, haven’t you? I’d never do anything to break that trust. You know how Peter is, Daddy, he just likes to stir up trouble.”

The tension eased from his shoulder as he sighed. “I know. It’s just… I worry about you. This world isn’t kind, men aren’t kind, and I want to keep you safe.”

“I know, Daddy,” you softly sighed, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “And I promise you, there’s nothing to worry about with Bucky.”

Finally relenting, he nodded. “Alright. But, be careful. If I find out otherwise…”

“You won’t,” you assured him with a bright smile. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Princess,” he said, his tone tender. “Now, go on. I don’t pay for that school just for you to be late.”

Relieved, you left his office. Your heart raced as you made your way toward the front door. The encounter had been too close for comfort.

Back at school, the usual hum of student chatter filled the air as you navigated the hallways. Classes came and went by in a blur, your mind replayed the tense conversation with your father. The warning was clear: you needed to be more careful than ever.

You and Bucky managed to find a moment alone as lunch approached. The abandoned art room was your sanctuary during school hours, a place where Peter and his suspicions couldn’t find you. The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open, and Bucky slipped in behind you, locking it with a soft click.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, lifting you as his lips met yours in a desperate kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pressed against him, the intensity of the moment erasing all thoughts of caution. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer as if the space between you was unbearable.

The kiss grew more heated as he lay you down against one of the desks, his lips trailing down your neck, making your heart race. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel him closer, the urgency between you both palpable. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk, and you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in.

Your breaths mingled, the room filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the soft rustle of clothes. You could feel his heart pounding as hard as yours, the need and desire between you both electric. His hand slid under your blouse, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

Just as you were about to lose yourself completely in the moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. You both froze, reality crashing back in. With a reluctant sigh, Bucky pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“It’s so hard to stay away from you,” Bucky whispered, his breath warm against your skin. His grip tightened around you for a moment before he let go, helping you off the desk. “Tonight is going to be difficult.”

You both straightened your clothes. The air thickened with unspoken longing and the weight of the evening’s challenges. The charity gala, organized by your father, was an annual event attended by New York’s elite. Every year since you and Bucky started, it felt like a daunting obstacle course.

Your gaze never left his as he adjusted his tie with a sigh. “I know,” you murmured, your voice laced with frustration. “But we can’t avoid it. My father’s gala is not something we can skip.”

He nodded, and you tried to steady your racing heart. “We’ll have to be extra careful,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. He reached out, brushing his thumb just under your lip, fixing your messy lipstick. “I’ll keep my distance, no slipping up tonight.”

You watched his jaw tense, his gaze flickering toward the door as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment. “At least… until we can find a moment alone.”

As you descended the sweeping staircase, the soft glow of chandeliers reflected off your gown. The delicate fabric trailed behind you like a waterfall of midnight blue silk, it whispered against the marble flooring. Voices and laughter filled the ballroom as you entered. The air was thick with the scent of roses and the symphony of polite greetings, the tinkling of glasses, and the soft music from the orchestra.

Your gaze swept around the room, searching for Bucky amidst the sea of familiar faces. Standing near the bar, you found him, flanked by a few of your father’s associates. His posture was relaxed, a composed expression and drink in hand.

“Looking stunning tonight, Sunshine,” Bucky remarked quietly as you approached, his eyes flashed with admiration before he sipped his drink, masking his emotions with practiced ease.

“Thank you,” you replied with a smirk, a rush of warmth coursing through you as he averted his gaze. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

Bucky chuckled, glancing over at Steve and Peter who were engrossed in conversation with another guest. “Trying to blend in,” he murmured, shifting on his feet as you called over the bartender. “It’s tricky when your father’s watching.”

You nodded knowingly, familial expectations loomed over moments like these. “Peter’s in his head, again,” you sighed, scanning the room discreetly as the bartender placed your drink down. “We’ll find a moment, though.” As you took a sip of your drink, you sent Bucky a wink as you began walking away, mingling with the other guests.

Later in the evening, the music from the orchestra swelled and the dance floor filled with couples, you stood alone near the edge of the room, nursing a drink. Bucky approached, his steps purposeful yet discreet.

“I spoke to your father,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I asked if I could have the honor of a dance with you.”

Your heart skipping a beat at his words. “And… what did he say?”

A small, almost mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “He agreed, but… only for one song, and he’s keeping an eye on us.”

Glancing across the room, a smile spread across your lips as you spotted your father watching from a distance. His gaze was stern and protective. “Of course he is,” you murmured, amusement and exasperation in your tone.

Bucky extended his hand towards you. “May I have our annual, one song, Sunshine?” he asked, genuine warmth filling his voice.

You nodded, placing your hand in his, a spark of electricity coursing through you from the contact. He led you onto the dance floor.

As you swayed to the music, Bucky’s hand lay firmly on your waist. Despite the watchful eyes of your father, brothers, and the guests, the connect between you two was undeniable.

“You’re breathtaking,” You whispered, your grip tightening on his shoulders. “It’s touture having to pretend we’re just friends.”

“I know,” he whispered back, his lips close to your ear. “One day we won’t need to.” he promised softly.

The dance ended too soon, and as you pulled away, your father’s gaze burned into you. Bucky gave your hand a final, lingering squeeze before letting go. With that, you returned to the swirl of social interactions. Your heart raced knowing that despite the obstacles, your bond was unbreakable.

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zialltops · 7 months ago

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

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You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”

a/n: howdy folks! I’m pulling my head out of my ass and getting back into writing. These last few weeks have been leveling put for me and I’ve been feeling a lot better compared to how my life HAS been. These two were the perfect break even though this took my two whole months for only a few thousand words. I’ll be back sooner than last time with an update, but you’ll see me before then for another wip. Much love, hayhay 🤍

Chapter 8: What Was I Thinkin?

Three hours ago, if you asked Joel how the night would come to its end, he’d tell you he’d probably be in the cabin, laying in his cold bed, staring up at his ceiling fan, alone—with his right hand working his dick to the tune of the farmer’s daughter. In fact, three hours ago, he’d told Tommy something similar.

“Joel, man—I promise It looks fine.”

He adjusts the buttons on his shirt another time, stuck between leaving one undone and letting the opening linger down his chest. “Fine ain’t gonna cover it, Tom—ain’t no way in hell I’m walkin’ up to her lookin jus’ fine.” Tommy huffs from behind him and starts to go through the closet beside Joel while he stares at himself in the body length mirror behind the door.

“What about this one?” Tommy beams, He’s holding up a black shirt on a hanger, slight dust on the shoulders from it’s lack of use. He’s half surprised the moths haven’t gotten to it yet. Its buttons are made of iridescent pearls that snap in place, labyrinthian embroidery adorning the breast pockets. “Ain’t worn it since before the accident.” He lifts one of the sleeves in his hands, lingering on the fitted cuff.

His mind takes him back to half forgotten nights under neon lights, long neck bottles and ropers calluses on his rodeo-worn hands. To money wasted on buckle bunnies and broncs, to years taken off his life under the sharp hooves of a one ton animal—years he’ll never get back. Years he wishes he’d never taken for granted.

He was a more confident man then, not cocky—but proud of his abilities in the arena, proud enough to walk tall, speak surly. He was a master in his sport because he trained religiously, fully immersed in the idea that this was his only shot at making it. He still believes that, even now. He wishes you could have met him then, when he was that Joel—Rodeo buckles and spurs, cowboy hats and stadium lights. When he was a white straw hat and chaps, an unsullied grin with a thirst for adrenaline and belt buckles.

He holds the black cotton between his well worked fingers and longs to be that man again—if only for one night. Would you like him? A cowboy in his prime with worked muscles, before his beer belly and the softness in his chest really set in? “This one’s good,” he huffs, brushing the dust off the shoulders before unbuttoning it enough to remove it from the hanger. “Lemme help you.” His brother offers. Joel’s not naive, he knows the fear is visible atop the surface of his flushed skin, in the deepened frown lines and the shake in his hands.

Tommy is a lot of things, but once in a while he softens around his selfish edges and he bends a little, reaching out for the weeping limbs of his brother, struggling with all his might to keep himself standing up straight in the storm, a resilient and irrepressible figure to look up to. Tommy sees the way the longing shines through the perforations in his irises, the way his shoulders slump with oppressive burden—and he takes pity on the older man. “I’ll wash it real quick while you shower. It’ll be good as new, fresh outta the dryer by the time you're done.” He looks up at Joel, who’s still transfixed in the forgotten token of his former youth, of the man who he used to be. Items he’d left in storage down in Austin that Hank had so graciously shipped to Jackson.

He almost wishes he’d never gotten it all back, it was easier then—to hide from who he was when he wasn’t reminded of his past every single day, but once in a while—that reckless, spotlight chasing cowboy grasps for the surface. And tonight? Tonight is your birthday, the town dance, where you’re going to be, probably looking like something Joel doesn’t have a shot in hell with. It’s your damn birthday and he wants to ask you to dance but he’s not sure the fee quick dance lessons he got will suffice. What if he stumbles? Steps on your pretty little feet? Drops you?

“Joel—“ there's a snap in front of his face and he pulls himself out of the chaos inside of his mind. “Man, you are loosin’ it. I’ve never seen you this wound up over some girl—“ his eyes snap up to his brothers and he huffs lowly. “She ain’t just—some girl. She’s Hank and Lou’s daughter, people I think of as family. She’s smart and resourceful, sometimes a little reckless but she makes me feel like…like I’m alive for once.” Tommy sets the black shirt down and sit on the side of Joel's bed. Beside him, Joel's weight sinks onto the mattress. “M’gettin’ old, Tom. I don’t have a lot of good years left in me and I don’t know if I’ll ever have a opportunity like this again.”

Tommy takes a glance over at the distant look in his brothers eyes. “Opportunity?” Joel's eyes flick over and he sighs. He wishes Tommy had a little bit of what he had built inside of him, the innate goal of settling down, finding where he belongs and who he belongs with.

“At bein’ happy. Good memories for my restless nights.” If he fucked this up and missed his chance, he’s not sure he’ll have it in him again, if it will ever feel like this with anyone else. He thinks he’s done, thinks you’re it. He thinks he could give you forever if you’d let him.

“S’that why you’re so messed up in the head? What, do you think she’s going to shoot you down?” Tommy’s voice picks up in pitch, offense used like a weapon to get his point across and Joel appreciates the gusto. “Think I’m gonna go home alone tonight. Think it’s just gonna be me and the crickets and this damn hand again, dreamin’ bout how damn sweet she is.”

Tommy’s hand reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and he retrieves a silver flask, offering it to his older brother who takes it with unsure fingers. “Just be yourself, man. Walk up to her like you belong there. Just need a little bit of confidence, don’t let her think you’re second guessing yourself. I don’t know her like you do—but I know that girl is more than willing when it comes to you.”

Joel takes a long swig of rot-gut whiskey, lets is sink into his bones and find the will to drag himself into the shower and wash away the saw dust lingering on his skin from the floor of the dance hall, ease some of the soreness in his knees and back from learning how to dance.

When he’s finished, there's a clean shirt and a flask laying on his bed. Joel finishes off the whiskey before he fastens the first button.

Liquid courage is the only thing that gets him to town.

He’s everywhere—everywhere. His hands burn on your thigh, on your hip where they dig in just a little too roughly when he pins you to the wall beside the back door. The second it closed behind you, there was a desperation clinging to the early spring air, perforating the slight chill until it shimmied beneath it and took life in the form of heat dripping across your exposed flesh. It was sticky and hot, sucking you in like a vortex straight to the center of what your world revolved around—Joel Miller and his touch that feels like fire.

He tastes like alcohol and tooth paste and part of you wonders if that’s what's changed about him, why he was so willing to let go of his reservations in-front of half of the town. He’s been drinking, drowning his insecurities enough to throw himself at you bravely.

Will he still be this Joel when you open your eyes in the morning? Will he regret it?

His teeth dig into your bottom lip and your brain goes fuzzy, stars forming behind your closed eyes. Insecurities can wait until tomorrow, you decide. His hips press forward ever so slightly and the outline of his cock can’t go unnoticed, not with the way it makes the fabric of your panties drag against your clit tantalizingly. Behind your closed eyes, the stars morph into crackles of fireworks, filling your senses with bright pleasure and desperate desire to chase those lights into the night.

You hike your legs higher, trying to drag him into the delicious delirium with you. The movement pulls a guttural groan out of the broad cowboy. “Joel—Joel,” you need his hands to leave brands on your skin where they’ve touched you, setting fire to your soul. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” Is he crumbling like you, throwing himself into this very moment right here? Is he as desperate as you are? Does it feel like a travesty and a triumph? The yearning you’ve endured, for the victory of finally knowing what he feels like when he kisses the breath from your lungs.

It’s more than you know how to articulate—more devastating than you anticipated and yet—it’s still not enough. It won't be enough until his heart beats in time with your own and you feel him wrapped up in your body

His teeth dig into your jaw and your body reacts before you tell it to, searching for the release only he can bring you.

“Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

And suddenly, in the time it takes to flip on a light switch, he’s gluttonous, insatiable and voracious—a wild predator set loose just to turn on its careful handler. The only thing that comes to mind, in comparison, is a pack of wolves frenzied to sink their teeth into the supple flesh of their prey.

In your case—Joel is the starved pack—and you? You are but an unsuspecting doe, practically sacrificing yourself to his uncontrollable famine.

Those thick digits, adorned with callouses earned from laborious work, hastily push aside the fabric of your dress in search of your covered center. He feels so fucking good when those digits push their way past the hem of your panties and he gasps against the shell of your ear. Like it feels just as good to him, letting the pads of his index and middle finger tease the seam of your lips before slipping between and dragging those rough digits over your hardened clit. It’s all the built up want, longing, needing that makes him feel so other-worldly, you’ll never experience something like this, the rush of relief to finally be his.

His fingers dip lower, searching for the source of all this slick adorning his knuckles, when his thumb drags idly over your already sensitive clit. Its like an electric shock straight to your sternum, arching you forward in search of anchorage to this reality altering interaction. There's a hint of alcohol swimming behind your fluttering eyelids, but his shuddering groan is sickeningly sobering. You want to say something, tell him how good he makes you feel, but the words bubble up in your chest and hang in your throat in the form of a silent sob, your mouth hanging open and your toes curling against your shoes.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” Where the hell has this Joel been hiding? He’s never been so vulgar, so vocal and confident in himself. His fingers tease the soft ring at your opening, smearing slick around on his fingers when he leans against your front to press his face against your heaving chest and neck. His fingers plunge in—and your body jerks against his solid form. He lets you shudder and tighten up against him while his thumb moves steadily, never coming off the peak of your nerve—locked on it with such perfected percussion that there is no jerky catch, just steady—drowning pleasure. His rough pant of breath paints your shoulder in sticky warmth and your thighs tighten around him, begging to draw him into your desperation.

“She’s just cryin’ for me, ain’t she, Honey?” His drawl sounds like sweet tea on a hot summer afternoon, like your sight set on the Austin sunset from the seat of an old saddle, driving cattle through tall grass and endless horizons.

Being touched by Joel Miller feels like coming home.

He finds a steady pace, working his fingers in and out, each drag punctuated by the ridges of his knuckles and the rough pads of his finger tips. Just faintly, you can make out the wet sound your sex makes every time he fucks his fingers into you intentionally. Its instantaneous the way heat blooms in your pelvis, knotting up in your stomach until you’re so overwhelmed, you’re trembling in his grip. “She’s so fuckin’ greedy, pretty little cunt needs to be stuffed, don’t she? G’damn, you’re quiverin’—you gonna cum f’me already?” His words are like a dirty secret, never meant to be revealed—knowing exactly what kind of storm that truth would bring. Let the rain pour down, let the thunder crack and the gusts rip the apprehension from your bones—because Joel Miller wants you and you’ve been waiting for this moment for two years.

You’ve imagined this a million times, slipped your fingers between your legs to the mere idea of this revered and dignified southern gentleman—more once you’d put a face to the elusive cowboy. No matter how deeply you lost yourself to your imagination, none of it will ever amount to the way cold brick feels against your exposed back, the way denim jeans ruffs up the insides of your smooth thighs, the way a felt Stetson bumps against your temple when his fingers curl against a spot inside of you no man has ever found, dragging the air from your lungs, robbing your vocal cords of their melody. With your eyes rolled back and your desire strung tight, you manage to string together enough sound to produce words.

“Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum! Please!”

A third, assured finger slips in right beside the other two and slam forward, sending you spiraling down that one way path towards pure ecstasy. His fingers curl again and his thumb quickens, pushing you up and up until you’re sure you’re about to melt through his finger tips, a weeping puddle at his feet. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.”

His command is your saving grace, the final twist that undoes the well wound rope holding you together. A variation of his name rips from your throat and consumes the space around you, invoking a bright euphoria that shrouds every nerve ending you possess. He doesn’t even know what he’s just subjected your body to—a life altering experience that you will never be able to recreate with another person. “S…s’the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” is the only thing your mind conjures up once you’ve come down enough to speak. He’s still holding onto you, slowly slipping his fingers out and letting you down with a satisfied chuckle.

“Wunna taste you,”

How will you handle another assault from that honed attention? How will you ever unsee that unruly tousle of curls between your thighs?

He doesn’t give you long enough to form a protest before he’s rushing you through the parking lot, a determination in his step that you’ve never seen. He’s surpassed the point of antsy when he yanks open the passenger door and finds leverage on your hips to hoist you up, then toss you down on the torn upholstery. You should say something—tell him to slow down before you pass out from the burn of his hands—but fuck you don’t want him to stop, consciousness be damned.

Instead, you watch him set his cowboy hat on the dusty dashboard, the silver trim of the band shimmering with luster in the golden street lamps. He drinks your body in visibly, relishing in every curve and inhale of breath. When his vision finds yours, they are nearly black with desire—his pupils having consumed every inch of bourbony brown. When his big hands find your thighs again, the resistance bleeds away and gives way to insurmountable, greedy hunger.

“C’mere, girl.” The hands on your thighs dig into the flesh, leaving finger shaped dimples in your sensitive skin. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.” Jesus christ.

If your friends could see you now, they’d all laugh at how easy you are, but right now—it’s just you and your cowboy—you’ll never be anything but easy for him.

His hands move with fever, hastily pushing your dress up your hips. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” That same ferocious want consumes you, possessing your hands to work on their own accord, helping Joel shimmy your panties down your thighs and over your heels.

You have enough time to register the way he stuffs the black lace into the front pocket of his wranglers before that head of his is forcing its way under your dress. He spreads your legs easily, pushes and pulls with his hands until his mouth seals over your clit, drenching your nervous system in blinding heat.

He’s good, so good at this. His tongue slides through your dripping folds with a tedious, monotonous rhythm. He’s licking for a taste, for his own glutinous thirst based on the way he groans and sighs against the softness of your lips. His eyes flick up at the same time your body starts to quiver, trying to adjust to so much honed desire narrowed in on you. “J-Joel, please don’t st-top.” Your eyes start to leave his in favor of rolling back in your head when your chest arches out, searching for a breath of sobering air, for something to hold onto so you don’t crumble apart. “Feels so good—you feel so good.”

His mouth closes over you and he sucks, pulling your clit against the smoothness of his tongue as he flicks it over and over, soothing the sensitive bud, while actively robbing you of any coherent train of thought. The only sounds that leave your lungs are sharp gasps and whines, fueled by the low groaning sound he’s muffling between your thighs. He releases you and your body reels, drawing in breath after breath to catch up with your racing heart.

“Wunna split this little pussy open on me,”

Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck—fuck.

You have long enough to gaze down at him, watching as he slides the flat of his tongue through your lips, over the sensitive bud, before your head is dipping back again.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” you heave and he pulls away completely, shocking you into a mewling, whining mess. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body bares down on nothing, /wish he would just give it up already, unbuckle that belt, push down those wranglers and fuck you like you deserve. Joel grunts while he watches, letting it rumble through his whole body. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

His whole demeanor shifts, alternating from this brazen, confident cowboy to the man suddenly lost between your thighs, sucking and slurping, licking and moaning to himself. He’s gutless, starving and desperate, he whimpers when you squeeze your thighs and cry his name, holding on tight until the flash of blue and red and the sound of a loud voice rips him from his mission.

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

Joel rips himself away from your body before you even have a chance to cover yourself. “Fuck-fuck,” he looks around sharply, eying the lone officer in a tan blazer with flashing lights fastened to its hard top. The sheriff has a light in their hand, leaning over the side of the blazer. You manage to pull your dress down and scoot back, trying to hide yourself from the light shining on the two of you.

Joel's gaze falls away from the officer, parked behind the truck, blocking it in. Instead, he looks forward, into the clearing in front of the parking lot, half lit by the street lamp. His jaw clicks and he looks set on whatever is going through that big brain of his. “Put a seat belt on.”

What?

Joel grabs his hat and slides across the bench seat quickly, slamming the door behind him. He makes it across you and throws himself in front of the steering wheel, finding the ignition quickly to turn the keys in the shaft.

The chevy roars to life at the same time that he slams the gear shifter into drive and plows over the parking block. Before you have a chance to register what's happening, the blue pickup is sliding through mud and grass, leaving tire tracks in the field as he cuts through it towards the highway.

“Joel, what in the—fuck!“ you shout, reaching up for the oh-shit handle, while the other hand reaches for the solid form beside you, grasping him by the bicep as he snorts nervously. “Just—calm down for a second, we’ll lose ‘em.”

Your heart races and your nerves radiate through your entire body. You’re a good kid, you’ve never ran from the cops before, never been in trouble for crying out loud. You did your best in school, tried to make your parents proud despite your small side of rebellion. And yet, here you are—trying your best to hang on while he cuts corners and runs stop signs, old alleyways and back roads through the thickets. The truck roars past speed limit signs, loosing rodeo flyers pinned to telephone poles when he slams the gears—orange papers fluttering in the settling dust.

He snorts, taking another random left and speeding down the street. “Ain’t gonna get arrested, honey. Just trust me.”

Trust him? How could he even ask you that, like that wasn’t what this was all along. You trusted him like you trusted the sun to set and rise again, like you trusted the birds to sing and the rivers to run—you’d trusted Joel with your family’s dream and he never let you down.

Somewhere along the way, you lose the ability to fight off your grin, Joel manages to leave flashing red and blue in a cloud of dust. He cuts through a group of trees leading into a clearing and shuts off the lights. He drives by moonlight, effectively covering his tracks and making his way onto another road, leading up the mountain towards the ranch. He pulls off another dirt road that is cut out along the side of the hill, but he isn’t in as much of a hurry as he was before. He takes a last left, bringing the truck to the edge of the hillside that overlooks the entire town of jackson—from the dance hall—to the bar—to the red and blue set of lights on the south side of town, still looking for you and your cowboy.

The world grants you a few silent moments to catch your breath, before it completely robs you of tingling in your muscles, the conscious connection between the two of you. The reality of being truly alone with him is sobering, with nothing but the trees and the wildlife to offer a distraction.

Now that the air has cooled and your heart has finished pounding in your ears, you can make out the faint hum of the stereo, the FM dial lit up by the soft glow behind it. The station is still the same as it was when you were a girl, riding in your daddy’s pickup, playing old country music like it did in the days of your youth.

Now, it rings in your ears with the nerves seeping into your bones, settling into an uncomfortable dust. Right now, of all times? Anxiety has to claw up your chest and wrap around your throat while his saliva is still drying on the inside of your thighs?

Fuck, his beard is still glistening in the green-glow of the stereo.

“You’re starin’ at me.” He says almost quietly. You expected him to tease and flirt, maybe boast, but his voice waivers halfway through and you start to pick up on his slight nerve. Under all that charm and intensity is starting to give way to a much more vulnerable Joel—a man you know all too well.

“You’re just, uh—“ you swallow thickly and try to find the courage to meet his deep brown eyes. “Your beard is…wet.” When you do find his irises, his mouth picks up in a half smirk. If he’s as scared as you are right now, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. He’s giving it everything he’s got to hide it from you.

It’s been so long and you need this. Need to be touched, appreciated, worshipped.

The look in his eyes tells you that he’s eager to kneel.

“And who’s fault is that, hmm?” That sweet, sultry accent drags you in, sliding closer on the seat until you're nearly tucked into his side, leaned back against the seat while he looms over you. He’s still nervous, you can see it floating around in his dark eyes, but his jaw clicks like he’s trying to rein something in.

Silence falls upon you once more, but unbeknownst to the cicadas and the crickets, your dancing gazes say everything you need to hear. His eyes drop to your lips and yours to his. His tongue peaks out unconsciously, wetting his bottom lip ever so slightly—like he’s tasting you there.

His mouth clicks shut and it's then that you glance up. His eyes are back on yours, suddenly so much softer with a lulled arch to his eyebrows. In the depths of his eyes you find renewed hunger, fire burning in those pools of smooth chocolate. Your body relaxes, succumbs to the form of his plains of muscles adorning his body. When you tilt your head up to him in offering, you sink so deeply into those dark pools you can nearly taste the sweetness of him like velvety candy melting against your taste buds.

“Joel—“ you choke out, deciding then that if he waits a second longer you’ll suffocate.

There's things about this life that can never be stopped, inexorable phenomenons that are unavoidable. The seasons will always change. The storms will always come, lightning will always strike. The days will always end and the sun will rise again on the next.

And Joel Miller will always, always break when you say his name like that.

He falls into you with a sharp intake of breath, crashing his mouth against yours with surprising accuracy. It’s so easy to let him take over with the perfect combination of rush and savor he puts into the way he envelops you. His mouth is soft, but persistent, wrapping around your bottom lip when he sucks it between his teeth for a soft bite that makes you want to live in this moment forever.

You nearly do because you get absolutely lost in kissing him, you don’t protest when he leans you back on the bench seat, you don’t put up any sort of fight when he spreads your thighs with his wide hips. When his hands grip your knees, you know you’re completely done for.

He pulls away from your mouth and his eyes find yours in the low green glow and there, you find everything you’ve ever longed for.

“I…I think,” Joel shifts, looking down at his hands like he’s just woken up from sleep walking straight into your heart and soul. “I think I should get you home, s’gettin late.”

Late? Your poor muddled brain cannot keep up with how quickly he fades in and out of doing anything to have you, to be terrified to touch you. How quickly he slips into a starved desire to shaking in his boots.

Not for the first time, you wish you could reach right into his brain and pull out whatever it is that makes him think you don’t want those rough hands all over your bare body. He’s already had a taste of you, already kissed you—what more could be standing in his way?

“Home? Joel, we were just getting started—“ he clears his throat and sits up, trying to slide away from you but your heels dig into his tailbone and drag him back. “Started down a road we both know only leads to nothing but trouble and regret.”

What, the, fuck?

“I’m—you think this is a bad idea?”

The uncomfortable air settles back in between you and your legs around him loosen. “Think you're going to realize really quickly this ain’t what you want and this—I’ve got…too much on the line.”

He has too much on the line? What about the ranch? Your childhood home about to be lost to the bank? What about the dance hall where he’s built a new floor to make you smile? Does it all wash away with his assumed doom?

“What are you saying? This…this was a mistake? Joel I still have your fucking spit drying on my pussy and you—you regretted it already?” The realization feels like a dull blade straight to your gut, forcing it way in and twisting you from the inside out. It burns with shame and agony and you pull yourself out from under his sturdy build.

“I didn’t mean—I regret anything, fuck knows I don’t—“ no, no. You’ve given this man so much of yourself, committed so much to be thrown around and have your feelings stomped on.

“Then what the fuck does it mean, Joel! You—you made me cum while telling me you wanted to stuff my cunt but now you think this is…” you have a realization then, that maybe—just maybe, he does actually regret it. What does he think, you’d turn around and throw him out on his ass? If he truly thinks that low of you then maybe…

“This was a big fucking mistake.” You say coldly, making up your mind as you right your bunched up dress and adjust your fixed gaze on the passenger side window.

“Take me home.” It’s not a request.

It’s not an invitation, either, Joel understands as he watches you close the front door behind you later that night, settling his made up mind.

He presses his palm to his crotch twice and comes in his pants right there in the driveway, just like he knew he was going to.

And he feels like a fucking fool.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel the last of us #joel tlou #archive of our own #cowboy!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut

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jake-g-lockley · 2 years ago

Note

Can I ask for prompts 7 &/or 4 with Poe Dameron? Love your writing! 🥰

Glimmer of Hope (Poe Dameron x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be Tagged?

Prompts: “The hand behind their nape when they are embarrassed.” and “Almost kissing but someone walks in 0_0.”

Warnings: Allusion to injury

A/N: Oh my god thank you for the ask and the sweet comment, my heart <333 I haven’t written for Poe in so long, my beautiful rebellious husband, I hope you like this, it's just pure fluffy goodness xxx

Word Count: 3.1k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

At times of chaos, a little bit of happiness seems to drive everyone away from their troubles. When there was an announcement of an engagement at the cantina on one particularly glum day, things started to take a turn for the better. There were a lot of tears, all tears of joy as the glimmer of happiness sparked a whole lot of peace in people’s minds.

You grinned at the happy couple, one a member of the red squadron and the other a tech at the operating base, who also happens to be your best friend, Kamira. They looked so elated and their happiness was clearly contagious. You congratulated the couple, kissing your best friend’s forehead and bringing her in for a hug

“Be my maid of honour,” she whispered through her tears and you nod without a second of hesitation.

It took you a while to gather yourself but you were determined to make this the best wedding ever, to make it the best glimmer of hope the resistance has ever seen.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were now trudging around a busy market place, searching for the final accessories you were adding to Kamira’s bridal headdress, a small astromech droid rolling at your heels telling you to hurry up.

“Yes, BB, I won’t be long. Go on, go bother your dad.” you said, turning to chastise the irritated droid.

It was then when you realised that the man in question was not behind you. You stopped and looked around, frowning when you couldn’t catch the unruly mop of curls or sharp stunning brown eyes

“Wher- Bebs, where’s your dad?” you knelt down to pat his round head. BB-8 made a sound that sounded something like “ Don’t care, am mad.” and you rolled your eyes at the droid.

“He can be mad all he likes, I’m not buying him new fittings until he learns how to behave himself.” a soothing masculine voice with a hint of authoritativeness cuts through the buzzing sounds of the market making you smile.

You gathered your face into a frown before turning to face him.

“You went into a whole lecture about me running off too far when you can waltz off wherever you want and whenever you want?” you poked the man’s chest as he stared you down with a smirk on his handsome face.

“You hadn’t even noticed how long I’ve been missing.” He raised his eyebrows indignantly at you and you couldn’t help the smile at creeped up onto your face.

“Oh shut up, Poe, here, hold these bags.” you shoved your things into his arms and walked away before he could catch anything else from the expression on your face.

Your friendship with the Black Leader had been a unrequired one. You had been working late one night, deep in focus when an X-Wing swooped into the base and landed slightly clumsily. You squinted into the darkness and quickly ran towards the ship when no one came out of it. You pried the foggy glass covering the cockpit open and you were shocked to find Poe Dameron semi-conscious and on the verge of death.

You had pulled him out with all of your strength, hulling the 80 kg pilot onto one of your trolley’s and pushing him to the med bay, screaming for help. You hadn’t heard from him for about two weeks when suddenly one of your favourite droids, an orange and white astromech, delivered a little message for you from Poe. You both got along amazingly and now here the pilot was, helping you search for wedding preparation things.

You watched as Poe adjusted the large bag of items on his shoulder as he bargained with a seller. You couldn’t deny that he was a beautiful man to look at. His sweet mannerisms and innocent eyes meant that he could easily get his way at times but you allowed it. The setting suns created a beautiful glow that complimented Poe’s tan skin and brown eyes, turning them into caramel orbs that sparkled like gems at a distance. Poe turned to you with a triumphant smile, indicating that he had won the bargain as the shopkeeper mumbled something and stuffed the things into another bag.

“Come on, it's getting late, we should get some rest.” Poe’s voice cuts through your thoughts and the both of you walk towards a nearby inn.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“What do you mean one room?” Poe runs a hand down his face and takes a deep breath.

“We’re all booked up unfortunately,” said the bored receptionist.

“It's alright Poe, we’ll adjust, we’ll take the room sir.” you said, hooking your arm around Poe and grabbing the key that was set out in front of him giving the receptionist a forced smile.

Whatever negatives Poe and you thought about the room had been magnified to tenfold when you unlocked the door. The floor was absolutely filthy and the room was cramped, with a bed that was too big for its space. You turned to Poe who was staring into the room with the same expression you had brewing in your head. You couldn’t help but giggle and pinch his cheek at how blatant his emotions were showing through and he snapped out of it, following you into the room.

BB-8 was camping the night in his little astromech pod on the ship Poe flew you in. That just left you and Poe to find somewhere to crash for the night before heading back to base when the suns arose. You sigh and pull out a few scarfs that you brought with you for comfort, laying it on the bed so that you could have some peace of mind when you sleep. It took you a while to realise that Poe was staring like a lost child.

“You okay?” you turned to Poe, a worried look on your face.

“Uhm, yea sure. I’ll take the floor, you can have the bed.” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“Don’t be stupid, Poe, you can sleep on the bed with me, I’m not going to throw you off the bed in my sleep.” you chuckled.

Truthfully, you were worried about his back. Ever since that accident, he had been complaining about how bad his back would hurt and nothing seemed to solve it. You didn’t want to be the cause of more of his pain, that might essentially take him away from his true love, flying. You gave him a small smile and head to the refresher to freshen up.

A few minutes later, there you were, staring face to face with Poe Dameron, casanova of the resistance. You can’t help but think of the many women and men that this man had bedded and you internally smack yourself for thinking up such vulgarity. You close your eyes and pretend to sleep, eventually lulled to unconsciousness by the soft warmth of Poe’s body heat and his soft breathing.

Poe, on the other hand, was wide awake. His plans of falling asleep in a lone bed were quenched by the bored receptionist and he was now given an opportunity like no other. He knew you were pretending to sleep, so he did too but when your breathing steadied and your eyelids relaxed, Poe laid there and stared at you. He almost never got enough time with you, just to observe you and swim in the feelings that he felt for you. Why would he want to travel to the land of dreams when all he dreamt of was before him?

Now, he pulled himself out of the urge to graze your face with his fingers, to memorise your lips with his. He tucked his hands under the pillow so that they didn’t betray him. Everynight, when he succumbed to the few hours of sleep that he had, he would dream of you. He would see your worried face, the face that you wore when you discovered him at the brink of his death. Your hair was a mess and you had an oil smear on your forehead but Poe thought you were an angel who was going to take him to a better place.

His hands itched to tuck a stray piece of hair that fell on your face as you soundly slept but he reeled himself back again. Suddenly, with a big sniff, you shifted in your sleep and one of your hands landed directly in front of Poe’s nose. He slowly took in a breath and smelled your soft soap and it was then when all of his urges took over him. Slowly, he extracted one of his hands from under the pillow and traced your hand softly, every line etched painstakingly into his brain as his fingers skimmed them, willing himself to remember every single detail.

You didn’t rouse from your deep sleep although a small smile graced your face as your pinky twitches gently. Poe sighed, slowly letting his heart leave its cavity and fill the lines on your hands. He hooked his pinky around yours gently and waited with bated breath to see whether you would be jolted awake. Your pinky stopped twitching but your breathing stayed the same and Poe continued to stare at you until his eyes betrayed him, sleep consuming him like a hungry curse.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You awoke to something warm under your face. It was so soft and smelled like clean skin with a hint of motor oil and leather, giving you a sense of comfort like no other. You nuzzled your nose into the warmth and slowly opened your eyes. All you saw was an arm extending from whatever was under your face and memories of last night flooded back to you. You didn’t move but your eyes met with the sleeping Poe, who was snoring softly, a respectful distance between the two of you, minus the hand that was softly tucked under your cheek.

The rebellious commander looked ethereal in the morning sun, his curls everywhere, his eyebrows and lips set in a neutral position, giving him an angelic resting face. You resisted the urge to close the gap and feel his soft pouty lips on yours. Your heart pounded as you took the chance you had and softly brushed his curls that were at his forehead. The second your hand came in contact with his forehead, a jolt of electricity ran up your spine, and you had to literally pull yourself together and not throw yourself over the sleeping Poe.

His eyebrows twitched and you resumed your original position, closing your eyes. He slowly woke up and his hand that was under your face gently cupped it as a soft sigh emitted from him, twisting at your insides. Your heart was pounding under your chest and you felt the bed dip slightly as Poe slid out of it and pulled his hand with him.

You only opened your eyes as you heard the door to the refresher close. You silently flung yourself out of bed and did your happy dance as all the receptors of your brain fired at once, your heart pumping adrenaline throughout your body making you feel like a mad woman. The sound of water hitting the floor stopped and you bit your lip, sliding back into bed and pretending you just had woken up when Poe opened the door again.

“We’ll leave for the base after we get some breakfast.” Poe said smiling at you and you nod with a knowing smile, a smile that could only be fueled by the sweet feeling that your commander has fallen for you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were running now, fabric billowing around you as you ran through the halls, in search of that one door. You found it, keying in the password and letting the door swoosh open before storming inside. Poe turned to look at you, adjusting the buttons to his uniform with a small frown on his face, but the second he properly took a look at you his mouth dropped into a soft smile.

“How’s it going, Commander?” you giggle, realising that he had put all his buttons wrongly, setting a small jar aside and reaching for him.

“I look ridiculous.” he mumbled and you laughed, patting his lapel down and pulling him towards his table.

“You look powerful, trust me.” you say, perching on his table and pushing his shoulders down so that he is seated at the chair.

You reached out for the jar of mousse and lifted his head up by his chin, so that he was at eye level with you. Without a single word, you started to adjust his curls, twisting each piece so that they fall beautifully. Poe was looking at you with his huge tempting eyes, and you looked past them, not wanting to be distracted. Once you were satisfied with his hair, you grabbed some powder and dabbed it lightly on his face.

“Ready for your big speech?” you murmured, smoothing down his eyebrows with your fingers and letting your hands trail over the sides of his face, examining him.

He shrugged, making you nod with a grin, knowing that Poe was more of the pep talk kinda person, preferring to steer clear from large structured speeches. You placed a hand on his chest and slowly pushed him against the chair as your eyes finally met his. They were slightly hooded and he gave you all of his attention, tuning his entire body towards you. You held eye contact, determined not to falter as you started unbuttoning his uniform. You tugged it and righted his buttons, your fingers working slowly and carefully on the intricately ordained uniform. Once you were done, you turned and picked up the mirror behind you, holding it in front of Poe.

“See you look cute” you smile from behind the mirror.

Poe’s hand came to rest atop of the mirror, slowly pushing it down to reveal your face. His eyes were glittering under the dim lights of his room and he was gazing at you with a new look on his face, one of wonder and amazement. You’d recognize the look on his face, the same face he used when he would blow up a TIE in the sky, his face ablaze in the monitor and a maddening expression that made him look like a scientist who had discovered all he wanted to know.

“Yea, beautiful.” he whispered softly as his eyes grazed your face.

He reached his hand out and cupped your cheek, calloused thumb tracing your jawline, making your eyes flutter close and heart quicken instantly.

“Poe…” you breathed, trying to keep your eyes on him.

“So beautiful…” he was getting closer now and you could see the light dusting of pink across his nose.

You held onto the mirror between the two of you like it was your lifeline fingers digging into its hard ridges as Poe’s nose brushed against yours softly. Suddenly a loud beep launched the both of you apart and Poe stood up from his place, turning just in time for the door to whoosh open again.

“Found your data pa- Why are you both looking at me like that?” Finn says, holding up Poe’s data pad.

You adjusted your expression casually at Finn’s raised eyebrow as Poe coughed and straightened his uniform.

“Knock next time, damn.” you heard Poe murmur and you purse your lips, keeping in a laugh.

“Time for the-”

“Right, rehearsal.” Poe said shortly, exiting the room and Finn shot you a look of surprise and followed him a second later, leaving you stunned with your own thoughts.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Poe watched you throughout the ceremony, unable to think of anything else as he watched the way you smiled lovingly at your best friend. Poe found himself replacing the bride and groom with himself and you, his hand coming up to fiddle with his mother’s ring on the necklace around his neck. You would make the most radiant bride, your smile itself would be the highlight of Poe’s day and to be the reason for that smile would be his greatest blessing.

He got through his speech just fine, his eyes searching for everyone except you, worrying that he would stumble along the way if he looked at you. After the ceremony, he looked around for you, his mind racing at the events of the morning and wondering how it would feel to speak to you again. You weren’t anywhere near the party, and Poe had a good idea where you would be. He ran, the resistance of the wind messing up his curls again and his boots thudding against the floor.

He stopped when he caught the sight of you, your cape billowing in the wind as you looked over the balcony at the scenery before you. You looked no short of a queen, your posture regal and your head held high. Poe was mesmerised, even more than he ever was when he had the chance to feel your lips against his moments before. He should have said something to you before he left for rehearsal, his heart now punishing him as he stared at you.

“I know you’re behind me, Poe, I could hear your boots from a mile away.” you said humorlessly without turning around, your voice soft as it carried away in the winds.

Poe approached you slowly, twisting his fingers slightly and taking his place beside you.

“Why?” Poe knew what you were asking and he quite frankly didn’t need you to say more.

“You saved my life, so it's undoubtedly yours.” He said softly but firmly and you turned to look at him with a shocked expression, your eyes wide, not expecting him to say what he just had said.

“Oh Poe,” you breathed, grabbing his hand and tugging him close, claiming his lips with yours as you cupped his face with your free hand.

His arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, sighing as his heart gave way completely. He pulled away, but one look at the way your face was flushed made him pull you back for another kiss, one that blazed something so violently inside of him that he found it hard to pull back. Eventually, he rested his forehead against yours as you held onto him, the both of you breathing in each other’s air as your hand rested against his chest, over his heart.

“I-” you tried to say but Poe softly clamped his hand over your mouth and brought your head down to his shoulder, hugging you tightly.

In that embrace you felt it, that glimmer of hope, the best one you had ever seen in your time with the resistance.

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @in-between-the-cafes @steven-grants-world @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @autismsupermusicalassassin @alexxavicry @flordelalunas @euphoricosmo @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @lia275 @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless

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asimplearchivist · 1 year ago

Text

‘ 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓽 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ the instant marc laid eyes upon you, he knew without a doubt that you were steven’s soulmate.⤏ he never stopped to consider that you might be his, too. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader | marc spector/reader word count ☾ 14.0k a/n ☽ ⤏ this isn’t an actual soulmate au, despite the summary, but after reading @astroboots’/@thirstworldproblemss’ and @softlyspector’s flawless renditions of marc, I’ve been absolutely normal about him. (lying. he’s starting to consume me, even though I am still very much a steven simp and adore jake as well. I love one mk system—they’ve become such integral comfort characters to me, it’s not even funny.) ⤏ [but seriously y’all go read Moonstruck, Tales Untold, and Red Flags, rn this instant if you haven’t, as well as all their other works! they’re such inspiring, stunning writers that I envy dearly, and you’ll be enriched by their breathtaking prose for it. Oh, and their smut is phenomenal, too! ;)]⤏ hope you guys enjoy! :) ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

The first time Steven had met you, it had been strictly by happenstance.

The first time Marc met you, officially, it was an accident.

Don’t forget the interview tomorrow, buddy.

Steven scoffed a laugh, lips curling at the edges at the mere thought. “Me? Forget about that? Who exactly do you think I am?”

Marc huffed softly, half-dozing in the headspace as he idly observed Steven’s measured movements: a chipped mug fished from the overflowing dish drain, a cursory glance at its interior in the dim lighting to make sure no residue remained after its last wash, set on the counter while the wailing kettle was tipped over to pour in steaming water. Kettle down on another burner, tin of loose leaf valerian and chamomile popped open, infuser filled and submerged; sugar and oat milk to taste after a moment of cooling blows—too damned sweet on Marc’s tongue, but Steven hummed in satisfaction and set the mug to the side while he dutifully put away the supplies in the cubicle Marc had set up in the corner of the countertop specifically to contain Steven’s frequent messes.

Just reminding you. You haven’t stopped talking about it since last week. Steven would be crushed if he missed out on his interview to get back on with the museum—HR had already cautioned him of a lengthy probation period after the circumstances of his suspension, despite having long since paid off the property damages incurred that spring, but Steven had been too thrilled to go back to take any negativity to heart. He’d seen a position open up for a tour guide online and hadn’t allowed it to leave his mind since—or his mouth, for that matter.

“Well, as long as you don’t take off for Cairo or the other side of Europe while we’re sleepin’, I don’t think I’ll have much to worry about, yeah?” Steven retorted, taking his mug with him to his desk. The empty Thai takeout container was pushed to the side in favor of his piping drink, and Steven was soon cozied up in his chair and plucking his readers from where he’d tucked them into his sweater to perch them on the end of his nose. Marc had stopped paying attention to the text hours before, convinced he’d go cross-eyed from staring blankly at too many more of the incomprehensible glyphs (because in whose right mind would an ax represent anything other than an ax?). Steven’d always had the attention span of a bloodhound—zipping back and forth across pages and books until fixating on something and following the trail to its very end. It was exhausting to Marc, but he had to admit that it had been integral to saving the world (and their own life), at least. “There is a reason I’ve been brushin’ up, you know.”

You’ll do fine. I don’t know why you’re afraid you won’t get hired—they’d be stupid not to, as much as you’ve got crammed in your head. (…Their head? Marc was still uncertain.)

“...It’s not all this I’m worried about, necessarily,” Steven responded after a beat, eyes rising to the window reflecting their shared face. Marc raised a brow at him. “Donna’s got her fingers all up in management, you know—the only reason they’re humorin’ me is ‘cause of a dare hopin’ I’ll make a fool of myself, I’m sure of it—and after everythin’…” His expression pinched, a look far too like Marc’s own for his liking. “...they thought I was bonkers.”

To be fair… Marc began wryly.

“I know, I know. Don’t change the fact that I was mentally unstable in their eyes. Worse, maybe—a maniac.” Steven’s eyes dropped back down to the dusty old tome, his tone growing despondent. “This is probably all just a courtesy to formally dismiss me, and I’ll make a proper fool of myself, then.” He paused, then sighed, dejected. “But what else can I do?”

Go somewhere that’ll actually appreciate your talents, Marc answered firmly. Donna’s a bitch. And if she keeps you from getting this job, I’ll make her regret it.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Watch me. We wouldn’t have anything else to lose at that point. Marc paused, took in Steven’s melancholic expression, and he blamed his blunt candor on his exhaustion. They don’t deserve you, you know.

“I do know, but I don’t know where else to go. We won’t be able to live off your merc money forever, so at least one of us needs to have a real job since you’re not…bounty huntin’, or whatever it was you actually did, anymore.” Steven scratched his hairline and dug his fingers into his curls to tug them while in thought. “I suppose if they don’t take me back, I’ll have to look into somethin’ else. But for now…” Steven’s jaw unhinged as a yawn pried at Marc’s weariness. The readers were set down upon the page, and Steven rubbed at his heavy eyelids. “Guess stayin’ up wonderin’ on ‘what if’s won’t help much, will it? No, don’t think so.”

Not really. Marc settled further back into his receding lucidity, basking in the serene warmth it provided—just like the soft fibers of finely knit cashmere against his skin. Good luck.

“Thanks, mate.” Steven stood, downed his tea in a long draft, and turned to head for the bathroom to freshen up—but Marc was already fading fast. “Talk to you tomorrow, Marc.”

‘Night, Steven.

Steven stayed up even later than Marc had with him. He could feel it in the pressure behind his eyes, even as the bleak morning sunlight seeped in through the windows and spilled over the rumpled covers. He squinted and groaned at the mild visual intrusion, rubbing his temples as he sat up and unbuckled the cuff binding his ankle—a habit so deeply ingrained he no longer had to look at it for his hands to perform the task. He suspected Steven didn’t even realize he’d looped it on, probably in automatic zombie mode again when he’d finally settled.

“Told you to go to bed,” he groused, grimacing and slipping off the side of the bed onto the cold wooden floor. The ring of sand remained undisturbed as he shuffled his way into the bathroom, scrubbing the crust from the corners of his eyes. “How long did you read, Steven?”

Silence. Marc flicked the light on, wincing, but was met only with his own scrunched expression. The little bastard was sleeping it off still.

“Great. Leave me to do the interview,” he muttered with fondness and exasperation in equal measure, shaking his head and reaching for his toothbrush (because of all things, they’d decided they needed separate ones). “Let me take the fall when you get all broken up about it.”

Marc’s needling produced no response from his alter, much to his increasing chagrin.

Steven remained dormant throughout Marc’s morning routine: combing his hair back, washing his face, shaving off his stubble, and dressing in several warm layers of Steven’s preferred clothes to combat the cold drizzle fogging up the windows. He ate the overnight oats Steven had stored in the fridge the evening prior, stabbing the assorted berries with his fork more aggressively the longer his headmate remained silent. Marc scrubbed the dish clean and shoved Steven’s wallet, keys, and phone into his pockets as he donned his own waterproof canvas jacket since all the windows were misted over, preemptively tugging the hood over his head as he meticulously locked the door behind him on his way out.

The sidewalk was lined with puddles as the gloomy, early London morning continued to spritz the city with a fine, chilling mist. Marc had half a mind to go about his own business since Steven wasn’t there to tag in, but until it grew closer to the appointment time at the museum there was still a chance that his alter would surface. Marc knew that Steven would be immeasurably upset about missing his chance to finally achieve the position he’d sought out for so long, despite all the shit that the staff had given him, hindered still by Marc’s situation though unbeknownst to Steven at the time…and Marc would sooner grill and eat his own foot while it was still attached to his leg than have to endure the fallout that would be sure to follow.

He was co-conscious the last time Steven got his hopes crushed on that failed date, though only lingering in the very back of their mind, and the misery Steven had felt had almost rivaled Marc’s own at the time—it was Marc’s place to deal with the unexpected development, not Steven’s (because Marc didn’t quite remember asking Tori out, either, but both of them had been exhausted), yet he’d failed in protecting him from the aftermath that time. He wouldn’t ever let it happen again if he could damn well help it.

Marc sighed, watching his breath flare into a plume of fog and dissipate just as quickly. If Steven had worn out the body, as sluggish as Marc felt, he was going to need something to perk up for the day, at least—even if Steven would later fuss about how coffee always made him jittery, as he did every other time Marc indulged in the mornings he fronted. There was a bookstore on the corner across the street from the museum that Steven had always frequented both for their stock of new and used books as well as the coffee shop inside it. He favored their vegan breakfast and lunch options, as well as their wide assortment of teas, and had spent countless hours in the lounge studying before, mingling amongst the equally sleep-deprived university students. Maybe Marc could coax him awake by going there with…sensory memory, or something. He vaguely recalled the place, but hadn’t spent a whole lot of time co-fronting there.

Since it was early enough, Marc opted to walk instead of catching the bus or hailing a taxi. Passersby on the street, huddled under their umbrellas, cast him incredulous glances as he ambled along, but the bite of the air was a boon he drew in deeply and released in slow, lingering exhalations that billowed around his face before vanishing.

The utter silence he’d encountered in the Field of Reeds had proven to Marc that, despite the relatively short time after he’d finally been forced to introduce himself to Steven and to effectively burst the bubble around the quaint little world Marc had painstakingly constructed for him while he had attempted to suppress Steven’s awareness long enough to finish Khonshu’s last job, Marc had grown accustomed to having the South Londoner drawl nattering on in his ear, even if things had been tense between them at first. Marc hadn’t parted himself from his alter since—even if they still bickered as they adjusted to one another's presence, he didn’t know if he’d be able to tolerate the painful isolation he’d once imposed upon himself ever again.

He’d already single-handedly dismantled his and Layla’s relationship with his conviction that she and Steven both were better off without him. Though they had parted on good terms—her fondness and care for him (and now Steven) as plain as day in spite of the heartache he’d caused her—the trust he’d broken by all his secrets had been too shattered to reassemble. Steven had hated to see the dust settle in such a way but had eventually agreed to finalize the divorce after a lengthy discussion with Marc and Layla. Marc had been, admittedly, too unstable to salvage the remains of their relationship since it had been built on falsehood and half-truths to start with, and he and Steven had mutually agreed that they needed to figure themselves out before attempting any other romantic connections, despite Marc being fully aware of how deeply Steven craved such closeness with someone. Layla had been as close to a significant other as Steven had ever had, and it had hurt him a lot to let her go before he’d really had her. Marc still felt guilty about it.

They still spoke with Layla at least once a week, as she was sometimes forced to go underground having resumed her line of work in the black market of stolen antiquities in Egypt, and Marc felt far more at peace knowing that he’d managed to close that chapter in his life on a somewhat good (if bittersweet) note. He still considered her one of the best (if only) friends he’d ever had. He would never discredit the relationship he’d had with her, the love they’d shared, and the immeasurable good it had done for him to be with her—he’d always love her, in a way.

Ever since then, his and Steven’s connection had greatly improved. Steven started going to therapy (partly to meet HR’s qualification for any return to employment at the museum, but mostly to get a better understanding of how to navigate their new shared lifestyle), and Marc himself had slowly started to test the waters by having a few conversations with the psychiatrist after seeing how well she treated Steven. He had never once considered in a million years that talking to a complete stranger would help in any way, and while he still hadn’t revealed much about himself personally or about his past, he did feel more at ease about the entire situation after being met with unflinching kindness, empathy, and much-needed room to breathe. It was hard, and he’d never have chosen to do it on his own, but Steven had asked him to try it for both of their sakes, and he’d agreed so long as he wasn’t forced to participate and could take it at his own pace. He did co-front during the majority of the sessions, even if he didn’t speak.

They had made many compromises since returning to London, but Marc found it surprisingly easy to cooperate with Steven—once he got better at communicating with his alter, anyway, though he still struggled on that front in general. Steven seemed perfectly content to give Marc as much time and space as he needed, provided he wasn’t doing something foolish, dangerous, or withholding vital information from him. Marc hadn’t drunk in weeks, hadn’t even had the itch to do so. The constant quiet of the flat mitigated by Steven’s general enthusiasm about everything life had to offer was a balm that soothed Marc whenever the world grew to be too much, one that he never had known he’d so direly needed. (Even if it did get lonely sometimes when Steven receded to the back of their headspace and Marc was left alone.)

Overall, several months had passed since The Cairo Incident™ (as Steven had bluntly summarized it), and his and Marc’s now conjoined lives had settled into a tentative state of balance as autumn rolled in on rainy deluges, foggy mornings, and dank evenings. Nothing would be ‘normal’ again after all that the events there had entailed, not really. The situation had never been conventional before (at least beyond Steven’s perspective, though even he hadn’t considered his life entirely ordinary despite being completely unaware of their body’s secondary lifestyle until that fateful day in the Austrian countryside)—but it certainly felt better. Marc wasn’t happy, necessarily, but…he felt content and secure. And for now, that was enough.

As Marc pulled the heavy wooden door open by its tarnished brass handle, a flood of warm air rushed out to meet him along with the chime of a bell jangling over his head, smelling strongly of biblichor and espresso and nipping at his numbed cheeks and nose. The bookstore was mostly empty at this hour, though the few early birds milling around were chattering about their oncoming day with each other, crowded around small round tables pushed against the windows on the outer walls. The lounge was decorated with ornate wooden and velvet pieces of furniture, cozy and homey in its warm jewel tones and soothing atmosphere. A series of shelves as tall as the ceiling lined the interior wall, packed full of books with a chalkboard sign hand-lettered in white, yellow, and orange script explaining that any and all community trades were welcome. A refrigerated display case brimming with freshly baked goods as well as an assortment of brunch foods had each item labeled with allergens listed capped the sales counter that carried on all the way across the rear of the storefront. An open doorway at the other end opened into a foyer containing a grand, winding staircase leading to the next floor where the bookstore was located. A sign directing incomers to an elevator intended for people with handicaps pointed around the corner beyond Marc’s sight, as well as the public restrooms and manager’s office. All manners of barista equipment lined the wall, with a tall fridge containing numerous other drink and food options.

Having only caught brief glimpses of the place before, Marc could understand why Steven was as fond of the place as he was. Not many places allowed Marc to ever truly feel at ease, but he couldn’t muster the specter of incessant dread that normally haunted him even if he wanted to. It felt welcoming in every sense of the word, though he supposed some of that could have been the body’s natural response since Steven felt so secure there, too.

“Good morning!” came an enthusiastic greeting from the barista emerging through the swinging kitchen doors carrying a tray loaded with baked goods intended for sale, immediately going about storing them in the display case, crouched beyond sight before Marc could absorb any distinguishing features besides a juniper green sweater. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Marc directed his attention to the large chalkboard mounted above the coffee and tea stations. The same scrawl as before, more tempered into a looping print, filled the black expanse with myriad autumnal shades. Little doodles of vines, flowers, leaves, pumpkins, and acorns littered the edges and corners—damning evidence of an artistic soul if any he’d ever seen.

“All right! What can I get for—Steven!”

Marc’s gaze snapped down instantly, brows inching upward.

And then, in the instant that Marc Spector laid eyes upon you, he knew without the shadow of a doubt that you were Steven Grant’s soulmate.

You looked all the embodiment, the epitome, of autumn yourself. The sweater, thick knit and drowning your upper body, complimented your skin tone and hair color perfectly. You had the shiny locks woven into an intricate braid that coiled over your shoulder, and an honest-to-god crown of rose gold with delicate flower and branch motifs was set into the layers that started at the top of your head—functioning as a headband, effectively, but Marc was viscerally reminded of textbook depictions of paintings featuring goddesses of harvest. He could smell your perfume even over the other scents competing for his attention, earthy, musky, and as inexplicably warm as the air seeping in through his clothes. Your makeup was light and tasteful, used only to accent and enhance your already seraphic features rather than to alter or disguise them. Your smile was as ephemeral as it was breathtaking, and Marc found himself speechless.

“I’ve got your usual ready,” you told him, eyes crinkled with endearment. “Making an order a night ahead isn’t something I’ve seen too often unless it’s on finals week, but you’re right on time for pickup so I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

Marc stared, dumbfounded, lips parting slightly.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” you chuckled, the sound sincere, “I saw the entry time on the ticket when I came in this morning! I don’t know how you were able to get out of bed so early if you stayed up that late. Again. I know I’m a night owl, but you’ve got me beat!” You leaned over and reached for the tall cup that you set on the polished countertop in front of him. “Cash again today, darlin’, or are you going to surprise me?”

…Oh, bollocks!

And just like that, as Marc had idly hypothesized, your words—or perhaps the term of endearment—like an invocation drew Steven forth from their headspace with all the unstoppable force of a monsoon. Marc was submerged and pulled away from the front in its irresistible current, disoriented and struggling to keep track of their shared senses during the mostly seamless (and entirely unanticipated) shift. Steven’s excited nattering drowned out any other noise, talking a mile a minute—much to your evident delight, if your widening smile was any indication. The only thing Marc could manage to concentrate on was the glittering of your eyes as you listened intently, hanging onto every word that left Steven’s mouth like gospel truth.

Another American in the middle of London, he mused idly, and a southerner at that. You didn’t look exactly like the traveling sort, and you definitely weren’t on any kind of corporate business working in a niche hole-in-the-wall place like this. You weren’t anyone dangerous, that much he could tell with just a glance. But above all, you seemed familiar with Steven—Marc knew Steven had spent a lot of time here, but how could he have possibly missed you?

(Then again, Marc hadn’t really felt like co-fronting all that often when he’d first settled Steven into London. Maybe it shouldn’t come as such a surprise when he hadn’t been paying that close of attention to Steven’s developing life unless it had been necessary to intervene.)

“That’s so exciting, Steven, I’m so happy for you!” you beamed, and Marc was finally able to concentrate while observing, still disoriented but steadier than initially. “I know you’ll knock it out of the park—I don’t know anyone else that’s as knowledgeable as you are!”

“Oh, stop, you’re just sayin’ that,” Steven dismissed, ducking his head as his face warmed. “I’ll certainly give it a good college try. But you shouldn’t discredit your knowledge, either, you know—I don’t know anyone else that has read all of Budge’s works twice like you have. And can quote the Pyramid Texts from memory…not to mention Weni’s tomb inscriptions, or the Cannibal Hymn…I could go on, I’m sure.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Your turn to shy away from a compliment. Your smile turned bashful. “Anyway, if they don’t take you on, they’re stupid, but I’ll be proud of you either way it goes! You’re so talented, they’d really be missing out—there’s no one better suited for the job.”

If it had come from anyone else, Marc might have suspected that flattery as patronizing or snowing—particularly directed towards Steven, who had always seemed to catch flak both from strangers and from those he referred to as his friends alike in regards to his unusual interests and prolific knowledge. But you were being entirely sincere—Marc prided himself on sniffing out liars, and there was nothing deceitful that he could discern about your bubbly demeanor, the way you hadn’t looked away from him once in the entire exchange.

“Thank you, love,” Steven responded finally, snagging Marc’s attention with the flustered tenderness in his softened tone. “I appreciate that.”

“Of course, darlin’.” You leaned over the counter and squeezed his wrist gently with a wink. “Now, go give them hell for me, all right? You’ve got it in the bag.”

Steven’s heart fluttered and he laid his free hand over yours, stroking the soft skin of your knuckles under his fingertips. “Will do,” he chuckled, remiss to see you rescind your warm touch. “I’ll let you know how it goes, yeah?”

“Please do. I need to know whether I need to order a ‘world’s greatest tour guide’ shirt ASAP or not,” you joked as he turned to leave. “Laters, gators!”

“In a while, crocodile!” His laughter, shaking head, and waggling wave precluded the burst of cold air plunging back over the body like the tide—a jarring change that made Marc scrabble for awareness.

“Sorry ‘bout that, mate,” Steven whispered to Marc, giddy and breathless. “Didn’t mean to oversleep—again—I’d be up a creek without a paddle if you hadn’t gotten up on time. Thank you, really, I don’t know what I would have done if—”

Who is that? Marc questioned, interjecting himself to stop Steven’s spiraling. He’d gotten used to his alter’s rambling and only interrupted if it turned anxious, but his unbearable curiosity got the better of him this time.

“Her? Oh, yeah, she’s great—always remembers what I order, I don’t even have to ask for it anymore. She’s not usually on the openin’ shift, though, must be fillin’ in for somebody else again. You know she’s a transfer student studyin’ here of all places? Must be wild doin’ it just for fun. A mighty long way from home, she is. She’s as brilliant as they come, really—an angel, too!”

Steven, Marc pressed.

The man punched the button to activate the queue for the crosswalk at the street corner, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watched the traffic flit back and forth. “What?”

She got your name right.

Steven looked down at the biodegradable sleeve protecting his hand from the cup’s heat, noticing the same script in green marker spelling out his name in a flourish—with a ‘V’, not a ‘PH’, like virtually every other establishment opted for without asking for a specification. Marc knew how much it vexed Steven when people didn’t bother to check first (or to remember it).

“Oh, yeah, she always has,” he grinned. He took a tentative sip, eyes fluttering shut as the too-sweet tea bloomed over his tongue in a burst of bright, citrusy flavor. Uncaffeinated, knowing Steven, but it did help to perk him up. “Thanks for grabbin’ this for me, by the way—I forgot to tell you I’d put in the order before fallin’ asleep last night.”

How long have you known her?

“Oh, about a month after we…well, you moved us here. Got mixed up on my days and wound up in there to dodge the rain—she gave me a towel and a drink on the house that day. I’ve been a bit hooked ever since. She’s a history buff, too, so it's really nice havin’ someone understand what I’m talkin’ about. Really sweet, that one. We’ve had lunch a few times since we made it back from Cairo—’bout scared her to death disappearin’ like I did.”

Marc swallowed down the immediate flush of guilt threatening to choke him. As Steven so often reminded him, it was all water under the bridge by now. How have I not met her yet?

“I’d ask you the same thing, mate,” Steven laughed quietly, nodding to another man who strolled up to cross as well. “Spent an awful lot of time there to relax, since…you know.”

Yeah. I know. When Steven glanced at the galvanized surface of the light pole, Marc had his arms folded with a quirked brow. Why haven’t you asked her out?

Steven choked mid-sip, sucking it down the wrong pipe and coughing harshly. He waved off the concerned glance from the stranger, tucking his face into the crook of his elbow to mumble, “I’ve thought about it, all right? Just—last time didn’t go so well, did it? No. Not really.”

All that’s settled, Marc reminded him mildly. And she’s definitely into you. What’s stopping you now?

The light turned green and Steven started across the street, thankful for the motor noise to drown out his muttering. “You, actually,” he sighed. “I didn’t…I wanted to talk to you about it first. You know, since…all that with Layla. I didn’t want to get myself trapped between a rock and a hard place if you weren’t ready for another committed relationship so soon.”

Marc scoffed. Me? I’ve never seen that girl a day in my life, Steven. A pity, too.

“Well, if I got into a relationship,” Steven explained, “you’d sort of be involved, too, right? You may not know her, but…you never know. It’s just something to think about, yeah?”

Thought about it, Marc did. All the way through Steven’s time meeting with HR, going over all the paperwork, signing endless documentation on the probation period requirements (if they rehired him), and finally interviewing for the available position. Marc was a bit too distracted with the turmoil of his thoughts to really pay that close attention to the process.

Steven did have a fair point. They were tied, no matter what. He…hadn’t really considered it, admittedly, much to his chagrin. He’d been focused on setting Steven’s affairs back to rights that he hadn’t given thought about his own. He’d never not regret losing Layla, but…Marc wasn’t grieving over it anymore. He wanted Steven to be able to pursue a meaningful relationship, to find happiness and build his life, to accomplish his goals and fulfill his dreams, above all else. But where did that leave Marc? As a bystander? Was he ready for another attempt at love?

He…wasn’t sure. Not yet. He’d have to test the waters first.

Marc didn’t resurface until after Steven was borderline skipping down the front steps, heart racing with excitement. How’d it go?

“Great! It went great!” Steven crowed, chest puffed out like a puffin. “They agreed to put me in on standby, and I’ll pick back up in the gift shop in the meantime, so—”

Wait, wait. Marc’s voice lowered. You didn’t get the tour guide position?

“Not a primary,” Steven explained, brimming with what Marc would have thought was misplaced enthusiasm. “But if one of the others calls in sick or goes on holiday I get to fill in for them! Isn’t that excitin’?”

I…thought you wanted to do it full-time? Marc said, confused.

“Oh, I did! But this is better than nothin’, and if I impress them enough they may bump me up when a full-time position does open up!” Steven grinned. “Got to take it one step at a time, yeah? Get my bluff back in that I’m not really a maniac.”

If that satisfies you, Marc acquiesced with a sigh. You sure you’re okay with it?

“For now, yeah. It’s just temporary.” Steven repeated the same motion as before, waiting for the lights to allow him passage. “So…did you think about what I said?”

Yeah. I did.

“...And?”

I’d be okay with you going out with her, Marc said. Don’t let me stop you from having a good time.

He could feel Steven’s brow furrow. “But what about you, Marc?”

I’ll…see. I’ll let you know if anything changes, all right?

“Marc.” Steven swallowed, fisting his hands into the pockets of Marc’s coat. “I…I really like her. A lot. I don’t want to risk jeopardizin’ our friendship with one date if a long-term relationship isn’t somethin’ you're comfortable with or lookin’ towards in the future. For better or for worse, we may very well end up sharin’ someone—maybe not quite like that, don’t laugh, you twit—just…findin’ someone that’s unbothered by us, you know? It’s all a bit nebulous until we actually reach that bridge, but…I wanted you to be prepared, and for that to inform your decision rather than you puttin’ my wants over your needs. Again.”

Marc…didn’t really know how to respond. Steven had always been the better communicator between the two of them, without a doubt, and it seemed that their therapist had given him a broader perspective than what Marc had ever known. And he was right—of course he was.

Why don’t you ask her out—just for something fun, he suggested despite Steven opening his mouth to reiterate his point, and I’ll get a better read on her. See if I’m…comfortable with her. That sound good? Then we can discuss it some more?

“Neutral ground. Yeah, that’ll…that’ll work.” Steven crossed the road again. “Will you want to introduce yourself, or…?”

I’ll hang back and let you have your time with her, Marc told him. But I’ll keep an eye open to see what she’s like.

“Never pegged you for a peepin’ tom,” Steven teased, heading straight towards the coffee shop entrance again. He stopped just short, hesitating.

Marc gestured that he enter in the reflection of the window Steven lingered in front of. Go on. You’ve already gone out to eat with her. Maybe suggest dinner or a movie? Or both? You could have her over at your place to watch TV if you think she’d prefer something casual. If she’s nerdy like you, she’ll gobble that shit up.

“Our place,” Steven corrected quietly. His pulse was thrumming worse than it had been while interviewing. “…Oh, what am I thinkin’? What if she says no?”

Why would she? Marc returned. You’re friends. Friends hang out together. It’s expensive as shit to do anything elaborate in public, anyway. And if she does say no, then you’ll have your answer going forward.

Steven swallowed, folding his hands over his flipping stomach and fiddling with the hem of his sleeves. “Yeah, sure, but what if I don’t want to know? Maybe I’m better off not knowin’ whether she’s just thought of me as only a friend this whole time? It wouldn’t make a difference, I guess, she is my friend and I have every intention of keepin’ her around even if she does say no, but…” He let out a ragged sigh and ducked his head. “…bullocks. Why is this so hard?”

Want me to do it?

“No,” Steven breathed firmly. “You’ll go and say somethin’ blunt and I’ll have to fix it because you are the most awkward person I have ever met.”

Well, if you don’t, I will. Marc tipped his head towards the door handle. Just go for it, Steven. You brawled against the supercharged avatar of a banished goddess and had the upper hand. I think you can handle this.

“Brawlin’ the avatar of a goddess didn’t entail rejection, mate,” Steven growled, but reached for the tarnished brass anyway. “...Here goes nothin’.”

Just play it casual. Don’t think about it too hard. Like you’re doing right now. Stop it.

“Just give me a minute, yeah, you twit?” Steven muttered, slipping through the door. The pace had picked up in the cafe, evidently, because the tables had filled up—but two other workers were behind the counter.

One—a tall, willowy girl with delicate golden piercings littering the shells of her ears—glanced up and spotted him. “Hey, Steven,” she called, ��she’s upstairs helping the newbie learn the till.”

“Thanks, Amy,” he said, making a bee-line for the stairs. “Appreciate it!”

Steven must have sensed Marc’s perplexion because once he’d stepped into the quiet stairwell and started up the steps, he lowered his voice again. “She corrects people when they get my name wrong,” he explained softly. “All of them pick up the slack when I show up because they know we’ll end up chattin’ longer than we ever mean to—or at least that’s what she told me. I think they tease her about it. They’re a nice lot, though.”

Marc remained silent as Steven emerged into the bookstore upstairs, taking in the endless, winding shelves that made the place seem boundless. You were behind the counter by yourself, typing into the tablet serving as the register with a furrowed brow. A pimpled young man was sheepishly sorting through one of the display tables and restocking the stacks of new nonfiction releases on the opposite side of the main part of the room.

Steven hesitated again, lingering just behind the doorway and out of sight. Marc could feel their heart hammering against the inside of their ribcage. Steven folded his hands over his chest, wringing his fingers together, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

Go on, Steven, Marc said gently. It’s okay.

“All right,” Steven murmured, swallowing, and moved into the store.

It seemed the encouraging approach worked better with Steven—Marc would have to keep that in mind.

You lifted your head at the movement in your peripheral, and Marc observed the edges of your expression crinkle in delight. “Hey!” you chirped, stepping out from behind the counter and moving up to greet Steven properly. “How’d it go?”

Steven took a shaky breath, unable to keep the tentative smile off his face. “I got the job.”

“You got the job!” you cheered, voice rising with your excitement. You bounced on your feet and grasped his arms, eyes absolutely sparkling. “I knew you would! When do you start?”

“On Monday.” Steven bit his lip, reaching up and curling his long fingers around your elbows. “They took me back in the gift shop, but I’m on standby for the guides. It’s not exactly what I wanted, but it’s a place to start, yeah?”

“As long as you’re happy,” you said without hesitation, “I’m happy.” You lifted a hand to comb an errant curl off his forehead, the skim of your fingertips along his hairline sending frissons rocketing down his body. “God, Steven, I am so proud of you, darlin’. I know how much it bothered you not working.” Your brows shot up and your smile widened—if that were even possible. “Oh, you’ll have to tell me when your first tour is! I want to be there!”

“I—really?” Steven squeaked, and Marc would have rolled his eyes had he control of the body. He settled for a sigh. “You do?”

“Of course! I’m sorry I missed that traveling exhibit you talked about a few months ago—it bugged me to no end that they only put seven of the Ennead on all the posters—but everything else you’ve mentioned about the museum makes it seem really interesting! I would have visited it while it was still there, but classes kept me so busy right at the end of spring semester, and I didn’t—oh!” You slid your hand down to his wrist and squeezed. “You know what? Why don’t you practice on me—you know, if you’re nervous about it? You’ll do a great job regardless, but it would give you the opportunity to outline all your thoughts, you know? I know it can be nerve-wracking presenting information to anyone, much less perfect strangers, regardless of whether you know the material by heart like we do or not.”

“I—sure?” Steven’s mind was reeling. Marc struggled to focus through the maelstrom of thoughts and feelings Steven was floundering to compartmentalize. “You—you noticed the posters, too?”

“Uh, yeah? I meant to mention it to you sooner, but with everything that happened, it slipped my mind. I…didn’t really want to go, while you were gone in Cairo,” you admitted, gaze glancing off to the side. He knew that recalling his disappearance always brought back the worry and stress you’d felt having no way to contact him. You shook your head slightly. “I mean, you don’t have to tote me around if you don’t want to, it was just a thought—”

“No, I’d love to!” Steven blurted. “Not ‘tote you about’, necessarily, but if you—if you wanted, I’ll—I can show you around the museum. There’s a permanent wing with Egyptian artifacts that’s fairly impressive on its own.” He drew a haggard breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He glanced towards the screen, finding Marc’s amused expression reflected back at him. “I, um…”

She gave you an opening, Marc commented wryly, raising his brows. You going to take it, Steven?

“...I’ll do that, and I’ll do you one better,” Steven continued, stuttering a bit while inwardly cursing his inability to be suave in any capacity. Marc’s chuckle didn’t help his fluster. “I’ll—I’ll even, uh…” He dropped his gaze to his shoes, throat threatening to close up. Damn this anxiety, honestly. “...take…take you out—to dinner…?”

Was that a suggestion or a plea? Marc said, poorly stifling his chuckle.

Steven shot him a rather nasty glare, and this time Marc’s alter didn’t need to speak out loud to clearly communicate his growing exasperation with his host.

“You…really?”

Marc watched your demeanor ease from enthusiasm to something a little more…anticipatory. Your brow quirked up, your lashes lowering, and while you looked a little hesitant to assume the true nature and depths of Steven’s implication, the tentative but shining hope in your eyes only confirmed Marc’s suspicions.

You were infatuated with his alter.

“I mean—we’ve already grabbed a bite to eat before,” Steven pointed out in a rush, heat crawling up his neck, “so I thought—you know, since our schedules won’t be as adherent once I start back to work—that we could go out and…celebrate? Would—would you…be agreeable to such an arrangement…?”

Your smile softened into something shy. “I’d be quite agreeable to such an arrangement, Mister Grant,” you echoed in a low tone. “And when would this take place, exactly?”

He swallowed roughly. “I—uh…a-are you off, tomorrow?”

“I’ve got the opening shift, but that finishes up at five,” you offered apologetically. “When does the museum close?”

“At eight, on Saturdays,” he told you, his smile returning slowly but surely. “I could walk you over, if you’d like? Then we could grab a bite after…?”

“That sounds lovely,” you beamed. “I’ll make sure to gussy up for it. You know, since it’s a special event and all—I’m chuffed to be your first tourist.”

That drew a laugh out of Steven—though Marc had noticed that his alter had started to use bits and pieces of American slang, he wouldn’t have expected you to pick up on Steven’s.

“I’m chuffed that you want to be my first,” he chuckled quietly, but during the split second that your brows rose slightly and a certain twinkle flared to life in your eye (as well as Marc spectacularly failing to restrain his laughter this time), Steven realized his unintended blunder. Heat flared to life in his face and he ducked his chin, holding out his hands to hide his mortified expression. “Tourist! My first tourist! Bloody hell, I didn’t—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You threaded your fingers with his and tugged his hands down, giving them a squeeze. “It’s okay,” you assured him, voice light with mirth, all traces of timidity evaporated. You seemed coy, now, the gentle curve of a knowing smirk crinkling the corners of your eyes. It was a strikingly good look on you. You winked at him playfully. “I know what you meant, Steven.”

“I…good. Yeah, good.” Steven cleared his throat and glanced away from your gaze. “So, uh…I’ll see you t-tomorrow, right?”

“Sure thing, darlin’,” you crooned. Marc would label that particular look as eager. “Just let me know if your plans change.”

“Will do, love,” he returned in a murmur. The other worker in the room, who had since secluded himself around the corner behind a shelf, coughed as no doubt a cloud of dust rained down upon him when he pulled a couple of used books free. Steven cleared his throat reflexively, taking a half-step back—you’d gotten close enough that he could have stooped down to kiss you if he had wanted to. And oh, how he wanted to. “I’ll…see you then.” He gave you a bashful, toothy grin. “Have a good evenin’, yeah?”

“I will knowing I get to see you again,” you returned smoothly, though your complexion darkened even as you said it. “Be careful going home, Steven.”

It was cute. You were cute.

Steven was definitely done for, Marc knew that much—but Marc was so fucked.

“I will. You, too.” Steven carefully unthreaded his hands from your anchoring grasp, more than a little dizzy as his lungs cleared of your perfume. He was remiss at its retreat. “Laters, gators.”

“After a while, crocodile,” you returned brightly.

Marc managed to bite down his tongue until Steven floated all the way back onto the street, mindlessly making a beeline for the bus stop. It was only when Steven boarded, settled into the crowd, and closed his eyes with a relieved little sigh that he finally spoke up. See? I told you that you didn’t have anything to worry about.

Steven jumped a little—a true testament to how far out of it he was. “Oh,” he suspired, glancing absently at his reflection in the window. Marc’s smug grin didn’t even put a dent in Steven’s euphoria. “Yeah. You were right, mate. Sorry I doubted you.”

His tone was low enough that the other passengers wouldn’t hear him. Marc pressed against the front carefully, leaning in as Steven’s awareness faded—the exhaustion from staying up so late the night before as well as getting up so early was finally catching up to them. Want me to take the body?

“Yeah, sure, mate,” Steven mumbled, his eyelids drifting shut once more. “I’m knackered.”

Marc slipped in seamlessly, allowing a moment for him to orient himself before peering around him. The strangers didn’t cast him a second glance, even as he swayed under the fatigue that hit him like a freight train. “That’s what happens when you stay up all night reading,” he muttered to his alter, but when Marc received no response he knew that Steven had already sunk into dormancy.

The soft huff of laughter that escaped him was fonder than he’d ever readily admit.

“I’m proud of you, buddy,” he murmured, leaning against one of the support beams and allowing it to take the brunt of his weight. “You deserve to have a couple of wins, for once.”

Marc had the body to himself for the rest of the evening, it seemed. However late Steven had stayed up the night before, it had tuckered out his alter, so he remained dormant while Marc went through the motions of fixing dinner. Not a peep was uttered as he pulled out the ribeye he’d stored in the back of the fridge after their last grocery run, mouth watering at the thought of pan-seared steak. (He didn’t mind Steven being vegan, and Steven didn’t mind Marc’s habits too much, either—although they’d both had to come to terms with each other’s dieting over time.)

Marc settled in with his supper not twenty minutes later, the plate full of steak and potatoes warming his lap as he fished the TV remote out from between the couch cushions. He turned the channel from Discovery to TBS, turning the volume down low when he realized that the announcer he couldn’t stand was commentating on the current game. He tucked in, and by the time the plate and glass were empty, his eyelids were getting unbearably heavy.

Marc cleaned the dishes, then went to shower. The neighbors had evidently just gotten home from work as well because while the water was still hot, the pressure was terrible. Even still, it felt nice to be clean—and when he settled into bed with his laptop he had no intention of falling asleep quite yet because he didn’t want to wake up halfway through the morning.

Despite his wishes, however, at some point his laptop was shut and set to the side as he rolled over and slipped off into a heavy slumber.

Marc jerked awake as a loud clatter tore him from his accidental nap.

He was on his feet in less than a heartbeat, blinking rapidly to clear the crust and haze from his eyes, hands in fight stance in case of an intruder. The apartment was still empty. The windows offered no natural light, the skies scattered with swathes of dark clouds, and a quick glance at the alarm clock reported the late hour.

He scowled and glanced around, then down, and realized that Steven’s phone had fallen off the shelf. He stooped to pick it up with bated breath, gingerly turning it over as though the gentle treatment would rectify any scratches or cracks incurred by the device’s untimely dive.

Untouched, thankfully. He didn’t want to have to replace another one.

He swiped the dust from the screen with the pad of his thumb and, in so doing, caused the screen to flare to life. He squinted against the harsh brightness, but frowned when he realized that there was a long stream of unopened notifications awaiting. The vibrations might have caused it to slide off the surface of its temporary resting place.

‘Hey, darlin’!

‘I know you’re probably settled at home and really tired after the day you had, but could I ask you a huge favor? Just this once?

‘I ended up covering the closing shift so I’m trying to lock everything up, but there’s this guy that’s been standing at the door ever since all the others left.

‘I tried telling him we’re closed, but he won’t leave.

‘Would it be too much to ask you to come walk me home? He’s giving me the creeps.

‘He just keeps staring.

‘I tried waiting in the office for like ten minutes, but when I came back out he was still there.

‘He’s tried opening the door twice in the last five minutes.

‘Please, Steven?

‘I’m scared.’

Marc’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. The last message was sent five minutes prior, likely on a repeat timer. The first text had been sent nearly half an hour ago. His thumb flew over the screen in seconds without thinking, typing a rapid response one-handed as he shoved his feet into his boots by his wardrobe and pulled over the coat rack by the front door as he grabbed his coat and rushed out of their apartment. ‘Lock yourself in the office and have the authorities dialed until I get there. If he tries to break in before then, call them and stay put. I’ll be there in ten. Find something to defend yourself with and DO NOT under ANY circumstances let him in.’

He made it in eight. The taxi driver was beyond miffed at his snarled demands, but Marc slapped a couple of extra bills into his hand as he rolled to a stop on the street corner. Marc already had the door open and was climbing out before the taxi was fully stopped, heart hammering against the inside of his ribs.

You hadn’t responded to his message, and when he’d tried to call you three times on the drive over it had gone to your cheery voicemail message: “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the phone, I probably got lost in a book again! Leave your name and number and I’ll try to call you back ASAP!”

He’d left one the third time, croaking your name urgently. “...I swear to God, sweetheart, don’t try to do anything brave. Steven wouldn’t be able to survive it.”

Marc’s eyes adjusted to the dark slowly as the taxi unwittingly slunk off out of sight, the headlights fading around the corner, since the streetlight wasn’t on. A cursory glance at the sidewalk revealed shattered glass, and when he glanced up at the bulb he realized that it had been shot out. The security camera mounted above the entryway, still blinking live, would have no way of recording in pitch black.

That drew his gaze to the front door, hanging open on its hinges with the glass slats broken in, jagged like teeth in the thready shafts of moonlight peeking out from between the amorphous clouds.

“Fuck,” Marc breathed, hand jerking towards his hip—but in his rush he hadn’t grabbed his holster from his safe under the bed. He no longer had borderline-immortalizing armor, either—perhaps the first time in weeks he was remiss to no longer have access to it. “Fuck.”

…What’s goin’ on, mate…?

“Nothing, Steven,” Marc hissed, “go back to sleep.”

…Why’re you out this late? A pause as Marc gritted his teeth and braced a hand on the edge of the door, easing inside the unlit building without a sound. Wait! What’re you doin’ here? Is that—why’s the door broken like that?!

“Shh,” he growled, eyes darting around the coffee shop. Not a sign of life was to be had, no movement in the eerie silence. Marc slunk towards the back, eyes struggling to take in the shadows coalescing on the floor. No one was hiding behind the dining furniture. No one was behind the counter.

Oh, God, Steven whispered hoarsely, his eyes rounded in terror reflecting back at Marc in the fridge’s glass face as Marc stalked past it towards the kitchen. Someone’s broken in, haven’t they? Where’s—oh my God, what if she ended up closin’ tonight? But you wouldn’t be here otherwise—where is she?

Marc stifled his response, peering through the slit between the swinging doors separating the main room from the kitchen. When he detected no intruders, he pushed inside.

You’ve got to find her, Marc, Steven urged.

“Steven,” Marc muttered.

If she was here by herself who knows what—what happened, or—

“Steven.”

—if whoever did it is still—oh, no, she must be so frightened! Marc! You need to—

“Steven! I know,” he hissed in an attempt to appease his alter. He could feel Steven pressing heavily against the front of their headspace, quivering in fright. “I can handle this, trust me. Just give me a minute. I can’t concentrate when you’re spiraling. I need you to calm down.”

Right, Steven murmured apologetically, although threads of his brimming anxiety still wove their way into his words, sorry, mate.

No one in the kitchen. The only sign of a disturbance was a baking station upturned of its supplies.

Marc, Steven murmured gravely, the knife block’s tipped over.

Marc eased back out into the main room, brows furrowed. The light switch right next to the door had been smashed in by force, a smaller crack. Pistol-whipped, maybe?

Pistol-whipped? Steven whispered. Marc felt their stomach shrink in fright. What do you mean? Does that mean he’s got a—

Marc shushed him. The security cameras inside still blinked attentively, blinded by the night. The register was lopsided, now that he looked. There was a dent on the tray as though someone had tried to force it open, and a paring knife snapped in halves lay victimized upon the scored countertop. Something dark and crimson speckled the stained wood.

It needs a key, Steven pointed out, voice rising in volume and in pitch so suddenly Marc’s ears rang, and it’s in the—!

A resounding crash and thud made Marc’s eyes snap towards the hallway, frissons rocketing across his skin. His shoulders and fists wound tight as he snatched a pencil from the cup next to the register and prowled towards the open doorway.

A pencil? What the hell are you goin’ to do with a bleedin’ pencil? You’re not John Wick, mate!

“For fuck’s sake, Steven,” Marc growled.

The clouds shifted, and the moon shone in full force through the windows on that side, pouring over the polished hardwood floors and casting Marc’s looming shadow through the side room. The narrow hallway leading to the office had papers from the whiteboard fluttering to the ground.

Marc’s pulse was roaring in his ears, almost as loud as Steven hollering for him to move, and he was rushing towards the door hanging from its hinges with a shattered doorknob before he could even process the limp shape sprawled face-down on the office floor and—

A jarring strike against the back of his head nearly sent him careening towards the ground, too. Marc let out a curse of pain, stumbling, barely able to catch himself on the edge of the desk while his equilibrium abandoned him. His vision swam, knees buckled, and he threw up his open palm to catch the weapon before it finished the job of knocking him unconscious.

“Oh my god! Steven!” A clatter of wood, the thunk of knees striking the floor next to him, warm hands cradling his face and sifting through his hair only to retreat just as quickly, as though burned. “Holy shit, I thought—God, I’m so sorry—why didn’t you say anything?”

Oh, thank God she’s all right, Steven breathed on a heavy sigh—somehow completely unrattled by your humbling blow.

“The fuck is that?” Marc groaned, reaching up and pressing his hand against the crown of his head. He winced and withdrew his inspecting touch, studying the tacky, dark smear staining his fingers incredulously before glancing towards the offending object lying innocently at his feet. “A fuckin’ rolling pin?”

You pulled back slightly, stiffening all over. Marc looked up to find your expression pinched with confusion—then he watched it shift into realization. “Oh, my God, I am so sorry!”

“Stop apologizing,” he groused, regaining enough of his bearings to look around the room. The unconscious thief had crumpled not a yard away, black attire and mask askew as his sliced palm dribbled onto the rug. “Did you…Christ, you knocked him the fuck out, didn’t you?” He raised a brow at you. “Color me impressed. You ever consider playing ball?”

You didn’t respond that time, eyes darting towards the offender, and Marc didn’t miss the way they glazed over as your hands began to tremble before you’d bundled them against your chest. Marc straightened shakily to his feet with swimming vision, heavily stepping over the unknown assailant to tug off the ski mask and squint at his face through the blurriness. He kicked away the gun near his elbow for safe measure.

“Oh,” you breathed, and Marc watched the unease settle into your expression, “I…I’m pretty sure he came in this morning. I just thought he was just looking at all the artwork, wandering around like he did.”

“Scouting out the place, probably,” Marc suspected. He gripped the nape of the man’s jacket and pulled him up so he could leverage him onto his shoulder—it would be easier to carry him than to drag him, as bulky as he was. Marc looked at you once he stood. “Call the cops, I’m going to tie him up in case he wakes back up. You got anything to use?”

You swallowed, crawling carefully to your feet and using the desk for balance. “There’s…there’s baker’s twine, in the kitchen,” you offered meekly.

“Good enough. Maybe this bastard will cut himself some more,” he growled, hauling him back into the main room. He unceremoniously dropped him near the entrance, watching him with a glare as you shuffled in behind him. Although the man’s head bounced against the floor at Marc’s manhandling, Steven offered no protest. (Quite the opposite, actually.)

Serves him right, Marc’s alter muttered darkly.

You raised your phone to your ear as you disappeared into the kitchen, but the coffee shop’s oppressive silence allowed him to hear every word. “Hello? Yes, um…my name’s…” The quiet clunk of a drawer being opened interrupted your demure tone. “...I was closing up at work and someone tried to rob the place. I locked myself in the office and when he broke in to get the register key, I, uh…I knocked him out…yes. My, um…my boyfriend’s here with me, now. Yes. No, ma’am, my manager’s at home, and the owner is, too. Yes, ma’am.” You emerged from the kitchen, scissors and a ball of twine in your free hand. “The address? Right. It’s…”

Boyfriend…? Steven questioned, voice cracking.

“That’s really what you’re going to focus on right now?” Marc mumbled, grateful that you were still distracted for the moment. He took the objects from your shaking fingers, crouching down to bind the guy’s gloved hands behind his back with loop after loop of the roughened string. He didn’t rightly care if it cut off the circulation. The bastard deserved to lose some fingers after what he tried to do.

“...They’ll be here in fifteen? Great. Th-thanks. Have a good night.” You tucked your phone into your back pocket, then edged back and sank into one of the booths to bury your face in your hands after a brief glance at the unmoving silhouette on the floor. “Oh, God. I…I didn’t kill him, did I?”

“No. But he might wish you had with the headache he’ll have when he wakes up.” Marc stood with a low groan, leaning back to pop his spine. “You’ve got a mean swing, sweetheart.”

You were staring at him when he turned back to you, hands folded over your mouth with your elbows propped on the table. Your breaths were shaky, body rigid, but your eyes were brimming with questions and uncertainty alike.

Bloody hell, Marc, you haven’t even introduced yourself! Steven scolded, frowning at him in the display case’s glossy front. If you’re not goin’ to bother to try to comfort her, give me the body.

“I’d like to see you try to explain all this to the cops,” Marc sighed, mostly under his breath, but he saw your brows rise slightly. He cleared his throat and tried to refocus on you. “You handled that well,” he redirected. “You were prepared.”

She’s quakin’! So help me, if you don’t talk to her properly, I’ll —

“Thanks…thanks to you,” you murmured, studying him contemplatively. “You…did send that text, right? I didn’t think it sounded like Steven, but…”

Marc nodded, easing into the booth directly next to you, but careful to give you some breathing room. “Scared the shit out of us, honestly. Didn’t know what to expect.”

“I…I should have called the police sooner, I know,” you admitted, “but when he started banging on the door, I…well, I panicked. I grabbed what I could and did what you said.”

“You did good,” he repeated. “Most people would have frozen.”

“I…normally do,” you confessed. “I hear a loud noise or someone shouting and I just…lock up, like a deer in headlights.” You cleared your throat, eyes falling to the floor between your feet and his as you folded your arms over the tabletop close to your torso. “You helped. A lot. I wasn’t quite as scared, knowing you both were on the way.”

Marc tilted his head slightly, eyes tracing the mercurial moonlight caressing the gilded edges of your profile. It was easier to take note of the details while fronting—observing from the back of the headspace like he’d been forced to after Steven had rushed to take the body earlier that morning left all the images fuzzy and watery. He’d been so shocked by his initial impression as a whole that he’d failed to file away the intricacies of your features—like walking into a particular room of an art museum, being captivated by the overall image a painting presented, but failing to step closer to scrutinize the individual brushstrokes and knife scrapes. Again, he was reminded of the textbook pictures he’d glared at in his youth, struggling to assign names of meaning to portraiture—but now he understood acutely what it meant to commit someone’s likeness to immortality via the deftness of hand utilizing vibrant mediums and careful measure.

He wasn’t much of an artist himself, had never been (that had always been Randal’s wheelhouse), but there was something about the crinkle of laughter lines in the corners of your eyes, the bracketing dimples pulled taught from the tension pursing your lips, the dark sweep of your lashes feathering diaphanous shadows across the arches of your cheeks, and the gentle sloping curvature of your supple face all awoke an untapped desire to do so (or to at least make an attempt at it, as horrendous as it would likely be).

Marc, Steven pressed, miffed at his prolonged silence when you were still obviously in such acute distress—he could see the tears welling in your eyes, glittering like molten silver dewdrops against your lashes. Do somethin’!

“...Hey,” he said softly, reaching out and extending an open hand in the narrow space between the pair of you—the one untainted by his own blood. “It’s okay. You got him. You didn't even really need me—us, ” he corrected at Steven’s sound of malcontent. “Steven’s here, too. You about gave him a heart attack.”

You looked at his hand as though he were a total stranger, just a touch leery, but as your eyes lifted back to his face Marc saw what he could only call awe there instead. Your hand twitched up, seemingly of its own accord, but you hesitated. He raised his brows just so, tucking his chin slightly and bobbing his hand a little to coax you to reciprocate. Finally, you carefully placed your hand in his, expression tightening as you no doubt felt the calluses lining the bumps of his fingers and the heels of his palms, the roughened sandpaper texture of his skin—instead of lacing your fingers with his to clasp them together, like Marc expected, you only hooked them to turn his hand over to your curious gaze.

“When Steven said you were a soldier, I expected you to have scars,” you commented quietly, the pad of your thumb pressing into the divots of flesh between his knuckles.

Marc was dumbfounded, a bit by your observation and the unspoken inquisitiveness behind it, partly by Steven’s evident admission of at least some of Marc’s past, but mostly by the fact that it seemed as if his alter hadn’t even managed to work up the balls to hold your hand yet.

We’ve—we’ve held hands! Steven protested, flustered to admit to it but indignant to Marc’s incredulity. Just not like this! I’ve helped her cross the street and up the stairs and the like, but…I never figured she’d want to…to do this.

“I always tended to heal up quick,” Marc offered when his shocked silence drew your confused attention back up to him. “What all did Steven tell you about me?”

“Only the basics—nothing personal, I promise.” You tilted your head slightly, regarding him like one would while translating an ancient passage from a dead language—and while from most people it would feel invasive, cause Marc’s skin to prickle uncomfortably at being observed like the freak he was(n’t, just felt like at times, he had to remind himself), from you it just felt overwhelming. In an oddly…good way. He found that, despite himself, he didn’t mind it all that much. The weight of your focus had an odd sort of magnetism to it, addictive in its sincerity. (No wonder Steven was so taken with you.) “Little things, like how you were born in Chicago, and that your dad’s a rabbi. You played baseball growing up, and you still watch the Cubs when they play, even if you have to record the games. You like sci-fi—but you’re a Star Wars fan, not a Trekkie, unfortunately. You were a marine, then you did some freelance work before you ended up here so Steven could get a job at the museum.”

Marc released a heavy breath he hadn’t realized that he was holding, the sudden tension that the topic of his past always brought rolling off his shoulders as quickly as it had surmounted them. “Yeah. All true.” He resisted the urge to probe into that little ‘unfortunately’ remark, directing the conversation elsewhere. “I take it that you’re aware…you know, about…us.”

“He told me just enough about that, too.” You resumed your study of the topography on the back of his hand once more, and the hammering of his heart eased off enough that he felt like he could breathe fully again. Your touch was simultaneously distracting and grounding, gentle unlike anything he’d felt in years—as light as sunshine, yet as sure as its warmth. “You’re the host of the system. Steven grew up alongside you since you were twelve, but he didn’t know he was your alter until a few months ago when you lost your mom.” Your expression pinched with sympathy. “I’m really sorry about that. I can’t imagine what it’s like.”

“You don’t want to,” he mumbled on reflex. The last thing he wanted to think about—at this moment (or ever, really)—was his mother. He was grateful you didn’t bring up his brother, because he doubted you were unaware of that if you knew everything else. He cleared his throat and retracted his hand carefully, so as not to startle you, but you still jerked your hands back and folded them against your stomach with an apologetic look. “You want a drink? I need a drink.”

“I’m afraid we don’t keep any of the hard stuff, despite my manager insisting the apple cider would be better with it,” you murmured, the slightest suggestion of a wry smile quirking the corner of your mouth, “but there’s some glasses for water in the kitchen.”

“Water will do,” he responded, dragging his eyes away with no small amount of restraint from your dimple that pocketed its own private pool of moonlight. “Be right back.”

In the seclusion of the kitchen, Marc released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The glasses you mentioned lined one of the shelves, and he brought down two to prop under the dispenser on the industrial refrigerator. He glowered at a sheepish-looking Steven in his galvanized reflection. He gritted his teeth and drew a breath.

Before you start, mate, Steven interjected, I only explained just what she said to her the night we got back from Cairo. I didn’t go into detail then, and I haven’t mentioned it since. I knew you wouldn’t want me floutin’ your past around town, and since she’s a stranger to you, I only told her enough to give her context for my weird behavior and disappearin’ for two weeks…even if I was still a bit miffed about the entire ordeal at the time.

Marc pursed his lips, attempting to formulate a curt response, but he was unable to muster it. He sighed and shook his head instead. “...Thanks, Steven.”

Your business is yours, mate. I didn’t really have a hand in it—you know, not until recently. She’ll only find out if you tell her or if you give me permission. Steven paused, glancing towards the folding doors with some reticence. Though, I suppose…if we do start to date her, we may have to.

Marc knew that. It was partly why he’d taken so long to deliberate on the matter. You wouldn’t necessarily have to know about his work for Khonshu, per se, but…you would deserve to know the circumstances that had molded Marc and Steven into who they were as a person. He never wanted to repeat his past mistakes, everything he’d done to Layla (and Steven, by proxy, he supposed)—as much as he’d loved her (and still did, to a certain extent, despite everything), it had been torture keeping that many secrets from her for so long. The years of half-truths had eaten away at him until his guilt had compounded into all the other stress and turmoil he’d been experiencing there at the end. Steven and Layla had ultimately been innocent bystanders in the typhoon of trouble that was one Marc Spector.

He needed to do better, and you deserved better—as much as you cared for Steven, Marc wanted to give it the best chance he could to make a potential relationship successful. That would require total transparency in the details that mattered. And, unfortunately for Marc’s proclivity for keeping every thought and feeling as close to his vest as possible, the details that mattered entailed the origin, nature, and impact of his mental health.

“I know it’ll be hard, worrying about her reaction,” he muttered, drawing Steven’s attention back to him as he filled the other glass. “But don’t make the same mistake I did, Steven. If she’s as smart as she seems, I don’t think she’ll have much trouble understanding. And…she cares about you. That much is obvious. I doubt that she’ll look at you any differently.”

…It’s not just me that I’m worried about, Marc.

Brow furrowing, Marc was about to respond. A rustle, bump, and sharp gasp tore his attention away, however—he dropped the glass in his haste to barrel back into the main room.

Steven’s voice was loud enough it made his ears ring. Marc!

Marc’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach at the sight. The crazy bastard had evidently worked his hands free of the twine, wrists raw and bleeding, staining the fingers that he had coiled into your hair to crane your head back. He had you pinned against the counter with the weight of his body, a knife Marc hadn’t spied flush against your jugular while both your fists clutched his arm to hold the weight of his attack at bay.

It must have happened in seconds. He must not have been knocked out completely, or had roused and worked to get his hands free before making any sudden movements to alert either of you until you were alone (and Christ, Marc should never have let you out of his sight). You wouldn’t have had enough time to call out to Marc if you’d gotten up to flee, or had been too frightened to make a noise for fear of having your throat slit sooner (not that he hadn’t even introduced himself and didn’t know if Steven had told you his name—fuck his lack of foresight). Even still, heart squeezing so tightly at the sight he worried that it might stop altogether, Marc almost hesitated.

Almost.

He grabbed the guy’s wrist in one hand and his elbow in the other, pushing and pulling simultaneously with all his might to shatter the hinging joint. The man cried out a curse and stumbled away from you and Marc. The knife clattered harmlessly against the countertop, the razor edge gleaming crimson.

Marc slid into place in front of you, reaching back and pressing his palm against your hip. His vision had cleared enough from your blow by now that, as the intruder stepped back into the flood of moonlight proper, his pale features were illuminated in full view.

He sure was an ugly son of a bitch. Glassy skin, now prickling with sweat as he clutched his broken arm, stretched over gaunt features. Sickly gray eyes concentrated hellfire at Marc, crooked teeth revealed by a curled lip. A horrid, jagged scar that still looked relatively fresh curled over the edge of his jaw and hooked over his Adam’s apple. Marc wondered how he could have possibly survived such an injury if it had been as deep as the deep tissue would suggest.

Ay, mierda!*

Marc froze.

…Marc?

“Fuck,” Marc hissed.

He had little time to react. The bastard drew yet another knife from the back of his belt (and Marc knew he must have been losing his touch to have missed one with that big of a handle) and lunged for him. Marc sucked in a breath, tried to throw out his arms forward to disarm him, but instead his free hand reached back to fumble against the counter.

He blinked, disoriented. Your voice, tight with alarm, pulled him from the fuzziness that stuffed his head full of cotton. “—stop, stop! Just stop! What’re you doing?!”

Marc inhaled sharply, dropping the man—knocked out cold, as limp as a corpse—against the floor and taking a full pace backwards. The knife—the first one—was clenched so tightly in his fist that his knuckles ached, but he was gripping it with the blade down and there was only blood on the butt of it. The man’s temple wept scarlet on the floor in a steady drip.

He dropped it, too, as though it had burned him. He only then registered your hands gripping his upper arm, crowding into his side and vying for him to meet your rounded, desperate gaze. “Are you okay?” you said, eyes flitting over his face as though you could discern his roaring mind via the crinkles of his pinched expression. “Hey, look at me—did he hurt you?”

“No,” Marc gritted out through the static in his head, laying a hand over your fingers twisted into the sleeve of his jacket. You relinquished your grip far more reluctantly this time, retreating only far enough to give him room to breathe. “I’m—I’m good.” He swallowed roughly. “What…what happened?”

Your brow furrowed, and your scrutiny increased tenfold. “What do you mean?”

He had blacked out. He glanced at the display case, but Steven—wan and rigid, with his hands twisted into the sweater falling over his stomach—only shook his head. Not me, Marc, he whispered hoarsely. I didn’t see anythin’, either.

“I…nothing, sweetheart.” He looped an arm around your shoulders and guided you into the kitchen. “Stay here. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get back up until the cops get here. Don’t come out until I call you.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” you retorted, “he tried to kill you!”

“Like he didn’t try to—” …kill you, too. Marc’s eyes zeroed in on your throat. “Fuck.”

“I’m fine,” you told him immediately, but didn’t resist his touch when he gently grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt your head back just enough to eye the wound. It was only a thin, shallow line against the tough column of your jugular, which bobbed with a swallow as he inspected the thin skin around it with light prodding. There was minimal blood, and it was already congealing. Your pulse leapt rhythmically against his fingertips, and when he pulled his head back he found that you were averting your gaze with a darkened complexion.

“You got a first aid kit around here?” he murmured, releasing you and watching you lower your chin to gaze up at him through your lashes. (So shy.) “Don’t want it getting infected.”

“In the kitchen. I can handle it. Thank you, uh...” You flashed him a thin smile, still obviously shaken, but your eyes tracked over his shoulder. “...is that…?”

Flickering lights reflected the rainy street, and Marc released a heavy sigh. “Maybe wait a minute—they’ll want a picture for the report and the court charges.” He frowned and looked back down at the offender, who hadn’t twitched once. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you started, but when Marc cast you a firm look, you stopped. Then your expression morphed into a sincere smile, something fond couched in your eyes as all the tension finally drained from your frame. “Well, I guess you and Steven are that much alike, at least.”

Marc raised an inquisitive brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He always insists on at least walking me to the bus stop when we eat together and stuff,” you explained, “even if it’s just down the street—like a proper gentleman.” A teasing glint entered your eyes, causing them to glitter like a supernova in the strobing yellow and blue illumination flooding the coffee shop. You extended a hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you in person, Marc. Steven speaks of you fondly. But…this isn’t the first time, is it?”

Marc blinked. So Steven had told you his name. Maybe you hadn’t felt comfortable enough using it until now. Had he made you uncomfortable at first? Or had it just been the stress of the situation? The last thing Marc wanted was to intimidate you in any way—for Steven’s sake, of course. (Maybe all it took was beating the shit out of the man that had dared to lay a single finger to you to win over your trust.)

“It took me a while to realize, and I wasn’t even really sure until now,” you continued at his continued silence, some hesitation creeping into the edges of your smile—more placating than before—as your hand faltered. “Steven’s such a chatterbox, I wondered why he was so quiet this morning. Then you…switched, I guess, and he came out. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, I didn’t mean to be rude at all, if it seemed that way.”

“It didn’t. You just took me off-guard, is all,” he said, reaching out and clasping your hand in his and giving it a firm, singular shake. You visibly brightened, beaming warmly at him. “Not a lot of people bother to remember his name, and I didn’t realize he came here as often as he does.” He realized that he, too, was grinning softly. “He made sure to correct me on that.”

You laughed at that, propping your hands on your hips once he let you go. “I’ll bet he did. I don’t have another regular quite like him.” You tilted your head slightly, eyeing him. “Do you…do you know about our—plans, tomorrow night?”

“I do. He’s been giddy about it all evening.”

Oi! Don’t say it like that—I don’t want to come across as overeager! The last thing I need is her thinkin’ I’m a creep or some—

“I have been, too, to be honest,” you confessed, glancing off to the side. “I, uh…I like him a lot.” You dared to peek back at him. “Are you okay with it, though? I know we just met, and I’m not sure how much Steven’s told you about me, so I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way. Going on a—going out with a stranger doesn’t suit everyone. It certainly doesn’t suit me, so…” You dropped your head with a sigh. “...I’m…going to stop talking now. I’m sorry, I know I talk too much sometimes.”

Marc stared, floundering for words. He hadn’t expected to have his thoughts mirrored back him. He heard car doors slamming shut outside, the hiss and chirp of radios, the chatter of tired policemen who would much prefer to be home sleeping. “...Yeah, sweetheart,” he managed finally. “I’m okay with it…more than okay with it.” He swallowed. “Steven likes you a lot, too.”

Oh, bloody hell, Marc, Steven groaned, muffled. I keep all your secrets zipped up tight and you just go and oust all of mine in one fell swoop.

“He…does?” you breathed, eyes rounding as you looked back up at him. “I…that’s a relief. I wasn’t really sure…” You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “...nevermind.”

As obvious as Steven was, mooning over you like he did, you still weren’t sure about his feelings for you? Marc repressed his chuckle. You two really were perfectly suited, weren’t you?

“I’ll let you guys have your space tomorrow, don’t worry,” he reassured, suspecting that you might have wondered after it—he was uncertain how much Steven had explained about how their co-fronting and rotations worked. “And I don’t think you talk too much.”

“Oh.” Why did you look surprised? (And a little disappointed?) “Thanks.” You hesitated, worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. “Can I…I’d like to get to know you, too, Marc. If that’s—if you’d be okay with that. Steven’s told me some stories about you and you seem like a really good person to be around. And…you know, if I hang out with Steven, I don’t want you to feel excluded or anything. Any friend of his is a friend of mine.” You grinned a little, trying to offer a joke to smooth over your apprehension. “You know. Even if you just so happen to share a body.”

That drew a full laugh out of Marc, then, a deep and genuine one that echoed through the shop. The cops pulled the door open and entered, flicking on their flashlights. “I’d like that, too, sweetheart,” he said with a full smile—one that didn’t feel painfully awkward or forced in the slightest. “Any girl that can knock out a grown man with one hit is one I want on my side.”

Looks like we’ve still got some work to do on gettin’ to know ourselves, too, mate, Steven commented quietly. Marc glanced at him in the display case once more as you moved over to greet the law enforcement. I don’t think we can ignore it anymore.

Steven was right. Even though their instances of mutual blacking out had diminished to episodes counted on one hand after Cairo, Marc knew that the evidence weighed too heavily into the possibility to be shoved in the back of his mind like he’d been guilty of doing.

“I don’t think so, either,” he muttered, staring intently at the double reflection in the heavy glass. Only his own familiar, furrowed brow met his gaze unflinchingly.

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n0v4t33z · 1 year ago

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The Syndicate - Chapter 3: Soft Hearted Criminal

Pairings: Choi San X Female Reader, Park Seonghwa X Female Reader, Ateez X Female Reader

Summary: Y/N is a Detective with a promising future in the police department until she's kidnapped by the infamous mafia boss Choi San and from him, she learns the dark secrets her superior has been hiding the whole time so she teams up with him in order to put a stop to it.

Genre: Lots of angst, Romance, Crime Fiction, Psychological Drama

Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: For Mature Audiences, Language, Graphic Violence, Mentions of Illegal activities (i.e Kidnapping, extortion, assassination etc.), y/n gets roughed up by Wooyoung like twice , Slow Burn, Fluff sometimes, Work In Progress, Non-Idol AU, Mafia AU, Very suggestive at times, y/n cries alot, y/n having inner turmoil, Ateez being bad boys, Wooyoung and Yeosang are a little mean in this story tbh, Guns, Gunshot wounds, Assassination attempt(s) ,mentions death and acts of violence

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Spotify Playlist🎵 | Series Masterlist📝

Author's Note 💌 : I was supposed to post this in the beginning of August but I ended up getting a little impatient so I'm posting it now lol so I hope you guys enjoy this chapter despite how slow it is, I promise the really good chapters are coming soon! -N

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The next day after mindlessly sitting there bored out of my mind I hear a light knock on the door only to see Seonghwa quietly opening the door. He gives me a small smile and mouths the words “Hey” Funnily enough I’m happy to see a criminal keep his word and not lie for once but it also doesn’t mean that I’m completely fond of the guy. Although I guess I can say so far from what he’s shown me I can mildly trust him enough to want to see him again just so I don’t get bored. “You kept your promise..” He presses his finger on his lips and says in a low voice “I told you I’d be back. I came here for a bit because I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I dryly laugh “Oh wow I- Yeah. I’m alright, a bit sore but I’m fine.” He looks at the ground for a few seconds then his gaze meets mine with a small friendly smile “So I brought you a book, I don’t know if you like to read or not but I thought maybe you’d want something to read while you’re here.” He reaches into his jacket and hands me a book, the title being “Dracula”. A smile grows onto my features admiring the cover of the book and back at Seonghwa “Thank you, I was being driven insane in here not having anything to do.” He lowers his voice “When you’re done just let me know and I can bring you another one.” He glances down at his phone looking at the time then he looks back at me slightly disappointed “I have to go now, I’m sorry it was too fast. Maybe next time I’ll be here a little while longer I don’t want San to-” There's a sudden knock at the door in which Seonghwa and I look at each other in shock. “Detective-” San enters the room and looks at both of us then back at Seonghwa “Uh? Aren’t you supposed to be out?” Seonghwa hurriedly gets up “Oh yes, my apologies I was just here dropping a book off for the Detective. She seemed bored so I thought maybe she’d like something to read.” He hums and walks over towards Seonghwa gently patting his shoulder “Make sure not to forget about the other person I told you about.” San glances at Seonghwa with a knowing glance. What was that about? Then again I don’t expect them to tell me anything, I am the prisoner here anyway. Seonghwa gets up and nods “No worries I haven’t forgotten I’ll let you know what I find..” Seonghwa looks at me with a half smile and exits the room leaving San and I alone.

“Good afternoon Detective, are you doing okay?” I shrug “I guess, I’m just sore. Jongho came by earlier this morning to give me some pain killers so I’m okay right now.” San fixes one of his rolled up sleeves. “That’s great to hear that you’re being taken care of.“ I stare at my lap not wanting to meet San’s eyes “It would be nicer if I could be let go.” San chuckles “Sorry Detective, but I can’t. Not until that issue with your superior is fixed” Of course he can’t, his revenge is his priority. “So you’re forcing me to stay just because you say so? What? Do you want me to get to know you or something too?” He shrugs “I don’t know about that, but if I'm being honest I think you know far more about me than I even know about myself.” I scoff ”That’s not true.” San lifts my chin up and looks me in the eye walking up dangerously close in front of me “You think I didn’t read all your reports and the file you have on me? You specifically stated my height and the previous homes that my family and I have lived in, including the ones before my dad became wealthy. Not many people know about my childhood home, the very detailed reports on the crime scenes I’ve been involved in just tells me that you dedicated most of your time investigating me.” Okay, I have a hard copy of his file on hand but I totally forgot I also have one in the database too just in case. Fuck, so that’s how he read it. I turn my face away and grumble ”I’m just doing my job, it’s not because you’re interesting or anything.” He chuckles “i see, well your obsession with me says otherwise.” I snap my head in his direction and raise my eyebrow “Excuse me? My only obsession is to put you in jail.” He smiles and leans in a few inches away from me “If you think you can do it, go for it. From where you’re sitting though I’d like to see you try.” I glare at him and swing my handcuffed fists at him, and without any struggle he catches my fists in mid air with his hand “If you want to hurt me you might want to be a little faster than that.” His gaze going from an amused one to a darker expression. Did I really forget who this man is? Choi San, the man wrecking havoc not only here in Ulwood but in my life as of now. The man who gets to choose what my fate is and here I am trying to hit him. So smart y/n.

I nervously swallow and lower my fists onto my lap “I-I’m sorry.” He lets out an exasperated sigh and runs his hand through his dark hair “How about we start over?” I awkwardly force a smile “Oh, uh okay.” What is wrong with me?! If I piss him off the only way I'm getting out of here is dead. “That doesn’t mean to be awkward, just be yourself.” How am I supposed to be myself when I’m literally in fear of whether or not he’s going to do something to me? Gosh, I’m going to have to just play along. I awkwardly lean back onto the headboard behind me “Fine. Why are you getting so comfortable?” San sits next to me and gives me a dimpled smile “Why not?” I nervously laugh “I mean I’m sorry but seeing you get so comfortable on my bed is just off putting.” I fidget with the chain on my handcuffs feeling the coolness of the metal between my fingers. San responds “You’re right, I guess it is kind of weird for a cop to see the criminal they’re after’s humanity.” The humanity in San? You’d think the man lost that long ago seeing his file. “Yeah, but I guess we can both learn from each other.” I force a smile and continue “So, um, What about your role model? Do you have one?” He glances at me amusingly “Wow detective these questions- Do you usually talk to people like this or?” Unable to cross my arms because of the handcuffs I roll my eyes “You literally kidnapped me, how am I supposed to talk to you like I'm not your whole ass prisoner?” San scoots closer towards me “I make you nervous don’t I?” There he goes again acting like that. “What? No, you just annoy me.” He looks deep into my eyes smirking, my ears and cheeks feeling very warm “ Hm, I don’t? Then why are your cheeks bright red?” He asks with a hint of playfulness in his voice. I thickly swallow and shake my head “No reason, it’s just really warm in here.” He chuckles “Oh, is it?”

He reaches over and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear “You’re very pretty Detective.” His cat like eyes turn into crescents when he smiles causing my heart to begin to race “Thank you” I respond trying to pass off unaffected by his charm but utterly failing. He gently brushes his fingers against the bruise left on my cheek making me slightly pull away. He gives me a slightly sad expression and sighs “I wish things would have turned out different and I didn’t have to resort to this type of thing.” Nervously I reach over to gently set my hand on his forearm, as annoying as he is now's my chance. “You know you can stop this right? Just let me go and I will see everything you need to be taken care of will happen, I’ll make sure to have the charges against you dropped.” He looks down at my hand holding his arm then looks back at me “No, I just wish it wasn’t you who has to go through this but unfortunately your partner wasn’t enough to bring Lee's attention or it would have been him who would have been taken.” I blink slightly taken aback and he continues “So, I’m sorry Detective. I just have to do this for my father because as an answer to your question from earlier, my father is my role model.. I know he probably wouldn’t have agreed with how I’m handling it but to me it’s what makes sense considering that bastard’s lack of loyalty towards my father. ” He’s crazy, but unfortunately I understand where he’s coming from. “I get it, but don’t you think he’ll be humiliated even more if he gets arrested? I’d like to add that in prison he’ll be a constant target because he’s a former cop.” San smiles “I’ll think about it” He’s lying, he’s just trying to change the subject.

“You know, I don’t know you on a personal level despite how much I know about you on file but what I do know is right now your hand is being forced. I know you don’t want to do any of this.” Maybe playing good cop as much as I can will help. He looks at the ground almost like he’s lost in thought “Yeah, something like that but not quite.” I lean in a little closer in hopes he hears me a little better “So tell me, is the Choi San you show the world the same one at home with his family, or is he different?” He glances up at me meeting my eyes “Actually, he’s different. I’ll go as far to admit that I have several versions of myself. How the world around me sees me, how my family and those closest to me see me, and lastly how I truly am.” I’m not surprised but that’s honestly sad. He probably had big shoes to fill when he took over for his father. “I see, so who is the true Choi San then? Is he kind?” Let’s see if I can get him to open up a little more. He nods “He is actually. I’m just normal, I’m nothing special. I only took over because I had to, Wooyoung suggested it would be good for my character since he thought I was too nice sometimes. Unfortunately after I took over I was not only under my family’s pressure but also under our allies’ pressure to continue to be just as equally harsh if not more than my father. I knew from the moment I took over that handling things peacefully was no longer an option out fear that my lack of experience would make them think they could just walk all over me.” I can tell he’s holding back, he doesn’t want to just say it. I can see why it would be hard for him to admit. “So what you’re saying is that the reason your crimes are so violent and harsh is because you’re under inmense pressure by the people who surround you to be more like your father, not because you want to right?” Gosh, I just feel so bad for him. That must be a heavy burden to carry all by himself. “Yes, kind of.” I press my lips into a smile “Well, just know you can always talk to me as long as I’m here. I’ll listen to you, I know it seems ironic with me being a cop and all but I guess since I’m here it doesn’t really count since I can’t really do anything..” He reaches over and removes my handcuffs “You’re right, you’re just a normal girl behind that detective facade you put up.” I get up and stretch my arms and legs “And you’re a regular guy hiding behind the mask of an evil mafia kingpin” He smirks “You’re very poetic Detective.”

He reaches over for my hand and pulls me to sit down again only he doesn’t let go of my hand and just holds it “You know, I don’t think I was supposed to you all of that.” I shake my head “Don’t worry, I’m not going to use anything against you if that’s what you’re thinking.” He lets go of my hand and slightly narrows his eyes “Okay, so how do you do it?” I furrow my brows “Uh, what do you mean? Do what?” Is he catching on? Oh gosh “You know, get people to feel so comfortable around you. Is that a cop technique or something?” It's not what I thought he was going to ask but what a relief. “Honestly I just treat people like humans, that’s it there's really no trick there.” From the corner of my eyes I notice him intently watching me and as much as I don't want to admit this, looking at his general direction is making me really shy, I feel like I shouldn't be looking at him "You are very sweet considering the type of situation you're in." I dryly laugh "You know being mean won't do me any favors and the last thing I want is for me to have to deal with Wooyoung or worse, a pissed off San. So I'd rather not." He chuckles, why is he looking at me like that? He's supposed to be my enemy why is it making me feel this way. “ Didn't you just now try to beat me with your fists and you say I'm the scary one?" I roll my eyes playfully while gently patting his shoulder "Yeah, well I'm not the criminal here sir." He blinks " What? So am I really that scary?” I nod letting out a nervous laugh “Yeah, most of my colleagues would always tell me how they’d be terrified if they ever had to face you.” San’s tongue touches the inside of his cheek looking a bit satisfied “Ah, so does that include you?” I press my lips into a straight line and I shrug “As long as you’re not pissed.” He gives me a dimpled smile and reaches over to pat my head “You don’t need to worry about that then, I really like talking to you so I doubt you’ll ever piss me off enough for me to react like that.” So as long as I’m good or Captain Lee doesn’t fuck everything up then I should be good. Stay on his good side. He lays down patting next to him “Lay with me” I thickly swallow “Um, may I ask why?” He pulls my hand enough to lay me down next to him “No reason, I’ve just heard people have really nice conversations like this.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye “I promise nothing will happen, I won’t touch you if that’s what you’re wondering. I just want to be San for a bit and have a conversation with someone.” I nod “Okay, fair enough” I lay back and turn to him only to realize he was already looking at me a little different than when we first met. Almost like his gaze soften up. I’m hoping being nice to him keeps me in good graces with him so that I can eventually leave this place.

So I think it’s been a month or so since at this point I’ve lost my sense of time. San, Jongho, and Seonghwa are mostly the people I talk to, especially San. He comes in at least a few times everyday to talk and hang out. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that some dark twisted part of me actually thinks he’s kind of cute or at least his more human side of him. Everyone else still kind of scares me especially Wooyoung so I barely say anything to the rest of them and usually staying silent when they enter the room. I'd also be lying if I didn't admit San and I started flirting a little? Okay, more like banter but it leads to the same thing, feelings. Although I'm still not sure if he actually means it or if he's just messing with me to get me to open up. Knowing him, I won't be surprised if he pulls a fast one on me because of his reputation and is just messing with me because he thinks it's a joke.

I sit in bed and I look at the empty dark gray wall grumbling under my breath “I have no idea what’s happening, I just want to leave. It’s been like a month and I already feel like I'm losing it being stuck in here.” I hug myself and bury my face in my knees and I silently begin to tear up from the overwhelming feeling of being homesick. I hate Captain Lee for being so selfish, I’m the one having to go through so much from almost getting my chest caved in to being threatened while he’s back at the station thinking that he’s lucky not having to be in my position and having the whole police force protect him. I really hope he makes the right decision or I won't forgive him for it.

About an hour goes by of me on and off crying ends up with me laying down silently staring at the door until I hear the door unlock. I expected someone else other than San but to my pleasant surprise it was him. Right as he comes in I notice how eerily silent he was, did something happen? HE 's acting quite different than normal. He sets down the food and sits next to me “Hey, I talked to Lee on the phone earlier but I have bad news.” He uncuffs me and holds both my hands giving me an expression with sadness in his eyes, seeing his face like that made my stomach drop. This is not going to be good. He lets out a long sigh and says “He isn’t going to expose himself and he’d rather have you turn up dead than renounce.” I feel nauseous.

I fucking knew it. I ball up my fists and instantaneously my eyes well up with tears making my vision blurry. I get up beginning to pace back and forth, my body feeling like I needed to walk out the anxiousness and anger “That fucking bastard… Now I have to die all because he wants to keep his dirty work under wraps.” I slam my fists onto the surprisingly hard wall completely ignoring the wave of pain going through my hands and wrists. “He fucking promised to get me out of here!!” I turn my back to the wall and slowly fall to the floor crying my eyes out. San walks over to me and sits on the floor next to me and holds my hand gently stroking my shoulder "Look, you’re not going to die." He pauses for a bit almost like he was gathering his thoughts a little. "We’ll make him think you are but you’ll be okay I promise.” I look at San with my eyes still glistening from my tears “What caused you to change your mind about me dying?” He shrugs then lifts up my hand up to his lips and gently kisses my hand. “ Well I was never intending to kill you. I was thinking and I came to the conclusion that yes, I could have easily killed you but those eyes of yours-" He pauses again almost like he was psyching himself up to finish the sentence he started "Those eyes, they made me so weak that evreytime you look at me it makes me really nervous. Almost like if I couldn’t see them anymore I wouldn’t forgive myself." He reaches over and gently squeezes my thigh "Besides, every time I’d come over and hang out with you I'd leave feeling so happy. So happy, that for those few hours I'm with you everything seems perfect.”

My heart isn’t beating faster, my heart isn’t beating faster, I swear it isn’t, I need to get ahold of myself. I look over at his perfectly chiseled face and I notice something I never really did before and it was that gaze that gave away exactly how he felt, the way his gaze lovingly connected to mine without hesitation made my heart race like I ran a marathon. I wrap any arms around San’s waist while I rest my head on his chest “Thank you, I promise to help avenge your father’s death and I'll also make sure to give you back what belongs to you. I owe you.” He looks down at me, pushes a few strands of hair behind my ear and gently strokes my cheek “No, you don’t owe me anything. The last thing I want is for you to think you do. I just don't want you to get hurt because of me.” I shake my head and I grab San’s hand “Look, I was wrong about you. I admit in the beginning I hated you, then after you told me what happened with your dad I sympathized with you but now that it’s been like a month since I’ve been here and that I've gotten to know you a lot more, I admire you. Even if I’m still scared of the type of job you have I've realized we’re not that different, we both have dangerous jobs and for the both of us we both lost someone due to tragedy. You, your dad and me, my grandfather.” I gently stroke San’s hand with my thumb.

“I know that deep down you’re not evil, you’re just working with what life has given you and I won’t judge you for it. I just want to let you know that I'll be here to help, I won’t just stand here and let Captain Lee get away with everything he’s done and not be punished for his actions. Nothing is going to happen to me, if anything now you’ll have knowledge on the police and their tactics and I know for a fact you won’t turn that down.” I give San a small smile then he looks at me and gently rubs his thumb on my cheek “Hm, you’re right I can’t turn that down but I also have something I want to ask you that I hope you don’t turn down either.” Is he going to let me leave? Maybe he feels bad now? “Yes, of course what is it?” San looks deeply into my eyes for a few seconds without saying anything, and slowly he gently tilts my head to look up at him. “Will you be mine?”

Hey, what? Woah. I mean I like him. But should I do it? Will being with him help me or will it seal my fate? Does that mean I can come and go as I please? Maybe that'll help me be trusted a lot more. It's the only chance I've got now. I nod and gently kiss his hand while I hold his hand onto my face “I would love to.” He slowly leans in to kiss me then he pulls back and gently caresses my bottom lip with his thumb “People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, someone so caring and understanding. So I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have someone like you.” It actually happened. Me, a former detective is now dating the Boss of the mob group I used to investigate. What a weird turn of events. I can't be too vulnerable though, despite how I'm feeling at the moment I have to remember all his crimes and that with one false move I could end up with them, another name added to the list of corpses Choi San has accumulated on his file. So as twisted as this is it may work in my favor so I can escape.

I lovingly stare into his beautiful dark eyes “I honestly never thought we’d end up together either, but here you are confessing to me. It seems so surreal.” For a few minutes we sit there in silence in each other's arms until San’s radio goes off with Yeosang saying “San, Ito’s replacement is here he wants to talk.” He slightly rolls his eyes in frustration and presses the button on his radio and says “I’ll be there in a bit.” He gets up and then helps me up and sits me down on the bed then he says “I have to go, but I trust you okay? No more handcuffs.” He kisses my forehead and walks over to the door closing the door behind him. Once he's gone I look at my hands and smile “I’m free.” The next step is to make Steven Lee regret he ever threw me under the bus like that, my mother and all my loved ones will suffer over the loss of Detective Y/N but it won't be in vain. I’d rather have everyone I love think I’m dead than for them to know and live with the guilt of knowing that I no longer serve The System. Jongho, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and San were right. Criminals do have their own reasons as to why they do the things they do. Sadly the easiest and most satisfying way to solve problems is not always the correct way.

“Hey, angel eyes get dressed you’re going to be properly introduced to everyone, the thing is though they don’t know we’re together yet. We have to wait a little longer for that. I just don’t want them to think anything that’s not true.” He walks up to me and hands me a shopping bag full of clothes. “Don’t worry, I understand. You don’t want them to assume we fucked and that’s why I was left alive.” I get up and I walk towards the bathroom, slightly flustered he pushes his glasses up with his middle finger “Uh yeah, that and I kind of never told them that I wasn't ever planning on killing you mostly because I knew there was going to be issues and no one would want to cooperate properly.” I shrug and open the door to the bathroom “Kinda fucked up but, fair enough.” I wonder how much he keeps from them, how much of a front he puts up around them. It's kind of sad now that I think about it. The poor man can never fully be himself and only carefully curated versions of him to help fit a narrative of his choice.

A few minutes later I step out of the bathroom in an all black ensemble some black jeans, a nice plain black top, a leather jacket, and my black high heeled pumps. “You know I look a little dead with these eye bags under my eyes” San walks up to me pulls me close and gently kisses my forehead “You look beautiful to me, angel eyes." He pushes a few strands of hair behind my ear and continues "Besides meeting the guys today we’re also going to go over how we’re going to help you fake your death.” I fix San’s collar holding back a huge smile. “Alright, sounds like a plan.”

San and I walk down the hallway in to a huge conference room except it was more chaotic, maps, notes, and a bunch of other papers sprawled out across the big table. There were also pictures of dozens of people presumably enemies and other rival mafia members. While I look at the pictures a few in particular catch my eye. That’s me, that’s me leaving the station with Chris a week before I was abducted. They followed me everywhere and I had no idea. How did I not notice? Whoever took those pictures was so close, kind of creepy.

I notice all seven of the members in San’s inner circle were here. I’d be lying if I say I'm not scared, because any screw up and I could seriously end up dead in a trash bin. They're all very intimidating just like San himself. San clears his throat “So, i’m sure you guys know the Detective and I've brought her here today because from now on she’s going to be working for me.” Wooyoung and Yeosang give San a surprised face mixed with disappointment. Wooyoung shifts his gaze towards me and glares at me coldly “Why? We literally kidnapped her a month ago. I don’t even think we should even be trusting a cop especially after what happened.” San raises his hand to quiet down Wooyoung and says “You’re right, but Seonghwa, Jongho, Hongjoong and myself have talked to her and she’s reliable. Not to mention she now has a personal vendetta against Lee, so she’s definitely on our side now.” Mingi then says “Okay, what can she do? How does she serve us any purpose besides a pretty face? I know she’s a cop and all but if I'm being honest cops haven’t been very impressive these days and neither was she when we kidnapped her.” Before San could talk I say “Well, besides a pretty face I was trained in both long and short range shooting, and I have a few access codes and I know my way around the police databases. Oh, and about you being able to abduct me In my defense my little detective brain short circuited.” San looks over at Mingi who looked slightly annoyed at the sarcasm tinged answer “There you go questions answered, anyone else?” Everyone stays silent then San smiles “Alright good, so please treat her well she’s one of us now."

Wooyoung whispers something into Yeosang's ear while San continues "Okay, now we’re going to be discussing how we’re going to fake the Detective’s death.” Hongjoong says “You’re really going the extra mile with that aren’t you? Can't she just pass off as a missing person?” San shakes his head “No, because if she does that the police will still consider her alive thus bringing a lot more attention to her trying to find her and since she works for us now we can’t have that. We need to get a little more creative.” After a few hours of careful and meticulous planning a way to fake my death we come up with a solution but it wasn’t one I was too comfortable with and it was taking someone that closely resembles me, remove any identifying features, burn them until they’re unrecognizable, switch my dental records with the deceased and plant my police badge on the body. Sounds easy but unfortunately I know it's not going to be, for anyone, not for the person in place of me, the Aurora syndicate's goons, and myself included. Being on the dark side of justice is not easy, but I owe San for letting me live and I need to teach Captain Lee a lesson for betraying his oath to protect and serve his department. Not to mention he let one of his own to "die" in order to save himself the embarrassment of having to resign as a traitor. Most call it revenge but I call it making it even.

After the meeting, San goes over to his office to get things in order for the plan leaving me to hang out with Seonghwa at the lounge downstairs. “So, you’re staying here?” Seonghwa asks while he takes a sip of some tea that he prepared. I shrug and cross my arms in front of my chest “Yeah San kind of changed his mind after he told me that Captain Lee was going to refuse to come clean. I felt so hurt that I basically told him that Captain Lee and the department were dead to me.” He slowly stirs his tea then he says “Wow so you’re willing to drop your department just like that? Just so you know you won’t ever have to worry about us betraying you, we’re like a family here. Although it’s still a bit off putting having you not be in total isolation and not being in handcuffs.” I rest my head on the lounge's couch arm rest while drawing shapes on it out of habit " Well yeah, I kind of have to at this point. My decision tells you a lot about me. I drop traitors like that with no remorse.”

Seonghwa and I chuckle until I hear footsteps and notice a tall dark haired male extend his hand in my direction “Hello Detective y/ln, sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Yunho by the way, we didn’t meet properly prior to the meeting earlier but it’s very nice meeting you.” I shake his hand examining the very tall man before me from the meeting earlier but it’s very nice meeting you.” I shake his hand examining the very tall man before me. He definitely didn’t look like the type of person to be involved in things like this so to say that I’m shocked is an understatement. “Thank you, It’s very nice meeting you too.” He pulls up a chair and sits in front us then says “Detective, did you know that you’re all over the news? They still think Lee is trying to find you, I’m sure they haven’t told the press the whole story yet.” Feeling my hands get cold I tuck my hands under my thighs “Yeah, I don't think they ever will but just wait until they find “my dead body” I’m sure Captain Lee is going to make up some stupid excuse as to why I ended up dead” Seonghwa furrows his eyebrows “So are you going to go completely incognito and leave your past life behind?”

I let out a long sigh and look at the fake Monet painting behind Seonghwa, and with an expressionless face I respond “Yeah, I have to. I’d rather have my family think I died not being a horrible person than know I gave in to the temptation of taking matters into my own hands. without the assistance of the law.” Yunho looks at me with a saddened and serious expression clouding over his features “You’re a former cop we all understand, I’m sure your family never expected this from you. Sometimes to protect what we love the most we have to hide the truth.” I lower my gaze and i nod “Yeah, which is also why I think it’s best you guys call me just y/n since I'm no longer a detective.” They both nod then sipping on his tea carefully Seonghwa says “If that makes you comfortable then go ahead. Don’t worry.” He reaches over to me with his free hand and pats my head continuing his thought "It's also really nice just having you with us." Yunho gives me a warm smile and adds onto Seonghwa's sentiment "Thank you for choosing not to go against us, we really do need your kind of help especially with San's goal of getting rid of Lee. It'll be a nightmare that'll soon end." I press my lips into a small smile "Any person who's got the same enemy in common as I is considered an ally in my book despite the initial differences." Seonghwa nods "I'm glad to know we can count on you, despite how some people might feel about it." Is he referring about the rest of the guys? More specifically Wooyoung? "It's fine, I understand where that fear of them trusting a cop comes from. I'll do my best to show them they can trust me." I'll probably look like a fool trying though, they seem like a very tough crowd to please.

Seonghwa, and Yunho decide to take me downstairs to the basement where Hongjoong was, the same place I was taken to talk to Captain Lee. As expected, as soon as he sees Yunho, Seonghwa and I he groans “What are you guys doing here?” Both Yunho and Seonghwa look at each other then Seonghwa replies with “We figured we’d bring Y/N to come help you with the police databases, Me and Yunho were talking to Y/N how it’s nice to have someone so versatile with us.” Hongjoong stares at me for a few seconds then says “Okay fine, but she can’t touch a computer yet until she proves herself.” I smile and raise my right hand and say “I will after my funeral ceremony I promise.” His eyebrow slightly raises and he says “Don’t promise anything, actions speak louder than words.” Seonghwa gently squeezes Hongjoong’s shoulder and says in a low voice “Come on, San doesn’t just trust anyone remember that.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes and groans “Right.” Seonghwa looks over at me and says in a very stern tone “Please, don’t betray our trust.” He then gives me a half hearted smile and leaves with Yunho leaving me with this grouchy computer genius.

Hongjoong pulls a chair over next to him and pats it “Sit, I need you to guide me with some passcodes, just use my laptop at least there I can keep track of everything you do.” He pulls his laptop out of his backpack and passes me a laptop heavily covered in stickers. A small smile grows onto my features “You like Spongebob too huh?” Concentrated into his work and not removing his focused gaze from the screen he says “Huh? Yeah why?" I shrug opening the laptop “Just asking, I like that show too.” Too weary to continue the conversation he says “Cool.” I slightly roll my eyes. Okay Rude. I begin to work on accessing all the police databases and private records. A few minutes later I successfully finish and I tap Hongjoong’s shoulder “I’m done.” He looks at the screen then at me and clicks his tongue “Oh, wow. Thank you Detective.” I smile “No problem, and just call me y/n. I’m technically not a detective anymore.” He smiles and nods “Okay, I’ll keep that noted, do you mind if I see this?” I nod and he takes the laptop from in front of me. For several minutes I see him reading and looking very concentrated reading whatever he searched up. I suddenly hear the door opening and when I look up I realize It’s Mingi and Wooyoung, neither looked too pleased to see me.

I sigh knowing there was a slight tension not just with Wooyoung and Mingi. I tried to not think about that feeling of self awareness that I was in a building full of people who can just as easily take my life just as easily as they spared it. Don’t get me wrong I like San, but no doubt he still scares me when I remember all the crimes he’s committed. The detective in me doesn’t seem to want to die. “We got the girl Hongjoong, is San done?” My stomach drops as soon as I heard Wooyoung say it in such a nonchalant way. I sit there still unable to process the fact that this will be the first crime I’ll be committing not directly but It doesn’t feel right especially knowing an innocent woman has to suffer, but despite that my I still feel very strongly at getting Captain Lee back, not just that but this is the life I willingly accepted when I accepted to be San’s girlfriend and vowed to get back at that old coward even if it's only temporary.

Still preoccupied, Hongjoong shakes his head and says “No, still up there but I’ll tell him when he’s done. You go ahead and handle that woman, keep her quiet.” Wooyoung and Mingi leave their backpacks on the floor then both walk back upstairs while they talk amongst eachother. I really don’t want to know what’s going to happen to that girl before they probably kill her. No doubt she’ll be receiving the same treatment from Wooyoung as I did when I first got here. It luckily ended early but I don't think I would have survived if I had the full experience. Hongjoong nudges my arm and I’m immediately brought back to reality. I turn to him completely playing off that I wasn’t just sitting there in shock “Hey, these files of all the police reports that Lee did back when he started out are behind an access code do you know it? I sit there for a minute trying to remember it then quickly type the access code in the little white box. Once access was granted Hongjoong takes his laptop back and looks like he’s reading through some stuff. The rest of the time I was there I was sorting out all the files we seized from the server with Hongjoong while my brain in the background kept replaying Wooyoung's "little mistake" as he likes to call it. Seeing Wooyoung so nonchalant about this whole situation knowing he's going to kill that poor girl just unsettles me. Reliving every. Single. Blow. Over. And. Over.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

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[Transcript] Season 5, Episode 2. The Acolyte Eulogy

In crushing news, The Acolyte has been unceremoniously cancelled after only one season. The Stereo Geeks present to you their eulogy for this Star Wars show that was arguably their favourite in the live-action pantheon. But, Ron and Mon don't always agree about what makes the show great.

Listen to the episode on Spotify.

Ron: Hello and welcome to a new episode of Stereo Geeks.

Mon: Today’s episode is a eulogy to the short-lived Star Wars show, The Acolyte.

Ron: We barely knew you! But we will never forget you. I’m Ron.

Mon: And, I’m Mon.

Ron: I’m going to start us off by saying that I’m really angry The Acolyte has been canceled. I’m upset, yes, but I’m mostly furious. This show deserved a second season. People of colour and women deserve to see more entertainment that centres them.

Mon: I don’t know how to feel, to be honest. I feel like we’ve been robbed of a show that’s so smart and so achingly clever, as well as being effortlessly diverse. But, I had my reservations about a second season – I definitely wanted the show to continue, but I had mixed feelings because my favourite characters would likely not be there.

Ron: Am I the only one on this planet who straight up didn’t notice that the show was “diverse”? I just saw a show with interesting characters.

Mon: I didn’t think about the diversity either, especially not while watching it. But I couldn’t not notice it when I began writing my review for WWAC, which will be out soon.

Ron: The diversity is impressive! The only people who could have a problem with it are problematic, narrow-minded morons. But more on that later.

Ron: You've mentioned that you weren’t sure about a season two. A lot of amazing characters were lost in season one, but I honestly think another season would have given us even more Jedi to love.

Mon: That’s a positive way to look at things. I guess I really miss the characters, so I am not ready to move on from them. But I know I would have had we got another season.

Mon: We’re going to head into spoiler territory right now, so if you haven’t seen the show, this is it, this is your chance.

Plot

Ron: By now, most people probably know the story. I’ll share my first impressions. I was hooked from the opening scene. Carrie Anne Moss as Jedi Master Indara exemplified cool. She is completely at ease against her unknown assailant, dodging every move, predicting the next step. It’s only when she sees who the assailant is that she’s stumped and that’s the end of her.

The rest of the premiere follows the Jedi as they try to uncover the truth behind Master Indara’s murder. A Jedi murder mystery. How absolutely amazing is that? I was in love.

Ron: I will say that the entire show wasn’t a Jedi murder mystery. But that wasn’t a bad thing. The Acolyte introduced a ton of lore and built so much more of the Star Wars universe. We got to see the Witches, progenitors of the Night Sisters. The power of two theory plays a huge part in this story, and we’ve seen how Force dyads work throughout the films.

Mon: It took me a minute to warm to the show, mostly because the first episode is one of the weakest, directorially speaking. It’s not paced well, and it promises a setup that it abandons pretty quickly. The story that it abandons the mystery for is really gripping, but I wouldn’t have minded a murder mystery.

Ron: That’s so bonkers that the first episode felt weak to you. I was enraptured!

Mon: Wow. We’re usually of the same mind. This is so weird.

Ron: And, I actually do think the murder mystery angle paid off. But the show takes a very long-winded way to solve the mystery, and along with it, we get this whole other story about a Sith lord looking for an acolyte.

Mon: Yeah, that makes sense. Things picked up from the second episode, which is really well done barring the final duel, which again, isn’t well-paced.

Ron: Wait a second. Why didn’t the episode two duel work for you?

Mon: The duel says a lot about the characters, but it lacks an urgency that the story suggests should be there.

Ron: Perhaps I was so taken with the show, the pacing didn’t bother me. I liked that the pacing gave us time to observe and feel the moment.

Mon: So, it’s funny, but, the pacing really bothered me when I first watched it, but the issue was practically non-existent when I rewatched it. This show, and I don’t really know whom to blame, is not made for a weekly rollout; it’s made for a marathon-watch. The structure of the story doesn’t take the ebbs and flows of weekly viewing into account. If you’re on a high from the previous week, you’re going to need something mind-blowing the week after. That’s not how The Acolyte was made, which, I think, may have worked against it. But, when you watch it as a whole, I swear, this is the best thing I have ever watched!

Ron: Fascinating! I do feel like a lot of TV shows are crafted like that. Or, rather, they’re designed as a film that’s cut up into shorter episodes. Hence they make for better marathon viewing and you get episodes where seemingly nothing happens. I didn’t mind, but the crybabies on the internet couldn’t handle it.

Mon: Well, Disney is obsessed with tv shows being one long movie, so the pacing goes awry when you make it that way and then cut it up for a weekly feed. That being said though, even in the episodes of The Acolyte where nothing happens, so much happens. It’s outstanding. The writing on this show is unbelievably good.

Ron: It doesn’t help that people have no patience and get annoyed with a show because they have to wait a week or more to get their answers. An episode like “Teach/Corrupt” feels meaningless to certain viewers but it’s actually packed with character dynamics that set up the remainder of the plot. But you’ve got to have at least a modicum of intelligence to understand that.

Mon: You’re not wrong. How dumb are people that they don’t realize the answers to their questions will arrive in the next episode. This show brought out the worst in people.

Ron: For me, The Acolyte captured that feeling of watching WandaVision. So many mysteries to solve. So many Easter eggs to find. We’d watch the episode and go online and people would be losing their minds at the newest reveals or a shocking death. That’s what television is all about.

Mon: The intricate details of this show – not taking into account the Easter eggs and references – are so brilliant. The way the clues to the story are littered throughout the show, and how someone is reacting or doing something plays out is really extraordinary.

Ron: Exactly! Everything matters in this show. The way Sol looks at something. The confusion on Yord’s face. Vernestra not reacting to information. It all matters in the end. But you’ve gotta watch the damn thing for answers!

Fan Reaction

Ron: So, I guess we might as well get the horrid part out of the way. The so-called fan reaction to the show.

Mon: There’s no such thing as a Star Wars fan. They’re just bigoted, racist, sexist AHs. I cannot stand the discourse around anything to do with Star Wars. You and I love Star Wars, but there’s no point in calling ourselves fans, because that is the most toxic group of disgusting luddites that anyone can encounter.

Mon: I cannot, for the life of me, understand the blatant hate for this show from the first episode onwards. It makes no sense other than the obvious – which is misogyny. It makes me want to scream. Yes, The Acolyte has issues, but this is the best Star Wars live-action show out there, it’s better than Andor, a show that everyone loves, but one I felt really underserved its protagonist, who happens to be Mexican.

Ron: It’s racism and misogyny. We see it over and over again and it’s unbearable. For us to see a Star Wars show full of people of colour and women. We feel seen for the first time. But despite there being a plethora of tv shows and films with white men in the lead, the fact that there is one show with people of colour evinces this much hate.

Mon: But this hate is causing real damage – we are constantly losing entertainment where the story doesn’t focus on cis white able-bodied dudes. We’re stuck in a cycle that will not be broken because the biggest entertainment companies in the world, like Disney and Warner Bros., will cave to the stupidest common denominator. I just can’t….

Characters

Ron: Enough about those awful excuses for humanity. The Acolyte was filled to the brim with characters that I instantly fell in love with. I want to talk about everyone!

Mon: I wasn’t sure what we were getting into with these characters, but they piqued our interest with little hints to their personalities and their histories. And the writing was well-matched with a lot of great performances that got us invested in these characters.

Ron: Yord-Horde, what’s up! The instantaneous love for Charlie Barnett’s Yord Fandar gave me life. This Jedi Knight is such a stickler for the rules, he even steams his Jedi robes. What is not to love? I appreciate how quick Disney was to share BTS videos of Barnett talking about Yord and his goofiness. They really made us fall in love with Yord.

Mon: Love Yord. He’s certainly a stickler for rules, and that makes him seem boring, but he gets the job done. On the rewatch, I realized he has a chip on his shoulder – it seems that he hasn’t conquered his fears yet, and the other characters remark on that. It’s the layers to this character that really leave us wanting more.

Ron: I missed that about Yord’s fear. A Jedi whose afraid? Dang, no wonder he’s so stuck up.

Ron: The character who stole my heart was Jecki Lon, played by Dafne Keen. I was excited to see her again after her incredible breakout role as Laura Kinney in Logan. And she was excellent on His Dark Materials. But Jecki is just a sarcastic ray of sunshine in this show. Every scene, she’s a delight to watch. She’s so mean to Yord, and their relationship was hilarious to watch. But she’s got a soft side to her. The way she talked about becoming one with the Force, it was so wise and comforting. And those lightsaber moves! We’ll talk about the duels in a bit.

Mon: I love Jecki! She’s snarky, but she’s so kind to Osha. I was certain they were setting up a romance between Jecki and Osha – those two had amazing chemistry, and like… Osha takes the time to watch Jecki train before saying goodbye. So adorable!

Ron: I would have loved a romance between Jecki and Osha. The chemistry was palpable.

Mon: And Jecki had the best fight scenes. That energy, those smarts. I could have watched Jecki in combat forever!

Ron: We have to talk about Osha. And Mae, of course. You go first because I believe we’re going to disagree.

Mon: So… I really struggled with Amandla Stenberg’s performances as Osha and Mae. I felt they were unable to bring any emotion or expression to their characters, and that left me unable to understand who these characters were or how they actually felt.

Ron: Okay. We’re going to disagree. Do you remember when Arrow Season 1 was out? Everyone went after Stephen Amell because his Oliver Queen was too wooden. And I never felt that because I understood why Ollie lacked emotion.

Mon: Should have known you’d bring that up. I never had an issue with Amell’s performance in Season 1 of Arrow, because it was obvious he was restrained and, honestly, just didn’t know how to fit back into his old life. But that’s the key – it was intentional, or at least came across that way. Here, with Stenberg, I think they’re going for restrained, but they’re all over the place, and they don’t react to anything that’s happening to them.

Ron: That’s exactly it though. I think Stenberg’s performances are intentional. They’re a huge Star Wars fan and they’ve particularly shared a long-standing fondness for Anakin Skywalker. I believe Stenberg knew when to emote and when not to. It was subtle but there is a very distinct change in physicality between Osha and Mae. I was so impressed by it because the first time we meet Osha, it’s just after Mae’s murdered Master Indara. And I immediately knew this was a different person than the murderer. Osha holds herself so differently than Mae does.

Mon: We’re going to have to agree to disagree here, because I felt that they missed the mark. I’ve watched the show twice now, and they don’t convey their characters’ emotions at all.

Ron: Oh no. I don’t want us to disagree! I really freaking loved Stenberg’s performances. Osha’s far more emotive than Mae is but she’s got that restraint that comes with Jedi training. But Mae’s primary emotion is anger so we don’t get to see her emote anything else.

Mon: Wow! How am I missing this? What is happening? There is a divergence in the Force and it ain’t good!

Ron: Hahahahaha. I think it becomes even more clear as we’re getting to the end of the show. When Osha and Mae switch places, by that point, they’re both questioning their past and their understanding of what happened. And the physicality starts to change but also the way they express themselves. By the final scene, Mae is relaxed and emotional, and she’s crying. But Osha is holding herself up and taut, refusing to let her emotions slip out. It’s like she’s unburdened her lightness into Mae and taken the dark side on. It’s so clever! But perhaps it was just too subtle?

Mon: Subtlety is not lost on me. I just don’t think they did a good job. But you know who did? Lee Jung-jae!

Ron: I think Master Sol, played by Lee Jung-jae, might be one of my favourite characters in all of Star Wars. In just 8 episodes, we got to see this extremely nuanced, flawed, deeply empathetic Jedi master who did something very wrong with the very best of intentions. The kindness on his face when he sees his padawan, Osha, I knew right then that I was going to love this character. He brought the serenity that we associate with Qui-Gon Jinn but with the pathos of Anakin Skywalker. Even knowing what he did, and it’s unforgivable, absolutely, I still love this character. He had an incredible arc. That final scene, when Osha is force choking him and he lets her, he accepts his fate, it was so emotional and moving.

Ron: Lee Jung-jae was phenomenal in this role. He learned English in just four months so he could play this character. To emote so beautifully and effectively in a foreign language. You can see how much he loves this universe!

Mon: Lee Jung-jae is so amazing that words cannot describe how wonderful he is in this role. He carries so much knowledge about his character’s past, present and future in his expressions from the very first episode onwards. It’s honestly mind-boggling. Sol in the first two episodes is written and performed to make you fall in love with him. He is a master like no other. He is a person so kind, so caring, it’s like, why can’t we have such loveliness in our real world?

Mon: And then the other Mynock drops, and you learn the truth about Sol.

Ron: There was so much foreshadowing! But I still hoped the truth wouldn’t be as bad. It was worse.

Ron: There are a lot of people who were upset that their new favourite character turned out to be a bad guy. But I think that’s a reductive reading of Sol. Everything he does in the present is to make up for his mistakes in the past on Brendok. He’s constantly working to redeem himself, and that’s what makes him a Jedi, not a Sith. I mean, Anakin Skywalker murdered Sandpeople and Jedi younglings and he still got redeemed.

Mon: What Sol did was wrong, but only because we saw the story from his victims’ points of view first. If we were following the Sandpeople, Anakin is probably the boogie man they tell their kids about all the time. But that’s not the angle we got; with Sol, Indara, et all, creator Leslye Headlund, intentionally wanted to give us a different point of view from the Jedi’s.

Ron: What a clever story decision. To show us the Witches’ way of life, the love that Aniseya has for her daughters and then to show us what the Jedi did to them.

Mon: Over at Soundsphere, I wrote about how the show challenges how we perceive the Jedi, but it doesn’t change our knowledge of them. It’s bizarre that so many people took umbrage to how The Acolyte depicted the workings of the Jedi, when we’ve witnessed, several times, that they have been taking Force-sensitive children away from their families forever, that they have an almost cult-like need for their followers to stay in line, or else they’re seen as a problem. The Jedi are hardly perfect, but while genocide isn’t in their mandate, it’s not like they’re not known to commit atrocities – either as part of the Clone Wars, or when their people go rogue, like Anakin did with the Sandpeople.

Lightsaber duels

Ron: Unfortunately true. The Jedi are only the heroes of their own stories. But we can all agree that the coolest thing about the Jedi are their lightsabers, right? And that The Acolyte had the best lightsaber duels since the prequels. The energy, the speed, the range of techniques, the ferocity. This is lightsaber duelling!

Ron: Look, I know a lot of Star Wars fans want to move away from the Jedi. We got nine films in the Skywalker trilogy. It’s a bit weird for the fate of an entire galaxy to be tied to one dynasty, whether they’re blood-related or not. Which is why people wanted to move away from lightsaber-wielding Force-users. Then you get films like Rogue One which are mind-blowingly relatable, political and impactful, and there’s not a Jedi in sight. The Mandalorian and Andor also didn’t have Jedi in them – that’s changed for Mando, of course.

But I don’t think the problem is seeing more Jedi. We just need different Jedi, different eras. That’s exactly what The Acolyte gets right. We go a century into the past, the High Republic era, the Jedi reign supreme, no Sith in sight. And bam, now you’ve got Jedi at the top of their game, with skill levels that wowed us during the prequels.

Mon: People are never happy. Lightsaber duels are the best – when done well. We need more! I would love to see more Jedi. And we need a variety of personalities, like we had on The Acolyte. They can be a cult of emotionless monks, and still be interesting. Three trilogies and a bunch of animated shows already proved that was possible.

Ron: What more proof do people need? But the lightsaber duels in this show are truly to die for. See what I did there? Maybe the fight between Sol and Mae wasn’t as well-paced, but when the Jedi go up against the Stranger? That’s edge-of-your-seat stuff. Jecki’s moves, her quick-thinking. You just know she would have risen up the ranks of the Jedi in no time had her life not been cut short.

Mon: Episode 5 is when I sat up and took notice of this show. I was like, okay, these people are not messing around. They’re doing something different here. They’re making an entire episode one long fight scene. They’re not scared to kill off our main heroes. They mean business!

Ron: What really impressed me is that Star Wars is over fifty years old. And yet, we get The Stranger, with his creepy-as-hell mask, made of Cortosis that shorts out lightsabers, and his moves are unlike anything the Jedi have ever seen. Considering this is the High Republic era where the Sith are basically unheard of, the Jedi must have felt like they were meeting a nightmare.

Mon: Sol even says to the Stranger that you’re using a Jedi weapon but you’re not a Jedi. These are Jedi who’ve mostly known peace, a killer like the Stranger is unfathomable to them.

Ron: I got chills when Sol said that! And it got me thinking about something. We as the audience know about the Sith, but the Jedi in the show don’t. It’s really difficult to keep up the suspense and the stakes when the audience knows more than the characters. I spoke about this in a previous episode of Stereo Geeks about Dark Matter, the Apple TV show. There’s a reveal to the audience in the first episode that the characters take up to episode three to work out and it was painful to watch. The Acolyte worked from the same playbook but managed to ramp up the tension and build an atmosphere of fear for its protagonists. We keep saying it but this show is so clever. By the way, Dark Matter has been given a second season. But not The Acolyte.

Mon: Where’s the justice!

Twists

Ron: Speaking of the Stranger, what was a bigger twist? That Qimir was the Stranger? Or that he killed the wonderful Jecki Lon?

Mon: Jecki being killed was a bummer for me, so not much of a twist. But Qimir being the Stranger was like whaaaat! And it was so freaking clever, because I remember, we were watching the episode the first time, and I had just asked you if Qimir was still stuck hanging upside down and then pow, he’s the Stranger. I thought to myself, no way!

Mon: Part of me was like, but of course! Why would they cast Manny Jacinto and give him the role of a smarmy supplier? I mean, that can’t be it! Give me a break. They were smart. I didn’t see it coming though. My jaw dropped!

Ron: But Star Wars has cast big names in tiny roles before. Poe Dameron was going to die after two scenes until JJ Abrams realised he was too hot to die.

Mon: Wait, is that true about Oscar? He was too hot to die? Because he totally was.

Ron: Okay, so I may be embellishing a bit. But that’s totally what happened. Too hot to die. Yord, sadly, did not get that same treatment.

Mon: I feel you. Yeah, I do wish Yord and Jecki and Sol and Indara had survived. I love these guys so much. Yord and Jecki live on in a YA book. Indara too. Not sure when we’ll see Sol again.

Ron: After they killed Jecki, I thought to myself, you’re going to let Yord live, surely? We deserve one of them to live. But nope! Yord’s neck saw the wrong end of the chiropractor’s twist.

Mon: Funny. That’s Yord humour, I’m sure of it.

Ron: Thank you. I aim to make him proud. Well, Sol doesn’t make it to the end of the season either. He gets killed by Osha. And Vernestra puts the blame on him for everything. The ignominy!

Mon: By the finale I figured that Sol wouldn’t make it. It was the final blow because I somehow still wanted him to. But, again, the showrunners know that you know what’s going to happen, so the finale is not about his death – it’s about us seeing the bleeding of a kyber crystal, and it’s about the Jedi protecting themselves, to such an extent they’ll drag one of their own through the mud. This show is gut-wrenchingly smart.

Ron: Was anybody else squealing when the kyber bleeding happened? Because that was such a cool visual. I’ve always wondered about Sith blades, because I like Sith lightsabers, so this was a spiritual moment for me.

Mon: I did not know seeing a bleeding kyber was something that was so important to me, but apparently it was. Apparently, a stolen Jedi weapon is the only way a Sith can own a lightsaber – they must bleed the stolen kyber crystal to wield it.

Ron: Ooooh, I love these details!

Ron: I will say, I really wanted Sol to live. Not just because he’s my new favourite character but also because I wanted to see him pay for his crimes. That would have been interesting to see. What does Jedi justice look like? Because in all of Star Wars, we’ve seen a lot of justice dispensed via lightsabers.

Mon: That’s such a good point. I agree.

Score and song

Ron: We do mention this a lot but we love listening to film and TV scores. I couldn’t wait to dig into The Acolyte’s score. Mostly because that Power of Two song by Victoria Monét was stellar!

Mon: I love that Power of Two song. When I did my rewatch, that was the one post-credits episode that I watched all the way through so I could listen to the full song. I need to add it to all my playlists.

Mon: I haven’t heard the score. Just a tune here and there. Is it good?

Ron: The Power of Two is such an addictive song. But the score itself is lovely. There are some throwbacks to familiar Star Wars tunes but for the most part, Michael Abels has constructed a new score. Part one of the score, episodes 1-4 had a lot of outstanding pieces. ‘Teacher and Student’, ‘An Acolyte’, obviously, ‘Combat in the Courtyard’, and my favourite is ‘Under the Bunta Tree’. I can’t wait for you to listen to this score!

Mon: I’ll give it a listen soon.

Cancellation

Ron: Obviously we’re upset by the cancellation because it’s a Star Wars show and we love to spend time in that universe. But for me, while I was watching it, I was so amazed that this show with this story and cast of characters existed in my lifetime. That I got to see it unfold every week for eight weeks and share in the joy and surprise of it with you and other fans. The fact that we won’t get another season, and if the loudmouths have their way, anything else like it, is what makes me feel so gutted. Life is tough and entertainment is our only escape. But that escape is being denied to only select groups, while others have so much made just for them. I know I sound bitter, but that’s how I feel right now.

Mon: I feel you. As I said, I wasn’t sure how I’d approach a second season, because I wasn’t all that invested in the characters who were left, but I was dying to get back in this world. I am so annoyed that anything slightly different from the norm gets squashed. And why? Because the loudest idiots don’t know how a weekly television show works and that women and people of colour love and can create art that’s smarter than these loudmouths? Man, I just don’t have the words for this nonsense.

Favourite Moments

Ron: Instead of wallowing in sadness, let’s relive some of our favourite moments from the show.

Mon: Some of my favourite moments… honestly, it’s tough, because there are some detailed hints to what’s happening or going to happen, that take this show to another level. But, a few things I loved were:

Sol in the first two episodes - absolutely the kindest, loveliest human being. He will steal your heart.

The Stranger reveal - devastating as we’re still reeling from the murder of Jecki. And the Stranger’s catty comment about Sol bringing a child to a fight that eventually led to her death, gutwrenching.

The two-part episode directed by Kogonada. It’s divided into episodes 3 and 7, and my word, they are so perfectly directed to give you two completely different storylines. Truly brilliant work.

Ron: I’m not sure if it counts as a favourite moment but it’s the moment I knew this show would be so much better than I had hoped. When Master Indara was killed. I was sorry to see the end of her but her demise signalled that nothing was as it seemed. I knew I was going to love this show from that very moment.

Mon: Fascinating. Expect the unexpected with this one.

Ron: Other favourite moments would be every time Yord and Jecki were in a scene together. You could see how much they hated each other’s guts. Hilarious. That dynamic would have been a joy to see more of. But we are getting a YA novel, which I’m going to nab the moment I see it.

Ron: So, I mean, I don’t mean to be horny on main here, but the Stranger dipping into the pool while Osha is watching. That’s a universal favourite moment, right? I said it so you don’t have to. But we’re all thinking it.

Mon: You’re hilarious. But you’re not wrong.

Ron: Would I be cheating if I said all of the finale? Because the entire finale is a favourite of mine. Every single second is incredible, unexpected, and a gut-punch. Love it to the moon and back.

Mon: That’s high praise coming from you.

Ron: It had everything! Sol’s death, the lightsaber bleeding, the sisters coming together and then deciding to part ways. Vernestra being the worst and putting all the blame on Sol. And we haven’t even mentioned David Harewood’s Senator Rayencourt, who was taking the Jedi to task about their mysterious ways. That scene between the Senator and Vernestra was such an indictment of the Jedi way. I didn’t expect it and I was honestly, blown away by the tension. Also, David Harewood owns every scene he’s in.

Mon: I’m not the biggest fan of Vernestra, but she’s got a good PR brain. Can’t fault that woman’s crisis communications abilities, even if it means throwing her dead friend under the bus.

What we would have loved to see in a season 2

Mon: Had we got a second season, I would have loved to see more of the Jedi. Maybe some actual investigations and mysteries? I would also have loved to see them veer away from a boring hetero romance between the Stranger and Osha – because, I could not see that, they had no chemistry. Plus he’s toxic and she’s lost – we’ve seen this dynamic before, in the Reylo stuff. That’s a no for me.

I think the show would have actually been gay if we’d got a second season, as well. But so much for that.

Ron: A second season would have seen Rayencourt tearing the Jedi to shreds on the senate floor. And then he would mysteriously disappear and it would somehow be Sol’s fault.

Mon: Yes. Yes. I see it.

Ron: Also, Master Yoda would be implicated in the cover-up, which would explain why he’s been straight up lying to the Jedi for another 100 years.

Mon: Can you imagine having to remember this many details for 100 years? I’m pretty sure Yoda just deleted this hiccup in his history.

Ron: Yeah, you’re probably not wrong. 50 years from now he’s like, Vernestra who? What is this Sith you speak of?

Mon: Don’t we know it!

Ron: Okay, I think we lightened the mood, despite the crushing disappointment we feel. I’m going to be happy that we got one season. We got incredible, multi-dimensional characters who made us feel all the emotions and whom we’re going to miss. I can’t remember the last time I fell so instantly in love with new characters. I’m so glad The Acolyte exists and that we got to see it. Bring on the extended universe literature.

Mon: The Acolyte is my favourite live-action Star Wars show, so yeah, this sucks. But at least we have this one season, and hopefully some tie-ins that we can enjoy.

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creative-heart · 7 months ago

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"My thoughts will echo your name"| Esteban Kukuriczka

Chapter four: "No one has to know what we do."

Lucia’s notes: First off, I’m so sorry about last chapter, might have been a bit of a downer, but I trust me, it’s gonna get better soon. We’re back to the usual POV now. BTW the playlist “my hot girl revenge era” really exists on Spotify and it’s amazing.

+18 ONLY: If you’re no interested in reading the smutty part, please stop reading at “Whatever you say babygirl”; you can go back to reading at the next cut.

Playlist:

Bejeweled- Taylor Swift

Wildest dreams- Taylor Swift

Could you love me when I hate myself- Lily McAlpine

Love in the dark- Adele

August- Taylor Swift

Starving- Hailee Steinfeld.

Ready for it- Taylor Swift

Content Warnings: Some not too heavy smut, mainly a makeout session; Social Drinking; mention to smoking.

Word Count: 2.4k

Five days, five whole days had gone by since that night when Y/N had told Lucas to leave the apartment, not one single text or call to check how she was doing, much less him coming home and as much as the hazel eyed woman wanted to pretend like it didn’t hurt her, truth is she had been laying on the couch in her pj’s without moving, just watching Grey’s Anatomy for the fifth time. Y/N was curled up on the couch one evening when she heard the front door but she stayed in the way she was, not enough energy to move to see who it was, coming into her place. “Oh. My. God, babe….nuh, hell no, you need to get your shit together” she heard the voice of her best friend Gabriel coming in from the living room’s threshold as the tall guy made his way to her pulling the blanket off of her and turning the tv off she whined.

“Gabi, nooo. let me, I’m in the best part” Y/N protested pointing at the tv without looking at the arched brow on the black haired guy.

“You know Grey’s by heart, don’t know what this fucker did now, but I’m taking you out, you haven’t answered to my calls or texts in days, come on” as she reluctantly let her friend pick her up from the couch and walk her to the bathroom “also, you smell, and your hair is so greasy I can fry an egg on your head, you’re not this, come on, you take an all in all shower and I’ll make you something to eat, we’re going out tonight bitch” he smiled turning around and going straight to the kitchen after leaving Y/N to stare at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. As she took her image in, she rubbed her face and stepped into the shower letting the steaming water run through her body washing that week off her body, mind and soul; maybe Gabriel was right and going out would be good to her, after all, it was clear that Lucas wasn’t thinking about her, so why should she be sulking over that wanker.

Forty minutes later, she finished blowdrying and styling her hair, her staple beach waves adorning her strawberry blonde locks, she took her makeup bag out and looked at her friend who came into the room with a sandwich just as she said “Alexa, play my hot girl revenge era playlist” as …Ready for it? by Taylor Swift started playing through the speaker Gabriel handed her the plate. “This is my bad bitch bestie!” he smiled turning around to look at the outfit laid out on the bed “damn, red lace top, leather pants and jacket, you going out to eat! I love” Y/N chuckled as she ate her sandwich while doing her makeup. Once they were ready they ordered an Uber and headed out.

“Ok, so…you know how I am obsessed with Andy from La sociedad de la nieve? well, I saw he will be at this club tonight, so, that’s where we’re going, I ain’t asking, just letting ya know mkay?” Y/N chuckled softly nodding knowing that if Andy was there, there was a chance that Esteban would be and she bit the inside of her lip, because why did the thought of kuku being there made her insides flutter and the heat rise in her whole body, she hadn’t told Gabriel about the whole Esteban thing tho, and she decided to keep it that way.

“I’m gonna get so drunk tonight” Y/N chuckled as they got out of the uber before making their way inside with the passes Gabriel had secured for them. As soon as the blonde set foot in the club, she headed to the bar to get herself a drink needing to keep her mind quiet only knowing that way to do it. Y/N rested against the bar looking out into the dancefloor as she downed her mojito, searching for her first victim, determined as she was to two things, get herself drunk, and secure a hot man to make her forget about the fact that the man she had loved for 5 years had all but forgotten about her in the last week. She knew she was the one who had told him to leave, but Y/N never thought he wouldn’t come back after that night, they might be in a horrible spot, but Lucas was still her boyfriend, and in some way she still loved him, or maybe it was just the comfort of knowing what it was like.

As soon as Esteban walked into the club with the guys later that night, he could see Y/N. She was up on a table dancing and immediately a mixture of feelings cursed through his blood. A perfect combination of lust, desire, rage at seeing how the other men around her gawked and touched her legs and protectiveness over the fact that she was clearly intoxicated, the cigarette hanging from her lips quite a sexy sight as she moved to the beat of the music. Without even hesitating about it, he made his way across the dancefloor swiftly, he didn’t give a flying fuck anymore about Lucas, if he wasn’t going to take care of her, he would. When he got up to the table where Y/N was he pushed the men aside and looked at her “Y/N can you please get down from that table?” he held his hand out for her. When Y/N heard that voice over the music she knew exactly who it belonged to, only Esteban’s voice could send a jolt of electricity down her spine straight to her center and she turned around to face him shaking her head moving down just so she was at his level.

“Now…why would I handsome? can’t you see how many gentleman are offering to get me drinks?” she smirked whispering in his ear biting her lower lip as she moved in front of her face stopping just mere inches away from his, staring down into his eyes and kuku swore she could see right into his soul, those Hazel orbs were so deep and entrancing. Before she could get away he picked Y/N up in his arms, his hands resting on the back of her thighs just below her ass cheeks and put her down from the table walking away. “Esteban put me down” the girl said in a tone she hoped to be firm and demanding but that much against her will came out breathy and whiny. Once they were far enough from that table and closer to the rest of the guys the brown eye guy let her down purposefully running his hands up Y/N’s sides which caused a new wave of electricty and goosebumps to course through the younger one’s body.

“Whatever you say babygirl” Esteban said looking straight into Y/N’s eyes his hands resting on the girl’s exposed waist. Her skin is as soft and warm as he had dreamt it would be. His eyes switching between the blonde girl’s eyes and lips as she spoke, not that he could hear what she was really saying all he was really thinking about was how much he wanted to kiss her right now, press her against his body and finally taste her lips. As Y/N kept complaining about what a killjoy he had been for taking her down from the table she found herself quite intoxicated, not only by the booze running thought her bloodstream but also by the taller guy’s perfume flooding her senses, she couldn’t think straight, his hands were still on her waist, her boobs pressed to his chest and she could see how dark his eyes were while looking at her.

Y/N didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that she couldn’t deny anymore how hot Kuku was but she grabbed his shirt in her fists to pull him down to her crushing her lips to his, her eyes fluttered closed and she felt the sigh escape from the eldest lips and she took the chance to deepen the kiss as they started fighting for dominance in the kiss. Esteban’s hands slowly moved around exploring Y/N’s body at the same time as he pulled her closer to him if that was even a possibility, the soft moans escaping the girl’s lips taking his chance to tug on her lip as he pushed her up against a nearby wall her hands wrapping around his neck holding him closer to her as his lips trailed down her jaw to her neck slowly kissing all over, each touch setting a fire on her skin that lingered after he had moved on to the next. When kuku placed a kiss onto the spot right under Y/N’s ear she moaned into his ear closing her eyes as she could feel the smirk on his face right before he bit down on it gently.

Before Y/N could even stop herself she pressed her center to his, eager to feel as much of him as she could without taking their clothes off, but as soon as kuku felt her doing that his hands went back to her hips and he pulled himself apart a bit biting his lip, their breathing heavy and irregular with desire and need. He looked at the girl and leaned in whispering in her ear “as much as this is turning me on, and no matter how much I wanna take you home and fuck you right now, you’re one, quite drunk, and two, still my friend’s girlfriend as far as I know, and no matter how much of a douchebag he may be, I won’t do that” kuku rested his forehead against hers closing his eyes and while Y/N wanted to hit him for cutting of the moment like that, the fact that he was so respectful made whatever she was feeling inside her at the moment for him, grow stronger and she nodded looking at every single one of his freckles.

When Esteban pulled up outside of Y/N’s place he turned around to find her looking at him “wanna come in for a cup of coffee?” she smiled softly, her eyes still slanted from the alcohol pumping through her “I swear I won’t try to jump your bones…not that I don’t want to” she whispered the last part hopefully quiet enough to not be heard by the elder guy, but judging by his smirk, she hadn’t been successful “I just wanna thank you for bringing me home, plus I think you could use the caffeine”.

The brunette nodded getting out of the car with her and locking it before walking into her place as he looked around “so…Lucas isn’t here?” As soon as she had stepped foot into her home Y/N remembered the state of the place and hurriedly picked up around so that it wouldn’t look too messy shaking her head “no….truth is….he hasn’t been here for the past 5 days” she bit her lip hard as admitting it outloud made it all the more real. Once she had thrown everything out of sight she went to start the coffee pot and rested against the countertop looking at kuku, was that a slight smile she saw on his face?

“Have you two…broken up then?” He knew he shouldn’t be this happy over this possibility, a break up is always shitty but he couldn’t help but feel at least hopeful over the chance of things working out for him. He sat down on the kitchen island in front of Y/N.

“Well…not in so many words no, I mean, not officially, but we did have an argument, five days ago, I told him I didn’t wanna see his face around here that night and he left, hasn’t come back, texted or called since then.” She whispered the last part wrapping her arms around her own body and looked down to the floor to try and blink away those stupid tears that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. Kuku frowned seeing her upset and reached out pulling her to him gently making room for her to stand between his knees and hugged her tight kissing her head.

“Honestly….if he doesn’t see the kind of woman he has standing next to him he’s even dumber than I thought, it’s his loss, truly, if I were lucky enough to be in his place…” he mumbled cutting himself short when he realized what he was about to say when he saw Y/N look up at him with glossy eyes. He sighed gently wiping her tears from her cheeks and took a deep breath before picking up where he left off, there was no use on denying what he felt now, even more so after seeing her cry, he only wanted to protect her and take care of her “If I were lucky enough to be in his place. I’d make sure to show you how important you are to me, I would do anything and everything in my power to help you achieve your dreams, you’re a wonderful person, gorgeous inside an out from what I’ve gotten to know you, and you deserve to have as your partner someone who sees how special you are and helps you shine on your own, who builds your light up, not someone who tries to dim you down.” Y/N kept looking at Esteban, not only could she look at him all night because he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, but hearing him say that, not only made her insides burn with desire, it made her heart swell with love.

That night, standing on that kitchen floor between Esteban’s knees, she understood two things, not only she didn’t love Lucas anymore and was determined to officially break things off with him as soon as possible, but she was also falling in love with the man in front of her, she was falling fast, she was falling hard, and she was falling deep in love with him and this was either gonna be the love story she was gonna tell her kids, or the break up that was gonna ruin her life. But either way, she was ready to find out.

Lucia’s notes: I told you all it was gonna get better didn’t I? and you haven’t seen the half of it! If you wanna be tagged in coming posts, please coment below. Also, no comments or likes needed but they are much appreciated. I love hearing what you think!

Credit to @cafekitsune for the MDNI divider and the section divider, they're amazing!!! go follow her if you wanna find amazing resources!

Taglist: @madame-fear @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro @espinasrubi @lastflowrr @koiibiito @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred @deepinsideyourbeing

#esteban kukuriczka fics #esteban kukuriczka fanfic #esteban kukuriczka smut #esteban kukuriczka x reader #lsdln #lsdln cast #lsdln x reader #lsdln smut #esteban kukuriczka #fanfics #fanfiction

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chrissturnsw1fe · 2 months ago

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LIGHT SNACK

Tw / smut / TikTok trend / fingering / head / slight choking / face fucking / slight overstimulation / mentions of suggestive comments / degradation / dom!matt / sub!reader / p in v / (wrap it before you tap it) / no protection / read at your own risk

Summary: your best friend Matt wants to try a TikTok trend and it ends up in sweating and loud noises.

A/n : I really wanted a fic like this so I made one enjoy my little sluts.

You wake up and check your phone and see a message from Matt

‘Hey wanna come over we haven’t hung out being just us in awhile’

Me and Matt have always been extremely close and being in a group with Nick and Chris all the time we have not had the chance to hang out just us. I open the message and reply,

‘Yeah can you pick me up in 30’

‘Yeah course’

I get out of bed and get changed into some grey sweats and a baby tee and decided to put on some light makeup and straighten my hair with the time I have left over. About 25 minutes pass and I get a message from Matt saying he’s outside.

I shove my shoes on and walk out the door “hey matttt” I say happy to see him “hey y/n you want aux” he replies “bitch of course I do” I click onto Spotify and put on les by childish gambino and start singing along.

We get to the triplets house after about 10 minutes Matt puts the car in park and we walk into the house I say a quick hi to Nick and Chris and I walk to matts room immediately grabbing Mr. Wrinkleton Matt laughs at me. “I missed Mr. Wrinkleton more than you sorryyyy” I laugh Matt sticks his middle finger up at me jokingly. I place my hand on my heart pretending to be hurt “wowwww so kind” I hit him on the shoulder.

After awhile of us being dickheads we settle to watch a movie “you pick a movie I’ll go get snacks” I say to Matt. I walk into the kitchen and see Nick and Chris have gone out. I shrug my shoulders and go into the snack Cupboard and grab some popcorn and Pringles as I walk back into matts room hes in his phone listening to some TikTok trend I didn’t hear but I chuck the snacks on the bed “I’m going to the bathroom quick”.

Matts pov

I picked out a movie to watch then go on my phone while I wait for y/n I see this trend where you cut the bottom of a Pringles tube and put your cock into it I thought it was funny and I wanted to try it but wasn’t sure how she would react but yolo I guess. She comes back into the room with Pringles and popcorn bingo “I’m going to the bathroom” she says. Perfect I grab some scissors and cut the bottom of the tube and put the Pringles in the bin as I had no where to put them.

I whip my cock out and put it in the tube and cover the rest of my body with a blanket the I hear the toilet flush and the tap turn on ‘perfect’ I think to myself.

Readers pov

I come back in from the bathroom and jump on the bed next to Matt and open the bag on popcorn the way Matt was sitting was kinda hot wait I can’t say that he’s my best friend I feel my thighs clench the way he was sitting so nonchalantly fuck me he was hot to change my mind I decided to eat my popcorn and watch the movie after a little bit and go to get some Pringles and feel something in the tube that is definitely not a Pringle a small smirk can be seen on matts face my face goes bright red “cat got your tongue” Matt says seductively. I don’t reply I just gulp nervously me and Matt have never done anything sexually before he grabs my leg and makes me straddle him “I can make you feel good” he says.

“F-fuck y-es” I reply “of course you want it you slut tell me how bad” Matt speaks up he can change up so bad and I fuck with it “b-ad” I can’t even talk properly he’s just so fucking hot “beg for it like the whore you are” I have never took Matt for a dirty talk kinda guy “fuckk please I want it bad so bad” I beg they was just something about him I don’t know why this is happening but I wanted him to touch me “good girl you gonna do as I say and carry on being good or will I have to punish you” Matt spoke up.

I grinded against him for some friction against my heat as i did I felt a sharp spank on my sweats “take it as your gonna be bad….stand up and take your clothes off and be good or I will have to punish you” holy fuck the way he spoke had me dripping. I get of his lap and slowly undress my self till I’m naked as Matt squirms but has to stay in control. He stands up and backs me up against a wall “behave and get on your knees you whore” I slowly sink down as Matt undresses himself and lines his cock up to my mouth.

He pushes it in to my mouth he’s huge and shifts back and forth in my mouth I gag from how big he is he groans and picks up his speed as mascara runs down my face I bop my head to make it faster “shittt like that ma” I keep up the paste and me gaging sends vibrations to his tip “fuckk you slut gonna make me cum” with that I feel his warm seed in my mouth “swallow it like a good whore” I swallow it and open my mouth to show him “being such a good girl f’me”.

Matt helps me up and signals for me to get on the bed and lay down he goes in between my legs and kisses my inner thighs I let out I soft moan as he slowly moves to closer and kisses my clit I buck my hips from the sensation Matt holds my thighs down as he eats me out gosh now I see why his nickname is matt the munch “Fuckk mattttt” he slowly enters one of his long fingers pasteing it back and forth adding in another “I’m gonna come” I could feel the knot in my stomach “you come when I say you can ma” i was trying my best to hold it but I couldn’t for much longer “Matt I can’t hold it please let me come” i was desperate “come f’me you slut come all over my fingers” I release and scream from pleasure “OMGGGGGG”. Matt doesn’t stop he keeps pounding his fingers into me as my legs start shaking “fuckkk Matt omg Matt” I shout from pleasure I’m so happy Chris and Nick aren’t home “I’m gonna come again MATTT” as soon as I said that he stops.

“Turn around and put your ass in the air now” I do as he says he enters himself in “your safe word is red” “o-Kay” he starts off slow the picks up his speed almost immediately hitting my g-spot “fuckkk matthew” i could almost smell the smirk on his face when i screamed his name “that it baby scream my name let the whole street know this pussys mine” he pounds into me and I couldn’t hold my orgasm in any longer and I let it go squirting all over him and then feel a spank on my ass “I didn’t tell you that you could come yet but I’ll allow it this once” he carry’s on pounding into me I feel him twitch and then it’s stops with the feeling of being filled up with his come dripping down my legs. He slowly pulls out and we both collapse next to each other.

“You did great doll” Matt says sweetly as he kisses my forehead “lets get you cleaned up hm” I nod as Matt walks out the room to get a wet towel and he comes back and cleans me up and changes the bed sheets after we cleaned up we watched a movie and Matt got a message from Nick.

“How loud did you need to be the whole street definitely heard that if we did”

Matt smirked as he cuddled up to me and we carried on with our movie

#chris sturniolo #stur #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #spotify #so hot and sexy

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jseobsky · 2 years ago

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I'm not weird.

paring ! bf!Niki x gn!Reader genre ! angst-comfort synposis ! people aren't nice with their words towards things they don't understand. after starting to feel ashamed about your interest towards kpop, niki comes to comfort you. warnings ! crying, feeling ashamed, idk bro, swearing haven't proofread w/c ! 0.8k

a/c ! totally not writing this because lately people have been making me feel ashamed of my liking towards kpop- totally not... too lazy to add a picture, might add one later

master list ! enha's master list

Lately my colourful world has faded into a black and white madness. Truly showed me what people’s words could do to my happiness. I wonder if I’ll be strong enough to hide a part of me that is so important, a part of me that has saved my life. I can’t hide what makes me me. But I’ll have to try. People made me ashamed of me, people made me ashamed of what makes me happy. Maybe this means I’ll never be happy again, or at least that I won’t show it.

I talk to my plushy about it. It listens to my rants and to my cries for help. I don’t have a person to talk about it tho, everyone seems to deem what I love as odd. Maybe only unalived things will be my saviour. I also talk to myself, to my imagination, they comfort me. “Am I weird?” I say to the nothingness. A person appears in front of me, it holds my shoulder. “No. No you aren’t. You can’t be, no.”

“Hey, are you okay?” The soft voice talks to me again, I open my eyes, they immediately start to water. “How did you know?” My voice trembles. He sits on my bed and caresses my hair, trying to stay calm. “Just had a feeling when you didn’t reply to any of my messages. You usually spam me 24/7 about any new kpop news,” Niki says with a frowned expression. I shrink down my bed. I’ve been avoiding talking about anything related to my special interests. It was hard, more when I didn’t know what to talk about outside them. My life revolved around my interests so, did my life just end? “Nothing interesting came out, sorry” I try to come up with an excuse. Niki raises an eyebrow at me. “I know damn well that’s not true, someone just confirmed that aespa is having a comeback soon. Also, today is vi’enx pre-debut album. I know how excited you were about it” I look down. “So confess, who the fuck said something that made you be this down that you haven’t even opened up Spotify to listen to Tricky house like you’ve been for the past weeks?”

Maybe I couldn’t escape this one. The more I tried to come up with an excuse, the more Niki looked at me waiting for an answer knowing what will be a lie and what will be not. “Some people commented about how weird my liking towards kpop is” I look into his eyes. His eyes are widened and he looks shocked at my answer. “Did they know you?” “Why does that matter?” He scoffed. “Well it’obvious. Anyone who knows you and knows about how happy kpop makes you shouldn’t talk shit about it” I look to the side. Oh. Niki lets out a breath trying to calm himself down. “Look. I’m not saying that if you don’t tell me their names right now I won’t go find them and make them regret their words. But that’s exactly what I’m saying.” He tries to joke. I smile a bit, for the first time in a while. “But meanwhile,” he continues, “let’s talk about why what they said is completely wrong. You shouldn’t feel bad, ashamed, or even disgusted by something that makes you feel happy. Did they say it was weird? Heck, I’m sure their interests are weird as well. Was it a football fan? Lord, I hate those people, they be criticizing people for being fans of things, and then they shout whenever their bias- I mean favourite player scores a goal. Also, it’s not weird. Why would it be weird to enjoy music, to enjoy something?” “They say it’s weird because of the idols, they don’t mind the music, just not my love for the people behind the music.” “Have they never loved an artist? Or a singer? Matter of a fact, have they ever had a friend? Because it doesn’t seem so. It seems they don’t understand the connection you can have with someone because of their craft.” I stand up from my laying position, sitting now in front of Niki. “It’s because of the fanfics, and the jokes about me loving them as if they were my partner” Niki gasped dramatically. “As if they were your partner for fuck's sake. Look at me, I’m the one dating you, right?” I nod. “And I don’t find it weird when you fangirl about how hot does Kang Taemoo or Namjoon look like, right?” “Well I don’t know about that, maybe you do-” “I don’t.” Niki cuts me. “I find it cute, because I know you love me in a completely different way you love them. It makes you happy, why wouldn’t I want you to be happy?”

We stay quiet for a few seconds. “You’re right” Niki’s eyes soften again at my broken voice. “It makes me happy, I shouldn’t let people make me feel ashamed of it.” He hugs me. “You’re right, you shouldn’t. And seriously, if someone makes you feel like that ever again, tell me. I’ll come and cuddle you while watching a show or a movie and we’ll talk trash about how locals don’t understand us.”

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year ago

Text

Bright Like The Moon: Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Something Tells Me You Know What I Mean

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Fandom: Night Hunter

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Black!OFC

Word count: 5.5K

Summary: Kamaria Mansfield is hired at the Minnesota Police Department as an intern. Detective Walter Marshall is overworked and unsatisfied. Takes place post-film.

Chapter Summary: Walter and Kamaria have had a rocky road back uphill, will they get to even ground or will it crumble beneath their feet?

Chapter warnings: mentions of past trauma (abduction/SA from last chapter), police interrogation, yelling, Daddy kink, dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, fingering (anal - f receiving), creampie, double creampie

A/N: I’m not a detective or a lawyer, I don’t know the law, I just write fanfiction. So, don’t use my work as research material. Also, there is a special guest. Oh, wait there are two special guests! Un-beta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me, model for Cover Art credits

Cross-posted on AO3

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Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Kamaria’s POV

One Month Later

“I have to say you are making leaps and bounds these days, Kamaria. I’m proud of you,” Yada sits in her armchair, smiling at me and I can’t help but return it, “Are you proud of yourself?”

“I…am, yeah,” I rub my hands together while trying to get my words to flow, “I’ve been through a lot in the last month or so. My abduction and assault were a blow to my spirit. But, I’ve done the work to help with the anxiety.”

“You have definitely done some work with your anxiety. Just looking at you, your shoulders aren’t slumped and you look relaxed. How about sleeping and eating? I was worried for a while about nightmares keeping you up. It also crossed my mind that this incident might trigger a relapse in your eating disorder.” Yada’s face is one of support, but I can see her genuine concern for me.

“The nightmares have gotten better. When I’m woken up, I do my breathing exercises and I’m usually able to get right back to sleep. I eat three meals a day now. It’s nice to feel hungry again and not just be forcing myself to eat. I’ve identified my triggers in movies and tv so I can judge what’s ok for me to watch. I start back to work next week, which is awesome. Still having trouble with crowds though. I mean, I have Walter there so I feel like I have an anchor but I haven’t been alone in a crowd.” As I mention Walter, that little thought in the back of my mind crawls its way to the front of my consciousness.

Maybe she won’t ask me about it this time?

“So, speaking of Walter, how’s your intimacy?”

Damn it!

“We make out like teenagers behind bleachers. He’s still my cuddly grumpy bear,” I slowly shake my head as I look down, preparing myself to unleash my emotions, “I love Walter. I do. He started going to a therapist to deal with how this all affected him. I’m so proud of him for that, that man is not vocal. I mean, yeah, with me he won’t shut up. But with strangers, he keeps everything so close to the chest.”

“Have you not noticed any changes in his demeanor?”

“He’s become able to talk with me about what happened. I mean, before? He would walk on eggshells around me like I was this fragile porcelain doll. After some yelling from me, he agreed that he wasn’t dealing with what happened and he started therapy. But, I don’t know how to like, ask him for more.”

“More?”

“I don’t know how to convince Walter that I’m ready to have sex. He seems like he wants to. But he always stops right before we would usually…‘go all the way’.” Getting frustrated, I end it there.

“You haven’t had sex of any kind?” Thanks for being blunt, Yada.

“Well, we have. Technically. He has gone down on me a few times. But when I ask to return the favor, he usually just says he’s fine or that I don’t have to. And, I’m just salivating these days because I can see that he’s aroused and he won’t let me touch him. I don’t want to force him to tell me what’s stopping him. But I’m worried that it’s something I’m doing that is holding him back. I’m five seconds away from just jumping on him while naked but I don’t want to scare him. And that’s not me putting down my body, I’m just saying coming at him like that might be a little…much.”

“This may seem intense but, have you considered asking him what troubles him?” When I open and close my mouth like a fish gasping for air, she continues, “Great. That’s your homework, then.” Yada takes out her notebook and writes something down before getting up to go around to her desktop computer.

My eyes are following her, my brow creasing, “So just…ask him about it?”

“Yup. Ask him what’s holding him back from allowing himself to be touched. Tell him you want to touch him. Tell him the truth, that you miss that part of your relationship. And ask him what you can do to help. Be comforting, be there for him like he’s been there for you, and be your genuine self.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Just inform him that I miss his dick and ask him what I can do to make touching it again a reality. Perfect, I got this.” I slap a fake smile on my face and give a thumbs-up to Yada.

“Fake smile or not, you can handle this. Remember to breathe and take your time. Any answer he may give you could be triggering, so pace yourself and remember your coping skills.”

I nod, not really feeling like talking anymore.

We finish up the session and say our goodbyes. As I leave her office, I steel my features and make it to the hallway where Walter sits and reads from his phone.

Oh, did I not mention that he won’t let me go anywhere by myself? Yeah. He’s become my shadow.

“Hey baby, you ready?” I say, grabbing his hand as he reaches it out to me. I must have let a bit of emotion slip through because I can see the gears working behind his smile.

As we walk to the exit, Walter speaks, “You have homework concerning me, don’t you?”

I stop walking and gulp nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

“So, that’s a yes. Don’t worry, I can’t hear what happens in Yada’s office. You just have a tell when you have to talk to me about something, that’s all.”

My dumb ass actually waits for him to tell me what my giveaway is, we end up in the parking lot before I realize he’s not saying anything. “Gonna keep that to yourself, then?”

“Of course!” He chuckles, pulling me to him so he can plant a kiss on my temple.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” I pout, getting into the truck, “But, there better be ice cream in the near future.”

He smiles at me, tilting his head and saying nothing but closing the door. Putting on my seatbelt, I grumble to myself as he is getting into the truck. That little shit!

“I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.” I freeze and look up to see a stern Daddy's face.

“I’m sorry!” I scramble to recover, not wanting to say what I said under my breath.

“Hm. Sounded something like ‘See if I will get any ice cream after that outburst’? But, that can’t be right.” He adopts a confused expression, then looks at me with a hint of fire in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Now, let’s go home for lunch and see if you can’t earn yourself a treat.” He reaches over and pats my thigh before giving it a squeeze in one large paw.

The noise I make is somewhere between a whimper and a moan. And judging by the look on Walter’s face as he starts the car, he enjoyed the sound. He spends the entire ride with his hand on my thigh, and it’s glorious feeling the heat emanating from his hand.

Walter’s POV

After a simple yet hearty lunch, we settle down on the couch. She hasn’t brought up her homework yet, which means it’s going to be a tough conversation. It’s not as if I’m looking forward to having this interaction, but the sooner it is over the sooner we can move forward.

If I were a betting man, I would put money on it that she wants to talk about our sex life. Or rather, my inability to give myself to her as of late. She won’t like the reason why and I’ll have to take what she dishes out on that front.

I did something she asked me not to do and now I have to tell her.

I spoke to her attacker. Technically.

Walter’s POV

Three Weeks Ago

It’s been about a week since…the incident. Kam is taking this all in stride, from therapy appointments to meetings with the legal team. With the evidence collected, it’s pretty much an open-and-shut case to get both of these men in prison.

Justin is being charged with drug possession and being an accomplice in the kidnapping. But her captor is being charged with criminal sexual conduct in the second degree, rape in the second degree, and kidnapping in the second degree.

I am off of the case, per the department and Kamaria herself. I’m too close to it. I know that. I understand that I have a stake in this. The love of my life was hurt by these men, and all I want is to see them come to justice.

Seeing her in that hospital bed broke me. Talking to that little shit who somehow thinks he and Kam are in love? While he might have lost the plot, he’s a delusional kid at best and a misguided psychopath at worst. He’s in custody and he’s cooperating with us which is all I care about right now.

Well, not all I care about. The other one is on my mind nonstop. The mastermind who somehow got help from a kid to commit atrocious crimes. The tosser who I’m told is complex, charismatic, and calculating. I was specifically told by Kam to not get involved. I was officially told by Harper to stay out of it.

And I didn’t engage. Technically.

It’s a particularly taxing day and I barely slept a wink the night before. Nightmares were keeping Kam awake and I stay up with her so she isn’t alone. The lack of sleep could have accounted for what happened, but let’s be honest I would have done the same damn thing on a full night’s sleep.

I was walking to the men’s room when there was a commotion down the hall. It sounded like it was coming from interrogation and I felt like being nosy.

I wish I never walked down that hall.

I see Commissioner Harper exiting Interrogation Room 2 but he doesn’t see or hear me approaching. A uniformed officer stands at the door, his eyes flitting between Harper and myself. He clears his throat in a vain attempt to subtly announce my presence.

Harper turns and notices me, coming to turn me back in the other direction. I make it to the window before he’s able to stop me from looking in. I recognize Rachel sitting with her back to the window, but the person she’s talking to looks unfamiliar. He looks like an arsehole, that mustache belongs in a bad 70s porno.

“Who’s the–” I begin, but Harper stops me.

“Detective, turn around right now. You don’t want to be here.” He points a finger in the other direction and I’m confused for a moment before clarity washes over me.

“Why don’t–,” It feels like slow motion as I look back to the window and it clicks into place, “Is that him?”

The way he looks down, pinching the bridge of his nose, means my suspicion is confirmed.

Turning back to the window, I clench my jaw and stare ahead at the son-of-a-bitch. I can feel my hands start to tremble, and the adrenaline of rage courses through my veins. Only one thing can help release all of this pent-up energy. As if he could read my mind, I hear Harper speak up.

“Marshall, don’t even think about it.” He doesn’t sound very convincing, does he?

“I promise I won’t touch him, I won’t even say a word,” I plead with him to let me in, “I just need to look into his eyes.” My voice starts to crack at the end and I feel like I could scream.

“Don’t make me regret this,” He signals to the officer to step aside, “And I mean it, not a fucking word.” I nod and we walk in catching the end of a conversation.

“...and then that goddamn kid goes and falls for the girl. I wake up and they’re both gone! Police jammin’ me up over a fuckin’ skirt? Such bullshit! This wasn’t even on me. There’s no point for me to lie, I know you have Justin here somewhere. He’s told you plenty I’m sure.” As if he was so enthralled in his own story, he turns to look at us finally as Harper takes a seat next to Rachel and I remain standing and crossing my arms. His face peels into a shit-eating grin when he settles on me.

Rachel looks up at me and then to Harper who holds up a hand. I see her tense before moving on. “When you say “this wasn’t on you”, what does that mean?”

“I get an envelope delivered to my door with a picture of this girl and a fat stack of cash. I could’ve just run off with the money, but I was promised more when the job was done.”

“What exactly was ‘the job’?”

I debated leaving at the point and well, hindsight is 20/20.

“Well, the job was to find Kamaria Mansfield. Find out if she was happy, and end that happiness. Seems like she’s a lot tougher than we thought, eh Walter?” He looks back up at me and winks, “Where are my manners? Lloyd Hansen, pleased to finally meet you face-to-face.”

“How do you know–” Rachel starts, but Hansen interrupts.

“Like I said, sweetheart. The job was to find the girl, and anywhere that Mary went, her lamb was sure to go. And by lamb, I mean this big lug over here. They spend almost every waking hour together, it would be cute if I didn’t have a job to do. So, she’s definitely happy. But! She’s dating a fucking detective and working in a fucking police station, so my options are limited. I follow her for weeks until he drives her to meet with her friends at some stupid little club. Luckily, I knew I could overpower her, but it was best to make sure she wouldn’t fight me. And that’s where Justin comes in.” He stops to catch his breath, then starts again.

“Now, Justin…lives with me. Met him online, only knows me as Sir. That boy is a pretty little thing and he has his uses. Drugs and easy sex are about it, actually. I call him up and tell him to get an Uber to the club ‘cause we’re going to find me a girl. He had no clue about my job and he didn’t need to know. Sort of an unspoken ignorance is bliss type deal. Anyway, he gets to the club and I’ve been watching her all night. I wait until she’s dancing by herself. The other two chicks are at the bar being seduced by two lunkheads that look like they could benchpress a fucking cow. I make my way over to the girl and start grinding behind her. I figure she’s out on the town without the boyfriend, and dancing isn’t cheating so why not cut a rug? But she’s not into it and starts to try and get away, that little scamp. So I make sure I hold onto her tight while Justin gets in place to keep her distracted. He’s able to slip her the Molly. And it goes through her pretty quickly, probably due to the booze in her system. Pretty soon, she is all over Justin and he’s excited as hell until she starts to freak out, asking for Walter before she passes out. We get her to the van in the alley and we take her to where we stay.”

“And that’s the house near Twin Lakes Beach, off Route 69?” Rachel, ever the professional, tries to keep him talking.

“That’ll be the one. Had her for about a day and a half before I noticed her and Justin getting a little too chummy. I thought about killing her, but why murder when you can emotionally and physically scar someone? I made sure she’d never forget me, I made sure that what I did left a mark. She could never see it all as a bad dream, because she’ll have evidence that it all happened. From the pain in her pussy to the cuts from my butterfly knife on her hands and face, I’ll always be with her. And every time you look at her, Walter, you’ll be thinking of me, won’t you?” He was so pleased with himself. Perhaps he wanted to have this interaction with me all along, to rub it all in my face.

All I could see was red, my hands start to hurt from shaking so badly, and I knew I could pick him up and throw him just from the outrage in my veins. I keep my arms crossed because I knew if I lowered them, they would be reaching out for this arsehole. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself at that moment. I don’t know how I managed to hold myself together at all.

Before I say or do something I regret, Harper stands and walks out of the room and drags me along with him. For a few moments, I’m stunned speechless. But that’s over soon enough.

“He knew her name, he knew she worked here, he knew me, and he knew we were dating. This means it wasn’t random. Which means someone wanted to purposefully hurt her. But who would want to hurt her?” As the question is coming out of my mouth, I think of one name.

Christopher.

The ex-boyfriend from college. The one who abused her, the one she hit over the head with a sculpture. But does he have the means, the motive, or the opportunity to hire someone to rough up his ex? And would bringing him into this put Kam at risk of being brought up on charges of assault? With so many variables, I do the only thing I could think to do.

I keep my fucking mouth shut. I tell Harper this is too much for me and I make a hasty exit.

Once I am back in my office, I call to check in on Kam and just hearing her voice keeps me calm. I manage to keep my voice steady and if she hears my voice falter, she doesn’t mention it. And I thank my lucky stars.

As we end the call, I think back to Lloyd’s words: “Every time you look at her, Walter, you’ll be thinking of me”.

The stuff of nightmares…

Kamaria’s POV

The Present

“Walter?” I wave my hand in front of his face, getting his attention, “You were certainly deep in thought.”

“Sorry, love. Just wondering what your homework is, is all.” He takes a deep breath and nudges me to speak.

“Well, it’s…I just,” I take a beat, chewing on my lip, “Walter, I…fuck, this is suddenly really difficult to talk about.”

He puts a hand over my fidgeting fingers and instantly soothes me.

“Um, ok. I’ll just come out with it then. I miss being intimate with you. I miss touching you. And I want you to know that I love when you eat me out. Trust me, I absolutely go nuts for it. But, you don’t let me return the favor. And we haven’t had sex in about a month. I just, want to know what I can do to make you feel comfortable. I’m just hoping it isn’t something I’m doing to keep you away–”

“No, no, no. Kam, it’s not you. I’m so sorry that I even made you feel like it was something you did,” He turns and faces me while sitting on the couch, “I have to tell you something and you’re not going to like it. But it will explain why I’ve been the way I have been.”

I push down the immense fear that he’s leaving me, my abandonment issues rearing their ugly head yet again. I nod for him to continue to avoid the threat of my voice cracking when I speak.

“I know you told me not to get involved in your case. But something happened a few weeks ago and you deserve to know about it.” The grave look on his face has me worried.

“What happened?”

He proceeds to launch into a retelling of what my attacker said to him. From being given “the job” to following us and watching me in the club. It hurt to hear that Walter was given all this information. Just to hurt him. But, as mad as I am at Lloyd for what he did to me, I feel just as furious at Walter for keeping all of this a secret for almost a month.

“So, let me get this straight. You’ve been hurting in silence and didn’t think, not even once, to share this with me? Just leaving me thinking it’s my fault that you don’t want to have sex with me? But it’s the words of a sociopath that you chose to cling to. What happened to ‘we’re in this together’?”

“We are in this together. I just thought I could handle it.”

“Handle it?!” I untangle myself from him and get up from the couch to start pacing, my anger bubbling inside me, “How do you expect to handle something like that without actually fucking handling it with me or your therapist? Fucking anyone!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy breath through his nostrils. “How could I have told you then? It had been less than a week since you got out of the hospital. If I brought this up, it would have seriously affected your progress and I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh, thank you for waiting to tell me until I had to practically reach inside you and pull out this information. You’re letting him get to you, don’t give him that power. I’m telling you that from a victim’s perspective. Yes, he hurt us, but if we dwell on that, we’re letting him win.”

“Just knowing what he looks like, having him tell me to my face what he did to you. It took everything out of me not to thrash him. I wanted to kill him. That anger…it’s never left me. I just push it down. I just…” An inhuman grunt escapes him and it goes straight to my core.

“Stop pushing it down.”

He wipes a hand down his face and looks up at me. “What do you mean?”

“Something tells me you know exactly what I mean…Daddy.”

“I’m too wound up for that, I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

“I’m not afraid that you’ll hurt me,” I kneel in front of where he sits on the couch, “I’m afraid that you won’t.”

A shuddering breath leaves Walter before he leans forward and grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck. “Does Princess need a little pain from Daddy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I let the emotion inside me escape as tears down my face, “Please hurt me.”

“Fuck you look beautiful when you cry for me, Princess,” He releases my hair and leans back to unbutton and unzip his jeans, his thick and hard dick springing out. He reaches a hand to my face to wipe my tears and with that same hand he starts to jerk his dick, “Come suck your tears off Daddy’s dick, Princess.”

I’ve never thrown myself on a dick so fast. I don’t take my time, I’ve missed it too much. I suck him down, my tongue massaging the underside of his dick. The sounds coming out of him were so rewarding and I could feel the wetness already gathering in my folds. I clench my legs together to keep focused but it only made me moan around his length.

Gathering all my hair in one hand, he holds me steady so he could fuck my face and I couldn’t be happier. The heavy weight of him on my tongue, the drool leaking from the sides of my mouth, my gagging sounds when he hits my uvula.

It’s too much and I try and move a hand down into my panties but I’m stopped when Walter pulls my head off of him quickly. I sputter and cough, wiping at the drool on my lips.

“Awwww does Princess need attention on her little pussy?” I nod, as he jerks himself in my face, “Panties off, come up here so you can suck Daddy’s dick and I can play with that pretty pussy.”

I pull my skirt up and pull down my panties, shucking them…somewhere behind me. I get down on all fours with my ass up, leaning down on my elbows. Walter lands some seriously mighty smacks to my ass and stifles my moans by shoving my head down on his length.

He snakes a hand to my clit and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. I groan into his dick and feel him twitch in my mouth. I sink down on him, letting him repeatedly into my throat for as long as he can handle it. Which ends up being long enough that my throat hurts.

The man hasn’t fucked me in a month but has this kind of stamina, must be all the anger coursing through him.

“Fuck, Princess…need to have this pussy in my mouth before I fuck it,” He starts to get up and I go to move but he stops me, “You stay right where you are, baby,” He moves behind me on the couch, pushing my front all the way down so my pussy is exposed under my plump ass, “Fuck, so fucking wet for me already, Princess. Such a good girl for Daddy.”

He flattens his tongue and licks from my clit to my entrance, Stiffening his tongue, he fucks into me while his thumb rubs my clit. I push back on him, riding his tongue until I feel that familiar tension.

“Daddy, please may I cum?”

“Be a good girl and cum on Daddy’s tongue, Princess.” That’s when he decides to push his tongue as far as it will get into my cunt. I can feel him licking my walls.

Oh, he’s really eating me out now.

“Fuck fuck fuuuuuuuck,” I feel the knot tighten then release as I cum over my tongue and lips. My legs shake as I come down and I don’t notice Walter getting into position behind me.

I’m so tight and hot after cumming that he has to push in a few times before my pussy lets him in all the way. But once he’s nestled inside, we both groan at the feeling. Me from the fullness, him from the snug fit.

Pulling most of the way out, he pushes in slowly. He picks up the pace as he goes, his big paws holding my cheeks apart so he can see the grip I have on him.

“Fuck, I love fucking this pussy, Princess,” He slams into me so deep and fast that I wonder how the fuck he’s doing it, “But this little knot keeps winking at me. I think it wants some attention too.”

“You wanna play with my ass, Daddy?” We’ve never done that before and I’m so turned on and feeling fucked out enough already that I would let him do anything.

“That’s my good girl,” I hear him spit and feel it land on my ass. His thumb circles my knot before dipping in a few times, each time further in than the last until he’s to the knuckle. Holding his finger there, he starts to fuck me again. I feel his dick stretching my cunt and his thumb testing my asshole. “You’re doing so well, baby. We have to get you a plug for this tight ass, keep it ready for me all the time. Fuck I can’t wait to fuck your ass…fucking cum in it and plug you so you keep it all day long. You like that idea, Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy. Want your cum in all my holes.” At this point, my legs have begun to shake again telling me my next orgasm is close.

“Such a good little cumslut you are. You look so good, so full of me right now. Sweet little cunt is full of cock and tight little ass is stuffed. Is Princess gonna cum on Daddy’s cock?” His breathing is labored and his thrusts are getting sloppy.

“Cum with me Daddy. Fill me up!” I push back on his dick so he goes even deeper and I can feel him kissing my cervix with the tip of his dick. “Right there, right there, right there!” With one hand on my clit, I feel the rush of my orgasm as it floods over my fingers.

“That’s it, Princess. Fuck, it’s so…fucking hot…when you…squirt!” His words stutter as he chases his own release and fills me with a load so warm and plentiful that it leaks out past his dick and soaks the couch. Thank goodness this thing is so easy to clean. Between my pussy juices and his jizz, we have got a mess on our hands.

He pulls his finger out of my ass, then pulls his dick out and watches for a beat as his cum dribbles out. I know that’s his favorite part. He disappears into the kitchen and I hear the faucet turn on as he washes his hands. He comes back with one of his dish towels in his hand.

“You’re gonna get a boner every time you use that from now on.” I manage to squeak out before the warm towel touches my sensitive holes.

“Wouldn’t that be a shame?” He lays a quick smack on my ass before wiping the couch down as well. He lifts me off the couch and holds me bridal style, walking to the bedroom. “I don’t feel like showering right now, but you are more than welcome to.” He sets me down on my feet, kissing the top of my head.

We lay in bed for a while, not caring about his cum leaking out of me onto the sheets. We lazily kiss and hold each other and it’s nice.

“So we had our first fight…and it actually ended in makeup sex.” I kiss the corner of his mouth as he smiles.

“Let’s not make that a habit, though, Princess.”

“Well, I mean, maybe if you didn’t keep a secret then I wouldn’t have had to–”

“Princess?”

“Yes?”

“Is Daddy forgiven?” His tongue snakes out over his bottom lip and I know he did that to seduce me.

“I forgive you, Daddy,” He kisses my forehead. “And I love you, Daddy,” He kisses my nose. “And Daddy loves me too.” He smiles as he kisses my lips, reserved at first until I feel his tongue begging for entrance. Opening my mouth, I let him take the lead as he massages my tongue with his.

His hand glides from my cheek down my neck to my arm, finally landing under my knee to pull my leg up and open. As he slides in between my legs, I reach up and tangle my fingers in his messy and sweaty head of curls.

I don’t even care that he is trying to shut me up by kissing me. He’s so fucking good at it!

He reaches down to free his already half-hard dick and he teases it on my clit before using our combined juices as lube, entering me again hard and fast. When I break the kiss to try and catch my breath, he takes that as a sign.

Sitting up on his knees, he opens my legs wider than I’ve ever had them and proceeds to make me forget all about that silly fight.

Wait…what fight?

“Such a good girl taking Daddy’s cock so well. Just need you to cum once for me, Princess. Then Daddy’s gonna fill you up.” The sounds my pussy makes while he pounds into me mixed with the visual of watching his dick slide in and out of me has me quaking in minutes. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

I feel his dick pulsating and twitching inside me and I catch him as he collapses on top of me. Any other time, I’m sure this weight would be uncomfortable. But, right now? All I can feel is a fucked out man who can’t get enough of me.

I wrap my arms and legs around him as he focuses on his breathing.

“Fuck, baby. I must be crushing you. Let me–”

“One more minute, please?”

“Hmmm.” He settles back in and starts to kiss up and down my neck.

“Okay, if you start doing that, we are gonna spend the whole damn weekend in this bed and we have plans, remember?” He keeps kissing and nipping at my spot and just like magic, I can feel myself forgetting all about…

…what was I saying?

Chapter 11

A/N1: The title of this chapter is taken from Vain by KIRBY. It is such a good song, give it a listen!

A/N2: Did you like my special guest? Lloyd Hansen, everybody!!

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