#IF THE WORLD RUNS OUTTA LOVERS

[simba-bonfamille-lyons]

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now /./ [Simber featuring Nala and Kiara]

In which Nala and Kiara make their way to Strawberry Hill for a visit...[takes place: shortly after Simba and Berlioz move in, so mid-March, 2024]

@ber-bonfamille-lyons

[cw -- none]

/./ /./ /./

[link here]

/./ /./ /./

[mickyschumacher]

[THE DEATH OF ME!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: friends with benefits is never a good idea. friends with benefits with carlos sainz especially isn't a good idea.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), jealousy, fwb to lovers trope!, let's hear it for the google translated spanish!!, unprotected sex again (using a condom is hot behaviour ♡︎), remnants of gaslighting?, oral sex, p in v, pussy eating, overstimulation, cumming inside, love confessions, set it up reference!, carlos realising his red flags, mention of rebecca donaldson as the other girl but she isn't vilified or anything (some peeps scare the shit outta me), idk anything about granada (except the memories of the alhambra! can i get an amen?)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x fwb!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6k+

𝐀/𝐍: this was a messaged request so i hope it was up to par! kinda long but we get there eventually. plot holes? yes. proof-read? um... to my sore eyes, yes.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

There were many things the world still couldn't explain. The human body, the brain especially, why humans yawn, the cause of Alzheimers, or why tomatoes have 10,000 more genes than humans do.

In addition, you couldn't explain how you had gotten to be friend with benefits with none other than Carlos Sainz, an F1 driver for Ferrari.

Well... there were some parts you could explain. Like how you met. You were simply a girl from Pampaneira, Granada going grocery shopping after eating up the last of what was in your fridge and Carlos was a fresh bachelor who decided to spend a part of his vacation with his friends over 400 kilometres away from his Madrid home in Granada.

A fresh bachelor who also happened to need grocery's for his cousin's raging hangover.

To say you were the town's golden girl was a bit of an understatement. You were far too busy greeting all your local residents. You didn't notice Carlos when you first walked into the store.

But Carlos noticed you. Actually he noticed you before he even laid eyes on you. Your sweet floral perfume roamed the air and engulfed him, luring him without any words. And then he saw you.

You were a beautiful woman. Everything about you... the long hair, your glowing skin, curves every lover goes to dream about at night, eyes that you would never want to let down, your lips... God your lips, one look at them and no sane person could stop thinking about them... at night; and then there was your smile, a social service that could get rid of all the tension in this world.

You didn't notice Carlos until you felt a pair of eyes staring at you from the health isle that was poorly across from all your fruit. There was no shortage of attractive men in your town let alone Granada. But you had never seen a man like Carlos before.

The thicket of brown locks that you craved to run a hand through, his gorgeous tan skin that God must've given, the mysterious chocolate eyes, the perfectly plump lips which made you think he just had to be a good kisser, the slight scruff on his face that made you wonder how it would feel on your skin, the taut body... a gorgeous man.

You didn't know who Carlos was. In Pampaneira, although you new what it was, no one really cared for F1. It was a village that bordered on as a small town. Everyone here knew each other well and spent every second socialising.

You couldn't decide whether you wanted to talk to him or whether you were too nervous to. But it didn't matter because Carlos made the first move and introduced himself. You introduced yourself. He complimented you. You complimented him.

And that was that.

By nightfall, he was in your bed and the both of you had the most sinful, steamiest sex of your lives. So much that Carlos saw you for the rest of his time there. So much that when it was time to leave, Carlos told you to come with him.

And you did.

It was all of that that had led up to all of this. This being your attendance to a dinner at an F1 event as Carlos' plus one in Barcelona. He couldn't hide a beauty like you. Besides, the Spain paps had already managed to weasel their way into your relationshpi with Carlos. Most people thought you were dating. But Carlos had firmly laid the rule out as one did when you became friends with benefits: you don't fall in love. Neither one of you. You agreed for the sanity of your brain because you were far too attracted to the man to fall into the tricky waters of love.

"Holy shit, Carlos..." Lando swore when his eyes landed on the entrance of the dinner.

Carlos raised a brow at this driver, turning his head to the direction of Lando's gaze. He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw you. Every time he saw you, he couldn't be more thankful that he had eyes.

You had captured everyone's attention no doubt. How could they not look? Not when you were dressed in a light yellow satin material that hugged you in all the right places. Not when your neck was adorned in the diamond lariat necklace Carlos had brought you, hiding all the hickeys he had place there this morning. Not when the back of the dress scooped so far down that it only rested a few inches above your ass.

Christ, Carlos thought as he discreetly adjusted his tight pants. You were a sin.

You greeted all the drivers, laughing softly when Lily and Alexandra started to fawn over your appearance.

"I'm telling you, you are probably killing Carlos right now," Lily whispered on one side of you.

You rolled you eyes as Alexandra quipped on the other side, "Probably? Look at him. He is suffering."

You pressed your lips together, preventing a full-blow grin from washing onto your face.

That was kind of the point.

You tried to avoid as much of Carlos as you could because riling him up was one of your favourite pastimes. But in your endeavour, you felt a familiar hand graze your bare back, sending a warm tingle up your spine.

"All of this when we don't get to finish the night together? No juegas limpio, mi niña bonita," Carlos' lust-ridden voice whispered as his head dipped down, letting him place a small kiss behind your ear. You don't play fair, my pretty girl.

You gave him a meek smile. As much as you loved his compliments, they were starting to get you these days. The endearments combine with his actions were stirring up feelings that should be sounding alarms in your head.

"Jugar limpio no es divertido," You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to divert you eyes to the dinner. Playing fair is no fun.

"That's true." Carlos poked his tongue in his cheek upon hearing your remark. You reminded him of a firecracker. Always ready to burst and come back with something to say.

"You have to admit it is sad though, hmm? Because all I want to do is take that dress off you and fuck you. I want to make you cum over and over again till all you can call yourself is mine. I want to watch my cum fall from your pussy because you can't take it all, niña bonita. And then I want to push it right back in so you can walk around with it all day. Soon. I promise."

You let out a shaky breath as Carlos' breathing became heavier and heavier. You chewed down on your bottom lip, standing a bit straighter to discreetly clench your legs together. With a small smile, you turned to Carlos. "I hate you," You told him in the softest and sweetest voice you could muster.

Carlos grinned, making your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, his chest facing your back, and his chin resting on your collarbone. "Please. You love me."

You blinked blankly at the cold splash of reality that fell over you. You gave a dry and short laugh. You patted his hand with your own. "En tus sueños, Carlos." In your dreams, Carlos.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Mornings without Carlos usually meant you had energy because you weren't having your brains fucked out. But your usual opening of your socials had brought something that drained you entirely.

You stared at your ceiling of your hotel room blankly. Regardless of whether Carlos was awake right now, he wouldn't have even seen this. He didn't read any other news other than his favourites like ESPN or the CBS Sports Network.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. What was this feeling in your stomach? Anger? Annoyance? Jealousy? You couldn't really put a finger on it and nor could you tell why.

You turned to plant your face in your pillow and let out a muffled groan.

How did you even get here?

Right. The grocery store.

You missed home. Home was an almost 2 hour flight or an eight hour car ride away. You missed when things were simple. When they made sense. Because lately, nothing had made any sense.

The thought of home brought you to the next train of thought: food. And as if on cue, your stomach growled at you with demand. So with the motivation of not starving to death, you got ready to have breakfast and headed down to the nearest cafe because hotel room service sucked.

Opting for a mocha with an extra sugar to counteract the bitterness in your life, you sat down with some a variety of churros and croissants to choose from.

Your phone blared it's default ringtone, capturing your attention. Your eyes flickered over the name and your heart softened and your bad mood had slightly eased. You grabbed the device and slid your thumb to the right.

"Buenos dias, mamà," You greeted. Good morning, mama.

You could hear her exclaim with joy, a sound you hadn't heard in a while. "Ah, mi niña bonita, buenos dias! ¿Cómo estás? No has leído las noticias, ¿verdad?" Ah, my pretty girl, good morning! How are you? You haven't read the news, have you?

You winced at your mother's pet name. You hated this. You hated that the lines between before Carlos and during Carlos were blurring.

"Sí, mamá, lo hice. Don't worry. It's just gossip. All fake," You told her even though you had no idea yourself. Yes, mama, I did.

You heard a sigh of relief from the other side of the call, making your heart hurt. "Right? I thought so. Carlos would never do that. Es un buen chico." He's such a good boy.

You could only tightly smile, agree, and be thankful you weren't seeing your mother in person otherwise she would've been able to tell straight away. You didn't know because all you had agreed on with Carlos was attraction. Nothing more and nothing less.

You caught up a bit with your mother. The conversation ended with her demanding a family dinner to which you told her you would see if Carlos had the time.

It was a simple conversation yet it was eye-opening.

You wanted that family dinner so badly. You wanted to be able to go see your mother and Carlos hang out. Hell, his own mother wanted you to call her mom. You wanted the stupid romantic things like dates, a person who would listen to you, the whispers of sweet nothings because... because you were in love with him.

Of course you were. Sure Carlos slightly had a quick temper and he wasn't that great at being emotional with you or anyone for that matter... but there was that saying: you like because and you love despite. Despite all of his flaws–because no matter how great a man is, he has his flaws–you loved him.

“Buenos dias, cariño,” A familiar voice greeted behind you. Good morning, sweetheart.

You turned your head, finding the root cause of all your problems stand before you with the most handsome smile.

"Carlos," You said with a slightly surprised tone.

Carlos smiled in return, placing a lingering kiss on the side of your head before he sat in front of you. The both of you waited for his coffee to be placed on the table before any conversation between you resumed.

"It's a beautiful day, no? I feel good about this weekend too. It kind of feels like everything is coming together," Carlos told you, raising his brows excitedly at you.

You gave a gentle smile, taking a long sip of your mocha. Slowly you placed the cup down and took in a sharp breath of air. "Carlos... can I tell you something?"

Carlos furrowed his brows and softly laughed at your almost worried tone. He nodded. "Sí, cualquier cosa." Yes, anything.

You looked down at your cup, fingers tracing the rim of the glass as you wondered how to start. Your mouth opened and closed, uncertainty closing in on you. Your eyes snapped up at the taunt of your name slipping from Carlos' mouth.

Okay... you got this.

"Carlos, I... I don't think we should do this anymore."

The crinkles in between in eyebrows and amused smile on his face told you that you had lost him. "You are going to have to be a lot more specific than that, mi niña bonita."

You chewed at your bottom lip. This nickname was getting tiring if he didn't mean it the way you wanted it to. "I mean us, Carlos. This... whatever this is. Friends with benefits... our relationship... it has to stop."

Any amusement on Carlos' face had dropped. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he tried to think back on how you had come to this decision. "I–what? What do you mean? Did something happen? I thought this was going fine... amazing, even."

"This isn't working for me anymore. I don't want to do this anymore," You shrugged with the pretence you didn't care.

Carlos grabbed your hand with his, rubbing the back of yours gently. "Is this the stupid headline thing? Cariño, they don't know what they're talking about."

"You didn't even deny it," You laughed softly as a bitter taste arose in your mouth and you slipped your hand our of his grasp.

Carlos stared at you for a while, unable to defend himself. "I don't understand. We agreed from the start that this wasn't going to be exclusive all the time. Three rules: it's open, we respect each other and we don't... we don't fall in love."

You paid no attention to where Carlos had paused. You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal. "It's not that... I just... I don't want to do this, okay? Just leave it alone."

"Then what is it? I know you. You can give me a better explanation than 'I don't want to do this'. I can't leave this alone. Did someone say something to you? Did they do something? I swear, Y/N, if they did–"

"No," You quickly and sharply interjected. You took a deep breath. "Carlos.. I want more from you. I don't just want to see you every night and morning. I want to see you when we go out to have dinner. I don't want to be your sidepiece, Carlos. I can't... not when I feel like this."

The silence from Carlos was deafening. He struggled to open his mouth. His eyes twinkled with pain. "But you know I can't give you that."

Right. Carlos Sainz didn't do relationships. He was an F1 driver. They liked pass the parcel. And it just so happened, you were his parcel.

You nodded slowly. "Lo sé. Por eso lo siento. I'm sorry for ruining things between us but I can't do this anymore. Because if I do... I'm afraid I fall even further. And that's not fair on me." I know. That's why I'm sorry.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As much as you would like to say you were a responsible citizen who didn't make bad decisions when you were upset, you couldn't.

The offer of clubbing by some of the girlfriends of the drivers was far too appealing in your situation. Your agreement excited the girls because you rarely joined them on these outings because you were too caught up with a certain Spaniard. Granted they didn't know the real reason behind why you were so ready to join them but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

As you arrived to the club, Lily let out a low whistle when she laid eyes on you. "How do you say hot as fuck in Spanish? Because my oh my you are hot as fuck right now."

She wasn't wrong. You felt hot as fuck right now. It was a warm night in Barcelona and the sexy black long sleeve mini dress, the same one you reserved for Carlos, was staring at you, begging for you to take it out of your suitcase. It stuck to your curves, it had some scandalous cuts, and it was backless. A perfect dress for Carlos? Sure. But a perfect dress to let go of yourself in a club.

You almost snorted at the golfer's theatrics but instead you opted for a flutter of your eyelashes and a stretch of your hand. "Oh dear madam, you flatter me!" You thanked her in a poorly imitated British accent.

Heidi and Alexandra laughed quietly as Lily rolled her eyes before grabbing your hands. "Let's go! I need some tequila!"

Quickly all four of you were by the bar, taking shots of cava (Spanish wine) instead of tequila. Well, you watched them take shots of cava. You may not be having the best day in the world but you were smart and sober enough to know that you and alcohol was not a good mix right now. And all the pleas of these girls could not convince you to do it.

Soon enough, you were all on the dance floor. The club couldn't be more of a club: sweaty bodies dancing on each other, old 2000s' music thrumming so loudly that you would think it was coursing through your veins, neon lights flashing rapidly across the room.

You... you were a vixen, dancing your way through all the bodies, relishing in all the lingering eyes you had captured. Every move you made was unintentionally alluring; your long tresses grazing your skin seductively, sticking to your skin at times as the humidity of the club made you shimmer in the flickering lights while you controlled the pulsing rhythm.

Lily, Heidi, and Alexandra watched in a shortly-lived awe before their eyes widened as a guy behind you edged closer to you. You could feel his breath brush pass the nape of your neck while the heat of his body began to circle you as his chest neared your back.

You couldn't feel a damn shiver down your spine that made you feel good as you once did but you weren't sure if you care that much. With the music blaring and your urge to escape reality without a sip of alcohol, you got closer to the man.

Dancing slowly to the music, you moved your ass closer to the man, feeling his hand lay on your waist. Your head fell back on to his should as he began grind his body into you. You squinted at the purple and pink lights floating in the air, frustrated. Why wasn't your body reacting the way you wanted it to?

The man's lips ghosted over the shell over your ear and he whispered, "Let's get out of here, baby."

Your mouth opened to respond but before you could let out a syllable, you felt the man's presence disappear and a hand grab your forearm, pulling you towards them.

You snapped your eyes to the figure, eyes widening slightly at the familiar brown locks, flushed cheeks, and the same chocolate eyes. Only those eyes were far darker. The host of pure craze.

"Carlos–"

"I think she's fine. You can leave," Carlos said curtly, ignoring your call of his name, brown eyes firmly planted on the stranger.

The man, sensing Carlos' anger and annoyance, held his arms up in defence and walked away.

Without looking at you, Carlos held his rigid grip on your arm and hastily walked you out of this club with heavy steps. You could spot the trio of girls nearby whispering their apologies, concerns, and how they forgot to mention they invited the guys.

"Carlos," You called wearily, watching him open the door of his Ferrari.

"Entra," He looked over at the door, waiting for you expectedly as he leaned on the car. Get in.

"What? No, Carlos, let's talk about this–"

"Get in the damn car and then we'll talk about this."

You let out a huff at the absolute resolve Carlos sported on his face. With a clenched jaw, you dipped down into the Ferrari, immediately finding the comfort in the familiar seat. You peered over towards Carlos, who was walking to the driver's seat.

Fucking hell. What had you gotten yourself into?

Silently, Carlos slammed the door shut. He took a glance at you and sighed before reaching out to grab your seatbelt and click it into place. The cologne you had gotten to used to infiltrated your nose as heat radiated off of his body. Putting the car into drive, Carlos was off onto the streets.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The ride to your hotel was fast. Carlos was well over the speed limit and all the buildings zipped past you like lightning. It was unnerving to see the combination of speed, silence, and anger in Carlos but you were lying to yourself if you said you didn't find it somewhat attractive. Carlos' hands firmly on the wheel, his taut jaw, hardened eyes... God, you were awful.

Not wanting to cause any commotion for all the gossiping fans, you both quietly arrived to your hotel room. You both took off your shoes silently by the door. You took a little longer, fiddling with the straps of your heels in hope to by you some time to think of something... anything to say.

With nothing coming to mind, you turned around to Carlos standing in front of you. His brown eyes stared hard at you while he chewed the inner corner of his mouth. You let out a small exhale when you felt his hand caress your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb pulling down your bottom lip.

"Carlos..." You called once again.

Carlos momentarily closed his eyes at the feeling of your breath against his hand. "We barely finished our conversation this morning and you were going to fuck some stranger? Hmm?"

"I–" You wanted to say no. You really did. But you weren't raised a liar. "Yes. I was," You stated almost apathetically. You returned his sharp stare with a pointed look. "What is it to you?"

Carlos sucked in a sharp breath of air. His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you so you were flushed against him. He pushed down the grin that was beginning to form once he felt your hardened nipples against his chest. He dipped his head down to your ear. "Say it again. I dare you. Try it again and see if I won't fuck you and edge you over and over again."

Your mouth fell open at Carlos' declaration while your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. You swallowed all the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, letting out a nervous incredulous sneer. "You wouldn't. You're driving tomorrow."

In addition to the three rules, Carlos had a special one of his own: no fucking the day before driving or throughout the weekend. Because of his addiction to your body and the animal he was, sex expended far too much of his energy and he knew for a fact that his team would be able to tell.

The hairs on your body stood straight and goosebumps began to travel down your skin as Carlos' thumb trailed from your lips to the valley of your breasts. His head tilted to the side, eyes moving from your tightly covered tits to your face. The corner of his mouth tugged up, forming a humoured smirk. "You don't think I will? After the shit you pulled? I made you a promise yesterday, cariño, and I'm going to fulfil it."

You let out a soft exhale. Your heart was racing in your ears. "Carlos... this isn't right. I meant what I said. I can't pretend like everything is fine like you. Besides you said it was open, right? You, out of all people, can't react like this."

Carlos' possessiveness was something you could never entirely wrap your head around. Sometimes it was there and other days it wasn't. He was all over a model yesterday and now he was pulling you away from other men? It was ironic.

The gaze that Carlos held told you there was something he wanted to say, right on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn't say it. No... he couldn't admit it.

But you gladly would for him.

"You're afraid, Carlos. And I don't blame you. You've never had a serious relationship, you never committed, you never fallen in love so I'm not that surprised. But you've got to understand that I can't stay with you like this."

Carlos huffed in amusement, shaking his head shortly after. "You're wrong."

You raised a brow. "Am I?"

He nodded slowly. "I mean you're right about the relationships and commitment," He started, ensuring his eyes were firmly planted on you, "But I've fallen in love."

Your shoulders slump at his admission. Great. This was exactly what you needed right now. "Y-You have?" You asked with a small voice and a want to blare some heavy music through yours ears.

Carlos nodded once again. "At first sight. In a grocery store. There was this girl. She walked in, didn't notice me. But I saw her. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She laughed and smiled with the locals and I thought that for a second I died and went to heaven. I caught her eye and introduced myself. She did the same–"

"Carlos..." You interjected, feeling your heart pick up it's pace once again.

But the Spaniard continued his story. "We complimented each other, we talked and joked. Then we went to bed that same night. It was perfect. And after we finished, the thought of losing someone like her scared me. It was so terrifying that instead of asking her out, like a normal person, I asked her to become a bloody sidepiece out of all things. Can you believe it? I was an idiot... an idiot in love. I still am an idiot. Because she told me she loves me and I haven't done anything about it. Well, till now."

Carlos let out a long exhale, eyes nervously darting across your face, trying to draw any conclusions of your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes. "I hate you."

"What?" Carlos spluttered.

"Kidding!" You broke out into smile. "I love you too, Carlos. Not as much as you though. First sight? You are down bad," You jested, trying to not let all the fluttering feelings swirling in your body burst out of you.

Carlos blinked blankly at you. You were unbelievable. He shook his head at you, feigning a look of disappointment as he pulled you towards the bed. The soft sheets morphed around you, lulling you to a comfort you had been craving ever since you had put on your heels.

You eyed the lust-ridden look Carlos had. "I was being serious, Carlos. You're racing tomorrow. You have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere. Besides, sex after a podium sounds nice," You offered, hanging your arms around his neck as he hovered over you.

Carlos smiled gently at your confession, heart warm at the thought of you by his side. He pushed your hair behind your ears. "As sweet as that is... I was also serious about my promise."

Carlos' leaned in, taking in one last glance of you before pressing his lips to yours. Goosebumps began to swarm every inch of your skin as his hands trailed down your body, finding your hips. If only he knew his tracks the way he knew your body.

You let out a small moan, giving Carlos a new access to your mouth. Your skin prickled with a new wave of heat that was unlike any before. Because this time you knew things were different. He loved you. And you loved him back.

You felt Carlos' tongue invade your mouth while his warm hands had moved to your bare thighs. His grip on your skin tightened as he revelled in the feeling of your plump skin rolling and burning in his hands. All because he touched you.

He removed his swollen lips from yours. The very same lips quirked at your whine. "You know this dress was driving me crazy?" He told you, planting his lips on your neck. His fingers skated up your thigh, inching loser towards your heated pussy.

Christ.

You leaned into his touch, losing yourself as he marked your skin with his love. His lips sucked on your soft skin with a greed the both of you had never felt before.

"Yeah? When? When you first saw me or when I was grinding on that guy?" You teased, running a hand through Carlos' dark brown locks.

Carlos paused, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. His fingers continued to travel, finding the soft and soaked fabric of your panties. "Niña bonita, you sure talk a lot for someone who is so wet from only kisses," He murmured against your lips as he pressed a finger on your cloth-covered folds and lightly grazed your clit.

You gasped at the sharp tingle shooting up your body. "Fuck, Carlos," You sighed, feeling a certain craving begin to settle in.

Carlos sported a grin that you almost wanted to smack off of his face. A feeling which only intensified once he removed his finger from your clit, leaving you breathless as he removed your dress. He sucked in a sharp breath coming across your bare body. "You know... going braless I get," He started while he trailed his finger down the valley of your breasts and towards your pussy. His finger stopped right above your clit. "But no underwear?"

You stayed silent, chest heaving at his touch. You were waiting for Carlos to push you right into the ecstasy you had been bordering on. "Carlos, please."

Carlos smiled at your strained plea, bringing his lips to your stomach. "Your pleasure is my pleasure," He remarked.

You watched as Carlos' head dipped down between your legs, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs. "Fuck, you are soaking, cariño," He called out, eyeing your glistening folds and feeling the heat radiate off of them.

You squirmed at his breath travelling up your spine. "Only for you," You rasped.

Carlos could only feel his heart pace as he watched you clench around nothing. His cock was flushed against the fabric of his pants and his underwear. Fuck, the pain was almost a dizzying as the arousal he was receiving. You were so good to him... oh the things you did to him. Good girls deserved rewards, did they not?

Your mouth fell open as Carlos' tongue laid flat against your folds, taking one long lap at your arousal. You could feel him smile against your thighs. "You taste so good," He murmured before plunging his tongue back into your warm folds.

He explored every crevice of your pussy while you hand shot out to his brown locks, pushing his head further into you. The obscene grunts that echoed in the room after leaving Carlos' mouth were nothing compared to the pace he had taken. He was devouring you; inhaling and savouring your very essence.

You removed your hand from his hair and the back of your head fell into the soft sheets. Your hips bucked against his tongue while soft moans fell from your swollen lips. "So good, Carlos, fuck," you cried out, voice straining from the pleasure.

Carlos took your praise as encouragement, pushing his tongue further into your slick folds while his thumb found your needy clit. He circled the sensitive bundle with a teasing gentleness that sent bursts of throbbing pleasure down your core.

A groan fell from his mouth upon feeling your hand in his hair once again. The slight tremble of your thighs and the clenching of your pussy told him that he was doing everything right. You were on the brink of losing it.

"Cum for me, niña bonita," Carlos urged, thumb rubbing your clit faster and tongue lapping at your puffy folds.

Your hips quivered against Carlos' tongue, thighs tightening around his head as your eyes shut tightly, finding a white light in the dark abyss. Your eyes watered while your mind became absent in your climax. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Carlos!"

Carlos momentarily stopped his actions, watching your face contort in pure pleasure. You looked beautiful. Hot, naturally, but beautiful. The thin sheen of sweat made you glow and your swollen lips with the few traces of lipstick were a hot mess but he loved it.

"No, no, no," You mumbled in quick turns when you felt his tongue and thumb return not a return a single second later.

"I said multiple orgasms, cariño. You can give me another."

Despite your refusal and the slight burn of your sensitive folds, your body liked to betray you, convulsing once again. Your hips trembled against his touch while your fingers grasped the bedsheets tightly.

Christ. Carlos was going to be the death of you.

Carlos greedily and happily watched your overstimulated pussy grind against him involuntarily. By the last quiver of your hips, he gave you a warm smile, mouth lowering to leave a trail of kisses across your stomach. "Well done, mi hermosa princesa." Well done, my beautiful princess.

You gave a tired smile, feeling a little less than beautiful with your sex sweat-ridden hair and skin sticking to the sheets.

"Princesa, are you sure you can handle my cock? I haven't tired you out too much, have I? Carlos queried, half with genuine concern and the other half with a tone that was almost patronising.

You narrowed your eyes before giving him a sickly sweet smile. "Well, you did promise to fuck me. If you can't, then nevermind."

Carlos couldn't tell whether he was proud or tired of your shit. You were clearly tired yet you had a lot to say back. Like he said, you were a firecracker.

With one hand, he removed his polo shirt. His brown eyes bore into yours as he slowly removed his pants. His lips quirked at your sharp intake of air once your eyes feasted on the throbbing bulge in his underwear.

Your heart thudded against your chest while you sat up from your position and inched closer towards him. You looked up at him with big eyes, hand trailing down his taut chest.

Carlos heaved, feeling the you skim past his body hair. His tongue darted out, resting on his lips as he carefully watched you open your mouth and sink your teeth into the waistband of his underwear.

"Fuck me," Carlos muttered under his breath, eyes glued to you while you pulled his underwear down.

Carlos quickly removed his underwear from his feet and in hast movements, pushed you onto your back. He rolled his eyes at the teasing laugh that fell from your lips despite it being the most pleasing sound to his ears.

You looked at the Spaniard hovering above you, hand gently brushing his cheek. You smiled, running a hand through his hair. "I love you, mi amor." I love you, my love.

Carlos held your gaze, chest heaving at your sudden admission. He felt impossibly warm. It was like the first time he had met you all over again. He felt the same way the night you first had sex. He whispered, "Again. I want to hear it again, please."

Your eyes softened and your heart ached at his earnest plea. "I love you, Carlos. Forever."

Carlos stared at you for another second before bringing you into a long kiss. "I love you more."

You let out a small whimper, feeling Carlos' thick cock against your engorged pussy. You watched as his eyes became clouded with lust. Just rubbing his cock against your folds was an obscene high that made the both of you shiver.

The sudden jerk of your hips as his cock rubbed your sensitive and overstimulated clit made you cry out. "Fuck...," You moaned out, "I need your cock, mi amor. Please."

Carlos was so lost in the pleasure it took the slight dig of your nails in his forearms to ground him once again. "Me too, princesa," He grunted, selfishly grazing your clit again with his cock just so he could watch your hips jolt once again. Fuck. Your reaction drove him crazy.

Carlos forced himself to get ahold of himself and focus on pushing his cock into your pussy. Your hands fell to his neck, steadying yourself while a gratifying burn ached through your core. "Me estás llenando, amor. Muévete, por favor, Carlos." You're filling me up, love. Please move, please, Carlos.

A groan flew from Carlos' lips as he fell into your plead, hips beginning to rut against you. Your swollen folds clamped around him, holding a vice-like grip on his aching cock.

Your sweaty skin stuck against one another while Carlos brought this lips to yours, consuming all your lewd moans with sloppy kisses. He pushed his cock further into you, feeling his balls slap against you, making the most immoral and obscene sounds known to man.

With one hand placed on your hip, the other travelled to grope your breast. Rubbing your nipples in a circular motion, a shudder erupted through you, feeling your clit brush against his cock with each thrust of his.

Carlos looked down at you, feeling his cock pulse at the fucked out expression that teetered on your face. You could barely breathe with all the air escaping your lungs as the familiar white light edged near you. You clenched around his cock, signing Carlos that you were close.

"Carlos, fuck. I'm going to.... I'm going to..." You panted, unable to get out the words as the lust rang throughout your brain.

"You're going to cum? Tell me, mi amor, who did this to you? Who makes you feel this good, hmm?" Carlos beckoned, increasing the snap of his hips.

You cried out, right on the cusp of pleasure. "Tú, mierda, tú lo haces. Fuck!" You, fuck, you do.

Everything around you became a blur, your orgasm hitting you in waves of pleasure. Your moans were silent but your body said it loudly: shaking against Carlos' cock.

"That's right. Me. No one el–shit," Carlos cursed, feeling your orgasm in his cock as you clenched around him. A high-pitched sporadic whine fell from his lips, hips stuttering against you.

The both of you moaned as his hot white cum spilled into your walls. Your folds clamped around him, taking every last droplet into your pussy.

You fell against the bed with an exhausted sigh. You felt the bed dip as Carlos did the same. You felt his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You turned your head to the side, raising a brow at the chocolate eyes flickering over you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, cariño. I should've never ever let you be in a position where you felt like a fucking sidepiece. You are so much more than that. The love of my life," Carlos murmured, pushing a greasy lock of hair behind your ear.

Fuck. This was a new side of him you were seeing. The emotionally available one. And you loved it. "Well, as long as I'm not a sidepiece again," You shrugged, laughing softly.

"Never," Carlos confirmed. "You can beat me with those heels of yours if I ever do."

"Hmm... tempting. Although the guy from the club looks so much stronger. Did you see his muscles? So big," You fawned, fluttering your eyes dramatically.

Carlos sighed, shaking his head. An amused smile spawned on his face upon hearing you burst into laughter.

You were going to be the death of him.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[https-florals]

thought that i was dreaming when you said you loved me - j.m.

summary: if there was a contest for the world’s stupidest teenagers, you and jj would take first place.

word count: 3.1k??? i got a little carried away

warnings: a little language. 

a/n: childhood best friends to lovers, a little argument, tiniest bit of angst. WHOLEEE lotta fluff. reading it back, im starting to wonder if it really flows together or if it even makes sense, but i think its cute and i liked writing it!! as always, likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. i adore you all!!

“Can I crash at your place tonight?” JJ blurts out the question, almost like he’s scared of the answer.

The two of you are headed away from a long day of surfing, your hair tangled and a little crunchy from the saltwater. You probably would have stayed out later, if it weren’t for how nasty the waves were getting. JJ had gotten pushed under and scraped against a reef, and you had slipped and landed facefirst into the side of your board, both of your accidents resulting in some pretty nasty cuts. Some old 2000s playlist is playing through the aux, and you’re driving while JJ holds a can of beer to your busted lip. 

“Or..” he swallows. “Maybe until your parents get back? They’re outta town for like another three days, right?

You give him a sidelong glance and push the can away, your lip numb from the coldness. JJ isn’t the type to ask favors, so you’re a little taken aback. You don’t ask questions though; you just nod. “Yeah, that’s fine.” You pause, and then grin, saying, “You scared my daddy would run you off with a shotgun if he was home?”

He huffs and shoves the corner of a towel into your face. “Your lip’s bleeding again, dumbass. And no. He just scares me a little.”

Swatting him away and laughing, you go back to the subject of him staying at your house. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can stay as long as you need. Plus, that gives me a chance to make sure you don’t let those cuts get infected.” You gesture to the raw skin on his torso. 

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” he scoffs, but the way he runs his hand over his side and winces isn’t lost on you. 

By the time you pull into your driveway, it’s started to rain. Beams from the sunset hit the droplets just perfectly, and a rainbow stretches over the cut. It’s so pretty, and if your neck wasn’t so sore and if JJ wasn’t so cut up you would’ve taken the opportunity to pull him out in the rain and force him to dance with you. But he is trying to pick up the cooler and the towels and take it all inside himself, so you run around to the trunk and nudge him away. “Stop! Just grab the towels, you’re too bruised up to lift that.” Wedging yourself between him and the trunk, you set the cooler down on the gravel.

“C’mon,” he sighs, saying your name entreatingly. “No bruise is gonna mess with these.” JJ flexes and grins, and you glare at him.

“Never do that again. If you want to keep me as a friend, you will never flex in front of me again.” You’re only half-joking.

He fake-yawns and stretches, making sure to flex again when you look back up at him. “I know, you can’t even stand to be around a sex god like me.”

You look at him, jaw dropped in faux horror, and shake your head. “That’s it. Maybank, you can go stay at the Chateau.”

“I’ll tell John B you just couldn’t keep your hands off me,” he teases, leaning against you and making kissy noises into your ear.

You are giggling between fake gags, pushing him away gently. “Get your shit and go inside, freak,” you laugh as you tug the cooler into the garage.

Kicking your sandals off by the door,you grab some antibacterial soap, and then check under the sink for peroxide and bandages. 

When JJ comes inside, you’re diluting a little cup of the peroxide with water. Pushing that and the soap towards him, you say, “Go shower and flush the cuts out with that-” you tap the cup- “then scrub with the soap. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but it’ll get worse if it gets infected.”

He frowns, and takes them. “Okay, nurse.”

You both take fast showers, and soon the two of you are back in the living room. You’re wearing borrowed boxers and a big tshirt, and JJ has on the clothes he left last time he came over. Your mother always insists on doing your friends’ laundry, and thank God she does. 

“Sit on the couch,” you instruct JJ, pouring some antiseptic onto cotton pads.

“I can do it myself,” he huffs, but he doesn’t make any more complaints when you climb over him and straddle one of his legs. In fact, he’s staring at you with a kind of awe in his expression. 

“Lift your shirt up,” you command, looking at him with a stony expression.

He rolls his eyes, but obeys, hands a little shaky as he pulls up the fabric and you begin to clean the wound.

JJ hisses at the stinging, his muscles contracting and shifting under your fingertips.

You shush him and readjust so you’re sitting a little higher on his thigh rather than his knee. “Breathe, JJ.” Mentally, you’re telling yourself to breathe too. You’re just helping your best friend. Your heart shouldn’t be racing like it is.

One of his hands balls into a fist, and the other lands on your waist, grasping the worn fabric of your tee. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his lips are parted as he tilts his head back and groans.

You’re shameless in the way you’re staring at him. Maybe you shouldn’t find him in pain so very attractive, but- you’re just observing. You’re not even paying attention to what you're doing anymore as you wipe the cotton haphazardly over his cuts; you just watch the way his jaw tenses and relaxes. He opens one eye, and you jump slightly, heat infusing into your cheeks.

“Distracted?” he teases.

You scoff in response, bandaging up his cuts and climbing off of him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

JJ doesn’t press it any further; he just smirks and leans back onto the couch.

It’s getting late, the cloudy sky turning deep, dusky amber with the setting sun. It’s still raining, harder now, and JJ has the weatherman on TV as you throw together a quick dinner. It’s a three course meal of pizza pockets, some sliced up cucumber and ranch, and a pack of oreos split between the two of you. After some bickering, you settle on a movie to watch together. It’s some old rom-com JJ is obsessed with it, and you have never even heard of it. 

You’re still whining through the first twenty minutes; saying, “A Christmas movie? It’s not even Christmas!”

He shushes you, putting his arm around your shoulders and giving you a playful thump on the head. “It’s got John Cusack in it. Everybody loves John Cusack.”

Sure enough, by the end of Serendipity, you decide you love John Cusack. “I feel a little bad for his fiancée,” you yawn, slumped against the blond boy beside you. There’s no point where you aren’t touching: shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. “I still don’t understand why he’d just leave her.”

You do understand actually, but you would listen to JJ explain the plot a thousand times if it meant you could stay this close. His hand is on your shoulder, fingers playing with the collar of your t-shirt as he talks about fate. It’s a little poetic, in fact, it’s the most serious you’ve heard him in a while.

“The whole idea about having someone destined for you is just really beautiful, you know. Like someone out there is supposed to love you no matter what. Like, the universe doesn’t give a shit about what you’ve done or where you come from. It’s just in total agreement that you deserve to be loved.”

You’re resting your head on his bicep, watching his expressions as he talks. His blue eyes are like lights across the water, his mouth serious. 

“That just seems so… I dunno, fair. Like that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“J, you know that the universe doesn’t have a say in whether or not you’re worthy of love, right?”

He’s a bit caught off guard, looking you in the eyes now. “What?”

You adjust so you're facing him, legs criss-crossed on the couch. Hands in your lap, you wring your fingers as you begin to speak. “I just want to make sure that you know you…” you pause, and breathe. “You’re worthy of love, JJ. Destiny doesn’t determine that.”

His gaze softens for a split second, and he unconsciously rubs his side, the one bruised. But, then the mask is back up quicker than you can snap. He scoffs, moving his arm away from where you're leaning against it. “I know that. None of the Pogues are getting more love than me,” he smirks, but its a little half-hearted. 

“I’m serious, JJ. I’’n not talking about fucking around,” you sigh. 

He says your name a little rough, a little annoyed. A plea for you to stop. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have with you. Especially not right now. “Don’t start with the mushy shit,” he coaxes, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

You stand up, your temper a little hotter. “It’s not mushy shit! It’s the truth, and I’m not gonna sit here while you feel sorry for yourself, acting like you don’t deserve every single good thing.”

“I’m not acting sorry for myself!”

You’re on a roll now, and JJ can’t stop you now. “You so are! You won’t let anyone get close, cause you’re so scared that they’re gonna hurt you.”

He stands up quick, almost knocking you back. You stare up at him, his face a mere handbreadth away, but you don’t back down. “I’m not gonna bet on a race that I know I’m gonna lose,” he says, voice low.

“Love isn’t- it’s not- you can’t win if you’re more afraid of losing!” You’re not even sure if you’re making sense at this point. You don’t really know what sparked this little flame in you. Maybe it’s your PMS, or maybe it’s the rain making you antsy.. Maybe it’s the years or worrying, all the times he has done something reckless and stupid and kept you and your friends up all night. Maybe it’s the blatant disregard for his own wellbeing, or the way he ignores your questions about new cuts or bruises. Now, everything is spilling out, in words, in tears. “You never even give it the chance!”

“It’s just not in the cards for me, okay?”

You start to hit his chest, but he grabs your wrists and holds you steady. “It’s just how it is, and I’m okay with that,” he says, trying to infuse a brightness into his voice.

You snatch your wrists away, and yank your blanket up off the couch. “I don’t know if you’re- I don’t know, blind or just plain fucking stupid.”

His eyebrows furrow as you walk away from him. “What?”

“I’m going to bed.”

He says your name quick and a little strained, but you don’t turn to look at him. You disappear down the hallway, leaving JJ to slump on the couch, alone.

It takes no more than twenty minutes for the blond to come slinking into your bedroom. JJ whispers your name as he cracks open the door, but you don’t answer. He can't tell if you’re really asleep yet, so he just slides under the covers next to you, like he used to when you were kids. You still have the same full bed, and your sheets still smell like salt water and coconut shampoo. When your breath hitches as his hand comes to rest right by your back, he knows that you’re awake. 

“Do you really think I’m stupid?”

“Yeah.” You don’t move, voice muffled against your pillow. 

JJ lays parallel to you, almost painfully close, but not touching. “Come on, talk to me.”

You huff and roll over to face him. “Why aren’t you sleeping on the couch?”

“It’s scary as hell out there alone. Y’all got too many windows.”

Just like that, any animosity dissipates. “You’re supposed to be the man, JJ. S’posed to protect me.” You’re clutching a stuffed animal to your chest, and you push it into JJ’s. It’s an old battered dolphin pillow pet, and his hands close instinctively around it. It’s sat on your bed since fourth grade, and the stuffing isn’t as fluffy as it used to be. He remembers when you first got it. “Mr. Melon’s feeling a little flat,” he comments.

You nod, but are silent, watching the tendons in his hands and the bones of his knuckles. In fact, you’re a little shocked that he remembers the stuffed animal’s name.

“Remember when we used to have sleepovers like, every night?” JJ asks, a little laughter in his voice. “I never understood why your mom was so happy to have me over on school nights.”

There’s a twinge in your chest. You understood. Even during the worst of you and JJ’s childhood arguments, your mom would coax you to invite him over, and she’d patch up his cuts and wash the dirt and blood stains out of his clothes.

“I miss our sleepovers,” you sigh. The two of you have scooted closer together subconsciously, the only barrier being Mr. Melon.

JJ nods, and asks, “Why’d we ever stop?”

You smile. “We got old, J.”

He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry.”Who cares? We’re old now, and look at us. Having the time of our lives. We could be ninety and still be the funnest people in the OBX.”

“Most fun,” you correct with a grin.

“Hey, y’know I have a shitty English grade,” he answers, playfully punching your upper arm.

“My mom was scared I’d fall in love with you,” you comment, a little off-subject with a shaky smile plastered across your face. “She always said I’d fall head over heels, and that you’d be the biggest heartbreaker in the county.”

JJ’s face gets serious quick, faux solemnity all in his eyes. “A real concern,” he says, deadpan, “For mothers everywhere.”

“She was right about you being a heartbreaker! Remember that poor touron from the other weekend?”

He scowls and shakes his head. “I made it very clear that it was a one night type of thing.”

It makes you think of your argument from less than a hour ago. If love was in the cards for any of the Pogues, it had to be JJ. Girls tripped over themselves just so he would notice them. But, you laugh, shove him in the arm, and switch the subject. “Remember when you fought John B in here and broke my lamp?”

“Wasn’t that like, what, fifth grade?” 

“Yeah. It was my favorite fairy lamp, and you bumped into it and her head broke off!”

You're both giggling, the tiredness setting in. “He called you a bitch! That was a big bad word back then,” JJ laughs, blond hair tangled and messy as it falls across his pillow.

Your eyebrows quirk up. “You call me a bitch all the time now.”

“That’s different,” he waves his hand to cut you off. “But then? I couldn't let him mess with my girl.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you kick yourself mentally for being so damn cliche when you feel it.

The two of you keep exchanging stories, thunder rolling and the lightning lighting up your room every few minutes.

“So, old-fashioned slumber party with the whole gang tomorrow night?” JJ proposes, his goodnight, his eyes barely open.

You nod and smile, then you do your best Pogue handshake the two of you can manage while lying on your sides. 

Your eyes drift close, and after a few minutes of silence filled with JJ’s breathing and the sound of your heart, you say, “My mom was right about another thing.” JJ takes a moment to process, cracking his eyes back open to look at you. Yours are still squeezed shut because you're scared to look at him. “About me falling in love with you. It was inevitable.” You’re shaking, but it has to be said. You have to at least get it out there.

His mouth goes dry. 

The silence is killing you, but you don’t dare look at him.

“Like destiny,” he finally says, tripping over the first word.

A warmth spreads through you, heat in your cheeks and heart. “Exactly like destiny.”

When you finally get the courage to look at him, he’s staring at you like you’ve peeled back your skin and revealed solid diamond underneath. Awestruck, maybe a little fear in that deep blue.

You can hear your own heartbeat, and your breath is shallow and short. His, in contrast, is deep and slow.

“She was wrong about one thing though.”

You wait for his answer, lips parted as you watch his gaze go from your eyes, to your lips, and back to your eyes, down to your lips again…

“I could never break your heart.”

Your cheeks heat when he traces a line from the end of your eyebrow, down your cheek and jawline. It’s a ghost of a caress, almost like you’re some holy relic that he thinks will heal him.

You start to backtrack, feeling a little embarrassed, a little scared “J, you don’t- don’t have to say something you don’t mean.” 

JJ draws his hand back so fast you jump, and he sits up and scoffs. “You think I’m bullshitting you?”

Your stomach drops as the sudden shift in emotion, and you nod hesitantly.

His jaw clenches as he turns his face away from you, and when he looks back at you his lips are pressed into a firm line. You’ve seen this expression only a couple of times, and only when JJ is on the brink of tears. In fact, his eyes seem a little glassy when he starts to speak. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” he snaps. 

“J-”

JJ waves his hand to cut you off. “No. It’s my turn to talk.” His voice does that thing where it gets a little higher, stress peeking through the cracks in his pitch. “Y’know how you called me blind earlier? You’re the blindest person ever! Everybody else sees the way I look at you except you!” he cries. His hands push anxiously through his hair. “It’s been you. Always you. As long as I can remember.” The way he’s looking at you practically sets you on fire. You can see it now. All those years of childhood crushes, pining and overthinking are evident in his eyes, like a storm at sea. “You-” his voice breaks fully now, and he covers his mouth with his fist before breathing and continuing. “You were the first person who made me feel like I was someone. Like, loved. You really made me feel loved.”

“Always have, always will,” you blurt out.

That’s when the dam bursts, and JJ begins to cry. You sit up and throw your arms around him, and his hands grasp your shirt like you’re a lifeline. He’s murmuring your name like a prayer, over and over like he’s trying to do penance. Before you can even begin to console him, he kisses you quick and soft. 

“Is that okay?” It’s so sweet, a side of JJ you hadn’t seen since you were little kids. Since before you had burdens and before the world got scary. 

“More than okay,” you whisper back, utterly melting against him. When he kisses you again, you can feel him smile, and feel the dampness from his eyes on your cheeks.

JJ can’t believe that you’re kissing him back, and he wonders if he’s dreaming. When your hands shift into his hair, he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. It has to be fake.

Almost like you can read his mind, you pull back. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you assure.

His smile is so wide, you think it’ll get stuck like that. “You’re gonna have me around forever,” he says. “That’s a promise.”

“It better be, Maybank. I kinda like you.” You cuddle up against him, head on his chest, grinning profusely.

“I guess I really do have to tell John B you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” he jokes.

“Shush! You’re gonna ruin the moment!”

[kyouxa]

Diabolik lovers Lost Eden: Ayato & Laito Sakamaki (short stories)

Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! Scans provided by: @yuikomorii​

Ayato Sakamaki

That night, Richter visited the mansion for the first time in a while. Never before I would have thought that the man whose face I never wanted to see again, was the one I would end up choosing as my guardian. My brothers, even the Mukami guys… they looked very surprised to run into his face as well, not that I cared though. 

In any case, I just didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes I already made in this world. But thanks to her I’ve already become a different person from back then.

According to Richter’s report, the demon world itself seems to gain stability. He also mentioned that Eden’s restoration has become slightly better and that the familiars of those Mukami guys have come to help. Holy shit, after hearing all of this I couldn’t help but let my inner self get overwhelmed by relief. 

As Richter finished his report, he immediately left the mansion and I could finally return to my own room. And just as I opened the door I saw her sitting by the window, reading a book as she slowly raised her face.

“Hm… ? Is Richter-san already back on his way home? Don’t you usually have a longer talk with one another… ?”

As she spoke to me, I approached her and started to smell a calming scent. As I grabbed her hand to move her up from the chair, I couldn’t help but immediately hug her afterwards. The book she was holding in her hand instantly fell onto the floor with a thud. 

“Just outta curiosity… but did you happen to take a bath while I was gone?”

She nodded to my question and I started to smile at her in response.

“Heh, so you’ve prepared yourself already? If that’s so, then…”

As soon as I spoke those words, I pushed her down onto the bed next to me. Blocking her flustered face from uttering something, I laid my hand over her lips to keep them closed. 

While I started kissing her continuously in various spots of her neck, I disarranged her negligee slightly. And like usually, when my face is already close to her neckline, I might as well get a bit of her luxurious blood out of her dainty neck. Just when I was about to get to it, she stiffened up a little. Noticing this, I suddenly got an idea and gently licked over her neck. “Kya!!”

She was very surprised by my action and therefore let out a small scream. I guess it was pretty unexpected after all. 

“Kuku… did you think I was about to suck your blood? You fell for it, didn’t you?”

Right after I said that, I teasingly started licking her ear this time. She lets out another small scream and turns around as if I had just tickled her. I was intrigued by her unusual reaction, which is why I started to really tickle her body this time.

She busted out laughing begging me to stop while she tried to escape from my tickling attack which just made me wanna tickle her even more. If I was already given the choice I might as well do it as thoroughly as possible. 

“I’m not letting you go! At least not until I’m satisfied…”

She continued to roll around the bed for a while, trying to resist until she rapidly became obedient and calmed down. “Hm? What’s going on? Surrendering? How boring…”

Just as I was about to move my hands from her, she unexpectedly turned the situation around. “Wha–! What are… hahahaha!” 

Of all the things, I didn’t expect her to take advantage of me taking off my hands for a second to gimme a tickle counterattack. Seeing me burst into laughter made her laugh as well. “Stop already, will you!? Hahah! Shit! Chichinashi, move… !” 

Receiving even the slightest bit of retribution I immediately became serious again and got my revenge through tickling her body. She tried with all her power to go up against me and return the punishment . 

And, just for a brief period I was sure the laughter of both of us was echoing through more than just the room. To be honest, it would’ve been easy for me to get out of this situation and resist her. And yet, the reason why I go along with such a trivial battle is because I would give anything to keep seeing her carefree smile, even if it’s only for a bit longer. The fact that we can both laugh together like this makes me feel happy and maybe that’s because I’ve grown a little since then. 

Laito Sakamaki

I’ve returned to the human world in order to finish my school life as a senior high student. I never thought I would have to return here every day again. “Haa… I’m sick of reading this, I wish those tests would finally disappear for good.” While I started to comb my hair out of boredom, my girlfriend who’s sitting next to me continued studying in silence until she replied that it cannot be helped and I should continue reading. 

“Come on, Bitch-chan. No need to be such a serious and straight-laced person, no?” As I said those words, I gently put my arm around her back and started to lightly embrace her waist. Even though I saw a faint blush on her face, she reminds me that she is busy studying right now. 

“I know that.” But, despite that, I started nibbling on her ear. Perhaps this has always been my normal life no matter to what extent. 

To even think that I begged for death because it was unbearable to keep on having these powers in my state… but that is beyond doubt the absolute truth and I totally understand that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the power of the World Tree. The only difference from me back then and now is that I am finally able to accept that reality. During that time, my power was too strong for me to handle, I wasn’t able to come to grasp that reality. And even so, I deserved a second chance. Ironically, due to her help I could finally accept the distortion within me and become more straightforward at the end. I held up my face close to her chest in a way of telling that I love her. 

“This is all thanks to you that I can exist like this.” However, she doesn’t reply to me. “Are you agreeing with me if you’re staying silent like this?” 

It was a calm sigh that she returned to me that made me understand the answer to my question. 

“I guess I was too reckless, no?” She showed a bitter smile as I examined her expression. As I observed her tiny body calmly from top to bottom I was shaken by a sudden feeling of satisfaction. And yet there is no way to help the fact that this world is slowly going to destroy itself. I have been told that alongside my resurrection, the world tree has been new-born but started to shed its leaves ever since. Even though it’s all said and done this is happening just as he wished for. He knew right from the start that I wasn’t ever capable of being the vampire king. 

“No matter how far I move on with my life, I will always be right in the palm of his hands.” With those words escaping my mouth, I closed my eyes. It’s still unimaginable to me that I used to be a different person before, but… all I needed in the end is someone like her to accept me as I am. That is because I am Adam and she is Eve. – And no matter what will become of this world, I’m prepared for it. 

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY VII. — ROLEPLAY

cw: Fluff, Romantic Dirty Talk, Aged-Up / Pro-Hero Time-Skip, Implied Cunnilingus, Attempt at Humor, Sexual Roleplay, Fem! Reader. 18+ Only!

author's note: Another fic that's tailored to one of my friends. I think Tenya's really romantic and has the potential to be one of the swaggest lovers in the whole world. Anyhow, enjoy!

word count: Approximately 1.5k words.

Today was not your motherfuckin’ day. 

Work was miserable. Villains running amok—three bank robberies, one hostage situation, and a group of loser thugs harassed a poor old lady by attempting to intimidate her into giving them her purse by doing a sad attempt of “the worm.” So many other things, too, it didn’t just stop at your duties. You don’t even want to remember the horrors of the exploding fax machine at your agency. Who even uses fax machines anymore? 

Whatever. All that mattered now was that you were home, slipping off your shoes by the door and stretching your back until it popped loudly. A satisfied grin started to spread across your lips, only growing wider whenever you stepped into your genuine home and started walking towards the living room. You’re positive your husband’s already here—he’s sent you updates throughout the day, all of them regarding dinner plans or simple texts stating how he cherishes you. It’s endearing, and you’re almost itching at the fingertips to wrap your arms around his shoulders to squeeze sweet nothings into that warm brain of his. That grin on your face was reaching your ears, so you sped up and basically slid yourself into the living room by the skin of your socks. 

Tenya was sitting on the couch, a small fire cooking in the fireplace. The room felt so cozy, like a thick sweat enveloping your body, and you immediately sighed. Oh, yeah, you’re so glad to be home. He looks so cute sitting there, an open book in his hands while he reads. You wonder what he could be reading—but, honestly, you’re currently more curious about if he could wrap those hands around your waist and draw you in for a passionate kiss to help soothe the miserable events of the day away. 

A chuckle bubbles in the back of your throat. 

“Ohh, Tenten. How’s my lovely darling boy?” 

You feel Tenya jolt a little underneath your touch, underneath the hands that slither over the round of his shoulders from behind the couch. He clears his throat, closing the book before he tilts his head far enough to meet your gaze. Those blazing red eyes make your breath hitch, but then that beautiful smile breathes wind back into your lungs. 

“Ah, hello, dearest. I didn’t realize you were home. With the messages you sent me, I figured you’d be caught up for another few hours.” 

He leans forward to place the book atop the coffee table directly in front of him, dragging your fingers along until your elbows rest against the couch. 

“Nah, one of my bros helped me out by fighting the fax machine. Turns out there was some sort of Quirk interfering? A misfire? A, um, fax machine ghost? I can’t quite remember the reason, but I didn’t have to deal with it. So I’m home now.” 

Tenya pauses, more than likely taken aback, but then hums with a small nod of his head. 

“I see! How curious. Well, regardless, it’s great to have you back here.” 

You hum as well, removing your hands from Tenya—but making sure that you slide against his smooth shirt so very slowly—and round the couch until you’re standing in front of him. 

“Back home with my dashing husband? How lucky~” 

The fire crackles whenever you let your body sink down onto the couch, a coy smile batting its lashes against your cheeks while Tenya watches you with an intrigued but earnest expression. You yawn, patting your hand against your mouth before you sigh out wistfully. 

“What a shame, though. I wish that I had someone to tend to me. You know, someone who could just help me get outta these clothes and feel good.”

It’s like lightning flashed before Tenya’s eyes because he immediately blinks, stiffens, straightens his back, and then slowly returns. He seems to flush, a shadow that falls across the bridge of his nose before he cutely glances away with a bashful tilt of his mouth. One of his hands stretches forward, finding a home atop the center of your thigh. His digits curl before they squeeze, which elicits a soft little sigh from you. 

“Yes, I think you deserve someone to tend to you. Why don’t you let me fill that position—if you think I’m worthy of it?” 

There’s a hint of nervousness coating the edges of Tenya’s question just like always, so you drop a hand to his hand and give it a little pinch. His head swivels around to face yours again. 

“Of course. How could I ever live without my dutiful butler to pamper me?” 

More and more, those red gems boring into your soul begin to kindle and spark, filling with oxygen and growing louder. Tenya moves forward, pulling you deeper into the rings of his fire, and you let yourself fall. Passion crosses his face, determined, before he begins to saddle down to his knees on the floor. 

“What kind of butler would I be if I didn’t perform to my fullest abilities for my Mistress?” 

A shiver traces down your spine, something that takes your reins and makes your legs part. Tenya glances between your knees, understanding etching into his features while he attempts to slot himself through. His hands are running up and down your legs, finding ways to let those flimsy columns find homes in his fingers before they start to breach towards the band of your bottoms. Tenya’s looking at you carefully, seemingly reading your expression to make sure he’s not overstepping any boundaries. He always does this, so tender, and you chuckle before you comb one of your hands through those midnight blue locks. 

“You never fail to impress me, dear butler. You’re always so hard at work. Surely you must be hungry?”

Tenya’s fingers finally break through the band, hooking underneath the fabric before he oh-so slowly begins to peel them down your frame. You lift your midriff a little so it’s easier for Tenya, and he nods at you. 

“Thank you. Of course, Mistress. I can’t risk slipping up on my duties. I also can’t possibly ask for you to offer me something to eat.” 

You shake your head, lowering your body again but crooking your knees so that Tenya could fully slide your bottoms off of your ankles. Those smoldering expressions crossing his face make him look so intimidating, but the fireplace brings you into reality, flickering and casting shadows throughout the room that make Tenya seem so ethereally beautiful. A thunder in your heart makes you painfully aware of the heat that’s dripping down into your groin like a broken faucet, leaking and puddling all over the couch until you can feel it in your toes. He’s so good to you, and you can feel the love in your heart clench and flip like turning tides. You want him, need him. The words leave your mouth. 

“Oh, dear butler, take what I have to offer. Enjoy yourself, lose yourself. Feast, please, pleaseee?” 

Each word becomes less cohesive, crossing the territory of being mindless pleas and begging that make you feel like a lost little kitten pawing at their mother’s swollen tummy. Tenya seems to go insane. Conflagrations, flames that could destroy the universe, consume him and he groans before he obeys. 

“As you wish, my Mistress.” 

The last syllable is nothing but a low growl, something feral and wild, and you have to toss your head back into the couch and close your eyes at the drugs that shoot through your veins. Psychedelic, addictive, so many words that can’t even begin to describe the hallucinations Tenya’s sex fills your head. Tenya just uses those large hands of his, those mitts that could engulf your whole body if you let them, to rest against the inner dips of your thighs and spread them apart. He starts to scoot closer, shoving himself in as much as he can before his knees bump the couch and he grunts. You whimper. 

“Butler, yes, I need you so bad. I want you, I want you, I love you.”

Tenya’s head finds its destiny between the swell of your thighs, his hot and misty breath fanning across the slick and juice that trickles between the slit of your cunt. He makes another sound, too low to identify, but it makes your head spin whenever he whispers out in that husky voice, 

“Mistress, I will make you feel good. I will show you how much I worship you.” 

Nothing spills from your mouth but a frothy moan before Tenya’s head is gone, buried in your cunt, that flat tongue of his finding its new owner atop your throbbing and erect clit. 

“I am forever at your service, Mistress, my love.” 

And Tenya’s lost to sea. 

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 7

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Monday Night Raw

Two hours earlier

Nobody’s POV

“What do you mean I’m suspended?!” Tia screamed as the COO of WWE Paul Levesque cleared his throat.

“I didn’t stutter Tia, you’re outta control. I have given you chance after chance. Last week you almost injured Bayley, you’ve been acting irrational lately and I just think you need some time off to regroup.” Paul said sternly as Tia seemed to be becoming unglued.

“You can’t take this away from me,” Tia pleaded as Tom walked and went to stand next to Paul.

“Tia, your actions have taken this opportunity away from you,” he said as Tia began looking around in a panic.

“This is a mistake,” she whispered feeling her dreams slipping away.

“Then what is this I hear you were harassing Jey tonight?”

“What! I ain’t harassed him. We know each other on a personal level. Did Jey tell you that because if he did, he’s lying!” Tia screamed as Paul shook his head.

“No, Jey didn’t tell me, Tom did. He saw the whole thing. Jey actually tried to play off the seriousness of it but I’m not. You need to get some help Tia,” he said sternly as Tia frowned at Tom.

“Why are you in my business Tom? Look, I don’t need no help, I’m fine.”

“Tia, even after Jey told you to stay away from him you purposely followed him. You just Ignited a confrontation with your sister as he once again tried to deescalate the situation.” Tom said as Tia scoffed at him.

“So, you kept instigating it?” Paul asked as Tia refused to answer.

“Yes, she did and all with a smile on her face.”

“Tom shut up!” Tia screamed as Paul stood up and adjusted his tie.

“Nobody that works here will be sexually harassed or harassed in general. We are up from under Vince’s thumb, and everyone will be treated equally and have a safe work environment,” Paul said as Tia was seething.

“I ain’t did nothing,” Tia protested.

“Sixty days Tia and you will be on the NXT brand when you return. I really hope you can turn this around because another incident and your gone.”

“You can’t do this to me,” Tia cried as Paul sighed, walking over to try to calm her down.

“Tia, use this time to get yourself together. Actions have consequences and I can’t put my talent at risk. This time of reflection will give you and Roman a chance to work out your custody issues as well,” Paul said trying to be sympathetic.

“Yes sir,” she whispered as Paul walked out leaving her alone in her thoughts.

“I’m losing everything…It’s all her fault,” Tia cried as running out of the room bypassing people in the hall, just wanting to get her stuff and leave. Her mother’s words haunting her.

“Tia you dead wrong for what you did and you’re going to reap most of all.”

As she reached the women’s locker room her phone beeped, it was her Where’s My iPhone app. It was alerting her to Roman’s location being close by and he had been there for about an hour.

One night after one of their rendezvous while Roman took a shower, Tia linked his phone to hers to share his location but had hers turned off so he didn’t know she was keeping up with his whereabouts.

“Oh, so have me served custody papers today, then hopped on your little jet trying to tell Ms. Perfect and win her back, huh,” Tia says talking to herself plugging in the address on her phone.

“You can’t get rid of me Roman…Never.”

----

Present Time

Kara’s Condo

Kara’s POV

“Tia, put the gun down,” I pleaded as Roman looked back at me once again, but I was focused on Tia.

“Sorry to interrupt your lover’s quarrel. Wow ten total years together, five of it marital bliss came down to this because of lil old me, huh,” Tia gloated picking up our divorce papers off the table.

“Tia-”

“Kara, it’s going to be ok,” Roman said as I tried not to let my fear show but this fool was in my house pointing a gun.

“Don’t look at her Roman!” Tia screamed as Roman looked back at her.

“Get outta her Kara,” Roman said as I ran back towards the kitchen .

“Get back here or I’ll shoot him.. Do you want to be the reason Logan has no father?” Tia hissed as I stilled in fear having almost made it to the kitchen entrance.

“She ain’t got nothing to do wit this Tia, we can just leave together,” Roman pleaded.

“It has everything to do with her. Turn around bitch!” she hissed as I gritted my teeth trying to hold my tongue as I slowly turned around putting my hands in the air.

“Come on what you tryin’ to do?” Roman asked as Tia chuckled.

“What I should have did years ago…Put her out of her misery..That’ll hit you and Jey right where you stand. Take away the person you both love, it would hurt you, wouldn’t it?" Tia asked, waving the gun at Roman.

“It would, but what about us..If you hurt Kara we can’t be together, tell her Kara,” Roman said as I tried to get my brain to catch up and play along.

“I’m not with Roman, it doesn’t have to go down like this. You have so much going for you,” I said trying to reason with her as she pointed the gun at me, her hand unsteady as I jumped back.

“Aye, take it easy, look me Tia,” Roman said as she seemed to becoming more unhinged by the second.

“Paul suspended me for improper conduct against your little boyfriend for sixty days! One of the higher ups saw it and told. I’m off the main roster, now I gotta to report to NXT after my suspension is over,” she said waving the gun at me.

“What does that have to do with me? You did what you did, Jey didn’t do anything to you.”

“Everything! It has everything to do with you!” Tia screamed as I flinched. “Then this motherfucker here is pining away for you and sending flowers and shit!" She screamed picking up the vase of flowers throwing it at the wall.”

“Tia, take that up with me. You really mad at me, not Kara,” Roman said as she pointed the gun back at him.

“Oh, I was coming around to you, having me SERVED with custody papers just before I leave for work! Really Roman, trying to sue me for sole custody of a child I already gave to you, just to not pay me what you owe me,” Tia said strangely calm, her hand no longer shaking as she held the gun on Roman.

“We can talk about it Tia, just let Kara go,” Roman said as she chuckled.

“Your precious Kara…Always in the way Kara! Hell, you owe me that 50 million I asked for! I gave you something she couldn’t, the baby you always wanted!” she cried pointing the gun back at me as Roman moved in way.

“Move Roman! Let me end this!” She yelled as he refused to move.

“You’re right, Tia, you gave me Logan, our beautiful baby girl and I’m thankful,” Roman said as she nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“I did, and you know I could have loved you better than her. I want to hear her say it because she knows its true!” she cried as Roman nodded.  

“She will,” he whispered as I felt sick to my stomach. Survival was the name of the game and we both had too much to live for.

“Your right, you could have loved him better. You got pregnant and wanted to be a family with Roman, but I was in the way,” I cried as Roman looked back at me as we silently communicated with each other.

 “My own kid hates me; I feel nothing for her!” Tia cried as I took as Roman took a step closer. “Tia, you still got time to bond with her, I can help you,” he pleaded as she seemed to be letting down her defense.

“Kara, your life should have been mine. I was even willing to settle for Jey, but you just had to find out about Roman and me. Then you made Jey leave me….I ain’t got nobody,” she whimpered as a strangled sob escaped her lips.

“Tia, Kara left so we could be together, stuff just didn’t work out,” Roman whispered as she pointed the gun at his head as I screamed.

“Tia, no!!”

“You didn’t give us a chance because you wanted her, Roman! You wanted her!..... Jey wanted her!” She screamed as we stood in scared silence unsure as to what Tia was going to do next. That was until I saw out the corner of my eye the front door opening.

“Kara, I got your food, twins ran up the street to the store for your ginger ale, and some snacks,” Trin said walking in the door on her phone oblivious as to what was going on as Tia turned the gun on her.

“Trin Run!!” I yelled as Roman, and I tried to get the gun from her as  Trin panicked, quickly running back out the door, dropping everything she had in her hands.

“Help! Help us! She has a gun!” I heard her scream as we continued to tussle over the gun.

“Run Kara!” Roman yelled as I ran towards the kitchen to the back door my heart racing as I heard a shot, then silence.

As I opened the door, I heard another shot and instant pain shot through chest as I collapsed to the floor writhing in pain, gasping for air.

It hurt so bad I couldn’t catch my breath, hearing footsteps I tried to pull myself through the open back door but couldn’t move, I was in too much pain.

“Damn, you can’t even die right, can you?” I faintly heard Tia whisper as she turned me over. Her smile chilling me to the core as I silently cried in pain.

“I want to be the last thing you see,” she taunted as I coughed trying to take a deep breath, the pain unimaginable, rendering me speechless. I tried to lift up my head to look in the living room, but I couldn’t.

“Oh, you lookin’ for Roman, huh…..He’s ok, when we fell he hit his head on the end of the table and the gun went off,” She said as I groaned in pain.

“I should have shot him though, all he had to do was love me. You caused this!” she screamed sitting on my chest as I tried to push her off.

“T- T-Tia,” I gasped as she turned my head mushing it against the floor as I cried in relief seeing the knife I had earlier on the floor.

Using the last of my strength, push her off of me, crawling to the knife and laying on it, praying she hadn’t seen it.

“Now is that anyway to treat your sister? You’re supposed to be your sister’s keeper, remember Kara? Remember how we use to say that when we were kids?” she asked kneeling beside me caressing my hair as groaned in agonizing pain.

T-Tia I groaned as she shushed me.

“We even started back saying it to each other when you found out I was pregnant with Logan. Remember how close we had got,” she said as I struggled to breathe through the pain as she grabbed my face, making me look at her. “Do you?!” She shouted.

“Yes,” I finally whispered as she smiled. “Well, now I want you to tell me again. Are you still your sister’s keeper Kara?” Tia asked as I cried out in pain as she pushed down on my back.

“I asked you a question! Are you still your sister’s keeper?!” Tia screamed, turning me over as I held a firm grip on the knife.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, I reached up and stabbed her in the stomach with what little strength I had left.

“Kara,” Tia gasped in disbelief holding the knife lodged in her stomach, looking down at the blood seeping through her shirt and then back at me.

“I’m not… My sister’s….. Keeper,” I whimpered as she smiled pulling the knife out of her stomach and dropping it on the floor beside us gasping in pain.

 “Neither…. Am I,” she groaned, collapsing beside me as I finally gave in welcoming the darkness as I faintly heard Tia moaning beside me in pain.

----

Jey’s POV

“We got to hurry up I got a bad feeling Uce. Kara an Trin ain’t answering their phones,” I said we headed back in the swank gated community. As soon as we pulled in I heard sirens and saw an ambulance. Quickly, I pulled over as they flew past us.

“You right, something wrong, follow them,” Jimmy said as I tried to catch up to the ambulance. My heart dropping to my stomach as we turned down Kara’s street and saw the EMTs rushing inside her house.

“Aye, that’s Trin,” Jimmy said as I sped up seeing she was talking to a cop and was hysterical.

As I slammed on breaks behind the Ambulance, Jimmy hopped out of car running to Trin as I put the car in park.

“Trin what happened?” Jimmy asked as she ran into his arms.

“Tia had a gun! She almost shot me; I heard two shots! She killed Kara and Roman! They saved me and she killed them!” Trin cried hysterically as Jimmy took her in his arms trying to calm her down as I ran past them going inside.

“You can’t go in there the cop!” yelled as I ignored him. Nothing was going to stop me from getting to Kara.  In the living room, I saw one of the parametics working on Roman.

He was sitting on the floor as the paramedic tried to stop the bleeding from his head. Wait where did the other one go? Where’s Kara?

“John! I need some help in here! Dispatch, I got a female with a gunshot wound to the chest, the bullet seems to have gone straight through and another female with a stab wound to the abdomen. My gunshot victim isn’t breathing! We need more units and police backup!” he yelled.

“It’s not Kara…. It’s not Kara,” I whispered over and over slowly waking, past Roman not even caring what he was trying to tell me.

As I walked into the kitchen the air left my body as my worst fear had been confirmed seeing the paramedic performing CPR on Kara’s lifeless body.

“Kara,” I said in shock, walking closer to be sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

“Baby,” I whispered kneeling beside her as the other paramedic that was working on Roman, rushed in and began working on Tia.

I glanced at her as she smiled grunting in pain.

“She’s dead Jey,” she rasped as I looked back at Kara in disbelief.

“Look, if you going to be in here, I need your help,” the paramedic said as I nodded. “W-whatever you need,” I said has he guided my hand to Kara’s chest. “She’s losing a lot of blood I need to you apply pressure here with this towel,” he said as I followed his directions.

“What’s her name?” he asked as I tried to wrap my head around the fact Tia shot Kara, I almost didn’t hear him.

“Kara..Her names Kara ,please help her,” I whispered as he stopped compressions.

“Come on Kara, I need you to breathe for me, ok?” he encouraged tilting her head back and blowing air into her mouth.

“Please breathe baby, we just getting started now. Come on breath Kara,” I cried not knowing if I was coming or going as I faintly heard the other paramedic talking to Tia.

“She’s dead right?” Tia gasped as I growled in frustration and anger.

“She ain’t dead! But you keep talkin’, you will be!” I hissed as she finally stopped talking. A few seconds later I heard the wheels on the gurney leaving the room.

“Yes, get her the fuck outta her before I kill her myself.”

“Kara breath,” I heard Roman whisper as I refused to look at him, focusing on Kara.

This ain’t it, I refuse to believe that. She’s gon’ be ok….

“Kara, come on breathe, we gotta a date remember. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go baby, just breath,” I sniffed refusing to wipe my own tears knowing I would have to stop putting pressure on her wound.

I panicked even more as I the paramedic pulled out an AED machine and  began putting patches on Kara.

“When I say clear I need you to move, I’m going to try to jumpstart her heart…. 1, 2,3, Clear!” he shouted as I moved my hand and Kara’s chest lifted up in the air before becoming still again.

It was like I was watching myself outside my body as he began to count down again.

“Clear!” He shouted once again trying to shock Kara heart into rhythm but this time as I placed my hand back on her chest, I felt it rise and fall under my hand.

“I got her back! He yelled as released the breath I was holding leaning down kissing Kara on the temple

“Kara, its Josh…I love you so much…You hear me I’m here and I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” I reassured her before the other unit of paramedics came rushing in.

 I moved out of the way to let them work. but still stood where I could see her. Everything was moving so fast after that point as I watched them get her stabilized and on the gurney.

“Dispatch, Let the hospital know we’re on the way, we need all hands-on deck. We should be your way in about seven minutes.”

“Calling now unit 7, have a safe ride.”

“I’m coming wit her,” I said as the paramedic nodded in understanding as we made our way through the living room.

“Jey, is she ok?” Roman asked as I looked at him like he was stupid as another a paramedic was helping him on a gurney.

“What do you think?! That crazy bitch shot her in the chest, and it’s all your fault because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants,” I said not sparing him a glance following the Paramedics out with Kara.

“Jey, I’m sorry!” Roman yelled as I tuned him out.

All that mattered right now was Kara…I couldn’t lose her..Not now.

“Oh, my God Kara!” Trin screamed running over as they loaded Kara in the ambulance. “Take the car I left the keys in it,” I said watching them secure Kara in the back of the ambulance

“We right behind ya’ll Uce,” Jimmy said as I nodded hoping in the back of the ambulance holding Kara’s hand. “Aye, it’s me don’t check out on me yet, you hear me,” I whispered kissing her gently on the forehead as the paramedics continued to work.

The sirens wailing as we sped through traffic has me on edge. She had to be ok.. Looking out the back window I saw Jimmy speeding to keep up with us. Is all this really happening?

“You’re going to see a doctor and some nurses. They are going to take her straight to the OR and you won’t be able to go back with her but they will put you in a room in the ER until we know if she’s going to a regular room or ICU.”

“A’ight, they bout to take you for a minute Kara, but I’mma be right there when they bring you back to your room,” I reassured her as I felt her squeeze my hand as I cried in relief.

“Yea, let me know you hear me beautiful. I love you so much.”

Once we pulled up to the hospital everything moved so fast as the nurses and doctors met us at the ambulance. I felt helpless as they took Kara and rushed inside.

One of the nurses was nice enough to walk me to a room. I looked down at my white shirt and my hands stained with Kara’s blood and felt myself losing it. Going in the bathroom to the sink I  scrubbed my hands.

The sight of her blood washing down the drain is something I will never forget.

“Jey,are you in here. we’re here,” Trin said as I came out the bathroom and sat down as she Kneeled in front of me. It seemed like everything was catching up to me.

“She died on me, Trin,” I whispered as Trin looked at me in shock.

“What?”

“At the house… Her heart stopped.”

“Jey,” Trin whispered pulling me in her arms as I growled in frustration.  “Tia was laughin' sayin' she was dead,Trin” I whispered still in disbelief as Jimmy sat beside me and wrapped his arm around us both.

“But they got her back, we gotta focus on that,” he said as I looked up and Roman being wheeled into the room across the hall.

“Kara is fighting for her life and this motherfucker just got a bloody head. Now, I gotta call Kara’s mom-”

“They sent a unit to notify them, her parents know and are on the way.” Jimmy said as Trin wiped my tears.

“I’ll go see if there’s any updates,” Trin said as I nodded, letting her go as she got up and left.

“She says Roman and Kara saved her life,” Jimmy said as I nodded watching her go into Roman’s room.

“I know, I just can’t right think about all that right now.”

“We ain’t gotta say nothin’ Uce, just let me us be here for you,” Jimmy said as we sat in silence waiting for word on Kara.

---

Roman’s POV

“Mr. Reigns we want to keep you a couple days for observation, you have a concussion and I’m going to go put in the orders for a local you’re going to need stitches.”

“What about my wife Kara, she was brought in along with her sister.”

“Mr. reigns your wife is in surgery, and they are doing everything they can.”

“Ex wife-” Trin corrected as I sighed laying back on the bed.

“Trin, I know that…. Look are you ok? I asked as she nodded her head as the nurse left us alone.

“Yea, I’m ok..I just wanted to make sure you are ok and to tell you thank you. You and Kara saved my life.”

“You’re my family Trin, you know I love you.”

“I love you too. I called your mom, and she should be calling you in a bit. I had to calm her down, she was under the impression you went out to maybe clear your head after receiving the divorce papers but you all the way out here in Boston..Why?” she asked as I sighed.

“Trin it’s like I’m losing my mind, I saw Kara on Jey’s Instagram live and just went nuts. Next thing I know, I’m on my jet here trying to find out if they are in a relationship or not. The longer I looked around the house-”

“Looked around the house? I highly doub-” She started the words dying on her lips as she saw me drop my head in shame.

“Trin-”

“You were in the house when she got there!” Trin yelled as I rubbed my temples, knowing how bad it sounded.

“Trin, I was just going to talk to her, then I saw Jey’s shit in her room-”

“Roman, don’t even talk no more you pissin’ me off because you had no right doin’ no shit like that. Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?” Trin asked looking at me in pure disappointment.

“I know it’s insane Trin, but I just love her. We argued, she told me to leave and as I went to open the door there’s Tia standing there with a gun.”

“How the fuck did she know where Kara lived, did you tell her? Did you set this shit up so you could get custody of logan?” Trin asked firing off questions that really hurt me that she would think I would do something like that to Kara.

“No! She had my location; some shit she did to my phone apparently when I wasn’t around. She’s lost her mind Trin,” I said still not truly believing what had happened tonight.

“And so have you breaking into people’s homes and waiting for them in their bedroom,” she countered with her arms crossed as I sighed, knowing she was right.

“You right, I had lost my mind, but I damn sure found it when I opened that door and saw Tia with that gun.”

“Roman do you love Kara?” Trin asked as I felt offended by the question. Did she not see me earlier staring down the barrel of a gun to protect Kara?

“What kind of question is that. I would die for Kara, of course I love her. I just jumped at a gun to protect you because I love you too, I love all ya’ll,” I said as Trin nodded, seemingly in deep.

“We love you too, in spite of everything you’re going to always be family but in order for us all to begin healing… Like really heal…..You gotta make it right, and let it go Roman,” Trin pleaded as I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.

“I know,” I whispered overwhelmed because I knew she wasn’t saying it to hurt me, it was coming from a place of love.

I didn’t think I had that anymore from her or anyone in my family besides my mom, but guess I was wrong.

“If you love her…..Like truly love Kara like you say you do. Prove it… Let her go and let her be happy, so we can all move past this and try to be some kind of a family again,” Trin cried walking out of the room without another word.

I needed to let go but I don’t know how….But Trin was right, if I loved her, I needed to prove it.

“God, if you bring Kara through this…..I’ll do right…I’ll make it right, I swear,” I silently prayed as I felt the world on my shoulder because deep down I knew Jey was right.

I set this all in motion…Everything that happened was my fault.

----

Trin’s POV

Talking to Roman sucked the life out of me but I knew after what Jey had said earlier, I knew I needed to see one other person to see.

 “Excuse me, is Tia Morris able to have visitors I’m her cousin,” I said as the nurse smiled. “Uh, for the moment, but the police are on the way to question her. I can let you see her though, she’s in room 11,” she said leading me to the dim light room.  I frowned quickly seeing Tia sleeping but played it off by smiling at the nurse as I saw her head over to wake up Tia.

“Oh, I’m just going to sit with her. You don’t have to wake her up. I know the cops are going to keep her busy with their questions,” I said as the nurse patted me on the shoulder. “Ok, I’ll leave you to it sweetie,” she whispered walking out and closing the door.

Walking over to the door behind her, I closed the curtain before slowly walking over to her bed as Tia slept.

This bitch in her sleeping peacefully and Kara’s in surgery fighting for her life.

Reaching above her head I got a pillow. Now I wasn’t gonna kill her, but she damn sure was going to feel the struggle to breathe like Kara did.

“Tia,” I whispered, as she moaned turning her head as I pushed the pillow over her face as she tried to push away.

 Hearing the machine beeping fast, I pulled the pillow away as she gasped for air, the machine’s beeping returning to normal.

“What are you doing?” Tia coughed as I put the pillow over her face again as she helplessly tried to push against the pillow again, this time I released the pillow before the machine started beeping faster.

“You’re crazy,” Tia cried as I looked at her with disgust.

“I’m glad you realize that…..But I ain’t gon’ kill you…I just want you to feel how Kara felt as she laid lifeless on the ground beside you while you laughed,” I said remember Jey’s words, which made me even more angry.

Hysterical Trin was long gone now.

Grabbing her by the throat, I got in her face to make sure she heard me loud and clear.

“If you come near Kara, Jey, Jimmy, Logan or Roman again I will kill you. See you batshit crazy but you ain’t met real crazy yet, and I promise this ain’t what you want. I don’t take kindly when people fuck with my family,” I said calmly as Tia moaned in pain.

“Kara’s not your family,” she gasped as I slapped her before I could stop myself. I wanted to beat her ass, but I knew I couldn’t leave marks to give away what I had been doing in here.

Pushing her head against the pillow, I leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“You ain’t got a sister no more…She’s my sister, always have been. You don’t deserve her love or loyalty, or to even be in her presence,” I hissed as she groaned in pain as I pushed down on her stomach slightly, knowing it was causing her unimaginable pain.

“Trin, please.” Taa cried as I ignored her pleas.

“Trin please what? You want me to show you mercy? Did you show Kara mercy when you shot her, huh?” I whispered as she cried.

-----

Jey’s POV

“Uce, something ain’t right,” Jimmy said as I nodded in agreement.

“Yea, Trin been gone a minute.”

“I know she ducked out to see Roman, she had promised auntie she would look out for him, and for her just take care of Logan.”

“Let’s go see if she’s still across the way.” As we walked in and saw the room empty. We went to the nurse’s station.

“Excuse us, our cousin was in the room over there and he’s not there, is he ok?” Jimmy asked as the nurse smiled.

“Oh, he’s been transferred upstairs to a room, they are keeping him a few days,” she said as it dawned on me.

“Fuck,” I whispered as Jimmy looked at me.

“What?”

“Tia,” I whispered as Jimmy’s eyes bout popped out of his head in realization.

“Um, have you seen this woman,” I asked as Jimmy’s phone showed the nurse his screen saver.

“Sure, a real sweetie, said she wanted to see her cousin. I took her to room 11.”

“Um, thank you, we’ll just drop in for a second to see her too,” I said as Jimmy, and I tried to play it cool leaving the nurses station, but as soon as we hit the corner, we took off running towards Tia’s room.

Seeing the curtain closed, we rushed in and there was Trin sitting on the edge of the bed whispering something to Tia as she quietly sobbed.

“Trin let’s go baby, we been looking for you,” Jimmy said as Trin got up off the bed.

“They going to put you under the jail and if they don’t and you fake your way outta this….Just remember what I said Tia, and just know I don’t miss,” Trin said before walking past Jimmy and me.

“None of us were never here,” I said, as Tia nodded, wiping her tears as Jimmy and I left. As we rounded the hall, I saw two cops heading towards Tia’s room.

“Good, put her ass in jail,” I muttered going back into the room with Jimmy and Trin to wait to hear about Kara.

----

Five Hours Later

Jey’s POV

Trin and Jimmy had fallen asleep on the couch, but I still was wide awake. I couldn’t sleep until I knew how Kara was doing, the little updates from the nurses weren’t easing my fears at all.

 Deciding to stretch my feet I walked into the hallway and was met by the doctor.

“Mr. Fatu we just got done about thirty minutes ago,” he said as I took in his appearance, he seemed worried. “Hey, how is she?” I asked almost afraid of the answer.

“She made it through surgery, but the next 72 hours are critical. We were able to stop the bleeding and get the rest of the bullet fragments out.”

“Thank God.”

“She’s a fighter, it was touch and go for a while but she made it through,” he said with a tired smile.

“Thank you so much for everything…..When can I see her?”

“You can see her now; they just took her to ICU. She’s very lucky, half an inch to the right it would have been fatal,” he said as I felt the tears coming. I could have lost her…

“Uh, let me get up my family so we can head dat way,” I whispered walking back to the room to wake up Jimmy and Trin.

The long walk and elevator ride quiet, as we made our way up to ICU floor. As we waited for them to buzz us in Trin reached over and gave me a hug.

“You go in first Jey… Just tell her we love her,” Trin said as I sighed truly thankful for her.

She acted fast, called 911 and got Kara help.

“I will sis, and thank you,” I whispered as she nodded. “No, tell Kara thank you for saving my life,” she whimpered as I rubbed her back.

“I’m going to let you tell her for yourself,” I said as she smiled at me wiping her tears before going to sit with Jimmy.

Walking through the hall I felt anxious I needed to see her. The first room I saw had a cop sitting on the outside of it with the door open.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I looked over and there was Tia asleep handcuffed to a bed.

“Kara’s room is over here, Mr. Fatu,” the doctor said beckoning me further down the hall.

I hated she had to be on the same floor as Tia but at least it was some space between them, but I didn’t want to take that chance.

“Doc, I know she’s not stable but after her parents get here and she becomes stable can she be transferred out to another hospital. The person that attacked her is in here and I don’t feel comfortable.”

“I’m one step ahead of you. Her sister will be transferred when she is stable enough. Until then she will have an officer on her at all times and will be handcuffed to the bed,” he said still not putting me at ease.

I didn’t want Kara anywhere near that crazy nut.

Walking in her room I wasn’t prepared to see her lying in that bed looking so helpless. I went to sit by her trying to be mindful of the wires taking her hand in mine.

“I’m back beautiful, just like I promised. Now about this date, where you wanna go,” I whispered kissing her hand praying she would open her eyes and talk to me.

No response, sighing I reached over and kissed her temple. “That’s ok we can talk later, just rest,” I whispered sitting back down in my chair laying my head on the bed just looking at her.  watching the rise and fall of her chest, just thankful she had made it through the surgery. A sudden moan from Kara almost startled me.

“Kara, you ok baby?” I asked as she whispered something, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying as she eyes fluttered open, then closed back again.

“Balcony picnic date,” she whispered a little louder as I laughed.

“Kara, of all the places I can take you and you want to have a picnic on my balcony in Pensacola.”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” she whispered opening her eyes to look at me as I kissed her hand.

“You can have anything you want loʻu loto,” I said as she gave me tired smiled, still having a hard time trying to keep her eyes open.

“Get some rest, I ain’t going nowhere, we can talk when you get up.”

“I have to tell you something first,” she said as I pulled the covers up a little trying to help her get as comfortable as she could considering the hell she had just been through.

“Ok….What you gotta tell me that can’t wait beautiful?” I asked sitting back in my chair just happy she was awake and was talking to me.

“I love too, Josh,” she whispered before closing her eyes and drifting off back to sleep as I finally allowed the tears to pour from my eyes.

“I love you more.”

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[fbfh]

Curiosity is a Wonderful thing ch. 10

wc: 1.8k

genre: slow burn, little angst, childhood best friends to lovers

pairing: slow burn bff!ben x fem daughter of alice!reader, previously audrey x ben, mal x ben???? yikes!

warnings: political lore and descendants world building from yours truly lol, I think that's it??? minor angst???

summary: determined to figure out what's going on with ben, you remember that many paws make light work.

song recs: dirty paws - of monsters and men, hartebeest - yaelokre, a world of my own - kathryn beaumont

a/n: HI HELLO DADDIES HELLO MY DADDIES HI HELLO also I started watching it's always sunny and every goddamn thing out of charlie's mouth is a vocal stim. I can't go more than two seconds without going HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY. LOOK AT ME GIVE ME EYES. COOL YOUR JETS. NOW GET OUTTA HERE. I love him.

ALSO!!!!!!!! happy 23rd b-day to meself!!!! does a little jester dance while I simultaneously give a thumbs down from the king chair, opening a trapped door and throwing my jester self into a deep dark pit full of lions and poorly made iced americanos.

tags @yesv01@magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads @dustyinkpages @inejsknifes @tulipmagnoliaisme @ev3ningrain @yokolesbianism lmk if I missed you and I'll add you to the tag list yell at me in the notes /j (also my dearest yokolesbianism!!!!! thank you so fuckin much for the feedback!!!!!! based on your tags I assumed you'd wanna be tagged?? just shoot me an ask or message if this is not the case lol <333)

You haven’t given much thought to anything besides your research since it began, but if you had, you suppose you would notice you’ve been holed up in the library for every hour it’s been open for a few days, at least. Each waking moment has been spent pouring through text after text, desperately seeking anything that could prove useful in answering the question of Ben’s behavior. 

The first few books proved to be utterly useless for anything besides sharpening your researching skills. You slam the most recent book closed and lean back in your chair, letting out a sigh of frustration. As much as you hate to admit it - even to yourself - you must begrudgingly admit that you need help. 

You let out another sigh, and stand up. A good long sigh seems to be your only weapon against the inconsolable frustration burbling within you turmoilously. You stretch your aching legs and arms, hoping your blood hasn’t stopped circulating entirely, and throw the window open. You take in a big, deep breath of spring air. 

The scent of gardenia and hibiscus floats along the breeze and into your chest, and you glance down at the flowering culprits below the window. 

Your mind wanders and races in a blurry stumble. There must be some way for you to get information, to get some extra hands on this without getting anyone else directly involved. You never expected to find yourself facing such a fragile, treacherous situation, much less having to navigate it yourself. Without Ben. 

You rub at your aching head, trying to make heads or snails of all this. Your mind reels in a blurry stupor at the dangerous situation your country has found itself in without even realizing this to be the case. You take another big, deep breath. 

“Alright.” You tell yourself with a note of finality, like perhaps if you say it enough things will be just that. Alright. 

There are two heads to this chimera of a situation you’ve found yourself in. Firstly, you have to figure out how to monitor Ben. His words, his actions, if he suddenly decides to shave his head and run about nude. Whatever it is, you must be the first to know. Perhaps if you find a way to stay on top of whatever his next erratic decisions will be, you can find a way to smooth things over, to fix things before they have a chance to snowball wildly out of control. 

The other thing you must consider - arguably, of more importance - is why? Why is he acting like this? As much as you resist confronting the feeling, you can’t shake the sense that this is some sort of political sabotage. It wouldn’t be the first time Ben was caught in the crossfires of political unrest. There was a very tense 8 days when you were both nearly too young to remember where Ben had been kidnapped by a group of radicalist former henchmen. They were convinced that Chernabog was sending them secret messages, and were responsible for the next villain uprising.

This, of course, was untrue and Ben was returned unscathed. The henchmen were understandably sent to the Isle, and Chernabog’s whereabouts are still unknown. There’s some debate over the nature of his crimes, if he’s truly evil or just appears to be scary. You and your mother know right where you stand on the issue - while he appears terrifying, and has incredible amounts of power, you have yet to find any evidence that he wants to cause harm. 

You understand why Overlandians are so quick to fear what they don’t know, but one cannot control their size nor the strength of their power, so your mother has urged the Auradon government to let sleeping gods lie. Besides, Chernabog hasn’t been around for half a century, and won’t be seen for another half century at least, so it’s really the least of anyone’s worries right now. 

You snap from your train of thought, returning to the matter afoot. You must keep tabs on Ben, and find some explanation for why he could be acting like this. You already have so many bites that are far too big, and you have no clue how you’ll chew your way through this by yourself. You’re about to go back when you see a bluebird sitting on the tree branch outside the window. She preens her feathers, enjoying the warm sunlight dappling through the lush green leaves that partially hide her from view. You lean out of the window, your sleeves rippling in the breeze. 

“Excuse me!” You call out. She chirps inquisitively as you get her attention. 

“I do hate to bother you, but I’m stuck in quite a muddling lurch. It’s all quite convoluted you see, and as much as I hate to admit it, I fear I’ve reached a point where I simply don’t have enough hands to handle it all.”

She quirks her head at you, hopping a little closer and lending an ear as you begin to explain the whole kerfuffle. You try to be as concise and clear as you can, but you take after your mother quite well. You get a little sidetracked here or worked up there, and find yourself rambling a great good deal more than you would have liked to. 

By the time you’re just about through with your explanation, you’ve had to pull out a lacy embroidered handkerchief, then soon after, another one for the bluebird. She’s grown quite invested in your woes, and it feels so good to be able to weep wetly over this with someone who shares your feelings. You try in vain to dry your eyes, and she holds her hankie tightly with her feathers, blowing her beak with a loud noise. 

“So you see, this whole thing is quite unusual. I just don’t know what to do, or how to fix things.” You look at her compassionate face, nodding and chirping in sympathy. 

“Do you think…” You begin, “Do you perhaps have any friends that could keep ears and eyes open for anything odd, or relating to all this? If you could possibly keep an ear to the ground - or sky - and let me know if there’s anything unusual, I would be most grateful.”

She nods, tweeting in agreement before you can even finish your proposal. She fluffs her feathers and wrings out your hankie, sprinkling salty tears onto the walkway below and hangs it up on a  branch to dry out. She salutes you, and you wave at her as she flies off to spread the word. 

“Thank you!” You call after her. She chirps back at you, and you watch her land a few trees over, discussing the topic with some other birds in the branches. You grip the windowsill resolutely. This is good. This was a good plan. Animal communication takes a great deal of work on both ends, so as long as no particularly gossipy stoats or chickadees get a hold of this, you’ll be alright. 

Besides, animals generally tend to prefer gossiping with other animals rather than humans. Overlandians never seem to understand the gravitas of the social politics of the forest. Despite the word traveling fast, you can’t shake the feeling you need more. More eyes, more ears, more furry feet and paws and claws spreading the word. You straighten up abruptly, returning to your table. You scribble a hasty note on a piece of paper, and prop it up against your stacks and stacks of useless - in this instance, anyway - books. 

gone for tea, be back in three 

You’re known for ducking in and out for tea now and again, and you’re sure this will come as no surprise to the librarians. You rush down the steps and out of the library, into the grassy courtyard. It feels like forever since you’ve been outside, and you miss leisurely strolls and reading in the dappled sunlight. But regrettably, now is simply not the time for leisure. You walk around for a few minutes, searching and looking until you see a cat lying on a garden wall, bathing in the sun. 

 “I beg your pardon,” you start, and the cat opens one sleepy eye. You take a breath and begin explaining the situation all over again. You’re pleased to find a little bit of the sting is gone this time. Just a little. Soon you have his full attention, and his tail flicks in sympathetic irritation for you, for having gone through all this. 

“So if you could spread the word to some friends, keep me informed on anything you think might prove useful” You ask hopefully. 

He pretends to consider for a moment, then agrees, hopping down from the wall and arching his back in a big stretch. He scurries off to spread the word as you make your way into the gardens for similar reasons. You traipse through the hedge maze, feeling a momentary solace in becoming lost so quickly. Soon you find just what you’re looking for, and after a similar conversation with a mother rabbit, you allow yourself to return to the library. 

You return to your research with more gumption than you had had before. You feel a sense of reassurance - a much needed one, at that - that all these kind animals and their friends and relations had agreed to help you and your cause. Soon after, nearly every cat and rabbit are doing reconnaissance for you. Dozens of bluebirds follow students and linger by windows in hopes of overhearing something useful. With all these ears to the ground and sky, you lose yourself in your fruitless research once again. 

When the words begin to look jumbled and meaningless (and not in the good way) you know you absolutely must call it a day. You close your books and place them neatly in the return cart, scratching out titles from your list of Potentially Helpful Books in your journal. More and more pages have become dedicated to this heart aching mystery, though you have few clues, and fewer leads. You ruminate on this as you begin to head for your dorm, nearly tripping over a speckled rabbit. 

He thumps his foot loudly to get your attention, and you startle. “Oh, hello,” you say apologetically, crouching down to speak with him. You listen intently to what he tells you, your stomach dropping in the early evening light. 

Ben and Mal are on a date at the enchanted lake as you speak. 

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Ten (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. 

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Hope you like this next instalment! It’s a long one, and it’s a flashback, so it feels like a HUGE RISK to shove this in so far into the story. However, this memory of Santiago’s and reader’s is SO vivid in my mind I feel I could basically use it as a patronus charm. Therefore, if you’re at all invested in these two by now, I do feel like the payoff is worth it, and that it will set you up PERFECTLY for the next, concluding chapter! (Also: ooh, intrigue, as we get to see how they were with each other back in their youth, you know?). Anyway, as always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. ILY :-*

P.s. there’s a timeline goof as a song mentioned in this, although recorded in ‘88, was not released until 2015. But we’re just gonna look past that, okay? 😝 In this world it was released early. 

AND I have nothing against Philadelphia!

Word count: 16.6k for this part. (SORRY!)

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Many years earlier

Santiago is tired. Ready to crawl into the cocoon of his bed and draw the covers over his head, refusing to surface again until he’s dragged feet first outta there. Unfortunately for him though, sleep is not on the cards. 

Instead, he has a vitally important mission to attend to. And, in the face of a mission, this particular soldier never settles for anything less than completion. That doctrine is especially true - he has proven time and again - when it comes to taking care of you. 

Tonight, Santiago is tasked with making your birthday a memorable one; or, as memorable as he can muster with the $40 he currently has to his name. 

“Civilian aircraft, man. Where’s a goddamn helo when you need one?” you fruitlessly complain as he nods along in sympathy.

Evidently, sleep is the last thing on your mind. You’d been looking forward to cutting loose for weeks, with this night touted as “the birthday to end all birthdays”. Serendipitously, this was the first time your birthday had coincided with a period of leave since you signed up to serve and, thwarting all that, your connecting flight was grounded unexpectedly.

Santiago feels crushed - on your behalf - that the plans have gone so pear-shaped. 

“One o’ these days, getting shot for the Motherland will gain me some fucking privileges, huh?”

Santiago flinches at that particular addition. He doesn’t like to think about that day. That day’d had him waking up in frequent cold sweats going on a year now. He’d put himself on the line countless times - no problem- but almost losing you had been decidedly different. Had been the single most terrifying moment of his career (and his life) to date, all told. Which sure was saying something considering the hairy situations he routinely found himself in. 

Graciously, your present circumstances are considerably less dire. You’ve still been griping, of course. And, your complaints have not succeeded in changing a damn thing. It is now abundantly clear - if it wasn’t already - that the two of you are stranded for the night. So, here you are, holed up in a dingy and characterless airport motel in Philadelphia. 

It beats enemy fire, for sure… but even so, Santiago is acutely aware of how much you’ve been looking forward to this. To the rare chance to catch-up with your far flung squad mates, scattered every which way across the globe since graduating basic. He knows too, that the anticipation of this reunion had acted as your glue - had held you together - through what had been a particularly brutal deployment. 

“I haven’t seen Miller in months, man. I need to give that bastard some grief soon or I’m going to lose my damn mind.” 

“We can call that pendejo tomorrow,” Santiago soothes, popping a stick of gum and beginning to chew obnoxiously. “Hey. We can even pool our insults, huh? Really get him going.” 

You raise your palms, pressing the heels of your hands into your eye sockets. “Shit. I just miss the fucker, Santiago.” For the first time tonight he hears your voice break, your stoicism cracking apart and revealing your soft middle. 

“I know. I know you do, sweetie.”

Santiago knows how crushed you are. And so, for whatever it’s worth, the man resolves to show you the best night he possibly can, all circumstances considered. 

“Come on,” he encourages, kneeling before you as your lower lip quivers. He plants a hand on your thigh and jostles your leg gently. Meanwhile, you sit slumped on the long edge of the lumpy motel bed, beginning to feel rather more sorry for yourself. “You and me, baby. I’ll make this night special, I swear. Just give me a chance, huh?” 

“How?” you sound, throwing your palms up and gesturing to your dismal surroundings. “This place is barely even a step-up from the barracks.” You eye a particularly suspect stain on the carpet with disdain. “Actually, I think it might even be a step down.”

Santiago’s face crumples obediently in a measured display of sympathy, but honestly, his first instinct is to chuckle. You look so forlorn in this moment, Santiago has to consciously suppress his smile. You are the most stubborn, ferocious, determined person he’s ever met. You are fucking tough. Hell, he’s seen Staff Sergeants buckle in a crisis before you’ve even come close to breaking - and yet here you are. Almost in tears because you can’t make your birthday party. It’s all a little incongruous to him that out of everything, this would be the thing to take you down. 

At the same time though, of course. He understands it perfectly. 

Santiago has understood for a long time now that you possess a (well-concealed) softer side. Knows it better than most others do, in fact. As you’ve gradually allowed him to sneak past your militia-guarded perimeter -only a soldier of his calibre capable of making it, he’d wager - he’s begun to catch more and more frequent glimpses of the achingly soft heart you guard within. If your tough exterior had initially magnetised him to you, it was your soft heart which ensured he’d stuck around.

Solemnly then, he pats your thigh in a consolatory gesture. Of course, Santiago gets it. He knows it isn’t the presents or the attention or fuss which you’ll miss tonight - though they would have gone over well too, he’s sure. He knows that it is your brothers (in arms, if not blood) that you are feeling the loss of. The squad mates you love dearly, and to whom you are loyal with a tenacity Santiago has rarely witnessed. A loyalty he too feels blessed -strictly in the lapsed Catholic sense - to be on the receiving end of. 

Valiantly fighting back glassy tears, you pop your lower lip in a display of petulance as he rubs reassuring circles into your knee. “Philly sucks ass.” 

This time, he can’t quite quash his smile all the way. 

“Philly sucks ass, huh?” he repeats, buying himself time to think. 

Santiago isn’t sure whether you know that for a fact. He isn’t even sure you’ve ever been to Philly before to assess how much ass it does or does not suck. But, he does know that, irregardless of facts, you seem altogether determined to wallow in your self-pity. 

Santiago has noticed this about you. How you always developed an inalienable picture in your head of how you hope things will end up. It’s inspirational at times - your ability to visualise victory, for example, even in the most dire of circumstances, has held missions together. Has held him together. At other times though, it only set you up for disappointment. How could it not, when, through no fault of your own, you cannot reliably manifest the various futures you set your heart on. 

It’s not as though you ever ask for a lot; but sometimes, in your profession, even asking for a little is asking far too much. 

Still, it is brave, Santiago thinks, to hope for things. For his part, he has learned the hard way not to hope for anything much. 

Your shoulders sag in time with his as he exhales a breath and, though your display is dejected, Santiago gathers a soft smile. You are stubborn, that’s for sure, but in him you’ve met your match - or so he likes to think. Santiago is perhaps the only person who could reasonably claim the title of being twice as stubborn as you are, and (while he realises deep down he probably shouldn’t wear that as a badge of honour) he has often pushed his theory to its limit. And so, stubbornly, refusing to give up, Santiago rises to standing. He fishes around in his jeans pocket, yanks out a fistful of dimes and small bills, and brandishes them victoriously. 

He waves them enticingly in front of your face then, but you forlornly swat them -and him- away. However, he knows from the dull, reluctant spark in your eyes when he makes his pitch that he is finally on to something. “I saw some peanut butter cups in the hallway vending machine,” he sing-songs, with a hopeful raise of his eyebrows. He knows fine well they’re your favourite, and he can’t believe he’d forgotten his secret weapon: chocolate. “We can clean them out, take a cab, find some shitty ass dive bar, and have ourselves a sweet ol’ time. Whaddya say?” 

Nothing else had worked, and so Santiago is eminently thankful when a smile finally twitches your mouth. Honestly, he’d been about one attempt away from offering to eat you out all night - and he hadn’t been sure whether that would’ve made you happy, or would’ve resulted in you verbally lambasting him.

On balance, he figured it was probably best that he didn’t risk either kind of tongue-wagging. 

“Fine,” you concede whilst swallowing a mischievous grin, not at all eager to let on that Santiago has finally cracked you. “But don’t you be expecting to muscle in on my Reese’s, understood?” 

Santiago chuckles warmly, slipping into Spanish. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Birthday Princess.”

You snort at your newly bestowed title, playfully adjusting an invisible crown on your head, and you extend your palm towards his to shake on it. The gesture, as Santiago’s palm over-enthusiastically clasps yours, causes dimes and bills to scatter chaotically to the floor. A shit-eating grin etches itself across his face and meanwhile, your boisterous laugh rings out through the tight space. “Shit, Pope. Don’t drop it on this grim-ass fucking carpet.”

“It’s been worse places, trust me.”

“Yeah. Your fucking pocket?” 

“No shithead, I won it from Catfish.”

“And you don’t know where the hell he’s been?”

“The opposite. I shared a bunk with that hijo de puta, I know exactly where he’s been.”

With easy laughter eddying between you now, you both crouch, carefully gathering up the spoils of the latest Pope/Catfish wager to change hands. 

“I really need to meet that guy.” 

“Sweetie, you’ve met him.” 

Your hand brushes Santiago’s as you transfer him a mess of coins, sending a trail of goosebumps shivering up his arm. It always surprises him how soft you feel to the touch, accustomed as he has become to his own calloused hands - and to those of even rougher men than him. 

“Garcia. I swear to you I’ve never clapped eyes on the bastard.”

“You just don’t remember him.” 

“Shit. Well maybe he’s not very fucking memorable. Jog my memory. What did we talk about?” 

His shit-eating grin is back. “I dunno. But I bet you talked for the both of you.”

“Hey!” you protest, batting Santiago lightly -more or less- in the upper arm. 

“I just mean he’s quiet. Takes a while to warm up, that’s all. But he’s a good guy. You’ll like him, I promise.” 

“Okay.” You shove the remaining dime into Santiago’s palm.

“Okay?” 

“He’s clearly special to you, so he’s special to me too. Introduce me to him. Again.” 

Santiago smiles at you, gentle crinkles forming around his eyes. He’s already told Frankie so much about you, and he really thinks the two of you will get on. “Deal.” You both stand, and Santiago once again extends his cash-filled hand towards you. 

With a cheeky grin you chide him, not eager for a repeat calamity, but your tone is fond. “Don’t you dare shake on it, idiota.” 

Your smile digresses to your eyes. You extend your palm to pat him on his stubbled cheek - in a gesture weighing heavily with affection. Your lips animate, and Santiago wonders whether something sentimental might actually come to the fore. 

You whisper, low. “You have thirty seconds to get me my peanut butter cups.” 

He chortles and, for the first time (perhaps since imagining his head between your legs), Santiago is eminently excited to see where the night will lead him. 

Safe to say, he might be dog-tired… but he finally feels like staying awake. 

***

Despite your very vocal distaste for the music, and the clientele, and…well, just about everything in the first dive bar you and Santiago stumble across, the combination of cheap beers and even cheaper shots has succeeded in getting you efficiently merry. And, despite your earlier reticence, you now seem plenty eager to continue the party. 

Considering he could only afford cab fare from the motel to a dead neighbourhood on the outskirts of the city, it wasn’t going too badly, he thought. Though, Santiago had hastily steered you outta the first joint when a group of creeps had started leching on you. He knows you can handle yourself and he wouldda been happy to back you; but tonight especially, conflict is the last thing he wants for you. He figures you’ve had more than enough of that to last a lifetime. That you finally deserve a little peace. So, instead, he links your arm in his to keep your tipsy ass steady as he steers you down the main drag, desperately searching his mind - and scanning the unfamiliar streets - for what to do next. 

His mission, as it stands, is to satiate your threefold desire - for drinks, dancing, and good music. Tricky, given that he is already down to $10 dollars, give or take - and he’ll need that for the cab ride back to the crummy motel. 

Truth is, as he ambles with you for a few blocks, he is running out of ideas for how to show you a good time. What’s more, ever since he first entertained the idea, in his desperation, all his dumb ass can come up with is to offer to eat you out until morning. It’s pretty much becoming an intrusive thought at this point and, as the sordid image of you spread out for him further invades his mind, he quickly tries to blink it away. 

He doesn’t want to be that guy. You receive more than enough unwarranted attention as it is. And besides, Santiago would never want you to misinterpret that the reason he hangs around is to -eventually- get in your pants. 

You are so much more than that to him. Sometimes, he even has to keep his distance, so that in moments of weakness he doesn’t forget it. 

You’d held him at arms length for a while there too. 

Soldiers; not friends. 

He hadn’t won you over, he knew, because of his sparkling wit and charm. You’d been drawn to him because he was competent. Surprisingly level-headed for someone so baby-faced. You’d wanted people you could work with. People you could trust to get the job done; because you had to trust them with your life. 

The two of you have some undeniable chemistry, that’s for sure. At least, on his end, he’d felt something fierce and magnetic right out of the gate. Even so, from the outset, and even as your friendship had deepened, the two of you had seemed to quickly forge a tacit agreement. 

Friends; not lovers. 

You had made the assessment quickly, jointly, unconsciously. After all, under the rather intense circumstances in which you’d met? You’d each needed a friend - a genuine friend - far more than you’d needed a lay. For you especially, as he understood it, the former had been far more difficult to secure than the latter, especially as a woman in a highly-charged cesspit of toxic masculinity. And for him? Well, as talented as Santiago is at gaining connections, he doesn’t find all too many people he is willing to go deep with. To trust - and he trusts you with his life. 

When he’d found you then, he’d grabbed firmly on to you, and had resolved that nothing would get in the way of the friendship you’d forged. Not even - or perhaps especially not - his own… urges. 

Still. It’s not like he’s never thought about it. Not like you’ve never gotten him a tad… flustered. Indeed, as the rhythm of your steps marching in time beside him lulls him into calmness, feeling safe, his mind wanders in precisely that direction. 

So what though? He’s only human, right? Prone to fantasising; like he is now, he supposes, as he thinks vaguely about licking and kissing down your enticing, bare expanse of stomach. About popping the button on those low slung jeans. Shimmying them down over your hips just enough to sink his mouth over the mound of you and suck. 

Fuck. Focus, pendejo. You need something. 

He swallows then, feeling guilty for being such a horndog, and he turns to you. You seem to be perfectly content. To be enjoying the hit of fresh air, the apples of your cheeks sheened, with a subtle glow, from the exertion of your dance moves back in the dive bar. And honestly? Looking at you? As guilty as he feels for thinking about you like that, Santiago can’t muster a single better idea of what to do with you. 

He pushes it down, of course. Chalks it up to being just a tad pent-up following a seemingly endless deployment. That’s all it is, right? His dick is just looking for a little relief, and you are the closest, attractive body capable of providing him a warm welcome? 

Sure, he rationalises. That’s all it is. He can find a girl one night soon and take her home, like he’s done plenty of times before to work out his urges. Except for the fact that seeing you out of those (helpfully) modest fatigues is reminding him you are exactly his type. 

“You’ve gone quiet, Pope,” you frown as he -no doubt- looks at you dopily. “What are you plotting?” 

With your question, Santiago tears himself violently from his thoughts as you interrupt their increasingly feral trajectory. Still, in scrambling for a deflection, all he is able to land on is something else deep and wet. “The Mariana Trench,” he fumbles. 

Hell. Maybe he isn’t quite as smart as he gives himself credit for. Or, maybe all the blood is simply rushing to his crotch instead of his brain - for some reason. 

Even so. He urges himself to get his mind out of the gutter and to focus up. You deserve so much more than bearing the brunt of his accumulated sexual frustrations. So. Much. More. 

You laugh at his response though, oblivious as you are to his inner monologue, even linking your arm into his more tightly - as though he isn’t a huge perv. Your bright, infectious, beer-addled laugh bounces off of the surrounding asphalt and concrete. And, whilst it ricochets off of everything else, it sinks into him, mixing just a little more of you into his generic, rapidly dissolving fantasy. It offers a luminous gilding around the edges of his hazy desire, stirring in a vivid and more golden want than he has strength in this moment to acknowledge - never mind name. 

“Okay, weirdo. Sure. You’re thinking about the butt crack of the ocean? Miller been feeding you National Geographic documentaries again? You guys do know pay-per-view exists, right?” 

“Fine. You got me,” he confesses, your paces slowing as you gradually halt by the crosswalk, the two of you realising you have no particular destination in mind. “That was bullshit. I was actually thinking about what the hell I’m gonna do with you next.” 

Well… That isn’t a lie. Not exactly. 

Santiago looks you up and down where you stand, out of habit more than anything - a result of that now familiar “buddy up” system soldiers make use of to check each other for injuries. Sometimes, with the adrenaline and the shock, you don’t even know you’re bleeding out. This time, thankfully, the only ailment Santiago notices is the goose flesh prickling your skin, and he wishes that he had a jacket to offer you to keep you warm. 

“Oh?” You turn your body in to face him. Sway just a tad, eyes a little bleary, and Santiago instinctually plants his hands around your waist to keep you stable, touching on the smooth, bare skin where your ratty old band tee fails to meet your waistband - by approximately the width of four thick fingers. You shiver even though his touch must be warm. “Okay. Well what are you going to do with me, Santiago?” 

You blink at him then, your eyes wide and - dare he say - hopeful, one eyebrow arcing in idle curiosity. 

You are typically the decisive one. You are always clear on what you want. Tonight, however, it is evident that you are counting on him to lead you somewhere. 

Even though he doubts his ability to take the lead, rather fortuitously, Santiago does (miraculously) manage to stumble upon one single idea outside of the realm of cunnilingus… “Hey, come here,” he coaxes, taking your hands in his. “Close your eyes.” You oblige him, folding your grip around him, firm and sure. His heart swells a little at the instant, implicit trust you exhibit - no hesitation. “Do you hear that?” 

Santiago’s eyes remain open, observing you as your eyes blink clumsily shut. You slide your soft hands up his forearms, bracing yourself with a gentle “woah”, no doubt as the closing of your eyes makes your alcohol-saturated world sway and swirl just a little more intensely. “Listen, cariño,” he scolds good-naturedly, cupping his palms at your elbows. “Do you hear it?”

He can’t help but smile as your face scrunches in adorable contemplation. Then, he can’t help smiling even wider, as you begin to tap his arms and jump excitedly up and down on the spot. You hear it too then. The distant thud of music bouncing off of the tall buildings. 

“Music!” you exclaim excitedly, opening your eyes and grinning at him, still bouncing on the spot like an excited kid. 

The full beam of your unfiltered smile knocks him for six for second. It has been a while, honestly, since he’s seen it glow that bright. Turned all the way up. You’d gone through some shit on this deployment. Blood, horror, pain; rinse and repeat. Some of your spark had understandably dulled, and honestly, he had worried -in part, a little selfishly- that it might never come back to its full strength.

Boy. He’s glad to be proven wrong. 

Santiago had quickly come to learn that you possess a singular combination of character traits - and not only the magical ability to piss him off more than anyone else could. No, in fact, he’d learned quickly that you possess a singular kind of zest for life. One which he’d feared was too pure to survive long in the dark. Honestly, he’d believed your optimism and your joy was naive at first. Something to be knocked out of you in boot camp. But he was wrong so far. At every turn you endure. At every turn, you shine. As he feels increasingly bogged down, saturated with inky, oily shadows, you are bright. His guiding light, always calling him home from the edge of the dark, shadow-coiled path he skirts. 

“Do we follow it?” you ask excitedly, the glint of adventure in your bright eyes, and in that moment he could swear he’d follow you anywhere. 

“Yeah. Of course we follow it. It’s our goddamn duty to follow it.” Santiago stomps his boot and waves his arm in a sloppy military salute - the kind that would earn him fifty push-ups back at base. You follow suit, even more sloppy, but entirely resolute in your faux seriousness. 

“Tonight, I swear my oath and pledge my allegiance to music, so help me God.” 

Santiago stomps emphatically again, for effect - an overblown, cheesy action-movie-style salute, his strong jaw set in an overly caricatured display. You beam again, a face-splitting grin, and he…

…realises he is having fun. 

In this moment, you are giddy. You are bright. Full of life, and Santiago briefly wonders if this is how things could be. If it could be like this all the time if only you could get out. If you could leave the military behind. God. You are the last person he wants to lose from his side, but a knot twists in his stomach at the thought you should get out while you still can. Before it drags you down like it is him. Before he drags you down with him, since you’ve seemingly tied your fates to his with red bloodied ribbons, wound between your bones and his. 

He doesn’t have much time to consider those things though. To let the blood seep into the edges like it always does; because you start running. You take Santiago’s hand in yours and run towards the distant thud of noise, leading him behind you and laughing and whooping as you do. Making a grey night in a grey part of town feel vibrant. Making him feel vibrant by association. He realises only then how numb he’s felt lately. How your buoyant smile had been the only thing to feed his own these past months. 

You are so much more than a throwaway fantasy to him. 

You truly are the friend he’s needed so desperately, and feels so, so lucky to have found. 

He runs with you, and he hopes, silently, selfishly, somewhere in the pit of him, that your paths never wind in different directions. 

He’ll follow you anywhere. 

***

After a few, giddy, chaotic minutes of tracing the ricocheting sounds, you find yourselves in the lobby of a seedy hotel, breaths sawing in and out of your lungs and mirthful, intermittent giggles spilling out of you. 

“I’m on the guest list!” you insist with a hiccough, trying your utmost to blag your way into the wedding party contained beyond the double doors; the established source of the music. 

Your assertion is much to the chagrin of the teenaged, stoner-looking kid on the front desk, who is clearly milking his new-found authority for all it’s worth. 

“Sure, lady. Then what’s your name?” 

Santiago looks at you expectantly, his arm slung casually around your shoulders, his chest already shaking and nose scrunching with a mildly tipsy, sleep-deprived concoction of mischief. 

“The name’s Trench,” you deadpan, and the poor fellow actually begins to skim his index finger down the alphabetised list. “Mariana Trench.” 

Santiago eyeballs you. Honestly, half of him is awed by your balls, even as the other half is despairing of your chosen (and completely unnecessary) alias. Still, he sees the funny side, of course, and has to swallow a hearty laugh by faux coughing into his fist. 

There are not many factors helping your case here; especially the fact your body is already unconsciously bopping along to the music. Santiago has to physically encourage you back to your spot with his arm around your middle, and, as the rhythm continually beckons you forth, he hastily tucks you into his side in a fruitless attempt to subdue you. 

By the time Santiago’s gaze flicks back to the kid at the desk, he’s folded his arms over his chest like a stern math teacher, clearly enjoying his upper hand. “Dude,” the kid probes sceptically, perhaps sensing that Santiago is the more sensible (or at least more sober) of the two of you. “What are the names of the bride and groom?” 

“Nicole and Dio,” Santiago fires off smugly, causing you to first gasp and - second - to gawk at him like a fish (which is funny, because for all you know he’s made those up too). 

“How did you know that?” you hiss-whisper, thinking you are being oh so subtle, and Santiago elbows you discreetly in the ribs for your trouble. This time though, he is unable to stifle his laughter entirely, a throaty chuckle shaking out of him, and the crinkles around his eyes rehearsing deeper future furrows. 

Meanwhile, whilst the kid at the desk continues to eye him sceptically, he cannot refute Santiago’s knowledge. The soldier silently praises his undeniable powers of observation - and the fact the kid seems to have entirely forgotten about the huge fuck-off sign standing in the entrance lobby. 

“Yeah. Still no.” This kid is a tough nut. 

“Shit,” you plead. “Well can I at least use the restroom?” 

“I guess that’s fine,” the kid concedes with an eye roll, gesturing towards the left hand side of the lobby. 

You saunter off, beelining towards the door with such ferocity that you whack your hip off of the doorframe on the way in there. 

Santiago winces in time with your “ouch!”, but as you throw your arms in the air, triumphantly insisting you are fine, he turns his attention back to his mission; to get you whatever you want for your birthday. 

Sporting the friendliest smile he can muster in the full knowledge this kid behind the desk hates him already, Santiago mosies up to the counter. 

“Come on, buddy. Hook us up,” he reasons. “It’s a Tuesday night and everywhere else is closed by now.” 

“Dude, your attempts to get laid are not my issue.” 

“No. No, it’s… She’s my friend. It’s her birthday and-”

“-Then take her to a fucking Chilli’s, bro. Still not my problem.” 

Santiago huffs, still trying to keep his face neutral. Non-threatening. He needs to step things up before you return from the restroom. 

“Listen, buddy.” The kid scowls at him then as if to confirm - I’m emphatically not your buddy. “Do you know what it’s like to be shot in service of your country?” 

“What?!”

He nods behind him, in your general direction, his eyebrows pumping up towards his hairline (and reaching for a hasty explanation before the kid presses the under-desk alarm button). “Because she does.” Santiago rests his folded arms up on the counter. Leaning-in. Going all out with the eye contact. “When I tell you she’s had a shitty time of it? Lying on the ground, bleeding out. So, look, man. I just want to give her a good time tonight, alright? Would you please help me out, man? She’s fucking earned this.”

A gulp trails down the kid’s neck, and he tucks his long, straight blonde hair behind his ears. “You’re intense, bro. Anyone ever told you that?” 

Santiago opens his mouth again, wishing to further embellish his case; but before he can do so the kid caves, waving his palms in total surrender. “Fuck, man. Do what you want, but for the love of God, would you just stop talking to me?”

“Great. Thank you. I mean it.”

“Yep. Whatever. Don’t get paid enough for this shit, bro.”

Santiago hears the door swing behind him, and joins you just in time to lead you further into the building, pleased that he is able to report victory. He’s almost forgotten about the front desk already - until the kid calls after him, growing bolder the further you two retreat, apparently. “This is why I’m a pacifist, dude! You might wanna think about it.” 

“Sure thing,” he calls back over his shoulder. “I’ll give it some consideration.”

Then, Santiago gently ushers you into the corridor leading towards the party, taking a moment to celebrate his “smooth-talking”. Before he can even think about bragging though, you throw your arms up in the air in a tada gesture and exclaim “you are welcome!”. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you you’d had no part in getting past the gate, and so instead, he opts to finally vent his quashed laughter. The fact you’d name-dropped Mariana Trench, specifically, supplies a giggle hearty enough that it makes his abs ache.

“Oh. By the way. How do I look?” you question, when the two of you are just shy of making an entrance to the main hall. 

Santiago turns to you and looks you up and down. Notices the fresh application of smeared red over your plush mouth. Surveys your jeans and tee with approval, as though you are outfitted in a gown. “Good, chica.” 

“Good!” You step forward then, towards him, and lay your palms flat on his upper chest. “Now. You know what I wanna do?” For a split second, with your proximity, and the husky thrall of your voice, Santiago finds himself imagining what you might want to do to him - if he should be so lucky. “I wanna dance. Will you dance with meeee, Santiaaaaggooo?” 

Santiago feels a lump lodge itself in his throat. Tries hard to forget that… well… red lipstick and dancing? They are - more often than not -  your highly decipherable code for being horny. Shit - he wonders if you are as pent up as he is. 

“You got it!” he musters, getting himself quickly in check. Christ, he needs to prioritise getting laid  - just as soon as he is no longer wholly dedicated to your birthday. 

“Yay!” 

You lead him by the hand and, once again, Santiago does not complain. Then, swinging open one of two double doors, plastered with unsightly fire regulations, you enter the fray. 

The doors open on a busy room, bathed in beams of chaotic coloured light. In reality, the interior is drab. A sad, grey, carpeted room. A few busted ceiling tiles up top. The circular event tables are flanked by a sorry stage at one side - fronted by a sticky, modest square of dance floor - and a small bar at the other. Finally, the far wall is edged with a rather depleted buffet, and intermittent bowls of greying macaroni. Whilst the room itself is nothing to write home about, however, the jubilation inside makes it feel positively wonderful. 

Santiago feels only for a split second like he is intruding. Within moments, he is all wrapped-up in the buzz. Enveloped by it. The band’s amps are turned up far too loud. The dance floor is awash with couples gyrating on each other and groups of singles circling each other, looking for an in. Throngs of friends and family are grouped throughout the room, laughing and chatting, taking photos on disposable cameras and clinking glasses, and when the two of you enter, matching smiles plastered on your faces, no-one even bats an eye. 

“We’re really doing this?” Santiago raises his voice above the tremor of the music. “Crashing a fucking wedding?”

“Relax! It’s not the worst thing you’ve ever done, Garcia. It’s not even against the Geneva Convention.” 

“Jesus! I’m not a fucking war criminal!”

“Relax, Santiago,” you encourage, tone soothing and your hands massaging into his shoulders; and, finally, he lets himself. For once, he lets his guard down. So, as you travel deeper into the room, Santiago begins to move a little less like a soldier on patrol, and allows his gait to loosen up. Allows himself to approach the room not as a soldier on high alert, but simply as some guy with his buddy, looking for a good time. “Attaboy,” you encourage, seeing him visibly unclench - a rare thing. “We’re good, alright? Hey. I’ll even leave a pack of Reese’s on the table. That way, we even brought a gift.” 

“And you’ll keep a low profile, right?” 

“Of course!” You flash him a faux innocent grin, which he sees right through. 

Yeah, figures, he thinks. Honestly, he isn’t sure you are capable of blending in - stealth ops aside, of course. But here? Without your camo and a distinct lack of a gilly suit? Baby, look at you, you’re gonna be noticed. 

“Alright. We dance. Just keep it low key or-“

“-Sure, sure,” you dismiss, waving your hand through the air as though to erase his plea. “But first, tequilaaaa!” 

Evidently, you are ignoring him completely, and yet the beaming smile on your face is so utterly worth it that Santiago could care less. “Eh. Whatever you say, Princesa.” 

You wink at him. “Now you’re getting the idea.”

Santiago watches you skip gracelessly over to the bar, making zero attempt to blend into the crowd (unsurprising). You order up two shots, downing one instantly and handing the other to him with a jubilant, mildly devilish grin. At this stage, Santiago is deliberately a few drinks behind you, having wanted to remain sober enough to take care of you. So, he figures he has a little wiggle room remaining before he reaches the point of no return. Egged on by your encouraging nods, he tips it down the hatch. 

“Cheers!” you exclaim, clumsily clinking your little plastic shot glass against his. The remains of the amber liquid still glisten on your mouth, lending an appealing shine to your red lips. As you mop the drips away with the back of your hand, you slightly smear the shade towards your cheek. 

Before Santiago can rectify the situation for you though, you’ve once again taken his hand and trailed him behind you, clumsily weaving through the crowd as he interjects “sorry!” each time you bash - either your body or his - into someone else’s. Before long though, the two of you are safely tucked right in the midst of it all, adding to the messy, merry throng on the compact dance floor. The amateurish but jubilantly played rock covers from the band began to vibrate all the way through his chest as you position right next to the speakers. 

As the vibrations tickle through him, bass inflating like a balloon in his rib cage, drowning out his thoughts and his heartbeat, you dance. With his thoughts silenced - or, rather, out-volumed- he slips into his body as if it is his own again. As if it belongs to him, and not just to some notion of God and country. 

You, for your part, dance as if compelled to. As though, after living for so long with your body following orders, exercising control, being disciplined, staying in line, you can finally let it be free. Can finally let it express itself.  

You move well, Santiago notes as he allows his own body to limber, freeing up his arms and his hips and feeling the buzz of the music and the alcohol thrum pleasantly through his body. It all feels somewhat alien to him now, his body stiff and lacking muscle memory for such imprecise, unplanned movements. You though? You move with abandon. With joy, like you never forgot how to feel it, belting the lyrics right from your chest. Jumping and waving your arms when the guitar solo drops. 

It makes him deeply happy to see you like this. What’s more, amidst the dance floor of preened, deliberate women encircling your space, their movements seemingly contrived to be appealing, alluring, sexual, your reckless expression is far sexier to him. You feel freed, wild - and it almost feels dangerous to him. This clear absence of regiments and rules and barriers feels dangerous, even the barriers between your body and his disintegrating as you dance closer, the beat shaking you together like sand on a drum skin. 

Indeed, your bodies are pushed ever closer and closer as the surprisingly heaving crowd compresses you tighter and tighter in the minimal, sticky-floored maneuver room. And so, after you’ve suffered one too many bumps and restrictions from stray shoulders and elbows, you finally give in to it, looping your arms around his neck and choosing to dance with him. 

Instinctually, automatically, Santiago’s hands fall to your hips, gripping you there as your body sways and rolls in time to the music, the raw, dirty hard rock vocals moving through you and bedding down into your body. 

At first, when your body presses up against his and the hot breath of your laughter fans over his neck, Santiago thinks about adjusting. About sliding his hands back up to your waist, where -perhaps- the gesture may seem less intimate. May allow for a little more room and a little less contact. 

It isn’t as though the two of you are strangers to touching. You are both tactile people, and besides, you’re often in close quarters. You’ve slammed each other to the mat plenty of times. He’s had your sweaty, writhing body all over his. Your grunts of submission sounding in his ear. Huffs of exertion fanning against his neck. Thighs locked with his. His hips pinning you. But this? This is a little different. It isn’t precise, technical touch. It isn’t objective-driven. There are no clear rules, besides friends not lovers, and even that distinction is starting to feel a little blurry. 

No, this kinda touch is something else. It is raw. It is instinctual; and that scares him, in truth. 

However, it doesn’t scare him nearly enough to want to stop.

He does not move his hands from your rolling, swaying hips. Can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gives in to it. To the music. To the feeling. To you. And, when does, he finds himself surprised by how fluidly your bodies move together. Symbiotically. Like a team. Like you do in battle, sure. In the field. Like it is the most natural thing in the world; but this time, your combining is not at all driven by survival. It is driven by living, and Santiago could swear, in this moment, that he has never felt quite so alive. 

The room is getting hot. The undulating crowd of bodies surrounding you is only adding to it. Exertion is glowing on your skin. He can feel it up against him, your sweat bleeding through your damp t-shirt where your breasts press into him. Can feel it beneath his fingers, tacky and slick, as he wraps his hands around that bare flash of skin at your midriff. God, you are smooth, and soft, and slick, and he is momentarily transfixed by a bead of sweat sinking down the centre of your chest, disappearing beneath the “v” of your shirt. 

Someone else’s body briefly presses up against his in the crush and he cringes away from the feel of their slick skin… but you? Yours? You feel good to him. He doesn’t mind it. 

That scares him too; but still, not enough to stop. 

With a joyous, unfettered laugh you claim back some space, spinning Santiago underneath your arm, your dance moves growing increasingly outlandish. Of course, Santiago follows your lead. Always does. And, before long, the two of you can barely dance from laughing and can barely laugh from your insistence to keep dancing. 

It feels good. Good to push your respective bodies to their limit on your own terms for once. To be with each other, side by side, in a scenario which could not be further from life or death; but that feels a thousand times more vital and central to being alive. 

Seeing your smile strobe as the blue party lights slip and flash over the planes of your face, the beats and riffs pulsing through his body, Santiago feels giddy and he feels bright. With laughter bobbing in his throat and aching in his sides, he feels goddamn luminescent, and so he can’t help but wonder. Can’t help but wonder if this is how he would feel all the time. If he got out. If the two of you could just be people, instead of soldiers.

Santiago holds on to it. He holds on to you. To the feeling of freedom. Of pure, unfettered joy. Of this strange peace amidst the blurry, heavy noise. 

He holds on to it while he can. He smiles with you until his face hurts. Laughs with you until his breath wanes. Dances with you longer than he should, song after song. Dances until he is sweating through his t-shirt, a dark “v” of sweat trailing down his chest. Dances, long after that now familiar heat in his newly ailing knees has crossed into discomfort. Dances closer and closer to the speaker until the music is indistinguishable from him, beating through his chest and down into his bones, and still; the two of you move your bodies. The two of you cling to each other like your life depends on it - and perhaps, precisely because of all the times it has. 

When you lean forward, cupping his ear, your lips almost pressed right to his skin to be heard over the din, a warm snake travels down his spine. “See! We still haven’t been found out!” You draw back to flash him a mischievous grin, your eyes glinting with a spark far more warming than the heat which already slickens his skin. 

You are most definitely up to something. You dip forward again as he strains to hear you. “Wanna be a little bolder?” There is a dark and delicious lilt in your voice. A tempting thing, enticing him into trouble - as per usual. 

He does though. Wants to be a little bolder. 

He wants to kiss you, in fact. To test the limits of just how well your bodies can move together. But…  just like all the other times tonight he lets that desire atrophy. Pushes it outside of his body. You are so much more to him than the tingle in his dick. Offer him so much more than whatever parts of you he could seek out with his hands and his mouth, skin finding skin, finding deep, dark wetness. 

If you wanted it, hey, it’s not like he would say no. He isn’t that strong; but he’d decided long ago that when it came to crossing that line, he would simply follow your lead. 

“What did you have in mind?” Santiago asks, dipping his own lips towards your ear. 

Your response is not quite what he expects. You simply throw both arms up into the air, your eyebrows jumping up with them. “Karaokeeee!”

It is a pleasant surprise, to be honest. He loves to see you like this. To see you have fun. Chasing your whims. Getting to be damn silly. For so long, everything has been so grim and so serious.

However, even if your suggestion - at first - inspires a broad, nose-crinkling smile, Santiago looks up at the freestanding mic in horror next - when he realises exactly what you are about to do. “Shit. Sweetie. It’s not-” 

-It is already too late. You are already clambering up on stage and taking your position by the vacant mic spot. “…It’s not karaoke,” Santi mumbles under his breath, mentally readjusting his level on how wasted you are. 

“Come with me, Pope!” you shout down to him, making grabby hands towards him. Next, you commandeer the mic pole as the frontman - who had simply stepped out for brief swig of water - looks on in confusion. 

Santiago sighs and slides his palm over his face, for he knows, fine well, exactly what is about to go down. That, after all the times you’ve saved his skin, tended his wounds, and -damn- even been shot to keep him safe, he for sure isn’t about to let you make a fool of yourself. At least, not alone. 

Cringing already from the forceful embarrassment of commandeering an entire stage at a wedding he’s just crashed, Santiago sets his jaw in resignation and hops semi-gracefully up there, rising to stand right next to you. 

“What happens in Philadelphia…” he mumbles, before bracing himself and accepting his fate. 

He raises his arm as a shield against the intense spotlight, and can suddenly see that the whole party is looking by now, heads whipping around following your triumphant “woop” into the microphone. 

He makes a mental note to explain to you what the words “low profile” mean later, as clearly, you’ve completely failed to grasp that concept. 

Santiago gulps as he looks out across the confused sea of faces, his mouth suddenly bone dry as he prays that no-one will actually yell “who the fuck are you?” Then, not for the first time this evening, he desperately attempts to conjure up a plan of action. Once again, he is pretty sure that cunnilingus won’t quite cut it here either. 

His goal right now is two-fold. To enable you to sing on stage, like you want to, and to avoid being forcibly removed from the venue. It is unfortunate that the former goal seems to void the latter, but hey. He’s been in stickier situations. And, with luck, Santiago remembers one useful thing. The fact that -according to damn near everyone- he’s a charming little fucker. Now, he supposes, is as good a time as any to put that theory to the test. 

“Nicole and Dio.” He gestures to the bride, and motions to gesture towards the groom too. That is, before realising he has no idea who “Dio” is in the crowd, so instead, he lets his arm flop uselessly back to his side. Next, he takes what he feels is a well-earned moment to let the feedback from the microphone die, wincing slightly at the noise, and becoming acutely aware of the sizzle of nervous sweat burning off of his forehead. “I think it’s safe to say,” he ventures with a little more confidence, straining to remember his cousin’s wedding and every platitude he might repeat, “that a love like yours comes around once in a lifetime. I know I speak for both of us when we say we’d like to wish you a lifetime of happiness together to enjoy it.” You helpfully lean forward in that moment and give another celebratory woop. “Thanks for that, sweetie,” he deadpans, wiping his brow just as urgently as he scans the room, searching for something -anything- he can pull from to meet his twinned objectives. 

Suddenly though, against all odds, he actually spots his way out. Emphatically, triumphantly, he points towards the Irish flag proudly adorning the far wall, and dearly hopes he is on to something. “A million tiny things had to align for you two to come together. You could even say it was fate. So, in tribute to the miles travelled by your ancestors, here it is. This one is for the Irish-Americans in the house!” Firstly, he is relieved, to say the least, when that statement earns a hearty cheer from the crowd. “Let’s hear it for Metallica; Whiskey in the jar.” Secondly, he is relieved when that statement earns further cheers, particularly from you. 

Next, Santiago looks confidently to the band, deciding he will simply stare at them pointedly until the drums kick in. “For Nicole and Dio!” he adds with a flourish after an uncomfortably long moment of inaction; and, as the crowd gets behind Santiago, who on earth are they to deny him? 

“Everybody on the dance floor!” you add, with an enthusiasm so overblown it can’t fail to be infectious.

Still, when Santiago finally thinks he has it nailed, you turn to him with a sudden and pronounced wash of horror on your face. “Garcia. Shit. It’s not karaoke!” 

“Princesa,” he soothes as the band kicks in, wrapping his arm firmly around your waist to avert your knees buckling in fright. “If it’s not karaoke, why the shit do I have a mic and a backing track, huh?” You still look unsure. “Come on, sing it with me. You’re hot as hell up here, don’t go shy on me.” 

Santiago turns, forgetting the crowd entirely as his mission revolves wholly around you. 

He begins to sing to you, gaze soft and encouraging until you relax back into it, your broad, electric smile returning. He tugs you closer into him, snug and safe until you grow bold enough to sing along with him into your one shared mic, gradually letting go and -bolstered by him- giving it increasing amounts of gusto. 

The pool of guests at your feet are going surprisingly wild for it too, almost every one in the room having now descended on to the dance floor.

“Here,” he encourages, as soon as he feels you’re ready, handing the mic off to you for the remaining verses of the song. “You got this, sweetie.” 

He lets you have your moment in the spotlight, cheering you on from the sidelines as you sing and air-guitar your way through the final chorus. You aren’t necessarily singing at your best after belting out lyrics at top volume, but what you lack in vocal ability you sure make up for in spirit. You have bags of that, and you perform it with plenty of showmanship, throwing yourself all over the stage and making Santiago’s face split with joy as he whoops along with you, fist-pumping enthusiastically. 

You even end the song by taking a knee and exclaiming “Nicole and Dio!”, raising your mic arm triumphantly in the air like the rock star you are - which is a huge relief to Santiago, as it had looked for a moment like you were about to stage dive into the completely unsuspecting crowd. 

You wrap it up to what Santiago will later describe as rapturous applause. You milk it for all it's worth, before relinquishing the mic to the actual band and skipping over to your biggest fan. 

“Was I fucking amazing?” you ask, bundling him into an enclosing hug. 

“Holy shit. Felt like I was watching Kerrang.” 

You punch him playfully in the arm for his shit-eating grin. “Dickhead.”

“What’s next for the Birthday Princess?” Santi asks, hopping off of the stage and guiding you safely down too. 

He’s secretly praying you’ll say “back to the motel”, but it doesn’t surprise him at all when you throw your arms jubilantly into the air and yell: “more dancing!”. 

Santiago brings the pad of his thumb up to the corner of your mouth, finally smoothing away that damn lipstick smear he wishes he’d gotten to before your impromptu stage show. “Go for it, hermosa,” he insists fondly. “I’ll be with you in a sec, yeah? After pulling that shit, I don’t think we have long before we get busted. You gonna be ready to hustle soon?”

You nod, fist-bump him, and skitter off to the dance floor, your seemingly boundless energy carrying you right the way through towards dawn. 

Santiago will give this track a miss, he thinks. His knees need a goddamn time-out; but his eyes still linger on you, shining fondly as you are folded into the crowd. 

***

“Touching speech, lad,” a low-timbre voice sounds to Santiago’s left. “But who in the devil are ya?”

Santiago, who is sat blissfully nursing a glass of ice cold tap water, immediately swivels on his barstool. This puts him face-to-face with an older gentleman, of considerable stature. 

The man’s crinkled, bushy-eyebrowed face is stern; but not unkind, even as his chin juts up in challenge. Santiago rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. There is no point trying to wriggle out of this one, and he’s already sure of it. 

“Okay,” he responds, his voice slow and low and his palms raising defensively in the air. The man might be both older and frailer than Santiago, but he exudes a certain authority which trumps his own youthful confidence. In short, Santiago certainly doesn’t want to piss him off. “You got me. It’s a long story, and we weren’t technically invited… but we don’t mean any trouble, Sir. And, hey, we did bring a gift,” Santiago adds for good measure, not entirely convinced that the mushed up peanut butter cups in your jeans pocket will make any shade of difference now - but hoping. 

The man presses his lips together and hums, as if mulling over the guilty party’s fate. After a moment of contemplation though, the older gentleman unceremoniously releases some of the rigidity from his body, slumping down into Santiago’s neighbouring bar stool with a sense of resolution. A gulp trails down Santiago’s neck all the same. “You a military pair, kid?” the man asks casually, making-out like he’s thoroughly absorbed in rolling his cigarette papers, but his sharp eyes still finding time to needle Santiago incisively. “I know the type.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Hmm. Well.” The man licks along the long edge of cigarette paper with the tip of his tongue. “You came clean, I’ll keep quiet. Besides commandeering the stage(!), you two don’t seem like too much trouble.” 

“Thank you, Sir.”

“I’m Colin, by the way. Nicole’s granddaddy.” The man extends a hand and Santiago shakes it. 

“Santiago. And hey, congratulations.” 

Santiago would’ve allowed some of the tension to seep out of his own rigid body by now; except for the fact he can sense the man is not quite finished with him. He lights the tip of his cigarette with a battered-looking, engraved lighter, smoke swirling around him and becoming one with his white-gray, thinning hair. “Since I’ve been so generous, lad, how’s about you explain to me the circumstances that brought you to crash my granddaughter’s wedding?” 

From the man’s unwavering stare, Santiago knows fine well this is a demand and not a suggestion. He rubs his sweaty palms together, finding himself reluctant to spill but with little apparent choice in the matter. Still, as his gaze flicks back in the direction of you, he feels a softness overcome him. “It’s her birthday. We’re on leave. Had a big trip planned to reunite with some buddies but the airport-“

“-ah. All shut down.” Colin nods in partial understanding, taking a long drag on his smoke. 

“Yes, sir. So I, uh. Well, I had to improvise.” 

Colin’s eyes flutter briefly closed. Then, a small flicker of a smile appears, as he - apparently - achieves a fuller understanding than Santiago’s divulgence should have allowed. An understanding which Santiago isn’t sure he has attained himself, as it stands. Is he missing something? “I see. You wanted to show her a good time.”  

“Yeah. Yessir.” 

To Santiago’s utter surprise, the man’s hand clasps down on top of his closest shoulder, the cigarette still pinned precariously in between his forefingers, and the smoke tangling around Santiago’s curls like future grays attempting to stick. “What are you drinking, lad?”

“Uh. Water,” Santiago replies simply, recalling the glass sweating on the bar top. 

“Not any more.” Colin signals the bartender with a barely perceptible raise of his chin, and manages to convey his order simply by raising two of his fingers in the air.

Santiago watches as a bottle, sporting an affixed yellow post-it note, is grabbed-up from its secret hiding spot under the counter. Must be the good stuff. 

When served, Colin slides one glass over to Santiago with the back of his age-spotted palm. “You don’t have to drink it, o’ course - I’ll just think you’re a rude fecker if you don’t.”

“Thank you, sir.” The two men swivel on their stools to face the bar and Santiago takes a sip, doing his best to hide his reaction to the intensity of it. 

Colin guffaws. “Yeah. That’ll put hairs on yer chest.” 

Santiago splutters, attempting to quickly smooth himself. “Cheers. To Nicole.” He hoists his glass in the air. 

“Aye. Here’s to that.” 

Santiago smiles, clinking his glass with Colin’s and hoping against all odds that you might come and rescue him soon. 

You don’t, but mercifully the chat is suspended for a moment as the man coiffs his cigarette and his drink, and Santiago even suspects he has been forgotten entirely as another guest draws Colin into niceties and conversation. 

Therefore, after a few warming swigs have slipped down his throat, each one followed by a grimace, Santiago turns, realising it has been a minute since he’s had eyes on you. He quickly locates you on the dance floor, boogying with some tall, white guy. A guy who is - with your encouragement - getting rather handsy. Seeing this, all of Santiago’s muscles tighten and he feels the vague urge to leap up off of his bar stool - that is, until Colin interjects.

“Can I give you some advice?” 

Santiago’s initial thought is “no”; but he has a feeling Coilin may offer his unsolicited advice regardless. “Don’t crash weddings?” he jests half-heartedly, the lion’s share of his attention still on you and that guy’s damn hands. 

“Marry her.”

Santiago’s gaze flips immediately towards Colin, his face the picture of abject confusion. “Sorry. Who?” 

Colin chuckles to himself, evidently quite tickled, and nods his head gently in your direction. “Your lady friend.” 

Santiago saws his palm over the five-o-clock shadow adorning his jaw. A weak, throaty chuckle bobs in his throat. He finds it funny. Preposterous. “With respect, Sir. That’s not gonna happen.” It is knee-jerk. Santiago had sworn off marriage long ago. Had long ago given up on the prospect of any form of happy ending. Besides, you and him? He doesn’t think so. 

“Oh. Boyo,” Colin begins, his tone juuuust condescending enough to make Santiago stiffen. “You find someone who makes you as happy as that, you marry her. Trust me, lad.”

Santiago purses his lips. Tightens them into a thin line. “We’re not… together.” Not that it’s any of this guy’s business what you are to him; but he’s just not getting it. 

“You love her,” Colin says softly. Almost gently, as though he’s breaking bad news. 

”What?” Santiago shakes his head incredulously, blinking several times in succession. 

“I can barely see past my own arm these days, lad, but I can see that much.” 

There is that hand, clasping his shoulder again. This time it feels different. “You love her.” 

The first time Colin had spoken these words, Santiago had bristled. Felt provoked. He should feel similarly now too - he knows it - but upon hearing them for a second time, a sudden clarity settles over him. In fact, he’s never felt less confused by a statement in his life. 

He feels his mouth go dry. A sudden ringing in his ears. He could’ve sworn he had hands and feet earlier in the evening, but right now he can’t feel them. 

Of course he loves you, he thinks, reaching for logic. For rationalisations. But it’s not like that. That’s simply what happens when you go through so much together. You bond, intensely. That’s all it is. All it amounts to. 

Colin has this all wrong. 

Santiago looks at you then. Really looks at you, as you grab your dance partner by the shirt and shove your tongue in his mouth, pulling away from the kiss with a wolfish grin. Some kind of feeling he can’t hope to name tightens like a fist in his stomach when you do that. “She’s…” Santiago wants to protest. Wants to say that no, he doesn’t. But those aren’t quite the words which find their way out. Instead, he says quietly, like he’s delivering bad news now: “she’s my best friend.” 

“Ah,” Colin breathes, in a fresh tone of relief. As if satisfied. As if he has now achieved full understanding - even if Santiago has not. The older man stubs out his cig and downs the dregs of his whiskey, cheersing Santiago once more with a clink of his empty glass. “There you go then. Isn’t that the same thing?”

Isn’t that the same thing?

It is a blur from there. A blur as Colin once again outstretches his hand and Santiago obliges by shaking it, his arm feeling limp and useless like a bag of cotton-wool. It is a blur as Colin wishes him well with a jolly “take care, lad,” sauntering away with no concern for the destruction left in his wake. 

It is a blur as you sidle over, as though the volume in the room has been turned down all of a sudden. It becomes gradually louder again as you approach. 

You. 

You. 

You.

“Fuck, you okay, Garcia? You look like you’re about to puke.” 

There’s nothing here. 

Nothing with you. 

Nothing he could have with you. No way. 

“Seriously! You look queasy as hell.” You place your hand across his brow to see if he’s burning up.  

“No. ‘M good. Fine,” he says tightly. 

You nod, still looking sceptical but opting to buy what he’s selling. “You just tired? Too much dancing?”

”Heh. Something like that.” It is a struggle to push the words out, but he surprises himself. Gradually sinks himself back into the room. Back into his body. 

Santiago notices the brief spark of an idea fleet over your face as you regard him and, in the next moment, you dip forward to chastely kiss him on the cheek. He feels a deep, blooming heat develop under his skin, his cheeks darkening with a crimson flush, and he resists the urge to clamp his palm over the spot your lips touched. “What was that for?” 

A delicate smile dances on your mouth. “Thank you, butthead. I’m having a good birthday.”

It’s what you don’t say. It’s what your eyes are telling him. Your body language. Your touch. You’re telling him things you’ve been saying for a long time now. Things which, thanks to Colin, beg a whole load of new questions.

You slip your hand down his arm, grasping his hand in yours. For a moment he just stares, looking down at your hands clasped there together. He is vaguely aware of the track switching in the background, to a slower, more heartfelt tune, and, by the time he drags his eyes back-up to yours, he figures he’s got a head start already on what you’re about to ask. 

He makes it so you don’t even have to. “One more dance?” 

He stands, capturing your waist with his wrapped arm, leading you back towards the dance floor. The surprise and relief and glee on your face as he preempts you is almost too bright for him to look at. 

“You even know how to slow dance, Garcia?” you ask as he maneuvers the two of you into prime position, right in the beam of a sweeping purple spotlight, the dancefloor filling exclusively with swaying couples as the tender, swooping song resonates through the room. 

“Haven’t slow danced since prom,” he admits. “But I’ll follow your lead, Princesa.” 

“You a’ways do, asshat.” 

“You know? You’re not wrong. Now, come here.”

He holds his arms out and you step into his sturdy circumference, no hesitation. Trust implicit, your bodies moving in sync. You drape the loop of your arms gently around his shoulders, your twined fingers brushing the nape of his neck, sending a warm shudder through him. His hands hover helplessly for a moment, but he eventually settles them on your hips, drawing your body closer, tightening the space between you as you each sway together, cheek to cheek. 

“I - I can’t believe you did this for me, you know?” Your voice is lower, dropped in your throat. Heavy with solemnity as though you are thanking him for taking a bullet for you or something. “Tonight. The karaoke. Everything.” 

“Well,” he dismisses, against the shell of your ear. It’s not nearly enough.“You got shot for me, so...”

Your light, lilting laugh fans across his check. It isn’t funny at all, wasn’t a joke; except that it’s so tragic it kinda has to come full-circle, he supposes. “Fine,” you offer. “Call it even?” 

Even? 

It could never get close to even. 

Santiago feels a surge of emotion welling in him. Like suddenly there is a mechanism dredging all the settled silt back up to the surface. It rises all the way up - into his chest, into his throat. He pulls back slightly until you are face to face, his expression far more severe than the situation merits; but he can’t help it. It feels barbed, difficult, coming out of his mouth, but it needs to be said. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me, you know?” His eyes are glistening, a telltale softness nestled beneath his thick brows, and his thumbs unconsciously rubbing circles into the meat of your hips. “You’re…. I… I mean. You’re… my best friend.”

You gawp back at him for a moment, visibly caught off-guard by his emotional intensity. Then: “oh no,” you whisper-shout into the space between you, as though if you push too much sound out, the emotions might overspill along with it. “Don’t get all soppy on me, you hear? You’re the only fucker who knows I have emotions, and I damn sure wanna keep it that way.”

His gaze flits all over your face. “Secret’s safe with me, Princesa.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

He smiles at you - a smile that only reaches his eyes. 

You nestle yourself back into the crook of his shoulder, your body pressed right up against his. One hand grasping at his back. The fingers of the other clasping his shorn head, dancing over the prickled hair of his army-issue buzzcut. 

He holds you, and in turn you hold him even tighter. You hold each other tightly until you are no longer even dancing. Until you are simply an island in a sea of undulating couples, holding on to each other for dear life. 

It scares him.

It scares him to his depths that he never wants to let you go; but not enough to stop.  

As he pulls you close to him, buries his face in your neck and embraces you tightly, he thinks about it. He thinks about whether he believes in happy endings. He thinks about whether his, if he could be so lucky, would involve you. 

Those thoughts are interrupted when he feels a wetness bloom on his shoulder. Feels you jerking and sniffing against him, and he experiences your sudden outpouring of pain as acutely as though it is his own. 

“Hey. Hey,” he soothes. “What is it?”

”I’m not sad, idiot.”

”No?”

”No. It’s…” You sniff. “It’s just been so hard lately. And, you know. Tonight has been so… It’s been so…” 

He thinks he knows what you mean. Thinks he understands you completely. “Perfect?” he ventures. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. “Perfect.” 

He holds you as you cry. And there’s not a chance in hell he’s letting you go. 

***

Considering your intoxication level, the sudden onset of tiredness, and your tears, Santiago figures it’s about time to head. He manages to get you in a cab back to the motel eventually - only after you’ve visited the ladies restroom, become fast friends with an equally drunken Nicole, bestowed her with peanut butter cups, and promised to meet-up next time you’re in the city. By this point, you are already dropping, and the soporific movements of the cab have you falling asleep draped over Santiago’s lap. 

He pays the driver when you arrive, stirring you with a warm hand smoothing up and down your back. He tries to be calm. Soothes you with his voice; because he knows all too well that for someone in the military, a rude awakening is no small thing. 

He walks you to the room and helps you sit down on the bed. Tugs your boots off for you as you opt to bury your nose deep in your own armpit and sniff. 

“Ew. I need a fucking shower.” 

“Fuck that. You can shower in the morning.” 

“I stink.” 

“Trust me. You’ve smelled much worse.” He smiles softly as his comment earns an indignant snort from you, but the ire in your face is quickly snuffed as he looks up to you a little too softly. “Let’s get you dressed for bed, alright, birthday girl?” 

“Mmm hmm. Okay then.” 

He swallows a smile at seeing you in this sleepy state. It’s not often that you allow anyone else to take care of you. In fact, Santiago feels a strange surge of honour - a glow within his chest -  that tonight, he is the one who has the privilege. 

You unabashedly begin to strip off your jeans and top next, and Santiago quickly scoops up an oversized t-shirt from the gaping mouth of your hold-all. “Here,” he says, swallowing the tremor in his voice as he gathers the fabric up and guides the garment gently over your head to cover you. Gingerly passes your arms through the right holes. “That’s it. Put this on, alright? Can you get your bra out from under there?” 

You maneuver the clasp and straps beneath the cover of the shirt until you are pulling the bra out from the confines of your tee, triumphantly flinging it across the room with a soft “woo!”, to which Santiago’s lips twitch in silent amusement. 

“Need to brush my teeth at least,” you argue, holding your arms up and out - making grabby hands to signal for his help. 

“Alright. Sure. Let’s go together.” Santiago helps you stand. Maneuvers and encourages you onwards. He wraps his closest arm around your waist, and his other hand catches the arm you throw out to him so he can keep you steady.  Then, steps in sync, you pad the short distance to the bathroom, Santiago lightly directing you away from bumping your hip on the doorframe (again) as you pass through it. “That’s it. Little off course there,” he chuckles. “Almost as bad as Ironhead’s God-awful driving.” 

You turn your head over your shoulder and scold him good-naturedly. “Ouch. Don’t remind me.” 

“Yikes, sorry. Too soon?” You’d teased Will for the unfortunate humvee training exercise that had put you in med bay, but Santiago guesses you aren’t quite ready to have him joke about it yet. 

“Never getting back in a car with that bastard in the driver’s seat, trust me. Fella takes off-road a little too literally, you know? Still have that goddamn tweak in my back too to prove it.” 

“You do, huh?” Shit, you’ve certainly hidden it well enough - had insisted you were unscathed, in fact, when sober - and so Santiago mentally logs that information for later.

With a little bit of wriggling around, you squeeze into the tight bathroom space. When you reach the bathroom sink, Santiago is still behind you, his hands now clamped on your hips and keeping you steady. When you turn on the faucet and bend enthusiastically towards the stream of water however - hinging at the hips and dipping to splash your face with cold water - Santi punches out a strangled note. Which is natural, he thinks, given that your panty-clad, half-bare ass is thrust further into his hands (and his crotch), with decidedly no room in the cramped space for him to back-up. “Woah, Jesus. Keep it vertical, would you?” 

“Shit, sorry. Liked that did you?” you mock, with a dirty, chaotic snigger. 

“I’m only a man, Princesa.”

With a nervous twist in his belly, Santiago flees to the more expansive space of the bedroom, leaving you to complete your task. Feeling somewhat claustrophobic, he throws open the window, thankful when the relative cool of the night air kisses his skin. The room has grown hot and sticky all of a sudden. Too close. Lord knows why. 

He perches himself inside the opened wooden square then, the flung-open frame an awkward perch. He rests with one leg hiked up on the ‘sill and one foot bracing him on the floor, his back reclining against the biting vertical edge. 

Only when you reenter does he reluctantly drag his eyes away from the black night and into the soft, shadowed shell of the dreary room. Despite this dimness, he can barely bring himself to look at you in this moment. It is as though you are too bright for him, and so he quickly -and uncharacteristically- averts his eyes. 

Still, you’re like a magnet, and his gaze quickly relocates you without much trouble. 

“Feel like staying awake a little longer?” 

Despite looking bleary-eyed - dead on your feet, even -  you nod in response to his proposition and, much unlike earlier, Santiago suddenly feels he wouldn’t dream of sleeping. You perch yourself on the edge of the bed and flick on the lamp, casting a sallow glow throughout the room. It makes you look at once dream-like and infinitely more real to him, as the glare highlights the goose flesh trailing up your arms and thighs. The tired circles under your eyes. He doesn’t know how you make such details attractive, but as far as he is concerned, there is no bad light to cast you in. 

You lay down, legs stretched out on the scratchy comforter, and torso propped against the stiff, unforgiving pillows. You make space for him to lie down alongside you, and yet Santiago opts to hover, not ready to relinquish his window seat. It’s as uncomfortable as it probably looks, however, and so he fumbles in his pocket for a smoke, figuring it as good an excuse as any to be sitting up there - instead of lying next to you. He stares out into the blackened parking lot with enough vigour to convince an onlooker it is entirely compelling - instead of looking at you. 

You are quiet for a moment following and Santiago lets it hang, exhaling twists of smoke from his mouth to the window. Flicking his spent ash down onto the asphalt below. Then, you expel a blustery sigh.

“Shit,” you grumble. You click your tongue. Santiago turns to see you lying flat on your back now, staring contemplatively up at the dusty, motionless ceiling fan, arms folded behind your head. “That guy I made out with.” 

Santiago takes an even deeper drag on his smoke; perhaps unconsciously hoping that if he is occupied long enough, he won’t be required to respond at all.

Your head lollops to the side, your gaze finding his. “Do me a favour and don’t tell Tommy I did that, okay?” 

Fuck. 

“Wait. Tommy?! You and Tommy?” The words are expelled faster than he would’ve wanted, almost making him choke on a cloak of hot smoke. “Tommy fucking Nelson?”

“Yeahhh. We’ve, um, sorta… been hooking-up lately.” 

Santiago quickly inhales another drag, smoke seething out of his nostrils as he flicks the used cigarette butt down to the asphalt below. He is grateful that the lungful gives him a second to think before he speaks - yet apparently, it is not quite long enough. “Shit. The guy’s so stacked I swear he must have abs on his dick.” 

You laugh; and Santiago decides that, based on the beauteous sound of it alone, Tommy fucking Nelson doesn’t even remotely deserve you. 

“I dunno about abs on his dick… but he’s got enough to work with, know what I mean?”

Santiago continues to peer out of the window, and so you don’t see his face crumple with a frown. “So he’s good, huh?” 

You scoff to yourself. “Oh. Fuck. Not really. He doesn’t do much of the work…” Your dirty laugh sounds out. “Fortunately, I’m a goddamn miracle worker when it comes to getting myself off.”

Strike two. Tommy Nelson definitely doesn’t deserve you. 

You giggle. Giggle like this is a girls’ fucking sleepover. Like you are revealing some - far more innocent - secret to a best friend. 

But… of course. Because that’s precisely what he is to you, right? Nothing more, nothing less. And that’s never bothered him before. Has never bothered him until precisely now. 

What exactly has gotten into him tonight, then? Why does some old guy have his head in a spin? Why is he delaying crawling onto his side of the bed? Why can’t he look at you? 

Further delaying the inevitable, Santiago pats down his pockets, hoping for another cigarette with which to prolong his diversion by the window. However, he comes up short. Has no other recourse left besides brushing his teeth, kicking off his shoes, stripping down to his boxers, and laying his body out alongside yours. The mattress dips as he settles on top of the covers, and you swivel on to your side to face him. 

“Hey.” You prod him in the pec. “What about you anyway?”

“What about me?”

You reach down. Snap the elastic hem of his boxers until it pings back against his toned stomach. “Been getting any lately?” 

He makes a vague, non-committal sound, hoping it will be enough; but, of course, you don’t stop there.  

“Your dream girl… Let’s see.” Your eyes spark, far too animated considering such a long night. “Wait. Don’t tell me. She’s… nude. Huge breasts.” Santiago had wanted to roll his eyes at you, honestly, but he finds he can’t quite quash his smile. “She’s… I know… draped in the American Flag.” His face splits with mirth. “Reciting the Fifth Amendment.” You prod him emphatically in the pec. “Plus she plays bass in a Pearl Jam cover band and gives next-level blow jobs.” His gaze sweeps over your shit-eating grin like a paintbrush over a canvas. Like fingers down a guitar fret. Like it belongs there. Like he belongs here. “Well?” you’d needled. “Am I warm yet?” 

“Wait, I think I know her.” Santiago snaps his fingers. “Hey. Yeah. Didn’t she hook-up with Benny last week?” 

You twist as chaotic laugh spills out of you, throwing your arm over him and dipping your head towards his bare chest. It is a small thing. A minute, unconscious action. A brief touch. A single moment. Except… the way it makes his stomach lurch makes it completely undeniable to him. Undeniable that the only girl doing it for him is you. 

He realises it all now though, as he looks at you. Realises he’s been seeing you in pieces. In fragments; because of course he has. Of course, because he’s been trying to survive, and if he’d dared to think, instead, about living? Well, then he’d have far too much to lose. 

“Come onnn,” you purr, jutting out your bottom lip, entirely oblivious to the way the ground is disappearing from beneath him as you remain curled into his side. “Give me some gossip. It’s my birthday!” 

He swallows. Tries to pull himself together. Tries to be exactly what you need him to be. 

“Christ.” He nervously scratches at the stubble sprouting along his jaw. “Well. Let’s see. First of all, I’ve spent so long without any action but my own goddamn fist that even Morales is starting to look appealing.” 

“Well? Do you think he’d be down?”  

“He should be so lucky. Anyway. He’s got a girl back home. High school kinda sweetheart deal.”

You scoff. “What? For real?”

“Mm hmm. He’s in it too. His eyes mightta wandered occasionally - but as far as I know his dick never has.” 

You pump your eyebrows like that surprises you. “Good for him.” And then: “It won’t last though.”

“Christ. You’re really that cynical already?”

“Something like that,” you smirk. “Guess it comes with the old age.” 

“Oh yeah. Speaking of birthdays…” Santiago pushes off his elbow and swivels, reaching to fumble a tiny, square parcel from his jeans pocket. He settles back into position with a grin on his face, extending his gift toward you. You eye it sceptically, but with casual intrigue. 

“Fuck me. Something else from your trousers that’s been manhandled to death, Santiago? You know how to treat a lady.” 

He can’t explain why he feels nervous as you weigh the package in your palm. “It’s… for protection.” 

“A fucking condom?”

“Ay, dios. Just open it, would you?” 

You rise up, settling cross-legged on top of the covers, and Santiago shifts to mirror you, with a lopsided, self-conscious smile. You pause, looking between him and the package with a gentle, subdued glee. You gingerly peel the red tissue paper away, revealing the gift nestled within. As soon as you observe what is inside, however, the glee evaporates from your face. You look down at it, for once rendered speechless before you say his name, the sound as thin as the wisps of smoke still eddying up on the ceiling. “Santiago.” 

He swallows. Saws his hand across his stubble, suddenly worried that the gesture is all off. “It’s-” 

Your eyes snap up to his, your expression raw and soft. “-I know what it is.” 

You look back down to the gift now, warmly. Lift them up, a string of black rosary beads unfurling. The beads his mom had gifted him for protection the day before he’d shipped out, clamping her hands over his and reciting a prayer he didn’t believe in, but which he’d felt all the way down to his marrow. The beads that he’d kept on him ever since, usually nestled in the pocket of his tac vest. The beads which his mother had prayed would keep him safe. Would protect him, when it had turned out to be you who had answered her prayer. You who had protected him, at whatever cost. 

“But I can’t-“

Stupid. You’re stupid. Of course you can. 

“It’s no big deal. I’m just a cheapskate,” he minimises. 

You inhale, about to launch a protest, but you must read something altogether too earnest in his face, since any such argument is subdued as soon as you look at him. Instead then, you hold them up once more, your eyes glistening as you admire the cheap, plastic beads for far more than they are worth. 

“But won’t your mom-“

“Be mad I gave them away?” You let the beads pool in one palm, the red tissue paper now strewn over your lap like swatches of blood. Santiago clamps his hands over yours, nestling the beads safely within, in a gesture which mirrors his mother’s own plea a little too closely. He empathises with her then. With her fear of being left behind. With her fear for his soul and its fate. “Are you shitting me? You saved her angelito. She’d probably sign the goddamn house over to you. I mean, shit - she’s already been bugging me to bring her new hija over for tamales.” 

He hasn’t ever told you that before. Maybe that’s why you do it. Why you gently cup his face and dip to render a light, chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. When you draw back from him, you look almost as surprised by the gesture as he is.  

“Santiago.” Your eyes well-up. “It really means a lot.” 

He doesn’t have words for a moment. It does. It means a lot to him, and he’s struck with sentimentality when he realises that it means something to you too. He nods once, gaze gently dancing over your face. 

“I mean it,” you squeeze out through welling tears. “This is the sweetest thing-“

“-Shh. Oh no. No, no, no,” he captures your tears with the crook of his forefinger just as they spill over, motioning as though he is attempting to restore them to whence they came, a soft yet playful concern dancing over his face. “Quick sharp. Put these back,” he whisper-shouts, faux urgently. “No-one can know you feel things.” 

His remark causes you to laugh through your tears, as you hastily lift a balled fist to scrub them away. The sounds dissolve into a pleasant yet taut silence, leaving the two of you simply looking into each other’s eyes. 

You are the first to break it, dropping your gaze down towards your lap. 

“Listen. Thank you.” 

“It’s the least I could do.“

Your expression grows more troubled then, a divot notching in your brow and your head shaking softly side to side. “Santiago. I need to say this. You… you don’t owe me any debt. Okay? And… and don’t you even think -ever- about trying to repay it. You hear me?” 

He owes you everything, and he’ll repay it however he can; but he isn’t about to argue with you. Instead, he simply nods. Forces an even, concessionary smile, leaning into a swift topic change. “You tired yet?”

“Yeah. Exhausted.” 

“Let’s lie down then, alright?” 

“Mmm.” You set the beads down so carefully on your nightstand that it constricts his chest, arranging them in a nest of tissue paper. “It’s just… I…”

“What?” 

He flicks off the lamp and you lay down on your back, staring up at the ceiling fan, the room now illuminated only by the distant glow of the motel’s neon sign across the lot. It bathes the room in a purple-tinged dark. When your voice comes back, it is small. “It’s just that I… I don’t want this night to end.” 

Santiago lays himself out, right next to you. “Then let’s try and stay awake, huh?” 

“Yeah. Let’s do that.” You shiver; then, instead of crawling beneath the scratchy comforter like he expects, you curl into his side. Rest your head against his chest. Santiago’s arms hover over you for a moment, as though he doesn’t know what to do. In actual fact though, it comes far too naturally to him. 

He wraps you in his arms, and begins to smooth one hand up and down your back - of course, being careful not to venture too low, even as you torque your body into his touch. 

You exhale against him. Hum, up against his bare, tan skin. Drape your arm over him, and, reliably, there is that knot again. That fist, tightening inside his chest. 

“Hey,” he croaks, voice smaller than it needs to be. “Birthday princess?” 

“Mmm.”

“Do you…?” 

“Do I what?” 

He hesitates. Stares coldly and contemplatively up at the ceiling fan himself now even as he bundles the warmth of you in his arms. “Do you believe in happy endings?”

He feels your breathy expletive fan over his chest. “Fuck. That’s a big one.”

“Sorry. Forget it, you don’t have to-“

“-No. I do,” you say with certainty. “I do believe in them.”

Santiago hopes that you can’t feel his heart thundering beneath the shell of your ear. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Except… not for people like us.” 

His brow tightens, mouth turning down at the corners. “Why not?” 

“Well,” you muse, wriggling pointedly until his hand - stopped dead with suspense - resumes its ministrations over your back, his fingers obediently seeking out the knots and notches until your airy hum sounds again. “Because our hands are too bloody now to build anything good. Right?” 

It’s strange because, right now, caressing you like this, he could almost forget that his hands are blood-soaked. Your touch is the only reminder he’s had in some time that his hands can indeed be loving. In fact, the whole concept of war feels so entirely incongruous to him while he’s holding you. Like it could not be further away, even though -in your lives- it is only ever around the corner. He pushes his response out from the depths of his chest. “Don’t you think that’s just a little bleak?” 

“I dunno.” You shrug, and he doesn’t enjoy how sad your voice grows . How old you somehow sound all of a sudden. “It’s just… They told us we’d be heroes, Santi. But… When was the last time you felt like one?”

You’re my hero, he thinks loudly, in the achingly quiet room; but, he catches the words before they make it out of his throat. In the end, nothing more than a small, reined-in grunt manages to escape. 

“Why do you ask, anyway?” 

Because you deserve one. More so than anyone he’s ever met, you deserve one. 

His fingers and the heel of his hand continue to massage the dink in your back, rooting out every source of tension. Learning how to take the pain apart for you like a weapon in his palm. “Dunno,” he lies. “The wedding. All that.” 

“Pfft. I give ‘em a month.” 

“You’re fucking brutal, you know that?”  

“And you’re hilarious. Shit. Happy fucking endings? Man. At this point, I think I’d settle for a happy middle, you know? Before I go down in my inevitable blaze of glory.”

“Don’t say that,” Santiago scolds, his voice taut. “I hate when you talk like that.” 

He doesn’t blame you. For being cynical or pessimistic - not really. Doesn’t blame you one bit. Not after you’d legitimately looked death in the face. He understands well enough what that can do to a person. How it can change them. How, even someone like you, who always saw a clear, bright path ahead, could begin to doubt the clarity of that vision. 

Absent-mindedly, you circle the pad of your forefinger in the valley of his pecs. “What about you, then? Do you believe in all that stuff? Marriage? Happy endings?” 

“Meh. Not so much,” he answers honestly, fissures in his voice. Maybe it is his ingrained Catholic guilt talking, but he certainly doesn’t feel like he deserves a happy ending. Not after the things he’s done. Not after all that blood.

“Then how about this, Santiago Garcia,” you begin, tone much more playful, like you’ve had a bright idea. “Would you settle for a lifetime of trouble-making with your ride or die?” 

You extend your pinky towards him for the most sacred of all vows, and he curls his own little finger around yours.

He intends his response to feel light-hearted. Equally playful. He really does. But, when the words escape his lips they are heavy. Dripping and weighed with sentimentality. “With you, honestly, it doesn’t really feel like settling.” He suddenly feels like someone is sitting on his chest. Like the air is scarce and sharp with some incendiary cloud - about to ignite and burn everything he’s known to the ground. 

“Kiss ass,” you poke lightly, and a wistful smile briefly dances across his features. 

“It’s only what you’re due.” 

“Oh?! A thorough ass-kissing?” 

“Sure. Maybe you can get Tommy-abs-on-his-dick-Nelson right on that.” 

You snicker chaotically. “Huh. Maybe.”

Santiago jostles you gently in his embrace. “Hey. Speaking of. Sorry you got lumbered with the sideshow tonight, by the way.”

“Fuck off, Pope,” you huff, like he’s just said something which causes deep offence. “Of all the chumps I couldda been stuck with, I’m glad it was you.” Santiago’s heart flutters, his chest blooming with a hazy, metered-out warmth when he hears you say those words. “Now. Wish me happy birthday one more time, and then sing me a damn lullaby, would you?” 

Santiago crushes his chin down to his chest to get a better look at you, having decided that you must surely be joking. “Huh?!” 

“We all knew about your guitar skills but you have a beautiful set of pipes too? Been holding out on me, Pope. Now, sing!” 

“Jesus. You’re demanding, Princesa.”

“It’s only what I’m due, right? Come on, I haven’t got all night, asshat!” Somehow, the derogatory term sounds imbued with a deep fondness somehow, and it blooms through him. 

“Alright. Alright. Keep your panties on.” Shit - you had better. 

“Thank you.” 

Santiago dips his chin so he can reach your hairline. Settles a chaste kiss there, which lingers a touch too long - but which he can’t possibly cut any shorter, his eyes closing as his lips brush your skin. “Happy birthday,” he breathes, completing part one of your demand. With any luck, he thinks, you might fall straight to sleep like this - before he even has to serenade you. 

He stills as your eyes flutter closed, listening out for the slowed pace of your breathing. That is, until you open one eye and whisper-hiss up at him. “Sing.” 

A resigned amusement twitches his plush lips and he finally obliges you. He begins softly speak-singing, hoping his soporific and sandy tones will lull you towards sweet dreams, his broad palm still sweeping up and down your back. 

“She gives me everything

And tenderly…” 

A soft smile graces your features as you note his song choice. “Cobain? You’re such an angsty little gremlin, you know that?” 

“I can stop at any time,” he threatens, teasingly. 

“No. No, please.” 

He clears his throat. Lets his voice grow a touch more full and resonant, despite it being scuffed by tiredness and smoke.

“The kiss my lover brings,

She brings to me-ee,

And I love her.” 

It is a little funny, at first. A little awkward; until suddenly, it isn’t . Until, suddenly, a weight settles in your brow. Until his voice begins to falter, cracking apart with emotion. 

He hadn’t been able to say it. Clearly not even to acknowledge it. 

He hadn’t been able to find the words to tell you what you mean to him. To explain the pit in him which had opened up when he’d almost lost you. Didn’t have the words to tell you you were the reason he’d prayed for the first time in ten years, pledging loyalty to a God he hadn’t believed in -hadn’t needed - until he was begging Him not to take you. He didn’t know how to describe the way it had felt for him to kneel by your bedside, his mother’s rosary beads clutched in his palm so tightly the cross has drawn blood - even as he’d openly cursed them for protecting him and not you, and had cursed you for the same. 

He swallows the hard, tight knot which has gnarled in his throat. Wonders if maybe he can stop, because singing feels like purging himself of far too much of the pain and love he has buried, and fuck, it hurts on the way out. 

He does consider stopping. That is, until your small, grief-laden voice sounds out as though it hurts you too; but that you need to hear what he is finally telling you. “Please. Don’t stop?” 

It is a question, this time, not a demand; and yet, Santiago couldn’t dream of denying you. 

And so, with a weight in his brow, he keeps on singing. 

“Bright are the stars that shine,

Dark is the sky. 

I know this love of mine,

Will never die.”

It is at this point his voice cracks wide open. It is at this point a single tear slips across the bridge of his nose as he sings it out loud. Something he’d known for a long time, in truth, but hadn’t quite found the words for:  

“And I love her.”

The room seems eerily still as you each hold your breath. He doesn’t know where to go from here - but luckily, you always seem to know the way forward. 

“You know,” you say softly, voice wet with emotion. “It’s a real shame. Because if you did believe in happy endings?” 

“Yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper.  

“You’d look pretty good as somebody’s endgame, butthead.” 

An emotion Santiago can’t name twists through his middle, like he is being wrung out. Like his blood-soaked soul is finally being purged. It is no wonder then, that his words come out dripping red. Soaked in cynicism. With a disbelief that anything good -for him - is deserved. “Let’s get each other through the happy middle first,” he says, as hidden tears glitter on his long lashes. “Then maybe we’ll see about endings, huh?” 

You don’t speak for a moment. Simply swallow in the near-dark. But, it is not lost on him that you hold him just a shade tighter. Then, when he hears a gentle intake of breath from you, he knows your request before you even utter it. 

Please. 

He resumes his singing. Slower, more off tempo. Begins to repeat the lines, over and over, softer and softer, until your breathing is deep and soporific. Until your weight on him is heavier. Heavier from sleep, and heavier from this new knowledge he has gained. 

And, there it is. The end of the night, and yet Santiago cannot dream of sleeping. Not yet. Can only watch you, hold you, listen to your soft breathing, his heart full with a new understanding. And understanding he didn’t invite, but a welcome guest all the same. 

He resolves it then. Resolves that, even if he doesn’t deserve a happy ending, he will do everything in his power to make sure you get yours… 

Even if that means letting all hope of you -for him- go. 

So, as he cradles you in his arms and stares unsleeping up at the ugly ceiling fan, Santiago contemplates it. 

Contemplates in great detail the four days with you that irrevocably changed the course of his life. 

The day he met you.

The day he almost lost you. 

The day he realised he was in love with you. 

And the day he started running from that.

The first day had been two years ago, the second had been five months ago, the third had been today, and the fourth? 

The fourth will be tomorrow. 

Tomorrow, he will start running, because his feelings for you are far too deep and huge for him to handle. 

He doesn’t even pause to wonder whether he’ll ever allow himself to stop. After all, once Santiago Garcia has a mission, he accepts nothing less than completion. 

Maybe he’s no hero; but he always gets the job done. 

[matchadobo]

KIDD; overnight

wc: 1656 summary: stranger to lovers college au warning/s: none, sfw, afab reader, my writing style kind of changed here, idk if i like or hate it

you had just moved in your college dorm and your mates have invited you to go on the nearby bars fellow university students also go to, a mixer of some sort. you were kind of iffy about taking up the offer because crowds really weren't your thing, but this was an opportunity to meet people which would later be good for you. so you accepted it. only to have your mates wasted in the process, no companions whatsoever you sat alone in the bar. tons of creeps tried having their way with you, but you politely declined to avoid further conflicts.

that is until, he approached you. shimmying between the men surrounding you and thanks to his size, they backed off given his bold demeanor. tousled, red hair, pearly skin, sharp, golden eyes, and tinted lips curled into a scowl. surrounded by big scary men, this fellow seemed to be set apart from that criterion despite his aura.

he'd scare off the guys with just two words, "get lost." he'd soon ask if you were okay and tells you off to not be alone here at night. you reasoned out with your current situation and he snickered, "some friends you have." he'd then order a shot of scotch for you and him and ask, "do you wanna get outta here?" he'd stare directly into your eyes, genuinely waiting for you to answer despite taking a long time. "don't overthink it. but let me tell you something, you won't regret it if you humor me."

you were hesitant to comply but, god, was he so attractive. he didn't seem to have bad intentions either, after all he just saved you from a world of hurt. typically, going out with strangers is a big no-no, but there was something about him that draw you to him and you're eager to find out, to find him out. so you decided to fuck it, what's the worst that could happen?

so you'd go with him as he led you away from the bar. you walked alongside him on the busy nights of your town. your hands clasped behind your back and his were buried in either of his pockets as you two strolled to a more quiet road. you'd ask him his name and you tell yours, ask what his major is and exchange jokes here and there.

he goes by eustass kidd, he majors in metallurgical engineering and is a year older than you. he likes hanging out by the skateparks, karaoke and studio booths, arcades and bowling alleys, and that bar earlier where he and his mates do some gigs every now and then. he also lives a block away from your dorm house.

so you ask him where you two are going, he'll brush you off and tell you to be patient, snickering when he sees your puzzled expression. until you two reach a what seemed to be an abandoned carnival. it was dark and some crows were hanging around the railings. he'd look over his shoulder and tell you, "i always come here but got no one to take." you answered, "so i'm your first one here, huh?" he'd look down and chuckle, "and if i said yes?" you responded before walking away, "i'm special then."

you walked across the dimly lit place, rides with colorful designs are now muted from dirt and its age. to your surprise, the place suddenly illuminated from the variety of lights that chorused with the rides running. you looked behind you and saw kidd smiling with his arms crossed after he emerged from what seemed to be a staff booth. he sauntered towards you, "well? what're you waiting for?" the lights radiated the features of both of your faces. you responded with a smile and grabbed his wrist as you two headed straight for the drop tower, "you."

the both of you spent the night scaring yourselves from the horror houses and going ride after ride until you two got sick to your stomachs. you asked him when you two rode by the ferris wheel that moved a little too dangerous, "what made you think you should take me here?" he shrugged, before looking back at you. "hell if i know, guess you're a special case." a swarm of butterflies brushed by your stomach, rendering you a smiling idiot.

you didn't seem to notice the how fast the time flew by. you two decided to eat at the nearby diner that's open for twenty-four hours, his treat he says. you gazed at the clock and almost spat all the food you've eaten. you almost lost all air if it weren't for his firm but gentle pats on your back, he gave you water after stifling his laughter. "the hell happened to you?"

you hit him after catching your breath. "you jackass, i have first period in an hour!" you packed your stuff and hurried on your way back after thanking him for breakfast and bidding goodbye. he also waved at you and ate your leftovers.

your first period went by like a fever dream, running on no sleep and a full stomach. the high of your borderline date with that charming redhead was the only thing keeping you awake. the sheen of his amber orbs when he intently looks at you every time you talk, the way his canines tug by his lips with each smile and laugh, his playful insults that get sharper with each of your comeback, the way your knees touch when you two sit together and it sends electricity coursing through your veins, and how his wintry metallic scent never left your clothes and sinuses. the day went on and you didn't have the chance to see him again.

the next day, you found him waiting by the door of your last class when you left the room. he waved at you from afar, your friends asked you who that UNIT of a man was that seemed to be waiting for you. clad in a black, silk muscle tee that accentuated the tone of his body and jeans also in the same color, a simple outfit that seemed too deadly for you.

so you made your way towards him and asked, "what are you doing here? how the the hell did you find out my class?" he replied with a grin, "you told me the other day you wanted to hang out today, right? got your head in a flurry, coineanach (bunny)?" he ruffled your hair afterward, continuing. "you seem to badly need a break, aye? come, i'll give you a real stress reliever." you let him put an arm around you because you seem to fall on your knees from the weariness or for that fluttery feeling that suddenly washed over you. you gazed up at him, "this better pull me out of drowsiness, eustass." he chuckled lightly, "oh this'll wake you up, sleepyhead."

he took you to the same bar you two met, meeting up with who seemed to be his friends and waving at them from afar. then it all occurred to you, you looked at him with utmost anticipation. "you're gonna play?!" he smiled as he nodded at you, introducing you to his bandmates. he soon got on stage with them, giving you a wink before starting their performance. it made you question whatever the hell you two got going on; how he touches you, how he talks to you, how he looks at you, why he took you here, and how will this progress. it was a full-fledged war in your head. how attractive he looks while performing certainly did not help in sorting out your thoughts and calming down your heart.

the band dominated the bar, the thumping of drums and cheers of the crowd had taken the pandemonium up a notch. you soon got tipsy with the drinks to try and relieve yourself from the chaos that is your heart and mind. you didn't notice that the performance was already over and kidd was tapping your shoulder. "did that woke you up?" you noticed that he was a little too close to you so you can hear and see him because of the packed bar, you flushed red at the proximity that the mild scent of rum from his mouth wafted in your nose, so you excused yourself. he was calling after you but you blurred him out because you terribly need fresh fucking air.

you catch your breath, chest heaving as you held on your knees for support. you hear the door behind you open and shut again. "hey name, what was that? are you okay?" he placed a hand on your shoulder, only for you to flinch. "alright, damn. did you hate our performance that much? the fuck's going on?"

you started, "why did you take me here?" he took a few minutes before answering, "cuz i wanted you to see me play, if it ain't your taste that's fine-" you cut him off, "that is not what i mean, okay?! y-you were amazing back there."

with your words he suddenly grew smitten, like he read you so successfully and figured out why you're acting like a wreck. "yeah? you think so?" your eyes were frantic and your chest was in rampage, you couldn't look him in the eye and you kept chewing on your bottom lip. he stood dangerously close to you, his fingers raised your chin so he could have a good look at your flustered face. "you know why i was so amazing back there? it's 'cause you were watching, wanted to show off to this pretty girl i have my eye on." he tucked a hair by your ear, fingers ghosting by your cheek before it landed on your jaw. "seems i did well to do so, hm?"

you finally mustered out words, "so you feel the same way? you've been driving me nuts since i got here." he laughed, hugging you by your neck. "why do you think i'd take you to that carnival, huh?"

there was silence as you two basked in each other's embrace. until kidd blurted out, "your heart is beating like fucking crazy, damn i did that?!" you hit his arm and hid your heating face in his chest as he continued to tease and make fun of you.

this is kind of all over the place??? lmao

[sadslay]

HEY can you dorg a rick grimes x readertsxdr wbere its enemies to lovers i really life your fsanfics AND think rhye are super cool.

- CLOSER⋆☆ 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings — depictions of heavy violence & gore, coarse language, mentions of cannibalism [terminus era], light nsfw content/fluff

if there is true evil in this world, it lies in the heart of man kind.

when the world fell it became all the more evident that evil was rooted into humanity, and it only took a devastating, world-ending event for me to realise. those who were left in the world didn’t need to fear the dead that roamed the earth but instead they should fear the people that survived.

after weeks of traveling up and down the various railways running across georgia i was finally on my way home. my back ached and my feet were almost numb. i had been walking all night, never stopping because if i did, there was no way i’d be able to start again. i had endured weeks of unrest and uncertainty all to avoid the brutalities of my brother's ideologies.

not that my brother knew but the real reason i left our hellish home was to protect the greater good, not because i particularly cared but because i couldn’t bare seeing helpless people coming to us for refuge only to be thrown in train carts to have their heads served on a platter days later.

i dreaded each step that pulled me closer to home. every part of me just wanted to turn around and forget about everything i had left behind but i couldn’t. as evil as they were, they were still my family. as my eyes rose to the horizon - the sun barely peaking through the tree line - i noticed something about a mile down the road. i momentarily froze, my eyes narrowing as i focused on the pair.

it was two men, leaned up against an old rusted vehicle, causing my steps slow as i continued to cautiously creep closer. listening to them closely, i began to listen in to their quiet conversation. one man was wearing a leather vest and had straight hair that went past his ears while the man beside him was wearing a brown suede jacket and his hair was curled and tinted slightly red, along with his beard and chin.

i moved off the road, walking towards the treeline only to catch their attention seconds later. "hey!" one of the men yelled as they both rose to their feet.

my hands rose into the air in the blink of an eye, choosing to leave my pistol hidden as i crept back onto the road. “i don’t want any trouble.” i spoke firmly, my eyes wandering between the two men as the man with curled air pulled a barrelled colt python, keeping two hands on the gun as he kept it pointed to the ground. “m’just passin’ through.”

"passin' through?" one of the men asked, his southern accent as clear as day as his head tilted to the side by half an inch.

i nodded, staying still as i stood opposite to the two men. "just headin' home." i added, lowering my hands slightly, only for the man's gun to rise. "will you get that thing outta my face?" i scoffed, my hands freezing beside my shoulders.

the bloodied man looked at me for a moment before lowering his gun, placing it back inside the holster attached to the belt sitting around his waist.

"you have a group?" he asked, both his hands resting on his hips.

i shrugged weakly, finally dropping my hands back to my side. "guess you could call 'em that." i mumbled, internally debating if i should tell the two men of terminus, although i'm sure my brother would find a use for them.

“that didn’t answer my question.” the man with the gun quickly responded, his southern accent thickening as he spoke.

"kinda did," i smirked, weakly shrugging my shoulders as my eyes narrowed. a moment of silence fell between the three of us, the soft wind blowing through our hair as we all stood on the long-abandoned road. "can i go now?" i asked.

the two men looked at each other before their cold eyes returned to mine. "you heard about terminus?" he asked, his hand momentarily leaving his hip to vaguely point in the direction of the community before returning to his hip.

"yeah." i responded nonchalantly shrugging my shoulders. "if yer know what's good for ya, you'll stay away."

i'd soon realize my word of warning was not merely threatening enough to keep them away.

i was standing beside the grill where my mother was cooking some of the freshly marinated mystery meat when a grin appeared on my mother's lips. "hi," she smiled. "heard you came through the back door, smart." she added, causing me to spin around to find the two men from the highway along with a tall slender woman, holding a katana and a younger boy wearing a brown sheriff's hat wandering towards us. "you'll fit right in here." she added, flipping a small portion of meat.

shit.

"hey mary, could you fix each of these new folks a plate for me?" alex asked, briefly looking across at me, giving me a weak nod.

that's when he looked at me, his eyes filled with a type of betrayal that cut deep. only when the woman with dark brown hickory dreadlocks spoke.

"why do you do it?" she asked, stopping a few feet away from the grill that alex and i stood in front of. "why do you let people in?"

alex offered them a smile, taking two plates from my mother's hands. "the more people become a part of this, we get stronger." he explained, a sentence i had heard dozens of times. "that's why we put up the signs," my eyes met the man's standing behind the woman, his face now clean from blood. "invite people in. it's how we survive." alex continued, began to wander over to the younger boy, extending one of the plates to him before mumbling, "here." before giving the second plate to the woman.

i took the next set of paper plates from my mother before wandering across to the two men who i had met on the highway mere hours before. his eyes were now focused on alex, scanning his body carefully before stopping at the pocket watch that dangled from his waist. his icy blue eyes snapped in my direction as i took another step closer, and all in a heartbeat he had smacked the plates of food from my hand before wrapping one hand across the top of my chest, pulling me up against his chest as the end of his gun rested against my temple.

"where the hell you get that watch?" the man snapped, looking at alex as he kept my body restrained against his.

"put the gun down!" alex stressed, stepping back as the stranger's weapons rose, creating a spaced-out semi-circle defending the unappointed leader of the small group.

my hands latched onto his forearm, trying to ease the immense amount of pressure he had applied to my chest. "you want answers handsome?" i sneered, my voice lower as my face paralleled his. "put down the gun 'n i'll give 'em to ya." i tired to bargain, keeping my voice low.

"i see your man on the roof with a sniper rifle." he spat, tightening his grip across my decolletage as his fingers dug into my shoulder. "how good's his aim?" he snickered, his hot breath blowing onto my cheek before he turned his attention back to alex. "where'd you get the watch?" he yelled, his voice demanding and stern.

"don't do anything! just put the gun down!" alex's instructed, his voice weary and riddled with nerves.

i let out a sigh as i noticed alex trembling, his very cowardness making me roll my eyes. "i've got it." i muttered, causing alex to look at me before turning to the sniper on the roof. "tell 'em to back off." i instructed.

although the idiot was my brother, it didn’t mean i liked him. he cowered at the first sign of danger, his entire body would shake and he could be incapable of forming a complete sentence without becoming a stuttering mess. so when he turned back to look at our mother, it didn't surprise me that he wanted her approval.

"back down!" mary yelled, causing the sniper from the rooftop to disappear.

"listen to me." i snapped, keeping my voice relatively quiet giving us some sort of privacy as everyone stood three or four feet away. "there's a lot of 'em, be smart about this," i whispered near his ear, causing him to shoot me a look of disgust.

"where'd he get the watch?" the man repeated, beginning to sound a little like a broken record.

scoffing at his question, i turned my head a little more, his coarse beard tickling my cheek. "i don't know." i hissed. "i got here an hour before you did." i spat.

"what about the riot gear?" he questioned, turning his body to face a man a few meters away covered in black riot gear, taking my body with his as he spun again to face a blonde woman wearing a red poncho. "the poncho?" he snapped in my ear.

before i could respond, my brother walked into the courtyard, his hands up by his shoulders. "got the riot gear off a dead cop." gareth explained, the man spinning in the direction of my brothers voice, taking me with him. "found the poncho on a clothesline." he added.

i pushed myself onto the tips of my toes and leaned into his before whispering, "don't trust him."

the stranger flashed me a look of confusion before turning his focus to my brother, breifly point his gun at gareth before pushing it back into the side of my head.

"you talk to me!" he demanded.

"what's there left to say?" gareth queried, his eyebrows pinching together as he continued. "you don't trust us anymore."

"gareth!" i snapped, only for him to bitterly snap, "shut, up. it's okay." he took in a breath of air before continuing. "rick what do you want?" gareth asked.

rick. now i had a name for the idiot that didn't listen to me.

"where are our people?" rick yelled, his grip tightening even further as my skin began to turn into an ivory white from the pressure.

a devilish laugh escaped from gareths lips. "you didn't answer the question."

bullet shells littered the floor. a bullet scrapped across my shoulder causing me to fall to the group as rick and his people ran off. by the time i had gotten back up to my feet they were gone and the commotion had gone with them.

⋆☆⋆

watching gareth’s goons bring in rick and few other people from the train cars and lining up along the slop trays, i stood by gareth with my assault rifle in hand. eight men were lined up, each of them squirming and fidgeting as butchers worked beside them on medical tables, cutting into the bodies of unidentified victims. victims that had been taken while i was gone.

“alright.” gareth mumbled, giving his goons the okay to complete the brutal task of taking out each of the men.

a man with a bat swung the silver weapon hitting a young blonde man on the opposite end to rick and the other man from the highway. as he fell unconscious, a second man wearing a clear apron using his hand to pull up his head before slicing his throat, allowing a crimson fountain to spew from his neck into the tray.

the men began to grunt and scream as the goons moved along to the next victim. as i stood beside gareth, i looked across to find him watching each slaughter intently. he was no longer my brother. in the weeks that i had been gone gareth had turned into an unrecognizable monster. i had known about the cannibalistic urges that had consumed gareth before i left but when i returned, i had discovered how bad it had become.

“what are you doin’ this for?” i asked in a hushed whisper, my eyes remaining focused on rick and the man from the highway as they stared right back at me. “they look somewhat useful.”

i could feel gareth’s eyes watching me, his eyes burning holes into the side of my head before turning his attention back to the slop trays. “they’re threats.” he answered plainly. “hey guys!” gareth called out, catching the attention of his goons. “what were your shot counts?” he asked, pulling out a note book and pencil from his back pocket.

“38.” the man with the knife answered, standing behind the next victim waiting for them to be knocked out.

“hey!” gareth yelled, catching the attention of the good with the bat. “your shot count?” he asked.

“crap man, i’m sorry.” he sighed, causing gareth to let out a disappointing sigh. “it was my first round up.” the man weakly defended.

“after you done here, go back and count the shells.” gareth instructed. “kaylee won’t be gathering them until tomorrow.” he added, beginning to write a note down in his book. “four from a, four from d.” he began to count, wandering closer to the remaining men.

a man beside rick, that i hadn’t seen before began to squirm before grunting, “hey, let me talk to you for a minute.” his voice was muffled as he repeated, “let me talk to you!”

gareth sighed before reaching out to the man, pulling the cloth from his mouth. “what?” he spat.

“don’t do this.” he pleaded. “we can fix this.”

“no you can’t.” gareth replied nonchalantly, attempting to pull the cloth back into the mans mouth as continued to reason with my brother.

before gareth could put the cloth into the mans mouth, he continued. “you don’t have to do this.” he repeated. “we told you theres a way out of all of this.” he tried to reason, taking a few heavy breaths before continuing. “you just have to take a chance. we have a man that knows how to stop it.”

did he mean a cure?

gareth looked up from his book. “he has a cure. we just have to get him to washington.” the desperate man explained. “you don’t have to do this man. we can out the world back the way it was.”

“we can’t go back bob.” gareth mumbled, finally shoving the cloth into bobs mouth causing him to mumble gibberish.

he then knelt down in front of rick, taking the cloth from his mouth before muttering, “saw you go into the woods with a bag and come out without it.” he paused for a second, rick turning his head to the right by half an inch. “had to pull my spotters back before we could go look for it.” gareth explained. “what was in it?” he asked, waiting for ricks response but got nothing. “you hid it right? incase things went bad. smart.” he weakly grinned. “we’ll find it but it’s too dangerous to go out there right now.”

gareth had become to desperate. he pulled his knife out of his pocket, pointing it at bobs neck. “what was in it?” he snapped. “i’m curious, and it was a big bag. you really gonna let me do this?” he asked, flicking his head in bob’s direction.

“well let me take you out there.” rick responded, no doubt pissing gareth off more then he already was. “i’ll show you.” he continued.

“not gonna happen.” gareth responded sharply. “this might.” he added, once again his head motioning towards bob.

“there’s guns in it.” rick finally answered. “ak 47, 44 magnum, automatic weapons, night-scope, a compound bow and a machete with a red handle.” he listed. “thats what i’m gonna use to kill you.”

bold. threatening your captor as he had a knife pressed up to your friends neck? very bold.

gareth laughed, shoving the cloth back into his mouth before patting ricks shoulders. “thanks.” he smiled, walking back towards me as he put his notebook into his back pocket. “you have two hours to get them on the dryers. i’m gonna go back to the public face. we need to dial it all in by sundown!” he instructed.

but before his goons could respond, gunshots came from outside and just as gareth went to radio more of his men, a ground shaking boom went off causing us to all loose balance.

“stay here until i know what’s going on!” gareth yelled, running out of the room, leaving me and three of his goods with the four prisoners.

“so we just sit here?” the man asked me as i regained my ground, standing on my feet with my rifle firmly in my hand.

“you got a job to do.” i instructed, motioning towards the men that was fallen.

this was one of the few times i was grateful to be on gareths good side. i had a silencer attached to the end of my assault rifle which allowed me to take down the two butchers on the other side of the room without the brainless goons noticing. and with two more shots - each of them to the head - both of those brainless goons were on the floor, leaving the four prisoners startled.

slinging my gun over my shoulder i ran over to the four men, pulled my knife out the black leather holster strapped to my thigh. i knelt down, cutting the zip ties that had been used to keep them restrained. as i began to cut bobs i looked across and rick and the others.

“out that door, theres a hallway that leads to the armoury, all your shits in there.” i explained, motioning my head towards the door gareth had gone through moments prior. “you get your people ‘n get outta here.” i added, moving across to rick, beginning to cut through the tie.

“thank you.” bob spoke, his voice shaky but genuine as he stood up to begin searching the room for a weapon. “why are you helping us?” he asked.

i scoffed as i cut through rick’s zip tie, allowing him to stand up, following bob’s actions of looking for a weapon. “i should’ve taken down all those stupid signs.” i muttered, moving along to the man from the highway, beginning to cut through the zip tie.

“why didn’t you?” rick asked, his hand pointing at me accusingly.

“i thought he might’ve changed!” i snapped, moving along to the final prisoner. “doesn’t matter now,” i mumbled to myself. “i can get out to that tree-line where y’all hid your bag in about five minutes.” i announced to the group of men. “i’ve got a view of the train yard from there so i can keep an eye out for you and your people.”

“why should we trust you?” rick muttered, his voice bitter and mistrusting as i freed the last man. "you could've told us this place wasn't safe."

i stood up, handing my knife to the man i had just freed before turning to the others. "do you have dementia?" i asked rhetorically. "i warned you assholes not to come here." i snapped, taking a step closer to rick, looking up into his eyes as i muttered, “you don’ have to listen to me, but my brother’ll kill the lot of yer the first chance he gets.”

rick did nothing. he just stared at me. rolling my eyes at the mans stubbornness, i pushed past him, wandering towards a door that led out to the courtyard, disappearing from their sight.

⋆☆⋆

i watched ricks group - larger then i thought- run towards the tree line i had been hiding in for the past hour or so. hundreds of geeks swarmed terminus as flames bellowed from the numerous builds and warehouses. by the time i had reached the group they were preparing to leave. swinging my gun over my shoulder - not wanting the significantly large group to think i was a threat - i quietly approached them. as i grew closer, i made the idiotic mistake of stepping on a dried stick, sending a loud crack throughout the woods.

"the hell are you doin' 'ere?" the man from the highway spat, pulling away from a lady that had short grey hair.

"i just saved your life jackass, a thanks would be nice." i snapped, continuing to walk closer to group.

a tall man with amber hair and a thick mustache stepped forward from the outer circle of the group, both his hands holding onto some sort of military grade machine gun. "i'm sorry honey, who the hell are you?" he asked in an even thicker southern accent then ricks.

"she saved our lives." a man spoke sternly, his hand extended holding my bowie knife i had given him no more then an hour prior. it was the man from the slop trays. "here." he smiled.

"save is a strong word." rick muttered, his eyes meeting mine a few seconds later. his hand sat on his hip - which seemed to be a habit of his - while the other wiped the bottom half of his face. "we barely made it out alive." he spoke a little louder.

choosing to ignore rick's idiotic comment, i turned my attention to bob. "you." i pointed at the stranger. "you serious about that cure?" i asked.

bob nodded along to my question before turning a dark haired man standing beside the taller redheaded man. he had a black mullet and a poorly shaven face, he was also shaking as he stepped forward, one hand rising into the air as he spoke, "that would be correct ma'am." he answered, also having a thick southerner accent. "my names eugene porter and i know the cure to save this mess." he spoke proudly.

"you still need a ride to washington?" i asked, my attention remaining on the two men standing beside each other.

"we-well yess ma'am." eugene stammered.

"i know a place 'bout a days way from here." i noted, nodding my head in the general direction. "s'got a bus round the back, s'been there since the beginnin'." i added, the very news making the two men smile.

"nah." the man from the highway grumbled, causing me to spin in his direction as i let out a sigh of frustration. "las' time we listened to you we ended up 'ere." he spat bitterly, throwing his hand across his chest as his jaw clenched.

"sorry, listened to me?" i repeated sarcastically, my eyes widening in shock as the man stood there, looking at me as if he was ready to knock me out. "i told you fuckin' idiots to stay the hell away." i spat, my voice unintentionally rising as i grew more frustrated.

"hey!" the man with the moustache hissed, causing me to spin back in his direction. "where the shit is this damn bus?" he demanded, taking another step closer to me.

i exhaled through my nose, trying to control my temper as i explained, "'bout a days trip." i repeated. "n' if it's alright with eugene i'd like to help-"

"you're not comin' with us." rick cut in, his voice forceful and alarming as he stepped closer to me, making sure his point was heard.

looking up at rick, who stood a foot or so away from me, i forced a smile onto my lips. "didn't ask you cowboy."

"hey!" another voice cut in, this time a woman i hadn't seen before. "she's got a bus, lets just check it out." she insisted, her eyes focused on rick as he seemed to be some sort of leader amongst the group.

"fine." he grumbled, his jaw remaining clenched as his head tilted to its side, another mannerism that he commonly did. "but hand over your weapons." rick bargained.

i turned to face rick, our bodies now parallel to each other as looked up at the infuriating man. "i ain't givin' you shit." i spat. "we're surrounded by geeks n'i need to protect myself." i explained, although nothing was getting through his dense stubborn head.

"it's not negotiable."

⋆☆⋆

walking up the squeaky white church steps behind ricks group, listening as he interrogated the priest that had let us into the church to begin with. it was poorly lit but well kept as we wall stood in the isle, listening to rick as he continued with his questions.

“how’d you survive here for so long?” he asked, holding his daughter, judith on his hip. “where did your supplies come from?” rick continued.

“luck.” the priest answered. “our annual canned food drive, things fell apart right after we finished.” he continued, a grin plastered on his lips. “it was just me.” he continued as rick passed his daughter to carl, who i had learned was his son. “the food lasted a long time, ‘n then i started scavenging. i’ve cleaned out every place near by.” he paused for a moment before continuing. “except for one.”

“what kept you from it?” rick asked, resting his hand on his hip.

“it’s overrun.”

thats how i ended up waist deep in mirky, geek filled water in a thrift store basement. it was a situation i did not intend on being apart of, but here i was, marching through the grey water to protect the wimpy priest had run and frozen to avoid an old withered librarian.

rick was taking down a near by geek that had lunged towards him in the blink of an eye, allowing me to take one step forward before grabbing onto the back of the librarians head. with all my body weight i pushed the decaying body toward a near by shelf, smashing the geeks head against the metal pole. the sounds of its skull cracking and its blood oozing down into the water let me know my job was done.

"grow a pair dude." i huffed, pushing decaying body into the water before scanning the near by shelf for canned goods.

sudden movement coming from the opposite side of the small flood room caught my attention seconds later. by the time i had tracked through the filthy water, sasha was lifting a plastic container above her head before slamming it down onto the head of the water bloated geek. once the commotion had simmered down, i spun around to collect more unspoiled cans only to bump right into rick.

our bodies pushed right up against one another as his calloused hands firmly held onto my shoulders. the sudden closeness caused me to freeze. his frame was undeniably larger then mine as his body towered over mine, a few damp curls falling forward as he looked down at me. as much as he was overbearing and generally unpleasant, i couldn't deny that he was somewhat alluring.

"you alright?" rick asked, pulling me out of my hypnotic state allowing my eyes to meet his.

i pulled myself away from his grip, weakly nodding. "fine." i mumbled, pushing past him to begin the tedious job of gathering all the canned goods.

⋆☆⋆

holding onto the wooden shovel with both my hands as i dug further into the ground, i heard chatter coming from inside the church. rick and his people were deciding what to do with my brother and the last remaining people of terminus. i continued to dig a shallow grave as the group squabbled and fought over the fate of people i used to call my friends and family. my back ached and my arms felt like jello as i finished off the four foot deep hole -no where near deep enough to bury each and every body - before turning to face the group.

“we’re burnin’ ‘em!” i announced, causing every pair of eyes to look over at me in the dimly lit moon light.

“why?” abraham asked, his voice sounding almost sarcastic as he stood meters away from me with bloodied fists. “this ain’t the time for barbecuin’ sweetheart.” he chortled, his very words causing me to scoff as i pushed the shovel to the ground.

“we’re burning them.” i repeated more clearly, taking a step or two closer to the group as i continued, “‘til there’s nothing left but bone ‘n ash.” i pushed my way past the group, making my way to the first body lying on the church floor. “now, you can either help me or fuck right off.” i spat as i picked up the mans hands, pulling them over my shoulders like a backpack before pulling the heavy corpse back outside.

a trail of deep red blood followed me as i pulled the body outside, nonchalantly dropping the body into the newly dug hole before marching back inside to find the group had dispersed, the only person remaining was rick. he stood and watched me closely as i made my way to the next bloodied body, beginning to pull their body towards the door.

“you jus’ gonna stand there ‘n watch me, or yer gonna help cowboy?” i asked, never once stopping as i neared the church steps.

without speakinh rick held onto the mans feet, lifting him up as he helped me carry the corpse down the steps before dumping it into the near by grave. we continued this same action two or three more times before we eventually reached my brother. i stood by the almost unrecognizable face, frozen as i had realized he was finally gone. my last piece of surviving family had been torn away from me in front of my very eyes but here i stood, helping the very man that killed him, drag his body out to the mass grave.

“you alright?” rick asked, his voice almost startling me after almost half an hour of silence.

i looked up at the man, his greying beard more prominent in this lighting as the moon shone through the church windows. “m’fine.” i hummed. “there wasn’t much left of him anyway.” i added, picking up his shoulder as rick picked up his feet.

another silence fell between us as we pushed my brothers body into the now full grave. as rick stepped back, i leant forward, grasping onto my brother as i search his pockets, finding a lighter. standing up, above gareth as he laid limp brought me a sense of closure as i sparked the lighter, watching the small orange flame flicker in the wind before dropping it into the grave. the bodies were soon engulfed in flames as i stepped back, sitting down on the near by steps where rick followed my actions.

“m’sorry about bob.” i spoke quietly, as the church doors blew shut while i watched the flames roar as smoke bellowed into the skies above.

“it wasn’t your fault.” he spoke calmly, almost authoritatively as he watched me closed from the other side of the steps, mirroring my action of leaning up against the balustrades.

i let out a breathy chuckle at ricks generic response. “i’ve been takin’ the blame for his shit since we were kids.” i mumbled, my laughter slowly fading as i was reminded of the terrible person he had become within the last year or so. “he wasn’t always like this you know.” i spoke, my voice a little softer, almost sympathetic.

“a cannibal?” rick questioned, a weak smirk creeping onto his lips as he looked across to meet my eyes.

i let out a giggle before muttering, “yeah.” i took in a deep breath of the cool night air, the smell of burning flesh now beginning to fill the air as the fire continued to grow. “‘nd ‘n asshole.” i added earning a weak exhale of laughter to slip from ricks lips. “he was actually a good guy, but this world changes people right?” i asked, my question filled with rhetoric intent but more or less sounded like a genuine question that required an answer.

“right.” rick replied.

i looked across at rick, his face lit up by the auburn flames detailing every feature, especially his eyes. “did it change you?” i asked after a beat of deafening silence, observing him as his eyes looked back at me.

i knew the answer. i think we both did. the world changed you, no matter who you were before, but as i sat beside rick, no more then a foot or so away from him i almost saw a glimpse of an older version of him. the way his eyes looked into mine and the way he had himself positioned showed me who rick was before all of this. he was no longer the up tight, overbearing asshole i had gotten to know over the past few days.

i turned to the side, my body now facing rick as i asked, “your not scared of me are you?” not giving rick an opportunity to answer my last question.

“could ask you the same thing.” he mumbled, his head cocking to the side as he now mirrored me, our bodies paralleled with one another.

a laughed escaped my lips as my eyebrows pinched together as i tried to decipher the meaning of bus question. “why should i be scared of you?” i teased, already building a list in my mind of all the reasons a normal person would fear rick grimes.

“i’ve killed people.” rick spoke quietly.

“who hasn’t?” i replied sarcastically, weakly shrugging my shoulders.

“innocent people.” he added.

“so have i.” i compared, knowing there was no possible way that anyone could top the things ive done. “‘nd not just at terminus.” i added. “we do what we need to survive.”

“i killed your people.” rick challenged. “your family.” he added, his head slightly tilted to the side as he waited for my response.

“trust me, if i had an inkling of love left for my family you’d be in a whole world’a hurt.” i teased, earning a breathy chuckle from the man before he lent in closer.

his soft breath tickled my cheek as he whispered, “threaten me again and i’ll have you begging for me to stop.”

“i don’t beg.”

“we’ll see about that.” he smirked, his accent more apparent then ever as he inched a little closer.

i mimicked his actions by inching closer, his breath now hitting my lip as i mumbled, “you are infuriating,” in a low whisper.

as his lips parted, his hand began to rise. it felt like an entire life time but within seconds, ricks lips hovered near mine - barely touching - as his hand connected with my neck. the near by fire crackled on as his lips met with mine with desirous and ravenous intention. momentarily out bodies swayed together before his hand snaked its way down my body before resting at the tops of my hips. and suddenly everything began to move so quickly. ricks hands tugged at my hips, leaving them partly exposed as he pulled me across to his lap. i craved a sudden closeness, pulling myself closer to rick our bodies molded together like two puzzle pieces.

rick leant upwards, kissing you with every fibre in his body had his hands controlled your hips movements while your hands latched onto the base of his neck. his beard prickled against your lips while your finger tip’s entangled themselves in his dampened curls. after a moment you could feel ricks hand inching upwards, his cool finger tips creeping beneath your tightly fitted shirt as small gasps and moans left your lips. ricks hands quickly made their way back down to your hips, bringing to roll them to create some friction between you.

“who’s beggin’ now?”

this was my first time writing rick so- this is defs terrible- i am so sorry

[eluxcastar]

With a yandere s/o

── ୨୧：ky luc, urd geales, rígr stafford, shikama dōji x reader (separate)

୨୧﹑synopsis :: yandere s/o ideas let's gooo

୨୧﹑genre :: Idk tbh

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, repeated themes of obsession, yandere, unhealthy relationships, imagined relationships (rígr), it's implied shikama does a lot to them 💀, mostly proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 1.2k

I had this idea a while ago but I couldn't be bothered until now (<- me from literally over a year ago)

I FISHED THIS OUTTA THE DARKEST CORNERS OF THE DRAFTS TO FEED Y'ALL I can't even believe I'm about to do this it literally had green dividers from my THIRD Tumblr theme 😭 I wanna post more ONS content again though so expect it here and there. requests are a VERY hard maybe

── ୨୧：ky luc

Ky is entirely unbothered by this little arrangement you've made, letting you do as you please around him and indulging you in some of your little gestures of affection, all in exchange for keeping him fed straight from the source. You can sense Ky is not fully invested in this relationship-- may not even see it in the same light that you do. How dare he act so casually toward you. You wanted him to be less formal, but Ky is always brushing you off as 'livestock' that he claims to somewhat fancy, though not for anything but the taste of your blood.

In truth, he finds you quite strange. He has warned you before that you better not dare be too bold and involve yourself too personally in his affairs publicly. He's quick to remind you how easy it would be to kill you, all done with a hand to your throat and the blade forming around his hand as he offers to fulfil that promise immediately. He's noticed how overeager you are, and he almost doesn't like it. Ky doesn't trust you on your own; he's put off by how strangely you act. He's tried to tell you a million times he does not and cannot love you, but each time, you go crawling back to him, begging him to continue your deal.

Ky has figured out he can use your own adoration and idolisation of him against you because you will keep falling for the things he says for now. He knows he can offer even shallow acts only vaguely reminiscent of lovers, and you'd do it in a heartbeat. You're somehow so stubborn yet so easy to control, and he takes advantage of that to the full extent, watching you run around like a headless chicken trying to please him. It's entertaining to know you still somehow think this is moving you up some kind of ladder closer to him accepting your love without a deal.

── ୨୧：urd geales

Urd has developed a growing tolerance for you ever since you first appeared and kept appearing in the places he was going you could access. You seemed too nervous to talk every time he approached, so he had to wait until you began your advances, and once they started, they didn't stop. He hated to admit that a part of him was strangely enamoured by the idea that maybe if he let your infatuation fester enough, you'd be the one person who would never leave, but he also knows you're extremely abusive at times.

You can't hurt him, nor could you dream of it, but it was saying too much that hurt him. You smothered him, babied him for a time and swore you'd hurt anyone who just so much as brushed against him too harshly for your tastes. It is uncontrollable, and Urd never knows if you'll go through with it. Urd tries to calm you down, but you've managed to convince yourself he's too nice, and this is how you'll 'protect' him from the world. You suffocate Urd so much that he doesn't know if you still think of him as an adult or as a child.

Urd requires your utmost attention, and there are many times he's considered ending your life so that you can't be a bother to the peace he's created, but he keeps getting drawn back. Urd knows if he leaves you to your devices and allows you to fuss over him, you'll be at ease, even if you seem to want to control him. If Urd lets you fuss, you stay put, and if you stay put, you won't leave to go anywhere. For a while, you'll remain with him, and he can subject himself to the headache for the reward.

── ୨୧：rígr stafford

This relationship you have with him always seems to go unnoticed. He ignores you all the time, he's never around, and he never pays even a hint of attention to you. You're glad to find yourself locked up because, for the first time in a while, he looks back at you with all of his attention. It's just like how you imagined it to be intense and with a strange interest that perhaps doesn't belong.

You're so glad he's finally started paying attention to you. This is much better than when you borrow his things and imagine him, the way he'd scold you for it, the disappointment you would think was visible on his face.

"I took more than just that." You confess just as he opens his mouth to speak and don't even allow him a chance to ask what you are doing. You keep idolising this man; you likely always will, adoring him and holding him on the pedestal he deserves. He can only shake his laugh at you and say something about how this is inevitable. He does this on purpose. He runs a cult. Everybody starts somewhere.

You have to hold back losing it on him because he doesn't seem to understand you are long past the isolation period of thinking him a God. You used to believe that, but not anymore. You used to feel dirty every time you took up his time, like the greatest sin you've committed, and you still revel in it. You are the mortal who dragged him from his place, and you will never truly allow him to leave you behind if he should leave this world. You must keep leaving him gifts and perhaps borrowing his personal items right under his nose. Couples share everything, don't they?

── ୨୧：shikama dōji

You're such a mild inconvenience to his plans that he almost doesn't even notice after a while, letting you indulge yourself as you ignore every single boundary he sets out for you. The only reason he sits you down and scolds you is that you got too close to something he's not eager to share. You follow his word like law. Once he figures out there is nothing you wouldn't do for him, there is seldom a thing he won't do to you. You are his everything, and not in a good way; his plaything is a better description.

He finds your infatuation with him to be of enough interest as it is, but you also pose a very good catalyst for all of his other questions about humans as well. At his fingertips is someone who would do anything that he asks in order to please him. You had better be good and do whatever he wants, and you might be rewarded for it, and though he's quite selfish to do this only for him, he is very good at pleasing you for your troubles. He won't make any exception for you, not when he's prizing you above the rest, which he reminds you is not to be treated lightly. It isn't fair for only you to get happiness, is it?

If keeping you on a chain makes you behave, even if you begin to grow bored of your obsession with him (which he doubts you will), he's become far too interested in what made you this way. He wants to know how far he can push, how long it will take you to fall out of this 'love', how much he can taunt you and use you for his own sick amusement. Not for the same reasons as you, but your reasons certainly make it easier.

[hoeforhao]

🪧. ⚜️ Eclipse ⚜️ Prologue // Wonwoo FF//

⸙͎ pairing: dad!wonwoo × fem!reader

⸙͎ synopsis: what happens when you meet your lover from your previous life, except this time he is a dad coupled with zero memories of you two.

⸙͎ genre: heavy angst, some fluff, reminiscing of memories, happy ending?

⸙͎warnings: war trauma, mention of death, ww2 era love, flashbacks, rebirth/reincarnation

⸙͎ word count: 437

⸙͎ author's note: hehe it's finally wonu month as well as mine!!! so this is my special series as a gift for both my and wonu's birthday♡

Lemme know if y'all want a happy ending or sad ending for this.

"Bubbles run fast, why are you tortoising through the hallway hmph" the little ball of joy kept dragging you down the gallery, galloping like an excited baby bunny, eager to introduce her favorite person with her other favorite human, a.k.a her father.

"I'm not an eleven year old, bursting with energy,kiddo like you Elara!!! Please run slow Ms" panting like a dog, you two finally reach the party venue, all decked up in peonies and gilded with stardust.

"There he is" one last swish from El and that's when your entire world stood still. A feline looking man, permed locks cascading down his forehead, face plastered with the biggest smile the world has ever witnessed while his eyes form the perfect cresents on the night sky of his temples.

I mean it's not that unnatural for women to be smitten by such beauty, right? But for you, he wasn't just another random nerdy looking man you've met on the streets, someone straight outta the books. No! H-he... he was your moon, one that eclipsed over your pain, your anger, your flaws and in return made you gleam the brightest in the galaxy.

☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.☆.

"Wonu-yah quick quick close your eyes and make a wish" you tightly press his biceps while bringing both of your palms together to wish upon the falling star.

"Yah silly girl, you know i don't believe in these." a slight mocking smile leaves wonwoo's lips as his lightly pinches your mochi cheeks to break your concentration.

"Yeah yeah sure sure! Why would you even need to wish for something when you have everything" getting up from the boulder you two were sharing and straddling your way through the beachy sand, you stomp away all angry.

"Okay okay I'm sorry bubbles. Tell me what you wished for" a pair of soft yet firm hands entrap your body from behind, while a cute stubby nose rests on your shoulder.

"For you to hold my hand in every universe and lead me through it. For you to always come home to me ; and for you to entwine me in your orbit in every life" single drops of tears making it way down your cheeks as you hold wonwoo's hands in yours. "W-we won't ever part tracks right? I wanna see the beauty of this world with you, enjoy each and every element only if you're there to clasp me into your arms through everything; and then finally bloom together from the soil again."

"You'll always be the star to my moon, darling. Never alone never separated, always shining bright together."

Oh only if they knew....

[tiredly101]

Part 3 : What would the reader's life be like after being taken to Welcome by Frank? Would the reader have freedom while with him or not?

And if the reader somehow found out that this was her plan and somehow got back into the real world ( perhaps with the help of her new puppet friends ), how far would Frank go to get her lover back? What would happen after all this?

Yesss, let's do this! Hope you like it Anon!

You look lovely

Howdy Pillar, Eddie Dear, Barnaby Beagle, Frank Frankly, Julie Joyful, Sally Starlet, All of them, Howdy's ending, Eddie and Frank, Eddie's ending, Wally's ending, Barnaby’s ending,

Pairing: Aware!Frank Frankly x Human!Gender neutral reader

Aware Frank Illustrated Au, picture done by @sweetest-honeybee

Nope, freedom is not an option for you. He loves you too much and you getting hurt is not a choice or thinking you can escape his lovely neighborhood

Doesn't stop you from trying and being successful at leaving, it was actually thanks to Howdy even though he didn't have any idea what he even helping with in the first place

Frank hated it, you were so close but so far away. He wanted you back, needed you back and so with his conspiracy boards and notebooks he started cooking up a plan

He managed to find you, he knocked you out and tied you up. He couldn't have you running off again, now could he?

I did tell you that Tv messed him up but you wouldn't listen, you just had to be stubborn and for that same reason you are hidden away, locked underground not ment to step outside without him ever again...

Of course, you went sick. Love sick to be specific, seeing the same person in a pitch of darkness outta do that to some one but Frank loved it! He thought you looked so pretty like that, obsessed and sick with love for him...

"You look lovely with those heart in your eyes!"

Here you go anon, you asked and I served so I hope you liked it!

[yutassweetangel]

Hi everyone!!! I'm so sorry I haven't written prt2 yet :[ but I'm still in the progress of doing so >_< so just be patient :D while u wait any love and deepspace lovers? Well if there are I made this rafayel fanfic. This was originally for two of my ocs, but I felt like it would also fit rafayel and mc. So, I hope you enjoy! (P.s I feel like prt 1 of the dohwa thing was to cliché and y/nie but ig it doesn't'matter?)also song iggggg this song is literally my fav song omg

Trigger warning : Angst , rafayel lore and some made up events!

"In another world...

would we still be together?" Rafayel asked you without a serious expression. "Huh? Why do you ask that?" You questioned with a raised brow, looking up from your phone. "Just answer..." He mummered with a slight pout. You chuckled before giving him a small smile. "Of course." That was the last conversation we had. The last thing I told him before I lost him. It was almost as if 'we' never existed. At least not in our worlds.

One day, you decided to contact Thomas about this. I mean why wouldn't you? Rafayel had gone radio silent for two weeks, well not after sending you a million text and missed calls, but you were too busy to read them. It's almost as if he never existed.

"Hello thomas?" You said to Thomas who was on the other side of your phone. "Hello? [Name]?" A sleepy thomas asked through the phone. "Woah, thomas, you ok?" You asked wearily. "Yeah. Just haven't slept for some days. Rafayel went missing." Your eyes widen as you almost dropped your phone on the ground.

"Hello?

"I'll call you back." You cut the call, and put your phone back in your bed you sat on. You put your hands on your face. You were shaking. Well, why wouldn't you? Rafayel had gone missing, and you weren't there for him. You got up, still in your pyjamas and grabbed your keys and your phone and ran to the door. Locking the door, you spot your next door neighbour watering some plants. You ran up to her, which startled her. "Hey, Miss. Lee, have you seen this man?" You asked, pulling up a photo of rafayel you had on your phone. Your neighbour, who was obviously still in shock at you running up to her, shoke her head. You thanked her for her time before running to other people to ask the same question.

———————————————————————————————————————

After some time of running around and asking people up and about, you came to a stop to catch your breath. You were sweaty, having ran around the whole of Linkon city. You bangs stuck to your sweaty forehead now (sorry if you didn't want bangs) and you had sweat patches under the armpits of your pyjamas. You looked up to see you were now in white sand bay. You walk for a while, feeling the ocean breeze on your skin before spotting someone.

"Rafayel?" You voice called out to him, and the purple hair turned to you with tears in his eyes. You ran up to him, and jumped on him, causing his head to land on the sand. Tears rolled down your eyes as you hugged him and he hugged you back, his hand on your head as he brushed your hair with his hands to calm you down. You felt a bottle of emotions come up. Yes, you were angry, but at the same time happy, all the while being sad. You didn't even know how to feel when you first saw him. At first you even wanted to hit him and yell at him.

Once you calmed down, the both of you sat down on the sand while drawing on the sand. Rafayel talked about his day, and asked about yours. "Well, I started my day with the shock of my life." You rolled your eyes at his question. "Oh?" You almost wanted to beat him up. Why did his oh have to sound sp attractive?

"Yeah. I woke up to find out that you were missing."

"Oh that..." He paused, looking down. Did he feel bad? "Yeah it worried the shit outta me!" You yelled at him, hitting his arm in the process. "Ow!" He exclaimed, pouting his signature pout at you. "Where were you? You had me worried." You looked at him with a sad expression and his face softened. "Give me your phone." He asked looking down at the phone beside you. "Wh-what-" Before you could even protest, he snatched your phone and unlocked it. He pointed the phone at you and showed you the text messages.

"[Name], where are you? I need you..." 8:34 am 15/7/24

"Are you there? Are you ignoring me on purpose? 12:04 pm 17/7/24

"I need to talk to you." 5 am 18/7/24

He pulled the phone away and looked down, with a sad expression on his face. One that looks like he's been holding for decades. You reached out to him, but pulled back. "I-im sorry." You managed to say after to long silence. "It's ok. It's not like I lost my aunt and the person I thought loved me ghosted me." You gasped at the new information. "Aunt talia died?" You asked as you put your hand on Rafayel's shoulder, maybe to give him a sense of comfort. You saw tears from in Rafayel's eyes, but he held back. "Yea.." he said quietly. "I-i-i didn't know..." You looked down at the drawing you two made; one of him and one of you. You looked at him with a gentle smile. "You don't have to hold back. I'm here for you. And I promise that next time I'm busy I'll tell you. I'll make time for you." Rafayel cried at your words. He let go of everything and cried beside you and you comforted him while he did.

Whether in this life time, or the next. You would always be together. Your made for each other, no. Your tied to each other for eternity. Fate would always bring you back to him.

... this kinda sucks... idk man. This was rushed-ish. But idk. I almost cried to this man. If it wasn't for my cousin who was beside me laughing to Pinterest >:[ she doesn't like rafayel cuz he's a fish and "flawless" but he has his his flaws >:( but ig its whateves. Nothing can me hate my little fish boi. Also I advise listen to it with the music, it makes everything better.

[honoviadakai]

What team Urameshi looks for in a partner 💚💙💜🖤

Yusuke:

So thankfully we already have a blueprint of what he likes

I present to you ✨Keiko Yukimura! ✨

This is the gold standard of what this man wants in his partner

He’s more female leaning buuuut I do get the vibe he’d be open to attempting to date men

He wants someone who isn’t afraid put him in his place when he’s getting out of hand

Someone that could put the fear of god in him with just one look

This dude fights demons on the reg, but the thing that will always scare the piss outta him is the partner he loves with all his soul being legit pissed at him

He also wants someone who’s smarter than him

He knows he’s an idiot, one of them has to be the smart one cuz it sure as hell ain’t this knucklehead 🥴

He won’t appreciate someone who’s controlling so please just let him take that long trip to demon world

He absolutely understands that sometimes asking for his partner to wait over 1 years for him to return is asking so much of a person’s patience but he will always appreciate and love his partner more for dealing with his shit

Once he does stay in one place, all he asks is that they just live life to the fullest everyday for the rest of their lives

Kuwabara:

Ok so like Yusuke, we also have a blueprint for Kuwabara!

✨the lovely Yukina✨

This is the type of person he wants as a lover

He wants someone who’s sweet & caring

Literally his bare minimum is that the person is capable of respect and empathy and has a kind enough soul to help when they can

He understands that they can’t help everyone in all situations

but it’s the drive to want to help everyone that he finds so attractive

He leans more towards preferring women but I have a feeling he’s experiment in his 20s

I don’t think he’d expect/want a combative partner

He’s more than capable of fighting to protect his lover so he’d rather they not fight, or at least not often

Deep down he’s scared to lose his lover because he wasn’t there for them so don’t think it’s because he thinks they’re weak

He absolutely doesn’t think his partner is weak! Ever!

Even if his partner is a healer, he recognizes the strength of heart to stay in a scary situation with a bunch of wounded people around them when they could run and no one would blame them for doing so

If anything he thinks he’s the weak one but wants to prove himself wrong by keeping his partner safe

He just wants that wholesome married life with a lover that loves him just as much as he loves them 😭🙏

Kurama:

Ok

So fox boy here is kinda tricky

Like in ever sense possible

Because he’s very much someone who feels very lax on preferences

Male or female?

Either is fine

Combatant or noncombatant

Either is fine

I think what it comes down to for him is intelligence and a strong bond

The intelligence point can go in either direction though

And I mean to the farthest extreme

Of course he’d like someone just as or even more intelligent than him

He likes having long adult conversations and let’s be honest…it’s not coming from his teammates 🤣

He like puzzles so having to work out how his partner thinks in his big foxy brain is very fun and enriching for him

But he also likes having conversations with people who are…we’ll use the word naive to be polite

Their world view is so innocent and pure and they’re usually very blunt so he’s just always gonna know what they’re thinking, it’s kinda refreshing tbh

What matters at the end of the day is that they’re loyal

He’s betrayed people before and people have betrayed him before

He knows what it’s like to be on both sides and he doesn’t want to cause his partner that kind of pain or be at the receiving end of that pain

Another big one for him is they absolutely, positively, must get along with his mom

And she’s gotta like them back

If they get him mom’s blessing, it’s basically a sealed deal for him

As far as he’s concerned, that’s the day they got married 🤣

If they want him to pull the ring out immediately, they gotta accept that he’s a demon

The moment he tells them about his past as Yoko and they take it super well

✨💍 ✨

Ngl, Yoko might come out to pounce them so fair warning

Also he’s a bit of a cheeky bastard who likes to tease and poke fun at people he’s comfortable with

His partner is no exception to this so he’s like them to have a sense of humor and not take life too seriously

Hiei:

Ooooh this guy

Oh this emotionally stunted gremlin man

Ok so first of all, he has no gender preference

He does not care what’s between your legs, he wants someone strong

Or at least someone capable of protecting themselves in a fight and can spar with him

Imma let y’all know rn that this is not a set rule

If all you have is an unbreakable will and a heart of gold, you have a shot

He will swear up and down that he prefers demons

And to an extent it’s true cuz humans have short lifespans and he doesn’t wanna deal with that

Show him genuine kindness and watch this mf fold like a lawn chair

Humans are usually the ones with the biggest hearts so I guarantee his partner is either gonna be a very kind human or a very kind demon

The bottom line is they just have to show genuine kindness and affection

It’s gonna freak him out but once he gets use to it, he ain’t ever letting go

He’ll cut his tongue out before he says it out loud but he kinda prefers dense, naive people

It’s pretty much the same reason as Kurama’s tbh

He likes blunt people and, in his experience…idiots don’t have filters and are very honest 🤣

He never has to read the mind of someone like that or even consider doubting them cuz they’ll just say what they mean and mean what they say

He kinda respects that

It’s also kinda hot to him

Hiei is moron-sexual confirmed 😂

He does like smart people but his best friend is Kurama…he’s kinda over Kurama’s bs and wouldn’t know how to handle 2 people like him in close proximity

Now if he manages to find a partner that’s a naive sweetheart but has an insane battle IQ

He might actually just pass away

That’s hot to him

They also shouldn’t be pushovers

If he’s being an asshat and barking up a storm, he wants them to bite him to make him tone down his attitude(sometimes literally)

Maybe it’s because he’s just so over how his old “family” treated him when he was a bandit

Maybe it’s the trauma of being rejected by his mother’s people and then getting thrown off a cliff

Maybe it’s the combination of the two

But the bottom line is he needs/wants someone who will love him unconditionally and be kind even when he’s being an asshole

[andthekitchensinkao3]

Bits and Bobs, or the whole g-dabnit list of assorted fanfics by Yours Truly

Okay. Here goes.

A masterlist of all my fics? Here ya go!

Sorted by fandom, in alphabetical order. Whether it’s finished or a WiP will be pretty self-evident in the list, which will be updated as I go.

Baldur’s Gate (1)

A Promise Kept (13/13) also known as the BG3 fairytale mashup with Loki the TV series no one asked for.

A Lokius Fantasy Romance set in the BG3 universe, with all the fairytale tropes you can shake a stick at.

When Loki, youngest son of Odin Fraxinus of the Elder Tree, happens upon a charming former Paladin in Baldur’s Gate’s central market, his life is irrevocably changed. He hopes he’s finally found someone who’ll see him for who he truly is, and love him, body, mind and heart.

Unbeknownst to him, former Paladin Mobius not only has a troubled past, but an agenda of his own. Sent to spy on the Elder Trees’ host, Dyllard Portyr, for the tenday, Mobius is tasked to find out if he knows anything about Duke Ravengard’s disappearance. Or, if Odin does.

For, it is said, Odin once made a pact with a devil. A pact no one can discern the extent of, nor its ramifications in the present day.

But one thing is for certain: a promise kept is a promise fulfilled.

I’m posting this in a Series format on AO3, don’t ask me why.

Prologue (1/1)

Act 1: Love's Beginning (2/2)

Act 2: For Love or Duty (1/?)

Act 3: Love’s End (?/?)

Act 4: A Promise Fulfilled (?/?)

No, but literally. For every chapter I posted, it got fewer hits, likes and comments. It's now back as a multi-chaptered fic. Sigh.

Detroit: Become Human (26) (predominantly Hank/Connor RK800, but some Simon/Markus too)

Note: there’s 26 flippin’ fanfics in this category. I’m gonna add them over the weekend. In the meantime, click the fandom link to go to all of them. Below are a few of my own, personal favourites. If I can toot my own horn for a bit.

Metamorph (18/18) - my first ever DBH fic! HankCon, obviously. 137k, I kid you not. After a peaceful Android Revolution, Hank and Connor both try to navigate this new world they’re living in.

Silent Treatment (17/17) - in which the entire game plot is turned into a near-future sci-fi thriller. Go me!

The Knight and the Fool - fairytale mashup time! In which Hank is an old knight who goes to prove himself in a tourney, hoping to keep his farm running.

How to Create a Monster (10/10) - undercover high stakes, badass Connor, separate timelines and POVs.

Being Alive (19/19 ) - so I basically rewrote the whole HankCon third of the game, in a Reverse AU where Human!Cop Connor doesn’t smoke, is not a Gavin Reed knockoff, or “Hank” as played by Bryan Dechart instead of Clancy Brown.

Only You - A what-if spin and continuation on Being Alive, if that fic hadn’t had a happy ending.

Great Pretenders (1/1) - undercover shenanigans meet fake dating/fake relationship! Two of my fave tropes combined!

The Witch and the Werewolf - my prompt fill for a Halloween event. What it says on the tin, really. HankCon reimagined as a historical thriller with Sleepy Hollow vibes. And magic.

Spa Day (5/5) - Porn with Feels, in which Connor lovingly doms the heck outta Hank.

Loki (TV) (7-ish) (Loki/Mobius M. Mobius)

50 Years (1/1)

Between an ancient deity and an analyst with a heart of gold, 50 years isn’t nearly enough. It’s nothing. But it’s also more than long enough. And Loki has an idea for their fiftieth anniversary as lovers.

A Promise Kept - (a fairytale in four acts)  A Lokius Fantasy Romance set in the BG3 universe, with all the fairytale tropes you can shake a stick at.

When Loki, youngest son of Odin Fraxinus of the Elder Tree, happens upon a charming former Paladin in Baldur’s Gate’s central market, his life is irrevocably changed. He hopes he’s finally found someone who’ll see him for who he truly is, and love him, body, mind and heart.

Unbeknownst to him, former Paladin Mobius not only has a troubled past, but an agenda of his own. Sent to spy on the Elder Trees’ host, Dyllard Portyr, for the tenday, Mobius is tasked to find out if he knows anything about Duke Ravengard’s disappearance. Or, if Odin does.

For, it is said, Odin once made a pact with a devil. A pact no one can discern the extent of, nor its ramifications in the present day.

But one thing is for certain: a promise kept is a promise fulfilled.

Loose Ends (6/?)

After the events of Tapestry of Time, Loki has his mind set on going back to Asgard. On his timeline, his branch, to either face the consequences of his actions, or discern Odin's role in everything that led up to his encounter with the Chitauri, and the assault on Manhattan.

Sledgehammer (2/2)

When an anonymous user sends an amateur porn clip to Loki’s TemPad, he doesn’t know what to think. Who sent it to him? Why? But he’s charmed by the easy swagger of a young Don leading the way into his bedroom, drawn in by his confident, laidback sex appeal.

But the longer he watches, the more difficult it is to stop. And once he’s watched the contents of the sex tape, there’s no turning back.

Question is how to keep going forward without inadvertently ruining his friendship with Mobius.

Tapestry of Time (10/10)

After the season finale, the TVA gang is left in a state of shock. None moreso than Mobius, who finds a note tucked into his breast pocket.

It says "I love you. Forgive me."

It changes everything, and sends Mobius on a quest to get Loki back, without dishonoring his sacrifice.

Turns out that's easier said than done.

Variations on the Theme of Us (2/?) - set in the same ‘universe’ as Sledgehammer, but after the events of that fic.

When Loki wants to do something nice for Mobius whether or not they have an actual anniversary coming up, he sneaks off to the Sacred Timeline on a whim.

Unbeknownst to him, the adult toy store he walks into is manned by none other than the Don of his combined wet dreams and nightmares. And Don? Spells all kinds of trouble.

Void (1/1)

Post-S2 finale, Mobius hacks his TemPad to recreate one of his own memories, and uses the time loop chamber thingie to relive it. Over. And over. And over again.

Person of Interest (1) (Reese/Finch)

How Not to Say I Love You (1/1)

When Reese and Finch go undercover to help a Number at a couples therapy weekend retreat, not everything is as it seems, and John has to navigate his own emotions while posing as someone whose situation hits too close to home.