#and then i came in and was like “no. fuck you. unhealthy coping mechanism beam”

[akuma-tenshi]

i love how my favourite dislyte characters are falken and chu yao bc they both make me absolutely descend into madness at every thought. if i'm thinking about dislyte i am either losing my mind over falken's hypervigilance being a shitty and unhealthy coping mechanism, OR i am thinking of every single unfriendly reminder i can give chu yao that he is mortal and can in fact die. pick your poison

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 22 | Chapter 24

Holy shit it's been a minute! Hi y'all! I'm back! Life's been absolutely insane lately and finding the time or the inspiration to write has just been really hard the past month or so. So, sorry this has taken so long to get out, but to make it up to y'all here's a 40 PAGE chapter! 😅😂 TW: THIS TW CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS! The usual, language, smoking, drinking, mentions of drugs and alcohol, some very painful memories, mentions of abuse/neglect, mentions/descriptions of nudity and inappropriate photos of a minor, violence, blood, character death, panic attacks, general not so good stuff is gonna go down, unhealthy coping mechanisms (aka ignoring all the shit going wrong until we can't anymore), make out scenes, dirty talk, some minor roleplay if you squint, and finally some fuckin SMUT! Yeah, the will they won't they train has FINALLY left the station! We've got some teasing, foreplay, oral female & male receiving (kind of a little), penetration, nipple play, idk what else to tell ya xD And a little bit of unhealty family drama at the end of it :) Also it's super late where I live so this chapter was very VERY roughly edited, so if ya see any mistakes, no you don't xD

Chapter 23: Oysters & Champagne

The greatest changes happen with time. It is the slow, steady progression that paves the way forward for bigger, brighter things. The shift between day and night, the methodical building of new cities and roads, and the lowering of one's guard to allow connection and emotion to take hold. The greatest things often happen slowly, then all at once.

As I watched Jake sign to Prue from across the diner table, taking her feedback with a determination I wouldn't have expected from him when we'd first met, it was hard not to think of Rada's old saying. “Slowly, then all at once,” Rada explained as she helped guide my brush into lighter, slower strokes. “See? Rome was not built in a day my Lena, your painting will not be perfected in that time either.”

So much had changed in the past months that it was hard to even remember how it all began. In the beginning, Jake had been just another annoying bad-boy bartender that wanted a quick easy fuck and I'd been just another closed-off, flighty back waiter. Yet, here we were, sitting side by side in a diner booth. It was strange to think that when we'd first met I wanted nothing to do with him or his flirtatious advances and now… Now I couldn't imagine a moment without him.

“Okay, okay, let me try this,” he said with a sly grin. “Your boyfriend is a pussy.”

Prue rolled her eyes, but admitted, “You're improving.”

“Thank you,” he beamed, clearly pleased with himself and his joke.

She reached over the table and flicked his head. “You're an ass.”

Jake rubbed his forehead as I laughed. “You deserved that.”

“Worth it.”

As we happily resumed eating our breakfasts the diner door opened and slammed shut. Quinn tore her jacket off and threw it into the booth as she slid in and picked up her menu. It'd been like this for a few days. Quinn would show up pissed off about something, we'd ask, she'd tell us it was nothing and then she'd get drunk every night. It was an obvious cycle of coping, the question was what she was coping with.

Prue and I shared a glance, trying to work out the best way to approach the subject. Jake, however, just went straight into speaking, “What's crawled up your ass?”

“Nothing,” she ground out glaring at him from behind her menu.

He laughed. “And you call me grumpy.”

Something in her finally broke. “Fuck you, at least I have a reason to be so grumpy!”

“Yeah?” He continued to press, the asshole in him just unable to contain his glee at getting a rise out of someone. “Like what?”

“Like my dumbass fucking dad showing up!”

The silence that followed was interrupted by the sound of our forks clacking against the plates. Quinn's dad was something serious, something that rarely came up anymore but serious all the same. He was a known addict who spent her entire childhood bouncing between neglect and full-fledged abuse. When Quinn lived across the street from us we could hear him yelling and throwing things at all hours of the day. At night he'd leave, sometimes for weeks at a time, and Quinn would essentially come and live with us until her dad came pounding on our door demanding his kid back.

My dad had beat the shit out of him more times than I could remember, but other than that there wasn't much we could do, not when Quinn refused to let us. For years she held out hope that her dad would one day get things figured out and they could be a real family. That hope died when she turned sixteen and he disappeared. After she'd grown up and gotten on her own two feet he started showing up at random asking for money or a place to stay while he “figured some things out”, but that always ended the same. With Quinn brokenhearted.

“Your dad's back in town?” I asked. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“It doesn't matter,” she responded.

“Yes, it does! We all know what he puts you through, Quinn. We could-”

“You could do nothing because unlike you I don't have two big brothers and a drug dealer on speed dial.” The harsh words settled over the table, sinking into both of us for a minute before Quinn shook her head and relented to the tired ache in her. “I… I'm sorry, Lee. I didn't mean that.”

“It's okay,” I reassured her, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I know.”

Tears built in her eyes but she wouldn't cry, not because of him, not ever again. “I told him to fuck off already so he's probably halfway back into whatever hole he crawled out of.”

Prue put her arm around Quinn's shoulder and hugged her. “Want us to stay with you? I can close up shop for the day.”

“I can call in,” I offered.

“I can say pussy,” Jake added, getting a laugh out of her. “Seriously though, I dunno what they're saying but… Fuck your dad.”

She sniffled and shook off the wave of sorrow. “Thanks, all of you, but I'm good.”

Holding out her pinky Prue gave her a look. “Pinky swear?”

Quinn shook it and nodded. “Pinky swear.”

“And, just for the record,” I said, “My brothers would always come to help you, Quinn. So would Dom. You're not alone.”

“I know,” she whispered, but I could see what was left unsaid in her eyes. It's not the same. We may have been Quinn's found family, but the hurt in her was the same as Patrick felt. She knew she wasn't blood… She knew if it came to a choice between me and her my brothers would choose me every time. And nothing I said or did would change her mind on it.

The ring of Jake's phone broke the uneasy silence. He checked the number with narrow eyes. “It's Dom.”

“Dom's calling you?” Quinn questioned, forcing herself to relax even just partially.

“Okay, what did you guys do that day I was gone?” I teased. “First he's actually using your government name, then he's calling you on the phone?”

Jake shushed me as he answered. “Hey, what's up? Uh… No, I don't. Sure, I guess. Yeah, see you in a bit.”

“What was that about?”

“Apparently I'm getting a couch and a TV.”

I shook my head and nudged him. “Seriously, what did you do?”

Jake shrugged, taking a final bite of his food before standing. “Don't worry bout it, Princess. See you at work.”

“See you at work,” I replied. “Don't break any legs trying to move that shit into your tiny apartment.”

He flipped me off as he made his way out the diner door and headed out. When I turned back to the table Quinn and Prue were both grinning at me. “You've seen his apartment now?”

“It's not a big deal,” I replied.

“Is this part of that juicy phone call I intercepted a while ago?” Her eyebrows rose. “A sexy debt if I remember correctly.”

“I have no clue what you're talking about.”

Prue slapped her hands on the table. “Spill it!”

“There's nothing to spill,” I insisted.

“Bullshit!” Quinn interjected. “You were gone all day.”

With a roll of my eyes and a giddy, girlish feeling making my stomach fill with butterflies I caved. “We just hung out and took a few pictures with his camera.”

Quinn's brows wiggled. “Sexy pictures?”

“Maybe…” 

Prue happily squeaked. “Oh my god did you two finally-”

“No.”

Quinn groaned, throwing her head back. “Oh my god! Just fuck already!”

I shook my head. “Classy, Quinn.”

“Seriously!” She continued. “I feel like I'm getting blue balled and I'm not even involved in your almost fucks!”

“Just think about how great it would feel to finally do it,” Prue added. “I know I was absolutely buzzing when Will and I finally did!”

“I…” With a sigh I looked down and quickly, quietly admitted. “I have thought about it.”

Quinn quickly translated for Prue and both of them became insatiable for the rest of breakfast.

*

Jake watched the bikers easily maneuver the decently sized couch and the modest TV around the stairs and up into his apartment. He'd attempted to help a few times but quickly got told to “bugger off” by what looked like an eighty-year-old man, so he just stood and watched. Dom stood next to him, silently observing before he finally asked, “Well, what do you think?”

“It looks good,” he answered. “Still a bit confused as to why you're giving me this shit but hey, frees free.”

Dom chuckled, a real chuckle. “I don't got the room for it, besides, you earned it.”

Shaking his head, Jake once again reiterated the facts. “I didn't do anything. I just-”

“You just protected her,” Dom finished for him. “That ain’t nothin’, Jake.”

“Yeah, but I don't need… Payment or anything for it.” He looked at Dom, meeting the hardened eyes. “I didn't do it for that.”

“I know.” The drug dealer clapped him on the shoulder. “Consider it a gift then.”

“Didn't take you for a guy that gave out gifts.”

“I'm not, so just say thank you and we'll never speak of it again.”

Jake chuckled. “Thank you, Dom.”

“Shut up,” he answered, nodding to the new space. “It's a bit crowded.”

With a shrug, Jake just examined the soft leather. “It's not too bad. I'm used to tight spaces.”

Hemingway leaped onto the sofa, purring as he rubbed the soft leather on his skin. “Well, at least the cat likes it.” Dom watched the others leave and moved to follow. “Call me if you can't get the TV workin'. I'll have John come out and fix it.”

“John's the one that calls me a twit, right?”

“Yep.”

“I'm sure the TV works fine.” He waved them off and closed the door, staring at the tiny living room he now had set up.

It wasn't perfect or fancy, most people would even argue that it was too much for the already cramped space, but Jake kind of liked it. His chair had gotten pushed into the back corner with his guitar on top of it. The edges of the couch left only a little room for people to slide past to the bathroom, but he rarely had company over so that didn't matter much. The TV fit on top of one of his shelves and left enough room for him to put DVDs or VHS tapes up too. He'd moved the thin coffee table he never used into the center of the space, pushing it up against the shelf a bit so there was enough legroom for the couch and then he sat down.

“Well,” he asked, turning towards the cat. “What do you think?”

Hemingway's only response was a loud purr as he curled up on the section of couch that was bathed in sunlight. 

Jake chuckled at the creature and settled into the leather, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Yeah, it's pretty nice.”

*

22West was relatively quiet when I got in. The kitchen was almost done with prep work and from what I could tell we weren't overbooked. The locker room was empty and stayed empty as I changed into my work attire. It felt kind of nice, to have a moment of quiet to myself at the start of a hopeful easy shift.

Jake set his bike down by the door and quickly entered, hair still disheveled. I closed my locker and smirked at him. “You're running later than normal.”

“I fell asleep,” he answered, practically tearing the locker open and throwing his newly returned jacket to me. I opened my mouth to protest, but he just gave me a look over his shoulder, “Just let this one be easy for me tonight?”

“Fine,” I agreed, reopening my locker and shoving the jacket inside. “Just this once.”

“Thanks, princess.”

“How was moving your couch in?”

Jake just chuckled. “I barely touched the damn thing. The bikers took care of everything.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they're pretty efficient when they wanna be. So, are you ever gonna spill the beans on why you're all so buddy-buddy all of a sudden?”

He glanced at me, a fleeting thing shining in his eyes before he looked down at his tie and shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell, really. I just came looking for you and they… Respected that.”

Glaring at him through narrow eyes I reached up and helped him with his tie. “Likely story.”

“You worried they'll start to like me better than you?” He teased.

“As if!” I laughed. “You're not nearly that charming.”

With a smirk, Jake leaned forward, “So how charming do you think I am?”

Humming in thought I knew the real answer. The instant, resounding too charming filled my brain for a minute before I answered. “I'd say you're a solid four.”

“Four?!” He scoffed. “I'm higher than four.”

“You certainly think so,” I replied with a wicked grin, my hands smoothing down his chest. His phone buzzed against the metal material of his locker. “I'll save you a plate, sweetie.”

Rolling his eyes he answered with a simple, “Thanks.”

Once I'd emerged from the kitchen the noise that the restaurant had been absent of, filled the space. Everyone was gathered around the wall instead of at the table eating. They whispered to one another, giggling and making suggestive faces. “What are we giggling about?”

Sasha smirked, giddily grabbing my wrist to pull me towards the wall. “We are just admiring the new painting that has graced our humble restaurant!”

The crowd parted and my heart stopped dead in my chest. There, hanging on the wall in front of me was, well, me. My portrait. My nude portrait. I felt lightheaded, my vision blurring, and the voices of everyone joking and teasing were suddenly drowned out by a loud, shrill ringing. 

It wasn't the sight of my nude body that filled me with a sense of dread. Though I still hated the sight of it - of what it had originally represented - it was the large splatter of crimson that stained the canvas that truly made my heart sink. It was the vivid and violent contrast between the soft hues of acrylic and the hard flakes of dried blood.

My brush slid along the canvas, the bright hues of blue and yellow, and lavender contrasting against the neutral skin tones of my self-portrait. I'd struggled to look at it, the fleshy rendering of my mostly nude figure. Its imperfections made me feel even more inadequate than I already did, the reference photo being one of the first that Tony had taken of me. That was his art, dressing and posing me to look perfect - to look like the beautiful and obedient woman he always said I'd grow into.

Truthfully I hadn't even considered painting something for this upcoming gala, having known well in advance they only wanted nudes or mostly sos to display. That wasn't what I painted, nor was it something I was particularly interested in doing, but Tony had insisted. So, there it was in all its hideous, imperfect glory. The portrait of a self I didn't even feel was me, but rather the hollow husk everyone else wanted. Everyone but Rada.

She peered over her shoulder, watching me paint for a moment as she cleaned the penthouse living room. The look on her face told me that she hated it as much as I did. But, she said nothing about how cold and lifeless it felt or about how she thought it in poor taste to paint a fourteen-year-old nude. Rada just kept cleaning, offering me what reassurance she could, like she always did. And like always, just knowing she was here was enough.

The elevator dinged open and Jules held Tony up, guiding him to the nearest chair and helping him get settled. It was obvious that he'd just got back from one of his benders on the flight back from France so I tried to keep my eyes to myself. Tony was never predictable per se, but he was always constant. His violence was never random, nor was it ever out of the blue. But, that changed when he got high enough.

“I'll go get the doctor, just to be certain you haven't taken too much.”

He chuckled. “Ever loyal, my dear friend. Some in the house could learn from you.”

The jab was obviously meant for me, but I kept my eyes on my painting, hoping it would spare me his anger for at least tonight. Jules exited quickly and with him gone, everything fell apart. The first noise I heard was the sound of metal clinking against the marble countertop, and the next was the bone-chilling sound of the cylinder of his revolver spinning. 

My brush froze on the canvas, ears honing into the slow steps he took toward me before he hauled me up by the hair. “Let's play a game, baby girl.”

“I…” The words struggled to find their way from my throat as my eyes caught Rada's. “I have to finish my painting for the gala tomorrow.”

“It can wait,” he insisted, throwing me back into the counter and pinning me against it.

He spun the cylinder again, a crazed grin settling on his lips as he held it to his head and pulled the trigger twice. As always, he laughed when I flinched and then forced the gun into my hand. “I don't-” His finger forced my own down onto the trigger.

The game played out like it always did until Tony's smile faltered and a rage seemed to fill his eyes. “Do you love me?”

I'd spoken the words so many times before then, but for some reason, I froze. My brain screamed at me, begging me to say it - to tell him I loved him, but deep in my heart I knew the truth. I don't love you. This isn't love. The rage spilled from his eyes, overtaking his face as he struck me hard enough to make my head hit the counter. The blow was enough to force the words out, “I do! You know I love you!”

“Is that right?” He spat, carelessly tossing the gun onto the counter and holding my head down on it. I gripped at him, searching for skin to scratch or anything to get him off me. “You didn't seem so sure just a moment ago.”

“No! I'm sure! I… I was just confused!”

“Confused?” He laughed, a sound that sent chills up my spine and made my muscles all tense. “Stupid girl. Do you even understand?” He hauled me up, holding my face in one of his hands so hard I could feel my jaw crack. “You're alive because I want you. If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing!”

“I know!” My lips trembled as I blinked back tears. “I'm nothing without you, Tony. I know that. Please…”

I prepared myself for another bout of his laughter, or another blow maybe, but neither came. Instead, I heard the cock of Tony's gun and a surprised… Annoyed sound leave his throat. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Let go of her,” Rada demanded. From the corner of my blurred vision, I could just barely see her, standing at the end of the counter pointing Tony's gun at him with slightly trembling hands. “You let her go now, or I swear on all of God's holy saints I will kill you.”

He laughed then, that deep, boisterous one that sent terror through me. Turning his head Tony smiled at me. “Seems you're not the only one that's forgotten their place.”

Through the tight grip of his hands, I begged, pleaded with him, “Please…”

With one harsh shove, my head collided with the counter enough to make my ears ring and my vision spin. I could hear his footsteps and the quiet sound of the gun's trigger being pulled.

Click.

Fear, desperate and heavy, filled my lungs and stole my breath as I scrambled to find my bearings.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Bang.

My vision cleared just in time to watch Rada collapse half on top of my painting. Blood gushed from the side of her neck, spraying across the canvas and staining the carpet. A sharp breath finally filled my lungs, yet I still found them breathless. “NO!”

I scrambled forward, pressing my hands to her neck and desperately trying to apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. Her body shook beneath me, at least it felt that way… It could have been my own shaking. Through the sound of her gurgling breaths, I could hear Tony laughing. “L… Le…”

“Shh,” I urged. “Don't talk. Just hold on. Someone's gonna help.”

Rada smiled, tears filling her eyes as she struggled to lift a hand to lovingly brush my hair behind my ear. “My… Bea…utifil…” Blood splattered across my face as she coughed. “Da… Daugh…”

I could feel her skin grow cold as her chest stuttered and then stopped. “No! Mama please!” I sobbed, moving my hands to shake her shoulders. “Don't leave me here! Mama!”

“What's happened?” Jules’ voice cut through my screams as he burst into the room.

Tony, still laughing, waved him off. “One of the maids got a bit too bold. Don't worry, my friend, I took care of it.”

Rage filled me, rage and grief and a forever-festering desire to end it all. Chest heaving and lungs burning I stood and turned to the kitchen as Jules helped Tony back to his seat. I grabbed a knife from the counter and ran forward with a wail. Tony's eyes shined at the sight of me and the knife flying toward him as if this was what he wanted. Jules turned his head and with no hesitation, he threw himself between Tony and me.

Blood, hot and sticky, splashed my hands and face as my knife met flesh.

*

Jake glared at the message on his phone, a sense of regret and shame making him feel sick to his stomach. 

Won't be back for another day or two. - Simone

When Jake had finally worked up the courage to answer her calls on Thanksgiving morning she'd been livid. She screamed at him for being so selfish and childish and demanded he stop with his attitude and come with her. He'd held his ground, of course, but the sting of her anger always made him feel like a pathetic eight-year-old boy being scolded. Jake had said sorry. He'd texted her, checking in, he even tried to call, but she'd given him nothing in response until now.

He breathed out a frustrated breath and put his phone back in his pocket, shutting his locker and hurrying downstairs to distract himself from the weight of his feelings with food and his friends gossiping. That, however, was not what he walked into. The group gathered around one of the walls, laughing and asking questions when he approached. “The fucks everyone pissing themselves over?”

Ari shifted, revealing more of the large painting that now hung on the wall of the restaurant. Jake’s jaw dropped at the sight of a nude figure - a body he'd grown most familiar with in the past months. If he'd been unsure at all, the bold curves of her name labeling the corner of the piece erased it. Lena. 

The redhead in question stood, frozen staring up at it as Sasha talked and teased in her ear. A cold shiver crawled up his spine at the sight of her. This wasn't just some embarrassing nude portrait. This was something else. Something that made her spine stiffen and her skin lose its color. 

Jake shoved past everyone and moved between Lena and Sasha. The Russian cursed at him in the foreign language. “What the hell?”

“Fuck off Sasha!”

With a prideful scoff, he turned away, shooing the crowd. “Bossy bossy!”

“Lena,” Jake whispered, reaching out for her. His fingers barely grazed her arm before she recoiled, a quick reaction he would have missed if he'd not been paying attention. She turned and looked at him with glossy eyes and a dead expression that made his gut tighten and his heart drop. “Lena?”

With a sharp exhale and a staggering step, she was moving. She stepped around him, shoved through the crowd and across the lobby. Her body flung itself through the kitchen doors and Jake followed, not even sure if it was what she'd want. The second he entered behind her he found her hunched over the garbage, throwing up the breakfast they'd shared. The kitchen crew all made noises of disgust and Scott dropped his utensils to turn and look at the disruption. “What the hell, Red?”

Lena composed herself, wiping the spit from her mouth with a shaking hand. “S-sorry chef.”

“Are you good now?” Scott asked, his tone as harsh and uncaring as it always was, but his eyes narrowed in concern.

Isaac had dropped everything and rushed to the front of the line, held off only by her raising a hand to stop him as she shook her head. “I… Just…” She looked like she was about to puke again, but held it back. “I just need a minute.”

As she turned toward the stairs, not meeting his eyes, Jake felt his worry shift to anger. This had to be him. The Anthony that Dom had told him about. And in that moment, Jake understood Patrick's bitterness about how little he truly knew. He felt unprepared - unequipped to offer Lena any help, but even with that aching feeling, Jake followed her up the stairs. He'd be there, no matter what she needed from him, Jake would be there.

*

I knew I was moving, talking. I could feel each strained movement and hear each shaky reply. None of it registered. In my mind, I was still standing in front of that painting… Still in the penthouse living room watching my mom bleed out. I was stuck, or my mind was, reliving that moment over and over again while my body just kept moving on autopilot.

“What can we do when we feel stuck?” Dad asked.

“Keep moving.”

“Keep moving. Find something to ground you.”

“Keep moving,” I murmured to myself as I stumbled up the stairs. “Just keep moving.”

I could hear someone following me up, but I didn't stop or look back. I just had to keep going. One foot in front of the other. When I finally made it to the locker room bathroom I barely registered slamming the door shut and fumbling for the knobs of the faucet. It felt like my head was spinning with the noise and the heat and the nausea.

“Get out,” I told myself in the mirror trying to focus on my face and drown out the sound of Tony's laugh with the running water. “Get out.”

“Stupid girl. Do you even understand?”

I was going to throw up again. “Get out.”

“If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing.”

A pounding came from the door as it got harder and harder to breathe. “Get out.”

“I'm the only one that could ever love you.”

In the background, I heard the door open, but whoever was standing in it was distorted… Replaced by Tony's laughing face and his thin frame. It isn't real, I told myself, but my body was already gone. Desperate panic forced the shrill cry from my lips, “GET OUT!”

Whoever it was vanished, but the fear didn't go with them. Every inch of me shook as I scrambled to find a foothold in reality. I needed something, anything to keep me from passing out. “Find something to ground you.”

There was one thing that would keep me going. One thing I could use. I turned the cold water off and stuck my hands beneath the boiling water. The pain made everything else fade away, forcing my body to stay on its feet and pulling my mind to the present. My heart hammered in my chest and a pained cry echoed in my ears as I stared into my own reflection.

Tears stained my cheeks and my hair had tiny clumps of throw up in it. It wasn't pretty, but it was real. I was here. The door opened again and Isaac opened his mouth, obviously having prepared something to say. That something vanished as he watched the steam rise up from the sink and he realized what I was doing. He ran forward and turned the water off, switching it to cold as he looked at my red hands. “Shit!”

“I couldn't get out,” I whispered in a broken… Pathetic voice.

Isaac held me from behind, keeping my hands beneath the now-cold water as I began to shake again. The pain was gone and without it, everything else started to creep back in. “It's okay, Lena. It's okay.”

“I…” A breathless whine caught in my throat. “I can't get out.”

“You're out,” he answered. “You're here.”

“I… I…” My body lurched forward, bile spewing from my mouth as panic began to set back in.

Isaac squeezed my hands and stammered before he released me. “Okay… Fuck… Okay, I… I'm gonna call Peter.”

I shut my eyes, setting my head against the chilled sink. “Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout.”

Without even really thinking I shut the cold water off and reached for the hot water knob. Find something to ground yourself. A hand settled on top of mine as a new body settled in Isaac's place behind me, one I recognized instantly. “Stop.” 

Jake.

Standing upright I opened my eyes, I stared into his eyes through the mirror. “Can you tell me what you need?”

Clenching my jaw I shook my head as my chest stuttered with repressed sobs. “That's okay.” Jake gently pulled my arms back, crossing them over my chest and holding me tightly to his. “Can you feel my heartbeat?”

I nodded.

“Can you feel my breaths?”

I nodded again. 

“Breathe with me,” he whispered, pressing his head to mine as he quietly counted. I watched us through the mirror for a minute before I let my eyes shut. Jake's steady breaths fanned across my neck, his heart beat against my back and his warm embrace sank into my bones. It was like his whole body was speaking to mine… Telling it that there was no danger. I was safe. “That's it, just breathe, Princess. You're here. You're safe with me.”

I'm safe. I'm with Jake. Slowly my breaths began to even out and my brain felt less muddled. I'm with Jake. My body stopped shaking and eventually, all that was left was us. I'm safe.

Isaac's panicked voice echoed as he walked back towards the bathroom door. “I don't know what to do! She's… I don't even know how to explain it.”

Swallowing, I quietly asked, “Is he talking to my brother?”

“Yeah,” Jake answered. “He got worried.”

“Can you tell him I'm okay now? I…” I opened my eyes and met Jake's gaze. “I don't want Peter to come all the way down here. Please.”

“Okay.” He looked down at the sink.

“I'm good now,” I assured him. “I'm just gonna sit down for a minute.”

If it were anyone else they'd likely have fought me, but this was Jake. He knew I wasn't lying. His hold on me loosened and he carefully helped me sit on top of the toilet lid. “I'll be right back.”

While the muffled conversation carried on outside the door I just sat there, staring at my reddened hands with an empty sense of impending doom. He was here. In this restaurant. He'd hung that painting where every guest, everyone passing close enough by the windows, would be able to see it. Still, I knew it wasn't about publicly shaming me. If that were the case he would've chosen to frame one of the many photos he had of me. This was a personal message. A reminder.

“If you're going to play games, you'd best be prepared to do whatever it takes to win.” He reminded me often after that night, that Rada had played and lost. That Francois had played and lost. Everyone always lost. “They don't have the mind or the stomach to win this game of ours, baby girl. We're still the only ones even playing.”

Deep down I knew what this meant. I knew, yet I refused to think it - to breathe life into that horrifying and terrible thought. He didn't get to toy with me. He didn't get to scare me out of this life.

This life was mine. I had survived his horrors, I'd taken the blows and I'd made my choices. I had fought and bled and killed for this life. He didn't get to take that away, not now, not ever. He didn't get to win.

I wiped my eyes and forced everything back into that box deep inside me. Once my feet steadied I walked out into the locker room where Jake had taken the phone from Isaac and was trying to talk my brothers down. I held my hand out. “Let me talk to them.”

Jake watched me for a minute before he nodded, “She wants to talk to you. Here.”

“Thanks.” I held the phone to my ear, listening to Patrick in the background throwing things around in search of his shoes. “I'm fine. Just stay home and take care of the gym.”

“Fuck that!” Patrick yelled.

“Is he there?” Peter asked, his voice filled with the rage he rarely had.

Sparing a glance at Jake I answered, “No. He's not stupid enough to show up with Dom around.”

“Then what happened?”

Flashes filled my head again as I forced myself to answer. “It's just a painting, Pete.”

“Which painting?”

“One you don't have to worry about,” I bit in bitter frustration. “Just… Please don't come. Please.”

“Lena you-”

“I am fine.” I insisted coldly. “I… I just want to work, okay? Can you just let me do that?”

Peter was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Promise me you're safe?”

As if on their own, my eyes drifted to Jake again, meeting those sea-blue eyes. “I promise.”

He shouted at Patrick before speaking again. “Okay. Put Isaac back on.”

“Thank you.” I turned towards the door where Isaac stood biting his nails. “Here.”

I watched him move out of the locker room, talking to my brother for a second before I turned back to Jake. What do I say? I asked myself. He no doubt had a thousand questions, all of which would be tied up in the painting… Which was tied up in Rada and Tony and everything I didn't want him to know. So, when his mouth opened I stopped breathing. “What do you need?”

What? My brain went blank in seconds as I gaped at him. “W… Don't you have like a million questions?”

“Course I do,” he replied simply. “The most important of them being that one. So, what do you need?”

“Honestly? I… Kinda wanna just forget this ever happened.” I admitted looking down at my feet. “

“That's gonna be kinda hard with that thing hanging up out there.”

“Yeah, it is.”

He shrugged a shoulder and moved to pass me. “Gimme one minute.”

I followed him to the door. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sasha!” He hollered, heading across the hall toward the front room. “Give me a hand real quick?”

Service started before Jake came back and so I jumped into work. I used it to distract myself from obsessing over the fact that hundreds of rich assholes were out there, no doubt looking at my painting - my body. That got harder to do when Will moved me to back waiting. The first follow of my night felt like I was walking right into a lion's den. And then it suddenly wasn't. 

I didn't know what they did, all I knew was when I walked out of the kitchen and into the sea of customers, the painting was nowhere in sight. I looked at Jake as he worked behind the bar, and all the answer he offered me was a smile.

After that, the night felt a little less heavy and before I knew it we were all gathering around the bar for after shift drinks. I gave Nicky a pat on the back and smiled. “Head home Nick, I'll get it all closed up.”

“You sure?” He asked, handing me his bar rag.

“Go on,” I urged.

Jake and I worked side by side, serving drinks to each of our friends as they all mingled and began to filter out the door. It felt good to be behind the bar with him again, but whenever I looked up all I could see was that painting on the wall. Fighting that foreboding feeling was tiring and not something I wanted to spend all night doing.

“So,” Jake started cautiously as he stacked a few glasses. “Today was a lot.”

I sighed and looked down at the bartop. “Yeah… Sorry about earlier. I wasn't trying to be… I dunno, pathetic.”

“You were hardly pathetic,” he assured me.

“Thanks,” I whispered, finally looking up at him.

“For what?”

“Grounding me.” Suddenly shy beneath his gaze I looked away. “I have a hard time coming out of episodes like that and you… You made it less shitty. A lot less shitty. So, thank you.”

His fingers combed through my hair as he brushed it behind my ear. “No problem, Princess.”

“Let's get drunk tonight.”

With a smirk, he asked, “You think that'll help?”

“Can't hurt to try.” I shrugged, repeating the words he'd told me. “Besides, I kinda want you to be all over me again.”

Jake's smirk grew wider, turning to pull my body into his. “Like this?”

I nodded, happily drinking in the warmth and the smell of him. “Yeah. Like that.”

“Come on then,” he answered, tugging me out from behind the bar and throwing his jacket around my shoulders. “Let's go.”

*

Jake watched Lena dance from the bar as he nursed his first and likely only drink for the night. She'd been drinking steadily since they arrived, though no one seemed to want to discourage her from it. Peter and Patrick had told Dom shortly after Lena had talked them out of coming and so he and the bikers were nowhere in sight. Whether that was something to worry about or not, he didn't know.

At first, he'd considered talking to the brothers about the whole situation, but Patrick had just given him a shake of his head and nodded to Lena. A reminder that everything - or almost everything - they did was on her terms. They'd discuss it when she was ready to. She'll never be ready to, he told himself.

Lena was strong and stubborn. In those first months, he'd thought she was fearless. The longer he spent with her - with everyone - the more he realized that no one was truly unafraid. Everyone feared something and that was okay… It was normal to be afraid. Fear often meant that you cared about something outside of yourself. But, Lena's fear was something entirely different. Her fear was intertwined with her anger and her sorrow. So much of her was packed into the threads she refused to acknowledge let alone pull on. 

So, she'd keep drinking and dancing and moving forward. She'd leave seeing that painting in the restaurant as buried as whatever memory it was tied to. And, though his stomach twisted into knots at the thought of leaving her panic attack in the bathroom unresolved, Jake would let her have this. He had to.

After an hour he excused himself outside, not bothering to take the alley to the couch while the bikers had vacated their spot out front of the bar. He grabbed his jacket from Lena's seat and fished out his cigarettes and his lighter, moving to pull one out when he looked up and saw Quinn. She was boxed up against the wall outside by an older, angry-looking man - her father if he had to guess. From the door, Jake could see the tears building in her eyes as he screamed at her and grabbed her arms to shake her. His jaw clenched and his feet carried him toward her. “Hey!”

“Jake-” she tried to interrupt.

He ignored her, shoving the man's filthy hands off Quinn and occupying the spot in front of her. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Her dad laughed. “You’re a real tough guy, huh? Do you know who the fuck I am?”

“Don't care.” Jake shoved him again when he tried to get up in his face. 

“You're gonna regret this,” he said, spitting at Jake's feet as he glared at Quinn and slunk back into the night mumbling and grumbling curses and threats under his breath.

He waited until the man had vanished around the corner to turn to Quinn. She was closed off, almost angry as she huffed, “You didn't have to do that.”

“I know,” Jake answered, lighting his cigarette. He took a drag before wordlessly offering it to her. Quinn accepted and smoked in silence alongside him. “So, that's your dad?”

“Yep.”

“Seems like a real charmer.”

She sighed. “Yeah.”

Jake recognized the look in her eyes, that painful anger. “I never knew my dad, but he probably wasn't too different from your old man.”

“It sucks, right?” she asked, looking up at him. “Being so… Unimportant to someone that's supposed to love you.”

“Yeah, it does,” he earnestly replied. “But, we've got other people, you know… Better people.”

“I know,” she whispered. “That's different though.”

With a solemn nod, he agreed, “I know it is.”

“Thanks,” she said, clearing her throat. “For the smoke.”

“No problem. And, if he shows up again or bothers you or whatever, just call me and I'll come take care of it.”

“You don't have to worry about me,” Quinn insisted with a sad look.

It was a simple, sad sentence, one Jake had used countless times before. He knew the ugly truth that hid behind the words. I don't want to be weak. Weak. It was laughable to think anyone found Quinn weak. In all the time he'd known her, she was nothing short of sassy, strong, and confident. Yet, here, on the side of the street, Quinn looked small.

She must've felt small too, the way she kept glancing at him with that fearful hint of shame. Jake felt a few things swirl around in his chest. Anger that her shitty dad made her feel like this small and unimportant. Sad that her shitty dad made her feel unloved. But the strongest among them was a new, blinding need to protect her. Jake wanted to make sure Quinn never felt that way ever again and it was frightening for a moment. However scared he was of this new responsible feeling, he quickly decided that he didn't care.

He didn't care how scared he was, he knew Quinn and he knew that she deserved the same kind of family that she'd given him with her persistence and her meddling. “Yeah, but what kinda big brother would I be if I didn't.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him and breathed out a soft laugh. “I…I've never had a big brother before.”

“I've never been one before,” he replied, looking anywhere but her face. “Guess it'll be something new for both of us.”

Quinn nodded, and without another word, she stepped forward and hugged him. “Well, just for the record, I can't think of a better idiot to be my big brother.”

He held her close, letting the words fill him with pride. “I have my smart moments.”

They held each other for a moment longer, both holding onto that feeling of family that neither of them had known - at least not like this. Then Quinn pulled away, wiping her eyes. “We should get back inside.”

“Yeah, we should.” He replied, following her with a steady arm around her shoulder.

*

I downed the shot in one quick motion, shaking off the burning tingling feeling that engulfed my face after. It felt nice to forget. The tingling was all I could really focus on… Well, the only other thing I could focus on.

Jake had been cool and collected all day. He'd handled the painting, the panic attack, and everything else seemingly with ease. While I made quick work of every drink Ian made, he slowly drank his beer and watched me with amusement. It reminded me of the last time I'd gotten wasted, what little of it I could remember.

Want. No matter how much I drank or how much I kept putting the big shit off, the want never lessened. As I watched Jake with that stoic face of his, all I could think about were those heated moments between us. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to do all of them again. So, with a wide, drunken grin I took hold of his hand and started pulling him through the crowd. “Come on!”

He chuckled but let me drag him to the back hall next to the bathrooms. “You gonna hurl?”

“No,” I giggled, stumbling into his chest. “I wanna kiss you!”

“Yeah? And we had to come over here to do that?”

“I'm not gonna make out with you in front of my dad!” I replied in a giddy, hushed whisper. “Do you wanna kiss or not?”

Jake stepped forward, backing me into the wall, his hands landing on my hips as I stared up at him in awe. “I always wanna kiss you, princess.”

With a satisfied hum, I gripped his shirt and pulled him towards me. “Good.”

In the dimly lit hallway surrounded by noise and bodies somehow in my mind, it was just the two of us. Jake's lips moved in time with my own, our hands grabbing at one another with a furious need to somehow be closer. The slight buzz of the alcohol made my head feel light and erased all of the lingering unknowns from my mind entirely. It was that mix that made me feel bold enough to touch Jake exactly how I wanted to.

I palmed him through his jeans, swallowing every moan until he pulled away from my lips with a groan. He squeezed my hips, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “Fuck.”

Smiling, I leaned forward and kissed his neck. “You're so pretty.”

“If you were sober I…” He groaned again as my teeth scraped his Adam's apple.

“You'd what?”

Jake looked down at me and shook his head, hands leaving my hips to take hold of my face. “I'd do a lot of things.”

“Sounds fun. Would I like it?”

“Definitely,” he whispered.

I smirked. “How do you know?”

Bumping our noses together Jake shrugged, “I have it on good authority I excel at the art of pleasure.”

“Hmm,” I hummed playfully, “I think you're just overconfident.”

“I'll just have to give you a private demonstration.” He sighed against my lips, amused and frustrated all at once. “When you're sober.”

“When I’m sober,” I repeated, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Raincheck?”

He chuckled. “Raincheck.”

“We can still make out though, right?”

“Absolutely,” he answered, pressing me back into the wall and wasting no time reconnecting our lips.

It wasn't until Patrick rounded the corner and quickly covered his eyes with a disgruntled groan. “God, can a man use the toilet without havin' to see his sister doing… that?”

With haste, Jake and I fixed our clothes and bashfully leaned against the wall. “Sorry, Pat.”

He walked past us, shaking his head. “I don't wanna see none of that when I walk back out. Get a room or something.”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and too many shots, but it was good. As we played our shitty drinking games and teased one another I was blissfully content. All thoughts of the restaurant, the painting, Rada, Tony… It was pushed so far into the back of my mind that it was nothing more than a blurry memory.

As Jake walked Quinn and me to my apartment I noticed how relaxed she seemed. Even in my slightly drunk state, I recognized how the tension seemed to have lifted from her shoulders as she walked beside Jake with a smile. She felt safe with him and it made my chest feel warm and fuzzy. When we reached my door, she turned and hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he replied, awkwardly patting her head. “I mean it.”

“I know.”

Giving them both a fond look I pressed one last kiss to Jake's lips. “Goodnight, tough guy. Try not to get beat up on your way home.”

He chuckled. “I'll do my best.”

“Tell our cat goodnight from me!”

“Goodnight, Lena,” he hollered as he walked down the sidewalk.

Inside Quinn and I flopped onto my bed, both tossing and turning, fighting over the blanket to try and get comfortable. “Hey,” I whispered as we both finally settled. “What happened tonight?”

She snuggled into the pillow and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Lee.”

“Quinn-”

“Seriously,” she replied quickly, a smile tugging at her lips. “My big brother took care of it.”

Even in my inebriated state, I didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. The answer was clear. I smiled and closed my eyes. “Jake’s good at that.”

“Yeah, he is.”

*

Jake stood in front of the bar, watching the workers closely as they situated the lights. Mr. Hiragana and I walked through the space of the new restaurant, now finally cleared of garbage and wreckage. It looked bigger than it had, but that might've just been how the fixed walls and proper lighting made it feel. “So,” the man beside me began, “I assume you and your colleagues have discussed the design of the space?”

“We have,” I answered, again glancing at Jake. “Scott doesn't care either way, so long as the kitchen is big enough with new appliances. Jake wanted full control of the bar.” With a smile, I handed him the simple sketches I’d done. “And you know me, I'm the one with the vision.”

“Of course,” he agreed, eyes carefully looking over the pages with a smile. “Your visions never cease to amaze me, little fish.”

Nudging him with my elbow I smiled. “So, you think it's doable?”

“It is fairly simple.” Handing the papers to the lead on the project they exchanged a few words before he patted my hand and looked around the room. “This will be the pride of the city when all is said and done.”

“That's ambitious,” I said with a laugh. “The big apples got a lot of gems.”

Nodding Mr. Hiragana said again, “And this will be one of them.”

With a tilt of my head and a soft smile, I squeezed his hand. “Were you always this optimistic?”

“Only after I met you,” he replied, squeezing my hand back. 

“Was I ever this optimistic?” A sad feeling took root in my chest as I looked around at the clean slate. “It feels like so long ago that I had something like this… A dream.”

Mr. Hiragana nodded, his thoughtful eyes never leaving my face as he answered, “You have been through much these years we have been apart. You have changed… Grown not only in body but in mind. The little fish I met at that hotel so many years ago is not the same one that stands before me now. You have known sorrow, fear, loss.” With a proud gleam in his eyes, he nodded more assuredly. “And in spite of it all, you have survived. It is normal to lose one's optimism after such a trying journey. But, one day you will find it again.”

“You've grown wiser in our time apart,” I deduced.

With a deep laugh, he shook his head. “In some ways, I suppose. All that live to be my age have some wisdom to depart onto younger ears.” With a glance at Jake, he smirked. “Though, some of that wisdom is repeated words said by a much wiser voice than mine.”

“How do you mean?”

“Slowly, then all at once.” His words made everything still as Rada's bright smile and tender kiss on my head warmed me. Mr. Hiragana smiled again. “This is what she always said when encouraging you to follow your heart, yes?”

My eyes drifted towards the bar where Jake paced behind the wooden bartop. His eyes darted back and forth, memorizing the space he'd claimed as his and visualizing whatever it was his mind had thought up for it. For a split second, it was like I too could see that bright image he had in his head. A bar with soft lights and glittering bottles, pictures of everyone that mattered littering the wall behind it. A place that felt lavish and expensive without being so snooty and uptight. A place to feel at home. 

Then that all vanished as his head turned and those blue eyes pierced mine. The vision faded from his mind, replaced by another… Less focused one. That wicked gleam shined like the sun over water as his tongue darted out to wet his lips and his eyes lazily moved down the length of me. Sinful. That was the only word I knew that properly described him as I broke eye contact with him and cleared my throat.

“Thank you.” I looked back up at him, ignoring the knowing look he gave me in return, and bowed my head. “For helping me find my way.”

He bowed his head in return. “You have always known your way, Little Fish. I have simply reminded you of it.”

I glanced at the time and bowed again. “We should be going.”

“I look forward to our next meeting.” He squeezed my hand one last time. “They would be proud of you.”

After leaving the crew behind to work on the building Jake and I headed to work. We made small talk about the progress of the restaurant, a subject Jake was still clearly uncomfortable with. “Mr. Hiragana says we'll probably be able to open before next years up.”

Jake stiffly nodded, eyes still staring straight ahead. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” I answered, watching him carefully. “So, how are you feeling about the whole thing?”

“Fine.”

I reached out and stopped him mid-step, my hand carefully laying on his arm and encouraging him to look at me. “Jake.”

He shook his head and sighed, “I feel fine. Excited… But… It's… It's just a lot and it's complicated.”

“Anything I can do to help?” I asked with a tender tilt of my head.

“No, I don't think so.”

I shrugged. “Well, I give you full permission to be an asshole about restaurant shit while you figure it out. That help?”

Jake chuckled, visibly pleased with the idea of an asshole pass. “Maybe a little.”

“Good,” I beamed back as the heavy cloud of tension dissipated and the rest of our walk felt normal again. It wasn't until we entered 22West that the weight of everything came crashing down over me all over again.

A new painting hung on the wall, not one nearly as painful to look at, but another all the same. The light blues of the waves gradually faded into black as the painting shifted focus from the boat - my mother's boat - to the nothingness that lurked beneath the water. My heart dropped into my stomach, twisting and tightening until it was nothing more than a ball of iron filling my stomach with dread.

*

The clinking of silverware felt louder that family meal than any other, at least it did to Jake. He sat next to Lena, whose eyes hadn't left the painting since they'd arrived. It was a simple image of a boat and the ocean depths, but he knew what it really meant to her… Some of it anyway. As his eyes passed between the painting and Lena's emotionless face, Jake wanted nothing more than to ask the question that hung on the tip of his tongue.

Why does this make you feel so afraid? 

His best and only guess was that it had something to do with Anthony… Something to do with the three years that Lena tried her damnedest to never focus on. But, in that curious, protective way of his, Jake wanted to know more. He wanted to understand the situation fully so he could at least make an attempt to lessen the impact of it.

They had been the only two that hadn't already gotten dressed in those hideous shirts, having been late to oversee things at the new restaurant space, and as they changed in the quiet of an empty locker room Jake felt relieved no one else was here. The apprehensive, almost avoidant air around Lena never once lifted as he turned to look at her. “You okay?”

She didn't even glance at him when she answered, “It's just… A lot…”

He found it ironic that her words – her feelings mirrored his so perfectly. Any other time it would have made him chuckle, but right now all he wanted was to make her feel better. The panic in her voice as she screamed at him to get out the other day had made him feel physically sick. Seeing her using pain to somehow try to ignore the memories made him feel even worse. Jake wanted - needed - to help her.

“So take it out on me,” Jake suggested, her words from their walk circling around in his head as he closed his locker.

“What?”

“All that shit you're holding onto, take some of it out on me.”

“I'm not gonna do that.”

“Why not?” He asked with a hopeful smirk. “Like me too much?”

“Less and less each minute,” she weakly joked.

“Let's play a game,” he offered. “We go back in time tonight to before we became friends. I'll be my charming self and you can be a bitch.”

“Jake…”

Pushing himself off his locker he chuckled. “Oh come on, princess. Have some fun. Play a game with me.”

Shaking her head Lena finally nodded. “Alright, fine, I'll play.”

Jake smirked down at her. “See ya downstairs, Lana.”

“See ya, jerk.”

Tonight was gonna be fun.

*

“Behind,” Jake deadpanned for the third time tonight, the mischievous glow in his eyes the only thing giving away his true emotions. “Watch where you're standing, Lana.”

He’d been purposefully waiting until I’d stepped up behind him to turn directly into me and pretend to be annoyed. Part of his “game”. I'd been skeptical of his plan and it’d taken me a minute to adjust to the amped-up brand of his usual asshole behaviors, but once I did I actually found the whole thing… Fun… “Watch where you're walking, jerk.”

Jake slid out of the kitchen with nothing more than a smile. Everyone around us looked confused, but shocking none of them said a word. Isaac and Scott gave me the occasional questioning look, likely expecting me to explain it later. I didn't care about any of that though. I didn't care about the new painting or the past it dug up. I didn't care about Tony's obvious involvement. All I cared about was thinking up a new snarky comment to hit Jake with the next time I saw him.

I continued to switch between line and dish before moving to help restock the bar. Jake saw me the second I left the kitchen with the two bottles in my hand and slid to stand in the middle of the bar space, shaking his cocktail. “Sorry, I need the room.”

“Idiot,” I mumbled under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear me as I pressed my chest up against his back to slide past him. “Good thing for you I don't mind getting up close and personal.”

“Lucky me,” he replied, pursing his lips as he watched me bend over to grab the now-empty rack for the glasses. 

He slid the drink to the guest who had ordered it and quickly turned, putting his body directly behind mine so I'd run into him when I stood up. I played into his hand and with an exaggerated eye roll I mimicked his words, “Behind.”

“Sorry,” he taunted. “I was just admiring the view.”

“I'm just surprised you have the time to admire anyone else's ass when you're so obviously in love with your own.”

Chuckling he let me pass. “I assure you, an ass like yours puts mine to shame, princess.”

“How flattering,” I deadpanned. “Save some of that charm for the people dumb enough to pay you, pretty boy.”

The night dragged on, but I hardly noticed how long it really was. Once the guests had vacated the dining room everyone drank themselves into a better mood. Nicky left early, leaving Jake and me to close the bar down. Next to me, Jake finished counting his tips with a click of his tongue, “Only four hundred tonight.”

“Well,” I sarcastically remarked, putting a bottle back in place. “Looks like tonight's gonna be a big fat bust. If only there was a way you could salvage your wounded ego.”

“Wanna know what I think?” He asked, ignoring my taunt as he side-eyed me. He poured Heather's drink into a to-go cup with a thoughtful grin.

“Desperately,” I answered in that slightly mocking tone he was known for.

Jake slid the cup to her and watched the group start to leave. “I think I should snag us some food from the kitchen while you grab a bottle from the wine cellar,” he turned and looked me up and down, reminiscent of how he had in the beginning. “Then we meet at my place in a half hour.”

The look in his eyes told me exactly what his words didn't, but I still wanted to hear him say it. With a coy smile and a tiny step too close, I asked in a light, teasing tone, “Like a date?”

“If that's what you wanna call it,” he replied just as teasing, but both of us could pick out the genuine nature in each other's words.

My heart did a flip inside. For the first time since the painting had arrived 22West felt like it should. It felt like just another space, one I didn't feel paranoid or anxious in. Jake was there, standing in front of me, inviting me to spend the night with him… Inviting me to forget about anything and everything else. Mr. Hiragana’s words - Rada’s words - echoed in my mind. “Slowly, then all at once.”

“It’s a date then,” I answered, a sudden hopefulness, or maybe blind courage, refusing to let old fears rob me of this - of anything else with Jake.

That cocky grin of his made me roll my eyes as he kept up the persona of that asshole-ish self we’d be toying around with all through service. “See you there, Princess.”

“Don’t get too cocky, pretty boy, or I’ll stand you up.”

Jake chuckled and shook his head. “No, you won’t.”

God this shouldn’t be so fun. “Won’t I?”

He bent his head down, crowding my space and letting his eyes shamelessly roam down to my cleavage. “You want this too bad to stand me up.”

I replied through the feeling of heat rising up my neck. “You seem confident about that.”

“I am confident,” he answered, tugging his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “That’s the point of this game, isn’t it? We pretend to be the assholes we were to each other when we first met so we can finally just say what we really mean?”

Though I hadn’t seen the game that way before, it clicked the second Jake had said it. Everything that had happened the past few days… Thanksgiving, the bar, tonight, one thing after another after another after another all getting in the way of what I, we, wanted and dreaded more than anything. The conversation. The admittance. The game had given me - given us both - the courage to just come out with it, to commit once and for all to an action. A date. “You’re right.”

Jake smirked even wider, cocky and dickish as he leaned in closer, tilting his head ever so slightly in that smart-ass kind of way. “Am I?”

“Don’t ruin it.” I carefully pushed against his chest and took a step back. “Now, excuse me. I have an expensive bottle to steal.”

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, just low enough that I couldn’t be totally sure he’d even said it. He watched me turn and walk away, the burning feeling of his eyes on me only making my heart beat faster in my chest.

Down in the chilled wine cellar, I stood, staring at the shelves, as my mind caught up with my body. A date. Holy shit. This is a date. I glanced down at my plain attire and shook my head. “Nope.” Digging my phone out of my pocket I moved forward, scanning the bottles on the shelves as the line rang.

“Hello?” Quinn sang into the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Wow, not even a hi, how’s it going?”

“Quinn, no time!” I replied, hurriedly. “I need an outfit.”

She made a curious noise over the phone. “What for?”

“I…” A stupid gin made my cheeks burn as I answered, “I have a date.”

“Are you two finally calling your one on one time, a date?” Quinn inquired with a light teasing tone. “How bold of you.”

“Shut up, do you have something I can wear or not?”

With a sigh, I could hear her as she started flipping through her rack of clothes. “If you want my professional opinion, showing up in nothing at all would be your best option.”

Rolling my eyes I finally found the bottle I'd been searching for. “Quinn…”

“Fiiinnee, I've got a few options. See you in ten?”

“Sounds good, thank you!”

“Det-”

“Details as payment, I know Q.”

Bottle in hand I hurried up the stairs, saying goodnight to the dish crew as they finished changing and headed out into the chilled air. My steps felt both lighter and heavier as I walked beneath the neon lights and moved around the slow crowds. I tried not to focus on what this meant… On the obvious expectation that both Jake and I had at this point, but that was practically impossible.

We'd already done everything else, a fact everyone was keen on reminding us. We'd kissed and touched and whispered heated words. Jake and I were far past any normal friendship. We had been for a while. Yet, there we were using games to commit to an actual date. There we were coming up with some kind of excuse to meet at his apartment where things were bound to go a very specific way.

Are we even going to get to open this bottle? I wondered, nails picking at the fancy label. Or is he going to just kiss me the second I walk in? The vivid and tantalizing image of him pulling me into his apartment and pressing me into his front door filled my brain. Am I going to be able to not kiss him first? Another valid question.

Quinn's apartment wasn't far from Ozzy's or the club. She lived a few blocks up the way in a modest one-bedroom place she'd busted her ass to afford back in the day. The old, sun-faded brick shifted to peeling wallpaper as I made my way inside and up the creaking staircase to the third floor. The second door down the hallway, the only door not decorated with scuff marks from people's shoes. 

Ari was waiting to open the door with a wide smirk. “TIGER!” She purred, pulling me inside the dimly lit warm space and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I heard you have a daaaaattteeee.”

Quinn's apartment was always in some state of chaos. Shoes were tossed around, blankets hung off of every soft surface and her makeup and hair supplies were scattered around her place like hidden gems. She liked it this way, liked the way it made things feel crowded and lived in. Having grown up with nothing Quinn collected things and held them close like a slutty magpie.

The warm lights from her lamps lit up the living space, where it appeared I'd interrupted a dinner date. Quinn emerged from her bedroom to the left and helped peel Ari off me with a loving look and teasing in her eyes. “It's not a big deal remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Ari giggled. “Just two friends hanging out late into the night.”

“You two are the worst,” I grumbled, setting the bottle down on Quinn's counter. “So, any good choices?”

With an offended look, Quinn waved me into her bedroom. “As if you need to ask.”

Ari looked at the bottle with wide eyes and a huge grin. “Thief!” She gasped. “I love you!”

“Don't open it,” I called out to her. “If there's any left tomorrow I'll bring it up to you guys.”

Quinn's eyes widened and she practically vibrated as she hopped onto her bed among the outfits she'd pulled from her closet. “Is this gonna be an overnight date?”

“Maybe,” I answered, trying not to let my excitement or my terror change my voice.

“Oh my god, are you gonna let him take your V card?”

I nudged her leg, almost sending her off the bed. “My V card's been gone for a while Q.”

She shook her head. “It's been over a year since that cards gotten punched in. It counts.”

“Outfits,” I sighed, changing the subject.

“Well now that I know it's a slumber party,” she rummaged through her pile of clothes and pulled out a little black dress. “This is what you're wearing.”

“I don't get to try anything else on?”

“Nope!”

With a groan, I grabbed the dress from out of her hands and stomped out of her room towards the bathroom. “Why did I even ask for your help?”

“Because I'm the best!” Was her loudly overjoyed reply.

Once I'd closed myself into the small bathroom with old checkered floor tiling and the tiny pink sink I looked at the dress she'd chosen. It wasn't ugly or too gaudy. It was simple, black silk with a modest hem of lace around the top and bottom. The spaghetti straps were thin, but I was just thankful there were straps at all… Or a dress at all for that matter.

I took my time sliding it on, stuffing my bra and other clothes under the sink until I could come back and get them. In Quinn's mirror, I fluffed my hair and fixed my makeup, trying to focus on the excited feeling in my chest instead of the anxious ball in my stomach. This isn't a big deal. It's just Jake. 

Just Jake… As if that had ever been true.

Unveiling the dress to Quinn and Ari resulted in the two catcalling me for five minutes. “God damn!”

“It's about time you let those girls out to play again!” Ari laughed, looking at my boobs. “No bra too? Jakey's a lucky boy tonight!”

“I'm leaving my clothes under your sink,” I told Quinn as I gathered my things and grabbed the bottle off the counter. “Thanks for the dress!”

“No problem! Have fun being a slut tonight!”

Flipping her off I left the apartment, trying to calm my nerves with each step forward. It wasn't a big deal. It was just Jake. This was just a date.

*

Jake had spent a solid ten minutes meticulously opening and cleaning each of the oysters he'd grabbed from the kitchen. He'd found a niceish plate to put them on and shooed his cat off the counter. Then he'd started truly freaking out.

Lena was on her way with whatever bottle she'd grabbed. They'd drink, eat, and then the inevitable would happen. They’d share a look. He'd touch her or she'd touch him and from there they'd be unable to stop themselves from checking off their list of rainchecks all in one go.

He turned on a movie, the first movie his hands could find, and he cleaned. It wasn't really an effective way to keep his mind off the possibilities that were at this point all but certainties, but he still did it. Maybe it was, to keep his hands busy or maybe he just felt self-conscious about Lena returning to his space.

By the time she knocked on his door, everything was clean and ready. Everything except for him. Do we continue our game? He asked himself, hand hovering over the doorknob. Would that make things easier or would that just make me seem like an asshole?

Opening the door he came face to face with her fluffy red hair and tempting lips and… Fucking hell. The little black dress she wore hugged her body in all the right places, showing off her lean shoulders and peaked nipples. He hadn't expected her to change. Lena smiled, that nervous smile that made the corners of her lips twitch and held up the bottle. “I hope you like champagne.”

Say something. Anything. And say something he did. “You're late.”

Asshole it is I guess.

Thankfully Lena just rolled her eyes and leaned against his doorframe. “Aw, did I keep you waiting?”

“A little,” he said, clearing his throat as he moved to let her in. “It’s been a damn chore keeping this cat off the oysters.”

As if Jake had bribed him to, Hemingway made a not-so-sneaky break for the plate on the counter. Jake jumped, intercepting him just in time. The cat hissed and angrily swatted Jake's arms as he carried him to the sofa. From his kitchen, Lena laughed. “I'm sorry. If I'd have known you were in a heated standoff with the cat I would have hurried.”

He shrugged his shoulders, casually making his way back to the kitchen. “So, champagne?”

“One of the more expensive bottles of it,” she promised, handing the bottle to him for inspection. 

Jake barely looked at it, focusing more on her. She looked nervous, but the good kind. The kind that told him she was comfortable being here on this date with him. That was all he could ask for - all he wanted. He'd only take the night as far as she was comfortable with, but judging by the look in her eyes Jake was confident she wanted things to go the same way he did.

So, he grabbed a pair of his shitty glasses from the cupboard and started to open the bottle. She arched her brow. “Not even gonna look at it?”

“I trust your taste in drinks.”

“Even after I gave you nothing but shitty ones that one night?”

Jake chuckled, popping the cork and nodding at her. “Even after that.” He poured her a glass and slid the plate of oysters between them. “So, how’s Quinn?”

Lena blushed, glancing down at her dress. “Was it that obvious?”

“Mhm,” he replied. “I've seen Quinn dress you up enough times to recognize her work.”

“Well, what do you think?” She asked, taking a step back and raising her arms to give him a full view of her.

What did he think? As if she didn't already know every single thought ran through his head. Jake could have voiced any of the lewd things - god knew he'd done that thousands of times before - but instead he found himself answering more sincerely, “I think you look perfect.”

*

My question had been simple, given how well I knew Jake and how his dirty mind worked. It was simple. Ask an obvious question about the very sultry dress Quinn had given me and received an equally obvious dirty response. Simple. Casual. And not at all what Jake said.

“I think you look perfect.”

Perfect. That wasn't a word I was used to hearing, especially when it came to me. Yet this would mark - at least - the second time Jake had used it. Butterflies filled my stomach, filling me with that fuzzy feeling of warm tingles. If it had been anyone else using that word I would have known exactly how to respond. Bullshit. But, I knew he meant it. The look in his eyes, the hint of a real smile, the way he looked just as surprised as I did.

Jake thought I looked perfect.

“So, how do you like your new TV?” I asked turning my now blushing face away from him to look at the bright screen where Egon and the rest of the Ghostbusters were quietly playing out their scenes. My face burned even hotter as I remembered Halloween… Remembered how good Jake had looked dressed as Egon. Maybe he still has that costume?  “Ghostbusters?”

“It's a good movie,” he defended, but the wicked gleam in his eye told me he was thinking the same as me.

Smirking, I shrugged. “Woulda thought you'd turn on Romeo and Juliet.”

With a smirk, Jake nodded, “Also a good movie.”

I used the heated tension humming between us as an opportunity to take the first oyster. The salty taste washed over my tongue as I examined the slightly shiny shell in my hand. “So, what's your plan, pretty boy?”

“Am I supposed to have a plan?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I mean I'd think so, after your very confident invitation at work.”

Jake shrugged, taking a moment to enjoy an oyster. “Honestly, I just wanted to be around you.”

“You couldn't be around me at Ozzy's?”

“Okay… I wanted to be around you alone. That better?”

I hummed, beaming at his admission. “Yep.”

He rolled his eyes, casually pushing the plate out of Hemingway's reach. “Don't sound so smug, princess. You were dying to come be alone with me.”

“Hardly!” I argued - lied.

Jake stepped around the counter, placing his body flush up against my own and giving me that look. “Hardly? So you don't want me to do this?”

His fingers skimmed up my exposed thigh, dragging the lace hem of the dress up. I gulped, my eyes shifting to his lips without a second thought. “I want you to do whatever you wanna do.”

“Oh, come on, princess. You can do better than that.”

Fuck it. “I… want you… To kiss me.”

He lifted his hand, fingers grazing the side of my neck as he carefully tilted my head up even more. Our lips brushed against each other, a sigh of anticipation hot on our mingled breaths, and then… Darkness.

The lights cut out, casting Jake and me in complete darkness. Outside horns honked and the chaos told us both that the block - hell maybe even the city, had just shared our experience. Jake’s hands drifted to my shoulders, holding onto me for a moment as he adjusted to the dark. “Of fucking course.”

I swallowed my disappointment and forced a chuckle out of my dry throat. “Don’t suppose you've got any candles on hand?”

“I think I have a few,” he answered. “Let me get a lighter or something.”

Jake stumbled around in the dark until he reached his jacket, pulling the cigarettes and lighter out. The flame did little to light the room, but after a minute of searching his bare cupboards, he found what little he had in candles. I could see the tension in his shoulders almost as clearly as the sour purse of his lips. “Hopefully it's not the whole city.”

“Yeah.” He answered through clenched teeth as handed me the lighter. “I'm gonna go see if anyone outside knows what's going on.”

“Okay,” I replied, watching him go. “I'll light these I guess.”

I stared into the flame as I held the lighter to the wick of the candle and let out a defeated sigh. It's always something. Betting lesbians, a money-hungry Russian, the past, the future… Maybe it was a sign. Maybe the universe in its infinite wisdom was trying to tell us we weren't good together.

The wax dripped over the edge of the candle as I held the light to it. “Bullshit.”

Fuck the universe, I decided. Fuck the past or the future. Fuck everything that tries to tell me what I want.

I wanted Jake. Physically, romantically, in any and every way that he would have me. I wanted him. And tonight was going to be the night whether the city or the universe liked it or not.

I carefully lit the remaining candles, illuminating his apartment just enough to see the outline of his furniture. As I set the last down on the counter I leaned over to give Hemingway a reassuring pat, all the while trying to hold onto the newfound courage making my stomach twist into knots. “It's alright.”

The cat seemed to release some of his tension, using my distracted state to snag an oyster and take shelter in the bathroom where he decided to hide in Jake's open laundry bin. As I quietly chuckled at the way the tips of his ears poked out of the top, and the ferocious noises he made dining on his stolen meal, the apartment door opened and slammed shut as Jake returned. With a silent curse, he threw his jacket and shoes off to the side. “Well, nobody knows shit, but everyone's expecting the power to be out for the rest of the night at least.”

“Damn,” I remarked, trying not to talk myself out of taking action. “Right when your plan was just starting to work.”

It was a flirtatious little taunt, wholeheartedly meant to shift Jake’s focus from the unexpected interruption and back to the fact that we'd been on the verge of a kiss when the lights went out. Sadly, that didn't happen. Instead, Jake continued to grumble, scouring his shelf for a pack of cigarettes and then his lighter, which I still held. “Damn, where the fuck did it go?”

I watched him search for a minute before holding up the object he sought with a smug smirk. “Looking for this?”

He turned to look at me, face set in a grumpy scowl as he lifted the candle off the coffee table and held the flame to the end of his cigarette, lighting it. “Nope.”

“Suit yourself,” I replied, bothered as I set the lighter down on the counter. “Now what?”

Flopping down on his couch Jake laughed humorlessly. “I don't have any board games we can play if that's what you're hoping for.”

“I’m sure we can think of something more interesting to do than play a board game.” Hint. Hint.

Jake rolled his eyes gesturing to the darkened apartment. “You're welcome to look around for something to do.”

DO ME! I wanted to shout at him. My eyes scanned the shelves, looking for something that could lighten Jake's pissy mood and somehow salvage the night. “Where's your camera?” I asked. “We could take some more pictures.”

“In case you didn't notice, we don't exactly have the best lighting for that,” he snarkily replied.

“So you wanna just sit in the dark and do nothing?”

“I'm doing something,” he answered, lifting up his cigarette.

“Well, maybe I wanna do more than sit and smoke.” Jake ignored my statement, staring at the wall in front of him with a bitter, disappointed look on his face. “Really? You gonna ignore me now?”

He glanced at me and shrugged. “You're more than welcome to find something to do.”

Idiot. After a moment of watching the angry puffs of smoke exhale from his lungs I pushed myself away from the counter and flopped down on the couch beside him with a frustrated sigh. Jake's eyes lowered to watch my boobs bounce with the movement. Of course, that'd be what cheers him up. “You know most people would be more concerned with entertaining their guests.”

It was like a light finally flicked on in his brain and with a suggestive raise of his brows and a not at all subtle smirk, Jake and I were back on the same page. Only now I felt like making him work for it.

"Oh, you want some attention?" He took another long drag of the cigarette, slowly sliding closer to me, closing the space between us. He was right there, just a head tilt away from my lips. He timed his head down, seeking me out, expecting me to make it easy.

“You're insufferable." I leaned back, crossing my arms - pressing my breasts up to really catch his attention. He breathed smoke out across my face with a light laugh and a smirk. 

"You like it," he whispered, our noses bumping one another.

"This isn't something friends usually do," I said quietly, smugly. Resuming the game we had earlier, the game meant to make this easier, and now the game that I'd use to torture him.

Jake was more smug as he grinned back at me, his eyes dark with lust and sin that would put even the devil to shame. "Yeah, well, I don't want to be your fucking friend." For a split second that something real flashed in his eyes, a fleeting feeling or thought he didn't dare let himself hold onto for too long.

I sighed, that same wave of reality washing over me, forcing my heart to beat quicker and my mind to race with doubt. Moving my head back a little more I whispered the thought, the fear that had kept us from committing to this all along, "This is a bad idea."

He nodded, not in agreement, but in acknowledgment that this was the very fear he shared. Adam's apple bobbing, Jake's eyes dropped to my lips as he sighed, "One of my worst."

I wasn't prepared for the kiss, or the way his hand wound into my hair to pull me closer. Though, I should have been. Jake tasted like oysters and champagne, smoke and, and want. He pulled me effortlessly into his lap, coaxing my mouth open and tangling his tongue with mine to effectively silence that pesky thought in both our minds. He was addictive and he knew it. Smug bastard, he was.

Of all the times we'd kissed, this one felt the most like our first. Maybe it was because of the way he'd been acting like he had in the beginning, asshole-ish and reserved. Or maybe it was because we both knew this was it. There was no forgotten thing, no drunk Russian or nosey lesbians. It was just us.

This was it.

I pulled back slightly, my hand smoothing over his jaw as we both dropped the act and slowly started to abandon our fear in favor of that intimate thing that hummed between us. Still, I couldn't resist the taunt that slid off my tongue, "So, you don't want to be my friend anymore?"

Jake scoffed, pressing another kiss to my lips. "Stop talking."

"I thought you liked being my friend," I continued to tease, threading my fingers into his hair as his mouth moved down the column of my neck. I had to hold in a moan as his teeth tugged at the skin there.

"I like this better," he breathed out, smirking against my skin. His hands gripped my thighs and pulled me down further, rubbing our hips together in a way that sent pleasure up my spine. This time I couldn't contain the wanton moan. Jake chuckled. "Much better."

With a breathless huff, I pulled his hair until his head tilted back up to me. "Shut up."

“Oh,” he whispered breathlessly, lips pulling up into that cocky smirk of his. “Now you wanna stop talking?”

Before I could answer Jake had shifted, rolling me onto the couch beneath him. The new cushions were slow to yield to the weight of us, stiff but not uncomfortable. Above me, Jake's chain necklace dangled, glinting in the low moonlight as it kissed my lips just like he'd done seconds ago. He smirked down at me for a second before all the attitude and the teasing faded, leaving him just smiling down at me as he lifted a hand to my face.

His fingers traced my lips, gliding along my jaw. The swell of warmth… Of want made my chest constrict almost to the point of pain. Out of all the nights we’d spent together - out of all the things we'd already done - this moment was unlike all of them. I wanted him more than I could even understand and in some way… Through some invisible bond between us, I knew he felt the same. 

I lifted my head off the cushion and chased his lips. “I wanna stop talking now.”

Jake's still smokey breath fanned across my face as he chuckled. “Okay, Princess. No more talking.”

Our mouths met again, eager and hungry. It was like the feeling of his velvety lips on me, of his hands stroking and squeezing, erasing every thought in my brain. Everything that wasn't him just suddenly didn't matter. Jake dragged his tongue down my neck, fingers tugging the straps of the dress off my shoulders so his lips and teeth could literally my collarbones with kisses and bite marks.

To my surprise he kept moving down lower and lower until his hands were tucked up my dress, pulling my panties off my legs. Jake bit into the meat of my thigh, dragging me down the couch until my ass was literally in his hands. I lifted my head just in time to catch a glimpse of his dark head of hair vanishing beneath my dress as he dove mouth-first into my pussy.

“Oh my god!” I squeezed in shock as his warm tongue lather over my clit. “Jake!”

His fingers squeezing my thighs and holding them open was the only answer I received as his tongue continued its skilled work. With my head pressed firmly to the cushions, I gripped onto his hair, lifting my hips in time with his tongue movements and chasing the pleasure he so shamelessly offered. “Yes! Oh, Jake, right there!”

His teeth grazed my clit, sending me spasming as I came. That didn't stop him though. Jake's tongue just kept licking and sucking, drinking up every ounce that I had to offer until I was practically vibrating beneath him. I pulled his hair harder, pushing him off me and quickly standing up. Before he could ask what I was doing I tugged at his shirt. “Take this off.”

The wicked grin he answered with glowed in the candlelight. “Not gonna say please?”

Reaching down I tugged on his chain, taunting him with an almost kiss. “Now.”

Humming Jake rose from his knees and lifted the shirt over his head, spreading his arms and lightly flexing. “Happy now?”

I raked my nails over his abdomen, instantly undoing his belt as Jake's hands started sliding my arms through the straps of my dress. “I'll be much happier when we're both naked.”

“That makes two of us,” he agreed with a groan as the dress slid off my body with no resistance. Jake's mouth fell open as he lifted his lands to tease my nipples. “God you're perfect.”

My fingers fumbled, head nearly falling back as the pleasure his touch brought spiked through me. “Jake.”

His body pressed closer to mine, forcing me to step back until the backs of my legs hit his bed. “Are you sur-”

I silenced him with a finger over the lips and a gentle reminder, “No more talking.”

Without any more chances to let my fear win out, I finished with his belt and zipper. Kissing down his chest I slowly sank to my knees, taking his pants and underwear with me until his hard, pulsing cock was dangling in front of me. Jake watched me press a few light kisses to the head of him as he carefully lifted his feet out of his jeans. His breaths stuttered as I licked him base to tip, swirling my tongue around him the way I knew he liked from the first time.

“Fuck,” he breathed, quickly taking hold of my face. “As much as I fucking love that mouth of yours princess… I wanna actually fuck you tonight.”

I grinned, kissing his cock again. “Later then?”

“Absolutely.”

Standing in front of him, I set my hands on his broad shoulders, leaning up to kiss him again. Jake's hands wound into my hair as he turned us, pulling me on top of him as he settled on his back. I shifted my hips and angled his cock perfectly allowing me to finally, slowly begin to sink down on top of him. Jake's eyes fluttered shut, his mouth falling open as a surprised, pleasured sound fell from between his lips. His hands scrambled over my waist, squeezing my flesh. “Fuck.”

The stretch wasn't painful, not after the care Jake had taken, but I found myself shaking. It felt so good. Finally having him inside me, the impressive dick his ego permitted me from ever complimenting, hit all the right spots. It'd been a year since I'd had sex, but already, I found myself questioning if anyone else had ever made me feel like this with nothing more than one tiny thrust.

Once I was fully seated on top of him I found my eyes closing, head tilting back as I enjoyed the simple feeling of him twitching inside me, breathing beneath me, holding me. “Holy shit.”

“You're not wasting any time,” he said, holding onto me like his life depended on it. “Got somewhere to be?”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” I replied, ignoring his teasing to lift my hips and bending over him. “So fuck me.”

Jake kissed me hard, setting one hand on the small of my back and using it to push me back down onto his dick. My sharp gasp broke our kiss and spurred my body into moving. Every thrust sent pure pleasure radiating through my body. Every noise Jake made was echoed by the ones I made. It was that word he'd kept saying. Perfect.

When my legs started to shake and my body felt heavier to lift in the fervorous up and down movements, Jake sat up. His tongue lathered over a nipple, earning another sharp sound from my throat, as his fingers traced up my spine and gently closed around the back of my neck. I could feel his lips curl up into a smirk as he pulled my nipple between his teeth. “Come on, princess. Don't stop.”

“Fuck,” I whispered, the desperate sound of his voice emptying my brain even more. “I… Oh god…”

“Don't tell me you're tired already,” he taunted, using his hands on my hip and neck to help lift and pull me. “We just got started.”

Grinding my teeth together to hold in the moan I bit back, “I should have guessed you'd be a pillow princess.”

Jake laughed, tilting his head up to kiss me again. “We can switch if you want.”

“Fuck you,” I answered breathlessly, my eyes punching together as the pleasure all began to build up inside me.

“That's what you're doing… Trying to at least.” He withdrew all attempts at helping me, returning his attention to my breasts.

“Jake,” I whined after what felt like hours. God, I'm out of Practice. Jake only hummed in reply to his name. “Please.”

More smug than ever he finally slid his hands to my waist and expertly flipped me onto my back. His sheets felt cold against my hot skin, but I hardly had a moment to focus on that when Jake wasted no time lifting one of my legs onto his shoulder and securing the other around his waist. “Try not to scream my name too loud, the neighbors tend to get mad about that.”

“You-” He thrust into me, the angle and the power behind it making sparks shoot up my stomach into my chest. “Oh fuck!”

“There you go,” he mumbled, fingers curling into the sheets by my head. “Let me hear those pretty noises.”

As he picked up the pace I realized I couldn't have denied his request even if I wanted to. Every noise I made echoed off the brick walls, every wet noise that his thrusts made only filled me with more fire. My fingers dug into his arms and clawed at his back as that coil in my gut wound tighter and tighter. “Jake,” I begged. “Don't stop!”

“Come on, princess,” he urged, pressing his lips to mine in a sloppy kiss. “I wanna feel you.”

“Ah!” I could feel myself tighten around him, drawing out another moan from Jake's lips.

“Fuck!” He cursed under his breath. “That's my girl. Come on… Come for me, Lena.”

That, the fucked out, desperate, adoring uttering of my name was what made the coil in my gut burst. Fingers digging into Jake's hair, pulling his lips down against mine I came around him, shaking as he thrust again and again and again, fucking me through the orgasm and into another as he came with me. His body tensed and shivered as he kissed me through his orgasm, pulling away to let out a shaky breath before he collapsed on top of me.

My chest heaved beneath him as I stretched my fingers and carefully pulled them from his hair. “Holy… Shit…”

Jake carefully rolled off me, throwing the condom away and collapsing next to me. “We should have been doing that this whole time.”

“Definitely,” I agreed, twisting my head to look at him… Afraid of what I'd find in his eyes when I did. Had this been a mistake?

Jake was smiling, genuinely smiling at me. His eyes were light and sparkling as he pulled me into his arms and threw his blanket over us both. His lips kissed my shoulders and my jaw and even though we’d just spent the last hour or more fucking I felt that swell of want again. “You know, we could be in the dark for a while.”

“All night even,” he agreed. “You should definitely stay the night.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, kissing his lips. “And are you gonna… Entertain me?”

Nodding Jake traced the snake on my spine. “Of course. What kinda man would I be if I left you unsatisfied?”

It was going to be a long night. Long and sweaty and perfect.

*

Dom looked at the now entirely empty shop with a dead stare. His life's work was fucking gone, and it was all his fault. Desperate anger and a bitter, frustrated sorrow filled his lungs with a scream. He threw empty tool carts across the shop floor and kicked the side of the nearest car. Dom exploded, lashing out until he had to stop. 

His back slammed into one of the cars, and he bowed low. Defeated. The sound of her light footsteps treading through his mess gave him some tiny hint of hope. He watched her carefully slide into place beside him, looking out at the empty space. "Sorry."

"Stop." He shook his head, glaring at her. "I hate it when you apologize when you did nothin’ wrong."

Sarah giggled, bumping her shoulder into his. "Sorry."

"You're the worst."

She looked around with an exasperated sigh. "They really did a number on the place, huh?"

Nodding, he slapped the side of the car they leaned on. "Fuckers even took the damn hub caps."

"You are gonna take care of this, right, D?" Her emerald eyes sparkled up at him, hopeful and innocent. His baby sister. "I don't wanna lose you like Eddie."

His jaw clenched at the mention of the name. "Yeah, I'll take care of it."

She held out her pinky with tears in her eyes. "You promise?"

Dom wrapped his finger around hers and sighed, engulfing her in a big hug. "Yeah, I promise."

When he opened his eyes, Dom could still feel the warmth of Sarah's embrace. His mind clung to the sweet moments they'd shared until the end - until the pain made him feel like he couldn't breathe. That sensation forced him upright, scrambling to grab hold of the drugs he'd left at his bedside. He wanted to forget. More than anything, he wanted the pain to stop. 

Green eyes flashed in his mind. Hers and Lena's. He'd made them both a promise… A stupid fucking pinky swear. His fist tightened around the drugs as he forced himself to throw them across the room. "God dammit!"

"Well, ain't you just pathetic?”

Dom's head twisted to the door where Eddie lounged against the old frame. “The fuck are you doin here?”

Eddie shrugged, a heavy sigh following him as he sat in the cot opposite his. “It's her birthday today… Figured that's the kinda thing that warrants a temporary truce. We're family after all.”

“You're no family of mine,” he ground out.

Dom could see the hurt in Eddie's eyes, but as always he erased it with that goddamn smirk. “Feelings mutual, big brother. But, I ain't here for you. I'm here 'cause it's what she woulda wanted.”

“She doesn't get to want anything,” Dom said. “Not anymore.”

Eddie nodded, tensely. “Well, we both seem to have conflicting opinions about whose fault that is.”

“Get the fuck out!” Dom shouted, throwing himself to his feet to grab onto Eddie's jacket and throw him out the door. “You get the fuck out before I fucking kill you!”

“Oh, we both know how much you'd like that,” Eddie spat back, laughing in Dom's face. “Sibling killer that you are.”

It took four of his bikers to hold him back while Eddie waved off his men and left with a bitter curse in Spanish. After the noise of their car had gone, the bikers let him go and Dom was out the door. He needed some air. He needed some space away from this fucking warehouse… This fucking city.

There, illuminated in the golden rays of the rising sun, Mav sat on his bike, resting her head in her hands with a wide - real smile. Dom shook his head, forcing out the angry breath he'd been holding. “It's shit like this that makes everyone think you're a bitch.”

She just shrugged, that smile never faltering. “That a no to taking a joyride?”

“I could never say no to you.”

“It's one of the few things I like about you,” she teased, sitting up as he neared. The flippant, uncaring attitude fell for a moment as she asked, “You okay?”

Dom shook his head and answered with the truth, “No.”

Sliding back on the bike seat she patted the fine leather. “Come on then, big boy. Let's go for a ride.”

“Course, Mrs…. What is it now? Scott?”

Mav rolled her eyes. “As if I'd take that old fucks last name.”

With a chuckle, he smiled at her. “That's my Mav.”

“I'm not your anything,” she argued half-heartedly. 

Dom threw his leg over the seat and settled in with her sweet smell and soft hands around his waist. He revved the engine and Mav's arms squeezed him tighter. “You'll always be my Mav.”

“Just drive the damn bike, Dom.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

[justplainwhump]

Mistakes

Dany is a mess.

[Just A Fling Masterlist]

Referenced Peyton belongs to @wildfaewhump.

Content / warnings: Implied past assault (narrated from external pov), unhealthy coping mechanisms, vaguely referenced medical proceedings, referenced murder.

Kate Tabai lifts her cigarette to her lips and inhales deeply. She has taken up smoking again after the incident.

Helps with the nervous hands. And the nervous thoughts.

She's a failure. And she isn't even sure if it makes it better or worse, that the person she's failed doesn't even acknowledge it.

Dany Hammond stands tall on the stage in front of the container port's employees, tall and confident, as she always does. Chin up, shoulders straight, a winning smile on her face. She's in charge, in control, everyone can see that, even when her elegant business attire is traded for a heavy red overall and a safety helmet.

Invincible. That's what Kate has always thought about Dany.

Until that night, when she'd found her after the gala. A part of her still refuses to believe that memory even existed, that the sobbing, incoherent woman Kate carried into the car and drove through the night was, in fact, Dany Hammond.

She's taken her to a lab, one of those that were loyal to the company, that would keep everything shut off until Dany could decide what to do with it. They'd taken samples, of Dany's blood, of the traces left on her body, while she'd slowly come down from whichever drugs she's been on.

"Don't tell Dad," had been the first coherent thing she'd said to Kate. And that was it. She hadn't mentioned a word of it ever again. Dany must've gotten the lab reports at some point, Kate had seen her pull the envelope with their logo from a stack of mail some days later, with the slightest tremble of her hand. Then Dany had closed the door behind her and shut the blinds to her office. When she emerged a while later, her eyeliner had been sharper than before, her blond ponytail tied a little tighter.

"She broke up with Montgomery", her assistant had whispered conspirationally to Kate, and she'd looked past their boss and wished it were that simple.

On the stage, right now, Dany pushes a button and behind her, applauded by the crowd, the new crane hums into life. Dany grins and claps as well.

Kate can barely stand looking at her.

In her pocket, her phone vibrates.

She flicks the cigarette into the port basin, glances at the crowd again, before she answers. "Yeah?"

"Ms Tabai? It's Nora from the lab. I, uh. This is off the record. But you're the junior's security detail, right?"

The junior. Dany always hated the term. Dany hates a lot more than what she makes people see, Kate thinks. She wonders if Dany hates Kate, too.

"I am. Why?"

"The, uhm. These samples we took some weeks ago. I understood you never came back to us about it, which is perfectly fine, of course, but, uh, the DNA results popped up again."

Kate flinches. "How?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "We run tests for the police, too," Nora says then. "There's been a crossmatch with the DNA found in junior's case. We didn't tell them, of course not, but I... I thought you should know."

Kate reaches out to steady herself on a steel beam. "What sort of case was that?"

"Murder." Another pause. "They say it could be a series."

"Fuck," Kate whispers. "Fuck."

Rich boys can be serial killers, too, Dany had said, in that hotel, on that day that feels like a life time ago.

That day when Dany had hit it up with Peyton Montgomery for the first time.

Because of Kate.

With a shaking hand, Kate fishes for her box of cigarettes and pulls one out with her lips.

"We... we should tell the big boss, you know," Nora says. "She's his kid."

"She is my boss," Kate says around the cigarette, free hand angrily clicking her lighter, until finally a tiny flame shows up. "She handles this her way. It's her call."

"Sure, yeah," Nora doesn't sound convinced. If she's honest, Kate isn't, either. "Just... Keep her safe."

From the stage, Dany's gaze searches for Kate's, a familiar feeling under Kate's skin, that she's perfectly attuned to. In a tiny gesture, Dany points a finger towards the parking lot. They're leaving. Heliport, then board meeting. Kate knows Dany's schedule by heart. She throws away the unsmoked cigarette. She's got to pull herself together. She's good at her job. She makes no mistakes. Not ever again.

12 minute drive. 19 minutes heli ride. 120 minutes board.

Murder. Could be a series.

Dany jumps down from the stage, a perfect display; casual, healthy, confident. She shakes some hands, gives out some polite phrases and sincere smiles, while Kate falls into step by her side.

"Everything alright, K?" Dany asks over her shoulder. "You look like something happened. You need a break?"

For a moment, Kate hates her.

"It's about you." She leans in and lowers her voice. "The gala."

Dany's perfect composure rips, just for a second. Her steps turn shaky, her jaw tenses and Kate sees the eyes of the harbormaster widen when Dany's polite handshake turns into a vice-like hold. "Sorry," Dany whispers and lets go, patting his upper arm. "I must've tripped over my own feet there, I'm fine."

The man retreats with a frown, and Dany spins back to Kate.

"That didn't happen," she hisses. "It's over."

"It's not," Kate says, "There's been a murder."

Dany pales, and Kate hates herself for the flare of smug satisfaction at Dany's sudden imperfection. "Who?"

"Talk in the car," Kate says. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

Dany nods, her face shifting back into her casual smile. By her side, she's clutching her phone in her hand. She's pulled up a contact already, photo of a hand casually holding a drink, in the background a plain white shirt, the jawline of a man's smiling face.

Is supposed to be anonymous, but Kate knows exactly who the man on that photo is.

Peyton Montgomery.

Kate scoffs.

Dany Hammond is much less perfect than she wants herself to be.

[notnctu]

switchin’ lanes - l.jn | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series 

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, pwp???, fluff (if u squint) wordcount ➠ 8.3k details ➠  fem!reader, streetracer!jeno, badboy!jeno, college!au,  ━ where you and jeno are in a relationship, but not with each other. warnings ➠ explicit language, cheating, flirty banter, alcohol consumption, drugs, yall at a party, physical fighting (not with you), mentions of cuts/bruises, hickeys, drunk public dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f/receiving) synopsis ➠ If your boyfriend didn’t decide to join such a stupid unofficial club, then maybe you wouldn’t be in such a sticky situation where Lee Jeno is literally knuckles deep in your sticky situation as he drives you home. Or maybe if your boyfriend actually touched you, then you wouldn’t be seeking it from someone else, who can’t keep his hands off of you. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo​ ; @dearlyminhyung​

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! i hope you enjoy the series pls leave me feedback lmaoo ill literally take anything. we also hit a milestone for followers and honestly its so crazy to know how quickly this tiny sideblog has grown! we’re so thankful that yall follow us, thank u for lovin us and we will try our best to put out more content!! also through the lens hit 1k notes how is that even possible like wow im speechless thank u for everyone who left such kind comments i treasure every form of feedback :) 

The heavy double doors of the classroom stare tauntingly at you. The evening setting in, painting the sky with strokes of orange and pink. You managed to remain complaint free the entire day, until your forgetful boyfriend canceled on you because of a club meeting. A meeting for an unofficial club on campus because it is illegal to street race. A club consists of delinquents that are obsessed with cars and steal your boyfriend away from you. 

This is the fifth time this week that your boyfriend stood you up or coincidentally forgot your dates. You can’t remember the last time he physically stood in front of you and not through a phone screen. However, it is not completely the stupid club’s fault that your boyfriend has neglected you. 

He truly is the worst boyfriend ever. He blames everything on his bad memory and does not prioritize you in his life. He loves one thing --- his car. You could be lying in a hospital bed, and he wouldn’t care to check up on you. 

So why did you stay with him? Because you’re scared of being alone? Possibly, but it is a can of worms that you did not want to open just yet. Sex is definitely not the reason you stay with him. He hasn’t touched you sexually since the first and now, last time you two slept together. 

You try your best, to only be waved off with a yawn. He doesn’t compliment you. He doesn’t look at you lovingly. He doesn’t even kiss you for longer than two seconds. You are a toppling tower, ready to crumble at any given moment.

The anger in your body fuels you as you pull the door open to reveal several men in leather jackets chatting away with each other. One by one, they all begin to lay their eyes on who abruptly interrupted their joyous conversations. Your eyes scan the room full of intimidating men, whose auras cause a shiver to run down your spine.

Your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, given that there are plenty enough guys who have the ability to cover him. You walk into the open space and the entire mood of the room shifts. 

Heavy cologne and a deafening silence fill the air. One particular male, who has been eyeing you the entire time, gets up and walks towards you. 

“Are you lost, baby?” Scoffs and chuckles sparsely cover the corners of the room. The unknown male has a jarring cut on his eyebrow, matching a small bruise on his upper cheekbone. 

“I’m looking for my boyfriend…” Your weak voice trails off from the sudden attractive male intimidation. The tall man peers around the room, crossing his arms.

“If you are this beautiful woman’s boyfriend, please fucking come out now. It’s very rude to keep your girl waiting for you!” Initially, his low throaty shout startles you. A heavy heat falls on your cheeks when you register his choice of adjectives.

The whole room falls silent once more, before your pitiful boyfriend steps out from between two bulkier men. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?” His eyes nervously bounce around the room, a shaky laughter erupting from his gut. 

“Sorry, Jeno. I didn’t mean to cause such a scene. I didn’t even see her come in.”

Like a trigger, you remember your intentions for storming in uninvited. Jeno gauges your flaming reaction to your boyfriend’s apologetic words. He nods, not out of acceptance of the apology, but out of disbelief.

He pulls your boyfriend by the collar of his white shirt and your eye widens at the condescending tone that causes your boyfriend to cower, “I’m not the one to apologize to.” With a careless toss, your boyfriend ends up shaking in front of you.

“Jeno is not the only one you should be scared of.” You whisper angrily to him as the rest of the room continues on with their previous chatter. 

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, “listen, Jeno’s been arrested before. You don’t want to get on that man’s bad side.” 

Your eyes wander behind your boyfriend’s hunching shoulders, catching Jeno steal peeks at you too. There is no interest in the other rambling male that stands in front of him. He just wants to check you out a bit more. 

He is the hottest person you’ve ever gotten the attention of. You feel flustered, and a bit flattered at his lingering gaze. His brown hair is slicked back messily, giving you more to admire. Jeno is an absolute cliche from a bad boy fanfiction. He is unreal, and the odd chance that he can’t keep his eyes off of you, is also unreal. 

But with a light nudge from a blue haired fellow, Jeno’s eyes peel away from your’s. They exchange a few words, which then propels Jeno to hurriedly put on his slightly tattered leather jacket.

You lick your lips to the sight of his body lines as he stands up to follow his friend, but not without another look back at you. Noticing your stare still on him, he bids you a tiny wave goodbye with a smirk to die for. And like that, he’s gone. 

“Are you listening to me?” Your boyfriend’s voice finally reaches your reality. Your focus shifts to the obviously irritated expression on his face. 

“I guess, I’m not. Don’t fucking stand me up again or I will key your car.” You aren’t actually those kinds of girls, but your boyfriend didn’t take a threat seriously unless it involves his highly treasured car. 

And like Jeno, you also make your exit out of the steamy room. The chilly night brush against your unknowingly hot cheeks. Then, you take yourself to the only unhealthy coping mechanism you can think of: a place of free alcohol and no boyfriend.

It takes you a few months to completely stop caring about your dying relationship. You figure how easy it is for your boyfriend to do it, so you make the same decision.

He spends his nights with his friends he made from his club, and has totally become a self proclaimed car enthusiast. You lose yourself in copious amounts of cheap alcohol at your local parties and it’s almost like you stop sulking over a man who kisses his car goodnight.

While being alone did not bother you as much as you had been dreading, the sexual frustration is a completely different issue. You are absolutely drooling whenever your eyes find Jeno in the crowds of sweaty bodies.

If there is one good thing that came out of your boyfriend’s membership in that club, it had to be Lee Jeno and a few other notable people who attended the same parties as you.

He became a very close acquaintance, and you had learned some very important names associated with the Ridin’ Club. Na Jaemin, Lee Haechan, and Huang Renjun. But the three could not compare to the kindhearted Jeno that makes butterflies stir in your lower abdomen. 

Over the months, you also had learned rather quickly that your sexually clouded mind had tricked you previously into thinking that Jeno’s stares were full of lust for you. His girlfriend makes it clear that it isn’t the case.

Although you have caught the couple making out several times when trying to use the bathroom, your feverish, impure attraction toward Jeno never calmed down.

“You’re looking very tempting tonight, baby.” Jeno’s beaming eye smile greets you, even after completely undressing you with his gaze. His arms are wide open to embrace your warm body. 

The parties are always too hot to wear a fully clothed outfit. You often settle for a cute tank top and a short skirt to prevent your legs from collecting extra moisture. Jeno, without a fail, shows up in black jeans that clad his lower half, tucked with a simple white shirt. His tattoos and toned arms being on full display for you to admire. 

“Better make sure your actual baby doesn’t hear that.” The loud beats of the music make Jeno’s chuckle almost inaudible, but his expression remains cheerful, as per usual. “Did you get into another fight?” 

The fresh wound cut through his smooth complexion, which will eventually join the rest of his collection of fading scars. He mindlessly grazes over the new bandaging and dramatically winces. Clearly concerned, you grab his hand away from the injury. “Don’t touch it, stupid.”

His smile curves into a sly smirk, as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” His chest heaves into a fit of giggles, “just wanted to see you care for me.” 

Groaning, you shake his massive hand off of your’s. “Very funny. I should start charging you for my attention.” 

“Name your price, I got all the money in the world for you.” He winks, while lightly pinching your cheek. You are lying to yourself if you thought you could ever stay away from him. Jeno stirs up a part of you that craves the cheesy nicknames, flirty comments and the undivided attention. 

He motions you to follow him into the mess of people. Almost as if he’s a god, the crowd parts for you two to walk through without unnecessary extra bodies. The fear that settles in many individuals’ chest is understandable.

Like your first impression, Jeno is a complete walking fanfiction trope. He negotiates better with his fists, usually with good reason. The guns of the Ridin’ Club, though, his friends are very much to be feared as well. They will not hesitate to run someone over, if given the heated situation to do so. And most definitely, you can count them to be backing up their fighter, Jeno. 

You had not been mindful before of the chatter that regarded the secret Ridin’ Club. They are notorious for fast paced very illegal races in the middle of nowhere destinations and tempers that aren’t meant to be provoked. Besides their intimidating aura, it melts away after getting to know them.

Lee Haechan, the most annoying brat, but has the strongest, the most loyal bond to his boys. He’s also notably funny, often making you laugh with an exchange of banter.

Huang Renjun, the whiniest and initially quiet boy, but grows to be one of the loudest and will chew you out if anyone dares try engaging in verbal combat. 

Na Jaemin, the flirty playboy who always has a swarm of girls, but the gentlest man with a soft spot for cute things. 

And finally, Lee Jeno, the owner of your nights. He is the friendliest of them all, despite him being the toughest one. While his stare can kill, melting away his layers reveal the warmest heart. Not that Jeno is the only one to show initial interest in you, but he is the most considerate to the people he holds close to him.

He has taken care of you for many drunk nights and watched protectively over your intoxicated figure in the crowds. He makes you feel safe and seen, which are some of the many reasons you are entirely attracted to him.

“(Y/N)!” Jaemin’s scream pierce your ears the moment the blueberry catches your eye. He excitedly nudges the other two boys, who are busy pouring drinks into red cups.

“You’re going to make me spill it, idiot!” Renjun grumbles, but looks up to see your dazzling smile and tremendous excitement. His own smile grows, “so the life of the party finally decided to say hi.”

“Hi, my fanclub. I appreciate the long awaited greeting.” Your over the top, sarcasm causes all of them to chime loudly. Haechan hands you a cup and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

Jeno joins you at your side and the five of you clink your drinks to the ceiling. A fit of yells over the music and a competition of who can finish first. As per usual, you set your cup down after draining the entirety. The others are still chugging the burning liquid down their throats. 

Haechan coughs after dropping his cup onto the counter. His face is twisted with the most disgusted contour, “I don’t know how you do it, (Y/N).”

“I already drank more than you guys, so it just tastes like water now.” You scream over the loud music. Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun toss their empty cups into the sink. 

At this rate, you are completely blindsided by the effects of the alcohol as your legs give out to gravity. Jeno catches you quickly, holding your elbows and your head is placed on his shoulder. Jaemin chuckles lovingly, before helping Jeno balance you against the island. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders, as the room spins in front of you. 

“You good?” Haechan pats your head gently, whispering close to you.

“I---” You try catching your breath after being winded. “--It’s hitting me now.”

Jeno wraps his arm around your lower waist to draw you close to him, “want to go sit down?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod, Jeno and Renjun supporting your limp body to walk over to the couch.

The dark living room is lit up only by colorful led lights, but it is not enough to make out much of anything. Everyone is in their own world, dancing and socializing within their own selves. The two men set you down on the cushion, but your impulse catches onto Jeno’s wrist before he leaves. Renjun is already lost in the crowd.

“Can I sit on your lap?” You pout cutely, all the shame in your body has been displaced with courage. Jeno’s eyes soften at your sudden request, and kisses the top of your forehead.

“The throne is all yours.” He says as he sits at your side and pulls you on top of his thick thighs. His arm is loosely dangling around your waist, resting on top of your thighs. 

The intimate position causes your mind to wander into dark thoughts. His strong, sturdy legs feel delicious against your clothed core. While you’ve been in this position once before, you could never forget how protected, yet very horny it makes you feel. 

“What’s on your mind, (y/n)?” Jeno’s deep voice brushes against your bare shoulder and you feel his chest press against your back. “You’ve been pretty silent tonight.”

You turn slightly to face him, “if I told you, I’m scared it would ruin things between us.”

“There’s nothing in the world that can hold me back from you.” He is always so quick to spill such alluring words. His soft lips graze lightly on your skin as his sparkling eyes look up at your expression.

All it takes is one more tiny kiss on your arm to get you grabbing his face, drawing him into a steamy, long awaited kiss. Surprisingly, he kisses you back, open mouth and tongue lapping with your’s. His hands reposition your legs to where you straddle him. Your faces dive deeper into each other’s as the kiss continues to intensify.

Jeno’s lips still have a hint of alcohol, but he mostly tastes like mint gum. And they are comparable to a cloud, the softest lips you have ever made out with. It is like kissing pure heaven, completely different from your boyfriend’s two second pecks. Jeno devours you in a needy way, like he’s been waiting to explore the wonders of your lips. 

However, you pull away when you feel the vibration of his phone against your inner thigh, almost like a wake up call. As if all the liquid courage disappeared, you blink back in shock at Jeno’s plump wet lips. The thought of his girlfriend crosses your mind, and maybe slight guilt for your own boyfriend fills your system.

You quickly start getting up from his hot body, “fuck, I’m so sorry..” But his hands pull you back onto him, your legs finding their way open above his thighs again. 

“Don’t be, I’ve always wondered what your lips would taste like.” A smirk, then a hearty chuckle relaxes your contracting nerves at the potential of a ruined friendship. 

“But, your girlfriend..” Your tiny voice trails off and Jeno picks up your chin. His fingers rubbing along your jawline.

His eyes do another lap around your features. He admires your averting shy eyes, your beautiful lips, and how they all come together to make a stunning you. 

There is no doubt in Jeno’s mind that he is very attracted to you. He knew it the moment you barged into the club meeting. You are his type of woman, a good mixture of confident and timidness. You like to have some fun, and aren't afraid to be bold. Not to mention, that you are incredibly hot and every time you flirt back just makes him melt inside.

“She won’t care. She hooks up with people all the time.” It puzzles you, all this time you had been holding yourself back from Jeno because he has a girlfriend. All to find out that the relationship isn’t as serious as you thought it to be.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. But we aren’t two people to be tied down, but at the same time, we like each other enough to want to stay together.”

Your confused expression causes Jeno to laugh and ask, “what’s the dilemma with your boyfriend?”

Rolling your eyes at the mention of your boyfriend, you sigh, “it’s like we’re still together, but we aren’t at the same time. We’ve abandoned the relationship unknowingly.”

Jeno runs a warm hand up and down your thigh, while he listens intently to you. He nods, grabbing your waist to pull you over his groin. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“No, he’s a shitty person and an even shittier boyfriend. We literally haven’t fucked for the past year. I’m practically a virgin again.” His hand automatically gives your thigh a light squeeze.

Jeno’s eyes light up as you quickly cover your mouth out of embarrassment. A devilish smirk raises his cheekbone, and lust clouds his mind. Gauging his reaction, your cheeks turn hot.

“We’ll have to change that, don’t we? My baby must be all kinds of frustrated. Tell me, do you like when I touch you then?” Jeno drops in tempo, usually when he wants to be more intimidating with a deeper voice. 

You clear your throat intending to speak, but you can only nod your head in response. “C’mon, (Y/N). Use your words, like a big girl.” Even with the loud music and continuous chatter, you can hear Jeno‘s taunting whisper. 

His words tickle your collarbone as he runs his lips against your neck. Your heart is pumping rapidly at the turn of events, as if the possibility of having something beyond a kiss from Jeno is more than possible at this rate. 

Jeno enjoys your small whimpers as he marks your neck with purple love bites. Right in the center of the crowded room, Lee Jeno is just casually giving you hickeys.

“Yes, I love that you can’t keep your hands off of me.” 

Almost immediately, you can feel his lips curve into a smile on your skin. Pop! Jeno marvels the darkness against your skin in the mood lighting. A small part of him hopes you do end up seeing your boyfriend sometime soon, so he can see who you really belong to.

“How about we try touching like this?” Jeno pushes you down hard against his pelvis, the veins on his hands becoming evident from the grip and the tiny drawings permanently staining his fingers.

You gasp the moment you feel Jeno’s hip begin to move underneath you to the beat of the song. He rolls your hips rhythmically to match his speed. His clothed hard on can be felt through the only barrier you have on --- your panties.

The thin fabric is soon drenched in your juices after the continuous friction up and down his length. You throw your head back to every bump against your clit, the electrifying feeling enact more of your wetness to puddle. 

You can’t believe you were grinding against Jeno in the middle of a full party, as if his friends aren’t a few feet away. It is a good thing that your skirt pools around both of your waists to conceal the dirty deed underneath.

Jeno’s lip escapes under his top row of teeth as he rubs his clothed length against your barely covered pussy. He can feel his jeans dampening from your wetness and his eyes roll to the back of his head from how the feeling of wanting you consumes his body. He really becomes uncontrollable when it comes to you. 

This is the most sexual activity you have had with another person for over a year. Jeno just looks absolutely heavenly intoxicated with lust, and your mouth waters at how big his cock must be. You can feel his length the harder Jeno rolls against you, and it is definitely bigger than your boyfriend’s. 

You are trying so hard to stay quiet and unnoticeable, but the pleasure seeps out every crevice. Jeno is trained on you as your hand reaches up to cover your mouth, the muffled whimpers escaping your lips uncontrollably.

“I’m so close.” You admit, your body jolting every time his jean button grazes against your sensitive bud.

Jeno moves you over his thigh, forgetting his incredibly hard dick straining in his jeans. As long as you are satisfied, he can care less about his own pleasure. A low scream erupts from your throat when he flexes against you. 

His thigh is much more stable, with more control for consistency. You quickly notice the dark, wet spot on his jeans and you blush even harder. Your underwear clings onto you from the excessive moisture, but Jeno continues to help you finish.

The strands of hair cover your face, but Jeno needs to see your fucked out expression. He is taken aback when you start riding his thigh faster, grinding harder without the aid of his hands.

His mouth hangs slightly open in awe at your neediness, he truly did not know the extent of your sexual frustrations. Oh, but how he is incredibly turned on by you getting off on him. 

“I want you to cum for me, you deserve it.” Jeno brings you in for another passionate kiss. The mixture of his tongue sucking harshly on yours, and the friction on your clit are more than enough to reach your climax. 

Your legs clenched tightly around Jeno’s thigh. The small knot in your stomach that built, drops like the beat playing in the background. The feeling of white is familiar, but it is more intense than when you would touch yourself. You are finally receiving the pleasure from someone else’s touch, someone who wants you to unravel for him.

Jeno pulls away from your lips, kissing down your neck and collarbones as your chest heaves for air. His palm soothes your shaking legs as your climax subsides. You fall into his arms, and he laughs. The reality that you two just did that publicly registers in both of your minds.

Digging your shy face further into Jeno’s shoulder, he whispers lovingly, “let me drive you home.” 

“Are you still drunk?” The muffled question tickles Jeno’s neck.

“I think you beautifully cumming on my thigh sobered me up.” He jokes and you quickly cover his mouth. Your heart practically stops and you hope no one else heard him.

It is silly that you are now self conscious, as if the whole room didn’t just watch you and Jeno grind on the couch. But, the feeling of embarrassment and regret lingers in your stomach. You mentally thank the dark room for concealing both of your identities.

“I’m sorry for your jeans.” A pout begs for forgiveness as you stare at Jeno’s beaming smile. He takes your hand off of his mouth, not forgetting to give your fingertips a lingering kiss.

“I’m sorry for your boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Jeno parts your hair from your neck, admiring the marks he left on you. A small sense of pride builds inside of him, accompanied by a tiny bundle of possessiveness.

“Let me say goodbye to the boys and I’ll take you home.” 

Nodding, Jeno carefully lifts you off of him and onto the cushion. He leans over to kiss your cheek. As he gets up, you see the darker shades on his jeans from your doing. However, Jeno is completely unbothered and continues to find his friends.

Now that you are alone, you feel a bit nervous that someone would come up to you and talk about what they saw. Checking your phone, your screen blinds you with absolutely no notifications from your boyfriend. Going on social media is worse, as you scroll to see that your boyfriend posted a photo.

It is a photo of his hot, red polished car. He obnoxiously posed squatting next to the front wheel, his lips puckered up and kissing the rims. With a caption that makes every regret in your body disappear, “with my one and only.” 

The phone is tossed somewhere else, wishing to delete the image from your memory. Your eyes wander around the room, when they spot a suspicious man sneakily dropping a small pill in an unattended drink. He, then, looks up and catches your stare. Caught red handed. 

But the male smugly smirks, “you’re going to pretend you didn’t see that, like how half of this room pretended to not see you grinding on Jeno.” 

“You’re complete scum, I can’t believe you just roofied someone’s drink.” You yell in utter disbelief at the unwavering man. His disgusting smirk changes into a menacing smile.

He approaches you, his height allowing him to tower above. You gulp, scared at how he can easily overpower you at any second.

“And what are you going to do about it? What? Jeno didn’t loosen you up enough?” His revolting hot breath beating down your nose, invading every corner of your personal space. 

Before you can find any insult to speak back, his figure goes flying sideways and out of your face. It’d be a lie to not admit your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Jeno’s clenched fists and locked jaw. His sharp gaze watches as the stranger gets up from the ground, inflammation already growing on his left cheek.

“Dude, what the fuck!” He shouts angrily, holding his cheekbone as he winces at the pain. Immediately, the conversations are replaced with gasps, and small whispers at the sight. People gather around the living room to see the commotion. Even you are unsure how to react to the sudden fight.

The other man lunges at Jeno with full force, but Jeno stops him by grabbing the man’s collar, “this,” Jeno punches his lip, busting it open, “is for dropping a roofie in someone’s drink.”

The stranger groans at the impact, but still gets up with a fist straight for Jeno’s gut. Watching Jeno take a blow is much more difficult than you had been expecting.

He crouches over from the punch, but quickly regains his composure to put the man in a headlock. A few more gasps erupt and wonder if you should stop him before he does something unnecessarily stupid. 

“This,” the man squirms to try to get out of Jeno’s iron grip, “is for disrespecting my babygirl.” And with a shift snap, the male falls limp and unconscious.

A surprised intake of air and Jeno peers up at your scared expression. He calmly walks over to you, ignoring the swarm of people that had gathered around the scene. He can only see one thing — you. Jeno’s wandering eyes try to read your expression, but all he sees is a terrified girl.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, are you okay, (Y/N)?” 

Blinking blankly for a few moments, you are mortified at the laying body, “what did you do to him?” 

Jeno looks back at the stranger casually, “I put him to sleep for a bit. He’ll wake up in about 20 minutes.”

A rush of reassurance washes over you knowing that he is alive and Jeno didn’t just kill someone in front of you. You exhale all the anxiousness and nerves, 

“thank you for stepping in.”

“I don’t fight without a good reason. You are more than a perfect reason to fight for.” He pinches your cheek cutely, and his tough exterior fades away yet again. 

His famous eye smile that warms your insides is back as if the scary, intimidating expression didn’t exist a few seconds ago. Jeno’s good sides only appear with you. Nevertheless, you are happy to know how special you are to see them. 

“Violence is never the answer.” He nods, only taking it for a grain of salt. “Are you okay? It looked like stringbean knocked some wind out of your gut.”

The teddy bear thrusts himself forward into a fit of laughter, his head resting on your lap. His melody lights every dark corner inside of you. “He did get a good punch in there, didn’t he?”

His rumbling laughter stops, and he peers up at you. “I can’t believe you were still worried about a complete asshole.” 

Scoffing, you break the shared gaze. “I’m a compassionate human being.” Jeno stands up, extending his hand for you to take.

“I know, you’re the best kind of person.” He genuinely means it with the way his tone remains quite stern, eye contact unwavering. He is revealing more of his intimate parts, and in return, you wish for him to see your’s. 

Silence drowns out all the commotion between you two. Jeno grows shy at the way the galaxies reflect in your stare. “I--” Never once, did you think you would witness Lee Jeno stammer over his words. “I-I, let’s-- I want to take you for a drive.” 

To Jeno, a drive to him is equivalent to your hand in marriage. Even his own girlfriend has never been on a drive with him. It is a big part of his personality, given that he is a crucial member of the Ridin’ Club. However, out of all of them, he is the last one to flaunt his hobby. It is special, almost sacred to his entire being. 

“Me?” It is the dumbest question to ask, but you really want to clarify his intentions. Before this night, you two were barely considered friends. You two never saw each other outside of the late night parties.

But now, Lee Jeno wants to take you on a drive. It makes you wonder if the desire of companionship is mutual, that he too pines to further your relationship.

“I’m not looking at anyone else,” Jeno still waiting for your hand and holding an intense eye contact. His heart lays exposed for you, just right on his sleeve. An innocence paints his usual intimidating aura, “let me show my special girl, what is special to me.” 

He must possess some magic because he knows every way to make you swoon. And like that, your palm meets his and he locks his fingers between yours. 

The moment you enter Jeno’s striking, eye catching car, you automatically relax into the leather seats. His pristine car matches his personality --- simple, but captivating. Your boyfriend’s car is the exact opposite, which is why you never enjoy sitting in it.

Jeno has pieces of himself that scatter his car, like an adorable small plushie that watches out the back window. A beaded lanyard dangles from his rear view mirror. It even matches his scent of a deep ocean breeze.

Unlike your boyfriend’s obnoxious details, Jeno did not have a light up stereo that flashed annoyingly to every beat drop in a song. Instead, a sweet lilac color illuminates at your feet, along with his. 

“You like what you see?” Jeno catches you astonish at the tiny aspects of the interior. 

“Of course, it’s yours. It’s exactly like how I would imagine it to be.” Jeno is proud, hearing you praise his car. Even he can admit, it is a bit weird to be so connected to an inanimate object.

Nevertheless, his car, racing, driving became a huge part of his life. And unlike his friends, he feels rather shy and slightly embarrassed for being such a geek. 

But hearing you actually appreciating the small details of his car when you probably hate every aspect of racing due to your boyfriend’s doing, it makes him feel very happy.

Maybe happy is an understatement, more like overjoy at how you freely can recognize the things that make him content. You respect him, and are mindful that as mundane as a car is, you know that it is something important to him.

Silence becomes the majority of the ride out of the quiet, suburban neighborhood. While Jeno’s eyes remain focused on the road ahead, you are concentrated on him.

He drives with one hand on the wheel as he rests his elbow on the middle console. His eyebrow creases here and there. It is the most normal, mundane activity anyone can do --- drive. That is all he is doing, yet the effect it suddenly has on you can not go unnoticed. 

Abruptly, with the rev of the engine and a press on the gas, the car practically flies on the empty freeway. It catches you off guard, causing you to hold onto the grab handle. Jeno peeks over at your shocked figure, and smiles to himself.

“Relax, (Y/N).” He calls your name, reaching over to rub your thigh as a way to calm your anxiousness. Automatically, your hand grips onto his for support and the other one drops from the handle. 

Exhaling, your eyes are trained ahead. The car is moving so fast that you can’t even make out anything around you. Everything becomes nothing, but colorful streaks against a dark background. The gravity against your chest feels crushing.

“How-- How fast are you going?” 

Jeno glances at the speedometer and intertwines your fingers into his own. “I don’t think I should tell you that, you might actually have a heart attack.” 

The window rolls down and you are hit with rumbling wind, “I know you’re scared right now, so stick your head out the window and take a deep breath.”

You look at him in pure fear, “what?! I can’t even move, let alone stick my head out the window!”

Jeno shakes his head, “trust me. Please, trust me.” He needs you to experience the same thrill he does. His own adrenaline is through the roof, out the entire atmosphere of the vehicle. The amount of joy he is experiencing became tenfold now that you are sitting beside him. 

You trust him and very meticulously, go against the wind. Your hair crazily dances along with the rush and your eyes water from being dried out. Adjusting to the pressure, you also stick your hand out the window. It whips backward, but you feel the wind slip between your fingers.

The rise in heartbeat and excitement pump through your veins. The beauty in the white streaks that create a runway, it is nothing but you and the open space. There is no other way to explore it, except at a high pace. You understand why Jeno loved it so much. 

Jeno bounces between the road and half of your figure out his window. Your eyes are closed initially, before you barely squint open. Tears fly by with strands of your hair, but you start to move your hand to physically feel the thrill pass between your fingers.

Then he sees it in the side mirror: the sweet curve in your lips he loves the most and the wideness of life in your eyes. It only makes him press the gas harder.

“That was incredible! You should take me riding with you more.” You marvel at him as he starts the route to your place. It is complete playfulness that hints in your tone because you are aware of how sacred these are to him. Nevertheless, a part of you still hopes he agrees to do so.

Jeno nods, “only because I like you,” He pauses, gauging your reaction with his side eye gaze, “a lot.”

Your heart sinks to an unsettling place in your stomach. Jeno could not possibly be serious, however, his tone no longer matches the playfulness of your own. It almost seems like he is telling the truth. But you didn’t want to believe that. 

Your eyes make a full circle before settling at the disappearing sidewalks, “stay in your lane, Jeno.” It is to keep the mood still light, you and Jeno aren’t ones to be serious. 

His hand has been on your thigh for the whole night, whether it be out of habit or comfort. His touch is always welcoming and warm, but suddenly, you feel the small squeeze on your flesh. Turning your attention on his face, you can see how a smirk has grown. 

“But yours seems much more fun.” Immediately, your stomach leaps with somersaults. Your throat gets dry and tight, not anticipating that response. 

“Beside, you can’t act like we both haven’t swerved. It was barely moments ago that you were cum---”

“---No need to further explain.” 

“And I’d proudly do it again.” His voice drops several decibels and his hand slowly snakes it’s way up your thigh. All the while, his eyes still on the road ahead.

You gulp as every heartbeat constricts your throat. Lifting the ends of your skirt higher to expose more, you secretly want Jeno to cause your legs to shake again. “D-Do what again?”

Jeno perks up to the sweetness of curiosity in your tone. He pulls up to a red stoplight, being able to finally look over to your innocent face and needy hands gripping the cute, thin fabric. He stares deeply into your eyes, “make my baby cum.” 

Similarly to the stoplight, you give Jeno the green light to pull your panties to the side. You spread your legs wide as his finger massages your pussy lips. He gets dangerously close to your erect clit, barely skimming over it. 

A needy, yet delicate moan escapes your lips and Jeno’s jaw tightens. He’s more upset that he’s missing the view of your legs spread, open mouth in ecstasy, half lid eyes all in the passenger seat of his car. He hopes for another red light, just so he can peek over at your delicious figure.

“Jeno, please touch me.” Your voice is airy and desperate. He hummed in response, completely withdrawing his hand from your core. However, you catch his wrist and bring it to rest on your inner thigh. “Please.” 

The distinct beg in your tone drives him crazy. As he dips his finger into your sudden wetness, a shiver runs up your spine. Right when he applies minimal pressure on your bundle of nerves, you jolt and close your thighs around his hand.

One touch already feels too good to be true, that finally someone, Lee fucking Jeno, is actually touching your nakedness. Peering down, Jeno’s arm is flexing in between your legs. His veins popping ever so slightly and his tattoos paint his smooth skin. 

“Open your legs, babe.” His low devilish chuckle rumbles in your lower abdomen. “Let me give you the lovin’ you’ve been deprived of.” 

You shudder at his cadence and slowly pry open your legs. Jeno stops at a red light and gets to see your reaction as he rubs you in a fast rhythmic pace. A soft cry yelps from your throat and you have to grip the handle to keep yourself from spazzing out any further. 

Almost like a trance, he doesn’t notice that the light turns green. He’s locked into the sight of your contorting body. Your hips have a mind of its own, yet again, as Jeno feels you rolling deeper into his touch.

“Poor baby, you’re so touch starved that you can’t control yourself.” 

“It feels better when you do it.” You whine, your lip being bruised from your biting. But your eyes notice the green illumination and you blink over at Jeno.

He is practically drooling at the sight of you, his eyes are trained at your needy hips and dripping wet core that soaks his fingers. You stop every urge to steal more kisses from him.

Jeno briefly recovers from the trance and steps on the gas. He takes this opportunity to ease a finger into the core, causing you to exclaim and squeeze around his digit. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.” 

“More, Jeno.” The way his name rolls off of your tongue makes his heart flutter and his dick to raise in his jeans. Without much hesitation, he slowly slips in another finger and you moan at the stretch. Pumping and curling, he ensures that you are enjoying every action.

His fingers curl against your plushy flesh and your legs spread wider for him to go deeper. You’re a moaning mess when he curls up to your sweet spot, rubbing his fingertips quickly. The familiar queasy feeling builds in your lower regions, and Jeno becomes merciless with his fingers.

He guides them in and out of you, feeling your tightness release and invite him back in. The sloppy wet noises fill the car and drown out the engine. Your half lidded eyes bounce at Jeno’s unbothered figure and the entire scene seems absolutely unbelievable to you.

One hand on the wheel. The other knuckles deep in your pussy. Eyes focus on the road ahead. A comfortable man spread. His hair is messy from the long night.

It is all too unbelievable, that Jeno’s already giving you a second climax of the night when you could barely get one in a year before. And he loves touching you as much as he loves driving. 

However, the guilty raises as fast as the ball of tension in your gut. You two pull up in front of your apartment building, while Jeno’s tugging his fingers against your flesh aggressively. In a split second, you hold onto his wrist to stop him. 

He shifts into park when the car settles into a spot and peers over to you. A curious expression daunts onto him, rather concern that he might have been too much. “I’m starting to feel guilty.” 

Jeno nods, and retrieves his fingers out of your dripping core. The feeling of emptiness causes all the built up pressure to dissipate.

“I understand,” he begins, but pauses at the sight of your sticky juices glistening on his fingers. Your eyes widen as he licks them clean, a soft moan escaping from the back of his throat. 

The small action spikes your heart rate and you rub your legs together. With a pop! Jeno hums delightfully, “baby, you taste so good. I’m a little sad I won’t be tasting more, especially directly from the source.” His lustful eyes glance down at your thighs and back to your profile. 

“I’ll walk you up to your apartment.” He says way too casually, unbuckling his seat belt. A mixture of emotions are running through your head. There is guilt, but lust is too powerful to ignore, especially when it’s Lee Jeno. The damage is already done, right? It’s not like it wasn’t moments ago that you humped him in the middle of a party. 

“Wait,” your hands find themselves gripping onto his leather jacket tightly. Jeno gently reaches over to release your strong grip and replaces the leather with his hand. 

“Yes, babygirl?” Jeno’s round, friendly eyes meet yours. The lust clouded darkness is no longer there. His hand feels hot and somewhat rough. 

“I’m going to break up with my boyfriend, so promise me, you’re not going to dip out of my life afterwards… I don’t need you to be anything more than a friend. I just can’t lose you too.”

He turns around in his seat to face you comfortably. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I can’t stay away from you, let alone have the ability to leave you.” He reassures you with a soothing and calm tone. His thumb draws circles around your knuckles. “I’m always going to be your friend, whether or not I know how you taste.” 

“Do you still want to try it … you know, from the source?” You shyly ask, an innocence embodying your gaze and voice cadence.

Jeno raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “I’d love to, only if you let me.” 

Instantly, you shift to get on your lower back. Jeno watches as you excitedly position yourself open for him and actually finds your eagerness quite adorable. Your left leg bends behind the driver’s seat and your right rests on the dashboard. 

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs to pull you forward towards him and your whole body slides against the leather. With a slow lift, your skirt reveals your drenched panties. Rolling them off and tossing them to the back seat, he lays eyes on your still dripping pussy. Jeno takes a second to admire your flower, this being his first time he’s seen such a private part of you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” He chuckles deeply, before his tongue licks a long strip up to your clit. You exclaim out of the tingling pleasure that seized your insides.

He flattens his tongue against your bundle of nerves, flicking and circling. His finger enters your pussy again, curling up to rub at the same pace he is licking. The pure sight of Jeno’s head in between your legs is enough for butterflies to explode. 

His sole motive is to make you feel good. There is nothing else in the world that he wants at this moment beside pleasure to overtake your body. Jeno eats you out like he hasn’t had a meal in months. His mouth wraps around your clit. The mixture of his flicks and sucks cause electric bolts to run down your legs. 

You get more wet as Jeno pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your juices are practically dripping onto the interior of the car, but Jeno doesn’t care.

He fucking loves it. He loves the taste of you lingering on his tongue. Your breathless moans. Your waterfall dripping on uncontrollably. The view of you unwinding because of him. Nothing can be more perfect. 

Running your hands through his messy locks, you press him closer into you. A devilish smile draws on his face as he flicks his tongue side to side. “Oh, fuck! I’m.. so c--close.” 

Your back arches upward into Jeno’s mouth, feeling his muscle lick harder and faster on your throbbing clit. He adds a second finger, and the simultaneous stimulation practically throws you into another dimension. The pleasure overtakes your entire lower half, your legs trembling from pure ecstasy as you approach your orgasm.

“Don’t stop, I’m going to---” Then, Jeno pulls away and shoves his tongue into your warmth. A gasp hits the air as he also continues to rub circles on your sensitive nerves. His tongue fucked your pussy incredibly skillfully and deliciously. With this switch, your legs violently shake and try clamping together.

However, his strength holds you wide and open for display. A low grunt follows suit as his dark eyes zone in on your contoured facial expressions. Then, the white light blind you once again and the ball of tension unravels itself on Jeno’s tongue. Squirming and screaming, your hips buck forward on their own. 

It is close to being too catastrophic, this being the most intense orgasm you’ve had after a whole year. Nevertheless, the satisfaction is right on the tips of your toes and you greedily indulge in the euphoric moment. Jeno feels your walls squeeze around his muscle as he laps every last bit of you up.

He is absolutely addicted to your juices, making sure he catches every drop. Finally pulling away, he wipes the extra drip on the back of his hand. Jeno blinks at your raising chest and limp legs. Chuckling, his warm hand massages feeling back into your body.

“Do you want me to carry you back up?” His hoarse, raspy voice wakes you from your post orgasm daydream. You flutter your lashes at him fondly and happily nod at his offer. 

Getting out of the car, Jeno walks over to the passenger side and your arms rest nicely around his neck. His palms support your butt, but also smoothing your skirt over to cover your decency. A poke against your outer thigh makes you realize that Jeno is strained against his jeans.

“I can take care of you too.” You pout cutely at Jeno, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not about me tonight. It’s about you.” Leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, his eyes turn into moon crescents from his lovable smile. The kind, friendliness makes an appearance again.

Or so you think! In a sheer second, Jeno’s deep voice rumbles your stomach and his hooded eyes pierce your soul, “next time though, I’m fucking you real good, babe.” 

You hum in response. Saliva collects in your mouth, already looking forward to more of Jeno. But a chilly draft brushes up your exposed area as Jeno carries you up the flight of stairs.

“Wait, Jeno… I don’t have my underwear on.” The ‘Level 3’ sign is in view as Jeno turns to walk. 

He only laughs and shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s better that way anyways.” Without another word, he continues upward to your floor and you playfully punch his solid chest. In all honesty, that’s not going to be the only time you leave behind your panties in his beloved car. 

Your hatred for the notorious Ridin’ Club subside after such a wild night. If anything, you owe it all to your shitty ex-boyfriend for joining such a ridiculous club. Without him and the club’s existence, who knows if Lee Jeno would’ve still swerve into your lane. 

[oboevallis]

runaway

hey it’s been a hot minute, not really sure what this is ive have it in my drafts for a while, but i feel like everyone’s written this 😂 but i wanted to post something at least also ‘who is he?’ part 4 will be coming out soon hope everyone’s doing well

“It’s always been her, hasn’t it?” Amelia’s voice wavered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“I didn’t sleep with her!” Link exclaimed, slurring his words. “I just stayed with her.”

“Whenever something goes wrong between us you always go running to Jo. Just get it over with and fuck her already! She’ll be all the things I’m not.”

“You have no right to be mad. I poured my heart out to you, I’ve been planning for months on proposing to you. I love you Amelia Shepherd, but your so damn self destructive you’re ruining this for the both of us. I’ve done everything you’ve wanted this is just one thing I wanted. If anything I should be mad, but I’m being the bigger person.”

“You’re being the bigger person?” Amelia chuckled in disbelief. “Talk to me again when you’re sober.”

“Who said I wasn’t sober?”

“Please, part of Jo’s help sessions always result in the two of you downing a bottle of whiskey, which is an incredibly unhealthy coping mechanism.” As she said this she was aggressively packing her clothes in a suitcase.

“Not everyone’s a fucking alcoholic. Not everyone has to sit an a room with fucked up strangers complaining about their lives, when they did that to themselves.”

“You think I wanted to be snorting oxy off of the reception desk of a medical practice while I’ll my friends watched? Or stealing my brothers car and crashing it trying to find drugs? I thought you were different but you’re just like Owen.” That’s the last thing she said before walking into their sons nursery and scooping with up.

“You can’t take Scout.”

“I can because you’re drunk out of your mind, I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Amelia yelled before slamming the door behind her. She fought to get the baby in his car seat, she couldn’t seem to catch a break. She needed to get away, she needed to go back to her original refuge.

“Come on Scout, can we cooperate for mommy?” Amelia begged, fighting off tears as her son kicked and screamed. Despite being a movement baby he hated the car, specifically the car seat since no one could hold him. Eventually the baby was secured, and he quickly fell asleep, as he realized how he exhausted himself after his tantrum. Three hours into the drive Amelia immediately started to regret this, it was a 17 hour drive, and she was doing it alone with a baby who just barely turned one. No, she was doing this, she needed to. She’d be sure to take as many breaks as she needed. This was what needed to be done for her and her sons well-being.

After two hotel visits and countless stops along I-5 S she found herself in LA standing outside her sisters door, but couldn’t bring herself to knock. She knew Addison loved her but she couldn’t help already feeling the subtle condescension. ‘How have you already managed to screw this up?’ ‘I love you Amy, I do, but isn’t this a little extreme?’ ‘You’re clean, right? Because I’ll take you back right this minute’

Quickly she turned around to go back to her car to think about her next game plan before a voice stopped her.

“Amy?” Amelia jerked back around to be met with Addison’s confused yet comforting smile.

“Umm I’m vaccinated, but I got tested if that makes you more comfortable. I’m negative I-I just needed to get put of Seattle.”

“I know the feeling.” The older woman chuckled holding the door open wider to allow the two to come in. “Now let me hold my new nephew!” She squealed as she held her arms out for the baby, soaking in his tiny stature. “I miss when Henry was this little.”

“Where is the little guy? It’s awfully quiet.”

“They went camping, Henry’s been stir crazy for over a year and it seemed safe enough for the two to go away.”

“I’m sure Jake was thrilled.” Amelia smirked thinking back to the time the practice went on a camping trip together and Jake had almost refused to go hence his disdain for the wilderness.

“You know it.” Addison joked along, playing with the baby’s tiny fingers. The older woman then lead the way back onto the deck and settled on a lounge chair under an umbrella. Amelia followed behind and took out sunscreen from the diaper bag she was sure to pick up once they got to LA. “He’s absolutely adorable Amelia.”

“Thanks.” Amelia smiled as she lathered the baby’s extremities with sunscreen.

“Gosh i just want to eat him up.” Addison pretended to bite into him, causing the baby to shriek with laughter. Cracking the first genuine smile the neurosurgeon had since after Maggie’s wedding. “You know I was talking to Charlotte a little while ago and she mentioned she was going to go to a meeting if you want to go meet up with her, she still goes to the one near the pier.”

“Thank you, Addison.” It now felt silly to have been scared to talk to Addison, she always knew how to help the neurosurgeon. “Are you sure you’re okay to watch him?”

“More than okay.” Addison beamed, running her hand through the baby’s hair. “And even if you stayed I still wouldn’t let this little guy go.”

“I love you Addie.”

“Love you too Amy.” Addison assured as the woman walked out to her car, it’d be a lie if she said she wasn’t worried for her little sister. But she was reaching out for help, she wasn’t sure what the issue was but she was immensely proud she came to her and not a baggie of pills.

_______________________________________

“Don’t you think you should call her?” Jo asked as she prepared a bottle for Luna.

“No.” Link coldly said, cradling the baby in his arms.

“At least for Scout’s sake?”

“He’s fine, looking back Amelias made it very clear she’s the only parent that matters or gets a say.” Link bitterly replied.

“I’m sure it isn’t like that.” As much as she loved her dear friend, he couldn’t see where he also went wrong in this situation. “She loves you.”

“Not enough to marry me.”

“She isn’t ready.”

“Her and Hunt were off and on, and she accepted his proposal.”

“First off she had a brain tumor, and because of said brain tumor she impulsively asked him to marry her. She thinks clearly now, and I think she just wants it to work out and be right.” Jo turned around and sighed as she saw her friends annoyed look. “You’ve never been a marriage guy, where is this even coming from?”

“I don’t know it just feels right, i don’t want to lose her.”

“Your gonna lose her if you push her into this.”

“I move mountains for her, I’ve adjusted my whole life for her. It’s just one thing, one thing that I want.”

“Link are you stupid? This isn’t fighting over what couch you get this determines the rest of your life. And marriage isn’t all that, it doesn’t keep a person there.” Jo sighed, since adopting Luna she’d been thinking a lot about her ex husband, and how stupid the concept of marriage was.

________________________________________

“Has he called?” Addison cautiously asked as Amelia fed her baby.

“Nope.” Amelia popped the ‘p’. “I get that he hates me now, but I thought he’d at least check in on Scout.”

“He’s just upset.”

“I know, I just thought he understood. He’s nothing like Owen but since we moved into his apartment I just feel suffocated like I did when we were married.”

“Have you tried talking to someone, professionally?” Addison inquired, leaning further back onto the beach chair.

“What so they can silently judge how I have a perfect life but still feel terrible?”

“Amy, you know a therapist isn’t going to think that, their there to help you without judgement.” She stared at the woman for awhile until she came to a realization. “After Scout was born you didn’t have any postpartum appointments did you?”

“No, the world had shut down a week after he was born.” Amelia confirmed.

“Do you think your having a delayed postpartum depression reaction? I mean you were thrown into taking care of a newborn and three other kids who aren’t yours in complete isolation . Then On top of that you didn’t have time to grieve Christopher. It’s difficult on women who have lost a child previously when they bring home a healthy baby.” Amelia held back her tears, as much as she tried to focus on scout she couldn’t help but feel broken over the fact Christopher didn’t have the opportunities scout has.

“Pre-covid a day wouldn’t go by that I didn’t think of Christopher. Then I just got so caught up in everything, and I’d barely think about him. I mean I almost forgot his birthday.”

“You can’t feel guilty about that.”

“I j-just wish Link would get that I don’t want another baby.I mean he’s ten times more understanding than Owen was about my grief but, I just don’t want another baby.”

“You’re allowed to not want another baby, but do you think it has to do with Christopher?”

“I don’t think so, I just can’t love yet another person without losing myself. It feels like I already have, I don’t recognize anything about me. Surgery doesn’t even give me the thrill it use to.” The older women sat up and placed a reassuring hand on the younger ones knee.

“I’m gonna talk to Violet and have her refer someone to you. Then you’re gonna talk to Link and come up with a game plan. And I’m gonna be right here the whole time, you’re my family. Everyone here is your family we’ve got you.”

[asstrologyst]

More Than A Woman (Intro)

More Than A Woman - After surviving the events of Endgame, Tony Stark has become a recluse. Spending day after day in his workshop without letting anyone in, he finds not only a new way to cope with his PTSD, but something he hadn’t had in so long; a friend. What happens when this new friend develops thoughts and feelings of her own, especially toward a certain super soldier?

A/N: I was listening to More Than A Woman by the singer Aaliyah when this idea came to mind. It’s something that’s lingered in my head for at least a year and now that I’ve got hella free time, I’m ready to give it a go! I hope you guys like the intro! - D. (Sorry it’s so short! Also had to reupload on my phone cause Tumblr flagged it for some reason.)

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Android!Reader (Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Angst/Mentions of PTSD & Depression/Artificial Humans/ Fluffy ending. (It’ll get smuttier & fluffier at some point lol)

If there was one thing Anthony Edward Stark was good at, it was bad ideas. And it was this bad idea that had been spawned from something oh, so human.

Loneliness.

Ever since the events of that day, Tony had spent his days locked away in his workshop on his own. Tinkering away at anything that took his mind of the constant pain that shot throughout the right side of his body whenever he lifted a single finger. And god, it didn’t look any better. He tried to ignore the constant looks he got whenever he did manage to make himself go outside on the rare occasion.

But this was his way of coping with things and damn it, it helped. Sure, it may not have been a healthy thing. Locking yourself away for weeks at a time and refusing to speak to anyone was a giant red flag for unhealthy tendencies and was certainly not normal at all. But then again, was anything really normal about Tony’s life? His wife, Pepper, was the smartest woman he knew and was far too busy helping repair the world after the snap. His daughter, Morgan, was growing up herself and had Happy to watch over her at the time being. And fuck, did Tony needed this break.

He needed to do something. To build something. Something that showed that no, he wasn’t completely broken and incapable now. He wasn’t just mangled and fucked up for nothing. He could still do something. Anything.

That’s when it came to him.

What if he didn’t have to be alone?

Sure, he had Pepper and Morgan. He had Happy and the team, but given his circumstances, he couldn’t stand them seeing him like this. More importantly, he couldn’t stand the pity he’d get. That’s why he needed someone to vent to. Someone who wouldn’t judge him or see him as a weak old man trying to keep up with the big dogs. No, he needed someone different.

Sitting up in his chair, Tony hastily grabbed the crumpled notepad that had been sitting by his desk for weeks, along with the half-broken pencil and began at his best attempt to sketch a human body.

He started out with a head. dragging his pencil along the paper, outlining the shape of it. He created ears, eyes, lips and a nose. Then came the body parts. Arms, legs and feet. Toes, fingers and nails. All that jazz. Until finally, he had the perfect outline of the person who’d unknowingly would save him from his self isolating turmoil.

Seventy-Two hours.

Seventy-Two hours was how long it took, but judging from how detailed everything looked, Tony would say it was worth it. Every single eyelash to every single fingernail looked so…real. One would think that an actual human being was laying on the table before them if they saw you. It was at this moment that Tony had felt somethings he hadn’t felt in so long.

Excitement.

Happiness.

Ambition.

All the things that made him who he was before and in just a few seconds, his new creation, a new chapter in his life would be opened. As if he were touching the gentlest material in the world, Tony placed his fingers on the android’s chin and tilted its head to the side, revealing a small USB-like port behind its right ear. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, revealing a tiny microchip – or as he liked to call it, your brain.

His hands trembled with excitement as he slid the tiny metal square into the robot’s head and practically jolted backwards with excitement. And like clockwork, he heard the familiar sounds of a machine turning on, the mechanical properties humming with the sounds of life.

The second you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was white. You couldn’t register a thing, only the sight of brightness clouding your vision. What it was, you had no idea. Who it was, you had no clue. But within seconds, the bright light faded into something that made your head spin. You blinked rapidly as your eyes took in your surroundings.

The giant fluorescent lights beaming down on you made you wince and for the first time, you felt pain. Even if it was dull, it still felt like something and that’s what made your eyes nearly shoot out of your head with how wide they opened.

Your first breaths were rapid, taking in large quantities of air and expelling it even faster as you experienced your first anxiety attack. Where were you? What was this place? But most importantly – what were you?

Glancing down at your hands, you moved your fingers for the first time in sync with each other, eyes big with disbelief. Moving your gaze downward, you noticed two legs and two feet resting against the large operating table.

“I take it this must all be a bit of a shock to you, hehe.”

The sound of a deep, yet calm voice caused you to nearly jump out of your artificial skin. Sitting upwards in a flash, you opened your trembling mouth as you fought to process what in the world was happening. There you were, cold and afraid and with a strange…thing that looked as though it had the same mechanics, beaming down at you like you were something edible.

“You probably have no idea what the hell is going on,” He acknowledged. “Do you?”

It took quite a bit for you to muster up the courage for you to shake your head and when you did, he let out a nervous laugh. One that you found yourself letting out, too. Surprisingly.

“It’s a defense mechanism, kiddo. Don’t worry, I coded it for you to help you out.” He informed you as he grabbed what looked like to you, was a giant light-up rectangle, before tapping away at it in a haste.

Setting it back down with a small clank, you watched as he grabbed some kind of object with wheels and scooted himself closer toward you, which instantly made you scoot further from him on the table. Noticing this, his smile faded and was replaced with a concerned frown.

“Look, kid. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reasoned, holding out his hand. “I’m a friend.”

“F-Friend?” You stammered, furrowing your brows. Confusion wasn’t a good experience for you, Tony figured that, so he did what he did best. He improvised. Peering around the room, looking for something that could help him and calculating the reaction you’d have in his mind, he finally broke out into a grin when he spotted the little silver baggie on the desk in front of him.

Picking it up, he slowly and carefully, held it out to you. “Blueberry?”

“What the heck is a blueberry?” You felt yourself blurt out before clamping your mouth shut with your hand. The laugh that echoed the room was something you didn’t expect from the strange man sitting in front of you and for the first time, you felt a new emotion: ease.

“It’s a fruit.” He chuckled, taking one out and holding it in front of you. “Check it out, not only is it nutritious, it’s also delicious.”

You don’t know how or what you were doing when you felt your cheeks move upward and your teeth become exposed to the chilling air in the room, but unlike the first emotion – which horrified you – this one was pleasant. You didn’t mind it one bit.

“There we go! That’s what I like to see.” The man smiled at you pridefully.

“What…was that?” You asked, the smile seemingly glued to your face.

“It’s called a smile, sweet cheeks. Get used to it.” He informed you before scooting closer. “Now, how about we get you a name?”

You paused, staring at him and expecting him to explain what a name was and why you needed one. “It’s what I’ll be referring you as, for now.” Taking the hint, he placed his hand onto his chin, stroking his beard playfully as he stared at you as though you were some kind of painting that needed to be seen from a certain angle to understand.

“Sharon?” He offered.

You winced, shaking your head.

“Lucy?”

You raised an eyebrow. He let out a snort and shook his head.

“What about…. Y/N?”

You paused, this time, you felt something different inside of you. From deep within a place you couldn’t pinpoint. Feeling your cheeks move upward again and your eyes twinkle, you knew whatever this feeling you get when you were called this, it was more than just a pleasant feeling. It felt good.

“I like that name.” You admitted, repeating it under your breath once again and smiling even bigger. “It’s beautiful.”

“And it fits you, too. Way better than Sharon.” He admitted with a dopey smile, one that made you experience laughter for the first time. You decided that that was your favorite one. Laughter.

“Well, Y/N,” He spoke softly, holding out his hand to you, which you reluctantly took, standing from the table. “My name is Tony.”

You finally had a name for this strange man that brought you to life so suddenly and it felt good knowing that you weren’t the only one with a name. You had begun to build a list of questions, ones that you knew you’d need answered. What was this stretchy stuff covering your skeleton? What was the wet slimy thing in your mouth that moved when you spoke?

You wanted to know everything.

“Welcome to life, kiddo.” He turned, showing you his giant room filled with all sorts of trinkets, objects far too advanced for your knowledge at that point, but fascinated you nevertheless. “It’s gonna be a wild ride.”

For the first time, you weren’t the only one that experienced this emotion: Hope.

[thenextchapter22]

To Be Loved by Lucifer

Description: Mika is upset to find out she has gained weight yet again and cannot fit into her clothes. She tries to lose weight by starving herself among other things and Lucifer is not pleased.

Warnings: NSFW, Eating Disorders, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Panic Attacks, Corporal Punishment, Insecurity, Plus Sized OFC

Pairing(s): Lucifer/OFC

Word Count: 7,499

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Author’s Notes: Despite the tags, there is some fluff involved as well! And if you ever feel like you aren’t good enough or the right size, just remember you are loved and please please do not copy anything in this fic because, it is just that - fictional.

_+_

“No!” Mika cried out. “No way!”

She pulled and yanked but it did not move. It was stuck. No force in the Celestial Realm or Devildom could help her now.

This could not be happening to her. She was just having a bad dream. Mika would wake up and it would be fine.

But alas, it was no dream. She was really in her bedroom in Devildom, getting ready for Monday morning classes. Just a regular morning like the others… or it was supposed to be.

Her uniform skirt was not buttoning up. She had gotten fat enough to not fit. The reasoning was all the midnight snacks with Beel no doubt, and that was 100 percent her own fault. She should have paid more attention to her own body.

She tried one more time, grunting as she tugged with all her might, she could handle sitting too straight and sucking in her gut for a few days until she lost the weight again. But then the button actually popped off. Shot across the room, hit the wall, and fell to the floor. Mika stared at it like the button had committed murder. And she stared some more, until her eyes burned with incoming tears. She felt frustration boil in her belly, then immediate anger at herself.

Yes, she was a bit bigger than the average woman, a “plus size” to be exact. When Mika first came to the Devildom, surrounded by seven sexy demons who she immediately wanted to fuck but did not have the confidence to say anything, she was insecure in her size. But over the months here with them all, they had gotten to know her and made her feel good inside and out with kind words and gentle touches that eventually turned into more with most of the brothers. She realized she was more than her weight. She was comfortable in her skin for the first time in her life, and it was demons of hell that made her feel good ironically.

So this, this sudden weight gain, it broke her emotionally. It was like she was starting over and all the work she had put into herself was gone in a snap. Every kind word the demon brothers had said to her when she down about her appearance vanished into pure hatred for how disgusting she was once more.

How much weight was it? She couldn’t tell just squeezing her belly between her fingers. It was only her belly, too, because her boobs still fit into her bras, and her shirts fit fine, too, but they were looser around her belly anyways. Maybe 10 pounds or so? Mika wished there was a scale so she would know exactly.

Mika groaned, wiping her wet eyes and scrubbing her cheeks roughly. This was terrible. She would not be going to RAD today, and probably not tomorrow either. She couldn’t let anyone see her so fat. Plus, she would have to go in something other than the uniforms she owned and that would probably get her sent home and Lucifer would reprimand her.

No, she was not going. She was going to starve herself for a couple days and feign illness. She would need to lose this weight fast, so not eating for a few days sounded like a good plan.

Oh fuck. She’d have to lie to Lucifer.

“I hate myself.”

She plopped back onto her bed, her DDD above her face. She sighed heavily and opened the chat with Lucifer.

Hey, I’m not feeling too well this morning, gonna skip classes today. Sorry. I’ll make up for any lost work I promise.

She felt like she was texting her boss, not her... lover. Ugh, she was so nervous he would totally be able to tell she was lying. And usually she was a good liar, but to Lucifer, she just was bad at it. Well, Mika couldn’t take it back now.

The DDD beeped. Lucifer replied. She bit her lip, dreading what he would say.

I’m on my way to your room

“Fuck!”

She threw her phone down and groaned again. This was awful. Not only did she look terrible from crying, she was huge now. Mika did not want the eldest to see her this way.

Plus, Lucifer was probably going to punish her. And not in the sexy way. But in the painful way where she wouldn’t be able to sit for days without squirming and getting looks from the other demons in the house and school.

There was a knock on her door. “Mika, may I come in?”

“Um… just a second,” she called out.

Frantic, Mika grabbed a pair of pants from the floor and threw them on. She would just have to fake it and hope.

Lucifer eyed her as soon as she opened her door. He did not look impressed, arms crossed in his RAD uniform. “You don’t look ill. What’s wrong?”

Shit. “I…”

“Yes?” he raised his brows, his lips pursing just so. Her mouth opened and nothing came out. He sighed. “Don’t waste my time. I have piles of paperwork to sign off on today.”

And that, right there, was all it took. She could not do it. She would not lie to him. She had done so once, with Belphie, and it turned out to be the worst choice she had ever made and it nearly ended up with her dead.

She sighed. “I can’t lie to you.”

He uncrossed his arms, and titled his head down at her. “Well, it seems you already did.”

She winced. “I know.” She invited him inside to talk, an inevitable really if she had thought more into it and just not sent the stupid text, and he sat on her bed. Mika sat beside him, silent for a few seconds. Hands in her lap, barely thinking of anything, simply gathering courage to speak her mind.

Before she could speak, Lucifer cupped her cheek, turning her head just so, and wiped his gloved thumb under her eye gently. The tense atmosphere he gave off was gone and in replace of that was concern, especially in his eyes which were almost always telling to her what he was feeling. “You were crying recently. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She sniffled. His hand was warm, and comforting. “It’s hard to say…”

He frowned. “Please understand that I will always be here for you, Mika. Whatever you need me to be for you I can, whether that’s a lover, or just somebody to talk with. You must know that. So tell me. Why can you not come to classes today? The sick excuse is something Mammon even rarely uses any longer.”

She just spit it out. “I’m…disgusting.”

“Mika!” He held her face tighter, and stared into her eyes with great intensity. It was like she could feel his eyes burning into her own, an invisible beam cutting into her deepest insecurity. Lucifer looked at her like she disappointed him and it ached.

“Do not ever speak of yourself that way again. I won’t tolerate lies.”

Mika’s emotions were going haywire. She was angry at him, angry at herself. “It’s not a lie, Lucifer.” She stood up, practically wrenching her face from his grip, and stormed over to her closet. She grabbed a RAD skirt and threw it onto the floor, and did it with several others, making a pile of discarded clothes as she ranted. “I’m fat as fuck right now! I can’t fit into any of my skirts for school and a button literally popped off of it. You know how long it took me to even cope with this overweight body I have?! Honestly I really don’t think I ever did! I’ve always been ugly. And I always will be ugly!”

He was at her side in seconds, holding her close, hushing her, pressing her face into his chest with his large hand. She sobbed into his arms, clutching the back of his jacket, albeit rubbing her wet snotty face into his nice uniform.

“My love, you are so, so beautiful. Your soul shines brighter than any other I have met. There is nothing I would not do to protect you from harm, even from your own foolish words.” She gasped as he said this, but he went on. “I don’t know what else I could say to make you love yourself like I do.” His fingers found her chin from where it was buried in his shirt, and he pulled her face to look up at him. There was something akin to pity, she assumed, lingering there in his expression. “You know I can and should punish you for this, correct? I have said many times I will not allow lies in this house.”

Her throat was tight, she could barely swallow. She nodded as best she could in her position. “Yes,” she murmured. It was what she dreaded. He did always comfort her, made her feel treasured, but in the moment she would feel ultimately continuously guilty for whatever she had done to deserve the reprimand.

“Good, as you well should. But,” he continued, “I believe you have punished yourself enough. I think I should show you just how much you mean to me instead. Show you just how absolutely stunning I think you are.” He went from punisher, to seducer in an instant.

“Wha—Lucifer!” She gasped as she was grabbed around her waist and tossed onto her bed, bouncing on the mattress. “What are you…”

He looked determined, and a bit mischievous which was one of her favorite Lucifer’s (up there with domineering). Those subtle shifts in his lips, and his brows, it took her some time to figure out just what each expression meant. “I adore you, Mika. Let me show you.”

She gulped, and nodded slowly. “Okay, show me.” She spoke quietly. If he wanted to touch her, let him. Maybe it would help her. She wouldn’t know until he tried.

Lucifer got to work on removing her clothing. First her shirt, which he gently unbuttoned and pulled over her head. She shook out the frizz that came with that and he smiled at her.

This moment felt so intimate, more than any of the last few times they had sex. The last time it was in celebration of an exam she got a near perfect score on and he praised her over and over again.

No, this moment felt almost virginal. She was in a bad place, and vulnerable to every word he would say. She realized this was almost like their first time, when he was gentle and slow with her despite her saying she had been with men before. But he didn’t care, because demons were not the same as human men.

She had been very shy then, but still a spitfire when told off. It was how she had always been. She was introverted at times, afraid to speak her mind in fear of rejection or failure, but then she was also adamant and spoke louder than any other on certain days and for certain things.

And with him, she could be innocent. She could be fierce. She could be anything she desired to be. He let her take control and let her be controlled whenever she wanted. Because she was a human and he was a demon; it was why he gave her a pact with him. To show ‘ultimate love’, Asmo once said to her. A pact from a demon was a bond not unlike love. It was, in fact, the greatest way to show it.

“Darling, pay attention now.”

Lucifer’s teasing voice had Mika startled, coming back from her thoughts. “Y-yes. Sorry.” She blushed.

He chuckled. “It’s quite all right, it’s positively endearing when your eyes glaze over as you think.”

His adept hands found her bra, hands stroking over her back and causing goosebumps before un-clasping, letting it fall and tossing it away. Her room wasn’t cold, Devildom never was really, but she felt her nipples harden instantly.

He stared at her for a moment, admiring the beauty of her pale voluptuous body, before he pushed her back onto the bed.

She went easily. Head cushioned by her pillows, she watched him lick his lips. His presence was calming, but had her nerves prickling in wonder at what he was going to do next. His uniform brushed against her nude upper half as he lowered his body over hers to kiss her mouth. The taste of him always made her feel lightheaded.

Her hands itched to touch him, but she kept them at her side, obedient. He always would tell her when she could touch, he had drilled that into her from day one, and she realized he probably wasn’t going to allow it today because he wanted to show her how much he “adored” her. She really knew him too well but that wasn’t something she would say aloud to him.

Lucifer was an amazing kisser, so much so that her thoughts were nonexistent as he licked against her lips before delving into her mouth. She focused on his vibrating hums tickling her lips, and listened to their soft moans melding together. He wasn’t overly gentle, but she had to press up against his mouth to feel a bit more of him, smell and taste him.

His hands found her breasts while he expertly used his tongue to brush against her own. He pinched her nipples, tugging the pert buds while cupping her tits with his bare hands—and when did that happen, fuck skin to skin contact was the best— causing her to exhale harshly into his own mouth as he bounced them a bit.

He leaned away for a second to say, “Ah, so soft in my hands.”

She squirmed. She was softer, and that meant fatter. “I know…” she said sorrowfully.

He pinched her nipple harshly then in reprimand, and she groaned, pushing her chest upward into the pressure. “No, darling. No.” He growled. “I love your body. Every single inch. And I meant I love how smooth your skin feels against my own.”

The hot mouth traveled down her neck, suckling more as it went, not enough to leave marks but enough to leave her breathless. He licked a line down from her neck which she happily bared for him. One hand left her breast to stroke over her waist, and in place of pinching fingers was his tongue and teeth. Tugging with fervor, suckling and getting her wet with his mouth. He blew against it, and she sucked in air, desperate sounding moans escaping her throat.

He moaned over her breast, his other hand squeezing her and flicking his thumb over her nipple repetitively. She felt it down to her toes and in her core, the tightness in her muscles from the attention. “This body is incredible, and mine to play with. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Mika whispered, head tossed back. “It’s yours.”

“And I do not lie, Mika. Correct?”

“Uh-huh,” she agreed.

“Then listen to me. You are beautiful. You are sexy. I want you to know that you deserve to feel loved, by me, and by your own self.” She cried as he abruptly went to her neck to bite nearly enough to make her bleed.

Sliding down her body from her breasts, he kissed and bit softly at her flesh, tugging here and there with his blunt teeth. Above her belly button he suckled a bit, and then slipped down more. His elegant fingers found her pants zipper to pull it down, and then he was having her lift her lower half to slip her pants off until she was only wearing her underwear, which were boxer style to help suck in her stomach. The band rested just above her belly button.

When he moved to pull down her underwear, Mika reached a hand down to stop him instantly. “Please… I…” She bit her lip, unsure. She felt amazing, truly he was making her feel so good, but this was… this was hard to do.

His eyes shone with nothing but kindness, and he spoke with a tender tone. “My love, I want to worship this body. Let me?” He kissed above her waistband, lips hovering and breathe hot against her skin. The sensation had her eyes fluttering.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want it. Because who would turn down Lucifer Morningstar? No one with at least one brain cell. Having his hands and mouth and tongue and dick anywhere on or in her was nothing short of a miracle, and that was where the problem lay. Her insecurities took hold of her tight, and started to push away any of the desire she felt like burning hot coals inside.

His dark red irises gazed up at her as he spoke, “I want to devour you.”

She shivered and moaned. He was so sexy. Her core was leaking with each second he kept position over her lower half, and he could no doubt smell its wetness. But would he find her gross to look at? She wasn’t as pretty anymore with her pudge and fat belly.

He stayed where he was, fingers lightly scratching over her body, up and down on her thick thighs. She had no problem with big thighs, the more to pull others in close when fucking she thought. But bellies shouldn’t be so pudgy, and hips shouldn’t be so squishy. Especially when you were already a bigger sized human.

“Mika. I’ll ask again.” He spoke in a husky tone, and his tongue dipped against her for a quick second like a cat lapping up a droplet of milk. He grinned devilishly. “Can I eat your pussy?” he asked, and pressed his palm right against her core, rubbing it up and down over her underwear.

“L-lucifer!” she cried out. Fuck this, she couldn’t deny anymore her neediness. Her wants for him. Her insecurities would have to wait a fucking minute for her to have a great orgasm from the Prideful Avatar’s mouth. “Yes!”

“Hm, good girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

Her underwear was tore into bits in milliseconds, Lucifer’s demon claws being used of course. She had no time to react, as his mouth was on her and he was eating her like she was his last meal.

“Lu-lucifer, yes, so—Fuck!”

He lapped at her folds, and made lewd noises as he did so. He kept her open with one hand on her upper thigh, but realized soon that he did not need to and that hand went to play with her clit, index finger rubbing in circles, pressing down against it hard. Her legs had never spread so wide before as Mika gave him full access to all of her private area.

Mika’s hips buckled upwards, head rushing and static ringing sounds in her ears. The kisses to her mouth were nothing like what he was doing to her lower body. He licked over her in an oval pattern, tongue flat and then sharp and flickering like a snake. It danced over her clit for a moment and Mika bit her lip, but he soon focused on her entrance. He pursed his lips over it, humming and dipping the tip of his tongue into her just enough to open her up and make her gush into his awaiting mouth.

Lucifer’s mouth left you, and he suddenly pressed his fingers into her, Mika’s eyes watered and she cried out from the shocking pressure that was totally filing and fantastic. She clenched around him as he worked his two fingers in and out of her for a few quick bursts, then his tongue was pushing between the digits to open her more. His fingers and tongue worked together to get her ultimately wet and open, and he hummed some more, the vibrations of his sounds causing body spasms. The single finger on her clitoris rubbed back and forth demonically fast. She was stretched open so far.

“Ah! ‘S good!” She sobbed, limbs twitching, core tightening. She would come soon, but she held off, waiting. She was obedient for him, only for him. Permission was needed. She was in a totally different headspace, one she saved for these moments alone.

The finger on her clit turned into a thumb and forefinger pinching and rubbing together. His hand fondled one of her boobs, and she could smell herself from how close it was to her face. The musk made her wetter, if even possible. His tongue left her pussy and he licked over her labia while he squeezed her sticky tit, wet from her own fluids. She glanced down at him while she could, and saw his glimmering eyes and perfect mouth against her. His teeth found her clit then, and he licked and nibbled it, never picking just one sensation. She opened her mouth and let out soft puffs of air and shook her head back and forth from overstimulation.

She needed release. She wanted it so badly.

As if he read her mind, or maybe her body, he raised his head to say in a deep dark tone, “Mika, you may come,” before biting her clit and sucking wetly with fervor as fingers pumped in and out of her.

She convulsed on his mouth, legs pushed together enough to press him into her further. She moaned loudly as her orgasm spread over her entire body, sending shockwaves of pleasure.

Once she came down from the high, Lucifer moved away from her leaking pussy. He sat back on his knees between her spread legs, uniform looking perfect still. He licked his lips and smirked wickedly, fingers dancing over his plump mouth to suckle them. “My sweet tastes so sweet.”

She groaned. “Please no.” She threw her arm over her eyes. But admittedly, that was a hot image she would forever remember.

He laughed. “I apologize.” He lay next to her, tugging her head to his collarbone. He brushed his fingers through her hair, sighing. “I hope you know now what you mean to me. And how much I dread hearing you speak lowly of yourself.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’ll try to be better.”

And she would try. Mika was feeling better. She still hated her weight gain, but Lucifer didn’t mind it, so she could mind it a little less. It bothered her but seeing how Lucifer had basically just worshiped her to show her what she meant to him, she could just as easily do this in return.

Anyone with eyes could see that Lucifer loved her in some way. But if they saw him now, not “Council Member Lucifer”, they would truly see just how much. Because that Lucifer hid himself from others, emotions were hard to show on that Lucifer, the one with a public image to maintain, the public image of Pride and being loyal to Diavolo always. Outside of this room they could kiss, hold hands, and speak caring words, but once in the presence of others, he closed off his face. He was protective, still, and caring, but it was a different type of protection and care. It was almost possessive, while in private it was gentler. His eyes were softened more.

And Mika was fine with that, she was totally fine with all sides of him. She understood. She went through tough times herself where she had to be brave or whatever else.

So she never took for granted these moments.

“Come to me when you feel this way again.”

“Okay.” She paused. “Do I have to go to RAD?” she asked, and pouted at him.

He sighed. “No, you do not have to if that is what you wish. But, if you don’t want to go to class today you must stay with me so I can keep an eye on you.”

She licked her lips. “Please, I would like that a lot.”

He kissed her cheek, then lips, and she giggled. He smiled at her blushing face. “Then it settled. Let’s clean you up and get you changed into something comfortable. Then you will gather your school work so you have something to study. I will watch over you, but I won’t have time to pay much attention to you.”

She smirked at him. “Well, I think my attention was satisfied enough for now.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad to see you feeling better, dear one. Let’s go.”

_+_

Lucifer’s study always smelt like leather and smoke, in a soft way, nothing to intense. The air was warm and soothing. Mika used to be terrified when she came in here, sometimes still was, but now she just felt tension she didn’t even know was holding her down melt away in the air.

“You may sit on the couch if you wish. If you need help, please let me know.” He sat in his large swivel chair and picked up his pen and got to work on the huge stacks that layered his desk.

She shrugged. Taking a seat in the center of the sofa, she pulled out her Demonic History and got to work. What felt like hours but was actually just one, she signed and cracked her neck from her slouched position. She glanced up and saw that Lucifer was in the same spot he had been, swishing his wrist over documents in elegant flourish. He was totally focused. Mika was not.

She felt her eyes burning from looking at the notes and work books and tiny texts that filled each page so she looked around for a moment, and fidgeted a bit with her phone, twirling it around.

“Mika, take a break. Go get some lunch.”

“But I’m not—” She looked at him, and he was not happy. His red eyes glowering, pen paused on the document before him. She swallowed, heart pounding. “I could eat. Thanks.” She stood, dropping her stuff on the sofa and table, and went to the kitchens, leaving Lucifer to do what he did best: approve and sign paperwork.

Food did not sound appealing. She knew she promised to do better, but Mika could not take how she looked, or felt. It was an awful feeling she wanted to go away. It would not be easy to hide eating less but she could do it with a big effort.

Once she reached the kitchen she got out a glass and filled it with some berry juice. She wasn’t sure what berry that was used, it was dark red and smelled acidic and had an aroma not unlike oranges which was odd as it wasn’t, you know, orange. But it didn’t poison her so she drank some.

She pulled up Devilgram and scrolled, liking some of Asmo’s posts of new outfits that looked like they were made for Billionaires in the human world, and Mammon’s picture of his face between two magazines with himself on each front cover from his modeling gigs. They looked amazing, and she never stopped being awed at how good he was at modeling. She laughed at the picture Satan posted of Belphie napping upside down on the stairs with his pillow on the bottom step and his legs straight up. He didn’t look comfortable but you couldn’t get the title of ‘Avatar of Sloth’ from nothing.

She poked at her stomach when it growled at her. “Shut. Up. No food. Only juice.” She said to it, poking the fat at her gut. It argued back and she sighed.

Lucifer would probably notice if she didn’t eat. Demon’s had great senses of smell. Also, if he asked, and she said yes but it was a lie, she would probably be punished for real this time.

Wait, she could do what her friends used to do when they wanted to fit into a dress for events and stuff. Puke it up! There was nothing else to do really, because she would not actually eat. But Mika told herself, she had to really do it. If she ate and wasn’t able to, it would be the exact opposite of what she wanted.

So she pulled out some leftovers and took a few bites. She let it settle a bit, messing on her phone, feeling fuller and grosser. Then, she went to the nearest bathroom and, after making sure no one was around, she closed the door and knelt over the toilet. She stuck her finger in her throat and gathered all her inner strength to be smaller and pressed and spewed the food out. It burned, but the feeling was gone soon enough. Mika was proud of herself. The feeling reminded her of when she was 21 and drunk, feeling done for the night at 1am, and then she vomited and was ready for 2 more hours of fun.

Her DDD said it had been over 40 minutes so that seemed enough time for a break. She went back to Lucifer’s room and knocked to be polite, he announced she could enter again.

“Did you enjoy your lunch?” he asked, still scribbling, head down.

“Yeah, had some leftovers.” She sat down and opened her text book.

“Hm. Lucky Beel didn’t eat them all last night.”

Mika laughed at that. “Yup, but the fridge was pretty bare otherwise.”

He sighed, but she saw a smile peeking out at the corner of his lips. “I’ve already got a re-stock before he comes back from RAD.”

She nodded a few times, feeling happy he didn’t realize what she had done. Guilt was building again, but she pushed it down and focused on her studies.

She did a few more sheets of work that needed to be done, and highlighted some other stuff she wanted to ask Satan about for the Potions and Spells class. Her thoughts kept wandering to what she had done, and she wanted to know more. Her phone was calling to her, so she picked it up and started searching. Key words like ‘getting thinner quick’ and ‘vomiting food’ came on her search. It was called purging, and being bulimic. Interesting, she thought, and seemed easy enough. She could do this each night after dinner! What a great idea!

“Now, Mika, this is not studying, is it?”

She gasped as her phone was taken away from her hands, Lucifer standing in front of her. He tutted, the DDD she had been tapping away on gripped loosely in his forefinger and thumb.

“I-I…” she stuttered.

He raised a brow at her, then sighed. “Oh dear. I’ll be keeping this for a while. I’ll be done shortly and I can help you if you’d like?”

She smiled. “Sure, that’d be nice. I’ll always be in need of help… especially with Demonic History.”

He chuckled. “Considering there have been many millennium of History, I would think so.” He knelt down and kissed her sweetly. “Study hard now.” He whispered, velvet lips pressed against her own.

Mika nodded as he walked away, a light tinge of pink on her face. “I promise,” she murmured.

She cracked down then on her studies once more. So much so that what felt like moments later, but was actually 10 minutes, her phone dinged with an alert and she heard nothing, focused on reading some lines in a very old book yet again.

“MIKA!”

She jumped at the fury she heard from Lucifer, it was a tone he all too often took with Mammon, but not ever her. Not like that.

He was instantly before her, a flash of Infernal magic so bright it stunned her eyes as she stared up at him, nervous and frightened at why he was so pissed off.

“What. Is. THIS.”

And he showed her the screen of the phone he confiscated away, open on an article showing vomiting and the art of being skinny by purging. Her nerves tingled, icy cold in fear, and her body shook in small tremors.

He was not supposed to know. Especially not like this.

“I-I-I d-don’t—”

The phone was gone, where Mika was not sure, and in replace of it was his face as he crouched down to her level, lines of fury prominent on his brow. His eyes dark ruby red and almost black. She could feel magic rippling around him, and saw his demonic form flashing in and out. “NO. You do NOT lie to me again, little girl.”

She gasped. His demon form was out, horns and wings and pure rage came with it. The wings at his back wide and terrifyingly black, overtaking the room. She sunk further into the couch trying to be smaller as instinct took over her like an animal in the wild. This fear was too similar, too alike to ‘that time’ and she despised it so damn much. “P-p-please, I’m sorry… don’t hurt m-me…”

She felt herself slipping into blackness. Was he killing her, was she letting him? She didn’t feel anything around her throat, or on her body anywhere at all, just the brush of the couch that felt like it was moving, back and forth, rocking. Or was that her?

And the air was gone like a snap of fingers. She was in a dark place with no fucking air. It was too hot to breathe. Nonexistent oxygen. Suffocation. Darkness. Heat. Shouldn’t darkness be cold?

“Mika. Mika.”

Lucifer called to her from a tunnel. Her eyes would not open, but he was there. She knew he was right there, but he sounded farther than before. The rage was gone, in place was a voice soft and far away like a dream.

Lucifer would always protect her, even from his own pride and anger (Satan was just the same, worried of his Wrath that never actually hurt her). She wanted him closer, even knowing he yelled at her before about her phone. That was how much she needed him. She over looked his wrong for what she needed, and she wasn’t sure what that need could have been just yet. Maybe a kiss? Or to be able to actually see him?

“Please, darling, I am so very sorry to have frightened you.”

A touch, then, gentle on her arm. Stroking up and down, tickling with the lightness of the touch. “Open your eyes. Breathe with me, that’s my good girl.” As if he grounded her with his commanding voice, air came easy then. Oxygen came in violent bursts of stinging in her lungs that faded after a few times of exhaling and inhaling until it was something normal again.

When she next became aware fully, Lucifer was surrounding her, wings and all. He was warm, she thought, like a heated blanket on a cool winter day, and his feathered wings radiated heat like his body did as it was pressed to her. Lucifer’s big hands cradled her gently. One at the base of her neck with his thumb lightly rubbing, the other at the back of her head stroking her hair soothingly. They were still on the couch she noticed.

His chin touched her forehead as he spoke to her, slowly and softly, “You are precious to me. I can’t help but become angry when I see you harming yourself yet again… this time in a different manner. I’m sorry, my love, for all I have done wrong to you.”

Tears stung her eyes at the sweet words. “’s okay, Lucifer. Really.”

“It’s not. But you’re the kindest creature to forgive a cruel one such as myself. It will not happen again, I promise you.”

She shook her head against him, fabric rustling. Her fingers clutched into his shirt, and she pressed her nose into the spot between, nuzzling absentmindedly. He smelled of smoke from a campfire and the ocean breeze. She didn’t have to worry. Lucifer was her protector her, and he only cared for her. She understood why he did what he did.

Mika spoke then. “I’m okay now. Don’t worry.”

“I will worry as I like.” He paused, his long fingers scratching over the back of her neck. “Did you do what your phone said, this ‘purging’?”

“Yes…”

He sighed. “We’ll speak more in a moment, after you have some water.”

He attempted to stand, but Mika gripped his shirt in her fingers. “No. Stay with me, please.”

Lucifer pet her head a few times, and she felt like a cat in the best way possible. She kept her gaze down, embarrassed. “I’m not leaving you. Count to three and I will return, can you do this for me?”

Easy enough to do. “Yes,” she mumbled. She closed her eyes, let go of him, and counted. Before she got to 3, he was back, and she grabbed him tight. He was no longer in his demon form so she held him around his waist, very nearly suffocating in his scent.

“Darling, here,” he said, turning her head sideways. He pressed a glass to her lips and she sipped it. The cool water was nice and seemed to wake her from her dazed state a little.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They sat there for a moment. The crackling of the room’s hearth was the only sound, and she focused on it, slowing her racing heartbeat. Lucifer kept his hands moving on her body, circular motions on her lower back, and his other playing with her hair. Never straying from her, never stopping comforting her with his loving hands. He allowed her this moment of peace for a few minutes, and she was grateful for it.

Until, “Mika, my dear, we must speak of this now.”

She knew it was coming, but did not want it to come so soon. “…okay…”

She could practically feel the way he settled his body, preparing for a speech. He was good at those. Lucifer spoke sternly, petting her locks as he did. “This absolutely cannot and will not happen again. If you eat, you will keep the food inside your body. I know you’re upset and unhappy about your weight gain, my dear, but I’ve said before that your health matters to me. And this, what you have done, it’s incredibly unhealthy.”

She winced. “I know. It’s… I can’t stop my thoughts, they just happen and I…” she trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

He hummed at her. “And when they do come, these terrible thoughts, you will come to me, or someone else in this house. I’ll help you however I can. You have to know my brothers will, too. We all care very deeply for you, Mika.”

She opened her mouth to protest. “But—”

“I promise.”

She sighed. “All right. I will…”

“You will what?”

“I’ll come to you if I have any bad thoughts.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, are you ready for your punishment?”

She bit her lip. She really was not.

He frowned, and caressed at her hair softly. “Mika. We can wait until you are not in such a state.”

“I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes a tad. She took a breath, and nodded. Now or never, or rather later. She hated putting things off to the last minute. “Okay. Yes. I’m ready.”

He assessed her once, up and down, into her eyes then, searching. She did not move a muscle or avert her eyes from his. “Very well. This way.” He led her to his desk, where he moved some papers aside and turned over some other private ones. “Hands here and here.” He pointed, and she placed them. “Spread your legs, and dip your back.” She blushed as she did this, head down and hair in her face. It was obviously going to be a spanking, and she hated this position for those.

He stood next to her, his aura changing with what was to come. She was more in tune with the types of energy demons gave off now after learning from Solmon, and from her pacts, and his was very stern and unmoving. “10 hits to your bottom. You do not have to speak, just stay still and take this punishment. The color system is in place. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

“Very good.”

She heard the click of his heels as he stepped behind her. His hand grabbed her hip, the touch making her jump, his fingers gently holding her still. He made a soft noise as if to assure her she was fine. Then his other hand rubbed over her ass, almost warming it up for the pain to be given. Briefly she thought if she was wearing her RAD skirt he would be able to see her panties from her positioning.

She tensed in anticipation as he just kept rubbing her butt. It was the second worst part of being spanked, waiting for it to start, while the first was obviously being spanked. This was what Lucifer did best, though, make her wait; it was part of the punishment.

The swat was sudden and really hard. She grunted, the discomfort flaring up. She vaguely heard the swooshing of… what was that? A paddle? No, it was too small. She widened her eyes in recognition. Oh fuck, it was a ruler, wasn’t it? She turned to look, but then his stern voice halted her.

“Keep facing forward.”

So she did, and two more hits came in hard succession. They stung like hell, the contact worse than a paddle because it was so thin and the force of the ruler seemed to be more intense. Her nails ground on the desk a bit. It got her entire ass, not just one cheek, and he hit it at a different angle.

Mika’s eyes watered up, and after the next hit, harder than the first ones, she grit her teeth and felt her throat get hot. She lost focus when his hand rubbed over the spot he hit then on her left butt cheek, and he rubbed really hard, too, so hard she could feel the indents the ruler made from the edges. She only kept her position because he held her hip so tightly.

He went hard on the rest, fast and efficient. So efficient Mika barely held her legs up. Her ass was burning and stinging and her stomach was clenched tight. Her arms shook holding her upper body against the desk. Was it over? She had no idea.

“You did so well.”

She collapsed forward onto her forearms, eyes watering up. A few tears fell onto the desk. “I’m sorry, for everything.”

“I know, love, it’s all forgiven. Come, let’s rest on the sofa.” He took her around her waist, leading her while she wiped her face. He sat down first, pulling her across his lap sideways so her legs rested long on the furniture. Then he chuckled as she sat on his lap and cried out from the sting.

She smacked his chest lightly, pouting. “Jerk. It hurts.”

He rubber her inner thigh, cooing almost sympathetically and sarcastically at the same time. “That’s how punishments work, Mika.”

She said nothing, grumbling about asshole demons. He just laughed some more, but it helped her mood settle a bit. The spanking wasn’t that bad, honestly it could have been worse. And she knew that had he not frightened her so much before she probably would have received 10 more hits to her ass than she did. She was almost glad he freaked out on her, her ass was certainly thankful.

“Hm. I hope you know I will be informing the others of what happened.” Her eyes widened. “Not of your spanking, although I’m sure if any had been near they would no doubt have heard it. No, I’m speaking of what we’ll call your… unhealthy dieting… to put it in a kind way.”

“Please no, don’t tell them Lucifer! I promise I’ll do better,” she begged.

But she was no Asmo and she could not charm any demon. He tutted at her, tipping her chin up to gaze at her with his beautiful red eyes. “It must be done to keep you safe. They’ll look after you when I cannot. Do you understand why I’m doing this?”

She sighed. “Yes… I just don’t like it.”

“Again, my darling, punishment.” His eyes twinkled.

She growled, and he laughed, kissing her lips sweetly, killing her hate with his wonderful talented mouth. “My adorable little Mika.”

She blushed. “Luci…”

He pulled her close. “I love you.”

She leaned into his embrace. “I love you too.”

They sat there, close and warm, Mika’s butt tingling occasionally. But she focused on Lucifer’s arms around her, and his lips tickling her hair as he breathed. She would never get over how he made her feel so many amazing things. Or just how much he treated her like family even though she was human. Being loved by Lucifer was such an unimaginable thing, and yet here he was, loving her with all his being.

[raccdog]

UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS (PART 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4  | Part 5

(Quick notice: I’m not tagging as many people from now on as I was doing before because it takes so long -previously tagged will keep being tagged don’t worry,- if you want to keep up with the updates please just follow me or the tag #unhealthy coping mechanisms or #UCM. Just know that your support is super appreciated and motivates me a lot! I always try to check all notes so don’t be shy and leave a comment, critique, theory, or simply ask, my asks are open! Thank you again for all the support guys. Now onto the juice)

Fuck Hawkmoth. That was the only thing Chat Noir was able to chant inside his head. It was late in the evening and the sun had already come down, the Parisian lights having lit up hours ago.

Of course there had to be an akuma today, at this hour, just as he’d been in the middle of a date with Kagami. Well, not exactly a date date. Sure he found Kagami attractive -not because of her similarities with Ladybug, he didn’t have a type,- and wanted to spend more time with her. But he couldn’t bring himself to do datey stuff like kissing or embracing each other. He wasn’t ready. He was sure he’d get into it as time went on. That’s how it was for everyone right? They started dating and then developed feelings. At least that’s what he hoped for.

The date was probably ruined by now anyways, having had to ditch Kagami in the cinema’s cafe after the alarm had went off.

A flash of red in the corner of his eyes caught his attention, making his heart do somersault inside his chest. He hated how much power she hold over him. He hated how his emotions did pirouettes because of her. He hated his own traitorous heart the most, for he was trying, really trying hard to move on, but it seemed fruitless every time, a piece of him seemed like it would always belong to her.

He landed on a rooftop, facing the Louvre Museum’s plaza, where the akumatized villain seemed to be causing chaos. Ladybug landed next to him five seconds later.

“Hey Bug-” He bit his tongue. “Hey Ladybug,” he corrected himself. He had to constantly remind himself that pet names weren’t appropriate anymore.

“Hey Chat,” she answered softly. He turned to look at her in concern. Ladybug didn’t use that tone of voice normally. Her mask covered most of her face, but he could still make out the exhaustion in her eyes and pale cheeks.

“You ok Ladybug?” He questioned worriedly. “I’m fine Chat I’ve just been…busy.” She said dismissively. He couldn’t help but frown. He knew his lad- Ladybug like the palm of his hand. She was hiding something and not confiding in him, once again. Ladybug keeping secrets, what a surprise. So shocking. The thought came to him involuntarily, so quickly and full of bitterness he couldn’t stop himself. He needed a break. This week’s events had affected his humor too much. He shook his head, trying to dispel some of the sour mood he found himself in. He knew it was petty of him to think that way. Ladybug wasn’t at fault here, even if he’d like she’d rely more on him.

Another crash and more screams made both heroes focus in the akumatized victim again.

“Ready to kick some akuma butt Ladybug?” He smiled, hoping that his voice sounded more cheery than he felt. A loud boom as he went to stand up made him loose his balance, almost toppling over the side of the roof. He looked at Ladybug once again. She was pulling a weird face.

“I think we’ll need help for this fight.” She admitted.

“But who, Master Fu is MIA and he’s supposed to have the miraculous!”

“Not all of them,” Ladybug started running in the opposite direction. “Distract the akuma Chat, I’ll get help!”

“If it isn’t Dragon-girl!” Chat Noir called when he saw Ryuko landing behind Ladybug. He dodged a shot from the akuma and back-flipped until he was next to the other two superheroines “So what do we do now?” He asked, twirling his baton to repel another shot directed towards them.

“You two try to get closer and keep the akuma distracted,” Ladybug announced. “I’ll call my Lucky Charm from afar and then just follow my lead,” she commanded, zipping away with her yo-yo. Chat turned to see Ryuko, her eyes in complete focus. He had to contain a chuckle. Kagami was always so serious. He did felt bad for ditching her before, he’ll have to apologize. “Looks like it’s just us now Firecracker,” he joked, jumping to the side to evade an attack. Kagami whirled to look at him, surprise and shock written on her face. Shit, he had called her with a nickname. “Don’t call me that ever again,” she growled, narrowly dodging another beam. He couldn’t do it anymore. She was just so much fun to tease. “Sure thing Firecracker,” he smirked, looking at her directly.

“Chat look out!” Then suddenly everything was bright.

“What were you thinking you dumb cat!” Ladybug cried, dropping beside him, akuma purified and the Miraculous Cure performed. “What could possibly be so distracting that you don’t dodge a direct attack to the face?” She screeched, pulling lightly at her pigtails in rage.

He opened his mouth to defend himself but Ryuko spoke before he had the chance to say anything. “Apparently calling me Firecracker,” she growled, brows contorted in rage. Ladybug whipped her head around to look at the dragon hero. “He called you what now?” She asked incredulously. She then turned to glare at him, her eyes seething and grounding him against the concrete tiles on the floor.

“How can you be so irresponsible?” She reproached. “You could have been badly hurt! And for what? Just so you could flirt with someone?” She continued to berate him while pacing. “Also I’m pretty sure Ryuko doesn’t appreciate you calling her pet names just like I told you to stop before!” Chat Noir felt his own eye twitch at her, rage building quickly inside of him.

The heroes the noticed the growing crowd surrounding them. It wouldn’t be long before the press got here.

“Notre Dame in 5 minutes,” she growled to him before facing the other heroine. “Come on Ryuko, follow me,” she directed, whipping out her yo-yo as they both jumped away.

Chat Noir landed briskly on the church’s tower, his previous anger still flaring. When he saw the figure of Ladybug touch down he marched towards her. The look on her face told him he probably should be careful, that he was treading dangerous waters, but at that point he couldn’t care less. The pent up frustrations from the week too much for a hot-headed teenager. He stopped in front of her, so close he could feel her ragged breath on his face as he towered over her. He could tell she was angry too, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. He was angry too.

“What were you thinking,” she started, not moving even as he stood so close. She wasn’t one to back away after all.

“What’s the matter Ladybug,” he sniped. “Jealous?” He saw with satisfaction as her nostrils opened and her eyes narrowed. “You know that’s not what I-”

“I can call her or any girl whatever I want!” He interrupted. “No you can’t if it’s gonna affect your concentration!” She exclaimed. She shoved a red-clad finger in his chest. “Besides, Ryuko already has someone she’s romantically involved with, you shouldn’t even-”

“Does she now,” He cut once again, knowing it drove her up the walls whenever he did so. “Why should I believe you? To me it seems like you are jealous and making things up,” He accused with snide. He was lying through his teeth, he knew. After all, the person Ryuko was involved with was himself. But he couldn’t help it. The satisfaction he found in causing her to react was too great. He knew he’ll probably feel guilty in a few hours after the rage haze had dissipated and he’ll cry himself to sleep but at this point in time he couldn’t think straight.

“I am not! Goddammit Chat I’ve told you time and time again to stop calling me nicknames-”

“Oh I’m stopping alright!” He sneered “I’m not calling you anything other than Ladybug ever again!” He chuckled humorlessly as he hissed right in her face. “You aren’t special anymore, Ladybug.”

He realized he may have acted too cruelly when he saw her flinch, stepping away from him as if he’d electrocuted her. The rapid movement made him catch a whiff of a strange smell coming from her, but he didn’t ponder on it too much as he looked directly at her. Her expression was unreadable and Chat Noir couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. He wanted to apologize but the stubborn pride inside him rebelled at the idea. The sensible part in him knew he had gone too far and wanted to rush to her side, retract what he’d said and hug her.

He didn’t have time to choose on what to do, because she turned around and neared the edge, ready to go, yo-yo in her hand.

“Get some rest, minou,” was the only thing she said, softly, before she zoomed away, leaving him alone on the tower’s roof, her voice weighing as heavily as his heart felt.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4  | Part 5

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[splendidlyimperfect]

Sting and Rogue barely escape Sabertooth with their lives, and Sting turns to the only place he can think of to help - Fairy Tail. While they try to sort out their feelings and recover from the abuse Jiemma inflicted on them, Sting and Rogue must help the other guilds protect Fiore from their biggest threat yet - dragons.

Chapter Summary: Rogue refuses to fall to the darkness with Sting to light his way. Natsu comes up with a new plan to defeat the dragons, but there are complications along the way.

Chapters (7/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Characters: Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Erza Scarlet, Lucy Heartfilia, Wendy Marvell, Porlyusica (Fairy Tail), Makarov Dreyar, Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine, Future Rogue Cheney, Jiemma (Fairy Tail), Gajeel Redfox Additional Tags: Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Abuse, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Platonic Cuddling, Sign Language, Magic Fusion, Unison Raids, Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Friendship, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 3 of what we choose to become

** TW for graphic violence

-----

Rogue was exhausted.

He stumbled forward, flinging another attack at the dragon before sinking back into the shadows when it retaliated with flames. The dark alley gave him a moment of reprieve and he leaned against the wall, panting and holding his injured arm as he stared up at the sky.

The dragon was still up there, and he could see Natsu on its back, explosions following him as he fought the unfamiliar enemy – the person who was supposedly Rogue.

“It’s not me,” Rogue insisted, taking a deep breath and leaping out to attack again. The edge of the dragon’s tail caught him in the back, and he cried out as he slammed face-first into a building.    

All you can do is accept your fate.

Rogue froze. That wasn’t the dragon’s voice.

“No,” he whispered, eyes widening as the familiar darkness fought at the walls he’d spent so long building up around it. He’d kept it at bay for all these years and now it scraped at his mind, sharp and aching; begging to be let free.  

You can’t stop it, the shadow whispered. He is what you become.

Rogue dropped to his knees, sharp edges of broken glass digging into his skin. The scattered light across the sky illuminated the shards – flecks of brightness mixed with ash and blood. Thin tendrils of shadow crept across the ground, spreading into a dark mockery of his pain.

“No,” he begged.

Yes, it whispered.

Continue reading on AO3

The numbness of the past few days was quickly being pushed away by a deep, terrified ache that spread through him until every nerve in his body was burning. He stared at his hands, already stained with blood, and nearly threw up.

He couldn’t do this – not alone, not without Sting. But Sting wasn’t here. He was fighting, being brave and beautiful and trying his best to keep everyone safe.

“I can’t,” Rogue gasped, breathing ragged. “I won’t.”

You will, the voice said, words tearing through Rogue like an avalanche that made his teeth hurt. You alone will survive, and you will—

“Rogue!”

That was Sting’s voice – radiant enough to break through the darkness spreading deep into Rogue’s body. He let out a shaky breath, refusing to look up in case it wasn’t real, just another imagined—

“Rogue.” The voice was close, now, and there was a hand on his shoulder, and then Sting was there, eyes bright, face dirty and bruised, perfect and holy and everything Rogue needed. “C’mon,” Sting said, grabbing both Rogue’s arms and tugging him to his feet. “Are you hurt?”

“You…” Rogue gripped Sting’s arms, nails digging into Sting’s skin, trying to breathe around the terrified pressure in his chest. “I…”

“It’s okay,” Sting said, pulling Rogue close and pressing their foreheads together. The sounds of the battle around them faded, pushed away by the pounding of Rogue’s heartbeat and Sting’s soft breath on his cheek.

“You’re here,” Rogue whispered, flinching as a roar split the sky and rubble pounded down around them. The dragon Sting had been fighting burst through the buildings nearby; teeth bared, ready to tear them apart.

“Always,” Sting said, squeezing Rogue’s arms and pulling him into a quick kiss. “We can do this. Together.”

Together, Rogue thought as he returned the kiss, pushing away the desperate terror that threatened to swallow him whole. The darkness inside him craved it, latched onto it with sharp claws and kicked at him, trying to escape.

He wouldn’t let it. He could be strong if Sting was here, if he had Sting’s light to burn away the shadows.

“Okay,” Rogue said, pulling away from Sting and gazing into the bright blue of his eyes before looking back at the dragons. “Together.” 

~

Gray staggered backward, wiping at the blood still dripping down his forehead. Clouds of smoke billowed around them, picking up the ashes of the ruined city and scattering them into the wind.

“Get down!”

Lyon appeared in front of him, shoving Gray backward behind a piece of rubble as beams of light pierced the air around them, shattering anything in their way.

“Thanks,” Gray panted, leaning forward and trying to catch his breath. The acrid smoke in the air made it nearly impossible and he doubled over, coughing.

“How many of these things are there?” Lyon demanded, peeking out from behind their makeshift shelter and quickly ducking back into cover. The hatchlings were everywhere, destroying the city and threatening to overwhelm them. “We’re never going to be able to take them all out.”

Gray glanced back at Juvia, who was crouched behind them, arm bleeding and face set in determination. Then he looked back up to the sky, where the two dragons clashed – one fire, one… something else.

“We have to,” he insisted, spitting blood onto the ground and wiping his face. “They’re still evacuating, we have to keep these things occupied. We can’t give up.”

Natsu was up there, and Gray couldn’t let him down.

An ache spread through his chest at the idea of losing, of falling in the battle and never telling Natsu about the stupid way his heart fell apart every time they touched each other.  

Another blast rocked the ground and he stumbled, grateful for Lyon’s hand that caught him before he fell. Then Juvia was beside him and he could feel their magic, the three of them, perfectly in sync and ready to keep fighting.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and bracing himself as frost crept up his arms. “Let’s do this.” 

~

Sting saw the dragon’s wing coming at him a second too late and took the hit directly in his chest. The impact tossed him across the street and into a building, bringing down a chunk of rubble that barely missed his head.

“Sting!” Rogue shouted, but Sting waved off his concern, struggling to his feet and wiping blood from his mouth. It hurt to breathe – the sound was wet and ragged, but he could still stand.

Sting staggered forward, blasting the larger dragon with a wave of holy magic that lit up the entire alley, casting all of them in an eerie light. The magic burned along Sting’s skin that was still red and blistered from the fire dragon’s attack, but Sting gritted his teeth and pushed through.  

They had to win. Things were just getting better – they were safe, and protected, and Rogue had kissed him for the first time, and Sting wasn’t about to let that go.

An enormous set of claws raked through the air toward him and Sting braced himself for the impact, but before it could hit, a hand gripped his wrist and yanked him back into darkness. His breath caught in his throat, entire body freezing up in the shadows, but then Rogue had him around the waist and they were stumbling out on the other side of the dragons.

Sting stared at Rogue and a thousand words passed between them as the world crumbled, falling into ash and ruin. Rogue’s tight grip on Sting’s arms hurt, but he ignored the pain, instead leaning in and pressing a fierce kiss to Rogue’s lips.

Then they both turned toward the dragons, hands clasped, magic stitching itself together into a perfect pattern of black and white that sprang from their fingertips and raced through the air.

The attack left Sting breathless and he nearly collapsed, only held upright by Rogue’s tight grip on his hand.

“Fuck,” he whispered as the dust cleared and both dragons remained in front of them, whole and unharmed. “How the hell are we—”

Sting? Rogue? Are you there?

Sting looked around in confusion as Natsu’s voice echoed around them, faint and unstable. “Natsu?” There was no answer.

Max is letting me talk to you, Natsu said eventually. Get to the fountain, we have a new plan.

“To the—what are we supposed to do with the dragons?” Sting demanded, but there was no answer. Rogue looked between Sting and the two dragons, jumping when another voice came from behind them.

“We’ll handle them.” It was Erza. She was still limping, being supported by man with blue hair and a face tattoo that Sting didn’t recognize. “Go.”

“You can’t—”

Erza shook her head, letting go of the man and standing unsteadily with her sword in both hands. “If Natsu has a plan,” she said, “you need to go to him.”

Sting knew Erza wasn’t a dragon slayer, but there was something in her posture that made him feel confident that she could at least keep the dragons at bay while they figured out another solution. Hopefully it would be something more permanent.

“Go,” the man said. “We’ll keep them occupied.”

Sting nodded, taking one last look at the destruction around them before grabbing Rogue’s hand and taking off toward the fountain. 

~

They were losing.

Gray skidded backwards across the rubble, grasping his side and breathing heavily. A searing pain ripped down his left side from where the creature’s claws had raked across him. He pressed his hand to the area, and when he took it away, it was dark red.

“Fuck,” he muttered, trying to summon a patch of ice to cover the wound. When the ice immediately melted away, Gray new it was bad. He pressed his hand tightly against the area to try and slow the bleeding.

“You givin’ up, Snowflake?”

Gray blinked, wiping at his eyes and looking up through the smoke. Natsu stood there, bruised and bloody, his side marred by an enormous wound that appeared to have been cauterized.

“What’re you… doing here?” Gray ground out as Natsu stepped closer to him. He grunted in pain as Natsu grasped his arms and stared at him with concern.

“Long story,” Natsu said, voice low as he stepped closer into Gray’s space. His skin was hot against Gray’s, and Gray tried to focus on the sensation rather than the searing pain in his side. “That looks bad,” Natsu said, gently trying to pry Gray’s hand from his side. Blood bubbled between Gray’s fingers and he cried out.

“Don’t—it’s fine,” Gray panted, shaking his head and staring over Natsu’s shoulder at the hatchlings. Lyon and Juvia were still fighting, ice and water forming and breaking as they pushed against the tide. Further into the city the other dragons were roaring, spreading devastation in their wake.

“You’re not fine,” Natsu insisted, tugging off his scarf and wrapping it around Gray’s torso, ignoring Gray’s protests when the fabric started to stain dark red. “You need to get somewhere safe.”

“Nowhere is safe,” Gray argued, trying to breathe through the pain. He looked up at Natsu – at his ridiculous green eyes, wide with concern.

“We can—”

“We’re never going to win this,” Gray said, shaking his head. “Not if we don’t take out at least one of the dragons. Maybe I can use Iced—”

“Don’t you dare,” Natsu hissed, squeezing Gray’s arms so hard it hurt. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“If it’s the only—”

“It’s not the only way!” Natsu’s voice was thick and Gray was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “It’s never going to be the way; do you understand me?”

“Natsu, I—”

Natsu interrupted him again, this time with his lips on Gray’s. “You’re an idiot,” Natsu murmured, bringing one hand up to Gray’s hair and holding him close as he kissed him. “But you’re my favorite idiot, and I’m not gonna lose you.”

Gray nearly collapsed at the sensation of Natsu’s lips on his, trembling as the fear from earlier dissipated into a sense of contentment. He kissed back, hard and desperate, fingers tight on Natsu’s arms to keep them both from falling apart.

They broke apart quickly as another blast shattered the cover they were hiding behind, sending pieces of debris flying in every direction. The soft sense of intimacy between them fractured and was quickly replaced by smoke and flames and screaming.

“Natsu—” Gray started, moving back to pull him away from the wreckage, but his words were interrupted by a brilliant blast, followed immediately by a searing, unbearable pain that knocked him off his feet.

Everything stopped.

Natsu’s mouth was moving but Gray couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything but the slam of his heartbeat as his life spilled out of him, bit by bit. Everything blurred. Another light. More pain, scorching, ripping him apart.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Nat…su…” He forced the word out, breath escaping in a thin gasp as Natsu touched his chest, pushing against the wounds, trying to stem the blood that bubbled over his fingers and poured down the backs of his hands.

“No.” Gray could hear Natsu now, just barely. His vision blurred, hands going numb as he tried to hold onto Natsu’s wrists. “No, please—Gray, no, c’mon, look at me.” Panic stained the words, drew them out in a rush as Gray’s breath turned wet and copper bubbled in the back of his throat.

“C-can’t…”

“Don’t talk, just look at me. You’re gonna be okay.” Natsu’s hands were everywhere and everything was red, and it didn’t hurt anymore because all the feeling in Gray’s body was slowly slipping away. “Please, please, no.”

Natsu touched Gray’s face, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pulled Gray close, forehead pressed against Natsu’s shoulder. “You can’t leave me,” Natsu begged, voice thick with tears. “I need you.”

Gray blinked, choking on blood as he tried to focus, tried to keep himself here long enough to do what he needed to do.

“Take…” He couldn’t make the words, but he gave anyway, pushing what little magic he had left out along with the blood that spilled over Natsu’s hands. It was so cold, and he watched as frost crept over Natsu’s arms and sunk into his skin.

If Gray was going to die, he could at least help keep Natsu safe.

“No,” Natsu sobbed. “Please. Please, I love you.”

I love you, too, Gray thought, wishing he had the strength to say the words.

The last thing Gray felt was the press of Natsu’s lips to his forehead, then a bright light, then nothing at all. 

~

This wasn’t real.

Natsu clutched at Gray’s arms, pulling him closer, begging as Gray’s eyes closed and he exhaled one last time. Then his body went limp against Natsu’s chest.

“No,” Natsu sobbed, as anguish tore him apart. “Gray! Wake up. C’mon, you’re—you’re okay. Wendy’s—she’s… she’s somewhere, she can…” Natsu looked around frantically, trying to pick out a familiar face through the destruction that surrounded them. Someone stumbled through the smoke – Lyon, Natsu realized – and fell to his knees next to them.

“You have to—please, you have to find Wendy,” Natsu begged, hands still desperately trying to stem the bleeding. Gray wasn’t moving but that wasn’t right, that couldn’t be right because Gray was alive, he was just hurt, he was bleeding but they could fix it, they could help him, they could—

“Natsu!” Lyon’s voice broke through the panic and Natsu realized he was holding up an ice barrier between them and the hatchlings that were slowly closing in on them. “We have to move!”

“No,” Natsu said, voice low and quiet as he stared down at Gray’s bloody face and still chest. “We’re not going anywhere.”

The magic Gray had given him resurfaced, speeding up his arms and pushing him into Dragon Force without him even thinking about it. Scales raced across his body as fast as the grief that filled him, and when he looked down at his arms, he realized the usual red was tinged with an icy blue.

Natsu closed his eyes, letting the comforting sensation of Gray’s magic mingle with the terrified despair that was overwhelming him. They’d fought so many battles together that it was like his own magic, familiar and safe.

Like Gray was beside him, awake and fighting and not—

Natsu shook his head, wiping at his face with the back of his hand as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Can you…” Natsu looked up at Lyon, whose expression was as heartbroken as Natsu felt. Letting go of Gray hurt, more than the wound in his side, more than the bruises that covered his body, more than any physical pain he’d felt before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing Gray’s forehead again before letting Lyon take him. Then he pushed himself slowly to his feet, holding his trembling arms at his sides as the creatures closed around them.

The fight was over before it began. Blue flames, hotter than anything Natsu had ever made before, exploded from him in searing blaze that pushed the creatures back, incinerating everything until all that surrounded them was scorched earth and ash. Dark, acrid smoke filled the air as Natsu threw his head back and screamed, the anguished sound tearing through him as another wave of fire billowed up into the air, lighting up the dark sky in a brilliant mix of red and blue.

As quickly as it appeared, the column of fire disappeared, leaving nothing but sparks that drifted around Natsu as he dropped to his knees and cried. An anguished sound ripped from his chest, tearing him apart as he struggled to breathe.

Nothing existed right now but Natsu and his grief.

[newtothewaywardparty]

The Ghost of an Idea 5

Read Stave One: Bobby’s Ghost, Part 1

Read Stave Two: Bobby’s Ghost, Part 2

Read Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirits, Part 1

Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirits, Part 2

Stave Three: The Second of the Three Spirits

The clack of hooves were the first sound to penetrate Dean’s dreamless sleep. “Huh?” he snuffled into his pillow as he canted his ear towards the motel window. The unmistakable sound of a horse blowing air through its mouth? Nose? Whatever, Dean wasn’t really a rural kind of guy, cowboy fantasies notwithstanding. Anyway, that was definitely a horse within earshot of his room. He groggily pushed himself up off his stomach and stumbled towards the window. It was still open, cigarette-scented curtains waving in the sharp December Kansas wind. Dean peered out, wiping sleep from his eyes. Yep, that was a horse all right.

A big fucking white horse stood outside his window. Atop it, resplendent in velvet green Renaissance-style gowns, sat Charlie Bradbury, her auburn hair long again and styled with a circlet crown of twisted gold. She haughtily peered down at Dean. “Hop on, Handmaiden,” she ordered, tacking a crooked smile on at the end.

Dean eyed the horse warily. Again, he was more comfortable around engines than livestock. “Uh, I don’t really…” he began weakly.

“Shut up, bitch. Atreyu can smell fear.” Charlie said, suppressing laughter. She pat the horse’s flank behind her, indicating where he should sit. She extended the hand to assist him up.

Dean was expecting an embarrassing interlude that would rack up a lot of hits on YouTube (He could picture the headline now: Dad vs. Horse, Who Would Win?) Instead, the instant Charlie’s hand touched his, he felt the same weightlessness Jo’s touch had bestowed upon him. In a blink, he was seated, comfortably if not confidently, astride the brilliant white horse. Bow-leggedness had its advantages at times.

Charlie leaned forward in the saddle. “Engage.” she whispered with a smile in Atreyu’s ear, and they were off, flying through the air back to the bunker.

Dean tried not to enjoy it but it was hard, grasping Charlie’s warm green robes, watching the countryside float past in the darkness below. He had always hated airplanes but this felt almost nice. Secure. Maybe it was just Charlie. He adjusted his grip on her waist.

“Don’t get fresh, cowboy” Charlie teased, glancing back at him enough to wink. Dean grinned. Damn. He had really missed her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” he solemnly replied. He swallowed. Stingy. The word ricocheted around inside his head, fresh from his encounter with Jo and his trip down memory lane. “I, uh, really” Dean took a breath. “Missed you, Charlie,” he finished haltingly. See? He could use his words like a grown-up.

Charlie threw a knowing look over his shoulder. “Enjoy the clip show, did ya?” Dean avoided her gaze. “Yeah, Jo can come on a little strong. You should know, though; Bobby told her to not take it too easy on you. That’s how she got chosen for that part of the mission. I wanted to do the flashback sequence but he thought I’d be too nice.” Charlie scoffed. “As if.”

She whispered a command for Atreyu to come out of Warp and they descended. “You know the drill here, right?” Dean loved that about Charlie. She never acted like he was dumb. And she was almost as allergic to chick flick moments as he was.

Dean swallowed. “Yeah. Ghost of Christmas present, right?” She nodded and they hit solid ground, Atreyu smoothly trotting to a stop in front of the bunker door.

“Ladies first,” Charlie said, indicating the door. Dean rolled his eyes and opened it. They descended the stairs together, unnoticed. The scene was exactly as Dean had left it earlier in the night. An assortment of found and recycled ornaments adorned the Christmas tree’s branches. Lights were evenly distributed throughout the branches, except for where Sam had obviously tired of detangling them. A large knot of lights clumped in the back, where Sam probably figured no one would see them. Dean bit back an affectionate smile.

Dean’s eyes were immediately drawn to Cas. He was the brightest thing in any room. His posture was unusually relaxed back in his chair, which was pushed back from the table so he could watch Jack by the tree. He had loosened his tie, and gripped a beer bottle’s neck loosely in a hand. His eyes were wide and warm, focused on Jack.

Jack was stringing popcorn with an intensity and focus Dean associated with Cas. Dean noticed the needle in use had been liberated from their medical stash, probably last used to give someone stitches. Jack’s tongue was sticking out slightly as he aimed the needle toward the center of a kernel. Dean’s chest tightened in that predictable way when he thought about the nephilim and his relationship with his chosen father.

Sam sat at the war table. He leaned back, jamming his chopsticks with finality into a take-out container, and pushed his chair back, humming in satisfaction. Dean peered into the white box with Chinese characters on it, frowning at the veggie tofu dish inside. “Typical” Dean muttered, under his breath. Charlie elbowed him.

Cas took this as his cue, and pushed his chair back. He cleared his throat, looking at Jack, who dropped his craft project. “I’d like to propose a toast,” began Cas formally. Dean couldn’t help smiling. What a dork, he thought. He could practically hear the air quotes.

Sam looked surprised, then amused. He picked up his own beer bottle and waited for Cas to continue. Cas looked at Jack and raised an eyebrow, waiting. A few seconds ticked by before Jack picked up his own beer bottle, looking sideways at Sam to copy him. Dean was grinning now. That was just fucking adorable. Not like when Jack was trying to learn by imitating Dean. His grin slipped a little at the memory of how hard he had pushed Jack away at first.

Cas nodded, satisfied now that all members of their little party were participating in this social ritual. “To Dean,” Cas began. Dean’s mouth fell open in shock. Cas was still talking. “Even though he wasn’t able to be here tonight, he’s in our hearts. Always.” Cas raised his bottle a bit at this and made to drink when Sam interjected loudly:

“In our hearts?!” Sam’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline. “I wish he was here right now. I’d serve him a piece of my mind.” Sam scoffed. “Shit, I’d shove it down his throat.”

“Sam!” Cas said in a warning tone, cutting his eyes at Jack who was watching, nervous and confused. “It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah, yeah.” said Sam, running his fingers through his hair in a familiar gesture of frustration. “Just another Winchester holiday to remember; drinking a toast to a cowardly, weak man who ran out on his family.” He was as angry as Dean had ever seen him, lips pursed, pacing up and down in front of the tree, clenching his beer bottle tightly.

Cas put out a placating hand and repeated: “Sam. Christmas.” in a gentle voice.

Sam raked his hair back from his face, stopping his route in front of Jack. “I’ll drink to Dean for your sake and for Jack’s” said Sam, indicating them both with his beer bottle, “but not for his. A very Merry Christmas, big bro, wherever you slunk off to.”

Sam tipped his bottle up and Jack and Cas followed his lead, subdued. Dean’s face burned. How could Cas defend him like that? Why would Cas bother toasting Dean at all, like he was a worthy man, in the face of all evidence pointing to the contrary? He felt a flood of affection for his friend.

Dean felt Charlie’s elbow jostle his side again. “Aw. That was cute.” Charlie’s words held real affection. Dean gazed at Cas, who in turn was beaming at Jack, hanging up grody old socks for Santa. “You’re in his heart!” she practically squee-d, smacking his arm. Dean blushed furiously and looked away.

The truth was, Cas deserved better. He always had, and recent events did nothing to convince Dean otherwise. Why wouldn’t Cas get the hint and move on? Maybe he just needed time. Time away from Dean. Time to listen to Sam’s fairly accurate assessment of Dean’s strength and courage when it came to emotional intimacy.

But what if he didn’t move on? “What will happen to Cas?” Dean asked Charlie suddenly. Now that the worry had entered his head, he found it impossible to forget. Dean could always run; he had the Impala, he had hunting, he had alcohol and one-night stands and long- and short-cons and violence. He had Sam. In short, Dean had a lifetime of experience with unhealthy coping mechanisms for heartbreak and loss. Cas had no such practice.

Charlie just gave him a look of pity and understanding. “C’mon” she urged, dragging him up the stairs. Dean gave one last look at the trio around the tree, now exchanging presents wrapped in old magazine paper. He caught a flash of Cas’ teeth as he smiled broadly at the assorted-flavored Osage honey sticks Jack had bought him at a convenience store in the Ozarks. The metal door of the bunker clanged, cutting off the beautiful sight of that smile.

With a snort and a whoosh, Atreyu bore them aloft and they landed in a field outside the bunker. Charlie dismounted with an imperious air. She strode away from Dean a few paces. “I want to show you something” she said, grimly.

She whisked her green velvet skirts out of the way to reveal two tiny figures huddled by her legs. One was a person of extremely advanced age: emaciated skin dotted with skin sores, balding head peppered with white stringy hair, mouth puckered with toothless gums, hands tipped with claw-like yellowed nails, eyes cloudy with cataracts. “This is loneliness” Charlie intoned.

The other was an emaciated young teen, bright red scars lining their arms and legs. Their eyes were red with tears and their hair was greasy and unwashed. They were curled in on themselves, clutching their stomach and rocking themselves. “And this is self-loathing” Charlie said carefully, piercing Dean with a knowing gaze.

Dean moved on instinct. He rushed forward to help, but Charlie halted him with a ghostly strong hand. “Can’t you save them?” he shouted at her angrily.

“Dean,” Charlie began in a mockingly cheerful tone sharper than any Dean had ever heard her use in life, “Better for them to be alone, to be the ones pushing others away, right?” Dean grit his teeth. He had never said those words aloud, had only thought them to himself every time he wanted to gather Cas in his arms.

Her face softened and she said “I know you like to pretend to be functionally illiterate but even you’ve heard the Tennyson quote. ‘Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.’”

Dean snorted in derision. “Yeah, that’s pretty much the opposite of my life motto.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Again, Charlie threw his words back at him. “Why do you think I’m doing this for Bobby? We’re trying to get through to you, bitch.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, re-covering the shrunken nightmare figures below her skirts.

Dean retorted ‘I’m as free as a bird, now, and this bird you cannot change.” He crossed his arms across his chest with a defiance he did not feel.

Charlie’s look was pure pity. “Did you really just quote ‘Free Bird?’ What’s next? You going to tell me how when it’s time for leaving you hope I’ll understand that you were born a ramblin’ man?” She stage-whispered, “Do you ever think learning about love and relationships exclusively from your grief-addled father and classic rock lyrics might not have given you the healthiest outlook?”

Dean meant to sigh dramatically, to cast his eyes skyward, to give a witty retort, preferably with a nerdy pop-culture reference. Instead, he found himself reaching forward to pull Charlie into a hug. To press his lips into her red hair, to tell her just how much she meant to him. Just as his arms extended, she abruptly disappeared. A glance behind him showed Atreyu was toast, too. And now he was choked up with the loss of her.

He saw the glint of light off metal across the field had Dean prepared to flee. As the figure drew closer, Dean relaxed, if only minutely. It was a woman with a glorious crown of black curls, perfectly painted red lips lips, and a leather jacket Dean could find himself coveting. It was Billie. Death.

Read Stave Four: The Last of the Three Spirits

[beanjuice-duh]

Happy Friggin Borthday, Cheeseball

a/n: Everyone has nice drawings and art of Thomas. All I came up with is a crappy birthday party that ends semi-terrible for him. Oneshot/Drabble Summary: Thomas’s is taken back by a surprise party that leaves him wishing he wasn’t born Warning: hints of social anxiety, troubled childhood, unhealthy coping mechanisms, anxious ticks (raw draft/uneditted) Taggies: @hell-yes-puns-and-ships w/c:2811

Happy Birthday Thomas! 

Screamed the google banner as Thomas licked open his web browser. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, the words were almost ironic. His eyes rigidly scrolled down to the date at the corner of his computer. Indeed, it was April 13th, his birthday. The idea of it all sent sickening shivers down his spine. Quickly he slammed his laptop shut foregoing any and all work he had planned to do. Slowly he ran his hand through his fro, pushing back his springy curls only to have them bounce back to their original mane like frame around his face. His birthday, he pressed the top row of his teeth against his plush upper lip as he carefully pressed the home button on his latest Apple Iphone.

He had a flood of notifications. Facebook, twitter, all the social media he kept were all going off to the point he was sure his phone was overheating just by sheer amount. Social media did well for Thomas, a man who had popularity and money with none of the tolerance to handle people. Most of the time he could handle a small group of people at once, more comfortably if flanked by his closest cohorts. Naturally he was a skittish and quiet man, looks aside, he did not mirror the man he was trying to be. Through the third person vehicle of social media, keeping up appearances was as easy as uploading a charming picture of his biceps, or a status about how drab the exclusive club was that night, even the flirtations comment back and forth.

Slowly, he thumbed through what easily was thousands of surface deep compliments and well wishes. After searching through social media, voicemails and texts his frown deepened. Not a single one from them. He angrily flipped his phone over and glared, staring at library wall when the chair beside him screeched. His eyes darted to the sound, his body hunching away from the person…”Oh, it's you.” Thomas didn’t take back recoil. “What do you want, Aaron.”

Aaron Burr, a man who was eager to join into Jefferson’s exclusive world. Jefferson on the college campus was part of an elitist club that valued academics and active members of the socialite lifestyle. Aaron was on the list to join. He had everything going for him, good grades and an impressive background. What he lacked? Personality in Jefferson’s main opinion, in another he lacked a certain...thing. “I heard it was your birthday” Immediately Jefferson was cringing, he didn’t need reminding. “I got you this.” He smiled handing a coupon. Jefferson looked it over and his eyes might have inched less away from it's harden stare to a touch softer. “Discount to Mix-n-Mac” he might have the chance and the money to indulge in the fancier line of cuisine but mac’n’cheese held a special place in his heart. This line of mac was among his favorite. “Thanks, Burr.” Thomas tucked the discounted coupon away.

“No problem, figured today was a special day for you, big man.” He nudged Thomas’s arm. “Any special plans?” “Nope.” Thomas kept it short and polite, slowly opening his computer back up.

“No?” Aaron sounded surprise, like most would have. “Not even with Sally?” “Not even with Sally.” Though some coital hanky-panky with his side piece might have been nice...even on his birthday he had trouble finding the libido for that. Personally he rather have the day go as quietly and calmly as possible. “I tend not to do much on my birthday.”

“But--” Aaron tried to interject and that’s when Thomas lost all his politeness. Thomas started packing up and looked around the library. “Sorry Burr, I’m just too busy.” And with that little white lie aside, Thomas made his escape. His birthday only came with bad memories. Still he glanced at his phone again, more notifications, none from anyone he wanted to hear from. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It was the same every year. The day went on with Thomas half assing many of the thank yous and embellishing what he wanted to do. Hinting at going out and drinking though nothing specific. No one could invite themselves that way, not like there was nothing to be invited to. These were all made up, Thomas had no intention on celebrating tonight. Though he would most likely post some typical hung over status in the morning to make it sound like he had a wild, college night out.

Instead he looked forward to a quiet night in his dorm room hopefully without his roommate. Thomas’s roommate almost made him want to go out and celebrate. He hated just the look of that weasley, wispy haired man. Someone who turned HIM down when he offered the club to him. A frat club that would have propelled his sorry, poor ass and he was told he had better things to do. Later to realize they were bunk mates after his friend James had failed to enlist in rooms before the deadline.

It was a Friday night, so he was a little surprised to find many cars were still in the parking lot. More troubling that the hallways along his floor were empty. It was like a ghost town inside. He walked to his dorm room and slowly opened the door, it was pitch black. “Thank God.” He sighed to himself, Hamilton must have been out with friends. The loser actually had friends… In that second he closed the door behind him and flicked on the lights he was met by the worse kind of surprise. “SURPRISE” 

Screamed what felt like millions of people. It was though Thomas’s friend list had poured into his small two bedroom dorm apartment. The people were yelling and flashes were going off capturing Thomas’s less surprised more infuriated face. He tried to plaster a smile on as Sally, the girl he had casually been hooking up with looped her arm around his. “What’s going on…” he seethed between densely clamped teeth. “Isn’t it sweet? Aaron and I did it ourselves.” She beamed and suddenly Thomas was mentally shredding not only Burr’s invitation to join the club but his very existence. “Let’s go, you have so many gifts, so many people want say happy birthday.” Sally near dragged him through the crowd. Thomas looked around, the room felt like it was spinning. The amount of people densely packed in his dorm, some smoking, some drinking booze they had brought, others standing around wasting their breath only added to the heat.

He struggled to keep eye contact, he managed a few muddled hellos and thanks. He nodded towards gifts, people beamed and joked and all he could do was smile. Keeping his lips closed for the nausea began to rise. The door opened again.

“What the fuck Jefferson!” Hamilton had been out studying when he came back to what felt like a frat house party in his dorm. Already red cups littered his floor and his bedroom was surrounded by couples going at it. Hamilton, unlike Thomas, took a calming breath realizing he couldn’t curse out Thomas over the noise. His approach would be a little more subtle. Unlike Thomas, Hamilton might have been a poor scholarship student constantly fighting with FASFA to keep his head afloat, was able to blend. Alexander lit up the room. He shot a few words here and there, witty jokes, flirtatious compliments. People actually wished he’d stay in the conversation but he was a man on a mission. Well, he was a man on an assassination. He eyed Thomas, his tall and muscular figure being led on hilariously by his tiny woman of the night. He weaved through the people and once he got close enough to grabbed Thomas’s free arm and beamed at Sally, a blush warmed her cheeks. “Sorry, mind if I borrow the man of the hour?” He quickly grabbed Thomas and shoved him into the bathroom which now had a very potent smell of sex and vomit. “Jesus.” Hamilton slammed the door and flicked on the bathroom vent fan. “What the actual fuck Thomas?” Alexander began, “you think you can throw yourself a fucking party in OUR dorm?! I have a final in two weeks…” Thomas stopped listening to Alexander’s voice. A part of him was actually grateful Alexander had pulled him away. Now he was away from faces he needed to keep that careless, rich boy facade. Even if it was Alexander here, he didn’t care enough about him to pretend. His large hands grasped the smooth, porcelain edge of the sink and he bent his head over. “JEFFERSON ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING” Alex had been complaining the entire time, hands flailing to emphasize his point but Thomas had drowned nearly all of it out. “Thomas…” Alexander watched as his back trembled. “Are you going to…” He heard a dry gag and fell silent. Was he? A second dry gag followed violent heaving and suddenly Alexander was concerned. “...I can’t…” Thomas groaned, his head was aching. It felt like his brain was beating against his skull and every inch of his head was vibrating.

Hamilton might have hated having him as a roommate but he didn’t...hate the guy. He had some empathy in his voice as he sarcastically shot back, “what can’t handle your moonshine, Southern boy?”

More heaving came, and it was clear to Alexander it wasn’t involuntary. He was doing it on purpose. Before he could ask Thomas what was really going on Thomas managed to whine again in a softer voice, “...I can’t do this right now.” “Do what?” Alex looked around. “People...party...so many…” He fought back hot tears from how hard he was forcing the air up his throat. Suddenly the tall man’s knees gave out and he sank to the ground, his hands still clutching the sink. His body shaking violently. The tears trickling down his face sent Alex into a confused tizzy. “...ok...uh…” The party was the problem? Well getting everyone out wouldn’t be a problem. “Do you want me to call anyone?” He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Thomas alone. He got no answer now. Thomas hung his head, his curls fall over his face and he was nothing but a black curled mane, a shrinking form under the sink. Alexander took one long look at Thomas and closed the door after him.

Birthdays were never his thing.

He remembered every birthday he had. He remembered how poorly each and every one of those birthdays went. A dismal display of wealth for his family’s benefit. While Thomas was forced to the forefront, around people he never knew, forced to speak and constantly under intense scrutiny. If he said the wrong thing, stuttered, stammered, did anything to look less like a strong and proud Jefferson boy he was met with instant lashing and public displays of physical correction. All the while his innocent pleas for a simple birthday, one where he could be gifted something he wanted went unheard by his family. This birthday wasn’t his. It was just another day for the Jefferson’s to flaunt their power and wealth. Thomas started to feel another heave ripple out of him. He felt the heat of his body working to force some invisible lump in his throat out and his brain melting down overpower him. With a hard twist, he forced half his body into the white tub and retched the cold water knob open. He dunked his head into the cold water and held his breath letting it all wash over him.

For a moment, he felt a calm come over him. All that mattered was the icy sting of incredibly cold water wash over his face. He focused on his other senses, he could hear the music stop. The obnoxious bass was gone thank god. The door opened and closed. “Thomas” A voice so soft that it was practically drowned under the water that was pouring down on Thomas’s head. He felt two large hands pull his shoulders up and out of the water and suddenly Thomas coughed. He gasped, and sputtered realizing he had been holding his breath for so long it pained him to inhale. “Thomas what are you doing? Why is half the people on your friend’s list outside talking to Hamilton?” James Madison gently released him in favor to turn off the water. “A-Aaron ….sur-surprised me.” He hissed, teeth chattering from the cold water. His head started to slowly throb again. James glared a bit at the door, he would have a talk to Aaron. “You should have called me.” He turned around giving Thomas his back as he started to rummage through the shared items of the bathroom.

The taller man could hear the sharpness in James’s voice. “S-Sally, everyone, they were around me and…” He suddenly felt a towel flop on his head. His world went black as James started to dry Thomas’s hair.

“Thomas.” James spoke soft but curtly, his voice slightly rough from the fact he had been ill for a few days now. “You could have told them, no--”

“What Jefferson turns down a party?” He grabbed James’s hands and stopped him from massaging the water out of his hair. He looked up at James with wet eyes. “I’m me, Jemmy, I can’t say no. I’ve never been able to say no. Last time …”

“I know…” James was there. That birthday party, Thomas was fourteen. He had saved up birthday money for years so he could buy himself a gift he wanted. He bought himself a violin and practiced every night one song and one song alone until he was proud. On the day of his annual birthday celebration at the country club, Thomas had built up the nerve to play, the shy, timid Jefferson son who never seemed to shine like the rest of his family was now in the spotlight. He began to play in front of the family friends, the Madison family included, when Thomas’s father ripped his instrument from his hand. Publicly humiliated him and his craft before tossing the violin into the trash. Birthdays weren’t days of celebration for Thomas, it was time to show off and prance. Now that he was no longer in Virginia to be paraded around he hadn’t received a single message from his siblings or mother.

“You’re not fourteen anymore Thomas, this is your choice. You don’t have to be anyone’s shiny thing anymore.” James spoke softly, taking his hands back and started ringing his curls until most were just slightly damp. Once he was done he stood up and held out his hand for Thomas. Thomas’s eyes looked guarded, he didn’t want to leave the safety of the bathroom, he was nowhere near stable to join the masses. Madison nodded in understanding and slowly went back to Thomas and sank down beside him. The shorter college student slowly brought his head to Thomas’s shoulder and sighed.

Having his best friend beside him always seemed to bring a courage out of Thomas. Madison was incredibly intelligent, equally as wealthy but he was meek in appearance. From the moment they met, Thomas had an overwhelming need to protect Madison.Over the course of their friendship it was clear which one of them truly needing protection. James had been there, standing there, giving Thomas that sense of security. After a childhood of constantly being redirected this Jefferson felt lost in a sea of empty wealth and titles. Jemmy kept him grounded.

Thomas’s hand gently crawled over James and laid there. In that moment James smiled a bit and nodded. “Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques, dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?” James sung lowly, the same little song Thomas had tried to play on that awful birthday years ago. He felt a smile tug on his lips, even during that awful birthday James was there. He closed his eyes and felt everything ebb away. The aches, the heat. He focused every bit his energy on James’s voice, his breathing, the periodic squeeze of his hand. After a few minutes the bathroom door opened and Alexander leaned against the door-frame. “I got everyone out, told them you had a stomach bug and they empathetically left all your gift and booze.”

“Thank you again, Hamilton for telling me...about this.” James motioned to Thomas with his head.

“I figured when you didn’t show up that Burr must have not told you since you’ve been...sick…” Alexander shrugged a bit, “whatever, I’m taking a bottle as collateral.” He turned with a bottle of some expensive booze when Thomas croaked. “Thanks, Hamilton” He closed his eyes and rested his head on top of James’s. He gave James a small squeeze as he finally relaxed.

Alexander checked his watch, “a few minutes until midnight, consider this my birthday gift to you.” He smirked and closed the door as he spoke. “Happy fuckin’ birthday Thomas”