#and then the few important ones do get to stay

[81pastrys]

Timing Mishap

Summary— Lando allows an unplanned sleepover with his current girlfriend but forgot one important detail: it’s his weekend with Lexie

Warnings— sex joke (not around Lexie)

A/N— I’ve been strangled by school stuff, apologies for going MIA

Dad Lando List

Request— could you do a fic where the drivers forget to pick up their daughter from a previous relationship because their current girlfriend wants them to spend time with them? whatever ending is up to you

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

The mid-day breeze felt nice, the balcony overlooking the Monaco shoreline of yachts and expensive looking people. Lando’s current girlfriend had begged to stay the night in which he agreed, only to realize late afternoon that it was his weekend with Lexie.

“Shit.” He muttered. His girlfriend, who was comfortably sitting on his lap, was startled at his sudden curse. He rushed to get up and grab his phone. As expected: missed calls, texts, even voicemails.

“What’s wrong lan?” His girlfriend inquired, confused. She knew about Lexie, but hadn’t the faintest clue of the schedule him and his ex had agreed upon.

“It’s my weekend with Lex, I’m sorry I completely forgot when you had asked to stay.” He rambled, now putting more clothes on as to go and get his little girl. “You can stay another weekend, I promise.” He said with a kiss before rushing out the door.

She knew she couldn’t be around Lexie unless they were to get married or more serious, so she grabbed her things and left not too long after he did. She wasn’t particularly mad, but she wanted to spend more time with him.

Lando broke a few road laws on his way to his exes house. He called her and she didn’t answer so he texted her in hopes she knew to expect him. When he arrived and knocked on the door he had to wait a while, punishment he supposes.

The door opened and his toddler came running to him while her mum stood to the side. “Daddy!!” She squealed in delight. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he picked her up from there.

“Hey my girl!” He said after returning the affectionate squeeze. “I’m sorry I’m late I slept too much.” He added, knowing how excited she would get to stay with him. “How about to make it up we get your favorite treat?”

“Ice cream!” She said with a giggle. Lando confirmed they could get ice cream and prepared for the scolding his ex was about to give while Lexie gathered her things.

“This is the second time you’re late.” She said monotoned. “You’re never late, maybe on time- but never late.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“I’m really sorry, I let my dick think before my brain.” He joked. Well not really a joke but she knew that, they had a kid for crying out loud. “I’ll keep on top of it now, I’m sorry I kept you waiting..again.”

“You’re lucky she has your last name.” His ex scoffed. The little girl came back with a small book bag and a stuffie cuddled to her chest. “Alright, be good for daddy okay? I love you lots!” Lexie hugged her mum before grabbing Lando’s hand and he whisked her to the car.

He took immediately to his promise and drove to her favorite ice cream shop. He noticed she looked a bit glum in the car seat and frowned. “What’s wrong my baby?” He asked.

“I thought daddy forgot about me.” She mumbled. Lando felt a pang of guilt, he had chosen someone else over his little girl. Not once, but twice.

“I can never forget you baby, daddy accidentally slept too late.” He carried the lie, not wanting to further upset her. “Tell you what, we’ll get ice cream, then we can watch a movie and cuddle to sleep.” He knew that was her favorite. They usually only slept in the same bed during race weekends but she secretly loved it.

“I sleep in daddy’s bed?” She asked cautious but excited. He nodded with a smile and she brightened up. He got them ice cream and they ate it while giggling over nothing. They went to Lando’s and his girlfriend left a note, short and sweet.

Grabbed my things, hope you make the weekend special for your little girl -xo

“Alright, what movie should we watch?” He asked. Lexie yawned and Lando realized they would never make it out awake on the couch this late while watching a movie. “How about bath time and movie in bed?” He asked softly at her level. She nodded with a small smile.

After her bath, Lando brushed her hair and she put on pajamas. Lando putting his on in his closet when she crawled in bed. He put on a princess movie of her liking and she got cuddled into his side under the covers. He kissed her head.

“Goodnight my baby, I love you lots.” He whispered in her hair. They fell asleep not long after the movie had started.

Little bit of Lexie for you all 🙂‍↕️

@il0vereadingstuff @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @justaf1girl @kallanfiona @angelluv16 @chertik-007vvv

[moonlight-prose]

SIN TI

a/n: years ago when the falcon and the winter soldier came out, i wrote a one shot that has solidified itself as one of my favorite fic i've written. it's a friends to lovers arc and while i wanted to end it there. i couldn't stop myself from giving them another chapter to their love story. so i hope y'all enjoy. there's plenty more torres fics to come. also a massive thank you to my favorite person @soulores who bounced ideas off me and helped me with some of the spanish (i'm learning to fix up my fluency i promise).

note: this fic in my head is a latine reader, but there's no specifications/descriptions so imagine who you wish!

summary: five years have passed. five years since he boarded a plane and left you behind to wait diligently for the man who would never return. when letters and patchy phone calls failed to keep the spark of your relationship alive, you find each other again. only this time as two entirely different people.

word count: 11.2k+

pairing: joaquín torres x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, epistolary beginning, angst, broken hearts, long distance relationships, epistolary style at first, romance, friends to lovers, arguments, passionate declarations of love, fingering, p in v sex, alcohol consumption, biting, cumplay, rough sex, desperation, yearning + pining, he's got a filthy fucking mouth, more angst, the grief of failed love, second chance romance, forever.

SIEMPRE

December 5, 2023

Mi amor,

It’s hard to believe you left only a few weeks ago and somehow I miss you more than I could say in words. If it were possible I’d have sent a longer letter than this. I’d tell you how I miss our mornings spent hunting for coffee, our nights wandering the streets. I’d tell you I miss your lips. But that seems cliché given the circumstances.

I wanted you to stay. And yet…I know how important it was that you go. You need this. You need to figure out where you exist in this world after living in it alone for five years. So I hope you discover what’s always been meant to find you. And when you do, please know that I’ll be here waiting for you.

Back where it all began.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

January 8, 2024

Mi corazón,

God I miss your voice, your handwriting, your fucking smile. I miss every part of you. If I told you what I’ve actually been thinking of you’d probably never forgive me for putting it down somewhere in permanent ink. No te culpo. I wish I had better news, or at least some stories to give you, but they’re kicking my ass even before my eyes open. Bright and early at dawn until my whole body is screaming.

I don’t want you to worry mi vida. Please don’t worry. I’m doing okay. I’m alive at least. Gracias a dios. Well I wouldn’t exactly say no to a candle being lit in my name (maybe to help with the constant wake up calls of how you felt that night). Tell Clara and Michael I miss them. Give mi mamá a kiss and drop some flowers off for pops. But most importantly do me a favor.

Wear them for me yeah corazón? They’re my “lost” pair (got reamed out for “losing” my first fucking pair of dog tags but it was worth it to give you a piece of me.) Keep ‘em on. And know that I’ll be fighting like hell to get my way back to you. Back to our spot, back to morning coffee runs and night walks in the city.

They’re yours. Just like I am.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

January 16, 2024

Mi amor,

Thank you baby for the tags. I cried when I felt your name engraved in the metal. Just the feel of the letters reminded me of the way you’d draw on my papers in high school. They were so bad, but I think I still have a few of them in the back of my closet. Somehow that feels like a lifetime ago. I can tell you that I miss you—that’s true—but it’s not entirely the full truth. I never got a first date, rarely got a chance to see your eyes open when we woke up together, or drink shitty beer on the roof of my apartment.

I wish I could say that it doesn’t hurt to wait for you, but that would be a lie. And I can hear you in the back of my head saying: eres mentirosa bebita. And it makes me laugh.

This letter will probably find its way to you near Valentine’s Day. And I can’t have my brave pilot missing the fun. Don’t show anyone. Keep it in your wallet, and enjoy the late nights mi vida (pretend I’m there with my mouth to keep you company, or my hands, or my pussy).

We’ll find ourselves back in that queen sized bed soon enough—that I’m sure of. I will have to take a week off work just to get my fill of you; although even I have to admit that’ll take a long fucking time.

You and I both know I’ll never have enough.

I’ll be thinking of you, as I always do. Especially in our bed. Come home soon mi amor and I’ll be here when you finally do.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

February 16, 2024

Happy Valentine’s Day mi corazón.

You’ve got no idea what those Polaroids did to me. I think I touched myself fucking raw (or at least that’s what it feels like). I’ve got half a mind to frame them, proudly display my girl. But I know you might actually murder me, so I’ve got them where you asked—safe in my wallet. I’ve been thinking about you. Okay let me be honest. I always think about you. Seriously you fucked up my brain bebita before I left. Had me wrapped around your finger long before that night, but after…I’m going crazy without you.

Dios mío, yo también te extraño (probably more given how winded I get just thinking about you). And I wish I could say that I’ll be home eventually, but I don’t know. I wish I did. You’ve got no idea how much I wish I could find my way back to you. The air force is…it’s harder than I thought. Nothing I can’t handle.

Until then imagine me finally taking you out on that date. In fact plan it. Figure out where you wanna go, pick out an outfit that’ll drive me batshit, and I’ll be there. On that dance floor to finally finish what we started. Te amo mi corazón. More than you know.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

February 20, 2024

Mi amor,

The thought of you has driven me insane. I actually sprayed your cologne on the pillow you slept on the last few days we were together, just to remind myself of what you smelled like. I also may have rode it. But that didn’t matter. It did nothing but make me ache. Te extraño mucho Joaquin.

I don’t know what to do with myself but go to work and wait for you to come home. But I’ve done what you said—I planned our date. Dinner at our favorite place, a night of drinks at Siempre, and dessert at the small ice cream parlor on the corner.

I want to believe you when you said you could handle the airforce, and I do, but something isn’t right. Por qué mientes mi amor? You forget, I know every piece of you. I know when you’re upset. I know when you are struggling and don’t want to say it, because you think you can bear the heaviness of the world. Even when you were younger you thought you could carry the weight of everyone’s troubles on your shoulders, but you don’t have to. I’m here. I’ll carry it with you.

You can tell me what’s wrong and I’ll promise to listen, to make it better however I can. What’s our love meant to be if not carrying one another through the harsh times of life?

Tell me everything amor. I’ll listen. I’ll save you this time around.

Have they told you when you’ll be able to visit? I know it’s only been a few months, but I just always wonder. If they haven’t I understand—I just miss you. But you know this. I won’t fill up this letter with misery, because you deserve more than that. Your mamá and I have dinner on Sunday’s now (she’s teaching me how to cook so I’ll promise to make a good meal for you).

Clara and Michael are together at last! And they’re worse than us in terms of PDA. I seriously wish you were here just to help me one up them. Give them a show. But that can wait. All of it can wait. As long as I know you’re coming home to me.

Please take care of yourself mi amor. Stay safe and I’ll be here making my apartment a home for the both of us.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

March 30, 2024

Mi amor,

I hope my last letter didn’t get lost on the way to you. I’ve heard it could happen. But I’m getting worried with this constant silence. Estas bien? Are they treating you okay? Is the base nice? I just need something to know you’re okay baby. Send a letter, find a way to call me, but don’t leave me with nothing.

I’m not the only one worried and you know it.

I hope you’re safe.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

May 18, 2024

Mi corazón,

I don’t know how to start this. I should have answered you earlier. Or sent something in return to your Valentine’s gift. Or shit I should have at least fought tooth and nail for a visitation day to come see you, but that’s no longer possible mi corazón. I’m being transferred to a base further away and I’m not sure when I’ll make it back. I don’t even know if they plan on giving me an idea on what’s going to happen with me, but that’s why I had to tell you.

Lo siento bebita. I’m…I’m just sorry. I love you, I always have and always will. But I can’t force you to wait for me forever. That’s not fair to you. And you deserve better than a man who could never gather the fucking nerve to tell you the truth. Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

I’m sorry.

I will always love you.

Forever.

- Joaquín

June 1, 2024

Fuck you Joaquín Torres. You don’t get to rip my heart out that way. You don’t get to end this without looking me in the eyes. Why? Why would you make me fall in love with you if you knew this would end? Why would you promise me forever when you never meant it to begin with? Tell me. Write a fucking letter and answer me!

I deserve the truth. All of it.

I know you are struggling and won’t tell me. I know you’re fighting for your life to keep up with the demands of the airforce and like to pretend you’re fine. But you’re not fine baby. You can’t lie to me and pretend nothing’s wrong. You just…you can’t do that to me. Please. Let me in amor, let me help.

I love you Joaquín.

I need you.

-Tu corazón

FIVE YEARS LATER

The coffee tasted much more bitter than what you remembered. A biting darkness that burned the back of your throat as you gulped down what you could in the fifteen minutes you had for lunch. Whatever food you packed sat forgotten about in your fridge. Another day rushing to the office, another day wandering the streets of a city you could paint with your eyes closed.

A piece of you echoed with the voices of all who came before you. Friends you made, found family that adopted you as their own. Streets overflowing with scents of arroz con pollo and Jamaica flowers boiling away in kitchens—open windows begging for some fresh air.

July scorched the streets with heat you learned to endure. Yet this year felt worse. A curse bestowed upon the people of New York without rhyme or reason.

You pressed a piece of ice to your neck, dabbing at the sweat sliding down your chest. In the hopes you might find some relief from this torture you were forced to endure. Working in an office that barely payed you enough for the rent of your apartment and was far too cheap to put money towards a working air conditioner. You calculated the numbers for them. They could afford it.

“Fuck the heat,” you moaned, wincing with the heat of your coffee.

“That skirt’s sexy mami.”

The sound of her voice was unmistakable. A soft drawled accent of someone who spent her days speaking Spanish more than she did English. You rolled your eyes, digging out another ice cube from what remained in your plastic cup—dropping it in between your breasts with a hiss.

“Tell me why we’re out here?” you asked, shifting as the ice slid lower, finding a spot beneath your breast.

She dropped onto the bench, yanking off a black blazer that looked like hell to be wearing. “Because if I have to spend another day in a court house I’m going to blow my brains out.”

“You work in a court house Clara.”

“Callate. Don’t fucking remind me.”

Her ebony curls were gathered at the top of her head, pinned in place with a familiar teal butterfly clip you lent her a year prior. At this point asking for it back felt irrelevant. She looked better with it than you ever did—never quite learning how to pin it effortlessly like her.

“We’re going out tonight,” she announced between swipes of lipstick, fixing makeup that was primed to perfection.

With a sigh you dug for another ice cube. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” Her compact clicked shut. “I rarely see you anymore. Plus Michael got the night off so he’s joining us.”

“And where exactly are you dragging me?”

“Dancing.”

You groaned, sinking into the bench far enough to be drowned by the floor. Swallowed whole into the center of Earth—an escape from being whatever you forced yourself to pretend. An adult with a clear path, someone moved on from a heartbreak that ripped you to pieces, someone whole. Yet asking for that felt as if you were signing a life altering contract with gods who weren’t listening to your cries of anguish.

Clara knew you were suffering—she could see the exhaustion on your face—but her specialty was never empathetic talks. She spoke with actions. Loud, boisterous, displays of affection. Like dragging you around town when all you were concerned about was getting home to feed your cat.

“I don’t-”

“Think so,” she mimicked, clicking her tongue. “Ay Dios how many times are you gonna use that fucking excuse?”

“What excuse?” you exclaimed, fixing her with a glare she brushed off with a sigh.

“You need to resurrect yourself. I know you don’t want to talk about him—and I won’t—but you deserve to move on. He became a superhero-”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“Then why aren’t you letting yourself finally meet a future where you get to thrive?”

She was right. You knew every word out of her mouth echoed with enough truth to stab you in the chest. Five years passed before your very eyes and you barely gave yourself a chance to breathe. He’d been your best friend, your partner in crime all these years, and to live a life without him in it felt like a betrayal. Only you weren’t the one to issue the blade, you weren’t the one to open a wound so large it took everything in you not to bleed before her now.

The trail of red followed you on the bleak path ahead. A future without love, a life half lived.

He existed in the world as a hero—a monolithic piece of history the world clamored for. You were merely a mark on a past he might never mention, a brief lapse of youthful hope diminished by powers you held no control over.

What good was it to forget yourself? He certainly didn’t miss you; he barely even thought of you. Yet somewhere along the way you gave him every ounce of strength you should have reserved for yourself.

With a sigh you tossed the empty cup into the trash beside you. “Fine.”

She laughed with a glee that helped break through your melancholy stupor. “Let’s go mami!”

“Where are we going?” And with one word she sealed your fate.

“Siempre.”

The heels were a bad idea, the short silk mini dress was a bad idea, the whole night reeked with poor decisions you should have caught a mile away. Clara shoved you into a green dress yanked from the back of her closet—a forgotten gift she claimed. Only to leave you alone at the bar, her golden yellow nails burrowed into Michael’s arm to drag him deep into a mass of people you tried to avoid.

Your mezcal was tepid, a rim of lipstick decorating the edge of the glass covered in your fingerprints. The music blared loud enough to leave a high pitched ringing in your left ear—a thumping bass causing the floor to tremble with each new song.

You had half a mind to leave, already a sweaty mess just standing listlessly by the bar in a meager attempt at the fun you once had. The same joy that happened right in this very club. But tonight felt different—an energy you couldn’t name that stuck to your tight chest.

“One more,” you called over the music, tapping your glass with a nail coated in chipped polish.

“I’ll get hers.”

You stiffened, his voice washing over you like a bucket of ice dumped atop your head. For a brief moment you wondered if it finally happened, if you reached the point of hearing him when he was nowhere to be found. A dreadful hope that lingered in your chest—a dream you couldn’t speak aloud for fear of driving yourself mad. Until he filled your peripheral, a familiar leather coat you would recognize a mile away and dark hair now cropped and cut short enough to alarm you.

“Mi corazon,” he murmured, leaning close enough to invade your senses with his cologne.

The bottle he left with you still sat on your dresser. Coated in five years of dust, untouched and frozen in a time you would give anything to go back to. Your teeth clamped onto the inside of your cheek hard enough to spill copper across your tongue—a disgusting mixture with the tequila you downed moments prior.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you croaked, barely able to look at him.

“I got home last week.”

“Good for you.” The words were biting, harsh enough to make him wince. Satisfaction flooded your veins.

“Clara invited me,” he admitted, stuffing his hands into his pockets—another song blasting off speakers you wished to break. “I thought…she didn’t tell you did she?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed, ducking his head to stare at his warm mezcal, a withered lime precariously placed on the rim. “I wanted to see you corazón.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped.

Music rang in your ears, a deafening echo that suffocated you beneath the weight of all you couldn’t carry. He fell silent, waiting for an indication that you wanted him there. But none ever came. The irony tasted bitter at the back of your mouth—five years later and still you walked a tightrope he promised to keep upright.

He offered you forever. You just never realized how quickly he could take it all back.

The alcohol stirred in your stomach, bile clawing up the back of your throat and suddenly Joaquín showing up out of the blue wasn’t your only problem. You couldn’t be there. You didn’t know how to stand beside him, feel the heat of his body packed in with everyone else—shame digging its talons into your skin with a malice you probably deserved. Neither of you fought for the love to last.

He didn’t fight for you.

“I came to talk to you-”

“I can’t do this,” you rasped, pushing off the bar before he could finish his half formed pathetic excuse.

“Wait.”

A hand curled into the satin fabric along your back—your quick movements pulling him into the fray. You itched to twist away, remove any trace of his touch that begged to seep into sticky skin and taint the sporadic beating of your heart.

The wall of people stopped you in your tracks, their bodies moving with fluid grace. They called to you, whispered notes of a siren song you could hear beneath the rush of blood in your ears. A thumping promise that banged against a door you sealed shut. You knew it wouldn’t fix anything—only a guarantee to make matters worse—but there was no ignoring what beckoned you forth.

Joaquín called after you, shoving his way through a drunk crowd that barely noticed he was there. You could feel him at your heels, breath fighting its way into your lungs with each punctured gasp—a ragged need for something other than this heat.

His hand curled around your hip, nose buried at the base of your neck.

“Dance with me?” he mumbled.

You allowed your eyes to slip shut, breath spilling past parted lips as the taste of tequila permeated the tip of your tongue. “I hate you,” you sighed, fingers tangling with his.

“Lo se.”

“Then why did you come back?”

The sway of his body behind yours echoed with comfort—that night burned into the back of your mind. “You.”

He spoke with sincerity. A coveted admission he buried the day he wrote those words—his fate sealed with such a tiny stamp. The years may have dragged by, his head barely above water, but the truth still remained. The mere knowledge that you existed somewhere on this Earth—a piece of him left to drag yourself out of the hell he created—broke him little by little. Until he woke up one day, struggling to breathe.

Dancing with Joaquín felt natural. Years spent bar hopping and sneaking into club back entrances weren’t something you could forget with ease.

“It’s not that easy,” you retorted, voice thick and throat constricted. “You don’t just get to…”

“Mírame corazón.”

“No.” The gasp at his touch twirling you slowly in arms you once longed to feel around your waist said otherwise.

There was no fighting something your heart ached for, a pitiful longing you felt claw at the pit of your stomach. The closeness of it, the heat pouring off his body—his hands guiding your hips into a motion the both of you understood better than words spoken in anger. You wanted to hate him. Some parts of you did.

The razor thin line of hate and love blurred as he fit you against his body. A missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for.

He possessed your soul with each step, fingers tangling into his shirt to keep yourself upright. The awkward playfulness that arose like before was nowhere to be found. This time you knew the stakes. He understood the consequences that came with making his choice and he had to live with it every day of his life. Fixing what might forever remain broken would take more than a dance, but it was somewhere to start.

“I fucking missed you,” he whispered—throat tight, constricting his words. He wanted to say more than this, more than words that rang with a hollow truth you might never believe again.

What was stopping you from walking away and leaving him in your past?

What kept you in his arms, following the swivel of hips he craved to grip through the years?

“Joaquín,” you breathed, eyes half lidded and sweat glistening in the orange glow.

“Etérea.”

You pulled away, the hint of lips curled into a grin flashing in darkness he had to squint through. The memories were falling into place. Forgotten joy, carefree moments scattered across a life spent together. He trailed after you for years, determined to love you up to his final breath; if only you understood how quick he might have fulfilled that promise. The reason he crawled his way back—pain splintering along his spine, purple hued bruises now a soft yellow along paled skin.

Tugging you back with a chuckle, he felt the anger wash off your body as you collided with him. His chest snug against your arched back. This was his home. The one place he never dared tell another soul about—too afraid it might disappear.

The gasp you let out was ragged, marred by all the grief he put you through. “I…”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you too,” you relented, head falling back to his shoulder—the mouth you dreamed about finding purchase on your neck.

This felt like a betrayal of yourself. The past five years spent battling demons you never thought could exist in your life. He tore you to pieces with just a few words. Paragraphs of messy ink forever stained in the back of your mind. You could still feel the fucking paper under your fingers—splotches of tears discoloring the pen he used.

How could you allow him to drag you back? But you were tired of pretending to be okay. Exhausted by piteous smiles and pathetic excuses to bring you back to life.

You were stumbling down a dangerous path; his teeth digging softly into salt coated skin that haunted him in dreams. The prick of his incisors scraping along your vein jolted what little sense remained into place—your heart thundering an erratic beat in your chest. He still moved with you, hands securely placed on your hips, body molded to your back until you felt his jeans dig into you.

Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

“Stop-” Abruptly he stopped, his touch falling limp at his sides. “No I can’t… We can’t.”

“Joaquín!” Clara’s voice punctured through the thick atmosphere of lust—the wanton need for him washing away with each wave of pain. “You made it.”

“Excuse me,” you muttered, dragging in breath after breath until you lungs burned with the effort. The sting was good, it kept your head above water.

Ramming through the throngs of people you staggered towards the bathrooms. Everyone was far too preoccupied with dancing to crowd the bathrooms and your luck finally came to fruition when you saw an empty hallway. Half worded apologies spilled out of your mouth, tears burning your already hot cheeks as you moved fast enough to send a searing ache down one ankle.

Joaquín’s stomach lurched, his feet already moving before his body could catch up. Michael’s arm looping around his shoulder kept him where he stood, his eyes tracking your stumbling form until the crowd swallowed you whole. Leaving him to agonizingly swallow the stone now stuck at the top of his esophagus.

You were hurt—fighting five years of pain—and he was the one to cause it.

“How was the flight man?”

He snapped to attention, slapping a fake grin on his face he hoped would be enough to sell the lie. “Flight was good. Cramped with all the people.”

“What you didn’t get first class?” Clara teased. “I thought being an Avenger came with perks.”

“Not an Avenger. Well…not yet.”

“Gettin’ too busy for us New York folk huh,” Michael pressed.

Joaquín didn’t hear a word they said, too focused on where you went, what you were doing, how he could rectify his stupid fucking mistake. “Ya cállate hombre. I’m never too busy for you guys.”

“Could have fooled us.” Clara sipped at her drink, a brown lined mauve smile glinting with a voracious sneer he’d seen before. A look reserved for those who warranted such revenge. “I saw you two dancing.”

“Yeah…we were-”

“Too bad she’s already taken isn’t it?” she sighed, the saccharine pitch of her voice slowing the music as a low pitched buzz blaring in his ears.

“W-What?”

“She’s dating someone. A guy from her office. They met a year ago I think? Bueno, we’re thinking wedding bells soon. Since it’s been so long.”

Joaquín’s heart stuttered, mind blaring with a barrage of anger he shut away—self hatred he’d grown familiar with. Time came to a stop, the thumping music falling away, and suddenly he was back in the air. Falling to his death. Your face, your laugh, your voice, whispering in the back of his head—calling him to stay alive. Beckoning him home with wide eyes and forgiveness coated on your tongue.

You couldn’t be lost to him so soon. You were supposed to wait for him.

Only those were fictitious dreams procured in a fractured mind. You didn’t have to do anything. He let you go. And there was no fixing what he destroyed—a grave he dug for himself now lingering with the scent of your perfume, the ghost of your touch haunting him.

“But…” Struggling for air, he straightened his spine—heart twisting beneath the weight of his fuck up. “Wedding bells?”

Clara nodded. “She didn’t tell you?”

The anger was seething in his chest, scorching each vein, clamping around his lungs. “No. That wasn’t mentioned.”

“Pity,” she muttered. “Michael? Another drink mi amor?”

His feet were moving before she could finish her question, hands pushing past drunk people and sweaty bodies lost to the beat of the music. Somewhere in the club you were running to escape a future he now knew could never be. He knew being calm, level headed enough to push through this haze of red, was the only option at this point. But there was no reasoning in love, no sense to be had when you were so close.

Someone cussed at him in Spanish as he managed to make it to the hallway, pushing open the bathroom door without hesitation. You stood alone by the sink. Wiping at tears that refused to stop—your eyes tinged red with how rough you were on yourself. Only when the click of the lock echoed in the small space did you finally look up, finding his reflection in the mirror—your lips twisted into a frown.

“Occupied,” you spit out, yanking another towel from the dispenser.

“Corazón-”

“I don’t want to hear it Joaquín.”

“Five minutes.”

“No. What do you think I don’t want to hear it means? I’ve had enough of the fucking mind games for one night-”

“Escuchame.” The word bit out from the back of his throat, freezing you in place. “What do you want me to say huh? I’m sorry for being an asshole? I’m sorry for fucking up the best part of my life?”

“You were an asshole,” you retorted.

“I know that.” He took three steps, pinning you to the sink, a look you wanted to recognize but couldn’t painting his features. “I know I’m gonna spend every day of my existence apologizing for the shit that I pulled. But what I didn’t know was the truth.”

“What truth are you-”

“Marriage?” he growled like the word dripped with enough sin to kill him on the spot. “You’re practically engaged and chose to dance with me like that? Like I still had a chance?”

Your jaw hung open, mind reeling as the word hit you. “Marriage?” you exclaimed. “Who the fuck…”

“Clara practically jumped for joy with the news.” The laugh dripped with contempt, fingers curling into the edge of the sink as he moved close enough to smell the tequila on your tongue. “I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“Mentirosa,” he huffed.

“Joaquín you’re being insane-”

“Am I?” he snapped. “You’ve driven me insane. Since I lost you I’ve felt pieces of myself disappear.” He dropped his forehead to yours, the warm wash of his breath brushing along your lips—begging for the oxygen you stole when he let you go. “You gotta tell me corazón. Tell me who he is.”

Believing that Clara wouldn’t get involved somehow was ignorance on your part, but some selfish part of you wanted to watch him suffer. To see him break as you did years ago.

Perhaps it was bad of you, a sinister part of your mind speaking, and yet you couldn’t let go of what Clara started. Marriage to a fictitious man—enough of a reality to prove that you were better. That you could live without Joaquín taking up space in your life.

“So you can confront him? I don’t think so.”

Words that only seemed to rile an unforgiving beast buried in the depths of a gentle man. “Someone has to tell him you’re mine.”

Your breath hitched, an all too familiar siren call dragging you to the bottom of an ocean you traversed long ago. “I’m not…”

“Sí lo eres.”

Yes. You were his.

There was no use denying what you could feel in a heart that would forever be carved with his initials. Sacred with its thorns and roots, it drew you to him, captured you with the vow of all he promised before shit fell apart. You were his. You couldn’t even fathom belonging to anyone else. And he knew it the moment your eyes flicked up to meet his—those brown irises you ached for.

“Yeah…” His hand cupped your chin, thumb pulling at a pliable bottom lip willing to fall open. “You know it don’t you bebita?”

“Joaquín-”

Music thumped with a bass loud enough to rattle the walls of this small bathroom, but you could barely hear it over the sound of his heavy exhale. His lips caught yours, hand tightening at the soft breath you pushed into his open mouth—tongue sliding along teeth and taste buds still coated in mezcal. Sucking in air you dug a hand into curls you tugged years ago; still the same man you loved, yet someone entirely different.

A person you longed to know.

You lost all sense when a hand tugged at the skirt of your dress, pushing it up past your hip with a muffled groan. The kisses burned you inside, curling a fist around an already bleeding heart. He devoured you, swallowed each sound and quick pant as you looped your arms around his neck to extinguish the space between your bodies. Fingers dipped beneath the elastic waistband of panties he’d admire later, too intent on the feel of your damp patch and pooling slick.

“Fuck I missed you,” he sighed, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your throat, palm tipping your head back with a pleased hum. “So wet corazon.”

“I n-need-”

“I know.” Licking a line down your jugular you felt whatever anger still simmered beneath the surface vanish—wanton lust blinding you to the mess this would create. “I’ve been thinking about this. How you feel.”

You moaned, hips pushing into his touch. “Please. Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he smiled, fingers sliding along your twitching clit with ease—able to rip sounds from you that had gone dormant the day he left. “That what you want? Need that pretty clit played with?”

Nodding frantically wasn’t good enough for a man who dreamed of this moment since departure. He gripped your cheeks, thumb running along a cheek decorated in soft gold glitter courtesy of Clara. A small showing of reverence for the man who toyed with your folds, dipping a finger into your slick and dragging it up slow enough to send shivers up your spine.

“I want words.”

“I-I want you to…”

“To what?” he asked far too smug in the way heat flooded your face, burning the tips of your ears and back of your neck.

Yanking at his curls, you watched in fascination when his head fell back, a groan bubbling past swollen lips. “I want you to make me cum on your fingers,” you breathed, lips pressed to a red flushed ear.

He smiled, dazed by the tight grip in which you held him. “As you wish.”

You should have seen it coming the second you released him, how his lips mashed to yours with a grunt, two fingers plunging into your dripping cunt down to his knuckles. Exactly what you asked for on his terms. You wanted to finish and Joaquín was nothing if not competent in that job. The order falling smooth from your mouth—his mind latching onto it with a desperation you’d never seen in him before.

The heel of his hand ground against your clit, trapping you on the edge of that all too familiar rush of bliss. You were right there. Chasing the edge of something mind numbing. By the hands of a man who ripped you apart, leaving you behind with nothing but blunt words and faded ink.

“That it?” Your body pitched forward, face burying into his shoulder when his fingers struck perfectly. “Yeah that’s it huh.”

“I’m gonna—fuck—g-gonna cum.”

He doubled down, practically ripping the high from you with a voracious need to see you break for him. To burn his name in the walls of your fluttering cunt that coated his palm in your slick. Even through the loud echo of music you could hear the wet squelch of his fingers pounding into you, possessing you in a way that was bound to leave you a shell of yourself.

“Soak my hand,” he breathed against the shell of your ear.

Your thighs trembled, clamping down around his wrist as it tore through you. A muffled shout pressed between teeth you sunk against his neck—marking him with the harsh lines of your canines. The music faded, everything else deafened by the ringing in your ears, the wash of bliss far too much for you to take. It wasn’t until your hand gripped his did he finally cease his movements, pulling away to give you a chance for fresh air not plagued by the scent of his cologne.

“W-Wait.”

“Take your time querida.”

“We shouldn’t…” Reality crashed onto your shores with a harsh sweep that nearly dragged you beneath darkened waves you couldn’t navigate alone.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in the heat of passion with minds muddled by alcohol and adrenaline, not when he still refused to acknowledge that whatever occurred beforehand wasn’t for the best. You were lost, begging for him to lead you somewhere safe. To protect you against the darkness that ravaged your mind for five years. Instead he allowed jealousy to get the best of him.

You were his without question. But at what cost?

“I need some air,” you gasped, pushing him back until you could stand on shaky legs.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Everything. “I just need air.”

You needed far more than that. Something that would cure the agonizing pain coursing through your veins, the buzz of pleasure and alcohol barely making a dent. You cringed at the slick smearing along the crease of your thighs as you walked—the consistent throbbing where his fingers hooked into you drove your mind to the brink of something worse than madness. He owned you in a matter of minutes; reminded you exactly where you belonged.

“Stop fuckin’ running,” he called after you, pushing past the crowd.

Clara caught your gaze for a brief moment, concern flashing to the surface before you shook her off. Making a beeline for the only exit people practically poured out of. The air felt cold along your skin, drying the sweat along your arms and legs. And he rushed out after you, close on your heels—snapping at a chance to corner you.

To finally hash out what should have been said five years ago.

“Will you look at me?”

Sucking in a breath, you struggled to calm the overbearing rush in your ears. “Just…let me breathe please.”

“Mi vida-”

“No!” you snapped, whirling around to catch his stunned face. Everything unraveled faster than you could gather it in your shaky palms, slipping between spread fingers and raw nails that clung to peace. “You return after five years of silence and what? You expect me to forgive you? Just like that?”

The echo of your voice traveled down the street, attracting attention from whoever was closest, but you’d breached the point of complacent false smiles and sweet words void of feeling. He’d ripped you to shreds in mere sentences. Sliced through a lonely heart with something he knew would destroy what parts of your relationship held on despite the distance.

“I was willing to wait for years Joaquín,” you sobbed. “But you couldn’t even handle a few fucking months. You were too much a goddamn coward to break up with me the night you left.”

“Do you think I wanted to break up with you?” he snarled.

“Yes-”

“Me vuelves loco.” He’d been reduced to muttering under his breath, hands tugging at his hair as you wiped at the tears with sweaty palms. Love wasn’t supposed to be this. A knife neither of your held onto, plunging into wounds that never stopped bleeding. But he couldn’t stay away.

Who was he without you in his life?

“Maybe you just have to let me go-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking sentence,” he spit between clenched teeth. “You think I wanted to be without you for five years? That life was easy without hearing your voice or seeing your face? That you were alone because of the choice I made? I hate myself for destroying us! I can’t let you go because I’m desperately hopelessly in love with you. You can’t fix that corazón.”

Your breath hitched, familiar words spoken a lifetime ago here in this very spot. “It hurts Joaquín. Being near you is strangling me.”

“Then tell me what I can do. You have to tell me so I can fix it.”

“I don’t know if you can,” you whispered.

Taking the final few steps, he finally stood toe to toe with you—a calloused hand reaching for the curve of your cheek glistening with makeup and tears beneath the dim streetlight. “I’m nothing without you. I just existed for five years until I saw you again.”

His touch was warm, enticing in all the familiar ways that transformed the reasons you fell for him. Even as you shattered before him, there was still comfort to be found in his presence. He was the sunlight on a warm summer day. The reason you bloomed in the seasons of friendship and almosts and forgotten saccharine love. You couldn’t remain tied to the ground without him acting as gravity—twining himself around your broken form to keep you safe.

Even if he was the reason you bled along the cracked pavement below.

Perhaps it was a mistake, a memory you’d look back on in another five years. But he’d been your path since you found his eyes in a crowded classroom. His smile painted across cheeks that flushed red when you asked if he’d like to sit with you—if he’d take the first step in a thousand, start the story and watch it unfold before you.

“Okay,” you breathed, lost in the brown hue that still gleamed after all this time.

The apartment was stuffy after hours of relentless summer heat. A broken fan you never bothered to fix sat precariously on a stack of worn books picked up at the local thrift store. Joaquín thumbed through a familiar title he remembered snagging off your bookshelf in your old bedroom. The pages were yellowed, corners folded and re-straightened, but he could recall the story as if he was back in that old house listening to your family through the walls.

“How’d I know you pick that one,” you mused, discarding your purse onto a slightly messy kitchen table.

“Can’t help that I love it.”

You smiled. “Even though I never let you borrow it.”

“Never said I had to give it back,” he retorted, leaving it on the small wooden table by your counter, making a note to stick it in his back pocket when you weren’t looking. “The place looks…the same.”

“And that’s bad?” He snapped to attention, stomach jumping. Only to melt at the shining grin you gifted him in the yellow glow of your lamps. “Eres tan fácil.”

Laughter came easier the closer it got to midnight, the familiar warmth of your apartment echoing with memories he wouldn’t soon forget. “Mala.”

If he closed his eyes that night existed with a clarity that punched the air out of his chest. The quick pace you fell into one another—uncaring of what might come to pass. You were reckless in love, desperate to finally feel the touch held back for so long, the longing that was bound to snap. He could smell the perfume you wore, taste the drink you were nursing before Michael pushed him to dance with you. How you sounded beneath him, looked and tasted and touched after years of pure imagination.

Tonight sparked with a charged past ready to play out before your very eyes. A moment in time neither of you could ignore for much longer.

“Water?” you asked breaking the weighty silence.

He shook his head, eyes dark with a familiar need you’d seen once before. “I wanna talk. Like we used to.”

“Talk…” Sucking in a breath, you wiped at the sweat gathering along your chest. Joaquín followed the slow movement with rapt attention—his mouth dry and chest thundering with a restless heart. “What’s there to say? I already know what you’ve been up. Congrats by the way.”

The words were dry off your tongue. A silver tipped blade pressed to the base of his neck.

How could he blame you? When the reason he left you forged a direct path to who he became. The title he carried across his back as he struggled for air.

He wouldn’t be Falcon if he stayed. But he also might have been happy.

“You’re the first person I wanted to tell,” he said softly, admitting what he harbored in a cracked heart for years.

Your heart twisted, stomach fluttering in that old way it used to when you’d catch sight of him. Frustrating. Even as you relished in emotions you longed for after he left. Hope that this would turn into more—a future you could count on. Rather than a consequence you never asked for. Sleeping with him wasn’t the problem; neither was loving him. Even if he never returned you would regret making those choices, pieces of your life that set your heart on fire.

“You could have. If you stayed.”

Joaquín sighed, fingers curling into fists as he gnashed at his cheek. “I know. You never asked about me.”

“What,” you blurted out.

“Micheal knew where I was. He kept in touch. You could have asked him.”

You scoffed. “And who broke up with who again?”

“I wasn’t going to make you wait on me corazón. Being a ball and chain isn’t who I am and you know that. You had a whole life ahead of you. Things you planned to do before that night-”

“What life?” you exclaimed, voice pitched high enough to scratch an already raw throat. “I was broken for five years! Time I’ll never get back. All for what? So you could feel better about a decision you made on a whim? Without asking if that’s what I wanted.”

Ripping open yet another wound he felt his heart give out at the shine of tears on your face. Makeup smudged along the rim of your wet eyes, lips smeared with the remnants of a lipstick he knew was stained along his shirt. You were everything he wanted in life, the moonlight he basked in at the end of the day. The sirens song he crawled home to hear one last time, even as he drowned beneath a shattered love you might never reciprocate again.

He exhaled long and heavy, wiping at his eyes as he glanced around your darkened apartment. A couch he’d slept on was shoved near the window, a new T.V. mounted on the wall was turned off, and an old record player he helped you find now set on a rickety stand. Records piled on a coffee table he could remember eating off of before you found a kitchen table.

A home you built in the time he was gone. One that was always meant to be entwined with his possessions and memories.

Orange flowers sat in a familiar crystal vase his mother used to keep by the kitchen window. Always a new bouquet brought in from his father at the end of a long work week. Music flowing between the walls of a house he now stayed in as he fought to prove himself to you all over again. A past that you lingered in without knowing.

“Cempasúchil.”

You caught what he was fixed on—a small gathering of flowers from the corner you grabbed without thinking. A routine you’d grown to love even after years of his absence.

“For your pops. You said they were his favorite.”

His heart dropped. “You still bring him flowers?”

“I go every Friday with your mamá.”

Every Friday…

Five years of days spent with his family. Even after things fell apart.

He loved you.

He would love you til his last breath, the final beat of a heart that always belonged to him from the very first page. There was no denying a truth that couldn’t be buried in the depths of guilt and grief. Pain laced with memories that clung to apartment walls and city streets. You were his forever. His soul twisted around a body carved with your name.

“Siempre te amaré,” he whispered.

The gasp sounded sweet off lips he could still taste. “Joaquín-”

“I do,” he confessed. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t loved you mi corazón.”

“You can’t just say that.”

“Why?” he demanded.

Slowly you lowered yourself into a chair that was once stuffed into the corner of his living room. “Because we still have to talk about what this is. What we’re gonna do to figure it out while you’re home.”

“What this is? I know what it is. I’ve known since you asked me to sit next to you. I’m yours. I’ve been yours all along.” He dropped to his knees quicker than either of you expected, his hands grasping the warmth of your thighs through sweat stained satin. “I got hurt mi vida.”

Your body stilled, hands cupping his cheeks as fear threaded between each rib and nerve. “What?”

“I…I was stupid and made a mistake and they had to stitch me back together. But I couldn’t care about any of it. Not the fucking pain, or surgery, or having to recover for months, because when I was falling out of the sky…all I could think about was you.”

How quickly you could have lost him and you never knew. You weren’t there when he was struggling to live. You weren’t there when he woke up. You…weren’t there.

“I-I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I didn’t know. I would have come to you-”

“No, no está bien. Yo estoy bien.”

“You almost died and you’re saying it’s okay?”

He smiled, forehead pressing to your stomach—fingers digging into what flesh he could hold as you clung to him. Some part of you sunk your teeth into the fear of losing him, dragging it close to swallow down that feeling. Every emotion, all the pain it kept you alive. It let you know he was there with you and for the first time in five years you held the choice of forever in your hands once more.

There he was offering you everything he was. All he could be, all you knew he was.

The man you were always destined to fall into.

“It is okay,” he murmured. “Because I’m here with you. And I didn’t think I’d get that again. I’m home.”

This is where belonged. The space that called him forward and you watched his eyes raise to find yours. Love shining in irises that haunted his waking life. Everywhere he went Joaquín saw you. In the midnight sky, in the summer days spent on a stuffy base somewhere, in the people he met and allies he formed. You existed in all that encompassed him—a soul he’d struggle to find and vow to keep.

“Rip me apart mi vida. Destroy me as many times as you want. I’ll do anything you want if it means stayin’ with you.”

“Mi amor,” you said beneath a soft breath and his heart mended itself with a shaky ragged gasp.

He rose to meet your lips as your fingers scrambled to find purchase in his jacket, tugging him close enough to nearly tip the chair back. If it fell he’d be there to catch you. Perhaps that’s what had your legs sliding up around his hips, a soft moan pressed to a tongue that slid along yours. The taste of you drove him off the brink of what kept him sane—all the attempted to stow inside an aching heart.

Licking into your mouth with a broken whimper, he dragged you to the edge of the chair, hands kneading at the top of your ass. You yelped into it with a smile, diving into the kiss with a fervor that had him leaking into his jeans. The heat from earlier pooled along his spine again and Joaquín knew he’d barely survive sinking into you; he could feel his cock twitch with every stroke of your tongue.

“Bedroom,” he gruffly got out, yanking you up onto wobbly legs. “‘M not fucking you in the kitchen. Not tonight.”

You grinned, tugging him down an all too familiar path. “There’s going to be more than one night?”

“If I have any say about it.”

“Eres bien creído.”

Hands ripped at your dress, pulling it up and off your body before he could even reach the bed slightly messy with rumpled covers. A staple he could always remember. It made him smile against your lips as you tugged at his clothes—those same warm hands sliding along bare skin. The jacket was left by the door, shirt tossed to the depths of your room and Joaquín placed you on the mattress before reaching for his belt.

Chills rippled along your back at the sound, heart hammering in your chest. He looked the same. Yet something older was housed in his stance, someone who was sure of himself in the way he pushed away the last of his clothes. A grin bloomed across swollen lips.

You admired him as much as you could. Dragging your eyes down to the red tip of his leaking cock and breathlessly finding his eyes in the dark of your bedroom. Last time neither of you got this chance. A moment of stillness before you collided. Silence thick with an electrifying tension you felt down to your toes.

Lifting a bare leg, you placed your foot on his stomach, dragging it down until his hand wrapped around an ankle—tugging you close with a harsh breath.

“Being a tease huh?” he mumbled, lips finding a home at the top of your thigh.

“Not my fault you’re easy to mess with.”

“Since when?”

You smiled, fingers curling around his mussed hair. “Since always.”

Words slipped to the back of a clouded mind when his hands tugged at the lace of your panties, sliding them off and marveling at the wet spot left behind. He could practically taste you on his tongue. The addicting tang of what he’d been craving since he left you at that airport. With a shuddered breath he slid a thumb along your folds, circling your clit hard as you writhed under his needy touch.

“W-Want you inside me,” you forced out, hips rolling into his hand.

Somehow through the haze of lust he made himself follow through with your plea. Hand positioning himself along the dripping hole he’d drink from later—his tongue swiping along his bottom lip. You were mewling for him, fingers twisting into the sheets and legs dropping open wide enough to accommodate his hips.

He slid along your cunt, grinning with unhinged glee at the loud moan ripped from your throat. You were unable to beg. Mouth barely forming coherent words as he toyed with your pulsing clit. Precum stained the pretty clean skin of your inner thigh, smearing a mess into the hair he was desperate to bury his nose in.

“Say it for me yeah?” he muttered, voice deep with gravel.

A gasping moan hit his ears, your chest heaving. “Please. Fuck me. Come in me. Just p-please do something-”

“Sh, sh. I know mi corazón. You’re empty without my cock huh?”

You nodded, yanking him close enough to feel his chest against yours. “Need it baby. Need you to stuff me full.”

“Mierda-” The near painful twitch of his cock had him burying his face into your neck, teeth scraping against the delicate chain of your necklace. Until he caught sight of silver tucked between your breasts, hidden by the black lace of your bra—a piece of himself he thought he’d never see again.

Only when he was ripping at your final item of clothing did you drag yourself through the thick fog. “W-What’s wrong-”

“You kept them,” he breathed, lips mashing to yours and hand roughly kneading your breast with a grunt. “Wore them the whole fuckin’ time tonight and I didn’t know.”

You wanted to explain that they were all you had left of him, a comfort after all this time. But his mouth closing around your nipple shut down everything but the sparks rushing along veins you didn’t know could exist. He sucked at your skin, teeth indenting into the softness of your breast. That desperate hunger shoving to the forefront—something you could feel wrap around the length of your spine.

He rutted into you, cock brushing where you needed him most, but you couldn’t let go of those words. There was no world where you wouldn’t love him.

No plane of existence you’d be where he wasn’t.

“They’re yours,” you gasped, grinding against him—head tipped back as his teeth scraped your throat. “I’ve always worn them. Since you—fuck baby—sent them to me.”

Whatever he could have said vanished, his mind going white at the thought of you wearing his dog tags from the very beginning. Five years of holding him over your heart. Time he believed to be filled with a cold resentment suddenly colored itself with a flushed pink haze—a dreamlike state he drowned in with a smile painted across his face. You loved him. Even through all this…it would always be him.

He sunk into you in one thrust and you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders at the sudden stretch, his hips meeting yours and head falling to your chest. A muffled fuck pressed between the curve of your breasts—tongue licking the bead of sweat along skin that glistened in the yellow haze of your bedroom. Breath twisted in your lungs, trapping what oxygen remained as he snapped his hips down into you again. Dragging out with slow cruel thrusts.

“So fuckin’ good,” he gasped, hand tangling with yours and pressing it into the plush comforter. “Gonna make me lose my damn mind.”

“Baby.” The word was a desperate whine on your lips, thighs wrapped tight around his hips—chest heaving for resuscitation from the plane of bliss he threw you into.

Without a map you feared you’d be lost to its depths. But his teeth digging into your lip kept you close, satiated the tremble going down your limbs.

There was no mercy in how he fucked you. No time for soft reverence and tender quiet moments. That would find its way to you later—when the moon began its descent along the horizon, time reaching far enough to still what small pleasures you could steal. He’d bring you back to life with a tongue buried in slick folds and fingers pumping deep.

Tonight he ravaged, took his fill of what you both craved as the night went on. Two souls verging together at last. Finally found after years of distance—entire galaxies spanning the years he spent away from your touch.

“Listen,” he breathed hotly into your mouth, lips quirking as the sound graced ears unable to discern his voice from the thundering of your own heart.

But he slowed his movements, plunging into you with a biting grunt you felt burn into your lungs. The loud wet squelch of your cunt bouncing off the walls of an apartment privy to this once before. Sinful in its agonizing beauty. He smiled, grinding his hips hard enough to drag a throaty moan from your chest—his lips there to swallow what you offered with glee. Heat burned beneath your cheeks, the tinge of shame digging between ribs and arteries.

Until he dropped to his elbow, your name encased in a high breath—his brows pulled together and teeth indenting the plush bottom lip you longed to suck on.

“S-Shit baby I’m not—fuck-” The word dragged between a clenched jaw as he rapidly pounded into you, the bed creaking from the force you felt with each stroke.

His cock struck against your walls, a creamy slick pouring out to drip down your ass, coating his balls as they slapped against skin he’d dig his teeth into later. A mess. He’d reduced the both of you to a fucking mess, unable to pick through a hazy mind. Each moan you let out grew higher, thighs shaking from the effort, and he ripped away from your touch before you could drag him close. Looping each limb over arms prominent with veins and familiar tattoos.

Mistakes made back in the youth of being nineteen. Time he spent wrapped in any part of you he could get. Even as something more simmered beneath a friendship always destined to change.

“Joaquín-” you sobbed, clutching at any part of him you could reach, his chest and shoulders red with marks from your nails. “I-I’m not engaged.”

He stilled, eyes wide and mouth parted as he panted for air. “You said-”

“I-I could never marry someone t-that wasn’t you.”

A strand finally snapped, edge reached long before you could ask him what created it in the first place. Brown suddenly bled into black and he now fucked you with everything in him. Lips sealed over yours, hand clenching tight around your hips—his coarse hair dragging along a throbbing clit that begged for more. Your walls fluttered around him, a shattered cry lost to his kiss, but nothing had felt so perfect.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ marry you,” he grunted, forehead resting against yours, bending you up and into his body—cock ramming right up into a spot that left you going blind with pleasure. “Make you mine.”

Everything you longed for—five years of love and grief—crashed at the shore of your body. Ripping the final pieces of your heart from the decay it lived with. You came with his name on your lips, back arching up into him hard enough to draw a flicker of pain down your spine—your eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the fabric beneath you.

He collapsed over you with a choked shout, face buried into your neck as he coated your walls with that soft pool of warmth. A feeling you had forgotten about—bliss wrapped in the taut muscles of his arms, his body a heavy weight on yours. You were lost to it, drowning in his scent and taste, but his lips finding yours tied you back down to Earth. His hands sliding along your skin, tongue licking the pain off the back of your teeth.

Joaquín pieced you back together with a love that altered you entirely, shifted all that you were beneath the tidal waves of his heart. Peace settled in the base of a hammering heart—hope finding a home in the bottom of a fluttering stomach.

You loved him.

Eternally.

And that would forever be enough.

Sunlight danced along the bare skin of your back, face pressed into his chest—ear above a steady beating heart. It lulled you to sleep after hours of rekindling a flame that never went out. His hands a burn along your body, lips reacquainting with the dips and curves of your thighs. He sought you out in the early hours of dawn with a stiff cock and groggy pleas for your sweet essence.

Who were you to deny him?

He smiled pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers toying with your ring finger. If he narrowed his eyes in the afternoon light he could see a flash of yellow gold along skin he savored—a hand he clutched with promise. It wouldn’t be too big; nor small enough to hide from inquiring eyes. A perfect set of jewels adorned on a finger he kissed, the piece of you yet to hold his permanent promise.

Till death.

Till he found you in the next life.

Slipping from the tangle of your limbs, he relished the leap of his heart at the sight of you spread along the bed. Naked and at bliss, exhausted from his hunger. He stole another kiss along your spine, finding his way through the familiar path of the kitchen that still lingered with the laughter of memories that painted the walls. Times spent with friends—now turned family—moments he might one day have again.

A faded picture of two young kids at high school graduation was pinned to the fridge door, another of a night spent dancing at some shitty frat party—high off the freedom of adulthood. Two versions of a love he’d could pick out with his eyes shut tight.

Another would set nicely beside them. Of a wedding in a small backyard, an aisle scattered with orange petals and white daisies adorned to his tux—a veil dragging along the floor where you walked towards him. An image that would be placed on altars in memory, an offering set between the frame and candle as he clutched you tight even in the afterlife.

The coffee machine beeped, two mugs set on the counter as he poured, and that’s where you found him. Fussing with the bottle of cream and sugar packets damp from hot liquid. He wore his jeans low on hips you bit at some point in the night—the indent of your teeth marked into skin that would forever wear your mark. Even if you had to place it night after night.

Your arms looped around his waist, lips finding the warm skin of his back. “I wanted to wake up with you.”

He laughed, turning gently in your hold. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You can still surprise me.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, eyes gleaming with a light that caught your breath in the base of your throat. “Got something in mind?”

Life suddenly held a different glow. Contentment filling veins with a something new. A piece that didn’t exist without him near—his love pressing deep and bright into a chest that burned hot. He left you breathless, begging for reprieve. Yet losing yourself to it all the same.

“So…about everything-” He cut you off with a kiss, hand dragging your left palm to his mouth. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

He smiled, at ease with the nerves he could feel beneath your wrist. “If I did?”

“I’d like that,” you breathed.

“Siempre estaras conmigo mi corazón?”

You nodded, heart singing beneath his love. “Si mi amor. I’ll be with you forever.”

©moonlight-prose do not feed my work into ai, do not steal my work, if you are a minor, spam like my fics, or are a blank blog you will be blocked.

[mistleaneous-chaos]

Played through chapters 3 and 4 of Deltarune and I got a few thoughts rattling around in my head so pardon if it's a bit unorganized/messy for a good bit

Spoilers for Deltarune Chapters 3 & 4

Kris really got failed by every adult around them in varying degrees

If Dess isn't the Knight then it's probably a Gerson situation where she's been dead for a while and the Knight is her dust on her baseball bat or something. It could either be due to something that happened in the shelter or someone explicitly using the dark world as a way to bring her back even if it is in a weird fucked up way.

I don't think that Kris is a bad person, I just think that whatever "promise" they made is something the person on the phone is holding over their head and making them uphold.

Kris' relationship with Susie is something that I wanna see elaborated on more, because their rapport with each other outside of things that we directly make Kris do/say is really important to me because of how well they get along. (I ship Krusie but that's irrelevant...partially)

For context, it's a headcanon of mine that outside of our dialogue options and things that we, specifically, do, the things Kris does is of their own volition, taking whatever crumb of Freedom they can get, but if I'm wrong then please correct me.

I don't know what would be more tragic, if "The Cage" referred to in the Prophecy really is Kris and that's the purpose they're meant for in the grand scheme of things, or if it's the Vessel and Kris was never meant to be friends with Susie and Ralsei and it's because of Gaster or smth they got dragged into this.

I'm really glad Toby didn't make Toriel or Asgore "perfect" , and gave them legitimate flaws. Asgore flaunting his attempts to "woo" Toriel right in front of Kris and never really talking as if they're separated hurts, but at the same time he does love and care about Kris, even if he's preoccupied with a lot of other things(looking forward to seeing more of that in the next chapter).

And then with Toriel, her not even calling Kris once after them being out until 2 in the morning in a thunderstorm, while she's at home dancing drunk with someone she met less than half a week ago. And then when they get home, you can visibly see Kris' embarrasment, with them turning their head away from Susie when she talks to them. Then Toriel nearly falls over on Kris and just tells them there's pancakes in the fridge(which Sans ate), and goes back to partying with Sans.

I wouldn't be surprised if whoever was on the phone(most likely Carol imo but it could be someone else, maybe Asgore) is someone that Kris looks up to, or just someone who acts empathetic to what's happening to them. Maybe someone they met in therapy/knows they went to therapy(which they may have gone to if I read the implications of the Chapter 4 Egg Room correctly.) Honestly I wouldn't be surprised with how much Kris must feel like such an outsider even in their own room. They have to look at all of Asriel's achievements every single time they wake up, to the point Susie comments on it when she visits their room. Along with that, they're the only human in town which is something that gets to them, to the point that upon seeing other humans even in a book they shut it immediately.

On the topic of their family, I also have some thoughs on Asriel, and I have this to say.

I would not be surprised if Asriel just decides to stay at college and say that he has exams or something. With how much he would have to deal with in Hometown, and the fact that he would have to deal with the loss of Dess again, I don't think it's that much of a reach that he'd just stay gone. (Also I do think Asriel and Dess were in a relationship based on the fact that Asriel's old clothes and his retainer were literally in her room which probably hadn't been touched in years).

Now I'm gonna talk about the prophecy, which is a WHOLE can o' worms.

I think that at least one person in the prophecy is not a member of the $!$! squad. It's vague enough to where it's entirely possible that one of them is another character(Like The Cage being intended for The Vessel rather than Kris), and there are parts that are just straight up different like Ralsei saying Susie should be the one wearing ribbons(WHICH COULD BE A FUNNY BIT SO IGNORE), or the fact that "The Girl" is a vague name which depicts a character of the prophecy who uses a sword, which for a prophecy that has very vague imagery in other cases, is a very definitive picture to paint when Susie herself uses an Axe.

Now for what I think the ending is, I think it's something that involves either a sacrifice of one of the gang or someone else, I'm not entirely sure.

For Chapter 5, I'm looking forward to the implied Asgore section. I think it has the potential to be the most Undertale-feeling chapter out of all of them so far, especially with his prophecy panel having him wearing an actual crown. Along with that, I think having more Asgore-Kris interaction has the potential to be very sweet and have character development for the big man or very sad with him still having to deal with the weight he's imposed onto himself of "fixing" his family situation.

[fiamat12]

Re: Sohoe - Friend or Foe?

Before you read, please note this post is to focus on a launch not on the character of the Sohoes. I believe all of them in the end have helped L w/ his legal obligations.

Many of us around these parts believe that there was a Part 1 and a Part 2 to the legal obligations w/ a negotiation period in between. The Lukola FBI looked back through Charmaine's ("C"'s) TT & IG activity to see if her current TTs could signal an end to obligations. What we found is that it lines up perfectly w/ our analysis - more specifically our timelines and what we think her role has been...

Let's start from the top w/ C's famous TTs:

1) TTs are similar now (possible end of Round 2) as to what we saw at the end of Round 1 (Aug/ Sept. of '24).

• This tracks. The overall repost sentiments are similar - bad friends and staying silent. She even reposted a TT from the same user, Iman Samone 😉 (see posts below)***

• The reposts after A's Sorrento dump indicated Round 1 could be done, as do the reposts now for Round 2. There was a particular repost on Aug. 25th that pointed to her being on L’s side and showing empathy for him. ⬇️

2) Scanning her timeline, she didn’t do this kind of post in Oct. as it was quite possibly renegotiation time, and she may have been asked to help w/ A's image rehab by then, so she wasn’t able to repost freely.

Now onto C's IG comments in regards to A:

1) She didn't seem to comment on an IG post of A’s prior to May 2024.

• It's curious, but not necessarily accurate since A constantly archives/ deletes posts. However, any difference would probably be minimal as A doesn't have that many posts.

• It could support the fact that she wasn't L's gf or an important part of his life as L's best mates who are active on sm would likely have been more consistently interactive w/ her.

2) From May-July of last year, it was sporadic.

• She’d comment on an occasional post like a new friend would - no dance videos but a few modeling ones, and mostly travel related posts like NY & LA (she is a flight attendant, after all).

• Technically, A should've been a known gf of her boyfriend's close childhood friend. Instead, it read like A was new to the group, because she was (!!) - except to R & S, maybe.

3) In August/Sept., there were no comments.

• Even on A's Italy dump, despite C being there, there were no comments, just a like. The lack of comments continued until Sept. 21st.

• This supports probable knowledge of an Antluke faux break-up, L "reuniting" w/ N and a cool down period

• The Sohoes' silence seemed two fold:

- Their job was done and they didn't serve the narrative anymore. (R's allusion to a drinking problem gave them a nice exit, stage right).

- They were being watched. As @jmuz09 stated: "I feel like this was that period where they were conscious they were being watched, and they all tried to act normal, like nothing happened in Sorrento"

4) From Oct 25, 2024 - March 6, 2025, C commented on every post of A's.

• This perfectly aligns w/ a timeline of image rehab and round 2 obligations and the friends & family support to "get this done".

• She hasn’t commented since March... perhaps the others chipped in for the last push - R did the dance video, JV, her boyfriend T and some musical theater friends did the marathon brunch, and L's sis, MD & S commented on A's last post..

Conclusion:

When all is said & done, I think we had a friend of Lukola helping out when she could... this post is analyzing sm activity but lest we forgot the in- person appearances C made w/ A (scroll back to Nov. if you must) and pics of her that she included on her own IG to likely help her image. More importantly, C has kept liking L's posts (21 out of 25 over the past year), commented "you were ROBBED" on his SMA post and has also regularly liked N's posts. 😊

Posts w/ C's TTs ⬇️⬇️⬇️

[jacksonekennedy]

Relief washed over Jack like the first drop of rain after a six month long drought. Hearing Alice admit that she didn't want to go either. Couldn't she just stay? Forever? Yes, Jack was saying forever after four days. It didn't matter. Nothing did. Because it occurred to Jack that rules didn't exist for these types of things.

His relationship to Sophia had lasted nearly two years, including the one year of marriage, and that hadn't worked out for him. Jack had never been so happy to get divorced now. Because here was Alice, a stranger (but not really, not at all), telling Jack that she just couldn't stop writing about him. A dozen paragraphs about the waterfall.

Alice assured Jack that she didn't want to make anything worse — his public image, and she leaned in to kiss him in between her words, before continuing: she was excited about the way she felt for him, and she wanted the world to know.

Jack exhaled, and a strange wave of emotion passed over his eyes. He swallowed, stared down at her knuckles. She wanted the world to know how she felt about Jack. It was a public declaration of love, and Jack couldn't wrap his head around that. Jack had criminal charges pending. She'd walked in on him snorting an obscene amount of cocaine earlier that evening. She didn't know about the pills in his luggage, or the other skeletons in his closet.

Did he deserve it? It felt like he didn't, but he was working very hard to earn it.

"I think it's easy because of the person you are." 

The person that he was. Is.

Jack would've walked over a thousand miles of broken glass if it meant that Alice was waiting for him at the end.

Jack would've walked over a thousand miles of broken glass if it meant he got to read just a single line of poetry from Alice.

Despite what she'd seen earlier that day, Alice wanted to share her feelings for Jack to the world.

"Alice…"

His brows were furrowed, and he realized that maybe he was gripping her fingers a little too hard. He relaxed, soothing whatever discomfort he'd caused with a brush of his thumb, again and again.

They weren't far from the airport now. Just a few turns away. And he felt the faint vibration of his phone. Notifications, maybe, that the plane was ready to go, or that there was a delay. He didn't care. He didn't care whenever Alice was telling him all of these things that he didn't deserve. Things that made him feel dizzy.

Words that charmed him. Words that made Jack feel like the most important man in the world. Words that made Jack feel so loved.

Purpose. Alice gave Jack purpose, and he felt like it was to love her for the rest of his days. Little by little, Alice was picking up all of the broken, damaged bits of Jack. She was smoothing them out, gluing them back together until he felt brand new again. She was doing the impossible. Alice and her hands — did she know she performed miracles with them?

The car came to an abrupt stop. He looked up, and there was the plane. He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at her hands for. Maybe a few seconds. Minutes. He wasn't sure. Jack swallowed, before finally looking at Craig. His driver of many, many years.

Craig who kept a secret better than anyone else on his staff. Craig, who'd heard some pretty cruel and damaging arguments with his ex-wife, and there were never any leaks. Jack trusted the man, but it didn't stop Jack from blurting something out.

"Can you get out?"

It took Craig an awkward silence to register that Jack was talking to him. Jack realized the bluntness of his request, and added:

"Sorry. Can we have some space?"

Craig dismissed himself pretty quickly. The driver's side door shut, and Jack remained silent because he didn't know what to say to Alice. Well, he knew what to say, but it had only been four days. But Jack reminded himself: there were no rules for this. He went back to staring at her hands, and more time passed, but Jack wasn't sure how long.

It was the good kind of silence. Comfortable and soothing. He hoped that he hadn't worried Alice with his rash behavior, and the quiet that followed. He was just … cherishing the moment because everything was about to change.

There weren't any rules. Jack wanted to tell Alice that he was grateful to have met her, that she'd changed his life. He wanted to tell Alice that he wouldn't have changed anything that happened in the last six months. It led them to this very moment. But the words fell short. He wasn't a poet.

Jack was always a fan of keeping things simple — in the moment. No thought, just action. He finally looked into Alice's eyes.

"Alice... I love you very much."

A lot could happen in four days. Significant events. Life-altering events. If you told Alice, sitting in her office, one finger tapping idly at her wrist cushion, that she was going to completely abandon her original pitch she might laugh, in a shocked, disbelieving kind of way.

But that was Before Jack. Even on day two ... Alice just would have nodded. And agreed. Because of course this wasn't a regular interview now— of course the chambers of her heart had already begun to re-orient themselves to include Jack. And now? Nearing the end of the second week?

It felt like Alice had a new heart entirely. Old one ripped out and gutted and replaced with something influenced by a new, entirely unique understanding of love. It could happen at any time. Strike immediate, and hard, and it could turn everything on it's head, and yet the new orientation was beautiful.

So when Jack responds to her idea about the article with approval— well. It makes her next inhale feel all the more oxygen rich. She had a new perspective, feverish bursts of writing that she wanted and needed to share.

'I'd be … so honored, Alice.'

And not only that— Jack was honored.

Fuck. He was honored, to be written about by her? Alice feels a wide smile creep across her face, relief and excitement and a very innocent sort of shyness peeking through her features.

'I fell for you so fast. Like, it scares me how fast it happened. It scares me how I don't ever want you to leave.'

Like Jack, finally breathing, it all starts to tumble out of her.

"I don't want to leave either. At all."

A sharp, heavy breath.

"And I'm really— like really— glad you said yes, because I've written so fucking much. I didn't even realize I could write this much? But I've written so much about our time together, and falling for you so fast, I think I have half a dozen paragraphs just about the waterfall—"

Another breath, because the idea of Jack feeling honored about this is making her feel oxygen-rich and dizzy all at once.

And now he's kissing her fucking fingers. God.

Alice could write thirty volumes about that alone. Jack falling for her too— fast. Jack kissing each little fingertip.

"—And I know everything has been hell in the media lately, I don't wanna make it worse for you, but." Alice smiles at him. Steals a kiss before his lip can descend upon her fingertips again. "—my feelings for you excite me. And... I feel excited about them in a way I want to share that. How happy you've made me in just a few days. And how... fucking great you are? And if you're alright with that ... I would like people to know."

Clever Jack. Beautiful Jack. Playful, quick, quicksilver Jack, so generous with time and affection and loving words. She hoped she'd captured it all in her writing.

"My mentor in college always said you have to be able to stand on your writing. Like ... you should be able to do that backwards and forwards. And I feel like I can with everything I wrote. And will end up writing."

Alice feels like she could defend each sentence in front of a thesis panel.

"I think it's easy because of the person you are."

[starmocha]

the idea of zaynemc having twins is honestly *chef's kiss*

snowdrop as an older brother 🥹🥹🥹🥹

would I be indulging you too much about this plot bunny if I asked:

snowdrop was carefully planned, would pregnancy 2 be as well or it'd be like oops 🫢

and the most important question of all:

how would they react upon learning they were having twins??

you don't need to answer if you don't want, it's fine, it's just that as much as I love the idea of zaynemc having their one little treasure, picturing them with two more and having a full house like that made me so happy. they deserve it so much. 🥹

🥹 lowkey hoped someone would ask~ This plot bunny has been sitting in my brain for too long. I really want to yap lol

☆-— The second pregnancy is both planned and unplanned, in the sense that both Zayne and MC have noticed how much time has passed and Snowdrop is already getting bigger and would start preschool and later grade school, so they're feeling the early signs of empty nest syndrome.

☆-— Zayne is holding it together well. He's feeling bittersweet about it, much like in the second to last scene in 'Keep It Icy,' but MC, on the other hand, is a little more visibly sad about her baby growing up. She's happy, of course, but still. This is her baby. She just wants him to stay little for a while longer. </3

☆-— So, one night, they are cuddling in bed, talking about their day, their son, and eventually it leads to them both admitting how bittersweet it feels that each day Snowdrop is becoming more independent and needing them both a little less. They're happy and proud that he's growing up as a happy, self-assured, and bright little boy, but it's so hard to reconcile this with their memory of the day he was born and he was just so small, and now he would soon be taking his first little steps into a new world where they won't always be the center of his.

☆-— Eventually, they both reach the same thought: "Should we try for another baby?" They're not trying to fill this sudden empty hole, but also realizing how they also want their son to grow up with a sibling. They can certainly afford a bigger family, and they both love the life they have built together so far.

☆-— But they also agree that this time, they're not rushing like with Snowdrop. They're relinquishing control to the Universe. They won't be using protection or being cautious, but they also won't be actively trying to get pregnant like the first time. If it's meant to be, then MC will get pregnant with another baby.

☆-— Cue some time later, MC notices her period is late. Zayne, too (of course). She also complains about how tender her breasts feel (Dr. Zayne to the rescue with some TLC for the titties). She's also more tired lately no matter how often she sleeps.

☆-— They suddenly look at one another, like, "Maybe???"

☆-— A few tests later and they're both shocked, because she's gotten pregnant much quicker than they both had anticipated. And then they're stupidly smiling and laughing, because, what do you mean they're now going to be a family of four????

☆-— Snowdrop, of course, is the first person to hear this news that "Mommy is going to have a baby. You're going to be a big brother soon!"

☆-— And sweet little Snowdrop is happy, because he senses his parents' happiness. Of course, he also hits them with an innocent "How did the baby get inside Mommy's tummy?"

☆-— MC says she has to go get reacquainted with the toilet because of her morning sickness, and abandons Zayne in a heartbeat. "You're a doctor, Zaynie, you have all of the answers. I just know how to shoot wanderers in the head. Bye~"

☆-— One awkward hour with a very inquisitive toddler later, Zayne is carrying Snowdrop in his arms as they go find MC, saying they should all go out and celebrate this news.

☆-— As the weeks pass during her first trimester, it kind of occurs to MC how she seems to be growing faster than during her first pregnancy. It seems like her bump is already showing, but Zayne reminds her how each pregnancy is unique. She shrugs and accepts his reasoning.

☆-— They soon find out just how unique this pregnancy is during one of her checkups.

☆-— They're floored. They wanted to try for a second baby, and they succeeded. Too well. Because, hello???? Did the doctor just say they heard two heartbeats? As in, twins??????

☆-— One ultrasound later, and they're driving home and MC is looking at the photo in her hands and then her bump and back to the photo before she starts laughing. Zayne is also still wrapping his head around the news and how overjoyed he is in this moment. It seems their family is jumping from three to five just like that.

☆-— Snowdrop, once again, gets first dibs on baby news. And once again, our darling little boy is very curious about some things. "Where did the second baby come from?"

☆-— MC conveniently forgets her marriage vow once more and abandons her husband during a hard time. "You're a doctor, Zaynie—"

☆-— "You can't keep using that excuse."

☆-— She still abandons him, reminding him that thanks to him, she's going to have to push out two babies this time. Zayne knew she would pull a dirty move like that. Cue him silently planning her future punishments.

☆-— Halfway through her pregnancy and they learn the twins' gender. They have Snowdrop with them during this checkup, so everyone learn that MC is pregnant with both another boy and also a girl.

☆-— Zayne and MC share a look, and she can just see the love in his eyes. He kisses her forehead and he's just whispering praises only she could hear.

☆-— Snowdrop is excited because he's going to have a little brother and sister. He asks them innocently, "Will they like me?"

☆-— Zayne and MC laugh. They're kissing his cheeks until he giggles, and saying the babies will love him so much, because he's their big brother. They also add that they love him so much, too, and won't ever stop or love him less, but now there would be more love to be spread around for their growing family.

[gomzdrawfr]

NAKED GRANDMA

Now that I have your attention, just wanted to put out a few things. This does not apply to anyone in particular, but set as a reminder to everyone, though I will be directing some of these to people who warranted it. This applies to both here on tumblr and on my twitter page.

At the end of the day, Raven is MY original character.

about the top/bottom thing

I get a lot of asks pushing the idea that Raven must be dominant or topping Price because she's a badass which let me be clear, Raven is a switch. Sometimes she tops, most time she doesn't. If I've already talked or drawn things where she's explicitly bottoming or just being submissive, you who comes in and push her to topping instead in an already established dynamic and context is kind of a dick move to me. Listen, just because a character is strong and competent doesn't mean she is also dependent in the bedroom, that they are only valid if they're dominant at all time. Get that misogyny bs out of here.

about requests and rude comments

If you're sending ask telling me to draw a mlm art with Price, going as far as telling me that Price is gay why do you have to do what every tiktokers/artist and ship him with a skinny copy and paste girl- Get out. This is my blog and you're coming here to frame her presence and existence as somehow inferior just because "it's better" then please fuck off. Take your sexisms and poorly disguised fetish FAR AWAY FROM ME. I won't entertain these asks and simply won't care. This is my main OC with stories and lores I care about. You want mlm? then find it elsewhere, there are places out there with this sort of content. Also, just fucking block me if you hate my OC stuff so much. Block the tags block my blog everything, if you need a tutorial here's one. I promise I don't give a flying fuck of your feelings.

Also, another subset of asks who's somehow disappointed about the fact with Raven marrying and having a family with Price (which mind you, the kids exist in a different timeline and not the canon one even), as though settling down with someone you love is????wrong???bad????? You people gotta be coming from the most narrow-minded or cesspool of tiktok/twitter to think settling down is downplaying her character. Again, this must be fucking linked back to the idea that "strong woman" must remain cold, isolated, work all the time to be valid. Don't bring your "oh she could've earned her Master degree and that high paying job at New York but noooo she settled with a boy without frontal lobe development who still stays at his mom's basement without a paying job instead :(((" and "just as worse as early Disney Princesses story" into MY NARRATIVE. Raven and Price are both approaching 40, coming from high demand and stress work who WANTS to settle down and build something NICE and domestic together. It's healing and they deserve it. Don't go around projecting your dislike for marriage and kids onto my, or ANYONE'S characters and dynamics (again, it's my OC??? like???? kindly fuck off once more??????)

Raven should and must do this or that

No, Raven should rest. Tone is important, if at any point it sounded like a pressure than a chill hey an idea :D then out the door you go as well.

Final note

I'm not trying to deter anyone from sending ask about Raven, you're welcome to make your HC and interpretations about Raven because well it's the internet and part of the fandom experience. I do enjoy and love answering ask about them! On the occasions I don't engage or respond to them, it's not personal alright? I just don't agree with or vibe with the take, I'm very specific with Raven specifically because she's the closest OC I've got here. But please please don't keep pushing your view onto mine, especially when I've already established my take on her.

I am sharing my OC with you, because I love her, I love her story and everything I've done to build her, and to share some of those moments both sad and joy with you because it's fun. I'm not here to warp her by popular demands or to change what she does just because you're whining about it.

Thank you for reading this far, and thank you everyone who has been kind and respectful. Here's to more OC shenanigans.

[pomefioredove]

the final act

if you're reading this, then the queue has run out, I've muted my posts, and closed requests for good. important things first: ad perpetuam memoriam (maybe cauldron of the reborn and noble bell, too) will continue, because I like it and have committed myself to finishing it. I was initially going to move it to ao3 but since ao3 is always having some kind of problem, it'll stay here.

aside from that, I am choosing to abandon this blog.

this decision wasn't easy but, well, for the best. for the past few months my posts have not been landing- I've excused this for my series, as I know AU and/or canon-divergent are not going to be everyone's cup of tea, but even my requests have received lackluster responses, which have led me to the conclusion that they aren't being read, except by a few followers (mostly my friends, whom I love). I'm not shadowbanned, and I have over 3,000 followers who are not bots, so it's not for lack of audience.

I experimented- changing formatting, adding more descriptive summaries, updating my graphics, adjusting the queue, writing more, writing less, but with few exceptions, nothing has really worked. I took the month of march off because it was causing me so much mental stress, and since then I've just felt really depressed about it. the disappointing response, negative/rude comments, and expenditure of energy I gave to trying to turn a response, were no help. this is, as I hope you'll understand, disheartening- especially while seeing other writers get thousands of notes for similar styles and lengths of fics. if there were ever a sign from the universe that it's time to move on, that would be it.

I sincerely appreciate the few of you who left kind comments, tags, and asks for me to read- you were noticed, and you are very loved. I tried to respond to everyone I could. many of you will be joining me as I move on to other blogs, some of you will remain, I'm grateful for all of you. the majority of my time here has been extremely rewarding. I've met some terrific people in this fandom.

to those on my other blogs: I'm looking forward to having more freedom to write for you in the future!

to those only here: ...well, there are a thousand blogs just like mine, and if there's anything this experience has taught me, it's that they deserve the attention more than I do.

finally, I don't want to make it seem like this was about notes; some of my proudest works have received very few, it's always been the conversation that mattered (read fandom potluck). I also don't want to make it seem like it was any one person's fault; I know I'm bad at doing romance and don't have a good sense of humor, so my writing has always been about character moments, drama, and angst, which is generally not what people want to read; my only strengths in writing turned out to be my downfall, haha. so I think it's time to move on to projects and fandoms that are better suited to my style and strengths in writing o7

lastly, I've taken down some fics because I got mean comments on them and I'm a sensitive autist. salukes!

[k-germsworld]

another waterbomb fantasy. umji feel so hot before stage, she cant help masturbate with the condom-ed mic secretly, but a tech staff find her and give her some help.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C_VZ7kKvNPU/

Before the water bomb event started, Umji was very excited because she wanted to know how the fans would react when they saw her costume. The thought of this made her very horny. She wanted to find someone to help her but couldn't find anyone so she had to go to a small empty room. Inside, she put a condom-like thing on the microphone in her hand and stuffed it into her wet pussy. She moved the microphone in and out, causing her to moan. The sensation was very good. Her moans were a bit loud, so they attracted a technician. The technician followed the sound to the small room where Umji was staying. The technician opened the door and found Umji concentrating on masturbating with the microphone and rubbing her breasts with her hands. She had no idea that the technician had come in. The technician got an erection watching her masturbate. "Do you want me to help you with your needs?" the technician asked.

Umji was startled by the sudden voice and quickly covered her important parts. "Maybe I am better than your microphone." The technician had already taken off his pants and walked in front of her. "It will definitely be better than my microphone." After saying that, she immediately put the dick in her mouth. The technician pressed her head so that his dick could feel the temperature of her mouth until she patted his thigh. "Time is running out, hurry up." The time to go on stage was getting closer and closer, and Umji had to quickly let the technician put it in her pussy. When his cock was inside her pussy she moaned. "Your cock is so much better than the microphone." Then the technician started to pump her hard and she could only moan. Soon the technician ejaculated inside Umji. Time was running out so Umji had to quickly put her clothes on and leave the room. Before leaving she told the technician to do it a few more times after her performance. Umji made it to the stage and enjoyed it. Because there was so much water on the stage, no one noticed that there was still some semen on Umji's legs.

[heartz4shauna]

yellowjackets during exam season headcanons!

characters featured: shauna, taissa, misty, jackie, natalie, laura lee, lottie, van.

a/n: currently doing exams right now so i’m writing this to make myself feel better lol 💔 also haven’t written in a few months so these are quite shit but whatever #Yolo

shauna : doesn’t study at the start of the school year, but during the lead up to exams she studies for at least three hours a week. mostly studies so her mom doesn’t get mad at her. she hates cramming because it stresses her out so bad, so she tries to study as consistently as possible. ends up with pretty good grades even if she doesn’t study

taissa : studies everyday, even if only for a few minutes. she’s the most consistent out of all the yellowjackets. her writing is always so neat and pristine, uses multiple highlighters and underlines important notes. she’s always asked for study tips. and she doesn’t know how to give them, she just gets her head down (but always helps van when help is needed). always has good grades

misty : she has faith in her own smarts so she leaves studying until the day before, and then she’s crying at her desk because she has no idea what she’s doing. writes down everything she knows on her exam paper just as it starts so she can look back and forth. has a ton of novelty pens but usually writes with a regular ball point pen. post-it notes are her best friend. her grades never end up being bad, but she says she can do better

jackie : doesn’t study a lot, but knows most topics off by heart anyway. she never has any equipment for math and gets in trouble for asking someone next to her for a ruler. however long the exam may be, she makes sure to be their the entire time, partially because her mom gets annoyed when she comes home early and because one of her teachers who she has a crush on told her that it’s better if you stay for the full time. takes extra french lessons with lottie. pretty good grades for someone who doesn’t study

natalie : doesn’t study and leaves everything until the last minute. for the last hour until the exam starts, she’s in the bathroom looking over her scribbled down notes as quickly as possible. her work ethic isn’t great and has to take other’s notebooks to look over. takes the longest cig breaks. surprisingly gets alright grades, but they’re never acknowledged

laura lee : studies for a few hours after church every week, but uses her lunch hour to read in the library. writes all of her notes in composition notebooks with her name written in big bold letters so everyone knows that it’s hers. tells everyone on the team that she’ll pray for them in hopes they’ll get good results. almost always fails science

lottie : studies a lot to take her mind off things. she never really bothers to make her notes looks pretty unless it’s on an assignment. usually studies late at night, so that no one disturbs her. her main form of study is mindmaps. doesn’t really suck that bad at french and usually studies by herself, but goes with jackie anyway so she doesn’t feel alone. her dad pressures her into studying and getting good grades, so she does.

van : didn’t really study until she started going out with taissa, so she tries to impress her. goes to taissa’s house a couple times a week to hang out, and study if needed. uses all of taissa’s highlighters and draws smiley faces all over everything. takes down notes for nat so she can get them at soccer practice. her favourite subject is history, so she rarely studies for it but she’s still the teachers favourite. very rarely gets A’s but she tries her best

for @slushyslurpee because. well. we’re going through it 😅

[onyx-brimmstone]

Unfinished Ren Comfort Fic

Word Count: 1,259 Warnings: Idek lmao

Btw, this was written MONTHS ago, back in February, then I lost motivation to write it :3

Opening: Angel getting to work? - Angel is definitely traumatized from their previous partner - Ren knows? Got rid of them, but they’d already done quite a bit of damage to Angel -Angel’s parents are unaware of the abuse

“Angel? Did you still wanna go w’me to the store later?” Ren was still on his bike, helmet resting on the gas tank as he watched the person of his dreams, his desires, his obsessions.

“Huh..? Oh- yeah, of course! What’re we havin for dinner again?” They’d been spacing out more than usual, struggling to stay focused on things, responding slower. It was obvious they were struggling but they wouldn’t tell anyone what was wrong, not even Moth knew. “I gotta go clock in.. I’ll see you later..”

Ren watched as his Angel went into the library, he waited awhile before putting his helmet back on. He’d probably stick around the area while he waited for them to get done with work, maybe bring them a snack or coffee later on.

They did their work on auto pilot, Elanor would catch them just staring off into space, she was worried for her colleague. Conan pulled them aside at some point, asking if they were alright, though seeing their thousand yard stare he ultimately decided to have them leave work early. They called Ren, who of course picked up on the first ring, he usually did.

“Ren..? Uh.. could you come pick me up? I left work early..” They were quieter than usual as they spoke, pacing the sidewalk slowly, picking at a scab on their collarbone.

“Of course Angel, I’ll be there in a few minutes.. But are you okay?” He’d been right around the corner, sitting at a cafe while he played some random mobile games. While he got up and went to his bike they responded, a quiet ‘yes’ was all they could muster before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. They paced around slowly, still picking at the scab on their collarbone, though the actual scab was long gone, small specks of blood had beaded in the most center part of the small wound.

It didn’t take Ren longer than a couple minutes to get to the library, he called out to Angel but they didn’t notice for a moment, lost in thought until he called for them again. Once they registered who it was they walked over and put their helmet on, Ren adjusting the straps as usual before they got onto the motorcycle. He wouldn’t go until he was sure Angel was feeling secure on the bike.

Ren was keeping an eye on Angel as they walked through the store together, noting how quiet and withdrawn they were, it was so unlike them. His heart ached, wanting to help them, make them smile again.. They continued through the store just as quiet, it’d been nearly two years since they left, two years since they realized they couldn’t stay. It was terrifying to leave, they’d been on edge the whole time, only taking the most important things.

God.. how had it already been two years? What had they even been doing..? They couldn’t remember a lot of it, so many things had happened, and they’d reunited with some friends- met new ones.. They’d met Ren.. he was so sweet, definitely a change of pace.. They didn’t even realize they’d gotten done with the store and gone back to Ren’s apartment, which truthfully had basically become theirs too, given how much time they’d been spending there. They watched as Ren went to the kitchen, putting groceries away.. What had he said before? Something about food.. Dinner? Was he making dinner? They went to the kitchen, wanting to help, they should help with dinner.. Right?

“Angel? Did you need something?” He watched them, they were clearly spaced out as they shook their head and grabbed a pan out to cook up what they were gonna have for dinner.. What were they having?

“What.. what are we having for dinner again..? I.. I can’t remember.. I’m sorry..” They felt guilt wash over them, how could they forget something so simple? Ren sighed a bit and stepped towards Angel, though they flinched back a bit, they hadn’t done that for awhile.

“Angel- it’s okay.. I’m not gonna do anythin t’you.. We haven’t decided on dinner yet..” He offered a hand, hoping they’d take it, hoping they’d confide in him their worries and troubles. His hopes were short lived though as they gave a reassuring smile.

“Right- so.. How about uh..” They looked at the groceries, thinking, racking their brain for ideas on dinner. They couldn’t think, memories and emotions clouding their head, it’d been so sudden to them that they felt this way, but it’s been building for weeks, they just didn’t notice. Ren did though, he saw the way they began to jump at small sounds, look over their shoulder in public, the way they began walking around quieter, closing the doors as quietly as possible. He was trying to help them but it wasn’t really doing much, and somehow he knew pushing it would make it worse, perhaps it was from all the stalking he did, but who knows?

“I uh- I-I gotta use the bathroom- I’ll be back-” They stepped back before turning on their heel and going to the bathroom, vision beginning to blur as they went, tears welling in their eyes while they closed the door. They didn’t even bother with the lights, it was dark, and the dark was safer. They slid down the wall, head in their hands as they began breathing faster, though everything else felt slow, they could hear their heart pounding in their head as their ears rang. They clutched their shirt, trying to catch their breath, though it seemed like an impossible task. Their lungs wouldn’t fill, they kept trying, breathing faster as tears began falling. The seconds felt like hours, their muscles hurt, and their chest strung as their nails dug into it through their shirt. Words echoed in their ears, screams of anger, the sounds of dishes being thrown and broken. They clamped their hand over their mouth, muffling whatever noises they’d been making, fear ripping through them like a wolf killing it’s prey. How long had they been in the bathroom? They had no clue, but they couldn’t move, no matter how hard they’d try, they couldn’t move.

Eventually though, there was a small knock at the door, and their eyes snapped to it, their heart beat faster, and they tried to stay quiet, they couldn’t be heard.. Right? They scooted away from the door, they were tempted to go under the sink, though it was close to the door.. It was the safest thing for now. It didn’t take long for the door to slowly open, Ren peeking into the dark room, trying to figure out where they were.

“Angel..? What’s going on..? Are you okay?” He stepped in, looking around before looking under the sink, his eyes were soft, though it was hard to see with the limited light level. They were frozen, tears rolling down their cheeks, hand clamped over their mouth. Ren slowly reached for them, and they flinched away, turning their head away as if bracing for impact.

“Oh- Angel.. I- I won’t hurt you- I just wanna help..” He spoke slower, not squishing his words together, he didn’t want to startle them. It took awhile of just sitting quietly in the dark before they moved, they very slowly looked at Ren,

[acosmicbee]

Hiii, you don't have to answer this at all, but I see the ask about food insecure reader, and I was wondering how the other yanderes would react.I get this can something that can take a long while so I totally understand if you don't wanna do this!

I'm gonna pick a few of the yanderes I feel haven't gotten a lot of attention for this!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Andre (Little Dancer)

At first he probably excuses it as you just trying to maintain your diet. Being a dancer is hard work after all and it's important to stay within a certain weight range in order to be one.

However, the second he notices that it isn't diet related or it's too restrictive he's shutting it down. He'll manipulate and threaten you into eating regularly, even if you really don't want to.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

The Hartshorn Family (Black Sheep)

After being accepted into the family, reader is required to attend all meals with them which means they notice very quickly if you aren't eating. I think theres a mixed reaction throughout the family depending on who you talk to.

Colton and Calista don't understand why their parents won't just force you to eat. They think that making you eat is the solution and get upset when Dominic and Bronwyn don't make you.

Instead, similar to Sheriff Hayes, they'll provide a mini-fridge and small storage area for any 'safe' snacks you have for yourself. That way at least you're eating something, even if it's small. Andy, being a child, doesn't really understand why you aren't eating but he doesn't care that much.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Father, Aspen and Micah (Spirit World)

Assuming this is after your change from a human to a spirit, they probably attribute it to trauma from eating the food without knowing how it would change you.

Father mostly coaxes you to eat small things, like broth, and promises rewards if you comply. Micah, despite being more heavy handed, gets worried when he isn't sure if you've eaten or not and will regularly check in on you to make sure you've ate something. Aspen doesn't get it at all and chalks it up to you wanting something different then what they have. Expect to be dragged through the restaurant district regularly while Aspen tries to tempt you with different foods.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Neglectful Hero Team (Rookie)

Yeah good luck with that. They will put a feeding tube down your throat in the name of 'protecting you'.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Finn and Julian (Heart of the Sea)

They're mainly worried about the fact that you might get scurvy then anything else. Expect to be drinking a lot of lemon water and having oranges for a snack anytime you do want one.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

[conspiracy-of-ravens-and-claws]

DELTARUNE CH 3 & 4 SPOILERS YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Edit: please feel free to yap in the comments! Let me know your theories or if you have anything to add on to my theories! Yippee!

The prophecy. I’ve been thinking about the end of the prophecy since finishing ch 4. And I have a few theories as to what Susie saw (and what Ralsei didn’t want us to see).

1) Very common theory that it’s about Kris betraying them. We know now that Kris is working with Carol and also potentially the knight (considering that Kris gets let into the shelter at the end of ch 3 (if I remember correctly). We don’t yet know why Carol is involved, but we do know she has a code to the shelter (the one in December Holiday’s guitar). It’s implied that the person Kris calls when we (the player aka the soul) are outside of Kris is Carol, as she immediately comes over to stop Susie from seeing the code (regardless if you’re doing the weird route or not, Susie still sees the code). We know that the soul (aka us the player) and Kris are separate entities, and there are things that get hidden from us. So it’s entirely possible that what Susie saw was that she and Ralsei will have to fight Kris.

1.5) the player’s soul will enter Susie and we will play as her to fight Kris. I don’t really know where this comes from, I’ll be real. I doubt that we will be playing as Kris fighting Susie and Ralsei when the time comes. Plus, Susie was bleeding after punching the glass prophecy thing. Who else bleeds? Humans and Sans. Sans is the ONLY monster that BLEEDS. All of the other monsters just turn to dust. I don’t really know what this means rn. But I know it’s important. We haven’t seen another monster bleed before. Maybe it has something to do with Determination? I’m not sure. Please correct me on this. But the fact that Susie bleeds is so interesting to me.

2) Susie dies. Pretty drastic theory, I know. But whatever the end of the prophecy was, it basically caused Ralsei to have a breakdown when he realized that Susie was going to see it. That felt like a pretty drastic reaction to whatever the end of the prophecy says. It could be the reason why, after this point, Susie gets a bit distant. She says things like “I won’t allow that to happen. We won’t allow that to happen.” And why she could be sticking around at the Dreemurr house after she decided not to stay the night. We’ve seen Susie getting closer and closer to Kris and the people around her, especially with Noelle. It wouldn’t surprise me if that would be to get to know her before absolutely DESTROYING our hearts. I, for one, LOVE Susie, and I would be devastated if she died. But knowing how she is and how she’s developed, she wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice herself if it meant saving the world. So to clarify, I think the prophecy might say that Susie will have to sacrifice herself in order to save the world. Especially when the prophecy starts focusing on her specifically for a moment during the chapter.

Counter point: Susie could be saying “we won’t allow that to happen” to reference theory 1. As in “we won’t allow Kris to turn on us” or something along those lines. I could definitely see that be the reason she says this.

Edit: Counter Point 2: it’s entirely possible that “the girl” referenced in the prophecy isn’t Susie. I’ve seen a theory that it’s possible that the prophecy is about a different 3 person group.

Counter Point to Counter Point 2: This could go along with the theory I have about us, the player, getting transferred into Susie’s body since “the girl” has a heart on her chest and she’s holding a sword.

It’s possible that Susie might use a sword after the player (the heart) gets transferred to her since that was Kris’ weapon of choice in the dark world. Honestly, that was my first thought when I saw that part of the prophecy. I was like “If this is Susie, why is there a heart and why is she holding what looks to be a sword?”

Edit 3: Continuing off of the “Susie Bleeds” section: after reading up on a few theories for why Sans bleeds in the genocide run, I have a continuation for the theory. It’s entirely possible that the “blood” is actually like… liquid Determination. The thing that Sans, Susie, and us (the heart/player) have in common is the color RED. This could be why Sans, in both Undertale AND Deltarune, remembers SAVEs and alternate timelines. We know that in Undertale, Frisk is the only one who is able to persist after death, which Kris is also capable of doing. So what does this have to do with Susie? Well, it would support my theory that the player will end up using Susie as a vessel and not Kris. Susie can bleed, and if we run off of the assumption that this “blood” is actually Determination, it’s possible she would be able to handle having a human soul filled with Determination inside of her. And yes, before you tell me that Deltarune is an alternate universe of Undertale and we probably can’t rely too much on stuff in Undertale, you’re absolutely right and I agree. But Deltarune is still an ALTERNATE universe, meaning it is likely possible that some rules stay the same in both universes. This is a bit of a “hear me out”, especially if you don’t believe in using ANYTHING from Undertale to justify things in Deltarune. Just keep in mind that Toby thought of Deltarune first BEFORE Undertale, and it’s entirely possible this was an idea used for both games.

Edit 4: I realized that the part with the heart on the girl in the prophecy also mentions love. And if we go off of undertale, LOVE or LV is what you get from killing monsters… WHICH COULD MEAN NOTHING. Honestly don’t know where I’m going with this tbh.

Please I need someone to yap about this with so I’m not crazy.

[funeralprocession]

#1, I wrote a thing... This is weird, self-posting without sticking a Nagito sprite on it but I'll endure, probably.

I'm not sure how often I'll write, probably not very? And this is actually the second Oumaeda thing I wrote (the first one isn't getting posted, it's not terrible (like, in terms of the subject matter, it wasn't scary or anything) but it was exceptionally low-effort as well as being overtly smutty).

For the record, everybody in dangan is an adult to me. Just putting that out there, short, annoying adults are still adults, even if you find them annoying (and short) XD!!

The first story is referenced in this one a few times, but the important things to know about it are: - Kichi was deliberately staying close to Nagito, testing him to see if he was going to get bothered enough to leave - He was doing everything in his power to force him away if he was going to go - It didn't work XD!! Nagito is slightly out of character (here and in the first one); we (Skyler and I) figure Nagito would be incredibly unfamiliar with someone showing him that type of attention... Not just hanging around him a lot, but when Kichi started being aggressively flirtatious, that was new and he didn't know what was happening, essentially. He's not normally this nervous, but he didn't have anyone showing him that type of attention prior.

Anyway, here's the thing, if you're reading this right now it means I actually posted it XD!!! (I'll also be colour-coding their speech, since I didn't always denote which the speaker was, hopefully that won't be too distracting or whatever.)

- - -

"Ask me something," Kichi commanded; his tone was friendly but it wasn't a request. "Aww, I couldn't do that," Nagito complained and averted his eyes, "Scum like me has no right to ask anything of you." "I'll answer whatever you wanna know," Kichi responded playfully, knowing his response might be a lie but electing to leave that part off.

Nagito was equal parts frustrating and intriguing - Kichi couldn't settle on either thing for certain. It was a good thing, of course - Kichi wouldn't get bored with him. He felt like he'd picked an interesting one, and had nothing to regret.

"I do have something," Nagito finally spoke up, his voice calm and cool as usual. "Let's have it." "It's really none of my business…"

Kichi groaned and slumped his shoulders - was Nagito really going to ask about his organization? He was hoping he would ask something more fun than that. He didn't blame him for being curious, of course… After he'd gone digging and found absolutely nothing, that had to be--

"Have you ever kissed anybody before?" Kichi yelped in immediate surprise, "Have I ever what?" "C'mon," Nagito smiled serenely, "I know you'll never tell me anything about your organization. I wouldn't expect you to." "When I told you to ask me something, I was--" Kichi huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and feigning indignance, "We're… Uh…"

He forgot the word. He was so flustered by being asked that question, he forgot the word he wanted. The longer he fixated on it, the more nervous he looked-- This was bad.

"Is that a 'no'?" Nagito was still smiling casually, "Too busy with your leadership responsibilities, huh?" "Y-yeah, busy," Kichi quickly agreed, "I… I'm surprised you would even ask that, it's-- It's not like I have time for that kind of… Whatever! Never wanted to, never needed to! If I wanted to, I definitely could have, though--" "Of course," Nagito nodded slightly.

That tone of voice - Kichi heard it every day for the last several weeks… Or months? He wasn't sure how long it'd been, but he'd heard Nagito speak often and in that very specific way… The reason he couldn't tell whether Nagito was frustrating or intriguing was, in part, because of that voice. The way he expressed himself… The things he said, the way he insulted himself but it felt like his actual target was--

It was intriguing. Kichi decided, it was intriguing. Nagito was an incredibly fascinating individual.

Things had been a little… Not tense, but 'unusual' between them, after the incident, when Kichi was testing Nagito to see if he would finally be pushed away… But it wasn't because Nagito had been avoiding him. Was Kichi feeling… Guilty?

"Hey," Nagito spoke up after a rather lengthy silence, "Are you ok?" "I'm fine!" Kichi responded too quickly, feeling even more embarrassed in an instant.

"Y'know…" Nagito began after another slightly awkward pause, "I'm not judging you, I know you're busy with your organization and all… You're not a loser like me… I haven't kissed anybody before, but that's just what you would expect out of someone like me, isn't it?" "I'm sure you were too busy too," Kichi waved a dismissive hand, "Not everybody has time for… Bullshit, or whatever."

Kichi hated everything he was saying, but he was too flustered to stop and express himself properly. Had he completely lost the upperhand? Everything he was saying and feeling was so awkward and annoying-- Did Nagito know what he was doing? Was it an accident?

"I appreciate the benefit of doubt, but I really wasn't busy at all," Nagito confessed, "I guess I wasn't really trying, but there wouldn't have been any point-- not much, anyway."

Kichi started thinking about that day again… He couldn't stop - something about the discomfort and the conversation was making him think about that time… Feeling Nagito rubbing him… First with his hand, then…

Kichi squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the thoughts out of his mind. "Sorry," Nagito gently apologized; Kichi glanced at him and found he was still smiling faintly. "Sorry for wh--" "I'm sorry for putting that thought in your head," Nagito clarified, "The thought of… Anybody… With me, I'm sure that was disturbing. Sorry you had to see that." "It is not disturbing!" Kichi asserted too quickly once again, "I mean-- It's fine, I wasn't even thinking about that." "You looked troubled. I assumed that was why."

Did… Nagito not remember what happened? Had he really forgotten? Kichi didn't want to ask in case it had completely slipped his mind…

"Guess I've been thinking about things recently," Nagito began, "Stuff I didn't really bother with before, mostly." "Huh? What kinda things?" Kichi straightened his posture; the topic change could prove useful. If Nagito had something on his mind, the distraction might pull Kichi out of the gutter he was suddenly struggling to drag himself out of--

"I have no right to ask, of course--" "Just say it, Nagito!" Kichi complained, "We're friends, right?" "We are?" Kichi furrowed his brow and glanced over, unsure of what that was supposed to mean… Was Nagito saying he didn't think of Kichi as being his friend--

His expression was… Normal. He didn't look upset or bothered in any way. What did that mean?

"Yes," Kichi responded resolutely, forcefully, leaving no alternative, "We're friends." "Ah."

That was how Kichi conducted himself with everyone else: nothing was up for debate. He just took what he wanted. He didn't wait for permission, he didn't ask politely, he took control, he steered, even if they fought back… So why was it so difficult now? What was wrong with Nagito? What about him made Kichi so… Flustered? And why was Kichi enjoying it?

"I like you too," Nagito informed him, "I said that before, but I figured how I felt wouldn't mean anything--" "You remember!" Kichi blurted, "W-what happened, I mean? You remember?" "Of course," Nagito chuckled, "Did you think I forgot?" "I mean, kinda," Kichi slumped his shoulders again, "Since you… I dunno, didn't… Whatever."

He was embarrassing himself again; he couldn't stop.

"That's why I'm here, isn't it? Because you said I'm yours now, you weren't going to let me go?" "Y-yeah," Kichi confirmed, "That was a loyalty test." "Hmm," Nagito glanced at Kichi from the side of his eye, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned in a faint, wry smile.

"Have you done that with many of your associates?" Nagito asked after an uncomfortable silence. "Th-they received specialized-- Ok, fine! No! What do you want me to say?" Nagito chuckled softly and shrugged, "Nothing in particular, we're just having a conversation."

Kichi's face was burning with embarrassment. He couldn't remember anybody ever getting the upperhand over him at any point - if they ever had it, they didn't keep it very long. He had a way to weaseling out of situations, but Nagito had a way of keeping him completely off-balance. He couldn't tell if Nagito was even aware of it-- He must have been. There was no alternative. There was no way it was an accident. Nagito was clever, and constantly besmirching himself was just another tactic - Kichi was sure of it.

"Have you ever heard of the Pocky game?" Nagito asked casually. "Of course!" Kichi sat up straight and pushed his shoulders back, determined to regain his control over everything - himself, the conversation, Nagito, everything. He was fairly certain the feeling he had - that unusual enjoyment, was just because the experience was a new one. No one had ever backed him into a corner before and kept him there. It wasn't boring. (Was that even what Nagito was trying to do? Did he have an angle? Was Kichi getting in his own way?)

"I kinda wanted to do it," Nagito mumbled with a slightly embarrassed shrug, "N-not right now, I mean… Just in general, at some point, but--" "What's wrong?" Kichi grinned and nudged Nagito with his shoulder playfully, "Don't you like me? Am I not good enough~?"

Kichi felt like he was trying too hard but he refused to back down.

"I couldn't," Nagito chuckled, "Someone like me?" "You're not so bad, Nagito," Kichi felt his nervousness dissipating - it really was him getting in his own way. Nagito wasn't doing anything, he was sure of it now, he'd just been imagining--

"Are you sure you want to?" Nagito asked in a somewhat ominous tone, "You seemed kinda distressed before… Are you sure it's ok?" "Oh, that," Kichi waved his hand and grinned, "That was something else, I was thinking about-- Never mind, it's not important." "Ah, I see," Nagito smiled faintly once again, "Good, I was starting to think I was bothering you, maybe you were reconsidering." "Reconsidering?" "What you said before, about how I'm yours now," Nagito reminded him casually, "I was thinking you had regrets, even though I would completely understand if you did." "Nah, you're mine," Kichi nonchalantly asserted, "You just kinda threw me off before, but I'm fine." "You really thought I was going to try to ask about your organization again, huh?" "Nah," Kichi grinned, "You're not boring. You know better." Nagito smiled once again, the silence setting Kichi on edge immediately.

Something about silence from Nagito, even when he was smiling, was unnerving. Kichi assumed it was because he was difficult to read and figure out… Which wasn't entirely bad, just nerve-racking.

"What have you done? With another person, I mean," Nagito requested softly after a momentary pause.

Kichi couldn't remember if he'd directly admitted to never having kissed anyone before - why would he do that? Did he lie or not? He couldn't remember!

"Besides what we did with each other, I mean," Nagito clarified after another brief span of quiet, "Sorry, excluding that." "You go first," Kichi grinned mischievously, suddenly realizing he couldn't lie his way out of the situation at hand. "Ah, that was my first time," Nagito replied modestly, "Not a surprise, I'm sure… I… Doubt it was even any good, I didn't know what I was doing…"

Thinking about that event again--

"Ha," Kichi chuckled breathily, then barely managed to regain composure, "Y-you weren't bad." "Do you have any Pocky around here? I noticed… Sorry for paying attention but I noticed you like sweets." "You're allowed to notice things, Nagito. In fact, that's a good quality to have in a servant." "Servant?" "Well, yeah," Kichi adjusted his tone, pretending to get impatient, as if the matter was an obvious one, "You're my servant now, what did you think I meant when I said you belonged to me?" "Oh, aha," Nagito chuckled softly, "That makes sense." "I could send you to go get some for us-- some Pocky, I mean," Kichi rambled, attempting to maintain the illusion that he had secured control, "But there's no rush. We can do that any time." "That's true," Nagito nodded slightly in agreement.

He was struggling. He didn't want to let Nagito out of his sight. He didn't want to have to wait for several frustrating minutes - or longer, if Nagito got held up somewhere, if someone pulled him aside and started talking to him… He liked the idea of having the game as a cover, but he couldn't possibly wait that long. He wished he'd had some on-hand but it was obviously too late, it would do no good to stew about it.

"I just decided, we don't need it," Kichi stated firmly, "U-unless you would rather have it…" "Huh?" Nagito blinked, "You actually want my input?" "Why wouldn't I?" "Because I'm just a servant," Nagito stated simply, as if the answer was obvious, "Surely you wouldn't require feedback from me." "Will you stop that," Kichi huffed, "Why are you this way? Who hurt you, Nagito?"

Nagito was silent for a moment, which was strangely disturbing.

"Are you actually asking?" "Of course," Kichi responded quickly, "Did something happen to you?" "People just don't really care how I feel about things," Nagito shrugged passively, "It's not important." "It's important to me, I care about how you feel!" Kichi insisted, "Y'know, I might be annoying and pushy but I'm not mean - ok, I am but I'm not mean all the time." "You're not," Nagito confirmed, "You're not any of those things." "Call me 'master'," Kichi turned his nose up and smirked, suddenly deciding his mission was to push Nagito out of his self-hating comfort zone, beginning with forcing him to address Kichi using an embarrassingly respectful title. Surely he would fight back - maybe.

"Ok, master," Nagito nodded without any hesitation; Kichi felt like someone punched him in the stomach as soon as he heard those words. "Hey!" Kichi objected without delay, "You're supposed to-- I mean--!" "What's the problem, master?" Nagito asked serenely, "I'm your servant, and that sounded like an order." "You're too agreeable," Kichi complained, "You were supposed to get mad, you were supposed to be offended!" Nagito shrugged passively once again, completely unphased by the command he'd been given.

So maybe the self-deprecating 'facade' wasn't a facade at all. Perhaps Nagito really was like that? And the way he spoke was genuinely how he felt?

"Are you messin' with me?" Kichi demanded, "You have to tell me if this is a joke!" "Sorry, I'm not the best at jokes. My reputation precedes me in a lot of ways, but that isn't one of the things I'm known for."

It was uncharted territory - most of the time, people fought back against Kichi and his attempts to control situations and conversations. He actually preferred it, since it was a challenge to eventually get them to fall in line via any means necessary. Not violence, of course, but trickery and lies - the fun ways. He thought it was funny when people would lash out at him using violence; they were so bothered by his behaviour, they resorted to their baser instincts. It was funny, but also boring - it was predictable and they were being so normal.

"I want you to…" Kichi began his next command, feeling like he could have more fun with Nagito than expected. Nagito waited for Kichi to locate his words, showing absolutely no signs of distress, just like he hadn't before.

When Kichi was following him closely, tugging him around by his elbow, even shoving his hands into Nagito's pockets just to see how far he could be pushed before he began to push back… Nagito was completely unphased by it all. He was either incredibly patient? More-so than anyone Kichi had ever met? Or he might have been enjoying someone wanting to be around him.

"I want you to teach me how to kiss," Kichi grinned triumphantly, "With tongue, that's an order." "Wh-what?" Nagito stammered, "I told you, I don't know how--!" "Too bad, that was an order!" Kichi grinned even more, "Also, don't forget to call me 'master'!" "This is an impossible request, master, I'm sorry--" "It's not impossible, you're just being a quitter!" Kichi complained, "I gave you a task, now do it, Nagito!" "Ha," Nagito chuckled and brushed his hair away from his eyes, only for it to fall right back into place.

'Pleasepleasepleaseplease,' Kichi was silently pleading, begging Nagito would actually attempt to follow orders. He discovered he didn't want to issue commands and take charge - not all the time, anyway. How could he get Nagito to give him what he wanted without commanding him?

"C'mon, Nagito," Kichi whined, "I need you." "Huh?" "Yeah, I was too busy with my organization before, not like I can just… Y'know?" "Hmm," Nagito's gaze softened; it wasn't that he had been upset, but slightly concerned with the task he'd been assigned. "You asking me if I ever… It made me realize that I kinda missed out? And I don't like that," Kichi explained, "I mean, I don't like that I missed out, you asking me things is fine. Sorta, depending on what you're asking."

"Am I gonna get in trouble if I teach you poorly?" Nagito asked after a momentary silence, "I mean, I would deserve it but I did warn you, I don't know how--" "Nah, you won't get in trouble," Kichi asserted firmly and waved a dismissive hand.

Something was wrong… Even if Nagito did what he was commanded to do--

"I want you to teach me as if you already know what you're doing," Kichi clarified. "That's impossible!" "'That's impossible, ~master~'," Kichi corrected mischievously, "And it's not! You're just being obstinate!" "You're being obstinate!" Nagito argued before shrinking back, "Ah! S-sorry!" "No, do that!" Kichi asserted sternly, "Tell me I'm being annoying, I am being annoying! I'm getting on your nerves! Tell me off!" "I don't know what you want!" Nagito fretted, "This doesn't make any sense, master." "Sure it does, you're just afraid of making a mistake, and you're not making one," Kichi assured him, feeling an odd sense of deja-vu from the time before, "I'm not setting you up, you won't get in trouble."

There was something absurd about everything that was going on. Kichi still wasn't entirely convinced Nagito's self-loathing wasn't an act and yet there he was, trying to force him to stop. Was it possible? Was this going to be the thing that forced Nagito away? The realization hit Kichi like an ice cold tidal wave. 'Oh no.'

Before he could fully regain control of his senses, he was suddenly laying on his back with a pair of greyish eyes staring down at him behind a lock of fluffy white hair. "N-Nagito?" Kichi asked timidly. "Is there a problem, master? Didn't you tell me you wanted me to teach you how to kiss?" "Y-yes!" Kichi agreed in an instant, suddenly self-conscious about how over-eager he sounded.

"Can I sit up?" Kichi whined, attempting to disguise his eagerness from a moment before, "This is weird. Why are you on top of me?" "I want your full attention," Nagito cooed, "And this way, I have it. Master." "Ha," Kichi panted, finding he was already getting excited despite how nothing happened yet.

"I can't… N-Nagito," Kichi attempted to close his knees but Nagito was kneeling between them, "H-hey." "What's wrong, master?" Nagito asked, his tone somewhat gleeful, "Did you need something before we start?"

Kichi wasn't sure if Nagito was just that good at feigning confidence, or if this was proof that his normal demeanor was false. It didn't matter, it didn't change what was happening.

"Can… Can you please move?" Kichi asked meekly, "I can't… Uh…" "Sorry, I can't," Nagito responded calmly, leaning in a little closer and gently pinching Kichi's chin between his thumb and forefinger, "It's part of the lesson. I don't want you closing your legs." "Ha, fuck," Kichi panted before regaining control over himself and whining, "Th-that wasn't part of it!" "Would you like to call it off? Master?"

Was that what was going on? Nagito was attempting to force Kichi's hand, make him rescind the order so he wouldn't be forced to fulfill the obligation?"

"No!" Kichi asserted, "Teach me how to kiss! Let's see how good you are, I don't even need to close my legs, I'm not uncomfortable at all!" Nagito chuckled softly, "I don't believe you, sorry."

It was always fun when people obeyed Kichi's commands - but it was also fun when they reacted with force and hostility, refusing to follow his orders. This was… Even more fun than both of those things combined.

"Let's go, I'm waiting~" Kichi grinned, clasping his hands over his abdomen, doing his best to appear casual while he was stuck laying on his back. Nagito caressed Kichi's cheek very softly with his fingertips; Kichi's grin disappeared. Nagito was studying his lips for a moment before glancing back up, looking Kichi in the eye. "Stick your tongue out," Nagito ordered very softly. "Huh?" Without responding aloud, Nagito leaned in and gently licked Kichi's bottom lip, slipping his tongue inside without delay; Kichi eagerly cooperated and carefully adjusted his posture as Nagito laid down on top of him.

Kichi realized he'd never wanted to before? He didn't know why… But he never wanted to, with anyone. He wasn't sure if he regretted that - never even considering it at any point, or if that was speaking for itself: no one was ever interesting enough to him, apparently--

"Ha," Kichi panted, grasping onto Nagito's arms in an involuntary bid to keep him from pulling away. "This lesson's a pretty bad one, huh?" Nagito smirked faintly, his breath tickling Kichi's neck, "Not sure what I'm doing here." "Y-yeah," Kichi agreed, unsure what he was agreeing with, just that he didn't want to argue about it, wanting Nagito to continue as quickly as possible.

It was one of the few times he had nothing to say - or rather, didn't want to have a discussion.

"Why are you breathing so hard, master?" Nagito teased quietly, "Are you ok? Do you need something?" "I'm fine!" Kichi asserted, flustered, "Whatever!" "I dunno," Nagito continued, supporting himself by leaning on his left elbow, delicately caressing Kichi's cheek with his right thumb again, "You were making some noises…" "I said I'm fine!" Kichi insisted, unable to explain something he couldn't even remember doing. "You sure?" "Yes!" "Well, if you say so… Just kinda sounded to me like… Maybe I just got your dirty-voice out of you, but we weren't even doing anything yet… I heard it before, you know."

Kichi was blushing hard - he couldn't lie about that, either. He'd completely lost control of himself before; Nagito had him at a couple of distinct disadvantages.

"I'm sure I'm making a mistake," Nagito cooed softly, "Imagine… Someone like me? Getting that type of reaction out of you when I've barely even done anything at all~? That would be so embarrassing for you, huh?"

Before Kichi could respond in any way, Nagito leaned back in, a little more forceful that time, initiating a new kiss that Kichi eagerly participated in. He attempted to covertly slip his hand down between his legs and rub himself as he was getting uncomfortably hard, but Nagito pulled his hand away and pinned it onto the bed by his wrist. "Nope," Nagito smirked, "Sorry, master." "Hey!" Kichi huffed, "That wasn't part of it! You were supposed to teach me to kiss, there was never anything about I'm not allowed to jerk off!" "It was implied," Nagito responded casually, his voice as calm as ever, "I'm not done with you yet, so you're not allowed." Kichi whimpered pathetically and attempted to sit up enough to initiate a kiss on his own; Nagito obliged, laying him back down immediately without separating from his captive.

- - -

That's it, sorry about the abrupt ending but that was all I wrote on that one, it was just going to get worse anyway XD!!

[dinerdweller]

That's when I fell for ── .✦ the leader of the pack

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

°˖➴ Rough bars were dotted all over Tulsa, and this one should be no different. Apart from these 7 boys who seemed to be regulars there with slicked hair and handmade bikes from old scrap material that seemed to live outside the packed place.

⟢ bikeriders! au for The Outsiders

⟢ The timeline starts in 1965, still taking place in Tulsa. I do not know much about motorbikes but I'll do my best!!

̗̀➛ main masterlist | rules

°˖➴ content warnings : violence [cannon typical] , mentions of sex , smoking & alcohol use and swearing . For every story , I will write the warnings, so any not listed here will be named .

CAST

the gang

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Darrel Curtis - the stoic one

ꪆৎ Barely leaving the pool table, Darrel was always hanging around when he wasn't working. The only one here who seemed to have a job, his bike was usually on the back burner. But when he could finally get away, he really let free.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Two-bit Matthews - the jokester

ꪆৎ With a beer always in his hand, Two-bit knew everything about everyone in this place due to his overly friendly demeanour and nosey behaviour. His friends and bike were his passions, the alcohol was just there to fill the time.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Dallas Winston - the wild one

ꪆৎ Never seen away from a cloud of smoke, Dallas was the one to 'crack up' on his bike. The police trailing him and a courtroom being his second home seemed to only fuel his cocky nature.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Steve Randle - the mechanic

ꪆৎ The most important member of the gang, Steve seemed to be an unsung hero in ways. The one who would gather the parts, put them together and do free repairs for his buddies. That's just what friends do.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Sodapop Curtis - the movie star

ꪆৎ Handsome, charming and a bundle of fun, Sodapop always had a lemonade in hand and energy buzzing of him.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Johnny Cade - the quiet one

ꪆৎ Not being one for words, Johnny just hangs about for drinks and shelter. Once you get to know him, turns out there is a lot more to him than you originally think

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Ponyboy Curtis - the baby

ꪆৎ Only being let in because of his brothers, Ponyboy can barely even clean a bike, never mind riding one. But he is slowly learning, thank god for his friends.

Readers

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Photographer! reader

ꪆৎ Born and raised in Tulsa, you had always stayed away from these parts of town. But, when the final project for your photography class comes around, maybe it's time to see what really happens at these clubs.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Visitor! reader

ꪆৎ Visiting family was boring. Especially in a place where you had no friends. So, seeking some type of thrill, you spot a dingy bar with a row of motorbikes outside, and this seems like the perfect place.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Schoolfriend! reader

ꪆৎ The only girl brave enough to be seen talking to a greaser, Ponyboy had taken a shine to you. And when he invites you around to a bar to hang out with him and his friends, it seems like a good place to really understand what the other side gets up to. Especially when you start to become a regular...

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Interview! reader

ꪆৎ You get interviewed for the photographers book, its finally time to share your perspective.

Special Guests

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ Cherry Valance & Marcia Meyrink - the bar girls

ꪆৎ Two best friends who wanted to work together, harmless, right? Or maybe it was where they were working, searching for some excitement away from their nice homes and rich boyfriends. Working the bar isn't the only thing they get up to, how could they pass up a quick ride?

ˋ°•*⁀➷ check out the playlist for this au!! Most of the songs are time accurate, a few may be a couple years out from the timeline {ends about 1973}

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

I'm sorry I hurt you ── .✦ the leader of the pack

[blueshistorysims]

Kit’s thirteenth birthday passed soon enough, meaning his bar mitzvah’s arrival was even closer. He hadn’t realized how nerve-racking it was to read the Torah in front of the entire congregation, praying he would mess up his Hebrew. The party hosted by his aunt later was his consolation prize. 

Miranda came all the way from Edinburgh, bringing her partner Indira. Both of them admitted they were missing an exam for the occasion, but they couldn’t not come to one of the most important events in Kit’s life. Amalia was delighted to see her closest (only) friend, dragging her away from Indira, where she spent the entire party complaining about her life. Miranda seemingly forgot about her girlfriend, who looked blatantly annoyed.

“Kit’s getting quite good at dress design. I’ve had customers ask for his designs, completely unaware they’re picking a design by a twelve-year-old boy,” Giselle mused.

Byron smiled. “Do you tell them?”

“No, though I am very tempted sometimes.” She sighed. “I want him to take over the company. I’d rather it stay in the family, and if he continues the path he’s on now, he might end up more renowned than I am.”

“He’s still my heir, Giselle.”

“If you truly didn’t care about your title like you claim to, you would hire people to run the estate and responsibilities of the title. Now, I do plan to retire, so he’ll have a few years before you croak.”

Byron chuckled.

Kit, conveniently overhearing all this, was pleased by his aunt’s words to his father. He was going to take over his aunt’s company when he was older!  

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