#i purposely avoid putting returning characters in the same spot they were in last time LMAO

[blossyossyossy]

Another year, another favorite character bingo

2023 Version

[httpsserene]

summer 'twenty-two — 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 & 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 poly! carlos sainz jr x lando norris x phd-student! fem!black!reader 18k words. plot with porn. fluff. mild angst. summer romance. explicit sexual content. original side characters (m&f). on my ao3 with extended tags. chapter one; view the sip of sunshine table of contents.

synopsis: carlos and lando were the two reasons you chose to work another summer, and you haven't seen them once.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. i am extremely proud of what i created. i hope it was worth waiting for, and i can't wait for the next chapter!!! my next upload might be an alex albon smau series, for those that requested it. pls pls pls, send me asks and leave comments on this if you'd like! i'd love to hear your thoughts on sip of sunshine, and how it's building so far xxx thank you so much, my loves :) (50 more followers until 3k :o)

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Studying for a doctorate does not directly correlate to a person’s brilliance. If you were smart, you wouldn’t have returned to the golf club for another summer with the sole hope of reuniting with the two stunningly fine men you shared a ten-minute conversation with. However, you chose to beat intelligence in a foot race, and here you are: driving the same beverage cart while sweating off your sunscreen for the fifth year in a row; furthermore, you have not crossed paths with Carlos and Lando once in the two months you’ve been working.

It’s difficult to believe that Lando had told the truth when he mentioned that they’ve been attending Club La Moraleja consistently for the past four years. You want to believe him, but the evidence against him is overwhelming. You’ve worked every possible shift this season, at every possible time, on every possible course, without a single spotting of the duo from the beginning of June. 

It’s August. If you allow yourself to think maniacally, you would infer that they’re avoiding you on purpose.

Previously, you were under the assumption that they were obviously flirting with you. The sexual innuendos, double-entendres, calling you a “sip of sunshine,” and the eighty euro tip Carlos left you (which had to be a mistake)—from which you deduced that they were making a move on you. You would even say that their instance in convincing you to return to the green was the smoking gun you needed to seal their fate in the case of you catching their interest. 

Nonetheless, they are nowhere to be found. 

You cope by entertaining the aspect of you suffering from heat stroke or heat exhaustion, and you created Carlos and Lando as a figment of your delusions during your compromised mental state. On the other hand, there’s also a chance that they took your joking threat—of never returning if you had to put up with their subpar pick-up lines—seriously. You didn’t consider that they would misunderstand your teasing banter but, you haven’t seen them a single time this summer.  

It’s unsettling. You’ve never been this disappointed about men not taking the clear hint. 

Obviously, you’d be relieved if any of the sleazy, rude, and archaic golfers stopped bothering you after their first attempt. But, Carlos and Lando? They’re the exact opposite of the men you described. They’re young, polite, funny, charming, and attractive. It’s not outlandish for you to say that there was some budding chemistry between you three.

It’s regrettably characteristic of you to develop crushes on men you haven’t shared more than one conversation with. Too bad you’re never going to see them again. And, screw them! Who do they think they are? It’s not like they’re anybody special—they probably delighted in filling your mind with false hope. 

The next time you see them, you’re running them over with the bev cart. All gas, no breaks.

The motor whirs loudly as you drive over a hill to the last hole of Course Four—and, you’ll be damned.

“Well, look at you! You stayed!”

You can’t tell if this is the universe blessing you or sending you a curse in disguise. 

Lando’s words ring in your ears as your brain fails to compute the sight of him and Carlos smiling at you from across the green, down in a bunker. 

Lando’s…matured beautifully, over the year you haven’t seen him. He was attractive before, but as you direct the cart closer, you can tell he’s grown into himself. There’s a broadness to his shoulders, a sharpness to his eyes, and a hollowness to his cheekbones that certainly makes it impossible for anybody to deny that he’s beautiful. 

Carlos is angeringly more handsome than he was before, somehow. You blame it on the backwards cap and his stupidly wide, warm, beautiful, brown eyes. You cut the engine off, scratching fiendishly at the back of your neck to dispel your thoughts about his nose and lips, how you would pay to see his brown eyes darkened between your thighs.

“Obviously,” you state dryly, roughly tucking the curls that slipped from your ponytail behind your ear, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Their grins falter at your biting tone and they glance at each other in surprise at your irritated response. They climb out of the bunker and walk to meet you at the side of the cart. You’ve turned your back to them, hearing their footsteps approach but you continue to mindlessly organize any cups that shifted out of place as you drove.

“It was just an observation,” the Brit continues, you can hear him still smiling around his words, “A conversation starter, I guess.”

You put on an impassive expression before turning around and staring at the two with your arms crossed, “Mm. Who’s the one who’s bad enough at golf to land in the bunker? Wait—don’t tell me! You’re both probably stuck in the sand trap.” 

Lando’s mouth audibly drops open with an insulted gasp and Carlos’s brow furrows in confusion.

You wave a dismissive hand through the air before they can reply, “What do you want to drink?”

“Uh…What?” Carlos fumbles, lost at your deviation.

“What, ‘what?’” You snap, annoyed at his feigned innocence, like he’s unaware that they lead you on for the entirety of a summer that they just appeared in, “What do you want to drink? As in a refreshment? ¿Una bebida? I know you’re familiar with ordering from the cart as I served you last year—and since you both have been coming here for five years!” [A drink?]

The two stare at you in blatant terror as your voice echoes in the air. Their stunned silence at your “unfounded” anger only serves to exasperate you further.

“Make it quick,” your voice trembles infuriatingly, “What would you like to drink?”

“Did we do something wrong? If we upset you, we have no idea what we did,” Carlos rambles pleadingly. You almost buy it.

“Yeah, what’s with the attitude?” Lando gracefully ruins their chances of being acquitted, “We haven’t seen you in nearly a year; What could we have done wrong?”

“Attitude—are you serious!?” You scoff, insulted at the very idea, before continuing mockingly “Whatever—it’s a beer and a lime mocktail, right? Or, would you prefer a sip of sunshine?”

The men don’t have a chance to edit their orders as you sharply throw open the beer cooler, all three of you flinching as the lid slams into the cart and the bottles and cans clamoring together worryingly. You don’t let the fear of damaged property interrupt your fury as you brandish the beer towards Carlos, snatching your hand away as soon as his closes around the neck of the bottle. 

He murmurs his thanks in his native tongue but the curl of his accent—no matter how alluring it sounds—incenses you further, and you huffily turn your back towards them as you craft Lando’s drink.

The thought of them being truthful about their confusion about your annoyance flares in your mind as you shovel ice into the plastic cup. It’s possible that there has been some miscommunication…but, that would be embarrassing for you to admit. You’ve already acted incredibly rude and like a total brat to them—to customers, at that! Ohmygod, you’ve let your personal emotions affect your work; they could report you to your manager and have you fired. 

Your breath stutters as your overcome with a chill that feels like you’ve dumped ice down your own shirt. The drink is quickly assembled, and you find yourself wishing for a painless death as you fasten an orange slice as garnish on the rim of the cup instead of a lime. A slice of sunshine, if you will.

Meekly, this time around, you offer the cup to Lando. He looks increasingly disturbed at the sudden switch of your demeanor. You watch the Brit glance at his companion, his look clearly communicating that he’s checking if Carlos agrees that you’ve lost your mind, most likely.

The Spaniard must have agreed because Lando giggles nervously, the sound glaringly revealing his discomfort, “You didn’t poison my drink, did you?”

Your brain starts to self-destruct in embarrassment. Carlos hides his face in his free hand, but the sound of pain that escapes him at the ill-timed joke is clear. To be fair, Lando looked like he regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, but the damage was done. 

Your cheeks burn furiously, you’re simultaneously angry and disappointed in yourself. How could you allow yourself to become overrun by your emotions on the clock? It’s unprofessional and uncharacteristic of you. 

You excuse yourself shakily, “I-I am so sorry. Perdóname. I was rude to you both for no reason. I apologize sincerely for my behavior. Do not worry about paying, your drinks are on me. I hope you both enjoy yourself on the green—Buenas tardes.” [Forgive me; Good afternoon.]

Carlos and Lando are silent as you scamper into the driver’s seat, tail figuratively tucked between your legs. The ride back to the clubhouse is silent as you berate yourself for your stupidity. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to forget the way you ruined your chances with them. You already know your subconscious will play this on repeat every time you try to sleep. The cart beeps as you reverse into its assigned spot. Isabel, one of the fellow cart girls—and your best friend—waves at you with a smile as she walks over towards you. She must be the next on shift.

“You look like you’ve just been fired,” Isa’s smile has transformed into a look of concern, “¿Estás bien?” [Are you okay?]

Grabbing your belongings, you slide out of the driver's seat with a haunted look in your eyes. “You remember the two guys I told you about? From last summer? I think I just scared them away.”

“No,” Isa exhales in denial, pulling you into a hug, “There’s no way. What happened?”

“I yelled at them and insulted them for being bad at golf,” you mumble, yelping sharply as she  communicates her displeasure by slapping at your arm, “I was mad at them, okay! They were pretending to be innocent, like they had no clue they avoided me for the entire summer! They’re going to complain to the Club and get me fired because I was unprofessional and rude!”

“Ay! You don’t know that! You still served them, and apologized right?” Isa brightens further when you mention you served them for free, she ignores your pout as you rub your hand against the stinging skin of your bicep, “Then, it’s probably nothing. If they do complain, this is your first complaint ever. You won’t get fired—you will just have to wash the carts for the rest of the summer.”

You fall to your knees on the hot concrete in despair and Isa snorts at your dramatics, bending to pluck the cart keys from your pocket. 

“I’m just going to quit, inmediamente!” [Immediately!]

“If you quit, I quit,” Isa reminds you, “And, out of the two of us, I need this job. I’m broke. So, you can’t quit, unless you want me to suffer.”

“I would take care of you,” you beg, “I have my office job back in the States. You could marry me and get a green card! Let me quit!”

Isa cackles at the concept, “You hate your office job. Anyway, quitting won’t save you from your colleagues here. Don’t forget we’re all going out tomorrow night! You can’t escape this time, you promised me.”

You groan in indignation, “Is it a crime to not like clubbing every night?”

“¡Sí, lo es!,” She frowns, “It’s clubbing every night in Madrid! And, I need moral support if I have to watch Lucas flirt with Sofia. I don’t know what he sees in her.” [Yes, it is!]

Grumbling fitfully, you wish her a good shift before dragging yourself into the Clubhouse. You’re still quitting. There’s not a chance in hell that you’re coming back next summer—there is nothing worth staying for anymore. Sorry, Isa.

Out of all the shifts you’ve worked, the 8 A.M. to 3 P.M. is your least favorite. You blink blearily as you hang up your belongings in the same locker you chose four years ago, fighting the urge to rub at your eyes, with the thought of not smearing your mascara. Pinning your nametag on your pressed shirt is muscle memory, and you slide on a club-branded visor to protect your face because the UV index is concerningly high today. 

You pause to stare at the photos pinned to the inside of your locker door—they date from your very first summer till now, with familiar faces and some you haven’t seen in a while. It’s heartwarming. You haven’t posted a single one of these photos in here; your friends do it on their own (the password to your locker is apparently community knowledge—you could change it, but then you’d stop collecting them), taping Polaroids from moments on the course to shenanigans off the course to nights out in the city, with captions and notes written on the back. 

The sense of belonging and community you found here is why it was so difficult to come to a decision about leaving this place and its people behind. Your lips tilt up at a photo of you and the cart team covering your boss’s car in sticky notes two summers ago—he made you all collect the stray golf balls from the putting green that night in retaliation. And, he laughed deeply as the sprinklers drenched all of you, which is another few snapshots commemorated in your locker. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to leave.

“Mami,” Lilia, the receptionist on duty this morning, calls you from the locker room door, “The two really hot Formula One drivers are asking for you?”

You shoot a look of confusion her way, “huh—why me? I don’t know them?”

“Umm, yes you do?” Lilia mirrors your bafflement, “They say you’ve served them before. And that they want to apologize for something?”

“¿Qué?”

“I don’t know! I’m just repeating what they told me—” The brunette woman cuts herself short, and her eyes narrow after a moment, “Hey, if they’re bothering you, I’ll get them banned. I didn’t tell them that you were here, I just said I’d check to see if you had come in. Did they bother you? Don’t lie to me! I’ll call security and get them gone!”

“What, no! I don’t know them, or even know what Formula One is! I haven’t had a bad interaction or served any drivers—oh.” Your stomach sinks as your eyes shut woefully, “I fucked up.”

Lilia threatens to get them banned again when she sees the bronze skin of your face lose its luster. You tell her to let them know you’ll be out in a moment and to not threaten them. You step to the full-length mirror to check your appearance and adjust your uniform. Centering yourself with a few deep breaths, you turn the door handle and make your way out to the reception desk.

The squeaking of your sneakers on the tile floor only adds to your anticipation. A small part of you hopes that Carlos and Lando aren’t the Formula One drivers asking for you, and that this is all some misunderstanding. You feel your soul die inside of you as your eyes meet theirs. Their expressions look determined and apologetic, and your palms feel sweaty as you come to terms with them preparing to file a formal complaint. 

Lilia clears her throat abruptly from where she’s pretending to organize membership files. You see a blush bloom on Carlos and Lando’s cheeks as they realize that they’ve been staring at you without saying anything for longer than what’s politely appropriate, but you beat them to the chase.

“Buenos días. U-umm,” you anxiously scratch at the nape of your neck, “…Is this about yesterday? Or the tip you left last summer? It was too generous to not be an accident. It’s past our refund period, but I can reach out to the manager on duty to see if we can work something out.” [Good morning.]

“I gave you eighty euros on purpose,” Carlos states without doubt, and you feel Lilia’s stare piercing your side profile.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to speak to you about yesterday—”

You cut in, “Yesterday was my fault! I think I misunderstood you both and I overreacted. It was nothing personal—”

Lando clasps his hands together, interrupting you with an imploring tone, “It was personal, though. Which is fine, I think we deserved it. Especially if there was a misunderstanding on our part. We would’ve communicated with you clearer if we were sure that you were on the same page as us. We would appreciate it if you would allow us to make it up to you.”

Lilia kicks your ankle underneath the desk, doing enough freaking out for the both of you as you struggle to keep your face calm.

“I feel like I’m still the one at fault for the miscommunication. But—how were you planning to…smooth things over, I guess?” You ask.

“Allow us to take you to dinner tonight, and explain,” Carlos finishes, weaponizing those eyes of his, helped by Lando softening his own at you desperately for a chance.

“Oh—um, I would love to, really, but I already have plans tonight—,” You’re getting tired of being interrupted, but Lilia is quick to clear your schedule.

“No!” The raven-haired woman jumps up from her seat, slapping her hand on the counter forcefully, causing the three of you to jump. “She’s free tonight!” She smiles scaringly wide at Carlos and Lando.

Lilia turns to you and her smile and voice quiets to something genuine, “I will explain to the others about why you could not make it. Isa will understand as long as you remember to keep us both updated, yes?”

You roll your eyes, resigned , “Yes.”

You’re surprised at the tentative happiness growing in the boys’ appearances, “I guess I can do dinner tonight. What’s the plan?”

Phone numbers are exchanged and they agree to pick you up from your house at seven. They linger through their goodbyes, clearly not wanting to end the conversation. It’s flattering that they're willingly exposing their obsession with you so soon. You shoo them away with the reminder of seeing each other tonight and the fact that you are, in fact, on the clock. Lilia slaps you on the arm repeatedly as you watch them exit through the front doors with a dreamy sigh.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Lilia lets out a scream of excitement and pulls you into a hug, the two of you jumping up and down overwhelmed with joy. You’re caught by your boss Marco, who takes one glance before he turns around to head back into his office, forcing the two of you into hysterical giggles. 

You pull back from her, and you can’t quiet the large grin dancing on your lips, “I have no idea what to wear!”

Carlos texted you twenty minutes ago alerting you that they’re on the way to pick you up. Lando added that they can’t wait to see you a minute later. You were ready thirty minutes before they started heading your way. Ten minutes ago you decided to change your entire outfit. You settled on a linen cropped tank and matching maxi skirt with a pair of sandals. You fiddle with your accessories endlessly, and you do the same with a few stray curls that refuse to sit where you want them.

Grabbing your purse and phone, you rush out of your room and down the stairs to find your parents in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to their own dinner.

“¡Mija—qué bonita!” your mom gasps, wiping her hands on a towel before she pulls you closer to look at you, “Where have you been hiding this outfit?” [My daughter, how beautiful she is!]

“Má, I’ve had it for a while,” you subject yourself to her cooing and prodding as she spins you around, looking at your dad for help, who only offers you a shrug, “—I just have not had anywhere to wear it.”

“Hm? Then, what’s so special about tonight? I thought you were clubbing with your friends, no?” You avoid meeting her prying eyes, pretending to find interest in what’s simmering on the stove.

“Eh, why is there a Ferrari outside of my house?” your dad asks, drawing your attention to the front window. The sleek black convertible is parked by the curb, and your phone buzzes in your hands. Lando has informed you of their arrival, and you quickly tell them you’ll be right out to avoid them coming to the door. You don’t know if they’re “meet the parents” caliber yet, Ferrari or not.

“Don’t worry about it, Papà. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back tonight,” you press kisses to both of your parents’ cheeks, “Save some food for me to take to work tomorrow, please?”

Your mom pinches your ear, “Ay! You are going on a date? Finally! Is he handsome on top of being rich? A Ferrari is okay as long as he is as beautiful as the car, you know?”

Your dad makes a noise of complaint as he follows you both towards the door, “A Ferrari is more than okay as long as he respects you and treats you well. And, if he buys me a Ferrari too—ask him for me.” 

You fuss at them, flustered but smug as you ignore your dad’s request, and you turn to smirk at your mom, “Papà, I plan to find outfit they treat me well tonight. Mamá. They’re both gorgeous.”

Your dad blinks in confusion as your mom crows in delight, “¡Mija! I knew I raised you properly! ¡Vas, vas! Have fun and you have to tell me everything when you get back, yes?” [My girl!; Go, go!]

“Sí, Mamá. ¡Muchos besos, te quiero!” You slip out of the door, the sound of your mother explaining that you’ve garnered the interest of two men to your father fading behind you as you walk to the car. [Yes, mom. Kisses, I love you!]

Carlos and Lando are waiting for you on the curb, the engine purring lowly behind them. Your gait slows as you near, and the Spaniard reaches out to press his lips to the back of your hand fleetingly. 

They’ve dressed well; Lando in a light gray, short-sleeved, collared, v-neck that rests untucked over white chinos and a pair of gray sneakers to match. He’s sprinkled with bracelets, a few of them decorate his toned forearms on both wrists, and there’s a singular silver chain peeking from the cut of his shirt. Carlos is dressed similarly with the white chinos, yet he’s chosen a light blue button-up with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of dress shoes. His outfit is complimented by a dazzling watch. 

You murmur a greeting to both men, unable to hold eye contact with either of them for long. It’s one thing to fantasize that you have a chance with men clearly out of your league, and it’s another thing to have to muster up the confidence to speak to them outside of your uniform. 

Lando impatiently shifts on his feet as the older man keeps hold of your hand for longer than necessary. When you’re released, Lando takes it a step further and pulls you into a hug, his body heated and solid against yours. A shiver runs down your spine when his hand rests on the exposed skin of the small of your back. You hum, pleased as you inhale the velvety scent of his cologne, missing the closeness as he pulls away from you a beat later.

You step back, your heart thudding as you quip, “I didn’t know we were on hugging terms already.”

“I’m sorry,” Lando flushes easily, and Carlos chuckles, “I should’ve asked if it was okay.”

“I liked it,” you smile at him, pretending as if your heart isn’t pounding forcefully from the brief embrace, “I-I mean, it was fine, don’t worry.”

The Brit hums at your response, his eyes drifting along your form before meeting yours again with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. His blush recedes as yours strengthens, now apparent on your darker skin. 

“Lovely house,” he withdraws, and you’re thankful he avoided commenting on the evident flush he invoked with nothing more than a hug and a pass of his eyes.

“Thank you, my parents bought it and moved here after I started university,” you explain needlessly, “They’re pretty great. They were the ones who made me apply for the position at La Moraleja. So, really, it’s them you have to credit with us meeting, I suppose.”

“We also have to thank them for having a beautiful daughter,” Carlos alleges smoothly.

You fluster, “I-I’ll pass the message along. Both of you are very handsome, but I think you guys hear that often.”.

“Don’t worry. It sounds sweeter coming from you,” Lando edits his point with an impish grin, “—and from Carlos too, sometimes.”

“Don’t be a brat, Lando,” the Spaniard’s voice is light as he entertains the younger, “Unfortunately, I think we will be late if we continue to stand here and flirt in the street,” Carlos says, and his eyes shift to look past you and at your house, “—And, I think your dad might come outside and kill us. Which would not be very pleasant, in my opinion.”

You spin around, chagrined at the sight of your dad watching the three of you with a harsh stare. 

“Yes! Let’s get going, I would hate to be late. Ignore him, please.” Lando waves at your dad anyways, endearing himself to you further, “And, you won’t have to worry about being murdered as long as you get him a Ferrari.”

The two men startle into laughter at that, and you hold your hands up candidly, “What? His words, not mine!”

You didn’t account for the oddness of one of you sitting in the backseat, but Lando assigns himself to the back, claiming that you have “passenger princess” rights. 

The wind ruffles through your curls aimlessly as Carlos drives towards your destination. The ride is filled with endless chatter and flirting. A smile is constantly on your face as the three of you speak through topics easily. There’s not a single time you feel like an outsider, even though it’s clear how familiar they are with each other. 

The restaurant you find yourself in isn’t screaming its extravagance at you, which is surprising. While it’s dimly lit, and you can hear live music thrumming through the air from somewhere deeper inside over the lively chatter—it feels like a classic restaurant, intimate and comfortable. Like somewhere you could go for a nice dinner often.

The hostess straightens upwards with recognition when she spots Carlos and she greets the three of you good naturedly before disappearing to check if your table is ready. 

The Spaniard notices the surprise on your face, “My family and I have dined here since I was young. You have never come here before? ”

You shake your head, “I’m a little jealous, if I’m being honest,” Carlos tilts his head, listening, “I’m mad I didn’t discover this place sooner. The atmosphere is amazing!”

The hostess returns, gesturing for you all to follow after her and Lando grasps your hand to catch your attention as you walk, “If you think the vibe is amazing, just wait until you try the food.”

The table is not in direct sight of anyone besides the kitchen, clearly a spot meant for privacy. Your hidden behind a half wall and a screen overgrown with plants, and the volume of the restaurant seems quieter through the barrier. You lean back in your chair as the three of you wrap up the discussion about yesterday’s conflict.

“I feel incredibly stupid now,” you chuckle, embarrassed. The brown skin of your face burns hot. You focus on the empty wine glass in front of you, avoiding their eyes plainly.

“No,” Carlos’s voice is stern, the serious tone shocking you into looking at him, “Do not be rude to yourself—you are not stupid.”

You stare, dumbfounded, reeling as you process the manner in which he shut down your negative self-talk. If his words totally dissolved your mortification over your immature reaction to seeing them again, you might have thought harder about how that was kind of hot of him to do.

“Aren’t you studying for a PhD?” Lando asks rhetorically, “I think that literally means you’re not stupid.”

You scoff lightly—feeling humored instead of humiliated—at how easily he swept away the tension with a light-hearted comment. The Brit doesn’t know how many people have enlightened you with the knowledge that common sense is, unfortunately, uncommon in post-grad. But, you’ll let his words wash away your self-deprecation lest this turns into an unsolicited therapy session instead of a date an apology dinner.

“Fine. I’m not stupid—but, you can’t deny that it wasn’t a little dumb of me to assume that you guys had lied to me about visiting the golf club every year. And, it was a little more dumb of me to make my decision about working here for another season just because there was a chance that I could see you guys—never mind.” Your teeth clack together forcefully as you slam your mouth shut.

The duo straighten up at the sudden end to your sentence, brains quickly filling in the blanks for them. Lando’s poorly attempting to hide his satisfied smile behind his hand and Carlos’s eyes are bright with understanding. You’ve learned your lesson about making hasty assumptions but you don’t think it’s foolish to deduce this means that they’re actually interested in you too, this time around.

“Ah. Well, we should not have assumed that you knew we were Formula One drivers, which maybe was obvious from how you spoke to us,” Carlos shrugs his shoulders, leveling the blame, “And, I think it’s sweet that you were hoping to run into us again.”

“Mmm,” you hum nervously, “I think it’s delusional.”

One of their shoes knocks against yours underneath the table and you jump in surprise. Carlos’s chest shakes with a silent laugh and his eyebrow raises at you pressingly.

“We should’ve asked for your number last summer,” Lando adds nonchalantly. 

You rattle at his boldness, and you’re given a moment to ponder that as the waiter stops to pour you and Carlos a glass of white wine (Lando refused). You take a brief sip, humming pleasantly at the light and easy flavor, the live music and easy conversation floating through the air providing you a reprieve from your immersion in the two men. 

Your attention is recaptured as you watch Carlos offer Lando a chance to taste from his glass. 

Earlier, the Brit had told you he dislikes the taste of most alcohols when the waiter stepped away to grab the bottle Carlos requested. Yet, Lando accepts, not without making his distaste apparent with an adorable frown. He takes the tiniest sip possible with a look of apprehension and recoils from the glass as he swallows, his nose scrunching in disgust as he shakes his head to further sell his distate. 

Carlos rolls his eyes and laughs, revealing to you how used he is to Lando’s dramatics. He raises a hand to rub at the short hair on the nape of the younger’s neck in comfort.

The look on your face must be cloyingly sweet if the light dust of pink that rises to the Brit’s cheeks when he realizes you’ve watched the entire interaction, is meaningful. Carlos’s eyes become intense when he spots how Lando curls into himself shyly under your eyes. The Spaniard whispers, his volume low enough for only Lando to hear and you wish you knew exactly what was said, because it deepens the tint of his cheeks to a furious red. 

You figure you’ll save him from his torment by bringing up the important stuff.

“So, you only have a month of summer vacation,” you start, fingers fiddling with the edge of a fan-folded napkin, “Which is in August. That’s…so short. My fall semester starts the first week of September.”

Silence falls as they digest the underlying meaning of your sentence. Is it in everyone’s best interest to start something that has to end so soon? Is it in your best interest to risk catching feelings for two athletes (celebrity-athletes, at that) during the last month of your break? 

“A month is a long time,” the younger man starts, his blue-green eyes intent, “We’ll just have to make the most out of it, right? I want to get to know you more, and I have a feeling that the three of us will have a fun time together—If you want to give it a try.”

“A ‘fun time’? Like—like a fling?” Your expression remains indifferent as you ask. You need them to clarify what they want out of this without revealing your emotions. It’s only proper for you to prevent any future miscommunication or misunderstanding about this; you learned from your earlier mistake.

Lando’s earnest gaze has lost some of its shine, and Carlos’s eyes now seem guarded.

“Calling it a fling is harsh,” the Spaniard responds, “It’s more of a summer romance, no?”

Your laugh isn’t genuine, but they don’t know you well enough to discern that, “Alright, I’ll give our ‘summer romance’ a chance. Using a synonym doesn’t change the definition, you know?” 

Lando cocks his head at you, staring deeply. It feels like he’s trying to puzzle you out, and you stare back in feigned confusion.

“It’s nothing,” He relaxes, leaning back in his chair and moving Carlos’s glass out of the way as he sees the waiter nearing the table with your appetizers, “I just find it odd that you called yourself stupid earlier.” You don’t know what to make of that, but it’s forgotten as the starters are devoured and the conversation shifts into them getting to know you and vice versa.

The older man with them at the golf course last year was Carlos’s father, who is a two-time Rally World Champion. You’re surprised to learn that they’ve only been dating for around a year. Lando says he developed a crush on Carlos when they were teammates at Mclaren, but he was afraid of ruining their relationship and potentially, his career, if he confessed–so he kept quiet. Carlos didn’t realize he was romantically interested in Lando until he signed his contract with Ferrari. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupt, “If you guys have only been together for a year, did you get together before or after you saw me at the golf course for the first time?”

“A year and three months,” the Spaniard corrects with a serene smile, “Our anniversary was in May.”

The Brit continues for him, “—Which means we started dating about three months before we saw you. Give or take a few weeks.”

You gave a low whistle of surprise—three months into their relationship and they were on the same page about chasing after you. Since then, they had several serious conversations about adding a third to their relationship but hadn’t found or looked for anybody they’d consider to try with. Besides you.

Obviously, they like playing golf; Lando is abysmal, and Carlos is not bad at it. Carlos has two sisters, Lando has a brother and two sisters. Both of them are middle children. Lando is a picky eater, and hates fish and seafood. Carlos will eat anything Lando doesn’t. Lando founded a company with his best friend. Carlos is a Real Madrid fanatic. Lando occasionally streams on Twitch. Carlos enjoys surfing and cycling.

“I’m sorry for saying that you guys sucked at golf yesterday,” you apologize sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” the Brit says, unperturbed, “I do suck at golf. I just wasn’t expecting to hear it come from you.”

“I suck less at golf,” the older man states, “But, if I was good, I would not have been in the sand pit in the first place, no?”

They visit Spain often because family is important to Carlos. Lando’s loved like another son by Carlos’s family and Carlos is loved the same by Lando’s family. Lando is needy. Carlos likes being needed. Carlos is mildly possessive. Lando is too self-critical. Carlos makes the best pancakes. Lando wants to build a beautiful vintage car collection.

They want to see you again. You enjoyed dinner more than you thought was possible. 

They defrosted your nerves and allowed your personality to shine through. It helps that they were actively listening as you complained and gushed over your studies, told anecdotes of the shenanigans you and the others got up to on the golf course, and spoke about your future outlooks. They didn’t mind your lack of knowledge about Formula One and explained the sport in detail to you. They were determined to figure out what made you mad, what made you happy, what made you laugh, what made you shy—and, what made you go pink.

It didn’t take them long to discern that staring at your lips is the trick. When they made that discovery, they weaponized it the entire night. While one of them played with the rings on your fingers or tucked a curl behind your ear, the other managed to fluster you by letting their eyes wander for a few seconds before meeting yours again with increasing intensity. You experienced heart failure several times, and had to ask them to repeat themselves more frequently thanks to their psychological warfare.

Your heart feels like it may cease to function again as they walk you to your doorstep. The lights inside the house are off, you returned later than you thought you would. Your parents left the porch light on for you and it casts an amber warmth. Carlos and Lando don’t invite themselves into your space as you dig your house keys out of your purse, ever the polite men. The sound of your keys jingling harmonizes with your triumphant hum as you pull them out. 

You face the boys, placing your hand on the doorknob behind you, waiting for them to speak. 

“Are we forgiven for unintentionally leading you to believe that we led you on and wasted your time?” Lando blurts out.

You knock your head back against the doorframe, abashed, shutting your eyes to dispel the HD playback your brain gifts you with. “If you both agree to never bring it up again, I’ll forgive you.”

“I suddenly do not know what we’re talking about,” Carlos nods seriously, and Lando echoes the sentiment.

You release the doorknob and take the few steps towards them. As you expected, their eyes simultaneously drift to stare at your mouth. You lightly place a hand on Carlos’s shoulder before leaning up and brushing your lips across his cheek in the lightest ghost of a kiss, before moving to Lando and doing the same.

You carefully backpedal to the door turning to insert your key into the lock, before you look back at them. Your heart flutters at the sight of Carlos, who’s frozen, standing all wide-eyed and pressing his fingers to his cheek like he’s unsure if he imagined the kiss. Lando however, looks hungry. His eyes are the darkest you’ve seen tonight, and they’re locked on how you teasingly flick your tongue across your bottom lip.

“While we may only have a month to spend together—it doesn’t mean I’m easy. I, at least!—need a second date before I let you do anything more than stare at my lips and hold my hand. It might take three dates before I even let you kiss my cheek,” you tease with a joking shrug of your shoulders.

“It’s a good thing that you have my phone number,” the lock clicks open, and you push the door open, “If you don’t use it to set up another date, I think I’ll have no choice but to never forgive you guys.”

“We’ll be using it,” Carlos asserts, recovered from the daze you left him in.

“Hm, good. Text me when you get home.” You step in your entryway, waving your fingers at the two of them leisurely, “Buenas noches.” [Goodnight.]

They mimic your goodbye and you shut the door, clicking the lock. You nosily peek through the peephole to spy on their reactions. Carlos tugs Lando into a bear hug, their wide smiles hidden as they press into each other and the sharpest pitch squeal you’ve heard from Lando travels through the front door. You cover your own giggle with a hand as you watch the two of them kiss and almost skip down your driveway back to the car. You press your back to the door with a deep sigh, a lovestruck smile painting your face while you lay limp to let your heartbeat slow to a normal speed.

The hallway light flicks on and you shriek as your mom stares at you with a deranged smile on her lips, “Tell me everything!”

“Mamá! What are you doing up? It’s late!” You exclaim, straightening upwards with your hands on your hips, failing at distracting her from how you were weak in the knees a couple of seconds ago. “It’s okay, mija! I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee for us and you can tell me all about your date!” She rushes forward, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen.

Ironically, the second date ends up being late night mini golf. Even better, you destroy them at it. It wasn’t an easy feat, they made plenty of attempts to sabotage and distract you; whether it was yelling, spooking, poking, or prodding at you as you readied your putt, but it wasn’t enough to give them a chance of catching up. 

You figure more of your mistakes were from being unable to stop laughing as the two performed atrociously. Carlos ended up polluting every water feature with golf balls and Lando couldn’t manage to finish a single hole in under 8 strokes—the highest par was 6. You patted Lando on the back consolingly, telling him to find comfort in the fact that they’re equally terrible at putt-putt golf.

The two seemed surprised at your finesse with a club, almost like they’d forgotten you work on a golf course. You may not be a caddy, but you’ve had plenty of time to work on perfecting your technique. You did well enough to place sixth on the leaderboard, the employees said that Carlos’ score might be the worst they’ve ever seen.

With their egos severely bruised, you convinced them to soothe the loss over with ice cream at a neighboring parlor. Lando was satisfied with plain vanilla and Carlos with a scoop of dulce de leche. You elected for cookies and cream, but found yourself being fed their flavors as well. 

The sugary treats were delicious. Watching them stare at your lips pursed around a spoonful of ice cream was far more delectable. Lando broke the fourth time you managed to dot a bit of vanilla above your upper lip. He choked on a whine before leaning into your space. He hesitated a hair’s width away from your lips, his shuddering exhales mixing with yours, his eyes searching for approval. Your eyes fluttered shut and Lando closed the gap. 

His lips were soft and chilled, a result of the ice cream. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you leaned into the kiss, the taste of vanilla lingering in the embrace. His hand raised to cradle your cheek as your lips brushed together languidly, the sound of your heart racing within your chest fading out as you become absorbed by the kiss. 

Lando pulls away, falling back into his seat with his chest heaving. You stare after him with wide eyes, jolting out of it when you notice you’ve dropped your spoon into your lap, Carlos’s dulce de leche ice cream spilling onto your thigh. 

“Do I get to lick this off your thigh since Lando got to kiss it off your lips?” Carlos asks, his tone half genuine, half facetious.

You kick at his ankle underneath the booth and he throws his hands up placatingly. 

“Wait–,” you anxiously flit your eyes around the parlor, “—you shouldn’t have kissed me here Lando. Out in public? Aren’t people going to recognize—”

“We’ve been the only people in here for the past thirty minutes or so,” Lando interrupts, gathering the near-empty dishes and balled-up napkins, “They’ve also been closed for twenty minutes. When you went to the bathroom when we came in, Carlos and I signed something for the owner who was more than happy to keep things quiet for his second favorite Spanish Formula One driver.”

“Second favorite?” Carlos furrows his eyebrows at his boyfriend, his umber eyes adorably confused.

“Mate,” the Brit scoffs, “I might be in love with you ‘n all but we're not going to act like Fernando isn’t the best thing that came out of Spain, besides churros.”

The unfavored Spaniard holds his hand to his chest in betrayal before his eyes narrow and he moves to assault Lando with a pinch to his chest. While you’d love to continue watching this disguised act of foreplay, you would rather be a participant than a voyeur.

“¡Cabrónes!” The two freeze, heads snapping to look at you as your voice cuts through the catfight.

“I think the owner would be even happier if you licked the ice cream off my thigh outside of his parlor so he could finally lock up, sí?”

How Lando kisses with a desperate hunger, Carlos kisses with a ravaging heat. Like he wants to roast your nerve endings with every brush of his lips against yours.

The fiery press of his mouth stokes the arousal building in your navel. His hand tangles in your hair as he directs the tilt of your head. A stuttered whimper slips from your mouth into his as your tongues glide together, a buzzing sensation tingling down your spine as his other hand squeezes your waist tightly.

He walks you backward towards the bed, his lips devouring yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, attempting to pull your bodies even closer than they are. You stumble, gasping when his hand palms your ass and it’s the first time your lips have separated since Carlos claimed them in the hallway.  He tumbles into you as his feet stumble around yours, the darkness of the bedroom not bettering the situation. He nearly sends you both to the floor instead of the plush mattress if not for Lando catching your body and a hand firmly pressed to Carlos’s chest to hold him upright, expletives falling from your mouths until balance is restored.

You rest your forehead on the older man’s collarbone as you abruptly giggle at being so kiss drunk you forgot how to backpedal. The two drivers have no choice but to laugh at the sound of your amusement, Lando cackling and Carlos’s chest shaking with his laughter. 

“I’m not against fucking on the floor,” Lando voices, the sound of his grin loud enough for you to visualize, “But—can we at least have our first time with you on this extremely comfortable bed?”

“First time?” You raise a brow jokingly, nonchalantly pulling your shirt over your head and letting it fall to the floor, “That implies you’re thinking there’s gonna be a second.”

The Spaniard steps away to click the nightstand lamp on, the room partially bathed in warm yellow light. Your eyes adjust seamlessly to the low lighting, allowing you to revel in the sight of him appreciating your exposed skin, even when covered with a plain black bra—you’ve never been more thankful to be wearing a matching pair of panties.

The younger man unclasps the latch of the garment, dragging the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingertips, and the bra lands atop your shirt. You feel his breath cascade heatedly along your left shoulder before his lips purse delicately against the brown skin. 

He nips closer to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I know we’ll be having you for more than a third time.”

Surely feeling left out, Carlos unzips your skirt, tugging it down your hips and offering a hand for you to hold as you step free of it, “Many more times. But for tonight,” the older man pauses, toying with the band of your panties, looking at you with a smirk, “We must settle on saving the floor for round two. After we have caused you to ruin the sheets.”

Internally, you scream in elation. Two men eager to fuck you stupid, for the rest of your summer—you pray they’re not bluffing. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had sex good enough for a repeat performance. Externally, you shimmy out of your panties and tug at the hem of Carlos’ button-up once you’re bare. 

“If you want me to ruin your sheets, I’m pretty sure that requires you both to be less clothed.”

Lando’s free of everything but his briefs in a handful of seconds while Carlos struggles to unbutton his shirt. The younger pulls you into bed, guiding you to lay on your back as he holds himself over you, dipping to kiss you messily, unafraid to let his moans knit with yours. By the time the older man has lost his clothes and joined the two of you on the bed, the Brit’s focus has traveled down the length of your neck to your chest. Reddened marks bloom on your bronzed skin, mottled across your decolletage in a pattern only known as desire. 

He laves his tongue against a pebbled nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive bud, delighting in the way your body arches upwards into his mouth. Your hand pulls tightly at brunette curls, his resulting whimper at the burn of his scalp muffled around your breast, his eyes screwing shut. You loosen your grasp, unable to determine if that was a positive reaction and you’re pleased to see his eyes fly open, his gaze demanding more. His large hand envelopes your wrist, attempting to have you further mess up his hair, but the motion is halted when Carlos cocks Lando’s head backward with an unrelenting fist. 

The younger man shudders, his eyes rolling at the rough treatment. He rises to lessen the pressure of his boyfriend’s grasp, settling into a kneel between your legs with Carlos pressed to his back. The burn of his scalp subsides when the hold weakens, the tension leaving the younger man in a breath and his head droops back on a broad shoulder.

The Spaniard captivates your attention as he presses a kiss to Lando’s jaw, moving the same hand that was in his boyfriend’s hair to splay against his abdomen, a finger dipping to poke at his bellybutton, causing Lando to jolt with a whine. Carlos coos, calming the man with a rub of hand along his torso.  

“Don’t let him fool you. He likes a bit of pain,” Carlos tweaks Lando’s nipple demonstratively, letting the sight of the younger man’s arousal jumping underneath his briefs accompanied by a strangled moan speak for itself. “He’s a brat, even if he likes to pretend otherwise. A little sting is enough to remind him how to act…most times. Right, Landito?”

The man moves to hide his face in Carlos’s neck as if it’ll hide the sight of him nodding in confirmation. It doesn’t help that the meek “yes” he breathes into the muscle isn’t muffled at all.

“And because he wants to be good,” Carlos continues, pulling at Lando’s waistband and releasing it to snap against flushed, pink skin, “He’s going to keep himself busy with you while I see if I can still taste the dulce on your thigh. Is that okay with you?”

You gulp, anticipatory. “M-more than okay.”

The younger man's eyes are all pupil, ringed with stormy-colored irises as he’s lowered by your side. You were contemplating teasing him about his brat complex—but the haze of his eyes causes you to reconsider.

The gap of his teeth remains adorable even as he bites his lips, the plush skin reddened and raw from where he’s already scraped the skin off. Prolonged eye contact from him seems impossible—his gaze flits away from yours after a handful of seconds. He struggles to decide where to look, happening upon your lips, zoning out with a yearning pout. Lando is clueless to the effect of his fixation; he reignites the redness on your cheeks and the skipping of your heartbeat.

Frightened by Carlos’s spit-slicked lips brushing along the bone of your ankle, you twitch, breaking Lando’s trance. 

The Brit’s blush deepens when he notices you’ve been watching him stare without saying a word. He muffles a mortified whimper into a pillow, smushing his face so deeply into the fabric you worry he may strangle himself. You glance at Carlos for assistance and the man only nods in the younger’s direction, continuing to drag his mouth up your legs, pausing to suckle the skin of your thighs and smirking when he feels the muscles flex underneath his lips.

“Lando, chico,” you croon, petting a hand through the curls at the crown of his head, “Look at me.”

He peeks an eye at you shyly, turning to face you fully, reassured at the enamored look you cover him with.

“Besamé,” you murmur, knowing it’s something Lando’s heard plenty of times from the man nestled between your legs. [Kiss me.] 

The younger understood, rushing to press his lips to yours filthly. The frantic energy is winsome, your chest tightening at the sounds of him whining and mewling needily into your mouth. He licks into your mouth insistently, his attention devoted to tasting the remaining sweetness of ice cream on your tongue. From below, Carlos hums as his tongue polishes off the remaining stickiness on your bronzed skin.

The sounds they rip from you are muffled by the younger man, but the grunt of annoyance Carlos makes as the lingering dulce de leche flavoring of your thigh disappears is clear. He drags his tongue against your labia in one firm stroke, your abdomen undulating at the unexpected attention to your cunt. He smacks his lips, savoring, before a moan rumbles through his chest.

“Better than the ice cream,” he announces, the brown of his iris darkened with greed. 

Lando frees your lips to look at his boyfriend pleadingly, and you take the time to breathe. He left you lightheaded as he kissed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

“ ‘wanna taste, ” Lando begs, and Carlos pulls up to meld their lips together, and you're briefly hypnotized by the muscles of his arms contracting through the movement.

The most reedy whine escapes the curly-haired man as Carlos shares the taste of your arousal with him. Your head is filled with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, buffering at the sight of the two men feasting on your essence—what were you thinking when you agreed to be a summer romance? You’re never going to be able to recover from this, and they haven’t even fucked you yet.

They separate, Lando’s chest heaving as he licks along his lips in search of any faint traces of your taste. Carlos resituates himself between your thighs, his voice carrying a firm edge, “Wait your turn, cariño. Keep being good for me—for us, yes?”

The younger man seems small as he nods, appearing a little empty-headed at the command, but he obeys. Turning back to peck your lips sweetly, Lando trails downward to leave a few marks of his own along the column of your neck.

You grab his jaw lightly, “No marks—,” the light in his eyes dulls slightly, “—that high up.” He brightens and lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nipping at your skin, energized by your nails scratching along his scalp.

Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as Carlos joins in. He laps between your folds sloppily, his nose knocking your clit with every bob pf his head. The hand that isn’t buried in brunette curls fists in Carlos’s locks of hair, holding him steady while he prods at your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Your brain buzzes, toes curling as the older man eats you out, the sounds of him enjoying his meal reverberating through the air, harmonizing with your cries and Lando’s snuffles as he toys with your nipples.

Carlos presses a finger inside, thrusting shallowly against your fluttering walls and his mouth purses around your bud, the suckle of his lips puppeteering your spine into arching and your hips into bucking. His stubble scratches your thighs, the scrape searing but adding to your gratification.

He curls upwards, dragging roughly through the clenching of your cunt, adding a second finger that your walls swallow voraciously. The ache of the stretch is calmed quickly by the ample leaking of your arousal and the constant attention of a tongue on your clit as Carlos steadfastly hunts for your sweet spot.

Your mewls are ragged, forced from your lungs with every press of his fingers. Your eyes flutter as pleasure singes your skin, you find the strength to hold them open as you lock gazes with the man between your legs. His eyes are characteristically wide, but they scream his commitment to making you scream.

There’s no fighting. Your head falls back when his fingers graze near that pleasure point and your eyes screw shut when he perfects the angle and massages your sweet spot with his fingertips. 

A shrill shriek leaves your lips as the penetration becomes unrelenting. He constantly presses on the button that has your thighs tightening around his head, but the temptation of taking his final breath between your legs has him doubling down, suckling at your clit forcefully as he prods a third finger inside of you.

Lando chokes, crying out loudly as your hand yanks at his curls, his hips jumping to grind along your hip, his briefs damp from where he’s been leaking. Carlos’s laugh as he watches his boyfriend desperately hump in search of friction, vibrates around your swollen bud, forcing out a squeal nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of your slick squelching around his fingers.

Abruptly, he pulls away. His digits slip from your walls, your entrance left to pucker hungrily around air. Carlos’s stare is loud as he fights the urge to press inside of you again.

The lack of stimulation is maddening. You free your hold on Lando, and he collapses onto you, body pinning yours to the bed—his weight steadying as you restrain your anger at the sudden halt.

You blink deliriously at the sight of Carlos tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. The slowing rhythm of your heart speeds up as you revel at the image of his hand rolling the condom down his hardened length, flushed and throbbing with arousal. 

It’s daunting. It’s been a long time since you’ve last had sex. At some point, you decided to prioritize protecting your peace rather than dealing with men who aren’t going to do anything other than ruin your PH and fail to make you cum. It doesn’t help that Carlos is well-endowed; you need to come to terms that you’re going to have a limp after this.

Lando sits upwards to watch his boyfriend drag his length through your folds, moaning in unison with you as Carlos’s tip brushes along your pulsing clit. The Spaniard grunts at the heated slide before resting at the gape of your entrance, but he looks up to you for your go ahead. 

“I-it’s been a while,” you admit tensely, covering your eyes with the back of your hand as anxiety builds in your navel.

“How long is ‘a while?’” Carlos asks, without a single hint of judgment. Lando pulls your hand off your face tenderly, revealing their compassionate expressions.

“You remember how I joked about not kissing you guys until a second date?” You toy with Lando’s fingers distractedly, and they confirm their recollection, “Well—there hasn’t been anybody that’s made it past a second date in a long time.”

“Carlos is gentle,” Lando reassures you, halting your play with his fingers to hold your hand comfortingly, “I promise. And he listens very well, and pays attention, and goes at your pace. If he doesn’t, I’ll beat his ass.”

You giggle at that, your nerves fading as Carlos yelps at the threat. This exact kind of behavior is the kind you can see yourself falling in love with.

“Ay! Yes—Lando has permission to knock some sense into me if I hurt you,” Carlos jokes, pausing momentarily before his tone becomes hopeful, “And, we would really like to be the ones who make it to a third date—I’ll follow your pace, I swear.”

The knot in your stomach tightens for another reason besides arousal.

“I believe you,” you murmur, relaxing back into the bed, raising your’s and Lando’s joined hands to press a kiss to his wrist. Lando hums sweetly at you, laying at your side again, his free hand cradling your waist, thumb brushing calmingly on your rich brown skin. 

Carlos breaches you softly—gently, as Lando said he would. The three fingers he stretched you with was a safe play. If it were only two, you would be feeling a sharp pain instead of an ache. The burn is delicious, your inhale stutters as the head of his cock pops into you.

“Joder,” Carlos curses, his jaw clenched tightly, his grip tight on your thighs, as he inches deeper. His eyes trace your complexion attentively for any sign that it’s too much. “Relax, mi corázon—let me in.”

The sweet endearment encourages you to pant through a tiny whimper. Lando’s hand pets along your navel as he sweeps a kiss across your brow bone.

“‘s big isn’t he?” He murmurs, voice breathy, “Fuck—it’s gonna be worth it when he’s all the way inside you, yeah? Stretching you out just right, touching spots you didn’t know existed. It hurts a little, I know, love. But, it hurts so good, doesn’t it? I don’t know how that fits inside me every time I take it, but it’s worth it.”

You whimper fitfully—you want to watch Carlos make him take it.

The discomfort twisting your brows lightens slightly, and Carlos pulls out before he sinks another inch in. The shallow stroke sends an appealing rush of sharp pleasure skittering up your spine and it pools at the back of your head.

A real moan is forced from your chest, and your eyes open to see Lando tucking a curl behind your ear, smiling knowingly.

“Yeah, that felt good didn’t it, baby?” You can’t solely credit the burst of pleasure behind your eyes to Carlos’s barely there thrusts as he works deeper. The praise and pet names Lando seems keen to utilize should be accounted for as well. The Brit presses down on your navel with an astoundingly large palm.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers, “Don’t you wanna feel him here? All deep inside of you?” He pauses briefly, letting your imagination work before continuing. “I feel him there when he fucks me. Like he’s making room for himself, yeah? Gonna open up for him? For me? Gonna let yourself feel good, sunshine?”

Carlos’s hips meet the backs of your thighs as he bottoms out.

Choked gasps leave you and Carlos. Your skin alight, your pores flaring raw. His calloused hands rub over your hips and thighs, one settling where Lando’s was previously holding at your waist and the other amply squeezing the curve of your ass.

Behind your closed eyes, you see the white flare of heat zinging through every nerve ending, your body overstimulated at receiving pleasure in the highest, unfiltered form. Lando was right—it feels like he made room for himself. The weight of him is searing, your walls fluttering frantically as they adjust.

Your most conscious thought is realizing why orgasms are referred to as “little deaths.” Because, if him fucking into you for the first time is this good? Cumming around him has to feel akin to ascending to heaven.

The younger man turns your head towards him with a gentle nudge of your cheek. His eyes peer into you searchingly. You don’t know what he’s trying to find. You’re more concerned with coaxing him into another kiss.

You raise up with an unsteady arm, toppling forward to press your lips to his, but you miss and land near the corner of his mouth. At your disappointed grown, Lando moves to kiss you chastely, before he looks at Carlos.

The older man’s eyes are silken as they dance between you and his boyfriend. It takes Lando tugging him forward with a hand on his bicep for him to understand that you’re pining for a kiss from him as well.

The Spaniard catches the strangled mewl you make with his lips, the change in angle as he hovers over you amplifying the pressure of him within you tenfold. Delicately, he leads the dance of tongues, using the lip lock to distract you from the barely there roll of his hips.

It works, the nervous tension that had gathered in your core unraveling completely at the sensual rock. The grinds remain tender as he gradually works you up to weightier strokes and a quicker rhythm.

Your lips uncouple when your head lulls backwards, a drawn-out purr rolling underneath your chest. With your knees bending to cradle Carlos’s hips, you cast lidded eyes to the Spaniard, bathing underneath his appreciative gaze and the blissful twist to his brows as he rolls into you.

“Carlitos, fóllame,” you murmur, watching his eyes widen in surprise, “I said it’s been a long time, not that I’m going to break.” [Fuck me.]

Lando grins beside you, quieting his laughter by pressing his face into your hair. The older man flusters, a red flush spreading across his chest, and he reminds you that he’d promised to be gentle.

His dedication to his word is attractive and you’re thankful he followed through. You tell him as such, but not without another teasing jab, “Thank you for being gentle. However, I think continuing to be gentle when I ask for more might decrease your chances at a third date.”

Lando jerks upwards to gape at the two of you, frazzled, “That’s not even funny! Babe—do better!”

The brown-eyed man doesn’t entertain either of you with a verbal response.

A bitten-off shout is punched from your chest as his hips slam into you with vigor, your vision crossing as the older man settles into a hard pace. His cock threatens to slip out of you with every stroke out and your body jolts with every ruthless thrust inside, the maddening force turning your mind syrupy with arousal and lightning-hot pleasure.

Endless praise is voiced by Carlos between every rough grunting pant he releases. Your brain is filled with seductive words; bien chica, so tight, you sound so pretty, you can take it. 

You can only hope he hears your gratitude through your repeated moans. You dig your nails into his muscled back as he grazes your sweet spot every couple of thrusts. The sharp pain only has Carlos’s hips stuttering for a moment. He growls, his grip turns bruising as he fucks into you with abandon. Your lungs burn and your legs shake. You squirm beneath him fruitlessly, attempting to buck away from the overwhelming grind, but you're pinned underneath his body weight. Your escape attempt is noticed by both men.

Lando tuts, pressing you down into the mattress with an arm around your waist to prevent any future attempt of you shifting. “Don’t run from it, sunshine.”

Carlos laughs sardonically, and you squeal as shame crawls along your synapses at the noise. He changes the angle of his thrusts to bully that spongy spot inside of you relentlessly, “It’s not too much, no? I thought you said you didn’t want me to be gentle?”

Your body curls in distress, mouth-parted wide at the excruciating attention paid to your most nirvanic point . You try to squeeze your walls tighter around him, to afflict a hint of the unbearable pleasure he’s wreaked upon you. Your shocked to discover that he’s fucked you open so well that your cunt can’t do much more than take what he gives you.

Your wetness squelches with his motions, a thin layer of sweat accumulates on your skin and steams the air around you. The scent of sex and aftertaste of ice cream permeates your mind as your orgasm peaks. 

It bursts through you, the intensity slamming through you like a train. Your body falls limp as the pleasure overrides your control, the unrestrained screams of their names are piercing as the waves brutally crash over you. 

Carlos slams his lips to yours, your teeth clacking together painfully and you can only pant into his mouth as he messily kisses you through your orgasm and steamrolls into his own with his strongest pounding thrusts.

Spanish curses are hidden by your mouth as he lays into you, like he’s not quite done molding you to his shape. He fucks you both through it, the vigor of his grinds wearing as the spurts of his spend slows within the condom. 

His arms buckle, pushing an umphf from your chest as he falls onto you. The heaviness is grounding and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Lando shifts needily at your side, but doesn’t speak. He pulls the arm on your waist from underneath his Carlos’s torso and drags a finger along the reddened scores your nails carved into his boyfriend’s back, with a look in your eyes you can’t place. Is it envy? Quietly, you contemplate the ache you feel between your legs. 

“Get naked, cariño,” you rasp, finding a second wind at the younger man doing as you asked, “It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t get a turn, too.”

Carlos nuzzles deeper into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, his lips and eyelashes tickling your cooling skin. He misses the sight of his boyfriend wildly flinging his briefs to an unknown corner of the bedroom.

Sitting on his haunches, the Brit’s reaches to grab his cock. It’s leaking and (concerningly) redder than the skin of his cheeks from the lack of attention paid to it. He yanks his hand back as if slapped, and digs his nails into the meat of his thighs.

Oh, you think, is it too much for him or is he not supposed to touch?

You reach to close your palm around his poor, dripping length, only managing a single, loose stroke when a pained hiss is ripped from Lando’s teeth. His hips jerk back, freeing himself from barely there hold of your hand. The toned muscles of his abdomen jump as his cock flares and a stream of precum dribbles from his swollen tip.

“Fu-uck,” he shakes, “— ‘can’t. Too sensitive, ‘ll cum.”

The green and blue pools of his eyes are wet with moisture, and his chest—dotted with moles and patches of flushed skin—trembles with every inhale. The man laying on your chest shifts to trail his eyes over Lando’s form. The corner of his lips tilts into a smirk as his boyfriend attempts to hide his arousal behind a hand.

“Sol,” Carlos says to you as his eyes remain piercing into the Brit, “You should ride him—if you are able to, of course.” [Sunshine/Sun]

“Uhh…” you stutter, your attention bouncing between the two as you refrain from answering. 

The numbness settling within your cunt can be ignored if it means you get to have the younger man underneath you. Except, it looks like he’s about to cry, and you don’t want to pressure him into agreeing with your answer if he honestly can’t handle it. The teary-eyed man whimpers thinly, splaying himself on his back next to you, looking past you to meet Carlos’s eyes meekly, his voice tiny as he responds, “—won’t last.”

The Spaniard pulls out of you slowly, murmuring apologies and kissing your cheekbone when your brow twinges in discomfort. He helps you straddle the younger man’s hips, careful to support you as your legs haven’t stopped quivering.

His hand drifts between your pelvises, dragging a nail along the underside of Lando’s cock and you can’t deny the buzz of electricity that sings in your gut at the younger man’s wounded cry. The tears spill over his waterline, though he’s squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop them from falling. Carlos tuts at the man patronizingly.

“Too much, Landito?” Carlos pouts at him, “It is fine if you cannot take it. If you don’t want to cum tonight that’s—“

Lando’s eyelids spring open, looking at Carlos desperately as he babbles, “No,no,no,no—‘wanna cum. Please, ‘los.”

The seconds Carlos spends rolling protection over Lando’s cock are filled with choked gasps as the younger man cries, overwhelmed at the lightest touch of fingertips. You lower around his cock smoothly, walls clenching around him greedily, vision tunneling on the soundless bliss of his expression when your ass meets his skin.

You hum at the fullness, your mind settling at how right it feels. The first circle of your hips has Lando’s hands clawing at your hips, adding his own marks on your skin to compliment his boyfriend’s. He wriggles, overwhelmed, but bucks to meet your rolling body regardless.

He’s flushed from head to waist, fresh tears painting tracks of salt down his face before they drip off his jawline to splash on the bed sheets. Your pace remains tantric, and you don’t move more than an inch upwards to avoid testing his limits. The suckling, hot, drag is more than enough for him, if the pulsing of his cock is any telling. Your own sensitivity begins to bite at the base of your spine, your brain exhausted at the feeling of Lando pressing into the rawness that Carlos carved out.

The Spaniard must notice the way the two of you are tiring of chasing euphoria. Lando’s grinds weaken as the precipice of ecstasy is dangled in front of him, hoarse sobs racking through him as he fails to reach it on his own. Carlos splays his hand across Lando’s throat. The Brit’s whimpers pleadingly, and his mouth parts roundly as his boyfriend applies a light pressure to the sides of his neck. 

Lando shakes apart underneath you with uneven thrusts, his helpless gasps echoing through the room as you continue the grind of your hips to coax him through the bliss of release. He bodily restricts your movements when you edge him towards too-much, pulling you off of him with a single hand underneath your thigh. 

Your knees buckle, pitching over to lie face down next to the British man, who mewls sharply as Carlos pulls the soiled condom off. The heat of the Spaniard disappears, the sheets ruffling as he leaves the bed, causing Lando to make a noise of confusion.

“Water, mi amor,” Carlos chuckles, and you’re happy your face is hidden as you can’t contain your expression of envy at the endearment. He maneuvers Lando’s arms to curl around you, “I am getting us water. I will be quick.”

The younger man, as fucked-out as he is, uses a surprising amount of force to pull you into his chest as he buries his nose in your frazzled nest of hair. He uses his other hand to pull your leg around his hip and hums happily when your bodies press together without an ounce of space to spare. He squeezes you tightly, your dejected frown disappearing as you bask in his embrace, uncaring of the layer of sweat pooling on your cooling skin and the stickiness of your thighs.

There’s three cups with straws in Carlos’s hands as he rejoins the two of you on the bed. He sets one on the nightstand and holds the other two while you and Lando untangle your limbs. Once Carlos is satisfied by the slow sips you two take, he slinks into the bathroom and returns with a warm, soaked cloth to wipe the grime from everyone’s bodies. 

He’s careful about the press of the rag, paying attention to every muscle that tenses in sensitivity and tries to do the job as painless as possible. He nods in content once finished, scooping his glass up to rehydrate himself as well.

Lando bites at the metal straw, the gap of his teeth ridiculously cute even as his eyes brighten with mischief, “So…five minutes and we go again?”

“¡Que te jodan!” You cast a look of disbelief at him, “Lando you just cried through an entire orgasm and you want to go again? Already?” [Fuck you!]

The Brit shrugs loftily, slurping through the last bit of water in his cup and toothily smiling as he blinks at you in feigned innocence. His softened length twitches to attention, and you rest your head in your hand, shutting your eyes briefly for strength.

“Oh, what the hell,” you mumble, before clearing your throat, speaking louder, “I need like 15 minutes—or, until I can feel my legs again. Whichever comes first.”

Carlos collects the empty cup from Lando and sets it on the nightstand with his own. “Would you like to watch him fall apart around me while you wait?”

You choke on the sip of water in your mouth, coughing desperately to clear your throat as your eyes water from the burn. The worried look in the Spaniard’s eyes has an amused tinge to it, even as he pats you on the back in aid—you have a feeling he timed his question with your swallow on purpose.

“That’s a stupid question,” you croak, strangled, “Of course, I want to watch.”

You snuffle against a warmed patch of skin, annoyed. The heat of sunlight paints your face golden, and you shift to burrow further into the warmth of limbs around you to drowsily slip back into sleep. You find yourself nodding off, but your ears become alert to the sounds of birds calling and chirping outside. 

Your body reacts before your brain as you fly upwards into a seated position. Shit! You have to go to work!

A pained whimper is exhaled as your lower body aches, sore from last night’s activities. The tangle of tanned arms fall limply around your waist at your change in position, the snores of the two men beside you uninterrupted. You carefully pry their arms away, and slip from the bed, digging through the pile of clothes on the floor, grinding your teeth at the numbness of your legs underneath you.

You dress yourself quickly, closing your eyes in thanks for Carlos forcing you into the shower before you passed out. Hopping across the bedroom to tug your skirt up, you stumble into the bathroom to examine the state you're in, pulling your shirt over your head all the while. 

Your curls are a mess, but that can be fixed at work. Lando respected your wishes of keeping his marks below the collar, but you can spot a few of the bruises on your thighs that their fingertips left. 

You curse briefly, unsure if you have a skirt long enough that would hide the mottled skin before remembering that you have a pair of biker shorts that you can slide on underneath that will get the job done. Pressing a thumb into the shape of Carlos’s thumb, you shiver at the glance of pain that sparks up your spine, swallowing tightly as you recall how it was left there.

With a shake of your head to expel the unseemly thoughts, you turn the faucet on to splash water on  your face. You need to call an Uber to get to work. Rushing out of the en-suite, you frantically search for your phone, trying to remain silent to avoid waking up the boys tucked in that ridiculously plush mattress.

“¿Qué estas buscando?” You screech frightfully at the rough timber of Carlos’ voice, spinning around to look at him. [What are you looking for?]

He’s preciously ruffled; his hair sticks up wildly, the comforter draped around his waist as he leans upwards, the planes of his tanned skin sharp in the morning hours, his eyes squinted in your direction under the brightness of the room—the curtains are wide open. 

Did you have sex—illuminated with a single lamp—with the curtains wide open? That’s a problem to fixate over later, you need your phone.

“Have you seen my phone? I can’t find it,” you straighten your shirt, your volume quieting near the end of your sentence as Lando shifts in the bed with a displeased pout that softens when he settles.

“I plugged it in here for you,” Carlos whispers, rolling to take it off the charger, flashing the marks your nails etched into his back. 

He lifts himself out of bed with a rough groan, your mouth drying as you watch him walk to you, clad in a pair of boxers that leave little (it’s not little at all, actually) to the imagination. Carlos’s hand cushions your cheek as he brushes his lips on yours softly, the delicate rhythm washing away your concerns about being late. 

Your lips break apart with a soft pop and he laughs at the discontented sigh you exhale, offering a languid press of lips to your forehead in apology. You reluctantly take the phone from his hand, your eyes bugging out as you realize that you needed to leave five minutes ago to have plenty of time to fix your appearance before you clock in.

“¡Puta madre!” you exclaim, “I’m fucked. I’m going to be so late ‘cause I have to wait for an car.”

“ —Wait for a car?” Carlos’s eyebrows twist in confusion, scratching at his stubble, “Where are you going? You are not staying?”

You throw him a soft look, turning away to figure out where your socks disappeared to, “I’m late for work, Carlitos. I can’t stay—even though I really want to.”

Carlos ah’s in understanding, assisting you in the search for your socks, his voice still croaky with disuse as he talks, “I can drive you? We are only twenty minutes away if you follow the road laws.”

You huff a laugh at his insinuation, tugging your socks on and patting at his arm softly, before gesturing to Lando in the bed, “You don’t have to. I don’t want to inconvenience you, you should be in bed with him. It’s my fault for not having my alarm properly set.”

Carlos shakes his head, rooting through his dresser for a pair of sweatpants that he pulls on, “You are not inconveniencing me. It would be rude if I let you be late to work after last night. I’m not that kind of man. Neither of us are.”

You give in as you watch him pull a plain white tee over his head—he’s too sweet for a fleeting romance. He ambles over to Lando, brushing the unruly curls off his forehead and pressing a kiss to his temple. He tucks the blankets around his boyfriend and a lick of jealousy blooms in your subconscious before you pluck it. 

Carlos grabs his own phone off another charger and stands, speaking to you warmly, “Your shoes and purse are downstairs, yes? There’s some protein bars in the kitchen pantry, grab as many as you want. I should have treated you to a proper breakfast but you do not have the time. I’m going to use the bathroom quickly, if that’s okay?”

You nod, and Carlos quietly shuts the bathroom door behind him. You breathe deeply at the situation you’ve found yourself in, and you scramble to send a quick text to the group chat telling them to cover for you and promising to cover a shift for anybody who does in the future. 

Your phone buzzes almost instantly after with an influx of messages and you click the screen off. They’re probably freaking out at the uncharacteristic vagueness of your whereabouts, but you put off responding to press your own kiss to Lando’s temple before heading downstairs, tenderly stepping to minimize the unsteadiness of your walk.

You appreciate the decor you didn’t get to see last night, the vacation home vibes blatant as you walk through; a modern twist of Spanish style decor. There’s even a fireplace you spot on your way past a sitting room.

You lace up your sneakers, grabbing your purse from the console table in the entryway before searching for the kitchen to grab a protein bar to hold you over until your lunch break. The kitchen is artful, modern in the sense of the new appliances but the colors and details of the tiled walls, clutter, and cabinets gives it a soul. It feels lived in.

You dryly swallow an ibuprofen—you always carry a few in your purse—hoping it will relieve your soreness before work. You open the pantry door, finding an assortment of protein bars and taking your time to read the labels as you hear a door open which means Carlos is heading down. You grab two bars that fit your taste and softly shut the door, unwrapping one to take a bite of now.

“Ah, I knew I would see you again,” Carlos Sr. smiles at you from the kitchen entry, chuckling at the way you jump and nearly drop the bars in your hands, “I will not lie to you, I thought it would be at the golf club and not here.”

Your lips part and seal as you search for a polite answer, but he continues speaking.

“Let me tell you a secret,” he clasps his hands delightfully, “Did my son tell you that he’s been asking me about you every time I am on the course? Papá, did you see her? Papá, when are you going back to Madrid? Aye, they’re smitten over you, mija?”

“¿En serio?” you relax at his mellow tone, enlightened by the new information. [Really?]

“¡Sí!” The older man exclaims, passing by you to start a pot of coffee, “To be honest, I thought you were out of their league last summer,” you laugh, knowing it’s definitely the other way around, “—Honestly!” He insists, turning to face you as the coffee starts to drip.

“I mean, you are in university, getting a further degree,” he shakes his head in respect of your commitment, “Those two just drive in circles for a living! I couldn’t even convince my son to drive rally like I did, ese cabrón.” [That bastard.]

You laugh a little harder at the jab on his own son, muffling it behind a hand, and he continues, “—And, when they told me they did not get your number! Ay! I was so mad at them. I told them to drop everything and go after you, but by the time they made their way up there you were already gone.”

You feel like shit about your outburst on the green. Your expression shutters, and he pats at your shoulder in comfort, “Oh. I-I didn’t know—“

“How could you?” He hums in question, “It is not your fault, if that’s what you are—“

“Mi sol, have you seen my wallet—” Carlos Jr. steps into the kitchen, words cutting off as he balks at the sight of his father, and he shouts, “Papá! ¿Qué hace aquí?” [My sunshine; Dad! What are you doing here?]

“¿Qué estoy haciendo en la casa que compré?” His dad fires back, amused at his son’s stunned question. [What am I doing in the house I bought?]

Carlos blinks at his dad before turning to you, slipping his hand into yours and tugging you out of the kitchen softly, “Let’s go; you’re going to be late, no?”

Sr. chortles as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, “¡Mijo! Hiding a woman from me?! It is okay, Lando will tell me everything. That is why he’s my favorite son!”

Carlos throws his head back with an exasperated groan, but it doesn’t hide the redness of his ears from his father’s teasing.

You stifle your smile, squeezing his hand pacifyingly, “Your wallet is in the bowl at the front. Um, if it’s possible,” you tuck a curl behind your ear shyly, “Do you have another car besides the Ferrari? I love it, but I cannot show up stepping out of that.”

Carlos snorts, shoving his wallet into his pocket and leading you to the garage, “Is a Porsche fine?”

“It’ll work.”

He gets you there in thirteen minutes, slowing the car to a crawl as you direct him to the employee entrance. You grab your purse, awkwardly pausing as you pop the door open. 

You face him with a sheepish grin, “Thank you for the ride. Tell Lando I said good morning.”

Carlos drags his eyes over your form languidly, before he nods imperceptibly, “Do you have enough time to get ready?”

“You’ve made up a few extra minutes for me with your skilled driving on the way here,” Carlos huffs a laugh at that, “So, I should be okay.”

The two of you fall back into silence, unsure of what else to say. You take the leap of faith this time around, it’s the most you can do after learning the way they tried to catch you before you left last summer.

“It wouldn’t be overstepping if I kissed you, right?”

“Ven aquí,” Carlos exhales, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the console to meet you halfway. [Come here.]

His lips are swollen and textured from your’s and Lando’s combined attention, but the kiss is the sweetest and most tender one you’ve ever experienced. The soft exhale of breath from his nose stokes the butterflies in your stomach, who flutter awake as adoration pumps through your veins. The two of you part, eyes fluttering open to stare softly. He settles back into his seat, looking at your lips longingly, his line of sight broken as you exit the vehicle.

You clear your throat, “Um, I’ll text you guys when I get home later, okay? Adiós, te qu—hasta luego.” [Bye, I l—see you later.]

You shut the door and speed walk into the building before he could say anything about how you nearly exposed how down bad you are already. You hope he doesn’t bring it up, for the sake of your mental stability. The moment you step into the employee locker room, you're accosted by your friends, Isa, Lucas, and Stephanie. 

“Damn,” Lucas snaps, “I was really hoping you’d be late. I need my shift on Tuesday covered.”

You shrug, sliding past the girls to walk to your locker. “Sucks to suck.”

“¡Oye, pequeña!” Isa and Stephanie box you in at your locker as you grab your spare uniform and sport shorts, Isa stresses, “You cannot, walk in here and act like nothing happened! You show up wearing the outfit I picked out for you yesterday? Your hair is a mess! You sent the vaguest text about possibly showing up late? And, you get dropped off in a Porsche!?” [Hey, girly(i guess, idrk how to explain it)!]

Stephanie’s eyes blow wide and you rest your head into the cool metal of your locker door as she bursts, “Girl—did you get laid?!”

“Thank you for that, Steph,” you bite out, turning to look at them with the politest grimace you can muster, “Now, everyone will know exactly what I got up to last night because Lucas—,” you point behind you with a thumb, speaking loudly to drive your words in, “—Is physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut.”

He raises his hands up and backs out of the locker room with a devious smile. 

Turning to Isa, you shake your head, “I do not know why you like him. He’s such a chismosa.” [Gossip.]

She rolls her eyes at you, following you as you make your way into the bathroom, “It’s not a bad thing. He tells me all of the gossip I miss out on–why are there bruises on your thigh—holy fuck! He must have big hands. Which means he has a big—”

“Okay!” You screech, running into a stall and locking the door shut behind you, “I will tell you and the girls every single detail as soon as we finish today!”

She makes a triumphant noise, her steps fading as she exits the restroom, “You better! Or, I’ll force you to listen to me wax poetic about Lucas’s eyes for hours!”

Scoffing, you tug your shirt over your head and yell back, “You already do that anyways!”

The slicked-back ponytail you gelled your hair into, has already sprung flyaways since you didn’t have enough time to set your hair with a wrap before you had to drive out onto the course. You’re almost three hours into your shift, and the sun feels like it’s at its strongest even though you have a few more hours of it burning hotter. Only twenty minutes until lunch, you remind yourself, then you can fix your hair and cool down in the restaurant's walk-in freezer.

You’ve just finished serving a bachelor party, a group of ten men who didn’t give you a hard time. You talked loosely with them, engaging in small talk because connections are everything and you never know who you might run into on the green.

Like Carlos and Lando, case in point.

The groom-to-be actually met his fiancé here. She was a bartender in the clubhouse about seven years ago, and on complete chance she ended up being the one to serve him. He was starry-eyed as he explained to you that he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. He ordered an unbelievably expensive amount of drinks for him and his boys (the same group of men in the bachelor party), and when she slid the bill over to him, he said, “For this price, you could’ve bought me for the night.”

You called bullshit, and he looked at his friends who backed up his words; they all heard it when he said it. You watched as he took a sip from his beer bottle with a reverent shake of his head, “Now, we’re getting married next week. On August 12th, or 8/12. Which was the price of the tab that night, $812.”

You made a joke about him needing to strengthen his self-esteem if he would consider selling his body for a measly $800, and to attend an A.A. meeting because that’s a ridiculous amount of money to spend on drinks that leave your system quicker than you ingested them. 

The men crowed in laughter at your ribbing of the groom-to-be, but you did seriously congratulate him on his engagement and wished him a long, happy marriage.

And currently, you’ve parked your cart for a few minutes to get over the urge you feel to cry. You're jealous of a woman you’ve never met before because she gets to love a man who’s devoting the rest of his life to her. She gets to marry him, and you’ve agreed to be nothing more than a summer romance to the men you could see yourself falling in love with.

You thank the universe for allowing you to cross paths with the groom-to-be. It reminded you of your place with the Formula One drivers and it’s a temporary one.

Your walkie-talkie crackles with the sound of your name and you sniffle deeply, blinking your eyes quickly to rid the moisture. 

“What’s up?” You chirp cheerily into the voice box, waiting for a response.

“By chance, are you missing your earrings? Over.” It’s Ryan, he takes his radio messages seriously. You tug at your earlobes, and damn, you feel naked.

“I am. Did I leave them in the dressing room?”

“You have to say ‘over’ at the end of your messages, you know that. Over.”

“Ryan...” you hold the line open to annoy him a little bit before you give in, “Did I leave them in the dressing room? O-v-e-r, over.”

“I was going to be nice to you but you lost that chance. Over.” 

You snort, intrigued to hear how he’s going to ‘retaliate.’ The two of you started here at the same time and Ryan has become like a little brother to you, against your will. 

“I just wanted to let you know that two objectively handsome men turned in your earrings to the front desk,” you shout in surprise, firing up the golf cart and slamming the pedal down to head back to the clubhouse, “Hmm…I think they said you left them at their house last night. Overrrrr.” He draws the ‘over’ out teasingly and the walkie-talkie squeals with static and screams of surprise from the other employees on the channel.

“TWO? YOU FREAK!!!” Lucas.

Incoherent screaming. Isa.

“Nobody here can call me a slut anymore!” Rob.

“Is that why you couldn’t sit comfortably at the morning meeting?!” Sofia.

Ryan’s voice crackles through, “Oh! I forgot to mention—don’t worry about stealing food from the restaurant for lunch; they dropped off a meal for you. Over.”

The walkie-talkie explodes with noise and you turn the volume to zero. You’re reporting them all to HR.

You tune out the jeers in the break room as you devour a croquetade jamón and chase it with a spoonful of rice. You send a photo of the food with a thumbs-up in the frame, to Carlos and Lando. You type out your thanks for the jewelry return and lunch. There’s no hesitation as you press send on message inquiring about when the third date is going to happen.

The third date is private cooking lesson where you’re coached through making a few classic Spanish tapas. Lando immersed too deeply and only responded to ‘Chef Lando’ during the class. Carlos ate all of the chorizo he was supposed to use on his flatbread. You terrify the actual chef with your less than savory cutting technique. Your torn apart on their fingers that night, as they take turns coaxing you over the cliff.

You decrease the amount hours you’re able to work at the golf course. You’re only on the schedule during the middle of the week–Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday—leaving you with a four day weekend to frolic around Madrid with your boyfr—with Carlos and Lando.

The fourth date is dinner and a show. It’s your first time watching a ballet, and your lucky enough to be watching the performance at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe. It’s also the first time you get railed in a women’s bathroom stall at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe.

Lando pants raggedly as he fucks into you from behind, “Ah—shit, sunshine, you’re so tight.”

Your moan is muffled around Carlos’s cock and he hisses at the vibration, knocking his head against the stall door loudy. 

When Lando climaxes, he whimpers out a, “te quiero.” You pretend to miss it as you concentrate on sucking Carlos to completion. Carlos licks his spend from your tongue, babbling his te quiero’s into your mouth. You don’t say it back. [Te quiero means I love you, but it’s more casual, less serious in nature.]

The fifth date is pottery and you ride Carlos’s face to the image of Lando’s hands coning down his clay on the wheel. The sixth date is driving around the outskirts of Madrd’s city limits and passing the phone around to queue a song to play as you three switch between talking and enjoying the tunes. 

The seventh date is painting the mugs you made; you made two, one for Carlos and one for Lando—they each made you one as well. You’ve painted Carlos’s as a lemon and Lando’s as an orange—and homage to the sip of sunshine line they pulled on you. Lando painted a field of sunflowers for you. Carlos painted a sun with rays spilling from it, the words ‘my sunshine’ scripted into the middle of the sun.

Somewhere between the fifth and seventh date, they became comfortable with saying te quiero  to you outside of sex. 

It’s said as you serve them drinks on the course, as they drop you of at home after dates, as they cuddle with you without wanting more, as they wake you up between them in the morning. 

You give in somewhere beewen the sixth and seventh date. But, you only allow yourself to say te quiero during or after sex.

And, you stifle your sobs of anguish into your pillow at home, dreading the day you return to school and they return to racing.

Your dad enjoys the mobile car show of priceless automobiles that appear in his driveway to pick you up. Your mom eagerly awaits your renditions of your dates every night and you’re careful to edit around the explicit parts. 

The dates progress to you spending your four days off at their  Carlos Sr. 's vacation home, packing a bag with your necessities so you don’t have to risk wasting time away from them by stopping at your house. They take the time to explain to you just how much of a goat Lewis Hamilton is. Lando helps with your wash day, soaking up your tidbits of advice for his own curls. Carlos lets you soundboard ideas for your dissertation off of him without complaining, iterjecting every once in a while with a viewpoint you hadn’t considered. 

Your craving for intimacy is satiated. They twirl you around in the kitchen to Spanish ballads they sing terribly at the top of their lungs. They terrorize you on the green, choosing increasingly difficult cocktails for you to make so you have to spend more time with them instead of doing your job. You and Carlos terrorize Lando with a football games of keep away. You and Lando terrorize Carlos by hiding his shirts from him so he has to walk around topless. They don’t terrorize you in retaliation—if you don’t count their constant te quiero’s as terrorizing acts.They pick you up at some ridiculous hours when you’ve gone clubbing with your friends; making sure you chug a glass of water, helping you rinse off in the shower and moisturizing your skin before dressing you in their clothes, doing your skincare for you before putting you to bed. 

They drag their feet through helping you repack your belongings on the morning of your last day in Spain. You let Lando get away with tugging garments out of your bag every time you turn your back to him, hiding your smile as you see Carlos assist him by stuffing it at the bottom of the pile of clothes that doesn’t seem to shrink.

Eventually, they give up. Their eyes trace your form as you do your last walkaround to make sure you haven’t left anything behind. Your check ends at the front door, grabbing your keys from the bowl on the entryway table.

You sigh heavily, “Well, don’t just stand there.”

They gravitate towards you, hugging you tightly and peppering an endless amount of bittersweet kisses along any patch of skin they can reach. Lando hunches down to hide his face in your neck, and Carlos rests his forehead against yours.

“¡Chicos, calmaté!” Your giggly exclamation sounds watery, “I am coming back next year, remember?”

“That’s too longgg,” Lando complains into your neck, his voice sounding as pitiful as yours. You step backwards to cradle his face between your hands. His cheeks are ruddy and his eyes are dejected even as he smiles shakily under your touch.

“Date us.” Carlos blurts out desperately, “Ay, perdóname—May we date you, please?” [Forgive me.]

You gape at the older man, struggling to ascertain what he’s asked of you. 

Stumbling gracelessly, your hands fall from Lando’s face, who makes a hurt noise at the loss. “Date me? I thought you both said this was just a fling?”

The Brit twists his hands together at your words, his face saddening further as he corrects you, “Summer romance—fling is too harsh.”

“Too casual?” You shout, “I thought this was supposed to be casual! I felt like shit whenever I didn’t say te quiero back! I wanted more the moment we sat down at that restaurant a month ago, but I thought I couldn’t have it because that’s not what we agreed on!”

“You want more?” Carlos clarifies, his tone optimistic. 

“¡Cabrón!”  You laugh, hurtling forward to throw your arms around his neck. Relieved tears spill over your waterline, soaking into the Spaniard’s shirt. “I’m damn near in love with you guys–yes,yes,yes, I want more.”

Lando glows, blubbering incoherently with happiness and you shush him with your lips.

“I wish you had asked me days ago,” you sniffle cutely, smiling crookedly as you continue, “—’cause I really do have to leave, or I won’t have enough time to pack my things into my suitcases at home.”

You groan as you find yourself with an armful of two Formula One drivers bemoaning the unfairness of being separated from you even though they just got you.

“Mis amores, escúchame—you had me the entire time,” you coo, “We all know how phones work. We can communicate speedily with texts, and video calls, and send voice messages, and even regular calls. If we’re doing this we have to have a serious talk about it when I land in the States, yeah? Long distance is difficult, but I’m willing to put in the effort to make it work, if you two do the same.” [My loves, listen to me.]

“Phone sex isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Lando quips, smiling as he watches you and Carlos chortle at the unexpected comment.

The laughter ringing through the air fizzles out. You bite your lip, shaking your head slightly as their stares fixate on your mouth. They haven’t managed to stop ogling at your lips over the course of the month.

“Te quiero,” you state. Lando repeats it back instantly, Carlos kisses you before doing the same.

You pick up your bag from the floor, “Promise me that you’ll do your best to make this relationship work.”

Their confirmations are swift, even taking turns crossing their pinkies with yours and with themselves. Your heart sings with love. They walk you to your car. Carlos takes the bag from your hand and places it in your backseat, Lando holds your door open, making sure you don’t hit your head as you sit in the driver’s seat. 

He shuts the door smoothly, and you roll down the window to exchange your last goodbyes. 

“See you next summer.”

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos used are from pinterest (edited by me). mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[say-narry]

Ride it

Characters: Harry!husband x Reader

Word count: ~1.8K

Warnings: insinuations, oral sex, explicit sex

Author's note: I don't know much about basketball, but here it is. Again, English is not my first language.

Versão em PT-BR

***

I felt that sometimes Harry didn't learn how competitive I was, even after years of marriage. We had a bet on which of our favorite basketball teams would win tonight and well, I won.

We were at an NBA championship game, me rooting for my big Lakers and Harry for the Celtics.

Between dunks and shots, Lakers won 81-71. It was a good game for both teams and even better for me.

I avoided my little victory dance so as not to hurt Harry, he hated to lose and I knew how hurt he was like a kid without dessert, so since he had lost, I just clapped my hands and smiled.

After leaving the crowd that came to take a picture with Harry, even the Lakers fans, we had made it into the car. I just glared suggestively at Harry and he just ignored me or stuck out his tongue like a tantruming child.

What can I do? He invented this and also the payment of the bet, my team just did their job.

We put on our seat belts and Harry started the car.

Harry hummed softly and I bit the ligaments in my fingers with my elbow against the car door, while H drove through the streets of Los Angeles.

The music had changed from quiet to more upbeat, I loved it, and like cartoons, a light bulb went on above my head.

I still hadn't thought for sure what my prize would be, but Harry, if I had won we would have to do heavier banter in public, since I was very reserved being a kindergarten teacher, but I think I might go further tonight.

"Let it be, let it be, let it be known..." I began "Touching and teasing me, telling me no, but this time I need to feel you..." I held Harry's hand that rested on the backrest between us. He pulled it lightly and kissed it, without taking his lips off the road, I couldn't wait to have fun tonight.

***

We arrived a few minutes later, I went to the bathroom in our suite while Harry activated our house alarm.

I literally ran through the shower, grabbed the lilac silk camisole that barely covered my buttocks. I had bought it the day after we had placed the bet, but I hadn't told Harry, I wanted him to have fun too if I won.

Grabbing my perfume from the huge shelf in our bathroom, I sprayed it on my neck, between my breasts and wrists. I untied my hair and that was it.

A beautiful hot girl.

I lay down in the middle of our bed and crossed my legs waiting for Harry to arrive, I grabbed my cell phone that I had left on the bedside table and looked for a song in the playlist setting it on the TV installed on the wall of the room.

"Babe, how about we plant..." Harry opened the door and faced me "...Daisies outside, but what's that? I lost the bet..." His mischievous grin appeared in moments.

"We can both win the bet, Mr. Styles." I blinked returning the smile.

Harry was wearing a white button down shirt with sleeves, there was a Celtics logo printed on it with dark maroon pants matching the top and black all stars.

His hand hooked on the first button of his blouse, but I stopped him.

"No sir... I want to see you take off your clothes, but slowly and with background music." I lifted my body and spread my legs a little, giving Harry the view to see that I was wearing the panties he loved most on my body.

Grabbing the TV remote, I put the music on. Harry had his hands resting on his waist, his cheeks had blushed repeatedly and his head was shaking negatively.

"Come on, baby... This will be my prize," I whimpered a little.

"A strip tease, honey? You swear?" He laughed nervously, he really didn't expect it.

"I've already done it for you and you know how much I like this song. I stood up and went bouncing over to Harry, his hands sliding from my waist to my buttocks, where I could feel his fingers pressing hard into my flesh to the point where I could feel the frosting of his rings.

Kissing the jaw that I idolized so much, I moved slowly down to Harry's neck, and he closed his eyes with a sigh and nodded.

I kissed him and turned my back to the edge of the bed, biting my lips to hold back my victory shout.

I went back to the music from the beginning after groping around the bed for my cell phone, Harry had dimmed the light even more, letting only the brightness of the full moon shining through the glass illuminate his body.

Harry's fingers slowly unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing the tattoo of birds and the butterfly on top of his belly.

He looked down at me, his eyes staring into mine as I felt my breathing become heavy. I didn't deny how much power Harry had over me, nothing to do with S&M, but he exuded sympathy and sensuality, and it held me in a surprising way.

As soon as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, it fell from his shoulders to the floor, I don't know if he had done it on purpose as I rambled on, but the V-shaped line giving the path to my happiness was showing in conjunction with the branch tattoos.

I could feel my panties getting wet. Harry blinked slowly at me, which made me bite my lips as a reflex.

Holding the button of his pants like it was the heaviest thing in the world, Harry brought out his tattooed biceps, I wanted him to hold me tight with those arms and I had Harry's physical trainer to thank for that, he really went all out with his training routines.

The button on his pants was like a signal to come back from my thoughts "Stop dreaming and focus on me, (Y/N), I'm here and I'm your man!"

Okay, I am no longer feeling my legs, only the river that had formed between them.

Walking slowly over to me, Harry held my face tilting it so that I could look at him. I struggled to find words due to the closeness and warmth being emanated from the palm of his hands. "I'm just admiring you, Hazz..."

Leaning his face up to my ear, Harry let out "I make you hot, baby girl?" I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I noticed his erection strongly marking his pants, making my mouth water, I just moaned softly in agreement.

With that, he planted a kiss just below my ear before continuing down my neck and along my collarbone. His teeth brushed against my skin a few times, but the feel of his tongue soothing each spot made me cry out for him between softer moans.

Over the top of the sweater, he reached for my breasts, Harry kneading them, until his fingers laced through the shoulder straps and down my arms.

Putting one knee between my legs, Harry slipped his arm around my waist and pushed my body to the middle of the bed.

Lying on top of me and with my breasts already showing, he deftly caressed one while his mouth worked on another nipple, gently flicking and swirling his tongue around it.

I arched my back involuntarily and my fingers tugged at his hair with the sensation. "Harry." I sighed his name between the faint moans escaping my lips.

"You are as sweet as your scent, my woman," he murmurs against my skin. "I need to taste you for the rest of my life, know this."

"Hmm" I murmur as he moves to stand between my legs, gently pulling my panties down in one swift motion. He settles into place, kissing the inside of my thigh, stopping before where I needed it most, doing the same with my other thigh. "Stop teasing," I beg.

Harry chuckled lightly. "Patience, dear."

But as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he runs his finger through my folds, stopping at my clit, applying enough pressure to make my head fall back against the pillow.

He quickly replaces his finger with his mouth, kissing my clit before sliding his tongue down my slit, teasing my already wet entrance.

Harry places his mouth back on my clit, swirling his tongue around and flicking it. He hums against me, enjoying the noises he is causing in me, and my back arches out of the bed.

"Don't stop," I exhale with my eyes closed.

I feel him shove two fingers inside me, and from that moment on, I that I wouldn't last much longer. As he pumped his fingers firmly, I could feel that euphoria approaching fast.

"I'm going to cum," I grunted. "Fuck!"

"Mhm," he hums against me, "But already, my love?"

My eyes close harder as the orgasm coursed through my body.

My thighs trembled as Harry continues to work. He slowed the movement of his fingers and used his other hand to rub his side gently.

When I opened my eyes again, his face was in front of me. "Hi," he whispers and leans in for a brief kiss.

Time to reciprocate, I thought already stretching my hand towards his member, he interrupts me by grabbing my wrist and I face him "Today is about the winner...," he says. "And now, I need to be inside you." "I like that, love..." I confessed. With a teasing laugh, Harry kneels between my legs and removes his pants with his underwear, leaving his cock pointed up and with its lubricated little head in my field of vision.

Without time to think much, my admiration turns into a groan as I feel him begin to thrust into me.

"Great game, lovie!" he teases and I let out a gasping laugh. He gives me a second to relax and adjust, nudging his side and taking my hand, intertwining my fingers with his.

"Still with me?"

I exhale and smile at him. "Yes, keep going."

It takes a few strokes before he is fully in me, Harry sets a steady pace, and I revel in the pleasure.

"Shit," he utters. "Do you feel as good as I do, baby?"

I can't say much except moan as I feel him stretching me taut. Harry places his thumb on my clit and begins rubbing in tight circles. My eyes almost roll back, and I can feel the next orgasm growing inside me.

"I'm close," he groans hoarsely. "I want you to cum with me, baby."

I whimper as I hear his tone and nod my head. His movements become faster and his breathing becomes more irregular.

"Oh, God," I say choking, as my body begins to tremble with his second orgasm. "So good, Harry..."

The supreme sensation makes me involuntarily squeeze his member inside me. Harry stands still and settles down, and with a groan, I feel him release himself inside me.

He rests his forehead against my shoulder as we both try to catch our breath. I rub his back slowly, feeling my fingernails leave some marks.

When he lifts his head, Harry had a few drops of sweat all over his face, but without taking my beloved smile away... "I never thought I would say this, but I hope the Lakers win more often from now on."

I give a muffled laugh stealing a kiss.

Lakers... win again, please.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey you! If you like it, please tell me to keep encouraging me.

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #14

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

[AO3]

~POV Mori~

I woke up when it was still dark out. Only the faintest light came in my windows.

I hadn't done anything yesterday. Just laid down and rested for the first time in a long time. The doctor's were convinced I needed one more day of rest, but I knew I was already better. When was the last time I had just let my body rest like that when I wasn't sick? I couldn't remember. This peace was nice.

The quiet of sunrise was only broken by the faint sound of bird calls in the distance. I sat up and closed my eyes. I focused everything on my other senses. I couldn't hear the ocean easily from here. I had wanted to use the sounds of the waves to meditate, but I would just have to do without.

It had been a few days since I last checked in with myself and really focused inward. I could still feel them, all of the Black Rukh that had merged with me back in Balbadd. They were much calmer than before. And they felt like a part of me now, like I might be incomplete if they were suddenly gone. I knew each one from the dreams too. Their lives were mine and each also now knew my life as their own.

Going through all of their lives on the ship would have been painful even without being sick. These were angry souls and they did not welcome the inner peace I was offering easily, but a person's Rukh doesn't lie. After reading this world's truth through my memories they all calmed.

All of us lived lives of loss and poverty and trauma. That must have been another part of why we were able to fully merge in such a short time.

As Black Rukh they couldn't return to the Great Flow where the rest of their loved ones were, but they at least had each other within me.

It was a very strange feeling.

And along with their lives and Rukh, their magoi was also now mine. What had felt like a small pool now felt like a large lake. I had a lot more magoi at my disposal now that they were fully integrated with me.

The Great Bell range and I grounded myself in the present.

Only then did it occur to me that I was probably sick, and suffering from the influx of Rukh separately at the same time. It had been both all along. Whatever illness I had was worsened by my situation with the Rukh. I hadn't lost my magoi manipulation during it, but it was probably learning it ahead of time that had saved me. There's no way such a large amount of Rukh entering me wouldn't have made my body unstable.

Would the doctors understand if I explained it to them? I should ask Sinbad before saying something unnecessary.

The dim light from my windows called to me. I got out of my bed, put on my glasses, and sat on the sill of one them at the encouragement of the waves.

Like this, I could look down and see the Palace court yard. On the other side of the court yard were the Silver Scorpio (martial arts training), and Black Libra (libraries & schools) Towers, behind them to the left was the Red Cancer Tower (military) and fully to the left was the Purple Leo Tower where Sinbad lived. Since I was on a high floor I could easily see all of the towers of the Palace from my windows -all except the White Capricorn Tower where Ja'far does most of his work since that building was on the other side of this one.

It was so strange. Looking at all this made it real that I was really here. How many times had I reread or rewatched scenes wondering what it would feel like to be here?

I rested my head on the window frame as I watched the growing light from the sunrise.

The guards changed.

The sun was fully risen. Ja'far would be waking up Sinbad soon if he hadn't already.

Two people walked out of the Purple Leo Tower -a guard and a woman. She wasn't wearing a uniform. In fact she was wearing less than the citizens I saw the other day.

"Oh, right."

Sinbad has a call girl see to him after Ja'far wakes him up.

I had the 3rd fan book for the anime which contains a day-in-the-life for a bunch of the main characters. It was only in Japanese, but I had learned enough (and could look up what I didn't know) to at least read his schedule.

The direct translation was for a "temporary woman" which from what I've found is the Japanese term for a fem sex worker. I've seen some translations for Magi's extra material refer to them as "call girls" so that was the term I chose to use.

The franchise used the word "harem" in a bunch of places, but purposely didn't use it here. That combined with an omake of Sinbad having a nightmare about being married and having a harem made it clear that Sinbad did not have a harem; he had the whole red-light district of his country to choose from.

Hold on... That book wasn't supposed to reach my house until after I had Isekaied so how did I know it's contents? There were barely any scans or photos of pages online-

*Knock knock*

My thoughts

were cut off when breakfast arrived -with more medicine of course.

---

~POV Sinbad~

Nearly a week had passed since King Sinbad had arrived home. There was a lot to catch up on. As much as he wanted to finally relax after everything that happened in Balbadd he didn't really have the time for it. Even after catching up he would still have to prepare for his trip to the Kou Empire. And Ja'far wasn't letting him forget either responsibility.

None of this stopped him from having his slow mornings. He at least gave himself that little slice of heaven.

This was business as usual -at least it was supposed to be- but Sinbad couldn't shake a growing feeling that he couldn't name. It was making him unsettled. The waves didn't give him any answers and drinking hadn't made it go away. It felt similar to missing important.

He wasn't missing any paperwork. There had been an issue with one of their supply ships going missing, and another being delayed, but he had already decided how to proceed. He was definitely interested in the progress the Black Libra Tower was making with testing Mori's theories, but the experiments would take time and they had already scheduled a meeting for an update. The new guests were still settling in. Alibaba was a mess and Aladdin was only marginally better the last time he had visited, but Morgiana was fine and already training with Masrur regularly. According to the doctors reports, Mori would be better in another day or so, and the reports he got from the maids said she was resting every day after giving that partial scroll.

Maybe this was impatience. Aside from his paperwork, everything interesting was either done or waiting for the next step.

Sinbad often walked his country in the evening, but there was no reason he couldn't check on things now. He didn't have time to go for a walk at that moment, but he could spare the magoi needed to use Zepar and fly around the country using the bird he had possessed with the Djinn's power. This wouldn't be the first time he'd done this while working on paperwork.

The bird was sitting on a railing in the city center when Sinbad took over. From this spot he could make some quick rounds in the city and then maybe make a stop in the Black Libra Tower to get a sneak peak at what they had found out so far.

The same old gossip filled most of the streets. Some price complaints, who just had a child, how work was going...

"You're serious? A prophet?”

"My husband saw the scrolls she made from her visions with his own two eyes."

Now that was new gossip.

Sinbad had the bird land near by the two women.

"Oh? What was in them?"

"He said it was like reading secrets of the world."

"Really???"

"Mhmm." She nodded. "Not everyone believes it though so they are all working to test her writing."

"Didn't you just say she was brought in by our King? Do they really think he'd be fooled by some false prophet?"

"I said the same thing! And you know what my husband said? He said that they need to find proof even if they believe the Prophet because otherwise we won't be able to prove it to our allied countries."

"I guess that makes sense..."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh! I think I might know what she looks like!”

"What? How? You only learned about her just now."

"When King Sinbad came home, there was a girl on some magical flying cloth, remember? That has to have been the Prophet!"

"I think you're right!"

To two moved on to some other gossip and King had the bird fly towards the Palace. Listening to talk about his Beautiful Prophet reminded him of his mission to peek at what was happening in the Black Libra Tower. Being able to bypass the stairs and the gates made the journey much faster.

The Sun was already in the western side of the sky. Shadows were cast onto the court yard from the Black Libra Tower. The stone of the Green Sagittarius Tower was nearly blinding white from the direct light. Color flashed in the corner of his eye as the bird flew past the upper levels of the guest tower. Before his thoughts had fully registered the familiar shade of nearly black indigo, Sinbad was guiding the bird to investigate. He landed on the railing of one of the windows and looked at the young woman resting against that same window's frame.

Mori looked just as surprised to see a bird land right in front of her as he was to be there. Sinbad had purposely been avoiding using Zepar to spy on Mori since she somehow knew that he had eavesdropped on her before. It had been days since he last saw her, so when she was suddenly an option-

"Heh hehe"

Mori's chuckle and smile took his full attention. He didn't know what had made her laugh, but he hoped she'd do it again.

"Sir, are you aware you are a bird?” After the words passed her lips she was struck by a giggle fit.

Sinbad had no idea what she was thinking or why she had said that to a bird, but he was hearing her voice for the first time in nearly a week so he'd worry about figuring it out later.

When Mori finished laughing at her own joke she leaned her head to the side and watched him. Her hair shifted and another lock spilled over her shoulder. The sight brought attention to the low neckline of the dress she was wearing. If Sinbad was there in person he would have brushed her hair out of the way just to have an excuse to touch her.

"Did you miss me that much?" Her voice was soft and a bit playful. "You didn't have to use Zepar to visit me."

Mori knew it was him! Sinbad jolted and his head hit the back of his chair in his office. How could she tell? Only magicians could see magoi and Rukh to see the spell active on the bird.

"Sin, is something wrong?-” Ja'far had just entered the room to give his afternoon report.

King Sinbad raised a hand for him to be quiet and tapped Zepar's ring to explain the situation. He didn't want to talk and miss something Mori said or did.

The General's expression turned serious and nodded as he went quiet.

When Mori didn't get a response from the bird she added, "Are you surprised that I knew it was you?" Her smile was warm as the sun. "I have read your Fate many times, so I will always recognize you, my King."

Normally, the idea that someone could see through Zepar's magic would concern him, but this didn't. It strengthened his belief that Fate had guided Mori to him.

And the affectionate way she said "my King" at the end made him smile. The waves had moved like this a few times like the last time he had seen her in person, and when he learned she could also feel the waves. The Great Flow of the Rukh was guiding them to the Fate he could see, the one where she lived the rest of her life by his side.

Ja'far sighed. "Just let me know when I can give you my report."

Mori whipped her head towards the door to her room. "They're here early."

There were the sounds of people walking in the hallway, but no voices to denounce who, or their destination. All the same, Mori got up and walked to the door. She opened it before the doctors had a chance to knock.

"How did you...?" One of the doctors asked.

"I recognized the sound of your footsteps," was her answer.

"I see.... And how are you feeling today?"

Mori walked into her room, and spared a glance at the bird still watching her from the window. "I feel fine. Just like yesterday." She turned back towards the door and sat on the edge of her bed. "So can I finally leave this room?"

The doctors were understanding but they still were going to do a full check up first.

Even without the waves it was obvious that Mori was going to be marked as full health. Sinbad would prefer to go see her immediately and give her a tour of the Palace personally, but he was still a King with responsibilities. "Ja'far, Mori has just been declared healthy. What do you think of everyone having dinner together to get everyone better aquatinted?"

"I didn't hear anything about-” Ja'far started and then cut himself when he realized. "Were you just using Zepar to spy on her??"

"Of course not." Sinbad said with all of the confidence of the King he was. "I flew directly to her and she recognized me instantly. I wasn't spying at all."

"She recognized you??" Of course he'd be shocked.

King Sinbad laughed. "She did. Though she was surprised to see me."

"I bet she was surprised to suddenly see a bird in her room. What made you think to use Zepar instead of visiting her in person? You're already getting regular reports on her condition." Ja'far always acted as a buzz kill.

It didn't stop Sinbad from laughing at the situation before finally asking for that report he postponed earlier -conveniently avoiding answering Ja'far's question.

The magician in Mori's room was talking. "Would you be interested in visiting the Black Libra Tower with us? We can show you how the experiments are going. And if possible, would you be willing to answer some questions?"

That was an understandable request, but it could wear her out.

The Prophet was facing away from the windows so Sinbad couldn't see her expression. "I'd really like that actually." But he could hear the excitement growing in her voice.

"Let me get changed real quick." Mori disappeared behind her folding wall and emerged in the outfit he met her in.

Sinbad did not drop control of the bird, but he also didn't follow Mori out of her room. Instead he waited in the window sill until he saw her enter the courtyard and then had the bird fly to the Black Libra Tower.

---

As soon as he finished whatever last minute things Ja'far was about to add to his pile, Sinbad would go to the Black Libra Tower and surprise his Beautiful Prophet in person.

~POV Mori~

In the manga and in the anime the only areas shown of the Black Libra Tower were Yamuraiha's office/lab and one of the libraries. I was more than curious about the rest of the facilities.

The first room seemed to be a reception area and had a map of the tower. I only got to glance at the separations between the libraries, offices and class rooms before a tall and lanky magician walked up to us.

"Is this her??” Her short ponytail bounced as she looked between me and my guides.

Isa, the magician who had been taking care of me the past few days, introduced me. "This is Lady Mori, the Prophet!” He acted like he was showing off the coolest toy on the playground.

The tall woman got right up in my face. "I knew she had to be the Prophet! The Rukh don't normally move this way around people."

Before I got to respond she started rambling comments and questions that covered everything in maroon and peacock blue getting sponged across a cream canvas. I stepped back and Isa cut her off. "Lady Mori will be answering everyone's questions in time. We were just on our way to see Yamuraiha so I can show her how everything has been coming along. You are welcome to join us."

She definitely joined us. As did many others who spotted us or were called over by others in our procession.

We walked through a few library areas, and up a few flights of stairs. As we passed various rooms and areas I was told what or who would be inside, but I wouldn't remember any of the specifics until I had a chance to use the space and explore on my own. What did stick was that most of the classrooms were next to the libraries and the labs were near the offices.

Yamuraiha must have heard our group from down the hall because her head popped out from one of the rooms ahead of us. "What is going on out here??” Then she made eye contact with me. "It's you!!"

That made me smile. I fought back responding 'it's me!' like I would with my friends. "I'm Mori. I'm glad I'm finally getting the chance to meet you, Yamuraiha!” I stopped walking when I got 3 yards/meters away.

She immediately pulled her staff against her chest with both hands. Her shoulders tensed but she had an enthusiastic smile. "The pleasure is all mine!"

Yamuraiha was amazing, smart, and endearing. I really wanted to be friends with her.

I out stretched my hand to shake hers. "I'm really excited to work with you, and learn more about magic even though I'm not a magician."

"The feeling is mutual!” She took my hand more than matching my excitement. And when she released it said, "Since you're here, would you like to see what we've been working on from the scrolls you gave us?"

"Yes please!”

---

The lab she lead us to was a little down the hall. All of my scrolls were spread out on one table and a bunch of notes and different materials were on an other.

Yamuraiha pulled out parchment that had a complicated magic circle written on it. "We can't do much yet, and it still takes a catalyst and many magicians at once to control the amount of magoi safely but our alchemy magic has made a breakthrough from your writing."

She asked a few of the magicians that came with me to join her. They pointed their staffs and wands at the magic cycle. A large crystal in the room started glowing, and the Rukh lit up the space from within the circle. Specks were pulled out of the pile of ingredients nearby -dirt, scraps paper, a small potted plant- and gathered at the center of the circle. The light got too bright for me to look straight at it and when it faded there was a small dark grey cube in the middle of the circle. It looked like a die with no markings.

Yam explained. "After reading about 'atoms' and 'bonds' in your scrolls it was like finding the missing piece. It will still be a long time before we can perfect the process, and we still can't make anything bigger than this yet, but soon we will be able to make anything we want!"

((In the future I intend to: reference more old memes, describe more of my experience with synesthesia, and explain more basic history and science. SO you all have been warned lol))

I had to respond; I couldn't just continue staring in awe. When I tried to answer I ended up gasping since had forgotten to breathe. I chuckled at my own shock as well as the situation. I looked up at them. "You're all amazing to be able to develop this already from the little I wrote!" I looked back at the stone. "I knew I wrote the keys to Yunan's signature alchemy magic in those scrolls, but to think you've already gotten this far with it -its amazing."

With this -when developed farther- we could make certain materials without having to worry about the pollution, and break things down easily so we won't have to worry about garbage piling up everywhere.

"Did you say Yunan? The Magi, Yunan?" Yamuraiha looked at me with wide eyes.

"Yes." It was my turn to explain. "Yunan is able to use alchemy magic like this on a grand scale. In the Fates I read he will have reason to visit Sindria in about 2 years. He creates a cabin and food in the middle of the Palace court yard so he has somewhere comfortable to stay."

The bird in the window ruffled it's feathers.

"Yunan explains the basic concept of how that magic works when asked, and since I know the science of the physical world I know the details to what he was talking about." My smile widened. "I hope my notes were easy to understand. Please let me know if you have any questions."

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day 21

Prompt: Yandere/Spanking w/ Inoichi

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Yandere, Mutual Pining, Implied Stalking, Mild Dubcon, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Aftercare || Characters: Inoichi Yamanka, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

this fic contains yandere and mild dubcon themes, if that makes you uncomfortable please do not read!

With a content sigh, you unlocked the front door to your apartment, a slight fuzziness blurring your vision and limbs thanks to the alcohol coursing through your veins. Your keys were discarded into the cutesy trinket tray, your shoes kicked off into the ever-growing pile nearby. The date was an okay one, nothing extremely exciting but, hey, he was cute and it was a fun time. It may have sounded obnoxious when said out loud, but no men your age interested you. Not like you didn't give a plethora of them chances, and you still made friends with most of them. You just never seemed to form that romantic attachment you craved so desperately. What that said about your mental health wasn't totally lost on you, but not like you could (or wanted) to do a whole lot about it.

The sweater covering your shoulders was thrown onto a chair, your constricting belt quickly following as you made your way to your bedroom. At first, you didn't notice it, didn't notice anything at all. You simply continued walking on past the kitchen and living room, into your bedroom where you stripped your shirt and pants off. Trudging back out to the bathroom in your underwear and bra, your brows furrowed. You didn't remember turning one of the lights on… Chalking it up to the kitchen stove light you always left on, you continued your mission of brushing your teeth and face. When you came back out of the bathroom, you headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, freezing when you saw a figure sitting in one of your chairs, contently reading a book.

"S-Sir?!" the big kitchen light was on, illuminating the stoic face of one of Konoha's strongest shinobi.

The older blond man placed his book down, seeming annoyed it took you this long to notice him before he started with a huff, "I pay all my employees well, even ones as low down on the ladder as you. One would think that allows for better locks. And it's about time you arrived home, considering you have work tomorrow, no?"

Confusion was about the only emotion you could feel as your boss all but scolded you, besides the dull horny you always felt when it came to the man in front of you, though you suppressed that part for now, "Better wha- What the hell are you doing in my house?!"

Inoichi stood slowly, towering over you and making you regret the harsh tone you used, "Because it seems you forgot whom you belong to, dearest rosebud."

Besides the fact that his reply gave you more questions than answers, you silently gasped at the pet name he used. It was the same pet name your secret admirer had been using for you. You never saw the constant flower bouquets, food deliveries, or expensive gifts as harmful. They were, if anything, an ego boost to you thus far. All delivered to you with the sweetest notes, describing how ethereal you were, and always addressing you as rosebud, albeit also sounding a bit possessive. Additionally, in the six months, you had been receiving gifts, you hadn't been on any dates, instead choosing to focus on your new career supporting the Torture and Interrogation Department. A career that found you moving up the ladder fast, though you were still just doing menial tasks. Briefly, you wondered how much Inoichi had to do with those promotions, but he took a step towards you, cupping your face in his hand, and tore you from your thoughts.

"I think it's about time you come home. To your true home, don't you?"

Your heart thumped loudly in your throat and you nodded against your better judgment, "I do."

The smile you were met with sent a warm tingle through your body, and you returned a smile of your own. Inoichi nodded and picked his book up from the table, his other hand patting the top of your head. The silent praise had your chest swelling with pride for some reason unknown to you. It should have alarmed you how easily you accepted his offer, though you rationalized that you didn't have much choice, fearing that if you rejected him the trained ninja would take you anyways. Better to go willingly than be taken by force, right? Well, that and you were still a bit tipsy.

Before long, you were tucked snugly into the side of the blond man, his arm wrapped protectively around you. The route to his home was longer than it should have been, you suspected he was purposely avoiding the main streets. Being a high ranking shinobi taking a girl home during the early hours of the morning would raise questions. Especially a girl that worked under him. His warm touch was protecting you from the cold and the smell of his expensive cologne was intoxicating. It had you snuggling into his side more, an act which made him smile, he knew his rosebud wouldn't deny him. This definitely proved you deserved a present larger than anything he gifted you previously.

The Yamanaka clan complex was expansive and the main house was nothing to sneeze at either, easily dwarfing your apartment several times over. He led you inside, showing you around and you took notice of how similar his place was to yours. Not in the layout or big furniture pieces, but he had the same type of napkins, your favorite drinks, even your shampoo in his bathroom which you assumed was his daughter's. It didn't dawn on you until he took you on a tour of his room just how deep you were in. In his room, you found clothing that was unmistakably yours, items that had gone missing months ago and some just last week. They ranged from shirts and leggings to underwear and even a pillowcase. You tried not to take note of how some pieces were stained with white spots. Uneasiness began to grow in your gut as you wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into when your phone buzzed with a notification. You pulled it out, only to have Inoichi take it from you and punch in your passcode.

His face soured, "You really think that lowlife deserves a second date? Before you give me even <em>one</em>? Disgusting."

Your date from earlier must have texted back after you replied you wanted to see him again. He was about to slide your phone onto the dresser when it began to ring. If the scowl on his face told you anything, it was, unfortunately, your date calling. The guy did say he preferred talking over text and at the time, you didn't mind, but now, it was really rather annoying.

"Answer it. Reject him. Reject him like you know you want to," the direction was clear and stern, leaving no room for discussion as he thrust the phone in your direction.

Nervously, you took the device from him and answered the call. Rejecting someone, in general, was an anxiety-inducing task, but to have an overbearing admirer glare you down while doing so was all the more nerve-wracking. Your voice wavered slightly as you talked and although Inoichi still frowned, his hands played through your hair, skimming the ends of your locks. The guy on the other end was rightfully confused while you explained you never wanted to see him again because just an hour ago you texted you were looking forward to it. Part of you hoped he would pick up on the odd behavior and come after you, but the realistic part of your brain told you the boy was too daft and a measly coward. The opposite of the man in front of you.

Once the call was complete the smile returned to the blonde's face, "Good flower! I knew you wanted to be with me. But-," his face fell again, a look of complete seriousness that made you swallow hard, "I can't forgive your little indiscretion. Not yet. It seems you need a punishment to truly remind you of whom you belong to, rosebud."

Your face grew cold at the implications, yet still, you allowed Inoichi to lead you towards the bed. He sat on the edge and patted his expansive thighs, hardened with all the training he did. You should be refusing, should be running far, far away from this situation. But, it was too tempting. How many times does the man you fantasize about return your affections so vigorously? Additionally, a spanking from him sounded like time well spent and you did deserve it for trying to date someone else when you were meant for him. You laid yourself across his legs, the pants you haphazardly put on before leaving being tugged down to your knees. His hands caressed your backside, massaging your ass cheeks before giving a playful swat to them.

"Count them. If you lose count we start over. We'll stop when I think you've learned your lesson. Got it?"

You nodded before squeaking out a, "Yes, daddy."

The name seemed to both please and shock the man, as his hand stalled in mid-air before he grinned. Then, he brought his hand down to your cheek, prompting you to call out the number. A second smack was quick to follow onto the other cheek along with a third, his hands only stalling to hear you mutter out the number. Thankfully, he was merciful in his technique, alternating cheeks and making sure to smack the untouched parts of your backside. A couple even landed harshly on your folds, the wetness gathering there only intensifying the pleasure-pain you felt. After spank thirty, it was hard to find an area that wasn't welting up, and so he went over the areas he already smacked. It made it all the more sensitive as your legs jerked slightly and hands clutched at the comforter beneath you. Your ass was raw and bleeding slightly in a few places, yet still, his hands struck you, enjoying each conflicted whine that left your mouth.

At fifty, you prayed he would be finished, but he kept on spanking, making sure to land more smacks over your pussy. He'd make comments that were a mix of degrading praise about how wet you were for him and how well he was going to fuck you. The promise of being railed by the ever-growing hard-on beneath you was the only thing keeping you from begging him to stop. You were determined to be a good girl for your daddy, despite the burning pain you felt on your rear. Somewhere in the midst of the sixties, you actually came on his hand after he smacked your pussy again, earning rumbling praise from the man above you. Finally, at seventy-five, he stopped, most likely because his hands were sore at this point too. Your reprieve was capitalized by him affectionately rubbing and massaging your abused cheeks as if it pained him to hurt you. Without restraint, you whined into his chest as he held you, hips grinding down against his.

He laughed softly and kissed along your jaw, "Have you learned your lesson? Are you ready to accept me as your one and only?"

"Yes, I've learned my lesson, daddy. You're the only one I want in my life. Now and always, please never leave me," you held onto his shirt as you locked gazes with him, your best puppy dog eyes on display.

They worked their intended magic, as you could see his expression soften almost immediately, "Good little blossom. I'll never leave your side and you'll never leave mine. Especially not after we become one, petal."

The notion was intoxicating, being loved by someone so much they'd do anything for you. But right now, the love you needed was physical and with the goal dangling right above your head, you were desperate to reach it. Your hands slid under his shirt and peeled it off, your own being removed soon after. Within a flash, you both were naked and kissing each other feverishly. Inoichi laid back on the bed's pillows, admiring the sight of you perched atop him. You didn't mind being on top, taking the advantage to push his cock into you quickly. As you sank down on him, his hands stroked up and down your thighs, giving a testing thrust up into you. You sat on his cock as much as your body would allow and without hesitation, began to bounce yourself on him. He sighed in pleasure as you wrapped around him so perfectly, telling you he expected nothing less from his perfect rosebud. The praise drove you wild, finally getting the recognition you deserved, albeit in the form of compliments on your sex technique.

When your thigh muscles began to clam up from overuse he laid your body down on top of him. His thick arms wrapped around your torso and he wasted little time in thrusting up into you. Hands caressed your shoulders and he locked gazes with you, unable to tear his eyes away from your face. In the midst of your passionate throes, Inoichi couldn't help but get lost in your otherworldly beauty, only the noises you made and the movement of his hips kept him grounded. It felt like your pussy was made for him, wrapping around him so perfect and driving him insane, he had trouble restraining himself from fucking into you harder. His lips met yours fiercely, kissing and holding onto you like you might disappear at any time. You put a hand on his cheek as you kissed him back and snaked a hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit. Though, your hand was soon removed, being replaced by one of Inoichi's, who explained he was determined to be the one who pleased you. As if you'd have any qualms about that.

His surprisingly smooth fingertips rubbed at your clit and with the constant feeling of his cock pounding against your cervix, you quickly came a second time. Yet still, his fingers kept moving, only stopping for a brief moment to let you ride out your high. The look on his face let you know he was close to orgasm himself, the blush covering his cheeks made your own heat up. Seeing the older blond man so lost in ecstasy, lost in your body, was absolutely pussy clenching. He groaned and held onto you tighter, his face burying into your neck as he moaned your name. The number of times you imagined him calling out your name in pleasure had absolutely nothing on the real thing. You whined into his chest and dug your nails into his shoulder, relishing in the way his cock pounded into your hole, hitting the same spot over and over. Every little thing was mind-blowing when added together and when you heard Inoichi announce he was cumming inside of you, you easily spiraled into another orgasm of your own. You clenched around his twitching cock, milking him for all he was giving you.

After you coaxed a second orgasm from Inoichi you let him pull out, both panting hard and nearly passed out. Yet somehow, he managed to get you into the bathtub and cleaned you up, personally washing you as he whispered constant praises in your ear. You nearly fell asleep like that, if it wouldn't have been for the cold surrounding you once the water was drained. Inoichi sat you down in front of the vanity after he dried your body and affectionately brushed your hair while blow-drying it. Again, the attention and repetitive actions almost put you to sleep, your daddy coaxing you awake with kisses to your jaw. He instructed you to pick out something to wear in the closet while he waited for you in the bed. You assumed he meant to pick something of his to wear for the night, but once you entered the expansive walk-in closet, it all became a bit too clear. The wall opposite of what you assumed was Inoichi's was filled with clothes that fit your exact aesthetic. A few flips through and it confirmed, they were all in your size, some items were exact copies of things you had in your closet, others literal things that you had gone missing. The sight should have disgusted you, creeped you out, something. But looking at the wall of clothes and shoes all you could think of was how thoughtful it was of him to so thoroughly prepare for you moving in.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

[theflashdriver]

A Measure of Trust

Knuckles' birthday is on the horizon, Rouge had schemed up a surprise costume party for him. Unfortunately, a certain blue blur has taken much too long in picking out what he's going to wear, and a pink hedgehog has taken notice. Written for Sonamy/Silvaze Week 2021, but for the pirates or the knights prompt? You'll have to read to find out!

---

Despite his usual arrogant antics, Sonic wasn’t without his share of weaknesses, that much he could freely admit. His cool demeanour tended to slip when it came to open bodies of water and he did like to the centre of attention more than he was willing to admit, but neither of those issues were plaguing him today. No, today’s grievances were derived from a two related yet contrasting sources; the need to plan and being forced to wait.

His issue with the latter was more obvious, his pseudonym was the blue blur for a reason after all. Sticking around in one place just wasn’t his style, he had to feel the beat of ever-changing terrain beneath his sole and watch his surrounding rush by so fast that he could scarcely make them out. No matter how much people watching he did, tapping his right foot all the while, hanging around outside the third costume shop they’d visited today wasn’t achieving the same purpose.

A sigh slipped through his lips as he readjusted his grip on the overlarge boxes stacked up to his chin, each of them a different colour and sealed with a bow. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for his present position… but if he was asked, he’d absolutely point fingers at Rouge, Knuckles and the girl he was presently waiting on. His claim for the echidna was admittedly the lousiest, as this was all happening without his knowledge, but he was the central cause. Having heard that the master emerald’s guardian had never had a birthday party, the bat had seen fit to organise one. The bat’s chosen party type of fancy dress was the hedgehog’s reason to blame the girl currently rummaging through boxes and coat-hangers somewhere behind him, trying to pick out matching costumes.

In truth, Sonic knew that his current circumstance was entirely his own fault. Rouge had passed out the invitations months ago and Tails had literally read the letter to him, just to be sure it wasn’t forgotten. The fox had also reminded him of all this last week but there being seven days till he had to act meant seven more days to put it off. It’d taken Amy’s intervention, a mere half day before the party was set to start, to get him on the right path.

To his credit, while running through station square, Sonic had made a mental note of a hat that seemed to be Knuckles’ style and would make for a good enough gift… but the hedgehog hadn’t given a single thought to his own costume. Apparently being fashionably late and undressed for a surprise costume party was too much of a faux pas. Well, he knew it was but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been destined to happen.

Amy had dragged him out to buy the hat on the spot before insisting that she would help him pick out an outfit. The serious yet excited look on her face had left him unable to come up with a quip or excuse. He supposed he could just have run, just as he could now, but he’d told himself if he showed up late after her offer she’d have a genuine excuse to be mad at him. That was what he’d told himself, but the truth was that his inability to refuse the pink hedgehog was third weakness of his, especially when she’d so plainly planned this out. She’d probably known this was how it’d all play out upon first reading her own invitation.

Her aid had come with a few catches, the first being his status as her luggage caddy for the day; that wasn’t so bad, though he couldn’t help feeling the boxes were meant to weigh him down. It was the other two that were filling his stomach with butterflies; he wasn’t allowed to pick out what he’d be wearing, and he had to stand outside while she picked out all the pieces. He’d stepped into the first costume shop and been overly thoroughly measured before being promptly kicked out. Every garb and accessory she’d brought out since was so thoroughly packaged that he had no chance of guessing what was in store.

He’d tried not to think too about it too much, but boredom had made him laps a handful of times. They were here for his costume, not hers, which implied Amy had already picked out what she was wearing. The moment she’d insisted on her plan he’d known they’d end up matching or contrasting in some way, and that’d only fed his potential embarrassment. The most savoury hypothetical that he’d managed to imagine was that he’d be the knight to her princess, at least the visor of his helmet would hide his embarrassment. With Amy at the reigns though, and all the time she’d had to plan, he really doubted it’d be so simple.

Sonic shut his eyes and leaned harder against the side of the building; just how much longer would she take? They’d been to three different costume shops, three! Whatever she had planned had to be elaborate; he would have picked up whatever was nearest the door and called it a day or wrapped himself in toilet roll and claim to be a mummy.

Amy plainly had a vision for what he was going to wear. Maybe she’d pull something specific from one of those corny romantic movies she liked to watch? Perhaps he’d end up more princely than knightly, dressed in some overly restrictive ensemble? That was what bugged him the most, not something he didn’t like but that it’d keep him from movi-

“I should have known I’d find you here, Big Blue,” He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who’d said that; he fought to make his grimace a grin.

“Long time no see, Rouge,” Sonic said, keeping his eyes shut so as to avoid the smirk that was surely on her face, “I figured you’d have already picked out your outfit, given that you planned this whole shindig.”

“Oh I have, you don’t have to worry about that sugar,” The hedgehog couldn’t help but hear another set of footsteps come to a halt just in front of him, “Why don’t you go stand next to him, Shadow. You two are matching after all.”

At that, Sonic’s eyes snapped open. Rouge nigh perpetual flirtatious gaze was present, as expected, but just left of her was a figure more obscured by boxes than he was. If it wasn’t for the dark quills poking out from both sides of the tower, and the presence of some metal boots, identification would have been impossible. Without warning, the figure stepped directly toward him, clearly unable to tell where it was going. Sonic took a step to the left only for Shadow to fill where he’d been standing.

“I’m glad I left sorting Red’s outfit to Tails, Amy must have predicted I’d have my hands full,” That was a half-truth, Amy and Tails had talked the bat into handing over that job after hearing what she’d schemed for the guardian, “I’ll see you tonight then, assumedly on Amy’s arm?”

The bat slinked off laughing through the automatic doors, only half covering her mouth with her hand. As soon as she was out of view, the blue blur returned to his prior head raised and eyes closed position. That was just a taste of what was to come tonight… at least the birthday boy would get a laugh out of it.

He opened one eye, glancing to his partner in embarrassment. Though the black hedgehog was a natural scowler, but the look on his face was truly tremendous. He was staring into the box in front of his head as though he was willing it to explode. It looked like, at any second, he might just faint beneath his own exhaustion and frustration at this whole situation.

Seeing a silver lining to this dower situation, and an opportunity to distract himself, Sonic opened his mouth, “So, Shad-

“Not a word,” Shadow cut him off, “I’ll be dealing with your nonsense enough later, I’m sure.”

“Aww, come on, I want to guess what you’re going as. Rouge has a sense of humour; it’ll be something like a vampire, right? That way it won’t be hard for you to stay in character,” Sonic teased.

For a moment, icy silence hung in the air. The dark hedgehog’s eyes closed, “I don’t care what she’s picking out.”

“W-Wait, you trusted Rouge to pick your outfit?” After he asked that though, realisation struck him. Trust had nothing to do with it.

“I don’t care,” Shadow flatly insisted.

“That’s what your mouth says, but your face says you didn’t have a choice,” The blue blur smirked, “Amy stopped her from picking Knuckles’ costume for a reason you-

The sound of the automatic doors sliding open, and the footfalls derived from a familiar set of boots cut Sonic off. His blood ran cold as a long box was added as a new peak for the mountain he was carrying. He scarcely managed to see a set of pink ears line up in front of him.

“Alright my darling, that’ll do,” Amy Rose had returned, Amy Rose had finished her creation, “Let’s get you home and try it all on!”

“Alright, let’s do it,” He managed to grin as he poked his head around, locking eyes with the girl in red.

Immediately he was of two halves, the look on her face had split him in twain. She was beaming with excitement; the red on her cheeks, the smile on her muzzle and brightness in her eyes was overbearing. The hedgehog was so plainly happy with what she’d made, so overjoyed that all she’d planned had come together. That happiness struck him to his core and made the waiting worth it, but it also brought him certainty that this outfit would be his undoing.

She only managed to walk a couple of paces, her happiness unyieldingly blunt in her step, when she came to a sudden halt and looked to her left, “Shadow? Is that you?”

The set of legs beneath a mound of boxes gave no response, so Sonic spoke for it, “Rouge is picking his outfit for tonight.”

“Oh, Shadow…” The sympathy in Amy’s voice only lasted for a moment, being quickly replaced by a lecturing tone as she puffed up her cheeks, “Well, after tonight I’m sure you’ll have learned your lesson, just as I’m sure my darling Sonic will.”

Up until her last claim, seeing Amy talk down to the once named ultimate life form had been the highlight of the speedster’s day. Instead, it was just another source of conflicting joy and fear. Like two ships crossing in the night, without another word, Sonic walked past Shadow to catch up with Amy.

He wasn’t used to moving like this, walking slow to keep everything balanced. Usually, the only thing he could see was what was directly in front of him, now he was reliant on Amy to carve him a path through the people walking Station Square. Just looking at her from behind all these boxes, the sight of her red dress and boots, was conjuring more theories. He’d ended up a werehog due to one of Eggman’s schemes, would she make herself red riding hood? Maybe they’d visited so many places because she’d been looking to perfectly recreate that style?

Haphazardly poking his head out from behind the pile, seeing an opening, he rushed forward to walk next to her, “So…”

“So?” She cocked her head, plainly already aware of what he was going to ask but enjoying dragging it out.

“Now that you’ve picked everything out, I get to know what I’ll be dressed as. That was the deal,” He reminded her.

“The deal was that I get to pick out your outfit and you don’t get to know what it is,” She responded, rubbing her chin and pretending to be in deep thought, “I don’t remember saying I had to tell you what it was.”

“So, I can just open the boxes now?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” A sing song tone had entered her voice, “Besides, do you want to reveal my decision with all these eyes around?” That was a fair point, if he was set to be the nutcracker for an evening, he didn’t much want to pull the outfit out now, “My flat’s just a couple blocks away, after all this, I’m sure you can wait five more minutes.”

“Just five minutes till the embarrassment really starts,” He hummed, being forced in behind her by the passing of a group.

“Don’t you trust me, my darling?” She sounded from ahead.

“Ames, I trust you with my life,” Sonic honestly responded, but he wanted to match her teasing, “But I know not to trust you with the little things, you know you can take advantage of those.”

“Well, if my choice really embarrasses you, we can always swap. I’m sure I’ll look quite dashing in what I’ve picked you out, almost as handsome as you would,” She grinned back at him again and he had to duck behind the boxes, for whatever reason his face felt hot.

“Y-Yeah, well,” He muttered, biting his tongue. The only comebacks the came to mind played similarly to the half compliment she’d just given; he didn’t have the will for that sort of teasing right now.

As a result of his heavy tongue, the remaining walk back to her place was relatively quiet and left him with far too much time for speculation. The elevator trip up to her apartment was even more difficult, being side by side with her meant perpetually catching her excited grin and the dual mirrors in the metal box didn’t much help him avoid it. Amy Rose would never truly hurt him, physically or emotionally, he knew that for sure, but teasing was more than fair game. After all the times he’d jokingly run off and talked about dates, this did rather feel like karma.

He didn’t drag his feet though as they alighted the elevator and took the small walk to her door. The instant it was unlocked however, the scent of flowers just about knocked him from his feet. He’d been in Amy’s flat a handful of times, mostly just to escape the rain or crash for a night, and it never failed to perfectly reflect its inhabitant.

It was as if he’d stepped into valentine’s day as he made his way through the door and into her combined kitchen-dining room; pink, red and white were absolutely everywhere, from the tablecloth to the walls to the painted wooden fixtures. Even in the middle of the table, perfectly pristine and unwilted, sat a large bouquet that contained half a dozen red roses and various pink flowers he couldn’t identify. Admittedly only this room was that overpowering, her living room was far more regular looking, but the space’s first impression was certainly strong.

Finally, Sonic managed to set down the ludicrous pile of boxes on the kitchen table. Quickly, he managed to separate out the round ribboned hatbox that contained his gift for Knuckles and set it aside. A cold sweat swept down his back as he looked upon the four other boxes, he’d been made to carry for so long. While only one of them truly had any heft, Amy had made sure to have them sealed as though they were presents. The serious of difficult to carry shapes this had resulted in were not only difficult to carry but truly gave zero clarity regarding their contents. If he had to guess, he’d say the heaviest box contained shoes, but he didn’t have to wait any longer!

As Sonic reached to undo the first bow however, a single finger came down to hold the knot in place, “Not yet, my darling.”

“Eh?” He looked up only to be met with the pink hedgehog’s bright green eyes, “What’s holding up the show?”

“What you said before hurt me so badly,” Amy pouted, “I need to prove that you can trust me with the silly little things.”

“What’re you getting at Ames?” His bit back a stutter, totally lost about what was on its way.

Bounce still in her step despite the theatrics, the pink hedgehog slipped around the table and into her kitchen. She quickly returned with a pink dishtowel in her hands and a cunning look in her eyes. Immediately Sonic understood her plan and an embarrassed, wiry, smile crept onto his lips.

“I said you don’t get to know what your costume is,” When it became apparent that he didn’t understand her plan, she smiled oh so sweetly, “If your blindfolded, you’ll have to trust me to put your costume on.”

“Really, Ames? I can’t even dress myself?” He snorted, trying to play off her suggestion as a joke.

“Well, considering your usual attire, I’m not sure you know how to,” She only half fought back her laugh, “Have you ever even worn a shirt?”

“I’ve…” His mind went blank as he thought back, “Worn jackets?”

“You never even button them up though. You just sling them over your shoulders and decide that’s good enough, regardless of the weather,” She correctly established, but, rather than cockiness or excitement, a certain sincerity crossed her face, “I want your first view of it to be the full picture, everything put together,” She seemed to be aware of just how foolish this was, but it seemed like she’d planned it too, “There’s not that much to it, just some accessories, it’ll barely take me five minutes.”

Sonic hesitated, feeling his face grow warmer. He’d said no to Amy in embarrassing situations like this countless times, she’d ask for a date and he’d run off and she’d follow, that was the way things worked. Sure, he’d let her catch up in the end and they’d hang out for a while, usually doing something close to what she had planned, but by that time he’d have cooled off and come up with quips. With how late he’d left all this, there was no time or space to run. Unless he truly said no to her, he’d just had to face whatever she’d schemed up. Though he said no to her a lot, it’d never been wholeheartedly.

“At this point, what’s five more minutes,” He sighed, running his hand through his quills, “If it’s really what you want, then fine,” It was just so embarrassing, he had to do something, “No pictures or anything until after I’ve seen it though, alright?”

By the time he’d dared look down her eyes were sparkling like emeralds, enthusiasm had claimed her, “Deal!” She pushed the tablecloth into his gut, practically bouncing, “Put it on and don’t peek, I’ll try to be quick.”

Swallowing his embarrassment, the hedgehog tied the cloth behind his head. For a moment there was silence between them, by the wind on his nose he could tell she was doing something to check he was truly blinded.

Suddenly, a set of hands were on his shoulders, “You’ll need to bend down just a little,” He acquiesced immediately, and her fingers left him, “Now, where to start…”

“The beginning probably,” His nerves had forced a quip loose, he really hoped his muzzle wasn’t as red as it felt.

Her snort, followed by the shifting of boxes, only made that heat worse. Something about her contact, so gentle when she knew she could be so strong, struck a chord deep in his gut. Amy rivalled Knuckles in terms of strength, Sonic had seen her swing her hammer hard enough to behead metallic titans. Having her take control away from him and then so gently ask him for something she could take was just so heart wrenching yet surreal.

Her next contact sent the same static up his spine; she took hold of his right hand, raising it to be more accessible. Her fingers went from loosely locked around his wrist to fiddling with the hem of his glove and soon that garment was fully removed. Soon after, equally gently, a glove made from a thicker material with a wider cuff made its way onto his hand.

Reflexively, Sonic raised his left for easy access only to hear, “Thank you,” Uttered in response.

Trying to guess an outfit from the internal feeling of a single glove was foolish at best but when he closed his fist, he didn’t feel pointed nails. Well, that probably ruled out him going as the werehog. Puzzlement crept into his mind again as she finished with the left hand; the gloves were matching, that was clear.

Before he could think any further, her voice caught his ears, “Turn around.”

He spun on his heel, trying to make the action look cooler than it had any right to be. The hedgehog felt anything but cool however when she stretched over his back, pressing a loose shirt to his back before pulling the sleeves along his arms. It took her a little bit of shifting to fit the holes in its back, likely custom cut in the shop to fit his spines. He managed to keep cool until she moved at his neck, plainly fiddling with the shirt’s collar, before reaching around to do up his buttons. Did there have to be so many of them? This was why he never closed his jackets, it felt so restrictive! He was getting hotter and hotter in the face.

Well, it was a fun excuse to think about. She seemed to hang on the top two sets of buttons for a moment, as if debating closing them, before opting not to. Now with two distinct articles of clothing on, Sonic had no idea what he was set to be, but he felt reasonably confident ruling out that they were going as a knight and a princess. The next garb served to confirm that theory, it was some sort of loose waistcoat that she’d slung over his shoulders like he would a regular jacket.

Things got more confusing with the addition of what felt to be a large belt that was tied around his waist. That wasn’t too bad but then he felt another’s buckle on his shoulder, soon followed by her hand slipping beneath the supposed waistcoat and around his back; for whatever reason, she’d opted to bring that second belt out through one of the spine holes in his back. It was so bizarre, was there something on the belt? He was getting the feeling that he was being dressed as some sort of handsome prince when she reached for his midriff again, looping something new across the belt on his gut.

“A-Are we about done?” His stutter caught him off guard and shut him up.

“Very almost,” She sounded so pleased with herself, but that sound was followed by the dragging of a chair across carpet followed by her hands again arriving on his shoulders, “Sit down, the chair’s just behind you.”

He followed her lead only to then feel her, left hand grazing across her shoulders, walk around to face his front. After a little bit more shuffling he felt her hands in his quills and was relatively confident a crown of some sort was coming. The end result was strange though, he felt something pass between his quills and then heard the familiar sound of fabric knotting. As if that wasn’t a strange enough addition, the touch of her hand on his ear was followed by something cool and metallic being left behind. If he was set to be a prince, it wasn’t like any he could visualise.

“Wait right there, don’t peek, I need to get one last thing!” The excitement had put a tremble into her voice, matched only by the sound of the skip in her step as she rushed past him and through a door.

They hadn’t been exceptionally talkative, but something about the still silence her absence brought perturbed him. Once again, he had been forced into a position of patience. There was a reason he was known as the blue blur and not the azure anchor, stillness like this, unless he was snoozing or distracting himself some other way, just wasn’t his style. Though his face felt cooler, his thoughts were lingering on the various sites she’d made contact across his body. Words like intimate weren’t commonly thought of, let alone used, by the hedgehog, but feeling her fasten button after button couldn’t have been described any other day.

She was just so bouncy and jubilant most of the time, capable of throwing herself at him without a care. Amy Rose wasn’t afraid to use her strength, in moments of need and casual excitement, but her potential for softness always hung beneath those efforts. He’d seen her gently look after Cream and handle flowers with such softness. She was an adventure in and of herself, capable of being so surprising. Maybe that was why, no longer how far or for how long he ran, he’d always let her catch him again, eventually.

Sonic heard the door reopen, but Amy’s pace was bizarrely slow. He could hear the rubbing of fabric and the pad of very slow footsteps. Was she wearing some sort of long dress? That would validate his prince and princess theory, but he really didn’t feel like what he understood of his outfit matched it. The fabric rubbing sounded like some sort of strange flapping, it was as if she was waddling in her rapid approach.

“Here’s the final part of your ensemble, just a little something for you to carry!” She shouted bringing his head to snap, eyes still blind.

“Ames, wha-

He was cut off by a sudden form jumping into his lap, a form that weighted the exact same as Amy Rose but was weirdly textured. Whatever she was wearing, it was covered the entirety of her lower half. Anticipation and contemplation built toward climax as he felt her hands on her shoulders again. The feeling of her wrists sliding beyond the sides of his head absolutely renewed the warmth on his muzzle.

While his vision had been very red, the blindfold had been thin enough that his eyes barely had to adjust. He was greeted by Amy’s green eyes and wide grin first, but his eyes were quickly drawn to her forehead and a seashell headdress. From there his gaze was brought down and came to collide with a loose-fitting red shirt. Its sleeves were long rippling, almost like there were waves in fabric. Just beneath her midriff, he identified the source of her slow movement; made of what looked to be a red plastic material, dotted with sequins, was a fish tail.

As he looked down at himself too, it all clicked. Brown mariners gloves for handling ropes, a loose white shirt, a blue overcoat, buckles and belts and sashes. Sonic reached up, feeling what she’d attached to his ear and put through his quills, he was wearing an earring and an orange bandana. She’d made him pirate and herself a mermaid.

“Do you trust me now?” Mermaid spoke with mocking befitting of his stupidity.

“With my life,” The pirate cheekily grinned back.

“What about with everything else?” She asked, putting on a joking pout.

“Well,” He stuck his tongue out, “I trust you with my outfit at least.”

“I suppose that’s a start,” Amy hummed, “I’ll be trusting you to carry me to Tails’ airship and back here tonight, I’m afraid that walking’s not my strong suit.”

“Well, swimming up to a flying island does sound difficult,” He mock rubbed his chin, in thought.

“And I’ve got just the thing to help you,” She reached across and knocked the top off the last, and heaviest, of the boxes. Hitched on two of her fingers, up came a set of brown, “I figured, unlike everything else, you could handle the shoes,” A grin, more teasing than any prior, claimed her muzzle, “You’re used to those after all.”

He took them from her, matching her expression, “Didn’t want to leave the gloves up to chance though, good call.”

“Well, it’s not every day you let me hold your hand,” She repositioned herself, sliding to rest her shoulder on his, “So, seems like I planned this all pretty well then.”

“I can’t deny it,” He shrugged, more than content. Sure it was all a little tight around the chest, but it could be worse and at least his legs were free.

“I’d love to bask in this more, but we should probably get going, the actual party still needs set up and it seems like Rouge could use the extra hands,” The pink hedgehog leaned up and reached for the table, gathering up the boxes that contained their respective gifts for Knuckles and the keys to her flat.

“Only one set of feet though, apparently,” Sonic joked, shifting to hold her before rising, only to be struck with a realisation, “With us decked out like this, Shadow’s gotta have drawn the short straw.”

“Try not to tease him too much, he’ll be embarrassed enough as it is,” Amy half insisted as she was walked toward the door.

Between her as the arms and him as the legs, they managed to make it out and close the door, “Yeah well, if he’s hit rock bottom then I can’t push him down any lower.”

Their back and forth over how much to tease Shadow didn’t get very far by the time they’d reached the bottom floor. The moment they arrived there though, the talk didn’t stand a chance of surviving; with Amy in his arms, Sonic shot off like a rocket. He tore across pavement, skidding and weaving around people and over roads as if they were nothing.

In a matter of moments they’d reached the city’s edge and then, a further three moments later, they’d ran across enough green grass to sight Tail’s workshop. Above, just visible from this distance, Angel Island was hanging. He couldn’t help thinking that Knucklehead would probably be surprised he’d shown up on time, let alone with a halfway decent gift and a good outfit. It’d be a surprise within the greater surprise.

The hedgehog duo slid into the open door of the massive workshop, finding the scent of oil quickly caught up with them. At the heart of the space stood the overlarge plane that Tails had modified to transport not only the party people but the party goods. The mechanic himself was to the back of the room and looked to have just finished putting on his own costume. It was jokingly low tech compared to his usual work, plainly made from carboard boxes with slap on buttons made from loose junk, but the youngster had made himself into a carboard robot. He’d scarcely be identifiable if it wasn’t for the outfit’s cut face and tail holes.

“Hey Tails,” Sonic called across, getting his attention, “Cool costume!”

“You look so cute!” Amy shouted from his arms.

“Thanks guys,” The youngster beamed before throwing a knowing look, “I see Amy caught up with you.”

“Well, I mean, it looks more like I caught her,” Once the words fell from his mouth, he realised he hadn’t played this whole situation off as well as he’d planned. Instead, he tried to change the subject, “What did you end up picking out for Knuckles?”

“Oh, I just put the finishing touches on it,” He picked up what looked to be a heavy-duty briefcase, flipping it open, “I figured he’d want something cool and practical, something that could double as a proper gift.”

Inside was a set of ornate hand axes, a metal breastplate, a pair of metal shoes and a traditional knight’s helm. The whole get up was admittedly giving Sonic some very strange flashbacks to events he was only half certain were dreamed, but he couldn’t deny that the metalwork looked superb. It was all exactly to Knuckles’ style and, if that perhaps dream was to be believed, it’d look great on-

The sound of fast moment coming to a sudden stop, punctuated by three quick footsteps, pulled the blue blur from his thoughts. That was a sound Sonic knew well and could only associate with one prickly fella. It was finally time to see what the bat had made of him.

“Hey Big Blue, fancy seeing you here on ti-

In an instant, the prior gloating confidence seemed to hitch in Rouge throat as Sonic turned and the two pairs came eye to eye. The blue blur found his counterpart dressed in red and brown, with knotted ropes punctuating leather shoes and gloves. A belt with a golden buckle, a red overcoat with shoulder flares, a tricorn hat and an eyepatch made for a dissimilar yet still much too familiar view. The familiarity was again shoved to the forefront with Rouge, the tail that’d come to replace her legs was black and she’d opted for a pale crop top with a matching shark tooth necklace, but the intent so blatantly matched Amy.

Somehow, just as they’d ended up at the same costume shop, both girls had settled on the same concept to share with their partners who’d waited far too long to pick out an outfit.

“Well,” Rouge blinked, for once entirely deadpan and serious, “Two of us need to change.”

[muyurei]

Cultural Relics Are Not To Be Messed With – Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Guanghe Underworld Criminal Organization

sorry for the slow pace of translations 🙇‍♀️ here’s chapter two!

There is a high chance that Dong Mingbo’s already heard of the demon knife Qi Chen had spoken about, probably because despite being the middle-aged man he is, his heart is yet to be diminished and is still full of desire for thrill and vitality, so he looked for and then collected a knife that looked demonic enough in itself and even named it as such. Besides this possibility, this knife could have also been commissioned with the purpose of replicating Long Ya, or the Dragon Tooth knife, and in the need to make it look as realistic as possible, it was also broken and made to look as though it was the real deal with how it’s being restored.

Of course, it wasn’t as though Qi Chen was silly enough to go ahead and ask these questions, so he left his inner thoughts alone and went out of the office, not forgetting to heed to Dong Mingbo’s request of closing the door. He then went downstairs and returned to his workshop.

Guanghe Company’s number of employees was very limited in number. In the two days Qi Chen has spent working here, he’s only seen around a dozen to twenty people, most of them gathered in the large, open office room located on the second floor of Building A. On one side of the office, there were floor-to-ceiling windows that gave the room a lot of light. There were even potted plants arranged near them in an organized manner. Up ahead, there was a semi-open office room only separated from the outside by a translucent glass door, only a little smaller in size. This was the place where the leaders of each team and department in the office stayed in, in which around seven or eight office tables were placed inside.

When Qi Chen came to report in the first say he went here, it was very fortunate for him that the tables in that office were labeled with name plates indicating who occupied that spot, making it easier to navigate around, all of which were likely put up by the respective owners of those office tables. However, there was one unoccupied table among those. It was empty, and it didn’t have a name plate.

Conveniently, at that moment, there was a girl who was a member of the company’s human resources personnel. She pointed at the empty table and told him: “Originally, this was supposed to be where the deputy leader of the executive team sits, but he had been heavily injured the last time he was out on a business trip. He’s been stuck in a comatose for about two or three years now, so the table was emptied and the computer was restarted. It’s very much alright to occupy the table now, though, so don’t worry too much about anything regarding transferring to a new work place.”

Qi Chen: “...Wait just a moment! What do you mean by ‘heavily injured on a business trip and was rendered comatose for two to three years’? What exactly...?”

The girl thought about it for a moment, then replied: “You call it... vegetative state, was it? The word’s vegetative, right? Ah, whatever. He just doesn’t respond or move anymore, like this–” She then rolled her eyes back and tilted her head, showing him an expression of someone who had hemiplegia for a few seconds.

Qi Chen: “...”

“You get that?” The girl returned to her normal appearance. She patted Qi Chen’s shoulder and then added: “That’s not the main point I have here, though. Honestly speaking, you seem all delicate skin and tender flesh there, so I’d kindly like to remind you of something... do you see that desk behind you?”

Qi Chen really wanted to know how the quiet-looking, small-staff girl managed to speak with the atmosphere like that of a White-Bone Demon*, but he pushed this thought down and turned behind him to look at the desk as she told him to. He was greeted with the sight of a frosted acrylic name plate attached to the desk – Executive Team Leader • Long.

(*t/n: white-bone demon, a character from journey to the west. see: https://villains.fandom.com/wiki/Baigujing. in modern business terms though, it refers to women in powerful positions. think of it as though hr girl is speaking with the voice of someone who you’d expect would be the ceo of the place)

“...Ah, a code name?” His mouth twitched as he looked at the single Chinese character that literally meant ‘dragon’.

HR girl shook her head. “No, he really is surnamed Long.”

In the company, workers often had name plates on their desks, usually containing their position, the team or section that they work in, and their full name for easy and convenient identification. For instance, this table in front of Qi Chen had a name plate with Supervisory Team Leader • Hu Yi engraved on it, just like how the usual pattern of name plates in the company go. This person, however, only had their surname engraved on their name plate, which was rather unusual, but other than that, there didn’t seem to be anything else on the desk that seemed strange. Because of this, Qi Chen wondered: Is there something wrong with this team leader?

It was lunchtime, which meant there weren’t any people in the office, so the HR girl didn’t hold back at all in her talking. She pinched her thumb and index finger together, leaving just a little bit of space between them, and said: “Executive Team Leader Long has a... slightly bad temper, so to say. Don’t try to make any mistakes that might provoke him, alright?”

However, despite two days having passed since he first worked here, Qi Chen was unable to see this slightly bad-tempered executive team leader. It was said that he had gone on a business trip, and his return date hasn’t been determined yet. Qi Chen didn’t take the warning too seriously – the executive team and the logistics team are, after all, different from each other. He’ll just have to be careful when it comes to interacting with other teams, especially with their leaders.

He recorded today’s work – the restoration of the Dragon Tooth knife earlier in the morning – into the work log, then looked at the time, only to see that it was time for lunch. Qi Chen had just clicked save when he felt as though the computer screen suddenly bugged out, and a quick, blinding glare from outside the window flashed before his eyes. He blinked, then turned his head to look at the glass of water on the table. It was half-full, and the water inside of it seemed to be shaking, though it wasn’t very obvious unless it was looked at closely. Soon, it stopped, returning back to normal.

“Earthquake...?” Qi Chen muttered below his breath. He couldn’t help but look up – he felt as though there was some slight movement coming from upstairs just now.

Regardless of whether it was an earthquake or something that was being heavily moved upstairs, it had gone by in the blink of an eye. Qi Chen glanced at the ceiling for a second time and then withdrew his gaze, not thinking much of it.

The people in the company was very precise with their mealtimes – they were never too early or too late when it comes to coming and going about with their food. Naturally, Qi Chen always felt that eating was a delight, so after cleaning up his work table, he took out his phone and his wallet, and then he walked out. Behind him, a small, thin, dark-skinned man also proceeded to walk out, looking down at his phone at the same time.

Because of this, the following events happened:

As they walked out of the building, Qi Chen saw a tall figure emerging from the side, who was just about to enter through the door. Before they could accidentally bump into each other, Qi Chen and the tall man were able to stop walking for a moment.

Qi Chen was secretly celebrating in his heart that he managed to avoid an ‘accident gone bad’ when the man who was fiddling with his phone behind him suddenly ran into Qi Chen.

Thump! Qi Chen was then knocked forward and his forehead hit the tall man’s chin.

Qi Chen: “...”

The man hissed and took a step back, holding his jaw in his hand. “Do you even know how to walk?! Just going around with your eyes closed, aren’t you?”

“Sorry.” Qi Chen rubbed his forehead, thinking to himself, I really did just get shot while I was lying down, didn’t I.

(t/n: to get shot at while lying down = to get berated/scolded despite having done nothing on purpose)

He stepped aside to move out of the man’s way, and only then did he notice that the man was holding a cup of coffee in his other hand. However, he probably had to dispose of it soon, considering that the coffee had splashed out just a bit. Not on Qi Chen’s body, though – on the man’s hand, and his iron gray trousers.

“Lao, Lao, Lao– Boss?! Why are you here?!” The little dark-skinned man poked out his head from behind Qi Chen. Seeing the person who they had bumped into, he couldn’t help but stutter and call out weakly, only to end up shrinking back behind Qi Chen.

Qi Chen, who had somehow became a human-shaped shield: “...”

The man was wearing a light gray dress shirt, very akin to the color of smoke, and it looked as though it had been carefully tailored to fit his body – broad-shouldered and long-legged, tall and lean; it made him look very respectable and serious*. If he didn’t have that annoyed expression on his face, he would’ve definitely left an excellent impression on Qi Chen, 100% at that. He couldn’t see the man who was cowering behind Qi Chen, so Qi Chen had to bear the brunt of his scowl. “Am I not allowed here? Would you rather that I’m not?”

(t/n: literally, he looked like a dog. someone who looks upright and dignified but actually has an unpleasant attitude)

The little man paused and thought back to what he said. After thinking about it, he felt as though he really did just sound rather rude earlier, so he poked his head out from behind Qi Chen again and said, “Boss, why come back just now! We missed you to death!”

Qi Chen: “...” What an ever-loyal dog!

(t/n: literally, what a big dog leg. refers to disciples who’d follow their masters around. may or may not be a reference to the “looked like a dog” part in the previous sentences)

However, the man ignored the little man’s buttery words. Instead, he turned to Qi Chen and sized him up with a disdainful expression on his face. He muttered a few words, though because his voice was too low and quiet, Qi Chen only caught wind of the word ‘knife’ and nothing else.

“Ah, by the way boss, just earlier, my head was lowered down because I was scrolling through Weibo... I wasn’t able to see where I was going, so I knocked into him, which resulted to the two of you bumping into each other...” The little man’s voice kept getting quieter and quieter, and while it was evident he was scared, he didn’t forget to clear Qi Chen’s name to his boss.

Qi Chen didn’t mind too much, in all honesty, but he felt around his pockets for a pack of tissues, took one out and handed it to the man: “I’ll get you another cup. Please wipe your hands.”

“No need!” Despite his temperament, the man has profoundly handsome features, and was born with good and smooth skin. At this moment, though, he had a deep frown on his face, looking as though everyone around him owed him eight million in cash, and his voice was full of impatience. He didn’t even glare at the real cause of their accident – he continued to look menacingly at Qi Chen, turning over the sleeves of his light gray dress shirt over his wrists twice so the coffee doesn’t seep into the fabric, and he ignored the tissue in Qi Chen’s hand. He passed by Qi Chen’s outstretched arm, taking a long step forward, and continued to walk to the office room meant for the team and department leaders in the company. Before he left, though, he snorted coldly and said: “Is your head made of granite?”

Qi Chen: “...”

How come he’s the only one here getting blown up by this person’s gunpowder?!

(t/n: gunpowder = anger, annoyance, like how ‘exploding in anger’ goes.)

Qi Chen turned his head and saw that the real-life powder keg had already strode in to the small office room, walking straight to the desk that Qi Chen had stood in front of not too long ago, and put down his coffee cup on the table...

This was obviously the company’s legendary “slightly bad-tempered” Executive Team Leader Long.

Slightly... bad-tempered...

Haha.

Qi Chen looked away, putting the tissue paper he took out earlier into the little man’s hand. “Let’s just go eat now.”

The little man froze for a moment, and up and about he went, trailing after Qi Chen.

“Qi Chen?” The little man looked at the ID that Qi Chen had on him, and then warmly said, “Eh? Xiao Chen, I’m so sorry... I really was just fiddling around with my phone and didn’t look at where I was going... I ended up even getting you disciplined... Because of this, let me treat you to lunch to make up for it! What do you want to eat? Do you want to go to the underground–“

“Underground what?” Qi Chen wasn’t very familiar with this particular area in the business district, so he didn’t know where the nice places to eat in were. However, he does remember that just beyond the traffic light by the company’s gate, there was an underground shopping mall nearby. He thought that that was what the little man had been telling him about, so he nodded and said: “Alright, let’s eat there. I don’t really know my way around here just yet, so I’ll just go with whatever you recommend. Though, it’s really not necessary to treat me. I won’t break or lose anything just by getting scolded by Executive Team Leader Long, so don’t worry about it.”

“About the executive team leader... he sure does have quite the temper, but most of those in business are like that, you know. It’s normal to find someone here who’s that fierce, and it’s not an understatement to say that we’re all pretty afraid of them. I mean, even Supervisory Team Leader Hu doesn’t look very approachable, always standing there with that menacing face... it’s scary. It does make sense, though, given his position in the supervision team.” He followed Qi Chen, telling him the things he knew while gesturing around. “And Ming-jie, you don’t just get to talk to her whenever you want. Most of the time, she gives everyone that glare overflowing with a k*ller’s aura. If the person on the receiving end isn’t used to it, they might just piss their pants out of fear.”

(t/n: jie, literally, sister. sister ming. used to address girls who are older than you.)

Qi Chen: “...”

He walked out of the company area and looked back at the building’s sign with confusion. He asked the little man: “I still know how to read, right?”

The little man: “...”

Qi Chen: “You were talking about the people working in Guanghe Cultural Heritage Conservation Co., Ltd., right?”

The little man: “...”

Qi Chen: “For a moment, I really thought we worked at Guanghe Underworld Criminal Organization.”

The little man: “Sh... Is something not right?”

Qi Chen nodded. “I don’t think anything here is right.”

The little man: “...”

Qi Chen continued to walk towards the underground shopping mall near the traffic light with a solemn expression on his face. The little man immediately caught up to him in two steps, slapping Qi Chen’s back and said: “Wait a moment!”

F*ck! Can a human being even be this strong?!

Qi Chen, who had been ‘patted’ on the back, almost vomited out his kidneys. He looked back at the other man dejectedly and asked: “What?”

The little man replied, “Why are we stepping out of the company?”

“Aren’t we going to the underground mall to eat?” Qi Chen looked puzzled.

The little man took a look at the entrance to the underground mall near them and suddenly remembered that there was indeed a food court inside. “Ah! So you want to eat human food today?”

Qi Chen: “...” What are you even saying!

“Then... what was that underground thing you mentioned earlier?” Qi Chen asked exasperatedly.

The little man turned his head and pointed at the company building. “There’s a cafeteria in the basement floor of our building. You can enter just by swiping your ID.”

“...” The corners of Qi Chen’s mouth twitched. “Do you... usually eat non-human food?”

The little man’s face brightened. “Yes!”

Qi Chen decisively crossed the road. “...No thank you. I think I’ll pass on the company cafeteria for now...”

The little man stood on one side of the road and looked at Qi Chen’s back, muttering to himself: “There’s something wrong here...”

He followed the rope tied to his ID while crossing the road and caught up to Qi Chen in three steps.

The midday sun reflected on the glass windows of the high-rise buildings, the light felt more of a glare to the eyes, blinding anyone who looks. Behind him, there was a heavy traffic, and pedestrians bustled in a stream. When Qi Chen was about to step on the escalator to go to the underground mall, he heard the little man behind him mumble something, and asked him: “Xiao Chen, you wouldn’t happen to be human, would y–“

“AH–!”

Someone let out a shrill shriek not too far from behind them, interrupting the little man’s words. They were both startled, stopping in their tracks and looking back at the commotion. A crowd had formed by the road. Qi Chen didn’t know what happened, only that nothing happened in the road just then. He could vaguely hear a woman crying out loud, and the onlookers let out worried noises.

“I’m not... I... I don’t know how I...”

The words were said rather irregularly in broken stutters, until it didn’t even sound coherent at all.

The author has something to say:

Little theater: Qi Chen: The moment I met you, it felt like eating ☐☐ do you have a grudge against me →_→ Long Ya: You literally filed me all over! Qi Chen: Obviously I had to, it’s not on purpose, but glaring at me and only me, aren’t you afraid that your eyes might fall out →_→ Long Ya: You actually used something so ordinary and stupid as a metal file on me! Qi Chen: File and weld gently my &ss! Long Ya: Now that you’ve mentioned it, you actually f*cking welded me with a welding gun too! Qi Chen: No way to talk properly now [bye bye (t/n: literally, 【手动拜拜. refers to the bye bye hand emoticon on weibo and qq that moves)

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(As of 04/13/21: Edited.)

[pipedream-darling]

Live a Little

My piece for Day 2 of TGGTVAV Week! @tggtvav-week

Dreams | Historical AU | Side Character (Read on AO3)

This party is giving me a tremendous sense of deja vu. It’s the after-party for this year’s Annual Sportspeople of the Year Awards. Monty and I were both nominated for Best Footballer and for Best Media Personality, whatever that even means. Neither of us won either. I don’t care, not really (The player that did win Best Footballer scored two-thirds as many goals as Monty this season… but again. I don’t care.)

The same old formal wear, the same faces. I feel like I’m always at this bloody party. I’m standing in a corner with Monty, who is frowning down into his alcohol-free cocktail. I give him a consolatory nudge.

“Next year.”

“Hmm?” He looks up at me, then laughs. “Oh god. I don’t care. I’m just wondering who on Earth came up with the idea of a virgin mojito.”

“You could always drink tap water, you know.”

“Thrilling.”

I roll my eyes and he sidles up to me, pressing himself against my chest so that he has to stretch his neck to look up at me.

“Let’s go hooooome.”

“Why do you even bother coming to these events if you get bored after an hour?”

“Because I get to see you all dressed up, mostly.” I laugh and he pouts. “Next time, we stay home, and you put on a tuxedo anyway.”

“That would be a waste. You’d take it off within minutes.”

“That’s the fun of it!”

I smirk and lean down to kiss his forehead. “We won’t stay late. It’s good for me to do the rounds at these things. For the Foundation.”

“I suppose,” he says with a sigh, but he doesn’t move away, just buries his face in my chest.

I smile and stroke his hair, then I look up as someone walks over— my heart sinks. Richard Peele. The only man on Earth who doesn’t manage to look attractive in a tux. I nudge Monty slightly and he stands up straight.

“Incoming,” I mumble as Richard approaches. Monty turns to see him, then swears under his breath.

“Boys!” Richard says, his grin as cocky as ever. His aftershave is overpowering. Not for the first time, I wonder how Monty ever hooked up with him without gagging.

“Richard,” Monty greets him, more politely than he deserves.

“Congratulations on your awards!” He fake gasps, clutching his hands to his chest. “Oh wait! You didn’t get any.”

“Peele…” I raise an eyebrow at him. “You weren’t even nominated.”

He shrugs. He looks drunk. “Wouldn’t have wanted a nomination. Whole thing is shit anyway.”

“Well, we’re agreed there.”

“So, what are you two doing hiding away in a corner? Up to no good? What’s the current favourite, Montague? Coke? Speed? I remember your speed phase fondly. You used to be able to go for—“

“Oh, piss off Richard,” Monty cuts in, trying to look unbothered. But I know he isn’t. “Don’t you have any actual friends to talk to?”

I put my arm around Monty’s waist, protectively, and he leans into me. Richard rolls his eyes.

“Got plenty of friends, thanks. Just wanted to check in on everyone’s favourite couple.”

“Well, now you have.” I say, giving him a pointed look. “See you around.”

He curls his lip at me, stepping closer. He’s taller than Monty, but not taller than me. I have a couple of inches on him, but he’s clearly too wasted to be intimidated by this fact.

“You don’t scare me, Newton. We’re not on the pitch now. You can’t accidentally elbow me in the face this time.”

No, but I can definitely punch you on purpose, I think to myself.

I don’t say anything. He huffs, then turns to Monty. “If you ever get bored of this fairy,” he points to me. “And fancy a go with a real man again, you’ve still got my number.”

Monty blinks at him. “I’ll bear that in mind. Cheers.”

Richard gives him a leery look up and down, before giving me one last glare, then stalking away. I can feel Monty’s shoulders tense up where he’s leaning against me, and I’m not much better myself, so I take a deep breath and try to relax.

“Christ. He’s like a cartoon villain.”

“Was he always that ugly?” Monty looks up at me. “I swear he didn’t used to be that ugly. I categorically do not sleep with ugly people.”

“Maybe your standards just got higher after you met me.” He laughs slightly. But it sounds stilted. I squeeze his waist. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I’m not.”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Okay! I am. Slightly.” He sips his drink, pulling a face. “It’s hard not to be bothered when one of your most shameful regrets can walk and talk and embarrass you at parties.”

“He’s just someone you hooked up with. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He scoffs. “You look like you want to scream every time his name is mentioned.”

“Well… he’s…”

“Rude? Obnoxious? Untalented?”

“He makes you feel bad about yourself. I don’t like it.”

Monty pauses at that, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

“You’re the one he called a fairy.”

“Fairy and proud,” I say with a shrug. Monty laughs.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.” I tug at his hand, pulling him away. “Let’s find you something less disgusting to drink”.

We’re standing at the bar, Monty trying to get the perfect selfie while the bartender makes our drinks. He leans into me, trying to get my face into the photo and I smirk.

“Aren’t people bored of seeing me on your Instagram?”

“Why would anyone ever get bored of seeing this face?” He gently bites my cheek, taking another few photos, then finally brings the phone down to review the results. “God, we’re hot.”

I laugh. “Is that what you’re captioning it?”

He starts typing. “Well, now I am.”

I grin and nudge him, then frown when I spot something on the bar a small distance away. A set of keys. I reach over and grab them.

“Someone left their keys.”

“Mmm,” he replies, still busy making his post. “Hand them in.”

I shrug, about to get the bartender’s attention, when Monty glances up then gasps, grabbing my arm.

“Wait.” He snatches the keys from me. “Look!”

He holds them up in front of my face and I frown. “What?”

He huffs, then points at the car key. It has a very tacky leather tag hanging off it, with a gaudy metal Lamborghini logo.

“These are Peele’s car keys!”

I laugh. “God, he really is drunk. We should probably keep hold of them so he doesn’t try to drive home”

Monty winces slightly, and I immediately feel bad, but then he shakes it off. “Don’t you see what an opportunity this is, Perce?”

I give him a look. “Opportunity?”

“Yes! We have that prick’s car keys!” He looks at them, sighing happily. “His beloved Lamborghini.”

I laugh. “And?”

“And! We could play all sorts of tricks on him. We could break into it. Leave his lights on. Drain his battery.”

“You are truly wild.”

He huffs. “Well, what’s your suggestion?”

“My suggestion was handing them in!”

He rolls his eyes, dumping them on the bar again and returning his attention to his phone. I pick up the keys, turning them over in my hands, and I think back to ten minutes ago, when Richard dragged his eyes over Monty’s body. My Monty’s body. Suddenly the need to piss him off is overwhelming.

Why do I always have to be the sensible one?

“However…” Monty looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. “I have always wanted to drive a Lamborghini.”

* * * *

We manage to sneak out without drawing too much attention (and without spotting Richard), taking the lift to the car park beneath the building.

His car isn’t hard to spot. Bright yellow amongst the sea of silver and white Mercedes and BMWs. We walk over to it and Monty looks unimpressed, leaning down to scrub at a little scuff with his sleeve.

“This car is a midlife crisis.”

I laugh. “He’s 26.”

“Well, it’s definitely compensating for—“

“I don’t want to know,” I cut in, leaning down to look in the windows. “I think it’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” He folds his arms, tilting his head at the car. “It’s no Porsche.”

“I swear you love that car more than you love me.”

“Absolutely not.” He walks over and leans down to where I’m crouching to kiss me on the cheek. “But it’s a close second.”

I smile, then hold up the keys. “So? Shall we?”

He frowns. “You were serious?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for a start… you can’t drive, Perce.”

I scoff, pressing the key unlocking the doors. “I’ve had some lessons. And I haven’t had a seizure in a year. Anyway, it’s an automatic. How hard can it be?”

I start to climb into the driver’s seat and Monty grabs my arm. “Perce!”

“Come on!” I grin at him. “Live a little.”

He furrows his brow, but then lets me go, and I slide into the seat, pulling the door shut behind me. A couple of moments later, Monty opens the passenger door and climbs in, mumbling to himself.

“I’ve lived plenty. This is just stupid.”

I look around the car, taking it in. Monty’s car is gorgeous, but this is next level. Every bell and whistle included. It’s a shame it smells like Richard’s pungent aftershave.

I put the key in the ignition and Monty flinches.

“Are you sure, baby?”

I start the engine, and then I grin at him. It must be contagious, because after a pause, he grins right back at me.

“Go on then,” he says, with a resigned shrug. “Show me what you can do.”

I surprise myself. Driving is… surprisingly easy? And this thing can go fast. The roads are thankfully quiet, and I’m pretty sure I’m speeding, but the adrenaline rush is impossible to deny.

Monty is watching me, laughing at the look on my face as I narrowly avoid hitting another kerb. Okay, maybe driving is sort of hard.

“Jesus, Perce!”

“Oops.”

“I hope you’re enjoying your little crime spree. It might be the last thing we ever do.”

I laugh. “Oh, he’s wankered. We’ll take it back in a minute and he won’t even know it was gone.”

“True. As long as you don’t—“ He gasps as I very barely avoid scraping someone’s wing mirror at the side of the road. “Damage it!”

“I won’t!”

“You know what, I resent that you’ve turned me into the reasonable one tonight, but I think I should probably drive us back. Just in case.”

I pout at him. “Five more minutes? Oh, wait! I have an idea.”

I take a left, so sharply that Monty has to grab onto the car door to keep his balance. He shoots me an annoyed look, but I don’t acknowledge it. I’m trying desperately to remember a certain spot I know of around here, and I think I’m vaguely headed in the right direction.

Monty stops trying to object. I think he’s enjoying this really— watching me cut loose a bit. I glance at him and he bites his lip, giving me that look that usually ends with at least one of our trousers around our ankles. I look back out of the windscreen and grin to myself when I see what I was looking for.

I pull up in a parking spot, braking far too aggressively, and we both jolt forward.

Monty takes a long, deep, relieved breath as I put on the handbrake.

“See? No one died.”

“I’m definitely driving us back.”

I shrug, then motion out of the window. “Do you recognise this?”

“It’s a hill, Perce.”

I frown. “It’s Primrose Hill. Remember? We had a picnic here.”

He pauses, then smiles. “This is where you asked me to move in with you.”

“Yep!”

He looks at me. “Baby, you really are a wonder. Combining a bit of grand theft auto with a romantic trip down memory lane.”

I laugh. “The duality of Newton.”

“This is very sweet.” He reaches out and squeezes my knee, giving me a fond look. “Thank you.”

“I just… I don’t like it when people drag up your past. Like it’s all you are. You’re… this. You’re picnics, and house keys, and romance. You’re all of it.”

He swallows, looking surprised. “Baby…”

“Don’t let anyone ever convince you otherwise, okay? Especially not Richard sodding Peele.”

He nods, and his eyes look a little wet, then he reaches for my hand, holding it up to his lips and kissing my fingers. “Okay.”

We share a smile, then Monty turns away. I stare at him. He takes a while to notice, too busy gazing out of the window. When he finally turns back to me, he starts slightly.

“What?”

“Did you and him ever…?”

He frowns. “I thought we’d already established this, darling.”

“No. I know.” I nod towards the backseat. “In here?”

He turns a little red, then looks away again, which is answer enough.

“Great. Nice.”

Monty huffs, looking at me with a sheepish look on his face. “Only a blowjob or two...”

I roll my eyes, tapping my hands on the steering wheel and staring out at the view in front of us for a few seconds. Then I shrug.

“Then we’ll just have to do more than that. Won’t we?”

He pauses, then frowns. “Eh?”

I lean over the centre console and take his face in my hands, kissing him. After a brief pause, he sighs against my lips and kisses me back harder.

“You really—“ he speaks between kisses, breathless. “Want to?” He stops to nip at my jaw. “Right here?”

I groan. “More than anything.”

“Revenge shag?”

“Revenge shag,” I confirm, starting to pull his shirt out of where it’s tucked into his trousers.

“There’s…” He sighs as I start to kiss his neck. “People could see.”

I bite down slightly and he gasps. “The windows are blacked out.”

“There’s not much room.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

He gasps as I find the lever on his chair, pulling it until he’s practically horizontal, and then I clumsily clamber over onto his lap, my legs either side of his.

He laughs in surprise, putting his hands on my thighs. “What the hell has gotten into you tonight?”

“Nothing.” I grin. “Yet.”

After, I lie on Monty’s chest and I can feel the dopey smile on my face. He’s gently twisting one of my curls around his fingers as we catch our breath.

“That was fantastic,” I say with a sigh. It’s stating the obvious. It’s always bloody fantastic.

He kisses the top of my head. “Obviously.”

I look up at him. “Better than Peele?”

“Peele who?”

I laugh. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Never heard of him.”

“Damn right.”

I lean up to kiss him and he gently strokes my cheek, then we both jump when we hear a buzzing sound. Monty grimaces, fumbling around on the seat around us trying to find his phone.

“Who calls people?” He finds it and holds it up. “Ooooofe.”

He grimaces and turns the screen to me. Peele is calling. There’s an eye-roll emoji next to his contact name.

I grimace back at him. “Shit. Why would he be calling you?”

“Perhaps because he pissed us off and then his car disappeared?”

“Should you answer it? Maybe you should answer it.”

He scoffs. “And say what? Oh, your car? Yes, we stole it and just did something filthy on the expensive leather.”

“Well, no. You can lie. I’m pretty sure you’re capable of lying.”

“Ouch! True. But ouch.” He takes a deep breath, then answers. “Richard!”

I hear muffled, angry talking. Monty bites on his lip to stop from laughing, before trying to get a word in between the ranting.

“Richard, I— What do you mean? Which car?” The muffled talking gets louder and Monty grins. “Oh, that car! Well, how did you manage to lose that? Seems pretty irresponsible.”

“Very careless,” I whisper in agreement.

Monty puts a hand over my mouth, still smiling, then suddenly his face falls. “Tracking device?”

My eyes widen. Shit. Shit shit. Of course, there’s a tracking device. This car is top-of-the-range ridiculous.

“Well, that’s good then.” Monty continues, somehow managing to sound calm and collected. “You’ll find it easily. Good luck!” He hangs up. “We need to get out of here. Immediately. He’s waiting for a cab and he knows where the car is”

I scramble off of him as quickly as I can, climbing back into the driver’s seat and looking for my clothes. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Monty does the same, laughing. I shoot him a look.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Panicking. Naked.”

I find this shirt and throw it at his face. “Twat.”

I find my boxers and pull them on, and Monty picks his own up from where they were discarded in the well of the passenger seat. I suddenly have a thought, and reach out to grab his arm before he can pull them on, too.

“Wait.”

I snatch them from him and he gives me an extremely confused look. I lean over into the back seat and place them on the leather, stretching them out so that they’re nice and displayed.

“A departing gift for our gracious host.”

Monty cackles, throwing his head back. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”

I grin at him. “Is it a problem?”

He pulls me in for a wet, sloppy kiss. “Absolutely not. Now come on.” He pushes me away again and starts pulling on his suit trousers. “We have to clear out of here before—”

There’s a sudden, loud sound, like fabric ripping. We both freeze. I look down and see that the button of Monty’s trousers has caught on the corner of the passenger seat. The leather has torn dramatically, showing the foam underneath. Turns out even the most expensive, luxury cars are no match for Monty’s clumsy streak.

I look up at him. “Before what, love?”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Well, this has turned into a very expensive night out.”

“We can afford it.” He opens his eyes, then narrows them at me. “I’m aware that’s not the point.”

“This was your idea, you know. You decided to have a naughty streak, and now we have to buy— No. Actually. You have to buy Richard bloody Peele a new car.”

I scoff. “It’s just a little rip. It’s not like we’ve trashed it.”

And then… I picture it; Richard, hopping in an uber to where his little tracking device is pointing him, furious, that spiteful face all red and flushed. He gets here and Monty and I are long gone, his beloved Lamborghini is… trashed. The windows are smashed. The seats are ripped to shreds. And Monty’s Tom Ford pants are on the backseat.

I smile.

“We should trash it.”

Monty laughs, pulling on his shirt. “I’m cutting you off. No more carnage. We’re going to go home, you’re going to have one of your sad little sleepy teas, then we’re going to bed.”

“Montttyy,” I whine, and he gives me an incredulous look. “It’ll be funnnn!”

“Of course it would be fun! It would also land us in prison.”

“No one would know it was us!”

He points to the underwear on the back seat. “Have you never seen CSI?”

“Since when were you such a spoilsport?”

He stares at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge, then slowly reaches down and tugs at the rip in the seat, making it even wider.

“Oops.”

I grin, turning around in my seat and looking for something to break. I look back forward, spotting the rear view mirror, then I lean up and grab it, yanking at it hard until it snaps off in my hand.

Monty gapes at me.

“Holy shit.”

I grin at him. “Shall we see what else we can break in the next five minutes?”

The answer is quite a lot, apparently. The seats are torn to shreds. The dashboard is cracked. Monty has scraped a key all along the exterior. And I’m currently working on burning holes in the leather seats with the dashboard lighter, still wearing nothing but my underwear.

Suddenly, I hear a very high pitched shriek. I abandon the lighter and scramble out of the car to check on Monty, who was halfway through trying to pull off one of Richard’s wiper blades. He’s now ducked down, hiding behind the bonnet of the car. I quickly join him.

“What?”

“He’s here! I just saw an uber.”

“Shit. How did he get here so quickly? Maybe we were shagging longer than we thought?”

He hisses at me. “Not really relevant right now, Perce. More worried about getting out of here without him seeing us.”

I grimace. “I left my clothes in the car.”

“Then I guess you’re streaking. Come on.”

He quickly glances over the hood of the car, then once he decides the coast is clear, he grabs my hand and pulls me up.

And then we immediately collide with Richard Peele.

He seems to have snuck up from the other direction and well… he doesn’t look terribly happy.

“What—“ He’s so angry, he can barely get his words out. “In the name of fu—“

“Richard!”

God bless Monty for attempting to be charming, even at a time like this.

“Awful news! Someone was trying to damage your car. Me and Percy scared them off.”

“How stupid do you think I am, Montague?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

Richard hisses through his teeth, stepping closer to Monty, and I decide it’s time to intervene, standing in front of him protectively. .

“Don’t even think about it.”

He curls his lip, looking me up and down. “Why are you naked?” He glances back at the car, then at me again, his face turning white. “Did you two...“

I smirk. “Twice.”

(It’s a lie. But he doesn’t need to know that.)

He looks like he wants to throw up. Then he pulls back his fist— but he’s still tipsy, and his reflexes are slow. So, I take a step back to dodge his punch, before reeling my own fist back to throw one of my own.

It connects with his nose. Hard. Kickboxing is one of my favourite workouts and I’m twice as strong as he is. The result being that his nose starts to bleed instantly and he staggers backwards. Monty yelps behind me.

“Shit!”

He tries to pull at my arm but I ignore him.

“Not bad for a fairy, right Peele?”

“Perce!”

“Monty, it’s fine.”

“No! Percy! The car!”

He pulls my arm even harder and I finally turn around. The car. The fucking car is on fire.

“Jesus! What happened?”

“Not sure, but shall we try and figure it out somewhere further away from the flaming car?”

I let him drag me away and we take off at a sprint. Richard isn’t far behind us, trying to keep up.

“The lighter,” I shout to Monty. “I dropped the lighter on the seat!”

The amount of serious crimes I’ve committed today is becoming difficult to keep track of. Car theft. Reckless driving. Public Indecency. Assault. And now apparently a bit of semi-accidental arson. But are they really crimes if the only victim is Richard Peele?

“Save it for court!” Monty replies.

When I think we’re a safe distance away, I stop, pulling Monty to me. We’re both gasping, out of breath. I hear Richard coughing nearby. He must have inhaled some smoke.

I ignore him, pushing Monty’s hair out of his eyes, then cupping his face in my hands.

“Are you okay?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

I grin. “I’m amazing.”

He smiles back, exasperated. “You’re a lunatic is what you are.”

“I love you.”

He shakes his head, then puts his hand behind my neck, pulling me down into a kiss. I lean into it, my hands sliding to his waist and dipping him slightly, making him laugh against my lips.

And then… there’s a loud bang.

I don’t get the chance to glance over at the car before we’re being thrown into the air by the force of the explosion.

* * * *

I wake up with a flinch so huge that the bed shakes. I hear Monty groan next to me.

“Baby, what…?”

Jesus Christ, that was vivid. I can still smell the smoke.

Monty rolls over to face me with a huff. “Perce?”

“Sorry.” I rub my face. “Sorry, I was…”

“Dream?” he asks, mid-yawn.

I pause, then smirk. “Dream.”

He stares at me for a second, then snorts. “Oh god, not the car one again.”

“The car one.” I shuffle over to him, pulling him closer so that our noses are touching. “It was a good one. This time I punched him.”

He gives a sleepy laugh. “This dream almost makes me feel sorry for the man…”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Monty…”

“I mean. Your subconscious is regularly ruining his life! Just because he used to give your boyfriend the occasional hand job after a game…”

“Perhaps the next dream will be the one where I finally murder him.”

He laughs, leaning in to kiss me and placing his hands on my chest. “Your heart is still pounding.”

I blush. “It was fun. There was an explosion.”

He rolls his eyes. “We’re never watching Die Hard before bed again.”

I laugh, rolling on top of him and making him yelp.

[jack-is-lost]

PATCHES & PINS (CH 1)

A/N: This story revolves around a transgender, female to male, original character. LGBTQ+ topics are a given within this story. Gender and body dysphoria will come up as well since he is not out to his family — only close friends. If you dislike such a story premise please understand you do not have to interact with it at all. Leaving hate comments will be removed. Of course, constructive feedback is always welcomed.  

Pairing: Eventually Marko x OTMC

Story is still in progress and updates will be slow

Eventually it will be posted on A03 once I’m a few chapters in

Currently on Chapter one | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 coming soon

Chapter one

My life, for the most part, has always been unusual — a little different. Despite having parents that looked like any successful mom and dad ought to, and an older brother willing to stick up for me, things just didn't go according to plan. 

You see, my mother was excited to have a daughter finally. Someone to doll up and buy dresses for, maybe even enroll in a dance class. A stark difference to her firstborn, Tyler, who was all about karate lessons and throwing the ball with dad. Which eventually evolved to working on cars as he grew older. Our mother wanted somebody to share girly interests with, understandably. And, for a while, she was able to have it. The baby pictures are proof of that. Yet, as I grew older and became more aware of what I liked, the fewer things seemed cookie-cutter-perfect for my family.

"Are you not taking your bag to school, Jacklynn?" The mentioned item was nowhere in sight as the youngest of her children poured coffee — the action resembling someone needing every drop left in the pot as if to survive.

"It's the last day," came the grumbling response after a long, soothing sip. "I doubt most kids will even be showing up."

"Yeah, about that," Tyler, the oldest, spoke around a bite of toast. "Can't I be a minority and just stay home?"

"No, you only have one day left, guys." She smiled at her two kids. A graduate who had already filled out college applications, and is ready to further his engineering career. The other, soon-to-be senior, that seemed to have no real drive in anything but drawing and reading — and staying up too late apparently.

"Seriously," she spoke up again as they sighed in unison, deflating with their last hope crushed. "You two will survive."

Tyler nudged his sister, who leaned across the counter, jostling the coffee dangerously enough to receive a seething glare. "Want me to take you?"

It wasn't like Tyler to offer that too often, "Sure."

They both pulled away from the kitchen and made their way to the door, hollering goodbyes as Tyler grabbed the keys — the other sibling still nursing the coffee.

"Don't stay out too late!" Their mom called back, knowing full well she wouldn't see her kids after school. It seemed the closer summer drew in — the fewer tests to study for and homework to do, the more they came home later.

Tyler stepped into the car, unlocking the passenger door as he slid inside his cherry baby — A beaming red, 1983 Audi Sport Quattro, followed by his sister plopping down less elegantly. He glanced at her while starting the car.

"Talk to me, Jay." It was the last day, after all. Weren't kids supposed to be excited about that? "What's bouncing 'round that head of yours." He barely received any notion his sister was listening till she drew out a long sigh, head hitting the back of the seat.

"I don't know, man." It was drawn out, tired. "Didn't get much sleep, I guess."

Tyler nodded while giving the steering wheel a turn, making his way down the road. The school building wasn't very far when on wheels, and he pulled into a parking lot marginally less filled than it ought to be.

As his sister made to get out, he placed a hand on her shoulder, their eyes meeting as she paused halfway out the door. "Ever need to get a chip off your shoulder come talk to me, okay?" Her eyes rolled to the side, and Tyler gave her a little reassuring squeeze, "I'm serious. What are big —"

"— bro's for? I know, I know."

Tyler chuckled as he released her shoulder, "Good. Now," he slammed the door shut and leaned over the roof, "Go sleep in class or something." That at least drew a chuckle out of his sister as she turned away from the car.

The last day of school went how one could expect it to go. Some teachers put on movies and had extra treats for their students. Others went over lessons in the last semester, hoping it would stick to impressionable minds before three months of freedom — minds that were only thinking about freedom and not math.

It was by mid-day when a note made its way into Jay's locker. In gruff, almost unreadable handwriting, it merely said, 'Meet us by the big tree'. Jay instantly knew who it was from and folded the paper up.

A long night was probably ahead.

When the final bell rang, Jay had to wipe the drool off an impromptu pillow-desk before heading out and down the hall. Many of the kids loudly boasted about their summer plans while cleaning out lockers, jostling each other, and hurrying outside. Jay maneuvered around the hoard and quickly escaped out a side entrance, locker already empty since lunch.

It didn't take long to walk a block to the park, down a jogging trail, before splitting off into a cluster of trees. There, in the center of it, laid a large trunk of a dead tree. Upon it splayed out a makeshift map, bags, and — unsurprisingly, two brothers.

"Finally," Grumbled Edgar while raising his head, a red marker still poised over the map. "Where's Sam?"

Jay stared, unaware that Sam was supposed to tag along for the stroll after school let out. "Was I meant to wait for him or?"

"Forget it," came the short grunt, and Edgar was back to the more important matter at hand as Alan turned around to face Jay.

"I'm sure he'll show up. He's got the same note as you," he started to unravel what appeared to be a chaotic ball of cord in his hands. "Oh, hey—" he stopped as a thought struck him, "—Still a no go on the knife?"

Oh, not this again.

Jay leaned against the bare trunk, arms crossed and brow lifted. "Alan, we've been through this. Keep me on the books, but hand me a knife, and someone will lose a finger."

Of course, no one knew if Jay meant their fingers or not, and that was on purpose.

"Maybe some training will help," Edgar spoke up again, pausing on circling locations. "You need to prepare yourself for—"

"— the unexpected. I get it, Ed." Jay cut him off while peering closer to get a look at the map.

"Edgar," he corrected with a tired mutter despite it being useless. They've known each other for an entire year now. One would think it wouldn't matter at this point.

Jay tapped a finger on the closest circled spot, the cemetery. "Thought you marked this off?"

"One can never be certain," He nodded to his own words of wisdom. "It is a common ground for the dead."

"I'd say," Jay suppressed a snort, "It is where the deceased go to be laid into the ground."

Rustling noises announced Sam’s arrival as he pushed through, almost smacking himself in the face with a thin branch. His strained voice drew attention to him. “Guys,” he dusted a leaf off his overly styled coat, “We really need to find a better spot to meet.”

Jay lazily offered a salute wave, “Hey to you too, Sammy.”

“I’m serious,” Sam huffed while taking up a spot near Alan, hands shoved into his pockets. “What about the shop? Y’know, with school now over and stuff?”

Edgar grunted in thought. “Yeah, that ought to be doable.”

“Your grandpa still against us being at the house?” Alan spoke up.

Sam gave a partial shrug. “Sort of,” he eyed the map, then glanced at Jay, who returned the unspoken question with a tired look. Sam returned to explaining when Edgar motioned for him to continue. “You guys can visit, as you have, but you can’t — you know —” he shuffled his hands for the right phrasing, “— bring hunting business there.”

Jay had never actually been to Sam’s place, but the stories shared made it sound like a lot of stuff went down there — destroying property kind of stuff. So Jay could understand what the man was trying to avoid. The Frog Brothers being walking time bombs of destruction, after all.

“The cemetery again?” Sam squawked at noticing it. “I am not doing that again.” The sound of Jay snickering redirected Sam’s defiant stare. “Make Jay do it this time.”

“Wait, wha—”

“—He doesn’t have the qualification for it, Sam.” Edgar cut in before an argument could occur. This only made Sam huff, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“So? I didn’t either last year.”

Alan stopped weaving the cord at this point, placing it down on the dead trunk. “Jay needs the experience. It could be good for him.” He simply spoke, agreeing with Sam.

“Hey, Jay’s right here,” he had pointedly avoided parading around Santa Carla for a whole damn year. Sure, his knowledge of supernatural things is what drew the Frog Brothers to him in the first place — and the free charge of ordering books at their shop kept Jay in the circle, but he was a good year older than them and didn’t feel like playing make-believe.  

Sam smirked in the way that screamed challenging, “C’mon, Jay, or are you scared of the dark?”

Jay narrowed his eyes, “I know what you are doing.”

“Then prove me wrong,” Sam continued.

“No.”

Despite that, Jay found himself amongst the dead at one in the damn morning. It was eerie, the cemetery, sitting in absolute silence and blanketed by a coat of darkness. The only noise now filtering through was shoes scrapping against the ground and low grumbles around him, voices hushed as not to alert anybody — or anything. Even their flashlights were ordered to stay off unless it called for it, as directed by Edgar.

“Exactly what should we be expecting to find here?” Jay spoke up quietly while trailing behind the two brothers, hands stuffed into his jacket. It was chilly tonight.

“Any signs of the undead.” Edgar simply said without much explanation, to which Alan filled in.

“Disturbed graves, tombs broke, drag marks.” he ticked off like a list.

“Ah,” Jay deadpanned. “So zombies?” the brothers turned to him, the moonlight hitting their frames but leaving their faces shadowed. “What?”

“Could be vampires too.” Edgar simply grunted. “Fresh ones crawling out of their dirt bed.” Alan nodded along with his brother, and Jay sighed.

“Sure, yeah. That too,” It wasn’t like anything of the sort actually existed, but Jay would humor the guys. They put up with his oddities, after all, so he could continue to do the same for them.

“Didn’t any of your books mention that?” Edgar continued while turning around, walking along a worn-out path again, and avoiding stepping on actual graves.

“A little,” Jay admitted as they continued on their trek.

A majority of Jay’s supernatural books were all about how one became something, the signs, and lore behind creatures — not exactly if they crawl out of graves or not. It made sense, though, if considering how people feared vampires in the past. How they would stake and behead someone during burial just in case their loved one decided to raise again.

Same could be said about leaving a bell.

Alan suddenly crouched down near the edge of a grave. “Look,” his flashlight clicked on to bask the empty hole in light. Edgar followed promptly as Jay stared at the two figures eyeing an obvious dug hole for a burial happening soon.

“It might be a sign.” Edgar rubbed a finger over the crumbling edges, dirt smearing and falling back inside the pit.  

“Or,” Jay leaned over them to get an exact look at the perfect outline, “It is the groundskeeper getting ready for a funeral. There’s not even a casket down there.” Jay simply summarized before leaning back.

Alan clicked off the light and stood, “He’s right, Edgar. It is too perfect.”  

“Hey!” the voice resonated out, cutting the muffled talking off as a beam of light frantically flailed in their directions. “What are you kids doing?!”

Without a shared word between the three, just mere glances at one another, they quickly split. Or at least Jay tried to do just that, but the brush of Edgar flying past him in a rush entirely threw him off balance. It wasn’t until tailbone smashed into dirt that Jay even figured out what happened.

“Fuck…” he muttered, then covered his mouth as the light grew brighter over the grave from above, rushing footfalls growing closer before fading away in the direction the brothers ran. Once it was clear, the curse slipped again with more fever.  

Jay eased to his feet and stared above his head, the wall towering almost a foot over him. “They truly mean six-feet-under,” he muttered while raising a hand to the ledge, just able to cup fingers over the lip, only to stumble back as it gave away.

The recent rainfall was not making it easy.

Again Jay tried to grab, shoes scraping along the wall in an attempt to gain some height — thinking if he just rushed up the wall it would give him enough momentum, only to fall back against the adjacent wall.

“Shit — fuck,” Jay didn’t even care if his voice traveled that time. He was stuck in a damn grave, after all! Screw it!

“Need a lift?” came a voice from above, and Jay shot his gaze upward to see a hand reaching down toward him. The moonlight didn’t offer much else to see but light curls and the frame of a coat.

Even if it were the security guard, Jay knew this would be his best bet. It wasn’t like waiting till daylight to be discovered was an option. It would not help much in regards to needing to be home before Jay’s parents could find out he even snuck out.  

He reached for the hand, feeling leather against palm and uncovered fingers wrap around his wrist. It took only one good heave, shoes against the wall and other hand clinging to the edge, to be entirely pulled out. Despite mud caking Jay from front to back, he could even feel it in his shoes; it felt good to be back on the surface. It wasn’t like he had a fear of enclosed places, but it still sucked regardless.

“Thanks,” he looked over at the stranger, still only catching the slightest glimpse of a smirk within the darkness. It was hard to make out any features, and the way the guy stood didn’t help anything.

“Were you takin’ a dirt bath?” he joked inquisitively, and Jay chuckled under his breath.

“No, not exactly.” Who would want to do that in a cemetery anyway?  

The beam of a flashlight washed over them again as rustling sounds drew near, and Jay stepped away from the pre-dug grave. Definitely not wanting to repeat that incident all over.

“Looks like we should start running,” spoke up the other guy, head turned away from Jay to peer toward the security guard.

What was once hidden was now lit up like a spotlight. A smooth curved jawline, willowed eyes bright with brown, and curly dirty blond hair glowed on display for a split moment. Until the flashlight jostled by the running security guard fanned over the area. And Jay would be lying if he said he didn’t stare.

“Avoid any more holes, yeah?” he easily teased before seemingly stepping in a direction with no real speed.

Jay floundered for a moment before taking off after him. “Wait.” Jay didn’t know the grounds that well, and the two idiots that did had left him.

The guy laughed while reaching behind him, grabbing Jay’s wrist again with no problem, then started to run as the worn-out guard hollered something. He seemed to avoid any lifted tombstones, flower arrangements, and small fences like it were daytime. All while Jay tried his best not to stumble, gaze more on the ground than anywhere else.

When they neared the exit gate, chained to prevent people at such odd hours to visit, he let Jay’s arm go and placed both palms out while crouching down. Jay didn’t have to ask and quickly stepped into the waiting hands. He felt the guided push upward as his own hands grabbed for purchase, trying to avoid being nicked by the gothic-style fence. Yet, as Jay’s leg swung over, his pants snagged and ripped — the gravity of his body spilling over the other side holding little resistance.

Surprisingly Jay landed on his feet, if not a little wobbly, and quickly looked through the fence to see the guy still standing there undeterred. “You coming?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he simply said. Jay wanted to comment, but the sight of the guard pushing past the nearest tombstones shut him up. “Go.” he laughed again — actually laughed as if nonplussed by the whole thing. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him distracted.” Then he turned around and fanned his arms out as if directing air traffic before darting down the side of the fence.

And that was the last Jay saw of the guy before quickly hiding behind the bushes lining outside of the cemetery, not wanting to be seen as the flashlight shown in his direction.

The walk home was slow as he picked flakes of mud off his jeans. Jay could feel the dry mess on his face and in his hair. A shower was needed as well as a talk with the Frog Brothers tomorrow. No way were they getting off free from abandoning him in the damn graveyard! Even as he climbed back through the bedroom window, Jay was envisioning how he’d throttle them. It wasn’t until he was in the shower, scrubbing extra hard to clean the grime off, that his thought wavered to the stranger.

“Why was he even there?”

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {5}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: Oh snap.

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

It had been a week since Cassian had managed to get Nesta back to her room unseen. She had woken with a pounding headache with her dusty shoes removed and placed neatly beside her bed. She had still been in her gown, but she was tucked in snugly.

However, she did notice that she had been missing her bracelet and assumed she had lost it somewhere in her drunken endeavors. She tried not to feel too disappointed, considering who had gifted it to her, but it was her own fault.

Nonetheless, the stableboy had taken care of her, even though Nesta only remembered glimpses of their night out at the tavern. 

Yet, she had purposely been avoiding him at all costs. Not that she went to the stables often.

When carriages were drawn, she waited indoors until it was pulled up front, ready to be loaded. She did not take Marigold for any rides, unless she was one hundred percent certain Edward was in the stables, not Cassian. 

Perhaps it was petty, but she could not face him, not after what she had remembered.

She knew she had drunk far too much, had confessed far too much. She was even certain that, at one point, she had called him handsome. 

She had called the stableboy handsome. 

And he had taken care of her. 

Nesta pushed the thoughts from her mind as she chose an unread book from the master library and trailed through the house.

“Miss Nesta! I have been looking everywhere for you.”

She froze, looking over her shoulder to find Alis trailing after her down the long hallway. “Yes?”

“You have received a letter, my Lady. Also, your father will be leaving this evening, after supper, for his journey north. He wishes you all to have a lovely dinner together in the main dining hall, promptly at six.”

“Thank you,” Nesta said, taking the letter from their maid. 

Alis curtsied. “Good day, Miss.”

“Good day, Alis.”

The moment Alis had disappeared around the corner, Nesta broke the seal and unfolded the letter. It was in that old familiar handwriting, the same handwriting she had seen all too often.

My dearest Nesta,

I hope you do not think too poorly of me. You will always have a piece of my heart, more so than my betrothed could ever have. Could we meet soon? I surely hope so.

T

Nesta was fuming.

He still wanted to meet? After he had led her to believe he would propose, then introduced her to his new fiance? Ha! Absolutely not. Tomas was an even greater fool than she thought to have written her such a thing. 

“You look angrier than usual.”

Nesta’s head jerked up to find her youngest sister leaning against the railing at the end of the hall, overlooking the main entrance. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Of course not,” Feyre said, simply. “You were too busy reading whatever that is in your hand.”

Nesta quickly crumpled up the paper in her hand. “It’s garbage.” 

“Hmmm,” Feyre said, then brushed it aside. “Excited for our big dinner with papa before he heads up north?”

Isaiah Archeron’s trip to the northern territory was his longest business trip of the year. This year, it was crucial, as they were running low on funds. He typically stayed just under a month, leaving the girls alone with Alis. 

Now that they were old enough to raise themselves.

Or something like that.

“I suppose,” Nesta said, Feyre making her way toward her. “I am certain we will be eating a pork roast since it’s papa’s favorite.”

Nesta was not a fan of pork roast.

The two went into the library and sat next to the windows where they could see Elain hovering over her garden. 

“Has she been acting strange lately to you?” Feyre asked.

Nesta took a moment to sort her words. Yes, she had, but Nesta wasn’t going to mention it. “I am not certain she is fond of Lord Lucien.”

“I don’t know why,” Feyre began. “He is handsome and kind. Out of all of us, Elain had always been the most excited to marry. At least, that is how it seemed. And, I thought father had chosen the perfect match for her with Lucien.”

Nesta agreed. “She hasn’t said a word about him. I would have thought she would be bouncing off the walls, already making wedding preparations.”

Feyre chuckled, looking out the window at her sister. “Perhaps she’s just nervous. Once Lucien asks for her hand, her entire life will change.”

Nesta mumbled her agreement, but couldn’t take her eyes away from where Elain sat on her knees, plating her newest seeds to some plant Nesta had never heard of. 

She wore a dress, although it was hiked up to her knees. It was the only time she was unladylike - when Elain was in her garden. Yet, she still made it all look graceful. 

“All I know is out of the three of us, Elain deserves to be happy.”

Nesta looked at her youngest sister and met her eyes, their mother’s eyes, the eyes identical to her own.

And she couldn’t agree more.

~~~~~

Elain loved her garden.

It wasn’t the sunniest of days, but Elain still thought it a great day to plant her chocolate cosmos. She had been waiting for her seeds to be delivered, and once Alis had announced that they’d arrived, she couldn’t wait any longer.

Besides, she loved the peace and quiet being outside in her garden brought. It was just her, and sometimes Alis. Her sisters didn’t find the same appreciation in gardening that she did, which was fine. It was Elain’s thing.

She stood, once her planning was done, and dusted off her hands. She admired the plants that were already sprouting stems above the top layer of dirt and took a deep breath. A few flowers had even begun to bloom, and she found herself awfully proud. 

Her garden allowed her to display her talents. She brought life from seeds, created something from nothing.

Once her hands were clean enough, she pulled the note she kept tucked into her dress pocket. After unfolding it, she looked at the simple signature and couldn’t stop her grin.

El,

I watched you in your garden today. You look cute with dirt smudged against your cheek. In my dreams, we live in the countryside and you have your dream garden. You grow flowers, and vegetables, and I always tell you how amazing you are at it.

Which you are. Incredible.

But you are incredible at everything. Surely you know that.

I miss you.

I love you.

I can’t wait to sneak a kiss goodnight.

A

The note had been pushed beneath her bedroom door in the middle of the night. She awoke at dawn to find it sitting against the wooden floorboards, and found her soul lightening at its words. As expected, they had not seen much of each other since their night together. Their wonderful, amazing night together. Elain had fallen asleep thinking about it every night since. His hands against her skin, the way his breath felt against her neck as he pushed himself inside of her. Every now and then, she caught his eye and blushed, wildly, only earning a small grin in return. 

They had to be careful.

But it was so damn hard. 

She loved him.

And he loved her.

So why couldn’t they be together?

Then there was Lord Lucien.

He had written to her twice within the last week and she had felt obligated to send a reply, although her heart was not in it. She felt guilty, horribly guilty. He was so kind, so deserving of a woman who found him charming and worthy.

It wasn’t that Elain did not find him charming nor worthy, it was just that someone else had already captured her heart. Then again, she knew that she could not marry Azriel. She knew that she was meant to marry Lucien, was supposed to marry Lucien, would be a great match for Lucien. And, more so, Lucien would be a great match for anyone. He was kind, gentle, handsome, wealthy. 

He was everything she was supposed to want.

Everything she was told that she should have wanted.

But everything she wanted was in a man that she would never be able to have.

And at that thought, she slowly folded up the note and put it back in her dress pocket. 

~~~~~

Nesta was right.

Supper’s main course had been pork roast.

The four of them ate in silence, unsure of how to fill it. It was always that way when they chose to eat as a family, which was few and far between since their mother had passed. Yet, Isaac thought it necessary, especially before he left for a period of time.

Three butlers stood against the walls, silent after serving their course, waiting in case one of them needed anything. Two of them, Feyre recognized. The young, dark haired one. Azriel, she believed, was his name. And Anthony, who had been around since Feyre was a little girl.

Then there was a third, who Feyre thought she had seen in the stables. After stirring her mashed potatoes and gravy for the tenth time, she looked to the young man and asked, “Aren’t you the stableboy?”

“Feyre,” Isaac chastised.

The man simply smiled politely and nodded his head. “Yes, Lady Feyre. Oliver was feeling unwell this afternoon, so I offered to take his spot during mealtime, just until he was feeling better.”

“That was kind of you,” Elain smiled.

Feyre and Isaac agreed, although Nesta said nothing, staring at her pork roast.

“Have you heard more from Lord Rhysand?”

It took Feyre a moment to realize that Elain had been speaking to her. She cleared her throat, “Yes. He wrote just yesterday, in fact.”

“Ah,” Isaac smiled, setting down his fork. “And what did he write?”

“That he hopes to visit soon,” Feyre said, “in which I replied that he shouldn’t.”

Isaac stared as Nesta snorted. “Feyre, that is rude. You should write him again, inviting him to call.”

“Why?” Feyre asked, completely forgetting about her food. “He is selfish and wants me as a wife because I am beautiful.”

“Conceited, much?” Nesta mumbled.

Feyre ignored her, continuing to stare at her father. “He has not even asked you for my hand so I owe him nothing.”

“He is a Lord,” Isaac shot back.

“He is insufferable,” Feyre snapped, taking a large bite of potatoes. “And he can kiss my-”

“Feyre,” Isaac scolded. 

“Hand,” Feyre finished, staring at her father. “He can kiss my...hand.”

Nesta snorted, but remained quiet. 

“Well, I talked to Lord Rhysand and thought he was quite lovely,” Elain chimed.

“And what of Lord Lucien?” Feyre beamed. “Have you heard from him?”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she hesitated. “Yes. He has written twice since the ball.”

“And?” Nesta asked, as Feyre stuffed her mouth with more mashed potatoes.

“And,” Elain began, glancing toward the butler against the wall before continuing, “he is excited to visit us here again soon.”

“Any mention of a proposal?” Feyre asked, mouth full.

“Feyre, do not talk with food in your mouth,” Isaac scolded. “You know better.”

Elain cleared her throat. “No. Not yet.”

“Shocking,” Nesta said, picking at her food without really eating it. “I would have thought he’d be outside on one knee waiting for you to accept after he charmed you at the ball.”

Elain’s cheeks reddened further, but she said nothing. 

Isaac cleared his throat, having already cleared his plate. “As you girls know, I will be leaving tonight. I should not be gone any longer than four weeks. Although, if I am, it means that business is booming and I cannot leave. In that case, I will write. Edward will be joining me.”

Nesta’s eyes shot to the stableboy, then back to Isaiah. “Well, we wish you luck and look forward to your return, papa.”

Feyre and Elain chimed in their agreements before resuming their meal.

“At what time do you leave?” Nesta asked.

“When we are finished here,” Isaac proclaimed. “Alis will watch over you, of course. However, you are all women now and can look after yourselves, no doubt. I expect you to write often, especially if anything goes amiss.”

Feyre grinned, finishing off her plate. “I assure you, we will be fine.” 

Indeed, they were used to being stuck at the manor. They had not left much during the last few years, since their mother’s passing. 

Isaac smiled and took a look at his three daughters. “I know. I have raised you well.”

Feyre smiled, although she had to admit that her heart wasn’t in it. Everything had been off since their mother died. As she looked at her sisters, she could feel it. They were both hiding something, although she had no idea what. Nor did she care to find out, since she was hiding a secret of her own. She couldn’t wait until her father left so that she could go into town and play cards with the locals. 

Once they were done, they all rose from the table and saw Isaac outside, where Edward was waiting with a packed carriage.

Isaac kissed each of his daughters goodbye before he closed himself inside and was off, nothing more than a shadow being erased by the growing distance. 

~~~~~

“You have a girl, don’t you?”

Azriel froze where he sat atop his bed. “What?”

Cassian nodded to the pen and paper in his lap. “You’re writing to someone often. I assume it’s a woman.”

“Ah,” Azriel chuckled, glancing down at the ‘E’ written on his otherwise blank sheet of paper. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“A fling?” Cassian asked, kicking off his muddy boots and plopping down on his cot. “Or someone you intend to marry?”

Azriel took a moment to think about it before responding to his roommate. “She is the love of my life.”

“Congrats, mate,” Cassian said, wholeheartedly. He had grown to like Azriel within the recent weeks, since they had become roommates in the servant wing. Azriel was quiet, but he was kind and held no judgement. Cassian tried his best to be the same toward him. 

“What about you?” Azriel asked. “Is there a girl for you?”

Cassian chuckled and shook his head. “No. Just my mother and sister back home. I write to them often, although i haven’t heard from them yet this week.”

“Oh?” Asked Azriel. “How old is your sister? Where do they live?”

“An hour’s ride south,” Cassian began. “I grew up in a small village there. My sister just turned seventeen. She has her eye on one of the local farmer’s sons. Although, if you ask me, he’s not worthy of her one bit.”

Azriel chuckled. “No? Why not?”

“I knew the guy, growing up,” Cassian explained. “I know too much about him, if you know what I mean. He’s been with too many women. Loves himself too much.”

“And your sister?”

“Kind,” Cassian explained. “But can take care of herself. Stubborn, just like my mother. Has very strong opinions, which many think women shouldn’t have, but I beg to differ. I grew up in a home full of strong-willed women, and wouldn’t have had it any other way.” 

“What about your dad?” Azriel asked, writing on his sheet of paper as he spoke. 

Cassian took a moment to answer, realizing he and his roommate had never had a truly deep conversation before. “He left when my sister was young. He was a prick, horrible to my mother. I was eight when he left, but I was glad.”

Azriel nodded, but didn’t reply.

Cassian watched as Azriel wrote his letter to his lover. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Azriel laughed, short and quiet.

“Your family?”

Azriel took such a long time to reply that Cassian almost thought he hadn’t heard.

“I was abandoned as a child, adopted by an older couple. Diana and Renald. Diana was kind, but she was terrified of Renald. As was I.” Azriel talked slow, as if finding it difficult to remember. “He was an ass. He instantly knew I was different, knew of where I had…” Azriel paused, as if having trouble finding the words. “Come from. He treated me the worst. Partly because of my background, I assumed, and partly because I was the only other male. He...abused me. Often. And I ran away the moment I could, promising Diana that I would earn enough to get her free of Renald someday. That I am still working on. But I shall get there, soon. Diana writes to me often.”

Cassian cursed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Azriel shrugged, not taking his eyes off the letter he was writing. “That’s life.”

Cassian supposed so. Although if that was life, he was certain that life was not fair. He thought to Lady Nesta, when he had escorted her the week before. She had given herself to a man who thought nothing of her, then left her completely alone in their holier than thou circle. Cassian firmly believed that life was not fair, and only they had the power to change such a thing.

“Do you enjoy working here?” Cassian asked.

Azriel took a moment to think. “I would not trade this experience for the world.”

Cassian nodded, remembering his night a week before with the Lady Nesta.

“The Archeron sisters are an interesting trio, aren’t they?”

Cassian swore Azriel tensed, but then his roommate nodded.

“Yes,” Azriel said, quietly, folding his sheet of paper into a neat square. “They are.”

~~~~~

Feyre tugged on her trousers and waistcoat before tucking her long hair into a newsboy hat. The boots in the bottom of the chest at the foot of her bed slipped on easily.

After one last look in the mirror, Feyre stuck her head out of her door to make sure the halls were clear. Once she decided it was safe, she hurried down the hall and down the main stairway. Once she had reached the floor, she tiptoed into the sitting room, toward a side window, where she could slip out and easily reach the ground, knowing to keep it cracked so that she could get back in later.

But she didn’t open it. Just as she was about to, she froze.

Just outside was Elain, hurrying away with a tall, dark haired man, hand in hand.

She was smiling. 

It wasn’t until the man turned to look down at Elain that Feyre recognized him.

Before Feyre could fully process what she was seeing, she was running back up the staircase, straight to her eldest sister’s room.

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red @littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books​ @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth​ @queenofillea1​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @levivlio​ @hellolenas​ @burritowithfeels​ @that-other-pineapple​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @raghad-50725 @musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld​ @negativenesta​

[sherlollydramoine]

Detroit

Prompt 15: “not interested, thank you”

Fandom: Rami Malek/Need for Speed Movie

Pairing: Finn X Reader

Word Count: 2052

Warnings: Language, Alcohol consumption, Predatory Male Character (don’t worry–he gets his), Fist fight.

Here’s the follow up that was much requested to Broken Promises (HERE). Didn’t have time to edit this so please don’t mind my mistakes.

It had been just over a year since you’d walked out of his life away from everything that you’d ever know to start fresh. A good friend of yours from college worked for some big time corporation in Detroit whom upon hearing about what had happened and your need to start fresh had recommended you for a position. Everything was a blur after the interview having been basically hired on the spot and you needed to move quickly. The company itself owned several apartment buildings and was able to provide you housing for six months until you’d been able to secure one on your own. They’d been generous in allowing you three weeks to start, which enabled you to gather the remnants of your life with Finn, and put them on a truck.

You’d been unable to face him without feeling some kind of guilt. You did just walk out offering no explanation, after angrily expressing your frustration with his broken promises. Once you’d left there was no going back for you, you’d purposely fallen out of touch with everyone to avoid any updates on Finn. 

“Hey, YN, boss needs you to run some files down to the second office,” your co-worker and roommate Alicia informed you as she perches herself on the corner of your desk crossing her legs over each other, her heel clacking against the faux wooden front of your desk. You kept clacking away at the business email you’d needed to finish typing, hitting spell check, then sending it off to digital transmission land.

Looking up at her nodding your head, you hated this corporate job with every fiber of your being, but it more than adequately paid your bills. Alicia was the only friend you’d made since your move to Detroit. The two of you bonded quickly over the fact that in the main office of this company, you were only two of three women.

 “Yeah, sure I’ll run em down anyway since I’m out to lunch in about ten minutes anyway. Anybody need anything from the other office while I’m there?” you ask, you hated going down there. The fellas who were employed in the secondary office were far less refined than those on the top floor and were prone to make rude or outright lewd comments. The only man in the other office that never was rude or lewd was the actual office manager Doug, a kind man in his late forties that had a wife and four children.

“I don’t think so. At least no one has said anything to me about it. There is something you could do for me though?”

“Yeah sure Leesh what is it?”

“Could you give me the scoop on one of the newer guys down there? I heard some rumblings that he was gorgeous. Can’t remember his name though, Jen said he was kind of flirty in a goofy way and he talked about cars a lot.”

With a small laugh and a roll of your eyes, you agree to give her the scoop on the new hire, though a small part of you felt sad. That description could fit any number of men but it also aptly described your ex and it made your heartache a little bit. She wasn’t sure what cubicle he was located in but you figured it probably wouldn’t be overly tough to spot them. New hires were easy to spot: Ill-fitting suits, slightly tense, and they never seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be doing.

Alicia gives you a big smile and then ambles away back towards her desk buzzing her boss to make sure that he had the files ready to go for her. You watch as she disappears into her boss’s office for a couple of minutes reappearing with a stack of manila files in her hand.

“Here ya go, darling. The top six files need to go to HR and then the rest go to Doug. I’ll see you after lunch.”

Pushing back from your desk and standing up, taking a moment to stretch as it had been way too long since you’d seated hunched over a computer answering emails for the last several hours. Taking the files from your friend you trek towards the elevator bank humming a song that had been stuck in your head. Dropping off the necessary files to HR and then getting back on the lift to drop off the last stack downstairs before your lunch break.

“Hey Doug,” you said with a friendly smile. “These are all yours,” you say as you set the large stack of manila folders stuffed to the gills with who knows what paperwork in his ‘INCOMING’ tray.

“Thanks YN, how’s it going upstairs?”

“Oh you know, the same ole same ole. I just do as I’m told,” you laugh out. You start walking back towards the door, “Anyway, I gotta go but let me know if there is anything that you need from upstairs.”

As you walk out of Doug’s office you catch a glimpse of a man with very familiar curly hair and your heart drops. You couldn’t help but stare thinking maybe you’ve hallucinated or if this was really happening. The man must have felt your eyes on him because when he looked up both of you gasped in shock.

You didn’t wait around for him to react instead sprinting down the corridor to the elevator. Trying to calm your breathing as you rode the elevator down to the main level of the building, walking across the marbled floors, and out the door as fast as you could.

What the fuck is he doing here? You thought. How fucking dare he come all the way to Detroit. He has no business being here.

After your second cup of coffee, you came to the realization that It didn’t matter as you likely weren’t going to see each other very often, you could do this. You were an adult after all. Instead of grabbing lunch, you grab another coffee and then head back upstairs to your office deciding to cut your lunch break short.

The rest of your day was spent working furiously not even realizing when it was quitting time until Alicia tapped on your desk with her perfectly manicured nails. 

“Bitch, we’re going out!”

“Do I have to Leesh?”

“Yes, yes, you do. You never did give me the deets on the new guy. Is he as handsome and flirty as Jen said he was?”

“Yeah. He is, he’s also my fucking ex,” you respond dryly, watching her face morph from curious to curiouser. 

Grabbing your bag and following her to the elevator making the quick decision that you’d go out. If there was ever a time when you needed a strong drink and some possible casual sex, it was tonight.

 Alicia ends up taking you to one of your usual spots. As was common for the place it was crowded and loud full of other ‘suits’ wanting a little bit of fun on a Friday night. After scoring you both a prime spot to hang, she flings her bag onto the seat next to you and flounces off. Her red curly hair bouncing as she dances along to the beat of some heavily auto-tuned pop song that was blaring through the speakers. 

Sitting back in your chair watching the random groups of people taking shots, sipping beers, out for nothing but another convivial Friday night.

In your observations, you failed to notice when Finn walked in with a group of co-workers still in his suit and tie. He fidgets nervously with his tie, loosening it while talking to one of your other co-workers.

Just then Alicia re-appeared with a small tray of assorted shots carefully setting it down to avoid sloshing the amber colored liquid over the shot glasses. 

“Uh-oh babe, looks like you’re in for a heck of a time tonight,” she warns, tilting her head in the direction of Finn.

You look up in time to see Finn walk past your table, your eyes briefly catching before you lower yours, grab a drink off the tray, and slam it back. 

“Fuck this night!” you yell out, grabbing another drink and repeating. Twenty minutes and five shots later you were definitely feeling good. 

Grinding against Alicia on the dance floor giggling with each other forgetting all about the issue of your ex being in the same space as you. 

Leaving the dance floor behind under the guise of thirst, Alicia goes back to the table while you grab another round of drinks. While waiting an attractive man you’ve never seen before turns to you to strike up conversation apparently, not really wanting to deal with any of that you turn your body away. Dealing with men right now was not necessarily high on your list of priorities since you were already a few shots deep.

“Hey gorgeous, let me buy you a drink?” the stranger asks. 

“Not interested, thank you,” was the only thing you could think of to say. Inwardly cringing at how rude that sounded but at the moment you couldn’t be fucked to care.

“C’mon, what could it hurt? It’s just one drink,” he responds with a tone that made you suddenly angry.

“Yeah? One drink? And then what, mister? Then another one, and another until you’ve got me so drunk that you can take me home and use me in whatever way you see fit because somehow I owe you something. No, no, no. I don’t want your fucking drink!” you were yelling now stamping your feet looking very much like a toddler throwing a tantrum in the middle of a crowded club, and the handsome stranger had the nerve to look pissed off.

“Now gorgeous that-”

“She said no man, why don’t you leave her alone,”a familiar voice sounded from behind you. 

“Oh and what are you gonna do about it pipsqueak?,”the man challenged.

Rolling your eyes at the sudden testosterone fueled fight that you can feel is about to happen.

“Nothing, I’m just letting you know that my girlfriend isn’t interested in your drinks. She’s an independent woman capable of buying her own.”

The bartender returns with your drinks, eyeing both Finn and the stranger, the aggression radiating off of the both of them. It had been a year but you could clearly see Finn with his chin up in definance, shoulders squared, strong arms tense, and fists balled. A stare down between the two until the man in the suit swung at Finn, hitting him square in the side of the head. 

Finn might be to most men considered small but he was tough, having worked as a mechanic for most of his life. He had way more muscle packed under his suit than it looked like he did. 

Finn stumbled backward, hand coming up to the side of his face where the asshole had struck him. Abandoning your drinks in favor of subduing Finn, you launch yourself at him and doing the only thing in the moment that you could think of to do, you press your mouth to his. It only took his brain approximately three seconds for him to go from aggressive to horny.

His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, you moan into his mouth giving into the warmth of him. The alcohol you’d consumed making your brain foggy, slowly processing what is happening. You break the kiss without warning hoping that whatever the hell that was, the spark that you had felt would fizzle out. 

Forgetting completely about the drinks you make your way back to your table grabbing your bag ignoring the look on Alicia’s face as you then make your way out of the club in a stunned confusion.

“YN?” you heard Finn call out.

You whirl around, nearly stumbling in your half drunken state, “What Finn?”

“Do you-need some help?” he asks, unsure of how he should proceed.

“You know what, why the fuck not.”

You barely remember walking home with Finn in tow but when you woke up in the morning with Finn still in your bed a slow smile spread across your face. There would be worse ways to wake up on a Saturday morning.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Twelve Days of Holly Jolly Tidings - Day 6

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series.  I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series.  There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some.  

Wednesday, December 18

Gathering her stuff, she trudged over to the elevator, happy to finally be leaving her work behind. It had been a shit day and it didn’t help that one of her articles was sent back to her desk with red ink all over it.   

Walking out of the elevator, she smiled seeing a man standing there waiting for her. “Thank God you’re still here. I thought you might have snuck out.” 

“Nope . . . just got my ass chewed out and an article was just redlined back to me.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Not that I don’t love seeing you, but what are you doing here, Spot?” 

He held up the familiar green notebook, grinning. “I’ve been recruited to deliver this to you. But there’s something you need to do first before you can get this.” 

“And what’s that?” Her eyebrow rose in curiosity, Spot holding the notebook just out of her reach. 

He smiled, tucking the notebook in his back pocket. “Have dinner with me?” 

“So I’m guessing today’s adventure isn’t on some sort of time table?” She guessed, looking over at him. 

Shaking his head, he started walking, not waiting for her to catch up. “No, there’s not. Something has to be done tonight but not a strict schedule. Now can we go get dinner?” 

She looped her arm through his as they made their way down the street. “And what’s for dinner, oh grumpy one?” 

“Just for that, you can pick up the bill.” He stuck his tongue out at her as she scoffed. “Kidding but I’m thinking Chinese.” 

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way, dear sir.” She grinned, trying to avoid the hip check that was coming her way; she was unsuccessful. 

Holding open the door, he motioned for her to go in first as he followed behind her. The door shut with a gentle bang as the hostess led them over to a table. Taking off her coat, she threw it in the booth before sliding in it as Spot did the same on the other side of the table. 

“Have you been here before?” She asked, giving him a look as she opened her menu. She immediately knew what she wanted, closing the menu with a snap. 

Spot looked up briefly before returning to his menu. “Once, Race took me here for a date a couple of years ago. I remember this place having really good food.” 

Nodding, she tapped her nails on the table watching him trying to figure out what he was going to order. “You figured out what you want to eat already?” 

“I tend to get the same thing when I go out for Chinese so it’s not rocket science.” She shrugged as the waitress reappeared with two glasses of water and a pot of tea. 

Quickly ordering, they were left in silence as Kat looked at him. “What’s been up with you? Seems like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” 

“You saw me last week for our annual lunch date. Hospital has been busy so I’ve been pulling more shifts.” Spot grinned, shaking his head at her. “What’s up with you?” 

Kat motioned to him. “You know what Jack’s been doing?” 

“He mentioned it last time Race and I saw him.” Spot shrugged. “I think it’s sweet that he’s planned this out just for you. He just wants to see you smile, Kat.” 

She nodded. “And it’s been fun to follow his adventures and I’ve had a great time with them.” 

“So what’s the problem?” Spot asked, as their order of Crab Rangoon were delivered to the table along with a couple of plates. 

Picking up a Crab Rangoon, she put it on her plate, pulling it apart and popping a piece in her mouth. “It feels like something is missing or I’m not picking up on something.” 

“So you’re putting an expectation on this?” Spot picked up exactly what she was doing. When the two had met, they had instantly connected and had become fast friends. Spot was her best friend, outside of her group she still hung around from college. 

Kat sighed, giving him a look. “I am trying not to but my brain keeps doing it.” 

“You need to tell your brain to knock it off. There shouldn’t be any expectations along with this.” Spot reached over, grabbing her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Jack is doing this to bring a little more holiday cheer to your life. He wants you to be happy and he designed this for that sole purpose. You need to get out of your head this time and just go with the flow. Maybe that’s what Jack is trying to teach you with these adventures - letting go and letting loose.” 

“Letting go and letting loose?” Kat raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you met me?” 

He chuckled. “Yes, I’ve met you. You’re one of my best friends. Don’t put yourself down but I’m challenging you to let go and let loose.” 

“Ugh . . . alright.” She sighed, nodding her head as their food arrived. 

Spot raised an eyebrow, looking up at her before he dug into his meal. “If you’re going to be like that, then I triple dog dare you to let go and let loose tonight.” 

“How old are you?” Kat asked. She should be shocked by his response but they had known each other long enough that it didn’t even phase her. 

“I’m the same age as you.” He stuck his tongue out at her as he laughed.  “Are you going to shy away from a triple dog dare?” 

Biting her lip, she pushed her food around on her plate. “No, I’m not going to shy away from a triple dog dare!” 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” He teased, putting his hand near his ear. “Can you repeat that?” 

“I’m not going to shy away from a triple dog dare, old man!” She raised her voice a bit as he laughed, nodding his head. “Make sure those hearing aids are turned up.” 

Looking around them, he quickly flashes her his middle finger as she laughed.  “Love you too Conlon.” 

“It’s Higgins-Conlon, Plums and it’s been that way for the last two years.” He gave her a quick smile, shoveling another forkful in his mouth.

Pushing her plate away, she gave him a tentative smile. “I’m sorry, my apologies Mr. Higgins-Conlon.” 

“Thanks, love.” Sending her an air kiss, he grinned. 

He signaled for the bill, quickly paying it before he leaned back in his seat. “So where is he sending you tonight?” 

“Not sure.” She laughed. “I actually have to read the notebook.” 

Grabbing the notebook from his coat, he tossed it across the table to her. He signed the receipt, watching her crack open the book. 

Hello love, 

I hope you had a wonderful sixth day of Christmas and I hope you had a wonderful dinner with Spot. 

“You told him you were taking me out for dinner?” Cocking an eyebrow she gave him a look. 

Shrugging, he put his credit card back in his wallet. “It may have come up.” 

You’re going on a night adventure tonight. I’m changing it up for today’s adventure. Spot’s going to give you something before you leave him and that’ll give you the ticket to where you need to go.  You’ll need to get on your beloved D-train and take it out to 79th Street and Utrecht. 

You told me that one of your favorite childhood memories was going to look at Christmas lights with your parents and siblings when you were younger. I’ll let you in on a little secret, that was one of my favorite childhood memories as well. It was so cool to see how people would decorate their houses with simple strings of lights and a few blown up characters. 

So tonight I’m sending you to the ULTIMATE Christmas tree lights display in the city.  Once you get there, continue reading the notebook. 

Closing the book, she looked at Spot. “You’re supposed to give me something.” 

“I did . . . I gave you the notebook.” Spot gave her a look, tilting his head. 

Pointing to the notebook, Kat gave him a look. “Jack mentioned that you were going to be giving me something else.” 

“Oh, you’re looking for this.” Grabbing something from his back pocket, he handed it over to her. Accepting it, she saw it was a ticket. Flipping it over, she saw that it was a ticket to the Dyker Heights Christmas tour. 

“He’s sending me to Dyker Heights.” She said, as Spot snorted. 

“Have fun with that one.” Spot chuckled, shaking his head. 

Giving him a look, Kat tilted her head, not understanding why he was laughing.  “Why do you say that?” 

“Have you ever been to Dyker Heights during Christmas?” He raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what she was getting herself into. 

Shaking her head, she slid the ticket in the notebook, before slipping that into her bag, giving Spot a look. “Do I dare ask what I’m getting into?” 

“Nope, you’re not getting that out of me. Just let loose and go with the flow tonight, okay?” Spot gave her a look. “Now go have fun and I cannot wait to hear all about it.” 

Putting her coat on and grabbing her bag, she leaned over and kissed Spot’s cheek before making her way out the door. Walking to the nearest Subway station, she paid before waiting for the train to arrive.  She looked around at the few people who were on the platform, bouncing on her toes to try to stay warm. Finally, the train arrived, as she boarded and found a spot. 

The train ride was quicker than she thought. Before long, she was walking off the train and through the station. She walked a couple of blocks and her eyes went wide at the brightness of the street. Everywhere she looked were covered in multicolored lights. Every street lamp, every fence, and every square inch of the houses were decorated. 

Hopping up on a brick wall fence, she dug the notebook out of her bag, opening it up. 

So you’ve made your way to the Dyker Heights Christmas Extravaganza.  This is the jolliest street within Brooklyn. Apparently people flock from all over the city every year to take in the brightness and cheer. 

So, my challenge to you, lose yourself in the wonder and the awe of the street. Listen to the history on the tour and join in the singing. Just enjoy yourself and have fun. 

Wish I could see your face right now - I’m sure your face is a mixture of fear and pure happiness. Look for Max, he’ll have a surprise for you. 

Closing the book, she looked around her.  Jack was really throwing her for a loop. The past 6 days, he had hidden the surprise in some random places but Max was a new one. 

“Are you Katherine?” Looking up from the notebook, she gave him a look. 

Jumping off the wall, she slowly nodded. “I am. And you are?” 

“The tour guide, Mitch.” He introduced himself. “And we’re about to start the tour.” 

She nodded, making her way over to the group.  Mitch started by greeting everyone before starting the tour.  “The Dyker Heights Lights displays started in the 1980s and it’s been a yearly tradition for many families since. Lucy Spata started the Christmas Lights tradition when she moved to the neighborhood in the 1980s. She decorates her house to carry on the tradition her mother had started.” 

She made her way with the group as they stopped at each of the houses along the street. Mitch would give them a brief history of the house and the family. He described that there usually was a theme that the neighborhood would decide on, leaving it up to each family to decorate their houses how they saw fit. 

Her eyes went wide taking in the Polizzotto’s house - it had a 15-foot-tall Santa Claus, and even taller nutcrackers. 

They continued down the street and stopped in front of another house. A giant Grinch was in the yard along with his dog, Max. Kat’s eyes went wide thinking back to the notebook and Jack’s note - Max. 

Her eyes swept the house, trying to figure out where Jack would hide the box. Nothing jumped out at her at first until her eyes landed on a divet in the brick wall. Leaning over, she grinned seeing a purple wrapped box, where a brick should’ve been. Pulling the box loose, she backed away from the group, letting them walk ahead without her.  Pulling the wrapping paper loose, she tucked it away in her bag before cracking open the box. Inside, laid a red Christmas bulb charm. Grinning, she closed the box back up and tucked it away. 

Grinning, she looked up and down the street and felt absolutely happiness. She grinned, letting herself go, just like she promised Spot, and twirled around as snow started to lightly fall. Throwing her head back, she caught a few snowflakes in her mouth, giggling the entire time.

So that’s day 6. What did you think? Feedback would be amazing and wonderful! 

[tk-writer]

Hair.  [YTTD - Joesara]

When classes let out for the day, Sara found it strange that Joe wasn’t waiting for her at the front gates of the school. He didn’t mention having o-soji duties, and none of the clubs he was a part of had meetings that afternoon. The two of them always walked to and from school together - it was their little unspoken agreement, and had been since kindergarten. Things changed when they were older and got more involved with after school activities, but they kept this silent promise on the days they were free. It was really out of character for him to rush home without telling her.

She decided to swing by his place on her way home to make sure he was okay. He could have just forgotten, but just in case...

She approached the familiar front door, one she had known since her toddler days, and was greeted warmly by Joe’s mom soon after she knocked.

“He’s upstairs in his room,” she said in lieu of a proper greeting.

“Is he okay?” Sara asked while slipping off her shoes. “It’s not like him to rush home without telling me…”

His mom pressed her lips together in concern and seemed unwilling to say. Something was definitely not right.

“Why don’t you go talk to him? He’ll certainly appreciate you stopping by. I think he needs a friend.”

Her avoidance worried Sara. Did something happen to Joe?

She didn’t have much time to linger on it. She bounced her way upstairs to his room and firmly knocked on the door.

“You in there, Joe?”

The faint sound of rustling behind it let her know he was.

“Is that you, Sara?!”

He sounded normal enough. That was a relief.

“Yeah. Thanks for leaving without me,” she grumbled, pretending to be irritated.

“AGH! I’m sorry!! I totally forgot!”

Yeah, he sounded like normal Joe. It was bizarre that he was talking to her through the door, though...

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Totally normal. Not different at all. Same old same old. Why do you ask!!”

That time, he sounded off. Almost like he had a tremor in his voice. Sara turned the knob, but realized the door was locked.

“Can I come in?”

He paused for a few long moments before replying.

“Um… I’d rather you didn’t, if that’s okay…”

“Are you indecent?”

“WHAT!? No!! It’s not like that!” his voice rang through the thick walls, clear as day.

“Then what’s wrong? Please tell me… I’m worried…”

She heard a dramatic sigh from the other side before he finally conceded.

“Ugh… fine… but you have to promise not to laugh, okay?!”

“I promise.”

The door slowly opened, and Sara realized why he’d made such a request. One glance at his hair and she found herself holding back a chuckle. In all honesty, it looked like someone had taken a lawn mower to his head. It was cut unevenly on both sides, some parts in the back sticking up every which way thanks to the hard gel styling his curls. It was already difficult to take Joe seriously before, but this new hairstyle was going to make it impossible.

“...Um…”

He ran his hand through his hair to smooth it down, but it sprung back up in an almost comedic fashion. The poor kid let out another disheartened sigh. He seemed really down; it was unlike him to have such a gloomy expression.

“Pretty bad, right? It’s okay, you can say it. Everyone else made fun of me too.”

Sara gave it a closer look and noticed the hair on his right side was slightly longer than the left. Anger suddenly flashed through her mind; if this had been done as a practical joke, the person responsible had gone too far with it.

“What happened? Who did this?”

“A bunch of people from home room said I should change up my look... at first it was kinda fun to think about, but they all got so pushy… then this one older girl from the drama club showed up. Said she wanted to be a beautician or somethin’. She pulled out all these magazines and everyone poled around us and at that point I couldn’t really say no…”

She didn’t mean to pity him, but hearing this made her feel guilty she hadn’t been there to stand up for him. He was prone to bullying, always had been, but even this was extreme. She cupped his face with one hand and ran her thumb across his skin tenderly.

“Oh, Joe…”

He put his hand on top of hers and leaned into it for a moment or two. Then he gently pushed it away.

“It’s okay… I’m used to being laughed at. How’s this any different from the regular stuff, ya know?”

He was breaking her heart, the way he was frowning like that. She rummaged through her mind, trying to think of ways to make the best of his new hairstyle.

“Hold on. Maybe we can fix it. What if you fluffed it out a bit, like this?”

She reached out both hands and ran them through his hair, combing through the crunchiness of the gel. Her fingers brushed against the sides of his neck, making him squirm ever so slightly. He scrunched his shoulders in defense and let out a breathy laugh.

“Hey… stop! That tickles!”

Feigning ignorance, she fluttered her fingers around his ears and teased him when he giggled.

“Hold still! I can’t fix it if you’re moving around like that.”

“Ehehehe! Doooooon’t!!”

When he was least expecting it, she playfully poked his ribs and laughed when he squealed. He lost his balance and fell backwards onto his bed, giving her the upper hand. She launched an all-out attack and continued to poke all of his worst spots, jumping from his sides to his underarms and once in a while scribbling against his neck, just to throw him off. He thrashed around, giggling wildly with a huge smile plastered across his face.

Eventually, he fought her off, grabbing her wrists and holding them with both hands.

“You’re so cold, Sara! Tickling a man when he’s down…”

Sara giggled back, happy to see him smiling once more. She looked at his hair again, the choppy bits strewn all over his comforter, and suddenly got an idea. 

She stood up abruptly and seized a pair of scissors she saw laying on his nightstand. Her eyes focused on her reflection in the mirror as she held thick clumps of hair in her grasp.

“Hey, what are you do- wait, Sara! No!”

It was too late. Long locks of mousy brown hair fell to the ground. Joe watched in abject horror as his best friend gave herself the most atrocious haircut, on purpose. When she was finished, she turned around to face him.

“See? Now we’re matching.”

Sara now had bangs… uneven bangs, but bangs nonetheless. It would’ve been a cute look, had she finished cutting the rest of them instead of keeping the length on her far left side. To Joe, it looked absolutely ridiculous, so much that he burst into laughter once again. This time voluntarily.

“AHAHAHAAHAHA! You look so funny!!”

Not the reaction she was expecting. Annoyed that her act of solidarity was being mocked, she set the scissors on the table once more before pouncing on him. She began tickling his ribs again, this time much more sadistically. His laughter increased in pitch and sounded much more panicked.

“So that’s what you’re gonna do? Laugh at me when I try to make you feel better? Huh? Huh?”

Joe tried to spit out apologies in between fits of laughter, but was only able to babble as her tickle attack continued. At one point he even snorted, which prompted her to tickle him even harder. His squirming became more desperate, yet his efforts to fight her off were pretty halfhearted. By the time she stopped, his cheeks were flushed bright pink and his hair was even more disheveled than before.

She laid down at his side and spent the next few seconds just admiring him. Taking in his form in all its glory. Even if his hair looked ridiculous, his smile was still sunny and bright and wonderful. Just like him. She reached out and ran her hand through his hair again, holding some of it up to the sunlight coming through his window. It shined in reddish-auburn hues and was soft to touch, almost like silk.

“Hey, it doesn’t look so bad now! I kinda like it with one side styled like this.”

Joe’s laughter had finally died down. Once again, he looked quite sullen, giving her a weak half smile to mask the feelings his heart.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know…”

“I’m not lying! Seriously. I think it looks cool.”

Joe suddenly sat up with an intense look in his eye.

“Say that again!!”

“Say… what?”

“What you just said right now!!”

“Uh, I think it looks cool?”

Before she could finish, she found both arms pinned to her sides as Joe wrapped her into a strong embrace. He pulled her back down onto his bed and buried his face in her shoulder.

“No one’s ever said I looked cool before!! Not one single soul! But hearing you say that makes me feel like the coolest guy EVER! I could die of happiness, Sara!!”

He rocked her from side to side as he gushed and gushed and gushed over his unsuspecting best friend. She didn’t mind it, really, and she loved being in his arms like this, but after a while it got to be too much even for her.

“Alright, alright! Enough of the sap.”

He released her and used the back of his shirt sleeve to wipe his eyes. She hadn’t noticed he was crying until then, but fortunately it seemed like it was the last of his tears.

“Do you feel better now?” she asked, sneakily worming her hand into his.

“Yeah, loads!! But uh, you really didn’t have to cut your own hair, you know…”

“I know. I kinda dig it though. Maybe we’ll start a new trend.”

For a second, Joe looked like he was about to cry again, but his typical joyful expression soon returned. He squeezed Sara’s hand a little harder.

“You’re… really awesome. You know that?”

She smiled back at him

“Duh. Now enough moping around. Let’s go get takoyaki. I dunno if I’m up for another night of your mom’s cooking.”

He flashed her a toothy grin and bounded off the bed, ready to lead the way.

“You don’t have to ask me twice!!”

[bush-viper-cutie]

“The Three Broomsticks” || YEAR 3 – Ch.20 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

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Day posted: 9/15/2020

Word count: 2, 706

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Heather stepped out into the road outside of Honeydukes and jumped behind Harry and Hermione, shielding her face from the whipping wind and stinging snowflakes being thrown around them. They quickly ran down the street and entered the tiny inn before they froze in the blizzard.

The bartender woman smiled at them as they entered and went back to serving a loud group of wizards in the back, calming them down with another round of drinks and chips.

“Butterbeer’s two sickles.” Ron opened his hand.

They stuffed their hands in their pockets and pulled out the coins before making their way to a corner table while Ron got the drinks. They slipped in beside a Christmas tree and sat at the table. Heather looked out the window at the blizzard and shivered in her chair.

The inn was nice, far nicer than the Leaky Cauldron, and cozier too. There was a warm fire next to the bar and the heat radiated all the way to their back table in waves that followed the flames.

Ron came back holding two tankards of butterbeer in each hand and sat down next to Heather. “These’ll thaw us down.”

Heather slid her tankard in front of herself and hummed happily, keeping her hands on the warm wood and feeling the blood return to her hands. She tipped it into her mouth and drank the toasty liquid and set the tankard down with a clank.

“That’s amazing!” It was the most delicious drink she’d ever tasted. Better than eggnog even, and she loved sneaking sips from the Dursley’s eggnog cartons.

Now that their lips weren’t so frozen, Hermione reminded them of why they were there.

“Right… So,” Harry started, looking around. He leaned in and waited for them to do the same. “Fred and George gave us a map that shows all the secret passages out of Hogwarts.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. “They what?”

“They said they didn’t need it anymore, having memorized it all and everything,” Heather said quickly, seeing the face of betrayal Ron was making.

“It’s a secret map too, enchanted to look like normal parchment and everything. It’s really amazing.” Harry avoided Hermione’s eyes when speaking, seeing the look of shock wash away and concern replace it.

Hermione turned to Heather. “You’re going to turn that in immediately, aren’t you?”

Heather pressed her lips together, knowing that would be the right thing to do, if only she didn’t find that map incredibly useful, especially since it had come in handy once before and would come in handy way more, now that she was used to the idea of sneaking around the castle. “Well…”

“Well what?” Hermione demanded. “Do you three have any idea how dangerous that map is right now?” She lowered her voice, “With Sirius Black walking around TRYING to get in?”

“Succeeding, remember. He doesn’t need that map,” Ron reminded them.

“Exactly. Besides, if I handed it in, I’d have to tell on Fred and George. I’m sure Filch realized it was gone and would ask me where I got it. They’d get in trouble.”

Heather nodded in agreement, but knowing that was a horrible excuse. “And, Hermione, do you really think Professor Dumbledore doesn’t know about any of these passages? He knows everything about the castle – ”

“Except the Chamber of Secrets,” Hermione crossed her arms.

“R-right… but that’s different…” she bit her lip and looked to Ron for help.

“Uh,” Ron started. “A-and they came in through Honeydukes! We’d’ve heard about a break-in there if he knew about the secret passage they took.”

They all looked at Hermione who did not seem very happy but couldn’t argue against all of them.

Ron finished the discussion by pointing to a notice posted to the window, reminding them all of the dementors roaming around the village after sundown. “He’d have to break into Honeydukes during the day or risk getting caught by those things at night.”

Heather gasped suddenly, as she spotted emerald green robes walk past the window. There was a rush of air that pulled on their hair as the door opened with a ding of the bell and closed behind Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, and Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

Ron and Hermione pushed Harry and Heather under the table, hiding them from view. Heather watched their feet walk over to the bar, turn, and walk towards them. She heard Hermione whisper ‘Leviosa’ at the Christmas tree, levitating it several inches off the ground. Heather quickly took out her wand and whispered ‘Mobiliarbus’, helping Hermione move it over to cover their table.

Through the thick lower branches of the decorated tree, she saw four sets of chair legs move back at the table right besides theirs and heard creaks as they all sat down in their seats. A pair of sparkly high heels came clacking down to them.

“Gillywater, Minerva?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Four pints of mulled mead?”

“Ta, Rosemerta,” said Hagrid.

“Dry cherry soda?”

“Thank you, thank you!” Professor Flitwick squeaked.

“Your rum then, Minster.”

“Rosemerta, thank you m’dear. Won’t you take a break and join us? It’s lovely to see you again.”

“I’d love to, Minster.” There was a final thump and another chair got pulled back. The sparkly heels moved in front of the chair legs one at a time and with a creak of the chair, Rosemerta sat down.

It was the last weekend of term for the teachers too, and it looked like they were going to enjoy their time in Hogsmeade with the rest of the students. Heather looked to Harry, both knowing this meant they’d have little to no time to make it back to Honeydukes before it closed at sundown.

“What brings you down here, Minister?” said Rosemerta.

There was a pause and in a hushed tone, Cornelius Fudge responded. “I’m on the business of Sirius Black, m’dear. You heard what happened up at the school on Halloween, did you?”

“There’s been rumors.”

“If by rumor you mean Hagrid…” Professor McGonagall sighed.

“Is Black really still in the area? Is that why you’re down?”

“I’m absolutely certain of it.”

Hermione lightly kicked them after hearing the Minister’s words.

“Which means the dementors will be staying,” Rosemerta sounded annoyed. “They searched my pub twice last week – scared nearly everyone away.”

“I am sorry about that, m’dear. I don’t like them any more than anyone else does – those awful creatures – but they are necessary to keep everyone safe. I’ve just met a few and, well they’re in quite a mood. Dumbledore won’t let them in the castle and – ”

“And why would he?” Professor McGonagall cut in. “How can we teach with those horrifying things floating around above our heads? You know how many wizards experience severe reactions to them. Let alone young students.”

“Oh absolutely could not teach with them in my classroom,” Flitwick agreed.

“Yes. But however true that is, the dementors serve a purpose. They protect from something much, much worse. Remember what Black’s capable of.”

“We remember,” came Hagrid’s somber voice.

“I still can’t believe it. All these years and I just can’t,” Rosemerta sighed. “Sirius Black… of all people? I remember him and his friends back when they went to school… If you’d’ve told me any one of them could turn to the Dark Side I’d’ve said you had too much to drink.”

“You know he’s far worse than people realize.”

“What’s worse than murdering all those people, Minister?”

“You remember his best friend, don’t you, Rosemerta?” Professor McGonagall asked.

Rosemerta laughed. “How could I not? They were joined at the hip! Thick as thieves those, two. There was never one in here without the other. Oh, and they were the funniest pair of kids I’ve ever had in here. Quite the double act, those two… Sirius Black and James Potter… What boys they were.”

Heather choked on her breath. She squeezed her mouth between her elbow and coughed. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. She stared at the sparkly heels and shook her head.

“A couple of troublemakers those two, but exceptionally bright – very bright minds. They were the ringleaders of their little gang. Those four…” Professor McGonagall trailed off.

“They were all good as brothers,” Professor Flitwick added.

Professor McGonagall continued. “Inseparable. He was best man at James’ wedding… In fact, James made Sirius godfather to his children.”

Rosemerta’s gasp echoed that of Heather and Harry’s. Why hadn’t they been told any of this? That’s why everyone was so weirdly intense about it all around them. That’s why Mr. Weasley thought they’d go looking… Because Sirius Black was they’re father’s best friend.

“Can’t imagine how that’d torment them to know,” Hagrid murmured.

“Because Black was on the opposite side as James? Black was in league with You-Know-Who?”

“Worse, m’dear. Far worse,” Fudge spoke up. “The Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore had many useful spies, and one of them tipped him off about it and he immediately alerted the Potters. He told them their best chance at hiding from You-Know-Who was the Fidelius Charm.”

“What’s that?”

“The Fidelius Charm,” Professor Flitwick put on his teaching voice. “Is a complex spell that conceals a secret inside of a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside that person and is impossible to find… unless that secret keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the secret-keeper never opens their mouth, the information could be right under your nose and you’d never find it in your lifetime or after.”

“The Potters made Black their Secret-keeper then?” Rosemerta whispered.

“Of course,” Professor McGonagall tapped her foot. “Naturally. Dumbledore offered to be the Secret-Keeper for them… but James told him that Black would rather die than reveal their location, that Black said he’d go into hiding for them… Dumbledore was still worried, however.”

“Did he suspect Black?” Rosemerta asked Heather’s question.

“He suspected someone among them – someone close to them – was keeping You-Know-Who informed. Everywhere the Potters hid, Death Eaters were not far behind.”

“And yet he insisted on having Black as his Secret-Keeper?”

“He trusted him,” whispered Harry.

Heather turned to him and stared into his eyes. He was too focused to notice.

“He did,” Fudge said slowly. “That only lasted a week of course… Just a week after the Fidelius Charm was performed… Black turned them into You-Know-Who sometime that week. Of course, little did You-Know-Who know that’d he’d meet his downfall facing little Harry Potter. All weak and powerless, he fled and died who knows where. With no master, Black was put in a very serious position. He was a traitor with nowhere else to go.”

Hagrid growled. “I met him that day. I musta bin the last to see him! I went down to rescue Harry an’ Heather from their house. It was me what took them to safety. I’d gotten there, seen all that ruin an’-an’ their parents lyin’ on the floor in front o’them… Harry with a big gash on his forehead. Then here comes Sirius Black, in that flyin’ muggle motorbike. He was all white an’ shakin’ in his boots, he was. AN’ I COMFORTED THAT MURDERIN’ TRAITOR!” Hagrid roared.

“Shhhhhh.” Professor McGonagall kicked him under the table.

“He wanted them, y’know. He asked me for them. But I said no. I’d had me orders to get them to their aunt and uncle’s house. He gave me his bike ter use. Said he wasn’t needin’ it no more.”

“It would have been too easy for the Ministry to trace,” Fudge said.

“At least the Ministry caught him next day,” Rosemerta said after a long pause.

“If only we had. One of their friends, Peter Pettigrew got to him before we did. Furious at him for betraying them. Fought Black as soon as he found him…”

“He had always been a poor duelist,” said Professor McGonagall heavily.

“Took a team of highly trained Hit Aurors from Magical Law Enforcement to take him down. I was a junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes… It was a sight to see. The giant crater and Black standing there… right in the center standing over bloody robes and… the remains.”

There was a long pause.

“Well, there it is, m’dear. Took twenty squad members to bring him into Azkaban, where he stayed for twelve years.”

“But he must be mad now, spending all that time in Azkaban.”

“You’d think that. No, I met him my last visit to Azkaban… Everyone else normally sits in their cell, muttering wildly to themselves, rocking back and forth, staring at the walls… Not Black. He spoke to me quite clearly. So normal, it was unnerving. He asked for my newspaper, ha! Must’ve been bored… How he managed to stay sane is beyond me. He was the most heavily guarded… dementors posted outside his door and barred window day and night.”

There was another pause and a clink of glass on wood.

“Minister, if you’re dining with the Headmaster today, we should get going,” said Professor McGonagall.

One by one they all got up and pushed in their chairs. Professor McGonagall’s emerald green robes swung back into place just at her ankles and slowly everyone but Rosemerta left the inn.

There was a flurry of snow that had blown in as the door swung closed, and Harry and Heather stayed sitting there in shocked silence. Heather was shaking her head, unbelieving everything they’d just said. She pushed everything away, hating it all. She hated knowing about her parents and their past, hating thinking they existed without them.

They were names and words, sounds without meaning. And now she knew her father had a best friend, and a group of loyal friends… and he was a troublemaker and a brilliant wizard and… he’d trusted his bestest friend with his life… and the life of his family… ‘Quite the double act, those two’… She shook her head again.

“Heather?”

“Harry?”

Heather and Harry looked up at Hermione and Ron, poking their heads down to check on them. The tree had been moved back and it was clear to come out. They sat back in their seats and sipped the butterbeer in silence. Ron and Hermione never spoke a word the rest of the time.

“We should head back,” Harry pushed his empty tankard away.

Everyone nodded and they slowly got up. They exited the Three Broomsticks and ran back to Honeydukes. They were told they were closing soon and the first chance they could, Heather and Harry snuck back down to the cellar, leaving Ron and Hermione standing worried and awkward alone at the door.

The tunnel walk back to the castle was quiet between them. She knew Harry had a million questions and wanted to talk to her. He kept glancing at her as they walked in the light of their wands, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the rocky ground.

When they were younger, she had always rejected the idea that their parents had died in a car crash. She’d told Harry stories about how they were simply dust clumps come to life for the sole purpose of annoying the Dursleys. And now she couldn’t stop thinking of two young boys running around Hogwarts, throwing dung bombs in the halls and getting yelled at by Filch. About a boy that looked very much like Harry, wearing ruby red robes and flying around in the Quidditch Pitch. About people laughing at his jokes.

She was brought back from her thoughts by Harry asking for the spell to open the witch up again. She mumbled the spell and let him lead her out.

In no time at all she was lying on her bed, face buried in her pillow, trying not to think about what James Potter would have been like as a father. He was a bright wizard… would he have been proud of her? She crawled under the covers and stayed there through dinner.

In the end, she decided it made no difference. She closed her eyes for bed as the other girls blew out their candles. If she didn’t care what her grandparents or great, great, great grandparents were like, why should she care what they were like?

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@lokilover-39

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@lady-of-black-roses

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[loopy777]

Okay, so I wanted to expand on that idea of that dream I had further with you. So stop me if I’m getting ahead of myself. Imagine an animated atla movie that takes place after the movie, with Mai and Ty Lee being the main characters (movie being Mai-centric), with Mai and Zuko finally getting back together at the end of the movie! The conflict will be about some kidnappings in the Fire Nation but Zuko is stressed/busy to solve it, so Suki ask Ty Lee & Mai to deal with the kidnappings. (1/3)

As Mai and Ty Lee start their investigation, they realize that the kidnappings were only focused on people who were in the army when the Fire Nation tried to invaded Ba Sing Se. This information was obviously interesting to them, so they tell Zuko about it. Zuko, being now nervous that Ty Lee and Mai are gonna be in actual danger since they were also people who invaded Ba sing Se, decided to end the operation. An argument happened between Mai & Zuko, leading Mai and Ty Lee to do it instead.(2/3)

So they found the base of were kidnapped would be held. And as they sneak around the underground base they found all the people who were kidnapped, but the issue arise when they realize that’ll be difficult to get everybody out without being noticed. So Ty Lee promised the people that they’ll come back with help, but as they about to leave, they saw... Long Feng! And he was behind the whole thing! I haven’t figured out how it’ll end, so what’s your take on it? And how would you end it? (3/3)

That sounds cool! I love detective stories.

Before I get into how I would end it, though, we need to figure out what the story’s about. So far, we’ve established that it’s Mai-centric. We have her getting back with Zuko. We have the main mystery directly relating to her past actions in service of Azula and Fire Nation Imperialism.

Clearly, we’re dealing with Mai’s “redemption.”

Now, I’m not saying the character is in need of redemption. The cartoon used shorthand, but we did see her side with Zuko’s vision and the gAang accepted her by the end. So, for the purposes of accepting AtLA as it is, we get that the intention is for her to be on the side of the angels in full by the end. However, as long as we’re in fanfic land, we never really had Mai refute her accusation to Zuko that he’s betraying the Fire Nation by siding with the Avatar, so we can pay off on that now.

So, given the elements in the sandbox so far, we have an opportunity for Mai to clearly condemn her earlier actions and philosophy.

And since Long Feng is our villain, he has to be her contrast in some way. We know he’s kidnapping people who he thinks wronged Ba Sing Se, and it’s probably for some kind of revenge. By why the kidnapping? Why not outright murder? Well, Long Feng used to have a brainwashing scheme going...

So, back to the story! Mai and Ty Lee see Long Feng! He was behind the whole thing! They try to get away to get word to Zuko, but they get spotted and the bad guys try to capture them. Mai and Ty Lee fight in self-defense. Their attackers are a few old Dai Li agents supplanted by some other Earth-patriot extremists in the style of Jet. Long Feng joins the fight, too.

Mai and Ty Lee fight well, but they’re soon overwhelmed. Ty Lee is taken out of the fight! She tells Mai to run, to save herself! Mai realizes that it would be the tactically smart move, but that’s not how she rolls. She runs back to save Ty Lee. She thinks she’s going to die for the sake of friendship, but she knows she owes Ty Lee her life, and so she’s comfortable with the trade here. She just wishes she could have said goodbye to Zuko, and she really does regret that they couldn’t find a way to make it work. She takes up her last blades and faces down the enemy...

And Aang bursts in with the gAang, followed by Zuko leading in a Fire Army, and they save the day and capture the bad guys and capture Long Feng. The captives are freed! Zuko orders them taken back to the Capital for treatment and eventual return to their homes. The day is saved! Hooray!

But something is bothering Mai. She goes along with the gAang back to the Capital. Zuko explains that he roused the gAang when Mai insisted on continuing the investigation. They followed the same clues as Mai to the general area, and then Toph found them by sensing the big fight.

Zuko expects Mai to be angry, but she’s actually grateful. She appreciates him backing her up. That’s what she wanted in the first place, but their argument got in the way. They have a heart-to-heart about why they broke up. In this case, I might steal borrow @privatefire‘s good idea of Zuko having a mistrust of Mai’s safety after hearing how she almost died in the Boiling Rock. Things aren’t quite resolved, though; Mai realizes she’s done nothing to get Zuko over his worry, so they can’t be together. She does accept his invitation to recuperate in the Capital on his dime, though, as long as Ty Lee can come.

And the night after everyone has been brought into the Capital, while Zuko and the gAang and the elite of the Fire Nation sleep, Long Feng’s real plan starts. The prisoners, all of whom were brainwashed for this exact moment, have their programming triggered and they rise up as an army to take control of the Capital for him. Long Feng doesn’t just want revenge- he wants to replace the home he lost because of the Fire Nation. The ex-army people, with surprise on their side, are able to take care of any security and seal off the Capital. They free Long Feng and let in the remnants of his own extremist army. They’re going to kill Zuko and the gAang and the fire-nobles, or perhaps use them as hostages to get the rest of the world to back off. Then they’ll reach out to the colonies and Earth Kingdom and create a new global federation of Earth-outcasts, led by Long Feng. He will be the Earth Emperor, and he has definite plans to use his new powerbase to conquer the Earth Kingdom. The rest of the Fire Nation islands will be their colonies.

But Mai figured out, just in time, that Long Feng wanted to get him and his prisoners captured, so she and Ty Lee are able to avoid being taken. But now they need to rescue everyone! Lots of action happens here, and perhaps a duel with Long Feng on the outside of the central tower of the Fire Palace. Ty Lee fights the brainwashed ex-soldiers and frees the gAang, her own style uniquely suited to not hurting the brainwashed people. Mai defeats Long Feng, but I’m thinking she does it by somehow destroying the whole Fire Palace.  Perhaps she does something Long Feng on purpose to redirect his Earthbending to undermine the tower, and it crashes down on the rest of the palace. I want the symbolism of her not just protecting the Fire Nation, but rejecting imperialism in all its forms. So, after a harrowing night, the day is saved.

Closing action: having been saved by Mai again, Zuko admits that his worries about Mai are hypocritical. They will both always need to be saved, by each other and their friends, if they keep fighting for the good of the world. He has to bring Mai into his life, stop keeping secrets from her, if they’re both going to be safe. He asks Mai again if they can be together. She says yes...

...if he does some action to make up for previous Fire Nation imperialism she helped perpetrate. Perhaps she wants Zuko to pledge funds and soldiers for the defense of the independent colonies. We can allude to this being the start of the United Republic Army. We’d have to set up in the beginning of the story that the safety of the former colonies is threatened by bandit groups and maybe even each other, and the smaller independent settlements can’t put together the forces to defend themselves and Aang can’t be everywhere.

Anyway, Zuko agrees, he and Mai get together, the palace will be rebuilt to not be so spiky, and all is well.

...

You know, that’s not half bad, especially for building off a dream. That’s why I always write down the dreams I have that actually seem to have some kind of narrative structure. Mostly, though, I just have dreams that make no sense.

[charlierejouis]

Edens Zero Week: Favorite Moment

Ladies and gentlemen... he did it.

He actually did it.

I expected Mashima to find a way out of the dark situation he wrote himself into with chapter 84. I could see Weisz going on without an arm for the rest of the series. I could see the team getting back Happy and Pino. I could imagine Shiki, Homura, and Rebecca finding a way to break free and help all their friends. But once Drakken Joe shot Shiki, I knew that something had to change.

But I could never imagine Cat Leaper’s awakening in chapter 84 being what it was. Of all the possibilites Mashima could have gone with to bring things back to normal, this wasn’t one I could have expected. And yet, the more I think about it, there wasn’t any decision he could have made that would have sense. In honor of Edens Zero Week, I’d like to talk about what makes the activation of Cat Leaper such an amazing moment, along with its future implications for the series.

Strap in, because this is gonna be a long one.

What happened when Cat Leaper awakened?

To start, let’s talk about the moment itself. To be clear, I am speaking of the proper awakening of Cat Leaper in chapter 84. Even as the ability is revealed in chapter 64, I’ll be refering to that moment as the unlocking of Leaper for the purposes of this post.

A big reason for this is that Drakken Joe makes a distinction between Rebecca’s ability to use Cat Leaper to move very fast and the actual power that he’s trying to steal. That power

If I have anything to criticise this moment for, it’s that it’s taking place in a shower. On the one hand, it’s the only place that Drakken Joe wouldn’t reasonably put cameras in, which is important to this moment happening at all. Still, I don’t like that this important moment is happening while Rebecca’s naked. It’s worse considering you have moments where we go from Rebecca think about Drakken Joe to her being in the shower, as opposed to a consistent view from that flashback perspective.

That being said, the awakening of Cat Leaper is dependent on not taking advice. Upon seeing Rebecca still brooding about what happened to her friends, he flat out says, “forget the past”. In his mind, there’s no point in dwelling on the past. After all, it’s not as if there’s anything she can do to change it. It’s irony like that which is why I love Mashima’s writing.

With the actual moment, it happens because she wishes that she could change the past. Specifically, she wishes that Shiki wasn’t dead. And that was the trigger for Cat Leaper’s awakening. She wanted to return herself to a place where Shiki could have been saved and was brought to one of the easiest places for that to happen: right before going to Belial Goer.

The crazy thing about this is that there was a subtle hint towards what’s about to happen within the chapter title. You’ll notice that the title of this chapter is “A World Without Shiki”. If you were to read this without knowing about this moment, it would mean that the world has to move on without Shiki. Knowing what happens, the title is describing what is at stake for the rest of the arc: a world without Shiki.

Speaking of which...

What did the awakening of Cat Leaper do for the Belial Goer arc?

In the most literal sense, all it did was reset the events of the arc by about 15 chapters, from the middle of chapter 69 to the last few pages of chapter 84. This resulted in much of the darker events of the arc to be negated near entirely.

Near, being the operative word. Yes, Weisz doesn’t lose his arm to Fie. Yes, Shiki doesn’t die. And yes, the crew is prevented from being held as prisoners by Drakken Joe. However, that doesn’t mean that events are the same as before.

Notice that the amount of time Rebecca has been out has changed. In chapter 69, Sister Irvy says that Rebecca was out for about a full hour. In chapter 85, she says it’s only been half an hour. With the thirty minutes saved, she’s able to prevent the EZ Crew from going to Belial Goer and setting off the events that set up the future Rebecca came from.

Not to mention, the EZ Crew doesn’t find Labilla in the same state she was. In fact, they didn’t find Labilla to begin with. In this universe, Amira infiltrated Belial Goer, pretended to be Labilla, and hid the real one in a dance hall. Rather than finding Labilla as the victim of Daichi’s sadistic tendencies, she was accidentally spotted by Homura.

In one sense, this power can be seen as Mashima finding yet another way to keep his characters from dying. As someone who has made that complaint multiple times about his writing, I understand where that comes from. This is something that has shown up in both of Mashima’s other major works.

However, we were well prepared for this aspect of Cat Leaper’s abilities by Rebecca’s fight with Nino in the previous arc. I questioned why this wasn’t a bigger aspect of Rebecca’s reaction to activating it originally. This doesn’t strike me as Mashima breaking the rules of reason to keep a character in the narrative. This feels like a deliberate choice on Mashima’s part.

When Rebecca unlocked Leaper in chapter 64, Xiaomei hints at her understanding of the Ether Gear being limited. She outright says, “This power may save the universe one day... Yes... it is the power of possibility.” That doesn’t sound like something you’d expect to be said about a simple speed boosting power. And we already knew that Leaper was more than just a speed boosting power.

Even before then, we were introduced to Xiaomei in chapter 5, who made an important declaration. “In this story, time doesn’t really mean much.” By the end of that arc, this could have been assumed to mean that, with the existence of chronophages, time can be more relative from planet to planet. When we learned that time could be reversed with Leaper, characters were less bound to time than they would have been otherwise.

Not to mention, Rebecca doesn’t make it through the jump unscathed. While she didn’t experience and physical torture, she had to live through the events of the future. She has the mental scars of the event and has been shown to be apprehensive about doing things that could cause harm to Shiki or Weisz.

In erasing the previous events of the arc, there was another important thing that happened. The nature of the arc changed. That’s not me being hyperbolic.

Up to chapter 82, the main goal for the arc was to fight Drakken Joe. The expectation of the arc would be to fight the various members of the EZ Crew to fight Drakken Joe’s goons, including the Element 4. Ultimately, this would culminate in a final battle between Shiki and Drakken Joe. That’s not a bad set up for an arc.

But, after the awakening of Cat Leaper, the arc still has the EZ Crew fight with Drakken Joe’s people, and Shiki still fights the Element 4. However, the change in events results in a shift of the arc’s focus. The motivation for these actions became trying to reach out to people who may become friends by the end of the arc in Kris and Labilla. Not to mention, there are reconciliations with Sibir and Amira, opposing forces from previous arcs, that were made possible by the change in events.

What does Cat Leaper’s awakening mean for the rest of the series?

I can’t say that Xiaomei’s assertion that time doesn’t reallly mean much should be taken as literal as it may seem. After all, the reason that the revised plan works at all is becasue she woke up at a different time than before. The extra thirty minutes was the difference between life and death.

However, knowing how Cat Leaper works really does change how we see the rest of the series. Our understanding of the series has shifted from a normal set of events happening on a linear timeline to a set of various timelines beginning and ending at various points where Rebecca come to and from.

Knowing that Rebecca has been using Cat Leaper to avoid other events has put a lot of moments into perspective. Of course, it explains the flash forward at the end of chapter 4 and the nightmare that Rebecca had in chapter 69.

However, it does leave fans with an interesting question: is it possible that Cat Leaper is responsible for the change in other events throughout the series? Does Rebecca die because of the kidnapping to Guilst by Illega in another timeline? Does her initial meeting with Shiki have a different result in a different timeline and is that meeting the result of Cat Leaper in the first place? Is the fact that Rebecca and Labilla aren’t friends anymore the result of Cat Leaper? These are questioned opened up to fans with the awakening of Cat Leaper.

As for how the awakening of Cat Leaper specifically affects Rebecca’s character from this moment on, that will stand to be determined. Her ability to become an Ether Master was mentioned in that previous timeline. However, I’m more interested in the after effects of the mental trauma she’s experienced through the jump in timelines. How that plays out will be interesting to see take place.

For example, if (not necessarily when) Mashima decides to push Shiki and Rebecca’s relationship towards a romance, we’re going to look back at what happened in this arc. This may be the start of Rebecca realizing that she wants Shiki to be more than just her friend. Presumably, Shiki would have something awaken similar feelings in him.

I’m not currently hyped over any EZ ship, but I love what we’ve been getting regarding Shiki and Rebecca’s relationship. The first chapters gave us a great look into their complimentary views on robots as people and friends. And as the chapters have continued, it’s been interesting to see their relationship change and grow. Recent chapters have even been showing links to their Ether Gear abilities. This moment serves as a great reminder of that.

Of course, this also could cut in a darker way. If Shiki ends up in a situation where his life is on the line, how will Rebecca respond? Even facing Drakken Joe before he fought Shiki was enough to trigger traumatic memories for her. Of course, Cat Leaper may come in to prevent his death from sticking. But at what point does Rebecca break from the stress of seeing her friends die again and again?

It’s worth noting that Mashima has been known to use both to his advantage in writing characters and character relationships. While an overall lighthearted series, Edens Zero has had its fair share of dark moments, starting from the very first chapter. It will be interesting to see what direction Mashima takes this in.

Where should Mashima go from here?

One thing I worry that current and future fans, along with Mashima’s detractors, may complain about is that a power such as Cat Leaper may result in the series tension becoming nonexistent. Of course, that’s contingent on Rebecca being able to control that part of Cat Leaper and that’s not entirely a given, considering we already know it causes a number of problems. But if that happens, that would theoretically mean that Mashima could kill characters and bring them back as he pleases. There’s no way Mashima could prevent this.

Right?

Let’s ignore the obvious issues with this accusation that we’ve already touched on somewhat. I doubt that people who’d make these accusations actually care if events differ from time lines, Rebecca carries mental scars from the events through the timelines, or that this was set up long before we got to chapter 84. They’d likely only care that a character who was dead is brought back.

Before chapter 99, I would have said that there was one important thing that Mashima can do in the future to prevent this accusation. If and when Rebecca activates Cat Leaper to undo previous events again, this ought to come the cost of something else. Yes, the group is able to prevent a character from dying in a new timeline, but it comes at the cost of something or someone else precious to the group. In some cases, a tragic incident can happen across both times despite trying to change events. 

Of course, this isn’t without precedent. In chapter 2, we learned that Happy died after a car accident and Professor Weisz is responsible for his current cyborg form. It was revealed that the first time Cat Leaper was ever used, it was used passively to correct her dying in that same accident. In other words, while Cat Leaper prevented her from dying, it wasn’t used to correct the incident altogether. In my eyes, that was proof enough that Cat Leaper isn’t a magic “get out of death free” card.

However, I still would have said Mashima would do well to not make that the only instance where escaping death comes at the price of something else. While I’ve thought losing Weisz’s arm might be the next step, as long as something important is lost that isn’t undone, the effect is the same.

What a difference a couple of weeks makes...

With the most recent chapters, it seems as though the current timeline has come at the cost of Captain Connor as part of the EZ Crew. While his impact on the series was relatively minor up to this point, it’s hard to say that his current position won’t have an effect on the series. When he first showed up, the existence of other Edens ships was debated. Chances are that the EZ Crew will have to meet with the Edens One sometime soon. It stands to be seen if that will be a happy meeting or not.

Now, if Mashima really wants to really mess with us, we’ll see Rebecca use Cat Leaper a few more times throughout the series. We’ll see some of the similar effects here and there. However, at the end of the series, we’ll see a lot of the major antagonists serve as the final bosses for the EZ Crew. As crazy as that might seem at this point in the series, if certain spoilers are anything to go by, I wouldn’t be shocked to see something like that happen.

In Conclusion:

Cat Leaper is an amazing moment in its own right. But, while its main focus was overwriting events of the series, it also managed to change the nature of both the arc and our understanding of the series. It will be fun to see what this means for the rest of the series and how Mashima plays with it.

If you didn’t know, I talk about new chapters on this blog every Wednesday. If you’re reading this after June 30th, I might have the reaction for chapter 100 up now. I’ve also talked about the decision to go find Mother in chapter 3 for last year’s EZ Week.

See you!