#ive... got another chapter ready

[citrine-elephant]

holding myself down as i go rabid the moment i gain consciousness, too fuckin excited about making things and unable to stop my howling to the stars

[saeshiraw]

tired girl hours i’m just ranting bcos i don’t have enough time to cry

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[acesofspadess]

Track Walk

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

Miami 2024 

“Hello lovely F1 fans!” You said to the camera you were holding quite close to your face, “We’ve got a bit of a different setting today, because we are at the…” You took the camera away from your face to show the full setting, “Miami GP!”

You were a small F1 content creator who had become known for your at home ‘track-walks’. Every Thursday you would walk around your neighbourhood or get on the treadmill and walk the length of the race circuit for the weekend.

“This is my first ever GP, as you all know, and I just can’t explain to you all how excited I am. A big thank you to Liquid IV for sponsoring this trip, and this video. We are starting at the P1 box, because obviously. We’ve got a total of 5.4 kilometers to walk, so let's get to it.”

Throughout the walk you filmed information on the track, the city, the race, and even some snippets of fans who happened to know who you were.You were doing a light run when at one point in the video you saw a group of papaya and flipped the camera at them and slowed to a light jog, “I think those are our papaya boys, if I’m not mistaken.” You whispered into the mic. As you jogged past them you looked up and saw it was just Lando with some of his team. 

“Good luck this weekend.” You called out as you surpassed them. “Cheers!” Lando called out with a small smile. You smiled back and continued with your jog and video. “Meeting Lando Norris, can check that off the bucket list.” You laughed softly to the camera. When you made it back to the P1 box you started to end the video. “Well that was so much fun, thank you again to Liquid IV for bringing me out here. Cheers to a hopefully amazing weekend.”

An amazing weekend it was indeed. That Sunday you watched Lando Norris get his maiden win. It was safe to say you were crying in the VIP box as he crossed the line. That night you went back to the hotel with endless happiness, your life couldn’t get any better. Or so you thought.

You woke up that morning to your phone buzzing relentlessly. Every two seconds it felt like someone was liking, commenting, and following you. You sat up in shock logging into tiktok to see that your most recent track walk video had jumped from a few thousand views and likes, to millions of each, and your follower count was soaring as well.

You went through some of the comments laughing at them saying this was your first grand prix and it was the best one ever. Some said you wishing him luck was the reason he won and you replied to those comments teasingly.

It was a few hours later when you were getting ready to head back home that you saw the best notifications. 

Lando Norris liked your video

Lando Norris commented on your video

You were thoroughly freaking out. You opened tiktok for the hundredth time that day to see if your eyes were deceiving you, they were not.

Lando Norris: "Maybe this was my lucky charm. Thanks for the good vibes! 🧡"

You screamed in the comfort of your hotel room as you read it, replying back.

“I’ll need to come to a lot more races this season if this is the outcome. Congratulations! 🧡”

Hungary 2024

A few weeks had passed since Miami and everything that came with it. You still continued on your content journey with track walks and other videos with your new following. “Hello lovely F1 fans, old and new. We are here with another special edition track walk!” You cheered showing your surroundings. “I’ve been doing some overtime and made my way to the Hungaroring, so let’s go on a walk…” 

The walk itself went as normal, shared some info, showed the surroundings, and made it seem like a facetime time call. It was almost comical how when you were walking off the track you actually bumped into someone, that someone being Oscar Piastri. “I’m so sorry, I was not paying any attention.” You apologised immediately. He just chuckled, waving you off. “Don’t worry about it. Making a video?” He said looking at the camera. You nodded shyly. “Yeah another track walk.” He nodded at the information, slowly getting awkward. “Well, in true fashion. Good luck this weekend.” You bid and he thanked you with a chuckle.

Once again, it was a Mclaren win. This time, it was for Oscar. You were starting to go a little crazy. How was it that everytime you came to a race McLaren won? Again your video blew up, and like clock work, Oscar commented.

Oscar Piastri liked your video

Oscar Piastri commented on your video

You opened the video and tapped on the comments to see what he had put…

Oscar Piastri: Guess I owe you a huge thank you for the good luck wishes. Let's see if this works every time!”

You giggled lightly at the comment before writing a reply back…

“I’d go to every race if I could! Congratulations !!!”

Zandvoort 2024

Over the summer break you worked endlessly on your upcoming finals for your graduation in December. You were missing F1, and needed your fix. In a last ditch attempt at getting your best friend to come with you, you ended up back in Zandvoort.  “Hello F1 friends! We are here in Zandvoort, home of Max Verstappen. We’ve got lots of orange here so I’m just going to say everyone is in papaya.” 

There was no meeting on track this go around, but that night just as you were getting ready to call it, you got a DM from McLaren. You thought it was just a community thing and glanced at it, but when you saw your name, you sat up quickly. You opened it with shaky hands and read the message:

“Hey Y/N!! Hope you're enjoying your weekend in Zandvoort so far! You’ve got a name here in McLaren and we want to invite you to spend the rest of the weekend with the team in the garage! If you send us a photo of yourself, we can get you your passes by morning! Just give us a call when you get there and let us take care of everything else.” 

It was safe to say you might be receiving a noise complaint from your neighbours. Immediately you grabbed your camera and turned it on. “Hi friends, I’m shaking right now,” you laughed in shock. “McLaren just invited me to their garage this weekend. What the fuck?!” You showed the camera your phone where the message was still up. “Your girl is going to the McLaren garage, which means vlog time.”

You cut the video there and replied to McLaren with immense gratitude and a photo.

Walking up to the paddock entrance you had phoned McLaren and let them know you were walking up. You saw someone in Papaya and they waved at you enthusiastically. She passed you your passes over the barrier so that you could scan in. “This is crazy.” You said while she laughed. “I run all the social media accounts, and when I saw your videos I just had to pull some strings for you. You’re genuine, we like that at McLaren.” She told you honestly and you smiled bashfully. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

She then gave you a run through of everything happening in the garage, in the hub, and in the paddock revolving McLaren. The paddock wasn’t new to you, but this whole experience was strange to you. “And then you have a scooter to get around as well. Just don’t hit anyone because papaya is an easy colour to notice.” You laughed with her knowing how true it was. “I’ll do my best.”

You bounced between sides all morning, watching the teams set up the car for Lando and Oscar. You loved both drivers equally, you would never be able to choose one. You were on Lando’s side not paying much attention to your surroundings when two bodies stood in front of you. You looked up to get out of the way when you saw Oscar and Lando. “Following us now?” Lando asked with a smile. “I should ask you the same thing.” You shot back and Oscar chuckled. “They told us this morning you would be here for the rest of the weekend. It’s nice to see you.” Lando nodded in agreement and smiled happily. “It was a last minute decision to come,” you told them, “and then I got invited into the garage, it’s definitely going to be a good weekend.” The three of you laughed softly knowing the hidden meaning. “Well I’m certainly looking forward to a win this weekend.” Oscar shared. “She was my lucky charm first.” Lando pointed out. “Don’t fight!” You laughed, “I’ll be cheering the both of you on, see?” You took off your hat to show the underside of the brim. Each side had a number on it. “I stitched two of them together.” You informed. “That’s actually really cool.” Oscar said, taking the hat for a closer look.

“Your nails! Osc look at them.” Lando said taking your hands in his and showing off your nails, one hand was dedicated to Lando and his famous helmet design, and the other side was Oscars helmet design with a croissant on the ring finger. “Very funny.” He said when he saw it. “It was this or a cat.” You shrugged and Lando laughed as Oscar shook his head.

“Boys!” The two drivers looked behind them to see the clock counting down. “I will not be the reason you two don’t win this weekend so do go.” You pushed them lightly. “Thank you for coming, we’ll chat again later.” Lando said, going in for a hug. “Of course, go top both practices.” You cheered as Oscar also gave you a hug before the both of them went to their respective sides of the garage.

f1gossipofficial 

liked by user4 and others

f1gossipofficial Who’s that? Today before FP1 both McLaren drivers were seen talking and hugging with someone in their garage. In a different view, we can see that the person is content creator Y/N L/N who has gone viral for being the duo’s ‘good luck charm’. The three seem to be very cosy considering they’ve never officially met. 

view comments

user4 THAT SHOULD BE ME

user5 she posted a mini vlog on her tiktok this morning! She said McLaren dm’ed her and asked for her to be in the garage

User9 awwe that’s so sweet of McLaren to do for her 

user6 something about her doesn’t seem right

user7 don’t start, she’s one of the nicest people I’ve seen on tiktok

user8 another McLaren win is incoming

The following two days of the weekend were spent filming and nerding out over being in the garage. Lando and Oscar of course got super busy over the following two days, but they still managed to give you a wave when they could. Watching the race from the garage and hearing the live feed, watching the pit crew get ready for the pit stops, the actual pit stops, it was beyond magical for you. And without fail, one of the boys won, this time in Lando’s favor by 20 seconds.

You got to celebrate with the team, some of them recognising you and saying you needed to be here more often. Days like this were what you dreamed for. In between the chaos, you never managed to say goodbye to the papaya drivers, but they did DM you.

Lando Norris has followed you

Oscar Piastri has followed you

You’ve been added to a groupchat with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri

Your eyes almost flew out of your head when you saw the notifications. This wasn’t happening, you thought but you clicked on it anyway.

Lando Norris: We didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, but we just wanted to thank you for your support and coming to as many races as you can!

Oscar Piastri: Lando’s said it all, but hopefully you can come to another race soon, and we’ll try to win even if you can’t.

You laughed at the very opposite but almost the same message from each of them. Your hands were shaking as you replied back.

Y/N L/N: You were having too much fun celebrating the win! A big thank you to you guys as well for making it so easy to support a great team. Hopefully I can get to a race soon! If not I’ll be watching from home still cheering you guys on!

Oscar Piastri: you don’t have to be so formal 😂I feel like we can call you a friend if you keep helping us win

Lando Norris: what osc said, don’t be a stranger.

Y/N L/N: no need to bully me! You’re a-listers! How else was i supposed to respond

Lando Norris: OMG!!! I can’t believe you texted me!! You followed me too OMG OMG OMG. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH 🧡🧡🥰🥰🥳🥳 ASGKWBEWOEHJ

Oscar Piastri: like that ^^

Y/N L/N: that’s what I’m doing on the inside lol, but i think I would block myself if I did actually typed that

Lando Norris: yeah it was a bit weird to type 😂

Oscar Piastri: great, now I have two of you

You tilted your head at the comment but shook it off. You were pretty similar to Lando on the goofy side of things.

Y/N L/N: Don’t worry Oscar, when I’m not on an adrenaline high like I am right now, I’m more like you than you think

Lando Norris: great, now there’s two of you

Oscar Piastri: i’ll have to see this in person then

Y/N L/N: is that an invite I’m hearing?

Lando Norris: sounds like it to me.

Oscar Piastri: it was indeed.

Y/N L/N: i’ll see what my work and class schedule looks like and I’ll get back to you on that offer. Graduation is soon so i’m balancing a lot of things

Lando Norris: its my offer too!!!!!!

Oscar Piastri: what do you go to school for?

Y/N L/N: noted Lando, and sports journalism, dream job is to work in F1.

Lando Norris: That’s mint! I think you’ll do good

Oscar Piastri: you’ve got a very warming personality that I’m sure all the drivers will like. If you ever need to practise, we’re here.

Lando Norris: If you twist my words I’ll know you did it

Oscar Piastri: Lando!

Y/N L/N: Lando!! 😭 I promise I won’t, this season especially really helped push me into this because I hate the way the media portrays two/three of the nicest people ever.

Lando Norris: i know we’re the two…but who’s three

Oscar Piastri: guess 🦁

Lando Norris: NOOOOOOOOO

Lando Norris: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEE

Oscar Piastri:  😂😂😂

Y/N L/N: IM SORRY!!! I CAN’T HELP IT!!

Y/N L/N: Oscar!! Why would you throw me under like that!!

Oscar Piastri: *this user is no longer available*

Lando Norris: invite has been taken back.

Y/N L/N: nooo!!! I’m sorry!!! OSCAR!!!!!

Oscar Piastri: *this user apologises for the chaos he has now unpacked*

Baku 2024

Within the three weeks that passed between Zandvoort and Baku, Oscar and Lando never stopped texting you. The three of you figured out you had a lot in common and clicked like magnets. Over that time, you had plenty of new followers and decided to do a Q&A on your tiktok.

“How am I able to go to so many GP’s? Are you a millionaire?” You laughed after reading the question. “I’m not a millionaire by any means. I saved up for about a little over a year, didn’t go out with friends unless it was a birthday, didn’t buy unnecessary stuff, just was really good with not spending so I could treat myself this year. I’m in my last months of uni, which I got a full scholarship for, so not having to worry about school costs is also a great help.”

“Have you spoken to Lando and Oscar since your time in the garage? They follow you now too.” You thought quickly about it, “I haven’t no,” oops. “They were just being polite and doing their jobs when they saw me in the garage. As for the following thing, I can’t tell you why they decided to do that, but I'm not complaining.” You chuckled.

“What are you studying in Uni?”

“I’m in my final months of my sports journalism major. That's why I’m a big fan of F1, but also F1 got me into journalism, it's a circle of interest.” You mimicked drawing a circle that never ends.

In those three weeks you had also moved your group chat out of Instagram.

Osco: Is it terrible to say I miss having you in the garage?

Landito: wow Osc, straight to the point

Osco: leave me alone

Y/N: if it's anything I miss being in the garage, but no it’s terrible

Landito: what he means to say is…. we miss seeing you in person

Osco: facetime isn’t enough

Osco: come to Baku?

Landito: we took back her invite remember?

Osco: you took back your invite…

Y/N: i’ll be there already

Landito: WAIT REALLY???

Osco: is this a prank?

Y/N: yes really

Y/N: and no not a prank

Osco: answer please

Your phone started ringing just as you read it. You were in no position to be facetiming two people you now had a crush on… yeah, that also happened over the three weeks. You tried to tell yourself they were just being nice and you were caught up, but the way they acted sometimes led you to believe otherwise.

“Why am I looking at the ceiling?” Lando pointed out. “Because I am in no way showing you what I look like right now.” You laughed at them. “Yes you are.” Oscar commented. “We facetimed you for a reason.”

“Face please.” Lando asked sweetly, and you rolled your eyes. There you were in your McLaren x Reiss jacket, curls thrown up into a mix of a bun and ponytail, and glasses over your eyes. “You wear glasses?!” Lando said peeking over Oscar’s shoulder. They were always together, you started to realise.

“Yes, Lando. I wear glasses.” You shook your head with a small smile. “Well, you look beautiful as always. What’s this about you coming to Baku and not telling us?” Oscar moved on swiftly. “It was supposed to be a surprise! I was-”

“Nope, if it’s a surprise we shall wait.” Oscar cut her off. “I don’t want to wait though.” Lando groaned from behind him. “It’s in 2 days, Lando.” Oscar said, looking at the head that was now on his shoulder. “2 days too long.” He mumbled. “I promise it’ll be worth it!”

And worth it it was. After your track walk, there you were, the media pen, questions about the upcoming weekend ready, with an F1 TV microphone in your hand. F1 had reached out to you after your Q&A video asking about your sports journalism career. One thing led to another and here you were.

“Hey Max, first things first, how are you feeling this weekend?” Max smiled. “I mean, I’m feeling fine, I definitely need to get in the car to see how we do on track. Not very well if you’re here though.” 

“You know who I am?” You asked in shock. “All other drivers hope you don’t make it to the races with the track record you have, but someone told me I was one of your favourites.” Of course they did. “Well they wouldn’t be lying.” You chuckled shyly. 

Max leaned on the gate as you got your questions ready. "This year has seen a shift in the competitive order with McLaren and Ferrari stepping up. You’ve still proven to be one of the best drivers this season and currently lead the Drivers' Championship, with Red Bull fighting to stay at the top in the Constructors’. With three titles already under your belt, how do you maintain focus when the dominance you’ve grown used to in both championships isn’t guaranteed anymore—especially heading into a high-risk, high-reward circuit like Baku, where unpredictability often plays a major role?"

Max seemed a little shocked with the question. “I mean…” You nodded along as he answered and when he finished and the camera was off he smiled. “Those were very good questions. I look forward to seeing you the rest of the weekend.” You smiled at him. “Thank you, it means a lot.”

You got similar style compliments from other drivers and when the papaya boys walked in and spotted you they both smiled but had to work their way down the pen. Oscar was the first to get to your station. A quick glance to his eyes showed the professionalism he was using to hide the sheer excitement at seeing you again. “Hey Oscar, you’re going into this weekend with a double podium from Monza, how are you preparing for this weekend to get the same results if not better?”

Oscar chuckled. “Well if you’re here then a McLaren win seems to be in the cards.” You shook your head at him as he smirked. “But…”

“Thank you Oscar, good luck this weekend.” Before he left he reached over the barrier to give you a quick hug. “Nice to see you again.” He said before walking off. Lando quickly took his position and gave you his eye-closing smile. “Hey you.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Hey Lando, after the double podium in Monza, it’s clear that McLaren has made significant strides this season. With the Constructors' Championship in reach with just 11 points to Red Bull, how do you approach a circuit like Baku, where opportunities and risks are amplified? Do you feel this weekend could be pivotal in swinging the fight for the Constructors’ in McLaren’s favor against Ferrari as well?"

Lando tilted his head. “You’re one of the only people who’s brought Ferrari into the Constructors fight.” He pointed out and you shrugged lightly. “You’ve said before that Red Bull isn’t your competition, Ferrari is.”

Lando’s interview came and went just as quickly as Oscars and he too ended the interview with a hug. Charles and Carlos were just after and both of them mentioned knowing who you were and to take a stop at their garage.

The weekend went really well. Any free time you had was bouncing between garages and meeting new people. And like clock work, McLaren won the race, in Oscar’s favour. You were doing post race interviews and the wide smile on Oscar’s face when he saw you made your insides warm. “Please come to every race.” He joked and you laughed lightly. “Congratulations on your win today Oscar, after some very good fights with Charles…”

Because you had to go through every driver, and then got invited to talk about your experience on F1 TV-

“We are bringing on the voice you’ve heard all weekend, Y/N L/N.” Laura introduced as you walked into the middle of the group. “How are you?” She asked. “I’m doing really amazing. It’s been such a busy weekend for me, all thanks to you guys for inviting me and giving me some on the field action.”

Will Buxton spoke next. “You’ve become a big name here, everytime you come to a race, a McLaren driver wins. How is that even possible?”

You laughed alongside the rest of the panel. “I just put 50 kilos of extra weight in everyones car before the race this time. I think I’ll run the engine out next time though. Make everyone have grid-penalties.” You joked and they all laughed again. “It’s been so nice having you with us this weekend! We hope that you can join us again sometime soon!”

-you were able to stay much longer into the evening. Making your way to the McLaren garage you saw that they were prepping for a team photo and you quickly got your camera out to snap the moment for yourself. “No, you get in here too!” Zak yelled seeing you and the team cheered in agreement. You shook your hands not wanting to spoil it but then you were getting picked up from behind by a shoeless Lando and plopped right to Oscar.

Oscar placed an arm around you with a wide smile. “This is too much.” You told him. “Nope, it’s not.” He smiled again. You shook your head but smiled and cheered for the picture as well, and then the champagne. The team member next to you handed you their bottle with a wink at Oscar. Right as the photo ended you shook the bottle and made sure to douse Oscar as he tried to run away. Lando also joined you and the three of you were getting drenched in everyone else's champagne.

“There are two of you!” Oscar joked. “Yeah you might be right about that.” Lando laughed, clearing champagne from his eyes. “That was fun!” you laughed clinking Oscars champagne bottle. “You’ve got about 5 minutes before you start to smell.” He laughed and then your face fell. “I don’t have a change of clothes!” Lando laughed as you freaked out and Oscar just hugged you. “I’m sure we can find you something to wear.”

They did, you were wearing a team kit from their spare room in the hub. It was enough to get you to your hotel room. “Want to ride with us to the hotel?” Lando asked coming to walk with you as you reached the doors to walk out. “Yeah that sounds good.” He took your hand just as you were going to exit. “We have to wait for Oscar.” He said and you nodded and without letting go of your hand he dragged you back towards the main area.

“Did you enjoy your weekend?” He asked as you two leaned against a wall. “It was an amazing weekend.” You smiled giddily, closing your eyes. “I hope this doesn’t change that.” You opened your eyes to see Lando coming closer to you, eyes looking down at your lips. You nodded lightly and he closed the gap between your lips. His teeth nipped yours, with a sense of impatience. “Just couldn’t wait could you.” You broke away with his head resting against yours. Oscar. Why did you feel so guilty? “Oscar I-” He just shook his head with a laugh coming to your otherside. “I won, does that mean I get a kiss?” 

You looked at Lando who still had that dazed smile, then back to Oscar. “You didn’t tell her, did you?” He said and Lando shook his head. “We’re dating, now can I kiss you please?” He said quickly before taking your lips in his. His kiss was softer but still as impatient. “We’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He sighed when he pulled away. 

“Really?” You asked softly, hand coming to press against your tingling lips. “Yes, since we started texting you. Oscar and I just couldn’t get you out of our heads.” Lando said with a small smile. 

“I thought I was being delusional.” You chuckled softly. “Not at all.” Oscar's hand went to your hip softly squeezing. “Come to Singapore with us, please.” You looked at Lando who took your hand and held it in his own. “Please.” You nodded almost in a trance.

[acid-ixx]

Hi! I had a question about batfam x neglected! reader. Will it have a happy ending? Love your work! <3

— masterlist !

hello anon !! now, as much as i love happy endings, and as far as my plans go since ive mostly written out outlines for simply the newer chapters but not much for endings, i would say that it most definitely wouldn't be a happy ending/s in terms of being kidnapped back into the manor (before your boyfriend whisks you away), or (even if i love him a lot) getting together with conner—

all because you've long since given up on your family, so trying to love a newer version of them that coddles you all the time, never having any moment of privacy, being given physical affection that you never quite know how to reciprocate or receive; you're bound to be overwhelmed. sure, you've got what child-you always wanted, always desired, but it's so hard finding an inkling of an answer as to why now did they decide to just love you?

is it because you've matured, or do they only like a version of you that used to chase after them, and now they miss that integral part of your life? is it out of sheer guilt of their neglect— or have they always loved you from the start, just never knowing that they did?

either way, breakdowns are a common factor of your life if you were ever kidnapped. you'll always be held, even if you push them away. always peppered with kisses, or hands that linger on your cheeks and the expanse of your back throughout the shivers of fear that someday they might just snap at you for always fighting back. you're not forced to play the fantasy that everything is normal, that your past traumas were never existent—

bruce ensures you get proper therapy sessions alone (though cameras are always plastered in whichever room you may be) and with the family, you can take your time, that is only one freedom they allow you to have; but he always wishes that you'll soon find joy in the way they care for you; no matter how many years it would take, no matter if you fight back with your nails digging deep into their skin or a hidden weapon ready to drag out a fight you know you'd never win.

and it doesn't help the fact that you feared all of them as much as you loved them back in the past, at the knowledge that they're vigilantes, of their powers and abilities that could easily snap necks or break bones. even if you learn to adjust, their strength will always stay a primordial fear of yours— especially if it were jason's finger that slowly tighten overtime without his knowledge whenever he finds himself cuddling you in the soft, bruce's arms that stay dormant on your back, acting as both your support and cage every time he leads you to another, or damian who could turn anything he holds into a weapon used against anyone who threatens his time with his older sibling, even duke's metahuman ability warrants more panic attacks than fascination on your part, no matter how gentle and approachable he portrays himself to be in front of you.

you know it in yourself that you'll truly never get used to whatever love they throw your way, no matter how little of it was given in the past, or how overwhelming overflowing it is in the near future. it's just who you are, a child of bruce who doesn't truly comprehend their feelings.

and if you ever do adjust, if even possible, who's to say it will get rid of the overbearing sense of doom that unsheathes itself stubbornly upon your beating chest, whispering in every crevice of your mind the possibility that their affections are all a farce; that they'll soon lose interest in you the moment you reciprocate.

as for conner, your ending with him might be considered a happy one, if it means you're completely and perfectly willing to live an isolated life with the man of your dreams. i mean, you've already been neglected and left alone all by yourself for more than a decade— is conner leaving you for just a few minutes or, at most, an hour, speeding through different places to restock your pantry in a home in the middle of nowhere going to affect you that much?

well, the answer is... yes.

once you complied that, yes, you're perfectly fine relying on your man for your wants and needs, your desire for physical affection and even your bodily desires— it quite frankly means you've agreed to become one with him, your life will be full of memories of just you and conner, all alone with nowhere to escape, no place to hide; exposing all the deepest parts of yourself for a man who've you met in a bar.

at first, it would all go well. he's always loving you, nothing about that will change; always basking you in gifts, lavishing your home into various decorations he knows you'd love, holding you whenever you're down or need a shoulder to cry on; that's the reason why you even wanted to be with him in the first place. but what will change is your independence, and the foundations that you built based upon boundaries, will crumble.

there will be no secrets to be kept, no emotions hidden. you can journal, still, and be left alone to your whims but you know that conner will always read your entries, or worship your art right after. eating breakfast, bathing, picking and wearing clothes; all your routine life will be done with him. everything about your relationship focuses purely on codependency, on feelings so viscerally raw and pure to the point you both destroy each other in indulging your wants.

your relationship with conner will soon turn into your addiction on him for every single decision, every moment spent together; every year, months, hours, minute, seconds of your days all dictated into the man you're going to spend the rest of your life with.

even arguments, either small or huge, will always lead to you finding comfort in the arms of the person you fought against. you've nothing but him, he's nothing without you. even fights will dissolve just as quickly because you're too scared that he'll leave you, and conner hates it when you look at him with the same look you display whenever you think of your family.

at least for conner, though, you'd be living a life of raw, undulating pleasure. he'll indulge in you, of course he'd do for his lovely little (soon-to-be) spouse, but you gotta remember that "you're safer with me. okay, baby?" that translates that contact with any other human is rarer than finding specks of gold in a river, and anyone outside of your home life is an immediate threat to conner, who shields your exposure to the public, who kisses and wipes away your tears whenever you'd break down after a fight, who'll always be right behind you when you least expect it.

just like how it's always should've been.

i'm back to answering asks, so feel free to send in some conspiracy theories or whatever guys. it's been quite some time that i did and i miss doing so, so expect more of these especially for my main series and occasionally for loving family, unpalatable desire 😭

anyways, the simple answer for this one is: choose your poison. i'm not implying that these two are the only endings. i have so many paths i want to take and i haven't even introduced an integral character yet to the plot. conner is one of them, but there's another and anyone can guess who it is; but i'm sure barely anyone would get it right unless i drop a hint hehe.

— back to the topic, which one would any of you pick? loved by too many, or loved too much by one 'til it destroys you? or do you choose the secret option and move to a country and change your entire identity and hope to god that nobody else would fall in love with you? i think the last option is most realistic but conner kent is also tempting so...

[boredpotate]

Happier Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Arcane or any music I link. I only own the concept for this story.

Concept: Isekai Fem Reader turns back time to fix her timeline, but has unforeseen consequences.

Powder Pov

"You really are a little artist. You like your new addition to your army kiddo?" I ask Isha as she colors another toy that Ekko made for her. She nods her head rapidly, not breaking her focus on coloring the toy robot while wearing a smile on her face.

"Good to know you like it." Ekko says, sitting on the other side of Isha, keeping the kid between us, before reaching to wipe some food off of her face.

It's been a few days since that operation happened; five days to be precise. After things calmed down for everyone, Vi and Cait went more into detail about what happened in those mines before leaving to check on how the others were doing, and then report their findings. Apparently some old rich guy from Piltover was running the gang and they were using orphans to work in the mines.

"Did she finish her food?" Dad asks as he walks over our table, making Isha pick up and present her empty plate to Dad, "Good job kid. Looks like you're getting your appetite back." he says as he pats her head which makes Isha giggle before going back to her coloring.

After all the kids from the mines were checked on by doctors, we decided to take Isha with us back home and dressed her since Y/n seemed to really care for her.

'Y/n.'

Their name echoes in my head again. I recall her lying down on the table again. Coming back with uncle's medicine to see a more clear view of her injuries with her clothes cut open. Watching as fragments were removed from the surface level of her body. I didn't get to see much more after Professor Heimerdinger arrived, but just by the look on his face before Ekko and I stepped out of the room, I was able to tell it wasn't good. Even when that Viktor guy arrived, it didn't help ease my nerves.

She had some close calls when it came to some deeper wounds in her back, but they would heal with time. The worse was her leg. They said she may recover, but if she woke up she wouldn't be able to walk right for awhile. Cait offered to house her until then but..... that didn't feel right for some reason. Luckily dad suggested housing her in one of the guest rooms we have available since buying out the old building connecting to ours. It being a more familiar place for her to wake up than in a fancy place was his reasoning.

Uncle Silco and the professor pay visits to check on her condition and make sure her IV is working. We sometimes find Isha checking in on her too.

Speaking of Isha, she's been a bundle of joy for the place. Took time, but eventually when she started getting comfortable she started showing her kid self more. Doesn't cause trouble and if she does it's harmless stuff. Ekko and I have taken over the duty of watching over her; I can see why Y/n cares for her a lot. Only took a few days for me to grow attached to her, and it looks like the same goes for the others. She doesn't talk, but she's expressive enough to convey how she's feeling and actually knows some sign language. Can write too.

"Kid must feel lucky. She's got her own personal attack dog ready to go rabid for her." Benzo says as dad brings the plate behind the bar to clean.

"Tch. More like a reckless bodyguard. Ignored all the thugs in the area and just gave into impulses." Sevika says as she nurses her drink at the bar, sitting near Vi and Cait. All of them off duty.

"I wonder what that's like?," I say sarcastically as I glance at Vi and Cait. Cait giggles a little while Vi gives me slight glare before I look back to Isha, "Take my advice kid, and appreciate it while it lasts. Next thing you know she's gonna get all lovesick for a cutie and start stalking her." That get's a chuckle out of people that hears, since pretty much everyone knows how protective Vi is.

"C'mon Pow Pow, y'know I would do the same for you. AND. I did not become a lovesick stalker. Right, Cupcake?" Vi says and looks to Cait to back her up, but get's a skeptical look instead.

"Mmmm, it's not completely wrong." Cait says making Vi look betrayed and the rest of us smirk.

"What!?"

"Sweetie, did you really think I believed that you would "conveniently" run into me every time I went on patrol around Zaun?"

"......It wasn't every time." Vi says, defeated and slightly embarrassed making us all have more of a chuckle from it.

"I did find it cute though. You also made patrols less boring." Cait says with a kiss to her temple to cheer her up, which makes Vi immediately perk up. The scene makes me smile before turning to look at Ekko.

"Hey, I'm gonna go check on her real quick. Keep an eye on her?"

"Go ahead. I got her." Ekko says and I ruffle the girl's head as I stand up and make my way up a set of stairs.

The walk to her room isn't too far from the bar. We decided it would be best that she was close to check on and just in case she woke up with no one with her.

I open the door to see Y/n still lying down on the bed, not having moved a muscle, the light from a nearby window slightly shining on her. I walk to the side of the bed and go to check her IV to make sure nothings wrong and doesn't need to be switched out. Once that is done I turn to look down at her again, this time much closer, and I take a moment to look her over. I see some of the bandages wrapped over her shoulder and collar bone that sticks out from underneath the blanket and take a quick look under the blanket to make sure her wounds haven't opened up again.

Once I see that she's fine I find myself staying to watch her for a little. Usually I'd find this type of thing weird, especially since I hardly know her, but something about her makes me stay longer than needed. It's comforting. She eased the headaches Ekko and I have been having. At first I would just do a quick check up, but then I started staying longer to just watch her sleep. It wasn't just me either. Sometimes Ekko and I will just stay in here and talk while keeping an eye on her.

I take a glance at the door and listen if anyone is coming before sitting down on the side of the bed. It felt nice to be close to her. It felt.... right.

I slowly reach forward and brush aside a few strands of hair behind her ear and I hesitate before laying my hand gently against her cheek and jaw. After caring for her and keeping her clean there's no longer any smudge of dirt or smog on her face.

"Why do you make us feel this way? Why do those headaches go away when near you?" I whisper, knowing she can't hear me or respond. I get lost in my thoughts before noticing my thumb brushing against her cheek and quickly pull my hand away. Calling my strange behavior there, "What is wrong with me?"

I stand up and quickly go to leave, but I take one last long look at her before closing the door and heading back to the bar. Feeling guilty of my strange behavior that I know I should be stopping.

"Why do I not want it to stop?"

Reader Pov

I feel my senses start coming back to me from what feels like a long sleep. I go to open my eyes, but find them hard to open from a bright light. I raise an arm and try to sit myself up on the bed I am laying on and feel myself struggle slightly to do the simple task.

'Wait. A bed?,' I realize before quickly covering my eyes from the light and open them to see myself in an unfamiliar room. I then notice the unfamiliar large shirt I am wearing and lack of pants. I finally see the light that has been causing me trouble is the sun shining through a nearby window, there's what looks to be a leg brace leaning on the wall near the nightstand and I notice that I am connected to what looks like an IV before taking out the tube connected to my wrist, 'Where am I?'

I remember what happened before falling unconscious in Isha's arms. I slowly shift to the edge of the bed and go to stand up; finding myself struggling slightly with my legs feeling weak. One leg feeling very painful to put weight on, so I hold onto the IV stand for support and make my way towards the nearby window and look out after my eyes adjust to the light. I see the streets of Zaun with people going about their day and kids playing.

"Good morning!"

I jump in shock, instinctively reaching for my gun which isn't there, but calm down once I see Professor Heimerdinger.

"Oh, sorry for frightening you. It's good to see you awake. How do you feel?" he asks in his always joyous tone.

"Uh, yeah. Thank you, I feel fine. Some pain in my back, but mostly my leg. My body feels weak though." I say which get's me a chuckle.

"Well that is expected for someone who has been in a coma for five days. S-"

"Five days!?"

"Yes! Now I must ask that you take a seat on the bed so that I may give you a quick check up." he says and I follow instructions while thinking about how long I was bedridden for.

Heimerdinger first jumps onto the bed and checks my eyes before asking me to lift the back of my shirt to look at the bandages I only now notice were wrapped around my torso. He then drops down to look at my injured leg.

"Um, quick question. Where am I?" I ask as he looks it over.

"Oh right! Don't worry young one, you're safe. Currently you're in The Last Drop, the owner of this establishment was nice enough to house you." he answers which makes my eyes widen.

"Vander."

"Yes! You were in quite a severe condition from your task with the enforcers, but you were rushed here to get help. You're lucky nothing vital was damaged. After removing all the embedded fragments and making sure you were stable, Vander and her daughter suggested housing you here. He said it would be better for you to wake up in a place you're more comfortable with than in the Kiramman estate like Caitlyn had offered," Heimerdinger explains before finally looking satisfied with his examination of my leg, "Well, Y/n, it looks like most minor injuries have healed and the more concerning ones are healing fairly quick. The only one that brings concern is your leg. It took a bad hit and will take awhile for you to recover before you can use it normally again, but don't worry. Viktor and Jace both made a leg brace just for you based off your measurements. Easy to put on too." he explains and I nod my head before looking down at the oversized shirt I am wearing.

"Do you mind telling me where my clothes are?"

"Ah, right, well unfortunately they had to be cut open in order to operate on you without risking making things worse. Your armor also did not survive the blast and was fractured in my places; stopping some fragments from hitting you, but also some of it cracking and stabbing into your back. I don't know what was done with it afterwards," he explains and I nod with a disappointed sigh, "Though I am sure Powder will have some clothes for you. Oh! I need to inform them of you waking up! Wait here." he says before rushing off back out the door he came in. I smile at his antics before my eyes explore the homey room.

It has some simple decorations like lamps, a shelf and a wardrobe. Decide to get lost in my thoughts for a few minutes about the situation I find myself in while I wait.

'I really messed up this time.'

*knock* *knock* I hear before I see the all too familiar blue head of hair before seeing Powder's whole head poke in. I see a smile on her face when she sees me.

"Hey, it's good to see you recovered well," she says as she steps in with folded clothes under her arm and cane held in the other, "These should fit you well, and Heimerdinger said you're gonna need the cane to walk. I hope you don't mind if my clothes don't match your tastes. Oh, and your shoes are just by the door." she says as she sets the cane near the nightstand and hands me the clothes.

I over the simple clothing of a pair of pants and a white collared shirt with long sleeves and smile.

"Thanks. This is fine, and thanks for housing me." I say and notice her shoulders drop slightly to be more relaxed.

"Don't mention it. Plus it wasn't that hard to look after you. Even Isha helped a lot." Powder says and makes my eyes widen.

"Isha's here!? I-Is she okay?" I ask and Powder sets a hand on my shoulder.

"She's fine. We took her in after the doctors looked her and the rest of the kids over. You clearly cared a lot for her so we thought it would be best for her to be here," she explains which makes me sigh in relief, "Now if I were I'd hurry before Isha finds a way to sneak up here herself. Ekko and I can only keep her at bay for so long. By the way, how do you know her anyway?," she asks which makes me freeze, "She told us she doesn't know who you are, but she does really like you now for saving her. She makes sure to check up on you every morning."

'Shit. Did not think about that.'

"I..... I kinda knew her parents. They weren't in the best position to support her, so they gave her up." I make up on the spot.

"Where are they now?"

"They passed away. I didn't know which orphanage she was in, and even if I did I couldn't care for her. My lifestyle would have put her in danger." I continue to build off of the lie.

"Hm, how did you know it was her then?"

"It..... It was a feeling," I lie which get's me a brow raise, "I know. It's weird, but it really was just a feeling. I-I can't explain it." I lie again, knowing it's not hardly gonna work to kill her suspicion.

She stares for a second before nodding and goes to leave, but before she does I see her stop for a second before looking back at me.

"H-Hey, are you gonna need help...... y'know... undressing?" she asks with a light blush on her cheeks and I my own cheeks heat up at the question.

"No-No I-I got it. Thanks for offering though."

"Alright, yeah..... cool. I-I'll see you down there. Just head over here when you're ready." she says, pointing down the hall before shutting the door and I hear her footsteps quickly leave.

I take a few seconds to calm my blush down before I start changing. Turns out, I did not completely have it. The pain on my back making it a little hard to take off the shirt I'm wearing, but I still manage to get it off before changing into the clothes given to me. Honestly it felt kinda weird to wear something that was clean and good quality.

I fold up the sleeves just before my elbows before reaching for the leg brace. Now holding it closer I can see the quality of the brace and a part of me hesitates before strapping it on. Once I make sure it's on correctly I use the cane to stand up from the bed and immediately notice the lack of intense pain in my leg because of the brace.

I awkwardly make my way out of the room, trying to get used to the brace and using a cane, before making my way down the hallway to another door where I hear noise. I walk through and find myself on the 2nd floor of The Last Drop. I spot familiar faces sitting at the bar before heading to the stairs. I try to take a step down, but find it a little difficult with the brace and cane making the movement unfamiliar.

"Need help?" I hear and see Ekko walking up towards me, but doesn't make a move to help until I smile and nod.

'Always a gentlemen.' I think before he helps me balance and walk down the stairs.

"Thanks. Not used to moving around with a cane, let alone a whole leg brace."

"No need to thank me. Does it hurt?"

"Nothing I can't handle, the brace helps a lot. I just gotta get used to it. Name's Y/n by the way."

"Oh right! I'm Ekko, sorry, forgot we haven't met yet." he says sounding a little panicked, making me laugh a little.

"Who doesn't know about "The Boy Savior"?" I ask which makes him groan, making my smile widen.

"Man, and here I thought you wouldn't know about that. I don't know why people call me that."

"'Cause you help people. From what I've heard you always try your best to help people."

"So? A lot of people help people."

"Not as much as you do "Boy Savior"," I say again teasingly which makes him roll his eyes, "Sometimes all people need is for someone to care. It gives them hope." I say as we finally reach the bottom step.

"Well, looks who's finally woken up." I hear Vander say and finally notice all the eyes on me now.

"Mornin'," I say not knowing what else to sayin in the moment, before I notice Isha staring at me from behind Powder's legs which makes me smile, "Hey kid, good to see you're alright."

'Most likely kinda scared after I we-' I don't finish the thought because she comes running from behind Powder and crashes into a lower half; hugging me close, 'Maybe, not.' I thought as I run a hand through her hair.

"She's been waiting for you to wake up for days. Always checkin' up on you to see if you're awake," Vander says as I take a moment to take a moment to hold Isha close, old memories of her death going through my head, "Here, you better eat." he says as he places a plate of food on the counter once Isha pulls away, but still holds the bottom of the shirt I'm wearing.

"You-You didn't have to do that." I say which makes the professor look aghast on his stool.

"Nonsense! After being stuck in bed for so long it's best to have a nice meal to start building back your strength and readjust your body." he says and Isha grabs my free hand before tugging me to the corner of the bar counter where Vi, Cait and Sevika are sitting; insisting that I eat, "See? Even the young child agrees." he says which makes me let out a sigh before sitting down at the counter; Isha trying to climb up the high stool next to me to sit down so Powder helps her up.

"Thank you." I say to Vander and begin eating the fresh meal.

'It's felt like forever since I last ate a hot meal.'

"So, I have informed Vander of your condition. I believe after some rest and not putting too much weight on your leg you will recover in no time." Heimerdinger explains and I nod.

"Thank you again. Uh, how much is the brace gonna cost exactly?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. Free of charge! Viktor was the one who wanted it made and insisted you not worry about any payment."

"Really?" I ask in slight disbelief before continuing when I get a nod, "Huh, I guess that's one less thing to worry about. Just gotta figure out how to get back home." I say as I take another spoonful of food. Though I sense a tone shift in the room.

"About that. I, or more like we, were wondering if you got anyone back home to help you recover. We thought someone would come asking for you eventually, but no one showed up." Vander asks as he picks up a glass to wipe down.

"Oh uh, no," I answer which makes Vander look concerned, "I should be fine though. I could hunker down for a few day." I say as I continue eating.

"And if some gang tries something?," he asks and I stay silent; not able to provide an answer, "Mmhm. You're staying here until you recover." he says, making me choke on some food.

"Taking in two more strays I see?" Silco jokes from across the bar with Benzo letting out a small laugh, as Isha pats my back.

"Wait. No I can't st-" I go to protest, but Vander gives me a look which makes me shut up, and Benzo laughs harder.

"Haha! You still got it, huh Vande'!?"

I sit there in defeat after already being shut down of any protests like a damn child, while the three men break off into their own conversations.

'This isn't fair. He used the "Don't test me" look.' I thought as I hear giggles from Powder and Vi.

"Nice try, but when Dad decides on something like this it's better to just roll over. I've tried." Vi says as she gives me sympathetic look.

"Plus I doubt this kid would let you go by yourself. She'd probably follow you down there and I don't think any of us want that." Powder says as she ruffles Isha's hair and hands her a toy robot.

"Thanks. And I'm sorry for screwing up the whole operation." I apologize, but Sevika scoff and waves it off.

"Whatever, it's fine. Wouldn't be the first time we had someone go off the rails on the team," she says as she and Cait give Vi a quick glance, making the pink head roll her eyes, "Plus it turned out better than expected. That explosion caused a noticeable rumble above ground, so when some enforcers found Chross and his guys come out of a tunnel up in Piltover, they put them into custody." she explains making me curious.

"They ended up in Piltover? I didn't know there were mining tunnels there." I voice my curiosity and Cait jumps in to give an explanation.

"There are a few old ones that have been abandoned. Turns out that's how he moved shipments to the Undercity. After interrogation his thugs broke and admitted to crimes, such as paying off some caretakers at orphanages to stay silent and lie about the whereabouts on the children," she says which makes me glance down to Isha who is now coloring the toy, "and the rest of the gang are scrambling without order. Overall a much better outcome than expected, even given the way it went. Your payment will be given in a few days time after we finish our overall report for our investigation." Cait finishes with a satisfied tone and expression on her face before I hear the door of the bar opening.

"Woah, look who woke up. It was about time." I hear and turn in time to see Mylo get elbowed by Claggor.

"Sorry about him. He's still learning how to behave," Powder says as she leans back against the bar counter next to me, "Y/n, these are my brothers, the gangly one is Mylo and the big one is Claggor. Guys, meet the new residence of The Last Drop, Y/n."

"Wait! She's staying here!? Why!? Isn't she still technically a criminal?" Mylo brings up which makes me glance at Cait.

"Right. I forgot to mention. My mother took a closer look at your record and insisted on pardoning you of charges on your record. It was pretty easy to get when it was obvious you weren't targeting any civilians. Though she recommends putting your skill to good use with the enforcers; if not then she suggests at least getting a mercenary license if you want to operate as a mercenary." Cait explains which makes me even more confused.

"There's licenses for mercenaries?"

"Yes. Though it is no longer as common to have mercenaries working around; Silco suggested making it available so that mercenaries would lean towards a more legal line of work instead of working with gangs, which worked." Cait explains making me wonder just how much has changed with laws.

"You didn't know about merc licenses?," Ekko asks as he walks over next to Isha and sets down a pack of what looks like crayons for Isha, and I shake my head, "It was a pretty big deal. Helped a lot when Piltover and Zaun made peace. The council paid any mercenary willing to help with clearing out gangs in Zaun, even if it was just some info."

"See Mylo, she ain't that bad. Stop being an ass" Claggor says, but Mylo scoffs before looking me up and down.

"Well, at least you aren't dressed in rags anymore. You really need a sense of style." he says with a smug look which makes me look deadpan at him.

"You really gonna judge my look, Eyebrows?" I ask, getting a few chuckles from the others and Mylo looks offended.

"I've been telling him the same thing for years." Powder tells me which gets another scoff from Mylo.

"I am, not, getting my brows done. That's a girl's thing." he says which makes Ekko raise a hand.

"Powder does my eyebrows sometimes." Ekko argues.

"Whatever, that's different. I'm not getting my brows done." Mylo continues to protest as he folds his arms, making Powder roll her eyes.

"Fine. If not the brows, then shave the facial hair," which makes him look aghast at the suggestion, "At least the sideburns."

"What!? No way! They're the main part of my look. It's manly. Right guys? Tell her." Mylo says as he looks at Claggor and Ekko to defend him on this.

They both look at eachother, then me, then back to Mylo before acting like they didn't hear anything. Looking elsewhere around the room, making the rest of us laugh.

"Oh, c'mon guys! It looks good." he tries to say, but doesn't gain any support. He then looks defeated before making eye contact with now my own smug look.

"Shave the sideburns." I say as I finish the last of the food on my plate, before my attention is grabbed by the capsule contraption Claggor is holding. Is that a flower?

"What's with the flower?" I ask which makes Claggor smile.

"Glad you asked," he says as he brushes past a disgruntled Mylo and sets it on the counter, "This is a hybrid flower to help get fresh air into the Undercity. It's supposed to be able to survive and produce air, even with all the gasses from the fissure." he says as he twists and pulls some things which gives a demonstration on the flower taking in the fissure gasses.

"What a brilliant idea!" Heimerdinger says enthusiastically.

'Mylo and Claggor working with plants? Never would have expected that.'

"Buuuut?" Powder asks with a slight head tilt, making Claggor sigh.

"But it's not fully working as expected. We got it to start feeding off the fissure gasses, but it's not working out fully as expected. They survive, but won't grow and can't produce enough air down here." he explains as Isha taps on the glass of the capsule.

'What about the tree? That somehow survived.'

"Tree?" I hear Ekko ask and turn to see him and Powder both looking at me curiously.

'Oh shit. I was mumbling again.'

"Oh, u-uh nothing. Sorry I was ju-"

"What tree?" Claggor now asks Ekko.

"Y/n said something about a tree." Ekko says, making Claggor and Mylo look to me. Claggor looking very interested, making me slightly nervous.

'Do they not know about it?'

"Uh, y'know. That one tree in the underground? Has some plants growing around it? Why don't you take samples from those?" I ask, but they look confused, "I guess that's a no."

"A tree? What tree? Where?" Claggor asks, now leaning onto the bar.

"It's not in plain sight. It's hidden in some abandon place, probably where maintenance used to be for the old pipes or something."

"W-Wait. So it's like an actual tree? How big is it?"

"Pretty big. I'd say it's been growing down there before any of us were born, maybe even longer than that."

"An actual tree. Can you show me where it is? Maybe if Mylo and I study some samples and the soil, then we can make a hybrid that can actually work for the Zaun." Claggor asks with hope in his voice and eyes."

"Su-"

"Woah, hold on," Vi says with a raised hand, "I don't think you should be walking around with your leg right? You just woke up." Vi says with concern.

"It's fine. I just gotta make sure not to put too much weight on," I say and turn to Heimerdinger, "Right?"

"Hmm, usually I would say you should rest, but I am also fascinated by this recent discovery. If the location of this tree is not hard to get to, then I think your leg should be fine."

"Not hard at all. Just a walk through some pipes and you're there, though I hope you don't mind getting your shoes wet." I say to Claggor and Mylo.

"As long as there's an actual tree, then it's fine by me." Claggor says and Mylo just shrugs his shoulders.

"Cool. I'll come too. Ekko?" Powder asks and gets a nod before looking at Isha, "And I'm guessing you're gonna wanna come too, huh?" Powder asks and Isha excitedly nods.

Vi then groan as she leans back into her seat.

"Maaan, I wanna see the tree too. Instead I need to go on patrol again." Vi says disgruntled and Cait comforts her with a shoulder rub and Sevika rolls her eyes.

"We can go see it another day Sweetie. Speaking of patrol, we better head out. Stay safe on your trip." Cait says as she pays for the drinks before leaving with a disappointed Vi and Sevika.

I stand up from my seat before looking down at my hip, remembering my lack of weapons.

"You guys wouldn't happen to have my stuff?" I ask, Isha perks up as she jump off her stool and rushes to the backroom, making Powder and Ekko chuckle.

"Yeah, about that. Isha found her way to them, so I hope you don't mind. We were supposed to clean them before you woke up." Powder says, making me raise a brow at her before Isha comes rushing back out with her arms full and wearing two helmets.

She looks at me expectantly as I see she made some cosmetic changes to my gear. Blue and green being the most colors that stand out. My shovel having a smiling face with shark teeth on it, my plain holster now being a mix of blue and green, my revolver having some stars and smiley faces with numbers on the spinning chamber, my gas mask has some little markings added where they could fit, and my helmet is much more colorful with bunny ears on the front. Looking at the colorful gear makes me smile as I pick up my helmet from atop Isha's head.

"I like it," I say before putting it on, "How does it look?" I ask

"Somehow, even more scary than before." Ekko says making me nod in approval before reaching to put on the rest of my gear while Claggor and Mylo discuss with the professor about the potential of their hybrid plants.

I do kinda struggle with reaching around with my gun holster before I feel my hand brush against another and turn to see Ekko.

"Let me help with that," he says as he helps me get the holster around and before I know it he helps with buckling it too; I feel a slight heat on my cheeks from the action, "That good?"

"Yup. Thanks," I say and Ekko nods before I take my gun and shovel and strap them on my hips, then put on my gas mask. Only then do I remember one more important thing missing, "Did you happen to find a journal on me too?" I ask, making Powder perk up.

"Oh right! Sorry," she says before reaching into her jacket and holding it out to me, "Don't worry, I didn't look in it. Just thought you'd want it somewhere safe." she explains and I nod before taking and pocketing it.

'It's best for you to never look in it.'

"Thanks. So I guess we can head out now?" I ask and get nods from everyone and Isha grabs my hand and pulls me towards the doors.

"Dad! We're heading out to go see a tree!" Powder says and get's a nod from Vander.

"Stay safe out there, and don't lean on your leg too much Y/n." Silco says before the three men go back to talking.

As we leave and Isha holds my hand in hers, I can't help but have a nice warm feeling in my chest.

'.....Maybe this isn't so bad.'

Ekko Pov

"Hey, you okay?" I whisper to Powder after noticing her lagging behind the group. All of us now walking through an old pipeline that supposedly leads to the tree Y/n has mentioned. Isha enjoying the the walk in the water, while our shoes are ankle deep in water.

"I am, but.... I don't know. This is just weird."

"You think it's a setup? She seems fine to me"

"No, I don't, but that's the problem. This whole thing feels too fine. Feels too right for someone we just met yesterday. Look at them," she says as she gestures forward at the rest of the group. Bantering about things that come to their minds. I see Y/n, her mask now off and attached to her holster, say something that makes Mylo and Claggor laugh, "She fits in. She fits in too well. Mylo would usually be stumbling over his words when met with a cute girl, but instead they're just joking and ribbing each other like they've known each other since forever." she says, making me sigh.

"I know. I was surprised when Mylo was actually able to let out a sentence without a voice crack." I say jokingly, making Powder slightly glare at me and give me a nudge.

"I'm serious. It's weird, but it's good weird. Even you and I have stayed in her room because it felt nice to just be there with her. You know that's not normal," I remember the times we'd spend in that room, using Isha as an excuse of being there sometimes because she wanted to be there, but I know Powder and I enjoyed Y/n being in the same room as us, "She makes me forget that she's a stranger. We all have friends, but we have a pretty tight knit group of people we really really care for. When I saw the condition she was in that day Vi rushed her in; I never felt that worried before. I thought she was gonna die and that made me want to cry. Even now, I still hardly know her, but it just feels right to be with her. She's hiding something and that makes me feel really upset, and I shouldn't be." Powder finishes airing out her thoughts and finally takes a deep breath. Making me wrap an arm around her.

"You're not wrong. I've been questioning it too.... but is it that bad? Maybe she just fits in really well with us?," I try to argue, but then immediately sigh in defeat to myself, knowing that's not it, "Never mind, I'm just lying to myself. I feel it too. That weird pull to her. It makes me want to protect her."

"Exactly! Whenever I think about how she's hiding something, I really wanted to look in her journal but held myself back. It's wrong, but it feels right. I-I think I see it in the others too. What-What's happening to us?"

"I don't know."

'A part of me doesn't want to know. Just accept it.'

"There just up ahead, it should be there." Y/n says as she points to the light at the end of the tunnel. A smile on her face that brings back that comforting feeling and I feel Powder relax under my arm as we catch up with the group.

Once we finally reach the end I blink to adjust to the sunlight and stare in shock at the actual living tree.

"It's real." I say looking at it in awe.

"Amazing! To think that life somehow found a way to live deep down here underground. Imagine what it must have gone through to adapt to it's conditions!" Heimerdinger says looking at it in awe.

Claggor quickly goes up closer to it with Mylo and the professor following close behind. Isha splashes around the area, she looks to be having fun playing in the water and looking at the insects.

"It's beautiful. How did you find this place?" Powder asks Y/n, who is keeping a close eye on Isha with a smile on her face.

"Just wandering around. Eventually stumbled upon this place one day." she says, but I see her fiddling with her shovel handle. I ignore the sign of nervousness and turn back to the tree.

"I can't believe no one knew about this place. It's like a sanctuary."

"A sanctuary for hope," Y/n says as she glances at me, "Even in the roughest conditions. Life finds a way to thrive. Kinda like Zaun." she says and turns back to the tree. I catch myself admiring her in scenery, apparently a little too long because I feel Powder nudge me slightly and give me a knowing smirk. It's then that we see some slight shine onto her eyes, making her blink and rub at them.

"Damn light." she says as she raises a hand over her eyes and blinking a lot, having a hard time to adjust.

"You really aren't that good with light are you? What's up with that?" Powder asks as Y/n moves to a more shaded area.

"I'm just not used to it. I've spent most of my life in the deep end of the Undercity, so light isn't really a thing I'm used to." she says making me raise a brow.

"You've had to have come up from there at least sometimes right? When was the last time you left?" I ask curiously, and also some concern for the health of her eyes.

"Besides yesterday, it's been years. Last time was when that whole speech about peace between Piltover and Zaun happened on that bridge," she says making both Powder and I stare at her in shock and horror, "What?"

"Y/n. You haven't been to the surface in eight years!?" Powder asks in concern, making Y/n nervous as she helps Isha up from the water after she slipped.

"No. Too busy dealing with gangs honestly. Never really kept up with Zaun," Y/n says as she wipes some dirt off Isha's face, "Wake up, eat, hunt down gangs, sometimes wipe them out and if I'm lucky I get a good amount of sleep. Rinse and repeat." she finishes explaining making me connect some dots.

"That's why you look so confused about laws and the way Zaun is now. You've been completely out of the loop," I say, getting a nod from Y/n, "So you haven't seen how Zaun is now? The markets? Stores? Community? Nothing?"

She looks hesitant and too embarrassed to answer, even getting a sympathetic look from Isha.

'She has been living in the past. Literally.'

"Okay. No, we're going on a different trip." Powder says, sounding slightly upset, as she walks up to Y/n, grabs a hand and starts dragging her back to the pipe with Isha following close behind. Y/n gives me a pleading look to help her, but I shrug my shoulders. A part of me also wanting to see where this goes.

"But-But what about the tree and the others?" Y/n asks making Powder roll her eyes, before tugging Y/n forward almost causing her to fall and looping her arm with her own, holding her close to support her and help her walk.

"They're too busy getting samples and admiring the tree, they'll be fine. We, are going to give you a tour around Zaun."

"You do-"

"Shut up. You don't have a choice. Come on you two." Powder calls back to Isha and I. I quickly catch up them and pick up Isha from behind and place her on my shoulders as we follow behind the two. Powder continuing to drag the reluctant girl. That feeling of everything being right, emerging again.

I don't fight the feeling this time.

Hope you enjoyed reading. Sorry if there are grammar mistakes.

[kamaluhkhan]

COMPLICATED

LUST — part iv of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 8.9k summary: the lives of demigods are never simple. why would your relationship with luke be any different? or: four moments of tension + one moment of release. featuring a trip to montauk with percy, grover, and annabeth warnings: a decent amount of reader backstory (mention of dad having cancer); multiple POVs (percy, grover, annabeth, luke, reader - obv nothing suggestive/smutty until luke and reader POV); luke + reader get into arguments and are v stressed so their relationship is a bit strained; reader has tattoos; reader is on birth control; rough smut (protected + unprotected p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, slight breeding kink, etc...); also slight dark + possessive luke! (18 + MDNI); major angst — we all know how this story ends ;( author's note: this was meant to be a blurb but...here we are! this is basically another chapter of my spill ur guts series lol. i've been gone for much longer than i planned to, but hope u enjoy possibly the angstiest, smuttiest thing i've written so far ♡

♪ "complicated" by avril lavigne

i. 

in the span of a few minutes, percy went from pure joy — being greeted with cheers from all the campers was great, sure, but truthfully the hug from annabeth alone sent him to elysium — to feeling like his heart dropped all the way to tartarus.

which is definitely not a place percy ever wants to visit again. he was happy to be back at camp with his friends, knowing that his quest was completed, his mom was safe in new york, and a war between the gods was prevented.

it should be over….but there’s something in the back of percy’s mind that’s telling him it isn’t. seeing a certain someone in the crowd earlier didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.

"can someone explain to me why clarisse is still here?" 

you raise an eyebrow at luke, and he shrugs in response.  it seems neither of you had decided who should break the news, and neither of you seem particularly excited to do so, even after dragging percy, along with annabeth and grover, into the empty hermes cabin for some privacy.

after another beat of silence, you take the lead.

“look, kid, i know you and clarisse got off to a rocky start —”

“she tried to drown me, and then basically kill me during capture the flag,” percy points out. he hears an ocean roaring at the memory, but that could have also been from his duel with clarisse’s dad, the god of war, more recently.

a duel that percy had won, for the record. luke trained him well.

“and i’m not defending that,” you clarify. “i’m just saying that we’ve known clarisse for much longer. she’s not perfect, maybe a bit aggressive sometimes — trust me, she and i have had some major disagreements, too — but i can’t see her doing something like this.”

“why would anyone at camp want to steal the bolt? to join kronos’ army against the gods?” annabeth wonders. to herself or to the group, percy isn’t sure, but he has a feeling that the wheels in her mind are turning.

“revenge, maybe?” grover suggests. 

almost instinctively, grover glances at you, and so does annabeth. percy wants to kick himself for doing the same. 

with you being the daughter of nemesis, he imagines that it's not the first time you’d been blamed for something just because of who you are. it’s a feeling percy knows all too well. and, for better or for worse, like percy, it seems like you’re not one to accept these things without a fight.

you straighten your shoulders, ready to snap back, but before you can, luke declares:

“it’s not her.”

he then knocks the toe of his shoe against your combat boot. you smile and return the gesture. the tension eases out of the room.

for a second, percy wonders if he’ll ever have someone like that: someone to defend like it’s second nature, to share that sort of secret language with, to smile at him like nothing else in the world matters. 

according to annabeth, the two of you weren’t technically dating — but percy is pretty sure that aphrodite is swooning over you. 

“see, grove? if camp half-blood’s golden boy can vouch for me, then i’m in the clear.” your tone is playful enough — no hard feelings — but the tips of grover’s ears still turn red. “i didn’t steal the bolt. sure, the gods and titans can tear each other apart for all i care — " 

annabeth stiffens at your bold statement, and grover starts to nervously chew on an empty diet coke can he had stashed in his pocket. luke watches you with the hint of a smile on his face, and percy —

well, percy can’t help but admire you even more. 

"— but it's everything else that i have an issue with.”

“everything else?”

you look at percy like the answer is obvious. 

“when have the gods ever fought their battles without us as collateral damage? doesn’t seem worth it to me, to betray my friends.” 

that itch in the back of percy’s brain gets harder to ignore.

“the oracle warned me, betrayed by a friend.” 

“prophecies don't always come true,” annabeth reminds him. “at least not in the way we expect them to.” 

“annie is right,” luke adds, nodding at his sister. “mine didn't. the oracle said i would die a hero.” 

you turn to luke then, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“what? you never told me that.” 

“it doesn’t matter,” luke insists. “my point is that i came back from my joke of a quest, alive and a definitely not a hero —”

“fuck what the oracle said.” you roll your eyes. “dead or alive, you are a hero, tiger.”

you move to place a hand on luke’s arm. to percy’s surprise, though, luke brushes you off.

“i’m not a hero. at least not the one my dad expects me to be.”

again, percy is taken aback by how luke snapped, at you of all people. you huff, and percy can tell that you’re a bit agitated now, too. 

“okay, but that doesn’t mean —”

“my point is.” luke turns to percy, effectively blocking your presence for the time being. “you completed your quest, fought a god, and stalled kronos’ plan. you’ve been through it — all three of you have — but now you’re back. let’s just enjoy the rest of our summer, yeah? whatever happened out there, whatever the oracle said, it’s in the past.”

percy wants to believe luke, he really does. one glance in your direction, and it seems like you do, too.

deep down, though, percy isn’t entirely convinced. there’s that dread in the pit of his stomach, that voice in the back of his head. something in him, warning that this isn’t quite over. the worst has yet to come.

he wonders if — or maybe just hopes — you feel the same.

—

ii.

if you of all people can’t get luke’s attention, grover is pretty sure that the world is ending.

“luke,” you try again, foregoing your usual nickname for him. your arms are crossed and you tap your foot against the floor. it makes grover slightly anxious, feeling your frustration threaten to boil over.

“i’m busy,” he grunts, and flips over another page, scribbling something on the other side. 

“grover wanted to talk to us about something.”

“i-it’s fine, we don’t have to —”

“no, it’s a good idea, grove,” you insist. you smile at grover then. he remembers that, despite the deadly glares you can deliver, like the one you were just giving luke, you have a gentle core. you just guard it behind sharp edges. 

“tell him that i’ll talk to him later.”

“or, you could tell him yourself,” you huff. grover waves awkwardly, even though luke doesn’t realize what’s happening. “he’s right next to me.”

luke looks up briefly, and then back down at the pages in front of him just as quick. he looks tired, exhausted even. 

“sorry, man. didn’t see you there. i gotta finish these reports.”

“no worries. i tend to be quiet on my hooves.”

in the moment of silence that follows, and with luke still not giving you the attention you’re asking for, you walk over to the desk where luke is working. what you see seems to make you even more annoyed than before.

“these reports are for september. why in the name of nemesis are you filling them out now?”

“i just want to be prepared.”

“prepared for what?”

luke hesitates. “just….the future.”

“oh!” you laugh, sharp and sarcastic. “i didn’t realize that the future required you to neglect your friends.”

“i’m trying to help my friends,” luke huffs. he taps his pen impatiently against the desk. “if you didn’t keep interrupting me —”

“oh my fucking gods — ”

grover watches the two of you argue. it had been easier to step in whenever something bubbled up between annabeth and percy, because they were just kids. but you and luke — you were adults. 

when grover met luke for the first time, he was already taking on way too much responsibility for a kid — keeping thalia and annabeth alive, protecting them from monsters, taking care of them. in a lot of ways, those responsibilities didn’t go away: as a senior counselor and resident older brother, a hero for the older campers to admire and the younger kids to aspire to be. camp half-blood’s golden boy, as you liked to call him. 

and, like you, luke is good at hiding. for him, its heavy burdens behind easy-going smiles. 

lately, though, those smiles seem to be strained, his shoulders slowly bending under the weight of it all. the other day, grover asked you if everything was okay with luke. you had looked back at him sadly, shrugged, and said you didn’t know.

that’s when grover decided that everyone just needs a break — an escape. he had been sensing that things weren’t quite right with the others, too. percy seems a little on edge, and so does annabeth.

then, of course, there was you and luke. finding out that the two of you had actually started dating was huge news for someone like grover who had painstakingly watched the two of you dance around your feelings for years. so, it was more than a little weird that you’d barely been speaking this past week. the rare occasion you did was tense at best, and explosive at worst. 

like now, when you pick up one of the reports luke was working on, and threaten to burn it. luke dares you to do so, even suggests, albeit sarcastically, that you use it as your next offering to the gods. 

“oh, a handwritten document from luke castellan himself? they would love that,” you snort. “admit it: you’re doing all of mr. d’s work just to suck up to some gods who don’t even give a shit about any of this. you’re practically olympus’ lapdog.”

luke, blushing a furious shade of red, gets up and yanks the paper from your hand.

“at least my parent is important enough to actually have a seat on olympus and an actual cabin for his kids to stay in.”

you look like you could just about throw luke into a fire, and vice versa. grover had never seen the two of you like this, but it made sense: each of you knowing just where, and how, to hurt the other.

and, he thinks it’s about time to step in before the damage is irreversible. so, grover starts slowly clapping. the clapping gets faster, and he manages to get through the first few lines of the consensus song before you stop him.

“alright, alright,” you sigh. you push past luke, steal his chair, and put your feet up on the desk. luke scowls at you, but you put your hands up in surrender and jut your chin out towards grover. “just listen to what grover has to say and then we’ll let you get back to your precious reports.”

grover tells luke his idea. luke actually agrees, and grover can’t help but feel a little bit of a victory. 

he’s a protector, after all. it’s his job to make sure you’re all alive and happy and thriving. and not burnt to a crisp over some petty argument.

—

iii. 

annabeth had missed home when she was away on their quest, but being back and seeing everyone being taught to worship the gods without question, to believe that the only things that matter are power and glory….well, after everything that happened, after percy, annabeth can’t just go back to doing the same. at least not entirely. 

all this to say, she was totally on board with grover’s idea: the five of you, renting a cabin in montauk to get away from camp for a bit.

unfortunately, the trip starts off less than ideally. you and luke bicker the entire way here — and not the playful jabs you usually throw at each other. 

annabeth remembers the first time she saw you together. it was during breakfast, their first morning at camp half-blood. annabeth had spent the night trying not to cry over thalia, and already missing luke even though he was only a few cabins away. she was still a kid, surrounded by strangers, told that she was safe now, but didn’t quite believe it yet. one look to luke at the hermes table, and annabeth could tell he felt the same way, too — not quite settled in this new place that was supposed to be home, and with these people who were supposed to be family.

she watched as the hermes table went to burn offerings to the gods. when they sat down again, luke looked even more unsettled than before.

but then, you leaned in and whispered something in luke’s ear, and he actually laughed, just a bit, which was a nice change of pace. luke was always the one making annabeth and thalia laugh when they were running from monsters, always the one trying to keep everything together with a smile or a joke.

as she devoured her breakfast, annabeth couldn’t help but keep glancing at the two of you. she heard warnings from her half-siblings, about your mother being the goddess of revenge, and you living up to that name. 

luke either didn't know, or didn't care about whatever reputation you had. sitting there, next to you, annabeth didn’t think she’d ever seen luke so, genuinely happy, so at ease.

all these years later, neither you nor luke seemed particularly happy. you’re obviously avoiding each other, and annabeth doesn’t understand why.

you and luke are a new puzzle that she can’t wait to solve. 

annabeth had finished constructing the most elaborate sandcastle in history, just for percy to accidentally splash it when he was trying to surf a wave; so she decides that playtime is over. it’s time to figure out what exactly is going on between you and luke.

luke is in the cabin doing gods know what. you're on the deck painting your nails, so annabeth decides to start gathering information from you, first. 

“hey." you finish painting your pinky a dark purple, and set the bottle down next to you. "having fun?”

annabeth nods once and sits next to you. she asks if you could paint her nails, and you pull out a bottle of silver polish you said you thought she might like. 

as you work, careful with each stroke of polish, annabeth surveys the tattoos on your skin. you’re wearing a bikini top, so there are some that she’s seeing for the first time. there's one of a knife on your sternum, and annabeth distinctly remembers seeing a similar one peeking from underneath the collar of luke’s shirt. she wonders when you got it, if you had to travel to a tattoo parlour in the city, how many other adventures you'd gone on without having to consult the oracle beforehand. 

maybe that’s a good place to start. 

“have you ever thought about leaving camp? like, long term?" 

"sometimes," you admit. "it would be nice to have some normal early-twenties experiences."

"would you go to school?"

you smile as you keep painting annabeth’s nails. “maybe. i might have seen legally blonde too many times, but i think about law school sometimes.” 

“what about luke?”

your smile fades at the question. “i...i don’t know." your once precise nail-painting falters, and you mumble a curse when a drop of silver lands on annabeth's skin. you swipe it away before continuing. "luke's one of those people i can't really see away from camp half-blood for too long; pretty sure it would burn down without him. there's a reason he feels responsible for everyone there...in a way i respect, obviously, but, it's not the same for me. nobody needs me."

"luke needs you."

you sigh, and annabeth wonders if you even realize how you shake your head slightly. she thinks you're about to disagree with her, but instead you ask: 

“what's this about, annie? are you thinking about your dad’s offer?”

and annabeth’s completely thrown off her line of inquiry. 

“how did you —”

“perce told me that you’ve been talking about staying with him for the year,” you explain. you gesture at annabeth to give you her other hand, and she complies. the silver polish on the hand you just finished glitters in the sun. 

“well, nothing’s confirmed.”

you look up at annabeth, one eyebrow raised. “it's okay, you know — if you just wanna….be a kid for a bit.”

annabeth is silent, prompting you to ask another question.

"what's holding you back?"

“well….at first, i thought it would be a definite no,” annabeth admits. “obviously, it didn’t work out last time. i don’t know if i want to risk it again — if i can trust him, you know? how do i know he actually cares —  that he’ll be there for me when i need him?”

“you don’t.” you pause for a second. “but i’m gonna tell you a story that i think might help.”

you're done painting her nails, so you put everything away. you sit cross-legged next to annabeth, looking out at the ocean.

“my dad never wanted me to go to camp. he wanted to raise me in the city, just like he’d grown up. he’d take me to rock concerts all the time. i was so young, he’d make me wear earmuffs and carry me on his shoulders so that i could still see the band.” you smile softly at the memory. “and then….my dad got sick, he couldn’t take care of me, and monsters started to show up, so he brought me to camp for safe keeping." 

"you've told me all this," annabeth remarks. 

you start fiddling with your camp necklace. annabeth isn't used to seeing you so unsure, so nervous; it throws her off even more. 

"what i haven't told you is that even when my dad got better, he….he didn’t give me a choice of where to stay.”

"oh," is all annabeth can say. 

“yeah, oh," you scoff, but there’s not really any malice behind it. you seem…sad. defeated, almost. your fingers move to play with the hem of your shorts, which causes the fresh nail polish to smudge. you don’t seem too concerned about that at the moment, though. "i told everyone that i chose to stay. the truth is that i stayed because my dad didn't want me anymore. he said that the universe gave him a second chance, so he wanted to live his life without having to worry about monster attacks or taking care of his teenage daughter."

annabeth wonders if luke knows the truth about this; though, considering how difficult it seems for you to admit, she doubts it. 

before, annabeth had a theory that you decided to stay at camp because of luke.

luke was away when you got the news that your dad was in remission. annabeth remembers how happy you were, how excited you were to be back in the city and living with your dad again. you started packing right away.

when luke came back from his failed quest, you had just gone into the city the day before, having promised to visit in the summer and stay in touch. someone – chris maybe, or beckendorf — must have called you, told you what happened, because you came back to camp right away, your bag still fully packed. you never left again. 

"that sucks."

“yeah.” you let out a hollow, breathy laugh. “and, i was angry at first. of course i was. but now, i don’t know. i think that maybe my dad does care about me. like, he still sends me mixtapes with old punk rock songs he thinks i’d like. he actually calls me on my birthday, and we have a 3 minute conversation about nothing important." 

"right…" annabeth furrows her brows. this conversation had definitely not gone as planned. "no offense, but what's —"

"i'm getting to the point," you tell her, bumping your shoulder against hers.  "i realized that sometimes people can only love us in a way that works for them — and it sucks. it really, really sucks. but then sometimes…. sometimes people do actually try. and, i don’t know, it seems like maybe your dad is willing to try.”

“so you think i should take him up on his offer.”

the sun starts to set. you get up, brush sand off your legs. 

“i think it's time for a swim. i also think that you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and who deserves a second chance. just know that whatever you decide — we’ll be there for you.”

you leave without another word, but with the return of your usual confident smile, off to the shore to take advantage of the last bits of daylight. 

"she's right, annabeth." luke appears a few seconds later, takes the spot next to annabeth you had just occupied.

annabeth hums.

"how much of that did you hear?" 

luke doesn't answer. he just stares at your form, disappearing in the distance and diving under the waves.

—

iv.

you clear your throat and luke turns around to see you freshly showered. you’re wearing a pair of shorts and one of the oversized band tees the two of you constantly exchange. you've lost track of whose is whose at this point.

luke resists the urge to shamelessly check out your legs, and turns his back towards you once again. that bikini top you were wearing earlier was bad enough. thankfully, the heat from the stove was enough to cover up his blushing cheeks at the sight of your exposed skin. 

“i thought we were ordering pizza,” you say, moving to peer over his shoulder, chin hovering just above. luke had the sense that you were avoiding physical contact, and as much as it drives him crazy, he knows that he’s the one who’d dug his own grave. pushing you away and whatnot. 

“didn’t know that you knew how to cook.”

“not much,” luke shrugs. he keeps stirring the vegetables — broccoli and carrots and baby corn. he’ll add the red peppers once the broccoli turns green so that they don’t become too soft. he’s pretty sure that’s how he remembers it going.

“i could have helped you.” you reach over and hand him the peppers right on time. you shift to lean your back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed over your chest and eyes following luke. 

luke throws in the chicken he cooked earlier, and then the sauce he had also mixed. he waits a few seconds, lets the sound of everything sizzling fill the space between you. 

“it’s an easy recipe.” luke turns off the stove to punctuate his point. 

and it had to be. something quick he’d make with his mom after she had one of her episodes, before waking up and realizing that she had a son to feed. the sounds, the colors, the smells — it all, overwhelmingly, reminds him of a childhood he once had. one that was never as simple as the food he just made.

none of the bitterness in his throat is caused by his mom, of course. just his father who calls himself a god, and left them both alone to fend for themselves. 

you start getting out plates from the cupboards as you ask: “where are the kids?”

luke checks the pot on the stove to see if the rice is cooked. “told them to go rent something from the video store.” 

“they went alone?”

“they’ve literally been to hell and back,” he replies and sits down at the table. “i think they can handle a blockbuster.”

“i don’t care if they get attacked by monsters,” you state, setting down the last plate in front of him. “i know they can handle themselves. they just better choose a good movie.” 

luke doesn’t mean to snort, but he can’t help but remember all the arguments you’d gotten in with chris over your tastes in movies. 

 “don’t laugh, castellan. i’ve saved movie night on more than one occasion and i’ve never gotten so much as a thank you.” you roll your eyes, but luke notices the ghost of a smile.

it fades just as quickly as it appeared, and luke already misses the small moment of levity that’s passed. 

“what’s been going on with you, tiger?”

you hold his gaze, and luke knows that you’re hoping for a real answer, for the truth he can’t give you. 

“nothing,” he answers instinctively. 

“don’t give me that,” you sigh and turn away from him, returning to your position against the counter. 

“i said it’s nothing,” luke insists, a bit more assertively. “why can’t you just believe me?”

“because you’ve been distant, moody.” your tone is sharper now, too. “you’ve been avoiding me. you’ve barely been eating. the side of your bunk has been empty, which means you haven’t been sleeping, either. gods, i can’t even remember the last time you kissed me —”

“you’re really mad at me because we haven’t fucked?” 

it’s a low blow, and he delivers it as if he hadn’t missed seeing you underneath him. or on top, or beside. luke isn’t picky. 

“you’re impossible!” you groan, and cover your face with your hands. you take a deep breath  before returning to glare at luke. “do….do you not want to be together, anymore? because if that’s what’s happening, i’ll survive. we can go back to being friends.” you clench your jaw to make up for the tremble behind your question. always a tough face, even in the face of potential heartbreak.

of course, luke knows you’ll be fine without him. he’s the one who might have difficulty surviving when you part ways.

“that’s not —” luke sighs and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“noth—”

“i will send you to elysium if you tell me it’s nothing one more time, because i know it’s not!” you’re shouting now. “i might not know what it is, but i know you well enough to tell that something is bothering you. so i’m asking you, one more time, what is going on?”

the thing is, luke can’t tell you — about what he’s done, about who he’s aligned himself with. he can’t lie to you, either, at least not to save his life.

so, he’s basically stuck in whatever the greek mythology version of limbo is. 

for now, he’s saved by percy, annabeth, and grover, who walk in with a stack of DVDs and armfuls of movie snacks. 

dinner is fine, especially with the kids providing a good enough buffer. luke even catches you smiling and laughing along with them a few times. you approve of their choice in movies, starting with mulan. it’s one of luke’s favorites, too, but he can’t help but let his attention wander. 

the two of you have known each other for a long time. luke has felt your anger. he’s felt your frustration. you’ve been on opposing sides of explosive arguments, of brutal sparring matches. 

but, despite everything, luke’s never been hated by you. it’s unavoidable, given what he’s done and the path he’s on; it's just not something he's particularly eager to feel.

working for kronos….luke won't pretend he regrets it. something had to be done, to take back the poisonous world the gods created. 

he did it for you, even if you won't understand.

he'd do anything for you.

so, for now, he’s willing to endure the daggers you stare at him from the other side of the couch. 

—

v. 

in another life, you might have taken advantage of the queen bed and private room. both hard to come by at camp half-blood, if you’re not willing to risk zeus’ wrath for the latter.

gods, it feels like forever since you and luke snuck into cabin one because couldn’t keep your hands off each other, curses and lighting strikes be damned. 

you almost wish lightning would strike — at least then the bed would be warm. 

“i can feel you being mad at me,” luke whispers. 

“sorry, thought you’d already be gone by now,” you respond, sarcasm dripping through your words. “off to see whoever else you’d rather sleep with.”

“so, you are mad because we haven’t fucked in a while.”

a stupid slip of the tongue. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and your entire body feels on fire for giving him any leverage on you. that was definitely not the warmth you were hoping for. 

“whatever,” you mumble, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, your back still towards luke. 

for the record, you’re mad because of whatever distance luke was forcing between you, or whatever wall he was putting up, for a reason you don’t understand. you’d always known luke well, but lately you haven’t been able to read him. 

and, sure. maybe you are…. frustrated. the two of you hadn’t been intimate in a while, yes, and your fingers are nothing compared to luke’s, but more than that: you just miss actually feeling him close to you. in any sense. 

you’re not sure how much time passes, and there’s nothing but silence. then, you hear his voice again, gentler than before, no cocky attitude laced through. 

“you never told me about your dad.”

ugh. of course, luke had overheard your conversation with annabeth earlier. damn those sly hermes’ genes.

you stay silent to give off the illusion that you’d fallen asleep, but luke doesn't fall for it. 

“we’ve shared a bunk for years, karma. i can tell when you’re not sleeping.” 

you pause for a few more seconds, but you know that luke is persistent.

“it didn’t matter,” is all you offer before he asks again.

“it did,” luke insists. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s not like we tell each other everything,” you scoff. “like, why didn’t you tell me about that prophecy? and why won’t you tell me whatever’s going on with you now?”

“that’s….that’s different.” 

“not really. i bet that it’s all for the same reason.”

“which is?”

 you debate telling luke the truth. 

it was no surprise that you had a certain reputation around camp: cunning, hot-tempered, brash. you were fine being the angry girl whose mother wasn’t enough of a god to warrant a cabin, but enough of a threat to be wary of. you didn’t want to be the one who was also dropped by her father, unwanted and too much of a burden. so, you swallowed the reality of the situation; pretended that nothing broke your heart, and that nothing ever would.

“i didn’t want you to look at me differently,” you admit. 

another pause, this time from the other side of the bed. 

“if it makes you feel better, i was glad that you stayed.”

you can’t help it; you let out a sardonic laugh.

“that’s not much of a comfort, since you haven’t seemed very thrilled with me lately.”

“that’s not….” luke falters. “i just mean that i don't know who i’d be if you left.”

in spite of the situation, the ongoing tension between you, you find yourself smiling. 

“always so dramatic,” you tease.

deep down, you know you’re not much better.

luke was part of the reason you might have stayed at camp, anyways. he was the reason why you didn’t fight harder to get back to your old life, and you always did like a good fight.

it was scary though, that one person had so much power over you and didn’t even know it. you tried to convince yourself that you stayed because luke had needed you, after his quest and everything. but, once you’d known how it felt to have luke in your life, you didn’t want to go back to a time you didn’t. 

truthfully, it still scares you.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” you admit softly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “especially when i don’t even know why we’re fighting in the first place.”

you wonder if you’d just thought that instead of saying it out loud because luke doesn’t respond, until you hear the sheets behind you shuffle, and feel luke position himself behind you.

"i'm sorry that we're fighting. it's my fault."

he settles a tentative hand on your exposed hip, where your shirt had ridden up. luke starts to trace circles onto your skin with his thumb, the way he sometimes does when he's nervous or having a bad dream.

"i’ve just been so….in my head. i don't want you to worry about what's going on with me, okay?

"luke —"

"i have to sort it out on my own.”

"you don’t, though,” you insist. “if you just tell me what’s going on, instead of pushing me away.”

another pause. you can feel him breathing down your neck, and in turn you inhale the spicy citrus of his body wash. it’s all so excruciatingly familiar as you wait for him to say something, anything. 

eventually, luke sighs, deeply, and confesses:

"it's just….we've known each other for so long, but this — us? so much of it is new. i don't want to fuck it up." 

"well, congratulations," you quip. "you're one step closer to getting there."

you meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but you feel luke stiffen at your words, his grip on your hip becoming almost painfully tight as if he's worried you'll slip away.

"i'm kidding, tiger." you weave your fingers through his to loosen his hold on you, and reassure him even more that you're not going anywhere, any time soon. "for better or for worse: you’re mine, and i'm yours. no matter how much either of us might fuck it up."

luke shuffles closer, and you melt into him even more. 

"do you really mean that?"

his voice is soft, surprisingly timid. you crane your neck back to look at him; luke stares at you, his gaze heavy enough to take your breath away. 

“of course.” 

you're so close, and you hadn't been in so long. luke's leg is somehow lodged in between your thighs, and you bite back a whimper as he brushes against you. you feel him behind you, already half-hard, and you rub your ass against him slightly, causing a groan to vibrate through his body. 

neither of you have to do much to crash your lips together.

you can sense how luke’s been unraveling, from the kiss alone. his lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure; his stubble scrapes against your cheek, and you’re dizzy with anticipation, imagining how it will leave a stinging sensation on other areas of your skin when luke has his way with you later. 

for now, you focus on your mouth on his: teeth clacking together, your tongue laving over the cut on luke’s bottom lip and tasting copper. luke brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into his mouth even more. 

it’s like the first time you kissed. all consuming. messy. urgent — like you've already run out of time. 

eventually, you have to pull yourself away from his grasp, your neck straining at the uncomfortable angle. luke takes the opportunity to suck bruises onto your neck while he presses his thigh harder against your cunt. he slips his other hand further underneath your shirt, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers.  instinctively, you start rutting against him. 

“f-fuck,” you groan, relishing in the muscles of his naked thigh underneath you, defined and strong. 

luke chuckles, and you feel his breath warm against your skin. 

“you missed me that much, hm?” he taunts, encouraging you to go faster, harder. “you’re gonna cum before i even have a chance to undress you. doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“who —” your breath catches when luke’s hand settles around your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you feel the outline of his abs against your lower back, and his length, hard and waiting. it’s difficult to finish your thought, but you try your best. “who says i only have to cum once?”

“that sounds like a challenge,” luke decides. “what’s our record — three? think we can beat that tonight?”

you laugh, already out of breath. “i think we can do it.”

“good girl.”

your thighs clench at the nickname, and it's one down, a few more to go. 

you maneuver luke so that he lays flat on the bed, your legs on either side of his hips. your hands fumble with the edge of his shirt, and he lets you remove it without any more hassle.

it's a little ironic, really, how much you and luke hate the gods — because looking at him underneath you, you're sure that something divine must have created him, and you have to thank them for it. sharp jaw, deep scar, flushed cheeks; curls slightly askew, and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; that cocky smile — you'd worship luke castellan over any of the olympians. 

secretly, of course, you pretty much already do.

"like what you see?" luke smirks up at you, hands firmly on your ass.

you roll your eyes to save face. "come on, tiger, like you're not seconds away from tearing through your boxers." 

luke clicks his tongue, locks his calf around yours to switch your positions. you grunt as your back hits the mattress, but you very much appreciate the force and weight of luke above you. he practically rips off your shirt, then starts to nip and suck down your body. he kisses the fabric still covering your cunt, and you can feel his chuckle vibrate through your body when he encounters the wetness there. 

"i'm not the one who already ruined their underwear," luke teases as he finishes undressing you. he pauses at the sight of you, bottom half completely exposed. you're about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then luke spits onto your already soaked cunt and says: 

“i need to clean you up, baby.” he gives you another cheeky grin, teeth glowing like the cheshire cat, before diving in.

luke is skilled at everything he does, so of course he's quick to unravel you once more, this time with a persistent combination of tongue and teeth, lapping at your cunt like it's his last meal. 

as soon as you're done riding out your high, you yank luke by the leather cord around his neck to collide your lips with his again. 

you reach down to return the favor, snake your hand underneath the fabric of his underwear, and you're deeply satisfied to find him already sticky with his release.

“you already finished,” you tease, stroking his v-line. "and ruined your underwear without me even touching you." 

in the dim light of the moon, you can barely make out luke blushing. he hides his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. 

“guess we’re both desperate, huh.” luke’s teeth graze your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “i need to be inside you, now, so how about you get on your hands and knees for me? i’ll get the condom.”

sometimes, luke tries to be gentle — but not this time. 

this time, he fucks you, hard and fast and deep. 

you love it, even if you might not be able to walk properly tomorrow.

with so much power behind each thrust, and the overwhelming pleasure, your arms threaten to give out, but luke catches you before you fall. he wraps a hand around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he continues to plunge his length into you. 

"listen to me," luke growls. he snakes a hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit. "the one thing the gods did right is make this perfect, tight little pussy of yours. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?" 

all you can do is whimper, closing your eyes at his filthy, sinful words. 

you aren't used to luke being so possessive, and certainly not in these past few weeks. it's making your head spin in the best way. you can feel your orgasm build in the pit of your abdomen.

"were you made for me?" luke asks again. he squeezes your neck slightly, and you gasp at the pressure. "answer me, or i'll stop." 

you don’t think it’s likely he’ll stop; you’re sure he’s just as lost in the sound of your cunt squelching and the feeling of you sucking him in. but, he does slow down, only a little bit, and it's enough for you to start whining.

"y-yes, luke."

"are you mine?"

you don't answer fast enough. luke stills his hips completely and you almost burst into tears.

you moan, trying to move against him in vain. luke keeps a firm grip on you, making it hard to cause any sort of friction between your bodies.

"i'm yours," you promise.

luke plants a firm kiss behind your ear. “that’s my girl,” he whispers darkly.

satisfied, luke resumes his pace. he moves the hand around your neck to your chin, angling you accordingly so he can crash his lips onto yours. 

it doesn't take long to feel the tension in your abdomen snap, wetness gushing out of you. exhausted, you collapse onto the mattress. luke slips out of you.

the next few seconds consist of you trying to bring yourself back down to reality after such a high. 

luke turns you around just to face him as he hovers over you. he lodges his hand behind your ear and taps your cheek to get your attention. your eyes flutter open.

“did you just —” 

the dampness between your legs, and on the sheets underneath you, is enough evidence: you just squirted.

"i….” you gulp, feeling yourself flush. “i’ve never done that before."

luke stares at your glistening cunt. you wonder if you should be embarrassed, but then he locks eyes with you. you've never seen them so dark, pupils almost fully blown, just a sliver of brown showing through.

"you’re so fucking hot."

your heart flutters. 

“you’re not too bad yourself, tiger, or i wouldn’t be in this mess.” you wink at him, still trying to catch your breath. your eyes wander lower. you note luke in the current state he’s in; you realize that the scales are nowhere near balanced. “that’s three for me, and only one for you. let me taste you.” 

he doesn't need to be told twice. you get on your knees once more, this time facing him as he kneels in front of you. luke rips off the condom, something to deal with later, and you take him in your mouth, cheeks hollowed and tears brimming your eyes feeling him fuck your throat. when he finishes, you swallow him whole, savoring every drop. he pulls you up for a kiss; you can still taste yourself on him, and it mixes with his new release, a combination that is more than a little intoxicating. 

“fuck,” luke mumbles as he pulls away. he swipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth where some of his cum dribbled out. “i know that was intense, but would you be up for another round? "

"yeah," you reply without a second thought, reaching up to thread your fingers through his curls to ground yourself. 

maybe you should thank artemis for the full moon tonight, giving you just the right amount of silver light to illuminate the sculpted curves and edges of luke's body. his skin is also littered with bruises and bites of your design, chaotic and beautiful. luke looks like a mess, just as you're sure you do. 

you want more. you need more.

"we gotta go for four, remember? but...maybe we, uh…"

"....slow it down this time?" luke finishes your thought. 

you nod, grateful that you and luke are on the same page. he scrambles off the bed to get another condom.

"shit. i don't have another one.”

"check my bag, too," you tell him. luke complies, but comes up short once more.  

you’re sitting up against the headboard now, and luke returns to kneel in front of you. 

"i can use my fingers,” luke offers. “or eat you out again —"

“or we could just do without a condom this time?” you suggest. luke raises an eyebrow at you, so you think through the possibilities out loud. "we both got tested before our first time together and haven’t been with anyone since.” you find yourself pausing for confirmation on that, and luke nods once. “i’m on birth control. obviously there’s still a risk that something happens, but maybe just this one time? you can just pull out whenever you’re ready….if you're okay with that."

luke waits, almost like he thinks you might change your mind, before finally answering:

“yeah, i’m okay with it if you are. i’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. i just didn’t think you’d be into it — and didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

you have to kiss him then. because how is it that the boy who just gave you three jaw clenching, toe curling, heart pounding orgasms be so sweet and considerate?

before you know it, you’re flat on your back, sheets slightly scratchy with stray sand. you don't care much because luke hovers above you; he presses his forehead to yours, curls falling in front of his face. 

"just so you know," luke starts, just as you feel him enter you once more. "i must have been made for you, too. i'm just as much yours as you are mine."

you smirk, bite your lip to keep from moaning so that you can keep up the arrogance, just a bit longer. 

"always so dramatic," you mock, as if your cunt isn’t squeezing around him at his sweet nothings. 

luke grins at you sheepishly, his cheeks flushed. 

"guess that means the gods did two things right," you joke, exhaling when you feel luke brush against that gummy spot deep within you. "maybe we've taken them for granted. maybe we should - " he hits that spot again, and your breath hitches. you dig your nails into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth. “maybe we should thank them.”

luke clicks his tongue, grips your hip firmly. "not a chance, sweetheart. the gods’ll get what they deserve."

you don’t care enough to ask luke what he means. you care more about him going faster. you’re about to tell him to do so, and to throw your legs over his shoulders, but he does it himself before you get the chance. you feel him slipping deeper within you, the force and passion behind each movement, his body molding to every curve and crevice of yours. 

made for each other.

you’re so sensitive that your orgasm approaches quickly. as he helps you ride it out, his thrusts get sloppier, and you know he’s almost reached his peak, too. 

“fuck,” he grunts. “i’m close.” luke starts to pull out, but then you lock your ankles behind his neck. 

“don’t,” you command. 

“a-are you sure?” he looks at you, wide-eyed.

“i just want to feel you this once.”

he nods and brings you in for one more bruising kiss. he finishes inside you, warm and wet. 

luke leaves once he catches his breath, and comes back with a damp towel to clean you up. he knows your body, recognizes how sensitive you are, and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, where the same lips had made bruises before. 

even completely fucked out, your mind starts to unpack everything that’s wrong in your life. like how luke has always been a little too good at pretending, with everyone else at least, and something serious must be going on if he's trying to fool you, too.  

this luke with you now, the one who gently wipes his cum from between your legs after fucking you so relentlessly, is your luke. it feels like your luke is slipping right through your fingers, and you’re wracking your brain trying to figure out how this can stop before losing him completely.

wait….did luke say something about getting revenge on the gods? your mind is still a bit cloudy, but you could’ve sworn —

 “are you okay?” 

his question puts pause on your spiraling. he’s done cleaning you up, throws the towel on the floor and settles back on the bed, next to you. you’re close enough for the softest whisper, your limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets.

you watch luke carefully as he waits for an answer and surveys your body, tracing his fingers over the marks he'd left underneath your jaw, across your shoulders, over your collarbones and down your stomach. 

"i didn't hurt you, did i?"

“i’m okay,” you assure him. luke’s hand stops to gently rest on your cheek. your other worries are pushed to the side for the time being: for now, it's just you and luke. “do you think we could pick up a plan b pill tomorrow though, just in case? i love you, but i’m not ready to have your babies.”

luke widens his eyes like a minotaur in headlights. he drops his hand.

 “you’ve never said that before.”

“that i want to have your babies?” you jest, slightly amused at how panicked luke seems.

luke blushes and clears his throat. “well, that too. i meant the whole ‘i love you’ thing, though.” 

your amusement evaporates. you swear your heart stops beating momentarily.

“oh, shit.…” 

you’re not quite sure what to say; you’ve felt this way for a while, truthfully. 

of course you love luke. you can't remember exactly when you realized it, but you just….know.

because if what you felt for luke wasn’t love, then you were foolish to have secretly bought into what silena beauregard had been on about for years, and aphrodite herself might just be out of a job. 

“i know we’re kind of in a weird place, but, yeah, i mean it. you don’t have to say it back —”

luke leans forward to kiss you. gentler this time, but just as firm. “i love you."

"you do?" your heart resumes its beating. 

"of course i do. i have ever since my first morning at camp.”

“yeah right,” you chuckle in disbelief, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it’s not a competition, you know, over who loved who first.”

“karma, i’m serious,” he insists. “someone taught me to burn offerings, and with everything that happened with thalia, i obviously wasn't in the worshiping mood, but then you leaned over and whispered —"

"they like the smell of begging." 

luke grins at you, and you reach up to brush your thumb against the dimple in his cheek. 

"exactly. somehow, that was what i needed to hear. it was nice to know that i wasn't the only one who didn’t want to just accept things the way they were….” he loses his train of thought. luke grabs your hand in his. “i wish i had told you earlier. after all this, i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t —”

“whatever happens,” luke continues, somewhat ominously. “i love you, y/n.”

you hadn't heard luke use your real name in a while. you fall asleep, heart full with the memory of him weaving it together with those three magic words. 

the next morning, you wake up — you actually sleep in, for the first time in years — and decide that if you could stay here forever, you would. 

the morning sun stings your eyes through the sheer curtains. the sticky heat of summer sits heavy in the room, and stray grains of sand tickle your skin underneath the sheets. waves wash gently on the shore outside, and an ocean breeze mixes with the smell of burnt cinnamon. you can hear annabeth, grover, and percy crashing dishes and bickering and causing chaos in the kitchen as, you imagine, they scramble to surprise you with breakfast. 

luke is next to you, on his stomach. his curls are a mess, covering most of his face. 

evidence from last night: scratches from your nails prominent on his back, his neck decorated with purple bruises in the shape of your lips. you shift slightly and feel a dull ache between your legs, so you'd call it even.

outside, something clatters on the floor, and you hear percy swear.

luke's eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, and he starts to move. "we should get up before they burn down the place." 

you press your hand to luke's shoulder blade, barely, but in his half-asleep state, it's enough to keep him in bed. luke moves to his side, facing you. you bring your hand up to brush curls away from luke's eyes, even if they're still closed.

"they've literally been to hell and back," you recall his sarcastic words from last night. "i think they can handle pancakes." 

the corners of luke's mouth curl upwards. 

"you're such a smart ass," he mumbles.

you lean forward, plant a kiss underneath luke's chin. his stubble scratches against your lips. 

"don't pretend you don't love it, tiger."

luke breathes steadily. you think he might've fallen asleep once more until he presses his lips to your forehead, pulls you towards him, and quips:

"i love you."

your heart quickens as you echo his words. something churns in your stomach, too.

because this peace isn't something that feels permanent.

you're the children of gods, and there's always a catch. some inevitable plot twist where lovers end up separated, where heroes end up dead or cursed. 

it's nauseating — dangerous, even — that you want a happy ending, a desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut. it's cruel that the fates keep twisting, taunting you with what can never be.

no monsters; no gods or titans; no prophecies.

just this.

[bodhrancomedy]

8 Games Which Made Me Bawl My Fucking Eyes Out (in the best way)

1. A Story Beside

Holy hell, I think the fact I played this one when I was isolating with COVID and terrified my breathing issues were gonna be permanent probably added to my complete sobbing breakdown at the end of this.

Every single chapter is a beautiful gut punch and the ending sequence where you guide Lyric back through her story? Heartbreaking.

2. I Was a Teenage Exocolonist

This is probably one of my favourite games of all time and certainly one I’ve sunk the most hours into.

The fact that your first run-through is almost guaranteed to be full of failure and missed chances just adds to the pain I felt.

But the bug in the nursery. That’s what got me.

3. What Remains of Edith Finch

I’m not sure there’s anything I can say about this game which hasn’t been said already.

Each new room puts another knife in your heart as you pull apart the seams of the Finch family curse with Edith as the last survivor.

Gregory was the moment I had to take a break to compose myself.

4. Story of Seasons: A Wonderful Life

While I think this remake took some of the teeth out of the original, this farm sim which spans the life of your character is full of heartbreaking moments as you raise your child.

Honestly, being allowed to be queer and nonbinary in this game made me bawl because I remember wishing to both be a boy and love men in the older games.

5. Dragon Quest IV

I could add several of the Dragon Quest games to this list, but after fighting the final boss for nearly two decades, beating this game had me sobbing for hours.

That last scene of Chapter Five had such a tiny little animation of our hero taking off his sword and that send me over the edge.

6. Bramble: The Mountain King

I don't know where to start with this dark folktale of a game. From tragic monsters to absolute gut punches following great unsettling scares, this journey to save your sister as a scared child ripped my heart in two.

The hell Olle goes through for his protective sister is dear to my heart as a nervous little brother myself.

7. Citizen Sleeper

The very concept of this RPG is haunting. A construct on the run from the corporation who took your body is sad enough, but the express love of humanity which runs through this? Beautiful.

I'm not very far through and it's already had me in tears twice.

8. Outer Wilds

I don't think I can say a single thing about this game without completely spoiling it.

Go in blind, but be ready for heavy and sorrowful themes. All I'll say is when you hear the ending theme, have tissues ready.

[endangeredrandomfanfics]

"A Song to Gather Witches"

Taglist- @skittlebum @circe143 @quailbagutte

Masterlist

Summary: You've got your powers Agatha found a way to make them useful for your cons scamming gig, this time you've witnessed her do it draining witches seeing her purple -Chapter IV

===============================

The saloon was dimly lit, filled with the smell of smoke and aged wood, the murmur of voices and clinking glasses creating a lively atmosphere. Amidst the crowd, the young reader sat on a small stage, their fingers hovering over a dusty piano as they glanced around, gauging the room. They could feel the quiet hum of their mother’s magic, woven into the air like a whisper, guiding them toward their purpose tonight.

Just before leaving that morning, Agatha had leaned in, her eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of mischief. “Remember, my love,” she’d murmured, brushing a stray hair from their forehead. “Tonight, we need the song to travel—so that the right ears might hear it.”

And so, here they were, under the warm glow of candlelight, ready to sing the melody they’d written together: Witches’ Road. They knew the song by heart, every note and word crafted to call out, inviting magic-seekers toward its ancient lure. The piano keys felt cool beneath their fingers as they began to play, the haunting melody weaving through the saloon.

As their voice joined the music, soft and sure, conversations began to quiet. Heads turned, listening as the words drifted through the room.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood

Where all that's wrong is right and all that's bad is good

Through many miles of tricks and trials, we wander high and low

Tame your fears, a door appears, the time has come to go…"

Their voice was filled with a subtle magic, a lure that pulled at hearts and minds, drawing listeners into the mystery of the song. Eyes watched them with fascination, some captivated, others with an uneasy curiosity. As the song reached its chorus, a few women near the back exchanged glances, leaning in closer, their interest piqued.

"Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Follow me, my friend

To glory and the end…"

When the final note lingered, fading into the air, there was a soft hush in the room, broken only by scattered murmurs. The women from the back made their way forward, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

One of them, a tall woman with silver-streaked hair, gave the reader a long, assessing look. “That’s a peculiar tune for someone so young,” she said, her voice low but warm. “Where’d you learn a song like that?”

The reader met her gaze with innocent wonder, tilting their head as if the question surprised them. “It’s… something I came up with myself,” they said, keeping their tone light, humble, even a bit shy. “I’ve always been drawn to magic, to the mysteries and stories of witches. But it’s hard to learn when no one is willing to teach.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and the others exchanged whispers. “You’re… self-taught?” another asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

They nodded. “But it’s not enough. I’ve been looking for someone who could show me the true path—a real mentor.” The reader’s voice took on a slight note of longing, one that Agatha had coached them to use, and they cast their gaze down, as though a little shy showing a subtle colored little spark from her hands.

The silver-haired woman’s expression softened as she looked at the reader, her curiosity turning to something else—a hint of sympathy, perhaps. She glanced at her companions before giving a slight nod. “Come with us,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “If you’re serious about seeking the path, I believe we may be able to help.”

The reader smiled, a small, grateful smile, and slid down from the piano bench. They followed the woman and her companions out of the saloon and into the quiet night, their pulse quickening as they thought of Agatha, waiting in the forest.

As they walked, the reader could feel the air changing, a faint vibration in the earth beneath their feet. Magic was gathering, old and powerful, drawn by the song and by the reader’s carefully spoken words. They kept their face calm, nodding along as the women spoke in low voices about the “Witches’ Road” and its history, speculating about how such a young soul could know a song like that.

After a while, they reached a clearing, surrounded by tall trees whose branches stretched up toward the star-filled sky. The witches turned to face the reader, their expressions serious.

“We don’t usually take to strangers, especially ones as young as you,” the silver-haired woman said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “But something about you is… different. There’s a power in you that feels older than your years.”

The reader met her gaze, giving a small, earnest nod. “Thank you for trusting me. I promise, I’m ready to learn.”

Just as the woman was about to reply, a soft rustling sounded from the shadows, and the air grew thick with tension. One by one, the women turned, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The shadows deepened, twisting and stretching as if alive, and from the darkness, Agatha emerged, her silhouette outlined against the moonlight, her eyes gleaming with a fierce intelligence.

The witches took a step back, their expressions shifting from curiosity to alarm.

“You’re… you’re her mother?” one of them whispered, looking at Agatha with dawning recognition.

Agatha smiled, a calm, knowing smile, and nodded. “Indeed. And you were kind enough to keep my little one company tonight.” Her voice was smooth, filled with a dark charm that held them in place, even as they sensed the danger.

The silver-haired woman’s expression hardened, realizing the trap too late. “This was a setup,” she hissed, her voice low with anger.

Agatha tilted her head, her gaze unyielding. “I never said it wasn’t.”

Without another word, she raised her hand, and a dark mist coiled around her fingers, crackling with a subtle, sinister power. The witches tried to resist, casting protective spells and trying to break free, but Agatha’s magic was stronger—each spell they cast was met with a swift, effortless counter. She moved gracefully, almost as though she were dancing, drawing power from them, siphoning their magic as they struggled.

The reader watched, both awed and unnerved. They knew what their mother was capable of, but witnessing her in action, surrounded by these powerful witches who had no chance against her, was something different entirely.

As the last of the coven fell to the ground, drained and silent, Agatha turned to them, her eyes softening as she approached. She brushed a strand of hair from their face, her expression filled with warmth and pride.

“You did perfectly, my love,” she murmured, her voice a gentle contrast to the fierce power they had just witnessed. “Just as I knew you would.”

They looked up at her, a small, relieved smile breaking through. “It worked,” they whispered, the weight of the night’s events settling over them. “They really believed I needed their help.”

Agatha smiled, pride shining in her eyes. “That’s because you have the heart of a true witch—clever, resourceful, and far stronger than most would ever guess. You’re learning fast.”

But even as her words brought comfort, a pang of guilt stirred in the reader’s heart. “Mama… I didn’t know it would feel like this.” They looked at the fallen witches, an uncertain shadow crossing their face. “What if they… what if they didn’t deserve it?”

Agatha knelt down, her expression softening as she took their hands in hers. “Listen to me, my love. Those who would harm us, or stand in the way of what we need, they give us no choice. This is the path we walk, and it’s a path not everyone can understand.”

The reader nodded, letting her words sink in, though the weight still lingered.

Seeing their unease, Agatha cupped their cheek, a tender smile playing on her lips. “You have a compassionate heart, my dear one, and that is a gift. But there are times we must be strong and unyielding to protect what’s ours.” She stroked their cheek. “Trust in your strength, and trust that you were right to call them to us. You did nothing wrong.”

With Agatha’s reassurances, the reader felt a calm settle over them, a reminder of their purpose and the bond they shared with her. They walked together back through the forest, the night quiet around them, the stars gleaming overhead. As they walked, Agatha began to hum the familiar melody, and the reader joined her, their voices mingling softly as they sang together.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood..."

Their voices blended, filling the night air with the haunting, beautiful song, a mother and child bound by love, secrets, and a strength that would see them through any trial ahead.

===============================

A/n: Comment?,👀😩🖐🏻, I'm bored and lacking motivation for this

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

IV ║ Notch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part III: Edgestitch | Behind the Seams: Part IV | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, but not that explicit

Summary: While Ellie works her first shift at the Outfitters, Joel drops by yours to return the blouse you left behind at the baby shower. Turns out, there's plenty around the house to keep him occupied until the teenager clocks off.

Warnings: Sexual tension, body insecurity, some language, inaccurate descriptions of gardening, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, undervest supremacy, flirting, dry humping, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.9k

Notes: Once I started writing this chapter in earnest, it came together a bit more quickly than I expected! It's extremely self-indulgent, with plenty of white undervest and belly action because you guys deserve all of that goodness for being the most patient, loving readers a writer could hope for 🥹 Thank you, I love you all! ❤️

Notch – diamond shaped marks that stick out beyond the edge of the pattern to line up all the pieces when sewing the garment. They come in pairs to be matched up.

Joel is sleeping - which is not something that could be said until a couple of months ago.

After the outbreak, sleep as a concept ceased to exist. What took its place is literal ‘shuteye’, either engineered by pills knocked back with moonshine, or a preventative shutdown by his body to avoid total failure, having pushed his physical form to the living limit.

It’s the kind of sleep that is destitute and provides no relief. It keeps the cogs turning just enough that he doesn’t expire, standing in his boots - which, on most days, are not the only things held together by duct tape.

But after the hospital, even that turned out to be too much to ask for. Some nights, the itch for chemical-induced relief got so bad that Joel entertained the thought of asking Tommy for illicit pills, ready to crawl on all fours to his brother’s house two streets down because he was shaking so hard he couldn’t lock his knees. But he didn’t trust him not to tell Maria, and with Ellie in the picture, he wasn’t about to tempt fate.

So instead, he asked Maria to assign him to night patrols. She hmmm’d at his request like she knew something he didn’t, but she humoured him, letting him take the graveyard shift for a couple of weeks straight. She didn’t have to tell him that she could see the way he tripped over his own feet and hear the slur in his voice. She’s too sharp not to notice.

But she didn’t say anything.

What she did do though, was not so subtly wean him off the late-night patrols. It started with a couple of random, last-minute changes, and then the next thing he knew, he was working morning shifts exclusively. When he tried covertly swapping stints with another guy, he showed up at the guard tower at midnight to find his sister-in-law standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her pregnant belly. 

As he trudged home begrudgingly with his head down and her stern reprimand in his ears, he couldn’t help a chuckle. Gotta hand it to her. 

Banished back to his bed, Joel went back to staring owlishly at the ceiling, watching the moonlight slide across the plaster until he knew all the cracks in it with his eyes closed (metaphorically). He’d listen to Ellie snoring away two doors down and marvel at the fact that she somehow still slept like the dead, even after… all that.

And then, one night, it happened for him too.

Admittedly, he ate a bit too much at Tommy and Maria’s - on top of running the town like a well-oiled machine, she makes a mean chicken fried steak - and Ellie had not so subtly plonked a second helping on his plate without asking. He was lying in bed, steeling himself for another long night, when his eyes drooped. The motion was so alien that it jolted him wide awake, but he couldn’t shake the weight that clung to the seams of his lashes. The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning.

Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks. 

It’s nowhere near consistent, and more often than not he wakes up in a cold sweat in the small hours, but in between, he’s sleeping. For once, he’s feeling rested. And it’s a nice fucking break from the relentless exhaustion that he’s convinced is fused into his bones.

He always wakes up earlier than Ellie though. She never stomps down the stairs until he’s already had breakfast, and hers has gone cold.

So on the Saturday morning following the baby shower, with his face plastered into the mattress, body curled around a pillow - old habits die hard - Joel nearly falls out of bed at the banging on his door.

‘Joel! Get the fuck up!’

For one disconcerting moment between sleep and wake, he’s in his bedroom back in Texas. He half expects to look up to see the posters on the wall and the perpetually overflowing laundry basket at the foot of his bed.

Blinking through the urge to close his eyes, the colours fade and he stares blearily at the digital clock on his bedside table. 

7:30.

What the fuck? More often than not he has to drag the teenager out of bed by the ankles, kicking and swearing, at 7:50 to get to school at 8:00.

His knees groan as he staggers onto his feet, grabbing yesterday’s jeans from the floor and pulling them on. He finds a passably clean shirt about five deep on a chair, which he shrugs on over his white undervest. With a grunt, he yanks open the door and heads downstairs on bare feet, frowning at unfamiliar sounds coming from the kitchen.

Joel pauses in the doorway, hands on hips. ‘What do you think you’re doin’?’

Deeming his question unworthy of a response, Ellie tosses him a roll of her eyes over her shoulder and resolutely ignores him.

Shuffling closer, he asks, ‘Are you - cookin’?’

Brandishing the spatula at him, she snarls, ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

He goads her with a smirk. ‘To be honest, it looks like you threw up in the pan.’

Ellie elbows him hard in the stomach. ‘Fuck you, man!’

He grins. There’s nothing like winding her up first thing in the morning. Grabbing the pan, he bins the ruined eggs, scraping off the burnt bits stuck to the bottom. ‘Crack some more eggs, I’ll make ‘em.’

Ten minutes later, in their usual seats at the kitchen table, they tuck into scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

‘Slow down,’ warns Joel as Ellie wolfs down hers. ‘You’re gonna choke.’

‘You hurry up! Can’t be late for my first day,’ she garbles through a mouthful of food.

‘Why can’t you be like this about school?’ he grumbles, then he winces as his teeth catch something crunchy. Picking it out, he gives her a pointed look. ‘Eggshell.’

‘Calcium,’ she shoots back without even looking up, too busy shoving the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, stuffing her cheeks like a chipmunk.

That one word stops Joel in his tracks and hurls him twenty years back in time.

But then Ellie is jumping up and practically throwing her empty plate into the sink, sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as she dashes out of the kitchen. ‘C’mon, old man!’

Joel smiles, the memory warm like sun on his face. 

He shakes his head, slowly finishing his breakfast - like he wishes he did that day.

They turn out to be fifteen minutes early. 

To his chagrin, Ellie admits freely that she lied about the time so they wouldn’t be late. He’s a punctual guy, thank you very much. He certainly doesn’t need to be schooled by the little brat. 

Joel sits on the stairs, while Ellie has her face squished up against the door, unabashedly leaving smudges on the glass panels as she keeps up an uninterrupted running commentary on every last piece of clothing she can see.

He tunes her out easily, shifting in his seat so that his right ear is to the door. In his hands is the blouse that you left behind at Tommy and Maria’s at the baby shower. He’s been meaning to return it to you, but the week got away from him, and there’s no time like the present.

Considering the state of his knees, he impresses himself with the speed at which he stands at the sound of footsteps on the otherwise quiet main street. Squaring his shoulders, he discreetly pulls on his shirt, suddenly seeing wrinkles everywhere in the fabric, and runs his fingers through his hair, wishing he’d taken another look in the mirror before he left the house -

But it’s Lucy who appears at the bottom of the stairs with her unfailingly sunny smile.

‘Hi, you must be Ellie,’ she chirps.

She eyes Lucy cautiously, lips pinched to one side. ‘Where’s Pin?’

Joel growls. ‘Manners.’

Ellie puts her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry. I meant - nice to meet you, where’s Pin?’

Lucy beams good-naturedly and fiddles with the lock. ‘She’s off today, and it’s all my fault because I made her work three weekends in a row. You’ll be helping me in the front anyway, so I’ll show you the ropes.’ Stepping aside and swinging the door open, she prompts, ‘In you go now, hon.’

Ellie doesn’t even look back at him, rushing into the shop like a thoroughbred fresh out of the starting gates.

Pocketing the keys, Lucy smiles. ‘Hi Joel.’

‘Hey,’ he nods back. ‘Sorry about Ellie.’

‘Don’t be, I was exactly like her when I was younger. Still am sometimes,’ she jokes. Then with a sly side eye, she remarks, ‘And honestly, you look more disappointed that I showed up than she does.’

He splutters, ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’ 

She smirks knowingly, gesturing at the blouse clutched tightly in his left fist. ‘I can pass that to Pin for ya.’

Joel hesitates for just a second, and Lucy bursts into laughter, elbowing him teasingly. ‘The way your face fell! I’m joking, Miller. Relax.’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s fine, guess I’ll give it to her next time she’s ‘round.’

Just then, from the depths of the shop, Ellie gasps dramatically and yells at the top of her lungs, ‘I want thissssssss one!’ 

Meeting Lucy’s eyes, Joel asks, ‘Sure you gonna be ok left alone with her?’

She shrugs. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

He flashes her a thumbs up. ‘I’ll pick her up at three then.’

He’s about to walk away from the Outfitters when Lucy’s voice stops him. ‘Hey, Joel!’

Looking up at the wraparound porch, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

‘She lives in the yellow cottage on the same street as the shoe shop. Keep going north, you can’t miss it,’ she says with a two-finger salute and a parting line that he’s heard before. ‘Say hi to Pin for me!’

You’ve always had a soft spot for the turn of the season, when late spring blooms graciously give way to summer buds. The grass smells greener, and the air is pregnant with pollen and nectar. It’s not overly warm yet, but you can feel the intensity in the sunlight, muted only by the early hour. Good thing you’re starting early.

It’s unseasonably warm for June, and the vegetable patch on the far end of your garden has suddenly burst into life. The cauliflower has finally come through after two failed crops in a row, and both the tomato vines and pepper plants are thriving. Closer to the ground, the onion and garlic shoots are patiently waiting to be pulled, and asparagus shoots spear through the earth in tidy lines one after another.

Pulling on a hat and gloves, you get to work.

You’re halfway through the second row of onions when there’s a faint knock on the front door. Even though you’ve only been in the sun for a little while, the coolness inside the house feels like a balm to your skin as you pad inside, peeling off your gloves before reaching for the door. 

Swinging it open, you’re stumped by the sight of Joel Miller on your doorstep.

You haven’t seen him since the party, where you’d agreed on a start date and time for Ellie’s first shift, and -

Since the kiss. 

You’ve felt his absence keenly. You’ve caught yourself loitering on street corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, knowing you’ll be able to spot him just by the way his shoulders swing with his long strides. You’ve kept an ear out for the southern lilt that has chased goosebumps across your skin, or any mention of his name, but all in vain.

Jackson has a habit of growing in size, usually in direct proportion to one’s desperation.

Now that he’s somehow here, you’re aware you’re gaping at him, so broad that his shoulders are blocking out the daylight. Too many years out of practice to count, you have no idea what the protocol is when you next see the man who literally made your knees buckle with just his lips and nothing else.

‘Mornin’, he finally says with a small smile. 

You stammer. ‘H-hello. What, um, I mean, how -’

‘I dropped off Ellie at the shop and Lucy told me where you live,’ he explains, shaking out the blouse in his hands. ‘Thought I’d come ‘round and return this.’

Your palm twitches with the urge to smack yourself on the forehead. Of course that’s why he’s here. 

Taking the top from him, you smile back gratefully. ‘Thank you. And of course, it’s Ellie’s first day. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but I’ve been subbing for Lucy on the weekends for a month straight and I needed a break.’

He waves away your apology. ‘Count yourself lucky. She was just ‘bout bouncin’ off the walls.’

‘Bless her heart,’ you chuckle, breaking off when his eyes flicker over you, as if he’s just registered your very minimalist ensemble of a white cotton tank top and denim cut-offs. Your skin prickles under his scrutiny, flattery winning out against self-consciousness at the deliberate drag of his gaze over you, a thoughtful weight behind it. 

That is until something catches his attention, and you flinch when he peers under the brim of your hat. ‘What -’

Before you can even articulate your question, he’s taken one step towards you, his work boots heavy on your creaky wooden porch. His voice is low but rough around the edges, just the way you like it. 

‘You got some dirt -’ he swipes his index finger firmly on the end of your nose. ‘Right here.’

Your jaw hangs open, then clamps shut, in quick succession, the shell of your ears burning hot at his fleeting touch. Throat suddenly dry, you barely manage to squeak, ‘Thanks.’ 

One day, you will at least try and keep your cool around this man. But alas, it is not this day.

Rearranging himself, Joel leans on the doorframe with his arms crossed and remarks conversationally, ‘You look outdoorsy this mornin’.’

Flashing the soil-stained gloves at him, you try to keep your voice steady. ‘I’m just doing some gardening out back. The vegetable patch needs harvesting.’

He purses his lips at that. ‘Didn’t peg you as the gardenin’ type.’

You don’t know where the bravado comes from, but you swat him on the arm with the gloves and quip, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

‘You got me there,’ he huffs a laugh and gestures towards the back of the house. ‘Anythin’ I can do to help?’

The refusal is on the tip of your tongue. You don’t say yes to a whole lot nowadays, other than when Lucy makes you. But then you hear yourself ask, a challenge in your voice that you didn’t know you had. ‘I don’t know. Are you any good with your hands, Joel Miller?’

At the boldness in your words, which you don’t take back, Joel’s eyebrows reach for his hairline. Biting your lip but standing your ground, you watch him grind his jaw as he considers his response. 

‘Why don’t you try me, sweetheart?’

‘Like this?’

‘Wait - slow down.’

A shuffle of hands. ‘How about now?’

‘That’s it. Yes, that’s good. Keep going.’

A raspy grunt. ‘I think I’m almost there.’

‘Yeah, that’s right, don’t stop -’

‘Alright, you ready?’

‘Come on, Joel -’

With one last flick, the knife slices clean through the base of the stalk, and Joel plucks the cauliflower head out of its leafy cradle with a triumphant grin.

‘How’s that for good hands, huh?’ he crows. 

‘I’ll get back to you in the fall when we see if the cauliflower grows back,’ you tease. 

He huffs, squinting up at you through the sun. ‘You’re hard to please, sweetheart.’

You preen at the playful turn of the conversation. If you were a little braver, you’d give him a mischievous wink - but for now, you gesture at the patch. ‘Can you handle the rest? I’ll get started on the peppers.’

He nods. ‘Leave ‘em with me.’

The pepper plants are having a great season, standing at four feet tall and heaving with fruits. You’ve left them alone on the vine for the last three weeks to sweeten, and they have dutifully ripened into a beautiful red. Settling onto your knees, you methodologically comb through the peppers from top to bottom, cutting off each one by the stalks.

It’s a big harvest, half of which you plan on giving away to your neighbours in exchange for their berries and lemons. Some you will cook. Lucy is due to come over for dinner, and she loves your stuffed pepper recipe. The rest you’ll have to find time to roast, skin, deseed and preserve in oil, which will last the rest of the year -

A shadow falls over you, stilling your hands and drawing your eyes upwards.

The sight is familiar - feet planted shoulder-wide by your knees, chin tucked in as he stares down at you, your nose level with the front of the jeans that you picked out for him - you’ve seen it all before, except for one small detail.

Joel is sweating. A lot.

His thin plaid shirt - you’re not sure if you’ve seen him in anything else yet - is sticking to him like a second skin, clinging to the solid outline of his biceps as he holds onto the basket full of cauliflower heads. The sunlight glances off the perspiration dotting his hairline, and the wispy grays that normally curl away from his face have wilted in the humidity. 

There’s a flush under his skin as he swipes at his forehead with his shirt sleeve, and your gaze follows a bead of sweat dripping down the prominent vein on the side of his neck, and into the deep V of his shirt - wait, is that the outline of an undervest that you can just make out underneath -

‘Should I take the cauliflower in?’

‘Um -’ you stammer to a halt, eyes still plastered to the front of his chest, just like his shirt.

He clearly mistakes your gawking for something else, flashing you an apologetic smile at his state. ‘Sorry, I work up a sweat real easy.’

Oh, come on. Now all you’re thinking about is how else he works up a sweat -

Seized by the sudden need to get out of the heat in more than one sense of the word, you rip the basket from his grasp and turn on your heels to sprint into the house with a choked, ‘I’ll be right back!’

You nearly trip over your own feet running into the kitchen, your heart thumping so loudly in its ribcage it feels like the whole house is shaking to the beat. 

And all that man has done is sweat in front of you.

‘Pull yourself together, Pin,’ you mutter to yourself as you tip the cauliflower heads onto the kitchen table. Grabbing a jug from the cupboard, you put it in the sink and turn on the faucet. Watching the trickle of water, you make yourself take three deep breaths. 

Joel’s kind enough to do you a favour, you could at least have the courtesy to not perv on him while he helps you out.

Nodding determinedly to yourself, you pluck two glasses from the drying rack, putting them inside the empty basket that you hook on your elbow, and march back outside -

Only to almost swallow your tongue and drop the full jug of water right at your feet.

Joel’s sweat-soaked shirt is now hanging on your washing line like a white flag, having surrendered to the heat. And just like that, the very image that has been inconveniently seared into the back of your eyes since the party is suddenly before you in all its glory, in the morning sun, out in the open air.

The white undervest stretches over the breadth of him, and if he didn’t look so good in it, you would’ve laughed at the comical way the flimsy straps are clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. Then he bends over to inspect the tomato vines, the bottom of his vest riding up with the movement, teasing a flash of skin above the waistline of the jeans pulled tight over his behind. One big hand reaches out, the outline of his arm flexing as he does, and he palms the bottom of one tomato, testing if it’s ripe for the picking. 

Except in your head, it’s something else he’s cupping with such rapturous attention. 

He doesn’t notice you until he stands up with a low grunt of effort. Pointing an apologetic finger at his shirt, he says, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I’m sweatin’ right through it like nobody’s business.’

You make a noise in your throat that you pass off as an answer, and with shaky hands, pour him a full glass of water which you shove in his direction.

‘Appreciate it, sweetheart.’ He salutes you and takes a long drag, tipping his head back. You watch, transfixed, as the sunlight bounces off the lines of sweat criss-crossing down the strong column of his neck, and the hard bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

Suddenly, you’re parched. But you don’t trust yourself to stay upright, let alone pour yourself a drink.

‘It’s hot today,’ Joel breaks the loaded silence, though it’s possible that it’s unilaterally so on your side.

‘Uh-huh,’ you croak, still holding onto the water jug like a shield.

He peers at you with a touch of mischief. ‘You ain’t gonna swoon or anythin’ are you?’

Probably. And definitely not for the reason he has in mind. 

You attempt a weak smile that may have come off as a grimace. ‘I’ll try not to.’

Reassured, he nods towards the garlic patch. ‘C’mon. Let’s get our hands dirty, sweetheart.’

By the time the vegetable patch has been thoroughly picked and the baskets crammed full, the sun is high in the sky, the morning clouds burned off with the heat.

Joel isn’t the only one who’s sweating through his clothes - your light cotton top is now clinging uncomfortably to your skin, sweat dripping down your sternum and dampening the cups of your bra. You heave a sigh of relief when he helps you move the haul to a shaded corner near the porch where you have an outdoor sink and wheel hose installed.

Emptying the root vegetables into the sink, Joel steps back and casts a critical eye over the rain gutters that line the eaves of your house. Fingers spread over one jutting hip, he leans his weight on his right leg, the stance creating all kinds of angles that are completely unnecessary in this kind of heat.

He points at the leaves and branches that are clearly sticking out from the channels, but you’re only really interested in studying his large hands. The bumps and veins on the back of them, the watch with the broken face on his left wrist, the dirt coating his thick fingers, pushed under tidily trimmed nails. The logical thought that follows is how he would leave dark streaks on your white top when he pulls you in by the waist - 

‘Looks like the gutters need cleanin’,’ Joel declares. 

Well, the gutter your head is currently dunked in can certainly do with a good scrub.

‘Rainy season doesn’t start for another few months, they can wait.’

He uh-uh's sternly. ‘I’ve heard that before. Do you have a ladder?’

‘You really don’t have to -’ you protest, but he won’t hear it.

‘It’s no big deal, I’m sweaty anyway,’ he replies. ‘Besides, you’ll be doing me a favour keepin’ me occupied. I don’t pick Ellie up till three.’

You bite your lip. ‘But I feel bad working you so hard.’

Without skipping a beat, he winks. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart - I like workin’ for it.’

Jesus Christ. This man needs to be locked up and the key thrown to a colony of clickers.

The inner contractor in Joel comes out to play as he climbs deftly up the extension ladder propped up against the eaves, gloves on and a tarp bag tied to the top rung for collecting the debris. Discreetly, you shuffle around the freestanding sink so that you have a clear view of him as you turn on the water and start washing the dirt off the onions.

He’s starting close by, just a couple of feet away from you, patiently scooping out the dead leaves and twigs by the handful. Up on the ladder with his side to you, you’re eye level with the swell of his belly, which stretches the seams of the vest, and the underside of it peeks out every time he reaches up for the gutters. Your cheeks warm with the memory of how the soft folds felt against you, so warm and solid that you ache to reach out, push the flimsy vest up and nuzzle the tender skin with your nose -

It takes you a couple of minutes to realise that you’re not even pretending to be washing the onions anymore, the hose running in your idle grasp as you stare, head cocked to one side.

You don’t hear him when he turns to you. ‘Can pass me the hose?’

You stare dumbly back at him. ‘Huh?’

‘The hose, Pin,’ he repeats, a playful condescension in his smirk, like he knows exactly what you’ve been looking at. ‘That onion looks sparkly clean.’

You’re not sure what happened. One second you’re holding onto the hose with the intention of turning off the water before passing it to Joel, but your brain skips that crucial first step, and the next thing you know, you’re pointing it straight at him, spraying him in water from face to chest.

As he splutters, you shove the hose into the sink and screech, mortified. ‘Oh my god! I’m so sorry!’

You watch in horror as the water trickles from his hair, down his stubbled chin and onto his chest - okay, that’s a lie. It’s definitely not horror that’s twisting in your tummy and then much, much lower between your thighs.

And if you thought this man looked good sweaty, well - you’ve seen nothing yet.

He might as well put you out of your misery and take off his undervest right about now. It’s completely see-through, pebbled nipples and the firm ridges of his pecs showing through the wet fabric, rounded out by the endearing soft pouch of his belly. 

He wears the early summer tan so well, and for the first time since the outbreak, you think about the swim club in your old neighbourhood. Watching the water drip off his skin, it’s not a stretch to imagine this man pulling himself out of the pool after a quick dip to cool down, before stretching out on a sunlounger to dry in the sun - all in slow motion, set to the track of a corny sax riff.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say on reflex, but the apology rings hollow with the way your gaze lingers over his chest, and he notices.

He chuckles, carding one hand through his wet hair to slick it back, standing taller under your eyes. ‘As I said - never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’ 

Joel takes his time, clearing out all the blockages and hosing the gutters clean so that you don’t have to worry about them for another six months. He dumps the leaves and sticks in the compost post, rinses the soiled gloves and his hands clean, before taking his shirt off the washing line and heading into the blessed shade.

He finds you in the kitchen, back to the door, putting away clean plates and cutlery from the drying rack, porcelain knocking together and metal clanging.

This is the most he’s seen of you, in a tank top and shorts, bathed in light spilling in from the large windows that open out into the backyard. He sees touches of your workshop right here in the kitchen - dried herbs and seasoning in mismatched but tidy boxes on the shelves, knives organised by size on a magnetic knife block, plates and bowls arranged in neat stacks behind glass cabinets.

Not wanting to alarm you, he deliberately scrapes his shoe on the tiled floor to make his presence known.

Whipping around - and just a touch startled - you smile with a quiet hey, and Joel’s not sure if he’ll ever get over how the sweet shyness still clings to the curve of your lips despite the fact that he’s kissed you right there.

He stays by the door for now and says, ‘I put the ladder back, and the gutters are all done, but I spotted some shingles missing on the roof while I was up there. I’ll come back to fix ‘em some other time.’

‘Thank you so much Joel, but really, don’t worry about the roof. You’ve done enough.’

‘You basically got Ellie outta my hair every Saturday for the next few months, so I’ll have plenty of time to kill,’ he half-jokes.

A comfortable lull sets in, and he looks up at the ticking clock, surprised that it’s almost noon. Shifting his feet, he opens his mouth and is about to excuse himself when you blurt out, ‘I’m sorry I soaked you.’

The jury's out on who's more taken aback by your phrasing. Exasperated, you groan, ‘I did not mean to say that.’

Joel’s kept a respectful distance since he arrived at the house, the pliant weight of you in his arms and your taste on his tongue kept firmly at bay in the back of his mind, not wanting to bring up anything that would make you uncomfortable in the light of day. But now, he pushes himself off the threshold of the door and crosses the cosy kitchen, pleased that you stay put when he plants himself in front of you, toe to toe.

Brushing a finger under your chin so that you’re staring up at him, he deliberately pitches his voice low and gruff, the double entendre almost crude in its delivery. ‘Just so we’re clear, you can soak me any time, sweetheart, in any way you want.’

Your lips part and your gaze darkens, and he feels his body instinctively react, invisible threads reeling him bodily into you. When you speak, your voice quivers, his name at once a single-worded reprimand and a needy whine that takes him right back to his brother’s spare bedroom. ‘Joel -’

‘Yes, Pin?’ he baits you playfully, just like he did that night, taking one last step so that you’re crowded against the countertop, bookending you with his palms planted on the wooden surface.

Finally shedding that last bit of shyness holding you back, you retort with no real bite, ‘You’re such a tease, Miller.’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,’ he quips easily, his attention on your mouth. He hears your shaky intake of air, the whole moment suspended on tenterhooks as you skirt each other on the brink -

Just then, a breeze drifts in from the open window above the sink, providing instant relief from the humidity that hangs heavy in the air. All of a sudden, he’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s sweaty all over, so much so that he might actually smell. 

Self-conscious, he clears his throat and murmurs ‘I should probably go, I need a shower and a change of clothes -’

‘You can shower here,’ you interrupt, stumbling over your words in your haste. ‘I have a spare shirt somewhere.’

You don’t need to ask him twice. 

He smiles. ‘Sounds good, sweetheart.’

Your ensuite bathroom, like what he has seen of your house, is clean and organised. There’s a neat stockpile of soap bars in the cupboard, and he spots the familiar bottles of regulation shampoo and toothpaste that the town mass produces.

The water is plenty hot as he efficiently lathers himself top to bottom and front to back, but the pressure is a bit weak for his liking and can be easily fixed. Something else to add to the list.

The towel you left on the rack is soft and smells like the sun. Patting himself dry and rubbing it through his hair, he wipes away the condensation off the mirror above the sink. He peers at his reflection, ruminating that it’s time for a shave, and pushes back his wet hair so the strands don’t get in his eyes.

Out of his clothes, only his jeans are passably dry, so he forgoes his boxers and pulls them on, carefully doing up the zipper. Using his shirt as a sling, he bundles up all the dirty clothes and opens the bathroom door.

He catches you coming into the bedroom as he steps out, and your jaw drops at the sight of him in just his jeans before you slap your palms dramatically over your eyes, the tshirt you’re holding onto covering your whole face and muffling your voice. ‘I’m so sorry! I should’ve knocked!’

Joel chuckles at your reaction. ‘Sweetheart, it's your house. And I’m not exactly naked.’

Lowering your hands sheepishly, you still clutch the tshirt to your chest like a security blanket, admitting, ‘Sorry, I just - I just realised I’ve never had a man in here before.’

Something wraps itself around his stomach and pulls, and it takes him a beat to put a name to it because it’s been so long. It’s possessiveness that rushes through his veins and goes straight to his head, and he has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep his voice from wavering. He demands, ‘Never?’

‘Never.’

He lets the word wash over him, appeasing the beast in him for now. With a slow nod, he takes three measured steps towards you, stopping just an arm’s length away. Gently coaxing you to let go of the purple tshirt, he snorts at the huge Lakers logo blazoned across the front. 

He quips, ‘I’m more of a Longhorns fan myself, actually.’

The tension cracks, and you grin back, ‘Well, not anymore.’

After your confession, it’s probably redundant, but he wants to hear you say it. Flashing the tshirt at you, he asks, ‘Old boyfriend’s?’

It’s the most personal question that’s been exchanged between you so far by a mile, and it’s probably none of his business, but you can’t explain why your pulse spikes at the way his normally warm gaze hardens with something unfamiliar.

‘No,’ you answer. ‘I keep some of the stock here when there’s not enough room at the shop, that’s all.’

Joel rasps, ‘Good.’

With that one syllable, his shoulders visibly relax, suddenly drawing your attention to his topless form, which you’ve been too mortified to actually look at. It’s a lot to take in, and even though you’ve seen most of him already, there is one conspicuous part that you haven’t yet -

But before your eyes can trail that low, Joel turns. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll just -’

You’re slow to catch onto why he trails off in the middle of the sentence, still far too distracted by his general state of undress to notice until he’s already made his way to the top of your neatly made bed. And then you see it…

The flannel peeking out from underneath the duvet.

Oh. Fuck.

With an almost flippant flick of his wrist, Joel peels back the corner of the bedspread. Wordlessly, he stares down at the red plaid shirt he lent you at the baby shower, tucked snugly in your bed, buried half under your pillow. 

He stares at it for so long that you interrupt the silence for once.

‘I’ve been meaning to return it,’ you squeak, hands flailing awkwardly, desperately wanting something to hold onto. ‘I just - forgot.’

Joel half-turns to you, arching an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been keepin’ it in your bed?’

Backed into a corner - and you’re not proud of it - you lie. Outrageously. ‘I don’t know how it got in there.'

He picks up the shirt by the collar. It’s wrinkled all over and obviously worn in. He smirks, ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

You’re this close to swivelling around and making a break for it, but as soon as your axis of balance tilts backwards, Joel grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in, hauling you firmly into his bare chest.

‘You’ve been wearin’ it to sleep, haven’t you?’ he asks in a tone that brooks no argument. 

Your fingers curl into his chest, his skin blazing warm under your palms. There’s no point fibbing anymore, and you admit, ‘Yes.’

His voice is hoarse when he asks, ‘You wear anythin’ underneath it, sweetheart?’

You hold your breath for one long moment, the tension in the room swelling so quickly that your ears pop. Eventually, under his patient yet heated stare, you shake your head, lips sealed.

His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.

‘No bra?’ he prompts.

‘No bra,’ you parrot back.

His jaw clenches so tightly that you’re surprised he manages to articulate his next question. ‘No panties?’

‘No panties -’

You barely get the word out before Joel is kissing you, pushing the syllables right back into your mouth until you swallow them with a whimper.

And then he’s pulling back, growling against yours, ‘And what do you do naked in my shirt, hmm?’

You stutter, ‘I - I think about you -’

An undignified squeal escapes you when he suddenly spins you around, your back hitting the bed, denying you the chance to catch your breath. The ceiling fan turns directly above you, but it does nothing to quell the heat between your bodies as Joel clambers over you on his hands and knees, sliding his mouth over yours again in a hard kiss.

You always thought your bed was a decent size, but now, with the bulk of this man hovering over you, you’re not so sure anymore. His ridiculously wide shoulders fill your entire field of vision, and even though he’s holding himself up with his forearms by your ears, you can almost feel the full weight of him through sheer anticipation of his touch. 

His heated words brush by your ear, making you shudder. ‘Tell me what you think about, sweetheart.’

‘Your arms, your shoulders -’ you hesitate, dropping your voice shyly. ‘Your belly.’

Joel looks taken aback. ‘My belly?’

You duck your head almost guiltily. ‘Yes.’

His brows draw together in an endearingly confused frown. ‘Why?’

‘That time in the workshop, when we met, you were sucking it in so hard you could hardly breathe - but you don’t anymore.’

The dots connect, and his lips part in an oh. ‘I didn’t even realise.’

‘I know. That’s why it’s sexy,’ you point out.

He looks at you incredulously, as if you’ve lost your mind. ‘My belly is sexy?’

You grin. ‘Yes, and your confidence. You walk differently now, you know.’

He makes a noise at the back of his throat, a self-satisfied smirk tilting his lips upwards. ‘You been watchin’ me?’

‘Maybe,’ you tease.

You exhale long and heavy through your nose when he sucks delicately on your bottom lip, opening you up so that he can dip inside, stealing a taste of your tongue with his. 

‘Been thinkin’ about you all week, sweetheart,’ he whispers, trailing fire across your cheek and the hollow behind your ear. 

‘I haven’t seen you around at all,’ you whine, tipping your head back as he nudges the tip of his proud nose down your throat.

‘I know, it took three fuckin’ days to clean up after the party,’ he complains, his disgruntled tone prompting a giggle from you. ‘Never again.’

‘I’m not so sure about that. There will be plenty of birthday parties to look forward to, Uncle Joel -’

An open-mouthed kiss on the side of your neck catches you off guard, the unfamiliar texture of the wet suction and scrape of his teeth jolts you clean off the mattress, sending you body slamming into his ribcage.

Joel hums, pleased at your reaction. ‘So sensitive. I’ve barely touched you yet, sweetheart.’

It’s immediate, the shame that burns under your skin at his remark despite knowing he doesn’t mean anything by it, and Joel frowns at the way you stiffen under him. Regret colours his words as he cups your cheek. ‘Pin, I’m sorry, that came out wrong -’

‘No, that’s the thing. You’re not wrong,’ you interrupt with a shake of your head. There’s no point denying it - you’re a grown woman, and there’s something fundamentally embarrassing about losing touch with that part of yourself over the years. ‘I - it’s been so long, I don’t even know my own body anymore.’

His eyes dip downwards and slowly, over the curve of your breasts and the arch of your back. With an encouraging smile, he argues, ‘I’m not sure about that. Looks like your body’s reactin’ perfectly to me.’

Your lips twitch despite yourself. ‘You’re just saying that to get into my pants.’

He takes the unexpected turn in the conversation in stride and runs with it. ‘Trust me, sweetheart, if I were tryin’, I’d already be in them.’

‘You’re such an ass, Joel Miller.’

His roguish grin has you squirming and fisting the sheets underneath you. ‘I dunno. Somethin’ tells me you like it.’

Wrapping one palm on the back of his neck, you drag him into you again, relishing in the weight of him as he pins you to the bed with the broad frame of his shoulders. He moans into your mouth, claiming it with deep strokes of his tongue, while his calloused palms sneak under the hem of your shirt and pull you into him by the small of your back.

Even as your hips buck, begging for friction, Joel holds back, propping himself up on his knees to keep a tenuous grip on his self-control. Pulling back from your lips with a wet pop, he assures you through heavy breaths, ‘We can stop any time, sweetheart. Just say the word.’

Your response comes fast and sure, but he can read the hesitance between the lines, ‘I - I don’t want to stop.’

He presses a patient kiss to your lips, but backs away before you can deepen it. ‘How about this - we’ll flip you over so that you’re on top, and you decide what you want to do. Is that ok?’

You pause to consider his proposal, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip - he’s this close to kissing you right there and then. You ask shyly, ‘And it’s ok if we - you know, just make out?’

He smiles. ‘I can do with some good old-fashioned neckin’.’

‘Ok then -’

You yelp when Joel turns you over without warning, the sudden movement making your head spin. Sitting up against the headboard, he drags you in his lap and asks, ‘Alright?’

You nod with a nervous smile. It’s intimidating, being so close to him that there’s nowhere else to look but into his thoughtful eyes that are watching you for any signs of discomfort. Catching your breath, you settle into the moment and realise that you’re straddling him, hands clinging onto his shoulders, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His belly is warm and soft where he’s pressed up against you, but lower, nudging insistently between your legs -

Joel is hard.

The revelation robs you of air, want and need rushing like blood to your head, and you stiffen, not knowing what to do.

Joel catches on - you’re beginning to think that nothing ever escapes him - and he reminds you, ‘Just kissin’, ok, sweetheart?’

Snapping out of your freeze frame, you nod, ‘Yes. Ok.’

Giving you somewhere to start, he prompts, ‘Where do you want my hands?’

Tugging on his wrists, you watch his jaw go slack when you place his palms squarely on your ass, where your denim shorts hardly cover the top of your thighs. He lets out a lewd moan at the way your soft curves fill his hands, fingers squeezing and kneading greedily, and you push your hips back into his contact. 

‘Not so shy after all, hmm?’ he rasps.

You preen at his praise, and riding the wave of boldness, you tip forward and press your lips to Joel’s before you could overthink it. Over the roar of blood in your ears, you hear him suck in a shaky breath, and you feel the deep groan in his throat taper into a whimper when you swipe your tongue into his mouth.

You’re completely unprepared for the power the sound unleashes in you.

Somewhere in your consciousness, a door is cracked open, and memory crackles at the edges of your mind. Each shuddered breath shared, every slide of skin on skin, brings to the surface what you thought you’d forgotten. 

Your fingers burrow into the still wet locks at his nape, earning a loud moan from Joel when you pull on the grays that have distracted you on more than one occasion. He nips his way sloppily down your neck, trailing spit and beard burn as he goes, while your palms skate over his chest and down, down, down until your fingernails drag over the pliant folds of his tummy, hanging over the waistband of his jeans.

‘Sweetheart,’ he groans brokenly at the contact, forehead knocking into yours.

Spreading your fingers over soft flesh, you choke on an inhale when he bodily rocks into your palms. Your thumb catches the hollow of his belly button, fingers tenderly squeezing the creases and dimples of his belly. His eyes crack open under tightly knitted eyebrows, vulnerability etched in every line on his face.

Something shifts - something that neither of you can take back. And suddenly, it’s not just kissing anymore.

Caught somewhere between writhing instinctively under his touch and a deliberate pursuit of friction, your hips find a rhythm that has the seat of your panties quickly twisting and dampening as you grind on the erection straining against the zipper of his jeans.

Blunt nails bite into your thighs as Joel growls, ‘Shit, sweetheart. That’s it.’

You want to bury your face in his neck, feeling too wanton in the way you’re panting in needy whimpers, but he preempts that on no uncertain terms. ‘I want to see everythin’. Look at me.’

You do just that - you can’t deny this man even if you tried - watching him watch you with his pupils blown wide and wild, wetting his bottom lip the same time his eyes drop to your tits, as if he can see right through the thin fabric. He doesn’t touch you anywhere else though, his hands staying where you put them. You can feel his grip dig harder and harder into the swell of your ass, but he doesn’t try to change your rhythm, giving you free rein to ride him any way you need.

When your peripheral vision starts to go, you know it’s not a coincidence that your thoroughly soaked panties shift and strain against your clit, pinching it just so that you cry out, hips faltering.

Joel bares his teeth, and you feel his hips rut upwards into you, his restraint slipping. ‘There you go. You’re close, aren’t you?’

You can only nod, frantically grinding into him now, your whole mind narrowing until the only thought that remains is chasing that high that you can almost taste. Everything swells, electricity fills the air, his name a sacred chant on your tongue as you claw at his back, teetering precariously on the brink of something that promises to devastate you.

‘Joel, Joel, Joel -’

He catches you when you break - you fling yourself at him, knocking into him so hard that the back of his head hits the wall, but he doesn’t even flinch. Tucked safely into the crook of his neck, you whine and wail as you thrash in his hold, and his nostrils flare at your scent. He can smell you, he can smell the slick leaking from your pussy, humid and heady in the air between you, making his mouth water as he aches to taste you - all of you. 

One day.

Right now, the hinge of his jaw almost cracks as you milk the last remnants of your orgasm with a needy swivel of your hips, rubbing against his cock at an angle that makes his vision swim, and he knows he’s too far gone. His control slips like shifting sands, and a primal instinct takes over as he bucks roughly into you, fingertips leaving imprints in your skin that you will feel for days after.

‘Oh fuck, sweetheart, wait, I’m - shit, I’m gonna -’

When it hits him, it’s fucking relentless - he cums and cums until his voice goes hoarse with your name, until it feels like his abdomen would cave in and collapse, spurting and spilling until it feels like he’s turned inside out. It goes everywhere, thick, milky strands filling the gaps in his jeans and sliding down his legs in a sticky mess, and he slumps bonelessly into the headboard, panting against your lips as he catches his breath.

Sweetly, gently, he tilts his chin up just enough to kiss you, his nose nudging your cheek intimately when he pulls away, his lungs too deprived of air to keep going. He winces when you shift above him, knowing that you can feel the wet spot pooling under your bare thighs.

Joel breaks the sluggish silence first, cracking a grin. ‘So much for just makin’ out.’

You clumsily climb off his lap and crash land sideways onto the mattress. ‘Is that a complaint, Joel Miller?’

He drapes a heavy arm over you and pulls back you flush into him. ‘Well, these jeans are fuckin’ ruined. I want a refund.’

‘I’m afraid we don’t accept cum-stained returns. Store policy.’

He pffts. ‘Damnit. Should’ve read the fine print.’

You grin. ‘Well, at least there's something deeply poetic about cumming in the jeans that I picked out for you.’

‘Touché, sweetheart,’ he grunts and presses a kiss to your forehead. Glancing down at the unmistakable wet patch on the denim, he asks hopefully, ‘Any chance you got some pants I can borrow?’

Ellie bounces her leg irritably, hunched over on the stairs exactly where Joel was sitting this morning. Where the fuck is he? He’s twenty minutes late, and he had the nerve to get all huffy when she lied about the start time today. Unbelievable.

Moodily looking left and right, there’s still no sign of him. She’s about to give up and wait for him at home when something conspicuously purple comes to a stop in front of her. 

Her jaw hits the floor.

‘Oh. My. God.’

She’s never been high before, but she’s pretty sure this is the stuff hallucinations are made of.

This being Joel Miller in a purple tshirt with a tacky logo she doesn’t recognise printed on the front and khaki cargo shorts that cut off at the knees, holding a basket of vegetables that she’s pretty sure he doesn’t eat.

With a roll of his eyes, he snaps, ‘Shut your mouth, you’re trappin’ flies.’

Pasting on the most obnoxious grin she can muster, Ellie croons, ‘Man, don’t you look pretty.’

Turning on his heel, Joel starts walking without looking back. ‘Shut up.’

Jogging to keep up, she cackles, ‘Hey, did you fall into a wormhole and went shopping at a farmer’s market in 1999?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You really should wear shorts more often, y’know, show off those knees. And purple really is your colour, Barney!’

Joel frowns, shooting her a sidelong glare. ‘How the hell do you know who Barney is?’

Ellie shrugs. ‘What do you think they teach us at school?’

He’s the one who starts it. The quake in his shoulders would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but nowadays, there’s not much that he can hide from her. As usual, she giggles first, which trails into a squeal when Joel gives her a shove on the back, sending her stumbling over her shoes.

‘Fuck you, man!’ she snickers and basically rugby tackles him, but he barely budges, lips pulling back into a toothy grin. 

Across the street, unbeknownst to the pair, Tommy smiles to himself as he watches his big brother laugh, really laugh - the kind that has him doubling over and gasping for air through watery eyes. For the first time since the world ended, he looks up at the sky with a reassuring nod, and he knows deep down - Joel will be just fine.

Notes: You guys continue to blow me away with your support - I cannot be more grateful for all the reblogs, asks and interaction with my silly Behind the Seams posts and random updates. Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what you think ❤️

I will be having a think over the next few weeks about where Seams will go from here. This chapter wraps up the first mini story arc, and I'll be dedicating August to wrapping up my Palomino series, so it will give me some time and distance to mull over what's next for Joel and Pin. I'm also a few followers away from a big milestone, so I might have something fun planned! 🥰

[redstarwriting]

the clash | v. ever fallen in love

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 3.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, mentions of death, demonic names, mentions of injuries, giving and receiving stitches, geniuses being dumbasses

a/n: these keep getting longer LMAO which is wild too bc i literally had an idea to make this chapter even longer, but i had to end up splitting it up. thank you to everyone who’s reading the series, i appreciate you all more than you will ever know. please enjoy this chapter, the next should be out either late tonight or tomorrow :)

previous chapter: iv. london calling

now reading: v. ever fallen in love

next chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

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It’s been a few months since you’ve become a part of Spider Society, and much to everyone’s disappointment, you and Hobie still hate each other. Even though on any given day the two of you will be seen around each other, you’re always arguing. Yelling. There have been multiple times where the two of you almost fought, but someone always breaks it up before it gets to that point. “Ready to go, Hobie?” Gwen asks, and he scoffs. “Can’t believe ‘m bein’ forced to go to that dickhead’s world by you of all people,” he grumbles, and she rolls her eyes. “C’mon man, we all know that you’ve both been way more irritable towards everyone because you haven’t seen each other in what? Like two days?”

“I’ll be a lot worse when I see them, I can promise ya that, mate,” he snaps and Miles shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, Hobie,” he says as Gwen pulls up the portal to your world. “Are you excited to see them? I haven’t seen you two apart for this long ever, you’re always together,” Pavitr says, side-eying Hobie. He keeps trying to tell Gwen and Miles the two of you only hate each other because you have strong feelings for one another and don’t know how to face them.

“I’m telling you, they’re obsessed with each other,” Pavitr says as he, Gwen, and Miles sit in his home, sipping some chai. “Obsessed with wanting to kill each other maybe, but that’s about it,” Miles says, and Pavitr groans. “No! You’ve got it all wrong! Neither of them knows how to express their feelings and that’s the only reason they act the way they do!” he tries to convince them, but Gwen and Miles just glance at each other. “I don’t know, Pav,” Gwen says. “I picked up on the romantic tension between the two of you immediately, why are you doubting my genius social cue reading now?”

“You need to stop being such a romantic, Pav. The two of them would rather eat glass than be romantically involved in any way,” Gwen responded, but Pavitr was not convinced.

He still isn’t. Hobie laughs. “Excited? You must be mental to think I’d be chuffed to see them,” he responds, and Pavitr sighs. One day. One day he will get Hobie to admit he cares for you.

Gwen was honestly a little nervous for this little meet-up. The two of you had a really bad fight recently, and trying to get the two of you back to talking level seems a little ambitious.

“You what?” he yelled, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m being mentored by Miguel.” Hobie stares at you, not saying anything, with his mouth slightly open before he shakes his head. He’s very angry, but you simply don’t care. “He’s helping me, Hobie. We both have the venomous bite thing, so he’s trying to help me out with it and helping me adjust to–”

“Don’t you dare say adjust to fuckin’ Spider Society like I ain’t been here the whole time.”

“You never necessarily helped, Hobie. Unless you count constantly insulting me and–”

“Nah, don’t gimme that fuckin’ rubbish, (Y/n),” he growls, and you cross your arms. “Why are you so mad about it anyway?” He laughs. “Why am I mad? Seriously?! You’re the right fuckin’ hand of the pitch and toss!”

“The what?” you ask and he groans. “The fuckin’ boss, (Y/n)! The man!”

“So what, Hobart?! In case you forgot you’re a part of this society, you listen to Miguel too!”

“I fuckin’ don’t!”

“You fucking do!” By this point, you’d pulled attention from several other spiders, not only because of the yelling but because their senses were going off. The two of you were too focused on each other to realize they were all ready to pounce on the two of you. “Fuckin’ piss off before I do somethin’ we both regret,” he growls, and you laugh. “Make me.”

The two of you were separated after that and haven’t talked to each other since. Granted, it’s only been two days, but that is long for the two of you, honestly. And it’s been making everyone a target of Hobie’s rude remarks and your cynicism. The two of you need to talk because clearly, not talking just makes the two of you feel worse.

Even though Hobie’s acting like this is the worst thing his friends could possibly do to him, he does kind of sort of miss you. Which he hates. It’s been two days and he’s already missing you? Disgusting. He can’t wait to yell at you about it. He’s able to keep his cool and pretend like he really doesn’t want to go, but in reality, he’s so anxious to see you. “Alright, come on,” Gwen says, motioning for Hobie to enter the portal. He glances around at them. “Makin’ me go first?”

“Can’t have you run off at the last minute,” Gwen says and he sighs. “Whatever,” he says, walking a little too fast into the portal. He only stops when he’s enveloped in a familiar darkness. He feels something brush up against his leg, and he lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good seein’ ya, Shadow,” he says, bending down to give your cat some attention. Shadow headbutts him and he scratches between his ears. Your cat loves Hobie, much to your disdain.

“You hurt him, I kill you,” you said to him the second time he was at your place. He picked up Shadow while you were in your room, and when you came out and saw him holding your baby, you were ready to fight. But you were ready to fight him at any given moment anyways. “I won’t hurt him. He’s much cooler than his owner anyways,” Hobie says, petting his head. You roll your eyes. “Yeah well– wait is he purring?” you say, and Hobie smirks at you. “Looks like he likes me better than his owner too.”

“Shut the fuck up. Shadow!” you call your cat, your voice going from a tone that screams ‘I hate you’ to one that screams ‘I love you.’ Of course, Shadow’s ears perk up and he hops out of Hobie’s arms and right over to yours. You stick your tongue out at Hobie, who rolls his eyes and looks away to cover up the dusting of a smile on his face. “What are you, 12?” he asks, and you scoff. “Can I hold Shadow?” Pavitr asks, and you hand him to him without a second thought. But no matter who you passed him to, he’d either end up in yours or Hobie’s lap.

He's so lost in the memory that he doesn’t even sense you approaching. “So, you decided to actually show up. I’m surprised,” he hears your voice and looks up at you. “Wasn’t exactly by choice, love. If I had it my way, I’d never be in this hellhole again,” he retorts, and you just shake your head and say nothing. That’s strange. You thought for sure you would mention something about him being forced to do something even though he always does what he wants. “What? Have you lost your spitfire after only two days of not talkin’ to me?” he asks, standing. You sigh. “I just… I don’t have the energy to fight today, Hobie. Okay?”

Don’t have the energy? You literally always have the energy to fight with him. Before he can say anything else, Pavitr comes through the portal.

“(Y/n)! How have you been?” he asks, excitedly, hugging you. Hobie doesn’t like that. But what he doesn’t like even more is the slight look of pain that spreads across your face for a split second. He observes silently as you play it off like nothing happened, and Pavitr is none the wiser to it. Gwen and Miles enter shortly after, and the dynamic you all had before yours and Hobie’s attempted murder of each other returns. Except for the constant bickering between you and Hobie. Instead, it’s just a lot of silent glaring, and subtle reactions. “Okay, hold on. What the hell is this?” Miles asks, and you both look at him. “What?” you say at the same time, ending in a side eye to each other. “That! That right there, why aren’t you two threatening to tear each other’s heads off because you said the same thing?” Miles asks, and Hobie shrugs. “I got nothin’ to say to them.”

“Ditto,” you say, and the three of them look at you two like your heads just got cut off. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m havin’ a laugh, mate?” Hobie snaps at Miles and he puts his hands up in surrender. “This… is odd. I can’t recall the last time it was quiet between you two.”

“Because it never was. They always went for each other’s throats like their own lives depended on it,” Pavitr says to Gwen, and you clear your throat. “We’re right here, you know,” you say with a forced grin. “Yeah, care to save the talkin’ bout us til we aren’t around?” Hobie grumbles and the three glance at each other before nodding. “Sorry, you two…” Gwen says, and you shrug. “It’s whatever. Dealt with worse,” you say, and Hobie nods. He glances over at you again. How is no one else noticing how weird you’re acting? Is he the only one who pays attention to you or some shit?

This isn’t the first time he’s picked up on your odd behaviors. Within the time he knew you, he was able to notice your behaviors unlike anyone else.

He wasn’t necessarily looking for you. He’d never go out of his way to look for you in a million years, yet here he was. In your world because you didn’t show up at the allotted time everyone was gonna meet up at in his world. He webbed up to the tallest building, the Ember Stake Building. It resembled that of a wooden stake, except all black and metal instead of wood. Sure enough, you were there. “You’re late.”

You turn and look at him, but don’t say anything. Instead, you just turn away. He frowns. “What’s that all about, then?” he asks, plopping next to you. You sigh. “I think I’m just gonna stay here tonight.”

“What? Why? Because you’re too borin’ to do anythin’ fun? Gotta work late tonight?”

“No. Personal reasons,” you say and he cocks his head to the side. “Such as?”

“Fuck off, Hobie. I’m not telling you.”

“Yes, you are. What’s goin’ on in that empty head of yours?” he asks and you give him an unamused look. “It’s the anniversary of my Uncle Belial’s death,” you mumble. He frowns. “Ah. I see.”

“...Yeah.” The two of you sit in silence, the wind the only noise happening before he sighs. “Well then, you’re definitely comin’ tonight.” He stands. You look at him. “I just said-”

“And I don’t give a shit. Come on, your friends are waitin’ for you. Besides, they can help ya get your mind off of it. Chop-chop.” You ended up going because you were forced to. But you did have a good time. Hobie was right, it helped you get your mind off of things. And maybe you were reading into it, but he seemed just a tad bit nicer to you that night than normal.

And you could tell his. 

“And what the hell is your problem today?” you appear behind Hobie who is angrily restringing his guitar in his common room at Spider Society. “Well now you’re a part of it,” he responds. You sit on the floor across from him. “As much as I’m happy just my presence can reduce you to a massive asshole, I don’t think I’m the only reason this time.”

“How could you even tell?”

You shrug. “You busy your mind and hands when you’ve got something on your mind,” you say, and he looks at you. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Didn’t realize you were obsessed with me.”

“You wish,” you say. He sighs. “New group of fascist assholes showed up today,” he begrudgingly opens up and you nod. “Told you so.” He glares at you. “Had to say it,” you say, “But you’ll beat them. You always do.” He glances at you. “And if you can’t, I’ll just take care of it for you.” He laughs, unamused. “I’d like to see you try.”

He’s unsure why so many memories are flooding back to him at this moment in time. The answer is that he’s obsessed with you and Pavitr is right, but we don’t need to talk about that until he realizes it for himself. Maybe not seeing you has made him think about you more for some reason. He shakes his head, rejoining the conversation. Everything goes surprisingly well for the rest of the time you all are together. Unfortunately, Gwen gets a notice that something is happening in her world, and she has to go. Miles follows, and Pavitr is torn between going with them or staying with the two of you to make sure no one gets murdered. Or to see some romantic shit.

“We been behavin’, haven’t we?” Hobie says, a bit relieved they were leaving so he could find out what was up with you. You were close with the others, but even they’ve commented on you two only opening up with each other. “You actually have… and maybe it’d be good to leave them alone. Talk out whatever issues they’re having,” Miles says to Pavitr and Gwen, who look at each other but reluctantly agree. Miles and Pav rush into Gwen’s world before her. “I swear if you two kill each other I’m going to kill both of you,” Gwen says, walking backward into the portal to her world and pointing at the two of you. “We won’t.”

“Probably,” Hobie finishes, and Gwen rolls her eyes before disappearing. There’s a silent tension between the two of you before he speaks up. “What happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“Don’t play dumb with me, now. What happened?” he pushes, and you frown at him. Shadow leaps up into your lap and nuzzles you. You sigh and gently pet him. Hobie stays silent, watching and waiting. “Just… bad day,” you mumble. “Bad day, how?”

“Bad spider day.” He hums. “That why you looked like Pav stabbed ya after that hug?” You look at him, surprised. “You saw that?”

“Course I did. ‘m not fuckin’ daft,” he responds, and you look at Shadow. “Yeah… it’s nothing, though. Just a few scratches, typical Spider-Person shit,” you say, and he nods. “Let me see, then.”

“What?”

“Let me see.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re lyin’,” he shrugs, and you glare at him. “Have I told you I hated you?”

“Not recently, but yeah.” You glare at him but sigh. “Fuck you, Hobie,” you mumble, but shrug off your oversized cardigan. His eyes widen as he sees deep lacerations and bruises spread across your shoulder and onto your back. He stands up and approaches you without even realizing it. You watch him as he studies your injuries. “Who did this?” His voice sounds darker than you’ve ever heard it. You look away from him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he responds immediately. You turn your head to look at him again, only to have him staring directly into your eyes. “Prowler,” you mumble, and he frowns. “The worst of the worst in your world,” he whispers to himself, recalling a conversation the two of you had months ago. He glances around. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he asks, and you look at him with a side-eye. “Why?”

“Cause I wanna get high off the painkillers in it, why do you think, you dolt?” he snaps, and you point to your bathroom. “Under the sink.” He gets up and walks into your bathroom, grabs the first aid kit, and walks back out to you on your couch. “Turn round and move a bit,” he says, and you do. He sits behind you, starting to clean and stitch to your injuries up. You wince slightly and he frowns. “Why haven’t you done this yet?”

“I can’t reach back there myself.”

“Then ask someone else to do it.”

“I don’t have anyone to ask anymore.”

“Yes, you do,” he says without missing a beat. You turn your head to say something snarky to him, but he looks at you at the same time. Your faces are closer than the two of you expected, causing you both to quickly look away. You can feel your face burning, and you’re grateful the injuries are mainly on your back and not close to your heart because you don’t want to hear his comments about how fast it’s beating. On an equal note, Hobie’s happy you aren’t looking at him because he has his jaw clenched and swallows hard. His heart is beating just as fast, but he pretends like it’s nothing, just like you. He finishes the stitches, placing bandages over top of them. “Done,” he says, and you mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as he tosses the first aid kit onto your coffee table. “Should be healed by tomorrow,” you mumble, and he nods. “When did that happen?”

“A few hours before you all got here,” you admit, and he frowns. “And you were just gonna pretend nothing happened?”

“Yes. I told you earlier, I’m too tired to deal with any bullshit today, okay?” you confess, and he frowns.

“He get ya that good cause you’re tired?”

“I guess.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno.”

“Stop lyin’ love,” he says, and the nickname you hate oh so much sounds just a little sweeter to you than it should. “Couple days ago.”

“You haven’t slept in two days?” You shake your head, and he sighs. “Go the fuck to sleep. Now.”

“But–”

“Go,” he demands, pointing to your bedroom. You groan, “You’re so fucking annoying,” you mumble, getting up and dragging yourself to your room. “Yeah, yeah whatever,” he says, following you. You flop onto your bed as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Come to tuck me in?”

“You wish,” he watches as Shadow hops up onto your bed, curling up against you. You immediately put your hand on him and pet him. Hobie frowns as he feels a pang of annoyance toward your cat. “Gonna stand there and watch me sleep or something?” your voice pulls him out of his ridiculous thoughts, and he scoffs. “Gonna stand here and make sure you don’t try to get up as soon as I go,” he says, and you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, rolling away from him. He stands there until he’s sure you’re asleep. He glances at Shadow, who is still awake and staring at him. He puts his finger to his lips to say “shh” as he pulls his mask over his head.

He and the Prowler of this world need to have a bit of a chat.

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@444neapolitain​ @afraidofshrimp​ @arianalovescatss* @aroaceg @astrok1dz @baefy3764 @casmosmoon* @chill-guy-but-cooler @d1nne @dotheyevenknowmars @f1shb0nez @faerieluuv @fisshil @fukingsad @fushiguropleasesteponme* @friendly-reject @hisdarlingabsurdity @idk-i-draw @imarealfungi @imobsessedreader* @ineedsomeconfidence @inkthgoat @iwillrisefromthefire @j3st3r-13 @jingliuu @jjkclub @katiebug0603 @kenqki @khaleesihavilliard @kittekat420 @lacunaanonymoused @localbeidousimp @marshallowy @mistpx* @miwagila @naarra* @nikabearr @pookiesnatcher @queen-of-the-bored @queen-of-the-grapefruits @sadbitchhours400* @scoliobean @sillylittleguyinc @simplefools* @siriusly1 @sparklyphantom @stevenknightmarc​ @sxftiebee​ @thatweirdgirlsposts​ @valee1xoxo* @weyrrii* @wheeeelys​ @woahrin* @xoxobabe* @zero-boxes​ 

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

if you asked to be on the taglist and i forgot, i’m sorry :( feel free to leave a comment on this or message me separately and i’ll get you right onto it!

[gyumibear]

˗ˏˋ STUPID CUPID ˎˊ˗

“cupid, what you do to me….” | stupid cupid — nct dream

synopsis ── after your latest forum fails miserably, you’re almost out of an extracurricular! that is, until a mysterious account going by the name “cupid” brings you just the thing you need to fix your reputation: park wonbin, radio show host and your longtime crush. with the help of cupid, wonbin suddenly falls head over heels in love with you! you’d expect for this to be a good thing right? but no! everyone’s starting to notice how strange wonbin’s acting and now it’s up to you to figure out how and if you can get wonbin back to normal before anyone finds out what you’ve done. especially because “cupid” has disappeared… stupid cupid.

pairing — campus crush!park wonbin x journalist!reader

genre — smau + written. romcom. suggestive. love spell au. college au. angst. “strangers” to lovers.

warnings — hella swearing + crude humor (kys jokes). mentions/illusions to: food/sex/alcohol consumption. fighting (physical and verbal). mind control (what cupid does is essentially brainwashing). light jealous and possessive behaviors. use of pictures of yn but only for reference. everyone makes fun of each other a lot, but not maliciously. yn is a manga reader so spoilers for jjk, csm, the summer hikaru died & black butler. more warnings in the actual chapters, but please always lmk (!!) if i missed something. keep in mind: this story doesn’t describe the idols in real life and is written by a blk person so aave will be used.

playlist — stupid cupid nct dream. mutual butterflies ryan trey. don’t get mad wayv. cosmic red velvet. one kiss riize. love language hibiki. off the record ive. 2nite p1harmony.

notes — the taglist is open! (26/50) updates every saturday! creds to the respective artists for the graphics used! please consider reblogging or replying with your thoughts on each chapter!! it means the world to me but i appreciate spam likes too! you can join the taglist by replying to THIS post. asks will be deleted sorry </3… it’s just easier to manage for me.

profiles ── hate91.1 | public forum mods | specialz

act one let me monopolize that heart…

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ONE ── this week’s forum

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TWO ── nobody wants wonbin

ᯓᡣ𐭩 THREE ── chat… am i cooked?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 FOUR ── tell her the truth

ᯓᡣ𐭩 FIVE ── party ready!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SIX ── byob (bring your own baby)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SEVEN ──

ᯓᡣ𐭩 EIGHT ──

ᯓᡣ𐭩 NINE ──

ᯓᡣ𐭩 TEN ──

act two girl you got me crazy…

to be added…!

additional notes ── ah sunny back again with another smau! yippee!! um, i don’t have much to say except hii if you’re new round these parts.. i hope y’all enjoy because i worked hard and i hope this doesn’t flop? i’ll be sad. pleek.. pleek…?

early taglist ── @onlyhyunjin @pxnklover @glorism @nujeskz @soheendo @starwonb1n

2024 © GYUMIBEAR. do not repost, modify, or translate my work onto other social media sites.

[vidalswife]

The Raven & The Witch

Word Count: 2,104

pairing: agatha harkness/rio vidal, salem timeline.

Summary: A young witch is a witch alone, the journey to power is a long one, and many fear what they do not understand. Agatha Harkness is a witch many fear. Only at eighteen did she make her mark, and in-grave her reputation on those of the world. She was outcast, isolated, and ostracized. A young witch with no friends, no family, meets a girl in the woods as she attempts to discover the secret of a raven, which has been tailing her for months.

author's note: as the days have been passing, ive been wondering on agatha and rio's past. when rio said, "how long has it been agatha" followed by, "since you got your hands on the darkhold and hid behind all that dark magic?" it started to make me think about their past. so im writing rio and agatha in salem, depicting a young (not underage) love, and how it lead to their current hatred of one another. im estimating the length of this fanfiction to be up to eight chapters. there will be smut within the fanfiction however there is none in this first chapter. minors, DNI. i hope you guys enjoy it! <3

When a young witch turns eighteen, she is allowed into the Witch’s Ward. The Ward is not a simple place, it is a maze inside of an enchanted library, and it leads to the ancient books of magic that fuel a witch and her knowledge. In a single pre-established coven there must only be one witch permitted per the year, and as the case with most covens are, they usually have more than one witch whom on her eighteenth birthday is ready to ascend. The maze inside of this ancient institution is most known for its merciless challenges and low survival rate. Sometimes three, maybe four witch-kin will enter, and none will return. Other times, many will enter, and only the one will return. Once a witch survives The Ward, she no longer will face challenges within it, and it will be open with all of its knowledge to any that can survive. Witches of all kinds dream of beating The Ward, but few have actually done so.

There is a tale of a young witch, bright for her age, and powerful among her coven. She was the sole victor of the maze.. at least for a moment. You see, soon after she emerged victorious from the race into Coventry, another witch surfaced. The established coven had never heard of this happening before, so they did the best they could to determine a new admission. They deemed the witch with the least injuries the strongest, and decided that she would be their new sister, but what was to be left of the other witch? She had survived as well, but they could not push back her entry for another year, there were more witches who would grow and age. The answer came to the coven just as quickly as they had decided their winner. On one formidable and dark night, the young witch who had suffered most, filled with vengeance and hatred, did not let her adversary achieve victory over her, taking the matters of ascension into her own, corrupt hands.

By the morning, the witch who was deemed the weakest emerged as part of her coven, with the other young girl gone, and never seen again. For many years the sisters searched for her, or a sign that she had been alive, but there was no sign. The weaker witch became one of great renown, a symbol of darkness, of all that a witch should try not to be. Witches around the world thought her a witch killer, a murderer, and a maniac. They ostracized her, abandoned her, and ran in fear from her. The coven’s leadership couldn’t bear to outcast or kill the witch, as she was the daughter of their most honored, and were not entirely sure what had happened that night. So, they instead ignored her. It was a lonely road for a witch all alone, until of course, she wasn’t alone.

_______________________

Agatha woke with the sun, its immense warmth flowing through the unshaded window of her chamber. Her body squirmed and began to stretch, as her eyes fluttered open. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and she wore only her undergarments. Her room was quite empty, except for some books and a small wardrobe.

She looked around in disappointment at her stockhouse, a subtle sigh escaping her lips. She was no stranger to loneliness, for the last year she had been the outcast of her coven, and witches alike. They all thought her a monster, but they didn’t know. They’d never want to know the truth, and she’d never tell them. If she were to be believed a witch killer, she would be deemed so.

But of course, it was hard on a young girl to face isolation, so inside, she burned, and faded. More and more with each day the young brunette found herself tempted to fall away from witchkind.

She would follow the same routines, waking with the early morning light, looking around her depressing chambers, dressing, dining, being avoided, attending the ward for a lesson, dining, undressing, and then falling to slumber with the rise of the moon. She never dared try anything new, not until she saw the raven atop the chimney of her mother’s station. It was a small, dark creature, but the longer she stared, the longer something seemed different. The laughter of young children skewed her mind away from the animal, as she watched them play with the witches her age. She scoffed, turning in the opposite direction, and retreating to her chambers. She didn’t notice that the raven watched her as she paced away.

The next few days were the same as always, wake, dress, dine, shun, lesson, dine, undress, and slumber, except the raven seemed to follow her. At first she was unsure if it was the same winged animal as before, but its brown, humanlike eyes were impossible to mistake. It followed her into the next week, and it began to arise anger in the witch. What bird dares mock her? What creature dares to follow and disturb her?

The raven became a symbol of frustration for Agatha, a reminder that she was alone and peculiar.

It followed her for months, brown eyes staring into her soul at every chance.

On the eve of her birthday, she decided that she had enough of the raven and it’s foolishness. She would get rid of it for good, and finally be at peace, without those beautiful brown eyes watching her at every turn. She waited inside her chambers, eyes glued to the raven which stood motionless across from her abode. It for once, did not have her in its eyesight, and she reveled in the fact that she would finally outsmart the desperate creature. The bird rose from its spot, flying off into the treeline. Agatha thought it odd the raven did not watch her on this night as it did many nights before, but she was too overcome with pride to think it anything but a coincidence.

The next morning, she woke with the sun, a warm smile entrancing her lips. Today she would conquer the raven, and then, maybe things could be different for her. She reached for the woven bag that lay atop her wardrobe, placing her spellbook within it. She wanted to be prepared for her battle with the bird. Knowing that the forest was typically warmer in the spring months, she dressed in a thinner fabriced skirt that surpassed her ankles and a white long-sleeved button down blouse. She did not wear shoes, as it was un-witchlike to walk in a forest unless barefoot. Her dressing may be looked down upon, seeing as she was expected to a lesson later that afternoon and may not have time to redress, but she must be comfortable when she faces her opponent. As the bell sounded to commence dining, she set off towards the treeline, her woven bag thrown over her shoulder, and her hair free to the wind.

As she met the entrance of the forest, she looked up to the height of the trees, wondering if she would find the raven in its nest. Agatha turned her head, making sure her coven could not see her. When she deemed it clear, she stepped into the everlasting ecosystem of trees, bushes, and plants.

Her plan was clear, she would track the raven, kill it, and then return to her lesson. The brunette looked around before slipping her bag from her shoulder. She pulled from it her spellbook, opening it to the page illuminated by a string between parchment. On the page was an incantation that was supposed to help her find the bird. Agatha read it over multiple times, memorizing the pronunciation and chant of the spell.

‘Venator factus est venatus, anhelitus invenias quo capis, et te ad raptorem capias’

With a deep breath, she looked ahead to the ensemble of green and then closed her eyes as she began to recite the incantation, “Venator factus est venatus, anhelitus invenias quo capis, et te ad raptorem capias.” She inhaled, repeating, “Venator factus est venatus, anhelitus invenias quo capis, et te ad raptorem capias.”

A warmth spread in her body, and she opened her eyes, in which a flash of purple was clear. She knew the spell had worked. Almost immediately, a path was found. It had no markers, yet Agatha knew exactly where to go. She wrapped around trees and boulders, stepped over a fallen greenery, and walked up a short incline in the terrain. She focused only on the raven, her mind filled with nothing but the image of its obnoxious brown eyes.

The spell led her to a creek. It was dark, and looked green from the reflection of the treetops, but not only that, there was another person. She was floating in the water with her eyes closed. Agatha noticed her hair floating atop the water’s surface, almost depicting a root-like symbol. Her eyes trailed down to her face, she looked angelic and not only that, she looked asleep.

That wasn’t the only thing she noticed about the other. Her body was uncovered, and she was naked. Lily pads covered her breasts, and the water was far too dark to see much else. This sent a rising heat to the brunette’s cheeks, and she was sure they were red. The witch contemplated leaving and acting as if she didn’t see a thing in the woods, but it was too late. Almost as soon as she began to think such a thing, the woman in the water spoke.

“Enjoying the view?”

Agatha’s cheeks were as hot as the sun, she couldn’t move anything in the moment. Her brow furrowed as she noticed how the woman’s eyes remained closed, begging the question of how she knew of her presence.

The stranger chuckled, and Agatha debated casting a spell on her. Something about the woman felt familiar, she couldn't place what, but she could feel that this was not their first encounter. Agatha began to speak, sighing as the words came out, “I was just looking for a raven— and you happened to be in my way.”

She took note of how the stranger’s lips curled in a smirk, and how her brow furrowed, “Looking for a raven? How come?”

Agatha realized she probably sounded crazy, and she felt a need to explain. “I’ve been tracking this bird– it won't stop following me, and my spell led me to you” in almost an instant, the witch’s hand flew atop her mouth. She realized her mistake and looked at the woman in the water with ferocious, squinted eyes. She didn’t know what to say, but she hoped the stranger would deem her insane and drop the interaction.

To the brunette’s surprise, she didn’t.

Instead, she watched as the woman opened her eyes and stood in the creek. The lily pads fell from her nipples and she stood in front of the witch completely naked, water dripping down her neck, breasts, and stomach. Yet, this wasn’t what Agatha was most concerned with, instead, it was her eyes. They were brown and beautiful, like the raven’s. In fact, Agatha was sure her eyes were the same as the raven’s.

The brunette’s eyes remained locked onto the brown eyed girl. They did not falter not once, not even as the stranger began to rise from the water and inch closer to Agatha.

They were only a breath apart, the woman’s eyes still captured by the other pair. Agatha spoke, aware of their closeness, “You’re—” but she was cut off.

The stranger’s lips were on hers, and she cupped her hand on the witch’s cheek. Those beautiful brown eyes disappeared behind her eyelids, and so Agatha’s eyes shut too. She hesitated at first, but as the time grew, she became filled with hunger and desire.

Their lips clashed together and the woman’s other hand was now wrapped around Agatha’s waist. The witch’s hands wrapped around her neck, one ending up buried in her wet hair.

They only parted when their lungs couldn’t deny the need for air anymore, and when they did, their eye contact resumed as if it never faded. Agatha only stared at the woman in shock, but then, she smirked.

“I knew you’d come, Agatha” she said, which resulted in a head tilt from the witch.

“Who are you?” she asked, biting her lip as her eyes trailed from the stranger’s eyes to her perfect figure.

“I’m Rio Vidal.”

Agatha smirked, crossing her arms.

“You’re a green witch, aren’t you?”

[seventhcallisto]

Chapter IV — "mirrors."

Deep down.

Toc/cw; suggestive undertones, dialog, and themes. Pre-heat haze, san getting angry, ooc yunho and san. More world building, possessiveness. I'm bad with cw. COMMENTS PUSH MY MOTIVATIOOON Thank you♡

It's four days before your heat. Hongjoong, and you are trying your best not to be obvious about your affections, but it's getting harder the closer you get to your heat. Maybe it's the consistency of your schedule. Waking up at the earliest of dawn, writing down new lyrics as soon as you reach for your phone and then immediately getting up and beginning your day that had changed, which ended up with you feeling strange. However, today is not your typical schedule day.

You thought you'd have more time, really. Seriously. Now you're a heaving, writhing mess under your blankets. Not knowing what's going on because it's the first time you've felt this after your diagnosis. Too hot. Too cold. Never enough. Tossing and turning. Burning to be touched. It only lingers for an hour like a warning sign. The sense of being on the verge of heat. You don't know exactly what to do or what to say. Google is fairly helpful. You especially don't want to leave your room when all of your members are alphas. Even if they're taking scent suppressants, your smell is still extremely sensitive to them.

He hardly remembers you tucking him in a while ago now. Suddenly, your words echo.

"If you remember in the morning, then I give you full permission." To what? He doesn't know. All day- all week. As san gets ready, sits with wooyoung, does some more practicing, eats out with some friends. He still doesn't know what you meant, and he's grown frustrated about it. He's completely lost from the amount of drinking he did with wooyoung.

Maybe the over drinking thing is getting to san. Woo has got to stop daring him to drink more. He can't believe he still allows him to get away with it. As san arrives home around mid day from filming, he realizes it's time to settle in for the rest of the day.

Your scent lingers in the apartment, and it's a good thing that jongsik has told them to begin taking scent suppressants to prevent any of them from practically jumping you. It provides the self-control they need, but it doesn't prevent the thoughts that course through everyone's minds when they get the tiniest scent of you.

It may be thanks to the scent suppressants they have complete control over what they're feeling and doing currently. But it doesn't mean none of them want to knot you. Surely, san is speaking on behalf of his members that it would be heaven to do so. If they didn't have the scent suppressants.. well, san doesn't want to pop a boner thinking about it.

So, for now, they're just coping with your pre-heat scent all over the apartment. No one is allowed in other than the guys. Your pack. San definitely prefers it that way. He peels his jacket off when he steps through the threshold of the doorway, quickly closing it behind him to lock your scent inside.

Seonghwa prepares another meal for you, considering you're still cooped up in your room. And san wonders if hongjoong has been in and out of there, based purely on the smell of him lingering in the hallway. There's been talk about you and hongjoong. Gossip amongst the guys. The papers san found a while ago proves so.

He slaps the paper down in front of wooyoung. Taping his pointer finger against the signed line. "Look! She let him sign it!" san whines, grabbing at his hair. "This is driving me crazy," he huffs as he paces. On wooyoungs bed, yeosang and wooyoung scan the piece of paper. Jaws slack in shock.

There's no way they can dismiss this. Somehow, san got his sticky fingers on your heat paperwork. They don't say anything about that, but the signed line for your heat helpers is only signed by hongjoong. The pack alpha, yes they could ask him. But that would be extremely disrespectful, questioning the pack alpha.

Woo runs a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "Well, what if we ask- what if she gets uncomfortable? What if she doesn't want us to sign it and she feels pressured to say yes?"

Jongho enters their shared bedroom, questionable looks between his other members. The paper in question catches his eyes. "Why do you have that?" He asks, shutting the door behind him.

Does everyone know about the paper?

San struggles to come up with an explanation for the youngest member. "I- wo-" he looks to wooyoung, wooyoung lays the paper on the blanket, putting his hands up, he claims not to know anything about it. San has no other option except for explaining himself to jongho and what he's gathered the past few days.

Once san is finished explaining in the most rushed manner. Yeosang speaks up, looking to him. "I'm not asking her." Yeosang says, laying down his foot. "If she doesn't want us on it, it's not our place to ask her," yeosang looks back down to the paper in wooyoungs hand. "Put it back where you found it." jongho says, uncrossing his arms from his chest and leaving the room.

San looks back at the paper, propped up at the corner of the kitchen. It's not usual for paperwork to be left around here and there. But the fact you left it out in plain sight when San had to go and physically see it in your room to get it is very suspicious. He can even see the obvious bold letters spelling 'Heat Assessment'.

He not so subtly runs past seonghwa, slamming his keys down on the counter next to the paper. Seonghwa looks up from the dish he's preparing for you, looking at san, who hovers over the counter.

"Hey," seonghwa calls san. San shakes from his thoughts, turning toward the older member. Paper in hand. He reads seonghwas signature, cursive and strategically placed next to hongjoongs. "What are you doing with that?" Seonghwa doesn't flinch. he doesn't even ask about the content of the paper. Truly. Everyone knows, and now seonghwas signature is on it.

"How do you know what I have?" San asks, walking across the kitchen to seonghwa who spreads out some slices of apples on your plate. Seonghwa doesn't look up, "we all know what that is." It's a lie. Many of them dont know. San knows it, too. seonghwa pops a slice into his mouth, biting down on it. The souring scent of san fills the kitchen. "Why has -" he slams the hand holding the paper down next to the plate. Suddenly Agitated. "Why has no one asked about it?"

Seonghwa looks to san, finishing cutting the cheese with the knife in hand. "Asked? It's none of your business." Maybe seonghwa is a little harsh about it. He knows that, for fact. The door down the hallway pops open. San doesn't take a second to tell seonghwa off. Instead, he's marching down the hallway.

Hongjoong is just about to enter your room when he feels san pull him back by his arm. A deep set frown over his eyebrows. "Why didn't you tell us about this!?" He places the paper against hongjoongs chest. Hongjoong looks between the paper and san. Pulling it off.

San is picking for a fight. Seonghwa and hongjoong know. Whatever your scent has done has triggered san to be more possessive of you and more aggressive. Your heat is just around the corner, so the tension is rising in the apartment, and it's higher than ever. The boiling point has been reached since this morning.

"Why is your name on this!" San belts, looking between hongjoong and seonghwa.

Yunho steps out of his shared room with yeosang. The shorter peeps over his shoulder to look for where the yelling is coming from. The door creaks open across from them. Wooyoung and jongho peak out. Confusion written on their faces. Lastly. Mingi is the one to step out from the last bedroom on the left, right across from your room where they're currently at.

"San" hongjoong tenses, watching the way san challenges him. The sudden twisting smell of sans scent burning in his nose. "Tell me," san says through clenched teeth. Seonghwa tries to pull at his shoulder to lead him away from the leader but san shrugs his hand off roughly, cursing through his teeth. Sans tough hands shoot out, pushing hongjoong into mingi. The leader catches himself quickly with the help of mingi. Staring wide-eyed at san.

San, who just opened your door and went into your room. Locking the door behind him. He can hear the pounding on the other side. Drowning out his members, San steps forward into your dim bedroom. The only light comes from the window directly across from your door. It shines the dark room only slightly.

San calls you name and hears a shuffle of things in your closet. The walkover is draining. He can feel himself being pulled in by your sweet scent, invading his lungs. He knocks on it gently.

In the gap, your fingers slide the sliver of the door open. Eyes still blinking back sleepiness. San has to take a sharp breath at the invasion of his senses. You're curled up on the makeshift bed in your closet. A nest you made.

Plenty of clothes san has noticed were missing are strewn in a pile under you. Clad in hardly any clothing to combat the heat of your body. San bends down to your level. You still seem you. The smell isn't in full bloom. San can tell, somehow.

" 'Mega?" San calls to you ever so gently, watching you rub your eyes. "Sannie?" you respond, voice filled with recognition. The sound of your voice makes the tension in sans shoulders dissipate. You stumble up and out of the closet, anxiety begging to settle into your bones. He backs up to give you space. Did he even plan anything he was gonna say?

"What are you doing in my room?" You ask, rubbing your arm because of the cold breeze, and definitely not because you're nervous. "Doesn't my preheat scent affect you or whatever? It's not safe.." You mumble the last bit. San struggles to answer. "The scent suppressants.." he trails off. Watching you rub at the sweat on your forehead. He watches you twitch every so often. You don't meet his eyes. Grimacing slightly. "San.. what did you need?" You know he's not here to talk about something so simple. And the settling pain of your incoming heat is twisting your guts to make room for a big knot at the sudden interest of an alpha in your presence.

San sighs, all frustration draining from him in your presence. Wrapped around your smell. "The heat assessment paper." He says, you take a sharp breath. "What about it?" You turn to look away. San stands across from you.

"Do you really want me to sign it?" He asks in a single breath. You blink up at him, swaying in the cold room. "I said yes last night, did I not?" You huff.

You're kinda mean when you're in pre-heat. San thinks. He goes quiet. That's when you reach out, cupping his arm. Warm eyes meeting his in the dark. "San, I want all of you to sign it"

And you're being extremely bold. "All of us?" San mumbles out, shocked. It's not true, right? San, woo, and yeosang, can all be there for your heat? He won't have to feel terrible about signing it. His members (who are equally infatuated with you) can, too?

"You want all of us to sign it?" San phrases better, grabbing your palm in his, off his arm. "Yes, sign it," you sigh, growing impatient. This is why hongjoong and seonghwas name is on your paperwork.

San feels the hope bubble in his throat. Really, he can have it all. And especially when all he wants is to be with you at this moment. He doesn't care, you want him, and he wants you. Sans tough and somewhat calloused hands wrap around your jaw on each side, his fingers glancing over your primary scent gland, which makes you shudder into him. Your name falls off his lips as he searches yours. You can't help but stare at the lines in his perfectly round lips. As soon as his eyes fall over your own. He's pulling you into him.

You can feel the passion in sans touch, and you can feel the desperation of his kiss as it becomes more heavy. His left hand slipped down to your waist to pull you even closer. His fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt. Lips move in tandem, San wants to completely be overwhelmed by you, to be molded by your words and do whatever you want him to. And you want to completely drown into San.

Sans feet shift under him as you guide him, your hands slither into his hair. When you tug gently, san sighs into your mouth, never does he part. Nor does he want to. You know if you keep going, you'll succumb into the inner war of letting San have you here and now. San is oblivious to this. He's slowly letting himself slip into the other mindset he's pushed off for so long, the one where he gets to have you and take care of you like an alpha should.

You shake him out of it. Pushing his shoulder back against the door. You dislodged yourself from his lips. A soft tug, and you're gone from San. He lets out a strangled sound at the lack of your touch. You can't be entangled like this when you're so close to your heat. You can't let this get to you. Breathing each other in, you softly speak. "You have to go," you tell him. San can feel the door rattle against his back.

"As soon as you're done signing, it needs to be turned into the heat sanctuary I'm going to be at. If you don't, the signatures will mean nothing."

So that's why you've been cooped up in your room instead of going to your heat sanctuary. You've been waiting for them to sign it. As soon as san feels the door tug from his back, and you quickly shoving him out. Yunho is pulling the rest of him. Scowling. A screwdriver in hand as they tried to pry open your door. "Why did you do that! That was dangerous! For both of you!"

San heard and felt your words.

Everyone has been withholding their urges all week. Perhaps the scent suppressants are working compared to how your first heat hit. When they didn't know that scent you were producing and why suddenly they wanted to cover you in their own scents. It's a lot less easy knowing that you're only a room away in an apartment full of alphas who are willing to give you anything. But you don't know that. Hongjoong does. He takes a shuddered breath when he stands at your door ealy that morning. He can smell your preheat scent seeping out of the cracks.

Hongjoong knocks a few times. Listening for any movement on the other side. The door swings open. He's smacked with a wall of your smell. "Hongjoongie," you sigh happily. Pulling him in. "Hey pretty girl" he answers, pushing the hair behind your ears and out of your face when you don't stop to turn around and keep pulling him to your closet.

"Look," you slide the door open, dropping the edges of his shirt to crawl inside. "Come," you beckon him down towards the floor, pulling at his hand. He grins, crawling in. He's much too big for your tiny closet, but you fit in it perfectly. Hongjoong can see the amount of clothes on the floor, it's like a mountain, and in the center of it, it's big enough for you and someone else to sit in.

You're so very eager to get hongjoong in that circle, just to see if it's big enough. "Once I get to the heat place, I can make a bigger one for all of us." You push at hongjoongs shoulders, and his back hits the clothing softly. He doesn't know exactly what you're doing until you're sitting atop him, trying to nestle your face into his neck. He places two hands on your hips.

You're scenting him now, hongjoong knows this but decides to ask anyway. Shoving your face as close as you can get to him, your lips breeze passes his glands. Your forehead falls there instead, rubbing back and forth to transfer your scent. Encouraging a shuddered breath out of him. "What are you doing, huh?" He pulls your head out of his neck, his right hand holding your nape softly. You huff, hongjoong scans your features in the dark.

"You don't smell like me," you pout, hongjoong laughs lightly. Maybe in a teasing way but more so in a 'that was really cute' kind of way. The grin on his face tells you what exactly he's thinking. "Don't laugh at me" you pull away, sitting up on his chest. You drain the breath out of him in the best way.

Hongjoong slips to sit up, holding you close to him and not any lower. He only has so much control for now, and he doesn't want to risk giving a certain area the stimulus. "I'm not," he bites his grin. "You are," you mumble, shaking your head from the fog. You plop it on his shoulder, holding him against you.

"I'm not even in my heat yet, and I'm exhausted," you say into his shoulder. Hongjoong sighs for you. "I know, I'm working on it," he kisses your head. "I'll get you a knot as soon as possible, okay?" The sentence sounds so innocent when it really isn't. His finger rubs the side of your neck, where your scent glands are.

The thought of seeing hongjoong above you, giving you his knot, being in you for the first time, flashes through your mind. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. You stop the pulse between your thighs the best you can. "You can't say that." You whimper, pulling off of him. It takes everything in you to do so. The omega in you cries to be closer. Hongjoong pats your hip as you land softly on the clothes next to him. This plan is driving you mad, and yet you still have a week of a long heat ahead of you. "Has san said anything yet?" You look to hongjoong.

Hongjoong shakes his head, watching you lean your head on his knee. Prettily poking your lips at him in the most frustrating of pouts. "What if he didn't hear me?.. What if he doesn't like me like that?" You mumble, closing your eyes and squishing your legs into your chest.

"He heard you. He does." hongjoong sighs, rubbing your cheek softly. You don't know if he's saying it to reassure you. But you really hope san did hear you. And you hope you're not getting your hopes up.

Hongjoong tells seonghwa first. He trusts seonghwa a lot. You trust seonghwa just as much. The idea of going to him first was completely a mutual idea.

Later in the morning, Hongjoong knocks on his door, the one he shares with mingi and san. Sans out today. Wherever he is, he decides not to learn the details. Lately, san has been giving him the cold shoulder. And hongjoong has some idea why.

On the other hand, joong isn't ready to tell mingi about you wanting them. Hongjoong knows that as soon as he tells mingi, mingi will lose himself and steal you away for the week. You might end up inducing Mingis rut in the process. It's just not a great idea to tell mingi before everyone else, no matter if he gets upset about knowing later.

So with that, as soon as hongjoong learned seonghwa was alone in his bedroom, hongjoong took the opportunity. Three knocks, and he's entering. Seonghwa rests on his bed, looking at his phone. Hongjoong takes the bed across from him. Seonghwa knows whatever conversation they're about to have. It's gonna be serious. He sits up, taking whatever hongjoong has got to say heads on.

Seriously, if hongjoong says that you two are dating exclusively, seonghwas heart might actually explode into tiny shards.

It begins the same as a nightmare seonghwa has been having for a couple of days. "You know she and i are together," hongjoong starts off with, not knowing how else to phrase it. Seonghwas mouth falls open. "I.. what?"

Hongjoong really doesn't know how to say this. But for your sake, he's trying. "We're dating. I think we are - anyway. I was the first one who asked her, " hongjoong kinda bluffs, he didn't ask. It was kinda set in stone as soon as your lips touched his. Seonghwa wants to urgently shake hongjoong to spill everything. "She wants us to be a more intimate pack if you get what I'm saying, more than what the media suggests." Seonghwa sucks a harsh breath in, eyebrows furrowed.

"She feels most comfortable with us, not only that but.." hongjoong tries to gather his words. "She likes all of us, more than friends, more than members. She wants us on her heat assessment." Hongjoong explains, he can't exactly tell seonghwa you like-love him, it's not his place too. If seonghwa wanted an answer, he could ask you himself.

"She wants all of us?" Seonghwa can't believe it, to be with you and not make it awkward amongst them, is this true? Seonghwa can share. He can play nice. He might even enjoy the idea of sharing with the entirety of the pack. It's something he doesn't really understand, but he's completely fine with anyway.

Hongjoong nods, signifying that seonghwa is correct. Seonghwa let's out a breath.

"I'll sign it." He let's his words freely flow.

And when seonghwa brings your breakfast for the day, you're surprised to see him. And he's very surprised to see you making a nest in your closet instead of relaxing in your bed. "Hwa?" You question, taking the plate gently, your round eyes look up to him, assessing his presence. It reminds him of that moment in the kitchen, and seonghwa grips his fingers into the clothes under him to prevent the blood flowing somewhere else. "Hi," he greets back with a hum. You place the plate down next to the closet door.

"Hungry?" He asks, watching your behavior. You shake your head. "Not really... My heat last time took a lot, and I still tried to eat as much as i could," you sigh. Seonghwa knows a heat will take everything out of you, and you still won't be hungry until after. Too driven by the urge to.. well, breed, really. He hums as he listens to you talk.

You look like the most beautiful person in his eyes. Even when seonghwa met you for the first time. Even before debut, when you were just a tiny beta that begged to be picked on just to bite back. Even during every bad hair day you claimed. He reaches out to smooth his hand over your hair. Your roots are beginning to show. As soon as your heat is over, you'll be long overdue for a touch-up. And seonghwa feels like tagging along for it. Just to watch your pretty face in the mirrors.

You lean into seonghwas hand as it trails down your face. Sighing softly into his palm. "I signed the papers." He gulps, pulling his hand back. You miss his warmth. Even if you are burning up. Your eyes fall.

"I don't want you to be there for my heat -" you sigh out. Seonghwas heart leaps into his throat. "I want you to take care of me, and I want you to be there after," You try to find the right words. Confessions are hard. "I like you, more than my member, more than friends," you mumble.

"You know how long I have waited to hear that?" Seonghwa laughs into his words. You blink once, twice. He pulls you into his chest. Hugging you tightly. His head falls over yours. Seonghwa isn't the most muscular member, but he still has arms to prove how he can hold you comfortably in his arms and steal you away at any moment.

"I like you too, so much." he mumbles into your hair. You pull back and look up at him, begging for a kiss with your smile. If you did, you'd both end up getting lost in each other. You cut the silence. "Could you bring me some dirty laundry?" You laugh, embarrassed. He snickers. "Sure" he knows exactly why.

Sharing a room with yeosang isn't the best, yunhos member doesn't say much about this odd situation. Lying face down on his blankets, yeosangs phone is propped up by his hand. Yunho, on the other hand, is watching a show on his laptop, propped up on his chest.

It started off with yeosang tossing and turning all night, ultimately it woke yunho up. And before yunho could get a clue of what's going on, yeosangs breathy sighs and whimpers had him shooting right up and out of bed. No way was he gonna stick around to listen to yeo have a wet dream.

The early morning dew completely encased the windows after a heavy night of rain. The flashing clock on the microwave told him it was around 2 am. He took his spot on the couch and watched a movie in silence. When from the corner of his eyes, wooyoung tiredly stepped out of the hallway.

Wooyoung stood rubbing his hand over his eye. There's no obvious sign to yunho that he knew what was going on with yeosang, but he had his suspicion. He doesn't greet woo when he lands softly on the other side of the couch. Both watching the movie in silence.

Yunho can't take silence much longer. Wooyoung obviously can't, either. "Have you seen the heat assessment paper?" He uses this conversation for topic? When obviously, yunho knows about it. "Yea, why?" He asks, turning his chin towards the dark-haired guy.

Wooyoung shakes his head like he's swaying his thoughts away. "Did hongjoong tell you his name was on it?" That gets yunho. No. Hongjoong did not tell him. Because yunho didn't know the leaders name was on the paper.

Besides the feeling of longing building in his stomach, yunho wanted to know what wooyoung getting at. "No, he didn't.. why are you asking?" It's a short answer but an even quicker question. Wooyoung doesn't dare spare a glance at yunho. Opting to just stay quiet. It's completely unlike him.

"Whatever reason she has him on the paper, it isn't our business -" yunhos words stop when wooyoung shoots up frustrated, whisper yelling towards yunho. "Yes! I know it shouldn't be any of my business it's hers- but- dammit! She's one of my best friends! I have a right to know!" Wooyoung seems to be drowned in his own outburst for yunho to get a word in.

Pieces fall and collide in yunhos mind. Watching his other member pace back and forth. "There's more to this, isn't there?" Yunhos words stop wooyoung in his track. The dark-haired guy turns to look at his taller friend. hum.

Yunho knows that look, the all familiar sign of hopelessness when you love someone so deeply, and yet you don't know what to do. He's had the same look consistently when you would split from their group to take photos with other idols. Other idols who yunho knows want you. Everyone wants you. The all familiar ace of K-pop.

When he'd sit back as you did video challenges, dancing and laughing with someone else whilst he watched in silence. He wished everyone knew you were his when, in reality, you didn't even know how he felt. Yunho knows that sinking feeling of possibly breaking something that can't be unbroken. Yunho knows these moments of laughter and bickering, but he wishes he could have those moments with you in a different way. A way that you both understand. Mated as a pair. Together in a more intimate way.

Wooyoung is as still as a mouse, caught in the cookie jar, smacking his lips. His eyes squint down, his hand coming up to the bridge of his nose. Wooyoung is estranged. He is tired of lying to himself.

"We all love her, don't we?" He says into his palm, the world doesn't seem to crash like he thinks it does. Yunho stands up, taking wooyoungs hand away from his face. Wooyoung sighs, facing yunhos eyes with diminishing confidence.

"It's her choice.." wooyoung says just as yunhos mouth falls open to speak. Pulling his wrist from the taller members grasp.

It truly is your choice to call on them if you want to. And when wooyoung turns away, he doesn't see the way yunho loses all confidence. Compared to his members, yunho has a lot to beat. If he had to fight for you, could he?

The hallway flur pass yunho. In an instance, he's pulling san out of your doorway, fuming. San has your scent all over him. Yunho does not ignore the pink tinting in his members' cheek or the way his lips are red. His lips pull back into a snarl as he barks at san about what he did wrong. What could have happened.

Sans lovesick eyes and dazed expression only pisses yunho off more. Even when he lets go, he's still towering over the dark-haired guy. A sudden urge of violence panging in his fists. Yunho isn't violent, no. He doesn't know what happened, but the way san reeks of you is making him feel as if he could commit a felony then and there really digs deep.

His members attempting to calm the situation only make things drown him. He's got to step back. He's got to get out of this cramped apartment where you linger around every corner. He turns on his heels, wanting to make a beeline for the door.

"She wants us to sign her heat assessment."

Sans voice speaks up, and yunho knows exactly who it's directed at. He can feel the stinging of sans dark eyes against his back. Still, as wooyoung looks to his friend, he can tell he got more info than he leads on. But the main shocker is what he said.

"What?" Wooyoung asks for confirmation. Heart leaping into his throat. It's got to be a hoax. Seonghwa and hongjoong linger in the back, silently observing. Mingi is the second to step forward, bending his neck to ask what he means. Jongho definitely gets onto what he's saying immediately. But he's almost tempted to barge into your room and ask you himself.

"All-" jongho gets cut off. "All of us." Sans smile is bitten back. He looks to wooyoung, then to yeosang, shock etched into their faces.

"That's what she said?" Yeosang gulps. San has never lied about anything you've said. No matter what. San respects you too much and this situation is too serious for lying. Yet, yeosang looks to the leader and eldest member to know anyways. Their names are on the paper, something you allowed.

Hongjoongs eyes hold curiosity as he watches all his members, he was right. He's smug that he was right. You are so consuming, it wouldn't be anything other than a surprise for any one of them to not be madly in love with you. You are the prettiest shining pearl in the sea that is the world. Hongjoong shakes out of his thoughts. Seeking out the begging and hopeful eyes of his members. Even yunho, who is a few feet away. Turned to listen in on the conversation.

"It's true." hongjoong says.

Seonghwa took the honor of putting his name on your heat contact. So, in case of anything. Seonghwa will get that call. And he'll assess the situation when you can't. Regarding who goes in and out of your heat space, any official business regarding idol work, etcetera. Seonghwa took it on cause if hongjoong had- the eldest knew that the captain would be overwhelmed with all of it.

Seonghwa is your primary caretaker for the entire heat cycle whilst you're out. To confirm, they had all sat around your door whilst you were on the other side. Just a door away. You used your phone to call them so they could hear you clearly.

You are still coherent despite what san did earlier. The door is the closest way you can feel close to them. Joong had slipped a piece of paper under your door along with a pen.

'Rules' it reads. Rules for the guys. Anything you don't want them to do, they'll be coherent, partly, while you're in your omega mindset. They can't do anything you dont want, especially if you're allowing them to be heat helpers, which is why you need rules.

You quickly write down the list whilst they talk. Discussing what they need to do beforehand quietly on the other side.

You write down a list of things you're not okay with and precautions. Birth control for men is the most important thing on the list. You know omega-you will not take them, begging not too actually, and knowing your boys, they might actually give in or get distracted. So they'll have to do the protection protocol.

And that's all you had. You are fairly comfortable with everything else. You're sure your omega mind will enjoy it as well.

There's this obvious what-will-happen lingering in your mind. Will this make or break your group? You know this is only a temporary solution. You know they think you're only doing this because you trust them to take care of you. You can't tell exactly why they're agreeing. Do they possibly feel the same? You know hongjoong and seonghwa do- and even san.

What about the rest of them?

Later in the midst of the night, as you're curled up in your closet. Your phone vibrates, awakening you from a sticky and hot sleep, one where you hardly actually sleep a wink, and you're completely uncomfortable the entire time. The bright light shines and blinds you temporarily. It's 2 am.

At some point after dinner, you must have fallen asleep. The ache in between your legs spikes up your hips, causing you to curl into yourself more. Whining quietly into the blanket yeosang had gifted you for your birthday. A pale yellow.

Your fingers reach for anything. Your phone ends up in your tight embrace. A contact on display, how'd that get there? The all familiar picture of you and the tallest of your friends posing in front of a snowman, his bright smile and bowlcut styled hair. Yunho.

"Hello?" Yunhos happy deep voice rings from the other side of the screen. You shudder at the familiarity. Was his voice always this deep? Your thighs clench. "Hello..?" He repeats. Music can be heard, some type of indie song, you recognize a few of his friends talking. Laughing whilst he takes a call.

You can hear the shuffle of yunho on the other side. A door shuts behind him, silencing the music. He calls your name softly. You're still so quiet. You haven't said anything. He must have checked the caller ID. "Yunho," your small voice speaks up, and you bite your lip. Curling into your side. You continue on with a whimper, "Where are you?"

Yunho takes a sharp breath. "I'm out, getting food with some friends, you okay?" he tells you honestly, his feet pacing in the bathroom echos. Your head begins to fog worse than it has in the entirety of the week. "Yun" you whine his name into the air. "How far away?" You fall into a whisper.

"Not far, I'm leaving now." The fact yunho is willing to ditch his group of friends and come home just because you called has you leaking. You bite on the arm holding your phone up to stop a needy gasp.

"Talk to me omega, tell me what's going on." The shuffle of yunho pulling his jacket on distracts you. His friends call his name as he walks, and the doorbell jingles behind him. You can't take the ache anymore. The fog behind your thoughts is consuming. You feel yourself losing control.

"I need you, please. Yunho, Please." You whine, dropping the phone next to you. Yunhos' words fall short. You can hear the door to his car open and slam shut.

"I'll take care of you, omega, okay? Just keep talking to me, I'm almost there"

A/n; I'm terrible. Ik. leaving it off on another cliffhanger bc I didn't know how to finish this chapterrrrr iM SORRY. THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!! it's gonna start getting really spicy here on-

taglist: @lelaleleb @bratty-tingz @0325tiny @smilefordongil @atinytinaa @yunholuvrsblog @ja3hwa @stopeatread @sousydive @voicesinmyhead-rc @giiouis @c4tboyxiao @eastleighsblog @doggopepper @uhhheather @hyukssunflower @hhoneylix @tunaasan @satsuri3su @acescavern @edusweah @silentcry329 @silentreadersthings @ldysmfrst @idfkeddieishot @zdgx1

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ chapter iv: take on me ᝰ.ᐟ

previously on: 🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

"Don't worry," he says with an easy confidence. "We'll figure this out. But first, let's make sure you don't look like you're from outer space."

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main masterlist!

pairing: steve harrington x fem! reader

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The next morning, Steve takes you to Melvald’s General Store, their first stop on your journey to adapt to 1985. The whole vibe of the store amazes you, it was all retro-y, filled with posters and neon lights all over, just like what you’ve always imagined.

“You’re gonna drool over if you kept your mouth open.” You didn’t realize that you’ve been keeping your mouth open in awe at the store.

You can tell Robin and Dustin was looking at you weirdly, knowing that this is just some regular clothing store. But not for you. For you, there is nothing more magical than being in an 80s clothing store, filled with retro and disco like clothes hanging all over.

The jingling of the old-fashioned cash register catches you off-guard, and she marvels at the analog setup. There was even no card scanner! Or a QR code for cashless payment.

Steve raises an eyebrow, clearly amused when you slightly walked over to the cash register. “Welcome to the world of cold, hard cash,” he teases, handing her a few bills for small essentials.

From there, they head to another local thrift store, where Robin joins them, ready to make an event of it. The air is filled with the scent of worn leather and old fabric as Robin rummages through the racks, dramatically holding up an oversized blazer with shoulder pads. “Future girl, this screams power suit,” she jokes, earning a giggle from you.

Even Steve and Dustin helped to find you a nice pair of clothing for you to wear today, and at least a few days to come since they know it won’t be easy to fix that watch.

After much trial and error, some of it clearly for Robin’s amusement, you settle on high-waisted jeans, a striped crop top, and a denim jacket. Steve insists on adding a pair of white sneakers to complete the look.

“You’re officially a Hawkins local,” he declares with a grin as you twirl in front of the mirror, amazed of yourself. Sure, in 2025 people still dress like this. But this… All this felt so different for you. The whole vibe, the people, everything just felt like what you’ve always dreamed of.

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“Okay, so… since you’re from the future, I’m guessing you already know stuff that happened in the 80s, correct?” Dustin asked. We were just chatting on the backseat of Steve’s car, whilst Steve was driving to to the arcade, Robin sitting on the seat next to Steve. Dustin requested to take you to the arcade, wanting to show you the amazing stuff that happens on the 80a.

“Like… what, exactly?”

“Music! You know what I mean?”

“Like… Madonna and shit? Blondie? The Runaways?”

“Yeah, yeah! Like that!” Dustin was amazed when you said all those famous names.

“I’ve listened those on Spotify, kid. So… I’m not that stupid for a person who’s a maniac about the 80s.”

He looked at me confused when you said ‘Spotify’, as if asking for explanation about it without telling you.

“It’s like a music platform, you know? In this.” You showed my phone to him, unlocking it, and opened Spotify. You began searching for my downloaded playlists since you got no internet service here and played Take On Me by a-ha.

“Whoa…” Dustin let out an amused laugh. You even caught Robin’s attention. “I thought you said that’s a phone?”

“Yeah, it is! Except it’s not just for calling, and sending messages. You can listen to songs, watch movies, call people and see them through the phone, read books and magazines online, and many more!”

Your explanation about your phone caught all their attentions, including Steve, while you remind him to keep his eyes on the road.

“You’ve played Pac-Man?!” Dustin exclaimed. You tried to explain to him that you also played it on your phone.

“Oh you’ll never beat Steve. See that? That’s the highest score. And who does that belong to? Steve Harrington.”

“Oh, so the sailor likes to play Pac-Man…” You teased Steve who just entered the arcade after parking his car.

“Well, good luck on trying to beat that, future girl.” Steve challenged you, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Might as well let me try to beat your ass, Harrington.” You pulled up your jacket sleeves and began playing Pac-Man, just like what you always knew. You have to make Pac-Man eat up all the yellow stuff and make sure not to get caught by the ghosts.

On the first try, your Pac-Man was cornered by the ghosts already, and the screen immediately flashes GAME OVER.

Steve smirks. "Not as easy as it looks, huh?"

"Let me try again!" you insist, and to Steve's surprise, she improves quickly.

By your third try, you beats his high score, and the group gathers around, cheering her on.

"Looks like the newbie's got skills," Dustin says, impressed.

“Fun fact, there will be a Pac-Man movie in 2015. It’ll be called ‘Pixels’.” You said, smirking at Steve who seemed to be annoyed.

Steve, pretending to be annoyed, mutters, "Beginner's luck." But there's a glint of pride in his eyes as he watches your grin in triumph.

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As the night falls, the rink lights dim slightly as the disco ball spins, casting a cascade of shimmering lights across the floor. Dustin and Robin let Steve be your guide for tonight in the skating rink, since Steve is such a good skater deep down. Meanwhile, you and Steve sit side by side on the edge of the rink after their dramatic fall, catching their breath between fits of laughter.

The faint buzz of 80s pop hits fills the air, but you are hyper-aware of Steve’s shoulder brushing against hers and the way his smile lingers as he glances her way.

“You okay there, klutz?” he asks, nudging her lightly.

“Oh, I’m the klutz?” you retort, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who dragged me into that spin of death.”

Steve chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, you almost nailed it. I’d give it a solid six out of ten.”

“Wow, generous,” you mutter, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same.

Steve leans back on his elbows, looking out at the rink. “You’re actually not bad, though. For someone who didn’t even know how to skate, you’ve got potential.”

You tilt your head, watching him curiously. “Well that’s encouraging.” You gave him a sarcastic look.

You’re about to press him further when he stands up, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans.

“Come on,” he says, holding out a hand. “We’ve got time for one last lap before they kick us out.” You hesitate, staring at his outstretched hand. Your eyes moved to his, watching those brown eyes carefully. There’s something in his eyes, a warmth, a quiet sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. Slowly, you place your hand in his, and he pulls you to your feet, steadying you when you wobble.

Both of you step back onto the rink, and this time, you feel a little steadier. Steve skates alongside yourself, pacing slow but steady as the music shifts to a softer, dreamier track. The glow of the disco ball reflects in his eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the rink seems to blur away, it was like you’re the only ones left in that rink.

“You know,” you say quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between them, “I never really had nights like this. Back home, I mean.”

Steve glances at you, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, looking down at your purple skates. “I was always so focused on everything… school, responsibilities, the future. I never let myself just… be a teenager. Not to mention the strict parents.” You sighed, looking at his eyes. “It’s not as fun to live in the future like they said.”

He nods, a knowing look crossing his face. “Yeah, I get that. I used to be so caught up in trying to impress people, be the king of Hawkins High or whatever. But looking back? None of that stuff really mattered. This…” He gestures around them, his gaze landing back on you. “this is the kind of stuff that sticks. The moments you don’t plan.”

His words hang in the air, and you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name. Nostalgia for a time you only just started experiencing, maybe, or the bittersweet knowledge that moments like this are fleeting.

“I think you’re right,” you admits, your voice soft.

You skate in silence for a while, the music wrapping around them like a warm blanket. Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper playing vividly. You find yourself stealing glances at Steve, noticing the way his jaw clenches in concentration as he avoids an oncoming skater or the faint curve of his smile when he catches you looking.

At one point, Steve slows to a stop in the middle of the rink and turns to face you. “Alright, future girl. Let’s try one more spin.”

You groan at his request. “You’re relentless.”

“Come on, it’s your redemption arc,” he teases, his grin widening.

With a sigh, you let him take your hands, and attempt another spin. This time, it’s less of a disaster, though you still stumble into him at the end, your hands clutching his jacket for balance.

“See?” he says, his voice low. “Told you you’d get it.”

Your faces are close now, closer than you’ve been all night. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air between them. Your heart pound in your chest, but you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music.

“For what?” Steve asks, his expression softening.

“For this. For making me feel like I belong here,” you said.

He smiles, a genuine, almost shy smile that catches you off guard. “You do belong here. More than you think.”

The moment stretches out, the world around them fading into the background. You aren’t sure what’s supposed to come next, but you knows one thing.

For the first time since you arrived in 1985, you don’t feel like a stranger.

note: another chapter, yay! you really can see what i meant by the next chapters will be interesting, yeah? so happy i can finally finish this chapter ^^ hope u guys enjoyed it and stay tuned for the next ones <3

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if there's anyone who wants to be tag as well, feel free to ask <3

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters): Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion)

Story Synopsis: 

R&B singer/songwriter, Jameson Lucas, is well known as a charming playboy. The latest in his line of ‘loved em and left em’ behavior? Imani St. Cirie, an emotive singer/songwriter herself. As common sense pulls them in opposite directions – friendships are tested, old flames resurface, and new opportunities threaten to tear them apart for good. In this industry, dreams can make or break you – but what happens when love becomes the gamble of a lifetime? Chapter I // Chapter II // Special Edition // Chapter III // Special Edition Pt. 2

Chapter Synopsis: Jameson flies to Italy to repair his relationship with Imani, while Genie gets closer to Ellington.

Warnings: smut (18+), toxic relationship, possessiveness, profanity, usage of the n-word (if you’re white and read it, you owe us $20), rough sex, p in v (naturally), oral (female receiving), squirting, creampie, aftercare – if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.5k // Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

There will be alternating POVs between our leads.

CHAPTER IV: Insane / Wasted

she couldn't help but look at the images again. jameson had the kind of smile that lit up his whole face -- that was when he was truly happy. and he was smiling hard as fuck in the pictures. her eyes flitted to sloane's form, the hand against jameson's arm and the way it curved around his waist. she would never admit it to another soul...but they looked nice together. there was no love lost between she and sloane but imani didn't hate her until this exact moment.

"stop looking." genie told her and immediately immediately shoved her phone under the pillow.

"i wasn't." she lied. "fuck jameson and that bitch."

it had been genie who told her about the pictures -- warning her before she did something stupid like text jameson and tell him that she missed him. it was small but she was grateful that her best friend hadn't tried to talk her into anything. she listened to her rant, agreed not to answer the phone for jameson, and immediately set about distracting her.

despite being in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, her mind had nothing but images of jameson. she'd had a spark of hope in her heart that they would possibly figure shit out this time around but it was so damn hard expecting him to do the right thing. listening to his excuses and reasons why it was everyone else's fault but his got exhausting and imani didn't want to hear that shit. she focused on the outfits that she and genie were pulling together for her italian promo tour.

jameson had even gone silent for damn near a day. no calls, no texts. even that pissed her the fuck off. almost as if the thought of him summoned the man, imani felt the phone under her pillow began to vibrate. somehow or another, she knew it was him. she and genie both knew and they ignored the vibrating echoing throughout the room.

a minute passed then genie's phone rang out loud, her gaze darted to imani's before she cleared her throat. "don't answer him, genie." imani said sternly, sitting up in bed. sure enough, she watched as genie swiped her finger across the screen and the phone went silent. for a minute or two, there was total silence between them...before the phone in the suite began to ring.

it felt like a scene out of a horror movie. he just wouldn't leave her alone and imani had had enough. she climbed from the bed and stomped her way through the suite. by the time she made it to the phone, she was practically breathing fire. "hello?!" she answered tersely, ready to curse jameson's ass out but she was greeted with the sound of a friendly front desk clerk.

"buonasera, signorina. i am most sorry to trouble you this evening but i am afraid we have a situation." the voice said, the english heavily accented with italian.

"oh. oh, i'm sorry." imani immediately apologized, guilt pushing her to say more but she was cut off.

"my manager would like to call la polizia but the signore asked for you personally and i thought we should be sure before we did so." the voice continued -- a woman from what imani could tell.

"i don't understand what you saying. call the police? for what?" confusion was written all over her face as imani brought her gaze up from the phone. genie came flying down the hall, phone against her ear and imani got distracted by her. she caught the words "you make my ass hurt!" from genie before the other girl was stomping past her and towards the front door.

"signorina?" "i'm sorry. what did you say?" "signore lucas says that you are expecting him but he cannot remember your room number. if he is inconveniencing you, we will have no problem calling la polizia." "call the cops on signore lucas. do what y’all need to do. i don’t care. thank you!”

imani hung the phone up, hands on her hip as she walked around the empty space. she had no idea where genie had gone but it was probably to save jameson from an italian jail. “that dumb ass nigga really flew his ass to rome.” she muttered to herself. washing her hands of jameson always seemed so complicated but as she decided to take a bath, it felt pretty damn easy.

the only reason genie answered the phone was because imani left the room. it was a betrayal of her best friend, sure, but she wanted to hear an explanation from jameson. probably more than imani did. there was love lost between she and sloane. jameson was practically her brother and she wanted to know what the fuck he was doing with the enemy -- even if he didn't know she was the enemy.

"imani doesn't want to--" "what floor?" "huh?" "what. floor. are. you. on?" jameson asked. "jamie, tell me you didn't come here." "you not gone tell me?" "no!" "okay. that's fine."

he went quiet for a moment before genie heard a knock on the other end of the phone. she heard him introduce himself to a stranger and then ask "is imani in there? she gasped out loud. "jameson, stop that! stop it! you're going to get in trouble."

he didn't say a word to her and she heard him continue to move from one door to the next, asking anybody who opened it the very same question: "is imani in there?"

"stop it!" "are you going to tell me?" "what floor are you on? i'll come get you, damn it." "fifth. i know she likes a view." "oh now you're interested in what she likes?" "i lost her once, genie. i'm not about to lose her again. especially over some shit that's a misunderstanding." "so you weren't on a date with sloane?" "of course not. c'mon. you know sloane! you know she--" "i do. i know her better than you do, jamie. it hurt imani to see those pictures. you weren't doing anything but you have to understand...she's in a very difficult situation with you. she wants to believe you but she's scared. and you don't make the shit any easier." "that's not what i'm trying to do. i--"

"excuse me, sir? are you a guest here?"

genie knew that was no good. she jumped up from her seat, moving through the suite. imani may not want to see him but something had to give before he caused a damn international incident. genie hustled past imani, not even realizing she was still on the phone or what the conversation was. her slippers practically hissed against the floor as she left the suite, took the elevator to the fifth floor, and got there just in time to see security grasping jameson's jacket. a concierge was with them and he seemed flustered by the situation.

jameson's phone was still at his ear but he wasn't talking to genie -- he was cursing. "you need to let my fucking jacket go. wrinkling my shit." he and imani were two peas in a damn pod. "i'm sorry. he's with me." genie did her best not to shout, getting a grasp of jameson's jacket herself. she pulled him in her direction, pleased to see that he stumbled toward her somewhat.

"we've had many complaints, signora." genie nodded her head, yanking jameson in her direction once again. security didn't let go and he didn't stumble this time. instead, jameson pulled his jacket from the other man's hand with the meanest mug on his face. genie knew he was about to say something stupid so she pinched his side before he could. "i understand." genie reassured the two men. "but he's with me. he's my brother. he's just...stupid."

the concierge and security guard glanced at each other -- almost as if they were trying to see if she was right about him. genie prayed jameson would stay quiet. she could feel his stare on the side of her face but kept her gaze on the guard. relief hit her hard with they nodded, a signal that she and jameson could leave. "thank you! thank you so much." genie said graciously, giving both men a smile. jameson let her lead him to the elevators -- her jacket still in his grasp until she pushed the button for the third floor.

finally, genie turned and met his gaze as the elevator doors closed. "hey, stupid."

the past twenty hours had been bullshit. that was the best way to sum it up: bullshit. he was sleep deprived, anxious, and annoyed as fuck but it was finally time to get this shit with imani settled. genie reluctantly lead him to their suite. when she swiped the keycard and pushed the door open, jameson didn't waste time stepping inside.

"hey." jameson turned to see that genie didn't follow him inside. "please get it right this time. i love you both. but i won't forgive you if you break her heart again." before jameson could reassure her, she shut the door and he was left alone with her words.

the suite was quiet, almost eerily so. maybe it was exhaustion settling in his bones but jameson was so damn tired of this shit. he was determined to get shit straight right then. jameson shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it across the back of a couch as he slowly made his way through the space.

his mouth opened to to call out for her but the way she was feeling meant that she might not answer. it wasn't until jameson heard water that he realized she was in the bathroom. he took a deep breath -- and then twisted the knob, surprised that it was unlocked. the further he moved into the room, the hotter it got.

then...there she was. soaking in warm water, covered in bubbles. her head rested against the rim of the tub. she turned her head, opened her eyes, and gave a little scream when she saw him standing there. for a moment, they simply stared at one another. her gaze swept his face, moving up to his hair -- or lack there of. he watched her eyes go wide before she pressed her lips together.

his gaze swept what he could see. her hair pulled up into a messy knot on top of her head. her hands and shoulders were clear of soapy bubbles but everything else was hidden. a wave of desire swept over him but jameson pushed it down -- ignored it and continued to move into the bathroom.

finally, they both found their voices at the exact same time.

"get out!" "i missed you."

imani blinked up at him before he saw the anger take over again. she opened her mouth to say something else but jameson spoke faster. "you got me on a plane halfway around the world, jetlagged as fucked. go ahead and yell. once you get it all out, we can talk about it." jameson took a seat on the floor next to the tub, leaning against the wall.

"i ain't got shit to say to you." "no? you don't want to call me a lying ass, cheating ass nigga? piece of shit? nothing?" "i don't expect you to do right. you never do." "i'm doing right now, imani. nothing happened with her." "i don't give a fuck." "yes you do. you love the fuck out of me. and i love the fuck out of you." "you--" "which is why...i would never fuck up like that again. i was in new york for an interview. sloane called. asked me to come by while she was working some deal. i did. we were there for all of ten minutes. i did nothing but talk about you. then we had lunch. then i left her at her hotel." "i don't care." "you do." "you can't tell me what the fuck i feel." "i can. because i know you."

her frustration built as he calmly refuted each retort. jameson could see it in her face. she was mad as fuck. she sat up straight, pressing her hands to the side of the tub and to get up and he stopped her by placing his hand on top of hers. "don't. finish your bath."

imani glared at him and pulled her hand away -- the movement was slow but full of resentment. it didn't matter that he had flown around the world with nothing in his hands. what mattered was that she was scared. she was angry. and it was his fault. for once, he was at a loss as to what to say to imani. she rose from the water anyway, stepping out of the tub and ignoring him as she wrapped herself in a robe.

jameson watched her silently before taking a deep breath. he got up from the floor and followed her out of the bathroom -- ready for round two.

"good...evening. it is evening in italy, right? the sun is still shining here."

ej answered the phone with a grin, pleased to hear from genie so soon even though he knew why she was calling. it was the first time he'd heard her voice over the phone and it made him smile to know that genie adesanya had called him.

"you tricked me." she said shortly, making him smile.

"no idea what you're talking about, baby. but since you called me -- i take it jamie made it safely." "this isn't about jamie! and stop calling me baby." "yes, ms. adesanya. if this isn't about jamie, what is it about?" "you! you tricked me. you made me tell you what hotel we were at." "jamie already knew! he told me." "liar. he didn't even know what floor we were on. he knocked on random people's doors asking for imani!"

she sounded as if she were pouting and the image of her doing so made ej grin. his best friend's shenanigans were only the cherry on top of the sundae. ej muted the phone, not wanting her to hear him laugh. the last thing he wanted was a lecture.

"okay. fine. i admit it. i tricked you. but i told you...that's my boy." "he almost ended up in an italian jail." "it's nothing. i got money. i coulda got my nigga out." "you're no help. you encourage his worse tendencies." "listen, i don't want him over there. i want him here. finishing his album. but he's stuck on mani. obsessed with the idea of getting it right with her. do i think it's possible? no. i think those two are too alike. something's gonna go wrong. but he's my best friend and i want to support him."

genie was silent for a moment before he heard her softly ask a question. "...you don't think they'll make it?"

ej winced, wishing he hadn't told her that. he didn't want to rain on her optimism. he liked how she seemed to see the best in everything and everybody. "i don't know, g. i hope so but i won't hold my breath over it."

"i think you're wrong." she said, her voice stronger than it had been before. "i think when you love like that -- truly and deeply -- there's nothing you wouldn't do to make it last. i believe him. he wants her back. and he's going to get her because she loves him too."

ej nodded even though she couldn't see him. "i want you to be right, baby." ej heard her snort before she spoke again. "i told you not to call me baby."

a grin spread across his lips as he nodded once again. "yes, ms. adesanya. now where are you? did our best friends kick you out of your room?"

she was flustered and annoyed with him but mostly with herself. having a reaction to jameson was never good. she tried so hard not to show him even a smidgen of feelings and failed every single time. fuck him! this was irritating. imani hadn't expected jameson to be in Italy, much less have the balls to come to her room. she came out of the bathroom looking for the genie and found the other woman gone. she couldn't help but feel somewhat betrayed.

"mani."

jameson followed behind her and imani redirected from the bedroom to the living room. the last thing they needed was to be in a room with a bed while she was naked. "i don't want to hear it, jamie." she said, suddenly exhausted. "we keep trying to make this work but maybe this isn't meant to be."

all they seemed to do was talk in circles, gas each other up, and then boom. reality came crashing down into their optimistic plans. she wasn't going to compete with a woman for jamie again. sloane could have him if she wanted him that damn bad.

"it's like you're not listening to me." jameson replied and imani realized it was true. she didn't want to hear it. she didn't want him to get her hopes up again. "i'm gonna make this shit work because all i've ever wanted is you. i got stupid and let my ego take over before. then i lost you. and i swear the past year has been so hard. i get my life from you, mani. this is where i want to be. don't shut me out. let me prove it."

she stood with her arms folded, glaring at him as he spoke. part of her melted -- just like she had before. she wanted him to fight for her. to prove that what she saw in him before their breakup had been real. but another part of her was sick of the rollercoaster. she wanted to get off it, would kill to be able to feel nothing when she saw him. there was so much she wanted to say but also nothing she could say at the same time.

"it can't be this easy all the time, jamie." she said softly, annoyed at the fact that he seemed to be able to unlock something in her. "you can't give me some bum ass speech every time and think everything is going to be okay because you love me. love isn't always enough and i'm tired of hearing it from you."

jameson moved closer to her, lifting his hands to show her that he was harmless -- as if that were fucking true. "i understand. so tell me. tell me what you need from me. what you need me to show you, baby? i'll do it. anything."

imani looked at him with distrust and confusion. he didn't touch her, he just...stood there with her. his hands were still up, making him appear as if he was trying to calm a scared, wounded animal. "put your hands down." she told him -- and was surprised by how quickly he did it. he didn't argue, he didn't make a joke. he just...did what she told him to. that was interesting. "tell me you're sorry. you said everything except that."

jameson's gaze softened as he nodded his head, realizing that he hadn't apologized for the misunderstanding or invading her privacy. "i'm sorry, baby. i'm so sorry. i shouldn't be here. i should have waited for you to come home. i should have been more considerate about how those pictures would make you feel. i'm sorry."

despite telling him that speeches wouldn't be enough -- imani knew she would relent. she didn't know if she was overreacting or not when it came to sloane. but even if she was...it felt good to hear him validate it. to tell her he was sorry for how he made her feel. instead of thanking him, imani let her gaze linger over his face. "you cut your hair."

jameson looked at her with surprise -- as if he hadn't expected her to acknowledge it right then. "yeah. i did."

"why?" imani asked him, fiddling with the tie that kept her robe closed tightly.

"i'm doing a movie. why do you ask? you like it?" "i guess. makes your ears look bigger." jameson laughed out loud, tsking softly. "okay, i deserved that."

imani gave a small smile, proud of herself for that the joke landed. she hadn't fully forgiven him but she could feel some of her agitation ease. whether that was a good thing or not -- she didn't know but of course, time would tell with jameson.

"...i'm still mad." imani told him, placing her hands against her hips. "don't think i'm not. or that you can just fly to me in the middle of the night and think i'll forgive you."

"i don't think that at all" jameson said softly as he took a step closer to her. imani didn't move away. instead, she dropped her hands, watching as he lifted his hand to press to her hip. "say you're sorry again." she demanded. he repeated the apology, leaning in to seal it with a kiss to her lips -- and imani allowed it. all of a sudden, she got an idea and knew he'd go along with it.

jameson breathed a sigh of relief when she let him kiss him. imani never did anything she didn't want to do. she couldn't be bullied or tricked -- she stood on shit. so jameson knew if she ever fully made up her mind to get rid of him? he was good as gone. he had spent a year trying to get back next to her. he wasn't going to lose that shot.

"eat my pussy"

imani spoke lowly but with conviction. jameson's gaze shot up to meet hers, wondering if he imagined she said the words. but he hadn't. she looked at him, brow raised as if she thought he'd have something to say in response. but he didn't. this is what she needed from him right then. she needed his devotion and his obedience. it wasn't like anything they had done before. usually, jameson was in control -- they both liked it that way. but he kind of liked this too.

jameson reached for the fuzzy tie keeping her robe closed. with one sharp tug, it fell open and exposed her body to him. he could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears as he took her in. her skin was smooth and soft. he could still smell the lavender of her bubble bath. pretty titties sat high with nipples already pointed. he hadn't even touched her yet and she was ready. it wasn't like he hadn't seen her undressed before. he'd had her spread open and calling his name a week ago but every time he got his hands on this girl, he lost his mind.

without hesitation, jameson fell to his knees and began to kiss at her thighs. by the time he lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder, her hands had his ears in a tight grip. he leaned in, mouth open and ready to taste before he felt her jerk his head backward. she almost lost her footing but remained stable as she stopped him from tasting her. "beg me for it."

he didn't waste his time arguing about it. he did what she asked -- and begged. "mani, please. i need you. i sat on a plane for seventeen hours. i don't have shit to wear but what i have on...and i don't give a fuck about any of that. i just want you to cum on my face. i'll make it good for you, baby." he didn't know it worked until she carefully pushed his head forward and wordlessly gave him the go-ahead.

jameson ran his tongue along her lips and up, parting her already wet folds with his tongue. the first touch of his tongue made her let jolt against his shoulder but she didn't stop him. not even when he began to lick, spread, and slurp at what she let rain down into his mouth. jameson hummed softly and happily, his hands finally lifting to grasp her ass. she tasted like water to a man who had been dying of thirst. he wanted to touch her everywhere. imani used his ears, dragging his head back and forth when his tongue swiped against her clit. she whimpered, slumping forward as she ground her hips against his mouth. "g-go back. right there. y-yeah..." she stuttered. his gaze lifted to her face, watching as she nodded her head in time to the way he sucked at her clit. jameson's hands moved down her legs, pushing her to lean further against his face.

eager hands caressed her thigh as his tongue lapped at her juices eagerly. the sound of her heavy breathing mingled with moans filled the room. she arched her back to give him better access while stroking his ears lovingly.

he forgot that they were in the living room of a suite she shared with a woman they considered family. he forgot that she'd had him stressed him for almost twenty-four hours. he even forgot that the genie was coming back to the room soon. all he could see and think about was imani.

jameson wedged his tongue into her, angling it so that it thrust inside her pussy like his fingers would and was rewarded with a long moan from her. imani squirmed, the leg that kept her standing trembling and jameson braced it, taking enough control to angle the woman towards the couch. he did it without taking his tongue from her and was damn proud of himself.

his mouth closed around her clit as she fell to the couch and jameson didn't stop her as she lifted her other leg to his shoulder -- getting a better chance to ride his face. both her legs trembled as he finally pulled his hands from her legs and thrust his index and middle finger into her, twisting and squelching inside her wetness.

imani pulled at his ears so hard that jameson grunted against her, feeling the heat rising -- but he couldn't quite bring himself to give a shit. when she came, it was with a shout of his name and her thick thighs closing around his head. if she had killed him, he would have died happily.

he stroked her down from her release, kissing and petting at the wetness that she left between her thighs and against his face. imani let him, legs going weak as they fell open. for a moment, jameson just watched her try to catch her breath. he didn't get up, he didn't shove his dick in her mouth the way she liked him to. he just...waited. patience was a virtue and he felt like a fucking saint because it took her forever to come back to earth. he kissed her thighs, doing his best to take care of her. and then she spoke again -- her voice slurred with pleasure.

"take your clothes off."

once again, he followed the command with ease. he got up from the floor, kicking off his shoes as he dragged his tongue across his lips. his pants and boxer briefs followed. by the time he'd whipped his shirt over his head, she seemed to come to her senses.

"let me ride you."

she was still giving the commands but jameson noticed her tone go soft. he stood naked in front of her and her eyes were trained on his dick. the attention pleased him and made his length bob. "stop looking at me like that. my dick is already hard enough." he muttered, as she smiled brazenly. he fell to the couch next to her and watched as she climbed onto his lap...reverse cowgirl. she knew he never lasted long that way.

jameson snatched the robe from her body, tossing it across the room. he didn't want any distractions or anything hiding her from him.

her entire body still felt like electricity was running through it. jameson could talk a lot of shit but he always backed it up. that tongue of his was a killer and it never missed when he put it between her legs. if his dick hadn't looked so damn perfect when she told him to strip, she probably would have left him with blue balls. but why fight it? it was pleasure for them both. imani leaned forward, using the fancy coffee table in front of the couch as leverage. with one hand against the expensive oak table and the other around her body -- fingers wrapped around his dick, imani guided him to the right spot. as expected, jameson's groan was louder than her moan.

he slipped into her with ease, her shaking hands didn't have to do too much work. imani worked herself up and down his length, her head dropping to watch their bodies rock against one another. despite the tension between jameson's strong hands pressed to her hips, and circled her hips. he was slowly siphoning control from her and imani didn't want that.

she pushed against the coffee table, sending her body to press to his. the move worked. her back pressed to his chest and jameson immediately brought his hands from her hips to her breasts. imani rocked on his hips, ignoring the way he panted against her ear. his fingertips pinched and pulled at her nipples, his other hand moving to brush against her clit. imani slapped his hand away, turning her head to meet his gaze. "tell me this dick is mine."

he didn't hesitate. he repeated after her, hissing when she lifted her hips and then sent them back down again. his gaze went from her face to down their bodies, watching as he slipped in and out of her. "fuck, baby...it's yours. this your dick." he mumbled, "let me play with my pussy. please." jameson never begged. not usually. but she loved to hear the word 'please' falling from his mouth.

she increased her pace by planting her feet on the ground next to his. with her hands against his thighs, imani began to bounce on his lap. jameson lost sight of her breasts as she lifted up but his fingertips didn't lose muscle memory. they pulled and squeezed as she ride him recklessly. imani tightened over him, her draw dropping from how full she felt. from how good he felt hitting every single sensitive part inside her.

his hips met hers and their syncronized rocking turned into clashing. imani whimpered as jameson dropped his hand from her chest and pulled her leg higher. "fuck me hard." she panted, suddenly just as desperate as he was. their skin was hot against one another, friction in more ways than one. jameson grunted as he went deep -- she took all of him in with a sharp exhale. "fuck yes!" he cried out, feeling her walls squeeze around him. his forehead rested against the back of her neck as imani rode him. she could feel his heated pants against her skin and was shocked that she heard a whimper from the back of his throat.

"don't." she said harshly, shaking her head as she fought the release she felt building. "don't cum until i tell you to." this brought a growl from jameson's mouth. he let her leg go and tugged her back by her hair. imani cried out as he kept her stationary. the hand between her legs moved quickly, strumming at her clit until she squirmed and panted -- fighting off the release. imani shook her head, refusing to let go. jameson knew decided to play dirty.

he pinched her clit, satisfied when she yelped and tightened over his dick. he felt a rush of wet hit and gave a long moan of his own. she gushed around his length, squirting so quickly that neither of them knew what hit them. he kept fucking her, thrusting in and out as she yelled his name and came all over him...and herself...and the couch. she was breathless, disoriented as jameson released her hair. "say it." he muttered.

his hands were at her waist then, bending her forward and bouncing her hard. her eyes crossed and rolled before jameson slapped his hand against her thigh. "say it!" he grunted. imani finally remembered...he was waiting for her. she smiled, proud of herself that he got to suffer a little bit before she placed her hands over his own and used every last bit of energy she had to fuck his release from him. "you can cum, daddy. cum in me."

it took only a second for him to follow through. he reached up to cup her breast. her pussy clenched even tighter around him because of that. his fingers dug into her hips while he thrust harder into her warmth until finally...his entire body tensed. jameson kept her planted on his lap, rocking her back and forth as he finally came inside her with a strangled cry. for a few moments, they were both panting and moaning, lost in the pleasure that had consumed them. imani fell back against him as jameson's hands caressed her sides tenderly. they both started to come down from their high. imani reached for his hands, wrapping them around her body and jameson took the hint. he cuddled against her, stroking and soothing she relaxed more in his arms. the two didn't exchange words but imani knew the truth -- she was back on that rollercoaster ride with him.

she could hear him snoring. genie stared down at her phone with a grin. all she could see was ellington's chin. he had fallen asleep on facetime with her -- something he swore he wouldn't do but he did. he had made her promise not to go back to her shared suite with imani and he made sense. everybody knew how those two were. they'd probably be back in love for breakfast and then on the outs again by lunch but genie wanted them to have space to figure it out.

when she left the hotel bar, she went to the front desk and got her own room. it was much smaller than the suite but not short on comfort. so began her night with ellington. from ten pm (Italian time) until six am -- she had shared her time with ellington dupree. they talked about everything. music, her fashion career, their hobbies. not once did imani and jameson come up. not once did her father come up. it was a miracle.

ellington had never really been in her life. he was jamie's friend. she knew they were close. their bond was unmatched. but she had never gone out of her way to be ellington's friend. watching him doze on his couch while she ordered breakfast for herself indicated that they were...at least becoming friendly. he had a wicked sense of humor and genie was sure that she liked that.

suddenly, her smile dropped and she leaned away from the phone. she liked it. not him. right? she didn't like him. if he was jamie's friend -- practically like a brother -- then that meant they were a lot alike, right? she couldn't deal with a man like jameson. even if they weren't alike, dating within the friend group was messy. she had seen it first hand and didn't want to be apart of it. it took her a minute but she managed to force herself to hang up the phone.

so what she spent almost eight hours on the phone with a man. that didn't mean anything. it did not mean she had a crush on him.