#keep in mind I'm still new to writing ya'll

[callme-holly]

hey! i love your johnny cade fics <3 if you’re still taking requests and you like the idea could you write one where reader is part of the group but is sneaking around with johnny, keeping their new relationship from the gang, but there’s really cute secret smiles/touches/hand holding 🥹 and then maybe one of them is just like, you two really are not subtle, we know about it (i feel like this would be dally😅) thank you 🫶🏼 ps sorry if too specific

𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐍𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 [𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - I'm so sorry for how long this took me to write I had a huge drama exam and things were crazy but I'm back now!! This was super fun to write so I hope ya'll enjoy this and, as always, my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 2.5k words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing !!

0.1 - ‘hey, was that Johnny?’

It’s early evening by the time the gang reach The Nightly Double, with the sun sinking low over the horizon and casting long shadows onto the sidewalk. It’s the first time in a while they've all been able to do something together, something outside of work, or school, or fighting, and most are glad for it. So glad in fact that they hardly noticed they’re two members short.

—

“You want me to get you somethin’?” Johnny mumbles, squeezing your hand gently as you both wander past the concession stand, searching for some seats tucked a little further back and away from prying eyes. 

You hum and glance over to the stand. The line for snacks and drinks isn’t too long; there are only a few people waiting ahead, but you have no doubt that it will be much longer a little later on when the cars of socs start to roll in. 

“Sure, if you don’t mind…” You murmur, turning your attention back to Johnny as he leads you  through the small crowd of people, pausing once you both reach the end of the queue. He shoots you a soft, crooked grin before dropping his head a little to press a quick kiss to your lips. 

“What’d you want?” He asks after he pulls back, and you can’t help but smile warmly, leaning a little into his side as you get closer to the counter. 

“Just a pepsi will do me.” You reply lightly, and he gives a short nod, reaching into his pocket to scrape together enough cash for the drink. 

Noticing this, you frown just a bit, and grab at his forearm to try and stop him. 

“Johnny, I didn't think you meant you'd pay–”

He turns those beautiful, dark eyes back to yours and shakes his head, giving a small shrug. “It's no big deal.” 

“But–” 

“No, really,” He insists quietly as you both reach the counter. “I’ve got it.” 

There’s really no arguing with him, and so, with one last lingering look, you release his arm and watch with a sigh as he orders your drinks and slides the change across the counter. You purse your lips for a moment, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder.

“You didn’t have to do that. I’ve got the money, you know.” 

Johnny only hums in response, pressing a quick kiss to your hair. “It’s fine. I wanted to.” 

He hands you your pepsi, taking your hand in his as you both turn, about to return to your hunt for seats once more, when you notice an all-too-familiar group of greasers standing in line. 

You frown briefly before glancing up at Johnny, who follows your gaze, his eyes widening. 

“Shit…” He’s quick to drop your hand, turning so that his back is to the gang. You follow suit, tucking yourself into Johnny’s side as you both try to blend in with the passing wave of teens around you.

The two of you keep your heads down, keeping your pace as even as possible as you move past the group of boys, their laughter ringing out as they make small jabs at each other. They seem so caught up in whatever is going on around them that you and Johnny manage to slip away without being noticed. Or, at least, you think you do.

—

“Hey, Ponyboy, what the hell are you lookin’ at?” 

Two-bit slams a hand down on the boy’s shoulder, effectively drawing his attention away from the passing crowd and back to the rowdiness of the gang. By now, they have all stopped with their teasing, their eyes not-so-subtly scanning the swarms of people around them.  

Pony shakes his head, scuffing the toe of his shoe into the ground and shrugging. “Ain’t nothin’... Just thought I saw Johnny.” 

Dallas snorts. “Johnny?” He laughs a little incredulously. “The kid swore he ain't comin' out tonight. Said he was busy, man.”

“Well, maybe he lied.” 

Steve raises a brow. “Why would he lie? If he wanted to catch a movie, he would've tagged along with us.” 

Pony’s face twists, and he glances back once more before shaking his head. “Nah, you're right. Guess I'm just seeing stuff, huh?”

Darry places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “It’s all that smoke gettin' to your head.” He teases, and the boy rolls his eyes, shrugging off his brother. 

“Whatever.”

0.2 - ‘you guys are here alone?’  

The diner is packed full; groups of teens are huddled around tables and scattered throughout various booths, most either talking amongst themselves or causing nothing but trouble. 

You and Johnny are tucked away in a booth you had claimed at the very back, the two of you hunched over the tabletop, a plate of fries and two milkshakes sitting between you. Your hands are entwined, and Johnny’s thumb is stroking absently over your knuckles as he watches you talk. His dark eyes shine with nothing but affection, and he can't help but lean in to press a quick kiss to your lips. 

You pause, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you meet his eyes again. 

“What was that for?” 

Johnny shrugs, growing sheepish, as he takes a sip of his milkshake. 

“Just because.” He mumbles softly, looking away again; however, as he does so, he catches sight of something, or rather someone, out the window. “Uh oh…” 

You turn to follow his gaze and sigh inwardly as you see Soda and Steve coming through the doors to the diner, both boys sporting their DX uniforms as they scan the crowds for an empty table. You and Johnny sink low in your seats, doing your best to hide behind your discarded menus, but it's too late. 

“Johnnycake! Y/n!” Soda calls out with a grin and a wave, sauntering up to you and Johnny’s booth, Steve hot on his heels. They both sit themselves down, Steve stealing a couple of fries and shovelling them into his mouth as he does so, before shooting you a bright grin.

“Fancy seeing ya’ll here, huh?” He comments, reaching out to take a sip from your milkshake too, scowling as you slap his hand away. 

“Get your own shake.” You snap irritably, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Don’t you like the company we bring?” Soda grins good-naturedly, and Johnny meets your gaze across the table, offering a small apologetic smile. 

You let out a long breath, feeling annoyance and a little exasperation course through your veins, but you knew better than to send the two greasers on their way. It will only raise suspicion, and that’s the last thing you need right now. You and Johnny are keeping your relationship a secret for a reason, and knowing Steve and his big mouth, you can bet half the town would know by morning. 

You’re broken from your thoughts when Soda leans forward, resting one elbow atop the table, propping up his chin with his free hand.

“Say, where's Dallas? Ain't he with you?”

Johnny shakes his head. “Nah, he’s still sleepin’ off a hangover.”

Soda blinks and then frowns. He tilts his head. “Two-bit?” 

“He ain’t here either.” Johnny replies simply, glancing at you again just as Steve pipes up.

“So, what, you’re both here alone?” 

The question catches you off guard, and you find yourself flushing a little beneath their scrutiny. 

What are they getting at? 

“Well, yeah.” 

Soda and Steve stare at you for a moment, their gazes moving towards Johnny before returning to you once more. They share a knowing glance, and for one fleeting moment, you're afraid they've caught on—that they've finally put two and two together and realised exactly what has been going on between you and Johnny. But then, after another brief moment passes, both boys just shrug, and Steve goes to take another handful of fries, the conversation seemingly forgotten.

You meet Johnny's gaze from across the table once more, offering him a small smile as you both reach for your milkshakes, your fingers brushing lightly. 

Looks like you'll have to wait a little longer for some time alone. 

0.3 -  unwanted company… again

You and Johnny wander aimlessly, your arms linked loosely together as you both pass slowly through the streets. 

It’s quiet out and relatively deserted, only the occasional car trundling past in the opposite direction, headlights flickering against the pair of you as it goes. You cast a sidelong glance at Johnny as he continues to lead the way, his steps leisurely and relaxed. 

There's a light flush to his cheeks from the excessive summer air, his dark bangs falling in front of his eyes and sticking to his forehead. You want nothing more than to stop, to push back the strands, and you just can’t help yourself as you pause and tug him back, your lips brushing softly against his cheek. 

His eyes widen at your action, shooting you a shy smile as your fingers card through his hair, tucking it behind his ears as best you can.

“That's better,” you concede after a moment, pulling back to admire your handy work and smiling fondly when one stray strand falls back into his eyes.  

“Much better,” Johnny nods, linking your fingers together and leading you on once more. “C’mon, we got places to be.” 

That, of course, is a lie. You two aren't doing anything except wasting time, trying to make up for all the moments lost since the incident at the diner. The two of you have managed to avoid any questions from the gang, keeping your interactions limited to quick kisses when nobody is looking and soft smiles from across the room. That is, until today, of course.

Your fingers lace in a loose hold with Johnny’s, your hand fitting neatly into his, as the two of you walk along in silence. It had been tough getting away from the others, even if it was only for a few minutes, and it seemed that, no matter where you went, someone was always there to interrupt the two of you. You'd tried to sneak away to get some privacy, but each time you did, at least one of the guys seemed determined to tag along.

But this time you were lucky. It seemed as though you had managed to get away without anyone finding out and, for once, it was just you and Johnny. 

Or so you thought… 

“Hey!”  Someone shouts from behind you and, almost instinctively, you and Johnny jump apart, trying not to let your panic show as you turn around to see not only Two-bit, but Ponyboy too, running across the street to meet you guys. Johnny’s face drops and you let out a huff as Two slings an arm over your shoulders, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Say, Y/N, whatcha doing hanging out with someone like Johnnycake, huh?” He teases, causing the boy’s cheeks to flush  red.

“Shut up…” He mutters softly, stuffing his hands in his pockets as Pony comes to stand beside him. “What do ya’ll want?” 

Two-bit cocks his brow, a devious smirk spreading across his lips. “Aw, c'mon, is our presence really that unappealing to you?”

Johnny narrows his eyes at his friend, glancing back at you to gauge your reaction. You shrug helplessly, unable to hide your slightly annoyed expression, as the two greasers begin to walk alongside you. 

Another date crashed spectacularly before it had even started… again… and another close call. 

0.4 - a ‘not-so-secret’ secret 

The gang is all gathered in the living room of the Curtis House, scattered about in various states of entertainment, talking amongst one another or watching whatever is playing on the TV. You're perched on the arm of the couch, trying your best to listen to whatever it is the pony is telling you; however, your gaze keeps occasionally drifting to the front door as you wait anxiously for Johnny to show up. 

It's almost seven thirty now, and already a million different thoughts are racing through your mind, ranging from ‘what if’s’ to 'maybe...', but eventually, your curiosity wins out and you can't help but ask.

“Where’s Johnny?” 

Pony pauses mid-story, turning slightly to look at you before casting you a confused glance.

“Huh?”

“I mean…” You wrack your brain for something else to say, a faint blush dusted across your cheeks and making your skin feel clammy. “He hasn't shown up yet, and normally he's one of the first to arrive. I just wondered where he was.” 

There's a small silence, and Ponyboy shrugs, glancing at the door himself, and then back at you. “Dunno. Maybe he couldn't make it. You know how tough things are for him.” 

You sigh softly, biting your bottom lip. A sudden fear grows within you as your mind fills with images of Johnny in various states of hurt or distress. You know, if he wasn't going to come tonight, he would have called at least to let you know. His absence doesn’t bode well. 

“Yeah,” You say quietly, shaking your head as you try to dispel the unpleasant thoughts, glancing around briefly as you realise that everyone has gone quiet at your mention of Johnny. “Yeah, maybe.” 

Pony nods, giving you a reassuring smile, and slowly everyone goes back to their previous tasks, but, despite yourself, the anxiety remains in the pit of your stomach. You keep glancing towards the hallway every few seconds, your heart beating rapidly in your chest and your palms beginning to sweat slightly. 

Your breath hitches at the sound of the screen door opening, your attention snapping to the doorway to find Johnny, his hair dishevelled and clothes rumpled, but otherwise appearing fine. He meets your gaze, and, in a flash, you are up, rushing to greet him. 

The gang all share knowing looks, exchanging amused glances between one another.

Things are really starting to add up… 

“Say, how come I didn’t get no greetin’ like that?” Two-bit feigns offence, placing his hand over his heart as you and Johnny part awkwardly. 

“Well,” You start, clearing your throat, before glancing at Johnny once more. “Um…” You trail off, realising that there's only one way to go with this.

So, taking a deep, steady breath, you step forward and grasp Johnny's hand in your own, squeezing tightly. He returns the gesture with equal intensity, his thumb caressing your knuckles gently.

“We're dating…”  You mumble, barely loud enough for anybody else to hear, although you could swear that the entire group freezes for a beat.

A beat that seems to last forever.

And then:

“We know.”

You turn to look at Dallas, who is lounging across the couch, his legs stretched out before him, a cigarette held loosely between his lips as he regards you calmly and nonchalantly.

“What do you mean you knew?” Johnny asks incredulously. The greaser waves his hand dismissively. 

“Ya’ll aren’t as subtle as you think.” He grins lazily, “Besides, I figured it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

You roll your eyes at Dallas, and instead of voicing a reply, you pull Johnny closer by the hand and lean up for a kiss, ignoring the cheers and shouts that erupt from around you.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[megamindsecretlair]

Mr. Black, Part 6

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (male and fem receiving) , spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, mentions of female anatomy, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre has an unexpected surprise for you that leads to even more conversations about...whatever the hell this is between you. You do end up loving the surprise and you get a bigger peak inside that gorgeous head of his.

Word Count: 10,614k

A/N: I promise not all of my fics will be this long moving forward! This was the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written and it healed something in me LOL. As an update, I had Covid this past week and I'm just getting my strength back. Please be kinder to your faves! I am over the moon that you enjoy my works and look forward to the next chapter, but let's keep it cute. My family are my opps and do not like to see me happy. If ya'll only knew what I had to endure writing this...These updates will take time. And I'm doing this for free! This is a hobby! I'm not a smut machine. Let's stay mindful of that. To prove you actually read this far, put your fave fruit in the comments! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

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The week between Christmas and New Year’s was a lawless haze spent mostly in Tre’s bed. You hadn’t seen your place all week and it should bother you. There was no mention of it. There was no conversation to be had. He just kept inviting you back to his place and you kept saying yes. 

He got you a hygiene kit complete with a Coach bag to put it in. You told him you could just pack something from your place, but he wouldn’t hear of it. You had your very own electric toothbrush sitting on his sink.

Every time you went to the bathroom, you stared at the thing as if it could come alive at any moment. It was a courtesy thing, nothing more. It didn’t mean you were moving in. You were quickly realizing that Tre might’ve lacked proper social skills. With all his big talk, he lacked the cues necessary to clue you into whatever the fuck was going on with him. 

He couldn’t possibly think that he could get you a hygiene kit, keep pajamas over - not that you used them much - and you would just smile and wave and move into his fucking house?! 

The past week, he had kept you in a near-permanent sex fog. He still ate you out at work, stating that he simply liked the taste of you on his tongue while he dealt with the company hemorrhaging money at an alarming rate. He told you that your sweet taste made dealing with idiot managers worth every solid minute.  

He still had you suck him off in the morning, stating that he loved nothing more than pumping you full of him to start your day. He was able to work harder and smarter with empty balls and thoughts of what he was going to do to you later at his place. 

There wasn’t enough time to really talk. There was this burning obsession with each other that didn’t seem to let up as the week went on. Every time you finished having sex, you wanted to crawl under his skin and do it all over again. You couldn’t get him out of your system. In between sex marathons, him cooking, and your conversations about interests, there wasn’t enough time to discuss the whole…headband situation. 

You sat at your desk presently and your eyes kept flickering towards the front of the building. You couldn’t see much past the desks and chairs. The thought of Miss Headband returning made you ill. You were comfortable with the knowledge that Tre was yours in whatever capacity this was, but uncomfortable that Brianna thought she could walk in whenever she wanted.

What stopped any of his other conquests from walking through the door? Or calling you to set up dick appointments with him? You hadn’t been working for him long but you wouldn't be surprised if he had past assistants schedule such things. 

Your nails tapped on your desk. Your jealousy was showing. And it didn’t suit you well to show it at work where anyone could see. You needed to put an end to the uncertainty. If Tre had a black book, he needed to burn it right this second. He wasn’t going to need it anymore. 

Panic was a funny thing. Sometimes, it felt like a bubbling pot of oil sludging through your veins. Sometimes, it felt like a thousand tiny insects with wings fluttering beneath your skin. You felt a mixture of both as you checked your mental status.

Maybe Tre was rubbing off on you too much. Your friends had said you were turning distant lately. You usually told them everything, but how did you even begin to describe what the hell this was? 

It started off as something hot and naughty between you and your boss. Everyone had that fantasy right? Being railed against an office desk until your eyes were crossing and you were screaming in pleasure? 

All your life, you thought there was a schedule and order to these things. You meet a man, you go on a few dates, you explore interests together, and you date some more. You meet the friends and get their stamp of approval. Then it’s the family’s turn. You move in with each other to see if you could cohabit a space together. Perhaps get an animal together to see if you can take care of a living thing as a  precursor to kids. Then, there’s some wholly romantic and unique proposal with the help of your friends or family. A wedding, a honeymoon, boom, pop out some kids and build a life together. 

This was so fuckin’ backwards, you  didn’t know where to start besides him swatting your ass. There have been no dates, just earth-shattering, world-ending orgasms, a few items at his place, and you left in a perpetual state of what-the-fuck? 

Order and schedules made sense to you. It kept you on track. This…was messy as hell. 

You sighed audibly and rubbed your head. It was too much thinking and it was giving you a fuckin’ headache. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You yelped and jumped in your seat. The chair went rolling to the left as you looked to the right to see Tre half sitting on your desk. Where the fuck did he come from?

“You scared the hell outta me!” You placed your hand against your chest to see how fast it was going. 

“Maybe you should stop daydreaming at work,” he said with that damn smirk on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t daydreaming, I was thinking,” you told him.

He sighed audibly and hung his head. “Nothing good ever comes from you overthinking,” he said.

“Shut up. It’s not overthinking. Logic calms me down,” you said.

His smirk returned. “I can think of something else that’ll calm you down,” he said.

“Shh!” You looked around the empty office. It was lunchtime and sunny outside, so everyone went out to the food trucks to take advantage of the warm weather. Still, you had to be cautious from anyone who might overhear. 

You moved to stand up but Tre blocked your path. “Not hungry?” You asked.

Tre smiled and looked off into the distance. He took a few steadying breaths and looked back at you. “Got you on a schedule already,” he said.

Now it was your turn to look away with a goofy grin on your face. His words brought to mind something Brianna mentioned. 

“Hey, what did Brianna mean by 'training me’?” You asked.

“I’ll explain all that. First, let’s go. We’re gonna be late,” he said. 

“Late for what?” You asked. You turned to your computer, bringing up his schedule. The weekend had been blocked out without you noticing. He had no meetings or calls set up. “What is this?” 

You clicked through the change history but Tre put his hand over yours to stop you. “It’s okay, I handled it.” 

“Handled it? I’m the one that handles your schedule! When did you do this?” You asked. You literally had one job and you were too distracted this week to notice that he had been shuffling and moving things around. 

You tried to picture him being sneaky and dealing with other assistants while he moved meetings. You pictured getting a random call from someone with a voice like his. A voice made for phone sex and your panties were already growing damp thinking about it. Yeah, he could finagle his way through just about anything if he had half a mind. 

“Come on!” He grinned and pulled you from your seat. You had just enough time to grab your purse. He held your hand as he pulled you through the empty office. Panic jumbled your nerves. Instead of pulling you to the front of the building where the food trucks were, he pulled you to the back of the building.

You knew there was a back of the building, conceptually, but you didn’t know there was an entrance this way. You were hired in the mix of things and you didn’t get an official tour before diving in and picking up the slack. 

There was nobody back here as he swiped his badge and you were let out into a parking lot. It was small, filled with only a few expensive cars. 

“You have a private parking area? Ya’ll suck,” you giggled. 

Tre tugged you towards his car. You weren’t good with car brands but you were pretty sure it was a Lexus SUV. He opened the door for you and motioned for you to get in. 

“What about my car?” You asked.

“I took care of it,” he said with that damn smile. 

“What the hell is going on?” You asked. You placed your hands on your hips and faced him completely. 

Instead of answering, Tre looked at his watch. “You have about two minutes before the other managers pull in and see you hopping in my car. I’m sure they will have thoughts about it,” he said.

Your fear of being discovered was greater than your need for knowledge. You could needle him in the car. You hopped inside with his help and then he closed the door with instructions to put your seatbelt on. You rolled your eyes and did it, not because he said so, but because it was sensible. 

Tre rounded the front of the black truck and hopped in himself. He sighed with a smug smile on his face and started the car. His windows were tinted well past the legal limit. But you had a feeling he just didn’t give a shit. 

He pulled out of the parking lot just as a smaller sedan was pulling in. You sank down in the seat but Tre only chuckled at you. Clear of the parking lot, he swiftly pulled onto the freeway.

“Okay, I’m in the car. What the hell is going on?” 

“You know, you’re cute as hell when you’re confused. You get a little crinkle in your nose,” he said. He sped up on the mostly clear freeway and you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“You’re not going to tell me no matter how many times I ask, huh?” You asked.

He grinned and flicked his eyes to you. “Look at you catching on,” he said.

You growled and folded your arms across your chest. You turned away from him as much as you could in the seat and looked outside the window at the passing cars and freeway signs. You could tell that you were heading North but anything could be North. 

“I promise you’ll like the surprise,” he said.

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on,” you said.

“I know. I’ll break you of that,” he said.

“Excuse me?” You flipped your head to look at him but he kept his eyes trained on the road. One hand was on the steering wheel and he slowly inched his other hand towards your thigh. He squeezed the bare skin, his pinkie lightly grazing your pink dress. 

You hated that your body reacted instantly. Your pussy fluttered and you were going to be damp in a minute thinking about that hand and all the nasty things he’s done so far. 

“I don’t repeat myself,” he said. 

You could be petty and point out that he’s repeated some things to you. But if he wanted to keep up his little fantasy, you weren’t going to cure him of it. As much as you liked to test his boundaries, you still had handprints on your ass from the last time you tried to get cute. 

You focused on just being able to breathe while his thumb rubbed your left thigh. Soft music played in the car, low enough to not be annoying, but high enough to get the general rhythm. 

The sights turned more industrial as you headed towards…LAX? Was he taking you to the fucking airport? 

He got off the ramp for it, circling around, and headed towards the entrance on Century. He joined the congested traffic as he took the ramp to departures. 

You huffed in disbelief. “You have to be joking. Where are we going? I haven’t packed, I haven’t got any supplies, I haven’t told anyone. I can’t–” 

“I had a lovely chat with your friend, Ka’ron, the other day. She’s a little mad you didn’t tell her about me. I’ll admit, I was a little hurt too,” he said. He talked as he maneuvered around the insane traffic at LAX. It was like people lost all sense of decorum at the airport. People weaved in and out with little regard to who was behind or beside them. They had no idea which terminal to get to or realize that they couldn’t park at the curb forever.

Buses and shuttles ran through the inner road of the airport. You still hated that they changed the flow of traffic. It seemed much more dangerous to have you stand at the outer curb to be picked up. And the construction for the incoming train was plain annoying. 

“You talked to Ka’ron?!” You screeched. Too many questions flowed through your head. How did he get her number? What did he even tell her? What the hell was this? 

“I told her that I wanted to surprise you with a trip and after she got done laughing at the surprise part, she helped me pack your bags this week.” 

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your friend was going to murder you. After she got done begging for every last scrap of detail she could get out of you, she was going to murder you for not telling her sooner. 

“You have crossed so many–” 

“I also bought you new travel bags. I didn’t care that they didn’t match, but they were really raggedy,” he said. He pulled into long-term parking, grabbing a ticket from the kiosk, and the metal arm raised. He pulled in and began the search for a good spot. 

Gurgles of sounds escaped your throat but you couldn’t form a single sentence. Were you having a heart attack? Aneurysm? Were your blood vessels popping at this very instant? 

“She helped me find your passport,” he said. He turned and backed into the parking space.

In the middle of your meltdown, you could appreciate the slip of skin at his neck as he looked backwards to park. It was somehow hotter that he didn’t solely rely on the back-up camera. You’d dreamt of that open collar enough times to call yourself a stalker at this point. 

“Passport?!” Where the hell was he taking you? You weren’t going to say no to a free fucking trip. You weren’t that dumb. It was…the lack of consideration that bugged you. The fact that he’d been planning and plotting while he had you twisted up in all kinds of shapes no human body was meant to be contorted into. 

Or perhaps…it was a control thing. You were without an anchor or foothold in this. You didn’t see this coming at all. You had no say over where you were going, when you were leaving, when your friends would know about him, what they would know about him, what you would wear, or do. It was beyond unnerving. 

Tre shut off the car and got out, leaving no room for you to ask a thousand questions. You were still in your office attire for fuck’s sake? Not the most comfortable traveling outfit. There was no way in hell you were going through TSA in fucking heels. 

He rounded the car and opened your door for you, letting you out with a smug wink. He really didn’t see anything wrong with whisking you off to some exotic place without a conversation first. Had there been even a tiny ounce of communication beforehand, you wouldn’t be quite so shocked and pissed. 

Next, Tre went to the trunk and lifted the door, pulling out a rose gold London Fog suitcase and a complementary Coach duffle bag. Your mouth dropped open. It was so gorgeous, you drooled a bit as he pulled out his own black suitcase and duffle bag. He moved both to the side and then handed you a more personal bag.

“Move your things from your purse to that. We’ll put your purse in the trunk,” he said. You stared at him like he was some alien with four heads. 

He smiled and stepped closer to you, pulling you by the hips flush against him. You refused to give him any indication that this shit was okay. But he kissed your forehead, then your cheek, and pecked your lips. 

“Trust me. It’ll be good,” he said. 

You pressed your lips together and decided to surrender for the time being. Your boss…lover…boyfriend…was taking you somewhere and you didn’t have to lift a finger. There were worse arguments to be had. 

The personal bag looked like a smaller version of the duffle. You ran your hands over the soft fabric filled with tiny C’s and then opened it. Inside, there was your Kindle, various meds you may need, head scarf, sleep mask, and ear pods. There was also a brand new matching wallet that you transferred your ID and cards to. This whole thing was absurd but you let yourself enjoy it. 

Once done, he took your purse and placed it in the trunk in an innocuous box and closed it. “We’ll change in the lounge,” he said.

Your eyes bugged out again but he wasn’t going to answer a single fucking question so you let him grab your bags and walked over to the bridge connecting you to the terminal. There, he wheeled your bags to the check in counter. He pulled out both of your passports and handed them over to the agent.

She was an attractive Black woman with her hair pulled into a bun. She openly ogled your man so you moved next to him and peered over his shoulder. “Make sure I have the window seat, baby. You know I like to look outside when we take off,” you said and grinned at him, not looking at the woman at all.

Tre smirked down at you. He placed his hand on the small of your back and leaned down to kiss your cheek and then whispered in your ear. “You’re so sexy when you’re jealous.” 

The woman cleared her throat and finished taking the necessary steps to check in your suitcases with a much better, more professional attitude. You made sure to smile and thank her while he grabbed your duffle bags and personal bag from the counter. He scooped up your passports and tickets and tucked them into his bag. Then, he grabbed your hand and you moved on to the security line.

Getting through that was a headache all on its own, but once through, Tre pulled you towards a lounge. You knew they existed, you just never had the luxury of being inside one. It was quiet with muted lighting and a bar area where people sat for drinks and the latest game on TV. 

As he said, there were bathrooms and he told you there was a travel outfit in your bag. You stood in the fancy bathroom, half-giggling like a madwoman as you changed out of your dress into more comfortable clothing. You now had on black leggings, tennis shoes, a loose gray shirt, and a light gray sweater. That had been most of the bulk in your duffle, so you had room to fold up your dress. The heels were a bit of a problem, but that was okay. If they got messed up, you were making him buy you a new pair. And you’d only feel slightly guilty about it. 

After dressing, you went out into the lounge area. You skipped over Tre twice, not because you didn’t recognize him, but because you were surprised to see him outside of formal wear. Sure, you’d seen him lounge at home in his briefs, or the pajamas he wore to cook, but you had never seen him out and about in his element.

He wore black, of course, but it was a black Henley T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black jeans, black boots, and his glasses. He looked good enough to fucking eat and you had to stop just outside the door to admire how hot he was.

He was looking down at his phone so he hadn’t seen you walk out. But as if you were linked, he looked up at that moment and grinned. You walked over to the bar area and he grabbed your bags from you.

He grabbed your hands and opened them so he could take in your outfit. “You look so fucking gorgeous,” he said. 

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you said. 

He held out the bar stool for you and helped you settle in. There was already a strawberry margarita sitting there for you and you sipped it, letting the frozen treat relax you. “Our plane leaves in an hour so you have time to finish,” he said.

“Any hint to where we’re going?” You asked.

He shrugged and sipped on his whiskey. “You’ll see at the gate,” he said.

“The only thing you can’t hide from me,” you said.

He grinned. “I could if I really wanted to. Make you wear your earphones the whole trip.” 

“I can see the board,” you said. 

“Not if I didn’t want you to,” he said.

You threw up your hands. “You know how insane this is right? Calling my friend, planning this behind my back, ambushing me in the middle of the work day? Where do people think you are?” 

“I am on my way to a conference for potential clients. Since I’m such an awesome boss, I gave you the weekend to spend with your family,” he said.

“No one’s going to buy that,” you said with a giggle. You wouldn’t buy that shit if you heard it. 

“They have no proof to the contrary. I know my methods are off, but I know a few ways you can thank me on the plane. I always wanted to join the mile high club,” he said and eyed your outfit. “Maybe we should’ve gone with something easier to take off.”

You slapped his thick arm. “Not on your life,” you said. The tips of your ears burned just thinking of it. Those tiny ass bathrooms ensured there was no way two people could fit. And you were not sucking him off in first class. He was too damn big for any other seating. 

He chuckled and sipped more of his drink. You talked more with him pointedly ignoring your questions until he looked at his watch. He grinned, that wide smile melting your insides, as he grabbed your things and took your hand.

The casual way he touched you, openly, in the airport where everyone was anonymous was a balm to your spirit. You didn’t know you needed this…validation of the two of you. You didn’t care what people thought of you to the extent that you were together. You were more concerned about office politics. If you wanted to be taken seriously, you couldn’t let the office gossips think you were sleeping your way to the top. 

Out in the open like this, you felt excited to be the one holding his hand while he guided you through the chaos of the airport. He walked leisurely to your gate. You frantically searched the boards for destinations. These were all domestic flights to the East Coast. Atlanta, New York, Chicago…

He stopped at a gate going to Miami. You eyed him as he took up a place near the gate. They were beginning to call for your group. 

“Now boarding first class to Jamaica, with a stop in Miami. Now boarding…” 

“Jamaica?!” You whispered to him and he grinned down at you. 

He squeezed your hand as he moved you in line, handing the agent your tickets, and then pulling you down the tunnel. You had no room to talk as he placed your bags in the overhead bin and you settled into the nicer seats in first class. For once, your big ass fit comfortably in the seat with enough foot room to swing your feet. 

Shit, after flying like this, you might have to do it all the time and leave your friends in economy. You were all going to the same place, you didn’t have to sit next to each other. The flight attendant asked if you wanted a drink as more people got onboard. You accepted a tequila neat and settled into your seat, wiping everything down with cleanser wipes you found in your personal bag. Your girl really fucking knew you.

“Bougie looks good on you,” he said as he watched you. 

“Shut up! I’m gonna enjoy the fuck out of this. When are we coming back?” You asked.

“Tuesday night,” he said. 

You couldn’t help looking outside, looking at the people who passed. You didn’t want to contain your excitement. As the boarding ended and the plane began to taxi down the runway, Tre settled in his seat and tapped your arm to get your attention.

“Why haven’t you told your friends about us?” He asked.

He wanted to discuss that now? “And say what? ‘Hey guys, what’s new with me? Well, my boss has been blowing my back out for the past few weeks?’” You whispered so everybody in first class wouldn’t hear your business.

He scrunched up his face. “It’s not official until your friends know. And I’m not just your boss,” he said. 

You threw up your hands. “What else am I supposed to call you?” 

“Your boyfriend?” Tre asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Boyfriend! That’s what you are?” You asked. 

The captain started speaking about preparing for liftoff, so you were spared a few moments as the flight attendants came around to collect trash and remind you about the trays. 

The plane took off and Tre never stopped looking at you. As it ascended, he leaned in so he could be heard over the roar of the engines and mounting pressure. 

“That’s exactly what I am. And I want you to tell them about me,” he said. 

You looked at him. He was serious about this shit. You didn't know what to say or what to call him. You guessed it was the logical step after declaring “you’re mine” while hopping on his dick. You licked your lips and nodded. “You’re my boyfriend. I’ll tell them when we land,” you said. 

He smiled and sat back in his seat as if it had been eating at him. The tension left his shoulders. When the plane leveled out, the flight attendants came around with warm peanuts and drinks. You got some water to balance the drinks you’d had. 

The plane ride to Miami was comfortable now that Tre decided to relax. You were able to joke with him about the book he chose to read while you whipped out your Kindle and awkwardly told him about the filthy book you were reading. You had a brief layover once you got to Miami. You collected shot glasses for your friends. 

The plane ride to Jamaica was smooth. You were flying into the night but the sight as you descended still stole your breath. The water was a mix of cerulean and true blue, with scores of seaweed you could see from the plane. The island didn’t look all that big flying overhead, but the hills were wide and varied in height. 

The plane had to turn to land into the small ass runway and you were half concerned as the captain easily guided the plane onto it. You rolled into the gate and Tre helped bring your bags down. 

The airport itself smelled like Shea butter and breezy sandy beaches and you inhaled deeply. You had traveled all over the world at this point with your girls. Hitting up spots in Europe and Mexico, but there was something so amazing about landing in a place with people that looked like you.

Everywhere you went, there was another Black face to greet you. There were fans up high blowing hot wind at you but to you, it was perfect. As you got off the plane, there was a man standing there with Tre’s name. He walked you past the long line to the left for regular people.

That line was long and looked unbearably hot as people stood there trying to get through customs. You assumed the young man was a driver with his company shirt and shorts on. You never saw anything like it. He guided you through the lane to the right, going down a ramp, and turning into a much shorter customs line. The agent at the gate checked in your passports, stamping them, asking routine questions.

Through, the driver stood off to the side while you waited for the bags. There were gorgeous Jamaican women with red outfits on helping people find their carousel and telling you to settle in for a long wait because they were slow. 

The accents were the best part. It sounded like coming home. A deep, ancient knowing made you feel at home here than you ever did in the States. Tre grabbed your bags from the carousel since they came out among the first bags. The driver took it from him and led you out of the busy airport.

There were just…Black people everywhere. For once, you didn’t feel like an oddball out when you traveled. Seeing Black faces was the norm. The driver took you through the final screening, handing over a form Tre filled out while on the plane. Then, you were out of the baggage claim area where even more people congregated. Bus drivers were trying to find people to scoop up, taxi drivers did the same, and there were so many guides waving signs for tours.

Outside, the air was balmy but comfortable and the driver led you to his car. There was nothing fancy about it, but you climbed in all the same while Tre talked with him. Then you were off.

You had to keep pinching yourself. Jamaica was gorgeous. The rolling grassy hills were interrupted by pockets of communities. You passed by signs of colonization. Plazas, houses, Popeyes. You giggled and pointed it out to Tre who just smiled like you were the most adorable thing on the planet.

It still blew your mind that he wanted to be your boyfriend. It seemed so high school the way you felt about it. But it felt right so you decided to go with the flow. By the time you made it to the adults only resort, you were absolutely tired. Tre told you to sit in the waiting area while he handled everything. 

In no time, you were showering in your suite still pinching yourself that this was actually happening. You had dinner, buffet style, and enjoyed part of that evening’s entertainment. There was live music and a dancing troupe that you half paid attention to. Now, you just wanted to crawl into bed but you still had so many questions.

You let Tre see your text message as you texted your friends that you arrived safely with your boyfriend. You had landed and your phone dinged immediately upon turning on. Ka’ron told your entire friend group that not only were you getting regular dick, you had been whisked away on a fancy trip on some real movie type shit. 

But Tre didn’t look satisfied with what you said. So you made him take a photo with you with the amazing view in the background. You confirmed that he was a sex god and you would give all the nasty details when you got back. He was much happier about the photo and asked you to send it to him. 

He was so…domestic and it was freaking you the fuck out. You didn’t have the energy to bombard him with millions of questions. He tucked you into bed and then you were drifting off to sleep, trying to remember everything you wanted to ask him. 

The next day, after breakfast, you took a look around the resort and everything it had to offer. There were multiple pools and a small beach area where you could go and relax. The resort had towels and pool equipment for you, but it was tied to your room number. If you didn’t return it when you were done, then it would be charged to your room. 

Ka’ron didn’t steer you wrong with the outfits she chose for the trip. All light, lounge wear that fit easily over skimpy bathing suits your friends made you buy. You had no intention of actually wearing them. But that was all she packed and the look on Tre’s face was worth it.

He was content to walk around like everything was fine, but your questions were burning you from the inside out. Worse than the damn sun. This was their milder season so you knew it could have been much, much worse. But the UV index was much higher so you stayed spraying on your sunscreen. 

You held hands and stopped at some of the gift shop areas spread around. There was an ice cream shop that sold coffee and meat pies. You got ice cream while Tre went for coffee. But his entire focus was on you licking your spoon.

You began to do it deliberately slowly, licking every inch. You put the end in your mouth and slowly withdrew it while keeping your eyes on him. Your body heated up from the way his eyes were trained on your lips. He caught every movement and swipe of your tongue across your lips to lick it up.

Tre grabbed your ice cream cup and threw it away. “Hey! I wasn’t finished!” You complained.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he said. The ice cream was “free” due to the all-inclusiveness of the resort package but you weren’t going to split hairs. Here, you and Tre were always on the same page. 

Your body responded to him like it had never done in the past with previous lovers. You felt him on a cellular level as your swimsuit grew damp from your arousal. He pulled you to the elevator and your room, barely opening the door before pulling you inside and slamming you up against the door. 

His lips crashed into yours, desperate and needy. Moans escaped you even as his beard tickled your face. You just wanted more. You pulled at his shirt and pants, undressing him just as he undressed you. He turned you around, pressing your chest against the door. He kissed your neck as he untied your top and lowered your bottoms. 

Your chest was still pressed to the door so your top didn’t fall just yet. Tre’s warm hand on your back prevented you from moving. He stepped closer and you felt the heat of his chest scald your back.

You trembled in the doorway. You wanted to see him and touch him too. But he only slipped his right hand around your hips to spread your pussy lips apart. You hissed as his fingers connected with your clit.

You felt him smile against your neck. “Already wet for me, little one?” 

Your head thumped against the door as he worked your wetness around your clit, diving into your pussy to gather more of your arousal and spread it around. He toyed with your clit, rolling around his fingers, and flicking it just the way you liked.

“Oh, shit, Sir,” you moaned against the door. Your cheek was pressed against it as he rubbed his erection against your ass. He nibbled on your ear, licking away any hints of pain. His left hand came up to grab your titty. He finally let the fabric fall as he pinched and rolled your nipple in time with his fingers on your clit.

“I want the neighbors next door to hear you screaming and call the front desk,” he whispered in your ear. 

Pinpricks of arousal traveled up and down your body. You could barely stay standing as that particular image flashed in your mind. “I want you to explain that it was just some enthusiastic play time and nothing to be concerned about.”

Your moans were pathetic and whiny as you raised up on tip toes trying to escape his fingers. But he only pressed into you further, pressing you against the cold door. You scratched at the wooden door. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to help you as you cried out and the orgasm ripped through you like a thunderstorm. You were whipped about in a frenzy as the power of it stole your breath away. 

You cried as you calmed down. Tre withdrew his fingers and panted against your neck as if he had just gotten done fucking you. He audibly smacked his lips as he tasted you on his fingers and moaned as he licked every last digit. 

He roughly turned you again, slamming his lips against yours in a brutal kiss. You took control, kissing him and pushing at his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at you as you dropped to your knees.

His dick twitched as you palmed him, running your fingers over him once before opening your mouth and sucking him inside. You licked him just like you did that ice cream spoon. Slowly and sensually and maintaining eye contact. He groaned, licked his lips.

“Oh, that’s how we doing it?” He asked. He sat back against the wall and you adjusted with him. Then you continued teasing him and sucking him into your mouth. You played with his balls and he moaned low in his throat. You rolled them with one hand while keeping your other hand braced against his thigh.

You licked him, running your tongue across his tip. “Mm, suck me down,” he said. But you ignored him, continuing to kiss your way up and down his shaft. He chuckles were stuttered and he shook his head.

“I’ll remember this when it’s your turn,” he promised darkly. You knew he was going to pay you back when you started teasing him. But you just liked the sound of him moaning for you even more. You sucked him all the way down, trying to fit as much of him in your mouth as you could. Then you started sucking on him like he liked. Rough, bruising, bullying your mouth with his dick.

“Unf, that’s it. That’s it right there,” he coached while he threw his head back and groaned. He released himself and you swallowed every drop. He took a few deep breaths before picking you up and bringing you to the bed. He spread your legs apart and looked his fill at your dripping pussy. 

“Wait! Fuck!” You didn’t need a break but you did need a tiny breather. You had been out in the sun all day walking and enjoying the day. But the feral gleam in that man’s eyes had you slightly worried that you were in danger.

“Tre,” you said, trying to get a handle on yourself. It wasn’t normal to want to throw common sense through the window and have him fuck your brains out. Right? 

“The fuck did you just call me?” He asked. His deep, rough voice turned even darker as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He slapped your pussy and you reared up, trying to scoot away from him.

He slapped it a few more times, each one stinging more than the last. The sting gave way to a burning coil of heat that had you moaning and moving your hips for more. You hated that he turned you into exactly what you didn’t want to be, a sex doll. Well, hell, there were worse things to be while underneath him. 

You stammered as you tried to think past the unbridled lust and need. 

“What’s my name?” He asked. He landed another smack against your pussy. You only grew more wet. The wet slaps were getting louder and filthier and he noticed. He didn’t wait long for you to respond before continuing to slap at your pussy until your legs were shaking.

“S-Sir,” you moaned. 

“What is it?” He asked. He tilted his head and you looked at him through that sex fog you’d grown accustomed to this past week. You could barely think of your answer, let alone make your mouth move, as he slammed two fingers inside you. 

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. Your hands gripped and let go of the sheets around you on the king sized bed. He pumped the fingers in and out of you, moving them around to feel every inch of your soaked walls. You moaned and whined, your needy sounds somehow turning you on even more. 

“What’s my name, little one?” You asked. 

“Sir! Sir!” You yelled out, cried out, in time for your orgasm to kick in, making you shiver in time with the frost from the AC. You shook, out of control, thighs trembling and knees buckling. If you were standing, you’d have collapsed to the floor. 

Tre scooted in, making sure your legs couldn’t close. “Remember our safe word?” 

You nodded dumbly. “Candy cane,” you muttered.

He dropped his head to your belly, placing soft kisses there. “Only you can turn me into a fucking animal,” he whispered against your skin. You giggled as he continued to attack your plump belly with kisses. 

He licked the swell of your breasts and moaned at your taste. You reached out and grabbed his dick, played with the precum between your bodies. He moaned and ground his hips into you, rocking with every swipe. You flicked your thumb across the tip, flicking all that pre against the tip of his dick. He sighed and groaned under your touch, latching on to your nipple and suckling you.

It began to dry up so he pulled away and dropped to his knees. “Please, Sir. I need you,” you said.

He took off his glasses and tossed them onto the bed. You grabbed them and placed them on your chest to keep them safe. There was a bite of cold from the metal but it quickly warmed. You didn’t want to get lost gripping the white sheets in desperation and accidentally crush them. Tre watched the movement and his eyes turned darker still, a thousand yard stare entering his gaze. 

Sweat gathered at his brow, rolling down the side of his sweet ebony skin and sliding into his beard. His breathing was erratic as he lowered against your pussy lips and drew your legs over his shoulders. 

His fingers dug into a deep massage of the back of your thighs as he nosed through your wet slit. You bit your lip and gyrated your hips, unable to control yourself from moving. He suckled one of your pussy lips into his mouth, pulling to the point of pain and you cried out. 

You had no idea how you were going to survive another one but you weren’t going to tap out. You needed him just as badly as he needed you. Needed this. This was the only time you felt like you were on the same page. The only time you felt connected, mind to mind. 

He moaned, inhaling your scent and swiping his tongue out. You were still so sensitive from your earlier orgasms that you twitched with every pass. The massage on your thighs already had your back arching off of the bed, but when he finally dived in and wrapped his sexy lips around your clit, you were crying out and clutching his head. 

“Oh shit!” You moaned. This was different. This was him trying to prove something. Or earn something. He suckled on you, hard, pulling waves of pleasure from you and making you whine and groan and scream to the sky. Perhaps he would get his wish and the front desk would be calling you any minute, asking if everything was okay.

No, everything was not fucking okay. You were getting the life sucked out of you and it was bordering on painful. It felt too fucking good as he licked and moaned his way in between your legs. His tongue speared in and out of you, mimicking how he was going to fuck you. One of his hands disappeared from your thighs and you felt him groan and tug on himself. 

“That’s my job, you know,” you managed to breathe out.

He huffed against your pussy, rolling his tongue around your clit in small, tight circles that made your eyes cross. His tugs grew rougher and you panted to get enough oxygen to form a thought.

“That’s mine,” you said before succumbing to another orgasm. This was brutal and unforgiving. It blinded and deafened you. Sweat gathered everywhere. Pooled in the crevices of your skin. Your thighs locked his head in and he kept going, kept working his jaw to wring every last bit of it out of you. 

Your knuckles hurt from clutching the sheets so hard as you came and came, wave upon wave of pleasure soaking the sheets beneath you. Tre licked up everything you gushed out. You twitched with every pass, too overstimulated. 

Your cry was small and weak and he finally stopped, kissing up your thighs and over your belly. His hands roamed your body, touching every inch he could. He rubbed feeling back into your limbs, anchoring you in place and bringing you back to the world of the living. 

Your essence dripped nastily from his beard and he swiped a hand down to work it in. “I like when you get possessive. You said this was yours?” Tre stood over you, peering down at you. He tugged on his thick erection and it jerked as you struggled to your elbows to hold yourself up. 

It looked fucking painful the way it strained away from him, veiny, and begging for you. You licked your lips. Fuck, you wanted to taste him. Wanted him to feel just as good as he made you. 

“Mine,” you huffed out. 

He swiped his hand through your slopping juices and coated his dick with it, rubbing himself and groaning as he looked into your eyes. “One day, I’ma paint your belly with my cum and see how many paintings I can make.” 

Your pussy clenched sharply and you moaned at the mental image. You needed him to do that, like right now. Something on your face made him grin and huff a laugh. He gripped your legs and tugged you closer, ass half-hanging off the bed. 

“I like the idea of stuffing you more. Fucking my cum into you and painting your insides with everything I can give you,” his rubbed the top of your thighs and your hips. His hands were always deliciously callused and it worked at turning your body into jelly. 

“I want everything,” you said. You gave him puppy eyes as your voice turned soft and girly, small with need. 

His hand went to your face as he leaned over you. Your sweaty bodies rubbed together and you moaned, pulling him closer by his hips. He watched you rub against him, grabbing his ass with one hand and pulling him into you.

Your head was deliciously empty. You were operating on basic instinct. You just wanted him inside of you. You just wanted to be connected to him. Claimed by him. He moved his hips, rubbing his fat dick against your folds. You were trying to move him inside of you but he was too big for all of that. He’d have to be guided in. 

“You want this dick, little one?” He asked. 

The pet name was like a dose of dopamine that traveled from your brain to the tips of your toes. It relaxed you further, making you smile goofily at him. 

“I want that dick, Sir,” you moaned. 

He pulled you by the chin for a sweet, tender kiss that made your eyes water. He used his other hand to guide him inside you. That was anything but tender. He shoved inside and your mouth dropped open.

He groaned as he looked at you and began to pump his hips at a fast, punishing pace. You couldn’t breathe. You would probably pass out in a second. Your mouth flopped like a fish as he found a spot deep inside you already. You felt full and connected just like you wanted, getting closer to him every time he was inside you.

“Breathe, little one. I don’t want you passing out on me,” he said against your lips. He kissed you as if to give you the very breath you desperately needed. You gasped and sucked in as much air as you could while he was currently stealing it from your body.

Fuck, you felt electric. On top of the world. You felt like you could do anything now that he was inside you. You rolled your head, unable to choose a position to hold and keep it. He felt too fucking good pumping into you. 

Your arms trembled from trying to hold yourself up but it was important to you to stay like this. Stay close like this. Your head was bent towards his. His lips were pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks. You returned his sweet kisses so at odds with how he was fucking you.

And make no mistake, this was pure, animalistic fucking. He was rutting inside of you. “Fuck,” he moaned. “Feel so fucking good.” 

You clenched around his dick. His moans made you greedy for more. You felt invincible. Power drunk. You rendered a powerful man like him speechless and sloppy as his hips jerked against you. 

He stopped to adjust himself, lifting one of your legs higher and then he set to work again. You grabbed his forearms and held on, looking into each other’s eyes, as your moans matched. Your face started to contort with a rising orgasm.

“Mhm, let that shit go. Let me feel you flooding this dick. Get that dick wet for me,” he cooed. 

“Sir, Sir,” you moaned. Your nails dug into his arms as you leaned your head back and it finally overtook you. “Ouue, fuuuuck, babbyyy,” you moaned as you came. Your body convulsed on his dick, flooding him just the way he wanted with your slick.

“Fuck, I feel it. Feelin’ that shit,” he groaned. He hung his head as you closed your eyes. Stars exploded behind your eyes. You closed them tightly, trying to survive this. Trying to survive him and his body. 

His own orgasm was ripped from him, soaking you in his cum. You felt it pulsing inside of you, pumping load after load. His hips still snapped inside of you, fucking it even deeper. You held on, your head against the bed and flopping from side to side as you cried and moaned, shaking on his dick.

Tre panted and groaned, his hips slowing down. Fuck, you were definitely going to feel this shit later. He dropped against your shoulder, off to the side and careful to avoid his glasses on your chest. He licked and kissed on your neck as he panted and recovered.

You messily sucked in air. He’d already seen you in a bonnet and shower cap, you were out of dignities to spare. You massaged the back of his neck while he laid there. He groaned, tension leaving his body in visible waves. 

He softened inside of you and slowly pulled out. He leaned back into standing, so he could open your legs and watch his cum spill out. He licked his lips as if he still wanted to play with you but you were both too fucking tired to do anything but huff and look towards the ceiling. 

He flopped beside you, wiping sweat from his brow. You yawned, but he told you not to fall asleep.

Not to fall asleep? How could you not? Your poor vagina was begging you for a break and he wasn’t giving an inch. 

You heard him flittering around the suite. You distantly heard water running and then he was running a warm towel between your legs. You hissed at the contact, the soreness, the desperation finally leaving your bones for the time being.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered as he cleaned you up. He disappeared again and then he was back, picking you up and scooting you further up the bed. Somehow, he produced a tray of fresh fruit and made you sit up to eat and drink the water that was also on the tray.

“Where did this come from?” You asked.

“I sent for it while I was cleaning myself off. I think you dozed off,” he said. He had a proud grin on his face and you rolled your eyes. Yes, yes, we all knew he was a sex god capabale of fucking you to sleep. 

You nodded and opened your mouth while he popped a strawberry in. The fruit was delicious and refreshing after something so intense. The last thing you wanted was to eat or drink. But he pointed out that you needed something besides your light breakfast and ice cream. 

You were sitting against the headboard, letting the coolness ease your feverish skin. Your legs were tucked in and he closed the distance, sitting as close as possible to you while staying in front of you.

“I owe you some answers. But first, I want to say that this was an apology trip and fucking,” he said.

“Apology?” Shit, you really couldn’t think. Your thoughts were…nonexistent. 

“I owe you an apology for not letting Brianna know that we were done. That she couldn’t just walk into the office whenever she felt like anymore. We ran in the same circles and shared the same tastes. I like my women to be a little submissive in the bedroom. Tying them up, controlling their orgasms, the whole bit. That’s what she meant by training. She thought I trained you to call me, Sir.” 

He hadn’t, not really. It was a default to call your bosses Ma’am or Sir or whatever they preferred to be called unless they gave you permission to call them by their name. A holdover from your old school grandparents to teach you manners. Tre terrified you in the beginning, you had honestly been too afraid to call him anything else. 

He told you more about how he usually got with his women. He found that he was into the whole scene life from his time experimenting in college. He didn’t “do” relationships. In every sense of the word, you were his first real relationship. He was so focused on getting things together, he skipped over a dozen or so steps and just wanted you by his side. 

It was…sweet and started to answer a lot of fucking questions about him. 

“I knew that I fucked up with the Brianna thing, I heard how she was speaking to you. We spent the lunch hour talking about how we were over whether she liked it or not. She kept asking what made you so special. And I just kept telling her everything. Everything made you special.” 

Your eyes were starting to tear up so you bit your lip to keep from making them fall. He was being so damn sweet and open, it was tearing you to pieces. 

He looked away, looked down at your legs. His hands idly rubbed your calf as he talked more. “I knew I needed to make it up to you beyond just saying sorry or taking you to dinner. I needed you to know I’m serious,” he said.

You reached out and caressed his cheek, tugging on his beard. “Trust me, I know you’re serious,” you said with a giggle. 

He shook his head. “I know I ambushed you with this. But there’s still so much I don’t know about you. I heard you talking to Ka’ron one day and knew she was the main one to ask about this. When she said she never heard of me, I will admit, that hurt.” 

He said as much back at the airport. You dropped your hand to his, to the one drawing circles on your calf. You squeezed his hand and looked into his open, brown eyes. “I’m not ashamed of you. I didn’t know how to explain it. You’re still my boss,” you said.

“I’m not just your boss,” he said. 

“No, but…sometimes you push forward and there’s never a conversation in between. Like you decide all these things in this…relationship but you don’t tell it to me. You leave ‘me’ out of the relationship and that’s no way to be together. I need that conversation to ground me. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I can’t help it. It feels like I’m always trying to gauge whether you have one foot in or one foot out. I feel like…I have to catch you by surprise,” he said.

That was fair. You had a history of running and being scared. You were constantly running from situations that were too real, too honest. You hated that you weren’t always seen as the “fun, uncomplicated” girlfriend. When guys pushed for more, you were the first out of the door and onto the next one. Over and over, ready to bolt at the first sign of something being real. 

“I am in. I am yours. I am not going anywhere,” you said. “I promise to talk to you first if I ever feel like bolting. But that’s just it! I don’t feel like bolting with you.” 

You still felt panicked sometimes, like you couldn’t breathe with the mounting pressure and knowledge that all of this could come crashing down on your head. That everyone would find out and snicker and laugh you out of the office. That Tre would realize that he was dating someone so far beneath his league, it was laughable. 

“I feel like you’re going to realize we’re not on the same level,” you admitted.

“We’re not. You’re so far out of my league, I don’t know why you’re here,” he said.

You looked at him, waiting for him to laugh or yell, “Gotcha!” It never came. He was fucking serious. The realization made you look at him like he was crazy. 

“Get the fuck out,” you said and shook your head, laughing. 

“I’m very serious,” he said. You felt like you knew him by now. He didn’t “do” humor that much either. He made you laugh and you had fun watching comedy specials together, but for the most part, he was deadly serious. 

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met. You’re smart, funny, and you can talk about so much shit I never heard about. I feel like I have to shower you with gifts and trips to make you like me,” he said. 

You pushed at his chest. “You’re so full of shit and I’m not falling for it. I’m not after your money!” 

“I know,” he said with that shit-eating grin you’re so fond of. “I check the statements. You haven’t used my card once. What’s up with that?” 

You threw up your hands. “Did Brianna ever get a card?” You asked. You couldn’t look at him while you asked that question. You didn’t want to compare yourself to Lil’ Miss Headband but you needed to know. 

“You are the only one I’ve ever trusted my money to,” he said. He brought your hand to his lips. 

You sighed quietly, loving to hear that. You’d just about die if it turned out that he gave every little woman he slept with a card. 

“Sounds like we’re both harboring shit instead of talking,” you said. 

He nodded. “We promised honesty from here on out, yeah?” He asked.

You nodded, popping a grape into your mouth. “Total honesty. No matter how scared we are or how much it hurts.” 

Tre sucked his teeth and fought you for a piece of cheese. “Ain’t nobody scared,” he said. 

You laughed and called him a liar and continued to talk a few things out. He didn’t mind reassuring you over and over that you were the only one he’d really been with. You still found it hard to believe, you had eyes. 

His ego needed no stroking as he confirmed that there were always women after him but it was hard to tell if they wanted him or his money. He had no problem treating his lady, but when it was expected and not appreciated, it got old fast. You respected it. You’d still have a hard time believing it though. 

You spent the rest of the weekend, much more relaxed that you didn’t have the weight of Brianna hanging over your head. You were able to swim and venture out into Jamaica to a local shopping place with women selling wares. A lot of it was the same thing from stall to stall and you felt bad having to tell a lot of them no. Tre was patient and let you get however many souvenirs you wanted for your friends. 

You spent New Year’s with him inside of you, making you beg for mercy until your voice gave out and your body quaked. You got your kiss at midnight. It was sloppy and wet and perfect. 

Unfortunately, you had to return home to a million calls from your friends and family. Cat was out of the bag officially. You made sure that Tre knew it was all his fault to which he only grinned and asked which house you were visiting first. But now that you were back in sunny California, a pit gnawed in your belly.

You didn’t know how to broach the subject. You had planned to tell him when you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off last week, but then the trip threw you for a loop. 

He brought you to your place, after you had to practically grab the steering wheel and make him drive you to your place and not his. You made sure he knew that you weren’t trying to leave him, you just had things to check on and he was perfectly capable of coming to your place. Unless he’d spontaneously burst into hives from not sleeping on black sheets. Traveling was a fluke, the rules didn’t apply while on vacation. 

“Oh, we got jokes,” he said and grinned on the way to your place. “I’ll remember that tomorrow.” He kept that evil grin on his face and you shuddered to think of what he had planned while you clenched your thighs together.

At your place, you stopped him from getting out of the car with a hand on his. He looked at you, growing more and more concerned as he looked at your face. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I don’t know how to just blurt this out,” you said. Your leg bounced in your seat. Your street was quiet for once, no one outside to distract you.

“Hey, total honesty.” 

You nodded. “I was going to tell you last week but…” You took a deep breath and then closed your eyes. Rip that bandaid off.

“Someone’s stealing a shit ton of money from the company.”

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

[kitchenlittle]

I want to make a little PSA and warning about future content being posted to my page very soon. I will not stand for the slander of writers who choose to write about Miles Morales due to popularity of the movies. Let me make something clear since it seems there are many fake Marvel Fans out there who know nothing about the universes. THERE ARE UNIVERSES WHERE MILES IS ALREADY AN ADULT.

Earth-8 comes to mind where Miles is LITTERALY a full grown MAN MARRIED TO GWEN STACY and they have 2 CHILDREN TOGETHER. Their names are Charlotte and Max Morales. LOOK IT UP IF YOU DONT BELIEVE.

Every universe has a differing age/look from the Miles Morales we see in the movies and know why? BECAUSE THERE IS DARN NEAR THOUSAND IF NOT INFINITE universes of Miles. SO YES. There is a universe with events just like the movie with slight differences and Miles over the age of 18. So litteraly any story about about Miles would litteraly be cannon in someway!

Just like how we can have a Adult Peter Parkers like in the movie exist at the same time as underage Peter Parkers like Tom Holland's. Or should I say," -Dr. Strange and the little nerd on Earth 199999 (AKA Tom Holland)"~Miguel O'hara. And if you were paying attention to the movies you'd know that Miles cannonly exist in live-action human form. Uncle Aaron played by musician and actor childish gamebino mentions he has a nephew who wants to protect to Spiderman. You see that same prowler Childish Gambino Uncle Aaron captured in the new movie. He was captured by Hobie Brown and locked uo as anamoly needing to be sent back to his universe. Meaning that Adult Miles can exist at the same time as kid Miles!

NOT ONLY THAT. But here is some hyprocracy I have found. THE ANIME FANDOM. The most popular characters in the anime are 15- 16. FROM Deku and Bakugou FROM MY HERO, to Luffy FROM ONEPEICE, to Sukuna/Yuji from JUJITSU KAISEN and many many more. Most main characters are highschool age. HOW IS IT? That they can age up charecter that alot of times we will never see 18 or older and write a fanfic sometimes while the charecter in the story is still 15-16 and get a away with it. But Miles Morales authors go out their way to age him up before they even write it and litteraly aren't wrong since their are universe where he is older, are weirdos and pe***. I don't see some anime writers doing that? Make it make sense?

I PERSONALLY DONT EVEN WRITE FOR FOR CHARECTERS THAT DONT HAVE A CANON ADULT VERSION OF THEM AVAILABLE FROM THE OG CREATORS IN MEDIA. Guess who fits the criteria? MILES MORALES.

A message for my unsure authors out there.

~So for all my writers not their scared to post their fics. Label it Earth-8 Miles who is a father and husband to Gwen and say it's a headcannon of what ps happend he's 18-25 before he got married if you feel that weird about it.

Some of ya'll are fake fans who completely missed the point of the movie and it's implications. Don't come in my DMs telling me to take anything down because I'm not. You will be blocked and locked out of interacting with my page. And if you feel uncomfortable block me. Just know if you block you will be missing out of 50+ fics I've been working on 18+ characters for about a year now and will be posting starting in July. It's littersly an event I've been working on called the 'Lemon Fest', since it's my birthday month.

Once again every charcter I write about had a cannon adult version of them made by the creators or is already an adult. I was going to keep this a secret by I've gotta protect my fellow authors especially if they are being wrongly targeted. Wanna get mad? Wanna get angry at some authors? Get mad at the ones the ones that write about you favorite anime charecters that are likely 15-16 then ask them to delete it...oh wait...you won't.. because if done that would litteraly be deleting 3/4 of the fanfiction written on this site.

[pokechbi]

I love your writing so much!! I was wondering if you could write about könig and ghost finding out that y/n is a couple years older than them! How would they react? If you’re not taking requests feel free to ignore this!!! Thank you!!

Hi ♡ Anon ♡ !!! Tysm !!! I'm so glad you love my writing. Thank you for the very unique idea !! I was so lost at how to even go about this at first but once i started i literally could not stop! So ty! Ya'll are bringing me out of my writers funk fr im so so grateful 💗

JSYK: I know zilch about military stuff so forgive me for any inaccuracies!

WC: 1.1K ♡

Enjoy 🎀

♡Konig & Ghost find out you're a few years older than them...♡

König

During the time that the KorTacs and T141 had joined forces, you had gotten pretty comfortable around the newcomers. Specifically one big, mountain of a man named König. He was a no-nonsense man when it came to his work, but aside from his duties he fared to be a pretty decent friend that you often hung around in your free time. You often asked him about his life in the military, learning many skills of the trade since he was a Colonel, and you had only managed to grow yourself to second lieutenant, the lowest commissioned officer rank.

While you were on the topic of years spent in the army, somehow your ages came into play and while he was still protective of revealing his exact age to anyone, he lead you on with the fact that he was in his mid-thirties. You were no priss, so talking about your age was something you didn't mind. When you revealed to him that you were a few years older than him over lunch, he paused, taking in your new revelation.

"You're older than me? How can that be? You look so...young" He trails off, stabbing at his lunch with his fork. You glanced at him, a surprised look on your face as you chuckled. He wasn't the kind of man to give out compliments very often, so it scratched a new itch hearing him use them on you. "Well thank you, that's very kind of you, König" She replied, her eyes darting from his eyes to the table.

"You carry yourself very well. Physically and emotionally, so I guess it's no surprise that you're older than some of us." He continues, his German accent thick on some words more than others. You smile at him as you blush slightly, waiting for him to finish chewing so he can continue speaking. "There's a quote, by the German novelist Franz Kafka. Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old." He clears his throat. "So...never stop seeing your beauty, I guess." He pauses after speaking, standing suddenly as he walks away from the table, striding towards the door before you could begin to reply.

You knew his social anxiety had caused him to distance himself from people sometimes, but you had no idea why he was still anxious near you after all the time you'd spent together. You were only just friends, right?...Right?

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost was fond of you, unlike some of his other unit members of T141. He admired the way you carried yourself on the field, possessing a natural leadership instinct that he had worked endlessly, for years to attain. He envied you at times. He envied your ability to take risks without much thoughts of consequences, and you always trusted your gut. Which 100% of the time proved to be right. He knew it was some weird woman's instinct that always overpowered him. It sometimes embarrassed him when you outdid him mentally, standing your ground and showing him who's boss in front of his soldiers. While you were still under his command, he saw you as his right hand woman, always by his side to have his back when he needed you.

The team had just finished a debriefing for the new upcoming mission that you all were set to leave for in a few days time. You reeled at the information that was revealed, running your hands over your face in frustration. He sat by your side, trying to cheer you up with his sarcastic jokes and self-deprecative witticisms. Ignoring him, you shook your head as you flipped through the classified files once more.

"In all of my 37 years of living, I haven't come across a terrorist quite like him. Jesus." You sigh, standing to your feet as you begin to pace the room.

"Excuse me?" He stood suddenly, pacing over to you slowly. Your neck cranes as he approaches you, towering over you like a building. You hated when he did this. You placed a hand on his chest, trying to push him backwards. "Come on, Simon. Back up. You know I hate when you do that." You say frustrated, your hand meeting his hard chest as you swallow hard. He doesn't budge, staring down into your eyes as he bores a hole into your very soul.

"Never mind that." He disregards her demand, stepping closer to her. "You're...older than me? Since when?" He asks in disbelief.

You chuckle at him, the smile falling from your face as you realized that he wasn't making one of his stupid jokes. "Yeah... so? What's wrong with that?" You say, crossing your arms over your chest, causing your breasts to perk up the slightest bit. His eyes slyly graze over your covered cleavage under your tight black turtleneck, so quickly you wouldn't have caught it if you blinked. Realizing what he was staring at caused your stomach to flutter, your gaze shying away from his as you drop your arms to your sides. You were alone in the room now, the silence thickening the air between the two of you and making it hard to breathe.

"Uhh... No. Nothing's wrong with that, it's just..." He trails off, ending his sentence with a chuckle. "It's just that what, Simon?!" You press, raising your voice at him the slightest bit. Your blossoming friendship with him was on the line, and you gave him a stare that read: choose your next words carefully, boy.

"It's just that...It explains a lot. How you've always been so... confident. So right about everything. I get where that's all coming from now." He chuckles softly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, scratching under the hem of his balaclava. "Trust me, I like it more than you know." He finishes.

You smile at him slightly and nod your head, suddenly understanding why Simon had favored you all this time, the puzzle pieces all fitting together now. You realized that he liked the fact that you acted older than him. Your usual feminine maturity making him feel secured in his team. You made him feel confident in his actions, as long as he was by your side. There also might have been another reason he wasn't upset at all at this news, and that was because Simon "Ghost" Riley, had a thing for being controlled by a woman in power.

There was now a clear cut reason he'd tag along next to you in his free time more than usual, asking for your advice on career-altering and mission-making decisions. He trusted you, more than a friend, more than his soldier. He trusted you as his woman, even if you didn't know you were his yet.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 12: Welcome to the Shit Show Baby

Note: ...Heyyy...how ya'll doin? I know it's been a minute, I apologize. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. I want to address the fact that this story is not over, I was worried my absence would give that impression, but there's still a lot that still needs to happen lol. As always, I'm thankful for all of the love and support. You guys are so sweet and make writing even more fun. Speaking of ya'll, not you guys saying yes on her behalf, damn, it's been 3 months, lol. Next chapter should be out at some point this weekend, meanwhile I hope ya'll enjoy <3 (also keep an eye out this weekend bc I'll be announcing new characters I'm gonna write for along with some sneak peaks, spoiler, one of them is my return to JJ.)

Warnings: Sexual content, explicit content, MDNI (FR FR don't make this shit weird)

Charlotte's Wedding Dress That's Not Really a Wedding Dress:

Charlotte's Hair and Veil:

Lip Being Hot in His Suit:

The Flowers :') :

Charlotte’s mouth opens and closes a couple times, no words making it out. She stares at her boyfriend, waiting for him to crack a smile, or say, ‘m’just fuckin’ kiddin’ and pull off to drive them home. Minutes pass as she watches the clock on the car tick, the changing numbers taunt her as she tries to find her words. Unfortunately, all she lets out is a breathy laugh. 

“Marryin’ me is funny?” Lip asks, cocking his head back to observe her. Charlotte places a hand on her rapidly rising and falling chest. 

“Not really, but I’m trying to see if you’re being funny.”

“M’fuckin’ serious.” he deadpans. 

“But…3 months, Phillip.” 

He shrugs, pressing another kiss to her hand. “Good enough for me. You?”

“I…” she’s shocked by the thought that crosses her mind. Good enough for me too. “But you’re not even down on one knee. And you’re asking me in front of your ex's house or party or whatever..” Charlotte pouts.

Lip’s eyes widen at that, glancing back toward the house because, well, that shit is true. “Yikes.” he chuckles at himself. “Yeah that’s pretty fucked up.” 

“Only a little.”

“If I was on one knee, and we weren’t here, would you say yes? I don’t have a nice ring, but that’ll be the first thing I’d get you-” He rambles for a moment, stopping at the sight in front of him. Charlotte’s laying her head on the headrest, big brown eyes still shining with tears, staring at him dreamily with an uneasy smile on her face. His heart felt like it good fuckin’ bust out of his chest. He’d had people look at him before. With lust, hate, even love, but the way she was looking at him right now, he could finally see what Monica saw. Like he’d hung the moon and stars. He would. If she’d keep looking at him like that. But right now, he’d settle for getting her pretty voice to give him a yes. Lip turns off the car light and puts the car into drive, speeding down the road, ignoring her questions of ‘where are we going?’ ‘What just happened?’ his leg that isn’t controlling the pedals jumping up and down as he anxiously weaves them through traffic. He drives to the only grocery store he thinks will be open and hops out of the car, running in and locking the car.

Charlotte sits in the passenger seat confused as ever. She feels high. This is crazy. She’s never done anything like this before. And when would she? Why would she? She’s 19. Won’t be 20 for another week. She’s known Phillip for 3 months. That’s how long she talked to her ex before becoming his girlfriend. Her parents don’t even know him yet. How could she agree to this?

But, how could she say no? She loves him. She’s known that almost since meeting him. She loves being around him, feeling him brings her comfort, happiness. Watching his smile reach his beautiful blue eyes makes her feel like she’d won some kind of reward. She wants to be his family. Forever. She…she wants to marry him. She guesses that nothing else fucking matters.

He comes running back with something in his hands. Charlotte squints as she tries to lean closer to the window to see. The back seat door swings open and an out of breath Lip places something inside. “Don’t turn around.”

“Wha-why? What’d you get?”

“Just-” he closes the door, getting into the driver’s side. “Listen, alright? It’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

She does.

It’s about 3 am when the car rolls to a stop again. Somehow, Charlotte had managed to fall asleep, cocked back in the seat with her head against the window, Lip’s hand on her thigh covered by both of her hands. As he pulls to a stop he squeezes her a little, gently jostling her awake. “Hi, baby,” he says softly. “We’re here.” 

She yawns, arching her back a little as she stretches, wrapping Lip’s suit jacket tighter around herself. “Where’s here?” she says groggily. 

“You’ll see, c’mon, sweetheart.” 

The couple gets out of the car, and Lip guides a staggering Charlotte to their destination. As they near it, he reaches over, guiding her head down, using her hair to cover her face. “Uh, try not to look up, bunny, hide your face.”

Charlotte shuffles her feet, following his instructions with a whine. “Aww, Phillip, are we doing something illegal?”

“Uh…no.”

“That means yes.” she huffs. She stares down at the ground as she hears the sound of clanking. She knows he’s picking some kind of lock. The metal clanks to the ground and Lip continues to guide her.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart, imma find the lights.” He says, voice getting further. “Don’t hurt yourself, just stay there ‘til m’back.”

The sounds of water starting to flow and fans blowing begin as the room turns light behind her eyelids. Charlotte feels his large, strong hands smooth their way down her arms before grabbing her hands. “Can I open now?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, baby you can open.” 

Charlotte opens her eyes to see that they’re in a lit room with a glass ceiling. Beautiful plants surrounding them all over, flowers, trees, the works. Fountains are spaced out among the plants, mimicking nature, water trickling from them. Lights sparkle as they hang from the ceiling and in front of her is what she could only believe is the love of her life, holding a bouquet of flowers, trying to kick the little sign that said ‘Sweet 16’ that he’d plucked off behind him. “Where are we?”

“It’s uh, the Garfield Park Conservatory. I’d read about it before, and I knew I wanted to take you here…but they’re obviously closed right now. And I didn’t want people in our fucking business. And uh…pickin’ locks is free.” he jokes, letting out a wet chuckle.

“You know when we’re married you’re gonna have to slow down on doing things that’ll get you arrested.” She manages something between a laugh and a sob. Charlotte already knows she must look insane with the amount she’s cried in the past few hours. She takes one of her hands back trying to wipe her face and comb her fingers through her hair.

“You look beautiful, Charlotte.” Lip says, commanding her full attention with the intensity in his eyes. “And I love you, more than I’ve ever managed to love anyone or anything. I really, really didn’t think I was capable of feeling like this. Or having someone as good as you. And I’m gonna fuck it up, like all the time. But m’askin’ you to marry me anyway.”

“Yes.” she whispers, not even getting a second to finish before he’s dropping her flowers and snatching her into his arms. She cups his face and closes the distance between them and meets him in an intense kiss. “I love you.” she smiles against his lips.

“Love you.” He says between pecks. When they finally give each other some air, Lip turns her and starts guiding her to the door, grabbing her flowers on the way, tickling her and whispering jokes in her ear as they go. “Alright, you agreed, that shit is binding. I gotta get you to the courthouse before you change your mind.”

Judge Hanes is very well acquainted with the Gallagher family. He’s overseen many of their legal proceedings in both juvenile and adult court. And once, Frank Gallagher had pissed on his brand new Porsche after he’d awarded the man’s opponent restitution. So to say he was aggravated to find the eldest Gallagher boy in front of the courthouse, asleep on a bench with a young lady under his arm, is an understatement. He stops in front of the pair with a heavy sigh and an already forming headache. “Phillip Gallagher.”

The young man opens his eyes, squinting before his lips spread into a smug smile. “Mornin’ Keith.”

“It’s Judge Hanes to you, boy.”

The girl next to him stirs awake, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. “Good morning, Judge Hanes. Nice to meet you. I’m Charlotte.” She looks about his middle-daughter’s age, pretty, clean-cut. He couldn’t imagine why she was here with Lip Gallagher.

“Nice to meet you too, dear. What’s got you at this old courthouse this early? Child support enforcement?” He cuts his eyes back to Lip. “A protective order?”

“No, I feel perfectly safe, with my fiancé, actually.” The blond snarks, pulling the girl to him and kissing her temple. “We came to get married. Looks like you’re gonna marry us.”

Well he’ll be damned. Keith Hanes never thought he’d see the day. He almost believes this is some kind of grift. A scam he’s running on this poor girl. But from the look in Gallagher’s eyes, even Keith could see this was legit. He almost feels bad for what he has to tell them. “No can do.”

“What?” Charlotte looks to Lip.

“Why the fuck not? I mean it-isn’t it like your civic duty or some shit?”

Keith cocks his head challenging Lip's tone. “Thought you were supposed to be the smart one Gallagher.”

“Yeah, well, I’m more into the sciences, so I haven’t taken much time to learn the inner workings of your crooked ass system-”

“Phillip, please.” Charlotte interjects, placing her hand on his chest. Keith is surprised to see that it actually calms the boy, making him intertwine their fingers and quieting down. “Sir, we really wanna get married. We came all of the way here, and we love each other so much, it’s really important to us. Please.”

Keith sighs, looking down at a sweet little pout that reminded him so much of his own children. “I really am sorry kids. Courthouse is closed today, only doing jury trials because the clerks are rotating. No peace orders, divorce hearings or marriages. I can write you two up a certificate myself, but beyond that, I suggest you try a church and hope they’re willing to do it today.”

He watches as the couple looks at each other somberly. Charlotte rests her cheek on Lip’s shoulder, disappointment evident on their faces. Keith watches them share their disappointment and notices how they comfort each other. The girl smoothing her hand up and down his arm, the boy murmuring against the crown of her head, ‘if not today, then tomorrow.’ This isn’t the Lip Gallagher who’s been in and out of his courthouse. He’d absently thought that it had been a while since he’d been in trouble and now he could see why. He could applaud him for allowing love to turn his life around. 

“I am about to be very kind this morning, please do not make me regret it.” Keith unlocks the doors and looks back at the pair. “Don’t tell your siblings I did this, I know your brood likes to marry every other week.” 

“Sure won’t, sir.” 

“And don’t screw this up, pretty young ladies like this don’t fall out of the sky.” 

“Yeah we don’t.” Charlotte jokes, pushing Lip with her hip, his only response being rolling his eyes and dragging her to him. 

“Alright alright, follow me.”

And Charlotte plans to, she really does. But for some reason, when Judge Hanes and Lip go to move, her feet remain planted on the cobblestone steps of the courthouse, her lack of movement pulling Lip to a stop by their intertwined fingers. “Babe?”

The woman breathes deeply as she looks up the steps. Being with Lip means a lot of things. Fun, passion, anger, joy, adventure, risk, love and family. How could they do this without their family? “Your Honorableness-” she begins.

Judge Hanes shares a glance with Lip who shakes his head, encouraging him to keep quiet. 

“If we came back in a couple of hours with our family, would you still be here? I…we need them. Please?” 

Well..Keith didn’t feel like watching his grandson lose his soccer game again anyway. “Four hours to get your…clan together. Then I’m going home.” 

“Yay! Thank you!” She chirps, bouncing on her feet a little before throwing her arms around the older man, beaming at him before running down the steps back to the car. Lip places his hands in his pockets, watching her run excitedly with a soft smile on his face.

He tenses when he feels a heavy arm over his shoulders, a rough hand patting his arm. “Prove me wrong, Mr. Gallagher.” Judge Hanes says. “This may be something good. Try not to fuck it up.”

“I uh, I won’t.”

“Good morning Liam.” Charlotte hums, smoothing her hand over the little boy’s cheek. “Guess what?”

“Lottie!” he coos as she lifts him out of his toddler bed into her arms. He giggles as she bounces him on her hip. She and Lip had rushed back to the Gallagher house, thrumming with energy. Everyone would have to get on board for this wedding quickly because of the time crunch and they decided to make it feel as ceremonial as possible with the circumstances. Lip changed out of the suit he was wearing into the one he’d worn at one of Fiona’s attempts at marriage. Charlotte kept the bouquet he’d offered her in the car and quietly snuck into Kev and V’s house, rifling through her bags and producing a white dress she’d brought. It wasn’t a wedding dress but it’d do. 

In the interest of time and not getting their idea immediately shot down, they decided to start collecting the younger Gallagher siblings first. “We’ve got a big surprise.” she mumbles against his cheek, kissing it over and over as she walks through the hall. She bumps into Lip who catches her by the waist, leaning down, blowing a raspberry into Liam’s other cheek. 

“You ready?”

Charlotte nods and Lip knocks on Debbie’s bedroom door before opening it. The redheaded girl is splayed out on her bed, blankets half kicked off, snoring lightly. Lip eases into the room, sitting on the bed next to her, shaking her softly. “Hey, Debs.”

“Hm.” she rolls a little, squinting up at him. “What? What time is it?”

“Uh, it’s about 8.” 

“And why are you bothering me?” She groans, kicking her feet at his stomach.

“Deb’s watch it, don’t get it dirty.” Lip says, catching her foot.

The younger girl frowns, opening her eyes fully and taking in her brother’s appearance. “Why the hell are you wearing that?” When he laughs and looks behind him she follows his gaze to the doorway. “Charlotte, you look so pretty! Can I borrow that dress?”

“Sure, Debbie.” the woman smiles, coming into the room to join them. “But right now, we need to ask you a question. How would you feel about getting another sister?”

“Damn it, Frank knocked someone up?”

“No, jesus, Debs, m’gonna marry Charlotte. Today. And we want you to be in it.”

Debbie all but shoves Lip out of the way, hugging Charlotte tightly before grabbing the hand that isn’t holding Liam. “Help me pick out a dress?”

Carl was less enthused by the whole idea. Dangling the concept of Charlotte being his sister was less appealing to him and he ultimately refused to come until Lip promised him some illegal fireworks that he hadn’t been able to score on his own. 

Ian and Mickey had been the most fun to tell. Lip barged into their room, earning a groan from Ian and a loud grumble of ‘what the fuck?’ from Mickey. The couple stared at Lip and Charlotte, taking in their attire.

“What the fuck do you two idiots have on?” Mickey asks, wiping his face. He locks eyes with the woman, raising his eyebrows for a moment before his lips spread into a wide smile that matches her own. “Oh, shit! C’mere you crazy bitch.” He’s out of the bed and picking her up, hoisting her over his shoulder as she squeals and giggles. “What the hell kind of pussy have you been puttin’ on him?”

“Shit.” Ian echoes, pulling his brother into a tight hug. “Congratulations man, seriously. When…?”

“Today, get your suit on, motherfucker.” 

“Shit!” Ian beams, clapping a hand on Lip’s back.

“You see this shit, Red?” Mickey calls back to his boyfriend. “The bar is fuckin’ high, even your shithead brother is puttin’ a ring on it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ian snorts, his arm still around Lip’s neck, keeping him close. “M’workin’ on it.”

“My ass.”

The group is so wrapped in their celebration they don’t even hear a tired Fiona make her way into the doorway. Sleep on her face, still clad in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear, she stands prepared to curse them from waking her when she’d just worked the night shift. The brunette’s eyes widen as she takes in the scene in front of her. Charlotte, wearing a white dress, tossed over Mickey’s shoulder. Lip is wearing his best suit (he only has two that he rotates for weddings, jobs and funerals), lighting a blunt, the good shit they keep for graduations and when Monica leaves. Ian buttoning his dress shirt. Fuck. She thinks, crossing her arms. “Pregnant?”

Lip straightens, blunt still hanging from his mouth. “No.”

“And you’re sure?” she asks. “Both of you?” 

“Yes.” Charlotte responds, offering Fiona a hesitant smile as Mickey puts her down. She goes over to Lip, slipping her hand into his. “So sure.”

Fiona rolls her eyes to the ceiling, whispering, ‘fuck’ under her breath before leaving the room. Lip clenches his jaw, looking away, taking a deep drag of the blunt as Charlotte rubs his arm, and Ian pats his back. He and Fiona fight like cats and dogs, but she’s his big sister. She’s supported him through everything, he’d thought she’d support him through this. 

Moments later Fiona returns, tugging a blue dress down her legs and holding something white in her hands. She silently makes her way over to Charlotte, lifting what Lip and Ian recognized as her veil she never fully got to use, clipping it to the top of Charlotte’s head. “There. Now, you look like a bride. A sexy Vegas bride, but a bride. And I better be a bridesmaid.” Lip tugs his sister into a hug, making her stumble, rubbing her back. 

“Um, thanks.” he says into her shoulder.

She sniffs in response, pushing him off. “Yeah, yeah, let me hit that blunt, this is gonna be a shit show.”

Once everyone’s dressed, the group makes their way next door, Lip and Charlotte stand in front of the door, ringing the bell because she did have her keys, the only thing in her hands being the flowers he’d given her. 

“Yeah, I’m comin’!” Kev yells through the door, pushing it open and eyes bulging at the sight in front of him. “Holy shit. V!”

“What?” she calls from further in the house. “Yelling so early the damn morning. What’s the fucking problem-holy shit.” 

V eyes her cousin, staring her down. Charlotte straightens, her stance steady but her face withering a little under V’s gaze. Everyone else watches as the two women share a silent conversation, the elder, putting her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, the younger squeezing her boyfriend…fiance’s hand as she maintains eye contact. V cocks her head to the side expectantly turning to go back in the house and Charlotte follows, releasing Lip’s hand. 

The two women climb the steps up to Kev and V’s room and Charlotte quietly gestures for Lip not to follow. When they get in the room, V pulls her pajama shirt off, grabbing a pink dress off of a hanger. “This is what you wanna do?”

“Yes. I love him.” Charlotte says, sitting on the bed. 

“It’s gonna be really hard, Lottie. You know that?”

“I know.”

V turns and Charlotte zips her dress for her. “And your parents?”

Charlotte bites her lip at that. She’s startled to realize that she hadn’t even considered them being there. They weren’t who she thought of when she said they needed to go get family. She loves them, but this, the life she made here, has nothing to do with them. They’d ruin it. “It’s not about them. But you’re here.”

“Hell yeah, I am.” V says kissing her little cousin’s cheek. “Well, if we’re gonna do this, you need to complete the outfit.” She reaches in her drawer, producing her lacey, white garter, tossing it to Charlotte. 

“Um…I love you…and thanks, but...when was the last time you washed this and has it been in Kev's mouth?”

When the group was finally complete, they head out of the house, trying to figure out how to stuff everyone into Kev’s car without fucking up their dress clothes. As they stuffed Carl, Debbie and Liam into the back, everyone else was arguing about who should have to squeeze into the middle. 

“Well, I’m literally the bride, so-”

“This is my fucking car!” 

“Princess doesn’t even need a seat, she’s used to bein’ in fuckhead’s lap.”

As they fuss over the spots, Frank stumbles his way down the street, seeing his family decked out in dress clothes he makes his way over, plucking the blunt out of Ian’s hand. “Good morning family. Who died?”

“Lip and Charlotte are getting married, Daddy!” Debbie calls from inside of the car. 

Frank gasps dramatically, clutching his chest before clapping a hand onto the back of Lip’s neck, only to have it slapped off. “My eldest son! Why didn’t you say anything? Look how I’m dressed! Charlotte, looking vivacious as ever.”

Lip’s mouth curl’s in disgust as he tugs her behind him. “You’re not invited, Frank.” 

“What? I’m your father. How could you not have me at your first wedding?” Frank slurs, “Besides, I think you’ll regret not inviting Daddy when you see the gift he got you.”

“How the hell does he have a gift, he just found out.” Fiona murmurs to V.

“I’m trying to figure out what gift his broke ass could afford.” 

They watch tiredly as Frank stumbles behind the house, the sound of glass shattering ringing out, followed by a bunch of rumbling. When Frank comes back he makes his way over to his elder son, slapping two small items into his hands. “See if I’m invited now.”

Lip opens his hands to see two rings, one plain gold band and one with a small diamond in the middle. 

“What the fuck?” Fiona says, getting a closer look. “Where the hell did you get these?”

“These are my and Monica’s rings from our first wedding.”

“And you haven’t pawned them?” Ian asks.

Frank shrugs, “They’re sentimental.”

“You’ve sold Liam.”

“I was gonna get him back! Do you want them or not?” 

Lip looks over to Charlotte, “Bunny?”

The woman smiles, running a finger over the rings before nodding. “We could always have them blessed to…you know, get rid of any bad juju.” 

“Alright.” Lip says, giving her a peck before turning to get in the car. “Move out, people, let’s go.” As everyone piles in he looks at Frank sighing at them, running his dirty hands over each other. “Fuck.” he breathes, dropping his head forward on Charlotte’s shoulder as she sits in his lap. “Come the fuck on Frank.”

“Fantastic.”

Keith Hanes checks his watch one more time before shaking his head and standing from his desk. He’d given them extra time, tried to get some work done and called his wife while he waited. But time was up, he’d waited all that he could. As he turns the lights out and begins to lock up, he tsks at himself disappointedly. Of course it was a load of shit. He’s a Gallagher.

The older man turns the key, locking the second door of his office, certificate of marriage in his hand. He was a fool to even draft it up as he waited. Just as he goes to crumple the paper he hears what sounds like a stampede of feet running in the marble halls.

“Hey! Shit-” Keith turns to find the young couple sprinting over with the entire Gallagher clan (and one Milkovich) behind them. Lip slipping slightly before catching his balance as he and Charlotte round the corner. “We’re here. Made it.”

“You’re 30 minutes late.”

The blond runs a hand through his disheveled hair, running the other up and down the bare skin of his fianceé’s arm. “Is that uh, is that ours?” he asks, nodding his head toward the certificate.

“Well, yes-”

“Ah! Phillip!” Charlotte squeals, bouncing and squeezing his arm.  Lip twists his lips, attempting to contain his own smile as they essentially bum rush the judge back into the room. The young couple follow Keith over to his desk, still wrapped up in each other , exchanging pecks as they murmur excitedly to themselves. 

“Uh uh, if I’m gonna get my ass beat by my mama for letting you do this, we’re gonna do this right so we can at least get some pictures on the phone. Move-” V pushes Lip back by his chest, separating the pair before wrapping her manicured nails around Charlotte’s wrist. “C’mon little girl. One second judge.” 

Fiona shrugs at the bride as V rearranges the room, ushering Carl, Ian and Mickey to stand behind Lip and instructing Fiona and Debbie to go out into the hallway. Frank stumbles his way over, looping his dirty arm with Charlotte’s free one. “Frank, watch her fuckin’ dress.” Ian hisses as Lip’s brows furrow. “Fuck are you doin’ Frank?”

The older man frowns as his two eldest sons. “I’m-” he burps, “obviously going to be walking my new daughter down the aisle.”

Lip’s eyes immediately catch his girl’s as the brown pools widen. He could tell that she didn’t want that. This was gonna be a big moment, shit, he wouldn’t want to remember it with Frank either. Hell, he’s his dad and he planned to push him as far back as possible, he was lucky to be in the fuckin’ room. But he knows that his sweet girl knows he has complicated feelings toward his father. Hatred. Disgust. Humiliation. But the fucker was still in his blood. He couldn’t fully shake him. Lip knows Charlotte won’t outwardly protest Frank being part of this special moment that he was going to bust his ass to make sure is her only walk down an aisle. Not in front of his little siblings. Not when she’s not sure how he feels about it. “Yeah, fuck that, Frank, go sit down.”

“Well isn’t this fuckin’ something? I don’t happen to see her father here, steppin’ up. I’m welcoming her into the Gallagher family-”

“Sit the fuck down, Frank.” Lip grits, clenching his fists. This shit was not gonna happen. He was not gonna come in here, and bumble his way into ruining his wedding. He’d seen him do it to Fiona, he was not gonna do it to Lip. To Charlotte.  

“What? You get a little pussy and you’re a tough guy now?”

“Frank-” the blond steps forward, veins in his arm twitching with how tightly he was clenching his fists. Mickey not far behind him, waiting for someone to throw a punch so he could get his lick in, he was still mad at Frank from the last time he broke Ian’s nose, but he’d promised his boyfriend he wouldn't get arrested this month and they were fucking literally in a courthouse in front of a judge.

“He’s right.” Charlotte intercepts, shaking the older man’s arm off. She pats her free hand softly on her fiance’s cheek. “My dad isn’t here. But, Kev is. That’s what people do right? If your dad can’t do it your brother does?”

“Oh shit-” Kev huffs, using his arm to cover his face.

“Um…are you crying?”

“No, m’not fuckin’ cryin’, Lottie, come the fuck on-” He says, planting his hands on her shoulders and steering her the rest of the way out of the door.

Frank scoffs as he watches them. “Well just fuck me then.”

Lip doesn’t believe in fairytales. Or happy endings. True love, none of that shit. He’s always believed in what life has shown him. Fucking struggle basically. Bad shit with a little drop of happiness slipped in there before shit really hits the fan. Just enough good that he doesn’t just say fuck it and give up. That good usually came in the form of something with his siblings, finding some money, or getting his dick wet. 

Then Charlotte came. And those little moments of goodness, happiness starting happening more frequently. They came with the smiles she offered him, plump lips spreading, cheeks dimpling. They came with her soft hands, in his rougher ones, running through his hair cupping his face, touching him. It came with her laughter. Loud giggles that often ended with gasps and slaps on his arm and stomach. And still…with him getting his dick wet…but with her. 

All of that was great. Amazing. 

But this shit right here. He’d never known that it could get this good. Like, they’re in a courtroom/clerk’s office in the courthouse in which he’d had many things expunged from his record as a juvenile. Where he’d been dragged into foster care, group homes, what the fuck ever else by CPS. 

All of that went away watching Charlotte Fisher come down the aisle. It’s not even a fucking aisle. The walk from the doorway is too short. His blue eyes scan her hastily as she slowly makes her way, wanting to catch everything, capture every inch of her. He wants to commit this shit to memory. For when things get hard. He knows shit will never be this good again. This is it. He’s peaked. From her legs, up her body, the way the dress fit. The way her hair falls perfectly. And her face…her face he had to save for last. Because she’s doing it again. Looking at him like he’s something. Like he’s everything. He didn’t know you could feel love from a look like that. If he had the mental capacity at the time, he’d wonder what he must look like looking at her. Probably desperate. Needy. I mean, fuck it, he is. 

Lip hadn’t even realized he wasn’t breathing until she’s directly in front of him, leaning her forehead against his, the thin, sheer veil over her face the only thing separating him. The white fabric only making her look even more angelic. “You think your sister is gonna kill me for getting makeup on her veil?” she whispers with a giggle.

Phillip Gallagher is an all encompassing experience. You could laugh at Charlotte if you want to, she loves her man. A lot. So much so that after having a screaming match in front of his ex's house, trekking through mud, and one of the first things he’d ever said to her being ‘wanna bang one out’ she was here. In a white dress. And his sister’s veil. Getting married after like 3 months. And she’s fucking gassed.

She knew what she was signing up for. Chaos. Crazy. Gallagher. That’s fine. Phillip’s here. The consequences of dealing with her own family and friends from home barely cross her mind. All she could think of is intense blue eyes. She loves his eyes. She loves Phillip. He makes her happy. Before she’d come here, she’d thought she was content. She thought the only thing she was missing was independence. She didn’t know that this kind of joy existed. And she didn’t know she could care about someone else’s happiness like she cares about Phillip’s. He’s only 20. But life had already been so rough on him. It makes her sad, sometimes, the dark circles under his eyes, watching him bitterly light a cigarette and roughly tug at his beautiful curls when he’s stressed. Seeing his jaw clench when he sees another little kid wearing new shoes as his siblings walk around in used ones, or some guy gifting his girlfriend with something expensive. Charlotte wants to get rid of those looks. She wants to make life easier for him. To cater to him.

If V heard that she’d probably fucking vomit before slapping the shit out her. Her friends from home would think this was just people pleaser Charlotte, being tricked by some guy again. But this is different. She knows Phillip loves her.

She can feel it. To her core.  She can see it, in his eyes, essentially gazing into her soul as he looks at her intently. She can hear it, in the vow he makes to her.

“I’m gonna take fuckin’ care of you, Bunny.” 

She hears Judge Hansen sigh at the statement, probably shocked that the vow was so singular. So abrupt. 8 words and one of them was fuckin’.

To Charlotte, it was short and sweet. Meaningful.

“And I’m” she giggles wetly through her tears, her shaking hands in his larger, steadier ones. “Gonna make you so fuckin’ happy, Bubba.”

“You may now kiss the bride-”

“Fuckin’ finally.” Lip breathes, tugging Charlotte to him by the waist and capturing her lips. He leans into her with so much force she’d have stumbled back if his grip on her wasn’t so strong. Charlotte throws her arms around his neck, pressing even closer as their lips continue to meet, blissfully unaware of everyone around them. 

“Jesus, Gallagher, you’re not supposed to fuckin’ swallow her.” Mickey calls from behind them. Lip smiles into the kiss, pecking her lips one more time before pulling back, only to be pulled back in.

“Yes he is.” she grins, nudging his nose with hers and squealing as he picks her up, spinning her around.

“Alright, you got the music baby?” Kev calls as he makes his way behind the bar, pulling out shot glasses, lining them up on the wooden bar and preparing to pour. 

“On it.”

Lip finishes carrying Charlotte in on his back, refusing to carry her in bridal style because ‘this dingy ass bar isn’t our home’ but giving into her whining that her feet hurt and she didn’t want to get them dirty on the sidewalk. He plops her down on one of the stools and walks between her legs, rubbing his hands along her thighs, kissing her. “‘Makin’ you a spoiled brat.”

“Yeah? You married me?” she smiles against his lips. “That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, it fuckin’ is.” 

Wrapping her arm around his neck she lets him rest his head in hers, turning to Ian, “Okay, okay, flirt with me.”

The redhead snorts, leaning his elbows back against the bar. “Hey sexy, let me buy you a drink.”

“Ah! Nope, m’married!” she laughs, waving her left hand in his face, ignoring the tickling feeling of Lip’s breathy laughter on her skin. 

Fiona makes her way in, she’d just dropped the younger three kids off at Sheila’s so that they could fully celebrate at the Alibi without worrying about them. She pulls Charlotte from her younger brother’s embrace, pressing her lips to the girl’s cheeks. “Mwah, welcome to the shitshow baby, m’just happy to have a sister in law I can fuckin’ stand. He had shit taste before.” She laughs, shoving her brother’s shoulder. “Now, lets toast to the happy fucking couple.” her eyes lock with Lip’s and she gives him a crooked smile. “Seriously. Really fucking happy for you.”

Everybody has seen Lip fucked up before. Depending on the mood he was in, he could be fun as hell or he could look like Frank Jr. And everyone had seen Charlotte off her ass. She was…less reserved than usual. So, thank God Kev had flipped the closed sign before the shots started rolling. 

“Alright, alright man! You been under there long enough!” Kev calls, slapping Lip’s back. The younger man just chuckles as he climbs back from between his bride’s legs, garter dangling from his teeth. 

“No he hasn’t!”

“Charlotte!”

“She’s married, Kev.” V says, elbowing her own husband before grabbing her cousin’s hand, “One more drink.”

“One more!” Charlotte cheers, stumbling over to the bar and kneeling so her cousin can pour directly from the bottle into her mouth before pouring it into her own. “Baby, dance with me.”

“Lip doesn’t dance.” Fiona snorts, downing her own drink, coughing as she watches her brother obediently stand, going to sway with his new…shit wife. It’s so weird. Watching her little brother be a husband. Slow dancing with the young woman in front of him, despite the loud base of the fast paced music. The sloppy, drunken kissing and his hand on her ass was very on brand for her brother. But the soft smiles in between, and the thumb, sweeping softly over the girl’s cheek, that was new.

“Looks good on him doesn’t it?” Ian asks, resting his arm on his sister.

“Yeah. It does.” 

Mickey sidles up next to the siblings, following their gaze. “Cute.” he pats Ian’s hip before stumbling away, his drink sloshing in glass. “But I better get a real fuckin’ wedding.”

“Don’t get used to this, alright, it’s only because it’s your wedding night.” Fiona calls from Kev and V’s stoop. “And clean up after yourselves.” She watches as Lip lifts a yelping Charlotte off of the ground, stumbling backward a little himself before kicking the door open. She sighs, as it slams shut and turns to V. “Your family is gonna kill us, huh?”

“Oh yeah, we’re dead.”

The newlyweds can't concern themselves with anything but each other at the next house over.

“Okay so,” Lip begins between the heated kisses he’s placing on Charlotte’s neck. “Where do you wanna go first, cause this is the only time my family is ever gonna be cool enough to give us the house.”

His head swims as Charlotte’s hand tugs at the hair at the nape of his neck, her legs hooked around his waist as she drags his lips to hers, speaking against his mouth. “I wanna go where you wanna go.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

“C’mon baby.” He breathes before connecting their lips fully, hoisting her, gripping her ass as he walks them up the stairs. He pushes his…their bedroom door open. Charlotte starts giggling, kicking her feet lightly as she adjusts herself in his arms. “What’s funny?”

“You chose our bedroom?” she snorts, pulling back a little to look at him.

“So fuckin’ what? Why’s it funny?”

Charlotte cocks her head to the side, her hair had fallen down hours ago from the dancing she’d done with Fiona and V. “I mean, you’re just the same guy who’s always like,” she clears her throat and tries and fails to make her voice deeper. “Baby, m’so horny let me fuck you in this dirty bathroom, stop being so prissy. Bunny, Kev won’t even be able to tell if I eat your pussy in the car, nobody’s home, lemme bend you over the couch-” she squeaks when he slaps her ass before dumping her onto the bed.

“Fuckin’ brat, I was trying to be nice to you today.”

“Aww,” she pouts, “is that why you wanna do it the ‘boring’ way, like you call it.”

Lip’s gaze softens as he stares down at the woman splayed out on his bed, smiling up at him. “Yeah,” he all but whispers, smoothing his thumb over her cheek, dragging it down her lips and to her jaw, “and, uh, I wanna look at my wife’s pretty face.”

Charlotte settles, catching his hand with hers before he can pull it back, placing it fully on her cheek and leaning into it. “I love you.”

“I fucking love you.” he huffs out, before climbing on top of her and capturing her lips. 

This was nowhere near their first time. Like at all. Much to the chagrin of their families, Lip and Charlotte fuck at least 1-2 times a day. But this was something else entirely. They took turns quietly undressing each other, Charlotte taking the time to undo each of Lip’s buttons, Lip running his fingers along her spine as he unzips her zipper. Never straying far from each other, lips either melded together, or close, sharing air.

Charlotte’s fingers flex in blond curls as he settles between her legs, blue eyes staring at her intently, watching for every reaction, as he moans into her core. He only gets to taste her for a moment before she was whining for him to come up, wrapping her legs around him as he settles back on top of her. The couple shares a gasp as he pushes into her, the only sounds filling the air, the soft creaking of the old bed to the rhythm of his slow thrusts and the quiet moans they share. 

Lip fights to keep his eyes open despite their impulse to roll closed, desperately taking in her face as he rocks into her, one hand holding her leg, the other exploring her face, his thumb dips into her mouth for a moment, pulling a sound from her that has him chasing it to her lips, kissing her deeply, guiding her tongue along his, 

After a moment he drops his head next to hers, pressing his mouth to his ear. “Fucking love you.” Charlotte only gasps in response as his movements get rougher despite maintaining their slow pace. Her hand gripping at his arms as she tightens around him. “Yeah? You like that? You like hearing how much I love you?” Her cry only fuels him, his own mouth falling open briefly as he breathes against her neck. “I love you more than anything and now you’re mine. Say it.”

When all she offers him is a whine, Lip tightens his grip on her jaw slightly, leaning back up and pushing their foreheads together, looking down at her. “Did you hear me?”

“I…I’m yours.”

“That’s right, baby. M’gonna make you so fuckin’ happy. Gonna get you a real fuckin’ house. Gonna be such a good husband for you, bunny. Take care of you.”

“M’gonna take care of you too.” she whispers, arching up to kiss him again, trailing her lips against his cheek.

“God damnit-” he groans, reaching down between them to rub along her clit, feeling her start to spasm around him. “Fuck fuck fuck. C’mon baby.” His grip on her tightens as she climaxes, squirming in his arms as he commits her cries to memory, wanting to hear that sound play on loop in his brain. Lip brings both of his hands to her hips, gripping tightly as he pins her to the bed, as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Fuck, Charlotte, tell me you love me.”

Through her haze, Charlotte calms enough to focus her vision on her husband, truly hearing his plea, seeing it in his eyes as he waits. How could she not? “I love you, Phillip Gallagher.”

Lip moans loudly, his hands tightening impossibly around her as he buries his face in her neck to bury the sound, but she hears it anyway. She feels as he empties himself into her and rubs her hands along his back as he settles on top of her, brushing wet curls away from his face when he finally comes up to press soft, persistent pecks onto her lips.

After a few minutes he pushes off and out of her, despite her demands that he stay where he was, and tosses her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “C’mon Mrs. Gallagher, we gotta make sure you don’t get a UTI.” 

“Romantic.”

“Shut up, I’m plenty romantic.”

“In what way?” she scoffs as he plops her down on the toilet and leans against the sink, not even offering her the decency of looking away while she pees. “Hey, you wanna get married tomorrow?” she mocks. 

Lip smirks down at her, flicking her forehead. “You’re gonna stop mockin’ me, you don’t like it when I do it to you.”

“I don’t care when you mock me.” she pouts, crossing her arms.

“Oh, fuck, Phillip-” he whines loudly, laughing between his mocking whimpers as he starts tugging her hands away from where they’re covering her ears. “I’m yours, Phillip, please-” he continues for a moment before quietly trailing off, running the rough pads of his fingers along her collarbone, following his own movement with his eyes, starting a trail down to her breasts.

“You just turned yourself on, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah.” he shrugs, leaning back on the sink again. “You gonna let me fuck you in the shower?”

Lip sleepily reaches over, grabbing the ringing phone from the bedside table, pressing it to his ear as he smooths a hand down Charlotte’s spine, hoping not to wake her. He was proud of his handiwork, her hair was a mess, she was gonna throw a fit when she woke up and realized she didn’t cover it, but it didn’t matter, they’d sweated it out the night before anyway. Her body is littered with hickeys, her ass still warm and red. He had matching love bites of his own and he was sure his back was red with scratch marks with the pleasant sting he feels. 

“Charlotte? Hello?” a man’s voice burns in Lip’s ears as his blue eyes shoot open. He pushes off of the bed, stepping onto the wooden floor, body already tense.

“Who the fuck is this?” he growls into the phone, his change in tone causing the woman to stir.

The voice sounds affronted, meeting his anger with its own. “No, who the hell is this?”

“Her fucking husband, your turn dickhead.” He grits, Charlotte shooting up behind him, waving her hands and trying to wrestle the device out of his hands pleading ‘hang up, hang up, hang up-’ “Her fucking father, young man. I win. Now can I speak to my daughter?”

[tiramissyoucake]

Not super descriptive, im afraid, but I enjoyed your last Gdorf fic and was hoping to request another :3 with gender neutral pronouns and terms if that's alright🙏

Something along the lines of him making you ride him/grind against his knee while he sits on the throne, with some good old-fashioned degradation, along with throwing in some praise here and there. Most ideally, OOT or TP Ganondorf in mind! But that's all up to you, I'm not picky.

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, reader is his loyal attendant here- pre-marriage even? GN so very vague genitalia description. 1k words semi proof read.

CW: NSFW, thigh-riding, use of 'slut', 'whore' Ganondorf being mean but he still loves reader, reader doesnt get to nut yet.

notes: finally.. an excuse to write more for him, thanks for ur request !! he has muscular thighs in all versions so technically all versions work. this is called thigh-riding, right? for some reason it doesn't do it for me but anything Ganondorf related is good. NEW DIVIDER DEBUT tell me how ya'll like it.

Your job was simple, answer when called and obey commands. Ganondorf was a no-nonsense man, so you ensured everything was perfect, your appearance, your work, your posture and speech.

Today was quiet, Ganondorf called for you from the throne room. Your steps were consistently quick- urgently responding to his call while keeping a dignified image. You automatically lowered your head reaching him, he stood near the throne, approaching you, a smile stretching across his strong features; your obedience was always a welcome sight.

“Raise your head, my loyal attendant.” His voice was carried across the room, you followed his order, looking at your king as your hands subtly smoothed down your uniform, the one he insisted you wear.

“I apologize for making you wait, my king. I was tending to the archives.” You explained as smoothly as you could, his eyes followed your every movement, it always made a shiver shoot up your spine. (one you learned to suppress)

“Do you tire of these journeys?” He started, velvet voice coaxing you to drop the formalities for a moment, you always had to look up when talking to him; though you assumed anyone would if they weren’t a tall specimen of the Goron or Zora.

Your confused glance made him continue. “You have many tasks to complete in my palace, you’re only close to me when it’s my chambers or this very throne room.” He settled down onto his rightful throne, one hand clutching the armrest while the other propped his head up to look at you properly. “We should assign you a seat here, shouldn’t we?”

Your first answer was no, where would it go? Next to the throne? That was a position for someone like the king’s spouse; you were just an attendant. He did not wait for an answer and simply patted his thigh. “Come here.”

He anticipated your hesitance, you stood in front of him, and he maneuvered you easily in his hands to sit on his muscular thigh, the sudden movement almost caused you to fall completely on him. Your hand firmly rested on his shoulder and bicep. it was… shockingly comfortable. Most of his armor was focused on his chest so his legs were mostly just clothed.

“Relax, when have I ever harmed you?” Ganondorf carefully tugged you closer, feeling how snug you were against him he couldn’t help a chuckle from emanating, the closeness made you blush. “Do I strike fear into your heart, my little attendant?”

He didn’t mind your secure grasp on him as he tugged you closer, the movement and pressure making you gasp before you could answer, his height, his size, everything overwhelmed you as he gently moved you back and forth. His voice lowered as he leaned closer to you. “Isn’t this what you deserve? The perfect seat for my one and only obedient attendant...” his tone was oddly sweet, the low volume making his voice carry more vibration and gruffness than it already did.

Your lips were parted, you knew you’d be a fool to object to your king’s affections, but should you be seen like this? In such a debauched way in front of the man you devoted your existence to? “But... someone might see us- sir...!”

Ganondorf laughed, deep and rich as he held your hips firmly, he could feel you begin to struggle against his planted hands holding you in place, he knew you wouldn’t disappoint him. “No one would step foot in here unless I command it.”

That assured you a bit, but he pressed on. “Do you think me cruel enough to let you be seen in such a manner? By anyone except me? flushed and panting on my thigh like a shameless slut…” you knew he was possessive, but never over you. you could barely focus over the building pleasure between your legs, you mentally curse the underlayer of your uniform, the cloth clung to your skin and yet you could feel everything and it was hard to keep your composure in your king's hands like this.

You glanced at him pleadingly, he cooed at you almost mockingly as his hands loosened, allowing you to set your own pace. “… should I let you be seen like this?” You had to look away, the idea was shameful, but you felt even more guilt at the arousal pooling within.

“Perhaps I should place you on my thigh like this when I work? I’d enjoy looking at a writhing little slut like you as I finish my tasks…” he chuckled darkly as you moved your hips less subtly now, hands clinging to whatever fabric peeked out from beneath his armor.

“P-please, my king…” you whimpered, it was pathetically amusing yet arousing, Ganondorf held your jaw in his hand and forced you to look up at him, your hip movements slowed but hadn’t stopped, you couldn’t stop, not when the pressure of his thigh was against all the right places, pressing your buttons and getting you so close but it wasn’t enough; you needed him to touch you.

“Please what? You have the gall to make demands to your king? When you’re humping my thigh like a needy whore?” his hand clutched your hip tightly as he sat up, the pressure forcing a choked moan out of you as your grip fastened onto him for stability. “What’s the matter? Is this too much for you?”

He moved you harshly once more, the friction shooting at your senses so quickly you couldn’t reply unless it was a lewd request for him to ruin you. he laughed, kissing your neck, it would have been a sweet gesture had it not been for his hands guiding your frantic riding back and forth.

You were always so obedient, always sacrificing anything for his pleasure and approval, seeing you chase your release so greedily. It was a sight to behold; you were always the quiet little attendant, seeing this side of you only made his desire for you triple, he could barely hold himself back.

He stopped you by grounding you down onto him, enough to stop you but not enough to hurt you. He sat up properly once more, leaning down to speak into your ear. “Enough. you’ve shown me just how much of a good attendant you can be…”

Disappointment and guilt racked your being, was this some sort of test that you failed? Had you disappointed him? Your questions were stopped as he manhandled you once more, carefully he picked you up and stood, his bulking strength made you feel like your weight was nothing as you were fitted snugly in his arms. “I was serious, you know; I won’t let you be seen like this by anyone but me... Now, be quiet until we reach my chambers.”

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

pairing: jisung x fem!reader (afab)

genre: idol!jisung. estranged!jisung. softdom!jisung. needy!jisung. nearing breakup. hurt/comfort. angst. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. lots of angst. mentions of estrangement/breakup. slight possessive behavior from jisung. pet names (princess, babygirl/babydoll, etc.). smut warnings below cut!! 

word count: 9.4k

summary: things between you and jisung have slowly fizzled out within the past few months. the tension only gets worse after a heated argument that almost ends with your breakup, which ultimately forces him to prove to you how much he still truly loves you.

18+ warnings: dirty talk. oral (f. receiving). fingering. breast/nipple play. slight dom/sub undertones. strength kink. dirty thoughts. hair pulling. praise kink. slight dumbification kink if you squint. unprotected sex (keep it safe, my friends). slight perv behavior from jisung. mentions of masterbation. sweet lovemaking.

a/n: i randomly decided to write this this week after the idea popped into my head, and i was like... hmm, i wonder what would happen if ji's s/o was contemplating a breakup. and then one thing led to another and i found myself fangirling over the idea of jisung being an oral sex god lmao, so here we are!! 😂 also, YES, i'm FULLY on board with the idea of him loving the pet name 'princess.' 😩 lmk what ya'll think of this one... feedback and reblogs are much-appreciated! 🥰

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

Truly, your boyfriend was being very fucking unreasonable. Jisung had been working so hard, for so long, it was almost a miracle that he was still standing upright from all of the shit that he put his body through. 

Produce music, work out, practice, perform, film, repeat. 

Every. Single. Day. 

 Even you got sick of your job once in a while - so you couldn’t imagine what it was like for him, to wake up every single day and do the same grind over and over again. 

But to your utter surprise, he seemed to love it. Sure, it was stressful as hell and toxic at times, but that just made it all the more precious to him, it would seem. Plus, it was a bonus that he got to experience such ups and downs of being an idol with his seven closest friends in the entire world. 

 However, there were many drawbacks to his busy lifestyle. 

 And one of them was the fact that he never seemed to catch a break - never seemed to be home long enough for you.

 Even when he had a ‘day off’ on a rare occasion, he always filled his time producing new music, practicing a new choreo, or hanging out at the studio with Chan and Changbin. 

 And doing all of this didn’t help to make your relationship any stronger. 

 If anything, it left little time for the two of you to truly connect. Especially within the past few months or so. Mainly, you’d just see each other in passing throughout the workdays, as you came to and fro from your shared apartment. And when you guys weren’t rushing off to your separate schedules, you were fucking quick and effortless around the apartment. 

 At the beginning of the relationship, the sex had been amazing. Mind-blowing, even. Jisung knew his way around a woman’s body, and he wasn’t afraid to use his skills. His tongue was especially powerful - which you gave credit to his fast rapping skills for - and he liked using it on you to tease and tease until you were a sopping wet, begging mess underneath him. The flirt.

 But that was a long time ago. 

 And now? 

 Well, let’s just say that the sex wasn’t that… mind-blowing anymore. 

 You couldn’t remember when it had started to feel different. But then one day, it just lost its unique touch. And then, the sessions changed from long nights of lovemaking in the bedroom to quickies up against the shower wall or on the kitchen counter. 

 There was this odd kind of… distance that was floating between the two of you. You didn’t know if Jisung felt it, since his mind was always so occupied with thoughts of his work and Stray Kids. 

 You, on the other hand? It was all you could think about. And every time he walked through the doorway of the apartment after a long, arduous day at work, your heartstrings pulled just a little tighter at the sight of his slumped form. Droopy shoulders, mussed hair, skin sticky with sweat from a workout or practice. 

 It just didn’t feel the same anymore. 

 It didn’t… 

 Didn’t even feel like your boyfriend cared about you. 

 The passion that had been there between you two at the beginning was erased, and in its stead was an odd, shallow kind of companionship. 

 Yeah, companionship. That’s what it was. 

 But definitely not romance. 

 So when you awoke from the long nap that you had been taking one Saturday night, your first thought was to peer over at the other end of the bed. 

 Empty. 

 Void of any life- 

 Of Jisung. 

 You let out a dry, humorless scoff. Typical 

 Your week had been jam-packed with work and it was so exhausting, so the nap had been much needed. Sitting up from your pillow, you ran a few fingers through your hair. In silence, you shuffled out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. 

 But you completely froze up at the sight of your boyfriend sitting at his desk that was placed in the corner of the small living room. You hadn’t expected to see him. It was only nine at night, and he was never home this early on a weekend night. He was hunched over his keyboard, nimble fingers flying across the keys as he typed, head bopping to a tune that was running through the large headphones he had on. 

 Just then your stomach rumbled, and you decided to pull your attention away from him. He was busy anyway, it’s not like he was going to talk to you. You made quick work in the kitchen and were soon sitting at the small, two-chaired dining room table with a plate of scrambled eggs and browned, pre-cooked sausages on a plate laid in front of you. You sipped on a tall glass of orange juice as you absently scrolled through your Instagram feed on your phone. Trying to pass the time away mindlessly.

 You distinctly felt your boyfriend’s presence in the corner of the adjoining living room, but he was apparently oblivious to you sitting there, eating dinner. Alone. Just like you had done for the last- God knows how long. 

 You honestly couldn’t even remember the last time you two had shared a meal. And all at once, the eggs turned sour in your mouth. You swallowed around the painful lump in your throat, the tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes. 

 “Oh- Y/N, I didn’t see you there.” Jisung’s voice rang out across the small apartment, and the sound of it momentarily forced your spine to go rigid, making you sit up a little taller in your chair. He didn’t even use any pet name when acknowledging you then - like he hadn’t done for a long time now. 

 Just… Y/N. 

 “What are you still doing up?” He asked. Like he expected you to already be in bed. To be sleeping and dead to the world. 

 Like he didn’t even fucking want you around. 

 “Was having dinner,” you started, voice a little scratchy from the unshed tears. You pushed away from the table, standing from your chair. “But I’m not hungry anymore.” 

 As you made your way back over to the bedroom, Jisung’s voice stopped you in your tracks. “Wait- you’re just… leaving the food there?” Not, where are you going? I’ve missed you. Come here, let’s talk. He only cared about the damn food.

 You waved a nonchalant hand in the air back his way, “You can finish it, I don’t care.” And with that, you closed the bedroom door shut behind you with a quiet click. 

 Immediately, you sank to the floor. Face buried in your hands, violent sobs wracking through your body quietly. 

 Because where - and when - had it all gone so wrong? 

A week passed after that, blurring and bleeding together into so many other similar ones of the past. Wake up, watch Jisung leave the apartment at six in the morning for work, then get ready for work yourself, spend most of the day at your job before coming home at seven, then make dinner, eat it by yourself, get ready for bed, fall asleep at nine. 

 These days, it was rare for you to even see Jisung enter the apartment at night. Sometimes, you wondered if he even came home anymore. Because truly, what was here for him anyway? He had no regard for you. He didn’t care at all, it would seem. 

 You were bustling about the bathroom, finishing up applying your moisturizer just before you slipped into bed for the night. Then all of a sudden, the door opened, and in filed Jisung. 

 He was already clad in his pajamas - baggy cream-colored sweatpants and a thin white cotton t-shirt. You were dressed in a matching set close to his, but your pants were shorts and your white cotton shirt was a crop top. You two had gotten the set the year before, as a cute second-anniversary gift. Like it really mattered now...

 Jisung moved in silence, and then he was upon you, pressing your back into his muscular chest. He wrapped a loose arm around your waist and burrowed his face into the crook of your shoulder. “Need you,” he muttered against your bare skin. 

 For one indecisive moment, his words made you freeze up like a statue of stone in your place. Because frankly, it took you back so far in the past, you were suddenly blindsided by nostalgia. Of stolen kisses taken in corners, and heated whispers said in the dark of night, of hands exploring warm skin, and quiet pants falling from parted mouths. Of how he used to say such things to you when he was so desperate - so needy - for your taste. 

 But then you were brought back to the present. And you were reminded of the fact that he hadn’t said such words in so long, they now felt foreign on his tongue. And you two hadn’t been intimate with each other - quickie or not - in over two weeks. That’s the longest you had gone in… what felt like forever. 

 “Jisung- get off me,” you said in an annoyed tone, replacing your bottle of moisturizer on the bathroom counter. 

 He was still clutching onto you, pressing a few delicate kisses onto the skin of your shoulder. And against your better judgment, a quick shiver ran down the length of your spine. “Don’t play hard to get with me, now…” he said, his tone light a humorous. 

 Like nothing was wrong and everything was fine. As if he had been acting like the picture-perfect boyfriend for the past few months. 

 When in reality, all of those things were just downright lies. 

 “I said- get off of me!” The yell tumbled from your lips before you even realized what you were saying. And as you shoved away from his grasp, stepping back from the counter and out of the bathroom, the air around you instantly changed. From one of playfulness and slight desire on his part, to what you had been feeling at that moment. Bitterness, and… heartbreak. 

 “Y/N- what-” Jisung followed you out of the bathroom. His voice had an incredulous tone to it, as he was no doubt completely thrown for one from your sudden shift in mood. 

 “I’m just tired, alright? I want to go to bed.” You said curtly. You climbed into bed, resting your head on your cushy pillow, breathing in a sigh of relief at the comforting feeling of the thick downy comforter covering your bare legs. At least something in this hellhole of an apartment still gave you comfort. 

 And when you heard the bathroom door shutting quietly behind you, signaling that Jisung was finishing up getting ready for bed himself, the tension eased immensely from your shoulders. 

 Still, it showed that he had given up. 

 Like an absolute fucking coward. 

 And quite possibly, that hurt the most. 

 You fell asleep to the feeling of a single tear escaping out of one of your eyes, rolling down the side of your nose and across your cheek. Staining your pillow with wetness, just like every other night before, too.  

“Can we talk?” Jisung said the next day. He shuffled out of the bedroom, the large backpack that he always used to carry his extra pair of clothes for practice and other gear of the like in hand.

 It was early in the morning on a Wednesday, and you were busy in the kitchen preparing your breakfast to go. You didn’t have much of an appetite - for obvious reasons Jisung had no idea about - so you just decided to make some oatmeal and throw it in a thermos for you to eat when you got to work. The night before had left you in an odd sort of emotional limbo as soon as you woke up that morning, and your stomach churned painfully inside of you. With anxiety, and heartache. 

 Peering up from the strawberries that you were cutting to add to your breakfast, you shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, what’s up?” 

 He took careful steps toward you, stopping when he reached a corner of the kitchen counter where he leaned one of his hips against it. “Did I… do something wrong last night?” 

 His question took you off guard so much that your head shot up from the cutting board. Because had he done something wrong? He hadn’t forced anything, but just the entire act of him expecting something from you after his poor treatment of you for so long… that’s what had upset you. Well, that and a whole host of other things. “No, Jisung, I already told you. I was just tired.” You lied to him with a straight face, as you turned back to your work, slicing through the red flesh of a strawberry with your sharp knife. 

 “You just acted like… I don’t know, you were mad or something,” he started, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see that he swept a hand through his midnight-black hair in a frenzied kind of way. Surely, his next words weren’t going to be ones you liked. “Are we… good?” 

 Your boyfriend had said a lot of stupid things in the past, namely when it came to telling absurd jokes. But this? Asking if you guys were on good terms when he had been sabotaging the whole relationship for the past few months with his shitty behavior? Now that was just downright ludicrous. “I don’t know Jisung, you tell me.” You decided to say, as you fit your cut-up strawberries in a clean glass container before placing it into your lunchbox. 

 “What does that mean?” 

 Your gaze shot up at his snippy tone, and immediately, it was like a switch was turned on inside of you. And then the words started flowing. “Well damn, Ji- I don’t know! How can we be ‘good’ when apparently, you despise me?!” You threw your hands up into the air exasperatingly, your voice rising and echoing across the kitchen. When you noticed him beginning to open his mouth to shoot back a retort, you rolled your eyes. “And don’t give me the bullshit of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ because you and I both know that you haven’t done shit for this relationship for the past… I don’t know how fucking long!” 

 “Well every time I try to get close to you, you push me away!” Jisung shouted back, folding his arms across his chest. Almost like he was trying to protect himself from your words. Your blows. “Like last night- you just… shut down!” 

 “Did you ever think that I don’t want to have sex with a man who doesn’t even fucking care about me anymore?” You're clutching your fists together so hard that you feel your nails digging into the tender skin of your palms. But, you keep squeezing anyway. It helps ground you at the moment. Helps to keep the tears at bay that threaten to spill over with every word spoken. 

 “What the hell, Y/N-”

 “And don’t fucking call me that!” You screamed, your voice finally giving out and cracking desperately. The tears were freely flowing now, racing down your heated cheeks that were blooming with a furious blush. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! It’s all you ever call me anymore! Well, I’m sick of it, okay?! Where’s the old Han Jisung? The one that actually loved me and showed interest in me and made love to me sweetly and called me pretty names?!” 

 Your gazes were painfully locked, and on his face, at that moment, you saw realization dawn upon him. It was so evident in the way that his dark brows creased slightly, the way his bottom lip quivered a little bit, and the way his eyes shone with so many emotions, but mainly- sadness, and... vulnerability?

 Too embarrassed to stand there any longer and bare your whole, raw self to him for another second, you quickly grabbed up your lunchbox and made for the living room, where your purse was sitting on the edge of the couch. Then you were turning around and nearing the entryway, slipping on your shoes and coat - after all, it was the beginning of February and it was still cold as fuck out. 

 Funny, how Valentine’s Day was quickly approaching, and yet your long-time relationship with your boyfriend Jisung was falling apart right before your eyes. Just your luck, it would seem. 

 “Y/N, where are you going?” Jisung’s voice cracked with unbidden pain as you slipped your thick winter coat on. 

 And when your hand reached for the doorknob to leave, you felt fingers clutch desperately at your elbow. 

 “Please- let’s just-”

 “Just fucking leave me alone.” You said in a quiet, quivering tone. Your shoulders were still shaking, the tears leaving trails down either of your cheeks. 

 A tender part of your heart squeezed achingly when you yanked your arm out of Jisung’s grasp. And a tiny, hopeless, strangled sound fell from his lips from behind you, just as you crossed the door’s threshold and barreled out into the cold morning air beyond. 

 All day, you couldn’t focus at work. You trudged through your routine wordlessly, filling out documents and signing off on things. But inside, your mind was drifting from one thing to another. Would Jisung be there when you returned home to the apartment that night? Or would you come home to a barren place, with him having taken out all of his things? 

 Did your fight mean that you guys had broken up? 

 Where did you two stand with one another? 

 Everything was so murky and fucked up, that by the time you finished work, you were glad that you would be home two hours later than usual. Maybe that’d give your boyfriend enough time to hi-tail it out of there before you met him once more. Before you had to relive all of the trauma and hurt all over again from that morning - from the last few months. 

 You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself and steel your rising nerves, as you stood outside of your apartment’s front door that night. It was just past nine, and surely he’d still be at work. Surely, he’d be busy with the boys, practicing the night away, while you drowned in a pint of freezer-burned chocolate ice cream and tears on your bed. 

 When you opened the door, you immediately noticed how the apartment was quite dark. A tiny sigh of relief left your lips at the sight of shadows filling in the corners of the living room. 

  He wasn’t home, then. 

  Good. 

  And you couldn't remember the last time you had ever thought such a thing- 

 That your once-loving boyfriend wasn't home, and that that was a good thing. 

  The feeling quickly became sickening, and you swallowed around a thick lump in your throat. 

 After peeling your winter coat away from your sweater-clad arms and fitting your shoes back onto the small shelf that you kept near the door, you made your way out of the small entryway and into the kitchen. 

 But you stopped in your tracks upon the sight that you found there. 

 Your entire body seized up in surprise, 

 Spine going rigid, 

 Hands clenching and then unclenching at your sides. 

 For there, at the small dining room table, sat your boyfriend, Jisung. 

 A satiny, maroon-coloured cloth lined the wooden table, and you noticed the fine china that was placed on either side of the thing. The white proclaim plates were filled with what looked like Italian food - loaded with saucy pasta, roasted vegetables, and thick breadsticks. There were two crystal wine glasses too, filled to the brim with velvety red wine. 

 And at the centre of the table was a vase of flowers - it was bursting with a bouquet of crimson-red and baby-pink roses, sunset-orange daises, and pure-white baby's breath. Around the vase of flowers, laid a handful of candles, their bright wicks flickering in and out with the heat that quietly blasted throughout the apartment. No wonder why all of the lights had been turned off- to give way to the romantic ambiance of such a spread. 

 In an instant, your heavy purse slipped from your hands. You felt your heart leaping wildly inside of you, thumping against your ribcage in an almost painful kind of way. And only then, did your eyes find your boyfriend’s form in the dim lighting. He was dressed in a simple black long-sleeved t-shirt, the fabric tight around his toned chest. You noticed the black, tight-fitting jeans that wrapped around his legs, hugging every corded muscle flawlessly. His midnight-dark hair was styled messy, hanging low in front of his eyes, and your gaze caught on a thin silver chain that hung around his neck, showcasing his milky-smooth skin. 

 “Welcome home, baby girl.” Jisung’s voice came out soft and silky. Your eyes locked on his lips, as they moved to form the words. Then, he was standing up from his seat, nearing you ever so slowly. Like you were an animal he was hunting, and he was afraid he’d scare you off with the slightest of movements. 

 Your eyes found his in the darkness, and there, you saw an abundance of emotions- fondness, love, and… hesitance. “W-What is going on?” You managed to get out, limbs a little shaky as he came so close to you, you caught his scent. He always smelled of a mix of maraschino cherries and sweet lollipops. The smell was so lovely, yet it always did wonders to calm you down. 

 “Sit, baby.” He whispered. Reaching out, he took ahold of one of your hands and slowly pulled you towards the dining table. He pulled out your seat for you and helped you ease into the plush chair. Then, he was rounding the table once more and taking up his previous position across from you. 

 “What is all of this, Jisung?” You asked, brows raising in question as your eyes perused the spread in front of you. You hadn’t noticed the small tiered cake before, but the dark pink buttercream frosting seemed to glimmer against the candlelight, and instinctually, your stomach rumbled with hunger. 

 “An apology,” he began quietly. His stare was locked with yours across the table, and when he leaned over and grasped one of your hands, fingers sliding between fingers, your heart leaped in the pit of your chest. He squeezed your palm gently. “After… after you left this morning, I was a total fucking mess. Came into work practically bawling my eyes out like a stupid baby. The boys were so worried, and after they managed to get everything out of me, they helped me plan all of this.” 

 You squeeze his hand back, offering a tiny smile. A little kindness wouldn’t hurt, right? At least you could give him what he hadn’t given you in so long. “The setup is lovely. I… I honestly don’t know what to say…” Your voice trailed off, cracking at the end of your words. When you felt the tears welling up in the corner of your eyes, you bit down hard on your bottom lip to quell them from spilling down your cheeks. 

 Jisung cursed under his breath, shaking his head once, before speaking lowly, “You don’t have to say anything, darling. I’m the one who messed up, who fucked up colossally,” he said, shoulders quaking just a little bit from the sentiment of it all. His eyes were dancing with so much hurt and heartbreak, and at that moment, you wanted nothing more but to get up from the table and envelop him in a long hug. But no- for once, you weren’t going to give anything… for once, you were going to take. “I had no idea what you’ve been going through these past few months. I’ve just been so… caught up - obsessed - with my work that I failed to acknowledge the one thing tethering me to it all. And I’m so sorry. I realize my mistakes now, I understand what I’ve done. 

 “But… I know that you have no obligation to accept my apology. You’ve been putting up with my bullshit for so long, I wouldn’t blame you if you called it quits right now. And if you do decide to do that, you must know how I feel. I have enjoyed every moment that I've spent with you, while we were friends and lovers. And I’d never give it up for anything else in the world. I love you so, so much. And I never want to hurt you again, not like this.” 

 You were squeezing onto his hand so tight, you were sure your nails would leave imprints into his palm long after you pulled away. The tears were racing down either of your warm cheeks, your heart cracked open and bleeding with pain. Because the apology was truly genuine. You knew Han Jisung - had known him for so many years now - and you could automatically pick up on when he was telling a lie. But this? This was pure, unadulterated sorrow. He was so remorseful for what he had done, and the distressed look on his face clearly showed how he truly felt. The furrowed brows, the firm press of his lips, the sallow-colored cheeks, the misty eyes. 

 And suddenly, everything was made so very clear to you. 

 You knew exactly what you had to do. 

 “I forgive you.” The words left you quietly, but Jisung heard them nonetheless. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the confession. Because you loved him too. And all at once, you understood that leaving him, ending the relationship, would just create even more pain for the both of you. And you weren’t a mean person. You cared for your boyfriend deeply and wanted to make things work out. “You really hurt me, you know? All of the late nights away from home, and then the heartless quickies. It became so… tiring, to not have a connection with you anymore. But, I want to try again. I want to make things right, and try and revive the relationship.” 

 You offered him and minuscule smile, and he mimicked your expression tenfold, the happiness blossoming across his face like an infectious disease. “Yes, yes, I’ll do anything, baby. Anything to save us.” He exclaimed faintly, bringing your hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against your skin. A ripple of fire cast through your body at the contact of his lips. “But first, before we work out the details, can we please eat? I’m so hungry, I think I could eat an entire cow right now!” 

 A hearty laugh escaped past your lips at his absurdity. And almost instantly, it was like you were back to how things used to be - how the old Jisung used to be, the one that would crack jokes all the time around you, the one that would flash you a cheeky grin every other sentence, the one that always made your heart race wildly. 

 “Yeah, sure,” you looked down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that was practically lighting up your entire face, “the food looks great, the boys did a great job in helping you.” 

 “Mhm, I did most of it though,” he said in between a huge bite of pasta. “But you know how they get… especially Seungmin, always needing the credit.” He rolled his eyes at you, and you both burst out into a fit of laughter. 

 It felt good to let loose in front of him. To laugh your head off, without feeling like you were a burden. And in no time at all, you were digging into your serving of pasta, savoring the salty sauce as it coated your tongue in a mouth-watering kind of way. 

 “Can you hand me that knife over there?” Jisung asked an hour later, as he slotted a bowl into the dishwasher. You two were currently cleaning up the kitchen from the bomb that had been left off in the wake of him and the boys trying to make a romantic dinner for the two of you. 

 You leaned across the granite countertop and passed him the knife, before going back to wiping down the stove with a damp towel. You guys had passed the dinner with a mix of serious conversation and silly jokes. Over the meal, you guys had decided on what the future looked like. Jisung promised that he’d talk to Chan and his managers about it, but he was positive that he’d be able to leave work at least an hour earlier than he usually did every day. And you promised that you’d keep in touch with him if you were ever running late because of work. You guys planned to set every Friday night aside for the two of you to have a date, even if it was just staying at home and lazying around together, it was a time you'd get to spend together, just the two of you.

 Neither of you had brought up the sex during dinner, and to be candid, you were a little too embarrassed to talk about it with him. You had no idea why, when you had been dating for so long. But, the idea of explaining your true, most-inner feelings about it all was quite… daunting, to say the least. 

 “Well, the cleanup is done, at least. I’ll have to clear the table tomorrow,” he said a few minutes later, just as he closed the dishwasher and started up a new cycle. You were leaning against the counter on the opposite side of him, your focus on your hands, as they wound and unwound the damp cloth between your fingers. “Thanks for all of the help, baby girl.”

 At that, your head shot up, eyes wide as your focus locked with Jisung’s. “W-Why do you keep calling me that?” You stuttered out, mouth parted just slightly in surprise. 

 “Why?” He raised a dark, quizzical eyebrow your way, “you don’t like it?” 

 You felt a deep blush wash across your cheeks at his question, and your eyes flicked away from his that were slowly darkening. “N-No, it’s just… I’m not used to it, I guess.”

 “Oh, so then you do like it…” His serious voice resonated out across the kitchen. And then he was moving closer to you until he was standing just a hairsbreadth away from your form. Slender fingers reached out, fitting underneath your chin and turning your head so that your eyes locked for what felt like the millionth time that night. “What else do you like, baby girl?” His pupils were dim and blown wide, the shadows in the room seemed to cast across his shoulders, cloaking him in unbidden desire. 

 “J-Just you, Ji.” You breathed out, as his fingers traveled away from your chin, before cupping your cheek. 

 “You’ll have to be more specific than that, darling.” Your boyfriend mused. His nails grazed across your feverish skin, sending a shudder to course down the length of your spine. “We never talked about the sex… but I assume there will be no more quickies?” 

 You swallowed, once. “No, I don’t like them. They’re- they’re not you, babe.” 

 “Really?” He asked, the heady scent of him filling your nostrils as he stepped closer to you. His hand left your face, as he clutched at either of your hips and helped ease you onto the kitchen countertop that was just at your back. Slotting himself between your parted legs, his fingers dug into the fabric of the tight jeans at your waist. “Then, what is me, baby?” He leaned into you, pressing a tentative kiss against your lips. 

  And holy fuck, did it feel good. 

 To have him so close to you, 

 So intimate. 

 Holding you so tightly to him. 

 The safety you felt in his embrace seemed to overwhelm you, and your shoulders shook a little bit with the love that radiated from his face just then. “Y-You love me, wholly and completely,” you began, as he pressed another kiss to your mouth. This one was a lot more passionate than the last and swirled the pool of fervency that was slowly building deep inside of you. “You m-make love to me sweetly.” 

 You leaned into him then, as his teeth ran along your bottom lip. Your mouth opened, and his tongue swiped at yours. A strangled moan flew from you, and he swallowed it whole with a groan of his own. 

 “Do you want me to make love to you sweetly now, baby girl?” He grunted in between your kisses. His voice was silky smooth, like the darkest of chocolates. And when your mouths unlaced from one another, a hot string of saliva trailed after his pretty, swollen lips. 

 Nodding your head desperately, you almost surprised yourself with the sudden earnestness that flooded through your entire system. Because truly, you had been waiting - wishing - for such a thing for months. And finally, your boyfriend was giving it to you. Not out of spite or hatred, but because he loved you. “Y-Yes, I want that so much…” You breathed, the blush erupting into a furious heat across your cheeks. 

 When Jisung’s lips spread into a knowing smirk, eyes alighting with a certain kind of fire, you had to forcefully press your legs together to quell the rising arousal that had been building in your core. In all honesty, it had been building since the moment had said he loved you, back at the dining table over dinner. 

 “Well, because I love you so much, and you've been so good for me tonight, I'll give in to you, darling.” Your boyfriend’s hands gripped your waist, hoisting you up from the counter and into the air. You wrapped your legs around his torso, as he led the two of you out of the kitchen and into your shared bedroom. The whole way, you clutched onto his shoulders tightly, heart racing with anticipation. 

 He laid you down atop the bed, and the silence took over. He said nothing, as he reached forward, taking ahold of your jeans zipper and single button and pulling them free. Then, all at once, he was shucking your pants off in one fluid movement, his eyes never leaving yours as he cast them aside on the ground. Jisung reached behind him, clutching at his shirt before hoisting it over his head and discarding it somewhere next to you. 

 You swallowed audibly at the sight of his bare chest. The only light shining in the bedroom was a dim nightlight plugged into the far wall near the bathroom, and its amiable hue cast an ethereal kind of glow across his tanned skin. The well-toned muscles on his arms seemed to shimmer in the light, the definition of his abs rippling with every breath he took. For the most part, during your quickies within the past few months, he hadn’t undressed that much. It mainly just consisted of him tearing his pants down, pushing your panties aside, and finishing within ten minutes. There was nothing romantic about it, which is why you absolutely hated it. 

 Biting your lip at it all, you squirmed underneath him. He liked your reaction to him, liked the way you ogled his chest. It was evident by the way a lazy grin broke across his face. “Your turn,” is all he said, before diving into you and pressing a fervent kiss against your mouth.

 Within a few breaths, he had your shirt off and was working at unclasping your bra. At the thought of him seeing you naked save for your panties, panic suddenly started to rise into your throat. You hadn’t fully laid out in front of him in a very long time. What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if you were ugly to him after such a prolonged period of not seeing you? 

 “W-Wait,” you managed to get out, swallowing thickly. Jisung’s fingers instantly stopped at your bra clasp. 

 Worry started to fill his eyes as he said, “Do you not want to-” 

 “No!” You blurted out, a little too quickly for your good. Your hastiness was made clear then, and a tiny, pleased smile spread across Jisung’s mouth at the sight of it. “It’s just… what if you don’t like what you see?” 

 His eyes narrowed as he stared down at you, a frown darkening his face. “Why in the world would you ever even think that?” 

 Your breath turned shallow, limbs shaky at the swarthy look he was leveling your way. He had always hated when you doubted yourself- when you questioned his attraction to you and your body. “I-I don’t know… it’s just been, a long time since you’ve seen me like this, that’s all.” Your eyes pulled away from his defined chest, locking with his once more. “I’m worried you won’t… like what you see.” 

 Jisung didn’t allow you to say anything else then, as he tipped down into you and pressed a feverish kiss against your mouth. “Baby girl, don’t ever say such things like that again, I love you so much. You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” He rumbled against your lips before his kisses began to travel around your face. He pecked the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead, before coming back to your lips. “Now, may I see you? Will you allow me to show you how much I care about you - how much I love you?” 

 You found yourself nodding your head in a frenzy, sucking in your bottom lip in anticipation. Your boyfriend flashed you a pleased smile before his fingers made quick work of your bra. Not five beats later, he had it off of you and laying on the floor near the bed. At the feel of being completely naked underneath him save for your soaked panties, you fought the urge to squirm and cover yourself up. 

 “Fuck,” he practically growled out the words at the sight of your bare form. “You’re so pretty, sweetheart,” his eyes trailed away from your exposed chest, locking with your eyes once more. “Love you- shit, love your body so fucking much.” He murmured against your skin, as he pressed a few kisses against your jaw.

 “J-Ji-” you mewled at the feeling of his mouth traveling down the column of your neck. His teeth bit into the warm flesh, leaving love marks for the next day. His lips sucked down on your clavicle, fingers digging into your bare hips. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at the black locks hard as his mouth moved down the centre of your sternum. 

 “Always thinking about you- you know that, princess?” He mused against your skin, mouth circling one of your breasts with a smattering of kisses. “My mind always comes back to you in the dead of night, when I’m alone in the studio. I daydream about this very sight- having you under me, quaking from my touch alone.” Then his lips were hovering over one of your pebbled nipples, hot breath fanning against gooseflesh. “Because only I get to do this, right? Only I get to see you utterly bare like this…” 

 Your focus was completely on your boyfriend, as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against your breast. “Y-Yes, only you get to have me.” You mewled out, clutching at his roots a little harder when his hot tongue darted out and drew a long stripe across your raised nipple. A hiss left your lips at the action. 

 “Shit, baby- love your tits so much,” he muttered in a quiet voice. His tongue swirled around your sensitive bud, then he was fitting his entire mouth over your mound, taking in as much of you as he could. He lapped and licked at your breast, teeth coming down to graze against your puckered nipple. You felt one of his hands leave your hips, and travel up your side until just stopping at your other breast. There, he filled his palm with your enflamed flesh, rolling your throbbing bud between his fingers. You were a groaning mess under his tongue, writhing with pleasure. 

 “F-Feel so good, babe,” you whispered, yanking on his hair and pressing his face closer to your chest as he continued to pay ardent attention to your breast. 

 After a few beats, he pulled away, mouth red and puffy, leaving a trail of hot saliva around your breast. “I fantasize about these all the time- imagining what it’d feel like at that moment to take your gorgeous nipples into my mouth.” His eyes flitted up to yours, which were still locked on where he was pleasuring your chest. “Fuck- almost every day, I pump myself dry to the thought of your beautiful tits bouncing up and down as you ride my cock so perfectly- as I spread your legs and take you fully, as I pound into your flawless little cunt from behind.”

 “Y-You thought about me like that, even after all this time?” The surprise drips into your tone, cheeks heating up with rosiness as his head moves over to your other breast that his hand had been playing with. Your heart leaped wildly in your chest at his movements, and you felt the juices practically dripping out of your core, skating down the inside of your thighs. Because truly, you had never known. You had just assumed that, for the past few months, you’d never crossed his mind… after such a long period of the intimacy waning between the two of you... 

 He smiled against your skin, pressing a fiery kiss against your nipple that had yet to be lapped at by his tongue. “Of course I did, babydoll. You’re always on my mind- you never left it, not even for a single moment.” 

 You squeezed your eyes shut, savouring the way that he fit his mouth around you in a perfect kind of way. Your fingers shook slightly as you carded them through his silky locks, trying to get as close to him as possible. The moans fled from your lips freely, and the breath caught in your throat at the feel of his clothed bulge pressing against one of your thighs, close to where you needed him most. He was still clad in his tight skinny jeans. 

 “Baby- n-need you,” you whined after he had pulled away from your breast a few beats later, his face flushed with so much lust. His gaze locked with yours, pupils like twin pools of fire that were so fucking scorching, as he stared down at you, studying your kiss-swollen lips and fluttering eyelids. 

 “You need me, hmm?” He traced a single index finger down the middle of your chest, nearing your waist. “Where do you need me, princess? Tell me…” His finger trekked down one of your legs, starting to draw tiny shapes in the skin of your inner thigh. “You need me right here, on your thighs?” 

 “N-No-” you managed to say in a quiet voice. A velvety hush came over the entire bedroom, as you watched his finger slowly trace up your skin until the slim digit was just outside the line of your panties. 

 “You need me here, baby girl? Between your legs, touching your warmth?” He pushed the nude-colored panties aside a bit, and immediately, his finger was slicked with your arousal. “Damn it- you’ve soaked through this shit.” Jisung grabbed ahold of your panties and dragged them down your shivering legs before discarding them somewhere behind him. 

 “Wanted this for so long, Ji,” you started, a low buzz humming in your ears at the way his pupils darkened at the sight of your completely bare form. Finally. 

 He tipped down towards you, beginning to pepper light kisses against either of your thighs, nearing your throbbing core ever so slowly. “Oh, yeah? What did you want for so long, darling?” His voice was hushed against your skin, and you felt the desire churn in your core at the way he said the words in such a low register. The tone he only used on you - for you - late at night, when it was just the two of you, and he was filled with so much passion. 

 “Wanted you- face nestled into me, kissing my worries away, licking me clean.” A surprised squeak fled from your lips as soon as his mouth landed on top of your cunt. 

 “You’ve always had a thing for my tongue, haven’t you, princess?” Jisung said, his voice rumbling against your sensitive flesh and shooting a zap of energy to course throughout your veins. You felt him smirk against your lips, just as he delved into your heat. 

 And all at once, you were reminded of what you had been missing for so very long…

 Slender fingers prying you open slowly, 

 Practiced thumb pressing against your puffy clit, 

 Kisses peppered up the length of your warmth, 

 Tongue drawing a stripe down your lips, 

 Before thrusting into you, tasting your very essence. 

 You bucked your hips against your boyfriend’s face, loving the way he twisted his tongue inside of you, the way he used his fingers to pry you open for better access, the way he traced circles around your clit. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it had been set on fire, and loud pants fell from your mouth every time he kissed you, every time he tasted you, every time he hummed against your exposed core in approval. 

 “Taste so fucking good, babydoll… like the sweetest candy on earth,” he growled after he had pulled away from you to catch his breath. This face was messy with you, lips glossy with your slick. The sight of his flushed cheeks and blown pupils alone was so fucking hot, a choked moan escaped from deep inside of you, and your hands frantically traveled down to the waistline of his jeans. 

 “N-Need you right now, baby,” you said, voice hitching slightly. It felt like your heart was beating a mile a minute against your ribcage, thoughts moving slowly inside your head like they were trapped in a thick vat of molasses. Your fingers flew at his zipper and Jisung was silent, as you worked his jeans and boxers off completely.

 His cock sprung free instantly, the head red and swollen, precum dripping out of the slit and splattering onto the bed haphazardly. You swallowed audibly at the sight of his girth. It had been a while since you had gotten a clear view of… him. And, it was mouthwatering, to say the least. You reached out, palm open and supple, as you took hold of him. 

 “Damn it- baby… you intimidated by me?” He chuckled dryly, noticing how your mouth was slightly hung open in amazement. You pumped your hands up and down his length a few times, earning a string of curses from Jisung. “Fuck- any more of that and I’ll be a goner, princess.” He ripped your hands away from him and moved so that your fingers were positioned above your head. 

 Without any guidance, you opened your legs wider, as he slotted himself between you. He clasped down hard on your hands with one palm, while the other found its way back to your core, fingers caressing your inflamed clit. You held your breath in bated silence, waiting, and watching, as Jisung’s tip neared your entrance. 

 Then, he was sliding in with one fluid, effortless movement. Your mouth fell open, breath falling in short increments, at the fullness you felt slowly taking over your entire body. It was like absolute heaven, with him slowly bottoming out, the tip of his cock hitting that fiery, gooey spot deep inside of you.

 “Alright?” Jisung’s deep voice broke you from your daze of lust. You hadn’t realized you had closed your eyes, and when they met your boyfriend’s face, there was a single crease in his brow. Like he was worried that he’d hurt you somehow. 

 “Feels so good- please, just, fuck me, Ji-” you whined, throwing your head back onto one of your pillows, a loud cry falling from your mouth as you felt him begin to move inside of you. 

 As he thrust in and out, in and out, the lewd sounds of your lovemaking overtook all of your senses - filling the room with skin slapping against skin, the smell of sex heavy in the air. Jisung set a fervent pace, reaching so far into you that every time he pulled back, and then shoved himself between your lips again, literal stars danced against the blackness of your vision. 

 “You like this, baby girl?” Jisung rasped out, as he pushed into you vigorously. You were a sopping wet mess, which made for slippery work between your legs. Still, Jisung didn’t mind, and it only seemed to edge him on even further. “Like when I fuck you nice and sweet? Is this what you’ve wanted all along, hmm?”

 Nodding your head frantically, a scream tore from deep inside of you at the feel of his fingers pressing down hard on your inflamed clit. You were practically writhing from head to toe underneath him, your arms shaking as he held them up above your head. “Y-Yes, please… don’t stop…” Your voice came out breathless and airy, as he hit a particularly fiery spot inside of you. 

 “Oh trust me, babydoll, I won’t.” His hand continued to play with your reddened bud, as he rutted into you like a man who had been starved of sex for a fucking millennium. 

 Then, you felt him move on top of you, face nearing yours and lips kissing their way up the expanse of your neck, nearing your chin, before stopping at your mouth. He stopped just then, seductive breath fanning across your face. 

 “Kiss me?” You asked, voice high and squeaky in your throat. Because at that moment, with him so close to you, his cock buried so deep, his fingers abusing you so well, you suddenly felt so fucking vulnerable.

 At the way you peered up at him with big, innocent eyes, your boyfriend immediately let go of your hands that he had been holding above your head. “Ah- baby, how can I ever say no to such a beautiful face- such a sweet voice?” He cooed down at you. Your fingers found their way into his onyx-colored hair again, slightly pulling at the roots. 

 Jisung’s scent - of maraschino cherries and sweet lollipops - overtook you, as he bent down, invading your space. The way his mouth captured your lips, tongue lapping at your own, did wonders for your throbbing heart. And all at once, you felt your high quickly approaching. 

 “Love how supple you get when I fuck you like this…” He whispered against your lips when you had both pulled away to catch your breaths. The charming, gentleness of his voice was a stark contrast to what the rest of his body was doing - how his hands now dug into either side of your hips, how he pounded into you so perfectly with a relentless pace. “So pliant and adorable- princess lets me take care of her well, yeah?” 

 He pressed another few kisses against your lips, smiling in between them at the nods that you gave him. “L-Love when you call me that… princess…” you confessed, a furious blush creeping over your cheeks at admitting such a thing. You had missed all of the pet names over the past few names. But that one? Princess? You didn’t exactly know why, but it just did something ethereal and magickal to your soul every time he called you by the endearing name. 

 “You are a princess, baby… my princess.” Jisung gripped onto your hips harder just then, slamming his cock into you so fiercely that a tiny, pathetic whimper left your mouth. “Now… can you be a good girl and cum for me, sweetheart?” He kissed you again and again, and you felt your heart swell up inside your chest from the gesture. 

 So charming. 

 So loving. 

 So soft. 

 And all at once, you were letting go. Squeezing your eyes shut desperately, galaxies exploding across the inside of your mind. Skin heating up so well, so quickly, that it felt like you had been doused in a pit of flames. Limbs shaking irrevocably, your core clenching around Jisung’s cock, as he chased his own high. You pulled at his silky waves, a string of moans rising from deep within you as you reached the peak of your arousal. 

 “F-Fuck, you take me so well- so perfect,” Jisung grunted somewhere close to your ear. In your daze of orgasmic bliss, you faintly heard him mumble praises. Praises about you, about your exquisite body, and your enchanting personality. But it was all lost on your ears amidst the dizziness of your fall. 

 Then you felt your boyfriend stiffen up inside of you, and his entire body shuttered from above as he finally found his release. You felt his seed coat your still-clenching walls, and a content sigh left you at the familiar feeling of it all. Jisung was a moaning mess on top of you, his voice growing so loud with his release, you were sure the neighbors could hear him. He hadn’t cum inside of you, without a condom on, in what felt like ages. And it felt like pure, utter euphoria. 

 Jisung continued to say soft praises into your ear as he rode out both of your highs, his thrusts turning shallow and sloppy. You moved your head, eyes opening, so that you could see the expression on his face- the tips of his ears were bright red, dark pupils were blown wide, a thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead, and his lips were pink and kiss-swollen. 

 “You’re so pretty, babe…” You surprised yourself by actually voicing your innermost thoughts. You had told him such a thing in the past, and almost always, he always batted it away. You reached up to tuck a stray piece of his messy hair behind one of his ears. 

 “You’re even prettier,” his tone was raspy from all of the groans that had fallen from his lips. He pulled out slowly then, and a small cry left you at the sudden absence of him. If you could, you’d love to live the rest of your days out with his cock buried inside of you. But alas, your dreams never seemed to come true. “Always look so celestial- like a little pixie faerie, whenever I fuck you…” Jisung flashed you an effortless grin, pecking one of your reddened cheeks, before stepping off of the bed and flitting over to the nearby bathroom to grab a towel for cleanup. 

 When he came back, the fuzziness around the corners of your mind was finally gone, and you were able to get somewhat of a grasp on your surroundings. On the way that he leaned down into you, so very close, to wipe a damp cloth against your sticky thighs. 

 “Love you.” You said at that moment. Silence had enveloped the room, as he made quick work of cleaning the two of you up. But your words seemed to crack open a little warmth into the sex-filled air. 

 Jisung’s head turned up and his gaze found yours, his sparkly, doe-like eyes widened slightly in surprise. A smile that mirrored yours just then cracked on his lips, and he was soon trekking over to you, where you were still sprawled out atop the bed's rumpled sheets. 

 “And I love you, too.” The last thing you saw before he took your face into either of his hands was his grin, and how it looked maniac-like. The last thing you saw was the look of pure adoration and love shining across his face, as he pulled you close to him and kissed you sweetly. 

 Because even though things hadn’t been that great between you for the past few months, 

 And even though he had been absent for a long time, 

 And even though your guys’ sex life had gone down the proverbial drain, 

 Things had somehow turned around. 

 He had turned things around. 

 With the beautifully-planned dinner, the delicious food, the tender words, the sweet kisses, and the much-needed lovemaking. 

 So things could only go up from here… 

 As long as you two guys had each other, 

 And as long as you kept fighting for what mattered- 

 For the relationship- 

 For each other- 

 Things would somehow work themselves out, eventually. 

Fin. 

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© ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇ

[xxavengingangelxx]

Somewhere Only We Know 4/?

Part 4, loves!

Triggers: Flashbacks/nightmares about torture, mentions of self-harm, mentions of suicide, mentions of possibly abusing a pregnant woman (neither party knew yet), mindfuckery Graves playing mind games, possessive behavior. Let me know if I forgot any!

Taglist! @unicorngirly1 (thanks for the ideas, love!), @sharksausages, @bellgraves, @josieguts, @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl - if you want in, let me know :)

A/N: This is entirely new territory for me! Lots of ups and downs in this one. Let me know what ya'll think! These chapters are getting harder to write, I'm not sure why! It might be because of my overwhelming work schedule and exhaustion. But I love this fic :)

Val experiences ups and downs in her first few days back with Shadow Company. Graves increases security but Val still feels vulnerably, especially when she finds out she's still expected to be in the field to help put an end to Makarov, a man she is terrified of.

-

You woke up to someone with their hands on your arms. You forgot you were back with Graves and lashed out. Or you tried to. He subdued you easily.

“It’s me, Val,” he said quietly.

You sat up. He was dressed. You weren’t. The scratches on your arms were worse than you thought.

“Why’d you do that to yourself?”

“It was a lot. It just brought back bad memories,” you responded. You were getting teary-eyed. Again. Fuck these hormones. “Shit, they drugged me, restrained me. They had me in cuffs and were about to lock me up—”

He hadn’t seen you cry in months. The last time Graves had seen you cry was when you were being tortured for information. You covered your face, trying to keep from sobbing.

So Graves, surprisingly, just held you until your tears stopped. Bandages were placed on the worst scrapes.

Graves had done that before. He’d patched you up plenty of times after his men were finished ripping you to pieces while interrogating you. Your schooling background told you he had done that to get you to associate him with comfort and to make it more likely that you open up to him (and you did; you eventually broke under all that torture and gave Graves exactly what he wanted).

But one thing Graves had not done before, ever, was hold you. Sure, you’d both laid around in bed after having sex but that was a far cry from Graves holding you for comfort.

“Shepherd hadn’t made me aware it had gone that far,” Graves’s voice was calm, weirdly soothing. “Wait,” Graves gently pushed you out of his arms and those deep blue eyes met your darker, red-rimmed ones.

“So they were about to lock you up, and you were steps away from being put in a cell,” Graves stated.

“Yessir?”

“You can knock off the sir unless we’re roleplayin’, darlin,” Graves smirked. His tone then turned serious. “Why didn’t you break? You would’ve gotten way better treatment if you’d just talked, told ‘em everything about me, Shadow Company, everything.” Graves paused before adding, “About everything we did to you.”

“I couldn’t. You were just following orders.” you said simply. “It’s—I’m—I’m—I don’t know how to explain it. I’m weirdly attached to you. And I’m convinced it’s just gonna stay that way forever. You’re never gonna let me get away are you?” You stopped before adding, “Be honest,”

“Hell no,” Graves answered immediately. “I wasn’t gonna let you go before but now that you’ve got my kid? Never.”

“And what would you have done to me if I’d talked?”

Graves didn’t answer.

“Or maybe not you but your men.”

“Tread carefully, Val,” Graves warned darkly.

That tone, that look, let you know that if you pushed enough buttons in the right order on the wrong day, Graves wouldn’t hesitate to at least smack you.

“I’m scared of you, Graves,” you finally admitted. “And while they’ve saved my life several times in the field, I’m terrified of your men.”

And the next question slipped from your mouth before you had a chance to stop it. “Would you have had them hurt me knowing I’m pregnant? If I’d talked at that hospital?”

The look in Graves’s eyes said it all. It took every ounce of strength in his body not to at least shove you. But he restrained himself. You saw an inner battle in that blue gaze, kind of like a bright, blue-sky summer day being interrupted by storm clouds but with the storm not quite gaining enough strength.

“Phil,” his voice was much softer than expected. And the look on his face was one you’d never seen before. Concern? Regret? Shame? Alarm? “I need an honest answer to the next question I’m going to ask you,” his voice gained an edge but it was no longer near as intimidating as it had been a minute ago when he’d warned you to tread carefully, Val.

“We’ve been—together so to speak since—”

“You mean we’ve been fucking since the first night we met when 141 introduced me to you, yes,” you added shamelessly. Only you had expected that relationship to be a meaningless friends with benefits stress release on the battlefield. You two were the only Southern Americans on the blended unit and so you connected and you started fucking. Harmless, right? Now look where you were. You wondered just when Graves became obsessed with you.

Graves didn’t take comfort in your attempt at humor and again, you hadn’t smiled in over 3 months now so neither did you. You wanted to get to the bottom of what he was asking because you hated him questioning you about anything. It tended to bring back bad memories.

“Did I have you tortured while you were pregnant?” Graves asked. “How far along are you?”

And a tiny part of yourself wanted to make Graves to feel like shit for doing what he did to you. What had done to you had been war crimes. But the brainwashed part of yourself overwhelmed that rational part of your brain.

“I don’t know,” you responded. Besides, you were terrified of what he would do or what he would order his men to do to you if he found out you lied and said that yes you are 100 percent sure you had been pregnant when he’d had you tortured. “I’m between 2 and 3 months.”

“Holy shit,” Graves counted on shaky fingers. And then his gaze met yours when he made the connections in his brain. It was entirely possible that you were ether pregnant or became pregnant shortly after he’d had you tortured. “But that’s an estimate,”

“Yessir. Most likely between 2 and 3 months. I just didn’t show cuz…all the gear and the required exercise routine and I’m on the smaller side.”

“So there’s a possibility I—”

“I don’t think you tortured me while I was pregnant,” but were you really a hundred percent sure of that? The hospital had told you in clear words: “How far along you are right now is an estimate. You could be further along. The detention facility you’re going to is going to have to call in an OB to get your history and run other tests. We’re just not too confident in how far along you are other than to say you’re about 2-3 months.” Hell, you’d wondered back then if Graves had indeed had you tortured while you were pregnant.

But here you were again trying to protect him.

-

Graves had stepped out a while ago.

You were exhausted and your head pounded. You were again feeling sick and seriously fuck these hormones because you were teary-eyed again.

You cried yourself to sleep.

-

You dreamt of your initial captivity with Graves. When he was still having you tortured. Only at that point he had started introducing hypnotic and mind altering drugs to try and get you to break.

You were strapped down after you’d freaked out and pulled that IV out of your arm in a second attempt to take your life. You’d been beaten, tortured, sleep deprived, and now you were being drugged. A nurse practitioner and combat medic, Shadow 10-4, had been put in charge of balancing your medical needs and trying to get answers out of you using drugs.

Everything kept going from muffled to painfully sharp and loud. You were drifting in and out of consciousness although you probably looked unconscious to Graves who was standing in the room having a conversation with none other than his superior, Shepherd.

“She’s not gonna break, General,” Graves’s voice went to sounding far away to sounding like he was shouting in your face. He sat next to you. Right next to you and his weight, his scent, his presence made you want to get the hell away from him but you were restrained and you were getting more and more intoxicated off of whatever the hell they were pumping into your veins.

You tried to focus on the oxygen catheter pumping oxygen into your nose rather than Graves’s voice because Graves’s voice was nightmare fuel right now. He was the one commanding his men and telling them what to do when they ripped you apart looking for the codes to those homing beacons.

Your drugged out mind reminded you that there was a 10-year age gap between Graves and you. He was about 10 years older than you. The volume on his phone was set to be just loud enough to where you could hear it. So when he sat next to you to talk to his superior, your suddenly ultra sensitive ears picked up on what Shepherd was saying.

Or were you hallucinating?

“Keep the prisoner focused on their own self-preservation and eventually they will break.”

“General, we’ve broken men in hours and we’ve had her for days. She won’t break.” Graves paused before adding, “Let’s stop.”

“Now you’re outta your damn mind,” you heard Shepherd snap. “Stop letting your feelings for this brat cloud your judgement. She’s listed in your paperwork as an enemy combatant, is she not?” he demanded.

“Yes, sir, she is,” Graves conceded.

“Treat ‘er like one,” Shepherd ordered. “You haven’t done any of it yourself have you? Tortured her.”

“I give the order—”

“Not what I’m askin, soldier,”

“I can’t sir. I cannot.”

“Are you limiting your men in what they can do?” Shepherd sighed.

Graves didn’t answer.

“If she doesn’t break in the next day, I’m gonna come in and break her myself,”

-

You awoke with a start. When it came to these dreams, you weren’t sure if they were complete fabrications of your imagination or whether they were partially true or if they were something else entirely. Had Graves really wanted to stop trying to break you?

Now that you were back with Graves you reached towards the nightstand, looking for something. Graves’s men had shared with you a bad habit: vaping.

And when you found yourself getting emotionally overwhelmed, you found yourself doing two things: vaping and blasting music. But you didn’t have your headphones. For some reason, you hadn’t gotten those back from when you’d been detained. 141, the police, and the military had thought they might be wired as explosives.

You quickly learned that you didn’t have your vape either. If you knew Graves well, and you felt like you did, it was just one of the many minute details of your life that now Graves would ensure to have complete control over.

-

You were still trying to get used to Graves holding you just because he wanted to it seemed. It caused anxiety still because when he’d held you all those months ago it was to restrain you or hurt you. Even now you shook just slightly in his arms. Whether that was from fear, nicotine withdrawals, hormones, all of the above, or something else you did not know.

He still scared you and couldn’t he tell you were uncomfortable? It wasn’t like Graves to care. It seemed that your relationship would continue to be toxic, just in an entirely different way. Instead of being physically abusive, he was going to be physically and mentally overbearing. He would control every aspect of your existence and whenever that poor kid was born? Graves would control their existence, too.

“Why you hummin’, darlin’?” his voice made you jump. “Get your headphones and listen to something.”

“They didn’t give ‘em back to me when they handed me over to Shepherd,” you responded.

“That’s just fuckin’ cruel,” Graves commented. “No wonder you agreed to come back to me. Consider them replaced.”

“I can’t vape, can I?”

“No ma’am,” he drawled. “Took that shit before you even got back. That was a bad habit my boys taught ya.” He paused before adding, “I still wanna know why you didn’t talk. They were about to lock you up.”

“I wasn’t gonna betray the father of my child,” You said.

And just like that, Graves’s mood switched. “Shepherd was right,” he smirked. “You’d make great wife material.”

There was that word again: wife.

-

“I’ve got my boys staying here watching you,” Graves’s voice drew you out of a light slumber. Your eyes stung and you were nauseous. Graves’s kid hadn’t even been born yet and he was already giving you a hard time. “Plus I’ve got something for added security.”

And while you still did not completely feel safe around Graves’s men, they had saved your ass more than once in the field. You were too tired, too exhausted to talk. And you were scared that if you opened your mouth that you’d be sick.

One of the last things you heard was Graves telling one of his men just outside the door asking about you that you should be okay. Graves told him to just give you some space until he got back. That you felt warm and didn’t seem like you were feeling well.

The only thing you hoped for was that Graves would hold off on telling Shadow Company about the pending addition because while you somewhat trusted them to keep you safe, there was no fucking way in hell you’d trust any of those men with your child. Those men had beaten and tortured you for days on end.

Those were your last thoughts before you passed out from exhaustion.

-

The door squeaked open. It didn’t open much but someone or something slipped in. The bed dipped and you felt something wet on your face.

“Graves, c’mon man,”

Was he licking your face?!

“That’s Riley,”

You jumped up, covering yourself with the sheets. There was a large German Shepherd next to you, licking your face.

“Riley?” You remembered that 141 or it’s allies had a dog named Riley once.

Was it the same dog?

“It’s not the same dog,” Graves clarified. “I just named it the same just to fuck with ‘em,” he smirked.

You felt a twinge in your chest when you heard Graves said he still liked messing with 141.

“We’re not gonna get along,” Graves read your mind. “They took you from me and I don’t play that shit, sweetheart,”

“He’s mine?” Riley sniffed at your still-damp hair and it made you—

“All yours and you need to—” Graves looked at you and he paused, stop talking.

It took a moment to get Riley away.

“Now that’s somethin’ I’d pay to see more often,” Graves smiled genuinely.

You were confused. “What?”

“That smile,” Graves pointed out. “I haven’t seen that in 3 months.”

-

“It’s just air support,” Graves explained. “We have a lead on Makarov and chemical weapons he’s been stockpiling.”

And while you’d been playing with Riley on the floor of the conference room, smiling when he licked your face, Graves got your attention by calling your name.

“That’s where you and Riley come in,” Graves added.

Wait…Graves was expecting you to have boots on the ground when Makarov was involved?

“He’s not primarily an attack dog but will attack if you’re in danger. He’s mainly a bomb sniffing dog.”

After that, Riley wandered away thanks to Shadows offering treats and so he made his way around the table before returning to you and plopping down heavily in your lap. You turned the rest of the briefing out because even though you’d thought Graves was going to be removing you from the field entirely given your condition, he was basically putting you within Makarov’s reach.

And so you promised yourself that if Makarov captured you, you’d take yourself out, pregnant or not. There was no way you could repeat the whole capture, torture, breaking process. No way.

But you were convinced you knew Graves well, and you told yourself that since 141 got their hands on you and he almost lost you, he wasn’t willing to leave you behind anywhere. He was going to continue dragging you and your child all over the world if needed as long as he had you within arm’s reach.

Graves thought you were his property. And you were wondering if he would see his child as his property, as another way to control you.

You told yourself he would.

“You look nervous, darlin’” Graves smiled at you when you were the only two left in that large conference room. “I know just the thing to calm you down,” he winked suggestively.

[peachesancreams]

Death of Devils and Angels

Hey ya! Took a while cause I researched something’s but! I hope ya'll enjoy this as much as I did writing it

Alastor and Rosamund

It had been a regular day for Rosamund and Alastor so far, but most unexpected things happen on normal days. They had been short on their meat supply, Alastor insisting on having it in most meals always joking about being partly carnivorous. The garden was plentiful, always having at least a few vegetables, and if not there the swamp and surrounding forest always yielded something for them.

Alastor had given her a kiss on the forehead, taken his rifle and went off into the woods. When he went hunting it always took him a while, sometimes well into the next day. He had a hunting shack in the woods that he and his father had been to when he was child. Sometimes he stays overnight, but given the need for meat he had said to expect him back before the sunsets.

She had waited, and waited, made a small meal out of the veggies and little meat left. Then Rosamund anxiously paced from the dining room into the living room. Finally sitting on the couch and reading to settle her mind, she didn't notice time pass. Anxious from the evening she had fallen asleep on the sofa, unknowing of Alastors eternal fate.

In the morning there was a hard knock on her door, startling her out of her slumber. Looking around she could feel dread well up inside her. Al always either joined her on the couch, or carried her to bed.

So why hadn't he this time? Was he still not home? If so, why?

Getting up, feeling all her bones creak, her knee actually popping and causing her to stumble. When she opened up the door, it was a officer. That made her blood go cold, watching the very solemn look on his face as he pulled his hat off.

"Ma'am I'm so sorry to be the one to give the news but...you're husband Alastor has been killed. A hunter whom we currently have in custody, we suspect is the local murderer. He's been at large for a while and seems he was trying to cover up a double murder."

The cop kept talking, Rosamund could see him talking but nothing was registering. Her chest felt tight, huffing and puffing more audibly until the black fully took over and her eyes finally rolled back. When she came to the officer was still there, having moved her over to the couch. He tried explaining and she registered a bit more information than before but everything became sort of...muffled. Nodding along didn't seem to make things go much faster either. Finally he seemed satisfied and left and all the noise in the world seemed to have stopped.

It was when he had knelt in front of her she’d felt part of herself come back, just enough to hear him softly say.

“Ma’am I know this is hard but…we need someone to identify him. We all know who he is but…we need someone he knows to comfirm.” A sob broke out, hunching over as they racked through her frame. She seized that feeling quickly and stifled it, no need for the man to watch her hysteria.

Her Al is gone. He’s gone and they want her to tell them it’s him for sure. Breathing in and out at a steady pace, she collected herself best she can to respond.

“I-If I must, but I must apologize as I will not be in the best state so please don’t hold it against me.”

“It’s quite alright ma’am and understandable, given the circumstances…”

The ride to the precinct wasn’t any better, the young man obviously felt uncomfortable but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop her tears, muffling the occasional sob behind her hand. They had to take the long way, going round and pulling up to the back entrance of the building seeing as interns from the radio station and every journalist in New Orleans was crowding the front. Someone spotted them cause there was a yell and then they were rushing towards them. She saw lights go off here and there, the photographers that work side by side with the journalists. Some more police came out to keep them back, as the young man who brought her escorted her inside. They yelled questions at her as she stepped into the building (“What the last thing you and Alastor talked about?” “When he left that night did anything seem unusual?” “Have you any clue as to who the murdered might be ma’am?”), and when the doors closed they pivoted to as the police men(“Rumor is Alastor Hartfelt was murdered while out hunting, if so why not release the name of who the killer is?” “Is it the murderer who’s been plaguing New Orleans?” “Did you get a motive for the murder?”).

Inside wasn't any better. It smelled thickly of tobacco, you could see smoke on the ceiling trailing back from the bull pen. The young officer asked her to wait a moment, and soon the sheriff came out and brought her to a very cold area. The mourge.

Swallowing she wrapped her arms around herself, walking towards the metal table with a white sheet covering her husband. The coroner lifted the sheet for her and she couldn't help but gag. Covering her mouth and turning around quickly she attempted to swallowed her dread and bile before turning her head just so they hear her.

"I...Its him. Its Alastor." The coroner gave her a pat on the shoulder, giving her condolences as the sheriff guided her back outside. Rosemond's mind was dragging itself through muck and fog, her senses feeling both hyperaware and extremely dull at the same time. Once out the sheriff awkwardly pated her shoulder knocking her out of the mental fog and said that they had called a car for her. He turned toward the oncoming mob of reporters and started to address them and their questions.

It was with that she realized he had brought them to the front of the station, so not only reporters but many civilians now stared at the confirmed widow. She just covered her face with a handkerchief, shoulders shaking. They had tried questioning her as well but backed off when they realized all she could do at the moment was sob. Rosamund wished she wasn't so close, wished the car was here now so she didn’t have to hear or see anyone.

The sheriff to appease the growing crowd, was giving them a statement on the murder. They had actually found two bodies, Al's and another resident of New Orleans, though one of a less reputable reputation. The murderer had been at large in New Orleans going after similar gentleman to the later victim. Many were rumored to have done horrible things some even had been on the force. They suspected the murderer, a local hunter, had been spotted burying the body by Alastor while he had been out hunting. The less reputable man they suspect had just been more planed out, but without a proper autopsy it’s only speculation.

He had started going into detail about Alastors death having more visual ques to tell them his cause of death unfortunately.Thankfully the cab came finally so Rosamund quickly fled into the car, covering her mouth as she cried. Once in the car itself she stuttered out her address and went back to mourning.

Once home she couldn't bring herself to do anything. Rosamund sat on the couch, her husbands unusually pale face in her mind. She saw the bullet hole, there was no way for them to hide it from her. It was at the center of his forehead. She stared at the taxidermy deer that decorated their living room walls blankly. Looking around the room she noted how nothing had been cleaned, she hadn't made anything for the day and the garden hadn't been tended to at all. Usually Al would be chatting away as she listened, his favorite audience, he's always so talkative....was talkative. The silence now closing in on her with its truth, the silence was becoming so loud. It screamed without stop 'He's gone! He's gone! He's gone!' Standing she mechanically moved toward the radio turning the dial.

"-oved Radio Host Alastor Hartfelt is confirmed to be the latest and la-" Click. Her whole frame trembled as she collapsed onto the floor, not needing to muffle or hide her grief for anyone now. She stayed there even after the tears stopped feeling so a bone deep exhaustion take over her heart. Slowly she got up and stumbled along till she found their liquor cabinet. Grabbing Al's preferred bourbon she considered drinking straight from the bottle. Shaking her head she grabbed a glass and sat down at the table, pouring herself a drink.

She doesn't remember much after the second glass. Not a big fan of the darker liquors, a sweet red being her usual preference. Rosamund knows she stopped though, spotty as her memory was if it wasn't completely gone then well it isn't a black out drunk kind of night. She remembers stepping out onto the porch looking at the stars, giggling for Al to come see them only to cry herself to sleep.

This made waking up torture because the sun went right into her eyes. It was all so blurry and her stomach rolled violently, thankfully Al and her lived near the swamps, so puking in the bushes wasn't seen by anyone. Stumbling back into the house she made her way towards the bathroom, needing to get herself together. One night, to grieve, and now she had to be put together enough to....arrange everything.

The process of filling up the bath took her a while, but once it was done she released a bone deep sigh. Her body wanted to rest but her mind….a small part of her brain refused to not think of Alastor. She idly thought to herself she probably always will.

Stepping slowly into hot the water she slowly released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Sinking down she leaned her head back a bit so it leaned on the side. The water felt so nice and warm, along with still being tired from last night....

Eyes so easily slipped closed, breathing slowed to gentle puffs.

Being asleep she didn't realize her body slowly slipped down the tub.

It doesn't take more then two inches of water to drown someone after all.

Rosamund had been confused on waking up to soft pastel clouds and opulent golden gates. She hadn't realized she had passed. Saint Peter cleared that up for her and then actually told her he had someone to summon, as they'd been waiting to welcome me.

Clasping her hands over her heart she held back her smile. Alastor hadn't been very open in his worship to God but it seems he held him closer heart then she thought, but thank heaven he had made...it.....here?

Saint Peter guided over a kind looking doe woman, her hair in the Gibson girl style. Her outfit was old fashioned more 1910's then the more recent 20s styles, a simple light pink blouse tucked into a long dove grey skirt. She had thick gold rimmed glasses and a straw hat, her deer ears(doe ears?) laying flat under the hat. The older woman adjusted her glasses, blinking in confusion at the newly arrived angelic reptilian like woman. The kindly old woman looked as confused as Rosamund felt.

They stared at each other for a minute before the woman with Saint Peter turned to look at him with skepticism, "Where is this? I...I thought I was coming to see him??"

The saint gave a nervous laugh and flew towards me, putting his hands on my shoulders making me tense lightly at the unwanted touch. "Ah, no I'm sorry Ma'am. This is his wife however! Angela Hartfelt, meeeeet~ Rosamund Hartfelt!"

The man floated beside the two of them giving jazz hands, even if his face had a nervous smile. They stared at him, making his smile quiver before looking at each other again. They quietly observed each other for a minute. Minus the added animal features, Mrs. Angela looked similar to how she’d been in life. Rosamund noted Mrs.Hartfelts pinkish red hair, like a pink desert rose. The woman's skin tone was the same as in life, a beautiful mocha color. A thought accrued to Rosamund and she turned to look at the angel troubled, "So...Al isn't here?"

At her question the blonde man wince.

"Oh noooooo, ahem! No. He uh he did not make it….up here."

Feeling her hands being grasped by callused hands she looks back to her mother-in-law. Looking into the older womans eyes, Rosa sees the sad acceptance in her eyes.

Rosamund is slowly pulled into a loving embrace, gently rocked side to side, oh she's crying again. That small hope of seeing him again crushed so swiftly she couldn't even fully register the hurt in her heart. Guess there is a lot of feeling in the moment. Closing her eyes she returns her mother-in-laws hug.

Pastels and gold, fluffy clouds and equally fluffy wings. There was a lot to get used to in the afterlife, but one thing that had gave her true pause was her appearance. A reptile for sure, the rough grey/green scales gave that away. No claws but she has slightly sharper teeth then average. Her hair was two toned. Honestly it reminded her of a swamp with a algae on top. A light dullish green over a amber like brown. She found the no ears very strange at first but summed it up to her more reptilian nature. For all the rainbow pastels heaven had to offer she was rather plain, with the dull greens and browns. Rosa never did like standing out, that was her lovely showoff of a husband.

Rosa had finally decided to ask about a year later, the seraphim what he had done to be down there. Her mother-in-law had advised her not to ask.

"Somethings are better left unknown dear." She had such a complex expression it was hard to tell what the old woman was feeling let alone thinking. Rosamund had been brought to a grey meeting room where Sera, a rather tall seraphim with a elegant appearance explained in a calm voice her husband was a murderer. Not just any either, the very one he frequently reported on and the one police had claimed the man who killed him had been. It was his murder he had been burying when hunting dogs had followed the scent of blood.

She'd went back to her and her mother-in-laws shared living space, and found Angela waiting with cups of coffee and cake. Rosamund sat down in a daze as the older woman looked out the front window.

"Alastors father was a violent man. Towards both of us." Rosa slowly looked up at the woman, it was the first thing either have them said since they sat down. Angelas eyes were wet, a deep sadness to her entire being. "I knew Al was capable of great evil, saw it in his eyes....wasn't the same as his fathers but had the same core. Violence and wrath.

As years passed they both decided to open a shop of some kind. It isn't necessary to have a job in heaven, but it does help pass the time. Eternity is a extremely long time after all. They lived together in a two story house that looked straight out of the French Quarter, so instead of trying to petition a shop they converted the ground floor to look like a tea room. Angela, much like her dear son, loved black coffee. Unlike him however she enjoyed it with a side of spice cake. As Alastors wife Rosamund learned to brew and enjoy enjoy coffee but usually added cream and honey to take off the bitter edge. Actually on one occasion that they were enjoying a cup together is how they decided to make a elegant coffee house!

Angela had taught her son everything she knows, and know Rosamund understood why he'd always lamented that his mothers food was better. It was simply amazing. From the savory to the sweet, when her Mother-in-Law left her kitchen window open many angels would pause mid flight at the delicious aroma.

The first day they had opened Heartfelt Corner, just before opening their doors Angela took her scaled hand in her own and bowed her head to say a prayer. Mrs. Hartfelt did this any time she felt it was important. This prayer was for patience should they need it and for Saint Matthew to bless any possible finances.

(On his penthouse balcony a angel sneezed then looked around confused. “Who’s talking about me??”)

When they opened the doors for the first time, it started rough, no customers for a while. Angela had decided to leave the doors open at one point, and that's when people started to trickling in. Rosamund had the firm opinion that it was Angela's food that drew people in, the smell was always wonderfully appealing no matter what it was.

After a few years the coffee room was very popular. Towards the 50's people started to call it The Heart Café, as apparently coffee houses started to become very popular! Many ladies liked how they'd styled it after a tea room and the 'coffee room specials' meant to mimic a tea room experience but with coffee. Busy gentlemen that came in enjoyed that they could have a quick cup and a sweet.

More cafes opened as tea rooms died down but not out, but Heartfelt became a staple of the Café community. They had only expanded once, and that was to make a back area for outdoor seating as well as two tables out front.

They didn't need to advertise much and if they did it was only via Radio. Angela was very camera shy, while Rosamund never liked so much direct attention. A catlike show woman had come in once, asking them if they would like to be on her show. They declined but she'd mentioned them anyway bringing in a wave of younger generations.

Some complain about the lack of electricity, well more about the lack of out links? No matter, they fashioned a little news and book-nook corner and the complaints died down somewhat.

Rosas after life kept moving on, but whenever someone orders a black coffee she cant help but think of her dear husband. The same happens when she's listening to talk radio for too long. Some try to emulate the hosts of old talking about the news around Heavens Gate. Where the newest generations have a bunch of hosts talk to each other! Can't remember the name the kids told her but her and Mother refer to it as the Hosts Chat. Al probably hates them.

There she goes again, he is never far in her mind. Yes he was....is? A murderer but she's long come to terms with the fact she does still love him.

Hell suited him just fine. Gore didn't bother him, nor how the color red bleed through every available pore the circles had. Alastor grew a taste for human flesh, when he was dropped down in what was the wonderland district he was ravenous.

Starving and angry he tore through that wanna be Overlords district and then kept up the trend. He learned his powers over the radio very quickly, the mic being sentient definitely helped. It didn't tell Al in any straight forward way, rather guided or pushed him in the right direction.

Next to nothing came down into the after life with him, only his rifle and two pictures. The rifle was on a mantle over his fireplace when he summons his incorporeal swamp territory. Surrounded but deer and other prey he's hunted in life.

The pictures are hidden away in a pocket watch that laid under his rifle. The style of it is called double hunter. On one side is of his mother, back straight with her hands folded neatly in her lap. The opposite sides photo was ripped, his human self torn out leaving only her. His pretty wife, in her white wedding gown. Her head was turned to the side, eyes and smile on the camera. His Rosamund had barely glanced for the picture so incandescently happy in that moment.

No need to dawdle on what can not be! The present is what matters, and in the present he has to be rid of his chains.

[meatriarch]

MEATRIARCH OVERVIEW.

m'kay so -- mostly putting this together as both a quick look for new faces & a lil' refresher for those who've been following for a while but also as a general overview on not just how i run things but also on my muses, their portrayals, some blog updates, and so on! ♡ meant for clarity & hopefully ensure there's no confusion about certain things i may mention on the dash but always feel free to shoot me a message / ask for anything further! ♡

MARIA AURORA FLORES.

starting off with my main girl, my pride & joy, my sunshine incarnate. i write maria as someone very warm & with a whole mess of love to shower on those she cares about. she is achingly sweet, doting, affectionate; she adores her friends, adores her mama & sister, has a complicated relationship with her father. i've done quite a bit to flesh her out beyond what gun's put out for her in the slightest & i love where she's grown over the months since adding her onto the roster. she is my main / primary muse -- so know i constantly yap and ramble about her, i have headcanons and lore posts sprinkled all over the blog & the archived blog. i love & adore her as a muse and she's become both incredibly special to me & easily one of my absolute favorite characters to write as. that being said, with how much i've added to her, i view my portrayal of her as more oc at this point than a character of gun -- unfridged my girl, yanked her away from them and took off with her lmao alot of what i've built with her was both greatly helped by the dynamics weaved together with my affiliates / mains' portrayals which i'll get to later on ♡ but know some things may not carry over into interactions between my maria & any duplicates of my affiliates' muses!

ANA FLORES.

i haven't gone through much writing for ana yet -- but know when i do speak of ana in a general sense on here? i am specifically referring to my own ana & my personal flores' family lore! if i refer to other ana's in future posts i'll most likely note so either by, for example, ' renee's ana ' or if its to that point in plotting, then with a dynamics tag on the post! otherwise assume when i'm yapping about ana in general i'm referring to my own portrayal of her by default! c: ( note that all you cute ana mutuals are still more than welcome to interact with posts about her / her & maria / the flores' ♡ just something to keep in mind if i refer to her in a general sense in posts! )

DANNY ALEJO - OSORIO.

ya'll may know our just some guy danny by gun's canon of him -- danny gaines. the danny here however is technically my own portrayal of danny gaines that i developed before he was officially dropped & we got his last name. should i interact with others writing danny gaines? i'm completely gucci with considering my danny & gaines as entirely separate characters!

* correction : i now consider danny to be entirely severed from guns danny gaines and is, now, an oc fully. he is entirely his own character. otherwise, the speedrun of danny is as follows : danilo alejo-osorio is mexican-colombian, befriended maria in their early teens. he comes from a broken family with a very fractured & a.busive father, his mother returned to colombia and started another family there believing he'd have a better life staying in the states. he went through a very rough period hanging with a real shitty crowd of so-called friends, got into a shitton of fights, broke into homes and businesses with them, stole shit, broke shit, just in general not great influences. a break-in went wrong, his "friends" scattered, and he was arrested when the police showed up, and spent time in juvie for it. none of those friends ever came by. his father didn't, none of his family did. maria, her mother and ana, instead, were his constant visitors. and it was her coming to see him, her encouragement and push for him to do better is what finally made him realize he needed to turn his shit around. at the point of maria going missing & the house, danny's going to trade school by the southern coast for ship & underwater welding courses & training. he & maria are best friends. he is her ride, die, kill. gun noted once upon a time how strong dannys' devotion to her is -- my danny is very much devoted to her. he would kill for her without hesitation -- and not in his dire au's, even, but just in general. danny would do anything for those he cares about. any of the friendgroup.

THE FLORES FAMILY.

my personal take / lore is as follows basically : papa flores ( ramón ignacio ) & mama flores ( carmen ainara ) were long-term sweethearts whose marriage and little family seemed perfectly ideal. however, the closer that their eldest daughter, maria, got to her teen years, the sicker carmen started to become. she attempted to keep it under wraps, hush-hush from the girls' to not worry or scare them. but she was diagnosed with a lung disease ( p.ulmonary f.ibrosis fingerguns @ silver for same braincell lmao ) that is considered ( esp in the 70s likely ) to be terminal. while the girls' weren't aware of her being ill to that degree, ramon fully was. and the stress of coming to terms with his wife being sick and finding out that she may eventually pass due to it, so he claims, "caused" him to start an affair. carmen does find out, and ramon removes himself from the flores' family home to move in with his affair partner. maria, being forgiving and more gentle-hearted compared to ana, attempted to still paint him in a positive light so that ana wouldn't resent him. tried to give him the benefit of the doubt -- that he at least still did love them all. that he'd keep the promises to still be active in their lives, still show up when he said he would -- however, there's only so many excuses, so many promises broken, so many calls never ringing through, before that hope crumbles. ana would witness both her mother & maria deal with their fathers' heartbreak through closed bedroom doors, and it'd only make her despise him more for it. when maria later goes missing, ramon returns to try and help in whatever ways he can -- and ana is very unreceptive to him being there. he lost his chance in her eyes to play "dad" to them. and she makes it known clearly to him how much she resents him and reminds him he's got no place in their family, anymore. that he's there ONLY to help find maria and not to expect shit from any of them.

THE HEWITTS & THE SAWYERS.

by default, i say a giant fuck you to the difference in continuity's when it comes to the family! i write the hewitt's as an extension of the sawyer ( or, slaughter ) family tree. the hewitts & sawyers connected when luda mae married charlton hewitt sr. luda, in my personal canon, was born into the family through one of grandpa sawyers' many kids' he's taken in over his long-fuckin'-ass lifespan lmao alot of the family dynamics that are my canon here stem from lamb & i's back & forths. i find blending the various iterations of the family -- from originals to remakes etc -- as all just extended families to each other alot easier to work around and opens the door to more interactions with canons' from other versions of tcsm! c: i'm currently slow-piecing together a family tree of the hewitt-sawyers based on that blended concept. to the sawyers, luda is referred to by aunt or grandma ( sometimes ma luda, even ) and thomas is referred to as cousin tommy.

THOMAS & THE TITLE OF "L.EATHERFACE".

i was going to make this its own post but i'll add to this one instead. but with the idea of the hewitts & sawyers being just on massive family unit? of course there's the question of how the fuck do both thomas & bubba ( or other iterations of LF ) work then? i'd argue its primarily due to the fact that those who don't personally know them both don't know their actual names, and simply refer to them by the most notable feature -- the masks. with my thomas, yes, he does take faces of victims and he does wear them. however. thomas' skin condition -- flesh-eating disease / tumor growths on his face -- is why he wears his animal-leather half-mask. that half mask is his primary mask. he is almost always wearing that or varying versions of it. when thomas DOES skin someones' face to wear? it is almost always out of rage. hatred. it's done to intimidate. to unsettle. its from back in september but, one of my thomas' replies to kels notes this about thomas! the masks of both animal & human leather are still very much a part of thomas as i write him -- but, when it comes to the hewitt-sawyers being one family unit & thomas & bubba co-existing? "l.eatherface" becomes a title in a sense -- two giant motherfuckers who wear masks?? they get confused for one another. despite thomas being arguably much larger both being beefy & being 6'9 compared to bubba. they both don't really stray far from home. how often do outsiders get a chance to see them both separately let alone close to one another? likely not a common sight. it'd be very easy to spot one of them and then assume they are one in the same, honestly. that's how i go about things here, at least! it ties into more, again, of the back-&-forths lamb & i have minecrafted especially but, i'm all for altering that for specific interactions for those who don't want to meddle with all of that! (:

NANCY.

spooky momther will retain what her abilities have grown into by my personal headcanons across the board! however there are certain points to how i portray her that, from any posts about her i've made, are tied into lamb's johnny and so know that there will be differences in how she may be with other johnnys! i'm all ears to how different nancy & johnny's relationship can turn out! if theres anything i feel overlaps with other dynamics of theirs, i will let you know and we can work something else out c:

GENERAL PORTRAYAL NOTE.

mentioned it already but : all muses here are very heavily canon-divergent & built out from their canon lore by my own brainrot going wild with them all. with that in mind, i do just about consider each of my portrayals of these muses as my own oc's at this point with how much i've added onto them / built them up from literal nothing like in maria's case. i'm more than happy to either adapt how i write any of them to better fit into anyone elses' takes! and i'm more than happy to welcome more into the brainrot that i've minecrafted with the flores' or the hewitt-sawyers etc! that's something to come from plotting however! if we haven't really spoken ooc / etc then i default to a more general vision of the characters for the time being. i'm all up for taking different routes with new writing partners so please don't be shy about reaching out! c: if theres anything that conflicts with pre-existing personal lore of mine or is too similar to plots or dynamics i have already, i'll let you know and try to offer alternatives!

AFFILIATE PORTRAYALS & RELATED AU'S.

i have a few writing partners who i am affiliated with & with their respective tcsm canon muses. kels' leland, rae's connie, & lamb's johnny -- when i refer to leland/lee or connie or johnny in general on my posts, do know i am specifically referring to their portrayals as my general lore across my blog takes their muses & the dynamics built between them into account ♡ like i mentioned in ana's lil section, i'll start to make note in posts when i am referring to duplicate johnnys / lelands / connie's / etc for when im mentioning others' portrayals specifically! by default though i am always referring to my affiliates' portrayals when i post c: just wanted to clarify that though in case it was at all confusing or unclear ♡ affiliate verses here are as follows so far : - cold case ( cc / maria's dire au ; with lamb's johnny ) - no one saved you / we saved us ( nosy / wsu / maria & leland's joint dire au ; with kels' leland & lamb's johnny ) - oath binded ( maria & johnny's red string & reincarnation au / with lamb's johnny ) and then the still babiest dire au for my danny, - choke chained ( with lamb's johnny ). these verses, for me, are strictly worked with lamb ( & with kels for nosy/wsu ) -- meaning i'm not writing in them or doing similar au's with other portrayals of johnnys or lelands! again in case i haven't been clear on it before and it causes any confusion or anything! ♡

MARIA & JOHNNY.

i am not going to be shipping maria in any romantic / intimate sense nor am i open to any prolonged captive plots & interactions with other portrayals of johnny sawyer. those types of dynamics & interactions i've decided from this point on to close that for my maria to lamb's johnny ( @johnnysslaughter ) ♡ there has been a lot of plotting & build up between my portrayal of maria & lamb's portrayal of johnny and their varying dynamics across verses / au's and their different trajectories. and because of how many different iterations of their dynamic has been pieced together, i personally am not going to be taking other plots / dynamics with other johnny's that fall under the same umbrella as the dynamic between our maria & johnny do -- again meaning, i personally won't be shipping romantically / intimately nor will I take on plots that run parallel to cold case / no one saved you re: maria being taken captive for a prolonged period of time with other johnnys. alot of this decision on my part is very much due to how much we have developed them together -- another big part of it is my trust & comfort level with lamb to explore those dynamics between maria & johnny. this doesn't mean we are exclusive to one anothers' portrayals -- i am happy to write with other johnny's! and lamb is welcome to interact with other maria's! but from this point onward, i will only ship maria & johnny with lamb. ♡

[mareenavee]

Is there anything specific about your writing which you can pinpoint that you have improved upon since starting writing? Where have you seen the most "gains"? Is there anything in particular that you'd like to tweak? (I have been thinking about this a lot for myself personally, and I thought it would be an interesting question for you.)

Hello WINTER 🫂!! Ah this is such a fantastic question! Thank you for asking it. Let's talk about level ups below the cut!!! It'll be a long post with rambling, advice and snippets.

Without further ado...

What really is a Level Up and how do I notice one?

I have been seeing a lot of you guys really level up lately with your writing. The joy and effort is super, super apparent in our circle and I am seriously proud of you guys. I'm floored reading the work all ya'll are sharing for WIP (whenever.) It's interesting to me that I can so easily see the skill gains for others but it's much tougher for me to look at mine and SEE it. There's a bit of a perception about our own craft that it's not as "good as it should be" but it's really part of a cycle. (This post here can explain it with graphics.)

At a certain point we hit an overlap where we see/evaluate craft in ways we're still working on putting into practice which can skew our perspective of our own work until we catch up with ourselves. It's important to understand this, at least for me, because it's like...partially turning a page in a book. We're still processing what's been said, but we don't know the rest of the story yet :> And the only way to get the rest of it is to keep going, and finish turning the page.

As with art -- I love looking back on old work and noticing just how much things have changed and for the better, too. Part of learning how to level up is also learning to be gentle with ourselves, which is my next point.

Something that has helped me immensely and has been so invaluable in my journey is mindfulness and mindset shifts. Instead of using negative self-talk on myself, on my writing, on my craft -- I try to reframe it into statements like "I can change how I convey x, y or z if I try this." It is not an easy thing, and is a constant journey. But it does help the level ups. I speak from painstaking experience.

For specifics about my writing -- I'll begin from when I started writing World because I have been writing for ages at this point (I started when I was 7 years old after I first read The Hobbit lol).

Gains

I have seen immense improvement with my scenery descriptions and describing how characters feel about a space and events going on in them since the beginning of World. I have aphantasia so it's really almost impossible for me to visualize anything in my head regarding scenery especially. I tend to rely on sound for this, but imagery is important. Also when I began World, I was in full challenge mode and didn't have the time or confidence to look up the references I needed. I can compare draft versions here for example.

Old Chapter 9 - First version

She took his hand and led him down past the now-recovered Gildergreen, whose ethereal flowers still bloomed in the cold of Sun’s Dusk. They walked almost to the entrance of the city, right before Adrianne’s forge. Nyenna guided him up the stairs of a little house which had stood empty for as long as anyone could remember. Recently, the old, faded boards that had scarred its surface had been replaced. She pulled a fine chain from around her neck and revealed a brass key hanging on it. She unclasped her necklace and unlocked the door of the house.  Athis looked around in awe at the tiny, perfect cottage. There was not a speck of dust, and the fire had already been lit. New dishes lined shelves that had been made by hand. Candles scattered around the room glowed like miniature stars. The light shone off of their matching rings as they walked toward the back of their kitchen. “Welcome to Breezehome,” Nyenna said. “I’ve been working on this for weeks.” “You did all this yourself? For me?” Athis asked, still stunned. He ran his hands over the rough hewn table in the back of the room almost as if he couldn’t believe it was real. “For us,” Nyenna corrected. He turned and lifted her up in one motion, spinning her around in pure joy before setting her back down. They sat down together at the table, and he kissed her gently. “Our home,” Athis said, voice thick with emotion. “Our home,” Nyenna agreed. He pulled her into a tight embrace. They sat like that for some time, warm in each other’s arms.

New Version (Now Chapter 7)

She took his hand and led him down past the now-recovered Gildergreen, whose ethereal flowers still bloomed, even in the cold of Sun’s Dusk. They walked almost to the entrance of the city, right before Adrianne’s forge. Nyenna guided him up the stairs of a little house which had stood empty for as long as anyone could remember. Recently, the old, faded boards that had scarred its surface had been replaced. She pulled a fine chain from around her neck and revealed an old brass key hanging on it. She unclasped her necklace and unlocked the door of the house. She led Athis into the tiny, perfect cottage. There was not a speck of dust, and the fire had already been lit. New dishes lined shelves that had been made by hand. The kitchen area next to the hearth in the center of the main room was outfitted with second hand, well-loved pans Hulda had given her. Tundra cotton and lavender hung from the ceiling, drying alongside other bundles of herbs and braids of garlic. Candles scattered around the room glowed like miniature stars. The light reflected off of their matching rings as they walked toward the back of their kitchen. She fell even more in love, if it was possible, as she watched him look around in awe at all her hard work. All she had achieved for them. “Welcome to Breezehome,” Nyenna said quietly. “I’ve been working on this for weeks, between everything else.” “You did all this yourself? For me?” Athis asked, still stunned. He ran his hands over the rough hewn table in the back of the room almost as if he couldn’t believe it was real. Farkas had actually found that for her. She had repaired it herself. “For us ,” Nyenna corrected. He turned and lifted her up in one motion, spinning her around in pure joy before setting her back down. They sat down together at the table, and he kissed her gently. She giggled. “Our friends helped, too.” “This is really our home?” Athis asked, voice thick. He smiled, garnet eyes shining with held-back tears. “Our home,” Nyenna agreed. He pulled her into a tight embrace. They sat like that for some time, warm in each other’s arms. She pulled another fine chain out from beneath her dress. A brand new brass key she had Adrianne make for her hung from it. She handed it to Athis. He held onto it like it was the greatest treasure he’d ever seen before he slipped the chain over his head, links catching in his hair and tugging more strands loose from the braids. She knew he’d never thought he’d be able to have a place to call his own. It was why she had been working so much, and sleeping so little. To give him this, that they could share together. It was the least she could do. She wanted a home, too. It had been so long since she had felt this kind of safety, this kind of comfort. Normalcy, of any kind. He had given her that. Freely and with his whole heart. They had already started to build a beautiful life. It was more than what she had asked for. It was everything she could have imagined and more.

Changes

I think if I were to pick one thing I'd still like to push more it'd be the visual descriptions of things for sure as mentioned above. I do rely a lot on sound to convey a lot of what I'm experiencing in my mind while I'm writing. Sound has never been an issue for me to remember or to imagine. But balancing that with actual descriptions of what the character can see is still super important and I do try very hard to do this :D

Final Thoughts

Leveling up and improving at writing takes a lot of practice generally speaking, and the drive to want to do the thing. Life can get in the way of creativity sometimes, I speak from experience. So the biggest advice I can give is to normalize being proud of your journey. Each step, past, present and where you're trying to go in the future. Your words matter more than you realize, more than the numbers will have you believe, more than your own self-talk will try and convince you otherwise.

Level ups occur because you are doing something you love, acquiring good input (ie reading widely, and writing often and noticing what works about these stories and what doesn't and asking WHY) , and making a concerted effort to try your best. And your best can look like different things at different points. The next step after that is like I said above, be gentle with yourself, especially each of your past selves. Their work got you where you are today. And where you are today will become a past self that provided a foundation on which you level up your craft.

So be kind to yourself. Keep practicing. Be mindful. When you are inspired, don't forget to write it down. Save pieces of your work for later. Review your own writing with pride.

I know it's not the easiest to see in ourselves and our work, but all that we do, all that creativity -- it's absolutely worth it. The level ups will happen. It takes time. But you'll get there.

(And Winter specifically? GIRL. You are leveling up. You got this. I see you. (: )

[myst867]

WIP Tag

Thanks for the tag @suzyq31! My writing has slowed down after having a burst mid Feb because of IRL things mostly but still... chipping away at my fics. Also because I only have five WIPs (that I admit to - I'm putting them in order of priority too.)

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends

Titles

Intertwined: Sirius keeps Harry once he rescues him from Godric's Hollow. Harry is born with mismatched eyes that will mirror his soulmate's eyes. It has a lot of tropes I'm fond of - soulmates, sirius lives, background wolfstar, more powerful enemies and more powerful harry/hermione.

Meddling With Time : Harry and Hermione are thrown into a "fixed" timeline after they travel back to the Marauders era to kill Voldemort. They thought they would be erased when their mission was completed ... instead, they're dealing with whole new lives.

Matched : Social Media AU; Voldemort defeated in the first war. Hermione was raised in France and meets Harry when they're adults through a dating app in which they both lie and say they're muggles. They find out they're not muggles... when they meet as coworkers at the Ministry.

Red Thread of Fate : Harry always wondered who Hermione's first love was - it was one of the things she never talked about and it brought them together in an unconventional way. It wasn't until 10 years later traveling back to the past that he realizes it was him.

Remedy : Post war Harry and Hermione are struggling to deal with the aftermath and learning who are they are now after all their experiences.

All Harry/Hermione pairings and all pretty wildly different. Intertwined is at the top b/c I honestly am so done with this WIP being stuck in third year. After I move to fourth year though more of my attention is going to be split between Matched and Meddling with Time.

Upcoming Scenes, Events, Details

Intertwined: We're right up to their first kiss and realizing they are in fact soulmates! Yay!

Meddling with Time: Ahh there's so much in this one. So many things I'm looking forward to publishing. I think the biggest scene and this is a spoiler but it's Hermione realizing why Harry looks so different physically when everyone else looks pretty much the same. She does not handle the realization well.

Matched: Looking forward to writing the fight and the reveal of who's been doing everything. It's going to be fun.

Red Thread of Fate: sounds bad but I'm looking forward to writing the break up scene between Harry and Ginny.

Remedy: LOL. Easy. The first sex scene.

I hope ya'll don't mind the tag but I'd love to see what you guys are working on! @tiffanytoms @amethystheart2421 @rachelfivehundred @bellairestrella @alexandra-emerson @jabean-fanfiction @pjxckson @itstopplingdomino

[avatarrecom]

Hello hello

I thought I'd give ya'll an list of the things that I'm planning to write/got requests for.

Please note that the list is not in publishing order and that I can't say anything about publishing dates other than that I'm trying to get them out asap, but with therapy, Christmas (at school and with both my fams), New Year, trying to finish crocheting the baby blanket for my new nephew (who's already 1 week old and utterly adorable omg) and my parents 25 marriage anniversary, I don't have that much time to write. I'm hoping to have more time in the new year.

I'm including the status of everything and I'll reblog this post when I update the status.

My requests are still open. If I missed one or if you have a request, just pop a message in my inbox and I'll add them!

Requests: ARE STILL OPEN!!

NSFW alphabet: not started Characters: Mansk: X Lyle: X - R - T Prager: X Fike: X Lopez: X Ja: P - G Poly: Ja & Lopez: T - W

Flirty (read: horny) Lopez hitting on reader in Spanish: not started

Harry Potter Custody AU: currently writing

Lyle reacting to his partner getting pregnant: not started

Spider in a wheelchair Custody AU: not started

Love is strong, love lives on pt.2 (link to pt.1): not started

Recoms reacting to their s/o using their safe word (HC's): not started

My own idea's:

Kidnapped Without a Home: (link to masterlist) Chapter 5: not started Character visualization & moodboards of the submitted characters: not started (you can still submit your own character! and for the ones who submitted a recom s/o character, send me a message with what roll you want them to have since they weren't chosen as an s/o)

Poly recoms x reader with the prompt, "You killed innocent people because of your loyalty, don’t blame me for my own." not started

Getting married to the recoms (I'm not sure if it's gonna be a poly story or headcanons for everyone, what do you guys want?) not started

A part of me has departed with you pt.2 (link to pt.1) not started

Surprise project: currently writing

It's a long list and like I said, I'm trying to get them all out asap.

Which ones are you exited for? maybe I can keep that in mind with what i'm writing first.

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Whump Intro

Hi, hello! 

Um, I’ve been avoiding this intro bc I am a shy awkward hermit that usually just lurks and likes stuff, but that doesn’t really work on Tumblr so here I am! Plus I wanted to use Whumptober to force myself into sharing my writing and figured it might be useful to introduce myself first.

You can call me starlit, or anna, or hey you, I don’t really care lol. She/her pronouns. I love reading fantasy & fantasy romance, writing, and playing RPG video games when I have the time (usually fantasy based-are we sensing a theme here? 😂)

Before we get to more about me nonsense-

Acknowledgements!

Shout out to @i-can-even-burn-salad

For beta reading for me and then being brave enough to share her stories with me. And for sucking me into Tumbler lol. And for talking to me all the time and making me laugh. And for being such a great person. <3

I love her writing and stories so much. Please, please, check her writing out. It's worth it, I promise! Bring tissues though!!

Best internet friend ever trophy, where is it? I need to send it… oh, there it is. Here you go, Elli! 🏆🎉💜

I haven't had the opportunity to check out many other blogs yet, bc someone has such an extensive back catalog 👀 😂 but tagged below is the one I have read. I devoured Traces in one day because it was so good. Highly recommend!

Traces by @whumping-in-the-wings - Thanks for writing such a great story! Can't wait to see what happens next :)

(Obligatory disclaimer: heed the warnings. They are well-tagged.)

I've got my eye on several other blogs once I have a little more time. Hope ya'll like spam likes/reblogs/comments, bc I'm a bit enthusiastic 😂

Ok, back to me, I suppose. Under the cut 🤣

I tend to use emojis excessively, but don’t expect me to know the meaning of them beyond face-value expressions. I shamelessly claim elder millennial status as an excuse (which means I’m 18+, obviously).

I’m audhd (combo autistic/adhd), but I didn’t find that out until earlier this year, so I’m still very used to tiptoeing around people and holding myself back out of self-preservation. Working on that though, bc I’m tired of that shit. 

Erm, also… fuck is my favorite word. If you don’t like foul language, I might not be a great fit for you. 

I joined Tumblr about a month ago, so I am still learning and ask for your patience. (I will probably be learning for quite some time, tbh) If I’m doing something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it.

Asks are welcome, although not sure what you would ask me lol. With asks, keep in mind that I’m literal as fuck and context is everything :D

As is fairly common from what I’ve seen in this community, I’ve daydreamed whump for as long as I can remember, and it’s nice to:

1. know what to call it 🥲

2. find someplace where I don’t feel weird about getting it out of my head and putting it on digital paper. Well, not quite as weird haha.

I’m super nervous to post on here, but that’s what I’m here for, so… deep breaths 😶

Likes: 

*Fantasy whump 

Magic w/ consequences

Captivity

Torture/punishments 

Restraints

Dub/non-con 

Emotional whump/angst 

Defiant whumpee

Breaking whumpee to the point of hopeless despair before building them back up again

Revenge against whumper 

Creepy/intimate whumper 

Named characters 

Recovery arcs, bonus points for romance <3

Eventual Happy endings after copious amounts of suffering

I write what I like, btw. I have written explicit romance previously, but I’m not sure if I will here.

I will try to be diligent with my warnings, but as those are new for me as well, I may miss some. Please let me know if I do and I will fix it! (within reason, don't ask me to tag something like sadness. that's a typical emotion. extremes like depression, yes. sadness, no.)

* Disclaimer: I will only ever write fantasy. I prefer to read fantasy as well, but I have made exceptions when I get the tropes I want :D 

Squicks: 

I’m willing to try most anything once. 

In general though, I tend to avoid cannibalism, major character death, hard-core conditioning, whumper redemptions, bad caretakers 

I’m excited to join the community here and looking forward to participating in Whumptober! I have no idea how well I’ll keep up since I only decided to write for it 3 days before the event, but I’m willing to try 😅

Even if I can’t keep up during October's events, I do plan to finish the storyline and there will be a happy end :D  

Fuck, this got long. Sorry!!!

See you all around! 💜

[quensty]

hello all. as u can see ur assassins failed to kill me last night so i'm back to clogging ur dash w a tag game.

i was tagged by @moondal514 (hi bestie <3) to answer 20 questions tailored for fic writers. moondal my love u will regret giving me this opportunity <3

🪿 how many works do you have on ao3?

36! i've been existing in the mid-30-ish range for a good while now. it's starting to piss me off. i post things and then get scared they suck and delete and the cycle repeats.

🪿 what's your total ao3 word count?

153,155 *pops champagne*

🪿 what fandoms do u write for?

am i supposed to list all of them? i'm not doing that 😑🤚 if ur interested ya'll can check out the list here

🪿 what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

men abort mission is definitely my most popular fic (10,856 kudos, it's deeply embarrassing). then it's your crown of thorns holds roses (5,153 kudos, slightly less embarrassing); right hand on his rifle (522 kudos, still embarrassing but at least it's much better writing); kiss me like a snapped guitar string (480 kudos); and love, war, and other exit wounds (468 kudos, which is fucking news to me. i had no idea the kudos had climbed that high)

🪿 do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i do! i like it :D i like ppl to see that i saw their comment and appreciated it. i also do it cos, like, fandom is entirely abt fan-to-fan interaction. fanfic is no different. the point is that i want to engage w other fans and TALK abt stuff. i think it's fun! i've met a lot of friends this way.

🪿 what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

100% would be altschmerz. i don't fix anything in that fic. in fact i probably make everything worse. logan still dies and he never has a proper relationship w laura and the world still sucks. and i sprinkle in some complicated relationships with latinidad while i'm at it. but i love it <3

🪿 what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

this is a difficult thing to judge cos most of my fics have happy or at least hopeful endings, but i think the fic that has the most rewarding happy ending is keep on keeping on, dean winchester. the first couple of chapters are meant to be absolute hell. but i offset that by ending the story with everyone happy and alive and together :)

🪿 do you get hate on fics?

no i am perfect <3

🪿 do you write smut? if so, what kind?

throughout all my time in fandom the answer to this has been no. but then i did this thing where i watched iwtv 2022, and my whole world shifted on its axis. so YES, i do, in fact, now write smut. occasionally. i have no idea how to respond to "what kind." it is gay sex.

🪿 do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

ok when i first answered this question i said lifeboat, a sense8 aftg fic in 2 (if u've read it ur eligible for financial compensation), but i change my mind. most unhinged thing i've ever written is 100% between the desire and the spasm, which, i kid you not, is an all the president's men fusion, which, in case u don't know, is a movie abt watergate. WATERGATE.

🪿 have you ever had a fic stolen?

i feel like the answer is yes, but this was in my quotev days, and that site was exactly what republicans imagine anarchists want for society: complete havoc. anyway! my point is that i think i did have a case of someone copying my work almost word for word during that era, but i was 13 and it was like 250 words worth of writing so i was like whatever.

🪿 have you ever had a fic translated?

YES, i'm very happy to say! many very kind people have translated my work. i'll list them below cos they always do a fantastic job and i'm always hoping they get more recognition for their hard work:

@ghostofair wrote a spanish translation of men abort mission!

@sadluna wrote a russian translation of men abort mission!

@bloodymelonteamua wrote a a ukrainian translation of men abort mission!

@kais_room has very kindly written a russian translation of your crown of thorns holds roses!

🪿 have you ever co-written a fic before!

yes! i actually co-wrote right hand on his rifle with my bff liv (@cabeswater). she gave me a lot of ideas while i was crafting it, so it's really just as much hers as it is mine. i'm very happy w it! i would love to write smthn properly w them someday bc they're a phenomenally good writer

🪿 what's your all-time favorite ship?

this is an evil question wtf. i don't know! amara/me.

🪿 what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

my sense8 au LMAO. i try so hard every few months to get back into the groove of it but it's a doomed enterprise i think. at this point i would have to rewrite it completely, but i don't have the same passion for it that i once did. sigh

🪿 what are your writing strengths?

i don't know. should i know that? maybe dialogue. i can't say whether i excel at it but i can say with certainty that i enjoy it

🪿 what are your writing weaknesses?

i always get impatient near the end of a long project and end up rushing the ending, which is such a shame cos i'm so talented :(

🪿 thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

in huge favor of it! i love doing that. i tend to do it when i write characters that speak spanish, and when it's done well by other writers? UGH. it makes me want to eat my phone

🪿 first fandom you wrote for?

pjo on quotev writing reader inserts ✌️ that is not a joke i'm dead serious rn

🪿 favorite fic you've written?

FUCK OFF. the real answer to this question is a fic i deleted. i loved it so much i deleted it off my ao3 so i could rework it into an original piece and turn it in for my fiction class this semester LOL. trust me though this piece was already, like, 90% my own writing and less "based" on the source material rather than it was "inspired" by it. if u compare me to those writers who made their harry styles fanfiction into published novels i will fight u. if i have to pick a fic that's still up, i think i'd pick either keep on keeping on, dean winchester or a ghost is a memory

i'm tagging @keepoffthetardis, @enterprisery, @weather-mood, and anyone else who wants to do this! if any of u actually read thru this whole thing i'm so sorry

[sea-owl]

Angsty idea in regards to the Percy Jackson Au. Imagine Penelope writing a list of names each morning in a journal. It never made sense to Eloise or Colin when they saw her do this in the past and Penelope always clammed up about it. After the reveal, they just think it’s a list of people Penelope intends to write about and are muttering about it one day at camp, still a bit sour when Michael overhears them. For once his charming smile falls and he gives them a look between angry and sad. “That’s not what it is you prats. It’s a list of every person that’s died that Penelope blames herself for. Sometimes her visions just come a bit late or she didn’t see it. No one blames her, she can’t see everything all the time. But she does and she never lets herself forget them. That’s why she writes their names each morning, to remind herself to always be watchful. Do you have any idea how scared she was that one day she’d have to add your family’s name to her list?” And then he storms away while Philip follows after. Among the people on Penelope’s list are George Crane and Michael’s cousin John.

Ya'll just want me to be mean to Bridgertons C and E don't ya? I'm starting to notice a pattern.

To be honest after that first morning where Penelope comes in armed with pots and pans, I think they'll talk and start to move forward.

But I can see a similar scene happening.

Penelope has a list. There are seven names on it. She keeps it in a tiny journal that fits perfectly in her pocket.

When Colin first saw the list, it was after he had discovered her secret as Lady Whistledown. He had assumed they were names of people she was going to write about, but now? Knowing that she can see the future and has seen life threatening incidents in those visions Colin was starting to think that list was for something else.

He should just ask Penelope, he knows this, but things are still fragile right now between them. He's afraid to push her too soon lest she turn him away. He hated being apart from her last time even if he only had himself to blame.

So Colin went to look for the next best thing.

Phillip was easy enough to find. When he wasn't being dragged somewhere by Michael or helping Penelope and her relatives in the infirmary he was often found in the greenhouse. The son of Demeter experimented with his powers and the affects they had on creating new plants.

Lucky for Colin Michael was with him too. "Phillip, Michael."

"Hey Colin," Michael greeted for both of them. Phillip was concentrating a pea plant. "Had enough of Kate whooping your ass in sword fighting?"

"Actually, Kate and Anthony started another round of their flirty arguments, so I made my escape while she was distracted." Colin joked gaining a laugh out of Michael and a slight chuckle from Phillip. "I was actually looking for at least one of you two."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Us? Not Penelope?"

Colin rubbed the back of his neck. "So, I noticed she carries around a list-"

Michael's eyes widened; his charming smile fell. The pea plant Phillip was working on grew three times the size of a normal one.

"I'm not sure-" Michael started but Colin interrupted.

"Please if it helps me understand Pen better than-"

"One of the names on her list is George Crane, he was my older brother."

"Phillip," Michael whispered.

Phillip turns towards Michael. "We can talk about those two, Penelope always said it helps." Phillip turns back towards Colin. "George wasn't like us, he was mortal. He decided to join the navy after he got out of school. Penelope had a vision that he fell in battle. She tried to warn him, tried to change him mind on the decisions that would lead to his death. He still made the choice to go. She blamed herself."

Phillip looked at Michael, who bit his lip. Eventually the son of Aphrodite let out a sigh. "Another name on the list, one you may recognize was John Stirling, he was also a mortal."

Colin did recognize the name. John was Francesca's old boyfriend. They all thought she was going to marry him, up until he passed away suddenly in his sleep.

"Penelope also had a vision about his death, but there's really nothing you can do about your body shutting down. Penelope still blames herself."

"So all those names," Colin said, realization hitting in. "They're people Pen has seen died?"

Michael nodded. "Yes, each name is a different mortal or demigod she has seen, and she blames herself for each one despite the fact there was nothing she could have done. She was terrified of ever adding a Bridgerton name to the list. The night we sent Kate and Sophie to get you Phillip practically had to drug Penelope to stop herself from going into a panic attack."

"I see, thank you."

Colin left the green house and went to the infirmary, where he said he would meet Penelope after her shift.

Penelope was not expecting the full body wrapped hug.