#my writing confidence took a real hit last year

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend 

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings 

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more. 

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million. 

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything. 

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it. 

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends. 

-

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here. 

“Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two. 

“You’re right.” 

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier. 

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…” 

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen. 

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy. 

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes. 

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.” 

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you. 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly. 

“Hm..Well I give it a week.” 

-

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences. 

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off. 

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up. 

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had. 

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you. 

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures. 

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face. 

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly. 

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman. 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces. 

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling. 

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out. 

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone. 

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up. 

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off. 

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug. 

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up. 

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt. 

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out. 

-

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy. 

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;) 

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back. 

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest. 

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two

[evolnoomym]

Washing Machine Heart 🩶

Mom’s Best-friend!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: Your Mom is not nice to you, her only Daughter, always picking on you whenever she can. To get back at her you decide to seduce and fuck her Highschool Best-friend Joel Miller. Oh she also has a crush on him so that’s a bonus.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, implied abuse, childhood trauma, alcohol, smut, reader has no name only nicknames, size difference, age gap, readers age is mentioned and Joel is more than double sooo, mommy issues, strained relationships, petty shit, cream pie, tittys, choking kind of, teasing, Joel is tiny bit Pervy, of course Daddy kink, unprotected p in v,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: I was mad so this is what I cooked up lol

Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. This is my first time writing smut sooooo be nice please. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🖤

Song’s I listened to while writing:

I Hate My Mom by GRLwood

Class of 2013 by Mitski

I hope ur miserable until ur dead by Nessa Barrett

Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

Backstabber by Kesha

Jerk by Oliver Tree

You know exactly when the relationship between you and your mother started deteriorating- The day she decided to choose your loser Stepdad, the one she only dated for 4 years, over her own 8 year old daughter. From then on you took a backseat in her life yet she still expected you to take care of her all needs. You hate her for what she did and you miss her like a little kid. You had to drag her home when she drank too much, you can’t even remember how often that happened. Always having to jump in between that asshole and her fighting cuz even though she practically emotionally abandoned you, you still wanted to protect her from harm's way. She forced you to grow up so quickly, it’s her fault you never got a real childhood.

For years you accepted that this is normal. The screaming, the violence and the degrading words became a part of growing up. You were a kid but not clueless, someone who loves you wouldn’t have done all of this. And yet all of them tried so hard to make you shut up and believe it’s what you deserved.

Luckily what happened did not entirely break you. No, you grew into someone who fought for herself since no one ever did that.

Of course you hoped she might realize her mistakes, apologize and change but nothings new with her. She’s great at pretending to be a better person to the outside world, than she is in reality, behind closed doors the mask unveils an ugly woman. A narcissistic self absorbed monster that took all your joy away.

It’s pathetic considering how much she always talks about getting abused by her own father but instead of breaking the cycle she doubled down on it. Going as far as using that as an excuse for what she did to her own child.

She only kinda stopped the abuse once you no longer were a small child. Now that you could fight back she did not corner you anymore.

But just because she couldn’t hit you anymore doesn’t mean the picking on you stopped, no, it was her mission to rid you of the last remaining confidence and self love.

In each screaming match she tried so hard to gaslight you into believing you were crazy for feeling offended by her disgusting behavior.

One time you asked why she hit you as a little kid and the answer left you completely blown away. She expressed that you cried so much, and did it to provoke her. What else could she have possibly done other than raise her hand?

Or another time she refused to acknowledge that she hit you at all but a second later told you that perhaps if she would’ve done worse you would’ve turned out better.

At some point you stopped calling her Mom and only went with her name. You knew that it must hurt but did she really deserve that title after everything she did?

Now at 21 years old the relationship is just as rocky, not much has changed.

Your mom has basically zero friends, she’s a bitch of course no one would want to be too close, well except for Joel…..Joel Miller that somehow was her friend.

Perhaps only since they have known each other since High School, he might have felt some kind of obligation towards her due to that. She told you once that Joel was the boy every girl had a crush on with his whole guitar playing thing they all swooned over him.

Even now all those years later Joel was a beautiful specimen, tall, broad shoulders, huge hands, strong arms you’d like to be enveloped by, tanned freckled skin, a cute butt, gorgeous brown curls with slightly gray streaks showing his age, big brown eyes, a prominent nose and soft pillow like lips.

You understand why your Mom had a crush on him, any woman would bend over for him if he’d say so. She thought it was not too noticeable but unlike Joel you caught it immediately.

She made you the reason for her life being so shitty but now after years of torment you saw a chance at really giving her a reason to hate you. Maybe something is wrong with you for liking the idea of breaking her heart so much but you honestly couldn’t care less. The one you felt sorry for most was probably Joel; he would be the pawn in your deranged game without knowing.

As it turns out though Joel is not as innocent as expected, the more you tried to get closer the more you realized he might be easier to seduce than originally anticipated.

You started with small things like hugging him a bit longer than normally so he could feel you perky full tits squished against his chest. Touching his arms and squeezing them but not too much as if to draw attention to it. And from his reactions, he did not seem to mind.

You were not worried about your mother, she never was the most alert to begin with.

When Joel came over for a barbecue you used the time alone with him in the garden while your mother was in the kitchen preparing god knows what to impress him.

Joel and you had some interesting conversations.

“Soooo you work in contracting, right?” You asked him sweetly. Joel chuckled “Yeah sweetheart, I do. But ya know tha’ already, so why ask?” You played it off as much as you could “Just making sure you didn't decide to switch career paths in the time I haven’t seen you…” you look up at him through your lashes, cheekily biting your lip. Joel of course fell into the trap, his eyes going down to your plush lips in mere seconds. Got ya you dirty old men.

You stepped closer until you two were only a couple inches apart. His chest almost touched yours. In this position you really had to Crane your neck up to keep eye contact consistent.

“What are ya doing Baby,huh?” Joel tilted his head slightly down towards your face. You just giggled at him “Nothin Joel, just…” with that you put your hands on his wide chest ruining them down over his enticing slightly protruding belly. “I know you stare at my ass alllllll the time. I also know you like it when I walk close by you and graze you with my tits. My little skimpy outfits turn you on as well don’t they,huh Joel?” You smirk at him.

You can see how he clenches his jaw…ohhh yes you got him figured out.

He hisses low and menacing at you “You are a little slut ain’t ya, baby. Groping a man over double your age. Teasin me with those sugar tits and that tight lil ass….”

You can see his pupils dilate till his eyes look close to being completely blacked out. You muse “Yeah I’m a whore but you like that don’t you?” With that you cup his hard cock over his shorts he decided to wear today.

He gasps and immediately grips your wrist to yank those devilish hands away from his throbbing length. Especially when he hears your mother’s voice calling out from inside the house.

He backs off and tries to catch his breath as well as calm his raging hard on down to an unnoticeable minimum. Before he leaves to figure out what she called for he turns to you and lifts an accusing finger towards you.

“We ain’t done baby, ya gonna make it up to me for teasin and leavin me all high and dry, mkay?” He tilts his head almost to intimidate you but to no avail you’re just a massive brat “Hmmm sure Joeliii but i think your underwear is anything but dry.” You giggle and continue “Probably full of pre cum am I right,huh?”

Joel can’t believe what he’s gotten himself into and just shakes his head while turning to the house.

Somehow he made it through the barbecue without your mother noticing any tension between Joel and you. Stupid of her but good for you.

In the weeks after that afternoon you and him kept secretly meeting up. Most of the time at his house or he’d pick you up with his truck to drive you somewhere where he could have you without any distractions, of course when your mom wasn’t home. She might be stupid but even to her it would be weird why you suddenly start taking trips with Joel and she should not be suspicious.

Also during the talks with Joel that happened when taking a break between fucking it was once again made clear that he for whatever reason had not an ounce of knowledge about your mom’s crush.

The plan for how the reveal should go was set in motion. Your mom was driving out to one of those weird grocery stores that sold the health powders she drowned herself in, in hopes of making her more pretty from the inside out but to no avail the rot can’t be reversed.

You knew how long that would take her, it gave you enough time to fuck Joel in her favorite spot on the couch. Yeah petty and perhaps childish but you don’t care make her remember how you defiled her lovely couch with the man she was in love with.

Joel showed up 10 minutes after she drove off. You barely got the door closed behind him before he pounced on you. It’s been a few weeks since you fucked him last, you wanted him to be desperate for it so he’ll might be more focused on pounding you then notice that your mother is returning.

He immediately slotted his lips over yours, his hands grabbing at your hips with urgency.

You spin with him attached to your lips so you can guide him where you want him, on the couch. His breathing is already elevated and by the significantly evident bulge he’s massively turned on. Good, the less rational thinking the better.

While you push him towards the couch his lips slip down your jaw and land on your throat kissing and sucking all over. Between those kisses he huffs “Babyyy - I’ve - missed - ya so - much…” you just hum as an answer and when the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch he’s forced to unlatch from you.

He falls back, his head hitting the soft pillows so he’s only slightly elevated. You wink at him “yeah I bet you have and most of all He has missed me huh? Looks almost painful, did you not touch yourself in meantime?”

He sounds a bit whiny in his response “No Baby haven’t touched myself, saved it all for ya greedy little pussy.” Even when you think to have the upper hand he reminds you how different it actually is. “Come on baby, why don’t ya take of that lil skirt an’ take seat on my lap.” While grabbing at his crotch.

Your mouth is watering but there’s no time today to get your mouth on him like you usually love to. At his dirty words you can feel some wetness gush from your pulsing cunt, coating the inside of your thighs. As requested you slip your flowy skirt down your legs.

Joel let's out a gasp „No panties baby? Ya naughty little slut.“ he chuckles and you retort „Don’t need them if I’m with you, so why make it harder than it needs to be?“ at that Joel can only nod.

„Come here Sweet Moon Love.“ he demands.

You get on your hands and knees between his spread legs that lay on the couch. Slowly crawling towards him teasing him with your tits that are almost spilling out of your skimpy tank top.

When you finally sit down on his jeans-covered cock he lets out a sound of relief. Your knees on either side of his hips and his hands immediately find home on your hips and ass, kneading and caressing the skin there.

„Fuck Moon ya turn me on so much take of that goddamn top and show me those sweet sugar tits.“

So you do, slipping it over your head and throwing it somewhere behind you. He’s not surprised by the lack of a bra. He knows you hate wearing them and if he’s honest he loves that a lot, easier access and all.

Joel’s hands go from your hips up to the tits he loves so much. Carefully touching them, his warm hands and the wonderful feeling making it unable not to moan. Swiping his calloused fingers over your nipples, twisting them with determination causing you to keen.

You start arching your back towards his groping hands. His administrations cause the pull in your lower stomach to Continuously get stronger. You are convinced his jeans are covered in your juices and without realizing you’ve started to rub your bare pussy over his bulge with vigor.

„Joel enough I need you inside me, now!“ You don’t even wait for a response, lifting your hips and loosening his belt and unbuttoning the buttons of his jeans. With his help you drag his pants down but only so much that you are able to pull his throbbing cock out of the confines that are his blue boxers and you can see a huge dark spot where pre cum leaked, making you look at Joel chuckling „You really want it huh? Daddy” with a sweet lilt that makes his dick Twitch in your hands.

He just groans “Baby Moon if ya don’t sit down on my cock right now I’ll do it myself and I won’t give ya time to adjust.” He threatens but it really only turns you on more.

You peer up at the clock and see that you only have about 15 minutes left.

You take your original position and when his warm length slips through your moist folds his pre cum mixing with your own juices to create an addicting squelching sound.

At this point the dark hair nestling at the base of his cock and his happy trail are completely soaked.

“Gosh, Sweetheart she’s gushing all over me, put it in. She wants my cock don’t keep her waitin” you love when he talks in this way about your cunt, makes you wetter if that’s even possible.

You lift up a bit again and take hold of his length with one hand, the other on his chest to stabilize yourself. Dragging his leaking head through your glossy folds before lining him up with your gushing opening. You take one deep inhale cuz you know it’ll be a stretch even with how often you've done this.

Before sinking down on him you look at him there’s guilt somewhere deep in your conscience but you shake your head, you ain’t backing out now.

You slowly start to sink down when Joel decides it’s not quick enough so he grips your hips and in one swift fast motion sheets his huge dick inside your tight cunt.

“Ahhh..-ah J-Joel what the fuck” you hiss slapping his chest hard for being so impatient.

He huffs “Sorry Baby but Daddy has waited long enough for Her, just shush.” He actually has the audacity to shush you.

You get used to the feeling of being so filled to the brim and slide back & forth for a moment.

Then you put your feet down flat on the couch and grip the headrest behind him before starting to fuck him in earnest. Up and down at first slowly but steadily you get quicker and harder. Joel can’t even speak unless you count his obnoxiously loud moaning and growling.

“Yeah how you like that old man, hmm Daddy you're all quiet this pussy shut you up good, huh?” You wonder and out of nowhere one of Joel’s big hands grips your throat making you slow your movements to a minimum. He pulls your face toward his and grunts “Baby Moon ya need to be put in your place, ya bratty ass is treading on some mighty thin ice.”

He gives you one hard peck and then shoves your face in his neck. You don’t complain, you love when he’s so rough with you and his musky masculine smell is your favorite.

Joel pulls his legs up and plants his feet on the couch just like you did and then he starts to relentlessly push up into you at an alarming speed so hard that if it weren’t for the arm pinning you to his chest you’d fall off.

“Jo-Joel….Joel it’s so good ah…don’t stop” you babble in his ear and opposite to his harsh pounding he soothes “Shhh Baby I know, I know it’s so much for ya and Her. But listen to how much she’s enjoying it.”

And he’s right besides the obscene “plap, plap, plap” of skin hitting skin you can hear the wet squelching from the place you're both connected. “I’m close baby, where?” He asks while slipping a hand between your bodies to touch your neglected clit and immediately your whiny moans get even louder “I-in…inside Daddy. Pleaseee cum inside me.”

You beg and he loves that “Hmm yeah, ya wanna be filled up Baby?” He questions “God yes Daddy fill me up, please pleasee” you want nothing more than to feel him spill inside of you.

Seems that when Joel told you he was kinda deaf in his right ear it wasn’t a lie or maybe the plan of making him so desperate to fuck you that he won’t hear the door unlocking worked out.

But you can hear the slight clicking and the closing of the door. Unlike what you expect she does not start screaming, no, she’s eerily quiet. Perhaps it’s due to not having realized who exactly you're screwing as if there’s no tomorrow or simple shock.

Joel under you seems to have reached his end and without any preamble he starts shooting his warm cum deep inside your tight hole. The warm sensation combined with his unrelenting rubbing your clit pushes you over the finish line too. With that you pull up from his neck and drag him up as well, crossing your arms around his neck and kissing him.

You know she is right there at the threshold, you don’t care and to rub it in even more you say “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” And as if he knows his role Joel answers “I love you too little Moon.”

And that might have been the final straw, she speaks up and it flips out into incoherent screaming. Joel is immediately startled; he lightly pushes you off, quickly tugging himself back into his jeans and getting up to explain. You however get up slowly and put your top and skirt back on.

With the lack of panties you can feel his spend leaking out of you and you’re sure there’s very evident stains on Joel’s jeans that your mother must see.

The back and forth they must be having doesn’t even register to you. The blissful buzzing from the orgasm and the satisfaction of having succeeded in hurting her are making you all dozzy.

But then she comes charging at you screaming in your face “You’re smiling, you think this is funny??? I knew you were a bitch who only ruins everything, you are a worthless piece of shit a absolute waste of space” she’s so hysterical but you don’t care, it’s good she’s showing her true colors for Joel to see.

She continues “You are disgraceful and shameful for the entire family. I want you out of the house now. You are dead to me.” She probably thinks those words could hurt but it’s nothing compared to all the horrible things she did in the past. You just smirk at her nodding which infuriates her more than any comeback could.

With that you slip past her, Joel looks completely stunned by what just unfolded before his eyes. You don’t acknowledge him much, quickly skipping up the stairs,entering your room, grabbing a suitcase and filling it with the most important items. Then shuffling out of your room locking it behind you. You heave the suitcase down the stairs, no sign of Joel all you can hear is her crying in the living room, it amuses you, not an ounce of sympathy left for her. You don’t bother saying bye just open the front door and out you are.

The surprise is waiting in front of the house, Joel, he didn’t leave but instead waited for you.

He looks at you “Did it mean anything to you at all, or was it just a big joke?” He doesn’t look hurt, just confused. You close the distance between him and you “I wish it wouldn’t but it’s not possible to not feel anything, look at you Joel you’re a so beautiful so caring of course I fell for you.” He nods and takes your suitcase out of your hand. “Wh..what are you doing ?” You question “I’m taking ya home Moon, think I’d let you run around these streets? Get in the car” he urges.

And you do, when he drives off you don’t look back once.

Npt: @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @studioghibelli @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @clawdee @penvisions 🩶

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

[loveshotzz]

We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”

[mrsdesade]

I'd like something based on Sage vs fem!supe! Maybe them arguing and then Homie forced to choose between one of them, but everything ending up with something unexpected! You choose what :)

Shattered glasses;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (I use Ophera bc I don't like writing ''y/n'' y'know) TW: slight angst, mention of poisoning, morally grey fem!supe Timeline: season 4 Words count: 2,7k Note: thanks for the request dear anon, I was waiting for writing something about s4 :) ofc no hate for any characters!!

Sister Sage never liked you. From the first moment she saw you, she knew you would be a hindrance. She's not jealous, not even in love with him, she just wanted to control Homelander, and you already had him in your grasp. But the little flaws in your absolutely not perfect relationship with him were the perfect opportunity for her to destroy you and get you fired.

For months she had been trying to make you look incompetent or unable to do your work, she was the smartest woman in the world, and in her eyes you were just another showgirl like the others.

But you were on the Seven from the early years and, oh, you didn't liked at all the fact that Homelander had chosen her as his advisor.

You, you are his partner, he should listen to you.

It has always been about control, rarely about love. But now you feel jealousy boiling in your veins, your control over him is slipping away, and you feel in danger. You know that you'll have to prove to Sage that it is not so easy to get rid of you.

Sister Sage sat comfortably at the table of the Seven, her hands folded in front of her, sipping a steaming cup of chamomile tea. With a delicate motion, she set the cup back down on its saucer, and flashed you a calm smile.

“I think you’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. You’re making this personal. It’s simply business.”

She's too confident in her intellectual abilities, to the point of arrogance. She's good at reading people, especially their feelings and insecurities, and she uses that to her advantage in arguments, trying to make you say something stupid and make you look like a fool.

“You’ve had your chance at the top, dear. It’s time to accept that things have changed.”

You are standing, with your hands placed on the table, clenched into two fists to hold back your nervousness, looking for the right words to face her, but nothing comes out of your lips.

“Listen, I understand your… frustration. After all, you’re nothing more than a relic these days, don’t you think? A fading star.”

The words hit you like a blow to the gut. Her casual insults were like salt rubbed vigorously into an open wound. You fight back the urge to respond with anger, knowing that she's goading you into a reaction.

“Oh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? That’s exactly what I meant. You’re stuck in the past. You can’t adjust to the changes. It’s kinda pathetic, really.”

You wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and wipe that arrogant smile off her face, but you knew that’s exactly what she wanted. So you took a deep breath, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

“I suggest you think about your words better, the last person who dared to call me pathetic didn't end well.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“You can try to intimidate me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that your time has passed. No matter what you do, you won't be able to get your spotlight back.”

“Dear, I fill the stadiums, the arenas, millions of people come to hear my voice every night, every single event is sold out in minutes! I wouldn't call this decay of a carreer.”

“Ah, yes, the fame and the adoration of the masses. Impressive, really. But I was referring to another type of spotlight here.”

She paused for a moment, studying your face before continuing. Your gaze has become dark, almost threatening, you know perfectly well where he wants his speech to end.

“We both know you lost your real spotlight a long time ago…the one that matters. Homelander won’t change his mind about me.”

Your expression betrays your emotions, anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

“You're playing a dangerous game Sage, you know that? You think you can just waltz in here and take my place?”

“Ophera, is it so hard to accept that I’m better equipped for the job? You’ve always been so blinded by your ego and your pride. Your strategy is always to stay safe and not lose your career, Vought needs much more than this.”

Her expression was cool and calculating, as If she had already mapped out every possible reaction you might have.

“And let's clarify, I don’t need to take your spot. I already have.”

Your face twisted in anger, your fists gripped the table’s edge, under your gloves knuckles turning white.

“You arrogant little—“ you began, but she calmly interrupted you.

“Now, now, there’s no need for insults.” she chided, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “We’re adults here, we can speak calmly and intelligently like any normal person, don’t you agree?”

“You're feeling cool, mh? Acting all smart and knowing everything. I've been a part of this Seven for years. And you, you're nothing.”

Her cool demeanor began to crack, and a hint of annoyance flickered across her face at your words.

“Ah, here it goes. The same old tired argument. I've been here longer, I'm more experienced, blah blah blah.”

She leaned forward, her eyes boring into yours with an intensity that contradicted her calm exterior.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” you teased, mirroring her earlier taunt.

“Don't get too comfortable.” she retorted, her voice slightly sharpened. “You should remember that your position here is fragile. One wrong word, one wrong move, and you could lose everything you have left.“

You leaned forward now, your voice lowering as you met her gaze.

“You seem to forget that I’ve still a pretty big influence over Homelander myself. I can make things difficult for you if I want to.”

“I think we both know who he listens to these days.”

The conversation was cut short when the door to the room burst open, and Homelander strolled in, his presence immediately filling the space. His eyes flicked between the two of you, sensing the tension in the room.

“What's going on here?”

You and Sage both turned your attention to him, quickly composing yourselves.

“Just a chat. I was merely informing Ophera of some important developments within about the Vought future.”

Homelander glanced at you, tilting his head slightly as he observed.

“A chat, huh? Didn't look like a friendly one to me.”

“You're right. And since it's clear that Sage loves telling you lies, I'll tell you that wasn't just a simple chat.” an adorable, mischievous smile escapes from your lips. Exposing the little lie she told to him.

Homelander's eyes immediately landed on Sage, waiting for her to respond. “Care to explain?”

Sage shifted in her seat, clearly irritated that you had exposed her lie. “It's nothing serious, just a typical argument between colleagues. Nothing you need to worry about.” she replied quickly, trying to downplay the situation.

And incredibly, it works.

Homelander nods like a tamed puppy and believes her.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration as Homelander seemed to buy into Sage's explanation so easily. It seemed like she had him wrapped around her little finger.

“I see, things like this happens, just keep it professional, ladies, okay?”

Sage shot you a quick, victorious look, smug knowing her sweet words to him had prevailed, again.

Disappointment flooding through your veins. It infuriated you how easily Homelander seemed to believe blindly in to Sage's words. You tried to maintain a neutral expression. But you won't have another opportunity like this to assert your dominance, you have to think of something quickly. Sage sure is smart, but you can be really sly.

You pretended to shrug nonchalantly, even though inside you were seething with anger. But you weren't done yet.

You locked eyes with Homelander, ensuring he was listening to you. And then you spoke, your voice dripping with feigned concern.

“It’s true, it wasn’t a big deal. But there’s one thing that concerns me, Homelander. May I be honest with you?”

He tilted his head slightly, curiosity piqued. “You've to.”

“I felt a bit insecure lately and I was wondering...If I should save Sage from poisoning or me from falling from a building. Who would you save?”

Your question comes like an unexpected bolt of lightning, without anyone being able to foresee it or understand its real intention. You cross your arms over your chest and walk around the room slowly, waiting for a response.

He's is taken aback by your question, and the room falls silent. Sage glanced at you quickly, an unexpected flicker of worry in her eyes.

Homelander's eyes follow you as you walk around the room. He's quiet for a few moments, considering the weight of your words before answering.

“Why should I choose, I can save both without effort, you know that.” he finally responds, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your lips curled into a smirk - the answer is far from satisfactory.

“Of course, but let's say you can only choose one.” you persist, your voice steady. “Who would it be?”

His expression unreadable. He's definitely taken off guard by your insistence, and you can see a hint of annoyance starting to form underneath the surface.

“There are too many factors to consider, I can't just say one random name. Fuck, you and your stupid questions...”

Sage looks down at the cup of chamomile tea she was drinking a few minutes ago, and for a second the fear of having been poisoned actually makes her shiver.

“And that's why I'm here to listen all of your thoughts about.” you smile at him once again, hiding something dark behind your kind tone.

Homelander sighs, finally realizing you won’t back down. He crosses his arms, staring at you with slight irritation.

“Fine. Let's say, If I had to choose, I'd likely save Sage first.”

Sage's head snapped up upon hearing his decision, and her eyes widened in surprise. But you answer him carefully, still smiling.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I mean, you're more resistant than her, you wouldn't really die falling from a building. While Sage body is totally human, he would certainly die without an antidote for the poison.”

Your smirk widens, you expected this.

“There, happy now? I solve your fucking riddle.”

You quickly turn away from the conversation and casually walk over towards the large window you know is behind Sage's seat. Acting as if you were admiring the view outside, you casually reach for the handle and pull the window open. The gust of wind that blows in is strong enough to be unexpected, the documents on the table rattle, and the curtains wave violently.

Sage's hand involuntarily releases her cup of tea, and as it hits the floor and the liquid splashes in her direction, a look of panic and realization flashed across her face.

She quickly rises from her seat, her body shaking subtly, trying to play it off as if it was just a simple accident. But anyone can see the flicker of panic behind her eyes. The liquid seeps into the carpet, staining it a dark brown.

“You— Ophera what have you done to my tea?!”

Homelander's eyes narrow, his attention suddenly diverted from the ongoing conversation.

You feign surprise, tilting your head to the side innocently. “Me? Nothing.”

“Bullshit!” Sage points a finger at you, a mixture of shock and fury on her face. She starts to feel strange, she feels dizzy and her legs are shaking.

You turn back to the large open window, the strong gust of wind causing your hair to flutter and the hem of your uniform to flutter. As you look outside, you subtly step back, closer and closer to the edge, the tips of your feet barely holding onto the edge of the window frame.

“What the hell are you doing Ophera?” he say, his voice sharp. “Get away from the window, where has your fear of great heights gone?”

Your eyes flick toward Homelander, a sly smile playing on your lips as you continue to stand dangerously close to the open window, your words dripping with a hint of manipulation.

“Well, I guess now you finally have a real opportunity to choose, love.”

A moment of silence hangs in the air as they're taken off guard by your audacity. Suddenly, without any warning, you lean back, and with a graceful leap, you launch yourself out of the window.

Homelander's heart skips a beat.

“No…No, don't—” he exclaimed desperately, his body moving on instinct.

The wind immediately engulfs you as the ground rapidly comes closer and closer. You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, looking at the blue sky, the thrill of the freefall mixing with the intense rush of the air hitting your back.

In an instant, a blur of red and blue rushes towards you as Homelander flies out, he flies towards you at superhuman speed shattering the glass of the other windows. He moves closing the distance between you and him in mere seconds.

From the window, Sage leans out, looking at you both with disbelief. Her eyes widened, and her mouth hangs open, speechless at the turn of events.

Homelander catches you mid-air, wrapping his arms around you, the wind still rushes around you both. You can feel his hands shaking a bit as he holds you.

You look up at him, a cheeky smirk dancing on your lips. A breathless laugh escapes you, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Your heart pounds, and a sense of exhilaration washes over you. The suddenness of your action still hangs in the air, and his surprise is evident in his eyes.

“Ops, I guess you picked me.”

Homelander huffs, his grip on you slightly loosening, relaxing, floating in air with you. He shakes his head, relief and frustration clear on his face.

“You're out of your goddamn mind woman.”

“Maybe I am. But, at least you still care enough to save me.” you chuckle softly, enjoying the moment of his attention.

He rolls his eyes, but you can see a smile on his lips and he's slowly moving in the hair to coming back inside the Tower.

You reach out to caress his face gently, your touch tender against his skin. Your hand trail over his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your fingertips. Your other hand still grips onto the fabric of his suit, holding onto him.

“Y'know...I thought Sage brainwashed you into choosing her over me, but I'm happy to see that's not the case.”

His expression softens a little, his eyes meeting yours.

“Believe me, I think she tried. But she didn’t brainwash me at all.” he grumbles, his voice low. “I’m not that easy to control. You should know that..”

“I know you're far from being easy to control. You’re too stubborn and prideful for that.”

He huffs again, with his bold smirk on his lips. “You’re quite stubborn too, maybe more than me. Just look at your little stunt back there.”

As he lands back inside the room with you in his arms, the scene is a little chaotic. He takes a moment to check you are okay, before his eyes land on Sage, who is now passed out on the floor.

“Was really necessary to poison her? Despite your jealousy he was an excellent strategy member to the team.” he say, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Relax. She's not dead. There wasn't a single drop of poison or anything in her tea.” you look down at Sage's unconscious body, lying motionless on the floor, and a small, satisfied smile lifts the corners of your lips.

“Then why the hell is she passed out?” he asks, puzzled.

You kneel down next to her and tilt your head to the side as you examine her unconscious form. The feeling of triumph washes over you, knowing that you managed to manipulate her fear and doubt to your advantage.

“With a brain like hers, mental deceptions are more effective than anything else. It was enough for me to convince her that she had been poisoned and goodnight little sunshine.”

He lets out a low whistle, impressed by the simplicity of your tactic.

“Damn. You really know how to mess with people's heads.”

There's admiration in his voice. An admiration for you that you can still wear like a medal.

“But you really had to prove a point in such a dramatic manner, huh?”

You stand back up, brushing off your uniform and looking at Homelander with a smug smile.

“I had to do something to prove to her, and you, who your favourite really was.”

-------

Hope you like it! I will calmly continue to write about him based on your ask box requests, I will not leave anyone unsatisfied, I promise <3

[blue-slxt]

Truth or Dare

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Okay so I've had this idea for a while, but I just had no idea how to really execute it. So huge thanks to the anon that suggested the truth or dare premise. I love you! I hope you guys enjoy this one. This is also my first time really writing Ao'nung where he's involved in the story so go easy on me lol. All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Metkayina!Reader x Lo'ak x Ao'nung

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT, P in V, Oral (F receiving), Train, Squirting, Intense Orgasms, Creampie, Alcohol, (kinda) Manipulation, I think that's it

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: A game of truth or dare takes a turn when Ao'nung confronts you about a rumor he heard.

When the Sully family first arrived on your shores, everybody was weary of them and their presence. While Jake was basically a living legend with his status as toruk makto, everybody knew that him being here meant that the sky people wouldn’t be far behind. Nevertheless, Tonowari granted them uturu. Ao’nung and Tsireya were in charge of teaching the kids everything they needed to know to live here and you would tag along since Tsireya was your best friend.

The early days were rocky to put it lightly. The Sully boys and Ao’nung had a hard time getting along, which was entirely Ao’nung’s fault with his constant and unprompted teasing. You hated that part of him.

Even though Tsireya was like a sister to you, your feelings for Ao’nung were…more complicated. You had a crush on him for years, but you couldn’t deny that he had some irritating qualities about him. Usually, he only acted like that when he was with his friends. It was like he felt the need to show off for them. It was exhausting. And right around that time was when you started to actually take notice of the Sully brothers. They were so different from everything that you had grown up with. Their skin was a darker shade of blue, their frames were much more slim to help them maneuver through the forest more efficiently, thin tails, amber eyes, completely braided hair instead of any loose curls, and no tattoos to be seen.

Your curiosity had been piqued already by just their physical appearance. But as you got to know them, your interest grew. Neteyam was charming and traditional. He took training very seriously and you would often try to get him to loosen up and have a little fun. Lo’ak on the other hand was full of surprises. He was funny and adventurous. You enjoyed spending time with them.

Over the last couple of years that they’ve lived here, you’ve all grown close, even with Ao’nung. The Sully kids adapted to your ways quickly and they’ve become upstanding, respected members of the clan.

Tonight, you are all sitting around a fire on the beach drinking like you would do often when you all had some free time. You all laugh and joke and talk for hours under the night sky. Eventually Kiri announces that she’s ready to turn in for the night and Tsireya follows suit behind her leaving you alone with Ao’nung, Neteyam, and Lo’ak. The precarious position you’re in right now is lost on you, but not Ao’nung. He sees this as the perfect opportunity to have a little fun with you.

“How about we play a game?” he suggests with a sly grin.

You raise an eyebrow at him since suggesting games wasn’t usually his thing, but you were curious to see where this was going. “What game?” “Truth or Dare.”

“Alright, who wants to go first?” you ask.

You all shift your gazes around at each other for a second before Lo’ak decides to raise his hand and volunteer.

“Okay, Lo’ak, truth or dare?”

“Truth, hit me with your best shot.” He turns his nose up showing off his confidence in his choice.

You try to think of a good question to ask him, “Are you a virgin?” You’re not sure why that was the question that came to mind, but you put it out there now so you have to stand by it.

“Nope.” He winks at you when he answers and Neteyam swats his arm to tell him to behave.

“No real surprise there, I guess” you say about to take another sip of your drink.

“Guess you would know, huh?” you hear Ao’nung mumble next to you.

You turn to look at him with a questioning look, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean, guys talk. And I’ve heard a thing or two about you is all.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly while Neteyam and Lo’ak watch on.

“Alright, my turn to ask. Truth or dare?” Lo’ak asks you.

“Truth.” “So is it true? What all the guys say about you?” Neteyam hits Lo’ak again. He can’t believe that Lo’ak would actually ask you such a thing.

You don’t take any offence to the question, though. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” you laugh a little to yourself taking another swig of your drink.

“I would, actually.” Ao’nung speaks up. “See, I think you’re all talk. And the stories I’ve heard? I think they’re just that, stories. There’s no way you’d be able to handle a real pounding.” Ao’nung knew exactly what he was doing. He was challenging you. Testing you to see how far you’d go to prove him wrong. He’s always known how to manipulate you into doing what he wanted. And you weren’t stupid. You could recognize the manipulation from a mile away. But you could never stop yourself from playing right into his schemes. And this time would be no different.

“Please, I could take all 3 of you if I wanted.” You scoff. You’re mostly bluffing, but you’re feeling emboldened by the alcohol. Your words make Neteyam choke a little on his drink across from you.

Ao’nung leans closer to your face with a devilish look, “Prove it, then. I dare you.”

Your jaw clenches while you mentally wrestle with yourself. Were you really about to do this? Just to prove a point? What point were you even trying to actually prove? But you didn’t want to back out now. Fuck it.

“Fine. Who wants to go first?” You look between the three of them and each of them have a different expression on their faces. Neteyam looks borderline horrified at the suggestion. Lo’ak is in disbelief. And Ao’nung looks smug as hell. “I’ll do it. Doubt you’ll actually see it through though” he taunts. He stands to undo his loincloth while you do the same.

Neteyam and Lo’ak are wide-eyed at the scene unfolding front of them. “Bro, is this for real?” Neteyam leans over and asks Lo’ak not fully believing what he’s witnessing. “Bro, I sure hope it is.”

You lie on your back and let your knees fall open to expose your glistening cunt. Ao’nung has a quick flash of amazement run across his face before he replaces it with his signature sly grin. “So wet already. Is that all for me?” he teases while rubbing his tip through your slick.

“You wish. This is for our audience.” You retort and shoot a wink to the two brothers watching in disbelief. Both of their faces are flushed, but Lo’ak’s eyes are already staring at you full of lust. Your eyes snap back to Ao’nung when he starts to sink into you.

Your mouth falls open feeling the way he stretches you. Truth was, you had only had sex once before. It was stupid and didn’t last that long and you both agreed to not tell anybody about it. Clearly, you were the only one that held up your end of the agreement and that’s part of the reason you’re even in this situation right now.

Ao’nung was much bigger than the other guy and the fullness makes tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you fight to hold them back. By the time he bottoms out inside of you, your fingers are digging into the sand beneath you trying to steady yourself while you adjust to his intruding size.

“Damn, so fucking tight. You sure you’re not a virgin?” he’s trying to tease you, but you can see how his breathing starts to stagger. He sets a slow pace steadily thrusting into your heat. Your eyes close feeling his hips roll into yours. The pain quickly subsided and left only pleasure in its wake. Soft moans leave your lips feeling how he grazes your sweet spot. You lock your legs around his waist pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Oh fuck, right there.”

Ao’nung can’t take the sound of your voice. It’s driving him crazy to watch the way his cock sinks into you over and over again. He had secretly wanted this for so long. To have you right now, hair splayed out, eyes rolling back, and sweet moans leaving your mouth, it’s more than he can bear. He buries his face in your neck breathing in your scent and letting it cloud his senses.

You look over at Neteyam and Lo’ak relishing in the feeling of being watched. Neteyam has a hard time holding his eyes on you, but Lo’ak is completely tuned in and stroking himself through his loincloth. His eyes don’t leave you for a second. Something about knowing that he’s watching you be used and knowing that he’s touching himself just dying to be inside of you turns you on even more. It makes the growing knot in your stomach tighten even more, just seconds away from snapping. “Oh shit…I’m gonna cum.”

Ao’nung sits up on his knees and throws your legs on his shoulders to angle your hips up and drill directly into your sweet spot. “Ah!..Ao’nung ha-ah….I’m cumming!” your head falls back and your hands desperately search for something to grab onto while your first orgasm washes over you. Ao’nung grunts above you feeling how your walls clench him even tighter and now he’s nearing his own high.

Once you ride out your high, he pulls out of you and strokes himself over you until he cums on your stomach. It’s hot and thick, but the feeling grounds you back into reality. Both of your chests are heaving trying to catch your breath.

You look up at him while he’s composing himself, “Told you.”

He chuckles lowly, “Don’t start talking shit just yet. You still have 2 more to go.” He grabs his loincloth and starts to redo it.

Lo’ak practically jumps from his place in the sand. He’s been eager to get his turn since you first agreed. It was almost painful how hard he was. He unties his loincloth and even you can notice how big your eyes get. His cock springs to life already rock hard and oozing precum. The length and girth are completely different from Metkayina men. Suddenly one of your friends’ words make sense to you now. ‘It’s always the skinny ones that surprise you.’ Guess she wasn’t joking.

He watches your face in amusement. He knew he was blessed and he had no intention of being humble about it.

“Alright, how do you want m—”

Before you can finish your thought, Lo’ak had already flipped you over and hoisted your hips up into the air. “Just like that.” His hands slide up and down your thick thighs and his calloused fingers grip the plush of your ass. He grips and spreads and smacks just relishing in the view of your arousal dripping down your legs. He feels like his head is spinning.

You prepare yourself for him to enter you, but instead, he uses his tongue and licks one long stripe from your clit up to your dripping hole and tongue fucks you. Now, this was a completely new sensation. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before and it was like heaven. “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

Little squeals and mewls fall from your mouth while his tongue pokes and prods inside of you. His hands continue exploring your ass and spreading you open even more for easier access.

Once he’s had his fill, he sits up on his knees and aligns himself with your hole. You feel the tip poke at your entrance and suddenly there’s lightning shooting through you as he rams his entire length into you at once.

He gives you no real time to adjust as he starts pounding into you. “Shit, man you weren’t kidding. She is fucking tight.” He’s pulled into a trance watching the way your ass bounces back against his hips. Your moans are loud and shameless. He reaches a new depth that feels like he’s poking into your stomach. It’s almost too much, but when you look over at Ao’nung and Neteyam, the way Neteyam starts to bite his lip listening to you and Ao’nung is casually stroking himself watching you, you can’t even be bothered to think about anything else but how much you want them to watch you more.

“Haah…more! More Lo’ak!” you breathlessly plead. Your body starts to move on its own throwing your hips back into him to meet his thrusts. You’re trying to push him even deeper into you which would normally hurt, but in the fog of your desire, it gives you nothing but satisfaction.

Lo’ak leans forward and reaches around to start rubbing messy circles on your clit. “Ah! Fuck!” The stimulation makes your whole lower body feel like electricity.

“Yeah, cum on that dick. Just like that.” His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and your body starts to shake under the force of your second orgasm. It’s too much to contain and you can feel an even more intense feeling taking over you right at the very peak. “Shit shit shit!” You have no time to get any more words out before you squirt all over Lo’ak’s lower body and hand. His fingers on your clit rub back and forth spraying your juices everywhere while he still pounds into you chasing his own high. “Ah! Lo-ak! Fuck!” Hearing how your voice calls out his name pushes him over the edge. He quickly pulls out of you at the last second and pumps his fist up and down his shaft until his hot cum spills onto your back.

Your legs finally give way and you fall into the sand. Lo’ak stands and pulls his loincloth back on. A dull ache starts to settle in your core from all the abuse it’s taken, but you harden your resolve knowing that there was still one more. You all turn to look at Neteyam and his face flushes feeling put on the spot. If you were being totally transparent, Neteyam was the one you were most curious about. Unlike most men his age, he didn’t go around bragging about his size or his sexual conquests. He has always been more reserved when it came to that kind of stuff. He was a wild card. You didn’t really know what to expect from him.

“Come on, bro. You’ve got to. Swear you won’t regret it.” Lo’ak says lightly slapping his shoulder.

He hesitates and stumbles over his words trying to pick whatever he feels like is the right answer. While he speaks, you notice the huge bulge under his loincloth. You muster all the strength you can find in your body and crawl over to him slow and sensually. His eyes lock on you and he watches as you get right between his legs and play with the knot on the waistband of his cloth. “Come on ‘Teyam. Come play with me.”

He swallows hard while you untie his loincloth and free his throbbing cock. His size may be the most impressive. It’s similar to Lo’ak, but slightly skinnier and about an inch longer. Your subconscious panics a little thinking about how it was going to fit inside of you. Lo’ak was already crowding your cervix when he was inside of you, but your conscious mind has already decided that you’re just going to have to make it fit.

Your hand strokes his dick experimentally watching his expression intently. He holds your gaze while his breathing gets quicker. The two of you don’t say a word, but your eyes say everything. You silently ask him if he’s okay with this and tell him it’s fine if he’s not. But he gives you the go ahead to continue finally giving in.

You carefully straddle his lap and grind your cunt against him and coat him in your slick and the remnants of your last orgasm. His hands rest on your hips while you grind on him. “We’ll just take it easy, okay?” you say gently to him and he nods.

You lift your hips and catch his tip right on your entrance. You lower yourself down on him slowly to help ease him into it, but also because your hole is so worn out from the previous beatings and you need to take his size slowly. Inch by inch he reaches deeper and deeper into you until you could swear he’s knocking on the bottom of your lungs. It’s almost hard to even breathe by the time you make it all the way down. He watches your face trying to make sure that you’re okay and he’s not hurting you. You have to bite your lip to hold back the soft sobs that want to escape from the twinge of pain. You just have to push past this discomfort and then it’ll be fine. That’s how it goes. Slowly, you start to rock your hips back and forth on top of him. From the way Neteyam’s eyebrows knit together, you can tell he feels good and that helps you to relax and start to feel good too. You guide his hands to grip your ass, “It’s okay” you whisper to him. You let his hands grip you and lead your hips to where it feels best for him. Soon, he starts to let his hips buck up into you and it’s overwhelming. “Haah…oh fuck Neteyam…” your head feels dizzy while he strokes up into you. He’s much more gentle than Ao’nung or Lo’ak and, for now, you thank Eywa for that. Your hands grip his braids and hold his head close to your chest where Neteyam kisses and licks and sucks on every single inch of skin he can see. His big arms completely wrap around your waist to hold you in place while he ruts into you faster and harder.

“Shit, just look at how good she takes it. Maybe those rumors are true.” Lo’ak says to Ao’nung somewhere behind you. You almost forgot you had an audience and the thought of them watching as your ass bounces up and down on Neteyam’s dick sends you into a frenzy. Moans and curses weave together as they leave your mouth losing yourself on top of Neteyam. He lets out low, guttural groans feeling your heat hugging around him perfectly. Even in his best dreams, he hasn’t imagined you feeling this good. And he dreamed about it a lot. 

That knot is growing in your stomach again and it’s back with a vengeance. “’Teyam, I-I’m gonna cum!”

“Shit, me too.”

You cling onto him for dear life trying to chase that high. You don’t bother to get off of him when he says he’s going to cum. All that matters is reaching that euphoria. When the knot snaps, it breaks with the force of a typhoon. Your mind goes completely blank and your vision spots with white dots, but your body moves on autopilot still rising and sinking on his cock. “Hng..shit..” Neteyam can’t hold off his own release anymore with the way your walls are squeezing him and he spills everything he has inside of you.

The fire in your core damn near sends you over the edge again, but you finally feel yourself fall back into your body as you come down.

Both of you are sweaty and clinging onto one another while your minds clear the lustful stupor you both got caught up in.

Neteyam helps lift your hips up just high enough so that he can pull out of you. The emptiness makes you wince, but you’re relieved. You fall back into the sand and stare up at the sky while the night’s events race through your head.

Ao’nung slow claps off to the side of you. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d be able to do it, but I’ll concede. You proved me wrong.”

Bullshit. He never cared about being proven wrong or right. And you knew that, but you couldn’t find it in you to give a damn.

A wide smile split your face and you turn your head to look at him.

“We should play this again some time.”

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Six: Lover's Games

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You feel a need to follow up with Ernest Lawrence, much to Robert's dismay, and also uncover buried information that makes you turn rather rebellious.

Word Count: ~7,592

Warnings: Martial angst, infidelity, age gap, unwanted advances, slight physical violence, period stereotypical gender roles, clothed sex, some orgasm denial and sexual humiliation

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy. It is essentially very much a dramatization and AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer, Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence, Jack Quaid as Richard Feynman, etc. from the film only while other characters are my own entirely made up ones!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @uniquetacofun, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86, @lacontroller1991, @kishie8, @anime-lover-forever-1127

If you'd like to be added to the list, let me know please.

June 1943

You waited a couple of weeks after the party to move past the point of just taking actual action only in consideration in the sense of springing a scheme by meeting up with Lawrence, keeping Robert under the radar all the while and he himself was certainly distant, (distracted by work of course) but also deliberately choosing to give you space. It was fine, but it made you uneasy of how much he was extracting his emotions and you were starting to feel as if you were on a carpet of thin eggshells every moment you and him were alone together, which was usually only at night sleeping in the same bed.

Weekday dinners were a polite affair as well and you mostly ate for yourself, him eating a portion of his plate before he went to shut himself in his designated office room and came to bed hours into the wee morning. He was gone longer now during the day and one early evening, you found yourself cleaning the house alone with no company or pressing responsibilities to attend to, and you went into his office, rearranging his paperwork and dusting the bookshelves when you decided to take a peek into his desk, knowing he kept many personal writings there. Perhaps a poem or musing that could give an indication of what was happening inside his brain and why you were hitting a cold patch in the marriage.

After sifting through many documents, discarded calculations, and correspondence letters, you finally found his dearest belongings buried in the bottom drawer. You knew several of these, for they were cards - birthday, anniversary, well-wishers from the wedding - and some of your own (love poems, really) that you had exchanged with him and even simple notes of wanting to meet for dinner, a party, vacation at his Perro Caliente ranch, anything that merited invitation. You grew teary at a few, oddly nostalgic even though it was only a couple of years ago. But this project had somehow changed everything out of alignment.

A thin stack of folded papers wedged in-between a Valentine's Day card from you last year and inside an envelope that had a wax heart the color of dried blood stamped on it caught your attention and you carefully peeled the corners back to extract the papers, which looked to be three separate pieces creased into halves. You took the one on top and unfolded it to reveal a letter. It had no formal or informal greeting and you blinked, reading the words in your husband's scrawling cursive handwriting. The first few lines seemed more like a diary entry than anything else until you read further...

Well, I am wearier lately than anyone could possibly guess because I have grown adept at adopting a mask of confidence and optimism. But it is a foolish man's desire to remain unchanged and hopeful in his situations that require more than words to express... I know you understand the moody tides well, my love, and I often wonder if you are feeling the bluing void edging on again as you often do, verging on the whole of complete consumption. Though it would be more appropriate to call it black as death itself; blue has been wrongly shamed in this case, although you could drown in my eyes.

Safe to say, I very much miss your presence and touch, the way you find comfort in me as if we are beyond mortal man and woman. Naturally, there are other parts of me that yearn for you as well, but I'm sure you could pinpoint exactly what. It wouldn't be proper to state it here, although I will never be sending this to you Jean. I sincerely hope you never read this because if you do, that means the war is ongoing and I have not evolved past this spout of melancholy. It is hard to determine the future when oneself is so pegged on the past and present... I feel as though I am stuck between the slides. How do I let myself be with you and yet here all at once? You feel light years away from me, though it is only a mere thousand miles, isn't it? I feel closer to the dying stars than compared to my active obligations here on Earth.

"Don't be an idiot, Robert, and alienate the few people who most understand you because one day you might need them." I can hear you say it now and I'm afraid I did exactly that to you but for reasons more monumental than myself. I thank you for being understanding over the phone, but I must remain in this slide while you are busy in your own microcosm of the world and it is easier to miss you, but I should place a bet against myself to see exactly how long this separation lasts. If you'll have me, I look forward to loving you in two or three year's time. I hope by then I do not fall out of the concept of love entirely and with an expiration date instead because that would be a tremendous dissatisfaction if you found another bull who could never match my (nor your) intellect. He would never deserve such a naughty angel as yourself and I myself won't let you linger past my mind too much longer, I promise.

Forever yours (or not, though I hope the prior),

Robert

He had added a postscript, written in original Sanskrit from The Bhagavad Gita and you squinted, seeing familiarity. You jumped up and went to the bookshelves, seeking out his copy and thumbing through the pages, finding the scripture that matched his handwriting and you recognized the passage as he had shown and translated it to you once.

And now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Why the fuck would he add that in as a PS in a pining love letter to his ex-girlfriend?

You put the book back and went to sit down on the floor beside his desk with the letter and other ones, which you dreaded opening in case they were more in the tone of lovesickness about Jean. You felt stunned and yet at the same time, unsurprised as if this was to be expected and maybe it was. It further proved that Robert hadn't completely emotionally filed Jean away as you'd thought and was planning on loving her again someday... Or he had just been really, really drunk when he composed this, but you highly doubted it.

Hands shaking, you set that letter aside gingerly as if it contained a deadly chemical and picked up a second folded piece of paper. When you opened it, you audibly gasped.

My Kitty,

I do hope you are well and pursuing a better life for yourself in the useful field of biology. Forgive me, I must be ridden with a fever, but wouldn't it be fortuitous if we perchance crossed paths in San Francisco one summer day? My flamboyant impossible imagination has flooded me again, so I'll indulge here: I'd see you out shopping and hopefully you would be with only female company (I take it your husband would be working, unless you have divorced) and we could strike up a conversation that led us to my Cadillac parked in the shadows of the shade, and I'd let you take refuge from the heat as my passenger and then I'd take your beautiful hand...

He had deeply scratched out the rest, but you could definitely make out a few lines of erotic poetry. In reaction, you bit your bottom lip so hard you nearly drew blood, and then reached for the last one, which was not a letter in the traditional sense, but more of a hastily scribbled note on an index card.

I need to see you soon. From one 'R' to another, you always have me at my truest regards.

You angrily swore aloud and started crumple this note, but paused. If you confronted him about it, this could blow up for both of you and you couldn't have that right now in the midst of life here for the project. No one was or could get divorced, that was not an option. No, you had to keep this secret and try to get back at him more stealthily. Robert clearly loved other women too much, that was it, and this was tangible of that. Enough was enough and it spurred on you to see the fellow you'd been avoiding since the party.

The next day, you went to Technical Area 1 and walked towards one of lab buildings, immediately noticed by the soldiers on guard and they came over, shaking their heads at you and your security clearance button, lower than permitted in such a site. You'd had to sweet talk your way just past the fencing to get to this point, but these particular hardened men didn't look swayable.

"I need to speak with my husband, it's urgent. Please," you begged dramatically, wringing your hands, and the men glanced at one another.

"He's preoccupied with his colleagues now, but we'll be sure to let him know about whatever it is, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

You pursed your lips, realizing they weren't going to let you just waltz into the building without an extremely good excuse, which you couldn't say.

"Fine. Good day, sirs." You walked far away from them and they went back to their business as you glanced around inconspicuously for an alternative entrance, going to another side. You found an unoccupied back door and hurried towards it, heart picking up pace.

"What are you doing?" a male voice called shrewdly from nearby behind.

"Shit," you muttered, whipping around to see a very suspicious Officer Nichols standing several feet away. Thankfully though, he was solitary.

"I'll have to report this, you know," he warned as you backed towards the shut door, forcing a big smile.

"Or what? You'll shoot me for finding my own husband?"

"Depends on the context. Dr. Oppenheimer is a very busy man and I'm sure he has much better to do with his limited time than to entertain his diligent token housewife."

You flushed angrily, feeling for the doorknob and of course it was locked.

"I swear to God I'm not doing anything else but speaking to him. I hardly know squat about quantum mechanics and the nature of his work," you lied, trying to appear absolutely innocent.

"Then what is so important you need to interrupt proceedings?" Officer Nichols asked sharply, coming closer.

"It's a highly urgent personal matter."

"I see." He paused, darting his eyes up and down the length of your body for a second before he spoke curiously.

"You haven't physically left The Hill since your arrival, is that correct?"

"Yes...?" you replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

Nichols stared at you for a moment through his glasses glinting in the midday sun and you looked back, locked in a strange thirty second unnerving silence of equilibrium. Finally he moved, stepping forward and nodding.

"I'll personally make sure that you never do."

"But no, I... I was planning on going shopping for supplies with some of the ladies this weekend in Santa Fe?"

He was silent and you were surprised when he took out a ringlet of keys, going to unlock the door.

"We all must make sacrifices, Mrs. Oppenheimer, and I'm sure your husband would agree. This is your reward for the loss of such a privilege, so go now before I change my mind and report you to General Groves."

You quickly darted inside without a backward glance, heart thudding in aftermath of the interaction. Did he really mean that? Would he get in trouble if someone found out? Or more importantly, would you get in a tight spot for sneaking around?

You strode through the maze of hallways past lab rooms, offices, and the like until you heard dull voices up ahead and saw Robert's back, face to the chalkboard, through a half-cracked door. The scientists turned to stare when they heard your heels come to a halt in the doorway, looking away from their paperwork and the blackboard. The awkward silence was deafening; a pin could drop at any moment and a man coughed, just to relieve the stagnant air. The lone female physicist of the group, Dr. Lilli Hornig, gave you a curious look with a quick polite smile as she scribbled something on a piece of paper. Robert froze with a cigarette in one hand and a piece of whittled chalk in the other, his blues boring into your face out of sheer shock.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"No. I merely need to borrow that man right there for a moment of time. It's a personal matter," you announced crisply, pointing straight at Ernest Lawrence, whose expression morphed from surprise and to utter bemusement.

"Excuse me, then," he muttered and stood up, shuffling papers self consciously before making his way to you, moving down the hallway. You randomly led him to an empty storage room and opened the door, lightly pushing him inside.

"What are you doing?" he asked empathically as you faced him in the middle of the room, steadying yourself as you looked up at him, unaccustomed to being so close to a man considerably taller and bulkier than Robert's physicalie.

"Remember a couple weeks ago in May at last month's party?" you asked briskly and his brow furrowed in realization.

"Admittedly, not as much as I should. Oppie jokingly mentioned the next day afterwards about needing to restrict the amount liquor we're consuming at the house when you're hosting because we're not frat boys," he replied with an honest shrug.

"Do you recall that kiss you gave me out of the blue?"

His face flexed, eyebrows shooting up as his mouth twitched in guilty humor and you narrowed your eyes.

"Yes, perhaps a bit of it. In my defense though, I wasn't quite all there and there was talk going around, silly talk. I was dared into doing it, actually."

Now your own eyebrows mimicked his at this confession and you stepped closer, toe-to-toe with his shoes.

"Who dared you?"

"Promise to keep it to yourself?"

"Sure."

"Richard was the instigator and then the rest of the guys coaxed him on. Absolute ridiculousness we never would have done otherwise, I swear to you it's the high altitude of this place having an effect on our immature raucous behavior combined with alcohol."

"Feynman? The rascal, I could've guessed," you rolled your eyes disapprovingly and he sighed, shifting slightly on his feet.

"I really do apologize for the regrettable behavior, I sincerely promise it won't happen again," he told you seriously and you cocked your head slightly, giving him a once-over.

"Do you find me attractive?"

Lawrence immediately grew reserved and reluctant, making a grimace.

"Oh, I... I, oh no, I don't think it would be permissible to answer that."

"Go ahead. I dare you."

He swallowed nervously and came close with intimidation, making you stagger back all the way to the wall behind you, where he placed a hand up on it by your head, leaning in intimately and his warm breath tickled your cheeks.

"Yes, I suppose. But I'm happily married and certainly not looking for trouble or to wreck your own marriage. You must think I'm a very lousy friend," he admitted quietly.

"I think you underestimate me, Doctor," you whispered, nearly a purr, as you moved close and brushed his cheek with your fingers. He tried to speak, but you shushed him and gently removed his glasses, letting them dangle in your grip as you tilted into him, pressing your other hand firmly to his broad chest, squeezing the fabric of his vest.

Footsteps suddenly sounded from the hall outside, so you made it fast, giving Ernest a fast peck on the lips, just in time as then the door briskly yanked open and Robert poked his head in dubiously. You leaned back, still holding the glasses and Lawrence fumbled for them, accidentally interlocking fingers as your husband stared in confused disbelief.

"Y/N? What is the meaning of all this? We have work to do, why are you taking up his time?"

"Oppie, it's fine, we were just..." Ernest paused, readjusting rims of the glasses back on his face and he turned to you, a bit breathless.

"What were we talking about exactly?"

"All your great achievements, including the Nobel Prize, in contributing to the advancement of science, most notably your famous cyclotron and I was inquiring about the exact mechanics of how such a thing works. Something along the lines of high energy particles and acceleration...?"

"Right, because you were going to write to your father, who is curious about it," he caught on, proliferating this cock-and-bull conversation.

"And why do you need to interrupt our work about that? Aren't you supposed to elsewhere?" Robert asked, not hiding annoyance in plain sight. You could feel Ernest staring, gaze locked on you and your stomach butterflied, but you gave a brave face.

"You mean my womanly duties at home?" you snapped back.

"Yes, or however you may call it. Now, we need our physicist back if you'll pardon me." He beckoned Lawrence urgently and the man reluctantly pulled himself away from you, clearly ashamed and flustered. Once he was out of the room, Robert stepped inside and shut the door closed with snap. His face was taunt and irritated, fingers habitually fiddling for the ghost of a cigarette.

"What are you playing at here?" he demanded, already hurt without any explanation.

"Just a follow up to our last meeting," you said causally enough to anger him. He crossed to meet you in two strides, catching your wrist and lifting up your arm, interlacing his fingers very tightly with yours as he spoke lowly, intensively.

"What is the matter, am I not giving you enough? Do I not provide enough for you? You feel an urge to court my best man and colleague all of a sudden because you are bored of your humdrum domesticity? Is that what you love about Los Alamos, the fine selection of like-minded substitutes once you tire of me? Am I not enough?" His voice raised before he caught himself, releasing a shaky breath. He was genuinely upset and you felt rotten, but only for a second. It's not like he was clean in this either.

"Don't be ridiculous. I swear, you always assume the worst of me," you scoffed in response.

"Well, I certainly know a cheat when I see one," he said bitterly, twisting his fingers out of yours and dropping his arm.

"Yes, you would know indeed. But Jesus, Robert, he's only a friend, your friend I might add, and it was only a bit of fun, nothing serious. You said it yourself, it's good for him to loosen up. What else are parties for?"

"Right. Oh, yes, I'm sure that's exactly it," he replied sarcastically.

"He started it, you know, after Richard dared him to kiss me apparently at the party."

"Then I'll be speaking to both of them. But you need to stop it, quit acting so childish and inappropriate over this. You're smarter than this shtick and there is too much at stake to be partaking in silly juvenile romantic games."

"You do realize I'm at least fifteen years younger than you, right? You can't expect me to be, well, whatever it is called to be at your age. Old, is it?" you mocked and normally that would've sounded very rude in any other situation, but he knew your sharp side all too well to take it too seriously, especially when delivered with a teasing smile.

"You couldn't think of a worse slander than 'old'?" he scoffed, unimpressed, and you snorted, tapping the knot of his tie affectionately.

"The point is, I am indeed younger than you."

"So? I have no issue with that and you have proved yourself very capable of co-existence so far, I think you are quite mature for your age actually, at least until now... But I don't think biological age matters in love."

"I was just over eighteen when you began courting me and you used to flirt with your few female physics students that were no older," you reminded him and he diverted his gaze, tapping his foot anxiously and he distractedly flicked out a cigarette from his pocket pack, lighting it in a second and puffing in response. You stepped back from the plume of smoke, glancing towards the window and crossing your arms. He exhaled loudly and jerked his hand to point the cigarette at you and then spoke with ultimatum.

"I don't want to see you enter this laboratory with the intention of unnecessary interruption ever again. I will tell the officers outside to stop and restrain you if you do. Hell, I'll take these matters to the General if I have to, you hear me on that?"

"I certainly do as a matter of fact and I also know for a fact that you'd be wasting his time. Petty marriage squabbles isn't a high priority or forte for a high-ranking military man like him. But as for you, well, now you know what it feels like to be jeopardized over another human being," you countered.

"My ties are very different and I would never think to do it so publicly! I am discreet about such internal, highly private business," he exclaimed, getting frustrated with this discussion and this made you laugh humorlessly.

"Bullshit and you know that. I saw you a week before our wedding walking hand in hand with Jean down Shasta Road and what about that time afterwards when our friends saw you dancing with-"

He quickly talked louder, running over your words heatedly.

"No, no, no. You are just feeding into this ridiculousness and fabricating a relationship that isn't there!"

"Maybe so, but I thought it would be a good lesson, or test, for you and if this is any indicator, you've been bothered. I take heart in that you must love me so that it has unnerved you to see me with another man."

"There was never any doubt that I love you. Christ, if that's what this is all about..." He sighed, rubbing his creased forehead briefly before walking backwards to the door, opening it up and you could hear the dull chatter of voices from the other room.

"Well?" you asked when he didn't do anything, just standing with hands on his hips.

"I want you to do whatever it is that pleasures you, just as long as it doesn't happen to be luring my top physicist and close friend in a back room during the middle of a workday. Have some standard decency for God's sake," he spat, the words stinging, and you crystalized, uncrossing your arms and shaking your head at the hypocrisy.

"I never noticed it until we came here, but Ruth sure has your attention, doesn't she?"

"Pardon?" He blinked.

"You heard me."

"Ruthie has nothing to do with this and how dare you drag her name through your muddled mood today."

"Ruthie?" You rolled your eyes at clear affection underlying his tone.

"Listen to yourself Robert, you have feelings for her, you've always been close."

"She's a very dear friend, one of the few people I can truly confide in and share my emotions with, nothing more," he insisted.

"Am I part of that select number of confidants?"

"Of, of course. Has our entire marriage been for naught? I cannot believe your attitude over this, it's deplorable."

"It must be very nice to be you, Robert. No one here in Los Alamos casts open judgement upon you," you commented bitterly and he cringed, closing his eyes for a brief moment before staring back at you.

"Not yet, anyway," he answered with a tone of cryptic ominousness and you only frowned, shoving past him to exit the building.

A full twenty four hours passed without further incident until you haphazardly ran into Feynman on the street, just the man you were looking for.

"Richard?"

"Yeah?" He stopped and gave you a familiar cocky smile which dropped at the narrowed eyes and serious expression you were giving him.

"Oh, is this about the party? I didn't think he'd even do it, I apologize for our frivolousness that night. Clearly very unacceptable." He cleared his throat awkwardly and you leaned close, speaking in a low murmur.

"Do me a favor?"

"Uh, sure...?"

"I have an assignment for you: Find me a single man - preferably scientist - in this town, anyone remotely attractive will do, but no close friends or direct colleagues of Robert's, it has to be at least second or third tier from his inner circle and single - I'm not crossing into some other woman's territory - and arrange me a date with him in secret. Think of it as an experimental equation: One attempted devoted wife plus one all-but-labeled womanizer husband plus unsuspecting stag. It's time to give someone a taste of his own sweet and sour medicine."

"Oh, you feel like causing a scandal, do you? It won't take a mathematician to see what it'll will add up to." He chuckled in disbelief but then dropped his voice, casting wary glances around at passing residents, or civilians, as everyone who was non-military were officially called.

"Are you quite sure about this?"

"If I let my conscience speak, then no. But if I let every other fiber of my being, then yes. Will you do it?"

"I... I can't, no, this is beneath us," he protested, scratching the back of his neck in discomfort.

"It's one event at a casual party, it's quite another outside... Well, you know. Real tampering with people's lives has consequences and I'm not sure I'm the man for this job, I think if maybe, it-"

"I'll pay you," you interrupted quickly and he quirked an eyebrow and leaned closer.

"How much?" he whispered curiously.

"Twenty?"

"Make it 100 and you've got yourself a deal. I'll do it and you can pay me later at your convenience. Now excuse me, but I have some business elsewhere."

He hurried off and there was no further word until one early morning you came into the kitchen as Robert was dressing his toast and brewing coffee, and you were surprised to see a bouquet of long stemmed red roses on the table. Naturally, you looked to him as his habit of flower gifting was infamous, but he was staring just as confounded as you were. He seemed positively rattled, in fact.

"Did you...?" he asked and you echoed that same question.

"Did you?"

"No, I haven't been flower picking as of late," he replied dryly with a taut closed smile and then it dawned on you. Could it be from the mystery date you'd sent Feynman to set up?

"I'll put them in the living room, shall I? They'll get the strong afternoon light that will illuminate their velvety rouge petals," you expressed and he nodded emotionlessly, turning back to the toast and grabbing the pot of coffee.

Once you were alone in the lounge, you carefully inspected the flowers; they were beautiful and fairly fresh, only one or two were curling at the tips from the heat and as you held it up to admire, there was a small square piece of paper taped on the bottom of the skinny glass vase: It was a thin note, reading of a scrambled code of some sorts. You smirked, knowing it had to be Feynman who did this; he was always writing letters in code to his ailing sweetheart stuck in Albuquerque.

"Y/N, have you seen my badge? It's gone missing!" Robert called anxiously from the kitchen and you quickly tore the note off the bottom and tucked it into your pajamas.

"You probably left it on the dresser," you called back to him absentmindedly.

Once he left for the day, you sat down and worked to crack the code, which wasn't terribly hard considering it was predictable; boiling down to an address, date and time. You'd hoped for a name of the mystery gentleman, but didn't seem to get one.

That evening, you dressed in one of your finest silk dresses, red in color as the roses, and made your way to the bachelor's dormitory on the other side of town. You technically weren't allowed to be transversing around here, especially at this hour, and you cringed at a couple of catcalling whistles from young drunken men loitering outside. You ignored them, hurrying up the stairs to the mystery man's dorm and knocked once. The door opened, almost cautiously, and a decent looking young man stood there, his short brunette hair combed back and he wore a well pressed suit but with a blue tie slightly out of alignment.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he greeted in a pleasant voice and you automatically blushed, staring into his eyes which were a very watered-down literation of Robert's own blues; if his were the ocean, this man's were a lake on a grey skied afternoon and it made you feel a tad sad about doing this. Of course no man's eyes could ever quite compare.

"Hello...?" you trailed off, needing a name to this blind date of yours.

"My name is Anthony, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

"Pleasure to meet you and please, that makes me sound old and tethered. Just call me Y/N."

He nodded, stepping aside and you went inside, closing the door behind you as you surveyed the somewhat neat living quarters consisting of basic furniture and scattered paperwork and magazines.

"I apologize if this is rather awkward, but I take it Richard gave you the details?"

"More or less," Anthony answered and the way he was ogling at you wasn't so much like piece of meat, but out of respect and disbelief that he had actually had a date with the wife of the top dog scientific director of Los Alamos.

"Would you care for a drink? I just have, uh, scotch if that's alright. Probably different from what you're used to," he murmured the last part and you assured him quickly it was alright.

"Yes I would, thank you."

He handed a half filled glass to you gently and you noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

"You don't have to be nervous, I'm really not all that remarkable. I may have my husband's name, but I'm certainly not him, you know. We all bask in the long reaching shade of Oppie, don't we?"

"Right, of course," he chuckled, offering you a seat on the sofa and taking a sip of his own, regarding you impressively.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" you asked tenderly and he shrugged, still rather timid.

"I was dating a girl back in college but we broke off right before I signed onto the project."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four," he answered.

"Good, not younger than me; I suppose we are perhaps compatible then in that respect. You don't need to hear my life story, but I was a year in studying medicine at Stanford until this and now I suppose I'm just another housewife at the moment." You sighed, taking a small sip and nodding at him pleasantly.

"So what do you do here, generally? I take it you aren't one of the boys in Oppie's so-called cult?"

"No, I'm an engineer actually. I work in one of the labs, hands on, none of that theoretical bunch."

You nodded approvingly and there was a lapse of silence until he gestured with his glass, sloshing the liquid slightly.

"So I take it you're quite unhappy with... with Dr. Oppenheimer if you wanted to meet with another man?" he asked cautiously, disguising excitement.

"No questions, if you don't mind. I'm not here to talk about him," you replied seriously and he nodded fervently, setting the drink down on the side table.

"Yes, right. I apologize. I guess that doesn't leave much formalities then." He paused, swiping his tongue across his lips.

"I'd like to kiss you if that's not rushing too much," he proposed politely, but with a tone of urgency.

"Go right ahead." You braced as he leaned in, inches from your lips and you shared air for a second before he plunged forward, groping your mouth fast and lightly. But it felt all so wrong. You lightly pulled back, his hands not even holding your face like Robert always did so there wasn't much real intimacy, and glanced to the floor self consciously.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," you murmured guiltily. Maybe it wasn't even your conscience; maybe he just wasn't the right guy.

"But I thought you wanted it...?" Anthony's brows furrowed in hurt confusion and offense, so you quickly backpedaled.

"Not here, we can't do anything here. How about... Do you want to come over to my home?" you blurted out abruptly and he swallowed.

"But is-isn't your husband home?"

"That's the point."

Gathering courage for the both of you, Anthony then stood and took your hand to walk you to the door, leading you out down to the street level and the two of you walked all the way to Bathtub Row together. You could tell he was in awe of these homes that were larger and much better constructed.

"So this is how the other side lives." Anthony gave a low whistle and you laughed, bumping his side gently.

"Don't worry. We use the same water, electricity, and plumbing as you do, it's just a little more glamorous and I promise you anyone living in Los Alamos to work on the project is not substandard or lower class, even if the military may be rather degrading at times. It's all just a socially constructed hierarchy."

He squeezed your waist affectionately and you led him to the house, telling him to wait by the shrubs as you walked around to peer into the windows to see if Robert was still up, which you'd be surprised if he wasn't, and indeed he was: reclining in an armchair by the fireplace, reading and puffing on his pipe.

You signaled to Anthony to come closer and he crossed the yard to stand by the side of the house, appearing wary. He mouthed 'do you see him?' and you nodded, turning your back to the window and beckoned to him to move close. He carefully did so until he was a few inches from your face and you swallowed at the intimacy, the daring nerve to kiss a man right in front of the windowpanes where your husband sat in the living room.

"Kiss me, but passionately this time, no holding back. Just pretend it's only the two of us, okay?" you whispered and he breathed in, parting lips.

"Is this a dream?" he whispered and you giggled lightly, straddling his body and cupping the back of his neck, hairs bristling your fingers.

"Only if you want it to be, but no telling anyone when you wake up, understand?"

"No one would believe me... I feel as though I'm about to commit a great sin against the Oppenheimer unity, I can't believe I'm going to do this," he admitted with a dark chuckle.

"I can," you breathed and before you knew it, his lips connected to yours and the kiss was actually amazingly passionate indeed for two people who just personally met tonight. You breathed in his musky scent and intertwined tongues, smooshing noses and you felt him push you up against the window, arms embracing you whole and you secretly hoped it would eventually catch Robert's attention. Your intention was just one full kiss, but now this man had you, he seemed reluctant to let go as you began to lean back from his mouth, head lightly conking against the window. Anthony groped your breasts hungrily and you felt his hard-on pressing against your thigh as your bodies rubbed, the kissing becoming sloppier and for a moment, you completely forgot what you'd done this for. A faint yell came from somewhere and Anthony grew more attached, tightening his grasp on your frame, kissing harder and you started to feel a slight wetness in your panties.

"Stop! Get off of her! Please, that's my wife!" Robert's voice called in audible distress and you realized this must look a lot worse than it was, and you had to admit this man was getting a bit rougher as his more primal desire came to fruition and you grunted, turning your head and trying to wriggle out from underneath his locking embrace.

"That's enough, enough," you murmured anxiously, but he wasn't stopping.

"You said this could be my dream, can't ya let me finish first?" Anthony growled in your ear, but you were done, having successfully alarmed your husband. This wasn't meant to go further and quite frankly, you were unnerved how quickly it had escalated. He wasn't quite the shy gentleman scientist anymore once he was aroused, but you supposed these types of adventures did bring out the animalistic behavior in most after all.

Simple souls, Robert had said once of human beings.

Unfortunately, he was now witness to such a 'simple man' about to take you right on the windows of his stone and log cabin style house.

"STOP THAT NOW!" Robert yelled off to the right and you felt Anthony being forcefully tugged away, his arm flailing out and trying to grasp, catching your hair and you winced as he accidentally yanked painfully.

You were suddenly released and you gasped, sidestepping and watching in shock as Robert tried to jump on the man, his belt removed from his waist and gripped tightly in his hands as he wrestled it aggressively around Anthony's neck, constricting with enough force to make him gag and choke.

"Robert, no!" you shouted, rushing forward and attempting to pull him away, but it was as if he were deaf to the wind.

"I demand you to LEAVE my property at once and to NEVER see my wife, or this won't end on civilized terms," he threatened loudly and you'd never seen such a fire in his piercing eyes before. It intrigued and frightened you, considering he was not a brute in any sense. Anthony pleaded through his choking, whimpering pathetically, until Robert finally backed off, snapping the belt and huffing.

The other man stumbled up to his feet and held up his hands in surrender as Robert squinted in the dark, trying to fully identify him.

"I'm terribly apologetic Dr. Oppenheimer, sir, I won't bother you or the Mrs. anymore, I'll be right on my way!"

Anthony ran like a bat out of hell from the property and once it was silent, Robert turned to you with heavy breaths, the belt hanging limply at his side. You took one look and then rushed inside in the house, kicking off your heels in the hallway and dashing into the bedroom, slamming the door, heart pounding a sprint.

Moments later, you heard his clodding footsteps and anxious voice calling out desperately, the door bursting open.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?" he gasped as you shrunk away from him, still feeling Anthony's hands all over you and the whole guilt imploded, resulting in a sudden overflow of tears.

"Fuck, Robert! It's all my fault, I told Richard Feynman to set us up and I told Anthony to come here as a show to make you jealous and it advanced, I promise he meant no harm, we just wanted-"

"You did this on purpose?" he interrupted, betrayal lighting his features and you wiped messily at the tears streaming down your own.

"Yes! I kissed him on purpose! I wanted to spite you, I'm sorry but I cannot handle this anymore! I wanted to hurt and infuriate you like you do to me with your blatant love of other women! I bribed Richard $100 for a date with a single scientist, I didn't know what I'd get, but I'm glad you saw us together, it is only fair when I have to read love letters to past girlfriends... or are they just current 'friends'?!"

His mouth gaped and the frown lines appeared, creasing his forehead in prudent anger.

"The audacity... I suppose I indeed underestimated you, my sweet Aphrodite," he said lowly, voice a low rumble and despite everything you actually felt a shiver of arousal in your core.

In two strides, he met you at the foot of the bed, grabbing your head in a vice and in a bizarrely dominant twist, pinned you down to the bed, trapping you underneath him and yet you saw the uncertainty flicker. He was pretending to be so dominant, but couldn't take the reins fully.

Oh, Oppie.

"Roll over," you ordered sharply and he did, collapsing onto his back as you unbuttoned his pants and yanked them down hastily, staring at his cock straining against his boxers. You placed your palm on it, teasing him and he moaned softly, shaking his head at the deviousness on your face.

"No, please. Please, let me out, please don't do this, please..."

Begging. He was actually begging. After he just had attacked a man outside and was reeling from your confession, he was here at an embarrassingly burgeoning erection.

"I'm so close that I don't need you inside me, but I think you need a bit more help, is that right?" you whispered condescendingly and he gulped, eyes wide dilated marbles.

"I'm sorry about all of it, I never meant t-to-" he sputtered off as you clapped a hand to his mouth and you straddled his body, legs quivering with anticipation.

His penis grew harder and a clear wet stain bled through the fabric, causing him to squirm underneath you and you smiled, bumping up and grinding against clothed erection. You yelped at the sudden rush of internal pleasure and his hands gripped your dress at the hips, gasping along with your heaves and whines, but he himself was yet to peak. He seemed mortified as you then sat back and placed firm hands down on his crotch, holding his bulge tightly. He groaned, mortified as you wouldn't let him go, and after stretching him out to his limits for too long, a single squeeze brought him to a full climax, absolutely soaking his boxers and he threw his head back on the pillow, reveling in the orgasm.

Panting, you climbed off him and he weakly sat up, holding out a hand with the other on his wet crotch in sheer humiliation. You left the bed, gathering your appearance and catching breath.

"No, don't... Don't leave," he requested desperately from his spot on the bed and you shook your head, tousling hair as you glanced over at him.

"Clean up your own mess, darling," you told him firmly, a metaphor as much as a literal one.

He sighed, swinging legs off the bed and hobbling off to the bathroom as you began to undress, slipping out of the dress and into a bedtime robe.

He came back in, clean but utterly naked, and his dick was still dripping a smidge at the tip.

"You very much ruined a good pair of my underwear," he complained and you merely shrugged, patting the bed as you crawled in and he joined, scooting under the sheets and pulling you close, resting his forehead at yours, speaking in a mutter.

"You just had to stoop low with that male 'catch' of yours, didn't you?"

"That's not very nice, darling. Anthony seemed like a nice man and he's an engineer, I'll have you know."

"He isn't a third of the man I am."

"No one is you, Robert. That's why I went to another man in the first place."

"I truly wanted to suffocate the life out of him, I would have maimed him quite seriously had I lacked control. I haven't thought of doing such a terrible action since my Cambridge episodes, my terrible fits of jealousy... I suppose I expressed protection over you," he mused grimly.

"It's the thought that counts," you commented darkly.

"I can be so impulsive and erratic... You and everyone knows quite well how I was going to poison my tutor; I had injected potassium cyanide in the body of that innocent apple and left it on his desk..."

You remembered it had been Jean who had offhandedly first mentioned this story to you and she had assured you it was only because he was going through a very difficult phase in his life and actually all he needed to feel fulfilled was to just "get laid" as she aptly put it. Funnily enough, 'getting laid' was the least of Robert's problems now.

He took your hand at the moment and grasped too hard, squeezing your fingers, leaning towards you anxiously and speaking urgently.

"Listen, and I mean this very much: Don't ever see another man, I don't think I can do this again without gravely spraining my heart."

"And your enormous ego," you added the obvious with a small smile and he returned it, also giving you a light kiss on the cheek and cuddling in close.

"I love you," he offered gently and you shot him a glance, unable to hide the blushing smirk.

"Touché."

[arece]

Reader dies instead of John fucking load on the angst

Remember Me

♤ Summary: What if you died instead?

♤ a/n: THIS ISN'T CANNON!!! A what if that I personally think is even more painful than the original. I find it concerning how I find angst so much easier to write. This is a long one (2.2k) The masterlist

♤ Warnings: ANGST! John Wick violence, death.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

“Please, stop this.”

“I can’t.”

***

You begged him, followed him, did everything you could to try and stop him from doing this but it didn’t matter. Forever stubborn, a trait you no doubt got from him. Many mannerisms you had came from John. From the glower you do unconsciously to your dry humor.

But that all didn’t matter, not anymore. John had a plan, one where he might not make it out alive but the Marquis would go down with him, one where you’d be free in a way he was never able to attain. This was for you, he’d do anything for you.

“Fire!” He shoots just as Caine does. They both miss. He hears your whimper from beside Winston and it takes everything in him not to flinch back from the sound. He can feel the blood dripping down from the graze on his arm, a patch of red blooming from his white shirt. 

The Harbinger calls them back twenty paces. He takes a breath, a quick glance to see the almost agonizing worry painted on your face. For you. “Fire!” It felt much faster this time, it was. It had to be realistic, like they were planning to kill each other.

The growing pain in his left shoulder knocks him back a step but otherwise he doesn’t react. Caine grunts, slightly hunched over and holding at his side. Painful yet not fatal, they took another ten paces and it was time.

“Those who cling to death, live.” A bittersweet truth he clung to until there was you. Caine gives a barely visible nod, “Those who cling to life, die.”

“Fire!”

The shot to his stomach winds him to the point he falls to his knees. It won’t kill him, a few inches upwards and would have, he wouldn’t reveal that just yet. You cry out and Winston nearly has to hold you back. He has to close his eyes, tempted to tell you he was fine but he can’t show his hand. He wasn’t done yet, he had to win.

“¡Alto!” Vincent eagerly calls out. I claim the last shot.” He grabs a bullet before storming up to Caine with a sick sort of glee. “Your weapon, give it to me,” he demands, holding his hand out. “Is my daughter free now?” He carefully asks.

Caine’s part of the deal is fulfilled, he and his daughter were now free like you’d both soon be. “Oui. You and your daughter, enjoy.” He rips the gun from Caine and quickly reloads it. “You lose,” he confidently calls out before being cut off by Winston’s mocking laugh.

“You arrogant asshole. He didn’t shoot.” Vincent snaps over to John but it’s already too late. “Consequences,” he spitefully said before shooting him straight in the head. It was all over, he finally ended it all.

You’d be safe, he could be with you, that is if you forgave him for leaving you behind. He was aware it was his fault, that it was something he should’ve never done, but at the time he felt it was the only thing he could do to keep you safe. After two years, he finally got you back.

“John,” a soft whimper behind him. He looks up to see you holding your stomach, a few inches upwards. The Marquis’ gun went off, hitting you as collateral. You nearly fell back until Winston grabbed ahold of you.

Caine stepped back, The Harbinger leaving, it was not the time to finalize the terms. “No.” John feels nearly hysterical as he clumsily makes his way to you, dragging you from Winston into his arms. It felt like he wasn’t even there, this wasn’t real.

He pushes down on your wound, desperate for it to go away. You cry out from the pain, “I know, I know. I got you, kid.” Winston has to turn away, tearing up at the sight of just how fragile you looked.

John felt himself growing frantic, nearly losing himself already at the idea of losing you. He tries to gather you into his arms, just like that time you were sick. Just like that time, you’d be fine. He was overreacting, the Doctor would tell him it’s something minor. It won’t be like his Helen.

But you stop him, crying quietly now as you hold tightly to his hand on your stomach, “you’re free now?” You ask in an uncharacteristically small voice that has him nearly sobbing. “Yeah,” he brushes your hair back just like every time he’s done before.

It was foolish, you know, but you just wanted him to comfort you one last time, “you’re not going anywhere?” John slightly chokes, pulling you closer, as if holding you to him and refusing to let you go would keep you here. “You and me, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I missed you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you cuddled into him like you did whenever you had a nightmare. It was almost enough to convince John that’s what this was, you were just sleeping. But the lack of your chest rising and the soothing sound of your breaths had him finally breaking down.

No matter how hard he tried to do right by you he failed, every time. He did all of this to save you, left you for two years to protect you, reunited with you, only for you to die. You had begged him to stop, gave him so many opportunities to put down his gun and just live for you and he refused. His never ending need for revenge killed you, he killed you.

The background was a blur, he couldn’t hear anything, focused on solely rocking you back and forth, pushing your hair back every time it fell into your face. He ignored the blood he smeared on your face as he brought your head closer - your blood - and kissed your head softly.

You. His daughter, his kid, his baby. He missed you too, there was never a moment he didn’t, even now he missed you more than anything. Winston tried to step closed and he held out your knife threateningly. He didn't care, no one got near you right now except for him.

“Johnathan,” He calls out softly, red rimmed eyes of his own. “The first time I saw her in two years and she’s already gone.” He didn’t bother looking up, trailing a finger over your cheek that was already growing cold.

“I missed so much and it’s my own fault,” he glances up at Winston, “I’ll never get that time back.” He gathered you close and stood, he was going to bring you home and you were never going to leave again.

He nods for his jacket and Winston drapes it over you, covering your fatal wound just like he wanted. You were sleeping. It hit him suddenly that he never told you he loved you and it was almost enough to send him back to the ground.

He should’ve just done what you had asked, whatever you wanted. He held you securely with Winston by his side, both ready to bring you back. 

***

(y/n) Wick

Loving daughter

“You and me, kid.”

Something you’d probably scoff at but it felt right. Dog refused to move from your grave and John had half the mind to stay with her. Even the Bowery King had shed a few tears, having to leave soon after due to not being able to handle the emotions.

“Always said he was dramatic,” he could almost swear he heard you say. You were next to Helen, a little family he wanted to join. He didn’t know what to do without you, lost in a way he’s never been before.

Losing a child is a pain you never get over, a gaping hole that never fills. He was angry but had no one left to blame, no enemies to kill. For once, John was forced to sit and deal with his grief and god if it wasn’t the most painful thing he’s ever felt.

He carried so much guilt and regret for what happened between you, so many mistakes he’d never be able to go back and fix. Winston’s reassurance of how much you had loved him didn’t help.

You admired and loved a monster, both John Wick and the Baba Yaga. It had gotten you killed. Everything John Wick loves dies. You were doomed from the moment he accepted that coin, the moment he placed his jacket over you in that car and decided he would do anything for you.

He felt that he cried out everything he had left, numb besides the anger he held towards himself. This was his own doing. Eventually he forced himself and Dog to go to your apartment, the place you lived when John forced you out of your home.

It felt empty - lonely. It was enough to break his heart all over again, he drove you to this. He collected the few photos of yourself in the apartment, his own only of your younger years. He couldn’t stand the thought of the last image he had of you being older was dying in his arms.

 As he brushed over your belongings he came across a small box. He opened it to see a bunch of folded up papers held down by a gold coin. A gold coin he recognized, the coin that led him to you, to your death. He picked it up and was tempted to throw it away before pocketing it. He’d keep any part of you he could get, even if it reminded him of his mistakes.

He picked up one of the folded papers; a letter dated back to a few days after he left you. 

John,

I don’t think I could ever forgive you. I trusted you. 

I never believed that I could belong anywhere, everyone seemed to leave eventually.

I knew that day would come with you, I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

He swallowed, skimming through the letters, varying emotions of resentment, hurt, and confusion in each. It was painful, but one John wholeheartedly deserved. He may have been what you wanted but he wasn’t what you deserved, you deserved more.

He reached the last letter in the pile, it was written just a week before you hunted him down, a week and a few days before you died.

John,

I think I get it now. Though it doesn’t make it hurt less, I at least know now that you did care. You wanted me to be safe but what you seemed to never understand is that I felt safest with you.

All I wanted was you. I’ll always carry that hurt for the potential what could’ve been but I can cherish the time we did have together, when I had someone who cared for me so deeply.

I hunted down the Continental Doctor to trade for that coin you gave him - something to remember you by - and he gave it to me for free. I think he understood.

Everyone seemed to do that better than us. We always struggled to actually talk to each other, resorting to desperate actions. Maybe that’s what led us here today.

I hope you find that peace and freedom you always longed for, the kind you couldn’t get with me. That’s part of the reason I think we would’ve never worked, all I brought was chaos and pain, something you never needed more of, what you were trying to escape. For that I’m sorry.

Now, I’ll try to fix our mistakes, learn from them and speak openly. I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to send these to you but if you do find them I hope you know that I love you. 

I love you and thank you for being the dad I never got. Even if it was for a short time.

Love,

Your daughter.

John fell down onto your chair, crying so hard he couldn’t make out the words on the letter. He held it away from him, scared he’d stain it with his tears.

You got to heal but for the wrong reasons, without his apology and the full knowledge of his love for you. You were right, you both struggled with words and he should’ve tried harder. You always struggled feeling like you belonged and he didn’t do enough to reassure you.

He wished he could’ve told you just how much he cared for you, how much he loves you. How he’s sorry.

***

Although no matter what happened next it would never be fully happy; but if John were able to heal the slightest bit, accept, and move on, it would’ve been better. Though that’s never how John worked. He solely relied on his anger, looking for someone to blame, looking for a fight. Something he knew how to do.

He chose to direct his anger towards the entire High Table, to wipe them all out. Winston tried to fight him on this, convince him that it wouldn’t be what you wanted. But you weren’t here and you were gone because of the High Table and him. Either way they’d both go down for taking you away.

A suicide mission. But what else was there left to live for? He lost all that brought meaning to his life, he killed it, watched as it slipped through his fingers, helpless to stop it all. Helen, and now you.

He didn’t believe in much anymore but he hoped, hoped that when he did finally get to rest, it’d be with you.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

[parkermunson]

Picture Me

Summary: Peter Parker's shy in most things, until he's behind the camera. [1.6k words]

T/W: smut [18+ only, minors away!!], exhibitionism, f+m masturbation

A/N: My first Peter fic/smut! Tbh this can be any Peter you want, but I had Andrew's in mind while writing. As a photographer myself, I fell in love with Spider-Man's camera savviness, and clung to it since Tobey. Kinda upset we never saw that part of the character with Tom. Divider by @silkholland.

Tagging @corrodedcorpses for supporting this <3

Peter was different than any person you've ever dated. He was shy, timid, and extra sweet. He second-guessed himself often, even when you assured him he was perfect. The only time he never questioned himself was when he was behind his camera, snapping shot after shot of whatever caught his eye through the little lens. His confidence soared when you complimented the finished photos, boosting his self-esteem beyond comprehension. But when the camera was away, those self-esteem issues crept back in, clouding his brain in self-deprecating thoughts.

The two of you had only been dating a few short months, but your friendship had spanned years. All it took was one drunken night for feelings to be shared, and bodies to be explored, to change everything. Peter was by no means shy in the bedroom, but it was obvious he was holding back. The little things gave him away– the clenched fists during a particularly messy blowjob, or the lip bite when you slowed your bouncing on his cock. You tried everything to push him past that line, but it proved much more difficult than anticipated. He was simply afraid to let that side of him out. That's what caused the genius idea to hit you so hard it had your thighs clenching under the table over dinner.

Peter sat across from you, talking about his woes as a journalism photographer, trying to make ends meet on the bullshit excuse of pay. You're half-listening, half-drowning in the idea of Peter taking you over the table right now, throwing the dishes to the floor or letting them fall off the table with every hard thrust of his hips.

"I want you to photograph me," you interrupt. Peter glances up at you from his plate, pausing his movements.

"I've taken photos of you before," he replied, placing his fork down. He's confused, a bit worried even. You seem serious, and haven't been able to give your full attention to him since you sat down.

"I want you to photograph me... naked." The last word leaves your mouth in almost in a question. You're not sure that's what you even had in mind. But it's the first thing that came out.

Peter's mouth hangs open while you wait for an answer. He's not sure he heard you correctly. This can't be real. You can't be real. This was one of his biggest fantasies, to have your gorgeous body photographed by him, to have you captured on camera in your most intimate way. Of course, this fantasy always ended with a photo of your fucked out face covered in his cum hiding in his wallet. He'd print photos of your pussy swallowing his cock and keep them hidden by his bed for a lonely day. He'll even print a photo of your tits covered in deep purple hickies.

But how could he do that to you? You were delicate, unassuming. You weren't aware of his crime-fighting alter ego and you've never even gotten kinky in the bedroom. He didn't want to lose himself and accidentally reveal he was Spider-Man. You'd be at risk with that knowledge.

"Y/N... I don't know." He folded his hands in his lap and stared down at them, doing everything to avert from looking at you. You were silent, hurt from his answer. Why wouldn't he want this? Wouldn't anyone want the image of their partner naked? Did he not like that part of your relationship? Of you?

You stood from the table, and walked to the bedroom, making a point of grabbing his camera off the living room table on your way. Peter sat there frozen, his brain telling him not to follow, his cock twitching at the thought of you sitting naked next to his camera. His internal battle was halted when your sultry voice called his name from your room. "Peteeeerrrrr." It was almost like a moan and a demand at the same time. Your own personal mating call, just for him.

His legs were carrying him to your room before he even processed the action in his brain. You controlled him now. You sat cross-legged on the edge of your bed, smirking at his frame in the doorway. His camera perched next to you, waiting. He approached slowly, already looking wrecked without anything even happening. The idea was enough to send the man in a fit. You placed the camera in his hand gently, and sat up on your knees. "Direct me, Mr. Photographer." He looked dumbfounded, lost in his thoughts. "Peter... where do you want me?"

"Uh.. o-over here," he pointed half-heartedly to the corner with a chair and a light above. You smiled and reached out a hand to him, which he took to help you off the bed. Sauntering over to the chair, you made a show of wiggling your hips with each step. Peter was practically drooling already.

You sat down and looked up at him with wide eyes. It took a moment, but eventually he understood to start taking pictures. You began unbuttoning your jeans, making sure he got to see the pretty lace of your panties hiding beneath your pants. Sliding the jeans off your legs, you bent over, giving the camera a nice view of your cleavage over your low-cut top. You then moved onto removing your shirt, sliding it over your head so your hair bounced behind you.

Peter fell to his knees, wanting to be on the same level as you. He was snapping away on his camera, not missing a beat. In just your panties and bra, you turned on the chair, sitting on your knees with your back to him, glancing over your shoulder with mischievous eyes. You smiled as your reached around and unclipped your bra, holding the cups to your chest. The strap slipped from your shoulders. Snap. You slid the garment off your arms, covering your chest in one arm, and holding up the discarded bra in your other. Snap. Dropping the bra to the floor, you turn back to face him, still covering your chest. Snap. You drop your arm and lay it on the armrest of the chair, relishing in the confidence you possess. Snap.

A tent is starting to form in Peter's jeans, but he doesn't even notice. Not when a supermodel is stripping right in front of him, for him. You stand up, turning to face the wall so your back is to him. Your fingers play with the lace on your hips. Snap. You spread your legs slightly, bending over. Snap. The lace glides over your ass swiftly, revealing the soft skin beneath. Snap, snap, snap. Peter can smell your arousal with your ass directly in front him, inches from the lens of his camera. Your underwear pools at your feet and you kick it off toward your bra. You sit back on the chair and spread your legs. Snap. Peter's starting to notice the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans, pulling at the fabric for a better placement and immediately focusing his attention back on you.

You lick a long stripe up your palm and slide it between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clit. Snap. Your other hand pinches your nipple, pulling at it with a hiss. Peter moans behind the camera, losing control over his composure. You place a leg over the armrest and pull your other knee up so your heel rests directly on the edge, spreading yourself out so he has the best view in the house. Your fingers dance lower on your clit, playing with your entrance. Sliding a finger in to the first knuckle, then back out. One glance up to Peter and you instantly melt. He's palming himself over his jeans, his bottom lip pulled tightly under his teeth, and his camera held lazily at his side.

You stop your ministrations, "nah-uh. Keep shooting." He breaks from his trance, putting the camera back to his eye and snapping away. You insert one finger fully, your head falling back from the new sensation. Your other hand leaves your nipple and slides down to your clit, rubbing circles the same speed. The pleasure was good, but it wasn't enough. Inserting another finger, a loud moan leaves you, causing Peter's hand to reach back onto the tent in his jeans. He's still taking pictures one-handed, while palming himself. The visual causes your hands to speed up, throwing you closer to the edge. Peter unbottons his jeans and slides a hand in, his hips bucking at the touch of his fingers. The coil in your belly tightens when you realize how desperately he's watching you. Then you hear it, snap. You're sent over, your body convulsing against the chair, your breathing turned ragged as your eyes hit the back of your skull.

You're floating in that heavenly feeling until Peter's pulling your hands away. Snap. He zooms in on your fluids leaking from you, moaning at the sight. Snap. Then he's looking up at you with a devilish smile. "My turn."

[issuesdolly]

Jonathan Davis Protects You From Your Creepy Ex

Warning: Smut, foreplay, fingering, male/female sex, unprotected sex, p in v, finishing inside, edging. Mildly violent diaglogue (NOT IN A SEXUAL CONTEXT but in the dramatic context of the story where JD is confronting the ex-boyfriend).

#jonathandavis  #jonathan davis #korn #jon davis #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #fem reader #x reader #edging #edginganddenial #jondavis #romantic

Summary: You are Jonathan’s girlfriend. Your relationship has been going well for a long time. So far, it’s been you who has had to deal with jealousy/insecurity as so many people adore Jonathan. You & he trust each other, but for once, the shoe is on the other foot when your ex boyfriend reappears, trying to reconnect with you. Jonathan feels insecure and protective of you. You do your best to reassure Jonathan you didn’t intend to rekindle anything with your ex. At the same time, Jonathan spots your ex’s manipulative/stalkerish behavior before you do. Jon is not controlling of you, so he tries to stay out of it. When you and Jon realize your ex is aggressively creeping on you, you try to cut ties. Your ex won’t take a hint, so Jonathan has to step in.  

Preface: If you like pure NAUGHTY fanfics that get “straight to the point” (romance + sex with JD) feel free to check my others. I felt like there’s only so much I can do THOSE…I wanted to write something that includes more emotional/personal themes, although there’s DEFINITELY sex in this one haha. This fic was inspired by a moment in the Korn MTV Diary where JD talked about getting jealous/protective when his fiance got hit on/disrespected by a guy. My stories portray JD as super confident/sexy but in real life, he’s just a dude who can get insecure/protective of his girl as well. Wanted to explore that. This fanfic is also based on a true story from my life. Hope you enjoy it. 

Story: 

You and Jonathan are finishing dinner at one of your favorite out of the way Italian restaurants. He had reserved a private booth in the balcony wing, away from people so your dinner wasn’t disturbed. However, you knew when you went downstairs, some people were bound to spot Jonathan. Sure enough, as the two of you held hands and walked downstairs, some people spotted him out. You decided to take this moment to head to the bathroom and let him deal with the swarm.  

“I’ll be right back, sweetie, bathroom,” you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Ok, sorry about this,” Jon whispered to you, returning your kiss with a quick one on your lips. 

On your way back from the bathroom, you decided to hang back by the barstools instead of awkwardly standing next to him. You’d basically just be in the way as people tried to get their picture with him or have him sign something. Suddenly you felt a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, you couldn’t believe your eyes. It was your ex-boyfriend, Zane. 

“Zane? Is that you?” you said in shock.

“HI!!” Zane said, as his eyes lit up. 

He took a step towards you like he wanted a hug, but you took a step back. The two of you stood awkwardly smiling for a moment. 

“Wow, didn’t expect to see you here,” you blurted out. 

“Yeah! Didn’t expect to see you either! How are you?” Zane asked. 

“I’ve been good. You… you look so different!,” you admitted. During your relationship, Zane drank constantly and always looked run down. Currently, he looks far healthier. 

“Right? Well, I’ve been sober for the last year,” Zane boasted. 

“Oh man, I’m so happy to hear that. Seriously. Proud of you,” you said. 

“Thank you. I’m doing a LOT better,” Zane continued. “So you’re…. Still with Jonathan huh?” 

“You know about all that?” you asked, surprised. 

“Yeah, I mean…. I don’t follow his music. NOT my thing. But, your name and face pops up online with him enough that I- uh…. Took notice. Wow. Being with a celebrity. That must be a huge adjustment for you,” Zane said. 

“Yeah! It’s a lot. But he’s well worth it,” you state proudly.

You looked over at Jonathan as he stood awkwardly, trying to wrap up the schmoozing. Jonathan stole a glance at you. His big smile faded as he saw this guy standing rather close to you. Your smile faded also. It was like you could read his mind: “who the fuck is that standing with you?” 

Zane looked over at Jon with a shitty smirk on his face, before putting a hand on your shoulder. You turned back at Zane, surprised he just touched you. 

“Well! Good for you. I’m sure whenever you manage to get him to yourself, you guys have a nice time,” Zane said in a chastising manner. 

“Jon makes plenty of time for the two of us,” you retorted, while stepping away from Zane’s grasp. 

“You know, I’d love to catch up with you more sometime,” Zane said, boldly. 

Out of nowhere, you felt Jonathan standing next to you. Jon’s eyes bore into Zane as he stood there, wordlessly. 

“Jon! This is Zane, my uh…..” you said, trying to spit out the words “ex-boyfriend.” 

“Zane… yeah, I remember you mentioned a Zane….hello Zane…..” Jon said in a low, monotone voice. 

“Hey dude, nice to meet you,” Zane said, disingenuously. 

Jonathan just wordlessly nodded his head. Neither Jon, nor Zane outstretched a hand for a civil handshake. 

Jonathan hates fake “nice to meet you” pleasantries and fakeness in general. Instead, Jon stood still, head slightly tilted, with a dead face. He was staring HARD at Zane. Looking at your ex, Jonathan immediately recalled everything you had told him about Zane. Your 2-year relationship had been full of Zane manipulating and gaslighting you. When you and Jon discussed past relationships, it was definitely a topic that had made you break down crying. Jonathan had comforted you as you recalled the bad memories and reassured you he would NEVER treat you how Zane had. 

Jonathan was doing his BEST to be civil. However, it was hard for him to hold back anger, standing in front of the man who hurt you. You put your hand into Jonathan’s and Jon turned to face you. He could feel your palms were cold and sweaty. This situation was awkward for everyone involved. 

“Listen, we need to get going, but it was nice seeing you, Zane,” you said. 

“Yeah you too,” Zane said. 

You and Jonathan walked out of the restaurant. Jonathan, on his way out, stole a glance back at Zane. Zane gave Jon another shitty smirk and sly hand-wave goodbye. Jon’s eyes flared and he let out a huff/sniff, turning back around and heading out the door with you. 

The car ride back with Jonathan was damned awkward. You decided to break the silence by just confronting the situation head on: 

“Well that was really awkward. I’m sorry about that, Jon, I really didn’t expect to run into him” you said. 

“Yeah, I gotta say I always pictured him as a massive douche. He definitely lived up to my mental image,” Jon said quietly. 

“He’s sober now at least, so… hopefully he’s getting his life on track,” you said, trying to diffuse the conversation. 

Jonathan was silent, breathing angrily. Jon was baffled that after everything Zane had done to you, you cared about his well-being. He felt that you were WAY too forgiving. 

Eventually Jon broke the silence. “Yeah well, I get it, I was a mess before I got sober. But…. people can only change so much,” Jon said, reflecting. 

The two of you got home and went inside. You went into the kitchen. You had skipped dessert at the restaurant and felt like having some yogurt or something. You were taking your time browsing the fridge when Jonathan slowly walked up behind you. He gently wrapped his hands around your waist and cradled your stomach through your dress. You were kind of taken aback, since he had been huffy and distant on the ride home. He gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek and held you close. 

You gladly accepted his embrace. “Whatcha looking for?” Jon said as he kissed your cheek and neck. “Ummmm… just… a little dessert…” you said slowly, getting lost in the sexy sensation of his tender kisses. He wrapped you closer in his arms and started giving you a slow, open mouth kiss on the neck. You melted in his arms. He always knew he could seduce you easily if he started nibbling and licking your ears and neck. He left slow kisses on your neck and moved them down your shoulder, pulling the hem of your dress down slightly so he could kiss and lick more of your shoulder. 

“DAMN!” you blurted out, genuinely surprised that Jonathan had suddenly launched into all this. Jon pulled you into him more and pressed his front against your backside, giving you a tight embrace and grinding into you. You lost your balance slightly, getting immediately turned on. 

“What’s all THIS?” you asked, with genuine curiosity. Jon didn’t usually randomly attack you with kisses/seduction like this. 

“Mmmm, I don’t know, you just look beautiful. I had to come get you,” Jon said in a low, sexy voice. 

“My god… well… I guess dessert can wait,” you said while giggling. 

“I’ve got some dessert for you,” Jon said in a dirty voice, before reaching up your dress and sliding his hands under it until he reached your pussy. He took two fingers and started slowly, tenderly, rubbing your clit through your panties. You were going insane. You moaned and let him continue at this for several minutes while he slowly rocked you in his arms.

You slowly turned to face him. His eyes looked absolutely NEEDY and overwhelmed with lust. You leaned in for a big kiss and he immediately returned it, hungrily. He pushed you forward, slipping his tongue into your mouth. The two of you lost your balance against the fridge door, which was still standing wide open. You felt yourself start to fall against the fridge shelves. 

“Ahhh!! Shit!” you giggled, as Jonathan gripped you and stopped you from falling backwards.

Jonathan started laughing also, realizing how klutzy this moment was. 

“Let’s take this somewhere else,” Jon said with a smirk, pulling you away from the fridge. You shut the door and speed-walked to the bedroom together as he touched you all over along the way. 

When you reached the room, Jon quickly faced you, kissing you deeply and hungrily. He picked you up by the thighs and off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his torso and moaned into his mouth. He carried you to the bed and gently placed you down, kissing down your body and wasting no time reaching up under your dress and sliding your panties off. You watched him in awe, confused by his sudden mood shift. He crushed your panties in his hand and gave you the dirtiest smirk, taking a moment to push them against his face and smell them. You loved how freaky he was and you both giggled. He tossed the panties away and started planting kisses on your legs, working his way up your thighs. Jon slowly crawled on top of you. You held his hair and lay underneath him, wondering why he had suddenly decided to make love to you like this. 

The truth was, the incident at the restaurant had left him feeling insecure. Maybe a bit possessive. Seeing your ex touch you and try to reconnect left him feeling desperate to do SOMETHING to pamper and satisfy you. To remind you how much he still wants you and perhaps, to STOP you from even THINKING about your ex. 

Jon locked eyes with you as he slowly took his lips off your mouth.

 “Mmmm..tell me what you want, baby,” he said in a quiet, sexy voice. 

You giggled, “Ha! Uh- I mean, YOU started this. I don’t know!!” you said. 

“Hmmmm… well let’s start here,” Jon said in a low, sweet voice. He pushed a hand between your legs and gently parted them, reaching under your dress and gently rubbing/fingering you. You shut your eyes and moaned as he massaged and teased inside your pussy while giving you a long, deep, open mouth kiss. He moved his kisses to your neck and ears while fingering you, leaving you WEAK. You just lay there LOVING it. Jon kept this up for a good long time until you felt like you were already getting close to coming. Jon slowly removed his fingers from you. He locked eyes with you, smiling, before licking his fingers clean. Your eyes lit up and you gave him a huge smile and giggle as you watched him.  

Jon knelt next to your face and whispered “you always taste so fucking food,” right into your ear. You moaned and started grabbing his waist, parting your legs more for him. You’d had MORE than enough foreplay and you REALLY needed him to fuck you now. He quickly sat up, unbuckling his pants and taking them off along with his boxers and whipping his T-shirt off while you removed your dress. He quickly climbed back on top of you and immediately pushed into you as the two of you moaned. You noticed he was being unusually slow and tender with his movement tonight. Slow, sensual, delicious, pumps into you. This was not some quick, fun, aggressive fuck. He was REALLY determined to make love to you for a long time tonight. It felt amazing, and although you still wondered WHY, your mind was clouding over with pleasure. 

You moaned louder and louder as he took his time, slowly pushing deep into you and making you feel as good as possible. He kept kissing you all over while gradually letting his pumps pick up speed. Jon was driving you CRAZY as he continued licking and love biting your neck and ears. Your pussy was quivering and you knew you were going to come extremely hard, and SOON. Jonathan pumped harder and faster in response to you as your moans increased. You were getting so close. He let out a groan of pleasure watching you. Out of nowhere, he spoke. 

“Baby… mmfff… baby, look at me!” he whispered.

Your eyes had been shut with pleasure, but you opened them to look at him. His eyes stared hard into yours. You smiled at him weakly while moaning, your orgasm approaching. 

“I love you,” Jon whispered solemnly while stroking your hair and pumping into you. 

You were a bit taken aback. You knew he loved you. But him saying it so solemnly like this, DURING sex, was unusual. But you weren’t going to question it. 

“I love you too Jon!” you said with a hazy smile on your face as your orgasm approached. 

His big, expressive eyes lit up with love/lust and he kissed you hard one more time before pumping nice and hard into you. His dick pressed against just the right spot inside you. 

“Ahhhh!!!…..  Fuuuu!!!” you cried out. He felt SOOO good. You couldn’t handle it and started coming VERY hard. You let out a scream/moan and started shaking, holding his neck and gripping his hair as he ground his dick into you. He moaned against your neck and kept licking and kissing you while you came. This was DEFINITELY the best orgasm you had with him in recent times. You kept coming, shaking in his arms as he left his dick deep inside you, slowly moving it in and out, letting you ride your climax hard. As you slowly came down and caught your breath, he looked right into your eyes again, still inside you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful baby,” Jon complimented as he stroked your hair. “I love watching you cum….so pretty” he whispered. 

Again, you were taken aback. Him telling you all this DURING sex was a bit unusual. But again, you didn’t question it. 

“You- fu…..You’re….the sexiest fuckin man alive,” you complimented in return while giggling. “Holy shit, I came so hard,” you said, still trying to catch your breath. 

“Mmmmff… GOOD,” Jon said with a beaming smile. “My turn,” he said, losing his composure and moaning against you. You yelped and moaned loudly as Jon picked up speed again. He began fucking you with incredible intensity. Again, you were stunned. It was like he was REALLY hungry for you tonight. He made loud, honest, unrestrained noises. You just watched him in awe before shutting your eyes again. His orgasm hit him FAST and he moaned LOUDLY. You felt his cum spurt inside you with a good deal of force as he whimpered and gasped. You felt the warm gush of it start to slowly leak out of you as he kept coming. 

As he finally finished, he gently leaned into you and kept kissing you AGAIN. He was REALLY into kissing you tonight. After some slow, tender post-climax kissing, he finally climbed off of you and flopped next to you in bed…. totally spent. As you both caught your breath, he turned towards you, pulling your naked body tightly against him. You felt weak and exhausted in his arms. This had definitely been a “love making” session. Not some kind of playful fuck. 

Jon pushed your damp hair out of your face and stroked your forehead before saying AGAIN, “I LOVE you,” in a solemn whisper. 

“I love you too,” you whispered, earnestly. “So much,” you continued, while nuzzling his face. The two of you were so tired, you gradually fell asleep in that position, listening to one another breathe. 

The following day you woke up VERY groggy. You opened your eyes and saw Jon in a deep sleep next to you in bed. Plenty of light was shining into the room and you guessed the two of you had slept in until at least the afternoon. You slowly rolled over and grabbed your phone, sitting up in bed. Sure enough, it was 3pm. You two always stayed up most of the night and slept in (kindred vampires) but he definitely kept you up even longer last night. Groaning and wiping your eyes, you crawled out of bed and threw on a nightgown (you were still naked). You crawled back into bed to relax and started checking stuff on your phone.  Pushing your matted hair out of your face, you remembered last night. You definitely needed a shower. 

Though you try to not obsess over social media, it always ends up being the first thing you check. You opened Instagram, seeing the sweet likes/comments on a recent picture of you and Jonathan that you had shared. It wasn’t an ego thing necessarily but you loved seeing well-wishes from people. Next, you opened Facebook. The first thing you noticed was a friend request….. From Zane. You were quite shocked. You looked over at Jonathan, who was still sleeping naked. His upper body was exposed and the blankets covered his lower half.  He looked sexy, adorable and peaceful in his deep sleep. You remembered just how amazing last night was. 

Then, you looked back at your phone. So much time had passed since you had been with Zane. His profile pic had a woman standing next to him in a cute, couple’s pose. You figured he was in a relationship. Assuming both you and he had moved on and there would be no weirdness, curiosity killed the cat. You hit ‘accept’ and looked at his page. He had new photos of him from the gym, and several with this woman. Scrolling his feed, there were updates about his sobriety and kudos from friends/family. Pictures of him traveling and hiking with friends. It did make you happy to see his life had improved. Maybe you WERE too forgiving, but you didn’t like to hang on to hate/grudges. 

Jonathan was pretty damn allergic to social media for a variety of reasons. Mainly, he doesn’t stand for internet bullying or the narcissistic side of social media. He’s also very aware of internet stalking. Jon grudgingly holds a few promotional social media accounts, mostly run by his management team. As you were scrolling through Zane’s pictures, Jonathan stirred beside you. He opened his eyes and looked at you. The two of you exchanged sleepy smiles. You were about to close your phone, but Jonathan was surprisingly energetic and quick to sit up in bed. He leaned in and gave you a big kiss on the mouth, leaving you no time to get rid of what was on your phone screen. His kiss was surprisingly passionate and you got lost in it. As Jonathan let you out of the kiss he nuzzled against your shoulder, sleepily moving his gaze towards your phone. 

“Oh shit,” was the only thought running through your head. If you rushed to shut off your phone screen or change the page, this would look even worse. Cringing, you allowed Jon to notice what was on your screen. Jonathan’s sleepy gaze slowly turned to realization, noticing who/what you were looking at. Before Jon could say anything, you confessed “I opened Facebook and Zane sent a friend request.” Jonathan slowly took his face off your shoulder, exhaling and tightening up… his demeanor changed from elated to pissed. He scooted away from you in bed and folded his arms, pulling up the blankets to cover his body.

“And let me guess, you accepted it?” Jon asked in a quiet voice.

“I was curious, I’m sorry,” you admitted. 

“Curious how the dick who stole 2 years of your life is doing? Fair enough,” Jon continued in a quiet, cold voice. 

“A LOT of time has passed. He- he seems like he’s changed a lot. AND he’s in a new relationship too! It’s just fucking FACEBOOK. I add a lot of people. You know that,” you said, lamely trying to defend yourself. 

“I gotta tell you…. Guys don’t do this unless they want something,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. 

“Want something?” you replied. 

“Yeah, I could tell,” Jonathan continued. “I saw it right away when he stood next to you last night. He wants a shot with you again,” Jon said, staring hard into your eyes. 

“Well he’s not gonna GET one, jeez!” you replied, truthfully. 

“I’m going to be real. As a dude. Take it or leave it, mkay?” Jonathan said while facing you and putting his hands on your lap. “Guys don’t want to be ‘buddies’ with their ex. Guys don’t usually want to be ‘FRIENDS’ with women in general! If you give Zane an inch, he’s gonna take a mile and keep trying. And YOU? You’ve ALWAYS been too nice with this dickwad,” Jon said, his eyes darkening. 

“Ok! I get it! Damn…. You’ve got thirsty women chasing you all the time and I have to just accept it and trust you! I got a friend request from a dude who’s ancient history in my mind and you’re freaking out?” you said, trying to brush off Jonathan’s concerns.  

Jon shook his head. He DID try to catch himself, realizing the hypocrisy of all of this. There’d been countless uncomfortable situations where Jonathan had to brush off attention from women. He knew how much trust it must take for you to be with him and not feel jealous/insecure. Jonathan slowly exhaled, shaking his head. 

“Yeah…. I hear you. It’s fucking ridiculous, me saying this. I trust you. You trust me…. I’m sorry…” Jonathan said, trying to cool off. 

There was heavy silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a knife. Jonathan eventually broke the silence: 

“I trust you. But… I don’t trust him,” Jon said. He turned to face you in bed again and you looked back into your eyes with concern. “AND, if he’s as into you as I THINK he still is, he’s probably going to message you… And if he’s as possessive as he WAS with you, he may even web-stalk you a bit,” Jonathan said in a serious tone. 

You sighed and shook your head, climbing out of bed. You didn’t know what to think about this side of Jonathan. The hypocrisy was pretty epic. You had to share him with the world and now he had this paranoid concern about ONE person. However, you thought about what he said. You HOPED he was wrong. You took a shower. Usually Jon would join you but he was still being cold. He just threw on some pajamas, and decided to brood in bed, watched TV, ignoring you. After your shower you got some food and climbed back into bed with him, hoping to cuddle up and watch something together. However, Jon was rigid, not thrilled to have you touching him. He didn't even break his gaze from the tv, as he stared at it looking pissed. You knew why. This Zane thing was still bothering the hell out of him. You decided to just take the hint and let him cool off. 

The atmosphere at home was now tense and depressing. You and Jon rarely have times like this where one of you truly doesn’t want to be around the other. But you could FEEL that Jonathan didn’t want to be around you right now. You couldn’t even IMAGINE what thoughts were going on in his head. This situation had never come up before. It was always Jonathan proving himself loyal to you after getting tested by various situations. Now, you could tell he was insecure, pissed and maybe even jealous. You decided to drive to a cafe and clear your head. Sitting down with your drink, you opened your phone, figuring you’ll text your best friend about this situation and ask for her advice. As you were doing that, your Facebook dinged with a message notification. It was Zane. You stomach dropped. 

Zane: “I’m glad to see you accepted my request! Like I said, I’d love to catch up.” 

You: “Yeah I’m glad to see you doing so well. I’m a bit busy at the moment though. Just out at a cafe.” 

Your aim was to try to end the conversation before it began. 

Zane: “Oh nice! Which cafe?” 

Reluctantly you replied: “The Starbucks on Oswell, St… they have the coziest atmosphere.”

Zane replied: “Oh yeah I’ve been there, that’s a good one. I’m actually nearby right now. Are you going to be hanging out there for a while?” 

You had a bad feeling…. It definitely sounded like he wanted to come join you. Your aim had been to hang out and read there for a few hours since the atmosphere at home with Jon SUCKED right now. You tried to craft a white lie so Zane didn’t come join you though. 

You replied: “Yeah  for awhile but I’m hanging with my friend, I promised her we’d catch up. Now isn't a good time, sorry.” 

Zane replied:  “Ah ok, but maybe we can hang out and catch up another time.” 

Your stomach dropped even more. Jon was right. He had immediately messaged you and asked to see you. You were firmly regretting adding him. You closed your phone and picked up a book to try to clear your head. 

After a long time had passed, you heard the cafe door open. You couldn’t believe it… Zane walked in and scanned the room…. And then gave you a big smile and wave. You nervously returned his smile and wave thinking “OH shit,” while also being more than a little creeped out. He sat down without you inviting him to. 

“Hey! Where’s your friend?” Zane asked. 

“Um… she had to take off. I was just hanging out,” you replied, lying. 

“Well I’m glad I caught you. I know you said it wasn't the greatest time...but I really wanted to see you,” Zane said. 

You were really uncomfortable by now. And if things with Jon were tense before, telling him about THIS would really suck. 

“Well I’m sorry, but I was actually about to head home,” you told Zane. “Maybe… another time?” you said. 

“What’s the rush to get home? Does Jon give you a curfew or something?” Zane said in an offensive tone. You REALLY didn’t like Zane badmouthing Jon’s character or implying that you are his lapdog. You tried to keep it civil. 

“I’m just hungry. I want to get back and have dinner with him,” you replied. 

“Ah.. does he make you cook it?” Zane said, continuing his aggressive, sarcastic questions. 

You were getting REALLY irritated and uncomfortable now. You just stared at Zane in amazement. 

“Tell you what, I’ll take you out to dinner and we can catch up. If Jon whines about it, you can blame me,” Zane said in a naughty tone. 

You were taken aback and felt your chest tighten. 

“Zane, aren’t you WITH someone?” you asked, inquiring about the women on his facebook. 

“Oh THAT, nah that’s over. I just haven’t taken down the pics yet. But seriously, I’d love to take you to dinner! Maybe a night away from Jon is just what you need! Come back to NORMAL life for a bit, see where that takes us, hmm???” Zane said in a flirty, aggressive tone. 

You realized now that you had to be blunt: 

“Zane, I’ve gotta be honest. You popping up like this has caused an issue between me and Jon. I’d appreciate it if you backed off,” you admitted. 

Zane looked PISSED but he tried to play it cool. 

“Oh, my bad. I didn’t realize he was that insecure…. But… what can you expect from a man who wears skirts? Alrighty. Well… I’m around if you wanna talk and hang, ok?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea… sorry,” you said, pissed off and eager to get away from Zane without responding to more of his taunts. You hurried out of the cafe and got in your car. 

Your hands were shaking on the drive back. When you got home, Jonathan was on the living room couch literally just staring at the wall. You walked in, flustered and shaken. Slowly entering the living room, you were perplexed seeing Jon just sitting there, catatonic. He looked up at you with a very lost expression. 

“Jon? Are you okay?” you asked, genuinely concerned. 

“Uh…. yeah. YEAH I’m ok,” Jon said (lying). The truth was, Jon had been sitting on the couch reflecting hard on what it might feel like to lose you if you reciprocated any of Zane’s feelings or attempts to reconnect. He couldn’t get it out of his head. At the same time, Jon had been sitting there feeling guilty for being so hard on you, knowing full well it’s hypocritical given the amount of attention he gets that YOU have to put up with. 

Jonathan focused his gaze on you. He knew immediately you weren’t okay either. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look scared or something. Was it me? I- I .. I’m sorry for acting so cold earlier… you didn’t deserve that,” Jon continued, getting off the couch and walking up to you to give you a hug. You couldn’t get any words out. You just let Jon hug you. Holding each other tightly, you both wanted to cry… but were not ready to admit all the reasons why.

As you held each other, all you could think was “I don’t want to lose his trust!” 

As he held you all Jon could think was “I don’t want to lose her.”  

As Jon slowly let you out of the hug, he looked at your eyes and could tell something was still wrong. 

“Seriously, are you ok?” Jon asked, concerned. You decided you HAD to tell him what just happened. 

“Well…. No. Jon, you were right. I went out to a cafe just to give you some space. And Zane messaged me right away like you said he might. I made the mistake of saying I was out… and he fucking showed up where I was, even after I said I was busy,” you admitted. 

Jon’s eyes darkened and his face sank. He let out an enraged sniff and took some quick steps away from you while shaking his head and gripping his hair, nervously tugging on it. He started rapidly pacing around the room and breathing faster. 

“I TOLD HIM I DIDN’T WANT HIM TO MEET ME. I told him he was causing problems for us. He- he was REALLY persistent. It took me by surprise. I’m SO sorry,” you said, half in tears. 

Jon paced some more while tugging harder on his hair and breathing faster. He put his hands on his hips and looked at you.

“MAN, that little FUCKER doesn’t waste ANY time, did he?” Jon said. 

“I really didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you said apologetically. “But I was VERY blunt with him now, Jon! I told him he needs to back off!” 

Jon stood still, hands on his hips, still breathing hard and looking like he wanted to kick something. He wasn’t mad at you, necessarily. At least, he was trying not to be. But he WAS feeling like this guy was getting predatory…. Jon thought carefully before speaking again. 

“HOW did he just SHOW UP where you were? Tell me HONESTLY” Jon asked, with a very angry expression. 

“I made the mistake of saying which cafe it was in a text, after he kinda pried about where I was,” you told him, truthfully. 

“AFTER you said you were busy and didn’t want to meet him? And he STILL tracked down the address and showed up to the cafe?” Jon demanded, with his eyes BORING into yours. 

“YES,” you told Jon truthfully. 

Jon looked furious and ready to cry at the same time. “Is that REALLY how it went down??? Hmm?? He just TRACKED you down, you didn’t ask to see him??? TRUTH!” Jon demanded. 

“YES JON!!!! Read the fucking texts if you want!” you cried, pushing your phone forward towards him and stepping across the room next to him. 

Jon slumped his head forward and just stared at the ground, wincing his eyes and shaking his head at his own behavior. There was awkward silence as you left your phone outstretched waiting for him to look.  He looked back up at you, with an expression on his face like he was ready to cry. 

“I’m not gonna do that to you. I’m not gonna go through your fucking phone. I believe you, baby. I trust you,” Jon said, truthfully. You threw your phone onto the couch and rushed towards him, wrapping your arms around him in a big hug. Jon was rigid at first, not hugging you back, but within a few seconds, broke down crying and returned your hug. The two of you just held each other for a few minutes. 

You slowly let go of him. You looked at his eyes and he was trying to clear his throat and stop snuffling. You touched his face. “PLEASE. You have nothing to worry about. I hate him right now more than EVER. He was SO rude today! I’m NEVER going back to him, OK?” you said. Jon slowly nodded. He touched your face and stroked your hair. He looked at you lovingly and began feeling more protective than anything else. He realized whatever interaction you had with Zane had left you shaken up.  

Jon slowly exhaled and composed himself before speaking again: 

“I’m not gonna fucking tell you what to do about him. But…If he was aggressive enough to track you down at the cafe, I think you better take him off Facebook. He’s DEFINITELY going to keep messaging you and trying shit. And all that location tagging bullshit on those apps gives him a lot of chances to figure out where you are. Baby, he’s pushing HARD,” Jon warned. 

You sighed. The thought that Zane might actually be STALKING you seemed over the top. You hoped Jon was just being paranoid. You also had hoped Zane took the hint loud and clear at the cafe. You weren’t sure what to say. 

“I was really clear with him, Jon. I don’t think he’ll bother me again. If he does I’ll block him, ok?”

Jon didn’t like that answer, but he respected you and accepted it. “Ok. But be careful. I love you. I’m sorry … really fucking sorry for how I’ve been acting, baby,” he said, holding you again. 

–

The following night you and Jon went out to a restaurant/music hall. You were trying to get back on track and enjoy yourselves. The evening was going really well and after your meal you slow danced with him to some live music. The two of you held each other tight, and as you danced, Jon just stared at your eyes before giving you a big kiss. He nuzzled his face against your ear and said, “I’m a very lucky man,” over the music. Then, he held you tighter and you rested your head on his shoulder as the two of you continued dancing in a tight embrace. 

Later that evening, you ran into one of your friends at the music hall. The two of you were excited to see each other and decided it was a great photo-opp with the beautiful backdrop. You asked Jon to take a picture of the two of you and he gladly did. You posted it to your Facebook, tagging her. Again, Jon really disliked social media but he was aware you wanted to share the fun moment on your page. Facebook prompted you to tag the venue location and you hit ‘accept,’ without thinking too closely. 

The three of you spent a long time talking together at a bistro outside the venue, ordering some dessert. Eventually, Jon stepped away to go to the bathroom, and the three of you were preparing to part company. Your friend called it a night and gave you a hug goodbye. As you sat alone, waiting for Jon to come back, you felt a hand caress your shoulder and you looked up, smiling, expecting it to be Jon. 

It was Zane. You were in utter shock. “ZANE? What are you doing here?” 

“Surprise!” Zane said, as if you would be thrilled. You had no words. 

Without being invited, he sat down next to you. You scooted away from him. Before you could ask him what the hell he was doing there he said, “man this place is awesome huh? So, you out with friends or?” 

“I’m here with Jon,” you said, with an angry scowl. 

“Oh! I thought maybe you were having a girls night or something. So where is Mr. Universe? Left you all alone again?” Zane said in his smug tone. 

“He’s coming right back,” you said. “And Zane…. I really… don’t think we should hang out. At all. I really… I really think you should go,” you admitted with as much courage as you could put into your voice. 

“Hmmm.. is that what YOU want? You want me to go? Or is that what he wants?” Zane asked. 

“That’s what I want. ME. I want you to go,” you said, slowly standing up and backing away from him. You were feeling genuinely irked at this point. How did he find you? Why was he being so aggressive?

Jon was walking out to the bistros and saw Zane next to you. He froze and watched as Zane started to stand up and take steps towards you. He watched you taking steps away from him with a nervous expression on your face. Your body language was quite clear. You were frightened. 

“Well, I’ll go. But only if that’s what YOU want. But I gotta tell you, I don’t think that’s what you REALLY want,” Zane continued in an ominous tone as he stepped next to you and tried to stroke his hand across your face and play with your hair.  

Jonathan took slow steps towards the bistro, doing his best to restrain himself as he watched the whole thing going down. You pushed Zane’s hand away from your face, saying “what are you DOING?” as you felt genuine disgust. 

Jonathan slowly stepped next to you, pushing his arm between you and Zane and gently pushing you behind his body. You DID feel intimidated by Zane and you fully accepted/appreciated Jon stepping between the two of you. You reached out and held Jonathan. Jonathan put his arm around you, taking slow backwards steps with his arm firmly around you while maintaining a wordless death stare at Zane. 

“HEY man, how ya doing?” Zane said to Jon in a sarcastic tone. 

“Me? I’m fucking SWELL, Zane. What brings you here tonight?” Jon said in a low, ominous voice. 

“Ah… just looked like an awesome venue. It’s wild, I just keep running into her,” Zane said, pointing to you. “It’s like fate or something,” Zane said in an unhinged, condescending tone. 

“YEAH MAN! Fucken serendipity, innit?” Jon said, boring his eyes into Zane’s. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a picture of her here with a location tagged or nothing!” Jon said, calling Zane’s bluff. 

“PFT, damn, man, are you always this paranoid or is it like a bad cocktail of your meds?” Zane retorted. 

You were freaking out. You did NOT want this fight to happen. But… you had to admit, watching Jon put a stop to this was pretty damn satisfying. Zane had MORE than creeped you out at this point and you really REALLY wanted him to leave you alone for good. You tried to step in: 

“Please, Jon, let’s just go,” you said, holding Jon and trying to make him take a step back from Zane. Then you turned to Zane: 

“Zane, please, I think it’s for the best if we REALLY go our separate ways,” you continued, sternly. 

“Wow, he’s got you well trained!” Zane continued. Jon forced you to let go of him and took several steps forward towards Zane. He was THIS close to beating Zane’s ass. 

Jon stared Zane down and spoke calmly one more time. 

“SHE is free to do what the FUCK she wants. I don’t make her do ANYTHING. But I’ve got some free advice for YOU. YOU aren’t free to STALK her and not take NO for an answer. If you think you’re gonna keep that up, you’ve got another thing coming!” Jon growled. 

Zane chuckled:

“DUDE, you scare me about as much as a field of petunias. You don’t even WANNA know what I think of you,” Zane said. 

Jon’s eyes turned black. He was THIS close to losing his shit. 

“Think what the fuck you want about me. I’ve cut open bodies in the morgue for a living. I know EXACTLY where to make to right incisions depending on which of your FUCKIN organs I feel like removing first,” Jon growled before giving Zane a single, HARD shove backwards. Jon’s statement DID catch Zane off guard for a moment. Zane stumbled back before catching his balance and taking steps forward to shove Jonathan in return. 

“STOP!” you screamed. The scream caught the attention of a bouncer, who apparently had already had his eye on the situation. As the bouncer walked up, ready to break up whatever was going on, you gripped Jon’s hand and pulled him away as hard as you could.

“JON!! Please, let’s go now,” you begged. Jon did his best to restrain himself and turn on his heel, following you and wrapping an arm around you. His eyes were still black with rage. The bouncer stood next to Zane as Zane tried to throw one final insult: 

“Yeah that’s right, GO HOME. You get cranky past your bedtime, get some rest man!” Zane shouted. 

Jon pulled away from you one last time. “YEAH I’ll do that man, SWEET fuckin dreams of that first Y shaped incision before pulling open your FUCKING CHEST CAVITY!” Jon screamed in the blood-curdling voice. He put his arms back around you and held you as you speed-walked away and into the car. 

The ride back was silent, except for the two of you both breathing really hard. You realized you HAD been stalked, and you grabbed your phone out of your purse, opening facebook and blocking Zane. Halfway through the drive, you looked at Jon. He was driving very carefully but his eyes looked absolutely FILLED with fury. You couldn’t take it anymore and started sobbing. Jon looked at you while trying to keep driving. He didn’t know what to do. “Baby? BABY! I’m— I’m sorry,  I … don’t fuckin know what to say … I….. SHIT…. “ Jon said, half in rage and half in tears. 

At the first opportunity, Jon pulled over in a parking lot. He turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt to reach across the car and hold you. You held him and cried, holding him tightly. You sobbed onto his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole! I didn’t mean to embarrass you! It’s just, when I walked out and saw him, you looked scared, like you were trying to back away from him and he was pushing you into a corner! I LOST MY SHIT!” Jon said, apologetically. 

You let go of Jon and looked at his face in the dim light of the parking lot. 

“He WAS, Jon! He was creeping the hell out of me! I had told him to go away already and he wasn’t taking my word for it! I- I’m REALLY GLAD you did what you did! I’m glad you were there!” you admitted while crying. Jon shook and cried some more while holding you… however, he was still shaking/crying more with rage….. thinking about anyone treating you like that. 

“If he doesn’t fuck off … I swear to god.. I SWEAR TO GOD,” Jon said with his teeth gritted, while holding you. 

“I blocked him! He better fuck off. I’ll…. I’ll get a fucking restraining order if I had to Jon! I swear, I HATE THIS, this is a nightmare!” you said, holding him. The two of you just held each other tightly for a few more minutes. Eventually, the two of you composed yourselves and drove home. 

You were both emotionally spent when you got back. All you could do was change for bed, climb in, and hold each other tight. You were shaking and trying to compose yourself. You felt so comforted and safe in his arms. Eventually your snuffling stopped and you fell hard asleep against Jonathan. However, Jon stayed up for ages, unable to sleep. There was way too much adrenaline pumping in him still. But he was happy to just hold you in his arms while you slept. Eventually, he fell asleep also. 

In the end, you did not ever hear from Zane again. Perhaps that confrontation at the music venue REALLY got through to him. Although, you often wondered if Jon did something you were unaware of to further “make his point,” to Zane. You decided to never inquire. 

----

Side note: I have a TikTok & Youtube where I make sexy/funny JD thirst traps/naughty joke Korn-related comedy edits if y'all are interested. I include myself in several vids, I'm openly a pervy/dorky lady haha. My accounts are not for clout/promotion. I'm just way into him and if you stumbled THIS far into sexy JD stuff you might enjoy my vids.

Link to my Tiktok:

Link to a funny/sexy JD Stich I made:

Link to my Youtube:

More stories to come. Feel free to leave story theme requests/ideas in the comments or DM me :)

[oxittocin]

Hey oxittocin I was wondering if you could write Robin who turned into a child , but is still 30 or 28 (witch ever age u choose) and gn reader has to stay with her while the rest of the crew are looking for a solution to cure her, and maybe add just a little fluff....please

peace (nico robin x reader)

nico robin masterlist

thank you for the idea! here you go, my friend - i truly hope this does your request justice :") i must say, i am not very confident in my ability to write (especially fluff) so i hope this adequately satisfies.

cw: gn!reader, age reversal

What is peace to a pirate?

There had never been a dull day since you boarded the Going Merry. The Strawhats had a knack for attracting the most troublesome opponents, a trait you attribute to the reckless nature of your captain. One day, you’re stuck in the middle of saving a whole kingdom from political instability, and the next, you find yourself toe-to-toe with a God who wields lightning itself.

Peace was never an option to begin with. Still, merrily, without an ounce of hesitation towards the everyday hazards of pirate life, the crew remains ever eager for the next thrill - A hunger for danger so ferocious that it is comparable only to your captain’s appetite.

A life of peace, you suppose, had been thrown out the window the moment you decided to join the Strawhats.

————————————

Peace in a life of piracy is a mere farce. The calm before the storm, if you must.

Take today as an example.

Sanji had only just served breakfast before the first sign of danger had struck. What better way to start the morning than an intruder on the Thousand Sunny?

Robin had been the first to spring into action. A flick of her wrist was all it took to summon dozens of hands, wrapping around the limbs of the assailant in an attempt to incapacitate them.

That was the first mistake.

A flash of pink was all it took. When your eyes finally adjusted to the blinding light, Robin was already on the ground - noticeably smaller and shorter in size, a look of confusion gracing her features as the many hands holding the assailant down disappeared.

Robin looked…younger?

“The Modo Modo no Mi. It returns you 12 years younger. Do not let it touch you.” Nami warned the rest of the crew - aptly stopping Luffy before he threw a reckless punch towards the assailant.

There was a brief pause amongst the crew, uncertainty rising - How exactly do you attack without making physical contact?

The hesitation proved costly, as you see the assailant charging up for another attack. Instinctively, you flung yourself in front of Robin, tanking the next wave of pink energy.

You grimaced as you felt the sharp pain in your back from the impact. Your muscles burn as you feel your body physically shrinking.

Ah, to be 12 again.

————————————

“It’s peaceful, huh? Real quiet without the troublemakers around.” You offered Robin a shy smile as you took a seat next to her on the wooden deck.

Robin hummed in agreement, before turning to face you, “Thank you for taking that last hit, or I would be 4 instead of 16 now.”

Being the only two Strawhats who had their ages reversed, you and Robin were assigned to remain on the Thousand Sunny whilst the rest of the crew chased the assailant down.

“I can’t believe you were already this tall at 16, and I also don’t remember being this short at 12.” You grimaced, looking up at Robin.

“Even if you were your original age, I’d still be towering above you at 16.” Robin stated plainly. To be fair, there was nothing but truth in her statement. Still, seeing your disappointed pout, she chuckled, summoning a hand to pat your head gently, “If it brings you any comfort at all, I’d never have imagined 12 year old you to be this…adorable.”

“Adorable?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Nico Robin, might I remind you that I am a wanted pirate?” You said, hint of pride in your tone as you puffed your chest in an attempt to look scary.

“Adorable, like an angry chihuahua.” Robin teased.

You let out a “tsk”, eliciting another giggle from Robin as you playfully punched her shoulder.

“You know, I shouldn’t have shielded you. 4 year old Robin might have been less annoying than 16 year old Robin.” You grumbled. “And I’d at least be taller too," you added pettily.

An arm materialised on your shoulder and you felt a small tug on your ear.

“Ow! Robin! Not fair!” You cried out.

You hear her gorgeous chuckle again and you can’t help but smile. Despite the chaos surrounding your life, moments like these remind you of how content you are to be out at sea, surrounded by the people you call friends, and most importantly, alongside the wonder that is Nico Robin.

“Do you think we would have been friends at this age?” You asked sincerely after a moment of silence.

“Well, I’d still have been on the run at 16.” She said softly.

“So, probably not?” You asked.

“Probably not.” She answered, with a sheepish smile.

“But still, I wish I could have been in your childhood.” You say anyway, “I’d follow you around.”

“Like a chihuahua?” She teases once again.

You roll your eyes as you shook your head, “Wouldn’t you want company?”

A brief silence fell upon the conversation before Robin spoke up, “It’s a life of hiding and running. Would you still say the same if I could never give you peace back then?”

Peace. A state of contentment and comfort. Stability, even. Peace is oxymoronic to piracy, yet, sitting here with her, it feels like it’s all you’ve ever known.

Just short of telling her that she was your peace, you responded without missing a beat, “What is peace to a pirate?”

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Prisoner

Part 4

Part 1,* Part 2, Part 3, Part 4*

Authors note: I wrote the first part of this when I was feeling really down and the rest when I finally got the good news that my health issues have resolved and I don't have to fear anything. I wanted to rewrite everything, but then I thought it's a part of me, a part of my inner turmoil and I left it as it was.

Summary: Sihtric promised to find the cunning thief that saved his life in Bebbanburg, and kept that promise. What he didn't expect was to find her broken. Will his overwhelming love for her, allow him to heal all the wounds? 

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: imprisonment, implied rape in the past, SMUT 18+

Word Count: 5,2 K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

The thick and heavy air made your lungs burn in slow agony with each shallow breath you took. The disgusting smell of filth and rot that hit your nose with the force of a hurricane and made you almost choke on your own breath when you first entered the dungeon didn’t bother you anymore. You had long got used to it, as well as you had got used to the putrid broth and murky water brought to you and the other prisoners by the nuns. The very first time you had refused it, smashing the dirty bowls on the floor with an impudent laugh on your face. 

You had been so sure not to stay here for long, so confident in the imminent rescue and so appalled, when the time passed and it didn’t come. You had long lost count of the time, as there was nothing in the dungeon that would hint the movement of the sun, the dim torch light being the only illumination. 

You had spun back the last events before your capture hundreds and thousands of times, remembering the tiniest details of your last encounter with Constantin – your lord and protector, whom you had served all those years. There were no more doubts as to the reasons why you had landed in this filthy place. You were betrayed and used as a conciliation gift. 

The constant moans and cries, echoing through the walls and corridors, the rustle of rats, hopelessly searching for some remnants of food, and the chirp of the burning torches would have probably driven you mad if not for the burning anger, flaring-up in your chest and filling your veins with fiery determination to take revenge.

But as the time passed even this apocryphal source of energy started to lose its power, leaving room first to despair and then to indifference. Indifference to everything. 

The last sensation you remembered was the overwhelming, maddening hunger, your stomach clenching in spasms as you wiggled on the floor, arms wrapped around your waist; your mind was blurred and head spun as rough, bruising hands tore you from your dark oblivion and pulled you up to your feet. Your legs refused to obey and you were literally dragged out of the cell and through the empty, echoing corridors to the stairway and further up into the light, hitting you like a thunderbolt, your eyes unlearned to deal with it.

—---------------------------------------------

Sihtric turned to face the approaching guards dragging a dirty, gaunt, barefooted figure with bound hands, clad in filthy rags that carried a far resemblance to something that must have been a tunic some long time ago.

Even if Sihtric’s memories held a completely different picture of the beautiful widow, turned out to be a cunning spy and thief, but more importantly the unexpected saviour of his life in the fortress of Bebbanburg, he instantly recognised you. 

“Is it her? Are you sure?” Uhtred’s voice, like a distant echo, intruded in Sihtric’s bewildered  consciousness.

“Yes, it’s her,” Sihtric nodded, trying to preserve a nonchalant expression, only his eyes betraying the real emotions brewing inside him, filling with anxiousness and darkening with growing anger, his gaze fixed on the bony creature, that yelped in pain as it was thrown to the ground before him. 

“We have the direct order from the king to bring her before the Bishop’s court in Lundene,” Uhtred addressed the stern-faced man, sitting on a draped chair not far away from a table loaded with paper rolls, almost hiding the young scribe placed behind. 

“You can have her,” the man shrugged with shoulders, his face emotionless. “One mouth less to feed, although I don’t think she would have lasted long anyway,” he nodded to the scribe, who hastily scribbled something on the paper roll, and rose from the chair. “Some guards might miss her company though,” he added with a dirty smirk on his lips.

Uhtred’s brows furrowed, repulse evident on his face, as he casted a worried glance to Sihtric, whose face had turned ashen, his eyes clouded with confusion and a burgeoning fury, abruptly turning into cold, hard stones as he watched the guards by your side, muscles in his jaw tightening, lips pressing into a thin line. Sensing the tightening of his friend’s  muscles, preparing for a leap, as his hand slid down to the shaft of his axe, Uhtred placed a deterring hand on Sihtric’s shoulders, squeezing it warningly and turned back to the man. “Are you ready? We want to leave as soon as possible to reach Lundene within the next few days.”

Your eyes, slowly adjusting to the daylight, hidden behind loose strands of your dirty, tousled hair, cautiously scanned the hall and the men around you. What was happening here? Who were they? There was something undeniably familiar in the voice of one of them, something that stirred memories you had tried to entomb in the deepest corner of your mind. You carefully raised your gaze, instantly lovering it again, unable to believe what you had seen.  

“I will find you regardless,” the familiar voice echoed in your mind, bringing back the bittersweet memories of the last time you saw Sihtric, as he turned and passed through the small sea gate of Bebbanburg castle, disappearing into the shadows behind it. 

You had never expected this to happen, for him to really look for you and even less to find you, but there he was, his gaze locked on you, full of worry and compassion, the look you remembered so well, being the first and only man ever to look at you in such a way. Men looked at you with lust and longing, with fury and anger, pleading and threatening, sometimes demanding, but only Sihtric’s gaze had held this fleeting, indescribable hint of affection, sympathy and … yes, love. 

You pulled your bare feet beneath you, while your hands instinctively tugged at your rags, trying to cover your thighs. Boring a hole in the floor beneath you with your gaze, cheeks blushing in embarrassment, unnoticeably under the layer of dirt, covering your face, you silently wished death had finally claimed you last night, when the spasms were shaking your body. You didn’t want him to see you like this. 

Next moment you felt two strong, rough hands pulling you to your feet by the ropes binding your hands, grabbing you at your waist, pushing you up and throwing over one's shoulder. You gasped from the pain of your stomach hitting against the bones of the broad shoulder, breath hitching as you were carried out of the hall and in the same unceremonious way thrown over the saddle, the man mounting behind you.

“Sihtric, we are leaving,” a commanding voice shouted above your head, spurring the horse to movement, as you saw Sihtric rushing out of the hall, mounting the other horse and pressing his heels into its sides.

The ride was not long, as soon as the silhouette of the city faded in the background, the rider turned off the road into the woods and halted. Carefully and gently as if you were about to break he lifted you from the horse and lowered onto the smooth moss on the ground. You heard the other rider approaching and jumping to the ground. You let your eyes closed, you thought it a dream and opening your eyes could mean it’ll be gone. The ropes binding your hands were cut and you let them freely fall down on both sides of your body. 

“How is she? Did you really have to be so rough with her?” you could hear a hint of rebuke in Sihtric’s voice.

“We had to play it to the end. Did anybody follow us?” the other man spoke.

“No, no scouts, no pursuers. I checked thoroughly,” you heard Sihtric approaching

“Good, then we have successfully stolen your thief. But we shouldn't waste time. The road back to Coccham is still far enough,” the man rose, making space for Sihtric to kneel beside you.

“Hey, pretty widow. I told you I’ll find you, didn’t I? You are safe now. I’m taking you to Lord Uhtred’s estate,” rough fingers stroked your cheeks, pushing aside the strains of your disheveled hair and you finally braved to open your eyes to look at the man kneeling beside you. It was really him, it was Sihtric; his worried glance lightening with a shy smile.

—-----------------------------------------

The smell of something mouthwatering delicious tickled your nose as you slowly opened your eyelids and scanned the surroundings, letting your body register the softness of the mattress you were lying onto, the long forgotten, almost unnatural feeling of your head resting on a pillow, and the gentle touch of the blanket covering your body. 

“Good morning!” a soft whisper greeted you, sending a shiver down your spine, prompting you to sit up and turn to meet the familiar gaze of two mismatched eyes.

Sihtric watched you, settled in the chair by the window, his face bathed in the warm, golden rays of a rising sun, casting strange shadows over his handsome features. Your gazes locked and a long-drawn moment of silence spread between you, not an odd or eerie one – a warm and soothing silence not requiring any words, letting your eyes speak for themselves.

You felt words forming in your mind, but they didn’t reach the lips, stiffened by the strange sensation of warm liquid dampening your cheeks and blurring your vision. In surprise you touched your face and marvelled at your wet fingers, the mattress caving in from additional weight settling beside you, two strong arms wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you close in a tight embrace, intended to offer you solace and comfort. 

Instead, feeling two big rough palms on your bare skin, you jolted as if bitten by a poisonous snake and instinctively crawled back, crouching in the head of the bed, your eyes flaring with repulse, disgust and anger.

Sihtric instantly froze, lifting his hands as if in surrender and hastily removing himself from the bed.   

“I’m sorry. I didn’t …” he mumbled, unsure of what to say or what to do, but not letting his gaze off you, as you continued to look back at him. It was the same beautiful eyes he remembered, just dim and empty, surrounded by black circles, the mischievous spark stolen from them and replaced with the dark abyss of despair. 

Sihtric continued to stare at you, taking in your sunken cheeks, bulging collarbones and thin arms, wrapped around your legs until a realisation struck him and he stormed out of the room, returning a few moments later with a steaming bowl in his hands, spreading the familiar scent that had risen you from your sleep just minutes before. You almost tore the bowl from his hands, the hot liquid burning your mouth and tongue as you gulped it down greedily, almost without chewing on the pieces of meat and vegetables in it. 

“I have asked to prepare a bath for you, if you wish” Sihtric offered, watching you devour your meal.

You looked down at your dirty arms and legs, your hands nervously tugging at the dirty laces that somehow still held the rags around your shoulders, and a blush covered your cheeks as you hastily nodded your agreement to Sihtric.

—----------------------------------

Back in the room again, you grappled with the dress that was left there for you. You'd always loathed dresses, with their confining laces and superfluous layers that hindered movement. But this particular dress seemed designed to vex you. Its laces were at the back, making it impossible to secure without assistance.

The door behind you creaked, causing you to startle. Sihtric entered just as you were in the midst of your predicament. As you turned, you caught him averting his eyes, and he made to exit swiftly.

"Wait, please, could you help me?" It was actually the first time you'd spoken since he had rescued you and hearing your voice Sihtric's face lightened up with a sincere smile.

“I can help you, if you'd allow," Sihtric responded gently, his voice betraying a hint of  nervousness.

You turned your back to Sihtric and collected up your damp hair, a simple invitation for Sihtric to help you with the laces. He approached with caution, the recent memory of your startled reaction just before to his well intended touch still fresh in his mind. He was gentle, taking utmost care not to let his fingers brush against your skin more than necessary, his uneven breath tickling your neck.

The air around you seemed to pulsate with tension. You craved his touch, his firm embrace, telling you that everything will be alright, that you are safe, and you dreaded it simultaneously. Once he was done, you felt him retreat and only then did you turn to face him.

“Can you… can you just hold me?” you pleaded, placing your palms on his broad chest, making a step closer to him. Sihtric’s eyes filled with a silent question searched yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked and, encouraged by your nod, carefully wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you in a gentle embrace. You shivered from the sensation of his body pressed against yours, from the gentleness of the touch of his hands, rubbing your back, letting the warmth of Sihtric’s embrace seep into your very bones. Sihtric’s fingers gently brushed your hair, his touch as light as a feather. Enchanted by the serenity of the moment you finally braved to lean into his embrace, allowing your tears flow freely, releasing your pain, letting it find an outlet with the force a damned river seeks its way to the sea.

"Husch," he murmured into your hair, rocking you gently, "I’ve finally found you. I’m here with you, and I’m never letting you go again."

You buried your nose into the crook of Sihtric’s neck, breathing in his scent. After all this time you still remembered it, although it seemed like memories from another life. You remembered his strong arms wrapped around your waist, his infectious laugh, the genuine care in his eyes, his sweet kisses alternating between sweet and gentle, rough and passionate, leaving you yearning for more, his confident touch on your skin and … you shrugged … disgust and shame washing over you as you remembered other rugged hands pinning your wrists with rough force to the cold stone floor of the dungeon …

The movement with which you pushed Sihtric back was instinctive, but so fierce that he staggered and almost fell, bewilderment and pain plainly written on his face. 

“I’m sorry…” you stammered, “Gods, Sihtric! I’m so sorry. I can’t…,” you hid your eyes with your palms and stormed out of the doors.

—---------------------------------------------------

The fresh evening wind seemed to mock Sihtric, carrying sounds of people chattering, silent footsteps and other noises from the houses surrounding the inn they had been staying in, but not a sound from you. Every corner he turned, every small pathway he glanced down, he hoped he'd find you. But as the minutes turned into hours, despair began to grip him. You had seemingly vanished.

As the completely clear summer sky turned dawn blue, Sihtric was finally ascending the steps to his room. There seemed to be no point to continue looking for you, he had profoundly searched all the possible places within this small town they had chosen for a halt. Just found, he had lost you again and the feeling of complete failure gnawed at him. He pushed the door and entered the dark, unlit room, just to discover your silhouette shrunken in the chair by the window, your knees up, held by your thin, bony arms, your head resting on them. 

You didn’t move as he entered the room, your eyes wandering somewhere out of the window, but it was not possible that you hadn't heard him. Sihtric approached carefully as if closing in to a shy prey, afraid to startle it and to prompt another swift escape. With a gentle grace, Sihtric knelt beside the chair, the desire to touch you, to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer pulsing through every cell of his body, but he managed to restrain himself, remembering the reaction his touch had caused.

“I love you, my pretty thief,” he whispered, his eyes scanning your features, waiting for a reaction. “I don’t expect or want anything from you. I just want to be near you, to care for you and to protect you,”  he continued as there was no response from your side.

“I’ll not pretend that I could ever understand or feel what you have gone through these past months. It would be a shameless lie. I can’t. But that doesn’t make me less willing to share your pain,” Sihtric shifted, slowly sinking completely to the ground in front of you and seating himself with his back leaned against the wall. 

“I’m not the same person you met on your way to Bebbanburg anymore,” your words came slowly, your eyes wandering down to find him, “I was a fool, an arrogant, presumptuous fool, thinking my loyalty to Constantin was worth more than your love. I’m broken beyond repair, Sihtric. Broken and tarnished. I don’t deserve your love.”

Sihtric pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “Believe me one thing - I know what pain and humiliation means. In a different way perhaps, but it haunts me my whole life. I don’t think any less of you now than I thought of you then. Just the opposite. I admire your strength and resilience even more than before. And if only you’d let me, I’ll do everything to make sure you never have to endure the pain again.” 

You both remained like that for a long while - you crouched in the chair by the window and Sihtric on the floor by your feet. The rising sun filled the room with a golden light, shimmering and playing on your skin; none of you moved immersed in your own thoughts and fears until the firm knock on the door and Uhtred’s voice brought you back to reality. You had to travel further, as Uhtred feared that his deception being on king's orders might be discovered, leading to a pursuit he wanted to evade. 

After a full day of exhaustive riding, sitting in front of Sihtric on his horse, you finally reached another small town and settled in for the night. You were not sure what had exhausted you more - the ride or the closeness of Sihtric’s body pressed against yours, his hands wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly on the horseback. 

Luckily the room you got had two beds, so you didn’t have to worry about Sihtric sleeping in the armchair or on the floor as he wouldn’t agree to you sleeping alone. You both settled in and Sihtric, exhausted by the sleepless night before, slipped quickly under the blanket and closed his eyes, without even taking off his leather armour. 

“Hey, don’t be stupid. You can’t sleep in your armour. I’ll go fetch some water, so you can take it off, while I’m gone,” you casted a thankful look at Sihtric before closing the door behind you, understanding he had done it out of his concern for you, not willing you to feel pressed or uncomfortable. 

When you returned, you noticed his armour neatly folded on the chair by the table and Sihtric hidden underneath the blanket, eyes closed, although his uneven breath betrayed he was not sleeping.

You turned your back to him, took off your dress and slid under the blanket. You were so tired, that sleep overtook you before your head hit the pillow.  

It was still early in the night, judging by the moon, when you shot up in your bed, breath coming in ragged gasps and forehead covered with sweat, taunted by a nightmare. The room was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination coming from the silver beams of the moon filtering through the gap in the curtains. 

You quickly cast a hidden glance over at Sihtric, peacefully breathing in his sleep, his chest rhythmically heaving under the blanket.

The moonlight played upon his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw. The light caught in the soft curls of his hair, lending him an ethereal glow. His eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks, fluttering slightly in his sleep, his lips slightly parted.

There was an undeniable serenity to his expression. The worries and lines that marred his face during the day were absent, replaced by a calmness and in this moonlit moment, he looked younger and more innocent. 

You placed your legs down over the edge of the bed and stood up. You knew there was no way you could fall asleep again, not after the taunting pictures that visited you in your dreams. All your ride, pressed against Sihtric’s chest, his arms steadying you to prevent you from slipping down from the horse, you had been thinking over what he had said to you last night. You had been stupid enough to reject his love once, but he hadn’t given up. He had searched for you, found you and liberated you. 

You approached Sihtric’s bed and leaned over, tracing your fingers lightly over his brow, pushing back a stray lock of hair. The touch grounded you, pulling you away from the remnants of your nightmare and bringing you back to the present. His warmth, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft sounds of his sleep, so peaceful and comforting, strangely conveyed a feeling of safety.

You remained for a moment seated on the edge of the bed, just marvelling at the sight of the sleeping man before you, before lifting the blanket and slipping beneath it, wrapping your arm around his waist and laying your head on his chest. You closed your eyes and froze listening to Sihtric’s steady, lullabying heartbeat, the comforting rhythm anchoring you, letting your fingers slowly walk in gentle small steps over his stomach. 

Sihtric opened his eyes, turning to you, and stared in bewilderment. You saw the unspoken question in his gaze and smiled in return, nestling yourself closer to him.

“I want to forget,” a whisper departed your lips, “Will you help me?” 

Sihtric’s arms instinctively wrapped around your naked body and embraced you with such a force that you almost forgot how to breathe for a moment. 

You liberated your hand and let your fingers tangle in his long curly hair for a moment, sliding your index finger over his forehead to his nose and down to his lips, your faces just centimeters apart.

“Please, make me forget!” you pleaded, leaning in and pressing your lips to Sihtrics. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, a mere brush of lips. Sihtric responded to it, hesitantly, barely touching yours, as if afraid of scaring you off again, but as seconds stretched on and you hadn’t pushed him away yet, he braved to allow it to deepen, becoming more passionate and filled with yearning, his large, warm hand cupping your face.

When you finally broke apart, Sihtric looked utterly taken aback, surprise evident in his wide eyes. But that surprise was quickly overshadowed by a different emotion, one that set his gaze aflame. He pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair, and captured your lips once again. This time, there was an urgency, a desperation in his kiss, as if making up for lost time. Your tongues danced against each other, twisting and whirling around one another, lips brushed swollen and red from the intensity of the passionate touch. 

You knew they were going to come, the flashing memories of pain mixed with flares of anger, helplessness and shame, the burst of torn pictures your mind couldn’t stop conjuring, piercing through your consciousness like a glowing metal rod, but this time you were ready for them. You melted into Sihtric’s kiss, letting yourself fly, immersing in the soft touch of his hands, caressing your back and your hair, absorbing the tenderness of his movements and storing all this in your mind, wrapping it around you as a protective layer. And when the dark memories came, instead of pushing Sihtric away you clung even harder to him, digging your nails in his bare flesh and pulling him closer.

You pulled apart, gasping for breath, hearts pounding. Sihtric’s fingers gently trailed the contours of your face, his thumb lightly pecking your lips, as he lifted up your chin.

“Are you …” Sihtric wanted to speak, but you interrupted him by placing your finger on his lips.

“Sssch, yes, I’m sure,” you whispered, revelling in the soft and caring look in his eyes.

“You don’t…” Sihtric tried to object, but you silenced him with your lips.

Sihtric’s big, rough hand stroked your back, trailing down to your bottom and up again. Carefully and smoothly he rolled you on your back with the tender pressure of his whole body, supporting him on his elbow. His eyes drunk in the sight of you, your hair strayed over his pillow, eyes half closed, lips parted and smiling. 

“You are so beautiful, so breathtakingly beautiful,” Sihtric’s words came with a heavy sight as he leaned in touching your jaw with his lips, fingers trailing over your skin down to your breasts.

“I don’t want to rush you. I can wait for you as long as it takes,” his lips brushed against your ear, breathing in his words. 

In response your hand went down to his hips, teasingly trailing over his already fully hard cock, wrapping your fingers around it and stroking it slowly. A heavy moan escaped Sihtric’s parted lips as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck.

“I know,” you finally answered, your hand still wrapped around his length, stroking him, your fingers teasingly caressing the tip, enjoying Sihtric’s breath on your neck getting more ragged with each movement, his hushed moans echoing in your ears. “That’s exactly why I want this… No, I need it… I need to feel that it is my decision and my choice. I want you, Sihtric.”

“I’m all yours, use me,” he breathed in your mouth, capturing your lips with his. You moaned into his kiss, feeling his hand carefully touching your breast, massaging it and slightly squeezing your nipple between his thumb and index finger. His lips found their way down to your other nipple, closing carefully around it, suckling and teasing it with his tongue and teeth. 

Sihtric was so gentle, as if you were made of glass. His hands and lips were everywhere, stroking, caressing, fondling, no – worshiping every inch of your body, kissing his way down to your inner thigh. You let yourself dissipate in his hesitant touch, as he pushed your legs apart to grant him better access to your core, his eyes searching yours in a silent plea for a permission, before his tongue swiped through your folds, making you gasp loudly. It was not you surrendering to him, but him begging you to allow to devour you. And you melted under his touch, eager to submit, to please, to beg for him in return. 

Your moans were getting louder as you felt yourself falling apart with each lap of Sihtric’s tongue against your perl, moving ever firmer and faster, your hands gripping the bed sheets with full force and aching your back against the mattress. And as you felt yourself falling into oblivion, ecstasy washing over you, your hips frantically bucking against his tongue, the muffled groan of satisfaction rolling over Sihtric’s lips, made you scream his name in pleasure, forgetting everything.

The satisfied grin on Sihtric’s face as he kissed his way back to your lips made you giggle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed, but now you did. Sihtric looked at you amazed, a hint of bewilderment even resentment in his gaze. Were you making fun of him?

“I love you!” you tittered, but then your face grew serious. “I’ve always loved you! Even when I told you to leave without me in Bebbanburg, I did love you. I hope you know that.”

“I hoped you did,” Sihtric smiled at you, sitting back between your legs, “Why else would you risk your life saving me?” 

His eyes scanned your body, as if enchanted by the tantalising sight before him. “Will you have me?” he asked, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. You shrugged, sensing fear building up somewhere in the back of your mind. But you knew you could say no, and this knowledge, settling slowly in your mind, along with the genuine care, even worry mixed with sweet longing in Sihtric’s eyes allowed you to overcome all your doubts. You reached out for him, your hands trailing down his muscular chest and stomach, taking hold of his hard cock, dragging the tip of him through your folds and placing it at your entrance.

“It’s my choice and I choose you,” you breathed in anticipation.

Sihtric pushed forward, slowly, hesitantly, his eyes not leaving yours, watching carefully. You gasped, feeling his length stretching and filling you, expecting for more, but instead Sihtric stopped, his gaze scanning you. 

“Don’t,” you moaned, your walls clenching. “Don’t stop!” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist, digging your nails in his hips and pulling him closer. 

Sihtric moaned heavily as he finally sheathed fully inside of you, remaining still for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your walls taking him in and clenching around him. Too long. You wanted more. 

“Sihtric, I need you! All of you!” you whispered, trying to take the control away from him as you bucked your hips against his.

Sihtric pulled out slowly, before pushing forward again and then again, his movements so slow and gentle, driven by the only desire - to please you, to satisfy you and make you forget everything apart from his unending love for you. He kept watching your face carefully, but seeing your delightful expression, your eyes half lid, your head snapped back and hearing the mewls of pleasure departing your lips, it was harder and harder for him to control himself. 

“Gods, you can’t even imagine what you are doing to me,” Sihtric groaned, “I’ve been dreaming of this every night since the very moment I left through that damned Sea gate. I love you, pretty widow… I love you, my cunning thief… I still don’t know your name, but I love you, like I’ve never loved anyone before,” Sihtric breathed heavily in your ear. His lips found your neck, kissing, sucking and bruising your soft skin with his teeth, his breath panting and his moans growing stronger and heavier with each thrust. 

You moaned and whined, digging your nails in his back with the full force of your thin arms, savouring each and every snap of his hips, pushing deeper and deeper into you, drawing you closer to the edge. His movements got faster, his breath itchy, driving you mad with each thrust, as you ached for more. 

“Don’t … don’t hold back,” you hissed, rocking your hips against his and gasping in pleasure as Sihtric finally let go of his self imposed control and started to fuck you frantically, rutting his hips against yours faster and faster. 

And then you were falling, falling into complete oblivion with your heart racing and your eyes darkening, tears rolling down your cheeks. There was nothing else, just you and him, and the overwhelming sensation of happiness, running through your veins. No dark memories, no fear, nothing. Just pure bliss. Your walls were clenching around Sihtric’s cock, your body shaking in the waves of pleasure, his name on your lips like a prayer. 

Sihtric continued to fuck you through your orgasm, savouring your pleasure and each and every spasm of your walls around him. And only feeling your body relaxing, the last shivers fading away slowly, he finally allowed himself to follow you, spilling deep inside you with a loud groan. 

You were both panting, sweaty and out of breath, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close, burying your face into the crook of his neck, the weight of his body making it hard to breathe. But you didn’t want to let go, you wanted to stay like this forever, feeling him inside you and all over you, breathing him in, dizzy from the overpowering feeling of being alive and loved.

Sihtric carefully shifted to the side, pulling out of you with a heavy sigh.

“Are you OK? Wasn’t it too much for you… I didn’t want to be rough…” his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his embrace, “I love you so much, that it almost hurts. I don’t want to ever let go of you,” he whispered. “Please, tell me that you will never leave me again. Tell me that you are finally mine.“

“I’m yours and I’m staying in this life and beyond. You have no escape from me now,” you smiled and hugged him tightly, nestling against his strong chest and hearing his heartbeat just under your ear.

Part 1,* Part 2, Part 3, Part 4*

[itsparis-07]

Brooklny's sparrow pt 5! - self love on a roof

(Hey ya'll! after aaaaalll the schoolwork I finally finished this part of mitchiko's story and my god it's was sooo much writing this! And I hope you guys like this one too, and a small btw in honor of atsv one year thingie this is a huge reference to miles and gwen's lil roof moment)

The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow across the sky. A cool breeze rustles through the leaves of the trees, their branches swaying gently overhead. The air smells like a mixture of sea salt and jasmine, carrying with it a sense of serenity and peace. It's the perfect evening to be on the roof of the air B&B.

Miles and Mitchiko, still wrapped in the blanket, lean against the brick wall, their bodies pressed together. They gaze out at the city below, lost in each other's eyes. Miles can feel the butterflies in his stomach, the heat in his cheeks. This moment, right here, feels like something out of a movie.

he calms down looking at Mitchiko as her dreads swayed with the wind and the sunset's glow on her brown skin. Miles thinks about the way she smiled at him earlier, the way she laughed at his jokes. It feels like they've known each other for a lifetime, even though it's only been a few weeks.

"You good? I mean with whole us being on the run and shit?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Miles didn't want to break the spell, didn't want to ruin this perfect moment by bringing up the reality of their situation. Mitchiko shrugged, the movement causing her dreadlocks to dance in the breeze.

"I…I don't even know, It doesn't even feel real or right to me anymore, you know? Like it's all just…surreal, I guess." Mitchiko exhaled slowly, her breath fogging the air between them. "But…I'm glad I'm here with you. Even if it's just for a little while." Her gaze locked onto his, and Miles took a hit of blunt he had in his pocket the rolled up not to long ago, he offered it to her. She accepted and took a long drag before exhaling.

"Don't worry, we'll make it..I know it." Miles said to her trying to reassure her, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder. He took another drag of the blunt and looked at her, her eyes sparkling with hope. There was something about her, something that made him feel safe, made him feel like they could take on anything together.

Mitchiko sighs as she looked at the sunset, her eyes filled with a mix of wonder and sadness. "I hope…I hope we can make it back home, you know? Back to our lives. To Brooklyn. This running around thing…it's not how I imagined my life after…i got out." Her voice cracked a little, and Miles felt his heart ache for her. He knew how much her new home meant to her, how much she worrys for him and his mother.

"We will, okay?" he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "We'll find a way." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. The weight of the blanket, the warmth of their bodies, it all felt so comforting, so right. They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each other's company and the moment, watching the world go by below them.

As their faces grew closer together, Miles could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on them. But for this moment, they were free, watching the world spin below them. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her soft, warm skin. Mitchiko closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his touch.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. They sat there, wrapped up in the blanket, as the last rays of light danced across their faces. A cool breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, carrying with it the sounds of the city: cars honking, people laughing, music drifting up from a nearby rooftop party.

Mitchiko leaned her head against Miles' shoulder, her eyes still closed. He could feel the weight of her body, the warmth radiating from her skin. He didn't want this moment to end, didn't want to leave this place where they could be together, just like this, without the world pressing down on them.

"You know, you've always been great to talk to." Mitchiko gave him a kiss on the cheek, her voice soft and gentle. "Even when we first met, I always felt like nobody would even take me in or treat like a human at all, but i'm thankful to have you Miles."

Her words made Miles' heart swell. He'd never had a friend like her, someone who truly understood him and what he'd been through. And now, here they were, together, facing the world. He squeezed her shoulder gently and looked back at the city.

"Really?" he said, with a smirk. "Well, as they say..There's a first time for everything."

"…A first time for everything, eh?" Mitchiko repeated, her voice trailing off as she leaned back against the brick wall. The weight of the night seemed to settle on her shoulders once more, and she let out a sigh. Miles felt it too, the heaviness that came with the knowledge of what they were up against. But he was determined not to let it break them.

As they sat there, watching the city lights flicker to life below them, Miles found himself wishing for something more. Not just a way home, but a life together where they could be free from the threat of capture and re-entry. Where they could wake up every morning to the sound of the subway and the smell of street food. Where they could walk down the street holding hands without fear. It was a dream that seemed so far out of reach, yet he couldn't help but cling to it.

Mitchiko seemed to sense his thoughts. She wrapped her arms around him tighter, resting her chin on his shoulder. "One day, Miles. One day, we'll find a way to stop Norman ." Her voice was soft, but it held determination.

Cont in part 6!

[ran-orimoto]

The naughty ponentino

[ Italy miraculously scored at the 97th minute, I published a new Junzumi one-shot after MONTHS of struggling at uni and, consequently, in writing as well. Tbh I didn’t feel that fine in the first part of the year and my self-esteem paid the consequences of the tour down the hill my uni life took for months. You know, you go badly at uni, you will be attacked by parents and relatives everyday, you will get poisoned by all the mean things you hear and you will lose your self. But I’m healing, guys, slowly but I am. Junzumi and my trash about them has been giving me a great boost in recovering a part of my confidence. So…Enjoy this long story, fruit of my STRUGGLE, also because, like I said on AO3, this has been a writing struggle fr real. The amount of drafts I wrote before coming to a decent result could fill a sea!]

Context: This is set during the infamous roman trip Izumi intends to drag everyone in, after having turned Junpei’s suggestion upside down. It’s the last day of leisure in Rome and Fate tricks Izumi again. ]

• Il ponentino malandrino •

“Izumi-Chan? Izumi-Chan, are you sleeping?

…

She had decided to follow the wind in a place where it could have never entered. And yet, that was what had happened: it had managed to slip in a crack of the entrance, had chased her with the trails of its gusts, had sat by her side just to whisper words she, as only human on Earth, only creature in the universe, eventually interpreted and understood…Clearly. Then, after it had succeeded in distracting her from something she wasn’t minimally interested in, it had left, diving into a river turgid of notes and quickly swimming upstream.

Every wind had its own personality, she had learnt as time had passed by. There were sweet breezes that would punctually help her fall asleep, if she chose to leave the window opened at night: chilly and able to spread goosebumps on her skin at their first touch, but provoking those while giving her motherly kisses to reassure her, make her relax, calm the tornado whirling in her chest down. Sometimes, on a break from her photoshoot sessions, she would receive visits from an adventurous scirocco telling her about those seas and shores over which it had passed-by on its warm wings; those exotic corners owning sands shimmering like minuscule, precious stars stranded on our planet. At other times an irritated mistral would come to vent, seek comfort from its favourite shoulder, a bit shy at first, hiding below her curtain of wheat threads but ending up throwing them in the air, one after one, not having managed to control its anger.

And lastly, there was the naughty roman ponentino from her childhood memories, the place she believed it had sneaked in to fool her, to abandon her right at the moment she needed its support the most.

Confused, speechless, shocked…Thunderstruck.

Che cosa ho fatto?! Che cosa ho fatto?!

After having been hit by a lightning, a tree will stand still below the tension of the sky, peeved, until the creaking noises coming from inside its trunk and corroding its fibers force it to curve on a side and make it collapse on the hard ground.

What in the world have I done?!

Izumi petrified as well, but as soon as she felt her back rocking back and forth on its own, she tore up the roots her feet had anchored her to the floor with and tried waving her limbs. They felt weird, numb, like if she had stayed in the same position for an eternity, a tingling sensation reminding her of those little pops fireworks will leave after having exploded in the firmament.

Fortunately, she didn’t need them at the moment. Indeed, she wished for them to remain in that useless state until that spectacle, whatever it was supposed to be technically called, ended. She shouldn’t move, not even breath. Any minimal shift, even the uncontrollable ones of her chest, might lead her to unpleasant consequences, danger. If her palm had perched on her large grimace, concealing its guilt but leaving a small edge exposed, there would it have to stay; if her knees were pressing against each other, they would have to keep on doing that until time began flowing in the whole Teatro dell’Opera again, no matter if bones crackling against each other were one of the most repulsive feelings ever, in her opinion; if her other hand had landed on her skirt, pinching not only its tissue but also the flesh of her thighs, it would have to freeze in that painful nervousness until it was given a signal of stop.

In a nutshell, she would have to totally turn into a pillar of salt, one which, -who knew, she fantasized with shame-, could be disintegrated by that ponentino of her boots, if it came back to assist to the great finale of the orchestra’s performance.

Only her eyes were allowed to swing as much as they pleased, on alert, high allert just like they were supposed to be, occasionally venturing in the meanders of an artificial night to find a stout silhouette slightly leaning forward, round shapes of elbows puffing up on the marble of a sill.

Motionless, engrossed in the frantic escaping of the violins, the relentless rush of their bows, the terror of the chords being urged to keep on running, never looking back at the cumulonimbus advancing behind them.

As if nothing had ever happened.

Izumi’s mouth opened in surprise and she felt her figure disobeying to her steel orders at once, coming back to life, straightening, fully turning in that direction, in his direction, so she could take a better look at him and boggle. So much effort thrown away in the immediacy of a reaction that had skillfully evaded the supervision of her legendary, -beh, in the past it used to be, before that day-, control.

Suddenly, at that sight of utter nothingness welcoming her, she felt disgruntled. Her orbs got squeezed by a very accentuated frown that descended on their contours and unloaded all the weight of its annoyance on them. As paradoxically as it might sound, it was easier to believe some merciful entity, -Fairymon, might it be you?-, had landed on the big clock above the stage and had put a whole minute back on it.

It was easier, much easier to sell that lie herself than believing Junpei hadn’t noticed.

How could she, especially if she recalled all those recollections of hers featuring him listing a series of details about her, which not even she had ever acknowledged to own before? Special fragments of hers only he could grasp, such as swabs of impalpable colour that would bounce behind her, whenever she tossed her gilded strands down her back with an elegant movement of her palm. She had glared at him back then, had also been on the verge of slapping him: to be honest with herself, he had really begun spitting the biggest idiocies, since she had revealed about the motley filter enhancing her surroundings, her days, wherever she might go.

It is…Just impossible, She gave another suspicious glance at him, an eyebrow getting stuck in its arched form as she reluctantly returned to her right, to that column and the elegant bollard attached on it, the only source of frail light she could reach out to in the hope of clearing her mind. As soon as she let the dim halo of its ray embrace her, she felt like punching herself. Actually, it finally dawned on her that was what she had been looking for. That was the chance she had been praying for, the solution to her problems, so there was no reason to feel so upset, so dissatisfied; there was no reason for that pout she had worn without even realizing to exist.

Accepting it was true he hadn’t noticed, he hadn’t felt anything implied she could pretend she had never done that as well. After all, nobody had seen her doing what she had in the thick darkness, there was no one who had witnessed her mistake, there was no camera that had taped that instant. In conclusion, there was no proof of that, except those obnoxious electric ants still crawling on her skin -but they would go away sooner or later, wouldn’t they?- and her still fresh memories making her toes curl at their continuous circling, -but even when it came to them, someday they would turn into nothing more than the remnant of a hallucinated lucid dream, wasn’t that so?-.

Instead of smiling at that idea, though, she clenched her jaw while ruminating about that possibility, afraid of taking that step forward despite being aware it would free herself from so many unnecessary concerns and pains.

Where are you? Why did you escape?

Where had the wind gone? Where? She wasn’t used to filling her head with so many doubts. She didn’t like thinking and getting lost in the maze of her questions, without a guide leading her from up above.

…

“Izumi-Chan? Izumi-Chan are you sleeping…?” Who knew for how long she had been running in that imaginary garden with no destination, if he ended up asking her that. “Izumi…Izumi-Chan? Are you?” In the thick shadow of a theatre box, Junpei’s voice, the chirping of a well-fed robin begging for more crumbs from the railing of a balcony, sounded like being hopping in her ears like the sticks thumping a drum.

“Do you happen to often ask a sleeping person if they are sleeping?” Having got further from the bronzy glow with a hop of her backside, she couldn’t make out where he exactly was, how closer he had got to her, but there definitely was something quite large hovering near to her nose. It was performing slow rotations and pulling away whenever it accidentally grazed the waves of her ruffled hair, as if it could sense the imperceptible shivers running on her bare shoulders.

“Uhm, now that you ask me, I would get pretty angry if someone did that to me. I don’t know what I would do if you happened to be that person, though, Izumi-Chan,” She didn’t feel like adding a word to that externalization of disarming naivety, so she limited herself to internally sigh while continuing listening to his clumsy blabbing, to those sections of its’ he was muttering more to himself than her in a very silly monologue. What in the world was he talking about? He was the only one knowing that! “I would open my eyes and think I’m dead or something because an angel has woken me up, ah ah. Or a mermaid! Because Izumi-Chan’s voice sounds like a beautiful song even when she’s just speaking, ah…”

“Junpei…!” Her tongue suspended in incredulity, she searched for a part of his body she could pat on to fish him out from that swirl he had been trapped in. In the span of less than five seconds, he had dragged her to such levels of exasperation his name had come out from her mouth way too loudly. Predictably, to her utter shame, some old man blending in the indefinition of their surroundings punctually sent her a very bothered warning through a long hiss.

“Eh, someone is in urgent need of a chamomile,” Junpei commented with a snort, unaware her fingers were floating some millimeters distant from his arm. How many other times would he be fooled by those jokes the blackness had been pulling at him?

“Oh…Look at what you have done!” A laughter bursted in her vacillating conscience confirmed that she wasn’t going to aim her gaze at that direction ever again. “It was already embarrassing enough to hear you asking me if I was sleeping!”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you, I’m sorry, Izumi-Chan,” She could picture him shaking his head at an increasing pace, his lips probably protruded in a childish mortification. “But, you see, I was worried you had fallen asleep because it would have meant you had got bored.”

And she had to confess he wasn’t that wrong. It was the first time she had gone to the theatre and…Well, she wasn’t really enjoying it that much, if she had to be sincere with herself. To someone like her not being able to stay at a desk and focus for more than thirty minutes, without fiddling with, -for example- ,the zip of her pencil case or making her feet stomp on each other or, again, just contemplating the poetic scenario out of the window, that was resulting to be a struggle. Having to sit on a chair with no support surface in the vicinity was making her feel so restless, making her want to stand up and give kicks in the air. Yet, what was even more tedious about the situation than that that there was…Nothing in front of her. Just people in soulless elegant clothes playing instruments and repeating the same actions over and over again; people whose appearance wasn’t even that distinct, as Junpei hadn’t only got a back luck not finding opera tickets, but he also had had to settle for a theatre box confined to the extreme right of the large area, isolated in his misfortune from the rest of the audience.

Chissà, Like a flyer fluttering through the roads of a big city after having avoided to be torn by a darting car, a cautious hypothesis got thrown out from the incessant, vicious tornado that had generated in her stomach. Her curiosity was quick to pick it up and eagerly read its daring content, even quicker to mold her wince of resigned perplexity in a sly smirk. Maybe I did that out of boredom…

Only when other freed leaflets began crowding her mental space, polluting it with paper scribbled with baubles, rubbish, did she remember she had a bizarre conversation to keep going. Her interlocutor had been in standby mode for a considerable while, but he predictably reanimated without complaints or silly exclamations, -more fitting for him!-, as soon as her attention shifted on him again. He could have waited for a reply, a sign of life from her for hours and hours, for all she knew.

“Why would you get that worried about it? There’s no need.”

“There is, instead. I am the one who invited you to come here.”

“More like you convinced me with a magical trick,” She felt so stupid while attempting to mimic the skilled oscillating of his index, vividly viewing it in her fresh memories from back when they were in the foyer. He had showed, indeed, had put his ticket on display, like if it was a precious possession, a new member of his collection of accumulating bits and pieces.

…

…

More or less, an hour before

That nagging silver tongue of hers ,which had previously pestered him with so many futile platitudes, was refusing to collaborate with her: it had holed up at the door of her throat, inert, obstructing the passage of her voice, of whatever she could say to fill that silence of hers.

“Junpei…”

She just believed it wasn’t fair he had to be the one always getting let down by events he couldn’t control. If it had been oddly refreshing to have been the one having bad luck for once, having had to wave farewell to her afternoon of leisure, it would have been even more than that if she had been the only misfortunate one for once. She would have been laughing about it all, instead of being taciturnly staring at the young man in front of her who was pretending not to be caring in the least, reading the content of a booklet out loud in an unlistenable italian. He could annoy her even in such an unpleasant circumstance!

“Let’s see…Anutonio Vui…Varudi. Vi…Vardi?”

“I-It’s Antonio Vivaldi,” She managed to formulate a coherent sentence only when she spotted a man holding a broom, a couple of elders sitting on a sofa, the receptionist behind her desk, all those people who had been minding their business in the foyer suddenly stopping what they were doing to look at them. Everyone, no one excluded. She could feel their curious, malicious eyes checking them out from any direction, all the attention of the Teatro dell’Opera on them as if they were a pair standing on a stage, below the spotlight. That was even worse than the moment their plane had landed in Rome and he had started singing a Nel blu dipinto di blu at the top of his lungs. Every passenger, -again, everyone! She had turned to give a glance at the the rows of seats behind them!- had begun commenting about the scene with mean-spirited observations, obviously pointing not only at him, but also at the distressed girl by his side who had eventually been affected by that euphoria because of…A weak immune system?

“Didn’t you say you are a fan of classical music as well? It doesn’t seem so.”

“I really do, Izumi-Chan, but I play piano, not violin.”

Nonplussed, she analyzed that genuine smile extending from a side to the other of his face, those glimmers of joy sparkling in his irises like honey on a little spoon. He had just heard that his last chance to watch an opera spectacle in Italy had gone up in smoke, that there were no tickets left and he was acting like that? She was aware each person’s reactions to disappointments weren’t the same, but he wasn’t looking disappointed in the least. That wasn’t possible, that was just…Inhuman.

“Izumi-Chan…?”

“Has anyone ever told you it’s okay to make a scene, mope, yel-,” She cut herself short with composure, changing the trajectory of her speech by slowing down with a single toe on the brakes. Words were supposed to be pondered while talking to him! “No, yelling is absolutely not okay, especially to someone like you. But you get what I mean, don’t you? I know you were truly looking forward to watching…What was his name? Rossini? It’s understandable you are feeling sad. I would too, so there’s no reason to pretend you are not.”

“Well, I did care about watching that spectacle, but things have gone the way they have. There’s nothing to do about it,” He shrugged, imperturbable, readily tweeting that nonchalant answer without a moment’s hesitation. That swiftness and undeniable frankness made her jaw softening its clench. Then, however, Junpei began growing stiffer, uptight, abruptly averting his gaze and puckering his lips as if he wanted to whistle. His irises flew away to nestle in some hidden tunnel in the ceiling, whereas hers swooped onto her top, their eyelids feeling hot and humid as she blinked over and over again to discern the outline of a pair of slopes, of their borders trimmed with lace.

She had picked the best outfit for a stroll in the old town, had turned her trolley upside down to test every possible combination of styles and palettes in front of the mirror. When the crew had seen her stepping in the hall of the hotel, enwrapped in a dress woven with the white of serene clouds, the boys had awed at the simplicity of her elegance. Overcome an initial phase of astonishment, of gulps that were more audible than his struggling attempts to say something, mumble a few words, Junpei had rambled about how she resembled a refined main heroine from those old black and white movies set in Rome.

She hadn’t been able to react the way she had intended to, taken aback by his lingering stupor, by all those hints making her understand he truly believed she was as graceful as an actress picked by Fellini and there was no one who could ever deny that.

Thus, the more she had echoed that bold comparison in her mind, the more she had found herself liking it, getting into character for fun and making the others exchange baffled glances. The preview of the incoming scenes had looked fascinating. On curtains appearing from nowhere and rolling down the sky to obscure the blinding Sun, she had marvelled at frames of her sitting before the Trevi Fountain, teasing its ripples along with the wind by wiggling her fingers just above them, gasping at its foam’s fog moistening the folds of her skirt.

In the end, in her reality, everything she had on, from her straw hat to her sandals, from the twine of the row of buttons, which broke the monotony of the whinteness, to the empty gap between her loosened belt and her flat belly had got wet, indeed, soaked under a petty summer shower.

Her life could be considered as a film just like Junpei had underlined, but he had evidently made a mistake about its genre: she wasn’t that sure about which it might be, though. In which kind of movie would the main character stand in front of a best friend of hers’, blushing furiously, embracing her chest with a protective gesture, despite having ascertained the worst hadn’t happened and he apparently wasn’t avoiding her spheres because of a matter of decency ? In a cheap one without any doubt, the cheapest ever shot in decades.

“May I ask what in the world you are thinking about so intensely? Allora?”

She didn’t expect him to go back to her so fast. Those thoughts of his he seemed to have no intention to reveal must have got to the roof at that point. Nevertheless, bolts aren’t supposed to return to the roaring expanse they have been hurled from. When they had deluded themselves the sky looked so near it might welcome them back thanks to a prodigy, they had been sent back to the ground, forced to discharge their thrilling, devastating energies on whatever or whoever they had happened to strike. There was no possibility to transgress Mother Nature law’s commandments.

“Uh, about a bit of this and that,” Evasive at first, seemingly confident he could escape from her by making his pupils tiptoe away, he was ambushed by a belligerent blast of ponentino abruptly barging in. It opened both the doors of the entrance with a rough slap and caught him in its implacable current, effortlessly sweeping his spirit, as resistant as a boulder just like he was, back where it was supposed to be. The temporizing Junpei had no choice but to surrender. He had to speak. “I was telling myself that if there is nothing to do about it, it means I will play along with it.”

The Moon of his Cheshire cat grin rose and reflected its mystery over the agitated waves of a green sea. That time it dropped an object that was as light as a feather and trusted those crystalline depths with its extreme fragility.

Once face to face with a very familiar building and its even more familiar porch, Izumi couldn’t keep herself from grabbing, or better, trying grabbing the ticket. Actually, showing to own rather snappy reflexes, Junpei’s palm promptly pulled away from her sight to make her grip grasp at nothing else but thin air.

“Ah, ah, ah, if you touch it, you will spoil everything,” He shook his index in comical disapproval, making her clasp her hands in delight at the realization of what she was assisting to: in spite of that sibylline admonition, the haughtiness suddenly enveloping him, evoked by a pose holding a bizarre kind of sloppy grace only someone like him could emanate, his emphasized tone reminding her of a narrator telling children about a scary wolf eating people in one bite were just unmistakable. “You mustn’t do that, eh eh,” And add those naughty chuckles to the picture too, because he was a particular amateur magician laughing about his tricks even more than his audience usually would.

“Ok, then. What do you want me to do?” Just like when they were kids, it took not even a second for her to get excited about what he had in store, feeling like clapping in merry anticipation and almost forgetting she was in a place swarming with strangers.

That time it seemed Junpei would need her full concentration. He didn’t really give her any explanation about what he wanted her to do, but she could guess the whole magic was going to revolve around that ticket. There was no card she would have to pick from a deck, no meaningless ritual formula at whose rhythm their tongue would have to dance at the unison. Only that ticket, wrinkled because of his fidgeting and sweat. Why was he so nervous? He should have known she wouldn’t be disrespectful in his regards, if the result of his spell wouldn’t be what he was desiring it to be like, if that poor, crumpled ticket remained there and, -who knew what he was planning!-, didn’t get replaced by some flower and its lilac petals.

Obviously, they would be lilac: after seven birthdays united by the memory of lovely boxes adorned with huge lillac ribbons and presents manufactured by him, each of them being painted with the hues of early dawns, she could recognize he knew what her favourite colour was.

Though he hadn’t told her to do so, she spontaneously closed her eyes and breathed in a sweet scent only she could smell, because carried by gusts blowing from the far land of a dream.

Meanwhile, too focused on his immense feat, Junpei made the ticket swing from right to left and viceversa at an increasing speed, movement those trembles provoking spasms even in the core of his chest didn’t luckily hinder.

“Ok…Now you see a ticket,” She heard him chanting in a way too theatrical fashion, but his intonation, along with those consecutive stresses hopping from a syllable to the other, soon grew persuasive enough to build a crescendo of hype in her body and soul, a tenuous formication marching on her whole frame with muffled steps, as if she was made of snow. “But nothing is what it seems. If I make the ticket come here and go there, come back here and return there, you will get to see what your eyes couldn’t until now. And…Sorupuresa!”

Sorpresa.

She wasn’t disappointed not to have been greeted by a violet at her awakening, but she didn’t react at what Junpei had called surprise in his butchered italian with one of her, Commozione!

“Eh, eh,” Junpei wasn’t either. Indeed, he had apparently predicted the failure of his special effects and the final result, putting on the mask of an imperturbable jester to try covering his awkwardness in vain. “Surprise, uh? Surprise might not be the right term to use. It’s not like you are into this stuff.”

Unbeknownst to him, to those bleak fantasies his negativity was burdening his cheerfulness with, Izumi had just been left lost for words. She fairly gave him the wrong impression she was vexed with him, so repulsed by his game, terribly pensive, but ,actually, she wasn’t thinking about anything substantial because her brain had turned a blank sheet, a tabula rasa. Therefore, she limited herself to gingerly reach out again, this time being allowed to touch the ticket, or better, that second ticket which had materialized from nowhere, and free it from the weight of Junpei’s thumb.

It was a copy of the first one, its twin. They were identical with the same title in bold , the same photo of the outside of the theatre, the same scarlet background reminding her of a red carpet, the same frame edged with golden which gave them an aura of unexplainable, sophisticated preciousness, -no matter the miserable state of Junpei’s-.

It was so obvious.

“You bought another ticket for me.”

…

…

Still, for some reason, her statement had sounded more like a question, confused and diffident, ellipsis opening a window to let her discover what else the wind and the leaves ,with no destination just like her spirit, wanted to tell her.

“I wonder what I would have done, if I had messed that up again”.

She landed back into her present with a thump. The recollection of those loquacious gusts she hadn’t got to listen to mixed with a rumble she couldn’t understand where it might come from at the beginning, disrupting the carefreeness of a Carnival of pink and azure but never physically showing up to crash the party. The thunderstorm was as chatty as them. It wanted to talk to her and it had a lot to say too, though she wasn’t used to its booming, to translating its roar into a human language without having to ask it to repeat it.

“Uh?”

“My magical trick. I’m glad you liked it because it has been the first time I have succeeded. At home I tried with some pens. Maybe it was too long as an object to practice with and that was why the duplication never worked as it should.”

In a strong dejà-vú, in the vice of some kind of cursed time loop, she abruptly shook herself out of her physical and mental torpor with an involuntary twitch of her fingers, paper rounded edges peeling against their tips. After having attempted to reproduce that hectic sway, determined to find out what was the ingenious mockery behind that stunning enchantment, -How? How had he managed to do that?!-, her ticket had wilted, had grown soggy like a biscuit dipped in milk, its side eaten by her sticky touch.

“But oh! Wait! Why would I say something so embarrassing in front of Izumi-Chan?! Ah…! I-I hope you liked it, Izumi-Chan…”

“Shhh, Junpei! Perfavore !” She would have added so much more to that sibilant scolding just to ignore and suppress another unmistakable guttural hiss slithering towards them, making its way avoiding the low yet heavier musical phrases. Anything not to begin feeling like shrinking in her chair, not to die of embarrassment. Ehm, it was more appropriate to call it second-hand embarrassment! Because she wasn’t the one who had been bothering that man with her incapacity to adjust the volume of her voice!-.

“I’m so sorry, Izumi-Chan! I did it again.”

If only there had been more light; if only she could have found his face as easily as she had…A while before: she would have seriously stuck a whole fist in his mouth! In the absence of valid alternatives that could give her such a sense of satisfaction, she had to settle for squeezing that unlucky ticket as hard as she could, frozen in the expectation for a debacle of historic proportions, a heated discussion in the middle of a violin concerto.

But, needless to specify, the fire never broke out, no door ever opened behind them, either. The old man obviously, -and fortunately-, mattered more about listening to the melody of a melancholy winter than wasting that cathartic experience arguing with two foreigner who had no respect for the miracle music was to human life. Most likely, he had cooled his anger with a huff, had glared at her, - so he believed he had, at least-, for a last time and had faded in the inscrutability of the blackness once more. Izumi didn’t calculate how long she had been sitting still, but when her body began complaining about that unnatural immobility, she melted that general tightness right away. Unless the man was struggling to take off one of his shoes without being able to see where he was exactly putting his hands, she could sigh out of relief, certain her reputation would be safe and sound.

Look at what kind of trouble I will get into because of you!

She had survived to the storm. Again. Still, may that be the last time it happened!

“That man should know better. It’s rude to tell a woman to shut up,” And speaking of which, Junpei’s indignant grunt and the rustling of what clearly sounded like shirt sleeves being rolled up sturdy arms were surely going to bode ill. Her resolution to cherish that fluke by not throwing it away in the span of a single second like that was so impetuous, as much as a hurricane, the impact against his shoulder and something else he instantly snatched away occurred without her having to grope in the dark.

“Now, now, where were we? Ah right, the magical trick,” She was pushed downwards along with the sagging of his muscles. A hint of tension, however, still lingered within them. She could sense it under her palm, a rigidity that was in stark contrast with the softness of the area, closer to the inflexibility of bones than the malleability of flesh. So precisely, carefully in detail. It almost felt like she could describe that feeling because it was changing her own body to the core; because it was more hers than his. Perhaps, it felt both simultaneously due to those pins and needles irradiating from him to her. Again. Right when they had finally started vanishing like she wanted them to! “Well, to be honest with you, I would like it better ,if you explained me how you did that.”

“That wouldn’t be fair, Izumi-Chan. A magician never reveals his greatest tricks. He’s just like a chef never divulging his secret recipe.”

“This isn’t fair, either!” It dawned on her Junpei had never turned down a request of hers until that evening. Once, even more incorrigible than usual, exploiting the fact they had remained all alone to rattle on an avalanche of pointless stuff, he had stammered he would give her the Moon as present, if it was possible, because he could tell how intriguing and marvelous it was to her. If she still had Fairymon’s wings she would set off for the night firmament, he was so right. Back then, she had just given him a nudge right into his stomach and had walked past him, unable to find a worthy continuation to his foolishness, feeling so…Small, minuscule just like she would before the magnificence of a full Moon, totally unsuitable as object of that overbloated admiration.

And yet, he couldn’t give her that, couldn’t whisper in her ear where that ticket had been hiding before coming out in the open. How stupid was he! And how stupid was she too, following that train of thoughts without refusing to. She got the confirmation in a place where sight was mostly useless, her other sensorial perceptions seemed to have really been boosted, especially the ones tied to her conscience’s roaming.

His chirping could ring in her ears differently as well, like the vibration of a robust cello wanting to weave stories about an endless spring retaining hints of wintry reticence here and there.

“But ,you know, if I wanted to I wouldn’t be able to give you an exhaustive answer. I really don’t know how I managed to make it. It’s not like I don’t remember, I just don’t know what I did that was so different from before! My hand went here, then there, I followed the script like always and, puff! The tickets were two and I was as baffled as you looked”.

“I-I wasn’t expecting you would give me a ticket,” She admitted with faint awkwardness, obviously omitting -it goes without saying-, the unnecessary detail of the flower. While she was absently rolling some ruffled locks, that sticker left on the tall pile of her thoughts was whirling like them and progressively losing its petals one after the other, new butterflies surfing on the waves of the wind; of the galloping ones of the ponentino.

Suddenly, there was a shift.

To the audience of the theatre it was the one of the clock hands, their overlapping on a glowing number announced by an imperceptible clicking sound; the cessation of the music represented by the gentle thud of the first violin in the crook of a velvet arm; the unearthly silence. To her, instead, it was that mischievous blowing and the goosebumps it brought along, thar bouncing brush of her hair against her skin, that whiff of laughters tickling her lobes.

And, again and again, Junpei’s ever-changing voice, distant, so distant, from the chanted poetry of the winds of the world, but still greatly appreciated by them. That was what was her orbs could see, the only beings standing out quite crisply in the last minute of the illusion of the night: lively puffs of air dancing around him like virtuous nymphs.

“I know you weren’t. I wasn’t as well, in a certain sense ah ah. I told you. Maybe, it was because you were there. Yeah! I didn’t make a fool of myself thanks to you. I’m sure of that,” Firstly his pitch got lower, much lower, almost making him sound like someone Izumi didn’t know, then, all of a sudden, completely surpassing an intermediate level, it shrank into the squeaking of some dog toy. Izumi’s teasing sarcasm and its arrogance risked to be crushed by that elevator.

“T-This might be the most original, nonsense excuse I have ever heard.”

“No, Izumi-Chan. I would never lie to you, it’s the truth. I just thought about you, about how I wanted to spend…Yeah, the conclusion of this holiday with you, because I had so much fun visiting the Colosseo in two, trying that special gelato from that cafè, tasting yours, letting you taste mine as well, chatting with you in the hall of the hotel before going to bed. I wanted more of that but I had given up, until you were caught in the storm and you seeked shelter below the porch. I thought it was sign of Fate! Now, though, I’m afraid I’ve been selfish... With you here, this has been better than any Rossini I might ever listen to, but it hasn’t been to you. You would have preferred going to the stadium with Takuya and Tomoki or to the museum with the twins. I-I-“

While he had gone through half of that week the crew had spent in Rome, she had let herself be taken back in time along with his gab. Dragged to all those memories, to all those chances to watch opera Junpei had thrown away to stay with her. The first late afternoon the group had split, that moment each of them had agreed about the impossibility to satisfy everyone’s interests and wishes, she had spotted Junpei carefully reading a poster attached to the glass of the bus shelter. Once he had heard her approaching him, he had turned to her and had asked her about where she intended to go. Like that, with a large grin, without further questions and second thoughts, he had tagged along with her, no matter where she had planned to head for. As long as he was with her, -he had said among sheepish chuckles-, he would be happy, words she had quietly made slip by with a shrug as she couldn’t see any harm in letting him come along, especially if she considered she would have been alone if he had had other plans. Junpei might be noisy and more often than rarely he would make her wish she could hide her head in sand like an ostrich would, but he could offer a nice company at the same time. A very enthusiastic one… She had no doubts those memories they, only they shared still felt alive in her heart because of that overemphasized excitement of his latched on them: his yells joining hers in their cacophony to cheer for Takuya at the stadium; the extinguishing fire of the Sun inflaming the ruins of the Colosseum and making his spheres shine so intensely as the rays bathing a summer day; the delicious taste of that long spoon filled with pistacchio e cioccolato he had made easily slide between her lips; all those conversations about this and that she could perfectly remember, the fresco of the bustling Rome in background looking more vibrant, a riot of colours, at her occasional glances.

She had been happy too, she had enjoyed herself as if she was a solitary drop of ponentino, mocking herself but also smiling at herself at her own motley trails guiding her decisions.

“There is a door behind us,” She breathed to Junpei who had got further from her to clap the violinist and the orchestra. “If I had got that bored, rest assured I would have used it.”

The night came to an end, but she took advantage of the lingering penumbra offered by the dangling red drapes. Hidden below them, blending in the thunderous applause of the entire theatre, she shortened the gap between them by getting closer and closer to him. Then, she leaned forward, stretched her neck and…She did it.

She placed her lips on his puffy cheek. Just a little peck on his soft skin. It lasted longer than the first as she was no longer scared by that electrostatic energy bursting in her whole body, without prior warning, darting through her veins and nevers to elicit every millimeter of her organism. Yet, it still was as fleeting as a butterfly perching on her favourite flower and taking off immediately afterwards, before someone could catch her.

Thus, she parted from him. And she noticed it, indeed, them.

“Izumi-Chan, what is it?” When the curtain closed, he raised an eyebrow at her, once more incredibly oblivious to what she had just done.

“Oh nothing, nothing…Non è…Niente.”

“What does it mean nothing?! You are-“!On impulse, he stood up making his chair fall backwards. Her giggles got even more uncontrollable as she saw him going back and forth, unable to make up his mind, understand if it was more important to tidy that mess or pay attention to her purple blush; or also grab her bag to hand it to her and rush to the door to open it for her-.

He eventually opted for the last choice, gasping at the sight of her reaching the knob before he could and dropping the chair on the spot. She was aware she would absolutely need to avoid to look at him as much as she could if she didn’t want to seriously upset him, so she had walked past him with the intention to get to the foyer before him, constantly making an effort to keep a…Holy distance.

Oh, poor Junpei.

“Ladies first!”

“Oh perfavore, now,” The way his exaggeratedly polite gesture made her eyes roll was fitting for her situation: diverting her gaze, bowing at him with a genuinely-flattered “grazie” pronounced with her orbs closed, ignoring his so content facial traits.

Everything was going smoothly until in the crowd, among the people thronging the corridors and the stair, a distinguished man holding a fedora hat against his chest arrested his march to frown at them. His mustache covering the accentuated curve of his strict wince, he gave them a long stare Junpei exchanged with equal animosity.

“Cosa c’è ?” He drily spat at that stranger he had seen an hour before in the foyer, waiting for the spectacle to start with statuesque composure.

Worried about what it might happen, Izumi tried pushing Junpei to a side despite already knowing well she stood no chance to make that bear Junpei was move not even a millimeter. She brainstormed about an improvised justification to frantically mutter to the intimidating man, but she soon found herself tripping against Junpei’s hip.

The man kept on focusing on Junpei, inspecting him from head to toe, dwelling on his face and then…

“Oh…Mio Dio,” His austerity falling like a tower of cards, to Junpei’s and Izumi’s confusion, he went away leaving behind exhilarating snickers. Junpei wasn’t fairly puzzled, though. He was flabbergasted and Izumi did expect he would ask her for explanations. He was a rather clever person, despite anything.

“Izumi-Chan, do I have something on my face?”

“What kind of something?”

“Something that makes people burst in laughters when they look at me, I guess,” She gave her best not to explode in an attack of giggles once more at him stepping closer. Insisting on asking her to tell him what was going on, he pulled his cheeks as if that would really help her check the area better and wouldn’t just make him resemble a glutton hamster.

“I…don’t see anything,” She was persevering too, but she might be a terrible actress, in truth, if he was analyzing her nonchalant expression so skeptically. It was so strange to acknowledge he could question her words sometimes. She was certain he wouldn’t believe she had done what she had without making him realize, even though just like what he had claimed about his magical trick, she didn’t know how that had been possible.

And I…Wonder…, She dared to venture in a legitimate doubt, repeatedly stumbling as she dug through it, getting bogged down as she strived to give it a complete and refined form, until her legs, no, she just gave up. She remained where she had landed, resigned yet content, relaxing in that sense of acceptance the calm breaths were caressing her heart with. Her own wind, her own spirit reassured her it was fine, and since she wasn’t sure what it was specifically talking about, she set it free. No need for further explanations about something whose identity and meaning was obscure.

For now, it really was fine.

“Hm, well, there is a mirror in the foyer. I will check in there.”

For now it really was, as long Junpei didn’t find out.

“Junpei-!” She panicked, her hands swooping in her bag to grab a bunch of handkerchiefs. In leaps, she chased his silhouette and dropper some of them in the process. She reached out in the direction of his cheek, pressing the tissue against it when she still hadn’t aligned her pace with his.

“Izumi-Chan, what are you doing?!” Though he didn’t push her back, he reasonably complained about her tentative rubbing plasming his chubby features like pottery.

“What have you eaten before coming here? You have got some cream here and here too.”

“W-Where? I didn’t eat anything sweet. I swear!”

…

Two lilac butterflies. There were two lilac butterflies on one of his cheeks. The pair of the first outstretched on the one of the second looked like the petals she had been daydreaming since she had stepped in that theatre.

She might not be the great actress he believed she could become, but she undoubtedly was a fantastic magician, as fantastic as him, with secrets she would never reveal.

Or so she thought, at least.

XXX

Italian notes:

•Ponentino: it is a wind typical of Lazio and Toscana, very frequent in Rome. It is considered as a naughty stronger breeze blowing over people in love to act as a matchmaker ahaha.

• Chissà: it’s a sort of “who knows”, very mischievous in some contexts.

• Antonio Vivaldi: Composer from Baroque age. The violìn concerto Izumi and Junpei are assisting to features Le Quattro Stagione (The four Seasons). The story starts when the orchestra is playing Estate, (Summer), which has got a movement echoing the dramatic dance of a thunderstorm.

• Nel blu dipinto di blu: It’s a song by Domenico Modugno, the VOLAREEEEE cementing a part of our identity as a country loving music.

• Gioacchino Rossini: One of three Belcanto opera composers along with Bellini and Donizetti. Rossini is a very particular genius of our lyrical panorama. His music is brilliant, witty, so funny, I can see Junpei enjoying it very much.

• Allora? : It’s a kind of “So?”

• Fellini: Federico Fellini was a film-maker, one of the most important in the whole world. Some of his masterpieces are La Strada, which we fondly remember along with its soundtrack composed by Nino Rota, 8½, and, dulcis in fundo, la Dolce Vita to which I’ve given a very small homage in my own style lol.

• Cioccolato and pistacchio: Simply chocolate and pistache ahahahah.

• Oh mio Dio: your “Oh my God”.

• Cosa c’è?: “What’s the matter?”

[hootfort]

one hit update when??

Hi gamers!

So, if you've interacted with me in any sort of passive way, you'll probably know my life is always some sort of trainwreck. I've had a chapter (well, multiple, given their length) of One Hit ready to go since I last updated, but life has gotten in the way.

For the people who have left comments, sent asks, or messaged me and not received a response, I'm sorry. I see pretty much everything, but mentally, it's hard to find the energy to reply in a manner that feels fair to you. I want to meet you with the same attention and care that you have shown me, but my brain hasn't been up to it.

TL;DR - One Hit will get updated now that it's summer. I can't promise when, but I promise that it will happen. I'm studying at a place that lied to my face and has driven me to my limit, not academically but mentally. Picking up the pieces and creating a future that I can survive is exhausting, but I'm getting there. The lovely messages and comments are often the highlights of my month, and I am utterly grateful for all of your kindness. All of you are wonderful, and this fandom has been one of the driving forces for me to reach the finish line.

In no particular order, I was and still am enduring a lot of harassment/discrimination in my academic life. It's to the point where I'm facing the very real prospect of having to move to another university to continue my education beyond my current degree, but this final year and the state of my department is... a lot. I'm dealing with the aftermath of turning against a nonprofit that got me started with writing; the cornerstone of my identity since 2017 is in shambles, and that organisation was why I went to university to study what I do.

I don't want to out myself too hard here, but I cannot emphasise how crushing the sequence of events has been. Everything that we were promised when enrolling in this place was a lie. When I last updated, I was attempting to get out of a predatory internship that I had to quit THREE SEPARATE TIMES, and this was an internship shared by my university. I was being felt up, for lack of a better explanation, by a former driving instructor who took thousands of pounds from my family and utterly destroyed my self-confidence and my trust in the world. A large part of who I am and who I want to be is gone, and reconciling that has been difficult.

So, yeah. My life has been a mess. For more reasons than this, but those are my biggest feelings.

I'm getting there. I'm not even sure this is all pertinent information, but I logged into Tumblr and saw all of these alerts, and I feel like I owe it to people to tell them why I was gone. Because I love this fandom, I love the people in it. I love your art, your fanfics, and the countless other things that you do for a world that can seem so dark.

The world is lucky to have you guys in it, and I really want to thank you profusely for what you've done for my life, even if it wasn't visible through updates. My little corner of the internet makes me so happy, and it brings me great peace and comfort to know that now I've survived hell, I can enjoy hanging around a little more for now.

Fingers crossed that it won't take me forever to update this time.

- Min :)

[monstersandmaw]

how are you doing, ghosti? do you have any goals for the rest of this year? would love to hear them :)

Ooh, what a sweet and thoughtful question, thank you! I love it when I get non-monster related asks too :)

(Mention of dementia in parent ahead, and issues with self-esteem and value):

I’m doing… not so great, to be honest. I’m going through one of the toughest family situations I’ve ever found myself in, and there’s no cure or fix. My step-dad (but father figure in all but blood, since he raised me) has mixed dementia (Alzheimer’s and vascular) and it’s harrowing to watch his condition deteriorating on a visit-by-visit basis, both mentally and physically. We don’t know how long he has left, and it’s just awful watching him losing pieces of himself to this insidious, creeping disease. He went to Cambridge on scholarship, and taught English literature and set exam papers for his career, and he was so articulate and intelligent all his life, and now he’s dribbling food down his front, is frightened by his condition, can’t remember how (or when) to go to the toilet, and doesn’t really know that he has three other daughters, or that I’m married, etc. etc. I’m trying to support my mum too, and worrying about her, while also sort of trying to live my own life, as he would have wanted me to.

A friend of mine from university got married this past weekend, and I was reminded of all the things I didn’t manage to accomplish in my life, and all the paths I didn’t take, when confronted with a lot of very ‘successful’ and (seemingly) contented and fulfilled people my own age. My self confidence took a real hit, and I then had a puncture on the way home, and had to drive down to deal with getting my dad to an appointment the next day, and I’m still recovering to be honest. I know I’ve achieved some things - built a successful following here and had a Patreon and people like my writing - but nothing went the way I wanted it to, and I can’t help feeling like a failure in many ways.

On a more optimistic note, my goals for the rest of the year, aside from managing my mental health better, are to get my fitness back on track. I want to tone up a bit, shift the weight I’ve been putting on over the last five years, and to work on my balance and flexibility. I’m doing more yoga again, which has been great.

I’d like to do more videos for YouTube - started filming a new project today as it happens, which is fun. I also want to get back into writing in more of a fixed schedule. I miss it, and I’ve got projects I want to see through (Gabe & Odessa re-edit/write, the Minotaur retelling, and a few fae related stories for example).

I’d also like to do more writing specifically for this audience I’ve built on here (monster lovers), since my other projects and stuff on Instagram isn’t really of interest to 99.9% of my followers here, it seems.

Thank you for asking, sweet Anon! I hope that wasn’t too much of an overshare for you, and I also hope that you’re doing ok.

What are your goals? Maybe it’ll inspire me or someone else?

[501st-rexster]

HERE IT IS

So I got a confidence boost and finally finished the first part of the first chapter of the Western AU.

I really hope people like this, I have spent a long time working on the story and have had a lot of fun writing it. But for now, here's the first part!

Outlaw For Truth

TW: Mild swearing, drinking, death, graphic description of injuries, ANGST

WC: 2,718

No one ever said being an officer of the law was easy. 

No one ever warned that you'd be falsely accused of murder, arrested by the very people you try to protect, and be forced to team up with an outlaw to find your best friend’s killer all while evading an unrelenting mule of a man and a rattler that would like nothing more than to see your blood stain the dirt.

And no one ever told Deputy Rex Ward that he'd go through such an ordeal he'd be within inches of his life more times than he could count in less than a month.

No one could have possibly prepared him for Cody Fett’s death.

Wild West, South Dakota, 1896

“Is the coffee maker fixed yet, Rex?” 

The Deputy sighed heavily, glancing over at the Sheriff that sat with his boots up on his desk, chewing aggressively on a toothpick. “No, Cody, it’s not going to be fixed since the last time you asked me twenty minutes ago. We still haven't gotten a new replacement for the broken bottom.” He retorted as he ran a polishing cloth over the barrel of his Whitworth rifle. “If you're real desperate, why don'tcha stick a can outside and put some crushed beans in there. I'm sure it'll taste fine.” He snickered.

Sheriff Cody Fett took the toothpick from his mouth and sighed heavily before he flicked it at his friend with a smirk. “That attitude ain’t changed one bit since we were kids, has it?”

Deputy Rex Ward rolled his eyes when the toothpick hit his knee. He cracked a smile at his senior officer. “You’re the one who chose me for a Deputy, sir,” he pointedly sneered the name. “You had your choice of the other officers, but you chose your best friend. Means you have to deal with all the attitude I come with. Not my fault you make poor decisions.”

Cody tilted his Stetson hat down to create a better shadow over his eyes as they narrowed ever so slightly, the golden glow shining in the late afternoon sunlight that snuck in the window, outlining his thin lipped grin. “Watch it, you son of a bitch, or I’ll have to string you up one of these days.” He joked.

Rex opened his mouth to say something when another voice beat him to words. “Can’t you two go one day without poking at each other? Ain’t you got better things to do?” Asked Officer Jesse Brooks as he walked in, adjusting the black and white bandana around his neck. “Can’t believe you two still bicker like a pair of badgers fightin’ over a rattlesnake.” He muttered.

Rex kicked back and tilted his head as he leaned his rifle against his desk, shrugging the shoulders of his navy blue jacket. “Ah, come on, Jess, we’re not nearly that aggressive. Now, you get Cody and that bastard Fox Gray in the same room…” He snickered as he cast a mischievous glance over at his best friend.

Sheriff Fett sighed. “You’re not talking about that duel we had a few years back, are you?” His tone held a hint of exasperation, even more so when Rex nodded. “Yeah, well, he shoulda known not to mess with me. He’s lucky I didn’t put a bullet through his forehead.”

“No, you just put one in his shoulder instead.”

“Enough, Rex.”

Jesse couldn’t help but smile at the usual banter between the two officers of the law. In the three years he’d worked with them as an officer for the town of Yankton, he had learned within the first month that Cody Fett and Rex Ward had been friends since they were boys, only age eight, and had sworn to protect each other for life. They were like brothers to each other. Now, twenty five years later, they sat at the highest seats in town, willingly burdened with the safety of their people. And they’d done a fantastic job of protecting everyone. The amount of outlaws and ne’er-do-wells they’d put behind bars rivaled anyone in the history of the town.

Jesse hung his vest on the rack near the door; the early afternoon sun, despite the late season, still scorched the town. The Officer removed his holster from his belt and set it on the desk as he fell into his chair. He grabbed the metal cup of water and took a long swig before leaning his head back and blowing a hard breath through his lips.

The Deputy spun his custom Colt Revolver in his hand, backwards then front, then backwards again. “Y’alright, Jess? You look a little tired.”

“Have you been outside today, sir? It’s gotta be ninety bleedin’ degrees out! Ain’t even a slight bit airish!” He then shook his head. “But that’s less important’n what I been hearing. We been getting reports of mysterious threats bein’ left on folks’ doors,” he said far more seriously.

The Sheriff sat up straight. “Someone’s threatening the people?” Asked Cody, clearly ready to swing at whoever might be winding up to hurt his townsfolk.

Jesse hesitated, then shook his head. “Well, not exactly. They’re getting threats, but not aimed at them. Seems almost everyone’s gotten a threat that was aimed at you.” He nodded to his Sheriff.

Rex turned his head to his best friend with wide eyes only to find a faint smile on Cody’s face. “That ain’t anything new. Same thing happened a few years back, remember, Rex?”

The Deputy chuckled. “Found out it was some kids playin’ a prank. Boy, did they spend time working that off.” 

Jesse hesitated. “There has been word of a few new outlaws in the area, though. Maybe one’s set his sights on our town.”

Rex narrowed his amber eyes, his pistol stopping in his hand to be held at the ready. “Then they’d be messing with the wrong men. Anyone threatens Fett, they mess with me, too. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to him as long as I’m around.”

“Ever the optimistic one, aren’t you, Ward?” The sly voice came from the door, and Rex groaned, dropping his head back as he holstered his pistol.

“No one asked you, ya uppish mule,” snarled Rex. The words brought a snort of entertainment from both the Sheriff and Jesse. The Military Captain’s eyes narrowed and he stalked over to Rex’s desk, his boots clacking on the creaky wooden floor, to plant his hands on the oak top. His eyes bored into the Deputy, the large scar that ran over his right eye more vibrant in the limited light.

“I know you feel awful cushy in my old place, Ward. I don’t give half a mind what you have to say. You’ll always be a prudish boy who doesn't know his place.” the Captain said, silver eyes glaring down at the Deputy.

Rex slowly turned his head to the Captain, a faint smirk on his face. “Oh, I know my place, Wolffe. It’s right above you, where I belong. And you’ll refer to me with respect, else I’ll have your badge from the outpost.” He threatened.

Wolffe scoffed. “My badge? We all know it’s Fett’s badge you want!” He sneered.

Rex’s eyes sharpened in a millisecond. “What?” 

Cody sat up straight, eyebrows knit with confusion. Wolffe laughed. “Come off it, Deputy. I know you want to be Sheriff. You want all the power-”

Before anyone could do anything, Wolffe found himself pinned against the wall, Rex’s hand tight around the collar of his gray jacket. His black boots were planted with one back and one pressed against Wolffe’s leg, keeping him secured, as if the daggers in his eyes wouldn't do that well enough. The Deputy’s face was wrought with fury. “Don’t you ever accuse me of wanting that. I’d follow Cody to the ends o’ the Earth, and he deserves every morsel of where he is. I’ve never wanted to be Sheriff, I’m content where I am, cuz I earned it. You’re making some pretty big talk for someone who failed at their job not long ago.”

Wolffe immediately tried to shove Rex’s hands away, but the man’s grip was like iron. Wolffe scoffed. “Still up on that high horse, Deputy. You’ll know your place one day.” 

Rex shoved Wolffe back against the wall before he dropped the man’s shirt from his hands and stepped back. “I told you. I know my place.” He stepped back to his desk and picked up his black Stetson, slipping it on with a huff of air. His rifle was lifted into his hand, grip tight on the stock, then he started towards the door. “It’s at our Sheriff’s side.” He reached the door and pushed it open, letting the early afternoon sun blanket him in light before he turned his head to halfway face the Captain. His golden eyes were masked under the shadow of his hat, but they still held a determined sheen to them. “It always will be.”

The moment after Rex left, Cody leaned back in his chair, his boots once again up on his desk as he smirked at Wolffe. “I woulda thought you’d have learned by now, Captain. Ward isn’t a person you mess with. And should you ever question his integrity again, I’ll personally drag you to the stocks.”

After Wolffe angrily adjusted his jacket and stormed to the back towards the records he was there to receive, Cody chuckled slightly then looked out the window to see his friend mount his horse and trot down the street to start his patrol. “I’ve got yer’ back, brother. And I know you’ve got mine.”

Later that day, as Cody was slipping on his jacket, ready to head out, he heard the sound of boots coming up the steps and he turned to see Rex walk back into the building. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“You’ve been gone a while. Did your patrol go well?” His head tilted. “Or were you spending all that time steamin’ about Wolffe?”

Rex’s fist clenched and he shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “I could never fully express how much I hate him.” 

Cody scoffed. “You two have hated each other for years. Ever since you met the guy, you’ve hated him.”

Rex leaned against the doorjamb. “Something ‘bout him rubs me the wrong way. He’s a self-entitled jackass, Cody. I just-” His lips pursed in a frown and Cody sighed. He clipped his holster to his belt then walked to his friend’s side and slung his arm around Rex’s shoulder. 

“Brother, you can’t be letting him get to you like that. Sure, he drives us nuttier n’ a blackfly in June, but you’re the one he should be worried about. You’ve got the quickest draw in the land, and with those barking irons,” he nodded to the pistols holstered on Rex’s belt. “Folks know not to mess with you.” He knocked his head against Rex’s causing their hats to go askew. “And don’t listen to what he said. I know you’ll always be at my side. That junk about you after my badge-”

Rex shook his head. “Cody, I don’t know what the hell was in his head, but-”

“Hey, I know you’d never do that.” The grin that shone like the sun broke out on Cody’s face. His hand pressed against Rex’s chest. “This right here? This is the purest person I know. You don’t ever have to worry about me thinkin’ bad of you, cuz there’s nothing to think of. You’re my best friend, Rex. My brother. Always have been, always will be. I won’t take slander from some brown-nosed Captain who thinks he’s better’n you.” He nudged Rex with his shoulder and finally drew a smile from his Deputy. “C’mon. Let’s go for a drink.”

Rex grinned at his best friend. “Don’t gotta ask me twice.

Five minutes later they walked into the saloon where the barkeep looked up and grinned at them. “If it ain’t my two best customers. What’ll it be today, boys? Whiskey? Bourbon?” Mayday asked, and Rex chuckled as they sat down after waving at a few of the locals.

“Gimme your strongest, Mayday, I gotta get something off my mind.” 

Mayday turned around and started pouring a glass of the strongest whiskey he had, smirking as he did. “Something, or someone?” He wondered. Cody snickered at the question.

Rex rolled his eyes. “Captain Wolffe. Every time I see that bastard I want to slug him in the face. And his brother ain’t any better. He’s SO much worse. That snake drives me insane.” Rex took an immediate sip of the whiskey as soon as it was placed in front of him. Cody glanced up at Mayday.

“I’ll have my usual. Bourbon and rum.” He then glanced at Rex. “Look, I know you’ve always hated them, but why do you hate them so much-”

“You serious?” Rex turned to Cody. “Have you forgotten what happened the first time we all met?” Cody sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement. “‘Sides, he’s a jerk, he’s stuck up, he’s heartless, he don’t care about anyone. The Gray brothers are bastards.”

Cody took a slow sip of his drink when Mayday handed it to him, then leaned on the counter. “Okay, I get it. You’ve always hated them. They’re not too high up on my list of folks I like, but you gotta realize Wollfe is just doin’ his job right?” Cody then hesitated before he started chuckling. “What the hell am I defending him for, I hate him too!” He then smirked deviously with a glance at his best friend. “And I ain’t ever thrown out a telegram so fast as the one I got from the Sheriff o’ Deadwood.”

Rex barked out a laugh. “You threw out a ‘gram from Fox and you ain’t even read it? Now that’s my kind of petty!”

Mayday leaned on the counter with a grin. “I’d love to see the day them Gray brothers get what they deserve. Fox an’ Wolffe? Ain’t never been two people less suited for law. I heard even the people in Fox’s town hate ‘im. And a few of the soldiers from the Outpost have come by here, inconspicuously, and gotten drunk over how much they hate it.”

Rex tilted his head. “Wait, they come here? Why not go to Dell Rapids, it’s closer, ain’t it?” Wondered the Deputy, but Mayday grinned.

“Yeah, it’s closer, but that bartender ain’t got an ear for dirt on people like I got. You know I got all the good info on everyone. Don’t matter if you’re from our town or not, I know shit. Besides, one of ‘em once said I make a better mixed drink and apparently my brandy tastes better.” Mayday shrugged. “Extra business and talk from the outpost. I ain’t complaining!”

Cody and Rex laughed and began to exchange enjoyable conversation, set up the next poker night, and talked about how good the hunting had been this year. Hours passed, and the local patrons slowly trickled out until it was just Cody and Rex. 

Mayday glanced at the clock and chuckled. “Alright, boys, I’m gonna hafta call it, it’s nearly eleven and you two have a town to take care of. Get yer asses home.” As the two lawmakers stood up after paying the tab, Mayday nodded at them and they nodded back. 

Cody slung his arm around Rex’s shoulder as they walked out, laughing with each other. They got to the main road, and Cody nodded towards the station. “Hey, I got a few more reports I gotta finish but I’ll see you tomorrow, brother. Bright and early.”

Rex knocked his head against Cody’s and pulled him close. “Always. Don’t work yourself too hard. I’ll see you tomorrow, brother.” They let each other go and parted ways, and as Rex walked down the moonlit street, he chuckled to himself.

He couldn’t ask for a better partner than Cody.

All that they had done together, the years they’d spent growing up as brothers and protecting each other, learning to hunt and working their way up the ranks to achieve their dreams of being lawmakers.

They had done everything together. Never alone. Always by one another’s sides.

And Rex couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

The next morning, Rex rode up to the station in the barely lit street, still in the early hours, when a small whinny made him glance up to see Cody’s horse, Trapper, tied at the post, stomping its feet. Rex’s eyebrow rose. Maybe Cody had come in early? He looked up at the station, but none of the lights were on. He chuckled to himself.

Cody had never gotten home. He fell asleep at his desk again.

Rex had always chided Cody on staying late and falling asleep at the department, but the man was so dedicated to his work it was hard to keep him from it.

As Rex dismounted his horse and led him closer, he noticed Trapper seemed anxious. Rex tied his stallion up and smiled at the beautiful Chestnut belonging to Cody. He rubbed a hand over Trapper’s neck. 

“Easy, boy. Easy. I’ll get you both some fresh water.” Rex walked to the well pump and filled up a bucket before he returned to the horses and poured the water into the low trough. Trapper hesitated, his head looking around warily and lingering on the department before he slowly lowered his head and began to drink. Rex smiled and ran his hand down his horse’s neck before turning towards the station.

He quietly walked up the steps and into the station, the floor creaking under his boots as the worn wood always did. Electing to leave the light off, he shed his jacket and dropped it on his desk as he walked over to Cody’s desk. He smirked when he saw Cody’s silhouette slumped with one arm stretched across his desk, his forehead leaning on his other. Rex chuckled again. “C’mon, Cody, it’s time for work.” He said, eyebrow rising at no visible response. He reached out his hand to shake Cody’s shoulder, but it was met with a wet feeling on Cody’s shirt. Rex drew back his hand quickly as he leaned on Cody’s desk only to feel more liquid on his hands. He fumbled for the lamp on the desk, then his breath stopped when the light was flicked on.

Blood covered his hands, splattered Cody’s desk, and pooled under his arms. Rex’s throat was so tight he could barely breathe as he reached out to lift his best friend’s head. “C-Cody?” His voice sounded like a little boy, leaning closer to Cody, then he fell back when he saw the bullet hole in Cody’s forehead, the blood that covered his face from open wounds, bruises that dotted his neck and spotted his cheeks, and his eyes, half-open and void of any life.

“N…No…” Rex collapsed to the floor, struggling to find any semblance of air in his lungs. He stared at his hands and his brother’s blood that wet them.

This couldn’t be happening.

Cody couldn’t be-

He couldn’t be dead. Rex couldn’t physically process it. Tears had started down his face and he shakily stood to kneel next to his best friend, reaching out his hand to touch Cody’s fluffy locks of hair. A sob escaped his lips and he fell forward, head pressed against the edge of Cody’s desk. “You can’t be gone… Cody…” He choked out. His hand remained on Cody’s head as he cried. “Come back to me…”

He suddenly jolted, realizing he needed to get help. He jumped and ran to the telephone, quickly spinning the rotary dial and calling the sheriff’s office in the next town over. As much as he absolutely hated to call him, he needed help. He listened to it ring and ring, then finally an answer came through, an irritated grumble.

“What the hell do you want, Ward?” Fox snarled. “It’s way too early.”

Rex let out a hard breath. “FOX! I-” He then hesitated. “Wait, how’d you know it was me?”

A small beat went by before Fox sighed. “You’re the only one who’s ever at the station this early. Now what do you want?”

Rex tried to steady his breathing. “Cody is dead… someone killed him last night, Fox!”

“What do you expect me to do about it?” The cold voice asked.

Rex’s eyebrows rose at the odd response. “What do I… Fox, Cody is DEAD! I expect you to come help me!” He demanded.

A small grunt was heard on the other end of the line. “Calm yerself, I’ll be there.”

Rex heard the phone click and he stared at the receiver for a moment. Fox had not taken the news like he thought he would.

But Rex didn’t have time to worry about that right now. He stood up and squeezed his eyes shut, looking over his shoulder at Cody’s body. “What do I do without you?” He barely whispered. His mind began to swirl and he slid to the ground, barely stabilizing himself with the table. His head pounded and he squeezed his eyes shut as his body began to shake. “I can’t do this without you…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alright, there's the first part of the first chapter!! I really hope this absolutely destroyed some people because I love demolishing people's hearts with my writing (it seems to be one of the few things I'm good at in life) Please let me know what you thought and if you want to read more once I finish the first chapter!