#oh sorry your too on the elderly side to beat up too

[oifaaa]

I know you prefer jason and Tim's "rivalry" to be Tim thinking everything's about him while jason doesn't know who he is (and I agree it's hilarious) I think for your time skip au, jason should totally knowing beef with Tim.

not for Robin reasons but since jason doesn't get to beat up his dad he should get to beat up someone else's dad and he heard one of the robins after him is a shit dad so this counts towards his catharsis

(he still doesn't actually know Tim's name)

Jason makes it his mission that since he can't beat up his own shite elderly dad he'll just have to make do by beating up everyone else's shite dad's this just so happens to include Tim and also Dick

[vagabond-umlaut]

meet you where the sky meets the earth

to love is to listen to your heart, not your brain. to dream whilst in love, is to make your brain listen to your heart.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; former teacher x former student [gojo is six yrs older than reader]; bittersweet fluff; you're so in love w satoru, it shd hurt- but it doesn't because you've grown numb to the ache; one-sided feelings [are they really?]; few mentions of food; gojo calls you 'cookie'; this is way too tender even for me, istg; 1.5k wc

▸ belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! 😊

▸ the header is from pinterest, the dividers are by @benkeibear, the characters used here aren't mine. pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this. hope y'all enjoy reading this ❤️❤️

the first time you think of marrying gojo, you're only twenty years old.

hardly the age to be dreaming of wedding bells at, right?

yeah, right. that's very, very right— still, your heart is your heart, just how your brain is your brain, the former easily swaying the latter by a few skipped beats— and you find your cheeks growing warm, laughs stumbling past your lips as you place the box of cornflakes into your shopping cart.

gojo sputters from beside you, eyes comically wide behind his shades as they dart from you to the elderly woman before.

you take a second to compose yourself before answering the ask that created this mess in the first place, a polite smile lining your face, "oh, no– not at all, ma'am! we're not married. i'm just an old friend helping him with the groceries, haha."

"oh," that's the only thing the woman says in reaction, kind smile now a tiny frown before it reappears. and she apologises, "i'm sorry, dears. just thought you two to be newlyweds from how giddy and loving you seemed to each other... time i went for an eye check-up, yes?"

"hey, please don't be sorry..." you start to say, but before you can get any further, the woman has already walked away with her shoppping basket.

you fall silent.

the same way the man next to you too has grown quiet, an awkward silence taking up the foot between you both. until you break it with a strained chuckle.

"we were acting giddy and loving to each other, eh?"

"were we?" comes the contemplative question to your comment. you look up to find gojo looking at you, the blue of his eyes weirdly bright in the dim lights of the supermarket as he repeats, "were we, cookie?"

yes. no. you don't really know—

yes, 'cause you know you love him.

not since forever, no, but close enough to it: your once-fascination for the supposed mortal deity of the jujutsu world, the mitochondrion on which the cellular structure of the society banks to survive; that grew into something made of wonder, respect and fondness, as you slowly came to know not only the icon but also the man behind it; that grew into something so profound, nestling deep within your existence– so much so that you feel the earth shifting on its axis everytime he calls you or grins at you or just looks in your direction—

no, 'cause you know you aren't loved back.

not the way you wish to be... not that you blame gojo for that, though!

you know he is way too busy to be thinking of such topics– what with being the strongest sorcerer ever, the head of the one-man gojo clan, the teacher to the first-years at tokyo high, the legal guardian– but in fact, the father figure to the two kids, 'gumi and 'miki– or maybe, just maybe, he is busy, alright, but not too busy— gojo simply doesn't see you that way; he sees you to be nothing but his former student— one he knows he can rely on to help with his children, or the groceries, or a variety of other menial daily tasks he can just hire help for—

you don't know.

yeah... you really, really don't know– and by now, you think you don't even want to know anymore. it's easy, it's safe, it's nice to remain not knowing. the word 'yes' comes with too many dreams– the word 'no' serves the perfect haven to nightmares.

the three words "i don't know" bear no such burden on their back– an untroubled answer you decide to offer, decide to escape using for the time being— until a slight knock on the head interrupts you, followed by an entertained set of chortles.

you peer up to find gojo beaming down at you, his eyes crinkled and cheeks dimpled. something twists in the middle of your chest, but it isn't painful; it's grounding. pleasant, even.

"it's too easy to get you worried, y'know? you're unbelievably easy to manipulate, heh."

"oh, am i now?" you retort, eyes narrowing into a cross glare– only to be betrayed by the fond smile grazing your lips not even a beat later. the man hums, grin simmering down to a knowing smile.

"mmhm," he says with that musical sway to his tone that never fails to make your fingers tingle, "you should have seen your face when i asked you the question– so pale and stiff– almost as if i was asking you to leave then and there, hearing that granny's comments—"

"you would have asked me to, if they were true– wouldn't you?"

gojo's smile vanishes in the blink of an eye. and you think the hand he has stretched out to the shelves of biscuits might fall too– but it does not, and you see him take a packet of your favourite bourbon biscuits followed by a packet of the digestives you've been forcing him to eat, and place them into the cart.

he checks the shopping list in your hand before he looks back at you.

before he smiles back at you: so soft, so solemn, so un-satoru— you instantly regret interrupting him with such a question.

but you do know how it is, don't you? what with a thudding heart and a thinking brain...

the handle of the cart digs deep indents into your palm as you press the weight of your worries into the cool metal and lean towards your companion on this grocery run, the same way a moth flies towards a flame, towards its doom–

"don't you ever dream of falling in love, gojo-san?" you let your voice drop to a murmur, audible only to you and the object of your desires, the subject of your worries, "do you not dream of a happily ever after with your 'one'– do you, gojo-san?"

"no," the response to your words comes in the very same instant. the man's shades slip a touch down the bridge of his nose as he pins his sharp gaze on you– though it can do nothing to hide the mild tremor in his grin from you when he says, "and i don't plan on dreaming ever. dreaming is only for fools with too much time to spare– do i look like a fool with too much time to spare, cookie?"

no. not at all. you don't. you look the farthest from it, in fact— is what you know you should say, and just drop the matter. for now. forever—

but you don't... just don't.

retorting instead, still a murmur but with the faint lick of a fire now, "and what do you suggest should be done to those fools, gojo-san? punished severely for their grievous crime of dreaming, hm?"

"oh, don't be too harsh," he tuts with a breezy chuckle, "what people do is honestly their business; one i've got no interest in interfering in— but..." his grin twists into something wry, a change you find tough to tear your gaze away from, "i don't think i would give such folks the time of my day– it's simply not worth it to talk with those whose feet are not on the solid ground, floating around meaninglessly in air–"

"why are you talking with me then?"

interrupted, gojo blinks. once, and twice, then thrice.

you watch your face crumple in the dark tint of his shades, withering and cracking in the dull light and stale air of this stupid supermarket; but definitely not as stupid as you:

messing things up when they're perfectly fine and alright, only 'cause you do not, rather cannot, keep your mouth shut, no matter what– all your inhibitions let gone of as your heart gains control over your brain and your stupid damned mouth—

you feel a tiny knock on your forehead, the second time this evening, followed by strands of hair being gently brushed away; too careful for your breath to not get stuck in your chest. you peer up at the man in front, teeth lightly gnawing the inside of your lower lip.

gojo's features shift into something between fond and worried– you just hope you aren't misreading him right now– the man tucks those strands of hair behind the shell of your ear.

his fingers still right above your jaw, touching yet not really touching, features finally, finally, settling into a smile– "maybe because i enjoy talking with you, cookie, no matter how foolish you are."

some people say, marriage is a holy act, a sacred institution, in and of itself— connecting hearts, binding souls– cementing the promises of staying together forever... whilst few see marriage to be meaningless— paltry affair of papers and signatures and people, none bearing any significance, 'cause nothing can, not when it comes to the matters of the hearts, neither in proving nor in disproving them–

no matter what people think, you think you will be okay, irrespective of whether you marry gojo or not, irrespective of whether gojo loves you or not– provided– and this is a weird, still important 'provided'—

you and he end up shopping together in the supermarket, feeling and seeming so happy and comfortable with each other— others mistake you for a pair of newlyweds, blissfully deep in love.

tysm to my dearest andy [@andysdrafts], mimi [@avatarofstars] & dilay [@roseqzpd] for constantly motivating me while i was writing this. ilysm my darlings 😘😘😘

masterlist

[dalliesque]

🍿 How Sweet — Dohoon TWS

3. first date day written!

[ 870 words, not proofread, LOTS of time skip]

the waited day is finally here, you've arrived to your new work place. taking a last look in your small mirror, closing it and breathing in the air around you. 'slow and steady' you breath deeply once again mustering up courage, entering the dimly lit building.

—

"everyone please welcome y/n summer. dear, i've assign you to be part of the usher team, though during the week training dohoon summer is gonna help you learn more than just ushering. that'll include sound check, preparing snacks, ticketing and a whole lot more. understood?"

"yes sir." you nod, taking a mental note at all that's been informed to you. mr kim wraps up the short meeting leaving you in the room with dohoon and some other coworkers. summer is used to refer people working in the summers or part-time, you find it adorable and odd at the same time.

"hi! do you remember me? im bae."

"noona this is anton!"

"im juyeon, can i call you noona?"

you greet all of them giddily, glad to find the people from yesterday's group. time went by fast and now it's time for the training to start. "we're so sorry, are we yapping right now? you must've been so uncomfortable" you smile softly, replying with a reassuring tone. "it was lovely listening to you guys talking, plus i got some more information about the cinema right?"

"that's true but—" "it's about time for the training, we better get going." dohoon cuts short of the talks. you purse your lips, bowing at the other coworkers following dohoon out of the meeting room. you sigh feeling way better than inside of the small room. it's not like you didn't enjoy talking to them but, there's something suffocating about one of them that you can't put your hands around. it was the guy named juyeon.

"if you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell them. they talk too much." dohoon speaks nonchalantly, glancing your way. "oh it's nothing, i really enjoy hearing them talking." you brush the thoughts off, convincing yourself it's nothing much.

"was it juyeon? i'll make sure you won't see him that often during the training"—"it's really nothing you don't need to worry" dohoon sigh, not speaking another word during the whole training session unless it's something you need to learn about.

-

you're now behind the counter, working with your best power to help the elderly couple in front of you. dohoon had finished helping you with ushering, teaching you how the walkie-talkie works, how to communicate with other coworkers, asking for support, and a lot of other things you should know as an usher now the last training of the day is to work with ticketing. fortunately, an elderly couple walked in today helping you learn more about it. usually, most younger people would've just bought their tickets through the online service provided, but elderly people wouldn't be very familiar with that. prefering the offline way instead.

after a while, dohoon's gaze drifts away from your work and onto your face. He notices the way your brow furrows in concentration, the slight pout of your lips as you focus on your work. his heart skips a beat as he realizes just how much he loves seeing you like this. 'she's so pretty- wait what, no! kim dohoon get yourslef togheter she's just a coworker!' dohoon ponder, sighing at his sudden thoughts.

"oh, im sorry. did i do something wrong?" you panic, thinking you've done something wrong to make him sigh like that. "oh um it's nothing. i was just thinking about something. you're doing good." dohoon silently screams inside of his head, cursing as he's distracted by your concentration in your work. he finds it rather attractive.

"i'll leave you for a moment, i got a call from manager kim." "okay! take care." dohoon left, using manager kim's request as an excuse to get away from the woman that made his heart pounding.

"noona! whoaa... you look like a professional!" anton walks into the counter, nudging you by the side. "ah, it's nothing. im new, after all." you rub your nape, fluster at the sudden compliment. "still better than me, you know ! when i started working part-time it took me 2 weeks to understand just ticketing." anton sighs, leaning towards the counter. "never again." you chuckle, patting his back.

"oh, a customer, you should tackle this noona! i'll be here when you need me." anton wink, stepping behind to let you train yourself.

you welcome the customer. the customer appears to be very, very rude, with the overwhelming demands you try your best not to cry right then and there. you look back, finding anton smiling 'need help?' he mouthed. you nod grateful at the help. "anton summer, can you help with this customers request and usher them?" you mouth a 'thank you' to him, receiving a smile in return.

-

"thank you for today dohoon summer, i'll see you again tomorrow."

"hmm. do you need a ride?" "it's fine, maybe next time." you smile at the offer, rejecting it politely. "alright then see you tomorrow y/n summer. text me when you arrive."

-

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taglist @jiaisfox

[slutforsnow]

His Sunflower

Chapter 7

So how we feelin' about I.E.D Coryo 😃 I figured it makes sense :3

Small sidenote, Sunni is chubby in her face and tummy, but not really anywhere else. She's kinda... small but chubby (?)

When Sej was told that Sunni was awake, he almost teleported to her side, and hugged her tight, squeezing her as tight as he could.

"Hey, Sun," he greeted, mildly out of breath from running across the estate to come see her.

Sunni merely smiled in the embrace, leaning into his touch and snuggling into him. She was rather short, standing at a mere 5'2", so compared to Sejanus, she was rather tiny—even with her slightly bigger frame.

"Hi, Sej," She whispered, her throat sore from whatever the fuck happened after she had puked last night.

"How ya feelin'?" He asked her, holding her face in his hands.

"Terrible. Gross. Sticky. Like I need 20 showers to rid of the feeling of him on me," She replied, sitting up somewhat. "God... why didn't I believe you when you warned me... Sej, I'm sorry-"

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. I should've warned you when you texted me that you were coming to the Capitol. It's my fault for not remembering to," Sejanus interrupted, sitting next to her.

"You still warned me. I should've listened to you. You're normally right about these things and Festus... he had me wrapped around his finger..." Sunni sighed, looking at her hands, silently counting the freckles that decorated her arms. "Maybe I am too stupid to be here."

"Sunni, you're not stupid," Sejanus reassured. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"But I'm naive; I took your words with a grain of salt and look where that got me! Drugged, puked, and publicly humiliated. Festus created the game and I played right into his trap—he won," She countered, miserably.

"Actually, Festus lost. Especially when I beat the hell out of him," Coryo corrected, holding Sunni's breakfast tray as he stood in the threshold of the door. "Sejanus had to pull me off of him, but eh, he'll live."

The room filled with the scent of blueberry pancakes and syrup, followed by bacon, hashbrowns, honey tea, and scrambled eggs. Coryo walked I'm, setting the tray on the bed, over Sunnis lap, being careful not to graze anywhere he shouldn't. He then took his seat back in his chair.

Her stomach growled loudly, and Sunni immediately dug into her breakfast, as she hadn't realized how she was literally starving.

"What happened? After I puked?" She inquired between bites. Sej and Coryo shared a look, silently conversing about who would tell her what.

"Well, after you puked, Festus continued to degrade you. We were holding you, trying to get you to focus and make sure you could hear me. Then he said something about... your body weight, and well..." Sejanus trailed off, seeing Coryo get his phone out and open his gallery.

"I did that," the blonde finished, showing Sunni a photo of Festus being bloodied, bruised, and with a clear broken nose and broken fingers. Sunni didn't flinch, though, or look disgusted as she continued to eat.

"Damn, Cori- did you let him get up?? At all?" She asked with a hint of teasing in her tone.

"Nah. Sejanus had to pull me off him once he got you sitting by a wall where no one could see you unless they were searching for you." He waved off the topic dismissively as he closed his gallery, giving Sunni a glimpse of his wallpaper; a blonde woman who looked a tad older than him and an elderly woman.

Coryo put his phone away as Sejanus continued to speak, and Sunni noticed that Coryo's dark red hoodie wasn't anywhere near him, which was odd, considering he never went anywhere without it.

"Once we got you back here, we told the maids what happened as they took you to get cleaned up and put to bed. Coryo and I stayed here for when you woke up so we could explain what happened. Oh, your mom's on her way here to talk with Ma and dad," Sej added, earning a nod from Sunni.

Sunni put her fork down, feeling tears build up in her eyes again. They had stayed with her the whole time and even took care of her. She had no words to express her gratitude for what they did, so she ended up breaking down in tears, saying a bunch of jumbled out sentences, comprised of "I'm sorrys", "thank yous", and other words the boys couldn't make out.

They both embraced Sunni, telling her it was okay and that she didn't need to worry about them being mad.

God, what did she do to earn these two to be so loyal and understanding?

The next day, Monday, Sunni was getting ready for classes. Despite the massive headache she still had from Saturday, she wasn't going to let Festus, Arachne, or Clemensia think they got to her. Not even with her mother's very tempting offer to come back home to district 2 for a little bit to relax.

As she grabbed her uniform from the closet, she saw a dark hoodie next to it. Curiosity tickled her mind and when she grabbed it, she saw a note pinned to it.

" 'Hey, Sunshine. Figured you could wear this on Monday; it gets pretty cold after midterms, so I want you to wear it. Not to mention that red's a nice color on you. -Coriolanus Snow' " She read quietly. The tips of Sunni's ears burned; she didn't think Coryo would just give her his hoodie—especially not his favorite one.

She changed into her uniform, and once she slipped on his hoodie, she felt her blush grow. It was huge and came down to her knees, whereas on Coryo, it came down to his midthigh. She felt safe in his hoodie, loved even. The smell of Cori infiltrated her nostrils, and she hugged the hoodie.

Coryo was making her smile, even without his actual presence.

Tags: @etfrin @hearts4court @snows-wife @delusionalbunni @kiraflowersworld @victory-scream0462 @curled-hair-red-lips @morallygrayboys @phoward89 @xoxo-eyeballs @thereeallink @graciouslyc @acidaciruela @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast @firstworldproblemthings @nowitsmissing

[windblume-wishes]

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Summary: After what happened at STYX, Epel was extremely traumatized and never wanted to part from Vil’s side for as long as possible… he did not want to lose Vil. The sight of seeing Vil all old and wrinkled, brittle and worn by age was enough to send him into panic- he’s seen many elderly in his hometown pass away but the images of elderly Vil fresh in his mind just made everything worse…

TW: Mentions of D3@th/Dy1ng and mega angst

If you were looking for Emotional Damage this is the place! Abandon hope all ye who read this! Ye have been warned beforehand of angst and pain!

Epel Felmier and Vil Schoenheit: Don’t Leave Me All Alone…

Rain pelted the windows of the Pomefiore dorm, thunder rattled the walls and lightning lit the dark hallways and bedrooms that cold February night. It was truly a rough storm and the howling wind whistling a ghostly tune made it no better for Epel as he shuddered under his blankets. The thunder roared again and he clutched his poison apple plush tighter, truthfully, he was not frightened of storms but the events at STYX was enough to send him into panic.

CRASH! BOOM!

The thunder roared again, releasing yet another wave of ferocity. With every roar of thunder came the memories of the titans… of Vil…

‘No… No, Vil is alive, Vil is fine… gotta stop being a scaredy-cat! Man up, Epel! Man up, damnit!’

Nightmares of the horrors that fateful day flooded his mind, images of Vil falling into the Underworld to save Idia still were fresh in his memory, haunting him with the thought of losing Vil. Tears pricked his baby blue eyes as he hid his face in his pillow, oh how he despised this weakness… but he supposed it was only right considering how the event’s traumatized him so dramatically.

CRASH!! BOOM!!

The thunder roared once more, causing Epel to jump slightly at the sound. Sevens above how he hated feeling so weak…

Epel huffed, sitting up in bed and grabbing his pillow and apple plush, making his way quietly out of the room and straight to Vil’s room. He knew Vil was likely already in bed but he just had to see him, he needed to know Vil was alive still. His dreams of Vil all old and wrinkled dying before his eyes shattered his heart into microscopic fragments, the images of the dream were too real for him, it was too much. Outside Vil’s door he could see the dim glow of lamp light from under the door, Vil was likely still awake if the lamp was on. Epel took a deep, shuddering breath and knocked on the door, trying his hardest not to break down like a small child.

“Hm? Epel? Whatever are you doing up at this hour? Eye bags, my dear, eye bag- Epel…? Oh Epel what’s the matter?” Vil knelt down to Epel’s height, brushing his gentle, soft hands across they younger’s face. “Come on in, potato, tell me what’s the matter.”

Epel walked in slowly, nodding his head and sitting next to his Housewarden on the bed, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. “V-Vil… I-I was just scared you were gone… that you left us for good… that the Underworld took you… *sniffle* I’m sorry… I know this is childish an’ stupid…”

‘Stupid! Damnit! Cryin’ like a lil kid in fronta Vil again… I’m gonna get a scoldin’ of a lifetime for the eyebags…’

Vil gasped, pulling Epel into a tight hug, petting his hair gently, swaying softly in an attempt of comfort. He had no idea Epel was so frightened, he had figured something was wrong when Epel refused to leave his side almost all afternoon during their Friday night cleaning session and this afternoon during lunch break but to see this side of Epel was entirely new. He was nothing more than a frightened little boy who had nearly lost someone he cared about deep down even if he did not want to admit it.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, just keep your head on my heart, see? It’s still beating, I’m still here, little apple. I’m still here…” Vil whispered soothingly, almost in a motherly manner as his slender fingers combed through the soft, violet locks.

‘No, Vil, you left us behind in my dream… you died… you died from old age too soon…’

“I-I’ve seen buncha old folks b-back home go an’ all but… but seein’ you get old an’ leavin’ us…” Epel could not finish that sentence, the words felt so rough on his tongue. The pain in his heart was excruciating and all he could do was wail into Vil’s chest like a child.

‘Sevens above, please don’t take Vil from us… please…’

Vil gently shushed the crying boy, whispering words of comfort as his tears flowed from his eyes. The feeling was the only calm Epel felt against the raging storm of emotions. The Pomefiore Housewarden knew that Epel always tried his hardest to keep a brave face, a defiant attitude, and a tough guy persona but Vil and Rook knew deep down Epel was a gentle soul who cared deeply for others even if he never showed it openly.

“Epel, how about you spend the night here with me, hm? That way you will know I will not leave you.” Vil smiled softly as the younger looked into his eyes as if questioning his suggestion. “I promise, I will not leave your side, you will be safe in here with me. No storm, titan, or Overblot monster will come in here.”

BOOM! CRASH!!

The first year gasped at the sudden clap of thunder, clinging to his Housewarden as if he were a baby koala. He nodded his head in agreement to Vil’s suggestion, eventually looking up at Vil worriedly before releasing his hold.

“S-sorry… dunno why the stupid storm is making me like this… I’m not usually all a scaredy-cat.”

“It can’t be helped, potato, to be completely honest with you, I too have had a difficult time with the storm…” Vil sighed and shrugged. “Truthfully, it reminds me of what happened at STYX, the titans and all those escaped monsters… and the fear of losing you and Rook.”

‘I-I had no idea Vil felt this way… I thought he was gonna say losing his good looks or somethin’ like that. Huh…’

“What? I know that look, potato- you have something snarky on the mind, spill it.”

“Ack- um- uh… n-no I’m good, Vil! Heh… heh…”

“One… Two… do not make me say three, potato.”

‘Great, he’s gone mama mode… no escapin’ this one…’

“Aight, I was gonna say just thought you were gonna say something ‘bout losing your good looks…”

Vil laughed, genuinely laughed at Epel’s remark. Ruffling his first year’s hair, he pulled him back into a hug. “You cheeky little apple, what am I to do with you?”

“Send me to Savanaclaw, maybe?”

“Not happening. You are staying with me, spudling.”

‘Damnit, guess I’m stuck with Vil- although, guess it ain’t a bad idea… heh- life does work in weird ways, huh?’

“Alright, potato, bedtime. It’s well past both of our bedtimes but sleeping in tomorrow as it is the weekend would not hurt, fufufufu~” Vil lifted the covers for Epel to climb under, like a mother he tucked him in and gently petted his head. Vil too tucked himself into bed and pulled the younger close to his frame, running his gentle, slim fingers through his hair and humming a soft lullaby.

Epel slowly but surely drifted off to sleep, the sweet humming of Vil’s lullaby and his heartbeat that was very much alive soothed his mind and guided him to slumber.

“Gnight… mum…” Epel mumbled sleepily, snuggling closer to Vil like a kitten.

“Goodnight, my littlest apple. May no nightmares touch your dreams tonight while I’m here.”

[voidsentprinces]

Mylla: Another word out of your mouth, Aldis and I'll beat you to death. Solkzagyl: Nah, therapy would take too much time. Imma just create an entire gaslighting plot around my death to recreate batman for Ishgard. Wyrnzoen: We get into some mild shenanigans here. Curious Gorge: I could try to look inward and explore my emotions...or I could just keep hitting things. Fray: This is bullshit, this whole thing is bullshit, that's a scam, fuck the church, here's a dark soul crystal. Sophie: Walk, walk, fashion baby. Hamon: It isn't violence against the elderly, if I call it TRAINING and I AM the elderly. Widargelt: Going to have more royal drama than the Sultana. Foulques: Gridania is racist...they will never fix this. But I can! BECAUSE I AM THE BEST LANCER IN THE WOR--OH NO! Estinien: Ishgard is classist...they will never fix this. But I can! BECAUSE I AM THE BEST DRAGOON IN THE WOR--OH NO! Jacke: We can stab people AND stop acts of terrorism. Karasu: Just having a little giggle. Having a bit of a laugh. Master Musosai: DAME DA NE! DAME YO DAME NA NO YO! Drusilla: Grandad was mad that the Emperor trolled him and is now making it everyone's problem. Sylphie: You may not like it but this is what peak conjury looks like. Raya-O-Senna: Hello and welcome! A-Ruhn-Senna: Die in a forest fire. Alka: Is it me or is that tonberry kinda...cute? Leveva: I would say I am sorry for blacking out, beating you and then burying you up to your neck in the middle of Coerthas. But I am not. Jannequinard: It is QUITE fine, my dear Lady Leveva. You did only what the stars asked, as any astrologian worth their salt would do. Aries Rising and all that. Loifa: I could easily explain my motives and backstory but this quest line has to last 8 more levels. Silvairre: Gridania is racist and shall never change its wa--oh no something happened to me personally. I have seen the error of my ways! Sanson: I can still hear his voice. Guydelot: Gay, gay, homosexual, gay, gay Stephanivien: Gonne training requires a steady hand and a leveled head. So I shall send you to someone who will teach you these things. Rostnstahl: ...sorry what? That guy over there has been looking at me for a while. Joye: That's your reflection. Rostnstahl: Oh right...hey you, shoot that guy over there in the ass. Nashmeira: Therapy would take too much time, lets dance for people's enjoyment. Cocobuki: How do you feel about casting Fire I for 50 levels? Shatotto: An arrow may have your name on it. But a fire ball is addressed to whom it may concern. K'lyhia: If my calculations are correct, you are only in this to get God and Anime on your side. Y'mhrita: I hear you know my sister. Well good news, cause we're about to harnass the power of GOD AND ANIME TO OUR SIDE! X'rhun: Yeah, I don't know why people keep running past and yelling, "Would you care to fuck this catman". Martyn: I am helping cure the smallpox by putting on shows to raise awareness. Quickly, VOMIT A FISH AT ME!

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

Warsaw

Gaza City

While Gaza Burns

(A different take on the Middle East)

Stephen Jay Morris

10/10/2023

©Scientific Morality

            If you should come across two bears in the wild, fighting each other, you best run away as fast as you can. Regardless of which bear wins, you too will die, if you stick around.

This adage I heard many years ago. What does it mean? It means that when two evil forces are fighting each other, you don’t have to take a side. Let’s say that White nationalists are having a war with the Taliban. Would I support either of the two?

So, now—let me get this out the way, Okay? Fuck Hamas! Fuck Benjamin Netanyahu! Got it? Hamas wants to make Palestine an Islamic state. Netanyahu wants to make Israel a Jewish Theocracy. He wants to get rid of all Arabs living in Israel. He is a Jewish separatist; a lukewarm Rabbi Kahani.

As it stands now, Israel is a secular democracy. The Likud Party is a war mongering, right wing party, one of the many parties in Israel. That is Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s party. They are a bigger threat than Hamas. Ask the thousands of Israeli protesters who wanted him ousted as Prime Minister. He wants to weaken the Israeli Supreme Court. Essentially, he wants to be Israel’s dictator.

Meanwhile, in Gaza City. Hamas—the flunkies of Iran—is putting innocent Palestinians at risk by breaching Israel’s border and kidnaping Israeli women and children, beating elderly Jews, and raping female Jews. Oh, did you see the video of a jihadist trying to behead a Jew with a backhoe? He couldn’t get the job done. I guess he couldn’t find an ax. I saw this video on mainstream media. Man, Israeli propaganda is a ratings grabber! What about the videos on how when an Israeli bomb falls on a building in Gaza, it crushes the occupants to death. The B.B.C. might show you that one.  Yeah, those videos shown on major networks are supposed to enrage you, to make you think, “Those Palestinians are vicious animals! Kill them all!”

Those videos don’t faze me at all. I know war propaganda when I see it. Doesn’t mean I am a heartless sociopath. I am just a cynical, 69-year-old with a callous heart after having seen how propaganda works.

Now I want to say a few words about the Authoritarian Left who support this Islamic group. Are you fucking nuts!?! The Left is supposed to be anti-religion, no matter whom they are! A lot of Tankies and Trots support Islamic groups because they represent oppressed, Third World people opposed to American Imperialism. Are you fucking stupid!? Islamic groups will oppress their own people! As an Anti-Authoritarian Leftist, I hate the religious Right, whether they be Jewish, Christian, Islamic or even Hindu!

You American, Right wing Chuds, are a hopeless case. Of course, you support Israel! In your Bible it says that Israel is where Jesus will be when he returns. It will be the headquarters of Christianity and Israel will become be a Christian state. Oh, speaking of Right wing dumbasses, Donald Trump couldn’t stand the fact that Israel was getting all the news coverage lately. So, he had to insert himself by jumping on the Congressional Republicans’ bandwagon and declaring that President Biden is at fault for inflaming the Israel/Palestine war.  Shut up, Donald! Go away!

How will this conflict end? I don’t know! However, nothing good will come out of it, of that I am certain. Both sides will lose. Oh, one question I have: What happened to Israel’s Iron Dome? Somebody forgot to plug it in?  I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Israel; they do have the Nuclear Bomb.

I said it before, and I’ll say it again: Being Jewish is not my ideal race for being. I wish I had been born Italian; Irish; Shit! Even Polish Catholic! Am I self-hating Jew? No, not really. In the early 20th Century, in New York City, there were Jewish Anarchists’ newspapers written in Yiddish! That’s the Jewish identity I crave. Did you know there are more Jews in the United States than in Israel? There are 7,300,000 in the U.S. and 7,106,000 in Israel. I guess that this diaspora is too cool to Aliyah to the holy land of Israel. What does that mean? Look it up.

P.S. Dear Lefties: Stop calling Israel an Apartheid state! Palestinians are a nationality, not a race of people. Racially, Arabs and Jews are Semitic. As far as Indigenous Americans go, they were and are victims of American apartheid, as are Mexicans, Asians, and Blacks. But, Israel and Arabs? No such deal.

חופש לכל האנשים על פני כדור הארץ

[karuvapatta]

Dear readers: I hope you have abandoned all hope of this thing fitting in anywhere within the canon timeline. And also of Jon getting a break anytime soon.

....I'm doing my best to wrap it up I swear ;-;

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

***

The night doesn’t get any more pleasant from there.

Jon spends several long hours in an Emergency Room, gets a CT scan to exclude cranial fracture, a blood test that tells him he’s slightly anaemic, a nurse worried that he’s underweight, comments about his blood pressure and resting heart rate being elevated, some less-than-subtle inquiries about domestic abuse once they see his scars, and a stern reminder to not mix alcohol with the sleeping pills he wheedled out of his GP.

(He wonders, now, if he influenced the GP into prescribing him the pills, or was he just annoying enough that she eventually caved in. He wonders how that power even works.)

They want to keep him in for observation, but after he signs a waiver that he’s aware of the risks and leaves of his own volition, they let him go with little fuss. The ER is busy enough as it is, and Jon is stubborn.

He does pause on his way out; the waiting room is full of mostly elderly people in bad physical shape, a few drunken brawlers, some victims of unfortunate accidents, and other assorted medical emergencies. The one person that stands out to him is a middle-aged woman, sitting unnaturally still in the corner, with wide-open, haunted eyes. She’s been marked by one of the Powers; he knows this. He feels her calling out to him, a promise of a feast for the Eye, brimming with fresh terror and terrible nightmares. It’d take very little to get her to talk—

Their eyes meet. Jon swallows, an involuntary reflex; he can feel the hunger in his stomach, this terrible need to extract a tribute to his patron. And it would nourish him in ways normal food doesn’t seem to anymore. It might even make him whole.

A nurse passes by with a clipboard, and asks the woman a number of questions. Jon flees the waiting room, hating himself every step of the way. He isn’t a fucking misery vampire, to prey on innocent unsuspecting people. He isn’t.

It’s long past daybreak when he finally makes it back to his apartment. He doesn’t even bother undressing, just swallows a pill, throws himself on the bed, and waits for the nightmares to begin.

***

He wakes up around noon with a mild headache and throbbing pain in his cheek. It’s raining outside; the steady beat of raindrops against the windowpane is actually quite soothing.

Jon showers, brushes his teeth, and contemplates breakfast, but the very thought of eating food makes him nauseous. He settles for a mug of herbal tea and watches the rain for a while, holding an ice-pack to his cheek and drumming an erratic melody on the table with his other hand. He wonders if he should make that phone call. He can almost hear Tim calling him insane, Sasha’s attempts at reasoning with him, his own name repeated in Martin’s worried voice. But he can also remember what it felt like to drag the truth out of Tim’s mouth; the mark of the Powers on that unfortunate woman. The Eye’s insistent presence.

He makes that phone call.

“Archivist.”

“Elias.”

There’s a beat of tense silence on both sides of the line. Jon curses himself for not writing down his questions beforehand.

“Sorry for calling on Saturday,” Jon says. “Are you busy?”

“No need to apologize,” Elias says smoothly. “I always have time for you, Jon.”

That is a blatant lie, but Jon lets it slide.

“I hope the gala went well,” Jon says.

“You call me on a Saturday to ask about an event you didn’t want to attend and that you bailed on halfway through?” Elias asks, thankfully more amused than upset.

“Oh! Yes, sorry about that. I, uh,” he contemplates lying, but is too worn out to come up with anything halfway believable. “I felt really awkward. After the. You know.”

“Yes, and maybe sometime next decade Simon Fairchild will stop reminding me of your dramatic escape,” Elias says. “All in all, it went about as well as I could have expected. Don’t worry about it too much.”

“Right,” Jon says, knowing damn well that he is going to worry.

“But this isn’t why you called.”

“No. It isn’t.”

There’s another long, awkward silence, while Jon struggles to formulate his thoughts.

“I think I can force people to answer my questions,” Jon says. “Is that normal?”

Elias has the audacity to laugh at him. The bastard.

“I was wondering when you were going to notice,” he says. “Compelling voice is a crucial ability to fulfil your role as the Archivist. How else could you extract statements from those unwilling to share them?”

He says this as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

“That’s—horrifying,” Jon says. “You do realize that it’s horrifying, right?” He takes in a shuddering breath. “Can I control it?”

“Yes. Of course. Now that you are aware of them, controlling your powers should become your next priority.”

“Stop giving me damn homework, Elias! I’m trying to ask for your help!”

The words are out his mouth before he can stop them, but he doesn’t think there’s anything supernatural about it. No; just pure desperation.

Elias sighs. “As lovely as it is to hear your voice, Archivist, I’d rather have this conversation in person. Are you available?”

“What—right now?” Jon asks. “Oh, wait. Is it because you cannot read my mind over the phone?”

“…maybe,” Elias says after a pause.

He files away the information for later. For now, he says, “Yes. I’m available.”

“Splendid. Where should I meet you?”

Jon considers the question. The Institute is the most obvious answer. It’s familiar and relatively safe, and both he and Elias have been known to spend their weekends at work, so it wouldn’t even be that strange. But the thought of always meeting Elias in a place where he holds all the power annoys him to no end. A restaurant, then? But, damn, he doesn’t want to have to dress up for the sort of place that might meet Elias’s standards. Besides, his head spins slightly every time he stands up; he suspects he might end up slipping on the wet pavement and cracking it open.

“I am actually not feeling very well,” he says. “Could you meet me at my place?” Suddenly aware of how it sounds, he hastens to add: “I don’t mean—I’m not trying to suggest anything inappropriate, so please do not read too much into it.”

“Of course. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Great,” Jon sighs. “I’m assuming you know where I live.”

“I do.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you later,” Jon says.

***

Inviting Elias over might have been stupid, but isn’t much more questionable than any of his other decisions as of late. It’s the sort of baseline stupid Jon is becoming accustomed to.

He spends the time cleaning up and fretting over his clothing. Should he dress up? Which part of the dress code covers this particular situation? He feels like he shouldn’t be meeting his boss in an old band T-shirt and sweatpants, but another, more rational part of his brain points out that he shouldn’t be inviting his boss to his house at all. His outfit is the least concerning aspect of this situation. Intellectually he understands this, but he spends a good while selecting the right combination of sweatpants, shirt, and hoodie. He can’t imagine Elias would take him seriously if he were wearing pyjamas. If he deigns to take him seriously, that is.

His nervous fretting comes to an abrupt stop once the doorbell rings. Right. One hour.

He opens the door, and is greeted with the comical sight of Elias’s tailored suit and expensive coat looking distinctly out of place in the cluttered, dark, narrow corridor of his apartment. But then Elias’s eyes zero in on Jon’s face, and Jon feels suddenly self-conscious.

“Uh. Hi. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?”

He leads the way to the living room, but doesn’t get very far before Elias stops him.

“Jon,” he says quietly.

Now he is in Jon’s space, looking down at him with an intense, scrutinizing expression in his steel-grey eyes. He smells faintly of rain and laundry detergent, but mostly that cologne he favours, which Jon remembers well from yesterday’s gala. His fingers are on Jon’s chin, gentle but insistent, turning his face up, towards the light; he brushes away the hair from Jon’s face. For a moment it seems inevitable that he will lean down and press his lips against Jon’s; why else would he touch him in this manner?

“What happened?” he asks.

His fingers skim feather-light over the bruise on Jon’s cheek. Jon winces; it’s swollen and tender, and no doubt does little to improve his appearance. He misses the ice-pack, but it was getting too warm so he had to place it back in the freezer for the time being.

“It’s nothing,” he says, a little breathy. He’s trying not to inhale too much of Elias’s scent, in case it makes him do something above-baseline stupid. “Just a bruise. It’ll fade.”

Elias’s lips are pressed thin, his brows knitted together. His eyes flare; for a moment, Jon could swear they changed colour into something deeper, vibrant, otherworldly; that they can suddenly see much, much further than Jon’s own face.

“Timothy Stoker did this to you?” Elias asks. His voice is pitched low, in cold fury; it sends a tremor through Jon’s body, an instinctive reaction to flee. But he can’t quite move, Elias’s hand and gaze pinning him in place, as gentle as they are insistent.

“We had a fight,” Jon says. “Stay out of it. It’s none of your business.”

Elias narrows his eyes.

“What happens to myArchivist very much is my business,” he says.

“I’m not your damn property,” Jon seethes. “And I can take care of myself.”

“You called me to ask for help,” Elias reminds him coldly.

“Not with this,” Jon says. “Leave Tim alone. Leave all of them alone.”

He’s trembling; his head spins. What a pathetic sight he makes right now, bargaining for his assistants’ lives with an empty hand. It’s a wonder Elias doesn’t laugh in his face.

“Jon,” Elias says. “They haven’t the right…” he cuts off, abruptly, and lets go of Jon’s chin.

The sudden absence of his touch is enough to have Jon swaying on his feet. He gasps, black spots dancing before his eyes; luckily the wall is not far behind his back, giving him something to lean on, his sweaty hands desperately scrambling at it for something to hold.

Elias looks down at him, startled. Jon gives a weak laugh in response.

“I told you,” he says. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Elias says. He steps away to where he set down his briefcase and retrieves a file from it. “Here. I brought you these.”

It’s the damn statements. Jon doesn’t even need to browse through its contents to know as much; the file calls out to him through no sense he can name. As Elias places it in Jon’s hands, Jon can almost hear the background static of the tape recorder, all other thoughts and concerns receding from his restless mind. He’s blank, achingly empty, and ready to receive this new account of the Powers, to absorb the fear and lose himself in it, to feel, to experience, to know—

“No,” he says. “Why—”

“It’ll help,” Elias says. So calm, so logical.

“I don’t want this,” Jon whispers. “I never wanted this. I can’t…”

The wall slips away, or maybe he slides down, limp and helpless. Elias catches him before he can hit the ground and steers him towards the couch; Jon doesn’t fight him. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“Jon,” Elias says, from somewhere far away. “You need this. You know you need this. What, exactly, are you hoping to gain by intentionally starving yourself?”

“This is wrong,” Jon says. His mouth is dry; his tongue feels like it was made of sandpaper. The buzzing in his head only gets louder.

“It is what it is,” Elias says. “You can be angry about it later, if you’d like.”

Jon shoves him away. He would have more luck with a brick wall; Elias catches his hands easily, encircling Jon’s wrists in a loose grip, his thumb running soothing patterns on the delicate inner skin of them.

“No,” Jon repeats, numbly.

He still can’t bring himself to let go of the statements. He is clutching them so tightly it’s a wonder they haven’t torn yet… but, no. The thought is absurd. In the heights of madness, Jon would never damage these. He might as well take a knife to his own flesh and slice it into ribbons.

“When was the last time you read one?”

“Not sure. A week. Maybe two,” Jon shakes his head. He’s been avoiding them, he hates what they turn him into. He hates the sick thrill of anticipation, he hates the words flowing out of his mouth, he hates the buzz of static on his tongue, he hates the Eye’s heavy gaze over his shoulder, all around him, within him. He hates the nightmares. He hates himself most of all.

“Oh, Jon,” Elias says softly. Like he understands, like he cares. He moves closer, sits right next to Jon and lets go of his hand to cradle the back of his head.

And it’s nice. It’s nice to sink into his embrace, regardless of how sure Jon is he’d be safer throwing himself into shark-infested waters. Elias is warm; his chest moves at a steady, comforting rhythm. His arms around Jon feel grounding, partially shielding him from the Eye’s constant presence.

“I don’t want this,” Jon repeats, over and over, like a broken record. He isn’t making any sense. He knows he isn’t.

He smooths the paper in his hands. Elias tucks a few loose strands of hair behind his ear, so that they won’t obscure his vision.

“You didn’t hurt these people, Jon,” he says quietly. “Whatever happened to them is already done. You cannot rewrite their stories. All you can do is archive them.”

“What for?” Jon asks. “Why?”

Elias considers him for a long moment, with an inscrutable expression on his face. On anyone else, Jon might be willing to classify it as remorse; but he knows better. He knows Elias too well, and yet not at all.

“For now? Because you need it,” Elias says. “For later – I’ll tell you when you’re ready.”

He needs it. That’s the simple truth of it. Right now, Jon can start reading, or he can die. It’s stupid, it’s absurd; and yet it’s true.

“Statement of…”

[malebellyworld]

1.) To Be Young and In Love

Chubby!Ramiverse!Peter Parker x Male!Reader

⚠️TW ⚠️: The following mentions E.D., Depression, and S.A.

(Anything italicized is referring to the past.)

————•————•————•————•————

Spiderman Swings Into Action

You sighed as you walked away from reading the latest on the newsstand on your way to work. Ever since you moved from Connecticut to New York City things changed drastically. You and your family moved in last summer, but for the wrong reasons. Your dad was caught drinking on the job, and after they fired him his friend called him about an open spot in the ship yards and your mom worked at the dry cleaners. But now that you turned sixteen, your parents sort of pressure you into getting a job.

You were on your way to work at the Atlantic Diner. Everyday you would go right after school, dressed in your uniform and ready for another grueling shift dealing with noisy screeching children, rude elderly people, and the occasional Karen raging about the wrong order.

However, one thing that stood out from the rest of the customers was that Peter Parker - the guy who was not even considered to be on the food chain - was sitting there at the bar lazily stirring a melted chocolate milkshake, a sullen look on his face as he was lost in his thoughts, disconnected from it all.

Ever since his uncle Ben died three days ago, Peter has not been the same. Just yesterday, Flash Thomson was trying to apologize to Peter, but then he immediately responded by slamming the taller boy into the lockers. It was shocking to see someone so gentle and calm as Peter flip in a split second.

After you put your apron and name tag on, you began taking orders from other tables and going back and forth with drinks and plates. As you did this, though, you could not help but glance over at Peter as he remained still in the same position you saw him.

You could not help but feel bad for him.

A few minutes had passed, yet Peter still stayed in the same spot as before, gazing into nothing. You sighed as you walked up behind the counter, putting on a small but warm smile on your face.

“Hey, Peter.”

The boy jerked back into reality, glancing up at you with crystal blue eyes as he smiled softly at you. “Oh, hey, Y/n.” He said awkwardly.

“How’s everything going?.” You asked as you handed the chef the ticket order.

“Uh, I-I don’t know, it’s alright I guess.” Peter said, still staring at his melted milkshake.

You sighed heavily as you refilled a few drinks. “And how’s your aunt doing?.”

“She’s okay, still hasn’t gotten much sleep lately.” Peter said glumly.

“And what about Mary Jane, how’s she doing?.” You asked.

“W-We… haven’t spoke much in a while.” Peter said, a trace of sadness was in his tone.

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.” You said, cringing.

“It’s okay…” Peter mumbled.

You could see his eyes growing even more red with each passing second, his face pinching and contorting in deep-seeded agony. Peter was usually great at hiding his emotions, even after being beat by Flash, not a single tear would leave his eyes.

But now, it is a full view and for the first time ever, the nerd boy everyone seems to treat like nothing, is now taking off his shield and letting the whole world know that he too can hurt just as much as anyone else.

You immediately laid your hand over his, your thumb rubbing the side of his fist. “I know how it all feels like,” You said, earning a tearful look from Peter. “I know what it feels like when seemingly everyone is leaving you and nothing is working as the way it should be.”

Peter only nodded, placing his hand over yours. “Thanks, Y/n, but I think I should go home now.”

You hesitated as the brunette got up from his seat, pulling a ten dollar bill from his wallet and tossing it on the counter. You immediately grabbed Peter by his arm, causing him to jerk his head back to you in shock as he gazes at you with wide blue eyes, causing you to let go.

“Uh, maybe we could hang some time, go see what’s in the movies probably?.” You asked, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

Peter stood there for a moment, thinking of whether or not this was a prank, until he finally nodded his head. “Yeah, sure sounds good.”

“O-okay, I’ll call you. Bye.” You said shyly. Peter smiled a little before walking out the door.

To say the least, things between you two were slow; Peter mostly going on about how he was applying for a job at The Daily Bugle as a photographer, or how he and Aunt May were handling the entirety of the death of Uncle Ben. But what killed your spirit the most, was how he was insistent on dating Mary Jane.

Despite her being a genuinely good person, she still had left Peter in this space of uncertainty as she was still with Harry Osborn, while at the same time she would build Peter up into thinking he could have his chance with her. And it hurt you to see that even though they were good for each other, they still had their flaws that were left unattended like untreated infections.

You, on the other hand, would devote as much time to the lovable nerd as much as you could, mostly meeting him at the diner for some fires and a milkshake.

Sometimes he would eat more than that, sometimes it was a whole two plates worth of food, and yet Peter would still look the same as before, blaming it on how he was always running after the school bus every morning.

It was not until the homecoming dance came around when Peter had finally worked up the courage to ask out Mary Jane. Sadly, she declined, opting for going with Harry to go see a showing of Wicked the same night. This meant that you had your chance to ask Peter, regardless of whatever anyone thought.

“Hey, Peter. I gotta ask you something,” You asked as you both worked on your Physics experiment.

“What is it?.” He asked softly.

“… I-I was wondering if you were free this Saturday?.” You asked.

“Uh, I think so, why?.” Peter asked as he looked at you quizzically.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to go with me to the movies this Saturday?.” You asked, rubbing the back of your neck.

He stayed quiet for a moment. Peter did not know what exactly to think about all this; getting asked out, let alone by a guy. He usually spent his Saturdays inside either working on his homework or a new assignment for The Daily Bugle, or secretly doing night patrol in his spidersuit.

“Uh, I-I don’t know…” Peter said awkwardly. “Besides I have some stuff to do for work and if I miss that then my boss’ll kill me.”

“We can go in the early afternoon and I’ll have you back home by four.” You said.

Peter hesitated for a bit, biting his bottom lip. “Okay.”

You smiled. “Great, I’ll see you then.”

You knew Peter Parker was an awkward nervous wreck half of the time. As you both sat through the previews, you could see from the corner of your eye Peter biting his nails as he stared intensely at the screen, and since Peter hardly had any nails left to chew off, you passed the large tub of popcorn over to him causing him to jump from his trance.

You smiled, shaking the tub. “It’s always nice to share.”

Peter smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.” He said, taking a handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth.

This went on for the first half of the movie. You would be mainly glued to the screen watching all the action go down as Peter continuously ate popcorn without even stopping for a drink. You knew everyone had their ways of coping with anxiety, nail biting being one of the main mechanics, but never did you see constant eating as one of them. Yes you’ve heard of stress eating, but never seen it in person.

After the movie had ended, You were expecting Peter to immediately go back home, but to your surprise, he insisted that you both go out to eat.

After ordering your favorite item from the menu, Peter was still picking out a few things as you sat there, awkwardly taking a few sips from your cup as Peter went on, ignoring the surprised expressions from the elderly waitress.

You didn’t know what exactly to think of it. Peter was always hardly eating and he’d mostly be seen eating bits of his food like a bird. Maybe he was just really hungry today? Maybe he’s trying to bulk up? Maybe he skipped breakfast this morning?

("What if it’s something else?.")You thought. After all, tomorrow marks three weeks since his uncle had died. ("What if it’s just that, what if he’s stressed out?.")

You were brought back to reality when Peter was calling your name from beyond your mind, causing You to slightly flinch as Peter reached to touch your hand. “I’m sorry, I must’ve blanked out.”

“It’s okay, I was just asking if your come here often.” Peter said in his typical soft tone.

“Uh, not really, I usually go to school and work and then home.” You said with a small giggle.

Peter nodded. “Is there anywhere else you go to?.”

“Not really, I don’t have much of a social life.” You gazed back down at your drink, swirling the ice around.

“I know how it feels,” Peter said solemnly.

Before You could say anything else, the waitress came back with your food first. You waited a bit for Peter's to come, and when it did your eyes grew wide. The other boy had ordered four large plates of food, along with two desserts.

You didn't say much, weary if you'd hurt Peter's feelings. Instead, You just ate quietly, glancing over at Peter every now and then to see him scarfing down his food like he hasn't eaten in weeks.

"So, what are your plans for homecoming next week?." You asked.

Peter barely paused from his eating. "Not really," He said with a mouthful of Salisbury steak. "Probably just staying in at home."

You nodded, watching as he finished the first plate within four minutes, moving on to the next without taking a break, not even to drink his coke.

("He probably skipped out on breakfast today,") You thought as You saw Peter begin on his second plate - a BLT with a side of fries.

"What about you?." Peter asked.

You sighed, "Uh, I guess I might pick up an extra shift, maybe pick up drawing again."

Peter nodded before finishing off the rest of his sandwich and eating whatever was left with the fries.

("What if he could be binging?.") You thought. ("Maybe some kind of disorder?.")

But You didn't know what exactly he was dealing with. After all, he never was one to show any emotion, let alone any disorders he may be facing. It was almost like he wasn't even human at times. Like he was a creature from a different place, and he was trying to survive every day.

By the time he finished his third plate, Peter has let out a long sigh as he rested his hand above his stomach. You could not help but gaze at him, your heart fluttered a little as he gently rubbed his stomach, letting out a short burp before opening his eyes and going to finish off the fourth plate - shepherd’s pie with beef.

The two of you sat in silence and you’re gaze never left Peter as he ate and ate until there was nothing left on his plate. Peter glanced over at your plate and noticed that You hardly made a dent.

“Are you okay?.” He asked.

“Uh, yeah, I’m just not that hungry.” You said with a little smile.

Peter swallowed. “Um, do you want a to-go box?.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay, thanks anyway.”

Peter began to blush as he stared at your unfinished plate, his mouth agape as his eyes looked distant and glassy. He was almost in some odd trance-like state, completely enamored by the food You had ordered, his mouth growing watery.

“Uh, do you want some of it?.” You asked shyly.

Peter snapped his eyes up at You, giving a short nod with a small innocent smile, those blue eyes gleaming with joy, and your heart was driven madly into adoration.

Once You gave Peter your plate he immediately began to consume every single thing left until there was nothing else left but whatever little garnishment the cook had put there.

He leaned back against the booth, his shirt resting tightly around his fully bloated stomach. You tried so desperately not to look, not to touch, but it was a very difficult task You somehow managed to pull off.

• • •

A few weeks had passed since that day. You and Peter were still talking but you haven’t seen him that often, and if You did, he’d be secretly snacking on something during class, or eating everything he had on his tray at lunch.

You started to notice that he was beginning to don an oversized sweatshirt in the beginning of spring. You always knew Peter was self-conscious but it was never this bad. Everyday he would be on the bus wearing the same navy blue hoodie, never once would he take it off, only rolling the sleeves up to his elbows to reveal more defined and thicker arms than their regular spindly figure. You wanted to ask something, but once again You thought it just wasn’t in your place to do so.

One night, You were walking back home from work. You had taken the bus and it was already starting to drizzle, so You picked up the pace a little bit. As You were walking, however, a loud smash had caused You to look behind to see what was happening.

Three tall men were stalking their way towards You, their voices were slurred as the scent of booze wafted off themselves. The began to crowd You and slowly began backing You into the corner of a dark alleyway. You looked for any chance of an exit, but one of them had placed their arms beside You, practically trapping You from the world.

The man was big and bald, a large scar on his left eye, a demonic smile that made You shiver in the now pouring rain. He leaned in closer, his mouth grazing your neck.

You looked around with wide eyes, hoping for anyone who could help, but during this time of night, your chances were slim and nothing was going to stop these guys from doing whatever they wanted to You.

As the taller man forcefully pulled You into him, You felt every ounce of dread flood your body. Dysphoria was took over full time once the man reached down your pants, his large rough hand fondling You as he gripped your waist, his mouth tasted that of cigarettes and cheap alcohol.

“Hey save some for us too, Mitchie.” Said one of the assailants.

The man - Mitchie - simply grunted in your mouth as he continued to forcefully smash your lips against his.

You let out a shrill and muffled scream before the man slammed You against the wall and knocked the wind out of You.

However, before the man could do anything else, a loud “Hey!” caused everyone to jolt from what they were doing, glancing all around to find who was disrupting them.

You never thought you’d be seeing THE Spider-Man right in front of You, but low and behold, there he was standing there behind everyone, almost analyzing the situation going on.

“Now what’s gonna happen here is that either you guys leave him alone, or I’m gonna have to do everything my way.” He said.

“And what the fuck are you gonna do about it if we say no?.” Said the other assailant.

Without warning, Spider-Man launched a web at one of the guy’s face, causing him to stumble back into a pile of wet cardboard boxes. The other guy charged after Spider-Man, narrowly avoiding the punch that was sent flying in his direction.

“Okay, I see how it’ll be.” Spider-Man said.

He threw the first punch with success, causing the goon to nearly fall back as blood began to flow down his nose. However, before the man could even throw his next punch, a web wrapped his fist up before the rest of his body was wrapped up in webbing.

You gazed into the annoyed eyes of Mitchie as turned to face off against the superhero. He popped his knuckles and neck before charging at Spider-Man, who simply dodged out of the way. This aggravated Mitchie, and so the bald man started wildly throwing his fists at the hero, missing his face completely before his arms were bound to his sides with webbing.

Spider-Man glanced over to You, gently walking up to see if You were okay. “Do you need any help?.”

You shivered as you gazed into those large blank white eyes. You nodded, “Please, I just want to go home.”

Spider-Man carefully lifted You off the ground, your body leaning against his. “Just hold on tight, okay?.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms and legs around him before this sudden jolt made your whole body become weightless for a split second. He was swinging from building to building as You buried your face into the curve of his neck, squeezing your eyes shut as your grasp on him tighten even more. As the rain began to go into a full-on downpour, the air around you was cold and wild.

You nestled in closer to the vigilante, desperate for any form of heat as you both swing through block to block. He had no particular scent to him, just the rubbery smell of his costume and the wet industrial surroundings, but his presence alone brought this form of comfort to You after what happened before.

By the time he reached your house, Spider-Man gently landed his feet on the ground, his arms still holding You close to his body as he walked up to the stoop. He bent his head down, gently running his gloved hand over your hair.

“We’re here,” he announced in a low but soft voice.

You lifted your head up from his shoulder and glanced around in amazement. You knew that Spider-Man must’ve been all around town, but it surprised You how accurate he knew where You lived without the need for asking the address. It shook it off before unwrapping your legs from his waist, the stinging numbness causing You to momentarily loose balance and slump forward onto the hero’s chest. You let out a small “uhf” as You collided with the muscular and rough surface, your face blushing madly as You tried to lift yourself up.

“I’m sorry about that,” You mumbled, pushing yourself off of the masked man. “My legs kinda lost feeling for a moment.”

“It’s okay, it happens to everyone,” Spider-Man stated with a hint of warmth in his tone.

You smiled a little before glancing down. “Uh, thank you for saving me back there,”

“You’re welcome, just promise me that you’ll be careful next time, and if you ever need help, just call out for me.” Spider-Man stated.

You nodded before walking up the stoop, taking one last glance at your savior, who nodded to You, before launching a web before swinging off into the dreary night sky.

• • •

Two weeks had passed since your encounter with the guys in the alley, and with Spider-Man. You decided not to tell anyone else because not everyone would’ve believed you in the first place, since a lot of people will make up stories about being saved by Spider-Man for their fifteen minutes of fame. But your encounter made feel somewhat safe when it came to working night shifts, as though someone out there really cared about your well-being.

Aside from the whole Spider-Man thing, You noticed that Peter hadn’t shown up to school for a week. You didn’t see him around the halls, in lunch, nor in physics class.

Ben Parker’s funeral was last week and You decided to go for Peter. You were standing far behind everyone as they surrounded the gravesite as a frigid gust of wind blew the dead leaves passed the casket, causing You to shiver before sinking into your coat. You couldn’t see Peter from where you stood, glancing around gravestones and mourners to see how Peter was doing. You gave up, ultimately deciding to just wait and pay your respects to the man who lost his life in such a senseless and horrific way.

By the time the service was over, everybody began to disperse as You stood there, watching the casket come into full view. You licked your lips nervously as You carefully walked up holding a white flower in your hand. You gently laid it down over the plethora of white flowers on the casket, a immense wave of emotions rushed through your body.

Peter and Mary Jane were standing just a few feet away from you. She was comforting him as Harry Osborn watched at the sidelines, his gaze on the ground as he shoved his hands in his pockets. You noticed something different about Peter, his overall attitude was closed off from the world, almost like his real self was shut off momentarily.

Another thing You noticed was his overall appearance. He wasn’t as lanky as he was before, his shoulders were no longer frail and were more broad in his ill-fitting suit. His face seemed to have more definition to it, his jawline was still there and it made him look a little older, but his face seemed to be chubbier than the last time You saw him.

After an awkward exchange between them, Mary Jane walked over to Harry, taking her arm in his as they walked to the front entrance of the cemetery. You hesitantly walked over to where Peter stood, not taking his glance away from the casket.

“P-Peter?.” You said in a soft tone.

Peter snapped his head in your direction, offering a short smile, “Oh, hey, how’ve you been?.”

“I uh, I’ve been okay, I missed you,” You said.

Peter smiled before glanced over at himself. “I haven’t been feeling too good lately, you know with work and everything going on,”

“Yeah,” You said. “Listen, if you ever feel like talking, don’t be a stranger, I’m always free.”

Peter nodded before glancing back down. “I uh, I gotta go, the service is happening at one of the diners Ben used to visit, maybe you should come by?.”

“I wish I could but I have to go to work in an hour, so I’m in a bit of a time crunch,”

Peter nodded before walking off to the front gates of the cemetery leaving You all alone with the groundskeepers who began to lower the casket.

• • •

It was another night coming back home from work, thankfully, though, it wasn’t pouring down like before.

It was a cold night, but a night that was nonetheless, filled with terror. A night that You, and all of New York would never forget.

What was once a peaceful walk home listening to music, had soon changed to a night of survival and fear. The last thing You remembered was being tackled into the air by something (someone) coming at you like a freight train. At first You thought it was Spider-Man coming to visit you again, but the gravelly cackling made You snap your head at none other than the Green Goblin gazing back at you behind reflective orange eyes, that permanent grin just an inch away from You.

“I hope you can finally catch his attention,” the masked villain said devilishly as he soared throughout the night sky to the roof of an abandoned smallpox hospital on Roosevelt Island.

The Green Goblin grabbed you by the hair, “Now scream for your spider,”

You did nothing but glare at the mask, earning another hard yank at the hair and a warning screamed from the villain. You did nothing but hiss in pain, grabbing at the hand of the villain to try and fend yourself off as much as you could, but this only aggravated the menace even more as he dragged You over the side of the building.

You screamed in pain and fear until your throat was sore and your voice gave out as you were dangled over eight stories above ground. Just as you were close to giving into dying, you and the Green Goblin were pushed down on the roof, the Green Goblin’s grip on your hair came loose and you rolled away from the green figure. You glanced up to see Spider-Man standing over you, but the Green Goblin got back on his glider and swoop around the two of you tossing a pumpkin grenade.

Spider-Man pushed You out of the way just before the bomb detonated in front of his face sending him screaming as he flew right through a brick wall, hitting his back on a beam and falling to the ground with a loud groan. You were about to stand up before the Green Goblin came flying back around, grabbing you and throwing you into another wall, the sounds of popping and snapping echoed through the air.

The Green Goblin flies back around and stops where Spider-Man struggles to get up. “Misery, misery, misery, that’s what you’ve chosen,” he begins to step toward the stumbling hero. “I offer you friendship, and you spat in my face.”

The Green Goblin begins hitting Spider-Man, with one punch sending him back a few feet. Once he gets up, Spider-Man dodges a punch by swinging from a web, but is knocked back down and thrown onto the ground.

Webs begin to form a barrier between the two, but the Green Goblin is able to tear through it with ease and slams Spider-Man into a pillar, knocking him around a little more before finally kicking him into a wall. Just as Spider-Man launches a web strand, his hand is crushed under a metallic green boot.

“You’ve spun your last web, Spider-Man. Have you not been so selfish your little girlfriend’s death would’ve been quick and painless, and that boy over there wouldn’t have to suffer so much, but now that you pissed me off… I’m gonna finish them both, nice and slow.”

Enraged, Spider-Man gets up as the Green Goblin readies his pitch-fork and tries to take a stab at the superhero, but is knocked back and crushed by a wall that Spider-Man uses his webs to pull. Just as the Green Goblin gets back up, he is once again slammed into a wall by Spider-Man, and is repeatedly punched until the Green Goblin surrenders.

The villain takes off his mask revealing himself as Norman Osborn. You were shocked, but what shocked you the most was the fact that he called Spider-Man “Peter”. You squinted further and could see a few features that belonged to Peter, but something else about him threw you off entirely. His large body seemed to be jam packed into that bodysuit, highlighting his rotund belly and semi big pecks. You couldn’t help but blush at the sight of the newly added weight on his ass as well.

As the Green Goblin was speaking, his hoverboard was sent flying behind Peter, luckily his spidey senses knew it was coming, and he was able to jump out of the way just in time before the Norman Osborn was impaled and utter out his last words.

“Don’t tell Harry,” he said weakly, his torso falling down on the hoverboard.

You slowly stood up on uneasy feet, stumbling back against a wall. Peter walked over to you, eyes wide in shock as he touched the mask, realizing now that his cover is blown.

You held your ribcage as you looked at him straight in the eyes.

“Don’t worry,” You said in a hoarse voice. “I won’t say anything.”

Peter walks over to You, his fingertips peeking out of the ripped gloves as they brushed against your cut and bloodied face. He pulls You into his heavyset body, the warmth and weight of his belly pressed up against you was enough to make You stifle a moan, but given the current situation and location now wouldn’t probably be the time to mention anything to him.

“Please… just take me home,” You muttered in his ear.

Peter only nodded, holding You closer to his body before swinging on a newly projected web strand.

• • •

Queens, along with all of New York, wasn’t the same after the reign of the Green Goblin. Some compared it to the likes of the September 11th attacks, some compared it to something out of a Batman comic book villain, and some just wanted to forget about the whole thing ever happening.

Curfews were set by the police department upon students ranging from high school to below. You were stuck inside longer than usual, since your boss cut off some of your hours, and You had more time on your hands, and spending more time at home has already become a tedious task.

It was nearly thirty minutes before curfew when You came walking back from the bus stop. You had come back from another day worth of talk about the Green Goblin, but nothing about Spider-Man saving all those people in the Roosevelt gondola, or even saving Mary-Jane. And then the thought of Peter crept back into your mind, something you’ve been trying hard to fight off.

He hadn’t been to school in nearly a week, and maybe it’s for the best. After what Peter had went through these past few weeks is something nobody should go through, but there he was saving New York City with all the strength he could put into it, and thankfully it was all worth it.

You were shocked to see Peter standing outside of your apartment building. The only way You could make him out, however, was by the facial features on the plump face. Another thing that caught You off guard was how much weight he had gained, overgrowing the last time You saw him.

“Hey, Peter,” You said with a smile. “What are you doing here?.”

Peter smiled back, his chubby cheeks causing his eyes to squint a little. “I just came here to talk to you, about everything that’s been going on, with us, with me, with this.”

He gestured his tightly packed belly under his shirt. You tried to hide the blush creeping in.

“Listen, Peter, I know that things haven’t been easy lately, but you know I’m not the type of person who goes around gossiping just for the attention of it.”

“I know, but it’s not about that, it’s about keeping my loved ones safe from ever getting hurt by my enemies-”

“Spider-Man’s enemies,” You interjected. “Peter I don’t think you’re understanding what’s been happening with me and I don’t think I can hide it anymore. Ever since that night we went out, I developed some feelings for you, feelings I know that we will get shunned by, but I gotta tell you that meeting you was probably the best thing to happen to me all year.”

Peter stayed quiet for a moment, his confused eyes looking for a response.

“But I’m not the same person you fell in love with before,” Peter said.

“I don’t care if you’re secretly Spider-Man, and I don’t care if you weigh three hundred pounds, I’m still gonna be in love with the guy that’s different from all the rest,” You said, staring Peter straight in the eye as to drive you point across. “I love you, Peter.”

Peter’s breath hitched as soon as You said that. His belly heaved up and down as he was breathing rapidly. You stepped closer, your hand snaking around his soft waist, his belly pressed up against your stomach as You pulled him in for a kiss, pressing his belly even further towards your body.

Peter’s chubby hand brushes through your (h/c) hair as he leans into the kiss. His hands wrap around your shoulders as your other hand gently brushes against his belly, coming to rest on those lush love handles. Both of your tongues battled for dominance, with yours sliding into his mouth with ease. Peter’s hands gently glide down your back, coming to rest just inches above your ass.

You two separate, gasping for air as Peter smiles.

“I didn’t think you’d still love me being this way, I tried to control it, but the hunger and the dart got the better of me and-”

“Wait a minute, what dart?.” You asked.

Peter sighed heavily. “Well, before I… killed… Norman - the Green Goblin? - I was hit by a dart filled with a strange green fluid. I figured it was from the Green Goblin, because of how familiar it looked like those grenades. At first I didn’t know what it was exactly, but later on I guessed it affected my metabolism in a huge way.”

He glances down at his belly, his hand rested at the top. You gently laid your hand on his belly, the warmth coming off him like a radiator, and gently rubbed a small circle on it.

“I never thought of you as a chubby chaser,” Peter teased, grabbing your other hand to rest on his belly. “Then again, I’ve had my fair share of secrets too.” He said in a cocky tone.

Your face was now cherry red. “Shut up,” You chuckled. “And I never knew it took gaining weight to drive you wild.”

“Maybe we should take this upstairs?.” Peter said in a flirty voice.

“Maybe Thursday, my parents come home late and the curfew is almost here, don’t want to get in trouble with the cops, especially when everyone needs their Spider-Man to save the day.” You said, kissing his forehead.

“It’s a date then,” Peter said, kissing You back.

[yjano]

Who I am now?

Part 7.

Pairing: Jake x Mc.

Genre: Angst, comedy, dark romance.

Warnings: Strong language, angst scenes. 18+ content can be found.

Words: 7.6k

Author's note: This story contains mature topics and is not fully related to the duskwood game. A different parallel with different personalities. Thank you everyone for following and liking this! lly.♡

•

.

Mc focus.

.

"Fuck-I can't do this anymore!" Jace grunted as he unceremoniously dumped me onto the side of the road. His signature made me land on my butt, crying out in pain at the harsh impact of hard concrete against my swollen ankle, I leaned over to cradle my injury with shaky hands.

Jace instead of apologizing profusely like I wanted him to do, rakes a hand through his matted hair and mutters a few incomprehensible words to himself. I ignored the boy and ducked my head, inspecting my injured ankle with worry.

I want to be anywhere but here. I don't want to be with him anymore. I should've run away from him earlier when I had the chance.

I looked over at Jace at the last thought, glaring at the guy who stands there, swallowing large swigs of lukewarm water whilst wiping the beads of sweat collecting on his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.

.

Jake focus.

.

I bagged my water bottle whilst surveying my lack of unique surroundings. Absolutely nothing catch my eye, just endless fields of corn and the occasional creepy scarecrow would pop up in the distance.

Whilst performing some stretches to ease the heaviness of my tired arms, I looked back down at Mc who was glaring up at me from under her dark lashes.

"What?" I questioned blankly. I didn't have any niceness left in me after I almost died in the mine.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too, Mc," I replied, almost casually. I switched to my other arm and stretched my muscles, grimacing at the dull ache ebbing away at my joints.

"No, fuck you." I looked back down at her words. "I said it first." Mc spitted out defiantly, ignoring my raised eyebrows.

"Doesn't matter so fuck you." I pathetically retorted after a few seconds of trying and failing to come up with something smart.

"Fuck you, you annoying dickhead."

She muttered the "annoying dickhead" part.

But somehow I managed to hear her.

"What'd just call me?"

"I called you a dickhead." She said slowly drawing out the word "dickhead" as if I had never heard of the item before.

"Wh-"

"Sorry to interrupt your conversation but are you two okay? Do you need any help? You seemed to be injured."

Both of us stopped our childish bickering at once and craned our necks around to see an elderly woman sitting in the driver's seat of a small cherry-colored honda. Friendly hazel eyes stare back at us.

I blinked a few times at the car in front of me. It was nothing much, just a beat-up old car that doesn't quite reach my impeccable car standards, but it was a car. A vehicle. A way to travel around without having to personally carry my clumsy gir- Mc and test my strength.

I looked back at the driver, and an aged woman with a wide smile stared back at me. Her browned wrinkled skin and friendliness seemed to ooze right out of her beatific smile. Maybe she'll give us a ride into town?

Quickly hanging my previously bland facial expression to one with pity imprinted on my features. I started to lie...Ever again.

"Ah hi! Yes, uh, unfortunately, our car got stolen just a few minutes ago! My girlfriend here stupidly decided to run after the car but she slipped and sprained her ankle. It's pretty bad...She can't walk so I've been carrying her but it's starting to get strenuous for my arms and the weather isn't helping." I toned out, trying to sound as pitiful as I could.

I had to suppress the satisfied smile that started to grow on my face when the elderly woman smiled at me sympathetically, her ashy white eyebrows furrowing with pity.

"Oh my, what a good boyfriend you are! It's lovely to see you guys take care of each other." She rambled, looking to Mc. "Ah, and it's such pity about your car. Where were you headed to? I might be able to take you there."

Thank god.

I was about to answer the woman and thank her but suddenly Mc cut in.

"The police station, please." Mc pipes up from behind me, making my whole body stiffen.

"I'd like to report this dickhead for kidnap-"

"Oh, my poor baby." I gritted out with 'fake' care, turning and bending down on the concrete to come face to face with an annoyed Mc. Before she could comprehend what was happening, I wrapped my arm suffocatingly tight around Mc's thin frame.

"Say anything and the old lady gets it." I threatened in a whisper beside her ear. Immediately Mc's form become rigid in my arms.

"You can't kill her. She's innocent, she hasn't done anything!" Mc urgently whispered back with her hands flying to land on my forearm, digging her nails into me to make her point. Her former angry and annoyed demeanor is hastily replaced by one full of shock and worry.

Of course, I'm not gonna kill a defenseless old lady,  because despite being the infamous hacker man, the number one most lethal anonymous gang leader, and a proud self-employed assassin. I had strict rules. I wasn't a gun-wielding maniac who'd kill and waste bullets on someone who annoyed me or who was in my way. I indeed had killed a few FBI agents who were after me for my defense. But I never touched civils. But Mc didn't know that, did she?

"Then I suggest you stay calm," I warned quietly before suddenly heightening my volume to a worried quiver, making sure the old woman would hear my distress.

"The sun's been making her crazy. She's been like this for the past half hour." I lied. Ever again.

"Oh dear, you better get in. I'll give you a ride to the next town. It's only a couple of minutes away." I looked over my shoulder at the elderly and forced my face to crumple up with fake gratitude.

"Thank you!"

Her wizened face instantly softened and I had to look away to not feel the protruding guilt creep in. I was, after all, tricking an elderly woman. I looked back at Mc.

"Come here my baby, let's get you up," I said forcefully cheerfully, slipping my arms under Mc's armpits and lifting her. Propping her up against my chest so her weight wasn't on her injured foot and she wouldn't fall over and cuss freely at me. I heard Mc murmur quietly.

"You told that truck driver, we were a couple and now you're saying the same again. Fuck you JD."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring Mc and looking over at granny who had climbed out of her seat to help open up the passenger door for me and Mc.

"I'm afraid there's only one seat, the backseats are all dirty and they're already taken by my bunnies." She said, holding open the car door with one hand whilst adjusting her oversized dress with the other.

"Bunnies?" I questioned, Mc, who was unwillingly leaning into me not to fall over, also looked over at the beaming woman with blankness in her big eyes.

"Yes my pretty bunnies." She waddled over to the backseat door and opened it, revealing three, maybe four different colors bunnies.

"Bunnies..." Mc sighed in disbelief. Still holding Mc up, I blinked my eyes also in disbelief.

"Mhm!" Granny hummed happily. "Bought these babies from the market, they were on sale. Half price, all of them! They'll make an excellent addition to my farm!" The elderly woman beamed, clearly pleased with her purchase.

"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that there's only one seat available at the front. You'll have to share the seat." Granny smiled at us.

"We'll share the seat at the front. Thank you." I muttered whilst shifting Mc in my hold. Although Mc was annoyed with me, she still silently allowed me to manhandle her into the embarrassing bridal-style hold again.

"Easy does it. watch out for her ankle. That looks nasty, sweetheart." The elderly hissed as she hovered around us worriedly.

"We'll be in the next town in no time, don't worry." She assured me with a bright smile when the two of us are safely seated. She slammed the car door shut and totter around the bonnet of the car to the driver's seat slowly.

I shifted under Mc. Trying to find a comfortable spot and feeling her body stiffen. She looked over her shoulder to come face to face with a suffocated-looking me. Her cheeks flushed light red and her eyes got wider.

"Am I sitting on your lap?"

"Yes." I sounded choked. Feeling her body pressed against me, made me feel things I didn't want to.

Mc flickered her eyes downwards and sure enough, she realized that she was perched atop my thighs.

"Oh my god, oh my fucking god," Mc repeated, with a low hiss.

"Please shut up this is equally awkward for me."

"No, it's not. It's worse for me because you're my kidnapper."

"Just shut up."

"Please get off me."

"You're on me."

"My fucking leg is practically dead, how am I supposed to move?"

"How am I supposed to move with you weighing me down with your damn ass?"

Her mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?"

"Are you both seated nicely? Yes? Good." Our arguing was once again stopped by the sound of the driver's door opening and the chirpy voice of the elderly. We just sat there, sulking and fidgeting awkwardly whilst the elderly climbed into her seat, groaning slightly at the creak of her stiff hips.

"I fucking hate this," I muttered lowly beside Mc's ear, my breath fanning over the back of her neck, causing her to shiver.

"Let's go cuties!" She cheered happily, starting up the engine.

.

Mc focus.

.

The drive to the next town was supposed to be short. It's only a five-ten minute drive to the nearest motel but to both me and Jace, the car ride felt like it was being dragged out for several hours. Jace was sitting on the actual seat, his back pressed right up against the worn leather and his arms are flat by his side refusing to touch me. I also tried to stay still and as far away as possible from Jace but it was hard to do when every speed bump equaled me getting pressed against his chest.

Why I am so damn unlucky? I prayed that the elderly driver would fucking notch the speed up to the actual speed limit and there wouldn't be any more speed bumps along the way.

Please hurry up and finish this drive already, I'm dying here. I whined mentally, shifting around the slightest bit on Jace's lap, feeling slight self-consciousness. The elderly don't seem to sense the awkward auras surrounding us, continuing to chatter about her farm, and kids. She even talked about possible names for her bunnies. We had practically learned all about the elderly life story in the small time we were in the car with her.

Thankfully, before the elderly could start her new story, the car pulled up outside the motel and Jace abruptly interrupted the senior.

"Oh, is this the place you recommended?" Jace questioned rhetorically. "We're here already? Thank you for everything you've done, you've helped us so much." He smiled forcefully. "We should go now-"

"Let me walk you guys in there. The owner's close to me, I might ask her to get you new clothes and good meals for a few days."

"That's not necessary, don't worry-"

"Quiet. Let's get your poor girlfriend some ice for her foot and food for your growling bellies.'

"Granny-"

"Let's go!" The overly happy woman grinned, pushing open her car's door and climbing out haphazardly.

"Oh my fucking god." I heard Jace breathe out, exasperated.

"The lady's just being nice. A little too nice though." I murmured the last bit.

"Yeah yeah, let's hurry up and get out here. I can smell the bunny's shit behind me." He rolled his eyes, carefully getting out of the car with me in his arms. Jace thanked the elderly for everything and walked me inside the room, breathing out heavily.

I silently studied the room the elderly had bagged for us. It's a cozy-looking room, the faded blue and white color scheme comforted me. A queen-sized bed donning white crisp sheets sits against a wall alongside two sets of plain drawers on either side. A single armchair and a chestnut brown coffee table are situated at the foot of the bed. There are doors set in the room's walls which lead to the toilet and to a tiny balcony where smaller potted plants reside.

I dragged my eyes downwards at the pot of steaming spicy soup which warmed my hands, I took a spoon, raised my eyes, and watched Jace in front of me eat with awe.

I've never seen anyone eat so fast. Jace was sitting hunched in a tasteful armchair across my bed, ravenously gulping down the contents of his soup pot, downing the food with large gulps of water. I paused halfway my slurping and mouthed a small 'o' as I watched on with fascination.

He must've felt my gaze on him because he looked up, snapping his glare at me, making me quickly look away. Jacxde sighed blankly questioning me. "what?"

I looked down at my untouched soup pot. I gazed back up to see an unimpressed Jace looking at me. I lifted my soup slowly, offering the pot to Jace.

"I'm not hungry." I hummed, motioning for Jace to take the noodles. Of course, I felt hungry inside but Jace was looking like he was hungry still. He looked surprised for a split second but quickly recovered himself, standing up to reach over and grab the still-hot soup pot.

"Don't complain later saying that you're hungry." He ordered, sitting back down in his seat.

"I won't," I mumbled, laying down and pressing my face against the soft pillow. Falling asleep almost instantly after the long day I'd had.

I'm hungry.

That is what I thought as soon as I woke up.

It's still dark, no light streams in through the small slit in the curtains, and the room is fully sheathed in black. Because of the aforementioned reason, I took a second to adjust my eyes to the darkness, blinking rapidly and trying to concentrate on the unknown objects in the room.

My eyes landed on the red glowing numbers of the tiny alarm clock sitting on the bedside table, I peered over to see the time.

1 am.

I furrowed my eyebrows, annoyed that my sleep was broken because I was hungry.

I'm pretty sure that the owner gave me an extra pot of soup. Sleepily I dragged my eyes over the room, trying to spot the spicy soup pot. For my luck, I spotted it almost immediately. The soup sat atop the slightly chipped coffee table, tempting me to get up. I wiped the sleep out of the corner of my eyes and planned to climb out of the bed, wander over to the coffee table and heat the soup. Just as I was about to move to get up, strong arms tugged my waist, pulling me closer to someone's chest. I froze looking down at the hand wrapped around my waist, which clutched at the front of my shirt, bunching the material up.

Horror burrows deep in my chest when I latched on to the feeling of two legs intertwined with my bare ones. Panic set into me.

What's going on? Whose legs are these? Who's hugging me? Oh my god, where am I again? Fuck, who's touching me?

"Mc, stop moving."

What the hell?

I forced myself to stay calm and not lose my shit, slowly craning my neck to look at the person who had uttered the single syllable: Mc.

My eyes landed on the face sleeping beside me. Focusing on the person's features. I spotted tufts of dark hair sticking up, an earring embedded into an ear, a small mole residing under his closed eye, the little scar under his eye, bare skin...That's Jace, right?

My already widened eyes widen a millimeter more as my pupils adjusted to a slightly fuzzy image of a sleeping and shirtless jungkook beside me.

Jace, my fucking kidnapper is cuddling and playing footsie with me. I screamed as soon as the thought hit back home.

Jace woke up with furrowed eyebrows, blinking slowly as he tried to find his surroundings and the source of the scream. He indeed found his surroundings soon when his eyes landed on my face. His icy blue eyes widen slowly as the realization sets in.

"Fucking hell-" He yelped loudly when he administered my closeness and our current position. He immediately loosened his hold around my waist to scramble away from me. I quickly did the same, forcefully trying to disentangle my limbs from Jace's with haste. I was thankfully successful, quickly pulling away from the twisted bedsheets and Jace, but after doing it with such force, I fling myself off my side of the bed, toppling backward with a loud crash, dragging the bedside table and sheets down with me.

"What the hell?" Jace questioned as he hastily climbed off the bed, acting as if the bed was a pit of scathing hot lava and not just a squeaky mattress. He regained himself and stand on his side of the bed, breathing hard as he raked a hand through his tousled bed hair.

"Oh, my god." I gasped out loudly, laying there on the room carpet, attempting to calm the freaked-out myself, I started to count from 1 to 10.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh my god!" I repeated louder.

"What are you doing?" Jace repeated with a low tone.

"What are you doing?" I retorted, scrabbling to my feet and pushing the surprisingly light bedside table aside. I jumped up, pointing accusatory fingers at Jace whilst shrouding myself in the bedsheets as if the paper-thin blanket could protect me from him.

"What?" Jace glared at me.

"What!" I yelled at him throwing a cushion at him.

"Wha-"

"If you told me we were sharing a bed, I would've fucking slept on the floor!"

"I didn't wanna share a bed I was gonna sleep on the couch because of your stupid ankle!"

"First of all my ankle is not stupid! Second of all if that's the case then why are you sleeping beside me?!"

"I was too tired after carrying you all day, so I must've just blacked out and fell on the bed. Not a fucking big deal!"

"Not a big deal? You were freaking hugging me, you asshole!"

"I wasn't fucking hugging you, get outta your imagination first."

"You had your arms around me and you were playing with my feet!"

"There's no way that I did that. Shut the hell up."

"Yes, you did! You called me by my name too!"

.

Jake focus.

.

I lost the angered tone and the rising volume of my words. Shock filled my body.

"I called you?"

"Mhm, you did!" Mc grunted, gripping the blanket wrapped tightly around her.

"Oh." My voice went flat, I raked a hand through my hair again. My dark locks fell over my blank eyes. Mc continued wildly flinging accusations at me but I just ignored her, looking into space with a lump in my throat.

Fucking hell, I called her in my dream and hugged her. What the fuck, Jake? She doesn't know who you are, what the hell are you doing?

I subconsciously raised a hand to my mouth, enclosing my lips around my index nail and nibbling on it whilst thinking deeply.

Of course, I had to fuck this up when she was this close to me. It took me months to realize that whatever Thomas had said was true. I never deserved her. I never deserved to appear in her fucking life. But here I am. Masking my identity to just be close to her. I have to act like she's nothing in my life so I could let go of her.

A pillow to the face wakes me up from my mental debate the impact startling me the slightest bit and causing me to break away from my thoughts and look at Mc.

.

Mc focus.

.

Irritated I stood on the opposite side of the bed, arms crossed over my chest and a frown teetering on my face. My stance is crooked, most likely because my ankle was sprained but that doesn't stop me from impatiently and awkwardly tapping my foot against the carpet.

"If you apologize right now, I won't include this scene when I will file a report to the lawsuit." I stated, glaring at him.

"Sorry," Jace muttered, half out of it.

I blinked my eyes slowly. "That was easier than I thought. Wow." I cleared my throat, crossing my arms.

"But I still refuse to sleep in the same bed as you."

"Fine. Take the bed." Jace murmured now completely out of it. I stared at him surprised, he silently reached into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a squashed packet of his cigarettes he'd forgotten to pull off his jeans and change into something comfier earlier.

He uncapped the packet, pulling a thin cigarette out before silently turning his back on me to walk towards the room's balcony. With a particularly harsh yank on Jace's end, the rusted balcony door opened and he exited leaving me to stand there beside the bed, slightly limping and engulfed in layers of blanket.

What the hell happened to him?

"Rise and shine!" I am awoken to sharp bangs on the room door and the shrill voice of someone outside, probably the voice of the owner.

I yawned, laying in bed for a couple of minutes, half-heartedly mustering the will to get up, and eventually with another yawn, I sat up in bed and stretched my limbs. I scanned the room, looking for any signs of Jace but I couldn't find the guy anywhere. He's not sleeping on the cramped couch and he's not on the balcony smoking his cigarettes. So he must've left to go somewhere. I rubbed my eyes sleepily.

Thank god, I don't wanna see him after what happened last night, I shuddered remembering the strange feeling of Jace's arms wrapped around my waist. Shaking my head and pushing any thoughts of Jace out of my mind, I scratched my head and slide off the bed, gingerly landing on my left foot to see the condition of my swollen ankle.

The swelling and the bruising's gone down considerably, thanks to the ice pack and the hours of rest I received so I can manage walking with a limp. I limped over to the bathroom door, tugging the door open, careful not to yank the door into my chest and knock myself out or something like that.

The room was sparkling white and clean. The floor and toilet seat look useable and the walls are painted a nice shade of grey. The only thing littering the tiled floor is a soft bath mat. I rubbed my toes into the individual strands and enjoyed the softness.

I sighed happily when I spotted the shower. I need to take one. Catching the sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, I scrunched my nose in disgust at the dirt-smeared shirt and the salty scent of sweat that lingers around my upper body.

Padding over to the shower, I eagerly stripped my clothes and stand under warm water, cleaning the dirt that surrounded me with body washes and massaging my head with shampoo. Feeling a relaxing feeling rushing through my body I gazed at the window, thinking about using it to escape and run away, but remembering the last time I tried to escape using a window I was stuck on a mini roof for half an hour.

Sighing I edged to the left of the bathtub slightly. Feeling my foot curl around the moist shower curtain, I squirmed trying to unravel the curtain off of my ankle. I tugged my ankle away a little too hard and ended up slipping on the little water pooling on the floor. Falling backward, and ripping the shower curtain down with me.

"Fuckity! My back." I groaned loudly, pain erupting in my back from colliding with the bathtub. The string of curses leaves my mouth as I tried to get the material off of me but it covered my face and I felt like being suffocated. All I can see and feel is a cream-colored shower curtain and wet material slapping my cheeks.

Suddenly, the shower curtain lifts off of my face and I stop moving my body, blinking blankly when the curtain moved out of my vision, allowing me to see again. Immediately I noticed Jace towering above me, glowering at me.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Well...I showered and spilled?" I quickly mumbled, looking away hurriedly and covering my body with the curtain cloth.

"What?" Jace started but shook his head, changing his words, he muttered out a quiet "Whatever" under his breath and outstretched a hand in my direction.

I visibly flinched and scooted away from his hand, regarding him warily and pulling my knees to my chest, hugging myself protectively whilst keeping an eye on Jace for any sudden movements.

"What?" Jace repeats, exasperated.

"You might do more than hug me now. God knows you freaky asshole." I narrowed my eyes at him, clutching my hands on the curtain material.

.

Jake focus.

.

My eyes narrow into thin slits when Mc mentioned the word 'freaky asshole' the single words triggered the dark memories made last night, to flow through my mind again.

"I'm not gonna do anything, last night was an accident. I thought you were someone else. I apologize for that but I did not intend to do anything else with you." I hissed, giving her a look. "And I don't intend to do it now either, so can we please ignore last night and forget about what happened?" I questioned. Mc opened her mouth to reply but I cut in without listening to her words.

"Okay, thank you."

"But-"

"Now that we've discussed last night-"

"We didn't discuss-"

"-You should probably change into the new clothes instead of laying there naked. Yea?" I cleared my throat, turning my gaze away from her.

"Here, I went out and got a bunch of shit for you to use. Toothbrush, clothes, etc. You have ten minutes. Change." I ordered tersely whilst impatiently waiting for her to take the plastic bag from my hands. She looked up and only then she noticed the plain plastic bag in my hand. Without another word, she took the plastic bag after giving me a warning look.

Once she took the plastic bag I turned on the balls of my feet and walked briskly towards the bathroom door.

"Hurry up. The owner is sending up breakfast for us and if you're not quick enough, I'll eat yours," I yelled over my shoulder before slamming the door shut, leaving Mc alone once again.

After coming back from the balcony after smoking I realized Mc wasn't done yet. I pinched the bridge of my nose feeling annoyed inside.

"Hey, Mc if you're not out of the bathroom in 2 seconds, I'm gonna eat your breakfast," I called out, sitting down on the armchair and crossing my arms. I heard her quickly pad over to the bathroom door, bare feet smacking the polished tiles, a fleeting thought passes through my head, a thought that I forced out of my head as quickly as it had entered. Remembering her helpless laying on the bathroom floor with wet hair dropping on her shoulders.

Fuck...I don't know for how long I'll be able to fake it all.

.

Mc focus.

.

The strong scent of toast overwhelmed me as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes immediately drifted over to the source of the smell, stomach growling already at the sight of food.

Breakfast food is placed on the coffee table. Glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice perfectly browned toast with tiny butter and jam spread, homemade choc chip muffins, and croissants tempt me to walk right over and plonk myself by the coffee table. But I immediately stopped myself when I noticed Jace across the room, sitting hunched in the armchair, busy studying a map.

Jace not looking up, distractedly mutter out a "help yourself" to me. Without a word, I seated myself on the edge of the bed, reaching over for one of the still-warm muffins. Whilst casually shaking a towel through my damp hair, I spotted something else among the breakfast items. A worn-looking tv remote sit desolate and forgotten.

Discarding the towel in my hand and taking a huge bite out of a homemade muffin, I leaned over and took the thin device in my hand. The tv looks outdated, like something from the 90s, and I'm not sure if the tv will even turn on. Nevertheless, I fiddled with the buttons and eventually managed to turn the television on. The screen immediately shows a pinstripe suit-clad man sitting behind a desk, holding a stack of meaningless papers that he sifts through before suddenly announcing my name.

"Mc, the girl who helped the police to solve the case with her friends..." I stopped chewing when I heard my name. I straightened my back and listened closely. "Is still missing. Family members are distraught about their daughter's disappearance and refuse to comment on the situation-"

Feeling sick all of a sudden, I set the muffin down on the coffee table and reached over for the orange juice, my mouth requires liquid to appease the dry scratchy feeling residing in the back of my throat. I quickly gulped down the juice whilst listening in on the newsman's report, my whole attention was completely focused on the old tv model.

.

Jake focus.

.

I frowned at the map in front of my eyes. I can't seem to figure out the safest and easiest way to get both, me and Mc, across the city without having the police and FBI on our tails. I leaned back against the armchair and heaved a sigh, running a hand through my already messy hair

I tried to focus on the different lines on the paper map spread out on my lap. But half me was listening in to the drone of the newsman reporting Mc's disappearance. I leaned forward and uncapped a red marker, scratching an x on the outskirts of the duskwood where we were currently, and placed another cross at our final destination. A destination that would surely take days to arrive at. Considering the circumstances.

A faint buzz from my phone 6 me of a message, the screen lighting up. Causing me to divert my attention to the device, completely forgetting about the map. I unlocked my phone and tapped on the message notification from Nymos, waiting for the messages to load.

N: I saw the news, Jake.

N: What the fuck were you doing in a love motel room with her?

N: The FBI is just one step behind you because of these slip-ups. Jake when I told you to take it easy I meant it. Don't change your plan just because you're getting softer.

J: Nothing happened, don't worry.

N: You're not feeling sorry, are you?

J: No.

N: Maybe you should back out of this.

N: It's not too late for you to reveal everything.

J: Stop worrying.

N: If you say so, brother.

J: :)

N: How's the situation? How's Mc?

J: I had to ditch the car because the cops were on to us. And probably the FBI too. They're hot on my heels. I might need your help to trick them into my fake whereabouts.

N: Fine. I'll see what I can do. Take care, bro. Logging off now.

I was about to reply to Nymos but the sound of someone sniffling made me pause. I lifted my head to see Mc sniffling, sitting there on the bed. I watched little saltwater gather at the corner of her eyes whilst praying to the heavens above to not make her cry.

"Stop crying, Mc."

"I can't." She chokes out, holding her gaze on the tv.

My eyes flit back to the map laid out on my lap. I studied the thick yellow lines passing through duskwood with newfound concentration, with eyebrows furrowed, I murmured out a half-hearted "That's nice."

"You're meant to ask me why I can't stop crying!" Mc sniffed, incredulous at the lack of concern.

I dragged my eyes upwards from the map and stared hard at Mc for a few seconds before rolling my eyes and mumbling the words.

"And why can't you stop crying?"

"I just can't! My friends are worried. I can't imagine how Jessy is doing. And me...I should be escaping, but I can't escape because you're sitting right here. Can't you go outside to smoke for a second and let me attempt to run away?" She bawled, wiping her upcoming tears and silently staring at me.

"You know I can't let you do that." I braced myself, shifting my gaze away quickly. I can't even look at her eyes anymore.

Without saying anything she turned away from me and flopped onto her side, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest. I watched her with an unimpressed raised eyebrow. I know you're not weak Mc. You're just putting the show so the kidnapper would let you go. But I know the real you.

Time goes by and I find myself fully absorbed into the map, planning out a route for me and Mc to take. Fat red lines cover the paper map's surface, indicating fast pathways, roads, and motorways.

I occasionally looked up to check on Mc but she had pretty much stayed in the same spot as before. Curled up on the bed with a pillow on her chest. She watched the movie blankly. With disappointment visible on her face.

Mc was walking around the motel room lifelessly. She lifelessly picked up items and lifelessly put items back down and then started up a lifeless round of walking across the room and back.

I hated to see her like this, but...

.

Mc focus.

.

Jace had left earlier, saying he'd be back soon with lunch. I had only replied with a soft sigh and said nothing else to him.

Now alone, I was sitting where Jace had sat just ten minutes ago. The leather armchair was cool against my skin. I reached over for the map laid out on the coffee table, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl. I slowly studied Jace's messy annotations with narrow eyes.

Where is he taking me now?

I surveyed the black-inked scrawls decorating the flimsy paper. I found where we currently are with the help of a thick red cross marking the area. A black line follows a road from the red cross to an unidentifiable place. The words

"Get a car from River here." Was written in tiny script.

River? Who's he? What is this place? I was trying to think, scrutinizing the intricate lines and dots covering the map. Unable to figure out where we were headed or read Jace's ineligible handwriting. I placed the map back on the table and peeled the banana, sighing heavily.

Somehow three hours had passed by.

In the three hours that passed by, Jace and I had both stayed quiet and just ate fried rice. After our much-appreciated meal, I went back to watching tv listlessly and Jace went back to heavily annotating his poor map.

.

Jake focus.

.

"Stop screaming! Listen to me. I'm coming your way and need a car. Can you arrange one? Good. I'll see you." After a few busy phone calls to one of my friends and more annotations on the map, I breathed out a heavy sigh and folded the map up carefully slotting the folded paper into my backpack. I leaned back and rummaged inside my jacket pocket, reaching in for my cigarettes.

That's travel arrangements and the route is done, I thought to myself. Resting my head against the brown leather armchair. I found the lighter and moved it to light up my cigarette, eager to lose the stress and tension that clung to my head.

Now the only worry is if Mc will follow the plan and not fuck it up. That and the dozen police officers that seem to be stationed at every fucking road in this stupid town, making it easier for the FBI to track me down. I pressed the cigarette to my lips and inhaled the burning scent that already lingered around the thin tube in my hands. Opening my mouth I let out the almost weightless cigarette sit between my lips. I breathed in thinking about her again. Where is she?

I turned my head slowly to the balcony where the angered clouds look like they were taking over the world, spreading out far and wide over the town and past it and all the whilst teeming with water threatening to drench whoever was out on the streets. I wondered when the first drop will fall.

I was about to look away but a movement on the far side of the balcony caught my attention. I focused my gaze on the figure that was leaning on the balcony railing, cheek placed in the palm of her tiny left hand. I watched Mc start to pick at the paint peeling on the railing whilst blowing out small clouds of smoke from my lips, slowly getting up.

.

Mc focus.

.

I peeled at the tough white paint layering the balcony railing I was leaning against and threw the little white shreds over the balcony, watching the peels flutter and cascade down to the grey concrete down below.

I want to go home.

I sighed, stopping peeling off more paint. I suddenly felt very sick. Just the thought of Jessy getting sick worried about my disappearance, Dan trying to hold his shit together, Lilly getting flashbacks of fear because of her sister and now me. Hannah...Well, we weren't that close. I wasn't her friend, just someone who had helped her and she did show a lot of gratitude for that. Cleo is probably trying to stay positive and Thomas is well...I don't think he is thinking about my disappearance too much, because he has to take care of Hannah first.

"It's raining." Someone mumbled behind me in a quiet rasp. The prominent scent of cigarettes filled and overwhelmed my senses. I looked up and sure enough, the clouds had finally burst and now a steady drizzle falls the town's buildings and concrete grounds, streaking the grey concrete with a light splash of water.

"Come on," Jace hummed from behind. I looked over my shoulder to see Jace walk around our shared room, making a way for the front door where he slipped his feet into a pair of boots. He looked back up at me and waited expectantly for me to move.

I reluctantly moved away from the balcony and padded into the room with slightly wet flip-flops sticking to the wooden flooring. I dragged my eyes upward to see Jace expertly pulling off his hoodie whilst juggling with his lit cigarette. He pulled the hoodie off and without mentioning anything, he threw the garment at me.

"Wear it." Jace muttered as he took a long drag of his cigarette. He held it in for a few calming seconds, before releasing the smoke, exhaling slowly.

"Unless you wanna catch a cold." Jace turned around and unlocked the room door with his set of keys and pushed open the door.

"Hurry up." He called over his shoulder as he walked through the doorway and out. I felt a little confused. I forced my arms and head through the holes of Jace's hoodie and tugged the item on as I attempted to walk through the open doorway with the hoodie obscuring my vision. I managed to get out after stubbing my toes a couple of times on the door and finally tugging the clothing piece over my head.

With my flip flops thwacking against the staircase's polished floor, I struggled to bound after Jace with his fast-paced marching and me with still healing sprained ankle. I sighed heavily, spotting Jace crossing the empty lobby towards the entrance. He yanked the door open and stood by the open doorway, waiting for me once again. Rain poured in through the doorway.

"Where are we going now?" I breathed out after moving so much in just under a minute.

"Nowhere," Jace replied bluntly as he leaned against the front door, staring at me.

"Then what are we doing here?"

"We are." He started but then paused to tap the ash growing at one end of his cigarette, onto the floor.

"Going to do number one on your bucket list. Dance in the fucking rain, Mc."

He's going to let me do my bucket list? I blinked my eyes slowly.

"Oh- I'm not really in the mood to dance." I trailed off.

"Just go out there and dance around a little. Stop looking so dead, you're making me feel depressed."

"How am I supposed to be lively when I'm being held fucking captive?" I muttered under my breath as I passed by Jace. I stepped out, my sandalled feet squelched under a puddle. Pretty much an empty car park puddles are filling up potholes in the tarmac and a drain in the road nearby gurgles. Everything is pretty much a horrible shade of grey.

I was met by a spray of rainwater, the thin drizzle just about okay to stand under. But even so, I shivered and clutched my forearms. I looked back at Jace who stood by the doorframe, casually taking in lengthy dregs of smoke into his lungs.

I looked out at the barely used car park. This isn't what I expected-when I meant dancing in the rain, I meant dancing around in heavy downpours in the middle of somewhere that isn't a damn car park. I meant dancing with Jake. I wasn't intending on dancing alone in a freaking parking lot. I turned around and limped back towards Jace.

.

Jake focus.

.

"What happened?" I asked upon seeing Mc wander back inside.

"It's awkward to move around with my sprained ankle. Can't move around much." She mumbled out pathetically.

I stubbed out my cigarette by letting it drop to the floor, crushing it underfoot, and grinding the remainder of the cigarette into the carpet.

"I don't do this bucket list shit with just anyone so be grateful and make the most of it," I grunted, taking Mc's hand into my grip and tugging her to motion her to move outside.

"Hey-" Mc nearly tripped over the doormat when I hurriedly dragged her out to shut the door behind us.

Rainwater rained down on our faces and clothes, soaking us as we walked to the center of the parking lot. Once there, I stood there facing Mc whilst staring into her eyes

"Dance."

"I told you, I can't-

"Shut up and make the most of it. Use me as a stand and dance around holding my hand."

"But-"

"No buts. You wanted to do this, didn't you?"

"Yeah, bu-"

"Great, now dance."

I sighed. I was desperate for this.

"Let me help you out then."

I took her other hand and pushed her away causing Mc to hurtle backward unsteadily but my grip stayed on her hands as I pulled her back to my chest.

.

Mc focus.

.

I was shocked at Jace's movements. I let myself fall onto his white t-shirt-clad chest weakly. I felt my right arm raise into the air with the help of Jace. He moved away from me before I could process what was going on. He performed a quick series of spins, spinning me around crazily on the spot.

The world is a blur before my eyes. A blank shade of grey with hints of color beneath the asphalt color. I can feel tiny raindrops drive into my skin and soak my clothes, making my hideous shorts stick to my legs. Despite the horrible feeling of wet clothes, wet hair, the dull ache resonating in my ankle, and the weird feeling arising knowing that Jace was in a way dancing with me. I enjoyed being spun around and flung crazily to the beat of the rainfall. It's different from the dancing I usually do back home.

So despite everything and my previously depressed and homesick state, I threw my head back as he was spinning me and laughed. I was freaking laughing when Jace was spinning me. I stared at the sky letting the raindrops fall on my face.

.

Jace focus.

.

When Mc laughed, when she softly but surely laughed, I was caught off guard. I was not expecting that. Nevertheless, her laugh was making me smile.

I stopped the spinning for a second when Mc nearly tripped and landed on her face, laughing. I held her hands whilst trying to mask my small smile.

"You said you normally don't do bucket lists with anyone..." Mc breathed out, widely smiling. "Why exactly are you doing this with me?"

I thought for a second before spinning her again. "Because you're different, Mc."

"Different?" Mc queried in between breathy laughs as I kept spinning her around.

I coughed, looking at her beautiful smile.

"Shut up Mc just enjoy the favor - don't question it."

[wellsayhelloaagin]

Tempt- Beckon Part Four

Summary: Sunday breakfast takes a surprising turn when Wanda invites you and Natasha over.

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha x f!reader

Genre: Smut (top!reader, bottom!Natasha, bottom!Wanda)

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: fingering, oral, voyeurism, exhibitionism, threesome, strap on use, degredation, praise kink, swearing, spanking, oral on strap, overstim, masturbation, food play

AN: This took way too long, I have no excuses really. Life just be like that some times.

The wheels of the shopping cart rattled obnoxiously as Wanda tried to manoeuvre her way through the grocery store, trying to avoid running into unsupervised children and elderly shoppers who couldn’t see more than two feet in front of them.

It was Sunday morning and when she stumbled to the kitchen this morning, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she did so, Wanda discovered that there was no food left in her house. Cursing herself internally, she quickly raced upstairs to shower before hurrying out the door in the hope of beating the family crowds.

But to top off her already shitty week, she found the store packed with more people than she was willing to deal with. It only added to her foul mood and every second found her fighting the urge to scream.

It had been a week since the barbeque, since the night that you and Natasha had welcomed her into your lives and changed Wanda’s for the better.

When she had left the next day, thoroughly fucked and satisfied, you had told her not to be a stranger. Wanda had taken that to mean that you were trying to give her some control, to ensure that this was what she really wanted by waiting for her to make the next move.

The only problem was, Wanda was far too shy to take the initiative, despite her body crying out for the release that only you could bring her. She had worn out the batteries in her favourite toy but it just wasn’t the same, not now that Wanda knew what she was missing.

She thought that maybe talking to Natasha would be easier, to mention to the redhead that she’d like to come over one night after work. But every time she had tried, the words had gotten stuck in her throat. 

So here she was, sexually frustrated and stuck in the grocery store trying to find something to make for breakfast. 

She passes through the fresh fruit section, spying some tempting-looking strawberries. Wanda decides that maybe some pancakes might make her feel better about her lack of a spine.

She’s reaching for a punnet, trying to work out which one housed the most decadent-looking fruit when she hears a voice beside her that sends a thrill right through her body.

“Hey, neighbour.”

Wanda turns to find you staring there, Natasha by your side. You both look relaxed, your casual weekend clothes looking far too good on your bodies for Wanda’s liking. It was already hard enough to think in your presence and now Wanda had to deal with your welcoming smile and the sliver of skin exposed by your shirt that had risen above the waistband of your jeans.

“Hey,” Wanda returns, grateful for her voice remaining steady for once.

“I’m starting to think you’d forgotten about us,” you pout, Wanda’s eyes drawn to the way your lower lip juts out. “We’ve missed you this week.”

“Yeah, I-” Wanda begins but her voice trails off when Natasha’s hand reaches around your waist, fingers dipping into the top of the waistband of your pants, her head resting on your shoulder.

The casual display of intimacy has Wanda’s throat running dry, an intense wave of longing sweeping over her as her eyes fixate on Natasha’s hand.

“Sorry, what was that?” You prompt, your lips curving up at the edge.

“I, uh,” Wanda tries again, shaking her head to clear it from the cloud of lust. “I’ve just been busy.”

“That’s a shame,” Natasha chimes in, joining in on teasing Wanda. “It’s really more fun with you around.”

Wanda just nods, not entirely sure what to say. She could feel the heat rising up her neck, memories of the last time the three of you were in the same place invading her mind.

“Oh, strawberries,” you exclaim suddenly, eyeing the product in Wanda’s hand. “They look good, we should grab some.”

You tap Natasha’s hand for her to let go of you before reaching for the red fruit in front of you.

“You can have some of mine,” Wanda blurts out quickly, her mouth working faster than her mind. 

You look at her confused and Wanda wants to smack herself in the face.

“I meant,” she continues, taking a breath to calm her nerves. “I was going to use them to make some pancakes for breakfast today. Maybe you two could join me?”

Wanda looks down at her feet, praying for a hole to open her up and swallow her whole. Why did she have to be so socially inept? She misses the look you share with Natasha, the excited gleam in your eyes.

“We’d love to,” you reply, making Wanda’s stomach clench in anticipation. “Don’t forget to buy some cream though, it’s Nat’s favourite.”

You shoot Wanda a wink before grabbing Natasha’s hand, leaving the brunette standing there stunned. 

//

The knock on the door makes Wanda jump, the flour in her hand scattering over the counter. She mutters a few curse words under her breath, quickly cleaning it up before making her way to the front door.

She opens it to find you and Natasha on the other side and she is reminded of the last time you stood on her doorstep. The way you’re smiling at her makes Wanda think that you were remembering the same thing.

“Hi,” Wanda greets the two of you breathlessly, dusting the flour from her hands onto her jeans. “Come in.”

She moves to the side to let you and Natasha pass, smiling at your linked hands. You start walking toward the kitchen area while Wanda closes the front door, resting her head against it for just a moment to help calm her nerves.

By the time Wanda makes it to the kitchen, Natasha has already perched herself on one of the stools at the stone counter. You were leaning against the sink, eyes watching Wanda’s every move as she enters the room.

“Sorry, they’re not quite ready yet,” Wanda chews her lip nervously. “It shouldn’t take much longer. You can wait in the living room if you want.”

“Don’t be silly, Detka,” Natasha replies, leaning forward on her elbows and giving Wanda a clear view down her shirt. “We can help, what do you want us to do?”

“Um,” Wanda swallows thickly, distracted by the swell of Natasha's breasts. “You could cut the strawberries?”

Natasha smiles, leaning back in her seat. “Of course,” she responds, pulling the chopping board towards her. 

“What do you want me to do?” You ask, sauntering over from the other side of the room.

Wanda tries to ignore the way your proximity has her nerves on edge, the smell of your perfume invading her senses and clouding her mind.

“Could you check the cream?” she asks, pointing to the bowl on the counter. “I don’t know if I made it sweet enough.”

You nod as Wanda adds some milk to her bowl, stirring the batter and trying not to stare as you dip your finger into the bowl of cream, bringing it slowly to your mouth.

Wanda’s knees feel weak as she watches your finger disappear into your mouth, your lips closing over the digit in a sinful way.

You hum in satisfaction, walking over to stand behind Wanda. She can feel the heat of your body behind her, her stomach doing somersaults.

“It tastes delicious, sweetheart,” you murmur in her ear, moving her loose hair over one shoulder. 

The action causes Wanda to shudder and she hears you chuckle lowly behind her, the taunting sound making her thighs clench together.

“But I know something that tastes even better.”

Your voice holds promises Wanda hoped you would keep, your lips pressing gently against her neck. Her head lolls to the side, the wooden spoon clattering against the side of the bowl as she loses her grip on it.

Your lips trail lightly over the length of her neck, Wanda grabbing the edge of the counter for support as her knees start to shake.

She feels you smile against her throat, your tongue licking a stripe up her neck. She shivers as you blow cold air across it, goosebumps rising on the flesh.

“Some of us are trying to work, you know,” Natasha cuts in and Wanda's eyes snap open, watching the redhead pout across the room.

“Right, sorry,” Wanda apologises quickly, grabbing the spoon again to continue mixing the batter.

You just laugh, wrapping your arms around Wanda’s waist and hooking your head over her shoulder.

“Stop whining, it doesn’t look good on you,” you tell your girlfriend, earning a scowl from Natasha.

Wanda tries to ignore the way she can feel your breasts pressed against her back, your hips slotted in behind hers as you stand there. She adds some sugar to the batter, hands shaking as she tries to stir it in.

Her situation isn’t helped when your hands begin to wander to the front of her shirt, fingers slowly undoing the bottom button. You continue up her shirt, undoing each button you come across as your mouth returns to assaulting Wandas’ neck. 

She can feel your teeth nibbling, your lips sucking on the spots that you knew made Wanda’s knees weak. Wanda once again lets go of the mixing spoon, eyes locking with Natasha’s across the counter.

Natasha is staring at Wanda, watching as her skin is exposed by your hands. She raises a strawberry to her lips, biting into its plump flesh. Wanda watches as a bead of juice escapes her mouth, moving over her lips and down her chin. She gulps as Natasha’s tongue peeks out to lick it up, her eyes full of lust.

When Wanda’s shirt is finally undone, you tug it down her shoulders. Your fingers make quick work of the clasp of her bra, letting it drop to the floor with her shirt. Wanda can feel her nipples pebble in the cold air, her stomach clenching as your hands roam over her torso, not touching her where she wanted it most.

Natasha leans back on her stool, hungry eyes still fixed on Wanda’s bare chest. Wanda can see that her breathing has quickened, her pupils dilated with arousal. She felt wanted and it only increased her own arousal. 

Your hands finally cup her breasts, the warmth enveloping her as you massage them. She can feel the drag of your palms over her nipples and she can feel her panties growing slick between her legs.

Wanda moans softly as you pinch her nipples between your fingers, her eyes rolling back in her head at the sensation. 

“Gosh, you sound so fucking sweet,” you growl into her ear, teeth tugging on the lobe. “I bet you’re just desperate for it, aren’t you?”

Wanda just nods, gasping as one of your hands slaps the side of her breast quickly. She pushes her hips back toward you, legs rubbing together for friction.

“Such a needy thing,” Natasha laughs and Wanda’s eyes open again, finding Natasha’s hand underneath her shirt, unmistakably massaging her own breast. “I think she wants you to fuck her.”

Wanda can feel her cheeks flame at the thought, her whimper completely involuntary. 

You chuckle behind her, palming her breast roughly as your other hand trails down to the waistband of her jeans.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” You ask, fingers deftly undoing the button and dragging down the zipper of her pants. “You better ask real nice for it then, you know the deal.”

Wanda was so worked up at this point, so desperate to be touched that her normal timidness was long gone.

“Please,” she gasps as your hand dips inside her panties, finger pressing against her clit. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to fill me up and I want you to fuck me till I can’t stand.”

“Such a good girl,” you coo as Natasha smirks at the display in front of her. “Since you asked so nicely I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

You push Wanda’s pants down her legs, her panties following soon after. She kicks them off and you push her legs apart forcefully, her ass jutting out instinctively toward you.

“So sweet,” you admire, hands running over her ass in appreciation.

You give one side a sharp slap, earning a squeak from Wanda. You do it to the other side, watching the skin pink up under your hands. 

Wanda can feel your fingers at her entrance, sliding along her folds and gathering her arousal before pushing into her. She moans at the feeling as you thrust them a few times, trying to get her ready.

“So wet for me,” you mumble, your free hand undoing your own pants. “I forgot how much of an eager whore you were when I touch you.”

Wanda just moans at the words, pushing back against your fingers. She whines when you remove them, hips stuttering in the air as she closes her eyes. 

She feels your hand at her waist, gripping tightly and she stills, waiting for what would come next.

“Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart,” you tell her as you line your strap up with her entrance. “This one is new and it’s a little bigger than last time.”

Wanda knows she should be worried but she trusts you entirely, taking a deep breath as instructed. She can feel you begin to push into her, moving at a torturously slow pace. Wanda can feel the burn of the stretch, the pleasure mixing with the pain as you inch your way inside.

“That's it,” you encourage her, hand smoothing over her back as you guide yourself in. “Just keep breathing, you’re such a good girl for me.”

Your words cause Wanda to moan out loud, her ass pressing back into you a little more as the toy slips entirely inside. Wanda’s eyes are still clenched shut as you give her time to adjust, hand still comfortingly running over her back.

Wanda hears some rustling in front of her and opens her eyes, watching as Natasha pushes her shorts down her legs. She sits back on the stool, leaning back and resting her legs on the edge of the counter and giving Wanda the perfect view of her glistening pussy. 

As Natasha begins to circle her clit with her finger, her other hand on her breast, Wanda feels you pull out slowly. She can feel the drag of the toy inside her, the size meaning she could feel every single bump and ridge.

As you begin to push back in, just as torturously slow, Natasha begins to push her finger into her own entrance. Natasha’s eyes are locked on Wanda’s, the two sets of green orbs connected.

You pull out a little quicker this time, pushing back into Wanda and causing her to cry out in pleasure. Natasha’s own moans are echoing off the kitchen walls, a second finger joining the first. 

Wanda’s hands reach out, trying to find purchase on anything as you begin fucking into her, trying to find any kind of leverage to push back against you. Natasha’s free hand has now joined the first, her fingers sliding over her clit messily.

Wanda can see how wet she is, Natasha’s fingers coated in her arousal and Wanda found herself wishing she could lick it up. Your hands are gripping her hips tightly as you thrust into her and Wanda hopes that you’ll leave bruises again.

She always loved seeing the marks on her body, a reminder of feeling completely owned by you.

“Does this get you all worked up, baby?” You ask Natasha, your voice low and gravelly as you continue to fuck Wanda. “You like seeing me fuck some other slut.”

Natasha nods, adding a third finger, her hips lifting to draw them deeper.

“You look so good fucking her,” Natasha moans out, her pace quickening. “I love hearing how wet she gets for you, hearing your cock slide in and out of her desperate cunt. I bet she’s dripping all over her thighs.”

Wanda hates how much the conversation turns her on, how much she wanted to hate how the two of you were talking about her like she wasn’t in the room. But it just spurs her on, her moans growing as you pound into her.

“Do you like that sweetheart?” You ask her, hand striking her ass again as you bend your knees slightly, the new angle pushing her into the counter more. “Do you like hearing about what a greedy pussy you have?”

Wanda just nods, incapable of words as she feels the coil inside of her tightening. Her eyes are still glued to Natasha’s hand, the wet sound of her fingers filling the room.

“You going to cum, baby?” You turn your attention to Natasha again, watching her hips rock in time with her hand, knowing from the volume of her moans that she was close. 

“Yes,” Natasha moans out, hand working at a brutal pace. “Please, can I come?”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, enjoying watching Natasha try and hold herself back, eyes pleading with you.

“Of course,” you finally say. “Make a mess of your fingers for me.”

Natasha lets out a loud moan and Wanda watches the muscles in her thighs tense, Natasha’s hand becoming soaked in her juices. She slumps back into her chair, eyes heavy-lidded as she comes down from her orgasm.

You’re still pushing into Wanda, her cries growing louder and you help her climb closer to the edge. You reach around her waist, fingers quickly finding her clit and nimbly dancing over it. 

“Oh, fuck,’ Wanda whispers, head falling forward as she finds herself approaching her orgasm. 

You know she’s close, your hand around her waist supporting a lot of her body weight as her legs start to give out. You angle your hips again, the change in position making Wanda cry out loudly, the muscles in her stomach contracting under your arm.

“I’m gonna-” she pants, hands scrambling to find anything to grab onto.

“Cum for me sweetheart,” you whisper in her ear, never letting up on your assault of her clit. “I want you to cum all over my cock.”

Wanda gasps, her entire body tensing before she lets out a loud moan. You don’t stop pumping into her, your fingers still working over her clit as she shakes underneath you. You can feel her tensing up again, another orgasm washing over her quickly.

She slumps forward as you slow your thrusts, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. You press gentle kisses over her back, giving her a second to calm down. 

You pull out of Wanda, your strap coated in her arousal. She shudders at the loss, a low whine escaping her throat. She feels you tug on the back of her hair, pulling her to rest against your chest before pushing on her shoulder.

She gets the hint, dropping to her knees in front of you. You smile down at her, hand gently brushing the hair off her sweat-soaked forehead. 

“So obedient,” you praise her and Wanda feels a thrill run through her at the words. “Now be a good girl and clean your mess up.”

You nudge the tip of your strap against her lips and Wanda’s eyes go wide. 

She leans forward tentatively, her tongue darting out timidly to lick the tip of the silicone. You watch her for a few moments as she laps at the toy, eyes watching you for guidance. 

“Come here,” you beckon Natasha over and Wanda hears the scaping of the stool on the ground. 

Wanda listens to the soft pad of Natasha’s feet on the tile, her legs appearing in her peripheral vision. She watches as you cup Natasha’s cheek in your hand, pulling her in for a chaste kiss.

“Teach her how, baby,” you murmur, and Natasha sinks to her knees beside Wanda.

She wastes no time, gripping the base of the strap and sliding her mouth over the tip. She hollows out her cheeks as she takes the length of it into her mouth and Wanda couldn’t help but feel a little turned on by the sight of her boss licking her cum off your strap.

After a few seconds, she pulls off with a popping sound, a string of saliva trailing from her lip to the tip of the fake cock. Wanda acts instinctively, swiping it with her thumb before pressing it to her mouth, savouring the taste of Natasha.

You offer your hands to the two women, Wanda gratefully taking one as she stands. Her legs still feel shaky, her two orgasms had really taken it out of her. When they’re both standing, Wanda looks at you apprehensively, feeling as though she had failed.

“Don’t look so worried,” you reassure her, holding her chin between your thumb and index finger. “You did so well.”

Wanda smiles in return, the relief flowing through her. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint you, wanting to do everything in her power to make you happy. 

You smile back at her before leaning in, capturing her lips in your own. The kiss is firm and passionate, your tongue probing Wanda’s mouth as you walk her backward until she brushes against the counter.

“No fair,” Wanda hears Natasha complain and you smile into the kiss, pulling away to roll your eyes at your girlfriend.

“Would you like a turn?” You ask Natasha and she nods, stalking toward Wanda with a wicked glint in her eye.

When Natasha kisses her, Wanda lets out a small squeak at the force behind it. Natasha grips the back of Wanda’s thighs, lifting her quite easily despite being smaller than the brunette. Wanda wraps her legs around Natasha as she is placed on the edge of the counter, the cool stone making her shiver as her overheated flesh makes contact with it.

Wanda can feel your hand in her hair and she breaks the kiss with Natasha to fuse her lips to yours again, feeling dizzy from all the attention. 

When you pull away again, you’re both panting into each other's mouths and Wanda can feel the stirrings of arousal settling in her belly again.

“Want some cream, sweetheart?” You ask her, swiping some onto your finger.

Wanda nods eagerly and you smear it over her lips, her tongue darting out to lick it up. She hums at the sweet taste, aware of the eyes watching her every move.

“Want some more?” You ask her and she nods again.

You place it on her lips again but this time before she can lick it off, your tongue is there to do the job. You tug on her bottom lip with your teeth, pulling a whine from Wanda's throat. Once you’re satisfied that her lips are clean, you pull away, Wanda’s lips chasing yours.

“Like I said earlier, fucking delicious.”

Wanda beams at you, preening under the praise you were giving her. 

“Would you like to try some too?” You ask, turning your attention to Natasha.

The redhead nods and you place your finger in the bowl once more, collecting the cream on the digit. This time, you don’t place the fluffy mixture on Wanda’s lips but rather, you dollop it onto her breast, her nipple reacting to the cold mixture immediately.

Natasha wastes no time, leaning forward to greedily lap it up with her tongue. Wanda arches her back, pressing her chest closer to Natasha as she showers her breast with attention.

“Want some syrup too?” 

You don’t wait for a reply to your question, Wanda can feel the sticky liquid hit her shoulder before it runs down over her collarbone and through the valley between her breasts. Natasha cleans it up, her tongue following the path in reverse, making sure to nibble on Wanda’s collarbones along the way.

You drip the syrup on Wanda again, this time lower down her torso. Natasha follows the trail, her tongue dragging across Wanda’s skin as she leans back on her elbows to watch.

You drip the syrup onto the top of Wanda’s sex, the sticky liquid pooling at the apex of her thighs. Natasha doesn’t waver, making quick work of the clean-up. Your hand is running through Natasha’s hair, encouraging her exploration of Wanda’s body.

When the syrup is clean, Wanda expects Natasha to stand back up but instead, you push her head lower. Wanda sighs as Natasha’s tongue brushes her clit, her green eyes locking with Wanda’s as she lapped at her.

You move to stand behind Natasha and Wanda can see you gripping the base of your strap tightly.

“The louder you make her moan,” you inform Natasha, running the length of the strap along Natasha’s folds to get it nice and wet, “the harder I’ll fuck this pretty pussy of yours.”

Natasha doesn’t respond verbally but the way she pushes two fingers into Wanda’s entrance lets everyone know she heard you. 

Wanda moans at the feeling, her body falling back as her arms give out. She grips Natasha’s head in her hands, trying to pull the redhead closer to her. Natasha moans against Wanda, indicating that you had entered her as promised.

Natasha removes her fingers after a few thrusts, instead moving her mouth down to Wanda’s entrance. She can feel Natasha's tongue slip inside her, the rough muscle tracing her most intimate flesh and causing her to moan louder.

Wanda can feel the power of your thrusts, Natasha’s nose bumping against her clit with each press forward of your hips. The redhead is moaning almost as loud as Wanda, even with her voice muffled.

Her nails are digging into Wanda’s thighs and Wanda can tell Natasha is getting close by the almost painful grip she has. Without warning, Wanda topples over the edge, her legs trying to close around Natasha’s head as she continues to lick Wanda through her orgasm. 

It’s only a few seconds later that Wanda feels Natasha cry out against her, her tongue letting up for a few moments as she cries out in pleasure at her own release. Her head rests against Wanda’s thigh as she catches her breath, both women thoroughly dishevelled.

Wanda can hear the sound of you unbuckling the harness of the strap despite the blood rushing in her ears. She hears the sound of skin being slapped before Natasha jolts against her, a squeak of surprise escaping her.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you say, the commanding tone of your voice making Wanda clench around nothing.

Natasha leans forward again, attaching her mouth to Wanda’s clit once more. Her fingers join in as well, three of them entering her and setting a quick pace. Wanda tries to shake her head in protest, already feeling overstimulated from the three orgasms she’d had this morning.

“Aw, sweetie,” you coo in a patronising tone, fingers tracing Wanda’s cheek gently. “She stops when I tell her to.”

Wanda watches as you climb onto the counter, legs resting either side of her head. You hover above her, your glistening folds inches from Wanda’s face. You begin to lower yourself down, Wanda’s tongue dutifully sticking out to lap at you.

“And I won’t tell her to stop until that pretty mouth of yours has made me cum at least twice.”

I no longer do taglists but you can follow my library blog and turn on notifications to get alerts when I post a new story @puppiesbrainsandbabieshearts

[thelastdj]

Dinner With The Parents

Pairing: Brian May x reader

Genre: I have no clue. Just read.

Summary: (y/n) and Brian are having dinner with his parents, but they are badgering the couple with questions about the future. Specifically: children.

Warning: Smoking, maybe cursing. I didn't proofread. Also I wrote this in an hour so its not the best.

masterlist

“And look here,” the elderly woman shoved another picture in (y/n)’s face, “Brian’s cousin just had a little daughter.”

“Ah, congratulations.”

“Isn’t she sweet?”

“Very.” (y/n) shot him a desperate look.

“So, Dad,” Brian tried to change the topic, “How's work?”

“Work is good.” he replied curtly, “(y/n), do you know how great children are?”

“I- uh, I wouldn’t know” she said, and took a long drink of wine.

“Well, they are. You get to watch them grow up, growing to become such amazing people. And you have the satisfaction of knowing you helped shape them to be like that.”

(y/n) nodded and gave a polite smile. “The meal was delicious Mrs. May.”

“Thank you dear.” She smiled, “Oh, Brian, did you hear? Jeff Robinson had a son last week.”

“Who?”

“You remember Jeff. He was in your year in school.”

“Oh, Jeff. Right.”

“(y/n)?” His father asked.

“Yes?”

“You and Brian have been together for quite some time now.”

“Three years.” She replied, shooting him a quick smile.

“Have you two ever thought of starting a family? Or at least getting married?”

“Um, we're both too busy with work right now to think of children…” she trailed off.

“(y/n)? Are you alright dear? You look a little queasy.” his mother asked when her eyes fell on (y/n), who indeed looked like she was going to be sick.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” she said absentmindedly. “Do you mind if I grab some fresh air?”

“Of course darling.”

“Thanks.”

(y/n) got up and quietly headed out the side door. A beat passed and Brian turned to look at his parents.

His expression must have been pretty sour, because his mother raised her eyebrows and asked, “What?”

“Why are you trying to pressure (y/n) and me into having children?”

“We’re not doing anything of that sort.”

“Yes you are. (y/n)’s been under a lot of pressure about having kids lately. Her family, the media and now you two. It’s clear that she doesn’t want children. And neither do I.”

His parents were quiet.

“I’m going to go and see if she’s alright. And when we come back, please refrain from all the family talk.”

•••

(y/n) stood in the shadows, leaning her back against the wall. The warm red glow of a cigarette was the only thing lighting her face. Smoke curled upwards into the air as she exhaled.

“Sorry,” she chuckled, catching him staring at the cigarette between her fingers, “Bad habit.”

“Are you alright darling?”

She gave a weak smile, “I’m fine. Just needed to calm down a bit.”

Brian walked over to her, leaning his back against the wall. A sigh escaped him.

(y/n) glances over to him, “You want a drag?”

Suddenly Brian felt tempted. Why? He didn’t know, but he accepted the offer, inhaling the smoke from the cigarette being held to his lips.

His throat burned as the smoke tried to fight its way out and Brian doubled over coughing. He must have looked pretty ridiculous because (y/n) started to giggle.

“You do this for fun?” he managed to gasp out.

That only made her laugh harder. It took a few moments before all the smoke had been expelled from his lungs.

“Are you okay?” (y/n) asked when his coughing had subsided.

Brian nodded, watching her take a final drag before throwing the cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it with the tip of her shoe.

“I’m sorry they were asking all those questions.” He said.

“It’s not your fault,” (y/n) sighed, “Besides, you’ll have to endure the same thing next week. My mom invited us to dinner on Sunday.”

“Lovely,” he deadpanned and (y/n) smiled sympathetically.

“Should we go back inside?” She suggested, “Your parents might get suspicious.”

Brian nodded and took (y/n)’s hand.

“After you,” he held open to the door and he followed (y/n) as she walked back inside.

“Ah, there you too are.” Brian’s mom exclaimed, “Are you feeling better, (y/n)?”

“Yeah, I think it was just a little vertigo. I’m fine.”

“How’s the album coming along, son?” His father asked after a short pause.

And for the rest of the evening, there were no more mentions of children.

•••

“You told them I didn’t want children, didn’t you?”

Brian glanced down at her, “Yes, I did. They were a bit disappointed, but they’ll accept it. I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think that they believe that  if there’s a chance we’ll get married then there’s a chance that they will get grandchildren”

(y/n) laughed, “Do you think there’s a chance that we’ll get married?”

“I’m hoping there is.” He looked at her, “Is there?”

(y/n) smiled, “Yes there is. A very good one in fact.”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Okay but what about Orc!bucky and Goddess!reader ..😳🤭 Shes an Aphrodite, I can imagine her looking down and seeing orc!bucky and just craving him. They be a great power couple ...

Hi hun! I'm sorry it took me so much time to write this fic, and, well, since most of us already have some depiction of Aphrodite in mind, I decided to make the reader her daughter. Guess the story turned out something very different from what you wanted, but I still hope you will enjoy it!

Somebody to Die For

Pairing: orc!Bucky x goddess!Reader

Warnings: violence, injuries, angst, hurt/comfort.

Words: 2385.

____________________

"I will fight for you till they cut off my arms, my legs, and my head."

You looked at the warrior in front of you, his heavy body clad in armor, his arms holding a spear and a shield you brought to him yourself, earning a slap from your mother, the goddess of beauty who forbid you to help humans so shamelessly, and yet, you always did.

The man standing in front of you was neither orc nor human but the descendant of the both of them, the only hero who could possibly defeat the evil forces when every other man had failed. He's rough; he's rude; he knew little of honor, but he's the one who still fought when the ones before him had long given up. Despite the prejudice against orcs, now even humans understood he was their only salvation.

You hoped he would survive the last battle. Not just because you needed the human kind to have a savior, a leader, the one who would aid them when nobody else would, but because you had grown found of him, the man you had been guiding for years, helping him to protect those who detested him, bringing him hope when he was ready to give up, embracing him when he no longer had the power to hold his spear. A daughter of the goddess of beauty, you were to bring this beauty to the parts of the world where your tired mother could not, but you brought hope instead.

"Fight for me, and if you win, I will fulfill your wish, soldier." You whispered through your golden mask that covered your face entirely, only your eyes visible to the orc standing on his knees.

Your mother never approved of it, but you had seen people going mad from having just one glance at you, your immense beauty blinding them, driving them insane, making them forgot who they were. It was a curse, not a blessing. It was the reason you wore your mask at all times, only showing your face to those your deemed worthy, strong enough to withstand the charms you had no control over.

You knew your hero wanted to see your face more than anything else in the world.

"I will bring you the demon's head on a golden plate, my goddess."

You'd chuckle at his attempt to please you, but you were scared, you feared he would fail, fall, die in the hands of evil forces feasting upon human kind and threatening to destroy all the gods had created. You could not fight along him, possessing no skills to win that battle; moreover, your mother would most certainly kill you if you intervened, breaking the oath you had given to her. You could only help the hero you had chosen while staying in the shadow.

"Stay alive, Bucky." Those were your last words when you pressed the cold lips of your mask to the orc's forehead, giving him your blessing and hiding the tears behind the cold metal.

If only you could fight, but your hands grew cold every time you touched the hero's spear, unable to wield a sword or a mace. The war was not your domain, all the gods kept telling you when you plead them to gift you enough strength and courage to engage in battle. No, your fate was to shine like a golden statue, blinding all those who dared to look at you, bending them to your will like you mother had always done. They couldn't understand your ardent desire to watch over the humankind and all those who needed your help, spending your time healing soldiers, aiding orphans and the elderly, bringing food and water to all those in need. The gods cared little for mortals. Even when the Great Evil appeared out of nowhere, wreaking havoc on the lands belonging to people constantly praying for gods mercy, the immortals were too busy with their own affairs, realizing how serious the matter was when it had been too late.

When the orc you clad in charmed armor stood in front of the army of the undead, the diabolical creatures with horns and gaunt wings growling behind them, ready to strike, you prayed for him to come out of the battle alive. It was his fate to be the last hero standing between the chaos and all what was dear to the living, yet he bore no responsibility for it - he didn't ask to be the hero, to fight when his spear was long broken, go forward while the undead broke his bones and demons feasted upon his flesh, ripping pieces of meat before the orc could crush their heads with his mere hands. You kept casting spells to aid him, knowing your mother would whip you, but you didn't care, healing your hero's wounds so he could fight until he would cut off the head of the Demon King with his own sword.

Your hero was laying on top of demon's dead body, still holding the head even while unconscious as you sneaked into the field full of corpses, bodies of demons and bones of the undead rotting under the blazing sun. Your hero was dying from his wounds, bleeding so much his skin was loosing its color, and now it was your time to bring him back to the living before it was too late.

Oh, you knew your mother could kill you for stealing the salve meant only for gods to heal their wounds, but you no longer cared. What did it matter if the one who saved you all was to pay with his life for everything he had done to protect the living? No, it was unfair. The orc stood to gain nothing from his heroic deeds, gods being too arrogant to acknowledge him properly, but he had the right to keep his life.

And so you carried his heavy body to the springs, washing his wounds, applying the salve generously and casting as much healing spells as you did in your entire life to keep him alive, praying and hoping the gods would take mercy on him. Yes, he was three quarters an orc; he was barbaric, savage, ferocious, but he had kindness in his heart like no other, agreeing to fight for humans who had always utterly despised him. Despite being a brute, he was kind to children, women and elderly people. He had never lay his hand on those weaker than him, except when they attacked him on their own. In the end, he was the only hero who answered your call when all those you had asked for help died on the battlefield, unable to fight the demons and their army of corpses.

It had been three days and three nights you spent tending to his wounds until his heart started beating like of a living being. You cried your eyes out when you heard it. The salve had finally worked, and the open wounds closed, leaving his body scarred but healed; his breath steadied, and soon your hero would come back to you, you knew. Gods had answered your prayers for the first time.

"Am I dead?" Bucky asked you when he opened his eyes on the fourth day as he saw you tired face, your mask long abandoned the moment you brought him to the springs.

You smiled at him and held him close, his head laying on your lap while you witnessed his awakening, his body covered in salve, making his skin shine like pure gold.

"You are alive and well." leaning to him, you left a kiss on his forehead, brushing his dark disheveled hair out of his face, and the orc made an odd sound as if he were purring like a giant cat. "You will live a long life, cherished and honored by those you protected, I promise you."

"Will you keep that one promise you gave me, my goddess?"

He's impatient, he had always been, and you laughed at his eagerness, knowing his body still hurt, but the orc didn't seem to mind it. Was he unhappy with seeing your face? You didn't think so, and yet, apparently, he wanted something else. Gold? Women? Immortality? The last one would be quite hard, that is if gods wouldn't struck you with a lightning or something just to teach you a lesson to be more pliant and respectful.

"What it is that you want, my warrior? I will do whatever you ask me to if it is within my powers, just like I promised."

"It's within your powers, I'm sure." He grumbled, making you laugh even harder at his unusual grumpiness, touching the tips of his tusks, and the orc laughed at you, too.

"What is it, then? Don't keep me waiting, mortal, for even I grew tired of tending to you over four days." Winking at him in the most frivolous manner just like your mother had taught you, you giggled then, and the hero's face lightened up.

"This is not how I imagined it to be, but who cares, anyway." he muttered to himself and sat up, turning to you and hurriedly searching the pockets of his torn pants, obviously empty after his long, intense battle. "Shit! I've brought you golden rings and necklaces and bracelets, but those flying bitches made holes in my clothes. I should have hidden my gifts under some rock before the battle."

"Oh, you should have!"

He's impossible, you thought as you both snickered, his huge, calloused hands touching gentle yours. He brought you gold? What for?

"Well, whatever, I'll find more for you later if you don't mind, goddess. Will you give me the honor of becoming my wife even if I didn't bring you the gifts?" The orc tilted his head to the side, looking at you as if it were just a mere matter of something minor, unimportant, but soon, as he watched you openly gape at him for his audacity, he quickly bowed his head, kneeling in front of you.

You were speechless. For once, you had never for once suspected of the hero having these feelings for you. Surely, he prayed to you, he respected you as a mortal should respect their deity, he was intrigued by your true appearance you had concealed from him, but his spoke of marriage seemed preposterous. Was it your face again, your mother's charms? No, no, it couldn’t have been it for the hero intended to bring you gifts, wedding gifts, that is. He had come prepared.

Unbelievable. Did his feelings grow while he didn't even know how you looked?

"Forgive me my insolence, goddess." he mumbled, realizing his offer could be a grave offense to you, a being standing way higher than him. "But I can serve you till the end of my days, do whatever you tell me to. If I have survived the last battle and brought people salvation they wanted, I must be good enough, right?"

"Will you serve me even if I am not your wife?" You asked him quietly, looking at your hands covered in the balm you stole from the gods just to heal his wounds, knowing you were attracted to him despite your feelings never being voiced.

For a couple of seconds the orc grew silent, watching the carpet you put him on to tend to his wounds: it had been soaked in his blood that now dried out.

"I will serve you even then." He uttered grimly, refusing to look you in the eyes, his gaze on your hands as he kept sitting in front of you.

Afraid to speak, you fell silent too, wishing to touch him, brush your hand against his disheveled hair. Oh, didn't you want him? Didn't you wish to be embraced by the very hero you spent years guiding and healing so he would continue his journey? Didn't you deserve to be loved, the daughter of the goddess of that very same love you'd been craving for so long?

But your hero was a mortal. You were frightened to even think what gods would do to him for his impertinence.

Oh, evil gods. You spent years to teach and guide the mortal hero they despised who brought the salvation to the lands they were so afraid to lose, and yet neither him nor you were given anything in return. Instead, they were granting you a torture of refusing advances of the only one dear to you.

Please, darling.

Your mother's irritated voice cut through the silence like a knife, and you froze, knowing she was rolling her eyes at you, watching you secretly like she often did.

You have a heart of stone if you reject the man who is standing on his knees in front of you. I grant you my permission if you so need it.

As her mighty voice rang in the complete silence of a cave, Bucky shivered, immediately getting on his feet. Of course, he knew nothing of your mother except that she was a goddess, and he had never heard her voice. It didn't matter to you, though, as you stared at him, dumbfounded.

Permission. She granted you her permission to marry him. You were free to act as you like, knowing the gods wouldn't bring their wrath upon your hero.

"I will have you if you promise to love and cherish me like no other, protect me, and be loyal to me until your last breath." You whispered, your eyes full of tears as you watched him from below while he towered above you, and the next second he was on his knees again, taking your arms in his and kissing your tears away.

"Even if my face will be disfigured, my tongue cut off, and my body dismembered, I will love you till my last breath." his voice was so quiet, yet you heard him as if he were screaming at the top of his voice. "I promise to worship you and come to you aid whenever you need me."

Hurriedly ripping a piece of his ragged, soaked in blood clothes, he wrapped it around your finger like it was a ring he had lost.

"My soul, my heart, and my sword - everything I possess I give to you."

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @iheartsebandchris

[strangelysamantha]

elderly advice ❀

rafe cameron x plus!reader.

warnings: slight bullying for weight, harsh words, mention of a grandpa, use of word baby, swearing, physical and verbal fighting.

words: 1,964.

summary: when you work at a golf course as a cart girl, you are happy because that means you’ll be seeing rafe more often. but, there’s a downside when you realize that kelce and topper will see you more often as well, and with seeing them more often, you also get to hear their harsh words.

request? nope :)

a/n: i’m just overflowing with idea’s right now. :) i hope you all enjoy this story. it’s angsts at the beginning but it turns into fluff i promise! like and comment if you enjoy this story so i know what you guys want me to write more of. ily thanks! <3

my masterlist

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“you’re a fat ass who shouldn’t be working here. point blank, there’s nothing else to be said.” kelce stared at you in disgust, his eyes dragging up and down your body. topper laughs in agreement, “damn straight. we are trying to golf, not be distracted by a beluga whale who doesn’t belong here.” you quickly hand them their drinks. you ignore their remarks, just trying to finish your shift. tears slowly fall from your eyes but you wipe them as soon as they touch your nose. “can i get you anything else?” you ask, slightly urgent to ensure you leave before your boyfriend comes back.

rafe and you had been dating. not in secret, everyone knew you two were dating. which included kelce and topper. despite them knowing that, they didn’t stop being rude to you every chance they got. they believed you weren’t worthy for rafe, and that he could do much better than you. “yeah, actually. can you give us some space? damn, you are fucking all over us.” you shake your head, speed walking away. you take a deep breath, trying to slow your breathing so you could stay calm. after a few minutes of air, you got back to work. out of the corner of your eye, you see rafe had joined his friends. you avoided going over there, especially since you had just served them.

you walk over to an older man, he smiles lightly at you. “thank you.” he replies softly, taking the drink you were handing him. “why do you let them talk to you like that?” he asks, clearly indicating he had seen the whole event that just happened. “i don’t- i don’t know what i can say. if i say what’s truly on my mind, i’m afraid i’ll lose my job.” your lips curl into a small smile. you acknowledge him nodding his head before you walk off to the next table.

when you turned around, the old man you once saw had got up and moved. you search around to ensure he wasn’t complaining about your service and that’s when you finally spot him at rafe’s table. your breath gets caught in your throat. you profusely apologize to the table you were currently serving, before you start to walk in the old man's direction.

the old man looked familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. once you get closer to the table, you can hear their conversation. you arrive at the table, swiftly shielding your body with the circular drink holder that was once placed on your flat palm.

“is there a problem?” topper asks, smiling. the old man chuckles, “do you believe there should be a problem?” he asks. your heart beats faster as you fear what the man's next words might be. obviously you don’t want topper and kelce to treat you with hostility, but you didn’t want to go against them in fear that rafe would choose their side. “no sir, no problem here. you are the one who came up to our table.” kelce exclaims before putting on a fake smile when glancing at you.

your eyes are wide, and you calmly tap the old man's shoulder. “i’m sorry sir, is everything okay? is there something you need in particular? i would happily assist you and grab you anything you need.” he glances down at you, now noticing that rafe had placed his arm around your waist. he clearly notices rafe's gesture and laughs lightly. “girl, you deserve so much better.” you nod slightly, but he continues. “i’m assuming that this is your boyfriend?” he asks. rafe smiles, “yes, i’m the boyfriend.” you couldn’t understand the tone in his voice. whether it was protectiveness, jealousy, or just plain amusement, there was definitely something off.

“well, isn’t this a funny picture?” you frown at his words. your eyes plead to him to drop it and move on but he shakes his head, not budging. “that boyfriend of yours sweetie,” his eyes are trained on you. “does he know that his friends harass you every chance they get?” rafe's’ smile has fallen from his face, anger now bubbling up. “what are you talking about?” his eyes narrow, waiting for his response. “i hate to break it to you, but those friends of yours mistreat your girlfriend daily. i’ve see it everyday, she’s just walking around doing her job, and your hooligan friends fat shame and cuss her out. but obviously as her boyfriend you knew that right?” he questions, rafe's grasp on your waist tightens when you begin to walk away. his hands prevent you from walking off.

“not so fast.” rafe says, now standing. “who is this guy?” you hesitate, but he answers for you. “this guy is her great grandpa who has just flown to town a week or so ago.” your face drops as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. your great grandpa. you hadn’t ever met your family, unless they lived in the house with you. you had only met him once for a family reunion when you were seven.

“oh. sir- i’m sorry i didn’t mean to…” grandpa cuts him off immediately, “i shouldn’t be the one you are apologizing too.” he nods, but before rafe can register it you had already ran to the employee only break room. you slide down the wall, your arms wrapping around your legs as you begin to weep. it’s hard to breathe as you realize that rafe now knows. the next interaction with rafe is detrimental as it will showcase if he truly loves you, or if he would rather choose his friends. 

“sir! you can’t be back here! i won’t hesitate to call security!” your fellow employee called out. you had a huge inkling that they were talking to rafe. “call the security, i don’t give a shit. i need to go back there, my girl is back there and i know she’s not doing okay.” rafe pushes past them and sees you crying on the floor. his heart burns in his chest as he sees the distraught state you were in. “baby…?” he questions.

“yes, rafe?” you respond, your head still hiding in your palms. “baby look at me, please.” you hesitated, but inevitably lifted your face up. he rushed over, sitting in front of you, “what do they say?” he immediately asks, while he wipes away your stray tears. you frown recalling the numerous events where his friends would bully you, “which time?” you ask. his heart drops at your words. he hated to admit it, but he was oblivious to what they were doing to you.

“please. you have to tell me what they were saying to my baby.” he frowns, his voice being lighter than you’ve ever seen it. “rafe-,” you try to tell him to drop it, but he shuts you up immediately. “what the fuck do they say to you? i’m not playing any games.” you breathe out, “they just say i don’t deserve you, and that you could do better, and that they think i’m a fat waste of space.” his grip on your hand tightened. “what the fuck...” is all he said before he stood up and stormed out of the room.

you quickly wipe your tears away, before following after him. by the time you catch up, he’s already yelling at both topper and kelce. “why the fuck have you been saying that shit? it’s not your fucking place to say shit like that about my girl!” rafe’s hand were grasping at toppers t-shirt. your hand covers your own mouth as the event in front of you unravels. “trust me rafe, we’re doing you a favor.” rafe scoffs, pushing topper, as he stumbled back. “fuck you mean man? i don’t need any favors from you.” rafe’s yelling caused a commotion as half the guests were now staring.

you frown, not knowing what to do. “alright. so what? we make a few jokes. it’s not our fault she’s so sensitive and takes everything to heart.” kelce laughs, and so does topper. “for real, she’s being extra like always. what’s fucking new.” topper exclaims, he now has regained his balance, rafe stands straighter. “you guys are assholes, you know that right? i mean what? you thought i’d never find out?” topper laughs, “well obviously, we knew she’d never tell you. i mean, we’ve been messing with her for fucking months man.” rafe’s anger grows stronger, he knew it had been going on for a while, maybe a week or two. but months??

rafe looks back at you, his eyes softening. you’d been dealing with his friends, taking every low blow and jab just so you could be with him. rafe’s attention returned to kelce and topper. “we will talk about this later. fuck both of you. that’s fucked up, regardless if she was my girl or not. such fucking dicks.” rafe pushed them both one last time before hurrying to your side.

his arms immediately find a placement against your hips. you avoided eye contact. “come on baby, let’s go.” he grabbed your hand and walked you to his car. luckily your shift had ended so you wouldn’t get in trouble with work. once inside his car, he starts it. before he pulls out of the parking lot, he’s staring at you, a question lingering in his mind.

“baby?” he quietly asks, his entire demeanor changing from just a few minutes ago, his hand reached for your thigh. “yes?” you reply, finally gaining enough courage to maintain eye contact with him. “why…” he hesitated but decided to ask anyway. “why didn’t you tell me that they were doing that? if i had any idea they were doing that… i mean, they wouldn’t even hear the end of it.” you frown. “do you want the truth?” you wait for his response. “yes.” you nod, “well. i was scared that you would pick them over me.” he was speechless. his jaw clenched as his grip on your thigh tightened.

“baby. i would never condone what they were doing. they are fucking assholes. they were undoubtedly trying to ruin the best thing i have. i would never choose them over you. i don’t- why would you even believe that?!” his eyes were soft, pleading for any excuse you could muster up. “i’m sorry, i was just scared.” he nodded, he finally drove you to your house.

once inside your house, you two were sitting on your bed in comfortable silence. you were sitting down playing on your phone, as his head was laid against your thighs. “you know i love you, right?” he asks. you nod, your hand massaging in his hair. “i know rafe. and you know i love you too.” he nodded, one hand gripping your thigh, as the other drew shapes against your skin.

“i’m really sorry they treated you that way. if i had any idea-.” you cut him off immediately. “rafe you couldn’t have known. it’s okay i promise. please, it’s okay.” he shakes his head. “it’s not okay. they are supposed to be my friends but now i come to find out they tried to actively run you away. it makes me fucking mad.” you nod. “well i’m still here. and i don’t plan on running away.” he nodded, sighing. “thank you.” you lean down and press a kiss on his hair. “of course.”

silence surrounded you again. “can i still beat the shit out of them?” he asks. you gasp. “rafe! no!! they aren’t worth it.” he slightly laughs. “fine. only because you said no.” he snuggles his face deeper into your thighs, playing with the fabric of your shorts. “i’m happy here.” you shake your head, setting your phone down. “only because you are between my thighs.” you feel him smile. “exactly.”

[helloalycia]

my patient’s neighbour [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: whilst caring for a new patient of yours, you definitely didn't expect to fall for her cute neighbour, Wanda Maximoff

warning/s: very minor mentions of injuries and death

author's note: okay so firstly, buckle in, folks, this is gonna be like 6 parts long lol. Also, I google translated all the Russian bits so i apologise if they are incorrect! okay, you may enjoy now :)

part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | masterlist | wattpad

"38... 38... 38..."

I scanned the doors to the many apartments in the hall, hoping to find the one that belonged to my newest patient – Anna Pivec. As a nurse, I was always given new patients to visit and tend to until they no longer needed it or chose not to have me around. I'd just been assigned a new patient, Anna, and was excited to meet her.

"38!" I said to myself, spotting the door at the end of the hallway. I knocked on before waiting patiently, hoping she wasn't sleeping or anything. It wasn't too early – 10AM – and she knew I was coming, so finger's crossed.

The door opened to reveal a short, old lady with grey hair and a cane in her hand. I smiled kindly, meeting her cloudy gaze.

"You must be the one my granddaughter is paying to look after me because she can't do it herself," the woman spoke before I could introduce myself. Stepping to the side, she motioned with her cane. "Come on in."

My smile dropped at her abruptness. "I, er, yeah, I guess that's me." As I walked in, I said, "My name is Y/N Y/L/N. The nurse from–"

"Yeah, I know where you're from," she cut me off, closing the door and heading further into her apartment. "They sent me a brochure, milaya."

I followed after her, surprised at how quick she was for an old lady with back and heart problems. She was leading me into the open plan living-room and kitchen.

"I'm sorry – milaya? What does that mean?" I asked politely, hoping I didn't come across as rude.

She waved her hand dismissively, mumbling something to herself in what I think was Russian. Her profile did say she was from Sokovia, so maybe that was it.

"Okay, erm, well, as I said," I changed the subject, figuring she wouldn't give me an answer, "I'm Y/N. I'll be here five times a week and basically be doing anything you need me to do. Of course, I only want you to be comfortable in your own home, so if you ever feel anything but, please let me know."

She hummed in acknowledgement before motioning for me to follow her. I set my bag on the kitchen counter before sitting on the couch as she did so on the recliner. She sighed with content as the pain on her back was eased from taking a seat.

"Tell me about yourself," she said gently.

I smiled with amusement. "That's usually what I ask my patients."

"Do forgive me, milaya," she said, and I made a mental note to bring a Russian-English dictionary with me tomorrow, "but you're a stranger in my home. I'd prefer to know about you before I let you take care of me."

I nodded, slightly impressed. Her profile didn't do her justice. Usually, the elderly I cared for were quick to allow me to do my thing, never really questioning who I was or what my intentions were. I was starting to get the impression that Anna was a strong, stubborn woman in a little old lady's body – definitely not one to mess around with.

"Okay, well, I'm a nurse," I began with the basics, and from there, went into a long ramble about my job, how I got into it, what it consisted of...

Anna was full of questions, taking the time to get to know me and I her. Once I had told her everything I could think to, she told me about her life. How she lived in Sokovia up until she was thirty-five years old and had to flee with her husband and daughter because of the war. She gushed about the both of them, a twinkle in her eye as she recalled their livelihoods like they were still alive. Her husband had unfortunately passed many years ago due to liver problems – "All that drinking, milaya! Us Sokovians are a force to be reckoned with!" – and her daughter had passed in a car accident not long after.

It was a tragic tale, but she didn't let it bring her down. In fact, she seemed grateful to have lived it and I couldn't help but smile as she shared it with me.

I noticed she would speak short phrases in Russian mid-conversation, without realising, which didn't make it easier for me to understand, but I couldn't bring it in myself to interrupt her to ask what they meant because she said it with such sincerity that I figured it reminded her of her home.

After our conversation, I made her lunch and gave her her medication before watching some TV with her and pretty much talking to her once again. She was quite an interesting woman, different to my usual patients, and I was enjoying our time together. After spending the day there, I wished her a good night before leaving.

When I returned the next morning, I let myself in with the key Anna gave me and called out a good morning.

"In here!" an unfamiliar female voice called out.

I furrowed my brows as I took off my jacket and headed into the living-area. Anna was sat in her recliner as usual, but she had a guest sat on her couch. A young woman, possibly my age, with long dark hair and a friendly smile on her lips was sat comfortably; she had a cup of tea in her hands and her legs pulled up on the couch like she lived there.

The stranger and Anna exchanged words in Russian briefly before the former stood up, about to introduce herself.

"Oh, are you her granddaughter?" I asked, putting two and two together. It was the only explanation I could think of for how comfortable she was and the fact that she was also Sokovian (I assumed, anyway).

The girl laughed, her green eyes sparkling as she shook her head. Putting out her hand, she said, "I'm Wanda Maximoff. Anna's neighbour."

Slightly embarrassed by my mistake, I smiled awkwardly and shook her hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– I just thought because you were speaking Russian that–"

"It's fine, no harm no foul," she put me at ease quickly, before taking her seat again. "I've lived next door to Anna for about a year now. Sometimes I keep her company on my days off."

I set my bag on the floor before taking a seat on the couch, leaving a gap between Wanda and I.

"That's nice," I said with a smile before looking to Anna. "How are you feeling this morning, Mrs Pivec?"

She sighed, waving her hand dismissively, before saying something to Wanda in Russian who was listening intently. Nodding her head, Wanda looked to me with amusement.

"What did she say?" I asked, quirking a brow.

"She said she told you to stop calling her Mrs Pivec yesterday," Wanda translated, trying not to laugh.

"Just call me Anna, Y/N," Anna added with a nod. "And I'm fine. Just had breakfast with Wanda here."

"Breakfast," I repeated slowly. "How long ago was that? Just gotta make sure you get your meds."

"Shoot, am I doing your job?" Wanda asked, slightly panicked.

"No, no, you're not." I laughed at the way she scrunched her nose. "I mean, it would help if I could have breakfast with Miss– Anna, so I know when she has her medication. But it's all good."

"Are you sure? I can leave if I'm in the way," Wanda said with a frown.

"No need," I reassured her. "If Anna doesn't mind your presence, it's all good. I'm just here to look after her, clean up, make sure she eats, has her meds."

Wanda looked to Anna, who seemed unbothered by her presence.

"She can stay," Anna said with a shrug. "Makes it feel less like I'm a pet."

I opened my mouth to say something, possibly make her feel better, but I wasn't sure what to say.

"Don't mind her," Wanda reassured, giving Anna a knowing look before shooting me an easygoing smile. "She tends to speak her mind exactly as it is. No filter whatsoever. And very stubborn. You may have noticed."

I cracked a smile, feeling better knowing that it wasn't just me who noticed Anna's unique personality traits.

"Hey, that stubbornness and lack of filter is exactly how I beat my husband and his friends in every poker game back home," Anna said with a playful smirk.

Wanda and I chuckled, before the brunette leaned on the couch comfortably and looked to me.

"We finished breakfast, maybe, ten minutes ago? I made us eggs and toast," she answered my question from earlier.

I hummed before getting up with my bag and heading to the kitchen. Setting my bag on the counter, I grabbed my diary and also Anna's medication from its place on the kitchen counter.

"I'll give you your medicine now, Anna," I told her, already grabbing a glass of water for her.

"Thank you, milaya," she called back, and I spun around, immediately going to get my Russian-English dictionary from my bag. "Wait, I know what that is!" I flicked through the pages and scanned it eagerly. "Milaya... milaya... milaya! Okay, it means... sweetie."

"Sweetie," Wanda said at the same time, and I looked up to see her watching me from behind her cup of tea, trying not to laugh again.

"I guess another perk of your presence is being the translator," I said sheepishly, realising just how eager I was a second ago. "Anna likes to speak Russian a lot, which I'm fine with of course, but..." I waved the dictionary in the air.

"It's funny watching tvoye lichiko, milaya," Anna said with that same mischievous smirk on her face.

I looked down to my dictionary, struggling to pinpoint a single word in her sentence that I could search. It was overwhelming, the words going in one ear and out the other.

"She said it's funny watching your little face, sweetie," Wanda translated upon seeing my frozen state.

I relaxed my shoulders. "Thanks." Then I realised what she said. "Hey!"

Anna laughed as Wanda grinned, and I was suddenly glad she was here. I grabbed Anna's meds with a glass of water before giving them to her. After making sure she swallowed them properly, I put the glass to the side and took a seat on the couch again.

"So, you said you visited Anna on your days off?" I asked Wanda, intrigued by why a neighbour would be so interested in another. It wasn't very common in today's day and age.

"She's almost always here," Anna answered before Wanda could speak. I looked to her as she continued with a grateful smile. "Helps me with everything. Groceries, cleaning, my medication."

"So basically me but unpaid," I joked, and Anna laughed.

"Exactly," she agreed, and I looked to Wanda to see her blushing, eyes avoiding mine.

"That's really sweet," I said gently, earning her attention. "You're a really good neighbour, Wanda."

Wanda ran a hand through her hair. "It's nothing. If anything, I enjoy being here. Anna reminds me of Sokovia and my family and, well, home."

"Oh, so you're Sokovian, too?"

She nodded before smiling playfully. "Did the accent not give it away?"

I hid a smile. "I didn't want to assume. I mean, you could've been Czech. Slovakian. Basically anything else."

"Okay, I'll give you that," she gave in, tilting her head to the side, smile widening.

It was then that I learnt her smile was extremely contagious.

Same as yesterday, my plan was to stay the day with Anna, though this time Wanda also kept her company (and me, too). After lunch, I left the two of them to watch some TV as I excused myself to change Anna's bedsheets in her room, ready for bed tonight.

As I was doing so, I heard the door open and glanced over my shoulder to see Wanda entering the room. I gave her a smile before continuing to replace the pillowcase.

"Here, I can help," she offered, and didn't give me chance to decline as she grabbed the pillow on the other side of the bed and began to change its case.

"You sure? You know it's my job, right?" I teased, looking up at her over the bed between us.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm aware. Just thought I'd make it a bit easier for you."

I chuckled. "Well, I appreciate it... how is Anna?"

"Dozed off," Wanda quipped with an expectant nod. "Same time every day. Like clockwork."

"Huh." I thought back to yesterday and how she ended up taking a nap after lunch, too. "Noted. Thanks."

Wanda smiled before putting the pillowcase on the pillow and puffing it with her hands. I did the same, content with its appearance, before moving to the duvet. Wordlessly, Wanda grabbed one end and began to help me put it on, which I appreciated. The duvet was bigger than I was and definitely a two-person job.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I spoke out of the blue as we were putting on the duvet cover.

"Go for it," she said encouragingly, glancing sideways.

"Of course, you don't have to answer, but I thought I'd ask since I'm going to be looking after Anna for a while," I gave a little disclaimer, before saying, "She makes a lot of snide remarks about her granddaughter. Do they not get along?"

Wanda sighed quietly. "Her granddaughter doesn't really visit her here. She rarely calls."

"Her daughter's kid?"

"The only one," Wanda confirmed. "She keeps her distance, ever since her mum – Anna's daughter – passed. She just pays for, well, you."

I frowned. "That's sad."

"Yeah," Wanda agreed, breathing out.

The two of us spread the duvet over the double bed before I looked to her with a small smile.

"At least she has you," I pointed out. "It's nice you give up your free time to spend it with her."

"Like I said, it's good for me, too," she reminded me, returning the smile.

"So what do you do when you're not here keeping her company?" I asked curiously, moving to Anna's bedside to clear it up a little.

Wanda hid her smile behind a look of confusion. "Do you not– don't you recognise me?"

I quirked a brow, pausing my actions. "Am I supposed to?"

She snickered, shaking her head, eyes falling to the bed with mild disbelief. "I mean, I guess not. I'm–" She chuckled, looking to my confused face. "I'm one of the Avengers."

I studied her, her words not quite settling in. But when they did, I realised I actually recognised her and she was one of the Avengers.

"Oh my God!" I blurted, the penny finally dropping. "The one with the weird red energy powers! I mean– not weird but– the magic!"

She stifled laughter, nodding her head. Just like her smile, her laughter was contagious, too.

"Yeah, that's me," she confirmed.

I made a weird motion with my free hand, like I'd seen her do on TV when saving the day. "Does Anna know about your y'know?"

Wanda crossed her arms, raising a brow and watching me with a humoured gaze. "Is that supposed to be my powers?"

I stopped making the motion and felt my neck heating up. "I– yeah."

Laughter spilled from her lips yet again, automatically making me smile. I didn't mind that I'd made a fool of myself all of a sudden.

"Anna knows, yes," Wanda said with a bright smile. "She actually recognised me straight away. Much quicker than you. And she's eighty."

Waving my hand to distract from my flushed cheeks, I said, "Pfft, she probably confused you with someone else and played along when you told her who you were."

"Yeah, I'm sure that was it, ty milyy maneken," she retorted with her piercing gaze.

"No fair, my dictionary is in the other room," I said with a pout, and she only laughed even more.

"Guess you'll never know," she teased with a smirk, making me roll my eyes to distract from the way it made me feel when she stared at me like that.

It was much later on when I learnt that she had called me 'a cute dummy'. And that was the beautiful start to Wanda and I's introduction into each other's lives.

—

From then onwards, about eighty percent of the time I would go to care for Anna, Wanda was present, too and I didn't mind one bit. Not only did she keep Anna company, but she made my job a lot easier whilst keeping me company as well.

I was beginning to look forward to seeing her whenever I would open the door. Whether she was cleaning something up, playing board games with Anna or simply having a tidy up around the apartment, she'd always stop what she was doing and help me with whatever was in my hands as she greeted me at the door. It was adorable. She was adorable.

The few times she wasn't present because of work only made me miss her, the apartment feeling emptier than usual. Even Anna agreed, the two of us making up for the lack of the Sokovian girl's presence by distracting ourselves with other activities.

I was convinced Anna was warming up to me as she freely let me care for her without resistance. Obviously, she wouldn't be Anna if she didn't throw funny remarks my way or speak to me in Russian, knowing I didn't understand her, but it was tolerable. And I was liking her, too; she was easily becoming one of the best patients I cared for. There was just so much personality to her that I couldn't help but smile whenever I spoke to her.

One time, I was helping Anna out at her place when Wanda wasn't present. I was leading her into her bed when I decided now was a better time than ever to ask her about her birthday on Sunday, which I knew was then because of her file.

"So, I'll be seeing you in two days next," I told her as I pulled the duvet over her. "And a little birdie told me it's your birthday then. Eighty-one, Anna! That's amazing!"

She smiled but seemed embarrassed that I knew.

"Tell me what you want and I can make it happen," I said promisingly, smiling down at her.

She waved her hand. "I don't want anything, milaya (sweetie). Your presence is enough."

I chuckled. "As sweet as that is, I know everybody wants something for their birthday. Now please, Anna. What can I do to make the day a bit more special?"

She pondered my question momentarily and I waited for her to speak, hoping it was something doable.

"I would love to have a traditional Sokovian meal," she said reluctantly. "It's been a long time."

I breathed out quietly, patting her hand gently. "I can do that, Anna. Don't you worry."

She smiled genuinely, before shooing me away. "Okay, enough sappiness, ty mozhesh' uyti seychas (you can leave now)."

I laughed, standing up and dusting my pants off. I only knew what that phrase meant because she said it almost every time before my shift ended and I left for the day. I knew she didn't mean it as harshly as it sounded.

"I'm going, I'm going," I said, already heading to the door. "I'll see you Sunday, birthday girl."

She groaned quietly, making me grin, before I double checked everything was okay in the living-area and grabbed my stuff to leave.

As easy of a request that it was, I knew absolutely nothing about cooking a traditional Sokovian meal. But I knew of one person who did and instantly headed to Wanda's apartment next door to see if she was home.

With a quick knock, I waited patiently. I wasn't sure if she was even home since she hadn't visited Anna today and she usually did so if she was. When I was beginning to think she wasn't, I told myself I could Google a recipe and put something together, but then the door opened and revealed a tired-looking Wanda.

"Y/N," she said with surprise, but a friendly smile was on her lips nonetheless.

"Hey, I'm so sorry to disturb you this late, but I wanted to ask– wait, what happened to your face?" I stopped speaking and lost my own smile when I noticed the faint scratches and bruises dusting her skin.

"Oh, it's nothing–" she started, raising her hand, fingers wavering over her head, but I cut her off.

"Shit, Wanda, what happened?" I reached out, taking her hand in mine and studying the cast that was around her wrist. Concerned frown on my lips, I glanced up at her. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine, Y/N," she tried to reassure, but I couldn't help it as my worry got the better of me and I studied the cuts on her cheek. "I just came back from a mission. Minor injuries. Honestly."

I let go of her hand, realising I was still holding it, and nodded slightly. "Right..." Realising she must have been exhausted, I awkwardly stepped back and shook my head with realisation. "Sorry, I should go. I didn't mean to bot–"

"You were saying something," she interrupted, nodding encouragingly. "You wanted to ask me something. What is it?"

I paused, nodding. Admittedly, I was still worried about the bruises on her forehead. I knew she was an Avenger and this was probably the norm for her, but to me, it looked like she'd just got mugged. And the irregularity of that worried me.

"Yeah, I was saying," I finally found my words, trying to ignore the way her tired eyes peered at me hopefully. "It's Anna's birthday on Sunday and she wants to have a traditional Sokovian meal to celebrate. The only problem is, I don't know what that is." Wanda cracked a smile as I continued. "Do you, maybe, have a recipe I could use?"

"Of course," she said before motioning for me to follow her. "Come on in."

I followed after her, closing the door behind me, and stopped at the kitchen counter patiently. As she searched for a notebook in her drawer, I subtly glanced around, taking in the inside of Wanda's apartment. I'd never actually been in it before, but the minimal décor was very her. She didn't have many knickknacks and everything on display served a purpose.

"There's some recipes in here," she said, grabbing my attention. She slid the notebook across the counter and leaned forward with a smile. "Take your pick."

I flicked through it briefly, smiling at the notebook filled with recipes, all in Wanda's neat, cursive handwriting.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, looking up and catching her staring.

She perked up, clearing her throat as she nodded in response before looking the other way. Cute.

"Are you working on Sunday?" I asked with a raised brow, before rolling my eyes playfully. "What am I saying? Of course you're not. Not with that wrist."

She chuckled, still avoiding my eyes. "I'm not."

"Well, why don't you come over for her birthday? You can help me cook her a meal. Or rather, I can help you cook it since I'll probably screw it up."

Finally meeting my eyes, she smiled with amusement. "Are you sure?"

I gave her a knowing look, ignoring the butterflies swirling in my stomach as she held my gaze with her intense dark eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Anna will love to celebrate with you. And..." I pursed my lips, taking a leap of faith and adding, "and I'd love it, too."

Wanda let out a quiet laugh. "You would, would you?"

I straightened up, smile widening. "Yeah, I would."

She tilted her head, studying me with a curious smile. "Well then, I clearly can't say no."

Something stirred in my chest the longer she watched me and I oddly liked it. It was obvious that Wanda was a beautiful girl with a heart of gold, but I guess I hadn't really acknowledged that I may have had feelings for her until now. And I didn't mind one bit.

"Great," I finally found my words, nodding slightly. "I'll see you Sunday."

She mirrored my expression, saying, "See you Sunday," and I knew I couldn't wait until then.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Assumptions

10/01/2021

Pairing: Manuel Neuer x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 6,018

Warnings: rpf, mentions of age gap (not between reader and Manu and nothing illegal) and strong opinions on that, banter, jealousy, infuriation, fluff and cuteness

Summary: The reader finally catches her long time crush Manuel Neuer alone on her uncle's birthday. Things are quickly starting to get heated—sadly it's not the kind of heated she would have liked it to be.

A/N: Most of you probably don't know Manuel Neuer. He is the goalkeeper and captain of Bayern Munich as well as the German National Football Team and every once in a while I find my thoughts drifting towards that adorable and amazingly talented manchild. This story has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I wasn't sure whether I felt comfortable with publishing it in case it ever got finished. But I found that there is an intolerable lack of Manuel Neuer x reader fics on here, so here it is. I tagged everyone from my general tag list, but I understand if this is not what you signed up for. So sorry in advance and please feel free to ignore this story at your leisure.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

It was only a few minutes to midnight and still the dance floor was as filled as ever, an enchanting mixture of young and old people alike. The bass rolled deep in his stomach, making him even queasier than he already was, and the lights, flickering across the mass of moving bodies in sync to the rhythm of the music, didn’t help either.

Suddenly a figure broke through the outer wall of bodies and made her way over to his table. A small smile crawled over her lips, a little shy but genuine, yet he didn’t feel like returning it. He had hoped that she would change her mind upon the disgruntled look on his face, but much to his dismay, she did nothing of the sort and sat down right next to him, just as a waitress passed the table with a tray of colourful shots. The woman next to him stopped her, before she turned to him.

“Care for a drink?”

Did he care for a drink? He yearned for one.

“No, thanks. I’m not really fond of drinking.”

“Shame,” she shrugged, her smile growing a bit wider when she took two shots from the tray anyway. For a second he thought she might actually force him to drink with her, but then she placed down the two glasses in front of herself. Raising her first glass to him, she gulped it down in one swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand afterwards.

“Do you care for a dance then?” She nodded over to the dance floor, her eyes and body inviting him to take the offer.

He found that he somehow couldn’t hold her gaze when he answered, “I’m afraid I’m also not very fond of dancing.”

Her forearms resting on the table, she leaned closer, obviously not taking the hint that he just wanted to be left in peace and quiet.

“Then what are you fond of?”

“I think you know pretty well what I’m fond of.” To his own surprise he sounded even harsher than he had attempted to, but the last thing he needed right now was an eager fan trying to engage him in a conversation.

“I do,” she retorted undeterred, “but that’s not what I wanted to know. See, you might not have noticed through all your sulking, but I was actually interested in you as a person, not as a footballer.”

He huffed, although he wasn’t sure she had heard him above the music.

“And you might have noticed that I am not interested in talking about private stuff to complete strangers.”

Sure, he was being massively impolite, but at least he hoped that this would do the trick now. But instead of finally leaving him alone, she shot him an amused look.

“Ooooh, grumpy, aren’t we?”

Now it was him who leaned in closer, making sure she could hear him properly. “Look, it’s nothing personal, okay? I just...it wasn’t such a great evening for me.”

Unintentionally his eyes wandered over to the dance floor for a split second, where a very young, very blonde girl was dancing happily among his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. Cursing himself, he looked over to the woman by his side carefully, hoping she hadn’t noticed. But of course she had, her eyes still fixed on the girl.

“Ah, I see.” She turned to him and the glint in her eyes made his stomach turn. ���Puberty is a bitch, eh?”

“Excuse me?” he spat, equal parts bewildered and stunned.

“You heard me alright.”

Who did she think she was? Impertinent woman.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” The volume of his voice must have slipped his control a little, as he noticed a group of elderly men standing nearby turn into his direction. Still the woman’s smile never left her face, appeasing the men who turned away again.

“Really? After all I have to sit here with a pissed thirty something man who refuses to acknowledge he let his hormones get the best of him.”

“Whoa! Okay, first of all, it was you who decided to come and sit at this table and second, again, none of your goddamn business.”

Her answer was a simple grin, still not fazed by his anger in the slightest. It almost felt as if she was enjoying to get him riled up.

“You’re right.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

He rolled his eyes heavily. Why couldn’t she just leave?

“You know, that phrase usually goes with an apology. Like ‘You’re right. Sorry I assumed you’re having a mid-life crisis and bang a chick that is 15 years your junior to boost your fragile ego.’”

“Do you?”

Inhaling deeply, he tried to calm himself a little. After all, he couldn’t afford to yell at her again, not that he didn’t want to, but causing even more unwanted attention was not in his plans for tonight.

“I didn't say that.”

“Well actually,” she looked at him triumphantly, “you kind of did. I never said you were having a midlife crisis or that you need her to boost your ego. Those were your words. And seeing that my assumptions caused a reaction like that, I’m afraid I can’t really say I’m sorry either.”

All right, that was it. Enough was enough.

“Look, I think I have an assumption for you too, lady. I’m starting to assume that you only came over here to rile me up further. And guess what, mission completed. So why don’t you do us both a favour and head off to pester someone else now?”

She was quiet for a moment and for the first time, the cheeky smile left her beautiful, burgundy lips. He had expected her to be a bit shaken at least, maybe even as pissed as himself, and yet the next words were spoken with such dignity that he couldn’t help but admire her a little for it.

“Oh, I would love to say you’re right again, but I’m afraid I can’t this time. And since we seem to have warmed up to each other quite a bit by now, I feel it’s okay to be completely honest with you.” She paused a second, simply for the effect, he guessed and her warm eyes never left his. “I came to sit with you because you looked miserable. Still do, by the way. And I thought you might need an actual grown up to talk to. But it seems I was wrong. You’re just a pouty manchild, like the rest of them.”

She waved her arm, pointing over at the dancing crowd of his friends and their spouses. His eyes followed her gesture and when he laid eyes on the heart of the matter, a hot flush of rage began to swirl through his veins, making his hands clench into fists. Fully set on giving her a piece of his mind, not caring who might hear him at this point, he turned to her again. But the familiar figure that had somehow entered the picture without his notice made him stop in his tracks.

“Here you are, sweetie.” The man cooed, laying his large hand on her shoulder in a protective gesture. “I almost got the feeling you were hiding from me since I made you promise to dance with me tonight.”

She twisted her slender neck to look up at his gentle face, her attention making him smile sweetly at her.

“You know I’d never do that to you, Uncle Hans, especially not on your birthday. I just thought your no. 1 goalkeeper here was in need of some mature company, but clearly he is perfectly happy with the way things are.”

Bewilderment flickered behind the coach’s gaze as he looked between his niece and one of his best players and Manuel was sure that this might not be the last time they would speak about this matter.

“So then, may I have that dance now, sweetheart?”

“With pleasure.” Manuel watched almost transfixed as she gracefully took her uncle’s hand and stood up. It was only now that he noticed how perfectly her dress showed off her voluptuous curves. He was almost certain that she would leave without another word when once again she proved him wrong. Turning on her heels, she grabbed the remaining shot and gulped it down in one large swig before she looked down at him, almost as regal as a queen.

“Have a pleasant evening, Mister Neuer. I’m sorry I can’t say I enjoyed our conversation more. Oh, and just in case you should ever feel in need to talk to a grown up, don’t call.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

She could still feel his piercing look on her back as Hansi led her through the crowd and away from him. They had just begun to dance when the song changed and a much slower tune echoed through the large room. With a smug grin, her uncle pulled her closer, bringing his hand to the small of her back. Cheek to cheek he swayed her to the beat and she could feel that her mind was almost beginning to slow down, when he decided to pick up a conversation.

“Will you tell me what that was all about?”

She bit her lip like a little girl that was about to be scolded. “Do I have to?”

He chuckled deeply, the vibration rumbling against her chest and she could easily imagine the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“I’m certainly not going to force you. It’s just, you know, I always thought you kind of liked him.”

Instantly, she could feel her face heat up. How could he possibly know that?

“True. Liked, as in past tense. And besides, it’s not that I actually know him, personally, I mean. You could perhaps say I admire his talent, at most. And he also may be kind of easy on the eyes.”

She had become more and more quiet while she spoke, merely mumbling the last sentence. But he had heard her nonetheless, her silliness making his lips twitch in amusement.

“Hm. I clearly remember your aunt begging me to invite him over for a barbecue party last summer, telling me that you wouldn’t shut up about his quiet reserve, his amazing performance on the field and his stunning smile. Sadly he didn’t have time.”

She gulped audibly, tensing up a little in his arms, which made him enjoy their little talk even more. “So, what changed your mind?”

“He did,” she said a little too quickly, before she sighed so heavily that her uncle almost regretted bringing this topic up after all. “It’s just, I don’t understand his choice in women. I mean, he could choose literally anyone, so why her? I mean, she clearly doesn’t make him happy.”

“And how do you know that? You have spoken to him for what? Like five minutes?” He turned them around, making her face the gloomy goalie once more, before he went on. “I might be wrong, sweetheart, but I think you’re just jealous.”

Over his shoulder her gaze met Manuel’s for a split second before his eyes shot to his right, where the blonde teenager stepped into the picture, blocking him from view. She sat down on his lap, her arms dragging around his neck possessively, as her lips met his in a feverish kiss. Averting her gaze immediately, her eyes darkened and her heart clenched heavily in her chest.

“If by jealous you mean disenchanted, you’re right.”

Her bitter words made him loosen his grip on her so that he could see her face, and the hurt in her eyes pained him more than he cared for.

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but he really is a good person.”

She scoffed while her incredulous eyes landed on her uncle’s soft, blue orbs. “Well, he certainly hid that pretty well.”

He gave her a tight lipped smile. “I think he’s just lost his way a little at the moment.”

“So you think I’m right then?”

The excited sparkle in her eyes made him regret his honest words a little.

“I didn’t say that.” He protested strongly. In the end it was not for him to judge his players’ private lives. “After all he is a grown man and he can decide for himself.” He could see her face fall again and so he was quick to add, “Nevertheless, I don’t think you’re completely wrong either.”

He was very pleased to see that his words had caused a small smile to crawl back to her pretty lips. He almost felt like a proud father and when she finally leaned back in a bit closer, her forgiving gesture almost made him a bit bold.

“So, uhm, one more question, sweetheart. In the unlikely event that he should after all need a grown woman to talk to, can I give him your number?”

“Certainly not,” she insisted with a steady voice, but when she looked at him, the adorable grin on her face left no doubt that this was the biggest lie she had ever told.

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Manuel was furious as he watched her leave towards the dance floor with the coach. How could she dare call him out like that and then leave without giving him the chance to set her straight? His eyes fixed on her, he watched as Flick pulled her closer, his eyes following her uncle’s hand to the small of her back. Being the gentleman he was, his hand had found the only spot on her back that was actually covered by the dark red fabric of her dress. And for a second he imagined what it might actually feel like to let his hand wander upwards until it covered her bare skin. Or maybe he could let it slip down a few inches, until his fingers would grasp the soft flesh of her behind. He had just been able to fully picture the exact feeling of her body pressed up to his when he could feel the man who actually held her in his arms catch his indecent look on his niece’s back. Immediately he sat up straight, averting his gaze, completely missing the amused smile on the other man’s face, and when he turned back to face him, he almost lost it when he found her sparkling eyes instead.

He was still trying to figure out what had happened, when he heard a familiar voice calling him.

“Hey, babe.” The high pitched noise made him flinch and instinctively his eyes shot to his right, just in time to pull his arms away before she slumped down onto his lap clumsily. She laid it on thickly as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I missed you on the dance floor, honey bun. Why don’t you come dance with me?”

And before he even had the chance to answer, her lips crashed down on his mouth almost painfully, her tongue forcing his lips to open. The stench of alcohol filled his mouth and he pushed her drunken form off of him determinedly. Before she even had the chance to protest, he lifted her up and placed her in his chair.

“I don’t think dancing is a good idea in your condition.” She glared at him, but then she seemed to have forgotten what for and her lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Look, why don’t you just stay here and I get you a nice, big glass of water to sober you up a little?”

She began to nod, but then her eyes lost focus und she stared past him at god knows what.

“All right, I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go anywhere.”

Quickly he made his way over to the counter and ordered a whole bottle of water, when he felt the slap of a hand on his left shoulder.

“Wow, you look even more frustrated than after our knock out at the World Cup in 2018. What happened?”

“Don’t ask.” He sighed as he turned around to face his friend. Manuel hoped that he would accept his wish, but when he saw the apologetic look on Thomas’ face, he instantly knew that he wouldn’t drop the topic.

“Too late. I just did.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the next words were spoken more to himself than to his teammate.

“Great, just what I need. Another pain in my ass.”

“Another? Who was the first then?” Obviously Thomas had taken no offence and sounded a bit too cheerful for Manuel’s liking.

“She.”

He looked over at the dance floor, where the impertinent woman was just sending her uncle the most beautiful, cheeky grin he had ever seen.

“Who? Y/N?” his friend asked incredulously.

Y/N. So that was her name.

“You know that annoying woman?”

“I do, although I can’t really say she’s annoying. Met her at the coach’s home once. She seemed rather sweet and intelligent to me.”

“She certainly hid that pretty well,” Manuel growled under his breath, earning him a surprised frown from Thomas.

“Are you gonna stand here and stare daggers at her or are you gonna tell me what she did to make you throw a fit?”

“She approached me out of nowhere to tell me that I’m dating a teenager to compensate my inability to commit to a partner on eye level.”

Thomas let his words sink in for a while.

“That doesn’t really sound like her. I mean, what reason would she have to come at you like that? She doesn’t even know you.”

Manuel sighed, thinking about the way she had somehow coaxed the statements from him instead of making them herself.

“Well, she might have phrased it differently,” he admitted meekly. That seemed to spark Thomas’ interest even further and he could feel his expectant look on him, pressing him to finally tell the whole truth.

“Actually she didn’t say it like that. She only made an allusion and made me somehow say those things myself.”

“Mhm. And exactly what allusion did she make?”

Manuel rolled his eyes again, his ego still fighting to repeat her words out loud.

”She said puberty was a bitch, clearly hinting at the fact that she thought my girlfriend was too young for me.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Thomas’ roaring laughter filled the air.

“Now that does sound more like her.”

He needed a bit to contain himself when he suddenly looked up at Manuel with an unusually serious expression on his face.

“And I have to admit, Manu, she kind of has a fair point there.”

“What?”

Manuel could not believe his ears.

“Come on, man. It’s what everyone thinks. She just said it out loud.”

“Fuck you.”

But instead of rising to his expletive, Thomas just looked at him sympathetically. Pushing himself off of the counter, he pat his shoulder in an attempt to encourage him a little, ready to leave him to his self-denial.

But then he stopped. “You know, I personally didn’t have a problem with it. You’re an adult, you can make your own choices. As long as you’re happy, right? But the truth is, Manu, I don’t think you are. Not anymore.”

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

“See, I told you he wouldn’t be here. No need for all the panic beforehand.”

She narrowed her eyes at her cousin, shooting her a dirty look.

“Yeah, and I hope it’ll stay that way. Oh, and for the record: I wasn’t panicking at all, it was just you and your sister’s sudden eagerness to lure me here that got me suspicious and nervous in the first place.”

“We didn’t lure you here,” her other cousin piped up a little offendedly. “We simply wanted to spend some time with you. Come on, it’s been what, like 4 months now? Since you moved to Munich three years ago, we hardly get to see you anymore.”

“You and our father,” her sister added quickly. “So it seemed the best option to kill two birds with one stone and bring you along. After all it’s called a family day, right?”

Y/N sighed, not fully convinced, but finally ready to let the topic go.

“Right. Let’s just hope for your sakes that there will be no surprises today that might prove your guilt after all.”

“How are my girls doing?” she heard a familiar voice from behind her back, turning towards her favourite uncle with a beaming smile. What she didn’t see, however, was the brief look that was exchanged between her cousins as soon as she had turned her back, proving exactly what she had suspected all along.

“We’re good, dad. Actually, we’re more than good, we’re excellent,” the older cousin chirped.

“Great.” He paused a moment, but it was clear that he had more to say. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he looked from one woman to the other. “So,” he began carefully, before a huge Cheshire grin spread across his face. “I hope you all reserved a dance for me tonight.”

“Oh, no, daddy, not again.”

“Please, don’t make us do this.”

“There will be dancing here? If you had told me that beforehand, I certainly wouldn’t have come.”

“Of course there will be dancing. I thought that was obvious.” He had to try very hard to look a little slighted, while he actually drew a horrendous amount of amusement from their antics. “Remember, girls, we have a tradition to uphold. Whenever there is some dancing at a party, you have to reserve at least one dance for me. That’s the rule.”

And with that he turned and left them on their own again.

“Ugh, why does he always have to do that to us?” her younger cousin whined.

“Oh stop it, silly. You’re the one who likes it the most and everyone knows.”

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She had been the first to pay tribute to the family tradition and after a very exhausting Discofox dance session, luckily one of her cousins had taken over from her. Kicking off her heels, she welcomed the feel of the cool grass underneath the soles of her feet. Walking over to one of the empty tables, she slumped down heavily into one of the comfortable looking chairs. With a contented smile she let herself fall back against the backrest, closing her eyes and breathing in the mild air of the warm summer night.

“Care for a drink?”

His voice made her jump, sitting up straight immediately, eyes shooting wide open. And there he was, two shot glasses in his large hands and grinning down at her, obviously very satisfied with the slight scare he had just given her. He looked amazing, the smug bastard, in his casual jeans and white shirt, two buttons undone, topped with a sporty black jacket. She highly doubted that she had ever seen a finer man in her entire life. Luckily that didn’t make her lose her sharp tongue.

“And here I am thinking that you weren’t fond of alcohol. What happened?”

He smiled sheepishly, only one corner of his mouth tugged up, when he handed her her drink. He took his time, grabbing a chair and positioning it opposite hers, then sitting down carefully, not wanting to spill the shot all over his chest. She had already come to think that he was trying to avoid her question after all, when he locked eyes with her and finally began to speak.

“Hm. It’s been a while since I last saw you. A lot of things happened, you know. Maybe it was finally time for me to grow up.”

“Hear, hear.” With a mischievous smile she raised her glass. “To your coming of age, then.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “If you insist.”

His magnificent blue eyes never left hers while they chinked glasses, and a second later she could feel the more than welcome liquid moisturising her suddenly very dry mouth.

With a thud, their glasses landed on the table, both of them chuckling like giddy children when their eyes found each other again and then, for a moment, there was nothing but silence. The world seemed to have zoned out, leaving behind nothing but his aquamarine orbs and the wild smile on his face.

Just gradually, the world seemed to set back in again. There was the monotonous clitter of the crickets, overlaid by the muffled sound of the music that was carried over by a soft breeze, and loudest of all she could hear the beating of her own heart against her chest.

“What else has changed now that you are a proper adult?” she heard herself ask, not having the faintest idea where those words came from and how the hell she managed to deliver them so smoothly when her whole body seemed to have gotten out of control.

He took a quick look over his shoulder, his thumb pointing in the same direction.

“If you mean the dancing, I’m still not very fond of that.” Her face must have fallen a little because he was quick to add, “Except...”

“Except what?”

His eyes landed back on hers and she almost choked on her hitching breath.

“Except I think I could make an exception for the right partner.”

From the corner of her eye she registered a movement between their bodies, but she was hesitant to let her view stray from his captivating appearance. At last it was something in his eyes that looked at her expectantly which finally made her snap out of her trance.

Looking down at his hand sheepishly, it took her a while to fathom that he was actually asking her to dance with him.

Slowly her eyes wandered up to his again, asking a silent question, which he answered with an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrows. And before she knew what she was doing, she laid her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

He had just turned towards the source of the music, when she suddenly held him back.

“No, wait.”

With a puzzled look he did what she asked of him and let her twist him back around.

“Why don’t we just stay here? The music is loud enough anyway.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

She nodded softly, her teeth biting down on her lip in excitement.

And before she knew what was happening, she found herself secured against his chest by his firm grip. It felt like being pressed up to a hot furnace which she would usually have appreciated any other time, but on a sweltry night like this and in a place she had wanted to be in for so long, it was pure torture. And as if this wasn’t bad enough already, his strong fingers pressed down on her lower back, threatening to scorch her even through the fabric of her blouse as he pulled her an impossible inch further into him. He was so close now that she could sense the heat radiating off his cheek as well, bringing along a whiff of his enticing scent and she couldn’t help but close her eyes as she inhaled deeply and her head began to spin. It was odd, but her mind was completely blank by now, blank except for one thought and her lips spread into a blissful smile as she repeated it in her head again and again, relishing in the feeling that if either of them moved just the tiniest bit, their cheeks would inevitably touch.

Slowly they moved and despite the unhurried shift of their bodies her heart was beating so violently that she thought it pondered jumping out of her chest to meet his. There was no chance he wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he held her, and when he finally drew away a tad to look at her, she fully expected him to call her out for it.

But he didn’t. Instead his sinfully soft lips curled into a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“You were right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A cute chuckle escaped his mouth, leaving the corners of his eyes crinkled in the most beautiful display of amusement.

“About what you said at your uncle’s birthday party.”

“Oh.” She had said a lot that evening, words that she had come to regret later and remembering them now set her cheeks on fire. “About what exactly?”

“About everything,” he admitted without hesitation, yet he couldn’t hide the spark of misery that flitted across his sea blue orbs. “Didn’t take me very long after that night to finally see things clearly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was true. Although she knew that she probably sounded like a madwoman after everything she had confronted him with back then, at least the frown on his forehead seemed to confirm that. “I truly am. I really would have liked to see you happy.” Even if it was with that girl.

She was glad she had managed to keep that last bit to herself. She had no idea why she had said that she was sorry in the first place, but judging by the wild smile on his face it must have been the right words after all.

“Well, I certainly am happier now than I was that night.” He shrugged. “So, thank you, I guess.”

She huffed. “For what? Making absolutely inappropriate remarks on your relationship? I shouldn’t have done that. I know that now. So it should be me who is sorry here, don’t you think?”

She could feel his fingertips press into the soft flesh of her back.

“Don’t be. I guess you were exactly what I needed.” It took him a second before he realised what he had just said. “I mean it. It was exactly what I needed.”

His eyes snapped to the left and she was thankful that he couldn’t see the grin that decorated her lips as she watched the treacherous colour creep into his cheeks, spreading all the way to his ears. For a while he didn’t say another word, probably still trying feverishly to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. And when he finally spoke, she wished he hadn’t.

“There is one thing though that I have gone over and over in my mind. But no matter how long I think about it, it just won’t make sense.”

She already knew that she wouldn’t like where this conversation was heading now, but she found herself asking nonetheless.

“And what is that?”

His head turned without a warning as his eyes searched her gaze and for the blink of an eye his lips came so close that she couldn’t say if they had actually brushed along hers or if her needy heart had just imagined their brief touch. He didn’t answer her question right away, his breath blending with her own in the narrow space between their faces and suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore if she had really only dreamed up their fleeting foretaste of a kiss.

“Why did you do it?” Panic rose in her chest. She hadn’t done anything. After all it had been him who had turned his head. But as he went on, she realised that he wasn’t referring to that at all and the suffocating distress eased away bit by bit. “I mean, we didn’t even know each other when you decided to come at me like that.”

Now it was her who had to avert her gaze.

“I think I don’t really want to answer that question.”

“Why not?” His voice was so soft and gentle, making it even harder to answer him.

“Because the truth might be kind of ugly.”

“But the outcome wasn’t, so I think I’ll take that risk.”

Her feet stopped their mechanical movements as a violent shiver ran down her spine. So this would be it then. It would be over before it had really begun. Pity. But at least she would have the memory of these few minutes, of his genuine smile and the way he had held her tight against his chest. With a deep sigh she bid their daydream of a dance goodbye.

“I could tell you now that it was for some noble reason, but at the bottom of it all I think it was nothing more than jealousy that drew me to your table that night. I had been unable to ignore you all evening — ignore her. The way she behaved like a spoiled brat, drinking and losing control, not caring in the least that she not only made a fool out of herself but of you as well. God, I hated her in that moment, for having everything I ever wanted and riding roughshod over it. And when I saw you sitting there, looking so utterly crestfallen, somehow I couldn’t help it.”

An undefinable silence settled between them and the only sound that remained was the beat of the music wafting over from the party that went on behind his back. The faint whisper of the melody seemed to push itself up between them and tear them further apart, exactly as she had expected. And just like the bass, her heartbeat slowed until it died away completely.

It was over and everything she wanted to do was let go of his hand so she could do him the favour of leaving, but to her astonishment he refused to set her free. And rather then releasing her from his grip, he squeezed her hand, briefly and just once, but it was enough for her to find the courage and face him. But instead of finding a frown or a scornful pair of eyes, his blinding smile made her forget to breathe for a moment.

“I had hoped you might say that.” And with that he pulled her into his arms again and continued swaying her to the music as if she had not just revealed her repulsive self to him. Her brain still a step behind, she couldn’t do anything but stare up at him stupidly.

“What? Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” And when she shook her head like a petrified imbecile, an amused chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Because even though your behaviour was extremely infuriating, I have to admit that I like you. And asking you out on a date will be so much easier now that I know you like me too.”

With a violent jolt, the useless muscle inside her chest started to beat again, its heavy pounding filling her ears with white noise as the world around her started to spin. Unable to stop the motion, she felt herself leaning in, her nails digging into the undoubtedly expensive fabric of his jacket as she desperately tried to gain control over her unruly body.

“So, will you go out with me?”

It seemed like an eternity until she finally mustered the strength for a mechanical nod. Neither had she noticed in her struggle that he had stopped dancing, nor that the priceless look on her face had made his eyes and heart go soft for her.

“Great. That’s settled then. When are you free?”

It was only when he took a step back, taking his warmth with him as his hand slipped out of hers, that she snapped out of her trance.

“Now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

More like now as in before she could screw everything up again.

“Yes, why not? I know you have a busy schedule, so finding a date when we are both free might be tough. And above that, it is a beautiful summer evening.”

Had all those words really fallen from her mouth right now? Embarrassed about her lack of composure, her hand flew up to her mouth, making him smile again.

“I guess you have a fair point there.” And just like that, his hand was there again, fingers entwining slowly with hers like they had never been meant for anyone else. “All right then, let’s get out of here.”

***

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