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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 8: She's The Salt Of The Earth And She's Dangerous]

A/N: Be sure to vote in the poll pinned to the top of my blog AFTER you finish reading!!! 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace (again).

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “She's A Rebel” by Green Day.

Word count: 7.4k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

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“I’m sorry if I was a creep when we first met,” Aegon says. He’s been oddly philosophical since he was burned. “I hadn’t seen a hot single chick in a while, and I wanted to fuck you.”

Cregan siphoned just enough gas from a decrepit Chrysler Sebring in Merna to take the Tahoe two and a half hours west to Little Thunder Bay Campground on the shores of Lake McConaughy, a manmade reservoir and New Deal project from the 1930s. You glance over at Aegon dubiously, amused. “Do I count as hot?”

“Yeah, Chippendales, you’re hot. In like a…you live in a cabin and knit sweaters by a crackling fireplace kind of way.”

You smile. “So you got over that.”

“Oh no, I still want to fuck you. Now I just know you better, so I wouldn’t want to offend you by being obnoxious about it.”

“That’s sweet, I guess. I appreciate your discretion.”

“No problem. If you ever decide you want to take a ride on a less distinguished Targaryen brother, let me know.”

The two of you are fishing from a boat launch, dry splintering planks of wood, opaque rippling water, soft wind and bright sunshine from an aquamarine, cloudless sky. Cregan found the fishing poles in the abandoned RV you’ve moved into, a Winnebago Spirit with one of those stick figure family decals on the back window, Mom, Dad, four lovely children and a dog too, all of whom are perhaps alive but more likely dead and in any case nowhere to be found here in this tranquil corner of western Nebraska, 150 miles from the Wyoming border. Helaena digs worms from the earth, then Rhaena slices them into wriggling segments with a hunting knife and brings them to you and Aegon to be impaled on barbed hooks. Aemond, Rio, Daeron, Luke, and Cregan are swimming about twenty yards down the beach, soaked boxer shorts and nothing else, splashing each other and scrubbing the grime off their skin from a morning spent gathering wood for the firepit and the grill; Ice is paddling joyfully alongside them. Baela floats on her back and peers vacantly up into the vast blue nothingness. Aegon is not permitted in the water, as his leg is an open wound beneath his bandages. You ask him as you recast your fishing line: “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

You shrug, smirking guiltily. You thought it was obvious.

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, slow and lazy. “Oh, I get it. A loser.”

“I didn’t say loser.”

“You thought loser.”

“I implied loser.”

“It’s alright. I’ve been called worse things by people I admire much less.” He contemplates his answer as he gazes down into the water, sluggish stoned reverie. Aemond must be almost out of morphine by now. At last Aegon says: “I think the first thing I ever learned was that no matter how hard I tried, no one was ever going to love me. Not in a normal kind of way, Disney movie love, Christmas rom-com love. So I stopped trying. Mother wanted me to play piano, so I bombed the recital. Father wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, so I skipped class, went golfing and yachting, didn’t even bother to pay someone to write halfway decent essays for me. If they couldn’t love me unconditionally, I wasn’t interested in meeting their conditions.” Then he chuckles, the breeze combing through his hair, ninety degrees and only getting hotter. “I refused to work. All you’ve ever done is work. You must hate me.”

“No, I get it.” You reel in your line; a fish has stolen the worm from your hook, tiny clandestine nibbles. You impale a slimy new victim and recast. “No one wants to be used.”

“Yeah. Exactly. I wasn’t going to spend my life doing shit I didn’t want to do so my parents could brag about me to their insufferable friends and absolve themselves of their mistakes. Mother married a man who didn’t give a fuck about her, Father ignored us all. Me being a success story would have given them the impression they did something right. I couldn’t have that.”

So Aemond had to be the success story instead. You glance down the beach at where he is bursting through the water and slicking back his dripping hair from his face, showing Luke a bone he found in the muddy silt of Lake McConaughy, hopefully not human.

Aegon follows your eyeline. “Aemond went the other way, I guess. Always so pathetically desperate for their approval. Scrabbling for crumbs of it like a rat. That’s what the thing with Alys was all about, it’s the only explanation I have. Older woman, surrogate mother, comforting but chilly, fawning but forbidden, always keeping him at an arm’s length and rewarding his tricks with treats.” He smirks flirtatiously, then sees that he’s hurt you. “Oh, um, I mean…look, it wasn’t…it wasn’t a good thing, you know? He wasn’t happy. It was a seven-year-long psychotic episode, not a relationship.”

“You mentioned that Criston likes Aemond,” you say, pivoting. “The…what is he? A family friend, an assistant?”

“My mother’s personal security guard. And yeah, he cares about Aemond. He’s proud of him, he trust him, he thinks he’s more capable than any of the rest of us, and that’s probably true. It’s definitely true compared to me. But that doesn’t mean Criston always knows how to express it.”

You look out over the water, trying not to imagine Aemond touching Alys, this woman you hate without knowing her face. You wonder if he ever wishes you were more like her: older, clever, entrancing, masterful. “It must have been a strange way to grow up.”

“Cold,” Aegon says. “Hollow. Holidays, birthdays, vacations, everything. You go through the motions but something’s always missing. When you’re little, you think it’s your fault, and then eventually you realize that they’re going to be miserable whether you’re there or not. But you can get out if you’re willing to run far enough.” He scratches at his forearm, and your eyes catch fleetingly on the black ink of his tattoo: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You had told Rio something similar when you were stranded on that transmission tower in Catawissa, Pennsylvania. “This is fucked up, and I don’t mean that I don’t feel bad about what happened to Jace, and I get that millions of people have died agonizing deaths, and that all sucks, believe me, I know, but this…” He gestures vaguely, to the zombies and the desolation and the collapse of everything you’ve ever known. “It was kind of my Get Out Of Jail Free card. And in a weird way…sometimes I feel like I’ve been happier since the world ended than I ever was before.”

You smile. You know what he means. “Even if your leg gets infected and we have to saw it off without anesthesia like you’re a Civil War soldier?”

Aegon laughs and shakes his head, his hair flopping around. It’s almost long enough for him to have a man bun like Cregan’s if he wanted one “No, probably not. Also, what’s the Civil War?”

“Forget it.”

“No, now I want to know.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Aemond said something interesting this morning while you were picking blackberries with our favorite Trump supporter,” Aegon tells you, salacious and sly, offering a tantalizing morsel he knows you’re powerless to refuse. He pauses and waits for you to admit it to yourself.

“Fine. Okay. What?”

“He said that when you and Cregan are standing next to each other, you look like you belong together.”

You groan, quite loudly. “I have zero interest in Cregan romantically. Literally zero. I don’t think he sees me that way either.”

Aegon shrugs. “The dating pool is awfully small nowadays, Banana Chip. Anyone who’s not a corpse or an immediate blood relative starts to look tasty.”

“So that’s why you like me.”

Aegon grins, teeth he shows often and easily, so unlike Aemond in every way. “No. I think I’d like you anywhere.” He tugs languidly on his fishing pole. “I want a new golf club.” He forgot his at the house in Broken Bow where Jace died.

“We’ll see.”

“I want new shoes too.” One of his Sperry Bahama sneakers was burned beyond repair and filled with shreds of his own singed flesh, scraps like soft bacon fused with the padding and insole. “And some polos.”

“I’m not a Big Lots.”

“Who the fuck shops at Big Lots?” Aegon’s fishing line jerks, and he yanks hard on the pole before reeling in his catch. Suspended at the end is a long green creature, yellowish spots and a villainous angular face. “That is one ugly bitch.”

“It’s a pike,” you say, and then when you grab it you observe that the misfortunate fish has the barb of the hook piercing not through its lip but one of its bulging, glassy eyes. “Oh my God!”

Aegon squeals, horrified. He offers no meaningful assistance. “That’s so gross, that’s so gross, what are we going to do?!”

“We have to, like, I don’t know, grab the back of the hook from inside its mouth and pull it out of the eyeball, I guess…?!”

“Yeah, awesome. Good luck with that.”

You reach tentatively into the pike’s gaping mouth. Its jaws snap shut, needlelike teeth stinging your wrist. “Ow!”

“Cregan!” Aegon bellows. “Cregan, help!”

Now the others are running to the boat launch to see what’s going on, Helaena and Rhaena from the shore, everyone else from the lake, Luke helping Baela wring the water from her sundress and Ice galloping alongside Cregan. He gets a look at the pike and guffaws, loud and rumbling.

“Poor little guy. That’s some bad luck he’s got.”

“Can you get the hook out?” you ask, eager to surrender the fish, which is still thrashing franticly and gnashing its teeth, mindless cold-blooded death throes.

“Of course I can.” Cregan plucks the pike from your grasp, shoves his massive hand into its mouth, and rips the hook out with one effortless maneuver. The pike is freed, but its eyeball remains speared on the hook. Then Cregan spies blood on your wrist. “You okay there, Miss Chips?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“Freaking disgusting, man,” Aegon mutters; he and Rio are ogling the disembodied eyeball, complete with a frayed optic nerve like a tail, with identical, stunned revulsion.

You turn to smile up at Aemond, but he doesn’t notice you. He is staring at Cregan, his sole blue eye narrow and fixed and flat like still water.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The closest town is Ogallala,” Aegon says as he lays his map across the wooden picnic table. The rest of you are seated around him and picking flaky white meat from between the thin, fragile bones of the pike, which Cregan has gutted and cooked on the large metal grill that careless camping families once roasted marshmallows and hotdogs over. Helaena is at the edge of the table and writing in her spider notebook, elegant loops of cursive. Ice is lying on her belly and gnawing on a rabbit she killed for herself, its doomed black eyes gazing up at you.

“That has to be what, ten miles south?” Rio says apprehensively.

Aegon licks grease from his fingers. “Yup. A little more, probably.”

“What about Lemoyne?” Daeron says, pointing. “Or Keystone, or even Belmar? They’re all closer.”

“See how small the names are written?” Aegon tells him. “That means they’re not actual communities. They’re like a few stop signs and maybe a Dollar General and that’s it.”

“I love Dollar General,” Cregan says, nostalgic. “Man, do y’all remember Chicken in a Biskit? I used to park myself in front of the tv and eat boxes and boxes—”

“It has to be Ogallala,” Aemond insists. “We need pharmacies and grocery stores and cars to siphon gas from, we need a real town.”

Rhaena chews her lower lip anxiously. “The Tahoe is empty. We have maybe half a gallon left and that’s it. Just enough to get down to Ogallala if we’re lucky, but not back.”

“So we’ll drive until it dies and then we’ll walk. Cregan has a gas can in the back, if we find fuel we can bring some back to the Tahoe and continue from there.”

“Walk, huh?” Aegon says, looking down at his bandaged left leg, which he can’t put any weight on. He gets around by hopping, leaning against other people (oftentimes against their will), and being carried by Rio.

“Well, you’re not going,” Aemond tells him. “And Baela isn’t either.”

Baela, gazing blankly down at the map, says nothing. A brown striped snake darts through the grass only a few feet from the picnic table, moving swiftly towards the lake, and there are alarmed gasps and yelps.

“Northern water snake,” Helaena says, glancing up from her notebook. “Not venomous.”

“Good,” Rhaena replies with a shudder.

Luke says fearfully as he reads the map: “Aemond, last time we went into a town that big was Broken Bow, and…Jace…the farmhouse…”

Aemond slams his fists down on the table. “We have to, okay? We need food and water. We need bullets. I need more pain meds and bandages for Aegon, I need antiseptic and Neosporin, and Vaseline for when he’s healing, and supplies for when Baela goes into labor too, since I’ve had to use everything I had saved.”

“We need pads and tampons too,” Helaena says as she examines the black-ink inventory in her notebook. “And Advil, lip balm, bars of soap, hair ties, and socks and underwear. And that green jelly aloe vera stuff for Aegon’s sunburn.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Aemond agrees. “We need a lot of things. And we have to refuel so we can keep moving west.”

“We could stay here,” Baela says, so softly that at first you aren’t sure if you heard her right.

“What, Baela?” Rhaena asks gently.

“I want to stay here.” Baela is more resolute now. “I want to have the baby here.”

Nobody knows how to respond. Rio gives you a troubled glance. You nod in agreement, so subtly you doubt anyone else notices. Not an option.

Aemond is calm but unwavering. “Baela, I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

She pleads her case. “I like the Winnebago. I like the lake. I’m comfortable here, and we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and I…I think we could make this our home for a while, now that we’ve found someplace like this. Someplace quiet and safe.”

“We’re not safe here, Baela,” Aemond says. “It feels like we’re safe, but we’re not. We aren’t a big enough group to reliably be able to defend ourselves. We don’t have adequate supplies. We have a lake to our backs, sure, but the rest of the shoreline is open for anybody to walk right into, and our visibility is blocked by trees. No one has stumbled across us yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. And if they do we’re extremely vulnerable. But when we get to the west coast, we’ll be home.”

“I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being afraid.”

“I understand. I am too.”

“It’s different,” Baela says, abruptly fierce. “You don’t know what this feels like. None of you do. I’ve never given up and I’ve never asked to be taken care of, I’ve always been the strong one, but I’m so goddamn tired, and I want to have my baby here, and I…I…” Her large dark eyes are glistening, haunted. “Every time we’re driving I feel like I see him sitting next to me, or standing out in the middle of the road, and then I have to remember what happened all over again, and…I just…I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Rhaena takes Baela’s hands in her own, skims her thumbs across Baela’s knuckles; Luke rubs her back reassuringly. The rest of you can only offer silent, pitying looks. There are no easy answers, no fortuitous gold strikes, no shortcuts. The only way out is through.

“Whatever you guys decide, I’m leaving either way,” Rio says. “Sophie’s waiting for me in Oregon. I can’t just hang out in Nebraska forever. I’ll walk if I have to.”

“It’s over a thousand miles,” Aegon tells him.

“Doesn’t matter, man. I gotta do it.”

You add: “Obviously, I’d have to go with Rio.”

Both Aemond and Aegon appear startled. “We’ll be on the road again soon,” Aemond promises. “Tomorrow, if we can find gas in Ogallala.”

“I’m not going,” Baela whispers.

“We have to, Baela,” Rhaena implores. “It’ll be alright. We’ll take care of you, and the baby too when the time comes.”

Baela stands, strides to the Winnebago, disappears inside and slams the door behind her.

“She’ll be okay,” Rhaena tells the rest of you. “She’s…you know, she’s shaken up. She’s not thinking clearly. But she’ll realize this was the right decision. The only decision, really.”

“It’s best if we can get set up somewhere permanent before she goes into labor,” Aemond says, as if he’s defending himself. “Traveling with a baby…Baela recovering…it would be very dangerous for all of us.”

“Luke and I are thinking the same things, Aemond. We agree with you.”

He gives Rhaena an appreciative smile, very small but sincere. Then he turns to Daeron. “Baela and Aegon will have to wait here when I go south to Ogallala, since they can’t walk in the event the Tahoe runs out of gas. You’re going to stay behind to protect them.”

“Got it,” Daeron says soberly. All the bullets are gone; his compound bow, fed with arrows fashioned from sticks, is the best weapon you have left. Cregan has his axe, Rio still prefers to bash skulls with the butt of his Remington shotgun, everyone else must make do with hunting knives from that cellar back in Pennsylvania and kayak paddles found here at Lake McConaughy.

Aemond looks around the table. “I’ll need Rio, Cregan, and Luke.”

“And our beloved furball Blue Raspberry Icee,” Aegon says, smirking. “To sniff out any zombies.”

“Yes. Ice too.”

“What about me?” you say, staring incredulously at Aemond.

“Not you. You’re staying here in the RV.”

“If you and Rio are going, I’m going.”

“No, you’re not,” Aemond says. “You’re the best shot, and we all agree about that, but we’re fresh out of bullets. You therefore have no advantage tactically.”

“What’s Luke’s advantage?”

There are awkward chuckles. Aemond leaves the picnic table and gestures for you to follow him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Why?”

Aemond doesn’t answer; he keeps walking until he’s hidden amongst a small grove of Kentucky coffeetrees, oval emerald leaves and umber seed pods that hang from branches, reminding you of skate egg cases—what some people call mermaid’s purses—you once found washed up on the beach outside Djibouti City. Rio teases you: “Ohhh, you’re in troubleee…”

You swat him on the back of the head; his hair is getting long too, dark curls that flutter in the breeze that comes in off the lake, hot and humid, the infinite wildness of July. “If I’m not going, you have to swear that you’ll—”

“I got it, I got it,” Rio says, blasé and jolly. “I’ll look underneath things, I’ll look on top of things, I’ll look everywhere. Okay?”

Aegon kicks him with his good foot. “Get me a golf club.”

“I’m not a Dick’s!”

“Dicks?! Who brought up dicks, you sicko…?!”

You go after Aemond and meet him in the shade, an island of twilight in the omnipotent golden morning. He pushes you against one of the Kentucky coffeetrees—rough bark to your back, prodding you through your t-shirt—and nuzzles your throat as he presses his hips to yours, blissful clandestine surrender as your knees weaken and you gaze dizzily up into the canopy of leaves.

You sigh: “This is not an explanation. This is a distraction. A very enjoyable one, but a distraction nonetheless.”

“Daeron is good with a bow, but he’s young,” Aemond murmurs. “I need you to help him protect the others.”

“You’ve managed to make this sound like a promotion.”

“And,” Aemond continues. “When things get risky and chaotic, and I’m trying to make sure everyone is safe…I find you being around to be…distracting.”

“Rio doesn’t think I’m a distraction.”

He chuckles, avoidant. “That’s not an equivalent situation.”

“I get that Luke has binoculars, but I am also perfectly capable of using binoculars, and I could borrow his and he could stay here. I really don’t think he’d mind being benched, he’d probably prefer it—”

“I always ask you to stay near Rio, and you never do, and then I have to worry about you getting lost or bitten or imperiled in any one of a million other ways.”

“Because it’s not that simple! Rio gets it, I have to be able to improvise—”

Suddenly, Aemond pulls away and asks: “Do you trust me?”

You are bewildered. “What?”

“Because I could understand if you don’t.”

You search his scarred face; he has that look like he’s trying not to reveal too much of himself, to show that he’s nervous or vulnerable or afraid. You touch your palm to his ravaged cheek, your voice soft. “I trust you, Aemond.”

He seems relived. “Good. Then please stay here.”

“You’ll watch out for Rio?” you say threateningly.

“Of course.”

“And yourself too.”

He grins, those small secretive teeth he loves to hide. “That’s the plan.”

“And you’ll check under things and on top of things, and you’ll remember what I said about the racks? When you go into stores and you’re rummaging through—?”

Aemond kisses you, warm and slow and kind, the curve of his lips pleased and mischievous. “It’s flattering that you’re so concerned.”

“And don’t forget the pads and tampons.”

His scarred eyebrow rises half an inch. “Oh?”

“I’m already having pre-period cramps. I’ll need supplies in a few days.”

“You’ll have them. Don’t fear.” Then he studies you, concerned, his brow furrowing and his palm testing your cheek and forehead. “You feeling okay? You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Oh yeah, totally. It’s very routine at this point, I’ve had a decade to get accustomed.”

“Alright. If there’s anything else you think of before we head out, I’ll add it to the list.” He takes your hand and examines the shallow scratches left on your wrist by the needlelike teeth of the pike. “Let me clean and wrap that up for you. I think I have just enough bandages left.”

“Your worst nightmare came true,” you joke. “I was bitten after all.”

Aemond doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s long after nightfall and you and Aegon are keeping watch just outside the Winnebago Spirit, slumped in folding camping chairs people once told their legends from: scary stories, workplace grievances, familial mythology. In the firepit, logs split and pop, and embers glow a bloody red. You’re waiting for the Tahoe to return and trying not to think about the possibility it might not.

“These suck,” Aegon says, garbled by a mouthful of Cheddar Whales, grimacing at the bright blue box. “Why do you and Rio eat these? They’re like…dodgy Goldfish.”

“Are you kidding?! They’re way better than Goldfish! Goldfish don’t taste like anything.”

“And Cheddar Whales taste like salty cardboard. The American Dream.” Aegon passes the box back to you. “They better come back with some SpaghettiOs or Rice-A-Roni or something. I can’t survive on Cregan’s overcooked fish.” He lights a Marlboro Gold cigarette by sticking it into the fire and takes a deep drag, looking up at the stars. Aemond gave him the last of the morphine before he left, and Aegon is floating on a feathery, narcotic cloud.

You say after at last working up the nerve: “So you’re a slut, right?”

He snickers, firelight dancing on his sunburned face. “Slut, loser, you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a slut. Why?”

“Have you ever had trouble…” Your hands flail around aimlessly; it’s so awkward to say out loud. “You know…getting it in?”

“No, not really. But I’m hung like a hamster.” He looks over at you, curious shimmering stoned blue eyes. “Technical difficulties, Chip And Dip? Not enough dipping going on?”

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re probably just nervous. Aemond’s a doctor, he’d be able to tell if you had something wonky down there, like those chicks who are born without a vagina. Or with two vaginas. Jesus Christ, can you imagine the possibilities? Why can’t I meet someone like that?”

You stare into the fire, discouraged. “I’m going to ruin everything.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Aemond will assume it’s his fault. He thinks everything is his fault.”

Through the darkness, you spot headlights bobbing as the Tahoe approaches on bumpy dirt roads. “Oh, thank God. They’re back.”

“About time. If Rio didn’t find me a new golf club, I’m going to drown him in the lake.”

“He could break you in half.”

“But he wouldn’t.”

“No.”

“Because he likes me too much.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you like me too,” Aegon says as he exhales smoke, his glazed eyes listing to you, his grin crooked and drowsy. “Just a little bit.”

You smile reluctantly. “I might.”

“Cool.” He beams up at the stars, and then says again: “Cool.”

As the massive SUV rolls to a halt, the headlights cascading over you and so bright they’re nearly blinding, you notice the red letters on the grill: GMC. “That’s not the Tahoe,” you say, panicked.

“What? Then who is it?”

“I don’t know.” You stand up, instinctively reaching for one of your M9s; but they’re both empty. All the guns are. Your hand drops to your side.

Aegon, unable to rise on his own, remains in his chair and grips the armrests tightly. He whispers: “Should we go inside…?!”

“They’ve already seen us. But they don’t know who’s in the RV.” Rhaena, Baela, Helaena. With a shiver like a bolt of cold lightning, you recall what Aemond said at the bowling alley back in Shenandoah, Ohio: I don’t want them to know we have women with us.

The GMC Yukon is still running when two men step out, the headlights disorientingly bright. They are both armed, you see immediately, pistols that you’d guess are Colts. Aegon’s hand juts out and closes around your forearm as the strangers approach. They are both young, maybe twenty, and wearing jeans, camo jackets, and baseball hats like they’re going hunting. They stand in the yellow-white glow of the headlights as they watch you.

“Hi,” you say congenially, forcing a smile.

The men glance at each other, then one greets you with a nod. “Howdy.”

“We’re set up here,” you say. “But it’s a big campground. You’re welcome to any of the other spots.”

The man who spoke earlier chuckles and scratches at his short beard. You steal a glimpse back at Aegon: his eyes are huge and horrified.

“It’s real quiet on the lake,” you continue. “We haven’t had any problems, and we’ve been here a few days. It’s a good place. We’re happy to share it. We don’t…” You deliberate what words to use. “We aren’t interested in making trouble. We just want to be left alone.”

The man replies: “I camped here every single summer growing up, learned to fish here, swam in the water with my cousins, brought my girlfriends here to fuck. And now you’re inviting me to stay? You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent. This is my backyard. You’re the one who should be asking for permission.”

Aegon is making a low, whimpering sound; his fingernails are digging into the defenseless, downy underside of your forearm. “We don’t have anything of value,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Uh huh.” The stranger’s gaze flicks to the Winnebago.

“We found it. There’s no gas, no keys. Two of the tires are flat. It’s just shelter.”

“Who else is in the RV?”

“No one.”

The second man is squinting at Aegon. “Is he a cripple?”

“He was burned. That’s why we’re resting here for a while, so he can heal.”

The first man points to the bandage on your wrist. “Did you try to kill yourself? My neighbor did that when her kid got eaten. Slit her veins open out in the middle of the street. Bad scene.”

“I got mauled by a fish,” you reply numbly.

He laughs, a slow, rolling, mocking sort of sound, not taking his eyes off you. Then they drop to the Beretta M9s you have holstered at your waist. “Are those loaded?”

“Yes.”

He signals to the nearest Kentucky coffeetree. “Prove it. Shoot that tree.” You stare at its trunk, stark in the headlights of the strangers’ SUV. Long seconds tick by, the only sound the idling of the engine and the crackling of the firepit. “You can’t,” the man says, grinning. “Because you’re out of bullets. But I’m not.”

He raises his pistol and fires, a thunderclap, a mechanical roar. A small circular wound appears in the tree. Aegon shrieks and tries to stand; he tumbles to the earth when the raw, weeping flesh beneath his bandages betrays him. The RV door flies open and Daeron is the first one out, clutching his compound bow but still blinking his way out of the dreams he was jolted from. He won’t be able to nock one of his makeshift arrows before they shoot him.

“What the hell’s going on—?!”

“Drop it!” the stranger shouts, and both he and his companion aim their pistols at Daeron. He freezes. Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena exit the RV and begin screaming, clinging to each other.

“Do what they ask,” you tell Daeron, trying to remain calm. With great hesitancy, he sets his bow on the earth and puts his empty palms in the air. There are hunting knives inside the RV, you think. Where did we store them? In a drawer, in a cabinet?

The men are now herding you all into the RV, jabbing the barrels of their pistols against your backs and bellies. “Let’s go, everybody in,” the first one says. The second man hooks an arm forcefully under one of Aegon’s and drags him through the threshold, Aegon yowling as his burned leg smacks against the doorframe. The second man forces Aegon and Daeron to kneel on the floor at the front of the RV near the driver’s seat; the other one arranges the women at gunpoint, instructing you to squeeze together to sit in a row on the floral couch. Helaena—farthest from you and closest to the kitchenette booth—is sobbing and covering her ears. Rhaena appears to be hyperventilating. Baela’s head is held high, her face furious and defiant.

Aemond, Rio, Cregan, please come back…

“Now this is interesting,” the first man is saying to his friend. He uses his pistol to indicate to each of you. “We’ve got G.I. Jane, this delicate little sweetheart, a pregnant lady, and Cinderella. Where should we begin…?”

You glance at Rhaena, catch her wide frenzied eyes, then look meaningfully at the drawers across the aisle near the kitchenette stove and sink. Knife? you mouth.

It takes her a moment to realize what you mean, then she inclines her head, an elusive nod. She remembers where they are, where they were stored once she cleaned them this afternoon in the lake water. That’s good; but in order for Rhaena to grab a large serrated hunting knife, the men will need to be distracted.

“There’s a bed in the back,” the second man is saying. “I can see it from here, down the hallway…”

Your gaze is darting around the Winnebago. Aegon is yelling something; the second man pistol-whips him, fortunately not hard enough to fracture his skull.

“Don’t worry,” the first man tells Aegon, background noise you try to ignore as you search for an opportunity. “You’ll get to watch…”

Helaena is trying to get your attention, staring at you with her wide, gleaming blue eyes. You furrow your brow at her, not understanding…and then you see the burlap strap she’s looped around her wrist. Her messenger bag must be in the kitchenette booth beside her. And as you watch, and only for a second, she arranges her fingers in the shape of a gun.

The Ruger, you realize, amazed, that tiny revolver she was always so repelled by. Helaena never used it, but she still has it. And it’s loaded.

Baela is arguing with the men, words you tune out. Helaena points to you, but you shake your head. There’s no way for her to get the Ruger to you without them seeing. You mouth to Helaena, your face severe: You have to do it. Then you look to the first man, presently waving his pistol in Baela’s face.

“I’d like to go first,” you say casually, and all the noise stops.

“No, no, no, I’ll do it,” Aegon tells the men. “You want a blowjob? You want to fuck me in the ass? I’m down. I’m not scared of no dick. I experimented in college.”

Both strangers burst into hysterical laughter. “That’s a mighty generous offer,” the second one says, swiping a tear from his eye. “But that’s not the team we’re on, is it, Wesley?”

The first man, Wesley, is smiling down at you. His gaze sweeps over your body, from your bare feet to your eyes, calm and level. “Why do you want to go first, darling?”

Shoot him, Helaena. Shoot him right now. “I’ve never done it before. I figure I should give it a try before it’s too late.”

Helaena whips the Ruger out of her burlap messenger bag and opens fire. She winces each time it goes off, and her aim is terrible; bullets pierce the ceiling and the walls, striking nowhere near Wesley or his accomplice, but their panicked ducking buys valuable seconds. Daeron and Aegon tackle the man closest to them and wrestle the pistol from his hands. Aegon presses the barrel to his skull, pulls the trigger, kills him instantly. Rhaena flies to one of the drawers and yanks out a hunting knife ten inches long. She buries it in Wesley’s throat, the blade disappearing until the hilt rests on his collarbone. When she rips it free, scarlet blood jets from his severed carotid artery, spraying you, soaking you. Blood is in your eyes and nostrils, hot coppery carnage; when you scream, you can taste it in your mouth.

People are reaching for you and telling you to calm down, that they’ll help you, but you can’t wait. You use your t-shirt to mop as much of the blood as you can from your face and bolt through the door of the RV, running towards the lake. You drop to your knees on the sand and splash yourself, cool moonlit rivulets that wash the blood away. You’re trembling, you’re crying, and when somebody grabs you by the arm you scream and strike out at them, clawing like an animal.

“It’s me,” Aemond says, and only then do you get a good look at him, blood and lake water beading on your eyelashes. He’s wiping blood off your face with his palms, he’s inspecting you for fresh wounds. “Don’t fight, it’s me, it’s me, whose blood is this, what happened—?!”

“You were right,” Baela says to Aemond from where she stands on the sand, a hand resting on her belly. Drifting from the RV are the voices of the others who have just returned: Rio, Cregan, Luke. “We’re not safe here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, rain falls as you lie entangled with Aemond in the attic bedroom of a ranch house in Red Desert, Wyoming, flashing lightning and flickering candles illuminating bare skin. You are kissing feverishly, your hands all over each other, and Aemond is pushing himself into you; or, rather, he is trying to. There is pain, and you can feel your body turning treasonous, rejecting him, shrinking away from him, fearing that you’ll never be able to satisfy him.

No, no no no…

His voice is hushed and gentle as his lips brush your ear. “Hey, you’re shaking, why are you shaking?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine, keep going.” And then, when he stops: “No, Aemond, don’t—”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You have to. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Instead, he lies down beside you and turns your face to his, fingerprints on the slope of your jaw. He asks again, more firmly: “Why are you shaking?”

All the walls and arches of you collapse, stones tumbling to crack against the earth. You are suddenly fighting tears. Your words come out in a whisper. “I want this to be real.”

He studies your face, distressed. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to lose you. I never thought I’d have something like this and now I’m so afraid of fucking it up.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what Jace thought.”

Aemond pulls you against his chest and holds you as you sink through him into dark, cold, watery dreams, and doesn’t make any more promises he can’t keep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What time is it on the East Coast right now?” you ask Rio. It’s May and almost a hundred degrees every day in Djibouti City—arid, rainless, sun glare and dust that sting your eyes—so the Navy has you building at night when they won’t have to deal with quite so many Seabees dropping over from heatstroke. Outside the day is turning to a soft lavender dusk and your shift will begin soon. You are dressed—sand-colored t-shirt, camo pants, work boots—and toweling off your hair, still wet from the shower.

Rio is sprawled across the floor of your room, taking up almost all of it; housing at Camp Lemonnier consists of converted shipping containers, each outfitted with its own perpetually whirring air conditioning unit. He is reading Fifty Shades Of Grey. “Like seven hours behind here, so early afternoon, I guess.” Then he looks up at you, suspicious. “Why?”

“I should probably call.”

“Should you really?”

“I want to. I’ll feel guilty if I don’t.”

Rio shakes his head and returns his attention to his reading material. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“You love telling me what to do.”

“I wish you loved listening.” He flips a page, puzzled. “Why the fuck does Sophie like this book so much…?”

You open Facebook Messenger on your phone and make a call. The wifi isn’t good for videos, but old-fashioned audio calls usually work okay. There is an answer on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?” she says, and you can hear the entire house when she turns on speakerphone: the squeaking of the recliner, the droning of a talk show, indistinct speech and chuckling from other people, glass—cups, bottles, baking dishes, ashtrays—clinking sharply.

“Hi, Mama! Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Aw, ain’t you sweet to call.” And you are testing her voice like water from a tap, icy cold, hot enough to scald. At the moment, Mama sounds perfectly lukewarm. “I didn’t count on hearing from you. I know how busy you are.”

That’s a landmine that you step gingerly around. “We definitely have a lot going on here, and there’s the time difference and everything…but I wanted to make sure to say hi, even if I can’t talk for long. What are you up to today?”

“Oh, nothing much.” You hear her smoking: breathe in, breathe out, a cunning sort of pause as she decides how to proceed. Of course there were no extravagant festivities planned. Nothing ever felt like a real holiday at home: Mama getting sloshed and burning the turkey on Thanksgiving, Christmas presents that had to be returned for grocery and gas money, fistfights and doors ripped off hinges on New Year’s Eve. You had decided years ago that Hallmark channel magic was pure fiction…but sometimes you get glimpses of it now. Thanksgiving dinner in some unceremonious chow hall with Rio and your other friends feels more like a holiday than anything else you’ve ever known. “You still in Africa?”

“It’s Djibouti, Mama, I told you. It’s on the Horn. Across the sea is Yemen and Saudi Arabia.”

“Why can’t they put y’all to work in your own goddamn country?”

“Well, we do that too sometimes.” You stall, listening to her smoking. Rio glances up at you from where he’s still reading on the floor. “They have some incredible beaches here. Yesterday morning we went down to the water and there were all these cute kids playing, and they only spoke French but Rio showed them how to play tic-tac-toe by drawing a board in the sand—”

“I like the beach,” she says, and you know you’ve made a mistake. “You remember that?”

Deflated now: “Yeah, Mama. I remember. Are the boys going to take you to Virginia Beach this summer?”

She scoffs. “We’ll see, but I doubt it. It’s expensive, girl.”

You sigh deeply. Rio was right. I shouldn’t have called. “We talked about this. I need to be saving up to get my own house one day, and my own car, and all those things I’ll need to have a life when I get out of the Navy—”

“And what about my house?!” Mama cries, damn near wails. “I’m gonna lose it! I can’t make the payments!”

You reply calmly: “Mama, that’s your house. That’s your business. And you’ve got more than one kid still living at home long after they’ve turned eighteen, so they need to be the people you’re asking to help, not me.”

“You’re gonna let your Mama be homeless? Is that what you called to tell me on Mother’s Day? What the hell kind of daughter are you?”

“I got out!” you shout into the phone, and Rio is scrambling off the floor to rush to you. “I’m learning things and I’m making money and I’m building schools and hospitals on the other side of the fucking planet, and you can’t be proud of me because you think it means you’ve failed, but the truth is that you could have gotten out too! All of you could have! But you didn’t, it was me, it was just me, and now you hate me for it!”

“You need to come home now,” Mama says. “You gotta take care of me, take care of your Mama. You only got one and she needs you, so you gotta heed me. That’s what’s right.”

“I am not going to spend the rest of my life watching you get wasted in that filthy house, and I’d work where, at the Dollar General? At Arby’s? And get knocked up by the first guy who shows any interest?”

“You’re giving me heart palpitations. I’m gonna have to go to the emergency room and it’s all your fault.”

Rio is whispering into your other ear, one of his massive palms resting on the back of your neck: “Just hang up. It’s not worth it. You can hang up, just hang up…”

“I want things to be normal,” you tell Mama, you plead, tears stinging in your eyes. “I’ve tried so hard to get along with everyone, and help you as much as I can, but no matter what I do it’s not enough, and you’re always mad at me, and you’re always fighting with me—”

“You’re damn right I’m fighting with you, because you’re a spiteful, selfish child.”

“Hang up,” Rio is murmuring. “Hang up, hang up, hang up…”

“Mama,” you say, your voice strangled. “I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

“When I’m homeless, you know you got no one but yourself to blame—”

You hit the red button to end the call, throw your phone down onto the bed, stare at the wall and swallow noisily, choking back sobs. You won’t let yourself cry. You’ve cried enough for them already. You have to keep moving forward. The only way out is through. “You were right,” you say to Rio at last, quiet and raspy. Your hands are trembling. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“Hey.” He grabs your face roughly, forces you to look at him with your miserable shimmering eyes, grins hugely. “I’m your mom now, bitch.”

You laugh as tears spill down your cheeks, let him bury you in one of his smothering bear hugs, cling to him like a life raft in a storm.

[roryculkinsgf]

million dollar man // coriolanus snow

Description: Christmast Eve with breadwinner Coriolanus Snow, taking care of his future wife

TW: smut, dom!coryo, housewife!reader, controlling over the reader, praise kink

Word count: 1.5k

(English isn't my first language, and I do not own the characters)

One for the money,

two for the show, 

I love you, honey,

I'm ready to go...

Round Christmas time everything seems  a bit too busy, crowded streets and malls. People on every corner, not single free space to live. The world just turns that way as soon as November comes around. There's no exception for the chaos, not even in Capitol. City created and ruled by the cruel men who swore to be good, failing audibly after their proud hearts wished for power over ordinary human beings. Many rebels wished to tear this fucked up system down, district citizens buried themselves in fear and your boyfriend wasnt making it any better. A boy who once promised to destroy the bad, turned himself right into the dead void. Heart beating, blood pumping, but oh kindness faded by those who dared to doubt. He became a living corpse, only one who bring warmth into his existence was you. Each time you wanted to leave for better, you came running back. Something very wrong seemed like a drug in him, but before you could realize, your addiction became deadly. Merry Christmas, I guess?

"Morning, sweetheart," he splashed a kiss into your cheek. His hands grabbed you by your waist in a dominant manner. He kinda liked to show off his control, except not just kinda and mostly over you. "Morning, Coriolanus." Soft moan spilled into his mouth when he squeezed your little butt. You could hear as he kissed your neck, muffled words of "all mine". Normally you'd probably let him go on and bend you over the kitchen desk, but it was Christmas Eve today, and he simply has to wait. 

"Not now, Coryo..s-stop..." you whimpered at the feeling of him taking the best of you. His hand was moving lower by the slowest pace posssible. His fingers slipped into your underwer, you closed your eyes. One single slick by your soft spot and suddenly he wasn't touching you at all. 

When you opened your eyes, he was holding a cup and sipping the bitter-sweet liquid from it. Nothing about his expression mentioned the fact that you two almost did it. "What are you staring at, m'lady? It's you who told me to stop, remember? And you've got work to do anyway. Get into it, for me." He ordered with a smug grin not long before he walked to his office, ready to let you prepare for this whole day all by yourself. You were the housemaker afterall, not him. And you have to make sure your man is  pleased, it's your job.

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

"God Lord, Y/n...I've never eaten such a food in my life. That ham, and the mashed potatoes. Don't even get me started on the casserole, somehow you made me love green beans, princess. You're one hell of a cook, know I'm keeping you forever." There was simply no way to stop his praises. Damn well you knew you deserved them, you worked you ass off. The dishes you prepared were strange to you, yet familiar after each smile he gave you when he took the first bite. Seeing him fulfilled was all you needed.

"Thank you so much, Coryo. I made sure to prepare the best dinner I could manage, and as I see it payed off quite well, didn't it?" A warm smile filled your cheeks. He coudln't resist to reach his hand to your face, fingers delicately stroking your flushed skin. "Are you so red just for me, princess? You're such a pretty little sweet thing." 

Kisses splanded all over your lips, washing you over with passion. His brain got foggy just from the pureness of you, the redness of your skin each second. Because as they passed, he kept pulling you closer and closer, until no forces could ever possibly seperate you. His arms held you, shield from blood and flesh, the good feeling of being protected and elogiezed by a man. You gave in. No one could ever have you as much as he did, you sure know that.

Rough lips bruised your neck, leaving tumescent spots for you to admire tomorrow. Long way along your collarbone, shoulders. You were becoming his each moment, the world belonged to you two and he rulled every way that Earth dared to orbit for you. 

Part of the sky crashed when he rougly pushed you against the kitchen table. Your chin met a set of ceramic bowls fillled with food. Few glasses, wine and regular ones slipped when you pulled at the fancy cloth, what was shiny got poured over with all sorts of things. The great scent of food turned into a gross mess when a pot ringed as it hit the floor. Soup was flooding all over the dining room and you wanted to cry. No, you wanted to grab your shit-ass boyfriend by his shirt and choke him to death for daring to ruin hours of your hard work.

The sound of him rolling his eyes filled the room. "You're gonna clean that later, now be pretty and good for me. You know you can, darling." He massaged your ass under that mini skirt he made you wear. Big manly hand squeezed you until you felt incredibly helpless and small. He enjoyed he could boss you around, do anything to your tired body, play with you however he wanted to. And so he did. 

"Let me get you dolled up." From his pocket he pulled a thin fabric, wasting no time he began twisting it around your thighs, legs, butt even. It was a red ribbon, you didn't even process when he layed it over your wet pussy. 

"W-what's that for?" You couldn't understand. "Just...preparing a gift for myself, so fucking soft and all mine." He dropped right to his knees, as he pushed his face in between your butt cheeks. digging deep in he made a way across your pussy with his tongue. Somehow he was on you, in you. Digging into you, and you could feel heat all over yourself. His nails kept you in your place as he ate you out. Seeming like a starved man, he couldn't just get enough of his future wife. You were even more pressed against the table than before, nothing to muffle your moans against. Whispers echoed throughout the whole room, his pride and ego expanding with each sound.

"C-coryo..." You whimpered audibly. Closing your eyes so hard, shutting them in pleasure thinking they might not even ever open again. You couldn't stop grasping at the cloth, not until his face switched to two long fingers. He stood up and with one arm pinned you against himself, with other he got lost inside of you deep. "Shhh... princess, my pretty girl. You better get that pussy stretched out good, before I fuck you hm? Be good and let me  prepare you for me, mkay?" Despite your body shaking you nodded to his words. You could hear him purr. "That's my girl."

More minutes passed, you felt already fucked out. Brain soggy and legs trembling, all wet from how much he overstimulated you. When he pulled out, he braught his hand to your face. "Taste yourself, love. Go on." With your tongue you licked all the silky substance off. Each lick drawn made his pants tighten even more. His dick was begging to be touched, to be taken care of. 

Even if it embarassed you all too well, his will to be in charge and the bigger one just took over you. "Master, please... I... need you. S-so bad..." you whispered. Hot breath brushed around your neck. "Oh, I know you do, my princess." He unziped his pants. "You're always such a fuck-doll for me, sweetie." His dick slid out is boxers, standing in pride and arousal. "Want your master to fuck you pretty now?" He already teased your clit by fucking into the space between your thighs and pussy. "Mhm.." You whimpered. "Oh, but honey you know I need words. Tell me what you want and consider it done. Hm?" You sighed and breathed out all your self-respect into the heavy air with the  words: "Yes, please fuck me, master. Deep and hard, I can take it all for you."

"Such a good girl," He whispered as his cock slipped right into you. Precum softened the first thrust, but the ones following braught your face to red. He couldn't help but smack at your bare flesh, like fucking you wide opened wasn't enough. Like he needed to feel you all around, in his hands, in his whole power. And fuck it, let's be honest, you liked that. Each firm thrust that just felt like a crack into your body, every hit, every moan that vocalized from his mouth, his thumb massaging your tiny clit. Surrounded by torturing pleasure, you let him make this the most unforgettable Christmas of all your lives.

[pxnsneverland]

Heartbreak Hotel | austin!elvis x oc (part 3)

(gif source: austinbutlermischief)

plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a costume designer at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?

Part 1 | Part 2

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 2501

warnings/notes: N/A

Chapter 3: A Christmas Showdown

Even after a few days, Martin Luther King's death weighed heavily on Elvis' mind. Angel could see him straining to keep his cool. Even completing the film seemed less important to him. Angel did her best to console him and distract him from his inner turmoil, but it didn't seem like enough. The Colonel also attempted to deflect Elvis' attention, despite the fact that his plan contained a whole new musical extravaganza for Elvis. Christmas Elvis.

“Jingles, Jingles,” Colonel Parker sang, “Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus lane,” as he steered a reindeer-drawn sleigh engraved into a 3D copy of the stage Elvis was to play on.

Angel and Elvis sat outside around Elvis' trailer, trying to stay cool in the scorching heat of Los Angeles. Elvis shifted his gaze between the Colonel and the diorama. There was a quiver in his eye as he tried to conceal his disgust at the prospect of a Christmas special.

“Elvis Presley’s Wonderful World of Christmas,” Colonel said, straightening up, “Brought to you by the Singer Sewing Machine Company, to every television set in America.”

“Elvis and Christmas?” Angel questioned.

“Why not? My boy is a good Christian son of God. The fans will love it. It only takes three days to tape and there’s no audience.”

“I’m not questioning that Elvis is a Christian. I’m sure his mama taught him well. But Elvis singin’ in front of a bunch of fake Christmas sets?”

Colonel Parker glared at Angel. “With all due respect, Ms. Casteel, I don’t know why you’re questioning anything. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Elvis said, folding his arms. Elvis's voice was firm, his stance protective. The Colonel’s eyes flickered with surprise, perhaps unaccustomed to Elvis asserting himself in matters outside his usual domain.

“Colonel, she’s right,” Elvis continued, his voice softer now but no less determined. “This Christmas special— it's not me. It doesn’t feel right, not now.” He glanced at Angel, seeking her support. Angel nodded, squeezing his hand. She could see the conflict written all over his face—the desire to please his fans and follow the Colonel’s guidance versus his own artistic integrity and current emotional state.

Colonel Parker adjusted his glasses, seemingly calculating his next words carefully. “Elvis, son, I know it’s been a tough time for you. But this could be a good distraction. Plus, it's good publicity.”

“I appreciate that, Colonel,” Elvis replied slowly. “But maybe this ain’t the time for distractions. Maybe it’s time I faced things head on.” His gaze hardened slightly as he looked back at the Colonel. “This special... it ain’t going to help me do that. Plus I ain’t sang and performed live in years. I don’t know if a Christmas special is the best way to start that up again.”

Colonel Parker wrinkled his brow. He gave Angel a disgusted glance before returning his gaze to Elvis. Angel could care less. She didn't appreciate how he handled Elvis or how he purposefully sheltered him from anybody else's perspective that contradicted what he wanted Elvis to accomplish. He was attempting to transform Elvis into a puppet, removing the rebel everyone had grown to love.

“Why not?” Colonel asked Elvis. “A Christmas sweater. Made on the new Singer home knitting apparatus.”

Elvis shook his head, a mix of frustration and resolve flickering across his features. "Colonel, it’s not about the sweater or the stage or any prop you can throw in there. It's about what feels genuine to me," he said, his voice steady and firm. "I can’t sing about joy and peace when my heart is heavy. It wouldn’t be honest. It wouldn’t be right."

Colonel Parker’s face hardened, the lines deepening around his mouth. "Elvis, think about your career, son. This is an opportunity. A big one." His tone was persuasive but tinged with a hint of desperation.

But Elvis was no longer paying attention. On the little TV his cousin Jerry had dragged out, he was watching Robert F. Kennedy. He was delivering a speech in protest of Dr. King's assassination. Angel rose up and approached Elvis, laying a hand on his back. He naturally placed his arm over her shoulders. For days, the TV had been tuned into the riots and carnage in Elvis' birthplace of Memphis. That, more than anything else, had broken him.

“Memphis is burning,” Angel said quietly, my gaze fixed on the screen.

“You’re right, darlin’. And a damn Christmas special ain’t gonna help.” Elvis looked at the Colonel over his shoulder.

Colonel Parker sighed heavily leaning on his cane. He ran a hand over his face. “We took the Hollywood phonies for every nickel they had and, after filming ends next week, it is time for us to pack up our tents and move onto greener pastures.” He drew in closer. “We’ve seen Elvis the Rebel. We’ve seen Elvis the Movie Star. Now, we will see Elvis the Family Entertainer. The people need to believe in hope, happiness, the spirit of Christmas!”

“You turnin’ into an appliance salesman?” came Jerry’s voice.

Elvis tensed. “What did you say?” 

Angel attempted to retain hold of him. “Elvis, don’t…” Her grip wasn't strong enough, and he slid out easily, slowly heading towards Jerry. “Jerry was just jokin’.”

“I don’t give a damn if he was jokin’ or not.” Elvis jabbed a finger at Jerry's face. The dark-haired vocalist was shaking. “Listen, Jerry, I don’t need you to question me about how I support my family and every goddamn person here! You understand me?! If you don’t like it, you can pack your shit and go back to Memphis.”

Jerry's face paled, his eyes wide as the last vestiges of humor vanished. The tension in the air was thick, everyone around could feel the raw nerve that had been touched. Elvis' hand was still trembling when he finally lowered it. Angel was worried Elvis’s next move would be a punch to Jerry’s face. Instead, Elvis stormed off into the trailer slamming the door shut behind him.

“You shouldn’t have said that, Jerry.” Angel’s gaze was fixed on the door through which Elvis had vanished.

Jerry's shoulders slumped, his face reflecting a mix of regret and fear. "I didn't mean no harm by it," he murmured, more to himself than to Angel. His gaze shifted uncomfortably from the door to the ground.

Angel sighed heavily, rubbing her temples as she tried to ease the tension headache that had begun to form. She turned to Jerry, her voice soft yet firm. "Elvis is under a lot of pressure, you know that.”

The air around them felt heavy, charged with an uncomfortable silence following the outburst. The Colonel, still leaning on his cane, finally spoke up, attempting to regain some control over the situation. "Let's all take a breather," he suggested gruffly. "Give Elvis some space to cool down." He shuffled away, leaving Angel and Jerry alone in the dusty parking lot filled with trailers and equipment.

"Go talk to him," Jerry urged after a moment, nodding toward Elvis' trailer. "He'll listen to you, Angel."

Hesitating only briefly, Angel nodded in agreement and headed towards the trailer. She stepped inside locking the door behind her. Elvis sat on the couch, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand, lingering. His eyes were distant, a storm of emotions swirling within them as he stared into the amber liquid. The trailer was quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioner mixed with Elvis's shallow breaths.

After a long moment, Elvis sighed heavily and turned to look at her. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said softly.

Angel took a seat on the sofa next to him. He took her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss her fingers. "It’s just all piling up, you know? The news from home, the pressure from the Colonel, trying to be what everyone expects me to be." He paused, his voice cracking slightly. "Sometimes, I feel like I’m losing myself in it all."

Angel squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I know, Elvis. I know it's tough. But you're handling it as best you can." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "Maybe this is a sign, huh? Maybe it's time to start doing things your way, to make music that speaks from your heart."

Elvis looked up, his eyes meeting hers, a flicker of hope amidst the weariness. "You really think so?" he asked, his voice a mix of vulnerability and aspiration.

"I do," Angel replied firmly. "People fell in love with Elvis Presley not just because of your voice or your moves, but because you're real. You bring something no one else can."

Elvis considered her words, letting them sink in. He set the glass down on the coffee table with a soft clink and leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe it's time to shake things up again. Like the old days. Ah, but the Colonel’s got his sights set on this Christmas special. And there’s a lot hanging on it. Contracts, commitments." His voice tapered off as the weight of the situation settled over him.

Angel reached out, her hand gently brushing his cheek. “But you've never been one to shy away from a challenge, have you?" Her words were soft but carried an undeniable truth that seemed to resonate within him.

Elvis nodded slowly, a resolve building in his eyes. "No, I haven’t," he admitted, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "And maybe that’s exactly what I need to remember." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his gaze still locked with hers.

The air in the trailer shifted subtly as if acknowledging his decision. Angel gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "And I’ll be with you every step of the way," she promised.

Elvis leaned in, his forehead resting against hers for a moment as he absorbed her support and affection. Then he pulled back slightly, a new lightness in his demeanor. "Alright then.”

*********

The last day of shooting was here and gone. Angel had packed her sketchbooks and spare fabrics. She was ready to go home and get some sleep for the night when she saw the light from Elvis's trailer flickering. She assumed he'd be sleeping. He had looked so worn out. She put her arms about herself to keep herself warm as she headed to the trailer. She carefully opened the door and let herself in. Except for the little TV, everything was pitch black. Elvis was stretched down on the sofa, still clothed in the outfit he had been wearing when he walked off the set. A tape recorder stood next to him, playing his rendition of "Here Comes Santa Claus” that the Colonel had forced him to record. The tune had been released to the public the day prior and was already generating a lot of attention. It didn't matter, however. Elvis despised it, despised having to even do it in the first place.

She approached him gently. It took him a while to realize he wasn't alone. He looked at her, his steely gaze softening and becoming kind and welcoming. Angel put her back against the wall. “Satnin…” He had informed her early on that only his mother had called him that, but she had adopted the moniker since hearing it made him happy. “Are you alright?”

“Hi, darlin’.” He glanced down, as if he was trying to think of anything to say but couldn't. He seemed deflated, fatigued by more than just filming. He reached behind him to switch off the recording, clearly sick of hearing himself sing.

“What’s goin’ on, Elvis?” Angel asked gently, sliding down next to him on the sofa. Her presence seemed to comfort him as he let out a long sigh and leaned back against the cushions.

“I don’t know, Angel. I just… I feel like I’m selling pieces of myself every time we record one of those songs, you know?” His voice was low, filled with a tired resignation that made her heart ache for him.

Angel laid her hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know it’s hard. But remember what we talked about? Doing things your way…” She trailed off, hoping he would catch onto the encouragement she was trying to offer.

Elvis turned to look at her, his eyes showing a glimmer of the fire she knew so well. “Yeah, I remember,” he murmured. “It’s just tough, Angel. The contracts, the expectations—they don’t just disappear.”

Angel laid down and curled into Elvis’s side. He placed an arm around her waist drawing her in closer and kissing her brow. His gaze shifted to the televison as he let his lips linger in her hair. On the screen, they were in the middle of broadcasting Dr. Martin Luther King's Memorial. Mahalia Jackson was singing in a manner that made the whole globe want to stop and listen.

There was silence for a bit until Elvis let out a long sigh. “I’m so tired of playin’ Elvis Presley. Sometimes I wonder if I even know who that is anymore.”

“You’ll find him again,” Angel assured him firmly, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. And you don’t have to play with me. Here, you’re just Elvis. The man, not the legend. I don’t care about the money or the fame or anythin’ else. I just want you to be happy. And I’d do anything to see that smile on your face again.”

He looked down at her, appreciation flickering in his eyes. "You always know what to say, don’t you?" He smiled wistfully and turned his attention back to the television. The solemn notes of the memorial service seemed to echo his own internal struggles. Elvis shut his eyes. He put his hand in Angel’s hair and started rubbing her head. “Just stay with me, darlin’, and I’ll smile all you want.”

“I’m right here.” She raised her head just enough to kiss him. “But Elvis…you’re only truly happy when you sing the music you love. I saw it even before I knew you.”

He didn't say anything, but his grasp on her tightened. He cracked open his eyes and returned his gaze to the television. Angel leaned against him once again. Mahalia Jackson was still singing, her voice carrying everyone's agony and sadness.

“Mahalia Jackson,” Elvis said quietly, “I used to hear her sing at East Street Church.” He pointed at the television. “That’s the music that makes me happy. Music that comes from nowhere else but the soul.” He turned up the volume on the TV so that the woman's voice filled the whole trailer.

“Then sing that music, baby. And don’t let anybody tell you you can’t.” 

Elvis fixed his gaze on the screen. His free hand reached out and interlaced their fingers. “I think it’s time to make some changes.”

Stay tuned for part 4!! Click HERE to view!

[ofstoriesandstardust]

we could leave the christmas lights up 'til janaury (b.r.b.)

a/n: this was written for a mutual who i have not spoken to in many months but is lurking around here somewhere (so if she sees this she should come say hi). this is just 2k words of fluff my dudes

summary: Rebel and Rooster finally make a home together.

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | same mistakes-verse

warnings: swearing, a good helping of MavDad, i did extensive research on property deed changes in california for no reason, one reference to sex if you squint

word count: 2.3k

“You have a tiny bed.” 

You look up from your phone to see your fiancé, who’s standing with his hands on his hips, eyeing the sight in front of him. Buddy had definitely been getting bigger and had been taking up more space on the bed than when he originally came home with you. Rooster had been a little bit grumpy about that fact, bemoaning the fact that the dog loved to wedge himself in between his parents and it meant he couldn’t cuddle with you as much, the damn koala bear. 

“It’s just so unfair.” Rooster groaned, letting his head plop down onto the top of the bar. You raise an eyebrow at him, thoroughly unimpressed. 

Hangman gave a chuckle, smirking at you over the top of his head. “Bradshaw, are you really getting jealous of a dog? Your dog?”

“Hey, he’s my dog. I’d get him in the divorce if Rooster and I were ever to get a divorce, the same way I’d get Bob in the divorce.” Coyote lets out a loud laugh at that as Hangman continues to smirk. 

“Still Bradshaw, I’d say this is a new low.”

“Shut up.” 

“You know, I could just get a bigger bed.” Rooster sighs as he sits on the wedge of bed Buddy has left for him and he raises his head, annoyed at the movement, choosing to hop off the bed. You chuckle as Rooster rolls his eyes.

“Dog’s a damn drama queen.” He mutters and you turn to him as he settles on the bed next to you, back up against the wall. 

“He gets it from you.” You whisper and he nudges you as he kicks his legs over the bed, slipping them under the covers to entangle them with yours. “So, a bigger bed? I’ve had this one forever anyways.” He hums as he wraps an arm around you, tugging you towards his chest. 

“Or...” He trails off, looking down at you.

“Or?”

“Or... well, I was thinking you could move in with me. You know, finally.” 

You shift slightly, moving to be eye level with him. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He gives you a soft smile. “Yeah?” 

You nod, humming as you place a soft kiss on his lips. “We’re getting a new bed though.” You whisper against his lips, feeling the hair of his moustache rubs against your skin.

He smirks, placing his hands on your hips to pull you onto his lap. “Oh, obviously.” 

“Yeah, and we’re getting rid of those ugly curtains in the living room. I love your Mom, but they’re ugly.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that Mav picked those out.” 

You roll your eyes.

“’Course he did.” 

-

“Why do I have so much shit?” You hiss, practically sitting on the suitcase to get it closed.

Someone laughs from your doorway, prompting you to look up. Your Dad’s there with an amused grin on his face, hands in sweatpants pockets. “I take it packing’s not going well?” 

You sigh, sliding off of the suitcase. “I’m pretty much done, I just… Why do I have all this crap Dad?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s your money.” 

“I knew I was overdue for a spring cleaning but holy shit.”

Your Dad side steps a box, sitting down at the foot of your bed. “I gotta admit kiddo, I’m a little surprised you guys have taken this long to officially move in together. You guys practically do live together as it is.”

“You saying you want me out of here?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow. 

He fixes you with a look. “I just meant that I figured you wouldn’t want your Dad around so much and might want to have your own space. You and Brad have been together for a while now.”

“So have you and Penny and the two of you don’t live together.” You point out.

He sighs, holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s only fair. But-” He says, leaning forward so his forearms are resting on his knees. “We aren’t talking about me.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know, I know I didn’t exactly grow up in this house but it’s always felt like home, you know? Didn’t want to give that up you know. I didn’t grow up here but I did grow up here in a lot of ways, especially the last few years. And I guess it was nice to know that I always had somewhere to go if shit hit the fan and you know, Bradley and I broke up. Didn’t want to sacrifice it and not have a backup plan, I guess.”

Your Dad sighs. “You’d always be welcome here, kid. I really hope you know that. Even if ten years down the road, you’d have this place as a home. That would never change.”

You sigh, standing up from the floor to join your Dad on the bed. “Dad, I know you’ve been wanting to sell this place for a while. I know Penny’s realtor friend gave you a quote on how much you could get. I know you’ve just been waiting for me to get out of here.” 

He shrugs, arms still resting on his thighs. “Gotta admit that I’ve been using you as an excuse as to why I can’t get out of the house kiddo. Maybe you’ve also been my backup plan.” 

You let out a breath, leaning back on your palms. “What a fucked up father daughter duo we make.”

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “This is actually maybe a good time to talk to you about this, kid.”

“Talk about what?”

“I’ve been thinking-“

“That’s never good.”

He shoots you a pointed look. “I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s about time Penny and I move in together as well. We’ve been dating this time around almost as long as you and Brad have.”

“Yeah? Good for you guys. You can smother Amelia now.”

He shoots you another look. “And I’ve been thinking that you know, I’m getting up there in years, and I just want to make sure everything’s squared away for when I’m gone.”

“Dad…” 

He glances at you. “How do you feel about transferring the title into your name?”

“Like… the title of the house? Like our property deed? You want to give me the house?”

He shrugs his shoulders again. “The house has always been yours. Was always gonna be yours. I left everything to you and Brad, you know. Figured we might as well get a head start on it.”

You gap at him. “Should I be worried about you? Are you feeling okay?” You reach over to press a hand to his forehead. He laughs lightly, batting your hand away. 

“I’m feeling fine. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of when I’m gone. And it would make me feel better to know that the legal and physical stuff is squared away.”

Part of you wants to make a joke about how he’s going to live forever so he shouldn’t worry and the other part of you is entirely stunned, although not surprised, your Dad has put this much thought into what would happen to you if he were to die. 

He’s been thinking about that since the day Goose-

“Dad.” You whisper. 

“You don’t have to say yes. And you can think about it of course, I know you might not want to take on this place, but-“

The sob you let out catches both you and your Dad off guard as the emotions come pouring out of you before you can stop them. He reaches over, pulling you into a hug. 

“Kiddo, it’s just a house. It’s four walls and a roof, really-”

“It’s not just a house. This was our house when I was at UCSD and this was our house when you and I were bouncing around the world and this was our house when Ice got cancer and this was our house where all my friends got to call their home too.” You say, wrapping your arms around his chest as the tears roll down your face. “I don’t wanna leave.” You whisper. 

“Kiddo…” He whispers, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

You sniff. “I mean, I do wanna live with B and Buddy but this is my home.”

He sighs. “Like I said, a house is just four walls and a roof kiddo. A house is just a house. A home is what the people inside make of it.” He squeezes you. “You made this house a home. You made it a home for me and for Brad and for all of the Daggers. I know you have so many memories here. But you’re gonna have so many more in your place with Brad. You already do have so many in that house. And now you get to move into a place where it gets to be entirely your own and you get to share it with the person you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with. Brad didn’t take putting that ring on your finger lightly.”

You sniff. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean it. Asked me for my permission and everything.”

You raise your head, looking at your Dad curiously. “Did he really?”

He laughs. “Yeah, he did. Kid was terrified I was gonna say no. He loves you so much, he really does.”

You sniff again, letting your arms fall from your Dad as you smile. 

“I know he does.”

-

Bradley groans as he lays down on the bed next to you. You quirk an eyebrow at him. 

“What are you groaning about, mister? I’m the one who did all the hard work.” 

He grins, reaching out for you. “I don’t know, I stood there and looked mighty pretty.” 

You roll your eyes as he plants his hands on your hips. “Yeah, okay.” 

He snorts, before kissing your cheek. “You know what I can’t get over?” 

“What?” 

He grins at you again, a childlike excitement on his face. “This is our house now.” 

You grin back at him. “It is, and we get to do whatever we want.” 

You both break into giggles, the excitement being too much. 

“I know you’ve pretty much lived here the last few months, but it’s nice to finally make it official, you know?” You nod as your dog hops up on to your bed, nestling in at your feet. Bradley smiles at Buddy before beginning to run his hands through your hair. “Hey, how was the last night at your place? Mav cry?” 

You shake your head. “Actually, surprisingly, I cried.”

Bradley shifts so that he can look down at you. “What? Why?” 

You shrug, watching your dog’s steady breathing. “Dunno. Was just weird I think. I grew a lot in that place.” 

He hums, his hand working on detangling a knot in your wet hair that must have formed sometime after your shower. 

“I can imagine. You’ve lived in that place since you were like 19, yeah?” 

You nod. “Yeah, and that place we had on base growing up never really felt like home. That house was the first place that had really felt like a home rather than just somewhere I slept. The closest I ever got before that was here.” 

“Funny now, how it all kind of circles back to this home.” 

You nod, thinking about this house. The weekly dinners you used to have with Ice and Carole. The memories you have from growing up playing hide-and-seek with Bradley, the movie nights Carole used to have with you when your Dad was out of town and Bradley would be out with friends. 

This house had only ever emanated love, a feeling that could be felt in its walls the minute you stepped through the door. It was a feeling you could recall across decades, even from your earliest childhood, the fuzzy memories of Goose and Mav and Carole, when that was all you had ever needed,

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you the most important part.” 

He laughs a little, chest vibrating against yours. “Oh yeah, and what is that?” 

“Dad’s moving out and giving me the house.” 

He startles, pulling back from you so that he can look you in the eyes. “What? He’s giving you the house?” 

“I guess.” 

He shakes his head, looking a little dazed. “I just figured he’d sell it.” 

You scoff. “He’s not going to get shit for that place.” 

“So are you going to sell it?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know, I haven’t totally thought about it. I guess maybe we could invest some money in it and fix it up, rent it out.” 

“Actually, that’s not a half bad idea.” 

You turn at him, offering him a small smirk. “I got good ideas sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes, pulling you back down to his chest.

It’s quiet for a minute, the only noise really being Buddy’s breathing and the fan, but you know Bradley isn’t asleep yet. 

“If only little us could see us now.” 

“You think they’d be happy with us ending up together?” He whispers back. 

“Well, I know they’d be thrilled to hear that we’re having a sleepover every night for the rest of our lives.” 

He lets out a full belly laugh at this, waking up Buddy who huffs and shifts on the bed. “Yeah, except our sleepovers are way better now.” 

You roll your eyes at him. “Shut up.”

He laughs again, before settling back down into the bed, taking in the moment.

“Hey, I have a question.” 

He hums, indicating you to ask. 

“I know Christmas is a few months away but do you think we could leave the Christmas lights up until January?” You can feel Bradley smile against your cheek. “We can do whatever you want, honey. It’s our home now.”

[geralts-yenn]

A very merry birthday

Modern AU Melot (Tristan & Isolde) x OFC Nina x Mike (Hellraiser)

summary: The boys are celebrating Christmas and, more importantly, Nina's birthday

warnings: 18+, minors DNI! Polyamory, non-monogamous bisexual relationship, vaginal fingering, oral (f & m receiving), sex toys, tiny hint of food play, facial, DVP, tooth rotting fluff

word count: 4,4k

A/N: @raccoon-eyed-rebel the happiest of birthdays to you, my wonderful rodent bestie!

I will send you more messages telling you how incredibly happy I am to have you in my life, but right now, I will stop talking because I know you can't wait to read this.

I hope you enjoy your presents - Love you 😘

My masterlist

Series masterlist

“Morning, sunshine!” Mel was slowly kissing down your throat as soon as he saw you blinking. On the other side of the bed, Mike’s curly head appeared, and he was clutching to you like a koala the next moment. 

“Happy birthday, babe” he told you, his head already buried in your cleavage. 

You laughed, not exactly surprised by the attack of your two boyfriends. They were always touchy, so you expected no less from them on your birthday. 

In no time, they had you not only naked, but also quivering in anticipation as they both moved their mouths way too slowly down your body. Mike was still paying attention to your chest, nothing to complain about to be honest, while Mel was already nipping and biting on the tender skin over your hip bone. Under wet kisses he resumed his trail that finally brought his mouth to your pussy. As his tongue lapped through your wet folds, he let out a content growl. 

“Come here, Mikey, she’s already dripping!” he purred before he pressed his flattened tongue on your clit again. Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He bit down one last time on your nipple, making you scream, and then pushed Mel to the side so he could taste you, too. 

Mike’s tongue swirled around your swollen pearl eagerly, while you felt Mel’s fingers carefully circling your entrance. The coarse stubble on Mel’s jaw scratched over the delicate skin of your thigh as he started to suck little love bites on it. 

They had learned to play you like a fiddle, taking turns with their mouths on your clit, on your inner thighs and their fingers pumping into you. You were a total mess, breathing heavily as you expected your climax to rush through your body any moment, when suddenly there was no mouth left between your legs, and you only felt fingers plunging into you lazily.

As you raised your head, you couldn’t help but laugh, seeing Mel and Mike both totally lost in the deep kiss they shared. You grabbed a pillow and smacked them with it.

“Hey, idiots, it’s my birthday, don’t you forget to make me cum, please?” They chuckled as they stopped kissing, both showing you a cocky grin. 

“Babe, I’m pretty sure you’ll be content with the amount of orgasms at the end of this day,” Mel told you, mischief in his voice. Mike’s laugh that accompanied Mel’s words told you that they had made plans for you today. 

They were both starting to kiss along your thighs again, but you were impatient by now.

“You know, there’s two dicks in this bed and none of them is in my pussy. Can we please change this situation?” you all but whined. 

“Nope!” Mike exclaimed, flicking his tongue over your clit as to make a point. He sucked it between his lips while Mel continued his sentence: “No dick for you. Not yet. But we’ll make up for it.” 

And they did! They were determined to fuck you to the moon and back on their fingers and tongues, making you cum not only once but three times before you had to stop them. 

“Okay, okay, guys, you won. I can’t take any more,” you shouted, pulling on their hair to bring their faces up to yours. You shared deep kisses with both of them before you sank back onto the bed, one of your boys in each arm.

When you got out of the shower, the whole apartment was filled with the scent of pancakes and coffee. Mike was standing at the stove in nothing but his boxers and an apron. Mel sat at the table, smiling at you with so much love, your heart was just about to burst. You sat down, and the next moment Mike was behind you, placing a ridiculously big pile of pancakes onto your plate. He took the syrup and flooded your pancake tower with it. But, as was to be expected, it was Mike after all, he didn’t stop there, but poured it also over your chest, just above the towel you had wrapped around you.

“Mike! I just came out of the shower, you can’t make a mess of me again!” you laughed and Mel added: “And don’t you remember your own words? Don’t overdo things for food play!” Mike just shrugged with a silly smile on his face and lapped the syrup from your skin. 

After you had finished your breakfast with definitely way too much pancakes, Mike got up and took two presents from under the Christmas tree. He put them down in front of you with a big smile. “Happy birthday, sweetcheeks.” Mel pressed a kiss onto your cheek. “From both of us,” he added. 

You eyed the presents that were unmistakably wrapped by the boys, so much you could tell. One was only a small box, the other one a huge, formless mass that covered most of the dining table. “Which one is from whom?” you asked, just out of curiosity, but the boys shook their heads. 

“We bought them both together. For whenever we can't be with you and you feel lonely.” Mel and Mike shared a mischievous glance that you didn't miss. Now you were even more curious.

You started with the giant present, carefully undoing the tape, trying to save the cute wrapping paper with tiny cats printed on it. 

When you lifted the paper and saw what was underneath it, you squeaked. You grabbed the giant platypus plushie and hugged both your arms around it. “Ah, I love him,” you said. Mel and Mike both chuckled as they watched you. It took you a minute of jumping in joy with the plushie in your arm, planting kisses on Mel's and Mike's cheeks until you were back at the table, your eyes and hands on the second present. 

“You better not spent money on expensive jewelry,” you blurted out, only to see Mel blushing a little. But then you unwrapped the present and sniggered. You couldn't have been more wrong. The box you held in your hands showed a bright pink bullet vibrator. 

“It's app controlled,” Mikey said with a smug smile on his face. “The only one we found that can be controlled by multiple users at the same time.” 

You laughed as you opened the box. “Of course it is.” 

Mel's smile was just as broad as Mikey’s. “And we’ve already charged it.”

The boys and you had decided to unwrap your Christmas presents in the evening, when your family was joining you for dinner. Also, Mel and Mikey insisted that you weren't allowed to help them prepare the food, so you spent your day snuggled up to your new friend Pablo with a book in your hand. It was a calm and uneventful day that was only interrupted from time to time when the bullet vibrator in your pussy started to buzz, accompanied by laughter coming from the kitchen. 

At one point, you couldn't stand it any more. You got up from your comfy spot, your birthday present still pulsating in you, and pushed the half closed door to the kitchen open.

Maybe you should have been prepared for more teasing, though this time you really couldn’t blame them as they were not even noticing your presence. With your mouth hanging open, you watched Mike pressing Mel against the wall. He pinned his boyfriend’s arms above their heads. Mel answered with a growl and then they both shared a hot kiss.

A hitched breath later you were able to speak: “Really, guys, you’re riling me up to a point where I will snap. You have to give me a little something.”  Mikey’s lips never left Mel, but his hand guided you to join them. You moved forward and when you were standing next to them, Mike finally pulled away from Mel’s mouth and pressed his soft lips against yours instead. 

Mel cocked his head while he watched you. Then his eyes fell on the clock of the oven. “We’ve got fifteen minutes,” he told you. Within no time, the three of you had made it into the bedroom, hands and mouths exploring whatever bit of skin they could find. But when your hand tried to sneak into Mel’s pants, he tsk-tsked you and pulled your hand up to his chest again.

“Really? Still no dicks allowed? Come on, guys! That’s no fun. Let me at least give you some head.” You don’t think you had ever begged for a blow job, but there you were, kneeling between your boyfriends, pouting, trying to imitate their puppy eyes. And it seemed to work!

Mel and Mike shared looks that couldn’t hide how much they liked the idea of your mouth around their cocks. 

They both dropped their sweatpants within seconds, a broad smile on their faces. That smiles faded when your tongue darted out to lick over the tip of their cocks. When you looked up at them, you saw Mike biting his lower lip, while Mel’s face changed into an almost pained expression. Your hands and mouth started to work on their cocks, making it all sloppy, like they loved it. You watched them kiss while you tried your best to fit your lips around both their swollen heads. The toy continued to vibrate inside you relentlessly, making you moan desperately around their cocks.

Soon you felt, you heard, that they were close. Mel pulled out of your mouth so you were free to take Mike’s dick all down your throat. Instead, Mel fisted himself, his eyes full of lust as he watched you swallowing Mike’s cock. “Damn, baby, you’re beautiful!” he breathed and, almost coming out as a whimper, he warned you to close your eyes.

You had only a second to react before Mel’s cum hit your face, dripping over your cheeks and the lips stretched around Mike. And the sight of you must have taken Mike over the edge, too, because he exploded down your throat the very next moment. When he pulled out of your mouth, his thumb brushed over your cum-soiled face. “Fuck, babe, look at you!”

After they had cleaned your face and another orgasm on their tongues later, they finally stopped teasing you. They got back to cooking while you started to prepare the dining table. Placing plates and glasses for eight people wasn’t easy on the small table and with eight chairs, the room was more than crowded. This whole apartment wasn’t exactly made to host that many guests, but you’d live. It might be cozy, you thought as you lit the candles. 

Perfectly timed, all of you had changed into more festive clothing (which meant ‘beautiful dress’ for you and apparently ‘ridiculous x-mas sweater’ for the boys) when the bell rang for the first time. It was your parents, holding out presents and a bottle of wine for you to take. Mel and Mike were both acting like the perfect gentlemen, taking their coats while your parents were sharing hugs and congratulations with you.

The bell rang another time and with Isa, Tristan and Mel’s mom Catherine, your round was complete now. Isa pulled you in her arms as if she wanted to crush you, showering you with birthday wishes. In the corner of your eyes, you watched as Catherine pulled Mel close to her, handing him a small present and them sharing a loving look with each other. You were glad that Mel had Catherine, she was wonderful, he couldn’t have found a better foster family. The thought brought you back to Mike, and you searched for him, a little concerned. With relief, you saw how Tristan was talking to him, and whatever he had said, it made Mike laugh. He’d be okay.

The boys had outdone themselves with dinner, you knew they weren’t exactly helpless in the kitchen, but they honestly impressed you with the meal they had prepared.

Even your dad didn’t complain about the lack of meat, you noticed, as he served himself a third round of garlic mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy.

After dinner, you moved to the living room and everyone started exchanging presents. You were occupied for quite some time with birthday and Christmas presents to be opened. When you finally made it to the last one, you smiled at the pile of presents in front of you. They really knew you well, you thought, as you admired all the wonderful things you got. There was hand-dyed yarn for your crochet and knitting projects, a book you had been eying for a while already, and annual tickets to the zoo for all three of you.

You let your eyes wander through the room, it was pure bliss to see how everyone seemed to be just so happy. Mel and your Dad were standing in the corner at Mel’s record player, scanning through his collection that got some new additions today.  Mike was already working with his new artist pencils.

Your mom sat down beside him, curiously peering over his shoulder. “You’re talented, Mike. This is beautiful.” Mike thanked her, giving her a small smile, before his eyes met yours for a second and you saw them lighting up. Then he went back to drawing. Your mom continued chatting with him and you watched them, happy that your parents were comfortable with both your boyfriends. But then your mom changed to the topic that you had dreaded the whole evening. You should have given her a head start not to mention it. 

“So, where are your parents today, Michael, aren’t they going to see you?” Mike’s smile froze to a grimace. You saw him swallow before he answered.

“They are staying with my brother.” You already saw your mom open her mouth for a follow-up question when Catherine sat down beside her. She was quick to engage your mom in a conversation, saving Mike. You gave her a thankful look and crouched down next to Mike, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a gentle kiss on his neck.

Isa and Tristan were the last ones to leave. And while Tristan was still in the kitchen with the boys who had already started to take care of the dishes, Isa was with you in the hallway. 

“It was a wonderful evening, Nina! It’s so good to see you three so happy. I mean, just look at you, you are glowing! I’m pretty sure they took good care of you already today, huh?” She laughed at your reddening face. “I knew it! Guess they are not done with you yet.” She raised her voice: “Tristan, come on, let’s leave those three alone now. They still have some plans for today!” You smacked Isa on her arm, making her laugh only more. Tristan, Mel and Mikey all appeared next to you, and the mischievous smirks on their faces told you they were talking about the same thing.

You sent Tristan and Isa home with hugs and thank you’s. And as soon as they had left, Mel and Mike dragged you to the bedroom. “So you DO have some more plans today, don’t you?” you laughed. 

“We absolutely do!” Mike grinned at Mel, who already had his hand on the zipper of your dress. “If you’re not too tired, that is,” he added. How could they be so incredibly sweet? You had no idea how you deserved them. 

“How could I be tired after you didn’t let me help you all day? Wait, so this was your plan all along.” All three of you chuckled. Would you be mad at them that they let you rest only to be able to fuck you to oblivion? Surely not. That was a double win, wasn’t it?

Mel had already thrown your dress into a corner of the room. You were happy that you were finally able to take off those ugly sweaters from both of them and send them the same way. The naked chests now hovering over your sides were so much better to look at. Very unusual for Mike, he didn’t immediately get rid of your bra. Instead, he moved back a little to be able to fully take you in. So the unholy amount of money you had spent on that lingerie was actually worth it this time. 

“Damn, babe, your tits look fabulous in this.” Mike brushed his fingers slowly over the delicate fabric. Something that you absolutely weren’t used from him. “I mean, your tits are always fabulous. But I have to honor the packaging today.” Mel leaned down and hummed in your ear. “He’s right! You are gorgeous.” He nipped at your earlobe, making you squirm. “Nevertheless, it has to go now.” Mike unclasped your bra with one swift motion, while Mel moved down on you to pull your panties down your thighs. They stayed in their favorite positions, Mikey sucking on one of your nipples while grabbing your other boob, Mel spreading kisses along your thigh until he was hovering over your throbbing pussy. 

When Mel’s tongue flicked over your clit, you moaned and Mel hummed appreciatively in response. His mouth pressed against you, he continued his task to make you cum on his face. There were fingers circling around your entrance. You had no idea whose hand it was, and you really didn’t care. All you could care for was how those fingers slipped inside of you and teased you at all the right spots. You looked down on two pairs of eyes, watching through thick eyelashes how you slowly lost your mind. Another hand on your pussy, more fingers pumping into you, made you a quivering mess. Not able to form a straight thought anymore, you were just moaning, cursing and screaming, your whole body tense, ready to snap. A perfect timed flick of a tongue over your pearl brought you over the edge. With trembling legs, you lay there and smiled at your boyfriends.

“I think she should be ready now,” Mike said with a cocky grin on his face. Mel shook his head, sporting a smirk just as smug. “I don’t know. I think we’ll drag out another one from her, just to be sure.” With his tongue darting out to your oversensitive clit again, he was showing you what he’d meant. 

“What are you jerks talking about?” You could hardly breathe as the boys showed no mercy with you. They refused to answer you until their fingers had brought you to another climax. After that, Mike pressed little kisses all over your body until he stopped at your ear, whispering: “You will finally get some dick. Two dicks, to be precise.”

Mel and Mike both stepped out of their pants and underwear. Mike leaned against the headboard, stroking his cock. “Come here, baby!” he told you. You wanted to straddle him, but Mike guided you to turn around, resting your back against his chest. Slowly, you sank down on his cock. Your pussy was so sensitive by now that this alone already was enough to roll your eyes in pleasure. He felt so good, spreading you open. When Mike was buried to the hilt in you, Mel crawled between your widespread legs, his leaking cock in his fist. He bent down, pressing a fierce kiss on your lips, then repeating the same hot kiss with Mike. He aligned himself at your already filled hole and slowly pressed himself into you, inch by inch.

“Fuck!” both men exclaimed in unison. You weren’t able to form any word, so you were just whimpering desperately. Mike moved his hands from your thighs to your breasts. You felt his chest heaving rapidly. Mel finally bottomed out and for a second there was no movement or sound. Then Mel gave you a crooked grin, said, “Happy Birthday, princess!” and started to fuck you. 

Mike cursed and then started pushing his hips up to you, too. There were two cocks thrusting into you, making you feel sensations that you hadn’t known before. The boys were seemingly just as overwhelmed as you. As Mel moved, Mike was holding back and the other way around. “Fuck, this feels pretty amazing!” Mel shouted and Mike agreed. “So fucking hot!” 

All three of you were reduced to panting, moaning, screaming and sharing sloppy kisses with each other. After some time that both of them kept a slow rhythm, Mel cursed and then started to rut into you mercilessly.

But Mike was the first who couldn’t hold back anymore. He increased his own pace, and with a barrage of curses, he spilled his load into you. His grip on your boobs became so tight that he’d probably leave bruises. 

You were following him soon after, tears rolling down your cheeks as your orgasm washed over you. While you collapsed on Mikey’s chest, Mel kept thrusting into your fluttering walls. He was clutching your shoulders, his gasps brushing along your neck until he finally found his own climax. Mike held him as his legs and arms didn’t support him any longer. None of you were able or willing to speak or move. You just lay on top of each other and gasped for air. 

It was minutes later when Mel rolled to the side. You protested as soon as the comforting weight of him had left you. But he immediately pulled you back into his arms so that you were trapped between his and Mikey’s body, just the way you loved it. Mel brushed a streak of hair from your face and kissed you softly. “Are you okay?” he asked. You nodded, your mouth forming to a smile. “You really ruined me today, but damn was it good.” Mel and Mike both chuckled.

“And you, felt good?” Mel checked on Mike, too. You had to turn your head because you just knew the smile spread over Mikey’s face must be worth seeing, and you were right. He looked just like the most adorable little happy puppy ever.

“This must have been the best fucking thing I ever felt.”

You spent a long time cuddling with the boys, interrupted only by the inevitable bathroom break. With a sigh, you slipped back under the covers to them. Your head resting on Mikey’s chest, Mel spooning you from behind, your eyes fell onto the gift box that lay on the floor next to Mel’s pants. 

“Hey Mel, you haven't opened the gift from your mom yet.” You had totally forgotten to ask him about it earlier.

Mel’s head shot up. “Oh, right, that one!” He seemed to be flustered, making you even more curious. “No, that's actually for the both of you. My mom just kept it for me.”

 Mike seemed to pick up on Mel’s agitation, too, tilting his head as he watched his boyfriend. Mel got up and seized the small box from the floor. “Well, that's not how I’ve planned this, we all lying around naked.” He shook his head laughing.  “But I guess that's just how we do such things.” Mel knelt between Mike and you and held the box out for you to take.

Mike and you looked at each other, both puzzled. You were definitely not expecting another present, and neither was Mikey. 

You had opened so many gifts already today, so you asked Mikey to open this one. Mike took it and shredded the beautiful teal wrapping paper with the little silver stars to tiny pieces. When your look fell onto the navy velvet box, both Mike and you stared at Mel in surprise. Mel’s ears reddened, but he gave you a shy smile and nodded for you to open it. Mike and you both placed a hand each on the lid and opened it at the same time. While you squeaked, Mike let out a stunned huff.

“Mel!” Mikey and you shouted his name in unison. But while you couldn’t say anything else, Mike kept talking. “You can’t be serious? This is gorgeous.” 

Mel inhaled deeply and then took out the first ring. The one with the sun. He took your hand in his and slipped the ring on your finger. Then he bent forward and kissed you.

The one with tiny blue stars he took out next. With his free hand, he cupped Mikey’s cheek. You noticed Mikey clearly fighting with tears as Mel kissed him. When Mel pulled back, he took Mikey’s hand and fitted the ring on his digit. 

You held the box still in your hands with one last ring in it, showing a moon. With an incredible feeling of love filling your chest, you watched Mel for a long moment. Then Mike laced his fingers with yours. Together, you took the last ring and put it on Mel's finger.

Now both Mikey and you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They were streaming down your faces as you took Mel into your arms, sharing kisses and loving words. 

It took you a while to find your voice again to speak. “Oh, Mel. They are so beautiful. Thank you.” You looked down lovingly at the three hands holding onto each other, one ring on each of them. 

Suddenly, Mikey’s hand shot up to his mouth. “Wait, is this a proposal or something like that? - I mean, it’s not possible… but..” There were so many emotions flashing over his face.

Mel’s eyes got wide. “ No, …uhm, …or.. maybe? I mean… I know I really want to spend my life with you guys.” Your heart was almost bursting in your chest as you heard him speaking. He was right. You wanted nothing more than this.

“That's what I want too.” you whispered, taking one of their hands in each of yours. 

Now Mel’s and your eyes were on Mikey. He was shaking his head, making you panic for a tiny moment, until you saw the love in his eyes. “ I can't imagine a life without you two, either.” 

Mel pulled Mikey and you into his arms and pressed kisses onto your cheeks. “Then let’s say these rings are a promise.”

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: to boost morale, hera lets her crew pick out a treat when they make supply runs. as a former streetrat, ezra's used to going without food, and rather than pick up another box of crackers he won't eat, ezra decides on a much better plan for his treats. word count: 1.4k a/n: two of the best parts of christmas are giving gifts and eating cookies, so i decided to polish up this discord message i sent to @laughingphoenixleader and turn it into a fic to keep us in the holiday spirit this december! shoutout to the hilarious and encouraging @kanerallels for betaing! taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @kanerallels @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse @dootchster @lucasbridger @redroverrider @light-umbra @commander-tech @jedimandalorian {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

The Molasses Mission

 Captain Syndulla recognizes that her crew isn't just soldiers or rebels or heroes. They're survivors. They're kids who had to grow up so fast, they never got the chance to be kids— and the youngest of them were kids even still.

 So she tries to find ways to let them have fun while still sticking it to the Empire, and one of them is to boost morale by letting them get treats. They don't get them very often, but sometimes, after a big mission, the ones that are hardest to complete but come with the most payoff, she lets them each pick one snack on the next supply run, a snack to be their own personal snack, one they don't have to share with anyone.

🍪•🍪•🍪

 Ezra Bridger grew up on the streets, and when you grow up on the streets, you don't refuse an offer for food— free food, all yours, something you wouldn't normally get yourself— so naturally Ezra's initially very excited when asked if he'd like a special treat on this week's supply run.

 The problem he runs into is when you grow up on the streets, and suddenly you find yourself with a crew that may as well be family, and as such cares about your health and general wellbeing, they're insistent on things like "eating at least two meals a day, if not three" and that's two more meals, if not three, than you were ever guaranteed on the streets. As such, Ezra's not really all that hungry these days. 

 So, the first few times this happens, he's ecstatic over his own personal snack, but pretty soon he realizes he's without the time to eat them, or he'll save them for a "special occasion" that just never comes, or he's just not even hungry, and he starts to feel bad that he's not eating them.

 That's when he gets an idea.

🍪•🍪•🍪

 Chopper doesn't like doing supply runs as is, but he especially doesn't like when Hera sends him with Ezra. The kid's constantly asking him what's on the list, he stops to chit-chat with all the merchants, and his haggling skills are not as great as he thinks. This would be so much faster if Hera would send him by himself— but, of course, the way this galaxy is run, an astromech can't make a supply run themselves, and once again he's forced to rely on these stupid organics.

 He protests when Ezra grabs a second box of Molasses Cookies. Today's supply run includes treats, but Sabine is the only member of the crew who eats them.

"One of the boxes is for me," Ezra explains, but Chopper protests. His memory banks aren't that erratic, and he distinctly remembers Ezra's vocal dislike of the cookies that "ought to be sweet instead of tasting like dirt" and "are too dry" and "should come with a warning label before being jam-packed with that many nuts."

 But, Ezra insists that that's his treat for the week, and frankly, Chopper couldn't care less. It was one less thing to have to track down here, and maybe Ezra's tastes have just changed.

 Organics could be weird like that.

🍪•🍪•🍪

Sabine had always been very protective of personal property. She didn't want anyone touching her weapons, her paints, or her food.

 Especially her food.

 Especially her molasses cookies. Everyone on The Ghost knew to stay more than a parsec away from her molasses cookies.

 Even still, she counted them every time she grabbed one out of the pack. If someone had taken one, it'd be a nice chance to let out the pent-up anger she had at the mere thought of someone eating her cookies.

 Which is why it was weird that, over the last week, every time she'd counted, she'd had exactly seven cookies left, despite eating one each time. At first, she thought she just miscounted, but soon she realized that, no, her cookies were somehow never running empty.

 She didn't ask questions— don't look a gift strill in the mouth, right?— even after she opened the box one day and found eight cookies. What could she possibly ask, anyways? "Who's been giving me more cookies?" Like some kind of crazy person? There was a war going on, she had more important things to worry about than how something good was happening to her for a change.

🍪•🍪•🍪

 It may as well just be a regular part of his Jedi practice now. Always staying on the alert for when Sabine was eating one of her cookies. Training himself to wake up in the middle of the night. Sneaking out of his room and into the galley with a cookie from his secret stash. Placing the cookie and getting back to his room. And the most important step, watching Sabine's reaction the next time she went for a cookie and found the same amount left.

 But what did not feel like a regular part of his training was what happened this time: finishing the job, turning around, and seeing Sabine sitting at the table, watching him.

 "SABINE!?" Ezra exclaimed, backing up against the counter behind him by instinct, then remembering the stealth part of these missions and lowering his tone, "it's not what it looks like! I mean maybe it is what it looks like, if it looks like what it is, but, uh... what are you doing, anyway? Do you normally wait up in the galley to scare unsuspecting spectres? Huh, that was fun to say."

 "Let's just say my curiosity got the better of me." Sabine stood up and walked over to him, "After all, what is it they say back on Lothal? 'Curiosity catches the Loth Cat?' And it looks like," she pointed an accusatory finger at Ezra, poking him in the chest as she stepped forward, "that's exactly what I just caught."

 "Uh," Ezra said, and even though he thought Sabine might be a little upset, he also noticed how lovely she looked in the low lighting of the galley, which actually made him all the more nervous, "technically, I think the phrase is curiosity killed the Loth Cat. You're not, uh, planning to...."

 "Of course not," Sabine said, and there was a bit of a laugh in her tone, "I just wanted to know."

 "Well," Ezra shrugged, "now you know."

 "No," Sabine said, "I know who, not why. What's your angle?"

 "Angle?" Ezra asked.

 "Was this an attempt to bribe me or something?" Sabine asked.

 "If I wanted to bribe you," Ezra asked, "don't you think I would've let you know it was me?"

 Sabine nodded. "Not even you are that stupid."

 "Right," Ezra said, "I just. I'm still trying to finish my second box of Loth-Crackers, so on the last supply run, I grabbed a box of cookies instead, and gave myself this secret mission to sneak them in here— Jedi practice, that's all."

 "That's all?"

 "Yeah," Ezra's feet shuffled, "That, and I noticed how happy you always are over something as small as cookies, and I, I don't know. It's the only time you smile unless something's blowing up, and I, I don't know…."

 As he'd been talking, Sabine had turned and stood next to him, leaning against the same countertop. He turned to look at her, and noticed a bittersweet expression, and thought it might be wise to stop talking and start listening. After a moment, his listening finally paid off, and Sabine spoke up.

 "Uj'alayi."

 "What?"

 "Uj'alayi," she crossed her arms, though not gruffly, "one of my favorite cakes. When I was little, my dad would make it for us for special occasions. I haven't had it since before...."

 Sabine shook her head, and Ezra nodded for her to continue.

 "It's a secret Mandalorian recipe," she explained, "those molasses cookies don't hold a candle to it, but it's the closest you can get when you're... when you don't know the recipe. Taking a bite of one is like...." she smiled a little and shook her head again.

 Sabine had never said this much to him in one conversation, but Ezra didn't want her to stop. He wanted to keep hearing more about her, getting to know her more, but realized she'd closed herself off again, and respected that.

 "That's," Ezra shrugged, "thank you for sharing."

 "Thank you," Sabine said.

 Much to Ezra's surprise, she wrapped an arm around him in a hug, so quick it was done and over before Ezra even realized it's happened, though he could still feel its lingering warmth, even as she said goodnight and left the galley.

 Ezra watched the smile on her face as long as he could as she left, then smiled to himself in return as he tucked her box of cookies back where they belonged in the pantry and whispered, "best mission ever."

🍪•🍪•🍪

[poledancingdinos]

Soundtrack of Debauchery - Part 2

Pairing: Young!Syverson X OFC (Jessie) X Mike (Hellraiser)

Word Count: 11 591 words

Warnings: SMUT, Alcohol, Drug Use, Oral Sex (M and F receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Sex Toys, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Threesome (F/M/M), Difficult Family Dynamics

Taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper

A/N: I am so excited about this. I didn't think I would write something longer than the first part but I had a lot more to say about these three.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

Mikey was practically vibrating. He hadn’t seen Jessie in a month because of finals and he was going a little insane. All he wanted was to enjoy his three weeks of Christmas vacation in the company of his favorite girl.

Sy had gone back to base as usual and neither Mike nor Jessie had seen him since July. If things worked out, however, he would make it to Georgia during the week after Christmas. Mike and his mother had also been invited to spend their vacation with his aunt and uncle.

Apparently his mother had mentioned to them that she suspected Mike had a girlfriend because they had extended the invitation to Jessie without even knowing if he was really seeing anyone. He hadn’t mentioned it to her yet but he was planning to. He just didn’t know how to ask Jessie to spend her reunion with Sy with the parents of the two men who were secretly dating her at the same time.

It would do Jessie some good to spend some alone time with Sy. She was worried that maybe the chemistry they’d felt at the festival had been purely physical and that things would be different once they’d spent some time together outside of the excitement of it all. Well, she was mostly worried Sy wouldn’t feel the same. She was clearly crushing hard on Mike’s older cousin.

Mike and Jessie had both kept in touch with Sy while he was away. He would never admit it but Mike missed having his cousin around. Sy was the one person who had always stuck by his side no matter how badly he fucked up.

Mike’s mother was flying straight to Georgia but he was going to drive to Jessie’s first. If she agreed to go with him, then his plan was for them to do the last part of the drive together. The three of them still lived in three different states but at least Baltimore was on the way to Georgia. Actually, if Mike and Jessie spent a bit of time alone first, they could pick up Sy at his base and the three of them could drive to Georgia together for New Years. He liked that idea.

Jessie lived with Mel, Keith, Brody and Tom, who he had seen at the festival, in a three bedroom apartment off campus. It was a tight fit when he was around for the weekend but it was better than a tiny dorm room with a narrow single bed.

When Jessie buzzed him into the building, he ran up the steps two at a time until he reached her floor. She was waiting for him in the doorway and it was the sweetest sight he had ever seen.

Jessie had apparently gotten dressed up in anticipation of his arrival. Maybe dressed up wasn’t the right word. She was only wearing a sexy little apron and a babydoll.

“The guys better not be home. I don’t have the ability to fight for your honor the way Sy would.”

Jessie giggled, letting Mike walk her backwards into the apartment before shutting the door.

“Just you and me,” her hands slid up his leather covered arms and shoulders before tangling in the soft strands of his shaggy hair. She pulled him down to meet her lips in a hungry greeting.

“I don’t mean to fuck up your meal, Sweetcheeks,” he whispered as he kissed down her jaw, “but with you looking like this, I don’t think I can wait.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that I just put supper in the oven on a ninety minute timer.”

“Fuck, you are brilliant. You truly do think of everything.”

Feeling confident that he wouldn’t incur Jessie’s wrath for ruining the meal she worked so hard on, Mike grabbed her ass and lifted Jessie up.

“You look so fucking sexy, Babe. Will you let me take a picture?”

Jessie didn’t need to look up to know that they were heading to her bedroom. She had been the one to request the no sex in the common areas rule, it would be hypocritical of her to ignore it at the first opportunity.

“You wanna photograph me like one of your French girls, Mikey?”

She was gently deposited on the mattress and she stretched out. Mike took a step back, pulling his cell from his pocket. 

“I want Sy to know what’s waiting for him if he makes it home during break.”

It was the first time Jessie was hearing about Sy possibly coming home but it immediately got her attention.

“I’ll give the details later, but Sy might get some leave time. You want to help motivate him to suck up to whoever is in charge?”

Jessie bit her lip, looking up at Mike through a hooded gaze. “What do I need to do?”

Mike unlocked his phone, pointing the camera at the gorgeous woman in front of him. “Just keep looking like sex on legs and you’ll have Sy going AWOL in no time.”

He snapped a few pictures, acting like he was putting into practice everything he’d learned in his elective photography class.

“Okay, now get on your knees and lose the apron.”

Jessie moved like a feline tracking its prey, crawling to the edge of the bed where she held herself up on her knees. Her eyes never left Mikey’s as she untied the apron behind her back then around her neck, letting it fall to the floor.

Mike groaned, filming without really looking at what he was doing. Why would he look at the screen when the real thing was only a few feet away?

“Look at you all wrapped up like the perfect Christmas gift. Anything you wanna say to Sy, Sweetcheeks?”

“I miss you,” she spoke into the lens, “I’d be really happy to see you but I’ll wait for you if you can’t come home yet.”

Mike gave Jessie a fond smile before quickly sending Sy a few of the pictures and the short video with strict instructions to look at everything once he was alone. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it over the desk chair and putting his phone in the pocket.

“Just you and me now, Sweetcheeks,” he said, facing Jessie again. “Did you miss me too?”

“Fishing for a compliment, Mikey?”.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, bridging the gap between them. His hands traveled over her ass and thighs, holding her tight against him. She, in turn, wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I missed you, Mikey,” she said earnestly. “Want me to show you how much?”

Mikey nodded eagerly, letting Jessie pull away. While she worked on getting his pants off, Mike pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. Jessie lowered herself down onto her stomach, licking her lips as she admired Mike’s cock which stood hard and proud against the light happy trail on his stomach.

She began by placing kisses up Mike’s inner thigh. She loved to tease him with how sensitive and responsive he was. He released a shuddering breath when she finally wrapped her luscious lips around the head of his dick.

Mike brushed the back of his fingers down Jessie’s cheek almost reverently as she worked her magic on his length. He couldn’t get over how gorgeous she was. Her pert ass was peeking out from below this sheer fabric of her babydoll, giving him visions of all the filthy things he wanted to do to it over their upcoming time together.

Jessie had one hand wrapped around his shaft, moving in time with her mouth but suddenly she snuck it between his legs and teased his balls.

“Oh fuck, do that again,” Mike gasped, tangling his fingers through Jessie’s hair.

Lost in the feeling, Mike’s hips moved almost of their own accord, thrusting forward and taking over the pace. He had just enough awareness left in him to drag her off his dick before he came down her throat.

“As much as I love that wicked mouth of Sweetcheeks, I’m not gonna make it much longer if you keep going.”

Jessie pushed her bottom lip out, making her displeasure known with an innocent little pout.

“Aw, don’t be like that, gorgeous, you’re gonna like what happens next.”

Mike leaned over, pulling open the bottom drawer of Jessie’s bedside table. He knew exactly what he was looking for and where to find it.

“Get on your knees. Face down, sweet cheeks up.”

The smirk came back to her lips and Jessie turned around, presenting her ass to Mikey with an enticing wiggle. She yelped when Mikey placed a sharp spank on her lace covered flesh. The fancy panties that she’d bought just for this occasion were soaked, leaving a dark patch on the powder pink fabric. Jessie could feel the wetness smearing on her inner thighs as Mikey slowly dragged them off.

“Which color do you want?”

“Red.”

Mike’s warm fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh until it reached her waiting core. He pushed two fingers inside and Jessie immediately clenched around them.

“Are you sure?” He was a little surprised by her answer and he needed to be certain that she wasn’t just saying what she thought he wanted to hear.

“Yes.”

Pulling his fingers from her wet heat, Mike slid up to Jessie’s puckered hole. With gentle pressure, he circled the tight ring of muscle, coating her in her juices. The bottle of lube clicked open and the coolness of the gel was added to the mix of sensations.

With his free hand, Mike worked open the felt pouch that contained the metal butt plug. It came in a set, each one having a different colored jewel on the end. He and Jessie had been using them for a few months. It had been her idea. She wanted to be able to take both Mike and Sy at the same time.

It would be their first time trying out the one with the red jewel. It was the biggest one of the set but at its thickest point was still not as wide as either man’s sizeable girth.

“Ready?”

Jessie folded her arms under her cheek, finding Mikey’s gaze over her shoulder.

“Ready,” she confirmed.

Mike started with one finger, easily slipping in with the abundant lube. He continued to work her open until he was able to add a second finger. Wanting to ensure the least amount of discomfort possible, Mike dipped the plug into her core, getting it nice and slick before adding more lube to the smooth metal.

“Breathe for me, Sweetcheeks.”

Jessie obeyed, taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it out. Mike withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the tapered tip of the plug. She clenched unintentionally from the contrast of the cool metal and she had to concentrate on relaxing her body.

With carefully controlled pressure, Mikey began to sink the plug into Jessie’s opening. She pressed back against it, helping him along.

When he began to feel more resistance, Mike paused, stroking a hand soothingly up and down Jessie’s back.

“You’re doing fucking amazing, keep breathing for me.”

He moved the plug out then back in again, slowly working more of it in with each thrust. Jessie’s whole body jerked a little when the last of the plug sank in but the sting faded quickly as the heavy plug settled within her.

“Sorry.” Mike quickly cleaned his fingers with a wet wipe. “Does it feel okay?” he asked, blanketing her body with his and placing gentle kisses across her shoulders and nape.

Jessie’s eyes fluttered open, her breath coming in pants. She tested the sensation by moving her hips against Mike’s pulsing manhood.

“Yes.” It felt more than okay though she didn’t quite know how to put it into words.

Mike wrapped an arm around her front, helping her upright. His hands were everywhere, roughly groping at her tits and thighs until Jessie snapped and pulled him down onto the bed.

She mounted him, rubbing her dripping folds over his shaft as she captured his lips in a feverish kiss. Her soft hand wrapped around the base and she was about to sink down on him when Mike’s panicked hands found her hips.

“Hold on, Sweetcheeks, still need to get a condom.”

Jessie’s eyes went wide, realizing what she’d been about to do.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

The box of condoms Mike had bought the last time he visited was already on the bed next to the lube. With the protection situation quickly rectified, Jessie finally impaled herself on Mike’s gorgeous cock.

“Jesus, I can feel the plug rubbing against me from inside.”

It was a good thing the both of them were equally worked up because neither of them was going to last. Jessie’s head was tipped back, her eyes closed and her mouth agape.

Mike couldn’t tear his eyes away as she worked toward her rapture. He helped her along, pinching and twisting her nipples before slipping a hand to her clit. Her body shuddered violently when she exploded around him, her walls pulsing and pulling him into his own rapture.

Jessie collapsed on top of Mike, pressing her face into his neck. He wrapped both arms possessively around her, nuzzling into her hair.

“What do you say to taking however much time we have left before your timer goes off to take a hot shower?”

“I think that might be a necessity at this point.”

Trailing his fingers down her spine, Mike gently cupped Jessie’s ass. “Tell me if it starts getting uncomfortable.”

“I will. I just wanna lay here a little longer.”

That was fine with Mike. The girls he used to hook up with always told him how different he was from their other booty calls because he used to stick around and cuddle after they’d finished. They thought it was to give him a better shot at a repeat visit but the truth was, he just needed the closeness.

Holding Jessie always felt different though. It not only satisfied the part of him that was touch starved, it satisfied the part of him that craved to be loved. He’d been biting his tongue whenever the words threatened to spill out, too afraid that if he said it first, she wouldn’t say it back. He didn’t think he would be able to handle that kind of rejection so, instead, he just held her a little tighter, hoping one day she would say the three little words he longed to hear.

Though she had initially been unsure about meeting Mike’s mother and Sy’s parents, Jessie did agree that if Sy got his leave, she would go with them to Georgia. On Christmas Eve, Sy called to say that he would be able to leave the base on the twenty-sixth, solidifying their plans.

Not wanting to waste any of Sy’s precious off time, Jessie and Mike slept through Christmas evening and hit the road before dawn.

At twelve o’clock on the dot, the two of them waited outside Sy’s base with breakfast sandwiches and coffees in hand. They were both pretty tired after the nine hour drive but Sy would be able to take over if ever Mike couldn’t make it through the last stretch.

There were a dozen other cars around with parents, siblings, husbands, wives and children eagerly awaiting their loved ones. Mike held Jessie as he leaned back against the hood of his car. Her leg had been bouncing up and down for the past hour. At first, Mike thought it was because she was getting restless from being cooped up in the car but he could tell now that it was the nerves of seeing Sy again after so long.

The first group of soldiers made their way out and the lot filled with excited chatter. Jessie studied each face as they came into view, searching for her man, but was disappointed to find that he was not amongst them.

“He’ll be here, don’t worry,” Mike whispered in her ear, squeezing her hip.

She tried to remain calm as the second, larger group came out. After a few of the men dispersed, she spotted one of the guys she’d seen that summer at the festival. Sure enough, Sy was not far behind.

She darted out of Mikey’s hold, sprinting towards him.

“Incoming!” Mike bellowed across the lot, immediately catching his cousin’s attention.

Sy grinned, dropping his pack and bracing himself as Jessie jumped into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist so tightly that it almost made it hard to breathe but, to Sy, that just meant that she was really there with him.

His lips found hers in a hungry kiss that was probably bordering on pornographic but he couldn’t care less about anyone seeing. It was his confirmation that Jessie still wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

When her lungs began to burn, Jessie reluctantly broke their kiss, gazing into Sy’s stunningly blue eyes. Someone beside them cursed, drawing both her and Sy’s attention. They turned their heads just in time to see Sy’s friend, Gabe, tearing a twenty dollar bill from someone’s hands.

“What is that about?” Jessie asked, turning her eyes back to Sy.

“They thought I was lyinʼ about ya goin’ out with both me and Mike. They thought it was my way of hidinʼ that you’d chosen him over me in the end.”

“And with a kiss like that you just won me twenty bucks,” Gabe beamed.

Jessie didnʼt recognize the other soldier so he hadn’t been at the festival that summer. If he had, heʼd have known she was equally crazy about both men.

“Come on, Nate,” Mike shouted from the car. “Youʼll have plenty of time to feel her up on the road. The faster we leave, the faster I can join in.” 

Jessie giggled as Sy set her back onto the ground, picking up his bag and throwing an arm around Jessie’s shoulder.

“Bye, Gabe!” 

“Nice to see you again, Jessie!”

When they finally parked outside Sy’s childhood home four hours later, the nerves found their way back to Jessie’s stomach.

“So umm, we need to talk about something before we go in,” Mike said as he shut off the car and turned to face Sy and Jessie who sat in the back seat. “Jessie got invited because my mom told your mom that she thought I had a girlfriend.”

Jessie and Sy both nodded. They already knew that.

“What do we tell them when we get inside? Do we tell them straight up that you’re dating the both of us and get it out of the way?”

“It’s what we did with my mom,” Jessie pointed out.

“Yes, but your mom also offered me a hit from her joint as soon as we walked through the door.”

Jessie’s mom was definitely unique, that was true. She was a gender studies professor who believed in female empowerment and embracing one’s sexuality. Her only question had been when could she meet Sy.

But she really wanted to make a good impression with Mike and Sy’s family and that didn’t involve being branded a whore from the moment she set foot in the house. What if they didn’t understand?

“Maybe it would be best if we didn’t tell them right now,” she eventually admitted, looking down at her shaking hands.

“It would probably be easier for them all to accept our relationship if they got to know you first,” Sy agreed though the words tasted awful as he said them. “If we tell them now they’ll make up this idea of who you are in their heads and it’ll be really hard to break it afterwards.”

“It sucks that my mom blabbed about us. This probably would have been easier if they got to know you as Sy’s girlfriend first.”

Jessie didn’t have time to ask him why before he was pushing his door open and climbing out of the car. Sy and Jessie did the same just as a man and two women came down the house’s front steps.

The older of the two women went straight for Sy, greeting him with a warm embrace. Mike on the other hand didn’t hug the woman who Jessie guessed was his mother. He said a quick hello then shook hands with Sy’s dad.

After releasing her son, Mrs. Syverson gave Mike an expectant look and he smiled sheepishly as he approached her.

“Hi Aunt B.”

Aunt B hugged Mike just as tight as she did Sy, albeit not as long, while Sy hugged both his dad and Mike’s mother.

“It’s good to see you two boys here together again,” Aunt B said before turning to Jessie. “I take it this is your mystery lady, Mike?”

Mike came to stand by Jessie’s side, taking her hand in his. “Yes. This is my girlfriend, Jessie. Jessie, these are Sy’s parents, Barbara and Robert, and this is my mother, Jill.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Jessie said with a shy smile.

“Welcome to our home, Jessie,” Sy’s mother said. “We are so very glad to have ya with us. Come on in!”

They hadnʼt even taken the bags out of the car but they seemed to think that it could wait until later.

“When we heard that Nate would be home today, we decided to delay our Christmas dinner. I know you boys are probably already starvin’. I made all your favorites.”

Though Jessie knew Sy was a military nickname, it was weird to hear his family refer to him by his given name. She made a mental note to ask him which one he wanted her to use.

The group made their way inside where a table of snacks had been set up in the living room. Mike immediately shoved a piece of cheese in his mouth but his mother slapped his hand away from the plate as he reached for another.

“Where are your manners? Offer your guest something to drink before you stuff your face.”

“I just got here, I don’t even know what there is to drink!”

Mr. Syverson shook his head, addressing Jessie himself. “We have white wine, beer, juice and soda in the fridge and Mike can show ya the liquor cabinet if ya want to make yourself a drink. Lord knows he raided it enough times as a kid.”

Sy was faster, walking over to said cabinet and shifting the bottles aside until he found his favorite bottle of whiskey and a bottle of spiced rum for Jessie. During their virtual dates, Sy had paid attention, learning a few of her likes, dislikes and habits. She drank rum and cokes as a cocktail but preferred wine with food. She always had a blanket nearby just in case she got cold or sometimes simply because she wanted to be cozy. His favorite thing he’d learned was that when she yawned, she made this sound—almost like a little squeak—that reminded him of a puppy.

Not wanting anyone to question why Sy already knew what she wanted to drink, Jessie dragged Mike to the fridge to get the bottle of coke. She could have gone alone but she felt uncomfortable serving herself. Mike grabbed a beer before guiding her to a cabinet to choose what size glass she wanted.

“Thank you,” Jessie whispered to Sy, setting the glasses on the table for him to fill.

“My pleasure, Sweetheart.”

Mrs. Syverson checked on the turkey in the oven, filling the room with the delicious aroma and making Jessie’s stomach grumble.

“See, we should have started with the food,” Mikey muttered under his breath. Jessie poked him in the ribs for his comment but leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Drinks in hand, the three of them returned to the living room where Mike and Jessie sat on the loveseat, and Sy took the folding chair that had been added to provide the missing seat.

“Did the drive go well, Mike?”

“Yeah, it was fine. There was no traffic at four in the morning so that definitely made getting out of the city less painful.”

“Why on Earth would ya have been on the road that early?” Mr. Syverson asked in a tone that made Jessie feel like a child being scolded. By the look on Mike’s face, it had the same effect on him and she felt the need to stand up for him.

“It made sense for us to pick up Sy on the way here and we didn’t want him to have to wait for us all day.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Jessie,” Aunt B said, shooting her husband a sideways glance. “We are very grateful that you two could pick him up. We hadnʼt seen him in almost a year since he moved to that base.”

Sy knew his mother hadnʼt been thrilled that he spent his summer leave with his army buddies instead of coming home. They’d grown used to him coming home on weekend leaves but that hadnʼt been possible since heʼd started Special Forces training.

“Ya know I would visit more if I could.”

“I know, dear. Itʼs not as if ya lived only twenty minutes away yet hadn’t stopped by in months.”

The not so subtle dig had very clearly been meant for Mike. Whenever he had a spare weekend where he wasnʼt working or studying, he was with Jessie. He hadn’t seen his mother in three months and apparently she had shared that fact with his aunt and uncle.

Mike had become so used to hiding his life from his mother that he didn’t really know how to share it with her anymore. It had been that way ever since the time his school had called his mother to say that they suspected he’d been smoking weed on school grounds. The only reason they hadn’t expelled him was because they couldn’t prove it because he’d dumped his stash. She’d looked so disappointed. Not wanting to ever see that look in her eyes again, he had stopped sharing things with her altogether. Good or bad.

“Iʼve been busier than usual this last semester.”

“I know, honey,” Jill reassured her son, patting Mike’s knee. “But it’s your final year, you’re almost done!”

“Have ya started lookin’ for jobs for after ya graduate?” Mr. Syverson asked, reaching to pile a few pieces of cheese and some vegetables on a little novelty napkin.

The house was not fully decorated for the holiday season but there was what looked like a handmade table runner under the plates of appetizers and various seasonal figurines on the fireplace mantle.

Next to a ceramic reindeer was a picture of two young boys who had to be Sy and Mike. They were standing on a pier each with their arm over the other’s shoulders and soaking wet from head to toe.

If she had to guess, Jessie would say Sy was around thirteen and Mike was around ten. There was no difficulty distinguishing between the two boys with Sy being a fair bit taller than Mike. And there was no mistaking that always perfectly ruffled head of hair for anyone else’s.

“I haven’t really thought about what I’m going to do once I graduate.”

“Why not? I’m sure most of the students graduatin’ next summer have already found their future employer.”

“Well, it’s hard to look for a job without knowing where I’m going to live after graduating.”

Jessie frowned, looking at Mike then at Sy. It was the first she had heard that Mike would be moving after graduation but Sy seemed unphased.

“Maybe havin’ a job lined up would fix that. Ya might not have the luxury of being picky. When it’s your first job, ya go where the work is, ya don’t wait until it finds you.”

The oven timer went off, saving Mike from having to come up with an answer to that statement. Seeing that he was a little frazzled, Jessie took Mikey’s hand as Jill, Barbara and Robert stood to help put the finishing touches on their meal.

Sy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You didn’t tell her, did you?” he spoke in a low voice, glancing over to make sure his family in the kitchen couldn’t hear.

“Tell me what?”

Mike pulled Jessie into his side, placing a kiss on her temple. “I was going to ask you if you wanted us to get a place together after graduation but Rob let the cat out of the bag before I got anything really figured out.”

“In Baltimore?” Jessie didn’t want to assume anything but Mikey did say he wasn’t sure where he would be living.

“If that’s what you want. Or maybe somewhere a little further south that Sy could call home too.”

Mouth agape, Jessie looked to Sy for confirmation before she allowed herself to get too excited.

“I’ve been tellin’ him that I shouldn’t influence your decision about where to move because I could be shipped out at any time but he’s been pretty insistent that if that was what you wanted, he would do it.”

Mikey stood, holding his hand out to help Jessie from the couch.

“Let’s talk about that later. We still have an entire meal of awkward small talk ahead of us and we need to save our strength.”

Unfortunately, he was only half joking about needing strength. Jessie finished her drink and Sy exchanged her empty cup for a glass of white wine.

Sy’s parents sat on one side of the table with Jessie and Mike across from them. Once again, Sy was the odd one out, sitting at the end of the table across from his aunt. At least Jessie was between him and Mike which allowed Sy to brush their knees together under the table without anyone noticing.

Everyone’s plates were filled and they all eagerly dug into their meal.

“I’m glad we could all be here together, it’s been so long,” Jill said. 

“It really has,” Aunt B agreed with a warm smile.

“And I’m really happy you could join us, Jessie. I’ve never had the opportunity to meet any of Mike’s girlfriends.”

“There’s no time to meet them when they change every other week.”

It was the truth but Mrs. Syverson still gave her husband a pointed look. Not everyone could be so lucky as to find the woman they wanted to marry on the first go. 

“What about you, honey?” she asked, turning her attention to her son. “Has anyone caught your fancy?”

Sy froze halfway through a bite of turkey, his eyes finding Jessie for all of half a second before fixating on his food again. He took his time swallowing the food, putting a hand on her knee below the table before he answered his mother.

“You could say that.”

“I see the military hasn’t changed ya. It’s still like pullin’ worms, the pair of you,” Mrs. Syverson gestured to both boys with her fork.

“That’s because they got so used to covering for each other whenever they got in trouble,” Mr. Syverson said.

“Thick as thieves those two used to be,” his wife added more lightheartedly. She had a fond smile on her face, as if she was picturing them as two young troublemaking boys again.

They still are, Jessie thought.

“Mike mentioned that he used to spend most of his summers here with Sy.”

“Yes, well, as I’m sure you have guessed, Mike was an energetic little boy. At first we wanted to give Jill some time to breathe but then the boys got so attached to each other that we figured it would keep them both busy through the summer boredom.”

It wasn’t at all hard to imagine that Mike would have been a hard child to care for all alone. Mike had said his teachers wanted him to get checked for ADHD but they hadn’t had the money for the evaluation or for the expensive medication so nothing had ever come of it.

“I missed not having my baby with me but it did give me two months of night shifts every year which helped pay for his first year of college.”

Jill sounded so proud that she had been able to do that for her son. It must have been quite the sacrifice to have to choose between keeping her boy close and helping him pay for his future.

She remembered Mike mentioning that Mr. and Mrs. Syverson had contributed the remaining tuition money from his grandparents’ inheritance.

“So what do you do, dear? Are you in school with Mike?” Mrs. Syverson asked Jessie.

“Not exactly… I’m a double major in English and writing at Loyola university.”

“You live in Maryland?” Jill sounded shocked. At least it helped explain why she hadn’t met Jessie yet. “How did you and Mike even meet?”

��We met at a music festival in Virginia.”

The adults nodded. Well, technically they were all adults but judging by the looks on Mike and Sy’s faces, they felt the same way she did; like they were children sitting at the grown-ups table.

“So you like that headache inducin’ music too, I take it? That I don’t miss hearin’ around the house.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Jessie confirmed with a small laugh.

“So the two of you have been together since July then? Must be getting serious.”

Mike groaned, “Mom, we’ve literally been on like six dates, could you hold off a little before you start picking china patterns?”

Sy struggled to hide his frustration that all the attention was on Mike and Jessie. To him, Jessie was as much his girlfriend as she was Mike’s. Just because he had fucked her in the last six month didn’t mean he was more of a boyfriend than Sy was.

Of course Sy wanted his parents to get to know Jessie. He wanted them to grow to care for her as much as he had, but he wanted them to do so as his girlfriend. He was damn proud to be with her and he didn’t like keeping her a dirty little secret.

He managed to hang on until the empty plates were cleared before he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m a little beat from the drive, I think I’ll call it a night.”

A disappointed look fell over Jessie’s face as she gaped up at Sy. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eye while he moved around to kiss his Mama goodnight. Jessie wasn’t the only one to be disappointed by the situation.

“I think we’ll follow you up,” Mike said, putting his hand on Jessie’s lower back and looking to her for a subtle nod of agreement. “We’ve been awake since way too early. I know where the sheets are, I’ll make up the bed.”

“No need. Mike you are sharin’ with Nathan, Jill is already set up in your room and Jessie will take the second guest bedroom down here.”

“What?” Mike’s head whipped to his uncle as he scoffed. “I’m not fifteen, you can’t tell me that I’m not allowed to share a room with my girlfriend.”

His uncle stayed firm, jabbing his finger down on the table.

“As long as you’re still under my roof, as far as Iʼm concerned, the same rules apply. No girls behind closed doors. I have no intention of watchin’ ya face the same choices my brother did and he was a year older than ya which proves that age has nothing to do with responsibility.”

“Pop—” Sy’s attempt to calmly placate his father was interrupted when Mike hastily stood from his chair.

“Don’t fucking compare me to him!” he growled.

“Mike! Language!”

Mike ignored his mother’s admonishment.

“And what the fuck do you mean having to face the same choice?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Jessie didn’t have a clue what was going on beyond the obvious “no sex under my roof” rule and her eyes went back and forth between Mike and his uncle as they stared each other down. Mike never talked about his dad and Jessie had never asked not wanting to reopen old wounds. By the direction of the current conversation, it seemed that her choice had been wise. Beside them, the two other women remained completely silent but Barbara put her hand over Jill’s on her lap.

“It’s nice to see you think so low of me that you actually believe I would hesitate for even a second about what to do.” To the untrained ear, the bite in his words might sound like anger but Jessie knew that was only to mask the hurt he was feeling.

“That’s because no matter how hard I tried, ya still turned out like him! Ya party all the time, you’ve slept with damn near half the girls in Nate’s year—yeah, I know about that—and from last I heard, ya barely show up to enough classes to scrape by. You’re a good kid Mike but ya make stupid decisions. Ya may not like to hear it but you’re just like your dad.”

Sy was furious. His father had gone over the line. Apparently he’d chosen that particular moment to give Mike some tough love. What he didn’t realize was that Jessie was the exact reason why Mike didn’t need that anymore. Mike wanted to be more responsible. He was trying really hard to be the kind of man he thought Jessie deserved. His cousin, who had never earned above a B in his entire academic career, had gotten an A on not one, but two midterms. Sy couldn’t be anything other than proud because he knew how much effort and work had been needed to get those grades.

Now, however, Mike was working hard on maintaining his last shred of self-control. His fists clenched so tightly at his sides that Sy was afraid he might draw his own blood but rather than lash out, Mike stormed out through the back door without another word.

“That was uncalled for,” Jill said quietly.

“You wouldn’t be sayin’ that if ya ended up a grandmother by age forty-five.”

“You don’t know that that would happen.”

“Ya don’t know that it wouldn’t.”

Jessie’s gaze fell to her lap where she was wringing the cloth napkin in her hands. Shame burned at her cheeks. Had she suddenly turned invisible? These people were debating what would happen if Mike got her pregnant as if she wasn’t there to hear it.

“I’m goin’ to go find Mike. Don’t expect any of us back tonight.”

Sy walked around the table, helping Jessie up and leading her towards the mudroom where Mike had escaped. Outside, Mike’s car was gone and that was the last straw. Jessie burst into tears.

“Fuck, Sweetheart, come here.”

Sy pulled Jessie against his chest, holding her close as she sobbed.

“Why did your dad say all those things to Mikey?”

“Because my dad never forgave Chris for abandoning his son. It don’t make anything he said right but in his mind, he was protectin’ ya from goin’ through the same shit aunt Jill did. Neither of us had tried to bring home a girl since we finished high school so I guess we both just assumed that old rule wouldn’t apply anymore.”

“What about you? Why were you so eager to go off to bed?”

With a sigh, he released Jessie, cupping her face so she looked up at him.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard to watch you and Mike together. The best I got in the last six months was a Skype call so I got a little jealous watchin’ him touch ya the way I’ve been wishin’ I could. And I kinda wished that my mama would’ve been tryin’ to get to know ya because she wanted to, not because she was bein’ polite to a guest.”

A wave of guilt washed over Jessie.

“We didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Sweetheart. Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead then another to her lips.

“What do we do now? Where would he go?”

Sy gave her a small smile, looking every bit as handsome as Jessie remembered in the evening light.

“I already know where he is. For now, we give him a bit of time to cool off, then you go show him that whatever you heard tonight didn’t change what you think of him.” Sy hesitated for a moment. “It didn’t, did it?”

“Of course not!”

“Good.” He gave a determined nod then took Jessie’s hand in his. “Now come on, I need your help with something, then we can go bring Mike home.”

The woods behind the creek hadn’t changed since the last time Mike had been there. It did seem that the newer generations had found a different place to hangout and get drunk because it was devoid of the normal empty beer cans. Or maybe teenagers had gotten better at clearing their trash in the last few years.

A big tree had fallen over years ago and it served as a bridge to cross over the water. It made the hideout more secluded but it was also a bitch to cross once the alcohol hit and everyone had to go home.

The rocks that they used to use to form their fire pit were still there and Mike rearranged them in a circle around the hole in the ground. He cleared the dead leaves and dug it out a little more before collecting some broken tree branches and taking some bark from a nearby Birch.

Building the base of his fire was almost meditative. It gave Mike something to think about besides how horribly dinner had ended. No matter how angry he had been, he shouldn’t have abandoned Jessie there. At least Sy was around to take care of her. Sharing seemed to have some advantages.

Mike took hold of the joint he had placed behind his ear before getting out of the car and lit it, taking a long drag. He held the smoke in his lungs until they burned before slowly letting it out and moving the lighter to the Birch bark. He fed small twigs to the flame, progressively adding bigger wood until he no longer needed to nurture the flame to keep it alight.

“Still a closet pyro I see.”

Mike whipped around at the sound of Sy’s voice. Jessie stood by his side, one hand in his and the other clutching his bicep.

“Are you okay?” she asked even if she knew he wasn’t.

“Don’t worry about it.” Mike turned back towards the fire, finishing off his joint before throwing the butt into the fire.

“Don’t do that,” Jessie pleaded, letting go of Sy to sit beside Mike and resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t hurt.”

“I’m sorry I bailed. I figured it was better to get out of there before I flipped over a table or something. Aunt B worked hard on her meal and she didn’t deserve for it to be sprayed all over the floor.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize for leaving. If you need to calm down and clear your head before you can talk things over then that’s what I want you to do.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he lied.

“Isn’t there?” Sy challenged, dropping down on Mike’s other side. “I know you, Mike. Fire is what ya do when your thoughts get too loud. So what are they yellin’ about?”

Mike closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. His thoughts were yelling about so many things. Useless, waste of space, unworthy. He was already working through twenty-one years worth of insecurities and twenty-one years worth of hatred and resentment for his father before his uncle said what he’d said.

Mike knew nothing about his dad except for the few breadcrumbs his uncle or his mother had dropped about him over the years which were by no means flattering. Those breadcrumbs could be summarized in three words: girls, drugs, crime.

“Maybe you’re better off with Sy.”

“What?” Sy and Jessie spoke simultaneously but with very different tones. Jessie sounded shocked, looking at Mike with wide eyes. Sy’s voice was a low, angry growl.

“I mean, everything Rob said was true. You deserve better than a fuck up like me.”

“You think that acting like a teenager when you’re in high school makes you a fuck up?” Sy asked, pulling Mike’s attention away from the look of pure hurt on Jessie’s face. “And what makes me more deserving of Jessie than you?”

“You’re the golden boy. Graduated early, free ride to college on a football scholarship, promptly moving up the ranks and now you’re Spec Ops.”

Sy stayed quiet for a long moment, taking in Mike’s words. He’d never known Mike felt that way about him. There might have been a time when they were kids where Mike followed him around trying to be like him but he’d just chalked that up to normal childhood behaviors. He never thought that Mike would be… what? Threatened? Insecure? Jealous? He didn’t really know but that sounded like the kind of conversation the two of them should have on their own.

“I was only the golden boy because I was better at not getting caught.” Sy gently shoved Mike’s head aside, earning him a fleeting smile from the younger man. “You know none of that makes me better than you though, right?”

Mike shrugged as pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around his legs and clasping his hands together. “Why shouldn’t it?”

“Because you’re your own person with your own skill set. You can’t compare yourself to me and pop should never have compared you to Chris because you’re not him either.”

Jessie nodded emphatically. “He’s right,” she said, putting a hand on Mike’s cheek but he didn’t dare turn his face to look at her.

“I love you both just the way you are, Mikey.”

That caused both men to fix their gaze on Jessie.

“You what?” Mikey spoke almost inaudibly.

Jessie pulled her hand away, scrambling to get her feet under her. “Nothing!”

Mikey didn’t let her escape, instead catching her wrist and drawing her back down to his lap.

“Say it again,” he whispered with his forehead pressed against hers.

Jessie’s breath hitched as she looked into Mike’s vulnerable eyes. She hadn’t meant to pick such a moment to make her admission but he needed to know exactly how she felt.

“I love you, Mike.”

She’d been thinking about it for a little while now but she hadn’t wanted to say it over the phone.

“I love you too, Gorgeous.”

Mike placed a tender kiss on her lips, holding Jessie close to his body. Mike would have loved to stay that way all night but he could sense Sy shifting awkwardly by his side.

He placed one more kiss on Jessie’s cheek before nudging her towards Sy who happily moved her to sit astride his lap.

“It’s okay if you need more time,” Sy said, as if that would make it hurt less if she didn’t say those three little words to him.

Jessie shook her head, wrapping her arms around Sy’s neck. “I don’t. I love you.”

“And I love you, Jessie.”

He took his time as he kissed her, making sure to convey just how much he loved and cared for Jessie.

“As much fun as we had the last time the three of us spent a night outdoors, I think our bed is calling our name.”

“I don’t think I can go back tonight, Sweetcheeks.” Mike didn’t want to make his girlfriend spend the night out in the cold with him but he wasn’t ready to face his uncle and there were no motels within an hour’s drive. 

“Hmm… Well, I guess it’s a good thing that Sy and I have a surprise for you, then.”

Mike squinted suspiciously as Jessie and Sy shared a conspiratorial look.

Jessie drove Mike’s car through town, following Sy back to their home for the night. He was uncharacteristically quiet by her side but he kept a hand on her thigh the whole time which helped reassure her that though he was still lost to his thoughts, he was holding on to her rather than pushing her away.

“If the trailer is a-rocking…” Mikey said when the car came to a stop in front of the motorhome.

“Don’t come a-knocking,” Jessie finished. “I thought you might like this. It was Sy’s idea.”

“You know this isn’t much of a step up from the tent, right?”

“It has electricity, a tiny bathroom with running water, a king sized bed… How is it not a step up?”

“Wait seriously? A king bed?”

Jessie smiled, seeing her fun-loving and easygoing boyfriend slowly crawl his way out of the pit his sour mood had thrown him in.

“Come on. Sy’s waiting for us.”

Jessie pushed her door open but Mikey didn’t move. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his old zippo lighter.

“I was supposed to give you guys a night alone.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it up to him.”

Mike exhaled a slow breath, nodding once before following Jessie out of the car. After pulling their bags from the trunk, they made their way inside the trailer where Sy had already set out three beers on the dinette table. Sy took both their bags and brought them into the bedroom, while Mike pulled Jessie into his side, kissing her cheek before he guided her to take a seat on one side of the table while he sat on the other.

When Sy returned, he paused for a moment but followed Mike’s lead, sitting beside Jessie who snuggled into his side like a cat.

“How much did you smoke tonight?” he questioned as he studied the younger man.

He assumed by how buzzed Mike looked, that the joint he’d seen him finish was not his first but they’d only left him for forty-five minutes at most—just enough time for them to tow the trailer to the campsit then go find Mike. Sy hoped Mike hadn’t opted for chain smoking as a coping mechanism when he could have talked it out with either him or Jessie.

Mike’s eyelids drooped, partially concealing the redness behind them. “Just one joint.”

Sy was tempted to call bullshit but he didn’t want it to sound like an accusation instead of the concern he actually felt.

Mike seemed to already know what he was thinking though, not needing to hear the words aloud. “I haven’t been smoking much lately. I lost my tolerance,” he shrugged, leaning back into the corner of the bench and throwing his leg over the seat.

Sy suspected—as he did with most other changes in Mike’s life lately—that Jessie was the cause of his reduced consumption.

“So, Nate,” Mike said, changing the subject, “you never told us what you thought of that little early Christmas gift I sent you.”

“Meaning that video? Which I opened in a room filled with senior officers, thanks for the heads up by the way.”

Mikey had the audacity to look smug, causing Sy to roll his eyes while shaking his head. In his defense, he had said that Sy should open it while he was alone. Sy turned his attention to Jessie instead.

“Pink is sexy as hell on you, Sweetheart,” he whispered against her neck as he held her close.

“I’ll have to give you a live show sometime.”

Jessie’s eyes closed, her head tipping to the side to give Sy better access. If the table hadn’t been in the way, he would have pulled her onto his lap as he began kissing down her throat.

“Don’t need anything more than you, right here, to get me hard as fuckin’ steel.”

Mike watched with rapt attention as Sy slowly teased Jessie. His hands roamed over her breasts before moving downwards. Unfortunately, the table obscured his view of what he did once they reached the waistband of her pants but Jessie’s gasp told him all he needed to know.

“Missed that sound. I hear it in my dreams,” he confessed.

“Must make for damn good dreams,” Mike smirked, shifting in his seat.

Jessie’s breath hitched as Sy’s fingers circled her clit over her panties with just enough pressure to work her up without really giving her any satisfaction.

“Why are we talking about dreams when we could all have the real thing right here, right now?”

Neither man argued, moving to stand from the table. Sy pulled Jessie up, revealing her jeans which were wide open and the bright red panties below. Mikey had picked them out before they left but he’d been shooed out of the room before Jessie slipped them on and it had been driving him crazy not knowing how they looked on her and whether she’d worn a matching bra.

Sy tossed Jessie on her stomach on the bed and dexterously stripped her of her skinny jeans. Mike had been right, Jessie’s ass was to die for in those panties. It seemed Sy shared his opinion because he gave her a sharp spank and bit the meat of her juicy ass so hard there was no doubt she’d have a mark afterwards.

Jessie groaned with a mix of pleasure and sweet pain, reaching back to place a hand on Sy’s scruffy cheek. She tried to guide him to her center but instead, he moved away, kissing down the back of her legs. Once he reached one ankle, he flipped her onto her back and kissed back up the other leg.

Mike removed Jessie’s shirt—happy to find that she had indeed worn the matching bra—before settling on the bed with her between his legs and her head on his lap. The position gave him the perfect angle to play with her tits while Sy dragged the naughty red lace down her thighs.

“I’ve waited a long time to do this,” he said almost reverently before burying his head between her legs.

Jessie cried out and the sound made Mikey’s cock jerk in his pants. He reached down, undoing the zipper to relieve some of the pressure. Jessie’s hands frantically pulled at Sy’s shirt until he ripped the thin barrier over his head and his warm skin was bared to her.

Mike kept his eyes on Jessie’s face while she was hypnotized by the sight of Sy tongue fucking her cunt. Mike had always heard the gossip about Sy’s skills but seeing Jessie lost in the pleasure cemented that it wasn’t just a high school rumour. Did she look that blissed out when he was the one going down on her?

As if Jessie could read his thoughts, her hooded gaze found his and she pushed herself up on her elbow while pulling his head down to crush their lips together. The awkward spider-man position didn’t really allow them to deepen the kiss but he felt her feverish need all the same. Her need for him, not just Sy.

Mike moved down the bed, propping Jessie up with her back to his chest. He removed her bra and his shirt, and when she leaned against him again, skin touching skin, she let out a satisfied sigh. It was all too easy now to paint her neck in deep hickeys as he pinched her nipples.

“Think you can take us both tonight, Sweetcheeks?” Mike whispered too low for Sy to hear. He didn’t want to get his hopes up in case Jessie didn’t feel ready yet. Not that Sy would let deception show in front of Jessie—if he felt deception at all.

Jessie gave him an eager nod, earning her an appreciative groan. The bed dipped as Mikey climbed off, moving to riffle through Jessie’s bag. Her head fell to the side, watching him move. Why was it so hot when a man was shirtless with open jeans hanging low on his hips?

Sy curled his fingers into her G spot, pulling Jessie’s focus back to the man feasting between her thighs. They quivered from their position above Sy’s shoulders as her hips bucked upwards. Her hand flew down, cupping the back of his head and holding him in place.

“Right there.”

Sy opened his eyes, watching Jessie’s blissed expression. The hand that held her hips down moved to her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His own hips moved unconsciously against nothing, his neglected cock desperate for the slightest bit of relief.

“Come for him, Gorgeous. Give him what he wants,” Mike commanded. She could do nothing but comply, coming all over Sy’s face.

She lay boneless as the boys moved around her, stripping off their remaining clothing. Mike tossed the items he’d retrieved from her bag onto the bed before pushing his pants and boxers down.

“I thought you’d gotten an IUD,” Sy commented when he noticed the box of condoms beside Jessie.

“Mikey kept the mandatory condoms rule.”

Sy looked at Mike over his shoulder. The younger man looked almost guilty as he pulled his eyes away.

“You do what you want.”

He might have been satisfied with Jessie being on birth control but he didn’t mind the extra protection. Especially since he knew that the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy was a big sore spot for Mike.

“No, I’m good with that.”

It was almost imperceptible but Mike’s shoulders relaxed at Sy’s words, like all he’d needed was a little validation. It’s not like things would be easier if it were Sy getting Jessie pregnant. What if he got shipped out? It would still be Mike staying behind and taking care of Jessie. There was no doubt in Sy’s mind that that was exactly what Mike would do.

They both stalked towards Jessie, each stretching out on one side of her. Sy took Jessie’s lips while Mike kissed his way from her neck to her breasts. His fingers found her dripping folds, slick from both her earlier release and Sy’s enthusiastic pleasuring.

He gathered some of the moisture before his fingers dipped lower, finding her back entrance. When he gently pushed inside, Jessie gasped into Sy’s mouth. The hand that had been teasing Mike’s nape tightened around his wavy locks and he shifted to study her face for any signs of discomfort.

“Mike? Are ya doin’ what I think you’re doin’?”

The younger man pushed in deeper, looking up at Sy with a smirk when it caused Jessie to moan.

“Since you’ve been stuck with your hand since last summer, you get to choose. You want her hot pussy or her tight ass?”

Sy’s gaze darkened as he realized the implications of the choice being offered to him.

“Is that what you two have been up to while I was away?” he asked Jessie.

“Not yet. You want to be my first?”

The sound that rose from his chest was damn near animalistic. “As appealin’ as that invitation is, that’s not what I was thinkin’ about whenever I had a moment to myself. Besides, it looks like Mike has been doin’ the work, he should get to reap the rewards first.”

“Then get on your back, soldier.”

Amused, Sy did as he was told, laying on his back in the middle of the bed. Mike pulled away long enough for Jessie to straddle Sy’s waist and lock him in a fiery kiss. Jessie was thrilled for her hands to finally roam all over his body. He seemed to have the same idea because Jessie was sure his touch was going to leave its mark.

“This is gonna be cold, sorry.”

Mike was right, the gel was cold from the evening in the trunk of the car but her boyfriend’s hands were warm as he continued to work her open. Below them, Sy blindly reached for a condom, rolling it down his shaft. He placed his tip at her entrance and she eagerly lowered herself down until he was sheathed to the hilt.

It was Mike’s turn to suit up and add a coat of lubricant over the latex.

“Nate, hold her for me.”

For a moment Sy looked unsure, seeking confirmation from Jessie.

“I accidentally jerked forward once and it hurt more than all the other times combined.”

Jessie lowered herself down, bringing her chest flush against Sy’s and busied herself with sucking deep bruises into his collarbone. He wrapped his thick arms around her, holding her in place while the blunt head of Mike’s cock found her entrance.

“Tell Sy your safeword, Sweetcheeks.”

“Homesick,” she whispered, her nose brushing against his ear.

A hopeful warmth bloomed in Sy’s chest. Homesick. The name of the album on which their song was released? At least, what he considered to be their song. They’d never discussed it or anything. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but if he was right, she’d thought about him as much as he’d thought about her.

A hand moved into Jessie’s hair, pulling into a languid kiss. She melted into him and Mike took the opportunity to push inside her.

The first inch was easy enough but when he reached his full girth Jessie’s breath hitched.

“You’re doin’ so well, baby. You tell us when ya wanna keep goin’.”

“I’m good, it’s just… a lot.”

After adding a bit more lube, Mike continued to work his way deeper until he was fully inside Jessie. All three of them were breathing heavily, all three of them feeling like they were on a hairpin trigger.

It took a moment for Jessie to adjust to the feeling of being so completely and utterly filled but she eventually pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.

“Somebody please move.”

After a bit of shifting and adjusting, the three of them found a steady rhythm. Sy would pull out of her pussy as Mike plunged into her ass then they would switch. Together they worked Jessie until she was teetering over the edge but she forced the sensation away. If she was going to come, she wanted to do so as they both exploded inside her.

“Fuck, I can feel you clenching my cock, baby.”

“Are you close, Sweetcheeks? Do you like being full of the both of us? Are you gonna come for us?”

“Oh yeah, she loves it. Can’t you tell by the way her greedy little holes are trying to milk our cocks?”

The dirty talk was going to be the death of her. She couldn’t hold off any longer and she cried out their names as she shook between them. Sy groaned low and guttural while curse after curse fell from Mike’s lips, both of them following her over the edge.

Fingers dug into her hips with a bruising grip. She wasn’t sure if they were Mike or Sy’s or maybe even both. Her eyelids felt too heavy to lift as she melted further into Sy’s chest. The happy little bubble enveloping them was broken when the warm body at her back pulled away, letting the cool air hit her sweat-slicked skin.

Jessie whined, blindly reaching back but Mike was already out of reach.

“Don’t worry gorgeous, I’m just getting something to clean you up.”

Sy wrapped his thick arms around her, smoothing his hand up and down her back while Mike disposed of the condom and cleaned the excess lube from between Jessie’s cheeks. Once he was done, he handed Sy the shirt Jessie wore to bed every night—Sy’s shirt— while he found clean briefs for himself before crawling up the bed and pulling Jessie into his chest. Sy reluctantly sat up, taking his turn and cleaning himself up the same way Mike had.

Just then, Sy’s phone went off, a muffled ringing sounding from the back pocket of his jeans that were still on the floor. Checking the caller ID, Sy paused before sitting on the edge of the bed and accepting the call.

“Hi pop.”

His father ignored the greeting, getting straight to the point. “Telling Mike that he couldn’t sleep in the same room as his girlfriend was not an invitation for you to go off and let them use the trailer.”

“Why not? By your own definition ‘my roof, my rules’.” Sy’s grandparents had left the trailer to him in their will. They knew he liked camping but they figured that he deserved a decent bed instead of the hard ground after so many nights on army bunks.

“And what is your plan, Nathan? Are you just gonna sit outside and listen to them go at it all night?”

Sy’s father was speaking loud enough that the three of them could hear his words clearly. After sharing a silent exchange, Jessie and Mike both nodded at Sy.

“Actually, I’m going to enjoy an evening of catching up with my girl who I haven’t seen in six months.”

“What are you talking about? Are you saying Jessie is your girlfriend not Mikeʼs?”

“No. Mike and I both met Jessie this summer, we both hit it off with her, and we are both dating her.”

“You’re being ridiculous, you can’t both be dating her.”

“We can and we are. Whatever you think of that…” Sy trailed off, looking between Jessie and Mike again. “We both love her. Whatever you think doesnʼt matter and it wonʼt change anything so if you don’t like it, donʼt bother sharinʼ your opinion.”

Syʼs father didn’t say anything for a long time before the dial tone informed Sy that he had hung up.

The silence weighed heavily around the trio until Mikeʼs phone buzzed in his bag. Against his better judgment, Mike picked it up, already knowing it was his mother. Sensing he wouldn’t have the mental clarity to repeat anything important, he answered it on speaker. If she was going to talk about the three of them then the three of them should hear.

“Hi mom.”

“Mike? Mike, where are you?”

He winced at the hint of panic in her voice.

“I’m with Nate and Jessie.” It wasn’t a location but it was as good as she was going to get. If they really wanted to track them down it wouldn’t be all that hard, they didn’t need any help.

She released a relieved sigh. “So they found you then? I wasn’t sure, all I heard from Rob was that Nate said you two were both dating Jessie.”

“They did, and we are.”

“Do you really love her?”

Mike locked eyes with Jessie. “I do.”

“Can you put Jessie on the phone, please?”

Jessie’s eyes went wide, waiting for Mike to tell her what to do. He took the phone off speaker and pushed it towards her.

“Jill?”

“Don’t break his heart, okay?”

Jessie was stunned, almost speechless as she clenched the phone in her hand. “What?”

Jill sniffed on the other end of the line. “If Mike says he loves you then he really means it. I haven’t heard those words from him since he was a kid. Don’t break his heart. You can’t just string him along because you need someone around while Sy is away.”

It would be stupid to make any sort of promise after only a few months. So much was going to change for them in the next year and so much was still uncertain. Despite that, she found herself speaking the words and meaning them with all her heart.

“I won’t,” she vowed.

“Rob is just scared. He loves them both like sons, he doesn’t want to watch another member of his family spiral down the rabbit hole. He’ll calm down. Me and Barbara are going to be at the diner tomorrow at nine. The boys will know the one. You three should join us for breakfast.”

“I’ll tell them.”

With a quick goodbye, Jessie handed the phone back to Mike.

“I think… I think she’s okay with us. Your moms want us to have breakfast with them tomorrow morning.”

“You can’t expect me to be anywhere earlier than noon,” Mike joked, attempting to hide his relief.

“We both know your stomach is going to be growling so loud that we will all be awake by seven,” Jessie teased, nudging Mike with her foot.

“I guess that means you’ll have to give me something to eat to tide me over.”

Jessie bit her bottom lip as her cheeks flushed and her smile grew. Sy drew Jessie back into his side, brushing his thumb over her arm while he placed a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Agreed, he gets cranky when he’s hungry. I should know, I used to have to drive him to the store whenever he had midnight munchies.”

Mike switched off the light and the three of them burrowed under the covers. She nestled into Mike’s chest with Sy pressed against her back and his leg tangled between hers. This felt right. Jessie couldn’t begin to imagine having to choose between the two men. Sy was all rugged and mysterious while Mike was outgoing and playful. They were two puzzle pieces that fit with her so perfectly. She needed both of them. They completed her in different ways and she was not going to let anyone make her feel ashamed of that.

Part 3

[specter319]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄? (Ace Combat x CoD 141)

A/N: As a little Christmas present, I decided to work on a little something something, seeing a random anon state in @mockerycrow's Ask about fighter jets and Task Force 141 got my interest real quick, having been someone who got introduced to these two fandoms 1-2 years ago I absolutely adore the storyline in regards to Trigger and Count, but also the storyline as a whole, neatly wrapping up the reason why three strikes is called three strikes, if only a certain other game could have the same sort of stable plot- Complaints about the plot aside for those who stumble upon it have fun with this little short story that's been brewing in my head! Please enjoy the Homoeroticism of Ghost and Soap Trigger Warnings: Mention of Blood Word Count: 2.5k Words Characters: John 'Soap' MacTavish x Simon 'Ghost' Riley, mentions of Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick and Johnathan Price.

From the moment John MacTavish’s Scottish blue eyes gazed upwards into the beautiful atmosphere above him, he knew he was utterly and completely fucked. It all started with one moment in time, watching the infamous ‘Ghost’ launch one of their newly brought F-35s testing it out for another squadron, making sure all systems were in check. Watching it from the fences as the utter decimation of their ears thanks to the lack of protection were good faith to the man taking it, for what seemed to be a joy ride. And as Kyle and John stood there, seeing it hovering just mere meters above the runway, their joy was all but uncontainable in knowing just who was behind the sticks.

Conversations were the only thing that took over the engines' mighty roar as Kyle and John yelled at the inanimate object in celebration.

“Ooh yeah! Ooh yeah!” Kyle yelled out.

“Ooh, go ‘un, go ‘un” John egged right back.

And then, just as it pulled up, sure it was now at best pulling upwards of 5 gees, the men on the ground cheered.

“Go on you fuckin’ beauty!” Just as it was making its way further into the clouds, graciously curving its own form into the shape of them. 

They were ecstatic, joyful, even, at least one was, to see a man so tall, almost built like a damn statue from ancient history managing to tame a beast so wild, and wicked. And yet, knowing that it was almost second nature in that man's blood to fly it, because that bastard was the only one allowed, thanks to the great charm of the bastards in the west, to have an F-22 Raptor. The only one in the UK, belonged to a man who had no name, never showed his face to the people he didn’t know, including the two men who stood there on the grassy knoll outside of the airbase cheering him on. 

What a weird shitpot of luck that was, almost as if the gods of fate above had been watching the two men above, seeing them be so supportive of a man who never had the cheers of his fellow squad members, but instead, feared him. Tried to rebel against him, just to get a far enough away distance to stay away from a man and his, as some people called it ‘Raptor’s Ghost’.

Those that had seen it, had been lucky enough to tell the tale, at least, on the side he came back to, fellow squadron and captain, but those who had been on the receiving side of those guns as they lifted from their molded seam, only saw a wisp of a dark gray aircraft, before a fiery explosion filled their cabin.

Yes, there was one thing to be known about this ‘Ghosts’ jet — he’d specified that he must have it in a darker gray. Just a couple of shades darker than what the original metal was painted as. And the thing was? Somehow, amongst his captains ranking, the government and even the fuckers down in Lockheed — they’d said yes to the request. Even if a few bureaucrats in the Pentagon were waving the red flag from the start.

So he guessed that’s what the plan was then, to go and catch a sneak in the middle of the night of what it looked like, though Kyle tried with all of his might to persuade him otherwise, John was dead set on seeing the beauty that stood in the dead of the night in Ghost’s hangar, wielded far away from the rest of the base, but close enough to know that the rest of the team always, haunted by a Ghost, he guessed that’s where the name came from then. Given that this was usually seen beside the B-2, a call sign of Ghost would’ve been fitting for someone in a something like this. And it seemed like fate was tempting him all and amongst this, because, as John approached the hangar, as big as it was, there was a crack left open, not closed, like all the other times he’d passed it in his own jet. Only to then realize this was the reason why they had called him Ghost to begin with, no one thought he was around, until it was too late.

Everyone knew this Ghost, was a guy, they’d heard his voice, never heard him laugh, was only ever a man of a few simple commands and went off when requested. What caught John MacTavish off guard however, was not only the hangar open, but the place had reeked of oil and fuel, only to be diverged its acoustics of the tin metal in the sound of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, a far cry from the throat roar of the hotdogged engines, John could already tell what Ghost had been doing to the poor thing. Either someone had been here recently or there was still someone here, but that never mattered as his Scottish blue eyes once more, got him fucked over, classical music be damned.

The metallic gray was no longer present, much like he had seen on the various photos that had beautifully given the thing a personality of beauty, and yet deadly. But instead, it was given a more, mature grayed look, as if it was a rehashed version of the F-35, the very same one he had been seen in this afternoon in a reskinned jet. Sudden realizations hit the man when thinking in Ghost’s logic, not too shabby for a Ghost when John had realized that much to his enemies disliking, when they suddenly realized that the jet was no longer a most recent US fighter, it was too late to break off anyway.

And much akin to John’s own footsteps, he’d realized that he was pulled in by the absolute sheer squared beauty of the thing and had moved right into the Ghost’s trap.

“What are you doin’ in my hangar?” Ghost lowly spoke, standing to the side, having seen him since he strolled in here. 

“Jesus wept!” John spoke as he suddenly turned around, the closed distance between them was something almost scary at just how close and personal this man had gotten, and all amongst that, he seemingly had the goal to wear a bloody balaclava, all the while wearing a stripped down version of the gear they would have to haul around on their bodies. Was he really that comfortable in wearing the same shit each day? At least the only thing invading his senses was oil and fuel. 

“I said what are ya doing here?” Ghost questioned before his eyes glanced over at the hangar “Squadron leaders gonna know about this,” his voice loomed.

“Sorry,” That’s all the weak bastard had as he tried to pick himself up faster than he could pull back on his own stick. “A’m interested in that piece of art ye’v got there, heard you were the one flying the Lightning around this mornin’”

“So you were the two hanging around the fence”

John stiffened at the sheer mention of that, he’d seen them? He didn’t think he had given the height already gained as he passed the pair of them from the runway.

“Wanted to watch her give her a proper launch, sir” John hesitated as Ghost only snorted and shook his head at the mention of the last word.

“Flight Lieutenant to you” This Ghost guy seemingly didn’t want to have him out of his hangar after all, but there was no doubt that heavy brown eyes were on him, painted darker then the plane before him as his eyes registered on MacTavish’s uniform still barely on given the zip that was seemingly fought with, the sheen of sweat that was just above the ridgeline of his eyebrows gave away just how much he’d been working during the rest of his day, when he seemingly wasn’t cheering this man on, then again. MacTavish did seem like a familiar last name, what could hurt but to take a guess.

“Apologies,” John moved ever so closer to the jet, almost as if he were to go ahead and, to the thought running in the back of Ghost’s mind, steal it. Poor bastard, probably wouldn’t be able to handle the ride as well as he could. “Does that mean I get to call you LT then?”

The cocky chatter over the radio, often with another teammate, only gave Ghost all the more confidence to take that stab in the dark to try and pinpoint just who he was.

“You can, so long as you tell me if you’re the one flying that bloody F-16 around.”

John’s eyes suddenly went wide, and of course, that cocky Brit saw it, and with his own pair too. His soul had actively left his body in the acknowledgement that someone had noticed his maneuverability, everyone else had F/A-18’s. But MacTavish was the one that stood his ground when he said he wanted a former fighter pilots F-16, ready to be given back to the Americans, decommissioned, probably in a scrap heap, and yet, here he was, breathing new life into it and treating it like it had just come off the factory rollers. Though, his only fault that he seemingly had with it, was that of the lack of gun ammunition, paling in comparison to something like the beast that stood before him.

“Uh, and why would tha’ be?” 

Ghost paused, raising a brow in confusion, maybe he was going to have to talk to John’s squad leader, had he really not seen beyond his two feet at just who he had under his wing, the man could maneuver the thing as well as he could like the jet he stood before and maybe, if he ever took the chance (which, in high unlikely doubt he would) he could probably pilot Ghost’s, if not, with just a bigger amount of hesitation.

“Just wanted to give a recommendation to the squadron leader as to who to take under our wing, old talents retiring at the end of the year, figured I’d give whoevers flying that F-16 and the one with the yellow strip along the body of the ‘18 a fighting chance at joining the 141” He brushed it off, like it was a chance to come clean. Ghost knew that MacTavish was the one flying the thing, often put in a good word about it to Price. And Price often agreed, that and ‘Gaz’ who was often his wingmanaccording to Price’s notes were often hotshots, but never in an egotistical, ‘wanting to show who’s boss’ way, it was always one of teamwork, and he quite enjoyed seeing them chant as one of their other teammates took down a target before they did.

“The 141?” MacTavish asked

“Yeah, just need to find out who the pair are in the two jets first” Ghost was toying with him as he finally made a move over to his own, inspecting the various scratches that were seemingly evident in the light, but gave the aircraft a seemingly weathered look, one that, Ghost admired. 

“There a reason why they call you the Ghost?” Quick this one was to change the subject, avoiding it, but copying him all the more in his movements as John did the same, placing a gentle hand along the aircraft as his calloused fingers felt a deep scar along the face of the jet, maybe that’s why he rarely had repairs done to the thing other than ones that were required. Maybe that’s why he wears the mask, he’s damaged, just like the bird before him – but he still flies, still finds meaning in the daylight and blue hues of skies.

“There a reason why you’re dancing around the question?” Their hands moved along the surface of the steel at almost the same time, unknown, but as if they were tracing one another's patterns as the question was left in the air for a bit too long before they finally moved to the nose of the aircraft, having no choice but to look at one another as they did so.

“Could say the same,” He watched as Ghost moved towards him, facing him, how he towered over the man with that stature of power, and yet, the only real dominating power he seemingly had left was his rank, and the jet. Because all the smug bastard did was place his hands behind his back and look down at the Scotsman, as if inspecting him as he did the jet, to see if like him, he too had scars beneath that mohawk and blue eyes that seemingly contrasted ever so beautifully along the dark gray. “What happens if one of us already knows the answers?” 

“Then I guess one of us will have to await the answers of the future, but if they already know the answers, they shouldn’t have to wait too long” They both knew one another were staring, helplessly, but stopping it neither as eyes behind that mask squinted ever so gently. So he did have his scars, one on the chin, must have had a bad accident for it to get that bad, and the blood from it too.

“Then I guess I’ll ‘ave ta’ see me way out of this museum then huh? Wouldn’t want ta make a scene now aye?” John smiled, physically having to retch himself from the spot he stood in, not wanting to move away from the view that was before him.

“Don’t quite appreciate customers making a scene and disturbing the nature of this art” So he wasn’t the only one to quickly move along with what he was suggesting as he followed him, only ever a few steps behind, maybe that’s why he got that name, loud as anything in a jet, then he never exists once the engines shut off.

Ghost eventually stopped following him as John made his way out near the doors of the hangar, lingering around just a bit more before he stopped in his tracks, just maybe, if he really did have the answers, he could see how his future LT would respond. “Don’t think I could handle two pieces of art in a museum, never been able ta handle more than one” He swore up and down he saw the man’s head snap into place about that comment, a slight squint at the body language that John was trying to portray as he moved through the hangar doors. “Have a good night, LT”

“Officer Mactavish.”

Payback time.

“Aye sir?” And they’d fallen into line already, a wingman, of sorts, to a Ghost.

“Call me Simon”

Now MacTavish was standing there, being a complete idiot, baffled by the fact that he, of all people, managed to get into the inner circle of a man named Simon, a Ghost. A snort was then heard through the airy atmosphere as he suddenly turned around and walked back towards the stairs of his office, looking back over his shoulder, leaving him in a scrambled state that was the brain of John MacTavish.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” He paused, “For a F-16 Pilot.”

So that’s his name.

[faretheeoscar]

Imperfectly, perfect Christmas

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x gn! reader

--Warnings: non, just pure fluff-

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Proofread by my girls: @mandodinstuff & @lauraispunk

Word count: 700ish~

Happy Holidays! 🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Amidst the twinkling lights of your early celebration of Christmas you and Santiago have planned before you went home to your family to celebrate the holidays, Santiago, besides prepping his house and decorated it all over, he wanted another way to express his love for you, so he embarked on a heartfelt mission: to bake a batch of cookies for his beloved, intending to surprise you trying to make this day more memorable, you've always teased him about his cooking skills, but he wanted to try to do something extra for you, since you were always so attentive towards him and filled his life with love.With a cherished family recipe in hand and a mix of ingredients settled down on the kitchen counter Santiago armed himself with an apron and a whisk and ventured into the world of baking something he has never tried before, but if he succeeded in it, it'll make the perfect Christmas present for you.

Engrossed in the art of mixing flour, sugar, and spices, trying to follow every step on his Abuela's perfectly handwritten recipe as precise as he could ,Santiago was immersed in a vision of your delighted expression upon tasting his homemade treats and also getting lost in the nostalgia of the sweet scent that the mixing of the ingredients brought to him immediately sending his brain towards his childhood memories.However, amidst the holiday tunes he put up on the speakers and all the kitchen bustle, Santiago's attention faltered momentarily. The sudden beep of the oven timer broke his concentration, and he hurriedly checked on the cookies, only to find them slightly more golden (to not say completely burn) than anticipated.

With a sigh, Santiago realized his grand baking plan had failed tremendously. Determined not to disappoint you, and with his goal in mind to still surprise and make the evening somehow different for the both of you when you came home, he dashed to the nearest store, only to get there and found all racks empty and the only thing available for him on seeking solace were the pre-made cookie houses on display.

Racing back home, Santiago carefully arranged the store-bought cookie house on a platter, adorning it with twinkling lights and festive decorations, hoping it would make up for his baking misadventure.

The doorbell chimed, signaling your arrival, he opened the door and your nostrils were immediately filled with the characteristic smell of gingerbread cookies, the house was fully decorated with lights in a romantic setting.

"Santiago, what's all this?" You chuckled as you took of your coat and saw all the decorations and all the effort he made for your early Christmas celebration, although your attention quickly went to the beautiful cookie house.” Amor, this is absolutely stunning! Did you make all of this?"

Santiago scratched the back of his head and immediately blushed when you asked him what he most dreaded knowing you would tease him about it "Well, I tried. But, uh, not exactly…"

"Not exactly? What happened, Chef Santiago? Did the cookies rebel against your culinary skills?" You teased him while hugging him by the waist earning a playful roll of eyes from him

"It was a slight… mishap in the kitchen. They got a bit too crispy." Santiago said sheepishly as he caressed your cheek softly.

"So, you're telling me this marvelous creation is the result of an 'oopsie' in the oven?"

Santiago chuckled at your words and shrugged a little "I might have underestimated the timer a tad."

“It’s okay, honey, thanks for the effort anyways and thanks to “Mr Wilton ready to build” for saving the day” you laughed softly taking a look once again at the pre built gingerbread house kit at the table

“Merry Christmas Santi”

"Sort of Merry Christmas, corazón" he chuckled and gave you a chaste kiss on your lips.

As the evening unfolded, giggles and warmth filled the room as you and Santiago enjoyed the store-bought cookie house, relishing the imperfectly perfect moment and the thoughtful gesture that embodied Santiago's love for you.

Fic Masterlist

General Masterlist

[one-winged-dreams]

Holy Flame's Gift (or whatever the fuck it's called)

ship: adri x leslie kyle, fm: adri & chocobo sam source: final fantasy vii word count: 1768

UHHH. UHHHHH. Christmas is in like three days and I'm NOT anticipating that shit lmfao, breaking in the new boy with trauma venting.

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitoslittlebird @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @sosoftandsweet @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships @kylars-princess

Leslie had been present for what was possibly, if the timeline matched up, the beginning of Adri's spiral. Hanging around at the bar after hours, waiting for him to finish up and clock out, it had presumably all started with a conversation with his manager.

"Oh yeah, holidays are about to end. I'm gonna need you to put something festive together for the remaining week, think you can do that?"

Linda's request was reasonable enough, all things considered. It wouldn't be an unfair assumption to say that the usual patrons would get a kick or two out of some cheeky holiday spirit. The thought had Leslie's eyes rolling, but he clearly wasn't the only one with a less-than-enthusiastic response.

"N-No. No, that's stupid. I'm not gonna do that," Adri muttered, his air of confidence having plummeted to something mopey.

A perfectly drawn-on eyebrow raised as Linda regarded him.

"Uh, I'm kinda gonna have to insist. You're gonna clash with everyone else if you don't."

"NO!" the way Adri snapped startled both Linda and Leslie, though the latter was lingering near the back, pretending he wasn't listening.

"Geez, what's your damage tonight?" Linda made a point of rubbing her ear.

Adri's gaze burned, something that was hardly ever over something unwarranted.

"I'm not dressing for the STUPID FUCKING holidays, I'll call out if I need to. FUCK! Fucking ridiculous…" Adri trailed off with a mutter, grabbing his coat and making his way towards the exit without so much as closing his conversation OR addressing Leslie.

Linda and Leslie gave each other a look, both of their expressions an admission of ignorance. Leslie took this opportunity to take his leave and, upon exiting the bar, noticed that Adri was nowhere to be found. He huffed, shrugging to himself and taking this as to assume that Adri probably needed time to cool down. After all, he sure as hell wasn't getting mixed up in his personal business if Adri didn't want him to.

This had, again, presumably, led to the situation that Leslie currently faced.

It was a stupid notion in retrospect, he probably should have considered if a holiday gift was something within the realm of their dynamic. They had presented each other with little materialistic things before, but it had always been less ceremoniously. Obligation holidays were just that - an obligation.

But he had ignorantly figured that something USEFUL would circumvent the awkwardness of holiday obligation. It was nothing extravagant, nothing that even Leslie knew would be awkward to receive. Just a replacement for the more than worn tote bag that Adri carried around. A heartfelt gesture but a practical one.

Adri was at Sam's when Leslie had offered it to him. He hadn't wrapped it or put it in a cute bag or something stupid like that, but there was at least a cute ribbon wrapped around the strap. Even THAT he was embarrassed of.

Eyes widening in surprise was expected, the hard swallowing of a contracted throat not so much.

"Leslie, you… Why?" Adri's voice wavered, and it was when his shoulders began to tremble that Leslie suspected he had fucked something up.

"I mean. You know. Just thought I'd get you something because… Yeah. 'Sides. You needed a new one, bad," he tried to play off the gesture, make it less personal and more casual.

Not that that seemed to help in the slightest, as tears started forming in Adri's eyes.

"I… You didn't… You didn't have to DO that. I don't- Just don't worry about it, I didn't need anything. I didn't-" A shaky breath, "I didn't know you were gonna get me something, I don't have anything to…"

Leslie's eyebrows furrowed. He had been utterly unprepared for THIS type of awkwardness.

"I mean, you don't have to return the favor or anything. I just wanted to get you something you needed, might as well do it now," was all he could really come up with to try and de-escalate.

Adri hiccuped, and Leslie realized it was to cover a sob. This sort of emotional reaction was extremely uncharacteristic, and it was utterly unclear what was the best course of action to take.

"Just- Just go return it, get your money back. I'll… I'll pay you the difference if you can't. Fuck, just- I'm going home," Adri valiantly attempted to keep his voice from cracking or wavering, ultimately prevailing until the last sentence. Seemingly humiliated by his outburst, he pushed past Leslie and flung the door open, letting it slam shut on its own.

"Feelin' like you fucked up a bit there, aren'tcha?"

The sound of Sam's voice reminded Leslie that he had been there the whole time, holding his arms out in exasperation as he turned to face him.

"I figured something awkward, I didn't know he was gonna blow his top," Leslie scoffed. He sounded irritable, but genuine concern rang clear despite his tone.

"You know how tempermental he is. But is it ever baseless?" Sam folded his arms, Leslie becoming aware that he was hinting at something.

The connection was clear, everything Sam and Adri himself had told Leslie lining up like puzzle pieces. Taking off his hat, Leslie ran his fingers back through his hair in exasperation.

"Even over just a stupid holiday present?" he sighed, realizing his anger wasn't directed at Adri, or Sam, or anyone who didn't live ABOVE the plate.

Sam only responded with a nod and a hum of confirmation at first, but as he watched Leslie start to pace, he relented a bit more than he felt he should.

"When you've been raised the way he was, you start thinkin' everything's a weapon to be used against you. Even from the people that you love. Hell, maybe even especially."

Suddenly pensive, Leslie looked at the tote, the ribbon he had needed someone to teach him to tie into a cute bow now difficult for even him to look at.

"Fuck…" he sighed, shoving his hat back on his head. A moment of contemplation produced another sigh, and it was his turn now to walk away without closing the conversation.

When Adri opened the door, it was more than clear that he had been crying - hard. Leslie's presence seemed to startle him, a sniffle and a desperate swipe at his eyes being played off as if they were nothing. As if he were just greeting his boyfriend at the door.

"Oh, heyyyy. Did I forget something at Sam's?" Adri asked casually, not yet inviting Leslie in.

The latter tilted his head, gesturing.

"Uh, no, but can I come in? It's kinda cold out here…" he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, avoiding eye contact until he realized he was doing so.

"Uh," Adri started, pausing as his mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, "I mean, it's kind of a mess-"

"It's ALWAYS a mess. Either let me in or tell me to fuck off, just pick one please?"

The bluntness made Adri blink, his mouth staying shut for a moment before it was clear Leslie had made the right approach.

"Fine, since you're so desperate for my company."

The half-assed teasing and the way Adri opened the door to allow Leslie in was promising at least.

It was more than routine for Leslie to make himself at home, and things had eventually settled to the point where Adri was comfortable sitting next to him on the couch. But not before he was shifting around on his feet, trying to avoid it.

Now that he WASN'T, Leslie leaned back into the cushions, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

"It doesn't have to be a present," as he spoke, he elicited a jolt from Adri.

"I mean… You still didn't have to. I know I freaked the fuck out back there, but…" Adri punctuated by biting his lip.

"You're fine, I get it. You don't gotta apologize to me for that kinda stuff. I thought you knew that."

Adri's head turned to look at him, Leslie's eyes still closed and his arms resting on the edge of the couch. Utterly casual.

"Well I feel shitty about it, maybe I want to apologize anyway. Maybe it'll make me feel better."

Now Leslie's eyes opened, lifting his head and staring pointedly.

"So you're telling me even if you don't have to do something, you can just want to anyway. Is that it?"

A moment of ignorance ticked by as Adri's eyebrows furrowed, followed by the return of his opening and closing mouth as realization dawned on him.

"You-!"

"Listen. I'm not telling you you have to accept anything from me. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop. But I don't owe you anything, and you don't owe ME anything. Ever. You know I'm not gonna hold anything over your head, right?" Leslie leaned forward now, forcefully reaching over and grabbing one of Adri's hands. "Never. You don't have to put up with that shit anymore. Just… Trust me. Okay?"

The tears flowed once more, no surprise this time. They welled in Adri's eyes, and though he didn't let go of Leslie's hand, he began to desperately swipe at them again.

"Goddammit…! Did you put that together yourself or did Sam open his big fucking mouth again?" Hiccuping a sob again, he suddenly threw himself into Leslie's chest. Leslie choked for a second, releasing Adri's hand to hold his arms up before they inevitably wrapped around him. Beating him to words, Adri followed up weepily, "Fuck it, it doesn't matter."

Responding only with silence, Leslie just regarded the crying mess. The way their dynamic had subtly shifted throughout their acquaintance was… Staggering. After being relentlessly pursued by this flirtatious disaster, Adri lying against him, crying in an open display of emotional vulnerability, had Leslie wondering how he had gotten so comfortable with this. How this had become a natural occurrence, for both of them, even. He looked over at the bag, lying on the ground where he had shed it without Adri noticing.

"I love it, Leslie. Thanks."

Leslie was almost startled at that moment, blinking wildly as his gaze returned to Adri. Adri who lay against his chest, eyes closed and a teary smile adorning his lips.

"That's… good. I tried to fit your tastes. Your non-trashy ones, at least."

"You're sweet. I'll have to get you something cute in return."

"You don't-"

"But first, I think I'll give you something to hold you over until I do. It's already wrapped and everything. You should take care of that."

Leslie could only sigh.

[accio-sriracha]

Because I have way too much time on my hands: I have written down the names, the word count so far, and the summary of my wips in order of ships!!

Dear god there are so many... this isn't even all of them, just the ones cohesive enough to add to the list...

Don't even get me started on the ONESHOTS IN MY DRAFTS.

Anyways, enjoy! This is the cause of my suffering <3

(Fics below the cut)

JEGULUS

If It Were You, It Would Be Us

A Jegulus Alternate Timeline where the Black Brothers switch places (10k so far)

The Play

Muggle High School AU. Stage hand Regulus and Lead Actor James find themselves in a secret relationship. (2k)

Chasing Stars

James gets hurt and Regulus refuses to leave his side until he's better. They fall in love along the way. (4k)

One Black Coffee (And One Regulus Black Too)

Classic Jegulus Coffee Shop AU (50)

Once Upon A Time

James and Regulus tell their kids a bedtime story about two wizards who fall in love. (700)

My Brother's Best Friend

Muggle AU. Regulus finds himself falling deeper than he should for his brother's best friend. (1k)

Who I Am (Is In Love With You)

James decides to do everything in his power to save Regulus. Including falling in love. (100)

Love Hard, Die Young

A story of secret whirlwind romance and, less fondly, death. (80)

A Good Memory

The Marauders teach Regulus to cast a patronus. The animal that appears is a shock to them all. (200)

WOLFSTAR

If We Should Fall

Sirius sets up a grand party for Remus' birthday, but nothing seems to go to plan. (2k)

How to Prank Sirius Black

Remus gives Sirius a taste of his own medicine. (5k)

The Summer We Fell

The Marauders spend summer at the Potter's. Remus and Sirius struggle to share their feelings, James is oblivious, and Peter thinks they're all morons. (4k)

XOXO- Moony <3

A texting fic, complete with way too many group chats, Wolfstar falling in love, and background Jegulus. (2k)

Catching Feelings

Wolfstar pretends to date as a part of a bet, then actually fall in love. James is oblivious as always. (6k)

Moonlight Miricles

Literally just the movie 'A Walk to Remember' but make it Wolfstar. Rebel Sirius Black and quiet reverend's son Remus Lupin fall in love. (5k)

In Your Shoes

A polyjuice prank gone completely off the rails. (400)

A Tale From The Beast Himself

Remus Lupin tells the story of Sirius Black. (40)

The Intamacy of Being Understood

Nobody knows anybody the way Sirius knows Remus. Except... maybe the way Remus knows him too. (Slowburn and LOTS of pining) (500)

Silence

Remus Lupin is the type to go quiet when he's angry. If there's anything that scares Sirius shitless: it's silence. (600)

Revenge

(TW: Sexual assault) After finding out what Mulciber had done to Remus, Sirius decides to teach him a lesson. (10k)

The Last I Love You, The First Goodbye

Sometimes actions aren't enough, sometimes you need to brave it all and tell someone how you feel. Well sometimes, Remus Lupin was too much of a coward. (1k)

DRARRY

Lovesick

An amortentia mishap causes chaos, Draco Malfoy is the only one unaffected, helping Harry hide until the potion wears off. After a while, they start to realise why Draco hadn't changed. (200)

Part of The Family

Christmas Drarry where Draco receives a Weasley Sweater for the first time and Harry asks a big question. (50)

Wounds That Heal Us

Post-war Harry caught up in memories of everything that happened, luckily Draco is there to snap him out of it. (50)

Changes

Auror Harry Potter is convinced he's overcome everything life could throw at him. Until he comes face to face with Draco Malfoy for the first time since the war. (30)

Empty Promises

Head Auror Potter finds Draco Malfoy in very bad condition. Unsure if he'll make it through the week, Harry throws caution to the wind as he searches for the cure to save him. (3k)

Falling Into Memories

Draco Malfoy wakes up not knowing who he is. The only thing he can remember is his name. Eventually another comes to him: Harry Potter. (4k)

The Scars Kept Hidden

Harry Potter struggles to find his place after the war. Draco Malfoy notices and attempts to show him he's not alone. (13k)

Fiendfyre

The fiendfyre incident from Draco Malfoy's POV. (1k)

Professors

Drarry as Hogwarts Professors. (7k)

Everything I'm Not

Draco Malfoy hates Ginny Weasley. Maybe it's just because she's with Potter, but probably not. (6k)

Six Feet Deep

If ten years of bickering with Malfoy had taught Harry anything, it's that some people wouldn't know kindness if it hit them in the fucking face. So here they were, fighting, again. But neither of them would have it any other way. (300)

JILY

Finally

James and Lily have been named Head Boy and Girl. Lily soon finds James isn't that terrible to be around after all. (6k)

NO MAJOR SHIP/ MULTIPLE SHIPS

The Marauders and Lily Evans

A look into the life of Lily Evans and her best friends: The Marauders. (700)

Life after Death

Harry Potter actually dies during the war. (2k)

Marauder Ever After

Marauder Fairytale AU. They need to work as a team to survive the enchanted woods, some even find love along the way. (Wolfstar, Jegulus, Marylily, Dorlene, Fralice, & Peter <3) (4k)

The Words You Spoke (And The Ones You Didn't)

A collection of moments from each character, sharing the things they said, and the things they didn't. (Wolfstar, Jegulus, Marylily, & Peter <3) (3k)

Fated Misunderstandings

Wrong Number Texting AU, but instead it's James and Sirius becoming best friends and introducing each other to the loves of their lives. (Jegulus and Wolfstar <3) (1k)

Pretend to Love Me

Sirius and James being Jealous over Remus and Regulus. So, naturally, they pretend to date. (1k)

The Roadtrip

The Marauders take a roadtrip. James drags Regulus, Remus, Sirius, and Peter along for the ride of their lives. (Jegulily & Wolfstar <3) (500)

The GOOD Brother

Regulus survives the cave and comes to Hogwarts to become a teacher. Things take a turn when Sirius breaks out of Azkaban. (300)

Where The Lines Blur

WTLB is a huge Marauders era Muggle University/ Coffee Shop AU. (Wolfstar, Fralice, Dorlene, Marylily, Jegulus, Rosekiller, Pandora and Xeno, and baby Neville <3) (8k so far)

The Stars in Your Name

Modern Muggle AU, the Black Brothers leave home and live in a small farm town. Sirius falls for the farmer's son, and Regulus falls for Sirius' newfound best friend. (200)

[bilbosmom-belladonna]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

Thank you for the tag @insertmeaningfulusername! Sorry it took me so long, I was... well, I was adding more fics to my total 😂

1.) How many works do you have on ao3?

8 (hi, I'm new here)

2.) What’s your ao3 word count?

116,779

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

Currently I'm writing for Star Wars and Stranger Things. But who knows where the wind may take me!

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Maybe 10% Better, Stranger Things (Steddie)

Trying to Escape What You Can't Let Go, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (genfic)

Plans, Star Wars: Rebels (Kalluzeb)

Less Talk More Rokk, Stranger Things (Steddie)

A Flimsi Excuse, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Fox/Quinlan Vos)

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely! I love hearing from people and I love the chance to expand on my thought process during writing. It's like people showing up on my doorstep asking for a live director's cut interview (in the best way). I could talk about that stuff for aaaages.

6.) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would have to be my Jangobi fic A Mandalorian Comes Riding, which is tagged Major Character Death for a reason! Which is funny because I rarely read stories like that but... I wrote one?

7.) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, there are more than one. For Star Wars it's Trying to Escape What You Can't Let Go, and for Stranger Things/Steddie it's either Maybe 10% Better or my schmoopy Christmas fic, Our Kind of Advent.

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

Uh, not yet?

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do! Though I haven't published any yet; stay tuned for January.

10.) Do you write cross overs? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, I only write dumb crossovers in my brain. They never have a plot, it's just me going "wouldn't it be cool if..." and then agreeing with myself that it would, indeed, be cool.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge...

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, but I am open to it!

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I have not! To be honest I have no idea how cowriting works in a practical sense and I don't know if I would actually enjoy it.

14.) What’s your all time favourite ship?

I have never been an OTP kind of gal, so I won't commit myself. I am changeable, like the tides.

15.) What’s a WIP you’d like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I'm pretty new to writing fic so I don't have a mountain of WIPs (yet?) but I have a Foxiyo fake-marriage fic that I kind of over-plotted in the outline and now my brain doesn't want to sit down and actually write the story. Maybe one day when I've forgotten enough about it I will get back to it.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I think I am pretty darn good at writing dialogue in general and banter specifically. I love a flirty and/or teasing conversation.

16.) What are your writing weaknesses?

I feel like I have to work very hard to remind myself to include descriptions of places. And like, metaphors. I don't really do a lot of metaphors.

17.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've only done a smattering of Mando'a so far, but I'm open to it! I speak French so that's an option, though I don't see it coming up much in the fandoms I currently write in.

18.) First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars: Rebels; I wrote Plans in 2018 and then just yeeted it into the sun and ran away. Took me until 2023 to start "really" writing.

19.) Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm very proud of Meet in the Middle, the RexObi fic that kind of felt like it came to me in a fever dream and expelled itself from my body without my input. It's kind of a strange little story but I like that it's a weirdo.

No pressure tagging @sexysmeagolshitposting @sankt-jesper @brooks-skirata (hiii!)

[godscobhhq]

Lock from The Nightmare Before Christmas

Name: Lorcan Kane Age: 26 Profession: Blackjack Dealer at Snake Eyes Pronouns: He/They FC suggestions: Rome Flynn, Ross Butler, Face claim: Ryan Potter Availability: Taken

The streets of Godscobh were not kind to Lorcan growing up, but frankly, he wasn't very kind in return. His parents were strictly Catholic, which Lorcan resisted at every turn, going as far as to spook his mother with devil drawings and costumes whenever he could. Authority and Lorcan did not mix well, resulting in increasing detentions, suspensions, and a trip to juvenile detention hall when he was only 15 for all his acts of truancy and vandalism. And no matter how his parents tried to control him, Lorcan would always find a way to rebel against whatever BS rules they made up for him.

Now, despite what one might think when looking at his juvie record, Lorcan actually had quite the mind for mathematics and systems - he just hated the structure of school. With a little help from his parole officer in high school, he was actually able to graduate a semester early. College was never going to be in the cards for him, but he loved getting his independence as fast as humanly possible (and his parents were glad to be rid of their devil child). The very second he turned 18, Lorcan bid goodbye to any of his familial connections with his middle fingers held high, never to see them again.

The job market in Godscobh has never been great, so Lorcan did have to lie and cheat his way into a few gigs to make money when he first got his freedom. Watering down vodka in the back rooms of bars, swiping restaurant tips off tables, and even a few short stints dealing pixie dust. It wasn't until Lorcan was old enough to get into gambling halls that he started making bank counting cards. He got away with the tricks he could pull at the card games for about 2-3 months, until he was pulled aside by the security guards one fateful evening.

Lorcan thought the good ride he'd had was going to be over, but instead he was offered a job - deal the cards himself, make sure the house always wins, and he gets an itty-bitty cut of the evening profits. He wasn't given much of a choice in the matter, considering the alternative was to get his kneecaps broken, so he accepted. Lorcan's got a mind on him that very few know about, but over the years they've worked together, the Boogie Man has shaped and guided those skills in ways Lorcan never would've expected. He's been working for Oberron for almost 6 years now, and if Lorcan's not careful, he might be entrusted with a lot more of the underbelly's responsibility to keep the town covered in filth.

Notable character information: Lorcan is part of Boogie's Boys, a fearsome gang to rival the Lost Boys & Godscobh Gators.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Your turn, Captain Hands: 🌄, 👀, 🧸

Dude.

You know I am super fucking indecisive and you are gonna make me choose *a* favorite scene in BL?!

ONE?!?!

When there's every crying scene in The Eclipse? When there is the Alan, Wen, Jim fight scene or the Heart confrontation scene in Moonlight Chicken, when there is the four minute continuous shot in Old Fashioned Cupcake, or the eight minute continuous shot in My Tooth, Your Love?! When there is the Bad Buddy rooftop scene, and the He's Coming to Me rooftop scene? When there is fight scene after fight scene in 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us? The gay boy cuddle pile in I Promised You The Moon? When there's the "i'm hungry" scene in KinnPorsche? The cigarette kiss in Only Friends, the "I know you're hurting" scene or the "are you half-assing the homosexual lifestyle?" scene in What Did You Eat Yesterday? When there is the Christmas episode of Our Dining Table?

You want me...to pick...ONE?!

Fine.

🌄

Favorite Scene in a BL

I Told Sunset About You, Episode 3. The smelling scene, (I am assuming like the other one that this gif is misattributed to Nini and is actually from @liyazaki)

This scene short-circuited my brain, changed my DNA, altered me at a cellular level. You got my messages about this scene, Benjamin. You know it made me tear at the curtains and eat the wallpaper. You know I spent hours just staring up at the ceiling. I watched this scene four times in a row and cried every time. I was transfixed. I barely breathed. The power, the magnetism, the pull. The way the tension builds, the lack of music, silence only interrupted by the sound of their breathing. The promised of how this could have progressed, if Teh didn't feel for breasts that weren't there. If Teh didn't slam a door down on his desire. You know I eat that shit for breakfast, that type of internal fight. That fight against what you want, what you need, what you crave. Teh can't accept quite yet what his feelings for Oh are, even as he is so clearly intrigued, drunk on Oh's scent, in love. Talk about power.

👀

What do you think about love triangles in BLs?

I think to be a love-triangle there has to be a level of uncertainty as to who the main character is going to end up with. As such, I think there are honestly very few love triangles in BL, and even fewer that are well executed. I think the majority of "love triangles" I see in BLs tend to be unrequited loves rather than a love triangle. I feel like usually the main couple is never really interested in the side character that is pursuing them. I think I can probably count on one hand the number of actual love triangles in BL.

Oh, Bas, Teh

Neo, Miw, Shin

Tony, Jean, Kat

and let me throw in a non-traditional one: Wang, Sawsimol, and Inthawut.

While I do think that Bas is kind of a victim of the narrative, and I didn't see a relationship between Bas and Oh going anywhere, based very much on how much Teh and Oh were both drawn to each other and capable of hurting each other. But Oh tried it, and I think Oh would have continued to try with Bas for quite some time.

Tony, Jean, and Kat was not a love triangle I particularly cared about, but I appreciated that there was just a casual inclusion of a character being attracted to multiple people, and engaging in physical intimacy with both people, having that attraction be confirmed by both people but still being rejected by Jean and then pursuing Kat.

I think Jojo knows what the fuck he is doing with love triangles #neohastwohands

🧸

Friends to Lovers or Enemies to Lovers?

Enemies to lovers all day, every day.

It's about the sexual tension! It's about the endless pursuit of one another! It's about the emotional complexity! It's about being doomed by the narrative, or rebelling against the narrative, or being changed for the better or the worse! It's about the seeing the worst parts, the broken parts, the angry, and hurt, and monstrous parts of people and loving them anyway. Enemies to lovers feels so queer to me, in the same way that loving Halloween feels so queer to me, in the same way that stories about monsters feels queer to me. It's something about being seen as inherently bad, irredeemable, villainous, or sinful, and being gifted love despite.

BL ask box game

[ofstoriesandstardust]

i know the end

a/n: i wrote this months ago while i had covid and then forgot about it and rediscovered recently. if it sucks blame covid brain. also, this piece is told backwards which was an interesting style to write in! anyways, no one will probably read this, but whatever

like father, like father daughter

summary: Rebel's breaking point.

warnings: angst, breakdowns, series of events is told backwards, swearing probably, unedited

word count: 1.6k

“No, I’m not afraid to disappear/the billboard said ‘the end is near’”

You thank the flight attendant as you show her your ticket, before picking up your duffel bag to walk down the boarding bridge. Forcing a smile at the other flight attendant waiting aboard, your eyes scan the small plane, searching for your seat. The plane fills with noise behind you as you get your bag shoved in one of the carry-on cubbies before sliding down into your seat. 

The holiday cheer can be felt all around you even as you’re quick to slip in your headphones. The cheer could be felt in every corner in the hustle and bustle of every packed airport you’d stepped foot in since your travel began three days ago in Illinois, to Penscaola, to Paris. Soon you’d feel that cheer in just four short hours when your plane landed in Germany. 

You’re sure you’ll feel it when you get to your new base tonight, the excitement of friends and family traveling the world to see their loved ones at the holidays. 

The ache in your chest had gotten worse the farther you had gotten from yours just 12 hours ago now, time zones abiding. 

You look out the window, the rainy weather smearing the glowing lights of the city. 

You think about what it would be like to be flying home to San Diego right now, taking a flight from Paris to Florida to San Diego. 

You think of what it would be like to go to the beach at night like you used to when this ache in your chest appeared, go for a night swim, feel the cold salt water against your skin, the burn in your eyes. You smile to yourself, as the Captain makes his announcements as you close your eyes, preparing for takeoff. 

The memories of Christmases long since passed, when you had your best friend and flyboy uncles and your Dad and a mother figure. When Christmas was full of warmth and light, bringing everyone together for maybe one time the whole year. 

You think of what it would be like to sleep in your own room, the warm covers comfortable against your body. Not like the itchy standard-issue blanket you’ll be sleeping under tonight at your new base. No, the good material, with soft sheets and the comfort and knowledge of being in your own home. Of being in a place that belonged to you. 

Maybe in this fantasy, your Dad was there. 

Or maybe not.

Maybe you could go for all the late night swims and sleep as late as you wanted under the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree in your room without the presence of the flyboys or your Dad or your Uncle Ice. 

No one to be mad at you for what you gave up to have a normal holiday, to sleep in a warm bed, to sleep under stars and skies that felt like home. No one to chide you for staying out all night, wind whipping in your wet hair as you drive through downtown with the windows down and come home at three in the morning. No one to tease you for sleeping till noon and ask how the Navy-ingrained habits disappeared so quickly. 

Your skin itched for that peace, for that belonging, that quiet and comfort. The quiet you existed in now was the loudest quiet you had ever heard, screaming as it begged you for something more. 

-

The Pensacola night air is warm and humid  as you step out of Slider's truck, your uncle grabbing your duffel from the back as you walk up the door. 

Ice is already waiting for you, having rearranged everything to fly over to Pensacola to meet you in your overnight layover. 

He gives you a soft smile even as you lack the energy to give him one in return, pulling you into a tight, firm hug. 

“I’m so sorry kiddo. I’m so sorry, I did everything I could.” He whispers into your hair. You shake your head, pulling away from him. 

“I just want to eat.” 

He sighs as you push the creaky screen door of Slider’s home open, walking through the living room where Friends is flickering in the background, the volume low as you settle in the kitchen. 

You didn’t even have a full night in Pensacola, your flight for Paris leaving at seven in the morning. You’d have time for a quick meal and a few hours of sleep if you were lucky, before Slider would be back delivering you to the airport. 

Slider sets a plate in front of you, a steaming dish of your favorite casserole from when you were little. It was Carole’s recipe, something she always made for you when your Dad left town. 

“Thanks.” 

It’s quiet for a while as you slowly eat, attempting to force yourself to enjoy what would be your last home cooked meal for who knows how long. You feel unable to fight off the quiet numb crawling up your spine, the meal just tasting cold and bland.

“So you must be glad to at least get out of the corn fields, huh?” 

You don’t say anything in response to Slider’s joke, chewing softly on your food. 

“Well, you know- I did hear something about you having a thing with one of those pilots from your squadron.” You force yourself to swallow around an ill-timed bite as Slider starts again. “The two of you going to write to each other while you’re away?”

You set your fork down, standing up from the table. “I’m full. Thanks for dinner, Sli.” 

“Kid-” Ice says, but you’re already slipping up the steps leading to the guest room. 

-

Comet’s fingers are running through your hair as you stare up at the ceiling. Out of your periphery, you can see the glint of his dog tags in the moonlight. 

“Do you ever think you’re disappointing your parents?” 

The words are quiet and soft as his fingers keep moving even as he hums, acknowledging your question. 

The weight of your new orders sit heavy, and so had the boarding pass in the envelope you’d gotten this evening. 

His fingers feel heavy in your hair, the weight of your words crushing you. 

“I don’t know how I could.” 

And for Comet, whose real name was James, that was probably true. Growing up as the oldest of six in a low-class family in a small, rural Mississippi town, joining the Navy and becoming a decorated pilot was probably more than his parents had ever dreamed possible for him. 

“They wouldn’t be disappointed if you decided to leave this all behind?” 

James, who had a mother and father who loved him. 

James, who had three sisters and two little brothers who all looked up to him, marveled at him no matter what he did. 

James, who was happy and content, and was everything your family would want for you if you could force yourself to be content with it. 

James, who had no idea of your past, of your reputation. Of who you had once been. 

James, who had no idea it hurt every time the two of you had sex in ways you could never bring yourself to say aloud to him. 

James, who had never once forced you to label what the two of you were, even after the two of you had said those three words. 

James, who had been talking and was now looking at you in concern as he shifted himself up, pushing some of your hair away from your face. 

“-where did you go?” 

“We need to end this.”

Comet freezes, before anger flashes across his face, pushing himself off of what would no longer be your base bed come sunrise as he grabs his shirt from the floor. 

“How fucking dare you.” He spits, tugging the baby blue material over his head. “I mean- really, after all this, after this whole time you led me to believe this might actually mean something to you.”

“Comet-” 

“I’m not a fucking moron, you know.” He says, grabbing his pants off the floor, belt clanging as he does. “I know what they say about you. I know you live your life in fucking la la land, that you’ve been shutting me off since the first time we ever slept together-” 

“That’s because that’s all this was.” You insist, pushing yourself up to be propped up on one arm.

“I said I love you-”

“And you meant it?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

Comet’s nostrils flare. “You’re a fucking bitch.” 

You slump back down on the bed as Comet storms out, slamming the door behind him. You wince, wondering if someone on base is going to see him leaving, hear the brief exchange that had just occurred, but at this point-

It doesn’t really matter. 

What more could they do to punish you?

-

The cool December air of Illinois stings, the wind raging as you clutch your phone, pressing it to your ear. 

“Kid- do?” 

The call cuts in the middle of the word, delaying the sound of your Dad’s voice. 

In hindsight, it should've been a clear indicator that he’ll never hear what you have to say next. 

“Dad.” You cry. “Dad, I got new orders- they’re sending me to fucking Germany. Six days before Christmas.” 

You can hear your Dad try to say something, but it’s garbled and distant, nothing but static sounds. 

The tears stinging your eyes suddenly become unbearable as you all but collapse on a nearby bench. 

“I lied, Dad. I don’t- I don’t want to keep doing this. I’m not happy anymore. I haven’t been happy in so long. I feel fucking miserable, Dad. I want out. I want to run away and never come back. I’m so sorry, I know that I must be the biggest disappointment-” You hiccup, eyes stinging. “Please. I don’t want to do this.” 

The phone beeps as the call drops. 

Your stomach sinks, horror coursing through you, as the black screen stares back up at you.

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99

Alastor x OC

Warnings: violence and mentions of hell. Other Other that, just fluff bc I know Julia deserves it.

Helpless

Aponi stood in front of the small closet filled with only one or two dresses fit for the party that Charlie had planned for all the residents of the hotel.

Her favorite color was purple, which sometimes worked out well, but not in this case since her only formal purple dress had been ruined in drycleaning.

Aponi knew she shouldn't have trusted the sinner who ran it. He did nothing to hide the sleazy poker room in the back which stunk of alcohol and old man.

She huffed as she sat on the carpeted floor with a huff, her cat coming up to snuggle next to her.

"Hey, Lills can I use your makeup?" Mal asked as she burst into the room through the shared bathroom that the girls had. "The hell is wrong with you?" She asked.

"I can't find a dress," Aponi replied, her head resting on her knuckles.

"This is why I only wear dresses to shit that actually matters," Mal replied, gesturing to her emerald colored suit.

Aponi rolled her eyes. "You know I like dresses better, M," Aponi huffed.

Mal pursed her lips before walking back into her own room, coming back with a box.

"Was gonna save it for christmas or somethin but... here," she stated as she handed the dress to Aponi.

With a raised eyebrow, Aponi opened the box to reveal a pretty long lavender colored dress with a slit all the way up to the upper thigh.

"Holy shit Mal. How fid you afford this?" Aponi asked as she stood up and held the dress against her frame, looking at herself in the mirror.

Mal shrugged.

"Lotta threats," she replied. "Put it on, I'll be waiting outside of my room in the hallway," she stated before turning and closing the door to give Aponi some privacy.

Mal scrolled through her phone, attempting to pass the time as she waited for her best friend.

She glanced up haphazardly when she heard the door creek open, only to do a double take as she took in her best friend in the dress she had bought for her.

"Holy fuck. You look hot," Mal stated before shutting her mouth closed.

The dress framed Aponi's hourglass figure beautifully, almost having her breasts pop out from the low cleavage of the dress.

And don't event get Mal started on how the slit in the dress came up so high that if Aponi were to sit the wrong way, a person could see the underwear underneath (that aponi decided not to wear tonight)

Aponi chuckled with a soft smile.

"Thanks girlie. Cmon, let's go. Charlie said there was free food," Aponi stated with excitement, taking Mal's hand and guiding her to the lobby of the hotel.

Ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh (hey, hey, hey) I do, I do, I do, I do (hey, hey, hey) Hey (hey, hey) Ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh (hey, hey, hey) I do, I do, I do, I do (hey, hey, hey, hey) Boy, you got me helpless Look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit I'm helpless Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em

The hotel Lobby was bustling with party goers as they all drank, ate, and had fun.

A few of the men stopped what they were doing to ogle at both Aponi and Mal who walked down the stairs, talking to each other.

Mal sighed dreamily as she looked into Aponi's yellow eyes. She was basically Drowning.

I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight We were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night Laughin' at my sister as she's dazzling the room Then you walked in, and my heart went "boom"

Aponi nodded nervously as Mal went to make small talk with a few people she said had owed her money.

Aponi stood to the side of the room, not really sure who to interact with before turning to spot Mal in hopes she'd come back.

Only to snort at the way Mal had a sinner demon in a headlock.

Aponi's eyes glanced over the crowd before landing on the now opening front door, revealing the radio demon himself.

Aponi's eyes widened and her heart stopped as she saw him.

It's not like she hasn't met him before... I mean... he had been funding the hotel for a year now. But.... damn did he clean up nice for being a resident and overlord of Hell.

Tryin' to catch your eye from the side of the ballroom Everybody's dancin' and the band's top volume Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine Grab my sister and whisper, "Yo, this one's mine"

Aponi looked away as she noticed how his eyes briefly landed on her, but when she looked back up, he moved to talk with Charlie and vaggie.

The music was almost too loud to bear as everyone danced.

Aponi only calmed down from it when she felt a soft hand belonging to Mal touch her arm.

"Hey um... Mal.... could you talk to Alastor for me? Or... I dunno..... something," aponi pleaded as she looked at him helplessly.

Mal glanced over to the radio demon....

Lucky guy....

My sister made her way across the room to you (ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh) And I got nervous, thinking, "What's she gonna do" (ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh) She grabs you by the arm, I'm thinking "I'm through" (ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh) Then you look back at me, and suddenly I'm helpless

Mal took a deep breath and walked over to the Radio demon without saying a word.

Shit... aponi did not think this through.... of course he'd be more enamored by Mal than her! Mal was beautiful, violent, charming, cunning-

Her thoughts stopped being thought of when Alastor glanced at Aponi.

Shit.....

Those eyes definitely made her feel helpless.

Oh, look at those eyes, oh (look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit) I'm helpless, I know (down for the count and I'm drowning in 'em) I am so into you (Look into your eyes and the sky's the limit) I am so into you, I'm helpless (I know) I'm down for the count, and I'm drowning in 'em

Aponi walked over to the drinks, pouring herself a glass of water to cool herself off.

Was she really this whipped older a guy?

Where are you taking me? I'm about to change your life Then by all means, lead the way

"Where may I ask are you leading me?" Alastor asked as he walked next to Mal.

Mal rolled her eyes, jealous of the radio demon before speaking up.

"I'm about to change your death," she smirked as she lead him to where she saw Aponi walk to.

"Alright then! By all means, my dear, lead the way!" Alastor smiled happily.

Mal sighed as she led him right up to the woman she had been in love with since elementary school.

Elizabeth Schuyler, it's a pleasure to meet you Schuyler? My sister Thank you for all your service If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it I'll leave you to it

"Ah! The famous Aponi Wings!" Alastor exclaimed with a wide smile as he took her hand, kissing her knuckles.

"Yep. My best friend...." Mal stated, a pained expression on her face.

"Alastor! A pleasure as always, I assume?" Aponi smiled. "Thanks for helping put together the party! It looks wonderful!" Aponi stated.

"Ah yes. It was practically a war, trying to help these buffoons hang up a banner. But... if it takes fighting a war to see you again, it was worth it!" Alastor replied.

That was fucking smooth.... Mal thought to herself before speaking up.

"I'll leave you to it!" She smiled before walking away, trying not to cry.

One week later, I'm writin' a letter nightly Now my life gets better every letter that you write me Laughin' at my sister 'cause she wants to form a harem I'm just sayin', if you really loved me, you would share him (ha!)

A week after the party aponi bites her lip as she reads the letters Alastor had been sending her.

My dearest, Lilly

I cannot wait to see you next week, it has been a pleasure getting to know you better! My dear, you are the light in this darkness and I can only hope to be in your death forever.

Aponi sighed dreamily.

"Oh cmon! If he was really THAT much of a gentleman, he'd let me have a taste of you too!" Mal exclaimed.

Aponi giggled.

"Mal, cmon! Dont make those jokes I'm gonna laugh too hard!" Aponi exclaimed.

Mal's smile faded a but before before remembered to keep it up.

Two weeks later, in the living room stressin' My father's stone-faced while you ask him for his blessin' I'm dying inside as you wine and dine And I'm tryin' not to cry, 'cause there's nothing that your mind can't do (ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh)

Mal sighed as she sat on the couch in front of alastor.

"What do you need?" She asked.

"Well, given that you're Lilly's closest friend and only family who has any sort of 'authority' over her.. I had a question to ask," Alastor stated with a nervous smile.

Mal raised an eyebrow.

"May I marry her?" Alastor asked.

"You're asking me, the best friend of a deat 19 year old if she can marry you, a dead 30 something?" Mal asked in return.

"yes?" Alastor stated.

My father makes his way across the room to you (ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh) I panic for a second, thinking we're through (ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh) But then he shakes your hand and says, "Be true" (ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh) And you turn back to me smiling

Mal's heart broke at his words when he asked....

she wanted to scream "NO. YOU CANT MARRY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE YOU ASSHOLE!" but.. she knew it wouldn't bode well not only for herself, but for aponi.

Mal walked up to him, shaking his hand.

"Be true,"

It was all she said before walking away, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

........

Alastor knocked on the door of his Lilly's apartment.

"Oh, Hey honey," Aponi stated as she moved to the side to let her boyfriend into her apartment.

A few minutes were dedicated to Alastor ranting on and on about "fate", and "parties", and really anything that could both relate to the topic he was about to bring up, and procrastinate what he was about to ask.

"Alastor what are you saying?" Aponi asked, scared that he was about to break things off with her.

Only for him to get down on one knee.

"Marry me, Darling," Alastor stated. Ot even a question.

Not that ut had to be.

"Yes!" Aponi exclaimed as she jumped into his arms and hugged him.

Eliza, I don't have a dollar to my name An acre of land, a troop to command, a dollop of fame All I have is my honor, a tolerance for pain A couple of college credits and my top-notch brain Insane, your family brings out a different side of me Peggy confides in me Angelica tried to take a bite of me No stress, my love for you was never in doubt We'll get a little place in Harlem and we'll figure it outI've been livin' without a family since I was a child My father left, my mother died, I grew up buckwild But I'll never forget my mother's face, that was real As long as I'm alive, Eliza, swear to god you'll never feel so

"Darling, down here I barely have anything as wonderful as this.. as us... all I have is my honor, a love and tolerance for pain, and a wonderful mind!" He boated.

Aponi rolled her eyes as he put the ring onto her finger before taking her hands and looking into her eyes.

"You and your friends bring out a different side of me... Angel confides in me.. although I'm fairly sure Mal is in love with you... but don't stress about that. My love for you will never be I doubt! I have a little place where we can go and figure things out!" He exclaimed.

Aponi chuckled.

."I've been living without a family since I died.. my father abused my mother and I and left.. NY mother died just a few years after that. But I'll never forget my mother's face, it was real. As long as you have faith in my Lilly, I promise I will never make you feel so helpless," Alastor finished his speech before kissing Aponi.

I do, I do, I do, I do Eliza, I do, I do, I do, I do (helpless) I never felt so (helpless) Yeah, yeah Down for the count and I'm drownin' in 'em (I'm down for a count and I'm...) Yo, my live is gon' be fine 'cause Eliza's in it (helpless) I look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit, I'm (helpless) Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em In New York, you can be a new man In New York, you can be a new man In New York, you can be a new man (helpless)

"I do," Aponi smiled as she stood at the makeshift altar at the hotel.

"I do," alastor stated in return.

"I now pronounce you Husband and wife! You may kiss!" Charlie's father, lucifer himself spoke out as he closed the book.

Aponi looked into alastor's eyes before pulling him into a deep, joyful, innocent kiss, filled with love.