#the comment about chase having something wrong with him has nothing to do with sexuality foreman just wanted to mention it

[clockwards]

Foreman: we all know that thirteen is bisexual and that chase has something wrong with him, but i wonder if anyone else is gay

House: i am

Foreman: no you're not. if you were gay you would have slept with wilson years ago

House: i did

Foreman:

Foreman: you did not sleep with wilson

Foreman (vexed): you did NOT sleep with wilson

House:

Foreman: if you'd slept together, everything about your relationship would be insane-

House:

Foreman:

Foreman: oh my god you've slept with wilson

House:

Foreman:

House:

House: well not yet but your reaction is really making me think i should try

[slytherinstories]

Resisting You PT.2

Description: Mattheo Riddle a known player and flirt has his sights on you. You two couldn't be more opposite: him only wanting casual flings and you wanting a relationship. Its a disaster when you start developing feelings and he finds out about them. You try everything in you to resist giving in to him knowing he can't be what you want, but how long until your desire consumes you?

Make sure to read part one first! This is going to be a couple part series so be patient for the smut this is a bit of a slow burner. Follow for more stories and I am open for requests.

>>> PT.3

18+, angst, smut, manipulative mattheo

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Since your encounter in the library you have done everything to avoid Mattheo which is proving to be impossible since he is everywhere. The last few weeks have been absolute hell as despite your insistence you don't want a fling with him he hasn't left you alone. Since he found out you did in fact like him he has been nothing but smug and even though you didn't think it was possible his teasing has gotten worse. Unlike in the past when you wore your mask of indifference he sees straight through it now and you hate how he knows the effect he has on you. You can't even get through a class without him whispering something in your ear or touching you in subtle ways which leaves you thinking about him for days.

He knows it as well, that he has wormed his way into your mind, your gaze is drawn to him in every room and you swear he can read your thoughts sometimes. You don't know how he has turned you into this flustered mess every time he is around but you hate him for it. You hate how he plagues every waking moment with a desire you cant satiate. You used to wish to feel like this, how all your friends did with their boyfriends but now you would do anything to not need the one boy that could ruin your heart. You have never even craved someone sexually before so this is whole new territory a plunge into lust completely unfamiliar to you. You feel like you are drowning in his intoxicating energy. Masturbating only intensifies the feeling making you feel even more lonely and your thoughts stray back to his comment 'if you knew how I could make you feel you wouldn't be able to stay away from me.' Have you made the wrong decision?

If you didn't have feelings this would all be so much easier, you could sleep with him and be done with it, satisfying your body but you know it will never be as simple as that. Why can't it be though? Your body tries to find a loophole, any reason to let yourself have him. Everyone else has flings so why can't you? Then there is the flicker of hope even though you know its stupid that perhaps if you sleep with him he may eventually want more but as your past has taught you that is a recipe for heartbreak.

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Mattheo has always been determined but even Y/N is testing his strength. It has been 3 weeks now since the library. 3 fucking weeks and she still hasn't gave in. 3 weeks he has touched himself every day imagining her underneath him. Around her he has his usual cocky demeanor but little does she know how he can't get her out of his head. Not even just sexually either he has always desired her but since she has started avoiding him he misses her presence, the friendship they had. He doesn't get to see any more of those warm smiles directed at him or her inquisitive questions. He sees how much space she took up in his life and without her, he searches for anything to fill it.

She is clearly running from her feelings, putting as much distance between the two to try and forget him. He originally thought cornering her at every chance, whispering those dirty words into her ear would make her snap so she would come to him but it only seems to be driving her away more. He probably would have gave up by now, finding another girl to chase but there is something about her that he can't let go of.

His confidence starts to falter and his mind for the first time entertains the thought of what if she actually doesn't want me? What if I can't have her? Her one requirement was a relationship he thinks about pretending he will try so he can sleep with her and be done with these incessant thoughts but he couldn't do that to her. Maybe another girl but not Y/N. Would dating her be so bad? He shakes his head at the thought inwardly squirming at the thought of someone depending on him.

Clearly he is getting no closer to his goal so maybe its time to switch things up. Give her a taste of her own medicine and see if she really doesn't want him.

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You settle into DADA already dreading the moment Mattheo arrives, having to sit in your assigned seat next to him. You wonder how he is going to taunt you today and you pray he goes easy on you as you are nearing your breaking point, not sure how much longer you can push down these feelings. They have swarmed your mind, taking away any logic to the point you are even considering just fucking him once to get him out your system. For fucks sake when did you start thinking like a boy.

You hear the door open and you turn around watching him walk in laughing with Theo and despite yourself you stare, as always captivated by his smile. He walks over and takes his seat not even glancing at you. Your brows furrow but you turn your attention back to your book. Waiting for snape in silence with him was torture, you clearly not used to this version of him as by now he would already be incessantly flirting. Your knee bounces under the table and you can't stop the words spilling out 'hey.'

He glances over to you 'Hi' he says bluntly. What is up with him. 'You okay?'

'Mhm' he looks back at his book doodling.

'You don't seem like yourself are you mad at me or something?'

'Why would I be mad at you?'

'I don't know your just...'

He looks over a dead look in his eye and raises his eyebrows 'I am what? Not flirting you wanted me to leave you alone didn't you?' There is no longer that playful gleam he has and it sends a pang right through your heart. Your mouth opens and closes not knowing what to say. He turns his attention back to his notebook and you turn facing the front of the class as snape walks in. The whole class he doesn't even look at you once and despite your prayers he would stop you are suddenly filled with an emptiness.

After the lesson finishes he goes over to some blonde girl in your year whispering in her ear causing her to giggle. They walk out flirting and you just stand there with your jaw dropped as Pansy walks over to you. 'What the hell was that about.'

'I... I dont know he didn't speak to me all lesson.' She sees the hurt in your eyes and links your arm taking you out of the class. You know you have no right to be annoyed you have been avoiding him and telling him to leave you alone for weeks. You don't know what is worse his undivided attention or lack of it. It feels wrong seeing it directed onto another girl especially after months of you being his sole focus but you guess he has finally gotten bored of the chase. A part of you screams mine, mine, mine, even when you know the soul crushing reality you are in where he will never be anybody's.

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For the rest of the week he is the exact same towards you, cutting you out of his life like you were nothing. The heartbreak threatens to keep you in bed but Pansy being the best friend refuses to see you like that. So you go through the motions every day with two states at war within you. There is still the festering desire, the pull to him and a need to experience just how 'good' he can make you feel, but there is also the part of you grieving, the realization you can never have him. Too many times you have entertained the thoughts of settling for sex its better to have any piece of him then this nothingness, not even friendship. At least you would still have his attention but you would fear the day he decides to drop you for a new conquest. You were so close to giving in but now it seems he doesn't even want you anymore and your pride will not have you begging. You refuse to chase another boy, the walls you have built up to avoid vulnerability thankfully stop you from acting on your destructive choices.

Avoiding your friend group at the off chance of seeing Mattheo with some girl on his lap you venture to other parts of the castle like the astronomy tower. You sit looking at the view of course thinking about him and are startled when you hear someone walk up. You turn around and breathe a sigh of relief seeing Theo.

'Hey you long time no see.'

I smile softly 'Hey Theo sorry just been busy.'

He walks over taking a seat next to me on the ledge 'Nah I don't buy that.'

'Huh?'

'You are avoiding us or someone actually' he raises his eyebrows knowingly. For someone so ditzy he has always been far too observational for my liking. Mattheo is his best friend though I guess. 'What the fuck happened between you two' He says pulling out a joint to smoke.

'Who' you ask weakly looking drained.

'Come on don't give me that I know there was something going on between you two I have only got half the story from him.'

You sigh 'Y/N you can barely be in the same room as him for two seconds.'

'I don't know Theo it's all just so fucked' he offers you the joint and you shake your head.

'You like him yeah?'

You nod 'so what's the problem then?'

'I like him but he doesn't like me back he just want's a fling or something casual and I know I will just end up with my heart broke so I am not even going there.'

He nods 'yeah he told me as much, you were fine for weeks though why aren't you talking?'

'That's what I don't get out of nowhere he just ignores me and is all over that fucking blonde girl' you scrunch your nose in disgust 'guess he got bored of me.'

He snorts 'Ah it makes sense now' he exhales the smoke and you wait for him to carry on 'he isn't bored of you love trust me, he likes you more then he is letting on.'

'It doesn't seem like it he hasn't even looked at me.'

He stares at me for awhile contemplating something 'Promise you won't tell him I told you this he will kill me' you nod your head in confirmation 'he said something about giving you a taste of your own medicine he is probably just trying to get your attention another way trust me I have tried it plenty of times.'

'Wait what?'

'Trust me he isn't done with you yet I have never seen him this obsessed and he wouldn't just let go of you that easily.'

'That bastard' you say causing Theo to chuckle. 'Right I will leave you to it' he says seeing you deep in thought 'promise you wont let him push you away though I have missed you' he nudges your shoulder.

'I know I wont, thanks Theo.'

'You coming the party tonight? You best be.'

'Mhm Pansy is forcing me either way' you laugh. 'I will see you there.'

'Bye Doll' he says going back, leaving you to your thoughts. You would have never seen through his little act, when he wants to act cold he is fucking good at it. You can't help the thrill that goes through you at the thought he isn't done with you completely but at the same time it doesn't change anything. One thing it has brought you clarity on is that you love him chasing you, despite your protests you looked forward to his flirting and attention. It was intense and disorientating half of you craving him the other half doing what you thought was right. You have so many self imposed rules you would have never dared to break but what if instead of fighting the waves you let yourself be submerged in them. What if you indulged in all you have been uselessly holding yourself back from. You have always been too self disciplined, too restrained. Fun is a foreign words to you and perhaps he could be the awakening to life beyond rules.

You have always been competitive, now its time to beat him at his own game. Two can play at that Matty.

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You sit at the party with a new found energy and confidence in you. You sit with the group not caring about whatever girl he decides to drag over tonight. Unlike the last week when the hurt was evident all over your face you have an unbothered aura, not even giving him the attention of a glance. He must have sensed the difference because you feel his gaze all over you. You are drinking a bit more then usual which you attribute to your new mindset and mostly the nerves. You look around at the table in front of you and frown as all the bottles are empty. You ask the boys if they have any alcohol left and they shake their head. 'Shit that was all we had how have we drank it all' Theo complains.

'Probably Y/N' Mattheo adds in angrily 'She has drank near enough a whole bottle to herself.'

'Excuse me I am sharing with Pansy' you cross your arms glaring at him.

'Yeah and you shouldn't be drinking that much as it is' you just roll your eyes at him.

Draco looks around the room seeing the Gryffindor's with plenty bottles to spare 'fuck sake of course they have some like they will give us any.'

Of course being the only single girl in the group everyone's head turns to you 'What?' you ask. 'But they might give it to you Y/N' Draco implies. I choke out a laugh 'You want me to go steal their drinks?'

'Come on you know Cormac has always had a thing for you I am sure he will be more then willing to share' Theo chuckles.

'Only if you are comfortable Y/N' Blaise ever the gentleman adds.

'No fucking way she isn't flirting with that creep so you can have some drinks' Mattheo says angrily.

Annoyance runs through you not wanting to listen to Mattheo, and you realize this could perfectly work for your plan. 'No I want to I don't mind him and I am not sitting here sober all night'

'Atta girl' Theo says as Mattheo goes to protest 'Y/N!' But you walk off ignoring him.

You walk over to were the Gryffindors are sat and they all look over Cormac beaming brightly 'Y/N hey!'

'Hey Cormac how are you?' You sit next to him smiling. You aren't the best at flirting but you hope the fact he likes you will be enough.

'I am very good even better now, so what brings you over here?'

'Well we have run out of drinks and I happened to see you have a few bottles over here you wouldn't mind sharing a few would you?' you give him your best doe eyed look.

'Let me guess for your Slytherin friends, I would be happy to give you some but they don't deserve any' he glares over at them. You touch his arm gently 'I know they can be dickheads but just think of doing it for me' you pull out your sweetest smile 'please Cormac I would owe you one.'

He smiles at you and you know you have won him over 'Fine but you owe me yeah? How about you repay me with a date?'

Cormac isn't that bad he gets a bit of a bad credit but he has never been pushy with you so you just pretend in your head like you are going out with a friend. You obviously aren't interested but you know how disappointed they will be if you go back with nothing. 'I don't know about a date but how about we go for coffee to start with?' He looks a bit disappointed but still smiles 'Okay sure, take as much as you need' he points to the table. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him in for a hug 'you are the best thank you.' You take two bottles of firewhisky 'I will catch up with you later bye' you say running off.

You wave the bottles as you walk over to the group and Theo picks you up in a hug 'that's our girl' you giggle and pour yourself a drink. You notice Mattheo raging and a thrill goes through you at the look in his eyes. 'So what did you have to promise him' Pansy asks knowing him well 'Erm nothing he just gave me them' you say lying but she knows straight away. 'You liar tell me.'

You roll your eyes 'just coffee but I would have went anyway.' She laughs 'well thanks we owe you one now.'

You sit talking and laughing almost forgetting about Mattheo. You announce you are going the toilet and you make your way to them before someone grabs your wrist pulling you to face them. Of course it is him.

'What are you doing?' You say a bit startled.

'What the fuck was that what do you think your doing with Cormac?'

You try pulling your wrist back but he pushes you against the wall so you can't move. 'Mind your fucking business, what have you decided to talk to me today?'

He clenches his jaw 'Do you like him?'

'Seriously?'

'Do. You. Like. Him.' He says dangerously slow. You look away but he pulls your chin to face him and you grit out 'No I don't.'

'So you fucking promised him a date?'

'It isn't a date its coffee and what does it have to do with you?'

'You are not going I will tell him myself.'

'You can't tell me what to do, who...'

'Yes I can princess' He says interrupting you putting his hand around your throat softly which momentarily shuts you up. He smirks as you go quiet. 'I think you like me telling you what to do' he cocks his head staring down at you. A blush rises on your cheeks and you are just glad for the dark room.

'No I don't' you say but it sounds weaker then you intended. You push his chest trying to create space but he just moves closer his hand caressing your cheek and the other on your waist 'Still resisting me sweetheart?'

'Thought you were done with me anyway' you say trying to sound nonchalant but it came out more bitter.

He smirks 'you didn't like it did you? My attention not being yours, you can play hard to get all you want but I know you will always think of me.'

You glare at him 'Is that what that little stunt with Cormac was, and this little dress you trying to get my attention love?'

'You are so full of yourself not everything is about you!'

'Oh but I think it is' he plays with the hem of your dress 'It is all a sad little attempt to get me to think of you again isn't it.'

You snort 'Like you ever stopped.'

He smiles 'Mhm your quite right, you know I haven't been able to fuck another girl all I can think about is you' he says huskily.

You narrow your eyes 'your lying.'

'No love I am really not I fucking wish I was, I can't get you out of my head' He says seriously his head dropping down to yours. 'Now be honest' he tilts your face up until your noses are basically touching 'have you been thinking about me?'

Before thinking, the alcohol taking over 'yeah' you say seductively.

'I knew it I could see it in your eyes every time you looked at me. You know hard it was staying away from your pretty face.'

'Why did you then' you ask looking a bit hurt. 'You kept telling me to leave you alone so I thought I would see if you really wanted me to. I love a chase but you kicked my ego a bit there.'

'I missed you Matt' you hold his hand stroking your cheek and he rests his forehead against your, eyes closed. 'I know gorgeous I missed you too, you really think I would let you go that easy?' He chuckles wickedly.

'Why do I still want you so much its not fair Matt why can't you like me back then you could have me.'

'Fucks sake love, you know that isn't the issue I am never going to be the man you want I will eventually fuck things up anyway its best we just keep it casual.'

'You like me?' You ask bemused never even thinking that was a possibility. He laughs 'Isn't it obvious?'

'No Matt not really I thought it was only about sex for you.'

'Yeah, yeah it was but... I don't know its different with you I would have gave up a long fucking time ago if it weren't.'

You huff 'I don't get it then why can't we just date I am not asking for your hand in marriage I just don't want you to use me and throw me away when you are done.'

'It never would have been that. You are mine. Whether you like it or not.'

Your core tightened at those words but he doesn't have to know that. You huff 'I am not yours you don't just get to decide that. And how do I know you wont get bored and leave after you get what you want.'

'I could never get bored of you, trust me once I fuck you I am not letting go and you wont want anyone else.'

'I bet you say that to every girl.'

He groans 'You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.'

'I am not stubborn I just don't fall for your false promises.'

'You are never going to believe me, you really think I would do that to you just throw you away when I am satisfied?'

'You have done that to plenty other girls.'

'You are not other girls haven't I proved that. Yes I may have been a dick but I care about you I don't know what you have done but I feel things I shouldn't.'

You sigh also realizing that no matter how much he reassures you that he isn't just using you for your body you will never believe him. You can stand here going in circles but the only way you will find out is if you take the risk which is something your heart is terrified to do. You slowly start seeing it was never a fear of something casual but only being seen as an object, discarded after you served your purpose. You know he will never give you a relationship and your heart hurts at the fact you have to sacrifice that, but isn't it enough he likes you too? It kills you that he is scared for anything more but you see he is trying in his own way, offering you all he knows.

'What are you thinking love' he says looking tortured pulling you from your thoughts. He must see your walls crumbling as a gleam fills his eyes and he moves even closer if that was possible. You already know you have made up your mind but you aren't making it that easy for him.

You pull him in for a kiss which stuns him for a second before he brings one hand to your face and the other your waist pulling you flush against his chest. He deepens the kiss and your hands tangle in his hair causing a low moan to escape his mouth. It gets more and more passionate, his tongue swirling with yours until you pull away gasping for breathe. Why the fuck didn't you do that sooner.

'Your never getting away from me now' he says pulling you back in before pulling away and placing kisses down your neck as you flutter your eyes closed. You are so entangled in one another, weeks worth of desire being released you don't hear someone enter the corridor until you hear a loud cough. You pull away from Mattheo gasping but the grip on your waist remains firm. Across from you is Pansy and Theo smirking.

'So that is were you two went' she laughs 'I was getting worried.' You pull away from him completely attempting to smooth your hair down.

'Back at it again then' Theo raises his brows, Mattheo smirks and you mutter 'Shut up Theo' causing him to chuckle. Pansy your saving grace stopping you from going too fast says 'I am going to bed you coming?'

'Yeah lets go' you walk over to her quickly linking your arms.

'Y/N...'

'Night Matty, night Theo see you tomorrow' you say and quickly walk off with Pansy.

As you get to your room she squeals 'Girl fucking tell me everything now...'

[veintrry]

pre-show !

idol!scaramouche x gn!reader, reader has female genitalia, teasing, biting, sucking.

exact same fic different sexual genitals: f | m

ac: ??? (comment if you know!)

It was a somewhat difficult and draining thing to be dating someone in the performing industry. You had to witness your partner in tiring states, and you both has to give up a lot to make things work, but you two still continue to try and you could proudly say you are content where you are.

There's something that boosts your ego knowing that despite the thousands of people that are watching him, only you get all of him. Though, you hadn't missed how much more clingier he had grown to be, and that was made all the more evident with his rash behaviour this evening.

Here you stood in his room at the backstage area, awaiting his arrival before he had to get on stage. This had become somewhat of a ritual for you two, to see each other before a performance; You were there for each one, from when he was but an underground name till he had gained enough traction to be known merely by the title of 'The man who speaks with his eyes'.

Still, this fame did nothing to change your relationship, not in a personal way. It did affect your time schedules and you found yourself more concerned about him due to not wanting him to overwork himself knowing how difficult this industry may be, but other than that you two had stayed relatively the same and you both were happy with that, knowing that there was nothing wrong. Although, you'd be lying if you'd say you didn't feel a tad bit jealous when you hear others shamelessly complimenting him.

The sound of the door opening with a click brushes past your ears and before you could turn around to greet whoever it was you are pulled into a tight embrace and the door had already been closed, the lock snapping into place harshly.

A whine enters your ears as his head rests on the back of your shoulder, "I need you."

It isn't a question but a statement that he is aware you both must share, and it isn't uncommon to feel this way when it comes to one another, especially with how difficult things can be for him within the industry.

He lifts his head, placing his chin onto your shoulder as he tilts it to gaze up at you. "That damn manager held me up. I was getting my makeup and hair done and then they just decided to dump more information about our coming schedules too. Who do they think they are? And to tell me so abruptly too. They're wasting my time," He complains, and you notice the way his eyes narrow, glaring at the recollection as though the entire team had practically imprisoned him and kept him from what he desired.

You think he is overreacting a bit, but you'd be lying to say you didn't feel the same, and you'd be a bigger liar to say you don't like it.

"I could be staying with you instead." He finishes, relishing in your body warmth, inhaling your scent as though he had been addicted to it, to you, and what it did to him. He wanted you, badly.

You like the sound of that, and he might've - no, he definitely picked up on that - He wasn't dense, far from it. He knew his schedule must be exhausting for you. I mean, how could you ever survive this long without him? He should be more attentive to you.

A smirk found its way onto his lips and his hands began to trail from your stomach to your waist, rubbing on your sides as he hummed into your clothing. "We haven't gotten much time to ourselves recently, have we now?" His voice had the essence of honey, attempting to fool you with its sweetness despite your knowing of the venomous intent behind it. "You know you don't have time to be doing that, especially right now Scara." You say, cutting to the chase, and he almost sends you a disapproving whine.

"You know I don't like you calling me that." He lifts his weight off your shoulder, nearing the side of your ear, mouth too close to the outer shell as he whispers in that familiar deceiving tone, "Say my name." A thumb laps circles onto your stomach, patiently awaiting your reaction, timing you.

"You have to get on soon- '' You're spun around, an arm lacing around your back, fingers wrapping around your waist firmly pulling you closer to him, too close. "Say my name."

And you see the way he stares at you, demanding you, commanding you. Hell, if you didn't say it you were sure he was going to have it come out of you with his own methods. And despite how much you didn't want to admit it, you didn't mind that, either. You didn't want him to be late, but there was a good feeling about being the reason why he's late. Plus, you were curious, just how would he make you succumb to him this time? "Make me."

That was all he needed. Those two words were like the seal to break his restraints and give his all to you, as he always should've been. It was impressive the little time it took till his lips were crashing against yours, pleading for you, you didn't even blink.

Divine is how he always felt. The softness of his lips was always so passionate and demanding, yet always with that desperation tinged in and this dawn it was stronger than usual; He yearned for you. He wished to devour all of you.

You match his pace as best as you can but he doesn't wait for you, he doesn't want to, he wants you to feel the mess that this is, he wants to make this imperfect; It's almost like he wants you to make him a mess. It would be a sight to see for someone like him to go out looking like that, the public and news outlets would have a field day. But hey, more eyes on him right? And yet he only found himself wanting yours.

A hand crawls up your spine, his fingers feeling as though they are touching your bare skin through your clothing, leaving a cold trail that makes you arch your back with a yelp. They find home in your hair, entangling into it and pulling you deeper into him, wanting you to breathe him, take him, take all of him.

But you push away for a moment, hands on his torso. You need air, and you were aware he did too. Still, he did not care. He wouldn't waste this, waste this chance to rile you up, to show you who he wants to entertain is you. Who else would tolerate all of him the way you do? "Off," His voice was hoarse, deep breaths being taken and the desperation appeared to only grow. You glance up to meet the gaze that was already long planted onto you, savouring your reactions, the puffiness of your lips and the wrong you felt for doing this but the thrill you gained from it. "Take them off." He gestures to your pants with his eyes. "Scara-" You whined as you attempted to speak, though cutting yourself off realising your mistake.

You could see the state he was in and you having called him that probably didn't help. His hands departed from your waist, his chest pressed up against you as he reached for the zipper and the way he looked at you tells you that he didn't care about the aftermath or the possibility of being caught, you might even say he enjoyed it, your response to it. And his grimacing smirk widens at the thought. "I know you want it. I bet you'd love for me to have you bent over and fucked here." Your body appeared to squirm at his words, reminded that he knew you and your body more than you did. It was only natural he'd understand your cravings. "There's no need to deny it. I know."

He leaned his face in closer to you, your noses touching and you see those pretty lashes of him cover his eyes like a veil but you feel it, you feel his hunger and you witness its coming when he licks his top lip, the zipper of your pants slowly being inched down anticipatingly. You hated how he took his time, how he knew you were still focused on the time, how unconsciously your eyes would glance over to the clock hung up above the vanity desk, and you knew that he knew how despite all of this you still wanted him to not show up– to be late, unrefined, fucked up– all because of you. He liked you like that, when you were selfish.

You latch onto the hand on your jeans and push the zipper down completely, losing your patience. "And I thought you were eager to get started?" Now you reciprocate his cocky confidence as your half-lidded eyes encounter his, daring him to see how much he could do with the time he has. And you knew him, he would do anything to prove you wrong. "Who said we haven't already?" He retorted.

The hand on your waist is slowly moved to your stomach, then dragged down to your unzipped pants that you began to hastily remove, his nails lightly touching your skin, leaving a feathery sensation and as he closed in on your most intimate spot he eyed you in silence, but he spoke to you with those emotions that whirled inside them. Bastard. His fingers make way to the bottom of your undergarment touching your wet self, rubbing his fingers around just to feel how soaked you'd gotten all by yourself.

He begins to touch you through your underwear, and the hand that was once in your hair slithered under your top, undoing your bra with ease and disposing of it with little to no care as he goes back to cupping your breast. You both are breathing heavily against one another and you're the one to latch your lips onto his again, and once you do you don't regret it, you kiss into him deeply, and you feel the moistness of his tongue press up against your bottom lip, swiping it in an ask of permission, and you wholeheartedly welcome it, opening your mouth for him as your hips jut into his touch.

His tongue was warm and naturally moist, the strong feeling of its shape and the way he roughly handled it in your mouth making it feel more prominent. He swirled his tongue around yours, pulling it deeper into his and as went on his fingers began to rub on your clit, touching you with your garments still on. He adored the insolent whines that would leave your mouth, the desperation you reciprocated in those stuttering hip movements as you attempted to get as much friction as you can, but if you wanted it so bad all you had to do was ask.

The warmth you had discovered within your mouth soon disappeared as he departed from your lips, however his pillowy lips never left your body, they merely trailed down your jaw, leaving soft kisses as he climbed down your neck. You feel his teeth grazing your skin before sinking his teeth into it like he was blood hungry. His breath hitches at the quick breath of relief you release and how you wince at the pain in pleasure. Then he kisses it, lapping the bruise with his tongue to apologise, but he only does it again and again till you were sure your neck and shoulders were covered with marks. You didn't want to think about the struggle you'd have of hiding them, but he could offer you a better solution of simply not doing so.

He continues onto his path, riding up your shirt up to your chest as he resumes in journeying down to your stomach, leaving feather-like kisses in their wake, before feeling the wet heat that's up against you again. You look down to see him licking up your navel with a smug smile, snapping you out of your thoughts. You were stupid to believe that he would simply tend to you kindly. Was this to be loving? Certainly. But kind? No, anything but that. He'd love you with everything he has, and you'll take it.

Crouching down to be at your groyne as he resumes planting sloppy kisses downwards, he finally allows his finger to latch onto your undergarments waistband, slightly teasing you as he rubs on it, making you more aware of your need for him. You let out a grumbling whine, and he sees how you furrow your brows at him but it does nothing to deliver frustration when you wore such a cute pout. Still, he was a very generous man, so he wouldn't torture you for too long. He begins to lower them till you are laid bare for him, and the only time he ever looks away from you is when he finally has a moment to relish in the divine sight of your soaked self. A pleased hum leaves him, and his eyes meet yours again and you see the satisfaction that lay within them, how he scrutinises you, teases you, with nothing but his observing violet orbs and that gleam that reflects only more to come.

You were far from the kind to feel humiliated when being seen bare by him. This wasn't the first time you two had felt each other this way, spoken to one another in such a way or let out these sounds of yours. But, the difference here was that, you certainly never had done it like this, during a time you knew you shouldn't, when you had such little time, when there was a risk of getting caught, and it made you squirm into yourself all the more, your thighs pressing against one another and thus his thumb that had rested on your inner thigh.

"Ah ah, ah." He tutted, scolding you with his tone as though you had made a measly mistake. "That's no good," The heat of his breaths meet your skin with each word he speaks, granting goosebumps amongst your skin and you are certain this was intentional. "Don't tell me you're getting all shy now, are you?" And he cocks his head to the side as he gazes to you, awaiting your answer, and you can't make eye contact, not with this view of him knelt down, so eager for you. Surely he knows.

"I see. Don't worry, I'll make sure you're completely relaxed. You don't have to worry about a thing." His words are painfully slow and the longer he speaks the softer his voice gets, the more dewy and venomously sweet it is that you wish to intake it once more.He knew how to get you going and he didn't back away from using his dirty tricks, planting a kiss atop your abdomen.

Such a pretty face he had, but he bore the personality of a snake. I suppose it would be somewhat twisted for you to admit that you found yourself to enjoy that about him, allowing yourself to be a willing prey…

[sednonamoris]

a dark alley and a bad idea

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: After an argument with Abigail, John goes into town to drink his worries away. As always you follow, and as always there's trouble - seems like you bring it with you wherever you go. 

Warnings: Canon-typical alcohol/tobacco abuse, canon-typical violence, bar fight, blood, jealousy, toxic relationship(s), a singular French man, mild angst, pining, sexual tension ;)

Word count: 2,203

A/N: Just a chapter or two to go until we hit the official RDR2 timeline!!! This has been some time coming, and I just have to say a huuuuuge thank you to the people who read/comment on this story <333 ghost story is very near and dear to me, and sharing it with you all has been such a joy!! Here’s to many more chapters, and an eventual spark that turns this slow burn into a wildfire 🥵❤️‍🔥

Series masterlist • AO3

—

John and Abigail are fighting. Again. 

Leaned up against the pole of your tent, you take a long drag from your cigarette that does nothing to dull the headache forming behind your left eye socket. Every word they shout is a stabbing pain. You don’t know what the argument is about, this time, but at a guess it’s John’s failure as a father. Or perhaps Abigail’s incessant nagging. Or, more likely, two stubborn fools fighting tooth and nail not over a son, but over who’s right and who’s wrong and a years old hurt.

Maybe that mattered once upon a time, but the way they carry on now isn’t right for anyone.

The whole of camp is sick and tired of the never-ending arguments that last all day, and the too-loud fucking that lasts all night. It never seems to satisfy them, either, because come morning the fighting starts all over again. Not for the first time, you think about moving your tent to the other side of camp. Even bunking next to Dutch’s new best friend, Micah, would be an improvement. 

“Leave me be, woman! Can’t you see I want nothin’ to do with either of you right now?” John shouts in her face. 

“Fine!” Abigail fires back. “Swan off with Ghost like you ain’t got a family here! That’s what you always do anyhow.” 

“Maybe I will!” 

“Useless man,” she seethes.

She sends you a withering glare as she marches away, Jack in tow. You smile thinly in return. No doubt she’s headed to vent to Arthur, and then ask him with those pretty blue eyes to do something fun to take the boy’s mind off things. Then, once John has come back, they’ll argue over that, too.

John shakes his head and curls his lip in disgust, but does exactly as Abigail predicts. He storms past your tent with a come on, we’re leavin’, then keeps stomping on to where his mare is picketed. He never looks back to see if you follow. 

You do. 

—

These past few years have gone by in a blur, like those moving pictures Arthur told you about once. Hosea’s health has waxed and waned. Familiar faces left. New ones came. Jack is really starting to grow up, and Abigail has blossomed into motherhood in spite of John, who in between arguments has re-devoted himself to gunslinging. To Dutch. He watches over him with pride glistening in those dark eyes of his - a father figure and a moral compass and a leader all at once. Arthur is green with envy and red with an angry sort of shame. You’re just happy that unlike those two, whatever rift once existed between you and John has long since healed. 

And now here you all are in Blackwater.

To hear Dutch and Hosea tell it, this now-bustling town verging on citydom was little more than a trading post the last time they passed through. Following the two murders everyone is charitable enough not to mention, the long arm of the law has chased you relentlessly. A failed venture up North led you here, further East than anyone has been in what feels like a lifetime.

You’re trying to see it as a fresh start. 

John seems like he’s trying to go back in time.

The ride into town has given him a chance to cool down some, but he still carries a tension and a meanness in those broad shoulders of his. Riding just behind, you take a rare moment to admire him. He’s been growing his hair out. It sits lank just past his shoulder, and as much as it needs a wash you think the length suits him. It frames the sharp angles of his face that even the low brim of his hat can’t hide and emphasizes the lean, untamed power of his frame. 

The two of you are wilderness and war, survival and spite. Restless remnants of time gone by. Ghosts, you think wryly to yourself.

Blackwater is just the opposite. Each building is young and alive, cut brick and fresh paint. Wooden scaffolding reveals the newborn bones of structures still being built by construction workers that toil proudly for a city made in their image. Passersby are dressed in clothes that make up for fineness in newness and brightly colored dye. Some of the ladies even have delicate parasols to shield their skin from the prairie sun’s harshness. You spy your own sun-weathered face in the expensive glass saloon-front and manage to suppress a sigh. 

John parks his mare at one of the hitching posts there. You follow suit, not at all surprised at where you’ve landed. You, Arthur, and Hosea came to ‘test out the drinks’ your first week here. They’re good. Expensive, but good. The two of them have been scheming away about some mysterious lead they won’t let you in on. Meanwhile, Micah has bent Dutch’s ear about a river boat. You’re still sniffing out leads of your own, and figure the bar will be as good a place as any to start. It just happens John will be drinking his problems away beside you. 

“Two whiskeys,” he says to the bartender without preamble. He slaps just enough change down on the counter and takes a seat, oblivious to the glares of customers he’s interrupted. You settle in beside him with a poorly-concealed grin.

“What if I wanted a beer?”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t.”

You hold up your hands in mock surrender. “At least let me get the next round.”

At that he clinks his glass to yours and taps it on the bartop before swallowing his drink down with a grimace. You elect to nurse yours, already prepared for a long night.

He quickly outpaces you. While John oscillates between pouring his heart out to whatever working girl is nearest and playing increasingly worse hands in the ongoing blackjack game, you begin smalltalking. One of the off-duty construction workers piques your interest. He’s a burly, hairy, mountain of a man who introduces himself as Pierre with an accent you can only place as foreign.

“You speak real good English,” you blurt without thinking. “Where are you from?”

He laughs, a deep sound that comes from his belly. “I have been told I speak English very well, yes. I am from France.”

“Awful long boat ride to break your back layin’ brick.”

“Perhaps so, but I like the work. It keeps my mind and my hands busy. Surely you know something of this, Cowpoke?”

You snort a laugh in agreement and try to ignore the heat that rises in your cheeks at the nickname. It sounds… nice, when he says it. A little romantic, like you’re some lone figure on the American frontier and not a liar, a killer, and a thief. 

Mischief and delight dance in the dark brown of his eyes when he catches your fluster. “Let me buy you a drink, hm? Then maybe I will tell you about France, and you will tell me about America.” 

—

You’re the warm, happy kind of drunk by the time the sun starts setting. Pierre is kind, and funny, and his stories of France paint such a vivid picture in your mind. You’ve traveled plenty, sure, but never across oceans. It sounds equal parts exhilarating and frightening. He tells you about laying strong foundations, and you tell him about breaking young horses. He explains what to look for in a fine building, and you tell him how to buy decent horseflesh. It’s fun. Freeing, even, to speak to someone outside of the gang like this. Of course he mentions a wealthy old landowner outside of town too paranoid to keep his money at the bank, and of course you’ll rob the place later, but he shares this not to screw someone else over, but because the construction of the old house fascinates him. Because he wants to share that passion with you. Because, you remind yourself, he doesn’t know you are what you are. 

He tells a joke - something about construction, you think. It’s hard to tell because he leans in and places a hand on your arm and your mind suddenly goes blank. His eyes smile with him, just as strong and warm as the rest of him. You smile back. Then in the blink of an eye there’s a shout, and before you realize what’s happened Pierre is cradling his bleeding nose after someone lands a vicious right hook.

“You keep your hands to yourself, partner.” 

“What the hell, Marston?!” you say, scrambling back from the commotion. But it’s no use; John can’t see past the blood red of his tunnel vision.

To your great dismay, Pierre rises to his challenge. He flashes you a look - apologetic or resigned or disappointed, it’s hard to say -  before standing to face off with your idiot best friend, piss drunk and fighting mad. He’s easily twice his size, but what John Marston lacks in muscle he makes up for in meanness. When Pierre swings high, he dives low and takes him out at the legs. And so the mountain topples. Straddled on his chest, John beats and beats and beats on Pierre’s face, until finally the larger man throws him off and comes to an unsteady stand. His face is pulpy. His eyes shine bright with anger and dark with understanding the kinds of company you keep. The bloodthirsty crowd that’s gathered jeer and laugh. They catch John on the fringe and push him back into the fight. Standing opposite, Pierre spits blood in his direction before putting his fists up once more. 

The bartender is still shouting for them to stop. 

You’re just frozen, watching John defend the honor you don’t possess against a man who probably has more than the whole gang combined. 

When their fists collide once again, crowd-goers start passing crumpled bills and calling out bets. Twenty on the skinny one, and I’ve got thirty for Frenchy, and let’s see forty for the cowboy! Even they can see John has more fight in him, no matter how many times Pierre clobbers him with a powerful left hook the idiot can’t seem to block. 

Fools. Goddamn blood-blind fools, both of them. 

John gets full-body thrown against the bar, all sprawled limbs and wind-knocked-out-of-him. He wheezes an insult, goading Pierre closer. Only you can see the writing on the wall, but the cry of warning comes too late; The moment he closes the distance, John whips a bottle out from behind the bar and breaks it over Pierre’s head. He comes crashing down, over two hundred pounds of dead weight lost to the crunch of broken glass and police whistles.

The moment the lawmen burst through the front doors is the moment you finally unfreeze. You rush over to where John stands lording over his fallen opponent and all but tackle him through the back door. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” you hiss at him as you dodge through backalleys and behind buildings. “I was working a lead - He was buying my drinks for Christsakes!”

“Shut up,” he snaps, then tugs your arm and pushes your back to scratchy alley brick with a hand over your mouth.

He crowds close, and you seriously contemplate kicking him in the balls or biting him - maybe both - when three officers run past, clearly hunting for you. His dark leather coat blends with the unlit alleyway, but still you don’t dare move a muscle. The two of you hold your collective breath until the sound of their footsteps fade.

John removes his hand from your mouth, but it doesn’t go far. Rather than retreating, he cups your cheek and lets his thumb brush against your lower lip. 

“He was touching you,” he says, half defense and half confession.

Somehow you find your voice. “What if I wanted him to?”

“You didn’t.” Alcohol and iron sit heavy on his breath. His grey eyes are blown black, drunk and something else you’re too scared to name. It’s hard to breathe. You wish it wasn’t. 

“What do I want, then?”

He tilts his face forward, so the bridge of his nose brushes against yours. Your eyelashes kiss his cheekbones. You can feel how wide your own eyes have blown, can feel the want and the warmth and the desperate, pathetic hope that builds in your chest and threatens to bubble out of your mouth.  

“Someone who ain’t afraid of ghosts.” He doesn’t speak so much as breathe the words into you. 

You open your mouth - to respond, to kiss him, maybe - but before you can say another word the sound of heavy footfall at the opposite end of the alley snaps both of your heads to attention at breakneck speed. 

“There they are!” a voice shouts, and a whistle blows shortly afterward. 

“Fuck!” John curses. “Shit.”

The two of you sprint off into the night, to the edge of town where you whistle desperately for your mounts to follow. Two ungraceful running mounts later you’re off, shaking the police tail with ease on moonlit backroads.

Once the danger has passed you let your heart break to the sound of hoofbeats that lead home.

[caramel-ribbons]

About the Booktok-hockey controversy:

I know that this happened a day ago and that social media moves really fast, maybe too fast, but Imma still say something about this:

You should not be sexualizing real people. That’s it.

Doesn’t matter if they’re a celebrity, it doesn’t matter if that’s a part of their brand, it doesn’t even matter if they originally consented to the sexualization. The moment they say that they are uncomfortable with being sexualized, then you stop. It’s that simple.

I’m not even gonna get into her chasing after White men cause that’s not what the conversation should be about. However, I will say that I find it extremely funny, that Kiera went on TikTok, and instead of apologizing, taking accountability, and agreeing to cease the behavior altogether, she instead doubled down, fake cried, and accused this man and his wife of going after a Black content creator which is bold. Not even the boldest thing about the situation, but still, pretty bold, considering she never recommends Black books, even admitted that she would not recommend Black books on her platform. She never promotes Black authors nor does she even platform other Black content creators. To show such little regard towards her identity until it was time for her to weaponize it against someone she objectified, is vile. And it’s even worse when you remember that Kiera is 27. That’s old enough to have a Bachelor’s, a masters, an apartment and a six-figure job in a different economy.

And worst of all is how people are defending her behavior. Not all of Booktok, but certainly too many have come to her defense when we’re talking about literal sexual harassment. I’ve been thinking about this since Juniper and Thorn, but too many Booktok content creators almost exclusively read and recommend romance and smut, so whenever it’s time to read something else, or in this case, analyze a situation that has nothing to do with their obsession, they can’t. They’ve learned to project onto the books they read, and they project what they read onto to their reality, which is why you have 20 and even 30-something-year-old women defending the objectification of a real human being because they just see him as another real-life book boyfriend

There’s nothing wrong with reading and enjoying romance. There’s nothing wrong with liking smut. And there also isn’t anything wrong about talking about how sexy you think your celebrity crushes are, but it does become a problem when you continually make sexually-suggestive comments about these people you don’t know, and when you profit off of this objectification, specifically without their consent. Real people, celebrity or otherwise, are not your book boyfriends, and you cannot treat them the same way. So for the response to Alex and his wife to be so vitriolic is not only a sign of entitlement, but also of delusion.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (4)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), voyeurism, exhibitionism, authority kink, praise kink, spanking, slight dom themes, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint, 

A/N: Slowing it down just a bit to move plot along. Freaking out on the reblogs and comments are encouraged and will be rewarded with cookies. Seriously though, I love hearing what you guys think and use some of it to make the next chapters better. I adore you all! Have at it!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:4 Apple Crumble

Steve Rogers had kindly offered for you and your team to stay at the Compound. For however long this mission would take, you were all going to start running straight at it early tomorrow. In terms of the mission, he was relieved to have your help. The sooner the serum was out of circulation the better and they truthfully did need your help. This underground world was more your scene now and you could better navigate it.

On a personal level, he was glad that you were sticking around even if it was on a contract. He would take whatever opportunity he can and make the best of it. That's how he's always been and he wasn't going to change that now.

He told himself that it was because he was the Captain that he was at your door this late after you all had agreed to part for the night. It was out of consideration that he carried with him some of his own clothes to offer you in case you needed something to change into. It was out of a need to clear the tension with you now that you were going to work as a team again that he was knocking on your door.

That was all.

You opened the door a moment later wrapped only in a short towel and with your hair still dripping wet from the shower. The smile that rose on your face was sly as you leaned on the doorframe with your arms crossed and your hip cocked to one side. He swallowed.

Maybe that wasn't all.

"What can I do for you, Cap?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was far too distracted by the little droplet that rolled down from your temple to the valley of your breasts. He shook his head and cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus only on your eyes and not the inappropriate answers that sprung to mind at your question.

"I brought you a change of clothes in case you need it," he managed to say. "And I wanted to talk to you if you're not too tired."

You opened the door wider and took the clothes from him without a word, turning into the room toward the bathroom. You casually dropped your towel to the floor and Steve choked at the sight of your bare back, a small set of black panties the only stitch you wore. The breath in his chest released only when you disappeared into the bathroom, the door cracked open offering him enticing glimpses as you moved around.

Steve hurriedly closed the door behind him and as he made his way further in, he caught sight of an open go bag beside your bed with clothes clearly visible. There was also a shirt and sweats beside it, the design he knew belonged to Pietro. He felt a little embarrassed. Of course Pietro would have already beaten him to it and that your team always came prepared. Still there was a satisfaction that bloomed in him when you stepped out clad in his shirt, the hem barely reaching mid thigh and bare feet soundlessly crossing the carpeted floor until you came to sit with him on the sofa. You tucked your legs under you and rested your head on your hand over the back of the seat.

"Gotta say I like this look, Steve," you grinned at him.

He chuckled, self-consciously rubbing at his beard and pulling at the hair at the back of his collar. The light dusting of red on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"What? You don't like the all American apple pie look?"

You hummed and took a leisurely look at him from head to toe. Rugged and imposing as he appeared, the heat on his face intensified at your obvious appreciation and the way you swiped your tongue along your bottom lip. You were biting your lip when your eyes met his again, trying to stop yourself from laughing at how flustered he was getting and how much you were enjoying it. You've always found Steve handsome and he made apple pie look damn good, but this look on him was just so dangerously delicious.

You had a type.

"I'm more of an apple crumble kind of girl. I like the texture better," you winked. "And I don't mind a little beard burn."

"Will your team mind that I'm talking to you without one of them here?"

You raised an eyebrow and held his unsteady gaze, clearly understanding he meant more than just your professional relationship with the three men.

"You're curious."

"It's none of my business. That's not what I came to talk to you about," he stammered, unaccustomed to how forward you were.

"What did you want to talk about then?"

"I wanted to apologize properly and thank you for agreeing to help."

You groaned and threw your whole body back on the seat, causing Steve's shirt to ride up just shy of completely flashing him. You sat back up and pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a long breath. It was only the fact that it was Steve that you were even entertaining this conversation.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Steve," you firmly dismissed.

"I do, Nem. We all do."

"Fine. List down what you're sorry about. Let's go through it one by one or we can draw lots to make it interesting."

"Nem," he said, low and clear with warning yet imploring you to listen. "Can you take this seriously for one second?"

The ever present smirk on your face dropped as you sighed heavily and ran a hand through your hair. For the first time since he's seen you, your expression softened a fraction and a shadow of the person he used to know passed across your features.

"Listen to me, Steve. I don't blame any of you. I'm not angry at any of you. I honestly have no room for more anger even if I wanted to be."

In the beginning you were. There were days while you were getting tortured that you hated them while you pleaded to the heavens for them to rescue you. It had taken a decade and three incredible men for that inferno of fury to turn into a manageable bitterness.

"Do you know how tiring it is to be so fucking angry all the time?" you chuckled darkly. "It took a while, but I learned to prioritize what I choose to be angry about."

"Salvacion," he muttered and you nodded, your eyes staring blankly forward.

"I've carried that name for a decade, Steve. That asshole has to die by my hands."

Steve saw now how selfish he was for forcing the conversation with the purpose of earning your forgiveness. It was for easing his own guilt that he was doing it when instead he should have just been thanking you for what you did and had to endure.

"Why didn't you ever come back?"

"I tried, Steve. When I was recovered enough I tried to go back. Did you know my sister had a girlfriend?"

He shook his head, throat suddenly closing at the sight of absolute misery in your eyes. He regretted starting this conversation even more.

"Jill. She was amazing to Lily and she was like a sister to me too," you smiled a little, not in your usual sarcastic way but with a hint of gentle fondness before your expression hardened once more.

"I saw her and I just couldn't bring myself to face her. I'm the reason the love of her life is dead. I couldn't, Steve"

It started off with the fear that they might have killed Jill too. You told yourself you had to know, but truthfully you were trying desperately to find a connection to Lily. You found her visiting the graveyard, laying flowers on two stones and spending the afternoon sitting on the ground tearfully talking to the dead. The shame burned through you and from then on you made it your sole purpose to destroy the man who took Lily from you both. Until then you had no right to face her. You had no right to return to the life you once knew.

Steve noticed that you weren't crying although the look in your eyes was swimming with grief. He expected you to cry, but somehow seeing you with dry eyes only made you look more in pain. You only clenched your fists, your shoulders tense and your jaw stiff. Steve decided he would tell the others instead of having you go through this conversation again.

He would do that for you.

You woke up surprisingly refreshed the following morning, strangely lighter than you have felt in the past decade. You didn't expect for that talk with Steve to have such an impact on you. You smiled ruefully, remembering your many counseling sessions with Curtis before and that maybe you were finally seeing his point.

FRIDAY had directed you to the larger conference room for today's briefing session with the rest of the team. You were wearing another one of Steve's shirts paired with your usual cargo pants, a fact that didn't go unnoticed judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smiles. Billy in particular was leaning in to whisper to Matt what was going on.

"You don't have to tell me. I can smell it," Matt chuckles, crinkles visible at the edges of his dark sunglasses. "His cologne is quite distinct."

You smacked Billy on the arm, but laughed with them as well before throwing a wink at Steve who proceeded to blush a deep red. As you took your seat, a cup of coffee suddenly materialized in front of you accompanied by Pietro's ever bright smile. You smiled gratefully and took a sip, eyes slightly rounding in surprise at the taste.

"You remembered how I took my coffee."

"I've forgotten nothing about you, little star."

You haven't taken your coffee that way in so long. It's been just strong plain black coffee lately, the lack of sugar and cream where you lived with the boys being a factor. It had seemed pointless to eat something sweet when there was a permanent sour taste in your mouth from life. Now though you couldn't seem to help taking one sip after another, licking your lips before going in for more.

Right now this tasted right.

You didn't notice that Billy was smiling adoringly at you and sharing a look of approval with Frank as the briefing began, happy that someone aside from him was spoiling you. You certainly didn't know that Matt was smirking because he heard your heart literally skip a beat at the sweet gesture.

It took hours for the meeting to wrap up, but there was still more to do before you could actually take action. A number of the Avengers were sent out to gather more intel while the rest would stay to make further preparations.

"I only really need to talk to Frank a bit more," Steve said as he approached your group. "Why don't we have Pietro show you guys around the Compound? There are some improvements I think you'll find interesting."

Your tour guide for the afternoon appeared beside you, taking your hand in his and bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement. He was just too cute that you couldn't help but let out a small smile. The effect he had on you remained it seems.

"A tour would be really helpful for me," Matt easily agreed.

"And I go wherever the pretty girl goes," Billy added, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"Great. Surrender your weapons and you should be good to go," Steve asked with a pointed look at both you and Billy who groaned in answer.

Billy was ready with a string of complaints and counter arguments when the clang of metal on the glass conference table stunned him into silence. He watched in complete disbelief as you removed every gun and blade attached to your body, efficiently dismantling them and lining them up on the table.

"Is she?" Matt murmured, leaning closer to Billy.

"Yeah."

"All of them?"

"Yeah."

By the time you stepped back, there was practically a decent sized armory on the table. How and where you managed to fit all of it on your person was a mystery to them.

"You missed one," Billy said, snapping out of his daze.

He stepped in front of you and casually slipped his arm up the front of your shirt and under your sports bra. His fingers grazed unnecessarily close to your now hardened nipples and he simply winked when you raised an eyebrow at him. Billy pulled out two small throwing daggers soon after and placed them alongside your other weapons.

"Oh yeah. I keep forgetting about those," you chuckled.

"Do you always come armed to the teeth?" Bucky snapped, clearly bothered by the display.

"She doesn't want her team to carry extra ammo for her, Sergeant," Billy scowled at him, the obvious animosity surprising Bucky. When he turned back to Pietro, his expression was back to his usual playful one. "So how about that tour?"

Frank turned to Steve when you had exited the room. "You gotta teach me that trick, Cap."

"What trick?"

"First time in 10 years I've seen her take any kind of order without a knife fight first," he said, cracking a smile and shaking his head.

It turns out that coming back was doing some good for you and this made him more comfortable around the Avengers. He wasn't about to braid them friendship bracelets but he was less inclined to pop a cap in their ass. At least for the time being.

Walking around the Compound brought back some of that wonder you felt when you first stepped in, but it recalled everything you had lost. Sensing the sudden tension in you, Billy gripped you by the waist and pulled you into his side. He kissed your temple, a silent reminder of what you had gained.

Pietro had been an absolute sweetheart, specifically describing what was in the area for Matt's benefit and pointing out the changes to you. The training area was your last stop, the place you had spent the most time in during your short stint here. There were loud sounds coming from the area and walking in you saw fresh-faced recruits in paired off sparring sessions.

Your full attention was on Pietro as he happily listed off the new features and answered questions from Matt and Billy, the latter now in businessman mode as he thought of what he could implement for Anvil. You were having an unusually pleasant time until a familiar shrill voice demanded your attention.

"Well look what the street cat dragged in. Y/N?"

You knew that voice. A decade with torture and trauma included apparently couldn't change how much her voice grated at you. The cold smirk made a reappearance on your face as you slowly turned to face her, the three men with you were instantly alarmed at the change in your demeanor.

"Kim," you nodded.

"Thought you were dead."

"Thanks. Can't say I thought about you at all though."

"I see you're still pathetically clinging to Pietro."

"What can I say? He's really cute," you said with a wink at Pietro who seemed to enjoy the compliment.

She sneered at you, her irritation rising when you weren't backing down like you used to do. She couldn't quite put her finger on what had changed about you, but you seemed rougher around the edges and far too cocky for her liking. Luckily, she still remembered a sure-fire way to take you down a few pegs.

"I'm teaching a class on hand to hand combat. How about we show them a demonstration on what a real fight looks like?"

You giggled as your smile grew, a disturbing sight that made even Kim doubt herself for a moment. You nodded your head in easy acceptance and she looked like she was pleased at herself for getting this opportunity. Before you could step forward though, you found Matt's walking stick blocking your path.

"What? It's not assault if it's provoked," you grinned at the frown on his face.

He hated it when you found loopholes, but he relented with a heavy sigh. He was too used to this. He leaned toward Pietro and told him that he should inform the Captain.

"Get some snacks too, roadrunner," Billy chuckled, delightedly watching you strip off your shirt and walking confidently towards Kim on the sparring mats.

Pietro had returned a moment later after completing his task, actually handing Billy a bag of fresh popcorn. The smile on his face froze when he caught sight of your bare skin. So far all he had seen as evidence of your torture was what was visible on your neck and face. He had stupidly brushed that fact aside, too excited to have found you again. Now the vicious marring on your beautiful skin was a cruel reminder of their failure as your team. They had failed you.

He had failed you.

Back in the conference room, the same feelings were shared by two super soldiers. They had pulled up surveillance on the training area after Pietro's message, just in time to see you take off that shirt.

Bucky felt the air leave his lungs at the horrific sight. He was alive and you had paid a heavy price for saving him. He could barely keep his eyes on you, the shame burning through him. He didn't want to imagine the amount of pain you had to endure to sustain those injuries.

"Don't you people dare look at her with pity," Frank warned. "Those scars are a testament to her strength. She's damn beautiful."

Steve agreed. He'd caught a glimpse of your scars last night and jarring as they were, your complete lack of self consciousness to them just made you more alluring. Looking back at the screen though he was concerned that you could hurt yourself. Kim was a top agent now, high enough in the ranks to be training recruits and leading missions. She had proven herself deadly in combat, but the way you were grinning was chilling in itself.

"One question before we start," you said.

"What?" Kim scoffed, flipping her braided hair over her shoulder.

"When's your next mission?"

"2 weeks. Why?" she answered, perfect brow raised in confusion.

"Just calculating your recovery time," you shrugged. "I'm nice that way."

Kim predictably charged at you then, growling and cursing at you under her breath. You smirked, standard SHIELD movements were easy to read for you. You stayed completely still and relaxed in your stance as she lunged at you with her fist. You timed your movement precisely, sidestepping at the absolute last moment. One hand grabbed at the back of her head, forcing it down to ram against your oncoming fist with a sickening crack.

Broken nose.

Kim shrieked in pain as the blood gushed from her nose and she tried to pull away from you. You didn't let her. You pulled her down by the shoulder to bend her over before driving your knee up her midsection. She wheezed at the impact, the mat below her smattered with her blood.

Bruised ribs. Maybe slightly broken.

You unceremoniously threw her aside, letting her fall groaning on her side. You clicked your tongue, watching her struggle and turning to the class she was supposed to be teaching.

"Lesson 1, kids," you waved your hands in Kim's general direction. "Don't end up like that."

Broken ego.

You turned to go back to your boys when the glint of metal caught your eye. You tilted your head just in time for the dagger to zip past your eye line, only thinly scratching at your cheek. Your hands reacted on instinct, reaching for the small hidden pocket along the waistband of you pants. You flicked the thin blade with deft fingers, embedding on the mat and landing it purposely close to Kim's eyes that it cut through her fake lashes.

"Nem!" Steve's unmistakable voice boomed through the speakers. You had forgotten that they had FRIDAY everywhere. "We said no weapons."

You rolled your eyes and smiled cheekily at the cameras. "It's just a nail file. I don't like keeping blood under my nails."

"You call that training?" Steve groaned rubbing his eyes and turning to Frank.

"I call that anger management," Frank said, amused at how unpredictable to handle they already found you when they've barely scratched the surface. He noticed how Bucky looked furious, his metal hand clutching a little too hard onto the table. "Don't like what you see, Sarge?"

Bucky didn't answer. He didn't tell them that he didn't like what he saw because he knew he was a major contributor in what caused it. If only he had been kinder, gentler, more honest. Maybe things would have turned out differently.

He walked down the hallways much later gripping a first aid kit in his metal hand and nervously running the other through his cropped hair. The cut on your face was barely anything, but he needed an excuse to talk to you. He was afraid you would turn him away, but he was terrified that you wouldn't. He didn't know what to say to you. He didn't know how to begin to apologize for everything he's done. His palm grew sweaty and beads were beginning to form on his brow.

He was only a few steps away from your bedroom door and he was sorely tempted to turn back around when he noticed that it was cracked open and he could hear voices from inside. He should have followed his instinct to keep his distance but a high whine that definitely came from you pushed him to peak through the small opening.

What he saw made his already thumping heartbeat grow quicker. His eyes grew wide and his throat went dry. Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn't this.

You. Stark naked. Grinding your mound on someone's face.

You looked absolutely glorious as you wound your hips in your chase for release; head thrown, back arched, and lips in a dreamy smile. The view he had of you, facing him and deep into your pleasure, was enough to cause his pants to tighten. He couldn't see which one of your teammates was beneath you, the bedframe blocking his view. Whoever they were, Bucky was jealous. He wanted to taste you too.

He felt that stirring of longing again now as he watched you in the throes of passion with another man. He felt it the moment you stepped back into their lives. He felt it during the 10 years they thought you were dead. And he felt it when you were still in training as a recruit every time you smiled at Pietro and Steve.

You picked up your pace and he could see muscular arms reach up to grip your waist and pull you down harder. You were panting curses, your breathing turning erratic and Bucky could see your thighs begin to shake. The sight of you coming undone has to be the most entrancing thing he's ever seen.

Movement from you and your partner pulled him from the hypnosis caused by your erotic display. His face heated up, deeply embarrassed at having watched you for so long and finding enjoyment in basically violating your privacy. He was about to leave when the man whose face you had been riding, came up to kneel behind you.

He pulled your hips back against his own, sliding his hard length easily into your dripping cunt causing you to moan so deliciously that Bucky felt a shiver run down his spine. You reached your hand up to grip the back of his head, letting him bury his own in your neck as he set a languid pace with his thrusts.

Your head rolled to the side and your eyes opened, locking directly with Bucky's. You smirked and reached down to circle your swollen bud, pressing your back further against the hard body rutting behind you and purposely putting on a show. You winked at him.

He bolted out of there.

"That wasn't very nice, honey," the low voice was thick with lust in your ear. His breathing was growing labored too, finding your heat wrapping around him overwhelming.

"I don't see you stopping, Captain."

"How can I when you're gripping me so tight?" He snapped his hips earning a sharp moan from you. "Did you like that? Torturing my best pal with me balls deep inside you?"

You sighed and closed your eyes. Apple pie Steve wouldn't have whispered such sinful things to you, but this Steve could make you cum with just filthy words alone.

"Yeah, you did. Look at you clenching and soaking my cock from having Bucky watch you. You like being bad to him, honey?"

A sudden smack to your ass had you snapping your eyes open. He chuckled into your neck, biting down hard on the juncture as he felt you gripping him even tighter.

"Answer," he growled, landing a harsher smack to your bottom.

"Yes! Yes, Captain, I did."

"Good. Will you be good for me now, honey? You caused a bit of trouble today." His thrusting was still slow, making sure you felt every ridge and vein with each stroke as he drove you into a stupor. "Will you be a good girl for your Captain now?"

"Yes, Captain."

He smirked against your skin, pleased at your compliance. He was reveling in the power he had over you. Frank had said that you never took orders without a fight, but here you were being so good for him. Pliable. Yielding. He was enjoying it.

He gathered your hair in one hand and pulled, your back arching beautifully and emphasizing where his cock was buried deep inside you. With each thrust his cock came out glistening with your slick. The image made him lose control, abruptly escalating his pace to rail feverishly into you.

He had you gasping and clutching at the sheets instantly, begging for him to go harder and push you over the edge. He bent over you and reached around to rub furiously at your throbbing clit.

"Cum like a good girl, honey. Cum around my cock," he commanded. "I wanna feel you fucking drown me."

You came, lights dancing in your eyes and your head empty of all thoughts aside from the pleasure that racked your body. He followed soon after with a loud grunt, the sensation of you fluttering around him too much to resist.

He fell on top of you, spent and satisfied. Your sweat and heavy breaths mingling together as you both tried to return back to the world. You liked the heavy feel of him on top of you, strangely finding comfort in the weight.

He dragged you with him when he rolled off you, spooning you and planting kisses on the back of your shoulders that had your skin tingling from his beard.

"When are you going to put him out of his misery?"

"When it stops being fun?" you chuckled.

Steve wasn't going to push the issue. He knew that it was up to you whether you forgave Bucky or not and when that would be. It would be on your own terms how things moved. Just like what happened between you two. He wasn't expecting it, but the heated argument about the injuries you inflicted on one of his best agents had somehow escalated into him spanking you and you growing wet from it.

Not that either of you were complaining.

You turned around in his arms to face him, looking up at him with a taunting smirk. "You sure your old heart can take being in a polyamorous relationship?"

He chuckled and pecked your lips before going back in for a much deeper kiss that had you swooning. When he pulled back, he was looking at you lovingly.

"I'm known for waiting too long about things like this. I lost my shot at you 10 years ago. I'm not missing out on you again."

His words were firm and genuine. He honestly thought that he would mind having to share you with several other men. He thought that he would feel jealous and possessive. Instead, he felt reassured. He knew that wherever and whenever he lacked, someone else would pick it up and he would be the same. There was a sense of relief knowing that you would always be taken cared of by people who felt the same for you as he did.

"Well then you have some making up to do for waiting so long," you said nibbling at his lower lip.

He groaned and grabbed your thigh, hitching your leg up on his hip. Your thighs and core were still sticky and slippery from both your releases. His tongue dove into your mouth and he could feel you moan against his lips as he ran the tip of his cock against your still sensitive core. Your nails dug into his back as he sunk in, fitting perfectly inside you.

"You're running with a super soldier now, honey," he said, eyes burning with want. "I can do this all day."

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

A/N: Some asked about Jill and Kim so here you go, lovelies. Come freak out with me in the comments and reblogs. Thank you all for the support! More coming soon. 

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[goldentsum]

━ submissives and overstimulation

CHARACTERS: bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto, midoriya izuku, and kirishima eijirou

GENRE: smut

TAGS: overstimulation (male receiving), slight bdsm, oral, penetration, pegging, submissive males 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: my first bnha fic please-! i missed bnha so i rewatched a couple of eps of s4 and i got an idea-- a sinful one anyway-

━ bakugou ♡

surprisingly submissive. you both know he can throw you off him if he wants to but bakugou lives for the dominance that oozes out of you. 

a kinky piece of shit 

in the moment, he has absolutely no filter and is a fucking brat about it, hips jerking and moans loud as fuck that after you two finish, his voice is all scratchy and raw. 

but when you two are finished, he will get all embarrassed and angry if you comment about it like he wasn’t the one humping you like a dog. 

overstimulating katsuki is always so fun! 

bakugou growls whenever you two do something sexual but after a bit, it slowly turns into broken whimpers and you take pride on that.

his voice is just so fucking heavenly, his dick heavy in your mouth, and he taste absolutely delicious. 

one of the reasons you love giving him head is his cum. his cum just taste so amazing. there’s a hint of sweetness to it that gets you hooked and keeps you wanting more. 

so when it’s the 3rd time he came in your mouth, his voice is all raspy and raw and his body jerking nonstop but did you stop? nope. 

he’s too fun to tease to stop~ 

“f-fuck, (y/n)! don’t... s-stop--!” bakugou gasping through his 3rd orgasm for the night, body all sweaty and sensitive, as he felt you swirling your tongue around his dick’s sensitive head. 

you let of his cock for a moment, a lewd pop echoing in the room along with bakugou’s heavy pants. you smirked up at him, your hand encasing around his spent cock and rubbed him softly. it gained you a broken groan and a full on shudder, hips not knowing whether to lean away from your touch or thrust into your hand. 

“do you really want to stop, katsuki?” you asked, taking the reddening head of his dick into your mouth and licking around it gently but even that was too much for bakugou

“j-just-- let me breathe a second... geez, woman--” he groaned out and sighed in relief when he felt you stop though you didn’t remove him from your mouth. bakugou closed his eyes, breathing heavily and trying to calm his rapid heart. but then he felt a harsh suck making his eyes snap open in surprise and sensitivity and looked down at you with wide blown red eyes. 

“s-shit” his eyes rolled back to his head when you started taking more of him, your pace getting faster with each moment.

guess he just has to cum again, not that he’s really complaining. 

━ todoroki ♡

todoroki is a brat. thank you for coming to my tedtalk. but seriously though, he really is. he likes getting on your nerves and testing you and your patience as he tries out different things to get you to punish him. oomf--

he likes seeing you angry and getting punishments. his favorite is over-stimulation and orgasm denial, either is fine but over-stimulation has a special place in his heart~ 

he is a masochist. periodt. 

you don’t really like hurting him or call him degrading names cus you just wanna love him and kiss every inch of his body but shouto has different plans from you. 

and as time pass, you kinda got used to it but never really full on be dominant and sadistic on him.

so when you snapped one day, it lowkey scared him but damn, the punishment was amazing. 100000/10 todoroki will repeat again.

ngl though, shouto loves your aftercare more than any kinky shit you two tried. even if his masochistic side just wants you to leave him aching and covered with cum and sweat as he feels so worthless like a used sex doll, your aftercare was everything. 

it grew on you too, seeing him all bruised up and messy with cum and all sort of fluids raised a sick obsession in you. 

just imagining the big powerful pro-hero tied up in your bed and letting you do anything to him was making you horny. 

bratty masochist! todoroki is one hell of a ride. literally. 

ragged breaths escaped you as you stared down at the male beneath you. todoroki moaning at the pleasure, his hips trying to match yours but it was a little difficult with all the restrains you have on him. the burning ache on his wrists and arms being tied to the bedpost for who knows how long as the build up for his 4th orgasm made him dizzy. 

you bounced on his lap, feeling his large cock twitching inside you as it threatened to fill you up once again with his thick cum. over the haze of pleasure, you continued to watch your boyfriend get lost in the pleasure with his mouth open as a thin line of spit trailed down to his chin. 

growling when you felt him cum again as you ride him through his 4th orgasm, letting your hands fall down to his bruised chest and scratched him, leaving angry red lines on his marked up torso. 

todoroki groaned at the pain, hips frantically thrusting up to you and letting the overwhelming pleasure flood his entire body. broken moans and curses escaped the man when your thrust didn’t faltered even after his orgasm. 

“if you think we’re finish here then you’re absolutely wrong, you fucking whore. we’re only gonna stop if you make me cum, got that. you’re nothing more than a useless fuck toy.” you spat out, gripping his chin to make him look at you. todoroki’s half-lidded and fucked out eyes stared at you, letting out moans in between words. 

“yes-... u-use me more, m-mistress--” 

��� midoriya ♡

this boy is one whiny mofo-- goodluck 

midoriya may seem innocent but do not be fooled, he’s a sinful one. he may act all cute and stuff like that but when you two are alone, he will jump your bones like it’s no one’s business. 

he completely trusts you so you two try all sorts of kinks even if the other is unsure. it’s not gonna hurt to try. 

one kink he never knew he’ll have is pegging and you’re damn good at it. midoriya just can’t believe how well you just swirl your hips around making the dildo hit every spot in his walls that makes him see stars.

he’s really not afraid to be vocal and try all sort of things so sex is verryyy interesting. 

everytime you fuck midoriya into oblivion with a strap on, expect him to cum multiple times until he can’t anymore. he’s super sensitive too so yeah. 

midoriya cries when he’s sensitive but goddamn he looks so pretty like that. 

tears spilling down his freckled cheeks, his lips swollen, and his muscles contracting from the immense pleasure you keep giving him. 

he’s a greedy man though, even if he came multiple times he still gets soooo needy. loving the pain over-stimulation comes with. 

you love seeing the number one hero putty in your hands~ 

sounds of skin slapping and midoriya’s loud moans filled the room, your tiring hips started to get slower making the man beneath you whine at the decreasing pleasure. you clicked your tongue at that, stopping completely and leaned closer to midoriya, your chest pressed against his strong back while he heave heavy breaths. 

“s-sweets.. please m-move” he whined, grinding his ass to your strap-on and arched his back as he tried to get you to continue while he leaned against the pillow next to his head. his cock hanging between his thick thighs, cum spilling down his skin and to the blankets beneath him. he was still hard like he just didn’t cum 3 times already. 

you bit the broken skin on his neck as midoriya moaned at your sharp teeth sinking into his skin and arched his back even more, grasping the blankets. 

“good boys should take what they are given. no asking for more or less.” you said, hands moving to his chest as you thumb his nipples making him jerk his hips back and a hoarse moan escaping him. 

you started to move your hips again while one of your hands went to his thick cock, pumping him with the same pace as your thrusts, and midoriya’s eyes rolled back to his head, loud broken moans escaping him. 

you leaned away and pushed his head against the pillows, muffling his screams as you quicken your thrust. the strap-on hitting his prostate head on. 

“let’s see how many times you can cum before you pass out, izu~” 

━ kirishima ♡

red riot is a switch but leaning more into the dom side but this sweet boy loves getting praises and lives to please you. he will do everything in his power to make you satisfied and know that you are contented.

even when subbing, there’s still a hint of dominance to him. but! if you overstimulate him, his mind just melts and all thoughts and rationality flies out the window. 

his reactions are also so fucking yummy~ teeth gritting together, sharp inhales, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and hands gripping the covers of your bed as his quirk threatening to activate and just tear through the cloth.

i said it once and i’ll say it again, kirishima lives for praises. 

so please praise him. 

he’s also soooo sensitive. because when he was a teenage, he barely touched himself with how hectic UA was but when he finally had time and you came along, his libido just skyrocketed! 

at first, he cums way to early but do not fret, kiri will never never leave you unsatisfied. 

his oral techniques are top tier. you can’t change my mind. 

kirishima also is pretty quiet with just loud grunts and groans but when he already came multiple times, he really goes feral. 

he keeps on chasing the pleasure even though it probably hurts with all the sensitivity he’s feeling. 

his moans are broken and it only gets louder at that point. 

“baby girl, ahh- fuck--! you feel so good-” kirishima groans out, mouth open and showing those sharp teeth of his that you oddly had some weird fixation with. you looked at his lips, it was red and tender, as his teeth peaked out. you rolled your hips when you heard his small whine as your hand went to his mouth. shoving two fingers in his mouth, playing with his tongue that eagerly met your fingers. 

feeling his cock twitch inside you, you smirked down at the fucked out expression the man was giving you. you pressed down to his throat making him gag but his thrust never faltered and only quicken at your action.

“you look so fucking amazing, eijirou~” 

at your praise, his hips jerked and a loud moan followed it, a bit muffled by your fingers. riding him, you moaned at the pleasure he gave you as kirishima’s thick cock nudged your g-spot. 

the red-haired male groaned loudly around your fingers when he felt you clench around him, your velvety walls tight and warm as you rip an unexpected orgasm from him. 

hips jerking wildly when he suddenly came, pleasure coursing through his veins. a pathetic whimper escaping him when you continued to ride him. the sensitivity brought tears to his eyes but he didn’t stop you, body jerking when pain and pleasure hit him. 

“i wanna see you cum again, ei~” 

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

sn thirsts u say... i really want to be hard dommed by qin yi but also do it nice and gentle with him... I feel like rough and hard is his default but if you can get him in a mood to be slow and gentle he'd find he'd kind of like that a lot too...he'd still insist on topping, of course, but I think he'd like the change of pace... AHHHH I like him so much

hi hi anon!

you have a pretty spot-on analysis ( idea? thought? idfk ) for qin yi's sexual preference, at least in my opinion. he honestly seems like the type who is a mix of teasing and drawing out the foreplay as long as possible or sloppily fucking you in mattress, chasing his orgasm and barely able to see anything in the haze of lust he's stuck in. in all honesty, it depends on the situation and his mood before. and i can see him as a top, but he likes switching it around to keep it fun and to have a nice change of pace.

nsfw below!

when people think of qin yi, they think of many things. when his delicate features come to mind, graceful, polite, and handsome are likely the top words that pop into existence within their minds. they aren't exactly wrong to think that. that's what he shows to the public; what he wants them to see and believe to be true. but his true self is so much more than thatーmuch more complex, interwoven, and drowned out by the fake masks he's created and worn over the yearsーand it's almost like he's long since lost his true self.

it's almost rather pitiable, but you know better than to comment on that; it's something that shouldn't be touched on too often anyways. besides, the qin yi you know is far more different than what everyone else thought and saw.

to say being with him was an experienceー

was an absolute fucking understatement.

--

" hnn..!♡ aah!♡ ahh! w-wait, not ther-hiiii-?!"

you whimper loudly when qin yi's nips at your already bruised and tender neck, teeth pressing down against bare and sweaty skin and biting, almost near your erratic pulse. he knows it, and you can even feel his grin against your skin and you can only shudder as he simultaneously rolls his hips, purposefully dragging his cock against your clenching walls and against that spot that makes your head dizzy.

" oh my, you're rather expressive today aren't you?"

his silky smooth voice against your neck sends shivers up your spine, and his soft black locks tickle your skinーit's rather overwhelming honestlyーand although you want the engulfing sensations to stop, you don't want him to stop; you don't want qin yi to stop overwhelming you with him and his entirety.

" sh-shut up-hmmnngghhii-?!"

another thrust of his cock into your hole and you shriek, the throbbing sides rubbing against your oversensitive walls in all the right ways and qin yi rears his head back, peering down at you through disgustingly perfect lashes and still carrying that crescent-like smile on his kiss-swollen lips. he swipes his tongue across, barely touching the cool air and looking more like a predator about to devour its prey whole.

" so snarky..haven't i taught you to be more polite?"

another deep and rapid thrust into your ever spasming sends you reeling and moaning, forcing you to cling onto him like your very life depends on it. he chuckles cruelly, ignoring the stinging pain of your nails digging into his skin and instead gingerly pressing a kiss onto your cheek, smiling when you whimper from the intimate contact.

" mmm..tickles.."

you mumble, grunting as qin yi shifts about, adjusting his body's position until he's hovering over you, gripping your plush thighs tightly and staring down at you quietly, as if deep in thought. his silver eyes only swirl with life when you peer up at him in confusion, furrowing your brows.

" mnnnii-wh-what?"

he hums, shaking his head, strands of his hair flying about with his motion, before he goes back to leaning over you, the tip of his nose barely brushing up against yours.

" mmmm, it's nothing,"

he simply says before he loosens the grip he has on your thighs with his right hand, and you take that as your chance to wrap your legs around his waist--he simply chuckles but he lets you do so--and he rubs his smooth joints against your cheek, fingers caressing the skin gently and your eye closes on reflex.

" you're rather cute like this y'know?♡"

he purrs, smiling wide as your cheeks start to heat up and you avert your eyes out of embarrassment. after stroking your cheek for a little while longer, he retreats his hand and instead sinks it into the sheets below, gripping them tightly between his fingers, and does the same with his other hand, essentially trapping you beneath him--

just where he wants you to be.

" hey..can you make that face for me again?"

" wh-wha-HIIIII?!"

you throw your head back when qin yi suddenly starts sloppily thrusting into you, his cock rapidly rubbing against that spot over and over, making your vision blur and your toes curling back. shrieks and moans leave your mouth and you helplessly cling to him--you were drowning in a sea of lust and qin yi was the only thing barely keeping you above the burning waves of pleasure.

" nononono-HAA!♡ HAA!♡ HAA!♡ AHH!♡♡ OHH!!♡♡ AHHHH...!♡"

" yes..that's it, show me that cute face...!♡"

he talks so happily, the happiest you've heard him in a while now, but that thought leaves your mind when a perfectly angled thrust to your sensitive spot leaves you wailing and your legs clenching around him tighter, forcing him deeper in. he takes his rattling and heavy breaths, trying to keep himself stable while pounding away into your clenching walls, his slick cum coating everything with a sticky white. it feels too good, too overwhelming, and you feel like you'll break any second now.

" UGH!♡ AH! AHH! AH!♡ Mm!♡ Ah...!♡ Ahn!♡"

you let out short but high-pitched moans when your orgasm suddenly washes over you without any warning, leaving your body violently spasming and shuddering. but even then, you don't even get time to breathe because qin yi, despite his rather scrunched-up expression as your walls squeeze down tightly around his cock, he still keeps pounding into you, never stopping his hips rapid movements.

" w-wait qin yi-HIIIII?! i-i just came-you can't-AH!♡ AHN!♡

" i-it's alright, you can keep going-mnffhh-you can cum a few more times can't you?"

his face is so close to your sobbing one, except he's become much more out of breath, much more affected by the tight heat of your walls, expression nearly mirroring yours except much more held together and he's still somehow smiling. his question feels so simple, but even you know he wants to watch you fall apart beneath him while he crumbles alongside you.

and you want that in a way you can't even describe.

--

" this doesn't hurt, right...?"

" heh, n-not at all...you can do it a bit harder...like that...♡"

you clench an eye shut as qin yi's nimble and slender fingers gingerly pinch your tender nipples, inquisitive silver eyes searching your expression as he rolls the pebbled nubs in between his fingers. every so often he tugs them forward, and you bite back whimpers, the odd sensation sending tingles down towards your quivering sex. and all the while, he gives small thrusts up into your awaiting hole, twitching like crazy inside of you--the throbbing feels oddly good--and your head spins even more.

" aah...nnh..haah...nnh♡"

" do you want me to start moving..?"

" nnh♡...y-yeah.."

qin yi nods quietly, letting go of your now tender nipples and using his hands to push himself up until he's sitting perfectly upright and pressed snug against your chest--not that you minded of course--and he wraps his slender arms around your lower back. his hands press against either side of you, almost enough to feel ticklish, and he strokes your skin gently, humming in content and closing his silvery eyes. you raise a hand to stroke his short black locks, making sure to occasionally gently drag your nails against his scalp.

" you're rather quiet today..somethin' up?"

qin yi peaks up at you through feather-like lashes at your question and gives a short shake of his head, and you simply hum in response. he'd normally be fucking you stupid right about now, but instead, he's leaning into your touch, burying his face into your bare chest and barely moving his hips. hmm, you supposed it was one of those days...?

" you look pretty cute like this qin yi...♡"

" mmmnnn.."

he lets out a low hum, fingers lightly digging into your back at your words and you wince a bit from the pressure but it doesn't hurt too much. but you decide to softly laugh--he seems rather flustered from being called such an endearing name, especially by you--and you only barely shift your hips, gauging his reactions and movements.

" hmnnfff...mmnnnfff.."

qin yi groans, your gummy walls squeezing around him tighter and his grip on you tightens even more. he shudders, and his breaths against your skin become heavier and hotter--it tickles--and he gives a gentle thrust upwards, making a warbled moan spill out from your kiss-swollen lips.

" heh, thought you weren't gonna move qin yi.."

" ..i suppose i just wanted to leave you on edge was all."

"...that's stupid and you know it,"

you deadpan at his half-assed answer, giving him an impassive look and he chuckles at your expression, pulling his head from the confines of your chest until he's staring up at you with his signature smile, except it feels much more tender. you have a twitching urge to flick him on the forehead, but you don't really want to ruin the mood, so you hold it in. besides you can do it after.

" mmnn, sorry.. i just..want to hold you for a while, okay?"

he breathily whispers out words that pull on your heartstrings, and you can't help the soft expression that slips onto your face. qin yi gives you a small smile, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he could hear your rapid heartbeat. so you can't help it when you use one of your hands to partially cover up your mouth, and qin yi inquisitively tilts his head.

" did i say something wrong..?"

you shake your head frantically. " n-no..it's just--

i-'m smiling like a weirdo..."

he blinks--once, twice--before he starts gently laughing, soft and gentle like a bell's ringing in the air, and you feel even more heat rise to your cheeks, but you choose to avert your gaze out of embarrassment.

" s-stop laughing...!"

" ahaha, sorry, it's just you're so cute like this..♡"

qin yi smiles up at you, silver moon-like eyes swirling with fondness and contentment.

" so--

can you look at me now?"

you shiver, but you slowly draw your hand away from your lips, exposing your entire expression to qin yi, who looks eager to see you in all your bare glory.

" ghh, stop looking at me like that...'s making me feel embarrassed.."

" why though? i think you're rather lovely♡"

you jolt at his words, heat flooding to your head and making your heart pound even harder, but you still can't help the small, happy smile that creeps onto your lips.

" shut up..."

he chuckles once more, and simultaneously gives his hips a deep thrust, and you force yourself to bite back the moan that threatens to escape your mouth. oh yeah, you forgot about that...

" i'm gonna start moving...okay?"

" mnn..yeah.."

with a sudden but soft movement, qin yi gives another thrust up into your awaiting and eager hole, eyeing down your reaction, and seeming satisfied, he thrusts again, and again, slowly and gently rolling his hips. you whimper softly, his cock rubbing up against your walls in all the right ways and sending tingles up your spine.

" mmmnnff-o-oh..unnnhhh-!"

" nnmmghhh...hey, can i kiss you..?"

" nnnggghh...y-yeah.."

qin yi doesn't waste a second and firmly seals his lips against yours, moaning in satisfaction against the warmth of your mouth. you moan in surprise at how swiftly he kisses you, but you calm down soon enough and focus on grinding yourself down into qin yi, making sure to squeeze your walls down on his throbbing cock. he groans into the kiss, and his cock throbs erratically inside of you.

he feels so warm against you, and you don't know if you want to let him go.

[biisexualemma]

sister. oscar diaz

word count: 2727

warnings: very brief mention of sexual harassment but nothing explicit

requested: nope

plot: you’re trying to look out for your family

a/n: i’m working on requests i promise, please don’t think i forgot if i haven’t got around to yours yet! :(( but i wrote this sooooo long ago and never posted it but here it is. sorry i’m so slow at writing oop

masterlist

you came to pick up your sister. that was it. you didn't plan on getting mixed up in the heat of the party. you were gonna go in, grab her and get out. you were getting sick of having to pick up her drunk ass all the time, you were going to have to words when you found her. you pulled up outside the diaz house, noting all the people congregating outside. you took a deep breath, pulling the keys out the ignition and forcing yourself to go inside.

you walked passed the drunkards in the front yard, ignoring the cat calls from the santos members. you just kept your eyes forward and didn't react. once you got inside you had to force yourself through crowds of people, all, either drunk or high. you almost gagged at the smell in here. you never understood how people enjoyed these stupid parties. when you were in high school you never attended these kinds of things. you weren't unpopular, but you definitely kept to yourself despite what your friends would get up to. you were more school oriented. you were a college now, currently enjoying your summer break. that was when you weren't running around after your sister, making sure she was safe. everything was so different in freefridge to how it was when you were growing up. it wasn't as safe. plus, she'd been on and off with spooky's little brother, so you definitely had to keep a close eye on her. you knew what spooky was like. you went to school with him, he was a couple grades above you but you got the gist of him.

you huffed, reaching the back yard, you looked around still not spotting your sister or any of her dumb friends. if she got off without you again, you were going to kill her. she could be so stupid when she was drunk, which was exactly why you had to find her before someone else did.

you spotted spooky across the yard and quickly marched over to him. you stuck out from the crowd. everyone was dressed for a party. you were in wearing jeans and a tee with no makeup and your jacket wrapped around you. you didn't care. you didn't care about any of these people. you recognised some of them from around the block, some from school, but most of them were santos. right now, you just wanted to find monse.

"spooky," you caught his attention. he turned to face you, pulling out of the conversation he was in with other santos members. they eyed you up. you frowned, disgusted by their smirks. you ignored them and turned back to spooky, shaking your head. "where's your stupid lil' brother?"

"lil' spooky?" one of the santos chimed in, oscar raised an eyebrow when he was spoken over. the guy continued to talk though regardless of the way spooky was looking at him. "he already left with some fine ass hyna. come party with some real hombres, mami."

you rolled your eyes. "was i talking to you, coño?" you hated the santos. they walked around so entitled. like they owned everything and anyone. you wanted to slap some sense into this guy. you came to find your sister, not see how many guys can hit on you in one night. you turned back to spooky who was wearing a smirk, as he watched you tell his boys off.

"you wanna start somethin', puta?" he retaliated. you balled your hands into fists. you couldn't take much more from boys tonight. if cesar really had ran off with your sister again you were gonna kill them both.

before you could go off, spooky grabbed your arm and pulled you to his side. he frowned at the santos member that was causing trouble with you. "fuck off somewhere else, pendejo,” they did as he said and dispersed. you were still pissed.

"nice friends you've got there," you huffed, pulling your arm out of his grip. you'd had enough. you'd been here for ten minutes and that was long enough. now you were looking at him properly, you noticed his eyes were stinging red. he was definitely high. "and you're high, so you're not gonna be much help."

you ran your hand across your face. you were stressed. you just wanted to keep monse safe. you hated when she got herself into situations like this and rang you to get her out of them.

"damn, what's up your ass?" he joked, stifling a laugh.

"don't," you pointed a warning finger at him. "it's your brother who's off with my sister right now, god knows where. probably dragging her into some mess she doesn't need to be in," you were really going off on him. he could tell you were really just worried and everything else was just adding unnecessary stress. "you santos have a way of causing shit."

he frowned, slightly offended by your comments. "ey, mami, whatever mess your mana is in. i'm sure she can get herself out of it. don't be coming for lil' spooky—"

"he's put my sister through enough heartbreak so i'm entitled to hate him,” you crossed your arms over your chest. you didn't care in oscar was this big scary gang leader. not much scared you, never mind a guy who called himself spooky.

he continued to look down at you with a sour expression. you weren't afraid to say exactly what you were thinking, you certainly didn't hold back around him. he kinda liked it. he never thought much of you, he vaguely remembered you from school and has seen you around now and again whenever he was picking up cesar.

"she's a big girl," oscar scoffed, raising an eyebrow at you. anyone else spoke about his brother like that and he'd knock 'em out. "she doesn't need you chasin' after her."

you through your hands up in frustration. you were getting nowhere with him. "she's fifteen and she's drunk. and all i know is right now that she's off with a santos."

he didn't like the way you said santos. like it was shameful to you that your sister should be seen with a santos. he shook his head, ignoring your comment again. he wasn't gonna fight with you over this, you were too worked up and he was too high. he sighed, rolling his eyes. "if she's with cesar. she's fine."

"you don't know that," he watched you, jittering slightly the longer this conversation dragged out. you should be looking for her, not arguing with oscar. he understood how you were feeling. oscar couldn't count the amount of times he's had to chase after cesar to back him up, or pick him up. he was a pain in the ass, always getting himself into trouble. but he was a good kid. he would never get monse involved in that shit. he knew that.

"yeah i do," you met his eyes again, worry now consuming you. you ran your hand through your hair, a nervous habit you had. "cesar's a good kid. i raised him. he won't let anything happen to her," his lips pulled into a straight line as he watched you eye him up.

"if you raised him then i'm definitely worried," oscar rolled his eyes.

"what's that supposed to mean?" he scoffed. he'd had enough of you mouthing off about cesar, and the santos. you didn't know when to stop talking.

"i know you."

"nah, you don't though ."

"but i know guys like you," you frowned. "and you ain't shit. so don't tell me how to feel,” you snapped. you were breathing pretty heavy. "i gotta go find my sister,” you turned away from him, leaving the party as quick as you could. you pushed through the crowds, taking a deep breath when you finally got outside again. the cat calls continued as you walked across his front yard. you ignored them. continuing to your car that you'd parked down the street.

"ey!" you flipped around to see oscar running down the street towards you. "what the fuck you doing? you just gonna walk around till' you find 'em?"

you furrowed your brows. "it's none of your business."

"my brother. my business,” he retorted.

you rolled your eyes. "now you care? get lost, oscar. i can find her myself."

"i'm not letting you walk by yourself,” you started to walk away from him, taking a few steps backwards. you scoffed at his comment.

"not letting me?" your eyes widened. "i don't need you telling me what i can and can't do, too. alright?"

oscars expression stayed the same, furrowed brows and lips pursed. you knew how to push his buttons. you were so angry and stubborn he wanted to shake you so you'd calm down. but you could tell oscar wasn't budging on this one.

you sighed. "i have a car."

oscar eyed you for a second. you were awaiting his response but it never came. he walked passed you, nudging your shoulder as he did. "what're you doing now?" you huffed.

"coming with. which ones yours?" he looked over his shoulder, he waved his finger between the row of cars.

"i don't need you to come with me."

"i know," oscar shrugged. "still coming."

"do you really have to?" you rolled your eyes, carrying on walking again, guiding oscar to your car parked up the street. he looked your car up and down and shuddered.

"this is what you drive?" he frowned.

"it's what i can afford,” you didn't look at him, "we can't all be rich off drug money,” unlocking the doors and climbing into the drivers seat. you'd had enough of him, you didn't care if he came or went at this point. still, oscar slid into the passenger seat without a word. he looked straight ahead, his jaw tensed. you felt like you'd said something wrong. you didn't think he took anything to heart. it's not like he knew you even existed before tonight.

you both drove in silence around the block. both keeping an eye out because in reality you had no idea where you were going or what to look out for. you hated monse right now. a simple text was all it took for her to tell you she was ok.

"why you hate me so much? you don't even know me." he spoke after a long period of silence. you glanced at him out the corner of your eyes while you continued to drive slow down the street, checking your side of the street for any sight of your sister. oscar was doing the same on his side.

"i don't," you mumbled, half paying attention. you didn't want to talk to him anymore. "i hate your stupid gang."

"los santos,” you scoffed.

"you're kidding?" he didn't budge. he watched you for an answer. you sighed. "you're pigs. you're supposed to be saints? you're supposed to protect our block? all you do is scare people. you're just bullies."

he was quiet for a moment. you glanced at him again, seeing him looking right back at you. he wore a stern look on his face still. you wondered whether he ever changed his expression. he always looked angry or bored. "do i scare you?"

"no," you were quick to reply. oscars eyes never moved from you, you could feel him watching you while you drove. "but your friends are misogynistic assholes, who know how to make girls feel uncomfortable."

"why you so angry all the time, mami?" oscar fought back. he was sick of you coming at him all the time. he hadn't done anything to you that he was aware of. you were just mean. "what we ever done to you?"

"plenty," you could count the number of times santos members had rolled up, shouting at you from their cars. or how many times you'd been felt up at parties. how many times you'd been made to feel uncomfortable.

"name one," oscar challenged. you were sick of him. sick. you ignored him. you weren't about to amuse him. he didn't know half the things his precious santos got up to clearly. "you can't can you—"

"will you shut up?" you snapped. oscar was taken aback. he was joking but clearly he misread the situation. he furrowed his brows. you quickly looked over at him, disgusted. "you wouldn't get it. you're one of them. you're a stupid boy who loves to make girls feel small and insecure."

"you don't know me, ma."

"see! stop calling me shit like that!" you slammed your hands on the wheel, you couldn't take much more from him. you quickly pulled up to the curb. you took a deep breath, running your hand through your hair. oscar was regretting get in the car with you now.

"why do you hate us so much?" he asked again. you were too defensive to be telling the truth. he wanted to know why you were so against him and his gang. he couldn't work it out in his head.

you shook your head, quiet for a long time before you finally answered him. he sat patiently, not moving while he waited.

"i slept with one of your boys," you admitted. "a long time ago," you kept your eyes locked straight ahead you didn't want to see the judgement in his eyes. "i told him i didn't wanna do it again— because i wasn't ready. so he told everyone i was a massive whore. and everyone believed him. and guys never stopped coming for me. cat calling. lifting up my skirt. trying to make me do stuff behind the bleachers—" you sighed, closing your eyes tight when you thought about it. you hadn't talked about this in a long time. you'd tried not to think about it, tried to put it behind you when you finally finished high school.

"so don't act like your friends aren't shitty people. because they're the worst," you clenched the steering wheel, your knuckles turning white. you didn't want him to feel sorry for you. you didn't want to tell him any of that but he wouldn't stop pestering you for an answer.

"i didn't know,” he mumbled. you turned your head slightly, watching him now his expression had changed. you couldn't figure out what he was thinking. "sorry."

"it doesn't matter," you shook your head. you stuck the keys back in the ignition and turned them. "can you just do me one favour?"

he nodded. "ring cesar. ask him about monse,” he nodded again, pulling out his phone. he didn't think twice before finding his brothers number.

"i raised him better than that," he mumbled quietly. "if your sisters with cesar. she's good. i promise."

you nodded, somehow believing him. he pressed his phone to his ear, cesar almost immediately picking up. something about the expression on oscars face made you feel weird. he seemed to care all of a sudden. he wasn't teasing you anymore.

you listened intently as he spoke on the phone to his brother before hanging up briefly afterwards. "well?" you asked hopefully.

"they're at jamal's."

you breathed a sigh of relief. "lets go. i'm gonna kick both their asses for putting me through that."

"i'll be whooping cesar's ass, don't worry," you shot him a small smile before pulling off and driving to jamal's house. it was a long-ish drive seeing as he lived a little further away than the rest of the gang but the ride was quiet. neither of you spoke till you pulled up outside the house.

oscar unbuckled his seatbelt, about to hop out when you touched his hand. he quickly turned back to you. "what? what's up?"

"can you not tell anyone about what i told you before?" he furrowed his brows. he didn't realise that you thought he would. "i don't want monse to know about any of that shit. ok?"

he nodded. "secrets safe with me, mami — i mean—"

"no— it's alright," you shook your head when the pet name slipped out. "it's kind of nice when you say it."

his lips grew into a stupid smirk. you pushed his shoulder, laughing gently. "shut up and come on,” you couldn't help but feel a little differently towards him than you did at the start of the night.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

From Eden: Three

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness, grieving, trauma, panic attack; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: I know it’s been a while...

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

When Dr. Tisha and Lorena left last night, they were still angry with me. I didn’t care much as both of them lectured me again over that man. I told them the same things I had before. I don’t want to know him.

 They suggested at least that I save the money I made for a day out. Lorena said it would be good for me to try to go into town and do some shopping myself, for myself. The thought made me choke but I just smiled and said, “we’ll see.”

 Now I’m awake, early again. I keep hearing things in the yard. I tell myself it’s a raccoon or something else, maybe even a bat! One got in the house last year and I locked myself in the bathroom until I was brave enough to grab the broom and chase it out. Looking back, it’s sort of funny.

I looked out the window but I just saw shadows that made me nervous. The bird bath was eerie in the dark and the shed looked decrepit. I thought I saw something move along the wall but I’m sure it’s only me being tired.

 I did try to go back to sleep but then I started thinking about things I haven’t thought of in a long time. About the things I told Tisha I never want to think or talk about ever again. 

Then I thought about grandma and mama. Why did they have to leave me?

Later

I was in the garden when it started to rain. It started with a big crack of thunder and I almost screamed at how scary it was. It came so fast I barely got inside before I was soaked through. Then I giggled at myself as I stripped out of my muddy jeans and wet tee shirt.

When I was a kid, I used to love to dance out in the rain, or just stand and let it wash over me. When my mother died, it stormed and I sat in the downpour until I got sick. The drops hid my tears and numbed the pain of that lonely ten-year-old. I’m older now but sometimes I still feel like a kid.

 I watched the sky darken through the window and the smell of the rain in the dirt was comforting. I made tea and kept watching. The sky would flash, a cacophony of awe, and I felt as if I was living in an old Hitchcockian shot. I liked to think there was a camera there to catch the perfectly framed scene, the frightening and frantic swell of the storm that reflected the suspense of the human catastrophe about to take place.

 Then the horror was no longer just in my mind. I cleaned my cup and turned. As I passed through the dark hall I saw a shadow flash at the window of the door. I gasped and rushed forward to check the latch but the figure was gone. I peeked out and there was nothing.

 Now I’m still awake and I think I just got carried away with my imagination. I’m watching The Wizard of Oz but the colours aren’t as bright as they used to be. At least, they don’t seem like it.

🖊

Monday

I don’t remember falling asleep. It must’ve been late, or early depending how you look at it. I woke up to the blue screen as the VCR had stopped and rewound the tape. It was still dark, the sky hungover from the wild night.

 I made blueberry tea. It was too sweet after I let it steep for too long. I watched the morning birds bask in the full bird bath and slowly the sun began to shine down. It’s brighter now and I’m going to try to fix the shed window.

🖊

Tuesday

I couldn’t write anymore yesterday. Not after what happened.

I can’t.

🖊

Wednesday

I 

On Monday, I

He was here.

 I was hammering the board back into place and I hit my finger into the nail. The metal left a painful blister and my knuckle split and bled. I cried out and dropped the hammer as I held my hand and tried not to tear up.

“You alright?” he asked and I looked at him, afraid.

He was at the gate. Had he been there, watching me? I nodded and wrinkled my nose in pain. I couldn’t bend the top of my finger. I hid my hand and left the mess on the ground as I rushed to the front door to hide inside.

“Hey,” he called as I whimpered, dumbly trying to turn the handle with my hurt hand, “you’re hurt. I can help.”

 I shook my head as my finger throbbed. I looked at it and cringed. It was really bad.

“I just want to help.”

“Why are you here?” I watched the door creak open and didn’t look back at him, “why are you bugging me?”

“I was just walking by and I heard you,” he said, “I know how to set your finger… or I can take you to the hospital.”

I didn’t want to go to a hospital. The thought makes my stomach hurt. I hate hospitals.

“I can deal with it.”

“You’re bleeding a lot,” he insisted and I was getting really annoyed.

“What do you care?” I don’t understand him or why he kept bothering me and hanging around my gate!

“Well, I won’t lie to you, your friend, Tisha, she told me to keep an eye on you,” he said through the bars, “so yes, I was watching you.”

“She’s not… not my friend,” I was so angry. Why would she do that!? She doesn’t even know him, I don’t know him, “she’s my doctor.”

“Can I help you with your finger? I’ll stop watching but you need to get it set and soon.”

“I don’t care. I got nine others.” I was mean and didn't care.

“Then I can call your doctor? She gave me her number in case--”

“No, no,” he couldn’t call her. She’d be mad at you and she’d make you go to the hospital, “don’t call her, please. Just… stay here.”

 I went inside and with one hand, I searched under the counter for the dinged old white chest. I pulled it out by the thin metal handle and went back outside. The way he watched me made me nervous even though he was so calm.

“If I let you in, you have to leave right after,” I said as fearsomely as I could, “and this is the only time you’re ever coming in.”

“You’re shaking really bad, that must hurt,” he looked at my hand and ignored my warning.

“Do you get it!? You have to promise to leave after.”

“Sure, just let me help,” he nodded.

 unlocked the gate and slowly opened it for him. We sat at the patio table as he searched through the old box of first aid gear. He took out gauze and found two straight sticks from the garden. He tested their strength and sat back down.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

 I reluctantly put my hand on the table and hissed at the pain in my finger. He cleaned it carefully and I looked away as he went about his task. It hurt less not seeing it. When he finished wrapping it up, I pulled away and stood.

“Good, now go,” I pointed to the gate.

“That won’t be good for more than a day,” he stood, “I have some real splints at my house. I could come back-”

“I told you, no,” you jabbed your hand towards the gate, “out.”

He was quiet and he looked around. His jaw set as he considered the thick garden and his eyes narrowed.

“The flowers are doing good,” he said.

“Please, leave,” I begged, he was making me nervous. 

I was still shaking but not from the pain. I remembered that night, it wasn’t just one, it was several, and they laughed as they stood over me. They were smaller than him, just teenagers, like me, but they still hurt me.

“Go!” I shouted, “go! Go! Go!”

 He grabbed my shoulders as I began to hyperventilate. I hadn’t been so worked up in a long time and I could stop as the fit began. I chanted the word over and over as my body shook so violently and my voice became only deep and painful breaths. My chest burned so bad.

 I didn’t remember what happened after that. I only remember him in my house. I was on the couch and Dr. Tisha was there too. 

When I could speak again, I asked her to make him go. She ignored me and said that he helped me, that he had kept me safe by calling her. 

 But I saw his smile and how he looks at me. I saw the way he paced around the house and noted every inch of it. I watched him as Tisha fed me chamomile tea.

 She didn’t want to leave me alone, she said. She thought I should go to the hospital for my finger and for a mental evaluation. I sucked up the panic in my chest and told her I was okay, that I remembered the exercises and it wouldn’t happen again. I could tell she didn’t really believe me.

“I’ll stay with her,” Bucky offered and my eyes rounded.

“I’ll be fine,” I told Tisha before she could respond.

“You’re not fine,” she said, “in good conscience, if you won’t go to the hospital, I need someone here to monitor you.”

“Lorena--”

“She’s off-the-clock. I can’t expect her to come here right now, she has other clients.”

 I frowned and crossed my arms and crushed my injured finger, “why can’t you stay?”

“Well, I left a session for this and I have others waiting on me. I would stay if it was an option. Listen,” she sat and spoke to me like I was a child, “this man is a public servant. He is a good man, in fact, I think he’s a lot like you. Now it would be wrong of me to go into detail about his experiences but I have it on good authority that he knows better than even me what you’re going through.”

 I shook my head and pouted, “I won’t hurt myself. Not again.”

“I wish I could believe you,” she said, “but recently you’ve shown some serious regression. If you keep arguing with me, I will be obligated to have you escorted to the hospital and kept for seventy-two hours...

Or Bucky can stay until Lorena comes by tomorrow and I can return.”

“I didn’t do anything. I got nervous.”

“I won’t ask again.”

“Fine, fine, he can stay,” I gave up. The thought of another hold at the hospital was enough to make me give in. I couldn’t do that again.

So Bucky stayed and I didn’t sleep. Again.

And I didn’t write and I can’t anymore. I don’t feel good.

🖊

Thursday

There’s a lot to catch up on but I don’t want to write about it. I never want to think about it again.

Bucky’s gone, Lorena and Tisha made their visit on Tuesday, and I’m fine.

I’m fine.

🖊

Friday

 feel him still. He’s watching me. I know he is! 

 He was in my house, he slept on my couch, he walked through my halls. I smell him still and it makes me sick.

 I see him through the gate, he doesn’t try to hide anymore. I called Tisha for my daily check-ins. I’m back to those again. I told her he was watching and she told me he was only concerned. She said I was exaggerating. She thinks I’m crazy!

 The walls used to protect me. I used to hide behind them but now I just feel trapped.

 He’s watching again. I see him through the window. He’s at the gate, his metal hand on the bar as he searches for me. I’m going away before he sees me. I’m turning out all the lights and locking the doors.

🖊

Saturday

The gate is broken again. The face of the lock fell off and one of the bars is bent through several others.

 The lower hinge is busted and I found footprints in the dirt. There are tulips missing from the garden, the pink ones. I got those bulbs from grandma, her last gift to me. I’m sad.

 The doors are still locked and all the curtains are closed. I can’t even turn on the TV.

Later

He was in the house! I know he was! The window to my bedroom was open and the blankets on my bed were all messed up. I woke up on the couch as I usually do. I feel asleep reading a book with only a candle. The candle was out and the pages of the book were bent.

 I got up to go to the bathroom. I felt weird. My shorts were damp with sweat. The house is so hot with the windows shut. I stopped when I noticed my bedroom was open, I always closed the door.

 It’s really hard to write because I’m still shaking. It wasn’t just the window or the blankets. There were pink tulips on my pillow. 

I know it’s him. He’s playing a game with me, a game I don’t like.

 I’m scared and I hear someone in the garden. I can’t remember if I locked my bedroom window. I was so afraid, I can’t remember.

I can’t remember.

I can’t~~

[binniedeactivated]

txt reactions. ||  👾👾

them using your insecurity against you in a fight..(pt.2)

a/n; I’m so sorry I waited so long but I finally did a part 2 to this. enjoy!!

soobin ; you stood back, stunned. the way he said it-- as casual as if he were telling you what to get from the grocery store or something. it didn’t take long for him to notice that you were no longer walking down the hallway with him. you were still standing in place. you didn’t know what gotten into him today but you can definitely say all the excitement you had for the carnival was long gone. “what did you say?”. you croak after the moment of silence between the heated gazes you both shared at opposites sides of the hallway. “you’re gaining weight”. he repeated blankly. anger boiled through your veins. you clench your fists. “why the hell would you say something like that soobin?”. 

“why wouldn’t I? you’re over here getting dressed up and shit. all of this makeup caked on your face just so you can go see yeonjun. you never wear any of this shit for me. you don’t do any of this for me”. 

“is that what this is about? you think I’m excited to see yeonjun? soobin I did all of this for you. It’s been a long time since the both of us went out. I couldn’t wait to spend the day with you. are you kidding me right now?”. 

soobin’s heart dropped at your words. he swallowed with guilt eating him alive. he toyed with his fingers while his eyes filled with sorrow.

“and for you to sit here and make fun of something you know I’m insecure about..that’s low. really low. fuck you. I don’t want to go to that stupid carnival anymore”. 

you turned on your heels to walk away trying to hide your tears from soobin. you didn’t want him to know you were hurt by his comment. you wanted him to get the hell away from you if anything.

“babe I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I was just angry I thought you were trying to show off for yeon--”. 

“and why would I do that when I’m with you? If I wanted yeonjun don’t you think I’d be his girlfriend instead of yours? I really don’t want to talk to you right now. just leave me alone”. you mutter before shutting your apartment door.

he immediately follows you there but ends up knocking instead since you locked him out. he was knocking on the door for nearly 20 minutes while you were too busy crying. you were at the point in your life when you were finally being comfortable with yourself for a change. thanks to your boyfriend, your hard work went to waste. “can you please open the door? I’m sorry”. you sniffle, “you’re not sorry. you meant what you said. what was the point of that soobin? you’re tall and naturally really skinny I’m sorry I can’t be like that. and for you to make me feel bad about my body? this has to be one of the worst things you’ve ever done”.“I was just jealous okay? I didn’t mean it I swear”. “you’re a liar”. “no really, I didn’t mean it”. he pleads. “then why would you say it? and why would you say it like that? like I disgust you or something? I haven’t been in control of my weight because you made me happy about how I was. now I’m having doubts”. “don’t have doubts baby you’re perfect I’m just a piece of shit sometimes. I’m the insecure one here”. “whatever. just go away soobin”. he sighs in defeat. “babe? you remember that time we all went shopping together? me and the boys and you were hanging with their girlfriends”. “what about it?”. “and remember you tried on that tight dress but got cold feet because you didn’t know what the other girls would think since they’re much smaller?”. “yes”. “and I went into the dressing room and made you come out of there and show everyone how you looked because you looked so gorgeous to me? you’ll always look gorgeous to me. I meant that. I don’t care how much you weigh at all. it never bothered me and if it did I wouldn’t be with you. I just get jealous that someone someday is going to take my little thick princess away from me. I get scared that they’ll appreciate your curves more than I ever could”.

you sniffled again. hoping that this would be the first and last time he said something this hurtful to you because you wanted to forgive him. “I love you so much. I don’t know what I was thinking saying any of that to you. and until you open this door, i’m going to go buy the tightest clothes I can find just to show you off in them all”. he laughs knowing it would win you over and it did. you pulled open the door and stood to the tips of your toes to hug him. “I love you too. don’t say anything like that again”.

yeonjun ; you stormed out of the bedroom now into the bathroom where he was. “are you serious jun?!”. you say angrily knocking over the toothbrush holder. “that’s what the fuck you do?! that’s what you say?!”. 

“no but if you keep assuming shit it’s what i’m going to start doing. I told you I wasn’t looking at anyone else!”. 

“it doesn’t even matter anymore! they look better than me huh?! you probably meant that didn’t you?”.

he bit his lips realizing what he just did. “I didn’t mean to say that. you just get me so angry sometimes I feel like I have to say shit just to hurt your feelings and shut you up”. 

“so you saying that those women look better than me is just something to shut me up?! everyone knows when you’re in a fit of rage you say what you really feel. and if they look better than me why don’t you go be with them then?!”. 

“because I don’t want to be with them! I want to be with you and everyone knows that but you. you’re so fucking insecure sometimes it pisses me off”. 

“maybe I wouldn’t be so insecure if I had someone who made me feel like I belong to them”. 

“so all of this is on me? you get mad at your own assumptions and blame it all on me?!”. 

“yes it’s your fucking fault yeonjun. I’m tired of talking about it. I’m leaving if that’s how you really feel”. 

“you know what?”. he says with frustration in his tone. but by then you were already halfway to the bedroom planning on packing your things and leaving. 

“leave me alone!”. you yell. he does nothing but follows you. “no! you know what?”. he repeats. he finally grabs your wrists in an attempt to force your gaze on him. but you did everything but that. “look at me”. he breathed. “no”.

“i said look at me”. your eyes flared up into his, waiting for whatever he was about to say. 

“none of this is about me. it’s not. it’s about you. you love me so much you think every girl out there sees what you see in me. you make up shit in your head and go off on assumptions that aren’t true and that’s not fair to me. I’m sorry for what I said. alright? that was an asshole move and I shouldn’t be talking to you like that. If i meant it I’d be trying to get with all of those girls right now but I’m not. I’m here with you trying to work shit out. I love you okay?”.

beomgyu ; you sit back wondering where you went wrong in all of this. you thought everything was damn near perfect. the hair, the lingerie. even the night was perfect. he’d just gotten off of work and he was really stressed. this surely could’ve calmed him down a bit. couldn’t it? 

“then who is sexually desirable to you beomgyu?”. you say more calmly than you rehearsed it in your head. 

“forget about it. I’m going to sleep”. he says rolling over underneath the blankets. you bit the inside of your cheeks. 

“have you been cheating on me?”. 

“no I haven’t”. 

“if I’m not what you want then who do you want?”. 

“why do you keep going on about this?”. 

“how can’t I? you just said you don’t want me sexually. after I picked out this lingerie for you. got dressed for you. waited until you got home just so I could surprise you. that’s heartbreaking and you expect me to forget about it?”. 

“you know what’s heartbreaking?”. 

“what? please tell me”. 

“feeling like you’re own girlfriend doesn’t love you anymore”.

you blink. “gyu? what are you talking about”.

“you give everyone attention but me it’s like I’m not even here anymore. you’re always out with your friends. always out partying or going somewhere I wasn’t invited. even if we’re spending time together you can’t last one minute away from your phone, you’re always on social media dressing sexy and seeking validation for what? Am I not enough for you? When will I ever be enough for you?”.

“beomgyu--”.

“and if you spend all of this time away from me how will you ever be able to turn me on? we haven’t had sex in months. If I can’t feel you emotionally how will I ever feel you physically?”. 

you sigh at his words with your heart wrenching at his pain. you hadn’t noticed any of this. you thought you were just living life but you haven’t thought about how negatively it was affecting your relationship.

“i’m sorry gyu. I didn’t notice I was doing all of that. I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough for me”. he breathes with his eyes still glaring in the opposite direction. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. it’s not that I think you’re not sexy but I have feelings too. I want you in every possible way. not just sex. okay?”. 

you lean over hugging and kissing his cheeks. he was so cute when he was mad, his little pouty lips and puppy dog eyes. “from now on you will have my undivided attention. I love you”.

taehyun ; he looked so smug you hated it. you hated it entirely. 

“fuck you you’re an asshole. and I hope you know that making fun of your girlfriend for her size isn’t something you should be this proud about. it makes you look like an ass”. you say while grabbing your things. you didn’t plan on being there much longer if that was how he was going to be speaking to you. 

“where are you going?”.

“I’m leaving your stupid ass. you think you’re about to belittle me and I’m going to stay here kissing your ass?”. you throw your purse over your shoulder and head to the door. he clutches your arm but you snatch it back. 

“don’t touch me. you can have any girl you want right? because you’re so cute and you just have it all figured out? you shouldn’t be chasing me”. 

he glares down at you with a somber expression realizing what he did. he was about to lose you and he didn’t want that. 

he clenches his jaw. “fine. I was wrong”. 

you roll your eyes. “I know you were”. you quip before continuing on your journey. he pulls you back harder. “I wasn’t done speaking”. 

“I’m supposed to respect you now after you just said all that to me?”. 

“we’re both petty alright? we both always argue about how much better each of us could’ve done. how I could’ve gotten a better woman and how you could’ve gotten a better man. but truth be told we’re perfect for each other. I can’t see myself with anyone else and I don’t want to lose you over some ego”. 

“if you didn’t want to lose me you shouldn’t have insulted me like that”.

“you’re right and I’m an ass. that shit was uncalled for.  I can’t stand to think of you with someone else and I just wanted to tear you down enough so you wouldn’t go to anyone else and that was fucked up of me. your body isn’t what makes you a woman and since I’m a man, I shoudn’t be judging what makes you a woman. only you can do that. but you’re woman enough for me and you always were”. 

you sigh staring at the sincerity in his pearly eyes. you pointed your finger in his face, “one day I’m going to slap the shit out of you”. he chuckles with his face just centimeters from yours. you playfully grab his jaw and force his attention on you. 

“I’m serious you need to watch your mouth sometimes”. he nods, staring at your lips. “I’m sorry. you can slap me now if you want”. 

you suck your teeth and kiss him instead. “I hate you taehyun”. 

“I hate you too”.

heuning kai ; you looked at him with a dumbfounded expression, surprised that he even took it there.

“is it always about money with you?! because if so I can always leave and you can go date the rich girl you’ve always wanted. I’m sick of arguing about money with you”. 

“i never said I wanted a rich girl”. 

“you’re sure as hell acting like it. you knew ever since I lost my job I’ve been struggling to find a new one and struggling to help pay for things. why are you getting on me about that?”. 

“why are you always trying be in control of everything? no matter what it is you always want to have the last say”. 

“I don’t control everything. and just because I don’t pay for everything in this house I don’t have a say in anything? we share this space together and you need to respect me just as much as I respect you”. 

he paused for a swift moment, “I do respect you”. 

“no the hell you don’t. especially when you use something I’m insecure about just to have your way. Do i put a price tag on everything that I pay for and tag it as mine? no. we share it together. so why are you doing that?”. 

he paused yet again but you didn’t give him a chance to speak once you got the clue. 

“what is it kai? why are you acting like this? what do you want? some control?”.

he breathes, “I’ll admit yes I used your insecurity against you just to get my way. but that’s only because I never get my way. it’s always about what you want and it’s always about what you say. whenever I try to say something you always downplay it. why do you do that? why do you downsize and berate me like that? “. 

“I don’t downsize you kai”. 

“yes you do you always treat me like I’m some kid. I don’t like that”. 

looking at how stressed he was it was easy to see that you’d been doing things that was affecting him horribly. and it was also easy to see that the both of you clearly had things you needed to work out and it all came spilling out badly. 

“alright we haven’t been effectively communicating. that’s our problem. I don’t like when you mention my financial struggles in anything. it’s hurtful and it’s not going to do anything but make me despise you. I want you to stop that”. 

“and I don’t want you to keep babying me anymore. I wanted to be treated how you treat everyone else. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings like that”. 

“I’m sorry for doing that to you. I just love you a lot and I want the best for you”. 

he pouts his lips while he approaches you, snuggling his head into your chest. you grin, “how can you expect me not to baby you when you do stuff like this?”. 

“baby me only when I’m feeling vulnerable. i’ll stop mentioning price tags. everything in this house is stuff that we own together”. 

you move his hair aside and kiss him on his forehead. “good”.

“except for my nintendo switch”. he utters.

[dilly-oh]

Laundry Day

    It had been building for weeks now. Piling up, bit by bit. Iruka ignored it for as long as he could, shoving it to the back of his mind and going about his daily business, teaching at the Academy and pulling shifts at the Mission Desk like nothing was wrong. But eventually, even he could deny it no longer. When he checked his closet and found that all he had to wear was a single ketchup-or-maybe-blood-stained crop-top, tight yoga shorts, and flip-flops, he knew it was finally time to stop putting it off. There was no other choice left. 

    He had to do laundry.

    “Oh my God, who did you kill?” Anko asked as he dragged the bulging laundry bag down the hallway of his apartment complex.

    “You, if you don't back off,” Iruka snapped at her. “There's just enough room in here for a body.”

    “I sincerely doubt that,” Anko said, cocking an eyebrow at the huge bag. “Seriously, what gives? That thing must be, like, a hundred pounds. Is this some kind of new training craze?”

    “It's laundry day,” Iruka stated. Anko blinked. “I haven't done laundry in two months,” he went on impatiently. “It's kind of hard to find the time between my job teaching, my job at the Mission Desk, and my other job keeping Naruto and Sasuke from killing or kissing each other in public, and since they all count as full-time jobs with none of the benefits, I literally have nothing else to wear.” 

    “Ah. That would explain the booty shorts.”

    “They're called yoga shorts, and they're comfortable.”

    “I don't care what they're called, your ass looks amazing in them.”

    “Stop ogling me!” Iruka barked, his cheeks flaming. Anko's eyes didn't move. “Am I gonna have to go have another talk with HR?” Anko paled.

    “Oh, God, please don't. Last time I had to watch a three-hour film on sexual harassment in the workplace. I had to take notes. There was a quiz after.” 

    “Then stop. STARING.” Iruka gave Anko one last glare, then continued on his way, dragging his laundry bag after him with all the dignity he could muster. Which wasn't alot, considering the bag was heavy as fuck and he'd kinda been neglecting his standard workout routine. Because, you know, three jobs or whatever. 

    There were quite a few laundromats scattered about Konoha, all stocked with specialized, heavy-duty cleaning supplies for shinobi needs (to aid in the removal of blood, guts, and other icky bits picked up from slaughtering enemies and whatnot). The one Iruka usually frequented was located about ten blocks away, which normally wasn't too bad, especially if Iruka went by rooftop. However, that was quite impossible at the moment, considering his giant bag of dirty clothes was hefty and ungainly enough that it would probably squirt right out of his arms and kill an unfortunate pedestrian below. Also, it was the middle of summer and the sun had decided to be an asshole that day, blazing down like some kind of fire Jutsu and scalding every living thing in sight. To make matters worse, the laundry bag seemed to grow heavier with every step until it was like dragging Hokage mountain down the street. So by the time Iruka finally managed to heave the bag halfway across Konoha and up a flight of stairs into the laundromat itself, he was a hot, sweaty mess, his ponytail half-undone and hanging in his face, damp clothing sticking to his skin. 

    Which was exactly why Hatake motherfucking Kakashi was in there, of fucking course. There was no way Iruka's silly little crush wouldn't be in the one place he'd hoped he wouldn't be. 

    Iruka wanted to crawl into the nearest drier and turn it on.

    Maybe he won't see me, he thought as he quietly slipped inside.

    “Hey, Iruka!” Kotetsu shouted from across the entire laundromat. “Nice shorts!” 

    Everyone immediately turned to look.

    Well I know who I'm going to kill now, Iruka thought to himself miserably as he was ogled by every shinobi in the room. He made a mental checklist and vowed to prank each one in retaliation. His body was a temple.

    “You know you could have just stuffed that in a scroll,” Genma said after peeling his gaze off Iruka's thighs, twitching his senbon at the bulging bag. 

    “I'll stuff you in a fucking scroll,” Iruka hissed at him, wiping a sweaty strand of hair out of his face.

    “Ooh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Genma cooed.

    “You're disgusting,” Iruka said flatly. He glanced around, looking for a table with any inch of free space, perfectly willing to fight someone for it. There, in the back, he spotted one last table...right next to Kakashi. Because, you know, this day couldn't get any worse. Iruka debated waiting an extra ten minutes or so to see if the laundromat emptied out a bit, saw Genma wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at him, and decided anything was better than this. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he dragged his bag over to the open table beside Kakashi and started dumping clothes out.

    Kakashi, thankfully, didn't respond to his sudden arrival except for a polite grunt and nod in greeting. Iruka nodded back, then focused for the next several minutes on organizing his dirty clothes, intent on ending this humiliation as quickly as possible. As he worked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at Kakashi while he sorted his lights and darks. The man was busy folding his own laundry, bent over the table, his movements precise and methodical, done with the utmost care. Iruka almost suspected he was using the Sharingan to achieve such perfect folds. He glanced down at the clothes themselves, expecting combat fatigues or maybe a pair of well-worn sweats. 

    Instead, he was surprised to discover Kakashi was folding almost two dozen miniature flak jackets with some kind of funny emblem on the back. 

    “Did...did you accidentally shrink that in the drier or something?” Iruka blurted out before he could stop himself. Kakashi looked over at him, blinking lazily, then chuckled, a husky sound that made Iruka's knees weak. 

    “Of course not,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “This is my ninken's laundry.” 

    Iruka had to hold in a snort. The famed Copy-Nin of Konoha, scourge of all enemies, feared by missing-nin, doing his ninken's laundry? It was ridiculous! It was absurd! It was...

    Adorable, quite frankly. Iruka's heart melted a little at the sight of him carefully piling up their little vests, careful not to crease them.

    “It's a pain,” Kakashi went on. “They're so picky. I have to use unscented detergent and dryer sheets or they complain.”

    “Too bad they don't sell a fresh cat-shit scent,” Iruka chuckled awkwardly before biting his lip. 

    Kakashi, however, took no offense, throwing his head back and laughing aloud.

    “Ha! They'd like that! Maybe they have a three-day-old steak one, too.” He grinned at Iruka through his mask, one visible eye twinkling. Iruka flushed, and he quickly turned back to his laundry, realized he was holding a pair of underwear, and flung it away, his face flushing darker as he busied himself with sorting again. “You've got quite a load,” Kakashi went on after a moment, nodding at the mountainous pile in front of him.

    “Yeah, I've been putting it off for a while,” Iruka grumbled distractedly, searching for a stray sock's missing partner with no luck. “This is literally the last thing I have to wear, so I either do laundry today or go into work tomorrow naked.”

    “I knew I should have finished that mission report,” Kakashi said under his breath.

    “Very funny,” Iruka scoffed in annoyance, shoving his first few loads into the nearby washing machines.

    “Oh, I'm dead serious.”

    The annoyance turned to anger, and Iruka looked over at the other man to give him a piece of his mind, only to find him staring right back, his warm grin having grown into something much more inviting, bordering on flirtatious. Iruka's sharp comment died in his throat and he cleared it roughly, feeling hot all over. Awkwardly, he reached for change in his pockets, then froze. He looked down and swore. He didn't even fucking have pockets. Stupid booty- YOGA shorts. He'd forgotten the quarters, and he didn't dare leave his clothes unattended for fear someone like Genma would be a creep and steal a pair of underwear or something. Also, Izumo and Kotetsu had a habit of borrowing things and never returning them, and he could see them eyeing several of his favorite shirts from across the laundromat. He'd just have to pack everything up and return home. What a waste, the whole trip had been for nothing-

    The clink of coins snapped him out of his mental cursing, and he looked up in shock to see Kakashi paying for his loads. 

    “Oh no,” he sputtered, “please, Kakashi, you don't have to-”

    “It's fine. You can pay next time,” Kakashi said with a wave. 

    “But I...well...oh, alright, fine.” Iruka sighed, giving in. “Thank you.”

    “So it's a date then,” Kakashi said. “Which cycle do you prefer?” 

    “Cotton cycle, cold water, extra rinse, please,” Iruka said automatically, then blinked. “Wait, I'm sorry, did you say-” 

    “See you next week,” Kakashi was already halfway to the door, his ninken's clothes tucked under his arms and a pile of quarters left on Iruka's table for the rest of his loads. Iruka gaped after him in shock. 

    Had that...really just happened? Had he really exchanged pleasantries with one of the most infamous shinobi of Konoha while folding laundry? Or had it all been merely a dream, a figment of his imagination-

    “You washing those shorts, too?” Genma asked hopefully, leering like a hungry wolf.

    Nope, he was definitely awake. Iruka threw some Tide-pods at Genma to chase him away before turning back to his loads, shaking his head in wonder.

    He'd definitely be doing his laundry more often from now on.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Ten Prompt: Laundry)

[veintrry]

pre-show !

idol!scaramouche x gn!reader, reader has male genitalia, teasing, biting, sucking.

exact same fic different sexual genitals: f | m

ac: ??? (comment if you know!)

It was a somewhat difficult and draining thing to be dating someone in the performing industry. You had to witness your partner in tiring states, and you both has to give up a lot to make things work, but you two still continue to try and you could proudly say you are content where you are.

There's something that boosts your ego knowing that despite the thousands of people that are watching him, only you get all of him. Though, you hadn't missed how much more clingier he had grown to be, and that was made all the more evident with his rash behaviour this evening.

Here you stood in his room at the backstage area, awaiting his arrival before he had to get on stage. This had become somewhat of a ritual for you two, to see each other before a performance; You were there for each one, from when he was but an underground name till he had gained enough traction to be known merely by the title of 'The man who speaks with his eyes'.

Still, this fame did nothing to change your relationship, not in a personal way. It did affect your time schedules and you found yourself more concerned about him due to not wanting him to overwork himself knowing how difficult this industry may be, but other than that you two had stayed relatively the same and you both were happy with that, knowing that there was nothing wrong. Although, you'd be lying if you'd say you didn't feel a tad bit jealous when you hear others shamelessly complimenting him.

The sound of the door opening with a click brushes past your ears and before you could turn around to greet whoever it was you are pulled into a tight embrace and the door had already been closed, the lock snapping into place harshly.

A whine enters your ears as his head rests on the back of your shoulder, "I need you."

It isn't a question but a statement that he is aware you both must share, and it isn't uncommon to feel this way when it comes to one another, especially with how difficult things can be for him within the industry.

He lifts his head, placing his chin onto your shoulder as he tilts it to gaze up at you. "That damn manager held me up. I was getting my makeup and hair done and then they just decided to dump more information about our coming schedules too. Who do they think they are? And to tell me so abruptly too. They're wasting my time," He complains, and you notice the way his eyes narrow, glaring at the recollection as though the entire team had practically imprisoned him and kept him from what he desired.

You think he is overreacting a bit, but you'd be lying to say you didn't feel the same, and you'd be a bigger liar to say you don't like it.

"I could be staying with you instead." He finishes, relishing in your body warmth, inhaling your scent as though he had been addicted to it, to you, and what it did to him. He wanted you, badly.

You like the sound of that, and he might've - no, he definitely picked up on that - He wasn't dense, far from it. He knew his schedule must be exhausting for you. I mean, how could you ever survive this long without him? He should be more attentive to you.

A smirk found its way onto his lips and his hands began to trail from your stomach to your waist, rubbing on your sides as he hummed into your clothing. "We haven't gotten much time to ourselves recently, have we now?" His voice had the essence of honey, attempting to fool you with its sweetness despite your knowing of the venomous intent behind it. "You know you don't have time to be doing that, especially right now Scara." You say, cutting to the chase, and he almost sends you a disapproving whine.

"You know I don't like you calling me that." He lifts his weight off your shoulder, nearing the side of your ear, mouth too close to the outer shell as he whispers in that familiar deceiving tone "Say my name." A thumb laps circles onto your stomach, patiently awaiting your reaction, timing you.

"You have to get on soon- '' You're spun around, an arm lacing around your back, fingers wrapping around your waist firmly pulling you closer to him, too close. "Say my name."

And you see the way he stares at you, demanding you, commanding you. Hell, if you didn't say it you were sure he was going to have it come out of you with his own methods. And despite how much you didn't want to admit it, you didn't mind that, either. You didn't want him to be late, but there was a good feeling about being the reason why he's late. Plus, you were curious, just how would he make you succumb to him this time? "Make me."

That was all he needed. Those two words were like the seal to break his restraints and give his all to you, as he always should've been. It was impressive the little time it took till his lips were crashing against yours, pleading for you, you didn't even blink.

Divine is how he always felt. The softness of his lips was always so passionate and demanding, yet always with that desperation tinged in and this dawn it was stronger than usual; He yearned for you. He wished to devour all of you.

You match his pace as best as you can but he doesn't wait for you, he doesn't want to, he wants you to feel the mess that this is, he wants to make this imperfect; It's almost like he wants you to make him a mess. It would be a sight to see for someone like him to go out looking like that, the public and news outlets would have a field day. But hey, more eyes on him right? And yet he only found himself wanting yours.

A hand crawls up your spine, his fingers feeling as though they are touching your bare skin through your clothing, leaving a cold trail that makes you arch your back with a yelp. They find home in your hair, entangling into it and pulling you deeper into him, wanting you to breathe him, take him, take all of him.

But you push away for a moment, hands on his torso. You need air, and you were aware he did too. Still, he did not care. He wouldn't waste this, waste this chance to rile you up, to show you who he wants to entertain is you. Who else would tolerate all of him the way you do? "Off," His voice was hoarse, deep breaths being taken and the desperation appeared to only grow.

You glance up to meet the gaze that was already long planted onto you, savouring your reactions, the puffiness of your lips and the wrong you felt for doing this but the thrill you gained from it. "Take them off." He gestures to your pants with his eyes, noticing the ever growing bulge, seeming to be pleading for release. "Scara-" You whined as you attempted to speak, though cutting yourself off realising your mistake.

You could see the state he was in and you having called him that probably didn't help. His hands departed from your waist, his chest pressed up against you as he reached for the zipper and the way he looked at you tells you that he didn't care about the aftermath or the possibility of being caught, you might even say he enjoyed it, your response to it. And his grimacing smirk widens at the thought. "I know you want it. I bet you'd love for me to have you bent over and fucked here." Your body appeared to squirm at his words, reminded that he knew you and your body more than you did. It was only natural he'd understand your cravings. "There's no need to deny it. I know."

He leaned his face in closer to you, your noses touching and you see those pretty lashes of him cover his eyes like a veil but you feel it, you feel his hunger and you witness its coming when he licks his top lip, the zipper of your pants slowly being inched down anticipatingly. You hated how he took his time, how he knew you were still focused on the time, how unconsciously your eyes would glance over to the clock hung up above the vanity desk, and you knew that he knew how despite all of this you still wanted him to not show up– to be late, unrefined, fucked up– all because of you. He liked you like that, when you were selfish.

You latch onto the hand on your jeans and push the zipper down completely, losing your patience. "And I thought you were eager to get started?" Now you reciprocate his cocky confidence as your half-lidded eyes encounter his, daring him to see how much he could do with the time he has. And you knew him, he would do anything to prove you wrong. "Who said we haven't already?" He retorted.

The hand on your waist is slowly moved to your stomach, then dragged down to your unzipped pants that you began to hastily remove, his nails lightly touching your skin, leaving a feathery sensation and as he closed in on your most intimate spot he eyed you in silence, but he spoke to you with those emotions that whirled inside them. Bastard. His fingers make way to the bottom of your undergarment touching your hardened self, rubbing his fingers around just to feel how prominent you'd gotten your shape all by yourself.

He begins to palm you through your underwear, and the hand that was once in your hair slithered under your top, tracing your shoulder blades before making use of his abilities, his fingers keeping a nipple in between them as he pulls. Your body pushes into him at the sensation and you let out a shocked sound at the harsh sensation. You both are breathing heavily against one another and you're the one to latch your lips onto his again, and once you do you don't regret it, you kiss into him deeply, and you feel the moistness of his tongue press up against your bottom lip, swiping it in an ask of permission, and you wholeheartedly welcome it, opening your mouth for him as your hips jut into his touch, the friction being the only thing you ride on.

His tongue was warm and naturally moist, the strong feeling of its shape and the way he roughly handled it in your mouth making it feel more prominent. He swirled his tongue around yours, pulling it deeper into his and as went on his fingers began to trace up your length, feeling you get stiffer as he touches you with your garments still on, but he by no means wishes to give you relief just yet. No, he wants you to give into him yourself. He adored the insolent whines that would leave your mouth, the desperation you reciprocated in those stuttering hip movements as you attempted to get as much friction as you can, but if you wanted it so bad all you had to do was ask.

The warmth you had discovered within your mouth soon disappeared as he departed from your lips, however his pillowy lips never left your body, they merely trailed down your jaw, leaving soft kisses as he climbed down your neck. You feel his teeth grazing your skin before sinking his teeth into it like he was blood hungry. His breath hitches at the quick breath of relief you release and how you wince the pain in pleasure. Then he kisses it, lapping the bruise with his tongue to apologise, but he only does it again and again till you were sure your neck and shoulders were covered with marks. You didn't want to think about the struggle you'd have of hiding them, but he could offer you a better solution of simply not doing so.

He continues onto his path, riding up your shirt up to your chest as he resumes in journeying down to your stomach, leaving feather-like kisses in their wake, before feeling the wet heat that's up against you again. You look down to see him licking up your navel with a smug smile, snapping you out of your thoughts. You were stupid to believe that he would simply tend to you kindly. Was this to be loving? Certainly. But kind? No, anything but that. He'd love you with everything he has, and you'll take it.

Crouching down to be at your groyne as he resumes planting sloppy kisses downwards, he finally allows his finger to latch onto your undergarments waistband, slightly teasing you as he rubs on it, making you more aware of your need for him. You let out a grumbling whine, and he sees how you furrow your brows at him but it does nothing to deliver frustration when you wore such a cute pout. Still, he was a very generous man, so he wouldn't torture you for too long. He begins to lower them till you are laid bare for him, and the only time he ever looks away from you is when he finally has a moment to relish in the divine sight of your cock flings out in desperation, still perfectly hard as you feel the cold wind around hit it. A pleased hum leaves him, and his eyes meet yours again and you see the satisfaction that lay within them, how he scrutinises you, teases you, with nothing but his observing violet orbs and that gleam that reflects only more to come.

You were far from the kind to feel humiliated when being seen bare by him. This wasn't the first time you two had felt each other this way, spoken to one another in such a way or let out these sounds of yours. But, the difference here was that, you certainly never had done it like this, during a time you knew you shouldn't, when you had such little time, when there was a risk of getting caught, and it made you squirm into yourself all the more, your thighs pressing against one another.

"Ah ah, ah." He tutted, scolding you with his tone as though you had made a measly mistake. "That's no good," The heat of his breaths meet your tip with each word he speaks, granting goosebumps amongst your skin and you are certain this was intentional. "Don't tell me you're getting all shy now, are you?" And he cocks his head to the side as he gazes to you, awaiting your answer, and you can't make eye contact, not with this view of him knelt down, so eager for you. Surely he knows.

"I see. Don't worry, I'll make sure you're completely relaxed. You don't have to worry about a thing." His words are painfully slow and the longer he speaks the softer his voice gets, the more dewy and venomously sweet it is that you wish to intake it once more.He knew how to get you going and he didn't back away from using his dirty tricks, planting a kiss atop your the slit of your tip.

Such a pretty face he had, but he bore the personality of a snake. I suppose it would be somewhat twisted for you to admit that you found yourself to enjoy that about him, allowing yourself to be a willing prey…

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Four: You Can Hear it in the Silence

a/n: hello again!! So glad to have you back :) I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. It's been wonderful to read some of your comments and thoughts! I do have to give a special shoutout to @harrysblackcoat and @determined-overthinker for their continued support and feedback, it really means the world to me, so a huge thank you to you both!! I am tremendously grateful for all of you lovely readers and I hope you will enjoy chapter four as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, my inbox is open, so feel free to drop by and chat with me after reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content

Word Count: 6.7k

read parts one, two, and three 

“You kissed him?” Maleah gasps over FaceTime, her mouth so wide, Alani fears her jaw will detach from its socket. 

She had finally decided to tell her best friend everything, excluding the Rolling Stone details, nearly two days after the last time she had seen Harry. The entire next day had been spent replaying every moment and listening to the recorded interview on her voice notes until the phone battery was completely drained. Alani’s stomach fluttered at the sound of Harry’s voice and it only made her miss him more. The part that she desperately needed her friend’s input on was what had happened immediately before she left. 

“No,” Alani clarifies, quickly. “Well, almost. Maybe—I think,”

“I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks,” Maleah starts, brows furrowed as if her brain is malfunctioning. “And you’re already swooping in on my man?”

Alani feels her cheeks warm but she pushes past it and rolls her eyes. “There is no swooping going on,”

“I don’t know. You two were caught in the rain together, sounds like swooping to me,”

“But that’s the thing,” Alani huffs. “I don’t know what it is. And I don’t know if I’m just making a big deal out of nothing,”

Maleah nods understandingly and pushes any jealousy out of her mind, the love for her best friend winning out. 

“Well, tell me exactly what happened before the kiss,”

“There was no kiss,” Alani emphasizes, thinking back to the last few minutes spent in Harry’s car. 

The sun had already set when the two of them arrived at her house, leaving little light in the already darkly tinted Range Rover. But even in the darkness, Alani could see the intensity in Harry’s eyes. Their bodies had been close enough in the confined space that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, and his vanilla scent enveloped her in an intoxicating haze. For a moment, her eyes had darted to his plush lips and she imagined what it would feel like to close the space between them. She could have sworn that he had done the same, finding his eyes wandering just below the tip of her nose when she looked up. Before anything could happen, however, she found herself reaching for the door handle and stepping into the crisp night sky. 

“But did you want him to kiss you?” Maleah questions. 

Alani waits a beat, but she doesn’t have to think about the answer. “Yes,”

“Well there you go!” her friend responds enthusiastically. “Problem solved,”

“Problem not solved,” Alani corrects. “What about the fact that he’s, like, famous? I mean what happens when he has to go back to L.A. or London or whatever?”

“Woah, woah, woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,”

Alani anxiously nibbles on the skin of her lower lip, not stopping even when she tastes blood. “But it’s true—” 

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to think about it right now,” Maleah assures her. “What if you just let things happen and… enjoy it for what it is?”

Alani doesn’t miss the double meaning in the last part. “Mi, you and I both know that I’ve never been one to just enjoy it for what it is,”

“I know this, and I love you,” Maleah starts slowly. “But as your best friend—and I say this with nothing but love—you need to get laid, for real,”

Alani groans, slumping further into her mattress. “But what if that’s all he wants? I just don’t think I’m ready for that,”

“And that’s perfectly fine,” her friend coos. “But from what you’ve told me so far, it doesn’t sound like that’s all he’s after,”

Alani considers this for a moment before Maleah continues. 

“Look, let’s start with something simple: do you like him? I mean, do you like spending time with him and just generally being around him?”

“Yes,”

“Then start there,” Maleah suggests. “You can enjoy someone’s company without making it romantic, it’s just friendship. Don’t put pressure on something that you’re not ready for, or something that might not even be there,”

Alani feels a small weight lifted off her shoulders and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, no you’re right I shouldn’t psych myself out over something that didn’t even happen. I mean, for all I know he has a girlfriend,”

She waits a beat before a new concern enters her mind. “Wait, does he have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,” 

“Well even if he does, it doesn’t matter,” Alani reaffirms. “Because we’re just friends,”

“When are you gonna see him again?” her friend asks. 

Alani stomach drops. In all her concentration of the past, she hadn’t even considered what will happen when she has to face him again. “I don’t know,”

“Who initiated the last hang out?”

“He did,” Alani admits, thinking back to the hours he had spent reading in the café until her shift was over. 

Maleah hums. “Well then it looks like the ball’s in your court,”

Alani is quiet for a moment, which her friend takes as her cue to offer some more reassurance. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have more answers for you, Nani, but it’s gonna be okay. Promise, ” 

Alani sighs, kneeling to look out the window next to her bed. 

“No, Mi, it’s okay. I really appreciate you just being there, it means a lot,”

“Of course, babes. Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

The call ends and Alani continues watching the palm trees sway in the wind. Will do—the very same last words that she had spoken to Harry that night. Her mind wanders back to the moment right before she had opened the door to escape and plays out an alternative scenario. What would have happened if she had leaned just an inch closer? 

********

Harry pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb. Will do, he repeats in his mind— two words that he never knew could carry so much weight. 

“I said ‘I think Manchester United is shit,’” Nick Grimshaw says loudly, shrugging at Mitch and Jeff Bhasker when his plan doesn’t work. “I dunno, that should’ve gotten him,”

“Oh hey, Alani,” Mitch speaks into his phone loud enough for Harry to hear. This piques the singer’s attention immediately, his heart racing. “Yeah he’s right here,” 

“What the fuck?” Harry questions, zeroing in on Mitch. 

“Who’s Alani?” Nick teases with eyebrows raised into his hairline. 

Harry springs from his seat and corners Mitch, who holds his phone above his head. “Gimme the phone!”

“Hello,” Nick interrupts, watching the struggle continue. “Feeling neglected here, who’s Alani?”

The guitarist ducks and sprints to the opposite wall, Harry chasing close behind. They hop from couch to couch and swerve around fragile equipment while Mitch snickers and guards his phone close. Harry had no idea why Alani was calling and why she hadn’t reached out to him directly, but he’s dying to hear her voice again and is growing increasingly frustrated with his friend’s antics. 

“Mitchell, stop fuckin’ around!”

“I’m sorry,” he relents, holding out the phone with an amused laugh. “It wasn’t her, wrong number,”

Harry huffs and returns to his seat disappointedly, a guitar resting in his lap. Nick, who had only been able to drop in for the weekend due to his busy schedule at the BBC, narrows his eyes at both boys before speaking up again. 

“Once again, no one has answered my question.”

“She’s just a girl he’s been hanging out with,” Jeff explains nonchalantly. “He wants to have her babies.”

“Don’t,” Harry warns. 

Despite already having his fun, Mitch can’t resist adding on. “It’s none of our business… but I’ve heard a summer wedding is in the works.”

“I’m gonna go drink now,” Harry announces, standing. “And none of you fuckers are invited.”

He wanders down the hallway and into the kitchen, immediately reaching for the tequila. Is it too early for margaritas? he wonders before deciding that he wants a second opinion.  No new texts are displayed on his phone screen, much to his disappointment, but he decides to open the messages app anyway. He carefully types in Alani’s name and writes, then re-writes, the text several times before pressing send. As soon as the tag reads “delivered”, his body is filled with apprehension, but there’s no turning back. 

Harry: Is 10 a.m. too early for margaritas?

There’s a minute of silence, then two, and Harry turns his phone face down onto the counter to reach for the ingredients. It dings just as he opens the bottle of tequila and he immediately lunges for it. 

Alani: Never. Morning margs were invented for a reason. 

Relief. He quickly types out a risky response. 

Harry: Any chance I can convince you to join me?

He stares at the screen, willing the “delivered” to turn into a “read,” but it doesn’t budge. His lips ghost over the rim of the tequila bottle before he bites the bullet and takes a sip. 

Alani: Working :( sorry. Another time maybe. 

Defeat. He knows that “another time maybe” is a polite “never.” Another swig of tequila down the hatch. 

Harry: Yeah, no worries. 

Alani sets her phone down on her nightstand and brings the duvet up to her chin. She hopes with every muscle in her body that Harry doesn’t show up to the restaurant, though if he’s planning on drinking, perhaps she’s safe. Maybe I should do the same. She wonders, thinking about the rosé her mom keeps in the cupboard for special occasions. Surely heartache must be a good enough reason to crack it open. Regardless, Alani doesn’t think she has the stomach to keep it down at the present. 

********

Harry pushes the remaining peas around on his plate with the prongs of his fork. His chin rests in the heel of his hand. 

“And then I said ‘what’s the difference?’” his manager remarks, sending the rest of the group into a fit of wild laughter. 

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Mitch comments through a chuckle. 

The laughter slowly dies down and their eyes all wander to Harry who hasn’t budged for the past twenty-five minutes. They exchange worried glances, and Jeff begins to wonder if  his initial advice for Harry to go out with Alani was a mistake. 

“Hey, H,” he begins gently. “You feelin’ alright?”

Harry looks up from his plate and musters his best fake smile. “Yeah, jus’ tired,”

It was partially true; the crew had spent their entire afternoon at Honoli’i Beach practicing their surfing, though it was mostly unsuccessful for Harry—his life seemed to be a series of wipe-outs these days. 

“I’m gonna go watch a Rom-Com in my room,” he announces, standing with his plate. “Probably doze off.”

The group exchanges “good nights” before Harry saunters down the hall to his room. Settling into the bed, he flicks through the movie selection and clicks on one that he knows by heart. He contemplates texting Alani again, scrolling through their brief conversation from three days ago. Against his better judgment, he types out another message and presses send. 

Harry: Opinion on The Notebook?

He waits, attention briefly occupied by Rachel McAdams until the phone dings. 

Alani: A classic, though not as good as Dirty Dancing if I’m being honest. 

The corners of his mouth curl and he immediately types out another response. 

Harry: You have a problem with The Goss?

Alani snorts, planting her spoon into the pint of strawberry ice cream to reply. 

Alani: First, I have many gripes about you referring to Ryan Gosling as “The Goss”. Second, I was actually rooting for Lon Hammond, but maybe that’s just because I’m partial to James Marsden. And third, the scene where Baby and Johnny are dancing alone in his room. That’s all I have to say. 

Harry hums, hanging on every word. 

Harry: Confession: I’ve never actually seen Dirty Dancing…

Alani: We need to change that immediately. 

His heart pounds. So she didn’t plan on ghosting him forever. 

Harry: So Lon Hammond, that’s your type? 

Alani doesn’t know why she finds it unsettling that Harry steers the conversation away from any possible talk of them hanging out again. She reminds herself that she had been the one to decline his invitation for margaritas and shovels another scoop of ice cream into her mouth. 

Alani: Kind, supportive, successful, handsome? Yeah, I’d say so. Not to mention he forgave Allie for cheating. 

Harry: But Noah built her a house. Her dream house, I might add. 

Alani: I’m not discrediting Noah, I love a grand romantic gesture as much as the next person. Just think Lon deserved better. 

Harry grins, entirely ignoring the movie at this point. Grand romantic gestures, he notes, good to know. 

Harry: And what about the fact that Noah wrote it all down and reads their literal love story to her every time she forgets?

Alani: Maybe he deserves some rights for that. 

Alani taps the spoon against her lower lip and thinks about Cecily’s words. Just let things happen. She desperately wants to, but she doesn’t know how. The thought of getting too close only to let it all slip through her fingers is too overwhelming, so she starts with something simple: do you like spending time with him? Alani doesn’t think she could enjoy anything more. Her mind wanders back to the passenger seat of Harry’s car and the image of his wrist draped over the steering wheel, lower lip captured between his fingers. She had noted this tick early on and found it endlessly endearing. Save for the awkward fifteen minutes of their very first interview, their conversations all seemed to come so easily. Alani enjoys his quick wit and the way he speaks slowly, as if carefully weighing each word. She likes that even though the entire reason for their relationship is for her to learn all that she possibly can about him, he makes an equal effort to get to know her. Alani compares Harry’s sincere reaction to hearing that she was a journalist to David’s snarky remark. Harry had believed in her from the get-go—he had trusted her. He makes her feel seen and known. Isn’t that what it means to be loved? To be known? His words echo in her mind. 

Harry: How’s the article going?

Alani’s stomach drops. Fuck. In all her contemplation over the almost kiss, she had forgotten the truth behind her motives. She had lied. Harry had trusted her, and she had lied. Not yet, she thinks, I haven’t lied yet. It would only be a lie if she submits the article to Rolling Stone. Her throat tightens. But I’m so close. She thinks about telling him, but quickly shuts the thought down when she considers that she still doesn’t have enough material and can’t afford to risk it now. This is her chance, there’s no doubt about it. Why else would the universe have planted a world famous rockstar right at her feet just when she had decided to give up for good? Alani had to at least try, she owed it to herself, and she reasons that if Harry really cares about her, he will understand. He would have to. 

Alani: It’s going. 

Harry: Can I get a sneak peek anytime soon?

Alani: Soon. Good night, Harry. 

She sends the last text and sets her phone face down next to her. If she was going to do this, she had to do it right—even if it meant putting some space between the two of them. She owed that much to Harry. 

He sinks further into the mattress, not understanding what he had said or done wrong, but he grants Alani her space, anyway.  

Harry: Good night Alani. 

********

“You’re listening to KWPX The Wave and that was the latest single from Ariana Grande,”

Alani stops fiddling with the radio and sits back with a defeated huff. She had been in a rut with her own music lately and after spending nearly fifteen minutes in her driveway shuffling through songs, she decided to turn on the radio and leave it up to fate.

“Next up is a song from everyone’s favorite ex-boyband: One Direction,”

Goddamnit, Alani groans. She had forgotten what a bitch fate could be. 

“Now, I have to say, DeeDee,” the radio DJ starts. “I was personally heartbroken to hear the news, and I know my daughters were too,”

“Oh definitely,” DeeDee replies. “And I can’t help but wonder what this means for all of them. I mean, what do you think they’re up to these days?”

The first DJ gives a snide chuckle before he continues. “Probably doing what every twenty-something year old millionaire does: booze, cruise, and schmooze—the pretty girls, especially,”

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes at his insinuation. She had begun to resent all of the gossip and speculation surrounding Harry’s whereabouts, especially after learning how much privacy meant to him. Moreover, she hated the twinge of jealousy that coursed through her veins at the thought of him with another girl. Alani supposes that it wasn’t entirely out of the question since they were far from romantically involved. While he had occupied her mind over the past few weeks, she knew that it was highly unlikely that he paid her the same attention. The thought still brings bile to her mouth. 

“Well whatever they’re up to, one thing seems to be pretty clear,” DeeDee speaks up again. “All eyes will be on Harry Styles. I mean, he’s really the one to watch in all of this, isn’t he?”

“I think you’re right. I’m curious to see what he’s got in store. Maybe he’ll join Justin Timberlake and Nick Jonas with the ex-boyband buzz cut. But without further ado, here’s Drag Me Down.”

Alani knows that she’ll have to talk to Harry eventually; over the past week and a half, she had dodged every invitation to hang out, left cut and dry responses to all of his texts, and even ducked into the restaurant’s walk-in fridge when he unexpectedly showed up one afternoon. While the temptation to indulge his friendly advances was high, professional boundaries needed to be established. She had already begun working on the article with material from the two previous interviews—and it wasn’t half bad—but there was still so much of the story to fill in. If Alani was going to make it all worthwhile, she had to keep digging and do it fast; she couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings get in the way.  

Her car sputters slightly as she heads south on Mamalahoa Highway and the radio fades in and out. Alani checks all of her gauges—she had made sure that the gas tank was full before leaving—and doesn’t see anything unusual. A few miles later, it jerks again before coming to a complete stop. 

“Fuck,” she cries, pounding her palms against the steering wheel. “No, no, no, no, no!”

Alani waits a moment before turning the key again, but the engine refuses to start. She whips her phone out of the cupholder and scrolls through her contact list. 

Pua—no license.

Maleah—out of town. 

Dad—also out of town, catering a wedding in Oahu. 

Mom—probably scrubbed in on a major, life-saving surgery. 

She continues scrolling until her finger lands on a name that makes her heart race and sink at the same time. 

Harry Styles—no. 

There’s no way she can justify calling him, not after giving him the cold shoulder all week. If texting back and forth was unprofessional, then asking to be rescued off the side of the road surely crossed several boundaries. Alani scans her surroundings, shielding her eyes from the blinding afternoon sun. There isn’t a car or person in sight for miles—what other choice does she have? With shaking fingers, she dials the number and presses the phone to her ear. Harry answers after the third ring. 

“Hello?” he responds loudly over the sound of cymbals crashing and laughter in the background. 

“Hi,” Alani greets, raising her voice to be heard. “It’s Alani,”

She hears shuffling on the other end and then Harry’s voice, softer this time. 

“Oh hey. How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

Harry senses that something is off, but he’s glad to hear from Alani, nevertheless. His friends continue their antics in the studio, despite his silent gestures to knock it off, so he heads outside. 

“Uh, yeah I’m fine. S’good to hear from you,” he offers shyly. 

Alani’s chest tightens. 

“Ditto,” she replies. “Hey listen, um, I’m kind of in a bit of trouble I—” 

She hesitates. What the hell am I doing? 

“I need your help,”

Harry’s heart sinks, immediately filled with worry. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reassures him. “It’s my car,”

“Where are you?”

“The highway, southbound. Just past exit 243, I think,”

“I’m on my way,”

“Thank you,” Alani offers gently. “Really, thank you.”

A soft smile spreads across Harry’s lips. “Anytime.”

He arrives in a pink Cadillac fifteen minutes later, pulling over behind Alani. She doesn’t recognize the car and  her confusion only deepens when a man with short-cropped hair emerges. As he approaches, a wave of recognition and relief washes over her. 

“Harry?”

“Hey,” he greets, walking up to the driver’s side. “Need a lift?”

Alani’s mouth hangs open ever so slightly, scanning his new appearance. He looks like a completely different person than the one she remembers, and he has the faintest trace of stubble above his lip and jaw. 

“You cut your hair,”

“I did,” he confirms. 

“It’s so short,”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Alani offers with a light laugh, feeling flustered under his gaze. “I mean it looks great, really suits you. Not that it matters what I think, it’s your hair,”

But it did matter. Everything she did, or didn’t do, said, and didn’t say— it all mattered to him for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. And it mattered more than she would ever know. 

“So Stevie quit on you?”

Alani sighs. “I don’t know what’s wrong, honestly. All of the gauges look fine and I filled the tank this morning,”

Harry asks her to pop the hood and makes his way to the front of the Bronco. He looks around, not seeing any smoke or trace of other issues, though his knowledge of cars isn’t as comprehensive as he’d like in this situation. 

Alani joins him, doing her own scan over the inside of the hood despite the fact that she has no idea what to look for. Her eyes wander to Harry’s strong hands as they prod the various bells and whistles, and she notices the way his tanned skin glistens under the sun. The cross pendant nestled behind his white t-shirt escapes when he leans over, swinging like a mesmerizing pendulum. 

“I called a tow truck,” he says standing with his hands on his hips. “Should be here soon,”

“I’ll pay you back,” Alani offers quickly, her throat dry. 

Harry waves her concern away with a hand and places the hood back. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay,”

“I really owe you one,” she says appreciatively. 

He leans against the car with his arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Have lunch with me and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.”

The tow truck arrives ten minutes later and the driver gathers all of Alani’s information, letting her know which mechanic the car will be taken to and when she can pick it up. She sighs watching Stevie pull away down the road and imagines the dent it’ll make in her savings. Harry nudges her gently, motioning for her to get in his car. 

“New ride?” she questions, running her fingers over the cotton candy paint. 

“It belongs to the owner of the studio,” he explains. “All of the cars do except the Rover, she’s a rental. But Jeff took her out to get us lunch,”

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your plans,” Alani apologizes. And for kind of ghosting you, she thinks. 

Harry shakes his head, shifting the gear between them. “Nah, you didn’t interrupt, we were just messing around. But I am curious to know what brought you all the way out here on a Tuesday afternoon. Skipping town?”

Alani giggles at the way he says “Tuesday,” but responds despite the curious look he flashes her. “Day off. I was gonna go to the beach,”

“Bummer,” Harry offers, thanking every deity that he can name. “We could still go,”

“Your friends won’t be mad?”

“They’ll be fine,”

Alani nods, her eyes studying the orange checkers on her trousers.

“What’re you hungry for?” Harry speaks up. 

She thinks for a moment and is reminded of her original plans. “I could go for some sushi,”

“Know any good places?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Alani’s curious gaze falls to the glove box before her, immediately wondering what’s inside. “Do you think the owner will be mad if I open this?”

Harry glances down at what she’s pointing to and shakes his head. “Knock yourself out,”

Alani pulls down the hatch and reaches inside; her fingers make contact with what feels like a pair of glasses. When her hand re-emerges with a pair that are pink and heart-shaped, she smiles. 

“They have good taste,” she comments, putting them on. 

Harry looks over and flashes a wide grin, the dimple that Alani has become so fond of emerging. 

“Look good on you,”

“Try them on,” Alani suggests, handing them over. 

He obliges and pushes his own pair up to make room for the other lenses. 

“What d’you think?”

“I think you should keep them,” she says. “They suit you.”

And they really do; they compliment his face well and hint to the fun, easygoing parts of his personality that Alani has recently discovered. 

She directs him to her favorite sushi spot near Bayfront Park, which is buzzing per usual. After they’ve been seated on the patio outside, Harry tucks the heart-shaped sunglasses into his t-shirt and contemplates addressing the elephant in the room: the ghosting. He doesn’t want to spook her, though,  so he decides to pose the question lightly, but Alani speaks before he has the chance. 

“So what’s with the haircut?”

Harry blinks, clearing his throat before he responds. “You hate it,”

“No!” She defends. “I like it, really, it looks great,”

“You wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t absolutely hate it,” he teases in mock offense. 

Alani rolls her eyes, a playful smile spreading across her face. “It just seems like a huge step and I’m curious, that’s all,”

He considers this, deciding to stop giving her a hard time, and responds. “Well if you must know, it’s for an audition,”

“For?”

“A movie,”

“A movie?” Alani’s eyes grow wide. “You’re gonna be in a movie?”

“Maybe,” he clarifies. “Dunno yet,”

“Wow,”

Harry leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What have you been up to? Any life changing decisions?”

Alani shrugs. “Same old. Work, my summer class,”

“And how’s your family?” he asks, which catches her off guard. 

“Good. My sister’s… a moody teenager. My dad is catering a big wedding in Oahu right now. Mom’s saving lives like the badass woman she is,”

Harry laughs lightly at her comment and Alani tries to store the soundbite in the back of her mind for safe keeping.

“What about yours?” she questions. 

“Fine, yeah. Mum’s good, so’s Gemma. Talk to them at least once a week just to check in,”

He pauses to take a sip of his water before continuing. “Ever since I was about...ten, maybe, ‘ve had this feeling like—protect mum at all costs. But she’s strong, has the greatest heart,”

Alani finds it sweet that Harry speaks so highly of Anne. Her own mom had always told her that a lot can be said about the character of a man by the way he treats his mother. 

“I’m sure she misses having you around,” Alani comments, thinking of her own close relationship with her mom. “I don’t know if I could let my child leave home as early as you did,”

Harry brushes the tip of his nose with a knuckle and nods. “Was kinda hard at first, but she’s always been really supportive.”

“I bet she’s really proud.”

He offers a shy smile in response, scanning the scenery around them. 

“I’m sure your family’s proud of you too.”

Alani and Harry continue their light conversation through the entire meal, sharing stories about their families and childhood. She finds herself wishing that  she could have met a teenaged Harry, pre-fame and general world domination. He enjoys her anecdotes, soaking up every detail that he possibly can as if his life depends on it. The two of them go back and forth well after the meal is finished, only pausing when the waitress stops to check on them. 

“Maybe we should go,” Alani suggests, checking her phone for the time. “I always hate when customers stay for hours,��

“Just like I did the first time at the café?” he asks, putting his signature on the bill. 

Alani feels her cheeks warm and she quickly back pedals. “No! I mean—well, yeah, kinda—”

“And the truth comes out!”

“I was just annoyed because my sister kept bugging me to fill up your water. She was afraid you were gonna, like, get dehydrated and die or something.”

“Tell her I appreciate the concern.”

Alani laughs lightly, feeling a bit of relief when the breeze soothes her burning cheeks. The two of them make their way back into the restaurant and out the main entrance, padding down the boardwalk side by side. Harry never knows what to do with his hands, usually opting to stuff them into his pockets as he hurries down a busy street,  but he desperately wishes to occupy them a different way. His pinky involuntarily brushes the back of Alani’s hand, but he pulls away quickly to avoid freaking her out. She wishes he hadn’t. 

“What were you gonna do at the beach?” he asks to break the ice. 

She thinks for a moment, watching the different couples huddled together on the beach. “Relax, get some air. Do a little reading,”

“What’re you reading?”

“Currently this book about Laurel Canyon in California and some of the musicians who lived there during the 60s. You might like it,”

Harry’s brow raises. “Think so?”

“Yeah, it’s got Joni, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, Mamas and the Papas, all those guys. They talk about their experiences of coming to terms with rapidly growing fame, the reality of the peace and love movement, the collaborative process. Seems like something you might find interesting—relatable, even,”

"I’ll check it out,” Harry promises with a nod. 

Alani smiles gently and refocuses her attention on the horizon. “So what were you gonna do today?”

“Not much,” Think about you. “But speaking of books and stuff, I‘ve been meaning to ask. When you become, you know, the next Pulitzer Prize winner, do I get to be your plus one?”

She scoffs, squinting under the bright sun to look up at him. “I don’t know, I have to make it first,”

“And what does ‘making it’ mean to you?” Harry had been trying to re-define success, himself, and was curious to hear Alani’s thoughts on the subject.

She ponders the question for a minute, adjusting the straps of her orange tank-top to occupy her anxious fingers. “Move to New York, work for some big publication, something like that,”

“New York?” he asks, slightly taken aback. “And leave all this behind?”

“I think I’d like the change,” Alani reasons. “I love it here more than anything, but I think I’ve gotta make my own way, my own decisions. My grandma used to say that you ‘gotta swim before you drown because the ocean’s too vast and too interesting to get stuck treading water in the same place,’”

Harry nods, understandingly. “Wise woman,”

“Carolina,” Alani says, using the Spanish pronunciation that sounds like music to Harry’s ears. “That was her name, I was named after her,”

“Middle name?”

“Yeah,” she clarifies. “I’m half Mexican on my mom’s side,”

He hums. “Ever been?”

“To Mexico?” Alani asks, proceeding when he nods. “Yeah. Once when I was like, five, we went to Xcaret for my aunt’s wedding,”

“It’s beautiful there,” Harry notes. 

“What’s your favorite place that you’ve been to?” Alani questions, imagining all the stamps that must be in Harry’s passport. 

He thinks for a moment, a hum buzzing low in his throat as he sifts through his memory. “Probably Italy,”

“Lucky,” Alani muses, picturing the Gothic cathedrals that she longs to visit. 

“You’d like it there.” Harry says, truly believing it. A part of him felt that she belonged in every beautiful place he could think of. 

The two of them walk in silence for a few moments, each taking time to scope out the view around them. Alani sees a couple leaned against a staircase railing, looking deep in conversation, though probably not a pleasant one. 

“You think they’re breaking up?” Alani asks gently, nodding her head in their direction. “Or just having the talk?”

Harry scans the scenery before his eyes land on the pair that she's referring to. “Ah yes, the talk. Ye olde chat,”

“What do you think you’d be if you weren’t a musician?” She poses suddenly. He laughs to himself at the way Alani jumps from topic to topic and reasons that her mind must always be going a mile a minute. 

“A virgin,” Harry jokes, hoping that it’ll land. When she lets out a sudden, bright laugh, he looks over in relief. 

“God, you are so…” Alani trails off, shaking her head.

 He waits to see if she’ll finish the statement, but he doesn’t think she will. Truthfully, she doesn’t know what to say. The more Alani learns about Harry, the more he seems to surprise her. One minute he can be serious and thoughtful. The next, a ray of sunshine—aloof and carefree. She finds herself anticipating his every move, every word, and loving each minute that he allows her to. It makes her head spin at times, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

They journey down to the shore and discard their shoes in favor of feeling the cool sand beneath their toes. Alani tells Harry about the sea glass collection she had as a child, and he makes a mental note to scan the ground for any pieces she might like. She asks him if the beaches are nice in England, to which he responds a hard “no” compared to the ones in Hawaii or California. A couple of children splash in the shallow water nearby, and Alani doesn’t miss the fond look in Harry’s eye as he watches. Eventually, they wander back up to the main boardwalk when they spot a group of people  happily sipping milkshakes. Harry noticed her eyes following them, practically drooling, so he suggested it before she had to. 

“Want some?” Alani asks, her mouth full of strawberry. 

Harry gladly accepts, taking a sip from the straw that she holds out to him. He hums, letting the taste sit on his tongue before he offers  his own cup full of vanilla. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning over for a taste. The flavor is sweet and comforting to her, despite popular opinion that it’s boring. Alani swipes her tongue across her lower lip and thinks for a moment that this is what his mouth must taste like. She wishes she could verify this thought. 

“I’m really glad you got the strawberry,” he notes, stirring his drink with the straw. “I was having a serious crisis over what to get,”

“When in doubt, always go with the pink one,” Alani says, tapping her temple, and suddenly Harry remembers that the contents of her bag were all various shades of bubble gum and dusty rose. 

“It’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” he offers, taking another sip of his milkshake. 

“Paul Simonon?” she questions with narrowed eyes, instantly recognizing his reference to a quote from The Clash’s bassist.  

“Nothing gets past you.”

********

The clouds above start to resemble puffs of cotton candy, signaling that the day will soon draw to a close much to both Harry and Alani’s dismay. They lounge in the pink Cadillac, which is parked in an area that overlooks the entire beach, and take turns picking out the one lie amongst two truths about one another; it was a game that Harry had proposed. 

“Is it,” Alani starts, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “The four nipples?”

Harry makes a buzzer sound effect through his own laughter, temple resting against his fist as his arm drapes over the seat. 

“Wrong-o, sorry,”

“What?!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “You’re messing with me,”

“Am not,” he defends proudly. 

Alani lets out a surprised chuckle, fighting the urge to let her eyes wander below his neck. “I don’t believe you,”

“I’d prove it,” he shrugs. “But then I’d have to flash you,”

“Guess we’ll never know, then,” 

Their laughter settles down and the only sound between them is the crashing of waves in the distance. Harry lets his eyes trail down the slope of Alani’s nose to her cupid’s bow—dangerous territory. Little does he know, Alani does the same, noting the fact that his lips are heart-shaped and the perfect shade of strawberry. How sickeningly charming, she thinks. Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and there’s something hidden behind the sea-glass that she can’t quite read. The air becomes charged and the two of them are like magnets, drawn inexplicably towards one another. Alani inches closer, her heart pounding so violently in her chest, she’s afraid that he can hear it. The sound of his own blood rushing in his ears prevents this, however, as he leans in too. The space between them gets smaller, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, when the high pitched ringing of Alani’s phone sends her jolting backward. Harry curses every deity that he can name. 

“Hello?” she responds, turning her back to him. She listens for a minute, a soft “mhmm” escaping every few seconds. “Okay, yes, I’ll be there. Thank you,” 

Alani dreads having to turn back to Harry and face the consequences of whatever lines were almost crossed. She chooses to simply ignore it all together, as if no time had passed between his shocking personal revelation and the ringing of her phone. 

“Stevie’s ready.” she says weakly. 

Harry swallows down his frustration and offers a polite smile. “Let’s go get her.”

The mechanic shop is twenty minutes from the beach; Harry and Alani spend the entire ride in silence. Neither of them address the almost kiss despite the fact that it hangs over their heads like a raincloud of uncertain emotion. She occupies her gaze with the scenery whizzing past while he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Alani mourns the fact that their little bubble had been popped so soon, but she figures that it’s for the best. Don’t get attached, she reminds herself. Easier said than done. Harry also wallows in the aftermath of the interruption, wishing he had acted sooner. When they finally arrive at the shop, the mechanic reveals that the cause of her car troubles was a simple dead battery. Harry offers to foot the bill, but Alani refuses, deciding that she shouldn’t accept any more favors from him in order to restore the boundary. 

“So I guess this is where we part ways,” Alani says gently, toying with her keys. 

Harry scans his brain for something—anything—a single excuse to see her again, and soon. He doesn’t think he can take another week and a half of icy silence and he has a suspicion that she can’t either. After all, she had leaned in, too—hadn’t she?

“There’s this thing,” he blurts out. “A sort of jam sesh at the studio tomorrow night. There’s gonna be booze, otherwise I’d tell you to bring your sister. But I’d love for you to come, and I think it might be good for—the article, or something,”

Alani weighs the pros and cons in her mind, one of which he had already mentioned: a chance to listen to what he’s working on. It seemed professional and innocent enough, not to mention the fact that there’d be other people around to keep them in check. Once she decides it’s safe, she nods. 

“Okay, sure,”

“I can pick you up,” Harry offers. 

Alani shakes her head gently and offers a shy smile. “No, that's okay. Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there.”

They exchange good-byes and Alani thanks him for coming to her rescue, to which he offers a modest shrug. Harry speeds down the highway and back to the house, but three words linger in the silence. 

I’ll be there.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Smut Recs: Dub Con

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here. Players could opt in to an additional suit of 13 cards, all themed around various popular smut tropes.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 A Hag, a Hex, a Tale of Redemption by aibidil Rated:  Explicit Words:  43328 Tags: Fuck Or Die, Explicit Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Hags, Curses, Wand lore, Wandmaker Harry PotterMuggle Life, Clubbing, Tattoos, Recreational Drug Use, Angst, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Kiss Consent, safe sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Switching, Non-Penetrative Sex, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, HP: EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Equinox Summary:  A fuck-or-die fairytale in which Draco Malfoy lives a despicable and unapologetic life — that is, until he's cursed to die unless he can fall in love with and fuck Harry Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Taming Potter's Snake by Faith Woods Rated:  NC 17 Words:  5200 Summary:  It's very awkward when you're being molested by your own tattoo, but fortunately, Harry knows who to turn for help. ❤️ Read on Dreamwidth

📜 Lubido Mendax by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated:  Explicit Words:  17802 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Dubious Consent, Sex Magic, Fuck Or Die, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Curse Breaker Harry Potter, Infidelity, (not between Draco/Harry), Divorce, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Sex, Public Sex, Drinking, Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guilt, Angst, See end notes for further details about dub-con and infidelity, Minor Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary:  When Harry is hit by an old and alarming sex curse while on a job with Malfoy, he’s faced with an agonising decision. But it turns out that curing the curse was easy compared to everything that came next. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 in the electricity of your touch by tryslora Rated:  Explicit Words:  24760 Tags: Infidelity, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Dirty Talk, Rimming, Soulmates, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Jealousy, Internalized Homophobia, Possessive Behavior Summary:  After returning to Hogwarts after the war, Harry realizes he has nothing to do. There is nothing to chase, or to fight. Why, then does he feel as if there is something pricking under his skin? And why does it feel like he’s struck by lightning every time Draco Malfoy touches him? There’s only one explanation: Draco Malfoy is up to something, and Harry has to find out what it is and put a stop to it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 House of Cards by orphan_account Rated:  Explicit Words:  11587 Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Romance, Alpha Harry Potter, Omega Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bond, Mating Bites, Enemies to Lovers, Room of Requirement, Knotting, POV Multiple, Multiple Pairings Summary:  Draco Malfoy is a late presenter of his dynamic. In fact, he presented so late he thought he was a Beta until shortly after his eighteenth birthday when his first heat arrived. During the winter holidays, Draco's second heat approaches and he is stranded at Hogwarts. The last thing he expected was for Harry Potter to volunteer to help him through his heat... and, more surprisingly, for him to accept that help. However, what is Draco supposed to do when Harry wants to be something more? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Company of The Rose by LowerEastSide Rated:  Explicit Words:  31918 Tags: Post-Second War with Voldemort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Developing Friendships, Friends to Lovers, magical houses, Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, Anal Sex, Switching, Denial, Sexual Tension, Emotional Baggage, POV Draco Malfoy, Family Issues, H/D Erised 2019, Background Relationships, Frottage, Coming In Pants, Oral Sex, Apologies, Forgiveness, Dinner, Riding, Mild Praise Kink, Redeemed Draco Malfoy Summary:  Six years after the war, Draco Malfoy has been restoring magical estates, while sidestepping his mother’s plots to marry him off and resolutely avoiding his issues. An advert in the Prophet takes him to a remote island, where a mysterious stranger has purchased an abandoned retreat. But the house has a few secrets of its own, and Draco will be forced to deal with not only his past, but the possibilities of the future. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The House That Lovers Built by Lomonaaeren Rated:  Explicit Words:  75637 Tags: Dubious Consent, Imprisonment, Forced Intimacy, Aurors, Sort-of-Virgin Harry Summary:  A planned Auror raid on a notorious Potions brewer goes wrong. Badly wrong. To the point of Harry-ending-up-trapped-in-a-magical-house-with-Draco-Malfoy wrong. And the secret to leaving is going to be something that Harry might not have the strength to face. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Rumours by GatewayGirl Rated:  Explicit Words:  10559 Tags: Drama, Group Sex, Blackmail, Student/Teacher7th year Summary:  Draco is still trouble, even as a lover, and Harry finds his situation getting increasingly out of control. To make things worse, there's Ron... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 This Monstrous Need by birdsofshore Rated:  Explicit Words:  2473 Tags: Extremely Dubious Consent, Potions Accident, Hate Sex, Dark Summary:  The potions cupboard is really much too small for two people, let alone two people who can't stand each other. But with this urgent, unmistakable need in my stomach, pulling me forwards, Potter's warm body suddenly looks like the finest thing I've ever seen. ❤️ Read on AO3

[anactualcaseofthetruth]

Friends Can Break Your Heart Too - Chapter 4 << ao3 link

Or catch up! >>>>

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Story summary: Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that starts to make sense.

Chapter summary: Angel and Mia settle a bet, and then face some harsh truths in the morning.

RATED: SMUTTY 🔥❤❗

Chapter 4:

It was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever said to date.

Well, she thinks, given the current situation, perhaps agreeing to this is worse, but she’s never been one to stand down from a good bet. It helps that she wanted to prove him wrong, to wipe the cocky smirk off his face when he suggested it. He just sounded so sure she’d lose, so confident in himself that she wanted to knock him down a peg.

In retrospect, Mia should have known. There’s a reason Angel is so confident, why he wears that smirk so well.

She turns her head to the nightstand where her phone sits, the timer counting down. Fifteen minutes. That all she needs to hold out for, fifteen more minutes. She nods to herself—she can do fifteen minutes; she’d held out for three sets of it so far. One more is no problem.

“Don’t worry about the time, querida,” Angel insists, his voice low and smooth as if trying to calm her when his actions are doing the exact opposite of that. “I’m not taking an L on this.”

“Yes, you are,” she moans when his middle fingers hook inside her just right.

“Fifteen minutes is a long time,” Angel reminds her as he maneuvers his thumb to rub her clit in slow, soft circles.

Mia squeezes her eyes closed, her hands gripping onto his sheets with such intensity she’s surprised they haven’t ripped and bites her lip to keep from moaning louder.

“Nah, baby, don’t do that, I wanna hear the noises you make,” he encourages and the rhythm of his fingers inside her pickup speed, and she knows he’s doing it on purpose, so she cries out like he wants. Sometimes it’s easier to give him what he wants than fight him, it placates him in the moment. Besides, she’s playing the long game here.

“Fu-uck,” she heaves as her legs start to shake, a tell-tale sign she’s about to cum, so Angel’s fingers withdraw from her center, leaving her on edge. “No, no, no,” she whines, but knows she only has herself to blame.

She’s the one who agreed to the damn bet, to give him free reign for an hour to do whatever he wanted sexually, within reason, to make her ‘ugly cry’ as she mentioned almost two weeks prior. It started out fun, at least for her, seeing as he gave her four orgasms in about thirty minutes, but then he’d started a new tactic—torture. He’s been edging her more than fifteen minutes now, making her almost cum three more times, and she hates it, hates him, hates this whole bet and herself for making that dumbass comment two weeks ago.

“Before you look again, I’ll tell you now, thirteen minutes,” he murmurs as his wet hand slides up her body, the other entangled in her loose curls. “I still have time.”

Mia can only nod as she tries to bring herself down, to keep her breathing even, but she feels warm, so, so warm, like she has a fever, and touches her forehead to check.

“Here,” Angel offers and grabs the bottle of water from the nightstand and signals for her to sit up a bit, his hand moving with her head and tilts the bottle to her lips.

She greedily takes a few gulps before dropping her head back to the pillow, letting the coolness of the liquid wash over her. “Thank you.”

“Twelve and a half minutes,” he responds and settles himself back along side her, his fingers returning to her core and starts to play with her outer lips. “Fuck, baby, I hope you know how much I enjoy your pussy,” he mentions as he drags a ringed finger over her clit, making her shudder.

The more they have sex and continue to get comfortable with each other, the more Angel talks during it. Sometimes its sweet, others it’s filthy, but it always makes her melt, and the last thing she needs right now is more heat.

“Do you know what a pretty pussy you have?” he questions while shuffling down her body so his face lines up with it.

Mia doesn’t answer, just stares at the ceiling and tries to think of anything else other than Angel’s velvety voice and honey-dipped words.

“Hey,” he clips and slaps her entrance with his ring-clad knuckles causing her hips to buck and a mewl to escape from her lips. “I want an answer, mi dulce.”

“No,” she breathes and blinks, focusing on the figure-eight paint on the ceiling.

“Well, it is,” he tells her as his head dips down to her mound and licks up her slit. “You’ve ruined mi dulce for me because your pussy is so sweet, it’ll only ever apply to you now.” His tongue flicks at her clit as his fingers spread the lips. “My favorite pussy,” he murmurs in between licks.

Mia throws her head back against the pillow, her entire back arching as Angel buries his face between her legs. Her hands thread into his hair to keep him in place, the inky curls soft and free of the hair gel he usually styles it with. “Yes, please, there, right there,” she pleads as her toes curl against his wide shoulders.

She tries to hide the tremble in her legs, the shake of her core, but it’s useless. He has fingers inside her, he can feel her body betraying her. He pulls his mouth from her pink heat, his beard covered with her wetness and she wants to kick and scream but won’t give him the satisfaction.

It’s a fine line between kicking and screaming, and ugly crying. She will not succumb, even if it is the fourth time he’d edged her.

But that doesn’t mean she isn’t willing to snap at him. “Just fucking get inside me already, I’m so sick of-” she stops when his free hand leaves her breast to cover her mouth.

“I don’t give a shit what you’re sick of,” he informs her, his voice low and firm, and his hand slides from her mouth to her throat. Being manhandled by Angel doesn’t scare her—in fact, before Jay it was a turn on, and now with Angel, with that trust continually building between them, it is starting to again, even if in baby steps. “I’m in charge for seven more minutes, aren’t I?”

Mia can only nod as her core clenches on nothing, and she hates being so completely empty when she knows how wonderfully he fits inside her.

“Good girl, now,” he goes on, which doesn’t help her situation. “I’m not inside of you because I know this pussy, my favorite pussy, and I know exactly what you’ll do.”

“What?” Mia asks while trying not to focus on his fingers slipping inside her.

“You’ll grip me so fucking tight I’ll fuck you until we both cum, and then time will be up, and you’ll win,” he answers. “I tried giving you multiple orgasms, all it did was make you sated and sleepy. That’s not what I’m going for here, remember?”

She nods, her body temperature high again and her heart pounding in her core as his two fingers tap her G-spot in a rhythm that has her hips going too.

“What am I going for? Tell me, baby,” he urges before latching his mouth over one of her breasts, his tongue sucking and massaging.

“To make me ugly cry,” she says and feels him nod against her chest.

“That’s right,” Angel confirms, shifting so his tongue can lave over the other nipple. Once it’s been given enough attention he pulls away and blows on it, making her shiver. “And I think my best plan is to play with you until you crack.”

“Five minutes,” she sighs when his fingers finally pull out of her.

“I know how much time I have,” he clips in return and slips his ringed finger in her slit, the ring nudging at her clit. “You know, you should be nervous.”

“What? Why?” she asks, breathless, as his fingers pick up pace at her clit.

“The less time I have, the more desperate I get,” he admits and it’s like a flip switches—his middle fingers slip back inside her, pumping her at an alarming pace while his other fingers start rubbing her clit, hard. “Maybe if I’d edged you from the beginning, but I don’t got time for that,” he goes on, his voice calm despite his frantic movements.

“Don’t stop,” Mia pleads, unashamed that she’s begging, and Angel seems to like it because a shit-eating grin overtakes his lips. “Please, keep going, let me cum, please, Angel, baby.”

“Ugly cry and I’ll do more than let you come, mi dulce,” he vows, but all she can do is shake her head as the assault continues on her body.

Mia mewls and moans and pleads and begs, but Angel is relentless. She tries closing her eyes, thinking of something else, but it’s impossible when his fingers are playing her like an instrument he’s perfected.

“I know you want to, baby, I know you’re close,” he encourages. “Just let the tears fall and I’ll make you come so hard, and so much, dulce, I promise.”

She shakes her head, her spine arching as she feels a rush of warmth at her core. “Fuck, Angel,” she pants. “Something—something—” she tries to warn him as she explodes literally just as the timer goes off. Tears spring from her eyes and something practically shoots out of her entrance and completely covers Angel’s chest, leaving him dripping wet.

“Dios Mio,” he swears, his voice thick with want.

With her entire body shaking, Mia lifts her head to look him in the eye. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I swear to Go—” shes cut off with his mouth on hers and it’s only a few seconds before he’s fully sheathed inside her.

She’s not even sure she can come again, but trembles at the feel of him all the same as he pounds into her, chasing his own release. His arms are mounted beside her head as he rests his forehead on hers, their eyes locked on one another. He’s saying such filthy things with his talented tongue, and she knows he’s close.

He was close before he even entered her.

Even though she wasn’t sure she’d come again, she feels herself being pushed over the edge once more, reaching her high right along side him.

Angel pulls out just as her walls flutter around him, and uses his hand to pump his release out on her belly, the white ropes hitting her stomach as he grunts with each jerk of his hand.

“Fuck,” he croaks and practically collapses on top of her, apparently not caring that their collective juices are creating more of a mess between their sweat slick bodies. To be honest, she doesn’t care either, likes the closeness of his body.

After they’ve both caught their breath, Mia lifts her arms to wrap around his shoulders, her fingers lightly scratching the valley between his shoulder blades.

“Dios mio!” he repeats against her collarbone a few moments later. “If you want me to say it, I’ll say it. You won. But this is war and that was just one battle.”

She can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up her throat, but also doesn’t want to. “You think I’m going to agree to this again? Especially since I won?”

Angel lifts his head to look her in the eye. She doesn’t like the playful glint it has. “If you want to squirt again, you will.”

“Oh, my God, shut up!” she exclaims as her hands move to cover her face in embarrassment.

“You’ve never done that before, have you?” he asks, but all she does is whine in her hands in return. “You haven’t! That makes it so much better.”

“You’re a jerk and I don’t like you anymore,” she mumbles while he pulls her hands away. “No, I—I’ve never done that before, and I don’t know—“ she’s stopped midsentence when his lips press against hers, and it goes on longer than she expects, and tongues are involved.

“That,” he starts as he pulls away, then rethinks it and kisses her once more, “was so fucking hot, mi dulce.”

“Really?” she asks tentatively.

His face breaks out into a glorious smile. “Yes. Fuck, yes,” he insists. “That happening is worth me losing, even if it was a cheap win on your part.”

“Cheap win? I won fair and square!” Mia exclaims.

“You were crying when the timer went off, but I’ll give you the win as long as I get a rematch,” Angel insists.

“Fine, I will give you a rematch but crying as the time goes off implies time was up, therefore—”

“Don’t be a bad winner, no one likes those,” he interrupts with a look on his face she wants to slap, so she does just that, only its more of a tap. “Hey!” he laughs and pretends to bite at her fingers.

“Have you ever had that happen before?” she asks quietly, still embarrassed.

“Not that, no,” he answers and nips at her neck softly.

“What have you had happen, then?”

He pulls away from her throat. “I was eating this girl out once, behind a bar—”

“Of course, you were at a bar,” she comments, but he ignores her.

“And all of a sudden she pushes me away, I thought like, cool, time to get my dick wet, but instead she…” he trails off with a weird look on his face, like he smells something bad. “It was more of a golden shower. It was not what you did. I was just happy she pushed me away. She was so embarrassed she ran off, but I was like, man, I don’t even get my dick sucked after that?”

“Poor baby,” Mia murmurs while combing his hair back with her fingers. “Speaking of golden showers, I gotta pee,” she tells him. “And we gotta clean up, there are bodily fluids all over us.”

“Ooh, you talking dirty to me now? Trying to get me hard again, huh?” he jokes as he gets up on his knees.

“No,” she states firmly. “My vag needs at least twenty-four hours rest, and my clit? That is getting forty-eight, for sure.”

“So we can fuck this time tomorrow as long as I can get you wet without touching your clit? I accept this challenge,” Angel states while getting up.

“No, that is not what I meant!” Mia calls after him, then whines as she tries to get off the bed and follow, but everything in her lower half is telling her to just rollover and go to sleep. Her limbs feel heavy and tingly at the same time, and her vagina is definitely going to be extra sore tomorrow.

She hears the toilet flush, and the bathroom door opens to reveal a still-naked Angel wiping off his chest with a wet rag. “You coming?”

“No, I’m done doing that tonight, thank you,” she mumbles and groans at the thought of getting up. It just seems like so much work. She’s still figuring out the path of least resistance when Angel crawls back onto the bed. “What’re you—?” she stops when she sees the cloth still in his hand.

“Helping,” he answers her unfinished question while cleaning her abdomen.

Mia doesn’t say anything, and hopes he can’t hear when her breath hitches with each soft touch. When he goes to separate her legs, she resists. “You don’t have to-“

“I’ll be gentle, promise,” he tells her and nudges them open once again.

He is gentle, extremely so, especially when he reaches her core. It’s very intimate, the care he takes in making sure she’s clean and comfortable.

“C’mon, I’ll help you get to the bathroom,” he insists before she can protest and lifts her bridal style. “Can you get yourself back to bed?”

“You’re not that good, calm down, I can walk,” she mumbles as he sets her down in the bathroom. “I’m just being lazy.”

“You want to make that the next bet? After I win this one, I mean?” he questions with an eyebrow raised.

“You don’t have to make everything I say a challenge, you know,” Mia tells him. “So, unless you want to watch me pee—”

“You think I won’t?”

“Oh, my God! Out!” she orders and pushes him out of the room with all the force she has left, which isn’t much.

“It’s just piss, geez,” she hears him grumble, but continues his way to the bed as she kicks the door shut, thinking he’s lucky he’s her best friend because he sure can be annoying.

However, minutes later, when he’s resting his head on her chest and running fingers up and down her bare leg as she combs her own through his hair, she knows no matter how annoying he is he’s also the sweetest man she’s ever known, and that more than makes up for it. Especially when his soft ministrations put her to sleep so easily and peacefully.

When Mia wakes in the morning or early afternoon, she’s not sure, she’s on her side with Angel’s head cradled into her chest, her arms looped around his shoulders, and one of his lazily tossed over her hips.

She likes sleeping with Angel—when she does her nights aren’t plagued with nightmares or waking up every other hour at the slightest noise. When he’s in bed with her she knows she’s safe, from her subconscious or whatever else comes along. Especially when she stays at his place, no one would dare mess with a Mayan.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Angel’s phone pings from the nightstand. He groans against her chest before rolling over, leaving one arm underneath the pillow below her head as he checks it.

He groans again, looking at the notification, then resituates himself against her chest. It takes a few moments, but eventually he looks up at her, and jumps a little when he notices she’s awake. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that.”

“I didn’t do anything!” she laughs while pushing hair away from his forehead.

“It’s fucking creepy to wake up finding someone else looking at you,” he mumbles and looks very much like a child with his puffy face and sleepy eyes. “It’s scary movie shit.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Reyes,” she teases, and he scrubs a hand down his face, probably to wake himself up further. “Are you being summoned for big, bad biker business?” she asks while rolling onto her back and stretching.

Angel shakes his head and ghosts his lips across her collarbone. “Nah, some weather app or some shit. Goes off every morning, just usually sleep through it.”

“Weather?” she questions in a laugh. “We practically live in Mexico, it’s gonna be hot. Hot yesterday, today, and tomorrow. How you guys wear leather I’ll never know.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” he tells her with a kiss to the forehead. “Mornin’,” he murmurs sweetly. “See, this is how you say good morning to someone, unlike what you do, you psycho.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Mia echoes and he rolls his eyes.

He’s about to respond when his phone goes off again and he reaches for it just as quickly as before. With another groan he drops it and shakes his head.

“Let me guess, it’s going to be hot today,” she teases, and he gives her the finger before rolling back over to face her. “Are you waiting for a certain weather update or—”

“Nah, that wasn’t—that was Taz reminding me we have templo during the yard’s lunch break,” he explains. “I’m not waiting for anything, just might be getting something from EZ. Not sure.”

“Everything alright, osito?”

Angel shrugs with his head propped up on his hand, the other drawing swirls on her bare abdomen. “I don’t want to remind him if he doesn’t remember, but… I don’t want him to think I don’t remember if he does, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Mia laughs and Angel does too. “What are you talking about?”

“Today’s the date eight years ago EZ killed that cop,” he tells her on a more solemn note.

“Oh.”

He nods and bites his lip. “I only remember because Letty was going off on Coco a couple days ago. He was teasing her about school and she had a meltdown over some math final she had coming up.”

“Yeah, a statistics test,” Mia confirms. “I’ve heard her bitch about it.”

“Yeah, she kept saying the date, and it finally hit me why it was ringing a bell in my head, like there was something I was supposed to remember, because there was,” he says as his lips form an upside down smile for the briefest of moments.

“You don’t think EZ remembers?”

“No, I know he does,” Angel insists. “I’m just… just hoping the clubs kept him busy enough that he doesn’t know what today’s date is, you know?”

“Sorry to tell you, osito, but knowing EZ’s brain, he knows,” she comments.

“Yeah,” he agrees in a sigh. “I wasn’t the best brother when he was in Stockton. I didn’t visit as much I should have, and I wasn’t a great one before he went in either. If I was, he probably would have never done what he did—”

“Or, you both would have gone to prison. We’ve been over this, babe, don’t dwell on the ‘what ifs’, it’ll only make you go crazy thinking what might have been,” Mia tells him.

“I’m trying to be better now, that’s the point,” he says, his voice firm. “I guess I just don’t know how to be there for him.”

“Have you tried asking him?”

Angel looks up at her, skeptical. “That simple, huh?”

“Can be, if you want it to,” she replies. “Or, if he wants it to.”

“Maybe,” he breathes. “What if I’m afraid of his answer?”

“What do you mean?”

“He still hasn’t been out long, querida,” Angel murmurs. “Sometimes I see him staring off, thinkin’, and I worry he’s getting the same thoughts he was that got him into that whole mess. Like, maybe, he’s thinkin’ about who killed our mom again, thinkin’ about how to figure out who did it.”

“Do you ever still wonder who did it?” Mia asks. “I know back then you weren’t on the same page as him, but what about now?”

At this Angel moves onto his back and rests his hands on his chest. After a long minute he looks over at her and shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” he answers easily and with finality. “Do you think about those fucks that killed your dad?”

“Touché,” she replies. “But, the answer’s no, I don’t, because they’re dead. Marcus had the whole bullshit MC killed, practically a mag emptied into each of their backs so their patches were illegible.”

“Hmph,” Angel grumbles with an appreciative nod. “Good.”

“So, you gonna lie to me again or tell me what you really think?”

“Fine. I wonder who did it sometimes, but… I still don’t wanna find him,” he confesses. “I don’t have the right to justice.”

“The right?” Mia asks while sitting up. “You have every right to. This person killed your—”

“I know what he did, alright!?” Angel interrupts her, his voice booming, and for a split second her body shakes before she gets control of herself.

Angel would never hurt her. Sure, she thought that about her ex in the beginning, but… she knows Angel’s heart, and from what she’s learned about his mother she knows Marisol raised two men who would never lay a hand on a woman.

He must have seen her startle because almost instantly he deflates and sits up with her. “I’m sor—look, this is why I don’t talk about my mom. I turn into a dick. I didn’t mean,” he stops his attempt at an apology and reaches for his cigarettes, lighting one quick and inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry,” he finally manages as smoke escapes his mouth.

“No, it’s me, I’m pushing. You don’t owe me any kind of explanation. I’m sorry,” she whispers and squeezes his free hand.

They are both silent for a minute as Angel seems to finish his first cigarette in record time and instantly moves onto a second. “I don’t have a right to,” he starts, startling her, “because I’m no better than the man who killed her.”

“What?” Mia demands as her eyebrows crinkle in confusion.

“When I was given my kutte as a prospect, before I put it on, Bishop stopped me. He stopped all of us—me, Coco, and Gilly,” he begins again. “He said it took a certain kind of man to wear a kutte, and who we would become if we were patched in would be very different from the men that stood before him. Being in the club, it changes you,” he tells her while ashing.

Mia nods, encouraging him along with a squeeze of her fingers.

“And he was right. Maybe the man I was before I joined the club deserved to know who killed his mother and wanted justice. But the man after I patched in? I’ve—” he stops and puts out his cigarette. “You know the kind of shit I’ve done, the kind of shit I have to live with, the sins I’ll die with.”

“Angel—”

“I’m not looking for sympathy, querida,” he assures her. “If you can’t find a way to live with what you gotta do, there’s no place for you in the life, that’s just the truth. I’ve found a way to live with what I’ve done, and I’m not gonna act like I’m a saint, ‘cause I ain’t.”

He stops again for a moment, and she just knows he doesn’t want her to say anything just yet.

“I have no right to expect justice for my mother’s killer, because I’m no better. I’ve killed too, Mia, and saying he should pay just because it was my mother? It’s fucking hypocritical. That means I deserve to die too, and maybe I do—”

“No,” Mia interrupts him, firm. “You don’t. It’s different.”

“A murder is a murder, mi dulce,” he responds. “Just ‘cause you’re sweet on me doesn’t mean what I’ve done isn’t murder.”

“It’s different,” she sniffs. “The people you deal with, they are in the life too, they know what they’ve gotten into and have done bad things too. You don’t go killing women or-or children or—”

“Hey,” he murmurs and cradles her face in his hands. “Maybe that’s true, but I’ve killed someone’s father, brother, son, and if need be, I’ll do it again. It’s the kind of man you become when you’re patched in.”

“You’d never senselessly murder someone’s mother, never, and you will never be able to convince me of that,” Mia states as her eyes blink to hold back tears.

“Maybe, but I’m still no better than him, and you won’t convince me of that,” he counters, his tone just as sure as her’s.

Mia stares into his eyes for a long moment, until Angel drops his hands and looks away from her, reaching for another cigarette. She knows he believes what he’s saying, that he’s no better than a cold-blooded killer, like the one who shot his mother, and it breaks her heart.

The air is heavy around them and she knows Angel is uncomfortable with his confession, not to mention the vulnerability he’s now shown her. She wants to tell him he’s wrong, that he’s the sweetest man she knows, that the sins he’s committed in the club don’t scare her, or make her think any less of him, but knows he won’t believe any of it.

So, instead, she confesses something that she’s ashamed of too, something to make her feel as vulnerable as he does, something to even the score. “I’ve almost done heroin,” she blurts out, and Angel turns to her, his mouth agape, and so his cigarette falls to the bedsheets.

“Shit. Fuck,” he swears as he picks it up, wiping the ashes from the dull yellow sheets. “What?”

“I—you told me something you’re ashamed of, so I’m doing the same to you,” she explains. “It’s only fair.”

“Okay, but heroin?” he questions. “You told me that you hate the stuff because of your mom, and because it’s fucking heroin.”

“I know, I know, I do,” she replies. “But I… but there were a few times where I got I down, really down, it’s like every bad thing that’s ever happened to me replays through my head again and again and again until,” she stops and looks down at her fingers, embarrassed. “All the times I watched my mom break Bishop’s heart, all the shit she’s put me through, every time Esai came home with that stupid guilty look on his face and I knew he cheated on me,” she lists off. “I feel it all.”

“Mia,” Angel whispers.

“I told myself I’d never do heroin, because you’re right, it’s fucking heroin, but I’ve seen my mom’s face when she shoots up, Angel,” she tells him. “Fuck, there were times she was shaking so hard because it took so long for her to find her next fix that she made me do it for her. One time she dropped her dime bag down a grate in the road, but it had one of those storm drains a few feet away. So, she literally forced me down into it and wouldn’t pull me up until I found it.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“The point is,” she continues with shaky hands, “I’ve seen what it looks like when the high hits, how every problem she has melts away, and all she feels is euphoria. When I get down, when I’m in that blackhole and I don’t see an end, I want that feeling, Angel.”

“So you’ve thought about doing it, that doesn’t mean—”

“No, I haven’t just thought about it, I’ve,” she sighs and shakes her head. “I grew up in the club, Angel, it’s what you guys put into the streets, smuggle over the border, it’s—it’s not hard to find, and I told you, I’ve done it for my mom, so I know exactly what to do, and even if I didn’t it’s not hard to figure out.”

“What happened?” he asks, his voice soft.

“I’ve had the needle against my skin, picked out a vein,” she answers, finally looking up to meet his eye. “I guess it’s good I hate my mother because that always outweighs the want to not feel anymore.”

“Thank fuck,” Angel murmurs before pulling her into his arms. “Does anyone know?”

“Promise me you’ll never tell Bishop, please,” Mia says, her face buried in his neck.

“I won’t,” he states as he gives her a squeeze.

“Esai knows,” she answers his previous question. “He found me once, that’s a whole different story, but,” she stops and let’s out a long breath, “he didn’t yell at me, make me feel bad, or anything like that. He never judged me or held it against me, never once brought it up during one of our fights or our break-ups.”

“What’d he do?”

“Held me,” Mia tells him honestly, leaning away from Angel’s hold so she can look him in the eye. “Told me that no matter what we were going through, together or apart, in a fight or perfectly fine, he’d be there for me, no doubt about it. And, every time I called, he was. He held me until I could pick myself up and then he made me get rid of it myself, to prove to myself that I didn’t need it, and never would.”

“So this hasn’t happened in almost two years?”

Mia shakes her head. “It’s happened four times. Esai has only been there for three of them.”

“What about the fourth?”

“It was when I was with my ex,” she admits.

“Jay?” Angel asks and that name in his mouth makes her shudder.

“Yeah.” Mia doesn’t make eye contact, doesn’t know how to tell him the situation that caused her to drive to Oakland, to Niner territory because if a Mayan saw her it would be only minutes before Esai got a call, found her, and she broke down in his arms, telling him what she had done the day before at the clinic. “It doesn’t matter why, what matters is that I didn’t do it. That’s what Esai always said, to focus on the fact that I didn’t do it, not the reason I thought I needed it.”

“I’m glad you realized how strong you are,” he responds, his voice still low and soft, and so very comforting.

“I did what I always did with Esai. I got rid of it and told myself I didn’t need it, I’m stronger than that, and I will never give my mom the satisfaction,” she tells him. “She always said I’d end up like her, an addict and only good at lying on my back.”

“Bishop know that?”

“No, she’d deny it anyways, and I was always afraid he’d take her side. She knows exactly how to get under my skin and is Bishop’s weakness, so I never spoke up,” Mia says. “Esai fucking hates her, and she avoids him at all costs. She knows if she says or does one thing to piss him off he’ll go off, and there would be no coming back from that, especially know that he’s president of the mother chapter.”

“I don’t know what it’s worth to you,” Angel murmurs as he links their hands together, “we don’t have the same history that you and E do, but I’m proud of you.” He brings her hands to his lips and kisses them gently. “Even without someone there to tell you that you’re strong, that you don’t need that shit, you realized it on your own.”

“Angel—”

“I don’t know your mom, but I know you’ll never be like her. You do know that, right?”

Mia looks down and let’s her hands slip from his, like it’s accidental, not a big deal, but it’s intentional, because he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how much she’s already like her mother, how she’s just jumped from man to man like her, how she ran to Bishop with her tail in between her legs like her, how she expects him to be able to fix all her problems like she does, and how she’s let one man ruin her for anyone else because she refuses to get hurt again. They were very different men, of course, but the outcome is still the same.

“Mm-hm,” she manages, but knows it’s not believable, so she continues, “but it’s always in the back of my head, you know?”

“I get that.”

“I guess everyone worries about becoming their parents,” she goes on before he can. “It’s part of the whole cycle, isn’t it? You have kids, love them, raise them, try not to make mistakes, but it’s inevitable, and in the end you want them to be better than you. Then, because of the mistakes you made, they want to be better than you, to not put their kids through the same shit you put them through.”

“Maybe that’s the real American dream, huh? To be better than your parents,” Angel muses.

“Well, we’re halfway there, don’t you think? Just for trying. That’s half the battle, right?” she asks.

“I hope, but I guess I’m just happy that I’m not losing the battle. Yet, at least,” he mumbles, then grabs her by the hips and lifts until she’s straddling him. “I need you to do something for me though, you think you can do that?”

Mia loops her arms around his shoulders and nods. “If it’s some daddy-daughter roleplay because of parental issues I’m gonna have to pass,” she answers, and he barks out such a loud laugh that it fills her chest with warmth. “I’m down for roleplay but, the whole ‘daddy’ thing just isn’t for me, not with my parental shit show. I don’t look down on people that do, just isn’t for me. We don’t kink shame here.”

“Oh, well, what kind of kink would you do?” he asks, curious.

“Hm, well, I call you osito so maybe Mr. Bear? If you really want the dad thing I could try Papa Bear but—”

“Stop,” he cuts her off in a chuckle. “I was kidding, but I’m gonna veto Papa Bear while we’re on the subject, just to be safe. You have time to think about it. Besides, I already have my name for you.”

“You do?”

“I told you last night. I’ll only ever call you mi dulce because your pussy is so sweet, and I can call you it around anyone. I’m not into the whole mister thing, or the daddy kink because I got my own parental shit too,” he tells her.

“I’m gonna have to give this a lot of thought, then.”

“You know this has nothing to do with what I was gonna ask you, right?”

“I figured, so much for a change of subject,” Mia sighs and lets her arms fall from his neck, her hands moving to trace the tattoos on his chest.

“I’ll be quick so we can get back to this,” he says with a smirk playing at his lips. “I know I’m not Esai, but if you feel comfortable, I want you to promise to call me if you ever find yourself in that dark place again,” he asks, and her breath catches in her throat. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I’ll sit with you, talk with you, get rid of it with you, whatever you need, and I promise not to judge you or give you a hard time.”

Mia opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, doesn’t know what to say to him, to the sweet man before her who thinks so little of himself, yet is offering to be there when she thinks even less of herself. “I… sure.”

“C’mon, you can do better than that, querida,” he insists.

“I will, I just don’t want you to see me like that,” she says honestly.

“You don’t gotta worry about shit like that with me, you know that,” he murmurs and cups her cheeks. “I’m never gonna use anything you tell me against you or tell anyone you don’t want me to. What we say and do stays between us,” he promises.

She nods and leans forward until their foreheads are touching. “Okay.”

“Promise me,” he urges. “I need to know that if you’re ever like that again you won’t think you’re alone. I don’t care if I’m on a run, over the border, or what the fuck ever, I’ll drop anything I’m doing and be with you if that’s what you need.”

Mia licks her lips and closes her eyes as his thumbs brush up and down her cheeks. “I promise,” she whispers and feels him move so his lips touch her forehead.

“My name,” he says a moment later and Mia opens her eyes and crinkles her eyebrows together questioningly. “I don’t need a kink nickname or whatever. I like it when you call me osito but when I’m pleasuring you, when you’re pleading for more, I love it when you call me my name.”

“I can do that,” she agrees and presses her lips against his. At first, it’s soft and sweet, but quickly becomes more demanding with their tongues touching.

Angel’s thumb pushes on her windpipe as he pulls his lips from hers. “I thought you said twenty-four hours minimum?”

“I did, didn’t I?” Mia whispers and scoots down his legs until his growing hard-on is visible. “Doesn’t mean I can’t help you out. After all, I got what, six orgasms last night? And you only came once.”

“Mm, do you have any idea how hard I came after you squirted all over me?” he asks, a hand still resting at the hollow of her throat, squeezing slightly at times, and rubbing the sensitive skin at others.

Mia swallows, hard, and Angel smiles at her in a way that makes her stomach coil.

“Your heart is beating very fast, mi dulce,” he comments. “I wonder where else you can feel it beat?” he asks as his free hand slides down her bare body until it’s between her legs. “Let’s see how sensitive you still are, hm?”

One finger sinks in and Mia tilts her head back because she’s still so tender, but before anything else can happen Angel’s bedroom door opens.

“Angel, you awa—holy shit, yes you are,” EZ walks in saying, but all Mia registers is Angel practically throwing her behind him and covering her up so all she can see is his tatted back.

“What the fuck, Ezekiel?” Angel demands of his little brother. “Ever heard of fucking knocking?”

“I did knock!” EZ insists. “On your front door, but now I can see why you didn’t hear it. Hi, Mia.”

She doesn’t respond, just lifts an arm to wave, for which she’s given a chuckle from both brothers.

“I can see you’re busy, I just stopped by to talk. Maybe we can meet up later—”

“No,” Mia speaks up, causing Angel to turn and look down at her with questioning eyes. “You can stay, I have to get going anyways. My interview is in a couple hours and I need to get ready,” she says while giving her best friend a look, hoping he remembers what today is, the conversation they started not even an hour ago.

Angel closes his eyes in realization. “Yeah, stay, baby brother,” he insists and turns to look back at him. “We got time before templo unless you have a yard shift or something.”

“Nah, nah, I’m free. Maybe we can get breakfast?” EZ suggests, a softness in his voice she’s never heard before. He definitely remembers what today is.

“Yeah, at the diner, like we used to when I made you skip the first hour of school,” Angel agrees.

“You mean when you refused to go to your first class because—”

“Let’s not get into that,” his big brother cuts him off. “But, uh, this ain’t a free show, so go wait in the living room so we can get dressed.”

“Fine, fine,” EZ mumbles. “I’ll tell you all about it later, Mia,” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves.

“Thank you!” Mia replies, only sitting up once she hears the door click shut. “So why’d you skip the first hour of school? Unless you’d rather me hear it from EZ later?”

Angel shakes his head and smiles at her while getting up, giving her an excellent view of his naked ass. “Let’s see what he tells you, then I’ll tell you if it’s true or bull, yeah?”

She watches him step into a pair of his underwear, a pair of briefs that hugs him just right, making her bite her lip. “Too bad he didn’t walk in thirty minutes later,” she sighs and shoves the blankets off as she stretches.

Angel grins and tosses underwear at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you later, after you kill it at your job interview,” he promises with wagging eyebrows.

“Yeah, after,” Mia mumbles, then busies herself with slipping her cheeky underwear up her legs as her eyes scan the floor for other clothes. “Fuck, Angel,” she groans as two things hit her at the same time.

“What?” he asks while hopping into a pair of jeans.

“Do you think he’ll tell? I mean, Bop is his sponsor and—”

Angel shakes his head and bends down in front of her. “Hey, don’t worry about that. He won’t say nothin’, I’ll make sure of it. He’s been keeping secrets for me all his life, he’ll keep this one too,” he assures her.

“You mean like the reason you kept him out of school for the first hour during your senior year?” Mia questions with big, innocent eyes.

He rolls his eyes and gives her a knowing grin. “I was messing with this girl over the summer, nothing serious. Because it wasn’t serious I was also gettin’ somewhere with another girl, turns out they were cousins, and were both in my first class,” he explains. “It got pretty ugly first day, so I made myself scarce and got some teammates from football to ask them out. When the smoke was clear I stopped skipping class. Good thing too, my mom was about to kick my ass if she got one more call about either of us missing class.”

“You’re lucky they never found out you made your friends date them.”

“Hey, I didn’t make them date anyone long term. I asked them to take them out once, maybe twice, get their attention elsewhere,” Angel insists. “It worked out for one of ‘em. Dated my friend until graduation.”

“Mmhm.”

“Uh-huh, get dressed before EZ walks in on us again,” he instructs. “I can think of a couple things I like your mouth doing more than giving me shit.”

“About that first part,” Mia starts and stands before him, remembering her second thought earlier. “You started undressing me as soon as we walked in the door, Reyes. We’re lucky my underwear is even in here,” she says. “So unless you do want your little brother to see my goods, or maybe show him what my mouth can do—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Angel sighs while grabbing a t-shirt. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

While he goes to get the rest of her clothes, Mia goes to the bathroom to pee and do something with her hair. She’s putting it up in a messy bun when she walks back into the bedroom, fully expecting Angel to be back with her stuff, but he isn’t.

With a sigh she grabs one of Angel’s button ups and slips out of the bedroom. “What’s taking so long? It can’t be that hard to find—fuck!” Mia exclaims, ducking behind the kitchen counter, which is the only thing blocking her from view of the living room, where not only do Angel and EZ stand, but Coco and Gilly too.

“I fucking knew it!” Coco boasts, his voice full of glee.

The boys around him join in the laughter and she can feel her face getting hot. She hasn’t done the walk of shame in years. And these guys are never going to let her live it down.

“You didn’t know shit. Now, pendejos, get the fuck out,” Angel orders and she hears the front door open.

“Nah, I did, you’ve been in a good mood for way too fuckin’ long,” Coco insists. “You ain’t been in the cage in over two months, carnal, you think we don’t notice this shit?”

“Yeah, we ain’t never seen you this well tempered,” Gilly agrees.

Curious, Mia stands up, the shirt now fully buttoned. “What do you mean, he hasn’t been in the cage?”

“Nothing, I—”

“He’s the reigning champ of our cage, he never tell you that?” Coco cuts Angel off. “You’ve been selling yourself short to your girl? That’s not like you, bro.”

“I haven’t been—”

“We open up the fights in the cage to the town and put some money on it. Usually, every month or so we have a fight. Angel is the one who puts the feelers out, is the one itchin’ for a fight, and he always fuckin’ wins. This dude has rage like a fuckin’ beast,” Coco fills her in, ignoring Angel once more. “But he hasn’t since you moved here, and now we know why. Getting laid on the reg really calms you down, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ve always been able to get laid,” Angel says, then makes a face. “Uh, you know what I mean, we’re not just,” he starts to defend himself. “She and I aren’t just, like, we’re also,” he stops and clears his throat. “A little help here?”

Mia grins and leans on the counter. “No, I like where you’re going with this. Please, keep making absolutely no sense.”

“You’re just as much of an asshole as they are,” he mumbles, making the room laugh some more.

“Yes, I am, and if someone could just toss me my clothes I can get out of your hair so the real ridicule can begin once I’m gone,” she offers.

“What a team player, you finally slept with a good one, bro,” Gilly comments while nudging Angel with his shoulder.

“Why are you guys even here?” Angel whines while reaching under a pillow on the couch, revealing her clothes in their apparent hiding spot. “Here, I don’t want you to be late,” he adds, and gives them to her.

“Thanks,” Mia says and leaves the kitchen with a wink.

“Saw Boy Scout’s bike parked next to yours, then on further inspection, Mia’s car in your free spot,” Coco answers as she is walking away. “Got curious.”

She trusts Angel to answer their questions, or dodge them, more like, but still dresses quickly all the same.

When she gets back to the living room, the guys are all sitting down, smoke now in the air. “Aw, well I’m glad everyone kissed and made up. Wouldn’t want to break up the band. No one wants to be Yoko, you know,” she mentions while putting her shoes on.

“Nah, they’re still fucking annoying,” Angel says. “But they know too much, you know how it is.”

Mia smiles and shakes her head at him. “Alright, the secret’s out, me and Angel are sleeping together, but can you keep the mocking for when the wisemen aren’t around?”

“The what now?” Gilly asks.

“The three wisemen—Bishop, Taza, and Hank,” she explains. “It what me and Letty call them, you know, because they are the only ones with a clue.”

“That’s fucking clever,” EZ remarks in a chuckle.

“Thank you. Listen, I put Bishop through hell when I was with Esai, and I don’t need—”

“Wait, Esai Alvarez, Esai?” Coco cuts her off. “You fucked around with Esai Alvarez?”

“Fucked around, dated, exploded, repeat, whatever,” she answers with a shrug. “The point is, I keep Bishop out of my personal shit, he does the same, and I don’t need him worrying about me, or this, or doing any other protective dad stuff, okay?”

“Wait, that tattoo he told me to shut the fuck up about—”

“Yes, that’s me, I am the one that got away, it’s all very telenovela,” she stops Gilly. “Now, are we all on the same page?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be good in front of daddy,” Coco promises with smoke coming out of his mouth.

“Great,” Mia says with a smile. “I hope you all have a great day teasing Angel, but I gotta get going.”

“I’ll walk you out real quick,” Angel says as he stands.

“Wow, never seen my brother this chivalrous,” EZ comments, then winces once Angel kicks him in the shin on his way out of the door.

Angel waits until they are at the top of the steps to talk. “Don’t worry about them, I’ll make sure they behave,” he promises, then thinks about it. “To the best of their ability, anyways.”

Mia nods and bites her lip as they go down the stairs. “I’m not ashamed of what we’re doing or anything, you know that, right?”

He leans against her car once they reach it and seems to study her face for a moment. “I do, still nice to hear,” he decides on saying. “I really don’t need my president knowing I’m fucking his daughter either. Shit can be complicated enough in the club, I don’t need that hanging over me.”

“You still worried about EZ?” she questions, her voice soft.

Angel lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, but… he came to me and didn’t go off and do something stupid, that’s gotta be good, right?”

“Well, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black,” she teases, making him chuckle. “Let me know how breakfast goes. Are all you going or—”

“Nah, Gilly and Coco gotta open the yard, they’re leaving a little bit after you,” he cuts her off. “Gotta take the time to ask their questions without you around.”

“Oh, of course, make sure you tell them I’m the best you’ve ever had,” she insists.

“I’m sorry, who was the one that ugly cried and squirted last night—ow!” he laughs when she hits him. “You know how much I love your pussy, don’t worry, mi dulce.”

“Please, I have more important things to worry about,” she says while opening her car door.

Angel pulls her close by her hips. “Like your interview? You know you’re gonna crush it.”

Mia looks down and nods. “Yeah.”

“I know it was pushed back a few times, but that ain’t got shit to do with you. Gracie is always busy, she’s gonna be lucky to have you, you’ll take some shit off her plate,” he goes on.

She shrugs. “I haven’t worked as a nurse in over a year,” she reminds him. “Just nervous, I guess.”

“Want me to set up a fight? You can take care of me after, freshen up some of your skills,” he offers.

“No, but I do want to talk about that later,” Mia says. “I mean, you can fight if you want, but don’t do it on my account.”

Angel lifts her chin with a curled finger. “You’re gonna do great. Even if you’re rusty, you’ll pick it back up and kick ass. I’ve never seen you fail at something, querida, you ain’t gonna start now.”

She wants to laugh at him, at how wrong he is, but she just smiles appreciatively and kisses him.

“Besides, it’s gotta happen to today. If it got pushed again, Bishop said he was gonna talk to Gracie,” he mentions.

“He needs to stay out of my business. It’s my job, my interview,” Mia insists.

“He’s your dad, he worries,” he reminds her. “Can’t be mad about that.”

“I’m not, I just,” she stops and sighs. “I can handle my own, he needs to remember that.” She kisses him once more and steps out of his hold. “I’ll call you after, let you know what’s up.”

“Counting on it,” he tells her and watches her get in the car.

She starts the car and puts down the window as Angel closes the door. “You boys be good today.”

“That I can’t promise, and you know it,” he says and they both laugh before he starts back for his apartment building.

She waits until he’s back up the steps before banging her head against the steering wheel a few times.

It’s official, she can’t push it off any longer, she has to go to this nursing interview today. She’s made Gracie look bad already by saying she’s the one who pushed back the interview, when it was actually her. The last thing she needs is Bishop going to Gracie and learning the truth, that will open a can of worms she’s tried to keep nailed shut.

There can be no questions about why she really came here, why she’s so reluctant to take a job that is legit. Sure, she’s been making money helping out bartending at the clubhouse and doing some bookwork at the yard, but it’s not nearly enough for what she needs to start paying Bishop a decent price in rent.

She needs a legit job with real income, even if it means attaching her name to a file that will leave a trail. A trail that could lead Jay right to her if he’s looking.

Mia bangs her head a few more times before putting the car in reverse.

She isn’t ready to stop hiding, but it looks like she doesn’t have a choice, not unless she tells Bishop the truth, and that is not an option. Not even for a second, which means she has a job interview to get ready for. A job she’s unlikely to get because she cancelled on the woman twice with little explanation or apology.

Just fucking great, she thinks, as she drives off, her hands already sweaty at the thought of stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

*

Her outfit is all wrong.

It’s all she can think about as she walks into the ER, as instructed, holding a folder full of papers close to her chest.

Mia sees herself in the glass windows—a black skirt, the longest one she owns, but it still doesn’t go past her knees, with a white top that’s too tight and tucked into the skirt. It’s a button down that is closed up to her neck, but she still isn’t happy with it. Her hair is half up, half down and in it’s natural state of loose curls, she kept the make up light, and matched it with a pair of simple black heels.

She wants to turn around and leave, to walk out of the building and get in her car and drive far, far away, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she walks right up to the admit desk in her completely wrong outfit and forces a smile. “Hi, I’m looking for Gracie—”

“Sanchez,” a woman says from behind and she turns to find, Gracie, she assumes, dressed in a pair of jeans that make her legs look great, a pink scrub top, and comfortable white shoes. “Charge nurse, you must be Mia Flores.”

“Yes, hi, nice to meet you,” Mia greets with a hand out, and watches as the woman looks her up and down very thoroughly. For some reason, it makes her very aware of the small hoop earrings hanging from her lobes and the black choker around her neck.

She is so not getting this job.

“Yes, it is, especially since I had planned to meet you, what, two weeks ago now?” Gracie questions.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I just moved here—”

“Follow me,” the nurse cuts her off and leads her to what she knows is the breakroom, but it is thankfully empty at the moment. “Take a seat. Drink?” she asks with quarters in her hand and shakes them in offering.

“No thanks,” Mia answers and sits, making sure to smooth out her skirt and cross her legs appropriately.

“Suit yourself,” she replies and moments later a glass Coke is in her hands. “So, Flores is the last name, correct? Went with your mom’s?” she questions while sitting down across from her.

“Um, no,” Mia says and shifts awkwardly. “Why do you—”

“Oh, I don’t need these, I had your files pulled from your previous employer,” Gracie tells her while taking the folder from her and sets them off to the side. “It’s surprising is all, I figured you’d have Bishop’s last name.”

Realization washes over her. “Oh, no. Bishop is my godfather. He and my dad were best friends, and when he died Bishop stepped in. He’s my father in every way besides blood,” she explains.

For the first time, Gracie smiles. “I knew he had a heart buried in that chest somewhere,” she comments.

“That he does,” Mia agrees, and matches the woman’s smile. “It only really comes out when me or my mom around, but he has one, that’s for sure.”

“He paid a visit to my shelter about four days ago,” Gracie informs her. “I’m sure you know about my side work at the shelter.”

Dread fills her. “Um, I know about the shelter, I did not know he went to see you. I’m sorry if he was—”

“Brash? Demanding? Pushy?”

“Yes, to all three,” she answers. “Look, I can explain—”

“Don’t worry, I went along with your lie,” Gracie says. “Told him I’ve been busy here and at the shelter, but that it wouldn’t happen again. To be honest, I was more curious than anything, wanted to know what I was made be part of.”

Mia tries to still her shaking hands. “We don’t have to go through this whole game of back and forth. I’m obviously not getting the job, and honestly, I don’t deserve it after how unprofessional I’ve been. I can just tell Bishop the spot was filled.”

“Oh, it is,” Gracie confirms. “I needed two ER nurses when you first applied, but I filled the last spot after you cancelled the last time.”

“Then why am I even here?” Mia asks as she feels heat rise from her chest.

“I told you, I’m curious,” the older woman says.

At this, Mia stands. “Okay, I don’t have time for this game. I’m sorry I wasted your time, or maybe you wasted mine, I don’t know—”

“There she is,” Gracie cuts her off once more with a smile.

“Excuse me?”

“Bishop’s daughter,” she answers. “And I said that the position you applied for is filled, not that I still couldn’t use you,” she corrects herself. “Now, please, sit.”

Mia sits and relaxes a bit in the plastic chair. “I really am sorry I made you look bad. That wasn’t my intention.”

“I’ve been made to look a lot worse, believe me,” she replies. “So, do you want to tell me the real reason you cancelled on me twice or do I have to guess?”

“I haven’t worked as a nurse in over a year,” Mia starts with honesty. “I actually haven’t had a real job in the same amount of time. I let my nerves get the better of me.”

“I talked to your last charge nurse,” Gracie tells her. “Miriam? Nice old gal. She couldn’t stop gushing about you,” she goes on. “That is, until your boyfriend came into the picture.”

Mia’s back straightens. “Ex. Ex-boyfriend,” she corrects.

“Right. She said you were one of the best nurses she had. You did very well under pressure, always kept a level head, you were the first one in on your shift, and often the last one out,” the charge nurse goes on. “Said you were great with patients, at keeping kids happy if needed, and had absolutely no issue knocking unruly men down a couple pegs.”

“Miriam is a very nice woman,” Mia agrees. “But earning her praise wasn’t easy.”

“Well, she had nothing but praise for you, until the boyfriend came in the picture,” Gracie insists.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Mia says again.

“Right,” she repeats. “She said once he came in the picture you were often late, always looking at the clock, the first to leave if there were any cuts, that he liked to stop by during your shifts and was not well liked among your peers.”

“About that—”

“She saw quite a few changes in you, said when she tried to get you to talk about it you quit,” she continues. “Me and Miriam had quite the conversation.”

“Seems so,” Mia says with a tight smile.

Gracie sits back in her chair and stares at her for a long minute. “Does Bishop know?”

“Does he know what? That I quit? Yes.”

“Does he know that you were seen at your own ER twice for accidents?” she asks. “Once, I think Miriam said was a fall down the stairs, and the other was tripping through a glass door?”

Mia’s stomach drops to the floor. “He and I weren’t talking for two years. Family issues.”

“Miriam had a few theories as to what really happened,” Gracie comments. “After hearing such glowing words about you, and getting Miriam’s two cents on the boyfriend, so do I.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she says in a hard tone. “I’d appreciate if you’d refer to him as such. He’s not in my life anymore,” she tells her with finality.

Gracie nods, apparently happy with her answer. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time, what happened is your secret to keep, but I need to know who I’m interviewing right now. Are you the capable, reliable woman I first heard about, or are you flighty and going to be someone I have to check on every five minutes, because I have no use for the second one.”

Mia lets out a long breath to settle the nerves in her gut. “You’re right, I do have secrets, and I’m not proud of the person I became at the end of my time at my last job. I won’t lie to you, I did those things,” she admits. “And I can promise you that the nurse you’d be hiring is the first one you described.”

“Why’d you become a nurse?” Gracie asks, her entire demeanor different from when they first sat down.

“I’m sure the safe answer is I like helping people, knowing I’m making a difference on what could easily be the worst day of their lives. I mean, no one plans on going to the ER,” she starts.

“And the unsafe answer?”

“When I was seventeen my boyfriend was shot,” she tells her. “Different boyfriend than the last one,” she adds on quickly. “You know Bishop, so you’re familiar with the club, my boyfriend at the time was in the club too, Oakland charter.”

“He live?”

Mia nods. “Yeah, the club doc came and pulled the bullet out, sewed him up,” she explains. “But I was there when he came to the clubhouse, blood soaked through his shirt, leaning hard on our friend Pac, whiter than I’d ever seen him. I’d never seen him weak before either, ever. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it because I knew nothing.”

“It’s definitely tough seeing someone you love in rough shape. Not everyone wants to do something about it, but people like us? We hate feeling helpless,” Gracie comments.

“I told myself if something else happened I’d know something. So, when I graduated high school I went into an eighteen month nursing program. Once I got through that, I was hired at St. Francis’s and then enrolled to get my bachelor’s in nursing, which I did,” she goes on. “I learned that I didn’t just like being able to do something when someone I loved was hurt, I like being able to help people in general. I did rounds in all the specialties, but preferred the ER. Maybe it’s the instant gratification, but being able to solve a problem someone has, quickly help with the situation, in whatever way I can, I love the feeling. I grew up in a fast-paced environment and the ER felt like home in that way.”

“Your file said you also volunteered at a free clinic near the neighborhood you grew up in,” Gracie mentions.

“I did,” Mia confirms. “They couldn’t afford much a staff, and some of the ones that were employed there, well… they weren’t there for the right reasons,” she tells her. “I did what I could, tried to make a difference. Sometimes it didn’t feel like much, just handing out condoms and clean needles, reading pregnancy tests, but the way I saw it,” she stops to think of her words, “I would have wanted someone like me to be around when I was young. I tried not to just be a nurse, but someone they could talk to, confide in, and for some of them I was.”

Gracie’s lips form a ghost of a smile. “I feel that way at the shelter. It’s more than just detoxing for me. It’s the first step for all those people, a step they choose to take, and it’s one of the hardest ones they’ll make. I try to help in every way I can, but between here, the clinic, and there, I’m spread too thin.”

“I didn’t know Santo Padre had a clinic too,” Mia mentions.

“We don’t. It opens next week. I secured the funding three months ago,” she answers. “The truth is I never wanted you here in the ER. I need a charge nurse at the clinic. Someone I know can handle the chaos, the good and the bad, and be eyes and ears for me in the community.”

Mia sits straighter in her chair, her curiosity peaking. “Aren’t you already really involved? Between here and the shelter?”

“I am, but I also believe in stepping in before there is a problem, if possible,” Gracie says. “Too many places are overrun, understaffed, and letting people slip through the cracks. I made a promise to this community to provide more than basic medical care. I need a staff that is willing to go above and beyond, and that all starts with management.”

“You’re willing to consider me even after I cancelled on you twice?” she questions.

“No. I was willing to consider you after you showed up today, owned up to your mistakes, and proved you’re not the same person that quit your last job,” Gracie corrects. “I read your transcripts. You were the top of your class, had multiple job opportunities in high-income areas, yet you chose a place in the city, to volunteer for a clinic in a place overrun with drugs and crime, and from what I learned from Miriam, and talking to you today, you’re a survivor. A survivor is what I need.”

Is she a survivor, she wonders? Or is she a runner, someone who knows when to quit and flee into the night? Sure, she’s survived everything life has thrown at her so far, but what if what she’s running from catches up to her? Can she promise Gracie she won’t pack up and take off? After all, she’s been doing all she can to not promise Bishop the same.

“Gracie, I—”

The woman holds up her hand to stop her. “I told you that your secret is yours to keep, and it is, but I have a feeling I know what you’re afraid of.”

“Miriam used to say nurses have superpowers. We see so many people, a lot of them keeping secrets. It was our job to see through the bullshit and treat the patient with no judgement,” Mia mentions. “That seeing through bullshit was our power.”

“I might have to steal that one,” Gracie chuckles. “Well, I’ve been a nurse long enough that I’ve fully developed my superpower, let’s say.”

All Mia can do is nod with her head hung low. “Please don’t tell Bishop. He doesn’t know anything, he can never know.”

“I’m not doing to ask for details, those are for you to offer on your own, but I do know fear,” Gracie responds. “I know what it’s like to want to leave something horrible behind you, to be so scared to turn around and find that it’s all caught up to you, to feel that everyone is seeing right through you.”

“It’s when I’m alone that it’s the worst,” she murmurs.

“I think you’re the exact right person for this job, the one I can rely on to get the job done as well as I could do it, so you let me know what you need from me to make this happen,” Gracie insists.

“I want the job, trust me I do, and I’m honored you think so highly of me after just meeting me,” Mia says honestly. “I think I can do it. I miss helping people, being part of the solution and not the problem, but,” she stops.

“This is the part where I come in. What can I do to make you feel comfortable?”

“I’ve been off the grid, so to speak, since I moved here. I don’t have anything attached to my name. I’m on Bishop’s phone plan, live in his rental rent free, for now, his name is on the utilities, I have no social media, nothing. I’m worried—”

“By taking this job you’ll be able to be followed,” Gracie pieces together. “Miriam was right, seeing through bullshit is our superpower, but it’s only one of them. You want to know what another one of them is? Making things happen,” she says and Mia looks at her with wide eyes. “Hunny, I’m the charge nurse, run the shelter, and managed to cut through enough red tape to not only open a free clinic, but also scored enough funding to run it for the first year. I know the tricks of the trade.”

“Tricks like keeping me off the books, but still paying me?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, ma’am, when do I start?”

“How about in two hours?” Gracie asks.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, that should be enough time for you to go get something to eat and change, right?”

“Change?” Mia questions.

Gracie stands. “Yep. We’ll meet at the clinic in two hours. We have a few interviews to do and some set-up to finish. After all, you open up Monday at eight AM,” she says. “Unless you want to do manual labor in that.”

“I only need one hour,” Mia counters and Gracie gives her a smile.

“That’s what I like to hear, let’s get started.”

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AUTHOR’S NOTE:

SOOO Gracie (aka the doc/vet? from season 1 at the shelter) is going to be in this story. I write a preface about this because upon research for her character I learned the actress is trans and BEAUTIFUL. Of course, I am NOT taking that away from her, so her character IS trans. It is not mentioned in this chapter, but will be spoke about later. However, because I am not at all a fountain of knowledge on this subject, nor would I ever claim to be, I am going to tread lightly. I have done further research, but will keep the details light because she is not a main character even though I wish she was on the show because I've decided I love her and she deserved more than 2 minutes on screen. There was a STORY there, am I right?