#this is a step up from two months ago where i’d been smoking for like a year straight nd i never went more than 2 days sober

[deadpogasm]

it’s been like 3 days since i was high oml

yap central in the tags

[sunlightmurdock]

AETERNA | One

PROLOGUE | MASTERLIST

SYNOPSIS: TROUBLE COMES TO TOWN.

WARNINGS: smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; smoking weed; mentions of sw as a joke; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff. word count: 6312.

The summer in Atwood, Georgia, began as all summers in Atwood always had. Slow. Creeping in through the remaining breezes, blooms and spring showers. Fitting itself into the days so unsuspectingly. It never feels like it’s really summer until the sweat is already beading down your back and the girls’ skirts are an inch shorter than they were a year before.

There’s a spot around the back of Creekside Pines Retirement Village, covered by the shade of those namesake pines, where the girls who work there go to smoke. The Pines has been around longer than any of the residents currently in it; the Church started it decades ago and they made sure to keep it going.

Tucked under the shade of those thick, green pine trees, the branches provide a respite from the approaching early summer sun and also from your dirtbag boss, Conrad Wheelan.

Olive and you, you and Olive. Since Conrad hired you last September, the two of you have become quite the dynamic duo. Candy-striped partners in crime, experts at avoiding old guy sponge bath time. Smokers of cheap, gas station cigarettes. Gossipers of a truly impressive standard.

You’re sitting on opposite sides of the brick walls that bracket the stairs to the back door, your foot beside her hip and hers beside yours, your knees bent and a Marlboro between your index and middle.

“But anyway, I think she’s just jealous. He broke up with her for a reason.” Her face is veiled for a moment by tendrils of swirling cigarette smoke before the midday sun beams once again on her freckled face. She’s talking about a boy she has been fooling around with. He’s older, and he called off his engagement two months ago.

His ex really has it out for Olive. She’s a pretty little nurse at the local hospital. Her daddy went after the poor guy with a gun when the engagement broke. The ex went after Olive in the middle of Herb’s Wholefoods, shoved her right into the display of tinned peaches. But hey, your Mom got six dented tins for the price of one. Silver linings and all that jazz.

Your break was over twenty minutes ago, but the AC is broken and you’ve spent the morning choking on the smell of Eau de Old Lady — the smell of magnolias in bloom and Marlboros on fire are a much welcome change in pace.

Besides, your best friend is in crisis. She’s got a bruise the size of a not-tinned, regular ol’ peach in the middle of her back, a shattered ego, and apparently a new step-kid on the way.

“So, what’s he going to do about it?” You ask her, your face towards the sun, cigarette ash on the wall beside you.

“The baby? — I don’t know. She didn’t even want the kid until he told her he was leaving, now she’s suddenly Mother Theresa.” Olive says with a wistful sigh. Her older boyfriend got that girl in trouble and ran for the hills, but apparently he treats Olive like a princess. Your mother says she’s trouble, but you like her.

Girls like Olive will always pick the wrong kind of man. It’s that kind of No Man’s Land where human nature and fate come to make out — and that’s not Olive’s fault — she’s just at their will; like a puppet. Or a hamster on a wheel.

“You know, I think you’d make a pretty boss step-mommy.” You tell her, cocking your head the way that you do when you know you’re dancing right along her nerve endings. A smile creeps across your coral- glossed lips, revealing the coral-glossed ring they have left around the butt of the cigarette.

“Oh, bite me. You know I’d rather swap places with Hughie Marshall than get stuck raising her kid.” Olive scoffs out, flicking at the cigarette with a red painted nail and bending her bruised knees. That’s quite a thing to say around here.

You didn’t know Hughie, before. Not really. His dad was the principal of your high school, but you knew him after Hughie was already back.

Apparently before his accident, Hughie was a real stud. All-American with dark hair and a bright future. Then he stepped on a landmine in Cambodia; he wasn’t even supposed to be there by the official military statement. But he was.

He doesn’t leave the house anymore. His brain’s all mashed together and he’s got a metal plate in the left side of his head. One arm and no right foot, but worse than that — no jaw. Folks say it was taken clean off in the blast. They sent him out to California for a whole bunch of surgeries, but he still looks like a guy who has been pieced back together.

But Olive’s only kidding about wanting to be in his place. No one wants to be in Hughie’s place, especially not Hughie.

Her joke isn’t the kind of thing that needs to be laughed at, your polite exhale of amusement mixes with the soft rustle of leaves, a fleeting moment of rebellion against Dictator Wheelan and his reign of terror. Each smoky exhale carries whispers of things that would make your mothers shiver, but such is the way for two girls on the cusp of freedom.

In this hidden sanctuary, on the cusp of the woods, the two of you are a united front against the elderly residents of The Pines. Rather than the bell that signaled the end of your freedom in your school days, nowadays it’s the sound of heavy leather shoes on the linoleum that signal the end of your stolen respite.

“Shit.”

“Shit.” The two of you agree, stubbing out your cigarettes and leaping up from the walls, throwing the butts into the mess of fallen foliage at the side of the building.

And at once, Conrad swings open the fire escape door and finds the two of you standing there in your candy-striped aprons, white stockings and pristinely white shoes. Like butter wouldn’t fucking melt.

He’s a towering man, maybe six foot five in his prime, but he hunches a bit from his constant slouching at his desk. He was a red- head once, but now his hair has thinned to the point of scarcity, and he’s usually got a razor rash on his neck from shaving a bit too hastily in the mornings. He knows damn well that the two of you were out here slacking.

“Ladies,” He tries, his smile tight-lipped and half frozen, like a salesman who couldn’t quite make himself look human enough to get the job. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Halbert and Mrs. Knight could use some help in the dining room.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Wheelan.” Olive hits him back with a smile that comes much more naturally, and a cool shrug of her shoulders. She’s a real girl-next-door type. It’s why the wrong kind of guy likes her so much. You’re halfway certain that her killer smile and her long legs are the only reason that Conrad hasn’t fired her yet.

“Yes, sir.” You follow suit.

He allows the both of you to dip around him and just like that, you’re locked back in with the living dead. Old folks who seem just as confused as you about how they’re still hanging on. Oh, that’s mean, really — they aren’t so bad. They’re nice to you. You listen to them.

“I like it when you wear your hair like that,” Mrs. Knight tells you, sitting back uncomfortably. Her green eyes study you, her fingers curled around a shivering china teacup. “Much better than when it's down.”

You’ve learned by now that most of the compliments in this place come with a backhand. Your chin propped up on your palm, you answer her with an amused smile.

“Maybe you could do my hair like yours one day, June,” You suggest, stacking together the remnants of her lunch so that it’ll be easier to porter back to the kitchen. She used to own her own salon down on Mayfair Lane, your mother got her first haircut from June Knight. You shoot a look across the room at Arnie Knight, who is watching you care for his wife. “Teach me how to land a guy like Arnie.”

“Oh, honey — you know my Arnie’s one of a kind.” She giggles. Your mouth twists back into a grin. He sure is. He stormed the beaches in Normandy and still found it in himself to father seven kids once he made it back. In his day, Arnie sounds like he was a stud.

There aren’t too many studs left in Atwood these days. Those boys are either wandering hallowed halls, meat-heads that will be here forever or settled six feet under. Anyone more than four years older than you is either a war hero, or they’re like Hughie Marshall.

The ones that still wake up in Cole County aren’t the kind of boys you’ll be sharing your golden years with, anyway. No, you’ve got much bigger plans for your retirement.

Napa Valley, a sprawling house with burnt orange tile overlooking a vineyard withthat your silver-fox husband who tends to you while you enjoy the fruits of his labour and spend your afternoons tipsy, waiting for the party to start that evening. Far, far from the shade of the trees that line Marsh’s Creek, beside Creekside Pines Retirement Village.

That’s one day, though. For today, the excitement stretches as far as letting Billy Cline pick you up in his true blue 1965 Chevy short bed pickup. Just like most of the guys your age that are in this town, you’ve known Billy for a long time. Your mother still thinks of him as the sweet little boy with blonde curls and overalls.

He still wears overalls, but his blonde curls are now straighter, slicked back with a generous helping of pomade. He came right from work, the auto shop in town, to pick you up.

You change shamelessly in the passenger seat of his truck as he speeds along the old road out towards the Cole County airport, shoving your uniform into your bag and wriggling into the clothing you had smuggled past your mother.

“I’m not driving you home wearing that,” Billy chortles, eyes wide and already shaking his head as you pull the knitted halter neck over your chest, your lips pursed in concentration as you fasten the tie behind your neck. “I’ll stop at the Post Office and you can walk from there.”

Exhaling and kicking the bag into the footwell, you tug open the glovebox and start to root for the sunglasses you left in here last time.

“What? You don’t dig the orange?”

You know full well that Billy’s concerns about your outfit don’t start or end with the burnt orange color of your hot pants. He scoffs loudly beside you to agree as your fingers stumble across the little plastic baggie at the back of his glovebox.

“I don’t dig that your old man threatened to slash my tires last time he saw me rollin’ with you.”

That makes you laugh. You pluck the green from the glovebox and melt back into the blue suede seats Billy had spent all of last summer fixing up.

“Fred wouldn’t hurt you.” Your father talks a big talk sometimes, maybe that’s where you can get it from, but he likes Billy and he’s not the kind of father that spends his time worrying about which boy you’re messing around with. “Might trick you into doing some yard work for him, though.”

Straight, empty road for miles ahead, Bill turns his head and looks at the bag caught between your index and middle fingers, dangling toward him like the forbidden fruit itself.

“Great, so I’ll take you home high as a kite and dressed like a hooker and he’ll invite me to water his gardenias.” He hums, reaching out and snatching the bag from you. He still has every intention of lighting up, but he knows there’s a pothole about a mile ahead and the last time he let you roll up along this road wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Come on, Bill — now,” Your white canvas sneakers are still discarded in the footwell, you kick your bare feet up onto the dash. “That’s no way to talk to your best chance at ever getting laid, is it?”

There’s a fondness in the way he rolls those steely-blue eyes at you. There’s no real destination at the end of this long, empty stretch of road. There are one of four possible spots for the two of you to pick from.

Just far enough from Conrad Wheelan, and your father’s gardenias, and the Cole County sheriff's department for the two of you to crawl into the bed of the truck, light up and wait for time to pass.

It’s no way to spend summer, really. But this is the last May that your afternoons will look like this. Next May, you’ll be thinking about Olive and Billy from the Paramount Pictures backlot. Maybe Warner Brothers, you’re not in a position to be too picky.

As a kid, you had sworn that you would pack your things and head for the hills the day that you turned eighteen. Things hadn’t worked out quite that way, but now, you’ll be sitting in the Malibu sunshine before you turn twenty-three.

“Who the fuck is that?”

You drop the bag onto the bench and follow Billy’s eyes towards the rearviewrear view mirror, fully prepared to see your Uncle Paul’s police cruiser coming up behind you. Instead, you’re met with the picture of a very small heavy hauler. Cherry-red, coming over the hill like hell on wheels. It’s illegal to drive that fast, even out here. Especially in something that big.

The house that you pass on the left has two young kids who live there, and the Whistler family let those kids play in that unfenced yard all day long. A big, red truck coming along this country road that fast… bye, bye Whistler family.

“Fuckin’ maniacs.” Billy mutters, frowning and shaking his head. It almost makes you smile. William Cline, slipping back into the weepy little boy he had once been, a stickler for the rules back then. But you don’t have time to smile.

Your knees push up onto the suede, your palm flattening against the back window, sticking to the glass with a squeak as you slide it open. That cherry red truck is a lot clearer without the filter of dust and dirt between you, and a lot less small now that it’s getting closer.

“Probably late for a delivery or something. It’s gonna try to pass you.” You realise, resting your arms over the back of the bench. Billy almost forgets why that’s important as he glances across at the way those burnt orange shorts flex around your ass.

He swallows, checks the rear-view mirror and remembers the sharp bend coming up. There aren’t any signs and it kind of comes out of nowhere, and if this jerk tries to overtake him on it, his truck is going to wind up in a ditch.

He eases his foot onto the break and considers just stopping all together, biting the inside of his cheek. Out of towners. The truck grows bigger and bigger, the engine rumbling like a growl, until it’s close enough that you can see the man behind the wheel. His hair is longish and feathery, jet-black and his face is half covered by a pair of green lensed sunglasses.

By his side is a kid, already looking at you. She has long blonde hair tied back in two braids, and a strange look on her face. Like she is excited to see you. She sits forwards in her seat and cocks her head sharply to the side, her eyes tracking you as the truck whizzes by. The sharp motion makes you pull back swiftly from the window.

Her head twists to follow until she’s out of your view and you’re blinking at the painted trailer being hauled by the truck. Maverick’s Cabinet of Mysteries. A circus. Red and white stripes and a big, shining yellow font.

“Did you see that kid?” The words spill from your lips as you brace one hand against the dashboard, watching the rest of the truck whizzes by, trying to blink that awful, jerky, movement of her neck from your mind.

“What? — No, I saw that jackass almost take my side view mirror with him.” Billy huffs out angrily, putting his foot back on the gas the second that giant trailer is past him.

It’s not the only one. Right behind the first, is another truck that appears identical. You don’t get a look at the driver, just the red and white stripes and Maverick’s Cabinet of Mysteries in that shiny red and gold font.

“Who even goes to the frickin’ circus anymore?” Billy’s care for his truck spills out in bitterness as he steadies the wheel and watches the second truck be succeeded by a third. All three of them, red and gold and white death traps, growling as they speed along the road ahead of you.

The cold feeling from the first truck has passed by, now you’re at the mercy of the sun being at its highest point, casting out heat like a blanket, warming the cab of the truck like a greenhouse.

Twisting in your seat, your lips twitch as you find that the three cargo trucks aren’t unaccompanied. Behind them is a string of vehicles, lead by a pretty far-out Chevy camper with rad burnt orange racer stripes along the side.

You look back at Billy over your shoulder. “We could.”

It’s not like there is much else to do around this place. Beats the regular Friday tune of heading down to the Empire movie theatre by Lane Street and sipping at a sugary, fizzing coke while watching a Western.

As the camper draws closer, your gaze locks on to the two people sitting in the front. A dark haired woman, her lips red and round, sucking on a lollipop with her bare feet kicked up onto the dash. Her sunglasses hide her eyes, but you know she’s looking at you.

It’s almost at the speed limit, not quite at the same terrifying speed as the trucks ahead but still warranting a ticket. In the driver’s seat is a real stone fox, broad and tanned with sunkissed brown caramel-curls and a real Burt-Reynolds-in-100-Rifles kind of moustache.

They’re driving with the windows down, cooled by the breeze in their hair like they aren’t icy enough already. Her sunglasses are round and plastic-framed, with orange lenses. So cool— so California. And him too.

Even with his more standard gold-framed caravans, his barely buttoned blue short sleeve and the equally caramel coloured dusting of chest hair spilling out, he looks like a movie star.

You’re barely aware of Billy crushing your idea beside you. “Me? — Nah. Sorry, sister, no way — lame, lame, lame.”

Doesn’t matter, you’ll be going with or without him if Mr. Movie Star is going to be there.

His white camper with the orange stripes gets close enough for you to realise that it’s not just her looking at you, he is too. It’s a little narcissistic to assume that it’s for any reason other than the way you’re already staring at them, but the thought of the two of them liking what they see — thinking maybe you could look like them — makes your coral lips stretch.

Up close, you can hear the blaring sound of their radio. A guitar riff that you remember from somewhere deep in the back of your mind, something you know you’ve heard many times before but just can’t place.

You follow them, magnetized by the draw of their eyes, planting a palm right between Billy's greased overall thighs and leaning across the bench to keep staring through the rolled-down driver’s side window.

The raven-haired woman pushes the lollipop into the hollow of her cheek and tells him something. You can’t hear it over the sound of their radio blaring out. He responds with a just-can’t-help-it kind of grinning chuckle, turning his head to look across at you.

The door was open, and the wind appeared.

The candles blew, and then disappeared.

The curtains flew, and then he appeared.

Sayin’ “Don’t be afraid.”

On all fours, looking at him like he’s the new guy at the zoo.

Come on, baby (and she had no fear).

And she ran to him (then they started to fly).

They looked backward and said goodbye (she had become like they are).

Heat gathered across your skin, that knitted late summer sunset coloured halter stretched tight across your chest, scandalous by the standards of Atwood — downright foxy if you ventured further west.

Your hair has been freed from the tidy updo that Conrad Wheelan prefers it to be in while you’re working, but not quite tamed after that. Wild and free, as the wind whips through it.

As if to try to contain your grin, you sink your teeth into the coral of your bottom lip, beaming at him anyway. Then, you lift the hand that isn’t settled between Billy’s thighs, and wiggle your fingers at him in greeting.

“What the hell are you doin’? — I can’t even see the road!” Billy complains.

Mr. Movie Star couldn’t have heard him, but he shoots a look at the complaining driver anyway. Then, his attention is yours again. Still smiling that amused smile, he lifts a tanned arm from its perch against the open window ledge, and throws up a loose peace sign across the stretch of road between you. His passenger laughs around her lollipop.

”Sayin’ hello. It’s polite.” You tell him back.

Between his obnoxious music, the wind whipping between the cars, and the equally polite indoor voice you had spoken in, there’s no way that Mr. Movie Star could have possibly heard you. He laughs like he had.

With that, the camper passes by. It takes the song and the blaring guitar with it, the rhythmic picking carrying across the flat stretches of road. It’s got tinted windows all around the sides and back. A real pussy wagon, you bet. Mr. Movie Star has probably seen a lot of action in the back of that van. Queue the wistful sigh from you. If you could just stop from grinning.

“Get off. C’mon, put your seatbelt on or something.”

“He was really something, don’t ya think?” You say, still grinning dumbly as you retreat back to the designated passenger’s spot, tracking the camper along the old stretch of Airport Road.

“Yeah, yeah — mellow out before you ruin my seats.” Billy grumbles, frowning at his side-view mirror. Six more vehicles to go; none of them drive quite as wild as those first couple of big trucks.

“How long d’you think they’re in town for?” You prop one elbow against the side of the door and plant your chin atop your palm, staring after the camper as you kick your feet across Billy’s lap. “You think it’s like an all- summer deal or just a couple of weekends?”

Billy shoots a steely look across the cab.

Sure, he was kind of a weedy kid. Small for his age, with a mom who was rarely more than a stone’s throw away. He’s not bad looking. Stick thin with a long, straight nose but pretty blue eyes. There’s usually motor oil in his blonde hair these days.

Either way, he hadn’t always exactly been the pick of the litter but with the war and stuff, he’s not such a bad option these days.

And still, you’ve had him benched in the friend zone since freshman year. Both of you know that it’ll just take an especially dry season for you to finally do him, and you are good company, he likes having you around.

He doesn’t like the douchebag with the ‘stache moving in on the closest thing he has to a girlfriend.

“They might stop by The Pines — you know, like those folks from the fair did, that one time.” you’re really talking to yourself at this point.

Billy looks across, unimpressed as he’s overtaken by a 1959 Ford F-100, painted a faded shade of light green.

Three people are crammed into the cab, and as it slips in front of you, you find that the bed of the truck is also occupied.

Two girls and one hell of a guy. He’s sitting with his back to the cab, shirtless and golden all over with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a hand of cards held to his chest.

The two girls are wearing little tanks and coloured hot pants, conferring with each other while he watches, cool as ice.

He’s grinning, a smooth talker even when you can’t hear what he’s saying. It’s not money that he’s talking those poor girls out of either, that’s why one of them proudly has his t-shirt balled up in her lap.

“Mrs. Cavendish would have a cow if—“ your rambling trails and your smile spreads as Golden Boy looks up from his poker game and finds you watching. “Whoa. Where are they finding these dudes?”

“Probably jail,” Billy mumbles, begrudging the topless wonder in the back of the truck. “Or a register of some kind, if you catch my drift.”

Golden Boy’s lips stretch thin around his hand-rolled cigarette, his grin dimpling his cheeks. Totally jiving with the way you’re staring at him, stretching his already broad shoulders like a peacock would with its feathers.

He’s a sandy kind of blonde and maybe even more of a movie-star looker than his buddy had been.

He tips his chin and graces you with a nod of acknowledgement. Then, he looks down at the hand of cards and closes his lips around the cigarette, inhaling deeply.

With a cool shrug, he cocks an eyebrow and seems to dare his two lady companions to put their money where their mouths are.

Billy glances down at the bag of green still on the bench between the two of you, practically starting a mental countdown until the two of you are out by the Falls, high as kites. Far from tanned, muscled carnie folk.

The trucks and cars pass by and head for the horizon, and Billy’s blue Chevy hugs the curves of winding country roads all the way out past Route Thirteen. Past Airport Road, there’s no sign of your two new objects of affection — given the heat of the late afternoon, you’re starting to wonder if all of them were a mirage or something.

That’s what the boys who come back from war tell you they saw out there. Apparitions in the jungle, like ghosts, but nice. Tommy Holdman says he thought he had died out there, laying flat on his back after he lost his leg, and all he could see was miles and miles of coastline. A perfect, pretty beach. His own idea of heaven.

Yours, apparently, is something far different.

The Falls isn’t really a waterfall. It’s maybe a ten- foot slow incline in the river bend. It’s shitty enough to not draw too many visitors, unlike the much more popular swimming spot out where the old quarry is. That place would be packed on an afternoon like this.

Your spot is on the far end of the county, nestled a while back off the road but not too far into the woods. It’s a spot to cool off without having to commit to really swimming, and it’s the only spot you know where the fuzz wouldn’t come poking around at the smell of skunk.

No one comes out here, not even the cops.

The afternoon is all yours, right through into the evening. It didn’t take Billy long to get over his mood, he’s grinning when he drops you off, right by your front door.

There’s no way he would make you walk all the way from the Post Office, not really. Everyone’s heard those stories of girls going missing in small towns like this, and through all of her faults, Betty Cline had raised a pretty stand-up young man.

“See ya Tuesday, I’ll call you!” You wave to him as you jog up the front steps onto the porch of your parents’ home.

He waves back from the driver’s side of his truck, and drives home to his mother’s roast chicken the same way he always does. She still packs his lunches too.

Fred looks up from Hawaii Five-O, in all of its multicoloured, static-fuzz glory as the screen door rattles to an abrupt shut. He flinches as the heavier, wood front door slams behind it.

“Look at that, she is alive.” He calls from the living room, for your ears more than anyone else’s.

“Hi, Papa Bear. You worrying about me again?” You coo, kicking your shoes off by the door and strolling across the hardwood, bracing yourself on the doorframe as you swing widely into the parlour, where Fred sits in his recliner, staring at his prized possession — the color TV set he bought after the new year.

“Worryin’ about you is like worryin’ the fox might hurt itself on its way out of the coop.”

You don’t much mind the image of yourself, the sly fox, prowling around town and making all of those chicken-shit boys cry for help. Your mouth almost twitches at the thought as you plonk yourself down on the carpeted floor and turn your attention towards Steve McGarrett saving the day.

Clearly at some point after you have nestled onto the carpet with your back to him, Fred clocks the outfit you have wandered home in.

“Now, where’d the hell did you even buy somethin’ like that?” You can hear the wrinkled frown on his aging face. He’s only in his fifties now, but with deep wrinkles and freckles from years working outside.

“Church-sale, I think.” You answer back, wondering if your mother is still up. She goes to bed early on weeknights so that she can be up early for her work at the grocery store in the mornings.

Fred lost his sense of smell when he worked in the mines in his late teens — he couldn’t tell the difference if you smelled like Mary-Jane or magnolias.

“You were with that kid from the auto shop again?” Fred puffs on cigarettes like a chimney. It turns the white ceilings brown occasionally, but your Mom has always been ready with a tin of cloud-coloured paint to fix that.

“Uh-huh. You know Billy.”

“Yeah.” He decides. There are worse boys you could be running around with than that teary-eyed fella.

“Saw a bunch of vans out by Airport Road today. Setting up a circus somewhere near here.” You tell him absently, both of you watching the television set as you pick at the carpet.

“Heard somethin’ about that. Gus O’Malley’s renting his south pasture out for something like that, I think.”

“I was thinking I could maybe borrow the car Saturday. Take Georgie.”

Georgie is an accident; an anniversary celebration turned rambunctious fifth grader with a knack for messing with your stuff while you’re at work. But he’s a cute kid, you’ll give him that. The little booger is fun to be around sometimes.

With Georgie around, there’s something to do other than head out of town and drink or smoke or spend the money that’s supposed to get you to California. If you take Georgie, Fred usually sponsors the trip.

“This Saturday?”

“Yeah. Figured they’d be running by then.” You lean your palms back into the rug, worn velvet under them. It doesn’t bother you that Fred barely turns his head from the television — before that, it had been the sports highlights in the paper.

“If you’re going to get him all hopped up on sugar, do me a favor and drop him off at Grandma’s on the way back.” Fred chortles, mostly to himself, as he brings a half-warm Budweiser to his mouth.

You smile at that, remembering the days Fred threatened to do the same to you. You grab at the knee of his faded blue jeans to push yourself up from the ground.

“Thought I might drop him off by the interstate, set him free. Like God intended.” You tell the house, headed for the hallway with the end goal being your bedroom on the second floor of the humble blue craftsman.

“I-59, not I-75. Can’t have him finding his way home.” Fred calls as you take the first step out onto the stairs, your fingers trailing your work bag, discarded onto the chipped wooden post that ends the railing.

“Now where in God’s name did you find those shorts?” Oh, she’s awake. Your mother’s voice is behind you, and if you had to guess you would imagine that her head is poking around the doorway into the kitchen and gawking at your fashion choices. She is.

“You went out wearing those?”

You stand, frozen on the stairs for a second, stuck in a moment of consideration. Fred’s pretending not to hear all this, he prefers not to get involved. Joan’s not so forgiving.

Turning around will mean a certain lecture.

“Gotta be up early, I won’t wear ‘em again.” You decide, hastening up the stairs before she can call you on your lie. Your bare feet hit the landing and slip a bit on the loose runner your dad swears he’s going to remember to buy underlay for one of these days.

As you steady, the door to your right creeks open and Georgie stumbles out of his cowboy-covered bedroom, rubbing uncaringly at his eye socket.

“Hey.” He yawns, heading for the bathroom, his hand-me-down pyjamas hanging down over the tops of his feet as he shuffles for the bathroom.

“Hey. Wanna do something with me Saturday?” You ask him, already headed for your own room. He stops and turns his head, eyes no longer heavy with sleep but wide open with curiosity.

“Yeah. What?”

“It’s a surprise.” You decide, twisting the handle and letting the door creak open wide as muscle-memory guides your hand to the lightswitch and illuminates your bedroom. It’s not really a surprise, but he won’t go back to bed if you tell him now. “Night, Georgie.”

“Goodnight!” He calls back, closing the bathroom door almost all the way. The light bulb’s still out and he’s still scared of the dark.

You close your bedroom door, shutting all of them out and immediately reaching for the ties of your halter top. They fall loose and you shimmy out of the fabric, then the shorts.

Flowered paper on the walls, hardwood floors, this room is filled with the remnants of the little girl you once were in here. The shag rug and the Janis Joplin print above the bed are evidence of the newer, cooler woman who now occupies the space. The two of you coexist in this little space just fine most days.

Next comes the quest for a shirt to sleep in — sleeping in the nude doesn’t work when you have a Mom like Joan. She means well, you’re grateful for her. She’s the first person you’ll thank when you get your first award. Even though she still comes in without knocking.

Shirt acquired, you hear Georgie’s door click shut down the hallway as you scan the room for the book you discarded last night.

The window in your room faces miles of fields. In the far distance, you’ve never really noticed that you can see the O’Malley farm. Well, kind of. Ahead of that, there’s a small dusting of forest that hinders your view.

Your search for the book comes to a brief stop as you turn towards the open window and look out over the view. More specifically, of the red and white glint of weatherproof canvas that comes to a sharp point, dazzled with lightbulbs.

“Did you see what your daughter came home in?” Joan asks, shaking her head from her seat at the sewing machine. It whirs impolitely over the conversation, seeing blue thread through the hole in the knee of Georgie’s blue jeans.

“Sure did.” Fred drops his beer into the trash with a clang and rolls his shoulders back. He turns towards her, already expecting the worried frown he sees.

“People’ll talk.”

“Let ‘em,” Fred shrugs. He considers another Budweiser, but knows he’s got to be up early to get to the factory in the morning. “She’s a smart girl, she’s not out causing any trouble.”

Joan stops the machine and hums in consideration.

“Besides, I’m sure it’s a right of passage — wearing stuff that makes your folks’ blood pressure go crazy.”

She smiles, pushing up from the chair. Her socks pad across the green and yellow linoleum until she reaches her husband, her head tucking into the crook of his neck.

“You’re right. But I don’t like those shorts.” Joan decides as her husband takes her into his arms, smoky smelling and familiar.

Behind them, the morning’s paper sits discarded with only the sports section disrupted. Printed in an appropriately black ink, is the freckled face of Audrey Weiss. Her large-round glasses are still sitting on the bridge of her nose, her shoulders are angled and she’s beaming, looking front and centre. Above her portrait, the word MISSING is in the same shade of mourning-appropriate black ink.

That was a school photo. It’s old, her bangs have grown out already. Her round glasses are all torn up now, shattered and mangled — about 200 yards from her broken body, which is yet to be discovered in an empty stretch of red-dirt land off of a highway in southern Arizona.

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @blaircharlotte @hersuitisbanana @aragorn-02 @one-sweet-gubler @chrysalismuh @xzyzycxdd @atarmychick007 @ximehs @ah9242 @gleefulleve @nnatel @topherwrites @princesskreator @seitmai @d0main-expansion @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

[jam-jar2]

I HAVE A STORY IDEA BUT I SUCK AT WRITING AND ILL DEFOS FUCK IT UP AND ABANDONE IT HALF WAY.

NIGHTCRAWLER x TWISTED PARTNER

I need someone to write a story about nightcrawler (kurt Wagner) from Xmen. So you know how kurt looks like a “demon” but he’s so sweet, generous and heavily religious too.

Well I always thought about him having a partner that kinda looks like lucifer in that fallen angel paint, basically looks angelic (red hair, pale eyes, blemish free skin, almost a glow to them) but they have a really cruel power, like a matter manipulation or nightmare based abilities? Maybe similar to wandas powers but more on the darker side, Idk.

Their relationship would be rocky, her questioning the world and thinking the worst of everyone because they’ve experienced so much hate and neglect but that’s what almost brought them close, they both experienced negative situations in life and comfort each other through the healing process. She find him to be a safe space and opens up slowly, he find her beauty and her strong will so mesmerising, he shows her in compliments and affection. She finds herself always looking for him, standing by his side when she can, they almost are inseparable.

So it comes to no surprise to their circle of friends when the two take things to the next step and decide to start dating (even tho people already thought yous were a thing, months ago)

Yous would be a slow ride , with her issues with being bare (emotional and physically) and he’s commitment to religion. She respects kurts beliefs and honers his wishes, as does he respect hers.

They are a strange couple visually but when you watch and get to know them, they seem like two pieces of the same puzzle and are perfect for each other.

But my favourite thing about this! Would be the situation of when someone is petrified of kurt purely based on his appearance (even though he’s been nothing but welcoming) and they clearly avoid him, but they find themselves unfortunately in the same room where kurts partner is.

They speak about how kurt freaks them out “his yellow eyes are so fucking weird, he’s the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen” kurts partner is getting pissed but it trying to ignore them, she promised to be better, kurt wants her to do good.

However the person signs their death sentence when they start to make false accusations, bringing up the whole religion thing but adds almost a creep aspect to it all, ranting kurt as some secret predator freak.

The line has been crossed, she snaps and no one can stop her.

Suddenly the room seems to shake or change or maybe the person feels different.

Then there’s kurts partner behind them, gripping their hair and pulling back to her lips are next to their ear “I’d watch what you’re saying or else I’ll cut out your tongue and stitch your mouth closed.” her eyes bloodshot and iris glowing red.

Then the person feels a pain around their mouth and when they go to touch, they feel that it has been stitched shut with thread.

They brush out crying and are trying to scream, but in reality, to everyone else nothing happened, this person just started crying out of the blue and are now scratching at their mouth ( their mouth is perfectly fine)

Then at the other side of the room, there’s kurts partner sipping coffee . Twirling her fingers around as faint smoke slightly radiats off her fingers, she smirks and stops her illusions, bringing the poor soul back to reality.

Of course she gets lectured but the professor and several others about the wrongs she did and how she can’t play judgment as she wishes, that she should’ve just brought this to the professor and he would’ve dealt to it.

She doesn’t seem fazes by any of these words, but when kurt voices his disappointment, oh boy she’s devastated.

She knows she’s a monster and that shes not a good person, but the love of her life might be thinking so too, damn that’s heartbreaking.

She explained that they were making horrible accusations about him and she couldn’t hve someone speak such disgusting word but him, but he explains that people with talk and she can’t stop everyone who doesn’t like him. She tilts her head confused because yes, she thinks she could.

She has to protect him, he was the purest thing in this world and she wishes to keep him like that.

Basically this stories giving “I’d let the world burn for you” angry villain vibes x happy sweetheart hero. But don’t get it twisted, I don’t want. He can fix her, she does better blah blah blah. No

They’d probably break up a lot but they’d still hold torches for each other. They would probably be in a weird cycle of “ I’ll change” messes up “we don’t work” and probably a lot of kurt having to get a reality check of ‘there’s no good guy, bad guy’ it’s not so black and white, he needs to accept that she’s not a hero but she’s not a villain either, that there’s a grey in all this and she is doing her best for what she’s been dealt.

She probably goes through a whole lot with the separation and try’s to flee to end her pain. Maybe she finds something that helps her brain with this idea of nightmare judgement.

She’s obviously come back, and in some way, be that bit wiser and more steady.

Idk if they’d be each other’s end game, but they’d definitely each other’s issues in any other relationships because of how close they are and obviously their past together.

It’s definitely a if one of them gets hurt, the other goes ape shit. If there’s a party and ones get attention off someone else, jealousy.

Maybe a near death experience to final slap these two to get together and stay together. Or a death experience to make it a tragical “the one who got away” and they live one with the other in their memories, never loving again because they’d never find anyone who comes close to their love.

[yourmanz-sodapop]

BTS reaction to BF smoking after quitting

Top! Dom! Male reader

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and smoking

Jin:

Jin and you have been dating for six months. Six months he worked hard to get you to drop that nasty habit of smoking all the time.

Here you are both at a party. He’s been eyeing you like a hawk ever since your friend showed up. It wasn’t a secret that he was the one that enabled you to begin with. From across the room Jin watches as you and your small group walk out to the terrace. 

He trusted you, of course he did but he didn’t trust your friend. When he stepped out to check on you, it really shouldn’t have come as a big surprise that he found you laughing with a lit cigarette in your hand. The laughter quickly died down when your group noticed his serious face.

“Seriously m/n?”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty, you had promised him you’d stop. Quickly putting out the cigarette you followed him back inside and out the front door. The car ride was silent with him looking out the window the whole time.

“I only had one”

“That doesn’t make it better”

“I know, I’m so sorry baby, I know I said I’d stop but everyone was teasing me and,... I couldn’t help myself”

You could see the disappointment in his eyes, but also the understanding in them. He listened to you, he knew it was a habit to break.

“Just promise me you’ll try”

“I will, you know I will”

Yoongi:

As laid back and chill Yoongi was, he absolutely hated it when you smoked. When he met you all those years ago you were a lot worse, it took years for you to be able to even resist the need to smoke at least once a day but you got there. 

So when he sees the video your friend posted of you smoking he was frustrated to say the least. When you got home late at night after said friend's birthday party, he was there, very much awake, with a frown sitting on the couch looking at you. You couldn’t tell if he was sad or mad.

“What's wrong, love?”

He pulls out his phone and shows you the video. All you can do is look up at the ceiling, not being able to stop the sigh passing your lips.

“Anything to say?”

“I’m sorry. Really I am”

“You should be. Please take better care of yourself.”

“I will, I promise I will”

As you lean in for a kiss he places his hand on your mouth and walks around you heading towards your shared bedroom. 

“Go shower and throw those clothes away. You're sleeping on the couch.”

Hoseok:

As soon as he walked into your home he could smell the smoke. He knew even after quitting you had a bad habit of smoking one when you had a bad day. He tried to be supportive he really did but he couldn’t help but feel as if every time you took a step forward into getting healthier something always got in the way.

He walks into your office to see you looking out the window huffing out a puff of smoke. 

As soon as he closed the door you turned around with an apologetic look on your face.

“Are you going to put it out or not?”

“Yea”

He wraps his around you from behind, head pressed against your back, his heart breaking from knowing that you’re not able to resist this habit. He just wants you to be healthy. He wants a future with you where cigarettes aren’t a constant in your life. 

Namjoon:

When Namjoon and you met everyone warned him about you. You smoked, you drank, pretty safe bet to say his friends and family weren’t exactly pleased when he continued to hang out with you. 

Then when you two started to date he made you quit smoking and you were doing so great, two years without smoking. Which is why he was completely devastated when at a family reunion he caught you smoking with your brothers. 

Just one look at your face and he knew you felt bad about it. Guilty that you broke your promise. He nodded his head towards the door and walked away whilst you put out your cigar.

“I know what you’re going to say, and all I can say is I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help it not tonight.”

“As long as you know there’s a problem.”

He knew why you smoked, he knew who was at fault for it. You were just looking for an escape and being back at your old house that he knew inspired nothing but bad memories for you he understood why you had done it. It did nothing to stop the disappointment he felt but he understood where you were coming from. 

He loves you, he adores you. It’s why he fought so much to get you to stop smoking. It’s why he stayed even when you lost your patience with him and walked out. He knew you loved him just as much, why else did you go back to him each and every time apologizing to him. He knows you’ll make a bigger effort to prove to him and yourself you can truly quit. And he knows he’ll be there every step of the way.

Jimin:

Jimin has tried everything, he has taken you to therapy, he has bought you patches, he’s done everything you can think of to try to break your habit, and he did, for a year going on two, you were both at a club with the other and your ex just happened to be there. 

Your ex who was the worst influence on you, he knew she did hard core drugs, she didn’t exactly try to hide it. He also knew that she has some type of obsession with you and hated him.

He took his eyes off you to use the bathroom and all of a sudden your missing, and surprise surprise so is your ex. He truly dislikes her. He knew where you were, outside probably with a cigarette in your mouth thanks to her.

No surprise there, when he walked into the smoking room and saw you in a booth breathing in the cigarette. He never understood how it is that you liked it. It smells horrible and he can only imagine it tastes horrible as well.

The smile on your face is wiped clean off as soon as you see him standing by the door, immediately putting the cigarette out and walking over to him. No words need to be said. He just grabs your hand and walks out letting the others know that you guys are leaving for the night. And yes you do sleep on the couch that night, after brushing and washing your mouth over and over again.

Taehyung:

He can just feel his heart break when Jungkook tells him he saw you smoking outside a convenience store. The night before you said you had to work late. Now he knows not only did you lie about working, but you also broke your clean record of one year.

He knows Jungkook wouldn’t lie to him about it, especially since the first thing you did when you got back was rinse your mouth out with mouthwash, and how you took an hour long shower. 

He knows it’s hard, but he really had hoped you would remain on that clean record. It’s ok it was only one time, right?

When he got home that night you were in your shared bedroom watching a movie. Your pants on the floor, he could see the box of cigarettes sticking out from the pocket. When he stands from picking it up he sees two cigarettes left. By then you had paused the movie and sat up on the bed to look at him.

“You were doing so good baby, what happened?”

He couldn’t stop the tears escaping his eyes, it just hurt so much to see you like this, he could see the disappointment in your eyes. The disappointment of letting yourself down. Having broken one of your goals after having reached it not so long ago. It’s ok though you’ll get there again. He knows you will, you don’t give up easily. 

Jungkook:

Jungkook was cleaning out the closet, getting rid of boxes neither of you needed, donating some things, burning others, as he was cleaning he knocked over an old shoe box of yours and out come stumbling two entire packs of cigars. Almost new one was missing, and you were in your office.  If there's one thing Jungkook hates, it’s secrets between the two of you. He would’ve wanted you to tell him and he would’ve helped you with the urges, but no you had to hide it. 

He didn’t knock, he just slammed the door open and walked straight to you.

“What is this? And don’t say they’re old, the receipt was in the shoebox.”

Yes, he was mad. You made a promise to him and to yourself that you would stop. It’s more than just the cigars and you smoking. It’s about the trust he put in you, to be honest and the fact that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him about your struggles.

He does feel frustrated and he knows you do too, but he wants you to put in the effort to actually get better. You were clean for four years, so what changed?

All he knows is that he hates losing at anything, this has been a challenge since you both started dating and he was not about to lose, he was going to get you to stop smoking permanently.

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 6: Mouthfeel

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

TW: awkwardness, some minor nudity, mentions of suicide (not graphic), Simone is a bitch in this chapter, slightly mentions of smoking and drugs, language, mentions of past criminal activity, slight cliffhanger.

Sorry about the late update y'all! I had a rough day yesterday and just didn't have the time to finish editing. Please enjoy! 🥰

Jake’s warm jacket draped over my shoulders as we walked up the beach house steps in silence. Neither of us really knew what to say at this point. What do you say following a near-death experience and a mutual trauma dump? With each step, I left a puddle of water behind me and mentally cursed myself for being stupid enough to jump into the ocean wearing the only pair of jeans I had in that old bag.

I swung the door open and did my best to ignore the fact that Jake was now not only fully aware of my raging mommy issues but was also stepping into the threshold of where those issues were mostly forged. Glass crunched beneath my feet. Right… There’s also that. “Uh, don’t fall. There’s glass everywhere down here.”

“Yeah, looks like you had quite the rager,” Jake mused quietly. “Need help cleaning it up?”

“No,” I replied, laying his jacket over the back of the couch. “I never clean up while I’m here. She can hire someone to do it when she comes back.”

He nodded, slowly moving through the living room and taking in the sight. “Looks like no one has been here for months.”

“Yeah, we moved around a lot for her business stuff. She doesn’t come here much anymore. Guess it wasn’t as fun without a kid to throw in the ocean.”

Jake chuckled at my poor attempt to ease the tension and kicked the empty bottles of booze. “Think you broke my bender record for the most amount of alcohol consumed.”

“Shut up.”

He looked at me, eyeing my still trembling, soaked form. “You should get changed.”

I nodded. “A great idea. Sadly I don’t exactly have a ton of spare clothes on hand.”

He replied with a barely restrained grin, “We’re both adults. A little nudity never hurt anyone.”

“You’re funny,” I responded, grabbing my bag from the kitchen counter to search my options. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. “Fuck.”

Jake clicked his tongue. “Looks like we’re in for an interesting night.”

With a sigh, I turned to face him. “No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “But it’s a bit dark out now, and I’d hate to get caught wandering these dangerous streets at night.”

“Well, we both know how easy it’d be for you to get your ass kicked.”

“Absolutely. So, what’s the plan?” His smile grew unbearably wider as he raised a brow, drawing his eyes down the length of my body. “You wanna go first, or should I?”

I scoffed. “Do you really think I’m that easy?”

“If you were easy, I would’ve fucked you months ago, princess.” Jake took a step forward, relying on the play he always seemed to. Close the distance and force them into a corner to let the lack of space do all the work. And just like every time he’d tried it before, Jake was met with my body’s solid, unflinching mass.

“Really?” I asked quietly, deliberately keeping eye contact with him. “How many times have you tried this move?”

“A lot,” he admitted. “Though I’m not exactly complaining about how you respond to it.”

I set a hand on his chest and shoved him back. “Here’s the deal, I don’t have any dry clothes, and you don’t have any dry clothes. There’s a dryer in the upstairs bathroom. So you are going to shower because you smell like an old woman scrubbed you down with shitty ocean febreeze.”

“Not going to join me?” He asked flirtatiously.

“No. I will set up the bedroom for the two of us to sleep in. SLEEP in, no funny business.”

“I’d hardly call it funny-”

“Jake.”

He raised his hands with a smirk. “Alright, alright.”

I shook my head. “When you’re done, wrap a towel around your ass, and you can get in bed while I put our clothes in the dryer and shower. If you so much as try and peek, I’ll toss you in the ocean.”

“I kinda like it when you boss me around,” Jake replied with a wink. “Gonna give me a quick tour, or should I just start opening doors?”

Though his comment made my heart skip a beat, I rolled my eyes at him and led the way up the stairs and into my old room. I kept my head down as I showed him to the bathroom, trying as best I could not to let the belongings that had once been mine drag me back down. “Leave your clothes by the door, and I’ll grab them and put them in the dryer.”

He looked around the small bathroom, carefully snooping through the slightly dusty scene. “Last chance to join me. We could save some water.”

“Leave your shit by the door,” I replied, closing the bathroom door behind me as I set the bed.

The shower turned on after a minute or two of silence, allowing me a few minutes to breathe. I stood in the middle of the room, shivering slightly as I stared at the bare walls and the dusty surfaces that held one or two small trinkets. Nothing here was important… None of it was even real. The picture frames were empty, the ribbons and trophies held no memories of joy or any feelings of accomplishment, and none of the small trinkets I’d collected in my time here meant anything. 

This room was a tomb, a cage, a place haunted by the sons of a child and the endless stream of voices telling her she was not enough. I could practically see her bent over the desk by the window, desperately studying and afraid to look out the window. Afraid to watch the world and everyone in it pass by. You are enough, I wanted to tell her. You were always enough. But I knew she couldn’t hear me. I knew the past was set in stone. All her suffering and all her doubts and fears they’d already happened.

My hand settled against my shoulder, settled against the chilled skin marred by the hideous scar. I smoothed my fingers over it for a moment before snapping myself out of pity and regret of the past. Then, stripping the bed of its dust-covered blankets and sheets, I beat them out as best I could before putting it all back together. It smelt terrible, but it’d have to do. I shoved a few pillows in the middle, dividing the bed in half as the shower stopped.

Jake emerged from the bathroom with a towel hanging lowly on his hips, and his exposed chest glistened with leftover water. His arms were covered with dark tattoos, ones I didn’t get to look at closely before he leaned against the doorframe with a smile. “Left or right?”

“What?” I asked, quickly looking away from his chest to finish the bed.

I could practically feel Jake’s joy as he chuckled. “Do you prefer to sleep on the left or right?”

“I don’t really care either way,” I insisted.

He walked across the room and sat down on the left side, bouncing on the bed slightly before throwing his legs up and lounging back on the pillows. “I’ll take the left then.”

His smirk was unbearable as I turned and headed toward the bathroom. “Don’t fuck up the pillows.”

I tossed his wet clothes in the small dryer before stripping myself and adding my own to the machine. My whole body ached from swimming, and my head pounded. The hot water was a quick blessing, one that ran out quickly. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as the cold water stung my back. “Holy fucking shit!”

There was a soft knock at the door. “You alright in there?”

“You used all the hot water, asshole!” I hollered.

Jake chuckled. “Oops.”

“I swear to god I’m going to kill you.”

“That’d be pretty fucked up, considering I just spent my night saving your ass.” There was a pause before he spoke again, “Want me to join you? I’m sure we can find a way to heat the place up.”

“Open that door, and I’ll shove my foot all the way up your ass!”

His laugh, muffled by the door, still sent a shiver up my spine. No, I insisted. It’s just from the water. “Well, enjoy your cold shower then.”

“Dickhead.”

I was shivering when I’d rinsed the salty stench of the water off myself. I wrapped myself in a towel and turned the light off, quickly moving to my side of the bed and getting beneath the covers while Jake smiled at me over the pillows between us. He held his head up in his hand, resting on his elbow to watch me. “You know you’d be a lot warmer if we were closer. You know, body heat and all.”

I rolled my eyes and glared over at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I’m just saying, it’s awfully cold.”

“You’re always welcome to warm yourself up downstairs with all the glass.”

Jake laughed, the movement shaking the bed slightly as he moved to settle down first the night. “Fine, I’ll keep my warm body on my side then.”

“Go to sleep.”

He was quiet for all of twenty seconds before he spoke again, “Can I ask you something?”

I groaned quietly, glaring at him even harder over the pillows barricading between us. “What part about “go to sleep” do you not get?”

“Come on, princess, indulge me a little.”

“I think I’ve indulged you more than enough.”

Jake smiled at me, the moonlight casting across the side of his face and making that dumb grin of his glow. “I’m insatiable, what can I say?”

“What do you want to ask?”

“You told me about your mom. About what happened back then.” Anxiety consumed every inch of me as I kept breathing in and out.

“And?”

“You never told me why you were out there tonight.”

My jaw clenched as I thought about what to say. Why had I gone out there tonight? Why had I chosen to leap off a boat into the fucking ocean? “I…” I sighed. “I was pretty shitfaced.”

Jake saw straight through the deflection. “Were you… Was this some kind of… attempt?”

That fear I’d seen in his eyes as he leaned over the side of the boat and begged me to take his hand was back, shining brighter now as it looked like he held back tears. “No,” I whispered, reaching over the barricade to squeeze his hand. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

His eyes closed tightly as he squeezed my hand back. “Good. That’s good.”

Was that why he was still here? Did he think I’d jump back in the water the second he was gone? Clearing my throat, I pulled my hand back and settled into the covers, trying to regain a sense of separation from him. “No more questions til we’re both back in New York.”

“Oh?” He chuckled. “Will I get more than four next time?”

“Maybe,” I answered. “If you shut up and go to sleep.”

“Keep talkin like that, and I’ll be up all night, princess.”

I rolled my eyes before closing them tightly. “Stop calling me that.”

“Not a chance.”

“God, you’re annoying,” I teased with a smile.

Jake laughed. “It’s all part of my charm.”

*

Jake tossed and turned for a while before settling on his back, blinking the sleep from his eyes to stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. The ceiling of Lena Harrow’s old bedroom. The night’s events returned to him like a freight train as he quickly turned to look over the pillows where Lena had been sleeping. For a moment, he was worried she’d be gone, worried she’d wanted until he was asleep to sneak back out onto the water. That all melted away at the sight of her bare back glowing in the morning light.

Her red hair pooled over the pillow she buried her head into, and the bed shifted ever so slightly with each deep breath she took. Jake sighed before his eyes wandered down the smooth skin exposed to him. Her spine was decorated with a large tattoo, a snake shedding its dark, dull skin to reveal new pearlescent scales. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers along the gorgeous piece of art and trace the lines of her tattoo as well.

The same sensations he felt the day before rose to the surface. God, she’s perfect. Everything about her spoke to him, drawing him in like no one he’d ever known. She shifted slightly, making a soft noise that sent a wave of heat through him like damn lightning. He slid out from beneath the covers, careful to not jostle the bed and wake her up, though it was tempting just to see how she’d react to seeing his bare ass. If last night told him anything, she’d enjoy what she saw, just like she had when he exited the bathroom.

The room was void of the life and attitude that he knew Lena to have. The walls were painted a dull white, probably some pretentious name like eggshell or cream of some bullshit. There were no posters or pictures, no artwork, only photos of generic art that looked like it belonged in a hotel rather than a room. Trophies and ribbons hung from a few shelves, all for competitions he couldn’t imagine Lena enjoying. Mathematics, spelling, science, music… It wasn’t her. That was the point, though, wasn’t it? “I wasn’t like this back then.” He hadn’t known what she meant then, but he sure as hell did now. If this was the mold she’d been forced into as a kid, it was likely a hard thing to break out of. Jake looked back towards her, still sleeping beneath the covers, and felt sad. 

He didn’t get the normal childhood that other kids did. When he was younger, he hated them because of it. Hated everyone he came in contact with that had parents show up at recitals or parent-teacher conferences. Seeing this… Seeing how she had lived, been treated, and been put through for the first time, Jake considered that maybe she’d been right that night in the hall. Maybe he wasn’t the only one that had it bad. A dead mom was better than one that hated who you were so much she threw you in the ocean.

Jake had done his best to help the redhead out after the boat, but this situation was uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to act or what to say… and he really didn’t want to fuck this up. Lena’s trust and faith in him made him feel good. It made him think that maybe, just maybe, he could be the guy she thought he was, the guy Simone always wanted him to be. Dependable, honest, hardworking, selfless… Everything he felt he’d lacked.

Lena shifted again with another soft noise that made his mind go blank. If that’s how she sounds while she’s sleeping, just imagine how- He shut the thought down quickly and slipped into the bathroom to check on his clothes and to get some distance from her beautiful, naked, unholy sounds. His underwear and pants had dried nicely, but the shirt he’d worn along with Lena’s things was still damp. Jake restarted the machine and dressed as much as possible before quietly heading downstairs.

*

Waking up in the stiff musty bed felt like waking up years ago. It was unsettling how I lay there for a moment, waiting for her to come pounding on my door or even just waltz inside, uninvited to scold me for not getting out of bed fast enough. What was more unsettling was the silence. I turned, rolling face first to a wall of pillows that barred me from the other side of the bed. What the fuck? I peeked over at the unmade half of the bed, the used pillow, and the towel on the floor. It was then that I realized I hadn’t been dreaming about the insane events that occurred last night. I’d gotten drunk, drove a boat, and jumped into the ocean. Crazier than that was that Jake had found me… found me and stayed the night.

I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I recalled the way he snored loudly beside me, the way his feet and arms would ignore the pillows between us to seek out the person in bed beside him. Whether it was intentional or not, I didn’t know, but I wagered it’d be amusing as hell to find out. The room was empty. Jake must’ve grabbed his things and left before I woke up. I sighed, stretching the sleep from my limbs before making my way to the dryer to pull on the newly dried, still-warm clothes inside. My eyes were still heavy from sleep, and my head was pounding from the fun hangover I knew would be haunting me today.

I put my shoes back on and went downstairs to find some kind of medication or food before heading back to New York. Glass crunched beneath my feet as I turned toward the kitchen and stopped in my tracks. Jake was there, looking through cabinets and examining the boxes of expired food that no doubt was still inside. Just like last night, my eyes went to his tattoos. I couldn’t make out what most of them were from here, but I admired them nonetheless… them and the lean muscle of his exposed back and chest as he moved.

“Gonna stand there and stare at me all morning?” He asked, blue eyes flashing with that self-assured smug attitude of his.

“I thought you went home,” I deflected, moving to join him in the kitchen. “Why are you shirtless?”

Jake’s eyes shifted to look down at my chest, not unusual for him, though the way his lips curled into even more of a shit-eating grin should’ve been a warning. “Were you wanting me to peel it off your back or what?” I looked down at the t-shirt I’d grabbed from the dryer, his t-shirt. “I’m not opposed, of course, but there are far easier ways to ask me to strip you.”

I ignored how my face heated up at his words and shook my head. “I was still half asleep when I got dressed.” I turned back toward the stairs, pulling the shirt over my head and tossing it behind me. My shirt was stuck in the very back of the machine when I pulled it out and hissed, “Traitor.”

Jake was waiting in the living room, his shirt back on as his eyes scanned over the words of a book he’d found. He glanced up at me. “You could’ve kept mine, you know. We could’ve switched. 

“I think it would’ve been a bit of a tight fit on your end.”

“I could just walk around shirtless more. You seem to enjoy that.”

I scoffed and moved around the room, quickly packing what little I’d brought back into the bag I had brought. The tension in the air seemed to grow as the silence was weighed down by all that had been said between us. I cleared my throat. “Sorry, there’s not anything to eat here. I would’ve offered to make you shitty eggs or something.”

Jake chuckled, closing the book and setting it down where he’d found it. “As great as shitty eggs sound, I was thinking we could stop by a diner. It’s not far, and it’s usually not too busy.”

“Grumpy’s?”

“Yeah,” he smiled a bit, “I keep forgetting you lived here too.”

“It’s easy to forget,” I replied, nodding toward the door. “We can take the bike. I’ve gotta get going in a bit if I want to get back to the city before dark.”

“You’re leaving today?”

“Yeah,” I pulled my phone out of my bag and played the beginning of the thirty messages everyone had left me.

“Lena, you’d better fill that gas tank up before bringing my bike back!” Dom.

“Hey, fucking bitch, call me - us, I said US! Put that shoe down, Prue, I swear to God!” Quinn and Prue.

“Call me darling. You don’t have to talk. I just wanna know you’re safe,” Ozzy said.

“Lee,” Peter’s voice made a new wave of guilt hit me. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. Is everything okay?”

“Hey, shithead! Break another of those racks, and I will break your face! Sorry bout that, Lena,” Patrick said clearer into the speaker. “I know that was a lot… just call someone. Please. We’re starting to get worried.”

Jake looked at his feet as I closed the phone and shoved it back into my pocket. “Sounds like you’ll have a hell of a welcome home party.”

“More like a welcome home mob,” I replied.

“A mob is better than nothing,” he said quietly.

“Yeah.” I held his jacket out to him. “Here.”

He looked at it for a minute before shaking his head. “You wear it. It’s cold out today.”

“If it’s that cold, you’ll freeze without it.”

“I’m not the one that almost got hypothermia last night,” he responded with a winning grin. “Wear it.” 

I rolled my eyes and put it on. “Fine then.”

Locking the door behind me, the chilled gust of wind made me grateful that Jake had insisted I wear his jacket. I’d never openly tell him that; glancing back at the already too-smug look on his face, I shook my head. Nope. Never telling him that. He nodded toward the bike. “So this wasn’t the first time you stole a bike?”

“Nope,” I answered, pulling the keys out. “Dom freak out after I left?”

Jake shrugged. “Eh, he was more frustrated than anything.”

I nodded. “Yeah, well, considering how many times I’ve stolen this bike, I can’t blame him.”

“How many times have you stolen this bike?”

“Fifteen, maybe more.”

He whistled. “Damn, you’re kind of a criminal.”

I laughed and shrugged. “At least I’m a cute criminal, though.”

Jake laughed. “So, how are we doing this?”

“You ever been on a bike before?”

“Once,” he replied. “Wasn’t on it for long before Simone pulled me off, though.”

Swinging my leg over the side, I held the helmet out to him with a smile. “Newbies get the helmet.” He scoffed but put it on anyway. “Now, you just get on and hold on.”

His taller frame settled in behind me, keeping a vast distance between us. I laughed and took hold of them, placing them around my waist. “You’re gonna want to hold onto me.”

“I’ll take your word for it, princess.”

The bike came alive beneath us, and as we started to drive, I could feel a part of Jake come alive too. He laughed behind me, bright and full and childlike. It was a side to him I didn’t even know existed, but I enjoyed it, no matter how short-lived. Grumpy’s wasn’t far from my mom’s house, and Jake seemed to be almost disappointed by that as I found a place to park on the sidewalk, and we got off the bike. He pulled the helmet off and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Next time I steal the bike, I’ll be sure to invite you.”

“Sounds like fun,” He replied, holding the helmet.

I set it down on the seat and clipped my bag to the front. “You’re buying.”

“Am I?”

“Think of it as payment for all the cigarettes you bummed off me.”

He shrugged. “I guess that’s only fair.”

We sat across from one another in a booth close to the windows so I could keep an eye on my things. Jake ordered waffles while I ordered pancakes, which led us to a quick debate on which was better, but once we’d grown quiet, that same awkwardness and tension settled over the table. Fuck it. “So, last night was kind of crazy.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “It was.”

“I…” I looked up and met his gaze. “I’m sorry for putting that all on you. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

Jake’s brows furrowed slightly. “I don’t mind. I was the one that asked.”

“Would you have asked if you hadn’t had to pull me out of the ocean?”

“Eventually,” he assured me. “Don’t apologize for that. Not to me.”

I smiled, “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you-”

“You would have been okay,” Jake interrupted. “I don’t… Let’s not talk about that.”

Right, his mom… I mentally cursed myself. “Okay, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

I rolled my eyes and smirked. “Sorry.”

Another minute of silence passed between us before Jake spoke again, “I’m not gonna tell anyone if you were worried about that.”

“Not even Simone?”

“No, not even her. Though if you were looking for someone to help with that kind of thing, she’d be willing.”

I shook my head, playing with my fingers beneath the table. “I’m sure she would.”

Jake frowned. “She’s good at helping with stuff like that. I know I’ve said it before, but it’s true. When I moved in with her family, she was all I had. She basically raised me.”

“Alright, let’s make a rule. No more talking about Simone. I understand she’s a big part of your life and that you’re, you know, whatever, but my opinion isn’t going to change, and I have a feeling our friendship isn’t going to last long if we’re constantly fighting over our opinions of Simone.”

“That’s fair,” he answered as the server placed our plates in front of us. “I’m still gonna argue with you about waffles, though.”

“Fair,” I replied. “But if you’re planning on getting into a debate over breakfast foods with me, prepare to lose.”

He cut into his waffle. “You’re that confident?”

“Absolutely,” I said, stuffing my mouth full of pancakes and making an exaggerated sound.

The longer I spent around Jake, the more I enjoyed his company. He didn’t make any faces or comments about how messily I ate; no matter how curious he was about my past here, he kept it to himself. Though he was undoubtedly an asshole, Jake wasn’t too bad. I finished my pancakes, and he finished his waffles, so the two of us just sat there talking about stupid stuff before the door opened, and Jake’s eyes darted toward it with a sigh. “There you are!”

“Simone,” he replied, shifting in his seat to make room for her. 

She slid in beside him, not even looking over at me while she frowned at him as she set his phone down. “You left this at the house. I’ve been worried!”

“Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked,” he said, glancing over at me. Simone finally turned her head, and her mouth fell open slightly. Then, with wide eyes, she composed herself.

“Lena,” Simone said with a taut smile. Her eyes were wider than usual as they fixated on the black jacket, Jake’s jacket, that hugged my shoulders and encased me in the smokey and woodsy scent. “I didn’t know you were in Cape Cod.”

I smiled, somewhat gladdened that Jake hadn’t told her. “Yeah, it was a last-minute trip.”

She hummed, her eyes shifting to Jake, whose face had drained of his usual charismatic glow and was now replaced with a nervous look that made his whole face seem tight and tense. “So this is what you got up to last night.”

“Simone,” Jake started with a sigh as she sat beside him.

“It’s fine,” she answered with a broader smile that didn’t even try to reach her eyes. “I’m sure it was something significant that kept you from coming home last night.”

Tilting my head to the side, I shrugged. “That’s on me, actually. My bike broke down by the beach, and Jake happened to see me. He offered to help, which took much longer than it should have.”

Her eyes practically drank up the lie as she pursed her lips. “Sounds like you were fortunate Jake was around.”

“I was,” I answered, looking back over at Jake. He knew the truth, and that was what mattered, so I shoved down the part of me that worried that truth would be exposed to Simone’s all too eager ears the second I left them alone.

Jake watched Simone closely as she ordered, his forehead creasing when she’d gotten a beer over coffee or water. He could tell something was off with her, and though it was pretty obvious even to me, Jake seemed to pick up on it more than I could just from the small things she said and did. My stomach churned uncomfortably at the sight of them. Was this what it had looked like to everyone else? I wondered, darker memories simmering just below the surface. Was it this obvious that something was wrong between us? 

“So, what brings you to the Cape?” Simone asked as she settled into her seat beside Jake.

“It’s a personal matter,” I answered without hesitation and without apology. “Not really something I’d feel comfortable burdening a coworker with.” The message was clear. Move on.

She looked far too smug about the response as she nodded. “I understand personal matters can be quite difficult to navigate. But we’re always available should you need someone to help you find your way around. Jake and I grew up here, after all.”

I smiled, trying my best not to laugh at her apparent scramble to find a foothold that would tether me to her and force me to rely on her as Jake and so many others at 22West did. “I’m not staying, but thanks for the offer.”

Jake watched her as she took a long drink of her beer, worry solidifying on his features. “You’re leaving so soon?”

“Oh, I’ve been here for days,” I answered.

“Really? Where have you been staying?” Jake nudged her slightly, an apparent attempt to dissuade her from pressing questions, one that failed as she giggled softly. “Sorry, it’s just I know how difficult finding a decent hotel can be around here. I wouldn’t want you to have trouble sleeping because the bed is too lumpy or the place reeks of dead fish.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry, though,” I adjusted the jacket on my shoulders, “I slept just fine.”

How her face dropped for a moment told me everything I needed to know about her and Jake’s relationship. If I wasn’t sure before, I was now. Not only was Simone like my mother, she was like him too. A cold spike of rage coursed through my veins as I looked over at Jake’s timid and almost childlike behavior before meeting her eyes again. This time I let my polite mask drop. This time I let Simone have exactly what she wanted, a look into my thoughts. I know what you are. 

Her smile faltered as we stared one another down for a short moment. Then, she fixed her mask. “That’s good. There’s nothing better than a good night’s sleep.”

“I can think of a few things,” I replied, carefully pulling out my dwindling pack of cigarettes. “Like one last smoke.” I nodded toward the door. “Want to join me?”

He looked uncertain, looking at Simone for that ever-so-subtle nod before joining me. “Sure.”

The fresh air made the heavy weight of Simone’s gaze burning holes into my skull feel somewhat lessened as I leaned against the wall beside Jake and lit the cigarette, taking a quick drag before holding it out to him. “Sorry, you’re in the doghouse because of me.”

Jake shrugged, slowly regaining his usual attitude and demeanor. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to being on Simone’s nerves.”

“I can imagine.”

“She’s not usually like this,” he assured me quietly. “Ever since her ex came to visit a while back, she’s been… off.”

She’d get no sympathy from me, but for Jake’s sake, I shrugged him off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt with far worse people.”

Jake handed the cigarette back to me with a sad look. “She reminds you of your mom, doesn’t she?”

“A little,” I replied. “More so someone else that makes my mother look like a saint.”

He tilted his head carefully. “Who?”

I smirked. “You used up your questions last night.”

“Do you always have to make getting to know you so difficult?” He questioned with a smile.

“Of course. If I didn’t, you’d get bored.”

“I don’t think I’d ever get bored of you,” he replied, softer than before, with a gleam of something in his eyes… something nervous and unnamed. 

I could see Simone watching us closely from the corner of my eye like a predator watching over the prey she’d long staked her claim to. Jake wasn’t a game and certainly wasn’t anyone to claim. I pulled the cigarette from between Jake’s lips and took one last drag of it, closing my eyes to savor the smokey taste that filled my mouth as I exhaled. “Well, time for me to head out.” I placed what remained between Jake’s lips and slid past the window, making deliberate eye contact with Simone, waving at her as I walked towards Dom’s bike.

“Try not to wreck it,” Jake said, standing up from his comfortable position against the wall. “It’d suck to get back to the city and hear you’d been beaten to death by angry bikers.”

With a smirk, I swung my leg over and straddled the bike. “Or it’d be super badass coming back and hearing about how I beat the shit out of 20 angry bikers.”

He laughed, and his eyes softened. “See you at work, Lana.”

“See you then, Jerk.” I pulled the helmet over my head and started the bike, revving the engine before flipping Jake off and speeding down the street. He stood on the curb for a minute before turning and walking into the diner to face Simone.

I let the light rush of adrenaline wash over me as I drove. The engine roaring replaced the sound of the ocean. The smell of Jake on his jacket replaced the bitter tang of salt. The wind forced anything left of Cape Cod off me and left it where it belonged. Fuck the cape. I repeated to myself.

*

He sat back down across from Simone with a sigh, folding his hands on the table and watching her quietly eat the simple breakfast platter she’d ordered. Watching Simone drink anything other than wine made him feel weird, but seeing her do so this early in the morning was just concerning. “You hate beer.”

Simone smiled, chuckling as she examined the bottle in her hand. “I do.”

“How was the rest of the night with your mom?”

“You’d know the answer if you’d bothered to come back last night.”

“Simone,” Jake sighed. He felt guilty about not calling to let her know what had happened, but he hadn’t been able to think straight until this morning. It was something he found happened often when Lena was involved. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She shook her head. “Sorry is something you say when you forget to bring wine or dessert. You just disappeared, Jake. Sorry, it doesn’t cut it this time.”

“It’s personal okay,” Jake replied flippantly.

“Personal?” Simone hissed. “More personal than all I’ve done and sacrificed for you?”

Jake ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not my shit, Simone. It’s not my place to share it with you.”

Her pale eyes stared back at him with a downturned face of disappointment that he was familiar with. “Was she any good?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed. “I didn’t sleep with her.” Of course, technically, he did, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Simone that.

“Let’s not play games, Jake,” she said while taking a drink. “We both know how you are, especially with new coworkers.”

Whether she meant it as a dig towards his short relationship with Tess or not didn’t matter, it hurt all the same. He leaned over the table a bit more. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

She watched him for a minute before she finally sighed. “Good.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I didn’t really have time to think about it.”

“What happened?”

This was the moment he’d dreaded. Jake didn’t want to lie to Simone. It was one of their oldest rules, one that Simone mainly took seriously. But if he told her what happened last night, she’d no doubt try to help. It was just who she was, and that’d put a swift and bitter end to the friendship he’d just reestablished with a girl who was more like him than he thought. “It’s just like she said. I helped her out, lost track of time, and ended up crashing on her couch.” Her bed. The bed that made it impossible to smell anything but her.

“And where was she staying?”

“Simone-”

“The least you could do is tell me where you were. I-”

“Simone!” He interrupted. “Lena’s shit isn’t our problem. I helped her out. That’s it. Do you not trust me?”

She reached across the take and took hold of his hand. “Of course I do. You know I do. The one I don’t trust is her.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, I know you two don’t get along, but she hasn’t been anything but nice to everyone.”

“Nice is not a word I’d use to describe that girl.” Simone shook her head. “I read her file. Howard’s old system was actually useful for once.” She leaned in closer. “Lena Harrow is dangerous, Jake. Did you know she had a criminal record? Fighting, drugs, stealing, arson.”

With all he’d learned about her in just one night, Jake felt the list of crimes was relatively small compared to what he’d been picturing. Lena had a dark past; there was no denying that. “I’m not saying I know everything about her, but-”

“No buts. Just… Don’t sleep with her, and don’t get too attached,” Simone’s face softened, and large tears began to well in her eyes as she spoke. “I care about you, Jake. And I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

He held her hand. “I know. I promise I’ll be careful, Simone.”

*

I pulled up to the warehouse, parked the bike next to all the others, and knocked on the side door. A large man, lovingly known among Dom’s gang as Fluffy, opened the door and smiled down at me. “Dom in?”

“He’s at Nana’s,” Fluffy replied.

“Thanks!”

Weaving through the heavy foot traffic of the city, I squeezed through Nana’s door and offered the elderly woman a smile, one she met with a scowl. She quickly rolled up one of the newspapers and stalked from behind the counter toward me. The swats were too quick to dodge as she cursed in Arabic. “You worried us!” She shouted. “Stealing that bike and riding off, no phone calls, no notes!”

“I’m sorry, Nana!” I shrieked, rubbing my arm where she’d hit me. 

She pulled me into a tight hug and squeezed hard. “You never do that again! You understand me!”

I hugged her back. “I promise, Nana.”

When she finally pulled back, she shooed me toward the corner. “He’s in his seat.”

Dom always commandeered the booth in the very back of the restaurant. Said it was good for business even though everyone knew dealing beneath Nana’s roof was against the rules. He ate the food in front of him, wordlessly offering me the seat across from him. I slid his keys across the table. “It’s got a full tank.”

“Good,” he said, putting them back in his pocket. “Did it give you any problems?”

“No.”

Dom looked at me for a moment before he sighed and asked, “You feel better?”

With a shrug, I answered, “I guess.”

“I’m sorry about the jacket.”

“Dom, that was-” He held up a hand to stop me.

“I know it’s not the only reason you did it, but the last straw to set you off. My guy did it, and I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I’d offer to replace it, but we both know it was one of a kind.”

I sighed. “I don’t blame you for what happened, but thanks.”

He took a few more bites before asking, “How was Cape Cod?”

“Shit, as always.” I smiled. “But I guess it was better than the last few times.”

“That got anything to do with the tough guy?”

“What?” I looked at him with wide eyes and a, hopefully, slight blush. “How did you-”

“He mentioned having to pack for a trip to The Cape. It wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.” Dom smiled a bit. “I was just glad you’d have a familiar face around.” After a minute, he reached over and held my hand. “I’ve gotta tell you something, but promise you’re not gonna freak out and steal my shit again, okay?”

Dom was rarely this cautious about what he said, and it put me on edge instantly. “Okay.”

He squeezed my hand as he spoke. “One of my guys saw a familiar car driving through.”

“Familiar car?” I asked before the realization hit me, along with the memories of that engine roaring and the tires squealing beneath every movement. “Dom…”

“Relax,” he ordered quickly. “I’m looking into it. You’ll be the first to know if there’s anything to worry about. I promise.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

Dom waited to pull back until my breaths had evened out. “You should head to Ozzy’s. Those two have been worried.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Dom.”

“No problem, kid, just don’t steal my bike again.”

“No promises.”

“Get the fuck outta here.”

Nana filled my arms with to-go boxes, and I made my way to the bar. The security team grabbed a box from my arms and greeted me quickly. I set one down and tapped the bar, making sure the two bartenders knew it was for them before heading into Ozzy’s office. He sat with his back turned to me, looking down at a stack of papers. Finally, I knocked on the wall. “Hey.”

He turned and jumped up, pulling me into a big hug. “Thank Jesus! You’re not allowed to do that ever again!”

“I breathed in the comforting smell of Ozzy’s smoke and sighed. “Sorry, Oz.”

“Don’t be,” he insisted. “Just pick up the phone next time.”

My dad’s ruined jacket sat on the desk on top of a pile of things. It made me sad looking down at the remains of such a big part of my life. “I didn’t mean to ignore your calls. I just… It’s been a long week.”

He smiled. “I know, darling. But it’s okay now. You’re home, where we can all take care of each other.”

“Does Pete know?”

“No.” Ozzy shook his head. “I figured it’d be best, all things considered, to not tell him you’d run off.”

“Good. He needs to focus on getting better.”

Ozzy nodded in agreeance. “Patrick and I discussed what we wanted to do next week when he gets out of the hospital. He’s been asking to meet your coworkers for a while now.”

I groaned. “You’re not going to suggest what I think you are, right?”

“Between the three of us, we have enough to take him to 22West. So he’d get to meet your coworkers and have a high-end meal. It’s a win for everyone.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “I guess I owe you two this since I was gone.”

Patrick appeared in the doorway, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “This mean I need to get a suit?”

“Yes,” I answered. “It’s a pretty high-end place.”

“Say no more, sis. I’m on it.”

Ozzy smiled. “I think I have something that would work.”

“No hats.”

“Damn.”

*

I took the next few days off to readjust to the city and calm my nerves about returning to the restaurant. It was little more than a paranoid feeling that I’d return to Maddie back in the kitchen or, worse, my mother waiting in the front room for me. When I did go back, these feelings were quickly depleted as Scott looked up from prep and scoffed. “Bout fuckin time. Go get something to eat and then get to prepping.”

“Yes, Chef,” I answered, nodding to Isaac. “It’s good to be back.”

“Yeah yeah, hurry it up, Red!”

Changing into my shirt, I stared at my empty locker for a moment, quietly mourning the space dads jacket used to fill up. My fingers ran over the open air as I turned to smack right into someone’s chest. Jake’s familiar laugh made me look up with a smile. “Miss me that much?”

I rolled my eyes and took a step back. “There goes my good day.” He squeezed past me and opened his locker, looking at the leather jacket I’d stuffed inside. “I took the liberty of returning your jacket.”

“How’d you know my combination?”

“Sasha.”

“Right,” Jake chuckled, holding the jacket in his hands for a second before holding it out to me. “Why don’t you keep it for a while?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I’ve got another one.”

I smiled, turning toward the door. “So do I. Keep your jacket, Jake.”

The second I walked into the front room and toward the long table filled with people eating the family dinner, Sasha jumped up and wrapped me up in a big hug. He demanded to hear about my criminal history as Will set a plate in front of me. From across the table, Simone smiled as Jake slid into the seat next to her. The two of us held one another’s gaze for a moment before Howard broke the stiff silence. “Lena, welcome back. How was your vacation?”

“Oh, it was a hoot,” I answered.

He hummed, “So you found a place with the worst bed and drank all week?”

I laughed and nodded. “You know me, Howard, always the party animal.”

Howard nodded, sliding a small piece of paper across the table to me with a more careful smile. “Today, we’ve been gifted with a spectacular vintage.”

The paper unfolded, and a cold wave washed over me as I traced my mother’s handwriting. Leave a tip for the cleaners next time. I practically scoffed at the simple message before I tore the paper up and stuffed it into my pocket. Jake looked at me from across the table but said nothing as we ate the family dinner and drank the fancy wine.

Being tossed into the throws of a busy night of service felt exhilarating after the long break I’d taken. The kitchen was finally back to its normal flow as all traces of Maddie’s visit were washed away by Scott’s powerful voice and creative mind. As soon as things slowed down, I nodded at Santos. “Need some help with those dishes?”

He laughed. “Does it matter what I say?”

“Nope!” I smiled back. “Give me one second, and I’ll hop in and help.”

I wiped my hands down and shrugged my cook’s coat off, hanging it off the railing as I slid out the kitchen door and behind the bar. Nicky smirked at me as he cleaned some glasses. The restaurant was basically empty. Servers stood by the bar waiting for the last few tables to begin vacating, and Jake made one last drink for the only person sitting at the bar. I stepped behind him and smiled, gently tapping his shoulder. “You’re it.”

He looked at me with a scoff. “Pretty sure that’s cheating.”

“Pretty sure I don’t care,” I replied. 

“You know I’m just going to tag you once I’m finished with this drink, right?”

“You can try,” I egged on, sneaking back into the kitchen and sliding beside Santos to help wash the last dishes. 

Isaac was back to telling the whole kitchen his crazy stories bringing the entire kitchen to a loud clamor of laughter and comments. Because of the noise, I didn’t hear the steps as they settled in behind me until it was too late. Jake leaned over my shoulder and smirked, tapping my nose with his finger. “You’re it.”

He ducked away before I could splash him with dishwater. “I’m gonna tag you with this nasty wet hand!”

“Lookin forward to it, princess!” He yelled as he climbed the stairs toward the locker room.

Isaac leaned on the counter beside me, wiggling his eyebrows. “Princess?”

I splashed him. “Fuck off!”

Once the dishes had been put on the rack, the kitchen grew empty, and Santos and I walked upstairs to change. I smiled when I opened my locker and saw Jake’s jacket stuffed inside. Sneaky asshole. I shrugged it on, having forgotten to grab my own before returning his. One more night of wearing it wouldn’t kill me, and I’d gotten rather fond of how it smelled and felt around my shoulders.

Everyone was crowding around the bar when I got downstairs, everyone but Simone and Howard, of course. Howard smiled at me while Simone took one look at me, the jacket, and turned her face away. Jealousy didn’t look good on her. From behind the bar, Jake’s eyes ran down my outfit, and he smiled. I ignored how it made my stomach flip and how I wanted to make him smile again. 

“What are we talking about?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside Ari.

She smiled. “Tattoos. “

Sasha pointed at Jake’s arm. “We were just mocking Jakey’s shitty mermaid.”

I looked at the bartender’s modest mermaid tattoo on his inner arm. “Hey, that looks kind of like mine.”

“You’ve got a mermaid tattoo?” Jake asked with a smirk. “Show it to me.”

“No!”

Heather leaned in closer. “Ooohhh, I know what that means!”

Sasha and Ari cooed in my ears. “Where’s it at?”

“I bet it’s right over her pu-”

“I’m not telling any of you vultures!”

“Well, I know it’s not on your back,” Jake said smoothly, his smile never faltering.

I scoffed. “What happened to no peeking?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was always gonna peek, princess.”

Sasha nearly spat his drink out, wide eyes moving back and forth between the two of us. “Did Jakey finally take your flower, lovely Tiger Bitch?”

“No,” I replied, shoving him.

“Did get a pretty sweet view of you naked, though.”

“Bullshit!” I shoved a finger in his face. “If you’d have seen me naked, then you’d know exactly where the mermaid is.”

He lifted his chin up, smug and eating up all the attention. “Maybe I do.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t waste time demanding to see it.” I leaned back in my seat and smiled. “Shame, it’s in a good spot too.”

The cogs in his brain were practically visible as he thought about every possible location before leaning on the bar. “Ass?”

“Nope.”

“One of your boobs, then?”

“No,” I laughed. “And even if it was, you’d never get to see it.”

“Never say never.”

Sasha gagged. “If the two of you could just do the nasty already and quit the dirty talk, we would all appreciate it!”

Scott shook his head as he downed the last of his drink and stood. “Dinner, whose in?”

“I’m picking tonight!” Ari cheered over his shoulder, making the man wince.

“Great, everyone, prep your stomachs for some shitty Italian or something.” Ari punched him in the shoulder, and everyone laughed as we headed out the door.

*

As he walked beside Lena, Jake couldn’t shake the warning Simone had given him a few days ago in the diner or the looks she gave him each time he interacted with Lena. The redhead wearing his jacket laughed beside him at something Sasha had said from the front of the group. “Hey,” Jake said, pulling her lively green eyes to his. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ready for our question game already?” She teased with a smirk.

He couldn’t help but smile as well. “I was actually wondering something a bit more serious.”

“Oh?” She asked, tilting her head. “Well, I guess I could give you a freebie just this once.”

“How generous.”

She nudged him. “What’s on your mind?”

How was he supposed to start this? “I… I may have heard a few things about you that I wanted to ask about.”

“Well, there’s a good chance I’ll have answers. What did you hear?” She asked. 

“I heard you have a pretty extensive criminal record.”

Lena didn’t even bat an eye as she nodded. “Yeah, I do. Was there a particular crime you were curious about?”

Jake shrugged. “I guess I was just wondering how much of it was true.”

“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “Well, that’s easy then! I’ve got a lot of charges under my belt for fighting. It was all illegal rings, though, so no assault or anything crazy. Stealing was another big one. I don’t even know how many times I got busted for that.” She shook her head. “I was kind of shit at it.” She hummed quietly, trying to remember. “Oh, there’s drugs, obviously. Just buying, no distribution or smuggling or anything.”

“Any arson?” He asked.

She scoffed. “Okay, that one wasn’t on me! Some assholes were harassing Quinn at the club she works at, so she called me and Prue and Patrick to help walk her home. She didn’t tell us she’d dumped gasoline all over the sidewalk until after she lit the damn thing on fire to try and scare them. Bitch almost took off my eyebrows. Anyway, the cops showed up and arrested all of us. My dad and Ozzy were fucking pissed.”

Jake looked at her with furrowed brows. How the hell did she do this? Lena looked up at him and poked his forehead. “You do that more, and you’ll hurt yourself. What’s up?”

“Why are you so honest?” He asked.

“You asked,” she answered. “Did you want me to lie?”

“No,” Jake shook his head and chuckled. “I just… You’re just something else.”

She leaned closer to him and smiled. “Something good, I hope.”

Jake looked down at her and quietly agreed. She was something good. That night he watched her closely, trying to see what Simone did. Trying to figure out why she was so against him getting closer to the redhead, but the more he looked, the more he liked what he saw. As she tapped his shoulder and whispered another playful, “You’re it.” Jake threw all his notions of not knowing who Lena was out the window. He knew exactly who she was, and he trusted her.

*

I walked in the front door, quickly readjusting the straps of my dress before giving the hostess my name and telling her I was waiting for the rest of my party. Nicky spotted me from the bar and smiled. “Hey, Red, I thought today was your day off.”

“It is,” I answered, taking a seat at the bar. “I’m here as a guest tonight.”

“A guest,” he swooned. “Moving up in the world, are we?”

Jake returned from the back, pausing when he saw me. “The hell are you doin’ here?”

“Our little Red is a guest tonight,” Nicky said with a smile.

“A guest?” Jake pressed as he refilled the ice.

I scoffed. “I could be a guest.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Nicky asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No one,” I answered. “I’m here for a family dinner.”

Jake laughed at that. “Family dinner? I’m dyin’ to see what your family comes in lookin like.”

I nodded. “Me too. I told them it was upscale, but Ozzy’s version of that makes him look like an old victorian count and Patrick.” I winced. “Patrick is going to show up in something fucking hideous. So, I guess I should apologize in advance for you guys having to look at them all night.”

“Well, I don’t know about Nicky, but their outfits won’t bother me.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be too busy looking at yours.” He winked.

I turned my head away from Jake’s smile, an attempt to hide the blush that no doubt dusted my face with red. However, the sight waiting for me at the front was one that made me do a double take. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

[ch4ndn1]

i walked into solitary, the cushion room — slipped a black str8 jacket from sean’s closet on and asked him to fasten me up, then he left and i sat down, i would never see him again, he doesn’t turn back till his tires are spent, i sat down in the back corner of the room, and asked someone anyone to turn up the frequency of the silence to brain splitting levels, and then i watched goo leak from some orifice and drip onto the bridge of my nose and i just stayed there watching my brain and intuition drip out like a leaky faucet for maybe two weeks and now i’m outside and have no idea why the white stucco on the ceiling is sucking into itself after just one newport i take outside, i haven’t touched a newport since i was trying to keep up with r on set four years ago , where i experienced nicotine poisoning for the first time but he did hold me on the way back to soho after we wrapped, which i might’ve appreciated had i not smoked a pack in 90 minutes, it was an incapacitated REM level L, and i don’t smoke them unless i miss feeling so weak, unless i wanna feel like that baby again, but no i dont smoke them i dont have the heart for them, i just found one smashed in the bottom of my purse i left at my parents seven months ago, i allowed myself the indulgence. a dear friend on the other end of the phone call just said grazie mille to the most toad like fantasia italian accent i think she’s in puglia and the exhibitor of the accent had handed her a midnight cigarette as she informed me she’s been crying in the shower and laughing by the time she dries off every day she’s been in puglia, she stumbled upon a man in a car getting his dick sucked by a woman in his car, in front of the church, which she was sitting in front of, but at some point i believe she got up and started pacing around the cobblestone, as i was, in my own non cobblestone la alleyway, while we were talking and processing did u process it “” or at least i like to think of her doing so, us walking the same, but maybe if i were in puglia and not southern california i’d be looking straight and up and around, not so much ahead and down. imiss her and things, it’s been hard to hug my mom, my sister, i didn’t intend to be here right now, but i am here right now, i’ll try to hug my sister tonight and my mom tomorrow. i know i’ll miss the chance when i miss the chance and leave back to ny, i wish i didn’t feel a tinge of agony hugging my blood family but they wouldn’t be my relatives if it didn’t

the cigarette i took smelled like upstate still and it tasted like the way i felt in july of 2019, angry, which means alive, grateful for a taste. i took it while dodging my mothers forty fifth ceremony for yet another fissured bong she tipped over while stretching to fix a flower pot on the steps. weed is allowed recreationally so, though it’s illegal to smoke anywhere outside here. the whole town, just like plastic bags. but the teenagers ride on their e bikes and suck them vapes down and eat the core like i do my apples— only if their sticker starts with 9 otherwise i leave about a half inch around the core before i flick it away. i flick him away. so illegal that the inflated tits stuck to the speedwalking moms, speedwalking by my pacing, glare at me. mine aren’t inflated but they scowl back , i shrug and suck it down. i’ve always been paranoid here, it’s because my hair always been different and that difference permeated everything and now i’m less meek maybe a bit brash , so it causes problems . my step is a step my resentfulness fed direct to confidence around these people, so it causes problems

but why does the stucco do that? i’m trying to rest and keep my eyes open, i’m trying to let him make his way out my head, he’s good at keeping his things with his things but i’ve asked him to double check thrice. why is the ceiling moving like this after the newport. it was suppose to sage him out. why is it dancing when i feel like sinking into the bed past the floor dropping down another level and seeping into the carpet down another level into the rubble and further till i reach ocean and then rock and then rock and then past that my brain is too hot to register? i already feel this way now but instead of hot i’m feeling neutral, a dry ice temperature, a burn im seeing but can’t place when i was touched

jimi hendrix and bob marley played soccer together on a chance encounter in greenwich two years before jimi was found dead by asphyxia. i was reading into the reopened case being closed on the grounds that much time had passed after his death, it’d be no service to the public to take another look. i don’t know, who’s to know, but why did she feel the need to recall her recollection in different ways excluding big clumps and including pipe cleaners and camouflage mesh in certain points. it was dry. the vomit was dry. i’m writing this from the rocks stage left of ziggy marleys performance with the orchestra, people are dancing and they seem happy

[atozphantomsquadron]

III - Escape

(cw: sexual assault)

I was free.  For the first time in my forced social life, I was free of all of my tormentors.  When I stepped off of the bus to Flagstaff for the first time, that was the predominant thought I had.  I was free to study, free to be myself, free to engage in my own activities in the manner I saw fit.  No one would bother me.

Or so I thought.  Not long after arriving at the high school, I started receiving pressure on all sides, pressure to join clubs, pressure to hang out, pressure to have intimate lunches with other girls.  I had no idea why they would want to be near me, or even be so close to me all the time.  My words were heavy on my heart every time I tried to turn them down, only to get dragged to whatever event it was I would be brought to next, whether it was a girl’s slumber party, or another girl’s double-date, or a dance, or a school sporting event.  I wanted no part of it, but I could not get away from it either.

Among the most vivid and hurtful of these incidents was one about two months into that first semester.  I had been invited to yet another slumber party, for an affluent girl named Melissa Thorou, by the girl’s friends.  They had started trying their damnedest to hang out with me in the hallways, in the lunch room, even in my dormitory, even though they were not residents.  If I’d been the woman I am now, if I’d had the knowledge I have and the experience, I would have known what was coming next and politely declined, but at the time I just decided to go along with it in the hopes that they would leave me alone if I acquiesced.

The night of the party Melissa herself picked me up from the dormitory.  She had this eager expression on her face.

“It’s gonna be so great to be with you tonight, all of us girls have been looking forward to this for weeks.”

I nodded politely.  “I just heard about it a few days ago.”

“Oh, well … we didn’t really know you when we first set up the party, but now that we do it’s an awesome thing that you’re coming.”

The pause should have been suspicious.  She kept grinning like a Cheshire cat the whole way to her house, and all the way inside where she and the other girls congregated in her room.

The entire group was from the category of the so-called “rich bitches,” every one of them coming from a family whose income was at least in six figures.  Melissa’s father owned a bank; her best friend Ellie Barker’s family owned a supermarket chain; Tyne Reese’s mother was an inventor; Inez Madras was the heiress to a corporate fortune.  Then there was me among these girls, the odd woman out, the smart poor girl from the rez with nothing but my clothes to my name.

The slumber party was a lot like a typical slumber party.  We played all of the girlish games you associate with these kinds of events, told stories, shared experiences with boys, read fashion magazines, laughed a lot.  I tried to be polite and laugh with the other girls, despite my raising hackles; many of the topics they spoke about were specific to the high-income society they belonged to, and it was becoming obvious they were trying to show off to me.  When the mood shifted, however …

(Transcriber’s Note: At this point in the interview, Ariel became very agitated for the first time.  She almost seemed like she was having an attack of some sort, but I watched her and kept recording.  What instead happened was that her body started growing, and smoke began pouring out of her nose, almost like an unconscious rage reaction.  I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but thankfully at about this time Alanna fluttered over to the sofa to sit next to her mommy and calmed her considerably.  The recording has a long period of silence, during which Ariel clung to Alanna and wept; the only sounds that emanate during this period of silence are of Alanna’s voice, doing the oddly mature act of reassuring her mother.  After about ten minutes, Ariel continues.—DAM)

I’m sorry for that.  This is a very painful memory, and sometimes I relive it a little too intensely.  The mood shift was marked by Tyne’s seemingly innocent question to me, “Where do you live?”

I felt it was an innocent enough question, and decided to reply in kind.  “I live quite a ways away, on the reservation to the east.”

The four girls crowded around me.  “Really?  What kind of life do you have there?” inquired Inez.

“It’s a simple life.  My mother works as a trader with the tribal members living in the base of our canyon, that’s how we get along.”

Melissa, who had a very strong mind for economics, seemed fascinated.  “You guys actually work on the barter system?  In this day and age?”

“Well not everyone on the reservation.  It just happens that my mother does, and it’s kept us fairly comfortable for a long time.  She trades handcrafts with her partners in the canyon, and in return we get produce, eggs, milk, all the necessities of life.”

Ellie chimed in, “What about your dad?”

I sighed.  This question had come up so many times, I had a pat answer.  “He went away before I was born.  I’ve unfortunately never known him.”

A sigh … seemingly sympathetic … came from the group.  Inez came up closer to me.  “What about boys on the rez?  What kind of action do you see?”

I chuckled.  “Not exactly a lot … there aren’t many of us in our particular part, and it’s too much of a travel hassle to go elsewhere around Four Corners to meet them.  So we’ve just kind of been by ourselves for a long time.”

After being silent for a while, Tyne approached me. “Do you even … y’know, like boys?”

“Absolutely,” I replied without hesitation.  “There just isn’t a lot of opportunity for me.”

The girls giggled.  Suddenly their giggles seemed to not have so much innocence as before.  Melissa hushed the group.

“It’s all right, Ariel.  We’re just curious, that’s all.  It’s not every day we get the chance to talk to the official school Navajo.”

More giggles.  I was getting uncomfortable.  “Please, I don’t want to stand out so much.  I came here because I wanted to get away from some bad experiences.”

Inez put her arm around my shoulders.  “Don’t worry, so did I.  I know what you mean, really.”

Melissa at this point stood up and flicked off a nearby light switch, as all of us were feeling fairly tired at that point.  With all of the mental strain I had been under to keep my answers civil, I virtually collapsed under my own weight and got under the covers of my sleeping bag, ready to finally relax.  If only I’d been allowed that luxury, maybe some things would have been different.

The lights had flicked off at around 1am.  At around 3am was when I first noticed some strange sensations down my body, cold sensations followed by gentle warm ones.  I was in a half-sleep fog, so it was hard for me to comprehend there was something going on: I assumed it had been part of a dream I had been having about riding a giant eagle, a dream I have had periodically all my life.  I think I would have kept on sleeping had I not heard a sound to snap me out of my dream:

Melissa was trying very hard (and failing) to hold back laughter.

My eyes flew open.  When I looked down at my body, I realized what I had thought I had dreamed, what the sensations actually were.  The other three girls had opened my sleeping bag and pushed aside most of my clothes.  Tyne and Inez each were holding part of my pajamas while Ellie was straddled on top of me, mostly nude and making sexual motions on top of me.  Melissa was holding a camera.

I panicked and tried to wrestle free from the grip of the girls.  At this point Melissa’s laughter could be held back no longer, and she erupted with harsh, coarse braying.  The other girls laughed alongside her, while I tried to wriggle my way out from under them.  I could not form coherent words, just made animal sounds to convey my anger at them.

Melissa tried to stifle a laugh for a moment.  “Oh come on, Ariel, you think we buy there’s no boys?  There’s no boys because you don’t want boys!”

Inez followed quickly behind.  “Admit it, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?  Want some more?”

The other two girls squealed with their own laughter, sounding unable to breathe.  The experience hurt too much.  In a panic state, I looked desperately for a means of escape.  Any would do.  I didn’t care how humiliated I was, I wanted out.  I burst out of the room, not bothering to change or even readjust my clothes.  I ran non-stop, through the house and out the door, ignoring the peals of laughter continuing to rain down from Melissa’s room.  I ran for most of the rest of the night, only stopping once I’d reached what I felt was the safety of the girls’ dormitory at the high school.

I ran up through the halls and to my room, which thankfully was unlocked: my roommate had apparently gone to the bathroom.  I curled up into my bed, desperate to have warmth and comfort, and just cried until dawn.  I was vaguely aware of my roommate coming back to the room, asking me what was wrong, but then going back into her own bed.

I should backtrack slightly and tell you about my roommate.  Her name was Heather Lisle: she was an evangelical Christian and we had spent several days prior to this incident having long, animated discussions about our faith.  She was a nice girl, the closest I’d seen to my mother in any of my school experience, and as such I felt good and safe with her as a roommate, so it was a relief to see her face, already up, when I finally roused myself the next morning.

“Rough night?” she asked helpfully.

I tried to adjust myself as I sat up in bed, curling up in a ball.  “Yeah.”

Heather sighed and continued what she was doing, scrawling into a schoolbook.  “Want to talk at all?”

I shivered.  “I don’t know what to say.”  I turned and looked at my smiling roommate.  “Why do people do things to me?  Why do I have to suffer?”

“Sometimes that is God’s will, Ari.”

I shook my head.  “God has nothing to do with this.  God didn’t put the idea into those girls’ brains.  God didn’t make them touch me …”

I started crying again.  Heather crossed the room and put her arm around me.  This time the arm around my shoulders felt more secure than when Inez had done it the night before.  It felt more sincere, more friendly.  I liked it better.  I gently leaned against Heather and kept on crying.

“It’s okay, Ari.  Some things people do don’t come from God, they come from elsewhere.  Most times it’s from their own weakness.  Don’t let it get you down.”

I sniffled.  “Why don’t people like me?”

“People don’t like what’s different.  It’s hard-wired into our brains, I think.  However it comes about, we just lash out at people and things that challenge our perception of the way things are.”

I looked up at Heather.  The words she had been speaking sounded far more mature than her 15 years.  She gave me her beatific smile again.

“Trust in God, Ari, just like you have before.  Things will improve.  You will find a way to make them change, make them better.  When God opens the escape hatch, Ari, take it.”

Heather stayed with me the rest of the day.  We ate together.  She kept an eye on me to make sure I was feeling better.  Honestly, of all the people I encountered in my early years, she was the closest to a true best friend I had.  I will never forget her.

Keeping to Heather’s advice, I continued on.  I forgave Melissa and her gang, despite their best efforts to spread the word around the school that I was a lesbian, complete with so-called “photographic evidence.”  I continued to excel at schoolwork.  I made the honor roll every semester.  My grades belied the storm that brewed within my soul, the anger and the torment that I felt.

Near the start of my senior year at the high school, I started getting attention from several colleges trying to recruit me, offering all forms of scholarships for Native Americans.  None of them appealed to me, none of them made me feel like I was meant to go.  Sometime during the first month of the semester, though, I found the right choice.

A recruiter arrived at the school from a far distant college, the Virginia Military Institute.  I had considerably high scores in my math classes and the math portions of my tests, and that got everybody’s eyes on me.  What got my eyes on VMI was the recruiter who came, who happened to be an aide to the campus chaplain.  During the appointment, during our interview, he talked about matters both military and spiritual, in addition to guiding me in the right degree direction for my talents.  The fact that this man had chosen to spend part of his time with me on things I would find interesting really struck me as feeling right.

“When God opens the escape hatch, Ari, take it.”  Heather’s words reverberated through my mind.  I had found my escape.

[maliciousmalfeasance]

Two years ago I wrote a song about a friend I was missing. I’d just moved back to the city I grew up in and by pure chance I ended up in a unit only two streets away from where me and said friend would practice for a day or two before going into town to busk alone in our high school holidays. At the time I was still trying to figure out who the hell I was, but had gingerly settled on the label lesbian despite the fact it didn’t really seem to fit me right. He was bi and didn’t quite know it yet, 15 and already drinking and smoking daily and dealing weed. I was, in comparison, super innocent. Refused to smoke or drink. Not even sure why, honestly? I think I was just terrified back then. I knew I didn’t fit into what everyone wanted for me, but I was still so scared to step out of line. Got there eventually. He had the confidence to lead me places I’d not be brave enough to take myself. We would sit under a particular tree outside some Asian grocers and cheap clothes stores in a particular thoroughfare of a particular cbd, right across from an old sandstone church. We’d sing hallelujah, and 9 crimes and all these slow sad duets about stuff we’d both never had a chance to experience yet. His voice was low and raspy and mine clear and high. I think we sounded pretty nice. We used to make really decent money. Like about a hundred for an hour. We’d gather up the coins and notes from his guitar case and take it to the bank to get notes. Count it all up. 50/50. Then buy ourselves lunch and head home. For reasons I wont air out here we ended up drifting apart, by the time I made up my mind to move cities for uni I’d already not heard from him for a year. Being back in the streets we’d hang around, so close to his old house... Had me expecting to see him around every corner. I kept just waiting to bump into him like things had never changed. But I knew things had changed. I wrote the song with these feelings in mind. Nostalgia, innocence and teenage rebellion butting heads.

I’m not sure how to introduce the next part of the story honestly.

He died. I guess that’s the simplest way to put it. He died within a month of my writing that song. Not that I’d find out until a year ago. The song has the same lyrics now as they did when I first wrote it, but they mean something else. Or maybe something more. In a way it makes perfect sense. The story starts as a reflection on nostalgia- a wish to reconnect without knowing how to even start- and of course it ends with the ultimate disappointment. There’s really no chance now. I’ve missed it. If I’d tried to reach out instead of agonising over it back then, I might have at least had a chance to patch things up before he died. Maybe I’d even have been able to have that conversation with him again, the same one that went all wrong when we tried to have it as teenagers. I might have been able to actually help him change the course he was on. Or at the very least let him know he still had someone in his corner.

But that didn’t happen. And so. I have a song and a pit in my guts and grief and hurt and only one way to get it out of me. It’s a lot. I know. I’m still on the fence over whether I should even publish it. It’s so much of myself. It’s not enough. It’s a wound in the shape of a song.

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

[silver-tongued-bby]

Discretion

Pairing: Dom!CEO!Loki x Reader

Summary: After dropping out of grad school and moving back home you expected very little of your summer. That is until you realise your neighbour, Mr. Laufeyson, has other plans. Set in the mid 90s!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dom!Loki fic - though it's not super bd/sm heavy, it explores themes of voyeurism, dub!con spanking, humiliation and degradation. Sexual acts are described including vaginal fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving) and sexual intercourse (f/m). Smoking is also described. Please read at your own discretion (hehe see what I did there?).

Words: 5,026

Author's Note: I'm excited to say that this is my first ever submission for a challenge! Specifically it's for @boxofbonesfic's Hot Girl Summer Challenge.

I chose prompt 12 (Home for the Summer) and a slightly edited version of quote 17 ("If I have to tell you again to take that off, you’re not gonna like me sweetheart darling.") then for kinks I chose voyeurism/exhibitionism and degradation though there's a sprinkling of praise kink in there too.

Not sure why when I think of summer I think of mid 90s summers but here we are. This kinda went places I didn't expect, nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

...

God you were bored.

Stretching out on the lounge chair you sighed, letting your shoulders droop with the long exhale.

“Oh honey, you can’t keep sitting out here in the sun.” Your eyes rolled behind your dark sunglasses, turning towards your stepmother as she came down the stairs from the deck of the house.

“It’ll give you wrinkles dear,” she was standing beside you now, hands on her hips as she stared down at you. She was wearing that ridiculous hat again- the one with the brim as wide as she was tall.

“Carla, darling, we can’t all hide away from life in hopes to look as good as you do.” You lazily gazed at her, sitting up to find your pack of cigarettes on the side table. Taking one out you brought it to your mouth and lit it with your gold plated zippo. You took a long inhale before exhaling right in her face, “when I tell people you’re 53 they can hardly believe it.” Her eyes widened- you’d found her drivers license months ago and held the knowledge of her true age over her since then. You continued, ”my compliments to your doctors. Oh and Botox, kudos to Botox.”

Her little hands formed fists, fake nails pressing tiny neon-pink crescents into her palm.

You laughed, lounging back in the chair as you leisurely took drags off your cigarette. Smiling to yourself as you counted- three, two, one, before Carla shrieked and turned.

“Arthur! Arthur!” She screeched, running back up the stairs to tell your father.

You were a little less bored now, but making Carla’s face turn red could only give you so much satisfaction. You knew your father could care less, they were both about to leave for the Côte D’Azur tomorrow for the rest of the summer, leaving you here alone to “consider the consequences of your actions.” Or however your father had put you dropping out of school after one year of graduate studies in Classics.

He couldn’t help himself from belittling your degree while you were studying, then once you’d decided it wasn’t for you his lectures changed to be about “never giving up” and “seeing something through.” You both knew he simply didn’t want you around- he just couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

“Now those will definitely give you wrinkles,” you heard a smooth, silky voice coming from behind you that made your heart race. Smiling, you swung your legs over the side of your chair, taking off your sunglasses and snuffing out your cigarette.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you started, eyeing the lithe figure as he emerged from the shadows. He held his hands in his pockets, his crisp black trousers fit perfectly to his frame. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the pale skin of his toned forearms. You were well aware of the small scraps of white fabric covering your body, and you enjoyed watching his eyes trace over your skin. You’d lusted after him ever since your father had moved here during your first year of college. You’d met him at one of Carla’s Christmas parties- she invited everyone from the gated community over, including your neighbour, Loki Laufeyson.

“I’m so sorry if my stepmother’s incessant shrieking ruined your afternoon,” you grimaced, taking a sip of the ice cold vodka soda beside you. “Is there anything I can do to remedy the situation?” you asked, your eyes innocently meeting his.

He chuckled. “Oh I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already thought of something,” he said under his breath loud enough for you to just make out. He strolled towards you and took a seat on the lounge chair beside yours. “I’m actually here to see your Father. He’s asked me to check in on things here while him and Carla are away.”

You rolled your eyes- of course he did. You caught Mr. Laufeyson staring at you as you did that, his expression darkening slightly and his eyebrow raising before he continued. “I am surprised to see you here- last I’d heard you were studying in Europe. Graduate studies in Classics, right?”

“Yeah. It didn’t exactly pan out.” You looked down, cursing yourself for feeling your face grow hot. The last thing you needed was your gorgeous neighbour feeling sorry for you.

“Laufeyson you bastard, you’re late!” Your Father was coming down the stairs, jovial with his greeting.

Loki got up from his seat to meet your father. “Arthur,” he said, shaking his hand. “My apologies, I got held up at the office. It’s been insanity since the new acquisition.”

You tuned out the rest of the business jargon and settled back into your seat, facing the other way. You put your sunglasses back on, wincing once your heard Carla’s shrill voice coming from above.

“Is that Loki Laufeyson? Oh it’s been ages!” she gushed.

“I suppose it has.” You could tell she’d pulled him in for a hug and a kiss on either cheek. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the clear discomfort in his voice.

“So I can trust you to keep an eye on the place?” your father chimed in.

“Certainly, although it seems your daughter is perfectly capable of doing so herself.” Mr. Laufeyson rightfully pointed out. You raised an eyebrow, wishing you could see the expression on your dear dad’s face from your position. Mr. Laufeyson was probably the only person in this community that could and would tell your Father that- his annual appearance in Forbes certainly cemented the position.

“You never know with kids, Laufeyson. No matter how old they get you can’t trust them to carry through with something. Just wait until you have one of your own- then you’ll know what I’m talking about." He laughed loudly. You scoffed. Fucking asshole.

“I see. I’ll keep an eye out then.” Mr. Laufeyson said cooly.

“Right well feel free to pop by anytime, we leave tomorrow morning. Here’s the number of my cellular telephone- I always have it on me you know.” Your father was obsessed with his clunky mass of plastic- he brought it everywhere he went, mostly to brag about it to strangers or talk obnoxiously on it to avoid conversations with you or Carla.

“He really does. Even in the bedroom!” Carla giggled, causing you to shudder in disgust.

“Of course, well I should be on my way.” He stepped back over to you. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around. Here’s my information,” he placed a thick, black and white business card onto the small table beside you. “In case of emergency.”

You pulled your sunglasses down your nose and slid your eyes up his body, biting your lip as you met his stare. “I’ll be sure to remember. See you around, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He considered you for a moment and you thought he was about to say something else before he nodded and turned, heading for the gate.

You settled back in your seat and nestled the headphones of your discman over your ears. You pressed the play button, the beat of Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy” drowning out whatever Carla and your father were arguing about once their guest had left.

...

It was much later that evening that you finally slipped from your room to find some dinner. The house was dark- you knew your father and Carla had an early flight. Grabbing a wrapped plate from the fridge that the housekeeper had left you you headed to the back deck to eat. You kept the lights off as you watched the dim foamy white of the ocean’s waves hitting the rocks below, finding peace in the sound.

Finishing your meal you were about to head inside when you saw a light come on out of the corner of your eye. From where you were sitting you could see into a room on the top floor of Mr. Laufeyson’s house. Interesting- you’d never seen into this room before, the windows that faced your father’s house were usually shuttered. You laid back and lit a cigarette, choking on the inhale when you saw Mr. Laufeyson emerge, shirtless, his eyes dark and hungry. He was pulling a woman behind him, a blonde, her shirt unbuttoned to expose a lacy red bra. Once he stood at the edge of the bed he turned around to kiss her, his hands moving to the clasp of her bra. Undoing it, he pulled away to slide it down her arms before turning her around and unzipping her skirt, leaving her in just a high waisted red lace thong.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. You were transfixed by the scene unfolding in front of you. He flung her on the bed- from your position you could see it all as if it were happening in a room adjacent to yours. Climbing over her he dipped his head to capture her lips once more as he ground against her. Your legs clenched together as you continued to smoke your cigarette, the combined effect of the nicotine and the scene in front of you making your head spin.

His hand trailed down to the red lace covering her heat as he continued to kiss and grind against her. Slipping his fingers in you found you were doing the same to yourself, feeling the hot wet of your arousal. He had pulled away from her now, watching her face intently as her back arched up off of the mattress, her hands clutching his toned arms. He was saying something to her, his eyes going from her face to her heaving breasts as he continued to work his hand inside of her. A flush was blooming on her chest, her mouth open and her eyebrows drawn together. You were moving your hand in time with his, your arousal coating your fingers. His movements became faster as he continued to speak to her, smiling menacingly before her back arched fully off the bed, her hands grasping at him. Withdrawing from the dampened red lace his fingers glistened in the light, wet from her release.

He easily picked her up off the bed, carrying her to the window sill. He roughly pulled her panties down before he undid his trousers then lined himself up at her entrance. He pressed into her, her back flat against the glass and his face visible beside the back of her head, his eyes closed. You imagined how it’d feel, the cool glass against your back, his warm hand firmly gripping your thigh, his strong arms holding your legs open as he fucked you. He began to move inside of her then his eyes opened, staring straight at you in the darkness. Your heart beat faster as you felt yourself blush- surely he couldn’t see you out here, you were shrouded in the dark. You could barely see the outline of your hand as you brought it to your face for another puff. You froze- the cigarette.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hissed, quickly removing your hand from its position and shakily putting out the cigarette on your dinner plate. Sliding your chair out quietly you chanced one last look towards the window- he was smirking in your direction as he continued to move against the blonde. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you backed away towards the porch door. You could swear his eyes didn’t leave you once and it sent shudders through you. You made your way back to your room and lay awake for hours, each time you closed your eyes you saw his piercing blue-green stare and filthy smirk.

You must have drifted off at some point since you eventually awoke to silence- an anomaly. You’d usually wake to Carla’s screeching laugh as she spoke on the phone to her friends, or she’d send the housekeeper Marie to wake you. You checked the clock beside you- 9AM. Carla and your father were long gone by now.

You smiled at that, stretching lazily before cranking the radio and dancing around your room as you got ready, the sunlight beaming in through your window. Making your way to the main kitchen you froze, last night coming back to you. The way Mr. Laufeyson had looked out at you as if he were expecting you to be there. Did he leave the blinds open on purpose? You shook your head, no way he’d be that forward. Sure he flirted with you every now and then, but nothing beyond that. You pushed the thought from your mind for the rest of the day.

...

A week passed quickly, you spent a lot of time with your friends, going shopping, to the beach, or local restaurants. You didn’t spend much time around the house so you hadn’t seen Mr. Laufeyson since the “incident”. On Friday you met up with some friends midday and got a ride to one of their parents’ beach houses. You spent the day there, drinking and laughing as you enjoyed the sun. Your friends dropped you back off at your place at around 7pm, you were pleasantly buzzed but looking forward to a quiet night in.

It was so hot outside you decided to take a dip in the pool. Cranking the radio in the backyard you decided to skinny dip- no one was home anyways. You sighed as your heated skin met the water, cooling instantly. You did a few laps before lazily swimming a backstroke and humming the music on the radio when you saw something coming towards you out of the corner of your eye. Standing upright you saw Mr. Laufeyson walking towards you from the door to the backyard, a smirk playing at his lips. Your heart started beating quickly as you realised the position you were in, remembering his hungry stare from last week. You swam over to the side of the pool to meet him.

“Hi,” he smiled, looking down at you.

You bit your lip and innocently looked up at him. “Hello, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“I’m sorry to intrude.”

“No worries. Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Laufeyson?” you asked, noticing his eyes taking in your body under the water. He definitely knew you were naked. Your thighs clenched together at the thought.

“I was coming to see you about something that happened last week that had me… concerned. I thought I saw someone out on the balcony, late at night. Was that you?”

You felt your cheeks grow hot, your heartbeat picking up to a mile a minute. “What day was this?”

“Last week Friday.” His face was serious as he strolled over to a pool chair, pulling it closer to the side and taking a seat.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone was out there then.” The words came out a lot quicker than you’d meant. You were usually pretty good at lying but something in his voice made you want to tell him the truth, to please him.

He tsked. “I’ve seen you lie better than that. Try again darling.” He sounded bored as he reached for your pack of cigarettes on the side table. He raised an eyebrow in question as he drew out a cigarette. You nodded, nervously biting your lip as he lit it and crossed his legs, leisurely smoking while he stared you down.

“No words, little one?” he teased, smirking down at you. “Did you at least enjoy the show?”

You huffed- this was humiliating. How dare he? You found anger quickly overtaking your initial shock and embarrassment as you made your way to the pool stairs and got out. You raised an eyebrow at him and smiled when the smirk slid off his face at the sight of your naked, wet body. Two can play this game. Walking over to him you grabbed a towel off the chair and wrapped it around yourself.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply here,” you grabbed the cigarette from between his long, muscular fingers and took a long drag. “But I didn’t see you last Friday night. And I definitely didn’t see you fucking that blonde-” your eyes widened at your own confession.

He stood to his full height and stepped closer to you, looking down at you once more. You backed up a step, feeling the lounge chair behind you.

“Drop the towel,” he growled, the hungry look in his eyes fully directed at you this time.

“Listen-“ you started to explain yourself.

“Drop. The. Towel.” He enunciated each word with his crisp accent and perfect voice.

“I knew it- I knew you wanted to fuck me.” You smirked at him triumphantly as you took another drag.

“If I have to tell you again to take that off, you’re not gonna like me darling,” he threatened, stepping closer.

“Oh really?” You laughed, taunting him. “And what are you going to do, Mr. Laufeyson?” You blinked innocently at him, enjoying the way the muscles in his jaw clenched.

Suddenly he grabbed your jaw, firmly but not painfully as he brought his face inches from yours, your eyes locked.

“You fucking brat.” He roughly pulled the towel down, exposing your body to the warm air. He pinched the cigarette from your fingers, extinguishing it under his shoe on the concrete. “I’m going to have to teach you some manners, aren’t I?”

Before you could answer he spun you both around and sat on the lounge chair then pulled you over his lap, angling you so your top half rested on the chair, your hips over his. One hand firmly held your lower back in place, the other smoothed over the skin of your ass and you squirmed. His hand came down to spank you, hard. “First lesson- don’t fucking move until I tell you to.” You whined, your face burning.

His hand came down again in the same spot, causing you to hiss and grip the plastic of the chair in one hand and his thigh in the other. “Second lesson- always answer me.”

You were humiliated but you found yourself growing even more wet with each spank. First there was the pain, then a wave of pleasure that intensified when he smoothed his hand over the skin he’d hit.

He gave you another slap, “what did I just say?” He growled, his hand roughly gripping the skin this time.

“T-to always answer you.” Your voice was small as you stuttered, overwhelmed by the way he was making you feel.

“Good girl.” You'd felt a tiny swell of pride at that. “I’m going to spank you three more times. Count them for me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, worried if you didn’t answer he’d add more to the list. His hand came down on your other cheek, hard and fast.

“One,” you counted, taking a deep breath. Before you could forcibly relax your tense muscles his hand had struck your cheek once more, causing you to hiss.

Your finger tips were pressing into his thigh as you let out a breath, the sharp pain receding. “Two,” you licked your lips and tensed in anticipation of the third and final slap.

After a few seconds you relaxed then turned to catch his eye- he was darkly observing you with his jaw clenched. Suddenly he hit the skin once more, this time the hardest, causing you to cry out.

You composed yourself with a quick breath. “Three.”

“Well done, darling.” He was gently running over the sore skin with his large hands. You could feel his erection under you.

“I wish you could see how lovely you looked on my lap, taking your spanking so well.” He dipped his hand between your legs. You sucked in a breath when you felt his fingers brush along your wet slit causing you to writhe on his lap.

“My poor, little thing. You’re dripping,” his voice was pure sin as he brought his glistening fingers up to your face.

He shifted, his strong grip helping you off his lap so you stood before him on shaky legs. You bit your lip, face growing hot as suddenly became fascinated with your fingers, twisting them painfully.

He stood then, and brought his finger under your chin to guide your eyes to his. He wore a satisfied expression, a slight grin at his lips as he took in your naked form.

“Do you think you’ve learnt your lesson darling?” He asked, his eyes mocking yours.

You quickly nodded, feeling fully exposed in front of his fully clothed form.

He licked his lips. “Do you want to go upstairs so I can fuck you?”

Your cheeks burnt as you nodded quickly again.

“Answer me darling,” he dropped his hand from your chin.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

A slow, filthy grin spread across his face. “Lead the way,” he motioned towards the stairs.

You bent to reach for your towel on the ground. “Ah, ah, no need for that darling.” His words stopped you. You shivered as you stood back up, another wave of heat pulsing through your core.

You tentatively walked up the steep stairs and he followed closely behind. You could feel his gaze on you with each step.

Once up on the patio you looked back at him, his eyes dark with hunger. You gave him a shy smile before leading him inside. You stopped- should you bring him to your bedroom?

Before you could finish your thought he slid up behind you, his hands coming to grip your waist. “Where shall I take you, darling?” He whispered in your ear, his breath making you shiver.

He let go of your waist to circle you, stopping before you. “Do you want me to ruin you on that god awful couch?” He looked over his shoulder to the gaudy floral couch Carla had ordered special from Italy. She wouldn’t let anyone who wasn’t company sit on it in fear of stains.

You smiled at the idea of ruining the couch with Mr. Laufeyson, knowing Carla would lose her mind- even more so if she found out how it got there. “Yes please.”

He pulled you towards it then gently guided you to sit at the edge of it, angling you so you were in one corner. His hands splayed over the skin of your legs, gently pushing them apart. The feeling of the cool air of the house on your slit gave you goosebumps.

He kept his eyes locked with yours as he knelt between your legs before he turned to press a kiss to your thigh close to your knee. He then bit the skin there, earning a sharp inhale from you before he soothed it with his warm tongue.

“Tell me, darling. Did you touch yourself? Did you play with yourself as you watched me?” His velvety voice sent an involuntary shudder through you, his eyes capturing yours.

He nipped at your thigh with his teeth, marring the skin. You yelped then swallowed. “Yes! Yes, I did.”

“Good girl.” He moved to repeat his actions further up the inside of your thigh while he gently ran his fingers up and down your other thigh.

You were trembling while you watched him, each bite a little harder than the last as he got closer to your wet core. His eyes met yours once more then he blew a stream of cold air over your slit, causing you to gasp sharply. He smirked before letting his lips barely graze over your clit, your hips moving slightly before he brought his arm down over them to hold you in place.

He ever so gently pressed a kiss to your clit before gently running his tongue over the sensitive flesh, pulling a moan from you. You could feel your wetness dripping down onto the couch below as he continued to delicately tease you.

“You taste divine, darling. Better than I’d imagined.” You whined at his words- the idea of him alone, picturing what your cunt tasted like brought you to the edge of an orgasm.

He smiled wickedly up at you. “So close already? Poor thing.” Bringing one long finger to your slit he gathered some wetness before pushing it fully within you, forcing a loud moan through your lips.

“It’s okay darling, let go. Give into me. I promise it’ll make you feel so much better,” he hummed against your clit before tenderly sucking on it. He bent his finger within you, hitting something deep that made you cry out. You quickly came, your release squirting around his finger and wetting the couch below.

He kept up his movements as you rode out your high. Once your breath returned to you he pulled away and removed his finger, licking his lips as he wiped your release off his chin.

“Third lesson- good girls always get to cum.” He winked at you with a grin before standing.

He leaned over you, caging you in on the couch before capturing your lips with his. You hummed at the taste of yourself on him, his tongue gliding against yours.

He straightened back up then pulled you up off the couch and guided you to face the other way. He led you so your knees were on the couch, your arms resting against the back of the upholstery. You heard the sound of a zipper before feeling the tip of his hard length slide against your folds. You instinctively arched your back at the feeling, pressing yourself up against him, causing him to groan.

“Such a greedy little brat,” he said, smoothing his hands over the skin of your ass. “You want me to fuck that pretty little cunt, hm?”

“Yes- yes please, Mr. Laufeyson. Please fuck me,” you begged, rubbing yourself on him once more.

With that he thrust into you, holding himself still once he was fully seated within you, giving you a chance to adjust. You’d gasped at the sensation- he was clearly well-endowed and you were thankful he gave you a moment. Willing your muscles to relax you looked back at him before grinding your hips against his.

His eyes were dark with lust, his jaw clenched in a way that made you involuntarily squeeze him as he started to move within you. You were panting as he set a pace, the angle of his thrusts hitting the same spot he’d found quickly before.

You’d turned back around and folded your forearms over the back of the couch, arching yourself against him even more. He growled and picked up his pace, his hand firmly gripping your hip. The angle had you moaning desperately, the feeling of him so deep within you making your fingers and toes numb.

“That’s it darling, take my cock within your needy little cunt. Fuck- I’ve wanted to ruin this tight little pussy for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long,” he rasped out between thrusts and your mind went blank, all you could respond with were desperate moans.

He stopped abruptly and pulled you up before sitting himself on the couch and pulling you over his lap so you were straddling him. He’d unbuttoned his shirt and your mouth went dry at the sight of the musculature under his pale skin. You slid your fingers under the fabric, gripping his firm shoulders as he positioned himself under you.

You moved your hips in a circle over him, enjoying the feel of the very tip of him swirling within you.

“You little tease,” he grinned darkly, running a hand through his hair. “Ride me, darling. Show me what you can do.”

Your cunt clenched at his words and his wicked smirk spread. You took the opportunity to bring yourself down to grind against him, wiping the smug look off his face.

You quickly set a pace as you rode him, his hands on your ass guiding your movements. You were panting as you continued your movements, the angle bringing you close to your finish.

“Are you going to cum, darling?” His voice vibrated through you, and you nodded.

“Yes- fuck, Mr. Laufeyson. You feel so good-“ he continued to guide your movements, moving his head closer to your breast. He brought his mouth around one of your nipples, gently sucking at the nub. You arched into him, moaning at the sensation.

His tongue ran against your skin in his mouth, bringing another moan from you before he sharply bit down on your nipple, pushing you over the edge into another orgasm. You moaned his name over and over as you rode out your high, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder. As you came back to yourself you felt him twitch within you, filling you as he reached his own finish.

You watched him as he came, mesmerised with his blissful expression, his long eyelashes touching defined cheekbones. His eyes fluttered back open and he gave you a smirk- god help you he was fucking gorgeous.

He gave you a chaste kiss before helping you up, the combined fluids from your finish trickling down your thigh. You were happy to see some hit the couch as you moved off him.

You strolled to the bathroom to clean yourself up and throw on a t-shirt and panties, passing a damp cloth to him once you returned. You pulled a cigarette from the pack you had on the kitchen counter, then headed to the balcony as you lit it up.

You were leaning on the balcony, watching the now dark waves when he joined you. You smiled at him, offering him your cigarette. He took a long drag as you leant on the balcony’s edge.

“So,” you trailed off, not sure what to say.

“That was fun,” he exhaled then smiled at you, his expression mischievous.

“Yeah,” you agreed, relief filling your chest. “I’d love to do it again.”

“Of course darling, we have all summer.” He came behind you, pulling you against his chest as he ducked his head so his lips were beside your ear. ”And you have quite a bit to learn.”

End Notes: Want to read more Loki fics of mine? My masterlist is here.

[chilumi-shipper]

Sweet Almost Goodbye

Xiao x Fem!Reader

Tags: Angst to Fluff

Sumary: Xiao had no plans to ever have a family of his own. Finding out that you are pregnant with his baby set him on edge, unsure. He's not ready.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

How are you suppose to tell him?

The news brought shock and surprise to you, it made you a bit excited and nervous.

What would Xiao think?

How will he take the news?

The thought of what his reaction may be formed a pit in your stomach. There you were, going up by the elevator of Wangshu Inn, as the sun was setting.

The closer you get to your destination, the uneasiness grew. What would happen if he lashes out? What would happen if he asked you to leave?

With a sigh, you walked up the stair that would lead to where your lover usually stays.

As you looked upon the view that the balcony provided, you saw that the sun was no longer visible, the stars starting to show up.

"You've arrived." Your heart swell at the voice of your lover, a smile forming on your face. Looking back at him, he eagerly walked up to you and greeted you with a gentle hug.

The first few weeks of your relationship was quite awkward, back then he could not even hold your hand without being as stiff as a board.

"Can I hug you?"

"I don't think that's necessary."

"But... I really want to."

"I am... not familiar with mortal rituals. I would not be the best for those kind of activities."

"Pfft... It's just a hug, Xiao. Plus you do these 'mortal rituals' with people you love. Now come here, silly Yaksha."

And surely enough, your first hug was not very comfortable, but it was a moment you would never forget.

Pulling away from the hug, you sighed heavily. Xiao did of course noticed the change in your attitude.

Where is that bubbly, cheerful, all smiles Y/N that he has grown to love?

Something must be off.

You looked down, how do you start off?

The silence filled the atmosphere with tension. Your hands started to shake.

"You seem like you're not yourself today." Xiao had broken the silence, something he usually doesn't do.

Looking up into his eyes, you grabbed both his hands in yours. "There's this very important thing that I need to tell you." Your grip on him tightened, hoping for him not to disappear.

His face showed confusion and somewhat worry, the look on your face told him that the matter was serious.

"You know how lovers would slowly grow? How they would be faced with many things and challenges in life together?" You started, not knowing exactly what to say. Through his confusion, he nodded.

"Well.... we may be going through one of those things." You whispered in a hushed tone. He didn't get it.

Was something wrong?

Has something happened that would affect your relationship?

"Xiao..." You silently called out his name.

"I'm... well..." You felt his hand squeeze yours, silently telling you to just say it.

"I'm pregnant."

He let go of your hands immediately, and your heart ached at his action.

Oh no...

He let out a chuckle. Slightly backing away, looking at you with an expression that had your eyes swelling with unshed tears.

"S-surely this has to be a joke." Xiao said in a quiet voice.

'What was that supposed to mean?' His words sent needles to your heart.

"We're gonna have a baby, Xiao." You said stepping closer to him, but he raised his hand, telling you to stop.

You held your hands to your chest, your heart pounding so fast. "It means that our love has blossomed."

"No." Xiao turned his back on you. "I didn't.... I didn't want this."

"X-xiao?" You stuttered, he surely didn't mean that right? He loves you, you loves him. Sure it wasn't expected, but you promised yourself to welcome your baby with open arms, teach them, show them the good in the world, love them with all your heart.

"I never wanted to start a family." He looked back at you, frustration in his eyes. "I thought that it would just be you and me. I didn't want a... a burden!" His words shocked you, a mix of emotion swirled inside you, pain, frustration, dissapointment.... anger.

How dare he say that about your baby?!

"Xiao, this is your child your talking about!" Tears started to fall from your eyes, staining your cheeks. "Why would you say that?!"

No, it doesn't matter how much you love him, he doesn't get to say those things about your baby. You believed that your baby is special, and you're not going to stand for the bastard you love to tell you that they are nothing but a burden.

"How could you?!" You stomped closer to him, your hands balled into a fist. "Here I thought that you are so amazing. That you're not the murderer that you claimed yourself to be."

You let put a sob.

"But no!"

You punched his chest.

"You don't deserve to be loved!"

Punch.

"You don't deserve to be happy!"

Punch

"You don't deserve a family that will love you."

You throw a weak puch at his chest, letting more of your tears fall as you sobbed.

He held you wrists pushing you back a bit to look up at him with your glossy eyes. What hurt even more is that he seemed unfazed, unaffected.

"I don't need you to tell me what I don't deserve. You're right, I don't deserve those things." He calmly said, letting go of your wrists. "And I... would feel at ease if you just leave." Before you could even respond, he vanished, leaving you to break down onto the floor, covering your mouth to silence your sobs.

He left you with tears and a broken heart.

2 Months Later

Your mother has been very helpful in taking care of you and your baby. Giving you tips and advice for a healthy pregnancy. You now stayed your parents' house in Qingce Village, a more quieter place than the Harbour.

You had told her of what happened between you and your 'previous lover' two months ago, crying into her arms as she saw you on your heartbroken state. Your father was not at all happy with Xiao's wrong doings towards you.

But you reassured your parents that it no longer matters, what matters now is your baby being well taken care of. And with that, you must take care of yourself as well. So no thinking about that Adeptus bastard.

In Wangshu Inn however, Xiao has felt that your departure has left a hole in his heart, everyday, every night alone on the balcony of the Inn, the place that you two once shared as a place to openly be together and express your love towards each other.

He would sometimes look at the guests of the Inn at the ground floor. He would see families spending time together, all smiles and happiness. Is that what it's like to have a family?

Sure, family comes with it's problems and such. But... it's family, people that will be your home and happiness.

Verr Goldet has noticed that you no longer go to the Inn and the Adeptus has grown more melancholic than usual. Something was definitely wrong between that two of you, she would think.

Xiao would look at the view provided by the balcony. He admits that he was looking for you from there, maybe you would come back to him. But he caught no sight of you.

Every time he would go out, he told himself that its to "scare off evil and cleanse the land", but he just used that as an excuse to look for you.

He found you, of course, since you aren't really hiding from him. But, even then, what would he say? Of course he should apologize, but how? He doesn't know any of that stuff.

But he has to make a decision....

"Alright, Y/N. Why don't you have a little rest while your father and I go to the village square?" You just nodded as they exit the house. Some alone time would be nice.

You were standing in front of a full body mirror in your room, shirt rolled up to show your baby bump. You were thinking about names for your baby just earlier. Even though it's gonna be a few months till they're ready, you just find naming them makes you smile.

"How about, if your a girl, I'll name you... Crystal? Or maybe Rose? Or Amethyst!" You laughed a little, seemingly having a conversation with your unborn baby. " But if your a boy... Hmmm...." You caressed your baby bump.

"I haven't thought about anything yet, but I'll tell you when I do, baby." You whispered with a smile.

Then, suddenly a green and black smoke appeared and revealed a person that made your smile drop.

"Y/N" Xiao quietly called out your name, looking at your eyes through the mirror. Sighing, you pulled down your shirt and turned back to face him.

He looked down at your stomach, his heart swelling at imagining that a baby is inside you, your and his baby is inside you.

"Didn't think I'd see you again." You let out a bitter laugh, making the man in front of you wince a little. "What are you doing here?" You asked with a rather harsh tone.

"I mean no harm." He started looking at you with a sense of nervousness within him, your unexpressive gaze made him feel crushed.

"I just want to apologize. And see how you and our baby are doing." He seemed to be hesitant in reaching out to hold you. But you, you were seething, did he just say 'our'?

He acted so childish, so cold and now he came back to apologize and immediately think that all will be fixed.

"Y/N..." You were pulled out of your thoughts by his call, you looked back at him with a glare. "I... love you. So so much." He stepped closer but this time, you raised your hand up and stopped him. "I wasn't ready, I was scared of what's gonna happen." Xiao added.

"I was scared too." Your eyes started to become glossy. "But I thought that you would be there." You looked up to him with your teary eyes, showing him your vulnerability once again. "I was wrong." You shook you head, his features softened and you notice the tears start to form in his eyes as well. "I shouldn't have expected too much. It's for the better we split up rather than stay in a relationship that will no longer contain love."

"If you're here for closure, Xiao. I can assure you that me and my baby will be just fine." You smiled despite the tear that managed to fall out of your eye.

He shook his head, quickly taking a hold of your hands and kneeling onto the floor. "Xiao, what are yo-"

"Please..." He brought your hands to his lips kissing them gently, you felt a few of his tears fall onto your hands. "Please forgive me. I'm truly sorry, my love." He was full on crying. You tried to take your hand back, but he didn't let you.

Still, the thought of you wanting to pull away from him made his heart ache. He didn't wanna let go of your hands. "I'm sorry about everything I said about our baby. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept repeating over and over. "I'm so stupid! I can just never treasure things that are important to me!" He felt frustrated of himself.

"Xiao, stop!" You demanded, pulling him back up to his feet. Once he looked at you, your heart clenched at the sight of his tear covered face, his hair messier than usual, his eyes held pain and regret.

"W-what exactly do you want?" You stuttered, rubbing your thumb along his knuckles. "D-do you want me to just forgive you... and then you'd walk away?"

He shook his head. "I-i want you." He whispered, coming closer, he hugged you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"I want our baby." He pulled away, kissing you forehead.

"I want my happiness." Then his kissed your nose.

"I want my family, my everything." He then kissed your lips, the feeling of his soft lips on yours felt refreshing, something you didn't know you missed due to all the other emotions inside you. You both pulled away to catch your breath.

"Please, let me have my family."

"Oh, Xiao..." You caressed his cheek, feeling the wet tears that had fallen from his amber eyes. "We're here, we're your family." You both looked down at your baby bump, both of you smilling.

One Hour Later

As you and Xiao cuddled on the couch together and silently whispered sweet words to one another, the door opened, your parents walking in and were shocked to see the Adeptus and you snuggling.

"Aha! I see that you're the one who broke my babygirl's heart!" Your father exclaimed, much to your surprise.

"Xiao was it. Now I don't care if you two already made up. I'm still gonna talk to you about how to properly treat my baby." You laughed when Xiao let go of you and sat up straight.

You were surprised that he didn't pull the 'no respect for the Adepti' card.

"Papaaaaa." You whined as your father led Xiao into the kitchen to talk.

Your mother sat beside you and looked at your face. "I see that you two have been crying." She caressed your cheek.

"I'm just really happy right now."

[light-yaers]

Fools in the Darkness: Chapter One

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: I caved. I am a wildly stupid individual who has no control over her actions. I know I might come to regret posting this so fast and thus forcing myself into my third ongoing x reader fic, but I also just generally don’t care. I’m still working on No Saints and Sweet Esacpe, just as a slower pace due to my mental health, but this baby here floated out of me like melted butter. I’ll be alternating between uploading this fic and my currently ongoing others! I just had to get this shit out of my system about Shadow and Bone, fr. 

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 3.4k

Chapter One

Ketterdam covered up your secrets perfectly. It’d only been a matter of weeks since you’d fled there, after travelling the exhausting journey across East Ravka until the Fold had stood before you; brooding, dangerous, a death-wish just to look at, let alone enter it.

Maybe you had to thank him for one thing, General Kirigan, because without him—

You never would have crossed the Fold on your own.

Maybe Ketterdam was made for a person such as yourself. Dark, danger around every corner, full to the brim with power-hungry men and women trapped behind silks. You’d never warmed to anyone yet, but that wasn’t a surprise—it was easy to hate people in the Barrel, but even easier to take their kruge and send them sailing upon the True Sea without another glance.

Kerch was a merchant port, stuffed with expensive clubs and those with no money troubles, armed and ready to open their pockets if they so wished. There were two sides of the docks—Fifth Harbour; the lavishly bright sector for the rich and wealthy—and the Barrel; a breeding ground for crime, killings and losing all of your kruge in one night.

You’d made acquaintances with the Barrel rats from the very beginning, hearing stories about the destruction they caused. You’d much rather not be on the side of the wealth, but the side of fear.

“I found her wandering the harbour, Kaz,” A petite lady in dark clothes spoke to her boss. She’d dragged you from the bustling harbour, flying you through the dark streets of Ketterdam. You tried to hear her footsteps across the cobblestones, but she left no footprints, like a Wraith in the night.

Kaz approached his desk then, stepping into the small lamp light of his office in the Slat. Kaz Brekker was a man that no one wanted to cross. With his clenched jaw and unforgiving stares, the Bastard of the Barrel was cut-throat in every sense of the description.

“She’s a rat, Inej. Not our responsibility—,”

“Do you see the clothes she’s wearing?” Inej cut over Kaz, stepping towards him abruptly. He stayed in place, looking at his Wraith in the eyes, unwaveringly. He regarded her for a moment, taking all of her in, before turning back to you.

His eyes skimmed you up and down, traversing the darkened and muddied fabrics on your body.

“A Kefta,” He whispered it, his eyes widening. “It doesn’t look like the usual Second Army attire,” He added. You perked up, trying to keep your expression as blunt as possible. After your journey, it wasn’t hard not to show anything—you’d been forced to endure a quiet and agonising journey for a month, while trying to stay in the shadows at the same time.

“Because it’s not,” You spoke up, for the first time since entering Brekker’s office. Kaz turned his attention to your face, stepping forward menacingly. His crow-headed cane slammed the wooden floorboards threateningly, but you weren’t scared—

You’d crossed the fucking Fold on your own. Nothing scared you anymore.

“Who are you?” He questioned, trying to keep his voice steady. Men like Kaz tried not to show off what they felt either, but the curiosity in his tone was undeniable. You cleared your throat.

“How much time have you got?”

Fjerda, 1 Year Ago

It was a risk to take, that was for sure. But choosing whether to go through the Fold or around it was a no brainer. Evidently, it had paid off so far, as you and your sister travelled through the barren coldness of Fjerda, headed for the Ravkan border.

“How much farther?” Your sister chided. She was older than you by a year, but on this mission, you’d taken charge. You shuffled into your pack, pulling out a tattered map and a compass. You set the point to North, calculating the miles you had left to trudge to safety.

Your sister wasn’t Grisha, no—you were. A Squaller; untrained, unenthusiastic about your power and utterly afraid of the Druskelle. But you’d had no choice in getting you and your sister safely around the Fold. There was no other way to go from where you’d first found asylum in Novyi Zem; going through Fjerda was the safest route to the Ravkan army.

You smiled at the map. “Five miles. Then we’ll be in Ravka,” An exhausted but relief filled scoff fell from your lips. You locked eyes with your sister, before the two of you embraced tightly. “We’ll be safe soon,” You whispered in her ear, enjoying the small warmth you got from her bare cheek pressing against your jaw.

“You’ll be safe soon,” She replied, bringing a hand to rest on the back of your neck. She pulled away then, as the tears began to well in her crystalline eyes. “You put yourself in this danger to keep me safe. I’m the older sister—I should be keeping you safe,”

“It was this, or through the Fold,” You spoke, furrowing your brows at her. “I’d rather take on twenty druskelle than step foot in that heaping mound of darkness,” Laughter trickled from both sisters, floating over the snow-covered trees and giving you hope.

You both continued forward tirelessly, mercilessly, trudging through inches of untouched snow and praying to whichever god out there who was listening. You prayed for your sister’s safety, for a safe life for her in the First Army. You prayed that you could stay with her—

A Squaller you were, yes, but over your dead body would you be taken to the Little Palace. You knew that’s where Grisha were trained for the King, you knew it was different. Your abilities didn’t define you; Saints, you barely even used them.

They were unpredictable. And you were scared of hurting those around you without meaning to. Ever since an incident when you were younger, you’d almost been afraid of your own power. You kept it hidden from those who you didn’t know closely.

Those who knew you were Grisha in Novyi Zem called you zowa—blessed, in Zemeni. It also meant Grisha, so you didn’t know if they were simply calling you what you were, or if they were commenting upon how strong your Squaller abilities were.

You’d never even met another Sqauller. You had nothing to compare yourself off of.

With a mile until you hit the Ravkan border, you stopped abruptly. Plumes of smoke rose high above the skies, coming from somewhere further on before you. You stuck your hand out, halting your sister from walking any further.

You were silent, listening for any signs of breakings twigs, compacted snow, or other indications of druskelle being near.

“Saints, you look like a fentomen,” Your sister scoffed beside you.

“Quiet,” You hit back with.

“What is it?” She spoke again, quieter this time, but not by much.

“Quiet,” You hissed.

You both waited another few minutes, silently standing like statues in the garden of the Grand Palace. You let out shaky breaths as you eventually straightened yourself once more, clutching onto your sister’s forearm for dear life.

“It’s okay. We just need to be wary,” You whispered. She nodded in response.

You both set off once more through countless trees and untouched snow. But you didn’t get far—until two druskelle spotted you. Neither of you could speak Fjerdan, and you were a fucking Grisha. This couldn’t have been any worse, when you were so close to being free.

“Hje marden,” One of them spoke. They were both tall, with broad shoulders and the white hair and blue eyes of Fjerda. Neither had beards—they were in training to being full druskelle. The trainees were always worse than their commanders, you thought. They would do anything to prove themselves to their superiors.

You tried not to shake as they circled you and your sister.

“I’m sorry, we don’t speak Fjerdan,” You said honestly. The druskelle immediately changed. Their hands rested upon their guns, ready to fire if need be. You raised your hands to the sky as your expression dropped. “Please! Please, we are just travellers—uh—we are perjenger—,”

“Perjenger? Travellers? To where?” The second druskelle spat.

You glanced at your sister quickly, knowing that if you answered Ravka, you’d both be shot immediately. Ravka was at war with Fjerda—Grisha were at war with Druskelle.

“Kerch,” You said strongly. “We have to go through Ravka and Shu Han. We can’t cross the Fold,”

For a moment, you thought it had worked. The druskelle looked at each other gruffly, muttering some words in Fjerdan. You clutched onto your sister’s arm tightly, not planning on letting her go now until you’d both crossed the border.

“Wait here,” One of the men said, as he began trudging back through the snow. He disappeared in the white landscape, leaving you with one druskelle.

You stayed quiet, feeling the warmth of your sister next to you. You glanced at her then, traversing your gaze over her side profile. Her nose, which was the same as yours; her eyes, brighter and more beautiful than your own, mimicking your mother; her hair, lighter and softer than yours. She was shorter than you, smaller than you, getting a lot of genetics from your mother, while you took from your father greatly. His height, his broad shoulders, his darker hair.

But she was your only family left, your only love and focus and everything.

And you were less than a mile from getting her to safety. You were less than a mile from being free of this Saint forsaken country, full of killers and fascists and men who only cared about power.

It was one druskelle against a Squaller. One against one. You could do that. You could beat him.

That’s what made you push your sister back, falling into the snow slowly as you brought your hands together. The druskelle yelled as he saw your movements, trying to aim his gun at you between your eyes, but it was too late—

In a flash, you summoned a storm that whipped him off of his feet. It circled him, gliding him backwards through the trees as you kept pushing and pushing, ignoring the raging winds as they whipped your hair from your face and agitated the snow on the trees.

“Come on!” You yelled behind you, as your sister scrambled up from the floor to stand beside you. She held your arm sturdily, watching fearfully as the druskelle struggled against the rapid winds that you wielded.

You thought that was it—you could both run with the time you’d bought—but that’s when the entire druskelle camp rocketed through the tree line. They yelled and boomed as they came to aid their brother, pushing back against the furious winds you were trying desperately to wield.

“Drüsje!” The commander yelled, storming through the group as he set up the largest of their guns—a machine gun, aimed and ready fire. You gasped, and for a second the winds wavered—they wavered long enough for the machine gun round to penetrate the small snow snuffed tornado that you’d created—

Until those bullets trickled over the blanketed ground, moving steadily closer and closer—

Until one landed straight through the heart of your sister.

All you remembered was that time slowed, then, as you saw the bullet exit her shoulder blade. She fell to the floor, unclasping her hands from your forearm and collapsing into a shocked heap on the floor. You remembered the way her blood dyed the snow. You remembered the way her eyes stayed open—

And then you remembered screaming.

It was a blur, as you tensed all of your limbs to the point where they yelled beneath your skin. You mustered all of your strength into this one storm; one that was merciless and unforgiving, circling all the druskelle in the clearing around you. You knew that soon all of the air would fade from within the eye of the storm that whipped devilishly around them.

You knew that soon they’d all begin to run out of oxygen and pass out, or better yet—maybe their hearts would stop. Cease to beat, drained of any energy to fire more rounds of bullets or kill Grisha for no fucking reason.

The storm was the largest you’d ever summoned, engulfing the entire druskelle camp and uprooting trees from their homes in the cold, hard Fjerdan ground. You saw them get sucked into your whirlwind, flying high, high, high until they eventually slipped out of the storms’ gusts; then they fell back down to earth, landing aggressively and dangerously on the ground below and being spat out at any random location.

You didn’t stop the storm, not even when you saw a tree fall atop a druskelle, crushing him where he’d stood moments before. The commander was the last one standing, rising above his suffocating men to look at you, face on, menacingly.

“Drüsje like you deserve to lose that which you love,” He boomed, using his remaining energy to cast you to Hell.

You wasted no time when you adjusted your stance, focusing the brunt force of the storm onto him—you decreased the eye of the storm until it flowed over him, and only him, grunting all of your strength into the circling winds that now surrounded him utterly and completely.

You collapsed at the same time that the commander did, falling into inches of snow and crawling exhaustedly to your sister. She was motionless, cold, her lips turning blue by the second as her blood continued to flow on Fjerdan soil. Dead. Gone.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks without any indication of stopping, but you couldn’t sob. It was impossible when you were already holding your breath, too afraid that if you were to breathe, only screams would pour from your coarse lungs.

The clearing was deserted, now, as druskelle bodies laid motionless on the snow-covered ground, their camp up ahead completely destroyed. Broken branches, twigs, tree trunks were dotted around, acting as just another indication of the destruction that you were truly capable of. Saints, you wanted to know if you were a normal Grisha, a normal Squaller, since those old women on Novyi Zem had looked at you like a weapon from the first day you could summon and control hurricanes and tornados at will.

Your fingers found your sister’s forehead then, swiping the hair off of her face. You cupped her cheek, laying your other hand upon her stomach. “Vaarwell,” You whispered shakily. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—,”

“Who’s there?” A voice spoke up from just beyond the clearing. You got up from the floor immediately, feeling a strange sense of power surrounding you. You waited silently, until First Army soldiers made their way to the clearing. A few stopped and checked the pulses of the druskelle upon the floor, before continuing forward until you were finally spotted.

A young man approached you slowly, holding his gun tightly, draped against his shoulder. “Was this... you?” He asked, looking you in the eye. His gaze dropped to the ground by your feet, seeing the blood-stained snow where your sister lay dead, before he looked back up to you.

He was joined by the rest of his crew. They slowly approached you, almost as if they were trapping you within a circle of their bodies. You stepped back once then, keeping your chin high and proud. The young man at the front was trying everything to keep you calm, you could see it in his eyes, but what he didn’t know was that you were seething—

And nothing would stop that.

Without your sister, you’d be taken to the Little Palace. Without knowing she was safe in the First Army, nothing would get you through the rest of your life—

You were dead. Inside and out. Nothing would change that.

Without a word, you brought your hands together, far too quickly for any of the soldiers to raise their weapons in defence. You ignored their begs and pleads as you circled them within in your storm, slowly suffocating the air out of their lungs and seeing the way their eyes bulged uncomfortably in their skulls.

“General!” The young man shouted, clutching at his throat as he tried desperately to suck air into his lungs. His voice echoed throughout the clearing, travelling through the trees slowly, until an eery type of silence settled into the air around you.

That’s when he arrived—his horse just as black at the Kefta on his frame, the stubble on his chin and the irises of his eyes. He dismounted, ignoring the cries from the soldiers within your raging storm as he began to approach you, step by step by step, crunching through the snow broodingly.

You knew who this man was; General Kirigan of the Second Army.

The Darkling.

He got ever closer, walking around the circular storm. The gap was beginning to bridge, and the more it did, the more you faltered. He took one more step, and you lost it.

“Stop!” You yelled. “Don’t come any closer, Darkling,” He stopped on command, keeping his arms by his sides, but the corners of his mouth upturned into a smile. “You find me amusing?” You spat.

“By the looks of this,” He gestured to the druskelle. “You were trying to get to Ravka. We’re here to help, yet you’re trying to suffocate my men,” You ignored his words, but you found your energy waning slightly—or maybe your heart was finally giving in. It didn’t really want to hurt anyone else, didn’t want to cause more damage than was already on your hands. “You’re a Squaller?” Kirigan asked, and that surprised you.

“Isn’t this how all Squaller’s are?” You asked in reply. Kirigin raised a brow at you.

“Not usually,” He said honestly. “You’ve never met another Grisha before?”

“I know what you’re doing,” You furrowed your brows at him. “You’re trying to distract me, to make me let my guard down and go with you willingly. I’d rather die than work for the King at the Little Palace,” Your breaths were getting more laborious the longer you held on to the storm. You were losing energy rapidly.

“Interesting,” The Darkling muttered.

There were a few moments then, where he was simply staring at you. Regarding you, analysing you, or perhaps— waiting for you to lose all of your energy. You were in a somewhat sticky situation, losing a grasp on your power with every passing second and feeling the intense gaze of Kirigan to your left.

“Let go,” He spoke softly. “I can see you’re tired, you don’t truly want to kill these men,”

“You don’t know anything about me,” You forced your eyelids to stay open as a wave of exhaustion flowed through you.

“And you know me?” He chided. You moved your gaze to him then, as your limbs finally lost momentum. Your hands dropped to your sides, your storm dissipating into the cold air at the Fjerdan border. Soldiers sucked in breaths noisily, gaining back their vision.

You stumbled back once, forcing yourself to stay standing despite the immense urge to pass the fuck out. Kirigan stayed still the entire time, a softness on his jaw that you hadn’t been expecting.

“Everyone knows you,” You mumbled. “I never wanted to meet you, though,”

Your heart jolted then, when the General let out a scoff. You forced yourself to move. Step by step through disturbed snow, until you were back where your sister lay on the floor. You collapsed to your knees unwillingly, as your body threatened to blackout at any moment.

You laid a shaky hand on her collarbone, curling your fingers up to her jaw. Kirigan moved slowly in your peripheral, turning towards you but staying at the distance he’d always been.

“Don’t take me to Os Alta,” You muttered. “Please, don’t take me,” You looked up at the General with pleading eyes.

“Why?” Kirigan whispered with furrowed brows, as if he was trying to work out why on earth you didn’t want a life within the royal Ravkan walls, living in luxury, fighting with other Grisha and honing your power.

Your vision began to blur then, as black spots dotted the white snow that surrounded you.

You never answered the General, your body gave up before you could—

And all you saw was black.

Tag list of those who were interested from my earlier post (tell me if you want off/on the list): @notawritergettingtherethough @rbg1993 @mayallyourbaconburn @luminous-99 

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest - Thorns

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: After dating the notable mobster Steve Rogers for a couple months you think you’ve got him figured out. An altercation in an alley leaves you questioning whether or not that’s true. 

W/C: 1995

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff, swearing

A/N: Holy smokes! I am completely overwhelmed by the love that the first part to this story has received. Obviously, I couldn’t help myself so I wrote a part 2 also as an entry for @stargazingfangirl18 ‘s 5k soft dark challenge! Using the Mob!Au and the dialogue prompt “Oh, Honey, you weren’t supposed to see that”.

If you want you can check out part one here and my other mob fic here! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

______________________________ 6pm was fast approaching as you began to close up shop for the day. Steve was here to pick you up for dinner and much to your embarrassment walked in on you having a very difficult conversation argument with a very difficult customer over pricing and promotion. Having run your small business on your own for years you knew how to hold your own but you completely froze when you saw Steve enter the shop out of the corner of your eye. 

“I- listen Mr. Andersen, I appreciate all the business that your venues have given me but I can’t afford a raise in advertising prices right now. I’ve been reliable and trustworthy and I’ve always treated your venues with respect. I’ve never been an issue for you, please don’t raise the rate. Wedding season is coming up and I need the exposure.” 

You tried to bargain with him quietly, hoping the music overhead would prevent Steve from hearing but it was a low volume and a small shop. You’ve only been dating for a couple months. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, especially not at work. 

Mr. Andersen exhaled sharply. You could tell he was annoyed at you for the pushback. “Look, I’m sorry but we can’t be making exceptions every time a business owner comes groveling.” 

Tears stung your eyes, you really did generate a lot of business through Andersen’s venues. They listed you as one of their recommended vendors to their clients, it’s been huge for you. Knowing that Steve was there made this even worse. “If I’d have known you were going to cry like this I would’ve just done it over email I mean really-”

“That’s enough.” Steve cut him off before he could humiliate you any further. He sent a quick text and shoved his phone back in his pocket before pulling himself to his gull height and squaring his shoulders. “You’ve done enough, now get out.”

A scoff from Andersen and a harsh glare directed towards you and he was on his way out of the building. Steve’s phone vibrated but he didn’t check it. Instead he walked over to you and extended his arm to rub your back. 

“Are you okay? That guy was a total fucking prick to you, you don’t deserve that.” Steve consoled you. He seemed calmer than you expected for having just witnessed something like that. You’ve seen him agitated but never upset. Maybe he was restraining himself for you but it didn’t matter, you appreciate him being there for you. 

“I’m fine, I just need to finish closing up shop and we can get to dinner. Just give me a minute” you said as you began to sweep up. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m double parked so I’m gonna go to the car and try to find a space.” You nodded as hummed along to the music. 

____________________________

As Steve left the shop he pulled his phone out and checked his text from Thor ‘we got him’. When Steve heard that man talk to you like that he knew you didn’t want him to threaten Andersen and make the situation worse. You were already on the verge of tears so he decided to ask one of his men to hold Andersen out back where he could have a few words with him. 

Stepping around the corner into the alley behind your shop he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He needed to be quick so you wouldn’t find out. He didn’t want to upset you further, he just wanted this guy to know that you can’t treat his girl like that. And maybe he could be talked into giving her the advertising for free.

“So you think you can talk to my girl like that huh?” He questioned. Andersen looked like Thor had already punched him once in the process of restraining him. Thor’s hold on Andersen’s arms tightened. 

Andersen was scared, but not scared enough to Steve’s liking. Before Andersen had the opportunity to answer Steve cocked his fist back and launched it directly to Andersen’s jaw. “Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We’re expanding and we need the money so I have to raise-”

Before the excuse could be finished Steve hit him again. “Stop! Please!” Andersen begged.

Steve chuckled. “No I don’t think I will. I can’t just let people go every time they grovel to me. They’d never learn.” Another punch landed. 

“You’re not gonna raise your prices for her. In fact, you’re gonna call her up in a couple days and apologize by offering her advertising free of charge for all of your venues. Do you understand?” Steve asked coolly. 

Andersen coughed up some blood. “I- I can offer her half price but I can’t just waive the cost like that!”

“Not good enough.” Steve punched him even harder, Andersen was nearly knocked out. Steve thought about the tears that slipped from his girl’s eye and couldn’t stop himself. He struck Andersen one more time with a growl and his head hung limp between his shoulders. Just then he heard the sound of shattering glass behind him and froze, hand still in a fist. 

_____________________________________

Finally done with most of your tasks all you had to do was take out the garbage and empty the vase of leftover stems from bouquets into the dumpster. You opened the back door just in time to see Steve land a brutal punch to Mr. Andersen’s cheekbone. Mr. Andersen’s head fell and it was clear he had been knocked out cold. 

You hadn’t even realized you’d dropped the vase until you felt the shards fall around your feet. You couldn’t look away when Steve looked up at you with wild eyes, you’d never seen him so angry. You felt the way you did the day you met him. Nervous and frozen in place.

His face instantly fell and through his heavy breathing said “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” He was trying to relax his features as he approached you but you could only take steps back and into the shop like a scared animal being cornered. 

Your heart was hammering in your chest and you couldn’t tell if you were more angry or scared. You held your hands out in front of you and stammered “I’d better.. I need to lock up shop I’ll um, I’ll go”. “Sweetheart wait!” Too late. You shut the back door and locked it behind you. 

You went to your back office and sat down, not even sure where to go from here with this. You two had talked about his work a bit, it wasn’t like it could be avoided forever, you just didn’t think he’d bring it into yours. You weren’t scared of Steve doing something like that to you, you were scared of that look in his eyes. His capability of doing something like that with little thought.

Oh, God, what does this mean for the shop? Mr. Andersen will have you blacklisted. He’ll tell every wedding planner in Brooklyn. Now your heart was hammering for a whole other set of reasons. Too busy spiraling as you thought about it all you didn’t hear the bell of the front door ring. 

A knock on your open office door pulled you out of it and you looked up to find Steve. He wore what looked like a truly regretful expression on his face. You fought the urge to yell at him. You’re an adult, you’re going to talk about this like adults. Let him say his piece. 

He had straightened up, his hands were clean and his jacket was back on. He gave a heavy sigh. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry you had to see that side of me, but I want you to know I would never ever do anything like that to you or anyone close to you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s punching one of my main sources of income?” You snapped. You appreciated the apology but you were getting too worked up in anger thinking about the future of the shop.

He was a little miffed at the outburst and became defensive. “That man disrespected you, disrespected your work. No one talks like that to my girl. That’s how we settle things in my world!” 

“Well you’re not in your mob world right now you’re in mine! And things don’t get handled like that! Do you have any idea the toll that could take on my business? He’s gonna have me blacklisted by the end of the day if he wakes up.” The last words came out a bit broken as you felt more tears build. You were more worried about the business than anything. 

Steve walked around the desk to console you just like he had not twenty minutes ago. He gently put a hand on your forearm. “You’re right. It’s not my world, it wasn’t my call to make and I had no right to react like that. I didn’t even think about that. The way he was talking to you, I just.. I got so mad. You work so hard and you don’t deserve that. Sometimes I forget there’s more than one way to handle things.”

Okay, that went better than expected. This is what made Steve so interesting to you. Steve was funny and sweet and charming as hell, but beyond all that there was this tender heart. He was dangerous but he was also fiercely loyal. He was more than a mobster and he was better than the brute force he used. It’s why you were able to accept that part of him, because it wasn’t his entire life, it didn’t consume him.

“Thank you for saying that,” You said quietly. You looked up to him and could tell that he really did feel bad. “I accept your apology and I appreciate it. But you have to make things right with Mr. Andersen. I’ll pay the new rate but you have to apologize before it’s too late.”

_________________________

Steve was beginning to harbor resentment towards himself for fucking this up for you. Andersen just made him see red, he has such a hard time shutting that part of himself down. You work so hard and care so much there’s just no way he could let that stand. He just hoped to work through it and move on. He really didn’t wanna screw it up.

Steve was much more at ease knowing you accepted his apology. “I won’t like it but I can do that. It’s only fair. Can I make it up to you over dinner? We’ll make a quick stop to the hospital to set things straight with Andersen.” When you shut the door in his face in the alley he had Thor take him to the hospital. He’d call another town car to get home. 

He’ll apologize to Andersen and pay the hospital bill, but you’re not paying the increased rate. No way. Steve will pay him off enough that he won’t be telling anyone about the altercation, either. Win-win in his eyes.

You leaned your head against his shoulder in slight exhaustion and nodded. “Can we forget the reservation? I really want breakfast food right now.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Of course sweetheart, you wanna get takeout and go back to mine?” He felt you nod. “Yes, please”. 

“Let me just order a car and we’ll be on our way. I’m sorry again, sweetheart, I promise I’m gonna make it right even if that guy’s a douche.” You laughed a little bit and wiped the few tears that stayed in your eyes.

“So.... your girl, huh? Is that like some mob slang term I don’t know about? Are we official?”

A smile graced his lips. “I’d like to be, if you would.” 

You smiled back at him. “I might be persuaded with waffles.” 

[pvvnsies]

a star’s deception | prologue (p. pevensie)

summary: when peter is confronted with an undesirable proposal, his best friend seren jumps in to save the day. well, sort of. she announces to a court of suitors that her and the king have been dating and are eagerly awaiting marriage. however, this is only a temporary fix to a much larger problem and the two friends must divide real feelings from fake in time for the royal wedding of the millennium.

chapter: 00 - prologue

pairing: peter pevensie x huntress!oc

warnings: abuse, murder, blood, violence, swearing

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

a/n: hello :) welcome to my new series ‘a star’s deception’. i am super excited for this bc i’m a very big fake dating enjoyer. before u start reading i just want to say that i’m looking for a small handful of beta readers for this story. this prologue took me about two weeks to draft and perfect, and unfortunately I just don’t have the time to go over these with as much attention to detail as i would like. so if you’re interesting in offering feedback/slight editing help message me and we can discuss further details. ANYWAY thank u so much and enjoy the prologue :))) p.s. i suck at writing synopses. helpppp

         Castor turns to look at me, he’s suspicious but I know the look in his eye. It’s the kind of look the promise of safety can give you after it only being a dream for so long. The look of hope.

I flinch as my bedroom door opens, every muscle turning to stone as I clench my fist over the two pills. However, it’s Castor who enters and not my father, a swirl of blue and purple blooming across his cheek. The question forms on my lips, but the words die in my throat as I already know the answer. At least my father has some sort of consistency in his life.

         Castor limps over to my bed, his dark eyes are distant, the faded pink scar under his lip curling with his frown. Anger burns in my chest as he lowers himself onto the end of my bed, groaning softly with the effort. Silence stretches between us as I contemplate comforting him but I eventually decide against it. Somehow, it only angers him more. 

         Instead, I open my palm to reveal the sleeping pills I’d stolen from my friend’s bathroom cabinet earlier today. Castor stares at them incredulously, an unfamiliar light igniting across his face.

         “Are they…” Castor’s voice trails off, glancing at my closed bedroom door. “Are those really sleeping pills?”

         I nod, not bothering to fight the excitement out of my voice, “The bottle recommended one but I took two just to be sure.”

         “Seren,” He exhales, scooping the pills into his own hand. “Seren, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I say, knowing that getting the pills is the easy part of this escape.

Castor nods, understanding. “Get the bags ready.”

         “Be careful,” I warn, unsure if the nausea in my stomach is from anxiety or excitement.

         Castor slips back out into the hallway just as the house begins to fill up with the all too familiar stench of cigar smoke. I scramble from my bed and drag my desk chair over to my wardrobe. The chair rocks as I climb onto it, and I reach into the top shelf of my wardrobe, pulling out the two duffle bags Castor had made me pack a few months ago. The bruise on my ribs screams with the effort of dropping the first heavy bag to the floor, but I’m too elated to care.

         I can’t help but fantasize about what is to come, about the possibility of a brighter future. If all goes accordingly, we’ll be on a train to France, far from our wasted life here in London. Soon, our wounds will heal and the threat of new ones will no longer be a worry. Castor would turn eighteen next week, go to university in the fall, live the life he deserves. I’ll go to a new school, and nobody will have to question why I’m wearing our winter blouse in the blazing summer’s heat.

         “What the hell are you doing, boy?”

         My heart stops. The fantasy I have created fades into a dark abyss as I spill out into the hallway. I step over a few dirty clothes and an empty Chinese food container as I enter the kitchen, where our father has found Castor crushing up the sleeping pills. Castor’s gaze flits over my father’s shoulder to me, reminding me of how much I hate seeing him scared.

         “I’m getting you a drink like you asked,” Castor defends weakly, putting the knife down next to the bottle of whiskey.

         My father takes Castor by the arm and slams him against the fridge, causing an unopened bottle of Brandy to fall and smash into pieces. A dark liquid pools around Castor’s feet, a mixture of alcohol and blood. The scene blurs as tears stain my cheeks and shaking palms hovering over my mouth. “Who do you take me for? Huh? Huh?!”

         “I take you for nothing,” Castor spits. “You’re nothing but a shitty dad and a sad, old drunk whose wife fucking left him.”

         I don’t flinch the way I used to when the first punch lands with a crack on Castor’s nose, nor do I cower as a velvety liquid splutters down his chin and stains his white button down . Rather, I step over the mess of Brandy and shards of glass and tear my father away from Castor before he can go in for seconds. His eyes are glazed over, but are alight with a certain rage I don’t recognise. He is drunker than I expected.

         “You little bitch, how dare you?” He fumes, gripping my shoulders firmly. 

         His fist is hard and cruel against my stomach and his surprising strength sends me to my knees, gasping for air. I brace myself for another hit, tightening the msucles in my stomach just as Castor had taught me. However, the pain never reaches me. Reluctantly, I open my eyes to see him on the floor, clutching his stomach. 

Castor stands above him, a tremor to his hand as he drops a bloody knife to the floor. My father slumps against the kitchen cabinet, eyes wide and mouth agape. His breath comes in short, uneven intervals as he slowly brings his blood-soaked fingers into view, fully grasping his soon demise.

         “Cas,” I say softly, helping myself to my feet. Castor doesn’t register my voice and doesn’t look away from our dying father. My hand wraps around his wrist, “Cas. Come on.”

“I,” He stammers, swallowing thickly. “I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” I reassure. “But we need to go. Right now.”

“We can’t just leave him!” He argues, wrangling his wrist from my grip. “He’ll die!”

“Isn’t that what we’ve wanted this whole time?”

         Castor softens at my words, finally understanding what this is. It isn’t a murder, but an opportuinty for freedom. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

We both trail back to my bedroom, and for the first time, I don’t close the door behind me. Castor is already on the other side, heaving open my window. A frigid breeze fills my room as he manages to open the window, revealing a snowstorm that must have begun brewing only minutes before.

         I briefly consider grabbing our winter coats from my closet, but Castor has already pushed my halfway outside as the thought crosses my mind. I almost slip on the sleet that coats the overhang, but I manage to steady myself. The air bites at my exposed flesh, and my entire body trembles as I latch onto the downspout and brace myself for the fall. Castor climbs out, shutting the window behind him and catching my gaze. We smile at each. Even though we’re hurting and cold, we share a moment of triumph. Halfway out of this bullshit.

         I take the bags and dump them off the roof into our front garden, although I can hardly see where they land through the snowfall. Despite the pain that lingers as a ghost in this house’s hall, I find it hard to let go of the downspout. There’s still time, I could save my father and maybe he’ll see what he’s done to this family. But I know better than to think any of this is salvageable.

  Castor lands a hand on my arm, offering an expression that tells me he knows what I’m thinking but I have to let go. So I do. I don’t look back as I turn and jump from the ledge, everything falls with me in slow motion as I hit the ground. I dig my fingers into the… grass?

         Instead of a pillowy bed of snow, I’ve landed in a patch of the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. Grass that London’s winters could never accommodate that’s for sure. I stand and dust the dirt from my pleated skirt, trying to comprehend the fact that I hadn’t landed in my front garden, but the middle of the woods, not an inch of snow in sight.

         “What the hell?” Castor exclaims, coming to stand next to me. “Tell me this isn’t some kind of sick dream.”

         “How many fingers are on your hands?” I ask, checking mine. Ten.

         “What?”

         “How many fingers are on your hands?” I echo, tilting my chin to meet his gaze. Castor looks at me puzzled. “If you’re dreaming, you’ll have more than ten fingers.”

         Castor raises his bloodied palms to his face, before returning his attention to me. “If we aren’t dreaming then where are we?”

         I open my mouth to answer, but it seems as though I don’t need to.

         “Narnia,” A voice says from behind us.

         We both turn to face a boy with golden blonde hair, perhaps a year older than I, sitting on the back of a dark brown stallion. 

         “Narni-what?” Castor repeats.

         The boy laughs and slides effortlessly from his saddle, “Narnia.”

         “Okay, but we were just at our house a minute ago,” I say, desperately trying to make sense of this situation. I don’t want this to be a dream. This can’t be a dream.

         “And now you’re here,” He replies. “What are your names?”

         “I’m Seren and this is Cast-”

         “Who are you?” Castor interrupts, taking a step forward.

         “I’m Peter, one of the Kings,” He explains and I almost scoff. He’s just a boy, how could he be King? “My brother should be around here somewhere. When he gets back we’ll take you to the Cair and explain everything over tea.” Peter pauses, perhaps taking a moment to observe the state of us. “But you’re safe here, that I promise.”

          Castor turns to look at me, clearly suspicious but I know the look in his eye. It’s the kind of look the promise of safety can give you after it only being a dream for so long. The look of hope.

[abundanceofnots]

The door to the darkened alley next to the Alibi Room opens behind him, letting out a jumble of voices and loud music. Mickey expected Ian to find him there sooner or later. That’s why he’s so surprised to see that it’s not his husband pushing the heavy door open with his hip, his hands occupied by holding two glasses of beer, but Tami, his—

Well, whatever they are to each other.

Strangers, mostly. Both holding the title of Gallagher family appendages—the husband and the baby mama—who occasionally shared a laugh over some Gallagher bullshit. But that has always been as far as their relationship went.

“Occupied,” he informs her curtly before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

Tami smiles, undeterred.

“I was actually looking for you,” she explains as she lets the door close behind her, cutting the sounds from the inside to mere thumps again.

“Look, if you’re already tired of your baby daddy’s dick, I can’t say I blame ya, but you’ll have to find someone else because, on principle, I don’t fuck Lip’s sloppy seconds—”

Tami makes a face. “Jesus fuck. Is that really the only reason you can think of why I might want to see you?”

His eyes dart around her head of hair as he tries to look at anywhere but her, suddenly feeling very tense.

“Yeah?”

“Well, fuck you, too. No, here, listen.” She passes him one of the beers. “I saw the way you looked back in there and thought you might wanna talk.”

Mickey’s felt sick all evening. Ever since their big announcement when Ian threw his arm around Mickey’s shoulders, squeezed him tight, and gave him that blinding grin before he told everyone the good news.

There was clapping and noise, so much fucking noise. People were reaching out their hands to tap him on the shoulder or shake his hand, and it made Mickey feel like those hands were all grasping his throat while his blood was pumping in his ears.

His plan was to spend the rest of the party here, where he could breathe again, chain-smoking his way through the ordeal. He thinks he’ll be sick if he drinks anything right now, but he takes the glass from Tami anyway.

“About?” he shoots back noncommittally.

“Why you’re scared.”

On instinct, Mickey scoffs out a laugh. “Fuck off, I ain’t scared.”

“Right,” Tami replies, giving him a pointed look over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip. “That why you’re hiding out here during your own party?”

“Just needed to—” Groaning in exasperation, Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose and composes himself. “I just needed a second away from everyone congratulatin’ me. Or callin’ me daddy Milkovich. Or fuckin’ Kermit asking if I was gonna be the mom or the dad—” He cuts himself off again, measuring Tami with a hard stare. “What’s it to you, anyway?

She responds with a sincere smile.

“Believe it or not, I was scared of having a baby, too.”

Mickey’s brows furrow in confusion. “That why you decided to have another?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not scared anymore.”

“Sounds fuckin’ stupid.”

“Maybe,” Tami admits with half a shrug.

They spend the next few minutes in silence, Tami drinking her beer and Mickey finishing his smoke, his own beer left untouched.

“But you’re a chick, you know, so it’s different,” Mickey states resolutely after he lights another cigarette, confident he’s found an argument she couldn’t dispute. “You have, like, all those motherly instincts and shit. I don’t.”

For some reason, she snorts and shakes her head. Then, her expression softens again, and she says, “I have it on good authority that there’s one little boy who basically worships the ground you walk on.”

“He’s five. Fuck does he know,” he retorts back derisively, immediately chastising himself because Freddie knew a lot, in fact. Most importantly, how to get underneath Mickey’s skin.

Not that he didn’t love and pester Ian just as much, obviously. Everyone loved Ian, the charming motherfucker. But Mickey and the kid had a special bond, much to Lip’s irritation.

Freddie was one of the main reasons Mickey decided that he was ready to have kids all those months ago. He isn’t so sure of it now, though.

He takes another drag and lets the smoke out through his nose.

“I never thought I’d be this,” he explains ambiguously, not just meaning being a guy who gives enough shit to smoke outside a bar. “Always knew how to survive. I was good at that. I was gonna see forty, most of it behind bars, maybe fifty, if I was lucky enough and didn’t lose a fuckin’ limb at some shitty construction job. And then, one day, I wake up to a tire iron to my spine—”

“If that’s a metaphor, I don’t follow.”

“—and next thing I know, I have a whole ass husband, a fuckin’ condo on the West Side like some yuppie, and I catch myself sayin’ things like, fuck it, let’s have a kid. What’s wrong with me? I can’t fuckin’ do this, can I?”

The truth he’ll never admit to anyone, probably, is that Tami’s right. He is scared. Fucking terrified, really. Because there’s a kid who will have him for a dad, and Mickey feels sorry for it.

The poor bastard isn’t even a proper baby yet. It’s just a sonogram stuck to their fridge. A baby-like matter that Ian’s app insists is the size of cauliflower now. When Mickey finally managed to spot one in Whole Foods, he found himself apologizing to it for some bizarre reason.

He doesn’t want to be like his dad. He wants to do this right, but he doesn’t know if he knows how.

“The most important thing?” Tami breaks the silence then, reading Mickey’s reaction correctly even when he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t bail on this kid. Or Ian, because he’ll need you to be there just as much.”

Mickey bites his cheek and nods. There’s a chance he’d say more, ask Tami for advice even, maybe, if, at that very second, Ian didn’t come out to join them, bursting out of the alleyway door as if summoned.

“There’s the pops-to-be!” he cheers a little too loudly with a smile that splits his whole face. He stumbles forward on clumsy feet and envelops Mickey tightly in his arms. “I was looking for you.”

“Fuckin’ octopus-man,” Mickey laughs, careful not to let the drunk idiot spill his beer. “How much did you have to drink?”

“Just a couple beers,” Ian answers as he nuzzles into Mickey’s neck.

“Such a fuckin’ lightweight.”

Humming his agreement, Ian snags Mickey’s glass and knocks down most of its contents in one go. He belches before saying in a low voice, “I was planning on dragging your ass to the bathroom later and having my way with you, but since we’re already here, alone...”

He already has his free hand palming at Mickey’s dick over his jeans when Tami makes a sound behind him, something between a snort and a cough.

Ian’s eyes take a minute to properly zero in on her.

“Tami! Hey!” he greets her with exaggerated excitement. “You’re here, too. Why are you here, too? Something wrong?”

Tami looks pointedly at Mickey. “Wanna tell him, or should I?”

He seriously considers being honest for a second, but his next words are out before he can stop them.

“Your brother’s girlfriend was tryna jump me.”

Tami almost chokes on the incredulous huff of laughter she lets out. She finishes her beer and shakes her head, staring Mickey down.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Mickey, I swear to God. Forget I ever said anything,” she barks at him as she goes for the door.

“Hey, Tami,” Mickey stops her last minute. “Thanks, or whatever.”

Tami rolls her eyes. Still, just before she slips back inside, she throws a quick smile over her shoulder.

“Did you just thank her for trying to fuck you?” Ian inquires stupidly when the door closes behind her.

“Sure,” Mickey sounds off without further explanation.

He turns back to his husband and lightly pats his cheek, letting his hand slide all the way down to his junk in hopes of pointing his attention in the right direction again. “So, about those plans you had—“

But all of a sudden, Ian’s white as a sheet, giving him a look of absolute horror.

“What?” Mickey asks, mirroring his look.

“Think I’m gonna puke.”

“’ Course you are,” Mickey has enough time to groan before Ian bends in half and proceeds to throw up on the sidewalk.

Mickey takes a few steps away, trying to give Ian some privacy, but he’s stopped by a hand clutching his wrist and pulling him back.

“I’m so sorry, Mick,” Ian says in between spits as his hand slides down to hold Mickey’s awkwardly.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Mickey tells him gently—just as gently as he strokes his back in big circles. “I’m here.”

[mrs-gucci]

Casting Couch {Charlie Barber x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I was driving home from work the other day and this idea just suddenly took over my entire thought process. so, naturally, I went ahead and wrote it up :)

warnings (what you see here is what you’ll get!): smut. the enemy of my enemy is my ally (with benefits). p in v sex. protected sex. rough oral sex. cum- swallowing.

(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex.

word count: 3.2k

charlie’s taglist peeps! {charlie currently doesn’t have any taglist peeps} my general taglist peeps! @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight​ @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy​ @I-can’t-draw-faces @ahsoka1​ @babbushka​ @safarigirlsp​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

Two Years Ago.

“Y/N...she fucking did it again.” Nicole says as she barges through the door of hers and Charlie’s shared brownstone. “She got the fucking TV gig.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrow a bit before looking up at his wife with an empathetic expression, setting the notebook and pen he’d been using down on the coffee table.

“Bummer. I really thought you had it in the bag.” He says, elbows on his thighs as he leans forward a bit, folding his hands. “There will be other roles; I wouldn’t worry too much. You win some, you lose some; that’s how it goes in this industry. You’ve taken plenty of roles from her.”

She sighs, nodding. “Yeah, I know, but this one I was excited about. And I really thought I had it, too. It just stung a little extra, you know?”

Her husband nods, patting the seat next to him on the couch. “C’mere, sit with me. We’ll have a glass of wine.”

Nicole gives somewhat of a dreadful grimace, a clear sign she really wasn’t interested. Charlie’s been noticing this for the past few months, her disinterest in being with him as much as she usually was, but he figured it was just her being tired. She’s been doing a lot of odd jobs to make some ends meet lately, so it’s probably a result of that.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a twang of longing sadness in his voice.

She nods. “Yeah, I’m just gonna go lay down for a bit.”

Charlie just nods, picking back up his notebook and pen, continuing to review and add to his notes from the day. 

“Let me know if you need anything.” He calls after her. “I love you.”

She only offers him a small smile over her shoulder in return before emerging into their bedroom, closing the door immediately behind her. 

Present Day.

It feels strange, holding auditions for a female lead. He hasn’t had to do so in almost a decade;  just yet another reminder of how much of his life has changed just in the past year.

The divorce had been painful, stressful, and he was honestly more relieved than anything when it finally came to a close, despite it not really turning out the way he’d hoped for in terms of custody over Henry. 

Luckily, he’s dove deeper into his one true love, directing, as a way to cope with the loss of everything he’d worked so hard to build for himself; the marriage, the 'American dream’ family and home he wished he’d had growing up.

Now, after six months of weekly therapy appointments and keeping himself busy with work, he’s feeling more like the old Charlie he was back before everything went to shit. Actually, he’s feeling like an even better version of that Charlie, the best version of himself there’s been in a while, perhaps even before he met and married Nicole.

The first audition comes onstage and Charlie can’t decide what’s worse, her off-pitch singing or her monotonous speaking voice. 

God, this was going to be a long fucking day.

-

You’d heard through the grapevine that the famed Broadway director had moved here to LA, and that he’d divorced his witch of a wife, Nicole. 

Nicole Barber had been your biggest rival ever since you swiped that first movie role away from her. She hates you, and you don’t particularly like her, either, thus your rivalry began. And it was pretty heated, too; the two of you were always trying to one-up each other.

It really was a back-and-forth battle, her swiping roles from you, you returning the favor; it was a game, to put it simply. Although lately, you’ve been getting more roles than she has, not that you’re complaining, and there’s a part of you that hopes she quits the business for good.

Word got around that Charlie is heading his first LA Broadway production and what better way to hit Nicole close to home than to show up at her ex-husband’s auditions? Even better, what if you got the female lead in her ex-husband’s production? Oh god, that would be fantastic, not only for the rivalry but also for your career.

You’ve been looking to branch out into more theater roles, and this is as good an opportunity as to dip your toe in the theater world water. Plus, you’re not necessarily complaining about having the chance to look at and work with Charlie Barber every day...

So you prepared your piece of dialogue and a section of one of the choice songs, heading over to the theater fifteen minutes before your set audition time. Your knee bounces as you sit in the waiting area, eyes running over your script and lyrics sheet one final time, solidifying it all in your memory.

Your name is called a few minutes later and you head out onto the stage, handing over your headshot and qualifications resume. The agent hands over your profile to the handsome director, but he doesn’t even really look at it, already knowing exactly who you are. A small smirk grazes his lips as he flips to a new page of his notebook, clicking the top of his pen.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Y/N.”

After you’re finished, Charlie scribbles one final thing in his notebook before looking up at you. His eyes trail over your figure for a moment, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Would you be comfortable coming back for a more intimate audition later this week? Maybe, Friday at four? I would like to get to know you better, see if you meet all of my... qualifications.”

The look in his eye tells you all you need to know about the true motivations behind his question. You nod, biting your lip.

“It’d be my absolute pleasure, Mr. Barber.” You purr.

He shifts in his seat suddenly and quickly crosses one leg over the other before opening up your folder, handing the top sheet to his assistant.

“Diane, go ahead and have Miss Y/N put down all of her contact information.” His gaze never leave you as he speaks to the timid-seeming young woman. “Make sure she gives her personal cell number.”

You pull a pen from your bag on the stage, clicking it open before Diane hands you the paper. As you write every means of contact you can think of, starting with your cell number, you playfully bite the end of the pen and tap it against your bottom lip, something that certainly keeps the already attentive director’s full attention.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Barber.” Your tone is innocent-sounding, but your gaze is anything but. It sends a chill down Charlie’s spine. “I promise I won’t disappoint.”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t.” A small tug at one corner of his lip accompanies his response. “See you soon, Miss Y/N.”

You offer him a nod.

“Looking forward to it.”

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

In preparation for your upcoming...meeting with Charlie, you take a quick trip to the nearest intimates store, picking up a pretty little lace bra and panty set. Your lingerie wardrobe is long overdue for a bit of sprucing up, anyway.

When the time comes, you slip the fresh lace garments on before putting on your planned outfit, a cute-but-subtly-sexy low cut romper. You put on a light face of makeup, purely for professionalism’s sake, then head out with a small bag which contains various personal items as well as your script and composition page.

He’s not in his backstage office when you arrive, but he comes in a couple minutes later, a strong stench of cigarette smoke trailing behind him as he walks by your chair.

“I apologize for the delay. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

You shake your head as he takes a seat behind the ratty oak desk, shifting a few small stacks of papers around on the heavily scratched surface.

“No, no I wasn’t waiting long.”

He nods, then folds his hands atop the desk, eyes flickering up to meet yours. For a moment, his eyes dart down to where your cleavage creeps out of your low-cut top.

“You’ve got the part.” Charlie says with a small smile. “You’re by far the best and most qualified audition we had yesterday, and I like the way you carry yourself. You’re exactly the type of person I like working with. Part’s yours if you want it.”

You’re overcome with joy, a wide smile spreading itself across your lips. “I’d love to be a part of this production, Mr. Barber. I’m really excited to get to work with you and the rest of the crew.”

“That’s great, I’m glad to hear it.” He nods, smile widening when as he processes your acceptance. His delighted expression falls after a few moments, replaced by one much more salacious.

“Now that we’ve gotten that part out of the way...I think you know why I called a meeting of such, uh, privacy.”

You smirk softly, shifting around in your seat slightly. “I believe I do.”

His feet plant on the ground as he pushes the rolling office chair out from under the desk, standing up and walking around the desk to tower over you. 

“Before anything happens, though, I want you to know that whether or not you do this with me will not affect my casting decision. Even if you decline, you still have the part.”

You nod before standing, quickly and swiftly, stepping forward to press yourself flush against him.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

Your hands rest on his chest, neck craning slightly to look up at him. “Just kiss me, will you?”

He laughs, massive hand moving to cradle the back of your head before he bends down and connects your lips in a passionate kiss. There’s nothing tender or gentle about this embrace, it’s all tongue and teeth, raw lust coursing between your two bodies.

“Couch.” His voice is soft but husky.

“Unzip me first?” You ask, turning around so he can unzip you. He does, then his hands slide down to your hips and pushes you towards the leather couch tucked in the corner of his office.

The material squeaks when you’re laid down on top of it, head resting comfortably on the cushy fabric accent pillow as he climbs on top of you. He presses his hips forward while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and plants kisses on the skin there.

Your eyes widen as his impressive bulge rubs up against your inner thigh and you quickly wonder how in the world you’ll be able to take him. His crooked teeth scrape over the taut muscles in your neck while his hands pull the backs of your romper down over your shoulders.

His hands grab and grope your breasts beneath where they rest in your nice bra, one you wore just for him, and your back arches slightly up off the cushions with a soft sigh. 

A small smile crosses his expression, teeth sinking gently into your neck. “I like the little noises you make for me, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You smirk, running your hands through his hair. “Then I bet you’ll like my moans, too. If you think you can draw them out of me, that is.”

He laughs softly, sucking and licking at at the place his teeth have just abused. “Is that a challenge?”

“Well, it’s more like an invitation to prove yourself, but ‘challenge’ is also a good word for it.”

Charlie pulls away with a smirk, shaking his head as he sits back on his haunches and begins to unbuckle his belt.

“Brat.”

Once he’s undone his pants and pulled them down enough to expose himself to you, he leans down once more and pulls your romper the rest of the way off, leaving you completely bare, minus your undergarments. His eyes roam your figure for a moment before he dips a hand beneath the patch of black fabric nestled between your thighs.

Your breath hitches as his fingertips swipe over your erect clit, giving it a few little circles before yanking the panties off your hips and down your ankles, tossing them down alongside your previously-discarded romper.

His eyes widen in realization, cheeks flushing pink.

“Do you have any, um, protection?”

You smirk, nodding as you sit up and pat his chest. “Indeed, I do.”

He crawls off of you and you walk over to your purse, grabbing a condom from the mini-stash you keep in your wallet, the one you replenished just minutes before you left the house this afternoon. He takes it from you and pinches the tip, rolling it down his shaft. For a moment, you’re worried that it isn’t going to fit, but he rolls it on with little issue.

His hips press forward, then, entering you slowly but steadily with a soft grunt. You whine as your insides stretch out around him, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair.  “S-Shit.”

“You’re really fucking tight, jesus.” He growls between gritted teeth, jaw screwed shut as his hips begin to move. “I haven’t fffucked anyone in a while, Y/N, so I can’t guarantee that I’ll last very long.”

You nod, softly. “It’s alright, Charlie; it’s been a little while for muh--me, too.”

Your eyes flutter shut and your face begins to scrunch up with each time his fat cockhead brushes up against your cervix. His pace increases after a minute or so, a consistent slap-slap-slap noise now echoing off the drywall with each snap of his hips. 

“You’ve got a nice little pussy, you know that? Always knew you would be, too, knew you’d be a good little cccocksleeve.”

You moan shakily as he adjusts his position, towering over you and pinning your wrists above your head with one of his large hands. Your body begins to bounce, tits, thighs and tummy jiggling each time he thrusts in. 

He’s starting to sweat, a few dark hairs sticking to his dimly-glowing forehead, more and more accumulating there as his hair rocks back and forth in time with the rhythm of his hips.

“Touch yourself, now, rrrub your little clit.” His voice is getting shaky as he draws nearer to climax.

Nodding, your hand slides down between your joined bodies until your fingertips settle onto the small bundle of nerves. The hand that’s still weaved in Charlie’s locks clenches and he lets out a sudden deep growl, hips stuttering for a moment.

“Ooooh, Charlie.” You moan, hips lifting and gyrating against both his cock and your fingers.

“God, fffuck I love this cunt.” A vulgar squelching sound knits itself within the quilt of your salacious symphony. “Wrapped around my cock like a vice, gonna pull the fucking cum right out of it. Swear you get tighter each time I push back in...christ, I’m not gonna last.”

Your fingers circle your clit faster, setting a desperate pace, one that almost matches his quick and sloppy thrusts. You’re close now, too, and it doesn’t take much longer for your orgasm to hit.

You cream around him with a long moan and a string of various other noises, with a few profanities thrown in as well. The product of your release coats his shaft in a pearlescent sheen, dripping down his ball-sack soon enough. 

The sensations your climax creates around Charlie forces him to pull away almost immediately after, quickly yanking the condom off and onto his office floor, squeezing the base of his flaming red length. 

His hand seizes your jaw tightly, thumb pressing down on your tongue, prying your mouth open. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth and shove my cum down your throat, and you’re gonna take it all, isn’t that right?”

You’re nodding instantly, slacking your jaw to open even further in preparation for his upcoming intrusion. He smirks.

“Good. Now, on your knees.”

He sits down where you once laid, lazily pumping his throbbing length as you get into position between his spread legs. He pulls your hair up into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, then lines you up with his cock and eases your mouth down onto him.

“Thaaaaaat’s it, oh, gooooood girl.”

You start gagging about three quarters of the way down his shaft, but he still keeps pushing until you’ve got the whole thing in your mouth. Your jaw’s already getting sore as he begins thrusting upwards, fucking your mouth. 

Tears swell in your eyes and begin to spill down your cheeks the more he goes, mascara surely ruined and running down your face. The sight only arouses him further, a low groan rumbling through his puffed chest.

He’s trying so hard to keep himself together, to stave off his orgasm for as long as he can manage, but soon he finds it next to impossible to hold back. His bottom lip quivers ever so slightly as his length begins to twitch, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna--”

You taste and feel the salty ropes shooting down your throat before he can even finish his warning.

“Ah, fffuuuuck.” His head falls back against the couch cushions, hips bucking gently as each bit of release is spilled into your mouth. His grip on your head relaxes after he’s finished, cock softening while he catches his breath and re-grounds himself in reality.

Your chest heaves as full airflow returns to your lungs, knees and jaw aching a bit sore from their exertion. You grab your underwear from where they lay discarded on top of your romper, putting them back on before standing up on somewhat shaky legs. 

Charlie also redresses, standing and straightening himself out as you do the same. 

“Mind zipping me back up?” You ask, turning around again. 

He pulls the zipper up your back until it’s at the end of its tracks, then steps up behind you, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Thank you.”

A soft smile grazes your lips. “No ‘thanks’ needed; the sweet taste of revenge and spite is payment enough.”

He laughs quietly.

“Well, I’ll certainly be available, should you ever need a little replenishing of those feelings.”

“Mr. Barber, you wouldn’t be saying that because you’d like to see me naked again, now would you?” Your eyebrows raise and you look over your shoulder, a playful smile on your face.

He laughs again, blushing a bit. “Uh, yeah, sure, I'd like that a lot. But I’d also like to see you, um...not naked, fully clothed, maybe at a restaurant in the city for dinner sometime? I totally get it if you’re not interested, it’s not a big deal if you don’t want to...”

Holy shit, he’s asking you out on a date. Well, he’s trying to, at least.

You laugh, cheeks warming at his proposition.

“Sure thing. I just accepted this new job, though, so I’ll have to get back to you about my availability...”

Charlie smiles, shoving his hands down in his khaki pockets. “I’m sure your new boss would be more than willing to accommodate. He’s a pretty cool guy, or so I’ve heard. Handsome, too.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like you have a reliable informant.” You turn around as you laugh softly, grabbing your bag off the chair before stepping up in front of him. Your lips plant a quick peck on his, hands resting on his broad chest. “See you soon.”

He nods, biting his lip to hold back his big, goofy smile.

“Can’t wait.”