amalgamcorps

[kanerallels]

Absolutely weeping and gnashing my teeth over my own hubris the short fic I was writing is now going to be 5 chapters long hOW DO I GET MYSELF INTO THESE SITUATIONS???

[lanadelnegan]

My Girl

S7!Negan x Reader

Requested from anon: hey! loving the blog and every story you post! i was wondering if you’d do a story of a reader’s first time being with S7 Negan who is an asshole at first but then goes soft because he accidentally made her cry??

OOOH I'm gonna have some FUN with this one. And thank you so much <3.

Summary: Rick's oldest daughter, y/n, loses her virginity to Negan.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, virgin first time, vaginal sex, daddy-kink, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 40), Rick walks in on Negan eating you out.. (twice), degrading language, mushy romantic Negan, Negan fucks you in nothing but his leather jacket

A/N: This is my favorite fic I have written by far and I hope you love it as much as I do cuz I am obsessed.

"Carl, take your sisters upstairs and don't come down until I say it's safe." I lift Judith out of her high chair and follow Carl up the stairs.

Our dad has always treated us like Carl's the older one, even though he's two years younger than me, but I don't mind. If anything, it takes some of the pressure off of being big sis all the time.

I hear Negan's voice booming in the distance as my dad opens the door to head back outside. This has become part of our weekly routine at this point. Negan and his men went from monthly visits to weekly visits over the past couple months, but I don't mind that either.

The more I get to see him, the merrier.

I move the bedroom curtains slightly, peeking through my window until my eyes find Negan standing in the street in front of our house. I'm able to make out what they're saying if I listen closely enough.

"Rickyyy, I missed ya. Where's that sweet daughter of yours hiding? .....The older one of course." I can't stop the grin that appears on my face when he asks about me.

"This isn't about her. Get what you need, and leave." My dad stands firmly planted with his hands on his hips and my eyes roll at his attitude. Maybe if my dad would just be civil with Negan all of this could stop. I revert my gaze back to Negan.

"Now, Prick, you know I can't leave without seeing my girl."

His girl... The butterflies in my stomach flutter at the sound of that.

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" Carl asks rudely from across the room while holding Judith and bouncing her so she doesn't cry.

I quickly glare at Carl before turning my gaze back towards the window. When I look back down, Negan is looking up at me, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. I can't look away, and he lets his gaze linger a little too long as well, prompting my dad to look at my window. I quickly drop the curtain and back away.

"Take Judith to her room and put her down for her nap." I instruct Carl. He stares at me suspiciously. "Go! What did I just say?" I snap impatiently. He shakes his head but ultimately leaves.

"You're always so weird when he comes around." He says under his breath. I close my door behind them and go back to the window, peeking again, but this time everyone's gone. I rush to go see what's going on, but as soon as I swing my door open and run out, I crash into a tall, solid figure. My eyes widen as I look up at the man in the leather jacket.

"Hey, doll. Miss me?"

"Uh - I - where's my dad?" I stutter nervously, peaking around him.

"Busy getting supplies for me. He'll be busy for the next hour, so I thought I'd come keep you company."

Negan's been visiting Alexandria for months now, and each time he comes, our talks get longer and flirtier. Well, he flirts with me and I pretend to be annoyed, mostly so others don't think I like him. If they only knew how much I think about his beard between my legs.

There's something about him that intrigues me.. fascinates me even. I'm ashamed to admit I've even touched myself a couple times - okay, a lot of times - to the thought of him.

When I don't respond, he backs us into my bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He slides his shoes and jacket off, sitting on my bed and leaning back with his feet propped up. I blush at the sight of him in my bed and restrain myself from ripping my clothes off here and now. A chill runs through my body, making me noticeably shake but I try to play it off. He probably things I'm scared, when in reality I just want him.

"Relax, I'd never hurt you darlin'. Unless you want me to." He winks as he leans back against the headboard getting more comfortable.

"I know." And I do... for some reason, I know he wouldn't hurt me.

He bites his bottom lip playfully and raises his eyebrows while patting the bed next to him.

I nervously walk over and sit down before leaning back, mimicking his position. My bed is a twin, so it doesn't allow much room to ourselves. My shoulder is pressed against his and the simple act has my body on fire already. I glance over and let my eyes roam up his white t-shirt to his handsome face. He watches me with amusement while his leg presses against mine teasingly.

"Sweetheart, I've been around the block long enough to know when a girl wants my dick. And I can practically hear that pussy fucking purring every time I come near you." He grins at me like he knows all my secrets.

My face burns with embarrassment at his words.

"I bet I could make you blush even harder than that, doll." His grin stretches wider but I stay silent, letting him do the talking.

"Of course.. I wouldn't do anything you're not comfortable wi-"

Before he can finish, I press my lips to his hard and climb on top of him. His mouth parts, letting my tongue in and his subtle moan makes my pussy flutter. He tastes like whiskey and smells like leather and I feel high off the taste of him as we kiss passionately. I grind my hips desperately into him and feel his bulge grow underneath me.

"Negan... I need you."

"I know baby." He breathes out.

My hands fumble with his belt and pants until I get them undone. He watches me as I pull out his cock and my pussy is already sore from just looking at it. No way it's gonna fit.

"How do you want it, baby? You gonna be a big girl and ride daddy?" His hands squeeze my ass underneath my dress and he practically growls when he realizes I'm not wearing panties.

"It's like you knew I was coming. Such a bad little girl." His fingers tease my opening and I'm embarrassed that I'm already pathetically soaked for him.

"All for me?" He slides a finger through my slit and brings it up to his mouth for a taste. "So fucking sweet."

I slide myself against his cock that's now slippery with my wetness and wonder how I'm gonna fit that thing inside me.

The big dick energy definitely checks out.

I hover above him naively, thinking I can actually take him. The tip just barely pushes through my opening and I moan at the sudden pressure. His hands grip my ass, guiding me down over him.

"Come on baby, that's it." He praises me as I keep sliding down. I stop when I can't take anymore, realizing I have at least four more inches to go.

"Oh, I know my little slut can take more than that."

I shake my head. "Negan, I don't think I -"

"You can, and you will, doll. I didn't come all the way here for you to only take half of my dick."

Tears fill my eyes as I try to sit all the way on him, wanting to make him proud. I make it another inch before the pain is too much. Not only with how deep he is, but he's so wide I think he may actually be ripping me apart.

"Deeper, y/n." He demands.

When I try again and fail, I quickly climb off of him frustrated. "I can't Negan, I'm trying!" He sits up in the bed, his feet on the floor now.

"Bend over."

"W-what?"

"Do not make me ask again." His jaw clenches as he stares at me seriously.

I lay myself over him, my ass facing upwards on his lap.

"You're going to take all of me, baby. If my wives at home can take me, I expect nothing less from you."

He doesn't even give me a warning before bringing his hand down painfully on my ass making me yelp. He chuckles darkly before smacking me again. He rubs the sensitive spot before teasing both of my holes.. One with his thumb and the other with his middle finger.

"What would daddy say if he could see you right now? Bent over my fucking lap and dripping for me like a little whore..." He pushes his thumb and finger deep inside each of my openings and I bite my lip hard at the pain.

I know he's trying to be all dominant right now.. I'm not oblivious to how rough sex works, but my eyes still sting with tears at his crude words. I shouldn't have built my hopes up that Negan could actually care and be gentle with me.

I sniffle as the tears fall, trying to wipe the snot dripping from my nose.

He quickly pulls me up and his eyes are filled with concern.

"Baby? Hey, look at me." He cups my face gently as I sit on the bed next to him.

"I - I liked you." I choke out. "I was the only one here who actually cared about you and saw you as a person.. and you.. you just see me as a stupid object you can shove your dick in.... You just ruined my first experience with a man. I hope you're happy." I sob while looks like someone just punched him in the gut.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He presses his forehead to mine, looking down with regret. "I didn't know you were all mushy about me and shit.. Truth is?" He tilts my chin to look at him. "I was being so harsh with you cause I didn't want to admit my own feelings. I didn't think you'd ever want an asshole like me, so I didn't want to go catching feelings for someone who didn't want me back. But baby? I can't get you outta my fucking head... Why do you think I started visiting every week?"

My teary eyes look up at him and he looks genuine. I want to trust him so badly, but my heart and head are saying two different things.

"Fuck, y/n. I know you don't believe me. Let me prove it to you. What can I do? Just say the fucking word."

"Stop taking our stuff... Leave our people alone..."

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to agree to. "Does that include you?"

I try to hide my grin as I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. "....No."

"Then it's a deal, baby."

"That's it? Just like that?" I look at him confused.

He shrugs. "Guess you've got me wrapped around your finger already, darlin...And now that I know you've never been with a man, I'm taking my fucking time with you." He lays me down on the bed while kissing and climbing over me.

"What about my dad? He'll be back soon."

"Simon's keeping watch, doll."

His lips travel to my neck. "....What about your other wives? You're just gonna fuck me and go back to them?"

He laughs against my neck. "Sweetheart.. I kicked every one of them to the curb the day I layed eyes on you."

My mouth drops open but he cuts me off by pulling my dress down over my chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. I moan and arch myself into him. After a few moments of sucking each one, he slides down further, lifting my dress to my waist and settling his head between my legs. I watch him in awe as he takes his time, kissing my inner thighs.

"Has anyone ever eaten you, baby?"

I shake my head no as I lean up on my elbows to watch him.

"Good." He spreads my pussy lips apart with his fingers and I blush at him staring at it. "Such a pretty pussy. Fuck." He says before locking eyes with me and pressing a kiss to my clit gently. I moan from the contact and arch myself into him, silently begging for more.

He dips his tongue in me and curls it up, gathering my juices. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he groans and licks all the way up to my clit before sucking on it softly. My mouth drops open and my hips try to jerk away, being overwhelmed by sensitivity.

He smiles against me. "Not going anywhere until you cum all over my face, doll." He wraps his arms up around my thighs, pressing my stomach down with his hands.

My breathing matches the speed of his licking and sucking and I feel the pressure building up inside me.

"Fuck, Negan!" My eyes are clenched shut but snap open when my door suddenly flies open.

"Shit! Dad!" I reach to throw my blanket over me, but defeatedly realize it's on the floor. My eyes widen in horror at my father standing in the doorway, looking like he just saw a ghost. A ghost that's eating his daughter's pussy. I'm unable to close my legs because Negan is still holding me down with his hands.

"God fucking dammit, Rick. We were just ge-"

"Negan!" I cut him off, my cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment.

He kisses my pussy one more time and my eyes widen, not believing he just did that in front of my father. He finally leans up, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and smirking at my dad like he's proud of himself.

I quickly get up and fix my dress.

"Dad, look, I -" I look up, stopping at the sight of Carl pointing a gun directly at Negan's head.

Negan tucks himself back into his jeans, buckling his belt and ignoring Carl.

"Carl.." I slowly step in front of Negan. "Put the gun down."

"You - you wanted this? Him?" My dad asks horrified. "He's done horrible things, y/n."

"And you haven't?!" I yell at my dad. "I watched you rip a man's neck open with your goddamn teeth. If he's a monster.. then so are you."

Negan steps beside me and laces his fingers through mine before kissing the side of my head.

"I love him, dad." I look up at Negan and elbow him roughly when I see a teasing smirk on his face.

"And you think he loves you? You can't be that stupid." My dad says, putting emphasis on the last word.

Negan chuckles and finally cuts in. "First of all, Dick, do not call my woman stupid. Secondly.." His faces grows serious. "We won't be taking anymore of your things. No more visits. Other than me paying this one a visit of course." Negan winks and puts his his arm around me protectively. "That is.. until she moves in with me." Our eyes all widen at the same time.

"You want me to live with you?" I turn to Negan.

"I mean, you did just confess your love for me, doll. Soo, yeah, that's the plan." He kisses my forehead.

"Y/n, we'll talk about this later. Negan, you need to leave. Now." My dad demands, his jaw ticking with anger.

Negan glares at my dad for a moment before turning to me, lifting my chin to kiss him slowly and passionately. Before he lets go, he whispers in my ear. "Meet me right outside the walls when it gets dark. I am nowhere near done with you, baby."

My heart flutters at the thought of us sneaking out together.

Negan walks towards the door before leaning close to my dad's ear. "I get to be her first, Rick. How fucking sweet is that." I struggle to make out his words but don't miss the chuckle at the end. He pats Carl's shoulder on his way out. "See ya 'round, bro."

"Love you, sweetheart!" He calls out to me as my dad and brother follow behind him, making sure he leaves.

I shut my door and smile giddily, running to the window and peeking out. Negan is already looking up at the window when I look at him. He smirks and winks at me before heading off to the gates.

A few hours later:

The sun just went down and my palms are starting to sweat as I pace back and forth on the outskirts of the gates. A million thoughts race through my head.

What if he doesn't come..

What if it's a trap..

What if he lied about everything he said..

Oh my god.. He's gonna kidnap and torture me..

Shut up. He wouldn't do that.

This is a bad idea. What am I doing.

Just as I turn to run back inside the walls, I see him appear from the shadows, wearing his signature leather jacket with a black t-shirt underneath.

"Were you about to ditch me, y/n?" He asks playfully as he pulls my wrist towards him and crashes his lips into mine. When the kiss deepens, he bends a little, pulling me up by the back of my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist. We make out like horny teenagers while my fingers run through his slick black hair.

"You ready to officially be mine, doll?"

I nod without hesitation. "Yes. I'm already yours, Negan. I don't care what anyone thinks about us."

He kisses me again, setting me back down on the ground. "Lead the way, baby." He nods towards the side gates.

"You want to go back to my house? What if someone sees you?!"

"Kinda hope they do.. I like the thought of everyone knowing who you belong to." He smirks and it makes me knees weak.

"Okay.. come on." I pull his hand as I guide him back to my house. We sneak through the back sliding doors as carefully as possible before tiptoeing up the stairs.

He lightly smacks my ass as we're going up and I turn to shush him, tripping over my own feet in the process. He catches me before I make a loud thud on the stairs and his body is leaned over mine as we try not to laugh.

My body shakes as I laugh silently and bring my hand over my mouth quickly to stop any sound that comes out. His eyebrows raise at me with warning as if I better not make a noise.

"Okay, okay. Shushhh." I whisper before beginning our climb up the stairs again. My dad's room is at the end of the hall and mine is adjacent next to his. We try not to let the floors creak as we get closer to my room. We slip inside and I ease the door shut gently. When it finally clicks shut. I let go of a deep breath and look up at Negan. As soon as our eyes lock, we laugh like idiots, but quiet idiots.

He walks towards me. "Goddamn it, I fucking love you." He says as he lifts me back into his arms kissing me.

"You know.. earlier outside.." I breathe out between our kisses. "I thought.. that maybe you were gonna kidnap and torture me."

He smiles against my mouth as our lips lazily fight each other. "...What if I am?"

I stop kissing him to look at him. When I do, his look turns serious and it scares me for a moment. "I fully plan on making you mine and torturing you with this dick forever, doll."

I grin and roll my eyes as he continues holding me in his arms. "I guess there are worse ways to get tortured."

"Wait until I'm all the way inside you." His eyebrows raise teasingly.

I press my forehead to his and bring my hands to cup his face, kissing him again. I can't take my lips off of him. "Well what are you waiting for?"

That's all he needs to hear before he's walking me towards the bed and laying me down gently. He stands back up, removing his jacket and shirt.

I watch him closely, admiring the flex of his biceps when he moves. "Put the jacket back on. No shirt."

He laughs until he sees that I'm serious.

"Yes ma'am." He says with his little country accent. It's not always noticeable, but when it is.. it's so fucking adorable.

Once he's back in the jacket and bare chested, he stops for a moment before removing his pants. "Can I take these off, at least?"

"No, I want to."

He grin stretches as he walks towards the bed, keeping his hands by his sides. "All yours, baby."

I sit up in the bed in front of him and undo his button and zipper. I shuffle his pants down just a little before pulling his hardening cock out of his boxers. It turns to a steel rod in my hand and I don't care that I'm full on staring at it, assessing each vein and how it turns an ombre shade of pink towards the tip.

"I hope you like what you see, baby. Cause it's the only dick you're gonna be seeing for the rest of your life."

"I'm perfectly happy with that." I look up at him before kissing the tip of him, just like he did to my clit earlier. He watches me proudly, letting his fingers run through my hair lovingly.

I lick my lips before struggling to fit my mouth around him. He chuckles down at me.

“If you can’t fit me in that cunt, what makes you think you can take it down your throat, baby?”

I grin around him and I slide my mouth deeper and deeper. Surprisingly I don’t gag and I think it surprises him too.

Guess I don’t have a gag reflex. That’s good to know.

“Holyyy shit, doll. Look. At. You.” His voice is so deep it vibrates to my pussy. The tip hits the very back on my throat and even further until my eyes water.

I try to jerk my head back, but Negan pushes my head down on him again, my nose pressed into his pubic hair. He waits a few seconds until I feel like I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen before pulling my head back. I gasp for air and he pulls me all the way off of him while kicking his pants and boxers off.

"Trying to make me blow my load before we even get to the good part, darlin'? He climbs over me in the bed, kissing me softly.

My hands slip underneath his jacket and rub his back, scratching at it gently.

"I am gonna make you feel So fucking good." He says before kissing my neck. "You want me to be gentle with you baby?" His voice right in my ear makes me shiver.

I nod and he hovers his face above mine so we’re staring into each other eyes.

“You ready, baby?” He whispers and I nod again.

He leans up on his knees between me and lines himself up with my entrance before pushing the tip through. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

He slowly slides in me further and further as he holds my legs open.

“Goddamn this pussy is so fucking Tight.” He pulls back a little before pushing in deeper and my mouth gapes open slightly.

He chuckles and stares down at me through heavy eyelids. "I'm not even halfway yet, sweetheart. You want more?"

I nod desperately as my eyes fill with tears at the overwhelming sensation of him so deep inside me.

"Take it then, doll. Grind on me and make yourself feel good." He stops moving completely while still on his knees between my legs.

My cheeks blush at his request and he smirks down at me, sliding his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, refusing to move or touch me.

I lean up on my elbows while he's still inside me and push my body further into him, taking every inch I possibly can. I grind myself against him until I find just the right spot for the tip of his cock to press into and drop my head back at how good it feels, not caring about the desperate sounds I let out.

"Oh my god, Negan.. fuck." My face reddens at the intense pleasure as I continue using his cock to pleasure myself.

"Fuck, baby. Now THIS? Is a Fucking sight.. Watching you get off on my cock like a desperate little whore."

"Touch me, Negan. Please."

"Please what?"

"Please Negan."

He removes his hands from his jacket to lean over me, holding himself above me with one hand on the bed while bringing the other to lightly grip my throat.

His dark hazel eyes dart back and forth between mine as he squeezes his fingers gently around my neck. My face reddens even more at the sudden loss of air.

"Try again, doll."

"Please... daddy." I choke out and he quickly releases my throat.

"Good girl." He kisses my lips softly before thrusting his hips hard, completely filling me until his balls are flush against me.

I scream out and his hand immediately covers my mouth while his head dips to the side of mine and his deep voice fills my ear once again.

"Sshhh, baby. I know. I know." He pulls out almost completely before sliding in again, this time softer but just as deep.

My eyes fill with tears at the pain but I don't want him to stop. My fingers grip the bottom of his jacket as he continues fucking me hard and at a steady pace. The headboard begins to lightly bump the wall above me and my eyes widen with panic.

"Negan, the bed. My dad's room is right on the other side."

He chuckles lightly in my ear but doesn't speak. Instead, he pounds into me even harder and faster with his head is buried into my neck.

"Negan!" I whisper yell at him but it feels too good to make him stop. The closer my orgasm gets, the less I care about my dad hearing us.

After a few more thrusts, he slows down and suddenly flips us over with his dick still inside me until I'm laying over him.

"Negan, my dad's gonna come in here! We have to be quie-"

Before I finish, he lifts his knees up and rams his cock into me hard. It feels even deeper from this angle and hits a spot that makes me see stars.

"Come here, baby." He maneuvers me until my arms are wrapped around him and my head is nestled into his neck. He smells like musky cologne and sweat and I can't help but lick him. Our mouths are next to each others ears, breathing and moaning heavily as he begins to thrust up into me faster than ever. The headboard slams into the wall with force but I don't even care.

This feeling is unlike anything I've ever felt or knew was possible, so the last thing I'm gonna do is tell him to stop.

"Negan.." I cry out. "Faster."

He obeys and wraps his arms around me tighter, fucking me at an animalistic pace. I cum so hard and fast I don't even have time to announce it. My pussy clenches and I feel myself suddenly leak around him, soaking his dick and probably even the bed below us.

"Goddamn. That's my good fucking girl... You gonna let daddy cum in this pussy, baby?"

"Yes! Please." I whine.

He growls in my ear and holds himself deep and still inside me as his dick pulses over and over.

I try to slide off of him when he's finished, but he holds me tight, not letting me leave.

"Negan, you need to leave before my dad-"

"He's not here, sweetheart."

"What?!" I snap my eyes to his.

"Relax, baby. He's fine. But I did warn him that if he didn't want to hear his baby girl screaming "daddy" all night.. then he should take your siblings and go stay the night with Daryl." He grins up at me and my brows come together with confusion.

"Wait you.. you told him about our plan?"

"Of course baby. Had to be respectful and ask for your old man's blessing."

"And.. and he gave it to you?!"

Negan laughs and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. "Absolutely not. But respectfully, I told him he didn't have a choice."

The next morning:

My vagina is screaming at me for allowing it to be destroyed last night. I can't count on one hand how many times Negan made me cum. I open my eyes to the sun shining through my window and immediately notice Negan is gone. I shoot up and look around, seeing that his clothes are also gone.

What if he just.. got what he wanted and left..

I throw the covers off of me and get up, grabbing my sundress of the floor and throwing it on before making my way through the house.

"Carl?!.... Dad?!" I yell as I descend quickly down the stairs. I stop at the bottom to find Negan stirring a pot of something on the stove.

"There she is! Mornin' sunshine." I walk over to Negan to see what he's cooking and he holds a spoon up to my mouth, letting me taste the deliciousness. This man can fuck and cook... what a god.

"Was wonderin when you were gonna wake the hell up. It's already lunch time, baby." He presses his lips to mine and I notice his freshly shaven face. I've never seen him like his and he looks so incredibly handsome.

He lifts me up and sets me on the kitchen counter while standing between my legs.

"Mmm, promise me you'll wear little sundresses with no panties underneath for the rest of our lives, doll." He says as he kisses me sweetly. I giggle and wrap my arms around him, kissing his neck.

"You hungry baby?" He asks and I nod sleepily.

"Me too." He slowly gets down on his knees in front of me, draping my legs over his shoulders.

He softly licks me with his tongue, moaning from the taste before burying his face further into me until I feel his tongue push past my hole. His shaven face feels soft and much more gentle than his beard.

My fingers run through his black hair, tugging on it gently as my head falls back.

"Mmm, daddy." I moan and my eyes snap open, hearing movement at the front door. I quickly jerk Negan up while pulling my dress down and sliding off the counter, seeing my dad, Carl, and Daryl standing in the doorway. Carl quickly covers Judith's eyes while he holds her and Negan sighs annoyedly at the sight of them.

"God..DAMN it, Rick. Again? You gotta learn to fucking knock."

"It's my house." My dad's expression is unreadable as he stands there, eyeing Negan. "You said one night. You can be on your way now."

"Well now don't be fucking rude, Prick. Have a seat." He grins widely at my dad before gesturing to the table. "I made spaghetti."

The End.

[shadesoflsk]

YOUR? OUR MARGARET

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader

SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!

MY MASTERLIST

Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.

He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.

Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has. 

He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is. 

A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.

Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon. 

However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:

Dada.

Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.

It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man. 

Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better. 

So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature. 

Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.

Peaceful, he liked it. 

But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon. 

After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging. 

The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.

At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.

His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.

“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him. 

“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.

A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.

And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience. 

Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air. 

You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”

“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.” 

“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.

She started crying.

You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew. 

“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having. 

You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.

“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”

“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.

“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”

“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”

“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.

“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”

It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.

Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.

Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence. 

However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.

“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy. 

“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye. 

Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings. 

And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret. 

Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.

He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk. 

However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you. 

Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up. 

He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.

It was as if the universe was against him.

Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.

On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.

“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”

In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.

“I wouldn't like to intrude.”

“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”

Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.

“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”

“Are you free this 14th?” 

He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time. 

Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?

     ⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.

The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish. 

But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date. 

Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror. 

Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.

The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.

He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.

The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations. 

He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.

But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—’ He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.

He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do. 

But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.

He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario. 

Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope. 

So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.

Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret. 

He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.

When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.

A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.

“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”

Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret. 

“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.

“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself. 

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”

Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.

You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.

“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.

He wants to.

“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry. 

And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.

“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.

Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle. 

“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you. 

“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.

As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep. 

“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose. 

You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.

You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter. 

“Would you like to help me?” You murmur. 

Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.

“If you let me.”

Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you. 

You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.

As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior. 

Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.

“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this. 

“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.

If that was even possible.

As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.

You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it. 

He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.

If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world. 

Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.

Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.

He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.

Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess. 

As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.

What's next?

What is he supposed to do now? 

As if on cue, your words break the silence.

“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.

“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”

“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.

“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”

He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.

For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.

Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.

“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you. 

You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.

As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.

Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.

Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.

The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.

After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.

“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”

He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have. 

“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted. 

“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”

“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”

Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.

He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.

And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession. 

A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—

Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.

He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.

As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.

And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.

The one is indeed not a myth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)

💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

[rainy-day-gracie]

- bloodlust - general marcus acacius x wife!reader

content warnings: shameless and utter filth, discussion/description of periods, mentions of pregnancy, pre-established relationship (married couple), soft!dom marcus acacius because he is husband, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, bondage (wrists and ankles), fingering, spanking (not a punishment), begging, verbal reaffirmed consent, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the word 'whore' as a compliment, discussions of canon typical violence, this man is a SLUTTT and we love him so much, porn with feelings <3

summary: Your cycle comes a month into your marriage to General Marcus Acacius, and he knows how to make you feel better.

a/n: so hi. this is the first fic i've released in four years, and my first time writing full smut before. i've never written for any of pedro's characters before but i've been reading them for a loooong time now, so hopefully this is up to standard! please be kind, i'm just a girl tryna write nasty smut.

______

"Shit, shit, shit," you whisper, despite the fact there is no shit at all. Only blood.

"Why have you not come to bed, my darling wife?" Marcus calls, not seeing the bloodied rag that you quickly hide in the wash bin.

Not meeting his eye, you leave the washroom, crossing over to the bed but making no move to tuck into it. Marcus strolls behind you, wrapping his broad arms around your waist. He wasn't aware, but the pressure of his hands on your belly perfectly eased the incessant cramping that has burdened you all day.

"I'm not sure I'll find sleep tonight," you answer, rolling over how to break the news of your cycle's arrival to him.

As far as you understand, husbands do not want to know about or deal with the monthly cycles of their wives, the cramping stomachs, the wicked mood swings, and least of all, the blood that taints the innermost parts of the woman. It's evidence of vulnerability, something that is out of the control of both the wife and husband-- and above all else, a gross imperfection in their respectable brides.

“You wish to sleep elsewhere?” Marcus mumbles, kissing your shoulder delicately.

“No, it is not that, Marcus,” you breathe, exhaling as he traced his mouth against your neck, sending shivers along your skin. “I just… I don’t want…”

Marcus stepped back abruptly, and you turned to face him. He looked almost… guilty. “I understand, I apologize if I made it seem as if I expected... if I forced myself onto—“

“My cycle started today,” you blurt out, unable to see your fierce general appear solemn for a moment longer. You cast your eyes to the ground, picking at the skin around your nails.

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you stammer, “i-it started just now. I was never going to keep it hidden, but I was- am, simply embarrassed. You have hopes for a child, and I have not full filled that desire of yours. Women’s cycles are not desirable, and can be quite a burden—“

Marcus speaks your name with such softness that you halted your rambling, and looked up at him again.

Warm brown eyes meet yours, and where you had expected to see anger or disgust, there was only sympathy, and… amusement. He took your fiddling hands, lacing his fingers within yours.

“You must understand me,” he spoke gently. “There is no need for embarrassment, or fear. Your cycles are evidence that your body feels at ease in our marriage, that you are properly fed, fucked, and cared for. We have only been married a month, and I do not expect immediate heirs, or heirs at all if you do not wish for them. There is no desire of mine that is not satisfied in this union, for I have a beautiful wife that carries herself with grace, and elegance, and matches my taste for occasional debauchery.”

You giggle, a bashful smile creeping onto your lips.

“There it is, that smile I breathe for.”

You grin fully, and squeeze his palms in yours. “You are too kind to me, Marcus. While you speak that my cycle is nothing to be embarrassed about, I do not expect you to share my bed tonight, or for the next few. I’m sure you know how… messy, it can sometimes be. I wouldn’t wish to sully the sheets, or you, for that matter.”

Marcus peers at you, looking between your eyes like he was searching for something. A ghost of a smirk graced his lips.

His grip on your hands moved closer to your wrists, and tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you still. He brings your wrists up, holding them again your chest.

Adjusting his hold on you slightly, he keeps one palm wrapped around your wrists while the other hand reaches for the silken rope tied around his toga. Deftly, he undoes the rope, letting his toga come loose.

“Marcus, wh— what are you doing?” You asked, pulse quickening as he wrapped the rope nimbly around your wrists, tying them together while keeping plenty of slack at the end of the line.

“I wish to see for myself just how messy and sullying my wife can become,” he said, holding your gaze. “Unless you do not want me to?”

The thrill of having his hands on you like this, the silken rope of his toga binding your arms, and the lust brewing in his eyes like a dark storm… jolts of unfiltered want shoot downward, through your chest, belly, all the way into your core.

Swallowing, you nod.

Marcus walks you backward, pushing you by the wrists until your thighs meet the edge of the bed.

“Lie down, and put your hands up towards the frame of the bed,” Marcus commanded.

The general’s eyes held not the doting love of a husband, but the steely determination of a conqueror. The eyes of a warrior, a dominating force of nature, a man capable of ruination.

Desire wracked your body, and you tried to keep from trembling as you obeyed his command.

For the month of your marriage, the general had only ever been gentle with you, in both words and actions. At no point had you ever seen for yourself the fearsome general his reputation preceded him as.

But as he loomed over you now, shedding his toga and laurels, pinning you with his conqueror's eyes... this was the general the world whispered about like a god of war.

"You know what is so amusing about you, wife?" Marcus wondered aloud, moving to straddle you on the bed. Even though you were still fully dressed, and he fully nude except for a tented loincloth, he made you feel as if you'd never been more exposed with those dark eyes of his.

"What is?" You mumbled, breath catching in your throat as he reached up to tie your hands to the headboard.

Tightening the ropes, he continued on with his cavernous rasp. "I am a man that commands armies, orders slaughters, and washes his hands with the blood of men," he drawled, tilting his head to peer at you. Your blood pumped so fast through your body; his discerning stare made you wonder if he could truly hear every beat of your heart, feel every jolt of desire wracking your cunt.

Marcus pulled on the ropes binding you, shaking your wrists against the headboard. You yelped at the sudden movement, anticipation heightening your senses to every small shift.

Another dark smirk crossed his lips. "I have killed more men than I can count, and yet... you think I would shy away from a little bloodshed."

A full whimper escaped your lips at his words, blush rising to your cheeks at his knowing, devilish grin.

"Do I frighten you?" He questioned softly, glancing at your lips, your heaving chest, the pulse in your neck.

"No," you breathed.

"If you want me to stop, you will not be afraid to tell me so?"

A shake of your head. "I will tell you if I need to stop."

"Good girl."

And he melded his lips to yours.

Marcus captured your lips to his like an immortal, like he had all the time in the world. Brutal, powerful, unyielding, but slow, as if he were savoring every moment. His kiss left you breathless, needier for him by the moment, and you were already pulling on the bondage binding your wrists.

So caught up in his kiss, you forgot about his hands, and all they were capable of.

As Marcus sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, drawing a trace of blood, he ripped your stola open to reveal your peaked breasts, your nipples perking in the cold night air.

His hands immediately reached for your tits, more swollen than usual due to your cycle. His lips traced down your exposed throat, pinching your nipples slightly. A high-pitched moan escaped you, and your soaking, bloody core clenched around nothing.

"I never thought my wife capable of such sounds, but I suppose my devilry has rubbed off on you," he mumbled into your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue. The only response you could give is another unfiltered moan as he twisted your sensitive nipples again. "Such beautiful sounds you make when I am rough with you."

You gaped for breath as he sat up onto his knees once more, trailing his calloused fingers down your breasts, along your ribcage, and gripped the rip in the center of your dress.

"Shall we see what bloodlust has done to you, hm?"

Like parchment, he tore your dress completely in half, exposing your heated cunt to him. On instinct, you closed and curled your legs, hiding your wet and bloody core.

Marcus chuckled, wrapping a hand around each of your ankles in their curled position on the bed. "Pretty girl thinks she can hide from me. How cute."

Your legs tensed as he pulled them apart, your instinct to fight his advances taking over.

And a small, devilish part of you wanted to know what he would do if you tried to deny him what he so clearly wants.

"You're fighting me now?" He mused, easily prying your legs wide, his hold on your ankles unshakable.

His knees moved to rest on top of your thighs, not painful, but certainly keeping you pinned.

It distracted you for a moment where you missed the two long ropes that had appeared in his hands, the same silken rope that he uses to tie togas with.

Now, he glances up at you, not lustfully, but with a firmness, serious. "Is this something you want?"

Understanding what he meant, you swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I want this. Anything you have to give me... I want it. I want you."

Marcus groaned at the words, wrapping each of your ankles with the silken rope, and binding them to the posts of the bed.

Cool air hit your core, and you throw your head back against the pillows with both relief and slight delicious humiliation.

Knelt on the bed above you, Marcus studied your cunt with tunnel-vision focus. The world could erupt in flames around the two of you, and he wouldn't even notice.

"You've had me fooled all this time, my darling."

The rasp of desire in his voice made your toes curl.

"Here I was thinking that I could not possibly deserve a woman of such purity, such virtue," he murmured, as if he were speaking only to himself. "I believed you an angel, a nymph, a maiden of innocence, untouched by sin, or lust, but... it seems I was wrong."

He traces a finger delicately along your wet folds, making you whine with impatience. Your ankles strained against their bondage, the ropes holding firm against your skin.

You try to lift your hips, pathetically trying to create more friction against his rough fingertips, but to no success. He chuckles at the attempt, keeping his touch light against your aching cunt.

"Please... please, Marcus," you moan, chest heaving.

He cocks his head innocently and removed his finger from your skin. "Please... what?"

"Please touch me," you beg, meeting his eyes again. "Please touch me, general."

Any amusement falls from his face, replaced fully by that conqueror's gaze, the last face so many men see before they die.

Marcus plunges two fingers deep into your heated cunt, and you cry out in pleasure, desperate for more. He hooks his skilled fingers inside of you, searching for that one spot that will take you to Olympus and back.

"I was promised a noble lady as a wife," Marcus hums, pulling his fingers out of your weeping cunt slightly, "and somehow, I got a bloody whore instead, begging me to ruin her like I do battlefields."

Your cunt clenches around his fingers as he thrust back inside of you, pushing against that sweet spot of pleasure. He groans as you gush around him, pressure building at the bottom of your belly. "There it is."

The pace of his hand inside of you was brutal, punishing, and you moan and cry out, shameless. Your wrists and ankles ached deliciously, keeping you exposed, spread wide for your husband, your general.

The tipping point of your pleasure was so close, if he only were to have a bit of mercy and allow you to reach it.

"Please, general, I'm--"

He pushes in a third finger, not slowing down his pace for you to adjust.

"What is it, my darling whore?"

"I am so close, so close, please--" you whine, back arching off the bed.

As you suspected, his mercy does not come easily.

"Beg me for it," he commands, "beg for it like you would beg for your life. Beg me to finish you."

Your words come out strained with desperation. "Please, general, please, please finish me... I need it, I need you to finish me, I am so close... I'll be so good for you, general, please just finish me--"

A calloused thumb presses into your clit, and you go taut with desire. Your back arches off the bed, and your ankles pull tight against their ropes. High pitched moans escape from the depths of your throat, your cunt pulsing with relief.

He continued curling his fingers inside of you for several minutes after you finish, drawing out the release for as long as he can. It isn't until you whimper with sensitivity that he withdraws and moves to untie each of your bound limbs.

Exhaustion creeps over you, your hands and feet falling limply into the bed as he undoes the ropes and throws them onto the floor.

Propping himself onto his side, he leans over to kiss you again. This kiss was light, and loving.

"You did so well, my darling wife," Marcus praises, moving to kiss the top of your forehead. "You did perfectly."

You glance down at his groin, a tall tent risen in his loincloth. Guilt pangs at you. "You haven't--"

"I don't need to, this was about you," he says gently. "I can do it--"

"I am your wife, am I not?" You ask, your palm feather-light on his untouched cock.

He jolts from the simple touch. "Y-you are."

You lean towards him, lips brushing against his, sharing each other's breath. "A wife should serve her husband in the bedroom, should she not?"

Fast as a serpent, Marcus grips you by the shoulder, pushing you face-down into the bed. Mercifully, he leaves your hands free, and slides a folded pillow underneath your hips to allow pressure on your cramping abdomen. But this angle... your sensitive core clenches again, anticipating his cock pushing inside of you.

"Bless the gods for giving you to me," Marcus groans, not wasting a moment before the head of his cock traces up and down your already-fucked-out heat. "Your blood is mine, your desire is mine, you are mine."

A wanton moan releases from your lips as he pushes into you, the downward angle taking him deeply.

He grips your hips hard enough to leave light imprints and fucks you roughly.

"You are mine, as I am yours," he moans, his pace brutal and possessive. "It would not matter if you were a whore, or a lady, or a devil, because you are my wife."

You reach below you, propping yourself onto all fours as he pushes against your cervix and sweet spot with his godlike cock.

"You are mine, h-husband," you pant, arching your back for him, and pressing your hips harder into the pillow below. Gods, he was in your fucking stomach. "As I am yours."

You yelp in delight as he brings his hand down onto your ass, once, then twice. It sent thrills down your spine, clenching your cunt around him.

"The general and the lady," he moans, his hips beginning to lose their rhythm as he nears his edge. "The killer and the whore."

You laugh lightly, nearing the same edge but needing something else from him.

"Hit me again, please," you beg, cheeks heating. "I need it, please... hit me again."

Marcus had to hold himself back from finishing inside of you at your dirty request.

Breathless whines left you as he brought his rough hand down on you again, the sting of his killer's palm making your core gush.

Again, and again, and again, until tears streamed down your cheeks, and with each slap of his hand against your ass, angry red handprints remained in their wake.

At the delicious pain of his palms on your skin, and the unyielding pleasure of his cock pushing against your cervix, you finish with a prolonged moan, clenching around him until he reaches a breaking point.

Spilling inside of you, he pants heavily. "You are... divine."

Collapsing into the pillows with exhaustion, you smile, utterly giddy. "You flatter me, general."

Marcus cleans you up with a spare rag, blood and the remnants of your lust staining the fabric.

As soon as he falls into bed next to you, blessed sleep takes you both into dreams. Dreams of each other.

----

let me know if you enjoyed it!!

forehead kisses all around ,

gracie

[yoongihan]

Congratulations - KSM - OneShot

pairing: seungmin x female reader

genre: smutty fluff, university au,

romantic trope: Best Friend's Brother (inspiration from this reel)

word count: 2200 (at this point, this is the shortest of my stories)

rating: M for smut-adjacent (acts have already been committed and our mc thinks about them quite a bit)

warnings: language (i don't think i've ever written a fic without using 'fuck'), drinking (everyone is of age) but not wasted, penetrative safe sex has occurred, fingering has occurred, kissing, some misunderstand/not communicating, i think seungmin is pretty damn dreamy in this.

a/n: my first fic in the skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics! couple things - the parentheticals are the mc remembering what has happened, parenthetical italics are the actual flashbacks. i really really enjoyed writing this one, so i hope it's remotely as enjoyable to read. thank you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So…”

“So…”

He looks a lot different like this. The Seungmin you know usually looks very put together, no hair out of place like even the wind obeys him. He doesn’t iron his clothes or anything, but he does fold each piece really carefully (you and Soomin once watched him spend nearly four minutes on folding a polo shirt, after which you both made fun of him for a good half hour). His skin, like Soomin’s, is flawless 99% of the time, and you think you’ve seen him flush only in anger over the years. And it was never like he is now, skin almost mottled with varying hues of red and pink. His hair is all over the place, the black strands defying gravity. 

There’s definitely the beginnings of a bruise on the side of his neck.

He’s a bit of a jock, sure. You’ve watched him play baseball, but you don’t remember him breathing quite as heavily as he is right now. He is normally calm and composed, with a quick rejoinder toward Soomin and you about your most recent catastrophe at school (Science is the bane of your existence, for Soomin it’s history) or adventure in sneaking into a college party. Now you’re all at university, so any sneaking is unnecessary (and really not fun at all). 

His dark eyes are bright with something untamed, though the longer you stare at him, the more that wildness, that almost unhingedness seems to fade.

A shame, really. 

You both jump at the sound of someone in the living room, stumbling over something. The cursing that follows lets you know that it’s Changbin. 

“Seungmin,” he calls through the closed bedroom door. “You’ll have to clean up since it was your party.” Then the footsteps fade out down the hall. 

Soomin, you, and Seungmin are all in your third year. You and Soomin room together on campus while Seungmin lives off campus with Felix and Changbin. Soomin is regularly your partner when parties are the evening’s plans, but she was sick tonight.

“Go. Support my stupid brother because, and I’ll kill you if you tell him, getting an article published in The Scientific Journal for Undergraduate Research is a big deal. And I’m proud of him.”

So you do. You eat, drink, be very merry; even congratulate Seungmin with actual sincerity even though you’re sure he knows he’s that smart and probably believes it’s his due.

You may have had a few drinks, but you aren’t drunk by any means. College has definitely upped your tolerance level, so when Seungmin admits to you that he doesn’t think it’s that good of an article and that now his professors want him to be their TA and go to graduate school here and he’s not even sure he likes research that much, you put your hand on his arm, give it a squeeze and tell him that it’ll be okay. He can do anything he wants and you’ll always be impressed with him. 

(“You mean that?” he asks and you shrug, recognizing that the alcohol may have lowered your normal inhibitions.

“Of course. It’s annoying actually, how good you are at everything."

He covers your hand that’s still on his arm. “You think I’m good at everything?”

You roll your eyes, a little flustered at his singular attention and the warmth of his skin on yours. “I mean, I can hypothesize,” He smirks at your pedestrian use of scientific terminology. “I certainly don’t know all your skills.”

You both stare at each other, the unintended subtext taking effect.

“You could. If you wanted to.”)

And that’s how you end up where you are currently.

In bed with your best friend’s brother. 

“I should….” You finally look away from his still pink face, eyes dropping to that mark on his neck, courtesy of your greedy mouth. “I should go.” You turn, letting the comforter fall since your back is to him now, and grab the first discarded article of clothing you can find on the floor. As you slip it on, you recognize it’s definitely not your shirt. “Oh.”

“You can wear it.” His voice reminds you of woodworking, when you sand and sand a piece of wood until it’s smooth. His words and tone usually are so sharp, but in the quiet of his bedroom, it sounds soft. 

You yank it off and grab the black top that is actually yours, trying not to care that you are definitely naked and he can see you (where was that worry an hour ago when he was undressing you in between heated kisses?). You slide off the bed and hunt your underwear, putting those on before answering.

“Pretty sure your sister would recognize if I came home in your clothes.” Your voice is not soft and smooth at all. It’s ragged like broken glass. You can’t claim any innocence in this; you had been in your right mind, and you had wanted it. 

You had wanted Seungmin.

(Stumbling into his bedroom, his mouth and hands feel like they’re everywhere. You shove off his shirt, admiring the reveal of skin with both your eyes and hands.)

Zipping up your nice pair of jeans, you glance back over at him. He’s still sitting in his bed, sheets covering his lower half. He’s not beefy or anything, but the baseball he still plays for intramurals keeps him toned.

(He giggles when you trace a finger up his side, grabbing your hand to stop its ascent.

“Ticklish?” you ask the obvious. 

“No.” A lie. He drags your hand down to the button and zipper of his jeans. “Just want your hand somewhere else.”

You can’t really argue.)

“I…” he seems at a loss for words. Another first as far as you’re concerned. “You aren’t going to tell her?”

“God no.” You move to his desk and grab your thin cardigan, jerking it on. You can feel his gaze on you. It shouldn’t still affect you, the post-sex regrets should overwhelm any desire.

“But you two tell each other everything.”

“This would…” you trail off, watching him raise up out of bed, pulling on his boxers. You should completely not be eyeing him like this, but despite the prime opportunity you just had, you feel like it wasn’t enough. 

“This would what?”

He’s standing a few feet away from you and your brain is telling you to leave, to grab your purse that’s somewhere by the front door, and go back to campus because that’s what you do with a one-night stand. But you can’t move. 

He touches your arm as he passes to the other side of his bed, grabbing the t-shirt you discarded. You hone in on his fingers and how lightly they brush your skin.

(“You have to tell me, you know,” he says through shortened breaths. “I can’t read your mind.” 

“I thought you were good at everything?” you tease before gasping when his fingers curve just right. He does it again and your gasp is louder.

His smirk is so knowing, you would say something if you could think. “Guess you don’t have to say anything.” His kiss is far more gentle than the onslaught he's wreaking on your libido.)

“This would…I think her brain would explode, honestly. And I would prefer to keep her intact. I can’t break in a new best friend.”

He regards you thoughtfully. This is familiar. This assessing of his. You assumed he always found you wanting, but after what just happened, you aren’t so sure.

“Let me drive you back.”

He’s so hard to read. Except when he’s…

You are never going to banish those visual memories. Deep down, you admit you wouldn’t want to. 

“It’s not far.”

He sighs as he puts on his pants and says your name. “I’m not letting you walk back. It’s after two am.”

“Fuck, it is?” 

He sits back on the bed, slipping on his socks. “Yeah.”

“I can call a–”

“I’m driving you back.”

You bristle. “Look, just because we fucked doesn’t mean I start listening to you.”

“But you did,” he says easily, walking back to where you stand, now just a foot away. “Didn’t you?”

Sensations; sounds, tastes, scents flood you with just his words. Him asking you to put the condom on, to touch him, to kiss him, to stroke him. Instructing you to roll your hips just like that, to tug his hair, to let him make you feel good. 

“Well, who’s actually themselves when fucking?”

He doesn’t say anything for a second or two. “I am.” He heads toward the door. “Come on.”

You don’t want to spend money on an Uber, or walk back in the frigid cold, but you also don’t want to give in to him. 

(“Relax, pretty,” he murmurs. 

“I am.” 

He smiles warmly, eyes dark before he presses a soft kiss to your nose. “Stubborn, but I like that about you.”)

But you do.

Seungmin drives a beat-up Hyundai hybrid that you know almost as well as Soomin’s equally as beat-up truck, or your dented sedan. You slide in after letting out a sigh of relief that no one was up and about to observe your walk of shame. He turns the heat on high, before grabbing something from the back and handing it to you. It’s a hoodie. 

“I'm wearing a jacket.”

“To cover your legs. Those jeans aren’t warm.”

“How would you–” Oh right, he’d slid his hands up them to unbutton and unzip. You close your eyes tight when you think about how he’d pulled them down, letting his mouth drag along your bare legs. 

Seungmin liked using his teeth. You won’t forget that. Ever.

You set the hoodie on your lap so he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together. 

“Seatbelt.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” You go to grab it, but he leans over to do it for you, head down to click it in place. He smells like your perfume. It works for him. “I can do it myself.” You wrinkle your nose at the petulance in your voice.

He lifts his eyes to you, not moving back into the driver's seat. He’s so close, that mouth of his inches away. You could kiss him and you want to, but you don’t. 

He settles back into his seat and puts the car into reverse. He doesn’t turn on the radio, seeming to be perfectly fine with the silence.

Is he okay with the awkwardness? Probably. He would be, always perfectly comfortable when everyone else is freaking out and wondering what the fuck they were thinking and how do they salvage normalcy after something as monumental as fucking.

But you aren’t going to say anything because sex isn’t that big a deal. Even if it’s with Seungmin, your ‘ride or die’ best friend’s twin brother who you’ve always thought was cute, certainly handsome, stupid smart, and maybe a little wicked. 

His smirk is a case-study in attractive villain-smirking.

It’s no more than ten minutes to get on campus and to your dormitory. But the silence feels like the length of a director’s cut of a movie; interminable. 

He pulls up to the curb and puts the car into park, before resting his arm on the back of the passenger seat. He doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks for the ride–the ride home.” You stumble over your words because every single thing feels like it has innuendo attached. You try to compose your face before looking over at him, offering the hoodie. 

He takes it and tosses it in the back before meeting your gaze.

“You’re welcome.”

You swallow, his current tone too close to his bedroom voice. 

“And congrats again. Really.” 

“Thank you. Really.”

The repetition feels like mockery, and you glare at him instinctively. 

“Yeah, well, don’t forget us when you’re taking the science world by storm…however one even does that–”

His mouth is on yours and you’re pretty sure you squeak at the surprise, before melting into his warmth, the slick heat of his tongue, and how his hand cradles your cheek. 

“I wouldn’t forget you,” he murmurs against your lips. Another kiss, this one sweeter before he draws back. “Give me some warning if you tell Soomin, okay?”

“Why would I tell her?”

You see the movement of his throat as he swallows. “You might. Because I’m gonna ask you out in the next 24 hours and it’ll be easier to explain why you say yes if she knows.”

It takes several moments for your brain to process all that information and he’s kissing you again which halts any understanding your brain hoped to find. You don’t realize that your arms are around his neck, fingers in his hair, until he pulls back. 

“So…you’re gonna say yes?” 

You open your eyes to see that he still looks like Seungmin: a ruffled, flushed Seungmin, his eyes more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen. 

“I…”

He starts to let go of you, but your hold on him tightens. 

“Maybe make it 48 hours so she can try and wrap her mind around the fact that her bff is into her brother.”

His answering smile is so bright that you kiss him again, and it takes another five minutes before you get out of the car.

~~~ 

Soomin doesn’t combust like you expect. In fact, she raises her eyebrow and scarily looks as smug as her brother when she says: 

“About damn time.” 

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

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Let’s get it on

Pairing: Lucien Flores x afab!reader x Frankie Morales

Words count: 12779 💀 (I humbly apologize, please don’t hate me)

Rating: +18, absolutely NSFW, please if you’re a minor don’t interact.

Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears a skirt, has breast and vagina, other than that no other description is given and I made sure she doesn’t blush, she has hair but it is not described what it is like and no one runs their hand through it, unprotected p in v (it's fiction, no one gets pregnant or gets infections in this world, please use protection in real life), unprotected anal, oral (everyone receiving it LOL), spit roast, a little bit of choking (very lightly), spanking, manhandling, rough sex, masturbation, dirty talk, use of “daddy” once, mention of anxiety, mention of cheating, brief Santiago appearance, angst, fluff, Lucien, reader and Frankie are bi af ❤️, pet names (baby, kitten, good boy, princess), soft!dom Frankie, sub!Lucien, everyone is horny af, reader is basically a menace along with the guys, alcohol consumption, cum eating, cream pie, a lot of nipple play just because I love it (don’t look at me like that, boobs are gorgeous ❤️), Frankie is PEK but also a boobs man in this because I said so, frottage, pussy pronouns, balls sucking, Lucien's chain (only one, sorry) makes a series of glorious appearances *wink*…listen, I don't know what other kind of smutty things I wrote anymore, If I notice something is missing I will add it right away.

This was written for @baronessvonglitter’s Fuck-tober challenge , thank you so much for the opportunity and happy birthday again 🩷 She assigned me Lucien and the song Let's get it on by Marvin Gaye, I had a blast! And it drained me, but that was only my fault because I couldn't stop writing LOL Sorry if I've been more of a pain in the ass with this, I promise I'm done. It’s the very first challenge I’ve participated and it’s also my very first Lucien fic, I’m so nervous about it💀

As usual, English is not my first language so please be patient with me, no beta and no proofreading, I reread it a couple of times today too and I hope there are no mistakes, please forgive me if you find any.

I really hope you’ll like it!

Lucien: hey baby, long time no see, how you doing?

You: I was alright before this text came

Lucien: I know you miss me and you know that too.

You: Not even a little bit.

Lucien: baby… I’m sorry. Can we meet? Please?

You: and why on earth should I do this?

Lucien: I just want to give you back something that you left at my place.

You: fuck, okay, just one time, in a public place and don’t you dare to have expectations.

Lucien: come on, deep down you still love me.

You: sure, so deep down that I can't find it

Lucien: cruel woman. Shall we meet at the usual bar at 9?

You: I’m not the one who cheated, asshole. Fuck, ok. See you there.

You put down your phone letting out a sigh, cursing yourself for accepting to see him.

Lucien. Your ex. The unreliable man that broke your heart.

——————————

You entered the bar looking for him, scanning the place and seeing few people at the tables drinking and chatting.

He was sitting at the bar counter, rolling a bottle of beer between his fingers, staring intently ahead.

The bartender was with his back to him loading a dishwasher.

You watched him from a distance, he hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him.

He was wearing one of his colorful shirts that he wore all the time, even when you went to your mom’s for lunch on Sundays and she obviously never failed to point it out to you “Can't he just wear a normal shirt for once?”.

You didn’t know what to do about it, Lucien has always been a stubborn guy and anyway, despite what your mother said, they suited him well.

Light wash jeans hugged his legs, his hair was a little longer but as messy as you'd always seen it, and a short beard covered his cheeks and jawline leaving some patches.

You had always liked his aquiline nose, the way you felt it press against your cheek as you kissed, and even more the way it rubbed against your clit as Lucien moved down between your thighs.

You shook your head.

“This is only going to bring me trouble” you thought as you approached “well, fuck, maybe I’ll even get a decent apology” you rolled your eyes as a whiff of his perfume reached you, a perfume that you had given him before he left you and that had caused you to have one of the worst fight in history that lead into a very painful break up. It was persistent, woody, with a very fresh citrus note, quite unmistakable.

You still remember the day you entered your friend’s house and you distinctly smelled that perfume in her living room. That day you had discovered that Lucien had been cheating on you. And to add insult to injury, as soon as he had heard you enter he had hidden behind a cabinet in the kitchen like a complete idiot. It took you 30 seconds to find him. You were already suspicious seeing your friend’s messed up hair and smeared lipstick, you had asked her if she was with someone and she had replied that no, absolutely not, she was taking a nap. But you knew her well, she had never taken naps, especially in the afternoon, she was a hyperactive person who needed to keep herself busy all the time. Apparently she had found a way to do it by fucking your boyfriend.

“Hey” you nodded at him, without trying too hard. Seeing his face again was already enough to bear with.

He turned and greeted you with a smile “Hey babe” UGH. You couldn’t stand that casual innocent smile on his face.

“Lucien, if you call me babe one more time I swear I'm leaving”

He pouted, putting those puppy eyes on you that you once liked so much and now only made you angry.

“Okay, I’m going to behave, I promise. Would you just…sit down?”

You huffed “okay, just for a moment”

This bar was another place you never went back to after you broke up, you often came there together after work to have a beer and meet friends.

It was a nice bar, actually, but you had given up and now you were meeting your friends on the other side of town.

The counter was made of dark wood, as were the stools, and some industrial-design lamps hung over it, enveloping the place in a relaxed and soft atmosphere.

Frankie, the owner, was former US special forces pilot, as soon as he turned around and saw you he greeted you like an old friend “Hey beautiful, how are you?”

“I’m good Frankie, thanks, can I have a beer?”

“Blanche on tap as always?” He still remembered your usual order, which put you in a good mood despite the presence of that asshole of your ex.

“That would be wonderful, thanks” You looked at him with eyes full of gratitude.

Frankie must have understood the reason why you hadn’t come anymore and he must also have understood how little you wanted to be there at that moment.

Lucien was silent and watched you interact, you could feel his gaze still on you.

Frankie moved to pour your beer and you resigned yourself to turning to him.

“So, let me get this straight, what the hell do you want exactly?” you asked him with a serious look.

“I wanted to give you that” he replied by putting a hand in his pocket and taking out a ring you were hoping to see again.

“Oh good, finally you did something right” It was a ring that your grandmother had given you and that you cared about a lot because it was one of the few memories you had left of her. This was the measure of how little you wanted to see Lucien again, you had even given up on it.

Deep down you knew, or at least you hoped, that Lucien wouldn't get rid of it.

If he had pulled another nasty thing to you could have redone the side of his car with a key or something. He would have deserved it and wouldn't even have had right to complain.

What bothered you the most about the whole thing was that he had done everything behind your back, if he had spoken honestly to you and told you that he wanted an open relationship or if he had confessed that he wanted to leave you you would have accepted it more easily.

“I was sure you would be happy to have it back” he smiled

You had looked at him askance and replied “well then you could have done it sooner”

“I thought it was better to let some time pass” he had shrugged at which you had sighed because he wasn’t entirely wrong but you had replied peeved anyway “Six months?!”

Lucien didn't know what to say, he just stammered "s-sorry" and looked down at his legs stretched out on the stool.

You growled and rolled your eyes again, he was impossible. “I don’t think I can expect much from you though so it’s okay”

Frankie put the beer down in front of you and smiled sweetly, “here you go, I missed you by the way”

“I missed you and this place a lot too” and took a long drink, feeling the beer slide cool on your tongue.

You could see Lucien out of the corner of your eye and he was smiling, he always told you that you drink beer like no other girl which he thought was a compliment… a really poor one actually, but for some reason you liked him saying that. You were probably blinded by love, because you were really in love with him once and there was no denying that having sex with him was amazing, he always knew how to push the right buttons and make you feel incredibly sexy in his arms. Not to mention the fact that he made you squirt and that had never happened to you before.

His kisses, the way he touched you, how he knew how to use his hands on you, his amazing cock, the scent of his skin, everything about him drove you crazy.

As much as you hated to admit it, you missed him. Just for the bed part.

“What’s that pretty little head of yours thinking?” Lucien ventured, giving you a crooked smile.

You stared at the bubbles of your beer rise up the rim of the glass and get lost in the foam.

“What a shitty boyfriend you were, if you really want to know”

And how wet you made me, but you would never have told him that.

Lucien took a sip of his beer, shifted on his stool and replied, “I know. I’m sorry.”

You hummed contentedly as you took some peanuts from the small bowl Frankie had placed in front of you along with your beer. It wasn’t such a bad thing to hear him admit his flaws after all, better late than never.

“I know I was terrible to you and I don't know how you put up with me for so long,” his voice sounded strangely sincere, as if he had actually thought about what he had done wrong.

“Well, that's not bad to hear. Thank you very much” you granted him a smile, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Lucien's eyes lit up "it's nice to see you smile, finally"

You were losing it, just a little. “No no no. I won’t fall into this again.” You thought, “I won’t let it happen.”

“We’re not okay, though” you added “don't get any strange ideas”

“Of course” he smirked “Are you dating someone?”

“Actually yes,” you replied right away “a good guy.”

“Oh. And what’s his name?”

“Simon”

He chuckled, shaking his head

“What?!” you asked him, widening your eyes, “what are you laughing so much about?”

It was unbelievable how Lucien could go from melting your heart to irritating you in a matter of seconds.

“You can't be okay with someone named Simon”

“Why not?!” You frowned, looking at him, waiting for the most stupid answer ever

“Because it sounds like an accountant's name. Or that little Chipmunk guy's name. I can't believe you're happy with him”

“I am.” you replied, offended, “he’s very good. And anyway it’s none of your business”

Simon was simply the first name that came to your mind, there was no boyfriend, you just wanted to keep him from knowing you were still alone.

“So tell me,” Lucien asked, coming closer to your ear, “does he make you come like I did? I remember how you moaned while I fucked you”

You felt a jolt down your spine as his words kept reverberating in your ear and inside your brain and then you hurried to answer “Of course he does”

Lucien’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile “I don’t believe you”

Best fuck of your life but still an asshole.

“You cheated, Lucien, so you lost every chance you get over me, shut the fuck up already” you snapped, almost on the verge of tears.

You held back with all your strength to not give him the satisfaction.

Frankie turned to you immediately “Hey, it’s all good? Should I kick his ass out?” He asked looking grimly at Lucien.

“Thank you Frankie, there’s no need, I’m going home”

You took your wallet out of your bag to pay but Frankie waved his hand in the air “no way, it's on the house”

“Well, thank you then. I hope to see you soon, without this asshole around” you squinted at Lucien who seemed finally mortified.

Being with him was like riding a roller coaster, it was fun and breathtaking and then in an instant there would be a downhill slope and everything would go to hell.

You rushed out after saying hello to Frankie again and completely ignoring your ex.

Lucien followed you after leaving some money on the counter under Frankie’s stern gaze.

He grabbed your wrist and you glared at him “I know, okay, I’m an asshole, I didn't want to make you suffer! I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I’m sorry about everything”

“Well you could have not acted like an idiot in the first place. We’re done, Lucien, let go off my wrist” you didn't even raise your voice, you used a coldness that surprised you.

You turned and walked away without even listening to him anymore.

You were tired, so damn tired. You just needed to go home.

_____________________

It had been a horrible day at work, your boss had loaded you with deadlines and you had left the office after 2 hours of overtime with your head exploding. On your way home you thought that after a day like that you really deserved a beer and without thinking twice, instead of going home, you headed to Frankie's bar.

It was Friday night, after all.

You entered the bar, pushing your way through the crowd to reach the counter. The place was full and Frankie was busy.

As soon as he saw you, his eyes lit up under the cap he never took off and he smiled at you “It’s so nice to see you again!”

You smiled back thinking how stupid you were tm so never have noticed how cute Frankie was before.

He placed a beer and a small bowl of peanuts in front of you without you having to ask.

“Frankie, you’re my savior” you told him, noticing his beautiful brown eyes, his strong nose just like you loved in a man, his lips and jawline made to be kissed.

He was gorgeous.

“Don’t mention it, knowing what others want is my job after all” his mouth curved into a soft smile and you felt something, like a little fire that was ignited inside you.

You sat there exchanging jokes with him between one cocktail and another that he prepared.

He was funny and kind and you loved spending time with him.

When the place had started to empty a little, it was already 1am, Frankie had poured himself some whiskey and leaned against the bar counter in front of you.

He looked tired too.

“The bar is really doing well, isn't it?” you said “you should hire someone to help you”

He smiled “Santiago took a share, he'll help me from next week. You remember him, right?”

You nodded. You had met Santi one evening when you were there with your friends. He was a nice guy, a former special forces agent just like Frankie.

“Great!”

“Listen…” Frankie hesitated for a moment “I don’t want to sound cheeky but… would you like to go out sometime?”

You looked at him, saw his hopeful look, and agreed. He was too handsome to say no.

You both smiled and you ended up helping him set up the bar while the jukebox played old rock songs.

You felt at ease with Frankie, the horrible day you had just had no longer mattered.

When the last chair had been turned upside down on the tables and the floor had been cleaned, you went out into the back alley to throw out the garbage.

“What do you say about Monday? It's my day off,” Frankie suggested.

“I think it’s perfect”

Frankie’s gaze lingered on you, making you hot and bothered.

You had moved closer to him, just an inch from his face and you had placed a hand on his broad chest, letting it slide slowly over his shirt “I don't want to seem cheeky but… could I kiss you?” you asked him raising your chin and watching him through your lashes.

Frankie chuckled “Hey. You're good, miss. Sure you can.”

As soon as you put your lips on his you felt it, a rush of adrenaline that went through your entire body. That dark alley wasn't exactly the most romantic place in the world but when you kissed him it seemed special. Frankie returned your kiss on the lips a couple of times, as if he was respectfully trying to understand how far he could go.

You pulled him by his shirt to bring him closer to you and deepened the kiss.

Your tongue caressed his lips and he didn't have to be asked twice, he let you in immediately and wrapped his arms around your waist.

Frankie was different from Lucien's, your ex was greedy and impatient, it almost seemed like he was in a hurry while kissing you.

Frankie took his time, tasted you like a ripe fruit, licked inside your mouth expertly, knew exactly what dance he wanted to involve your tongue in, tenderly nibbled your lower lip.

You felt your knees buckle, as his hands slowly moved towards your ass, you placed yours on his to invite him, to give him silent consent, and you moaned into his mouth when his big hands squeezed your ass cheeks.

You pushed him against the wall, sliding a hand between you and touching his erection over his jeans.

Frankie chuckled, his voice hoarse “hey, someone’s hungry”

“I haven’t eaten,” you replied, pouting and then bursting into laughter. Frankie pulled you back into his embrace, kissing you again, trailing down your jaw and then your neck.

You moaned again.

“Well, you should eat something. There’s a place around here, they make amazing tacos, how about that?”

“I prefer to eat you” you replied mischievously, fumbling with his belt, Frankie looked at you in ecstasy. You took his cock in your mouth right there in that alley, dirtying your knees on the asphalt without caring. He was big, about the same size as Lucien, it pulsated deliciously on your tongue and you greedily swallowed every drop of his cum.

You started dating that same Monday, he took you out to dinner and you ended the night at his house where Frankie served you three orgasms with his mouth.

It had been unbelievable, Lucien was good at it but Frankie put a special dedication into licking you like he was pussy drunk and determined to giving you the best experience you could have had.

That evening, held in his arms, your face resting on his chest, you felt completely satisfied after a long time.

______________

You hadn't heard from Lucien for three months, you and Frankie were dated regularly and you really liked how your story was going. One day he took you flying in a helicopter. Seeing him focused, capable, totally immersed in his element made you so excited that as soon as you got off the ground you fucked him in his car, in the parking lot, with the risk that someone would catch you in the act.

He was a fantastic man, passionate, attentive and caring.

You had forgiven Lucien after all, if he hadn't asked you to see each other, your story with Frankie would never have started.

You often went to Frankie's bar after work, sat down for a drink and chatted with him and Santi, who in the meantime had started working there.

One evening while you were laughing together Lucien came in. You muttered an “oh no” under your breath looking at Frankie who immediately put a hand on top of yours resting on the counter and squeezed it as if to tell you to stay calm.

Santi exclaimed “Hey! What are you doing here?!”

You and Frankie simultaneously turned to him with wide eyes “do you know him?”

And Santi laughed and shrugged answering “of course! He’s my cousin!”

Lucien was as surprised as you were to see you all there together.

You had never met Lucien’s cousins, he had barely introduced you to his mother and only because she had insisted. He had always been elusive, you should have known from the beginning how it would end between you.

You certainly didn't want an official engagement either, anyway.

“Why the hell are you here, cousin?” Lucien said scratching his head.

“I work here, idiot, I even told you last week at your mom’s lunch but I’m not surprised you didn’t listen.”

You giggled at Santi’s reprimand, looking at Frankie and squeezing his hand tighter. You were so glad to be with an uncomplicated man like him.

Frankie promised you something and did it, he made a date with you and showed up on time, he showered you with attention and always thought of your pleasure before his own.

“Sit down, I'll pour you a beer” Santi said and moved to the tap.

Silence fell between the three of you, until Lucien broke it by noticing the way you were caressing Frankie's hand, making small concentric circles with your thumb on the back of his hand.

”So he’s your new boyfriend? Wasn’t his name Simon?”

“It didn’t work with Simon, Frankie is much better anyway,” you looked at him tenderly and his eyes returned yours with a sparkle under the peak of his cap.

“I’m glad,” Lucien simply said, looking at Frankie and then at you. Maybe he had finally learned to behave in a civil manner.

Santi placed a beer in front of his cousin and asked “so do you like this place?”

“Sure, I've been coming here long before you started working there. She and I used to come together all the time.”

Santi finally understood your triangle. “But you…” he said pointing to you “and him” pointing to Frankie and you nodded “but before you were with him… ok I understand”

Lucien laughed “it’s not that weird, you know”

And you thought that no, it actually wasn't, because of the state of mind you were in. You were very calm, finally, and Lucien's presence didn't bother you at all.

You spent the evening together, while Santi and Frankie served cocktails, chatting and laughing.

At the end of the evening you insisted on staying to help clean up despite Frankie and Santi's protests, so Lucien also felt compelled to volunteer.

“You'll finally do something useful, cousin.” Santiago said and you all laughed, including Lucien.

You and Frankie went home around 2am, while you were thinking about how tired you were he pushed you on his bed, his eyes locked on yours as he stripped you of your jeans and panties and spread your legs.

You just can’t resist when Frankie’s eyes darken in that particular way, as if he felt the intrinsic need to make you come. That night you also read something else in his gaze, the need to claim you as his.

“You really have the most beautiful cunt I've ever seen, do you know that darling? Who does this pussy belong to? hm?”

“It's yours” you managed to say as you took off his trusted baseball cap throwing it on the floor “it’s all yours”

He drowned in your pussy, coating your folds in his saliva, his tongue frantically moving up and down and his fingers teasing your entrance. He nuzzled at your clit, making you squirm with the tip of his nose bumping into your harden bud again and again.

You raised your gaze so as not to miss a single movement of his tongue and his hungry lips that were drinking from your most intimate part.

“Fuck, you’re so good at doing it, Frankie, oh my god” you whined, lacing your fingers with his soft raven curls, he smirked against your skin and kept licking you until you were an incoherent hot mess just babbling his and god name in a blissful state.

“I need you” you pleaded “please Frankie, give me your cock”

He lifted himself up to your mouth and kissed you, letting you taste your essence from his lips while with one hand he spread your lips and his tip began to push inside you.

“Fuck, you’re drenched” and you nodded completely incapable of putting together a meaningful sentence.

He filled you up, accompanying the last thrust with a groan, and waited just long enough for you to get used to his intrusion before starting to pump in and out of you with a steady pace.

Sex with Frankie was nurturing in a way that surprised you, he really took care of you, making you feel safe every step of the way, every thrust into you like a kiss on your cervix and a caress to your soul, you never experienced something so endearing before.

He really was the perfect partner and you’re never felt so lucky in your life.

———————————————

Three more months passed since the first evening spent with Frankie, Lucien and Santi at the bar and it became an habit almost every weekend, Lucien showing up late, you making fun of him and generally having a great time together chatting and laughing. Sometimes you invited some friends and one of them ended up having a huge crush on Santi.

You were happy to see them exchanging languid glances and withdrawing from you to chat alone. Claire, your best friend, confessed to you that she was crazy about Santi after almost a month and you were not at all surprised.

“I’ve noticed the way you two look at each other for a while now,” you laughed “it’s time you decided to go out alone.”

“Oh, we will, next Monday.”

You hugged her chirping “I’m so glad for you dear, you truly deserve the best! And Santiago is such a great guy!”

“I know!” She smiled “he’s so sweet and kind and such a menace sometimes, I just fell head over heels without even realizing it”

That was perfect, you with Frankie and your best friend with Frankie’s best friend, like every rom com that you loved rewatching for comfort at which Frankie laughed so hard at.

You couldn't wait to tell him that sometimes it really happened.

——————————

You were tidying up as usual, listening to music from the jukebox. It was two in the morning on a Friday like any other, since you were with Frankie your hours of sleep had decreased a bit but sleeping in his arms guaranteed you a deeper, more peaceful rest.

You and Frankie had celebrated your first six months together with a dinner earlier that week followed by two hours of intense, animalistic, intoxicating sex.

Lucien had seen you fall more and more in love, he had seen the way you looked at him, how you always sought physical contact, even if it was just intertwining your fingers with his, it was obvious that Frankie made you happy.

You would have been lying to yourself if you said you didn't feel anything for him anymore but Lucien made you lose the ground under your feet.

You needed someone stable, Frankie was your rock while Lucien was a dizzying amount of a person.

You were taking out a bag of garbage when you heard noises in the alley and low voices.

You looked out the back door curiously and saw Frankie and Lucien talking in the shadows. You stood still behind the half-closed door trying to listen. They hadn’t noticed you.

“We should tell her,” Frankie said and Lucien replied, “not now, please, she would never forgive me.”

“Lu, I love her, do you understand? I don’t want to hurt her.”

Lucien nodded “I know Frankie, you think I don’t care about her? But if we tell her now she’ll think it’s my fault, please. We’ll find a way, I promise”

Lucien rested his hands on Frankie’s forearms, caressing him and bringing his hands to his, clenched into fists along his sides “come on, don’t do that”

You were paralyzed. What was it that they couldn’t tell you? And why did Frankie and Lucien seem so close when in front of you they just acted cordially and threw each other the occasional barb?

You thought they were united by their affection for you and Santiago and tolerated each other for your sake but at that moment you weren't sure anymore.

Your blood froze in your veins when you saw Lucien approach Frankie and kiss him.

It was something you never thought you’d see in your life and most of all you never thought Frankie would do something like that behind your back. “Stop it Lu. I told you, I won’t do anything until we tell her. Kissing the other day was a mistake, I can’t forgive myself for that” he pushed Lucien away “and how can you think of doing it again? Have some respect for her and for yourself”

You couldn't see Frankie's gaze in the dim light but you knew it was similar to the first time he realized Lucien had cheated on you. You were relieved, Frankie hadn't given in, hadn't made the same mistake, because he knew how you felt.

Lucien blurted out “Look, I love her too, I don't want to be an asshole again but you also know how I feel about you. And I know you feel the same, idiot. Don't try to put all the blame on me, there are two sides to every ditch and I didn’t dig alone. Your lips were on mine the other day and I felt your hard cock okay?!”

Lucien had a desperate tone that you had only heard him use when he had tried to apologize to you months before.

You were speechless. If you had to be honest with yourself, you had noticed certain looks but you had never interpreted them.

Frankie pushed Lucien by the shoulders pinning him against the wall “Listen to me, idiot. You were the one who kissed me first. It’s incredible that you don’t even know how to take responsibility for yourself.” Lucien’s feet barely touched the ground from the way your boyfriend was slamming him into the bricks of the wall. “You may have been the first man who made me hard but that’s it and you know why? You will never ruin what I have with the best girl I’ve ever met. I want her to be part of this. Either that or we do nothing.”

He had moved away from Lucien to go back inside, you quickly left the garbage in the closet so you wouldn’t get caught, you would throw it out later with an excuse.

You walked over to the bar and poured yourself a shot of whiskey, downing it in one gulp. “Hey, where were you?” Santi asked as he came back through the front door. He had gone out to take Claire to get a taxi.

“I went to the bathroom,” you lied, and Santi raised an eyebrow, looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine, don't worry.”

You put the glass in the dishwasher and loaded it, mulling it over in your head as Santi talked about how great the night had been. He counted the takings sitting at the counter while the jukebox played Bruce Springsteen's Hungry Hearts.

You had always known that Lucien was bisexual, you were too. You had a girlfriend for a couple years in college and it had been a great relationship.

It must have been the first time it happened to him, you couldn't think of any other explanation.

“I want her to be a part of this” Frankie’s words were still ringing into your head.

You giggled unknowingly at the thought of Frankie being excited for another man, it was… sexy.

“Hey!” Santi snapped his fingers in front of your eyes “are you still here with us?”

“Yes” you quickly answered.

Santi chuckled “what was that little smile for?”

“Oh nothing, I was thinking about Frankie” it wasn’t entirely a lie, you were thinking about him. And Lucien. And the three of you together. It intrigued you more than you were willing to admit.

“You two lovebirds are so cute” Santi mocked you and you didn’t mind at all.

Frankie came back followed by Lucien “Are you ready to go home, baby?”

“Yes, I’ll take this to the closet and I’m ready” You lifted the first case you saw behind the counter hoping that it actually belonged there.

“Let me do it” Frankie suggested but you immediately replied “no love, I can do it, don’t worry, I’ll be right back” you smiled and gave him a kiss and then you headed towards the closet.

You picked up the garbage you had left there and went out into the alley to throw it away. You took a long sigh, feeling your cheeks hot as you thought back to the scene you had seen. You didn’t know what would happen but you had faith in Frankie, he would fix everything.

You went back inside. Lucien sat silently in the corner, looking back and forth between you and Frankie, and now you could see longing in his eyes. He looked at Frankie almost as you did.

Your heart fluttered.

————————————————-

After two days of silence you were ready to snap at Frankie. Why the hell didn't he tell you the truth? You could see his gaze drop every time you mentioned Lucien in a conversation and you knew he had the speech he wanted to give you on the tip of his tongue.

You were pissed, but you tried to stay calm.

You couldn't believe Frankie wasn't being honest with you about this when he had talked to you about much more serious things, opening up to you with simplicity. He had told you about his previous job, about the anxiety attacks it had left him with.

He had been in therapy for years and dropped out because of this.

Santiago was the person who helped him face reality, he never abandoned him and Frankie said he owed him his life. The reason he opened the bar was because they had always talked about it “we’re going to open a bar and we won’t have to deal with this shit anymore”. They had always said that and it had become a kind of mantra that had kept Frankie afloat every time he thought he was sinking into anxiety.

He was a new person now and you were lucky enough to find him.

You didn't want to lose him and you certainly wouldn't have tolerated it happening because of Lucien.

You wanted so badly to trust that Frankie would tell you about it sooner or later.

And then there was something else and you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t get the way he had pushed Lucien against the wall out of your head.

Lucien was not small and yet he seemed light as a feather under Frankie's hands.

Was that his real strength? He had obviously never used it with you and you had asked yourself many times what those powerful arms were capable of doing.

In addition to that, you couldn't stop thinking about you, Frankie and Lucien in the same bed. It was your’s greedy brain fault.

You felt guilty because Frankie never failed to please you. At the same time, however, you imagined what it would be like if Lucien had also entered the picture.

Frankie wanted it too after all, he had said so.

By the end of the week you were so pent up by all scenarios you imagined that you actually prayed for Frankie’s confession.

“Frankie” you said on Friday morning, after a night spent at this place sleeping in his arms “we need to talk”

His fingers began to fidget on the kitchen table where you were both sitting having a cup of coffee and some pancakes that you made from scratch.

“About what?” He asked

You swallowed air, carefully choosing your words “Well, I saw something last Saturday night” and he widened his eyes knowing already what you meant. You could see fear in his look so you instinctively brought your hand over his nervously tapping on the table’s wood.

“Don’t worry” you tried to reassure him “I don’t want to break up with you. I love you Frankie, and you can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

Frankie looked pale and concerned “Yes baby but that was so bad. I don’t know what to say”

“Truth is fine” you suggested and he nodded, taking a long breath “yeah, you deserve it so here it is. Lucien kissed me once, about two weeks ago and then again on Saturday. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was scared. It’s just that… I also didn’t know I was into men before. I swear it’s the first time that happened to me but I felt something. Something strong, actually. I was so confused but more than anything else I don’t want to hurt you. I love you, no matter how many men I could find attractive, you’re the most important person in my life.”

Your heart melted instantly at the puppy eyes look that he gave you.

“I trust you. I wish you had told me right away because you know I can understand, but if it was your first time I guess you needed time to process it.”

“Yeah” he murmured softly “but I’m sorry anyway”

“It’s okay. Actually… I don’t mind the idea”

Frankie spat the coffee he was drinking back in his cup “What?”

“Yeah” you admit “I mean… it’s hot” and you felt your cheeks burn at the revelation.

Frankie smirked, looking at you with that particular gaze in his eyes that you recognized as horniness “you would love to fuck both of us, don’t you? Naughty girl”

“I’d love to have a threesome, yeah” you cooed, approaching him and sitting on his lap. You put your arms around his neck and kissed him, you felt his hands wandering on your back and hold you tight.

“What have I done to have a woman like you? Really, I’m the luckier motherfucker that ever existed”

You kissed him again losing yourself at the sensation.

____________________

You saw Lucien at the bar that evening.

Santi was busy making drinks across the counter, Claire was sitting in front of him, Frankie was in the back getting a keg of beer to replace the one that finished.

You were sitting next to each other and you could feel the tension rising in your chest.

Lucien, oblivious to everything, smiled at you and told you about a movie he had just seen.

You hadn’t been this nervous in his presence since you first met and you couldn’t stop staring at the gold chain around his neck. It made you wet to think at the way the accidentally hit your face while he pumped into you.

You'd never liked it on anyone but him, just as you'd never liked anyone who wore a baseball cap all the time before you met Frankie. They were your exceptions.

You were imagining Frankie being hit while Lucien fucked him. Each time they hit your lip or chin the sudden pain turned into pleasure and that little moment had become part of your sexual routine.

The kiss you had seen, though chaste and hasty, had uncovered a series of needs inside you that you hadn't even expected. You had been seething inside all week and talking about it with your boyfriend had only partially calmed you down.

“Lucien” you said “I need to tell you something”

“Just tell me” he grinned, you could see from his expression that he wasn’t expecting anything you were about to say.

“Maybe it’s better if we go out” you sighed, getting up from the stool.

Lucien followed you with a questioning look on his face, you made your way through the crowd to the exit and you leaned against the outside wall of the place, standing on the pavement, while he looked at you “so, what do you have to tell me?”.

You twisted your hands nervously as you searched for the words. “I… I saw you. You and Frankie” you spat suddenly, not finding another way to say it.

Lucien immediately became alarmed and started babbling “oh, no, listen, it’s not what you think… I mean… nothing serious happened, I would never do something like that behind your back again, I know you’re happy with him and I don’t want to ruin it, please believe me. It was just a kiss”

“I know. Frankie told me” you said, firmly “I can't exactly say the same about you but I trust him”

Lucien looked down, as if he was scanning the pavement for who knows what. “I… I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t want to take him away from you. The thing is… I realized how happy you were and first I envied you…And one day… I saw Frankie looking at me and I… I messed up, please forgive me, I’ll never kiss him again.”

You watched him simmer and feel ashamed and you were almost tempted to leave him like that, without saying anything else, as punishment for what he had put you through months before.

You smirked “Lucien” and he wouldn’t stop piling up excuses “Lucien! Shut up and listen to me!” you snapped

“Okay” he replied continuing to inspect the sidewalk.

“Frankie I are inseparable, you know. But… we can try something, if you want”

You locked eyes with his and watched as his expressions changed from confused to intrigued. “What?” he asked, with a crooked smile.

You knew he already understood but he was dying to hear you say it.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed at seeing him gloat like that. “I can’t stand you when you do that.”

“Like what?” he pressed, moving closer to you.

“Like… you are, God, you are so arrogant. You make me regret my own thoughts.”

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered into your neck. He was dangerously close, you were practically trapped between him and the wall. If there was one thing that would never change, it was Lucien’s ability to make you feel like you were playing with fire.

“I want… the three of us…”

“What?” he insisted “say it”

“I want us to have sex, okay, the three of us. together” you squealed.

Lucien looked into your eyes, searching your gaze, you felt like you had confessed a sin. “Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. Interesting.”

“Stop gloating and tell me what you think,” you protested, arms crossed over your chest.

Lucien took your hands and brought your arms down your body, pressing you against the wall and whispering in your ear, “I’m in. Whenever you want.”

“You’re a slut, you know that, huh?”

“Hey! You suggested it, okay? And what can I do, I like to fuck with people who turn me on. So tell me sweetie, when are we doing it?“

“Tonight,” you answered instinctively, the desire to kiss him eating you up and the thought of seeing him with Frankie occupying every part of your brain.

“Woah, you’re not wasting your time.”

“You know I never liked it,” you replied, looking at him through your lashes.

Lucien had always awakened a primal instinct in you, maybe it was his disheveled look, the shirts he always wore open partially revealing his chest, the smell of his skin, the way his beard nipped your cheeks as he kissed you, you didn’t know, but you felt it strongly every time he got closer than he should have.

You came back in and your gaze immediately searched for Frankie, you saw him behind the counter and you slipped in, grabbing him by the waist “you know you can’t stay here” he warned you tenderly, placing his hands on yours “be good and go back to your stool”.

You moved in front of him and looked him intensely in the eyes.

He was so beautiful, so sweet, so attractive that you would have covered him in kisses right there, in front of everyone.

“It’s done. For tonight.” you cooed, winking at him.

Frankie smiled “you’re a little schemer, you know that?” And he kissed you, giving you a pat on the ass immediately after “Good. I can’t wait. Now get out of here”.

You dutifully went to sit down and did nothing but watch him and Lucien alternately for the rest of the evening, reading anticipation on their faces, feeling impatient and excited. You could hardly believe that this was going to happen, and yet you were one step away from having sex with both of them and you had wanted it.

______________

Santi went home with Claire leaving the three of you alone, he looked at you a little suspiciously because normally you would have protested at the fact that he was running off with his girlfriend leaving you to clean up.

He didn't know what you had in mind but he wasn't stupid anyway and he had surely noticed the glances you had exchanged all evening.

He turned around before leaving and smiled saying "have fun”

Once you were alone, a strange energy spread through the bar. No one knew how to make the first move. Lucien was babbling about the beer bottles left lying around, Frankie was busy sweeping every corner, you were lounging at the counter, rubbing the surface with cloth and detergent as if you had to mirror yourself on the wood.

You had to do something to warm up the atmosphere. You put away the cloth, washed your hands and armed with courage you took a coin from your wallet and headed towards the jukebox. You were looking for a song that could give you the push to take the initiative.

You chose Let’s get it on. Marvin Gaye. “A classic always works. It has to work.” you thought. You turned and looked around the place. The dim lights, the smell of whiskey, lime and beer, the little couches scattered around in the corners, the old jukebox, it was a place you knew like the back of your hand and it made you feel comfortable.

It was nice to watch your boys move around in there, confident and relaxed, it had been for all the nights you’d spent there.

You were pleasantly tipsy, not so much that you were drunk but enough to feel brave.

You could have done it. With the song playing in the air, warm and sensual, you felt ready.

You went to your rock first. You walked over to Frankie smiling at his obsessive sweeping of the same spot for the past 5 minutes.

“Hey. I think it’s clean.”

"You say?" Frankie leaned the broom against the wall, laughing, welcoming you into his arms immediately after. You rested your face on his plaid shirt, inhaling his scent, that intoxicating scent of tobacco and leather that you loved so much.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” You murmured in his chest.

“I know, baby, I love you too”

You raised your chin and looked him in his beautiful chocolate eyes, he moved his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb on your skin.

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met” he said. You didn't know how but Frankie had the extraordinary talent of always saying what you needed to hear.

And he said it in a way, with that deep, slightly hoarse voice that made you tingling inside every single time.

You kissed him, savoring him slowly, his tongue brushing your lips, making room into your mouth, intertwining with yours. Frankie deepened the kiss, holding you tight.

You moaned softly into his mouth, reaching out to take off his hat and burying a hand in his hair.

“Interesting song choice,” Frankie whispered, moving his hands to your ass and squeezing “Shall we go home?”

“Yes in a little while, let me dance with you some more” Frankie chuckled, holding you close and starting to swing with you, your bodies pressed and rubbing together.

Lucien came up behind you. ��Can I join?” he asked mischievously.

His arms were on Frankie’s, you were deliciously snuggled between the two of them as the three of you moved your hips in unison.

You were silent, still moving, your breaths growing together.

Lucien's hands wrapped around Frankie's strong biceps were a perfect sight. Sandwiched between the two of them, you felt exactly how you imagined.

Hot, confident, eager.

Lucien was the first to break the silence, you felt him half-hard against your ass.

“At my place or yours?” he asked Frankie smirking

“At my house. It’s closer” he replied immediately.

You pulled away and looked into each other's eyes. "Are we sure we want to do this?" Frankie asked.

“I think… yeah” you were hopeful that neither of them had changed their minds and Lucien nodded “Yes, I’m more than sure” and accompanied the sentence with a caress on your arm.

“Do you still want it, Frankie?” And he nodded too saying “of course”

“Come here,” you waved them both closer together and put a hand on the back of their heads, making your mouths collide, a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues.

Lucien's lips were impatient and needy on one side, Frankie's ones expert and sweet on the other. And you in the middle. You no longer knew who was licking whose lips, your saliva and your mixed flavors were intoxicating.

You pulled away and panted “let’s go.”

The song that had accompanied your kisses had ended, leaving a trail of desire.

You reached Frankie's truck hugging each other, Frankie and Lucien's hands intertwined behind your back.

You sat down in front next to Frankie, taking Lucien's hand that was hanging from behind on your shoulder and caressing it while with the other you squeezed Frankie's thigh, slowly moving up towards the crotch of his jeans.

He squinted at you “what are you doing, babe?”

You batted your eyelashes “nothing” and then chuckled softly.

“Well, this nothing is sending me out of space”

Lucien laughed in the backseat as you finally approached Frankie’s house.

As soon as you entered Lucien pushed you against the wall and kissed you “god, I missed your lips”

You smiled, holding on to Frankie's shirt and pulling him close to you.

Frankie's hand hugged your hip feverishly, moving up to your breast, his palm open on your shirt, right on your hardened nipple stiffing against your lacy bra.

Lucien continued his lustful path up your jaw, down the column of your neck, sucking the soft skin and smoothing it with his tongue.

Frankie kneaded your breasts with one hand while squeezing your butt with the other until he grunted “Take off your clothes, baby”

Lucien pulled away, looking at you expectantly.

You smiled at both of them, standing in front of you waiting to see your naked body appear before their eyes.

You took off your shirt, throwing it on Frankie who smiled catching it and bringing it to his nose to inhale your scent.

You could see that light in his eyes, that spark of desire that always shone when he wanted you desperately.

You continued your undressing by unhooking your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Their eyes were fixed on your nipples stiffen in the air.

Lucien instinctively took Frankie's hand and squeezed it tightly, wincing.

“You are always as I remembered you. Gorgeous,” he muttered and a rush of pride rose up to your chest.

“Yes? Touch me,” you invited him.

Lucien’s hand tremblingly approached your waist, moving up along it, stopping at the side of your breast. With his thumb he reached your nipple, brushing it with the tip of his finger.

He freed himself from Frankie's grip and took his hand again, placing it on the crotch of his jeans, turning to give him a crooked smile full of silent requests.

Frankie smiled at him, embarrassed but horny, moving his hand up and down the outline of his cock. It was a new sensation for him, he seemed totally enraptured by it.

Lucien didn't stop caressing you, a moan escaped his lips, his eyes moving alternately between you and Frankie.

Frankie in turn raised a hand to touch your other breast, you wriggled in your guys's hands, so different and yet so enhancing, both of them.

Your guys… it was so strange to think about but that's what they were in that moment. Yours, all yours.

Lucien urged you, “Why don’t you take off your skirt too, princess?”

You didn't need to be told twice, you pulled down the side zip and let it slide down your hips.

“Mmm you’re wearing my favorite panties” Frankie whispered and Lucien echoed “I remember them well. I loved the curve of your ass tight in those panties”

They looked at each other pleased and in a fit of need they exchanged a kiss. Seeing their beards rubbing against, their tongues chasing, their hungry lips capturing each other and hear them moaning into each other’s mouth was too much.

You moaned, your eyes hypnotized in front of that vision. Everything you had imagined took shape in front of you, it was like a dream from which you prayed never to wake up.

“God…” Frankie muttered “let’s go to my room”

————————————————————

You had always liked Frankie's room, it was simply furnished but comfortable.

There was a large bed right in the center, with a beautiful blue duvet that you loved, it was wonderful to cuddle up there with him.

Frankie pushed you gently against it, inviting you to sit down. He turned to Lucien, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt, looking into his eyes. Lucien was looking back at him intently.

Once undone, Frankie ran a hand over his neck, tangling his fingers in his chain, letting it slide down his chest, until it reached his jeans. He fumbled with the button, then pulled down the zipper, and let them slide down his hips. Lucien helped him by stepping on them and pulling them off his ankle, then kicking them to the floor.

He took off his shirt and threw it in a corner. He was naked except for a pair of black boxers that barely contained his erection.

Your gaze wandered on his sculpted chest that ended in a slightly soft, delicious belly, which you had always loved to nibble and you felt your panties getting wet at the sight.

Frankie was the only one still dressed at that point so you urged him “Undress, love, we want to see you”

You could recognize a hint of uncertainty in his eyes but you knew he wanted it. He wanted it so badly that his cap had been left behind at the bar and it was the first time that had happened.

He took off the flannel shirt he was wearing over a T-shirt.

Lucien sat down next to you, letting his fingers slide down your arm.

Frankie pulled his shirt off his neck, leaving his chest bare. You had a thing for his nipples, small, pink, sweet as honey under your tongue. You loved playing with them, and Frankie went crazy every time you did it, even if he wouldn’t admit it openly.

“Come here,” you asked, and he leaned in. You reached up and took one of his nipples between your fingers, pinching it.

Lucien chuckled as Frankie squirmed under your touch “he likes it huh? Good to know”.

Frankie glared at him, “only she can do that,” and Lucien pretended to agree with a clearly amused tone, “yes, of course.”

Frankie snorted, before reaching down and grabbing your knees, spreading your legs “let me see her”.

He reached for the lace of your panties, rubbing it against your folds, wetting the fabric further. “Oh yes, that’s what she needed.”

“She needs you always” you moaned.

“I know. Lie down, love, I want to give her everything she wants” he replied under his breath.

Lying on the bed, you felt Frankie's hands hook around the edges of your panties and you lifted your hips slightly to allow him to pull them down.

He began kissing your inner thigh, lingering on your skin, trailing up towards your groin.

Lucien lowered himself to one of your breasts and licked the areola all around, deliberately avoiding the nipple, looking at you with a knowing smile.

The moment Frankie dipped his fingers between your folds Lucien took your nipple into his mouth, starting to suck slowly.

They worked in sync, your boyfriend between your thighs and your ex on your tit, it felt like they were everywhere, all over your body, ready to taste every part of you.

Frankie’s fingers gathered your arousal to your clit, surrounding it with two fingers shaped in a V and stroking it up and down.

You whined their name, both of them.

Lucien was sucking at your nipple like a madman, pinching and twisting the other one with his fingers.

He parted for a moment just to ask Frankie to stop. Frankie interrupted his careful work around your clit and folds with a grunt “what do you want?”

“It will take me just a second” Lucien wetted two of his fingers with your juice and then he spread it out on your nipple, motioning in circles and then sucking at it again. “mmm even better, babe, I can taste how sweet your are on your fucking beautiful tit”.

It was something he enjoyed doing and it always made your head spin. He moaned loudly sucking at your nipple like that, overwhelmed by the new flavor on it.

Frankie returned down to lick your pussy, up and down, precise, calm, relentless. No one could do it like him, not Lucien, not anyone else you’d ever had.

His hands squeezed your thighs, holding them wide, his tongue lapped flat between your outer lips and when he reached your clit he took it between his lips, sucking it.

“Oh my god, it feels so good” you whine

“I can never get enough of your sweet little pussy,” he whispered between licks.

Your hand disappeared between his dark curls, pushing him towards your pussy, inviting him to dive even deeper and when you felt his tongue pushing your entrance you encouraged him to fuck you with it “more baby, give me more” and Frankie nudged into your hole continuing to take care of your clit with his fingers and then alternating sucking and stroking, until two of his fingers were inside of you and he curled them in a way he knows he was making you crumble.

Lucien was cupping your tit, caressing it with his hand and tongue, his beard gently brushing it, giving you extra stimulation.

They didn’t stop until you were a mess of whimpers and beg, you felt your essence running out of you, Frankie’s mouth catching every drop of it expertly, obscene squelch coming out of you as you clenched around your boyfriend’s big fingers.

“Give it to me, baby, give it all to me” Frankie incited you while you felt your orgasm flooding through your body, making you quiver.

Lucien slipped between your legs “I wanna taste her a little more, please” asking your boyfriend’s permission which drove you absolutely crazy, Frankie made room for him by placing himself next to you and as he continued on your bundle of nerves with his thumb, Lucien licked you clean, drinking from you.

They stood up and kissed as you caught your breath, Frankie's hand on Lucien's waist pulling him towards him, demanding and keen.

You stayed out it for a while watching them, leaning on your elbows, enjoying their eager mouths, tasting your flavor on each other’s tongue, their beards drenched in your juices.

Frankie was much rougher with him, almost matching Lucien’s typical impatience.

He bit his lower lip, sucking it then forcing his tongue into his mouth licking like a starve man.

You loved seeing him lose his inhibitions, it turned you on deeply the way he trailed down on Lucien’s jaw and neck and up to his lips again, rubbing his hand on his cock over the fabric.

You knelt down beside them, your hands on the elastic of their boxers. You pulled them down with their help and they stepped out of them, leaving them crumpled on the floor.

With one hand on both of their cocks you began to stroke them, feeling their velvety skin slide between your fingers, both were already hard, leaking pre cum.

“Mmmm all slippery and wet for me… I love it” you cooed and they stopped kissing looking down at you, mouths parted and running out of breath.

You brought their cocks together rubbing them on one another, touching the tips, stroking them up and down and they left out a whimper.

You had to use two hands to hold both of their big fat cocks.

You continued to smear their pre cum down their length, skin on skin, tips kissing, pleasure on pleasure building strongly as they throbbed in your hands.

They were both hypnotized by your movements, eyes locked on your hands working on their shafts.

You felt a rush of power in your chest, both of your guys at your mercy, your cunt slick again, arousal pooling at your core.

Lucien palmed the back of your head and you couldn’t help but leaning yourself at his cock licking his tip, savoring his flavor on your tongue.

You did the same to Frankie and he praised “you’re so fucking beautiful like that”

You took his length in your mouth, stroking Lucien with your hand, Frankie’s heavy and hot on your tongue as you slide down until you felt it in the back of your throat, almost gagging.

Frankie whispered “god, baby, you always take me so well”

You whined feeling your cunt dripping on your thighs, beginning to suck him.

You run your tongue up and down his length, sucking on his mushroom head, feeling salt and musk invading your mouth.

You stroke Lucien some more and then he moved on his knees right next to you.

You turned and looked him as you sucked, his dark eyes eagerly watching Frankie’s cock disappearing between your lips.

“Can I help?”

You pulled away from your boyfriend’s cock, a thread of saliva connecting his length to your lips.

“Do you want to taste it?”

Lucien nodded repeatedly.

“Say it,” you urged, “I want to hear it.”

“I want to -”

You shook your head, “Tsk. You’re not getting away easily with this. And you don’t say ‘I want’. Ask nicely.”

Lucien gulped before speaking again, visibly annoyed. You didn’t care, it was Frankie’s cock you were talking about, it belonged to you. Him begging for it seemed like the least he could do.

“Can I take it in my mouth, please?” Lucien had finally decided to submit to your will, he was losing his cockiness, pleading with his entire face, and it felt good.

“Only for a few minutes. And make sure you don’t make him come, that’s my job”

“Okay” he agreed and he lowered himself onto Frankie’s cock, mouth wide open, starting to suck where you left off.

Frankie gave you a pleased look, he was clearly impressed by your attitude and you caressed him on his tummy, just above where Lucien's head was, tracing with your fingers that happy strip of hair that led to his intimacy.

A little something only you were allowed to do, ‘cause Frankie was so self conscious of his tummy.

He gained a little bit of weight that went right there on his love handles since he retired and you worked so hard to make him feel better about it.

You loved every single inch of him, from his lovely curls, to his strong nose, from his wide shoulders to his soft belly.

His body was made for loving you, to protect you, to make you feel safe.

You grabbed his balls as Lucien continued to suck him avidly and you gently gripped on them, Frankie left out a whimper that went straight to your cunt.

You angled your face to suck on one, sliding it over your tongue the way you knew he liked it.

Your face right next to Lucien's as you took care of Frankie together must have been something Frankie would never have imagined, you had never heard him moan like that and honestly you were on the edge too as you heard the obscene sounds made by Lucien's mouth full of Frankie's cock so close to your ears.

“Jesus fuck” he muttered, taking an handful of Lucien’s messy hair, pushing him down to his length, you suffocated a little evil laugh at hearing Lucien gagging more than you did.

As soon as you felt Frankie's balls harden you ordered Lucien to move, he took Frankie's cock out of his mouth with a lewd pop and for a moment you lost concentration looking at his swollen lips.

You shook yourself, stuffing what belonged to you into your mouth, wrapping your hand around his base, sucking non-stop, Frankie pulsing on your tongue, his musky scent filling your nostrils, him praising you “my good girl, you are so incredible. You like it huh? I know love, just like that, don't stop”

You increased the pace, sucking at his tip with all the breath you had left, swallowing his whole spent down your throat as soon as he spurted it in long thick streaks, his whole body quivering, his head falling backward and his eyes shut.

“Fuck yeah, baby, oh my- fuck you swallow like a champ” His voice spent and hoarse almost cracked.

You kept it in your mouth until he softened, he looked at you so sweetly, cradling your head, repeating “I love you, baby, I love you so much” and you looked back at him with all the affection that flooded from your heart.

“Come to me, darling,” he said as he sat on the bed and motioned for Lucien to join you on the opposite side. The two of you lay down on Frankie’s bed, you were in the center again, pressed against his chest with one leg wrapped around his waist, while Lucien hugged you from behind.

Frankie kissed the crown of your head, your hair, caressing your arm, holding you tight.

Lucien left a small trail of kisses along your cheek and neck as you felt his cock press against your ass and you hummed quietly.

The three of you stayed like that for a while, snuggled together and listening to your breathing return to normal, until Frankie asked you what else you wanted to do.

“I want…” you paused, examining your desires thoroughly “I want you in my cunt and Lucien in my mouth”

Frankie left out a “damn girl! You’re insatiable” kissing your forehead and you hid your face on his chest giggling.

You raised your head admiring your boyfriend’s captivating smile and his beautiful brown eyes, a little dimple popping out at the side of his mouth.

“Yeah” you cooed “I’m always hungry for you”

Frankie provoked you “and what do you tell me about him?”

“It's a nice addition” you admitted reaching Lucien’s cheek with your hand, passing your fingers tip on his scratchy beard.

“Spit roasted huh?” Lucien whispered into your ear “such a good girl for us”

“On all fours, babe”

You willingly complied with Frankie's request and he stood behind you.

“Is she ready?” He asked and you whined a “yes, please” sticking your ass out and spreading your legs for him.

Frankie leaned down and spread your folds his fingers, looking at your pussy. “Almost” he said.

You snorted “What, almost?” You felt wetter than you’d ever felt in your life, just the thought of being taken by both of them at the same time made your clit vibrate “Yes, love, you need to stretch out a little for me, just a little”.

You protested under your breath and Frankie suddenly stuck his index and middle fingers up to his knuckles inside you. You winced, feeling your disagreement die in your throat.

“Fuck!”

“Here you are princess” he said, starting to move his fingers inside you, in lascivious squeaks and a flow of juices that coated them.

Lucien was in front of you, kneeling, slowly pumping his cock. He approached your face passing the tip on your lips, spreading drops of pre cum over them.

Your mouth instantly agape welcomed him, humming at the flavor spreading on your tongue. Its thick vein crawled across your palate, its flavor a little more pungent than Frankie's but just as pleasant.

You inhaled sharply through your nose, focusing on relaxing your mouth to let him slide in as Frankie's fingers explored relentlessly inside you, caressing your g-spot.

You were basically gushing on his fingers, squirming and crying as your orgasm rose up from your tummy, to your chest, choking in your throat full of Lucien’s cock.

“Fuck baby, you’re dripping on my wrist” Frankie groaned.

Lucien placed his hands on either side of your face and gave a couple of harder thrusts, hitting your throat.

You felt on the verge of tears but the orgasm Frankie was giving you was easing the pain, leaving you in a state of dizziness.

Frankie lined up with your entrance, hitting your folds with his cock a few times and then entering with one firm thrust. He hit your cervix and made you see stars.

He began to hammer into you, gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh.

It was rougher than usual but you didn't mind. Being fucked from both ends was blowing your mind, you had never felt so full.

“Fuck, princess, you’re taking me well” Frankie yelled behind your back while Lucien was grunting right in front of you, palpitating on your tongue.

You were exhausted, overstimulated, yet you didn't know how to stop.

Your skin was incredibly hot, little drops of sweat were sliding down your skin.

You looked at Lucien and his chains flapped on his chest while his raven curls were plastered to his forehead.

His eyes were narrowed, his jaw was slack, an ecstatic expression painted on his face.

You could have come just by watching him but Frankie wouldn’t stop thrusting into you, he was now bent over you holding onto your breasts, barely keeping his balance but you knew how much he loved grabbing your tits while he fucked you. Frankie was a tit man. He was the king of oral sex but while he was doing it he loved to pinch your nipples and could spend just as much time sucking your tits as he enjoyed doing it at your clit. No one had ever made you squirt before Lucien, that’s true, but Frankie was on another level. Making you explode like that was a mission for him and to do that he concentrated on putting his mouth where he knew it would have the greatest effect. And you had sensitive nipples. A perfect match.

Frankie was so close, you knew it because of his sounds. You knew them by heart, those guttural moans that slipped past his lips when he couldn't hold it in any longer.

He flooded your pussy a few moments later and you came right after him, the sound of your orgasm muffled by Lucien's cock still in your mouth even though you felt a storm inside.

You swallowed Lucien's seed shortly after, his hand anchored to the nape of your neck.

He sounded incoherent and delirious as he filled your mouth with his cum.

You collapsed together on the bed, a tangle of legs and arms and labored breathing.

After a few minutes Frankie said “I think I’m not done yet” and you looked at him and immediately understood. Lucien didn’t know him that well, his face was relaxed and totally unaware.

“Huh? What do you want to do?” he asked innocently. Frankie was staring at you and smiling in a mischievous way.

“Oh I know…” you grinned back at Frankie.

“Can someone explain it to me?” Lucien was starting to get nervous, probably feeling cut off from your complicity.

He would know very soon.

Frankie didn't give him time to ask any more questions, he moved on the bed, manhandling him like a puppet.

He turned him over on his back, holding both his wrists still with one hand and said “now you will take my cock. Be good and get down on your knees for me, kitten”

He let go of his wrists and Lucien, submissive like you'd ever seen him, got down on all fours for your boyfriend.

“It's time to take off that braggart look on your face.” Frankie barked.

Lucien tried to protest but before he could, Frankie's finger had already disappeared up into his ass.

He screamed a “fuck” in a broken voice and Frankie laughed “Come on, I know you like it”

“Yeah, I do. You could have prepared me though, motherfucker” Frankie slapped Lucien’s ass.

A red patch radiated across his skin. You were sitting quietly on the side of the bed, enjoying the scene. Frankie was serving you a little revenge on a silver plate.

“I think you deserve a little punishment so now you will shut up, you will take my cock in your ass and you will like it, we clear?”

Lucien moaned as Frankie moved his finger inside him, stretching him out.

“Fuck. Okay. it's not the first time someone's been hard on me though”

For a novice, Frankie certainly showed no hesitation “Ask yourself why”

He had had anal sex before, it had happened with you too but it was his first time with a man.

Lucien's breathing had become heavy again, he was literally melting under Frankie's touch.

He added another finger.

“Yeah, you like that, look how good you're taking my fingers. Tell me you like it, I want to hear it.”

Lucien moaned incoherently and Frankie spanked him again “Use your words”

Lucien babbled “I- I can’t” and Frankie's hand went down a third time on his ass

“Yes you can, speak up” he ordered.

Frankie was a vision.

Focused, relentless, you unconsciously lowered a hand between your legs as you watched him, starting to flick on your clit.

“I love it” Lucien finally managed to say “fuck. yes”

“Good boy” Frankie hummed “you can call me daddy if you like that”

You laughed and Lucien raging voice protested “I won’t call you daddy in a million years, asshole”

Frankie thrusted his fingers inside him saying “Shall we bet?”

Lucien left out a single desperate moan.

“I swear I never wanted it before but now I feel like doing it” you whispered and Frankie winked at you.

He pumped his cock it into his fist, until he got hard again, giving a few more slaps to Lucien who was waiting obscenely open for him.

He pounded into him grabbing him by his hips, thrusting in and out of him ferociously.

Lucien screamed in a frenzy.

You kept touching your clit, increasing the pace along with Frankie who sank into Lucien in long, incessant thrusts.

He grabbed him by his waist and Lucien slammed into Frankie’s chest, holding him firmly as he continued to fuck him.

“The chain” Lucien pleaded “please”

Frankie entwined his fingers with the metal “what do you want, kitten?”

“Pull it. Gently” Lucien said “I need- please”

Frankie didn’t hesitate, pulling it towards him, Lucien moaned, his breathing slightly constricted by the metal around his neck. Frankie was careful not to overdo it and the little extra stimulation sent Lucien over the edge. His neck was red where the chain dug into his skin.

You were now at your limit, flicking on your clit like crazy, two finger stuck in your cunt, wailing along with Lucien and Frankie.

You came screaming Frankie's name like a God, Lucien's body jolted against Frankie's, he pulled out of your ex's ass, stroking his cock a couple of time before painting Lucien’s ass cheeks with his cum.

You were lying on the bed again a moment after, you hugging Frankie and Lucien next to you.

You sighed, breaking the silence first “If we do this again I think I’ll cancel my gym membership,” and they both laughed.

A/n: If you've made it this far, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart for your time. 🩷 I hope you enjoyed it, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Safe (M, cold)

Well, here I am.

It's been a few months since I've written anything in the Elliot's universe, but recently someone asked for a Mark-centric story, and this behemoth is what ensued. Allow me to preface by saying this: Mark is basically my self-insert. This was a very hard story to write. If it sucks, my apologies, hah.

In this, Mark gets sick from Matt and wants to hide it from Elijah. It is significantly more hurt/comfort-slash-sickfic than snzfic, honestly. It starts fairly benign, fluffy, and silly and gets really intense a few pages in. There's a lot of musing, a lot of being inside Mark's head. Idk. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. This is the first story I've written on here that has taken me a full week to get down, and that I've written and scrapped multiple scenes. It is very long. I really hope you enjoy it if you read it. I'd love to hear your thoughts, but also understand if it's just too long-winded for people to read. Also, there's a real chance of spelling/grammar errors because I just can't look at this monster of a fic any longer, ha.

Anyway. Onward.

CW: Male snz, illness, coughing, contagion. 6K words (almost exactly)

Safe

“Don’t go near them.”

It’s the first thing that hit his ears as he pushed through the swinging kitchen doors; no ‘hi, Mark,’ no, ‘good morning’, just a barked order with absolutely zero context thrown in. Mark whipped his head in the direction of the stern voice of his boss.

“Good morning to you, too,” he muttered, making his way towards the office, where Elijah was stationed, seated, but not doing any computer work. “Who and what are we avoiding?” he asked as he entered.

“The chefs,” Elijah said, moving his chair to let the younger manager in to sit. Mark placed his backpack on the ground, tossed his coat over top of Greyson’s on the second office chair. Waited for further explanation that did not come.

“Okay…” he said, sitting beside his boss. “And we’re not going near them because…?” Mark hadn’t even seen Greyson or Matt yet this morning. The avoiding was being done for him, so what was Elijah’s deal?

Elijah hummed a low disapproval – of what, Mark couldn’t guess – and turned towards his computer. “You’ll see,” he said, shaking his mouse and pulling up an order guide. “Just don’t breathe your boyfriend’s breath, okay?”

Mark colored at the implication; it had only been a couple of months since Matt and Mark had been outed to the restaurant, and the floor manager still wasn’t used to their relationship being casually dropped into conversation. While Elijah busied himself with admin work, Mark stood – time to figure out what the fuck Elijah was on about.

You would think that finding chefs in a kitchen would be a relatively banal business; they’re chefs. They’re cooking. Hardly a moving target – but you’d be wrong. Somehow, the second a front of house manager starts looking for a chef, they become a ghost. They haven’t existed for a thousand years – are you sure this restaurant even has a chef? Mark couldn’t help but ponder how the fuck this hundred-square-foot kitchen somehow became a labyrinthian nightmare the second he wanted to find his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s boss; c’mon, he’d checked the walk-in, the back kitchen, even the dock to see if they were smoking, where the fuck were they?

Maybe Elijah had told the two of them to stay away from Mark and the front of house staff before the floor manager arrived, and they were playing a cat-and-mouse style keep-away game that Mark was unaware of. Or maybe they had gone to the store to pick up chicken or some shit. Either way, Mark was done looking. Elijah said don’t go near them, he thought to himself, heading back towards the front of the kitchen, easy enough.

Of course, it was the moment that Mark decided he was done looking that he quite literally bumped into his boyfriend coming through the kitchen doors.

“Oof,” Matt grunted as they collided. Greyson, not even a step behind him, turned their two-person bump into a three-car-pileup that nearly ended in hot coffee being spilled over all of them.

“Christ, Chef, watch where you’re going,” Matt muttered untangling himself from the middle of the pack.

“Mbe watch where I’mb going?” Greyson asked, wiping his coffee-covered hand on his chef’s pants. “The two of you are practically grinding on each other here and I ndeed to watch where I’mb going?”

Mark clocked it in the chef’s voice immediately – oh. That’s what Elijah meant.

But… he had said both of them… right?

Mark’s head shot up from checking to make sure he didn’t have coffee all over his button-down to look Matt directly in the face – ah. Fuck.

“Hh-! Hh’ITSHZH-ue! HRTSHH-ue!” Matt collapsed to the side to sneeze, seemingly in lieu of responding to Greyson’s dig. “Snf. Fuck off, Chef.” There it was.

“Bless you,” Mark said, attempting not to sound accusatory. Matt just nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

Before Mark could respond to the unnecessary apology, Elijah’s voice rang out once again from the office. “Mark, I told you to stay away from them!” The GM stood from his desk chair and strode into the kitchen, physically pushing Mark and Matt away from one another. “Six foot distance,” he said, pointing at both of them. “And you,” he said, addressing his counterpart, “didn’t I tell you to go get some tea and sit the fuck down? We have a big night tonight and I need you conscious, please.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and held up his cup. “I was on mby way to sit when the children starting gyrating on each other in the mbiddle of mby kithcen,” he said. “Don’t put this one on mbe.”

Elijah squeezed the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “First of all,” he said, moving towards Greyson and plucking the cup from his hand, “that isn’t tea.”

“The tea we buy is gross,” Greyson whined. “And I’mb ti – hh! Hh...hhuh-ETSHZH-ue! Snrf, fuck.” Greyson took a moment to collect himself, to wipe his nose on his sleeve and cough – a wet, concerning sound – before finishing his sentence. “I’mb tired,” he said, snatching the cup back.

“Which is why I told you to go sit down,” Elijah said, pressing his palms together and accentuating each word with his hands. “And please do not get my front of house manager sick. I beg, Greyson.”

“Talk to him,” Greyson said, thumbing towards Matt. “I’mb ndot the one with my tongue in Mark’s mbouth twenty-four-seven.”

Mark’s face flamed once again, but Matt, either too sick to care or beyond the embarrassment that was a public relationship in the work place, just rolled his eyes.

“Jealous, much?” Matt asked under his breath. Greyson shot daggers with a glance at his sous, and Mark decided it was probably time to step in.

“Listen, how about I go grab the two of you some medicine from down the street, you both take a rest, and then by the time the meds have kicked in, everyone should be good for service.” Mark looked to Elijah for his blessing; his boss was obviously mulling it over, considering. “And this way, I’ll be out of the metaphorical splash zone,” he finished, which finally prompted a nod from Elijah.

“Okay,” his boss said. “Good idea, Mark. You two – come with me.”

The GM led the two chefs back into the dining room to lay in the back booth while Mark let out a sigh. He was happy, of course, to be out of the fight, to have seemingly calmed everyone down, and to have put his boss’s mind at ease.

Unfortunately, he was fairly sure that – despite Elijah’s eased mind – it was already too late for keeping himself away from the newest restaurant pestilence.

***

“Elijah is going to kill me, Matt.”

“Oh, please, he is ndo – ITSZCHH-ue! ndot,” Matt said, swiping the bottle of Dayquil from Mark’s hand and chugging it. “You gonna sit?” he asked, sniffling and patting the milk crate beside him and shivering. Mark sighed.

“I’m not gonna sit, because Elijah is going to kill me even more if he sees me sitting right next to you.”

“I’mb gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s ndot possible,” Matt said, dissolving at the end of his sentence into a chesty cough.

“You’re coughing now, too?” Mark asked, worry about Elijah’s anger usurped very suddenly by concern for his boyfriend. Mark placed a hand to Matt’s head. “Oh, honey.”

“Sorry,” Matt said, not bothering to move Mark’s hand. Mark huffed out a little laugh.

“Don’t apologize for being sick. Please,” he said, moving his hand to cup Matt’s cheek. “Even if Elijah might kill us both.”

Matt smiled, pressed his face harder into Mark’s hand. “You might ndot get sick. You ndever know,” he muttered, eyes closing as Mark held his head up.

“Matt,” Mark laughed, “I mean… I don’t think that’s, uh, possible after last night.” Matt’s eyes blinked open at the mention of it, and a little smile flitted across his lips.

The apartment had been quiet.

“Matt?” Mark called as he stepped inside. “Babe, are you home?”

He strained his ears; the shower was on. Mark had an idea.

He tiptoed across the cold apartment floor, quietly stripping as he went; by the time he got to the bathroom door, he was nude as the day he was born. The bathroom door wasn’t closed all the way, so he pushed inside silently and pulled back the curtain.

A fact about Matt that shocked Mark more than anything was that the man did not get scared. He had yawned through their first haunted house together; he fell asleep during the Terrifier movies, for Christ’s sake. So Mark was unsurprised when, instead of screaming bloody murder the way he would’ve if Matt snuck up on his in the shower, his boyfriend simply turned away from the spray and smiled.

“You’re early,” he murmured, ushering Mark in.

“I came right from the gym,” Mark said, wrapping his arms around the shorter man. “I wanted to see you.”

“Mmmm,” Matt hummed, pressing himself into Mark’s arms. “That’s nice, baby.”

They stood that way for a few minutes, until Mark tipped Matt’s chin up towards his face. “I wanted to see you,” he said, pressing his lips onto Matt’s neck, “but I also wanted to… do things. With you.”

Matt’s breath caught in the back of his throat. “Yeah?” he asked, voice low. “Like what?”

Mark stood back to his full height, and pushed Matt against the shower wall. “Let me show you.”

“Fair enough,” Matt said now, lifting his head. “But, I mbean, are you feeling okay right ndow?”

He was, for the moment. But, Matt had seemed alright last night, and clearly he’d already been on the trajectory towards ill – despite that fact that he had been very good at hiding it. Whatever he and his boss had picked up was certainly quick to come on.

“I’m fine, baby, don’t worry about me,” Mark said, rummaging through the drug store bag to hand Matt, who’d fallen into another paroxysm of coughing, the Robitussin. “I’m more worried about you than anything.”

Matt snapped the top off and chugged this medicine as well, seemingly without any concern about mixing two medications. “Babe, it’ll be fine. I kndow Elijah is worried about getting through the weekend, but it’s ndot like any of us haven’t worked with a cold before.” He shrugged then, handed Mark the medicine, and stood. Mark stood as well, and once again cupped Matt’s hot face – this time with both hands.

“Please just take it a little bit easy tonight, okay?” Mark said. “I know Greyson is sick, too, but don’t try to do too much. We don’t need another moment like a few months ago.”

“And to think I’d just forgotten about that,” Matt said, going on tiptoe to kiss his boyfriend. “I’ll be okay.” Mark kissed him back, a little longer than was maybe necessary; long enough that neither of them heard the back door open until it was too late.

“Mark, what the fuck are you doing?”

Oh, fuck.

Elijah.

***

By the end of the night, Greyson and Matt were shadows of their former selves.

“Hh-! Hhhuh… hhNGTSHH-ue! HRTSHH! ETSZCH-ue! Fuuuck mbe,” Greyson muttered as he wrenched into the sleeve of his hoodie – chef coats had been abandoned about an hour into service, when both he and Matt started shivering hard enough to fuck up the plating on more than half the dishes – for the millionth time that night. He attempted to clear his throat, prompting a flurry of congested coughs.

Behind him, Matt was sitting on the cold, industrial kitchen ground, head between his knees. “I’mb gonna pass out, I just kndow I am.”

“Don’t fuckigg pass out,” Greyson growled, pulling his sous to his feet. “You ndeed to get your blood mboving, you gotta stand up. Idiot.”

The two of them, bickering and sneezing in near-unison by the pass, had captivated the attention of both front of house managers, who had turned away from their computer work to watch the mess unfold.

“Hope you like what you see,” Elijah said, finally. “Because that’s gonna be you tomorrow.”

Behind his boss’s back, Mark rolled his eyes. “Boss, I’m fine. I don’t feel sick at all, trust me, I’m going to be okay.” It was mostly true; he’d sneezed a few more times today than was normal for him, yes. And he was a little tired – no more than usual, surely. The rawness in the back of his throat was easily ignored with huge gulps of water. He was fine.

“Mmm,” Elijah said, swinging his chair around to look the younger man in the eye, “sure. Whatever you say, Mark; just remember, if you look even close to how bad Matt does tonight, you’re off the floor. And I mean off the floor until you return to normal. A cold is one thing; whatever these two have is entirely another. Understood?”

Mark swallowed around his burgeoning sore throat; off the floor. Off the floor didn’t mean relegated to busywork behind the scenes; it meant sent home. Being sent home meant days without a backup manager to help Elijah on the floor, and no one to help on the floor meant Elijah would realize there was a gap in their team. A gap in management. Mark had been the only floor manager in all the years Elliot’s had been open; Elijah had mentioned a few times that maybe they should hire another person, someone to cover if both Mark and Elijah couldn’t come in, but Mark had been vehemently against it. Elijah couldn’t hire another manager, because if he did, he’d see how truly unqualified Mark had been for his position all this time. Once he saw how unqualified he was, he’d be out on his ass. No job, no money… no second family. No place he truly belonged.

Mark’s face flushed, and he cast his eyes towards the floor. “Yes, boss,” he said. “I understand.”

“Good,” Elijah said, nodding. “Now, go collect your boyfriend and take him to bed.”

***

The first time Mark was sick while working at Elliot’s was well over a year into his tenure.

Elijah had regarded Mark with concern, clocking him as unwell the second he sat in the office. “You don’t look well,” he said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Mark��s face had flushed, embarrassed; not getting sick for over a year working front of house was honestly a feat of accomplishment in the restaurant industry, but he still felt guilty for coming down with something, despite its inevitability. He shrugged, an attempt at playing it cool.

“I’mb okay, boss,” Mark croaked. “Just a cold.”

Elijah nodded slowly. “Are you sure it’s just a cold? You feel okay to work?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, confused. Did he look that unwell? “I mbean… yeah?” he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Why?”

“Well,” Elijah said, opening a drawer and pulling out cold medicine, along with a small bag that looked like it could’ve come from his mother’s medicine cabinet. “A cold, we can work with.”

The GM explained to him, then, that there were marked differences between the front of house cold, and the back of house cold. “You’ve seen Greyson sick at work a dozen times,” Elijah said, passing Mark a cup full of pills and a water bottle. “Right?”

“Sure,” Mark said, swallowing the pills around a painfully sore throat. “It’s ndot like he’s hiding it.”

“Right. Right,” Elijah said, popping open a stick that looked like – was that concealer? “The chefs, the cooks – they don’t have to hide anything. Us, though? No one wants to be served soup by someone with a stuffy nose. We all get the same shit, but only they’re allowed to look like shit.” He dabbed the concealer under Mark’s eyes, used an expert finger to blend it into his skin. “That’s the industry for you.”

“Are you… putting makeup on mbe?” Mark asked, laughing a bit.

“Sure am,” Elijah said. “A little concealer goes a long way in this profession, Mark. Concealer, and enough meds to tranquilize an elephant.” His boss closed the little concealer pen, put the medicine and makeup away. “I want you on the floor, but I want you to look… alive.” Elijah shut the drawer, shrugged. “Let me know if you start feeling really shitty. Otherwise? Come to the back to blow your nose, and feel free to help yourself to whatever you want in here.”

Mark blinked, a little confused, but grateful for the advice. Elijah seemed… almost fatherly, like this, and he could feel embarrassing tears welling in his eyes at this, the smallest gesture of being cared for. Mark looked down, cleared his throat. “Uh… okay, boss. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Elijah said, patting Mark’s knee. “We’ve gotta take care of each other in this hell hole of an industry, y’know?”

Mark couldn’t look up. The thought of his boss seeing him cry was entirely too much for him to handle. “Right,” he whispered. “Right.”

***

The hardest part of hiding an illness, Mark knew from experience, was speaking.

Putting on makeup and looking like a human instead of a corpse? Easy. He’d learned how to apply concealer so it didn’t look like he was in drag – just enough that in the dim lighting of the restaurant you couldn’t tell if those were dark circles or shadows. He’d learned if you added a tiny bit of blush to your cheeks, no one noticed that your nose was also red, and he’d figured out the hard way that there was never a world in which he needed eyeliner, even if it made his eyes look less bloodshot.

He always dressed immaculately when he wasn’t feeling well; extra-crisp button down, sport coat, his expensive Ray Ban glasses, not the cheapos from Zenni he usually donned. Mark shined his shoes the second he felt a tickle in his throat, broke out the cuff links if he suddenly sneezed more than thrice in a row. He’d been trained well by Elijah to hide the visual cues of any oncoming malady.

Hiding how he really felt came even more naturally; he’d been practicing that since childhood. Complaining wasn’t in his nature, or had maybe been stamped out entirely at some point – either way, Mark could be actively passing out, unable to breathe, coughing so hard he couldn’t form a sentence, and he wouldn’t even mention it. Of course, he’d been sent home from work for being ill before, but never once had he chosen to go. Even the thought of saying ‘I’m sick’ made him dizzy with unease. You need to work through that in therapy, Matt had said to him multiple times, and he knew it was true, but it was also helpful. In this industry, admitting defeat was akin to admitting you sucked at your job.

The voice, though? That was always what gave him away. No matter how much medicine he took, he could always hear the rasp that overtook his voice immediately. His m’s and n’s turned to rounded shadows of their former selves even if he blew his nose every five minutes. His timbre lowered considerably, to the point that when Matt first saw him sick he asked how it felt to be able to do a perfect Johnny Cash, but only when he felt like shit. It was a problem, but Mark was a pretty quiet guy in general. If he was quieter than usual, usually no one was the wiser.

That’s what he hoped – that his boss would be none the wiser – as he dressed in his perfectly-tailored suit that morning, stifling sneeze after painful sneeze into handfuls of tissue all the while. Just don’t talk, he thought as he dotted Maybeline under his eyes. No one has to know.

Of course, not talking was a bit… difficult when his boss was around. “Good morning,” Elijah called to Mark as he buzzed through the kitchen, trying to make his way into the dining room without having to make small talk. Dammit. Mark stopped, begrudgingly, and nodded at his boss, who raised both eyebrows at the younger manager’s outfit choice. “Is there an event tonight I’ve forgotten?”

Mark shook his head, straightened his tie. “Just felt like dressing up,” he said, tactfully avoiding words with too many nasal letters. “How’re you, boss?”

“I’m well,” Elijah said, pointedly. He patted the empty chair next to him, prompting Mark to sit; don’t let him get a good look at you, a voice in Mark’s head chastised. Don’t get taken off the floor. “Greyson’s not coming in till three, if you want to do your preshift report in here today.”

“That’s okay,” Mark said. “I like the dining roomb.” Fuck.

Elijah cocked his head to the side, but didn’t mention Mark’s voice. “How’s Matt feeling?” he asked, another pointed question.

“He’s okay – a little better. Said he’d be here at four.” Mark patted himself on the back for maneuvering around any pesky m’s or n’s that time. Elijah nodded slowly.

“Glad to hear it,” Elijah said, standing. The younger manager was several inches taller than his boss, but Elijah was still able to look him fairly closely in the eye. Once again, one word rattled around in Mark’s head: fuck. “How are you feeling?”

Mark allowed a smile to form on his rapidly-chapping lips. “Good, boss. Ready to work,” he said simply. God, he needed to clear his throat. And more than that, he really, really needed to blow his nose.

Elijah nodded. “Alright,” he said, apparently placated. “Go ahead, then.”

“Thanks, boss,” Mark said, stepping out of the office doorway and pushing through the swinging kitchen doors before Elijah could say anything else. He’d made it through the first test, somehow. Just in time, too, he thought, making a beeline towards the bathroom. Because I really fucking need to -

“NTSHH!” Mark stifled a near-silent sneeze into his wrist as he yanked open the guest bathroom door. Finally, locked in the bathroom alone, he allowed himself to be as disgusting, as sick as he really was.

“Hhuh -! Hh- ETZSCH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Huh… hh’RRSHH-ue!” Mark collapsed in on himself, scrambling to collect a handful of tissues so he wouldn’t ruin the sleeve of his suit. He blew his nose as thoroughly as he could – not that it made any difference, he was still stuffed up to the gills. A pathetic little cough escaped his lungs, prompting another tickle in his sinuses. “HUHTTSCHH-ue!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chastised himself, blowing his nose again. He’s going to fucking hear you.

He waited a moment or two to see if Elijah would push through the door – he didn’t – before sitting fully clothed on the toilet and pulling out his phone.

11:56AM

Mark

what is this, the fucking plague?

Almost immediately, Matt texted back.

11:57AM Matt

o shit, did we get you already? baby im so sorry. u shouldve told me u weren’t feeling good last night u couldve stayed over

11:57AM Mark

not your fault. and I’m ok, just trying to avoid Elijah, he’s gonna be so pissed.

11:59AM

Matt

omfg he’ll get over it. its not like someone in that restaurant isnt sick every other week

Mark sighed, his lungs crackling at the effort. Matt was right; someone was almost always sick at Elliot’s, that was the way of things in this industry. They all shared drinks, they worked in close quarters, it was bound to happen. This was less about the illness itself – of course he’d been sick at work before, who hadn’t? - and more about the look he knew he’d see on Elijah’s face when he’d finally have to crack. He’d gone directly against his boss’s orders, had put his job and the restaurant second to his baser desires. That’s no way to get ahead in this world, his dad’s voice bellowed from the base of his brain. Mark shuddered; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to face Elijah’s look of pure disappointment. He wasn’t sure he had it in him.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Mark stood and washed his hands. He took an inventory of his face in the mirror – eye bags poorly covered by drugstore makeup, his nose raw and red, his mouth slightly open to allow him to breathe – and realized how truly awful he looked. Was there even a chance that Elijah didn’t know he was sick? Doubtful, his dad’s voice muttered.

You have to just try, another voice in his head pleaded. Just push through, you know how to push through. You’ve done it a million times before. He doesn’t have to know.

That voice, Mark knew, was delusional – a child’s gnawing plea to be accepted, to not get in trouble, to not be thought of as a burden – but he knew that sometimes you had to be delusional, had to listen to the saddest, smallest part of yourself to get through a day. He pulled his phone back out before leaving the bathroom.

12:04PM

Mark

just please don’t say anything to Elijah when you get here, ok? I’m fine, I promise. its honestly probably just in my head, it’s probably nothing so just don’t say anything. see u soon.

Pathetic, his dad’s voice spat, and Mark knew the voice was right. But that was nothing new, nothing to dwell on; he’d always been pathetic. Mark switched off his phone then, not wanting to be comforted by his boyfriend, and stepped onto the floor.

***

“Mark,” Matt said, reaching up to touch the front of house manager’s forehead, “you really need to go.”

Mark pulled away before Matt could touch him, though not by choice. “HRRSHH-uhh! Hh-! HhNTZSHH-ue! Snrrf. Leave mbe alone.”

Matt’s hand recoiled at the ice in his boyfriend’s voice, obviously hurt. Normally, Mark would’ve nearly fallen to his knees at the thought of hurting Matt’s feelings, but today, with the cold from hell progressing quicker than he ever could’ve anticipated, he couldn’t even find it in himself to apologize. Obviously he needed to go, but that would mean admitting to illness; it would mean begin taken off the floor until god-knows-when. It would mean Elijah replacing him.

No. He wasn’t about to go.

“Honey,” Matt said carefully, touching Mark’s hand across the expo board, “I’mb sure Elijah would understand. It’s a slow ndight, he already sent Greyson back home. What are you trying to prove?”

Of course, Matt was right; last night’s crazy shift was in stark contrast to this evening’s steady pace. There were hardly twenty more covers for the evening, and yes, even Greyson had admitted defeat and slunk out right at six p.m., in a fevered haze. The only reason Matt was still here was because his fever had broken this morning and, despite the lingering cough and stuffy nose, he was clearly feeling better. Good enough, even, to have gone behind Mark’s back and talked to Elijah.

“Matt told me,” Elijah had cornered him right before preshift started, in the back server station while everyone else ate family meal. Mark felt his stomach sink. Fucking Matt, he thought, clearing his throat to address his boss in the most normal voice he could muster.

“Told you what?” he asked, straightening his tie. Elijah gave the younger manager a knowing look.

“You don’t look like you feel well, Mark,” he said, obviously trying a different tactic. This time, Mark’s stomach knotted; he felt, for a moment, like a little kid, wanting to fall to the ground in front of his mommy and just allow himself to be comforted. He thought for a fleeting moment of how good it would feel to just admit it; I’m sick, he would say, if he were a normal fucking person, I want to go to bed.

Instead, Mark shook his head. “I don’t kndow what Matt told you, but he doesn’t kndow what he talking about,” he managed, his voice cutting out only once. “I’mb fine.”

Elijah sighed. “Mark, listen, I know I was an asshole yesterday -”

“Boss,” Mark cut Elijah off. “Please. I’mb okay. Just please, let mbe work.”

He’d walked away then, hadn’t let Elijah say whatever it was he wanted to say, and had avoided Matt as well as he could throughout service. Now, mid-shift, when all the cooks and servers were side-eyeing them from he expo board, was not the time to hash this out.

“I’mb ndot trying to prove anything, Matt,” Mark said now, grabbing two plates from the window. “Just stay out of mby business. What table?”

Matt bit his cheek, peaked at the chit. “Please don’t be mbad,” he said, voice quiet. Mark prickled; he couldn’t help it. He was mad. He’d asked one stupid thing of Matt, and now here he was, career in trouble, embarrassed in front of both of their staffs, and once again gearing up for another painful -

“HTTSHH-ue! God, fugck,” Mark swore, ducking expertly away from the plates he was holding. He sucked in through his nose hard enough to make himself dizzy, and looked back at Matt. “What table, Chef?” he asked, pointedly. Matt winced.

“Thirty-three,” he said finally. Mark nodded.

“Great. Thangks.” He turned on his heels and pushed out the kitchen doors.

***

Before it happened, Mark found himself thinking exactly what his boyfriend was moaning the night previous: I’m gonna pass out, I know I am.

The only difference was, Mark was correct.

He’d been feeling shittier and shittier as the night went on. It began with spells of dizziness that came anytime he moved his head too fast, then moved on to an ache in his chest every time he coughed. A cold is one thing, he remembered Elijah saying the night previous. Whatever they have is entirely something else.

Elijah the prophet.

He kept pushing through. Plate after plate came out of the kitchen on his aching arms; he shook drinks while coughing into his shoulder, and sniffled his way through seating guests. Mark could feel Elijah’s eyes on him, though his boss refused to speak to him throughout the shift. I’ll show him, his fever-addled mind kept saying. I can do this. I’m fine.

It wasn’t until the last table had sat that his body well and truly told him he’d had enough. Mark was seeing stars when he grabbed a filet and swordfish, and once again he ignored it. He ignored the room swimming before him as he pushed out of the kitchen. He ignored the sway in his step.

“Shit, Mark!” was the last thing he heard, standing in the middle of the dining room with hot plates in each of his hands. There was no way to tell who said it – Elijah? Matt? – but it didn’t really matter, because before he could respond, his vision became a tiny pinkprick, his knees buckled, and the lights went out.

***

When the world came back into focus, he had somehow teleported into his bed.

At first, Mark tried desperately to get up; he’d fallen in the middle of the restaurant, that he unfortunately remembered immediately. There had been people around, guests watching, and he immediately felt his face flame with embarrassment. Oh, Elijah is going to kill me.

That was when he realized he was no longer in the restaurant. Mark placed a hand over an aching eye; was it all a dream? He looked down – no, it couldn’t be. He was still in his tailored suit, the tie and ciff links missing, but otherwise dressed to the nines.

“Whoa there, kid,” a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Go ahead and lie back down.”

Mark blearily glanced towards the voice. There, just outside his bedroom, stood Elijah, a steaming cup in one hand and a thermometer in the other. Fuck.

“Shit, Elijah, I’mb so sorry I ca – HTSHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Fuck, ’scuse mbe,” Mark, any facade of health finally washed away, used his expensive suit jacket to wipe his nose. Elijah glided across the small room and sat on the foot of the bed, handing the younger man the cup. Tea.

“Save your breath,” Elijah said. “You already apologized about a hundred times at the restaurant.”

He had? Mark gave Elijah a confused look, and sat back on the pillows behind him. He hadn’t even realized he’d come to at the restaurant at all.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah said, nodding. “To me. To Matt. To the guests. To the EMTs. I would think you’d be apologized out.”

EMTs? Mark cringed; as if he hadn’t been embarrassed enough. He wanted to ask, but at the same time he figured it was probably better that he didn’t remember. Small mercies, he thought.

“Lij,” Mark croaked, taking a sip of the tea, “I really amb… sorry. I mbean, I can’t imagine how mbuch I embarrassed you. Thangk you for bringing mbe home… I understand if you can’t…let mbe, uh. Work there. Anymore.”

Mark, destroyed by fever, and aches, and what was probably some sort of bronchitis-sinus-infection super-fucking-hybrid, couldn’t help but let the angry, ashamed tears fall as he said it. Matt wasn’t here, which most likely meant he was out both a boyfriend and a job. You fucking idiot. You stupid, fucking idiot, how dumb could you -

Elijah broke through the screaming in his head – he took Mark’s arms in his hands, placed his cup on the side table, and pulled him in for a hug. “Mark,” his boss said, “you really had us worried.” He pulled the younger manager back, concern painted on his face. “Of course you aren’t fired, I don’t know why you’d think that of me,” he said, a moment so raw that Mark felt like he’d been sucker-punched. “You should’ve just told me you were so sick. So you could go and rest. I would’ve even let Matt go with you.” Elijah patted his knee then, and handed Mark back the mug. “It’s just a restaurant, Mark. You’re more important than service.”

Mark felt his eyes well up once again. Had anyone ever told him he was worth more than the work he did? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure, and that felt like an even harder gut-punch.

“I just…” he managed, wiping beneath his eyes. “I just didn’t wandt you to replace mbe. I’mb sorry for letting Mbatt get mbe sick.”

At this, Elijah actually laughed. “Mark,” he said, “you’re young. You’re in love; it comes with the territory. I was annoyed because Greyson and Matt are constantly getting everyone in that restaurant sick. I wasn’t trying to attack you.” He smiled then, a small and slightly sad smile. “I’m sorry if that’s how to came off.”

Mark didn’t know what to say; he felt awful, like he’d been hit by a semi, and he just wanted to sleep. See Matt. Apologize for being a dick. And sleep.

“Is Mbatt mad at mbe?” he croaked, pulling his legs into his chest. This time, Elijah actually laughed.

“I don’t think Matt knows how to be mad at you,” he said. “He’s just closing up the line; he was actually the one who brought you back here, but you were racked out so I said I’d come keep an eye on you till he got back.” Elijah shrugged, gave a little knowing smile. “He’ll be back soon. Okay? We don’t have to talk any more about this now. Just… try to sleep.” He patted Mark’s shoulder; a fatherly gesture from a man who claimed to know nothing about being a parent. “I’ll call Matt.”

Finally, finally, Mark conceded. He wanted to thank Elijah, or maybe apologize again, but he couldn’t make his mouth form words. Instead, he just nodded, grateful, and sank back into his pillow. He felt his eyes close, and allowed himself, for once, to let someone else take care of him.

He knew, maybe for the first time in his life, that he was safe.

[bowtiepastabitch]

Good Omens Fanfic Data: 2023

Top 5 Tags Per Month

Excludes basic a/c ship tags. Common tags coded by color. Interesting changes or patterns are in bold.

January: fluff, human au, humor, post-canon, established relationship

February: fluff, angst, human au, established relationship, hurt/comfort

March: fluff, human au, angst, post-canon, first kiss (honorable mention: pining)

April: fluff, human au, angst, hurt/comfort, first kiss (honorable mention: humor)

May: fluff, human au, blairamok's #IneffableMay, established relationship, hurt/comfort

June: fluff, human au, established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst

July: fluff, angst, fix-it, hurt/comfort, s2 spoilers

~~~~SEASON TWO~~~~

August: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, post s2, s2 spoilers (honorable mention: fix-it) (@neil-gaiman you know what you did)

September: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, crowley is a mess, ineffable idiots

October: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, post s2, crowley is a mess

November: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, crowley is a mess, post s2 (honorable mentions: angst with a happy ending, hurt crowley)

December: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, ineffable idiots, crowley is a mess (honorable mention: Christmas)

January 2024: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, crowley is a mess, human au (honorable mention: anal sex)

At time of posting there are still a couple hours left on the poll that I plan to use for additional GO fic data, so please go vote if you haven't already. Info about how the process for this is under the cut:)

Data was collected on February first, 2023, using Ao3's filtering system. Each month represents fics updated from the first through last days of the month. Please note that fics are filtered by when it was updated, not originally published, so longer running fics will be sorted under when they were finished or last added to. Unrated fics are not included in the graph, an oversight on my part whilst collecting data, but make up a very small portion of total fics and are often podfics or artwork.

Tags excluded in tag rankings are: "Aziraphale loves Crowley", "Crowley loves Aziraphale", and "Ineffable Husbands", which were consistently ranked among the top tags and I found unhelpful for determining patterns in fan engagement since they are, after all, simply facts. Honorable mentions are tags that ranked within the top 10 tags for the month which were unique to the month or contributed to an interesting trend.

Data collection is all done by me, so slight errors in copying down information are possible. Yes I made teen purple instead of yellow, I found it aesthetically pleasing. So sue me.

January of 2024 was included because I thought the additional data provided interesting information, especially the return of the human au tag (officially "alternate universe-human"), the higher ratio of explicit to nonexplicit fics, and the debut of "anal sex" in the top ten tags. It was a great month for the fandom.

Current other data projects include average word-counts by month and estimation of the total number of words written by members of the fandom. If there's any data or patterns you'd like to see, or questions you'd like answered, drop them in my ask box!

All of this is dedicated to the wonderful amazing writers in the fandom, including lovely mutuals whose work I totally recommend @voluptatiscausa @fellshish @phoen1xr0se @indigovigilance @ineffabildaddy (if I didn't tag you don't read into it, I've got a medically-concerningly bad memory and just popped through my recent reads on ao3.)

<3

[nose-rice]

Guys I NEED to rant about my thoughts on Nuru because i love her <3 ramblings ahead

Like I feel like in almost every fic i read, she's just like, a side character that's there to make whitty remarks to Hugo and be the levelheaded one. If she has an insecurity or problem it's usually pretty surface level and solved quickly, or only mentioned once or twice. I think there are SO many aspects of her character that are so cool.

Okay first, I think we sometimes forget that she's a nerd just like the rest of the gang. Yes, on the outside she's definetly the most 'normal' one, but I think we should concider the fact that she's the only girl in the group, and she's literal royalty. She was raised with a completely different set of standards than the other three. I don’t think I've really ever seen anyone cover that. I feel like she would get called "mature for her age" when she's only 15/16, and almost always gets critisism when she talks back with her own ideas (like her concerns about the meteor shows for example). I feel like out on her journey, she would finally get the freedom to just be herself, and be a kid and be able to rant on about her intrests with the rest of the group. It could be a struggle at first, but it would be awesome to see her getting more comfortable with the group the longer they spend together! Nerds encouraging nerdy rants lol

Since she is a kingdom figurehead, you could also argue that she always has a lot on her hands (especially since she's very proactive when it comes to science and solving problems). This could bring up a need to be productive, or always feeling like she needs to make the right decision, even for the littlest things.

I also feel like a lot of the time she's potrayed as the "right" one, who is 100% right when it comes to stuff like arguing with Hugo. Since they're opposites when it comes to class, they often are compared through that lense. I think it's cool just having Nuru tell Hugo off for judging a book by its cover, but I feel like they have a lot more in common than they realize. I think it would be interesting to see Nuru judging a book by its cover too. Maybe not to the degree that Hugo does, but I feel like calling out both their judging would not only call out character flaws, but it also enforces that even though they hate eachother and would never want to be like the other, they have a lot of the same flaws.

Also, being sheltered in a palace her whole life, I think she might think kind of black and white sometimes, and while she knows when people are just being mean as an act, she might struggle when it comes to people like reformed criminals.

Maybe she's able to be meaner to Hugo because she justifies it by telling herself he's criminal, and therefore bad, possibly glossing over the reasons he might be like that (maybe it crosses her mind, but she tells herself it's not a good enough reason, because stealing is still stealing, and he literally steals EVERYTHING. Even little trinkets and stuff he definitely doesn't need!). When they find out about Varian's criminal history, maybe she reexamines her views on morality and how she used to see people, because by her standards, Varian is a 'bad guy' who's caused harm to SO many people, but he's also the kind, caring, helpful friend that she's been traveling with who would never willingly hurt anyone.

Moving on to Amber x Nuru, I honestly never find myself liking the ship because Amber isn't developed enough which is fine. I don't think every character has to be a magnificent work of art. Side characters are side characters, but their romance is usually written like: "wow that girl is cute! I have a crush now!" Which is cool, but then that's about as far as it gets, then timeskip! Or offscreen they're a couple now. I know it's a side couple so it won't have as much devlopment as something like Varigo, but I never really see their dynamic play out in different situations. Like I don't know how to explain it, but it feels like they solely exist to be a couple? Amber sometimes just feels like an extention of Nuru, and their relationship feels surface level a lot of the time.

I feel like too often she's just watered down to the nice, smart, grounded friend, and I don't know I just think there’s so much more to explore with her. She’s not just some side character. She's literally part of the main cast! Even in fanart I feel like she doesn't really get a lot of stuff besides funny art and just like, pictures meant to look pretty. Unlike something you get a lot with characters like Varian or Hugo.

And honestly I get it. Some characters you just don't take an intrest in. I know I find Varian, Hugo, and Nuru more relatable than I find Yong, but I feel like part of that is developing their characters rather than just seeing them on a surface level. Ofc there are exceptions and there are some stories that dive deeper into Nuru's character out there! I just happen to see this A LOT.

Wow i said "surface level" a lot didn't I 😭😭

Anyway thank you for reading my rant i wanna know what you guys think!!

[celestelunia]

Hey bestie! Hope your day/noon/night is going good! My baby Ruggie doesn’t get enough love so can I get a fic of him maybe “using” reader for her money but he starts to slowly fall for her but she find out he was using her and it turn to angst to fluff where he spills his guts for her! ♡ pls and ty

Hi Cherry! I knew this was you the moment I saw the request 😆

I've never written for Ruggie before, so I hope this came out okay and that you like it. This came out longer than I was planning lol

Fluff & angst warning~

Small cameo of Celes since I know Cherry 👀

"Hey, Y/N!" A familiar voice called as you stopped to turn around. You had been on your way to your next class when the Savanaclaw hyena called out to you before jogging his way towards you. "How are you doing?"

"Good." You reply with a smile. "How are you?"

"Good, good!" Ruggie said before he started to rub the back of his head almost sheepishly. "Listen, I totally forgot my money back at the dorm. Do you mind if I borrow some thaumarks from you?"

"Sure!" You agree almost too easily in Ruggie's opinion as you reach into bag and pull out some money for your friend. This wasn't the first time that he had asked you for money, but you didn't let it bother you. You had always been the type to help if you could, and you had to admit you rather enjoyed the hyenas company when you did see him. Little did you know that Ruggie just saw you as an easy mark.

"Thank you! You're a life savor." Ruggie grinned as he took the thaumarks you had handed him as his ears twitched happily.

"Of course. Anything to help. I was wonde-" you had started to ask when he might have some free time but Ruggie had cut you off before you could ask.

"You're headed to your next class, right?" Ruggie asked as he pocketed the thaumarks. "I don't want you to make you late. I'll catch you later!" He said with a lazy grin before running off.

"O-okay." You said as you watched him run off before you turned to head back towards your next class, feeling a bit disappointed.

Over the next couple of months, it had become a ritual of Ruggie asking you for money for one reason or another, and you happily agreed each time. It had gotten to the point that your friends were even starting to question your sanity about the situation.

Ruggie had managed to get some alone time as he rested his back against one of the many school trees on campus. He came here in hopes of relaxing but he was doing anything but relaxing. His mind kept wondering to Y/N.

How could someone be so naive? He figured she would have gotten tired of him always asking for money, but not once did she complain or ask him when he was going to pay her back. (Not that he ever said he would.) The more time he spent around Y/N, the more he found himself enjoying her company.

This world was full of people you couldn't trust, and Ruggie learned very early on in life that you had to look out for what was best for you. Somebody always wanted something. Nothing in this horrible world was free.

And yet, there was Y/N. She was like a breath of fresh air in his stagnant world. The ray of light that he never thought he would see. It was a rather....strange feeling for the hyena.

Another month went by, and Ruggie found himself not asking Y/N for money as much anymore. He was starting to look forward to the time they spent together and no longer saw her as someone he could take advantage of. If anything, he found himself wanting to protect her from the cruelty of the world.

It wasn't till a week later that a simple question shattered his peace with you. Both you and Ruggie were sitting on one of the benches in the school yard as you talked about your day.

"Ruggie?" Y/N asked, sounding a bit nervous and fidgety.

"Hm? Something wrong?" He asked, turning his full attention to you.

"Is it true....that you only asked me for money because I was an easy mark?" Y/N asked as they kept their gaze down. "That all the reasons you gave me were lies?"

At the question, Ruggie froze. Why were you asking this now after all this time!?

Your friends had been telling you this for some time but you wanted to believe in Ruggie and that he wouldn't take advantage of you like that but you couldn't ignore the voice in the back of your head. All you needed to hear from Ruggie was that it was all a lie.

He paused for a moment as he thought about lying to you, but that didn't sit right with him now. "It's true." Ruggie replied as your head snapped up to look at him. The look of shock and betrayal flashed through your eyes. "But it's not lik-" He had started to explain but was cut off when you suddenly stood up.

"I can't believe you...." Y/N whispered as fresh tears started to cascade down her cheeks.

Feeling a jolt run through him at the sight, Ruggie stood up as he tried to figure out what to say, but before he could, Y/N had run away, leaving him alone in the school yard. "Damn it...." he whispered as his ears lowered flat against his head. The image of you crying invaded his mind as guilt ran through him.

Two weeks. Two weeks that Ruggle had been trying to talk to you but hasn't succeeded! You either slipped away or someone got in his way. Either way, he was reaching his limit.

"Come on, Celes! I know you know where she is!" Ruggie huffed as he looked at the orange hair girl before him.

"I do, but why would I tell you?" The sophomore huffed back, looking at him with a glare. "You really hurt her, Ruggle. Even I feel like punching you at this point." Celes said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I know! I just-ugh!" Ruggie sighed before his anger deflated. "I want to explain. It may have started out wrong, but I really lik-" He had started to admit but was cut off by Celes.

"Ah! Don't continue." Celes sighed, holding up her hand. She knew what he was going to say, and Celes knew she shouldn't be the first one to hear it. "If you end up making this worse, I will hunt you down." Celes sighed before telling Ruggie where to find Y/N.

Y/N sat in the just outside the greenhouse as she let out a sigh. You knew Ruggie had been trying to get your attention, but you wanted nothing to do with him right now. It hurt. Knowing that you liked him more than he liked you. You felt like such a fool!

"Y/N?"

Hearing the one voice you didn't want to hear right now, you glanced over and noticed Ruggie.

"Go away." You said coldly as you turned to leave, but as you did, you felt Ruggie grab your wrist.

"I get that you're mad, but please let me explain!" Ruggle said as his usual confident voice held a different tone to it. Worried? Scared? Even he wasn't sure.

"Whats to explain?" You snapped as you pulled your hand free. "You used me! Like, I didn't even matter to you!" You yelled as you turned to glare at Ruggie with fresh tears in your eyes. "I liked you, but you never-"

"I like you too!" Ruggie yelled as he cut you off. It wasn't the way he had planned to confess, but he got the feeling that if he didn't get this out now, that you would just disappear from his life.

Noticing that you had frozen up at his sudden statement, he took this time to explain. "I did...take advantage of you at first. I always need money for myself and my family back home. I'll do whatever I must to provide them with help, but I was wrong." Ruggie said as his ears on his head lowered slightly. "You're not like other people. You're...a good person, and the more I took from you, the more I realized I was wrong. You trusted me, and I took advantage of that."

As Ruggie spoke, you said nothing as you listened. You felt like you were seeing a rare side of him. The usual laid-back hyena now seemed on edge.

"I'm sorry." Ruggie said as he rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced away from you. "I really do like you and the time we've spent together, and I know I messed that up..." he mattered softly with a small blush and a frown. "I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I wanted to apologize and tell you how I felt..." he said, and when you didn't respond, the hyena sighed before turning around. As he started to leave, he suddenly felt his body stumble forward a bit as arms wrapped around his waist and something pressed against his back. Confused, Ruggie glanced over his shoulder and noticed you had hugged him from behind with your head pressed against his back.

"I am mad." You muttered softly as you hid your face against Ruggie's back. "And upset."

Hearing this, Ruggie said nothing as he turned to look ahead and made no effort to move from your hold.

"If you really care about me, you have to make this up to me." You said, which caused Ruggie's ears to perk up a bit.

"If you want me to pay you back, it might take a bit. I've...already sent the money I took back to my village." He said.

"No. I don't care about the money." You said as you gently tighten your hold against the hyena. "I want to go out. On...a d-date." You whispered as you felt your face growing hot with embarrassment.

At her request, Ruggie's eyes went wide for a moment. A date? With him? At that thought, Ruggie smiled as he felt a new warmth build up in his chest. Reaching down, he removed your arms from his waist before he spun around and pulled you into his chest with a hug. "I can agree to a date." He said with a soft playfulness to his voice.

Feeling the heaviness from earlier fading away, you glanced up at Ruggie with a small smile. "If the date goes well, I guess I can forgive you."

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Ruggie just grinned as he tried to hide how happy he felt. "Deal." While he had his face school with a grin onnthe inside, he felt himself freaking out! He had a date with Y/N! Was this real!?

Looks like he would need to pick up some extra work to make their date amazing.

[joels-shitty-puns]

Could I make a request please?

Either a Joel or Pedro x Reader, where he is head over heels for the reader who is really bubbly and sweet and happy and a mom friend for everyone but who is oblivious to any romantic overtures whatsoever? And where Joel or Pedro catch them crying for the first time ever and they try and hide it and go back to cooking for the friend group or whatever and Joel/Pedro get the reader to open up about what made them cry and essentially it's that someone turned them down on a dating app and it's just further confirmation that the reader will never find love or actually be a mom? Plus-sized reader preferred but definitely not required? And your choice on if it's smutty or not.

I've been reading your plus sized reader x Pedro series and loving it!!! So much emotion and genuine positivity that I couldn't help but ask for more when I felt a bit down about this today.

All my best!

Dear @jenniferpendragon,

Hi!!! I've never had a request before, I didn't know what to do with myself. Thank you. And thank you so much for your kind words about my musician fic! I'm so glad people like it.

I'm sorry you were feeling down today. If by "this" you mean you experienced the dating app situation, I'm so sorry. Love is out there for you. I know how hard it is to wait, feeling like nobody wants you, but I know it'll happen. Hang in there. ❤️

I hope you like this fic! I liked your prompt and my mind ran wild. It's way longer than I thought it would be and also I'm unsure about it, but hopefully it makes you feel a little better.

___________

Cookies 'n Scream

Pairing: No-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Plus-sized!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!! MDNI. Poor body image, fat shaming, food guilt, food mentions, unprotected P in V, oral, kissing, fingering, pregnancy mention, baby making sex (?), I think that's all of it but if I missed something let me know.

Other stuff: Reader is AFAB. In case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

This is the first smut I've ever written and published, yikes. Hope it's decent.

__________

"Look what I bought today," you chimed in a sing-song voice while waving the DVD in front of Joel. 

"No way. Zombie Slayer 6?!" Joel and Tommy yelled in unison.

"Yep! You know it!" you beamed. "I say tonight we pop this bad boy in. Tomorrow's Halloween, it's perfect."

"YES!" chimed in Sarah and Ellie, Joel's daughter and adopted daughter, roughly the same ages in their early teens.

"Absolutely not! You two are too young for this gore, you'll be up for weeks." Maria pointedly gave an eyebrow to her husband Tommy. "You guys watch the movie, I'll take the kids and we have a girl's night. We can watch Practical Magic and make cookies. Then tomorrow we'll all go trick-or-treating." The girls were pleased with this compromise and began running up to their bedrooms, chatting frantically about their costumes and which houses were allegedly going to have full-size candy bars this year.

"Really? Zombie movies? They're just kids. They aren't old enough to deal with that kind of thing," Maria said to you, judging your lack of parenting skills.

"Sorry…" you said sheepishly.

Truthfully, Halloween was your favorite holiday and always has been. You loved the spooky aspect of it, but you also loved that you could be anyone you wanted, if only for a night. For once you weren't just "the fat girl" or whatever other mean things people thought about you. You could be Wonder-Woman, or Ariel, the Grim Reaper, or a ghost. You could even eat all the sugary snacks you wanted and nobody questioned it, because Halloween was a time to indulge in candy.

If there's one thing you're sad you didn't get to enjoy on Halloween, it was the thought of being with someone you love. You'd always wanted someone to dress up in a couples costume together. Or go to a pumpkin patch for a cute little date and pick pumpkins together. You'd even dreamed about someday having a little pumpkin of your own. Picking out a little baby costume, taking them out door to door while they tried to say "trick or treat" but didn't quite know how to say such big words yet. The thought of them getting spooked by a scary decoration and running back to their daddy's arms. Your handsome brave husband, holding them close and shushing them, rubbing their little back to make it all okay. Finally the three of you would go home, tuck the little one in, sort through the candy and maybe take some for the parent tax. Then you'd flop down on the bed together before sharing a different kind of treat.

Knocking you out of your daydream, the girls ran down the stairs, backpacks on their backs, still loudly chatting about Halloween. You sighed, Maria taking the kids out towards her house.

Tommy clapped his hands together excitedly and grabbed his phone and keys. "I'm picking us up a pizza. You two better not start this damn movie without me," he warned, gesturing with his fingers from his eyes to yours and then across to his brother's before ducking out the door. You laughed and headed towards the kitchen, starting to make a quick batch of cookies before Tommy returned. Joel stood awkwardly trying to help, but mainly was just sneaking bites of dough. "Knock it off Joel! There won't be any cookies left with you around." You elbowed him while he popped another glob into his mouth with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes while he argued with you. "Whatever. My brother doesn't need these cookies anyway. He doesn't deserve your bakin', darlin'." He ate more dough.

You couldn't help but feel your chest flutter with butterflies at his nickname, but you tried to ignore them. "Oh yeah, and what about me?" You pouted up at him. "Don't I deserve any cookies?" 

He put his finger on his lip as if deep in thought. "Hmmm… I dunno darlin'. Not sure if I could handle you if you get much sweeter." He winked.

"But I guess you deserve some too.." he plopped a wad of dough into your mouth, running his finger on your lip as he pulled his hand away. 

You smiled, cheeks feeling warm, and chewing the soft, sugary dough.

"Oh, Joel. You're too much.." you avoided his eyes, looking down at the mixer and pretending to be busy with the cookies. 

Why can't I get a man like Joel? You thought to yourself.

Two years ago, you had moved into your new house and met your neighbors, Tommy and Maria, Maria still very pregnant at the time. The three of you became fast friends and it wasn't long before you met Tommy's brother Joel. You were instantly enamored with him. His curly brown hair, mixed with silvery gray streaks, and those deep, gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. Although he could be a grump at times, it was mainly with his brother or his job, and he never showed it towards you. To you he was as sweet as the cookies you were eating.

You instantly developed a little crush on him and it seemed like he was over at his brother's house, or yours, more often than not. The two of you spent time together alone as well, watching movies, talking, doing whatever. Things felt so simple with him, and you knew he would always be there if you needed help with anything. With him, you never felt fat. You never felt ugly. You didn't feel self-conscious. You were just you. He was just him. 

As your friendship progressed, your crush developed quickly into love. But you knew deep down there was no way he could ever feel the same. He was too handsome and charming to ever go for a woman like you, so you pushed down your feelings as best as you could, and even tried some dating apps to try and find someone else to fill the empty space in your heart.

What you didn't know was that Joel was absolutely head-over-heels, smitten with you, from the moment he laid eyes on you at his brother's backyard barbecue. Sure he loved his brother, but nobody wants to spend that much time at their sibling's house. He came over constantly, hoping to see you, until eventually you became close enough that he didn't have to make a scene at his brother's house to get your attention. He could just go to yours. 

Tommy constantly teased him about it, and Maria couldn't help but notice the way you looked at Joel either. Even the kids could tell. The girls loved you like a mother, though you'd never see it. It seemed that it was obvious to everyone but you and him. Joel would flirt, try to gently touch you, be sweet, but you never picked up on it. Although you never pushed away his attempts, you never seemed to reciprocate either, so Joel just figured you didn't like him that way. But he couldn't help flirting, touching, staring at you. And if you didn't protest, he didn't plan to stop. He couldn't if he tried.

While the two of you talked, the cookies, what was left of them, baked in the oven. Finally Tommy came in, two large pizzas in hand. "Now I better not see that movie playing! I warned you two."

He noticed the black television screen and wandered to the kitchen. "Good. You waited for me- oh man! You made cookies? My favorite," he said with grabby hands towards the first pan, still cooling on the stove. 

"Now, don't spoil your dinner. You just brought pizza home, let's eat." You shot a knowing look with Joel after the two of you were practically full already with cookie dough.

"Fine. Whatever, mom." Tommy took a plate from you, sliding a piece of pizza onto his plate and heading towards the couch.

_____ 

An hour into the movie, you were all full with pizza and dessert, Tommy in the sofa chair on the side, you and Joel settled into the love seat. You leaned towards his right side, his right arm over the back of your seat. A blanket covered the two of you, and his left hand was crossed over his lap on top of the blanket, hoping you would hold it if you got scared. Whenever a jump scare did happen, you didn't grab for him, but at the slightest flinch, he would palm your knee, rubbing his thumb over you to calm you down. Such a nice guy. I'm so lucky to have him as my friend.

Once when Joel did this, Tommy caught the sight out of the corner of his vision. He rolled his eyes and gave a gagging face. Joel gave him a quick angry brother stare that made Tommy turn back toward the film.

At some point, you felt your pocket buzz. Peering under the blanket at your screen, you saw the little heart notification, letting you know it was one of the dating apps you downloaded. Heart beating faster, you excused yourself saying you wanted to get a drink. Upon entering the kitchen, you quickly opened the notification with shaky hands. You had sent out at least a half dozen matches to people, all turned down the second they saw your profile. The most recent had sent a message as well. "Seriously? Ur gross. Good luck finding anyone to date you lmao." Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked down at your body and pinched the fat of your stomach. You had four apps and had sent countless requests, matches, and swipes. Even guys who were big themselves had turned you down. You looked in the kitchen at the pile of cookies, the mostly empty pizza boxes, the bowl of Halloween candy. If the boys weren't here, you'd toss it all in the trash. You suddenly felt self-conscious. Your clothes were tight, your body was heavy and flabby, and you almost felt nauseous. The first sting of tears welled at your eyes, and you dashed off to your bedroom, hoping to quell these emotions before anyone would notice. You weren't ready to go back to the living room.

After a couple minutes, Joel had paused the TV to wait for your return. "She probably had to pee or something. Said she was gettin' a drink." Tommy nodded and the two of them talked. After about ten minutes had passed, Joel began to worry. Even Tommy began to wonder and finally said "where'd your girlfriend end up? It's been a while."

Joel shook his head at Tommy's name for you, but got up off the couch. "I'll go see what's up." He walked into the kitchen and didn't see you, so he kept walking through the house before finally starting upstairs. "Darlin'? You okay?" He still didn't see you, but upon approaching your bedroom door, he heard a soft sniffle.

He gently tapped on the door with his index finger's knuckle. "Sweetheart?" Your sniffling stopped and you quickly wiped your eyes, trying to hide your tears as he slowly opened the door.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to make you guys wait, I was just changing into some comfier clothes." He noticed you had switched from your favorite dress to some sweats and a baggy hoodie. You still looked beautiful to him, though he was a bit confused at the change. "I'll be right down, why don't you go start the movie again." He crossed the room to sit next to you on the bed. "I'm not going to start the movie. What's wrong, darlin'?" 

You pouted, trying to choke back more tears, but his gentle brown eyes made it hard to keep your emotions inside. Joel cupped your cheek, running his thumb gently under your eyes and catching a tear that made it past your walls. You'd never cried in front of Joel before. You made it a goal of yours to try and hide any sad emotions from people, especially him.

"I don't want to ruin the night, Joel. It's nothing. Let's just go back downstairs. I'll be right behind you."

Joel stood up and nodded his head, walking out the door and closing it gently behind him. 

You didn't think he'd actually leave. But it shouldn't surprise you. Who wouldn't leave you?

An aggressive sob ripped through your chest.

_____

Joel walked downstairs, joining his brother.

"You find her?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah I did. Look, she's not feeling too good right now. I think it's best we call it a night."

"Ah, man. She sick or somethin'?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah somethin' like that. I'll stay and take care of her. Can you maybe keep the kids tonight?" Joel answered, ushering Tommy out the door. Tommy gave him a look, but nodded and walked out the door towards his own house.

Joel closed the door behind him and walked back upstairs, stopping to grab a glass of water for you on the way. He knocked gently again before entering your bedroom, and you turned around, surprised to see him. "Joel? I thought you were watching the movie?"

"Nah, darlin' I could never leave you when you're upset. I sent Tommy home and he's gonna watch the girls tonight. Here, I brought you some water." He sat the water on the nightstand. "Now, you wanna tell me why you're cryin'?" He sat next to you, rubbing your back gently.

You took a sip of the water, set it back down on the nightstand, and sighed, looking down at your hands in your lap which held your cell phone.

"Well, I uh…" you cleared your throat gently. "I recently joined some dating apps..."

Joel's heart took a slight stab, but he pushed it down. You're the one needing comfort, not him.

"I guess, I dunno… I know it's kinda silly, but I've been feeling kinda lonely and y'know... I'm getting older. I'm running out of time to have babies. But, I really just want someone to call mine. Someone to laugh with and go on dates with and…" you tapered off, not wanting to admit your desire for cuddles, kisses, and love-making. 

"Oh, sweet girl," he held you in his arms. "That's nothing to feel shy or silly about. It's natural to want those things. But why are you cryin'? Did somethin' happen?"

"I just… I haven't gotten any matches. Everyone I've sent anything to has denied me, and-" you sniffled and Joel pulled you tighter. "Shh, shh, sweet girl, it's okay. Those people on those apps, they don't know what they're missin' out on. They don't see how beautiful and sweet y'are. They wouldn't know how to treat you right anyway. If they can't see how wonderful you are, they don't deserve to be with ya anyway."

"Thank you Joel…" you muttered. "But… it's not just that. I got a message when we were watching the movie and I went into the kitchen to read it, and-" you handed him your phone with a sniffle. Joel pulled away from you, holding the phone back a bit to read it with his bad vision. As he read it, his jaw and fists clenched. It may have been the first time Joel saw you cry, but it was also the first time Joel got angry when it was just the two of you.

"If I knew where this asshole little boy lived, I'd go over there right now and kick his ass for saying something like that to you" he seethed. "I can't believe anyone would say something like that to you."

You picked at a hangnail on your finger, still staring at your lap. Finally Joel took a breath and looked at you again. "Darlin'. You don't - you don't believe that guy do you?" He asked while rubbing your back again.

"Maybe…" you felt tears run down your cheeks. "I mean, he's right, isn't he? I'm not attractive or skinny. Nobody wants me, not even any of these guys on this app. Even the guys who aren't skinny don't want me either."

"Sweetheart. That's just not true. Look at me-" he lifted your chin with his left hand, right arm still holding you close. You hesitantly met his gaze, your wet eyes looking into his gentle browns. "Those men, if you even wanna call them that, they wouldn't know what beautiful was if it slapped them across the face. You're the most beautiful, sweet, funny woman I've ever met. Any man would be lucky to have you." He took a deep breath before admitting, "I'd be lucky to have you."

"What-?" You interrupted him.

"Darlin'... I never want to push your boundaries, but you don't see how often I flirt with you, tease you, and touch you? You don't see how smitten I am with you?" You frowned, brows furrowing as you picked through your memory. "I thought you were just a nice guy. Just a friend. I didn't… I didn't think you could ever like me as more than a friend, so I just ignored the butterflies I got around you." 

You searched his eyes, waiting for a joke, or your alarm to go off and wake you up from this dream.

"Sweetheart, I've been in love with you since just about the time I saw you walk across my brother's lawn towards me. I just figured y'wasn't interested in me that way."

"Joel," you laughed. "I've felt the same way."

He smiled, once again tilting your chin, yet this time pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, but held so much love and meaning, that the two of you couldn't help but smile in the middle of it. He pulled away, "and by the way, y'aren't old either. If anyone's old here, it's me. But if you want babies, I'll give you all the babies you want. But you already got two girls who love you. Sometimes I think they even love y'more than me," he laughed.

You smiled at him and nodded "I do love those girls like they're my own. But I would still like a little baby someday too."

He kissed you again, more passionately this time, licking your lip until you opened up and let your tongues dance together. He pulled away, running his nose across your jaw before stopping at your ear. "Only one way to give you that, darlin'." He gently bit your earlobe before kissing down your neck. 

You sighed. "Joel… please."

"Please, what darlin'?" He purred, kissing your clavicle through your baggy shirt. 

"Please, make love to me" you answered breathlessly, tipping your head back so he could better access your neck. 

"Take these baggy clothes off then, baby. Lemme see you," he gave you one last kiss on the lips before the two of you began undressing, stopping every few seconds to share grabby kisses. Once undressed, he pulled you into him and kissed you deeply, your hands on his chest. With a swift move, he tumbled the two of you sideways so that you were now on the bed, him on his back and you straddling his hips. You leaned down, kissing his lips, while the slight movement against his waist caused you both to moan at the feeling. "Baby I've wanted this for so long. Let me take care of you," Joel whispered, thumb stroking your cheek. He flipped the two of you over, slithering down towards your waist, where you spread your legs for him. He groaned, looking at how evident it was you wanted him, pumping his already hard cock a few times. Flattening himself on his stomach, he gently touched your thighs and began to kiss your legs. "Y'sure you still want this, baby?" 

"Yes Joel, please" you answered, tense with anticipation. Without a beat, he tipped his head down, licking a stripe up your slit. You let out a sigh, hips bucking toward his face. "I know baby, I know." His low timbre vibrated through your core. He gave a quick peck to your clit before swirling his tongue around it and heading downwards, licking between your folds while his nose continued to put pressure on your clit.

His fingers slid through, touching your entrance in a questioning way. "Yes, Joel, please" you cried, wiggling closer, your hands tugging at his hair. 

With your pleas, he inserted his finger, curling upwards before adding a second and finally hitting that spot inside you that made your breathing catch in your chest. He stroked, while still licking gently, occasionally sucking on your clit. Before long you were gripping the sheets with one hand, his hair in your other, as you finally tumbled into your orgasm. "So beautiful, baby" he coaxed, licking you through the waves of pleasure. 

"Think you're ready for me?" He looked up at you over your plush tummy. "Yes, Joel, please I'm so ready."

He stalked over your body, kissing his way up. He kissed your vulva, "I love this," he purred. He kissed your stomach, running his hands across your sides. "I love this," he licked. "I love these," he massaged your breasts, kissing each nipple. "I love you" he finally looked you in the eyes, kissing you on the lips deeply. 

"I love you too." You kissed him back, running your hands through his messy hair, down his broad shoulders and back. His hand snaked around, grabbing his cock and giving a few strokes through your folds until he was wet enough. Finally he pushed against your entrance, slowly entering you, giving you enough time to adjust to his size. Your fingers clawed at his back as he finally pushed all the way in, the two of you sighing in relief. 

Your body adjusted, and with a kiss to his nose, you prompted him to move. "Okay Joel, I'm ready."

Slowly, he began to thrust, pulling slowly out and gently pushing back in, eventually picking up to a pleasurable pace. He kissed you like his lips couldn't be away for longer than a few seconds, and it didn't take much before you were barreling towards your second release of the evening. "I'm almost there, Joel" you kissed, grabbing him around his back. "Me too, baby. Come for me." His thrusts were getting sloppy, but you could tell he was holding himself back for you. His fingers drifted over your clit, giving a few circular strokes and causing you to shudder around him, your eyes slamming shut with a moan. He followed right behind you, a couple messy strokes before pumping into you, filling you up and working you both through it. As the two of you came down from your high, he kissed you passionately, holding you like you were the only thing in the world. 

The two of you lay on your sides, you snuggled into his chest, his chin resting on your head before eventually he became soft and slipped out of you. You both sighed at the loss, but held each other until you rolled out to use the restroom and clean up. When you returned from the bathroom, you asked if he wanted to stay and he said yes. 

You lent him an extra toothbrush and the two of you stood side by side, brushing your teeth and stealing glances at each other in the mirror with matching lovesick smiles. Things felt domestic and comfortable as the two of you walked back to bed, sharing soft kisses snuggled to each other. Having completely forgotten why you were upset earlier, you fell asleep curled into his arms, full of love and hope for the future with a man you loved. 

_____

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and breakfast cooking. You strolled down the stairs and saw Joel, wearing just his boxers and tee shirt, grabbing a slice of toast from the toaster. 

At the sound of your steps, he turned and smiled softly. "Morning, baby."

"Good morning, handsome," you replied, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

"I could get used to that," Joel replied, squeezing your ass and pulling his face away to look in your eyes.

"Joel! You devil," you giggled, gently smacking his arm. "You ain't seen nothing yet, baby" he nibbled your jaw.

After the two of you ate breakfast, you shared a shower, and he threw on a pair of extra clothes he keeps in his car. It would be hard to keep his visit a secret from his brother with his car still in your driveway, but as far as Tommy was concerned, you were sick and Joel was taking care of you.

The two of you made the walk over to Tommy's house to get the girls and participate in Halloween activities for the day. Walking in the door, Tommy pulled you into a hug. "Hey, we were worried about you! Are you feeling better? Were you sick?"

You looked up at Joel, sharing a knowing look. "I was just a little upset about something, but I'm feeling much better now," you smiled. 

Tommy gasped. "FINALLY!!!!" He threw his hands in the air while Maria grinned. 

"Cough it up Tommy!" Sarah held out her hand to her uncle. "You know I had October." He handed her a five dollar bill.

"You bet money on us?" Joel asked in disbelief, rubbing your back. 

"Obviously. You guys have both been pining since you first met," Ellie answered, rolling her eyes. "It was too entertaining for us to interfere though," Sarah added with a smirk.

You stared down at your shoes, feeling embarrassed, but Joel grabbed your hand. You smiled up at him and it felt like everything was aligned. "Yep, we finally took the step. And now I get to do this whenever I want," Joel pulled you into his arms for a deep kiss. 

"UGH. GROSS, DAD." Ellie and Sarah groaned, walking out of the room.

You both laughed, sharing a smile and heading towards the group to get ready for Halloween with your family.

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (3): Don't Leave Me Alone

chronology: chapter 1 chapter 2 interlude 1 chapter 3 interlude 2

a/n: well well well. here i am again. not as sad as interlude 2 i promise. i put them in chronologic order up top for all the new fans of this fic. focusing on gale and cass this chapter. i've appreciated all the screams in my ask box (i will explain anything about spook x bucky i've got going on in my head whenever you want, shoot me a dm) and will work on more interludes this weekend. keep the prompts coming! good a good mix of current & post war bucky x spook. love you guys and enjoy this longer one in celly of the finale.

Of all the places for them to bump into each other, no one should have been surprised it was in the base library. It was small and quiet and didn’t have the nicest lighting. But it had plenty of books on plenty of topics and very few people ever frequented it. Normally, it was her place to unwind and seek solace. Breathe in the scent of the worn bindings and get lost for a few hours. Cass wasn’t sure if John even knew it existed so it only made sense that this is where Gale would find her first.

Gale Cleven had been in communication with John Egan since their first day of basic training. Had watch him fly and crash on occasion. Watched him flirt and dance and take girls home. Only a few times had watched him give a piece of his heart and never once had he watched it go anywhere. When he had sent him the unicorn to pass along as an apology to a bar owner in Greenland, John had written one line at the end that made him more confused than the figurine had. A little note at the bottom: P.S. I think I’ve found my girl. 

Gale hadn’t known then, wouldn’t know for awhile, that Bucky had only seen her across the airfield when he had written that. Hadn’t even spoken a word to her. Had taken one look at the way every man on that base stopped and parted for her. One look at the way she navigated herself around the airfield while never looking up from the paper in front of her. John Egan had been gone like a freight train.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Cooper?” She was in an armchair in the back of the library, curled up as much as her uniform would allow, thumbing through a book on Prussian history with two others opened and balancing precariously on either side of her and a stack of yet-to-be-read books piled on the floor. “I don’t mean to intrude. I just thought I’d introduce myself. Gale Cleven, friends call me Buck.” 

“My friends call me Cass.” She shook his hand as firmly as she could, her right arm in a sling. “You know, John has a whole thing planned for us to meet. He’ll be heartbroken.” Him and Cass had spent the night on a blanket in the flowers, just like she had wanted upon her return. He told her all about his best friend Buck and that introducing her to him was almost like her meeting his sisters or mother. Joked that she needed Buck’s approval before he could take her on another date.

“We can work on our story. Let him still have his moment.” Cass smiled and motioned for Gale to take the chair next to her. She placed a notecard between the pages to keep her place before giving him her full attention. 

“I’m sorry your first impression of me was when I got off that plane yesterday. I promise I’m not always that dramatic.” Gale laughed. The swelling in her eye had gone down slightly and there was color back to her cheeks. Maybe a couple of new bruises on her neck but he assumed his friend was more likely the culprit of those than the secret police.

“I barely noticed over the commotion of Bucky.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she noted shyly. All of a sudden her fingernails were much easier to look at than Buck’s gaze.

“I’ve known Bucky, John, a long time. You’ve enraptured him, Lieutenant.” Gale hadn’t expected such a reaction either. Bucky had always been somewhat impulsive, sure, but always with a personal gain in mind. Win the bet. Win the girl. Win the game. But yesterday had been near primal. A base instinct to protect. To put himself in between her and those who would do her harm. It had come as natural as breathing.

“Your word choice is inspiring, Major Cleven.” Her eyes twinkled. She knew.

“Has he serenaded you yet? Then you’ll really be inspired.” 

“I don’t know if that is what I would call it. I haven’t worked my way to that level of affection yet.” He thought back to the desperation in John’s voice when he called Cass’ name yesterday. Thought back to the venom that replaced it when someone got in the way of him reaching her. 

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.” She ducked away from his gaze again.

“Don’t tell him I’m telling you this, but I’m pretty enraptured by him, too.” Gale reached over and squeezed her hand, locking the secret between them, and stood up to let her get back to her reading and to find the book he had come here looking for in the first place. “Cass? I’ve got a favor to ask. It’s kind of a big one.”

“Something wrong, Buck?” 

“No. Just something that’s been on my mind since he left.” He mulled over the words for a moment. “He’s got a big heart. Does a good job at hiding it. I’ve been doing my best to protect it since the day I met him but if something happens to me up there…”

“You don’t even need to ask, Gale.” She would be his armor. Protect John Egan the way her soul had told her she should from the second she laid eyes on him. Had recognized the purity within him and felt the need to protect it. Cassandra Ann Cooper had been gone for John Egan the moment he stepped foot in England.

Gale nodded in appreciation. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” He walked to a shelf out of her sightline and Cass sighed deeply. She had faced down some scary people. But that interaction had her stomach in more knots than any of them. She had met, and talked to, and hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of, Major Gale Cleven. Cass smiled. John was going to be so happy when he found out.

----

The man in question was having a bit of a devious streak. Decided he was going to be early to pick up Cass instead of simply on time. Decided, after five minutes of waiting, that it had been too long since he last kissed her. Mary rolled her eyes when he came strolling in, thinking better of it when she opened her mouth to ask what he was up to. 

“Mary, I swear if Major Egan is early, tell him I’m not ready.” He smiled as he heard Cass answer his knock.

“Too late, Spook. Let me in so I can see whatever potions you're brewing to look so goddamn beautiful.”

“Are you calling me a witch?” Her voice was closer this time. John pressed his palm to the door where he imagined hers was.

“I miss your face,” he provided simply.

“I have curlers in my hair.” Her mother had never let her father see her with her curlers in. Even after thirty or so years of marriage. Told Cass it took away the allure of femininity. 

“Good. I’ve been imagining what you might look like in my bed in the morning-” He almost fell through the door when she opened it, her fist around his tie and all confidence choking off in his throat. 

“No remarks like that in the hallway where anyone can hear you.” Cass sat back down at her vanity for the finishing touches of mascara and powder. 

“Afraid they won’t find you so spooky anymore?” There weren’t too many artifacts of her life for him to look at. Photos of what she presumed were her parents and her siblings. A pile of letters with a return address in South Carolina. A jewelry box on top of her dresser.

“I don’t mind the nickname. I never had one growing up.” John stopped to admire her in the mirror as she pulled the curlers from her hair. He swallowed. It did look like he imagined she would be waking up next to him. How she would be after spending the night letting him worship her.

“Hey, wait on that for a second.” Cass put the tube of lipstick down and looked at him with a question across her brow. “Don’t want to mess it up when I kiss you.” She smiled and crooked her finger to beckon him forward, standing on her vanity chair as he got closer.

“So handsome,” she sighed as she took the opportunity of her newfound height to really take him in. She knows he would disagree but Cass found something ethereally beautiful about John Egan. The slope of his nose and the angles of his cheeks. The soft hair on his upper lip that she had found such joy in kissing. 

“I’m glad you think so.” He started with just a quick peck, enjoying the look of annoyance on her face. 

“That’s not worth holding up my lipstick application for.” John took that as a challenge. He felt guilty for only a second as he tangled his fingers into the curls at the back of her head and held her steady. John was trying to be mindful of the healing cut on her lip but she was pushing herself closer and closer and he had no choice but to give her more and more. It wasn’t slow. It was a spark spinning itself into a fire. An ember catching fire on all the things around it. He was a man starved for her oasis. She was a girl all too eager to tantalize him in the desert. 

John slid his arms to wrap tightly around her waist, lifting her against his body and turning so her back was against the wall. Instinctually, she wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped into his mouth at the sensation. “Fuck, Cass.” 

“John, we have to slow down.” She was enjoying his lips that had moved to her throat all much. Was so flushed with desire for him that beads of sweat were collecting in her collarbone. Cass unwrapped her legs from around his waist and John smiled with pride when her knees buckled ever so slightly. 

“You’re right. Do this the right way. The slow way.” He straightened his tie and bent down when Cass reached up to fix his hair.

“Doesn’t have to be slow forever. Sir.” She knew exactly what she was doing when she said it. Relished in the way it made his eyes darken with lust again immediately. “We’re going to be late to dinner. And I already made a literally bloody first impression with Gale.” 

“Come to think of it,” he noted as she expertly coated the red pigment around her lips, “it might’ve been more fun to try and kiss it off of you, Lieutenant.” 

“There’s always later.” 

He watched her hips sway to the Jeep, held her hand while he drove and smiled so wide it hurt when she slid across the bench and kissed his cheek. It all felt so normal. Felt like he was back home taking a girl to a movie and milkshakes on a Friday night. Felt like being with her was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Before you ask, no, we are not going back to the pub tonight.”

“Oh?” she asked as they drove right past. “Our memories from the other night incapable of being topped?”

“Just thought we would meet him somewhere nicer. This little bistro up the way a little bit.” 

“John Egan, are you nervous?” 

“Maybe.” She laughed but snuggled into his side. 

“It’s very sweet that you love Gale so much.”

“Don’t tell him. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Cass thought back to her conversation with Gale in the library. About the mushy heart right behind the very ribcage her cheek was resting against. 

“You know, I’ve been told I’m good at keeping secrets.”

----

Gale watched from the window by the table as John’s Jeep pulled into view, smiling to himself as Cass held his friend’s and kissed him. Stayed close to whisper reassuring words and knock his nose against hers to seal the promise.

“Bucky you lucky son of a bitch,” he muttered. They held hands as they walked in and when she let go to shake Gale’s hand, firmer this time as the sling hadn’t gone with her dress, John had kept his hand on the small of her back. Looking back on it, Gale doesn’t think there was a moment the whole night they weren’t touching. 

“Cass, this is the best man I’ve ever met, Major Gale Cleven. But I call him Buck.”

“Gave everyone else no choice but to call me Buck, too.” John pulled her chair out for her and pushed it in, sitting straight as a rod in his own until her arm locked around his comfortably. He visibly relaxed and kissed her forehead when she offered it.

The conversation flowed smoothly, John none the wiser the two of them had already met. Buck had her giggled over stories of a younger Bucky, taking her back to their days when they were first learning to fly. She asked about Marge and John noticed the way her chin dropped into her hand and she watched Gale with adoration as he spoke about the woman he had loved since he was a child. And would love until the day they died. 

“She sounds absolutely lovely, Gale.” Cass reached across the table and squeezed his hand when his gaze turned melancholy for a moment. 

“If you’re crazy enough to see it through with this one,” his chin jutted towards John, “I’m sure you and Marge will be thick as thieves.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad of a guy,” he spoke around bites of his dinner.

“John, you’ve got a little…” Cass motioned to the corner of her mouth to signal a bit of sauce was lingering on his. Without even really thinking about it, she used the corner of her own cloth napkin to dab away the offense. 

“Better?”

“Perfect.” Gale could lose his stomach with the sweetness. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me to the powder room.” John stood as she left, watching her with a dazed smile on his face until Buck coughed.

“She’s something, Bucky. A real class act. Whip smart. Has you wrapped around her finger many times over.” John hummed around his sip of whiskey. 

“I’ll keep wrapping myself around it as long as she’ll have me.”

“Yeah? I should tell you she’s too good for you.” 

“You’d be right. I don’t deserve someone like her.” He swirled his glass pensively. “You know I love you and I love Marge and I love the little world you two build whenever you're together. I’ve always wanted that but kept getting in my own way. Chasing the immediate instead of being patient. Cass and I, it’s going fast because of this fucked world we live in. And I’m not getting in my own way because I’ve found a girl who won’t let me.”

“Watching you two, I think it’s real, John.”

“I think it is too,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “We’ve got to make it through this thing, Buck. I came here with nothing to lose but now I’ve got something I couldn’t stand to.” There was something desperate in his eyes. The same look Gale had seen yesterday when he was fighting the officer to reach Cass. 

“Feels nice to have someone to live for, doesn’t it?” he teased.

“Nice, scary, like I’m being mauled by Meatball.” They both laughed in spite of the truth. “You think she’s smitten with me?” Gale rolled his eyes.

“I do.” Bucky nodded.

“Good.” Cause he thinks he might love her. 

“Sorry for the prolonged departure.” She came back with a  smile, John standing and kissing her gently. “Major, I just reapplied that.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Didn’t want to. 

He watched her and Gale banter back and forth the rest of the night with a smile on his face. Cass was the first girl he was introducing to his best friend, wished it was under better circumstances. Wished he had met her somewhere the threat of not making it to tomorrow didn’t exist. That he could court her properly and take her to the drive in and canoeing on the lake by his parents house and listen to a ballgame on the radio in the summer. Wished he had the courage to tell her and Buck that he was scared of losing them both. That he had been up there once and would back up a hundred times more if it meant they could live in a safer world. 

And one day, after all three of them had done their part to end this war, John will mention this dinner at Buck’s wedding. And Buck will mention it when John asks him to be their child’s Godfather. But they didn’t know what they would have to go through to get there. That John’s fear of losing them both will come true. And that he would almost lose himself in the process of getting them back.

[spectersgirl]

Hi! I saw your requests were open and was wondering if I could request a fic? I had this idea of Harvey x wife!reader where they think they are the last ones there for the night and put on one of his records and start slow dancing. Maybe only to find out Mike is still there too? Thanks! ♥️

This request physically hurt to read because it's so damn sweet 😭ily for that.

Wonderful Tonight

Harvey Specter x Reader

It was getting late and both you and Harvey were still at the office. Everyone else had long gone home, the halls now still and quiet, but Harvey had been swamped all week and you generally preferred to head home whenever he did, so you found yourself tying up some loose ends on your own cases.

You finally looked down at the clock on your computer and decided it was time to attempt to drag Harvey home to spend at least a little quality time with you before you both passed out for the night. Gathering your things and switching off your desk lamp, you walked down the hallway toward his office. The closer you got, you were able to pick up on the record he had playing on his record player. You smiled softly to yourself as you went, finally reaching his door. He was standing with his back to you, facing out the large picture window and looking down at the city.

Quietly, you set your bag and coat down on the ground and walked over behind him, wrapping your arms around him and resting your chin on his shoulder. He smiled at your touch and turned in your arms, immediately leaning down to kiss you.

"Hi love," he said softly. "I was just thinking about coming to get you."

"Looks like I beat you to it," you said with a smirk, letting him go and sitting on his couch. "Did this thought have anything to do with the song you're playing?"

Harvey smiled wider, he hadn't noticed what song it was until now. "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton played through his speaker, the song you had shared your first dance as a married couple to.

"It didn't, but now that you're here, and our first dance song is on..." He stood with an arm outstretched, waiting for you to take his hand.

You smiled and obliged his request, wrapping your arms around his neck, and his around your waist. You slow-danced around his office, thoughts of the stressful week melting away as he dipped and twirled you around and around, just as he had the night of your wedding.

The song came to a close, and he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"Just as beautiful as the day we got married." Harvey whispered, leaning down to kiss you softly once again.

Neither of you noticed Mike standing in Harvey's doorframe, at least not until he could no longer help himself.

"Wow Harvey, you are literally never allowed to call me a softy ever again. That was the sweetest shit I've ever seen!" He exclaimed, amusement written all over his face.

"Mike, don't you have somewhere to be? Like perhaps at home with your girlfriend?" Harvey asked, pretending to be annoyed.

Truthfully, he didn't mind that Mike had seen his soft side, not really at least. Harvey was proud of the man he had become since meeting you, he'd told you this many times. Of course, he was still the great and powerful Harvey Specter when it came to working a case, but he didn't mind this side of himself so much as he used to.

"If you must know, I went home to my beautiful girlfriend hours ago but I came back to pick up a few things I forgot. I'll let you guys get back to that, but Harvey, please let your wife go home sometime soon instead of keeping her trapped in your office." Mike said with a smirk and a wink, leaving the two of you alone once again.

"Yeah Harvey, let your wife go home soon" you repeated, poking his chest. He smiled in response and walked to his desk, powering off his laptop and gathering a few items.

"Alright baby, let's go home."

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [1/?]

hello!! I've been wanting to write a longer h/c fic for awhile. This is the exposition/first installment to that (4.8k words).

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written for these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

“A wedding,” Vincent repeats.

“Yes,” Yves says. “A wedding.”

It’s his cousin Aimee’s wedding—she’s four years older than he is. Back when he’d gone with his family back to France over the summers, she’d been one of the people he’d grown quickly to look up to—someone who knew the ins and outs, it seemed, to every stage of life he was in the process of stumbling through.

Yves has always been used to being looked up to—one of the natural consequences, perhaps, of being the eldest in his immediate family—and he likes to think that he’s good at giving off the impression that he has things figured out. But he’d grown close to Aimee at their family reunions precisely because she was everything he tried to be: strong-willed and resilient, self-sufficient even in the face of hardship.

Aimee’s getting married to Genevieve—someone who Yves has only met a couple times, but who manages to be one of the sweetest people he’s ever met. All in all, it’s a wedding he wouldn’t miss under any circumstances.

Leon, his brother, and Victoire, his sister, will be there, along with Aimee’s friends and the rest of his extended family. The problem is that Leon keeps in touch with Mikhail. Mikhail let slip that Yves has been seeing Vincent. Leon told Victoire, who told Aimee. And now Aimee is offering to pay for Vincent’s plane ticket to their wedding in France in the spring—a bit of a last minute arrangement, but she’d sounded so excited at the prospect that Yves was finally seeing someone new (“I’d love to meet him,” she’d said over the phone, “would it be too much to ask him to take a couple days off work? Oh my gosh, please give me his contact details, I’ll send him an invitation,” and she’d sounded so excited about it that he hadn’t had it in him to turn her down).

“It’s very last minute,” he says, “but my cousin’s getting married, and she really wants to meet you. It’ll be some time in early March, in Provence. She says she’ll pay for your flight, if you want to go, but you’d probably have to take a couple days off.”

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking at him. “And you want me to be there?”

“Of course I do,” Yves says. “I think it’s more a question of whether you want to be there.”

Vincent looks back at him, his expression carefully blank. “Are you sure you want to introduce me to your family? That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that you’d take lightly.”

“They want to meet you,” Yves says. “And I wouldn’t mind introducing you. I think they would really like you.”

“It would be a waste of your time,” Vincent says, quietly, “to introduce me as someone you’re serious about if we’re just planning to break things off.”

Yves is well aware of the fact. This arrangement with Vincent—the trust he places in Vincent; the practiced familiarity, the feigned intimacy—has an expiration date. The fact that he doesn’t know when the expiration date is doesn’t change the fact that it will, inevitably, end—when Erika gets the point, or fades from Yves’s life entirely; when Vincent finds someone he considers worthy of pursuing in actuality; when either of them become interested in dating again. Whatever it is that ends up ending things, Yves knows: what he has with Vincent right now is strictly temporary. 

Perhaps it would be disingenuous to lie to his family about who exactly Vincent is to him. But then again, Yves thinks it isn’t much worse than any other relationship, with all of its ups and downs, all its hopes and uncertainties. It’s not like he can ever guarantee that a relationship is certain to work out, no matter how serious he feels about it in the moment. So is there really any harm to introducing Vincent as his current partner—as someone he feels certain about now, but maybe not always—and to leave it at that?

“It’s not really going to be my day, in the first place,” Yves says. “My relationship status is more of a conversation starter than anything. And even if you go by the timeline we told Erika, we haven’t even been together for a year. I don’t think my family will think much of it other than, like, a small and noncommittal window into what I’ve been up to. So it’s really up to you.”

“I think it would be fun,” Vincent says, “though only if you’re sure about having me there.”

“Great. I’m sure,” Yves says. “Everyone will love you.” He does think it’s true. Something about Vincent tends to have that effect, he thinks.

—

The fact that he and Vincent are traveling together is not exactly a secret.

Vincent agrees it’s best shared on a need-to-know basis—they won’t be the ones to bring it up, but if someone asks about it, they’ll answer honestly. It would be more work, Yves thinks, to have to coordinate lies about this.

But he runs into trouble not even two weeks later.

“So you and Vincent are taking the week off,” Cara says to him carefully, over lunch.

“Yes,” Yves says.

“Any plans?”

“I’m actually flying to France,” Yves tells her, uncertain about whether or not he should mention Vincent’s involvement—if Vincent has talked to Cara about this already, there’s no point in hiding anything, but he should be careful with the information he discloses otherwise. “One of my cousins is getting married there.”

“Oh,” Cara says, all too knowingly. “What a coincidence. Vincent told me he’s also planning on going to France.”

“I… heard,” Yves says, slowly. “He’s told me as much.”

“I didn’t realize France was such a popular tourist destination for march,” Cara says, smiling at him. “I thought most people went over the summer.”

“You know what they say,” Yves says. “France’s beauty knows no seasons.” 

“You should ask Vincent which part of France he’s visiting,” Cara says, with a smirk. “Maybe you guys can book a hotel together.”

Yves is positive he’s being laughed at. “It’s the third largest country in Europe,” he says. “I’m sure the chance of us ending up in the same region is statistically very low.”

“I think Cara knows we’re fake dating,” he laments to Vincent later, in the break room. “I mean, the dating part, not the fake part.”

Vincent blinks at him. “Did you tell her?”

“No,” Yves says. He doesn’t think they’ve been that obvious about it. “I just told her I was going to France. She made some undue assumptions.”

“Oh,” Vincent says. “I told her I was attending a wedding there.”

An impromptu trip to France, over the same week at the tail end of busy season, to attend a wedding. Separately. Yves is starting to understand where Cara's suspicions might’ve come from.

“That would do it,” he says.

Perhaps they really need to coordinate what a need-to-know basis means. Cara is, thankfully, not the type of person to gossip, from what Yves has gathered, but if their coworkers know, that could complicate things. “I don’t think she’ll say anything,” he says. “But I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d assume.”

Vincent seems to consider this. “It’s fine,” he says. “Though it might prove troublesome when we decide to end things.”

“We can figure that out when it happens,” Yves says.  

At some point in the foreseeable future, everything will go back to how it’s always been. Yves had been fine on his own for a long time before he’d met Erika. He’s sure he’ll be prepared for it when it happens.

—

The entire drive to the airport feels surreal.

Mikhail drives them. They leave at the crack of dawn—4am, on the dot. Victoire’s in the passenger seat, dozing off, and Leon, Vincent, and Yves are crammed into the backseat. 

Yves sits in the middle—there’s not much leg room to go around in the first place, but he tries to take up as little space as possible, mostly for Vincent’s sake. He and Leon have been crammed into far smaller cars on far longer road trips.

Leon says, “This is the earliest in the morning I’ve ever third wheeled.”

Victoire, who has her eyes shut, says, “It’s very nice to meet you, Vincent.”

“Likewise,” Vincent says. 

“Yves has told us all about you,” Leon says.

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking. “What has he said about me?”

“Mostly that you’re super hot,” Leon says. Yves, who is in a perfect position to elbow him, elbows him for that.

“You make me sound so shallow,” Yves says.

“But also that you’re really good at your job,” Leon continues, patting Yves on the leg. “Did you know Yves likes people who he’s slightly intimidated by?”

“I never said that,” Yves says.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Mikhail says. 

“You guys are conspiring against me,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs. 

Leon launches into a series of questions—about how they met, about who asked who out first, about what it’s like at work, about what kinds of things Vincent does for fun.

“No wonder Yves is totally whipped,” Leon says, after Vincent finishes telling a story about how he’d given a presentation at a conference in place of his then-boss, who had—due to unforeseen flight delays—found out last minute that she wouldn’t have been able to make it on time. Yves hasn’t heard this story before, but it doesn’t surprise him that Vincent would be able to pull that sort of thing off, even with such paralyzingly short notice. “You’re exactly his type.”

Just great. If anyone could dig a nice, fitting grave for him over the span of one conversation, Yves thinks, it would be younger brother. 

“I can’t believe he hasn’t invited you over for dinner yet,” Victoire says, her eyes still closed. How much of this conversation she’s actually been awake for, Yves can’t say.

She makes Yves promise that, after their trip to France, Vincent will be over for dinner. (“Sure,” Vincent says. “Just tell me the date in advance. I’ll clear my schedule.” Yves will have to apologize to him after this—for some reason, Vincent has an uncanny talent for ending up invited to half the things Yves is personally involved in.)

Yves is awake enough to hold a conversation, but he finds himself yawning mid-sentence on more than a few occasions. Vincent doesn’t so much as yawn at all over the entirety of the car ride. Yves has no idea if he’s always up this early, or if he’s just naturally immune to tiredness—another signature of his good genetics, next to the fact that he looks like he’s just stepped out of a photoshoot, or the fact that he manages to look good in everything he wears. Some people just win the genetic lottery, Yves supposes.

For some reason, he finds he feels a little more tired than usual. Waking up early is never easy, but usually he’d be distinctly more alert by now. There’s a strange, uncharacteristic heaviness to his limbs—it’s the kind of grogginess he only experiences when he hasn’t been getting enough sleep for awhile.

It’s fine. They have an eight hour flight ahead of them—they’ll be flying into Marseille, and then being driven up to Provence, where the wedding will be taking place. He can catch up on sleep over the flight.

As they’re unloading the suitcases from the back trunk, Vincent says, “Your family’s nice.”

Yves laughs. “I’m relieved they haven’t scared you off yet. Sorry for the… well, interrogation, by the way.”

“I can tell you’re close to them,” Vincent says, a little more quietly.

When Yves looks over, something about Vincent’s smile looks almost wistful. Yves wonders, briefly, how well Vincent has kept up with his own family. If he’d ever been packed into the backseat of a small car, back when he’d lived in Korea; if over some long road trip, he’d ever had to come up with increasingly inventive ways to pass the time. If his relatives ever teased him, then, about the crushes he’d had when he was younger, or anything else. If the ocean that was suddenly between them came with another, less tangible kind of distance, the kind that even phone calls and international flights can never quite bridge.

Yves doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know how he’d go about asking if he wanted to know. How is it that sometimes, he feels like he knows so much about Vincent, but other times, he feels like he knows almost nothing at all?

—

Aimee has booked him a seat next to Vincent. 

They’re a few rows away from the others—I wanted to seat everyone together, Aimee had texted him a few weeks back, but when I was booking Vincent’s ticket, the seats up front were all sold out, so I just moved you so you’d be sitting next to him. 

Now, he watches as Vincent pushes his briefcase gingerly into the overhead compartment.

“You must not be new to flying,” he says.

Vincent nods. “I’m not.”

“Eight more hours,” Yves says, taking the middle seat so that Vincent doesn’t have to. “It’ll be over in no time, especially if you take a nap.”

“I have some work to get done,” Vincent says. “Only after the plane takes off, though.”

Right—no electronics larger than a cell phone until they’re 30,000 feet in the air. “I thought this was supposed to be your week off.”

“It is,” Vincent says. “I just want to make sure everything’s still in one piece by the time I get back.”

Yves has never quite been comfortable on planes. It’s not that he’s afraid of flying, or that the turbulence bothers him—it’s more just the cramped space, the noise, the anticipation, the discomfort—all of it compounds. It’s usually difficult to get to sleep, but he’s so tired right now that maybe this flight will be an exception.

There’s just one problem: whoever is in charge of the air conditioning in the airplane cabin really hates him. Compared to Provence, New York’s climate is generally more extreme—colder in the winters, hotter in the summers—so all he has on him right now is a thin jacket. It’d be perfectly reasonable attire in most situations, except for the fact that this airplane in particular is unusually frigid. It’s definitely cold enough to be distinctly uncomfortable, especially considering that he’s just sitting in place. Yves crosses his arms, suppressing a shiver.

“Do you think Aimee will be convinced?” Vincent asks.

“Convinced?”

“That we’re together.”

“I’m sure she has better things to do than play detective over the state of my relationships,” Yves says, with a laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“It’s why you invited me,” Vincent says, “is it not?”

“Pardon?”

“To show the rest of your family that you’re not still hung up over Erika.”

“I invited you for a lot of reasons,” Yves says. “For one, you’re good company.”

“So are all your friends.”

“I thought we could both use a week off,” Yves adds. “It’s France, in the springtime. What could be better?”

Vincent says, “I need you to tell me what to do.”

“What?”

“Your cousin paid for my flight,” he lists, counting off his fingers. “Your family is paying for the hotel. Your best friend drove me to the airport.” He says these things as if he’s listing off all the ways in which he’s indebted to them. “It’d be easiest for both of us if you told me how to make a good impression. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

Yves blinks. “I don’t think you’d need my help to make a good impression.”

“You could’ve taken anyone with you, but you’re taking me,” Vincent presses. “There has to be something you need me for.”

If there was nothing, you wouldn’t have invited me. The sentiment hangs between them, unspoken. But Yves can see it in Vincent’s expression. 

“My favorite cousin is getting married,” Yves says, fervently. “To her fiancee—who is also super cool, by the way. My whole family is going to be there. Do you think I’d choose to endure an eight hour plane ride sitting next to someone I didn’t like?”

“Maybe,” Vincent says.

Yves shakes his head. “It’s true that my family wants to meet you. But if I didn’t want you to come to France with me, I could’ve come up with an excuse.”

He twists around in his seat so that he’s facing Vincent directly. Narrowly resists the urge to reach out and grab Vincent’s hand. “I like spending time with you. I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t. You don’t have to do anything out of the ordinary—if you have fun on this trip, that’s more than enough.”

Vincent stares back at him, his eyes wide. 

Yves has a feeling he’s said too much. It isn’t Vincent’s fault for assuming this is all just for show, considering everything that’s come before. Part of it is, but another part of him just really wants Vincent to have fun—to take in the sights at the gorgeous venue Aimee’s sent him pictures of, to have a week off in one of the most picturesque countrysides in the world (Yves may be slightly biased, but still) and not have to think too hard about impressing everyone. 

“Is that… okay with you?” Yves asks.

“Yes,” Vincent says. “It’s just unexpected.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Oh. Well. I’m sorry if I misled you, or anything.”

“You didn’t.” This time, Vincent really does smile—a sly, quicksilver thing. “For the record, I am very excited to go to your cousin’s wedding.”

“Thank god,” Yves says. “That’s good. I was beginning to think I was holding you hostage.”

He leans back into his seat, suppressing another shiver. Something about the changing pressure in the airplane cabin is making his head start to ache. It’s probably the elevation. Perhaps he should try to sleep just so that he doesn’t have to sit for eight hours with a headache brewing.

He shuts his eyes and tries. It’s no use. He’s tired, and the cabin is quiet enough, but it’s too cold to get to sleep—it feels impossible to get comfortable like this.

So he picks up a novel he’d been meaning to get to—something suspenseful, to offset the monotony of the flight.

When the seatbelt sign flickers off, Vincent unclips his seatbelt so that he can retrieve his briefcase from one of the overhead compartments, and spends the next half hour paging through multiple documents and leaving notes in the margins at a dizzying pace. Yves slinks down lower into his seat, trying hard not to shiver. 

“Is it just me, or is it kind of cold in here?” 

Vincent frowns at him in a concerned way that seems to suggest that it really is just him. Then again, Vincent is unfazed by New York’s cold winters, so Yves isn’t sure he’s the best point of reference.

“Do you need my jacket?” he asks.

“No,” Yves says quickly. “It’s not that bad.”

“Okay,” Vincent says. “If you’re certain.”

He turns his attention back to the screen, and Yves resigns himself to reading—or, more accurately, trying and failing to read. It’s mercilessly cold, and his head hurts enough to make focusing on any one thing an uncomfortable task. He gets through another couple chapters, finds himself rereading the same passage over and over again, and—finally, defeated—dog-ears the page and slides the book into the pocket attached to the seat in front of him.

The next time the flight attendants come around, Vincent says something to one of them Yves can’t quite make out. Yves asks for orange juice—it’s not supposed to be symbolic, or anything, but on the off-chance that this headache ends up being a precursor to something more unpleasant, he thinks it might be wise.

The flight attendant pours him the orange juice he’s asked for—no ice (right now, something ice cold is the last thing he needs)—and sets it down on the tray table in front of him. Yves stares down at it, blinking. He hasn’t eaten all day, but strangely, he doesn’t have much of an appetite.

He doesn’t register the flight attendant from before—the one Vincent talked to—is back until he hears Vincent’s quiet “thanks” to his left.

Something brushes against his arm.

He looks up. It’s one of those travel blankets they sometimes carry, neatly folded, though this flight hadn’t given them out to everyone at the start. They must be reserved—given only upon request, maybe. 

“You said you were cold,” Vincent—who’s holding out the blanket for him—says, by way of explanation.

Yves blinks at him. He’s about to reassure Vincent, instinctively, that it’s not that cold—that he would’ve been fine without the blanket, that Vincent didn’t have to go out of his way to ask for one.

But his head hurts. He hasn’t been warm all flight. To say that the blanket is a relief would be a massive understatement.

“Thanks,” he says, taking it. “This is perfect. I won’t be cold with this.”

He ends up wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, pulling it tightly around him—like a cloak, or like the jacket that he might have brought with him if he’d had the foresight to anticipate feeling this cold on a commercial flight.

It’s nice. He’s still a little cold, with the blanket, but it’s enough to keep him from openly shivering.

He should really try to get some sleep, he thinks. It’s going to be evening in France when they land. A seat away from him, the window shutters are pulled up, but he can see, from the crevices around the window, that it’s light out.

“I’m going to try to nap,” he tells Vincent. “But wake me up if I need anything—elbow me if you have to. I’m not usually a heavy sleeper.”

“Okay,” Vincent says. “I’ll try not to wake you.”

“You can wake me whenever,” Yves says, muffling a yawn into his hand. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent smiles at him, the kind of smile that implies he thinks he’s working exactly as hard as he should be. “No promises.”

It’s not easy to get to sleep, despite his exhaustion. He lays there for a while, his eyes shut—it’s certainly warmer with the blanket, but for some reason, he feels strangely restless. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of being here, with his family, with Vincent—on the way to see one of the most important people in his life get married. Maybe it’s the cup of black coffee he’d downed this morning to be awake enough to help Mikhail navigate and, subsequently, awake enough to actually be useful at the airport.

In the end, he falls asleep to the static hum of the aircraft, to the sound of Vincent hammering away at his keyboard next to him, incessant and comforting.

—

Yves wakes to someone tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m up.”

“A ‘light sleeper,’ you said,” Vincent says. “We just landed.”

Yves says, “I’m wide awake.” The yawn that he hides behind one hand is apparently not subtle enough, because when Vincent looks away from him in favor of staring straight ahead, it looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

Vincent’s stowed away his laptop already—Yves hopes that’s a sign that he’s done with work for the duration of this trip, but more likely he just had to put it away for landing.

“How was the flight for you?” Yves says.

Vincent looks at him. “Uneventful,” he says, at last.

“Not enthralled by all the financial records you had to go through?”

“They were very enthralling. How was your nap?”

“Good,” Yves says, even though he doesn’t feel particularly rested. He’s just groggy, probably, and the headache is just as bad as it was, if not worse. He’s sure once he gets off the plane and gets some fresh air, he’ll feel much better. “I probably needed it.” His breath hitches, unexpectedly, he turns to the side, raising his arm to his face to shield the oncoming—

“hH-’IZscHH’iew!” 

The sneeze is loud, embarrassingly, and it scrapes unpleasantly against his throat, which feels… off.

“Bless you,” Vincent says, frowning. He looks more concerned than he has any right to be.

Yves flashes Vincent a distracted smile. “Thanks.”

Everything—from the moment they step off the plane—is exhaustingly hectic. 

The hotel in Provence is more than an hour away from the airport they’ve landed at. They have a bus to catch, which means that after they regroup with the others, it’s international customs, baggage claim, and then they’re headed, maneuvering multiple suitcases each, onto the bus. He sits next to Vincent, though on the aisle side, so that he can lean over and interject whenever Leon and Victoire say something that’s worth commenting on.

Other than that, he talks with Vincent, mostly—about Aimee, about how she’s been in his life for longer than he’s known how to write his name, back when his parents would take him back to France once or twice a year. (“She was practically an older sister to me,” he says, “except we never fought,” to which Vincent says, “You make it sound like not getting along is a requirement to be siblings,” to which Yves says, “It definitely is.”)

His parents flew into France yesterday, so they should be settled in already—they’ll catch up with them at the hotel tonight, if it’s not too late. He probably won’t see Aimee and Genevieve until tomorrow morning, at breakfast—and even then, that depends on how busy they are with the various wedding preparations Aimee’s been telling him about.

The roads nearing the hotel are uneven and winding. Halfway through the drive, Yves registers, faintly, that he isn’t really feeling any better from before. His head is still hurting from the flight, and when he swallows, he finds his throat feels perhaps the slightest bit sore.

He’s cold, too, in the sort of uncomfortable, persistent way that’s difficult to alleviate, even with extra layers or with a warm drink. He’s starting to suspect that maybe the airplane cabin hadn’t been the problem after all.

None of that is particularly visible to any of the others—that is, until he finds himself tensing up halfway through a sentence, burying his head into the crook of his elbow as his eyes squeeze shut—

“God, sorry, I— hh-! hHehh’iiZZSCHh’iiEW!”

“Bless you,” Vincent, Victoire, and Leon say to him, all at once.

“You’d better not be getting sick,” Leon says, turning to him, with the sort of tone that implies that he’s joking. “That would really be the worst timing.”

“I’m not,” Yves says, swallowing against the soreness in his throat. “I promise.” Or, perhaps more accurately—he can’t be.

It will be the perfect wedding, he thinks. Aimee has planned it out meticulously, and she’s one of the most thorough people he knows. The weather forecast says this week will be sunny and temperate. He’s here, in France. Tomorrow, he’ll be surrounded by his extended family, and in the afternoon he and Vincent will head off to the welcome party, and he’ll get to give Aimee the gifts he’s gotten for her and introduce Vincent to everyone formally. Everything will go as planned—the welcome party, the wedding rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, and on Saturday, the wedding and the vows.

It will be perfect, because it has to be. Yves will be present, and attentive, and he’ll give the speech he has prepared at Aimee’s wedding, and they’ll all remember this week fondly. Even considering the small, almost negligible chance that he’s coming down with something, there are more important things he has to worry about right now, which is to say: Yves is going to do this right.

He’s going to make sure of it. 

[ Part 2 ]

[canonicallyobserving911]

“I do need you.”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

New Buddie Fanfic in the "What do you want?" A Series of Fics and Ficlets

The 7th fic in the "What do you want?" Series in now available on AO3. "I do need you." - It’s late and after being on the road from Los Angeles to El Paso for more than 12 hours, Eddie and Buck are tired but they aren’t sleeping. Instead, they’re continuing to discuss things they’ve left unsaid.

"I do need you."

5.0K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Please note: the fics in this series were season 8 speculation before it began; however several things I included in the first 6 fics/ficlets, i.e. Buck's breakup with Tonsilitis along with Eddie going to visit Chris in El Paso, TX and taking Buck with him either haven't happened yet or they won't. Therefore, these are now solely based on my head FANONS and they include things I wish would happen in CANON. The CANON BT breakup is coming but I REFUSE TO WRITE ANYMORE FICS WITH T.K. 2.0 IN THEM. I’ve written two and a couple of others where he’s mentioned but I don't like the character; in fact I NEVER have and I'm too tired of Buck’s tragic repeated relationship with him to write about a character just to end up writing him out of the fic anyway. Also, as I've stated many times before, I write Buck and Eddie so they're getting ready to enter a relationship or when they're already in an established one.

___________

Here's a snippet of a conversation Buck and Eddie are having while they're in their hotel room.

___________

“Can we talk about something?”

“Of course.”

Buck nods and he takes a moment to determine the best way to say the things he wants to say.

Eddie doesn’t rush him; he just patiently waits for him to continue.

Once the words and sentences formulate inside of his mind, they begin to fall out of his mouth unbidden.  “Uh, ever since Friday morning… two times you’ve said you need me.  Once was when we were at the firehouse then you said it again a few minutes ago but um, I have to ask… do you uh, just need me to be Chris’ guardian or do you need me for you too?”

Eddie eyebrows go up so high on his forehead that they almost touch his hairline because he thought he made it crystal clear that he needs Buck in both of their lives.  Without breaking eye contact, he admits, “Buck, I need you for me and Chris and I want…”  He trails off because he was about to say he wants to spend the rest of his life with him.  Also, he was about to admit that he’s in love with him but he caught himself since he still has a lot of work to do to fix the things he broke earlier this year when he emotionally cheated with a doppelgänger and when he lied to the two people who mean the world to him, Buck and Chris.  He refuses to be in a place of mental despair when he tells the man of his dreams that he wants them to spend the next 50 or 60 years together.

He turns on the lamp, stands, walks over to Buck’s bed and stands in front of him.  After he places his hand on his shoulder with his thumb on his pulse point, he looks into those ocean blue eyes he loves so much and explains, “Buck, you’re mine and Chris’ family and I—I need you to be with me because I can’t do this alone.  You’ve been co-parenting Chris with me for the past 7 years and you’ve been part of his life longer than his mother.  You’re not a guest in our house and Buck…”  He pauses then says, “Ok… listen.”

What is Eddie going to say next? 👀

How will Buck respond? 🙃

___________

"What do you want?" - A Series of Ficlets

Currently 7 works completed; 46.4K Words: Rated; Teen and Up Audiences:  This is a series of “Fics and Ficlets” that I’ll be writing over the course of the next few weeks and my goal is to keep them under a certain number of words. I’m challenging myself to do it this way for multiple reasons but mainly because I want to see if I can write a full Buddie story by including smaller fics in a series in comparison to the multi-chapter fic I’m still in the process of writing titled, “I’m still in love with you but… I needed to learn how to love myself too!” I began writing it last year after season 6 was an epic disaster, however this time I started with my dislike for the way season 7 ended. Finally, I have several WIPs that I want to finish and I figured I can turn them all into one shot fics or ficlets to build the full story for Buck and Eddie.

Since these ficlets will be posted in order, it’s imperative to read them one after the other. Each part ends at a specific point with a cliffhanger and the next part will begin with the ending of the previous part. Therefore, parts 1 - 6 should be read prior to reading part 7 and the series will continue in that manner until it’s complete.

"You don't know math!" - 3.3K Words; Rated Teen and Up Audiences: Buck is forced to choose while Eddie might be presented with another option.

"Math is a universal language." - 5K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Eddie reconnects with an old acquaintance and they spend a lot of time together. However, now that Buck’s single, he finally tries to understand math is a universal language but when he sees Eddie talking to another guy, he wonders if it took him too long to figure it out.

“You know, it’s like that thing when you meet somebody and you just… click.” - 5.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: When Buck comes face to face with Eddie’s new friend; he hates it but since he’s only told Maddie about his breakup with Tommy, Eddie’s still under the impression he’s taken. Therefore, Eddie makes plans to spend even more time with his new acquaintance.

"I can't stop thinking about him." - 8.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Buck and Eddie are trying to move on but they can’t stop thinking about each other.

“How I hide my true feelings from others.” - 9.6K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Buck and Eddie return to therapy but they’re both not telling each other about recent events that happened. Will they finally have an open and honest conversation before it’s too late?

"We need to talk." - 11.4K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: After Eddie and Buck decide to take a weekend road trip to El Paso, TX to visit Chris, during the 12-hour drive, they talk about a lot of things they’ve left unsaid.

"I do need you." - It’s late and after being on the road from Los Angeles to El Paso for more than 12 hours, Eddie and Buck are tired but they aren’t sleeping. Instead, they’re continuing to discuss things they’ve left unsaid.

Now Available on AO3

[wehangout]

So, the amazing Calli @callivich came up with this beautiful idea for DVD commentary, fic style, and the amazing questions that go with it. As suggested, I'll be indulging myself while talking about:

Thicker Than Forget. Summary: He blinks at you. “What was your first name?” “Erato.” “Erato,” he repeats. “No need to roll the r.” “Like the muse?” You grin. “Poet, meet muse."

AU. Ian is a poet. Mickey is his recently-corporal muse. They eat an absurd amount of stupidly named ice cream, try to find beauty in things, and fall hopelessly in love.

This was fun! Let me know if you want commentary on any other fics!

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

So, I wrote this for the Shameless Big Bang in 2021. I couldn’t tell you how long it took me to write (Word is giving me conflicting info), but it was probably my easiest write to date. Word count sits at 30-ish thousand words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

It was initially inspired by a novel. I don’t remember which one, but it was either Lament or Ballad by Maggie Stiefvater. The only similarity between that one and mine is that a character falls in love with their muse. The plot itself is very different.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mickey. Because it’s almost always Mickey lmao. I did try from Ian’s, but this had to be from the muse’s POV and Mickey had to be the muse.

What was your favourite scene to write?

The smut 👀 if you’ve read it, I hope you understand why lmao

How did you come up with the title?

From the poem, Love is Thicker Than Forget! It fits so well with Ian being a poet and the overall theme of the story.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I went a little meta on fanfic, fandom, and shipping in this, which was so fun. I think only one person seemed to really notice and mention it, though, haha.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

I didn’t struggle to write it, but figuring out how to end it was tough. It took a long time for me to figure that out. When I originally came up with the idea it was for an original story, and did not have a happy ending.

Favourite line in the story?

I’m gonna go with lines, plural, because I have a couple

He kisses you and he kisses you and oh. Oh. This is what they were writing about. All the poets, every word of creativity they took from you … it’s this.

He closes his eyes and continues to sigh sonnets into your skin

Also, the last two lines of dialogue, and, I mean, “Fuck the connection” has to be right up there.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

The writing, actually. I’m not a poetic person, none of the poems in the fic are mine, but I’m pretty proud of the poetic nature of the writing.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

So, this is the fic that made me realise I needed to stop taking things so seriously lmao. @captainjowl can attest to the research I tend to do. In this case, every ice cream name was a legit flavour at the time, taken from a Baskin-Robbins website. The mural exists. The flowers and trees in the botanic gardens are flowers and trees found in that exact botanic garden. The hoodie! Taken straight from the Brooklyn Zoo website. The pasta they eat at the North Pond – I used Google Maps to make sure there was an Italian restaurant nearby and looked up ponds in Lincoln Park.

I've since tried to be more chill. Sometimes I fail.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I’d make it longer, if possible.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

It’s a nice idea, because I’d love to write something pretty again, but I have zero inspiration for it.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

Uh, if you’ve read this and Suncatcher you might notice that I, like Ian and Sandy, have a thing for The Doors.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

I don’t know if this is my most popular story, but I was definitely surprised by the intensity of the comments I received. It was one time when I knew I’d written something good, but the way it made other people feel definitely took me by surprise.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

I love that this was loved. I still go back and read it every now and then and just sigh.