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touyasdoll · 3 years

Note

Bakugo+🚬+smut

Frustrated

NSFW, Minors DNI

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: smoking, exhibitionism, public sex, biting, unprotected sex

The cool breeze of the evening air hit you as you stepped outside, letting the employee entrance door of the agency swing shut behind you. You sucked in a breath of fresh air, wrinkling your nose at the smell of smoke permeating your nostrils.

Glancing over, you saw your patrol partner inhaling the cigarette that he held between his lips. He was hunched over, sitting on a bench with his elbows resting on top of his knees, looking about as approachable as he usually did.

"Didn't realize you were a smoker," you took a step closer, dipping a toe into the water to gage his mood, "Wouldn't have pegged you for the type."

He spared a glance in return, staring back down at the ground as he took another drag, "Something to take the edge off." He paused before scooting over on the bench and nodding to the seat beside him, "Sit, if you want."

"Oh, thanks," you offered a small smile, which went unnoticed as you smoothed your skirt and sat down beside him, "Would you mind if I bummed one off ya?"

He scoffed, shaking his head with a smirk, "And here I thought that you were judging me, Princess," he reached into his pocket, flicking his wrist to flip open the pack in your direction.

"You say that like I have room to judge," you scoffed back, picking a cigarette out and tucking it between your teeth as you held your hand out for a light.

The corners of his lips upturned in an amused grin as he held a single finger up and leaned in. You followed his lead, bringing your face closer to his as he pressed the pad of his finger to the end of the cigarette. You held his ruby red gaze as you hollowed your cheeks, breathing life into the rolled tobacco when his finger sparked against it.

It was hard to tell if it was the rush of nicotine, that you were so unaccustomed to, or the proximity of your face to his that had your head spinning. You broke first, eyes darting away as you leaned back, exhaling the smoke you'd held in your lungs.

He kept his eyes trained on you, watching the way your lips pursed together as the puff left them, letting his eyes wander lower, casting them over your torso, along the length of your short skirt, which fanned out over just enough of your thighs to be considered decent.

He whipped his head away, hoping to make the motion look casual as you turned your attention back to him, "What're you still doing here so late?"

"Put off a little too much paperwork last week, so I had to play catch up," he settled his elbows back on his knees. "I could ask you the same thing, you're hardly ever here past quittin' time."

You shrugged, exhaling decisively as you leaned back on your hand, crossing one leg over your knee, feeling your skirt fall a little higher on your thigh. He seemed to take notice, his eyes following the fabric and yours following his stare as you smiled to no one but yourself.

"Been feeling a little frustrated lately. A little, pent up, you know?" You tilted your head slightly to the side, exposing your neck as you arched your back, the motion exaggerating the way your chest heaved as you took another slow drag. “Trying to put some of that energy into work.”

He stole a glance at your chest, clearing his throat as he caught himself, trying to pass it off as a cough, a symptom of the white stick burning between his fingers, but you knew better. He rubbed his thigh, inhaling another puff as he sat up straighter.

"I getcha," he nodded, speaking as he held the smoke in his lungs, "What's got you fucked up?"

"If I'm being honest?" You tilted your head in thought, staring straight ahead, "I could really use a good fuck."

You had to focus to keep your poker face on as you watched his reaction from the corner of your eye. His eyebrows raised, head whipping towards you, trying to confirm if his ears had deceived him.

"You really down that bad? I find that hard to believe,” he chuckled, flicking away the stub of his worn cigarette. “Lookin’ the way you do, you could walk into any bar you wanted and find someone to take you home.”

“Maybe I could,” you ran a hand up your thigh, playing with the hem of you skirt, tugging it up just a bit higher, nearly enough for him to have a peek at what was beneath it. “But there’s this guy I’ve been trying to get at for a while now. Little dense though. Real shame he can’t see how hard I’ve been trying to fuck him.”

“Huh,” his eyes alight, moving from your bared thigh to meet your gaze, a playful smirk on his lips. “Guy sounds like a real asshole. What do you see in him?”

“Eh, he has his moments,” You smiled, tilting your head and turning your torso in his direction, “He is a bit of an asshole. Helps that he’s hot.”

“Well at least this dumb bastard’s got that goin’ for him.” He kicked a leg over the bench, straddling it as he faced you and smirked, “I’d be kicking myself if I were him.”

“Oh, would you?” You mirrored his actions, pressing your skirt against the bench as you kicked your leg over it, “what else might you do if you were him?”

“Well now, that really depends on you,” he shifts forward, weight resting on his hands, sitting just between your spread thighs, “what are you into, baby?”

“How ‘bout I show you? Mind holdin’ this for me?” You smile, keeping your eyes on him as you pull the cigarette from your mouth, blowing the smoke off to the side. Carefully, you place it between his lips, resting your hands on his shoulders as you stand and straddle him.

“Not at all,” it wiggles between his lips as he cups your ass, bringing your hips against his as he rocks forward, grinding his erection against your barely clothed pussy.

You moan, a soft, breathy noise into his ear as you catch the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging to tilt his head to the side. He echoes the noise as you kiss and suck at the skin of his neck.

“You sure you wanna do this here?” He pants, slipping a hand between your thighs and pressing two fingers against the soaked fabric.

“Yes,” you breathe, wrapping an arm around his neck as you trap the cigarette in his mouth between two fingers.

He sucks in, eyes locked with yours as you pull it from his lips and flick it away. His hand comes behind your head to pull you in, your mouth hovering just in front of his as he breathes the smoke out, brushing your lips together. You inhale it, hungry for anything he’s willing to give you, mewling as two fingers slip past your panties, sinking into your core slowly.

“This all for me?” He smirks, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your lip, before kissing along your jaw as both of your arms wrap around him, your hips shifting to meet the gentle thrust of his fingers.

“Yes, Sir,” you moan, a little too loudly as his thumb circles your clit, and bury your face in his shoulder, “oh, fuck.”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he picks up the pace, leaning back to watch your expressions. Your mouth falling open, your eyes rolling back as you groan. He smirks, eyes falling over the rest of your body, his cock twitches as the sight of you writhing on top of him. “Least I can do is give you that after makin’ you wait so goddamn long.”

“Fuck me,” it’s a whisper, a plea against his lips as you press your forehead to his.

He captures your lips in the first proper kiss that you share and it’s everything that he is; rough, fiery, and passionate. His lips vibrate against yours as he groans in anticipation, lifting the both of you off the bench enough to wriggle his pants down, his aching cock springing free.

You put your weight on your feet as he lines himself up with your entrance, panting impatiently in his ear while two fingers hook into your panties, pulling them aside. Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you let him guide your hips back on top of his, impaling yourself onto his thick cock.

He grunts, squeezing your ass with one hand as you roll your hips, biting your lip to suppress the strangled cry of pleasure in your throat. Another hand travels up your shirt, exploring your chest and pulling the front of your top up. He pulls the cup of your bra down, pinching your nipple between his fingers as his face settled between the valley of your breasts, littering them with kisses and kitten licks.

“Katsuki,” your head rolls back as you thrust your hips in tandem with him, moaning at the delirious amount of bliss you’ve found yourself drowning in.

Every part of you feels like it’s on fire. All thanks to the thrill of the moment, the heat of his hands on your body. The months of built-up sexual tension finally giving way to something even better than you’d fantasized.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he’s breathless, kissing a trail between your breasts, beneath your chin, all the way to your lips as his hands seized your hips, “gonna look so pretty when you cream all over this cock. You’re close aren’t you, baby?”

He smirked as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, kissing you deeply when he relinquished it. His hand rested on your inner thigh, thumbing your clit. Your mouth dropped open, ushering moan and moan against the triumphant grin that he wore.

“Gonna cum, oh shit, I’m gonna cum,” you tucked yourself into the crook of his shoulder, biting down as you let go. Your walls spasmed around him, clenching tight enough to bid him to follow you off the cliff. He growled, his eyes falling shut as his feral noises met your breathless whines.

You kept your arms around him, one hand holding the back of his neck as you laid there against him, his arms encircling your waist. The pair of you sat there for a suspended moment, coming down from your highs together as your fingers continued exploring each other’s bodies. Gentle, soothing motions against overly sensitive skin in the afterglow of the act.

“How ya feelin’, sweetheart? Still frustrated?” You felt his lips curl into a proud smile as he kissed your cheek, making his way to your lips.

“Mm,” you kissed him slowly, resting your forehead against his as you both pulled away. “I might need another round, if you’re up for it.”

“You kiddin’ me?” He chuckled deviously, “Better prepare yourself, baby. I’m gonna ruin you if you let me take you home.” His hands trailed over your sides, dragging down your thighs as he squeezed, pulling a quiet groan from your lips as you smiled back.

“I think I can handle you,” you ran a hand down his chest, all the way down, letting your fingers ghost along his already semi-hard-again member, as you whispered with a smirk against his lips, “Dynamight.”

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 3 years

Text

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 1

Author’s Note: Had this idea living in my head rent free so hopefully I don’t butcher it.

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language

Part 1 , Part 2

“So, where are we going again?” Bucky asked Sam, confusion written on his face as he leaned back in the front passenger seat of the car.

“You’ll find out. We’ll be there soon.” Sam answered, his eyes glued to the road and hands gripping the wheel.

“But we’ve been driving in the middle of nowhere for an hour now.” Bucky fussed while staring at the never ending green grass that passed by, clearly irritated with Sam’s lack of details.

“I too would like to know where we are going.” Zemo spoke up only to add to Sam’s annoyance.

“YOU don’t get to ask questions.” Sam glared at Zemo through the rear view mirror before staring back at the road. He was starting to get fed up with their questions and lack of patience.

The three men had been driving with their windows down for what felt like hours through the Scottish countryside, watching the green highlands pass by. Though they admired the beauty of the landscape, they were extremely anxious to stretch their legs and get to their unknown destination. Not to mention, they were starting to get a little hungry as well.

“Are we there yet?” Bucky broke the silence after some time.

“We get there when we get there.” Sam snapped, his knuckles turning white from gripping the wheel a bit too hard. He was really looking forward to getting out of the car and away from those two.

After a short while they neared a small seaside village. The place was not that busy, save for the few locals and fishermen going about the cloudy day.

Sam drove on a little further before finally reaching a quaint stone cottage that sat on a hill at the edge of town, overlooking the ocean. He pulled up next to the 60s convertible cream colored Volkswagen Beetle that had a surfboard tied on the roof, parked next to the cottage. Sam took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out, stretching his legs as the others followed suit.

Sam smiled to himself as he walked up the path leading to the front door and glanced upon the flower garden and the decorations out front. He knew for sure this was your place. The other two quietly followed behind while looking around the residence, from the neatly kept garden and the vines that crawled along the house, to the fishing equipment hung up on the side, down to the handmade birdhouses and the wind chimes and sun-catchers that clinked melodically against the ocean breeze, including the collection of garden gnomes. The place reminded the men something straight out of Jane Austen’s novels, not that they’d like to admit they knew such a thing.

Sam stopped at the front door before turning to the others with a pointed finger. “Now whatever you do, don’t stare.”

“Wait what?” Bucky scrunched his nose.

“Just don’t.”

Sam paused for a moment, thinking of how to explain this situation to you before tapping on the wooden door. No answer. Sam could feel Bucky glaring at the back of his head, ready to scold him about how this was a big waste of time. So he knocked again, this time calling out if any one was home.

Before Bucky could open his mouth there was rustling coming from inside and the sound of someone knocking into furniture before a faint “ow” and “fuck” of a woman’s voice made Bucky and Zemo glance questioningly at each other. Where the hell did Sam lead them to?

The locks on the door were fumbled with before opening up to reveal your head poking out from behind.

“Sam?” You breathed out. You were slightly out of breath and your hair was disheveled with strands falling out of your bun at the front from under your silk scarf. The sleeves of your button up blouse were rolled up at your elbows, revealing your dirt covered arms. You were working on your vegetable garden in the back before you were interrupted by your unexpected visitors.

Bucky stood behind Sam and couldn’t help but widen his eyes when he saw you. He only met you a few times during the threat of Thanos and before, but the interactions he had with you were very brief. All he knew was that you were a good friend of the Avengers, especially Thor, Clint, Nat, Wanda, Tony and Steve and now apparently Sam. But after Thanos was defeated you disappeared and nothing was heard of you since.

Zemo glanced out from behind Bucky and tried to remain hidden behind the super soldier once he recognized your face. You weren’t exactly an Avenger and you weren’t on Earth when he tore the Avengers apart, you were helping Thor at the time and little to everyone’s knowledge, you were also defending your planet against an inside threat. But you had heard of him through your friends, and though you hadn’t met him, Zemo knew you would strangle him once you spotted him.

“Hey y/n.” Sam smiled at you, calling you by your alias name. He knew who you were through Steve, but even then, he didn’t know everything about you and about the recent events that took place in your home planet that still devastated you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked with a mixture of surprise and annoyance, wiping your hands on your apron. There was a reason you chose to live all the way out here, and though you gave Sam your new address, you didn’t expect him to bring company.

“I came to see how you were doing?”

“Bullshit.” You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you wanted to check up on me you wouldn’t have brought someone.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak but decided against it, refused to meet your stern eyes and looking down at the ground instead with his hands in his pockets. He often forgot how well you were able to read people, almost as if you were telepathic. Little to his knowing, you were in fact a telepath but decided against telling him. You’ve known people who became uncomfortable when finding that detail about you and noticed how they tried to avoid you, constantly guarding their thoughts when around. If only they knew you never bothered to do such a thing because you respected their privacy and because you’ve seen things in people’s heads you wished to forget. You’ve only ever used your telepathy when it was absolutely necessary. Straightening up, you finally took a better look at the other man behind him and instantly recognized him as Bucky.

“Barnes?”

“Hi y/n.” Bucky smiled shyly at you as he looked into your eyes. And that’s when he noticed for the first time that your eyes were different from when he last saw you. Your irises were now a shade of purples and blues with flecks of gold that spread out, a reflection of the stars and the universe. So that’s what Sam meant when he said to not stare. But could you have just been wearing contacts? Bucky’s stare was cut short as Sam noticed, glaring at him and clearing his throat before elbowing him in the stomach.

Suddenly, there came the sound of a little girls squeals coming from inside your home, startling the men except for Sam. And before they knew it, a small girl in overalls who looked to be of 6 years of age sprinted through your legs and out the door. “Uncle Sam!”

“Oof! Athena wait!” You gasped against the impact as you tried to reach for her.

“Hey hey little Athena!” Sam smiled as he picked the excited girl up into his arms before setting her on his hip. “How’s my favorite little warrior?”

“I’m helping Mommy with the garden! See!” She squealed in delight before showing off her dirty hands.

“I can see that.” Sam chuckled. “Looks like you’ve been working hard.”

“God, I’m so sorry Sam. She’s covered in dirt.” You tried to apologize with an embarrassed face.

“Hey no worries.” Sam smiled at you. “Some dirt is not gonna kill me.”

“Mommy who’s this?” Athena questioned as she looked at the man next to Sam.

You looked at Bucky and gave him a look that questioned what name he would prefer, to which he nodded and mouthed Bucky to you.

“That’s Bucky sweetie.”

“Hi Bucky! I’m Athena!” She stuck her tiny hand out to for him to shake, a big grin plastered on her face from meeting new people.

“It’s very nice to meet you Athena.” Bucky smiled as he gently shook her hand, making her giggle.

The scene made you smile to yourself as you pushed a strand of your hair behind your ears. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that Sam and Bucky decided to pay a visit.

“Mommy who’s the man in the back?”

The man in the back? You looked to Sam and James with a raised brow before craning your neck to see who the third guest could be, only to tense up and clutch the door frame, forcing yourself to not go over there right now and throw him off a cliff.

“What the hell is he doing here?” You glared daggers at Zemo as he watched you with caution, before you turned to Sam.

“I can explain.” Sam tightened his jaw as he saw your expression.

“Athena, sweetie.” You turned to your daughter with a gentle smile. “I want you to go up to your room and clean up okay?”

“Okay mommy.” Athena looked back at you with a worried look as Sam set her down.

You caressed her head as she walked in, watching her go up the stairs and waiting for the sound of her bedroom door to close and her shower to turn on before shutting the front door behind you.

“Are you out of your goddamn minds?” You glared at the two, trying to not yell, your fists balling up in anger. “What in the three hells is going on?”

“Look y/n. He might be of some use.” Sam tried to explain.

“So you broke him out of prison?!”

“Well technically he got himself out.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. He was starting to think that this wasn’t such a good idea and felt guilty for coming here.

“Oh? So what? He magically decides to join your little boy band? The Wakandans are after his ass in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Look I get it. Working with Zemo sounds like a terrible idea and you have every right to be upset. We just need a place to lay low for now. Just...hear us out.” Sam responded with a pleading look.

You stood there with a hand on your hip, squeezing your eyes shut while you pinched the bridge of your nose, not even caring that you still had dirt on your hands.

“Please y/n.” Bucky spoke up, making you look up at him. “Sam wouldn’t come here if he didn’t know what he was doing.”

You looked between the two, rubbing your chin in contemplation as you thought everything over. Bucky was right. Sam would never try to purposely put you in harm’s way.

“Fine.” You breathed out. “You can stay for the night. But you are going to tell me everything. Every last detail.”

“I promise.” Sam looked to you as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Well come on then. Get in.” You nodded your head towards the door as you opened it, letting Bucky and Sam in before putting yourself in front of Zemo and blocking him with a threatening look while speaking in a cold tone. “I swear to the gods, if you so much as try anything, I will bury you alive in my backyard and use you as fertilizer to grow fungi.”

“Y/n what the fuck.” You heard Sam utter from inside.

Zemo gave you a bewildered look and decided to keep quiet as you stepped aside to let him in, watching him closely as he went in. You stuck your head outside again, looking around for any bystanders and making sure the men were preoccupied before muttering something in Ancient Greek, waving your hand around and moving your fingers in specific gestures as a clear glass like film covered the area around your home for protection. You did another once over before going back in and closing the front door, readying yourself for the conversation you would have with Sam and Bucky.

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amedetoiles · 4 years

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@suibian-chenqing ME TOOOO!!! It is my ultimate endgame in any version of cql/mdzs. Just Lotus Pier in some way, shape, or form being the home where everyone returns to.

So please consider a universe where everyone makes better choices, has healthier conflict resolution skills à la conversations over soup, and lives happily ever after. Hear me out:

We all know that the chaotic Jiang disciples are the unsung heroes of the story, always merrily dragging their grumpy grape sect leader from danger and picking up after his dramatically discarded capes across various parts of the country.

What if after that staged fight while Jiang Cheng angrily copes with brozilla wedding planning (they hear him crying yelling multiple times at all the notebooks full of wedding ideas Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have jotted down over the years), they decide that this is just not conducive to the happiness of their two favorite Young Masters?

Or equally important, the continuation of their beloved tradition of monthly Lotus Pier lake parties. A Jiang pool party without their resident chaos king and undisputed champion for the highest caliber splash swan dives? This Will Not Stand!

Obviously it is their Duty and their Right as the protectors and purveyors of Jiang culture for a few of them to secretly stow away while Jiang Cheng is having an epic meltdown over fabric.

“800 thread count? Are you out of your goddamn minds? My only sister, and you expect us to throw her a wedding with disgraceful eight hundred thread count fabric?! Do we Jiangs look like barbarians to you?!”

The Jiang disciples go to Yiling, rush up the Burial Mounds, and shout very convincingly, “Da-shixiong! Da-shixiong! Zongzhu, he – he –”

Wei Wuxian, war-torn, living with ten thousand ghosts, and constantly on edge, panics immediately, jumps to the absolute worst conclusion, and doesn’t even clarify before he rushes down the mountain because oh god, oh god, no, not again, didn’t he leave so his siblings would be safe, didn’t he promise to keep Jiang Cheng safe?????

Wen Qing warily agrees to come along because they clearly now have this well-established ongoing unspoken agreement to constantly save each other’s little brothers.

If the Jiang disciples have caught Jiang Cheng brooding over a pretty redwood comb wrapped in a silk handkerchief more than once, then they don’t say anything. Just share silent looks of glee when no one is watching.

By the time they reach Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian has worked himself up into such a state of frenzy that he bursts through the doors of Lotus Pier like a black thundercloud of overprotective fury and worry, screaming, “JIANG CHENG! JIANG CHENG!”

.... Jiang Cheng is sitting on the floor of the Sword Hall, surrounded by a mountain of square fabric samples, with bits of thread stuck in his hair, totally gobsmacked at the sight of his windswept big brother.

Wei Wuxian, still panicked, falls to the floor in front of him, grabs Jiang Cheng by the arms before he can even react, and frantically checks him over. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened – I thought –”

Jiang Cheng stares at him. Wei Wuxian blinks. The Jiang disciples have all conveniently disappeared.

Behind them, Wen Qing heaves a big sigh, slow and long through pursed lips. She bows respectfully, says “I will be outside,” and gets the fuck out of there.

There is a tense silence. Wei Wuxian realizes he’s been tricked, but he is so overcome with relief after all that soul-crushing fear that he doesn’t even get mad, just sags forward with his face in Jiang Cheng’s chest as the adrenaline leaves him all at once. He pretends he’s not shaking.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he wants to shove Wei Wuxian away, hug him back, or wrap him in as many blankets as he can possibly find until a-jie comes home. He does none of those, just demands, half-strangled, half-something-like-worry, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“They said – I thought you were in trouble or – or –”

[long pause] “You – came all the way here shouting like a possessed lunatic because you thought I was in trouble?”

Wei Wuxian hunches a little defensively and starts to move away. “Of course I did.” He makes sure to add, with emphasis, “Idiot.”

It doesn’t matter if Jiang Cheng can’t make up his mind because apparently his hands can, and they grip both of Wei Wuxian’s elbows to keep his brother from pulling away. They stare at one another.

”You said you didn’t want anything to do with the Jiang sect.”

Wei Wuxian looks away, grumbling. “How else was I supposed to keep you and shijie safe? Besides, you’re the one who stabbed me.” He is very pouty about this.

Jiang Cheng, immediately incensed and indignant, shouts, “You broke my arm! I had to be in a cast for a whole month!”

An almost smile flashes over Wei Wuxian’s face. “Hey, it was only your left arm. You were still able to write.”

Jiang Cheng glares at him and shoves his shoulder. Wei Wuxian instinctively shoves him back. They stare. Wei Wuxian scrubs his face tiredly with his hands. Jiang Cheng has to push away the urge to motherhen with blankets again.

He says, “I never asked you to protect me.”

Wei Wuxian gives him a look. “I don’t need to be asked.”

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “I don’t want you to protect me, idiot.”

Wei Wuxian heaves a very resigned sigh. “Then what do you want?”

Several answers come up, all too serious and too revealing without the support of a-jie’s soup and copious amount of alcohol. So Jiang Cheng just throws a handful of fabric samples at Wei Wuxian’s face. “Help me pick through these until a-jie comes home. You should have fucking heard Jin Zixuan’s suggestions last week. If we let the peacock plan a-jie’s wedding, it’s going to be an absolute disaster.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile this time is real and genuine and lasts the entire afternoon of bickering over fabric squares until Jiang Yanli rushes into the pavilion with many Jiang disciples in tow and hugs both her brothers for the first time in months. They manage to not horribly cry all over each other.

Jiang Yanli insists Wen Qing has dinner with them. There’s plenty of soup after all. Jiang Cheng is awkwardly stiff and doesn’t look Wen Qing in the eye the entire time, and Wei Wuxian pokes him repeatedly with silent what the hell is wrong with you.

They talk about growing turnips, purifying rice wine, that the scariest thing about Wen Ning is his ability to create a disturbingly large variety of dishes from turnips, and how Wei Wuxian has essentially adopted baby A-Yuan as his own.

Later, Jiang Yanli tells Wen Qing, with a smile, her eyes alight like a flame, that she will take care of it. Wen Qing has no idea what this means. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian share a look as only little brothers with intimate knowledge of their big sister’s stubbornness could and wisely choose to remain silent.

Jiang Yanli enlists the help of both Jin Zixuan and Madam Jin and somehow does indeed take care of it.

Many back door conversations occur between Jiang, Jin, Lan, and Nie sects. Jin Zixuan is the sole Jin representative. Nie Mingjue is initially leery but comes at the behest of Huaisang and Xichen.

At some point, Wen Ning tells Wei Wuxian that if they are going to do this, then it’s best if they have no more secrets. Wei Wuxian glares and tries to pretend that he has no idea what he is talking about, but neither Jiang Yanli nor Jiang Cheng allow Wei Wuxian to run away this time.

There is an emotional golden core reveal, followed by an equally emotional I didn’t go back for their bodies, with lots of shouting, shoving, crying, and clinging. In the aftermath, the Jiang siblings form an even stronger co-dependent unit around each other.

Jiang Yanli coordinates with Lan Xichen (and a begrudgingly cooperative Jiang Cheng) to bring Lan Wangji to Lotus Pier to help Wei Wuxian control his powers. Wangxian are desperately cute, and Jiang Cheng makes pointed gagging sounds whenever he’s around them that leads to several incidents of lake shoving, an excitable gaggle of Jiang disciples swan diving into the water after them, and a very, very confused Lan.

In the end, Wei Wuxian refuses to hand over the Stygian Tiger Seal to any of the sects, but he does agree to destroy it if Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and the remaining Wens are granted clemency and allowed to live freely without persecution. Jiang, Lan, and Nie sects agree.

Jin Guangshan tries to make an uproar, but in a surprising turn of events, Jin Guangyao (grateful for Jiang Yanli’s non-judgmental kindness over the past year) reveals all of his father’s treacherous secrets, including ordering the slaughter of Wen civilians, pardoning and releasing Xue Yang, and purposefully fueling the mob against Wei Wuxian to acquire the seal for himself. Jin Guangshan is shamed, sentenced, and dies imprisoned some months later.

Jin Zixuan formally recognizes his newly renamed brother Jin Ziyao.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian decide that their sister is even scarier than they had believed.

The Wens leave the Burial Mounds and build a small village together in Yiling where they branch into farming non-turnip crops much to the delight of Wei Wuxian. Jiang disciples are dispatched to help with the construction of several buildings, including one extremely beautiful apothecary. Jiang Cheng is seen in Yiling fairly regularly.

Jin Zixun, the most vocal opponent against the pardons for Wei Wuxian and the Wens, tragically falls off a cliff one day. Sect Leader Yao tries to pin it on Wei Wuxian, but Jiang Cheng shuts him down with scathing ferocity.

Someone also puts a Silencing Spell on Sect Leader Yao and keeps it going. Every Lan swears it was not them and thus cannot remove the spell. It lasts for two glorious months. Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji get along disturbingly well from that point on.

Wei Wuxian is there when Jiang Yanli gets married in a magnificent splendor of red and gold. He is there to see Jin Ling born, to watch Jiang Cheng tie a purple bell to their nephew’s robes, and to gift little A-Ling a bracelet on his first month birthday. He is there to watch Jiang Cheng rebuild their sect with unending grit, respect, and loyalty. He is there to see Jin Ling and A-Yuan grow up underneath a sky he helped clear, loved and adored by all the different parts of their family. And some years after he and Lan Wangji are happily married, Wei Wuxian is there when his little brother dons red robes and bows to the heavens, to the earth, and to a woman with a redwood comb in her hair whose life became entwined with theirs so very long ago.

#the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #yunmeng sibs #陈情令 #[ ask eve ]#suibian-chenqing #!mine #!meta #!fic #ok i lied asks are still being a shit on tumblr so i made a new post sorry for my ocdness #anyway this really got away from me lmfao but i effectively entertained myself very thoroughly #so i hope you enjoy this too #i love my jiangs #JIANGS ALWAYS AND FOREVER #long post

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lunarastrobabe · 3 years

Text

Sam Drake x F!Reader- Thief

(Mainly Fluff. No warnings.)

“Look Sam, just admit it, we’re lost.” You whined, folding the map back up and stuffing it into your fanny pack that was slung across your chest. The snow crunching under your combat boots as you walked, the icy wind nipping at your skin like sharp needles. The sun was out, shining across the snow making it sparkle like glitter.

You were in Sweden chasing some leads on lost Viking Treasure, but this time with just you and Sam. Nate had a baby on the way, even though he wished he could come, he needed to look after Elena. You had both been left with an empty, unsatisfied feeling after finding Avery’s treasure few months before, but with Sam, it hit him hard the most. But being here with him, now, was all you ever wanted. You two were just friends, but he was your best friend, you could always count on him whenever you were in trouble or whenever you needed support, he was always there. You were in love with him, and you had been for a long time, all you wanted to do was tell him but never found the right time. You were hoping he already knew.

“We are not lost, you just don’t know how to read a map.” He said in a snarky tone, walking up beside you and unzipping your fanny pack and pulled out the map again so he could take a closer look at it.

“You’re an ass. You know I’m smarter than you.” You elbowed him in the rib. He jerked a little clutching his side with his hand.

“Rude.” A light laugh left his lips, his breath showing from the cold, turning his head and smiling at you. “Now, lets see where we are.” He carefully scanned the map, you just watched him with a smile on your face, taking in every little detail and aspect of his skin, his hair blowing in the breeze. His hazel eyes had a glow from the suns rays, you could look into them forever, like tiny golden pools. Being in Sweden with Sam reminded you of being in Scotland with him and Nate, with Nadine’s army blowing shit up every five seconds.

“Right, we are here. We need to get to that wooden structure over there.” His fingers pointed to the area on the map then to a building in the distance, luckily it was still standing but who knows, everything you’ve stepped foot on in the past has either exploded or fallen apart. You weren’t listening to a word he said, too busy falling even more in love with him than he already knew. He felt your eyes on him, folding the map and putting it into his sherpa jacket pocket.

“Like what you see, hm?” He said in a seductive, husky tone purposely in your ear then pushed your shoulder gently to get your attention back to the mission. Your cheeks felt a burning sensation, either from the cold or from embarrassment for staring for so long. You snapped yourself out of it and scoffed, “You wish Samuel,” then rolling your eyes and continued walking along the path along the cliff, staying as far away from the edge as possible.

“Alright, so what exactly are we looking for?” You asked, putting your hands in your pockets to keep warm, you were freezing, and you were sure he was too, even if he wouldn’t admit it. You looked at the ground and at every step you took, kicking snow off your boots as you went along, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Well, it’s a very, very old viking helmet, supposedly encrusted with the finest jewels and diamonds.” A smile was brought to his face, he loved to talk about hidden treasures and artefacts, especially talking to you about it in particular. He was thankful that you’d listen to him, for hours even, sometimes he would come over to your place at four in the morning just to talk about lost cities.

“And how much is it worth? Um, do you think?” You stopped in your tracks to look at him, the excitement was showing in him and he couldn’t contain himself.

“Not as much as Avery’s treasure but, a great amount,” He shrugged. “I’m just glad I’m not searching for it alone.” Your chest tightened slightly at his words, you swore you could feel the love rising inside of you.

“Me too.” Was all you could say, you just so badly wanted to tell him you loved him, that you loved every scar, every wound, every scratch and mark that covered his body and that you still thought he was perfect.

“We should start climbing now.” You said looking up at the tall black cliff that stood before you and rubbed your hands together to keep them warm.

“Need a boost m’lady?” He smirked, he always liked to give you the first boost, just to get a good look at your ass every chance he got.

“Thank you, loverboy.” You gave him a flirtatious wink as he crouched down a little in front of you holding out both his hands on his knee. Holding onto his shoulders you stood in his hands and he pushed you upside the cliff, grabbing onto the first hand hold you saw incase you fell. Falling to your death into a black abyss was not on your agenda right now. Sam watched you in awe at your skills and your strength, memories of yours and his friendship from the Avery job was circling his mind, wishing he had made a move before, wishing he had kissed you back in Italy when you were in that skin tight, red dress that brought out your eyes. That night he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, almost forgetting to steal the cross from the auction. And the time you also got shot while he tried to cover you, he still blames himself for getting you hurt but you were a strong girl, and you still are and he knew that. Not realising you were at the top of the cliff already while he was drowning in his own thoughts about you, you called down to him, catching his attention.

“Sam? Are you coming or are you going to just stand there?” You shouted down to him, he snapped from his thoughts and laughed awkwardly.

“Yes ma’am.” Talking to himself, he ran his fingers through his hair and jumped up, climbing the cliff faster than you could but he was more trained than you at scaling high places and considering he was taller. He grunted, pulling himself up on the ledge and standing up, brushing the snow off his jeans. You felt your hands get colder, he noticed you shivering, since you were high up the wind was a little stronger and a lot more colder. Fuck, you hated winter when you weren’t inside your home, drinking hot cocoa, reading Sam and Nate’s mom’s journal by the fireplace, wondering how amazing of a mother she was to them.

“Hey, you’re cold. C’mere.” He quickly wrapped his hands around yours before you could say anything, he brought your hands to his lips, giving them small warm kisses, his eyes looking into yours. His surprisingly warm hands making you feel safe and secure. All you could do was smile, “Thanks Sam.” You whispered, he pulled you a little closer to him by the hands, holding them to his chest.

“Anytime darlin’,” His smile was your favourite thing about him. He removed his hands from yours and wrapped them around you holding you tight against him to keep the warmth in before resuming your quest. His chin settled on the top of your head, your ear was pressed to his chest and you could hear his heart pounding a million miles an hour. His cologne was strong, but he wasn’t wearing a lot.

“[Y/N]?“ He felt like his chest was going to explode at what he was about to say. He was nervous, but it was a good feeling. He was sure of it. He wasn’t usually nervous around women, he was actually very confident in flirting and making moves on the girls he’d come across in bars, or on the job. He knew this was something real, something different with you.

“Hm?” You lifted your face away from his chest and looked up at him.

“I have to tell you something.” He pulled back from the hug, taking a seat down on the snow away from the edge of the cliff you had climbed up from.

“Okay, is everything alright?” Your voice was full of worry, going over and sitting beside him, stretching your legs out in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine, it’s just-,” He tied up the laces tighter on his boots, accidentally kicking snow at you. Brushing it away you watched him, waiting for his explanation.

“Sam, spit it out, we got a lot of ground to cover. You can tell me anything.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, gently touching his cheek with your thumb.

He turned to face you. Taking a deep breath, hoping you wouldn’t run away or slap him for what he was about to say.

“I love you.” He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Sam-, I-, wha-, really?” You were surprised, but not that surprised, he would always find a way to make you notice him, sometimes he’d find a way to ‘accidentally’ touch your hands or your body or compliment you at any given time.

He chuckled, “Yeah, really.” He felt proud, he felt good about himself that he was finally able to tell you, especially in a beautiful country such as Sweden and sitting in the snow looking at the view, with a pink and blue sunrise shining over the mountains.

You leapt over and pushed his back to the ground, straddling his body, his hands immediately attaching to your waist. Leaning down you whispered in his ear, he shivered at the feeling more than the cold ever could.

“I love you too.” He moved his hand to your face bringing you to look at him, pushing your hair out of his face and gripping your neck gently, finally kissing you like he had been begging to do. Your tongues making contact with each other, the nicotine and breath minty taste collided with your tastebuds. Kissing for what felt like hours but was only a few minutes, he pulled back just to gaze into your eyes once again, his hazel eyes glowing with happiness.

“Goddamn I’m a lucky man.” He sighed happily, running his fingers through your hair.

“What can I say? A thief stole my heart.” Both laughing you went in for another passionate kiss.

#sam drake #samuel drake #sam drake x reader #uncharted 4 #uncharted lost legacy #the lost legacy #a thiefs end #uncharted 4 a thiefs end #uncharted

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itsnsfwalways · 4 years

Text

Canyon Moon

FIC MASTERLIST

warnings for ch 3: mentions of drug use (weed), swearing, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), a hint of degradation if you squint

chapter 3: you’re so golden

The sun hitting your eyes was the first thing that woke you up, the warmth inviting, but also very bright. Scrunching you’re face up, you tug the blanket over your head, turning to the side and taking a deep breath in. You find giving your body a few minutes to wake up before you force yourself out of bed makes you feel so much more awake and in a good mood.

Stretching your back, you rub the sleep out of your eyes and roll out of bed, trudging to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

Yawning as you walk into the kitchen, you make yourself an iced coffee before starting on breakfast. Putting on Rumours, you sing quietly to yourself while making a scramble with a bunch of veggies to get your greens in early.

Heading back to your room with hot sauce in hand, you light some incense and take a few bong rips before eating your breakfast quietly on the window sill. That was something you absolutely LOVED about your room, the edge of the window was just wide enough for you to sit (or lay down) and admire the view of palm trees and beautiful blue skies.

Opening up Misery, you finish a few chapters and mindlessly eat for a bit, listening to the birds chirp and the buzz of the city waking up. Once you finish your food, you go sit cross legged on your meditation pillow, facing the floor length mirror as you make sure your posture is straight. Putting on your favorite meditation music, which, at the moment, is 432hz Healing Tones, you take a deep breath in, clearing your mind and allowing the sun and healing vibrations to roll over you. You imagine yourself breathing in healing energy and nothing but love, and exhaling all of the stuck, negative energy, trying to ‘push’ it out with your breath. Sometimes it felt a bit silly, but if it made you feel loads better, why not do it?

About twenty minutes pass before you slowly blink open your eyes, yawning quietly before going into child’s pose, stretching your back and hips after sitting for so long.

Lying down on your back on the mat, you stare up at the ceiling, feeling an overall sense of being okay. Your body feels good, your mind feels good, your stomach’s full of butterflies that make you smile and blush at the thought of seeing Harry in a bit.

Pulling yourself up with a grunt, you throw on a swim suit and a random pair of shorts, not caring to bring a real top. After applying a bit of sunscreen on your face and shoulders, you slide into your flip flops and fill up a water bottle before heading out the door.

Unlocking Sunflower, you sit on the edge of the side door while sliding on your scuffed white rollerskates with obnoxiously bright blue wheels. They were your pride and joys, and made you feel as if you were in a different time, enjoying the breeze on your cheeks as you skate towards your spot. The journey only took about 15 minutes, with minimal stumbles, so it was already turning out to be a great day.

Finally pulling up to the small lot, you squat down to pull of your skates, putting them behind a rock along with your socks and shorts. You shook your head as you sprinted towards the ocean, leaping into the freezing water. It was the only way you were able to get in, you were never one to wade slowly in. Swimming about half a mile out, the waves crash over you coolly, soothing your quickly warming body. It was going to be a hot day today, good to know. Treading water, you look at the coast, everything looking so small. You made sure to breathe in, capturing this exact moment in memory. The feeling of salty water on your skin, wet hair stuck to your neck and the slight burn in your arms, but this was it. This was pure bliss.

But, you’re also not insane, so after a bit you swim back to shore, spending about ten minutes doing handstands and flips before getting out, wringing out your hair on your way up the beach. Climbing up the pile of large rocks next to cliff, you lay on top of a relatively flat one, allowing your body to dry off for a little bit and give you a few extra moments of sun.

You always hated dusting off your feet for forever before getting back in your socks and skates, but rather that than get sand in them.

“Fuck, I really am killing it today,” you pant to yourself, definitely feeling a burning in your thighs as you start heading home, desperately wanting a shower and some chocolate.

Throwing your skates in Sunflower, you slam the door closed and trudge up the steps to the apartment, practically falling over as you enter the door.

Laura looks up from her phone, perched on the countertop eating a bowl of cereal.

“Look at you, sexy girl, how was the water?” She teases, handing you a banana from the counter immediately because she knows you need it.

“Good,” you sigh, taking a bite and moaning, leaning against the wall for a minute in silence.

“When’s your date with Harry again?” She asks, glancing at the clock.

Oh fuck.

The clock read 10:30.

“Okay, that’s not bad, I just need to get my ass in gear,” you convince yourself, throwing the banana away and grabbing a spoonful of peanut butter. You didn’t have time to make yourself anything else, plus you were eating with Harry soon anyways.

“You got this. Do I get to meet him?” Laura encourages, raising her thumbs at you.

You laugh and nod. “Absolutely, just don’t ask about his exes or I’m going to look crazy.”

“Got it, no exes. Get in the shower, you’re dripping everywhere!”

You run upstairs, yelling back, “I’ll clean it up,” as you head into your room, turning on Currents by Tame Impala to pump you up as you shower, quickly washing your hair and body, shaving the itty bitty stubble just in case.

Running some curl cream through your hair, you try and scrunch and dry your hair as fast as possible, which doesn’t really work, but at least you tried.

A bathrobe envelopes you as you sit down at your small vanity, starting on a little bit of makeup. Dabbing a bit of concealer on your undereyes and small blemishes, you keep it semi-natural with just bronzer, blush, and highlighter, admittedly a ton, but who’s to say. Brushing your brows out and filling in the ends a little darker, all that goes on your eyes is a brown eyeshadow and a beautiful gold pigment, then comes drenching your eyelashes in mascara.

You turn your attention back to your hair, thank god you were having extremely good luck today, because it fell perfectly, the layers framing your face so elegantly that you had to smile at your reflection. Self-love is a journey, and you were glad to be in a good space.

Checking your phone finally, you find a text from Harry, sent 2 hours ago. Whoops.

Good morning, Y/N, just wanted to make sure we’re still on for 12. Hope you slept well.

Well, it’s confirmed, you’re a completely asshole. It’s 11:15 and you still haven’t responded to a text about a date happening at NOON.

AHH IM SO SORRY hi harry ! i don’t check my phone for a while in the mornings, i’m the worst, i know. we definitely are still on, haha, noon still work for you ?

You throw your phone on your bed while you stare at your closet, trying to find a good outfit for today.

Eventually coming to a pair of high waisted white shorts that you got from your mom, thankfully having the same waistline as her in high school, and a light blue silk tank top with gold straps. Planning on wearing your black boots with the gold detailing, because, hey, it seems you’ve got to up your fashion game dealing with Harry, you place them next to your bedroom door before checking your phone.

You scared me for a minute, I was about to go eat a very sad lunch by myself. I’m going to start heading over, that alright by you?

You giggle quietly at his response, typing out,

sounds great :) i’m planning on wearing a pair of boots, should i bring sandals or anything ?

Woah, trying to outdress me?

He sends the next one moments later.

Just teasing, boots will be fine. We’re going to this cafe I really like.

of course i’m going to out dress you, who do you think i am ? and awesome !! see you in a bit !!

You grab a small black bag, putting your sunglasses case, gum, keys, wallet, chapstick, lighter, your dab pen (you never know), and a small rollerball perfume inside. Sliding in some gold hoops and placing your rings back on your fingers, you wiggle them a bit. They always look a bit naked without them on.

Putting on your boots, you head into the bathroom to brush your teeth once more before Harry arrives. But nope, the doorbell, rings as soon as you start brushing your molars.

“Shit,” you gasp, heading over to the door, toothbrush in hand.

You swing open the door and rush out, “Hey, Harry, I’ll be out in two seconds, come on in.”

Taking in his appearance, you grin at the white sunglasses pushed in his hair. Wearing a white t shirt, it’s tucked into a pair of blue pants that matches your shirt to a goddamn T, which you can’t help but laugh at as you walk away. Passing Laura in the hallway, you give her a look as she walks over to him.

Their conversation travels through your open door as you finish brushing your teeth.

“You must be Laura,” Harry starts, and you can just see him reaching his hand out.

“I am, it’s great to meet you,” she says, her smile bleeding into her voice.

“You have a beautiful home, so close to the beach too,” Harry compliments.

“Thank you, yeah, Y/N found this place forever ago and we’ve been living here since we moved out. My dad knew the landlord and they gave us a ridiculously low price for it, but I am not complaining.”

“Oh that’s sick, I’ve been in Malibu for just a bit, always kind of changing my location around LA and England.”

“That was what we thought we were going to do, but I definitely am glad we stayed here. Living in the city is fun and all, but it’s a lot, you know? We need our peace and quiet at home.”

You walk back out, purse and phone in hand, taking in their positioning. Laura’s sitting on a stool, cup of coffee in hand as Harry stands across from her, eyes on you as soon as you walked out.

“I’ll see you later,” you grin at Laura, sneaking another glance at Harry as you give her a quick hug.

“Okay, bye! Nice meeting you, Harry!” she smiles, and of course he replies with the same.

You close the door behind the two of you and he looks you up and down again, meeting your eyes and smiling.

“Hi,” you breathe out, his eyes capturing you immediately.

“Hi,” he whispers back, squeezing your exposed side. “You look really good, Y/N.”

You bite your lip to hide your smile, placing your hands on his shoulders, feeling the fabric (but really just his muscles). His hands immediately go to cup your waist, not pulling you in, just holding you.

“So do you. Like the blue,” you grin, moving your hands down to his waistband.

“Proper matching, I’d say,” he cheekily smiles, thumbs feeling the edge of your shirt’s material along your ribs, your breath hitching slightly at his movement.

You’re the first to pull away, moving your hand to lace your fingers together, tugging him gently down the stairs. He follows after you, squeezing your hand with his and shaking his head, trying to mask his smile by twitching his nose.

That gorgeous being of a car is parked in front of your house, the color alone bringing a smile to your lips, but now the top was down, which was about to make this a lot more fun.

“God, Harry, I might have to steal this from you,” you sigh, arms crossed as you look up at him seriously.

He laughs loudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Maybe one day I’ll let you drive it,” He whispers, kissing the top of your head before pulling away and opening your door like nothing happened.

You stand there still for a moment before blinking and getting in, holding his hands on the door when he closes it. Turning your body, you lean out the door, placing your hands next to his as you whisper in his ear,

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Sliding your lips along his cheek as you pull away, you plop back into the chair, putting on your sunglasses and messing with your hair a bit.

Harry clears his throat before walking around the car, sliding into the driver’s side and starting the car.

“Do you want to play music?” He slowly asks, his tone sending shivers down your legs.

You perk up at this, nodding quickly and taking the aux cord from him.

“I’d love to. Have you heard of Tash Sultana? They released an EP a few years ago, their voice is incredible. They make all their own loops and play every instrument by themselves.”

Harry gives you a side eye, grinning as he says,

“That’s some pretty new music for you, princess.”

Your lips part slightly and Harry watches closely as your cheeks flush, licking the side of his mouth with a grin.

“Have I found a nickname you like, Y/N?” His voice has raised slightly, obvious excitement in his expression.

“Only sometimes,” you shrug, trying to play that off as cool as possible. “And yeah, my ex actually introduced me to their music.”

Harry raises his eyes at this, bringing a finger to his lips to hold his laugh in.

“Why the fuck did I say that?” Your hands go up to your face as Harry finally laughs at you, turning the volume down just a little to listen to you.

Sighing for a second, you pull your hands away before blurting out,

“I don’t want you to think that I’m lying to you about not knowing your music or you, because I do listen to stuff released now, obviously. I’m not a music snob or one of those too cool for school people because I absolutely blast SZA when I’m drunk and I’m starting to overthink and-“

Harry cuts you off by taking your jaw in his hand, turning your face towards him. Perfect timing, as always, pulling up to a red light right when he needs it.

“Hey,” he whispers with a smile, stroking your cheek. “I don’t think that you’re lying to me, and I understand. I was kind of a dick for saying all that right away to be honest, but I get it. I listen to mostly oldies too, if I really think about it.”

You exhale, looking up at him.

“Okay. I’m still going to freak out about it and make sure you know.”

He squeezes your jaw slightly, scrunching his nose.

“No,” he cutely protests, and you can’t help but giggle.

He smiles in return and lets your jaw go, hands going back to grip the wheel a little bit tighter

The two of you drive for a little bit, not really saying anything. You can’t help but dance in your seat to the beat, silently mouthing the lyrics to yourself. Harry keeps glancing over at you, too, grinning at the way you blush when he notices you doing it.

“How was your morning so far?” You start, just wanting to hear him talk.

He has to talk a little bit louder over the wind, but he’s happy to get the conversation started.

“Quite good actually. I’m going to Cabo in a couple weeks and was just getting some early packing in. Don’t you hate when you go somewhere and realize you forgot something like a toothbrush at home?”

“It’s the worst, I always end up having to go to a corner store and get something. What’s in Cabo?” You ask, already so amazed at his lifestyle.

“Friend of mine is having a birthday, so we’re there for a bit celebrating, going to be an amazing trip. Happy to be here, though,” he adds, eyes flicking to yours as he says it.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

“What about you? How was your morning?”

“Really good. Sorry about not texting you back for so long, by the way. I just have this thing about using technology right after I wake up, it gives me pretty bad headaches so I go as long as I can without it unless I hear it ring. But it was super productive, I got a good breakfast and read in, meditated a bit, skated to the beach and went for a swim, then got ready for this.”

“You put me to shame, Y/N, you really do.” Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair.

“I just woke up in a really good mood. I can definitely be grumpy in the morning, I’ll tell you that,” you try to explain, scared of feeling too pretentious.

“Yeah? I can see you throwing a fit if someone wakes you up before you’re ready,” Harry nonchalantly says, looking at the rings on his fingers before checking your reaction.

Cheeks hot, you feel almost scolded by him, thankful for the large sunglasses on your face.

“You’re not wrong,” you finally agree, crossing your legs smoothly.

That doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, reaching a hand down to rest on your thigh almost immediately. His large hand wraps around your skin, thumb immediately starting to go in small circles.

“I started meditating a few years ago but I absolutely love it, I feel like it allows you to start the morning off right.”

Taking a deep breath before answering, you nod and say,

“Completely agree. It still can feel a bit weird doing it when I’m in a mood or anything, but whether you believe in it or not, having all that negative energy in you without doing anything about it isn’t good for you.”

“You’re quite cute when you talk about things you like. Light up like a little sun,” Harry smirks, pulling his sunglasses up to look at you, the piece of gum in his teeth allowing his jawline to be even more prominent. You do the same, placing them in your lap as you uncross your legs, his hand staying on your left thigh as it goes back towards the seat.

“Yeah?” You don’t stop looking at him, watching his eyes flit between you and the road.

Harry hums before adding, “I think you know that though.”

“That I’m quite arguably the epitome of all things golden? Of course, but it’s always nice to hear.”

You make a noise of protest as Harry removes his thigh to make a left, while simultaneously laughing at you.

“You are absolutely golden, love, don’t you forget it.”

He pauses for a moment before starting again.

“I’m going to warn you right now that there might be some photos taken of you when we go in or leave, or fans coming to take pictures. If that bothers you-“

Cutting him off quickly, you sit up, shaking your head.

“I dressed cute for a reason, if it happens it happens. I’m going to be pissed if someone comes for my outfit though.” You giggle at yourself and grab Harry’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I know what I’m signing up for. You’re good.”

Squeezing back, he looks down at his lap for a moment before glancing back at you, eyes so sincere your heart clenches a little.

“Thank you. Just... need a little reminder sometimes too.”

Unlacing your fingers, you stick your pinkie out, swearing, “I promise that I will always remind you that you’re not going to cause me any problems, and I’m not going to do the same. You promise to always remind me I’m golden?”

“‘Course, love. Was gonna do that anyways,” Harry chuckles, intertwining your fingers, heartbeat going just a little bit faster.

He couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to admit it to himself even, but your presence made his world just a little bit brighter. He couldn’t get you out of his mind, your smile, giggle, and sweet-smelling perfume was all he could think about since last night. His brain was trying to come up with reasons why this was a bad idea, how you could be using him, you were going to break his heart and leave without a second glance. But one look at your face, those eyes looking at him with so much wonder, made him hate the part of himself looking for excuses. These feelings felt way too much, too fast, but all he knew was he wanted to call you his girl. His sweet Y/N.

Parking his car next to some trees, he runs over to open your door, helping you step out and shutting the door behind you, placing the cover on the car quickly. The two of you walk into the cafe in silence, arms swaying next to each other. You figured he wasn’t comfortable holding hands in public on the first date.

The atmosphere of the Beachwood Cafe was everything you could want in a coffee shop. Absolutely stunning artwork covering the walls, a checkerboard floor, fun colors splattered all over. Your face must show how excited you were because you feel Harry bump you, grinning down at you. You hum, smile on your cheeks as he holds your face in his hands for a second.

“Like it?” You nod happily at his question, following the waitress to your table, one in the furthest corner from the door.

“Can I start you off with some drinks?” She asks, setting menus in front of the two of you. Harry gestures for you to go first and you quirk an eyebrow before turning.

“Can I please get a large iced coffee with some honey? Thank you so much,” you add, looking Angie, her nametag reads, in the eye.

“And for you?”

“A large iced americano would be wonderful, thank you, love.” Flashing that award-winning smile at her, she writes down his order and heads back to the front.

“This place is really cute, Harry,” you gush. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

His chest tightens at your cute face looking at him from across the table, the amount of gratitude coming from you at all times filling him with light.

“‘Course, honey. You don’t have to thank me,” He earnestly tells you, placing his chin in his hand.

“I know, but I feel like I need to,” you trail off, looking at one of the names of the scrambles on the menu. Snapping your eyes back up to him, Harry can tell where you’re going with this.

“Please don’t,” he half-laughs, half begs.

“But it’s so easy,” you pout, grinning when he sighs and waves his hand for you to continue.

“Should I ask how strong the Weid scramble is going to hit?”

Groaning into his palm, Harry tries his hardest not to laugh, but can’t help one escaping when you kick him under the table.

“Satisfied?”

“Very,” you nod, looking over the menu once more. “Have you had the Thai noodle salad? That looks hella good.”

“It is ‘hella’ good,” Harry teases, using quotation marks in the air.

“Right then, love, what’re you getting?” You respond in a British accent, folding up your menu.

“Probably the Brussels sprouts salad, it’s my usual here.”

You open your mouth to say something before your drinks are placed in front of you, Angie asking if the two of you are ready to order. Harry goes ahead and orders for the two of you, delicately grabbing the menu from your hands to hand it back to her with a charming smile on his face. Watching her walk away, you grab your drink, lifting it for a cheers.

“To living,” you simply state, Harry repeating it with a look in his eyes you can’t quite name.

“So,” you start, adjusting your position in your seat for a second. “You said you’re writing for your second album, right?”

Harry nods, licking his lips as he pulls away from his glass, catching the way your eyes wander to his mouth.

“Sort of. I want to, you know, take a break, try and just have some fun, rather than jump straight into writing and recording again. At the same time, I really fucking miss it. Writing and being in the studio and getting all that out just feels so good.”

The way his accent wraps around his words makes it hard for you to focus on what he’s saying all the way, realizing he’s waiting on you to respond.

“I definitely think you could use some down time. But that also doesn’t mean you have to stop making music. Write out your ideas when they come to you, and when you feel like you’re ready, start pumping them all out. I’m willing to bet $100 that you already have at least a few songs under your belt, though, am I wrong?” You grin at the headshake Harry gives you, catching the blush on his cheeks. “I knew it! We all do, it’s impossible to just not write, but don’t worry about timelines or due dates. You can’t rush art.”

“God, it’s just so good to hear out loud, I feel like you already know me,” Harry shakes his head, pushing his hair away from his face with one hand.

“I’m pretty good at reading people, I’d like to say,” your arm raising above you as you stretch a little, tilting your head from side to side.

Seeing your neck arch and the way your veins move slightly under your skin causes Harry to have to clear his throat a little, taking a sip of his drink as he feels his forehead start to sweat.

“What kind of artists do you normally write for?” He blurts out, trying to figure out how to get to know more about you in a roundabout way.

“If you’re offering me a job, I’m walking out right now,” you warm, raising your eyebrows. “Kidding. I don’t know, really, I write for a lot of my friends, like I said, when they need help on some of their own projects, or if I’m hanging out in the studio I get pulled around the rooms for a different set of ears. Working with Khalid was one of my favorite experiences, though, he was so fucking cool.”

Harry’s eyes sparkle at this, perking up.

“Love Khalid. He is so talented, and hilarious. I swear, my stomach was aching after being with him for a little while. I only asked because I think I’m trying to figure you out a bit. I just wanna get to know ya,” He shrugs, fingertips tapping on his glass.

“I wish you good luck on that task, Harry, I really do. The first step in recovering is admitting you need help,” you solemnly nod, bursting out laughing when he rolls his eyes and ATTEMPTS to hide his smile.

Your food is placed in front of you suddenly, and you jump, glaring at Harry for smirking at your reaction. He couldn’t help it, you were like a little puppy, overexcited and always jumping from place to place. Harry starts eating right away, sending you a quizzical look when you sit with your hands in your lap, almost like you’re waiting for something.

“You going to start eating, honey?” He gently presses, snapping you out of wherever you went.

“Sorry,” you blush, grabbing your fork and shaking your head a little. “I don’t know what the fuck that was about.”

Fuck, yes you did, and Harry knew that. You were waiting for his permission, and that thought alone sent you into a daze. Closing your eyes around the fork, you fought off the urge to moan and tried to push the fact that he already holds so much control over you out of your head. Snapping them open, you find Harry’s eyes on you, the look in them dangerous. Clearing your throat, you whisper, “It’s really good,” which Harry responds with a simple hum, leaning forward on his elbows towards you.

“You tell me if this is too forward or too much, yeah?”

Your lips part as you nod your head, not really ready for what’s about to cross his lips.

“I’ve been noticing certain... things that you do and, well, are you a sub, darling?”

Your throat dries, unable to break eye contact or even speak, only nodding when he squints his eyes a little at you. Fuck, this was not happening, you thought, reaching to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Like to hear that pretty voice of yours, yeah?” Harry urges you, hands fighting off the urge to hold your jaw in his fingertips.

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a swig of coffee to think of something to say. “I’m going to assume you’re a dominant,” pausing to let Harry nod, jaw moving as he chews. You throw your hands up, leaning back in your seat.

“You are the complete package, Harry, shit.”

He laughs at this, covering his mouth quickly. “‘S’all you. A dream, really.”

Your heart flutters at this, shit, no, this is a FIRST date, you cannot be feeling like this. Taking a bite of your food, you are able to just sit back and look at him. Watch how he sticks his tongue out while he puts a bite in his mouth, something you’ve done since you were a kid for no reason. How his hands look almost sinful holding the white napkin to his lips.

“Staring at me, love,” he comments after a few minutes, his eyes looking at you sweetly, like he didn’t mind, but just needed to call you out.

“Merde, je veux te sucer,” you breathe out in French, banking on him not understanding you.

“Viliane,” Harry tuts, clicking his tongue at you. Before you’re able to answer, Harry is handing his card to the waitress who passed your table, asking for two boxes for your meals.

Your eyes snap to his, all the oxygen leaving your body as he brings your plate his side, getting ready to pack it up for you.

“W-Where?” Is all you manage, drinking the rest of your coffee, before setting it down on the table, a drop of honey falling down your lip. Harry can’t help but swipe it off with his thumb, slowly placing it in his mouth afterwards, not breaking eye contact, with you.

“I live nearby. That alright with you?”

Nodding slowly, you sit quietly in the booth as Angie comes back with the check and two boxes, legs bouncing excitedly as Harry packages the food up.

“Come on, lovely, let’s get out of here,” he tells you, holding you by your elbow as you walk outside, heading straight for the car. He doesn’t bother taking the top off, opening your door for you without a word and shutting it, almost sprinting to the driver’s side.

His hand finds your thigh immediately, rings shocking the delicate skin and making your muscles tense, his fingers quickly moving to massage out these aches.

“You wanna give me a safeword, pretty girl?” His voice drips with confidence, his hands moving closer to where you needed him most. His eyes keep flickering back to you while trying to focus on the road. His curls are a mess around his sunglasses, the brown hair swallowing up most of the eye ware. A pinch on your thigh reminds you that he expects an answer, shaking your body out slightly before answering.

“The stoplight system’s good. Green, I’m good, yellow, slow down or take a break, red, stop everything. What kind of dom are you, Harry?” You push, wanting to know what you’re getting yourself into. You had done a lot of kinky stuff in the past, and there were some things you weren’t a fan of.

“Mm, I’m relatively easy going. Not going to give you any rules, unless we’re playing and have a scene set up. But,” he pauses to exhale harshly, “I’m quite mean, love. I like to take control, pick you apart bit by bit until you’re just trembling under me, can’t say anything but my name. How does that sound, puppy? Tell me now how you like it.”

His voice sends shivers throughout your body and you moan quietly, biting your lip to try and stifle it. Harry’s words circle around your brain, your stomach tightening with need. All the air seems to escape you, but you know he wants an answer.

“G-good. I like it rough, dirty, just wanna please you,” you stutter out, chest rising and falling rapidly. You absent-mindedly rub your fingers against your neck, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe while thinking about what he’s saying.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he moans, removing his hand from your thigh to place it behind your neck, squeezing it in his grasp. He knows what you want, even if he’s driving, he’s able to pick up on any little signals your body makes. Your back arches as you let out a breathy moan, eyes slipping closed.

“Tell me, princess,” he starts, squeezing the side of your throat to make you open your eyes and pay attention to him. “What do you want to happen when we get back to my house? Don’t want to go too far too soon.”

“Fuck, Harry, I just really want to suck you off, please, please, please,” you beg, a tear actually falling from your eye as you look at him. His pupils dilate at your words, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows harshly, mouth suddenly dry,

“Y/N,” he growls, reaching a hand to squeeze his growing bulge in his pants. His tanned hands and dark rings contrast the bright color, adding to your ever growing list of things that Harry does that turns you on.

The car pulls up to a gate and you sit there for a few seconds before Harry is buzzed in, probably driving way too fast back to his house. Parking in his driveway, he finally releases his hand from your neck and exits the car, making his way around to open your door. Holding your hand as you exit, he places his hand on your low back to guide you into the gorgeous home, the size of it taking your breath away. Harry gives you no time to admire it, shutting the door behind him with a slam before bringing his hand up your chest to rest on your throat, slamming you into the wall. He slips a leg in between yours and takes your hip in his free hand, guiding you to start grinding on his thigh. Your face flushes with heat as he tightens his grip.

“Know you wanna suck me off, but will you cum for me first? Don’t want this pretty cunt to go to waste.”

Your head rolls back and hits the wall, hips stuttering at his words, eliciting a chuckle from Harry as he leans in, breath hitting your lips before he envelopes them, encouraging you to start grinding faster. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, prying them open to lick into your mouth, your moans being instantly swallowed by him. Pulling away slowly, he maintains eye contact with you as he removes his hand from your throat to slip two fingers into your mouth. Feeling your wet mouth on him, sucking his fingers with such need, Harry groans lowly, removing his fingers to kiss you even harder, hands making quick work of removing your shorts.

“Such a naughty girl, can’t even wait to get to the bedroom, just has to have me feel you right here, hmm?” Harry scolds, removing his lips from yours to suck a mark into your neck, fingers moving to feel your wetness through the cloth underwear. Your hands wrap around his curls as you shakily inhale, resting your forehead on his to moan out lowly.

“Fuck, Harry,” you sigh, feeling him rub along your folds through the fabric, pushing it ever-so-slightly inside of you. His mouth pulls away from you with a pop, only to bite down on the red skin harshly, working his way up to your mouth once more. He bumps his nose against yours and opens his mouth to move his tongue past your lips. Your head is spinning, breath ragged as you suck his tongue with yours, feeling the vibrations in your mouth when he moans lowly, pulling a whimper from you.

Suddenly, he drops to his knees, pulling the thong down with him. You swallow at the change in pace and allow him to help you step out of them.

“Wanna take your boots off, sweet girl?” He checks, kissing your inner thigh softly as you lean fully against the wall. You think for a second, these were pretty comfortable, pretty solid grip, why not stay in them?

“‘S okay. Perfect height for you,” you breathe, bucking your hips up. He doesn’t even wait a second to smack your pussy, grabbing your thighs to spread you even wider.

“Filthy, you are,” he growls, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit, a gasp immediately falling from your lips. He looks up at you and grins, licking long stripes through your folds, almost like he’s trying to remember how you feel. He takes his time catching your wetness slowly, despite the little gasps and moans coming from you. Flicking his tongue over your clit for a second, he pulls back to blow cool air on it, the motion causing your legs to falter for a second.

“Gotta stay still, okay? Can’t have you falling over,” he spits directly on your core as he says this, looking up at you with his jaw hanging slightly open, loving the way your hands go to your hair to find something to grab on. He smirks to himself, licking into you while his hands find your hips, pinching the delicate skin between his fingertips. He collects as much of you and his spit on his tongue as he can, swallowing around your clit after he sucks it into his mouth. The suction makes your hips fight to buck up into him, but you use all of your strength to stay still, causing your thighs to start quivering in his palms. Harry grins and scrapes his teeth along your clit, your loud moan going directly to his quickly hardening cock.

“Taste so fucking good, angel,” he groans, nose rubbing against your clit as he fucks his tongue into you, the soft muscle dragging along your walls and guiding your wetness into his mouth. The sounds coming from him are obscene, loud slurping, sucking, and spitting onto your trembling pussy.

“Fuck, Harry, I’m not going to last,” you cry out, feeling yourself start to clench around him. He grins around you, pulling away to thumb at your clit and look directly into your eyes.

“Mm, that’s not how good girls ask,” is all Harry gives you, slipping a finger inside and immediately curling it towards himself, finding your g-spot with ease. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly while his tongue draws designs on the sensitive button.

“Please, Sir, can I come?”

This has Harry moaning against you, pinching your clit between his teeth as he slides another finger in, fucking into you faster. Your eyes roll back, one hand splayed against the wall, another in his hair to give you some sort of balance. He relentless massages and thrusts into your g-spot with his fingers, feeling you clench around them so tightly that his head starts to spin. “That’s it, puppy, ask me again,” he demands, the title you gave him sending shivers throughout his body. He sucks harder on your clit, somehow speeding up his fingers inside you. A moan vibrates against your center when you pull on his curls, your hips bucking up against his waiting hand.

“Sir, please please please can I come? I’ve been so good, haven’t moved,” you beg, gasping loudly when your legs start to shake noticeably. Harry pulls away, looking up at you and grunting out,

“You have been such a good girl, haven’t you? Go. Cum, now, right fucking now on my tongue.” A loud slapping noise is heard when Harry smacks your ass, the pain sending you over the edge. Your head hits the wall with a thud, but your moan drowns everything out, the guttural sound coming from your soul. Tilting your head back, you cum into his mouth, one leg slipping out from under you and Harry places it on his shoulder without a second thought, holding you up as you ride out your orgasm. The tightness in your stomach releases and your pussy trembles around his fingers, only encouraging him to continue the constant pressure on your g-spot.The strength of it knocks the wind out of you and sends electricity throughout your finger tips, your hips slowing down their rocking motion as Harry eases his fingers out of you. He continues to lick you clean before placing your shaky legs back on the ground together, trailing his hands up your body as he stands up.

“Thank you,” you breathe into his chest, holding on to his hips for balance. His chuckle vibrates against your cheek, and you feel him move your hair out of the way to kiss your shoulder.

“Of course, lovely. How you feeling?” He is all smiles, his voice gentle and caring as he breathes in your smell, leaving small kisses along your neck.

“G-good,” you stutter out, nudging his head to make eye contact with you. He pulls away after a second, one arm going around your waist when he notices how you’re practically falling over with how shaky your legs are. Smirking, he places his other hand on your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. Tasting yourself on his tongue was too much for you, whining into his mouth before pulling away.

“Can I suck you off now?” You ask shyly, using your best puppy dog eyes. And, wow, do they work. Harry groans, biting your bottom lip harshly before pulling away, not wasting a second before pushing down on your shoulders. You topple to the ground easily, landing surprisingly softly (thanks to Harry’s expert hands), on the hardwood floor. After helping him remove your shirt, you place your hands behind your back immediately and tuck your chin down, grinning to yourself when you hear the moan Harry let’s out at your position.

“Spoiled little girl. Gets everything and more that she asks for, hmm, yes?” Harry demands, tugging your chin up by his hands. His eyes are pointed, staring directly into yours, pupils blown out and hair a mess behind him. You can see the pieces stuck to his forehead from sweat, but his chin glistens with something that has to be you.

“Yes, sir, so good to me. Wanna make you feel good, please,” you beg, leaning closer into him, the difference in clothing setting you into a daze, seeing him fully dressed while you’re waiting on your knees in front of him, naked, panting, and pleading to have his cock down your throat.

“Greedy,” he sighs, taking his hand away from your face to slide off his shirt, tossing it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. He keeps his eyes trained on yours, daring you to avert them as he unzips his pants, stepping out of them. He looks away for a second to pull of his boots, and you take your time admiring his thighs, because, fuck. They were thick, muscled, tanned, and the little tattoos on them were asking to be bitten, you made a mental note to do that later.

“Got a bit of a staring problem, love.”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your daydream, eyes flickering back up to him, mouth dropping open when he’s bare in front of you, slowly stroking himself. You involuntarily make a little noise in the back of your throat, sticking your tongue out for good measure. Seeing Harry’s hips thrust up into his hand and his neck vein pop was confirmation enough for you, but you waited for him to put himself in your mouth, absolute torture you must say.

Harry finally takes mercy on you, moaning out, “God, you’re such a little cockslut, just want something in that fucking mouth of yours. Bet I could leave my fingers in there all day and you wouldn’t complain once,” when he eases himself into your open mouth.

You flatten your tongue on the underside of him, not breaking eye contact as you slide off his cock to lick at his tip with feather light touches, drawing figure eights along the top. Suckling lightly on just the head, you feel a spurt of precum land on your tongue, licking it up happily. Tearing your eyes away from his, you open up your throat to begin taking him deeper, feeling his hand immediately come to your hair as you do this.

“Yes,” Harry draws out, allowing you to take control for a moment. You wanted to suck him off, so who is he to tell you how to do it? The view is what is killing him the most, though. Your tits bouncing as you slurp him down, spit falling onto your thighs, your little bit of stomach pudge falling over as you completely lose yourself in making him feel good. That is what gets him to buck into your mouth, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he begins to thrust into you. You pull away after a moment, jerking him off steadily as you swallow and look up at him.

“You can fuck my throat. Don’t have much of a gag reflex, anyways. Wanna see how you like it, Sir,” you pant, not giving him any time to think before you take him back into your mouth, placing your hand on the wrist that’s in your hair, giving him another okay.

“God, Y/N, you’re heavenly,” Harry breathes, testing out the waters by doing some shallow thrusts, only then beginning to actually throat-fuck you. He places his other hand around your neck, essentially pulling you into his throat and choking you from both ways. Your eyes roll into the back of your throat and you place your nose against his belly, breathing in deeply. Harry pulls himself out of you, rubbing his cock against your cheeks.

“Feel so good,” he draws out, easing himself back into your waiting mouth, rubbing the head on the ridges on the roof of your mouth. He moans through closed lips and tilts his head back, giving you the chance to admire his strong jawline from this angle, body sculpted by Michaelangelo himself. He had no room to call you all these beautiful names while he looked this fucking good getting his cock sucked.

You start speeding up your bobs, keeping him deep in your throat and only picking up a little, the change in pressure earning you a tug on your roots when Harry pulls you to look up at him.

“Mm, you want me to cum, don’t you, dirty girl,” he grunts, a lazy grin on his now flushed face. His thumbs make their way to press on either side of your cheek, moaning lowly when he feels himself through the tissue.

You hum around him, using your tongue along the vein you can feel, looking up at Harry with such need in your eyes. You pull off for a quick second, gasping loudly while saying,

“Want you to come in my mouth so bad, want to taste you and make you feel as good as you made me,” Taking him back in your mouth and sucking him off with a vice-like grip.

“Fuck,” Harry half-laughs, half-moans. “You’re incredible. Gonna make me come so fast, you’re taking me so fucking deep.”

Not even a minute later, you feel him begin to pulse in your mouth, pulling back to just suck on the head, using your tongue to dip into the hole, and Harry cums with a loud shout, burying his cock down your throat as he shoots ribbon after ribbon of come into you. You keep your eyes at his face, remembering how his mouth looks wide open, his eyes pinched closed, hair making a perfect halo around him. His throat makes you want to cry, the veins popping out and slightly red. He stays in your mouth for a while, allowing you to suck him dry and soften slightly, before pulling out of you with a pop.

“Thank you,” you croak out, swallowing what’s left in your mouth and leaning into his touch, quite spent if you were being honest.

Harry had to look away for a second, moving his hand to hold your head while he caught his breath. You were right about being golden, your skin shone, and you just radiated everything good in this world, right after he had his cock balls deep down your throat nonetheless.

“You’re too much, beauty. Thank you, did such a good job,” he gushes, kneeling down. He takes your chin inbetween his fingers and kisses you softly, just barely moving his lips. He leans his forehead against yours and wipes your lip with his thumb, allowing you to suck the bit of cum still on your face off with a blush tinting your cheeks.

“Reminds me of this morning, a bit,” he giggles, laughing louder as you hit him in the chest, grumbling ‘dumb’. He pushes your hair out of the way and holds your face in his two hands, effectively shutting you up as you breathe in deeply, feeling strangely comfortable being this vulnerable with him this fast.

“Do you wanna take a bath with me right now? Know you were on shaky legs and this hard floor for a while,” he pouts, kissing your forehead softly. You nod slowly and he smiles, nodding against you before pulling away to unzip your shoes, placing them next to the wall before he’s picking you up with way too much ease, pulling a shriek from you.

“‘Sorry, love, your poor legs okay?” he asks, holding you to his chest with one arm, using the other to hold your thigh. He receives another nod to the shoulder and he nuzzles you, trying to see what’s happening.

“I’m okay, just tired,” you sigh, and he murmurs an ‘okay’ kissing your temple before allowing you to sink back onto him, making a mental note to ask you about it once you’ve got your breath back.

“Why don’t you go turn on that shower and wash yourself real quick with some warm water and I’ll have the bath ready when I join you, that okay?” Harry whispers, sliding you down slowly. He pushes you toward the large glass door and you smile back at him, your heart bursting with appreciation.

This one is going to change you.

A/N: and that’s a wrap !! lemme know if you guys prefer this kind of phrasing (‘you said’), or if you like ‘she said’, or ‘i said’ better. this is my first time working with a full story using y/n and second/third person kind of view, so pls bear with me. also !! i know some people aren’t really cool with weed. im a ~stoner~ (such a weird thing to type out lmao) so i smoke a lot, but if y’all aren’t comfortabke with me mentioning it p much every other chapter, let me know !! (it can even be anonymously sent in) hope you liked it, and let me know if you have any other requests for future chapters or just one shots💗💗

- lana💔

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #dom harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

loving someone • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

warning: angst, but a happy ending! some swearing, richie is neurodivergent, unedited

[losers + reader are about 17 in this]

1.3k words

♡

today was not a good day for richie to forget his meds. he can’t stop fidgeting and his mind is going way too quick for him; and he can’t stop obsessing over that word, love - all because of what bev had told him at 10:27 am this morning.

more importantly, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

a tried and true product of his upbringing and his failed past relationships, richie tozier cant help but think that love is some sort of dishonest glistening balance act, a currency used to trade other’s affections for a few months or years in someone’s bed. it was just manufactured to be attractive, glamorous and sought after in all walks of life. when in fact, as he learned, love is complex, terrifying to navigate, dangerous, and always deceiving.

despite being a boy at the peak of naivety, he knows he’s rejecting this notion of loving (although he cannot seem to stop) and, more importantly, being loved, on the basis of fear.

but that’s the thing about fear, isn’t it? it’s comfortable, it’s accessible. he can do so much with fear by his side - almost as much as what he can do with you by his side.

he’s with you right now, and he’s staring at your glowing figure and he’s so overwhelmed he thinks he’s going to vomit.

the quarry was empty and you had asked him to meet you here, so now the two of you sit side by side, your legs dangling off the cliff.

the afternoon sun, warm on your bodies, is making you look more and more like an angel by the second and richie thinks if he loves you any harder he might fucking combust.

you’re too goddamn beautiful. and he knows that you love him too, because bev told him so earlier this morning. she had whispered it to him, knowing that it was going to be serious information that completely changed him.

she didn’t know it would fucking kill him, though. sheesh.

“richie?” you ask him then and he has to suck a long drag out of his cigarette to calm his shaking hands. he hums in question, looking to you and not trusting his voice.

“can we... i think we need to talk about us.”

and he’s gone, he’s drowning in the noise of his own heartbeat because he’s fucking terrified, he’s so scared.

what happens when you fight?

what happens when richie says something awful that he doesn’t mean and you’re both up late, him because of self loathing and you because you don’t know how to say those words: you’re too much, richie.

you were always too kind. too forgiving of him when he broke your bike, when he punched bill back in eighth grade, when he runs his mouth and gets the shit kicked out of him, when he bounces his leg or flicks paper into your hair because so much is happening in his head that it’s overwhelming.

so what happens when you realize that you don’t have to take pity on him anymore? that your love, while not in it’s intent, is superficial?

what happens, because he knows he will be the one to blame when it all goes to shit because you couldnt ever do anything wrong.

what happens when you roll your eyes in malice instead of amusement? when you say you hate him and you really mean it?

what happens when he’s too impulsive and he does something stupid like shaving his head and looks even uglier?

how could you ever love him?

he can’t do this, he can’t, because he knows you’re going to be disappointed and you’re still waiting patiently for him to respond.

so instead of giving you the asnwer that you deserve- the richie of it all, the ‘i love you too much and i’m not good enough’ of it all, he just tips his body forward.

he lets gravity take over because what else is there to do? he closes his eyes, one hand holding his glasses so he doesn’t lose them as his body rockets towards the water, away.

away, away, away.

and he’s in bliss as the cold water envelopes him and he thinks for a moment he could stay down here forever - maybe become the quarry troll. the losers could come visit him until they grow up and their potential brings them away from this dreaded town.

away from him.

but his peace is broken by a body - yours, he knows. he’s got every inch memorized. you’re pulling him up to surface with you and you gasp, looking at him with that look. he wants to yell at you, he wants you to see what he sees.

(i'm in love and you've got me, you need to run away)

“richie, please listen to me.” you say and he studies your face. you’re wearing the clothes you were in at school (so is he, but you actually look good) and your hair is soaking.

he nods and let’s out a weak, “okay.”

your hands are on his cheeks and he’s forced to stare into the eyes of beauty, of love, of his future and he’s terrified but he just wants to kiss you and hold you forever.

he hates himself for it.

“richie, i’m in love with you.” you say softly, thumb stroking his cheek. he shakes his head, cursing himself for his stupid butterflies and screwing his eyes shut.

“you don’t have to say it back. i don’t expect you to, i just had to tell you.” you add and he feels tears streaming down his cheeks. he can hear them hit the water that keeps him grounded. or maybe he’s grounded by your hands, but suddenly he’s lost because your hands are gone. his face feels cold in their absence.

“please, don’t cry. we can go back to how it was, rich. i swear, i just want you to be happy.” you say softly.

he looks at you for the first time since your confession and your nose is red, lip caught between his teeth. “that’s..that’s not love...” he says weakly, feeling lost and sounding unsure.

“of course it is, richie. i want you to do what makes you happy. whatever it is.”

“what if... what i want..” he starts but he can’t finish. he can’t, he can’t. he can’t.

but you don’t push him. he gathers his breath, “i want you, forever. but you’ll just end up hating me.” he whispers, his heart stinging. you step closer to him but don’t try to touch him.

you shake your head, “do you think you could try to let me decide that for myself? because i’ve loved you for so long and i trust you, richie. i trust you and i want all of you. this, all of it.” you say again and richie’s shoulders slump.

you trust him.

“what we have.... it’s worth giving a try, don’t you think?” you say softly and when he looks at your eyes, he feels almost like he did before bev told him this morning.

“okay.” he says, feeling stronger already. you give him a small smile and he melts. his head doesn’t hurt very much anymore. let you decide for yourself... that may be okay.

“you sure, rich? i don’t want to pressure you into anything. what you want is the most important.” you whisper to him, looking nervous.

he shakes his head, “i do love you. i do, i love you. and it’s worth it. you are.” his words are as dejected and clumpy as his head feels but he must’ve done the right thing because you’re smiling at him and his pain is leaving his body like it’s been washed away by your unexpected jump into the chasms of the quarry.

“yeah?” you ask, and he nods again, staring at your lips. he can’t find the words, but his shaking hands come up to pull you closer to his body. you let him, your hands coming to reach his shoulders. you look how he feels - in love, happy, and not afraid.

he kisses you then, and you kiss back softly. patiently.

he loves you so much and he thinks you might be the person to show him the true nature of raw, pure love.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #the losers club #losers club x reader #losers x reader #richie has adhd #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #my writing

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brooklyn-times · 4 years

Text

Rising Sun

BUCKY X READER

Summary: An early morning rendezvous.

Warnings: fluff.

A/N: It has all my favorite things and I just can’t help it. also, buck’s birthday. happy reading!

Masterlist

Consistent banging on the door wakes Bucky up at an ungodly hour.

And he is 99.768% sure he knows who it is.

The alarm clock next to him reads 4:23 and he is nothing short of horrified. And the fact that he knows you hate waking up in the morning anytime before nine leaves him alert.

Was something wrong with you?

Did you have one more of your nightmare?

Were you under att-

"Open the fucking door, Bucko," a voice shouts from the other side. "My arms are hurting."

In record time, he is off the bed and opens the door, frantically looking at you, searching for wounds or anything which would cause you pain.

He freezes when he looks at four large pizza boxes, two balanced on each hand.

"What?" He asks, stupified. He is stuck somewhere between shock, horror, and surprise.

"Come on, hurry up. Or we'll miss the sunrise," you say, pushing past him into his room. Uninvited.

You know you don't need an invite.

"Sunrise?" Bucky feels stupid, repeating what you say, but he is still suffering from the repercussions of the false alarm.

"Uh-huh," you nod and sit on his bed cross-legged, pizza on either side. "There is this cliff in the countryside. They say it's got one of the best sunrises view near New York."

"Didn't think I deserved a warning before dropping by, huh?" Bucky asks, glaring at you.

"I found out yesterday night at one. Couldn’t really warn ya." You are fidgeting, legs shaking and looking around his room like you haven't spent three-fourth of your nights here.

"Why were you awake at one? And how did you wake up so soon again?" Bucky asks, incredulous. He thinks his mind is going haywire.

"Buckyyy. Stop with the questions. Get ready. The sunrise is at 5:45. Its a forty minutes drive from here and it's already 4:28!"

"Calm the hell down," Bucky rolls his eyes and sighs. "Gimme five minutes."

"I'm counting!" You warn as Bucky rushed to the washroom.

Excretory jobs, a brush of teeth and a face wash later, Bucky and you head out the room, both of you with two pizza boxes each. You both creep down the hallways quietly, not wanting others to wake up.

You both reach the garage when Bucky stops you. "Wait. We both don't have a car. How are we even getting there?"

The wicked smile you give him sends a shiver down his spine. You turn around and point at your pant pockets with your head.

"Take the keys out."

Bucky balances the pizza boxes and grabs the key from your pocket.

When his fingers brush against the exposed skin between your shirt and pant, he thinks he might have as well died.

He gulps.

"Whoa, Tony's range rover? Are you sure we are even allowed to use it?" He knows for a fact that Tony is very possessive about his cars. He had once sent half the iron legion behind Sam for driving his Audi.

"The last him I asked somebody for permission for anything was when I was eleven. And anyway, my pout and puppy eyes is something Tony cannot absolutely resist. No matter how angry he is."

Nobody can resist it, Bucky thinks. Of all people, I sure as hell know what it’s like to be on the receiving side. It’s sorcery.

Praying that he receives protection by company, Bucky gets into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to strap in the seat belt.

He starts the engine.

With the pizza in the backseat and empty streets to navigate through in the New York City, Bucky feels the serenity he only usually feels with you. The wind blows through your hair from the open window and you huff in annoyance, trying to get them out of your eyes and mouth.

You never fail to look adorable.

Both of you enjoy the silence, happy enough to simply remain in the presence of each other without the need for useless words to fill the air. That is one of the best things Bucky likes about you. Although you talk more than an average human, you also remain quiet when necessary.

You both reach the cliffside in thirty-five minutes.

“I knew it! There are still thirty-five minutes left!” Bucky groans, leaning back into his seat. What he won't admit is that he'd rather spend those thirty-five minutes with you than sleep.

“Shut up, old man,” you grit out. “It's at least better than being thirty-five minutes late.

Bucky hums. “Admit the fact that I'm right.”

“Over my goddamn dead body.”

Bucky grins and shoves your legs off his lap and gets out of the car.

Still considerably dark, he sits on the car hood, not feeling too good about sitting on the ground with insects as the company. He knew for a fact that the only thing you have packed is food and there is no mat or blanket. You thought only about food about 75% of the time and the remaining time you just preferred to live a chaotic life.

Seconds later, you join him on the car hood. Lying back, you stare at the barely visible stars. It was at least must better a view compared to the city.

“You can sleep if you want, I’ll wake you up in time for the sunrise,” you offer, trying to be helpful.

Bucky snorts. “You and I both know that you'll end up sleeping.”

You kick him but don’t argue.

Bucky lies down next to you, his too-long legs almost reaching the ground. The sounds of owls hooting and birds chirping is everywhere and yet, none of them are seen. The cliff overlooks almost the entire city, few towers dwarfing the others. For some reason, the entire view makes you feel very poetic.

“I wanted to be a writer,” you say all of a sudden.

Bucky turns to look at you with his eyebrows so high up that you are almost offended.

“Hmm. I was around eleven when I was taken? By then I had written two power rangers stories, around ten thousand words each, in which there are only girl rangers. And one pet droid. My English teacher had loved it,” you laugh, your eyes brighter than the sun, remembering the times you always refer to as before. And the tiny bit of longing lacing the laugh breaks Bucky’s heart.

“Now? What do you want now?”

I’ll make sure you’ll get anything you want, he promises to himself and you. Anything.

“Live to be at least forty,” you grin and close your eyes when a heavy wind blows right into your face.

For a second Bucky feels terrified at the thought of you dying. Fists clench and he breathes heavily, trying to get rid of that thought and image that his nightmares are made of.

You were there, right next to him. Perfectly safe and happy.

“You'll live. At least for another sixty years. Promise.”

When you don’t reply, he turns and smiles to himself, realizing that you were already asleep.

What an idiot.

Twenty minutes later, you wake up to somebody shaking you.

You groan and turn away, only to have an unplanned trip down to the ground, courtesy gravity.

You hear Bucky laugh from behind and you roll over to your back.

And hold back a gasp.

The sky has a pinkish tinge now as opposed to the dark blue when you had fallen asleep, and miles away, the pink has faded into shades of red and orange.

And Bucky, Bucky looks like something out of paradise.

Orange rays fall directly on his face and his baby blue eyes seem to sparkle as he laughs, silky chocolate brown strands escaping from behind his ears with no hair tie to keep them together in place.

You can stare at him for eons.

“What ya staring at?”

When you try to reply, there is a knot stuck in your throat and coherent sentences refuse to come to your mind.

“Umm.”

“You didn’t hit your head too hard did you?” His expression turns into that of worry and he immediately rushes to your side.

This man probably has the most expressive eyes.

‘Yeah no, I'm fine. Sleep daze and headbang is not a good combination,” you manage to say, blinking quickly.

He still pulls you up and checks the back of your head for knots just in case.

Be still, beating heart.

“Five more minutes,” Bucky says, finally satisfied that you aren’t dying, as he runs his hand through your hair, removing the dry grass and twigs stuck to it.

“Tet's get the pizza out then.” You stretch your sleeping muscles, feeling the slight ache in your neck.

Note to self: Do not fall asleep on car hoods. They are a hazard.

Together, you and Bucky climb up to the roof of the car- you refused to sit on that hood again- with pizzas and make yourselves comfortable.

You snap at Bucky every time his hands shift towards the pizza, wanting to start eating already. He whines each time and you refuse to listen to him, trying to ignore the feeling of kicking a hungry puppy every time he whines.

He is such a goddamn baby.

Suddenly you gasp and interrupt his whining by pointing at the sky. “Bucky look!”

Bucky turns and the prettiest smile takes over his entire face.

From between the high rise buildings of New York, the Sun peeks out and orange light escapes, coloring the entire city and the sky in orange. The buildings which usually look so tall and magnificent merely appeared like lego toys splayed across the surface of the earth. As the seconds pass, the Sun further comes into view, until a minute or two later, you have the complete, uninterrupted view.

It is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

You sigh softly, trying not the make any noise which would disturb the moment. You look at Bucky and are overjoyed when he appears to be as pleased and awestruck as you.

Finally, you open the pizza box quietly while Bucky’s attention is captured by the sunrise. You place the candles which were hidden away at the corner on top of the pizza and light it.

“Bucky?”

He turns and you nod your head towards the pizza with candles alight on top of it.

Grinning, you take in the startled expression.

Guess it is a day of surprises for James Buchanan Barnes.

Leaning forward over the pizza, you smile as his eyes widen. Your lips brush against his stubble covered cheeks and a wave of shock alights every single nerve in your body and you close your eyes in happiness and wonder, and you whisper,

“Happy Birthday Bucky.”

tags: @all1e23

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #winter soldier #happy birthday bucky #birthday #fluff #pizza #sunrise #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #fem!reader #james buchanan barnes #love

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crystalgirl259 · 3 years

Text

How to Train Your Dragonblood 3: The Dragonblood Alpha Ch6

Ed and Cliff shivered badly as they flew on Karloff's back over a half-frozen ocean in the middle of a snowstorm. The sun was almost completely set by now, casting the sky in a beautiful light and dark purple with a faded yellow. High above them were dozens of stars starting to appear through the clouds. On any other day, Cliff, Ed, and Karloff would have found it beautiful. But they were too focused and worried about Kai and Jay to think about it.

"He's just like his mother! She could never stay put either!" Cliff suddenly shouted in frustration at his son's stubbornness. When he first met her, Libber may have come off as a little awkward, but once he got to know her, she was strong and uncompromising and was always willing to stand up for those who were helpless. Jay was almost a perfect copy of his mother and most of the time Cliff loved it, but not today.

"He's just twenty, and a Viking; I mean there couldn't be the worst combination." "When I think of how stubborn and senseless you were back in the day..." He trailed off as his expression switched to a hopeless one. "Huh, now not much has changed actually.

"Ah, you know how he's like; he won't give up, and if Jay finds Iron Baron before we find him..." Cliff gulped in fear at the thought. He had already lost some of his closest friends thanks to that monster, he wouldn't let him take his son.

"Nothing can happen to your boy as long as Kai is with him; he's a Fire Dragonblood for crying out loud!" Ed tried to reassure his friend, but it did little to help the old chief. While he agreed that Kai was powerful and cared about Jay, he was more stubborn and careless than his son. Cliff was about to voice his concerns when he noticed something in the corner of his eyes. Below them, a crack in the ice was seen. Cliff noticed it and made Karloff fly back.

As they approached the hole in, Ed leaned on the side and grabbed the floating helmet out of the water.

Sitting back up, he handed it to Cliff who carefully looked at it. He looked back and Ed caught his concerned gaze. Cliff looked down at his dragonblood in determination and offered him the helmet to sniff.

"Find them, Karloff!" He ordered. Karloff took a sniff, memorizing the scent. The Metal Dragonblood growled and started beating his wings faster as they ascended, the storm still raging around them...

****************

It took a few minutes until Jay finally got back to reality. A reality that was getting crazier by the minute. First, he breaks tradition by saving and falling in love with one of the most dangerous species of Dragonbloods, then he loses his leg, and now his mother is back from the dead and living with dragonbloods. Why did things like that happen only to him? Right now, Libber was leading Jay and Kai through a maze of rock caves. While Jay struggled to keep up, Kai was easily able to navigate through the inner ice caves from his past experiences living in the nest for years.

"Ho-hold on! Wait just a minute!" Jay shouted as he chased after his mother through the caves, but he was steadily ignored. Libber swiftly jumped on the rocks ahead of him, motioning for him to follow.

"You can't just say something like that and run off!" He exclaimed angrily as he climbed on the rocks after her, noticeably slower and less gracefully while Kai came after him. "You're my MOTHER?! I mean what the– Do you- do you grasp how insane it sounds?!"

"She does kinda look like you," Kai called from the back.

"NOT HELPING KAI!" Jay screeched at him as they reached a steep slope that Libber climbed in seconds.

"Come quickly." She pressured the couple.

"I have questions! Where have you been all this time?!" He demanded as he attempted to climbs after her but slipped so Kai grabbed his waist and easily pushed him from behind. Jay felt his face heat up and this earned a round of chuckles from the brunette. It really wasn't easy to go through such terrain with a prosthetic leg. He had seen some of the people from Ninjago struggle and he had years of experience. Jay tumbled forward and got back on his feet right after to keep going.

"What've you been doing?! They said you were dead! Everybody thinks you were eaten by a..." He trailed off as they got out in an open, sunlit cavern where hundreds of different dragonbloods were flying around frozen structures covered in greenery. The sight brought gasped of wonder from both Jay and Kai. Kai was stunned to see such a peaceful nest. For most of their lives, he and Nya had been forced to join under that monster's rule and others were born there.

He would have never thought there was such an amazing place that was practically right next door to Ninjago.

As they step out, Jay and Kai glance at a group of baby Dragonbloods playing nearby. They both stepped back when a huge dragonblood flew right over them. Jay smiled at the multitude of dragonbloods flying freely in the open space. He got closer to the rim wherefrom above there was a creek running down the edge.

"Uh, Jaybird." Kai suddenly said and pointed up above them. Jay looked up and gasped when he saw the same Lightning Dragonblood hanging from the ceiling, his mother also holding it. The sapphire-colored dragonblood crooned as it tilted its head to look at them. Jay stared at the pair in shock. He honestly thought that he was the first dragonblood rider, yet here was his mother being so close to one. While a part of him was overjoyed that his mother was alive and well, a part of him was angry at her for being gone all these years.

He wanted to yell at her and tell her what it was like growing up with just a judgemental father and a disappointed village.

To make her feel as bad he felt his entire life. People might say he was being petty, but he didn't feel like that. But if she and the Lightning Dragonblood had a bond similar to the one he shared with Kai then there might be a chance for them to build bridges. His heart was still conflicted about this. Even though this place looked good he couldn't see what was so great about it to keep her away from her home, husband, and child.

"This is where you've been for 20 years?" Jay asked, not sure what else to say at the moment. Libber smiled and nodded as she observed him carefully, her face alight with happiness, hope, and a twinge of fear. Behind him, Kai sat down on a nearby boulder, seeing that this was a moment between Jay and Libber, not him. As he watched his boyfriend agonize on what to do, he was approached by a young Shadow Dragonblood. He chose to ignore the noirette and focused on Jay

"You... You've been rescuing them." Jay realized when he remembered what Clutch said about their fort being attacked. Libber looked around and nodded again. Jay was in complete disbelief as behind him the Shadow Dragonblood started nuzzling Kai in welcome. This caught the brunette off-guard for a second. After living with humans for five years, many of his friends and himself had had to force down their animal instincts. They didn't want to frighten the humans any more than they had.

Kai understood that the noirette didn't mean any harm, but he was worried that Jay might get the wrong idea and didn't want to upset the ginger-haired man any more than he was.

"You're not upset?" She asked a little nervously. Jay sort of was, but he didn't know how to tell her. His mother had been living among a dragonblood paradise while he had to put up with his father's disappointment and the villagers' mistrust.

"What? No, I-I don't know..." He stammered as Kai stepped away from the Shadow Dragonblood who watched him crestfallen. "It's a bit much to get my head around, to be frank; it's not every day you find out your mother is some kind of crazy, feral, vigilante, dragon lady." He chuckled awkwardly and Libber smiled sadly. Indeed, her ideas weren't welcomed. She could tell her son was heartbroken to hear how much happier she was among the beasts.

In the same way, Jay was more at ease on the back of his boyfriend.

With a quick look, the Lightning Dragonblood offered Libber a claw that she hooked her staff around and was lowered down, sliding on a wing. As soon as her feet touched the ground, the Lightning Dragonblood transformed into their human form. They were revealed to be a woman who was around the same age as Libber. She had long auburn hair kept in three separate braids behind her back and pale skin. She has a slim figure, but Jay could clearly make out some strong muscles.

She wore a midnight blue, long sleeve tunic, an orange belt, and black leggings that appear layered.

She had armbands and boots with spikes on the sides. She also had a few layers of cloth wrapped around her waist, with her left leg exposed.

"At least I'm not boring, right?" Libber replied as Jay looked around as an Ice Dragonblood in its dragon form bumped his shoulder and other young dragonbloods started coming over to look at them. They hadn't seen a Fire Dragonblood in years and the only human who was nice to them was Libber. He was hesitant to touch it but gave in when it continued.

"Well, I suppose there is that... one specific thing..." Jay muttered, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"Do you... Do you like it?" She asked as she approached him unsurely.

"I-I-I don't have the words..." He admitted, looking cautious and a bit hurt while Libber was acting like a fearful, untrusting dragonblood. But they didn't expect things to be fixed with a snap of the fingers. This was a very delicate matter. Unfortunately, Ninjago people didn't do delicate. Meanwhile, Kai was surrounded by curious dragonbloods. One dragonblood sniffed him down the clothes and then lifted him up with their bare hands. Kai was stunned as he found himself supported only by a stranger's hands.

"HEY! HANDS OFF THE MERCHANDISE YOU GODDAMN CREEPS!" He roared and they quickly backed off. Libber finally noticed the brunette and immediately got closer to him, hunching down.

"Can-Can I?" She whispered to her son, already seeing his bond with Kai. She had only caught a glimpse of a Fire Dragonblood when one attacked Ninjago all those years ago. She had been living here for about two decades and she had never seen a living, breathing Fire Dragonblood. Libber had feared that they were extinct. At Jay's approval, she crouched and dropped her staff.

"Oh, he's beautiful." She cooed as she lifted a hand for him to sniff then traced her hand through his spikey brown hair.

"Of course I am." Kai laughed along with her and nuzzled her cheek. Jay was little put off by Kai's actions, but he knew the brunette long enough to know he only loved Jay and he was prone to these animal interactions, whether he was in his human or dragon form, even though he mostly only did it in private with Jay and other dragonbloods. Jay was surprised to see his mother right in her element. She was still so beautiful as the pictures Cliff had shown him, and every one of her moves was graceful and fluid.

It spoke of years of trust and attention dedicated to the dragonbloods she had been living with.

It truly wasn't a big surprise to see her get along with Kai, an outside dragonblood, so easily. Kai watched them get along and smiled warmly, happy to see his mother and boyfriend becoming friends. Without realizing it, Libber stood on her knees and kept the brunette's head in her hands.

"Um... I'm sorry, but what's your name?" She asked and Kai chuckled.

"My name's Kai, and I've been dating Jay for almost five years now, he's a great guy." He replied with a smirk as he caught Jay blushing, only to freeze when he caught Libber's wide eyes.

"You're both dating?" She gasped as her eyes kept darting back and forth between the brunette and her son. Jay cast Kai an angry look, which made his fiery boyfriend wince, before looking back to her mother.

"Yeah... as Kai said, it's been going on for a few years now and we couldn't be happier."

"Yep, we've been talking about a summer beach wedding and a little cottage by the lakes for the grandkids." Kai laughed and was soon joined by Libber while Jay spluttered and stumbled to find any words as his face turned scarlet.

"T-That's not what's happening! I-I-I mean, we've talked a-about it but there's n-nothing set in stone, a-and things are t-tough right now and-"

"Jaybird, relax, I'm just messing with you." Kai sent through the link and Jay relaxed almost immediately. Libber quickly noticed the change in mood and it didn't take her long to figure out what was happening.

"YOU TWO SHARE A LINK!?" She screeched as if she had just been told everything she touched turned to diamonds and gold.

"You know what the link is?" Jay asked, but he wasn't that surprised. If she had been living with Dragonbloods for twenty years then she must know all their secrets and probably shared a link with one or more.

"Of course, many dragonbloods only share a link with people they trust and love the most; it's typically only shared with family members such as parents, siblings, mates, or children."

"Do you share a link with anyone around here?" Kai asked, eyeing a few locals still hanging around.

"Um, no, I don't; I've been living here for twenty years and I haven't shared a link like that with anyone, not even Wisp." She admitted, looking a little disappointed, gesturing to the Lightning Dragonblood she was riding earlier. "I'm so pleased and happy for you both that you can have something as special as that." She smiled as she wrapped her arms around her son and his boyfriend, which the couple happily returned.

"Thanks, Mom," Jay muttered.

"Um, Kai, if it's not too much bother can I please see your dragon form?" She asked, feeling very awkward asking. Kai chuckled lightly before he suddenly vanished a flash of red light and a dragon stood in his place. Libber didn't hesitate to look the red beast over, running her fingers over every scar and scale as her eyes burned every detail into her memory.

"He might very well be the last of his kind." She said without thinking.

"Thanks for the reminded." Kai thought as he trilled dejected. Jay glanced at his boyfriend and felt sorry for him. He wanted to comfort him but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to approach the Fire Dragonblood's side while his mother was inspecting him. He settled for sending the brunette as much love and comfort through their link, which Kai was thankful for. Kai then walked around her and butted his head underneath her arm for more attention.

He rolled on his back in her lap as she scratched him as inspected his neck, causing him to purr.

"Look, he's your age! No wonder you get along so well!" She gasped in delight and Jay smiled. Kai was in much better spirits. Libber was very nice and entertaining. It was quite obvious she would be since she was the mother of his boyfriend. They stood in front of each other again, Libber tipped her head up and down like Kai and mimicking his yelps of happiness. "How did you manage to meet such a magnificent creature?" She asked her son, not taking her eyes off Kai.

Libber's enthusiasm was infectious and Jay, Kai, and the nearby dragonbloods found themselves smiling and cheering.

When the couple registered her question, their smiles dropped and almost all the dragonbloods sensed it and took off faster than a Speed Dragonblood could blink.

"I found him in the woods; he was shot down and...wounded." He gulped, a little worried about how his mother would take the news about how he was the one who basically crippled Kai. When he said that, Libber frowned as she stood while Jay sheepishly fidgeted on the spot and Kai looked anywhere but her or Jay. She walked to a Water Dragonblood who was in their dragon form, missing their right back leg, and ran her hand down its jaw.

"Vapore lost her leg to one of Iron Baron's traps." She said as bent down to grab her staff and walked over to a Mind Dragonblood. "Interis got his wing sliced by razor netting, and this... oh, poor Theuros was blinded by a tree snare, and then left to die alone and scared." She whimpered as she carefully took hold of a Poison Dragonblood's hand and he leaned into her touch. Jay nodded along with her as he took a good look at some of the other dragonbloods perched around them.

Some were missing patches of scales, hard to see with their dark coloring, and others had tattered wings, no doubt from flying non-stop and whatever wound they gained from the traps.

He and Kai both stiffened, however, when she pointed to Kai's prosthetic fin.

"And what of this? Did Iron Baron or his filthy trappers do this atrocity too?" She snarled as her voice turned cold and hard as she gripped the leather and examined it and the couple instantly paled.

"Ooohh... hehe, yeah... Huh, well crazy thing is..." He gulped as he swung his arms awkwardly and walked closer to his boyfriend. "I'm actually the one who shot him down." He reluctantly confessed, only to receive a confused and angry look from his mother. "It's-It's okay though, he got me back, right baby?" Jay giggled as Kai shook his head happily in Jay's arms as he kept running his hands over his scales. "You couldn't save all of me, could you? You just had to make it even! So, peg leg!" He exclaimed and he threw an arm around Kai's neck and lifted his foot.

Libber was at a loss.

It really was the most obvious proof of the Gods' sense of humor. Her son condemned a dragonblood and in turn said dragonblood also crippled him for life. Now they love and depended on each other. Kai to fly and Jay to escape life. Kai suddenly shook him off and dove down between Jay's legs, throwing the human on his back as he laughed nervously. Libber, just as uncomfortable, got on her knees to touch Kai's snout again.

"What did your father think of your boyfriend?" She finally asked the second most awkward question for the couple.

"Uh... he-he didn't take it all that well... but then, he changed; they all did." He smiled as a crease of disapproval crossed Libber's face as she listened. "Pretty soon, dragonbloods from the nest came to live in Ninjago with everyone." Jay giggled lightly, still a little stunned at that fact, but his smile dropped when she shook her head.

"If only it were all possible." She scoffed and Jay's blood turned cold at his mother's certain doubt.

"No, really-"

"Believe me! I tried as well but people are not capable of change, Jay; some of us are just born different." She sighed as she sat up and looked at him and then at Wisp as Kai returned to his human form. Wisp suddenly took off to the sky to join the other dragonbloods. Libber sighed sadly as she remembered her last night in Ninjago. The sky was red and filled with smoke as a large Earth Dragonblood flew overhead. As it swept up, she remembered seeing a burning hall, the light illuminating the sky and revealing even more dragonbloods flying around.

Screams were heard and a giant torch was lifted.

"Ninjago was a land of kill or be killed, but I believed peace was possible." She told her son as she remembered the Earth Dragonblood falling down right in front of a charging soldier. As the man lifted his ax to kill it, he was stopped by Libber grabbing his arm. She believed that fighting would only make it worse. But it was a very unpopular opinion. That night was one of the worst raids the village had ever suffered and not only that but the Chief and his family very nearly died.

The Earth Dragonblood quickly go back up and flew away and the man looked at her with contempt.

As he ran off after the dragonblood, Libber looked at her house and saw a dragon getting in through the broken roof.

"Then, one night, a dragonblood broke into our house finding you in the cradle." She sighed as she visualized Wisp walking into the house towards a baby's cradle. As soon as Libber entered the room she reached for a sword near the door. She stopped, however, holding the blade up, when she saw the dragonblood playing with Jay with her giant claw. As she looked at the laughing baby and the dragonblood she lowered the weapon in amazement.

Kai cooed, thinking of his boyfriend as a cute, little baby.

Jay didn't know if he wanted to glare at him or bury himself in embarrassment as his face turned scarlet again.

"I rushed to protect you, but what I saw was proof of everything I believed." She smiled at the memory. When Wisp noticed her, the dragonblood accidentally scratched Jay's chin, making him cry as she turned around on the human, growling under her breath. Libber quickly took a few steps back, holding the sword up. But as she looked in Wisp's eyes, she let it go. This wasn't a vicious beast, but an intelligent, gentle creature whose soul reflected her own.

They looked in each other's eyes and a bond was born.

But then, an ax flew between them. The dragonblood retreated, howling as Cliff appeared, dodging its lightning, as he told his wife to run. Libber grabbed Wisp's wing but she shook her off and turned back to face her. Seeing her cornered, Cliff made his way through the flames to his son. She remembered his husband shouting at her to hold on like she was in danger. Once Jay was safe in his arms, the Chief looked back at his wife to see her being carried away by the dragonblood.

He watched through the hole in the roof as the dragonbloods flew further and further away from him and his crying son.

"You and your father nearly died that night, all because I couldn't kill a dragonblood." She mumbled, unable to look at her son or Kai.

"Runs in the family." Jay smiled faintly, starting to piece things together, as Kai pulled him into a one-armed hug for comfort. There were still things left unclear, but he shouldn't jump to conclusions.

"It broke my heart to stay away, but I believed it would be safer if I did." She finished and a blind man could all the years of pain and sorrow in her face and eyes.

"How did you survive?" He asked, fearing that Wisp had taken her to the nest then they both managed to escape that monster, but Libber suddenly burst out laughing.

"Oh, Wisp never meant to harm me; she must've thought I belonged here, in the home of the great Dragonblood of Creation." She beamed as they started walking closer to the edge. Down below, in a pool of water, was a huge, white, and gold creature with giant whiskers that looked like a beard and hundreds of long shining spikes jutting out from the back of his head and all over his back. Dragonbloods were flying around him and bowed down to him when they got close.

Kai's eyes widened when he saw the ancient dragonblood below them.

Creation was one of, if not the most powerful elements in the world; rivaled only by the element of Destruction and the mythical First Born. Many secrets remained about the true extent of this dragonblood's powers and abilities. Many believed it was just a myth. This white and gold dragon possessed the elements of Fire, Earth, Ice, and Lightning and could affect the physical world in ways that Elemental Dragonbloods couldn't.

"This is the Alpha species, one of the few that still exists; every Nest has its Queen but this is the King of all dragonsbloods," Libber smirked when she saw Jay and Kai's stunned faces at the sight of this giant, stunning creature. "With his icy breath, this graceful giant built a safe haven for dragonbloods everywhere." She smiled as she pointed with her staff at the ice-covered roof of the cave while they walked down.

"Wait, that's the ice-spitter? He's responsible for all that destruction?!" Jay gasped as he looked at the ice-covered roof.

"He protects us! We all live under his care and his command." She snapped, thinking he was being rude. Behind them, a group of hatchlings appeared out of the foliage and converged on a frightened and annoyed Kai. The Fire Dragonblood was only saved by Wisp scaring them off.

"All but the babies of course, who listen to no one." Libber laughed loudly as the babies flew around and hung on the King's face, unbothered whatsoever. The white and golden dragonblood rose and spun to look at them. On the hill they were on, Libber and Wisp bowed down as Jay looked at the giant's head. Even Kai felt intimidated as he crouched lower to the ground. The Alpha stood right in front of Jay, before transforming into his human form.

The Alpha was an elderly man with a long white beard.

He was wearing white robes and a conical straw hat with a tattered cape. He seemed to pull a long staff out of nowhere and walked over to them. Jay stood frozen as his mother, Wisp, and Kai was on their knees in a sign of respect. The ginger-haired man had never once seen Kai bow down to anyone, not even at the nest. This did little to ease Jay's worry as the old man came closer, examining Libber's son. His face showed no emotion as he scanned the young man up and down.

Jay gulped, getting ready to either run, beg, or just stay still as a statue.

All of a sudden, the old dragonblood transformed again and puffed a breath out that covered the two humans and two dragonbloods. Jay, being closer, ended up with his hair covered in frost before returning to his spot in the creek.

"Master Wu likes ya." His mother laughed merrily.

"Master Wu?" Kai asked as they get back to their feet, feeling like they could relax again.

"Yeah, that's his name." She replied as Jay shook his head from the frost and gasped at the impressive creature. "You must be hungry." She smiled at the couple.

"Ah, yeah, I could eat." Jay nodded.

"Same." Kai grinned as he and Jay held each other's hand.

"Good! It's feeding time." She said as she gently took her son's arm and guided them further into the sanctuary...

#how to train your dragonblood #ninjago jay #ninjago kai #ninjago jay's mother #ninjago cliff gordon #plasmashipping

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peculiaridealist · 3 years

Text

Trouble In Paradise (Literally)

Summary:

"I'm leaving tonight. Come with me."

"Where?"

"Somewhere that isn't here."

-OR-

Kara woke up and found herself trapped in a facility on a mysterious island. Will she be able to escape?

Chapter 1: Welcome To Paradise

Kara opened her eyes and saw that the ceiling was unfamiliar. It alarmed her in a way which made her spring up on her heels and frantically scan her surroundings. Her suspicion that she wasn't where she she was last night was confirmed when she was indeed in an unfamiliar room with no other signs of life in sight.

"Where the heck am I?" She asked to no one apparently but herself, for obvious reasons, as she walked around the room, assessing each and every corner of it. She also tried to open the door but it was locked from the outside.

Great. Just great. She thought. Didn't know locks from the outside are still a thing.

Huffing from frustration, she settled back to the bed where she had woken up and stared- or more like glared- at the door. There she tried to remember what happened last night that ended her up in there but to no avail. All she remembered was her aunt, Mike, a dinner full of arguments, and then nothing... then something clicked.

"Of course." She rolled her eyes as everything made sense. "The classic drugging while having a dinner."

It wasn't like that kind of event always occurs but, Kara couldn't think of any other good reason as to why she can't remember anything.

Groaning in frustration, she laid unceremoniously. "Just where the heck am I, really?"

"You are here for the therapy, Miss Zor-El." Her attention shifted towards the now opened door, making her sit abruptly which she immediately regretted, and there stood two men with something in their hand. One held a plate of food and one held a glass of what looked like milk but she paid no mind to what they brought.

"Therapy? What therapy? And where am I?" She asked in confusion for she didn't need a therapy. There was no reason for her to undergo a therapy because there was nothing wrong with her.

"I cannot say with regards to anything about your therapy, Miss Zor-El. All I can tell you is that you're in National City's special facility." The man- which Kara just assumed as an attendant, again, for obvious reasons- answered. She was still in National City, which was a good thing. But, still, who needs a damn therapy?

"But I don't need therapy!" Kara exclaimed as she threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Please. Just eat, Miss Zor-El." The other attendant said and flourished the plate in his hand once more.

Kara glared at the two of them. Oh, she will eat alright.

"Of course." She plastered on her sweetest smile and extended her hand, looking like she was about to reach for the plate before grabbing the first attendant's head as she quickly reached for the second one's before he could even react and knocked their heads hard on each other, making them lose their consciousness.

After she made sure that they were indeed unconscious, she bolted out of the room as fast as she could and there outside, she saw more attendants and what she could only assume to be patients. Ignoring them all, she made her way outside the facility and ran towards the very end of the road, or hill for that matter. Her actions had drawn attention to the other attendants and before she knew it, some were already chasing after her, calling her last name. She must've attracted their attention, what with her running around and all.

As she had reached the end of the hill, she was shocked to see that if she wasn't looking at where she was going at all, she could've fell already. Turns out that the end was a cliff leading to the sea.

"Miss Zor-El, please get back here!" The blonde heard an attendant bellow and she took it as a signal to get moving so she trudged her way down as quick but cautious as she can to avoid from getting all Jack and Jill... like, the part where Jack fell down and broke his crown.

When she had successfully reached the bottom, she saw what seemed to be a cave entrance which was quite hidden if you're not paying attention to your surroundings for large rocks were obscuring its view, hiding it well. Nevertheless, Kara wasn't sure what was inside the cave, but she'll take what she can get as long as it will help her from getting captured again by those pesky attendants. To her, it was better to encounter some species than to be taken back to that goddamn facility. Taking one last glance behind her for good measure- or you know, just to make sure that no one has been able to follow her all the way down to where she currently was, Kara made her way towards the cave.

"Wow..." Kara breathed out as soon as she got inside the mysterious cave.

Instead of encountering unknown species, like what she had just assumed, she was instead overwhelmed by the sight the cave had offered her. Inside was large and magnificent and it wasn't even dark. It had sufficient light entering inside, causing for the little waves that entered the cave glimmer and Kara found it to be quite beautiful. If she only had her art materials, she would just sit here and paint all day without having to bother with anyone from the outside.

No, she's not a closed off kind of a person who just likes to keep to herself. She actually has a social life but one thing that she doesn't want is to be distracted while she's working on an article or her art unless the distraction was Eliza, her foster mother, or Alex, her older sister. They were the only distraction that Kara would welcome with open arms.

Even though they were only her foster family, she was already quite contented and beyond happy to have them after her parents died in a car crash. For Kara, everything was already, if not perfect then, close to perfect as it is... until her biological aunt came.

Her mood immediately turned sour and a frown slowly formed on her face when she remembered her aunt and how she had dragged her out of the Danvers' household with no room for her or her mother and sister to protest.

"Did you know frowning can cause you a whole lot of wrinkles?"

Kara jumped at the sound of the echoing voice and whirled her attention towards its owner. She was too engrossed on her thoughts that she didn't notice that there was another person inside the cave.

There stood a pale skinned brunette whose posture was oozing with confidence and had eyes as green as an emerald which Kara had found very enticing. Her hair was cascading down past her shoulders, her jaws had the right amount of sharpness, and her lips were painted red which was a perfect contrast to her skin. All in all, the woman that was standing not far from her was gorgeous. She could also see that she was a couple of inches taller than the mysterious brunette.

"Who are you?" Was the first thing that came out of her mouth.

"I could ask you the same thing." The woman husked out and it was the huskiest voice Kara has ever heard.

"Huh..." Kara huffed out as she looked- yes, she looked and definitely not stared- at the brunette. A mysterious woman inside a mysterious cave. Kara almost chuckled at the thought. Almost. She wouldn't want the other woman to think that she had somehow lost it.

The brunette just then raised her perfectly shaped brow silently as if waiting for Kara to answer her question and the blonde immediately focused her attention back on her original task.

"Oh, uhh... I'm Kara." Stammering, the blonde introduced herself. "I-I don't know why I'm here. I don't even know how I got here. They say that I needed therapy but, I don't need one!"

"Don't we all?" The brunette asked in amusement as the corner of her lips quirked up a bit.

"Nope." Kara vigorously shook her head. "Not me, I don't. Now those guys out there are chasing me and I need to get out of here as soon as possible."

"You want an out in this island?" The brunette asked again.

"Yes!" Kara exclaimed then she slowly gave the mysterious woman a sheepish look. "Can you- uhh... Can you help me?"

There was only silence as the brunette seemed to be looking behind Kara and after a few more seconds, she answered as she offered her hand to the blonde. "Of course. Come with me."

Kara stared at the extended hand towards her as she contemplated whether she would take the woman's hand or not, doubt settling at the back of her mind. Could she really trust this woman?

"Look..." The woman grabbed her hand and Kara found it to be incredibly soft. "It's either we move now or they'll find you here so just come with me."

Seemingly not having any other choice, Kara reluctantly nodded and the brunette tugged her to the opposite direction of the cave's entrance. It wasn't long until they had found the exit and the two hurried towards the end.

When they got out, the brunette immediately trudged her way up the cliff and the blonde stared at her with utter confusion as to what the mysterious woman was doing.

The brunette seemed to have noticed that Kara wasn't following anymore and asked, not bothering to stop climbing her way up. "Are you coming or not?"

A ticket for a way out of this island which happened to be this stunningly gorgeous woman? Of course, she is. It's not like she had any interest with a woman. Any woman to be exact, but there was something in this woman that had gotten her attention. The aura of mystery perhaps? She wasn't sure. Then she remembered where she was and she immediately snapped out of her thoughts.

"Right. Sorry. Spaced out for a bit." Kara said as she followed suit.

After a few agonizing minutes, they made it up to the top and Kara swore that she was definitely going to work out the moment she gets out of here instead of just lounging around their house and eating everything inside their fridge. Having an insanely fast metabolism isn't enough for one to be fit after all. She still wasn't able to catch her breath when the brunette started to pull her again. She has no idea where they were going anymore as she was gazing down on the ground and was too focused on catching her breath.

Then out of the blue, the woman whistled, though it wasn't that sharp of a whistle, it still startled Kara. "Lost something, boys?"

Kara stopped on her tracks as her blood ran cold. She knew that the brunette wasn't addressing her because that would be weird if the woman would address her as a boy, right? Right.

She slowly- or rather, reluctantly- lifted her head just to see another two attendants in front of them.

"Thank you, Miss Luthor." Wait, what? Luthor? Why does it sound familiar? Dang it, focus, Kara!

"We'll take it from here." One of them said as he took hold of Kara's arm.

Kara stared at the woman in utter disbelief with her mouth agape and the only thing that the woman gave her was a shrug with a hint of smirk playing on her lips. She was about to say something when the attendants already dragged her away and no matter what she did, she wasn't able to escape this time. All that's left that she could possibly do was to glare daggers at the brunette until she disappeared from her view.

"Hey." A short woman (well, not really that short. She was just quite tall, is all) greeted her as soon as she had been escorted in her would be room.

"Uhh... Hi?" She hesitantly greeted back.

"It seems like we'll be sharing a room. I saw them carrying a luggage in here a while ago. I presume it's yours?" The woman asked with a dimpled smile then extended her hand. "I'm Maggie, by the way. Maggie Sawyer."

"Probably." Kara answered with a shrug as she shook Maggie's hand. "I'm Kara Da- Zor-El. Kara Zor-El. I take it that you're here for the so-called therapy as well?"

Maggie didn't seem to mind Kara's sudden correction of her surname which Kara was thankful for. She just snorted as she shook her head in what seemed to be in amusement. "They call it therapy. I call it brainwashing."

"Brain...washing?" Kara's brow furrowed as she tilt her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing that you should worry about." Maggie waved her hand as if to dismiss Kara's question. "It's only called brainwashing if you let yourself to be brainwashed."

"You saying that it's nothing that I should worry about makes me worry." Kara all but grumbled, making the shorter woman laugh.

"So... what's your story?" Maggie asked as soon as her laugh died down. "I mean, why are you here? You seem... I don't know... normal and fine to me."

"I know!" Kara exclaimed. "That's what I have been trying to tell them the whole time. But after my adventure earlier this morning, they sent me to the person who's running this facility. Of course, I grabbed the opportunity to ask."

"Dang. No wonder why it took you long to get here and you got sent to Reign on your first day. How was it? What happened then?" Maggie prodded, her eyes wide with anticipation and Kara found it adorable.

"Well... she was tolerable. Tolerable than any of these goddamn attendants, that is. She answered my questions. It turns out that I was here because my aunt sent me here which isn't really a surprise." Kara gave Maggie a bitter smile and shrugged. "See, she wanted me to marry this certain man for so long and I was constantly turning him down every time he asked me to marry him. No courtship or whatsoever. Just straight to the marriage- which is really weird and creepy, by the way. He's some sort of a lord in his land-"

"Lord in his land?" Maggie asked in disbelief, interrupting the blonde. "Is that even still a thing?"

"Unfortunately." Kara rolled her eyes. "Anyway, my aunt thinks that it was a good opportunity- too good, if you ask her but definitely not for me- to pass up and I was crazy for turning down someone like him for some nobody hence, me being here explains it all. To somehow get my wits together and maybe, I would be able to see how perfect of a man he is and that I would finally let the " nobody" go."

Maggie shook her head, a smile already plastered on her lips with an incredulous look on her face. "That's just crazy. They can't dictate who you want and don't want to love."

Kara gave the short woman a shrug again. "You tell me."

Maggie chuckled and Kara smiled genuinely for the first time since she had woken up in the facility. The shorter woman wasn't like anyone she had encountered in the facility. In other words, she likes Maggie enough that she was thinking that they would definitely be very good friends if she happened to stay here longer than she intended.

"What about you?" The blonde asked out of curiosity. Since they were already in this subject, why not grab the opportunity to know more about the shorter woman with regards to this. "You also seem fine so, why are you here?"

Maggie pursed her lips and had been silent for a few seconds that Kara had assumed that the shorter woman would leave her question unanswered. Maybe it was a sensitive subject for Maggie? She was about to apologize when Maggie uttered softly.

"I was sent here, courtesy of my parents... because I'm gay."

It wasn't what Kara had expected. She doesn't exactly have any idea either as to what might the possible reason why Maggie was there. Sure she had couple of guesses and reasons as to why a person has to undergo a therapy but being gay wasn't definitely on her list.

"I hope you're not homophobic because if you are, I don't think we can be together in the same room." Maggie took the lack of response and the silence from Kara the wrong way and Kara internally kicked herself for making the shorter woman worry.

"What? No! No, I'm not homophobic." Kara immediately reassured the shorter woman. "As a matter of fact, my sister is also gay."

"Really?" Maggie asked with pure interest. "And was it okay with your parents?"

The blonde nodded in response.

"Wow..." Maggie breathed out, seemingly amazed. "Must be great to have such supportive parents."

"It sure does." Kara agreed. "No offense though... I think your parents are- excuse my language- shit for putting you in here."

Maggie raised her eyebrow and Kara swears that she could definitely see amusement dancing in Maggie's eyes. "None taken but, pray do tell why?"

"Because being gay isn't like a disease that needs to be treated." Kara answered without missing a beat. "We don't deserve to be here.

"Yeah? Well, tell that to our families."

"Touché."

The reason why they're here... The way how their family thinks... Both women just laughed at the absurdity of it all. It was beyond ridiculous but Kara was thankful that she found someone who's just the same as her. At least, she won't be alone in this godforsaken island.

Dinner came and each and everyone, including Kara and Maggie, were gathered in some sort of a garden. There, the tables had been set and all you just need to do is to choose where to sit and both women chose the one that's quite at the back. Not too far, but not really that close to the others.

"Don't they have a proper dining hall here?" Kara asked in confusion. Could this place get any more stranger than it already is?

Maggie snorted as she shook her head. "Apparently, they don't. I've been here for a few months already and I've never been, let alone seen, their cafeteria. I guess they don't really have one."

"How long have you been here exactly?" Kara couldn't help but ask the shorter woman as confusion settles within her again.

"Let's see..." Maggie paused as she started counting then nodded once. "Right around five months, three weeks, and two days."

"That long?"

"Unfortunately so."

"Good gracious." Kara couldn't really imagine being able to stay that long. Not when it was only just her first day and she's already itching to leave this facility.

After their conversation, it didn't take long for their dinner to arrive and to say that Kara was shocked to see what their dinner was would definitely be an understatement.

"What's this?" Kara grimaced as she looked at the strip of lettuce with a couple of tomatoes and a cup of milk that didn't even reach half of the cup in disgust.

"Dinner, Miss Zor-El." The attendant that served their food answered.

"You call this a dinner? Where's the rest of it?" Kara asked incredulously. "I doubt even vegetarians would be satisfied with this."

The attendant didn't seem to have paid any mind to Kara's comment. "Please. Enjoy your meal."

He then left, leaving both women alone for themselves again.

"Enjoy? Try serving this for yourselves and see if you can enjoy it. God, I hate those people." Kara grumbled under her breath but its volume was enough for Maggie to hear and the latter threw her head back laughing.

"Sure. Go ahead and laugh at my expense."

The shorter woman laughed even more and the blonde noticed that Maggie's burst of laughter was slowly gathering quite a bit of attention from the others and Kara can't help but to feel a bit conscious so she tried to shush Maggie. The shorter woman, however, wasn't able to stop laughing and Kara just sighed and just laughed as well on Maggie's antics.

Kara then looked at their surroundings to see if they were bothering anyone and as she was scanning the premises, she spotted a familiar emerald green eyes looking at them in amusement. She locked eyes with her. Kara, again, found herself enticed and she felt lost at the brunette's eyes for a moment then irritation overpowered the enticing feeling and she was slowly starting to feel irritated especially when she remembered what the brunette had done.

"Hey, Kara, are you listening?" It was only then that Kara tore her gaze away from the mysterious brunette when she heard Maggie's voice.

"Sorry." Kara immediately apologized. "I got distracted."

"Do you get so easily distracted?" Maggie asked in a playful manner.

"Wha- No! No, I don't. It's just that something happened when I woke up. Call it a fiasco, if you want. Then there's this beautiful woman who told me she could help me escape this island. I was desperate enough to trust her and I ended up back here because-" Kara stopped herself when she saw that Maggie was giving her a shit eating grin. "What?"

"You're a rambling mess." Maggie stated.

"Yeah... I tend to ramble quite a lot whenever I'm excited, tensed or nervous." Kara admitted sheepishly. "Anyway, mind if I ask something?"

"Fire away."

"Who's that?" Kara jerked her head towards the brunette's direction.

"Who?" Maggie asked, looking for the person whom Kara was pertaining to.

"The one with the green eyes and red lips."

Maggie seemed to have found the person in question and she whirled around far too quickly to look at the blonde that Kara was afraid that the shorter woman might have a whiplash or would unintentionally snap her neck. "You don't know her?!"

"Uhh... Should I?" This added to Kara's confusion. Sure the brunette's last name rings a bell but the woman herself wasn't familiar.

Maggie was looking at her like she had grown another head. "Wow... Have you been living under a rock that you don't know who Lena Luthor is?"

"Lena... Luthor?" Kara asked, getting more and more confused. Did she really have to know who that Lena Luthor was?

"It's not that you really have to know who she is but, just so you know, she's Lex Luthor's younger sister." Maggie informed the blonde, clearly hoping that Kara would be able to piece it all already.

"Wait..." Realization dawned on Kara's face. That's why the last name was familiar. "The notorious criminal who went crazy and had blown up one of National City's high rising company Lex Luthor?"

Maggie nodded, looking pleased that Kara was able to at least know who Lex was. "The one and only."

"That's her?" Kara asked incredulously. "Lex's infamous sister?"

"Ding, ding, ding." Maggie said in a singsong voice.

"Huh..." Kara huffed out. "Now that makes sense."

"What does?" Maggie queried.

"The last name." Kara answered and her gaze landed back on the subject of their topic and she saw herself looking back at the same emerald green orbs. Turns out that the brunette was already looking at her before Kara had even looked at Lena.

She suddenly felt conscious and tore her gaze away from the brunette.

"Excuse me. I'll just go to the comfort room." Maggie nodded as Kara excused herself and made her way towards the comfort room.

When she got into the said room, she went for the sink and washed her hands as she looked at herself in the mirror. With everything that has happened, she definitely didn't have the time to sit and fix herself. Not when after she had just taken a bath, she and Maggie were both whisked away for dinner.

"I look like shit." The blonde muttered and sighed.

"Such language from a pretty woman."

Kara's breath hitched in her throat and her heart skipped a beat when she heard the familiar husky voice. She doesn't know why that was her initial reaction but maybe it was just from the shock. She thought she was alone and heard no one enter after all. Right, that must be the reason why... or that's what she believed. She then slowly turned around to see the brunette, that she now had come to know the name which was Lena, standing on the doorway. Kara almost forgot how beautiful the brunette was up close and her beauty also almost made Kara forget what she did earlier that morning. But, that was just it...

Almost.

"What do you want?" Kara asked, irritation lacing her voice.

Lena looked like she was unperturbed with Kara's tone. It somehow even made her more amused, adding fuel to the fire that just so happened to be the blonde's irritation. "Whoa there, hot head. Still mad about this morning?"

Kara glared at Lena. "You think?!"

This only made the brunette laugh as she made her way towards the blonde, stopping just a few feet away from Kara's reach. "So you are still mad."

"Mad?" Kara asked again, trying to keep her voice from rising. The last thing that she would want is to gain attention from the attendants outside and she definitely doesn't want to deal with them right now. "Try infuriated and beyond pissed. I trusted you!"

"I know, I know." Lena raised her hands in surrender. "That's why I'm here. To apologize."

Kara rolled her eyes. "Well, apology most definitely not accepted so excuse me, you're blocking the way. I'm getting out of here."

The blonde brushed past the brunette but then Lena held Kara's arm firmly but not that tight. Just enough to stop the blonde from walking out. "Look, they would still find you either way so it was either I turn you over to them or I'll risk having them find our cave and I can't have them find our spot so I have to resort to the former."

"Our cave?" Kara raised her brow at Lena's choice of words.

"Of course, darling. Our cave. Both you and I are the only people who knows about that cave." Lena explained. "And before you ask how I would know, it's because I've been there as often as I could and I've never seen anyone coming there, let alone going in that direction... until you. Consider it as a safe haven from these bastards."

Kara slightly shook her head. "As much as I want to, I don't think I can trust you ever again. Not after what you did."

"That's understandable." Lena let out a humorless laugh. "It's not like I'm not used to people not trusting me. After all, I am a Luthor."

Kara shook her head. "I really couldn't care any less about which family you came from. This is about what you did."

"Then let me make it up to you."

"What do you mean?" The blonde's brows furrowed.

"I really do know a way out of here. But, in some odd reason, I can't seem to pull it off." Lena uttered softly like she was afraid that someone might hear her.

"Y-you... You do?" Hearing that there was really a way out of the island, hope was ignited within Kara but then it was immediately snuffed out when it was the very same reason why she was dragged back in the facility by the very same woman that was standing right in front of her with the very same promise she had made.

The blonde then took Lena's hand off her arm. "You're just messing with me."

Lena heaved a sigh. "I'm not. I'll prove to you that everything I'm saying is true."

"And how would you do that?"

Lena's emerald green eyes gazed right into her sapphire blue ones and Kara swore that she could feel the intensity of the brunette's gaze. "Meet me at midnight. Same place where we met. Don't let anyone see or catch you sneaking out. Can you do that?"

Before Kara could stop herself, she was already nodding her head as a response. Wait, what?

"Also... please don't believe anything they say about me." Lena's voice was small and it stirred something inside Kara. "I don't even talk to my mother or my brother even before all of this anymore."

"Don't worry... I won't." She didn't know why but she felt the need to reassure the brunette. "I believe everyone should be judged by their own merits."

"Thank you." Lena then gave Kara a small smile then slowly leaned in close to the blonde's ear and whispered, giving goosebumps and sending chills down Kara's spine as Lena's warm breath had hit her skin, the brunette's musky scent- which reminded Kara of vanilla or more like marshmallows- invading her senses. "See you there."

The brunette cupped one of Kara's cheeks and gave a tender kiss her on the other side before turning around to leave but before Lena could even open the door, Kara stopped her.

"Wait!"

Lena paused in her tracks and turned around to face the blonde.

"How do you know?" Kara asked, quite hesitant. "I- uhh... I mean, about how to escape this place."

"You know, Kara," Lena smiled and made her way towards the blonde again, reaching for the sapphire gem necklace that Kara was wearing. She ran her thumb shortly on the said gem before letting go of it. "If you want something, there is always a way to get what you want..."

She then tapped the blonde below her chin with her forefinger and whispered. "... Always."

Lena once again turned on her heels and this time, she left a dumbfounded and tomato looking Kara alone.

Kara's heart was beating erratically and she was breathing fast like she had just finished a marathon. She couldn't explain what was currently happening to her but she was sure that Lena was the reason why.

"What the heck just happened?" Kara's question was more like directed to herself as her hand hovered her cheek where Lena's lips landed just a few minutes ago.

She turned towards the sink again and splashed some water on her heated face in hopes of cooling it down. After she had gathered her wits and had let herself cool down, she headed back to their table where Maggie was waiting.

"Oh, there you are." Maggie said after she finished her drink and placed her cup down. "What took you so long?"

"Umm... Call of nature?" Kara lied and Maggie gave her a look that she couldn't quite tell and it made the blonde queasy so she took her own cup and drank its contents just so that her attention will be focused elsewhere until Maggie asked her something that made her choke and almost spit her drink.

"You do know that being a detective is my profession, right?"

The shorter woman then rubbed a coughing Kara's back as she chuckled. "Oops... I guess I forgot to mention that one."

"Yeah..." Kara said as she had managed to stop her coughing fit. "You sure did."

"It honestly is fine if you won't tell me though. I totally respect that."

Kara felt bad for lying at the shorter woman. She had been the only person that she had ever had a proper conversation with and one of the people that even bothered to talk to her after all. Well, Kara doesn't really like to lie in general. It nags on her conscience and she doesn't like that feeling. No one deserves to be lied to and that's what she strongly believes as a journalist or even just as a person.

"Sorry..." Kara mumbled softly.

Maggie slightly cocked her head to the side. "What for?"

"For lying."

The shorter woman snorted. "Nah, it's fine. Everyone is entitled to have their own secrets."

"I don't like secrets though." Kara played at the hem of her shirt, still mumbling softly that was only enough for Maggie to hear. "I lied because I was with Lena."

Maggie raised her brow at this and she gave Kara a look of disbelief. "You're with the Luthor even after what her family has done?"

"See? That's the reason why I even bothered lying." Kara huffed in exasperation. "You're a detective, Maggie. You, of all people, should know that one shouldn't judge someone without proper investigation. I mean, have you even really talked to her? Because if you haven't, you clearly should."

Maggie silently shook her head and was rendered silent at everything Kara had said. The blonde on the other hand didn't know where her overprotectiveness for the brunette came from. She didn't really expect to be defending Lena after what the brunette had done to her. Then, at the back of her mind, she thought that Lena had the audacity to apologize so it counts, right? Bad people don't know what an apology is so Lena isn't one of them.

"Miss Zor-El. Miss Sawyer." An attendant called out for their attention. "It's time for bed. Please head to your respective room."

"What are we, twelve?" Kara mumbled under her breath as she rolled her eyes. She then stood up and curtsied mockingly at the attendant. "Yes, your majesty."

Maggie covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she tried to stifle her laughter at Kara's antics and before she knew it, Kara was already dragging her towards their room.

When they had reached their room, Kara immediately slumped on her bed unceremoniously. The day took its toll on her and she was getting really sleepy. Maggie seemed to be turning in as well because she already turned the lights off.

"Sorry for earlier." She heard Maggie mumble sleepily. "You were right... in all accounts."

"It's fine. Don't worry." Kara mumbled in the same manner.

"Are we good?"

"Mhm."

"That's a relief." Kara heard Maggie sigh and it made her chuckle. "Good night, Kara."

"Good night, Mags." Kara told Maggie back and she had let herself be lulled to sleep, completely forgetting about her discussion- which was kind of an agreement, really- earlier with a certain green eyed brunette.

#kara danvers #lena luthor #maggie sawyer #kara #lena #maggie #supercorp #light angst #light humor #light fluff #everything light #'cause idk wtf i'm doing anymore

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itsallavengers · 5 years

Note

gee i don't want to bother you you can 100% ignore me but it's been a shitty week panic attacks are stronger than ever and some of my friends keep making fun of my anxiety (i downplay the whole thing so it's not really their fault) could you please give me some light hearted stevetony with italian!tony? ily so much youre a blessing for this world keep being yourself

Steve was going to be honest here: he didn’t like the sun.

Bucky and Natasha would kill him for slandering the current Mediterranean summer weather like that, but it was true. He was an Irishman. His skin was pale and unused to anything above mild temperatures. Not to mention the fact that it was just damn uncomfortable to sit and sweat with no way to cool down all day. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come on this holiday with his two friends at all, actually. He didn’t like the sun, he didn’t really have the money for it, and he was currently acting as the third wheel to what could have just been Bucky & Natasha’s romantic getaway. But Bucky had asked, and said that Steve needed to take a bit of time off, so here he was.

Sweating.

It wasn’t so bad, though. While Nat was off looking around in a little local museum and Bucky was trying to sleep off the hangover from last night, Steve was sitting in a quiet cafe, reading his book and sipping on a latte. He was in the shade to prevent burning, and it was early enough in the morning that the heat wasn’t unbearable. It was actually quite nice.

There was also an incredibly beautiful young man sitting on a table a few feet to his right, nibbling a sandwich and working in a scruffy-looking notebook while he shot Steve occasional furtive glances. That was very nice too.

He looked to be in his early twenties, and clearly native to the town. They hadn’t picked a touristy spot, which was good for the culture, but bad when it came to the language barrier. And the man didn’t sport any of the typical touristy items; instead lounging around in a breezy white cotton shirt with a few buttons undone, tucked into a pair of form-fitting navy slacks and then ending with some expensive-looking loafers. Atop the dark mess of curls were some aviators, and he wore a black ring on his forefinger that contrasted wonderfully against the olive of his skin. The way he held onto his pen made his fingers flex, and occasionally he would run it over his bottom lip in thought, suck it in, frown for a second before he wrote something else down.

Yes, Steve may have been staring for a long time now. But in his defence, the man was stunning. Steve could admit he was more than a little enthralled.

He checked his watch briefly, wondering at what point this was going to get weird and he would have to either approach the other man or leave. He could order another coffee, he supposed-- but too much caffeine gave him a headache. Maybe the man was a regular here. Steve might get to see him tomorrow, maybe smile at him or something.

“hai intenzione di stare lì a fissarmi tutto il giorno o vuoi venire qui?”

Steve blinked, watching the man as he pulled the pen from his mouth and then leaned his head backward, apparently speaking to no one in particular. But then his neck rolled, and he looked Steve right in the eye, his mouth curling into a gorgeously cheeky smile. “I take it you do not speak Italian then?”

Oh. Oh, he was talking to Steve. Fuck. Okay. He spluttered a little and then sat up, resisting the urge to push his hair back or smooth out his shirt. He was calm, he was suave. “I...no,” he stumbled, shaking his head, “was that... sorry, were you talking to me?”

The man nodded, slipping sideways on his chair and then leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees and his hands were clasped in front of him. He was slim, but muscular. Steve could see the way his shirt smoothed over strong arms as he hunched. And now he was face on, Steve could truly get a feel for what the man looked like. Sharp jaw. Hair that fell artistically over his perfectly-proportioned face. The most beautiful hazel eyes Steve had ever goddamn seen.

“I said, are you going to sit there and stare all day or are you planning on coming over?”

Steve realised he was being spoken to only a second after he’d stopped watching the way the man’s mouth formed the words, his accent thick, but his English perfect. Steve should probably respond to that, shouldn’t he. “Well, if it’s all the same with you,” he began, before cracking a smile and then standing up. In a few strides, he was at the man’s table, slipping into the seat opposite. He was in the sun here, but he figured that he could make the sacrifice, just this once.

There was a second of silence, and then the man turned to face him again. His eyes were alight, shining in the sunlight and mingled with intrigue. “Was that an Irish accent I heard just then?” He asked, and God, even his voice was beautiful. Steve had never thought voices could be beautiful until today.

He nodded. “It was. Born and raised there ‘til my mam moved us over to America. We don’t fare quite as well in this sun as you though. Hence the shade I was in.”

“Oh. We can move?” The man waved his hand backward, but Steve was quick to shake his head, simply smiling in reassurance.

“It’s fine. I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Ah. I’m Tony.” He smiled and leaned his head into his hands, looking across the table at Steve with that fiery smile of his. His fingers traced idly over his notepad as he eyed Steve, and the writings he’d done were absolutely foreign- not even because they were written in a different language, but because they were all just complex-looking equations and diagrams and things Steve couldn’t even name. He didn’t dwell on them though. There were much more interesting things to be looking at just then.

Leaning back in his chair and throwing an arm casually across the backrest-- and no, not to flex his muscles like Bucky tried to say whenever he did that-- he let his eyes walk slowly up and down Tony’s body, before stopping for a second at his mouth. The pen was back again. A brief thought crossed his mind, and he swallowed it down hastily. That was most definitely not appropriate for the first conversation.

But Tony looked like he knew exactly what Steve was thinking anyway, because the smile widened and he took the pen back out from between his teeth again, spinning it in those agile fingers of his. “So tell me- what is an Irishman who doesn’t like the sun doing in Italy right now?” He asked, one eyebrow rising curiously.

Steve explained the situation easily, talking of Bucky and Nat, the vacation they’d all planned, Steve’s need for a little break. In turn, Tony explained how he’d ended up here, him having come from America too, but much longer ago, back when he was a child and his parents had divorced. He talked emphatically and used his hands when he spoke, and Steve found himself hanging on to every word, Tony managing to make everyday events seem like film-plots. Their conversation came easily, like one would with a long-time friend, and soon Steve realised that a whole hour had passed since he and Tony had begun talking. He blinked in surprise at his watch and then felt the back of his neck. “God, I’m gonna burn,” he muttered to himself, popping his collar up.

Tony pulled a face, clearly unimpressed by the weakness of his pale skin, but then it turned into a smile as he jumped from his seat and grabbed for Steve’s hand, tugging him upward. “I know how to cool you down,” he said enthusiastically, and Steve found himself being pulled into standing and guided out of the cafe. “How much time do you have?”

Well, Natasha wanted him to join her in the museum about ten minutes ago, so-- “no plans for the day,” he said easily, letting Tony guide them through the winding streets, their bodies brushing and their hands linked together while they navigated the people and market-stalls. Tony greeted locals as he passed them by, the Italian words rolling off his tongue easily. Steve hung on to every word he said, not knowing what he meant, but willing to listen to Tony talking like that for the rest of the goddamn day if he wanted to. It was like music.

Eventually, Steve realised Tony was leading them to the coastline, and he frowned. “I haven’t bought any swim-trunks with me,” he said warily, but Tony just laughed, turning around and walking backwards while he looked up at Steve.

“Just wear your boxers, they’ll dry off quickly once you get out!”

“I... I don’t--” but Tony was already leading them down a rickety set of wooden steps, winding down the cliff edge. It was a secluded place, and when they reached the bottom, Steve looked around in awe at the beautiful cove he’d been brought to. There was a small outcrop which slid off straight into the sea, and a few feet onward, a dusting of sand covered by the shade of a tree.

Tony beamed at him. “I come here to do work sometimes. Come, come. The water is lovely.” Without a moment of hesitation, he toed off his loafers and then skidded over the outcrop, where he then started to untuck his shirt from his pants. Steve could only watch, somewhat shocked at the man’s lack of embarrassment, as Tony quickly stripped down into his underwear, finally ending with chucking his sunglasses on top of the messy pile of his clothes. His eyes shone with knowing amusement as he looked over his shoulder at Steve. “My eyes are up here,” he commented, and in mortification, Steve hurriedly dragged his gaze away from Tony’s ass.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t--” but Tony had already turned back around, stepping off the outcrop and then splashing into the water, being submerged immediately. He came up a second later with a gasp, slicking his curls out of his face with one hand while the other clamped around the outcrop. He swam closer to Steve, who was still stood at the sidelines, a little bamboozled by the recent events.

“You joining me?” Tony asked, his arms folding on the rocks as he cocked his head at Steve. “I might need-- ah, come se dice.... a water-guard?”

“Lifeguard,” Steve said with a small grin, remembering the conversation he’d had earlier about his part-time job as a pool lifeguard when he’d been a kid in order to afford his first ever car. “And you seem to be doing okay right now.”

Tony hummed, and then very dramatically began to flail around, head dipping under the water. “Oh no!” He declared, “my legs have suddenly stopped working! If only I had someone trained to handle a situation like this to come in and save me!” He sunk below the water again, and Steve rolled his eyes and just tried not to laugh as his hands went to his shirt.

If Tony didn’t seem to think this was strange, then neither did Steve.

Once he was down to his boxer briefs, he slid in a little more calmly than Tony had done, bracing himself against the rocks and looking at the other man. Water clung to his skin, making crystal trails, pooling at the dip in his collar-bones. His hair was slicked back, but a piece had fallen into his eyes, and he tucked it behind his ear as he tread the water a few feet away.

He was right though. It really was lovely and cool.

Steve smiled, sinking under the surface for a moment in order to wet his hair. He could just about touch the surface, but Tony was considerably smaller than him, so he would have to stick to treading the water. Steve came back up with a gasp and then found himself laughing. “This is not how I imagined my day to go,” he admitted, watching Tony’s face soften.

Then, slowly, he swam forward, cutting through the water and then settling a hand on Steve’s shoulder softly. It slipped across the damp skin, and Tony watched his own fingers as they trailed across Steve’s pale shoulders. “Me neither,” Tony admitted softly, glancing up at Steve through his thick lashes, “but I’m not going to complain. I met a very hot man and got him out of his clothes in under two hours.”

That made Steve laugh. Never in a million years would he have done this back in America. Not like he even could, really. The Hudson hardly counted as a romantic spot for a swim with the person you’d only met once. But everyone said Europeans were very free-spirited. And from what Steve could see, and, uh, feel, that certainly seemed the case. Tony swam a little closer, his other hand finding Steve’s neck, winding around the side of it delicately and pulling himself in until they were chest to chest. Steve curled his own hand around the other man’s waist, taking a small breath. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been quite as affected by someone as he was with Tony. Not in his whole life.

“I want to kiss you,” Tony said, his words lilted with the accent, his skin glittering in the sunlight, and it was so damn strange for Steve to think of the fact that Tony had almost grown up in New York as the heir to a huge business like he’d spoken of earlier, all slick and hard-lined and American. This just seemed like it was where Tony belonged, far more than that life ever would be.

Steve smiled, their noses touching. His hand rose from the water, the sound tinkling melodically, and he gently took Tony’s chin in his hand, tilting it up a little more. “I want to kiss you too,” he admitted, “I want to do a lot of things, actually.”

“Hmm?” Tony’s voice was low, warm, suggestive. “You said you have no plans. I don’t either.” He dipped forward, giving Steve the barest brush of lips before pulling away a fraction again.”You can do whatever you want, tesoro.”

Wow. Those words went straight down south, and Steve swallowed, before dipping down and closing the gap between them hastily. The water swirled around them, Tony draping himself onto Steve as they embraced, and vaguely he realised that this wasn’t a private cove and anyone could walk by if they wanted, but it was still difficult to keep his actions even remotely clean when he had a pretty much naked and willing and wet Tony in his arms, sucking on his bottom lip while his hands worked over Steve’s arms. He tasted like coffee and smelled like apples, and his mouth was a devil, licking into him, nipping and sucking and making little noises when Steve touched him in the right places. It was slow, easy, relaxed. The sun shone through the clear blue sky, lighting up Tony’s face as he leaned back against the rock and shut his eyes happily. Steve wanted to work him over. Wanted to find out what his favourite colour was and how he looked spread out on a bed. Just seeing him like this was driving Steve a little mad. God only knew what would happen when they got home.

He was going to have to do a lot of apologising to Bucky and Nat tonight, because he didn’t think they were going to be seeing anything of him for the rest of the day.

Or the vacation.

ao3 / donate to my kofi

#itsallavengers writes #im sorry uve had a rough week i love u and i hope! this helped a lil #thotty italian tony helps everyone man #stevetony #Anonymous

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

Text

Marked (Part 24)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: ~4700

Warnings: Good ol’ fashioned missionary sex, heh. Discussion of some of the same issues that have come up so far in this series.

A/N: Thanks to @stunudo, @dean-winchesters-bacon, and @fookinghelljensensthighs for checking this out in its early stages. Also thanks to everybody who has been so kind to this series; @dawnie1988, @the-chocolate-moose, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @covered-byroses... you all are so wonderful.

This is the last “real” chapter of Marked, although there’s an epilogue coming soon and at least two codas planned already. I love these two fuckwits and I’m not ready to say goodbye to them quite yet.

This references several other chapters, most notably Part 1 and Part 12. If you want to refresh your memory or catch up, the masterpost is HERE.

The split lip from the barfight was the last visible reminder of Dean. It faded within a couple days. I stared blankly at my face in the mirror, when it was gone. I felt like I should have scars everywhere, thick and knotted, visibly holding me together.

I kept busy. I dusted my little house. I bought a punching bag and set it up in the living room. I got my old job back.

This is healthy, I told myself. This is normal. You’re doing the smart thing.

I pulled up outside the roadhouse for my first shift in what felt like a lifetime, and then I sat there, frozen, with my hands on the steering wheel, suddenly paralyzed as I remembered the way he’d looked at me that first night, leaning over the bar and tossing back whiskey like it was water.

I’d gone with him, that night, even though I knew how badly it might end. I knew he might hurt me. I let him strip me down, mark me as his own, fuck me and fuck me up until I was bruised and aching. This thing between us had been dark and messy and twisted from the beginning. It had always been painful.

This is the right choice.

I took a deep breath, pulled down the mirror, checked my makeup. I stared at my reflection. I looked fine: pale, drab, washed-out, but fine. I couldn’t move.

I didn’t want fine. I wanted jade eyes and ruby scratches across my back. I wanted pink-flushed skin under blistering hot water. I wanted freckles under my tongue and scar tissue under my fingertips. I wanted Dean.

Painful, dark, twisted, messy… but it was ours, and it was honest, and we fit together. I loved him, broken pieces and all. My world was brighter, more vivid, more colorful with him in it. He was worth every moment of pain.

Besides, I’ve always enjoyed a little pain with my pleasure.

This is the smart thing to do.

I drove out of the parking lot so fast that gravel went flying.

I never said I was a smart woman.

———

The motel smelled the same. It hit me, when I walked in the door, and I had to stop and blink away the fog of memories for a moment. If I closed my eyes, I could almost taste him.

I’d told him 8:00. I had ten minutes.

At 7:56, I stripped down and knelt at the foot of the bed, ignoring the nasty rough carpet and the chill down my spine.

8:03.

Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he’d decided it was easier to stay apart; maybe I was about to humiliate myself.

I folded my hands in my lap and breathed: in and out.

8:05.

Maybe the front desk mixed up the rooms, gave him the wrong key.

In. Out.

8:07.

I started shaking when I heard him at the door. I closed my eyes and waited.

The door swung open and then closed again. I heard a barely-there gasp and then nothing, just shocked silence and my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

In, out.

I looked up at him. He was frozen, standing there staring at me open-mouthed, eyes wide and wild. He looked like he had just skidded to a halt at the edge of a cliff: poised on tiptoes, velocity still propelling him forward.

He took one halting step, then another. I swallowed around the painful lump in my throat, my eyes locked with his as he crossed the last few feet between us with big rushed strides, and he fell to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut in a hunched, curled-in version of my own pose.

We knelt, face to face, in silence. He slumped to the side, slowly, tilting his head against the bed as if he was too tired to support himself.

My mind was blank. I’d completely forgotten the speech I’d planned. All I could think about was how goddamn beautiful he was; I looked at his lips as they parted around quick panicky breaths, and I looked at his freckles, and I clenched my hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

“What is this?” he asked, voice catching on the words.

My heartbeat was getting louder, thundering in my ears.

“I wanted to show you,” I whispered. “That… I’m yours. I’m all yours, and I have been since the night we met.”

Dean drew in a ragged breath. His eyes were darting back and forth, searching for something. Solid ground, maybe. There was nothing but open air beneath our feet.

“But what about - everything? What you said?”

There were so many things I wanted to say, but I was drowning in the sparkling green-gold of his eyes.

“Can you just kiss me, first?” I said hoarsely. A shadow of a smile flickered over his features.

He leaned in close, cradling my face in his hands, stroking my temples with his thumbs tenderly, and I met him in the middle for a kiss that was so much gentler than it should’ve been for all the raw passion behind it.

We were both holding back; Dean’s hands were trembling, and I could feel the way he wanted to suck and bite and swallow me whole but instead he brushed his lips over mine chastely, again and again, taking tiny delicate tastes of my mouth. My entire body was vibrating with the barely-controlled urge to feel him all over me, and my skin felt too hot and too tight and I could barely fucking breathe, but I just curled my fingers around his wrists, holding his hands in place where they cupped my cheeks, and tried to remember which way was up.

He let out a shaky little sigh and pulled away, just an inch at first, enough to nudge the tip of my nose with his, and then the rest of the way, slow, stretching the space between us like taffy. I released him reluctantly.

“I’ve got some shit I need to deal with,” I stammered, starting somewhere in the middle of my well-planned speech, all jumbled up and almost choking on the words, “and you’re all sorts of fucked up -”

He let out a strangled laugh, and his hands twitched on his thighs like he wanted to reach out and lace our fingers together.

“- but somebody told me once that it’s not a destination,” I barreled on, determined to get the words out. “Healing, I mean. You don’t just wake up better one day, it’s all about the steps. And I want to take those steps with you.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and bit his lip so hard I could see the skin around his teeth going bloodless white.

“What if I hurt you?”

I shrugged, smiling around the lump in my throat. “You did. But… I’m still here, right?”

“That’s not what -”

“I’m still here, Dean. Broken pieces and all. And I’m sure you’ll hurt me again, and I’ll hurt you, because as far as I can fucking tell, that’s what love is; it’s showing someone your weak spots and handing them a knife and inviting them to cut you open. But we’re tough fuckers. We’ll live. It happens.”

He was studying me, lips slightly parted, forehead creased like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“You’re serious,” he said, with a stunned little laugh. “You’re saying -”

He hesitated, mouth working soundlessly, and then scowled like he did when he was trying not to cry.

“You sure?” he asked hoarsely. I remembered the first time he’d asked me that question, and I smiled.

“Yes.”

He glared at a point somewhere over my shoulder.

“I’m going to hurt you again,” he said, and I could hear the panicky edge in the words. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

I almost laughed, the memory so visceral I could feel the phantom ache of his fingers on my thighs.

“Do you remember what I said? The first night, when you said… ‘if I hurt you.’”

“You said… Please hurt me,” he said raggedly. “But -”

“Dean. I gave up control that night, just like this, and… I’m starting to realize, I was never going to get it back,” I interrupted, twisting my hands in my lap as the words started to spill out all at once. “I was kidding myself, thinking I could. When it comes to you… when it comes to us? It’s not gonna be easy, but we could work on ourselves for a fucking century and it wouldn’t be easy, so let’s fucking work on it together. I know it’ll hurt and I’ll never have any sort of control and… and you’re worth the risk. I trust you, to take that risk with me. I trusted you the night I met you, for fuck’s sake, I stripped down and I asked you to hurt me and I knew that you were worth the risk, and I don’t regret it for a fucking second, and even after everything…”

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, shivering, trying to slow down. Everything I wanted to say was flooding out all at once.

“Breathe,” he said softly, and his hands settled at my waist, firm but gentle, grounding me.

In. Out.

He tugged me closer, until I was straddling him, and shifted so that he was sitting with his back against the foot of the bed. I slipped my arms around his neck and leaned in, resting my forehead against his for a moment, steadying myself.

In. Out.

My vision had gone all foggy and strange. When I blinked away stinging-hot tears and forced the world back into focus, he was starting to smile, slowly, hope sparkling in his eyes like the sun coming out from behind a cloud after a storm.

“I know exactly who you are,” I whispered fiercely. “I know that you suck at talking about your feelings and I know how bad things could go. I’ve seen all that shit you’d rather keep hidden. And I still think you’re worth the risk, so. Here I am. I’m all yours. I love you. I love you, dumbass, okay? I’m right here. Let’s do this.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. Breathe.”

I was lightheaded, so desperately, wildly, stupidly in love with him that there was no room left in my chest for something as trivial as oxygen.

“In and out,” Dean repeated. He wrapped his arms around me, one palm warm on my lower back, the other pressing between my shoulderblades.

“Okay?” I echoed, nudging my nose against his.

“Yeah. Okay. I love you too, and... I’m in,” he murmured, and chuckled softly. “I’m scared shitless, but I’m in.”

I let out a hiccuping hitch of a breath and then a slow, shuddery sigh. I wiped tears from Dean’s cheeks, brushing my fingers over his freckles and then down to trace the shape of his mouth. His kiss tasted like salt and felt like a promise.

“Bed?” he whispered. I sniffed and nodded, unfolding my stiff knees and crawling up to get under the coverlet.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I mumbled, as Dean kicked his shoes off. He shot me an oddly shy grin as he unbuttoned his shirt; I could see his fingers shaking. He was moving slow and deliberate, like he had to think carefully about every step, and I was freezing the moment in my mind, savoring the sight of every inch of skin even as my pulse hammered crazily in my ears and my fingers itched to touch. He fumbled nervously with his belt and almost tripped stepping out of his jeans, and we were both giggling, high and wobbly, as he finally lifted the comforter and got between the sheets with me.

I turned on my side, facing him. He slid in close, hooking an ankle over my legs, fingers brushing my hair back before his hand settled on the side of my neck, and I slipped an arm around his waist. My giggle died in my throat as we stared at each other without saying a word.

His eyelashes were dark and spiky-wet, but the tear tracks down his cheeks were already drying. The bedside lamp gave him a little halo of gold. He was smiling, and he was mine, and he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, broken pieces and all.

I squirmed closer, inching in until I could kiss the corner of his smile, then the Cupid’s bow of his upper lip and the lush curve of his lower lip. I kissed the tip of his nose, then the bridge of it, and I kissed his freckles, running my mouth over them slowly before I pressed my lips to his temple and his cheekbone and his jaw.

When I slid on top of him, rolling him onto his back, he looked up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, a slight wrinkle creasing his forehead, and trailed gentle fingers down the side of my face, reverent.

I ducked down, nosing at the stubble on the underside of his jaw and then dragging my lips down the side of his neck, peppering quick kisses along his collarbone and mouthing at the round of his shoulder. I traced the edge of the anti-possession symbol with my tongue and shifted back, inching down his body until I could press my ear to his chest, right over the steady thump-thump of his heart. I rested there, listening, as I swept my fingers down his ribs, down his hip, swirling my fingertips in little circles. He ran his fingers through my hair slowly.

I kissed my way down his body, inch by inch, the dip of his belly button and the jut of his hipbone. I licked down the crease of his hip, then up the flushed length of his cock, slow, taking my time; I could feel the pulse of a vein running under my tongue, could taste bitter salt at the head, could smell him all around me.

His hand cupped my cheek gently and I turned, nuzzling into the touch, and then kissed his palm before looking up at him. He was watching me with something like wonder in his eyes, his face shining with the breathtaking softness that made him such a walking study in contrasts.

When he looked at me like that, it was fucking impossible not to kiss him; I crawled up with my eyes locked helplessly on his, hypnotized, until I could press my mouth to his again, licking between his lips and losing myself in the taste of him.

I didn’t want to stop kissing him, once I’d started again. He tangled one hand in my hair, flattened the other against my lower back, and he held me close with a barely-restrained urgency, muscles trembling behind a gentle, tender touch. We kissed syrupy-slow, deep and breathless and bruising, until my mouth was swollen and my skin was on fire with it.

He rolled us over without warning, flipping me on my back and looking down at me with wild-eyed desperation as we both panted, trying to catch our breath.

He kissed my neck with those puffed-red velvet-soft lips, dragging his teeth down gently until he could caress my collarbone with his mouth. It was such a careful touch; he wasn’t biting, wasn’t sucking, wasn’t leaving stinging overheated skin in his wake, but I still felt the intensity of it like a thousand volts as he kissed the hollow of my throat and the flat of my breastbone.

He palmed my breast, calluses dragging at pebbled skin, and followed the rough dry touch with the slick soft warmth of his mouth, swirling his tongue. Heat blossomed low and deep in my belly. I ran my fingers through his hair and then down, stroking his freckled shoulders. His teeth scraped with just enough pressure to make me hiss before he soothed with his tongue and sucked gently, and then he did it again, alternating rough-soft-rough-soft. By the time he switched sides, my nipple was taut and aching. He just repeated the process patiently, tongue and teeth and lips working me over until I was whimpering and squirming under his touch.

I could feel the heavy panting breaths from his open mouth as it grazed my skin. He kissed my freckles and my scars, nuzzled the soft give of my stomach, and when he finally slid down between my legs, he mouthed my inner thigh and brushed his lips delicately over my stretch marks before finally, finally, flattening his tongue over my clit and giving a long, slow, luscious lick. We both moaned in unison, and then he was opening me up with two fingers and tasting, teasing with sloppy open-mouthed kisses, stroking me with his tongue and humming like I was his dessert.

Until Dean, I’d never really realized how intimate this could be, how vulnerable, how gut-wrenchingly sweet. It felt like he was fucking worshipping me with his mouth.

It wasn’t just that he knew how to touch me. It was the sounds he made, wet obscene noises like he was taking a slurping bite from a juicy overripe peach. It was the way he buried his face between my legs unabashedly, not just licking but leaning into me with his lips and cheeks and nose and chin, his stubble harsh on the insides of my thighs and his groans muffled against my slick skin. It was the way his entire body seemed to press into the swirl of his tongue, muscles rolling under the pale skin of his shoulders and his back, down to where his hips were rocking into the mattress like he couldn’t help himself.

I twined my fingers in his hair and let my head fall back as my spine bowed up, my hips tilting and twisting to follow the movements of his mouth. I hooked one leg over his shoulder, my heel digging into his back and shoving him closer as my thighs started to shake. He sucked hard, lips sealing around my clit and making me groan, low and broken, as sparks of heat swept through me.

“Slow - slow down, I -”

He didn’t. He didn’t slow down, didn’t give me a chance to pull back, just did something incredible with his mouth as he curled his fingers into me, and the shimmery pleasure of it rippled up and left me shuddering. He made this desperate overwhelmed noise that I could feel vibrating against my clit, and all those sparks of heat pulsed brightly, flared, swelled hotter and higher until there was nowhere left to go.

I just gasped as I came, dizzy and whimpering, riding the crest of it for what seemed like a long, long time. Dean was drawing it out, twisting his fingers into me gently, massaging my clit with his tongue, leaving me helpless, and I let it crash through me and carry me along until the waves started to recede.

“Gorgeous,” Dean rasped, smearing an open-mouthed kiss up my hip as he crawled up my body, something about the slinking set of his shoulders turning it into a cat-like prowl. I slid my hands around his neck as soon as I could reach him, pulling him down into a deep, greedy kiss.

My pulse was kicking up in a wild jig. My entire body was lit up with the feel of his skin on mine, with elation, with absolute terror and incandescent joy all at once.

His hips slotted in solidly between my sprawled-open legs and he pressed down, grinding against me, hard and hot in the crease of my thigh. His head dropped and he buried his face in my neck, letting out a sigh. I could feel his long lashes fluttering against my sticky skin. His hair was damp with sweat at the temples when I ran my fingers through it, scritch-scratching at his favorite spot behind his ear. He practically purred at the touch before licking his way up my jaw.

“Can I…?” he whispered, voice wobbly, lips pressed right up against my ear.

“Please,” I breathed, and again: “Please, please, Dean, just - yeah.”

He shifted slightly, reaching down between us, and I could feel the way he was shaking. He dragged the head of his cock down against where I was soaked and spread-open for him and he cursed, going still, shoulders heaving with a deep breath as he nudged against my slippery-wet center.

“Not gonna - this is not gonna last long,” he gritted out, with a breathless laugh. I just fisted one hand in his hair, slid the other to the dip of his back, and pulled him in until he sank down, silky-thick and scorching-hot, so fucking deep, so fucking perfect. We both shuddered and clung to each other, breathing in unison with these big ragged gulps, sucking in air like we were drowning in each other.

“Fucking - god, Dean, feels so fucking good,” I gasped, half-laughing, marveling.

“You have no idea,” he growled, and he kissed my temple, my cheek, my forehead, then my mouth again.

I was trying to pull him closer even though it wasn’t physically possible. I rocked my hips, feeling the drag of dripping-wet friction radiating out, rippling, rolling through me.

“Love you,” I whispered, and I could feel his shiver all the way down his spine. His hips jerked deeper and my entire body throbbed in response.

“I didn’t think - I didn’t know if we - if I’d ever…”

His voice broke on a strangled sigh, and I lurched blindly for his mouth, kissing him hard and hot enough to swallow the little sob that followed.

“‘m here,” I said fiercely, and I hid my face in his neck for a moment, eyes screwed shut, holding back the fucking tidal wave of emotion that was threatening to swamp me.

“Mine,” Dean said, gravelly and tender. He drew back slow only to slide in even slower, a long delicious thrust that I could feel everywhere. He made an anguished sound through gritted teeth as I clamped down, squeezing the rock-hard thickness of him, arousal shuddering through me in wild shivery pulses.

“Yours,” I promised.

He was barely moving, clutching me close, breathing harshly in my ear.

“God, I was so fucking scared,” Dean confessed. “When you called, I thought - thought we’d never get to do this again, and I just - never felt like this with anybody, not ever. Never felt this fucking close to anybody.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Yeah, I - god, scares me so fucking much sometimes.”

I could feel the desperation in his body, in every muscle, every inch of sweaty skin that was flush against mine, in the way he was quivering and trying so hard to hold back. He groaned, hips rocking in tiny shallow figure-eights.

“Just - need a second, fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he panted, and he slid a hand down between us, smoothing the pad of his thumb over my clit. I arched up into it and he rubbed me in slow, steady circles, each roll of his thumb ratcheting up the tension that was building rapidly in my core.

“Jesus, Dean,” I hissed, squirming and suddenly desperate. “Fucking close, c’mon, need you, I -”

He hitched up my knee and readjusted, and the next stroke felt like it was splitting me open, angled against something white-hot and sensitive inside me. My fingers slid down the sweat-slick expanse of his back as I tried to hold on. His hips smacked solidly against my inner thighs and he twisted up, screwed in deeper; I could feel the bruises already but I hooked my ankles more securely around his waist and bucked up to meet him.

Instead of pulling back again he just stayed, swiveling his hips and grinding into that spot with spine-melting strength. I let out a whimpering moan, seeing stars. Dean was cursing, saying my name like a broken prayer, and molten heat was pulsing low in my belly.

“I’ve got you,” he rasped. “Let go for me, sweetheart, let me feel you… I’ve got you, I’m right here, I -”

“Love you,” I choked out.

“That’s my girl,” he breathed. “Love you. Love you so fucking much, god.”

I arched up as the next twist of heat pulled me tight like a bowstring, and through half-open eyes I got a glimpse of his face: the slack red shape of his mouth, the shine of sweat trickling down his temple, the glitter of unshed tears in his eyes, all of it bright and vivid and mine.

“Love you,” I said again. It was the only thing I could hold onto; everything else was starting to dissolve in Technicolor swirls, and then the first spasm slammed into me and sent me spiraling out. I felt him jerk and shout and drive in deep, wet-hot bliss surging from where I was squeezing around him. There were big jagged lightning bolts in my guts, splintering out to my fingertips, my toes, every inch of me thrumming like I’d been plugged into the power grid.

We shuddered through it together, straining against each other with a pull-push-give-take ebb and swell like the moon tugging at the tides. I felt so full, so complete, that it drove everything else away; the blinding flashes of electricity between us didn’t leave room for darkness, and the raw joy in my ribcage didn’t leave room for doubt.

Little butterfly-wing flutters of pleasure skittered down my skin for what felt like a long, long time. We held each other. He ran his hands over me carefully, like I was something fragile, and I shivered.

The world outside the motel room didn’t exist. It was just Dean and me, his body tangled with mine, breathing each other’s air and dripping with each other’s sweat, as naked and vulnerable and close as two people can be.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and I just laughed.

-----

He slipped up behind me while I washed my face the next morning, slid his arms around me, smiled at my reflection in the mirror. I admired the way the light caught in his long eyelashes and made them look like spun gold. He smoothed my t-shirt down over my hips and hooked his thumbs in my belt loops, holding me close as he kissed the side of my neck.

We looked whole and perfect and happy together. I knew it wasn’t the truth; the scars were there, even if they didn’t show in the bright morning sunlight. I didn’t mind, though.

Cuts scab over, bruises fade away. Our bodies knit themselves back together. When I look at my scars, I don’t see damage. I see proof that I survived.

Every experience (every experience worth having, at least) changes you in its own invisible way. The things that shape you, the things that matter, leave their own scars. Love always leaves a mark.

“What is it?” Dean asked, his eyes bright in the mirror. I turned in his arms and kissed him, just because I could.

“Wondering how long it’s gonna take you to try to push me away again,” I teased, and he rolled his eyes.

“Probably not long,” he said wryly.

“It’s okay,” I said, smiling. “I’ll pull you back. I’m stronger than I look.”

He grinned at me, soft and sparkling. “You sure are.”

“There’s this guy who’s been teaching me how to fight. He’s pretty cool.” I winked at him. “Let’s go get some food, I’m starving. Worked up an appetite.”

I grabbed my bag and he turned off the lights. He waited for me by the door as I took one last look around at the shitty motel room, the stained carpet, the rumpled sheets, the thick dark curtains.

Then I grabbed his hand, lacing our fingers together with a smile. We stepped into the sunshine together.

Next part HERE.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please reblog, rec, or leave a message HERE!

#supernatural #spn #spn fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader smut #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural reader insert

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thanksjro · 4 years

Text

Eugenesis, an Overview: Let Me Get Weirdly Serious About This Book For A Sec

HOLY SHIT WHAT A RIDE.

So, let’s recap what we’ve learned over the last 282 pages.

In 2001, James Roberts published nearly 300 pages of fictional prose, based in the established franchise of Transformers, specifically the Marvel UK comic continuity. This novel tells the story of the Transformers, in their dwindling numbers, being attacked, not by their opposing factions, but by an outside force hellbent on revenge. Those who are captured by this force- the Quintessons- are stripped of their very individuality, forced into servitude until the moment they die of exhaustion. Everyone is pushed to- and in some cases beyond- their limits, the horrors of a literal genocide beating down on them like a tidal wave. Only by casting aside their differences and banding together can they hope to survive the nightmare that is the Eugenesis Wars.

But people don’t really talk about all that, even though it’s a majority of what the book’s about. No, people only talk about what happens after the Quintessons are defeated. People only talk about the robots getting pregnant, because honestly it is the most bizarre thing.

Not because the idea itself is terribly odd- I mean, at least it’s in line with the lore the comics set up. It’s bizarre in how we get to that point. All the torture, all the suicide and death and depression and destruction of entire belief systems, leads up to these robots getting pregnant. Almost like that was the whole point. And considering that this story is presenting to us a bridge for the gap between the classic Transformers and the Beast-Era ones, it could have very well been.

I won’t say fetish, because that doesn’t feel quite right, but our dear author seems to have a sort of… obscene fascination with the concept of mechpreg. A fascination that will carry on well into his career as a professional comic scriptwriter, setting readers on edge for the duration of his run with IDW.

Comparing Eugenesis to More Than Meets The Eye and Lost Light, you get an interesting view of Roberts’ growth, as both a writer and a human being. Eugenesis is the work of what Billy Joel might call an "angry young man”, focusing on the despair of wartime and the futility of one’s struggle against the flow of time and mortality. The theme of time only being perceived as linear, and being in actuality an unending plane where all moments are equal and eternal might seem oddly specific, but it’s reflected upon by multiple characters within the story of Eugenesis. Perhaps this is why he has Brainstorm and Perceptor collectively and completely jack up time itself in the Elegant Chaos storyline.

Character moments sprinkled throughout the narrative give us a glimpse of the relationships that would be written later on- some of the most compelling scene writing happens between Quark and Rev-Tone, two original characters who have such a delightful dynamic between them, they very quickly became some of my favorites. You truly believe that they care so strongly for one another, they would do just about anything to keep the other safe. And they do, in a couple cases.

Then there’s all the death. There’s a lot of death in Eugenesis, and none of it is by way of natural causes- you’ve either got suicide, murder, or suicide-by-way-of-murder. You really see Roberts shine in these death scenes, both then and now, as he captures the utter, raw tranquility as one stares down their own demise, and on the other side of the coin, the complete annihilation of one’s very heart as someone they love is destroyed. It’s downright poetic how he handles these scenes.

Still, there is a difference in how the aftermath is handled. When someone dies in the MTMTE/LL run, there’s always meaning and purpose to it- nobody dies just to die, and those who are left behind are left at least something to comfort them.

A message of love.

The return of a friend.

A chance to keep living.

A chance to be a better person.

You don’t get that in Eugenesis. In most cases, there’s no salve for the wound, only more hurting. There’s no time to even mourn, as the fight rages on and on and on. Any happiness pulled from the narrative for the characters is laced with a bittersweet understanding that these folks probably aren’t going to make it, and they’re just as aware of that fact as the reader is.

And yet there’s something kind of beautiful about that, in a twisted sort of way.

Eugenesis is a sort of love letter to those dark thoughts hiding in our heads, those deeply scary intrusive visions of everything we care about being ripped away from us. It’s a book make up of catharsis, of hurting that begs for some sort of outlet. The characters in this story are lost, and scared, and hollowed out before the mass extinction even arrives, and are put through wringer after wringer, like some sort of distanced facsimile of self-harm.

Perhaps I’m reading a bit too into this, but with how intense things get, with self-insert characters no less, I can’t help but wonder if the James Roberts who was writing Eugenesis truly needed this outlet in more than just a creative sense.

Which isn’t to say that there aren’t issues with this novel just because it was a vessel for catharsis. Pacing can end up going so rapidly it feels as if you’re being pushed towards the edge of a cliff, then stutter to a halt to the point where continuing on feels like an absolute slog. But it always seems just as you’re about to put the thing down and give up, something completely thrilling, completely insane and powerful and profoundly attention-grabbing happens, pulling you right back in. If nothing else, this book demands one’s attention.

There are also some other, more interesting issues with Eugenesis. Issues I wasn’t really expecting to run into. To highlight one such issue, we’re going to play a game.

The game is called Guess That Character Design!

Hey Transformers fandom, got a new quandary for y’all to fight over. Forget the Frenzy/Rumble color debate, forget the Bombshell/Skywarp is Cyclonus debate, it’s time for the What The Actual Everloving Fuck Is Quark Supposed To Look Like debate! Do we follow the comic and its script, which show him as being either about on par with Rev-Tone and Mirage or taller, but fails to note any sort of color because it’s in black-and-white? Or do we follow the novel, which states he’s short exactly once, and crimson? And if he’s red, where did the blue paint chips come from in Part Five? They sure didn’t come from Rev-Tone, who I know is mostly red- not because the novel told me, but because I’ve seen art of him outside of this. Honestly, other than him having big honkin’ shoulders and a bust to match, nothing about Quark’s visual aesthetic is concrete.

Now, I could tell you all about his quirks and mannerisms, how he holds himself, how he talks, how he interacts with others, all sorts of stuff. Nothing wrong with the writing there, characterization’s great! I just couldn’t tell you for the life of me how his body is supposed to look. Rev-Tone’s in the same boat, except it’d be even worse without the helpful input of some friends. Did you know he has a visor? Because I sure as shit didn’t until someone showed me. It’s never mentioned in the book. You can barely see it in the prequel comic art if you’re looking for it, and the script is less than helpful to me because I’m not Matt friggin’ Dallas, nor have I had the pleasure of reading Transtrip. All the information presented in the novel about his looks involves his mouth.

Hell, some of the writing in Eugenesis seems to imply that he actually just has normal eyeballs.

What I’m getting at here is that Roberts leans a bit too much on the reader knowing exactly as much as he does about the characters, the plot points, the lore. And he knows A LOT about Transformers.

This book essentially requires the reader to have the wiki open with multiple tabs at all times. Roberts put his heart and soul into the prose, but the world-building had his nerdy little brains smeared all over it, because there are some obscure references in here, not to mention the sci-fi jargon. You basically NEED an internet connection to get through this- I’ve never read a novel that pretty much forbid an acoustic reading, but here it is, in all its glory.

Eugenesis is a dark, morbid, conflicted story with the oddest little bright spots in it. Within five pages, you’ll go from some of the most horridly bleak death scenes to someone accidentally burning a hole in their hand like a cartoon character. But never once, in nearly 300 pages, does it ever stop trying. It may not succeed in what it’s attempting 100% of the time, but goddamn does it go as hard as it can. This isn’t something that was done for money, or fame, or anything like that. Eugenesis is a passion project in the purest sense, and you can really feel it in the way it’s been crafted. For all the frustration it put me through, never once did I think “man, this guy just doesn’t care.” The ambition Roberts shows in the prose, in the world-building, in all the funny little moments that show just so much personality within the story, truly were harbingers for what was to come just a decade later.

Ambitious. Bleak. Brutal. Weird. Ultimately unforgettable. That’s James Roberts’ Eugenesis.

But let’s get to the heart of the matter, shall we? The one question that truly matters for any novel: is it worth reading?

Well, that depends.

If you had a hard time with the darker parts of MTMTE/LL, I really couldn’t recommend that you read Eugenesis. You will have an awful time, because most of it is Grindcore x100 levels of depressing and brutal. There were a couple points where I had to take a break because things got so intense- and I’m not exactly squeamish. Maybe stick to a breakdown- like this one!- or try a group read-along. Friends make everything better, after all.

If you like Roberts work and want to see where he came from, like I did, I highly recommend you find a copy- digital of course, there are only a few hundred physical copies in existence. I recommend you find the 2nd edition, which includes Telefunken and fixes some of the more glaring continuity mistakes and typos.

It’s a good read. Just... it’s a lot at times.

Like, a lot.

Up next-

Oh, what? You didn’t think that was it, did you? This url is way too sweet to just be done with so soon.

Next, I’ll be taking a gander at Children of a Lesser Matrix, which is something that was never finished by Roberts, but is still floating around the internet because hey! It’s the internet.

If anyone has any other somewhat obscure writings from JRo, feel free to send them my way. Especially if you have any of the TMUK zines from back in the day. I wish to consume all the works.

#transformers #jro #eugenesis #recap #maccadam #Hannzreads #incoming analysis #overthinking about robots #text post #long post

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hartigays · 4 years

Note

Ok so firstly I absolutely adore your writing! Not only is your characterization on point but the way you use words and create these beautiful sentences full of emotion? *chef's kiss* anyway, could you possibly write something where like Steve is triggered by something related to his homelife trauma (feeling dumb, ignored etc) and he starts to panic and billy has to calm him down? I know that's both super vague and too specific but whatever you decide to do I'm sure it'll be brilliant!! Thank u!

“what are you, stupid? jesus. king steve, everybody. in all his glory.”

steve feels his cheeks burn bright red. tommy can be such a fucking dick sometimes.

no - not sometimes. all the time. every waking moment of his life is spent being an insufferable prick. steve has long since gotten used to it, but this? this just. sucks.

because he’s standing in the fucking hallway, surrounded by curious onlookers. his peers; the ones who used to look at him with stars in their eyes. now watching him be humiliated by the guy who used to claim to love him when no one else was around to hear.

same way his father always did. steve may be the former king of hawkins high, but his father still reigns king when it comes to tearing steve down in the most humiliating and public ways possible.

when he’s around, anyway.

steve glares at tommy, his throat working. it feels tight, like his comeback is stuck inside, the words packed tightly together. tommy just stares right back.

fucking dick. steve tries to remember what he’d felt all those years ago, when they were young and naïve and tommy didn’t care about his reputation or appearances. when they’d fall together in the dark, learning each other’s mouths and bodies and trading secrets in the quiet of his bedroom. stupid hormonal teenagers without a care in the world.

but that was before. before tommy got scared. before carol, or nancy. before steve’s world literally turned upside down.

steve can hear the snickering of his classmates, the hushed whispers. he just - it’s too much. his chest feels tight and his breath comes out in short bursts. he wants to move, to get the hell out of dodge and wash the feeling of tommy’s cruel gaze off of him. but he feels like he’s frozen in place, until. until.

a pair of curious blue eyes find his. billy, quiet as ever. he’s always quiet these days, that big personality and overbearing presence of his squandered by some altercation between him and max that steve had been too unconscious to witness.

billy’s not joining in, just trying to get to his locker. it doesn’t stop him from curiously assessing the situation before him. his clear, inquisitive eyes search steve’s face, his expression perfectly neutral.

he does that a lot these days. watches steve like a hawk, always around like a second shadow. it unnerved steve at first, put him on edge. constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

nothing has ever come of it. billy just watches him, observing. dissecting steve silently from a healthy distance, for reasons steve still doesn’t quite understand. they never talk about it - it’s another unspoken thing between them, one of many.

steve finds that it doesn’t bother him anymore, not the way it did at first. he’s grown used to it - is comforted by it, even. knowing that during school hours, no matter the place, no matter the situation, billy will be there. a silent observer whose eyes steve can find whenever he needs to ground himself.

a breath of fresh air when the world gets to be too much.

“this’ll be good,” tommy snorts, smacking billy’s shoulder lightly. his hand lingers against his skin for a moment too long. long enough for steve to notice. “you ever hear the story of how king steve lost control of his kingdom, hargrove? how he was just too damn stupid to keep it together?”

steve can’t help but think about how punchable tommy’s face has become over the years. how easy it’d be to close the distance between them, slam him up against the locker and take some of his pride back.

clearly, though, it’s not as easy as it seems.

“fuck you,” is all steve grinds out, before spinning on his heel and stalking down the hallway.

all he can think is about getting out. getting away, far away. away from the eyes of his classmates, away from billy still assessing him quietly. when he reaches the double doors leading to the parking lot, he can hear raised voices.

steve doesn’t turn back to see who they belong to, or listen to what they’re saying.

he makes it all the way to the beemer, his hands shaking as he fumbles for his keys. steve hates the way his hands shake nowadays, always a slight tremor even in his down time, made worse in high-stress situations.

the sound of his keys hitting the concrete is jarring. steve slumps against the beemer, turning his face up towards the sky and taking a steadying breath.

“you sure handled that well.”

steve jumps nearly a foot in the air, his eyes flying open in alarm. billy stands a few feet away, one hand holding a cigarette, the other stuffed in the pocket of his too-tight jeans.

“yeah, well. fuck you too.” steve bends down, grabbing his keys from the pavement. his hands still shake, his body wound too tight. on the verge of a full-blown panic.

he moves to unlock the beemer, but billy grabs his elbow. takes a drag off of his cigarette, then says, “let’s go for a drive.”

steve knows not to argue with billy hargrove by now. though, that doesn’t really ever stop him. but right now he doesn’t have it in him. right now, he’s still coiled tight, just on this side of a breakdown.

the camaro smells like billy. a heady mixture of cologne, cigarettes, stale beer, and the faint scent of laundry detergent. the scent makes steve’s head feel a little fuzzy, same way billy’s eyes do.

yeah, steve has a type. as much as it pains him to admit it.

“where’re we going?” steve asks after several long minutes of silence.

billy ashes his cigarette out his window, not even glancing in steve’s direction. “you’ll see,” is all steve gets.

they drive for a little while, the silence riding the line between comfortable and uncomfortable. steve feels a little suffocated by it, the weight of it pressing down on him.

soon, however, the camaro is rolling to a stop. steve looks out the window, his brows coming together in confusion. “the quarry?”

“get out.”

steve opens his mouth to object, not a huge fan of billy ordering him around. although - that’s debatable. he’s fully aware of how he feels when billy bosses him around on the court. but at least there he can blame his flush on physical exertion rather than the truth.

but billy is too fast, swinging his door open and climbing out of the car, slamming it back shut before steve can utter a word. he can hear him rummaging around in the trunk, and, well. steve is too curious for his own good.

he climbs out, breathing the fresh air deep into his lungs. billy’s scent had been getting rather overwhelming, anyway.

billy carries a box to the edge of the quarry, not sparing a glance back at steve. not even checking to see if he’s following.

steve still does. hurries after billy, his brows still furrowed in confusion. he watches the other boy stop at the cliff’s edge, then take a seat. a moment later steve joins him.

“here,” billy says, reaching into the box and pulling out a beer bottle.

with a snort, steve takes the offering. “this is empty. the fuck am i supposed to do with an empty beer?”

billy doesn’t answer him. instead, grabs one of his own. winds his arm like he’s throwing a baseball, then launches the bottle at the ground down far below.

they both watch as it falls. steve listens for the faint sound of it smashing at the bottom.

“get the gist?” billy finally asks, turning to look at steve with mild amusement.

steve makes a face. “yeah, dickhead. i’m not an idiot.”

“i know that.”

that has steve faltering, just a bit. the words make him feel warm. but. he’s been burned so many times now that the words are just that - words. anyone can tell him he’s not stupid. they can say it all goddamn day long, but it still won’t make it true.

in lieu of a response, steve pulls back the arm holding his own bottle before flinging it into the quarry. watches as it falls, feels that pressure in his chest lessen, just a little bit, when it smashes to the ground.

they continue on like that, until they’re down to the last few bottles. carrying on in silence, until billy pauses. turns to look at him, bottle in hand.

“you always let people talk to you like that?” he asks, rolling the bottle between his palms.

steve is about to toss another bottle. hesitates at the sound of billy’s voice. “what’s it to you?”

“just curious as to why you’re so content to let a dumbshit like tommy run his big mouth,” billy tells him, shrugging. “not like he packs a punch or anything.”

“you’d be surprised,” steve mutters. tosses the bottle, flinging it with more force than the others.

billy gives him an amused look. “do i even want to know?”

“wouldn’t tell you even if you did.”

“fair enough.”

a few more beats of silence. the last of the bottles are thrown, until they’re left with an empty box. billy stands, taking it to the camaro. when he returns, he takes his previous spot, though he’s a few inches closer than before.

close enough that their shoulders brush. steve’s fingers grip the cliff edge that he’s perched on, tightening at the feeling of billy situated so close to him.

“it’s not true, you know.” billy breaks the silence once again.

steve knows what he’s talking about. plays dumb anyway. “what’s not true?”

“you being stupid. you’re a lot of things, harrington,” billy tells him, “but dumb’s not one of ‘em.”

“yeah, well. tell that to everyone else,” steve mutters. turns his face up towards the overcast sky with a tired sigh.

their shoulders knock together. billy blinks over at him with an unreadable expression. “fuck everyone else. the fuck do they know, anyway?”

“a whole hell of a lot more than me, apparently.”

billy rolls his eyes. turns back to the quarry, starting to fling rocks into its depths. “so you let people push you around like a bitch, and you let ‘em tell you who you are. rookie mistakes, harrington.”

“when every fucking person in your life has told you that you’re stupid in some way or another, you kind of stop fighting it,” steve snaps. “look, i don’t need you telling me how pathetic i am. i get enough of that shit at home.”

he’s getting a little sick of billy’s unwarranted criticism. steve would rather he just call him stupid and go. he knows how to handle that, at least. but billy doesn’t. he just keeps throwing his fucking rocks, sighing like steve has disappointed him one too many times.

“daddy issues?” billy asks with a smirk. but there’s something underneath, something sharp and bitter. something like recognition. “figured a rich pretty boy like you would have that perfect white picket fence life.”

“you make a habit of taking everything at face value?” steve fires back, fixing his gaze on billy’s profile.

“guess we all have our faults,” billy says with a shrug. “but to be fair, i didn’t have any real reason to assume otherwise.”

steve doesn’t say anything. he looks out at the quarry. back at billy. traces the sharp angles of his profile. doesn’t look away when billy meets his eyes.

“whole world can tell you what’s what, stevie boy. fact of the matter is, ‘s not their life,” billy tells him, blue eyes burning with a near-electrifying intensity. “you decide who you are. no one gets to do that for you, unless you let ‘em.”

swallowing thickly, steve looks away. brushes some of the hair out of his eyes with a hand that trembles minutely. when he places it back at the ledge, his pinky brushes against billy’s. steve feels his cheeks heat up and their eyes lock yet again, his skin buzzing at the small point of contact.

billy reaches a hand up, brushing steve’s hair from his eyes more effectively than steve himself had. he chews on his lip, his gaze flickering down to steve’s lips. back to his eyes. back down again.

“my dad. he’s been telling me who i am my whole life,” steve admits, his voice soft. “never really had a chance to figure it out for myself.”

“tell me about it,” billy murmurs. still staring at steve’s mouth. “but you gotta break free eventually, harrington. else you’re all but guaranteed to grow into those shoes he’s been trying to get you to fill. mr. harrington 2.0.”

“that what you did?” steve asks, his own gaze flickering down to billy’s mouth. “break free?”

“trying to,” billy says, easily. his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “‘s not always black and white. but sometimes...”

steve swallows. shifts just a bit closer. “sometimes...?”

billy sucks in a breath. meets steve’s eyes one last time. “sometimes it’s pretty fuckin’ clear-cut.”

when billy kisses him, steve wants to feel shocked. he wants to feel stunned by it. blindsided. but he doesn’t. it just feels inevitable.

and this inevitability, it started the moment billy barreled over to him at the halloween party. pushing through a mass of sweaty, drunk teenagers to size him up. every choice they’ve made, between the two of them, have led to this instance. this precise moment. steve felt it, even when they were at each other’s throats. he felt it in every curious look that billy cast his way after.

he felt it simmering beneath every interaction, every word, every glance. billy had always been inevitable, steve just needed to clear out some of the clutter in his brain to recognize the signs for what they were.

billy helped him do that. with a simple gesture in steve’s time of need.

so. steve lets billy kiss him. kisses him right back. it’s a soft, sweet thing, the kiss. just a gentle press of lips, billy’s hand at his jaw. feather-light and completely out of character.

but steve is starting to realize that maybe the version of billy he’d created in his head is just that. a version he’d drawn up based on experiences he only saw the surface of, assumptions he’d made through judgment, and if he’s being honest, stereotypes.

there’s definitely a lot more to billy than steve ever would’ve thought. he’s softer around the edges, sweeter. still a fucking prick, and probably always will be, but. steve can deal with that, if it means he gets to keep learning more about the enigma that is billy hargrove.

“kissing me is how you’re gonna break free?” steve asks when billy pulls away, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“not completely,” billy tells him with a soft huff of a laugh. “but it’s a start.”

they stay at the quarry a while longer, throwing rocks, shooting the shit. they don’t kiss again, not until later. not until they’re back at steve’s big, empty house. with steve pressed up against the kitchen counter, his fingers knotted in billy’s hair.

it’s not a solution to all of steve’s problems, this thing he’s started with billy. not even close. and while it may not completely cast light over the darkness that shrouds both of their lives, may not fill the void that a myriad of bullshit has created for the both of them, there’s still a bit of truth to what billy said.

it’s a start.

#god this took me forever MANY APOLOGIES #thanks for the request honey youre a gem 🥺💖#harringrove #my fics #ask #j2badwolfclevergirl

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harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Complicit // 14 // Final

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, love, love languages

WC: 8k

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

He really, really should’ve had a plan.

But, in all fairness, Shawn’s never done the whole “jump on a 12 hour flight on a whim to chase after the love of his life” thing before, so how could he have been expected to make such a plan?

But still, he thinks, standing against a wall under a baseball cap outside Naples International Airport, he could’ve done some more thinking before all this. Or at least could’ve made a pseudo-plan on the plane.

The most Silver could give him in terms of guidance was the address of the house and that Naples is the closest airport. She’s never been to the “Vineyard” before. When Shawn asked if the “Vineyard” was a nickname or if it meant the house is on an actual vineyard, she didn’t know that either. Not extremely helpful, but he’ll figure it out. He has to.

From what he gathers on Google Maps, sucking up international roaming data charges like nobody’s business, Ravello is about an hour and a half southeast of Naples. Not ideal. But the Amalfi Coast is a pretty big attraction, so he figures there’s probably a train. He just has to find a train station.

On the way out the door with his backpack, the only luggage he bothered to pack, he Googles a train route.

Walk half an hour to the Calata di… something something and take the N5 to… somewhere and walk 3 minutes to somewhere else to catch a bus to somewhere…

.... no fucking way.

He bites into his lip and squints around. Should he rent a car? He winces. Driving in Italy sounds terrifying. What if he gets into a crash? Who is he supposed to call?

No. He needs to hire a car to take him to Ravello. That’s the plan.

More Googling. More squinting. He’s vaguely grateful that he’s been able to stay under the radar so far. He’s not sure he could handle this and dozens of screaming Italian girls begging for selfies without snapping.

He ducks behind a large leafy fig tree when he sees what looks like a group of middle school-aged girls on a field trip scramble past, squealing and laughing. Close call.

He leans against a column and sighs. Silver also gave him Mia’s personal cell number. He could just call her and tell her he’s here and hope she wants to see him and come pick him up.

Shawn sighs heavily, pouting. He’s not going to do that. This is his only shot at being a romantic hero, like, ever. He’s not going to pansy out and call her for a ride. He’s going to show the fuck up because that’s what Mia deserves.

Whether she wants to see him is another matter and he’d rather not worry about that until about halfway up her driveway.

He sets off toward the transportation center at a quick stride, curls fluttering between the brim of his cap and his forehead. He swerves suddenly to avoid another throng of young women that look ready for a beach vacation.

He parks in front of a driving service and a tall, unnaturally beautiful blonde man who doesn’t look up at him.

“Uh, ciao?” Shawn tries.

He glances up. Shawn holds his breath for the pop star response. It doesn’t come. He exhales.

“Do you speak English?” Shawn asks, wincing at how ignorant he sounds. The man nods boredly.

“Cool. Uh. Ok. I need to go to Ravello.”

“Si, Ravello. There is a train,” the man drawls, the slowest talking Italian Shawn’s ever met.

Shawn nods, uncertain. “Yeah. Right, yeah. But… can I get a car to drive me?”

The man even blinks slowly. “There is also a bus.”

Does this guy just not want business? Shawn sighs.

“Do you not take people to Ravello?” he tries, looking to bridge whatever gap this is as quickly as possible.

Finally, the man seems to give in. “Ravello is a long drive. 125 euro. We take--”

Shawn slaps his Visa down so fast the man stops abruptly and stares at him. He sees a tinge of crazy in Shawn’s travel-weary eyes. He fights the urge to roll his own and books the trip.

Shawn had hoped he’d start to relax in the car since at least then he’d know he was heading somewhere. There was no relaxing to be done.

His driver Giorgio seems to have gotten his start in Formula One. Shawn figures he should be grateful, given that the speed they’re driving at will probably cut the travel time in half. But he can’t help but wonder about the headlines if he dies in a fiery crash against the side of an Italian coastal mountain.

Pop Superstar Shawn Mendes Dies In Search Of Love, Giorgio to Blame

Shawn Mendes Perishes At The Height Of His Career, Unrecognizably Mangled

Shawn Mendes Is An Idiot, Fatally

He’s so sure there’s no way they’ll make it between the two trucks Giorgio decides to squeeze them through, but they do. Shawn slams his eyes shut and focuses on the Cez-approved meditation breathing exercises that, by the way, do not save you from your crazy Italian driver who almost plows into the back of a Peugeot going god knows how fast on the E45.

But at least he points out Mount Vesuvius. And doesn’t crash them into it.

They lose sight of the ocean for a while, which makes Shawn panic. The guy isn’t using a GPS, claims he knows every corner of every town on the Amalfi Coast. That sounded a lot better to Shawn before he got in the car, before they were winding through something called the “Riserva Statale Valle delle Ferriere,” which seems as good a place as any to ditch a body.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

It’s a chant in his head until, by some miracle, he catches sight of the water again and it’s exactly like every Instagram travel post he’s ever seen of the Amalfi Coast. He thanks whatever god there is, and thanks Giorgio, too, who grunts.

Ravello, Shawn’s not surprised to report, is fucking beautiful. Cliffs appear out of nowhere and spill off down bleached white coastline to crystalline turquoise water. It’s a goddamn postcard. The town, from what he can see of it from above, is a scattered board of colorful post-its clinging to the side of a mountain. His hungry brain tells him he can smell fresh pasta and seafood, but he knows it’s just an illusion of a man who ate half an airplane meal and a couple stale biscotti several hours ago.

Rather than descend toward the coast, Giorgio winds him around the hills past farms of lemon trees. The sun hangs low. Shawn thanks his lucky stars that he’s not having to deal with locating this place in the dark.

Giorgio stops at the base of a dirt road sporting a sign with Mia’s address. Shawn practically flings himself out of the car, almost forgetting his backpack. He shoves his Tom Ford sunglasses on against the harsh snap of the late afternoon sun. He looks around. Along the dirt path, hardly even a road, are rows upon rows of grape vines. It seems the house name is literal after all. He’ll be sure to tell Silver if he makes it out of this alive.

He starts walking.

It’s a trudge, really, up a reasonably steep hill. He slips once or twice and puts a knee into the dust, kicking up a froth of it around him that clings to his sweaty skin and white t-shirt. By the time he finds Mia, he’s going to look like he swam and crawled all the way to her.

Good.

He crests the hill to find… more hills. There are a series of large buildings that don’t look anything like homes, more like warehouses or farmhouses. Given that it’s not yet harvest season, only a few hands are out tending the vines. He descends towards them, probably looking as ridiculous as he ever has in his life.

They seem to want to ignore him. It’s a habit of Italian men, maybe. He has to wave and walk straight up to the closest figure, an older, shorter man with only a few teeth to speak of.

“Ciao. Uh… Mia Bianchi?”

Shawn hopes if she’s the lady of the house, they’ll know to take him to her. The man stares back blankly.

“Uh… dove… Mia Bianchi?” he tries again. The man looks over his shoulder at his coworkers, who’ve stopped to stare at the tall, sunburnt Canadian idiot. Shawn sighs.

He doesn’t even have a picture to show them. She’s the love of his stupid life and he doesn’t even have a picture of her.

Except that he does. He has a lot of them. Black and white and sparkling. And completely inappropriate to be sharing with a bunch of strange farmhands. He grunts and reaches for his phone anyway, nearly dead, just like his chances of making this stupid romantic gesture work.

Shawn zooms in carefully to just her face and shows it to the smaller man. He squints and attempts to touch the screen, but Shawn nearly slaps his hand away.

“Dove Mia Bianchi?” he almost whines.

One of the younger hands strides up and glances at the picture. He exchanges a few words with the others and looks Shawn over. He sighs and nods at a golf cart a few yards away, then walks towards it.

Shawn blinks, then follows.

If nothing else, it’s a faster way to get over the hills. Plus, if he’s on the vineyard, she can’t be far, right?

“Mia?” Shawn asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

The guy shrugs. It’s not very comforting. But Shawn’s out of options, so he gets in the cart.

The hills just keep going. After about ten minutes of cruising along and over them with nothing but vines in sight, he’s suddenly incredibly grateful for the ride. He glances over at his driver, seemingly much more sane than Giorgio.

“Shawn,” Shawn says, pointing to himself with a flat smile and a little wave.

The man nods. “Maurizio.”

“Grazie, Maurizio,” Shawn grunts, sitting back as they ascend another, steeper hill. He worries for a moment about the possibilities of this golf cart skidding back down from whence it came. It becomes unimportant when they reach the peak and he sees a house.

Well, it’s not just a house. It’s practically a palace. From behind it, he can see the way it sprawls over tens of thousands of square feet. There’s a pool, he thinks, and a few different gardens, and it looks like a grove of trees, maybe olive or citrus, he’s not sure. At some point, the path turns from dirt to pebbles and the ride gets louder. It almost drowns out Shawn’s heartbeat in his ears.

Maurizio slows under the shade of two old stone pine trees and turns up a narrow path lined by lush, well-tended gardens replete with color. He takes the curve around the fountain in the center of the path slow enough for Shawn to notice the detailing. The basin of the fountain is held up by a sculpture of a renaissance-style naked woman. Curled against her, with his arm around her hips, is a man helping her hold it up. His face is tucked tenderly into her neck.

The cart stops. Maurizio clears his throat. Shawn stands and steps off.

“Uh, grazie!” he calls as Maurizio starts to gun it back down the path. Maurizio looks back at him and laughs in a way Shawn doesn’t need translated.

You’re a fucking idiot.

Shawn sighs for the millionth time that afternoon. He knows.

It’s golden hour on the coast. Behind the red tiled roof, the sun spills marigold light everywhere it touches, including the belltower on the chapel beside the main house. Green shudders flap gently in the evening breeze. The front door is wide open. The smell of fresh bread has Shawn’s mouth filling with saliva. He starts to head toward the door when he hears something.

Off to the left, down a grassy footpath, he follows it. It’s as familiar to him now as her perfume, as the feeling of her hair in his fingers, as the smile she gives him when he’s very good for her.

He’d know Ol’ Blue Eyes anywhere now.

It’s one of his Italian tracks, playing off a turntable parked in another open door on the side of the house. He drops his bag beside it, smiling when he hears pruning shears and quiet steps. The record sleeve reads “Come Back to Sorrento.”

He takes a deep breath and follows the sound of the shuffling steps. Sinatra’s voice fades as Shawn nears a small grove of olive trees. The grass below his feet is dappled with shade and the streaming sunset light. A breeze rustles a wave of red fabric out behind the trunk of a tree toward the back of the grove.

Shawn holds his breath, watching a long bronzed leg follow it, stepping backward, then another. She’s on her tiptoes, barefoot in a deeply red mid-length sundress, the cap sleeves fluttering around her arms that follow her focused eyes to the branches above her head. She hasn’t spotted him yet. He could still run. He doesn’t have to stand here until she throws her pruning shears at his head for showing up at her family home unannounced in fucking Italy.

Mia turns her head to check on another branch and he lands in her periphery. Her lips part. Her eyes blow wide like saucers. The shears fall by her feet. She lowers off her toes to face him. The wrap dress hugs her everywhere he’d like to.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, lifting a hand into her hair just as another breeze picks up around them, lifting her dress around her knees to wave at him.

“So… uh… ciao,” Shawn nearly chokes.

Mia just stares for a minute. It feels like forever since she’s seen him, even if it’s only been a couple weeks.

He’s fucking glorious even covered in dirt. His hair is a little matted and sweaty, like he was wearing a hat. His white shirt clings to him. His black jeans have patches of dirt on the knees that give her flashbacks to the day she took him to Malibu in her Aston Martin. She shivers.

“What-- I mean, how… I don’t…”

“Silver told me you quit,” he blurts.

Mia’s eyes seem to swell again, then shut as she groans. “She gave you the address.”

“Yeah. I think… I think maybe she wanted you to want to see me.”

Mia chews on the inside of her lip. Another breeze tickles through the olive branches, surrounding them with a light earthy scent. Shawn shifts anxiously on his feet.

“So you just… showed up,” Mia murmurs. It’s a statement of fact, expressionless. She doesn’t sound annoyed or surprised or, to Shawn’s slight disappointment, pleased. But he knew better than to expect that. Or he thinks he should have.

Shawn shrugs. “I think after everything you’ve done for me, you deserve the effort.”

Mia’s lips tuck in slightly at the corners. She nods down at her feet. “Effort, huh?”

Shawn fights the urge to reach for her, even though it feels right. He wants to do this delicately.

Patience. That’s what Silver told him. If there’s anyone besides Mia he should be listening to right now, it’s Silver.

“I came because I want to talk to you. About everything.” His voice sounds impressively calm to his own ears, even as he feels his hands shake.

Mia looks up and immediately past him into the kitchen. She cards a fluttering strand of hair behind her ear and clears her throat.

“I have extra towels. You can clean up in the guest bath.”

She swerves around him and into the house. He stands there in the grove for a moment or two, blinking after her.

He’s not knocked out, he’s just… regrouping. That’s what Shawn decides in the shower as he scrubs the salty sweat from his hair and watches reddish dust swirl down the drain.

He was struck dumb when she led him up the stairs to one of what looks like many guest rooms. She got him a fluffy towel and showed him how to work the faucet because it’s a bit tricky. She turned and left without another word.

Shawn didn’t have a speech prepared or anything, he didn’t write a sonnet on the long trudge up to the house, but he didn’t expect her to shut down as soon as he started getting into it, whatever it was going to be. That took the wind out of his sails.

He’s not giving up. Not yet. If after a real conversation she says she does not love him and wants him out of her house, he’ll go. He’ll hold his head high and leave, knowing he put his heart on the line. And he’ll be ok.

Shawn’s breath shakes. He blinks quickly under the spew of warm water above his head. He plants a hand against the wall for stability. It’s the first time he’s let himself think about it, really consider the idea. What if he really actually made all this up in his head? What if she’s really as good as what he pays for and feels nothing for him beyond a professional sort of fondness? Or perhaps worse, what if she’s had feelings, but they’re not enough?

He closes his eyes and slowly scrubs his face with his pruny hands. He’s conspicuously been in the shower a long time. He bets she doesn’t mind -- gives her time to strategize.

Shawn lifts his head and turns off the faucet. He doesn’t want her strategies or her carefully delivered lines. He wants her.

He wants Mia as much as he wants Penny.

For once, Mia does something that would make the former owner of this home, her great grandmother, very proud. She sets aside her panic, confusion, irritation and angst and prepares for a guest.

She sets the table. She decants a bottle of Castello di Ama chianti. She hauls the record player back inside and switches over to Dean Martin’s Italian Love Songs and decides not to overthink the choice. She sets to work on a quick spaghetti alla vongole with the clams she bought at the market this morning. Her homemade loaf of ciabatta rests warm in a checkered cloth on the table.

Anything to distract herself.

But then she almost lops off a finger slicing the bread. She nicks the pad of her thumb and gasps, instinctively squeezing her fingers around the wound to staunch the bleeding.

“Hold on, I’ll get a napkin.”

She turns from the counter to see Shawn in a t-shirt and sweats at the bottom of the stairs, his hair shining wet against his neck. He swipes a paper napkin off a credenza and meets her at the counter. She watches him as he checks the cut, dabs it with the paper, wraps his hand around it to apply pressure and holds it over her head.

He looks down at her. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not really,” she murmurs, sounding sheepish.

He’s closer now to her than he was before. Holding her arm over her head seems an oddly intimate gesture between two people who’ve seen and done a lot more. It’s heightened by the way he caresses her palm with his fingers. He doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it.

“God, I missed you so much,” he says quietly, shaking his head.

Mia aches with the returning words and lets them rattle through her bones. She’s not going to say them back.

“I really don’t know what you were thinking coming here. Did you cancel work stuff? What about the album? And the tour?”

Shawn seems unfazed. “I’m on a break before we start working on tour promo. I actually went to your house. Got worried when I didn’t see Pammy’s leash outside.”

Mia’s eyes flash with affection. “She’s… staying with Gus for a while.”

Shawn nods slowly. “I bet you miss her.”

Mia’s eyes drop. Her other hand, gripping the counter behind her to keep from grabbing at him, squeezes tighter.

“Of course. All the time.”

After another few seconds of Shawn’s intense staring and Mia’s equally intense avoidance, he lowers her hand. The small cut has stopped bleeding. He cups her palm, kissing it gently. Mia turns away.

Shawn’s head drops. He sighs.

“So. You quit.”

Mia continues slicing bread. “Yes.”

“I’m surprised. I know how happy it made you.”

Mia’s stomach swoops. The ease with which he talks about her profession still strikes her sometimes when she least expects it. He talks about it like it’s any other job, like he never for a second thought to judge her for it.

“It got too complicated. I have other things I wanted to focus on.”

She takes the freshly sliced bread to the table. He follows with the bowls of salad and pasta.

“Like what?” he chirps.

Mia grunts, irritated. “A project. It’s a charitable thing.”

He seems to decide not to push for the moment. She tucks into her bowl of pasta, eager for something to shut him up.

He hums, bobbing his head as he slurps up a bite. “This is fucking great. I didn’t know you can cook.”

She shrugs. “I’m an Italian woman, Shawn. If I can’t cook, I shame my ancestors.”

He smiles as he swallows and reaches for his wine. He looks oddly relaxed, comfortable in her favorite surroundings. It strikes her as odd, suddenly, that he’s here. She’s never brought any non-family member here before. Not even Silver. Definitely not a client.

But Shawn brought himself. He flew 12 hours and, Mia knowing the journey well, probably took trains, buses, ferries and god knows what else to arrive on her doorstep.

She has yet to truly reckon with it. She sips at her own glass and watches him look around.

“This house is incredible. It’s a family place?” he asks.

Mia swallows and nods carefully. “For a long time. My great grandmother was the last one who lived here full time. We sold the vineyard in the 90s. The rest of the estate is still ours.”

Shawn looks around at the vaulted ceilings and the rustic stucco walls and stone floors. A glass door looks out onto a vast back patio strung with twinkle lights that overlooks the acres of vineyard land that used to belong to her family. The farmhands have packed it in for the evening. There’s no one in sight all the way to the horizon, where the sun has burst into flames of pink and gold. Shawn hasn’t felt this far away in a long time.

When he looks back, Mia doesn’t bother to look away. She knows the games are over. Glancing away from his pretty face so he doesn’t catch her staring won’t work anymore. He’s not here for a game. She swallows and feels her heart in her throat.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long,” Shawn murmurs. He sits forward across the smooth oak table. The sunset light catches him through the window. It makes his intense gaze even more entrancing. Mia’s fingers twitch around her wineglass.

“Don’t apologize. I don’t think I’m ready to hear whatever it is you’re about to say.”

She watches something flicker in his eyes uncertainly. He wets his lips and seems determined to soldier on.

“Mia, I know this wasn’t the plan. For either of us. It was never supposed to become… this. But I think it’s been something real since at least Vegas. Maybe before. And I think it’s as real to me as it is to you.”

Mia’s heart sprints. She knew what he was going to say. She’s known since he showed up in her little olive grove. She’s not sure why being so close to hearing the words has her pulsating in her own skin. She shifts in her seat.

“Shawn, please…” she begins, shaking her head, “I don’t want to put you through this. I know you’re already here and… god, I still can’t believe you’re here. But I don’t want to make you say it.”

“Why?” he presses, “Why can’t I say it?”

Mia closes her big brown eyes. He misses them immediately.

“Because it’s not going to make a difference. It can’t.”

She opens her eyes when she hears his wooden chair creak. He’s sitting back, his jaw tight, his eyes still on hers. He swirls the wine in his glass absently.

“Tell me I’m crazy. Not for coming out here, not for wanting this with you, tell me I’m crazy and I imagined all of it. Tell me it was all for show, all for money. Tell me Rio wasn’t real, or your house, or my house. Fuck, tell me Vegas wasn’t real. Mia, tell me you don’t love me. Please. If it’s true, please tell me.”

It’s silent. They’re far enough up the mountain from the town of Ravello that there’s no sound but the breeze in the trees and Mia’s heartbeat in her ears. She feels her face going scarlet with every word. Her hand shakes in her lap where he can’t see it.

She sits up tall, channeling Silver, and thumbs at the base of her glass.

“Like I said, it doesn’t make a difference.”

“How could it not?” Shawn hisses. He sits forward again, his gaze imploring, “Mia, it’s the only thing that matters.”

Mia scoffs. It’s patronizing and ugly. Shawn flinches.

“We both know better than that. We’re not teenagers, Shawn. Actually, even if we were, we’d be in the same position. You’ve been very famous for a very long time. I was never an option for you the same way you’ve never been an option for me,” Mia explains, her voice quivering under her false calm.

“Jesus Christ, Mia, you’re not an option,” Shawn spits. His eyes seem to darken, or maybe it’s a trick of the fading sun, “You’re the one. You’re the fucking one.”

Mia’s eyes drift shut as they well up. She lifts her hands into her silky hair and releases a rocky sigh.

“You’re not thinking. You have to think, Shawn, not just feel. This is your whole life we’re talking about. You know I can’t just fit into it. I would be catastrophic for you. Anyone could tell you that. Andrew would be first in line, I bet.”

Shawn stands. He walks to the door and stares at the rolling hills strung with vines like Christmas lights, neat strands growing darker with the night. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“If I let Andrew tell me who I can and can’t be with, my life isn’t mine. I’ve experienced something close enough to that this summer. I know I agreed to it, I know I was complicit in the whole thing, but I’m not interested in that anymore. If that’s where I really am in my life and my career, none of this is worth it. And that’s not even about you, Mia, that’s about me. I won’t put up with that. I’d sooner fucking quit and never play a show again if it meant I couldn’t be with someone I love because of however it looks to some people.”

Mia’s chest shudders. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. I can’t live with that, please.”

He whirls on his heel and stares at her, eyes hot. “Don’t say what? That I’d give it up for you if I had to? Fuck, Mia, of course I would. What kind of fucking human being would I be if I picked being famous over the person that I love?”

“Stop, please,” Mia begs, shaking her head, pressing her face into her hands.

She hears him shuffle over the stone to her. His fingers are gentle as they pry her hands off her face. He cups her wrists, massaging them slowly.

“Hey,” he whispers, the aggression in his voice gone as quickly as it came, “It doesn’t matter. That’s not our reality, it doesn’t have to be. I don’t have to make that choice, so neither do you.”

Mia’s lower lip quivers. “Shawn, I don’t think you realize what would really happen if you stood up in front of the whole world and told them you love a whore.”

Shawn releases her hands. The corners of his lips turn down. His eyes are hard and somehow cracked.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say that. I know you don’t even believe that. You’ve never thought of yourself like that, I know you haven’t. You know you’re so much more than that.” His voice grows louder as he continues until he’s shouting.

Her brow furrows. “You don’t know! You don’t know anything! The things I’ve done, the things I’ve said, the things I’ve had done to me. Shawn, if you had an inkling of the depraved… fuck. If you had any idea at all, you wouldn’t be saying this. You probably wouldn’t come near me ever again.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” he barks back, his eyebrows lifting, “Really? Fine. I’ll call that bluff. I’ll sit here with you all night if you want. Tell me everything. Every filthy detail. Sorry, Mia, it’s not that fucking easy. I won’t love you any less.”

“You can say that now! You don’t know, Shawn! You don’t even know me. What do you know? You know my dog, you know my music taste, sure, you know my name. What if everything Penny did was a lie? What if you love a ghost?”

Shawn goes cold. He stiffens all over. She watches it from his eyes down. She freezes in place.

“Don’t try to tell me I love something that isn’t real,” he breathes. There isn’t even a hint of uncertainty in his face or voice. Mia looks down at her feet.

Shawn steps forward again. Slowly, gently, he cups his hands around her neck, his thumbs working softly into her jaw.

“We can talk about image and PR and logistics. We can talk about Andrew and the headlines and the future. But don’t insult me, honey. I know what’s in front of me. I know what I love. I love you. I love you, I love you. We can talk about the rest, but we can’t talk about that. That’s real and it’s not up for discussion.”

Mia’s eyes close, pressing the building tears down her cheeks. Her head lowers in defeat. Shawn’s hands skim down her shoulders to her upper arms. He plants his lips on top of her head and breathes. Two deep inhales, two deep exhales. Then he steps away and heads back up the stairs.

Neither of them sleeps that night. He’s in the guest room down the hall from her master suite. At around 3am, she gives up altogether and sits out on her balcony under the crescent moon wrapped in a chenille blanket. She’s convinced that inside she can hear him breathe.

Meanwhile he sits at the end of his bed, sheets half torn off from his tossing and turning, begging for words. He’s never had to beg before. His artistic, lyrical brain has handed them to him his whole life. Those aren’t the words he needs now. He needs the ones that will convince her.

When she wakes up, he’s downstairs in a t-shirt and boxers. His hair is sticking up everywhere. He’s staring hopelessly at her espresso machine. She knows he hears her come down the stairs, but he doesn’t turn around.

Silently, Mia arrives by his side. She presses a few buttons until the machine starts to whir. She reaches up to the cabinet above her and pulls down two tiny espresso cups. When she hands him one, their fingers touch. They both nearly jolt apart.

She spends the morning outside. She gets her white sundress filthy picking citrus off the trees. She hauls baskets and baskets full up to the porch. Each time she brings one up, it disappears and ends up on the counter, but she never sees Shawn move them.

At lunch, he smells more seafood. She glistens with sweat over a deep dutch oven full of hot oil, frying calamari. He slices lemons and opens the bottle of white she has on the counter, pouring them glasses. They eat silently, picking at their salads, letting Rosemary Clooney’s voice do their talking. When he finishes, Shawn looks at Mia. Mia looks up at Shawn. He takes her hand and guides it to his lips, a silent thank you. She lets him touch her for five seconds before she pulls away and heads back out to the lavender garden. When she comes back for dinner, the kitchen is clean and the fruit is stored in the butler’s pantry.

She roasts a chicken with rosemary and thyme, along with some potatoes and carrots and lets him rest his hand on her knee while they finish a bottle of wine.

“I found a guitar upstairs,” he confesses, chewing his wine-stained lower lip.

She glances over at him. “My grandfather’s. It’s old and shitty but yours to use if you want it.”

He nods appreciatively, rubbing his thumb into her warm skin. She aches to rest her fingers on his pulse, just to prove he’s really there.

That night, they clean up together. He walks her to her room and kisses her cheek. She doesn’t hear his footsteps walk away from her door for a long minute after she closes it.

His gentle plucking of the guitar from down the hall puts her to sleep.

She’s gone when Shawn wakes up. He lets himself panic for only a minute or two. All her stuff is still here, and this is her house, after all. She returns around lunch in an old pickup truck with bags from the market. Eggs, cream, cocoa, fresh mascarpone. She announces she’s making tiramisu for after their branzino dinner. She smiles a little, tentatively, and it nearly makes him fall at her feet.

Neither of them seems interested in disappearing today the way they did the day before. They hover near each other, rotating positions, swirling like opposing magnets. Shawn keeps the guitar close. Once he gets it in tune, it doesn’t sound too bad. He works on a melody. He thinks it must be good because she’s humming along in the kitchen while she prepares a batch of limoncello and rosemary gelato.

(He doesn’t know what army she’s cooking for, but he just hopes he gets to be a part of it.)

He finishes the song that afternoon, pacing around the lavender garden with a sprig of it tucked behind his ear. When he’s satisfied and turns to head inside around sunset, he clocks her on a balcony above looking very settled, like she’s been there a while. She’s far enough up that she didn’t hear it, so she must’ve just been watching him.

They eat in silence -- branzino with lemon, citrus salad, arugula with balsamic, then tiramisu for dessert. They nearly finish two bottles of wine, like they’re both preparing to get mouthy. Shawn goes first.

“I think I knew when I bought the necklace. Like, I don’t know how I knew, but I knew. I knew what it would mean to you to have that. I wanted so badly to give you something as meaningful as what you’ve given me.”

Mia stiffens at the sudden conversation after a long drought. She recovers quickly, thanks to the wine.

“What I gave you was sex, Shawn. A lot of it. Really good sex that required you to make no decisions, gave you no responsibility. I took care of you in a way you’ve never been taken care of before.”

His eyes flash and Mia regrets her words immediately.

“If you really think I don’t know the difference between sex and love by now, you must think I’m a fucking moron.”

Mia’s chest deflates as she sighs. “I don’t think you’re a moron.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re treating me like one,” he jabs, draining his wine. She misses his heavy, warm hand on her knee when he stands and starts pacing back and forth in front of the table.

Mia stares at him, tensed with every word she won’t let herself say, every feeling she’s been beating back for months. Her spine aches. Her brain swims. Her mouth is dry.

Shawn stops suddenly so that his boot skids a little on the stone floor. Mia blinks quickly.

He stands in front of her, staring. Slowly, without moving his eyes from hers, he lowers to his knees, turning her in her seat to face him. Having his hands on her again makes her want to scream. She waits, holding her breath.

“I just need you to say it. Please. I know you don’t think it’s enough, so it can’t hurt, right? Because there’s a part of me, the piece I hate, the piece I’ve always hated and that’s always hated me that still wants to convince me it’s not true. So please, please, just once, just say it. Say it if it’s true.”

Mia’s knuckles are white as she grips her chair. They feel oddly detached and wiry when she pries them up, flexes them, and sieves them into his hair. His eyes shut. He lowers his head to rest in her lap. She takes a deep breath.

“I love you, Shawn Mendes.”

Mia’s on the counter in an oversized t-shirt, swinging her feet, eating limoncello and rosemary gelato out of the freezer bowl. Shawn stops at the bottom of the stairs and smiles at her. His love for her gets so big it feels ready to explode out of his ears.

He shuffles up to lean beside her at the counter with the extra spoon she offers. They eat quietly, smacking their lips.

“So what’s the charity project?”

He catches her off guard while she puts away the rest of the ice cream. She stands upright, a little too straight, then catches herself and forces herself to relax.

“Uhm… it’s an idea I had a long time ago. A non-profit sort of thing for La Splendeur. A way to look out for the girls that are working jobs like mine but on the street. It’s always seemed so arbitrary to me, you know? The women that wind up as courtesans making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year flying all around the world doing the same thing that women standing on street corners do, constantly putting their lives in danger. Sex work is so odd that way.”

Shawn nods thoughtfully. “How can you help them?”

He watches her brighten a little, scooping hair behind her ears as she explains.

“Resources make all the difference. Women like that end up there because they don’t have resources. We can provide shelter, safety, rehabilitation if necessary. We can start a scholarship fund. We can offer career counseling and interview practice and resume building. Or we can help them organize and stay safe so they don’t end up with pimps. They just need help, and money can provide a lot of that.”

He bobs his head, clearly interested. “So where does the money come from?”

“Philanthropists and investments. Between Silver and I, our network is pretty vast. A lot of the donors will likely prefer to remain anonymous because of the nature of it, but we only need a couple powerful people that would speak up and draw attention. If they say it’s ok to care, it’s ok to care. Julia Granger and Christian Becker could be those people.”

Shawn cracks a smile. “So where are you in all this?”

Mia smiles back, infected by the pride written all over his face. “Silver and I are finalizing the paperwork for the creation of the non-profit. We’ll start approaching investors formally when I get home.”

Shawn ducks his head, turning his enormous, goofy smile down at his feet. “That’s incredible, Mia.”

His voice is gentle, touched. She tingles all over. She wants to run into his arms just to feel them around her again. She locks her own around her chest instead.

“Th-thank you. It’s been a long time coming.”

They lock eyes again. The air sizzles.

Mia smiles sadly. The silence is pregnant with potential headlines written about the Canadian golden boy loving the whore who wants to help the whores. Shawn scrabbles for words to fight them off but comes up choked and huffing breath.

He watches her disappear outside, heading for the vineyard.

The bottoms of Mia’s feet are nearly black. She takes a sick sort of pleasure in it. It makes her feel like a kid again, she guesses. Reminds her of chasing Peter around the gazebo, skinning knees, playing “scuba divers” in the pool while their family ate and drank and sang, happier in Ravello than they ever were in New Jersey.

She sits on the swing beneath the pergola, listening to him sing now. The house is so much quieter than it used to be, but no less filled with love. It’s a different kind of love. And despite their desperation to beat it away, it gets stronger every second. Shawn is the strong one, the brave one, she thinks, letting it into his heart before she could.

Because it’s not like he’s not scared. She knows he is. She can hear it in his voice and see it in the way he holds himself around her. He can’t know what would happen if they made it real -- could they last? Could they manage to see past all the bullshit the papers would surely print and hold on? If they did, would their love be worth anything after all the bulletholes and sharp words?

She hugs her knees to her chest and closes her eyes, leaning into his melody. She has the song memorized now. He keeps playing it the same way like he’s planning on changing something but never does. She already knows it’s perfect.

It’s a love song about tortured yearning, a hidden love, a love that’s bursting, searching for the sunlight. Mia thinks it’s his best ever. She considers herself biased.

After the sun sets, she heads inside. He’s not really playing anymore, just kind of plucking away. She needs to think about getting dinner ready. He’s sweet, offering to cook, since she does so much of it, but she really loves cooking Italian food with Italian ingredients in Italy and won’t think of wasting an opportunity. Plus, she still loves taking care of him.

The stairs to the wine cellar are cool, worn stone. The cellar is built into the foundation of the house, which was once part of a fortress that stood on their property in the 11th century. Now lined with shelves of hundreds of bottles of every variety of Italian wine, it’s one of Mia’s favorite spots.

His footsteps are quiet, too. He’s adopted her barefoot lifestyle. He stops at the bottom of the stairs.

Facing the wall of dolcettos from the 80s, Mia twirls a finger around a protruding bottle, covered in dust, with a foil cap.

“I used to hide down here when Peter and I played hide and seek. For some reason he never thought to look down here. I always thought it was so obvious.”

Shawn steps closer, hands in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders slightly hunched.

“Maybe he wanted to let you win.”

Mia smirks, looking over her shoulder at him. “Maybe.”

She turns, her arms crossed behind her back, leaning against a shelf. He fixes his eyes on hers, biting the inside of his lip.

“I’m not… I mean, I’m not saying it would be easy,” Shawn murmurs, rubbing at the back of his sunburnt neck, “I know better than anyone how it all works. I don’t want you to think I’m just ready to throw us both to the wolves. I wouldn’t do that to you or to us. I just want to talk about it, for real. I… I know we’re worth it, honey.”

Mia’s chest inflates. She tilts her eyes up at the low ceiling. Her tears start hot and fast.

“I could be the thing that ruins everything you worked so hard for. I don’t want that for either of us. I’m not sorry about who I am or what I’ve done, despite what I’ve said. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to be ripped apart publicly for it. That kind of attention puts more pressure on a relationship than either of us is really prepared for. You have to know that.”

Shawn nods slowly. “I do. I know. I don’t want that for you or for me. But I don’t think that’s the only outcome possible. I think this would take a lot of thought and discussion about what we’re both comfortable with. And it’s going to take some of both of us… letting go a little. Which I know isn’t your favorite thing.” He looks at her pointedly, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Mia chuckles for the first time in days. “Point taken.”

Shawn senses cracks in the veneer with the way she’s looking at him now, like she actually might be considering it, all of it. For him. With him.

He takes a chance, and takes her hand.

“And the most important thing is we go at our own pace. We… I mean, obviously, we’ve done and seen a lot already. And I know I have so much left to learn about you. We can focus on that first, just getting to know each other more. I know how to make a relationship really loud, but I know how to keep it quiet, too. If that’s what you want.”

She looks down at their entwined fingers. She blinks quickly and feels her heart rate pick up, like her body knows something her mind hasn’t decided yet. She swallows and looks back up at him.

“I’ve never been both Penny and Mia with one person before. Because I know I am both. Penny’s as much a part of me as Mia is. I got good at letting them share my body because they never inhabited it at the same time. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s supposed to work. How I’m going to be caretaker and businesswoman, domme and girlfriend. I don’t know how to be someone who wants to be honest and upfront about my history and also wants a big white wedding and a couple kids. So if I don’t know how to do that, be that, how can you know and love that about me?”

Shawn’s smile is cautious but warm. He scoops up her other hand and cradles them close to his chest. He’s not afraid of showing her how his heart is clanging around in his chest. She’s had a piece of it in her body for a while now.

“Because it’s you, Mi. Whether or not you’ve meant to, you’ve let me know both. I’ve loved both this whole time. I just want the chance to be there with you as you figure it out.”

Mia looks up at him. She thinks about the night they met -- watching him come completely undone, taking a sip from his glass, waking up to see him slam his eyes shut to pretend he wasn’t watching her. She sees the same look of wonder in his eyes now as he looks down at her, all of her. Mia always knew she was worth loving. Having someone else figure that out was always the part she wasn’t sure of. But she’s sure now. He is, too.

Mia pulls her hands from his, sliding them up his chest. She plucks at the curls at the back of his neck, tugging him closer as she presses back against the shelf. Shawn’s breath hitches in his chest. His hands fall to her hips.

Mia nods, no words of protest left. His lips are gentle against hers, confident and calm. She lets him take the lead this time.

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

Grazie mille 💜

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