#but my family has been making it easy to get pissed of at every little thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yutaleks · 2 months

Text

obsession is such an ugly word

yuuta x female reader, length 5.2K CW: Yuuta's POV // yandere // alcohol // non-con groping/dry humping/somnophilia A/N: this is a repost from my previous blog, with some small edits. Banner by @/cafekitsune. Part of Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Rage simmers beneath Yuuta's skin.

He's been good about it, about you. He did it all the right way: had you warm up to him, become friends, even spend time together outside of class. You shared the same major (after he switched, though you didn't know that), so it was easy to find that pretty smile of yours in every class he'd taken this year. He tried to do this naturally, to have you grow closer and closer to him until you'd never want to be apart.

That was his plan, anyway.

But you're stubborn. He likes that about you, but it's made things difficult.

"I'm sorry, Okkotsu-san." The formality stung. "I'm so busy with my studies... dating would be a distraction, you know? Can we just be friends, for now?"

For now. To anyone else that would signify a rejection, but to Yuuta it didn't. Your words for now meant you'd change your mind later, surely. Besides, you're the one who came crawling back just a couple days later. You couldn't stand to be apart for long, could you? See, he just had to be patient a little longer.

Tonight’s the night he’s been waiting for: the semester’s over now. He’s going to ask you again to be his, now that your excuses have no merit. He’s been waiting for this ever since you rejected him. And true love is worth waiting forever for.

But he finds that being patient is hard when your cheeks are flushed with alcohol and he has to sit back and watch someone else try and make a move on you. He's been so good, so patient. And this classmate, someone so unimportant Yuuta can't even remember his name, he thinks he can earn your stubborn heart in one night?

The table you're currently sitting in hosts four: Maki sits closest to the wall, and you sit beside her. The seat across from Maki is empty; Nobara was here but left earlier in the night as she's leaving for the countryside, heading home to be with her family. She seemed to be rather eager to leave Yuuta's side, and it’s for the best. The feeling's mutual.

It leaves Yuuta alone across from you, guarding the real estate at his side with his life, as he wants any chance at all to get some time alone with you. At least, he was guarding it with his life, until a certain pink-haired freshman showed up wanting to talk to you and you offered him the seat across from you, no care at all for Yuuta's unspoken plans with you.

"Kampai!" the voices of everyone at the tables around him shout in unison, yours included, everyone clinking together their beer glasses in the middle. Some graduating senior a couple of tables away had made a speech about the end of the semester, and his words were met with smiles from ear to ear. Yuuta doesn't join your cheer, too busy staring at you and steeping in his barely muted aggravation as he glares at his cheap beer bubbling gently in his mug. He’s starting to think he came to this stupid party for nothing.

But a sudden shout startles him from his thoughts.

"Okkotsu-kun!" His eyes widen as you shove your beer glass towards him, "Cheer up, won't you? You've been so quiet all night," a chuckle escapes your lips. "Well, quieter than normal. It's our last day, cmon. Toast with me!"

"Yeah, Yuuta," Maki yells over the noise, "Stop being a stick in the mud."

He weakly holds out his glass, heart beating just a little bit faster as your beer glasses collide in the middle. The fact that you're thinking of him, including him in your fun... You're sweet to him, always. His grin grows wider as you pull back and take a swig, encouraging him with a wiggle of your brows to do the same.

You wipe your damp lips and giggle as Maki turns and says something to you, the rest of the bar way too loud for him to hear it. He looks back down at the piss-yellow beer in his glass, trying his hardest to focus and pick up on the sound of your conversation. But a loud voice interjects before he can hear you:

"Sempai!" the pink-haired annoyance beside him chimes in, leaning over the table at the izakaya to talk to you. It's the guy who's been trying to get your attention all night, a bright-eyed freshman who's very eager and, to Yuuta, incredibly brazen. Isn't it obvious from how much Yuuta sticks to your side and how much you smile around him that Yuuta's the only one for you? This freshman should be able to tell—everyone should.

It makes him sick.

"Half-way finished with uni," the freshman yells over the noise, a smile audible in his voice. “How does it feel?"

That's right, Yuuta remembers, this gathering is to celebrate the end of the semester. Yuuta never cared about these things, not before meeting you. To him tonight was an opportunity to get closer to you; he didn’t care what the actual reason for the gathering was.

You smile at the freshman. Yuuta tells himself it's different from the way you smile at him. Fake. Your eyes don’t twinkle the same, he tells himself. The confirmation calms the rolling boil of his blood, just a little.

"I'm glad," you nod, blinking up brightly at the freshman across from you. "Knowing you're halfway to the finish line is comforting, you know?"

Yuuta's gaze zeros in on your lips as you speak. You've put on lipstick tonight, a cherry red shade that looks shiny, pretty against your skin. You don’t normally wear such bright colors; you only did once, during a presentation, most days opting for that light blue little ball of chapstick you always use instead of any color. Maybe the fact that you wore a special lipstick meant that you had given this gathering just a little more importance. Is it cause he’s here? It must be.

As he stares, he wishes he could touch your lips, watch your lipstick smear and dull as it coats his lips, his fingers, his—

"What about you, Okkotsu-sempai?"

"I'm sorry?" He blinks out of his reverie, shakes his head as he wills the thoughts of you in compromising situations away.

"You're halfway through too," the freshman smiles at him. Yuuta wonders who gave him the right to breathe. "You must be happy!"

"Not really," Yuuta starts. A frown forms on the other guy's face, a question evidently on his tongue as he bites his lip. Yuuta doesn't elaborate, turning back to take a sip on his beer.

"Okay then."

Maki laughs, "Itadori don't mind him, he's just being a dick."

"I know what will lighten you up, Okkotsu!" You're looking at him again with the goofy smile. You're tipsy at worst, sloshed at best, but he just finds this side of you endearing too.

He waves his hand, dismissing you with a soft smile. "I'm okay, don't worry about me, I—"

"Let's get some soju!"

***

"Soju was a bad idea."

It's Maki, who's just a little more than buzzed, that puts an end to your many rounds of drinks. Yuuta wasn't very interested in drinking, so he sipped on one shot-glass of soju for the evening, while you, Maki, and Itadori went toe-to-toe on shots of fruity alcohol. Maki's always had great endurance, alcohol included, but you and Itadori are nothing short of plastered.

It turns out, Yuuta discovers just moments before the end of your drinking, that Itadori has a boyfriend. After downing the last shot of peach soju, Itadori's phone rings and he drunkenly answers with sobbing, whining professions of love to the owner of a dull, annoyed voice residing on the other side of the call. As Itadori's face falls down onto the wooden table, his phone slides out of his palm, and Yuuta gets a glance at the screen. It's a woman's name, Megumi, with a bunch of nonsensical emojis at the end. Yuuta doesn't pay much more attention to him after that—as long as he's not competition, Itadori's not worth thinking about anymore.

You however... you're leaning your head on Maki's shoulder, mumbling about how pretty you think Maki is. Yuuta doesn't want to have Maki on his bad side but he's certainly regretting letting her sit next to you right now, when that could've been him.

"Hey, wake up," Maki shakes your shoulder, and your head rolls with each gesture. "It's time to go home."

Your movements are slow and clumsy as you rise from the table. Itadori has Yuuta boxed in between the aisle and the wall, so he can't do much but watch as Maki helps you rise from your seat.

"Time to go home," you say, your voice whispy and far-away. Maki props you up on her shoulder.

"I'll walk home with yo—"

"Wait!" Yuuta rises from the seat, pushing a sleeping Itadori out and onto the floor. The poor guy doesn’t even flinch and he tumbles onto the wood, slamming face-first against the grain. "I'll take her home." When Maki shoots him a look, he adds, “It's on the way for me. I don't mind it. Besides, you drank more than me, Maki."

Maki quirks a brow but trusts her friend. With eyes pointing down to the freshman, she says, “Okay. I’m close by here so I’ll keep an eye on the freshman till his boyfriend gets here. You get her home in one piece, alright?”

“Of course.”

Yuuta’s mood flips entirely, beaming as he dashes out of the izakaya and into the frigid February night with you in tow. How’d he get so lucky to be the one to walk you home? Maybe this insufferable gathering was worth it after all.

“Okkotsu-kuuuun,” you give his cold hand a healthy swing once you’re outside, walking down the street towards the closest train station. It’s a short subway trip to your apartment, but with how intoxicated you are, it’s best he gets you home safely.

“Careful,” he adjusts your linked hands, until your fingers are interlocked. He tucks you closer to his side when he feels how unbalanced you are. “You drank a little too much,”

“It’s okay,” you smile. Maybe it’s not so bad you’re drunk, since you’ve never smiled this much at him before. “You’re here, Okkotsu-kun.”

You trip over a piece of cracked concrete in the sidewalk and he catches you, pinning you to his chest. You stifle a giggle, something about the circumstances of it all is so silly to you.

“You can’t walk,” Yuuta bends down, his hands coming together at his back. “Get on.”

“What if I’m heavy?”

“I’ll be fine. Get on.”

You take him up on his offer and sit on his back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands have a firm grip on your thighs. He’s stronger than you’d expect, having no issue at all balancing you on his back. A little hum of approval leaves your lips that makes Yuuta glad he’s put so much effort into being strong for you.

The one thing that does make him feel a little weak is how much he loves your scent. You still smell just like strawberries, though it’s a little tainted with the smell of apple and peach liquor. He’d only ever gotten to smell you up close that one time in the library. And those other times when you’re not able to notice…

“Okkotsu-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you know where I live?”

Oh, that’s right. You haven’t told him where you live before. He freezes for a moment, the seriousness in your voice a sudden change from the bubbly, sweet drunken drawl you’ve had for the last hour.

You add, “Did Nobara give you our address?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He nods, and continues to walk with you in tow. “Before she left, in case you needed help getting home.”

“Mm… she’s such a good friend,” you smile, laying your head against the back of his. Your body goes limp, and Yuuta wonders if you’re about to fall asleep as he carries you home… he doesn’t mind, but a part of him wishes you weren’t so drunk. It’s rare for him to get a chance like this, and it hurts to feel like he’s wasting it as your deep breaths warm his neck.

***

When you both arrive to your apartment there’s an eerie stillness about the apartment complex, perhaps due to the time of night as well as the thin, cold air. You’re still passed out, sleeping on Yuuta’s back, when he fishes a key from the dirt in a nearby potted plant you keep on the steps to unlock your front door. When you wake he’ll smile when you ask how you got home; he’ll tell you he borrowed your keys. The walls that know the truth will silently harbor his secrets.

Yuuta doesn’t need to turn on the lights; he could maneuver this place blind if need be.

He toes off his shoes at the small genkan, the tiles stretching perhaps just a couple of square feet. After closing the door, he shifts your weight on his back as he takes one large step over the tile (he wouldn’t dare be rude and drag in any dirt). Through the kitchen, around your small island, and two doors to the left is your bedroom. He takes you there, and lays you down flat upon your bedding. He takes off your shoes for you, and once you’re sleeping soundly in your bed he does a mad dash for the genkan, to leave your shoes there for you once you awaken.

Yuuta returns just as quickly as he left, and with the moonlight that pours through your windows he observes your sleeping face. With lips parted you heave a heavy sigh, like a tired puppy sprawled upon a cushioned bed after a day of play. He debates whether he should change you out of your day clothes—he wonders if you would want to sleep in something more comfortable. You usually do; he recalls your pajamas of choice are a t-shirt and panties. Should he change you into that now?

The thought of taking off your clothes overwhelms him a little, excitement buzzing his synapses alive.

The first thing to go is your socks. They are tiny little things, at least smaller than his own, cut low to the ankle. He slips them off with no protest at all from you, his thumbs gliding across the arch of your foot as if tracing it and committing it to memory. Briefly, Yuuta glances up at you, but the touch of his hands across your heel, and then your ankles, does nothing to affect your state of consciousness. Can he get away with all of it without disturbing you? It’s a little challenge he’s decided to embark, to see how far he can push it tonight.

With eyes focused entirely on your cherry lips, on the soft breath that flows in and out past your just slightly open mouth, he continues. You’re wearing a pair of jeans, which he unhooks at the button just below your midriff. It gives him just the smallest peek at your panties underneath, something dark and lacey that pops against your skin. He swallows the desire that pools under and around the frenulum beneath his tongue as he lowers your zipper. Yuuta tells himself he’s just helping you get comfortable. Truly, to him, this is the ultimate test of his patience.

Long, chilled fingers hook themselves beneath your waistband at either side of your hips. He starts to tug down. Within seconds you begin to squirm and Yuuta freezes, afraid that you will wake up and find him in such a compromising scenario. Would you believe him if he said this was only to help you? His visage, that of a gentleman that is rooted so deeply in your memory, would it assure you in your moment of confusion, or would it be corrupted and shattered? would this be his undoing?

He doesn’t have to wonder for long because as soon as your jeans are past the widest point of your thighs, you’re back to being boneless against your bedding. Part of him expected a little more fight from you; he’d thought his favorite girl was a little more inclined to self-preservation. The thought is followed by the notion that you must be trusting of him, even subconsciously. He loves that about you, the faith in him that no one else has. You’re so trusting. He’ll protect your naivety, along with the other qualities of yours that he finds so endearing. Innocence that only he wishes to keep, that no one else will dare corrupt.

Your jeans pool at the ankles before Yuuta gently slips them down over your feet and off your body. The panties you wore tonight are one of those cheeky kind, giving him the loveliest image of the fullness of your thighs and the curve of your hips. Your body’s more beautiful up close than he could have imagined, and he lets himself drag an open hand up one of your thighs, to feel how soft and supple you are. A thumb slips under your panties, the edge that’s just at your hip bone, just to let himself feel… it’s so hard being this close. There’s so much he wants to do with you, to you, but he’s sure it will happen in time. He tells himself he’s a patient man as he salivates at the thought of ripping your panties off.

He doesn’t. But he wants to.

Your sweater, which is both a little too tight and a little too revealing (for his taste), is another beast to tackle. Yuuta deliberates it for some time before deciding the risk of waking you if he were to take it off is too great. After much back and forth, he decides to leave it alone.

He tries to stand up from the crouched position at the edge of the bed but he finds it’s very hard to stay away from you after even one touch. Curiosity has him brushing his fingers over your clothed midsection, tracing the dip in your waist, his thoughts running a mile a minute. You’re so soft, so very vulnerable. How many guys who had approached you had seen what he sees in you? The beauty in something as simple yet as divine as your body… whenever he thinks about it there’s an urge to gauge their eyes out. He’d done some damage with his fists but it wasn’t permanent, so it wasn’t enough.

His fingers shake a little as they approach the apex between your thighs. His lips part and brows furrow in concentration; fingertips just barely kissing the dark fabric that clings to your skin. It’s so warm, and the patch at the center has just the slightest hint of dampness. A middle finger glides between clothed puffy lips, first over the hood, then over a dipping point, what must be your entrance. Your breath hitches as he presses just a little harder. He wants to taste it—no, he needs to.

You whimper a little when he pushes just a bit too hard. He pulls away instantly, and the breath he’d been holding exits his body, the strain in his shoulders flowing out in waves. His jeans feel uncomfortably tight. Look at what you did, with just one single sound. He’s never been more excited; to know that even a single sound that left your mouth was entirely his doing drives him mad.

The finger that he had pressed against your clothed pussy now presses against his tongue. He doesn’t taste anything, to his disappointment.

He wants to satiate this need that boils in the pit of his stomach but, at least in this small moment of clarity, he thinks he can try to wait for a day when he will get your permission. He is patient, after all.

Yuuta, in his frenzy to distract himself from your body warming the bed sheets in front of him, chooses to focus on the state of your bedroom. It’s a place that, at least to your knowledge, he’s never seen before.

It is in what he would consider to be a state of below-average cleanliness. This does not come as a surprise to him, and luckily with your state of consciousness (or rather, lack thereof), he does not expend the effort to pretend to be shocked.

Despite the fact that finals have come and gone, the floor closest to the wall is littered with open textbooks and notebooks covered in haphazard scrawl. Clothes bulge out from your closet across from the bed, dark and light fabrics alike poking through the spaces between the slats, as if you had way too much clothes and not enough space nor enough of a care to organize it all. In the corner, just beside the entry door, is a wicker basket overflowing with laundry: among the articles are pair of jeans shoved into the edge; a sweater with a sleeve hanging out, reaching for your door knob to hide your mess; and panties, so many panties. Some patterned, with florals or little animals, and others cheeky, thin little strings that barely constitute cloth garments at all. The thought of you wearing such a little thing, barely an excuse for clothing at all, stirs something in him, something fierce and heady brewing between his thighs. Had you worn that around him? Have you ever thought of him taking it off of you? He’s thinking about it; thinking about it with such excruciating detail it makes his body sweat.

As he enters a staring contest with the pile of panties, he stops to consider the situation he finds himself in. You’re drunk, and the last thing that would curry favor with you would be to take advantage of you, so he shoves that away to the recess of his mind. You believe him to be a gentleman. So a gentleman he shall be.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t poke around.

He rummages through your laundry and he plucks out a few of your panties from the pile. Under the beam of moonlight, he looks them over: they must be at least a few days old, as they are no longer flimsy and fresh, just a little stiff. As if at one point they had been warm and wet, but no longer so. They’re soiled and dried out after sitting in your laundry. He picks the one he judges to be the worst offender. It’s a cute one—lacy at the edges, cotton in the middle.

He bunches it up in his fist. Then, he lifts it to his face. When Yuuta brings the wad of fabric to his nose he takes a long inhale, a satisfied moan threatening to break past his lips. He loves you so wholly and unconditionally, including the scent of your sex that lingers on your laundry. Especially so.

It’s not wrong if he does it out of love is it? It’s not disgusting if it’s love, right?

He tells himself so as he fills his nostrils with your scent, aroused by your discarded underwear like a fucking dog. He hovers over your laundry basket, forehead pressed against the wall, the tent in his jeans becoming more and more pressing of an issue to fix.

“Look at what you do to me,” he sighs, breath warming the panties that he keeps pressed to his face. He knows you can’t hear him. But he wants you to look. He wants you to see him, see how desperately and ardently he feels for you.

His free hand makes quick work of his jeans—he snaps the button open with his index and thumb, and then soon after works the zipper down. His open palm snakes down, under the waistband of his boxers, and tugs on his length to alleviate his erection, even a little.

As he takes another breath from behind the veil of your dirty underwear, he pumps at his cock. He does it slowly, savoring the moment he can finally get so close with you still in the room.

Can you see him? Do you see how much he wants you?

Yuuta, despite what he believes, is not, in fact, a creature of patience. Within a few strokes he hears you sigh and he turns around to face you. You look so pretty on your bed in those cute little panties and that deep-cut shirt. So pretty.

Suddenly, fucking his fist in the corner of your room facing away from you isn’t enough for him anymore. He’s so close to you, can’t he just get a little closer? He just wants to see your pretty face. He’ll apologize later. You’ll love him, so you’ll forgive him.

Yuuta moves towards your bed, on something that feels like instinct. Crawls onto your bed slowly, his breath balled in his throat as you sleep soundly. You barely flinch as the mattress dips and creaks with each slow shuffle of his knees. In one fist is your balled up panties, pressed just to the side of your head, holding up his weight. His knees are at either side of your hips as he hovers over you, caging you in like an animal of prey.

All he can focus on is your face.

Yuuta uses his free hand to swipe at your lips with his thumb, messing up the remnants of your red lipstick. He’d been wanting to do that all night, to smear the color along your skin until your natural lip color pokes through. You’re naturally so pretty—you don’t need any embellishments, not around him. But it does look quite beautiful all smeared, when it’s a mess made by his design…

He then takes his hand and cradles your jaw, moves it to the side, just enough so your sleeping face is facing his own. So he can look at you, so you can look at him too.

Just like that…

He imagines this will be his view the first time he’ll fuck you.

You haven’t told him, but he knows you’re a virgin, so you’ll probably want him to be gentle. To be soft, just like this. To take the lead, to tell you “you’re so beautiful” just as he whispers it to you now. To move his hips slowly, let you adjust to him—just as he does now, rutting his clothed cock against your tummy. He does it with a lethargic, purposeful grind of his hips.

This is exactly how you will want it. He knows you. He knows you’ll love this. He knows you’ll love him.

You move a bit below him, stretching out a leg, and it lowers his cock to just above your panties. He wasn’t going to go that far, he only wanted to see you, to feel you.

What a good girl—you want it too, don’t you?

With dark eyes focused entirely on your expressions, especially the soft little grin on your lips, he grinds his hips against your own once more. He moans when the tip of his cock catches on your clit, and feels a sudden drop in his stomach when your eyes twitch below closed eyelids. He needs to find a way to be quieter…

The panties in his balled fist are promptly shoved in his mouth, self-inflicted in an effort to quiet down/ To remain the gentleman you believe him to be. And he doesn’t mind it, actually. He even sucks on it, right on that stiff double-cotton lining in the center where he knows your pussy once was. A muffled noise leaves his lips as the tangy taste hits his tongue.

He wishes he could taste the real thing, and imagines what kind of noises you’ll make when he does.

Another push and pull of his hips, and the pleasure he feels from just rutting against your clothed pussy is overwhelming. Would he even be able to hold back when he’s inside you? What kind of incredible feeling will sex be, when just rutting on you with clothes on it feels this good?

He stops thinking too hard about this and just lets himself feel. The fabric between the two of you gets wetter with every passing minute, pre-cum leaking from his cockhead and staining your panties. His teeth gnaw hard on the fabric, drool seeping through with every labored breath. He feels as if everything were soaking wet as he’s drowning in pleasure. And he loves this feeling, wants more more more.

Something happens, then, that has never happened in all the nights he’s watched you dream. As he humps your cunt through the fabric, pushing himself closer to the brink, he hears you whimper out “Yuuta”. In the state he’s in he doesn’t question it at all; his cock catches on your hole, just between the folds of your pussy, and he comes in his boxers pressed right against your sex with a broken moan muffled by your soaked panties in his mouth. What a sorry sight to see.

He rolls himself off of you and spits out your panties into the floor. As you turn over in your sleep he lays in your bed beside you, panting and blinking at your ceiling. Did that really just happen? Did he really get to come so close to you, right on your body, right when you said his name?

He wonders if its possible to love you any more than he does right now.

Yuuta’s grinning like a fool as you lull back into deeper sleep again, your body turned to its side and facing away from him. His boxers and jeans are soaked through, and his chin and pelvis are sticky, but he has not a single care in the world.

Why would he care about anything else, when it’s so clear to him that he has you now?

He buttons his pants closed and turns on your bed, to face your back. Once he’s no longer panting, emboldened by what just happened, he slides just a little closer to you. He won’t be able to sleep, not when just being in your presence alone makes his body feel electrified. So instead, he will watch you sleep.

He slides an arm around your midsection, and curiously touches your panties with one of his fingers. It’s so wet, stained and soaked with his cum.

He’s left his mark on you, for once.

He sticks that finger in his mouth again, as he had done earlier in the night. This time, he tastes himself. And he tastes you.

Satisfied, he lays beside you, and prepares for a long night of bliss.

#yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #writing tag #cw.yandere #cw.noncon

219 notes · View notes

dietmountaindewbae · 4 months

Note

hiii i LOVE ur fics omg pls never stop writing,

could you maybe do something You-ish (the TV show "You") (idk if you've seen it but it's amazing) something stalker-ish? where alex is joe and reader is his, soon to be, gf (cuz he makes her) (any alex era) 💌

hope ur well🤍💋

xxiii. obsession

alex turner x reader

word count: 12626

summary: We ran into each other by chance or by fate, your clumsiness started something for me, something for us, and it's my duty to find out who you are. (the car! era) This story is written on Alex's narrative.

warnings: obsessions & rough s*x

song recommendation: tear you apart by she wants revenge

───── ୨୧ ─────

Ever since that day outside of a party, when you fell into my arms, drunk and loud, I had never felt so high, I had felt something the moment you smiled at me and flushed from the embarrassment, your eyes watery from the cold, your lips red full of blood, alcohol running fast through your veins, my heart falling from my mouth, you pulled away and hugged yourself, too embarrassed from what had happened, you thought it was too much booze, I thought it was meant to be, right place and right time. You just said "Sorry," I helped you to get back on your feet, our hands lightly graze and we lock in a stare, but then your mates dragged you across the street, they had dragged you away from me, like parents and their out-of-control kid, you waved goodbye at me, and all I could do was smile and wave goodbye to you, I was a fool, I didn't know what to say, it was one of those 'what would have happened?' moments when I ask myself, 'what if I had just said "It's ok, don't worry, love"' Icould vividly picture us walking down the street, going for some food because we were pissed, I would've kissed you, and asked for your number, then we could be dating, holding hands in the street, laughing at everything, hanging out with your stupid mates, if they hadn't been there and taken you away from me, I probably wouldn't have found meself, hiding behind the threes in the middle of a cold winter in LA, hoping to be in the warmth of your arms than out in the cold darkness of the street. I can't help to wonder if you ever think of me.

Your name and your last name stayed in a constant loop on my mind, one of your mates, the one with the light brown hair had screamed it as she found you falling into my arms, it would be stupid if I didn't look for you, right? You're gorgeous, you were nice and interesting, It would be weird if I didn't try to find your social media. It was easy to find you, I hate to admit how easy it is to find everything online these days, I found your Instagram and Facebook with just a few clicks on my computer, it's too easy it makes me laugh.

I scrolled through every single one of your posts on Facebook, you had a few, not many, everything was mainly about your little family trips and your sister's child, I made a note that you might just have Facebook out of pressure from your mother and sister since they always tag you in memes or those annoying TED Talk videos and you never answer, I found your mother's page, widowed, 49 years old, looks 45, she gave you her face, older sister, found her page too, married with a toddler, awfully bitter since she has to post where she is at all times, even if her child had taken a massive shit and had the looks of a giant worm, she would've posted it, I left the best for last. Your Instagram, no one these days uses Facebook.

Your Instagram was private but empty with not a single sight of you... so it's no use, what about your friends?... Hello you... I could hold on to these group pictures Larissa posted, thank you internet! Your friend group was small but they knew how to get around, only 4 people, two girls called Julie and Larissa, and Julie's boyfriend Luca, 5 if you counted me in, soon, luckily for me, Julie had an empty page, barely any pictures, just her and Luca but her profile was public but that lead me to find your other friend, Larissa had pictures of her face and some of you and Julie at pubs, very self-centered I suppose, Luca only posted about being a gym addict. I took a more personal approach, your sister Nina, who loves you very much, she had plenty of pictures of you. Thanksgiving was at your house, you looked gorgeous in those pictures, you wore a white dress with red flowers and black platforms, your long hair in beautiful waves, if any pervert were to see it, you would be such an easy victim with that long hair, but you're not, you're not so easy to hunt down in the dark. There was a picture of you and your sister's baby boy, sitting next to the three by a bay window, great. I took note of the stores, houses, and historical buildings nearby and then reality hit me as I took a cab on the way to your house.

Come on Alex, what are you doing? You look like a creep with your cap and coat in the middle of the night, It's only just a crush it'll go away, just like all the others. But you see? That's the problem with you, you're not, this is dangerous but I'll take my chances for you, I'm not obsessed with you, like I said, it's only just a crush. I hide behind some trees in front of your house on the other side of the street, and I contemplate this wonderful girl in her bedroom, going round and round with a book in her hands.

At night me head couldn't stop spinning, making all of these scenarios, about a girl who meets a stranger, and they fall madly in love in just a split second. I didn't need more, I could hold on to your light vanilla perfume and the softness of your hair, your lips, your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve of your breasts in the blouse you wore that night, I want to hold you close and kiss you hard.

For next few days I followed you around, I made you a time table, every morning at 5:30 you went for a run, and you finished off at home some with exercises you found on YouTube, you were visibly struggling, and that made me laugh but I felt bad for doing so, you worked hard, you finished around 6:30, you liked walking like a true new yorker, in your most sober looks, sometimes in a dress with a blue navy sweater on top of dresses , jeans, and a silky shirt, winter or no winter, you loved wearing tank tops, loved exposing even just a little bit of your body, even in the coldest days, your legs, your beautiful shoulders, a v-neck, mini skirts, checkered shorts or pants, and sexy patterned tights with colors like pastel blue, and even red to spice up your all black outfits, and you always wore that luscious and berry coloured lipstick on your lips, heels, motorcycle boots, ballerina flats, dresses, chunky sweaters, straight leg vintage jeans, coats, heels, shoulder bags, mini bags, but what a must was, something that never came off of you, your golden necklace, you're an everything girl, you dressed for the day, it told you exactly what to wear, even if you broke your pattern, you mostly dressed like Jane Birkin, jeans, white shirt, chunky purse, but you love leather, leather belts, leather jackets. Then you walk to your favorite café, and your drink depends on how tired you feel, black coffee for busy days or cappuccinos for the days you don't feel in a rush, then you take the metro, read a book and sip on your coffee while listening to your music, you are in college by 7:30, have 30 minutes to spare, but you're wise, and you use them organize yourself while you ease up with some music, I've never seen a longer playlist to be honest, there's a bit of everything there, you write your things in a red wine journal, I wonder what's in those little pink notes you stick on your notebook.

I made sure you got safely to your workplace after school at 4:00 pm, a bakery, you love talking to the people at the register as they ask you for your favorite dessert, and you always choose the same, tiramisu, rich coffee with some liquor, mascarpone carefully enveloped with delicious whipping cream, and a touch of cocoa sifted all over the tiramisu, and you juggle back and forward with doing school work, help in the kitchen, serve the costumers with a bright and friendly smile, you're tired and they don't pay you enough. And when you get home a 10 pm, you don't go to sleep, you stay up until you're finished but you never truly are, no matter how late or early, you can't sleep, why is that beautiful? Aren't your sheets made of the softest cotton? But I can see, that you are compromised to live in a city that never sleeps, you get ready for your next job at your nearest live jazz pub as a bartender, I'm very familiar with that type of job, you serve the customers with a kind smile as the music rocks you, you talk to other girls, and the artists flirt with you from time to time but you didn't submit, you knew better than that, you got paid well, the tips that fell on your back pocket from the nasty old men helped you to afford your apartment, barely making it to the next cut but you made it.

And every restless night when your mind couldn't stop thinking you went out to the nearest pub, and you made new friends, some men flirted with you until sadly, one night I had to watch you leave with one of them, he conquered your body before me, I wonder if you ever think of me in that way, a sexy stranger, that clouded your mind with ideas until you finally gave in. He did what he wanted to do, and when he left, you were still flushed and needy, that night I watched you hump your pillow with angst to get yourself off, a gorgeous picture to see, one that was engraved in my brain since then.

Every night when I crashed in my bed, and I prayed for this to go away but it continued to grow, I prayed for you to get out of me head, but your face, your smile, every curve of your body lived in me head, and if I don't something about it, you'll hunt me down forever.

I walked down the street on a Saturday night, It's been a week since we bumped into each other, discreetly searching for you with my eyes, until, I found you, in your West Village, street-level, white, vintage but modern apartment that might be hard for you to afford but you keep on paying it because the creepy landlord has a massive crush on you, he cannot fool me, I know what it's like.

You live in such a melancholic part of New York and also warm, old, and historic, it holds so many stories, and memories that's why it reminds you of home, like the baby pictures your mom posts, your living area illuminated with yellow lights from you mid-century lamps, like the sky in a beautiful afternoon, laying in your sette in a white tank top and panties, finally, you get to relax and enjoy yourself.

I could see the outline of your body through your thin linen white curtains, you were wearing vintage headphones connected to your record player, reading a book, Bukowski's 'Love Is A Dog From Hell' Yes, it must certainly is. Then suddenly you stood up, I'm certain you're barefoot, through a crack in the curtain I can see you're approaching the window, I could see the left side of your face, soft, round, cute little pointy nose, and your eyes, a sparkle in them as you stare into the sky, pink pouty lips, and a little beauty spot in your cheek, your phone in the ear, moving your lips with a smile as if you were talking to the person in the other line in real life. You nodded a couple of times and then you hung up, I saw the outline of your body, running towards your bedroom, what's got you in such a hurry? But before you forget, you turn up the music so loud the whole neighborhood can hear it, you choose something classic 'Bang Bang' by Nancy Sinatra, shoot me down, your linen curtain reflecting the light, and you take out your top in one move tossing it away, the outline of your naked beautiful body stretching had made me think so many things to do with it in less than a second, you pick your clothes with care, hanging them in front of your mirror, posing with the clothes on top of your body.

You sit somewhere in your room, and I can hardly see you, something about your magnetism draws me to you, so I stupidly cross the street and find shelter behind a three, but I get even more stupid as I get to see you doing your makeup in the mirror, your phone rings and your face goes blank, you answer and I see how your expressions change like the way flowers rot, gradually you get darker and darker, until... you break into tears putting an end to the call, and you push your phone away, you look into the mirror, and I see a tear roll down your cheek slowly, your face scrunched, and your cheeks reddened, you look at yourself in the mirror, all I can see is hate and rage, and then, you're cold as ice, not another tear rolls down your cheeks, you clean them up with a soft cotton pad and continue to apply makeup on your face, I wonder who has made you cry? even if it was just one small insignificant tear, whoever that was...they still made you cry.

Before you leave, you check yourself one last time, the dress you choose to wear was way better than the typical night outfits women wear these days, less ostentatious, you like dressing feminine, classic but modern, but not so pretty that you look like a little girl, you were more than pretty, you were hot, steaming, boiling, no man would approach you like that, and that was the sad truth for you but good news for both of us, not as any man would approach you, they had to have big balls to do so, baby doll dress, platforms, and a racer jacket, cute, stylish, edge, as always, you were sharp as a blade to the skin. Your hair is straight and it looks longer than when it's on your natural waves, and the wind blows perfectly on it, but that velvet red lipstick on your mouth might be the death of me.

You went outside, took a cab, and went out, I waved my arm, and soon enough a cab passed by.

"Where to?" The man said.

"Follow that cab in front of you," He took off, it was sad, drivers these days don't even care for men like this, the ones that just order to do something like that, there were a lot of crazy people here, and I had to protect you from them.

I see you being dropped off at a crowded pub, I hand a good amount of money to the man, and he drives off, I see you go inside, and you find your mates, I sit across from you, not too close so that you can see me but, but not so far so I don't hear you. You hug each one of them and you sit in the booth next to Julie.

"What's the occasion?" You said, next thing, Julie turns and shows a sparkling diamond on her finger, "Luke, Luke, Luke!" You teased her in awe, you held her hand carefully, examining it up close to the ring, "It's stunning" You said with a kind smile, it was amazing how I wished to be that hand, the one you caressed with care.

"I wanna do something big for the bachelorette, and I don't know where to start, I mean..." It must be hard for you, everyone around you is married or has a serious more than the 2-year relationship you can't hold on to, everyone has a kid now, everyone turns 27 and suddenly they already have a house, a child, and a loving husband, I wouldn't be like that ever, things won't be like that with me, I promise, we can take it as slow and calm as you want, or maybe go fast, I can go both ways, I just have to wait for the moment I may finally introduce myself to you, maybe by tomorrow when you go out but it must be soon before you forget about that last Saturday night, and it looks like you are in the process of, you are emptying those glasses of wine like coke in a hot summer day.

"Ease up with the wine," Larissa says, "You're gonna end up embarrassing yourself like the last time, you always have to pull a seen," Here we go.

"What fuckin' scene?" You spit back, "I was tired and I had been wearing high heels for more than 2 hours, yes, I was drunk but it was a genuine accident" You were annoyed, why could no one understand that? Accidents happen, and it must be hard for you to stand that pain, if I had stayed over, I would've given you a lovely massage, and treated you the way you're supposed to, I'm starting to be not very fond of Larissa.

"Uhu, yeah, but do you remember the last time you went to that party and got so drunk you "accidentally" confused a cigarette with marihuana and cried in the street like a baby?" Larissa, you just had to make it worse, didn't you?

"Fuck off, I can do whatever the fuck I want, if you don't want to believe me that's fine, oh!... and a scene, Larissa, a scene is what you pull when you yell at everyone as if you were the fucking owner of everything and everyone" You took your purse and rushed out, I see that Julie went out to get you, so I discreetly follow her, and find you waving your arm for a cab.

"Wait, don't go," Julie says with a caring tone, "I know you're not ok, you can't lie to me, you know how Lari is..."

"But why does she have to be a fuckin' news flasher of everything I do, embarrassing me in front of everyone, making me look like I'm not fun to be around," Julie tried to hug you but you wouldn't let her near.

"You say some scary shit while you're drunk, that's the only thing I'm going to agree on, but I can see you're not ok," Intuitive, honest, and kind, good choice for a friend.

"He called me" Julie sighs, who is he? This is the prize of being old fashioned, just like me, that's another thing I like about you, you have a life, even if you spend time alone, you go out in the world instead of taking a picture of it and expose your life, you have a little life, but it's yours and only yours.

"What did he want?" You shrugged and searched for something in your leather purse, taking a cigarette, and desperately flicking the lighter on.

"He just asked how I was, while he's off... modeling and possibly fucking two to three girls every single night, and he asks me how I am, drunk and high, he's so... he's-" To find the right words to describe that wanker only made me think about the damage he must have done to you, come on, spill the name, "That's not really everything, he's just-"

"Part of everything" Julie answered back, hugging you close to her, a caring hug, sweet, I could take a picture of it, I'm glad there is Julie for you, "Go home, and text me when you get there," She holds her arm up, taking a cab for you and sending you back home, I did the same thing as before, and the man did as he was told. But the problem was, you didn't go home, you went to a nearby liquor store and bought more wine for yourself, you drank it straight from the bag and you plugged in your wired earphones to your phone, kicking your feet and humming to the music 'New Dawn Fades' by Joy Division, a sad post-punk classic, you should be glad I am here to be on the look for you as you waddle in the steers, an easy target, if anyone dared to do anything to you, well, you must be glad there is me.

You walked a few blocks to your house, but you didn't go in, you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, so you sat by the staircase, defeated since you were desperately looking for your keys in your little purse, and you stared into the empty dark street, and you cried, you kept crying so hard it makes me feel the need to go and help you, I didn't really think about what I was doing, you were desperate, and I was afraid of letting you stay outside like that, then you stood up, unpredictable as always, I see you taking a fast pace. What are you thinking about? Did you forget something? You walk a few blocks until you stay still on a crowded street, the cars on that street go by faster, and you stare into the void as the red lights flash before you in straight lines, your cheeks stained with black tears, the darkness takes you in like one of their children, your head wrapped up in horrible ideas, so dark they blind your eyes, so atrocious your mind can only find one way to make you see the light at the end, you can't find peace, your body is tired, your eyebags are heavy, and you don't feel like yourself, you've lost control and you murmur something over and over again under your breath like some sort of sick prayer...

"A loaded gun won't set you free"

I see you take a step forward, now standing on the pavement, my heart drops to my stomach, and I run to get you, the wind blowing my cap away, what are you doing? why are you doing this? I can fix it, I can fix you, I can help you, I'll make it all disappear, before you take another step, the bus coming your way was out to get you, and you closed your eyes, but I won't let you go like that, my hand grasps your shoulder tightly, and I pull you to my arms, you're cold, shivering, your wired earphones fall from your head and get tangled in your hair.

"Are you alright?" Your face is wet with tears, and you look at me with big eyes, flushed again from the embarrassment, but that sparkle, that little fucking sparkle just makes me so mad, I'd kill for you to see me like that over and over, your little nose red, your eyelids a bit puffy.

You quickly wipe your tears, "Erm..." You sniffed, and you stared into my face with a cute and educated smile, "No... I mean, yes... sorry, I'm just... I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry," You scan my face, the familiarity of it makes a grin spread on your lips, "If I sound like a creep please stop me, but, I think I know you" Your lips curl into a bigger smile, as you realize who I am, I am that man, I am the man who will always be there for you, "You're that guy I fell into the other day" I pretend as if am amazed over who small the world is.

"Hey you," You said to me with a smile.

"Hello you" We both look to our feet, and I feel some warmth creeping up me cheeks, "We gotta stop meetin' like this" I see you flush, looking at me through your lashes, you slowly bite your bottom lip as you brush your hair out of the way, flirty. You struggle to untangle your earphones from your hair, I take a step forward and gently untangle them.

"You just had to come and rescue me again huh? Who are you? Superman?" I hear your voice, and your laughter like a melody I would love to hear over and over again, gentle, a little deep, but beautiful, I can see that behind all of that dark makeup and those dark looks, you're a sweet but lost little girl.

"I'm Batman" You're laughing and blushing at my jokes, that means that you like me.

"I like your accent batman" That's nice to hear, some people say that it sounds too rough and I sound like a scumbag, but I'm glad your ears enjoy the sound of it.

"Thanks, love" You take a step forward, your eyes looking at mine and then at my lips, it's hard to breathe right now.

"What are you doin' so late, huh? Are you wearing your costume?" You tease me, and we begin to walk together, to nowhere, just where we want this conversation to take us.

"Sort of, and you?" You shrugged, what a hard night you had. I'm worried about you, you didn't need to apologize for "not thinking", we kept walking until the smell of food dilated our nose trails.

"Just went for some drinks with a couple of friends nothing too exciting... do you mind if we stop for some food?" My fantasies had become real, you wanted to get some street pizza, the nice old man smiling at you tenderly, he's nice, not creepy, just a nice man, you ask for two slices of pepperoni with Italian sausage and the man is nice enough to give you the most fresh and warm slices of pizza, "Here, it's on me... it's the least I can do"

"Thank you" You chuckled and waved it off, gosh I wish I could just freeze this moment forever.

"I should be thanking you..." You wait to hear my name, and I stay silent contemplating this moment for a second, this is how it starts.

"Alex" You shake hands with me as your tongue, teeth, and lips articulate your name, you have a lovely name, and I'm crazy about you, "Charmed" I hold my gaze at you as you slowly let go of me hand.

"So, what were your plans for the night before I had completely crashed them" Funny, dark jokes, sarcasm, you're really smart but you don't like showing it off, you make me laugh so much, it's clear we have the same humor, that's another reason as to why you're perfect for me and I am for you.

"Um... I thought about going out somewhere, anywhere, sometimes I can't sleep... I'm afraid of losing life by being a slave of me work, me house, everythin' but I found something exciting" You smile to yourself, and you smile at me, you see? We're perfect.

"I do that sometimes... whenever I can't sleep, I go to a bar and you know... try to meet new people, I hate having to post about it on social media though, everyone has their screens glued to their faces, and I just don't like that, I don't wanna breathe my phone, I wanna breathe air" If I were you I would write a whole book about this, I love that you think just like that, we can be people for once, and run around the world and make it ours, "What do you do for a living?"

"Music producer" You smiled at me, "And I have the gift of guessing people's favorite artists,"

"Really? What are mine's?" I have the chance to look at you confidently, I see you like that, I can see how fast your heart is going, how you try to calm it with your breathing, your chest rising and falling fast, as I stare into your eyes intensely making little goosebumps crawl like spiders, I hope you know how much I like you.

"Nancy, Lana... and summat dark like Joy Division Unknown Pleasures" You clap and you're amazed at how exact I am, I can smell it on you.

"Exactly, I love them," You began to hum their songs, dancing on the street, I follow your lead, as you spin, "I was listening to it a few moments ago" You turn dark again, I'm not going to let you, I immediately regret ever saying that, I don't know what that bloody song did to you, but you were listening to it before you attempted to get crashed.

"I'm glad I was there" Sweeten up, tell me what's wrong, I'm here for you.

"Yeah... me too, I wasn't thinking straight..." You clean your throat, you cross your arms, and furrow you're eyebrows, it makes you angry to say it, makes you sad, makes you frustrated, and even so since you watch me patiently waiting for you to tell me what happened to you, I didn't have to say it, you already knew "I don't think you would like to hear about my problems Alex, they're meaningless"

"Nothin' is meaningless just like us meeting tonight perhaps..." Shite, I take it back, I can see your face looking at me weirdly, but you smiled, you're fascinated? Did you like that?

"You're right," You warm up to me, I can see it in your body, I can see it in your face, I've given you no reason to not trust me, I'm harmless, I told you you can trust me, "But I want a ciggy, if you don't mind" You lean against a brick wall, your leg supporting your weight, I'm in love with your smooth and shiny legs, what's your secret?

"Mind if I steal one?" You say no with your head, you check your box again, and you curse in your head. The box has only one cigarette left.

"Sharing it is" You light your cigarette with your pink lighter, I can see some cute puppy stickers on it, you inhale the thick white smoke and exhale it, your whole body relaxing, feeling lighter, you feel calm, and you hand it to me, holding it between your index and your middle, you have a vintage silver rose ring in your middle, cracked red nail polish, and the cigarette butt was stained with your gorgeous red lipstick, I take it in between my lips, your lipstick tastes sweet like marshmallows, I savor it, Jesus, I hope I can taste your pretty lips soon.

"Talk to me," You sigh, and your mouth articulates each phrase, your voice tired and sad, I hear every detail of your story with care, a girl that can't control her alcohol, one that just wants to have fun, one that makes stupid mistakes but learns, I see beauty not only out but inside you, in your mistakes, in your intentions, in your life, you only got one, and you've made noble mistakes, I can see you're a whole woman, a hot and determined woman, but you have no road clear enough, no road to pick, you're chasing something you don't even know what it is.

"So now, I'm just trying to see what happens, I'm getting my degree soon, and then I'll keep working, maybe I'll start something on my own" Maybe if you don't love your work, at least you can come home back to me, I'll cook dinner, I'll wash your clothes, I'll set the table, I'll prep you a warm bath, I'll shower you, you won't move a single finger when you come home to me, "How's working as a music producer?"

"Oh, well, it's great... sometimes we have our differences but most of the time I just do what people tell me to do, in secret I make their music better, sometimes they don't notice and they just brag about how amazing was their idea" Your cigarette burns away into my fingers, I set it off into the wall and discreetly put it inside my pocket, you change the direction, we're going back, you're shamelessly eying me up and down, I swear if you don't stop...

"What are your favorite bands?" You're changing the subject, I don't like that, I don't like that you don't want to talk about what you've told me, but I keep you interested.

"Well... an old-time favorite is The Strokes" I answer firmly, you take out from your purse your earphones, plug them into your phone, and press play on the music as we walk together sharing your music, 'Call It Fate Call It Karma' on full volume.

"Might be basic for you, but I don't see a better song for this moment" You turn to face me, and we stop in the dark corner of the sidewalk, your eyes greedy and precious, that bloody spark in your dark eyes excites me, it's all in your eyes, I can see it clearly, I can see what you want from me, you blink slowly and wait for me to make the next move, and I don't doubt for a second, I close the space between us, and very gently press the palm of my hand to your warm cheek, it's warm and pink, staring into your eyes like stars in the black sky, kissing your lips, sweet as burned marshmallows in a bonfire night, you kiss me so softly at first, but you make that animal inside me come alive, I'm a man, I'm an animal, and I kiss your tender lips hungrily, I didn't expect for you to answer back with the same hunger, you feed me with your kiss, and your breath tastes like ecstasy, I'm a junkie, sweet sweet nicotine, I'm a chain smoker, "Take me home, Alex..."

"I'll take you anywhere you tell me, sweetheart" You grab my hand, fingers intertwined, and I feel 15 again, my palms are sweaty, my sweat is cold, and I feel so warm in my clothes, I can't wait to take them off, the anticipation getting the best of me, you make my dreams come true, and I'm so happy the world had chosen you to fall into my arms. I'm your protector, a guardian angel.

On the way home, we sneak to share some angsty kisses three or more times, you're getting me worked up, letting me touch you, grasping your hips, biting my lip, kissing my cheek, moaning my name into my lips, you're making my head spin. We walk up the stairs together, opening the door to your shelter, you have a lovely house, so clean that some things are allowed to be misplaced, it's big because you don't like having so many things out, your bed is on the other side of the wall were you living area is, the vague familiarity of it makes me feel like I'm imagining it all.

"This my girl cave, my crib" You joke, I take pictures of it in my head from bottom to top, every single inch, every place I imagine us being in, watching tele, cooking together, making a mess of the kitchen of course, dancing, fucking, scratching your wooden countertop, "What do you think?"

"It's-" We both get freaked out by the knocks at your door, some dickhead calling out your name, begging you to open the door, you roll your eyes, you know exactly who he is.

You swing open the door, cross your arms, and stand your ground, marking that he's not welcome here, you're strong, you're determined, go you! Show some teeth, "I don't wanna hear another one of your crazy fucking stories, tell them to your mother, Cameron" You were about to shut the door in his face but he stops it with his foot, that must've hurt Cameron, that's your ex isn't he? The one who made you cry, "Leave" You spit.

"I won't, you can't possibly ask for something like that... you and I know there's no one better than me, no better match than us" You stay silent, why are you thinking? why are you second-guessing? He takes a step forward, he's getting closer, you're face is a frown, you don't want him to touch you even though he keeps trying.

"I don't want you here, you must leave now Cameron, I want you out" He turns into hysteric laughter, he thinks you're crazy, he thinks you've lost your mind, well big shot, you're not it, Cameron only wants to hurt you with his words, he wants to make the most damage, he gets off at this, making you his only real standard, but Cameron will never treat you like you must be treated.

"Don't talk me to like that" I take his aggressiveness as a sign to take a step in, who the fuck does this wanker think he is to talk to you like that? You see that's a real scumbag, and I'll be his worst nightmare.

"Like what?" I come up from the back, cocky, sounding like a total prick, and I can see that you love it, when I sound like this, dominant, confident, "She's telling you to go, I'm telling you to fuck off. Now" I slam my voice at him, there are scary people in this world, there are men like Cameron, he has an intense gaze, but he wouldn't ever pick up a fight for anyone, yes... not even you, he's too vain, a narcissist, he is all bark but no bite, and then there are the men who would move mountains for their loved ones, he steps away, and I shut the door close, I can feel you shivering beneath my skin.

You stare at me, and I drag you in closer, that's what you like... you liked to be treated rough, you like being needed, I push your hips against mine, I can see it in your face, you've felt it, you've felt how hard my cock is, and it's hurting so fucking bad now, I can't wait for another second, I can't wait to take you to bed, you jump on me, wrapping your gorgeous soft legs on me, I decide to leave the first reminder of me on your kitchen table, laying your body on top of the cold wooden countertop for the first reminder of me and the things I'm about to do to you, my knuckles pull down your panties, ripping them off from your skin, your pussy glistening, bathed in your wetness, I can smell your flesh from the distance, like a predator and their victim, I'm a lion, "I'm gonna fuckin' tear you apart"

"Fuuuckin' please" You moan so loudly I bet it could be heard from across the street, and your voice shivers, I've barely even touched you yet, and you're already so wet for me, what are you thinking about? what's in your mind? I wish I could crack your skull open.

I lower myself in between your legs, I've been so busy admiring your body, the scent of the almond oil you rub on your smooth legs, I bet that you shaved them today, and I wonder what else have you shaved, your dress rides to your hips as you contortion under my touch, Jesus, you're desperate for it, but no, I want to enjoy you.

"Calm the fuck down, lay still and close your eyes" I order, and you stiffen up, staying quiet, and still, "Atta girl", I can finally see what's in between your gorgeous long legs, a pink and small pussy, Jesus, I bet you're so fucking tight by the looks of it, my ring and middle finger begin their assault, pressing down vertically against your clit, you hum and your hips writhe against me fingers, slowly, pushing them, you like that, rubbing yourself against them, and when I see you through the glass I lose my mind, I see how me fingers get coated and damped in your wetness, and I love watching you get so worked up by that, I can feel me cock just getting harder by the second, it's hurting and it's a pulsing pain, but I bare with it just for you, because now I'm going to show you how exactly you're supposed to get fucked.

I spread open your pussy, pink and warm, swollen clit I pinch in between me fingers, and you hiss but you only get wetter, if I pinched for a little longer you were sure coming all over the table. I open me mouth to taste your warm and savory juices, I suck and kiss your clit, picking up with my tongue your wetness, you're going to cum so good, I can feel it building up, you're in for a ride, and you've just begun to climb up the roller coaster.

"Oh... that's soo good" You gasp and sigh, I let my two fingers twist inside your pussy, me knuckles rimming your walls slowly, the bumpy and hard skin of my fingers make you gently fuck yourself into them, while I watch you with my tongue lapping over your clit teasingly, just those gentle touches make your legs shake, and your walls to contract, you're wonderful, you behave well, your hands slowly crawling into me hair, pulling it gently, your little whimpers get me worked up and I have to put in the biggest effort to not palm meself, I want you to feel every inch of me.

"You feel so lovely, babe doll" This feels so right, you bite on my lower lip, pulling my flesh until it bleeds. You're a sucker for my accent, you really are, you enjoy hearing me voice, doesn't it relax you? Doesn't it turn you on? I want to know what it is... I want to feel what it is, your legs keep shaking and your body keeps getting stiffer, your lower abdomen making pressure, and your walls are closing around me fingers, I shake them inside you, your mouth falls open, my lips sucking your clit harder and your body arches until I feel your cunt losing up, feeling your release leaking out of that tiny little hole, I'm eager to taste it, I eat your pussy eagerly, you know I'm hungry for it, my mouth eating your pussy like a soft and warm bun, and you taste just as sweet, just as good as I imagined, I won't let you rest, I will keep you on the limit. I drag you forward, making you kiss me lips, "Do you taste that? Taste how sweet you are... taste how good I ate you"

"And you're gonna fuck me just as good?" Your hand sneaks in between me legs, you love how hard my dick is for you, it makes you feel so thrilled, makes you feel good about yourself, and it makes you feel hot.

"You'll just have to wait a little bit longer, I'm not done with you" I'm certain about something, you're a kinky little shit, and I know you want something like this, I bend you over the kitchen table, and you're just ready for it, arching your back, spreading your legs, you're not putting a fight, my hand kneads your ass like dough, and spanks it hard over and over again, "You precious little thing, are you going to do everything I tell you to do?"

"No" You state firmly, earning another smack in your ass.

"Tell me summat..." I push my hips against your dripping wet cunt, that's oozing for another smack, "How much do you want it?" You sigh, rubbing your ass against my cock, you're killing me, you better stop now, the friction, the warmth, your goddamn smell, "Answer me you fuckin' cunt" You giggle, you do love it.

"I want you so bad" You whisper, no, I don't like that.

"Not enough" The smacks you earn are getting harder to bear, but you enjoy them, and so do I, you masochistic little shit.

"I need you inside me, Alex... I can't wait any longer" You rock your hips against mine, humping your naked pussy against my bulge, "Please..." You whimper so sweetly, I can't handle it any longer, I take off your dress, and you're wearing nothing but your tall black heels, looking like a fuckin' hooker, but I bet that's what you like.

"You want it you fucking slut?" You keep whimpering and rubbing yourself on me jeans, I bet that you've stained them already, "Come here" I turn you around and kiss you deeply, I can feel your hands unbuttoning my shirt as fast as you can, even in the heat of the moment you don't break my shirt but I couldn't care less, I take your hands and make fists ripping it apart and throwing it away, you're even faster to take out my jeans and leaving me on my boxers, that's the one good thing about me, I can see how your eyes lit up as you see how hard me fat cock is for you, you bite your lower lip and I pull you back up from your knees.

Time for reminder number two, the settee, I pull you up, and you sit in my arm until I put you back to the ground gently, I have to let you know that I was here, I need you to know how good I am, no other man could please you like that, I pull your leg up while you hold yourself up with the other, your pussy is so fucking wet my cock slides inside you so easily, I can feel the electric shocks that run all over your body, "Hard, please" You whine, I'm going to show you what hard actually is.

My hips thrust inside you so roughly the settee moves out of place, your nails dig into the cushions as I keep railing your tight hole harder, and you scream like bloody murder, I hope your neighbors don't call the police, I hope they can see how hard you're getting your cunt fucked, I want everyone that walks by to hear you, "You wanted hard babe!" You moan and scream, and keep getting your pussy pounded like meat being beaten up to get it tender. I dig your head into the pillows.

"Don't... d-don't-" Don't what?

"I can't understand you, babe, can you repeat that for me?" You pant trying to catch your breath, and your legs are numbing up, and I can see they've lost some strength, "Do you want me to stop, because I can" As I saw you didn't make a move, I began to pull out but you stopped, digging your nails into my wrist.

"Don't stop for fucks sake" Now for the next one, I stay buried inside you like that, you keep trying to fuck yourself into me cock but I just won't allow it, I pick you up once more, and your legs around my torso, and you press your warm chest against mine, I lean back against the giant bookshelf next to your bedroom door, you hold on into the shelves for leverage while I drive my cock inside you, your pussy feels so tight I wish I could let this last forever, I'll make that pussy mine.

"You want more, babe?" You hum and gasp, yes of course you do, you're loving every single inch of me cock, "God you look so beautiful with your mouth opened like that," I lick your bottom lip, "And that little cunt of yours is so wet for me, you're just making things harder for me..." I pushed meself too hard inside you, the shelf shook, and something hard dropped to the ground but you ignored it, you've lost yourself in my touch, and I feel embarrassed for dropping something. Your inner animal wakes up as I throw you into your bed.

I crawl on top of you but you gather up your strength to flip me over, I didn't expect that, you've taken the lead and I want to see you lose control, you writhe your hips into mine, your eyes facing the roof, and your mouth wide open, your hair falling into your head, you looked possessed, but you had lost the power to think about what you were doing, "For fucks sake" If you keep moving like that, you're going to make this end sooner, and I've already planned everything out, I try to sit up but you hold me down, chocking me so hard that it's almost impossible to breathe for me, but I love that feeling, my head feels light, my vision is blurry, but I'm not going to give in to you, I already have, you have got to give into me.

I flip you over so harshly, your head almost slammed against your headboard, "Listen to me you fuckin' cunt" My harsh tone makes your core shake, "You ain't the one on command, now... I don't wanna repeat meself" It's arousing you, I can feel it in between your legs, you're shamelessly getting wetter, "Don't make me repeat meself again" You love to play with me, I see that naughty little smile curling into your lips.

"You already did" You like to pull on my hair, don't you? And you will pay for that.

"Don't fuck with me" Your eyebrows push together and your little smirk makes me go mad.

"You know I love to" Love? You "love to"? Does this mean that you might love me? Even just a tiny bit?

"You do, huh?" I begin to rock my hips against yours, slowly, passionately, like a slow and steaming dance, I see your fingers grasping the sheets making hard fists, "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into" And I'm not lying, you really don't.

"Show me Alex" You whisper to me those three words so sexily, charmingly, I've already lost my mind.

"I'll show you how a real man fucks you, babe," Your oozing with the thrill, "I'll show you how to behave... you little fuckin' cunt" Your mouth opens to moan and I take advantage of it to spit inside your mouth, both my hands chocking you, "You're mine... all mine"

"I'd love to" You whimper, "Make me yours please... please just do, I want you Alex" You keep asking me that with your little weak voice, your body that speaks to me, I can read it so easily, it tells me that I'm doing exactly what you want me to do, it shivers, and it quivers, and it sweats, it screams, it tightens, it stiffens, in your eyes I can feel your fast heartbeat in my fingers, and it goes just as fast as mine, my body against yours sounds like I'm butchering you, your neighbors must think I'm holding a knife against your throat, but it does go as deep, it does penetrate and it hurts you in the most magnificently and pleasingly way, your eyes red shot, and your voice gets quieter, shit, I'm losing you, I am.

"Wake up, wake up!" I scream to you, my hand patting your cheek lightly, your pulse is barely detectable, I slap you across your face and you gain back consciousness in the blink of an eye, I didn't want to do it, I would never do that, but when your lips curl into your devilish smile, I know see how you really are.

"Do that again Al" You tease me, I love it when you call me like that, no one ever really does that anymore, is that my new nickname? Al? You're going to remember me forever babe, I hope you do, and tomorrow when you wake up, I'm still going to be there, I'll make your breakfast, and I'll do anything you ask me to do, even dishes, you won't pick them up.

"You're mad, woman" You giggle, and you try to pick yourself up, I can't let you, I did knock you over completely, my hand very gently caresses your cheeks, it's red and fragile, it must burn or at least sting, "Let me do the kissing for now, babe"

"And the fucking too perhaps?" You smile at me, your cute little button nose is flushed, your cheeks and chest are red, your nipples are hard, it turned you on to this point, you're dark, what else are you not telling me? "I'm crazy about you" Those words will echo in my head for the rest of my days.

I take no rush into fucking you, I'm not just a guy you'll sleep with, I'm your man, and I wanted to make sweet sweet love to you, but you won't let me, you like it rough, hard, fast, I don't want this moment to be over, at least not for me yet, you can cum as many times as you like, and like the real man I am, I am profoundly true to the saying 'Happy wife, happy life'

I hug you close to me, that's the least I can do, if I'm going to lose control, let my heart tell yours how much I love you, even if you dump me like a puppy, I'll stay loyal, I'll follow your scent everywhere, I will forever remember the scent of your vanilla hair, your Dior perfume, and the golden necklace around your neck, I counted 15 moles on your body, even the one in between your legs, my hands grab your hair into fists as I pound you harder and harder, you're losing your mind and I'm losing control again, your bed squeaks so loudly and the headboards slams against the wall so harshly, but I don't stop I can't stop now, I can feel you, I can feel it coming, you bring yourself to an end again, the palm of my hand slowly adds pressure on your lower belly, to ease you up, the bed keeps squeaking so annoyingly, and even after we ignored the several warnings, the legs of your bed broke and your headboard fell to the ground, we both break into laughter.

"Oh God!" Your little laughter is so bubbly and funny, it makes me smile and feel so ashamed at the same time.

"I'm so sorry, I'll pay for that" You rub the tip of your little nose against mine, and look at me tenderly, your fingers caressing the back of my head, if only you could see the hearts in my eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous... you know, I've never broken a bed before... you're not going to be easy to forget batman, I hope you don't disappear into the night soon" I'll get you off first, but there's one thing you should be certain of.

"I never intended to" Was that too much? Sorry if that was too much, maybe it was... maybe it wasn't, I'm having a hard time reading your face right now, you're looking at me very seriously, I don't want to get my hopes up, but you're killing me, I should focus now, finish the deed, "But I'm still sorry about your bed though"

"Shut the fuck up, and keep fucking me" Whatever she wants, whatever she wants... You're already the song on the radio I got stuck in me head.

I pull us closer to the safest edge of your bed, toss your legs over me shoulders, and bend them over, I lean over and pound the living shit out of you, I was balls deep inside you, and you like it, so much that you dig your nails into my back, scratching my skin until red and bloody, I don't care how much it hurts, leave as many marks as you want, the deeper the better, my hair falls over my forehead and you make the kindest gesture, your brush it back with your long nails, even if by now I'm sweating like a pig you keep bringing me closer to you, I can feel the light tingles of you breathing in me face, of you biting down on my golden chain making laugh, making me go insane, I keep pushing harder, and you throw your head back, almost letting go of me, but I won't let you, I'll send you to heaven if you want, but don't leave without me.

"Oh, Alex... I'm so close, please..." Your eyeballs turn into beautiful glossy pearls, and you crumble down into pieces as you coat my cock in your warm release, I can feel your walls pushing it out and running down your cozy hole, I stay buried inside you, watching your mouth fall open and choke out your last orgasms, they spin in my head like a tiny little music box, "You're next, Alex... you can't end things like that... you know how much I want it, you already did so much for me" Wait, what are you doing?

Your hands run up my chest, and you massage my shoulders, "You really want me to breed you, you greedy little fuck?" Your hands go down and you massage my balls, Jesus, you really do, I bet you're not even aware of what you're doing to me... or are you?

"Yes Alex, use it... use me" You know exactly what you're doing, I drag my cock out just rimming your walls once again, I better start warming you up, but you don't want that now, you're thinking about me, about what I want, you deserve a little star on your forehead for being so caring, a man and its needs, it's nothing compared to your needs, and I bet you needed someone to get you off correctly.

"You're mine... I want you to say it" I promised to you since the beginning, I won't stop until you're mine, "Are you mine?" I look at you with my big eyes full of hope for you to say it, please tell me now.

"I'm yours Alex" My lips taste your mouth, your tongue dancing with mine. You're made of the sweetest poison

God, I remember that time I was watching through your window, that night you were laying down on your settee, your hand was vigorously and shamelessly rubbing your clit in circles, fucking your little cunt with two fingers, rocking yourself into your touch with the desperate need to rub yourself against something hard, just like you were rubbing yourself against me hard cock. You keep squeezing my balls, your hands sneak into my ass squeezing it gently to keep me going, you love having me right at the edge of ending it all, I can't keep it up for another moment anymore, you're big stary eyes, your little sparkles, your touches, the smell, the noises, you're begging for me cum, I slam my fist next to your head, dragging your body up as I push myself deep inside you and coat your walls in me creamy cum, you're pure bliss as I feel us both coming together, a gorgeous after bliss surrounding us, you have this certain smell, a certain heat, and you're just so beautiful with your cheeks flushed like that.

"Let me clean you up, it's me mess, just lay down" You nod your head, laying gently on your broken bed to not let it crash completely into the ground, you point your finger telling me where the toilet is, and I rush there to grab a few paper towels and clean your skin softly, soothingly, I can feel you relaxing, I can smell my body in yours, the smell of my cologne, your almond oil, and your pheromones. And when I'm done you grab my hand and I can see you thanking me for even that tiny gesture, that's nothing you should be thanking me for, that's the least.

"Now the question is... where are we going to sleep?" We? You want me to sleep here, with you? You're not quicking me out, or at least not yet, this is my chance and I would be lying if I didn't say I was the luckiest man alive.

"Maybe the settee would be a nice place" Your gorgeous olive green settee, corduroy, soft, and marked, I can see you smiling at the space in between your two cushions, I see your giant ivory bookshelf, another mark. I lean forward to pick up what I had dropped when we assaulted the shelf, but it wasn't one of the thousands of vinyl records you've got organized by letter, it's a case... a guitar case. I didn't know that about you. Tonight made me realize that you're a hat full of surprises, the deeper I search the more I find.

"Want some food?... I've got some nuggets and fries... and-" You close your fridge and turn to look at me, "Oh, you know how to play?" I nod my head, trying to stay as noble and humble, you smack your hand into your forehead, "Of course, you do," You sigh and I can hear you whispering to yourself, "Stupid question"

"And do you?" You hum as a yes, interesting, I bet you do, but why do you hide your guitar like that? As if it was buried in this beautiful world with music, colors, words, and meanings.

"I did..." You turn on your air frier and toss some nuggets and fries in there, I'm so happy that you're not like one of those crazy keto girls, you pour us some fresh orange juice as you keep talking to me, "But you know, my mom always told me 'that's just a hobby', and when I moved here I hoped to find some people that wanted to share this fire to try to make some music... but I never managed to, and then I just gave up"

"That's a bit sad, love... you shouldn't have" You lean over the kitchen countertop, amazing reminder, I see you smiling over the edge of your shoulder, but you turn to look at me as you pick up some of our clothes, and then you run into my shirt and you decided to wear it as your sex shirt, you look beautiful, "I mean, being a music producer and making it was hard, but it was even harder to follow something I'm not passionate about" That's what's wrong, you didn't follow your passion, that's what you're missing, "Have you got any songs?" Your face lights up but it quickly slips away, and the redness crawls into your face, What? I'm trying to help you, I want you to be happy with me and with your life.

"I can't accept that" You quickly answered, your head said no but I know you want this, it's served on a silver platter, why can't you let your reserved self accept this?

"Accept what? I haven't said anything, I just asked if you could sing for me... I know you have a lovely voice" You laugh sarcastically at me, leaning over to fetch your guitar, and searching for a notebook on your vinyl shelf.

You sit next to me, legs crossed, guitar on your lap, naked with just my shirt on, your knees holding your notebook as you search for the perfect page for me, you make sure that your guitar is tuned before you start and your thumb softly strums down the notes, making a lovely rhythm, and only two chords, C and Em, your voice sounds like a million angels, and I feel like a lost man after serving the purgatory, your voice is so hauntingly beautiful, your lyrics are very forward, and I'm happy to know through your lyrics how truly you feel about things, you don't search for big words you choose the right ones, you're bold, and you're wise, you try to put an end to your complicated feelings, your questions, everything, all in one song with a few strums and two simple chords.

"That's all," You say putting your guitar next to you, I'm blown away, "I know I suck"

"No!" I answer immediately, "You don't... I think it's beautiful"

"You're just saying that because..." No, I'm not just saying that because I want to fuck you, no not at all, don't you ever believe that.

"I'm saying that because I think you've got it, and you don't want to quit everything to live your dream, I know it must be difficult... but I'm being truthful, you've got summat and we can work on it" Why do you keep saying no with your head? Stop that, if I could rip it off right now... no, don't think that, "Come on, I'm not takin' a piss" You break into laughter with me, throwing your head back, you jump up the moment your oven dings and you run to flip the nuggets and the fries, putting 10 more minutes into the oven.

"Takin' a piss" You laugh to yourself, "Well, if you're not takin' a piss" You imitate my accent and it sounds so silly when you try to do it, "I'm not accepting your help Alex, you have your own thing, and if I'm going to do this, I have to do it on my own," Perfect, I'll take that.

"Why don't you go to Panda's next Saturday? They're looking for some people to play some music, any style, any theme, you can do whatever you want... I'm sure everyone will love you, and you know, there's always someone on the hunt for summat fresh!" I see you thinking about it, I'm not saying I'll help you, I'm just offering the start of something great for you, this is it for you. And yes, I am going to get you the best deal you could ever imagine, but first I have to run things through your notebook, I secretly hide your baby pink notebook, your initials written with a black sharpie, and I stash it in between the cushions.

"I'll think about it" I'll think about it. I hope you do go, I can't wait to see you singing for everyone, you will charm them, "Dinner is served me lord" You're also a dork, just like me, imagine all of the jokes we can make together, they'll be endless.

"My! Thank you, very kind" Dinousor nuggets with a side of fries, the melancholic feeling of your childhood must be present every single day, you squeeze some Ketchup into my plate, squirting into my chest.

"Whoops! Let me clean that for you" You lean in, sticking out your tongue to lick off the ketchup from my chest, "Eat up!" I'm in love with you, "And then we'll get on with that" You look down, and I do the same, shite, look what you do to me, you make me get so hard like a little boy hitting puberty.

"Bugger" I whisper under my breath, you heard it since you giggled, "You know, I think the food can wait right?" You push your plate away and you immediately crawl on top of me, kissing my lips so tenderly, caressing my chin with your fingers, and enjoying the texture of the little hairs that are growing on me cheeks.

"Mmm ketchup" You laugh into the kiss, and our teeth collide accidentally, and us by casualty, "You taste yummy"

"Imagine yourself" You blush hard, something tells me no one has ever made you feel that good about yourself, and that's because no one will see you with the same eyes as me, you're my girl, you will be, I try to flip you but instead you stop me, have I done something wrong?

"We're not going to break this couch, I love this fucking couch, you understand that?" You firmly said, your eyes threatening to kill me if I do as such, "I'm on top" I squeeze your ass tightly biting my bottom lip.

"Whatever she wants... but if I broke the bed it's 90% your fault," You scoffed and laughed as I peeled my shirt from your body gently, making sure I don't break more buttons so you could keep it, "Because you feel so good, and maybe you could be on top, but I know sooner or later... you'll be the one giving into me" Quite intense, wasn't I? Fuck!

"But for now, it's me who calls the shots, so if we break this... it will be 98% your fault, how do you like me now, smarty?" You secure your arms around my shoulder, I pull you in, chest on chest, as I give myself a few more strokes before you slowly slide down my cock, moaning so gently, I like feeling every part of you, I can see how your body twists and shivers when I hit that sweet spot.

"How do you like that?" I rub it in your face, how good I'm making you feel, "I guess one round just wasn't quite enough for you," You start humping on my cock slowly, you're just teasing me again, but I enjoy feeling your body move against mine, your little cries and moans, everything piles up in me, I know this time I'll enjoy you, picture you going in slow motion, I can feel your rapid heartbeat, I can feel the heat wave that raises and wrap us in, I can feel your body begging to mine to stay as close as possible, because that's what your body and my body want, we smile, we laugh, and I fall deeper in a hole full of love for you, and I'm no donkey to use the dirt to get out, I rather stay buried deep inside you just like now. Your body is tired, it's been two hours since your legs worked for the last time, and you beg for more into my ear.

"You're so good, I-I don't understand" What don't you understand, babe? Your fingers intertwine in the back of my head, as you writhe your hips to mine, our bodies dancing together so wonderfully, your hips move in circles against mine.

"Neither of those assholes could ever come close to me, I'm a real man..."

"And you've got the size" You flirt with me so shamelessly, your walls keep dragging me in, your head falls into my shoulder, you're giving into me, fading into me, and it's me time now, I finally get to give you what I wanted since the beginning, make sweet and honest love to you, my hands on your thighs I keep driving your body against mine, I gently bounce you on me lap just to get you to stay up again, you're eyes are shutting, your mouth is falling open again.

"Look at me" I order, and you do what I tell you to do, you look at me towards your end, I hope you can read it in my eyes, I hope you can feel how warm the flesh is, how my eyes, my brain, and heart have no space for anyone else but you, how mad you've made me, I'm obsessed, and I'm not going to lie to myself about it anymore, I don't want to just use you, I hope you can see that, but if you can't, I hope this is enough for you to understand it, my eyes big and dilated for you, my body feels so stiff, it's overwhelming, "You're so beautiful, love"

"If you keep calling me that, you're gonna make me fall in love, Alex"

So I'll say it every single day for the rest of my life, you feel so good on me, your body fits into mine so perfectly, and I'm so close, and so are you, the flesh is tender, the flowers bloom, the sun rises and it's heat rains all over the world, and you and I bond together for one last time before your body crashes into mine, I make a mess, but that's a bit on purpose, "Ah, yes" You sigh into my ear as you let it rest on top of mine. I have the chance to clean your body once more, to clean you up with care and love, my touch is so gentle your body fills with goosebumps, "You really don't have to Alex" You put your hand on my hand, and I freeze, should I stop? Am I making you uncomfortable?

"Sorry... if I'm doing too much" Your eyebrows push together and before I can get away you drag me back by my wrist and smile at me. What do you think of me?

"No, I'm just..." You sigh, you're troubled by your thoughts, "Not used to the 'aftercare' part that's all, you know, sex for us girls... it's not like we see it in films, or read in books, maybe I don't have that magic to turn a beast into a prince, and... I just I dunno, I don't feel weird... you make me feel special, normally, they just leave" Are you... maybe falling for me?

I smile at you, my thumb grazes your cheek softly, "I'm a man, and I'm messy but I just don't like doing that there's an attraction, and if we have sex, unless you ask me to leave I'll leave" I put away the paper towels in the trash, and when I come back I find you waiting for me with my shirt on your body.

"Well, if that's the case" My heart pumps one thousand miles per hour, I feel I'm entering a trance, about to puke my intestines out if you ask me to leave, "You don't mind staying?"

Fuck yeah! "Not at all" I try to keep me cool but I just can't, my heart betraying as I lay down with you.

After we finally had the chance to close our eyes, the sun peeks through the curtains of your windows, the sky painted orange and ocean blue, you smile at me, and you get back up from our little love nest that was the settee, you're quick to find the vinyl with the song we were listening together, the song we kissed to, the perfect song to watch the sunrise.

"Come with me!" I've never heard you so excited before, you run to the kitchen and fetch my boxers from the ground, and I'm a bit troubled by the thought of me wearing my jeans with no underwear but I do nevertheless because I would kill to see you like that every single day.

I cover my body with my coat, and you grab my hand, we run out of your house, and we go through this tiny little white gate, into a garden covered in green chasmophyte, that's the place where the flowers bloom in little boxes of dirt, the perfect place to see the sun, the perfect place to hide, to dream in, it's wonderful, you pull out a chair for me in this old rusty table, you find place to put your music and we listen to Call It Fate Call It Karma as the sun rises from the horizon, I pull you to my lap, wrapping your legs around my arms and hum the song to your ear, the birds are chirping, and the sun warms us from the once oh so cold night.

"You're a lovely singer," You say to my ear, I was never one to watch sunrises, I haven't done that since I was 17, and now with my busy life, I finally get to taste this little piece of paradise that you've given me.

"Not as good as you, bunny" You kiss my nose with a big smile, and I take out from my jeans a box of cigarettes and my old zippo, you set on my smoke, and you love to play with my zippo as your hands run through my naked skin, you love playing with fire, don't you? I just hope someday, you don't get burned in the fire of my love.

A/N

Anon, I want to kiss you. You don't know for how long I've been trying to figure out how to write this chapter, I had to watch You again but it was totally worth it, so thank you!

169 notes · View notes

zilabee · 1 year

Text

Just stumbled on this brilliant post over on Meet The Beatles For Real. It's a german article in Bravo Magazine interviewing the women that worked at Apple. The wonderful keeper of mtbfr then typed the whole lot out and google translated it into english - all love to her for the wonderful work she does on that site.

I've not copied all of it over here, just my favourite bits... but that is most of the bits.

Janet Lumley - Kitchen maid (16) I have been cooking for the Beatles for half a year. It is fantastic. I cook just as carefully for the four of them as I do for my own family. John is the pickiest, he is vegetarian. Paul is the hungriest and has even brought his plate back to tell us how good it tasted to him.

Sally Burgess - Press Secretary (21) John, Paul, George and Ringo only have young, funny and talented people around and it flatters me to be a part of it. Although we work hard, the atmosphere is casual and fun, better than any other company in the world. And every day something new happens. You must learn to quickly adapt to any situation. Once however, it even became too much for me and I just crawled under my desk.

Debbie Wellum - Receptionist (20) I have decided that I have the most exciting Apple job. I have to catch all the teenagers who want to speak to my bosses. Recently, a group of Italian scouts were here, all of whom claimed to be cousins of George Harrison. But I didn’t fall for such a dirty trick. I wouldn’t trade in my bosses for anyone else in the world, even if they had really had so many cousins!

Sally Reed - Secretary (20) I've been a Beatle fan before I started here eight months ago. The four are no longer for me, but I've learned to respect them as businessmen and superiors. I work in the production department; the Beatles are always nice and easy going, even if everything else is wobbling around them. They have a professional attitude which is a very different attitude to these things than a normal human; sometimes I wish I could have some of that.

Dee Meehan - Assistant (25) I have to listen to all the tapes that are sent to the Beatles from people who want to make a career out of music. A tough job, but whoever has worked in the pop industry, knows what is going on, especially if you have the Beatles as bosses. Paul is the best; he always knows exactly what he wants. George and Ringo are always nice and polite, but sometimes John gets on my nerves. But he has improved a lot recently.

Amanda Hull - Tea cook (39) I am responsible for tea and coffee, which is used a lot with us, because Apple is a hospitable house. In a little chamber, I have a two burner stove, on which is always a pot of water and a pot of coffee standing. The tea is always fresh, otherwise it will be bitter. With Paul, I make sure that he does not get too much sugar. This is not good for his future children.

Linda Bristow - Assistant Publisher (22) I work for Apple music publishing. Of course I'm a Beatles fan, but I do not fall into a swoon every time they come through the door. Just to be a fan is not enough for a job at Apple. There is plenty to do and you have to know something too. But as for us, we are paid well and have the best bosses in the world. My favourite boss is George. He is for me the most beautiful thing. But I cannot tell him - because he would be pissed.

Carol Padden - Press Secretary (23) Of course, I'm a Beatles fan. Who isn’t? It's easy to work for such pleasant, young handsome men instead of old thick, bad-tempered men who are constantly, trying to flirt with you. Such a thing does not exist in the Beatles. I have never heard any girls complain that one of the Beatles had flirted with her!

Barbara Bennet - Secretary (24) My best experience with Apple was when Paul gave me a little Yorkshire terrier. He had heard me gushing to a colleague about this breed, and a few days later he had one in tow. But once when I visited my friend Colin Peterson the terrier ran into the city by himself. I never saw him again, although I'd put up a lot of ads.

#I love Sally Reed - “the four are no longer for me...”#(I love that she respects them as businessmen)#I love Sally Burgess - “I just crawled under my desk”#I love Dee Meehan - “John gets on my nerves”#I love Amanda Hull - “Apple is a hospitable house”#(I love her being weird about Paul)#everyone here is fantastic no criticism well done and long live #bravo magazine #the beatles #meet the beatles for real #beatles #apple

324 notes · View notes

browniesarethebest · 5 days

Note

Hi hiii, I'd read your Robin in a nest of bats a while ago, and found it again recently. Its, I'm my opinion, one of the best reverse Robin's au's out there. I'm not sure if it's a headcanon, but pretty much every Damian and Dick fic has damian sometimes calling Dick baba. Could you write a fic where Dick see's Damian as a father figure, and calls him dad in either Romani or Arabic?

Aw thank you! You got it!

Dick believed he was cursed to lose everyone he loved.

Maybe it was an exaggeration, but Dick had already experienced so much loss during his short life. After losing his parents, Dick thought there was nothing left to live for in this world. Thankfully, Bruce had been kind enough to take him in and give him a new family. He had siblings and aunts and uncles...

...and a father again.

The pain from losing his parents would never truly go away, but his new family's presence was able to soothe it, and Dick let himself believe that he could give his heart freely.

He should have known that nothing good lasts forever.

Dick didn't really remember the moment he was told that Bruce died. He remembers screaming and screaming and screaming, but other than that it's a blur. He remembered someone holding him, though he wasn't sure who. He just knew that the arms were strong and warm, and they were the one thing keeping him from falling to pieces, never to be put back together again.

There was a terrifying moment when he came back to himself where he wondered where he would go. He had no trust in the Gotham Family and Children Services, and they certainly had no love for him. There was no way Dick would get a third chance, and he knew that if he went back in their custody, he would certainly die.

Even if it was by his own hand-

Not to mention that Jason and Tim were also under the spotlight. Tim was a little safer since he was 17, and GFCS weren't really looking to find another place for him, but Jason was 13 and also prime for the taking.

Thankfully, Damian fought hard to keep them in the family. Dick had seen Damian angry before, but never like this. He could still see the social worker cowering as Damian ripped into them for even thinking of taking his brothers away. Dick had been hiding behind him, clinging to Damian for dear life. The rest of his family surrounded him, eyes shadowed as they glared at the social worker. The man practically ran from the Manor once it was clear that Damian was not letting them go.

Dick never mentioned the fear he had seen in Jason's eyes that day, and Jason never mentioned it either.

Dick had never really cared for Bruce's money before, but he was thankful for it when Damian hired the best lawyers available. It wasn't an easy fight, but the court was no match against the unstoppable force that was Damian, Steph, and Cass.

Even after being being told that he and Jason could stay with them, the Manor still received random "wellness checks" to make sure that they were being taken care of properly. It pissed Dick off to no end, but Steph explained that Bruce had gone through the very same thing when he had first started taking in kids. It didn't really make him feel better, but he figured that if Bruce had been fine, Damian would be fine too.

Dick's family was slowly falling apart around him. Tim had run off to prove that Bruce wasn't really dead, and Stephanie had followed after to make sure he didn't die. Jason was locking himself up in the library more and more, and he knew that Cass would often sneak in and sit with him as a silent support. Dick found himself gravitating towards Damian more and more, following the man around like a duckling as he put out metaphorical fires and worked on transferring everything to his and Steph's name.

With everyone else either gone or distracted, it was Damian who primarily took care of Dick. Despite how busy Damian was with his new responsibilities, he still made time for Dick. It was Damian who read to him when he asked. It was Damian's arms he woke up in after screaming himself awake from nightmares. It was Damian who held him while he cried for Bruce and took him out for ice cream after to try to make him feel better. It was Damian who made sure he still made it to school and ate three meals a day.

"You must keep your strength up," Damian said, hands on Dick's shoulders. "You have walked through Hell before, and you can do it again."

Dick's lip wobbled, "I don't know if I can. I'm tired, Dami."

His older brother squeezed his shoulders. "You will not be walking alone. You will never be alone again, not if I have anything to say about it."

The tears spilled over. "But you can't promise that! What if you die too?"

Damian's face spasmed for a moment before smoothing out. Dick didn't comment on it, still trying to keep himself together as best as he could.

His eyes widened in shock as he suddenly found Damian's arms around him, pulling him close to the man. He tensed up, unsure what to do.

"This will not be like the circus, Richard. Father and I have made sure of it. I won't say it's impossible that something will happen to me or our siblings, but even without us, you are not alone. Were anything to happen, multiple members of the Justice League, Timothy's Young Justice, and even Stephanie and Cassandra's Birds of Prey have volunteered to step up to take you in."

"Really?" Dick asked, breath hitching.

Damian pulled back, moving his hand up to cup the back of Dick's head. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Dick shook his head, too overwhelmed with love and relief to reply.

Dick knew that Damian was trying his best, going far out of his comfort zone to continue providing care and comfort to Dick. He was putting up such a strong front that it took Dick much longer than he believed it should have for him to realize that Damian was struggling too. Even after all the years living with Bruce, Damian still struggled with showing his emotions at times. Dick knew Damian believed he had to be the strong one for his siblings, but Dick thought the others sometimes forgot that Damian had lost his father too—his biological father.

Dick saw the cracks under Damian's shield one night when he went to Damian's room after a nightmare.

"Dami?" Dick whispered as he opened his older brother's door. Dick had expected his older brother to be asleep, but he was surprised to see Damian already sitting up and jerking in surprise at Dick's voice.

Damian cleared his throat and set something aside. "Ah, Richard."

Dick hesitated at the doorway. "Are you busy?"

Damian let out a breath and waved the boy over. "No. No, come in."

Dick climbed onto the bed and leaned against his older brother.

Damian glanced down at him. "Another nightmare?" Dick nodded silently, and Damian let out a sigh. "You can stay here tonight."

"Thanks, Dami." Dick's eyes drifted over to the item Damian had set aside. It looked like a picture frame. "What were you looking at?"

He felt Damian stiffen, and there was a beat of silence.

"...Did I say something wrong?"

"No! No." Dick flinched as Damian turned towards him. Dick still didn't look convinced, so Damian sighed and picked up the picture frame, holding it out for Dick to take.

It was a little difficult to see with only the light from Damian's lone lamp, but it looked like a much younger Bruce with a very young Damian. Dick swallowed back the sudden wave of tears and studied the photo closer. Damian looked to be about his age and was frowning in the picture while Bruce had a small smile on his face. Dick stared at the young Damian, resting his fingers on the glass above the boy's face.

"This was taken just a few months after I came to the Manor. I was still getting used to being with Father, but we had had a good day that day, and Alfred wanted to commemorate it."

"You look so grumpy. Were you always as grumpy as you are now?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "I suppose I was by your definition. Showing emotion often meant weakness in the League of Assassins, so I was taught to hide them. Even with Father's and everyone else's influence, that never really went away."

Dick beamed up at him. "That's okay! I like you just the way you are!"

Damian's eyes softened, and Dick couldn't help but feel proud that he could make Damian relax. "Thank you, Richard."

They both fell silent as they looked at the picture, before Dick spoke up again.

"Is hiding your emotions why you always call Bruce 'Father?' Did you always call him that?"

"Somewhat, yes. 'Father' is a less emotional word than 'Dad' or 'Tati' as you used with your own father, as well as any other word. It also showed the respect I felt for him as I had been raised on stories about him from my mother before meeting him when I was ten."

"So, you always called him that?"

Damian was silent for a moment. "...No. When I was very young, I would call him 'Baba' around my mother. It is the Arabic word for 'father.'"

Dick blinked before smiling. He wrapped his arms around Damian and closed his eyes, nearly falling asleep due to the late hour. "'Baba.' That sounds cool. Thanks for sharing with me, Dami."

"...You're welcome, Richard."

They fell asleep not long after that, both taking comfort in each other's presence.

Dick thought about that conversation a lot over the next few weeks. He and Damian continued to grow even closer. and Dick had a crisis as he realized he was starting to see Damian the same way he saw Bruce when he came to the Manor. Dick tried to deny it—Damian was his older brother, not a father figure—but Damian had taken on Bruce's role as his caretaker, and Dick could not deny that that had somewhat changed their dynamic.

Dick ended up avoiding Damian for a few days, wracked with guilt about replacing his dad and Bruce. He knew there was nothing wrong with seeing Damian as a father figure as he had worked through this guilt the first time it happened with Bruce (and a therapist), but he still couldn't help but feel this way.

It all came to a head when Dick was injured during patrol. One of Penguin's goons caught him by surprise and got a good hit in, resulting in Dick getting a concussion. Damian had rushed him back as soon as the Penguin had been captured, cursing the entire way. Dick wasn't sure he had ever heard Damian be so vulgar.

The ride back was a blur—one moment he was in the Batmobile and the next he was being tucked into bed by Damian. Dick squinted up at Damian, struggling to figure out what was happening, but Damian was being unusually gentle, and Dick was tempted to just lay back and enjoy it while he could.

"D'mi...?"

"Get some rest, Richard. You are suffering from a concussion, but you should feel better in the morning. I will be here to wake you every few hours to check on you."

Dick hummed. Sleep was quickly claiming him, and his bed felt so nice. If Dick closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that it was Bruce and not Damian. Dick felt a pang in his heart, but he was far too exhausted for it to have much effect.

"'Kay... Night, Baba..."

He heard Damian inhale sharply, but Dick was asleep before he could ask.

(When Damian tried to bring it up the next morning, Dick would have no idea what he was talking about.)

#reverse batfamily #anon #ask #my fic #dick grayson #damian wayne #robin #reverse robins #reverse robins au #reverse batfamily au #i feel evil #but not evil enough to change the ending #batman #batman fic

33 notes · View notes

saltsicklover · 6 months

Text

Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part One of Two

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Creepy Dude, Rhett and Jake rescue reader, one use of Y/N, airports and flying, argument, nothing too crazy, angst

---

To all the people that said finding their soulmate was just so easy, and that they didn't even have to look deserve a giant middle finger shoved right into their face. After all, sometimes people's soulmates just fall right into their fucking laps like the divine are throwing them a goddamn bone.

Most of us have to earn the privilege of finding our soulmates. You would think that the universe would have come up with a better system, some way to be sure that you've found exactly who you're supposed to. But it's truly fucking coincidence.

What a goddamn pain in the ass.

Those little words scripted onto skin give only a hint, a shred of an idea that comes with far too much hope and no direction.

In a perfect world, that script would glow when you find your person, or maybe your person would be the one to say them. Maybe there'd be a way to just know that you've found your other half. Maybe the universe could've bloomed with color upon first contact, the whole world coming to life around you. Hell, maybe the fucking ink would itch when you came close, or, maybe it could turn colors, burning like a cinder straight to the skin.

It could have been a name, or map quadrants, an number even...

But no.

All we get is the first thing someone else in our earshot says about our other half. It could be anyone, really, family and friends, lovers or enemies. The universe doesn't care, like it's all one big cosmic joke.

And if you get stuck with something common? You're pretty much royally fucked.

The amount of sorry souls who are stuck with "oh, he's a great guy," or "she's so pretty!" Have to live with hearing that damn phrase over and over again, just hoping that maybe it will lead them in the right direction.

It's sick, really, the whole goddamn thing. Especially because I want nothing else.

"Oh, it's just Bob," is etched deep into my skin, the little letters marking over my collar bone like it's laced with disappointment. There's something about the word "just" that make's me clench my jaw. I can feel the muscle tick as I grind my teeth against each other, feeling the ridges catch.

Whoever Bob is sure as hell isn't just anything. He is everything, and the unlucky bastard who dares say anything different has a swift right hook in their future, or maybe a hard shove, if the mood strikes. Anything that might take the edge off.

Though I haven't met Bob yet, I feel fiercely protective over him, over the way others see him. After all, his heart is worth more than words like "just".

The airport is just a little too dead for 3am, a few too few people ambling around half awake. Those who are here wear dark bags under their eyes, snuggled deep into their jackets to keep the too cold air conditioning from hitting their bare skin. Some pull luggage behind them, kicking it at they go, getting more and more pissed off every time their heel catches on their suitcase. Others talk too loudly on the phone, their cell's pressed to their cheeks by shoulders, by hands, others taking through their headsets.

A sharply dressed man, clad in a brown suit and loafers argues with a woman in a language I don't speak. She is pointing at the board with a well polished fingernail, one that matches her power suit, while the man is shoving his phone into her face. It's obvious they are arguing about their flight, but neither of them seem to budge on their side.

It's comical, really, how animated they are. I wonder if they are soulmates, if they found each other out if the sheer passion and dedication they are displaying. After all, if one has this much passion for a flight, it would only stand to reason that the business of finding their soulmate would be met with equal fever. They are a good match, too. The universe doesn't always deal out people who look like they should be together. Aesthetics clash, personalities not quite off set. But these two just have an air about them- like they belong; also like they are going to miss their flight.

I pass them as quickly as I can, as the anger rolls off of them. It's much too late, or maybe much too early to witness such an argument, and I have to make it all the way down to gate 93. With each step, my duffle bag seems to get heavier, no doubt taking after my eyelids.

Whoever designed the Dallas airport needs to be given some sort of medal for "longest hallways that seem to lead nowhere". With every turn I take I feel like I'm headed further away, but the signs keep pushing me forward.

Almost there, almost there.

Gate 88 and Gate 89.

Gate 90.

As I walk by Gate 91, I catch two men laying on the dirty carpet in front of the lines of chairs. Their forms stand out against the oddly patterned carpet, though they almost look like they belong there. They are waiting in front of a gate that reads no destination. I know I shouldn't stare, but I can't seem to stop the slowing of my feet. I slide one side off my headphones back off of my ear, doing my best to be inconspicuous. I hope to catch a word, a whisper of what they might be saying but their lips are sealed, it seems, neither one saying a thing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I take in their position on the ground. One has a cowboy hat pulled down over his face to try and keep the buzzing fluorescents out of his eyes. His head is balanced on a small duffle bag, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His hands sit on his stomach, fingers laced together. His skin is golden, one of those tans you get from being stuck outside day after day.

He doesn't move a muscle. It barely looks like he's breathing, really. There's something a bit eerie about it, the stillness of him.

The other man, blond with a cropped haircut and equally bronzed skin sits on the ground a few feet from the other. His back is leaned up against the side of a chair, his knees bent. He looks equally exhausted, eyes closed, head leaned back exposing the long line of his neck.

He shivers a bit, the wholeness of it rolling through his body. Though he keeps his eyes closed, his expression scrunches before relaxing again. He doesn't look even remotely comfortable, unlike his stony counterpart.

The pair have very different looks about them, the former all home grown cowboy with still muddy boots while the ladder is clean cut and chiseled. The blond has his hands shoved into the large pocket on the front of his hoodie, trying to starve off the chill that hangs in the terminal.

Not soulmates, that's for sure. Over the years, I have been able to pick out soulmates from just a few calculated but fleeting glances. There's always something about a pair that just reads right, a vibe that they give off when they are finally buzzing together. But one thing is for sure, these two aren't soulmates, the fact that they're even friends feels funny.

It's not an impossible fact, to be sure. The predestined soul mate, the way it's written into the universe, could be anyone. That's part of the difficulty of it, for sure, but there's always something that seems to click. Souls are like metronomes, clicking away, othering ticking, always out of time; until the right person comes along and you're right on time with each other. With this pair, they are just a little too jagged around the edges, too seasoned in their own rights to slot together. Friendship is different- nothing knit into the weave of the universe, there, though it may have been easier if it were.

The moment I make it to my gate, I throw my bag down, by body feeling a bit too much like jelly from all of the travel to hold it any longer. The men are just a gate down, living in their own little bubble. I can't fight the smile that blooms across my face. There's that word, about knowing everyone has their own lives, their own loves. Sonder, I think it is, and in this moment it washes over me.

"Hey," A voice rings out through the quiet of the terminal, over the loudness of my mind. I look up, my eyes meeting a man who must be in his later forties. He's balding on top, glasses shoved awkwardly onto the bridge of his nose. His clothes are a mismatch of dressy and unkempt. A suit jacket thrown over his hoodie, a pair of pajama pants adorning his bottom half. The whole ensemble is wrapped up with the cowboy hat sitting on the chair next to him, crocs on his feet.

"Hi," I nod more than speak, a strange feeling blooming in the pit of my stomach. This is not a man I care to be around. If I keep my eyes down, hands busy, maybe he will get the message.

"Why don't you sit down and we'll have a chat," There's a sort of greasy smile that spreads across his face. A shudder dances down my spine at the sight, gooseflesh breaking out over my already cold body. The feeling of them breathing to life makes my skin go almost clammy, an uncomfortable feeling under my warm layers.

"No, thank you," The answer is curt as I push my duffle just a little further away with my foot. It drags against the well walked carpet, the sound it makes echoing the one in my chest. It's a sort of stuck sensation, what it morphs into, one that I feel with my whole body.

"Oh, come on, what's a little chat going to hurt?" The man tries again, leaning closer to me, sliding to the seat next to him. We are no further apart now than when we started. My foot meets the side of my duffle again, ready to push it once more. Each little move he makes my eyes train on, from the way his hand curls around the armrest to the way he seems to be peering, leering, over the tops of his too thick glasses.

"Nope," I pop the 'P', waving my hand a bit, "I'm not entertaining this any longer."

I stoop down to grab my headphones from my bag, only to have the strange man's hand appear in front of me as he is reaching too. The step back I take is almost involuntary, more focused on getting away from his incoming touch than my things now sitting in between us. The glare I send the man is lacking due to the bubbling fear popping in my chest. I place my headphones around my neck in a shallow attempt to keep my hands from shaking.

"Oh come on sweet-"

"Tommy Grace! There ya'are! Ya'walked right past us, girl," An arm is thrown around my shoulder, warm and lean. I shift my eyes over quickly, mind and body shooting from high alert to a sort of easy when I see the cowboy from the gate over, now standing to my side, folding me protectively under his arm. The feeling of being protected shouldn't feel quite so strong coming from a stranger. However, the way he keeps his hand right atop the cap of my shoulder, his heartbeat thrumming against my other shoulder just bleeds that feeling.

"Oh! Seriously? You must've been hiding," I do my best to play along, instantly feeling a little more at ease as the man across from us looks less so. I can't help but revel in the uncomfortable look on the greasy man's face, as well as the warmth pouring from the cowboy.

"Is this guy a friend o'yers?" The cowboy asks, looking at the man from under the brim of his hat. I can feel the way the pads of his fingers dig into the muscle of my arm, each finger individually curling into the thickness there. It doesn't hurt. Instead it's a grounding point, from him to me and back again. Two strangers bound together if only for a moment.

"Oh, no, we've never met before," I tell him, gazing up at his face. The scruff of his cheek is fuller at this angle, the defined slope of his jaw easily tracible with my eyes. He's handsome from this angle, which I bet means he's even better looking from head on.

"I see, well," The cowboy narrows his eyes, "Your brother'sa waitin' and y'know how Jake gets,"

"Boy do I," I chuckle from the safety of his embrace, throwing a sideways glance to the man who seems to be in some sort of staring match with the cowboy. Their eyes are trained on each other, fighting for dominance over the situation. From the way the greasy man's eye twitches slightly, I know the cowboy must be winning.

"Go on an' see 'em, I'll grab your bag," He is pushing me towards the other gate, a warm palm between my shoulder blades. It's not a hard shove, but the way his hand is pressed firm to my back gives me a clue on just how quickly I need to get out of there. The cowboy shoots me a wink before turning back to the strange man, his eyes narrowing again.

I don't want to see the look in his eye when it's turned on the greasy stranger. I can imagine just how dark those blue green eyes could tint given the right amount of rage flowing behind them. So, I keep my eyes forward, keep focused on just where I'm headed.

Quickly, I make my way over to the now standing blond, Jake. The moment his eyes meet mine he is smiling, the kind of smile that instantly eases my nerves. I wave a bit, my hand not making it any higher than my midsection. I can't help but feel the same tiredness in my limbs that I see in his eyes. There is something weighing us both down, and something tells me it's more than just the travel. More than the overly saturated interactions with strangers and flight attendant served booze.

The moment I'm in earshot, he's already saying hello, opening his arms wide for me. I step into his space, wrapping my arms around his middle. Carefully, almost too lightly, the blond is wrapping his arms around me. It's one of those hugs- the kind you give that estranged relative at Thanksgiving. It's a tad bit awkward from my end, but Jake squeezed me just a little bit tighter as relax against his broad frame and I can't fight the urge to press my face into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

"Thank you," I mumble into his sweatshirt. As I pull back, the blond squeezes my shoulders quickly, a quiet "you're welcome" in return. I peer up at the tall blond, taking in the gentle curves of his smile lines, how they frame his headstone like teeth, polished white and perfectly straight. His tongue flicks over the corner of his mouth, eyes positioned somewhere behind me.

There is something in that look of his, something playing behind the sea glass tint of his irises. It's a sort of mirth, if mirth was more gentle than the definition explains. Maybe it's a fondness for the other man, one that's hidden behind layers of faux dislike and teasing. The pair bonded together as brothers are, all bemused, an oath, blood of the covenant, that they don't remember taking.

As I turn to follow his eyeline, Jake folds me carefully under his arm just as the cowboy had before. Maybe their friendship is stronger than I had originally thought. The way they seem to work in unison to the very clear way they've each folded me into the safety of their embrace. It's different with Jake though. He's more calm, his heartbeat isn't hammering out of his chest. I can scarlessly feel it where our bodies are pressed together.

"Does he do this kind of thing often?" There's a sideways glance shared between us before Jake's chest raddles with a light chuckle. It awakens him just a bit behind the eyes.

"Yes, but we usually know the girl," The humor in his voice makes the anxiety in my stomach settle a bit. His voice is too warm, too kind to elicit anything but safety in this moment.

I can feel the small smile ghosting over my lips, the image of the pair many years younger fluttering through my brain. The cowboy and Jake, rescuing girls in the school hallways, folding innocent girls, with glasses and hair pulled back into tidy braids, into their embrace. There's a sort of teamwork in the way it all went down today, through I missed the progression. From the moment the cowboy tucked my body into his, the intense hammering of his own heartbeat be damned, to the way Jake greeted me with literal open arms. There's so much warmth here.

"And he'd not your soulmate," It's a statement, plain and simple. That get's him laughing for real this time, his whole face coming to life from how his smile overtakes his expression.

"Not remotely," The words make it out a moment later as Jake still fights a bit to catch his breath. "We grew up near each other, down the same county road just outside a forgettable town here in Texas,"

"Escaping while you still can?" I chide, nudging him with my elbow.

"I escaped a long time ago," Jake corrects, a small shrug pulls away his body heat for just a moment before it returns.

"But you're back?"

"Rhett and I are headed to California," The explanation comes easy, and for a moment I wonder why he's even explaining it all to me, but I am thankful to know the real name of the cowboy, "He's helping get me settled in Miramar, new permanent station,"

"Station? Does that make you Army?"

There's that laugh again.

"Naval Aviator," There's no sharpness in the correction, as cocky as it is.

"Wouldn't it be a new port for you then, Sailor?" I nudge him again, playfully. There is something so easy about talking to Jake, his arm folding me into his warmth. Something truly sibling like about it, my place here under his sturdy frame. His protective nature and warm smile, a sort of family for just a few fleeting moments.

"I guess you're right," There's a tad bit of humor in that sentence, but it's hiding behind the tiredness layered in his voice.

"Wait, did you say Naval Aviator?" I look up at him so directly, eyebrows pulled tightly together as I fight to keep a smile off of my lips. "And you're going to Miramar?"

I watch as he pulls his own well groomed eyebrows together in a furrow, his lips curving into a ghost of a frown.

"Yes, Ma'am,"

I can't fight the laugh that bubbles past my lips, the whole thing sounding a bit too sharp, a bit too loud. Where most men are put off by the sound, Jake just looks at me with curious eyes. His tongue flicks over the corner of his slightly upturned mouth, that grin silently begging for me to continue.

"What're you lot laughin' bout?" Rhett calls out, his voice filling my ears.

"Well, turns out my brother," I wink at Rhett now, turning my attention his way, "works under my father,"

If the progression of thought could be clearly mapped through faces with flicks of tongues and furrowing of brows, the pair would have told a whole story in the matter of seconds, of squinted eyes and the pursing of lips.

"Your father?" The pair speak in unison, accents blending together. I can't help but laugh as I flick my eyes between them. Both wear a sort of confused expression, bemused with eyebrows scrunched together, head tilting just so.

"Yes, my father. Rear Admiral Simpson?" I offer the name as a sort of clarification, though it comes out as a question. Rhett's eyebrows knit together a little tighter, eyes darting to Jake for assurance, or maybe it's confirmation. Jake's eyebrows are raised, his mouth slightly agape by the time my gaze slips back over him.

"You're Cyclone's kid?" There's more to it, from the way his mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he catches the tip of his tongue between his perfect front teeth. "Are you Arrow?"

"Oh, hell no!" I can't hold back the laughter, my cheeks no doubt pinking up from the way my smile pushes them out, "That's my older brother, Anthony! He's an Aviator too, hoping to get selected for Top Gun any day now... Though I doubt that they'll send him anytime soon with Dad stationed there,"

Rhett's arms are crossed over his chest, his eyebrows no less furrowed than before. Jake's expression is still scrunched up a bit, but the lines are slowly relaxing with the more information he gets, so I continue.

"My name is Y/N Simpson, but everyone calls me Birdie," I hold my hand out first to Rhett, as I'm still tucked close to Jake, his arm slung over my shoulders.

"Birdie, is'a pleasure," Rhett removes his hat with one hand, shaking my outstretched one with the other. He gives it a quick squeeze before letting go, a kind smile on his face.

"Birdie?" Jake asks, tip of his tongue snug in the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, Birdie. You know, Cyclone, Arrow, Birdie, all things that have to do with wind and flying? My dad and brother both got call signs, but I had zero interest in doing anything with the military, but Uncle Solo dubbed me Birdie when I was tiny and it's stuck ever since."

"Solo? Is'e Navy too?" Rhett chimes in. He scratches at the back of his head, his hat tipping forward into his eyes a bit.

"Sure is. Admiral Solomon Bates, goes by Warlock," Jake stiffens a bit at the name, but relaxes a bit soon after. I bump his hip with my own, shooting a wink up his way.

"Well then, Birdie, it's nice to officially meet you," It's a bad recovery, but he clears his throat and keeps speaking, "I've gotta say, your dad didn't mention he had a daughter,"

"Oh yeah, that's not at all a surprise. You know how Sailors can be, and my Dad is a bit over protective of me. He's big on me keeping men at a distance. And if said man is Military? Ha! Not an ice cubes chance in hell that they'd make it within a hundred feet of me,"

Rhett smirks a bit, eyes flicking from my own glare down towards the floor. I know Jake's arm is still wrapped around my shoulder, just as I know that he is still sparing quick glances over to the greasy man a few yards away. I kick the toe of Rhett's boot with my own, wrinkling my nose at the way he snickers.

"So no soulmate yet?" Jake asks, tilting his chin down to look me in the eye. The question is so full of genuine curiosity and for once I don't feel terrible answering.

"Nope, not yet. Not even a damn lead, but that's okay. I'm a firm believer that it's going to happen when it's supposed to. I'm not in a rush," That last part may be a bit of a lie. I want nothing more than to finally meet the person that's supposed to be mine, mind, body, and soul. Their supposed to be this sort of connection, one that most people who have met their soulmate have only been able to hint at. It's one of those things where words just don't do it justice, even the great poets seem to have failed to find the words.

"Tha's too bad, 'cause I'd've jumped at the chance to take ya ta dinner," Rhett shoots me a wink, his blue eyes twinkling under the stark white lights.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I jest, sticking my tongue out at him. There's another nudge between boots.

"Oh, he does, but he sure does have a knack for finding the prettiest ones," Jake interjects, bumping my hip with his own. I push him back with my shoulder, causing him to finally drop his arm he's had draped around me for the better part of the last twenty minutes.

"Whatever you say," I roll my eyes, "What about you boys, either of you found your better half?"

The way Jake's face lights up at the question gives me the answer before his words can. Rhett is just shaking his head, mumbling a "here we go" under his breath.

"I sure have! Rooster, he's an Aviator too," Jake begins eagerly, "We met like eight years ago? Maybe nine? I'm not sure, but it was in the middle of the ocean on a carrier, and we butted heads better than the best of 'em. I had graduated Top Gun not too long before, and he hadn't been yet, though he went shortly after that deployment. I don't think we would've figured it out if we hadn't decided to-"

"Don't even say it, Seresin," Rhett threatens with a point of his finger, aim fixed right between the taller man's eyes.

"I wasn't gonna go into detail," Jake laughs, though there's a glint of trouble in his eyes, "All I'm saying is that if we hadn't hauled each other into that bathroom stall at the bar and-"

"Flight number 4582, Dallas to San Diego is now boarding Group 1, priority members and military members traveling on active orders," A woman voice crackles through the intercom.

"Saved by the fuckin' bell," Rhett comments loud enough for Jake and I to hear. The boys begin to grab their bags, each only traveling with a small duffle bag. Rhett heads for the gate first, his bag slung over his shoulder, hat in hand. Jake follows after him, his bag clutched tightly in his hand.

"Thanks again you two" I call after them with a little wave. Jake stops in his tracks, turning back around to face me.

"Aren't you coming, Birdie?" There's that cock of his head again.

"Us lowly civilians have to wait until the next group to board," I joke back.

"Not anymore, you're boarding with me, come on!" Then Jake is all but hauling me through the ticket line and onto the plane. Jake throws my carryon into the bin above the row of seats Rhett has claimed and Jake waved me into the same row with a tilt of his head. Without assigned seating, the pair having decided that I'm going to be sitting in the middle seat between them. Maybe I should be more nervous, sitting between two strange men, but sitting here now the only thing I feel is safe.

The whole flight my head switches between resting on either one of their shoulders, sleep evading me completely. I went from tracing the lines of Rhett's hat as it sat atop his knee to counting just how many times Jake bounced his knee.

Part of the way through, he admitted that he's a terrible passenger, had been since he graduated from flight school. Maybe it's a control issue, or maybe it's the surrounding people moving all around the large aircraft. Either way Jake bounces his knee the whole flight. Sometimes he'd wipe his palms down his jean clad thighs to ease the tension and give a slight reprieve to the constant movement.

Rhett snored gently next to me, though he murmured in his sleep just a little. No words ever slipped past his lips, just half cut off sounds and the ghosts of sentiments. He kept his hands folded across his belly, head lulled towards the small window. I hate to admit it, but I admired the long line of his neck as his head was laid against the wall.

Neither man listened to any sort of music during the flight, which struck me as odd. My headphones sat snug over my ears through most of the flight, a folk country playlist thrumming through them.

The flight was fast, in the grand scheme and everyone aboard seemed to be thrilled to get off the plane. This terminal is busier than the last. The early morning traffic of the airport filled with people in suits, both sweat and formal. The boys and I walk side by side by side, making our way through the crowd like a force. Maybe it's the sheer size of the men at my sides, but the crowd seems to part for us.

The trilling of a cellphone breaks up the sounds of the terminal, following us as we walk.

"Jake," Rhett flicks his gaze towards his friend, a silly look on his face.

"What?"

"That's your phone, dude," I nudge him with my shoulder, our bags bumping together. By the time Jake fishes the device from his front pocket, the factory set ringtone has gone silent.

"Eyes up, Cowboy," I warn as we approach the tram. Rhett's eyes flick up just long fast enough that he doesn't trip over the gap. The doors closing behind us quickly, and Rhett bumps into one of the stationary poles in attempt to get out of it's way.

"It truly amazes me that he's a bull rider, since his sense of personal space sucks so bad," Jake mutters, leaning a bit closer to my ear. I can't help but snicker too.

"Bull rider?" The question is met with a nod from Jake as he presses the phone up to his ear.

Jake stands near, phone pressed to his ear with knit brows. The look of concentration on his face is tight, like he's trying to make out a hard to hear piece of information on the other side of the line. He pulls the phone away from his ear as we step off the tram, heading for baggage claim.

They bracket me between them once again, a tall man on each side of me. We share smiles as we walk in time with one another. A little trio formed because one sleazey dude at the Dallas airport couldn't take a hint. Life is funny that way.

They say the universe only hand picks soulmates, decorating skin just to prove that point. I, however, think friends are found in the flick of the same pen. After all, there's magic left over in the spaces between the letters, in the flick of the wrist of the universe. There has to be.

"Long message," Rhett comments, "Who was it anyway?"

"Oh, it's just Bob," Jake informs us. Rhett hums in response, but my feet stop moving. They retreat into the tunnel of my vision, blending in with the other travelers moving around us. Their once recognizable frames, broad and welcoming, melt into the sea of movement. Nothing in my vision sticks out, my brain too busy playing those damn words on loop.

Oh, it's just Bob. Oh, it's just Bob. Oh, it's just Bob.

There's a fleeting feeling in my fingertips from where my bag as slipped from them. There's the far off sound of it hitting the tile. My vision buzzes with people but god, those words are in the forefront of it all.

Oh, it's just Bob.

This moment may be stillness surrounded by the bustle of the San Diego airport. It may be bodies bumping into my own, shoulders connecting as someone passes. It may be one day be a memory of the way my whole body seems to have gone slick with sweat, far too warm and mildly uncomfortable. It may be a realization, both now and in the future. This moment may be the beginning of the rest of my life.

I'm not ready. Not for the future. Not for Bob. Not for facing his friends who must have noticed that I'm no longer by their side by now. I'm not ready for any of it. Not even remotely. I guess it sure wasn't a lie when I told them that I wasn't "in a rush".

The chill of the air hits me as I all but break through the sliding doors, out to the taxi line up. There's shouting, it's far off, covered by those four little words and the beating of my heart. I slide into the back of a taxi, my bag discarded onto the seat next to me. With the slam of the door, the taxi is pulling away from the curb. I press my forehead to the glass of the window, my breath fogging up the sight of Rhett and Jake breaking through the crowd. They stand there, confusion written into their features as they watch the cab pull away.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I squeeze them together. A deep sigh escapes me, the realization hitting me. They know my dad, at least Jake does. And we are all going to Miramar. It's only a matter of time before our paths cross again.

Maybe it wasn't even my Bob, I try and rationalize with myself. After all, how many people in the world are named "Bob" anyway? It's shallow in theory, a sort of knowing feeling sitting heavy in my gut. That was my Bob on the other end of that message; the feeling deep in my chest aches in a way that it just has to be true.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It's only a matter of time before our paths cross again. On base, in the commissary as we grocery shop. Eye contact over fresh produce, hands busy but eyes filled with questions. Or in my father's office, Jake dropping by on business as my dad and I sit on either side of his large desk. Words caught in our throats, my father's gaze wandering between us. Maybe it will be at the bar, our eyes locking from across the room. Questions shouted over the music; over the smell of alcohol.

And maybe Bob would be there too, looking positively like a dream I haven't fully allowed myself to have. He'd be there like the sunshine, glowing and warm and something I just wouldn't be able to outrun. He'd be all smiles and kind hands, wrapping me into his embrace in the same way his friends had.

It's only a matter of time, but I'll run now.

#robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd soulmate au #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x you #jake seresin #rhett abbott #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x you #friend jake seresin #friend rhett abbott #bob floyd angst #saltsickrequests

131 notes · View notes

juicyc0utur3 · 23 days

Text

random hcs w/ near x fem reader!

one of my absolute fav characters

warnings: smut, subbing, cockwarming, angst with comfort

nsfw under the cut

• i would say that you guys met before the kira case, maybe at wammy’s or just through family/friends

• only because i doubt he would’ve been out of the spk building much during the case, and he doesn’t seem like the type to get randomly attached to one of his workers

• keep in mind you work with him and not for him like halle, so you don’t fall under that umbrella

• you and halle are friends, she loves you

• since you stay and work with him, you guys have nights where you sleep over in her room and you guys just talk and have fun

• you and near are such an unexplainable friendship

• like halle and the other workers are so confused bc if he met anyone else that acted similar to you, he didn’t take nearly as much of a liking to him as he did to you

• but he enjoys having you around, even though he’s hard to read

• since you two had always been close, there was never really a time where you were shy around him, unless it was just a part of your personality

• you could easily just go sit by him while he was working and start a conversation with him and hours would speed by like seconds

• i headcannon him to be autistic to some degree, so eye contact is kinda hard for him

• social cues as well, which i think is why he pisses mello off like anytime he talks

• but you don’t see him as any less because of little things like that, which he’s silently grateful for

• asking him out was very fast

• the whole exchange was maybe like ten seconds tops

“hey near?”

“hm?”

“can i be your girlfriend?”

“sure.”

• he was happier than he let on though

• your relationship is more on the private(not a secret) side, and all in all it’s very healthy

• you guys don’t go out for dates much even before kira, but you hang out often so it makes up for it

• you play games together, like cards and dolls and hot wheels, he eats that shit up fr

• you bought him a dollhouse or a mini racetrack or something and that was the first time he kissed you

• as for kisses, they’re fleeting and he keeps you on your toes

• he’s never big on pda or js affection in general, less because he dislikes it and more because he’s just never experienced it before

• but you help him soften up a bit, and he slowly grows fonder of little things, like kissing your hands and cheeks

•he loves kissing your hands: wrists, knuckles, you name it and he’s right there

• like you’re cupping his face and he reaches a hand up to move one of yours closer and he kisses your palm :3

• sometimes he’s lonely when you’re outside the building, but he’s never insecure(cough mello cough)

• he trusts you completely and knows that you love him just the way he is

• sex

• oh good heavens where do i start

• sub almost every single time

• ik i said he’s not big on affection but for some reason sex has always been one of his handful of exceptions

• eats pussy like a god

• mans will have you absolutely hooked, obviously giving him space between rounds but never passing up an offer to have any type of sex w him

• first time you two did it he was antsy beyond belief

• anytime you made a sound whether it was good or bad even though they were always good, he’d have to resist the urge to pull away and make sure you were okay

• you never rushed him, but gradually he grew more comfortable with sex and was barely ever nervous anymore

• he has a low libido, but if yours is higher he’ll gladly accommodate for you via overstimulation or vibrators and other toys

• likes head, but is super sweet and will always put you first if you’re both needy that time

• really likes head

• i think he just likes seeing your face, and maybe just the fact that you’re the one giving him head

• he’s quiet, but really easy to hear during sex

• he whimpers fs, and maybe moans a bit further on

• probably into orgasm denial, for both of you but mostly on him

• he can talk really dirty when he feels like it, every word he says during sex seems to have a purpose whether it’s to get you closer or just to tease you

“talk all you want, you can’t deny the mess you’re making of yourself.”

“aren’t you cute, thinking i’m gonna let you get off that easy.”

• he’s smart with his words and studies your reactions so he knows more of what to say in the future

• also he has an rbf but it’s less bitchy but more nonchalant, he only ever really smiles or anything like that after you guys are done because he’s too focused on you to even think about it

• his face during sex is so hot

• he would be into cockwarming and size training, but honestly i think he’d prefer it as less of a sexual thing and just something intimate instead

• sitting on his lap with his cock between your legs, gently stretching you out as you play with his hair and chat with him about his day while he works

• during the kira case, he’d be restless, and sometimes you’d wake up early to find him hunched over and snoring in his chair

• besides basic hygiene(i.e. baths, brushing his teeth) i feel like he’d have some trouble taking care of himself so you’d help him

• when he isn’t busy you guys have mini slumber parties where you wear face masks which he hated at first but got used to and play with barbies and it’s just a nice time

• he likes just being in a room with you, you make rooms good*

• the night after mello came back to the spk to get his photo, he cried in your arms for the first time(might make a fic abt this)

• it was just everything on top of everything, and he wished they hadn’t grown up the way they did because he really did care about him

• you held him close and cradled him in your arms, reassuring him that it was okay to cry and okay to feel, you have no idea how much that meant to him

• he can’t imagine his life without you in it

• listens to mitski, mom jeans, and cocteau twins

• doesn’t listen to music much, but it helps him destress

• likes generic cookies like oreos

*you’re immediately my friend if you recognize the saying

47 notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

Safe Zone | 0.3 | Jake Seresin / Bradley Bradshaw AU

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Warnings: throughout the fic - gore, death, violence and pretty graphic mentions of all things zombie related, love triangle, smut (18+, minors dni), angst etc. A zombie gets stabbed in the eye in this chapter, it’s brief but worth mentioning

…

“That hair’s getting pretty long, Floyd,” Cyclone comments, looking disapprovingly across the rec room at Bob. “It’s out of code.”

Jake looks up from his breakfast. Like code matters anymore. He’s setting up to go and clear a fresh load of bodies from the perimeter, Bob’s long hair doesn’t seem like a pressing issue.

“My wife cuts my hair, sir.” Bob answers calmly, without looking up from his own breakfast. His voice is quiet, but calm. In the beginning, his voice would tremble at the mention of her.

People quickly learned not to bring her up.

Cyclone looks down at his coffee and swallows. The silence in the room feels suddenly much louder.

“Right. I’ll be at the front gate.” He mutters, turning and walking away.

Bob’s wife isn’t dead. He’s the only one that knows for certain about one of their loved ones. She was back in South Carolina when this happened, she’s stuck there, he’s stuck here.

One of Bob’s primary jobs around here is to make and keep contact with the active safe zones around the country. He was distraught for the first week, checking with every camp in South Carolina until she turned up. She’s safe in the Charleston safe zone - but she’s still there and he’s still there.

Phoenix is pretty sure her family are at the Tucson safe zone. Jake’s confident that his parents would have gotten his sisters and nephews safely to the one outside of Austin.

“Easy enough for him to act like everything’s normal - his family’s here.” Phoenix mutters dejectedly, shaking her head. Bob gives her a soft smile for always standing up for him.

Cyclone lived in the area. He and a bunch of the higher ups got their families here safely. They were living in the officer’s building, until Hondo’s youngest daughter’s crying started keeping everyone up and people were falling asleep on watch.

Now, families stay in the west wing, singles get the building to the east. Bob’s in the west for now, but he has a place earmarked in the east for when his wife gets here. She’s pregnant.

“I miss my mom’s cooking.” Fanboy agrees.

“I miss my vibrator.” Phoenix scoffs. All eyes turn towards her at once. She looks up and frowns, remembering her company. She’s the only girl that stuck around when everything went to shit that isn’t in the west wing, “Open your mouth, Yale, and I’ll snap it off.”

Jake chuckles, standing up and dropping his plate into the sink. It’s someone else’s job to clean that up. The sun’s coming up as he crosses base to go and meet his team.

He turns his head to see Rooster coming out of the control tower. Followed by you. You yawn softly and stretch your neck. Your eyes meet Jake’s. His smiles slightly at the way your face drops, knowing you’re caught. Another thing he could tell on you for if he wanted to.

“Mornin’.” Jake calls out, lifting his hand and waving at you. It’s just to let you both know that he’s there and that he isn’t afraid of being loud.

It’s a falsely friendly gesture. Fucking Bradshaw got to you first. It’s fine, he can see the distance between the two of you - you’re practically yawning. Jake hasn’t lost yet.

Rooster gives him a nod of acknowledgement and then looks back to you, ignoring Jake almost completely. Your eyes linger on Jake’s, he shoots you a quick wink as he passes by.

He’s pissed off. Rooster convinced you to sign up, and he’s already trying to take you under his stupid fucking flightless wing. Jake’s glad he’s on body patrol this morning because he’s got a little anger to get out.

“Wasn’t so bad, right?” Rooster asks as he locks the door behind him.

“Was kind of boring, actually.” You tell him.

He smiles, then nods. “You an adrenaline junkie or something?”

You give a soft shrug of your shoulders, “Maybe.”

He stares at you, lips quirked up just slightly. You’re familiar with the look that he’s giving you. He makes no effort to hide the fact that he likes you. The world ended, what’s the point in pretending anymore?

“So, how’d you feel about picking up some shifts?” Rooster asks.

You purse your lips, still unsure. He’s spent the past five hours discussing the pros and cons with you. It would get you out of the room more.

“I guess there are worse ways I could spend my time.” You answer.

Rooster happily takes care of the enrollment for you, and of course volunteers himself to be your trainer. Cyclone insists that any civilians that will be taking on Navy duties will have one on one training — Rooster couldn’t be happier to abide by the rule.

You get started that afternoon. You both sleep off the ache of last night’s all-nighter for the morning and regroup at 1pm in front of the information centre.

Rooster looks you up and down as you reach him.

“Cyclone’s probably going to want you in uniform once you’re doing real shifts.” He notes, standing before you in what all of them seem to wear.

They each walk around in some variation of a navy working uniform. Some of them in the sea coveralls, some of them in military typical greens. Whatever they have, you guess.

You usually stick to shorts and some kind of t-shirt or tank top. That’s about all you can bear in this heat. It feels hotter this summer.

“I’ll drop some by your place tonight.” He looks down at his clipboard as he says it. This is a test. You spent all of last night brushing off his advances, keeping all conversation strictly platonic.

Now, he’s waiting to see if you’ll correct him here. You let it slide. It’s important to pick your battles, and having a tall brunette with pretty eyes offer to go out of his way to bring you uniform doesn’t seem like something to argue about.

Besides, he can swoon over you all he wants — it doesn’t mean a thing to you either way.

“How familiar are you with base? — I see you walking around often enough that I figure you know where most stuff is, right?” Rooster checks, lifting his sunglasses up onto his head as he looks down at the clipboard Hondo gave him.

You take a step closer and crane your neck to look over the checklist. All basic stuff. Arms training is at the bottom of the list — Luke’s going to be so jealous.

“Yeah, I know my way around.” You agree.

He dips a hand into the pocket of his cargos and pulls out a pen, ticking off the first point on the list. The second is shift posts.

“Okay — I’ll start off by showing you where each of the posts are, we can talk a little about what you do at each of them.”

“Sounds good.” You agree again.

Rooster holds the clipboard by his side and walks you through each of the sixteen posts. Everything in base first: the control tower, the warehouse, the food hall - all of the places with the highest traffic.

You pass by what used to be the Top Gun building, now repurposed to be a makeshift highschool class. You squint as you look through the windows.

“Look at that idiot.” You mutter. Rooster turns his head, finding your brother sitting at the back of the class, balancing a pencil above his top lip - he laughs softly. The girl next to Luke giggles and leans into his side.

“Oh shit.” Rooster’s smile drops quickly. He keeps walking and shakes his head, “That’s Admiral Simpson’s kid. You should warn him.”

You frown and look back to Rooster, “Is Admiral Simpson the scary one?”

“That guy.” Rooster points to the front gate. Your eyes focus on the older man, standing at the top of the wall, screaming orders at a young ensign. You wince. Rooster chuckles at your reaction.

“You and your brother seem pretty close.” He comments, walking right by the gate without doing much explaining at all. It’s clear to you that he’s not showing you around because he cares a great deal about the work you’ll be doing around here.

He just wants to get closer to you. You’re onto him every step of the way.

“Someone’s got to keep an eye on him.” You reply.

He nods, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. He figures that it’s probably not his place to say anything - and that even if it was his place, you probably wouldn’t want to hear it.

“So, who keeps an eye on you?” Bradley asks. You turn your head to look at him as he walks you to the south wall post. He’s a little red from being in the sun too long, his curls messy from constantly running his fingers through them. He’s handsome - and that black t-shirt is tight enough for you to be able to tell that his body would be just as pleasant to look at.

Before this, you probably would have gone for him. He’s definitely the kind of guy you would have let buy you a drink and tell you that you’re pretty. Back then.

“I do.” You reply calmly, your chin lifted, looking him in the eye.

Bradley’s lips quirk, amused by your response. “Yeah, but - everyone needs a wingman, right?”

You almost laugh. You stare at him, then shake your head, “And you’re going to be my wingman?” He shrugs his shoulders, then smiles sweetly at you. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that.

Jake’s sitting on top of the platform on the south wall, one of his legs dangling down the outside. He glances down as something nudges his boot. He rolls his eyes. The decaying hand reaches for his ankle again. He looks down and stares into its eyes.

Her mouth hangs open and gaunt, growling dully as she claws at the side of the corrugated metal, occasionally grazing his leg. She’s dark-haired and torn open around the stomach. If Jake had to guess, he’d say that her eyes used to be green.

They dullen the longer that they’re dead. Still a bloodshot red where white used to be, her skin is dirty and flaked with drying blood. He looks up, checking the beach. He’s pretty far from the road blocks. This post is usually just to keep an eye on the coast.

The dead usually don’t make it this far up, he isn’t sure where she came from. It doesn’t phase him. He pushes himself up so that he’s on his knees and pulls his knife from his pocket. He doesn’t have one of those spear things Fanboy made here with him.

He holds the railing to the platform with one hand and leans forwards. Her hands reach up eagerly for his face, broken nails caked in dirt and dried blood extending towards his skin. Jake half-winces at the smell. He leans closer, she just about catches his collar.

Jake’s blade pushes through her eye until it’s submerged at the hilt. She sinks to the floor at the base of the wall. Jake pulls back up and wipes his knife off on the calf of his pant leg.

“Hey, Hangman.”

He turns his head, raising an eyebrow. Rooster lifts his palm and waves. Jake folds the switchblade in half and slips it back into his pocket as he looks between the two of you. No one calls him Hangman anymore.

“Bird boy.” Jake answers back. Rooster laughs. Jake turns to look at you, giving you a nod of acknowledgement. You nod back. “Takin’ the afternoon off, Bradshaw?”

Rooster lifts his official looking clipboard, “Showing the newest member of the team around, actually.”

Jake raises his eyebrows, “You signed up.”

You nod once more, but don’t answer him. He lifts the length of rope from in front of him and pulls it into his lap, biting down on the toothpick as he unties the knot he had made earlier.

Static crackles on Rooster’s radio.

“Uh… Rooster, we’ve got an incident in Block B. Could you get over here?” One of Rooster’s staff calls for his help over channel three.

Rooster turns his attention to look at you. “Fuck - I have to go handle that… uh-“

You look at him and nod. He has this look on his face like he’s willing to let that situation escalate if it means he’ll get to stay here with you. Your brows furrow slightly as you wait for him to leave.

“I can keep an eye on her.” Jake offers.

You look up at him, and then back at Rooster. Bradley gives a small ‘up to you’ type shrug. Jake grins, passing the toothpick between his teeth, “Alright, Trouble - come on over.”

Rooster stares at him for a moment. You grab the ladder and pull yourself up onto the platform, sitting down with your legs dangling over the edge, into camp.

“I’ll be right back.” Rooster swears. You nod at him, then lean back on your palms. You and Jake sit together and watch him jog towards Block B. Once he’s out of view, you turn your head to look at Jake.

You’re met with green eyes for just a second, before Jake looks down and continues to work with the rope in his hands. You turn your head and look out over the coast. You can see it from the window in your room, but it’s been almost three months since you saw the ocean without a window in front of it.

You take a deep breath. You look down, lips parting slightly. Jake glances up, catching you frozen and staring over the edge of the wall. He follows your gaze down.

“You know her or something?” Jake scoffs, shaking his head.

You turn your head and frown at him. He’s smirking. You stare.

“No, but - that’s still a dead person.”

Jake shrugs, “You get used to it.”

You think back to the beginning. The things that you saw in the days before you got here. That sick feeling in the bottom of your stomach burns up your sternum and sits on your chest until the heat of it makes you shiver.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” You mutter, shaking off that cold feeling. Seeing them brings it all back. Jake glances up, cocking an eyebrow at you. He hadn’t been expecting you to be so phased by it.

“Did you lose someone?” Jake asks. He has always been one to put a foot over the line. He knows it’s a personal question, and he knows that it’s a disrespectful way to ask. He doesn’t even bother to look up at you as he says it.

But you did just spend the past twenty-four hours in Bradshaw’s shadow, so Jake figures you won’t mind the coldness.

You take the other length of rope and begin to copy what he’s doing. It’s a sailing knot, and a fairly complicated one at that. You run through his exact movements. Jake watches as you copy him.

“You’ve been here since the beginning.” Jake recalls - you’re in Block C, that was the first block to be filled. That means you got here within the first week. You’re higher up, likely to have arrived within the first four days after the evacuation order. “Did you lose someone before you got here?”

“Luke! Put me down!”

You’re interrupted by a shrill giggle. You both look up in unison as a group of teenagers spill out of the Top Gun south classroom. Luke’s got his arms around a girl’s middle, lifting her off the ground as she squeals.

Jake’s lips quirk as he realises who your brother is holding.

“Does he know who that is?” Jake asks softly. You’re glad that the subject has changed. You watch, unimpressed as Luke sets her back on her feet and drapes himself over her.

“No.”

“Do you?” Jake smirks. He lifts his head and squints over towards the front gate. Beau’s facing the remnants of the city, his back to the mess happening behind him.

“Rooster told me.” You nod.

Delilah Simpson bites her lip, grinning as she shoves playfully at Luke’s chest. Luke pulls her closer again and leans in closer to talk to her. Jake watches the situation unfold.

He could intervene, but after you had yelled at him yesterday, he just lets it happen. He knows that Luke’s going to get his ass kicked if her Dad sees them together.

Delilah blushes as she agrees to meet Luke later that night. He smiles, then turns back to walk back over to his friends without noticing you or Jake watching him.

“Hey, Luke!”

You both look up. Jake’s brows furrow slightly as he spots Rooster walking back towards the grass. Rooster holds up a round leather soccer ball, then smiles.

“Hey, you found our ball!” Luke grins as he walks over to meet Rooster halfway. Rooster tosses it to him, then looks up, his eyes landing on you, waiting for your approval.

“Fucking asskisser.” Jake scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. He glances up to find you staring at him.

Your lips are quirked just slightly. He’s surprised to find you amused by the comment. You’re about to smile. The corners of your mouth hint at a grin, then falter as you compose yourself, looking back down as you focus on tying the knot that he’s showing you.

“Oh, you liked that one?” Jake notices, his own lips quirking slightly in response. You don’t answer him, continuing to focus on your work.

“If you’re looking for jokes about Bradshaw, I’ve got hundreds, honey — just say the word.”

“I’m not your honey.” You reply calmly, fingers working nimbly around the rope. You’re getting the hang of it pretty well. Jake smiles at you.

“Are you his?” Jake taunts, knowing it’ll draw a reaction from you to imply that you belong to anyone at all. And it does. Works like a charm. You look up at him, furious at the insinuation.

You notice the smirk of anticipation toying on all of his features at once, not just his lips. Just as much in his eyes. You’re quick to realise that you were about to play right into his hands.

“Maybe if I’m a good girl, he might let me be.” You reply, knowing it would draw an equal reaction from him to imply that you’re interested in screwing his friend. Works like a charm. The amusement slips from Jake’s face, intrigue remains in its place.

He really can’t tell if you like Rooster or not. It’s even more difficult to figure out how you feel about him.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Jake decides, after six attempts of watching you tie and loosen it just fine. He moves forward and takes the rope from you. It’s an excuse to get closer and remind you that he knows what he’s doing and you don’t.

You watch calmly as he does the same thing over again. You mimic his movements and wind up with the exact same knot as before.

“That’s better.” Jake lies. It was already fine to begin with, but now he knows you’ll follow instructions.

…

@shawnsblue @cowboybarbie @perpetuelledaydreaming @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @laluneveillesureux @cherrycola27 @momc95 @abaker74 @footprintsinthesxnd @ohtobeleah @bioodforbiood

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #top gun smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin au #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #safe zone

386 notes · View notes

oblivious-idiot · 1 year

Text

London Calling

George Karim x gn Reader

Summary: You and George met while working for Fittes, you now end up secretly helping Lockwood and Co on cases. George has big fat crush and gets flustered.

Warnings: Fluff, spoilers to the season finale, swearing

Pairings: George Karim x gn Reader

Word count: 1.4k AN: I'm pretty sure I wrote this gn, but there might be a few slip ups here and there!

Back before George Karim worked for Lockwood and Co. he was working for Fittes, which is where he met you. The both of you worked on cases together and it was obvious that you two had become close - the sarcastic comments being thrown about by the two of you was enough of a sign.

Over a year had past since George left you with Kipps working at Fittes, not that you could really blame him. But every so often he’d use his little Karim charm to get some information on a latest case, because he knew that you wouldn’t say no to him, but he also used it as an excuse to see you again. He wouldn’t admit it, but George had a crush on you, and it had become so obvious that even Lockwood and Lucy had noticed.

Even with Lockwood and Kipps’ stupid bet on who could find the Bone Mirror first, you’d already started to help George and his team on cases and you wouldn't stop now, plus it would break you to see him lose his job you knew he loved. You didn’t plan on telling Kipps that you were helping George, obviously, he’d kick you from the team if you did, but it was a risk worth taking, and god knows Lockwood and Co. needed all the help they could get.

You were there when Lockwood and Kipps made their bet, if you rolled your eyes any harder they'd fall into the back of your head, but that case had been and gone now, even if you're still angry at George for what he said about himself, how he felt as if he wasn't needed. You needed that boy more than he would ever know.

A few weeks had passed since the Bone Mirror case and George is researching in the archives when you see him. You're off duty so you didn't have to wear your retched Fittes uniform, the thought of George wearing it still makes you laugh. You catch his eye from across the room and he motions to you to sit with him.

"What are we working on today Georgie?" you say as you slide down next to him

"You know, if you're so adamant on working cases with us, you should just join the agency" he says as he scrambles the papers into order for you.

You smile at his attempt to organise, you both knew the boy worked best amongst the chaos. "And miss out on pissing off Kipps and Barnes to sneak out with you? You would rid me of my happiness?" you laugh and elbows him playfully, he starts to go red in the cheeks.

You meet his eyes "You know I would George. It's not been the same working here since you felt. They really makes you feel disposable" you mutter out the last part, hoping he doesn't hear you.

George quickly adjusts himself and begins explaining the case to you. It seemed simple enough, a family had just bought a house which a Type One still resided in, so they agreed to the case - he made sure to mention to you how it took Lockwood some persuading, you both knew the boy was stubborn at accepting "easy jobs".

You arrived at the house before George, Lockwood, and Lucy showered up. It was still light so you pulled out the book in your bag you’d been reading about the Problem and just read until they arrived. One of the things George loved about you was the fact you were also interested in the Problem, he felt like he could talk to you for hours about the whole situation.

Once they arrived, you stood up to greet them - Lockwood and Lucy looked at each other when they saw your outfit, which if they didn't know any better, had George Karim written all over it. Under the scruffy leather jacket you wore, a pale green plaid shirt was visible along with an oversized band shirt tucked into your jeans. George looked a little flustered when he realised you still had the shirt you'd stolen when he worked for Fittes.

You all came together and set out the plan of what to do. You and George would set out on finding the source for the Visitor, while Lockwood and Lucy would keep it at bay.

You can’t say it exactly went to plan the way you wanted it to. Lockwood hadn’t gotten around to buying more supplies, so the team were all short on flares and salt bombs more than you would care for.

On top of all that, the Type One was more on the side of being a Type Two, making it a lot more unpredictable. George managed to find the Source, which was an old jewellery box, but when he moved the box it called the Visitor to his location. When you saw the ghost out the back of your eye, you called to George, but by the time he heard you the ghost tossed him across the room and away from the box, knocking all the air from his lungs.

Just as the ghost was closing in on George, you rushed to his side, rapier in hand, and managed to keep it at bay until Lucy threw a net over the Source. Your rapier dropped to your side as you helped George sit up and gather himself, he could see the look of worry in your eyes and grabbed ahold of your hand to let you know he was okay.

"George Karim, you are the most oblivious ghost hunter I know" you say, finally letting go of the breathe you were holding

He lets out a soft chuckle, his features soft as he looked at you. "What would I do without you y/n?" God he'd fallen hard.

"You'd be dead or had the Ghost Touch by now if it wasn't for me" you say as you pull him to his feet "and we all know Lockwood would go insane without his best researcher" you smile at him.

Once you and the team had cleared up the scene it had become light outside, you were all clearly exhausted and ready for some much needed rest.

"You should come back with us, to the house" George says to you "to rest up and eat I mean. You know my cooking is better than what you get at Fittes"

Lucy nods to you, you and Carlyle were becoming quite good friends over time. Lockwood just smiles at the two of you "You're welcome at Portland Row anytime y/n"

You spent the night, well early hours of the morning, asleep on a small fold out bed that Lockwood kept in the Lucy's room. George had lent you one of his oversized shirts to sleep in and a blanket. "Just promise you'll give it back this time".

You woke up early and got changed into your dirty clothes from the night before. You found the rest of the team were already in the kitchen, have a discussion that abruptly ended when you entered the room.

George set out four plates of food on the table and you forgot about the unheard discussion when you realised how hungry you were. Once you'd finished, you stood up and grabbed your jacket from the back of your chair.

"I'd best be off, before Kipps realises I'm gone and tells Barnes." you chuckle lightly "God knows he'll fire me if he finds out I've been working with you lot again."

You head up into the hall and grab your kit bag and rapier when you hear Lockwood call for you to wait up.

"George he-, he told us about your situation at Fittes, how unhappy you are there." he paused "I've seen how you fight, your researching skills are on par with George's. You'd make a great member of the team. Permanently."

You look at Lockwood, slightly taken aback from the proposal. "Lockwood I-"

He cuts you off and places a hand on your arm. "Think about it, but the job is yours if you want it. We all know George would be happier for it." He smiles and lets you go.

You nod and head out the door. You smiled at the thought of seeing Kipps' face when you tell him you're leaving.

#allie writes #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #george karim x reader #george karim #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co imagines #lockwood #lockwood and co x reader

255 notes · View notes

ruinedbylanadelrey · 1 year

Note

Hi can I request Joel killer x plus!size reader I was thinking that Joel and the reader are married and the reader is pregnant with their second child their first child is Ellie so maybe one day a new woman joins the town and when Tommy and Joel and the reader are showing her around she flirts with Joel the reader is pissed because Joel is clearly blind to notice she is trying to make some sort of move on him so maybe when Joel and the reader get home Ellie is at Tommy’s house playing board games the reader tells Joel that the woman is clearly trying to sleep with him but he just says the reader is over reacting so he believes his wife because when the woman was helping Joel feed to horses she tried to kiss him but he moved away so he goes home and tells the reader she was right and she forgives Joel.

love this idea! Remember that men are usually oblivious to things. In the wise words of mother Lana Del Rey "Cause you're just a man It's just what you do".

masterlist

warnings: talk of body image, talk of infidelity, joel being a dumb man, little bit of angst, jealousy

Joel finally has some normalcy in his life since making his final home at the commune in Wyoming. He has a house, a part of the community, Ellie, and you, his wife. You and Joel got married when he and Ellie came back from the incident. It made him realize that he wants his family forever, he wanted you forever. You've been with him since the day the world came crashing down. You were just Sarah's babysitter when you came into his life and never left his side since then. Only 12 years between the two of you.

Joel always had feelings for you since the day you first met, your family told Joel that you were looking for some work after your college classes so he brought you aboard to babysit. When he. first saw you his heart stopped. Your fresh face with puffy cheeks is what he liked the most. You were adorable to him, with your curvy body and long hair. How you were just another ray of sunshine in his life.

Ellie became your daughter so fast and easily. Joel admired how you took care of her, making sure she got to sleep, that she was eating, and being there for her as another woman to confide in. You fell in love with Ellie, you thought the world of her. It was easy for you to fall into the maternal role because that is what happened with you and Sarah.

Joel and you found yourselves pregnant soon after you got married. He was over the moon about you becoming pregnant. It wasn't accidental, you wanted to have his children. You've always wanted kids but that was put on hold for 20 years. Now you have your life together, you're married and a mother to Ellie.

Joel has always made you feel like the only woman in the world that mattered. You've always had self-esteem issues and they became more present when you got pregnant. Your body was changing, the weight gain is what got to you. Everyone always told you how even more beautiful you've gotten since you got pregnant.

You never saw what they were talking about. Joel told you every day how gorgeous you looked, he couldn't keep his hands off of you. "You're just saying that because you have to." You pushed Joel off of you as you washed the dishes. "Sweetheart you know I don't just say things, especially to you." Joel felt the distance you were putting between him.

"Joel, I look disgusting. I feel so ugly...anyways I have to get going a new woman came to town and Maria wants Tommy and me to show her around. I'll see you later." You said while drying off your hands and leaving him be. Joel felt like a failure as a husband when you talked about yourself like that. He hated that you didn't see yourself the way he does.

You were not feeling up to be the welcoming committee. Tommy was waiting for you outside with the young woman. She had to be at least 30 years old, she was incredibly beautiful. "This is our sunshine who is married to my grumpy brother and is going to have my next niece or nephew." Tommy introduced the two of you to each other.

You put a smile on your face and shook her hands. "Oh my goodness, how far along are you?" She beamed as you guys walked into town. "I'm about to enter my third trimester." you rub the baby bump for comfort. "I think it's great that you're having a baby..." the young woman started to ramble about how life shouldn't stop even in the messed up world.

You tuned her out because you could care less about what she thought. When she met Joel she made it her mission to get him. She didn't understand why Joel would marry you. She thought that you were just so plain.

Something about her left a bad taste in your mouth and you didn't know why. That was until you saw her talking to Joel one night at the monthly get-together for the community. Her eyes were big and bright when they spoke, Joel was just being nice because she was new and didn't know anyone.

He couldn't be mean to the young woman. You watched her laugh at every he said. You and Joel were in a fight at the moment so you kept your distance from him. It was a meaningless fight, he got tired of you talking badly about yourself and he snapped at you.

You felt your stomach churn as her hand grazes his bicep while giggling like a schoolgirl. That's what you used to do when you first started talking to Joel back then. It was sick how much she flirted with him. She knows exactly who he is. You couldn't watch this happen anymore so you walked yourself home.

"How come there aren't many men like you?" the young woman batted her eyes at Joel. He just chuckled at her thinking nothing of it. Joel tried to escape the conversation multiple times but she kept talking. Joel looked around the room for you but he saw you walking out the door, your head was held low.

"Excuse me, miss. I think I have to go." Joel brushes past her and fights his way to the door. The young woman watched him follow you out the door. She rolled her eyes at him running after you. She didn't get why Joel wastes time with you. You're nothing to look at.

She knew that you guys were in a rough patch, he would tell her about how pregnancy hasn't been easy for you while they worked in the stables one day. Joel just needed a shoulder to cry on. The days Joel and she worked together made him feel a little better because he got to vent for a couple of hours before heading to a quiet home.

You went to the stables to visit Joel before going into town to help Maria with event planning. When you entered the barn you heard giggling and you became sick to your stomach. Of course, she was working with your husband.

You found Joel leaning against the wooden slats and her sitting on the window sill. Her shorts rode up her toned thighs, and her tank top left a little to nothing to the imagination. Their eyes were locked on each other like they were the only two people in the world. Joel had his arms crossed still trying to keep himself in defense.

You quickly turned yourself around and tried to make yourself forget about what you just saw. Jealousy made itself at home in your heart. You never were a jealous person but your emotions were all over the place recently. You noticed that Joel stopped trying to touch you and not talking to you as much.

It felt like he stopped trying with you. Now you know why because he was getting his emotional fill by another. Ellie noticed the distance between you and Joel, you were quiet and not yourself. She would try to put a smile on your face with her puns but all she got was a half-hearted smile and laugh. She and Dina would try to spend time with you but you would them tell to go and have fun.

It was family night once again and everyone was dreading it. You served everyone their plates but you sat there and didn't eat. Ellie glared at Joel because she knew about that new woman, you slipped up once or twice when you were talking with Ellie and Dina and told them about the woman and how you knew something was up.

"Why aren't you eating?" Joel broke the silence and ignored the look Ellie was giving him. You got up and went to go clean up the kitchen. You didn't want to have the conversation in front of Ellie or even have the conversation with Joel. "Ellie go to your room-," "Dude, I haven't finished-," "Take your plate with you." Joel huffed, and Ellie took her food with her. Leaving you and Joel alone.

You pretended to not notice him standing behind you. You hummed a song to yourself and just went about your business cleaning. "Why aren't you eating?" he asked again and grabbed your arm. He spun you around to face him. You looked past him not wanting to meet his gaze. "I'm not hungry and I'm tired." You mumbled, and you yanked yourself out of his grip.

"You need to eat, you need all the food you need." Joel breathed out because he knew what you were doing, punishing yourself. "Why? because I'm a fucking pig that eats everything in sight." You spat and slammed the cabinet shut. "What? You need to eat because you're carrying our baby. I need you to be healthy so our baby can be healthy." Joel didn't want to fight again for the second time that day.

You felt your tears roll down your face, you lean against the kitchen counter and tilted your head back trying to stop yourself from crying. "We don't have to be married anymore if you want to be with someone else...I won't hold anything against you, we can work out a custody arrangement, if you don't want to be a part of the baby's life then that's okay too." You confessed to Joel, he didn't understand where you were coming from.

Why would you say that? Yeah, you were both going through a rough patch but that didn't mean he stopped loving you. "What are you saying-," "Joel, that woman has her claws in you and I'm not going to fight for someone who clearly doesn't want me." You still weren't making any sense to him. He was dumbfounded that you think he doesn't want you. He would be stupid to not want you because you are everything to him. Joel has killed for you, put you before anyone else.

"Baby, I do want you. You're my life. I love you endlessly. I don't think that girl is into me, she's just new and wanted a friend. That's all she is. I wouldn't even call her friend." His words didn't bring you any comfort but you had pushed your jealousy aside before you could ruin everything with him. "Joel, just be careful around her...my gut says she's bad news." Your intuition has always been right but Joel always thought you were just a worried person.

"I promise, now you have to promise to take care of yourself and be gentle with your mind..."Joel brings you into his arms, you felt your body melt by touch, and you breathed in his scent, pine, amber, and musk.

You took in the way he felt against your body. "I just want to be enough for you." You whispered trying to not scare him away. "You're everything and more, now get your fine ass to bed I want to make love to my sweet girl," Joel smirked at you. You were giddy making your way out of the kitchen. You two ran to the bedroom like young lovers.

The next few weeks were going great between you and Joel. Ellie was getting grossed out by Joel unable to keep his hands off you, every time she would enter a room you and Joel were making out like teenagers. "Look I love that my parents are in love but please get a room." she teased. Ellie saw how much Joel made you glow with happiness. It brought her comfort knowing her home is back together.

Joel kept his distance from the woman, and she was not happy with the news that you and Joel have made up. Your due date was getting closer and Joel couldn't shut up about how you were nesting and how he was excited to have a baby. She was jealous of you; you had everything she didn't.

"If you ever get tired of that fat wife of yours, let me know." the young woman pressed herself against Joel, he trapped between the wall and her small frame. Joel didn't want to hurt the woman in front of him but he pushed her away from him. "I'm being very nice by not beating the shit out of you, just remember next time you want to say anything about her, you talk shit you get hit." He spat in her face and made a run for it.

Joel ran to you like a little kid and interrupted your meeting with Maria and a couple of members of the council. "Joel, is everything okay? Did something happen to Ellie?" You got up and walked out of the room with him. He didn't have any thoughts in his head. Joel just crashed his lips into yours.

He needed to feel you and taste you because you were his and he was yours. You kissed him back still not knowing where all this came from. "You were right. You're always right." Joel mumbled into the heated kiss. You smiled against his lips and loved hearing the words 'You're always right.'

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller pedro pascal

205 notes · View notes

queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months

Text

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: Lucifer x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: relationship angst, giving the silent treatment, fluff at the end

Request by anon: I wanted to ask for spn lucifer x reader…they are married she would have been a hunter in the past, but she left the business with him, "giving up" on being the devil, and they actually like live normal life…once she gives him the silent treatment because he was "mean" to sam and dean (they are like brothers), and he just He does little things to kind of get her off her chest so she can talk to him (even if it's shouting), and when she tries to do or fix the little things he did/ or broken but without talking to him yet he just goes to the guys (the brothers, cass and jack) for help and apologizes just to make it up to her!!! (the boys make fun of him but he accepts defeat because not talking to her is worse than having people irritate him

Summary: Your passion is sewing and you love to make clothes and blankets for people, especially the Winchesters whom you consider to be family. When you overhear a conversation you shouldn't have heard, you get pissed enough at Lucifer to give him the silent treatment. Best thing? He has no idea what he's done but he'll try hard to make it right.

Square Filled: never go to bed on an argument for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Three down only ten more to go. You have a lot of people who want to buy dresses from you so you’re slowly making your way through the list of orders from people. You’re only on the first order but you’ve gotten done three of the thirteen items they wanted. Sewing and making clothes and blankets is your dream. You love making things people can wear or snuggle with, and you’ve always had this passion ever since you could write.

You’d draw your designs and show your mom who was also a seamstress for a clothing store. She entertained your ideas and gave you a small sewing kit that you’d use to make your Barbie’s clothes. She was so impressed that she got you into sewing classes as soon as possible. You started off making small things like gloves, oven mitts, baby clothes, and other easy projects before working your way up to the harder items.

Now, you have your own business that is run by you and only you, and you work out of your home. You don’t have the money to buy a big store or hire employees. Plus, you kind of like doing it all by yourself. At least you can look at someone wearing your clothes and say, “Yes, I made that all on my own.” or “They’re wearing an original Y/N.”. You pour love and pride into every piece you make and it shows.

The door opens and your husband walks in with a look of confusion.

“Have you been here all day?”

You look at him like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“I have orders to make.”

“Being in your room all day isn’t going to help you. You need to get out and move around.” You know he’s right, and your ass is hurting from sitting all day. You nod in agreement and get up, setting your project aside for now. “Come on, let’s go on a walk.”

Never did you think you’d ever go on a brisk walk with the actual devil. The neighborhood you live in is very mellow so you go a few laps around it.

“Want to hear what I’m working on?”

“Sure.”

“So, Janice across the street asked for baby clothes for her daughter’s kid, Bruce and David want some slacks for David’s new job next month, and Ruby from the diner wants a blanket. Ooh! What if I make us another blanket?”

“Darling, we have eighty blankets in the house already.”

“And?”

“We have enough,” Lucifer laughs and kisses the top of your head.

Who is he and what has he done with your husband? He is so not the man you met years ago. He was so much harder and meaner than he is now. After Sam killed Lilith and brought the devil out of the cage, he was one of the meanest men you’ve ever met. His behavior and attitude were atrocious.

It didn’t get any better even after Sam let him in so he could trap him in the cage with Adam and Michael. The cage stayed closed for five years until Amara was released because Dean got his Mark removed from his arm by the Book of the Damned. Lucifer convinced Castiel that he could possess him so that he could leave the cage, and he wreaked havoc on the world because of it. After Amara expelled him from Castiel’s body, he disappeared for a while. He decided that he was going to be done with all this shit.

That’s when you came back into his life. He met you again after he had come to terms with living a simple life. Sam and Dean had pissed you off enough that you wanted to be solo for a while, and you and Lucifer formed a relationship. The Winchesters weren't thrilled to hear you had a thing for the devil, but they trusted you enough to know what you were doing.

You had scammed your way into a very nice resort where he was staying and hit it off. Eventually, you got married to him. You’re not a hunter anymore, he’s not the devil anymore, it’s just you and him until death parts you. Lucifer’s changed behavior is all because of you. Before you, he was angry at the world for what his dad did to him but after you, he wanted to live for you and for you only.

Only after you’ve finished with all of your commissions, you start working on some stuff for the Winchesters. Winter is coming up, and the Bunker has a terrible heating system. You figured they could use a few extra jackets, shirts, and blankets.

They gave you a key to the Bunker should you ever need to use it, so you let yourself in carrying the clothes. Sam and Dean are talking to someone in the library so they don’t notice you coming down the metal staircase in the war room. Suddenly, Lucifer’s voice is heard, and you look at the entryway in confusion. Why is he here? What does he want from the brothers?

“I can’t trust you to do anything! You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!”

“Maybe next time give us better instruction,” Dean argues.

“God, you had one job and you managed to fuck that up. Typical,” he scoffs.

Why is he being so mean to Sam and Dean? You’re hurt he’d say such vile and mean things to the two men you consider family. You leave the clothes on one of the control panels before leaving the Bunker quickly. You don’t let them know you were ever here. If Lucifer wants to resort to who he was before, then he can but you’re not going to stand by him.

Lucifer comes home hours later in a good mood. You’re in the kitchen cooking food for yourself when he enters. He frowns when he sees enough food for one person in the pan.

“Is that food for both of us?” he asks. You don’t answer him and continue to cook in silence. “Y/N?” Still, no answer. “Darling, are you okay?” No answer. “Are you ignoring me? What did I do?” Again, no answer. “Y/N?”

You don’t go to bed that night because you and Lucifer have a thing where you never go to bed on an argument. Instead, you make more clothes. Lucifer didn’t go to bed either mostly because he kept thinking about why you’re ignoring him. What did he do to piss you off? In the morning, he goes to the room where you make your clothes to try and talk to you but finds the door is locked.

“Y/N, open the door.” No answer. He can hear your sewing machine so he knows you’re in there. “Come on, darling, open the door.”

He is at a loss for words because he doesn’t understand what he did to make you like this. He gives you the space you need for the morning, but you need food eventually so you leave the room in search of some. Lucifer is in the kitchen when you get there but you make no move to acknowledge him.

Lucifer is drinking some water and reading a newspaper. He finishes the water before dropping the glass on the ground. The glass shatters and he watches your reaction to it. He doesn’t care if all you’re going to do is yell at him. He just wants you to do something. You pause and look at the glass on the ground before grabbing the broom. You don’t say a word as you clean it up and throw it away.

“I just broke a glass! You should be pissed at me. Yell at me! Something!” Lucifer gasps. Again, you don’t respond to him. “Fuck!” He walks over to you and points his finger in your face but doesn’t actually touch you. He knows you fucking hate this which is why he’s doing it. He’s such a fucking child. “I’m not touching you. You can’t get mad at me because I’m not touching you.”

You stand still and wait for him to be done before moving around him and heading back to your room to sew. Lucifer doesn't know what to do so he visits the Winchesters in search of answers. Castiel and Jack are in the room, too. Great, more people to witness this humiliation.

“Here to berate us some more?” Dean asks.

“I need your help,” he sighs.

“What?”

“I said I need your help.”

Before Sam can answer, Dean cuts in.

“Sorry, let me just take in this moment. You need us. Isn’t that something?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“No, I definitely will.”

“What do you need?” Sam asks.

“Y/N isn’t talking to me. She’s ignoring me and I have no idea what I did to piss her off. What do I do? I don’t care if she yells at me. I need her to do something.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there, buddy,” Dean shrugs.

“Does she know you’re an ass?” Castiel asks seriously.

“Yeah, let’s make fun of me. Seriously, you’re so funny.” Lucifer mocks laughs in their faces, ready to punch the shit out of them. “What do I do?”

“Have you tried apologizing?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know what I should be apologizing for.”

“It doesn’t matter. All women want to hear is that you’re sorry. Try that. It might get her talking,” Dean sighs.

Lucifer goes home with more questions than answers. Still, he thinks about their words the whole way home. When he gets there, you’re in the living room watching one of your shows. As soon as you know he’s there, you tense and turn the volume up on the TV. He walks around to face you but you don’t look at him.

“Darling, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” you ask and look at him.

Lucifer opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. You scoff as you get up from the couch. You go to leave the room but Lucifer is hot on your heels.

“I am sorry, but you can’t expect me to read your mind to figure out why you’re so pissed at me. You have to communicate, darling. What did I do?”

“You berated Sam and Dean and put them down for what? ‘You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!’ Does that ring a bell? You treat them like shit.”

“I’ve said worse things to them.” You cross your arms angrily. “Look, I am sorry. I have a really bad temper, and I was trying to surprise you with something. I needed their help getting it but they did it wrong. It pissed me off because I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“What is it?”

Lucifer takes you to one of the unfinished rooms in the house. You never got around to actually finishing it, but Lucifer has been working on it without you knowing. You walk in and gasp at what you see. Machines are lined up on the back wall, rolls and rolls of fabric hang off tubes, mannequins are in the other corner, and everything else you need to have a successful sewing business.

“I wanted it to be perfect and I took it out on them. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You rush into the room and admire everything he’s done for you. He’s trying to apologize but you’re too busy being excited.

“Is this all for me?!”

“Yeah, everything,” he smiles. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!!”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Not talking to you was killing me.”

Lucifer pulls you into him and kisses you, glad to have overcome this with you.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

38 notes · View notes

fertilize-my-eggs · 4 days

Text

King of decay

New game ch.1

A03

A/N: since everyone pick king shigaraki in the poll, I couldn't resist making this story asap. I was into this idea for the longest. If you guys enjoy this story please let me know. So this is a dark romantic fantasy theme au where it doesn't follow the mha plot but I'll add characters into this story, I'll post this every Thursday if this get popular. ( Not this Thursday but the next one. ) anyway I hope y'all enjoy this one. MINOR N ANTIS DNI, IT'S 18+ AND YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

New game

—>press start (click)

Choose a player?

—> Player one (click)

Player two

Will you have a love story or not?

—> yes (click)

Select a difficulty

Easy

Normal

Hard

—> legendary (click)

Are you sure you want to continue?

—>yes (click)

Shigaraki's pov

It's the beginning of my life, I lost my family by accidentally killing them with my bare hands. I met a strange man before the incident, I didn't know much until I was cursed with it, I couldn't touch anything and anyone with these hands.

Blood covered my hands as I sob uncontrollably, I ran away from my village to live in the forest alone.

The days went on as my clothes got dirty and I felt cold, I lay on an old tree as a resting spot.

No one in my village helped me, I was truly alone, I curled into a ball and couldn't stop crying.

Until I hear him, the strange man that brought me home as I look up with tears.

“ Are you lost? ” he had a sincere smile as he put a hand on my head and pull me close.

“ don't worry, I'll take care of you young one.”

“ What's your name? ” he looked into my eyes as I stare in silence.

…

“ tenko shimura..” he has a comfort aura as he smiles softly.

“ tenko… you will be reborn, you don't need your old life from that village. ” I tilt my head in confusion as he pet my hair softly.

“ you will be known as tomura shigaraki as the new~.. come on little one.” and I don't remember much about my childhood but I had everything a kid asked for, a massive bedroom, a feast, so many maids to help me out.

As I grew older into my early adulthood, my old man king Shigaraki made me become a king.

He wished for two things for me, a new heir and to rule the world with a fist.

A new heir?uh I'm not sure about it since I'm cursed with decay. I can't do anything like that but fear of not finding a wife and starting a family is running out of time.

I sit on my throne lazily as my mentor Kurogiri, he was around when Afo brought me into his kingdom when I was a child.

He cleared his throat as he had a princess in line and in hand in marriage as I sighed softly.

None of them catch my attention, they're a bit too rude and entitled little brats that pisses me off.

“ Switch one would you like your highness? ” I roll my eyes as I tilt my head at him then at the women.

“ ehh.. they're not interesting to me. ” Kurogiri bowed his head as he apologized.” I deeply apologize your highness, we'll find more princesses!! ” he politely escorted the women away as they looked neither offended nor annoyed about wasting their time. At least I didn't send them to the dungeon to go rot.

This is wasting my time, I need some fresh air, I told my guards not to worry about me as I'll be taking a long walk.

I head quietly to my master bedroom as I dressed myself in civilian clothes. Baggy black outfit and deep red cloak.

I pull my hood over my long messy white hair as I begin to scroll to the village nearby.

This village is doing a bit better these days, afo was an evil man and so evil that he forced everyone to bow to his knees and give him money. I didn't understand back then how he brainwashed them into thinking he's a good king and made them starve.

I destroyed that man after he was laying in bed after I became king. He didn't say anything, he seemed like he's ready to pass away so I ended his suffering by decaying his face. Putting his ashes into a jar on the shelf never went into his old room afterwards.

I passionately hate him and how he's treating everyone in this kingdom.

I begin to walk into a flea market, looking around as I observe the surroundings.

This village has gotten a lot better, there were people enjoying their own life and gossip as I eavesdropped.

“ Man, that new king seems more intimidating than the last one.”

“ yeah but at least he's a bit helpful by making us have better jobs and- ” I was too distracted by their conversation but I didn't realize a young woman bumped into me, costing me to catch her while she was falling.

My eyes wide in shock, too stunned by what was happening.

You were covered in dirt, covered in rags as you immediately apologized." Oh God!! I'm sorry Mister, I didn't see you coming.” as you're rambling, I wasn't shocked by bumping into you. No no no.. you didn't decay immediately, my hands were on your arms for a second and you didn't get affected by this.

Strange as I thought to myself, could this be my new lover? A person that is immune to this cursed and be alive.

“ it's o-okay.. don't worry about it sweetheart.” I give you a playful wink as I walk away. Who is this woman and I need to make her mine.

Mine and mine only, seeing you blushed even though you had a rough life with dirty old clothes on and hair that hasn't been washed for days.

I couldn't help but find you adorable and remind me a lot like myself when I was young and in the forest once.

I turn my head back as you slowly walk away from people who have jobs selling fruit on the streets.

You definitely peak my interest, I need to follow you.

#shigaraki x chubby reader smut #shigaraki tomura #smut #x reader #chubby reader #fanfic #minors dni #bnha #anime #dark fantasy #fantasy #romance #mha #dead dove fanfics #fantast theme au fanfic #shigaraki

14 notes · View notes

thepaintedlady00 · 4 months

Text

Nightshade

Chapter 22 | Chapter 24

Holy shit it's been a minute! Hi y'all! I'm back! Life's been absolutely insane lately and finding the time or the inspiration to write has just been really hard the past month or so. So, sorry this has taken so long to get out, but to make it up to y'all here's a 40 PAGE chapter! 😅😂 TW: THIS TW CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS! The usual, language, smoking, drinking, mentions of drugs and alcohol, some very painful memories, mentions of abuse/neglect, mentions/descriptions of nudity and inappropriate photos of a minor, violence, blood, character death, panic attacks, general not so good stuff is gonna go down, unhealthy coping mechanisms (aka ignoring all the shit going wrong until we can't anymore), make out scenes, dirty talk, some minor roleplay if you squint, and finally some fuckin SMUT! Yeah, the will they won't they train has FINALLY left the station! We've got some teasing, foreplay, oral female & male receiving (kind of a little), penetration, nipple play, idk what else to tell ya xD And a little bit of unhealty family drama at the end of it :) Also it's super late where I live so this chapter was very VERY roughly edited, so if ya see any mistakes, no you don't xD

Chapter 23: Oysters & Champagne

The greatest changes happen with time. It is the slow, steady progression that paves the way forward for bigger, brighter things. The shift between day and night, the methodical building of new cities and roads, and the lowering of one's guard to allow connection and emotion to take hold. The greatest things often happen slowly, then all at once.

As I watched Jake sign to Prue from across the diner table, taking her feedback with a determination I wouldn't have expected from him when we'd first met, it was hard not to think of Rada's old saying. “Slowly, then all at once,” Rada explained as she helped guide my brush into lighter, slower strokes. “See? Rome was not built in a day my Lena, your painting will not be perfected in that time either.”

So much had changed in the past months that it was hard to even remember how it all began. In the beginning, Jake had been just another annoying bad-boy bartender that wanted a quick easy fuck and I'd been just another closed-off, flighty back waiter. Yet, here we were, sitting side by side in a diner booth. It was strange to think that when we'd first met I wanted nothing to do with him or his flirtatious advances and now… Now I couldn't imagine a moment without him.

“Okay, okay, let me try this,” he said with a sly grin. “Your boyfriend is a pussy.”

Prue rolled her eyes, but admitted, “You're improving.”

“Thank you,” he beamed, clearly pleased with himself and his joke.

She reached over the table and flicked his head. “You're an ass.”

Jake rubbed his forehead as I laughed. “You deserved that.”

“Worth it.”

As we happily resumed eating our breakfasts the diner door opened and slammed shut. Quinn tore her jacket off and threw it into the booth as she slid in and picked up her menu. It'd been like this for a few days. Quinn would show up pissed off about something, we'd ask, she'd tell us it was nothing and then she'd get drunk every night. It was an obvious cycle of coping, the question was what she was coping with.

Prue and I shared a glance, trying to work out the best way to approach the subject. Jake, however, just went straight into speaking, “What's crawled up your ass?”

“Nothing,” she ground out glaring at him from behind her menu.

He laughed. “And you call me grumpy.”

Something in her finally broke. “Fuck you, at least I have a reason to be so grumpy!”

“Yeah?” He continued to press, the asshole in him just unable to contain his glee at getting a rise out of someone. “Like what?”

“Like my dumbass fucking dad showing up!”

The silence that followed was interrupted by the sound of our forks clacking against the plates. Quinn's dad was something serious, something that rarely came up anymore but serious all the same. He was a known addict who spent her entire childhood bouncing between neglect and full-fledged abuse. When Quinn lived across the street from us we could hear him yelling and throwing things at all hours of the day. At night he'd leave, sometimes for weeks at a time, and Quinn would essentially come and live with us until her dad came pounding on our door demanding his kid back.

My dad had beat the shit out of him more times than I could remember, but other than that there wasn't much we could do, not when Quinn refused to let us. For years she held out hope that her dad would one day get things figured out and they could be a real family. That hope died when she turned sixteen and he disappeared. After she'd grown up and gotten on her own two feet he started showing up at random asking for money or a place to stay while he “figured some things out”, but that always ended the same. With Quinn brokenhearted.

“Your dad's back in town?” I asked. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“It doesn't matter,” she responded.

“Yes, it does! We all know what he puts you through, Quinn. We could-”

“You could do nothing because unlike you I don't have two big brothers and a drug dealer on speed dial.” The harsh words settled over the table, sinking into both of us for a minute before Quinn shook her head and relented to the tired ache in her. “I… I'm sorry, Lee. I didn't mean that.”

“It's okay,” I reassured her, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I know.”

Tears built in her eyes but she wouldn't cry, not because of him, not ever again. “I told him to fuck off already so he's probably halfway back into whatever hole he crawled out of.”

Prue put her arm around Quinn's shoulder and hugged her. “Want us to stay with you? I can close up shop for the day.”

“I can call in,” I offered.

“I can say pussy,” Jake added, getting a laugh out of her. “Seriously though, I dunno what they're saying but… Fuck your dad.”

She sniffled and shook off the wave of sorrow. “Thanks, all of you, but I'm good.”

Holding out her pinky Prue gave her a look. “Pinky swear?”

Quinn shook it and nodded. “Pinky swear.”

“And, just for the record,” I said, “My brothers would always come to help you, Quinn. So would Dom. You're not alone.”

“I know,” she whispered, but I could see what was left unsaid in her eyes. It's not the same. We may have been Quinn's found family, but the hurt in her was the same as Patrick felt. She knew she wasn't blood… She knew if it came to a choice between me and her my brothers would choose me every time. And nothing I said or did would change her mind on it.

The ring of Jake's phone broke the uneasy silence. He checked the number with narrow eyes. “It's Dom.”

“Dom's calling you?” Quinn questioned, forcing herself to relax even just partially.

“Okay, what did you guys do that day I was gone?” I teased. “First he's actually using your government name, then he's calling you on the phone?”

Jake shushed me as he answered. “Hey, what's up? Uh… No, I don't. Sure, I guess. Yeah, see you in a bit.”

“What was that about?”

“Apparently I'm getting a couch and a TV.”

I shook my head and nudged him. “Seriously, what did you do?”

Jake shrugged, taking a final bite of his food before standing. “Don't worry bout it, Princess. See you at work.”

“See you at work,” I replied. “Don't break any legs trying to move that shit into your tiny apartment.”

He flipped me off as he made his way out the diner door and headed out. When I turned back to the table Quinn and Prue were both grinning at me. “You've seen his apartment now?”

“It's not a big deal,” I replied.

“Is this part of that juicy phone call I intercepted a while ago?” Her eyebrows rose. “A sexy debt if I remember correctly.”

“I have no clue what you're talking about.”

Prue slapped her hands on the table. “Spill it!”

“There's nothing to spill,” I insisted.

“Bullshit!” Quinn interjected. “You were gone all day.”

With a roll of my eyes and a giddy, girlish feeling making my stomach fill with butterflies I caved. “We just hung out and took a few pictures with his camera.”

Quinn's brows wiggled. “Sexy pictures?”

“Maybe…”

Prue happily squeaked. “Oh my god did you two finally-”

“No.”

Quinn groaned, throwing her head back. “Oh my god! Just fuck already!”

I shook my head. “Classy, Quinn.”

“Seriously!” She continued. “I feel like I'm getting blue balled and I'm not even involved in your almost fucks!”

“Just think about how great it would feel to finally do it,” Prue added. “I know I was absolutely buzzing when Will and I finally did!”

“I…” With a sigh I looked down and quickly, quietly admitted. “I have thought about it.”

Quinn quickly translated for Prue and both of them became insatiable for the rest of breakfast.

Jake watched the bikers easily maneuver the decently sized couch and the modest TV around the stairs and up into his apartment. He'd attempted to help a few times but quickly got told to “bugger off” by what looked like an eighty-year-old man, so he just stood and watched. Dom stood next to him, silently observing before he finally asked, “Well, what do you think?”

“It looks good,” he answered. “Still a bit confused as to why you're giving me this shit but hey, frees free.”

Dom chuckled, a real chuckle. “I don't got the room for it, besides, you earned it.”

Shaking his head, Jake once again reiterated the facts. “I didn't do anything. I just-”

“You just protected her,” Dom finished for him. “That ain’t nothin’, Jake.”

“Yeah, but I don't need… Payment or anything for it.” He looked at Dom, meeting the hardened eyes. “I didn't do it for that.”

“I know.” The drug dealer clapped him on the shoulder. “Consider it a gift then.”

“Didn't take you for a guy that gave out gifts.”

“I'm not, so just say thank you and we'll never speak of it again.”

Jake chuckled. “Thank you, Dom.”

“Shut up,” he answered, nodding to the new space. “It's a bit crowded.”

With a shrug, Jake just examined the soft leather. “It's not too bad. I'm used to tight spaces.”

Hemingway leaped onto the sofa, purring as he rubbed the soft leather on his skin. “Well, at least the cat likes it.” Dom watched the others leave and moved to follow. “Call me if you can't get the TV workin'. I'll have John come out and fix it.”

“John's the one that calls me a twit, right?”

“Yep.”

“I'm sure the TV works fine.” He waved them off and closed the door, staring at the tiny living room he now had set up.

It wasn't perfect or fancy, most people would even argue that it was too much for the already cramped space, but Jake kind of liked it. His chair had gotten pushed into the back corner with his guitar on top of it. The edges of the couch left only a little room for people to slide past to the bathroom, but he rarely had company over so that didn't matter much. The TV fit on top of one of his shelves and left enough room for him to put DVDs or VHS tapes up too. He'd moved the thin coffee table he never used into the center of the space, pushing it up against the shelf a bit so there was enough legroom for the couch and then he sat down.

“Well,” he asked, turning towards the cat. “What do you think?”

Hemingway's only response was a loud purr as he curled up on the section of couch that was bathed in sunlight.

Jake chuckled at the creature and settled into the leather, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Yeah, it's pretty nice.”

22West was relatively quiet when I got in. The kitchen was almost done with prep work and from what I could tell we weren't overbooked. The locker room was empty and stayed empty as I changed into my work attire. It felt kind of nice, to have a moment of quiet to myself at the start of a hopeful easy shift.

Jake set his bike down by the door and quickly entered, hair still disheveled. I closed my locker and smirked at him. “You're running later than normal.”

“I fell asleep,” he answered, practically tearing the locker open and throwing his newly returned jacket to me. I opened my mouth to protest, but he just gave me a look over his shoulder, “Just let this one be easy for me tonight?”

“Fine,” I agreed, reopening my locker and shoving the jacket inside. “Just this once.”

“Thanks, princess.”

“How was moving your couch in?”

Jake just chuckled. “I barely touched the damn thing. The bikers took care of everything.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they're pretty efficient when they wanna be. So, are you ever gonna spill the beans on why you're all so buddy-buddy all of a sudden?”

He glanced at me, a fleeting thing shining in his eyes before he looked down at his tie and shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell, really. I just came looking for you and they… Respected that.”

Glaring at him through narrow eyes I reached up and helped him with his tie. “Likely story.”

“You worried they'll start to like me better than you?” He teased.

“As if!” I laughed. “You're not nearly that charming.”

With a smirk, Jake leaned forward, “So how charming do you think I am?”

Humming in thought I knew the real answer. The instant, resounding too charming filled my brain for a minute before I answered. “I'd say you're a solid four.”

“Four?!” He scoffed. “I'm higher than four.”

“You certainly think so,” I replied with a wicked grin, my hands smoothing down his chest. His phone buzzed against the metal material of his locker. “I'll save you a plate, sweetie.”

Rolling his eyes he answered with a simple, “Thanks.”

Once I'd emerged from the kitchen the noise that the restaurant had been absent of, filled the space. Everyone was gathered around the wall instead of at the table eating. They whispered to one another, giggling and making suggestive faces. “What are we giggling about?”

Sasha smirked, giddily grabbing my wrist to pull me towards the wall. “We are just admiring the new painting that has graced our humble restaurant!”

The crowd parted and my heart stopped dead in my chest. There, hanging on the wall in front of me was, well, me. My portrait. My nude portrait. I felt lightheaded, my vision blurring, and the voices of everyone joking and teasing were suddenly drowned out by a loud, shrill ringing.

It wasn't the sight of my nude body that filled me with a sense of dread. Though I still hated the sight of it - of what it had originally represented - it was the large splatter of crimson that stained the canvas that truly made my heart sink. It was the vivid and violent contrast between the soft hues of acrylic and the hard flakes of dried blood.

My brush slid along the canvas, the bright hues of blue and yellow, and lavender contrasting against the neutral skin tones of my self-portrait. I'd struggled to look at it, the fleshy rendering of my mostly nude figure. Its imperfections made me feel even more inadequate than I already did, the reference photo being one of the first that Tony had taken of me. That was his art, dressing and posing me to look perfect - to look like the beautiful and obedient woman he always said I'd grow into.

Truthfully I hadn't even considered painting something for this upcoming gala, having known well in advance they only wanted nudes or mostly sos to display. That wasn't what I painted, nor was it something I was particularly interested in doing, but Tony had insisted. So, there it was in all its hideous, imperfect glory. The portrait of a self I didn't even feel was me, but rather the hollow husk everyone else wanted. Everyone but Rada.

She peered over her shoulder, watching me paint for a moment as she cleaned the penthouse living room. The look on her face told me that she hated it as much as I did. But, she said nothing about how cold and lifeless it felt or about how she thought it in poor taste to paint a fourteen-year-old nude. Rada just kept cleaning, offering me what reassurance she could, like she always did. And like always, just knowing she was here was enough.

The elevator dinged open and Jules held Tony up, guiding him to the nearest chair and helping him get settled. It was obvious that he'd just got back from one of his benders on the flight back from France so I tried to keep my eyes to myself. Tony was never predictable per se, but he was always constant. His violence was never random, nor was it ever out of the blue. But, that changed when he got high enough.

“I'll go get the doctor, just to be certain you haven't taken too much.”

He chuckled. “Ever loyal, my dear friend. Some in the house could learn from you.”

The jab was obviously meant for me, but I kept my eyes on my painting, hoping it would spare me his anger for at least tonight. Jules exited quickly and with him gone, everything fell apart. The first noise I heard was the sound of metal clinking against the marble countertop, and the next was the bone-chilling sound of the cylinder of his revolver spinning.

My brush froze on the canvas, ears honing into the slow steps he took toward me before he hauled me up by the hair. “Let's play a game, baby girl.”

“I…” The words struggled to find their way from my throat as my eyes caught Rada's. “I have to finish my painting for the gala tomorrow.”

“It can wait,” he insisted, throwing me back into the counter and pinning me against it.

He spun the cylinder again, a crazed grin settling on his lips as he held it to his head and pulled the trigger twice. As always, he laughed when I flinched and then forced the gun into my hand. “I don't-” His finger forced my own down onto the trigger.

The game played out like it always did until Tony's smile faltered and a rage seemed to fill his eyes. “Do you love me?”

I'd spoken the words so many times before then, but for some reason, I froze. My brain screamed at me, begging me to say it - to tell him I loved him, but deep in my heart I knew the truth. I don't love you. This isn't love. The rage spilled from his eyes, overtaking his face as he struck me hard enough to make my head hit the counter. The blow was enough to force the words out, “I do! You know I love you!”

“Is that right?” He spat, carelessly tossing the gun onto the counter and holding my head down on it. I gripped at him, searching for skin to scratch or anything to get him off me. “You didn't seem so sure just a moment ago.”

“No! I'm sure! I… I was just confused!”

“Confused?” He laughed, a sound that sent chills up my spine and made my muscles all tense. “Stupid girl. Do you even understand?” He hauled me up, holding my face in one of his hands so hard I could feel my jaw crack. “You're alive because I want you. If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing!”

“I know!” My lips trembled as I blinked back tears. “I'm nothing without you, Tony. I know that. Please…”

I prepared myself for another bout of his laughter, or another blow maybe, but neither came. Instead, I heard the cock of Tony's gun and a surprised… Annoyed sound leave his throat. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Let go of her,” Rada demanded. From the corner of my blurred vision, I could just barely see her, standing at the end of the counter pointing Tony's gun at him with slightly trembling hands. “You let her go now, or I swear on all of God's holy saints I will kill you.”

He laughed then, that deep, boisterous one that sent terror through me. Turning his head Tony smiled at me. “Seems you're not the only one that's forgotten their place.”

Through the tight grip of his hands, I begged, pleaded with him, “Please…”

With one harsh shove, my head collided with the counter enough to make my ears ring and my vision spin. I could hear his footsteps and the quiet sound of the gun's trigger being pulled.

Click.

Fear, desperate and heavy, filled my lungs and stole my breath as I scrambled to find my bearings.

Click.

Bang.

My vision cleared just in time to watch Rada collapse half on top of my painting. Blood gushed from the side of her neck, spraying across the canvas and staining the carpet. A sharp breath finally filled my lungs, yet I still found them breathless. “NO!”

I scrambled forward, pressing my hands to her neck and desperately trying to apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. Her body shook beneath me, at least it felt that way… It could have been my own shaking. Through the sound of her gurgling breaths, I could hear Tony laughing. “L… Le…”

“Shh,” I urged. “Don't talk. Just hold on. Someone's gonna help.”

Rada smiled, tears filling her eyes as she struggled to lift a hand to lovingly brush my hair behind my ear. “My… Bea…utifil…” Blood splattered across my face as she coughed. “Da… Daugh…”

I could feel her skin grow cold as her chest stuttered and then stopped. “No! Mama please!” I sobbed, moving my hands to shake her shoulders. “Don't leave me here! Mama!”

“What's happened?” Jules’ voice cut through my screams as he burst into the room.

Tony, still laughing, waved him off. “One of the maids got a bit too bold. Don't worry, my friend, I took care of it.”

Rage filled me, rage and grief and a forever-festering desire to end it all. Chest heaving and lungs burning I stood and turned to the kitchen as Jules helped Tony back to his seat. I grabbed a knife from the counter and ran forward with a wail. Tony's eyes shined at the sight of me and the knife flying toward him as if this was what he wanted. Jules turned his head and with no hesitation, he threw himself between Tony and me.

Blood, hot and sticky, splashed my hands and face as my knife met flesh.

Jake glared at the message on his phone, a sense of regret and shame making him feel sick to his stomach.

Won't be back for another day or two. - Simone

When Jake had finally worked up the courage to answer her calls on Thanksgiving morning she'd been livid. She screamed at him for being so selfish and childish and demanded he stop with his attitude and come with her. He'd held his ground, of course, but the sting of her anger always made him feel like a pathetic eight-year-old boy being scolded. Jake had said sorry. He'd texted her, checking in, he even tried to call, but she'd given him nothing in response until now.

He breathed out a frustrated breath and put his phone back in his pocket, shutting his locker and hurrying downstairs to distract himself from the weight of his feelings with food and his friends gossiping. That, however, was not what he walked into. The group gathered around one of the walls, laughing and asking questions when he approached. “The fucks everyone pissing themselves over?”

Ari shifted, revealing more of the large painting that now hung on the wall of the restaurant. Jake’s jaw dropped at the sight of a nude figure - a body he'd grown most familiar with in the past months. If he'd been unsure at all, the bold curves of her name labeling the corner of the piece erased it. Lena.

The redhead in question stood, frozen staring up at it as Sasha talked and teased in her ear. A cold shiver crawled up his spine at the sight of her. This wasn't just some embarrassing nude portrait. This was something else. Something that made her spine stiffen and her skin lose its color.

Jake shoved past everyone and moved between Lena and Sasha. The Russian cursed at him in the foreign language. “What the hell?”

“Fuck off Sasha!”

With a prideful scoff, he turned away, shooing the crowd. “Bossy bossy!”

“Lena,” Jake whispered, reaching out for her. His fingers barely grazed her arm before she recoiled, a quick reaction he would have missed if he'd not been paying attention. She turned and looked at him with glossy eyes and a dead expression that made his gut tighten and his heart drop. “Lena?”

With a sharp exhale and a staggering step, she was moving. She stepped around him, shoved through the crowd and across the lobby. Her body flung itself through the kitchen doors and Jake followed, not even sure if it was what she'd want. The second he entered behind her he found her hunched over the garbage, throwing up the breakfast they'd shared. The kitchen crew all made noises of disgust and Scott dropped his utensils to turn and look at the disruption. “What the hell, Red?”

Lena composed herself, wiping the spit from her mouth with a shaking hand. “S-sorry chef.”

“Are you good now?” Scott asked, his tone as harsh and uncaring as it always was, but his eyes narrowed in concern.

Isaac had dropped everything and rushed to the front of the line, held off only by her raising a hand to stop him as she shook her head. “I… Just…” She looked like she was about to puke again, but held it back. “I just need a minute.”

As she turned toward the stairs, not meeting his eyes, Jake felt his worry shift to anger. This had to be him. The Anthony that Dom had told him about. And in that moment, Jake understood Patrick's bitterness about how little he truly knew. He felt unprepared - unequipped to offer Lena any help, but even with that aching feeling, Jake followed her up the stairs. He'd be there, no matter what she needed from him, Jake would be there.

I knew I was moving, talking. I could feel each strained movement and hear each shaky reply. None of it registered. In my mind, I was still standing in front of that painting… Still in the penthouse living room watching my mom bleed out. I was stuck, or my mind was, reliving that moment over and over again while my body just kept moving on autopilot.

“What can we do when we feel stuck?” Dad asked.

“Keep moving.”

“Keep moving. Find something to ground you.”

“Keep moving,” I murmured to myself as I stumbled up the stairs. “Just keep moving.”

I could hear someone following me up, but I didn't stop or look back. I just had to keep going. One foot in front of the other. When I finally made it to the locker room bathroom I barely registered slamming the door shut and fumbling for the knobs of the faucet. It felt like my head was spinning with the noise and the heat and the nausea.

“Get out,” I told myself in the mirror trying to focus on my face and drown out the sound of Tony's laugh with the running water. “Get out.”

“Stupid girl. Do you even understand?”

I was going to throw up again. “Get out.”

“If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing.”

A pounding came from the door as it got harder and harder to breathe. “Get out.”

“I'm the only one that could ever love you.”

In the background, I heard the door open, but whoever was standing in it was distorted… Replaced by Tony's laughing face and his thin frame. It isn't real, I told myself, but my body was already gone. Desperate panic forced the shrill cry from my lips, “GET OUT!”

Whoever it was vanished, but the fear didn't go with them. Every inch of me shook as I scrambled to find a foothold in reality. I needed something, anything to keep me from passing out. “Find something to ground you.”

There was one thing that would keep me going. One thing I could use. I turned the cold water off and stuck my hands beneath the boiling water. The pain made everything else fade away, forcing my body to stay on its feet and pulling my mind to the present. My heart hammered in my chest and a pained cry echoed in my ears as I stared into my own reflection.

Tears stained my cheeks and my hair had tiny clumps of throw up in it. It wasn't pretty, but it was real. I was here. The door opened again and Isaac opened his mouth, obviously having prepared something to say. That something vanished as he watched the steam rise up from the sink and he realized what I was doing. He ran forward and turned the water off, switching it to cold as he looked at my red hands. “Shit!”

“I couldn't get out,” I whispered in a broken… Pathetic voice.

Isaac held me from behind, keeping my hands beneath the now-cold water as I began to shake again. The pain was gone and without it, everything else started to creep back in. “It's okay, Lena. It's okay.”

“I…” A breathless whine caught in my throat. “I can't get out.”

“You're out,” he answered. “You're here.”

“I… I…” My body lurched forward, bile spewing from my mouth as panic began to set back in.

Isaac squeezed my hands and stammered before he released me. “Okay… Fuck… Okay, I… I'm gonna call Peter.”

I shut my eyes, setting my head against the chilled sink. “Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout.”

Without even really thinking I shut the cold water off and reached for the hot water knob. Find something to ground yourself. A hand settled on top of mine as a new body settled in Isaac's place behind me, one I recognized instantly. “Stop.”

Jake.

Standing upright I opened my eyes, I stared into his eyes through the mirror. “Can you tell me what you need?”

Clenching my jaw I shook my head as my chest stuttered with repressed sobs. “That's okay.” Jake gently pulled my arms back, crossing them over my chest and holding me tightly to his. “Can you feel my heartbeat?”

I nodded.

“Can you feel my breaths?”

I nodded again.

“Breathe with me,” he whispered, pressing his head to mine as he quietly counted. I watched us through the mirror for a minute before I let my eyes shut. Jake's steady breaths fanned across my neck, his heart beat against my back and his warm embrace sank into my bones. It was like his whole body was speaking to mine… Telling it that there was no danger. I was safe. “That's it, just breathe, Princess. You're here. You're safe with me.”

I'm safe. I'm with Jake. Slowly my breaths began to even out and my brain felt less muddled. I'm with Jake. My body stopped shaking and eventually, all that was left was us. I'm safe.

Isaac's panicked voice echoed as he walked back towards the bathroom door. “I don't know what to do! She's… I don't even know how to explain it.”

Swallowing, I quietly asked, “Is he talking to my brother?”

“Yeah,” Jake answered. “He got worried.”

“Can you tell him I'm okay now? I…” I opened my eyes and met Jake's gaze. “I don't want Peter to come all the way down here. Please.”

“Okay.” He looked down at the sink.

“I'm good now,” I assured him. “I'm just gonna sit down for a minute.”

If it were anyone else they'd likely have fought me, but this was Jake. He knew I wasn't lying. His hold on me loosened and he carefully helped me sit on top of the toilet lid. “I'll be right back.”

While the muffled conversation carried on outside the door I just sat there, staring at my reddened hands with an empty sense of impending doom. He was here. In this restaurant. He'd hung that painting where every guest, everyone passing close enough by the windows, would be able to see it. Still, I knew it wasn't about publicly shaming me. If that were the case he would've chosen to frame one of the many photos he had of me. This was a personal message. A reminder.

“If you're going to play games, you'd best be prepared to do whatever it takes to win.” He reminded me often after that night, that Rada had played and lost. That Francois had played and lost. Everyone always lost. “They don't have the mind or the stomach to win this game of ours, baby girl. We're still the only ones even playing.”

Deep down I knew what this meant. I knew, yet I refused to think it - to breathe life into that horrifying and terrible thought. He didn't get to toy with me. He didn't get to scare me out of this life.

This life was mine. I had survived his horrors, I'd taken the blows and I'd made my choices. I had fought and bled and killed for this life. He didn't get to take that away, not now, not ever. He didn't get to win.

I wiped my eyes and forced everything back into that box deep inside me. Once my feet steadied I walked out into the locker room where Jake had taken the phone from Isaac and was trying to talk my brothers down. I held my hand out. “Let me talk to them.”

Jake watched me for a minute before he nodded, “She wants to talk to you. Here.”

“Thanks.” I held the phone to my ear, listening to Patrick in the background throwing things around in search of his shoes. “I'm fine. Just stay home and take care of the gym.”

“Fuck that!” Patrick yelled.

“Is he there?” Peter asked, his voice filled with the rage he rarely had.

Sparing a glance at Jake I answered, “No. He's not stupid enough to show up with Dom around.”

“Then what happened?”

Flashes filled my head again as I forced myself to answer. “It's just a painting, Pete.”

“Which painting?”

“One you don't have to worry about,” I bit in bitter frustration. “Just… Please don't come. Please.”

“Lena you-”

“I am fine.” I insisted coldly. “I… I just want to work, okay? Can you just let me do that?”

Peter was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Promise me you're safe?”

As if on their own, my eyes drifted to Jake again, meeting those sea-blue eyes. “I promise.”

He shouted at Patrick before speaking again. “Okay. Put Isaac back on.”

“Thank you.” I turned towards the door where Isaac stood biting his nails. “Here.”

I watched him move out of the locker room, talking to my brother for a second before I turned back to Jake. What do I say? I asked myself. He no doubt had a thousand questions, all of which would be tied up in the painting… Which was tied up in Rada and Tony and everything I didn't want him to know. So, when his mouth opened I stopped breathing. “What do you need?”

What? My brain went blank in seconds as I gaped at him. “W… Don't you have like a million questions?”

“Course I do,” he replied simply. “The most important of them being that one. So, what do you need?”

“Honestly? I… Kinda wanna just forget this ever happened.” I admitted looking down at my feet. “

“That's gonna be kinda hard with that thing hanging up out there.”

“Yeah, it is.”

He shrugged a shoulder and moved to pass me. “Gimme one minute.”

I followed him to the door. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sasha!” He hollered, heading across the hall toward the front room. “Give me a hand real quick?”

Service started before Jake came back and so I jumped into work. I used it to distract myself from obsessing over the fact that hundreds of rich assholes were out there, no doubt looking at my painting - my body. That got harder to do when Will moved me to back waiting. The first follow of my night felt like I was walking right into a lion's den. And then it suddenly wasn't.

I didn't know what they did, all I knew was when I walked out of the kitchen and into the sea of customers, the painting was nowhere in sight. I looked at Jake as he worked behind the bar, and all the answer he offered me was a smile.

After that, the night felt a little less heavy and before I knew it we were all gathering around the bar for after shift drinks. I gave Nicky a pat on the back and smiled. “Head home Nick, I'll get it all closed up.”

“You sure?” He asked, handing me his bar rag.

“Go on,” I urged.

Jake and I worked side by side, serving drinks to each of our friends as they all mingled and began to filter out the door. It felt good to be behind the bar with him again, but whenever I looked up all I could see was that painting on the wall. Fighting that foreboding feeling was tiring and not something I wanted to spend all night doing.

“So,” Jake started cautiously as he stacked a few glasses. “Today was a lot.”

I sighed and looked down at the bartop. “Yeah… Sorry about earlier. I wasn't trying to be… I dunno, pathetic.”

“You were hardly pathetic,” he assured me.

“Thanks,” I whispered, finally looking up at him.

“For what?”

“Grounding me.” Suddenly shy beneath his gaze I looked away. “I have a hard time coming out of episodes like that and you… You made it less shitty. A lot less shitty. So, thank you.”

His fingers combed through my hair as he brushed it behind my ear. “No problem, Princess.”

“Let's get drunk tonight.”

With a smirk, he asked, “You think that'll help?”

“Can't hurt to try.” I shrugged, repeating the words he'd told me. “Besides, I kinda want you to be all over me again.”

Jake's smirk grew wider, turning to pull my body into his. “Like this?”

I nodded, happily drinking in the warmth and the smell of him. “Yeah. Like that.”

“Come on then,” he answered, tugging me out from behind the bar and throwing his jacket around my shoulders. “Let's go.”

Jake watched Lena dance from the bar as he nursed his first and likely only drink for the night. She'd been drinking steadily since they arrived, though no one seemed to want to discourage her from it. Peter and Patrick had told Dom shortly after Lena had talked them out of coming and so he and the bikers were nowhere in sight. Whether that was something to worry about or not, he didn't know.

At first, he'd considered talking to the brothers about the whole situation, but Patrick had just given him a shake of his head and nodded to Lena. A reminder that everything - or almost everything - they did was on her terms. They'd discuss it when she was ready to. She'll never be ready to, he told himself.

Lena was strong and stubborn. In those first months, he'd thought she was fearless. The longer he spent with her - with everyone - the more he realized that no one was truly unafraid. Everyone feared something and that was okay… It was normal to be afraid. Fear often meant that you cared about something outside of yourself. But, Lena's fear was something entirely different. Her fear was intertwined with her anger and her sorrow. So much of her was packed into the threads she refused to acknowledge let alone pull on.

So, she'd keep drinking and dancing and moving forward. She'd leave seeing that painting in the restaurant as buried as whatever memory it was tied to. And, though his stomach twisted into knots at the thought of leaving her panic attack in the bathroom unresolved, Jake would let her have this. He had to.

After an hour he excused himself outside, not bothering to take the alley to the couch while the bikers had vacated their spot out front of the bar. He grabbed his jacket from Lena's seat and fished out his cigarettes and his lighter, moving to pull one out when he looked up and saw Quinn. She was boxed up against the wall outside by an older, angry-looking man - her father if he had to guess. From the door, Jake could see the tears building in her eyes as he screamed at her and grabbed her arms to shake her. His jaw clenched and his feet carried him toward her. “Hey!”

“Jake-” she tried to interrupt.

He ignored her, shoving the man's filthy hands off Quinn and occupying the spot in front of her. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Her dad laughed. “You’re a real tough guy, huh? Do you know who the fuck I am?”

“Don't care.” Jake shoved him again when he tried to get up in his face.

“You're gonna regret this,” he said, spitting at Jake's feet as he glared at Quinn and slunk back into the night mumbling and grumbling curses and threats under his breath.

He waited until the man had vanished around the corner to turn to Quinn. She was closed off, almost angry as she huffed, “You didn't have to do that.”

“I know,” Jake answered, lighting his cigarette. He took a drag before wordlessly offering it to her. Quinn accepted and smoked in silence alongside him. “So, that's your dad?”

“Yep.”

“Seems like a real charmer.”

She sighed. “Yeah.”

Jake recognized the look in her eyes, that painful anger. “I never knew my dad, but he probably wasn't too different from your old man.”

“It sucks, right?” she asked, looking up at him. “Being so… Unimportant to someone that's supposed to love you.”

“Yeah, it does,” he earnestly replied. “But, we've got other people, you know… Better people.”

“I know,” she whispered. “That's different though.”

With a solemn nod, he agreed, “I know it is.”

“Thanks,” she said, clearing her throat. “For the smoke.”

“No problem. And, if he shows up again or bothers you or whatever, just call me and I'll come take care of it.”

“You don't have to worry about me,” Quinn insisted with a sad look.

It was a simple, sad sentence, one Jake had used countless times before. He knew the ugly truth that hid behind the words. I don't want to be weak. Weak. It was laughable to think anyone found Quinn weak. In all the time he'd known her, she was nothing short of sassy, strong, and confident. Yet, here, on the side of the street, Quinn looked small.

She must've felt small too, the way she kept glancing at him with that fearful hint of shame. Jake felt a few things swirl around in his chest. Anger that her shitty dad made her feel like this small and unimportant. Sad that her shitty dad made her feel unloved. But the strongest among them was a new, blinding need to protect her. Jake wanted to make sure Quinn never felt that way ever again and it was frightening for a moment. However scared he was of this new responsible feeling, he quickly decided that he didn't care.

He didn't care how scared he was, he knew Quinn and he knew that she deserved the same kind of family that she'd given him with her persistence and her meddling. “Yeah, but what kinda big brother would I be if I didn't.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him and breathed out a soft laugh. “I…I've never had a big brother before.”

“I've never been one before,” he replied, looking anywhere but her face. “Guess it'll be something new for both of us.”

Quinn nodded, and without another word, she stepped forward and hugged him. “Well, just for the record, I can't think of a better idiot to be my big brother.”

He held her close, letting the words fill him with pride. “I have my smart moments.”

They held each other for a moment longer, both holding onto that feeling of family that neither of them had known - at least not like this. Then Quinn pulled away, wiping her eyes. “We should get back inside.”

“Yeah, we should.” He replied, following her with a steady arm around her shoulder.

I downed the shot in one quick motion, shaking off the burning tingling feeling that engulfed my face after. It felt nice to forget. The tingling was all I could really focus on… Well, the only other thing I could focus on.

Jake had been cool and collected all day. He'd handled the painting, the panic attack, and everything else seemingly with ease. While I made quick work of every drink Ian made, he slowly drank his beer and watched me with amusement. It reminded me of the last time I'd gotten wasted, what little of it I could remember.

Want. No matter how much I drank or how much I kept putting the big shit off, the want never lessened. As I watched Jake with that stoic face of his, all I could think about were those heated moments between us. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to do all of them again. So, with a wide, drunken grin I took hold of his hand and started pulling him through the crowd. “Come on!”

He chuckled but let me drag him to the back hall next to the bathrooms. “You gonna hurl?”

“No,” I giggled, stumbling into his chest. “I wanna kiss you!”

“Yeah? And we had to come over here to do that?”

“I'm not gonna make out with you in front of my dad!” I replied in a giddy, hushed whisper. “Do you wanna kiss or not?”

Jake stepped forward, backing me into the wall, his hands landing on my hips as I stared up at him in awe. “I always wanna kiss you, princess.”

With a satisfied hum, I gripped his shirt and pulled him towards me. “Good.”

In the dimly lit hallway surrounded by noise and bodies somehow in my mind, it was just the two of us. Jake's lips moved in time with my own, our hands grabbing at one another with a furious need to somehow be closer. The slight buzz of the alcohol made my head feel light and erased all of the lingering unknowns from my mind entirely. It was that mix that made me feel bold enough to touch Jake exactly how I wanted to.

I palmed him through his jeans, swallowing every moan until he pulled away from my lips with a groan. He squeezed my hips, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “Fuck.”

Smiling, I leaned forward and kissed his neck. “You're so pretty.”

“If you were sober I…” He groaned again as my teeth scraped his Adam's apple.

“You'd what?”

Jake looked down at me and shook his head, hands leaving my hips to take hold of my face. “I'd do a lot of things.”

“Sounds fun. Would I like it?”

“Definitely,” he whispered.

I smirked. “How do you know?”

Bumping our noses together Jake shrugged, “I have it on good authority I excel at the art of pleasure.”

“Hmm,” I hummed playfully, “I think you're just overconfident.”

“I'll just have to give you a private demonstration.” He sighed against my lips, amused and frustrated all at once. “When you're sober.”

“When I’m sober,” I repeated, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Raincheck?”

He chuckled. “Raincheck.”

“We can still make out though, right?”

“Absolutely,” he answered, pressing me back into the wall and wasting no time reconnecting our lips.

It wasn't until Patrick rounded the corner and quickly covered his eyes with a disgruntled groan. “God, can a man use the toilet without havin' to see his sister doing… that?”

With haste, Jake and I fixed our clothes and bashfully leaned against the wall. “Sorry, Pat.”

He walked past us, shaking his head. “I don't wanna see none of that when I walk back out. Get a room or something.”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and too many shots, but it was good. As we played our shitty drinking games and teased one another I was blissfully content. All thoughts of the restaurant, the painting, Rada, Tony… It was pushed so far into the back of my mind that it was nothing more than a blurry memory.

As Jake walked Quinn and me to my apartment I noticed how relaxed she seemed. Even in my slightly drunk state, I recognized how the tension seemed to have lifted from her shoulders as she walked beside Jake with a smile. She felt safe with him and it made my chest feel warm and fuzzy. When we reached my door, she turned and hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he replied, awkwardly patting her head. “I mean it.”

“I know.”

Giving them both a fond look I pressed one last kiss to Jake's lips. “Goodnight, tough guy. Try not to get beat up on your way home.”

He chuckled. “I'll do my best.”

“Tell our cat goodnight from me!”

“Goodnight, Lena,” he hollered as he walked down the sidewalk.

Inside Quinn and I flopped onto my bed, both tossing and turning, fighting over the blanket to try and get comfortable. “Hey,” I whispered as we both finally settled. “What happened tonight?”

She snuggled into the pillow and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Lee.”

“Quinn-”

“Seriously,” she replied quickly, a smile tugging at her lips. “My big brother took care of it.”

Even in my inebriated state, I didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. The answer was clear. I smiled and closed my eyes. “Jake’s good at that.”

“Yeah, he is.”

Jake stood in front of the bar, watching the workers closely as they situated the lights. Mr. Hiragana and I walked through the space of the new restaurant, now finally cleared of garbage and wreckage. It looked bigger than it had, but that might've just been how the fixed walls and proper lighting made it feel. “So,” the man beside me began, “I assume you and your colleagues have discussed the design of the space?”

“We have,” I answered, again glancing at Jake. “Scott doesn't care either way, so long as the kitchen is big enough with new appliances. Jake wanted full control of the bar.” With a smile, I handed him the simple sketches I’d done. “And you know me, I'm the one with the vision.”

“Of course,” he agreed, eyes carefully looking over the pages with a smile. “Your visions never cease to amaze me, little fish.”

Nudging him with my elbow I smiled. “So, you think it's doable?”

“It is fairly simple.” Handing the papers to the lead on the project they exchanged a few words before he patted my hand and looked around the room. “This will be the pride of the city when all is said and done.”

“That's ambitious,” I said with a laugh. “The big apples got a lot of gems.”

Nodding Mr. Hiragana said again, “And this will be one of them.”

With a tilt of my head and a soft smile, I squeezed his hand. “Were you always this optimistic?”

“Only after I met you,” he replied, squeezing my hand back.

“Was I ever this optimistic?” A sad feeling took root in my chest as I looked around at the clean slate. “It feels like so long ago that I had something like this… A dream.”

Mr. Hiragana nodded, his thoughtful eyes never leaving my face as he answered, “You have been through much these years we have been apart. You have changed… Grown not only in body but in mind. The little fish I met at that hotel so many years ago is not the same one that stands before me now. You have known sorrow, fear, loss.” With a proud gleam in his eyes, he nodded more assuredly. “And in spite of it all, you have survived. It is normal to lose one's optimism after such a trying journey. But, one day you will find it again.”

“You've grown wiser in our time apart,” I deduced.

With a deep laugh, he shook his head. “In some ways, I suppose. All that live to be my age have some wisdom to depart onto younger ears.” With a glance at Jake, he smirked. “Though, some of that wisdom is repeated words said by a much wiser voice than mine.”

“How do you mean?”

“Slowly, then all at once.” His words made everything still as Rada's bright smile and tender kiss on my head warmed me. Mr. Hiragana smiled again. “This is what she always said when encouraging you to follow your heart, yes?”

My eyes drifted towards the bar where Jake paced behind the wooden bartop. His eyes darted back and forth, memorizing the space he'd claimed as his and visualizing whatever it was his mind had thought up for it. For a split second, it was like I too could see that bright image he had in his head. A bar with soft lights and glittering bottles, pictures of everyone that mattered littering the wall behind it. A place that felt lavish and expensive without being so snooty and uptight. A place to feel at home.

Then that all vanished as his head turned and those blue eyes pierced mine. The vision faded from his mind, replaced by another… Less focused one. That wicked gleam shined like the sun over water as his tongue darted out to wet his lips and his eyes lazily moved down the length of me. Sinful. That was the only word I knew that properly described him as I broke eye contact with him and cleared my throat.

“Thank you.” I looked back up at him, ignoring the knowing look he gave me in return, and bowed my head. “For helping me find my way.”

He bowed his head in return. “You have always known your way, Little Fish. I have simply reminded you of it.”

I glanced at the time and bowed again. “We should be going.”

“I look forward to our next meeting.” He squeezed my hand one last time. “They would be proud of you.”

After leaving the crew behind to work on the building Jake and I headed to work. We made small talk about the progress of the restaurant, a subject Jake was still clearly uncomfortable with. “Mr. Hiragana says we'll probably be able to open before next years up.”

Jake stiffly nodded, eyes still staring straight ahead. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” I answered, watching him carefully. “So, how are you feeling about the whole thing?”

“Fine.”

I reached out and stopped him mid-step, my hand carefully laying on his arm and encouraging him to look at me. “Jake.”

He shook his head and sighed, “I feel fine. Excited… But… It's… It's just a lot and it's complicated.”

“Anything I can do to help?” I asked with a tender tilt of my head.

“No, I don't think so.”

I shrugged. “Well, I give you full permission to be an asshole about restaurant shit while you figure it out. That help?”

Jake chuckled, visibly pleased with the idea of an asshole pass. “Maybe a little.”

“Good,” I beamed back as the heavy cloud of tension dissipated and the rest of our walk felt normal again. It wasn't until we entered 22West that the weight of everything came crashing down over me all over again.

A new painting hung on the wall, not one nearly as painful to look at, but another all the same. The light blues of the waves gradually faded into black as the painting shifted focus from the boat - my mother's boat - to the nothingness that lurked beneath the water. My heart dropped into my stomach, twisting and tightening until it was nothing more than a ball of iron filling my stomach with dread.

The clinking of silverware felt louder that family meal than any other, at least it did to Jake. He sat next to Lena, whose eyes hadn't left the painting since they'd arrived. It was a simple image of a boat and the ocean depths, but he knew what it really meant to her… Some of it anyway. As his eyes passed between the painting and Lena's emotionless face, Jake wanted nothing more than to ask the question that hung on the tip of his tongue.

Why does this make you feel so afraid?

His best and only guess was that it had something to do with Anthony… Something to do with the three years that Lena tried her damnedest to never focus on. But, in that curious, protective way of his, Jake wanted to know more. He wanted to understand the situation fully so he could at least make an attempt to lessen the impact of it.

They had been the only two that hadn't already gotten dressed in those hideous shirts, having been late to oversee things at the new restaurant space, and as they changed in the quiet of an empty locker room Jake felt relieved no one else was here. The apprehensive, almost avoidant air around Lena never once lifted as he turned to look at her. “You okay?”

She didn't even glance at him when she answered, “It's just… A lot…”

He found it ironic that her words – her feelings mirrored his so perfectly. Any other time it would have made him chuckle, but right now all he wanted was to make her feel better. The panic in her voice as she screamed at him to get out the other day had made him feel physically sick. Seeing her using pain to somehow try to ignore the memories made him feel even worse. Jake wanted - needed - to help her.

“So take it out on me,” Jake suggested, her words from their walk circling around in his head as he closed his locker.

“What?”

“All that shit you're holding onto, take some of it out on me.”

“I'm not gonna do that.”

“Why not?” He asked with a hopeful smirk. “Like me too much?”

“Less and less each minute,” she weakly joked.

“Let's play a game,” he offered. “We go back in time tonight to before we became friends. I'll be my charming self and you can be a bitch.”

“Jake…”

Pushing himself off his locker he chuckled. “Oh come on, princess. Have some fun. Play a game with me.”

Shaking her head Lena finally nodded. “Alright, fine, I'll play.”

Jake smirked down at her. “See ya downstairs, Lana.”

“See ya, jerk.”

Tonight was gonna be fun.

“Behind,” Jake deadpanned for the third time tonight, the mischievous glow in his eyes the only thing giving away his true emotions. “Watch where you're standing, Lana.”

He’d been purposefully waiting until I’d stepped up behind him to turn directly into me and pretend to be annoyed. Part of his “game”. I'd been skeptical of his plan and it’d taken me a minute to adjust to the amped-up brand of his usual asshole behaviors, but once I did I actually found the whole thing… Fun… “Watch where you're walking, jerk.”

Jake slid out of the kitchen with nothing more than a smile. Everyone around us looked confused, but shocking none of them said a word. Isaac and Scott gave me the occasional questioning look, likely expecting me to explain it later. I didn't care about any of that though. I didn't care about the new painting or the past it dug up. I didn't care about Tony's obvious involvement. All I cared about was thinking up a new snarky comment to hit Jake with the next time I saw him.

I continued to switch between line and dish before moving to help restock the bar. Jake saw me the second I left the kitchen with the two bottles in my hand and slid to stand in the middle of the bar space, shaking his cocktail. “Sorry, I need the room.”

“Idiot,” I mumbled under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear me as I pressed my chest up against his back to slide past him. “Good thing for you I don't mind getting up close and personal.”

“Lucky me,” he replied, pursing his lips as he watched me bend over to grab the now-empty rack for the glasses.

He slid the drink to the guest who had ordered it and quickly turned, putting his body directly behind mine so I'd run into him when I stood up. I played into his hand and with an exaggerated eye roll I mimicked his words, “Behind.”

“Sorry,” he taunted. “I was just admiring the view.”

“I'm just surprised you have the time to admire anyone else's ass when you're so obviously in love with your own.”

Chuckling he let me pass. “I assure you, an ass like yours puts mine to shame, princess.”

“How flattering,” I deadpanned. “Save some of that charm for the people dumb enough to pay you, pretty boy.”

The night dragged on, but I hardly noticed how long it really was. Once the guests had vacated the dining room everyone drank themselves into a better mood. Nicky left early, leaving Jake and me to close the bar down. Next to me, Jake finished counting his tips with a click of his tongue, “Only four hundred tonight.”

“Well,” I sarcastically remarked, putting a bottle back in place. “Looks like tonight's gonna be a big fat bust. If only there was a way you could salvage your wounded ego.”

“Wanna know what I think?” He asked, ignoring my taunt as he side-eyed me. He poured Heather's drink into a to-go cup with a thoughtful grin.

“Desperately,” I answered in that slightly mocking tone he was known for.

Jake slid the cup to her and watched the group start to leave. “I think I should snag us some food from the kitchen while you grab a bottle from the wine cellar,” he turned and looked me up and down, reminiscent of how he had in the beginning. “Then we meet at my place in a half hour.”

The look in his eyes told me exactly what his words didn't, but I still wanted to hear him say it. With a coy smile and a tiny step too close, I asked in a light, teasing tone, “Like a date?”

“If that's what you wanna call it,” he replied just as teasing, but both of us could pick out the genuine nature in each other's words.

My heart did a flip inside. For the first time since the painting had arrived 22West felt like it should. It felt like just another space, one I didn't feel paranoid or anxious in. Jake was there, standing in front of me, inviting me to spend the night with him… Inviting me to forget about anything and everything else. Mr. Hiragana’s words - Rada’s words - echoed in my mind. “Slowly, then all at once.”

“It’s a date then,” I answered, a sudden hopefulness, or maybe blind courage, refusing to let old fears rob me of this - of anything else with Jake.

That cocky grin of his made me roll my eyes as he kept up the persona of that asshole-ish self we’d be toying around with all through service. “See you there, Princess.”

“Don’t get too cocky, pretty boy, or I’ll stand you up.”

Jake chuckled and shook his head. “No, you won’t.”

God this shouldn’t be so fun. “Won’t I?”

He bent his head down, crowding my space and letting his eyes shamelessly roam down to my cleavage. “You want this too bad to stand me up.”

I replied through the feeling of heat rising up my neck. “You seem confident about that.”

“I am confident,” he answered, tugging his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “That’s the point of this game, isn’t it? We pretend to be the assholes we were to each other when we first met so we can finally just say what we really mean?”

Though I hadn’t seen the game that way before, it clicked the second Jake had said it. Everything that had happened the past few days… Thanksgiving, the bar, tonight, one thing after another after another after another all getting in the way of what I, we, wanted and dreaded more than anything. The conversation. The admittance. The game had given me - given us both - the courage to just come out with it, to commit once and for all to an action. A date. “You’re right.”

Jake smirked even wider, cocky and dickish as he leaned in closer, tilting his head ever so slightly in that smart-ass kind of way. “Am I?”

“Don’t ruin it.” I carefully pushed against his chest and took a step back. “Now, excuse me. I have an expensive bottle to steal.”

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, just low enough that I couldn’t be totally sure he’d even said it. He watched me turn and walk away, the burning feeling of his eyes on me only making my heart beat faster in my chest.

Down in the chilled wine cellar, I stood, staring at the shelves, as my mind caught up with my body. A date. Holy shit. This is a date. I glanced down at my plain attire and shook my head. “Nope.” Digging my phone out of my pocket I moved forward, scanning the bottles on the shelves as the line rang.

“Hello?” Quinn sang into the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Wow, not even a hi, how’s it going?”

“Quinn, no time!” I replied, hurriedly. “I need an outfit.”

She made a curious noise over the phone. “What for?”

“I…” A stupid gin made my cheeks burn as I answered, “I have a date.”

“Are you two finally calling your one on one time, a date?” Quinn inquired with a light teasing tone. “How bold of you.”

“Shut up, do you have something I can wear or not?”

With a sigh, I could hear her as she started flipping through her rack of clothes. “If you want my professional opinion, showing up in nothing at all would be your best option.”

Rolling my eyes I finally found the bottle I'd been searching for. “Quinn…”

“Fiiinnee, I've got a few options. See you in ten?”

“Sounds good, thank you!”

“Det-”

“Details as payment, I know Q.”

Bottle in hand I hurried up the stairs, saying goodnight to the dish crew as they finished changing and headed out into the chilled air. My steps felt both lighter and heavier as I walked beneath the neon lights and moved around the slow crowds. I tried not to focus on what this meant… On the obvious expectation that both Jake and I had at this point, but that was practically impossible.

We'd already done everything else, a fact everyone was keen on reminding us. We'd kissed and touched and whispered heated words. Jake and I were far past any normal friendship. We had been for a while. Yet, there we were using games to commit to an actual date. There we were coming up with some kind of excuse to meet at his apartment where things were bound to go a very specific way.

Are we even going to get to open this bottle? I wondered, nails picking at the fancy label. Or is he going to just kiss me the second I walk in? The vivid and tantalizing image of him pulling me into his apartment and pressing me into his front door filled my brain. Am I going to be able to not kiss him first? Another valid question.

Quinn's apartment wasn't far from Ozzy's or the club. She lived a few blocks up the way in a modest one-bedroom place she'd busted her ass to afford back in the day. The old, sun-faded brick shifted to peeling wallpaper as I made my way inside and up the creaking staircase to the third floor. The second door down the hallway, the only door not decorated with scuff marks from people's shoes.

Ari was waiting to open the door with a wide smirk. “TIGER!” She purred, pulling me inside the dimly lit warm space and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I heard you have a daaaaattteeee.”

Quinn's apartment was always in some state of chaos. Shoes were tossed around, blankets hung off of every soft surface and her makeup and hair supplies were scattered around her place like hidden gems. She liked it this way, liked the way it made things feel crowded and lived in. Having grown up with nothing Quinn collected things and held them close like a slutty magpie.

The warm lights from her lamps lit up the living space, where it appeared I'd interrupted a dinner date. Quinn emerged from her bedroom to the left and helped peel Ari off me with a loving look and teasing in her eyes. “It's not a big deal remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Ari giggled. “Just two friends hanging out late into the night.”

“You two are the worst,” I grumbled, setting the bottle down on Quinn's counter. “So, any good choices?”

With an offended look, Quinn waved me into her bedroom. “As if you need to ask.”

Ari looked at the bottle with wide eyes and a huge grin. “Thief!” She gasped. “I love you!”

“Don't open it,” I called out to her. “If there's any left tomorrow I'll bring it up to you guys.”

Quinn's eyes widened and she practically vibrated as she hopped onto her bed among the outfits she'd pulled from her closet. “Is this gonna be an overnight date?”

“Maybe,” I answered, trying not to let my excitement or my terror change my voice.

“Oh my god, are you gonna let him take your V card?”

I nudged her leg, almost sending her off the bed. “My V card's been gone for a while Q.”

She shook her head. “It's been over a year since that cards gotten punched in. It counts.”

“Outfits,” I sighed, changing the subject.

“Well now that I know it's a slumber party,” she rummaged through her pile of clothes and pulled out a little black dress. “This is what you're wearing.”

“I don't get to try anything else on?”

“Nope!”

With a groan, I grabbed the dress from out of her hands and stomped out of her room towards the bathroom. “Why did I even ask for your help?”

“Because I'm the best!” Was her loudly overjoyed reply.

Once I'd closed myself into the small bathroom with old checkered floor tiling and the tiny pink sink I looked at the dress she'd chosen. It wasn't ugly or too gaudy. It was simple, black silk with a modest hem of lace around the top and bottom. The spaghetti straps were thin, but I was just thankful there were straps at all… Or a dress at all for that matter.

I took my time sliding it on, stuffing my bra and other clothes under the sink until I could come back and get them. In Quinn's mirror, I fluffed my hair and fixed my makeup, trying to focus on the excited feeling in my chest instead of the anxious ball in my stomach. This isn't a big deal. It's just Jake.

Just Jake… As if that had ever been true.

Unveiling the dress to Quinn and Ari resulted in the two catcalling me for five minutes. “God damn!”

“It's about time you let those girls out to play again!” Ari laughed, looking at my boobs. “No bra too? Jakey's a lucky boy tonight!”

“I'm leaving my clothes under your sink,” I told Quinn as I gathered my things and grabbed the bottle off the counter. “Thanks for the dress!”

“No problem! Have fun being a slut tonight!”

Flipping her off I left the apartment, trying to calm my nerves with each step forward. It wasn't a big deal. It was just Jake. This was just a date.

Jake had spent a solid ten minutes meticulously opening and cleaning each of the oysters he'd grabbed from the kitchen. He'd found a niceish plate to put them on and shooed his cat off the counter. Then he'd started truly freaking out.

Lena was on her way with whatever bottle she'd grabbed. They'd drink, eat, and then the inevitable would happen. They’d share a look. He'd touch her or she'd touch him and from there they'd be unable to stop themselves from checking off their list of rainchecks all in one go.

He turned on a movie, the first movie his hands could find, and he cleaned. It wasn't really an effective way to keep his mind off the possibilities that were at this point all but certainties, but he still did it. Maybe it was, to keep his hands busy or maybe he just felt self-conscious about Lena returning to his space.

By the time she knocked on his door, everything was clean and ready. Everything except for him. Do we continue our game? He asked himself, hand hovering over the doorknob. Would that make things easier or would that just make me seem like an asshole?

Opening the door he came face to face with her fluffy red hair and tempting lips and… Fucking hell. The little black dress she wore hugged her body in all the right places, showing off her lean shoulders and peaked nipples. He hadn't expected her to change. Lena smiled, that nervous smile that made the corners of her lips twitch and held up the bottle. “I hope you like champagne.”

Say something. Anything. And say something he did. “You're late.”

Asshole it is I guess.

Thankfully Lena just rolled her eyes and leaned against his doorframe. “Aw, did I keep you waiting?”

“A little,” he said, clearing his throat as he moved to let her in. “It’s been a damn chore keeping this cat off the oysters.”

As if Jake had bribed him to, Hemingway made a not-so-sneaky break for the plate on the counter. Jake jumped, intercepting him just in time. The cat hissed and angrily swatted Jake's arms as he carried him to the sofa. From his kitchen, Lena laughed. “I'm sorry. If I'd have known you were in a heated standoff with the cat I would have hurried.”

He shrugged his shoulders, casually making his way back to the kitchen. “So, champagne?”

“One of the more expensive bottles of it,” she promised, handing the bottle to him for inspection.

Jake barely looked at it, focusing more on her. She looked nervous, but the good kind. The kind that told him she was comfortable being here on this date with him. That was all he could ask for - all he wanted. He'd only take the night as far as she was comfortable with, but judging by the look in her eyes Jake was confident she wanted things to go the same way he did.

So, he grabbed a pair of his shitty glasses from the cupboard and started to open the bottle. She arched her brow. “Not even gonna look at it?”

“I trust your taste in drinks.”

“Even after I gave you nothing but shitty ones that one night?”

Jake chuckled, popping the cork and nodding at her. “Even after that.” He poured her a glass and slid the plate of oysters between them. “So, how’s Quinn?”

Lena blushed, glancing down at her dress. “Was it that obvious?”

“Mhm,” he replied. “I've seen Quinn dress you up enough times to recognize her work.”

“Well, what do you think?” She asked, taking a step back and raising her arms to give him a full view of her.

What did he think? As if she didn't already know every single thought ran through his head. Jake could have voiced any of the lewd things - god knew he'd done that thousands of times before - but instead he found himself answering more sincerely, “I think you look perfect.”

My question had been simple, given how well I knew Jake and how his dirty mind worked. It was simple. Ask an obvious question about the very sultry dress Quinn had given me and received an equally obvious dirty response. Simple. Casual. And not at all what Jake said.

“I think you look perfect.”

Perfect. That wasn't a word I was used to hearing, especially when it came to me. Yet this would mark - at least - the second time Jake had used it. Butterflies filled my stomach, filling me with that fuzzy feeling of warm tingles. If it had been anyone else using that word I would have known exactly how to respond. Bullshit. But, I knew he meant it. The look in his eyes, the hint of a real smile, the way he looked just as surprised as I did.

Jake thought I looked perfect.

“So, how do you like your new TV?” I asked turning my now blushing face away from him to look at the bright screen where Egon and the rest of the Ghostbusters were quietly playing out their scenes. My face burned even hotter as I remembered Halloween… Remembered how good Jake had looked dressed as Egon. Maybe he still has that costume? “Ghostbusters?”

“It's a good movie,” he defended, but the wicked gleam in his eye told me he was thinking the same as me.

Smirking, I shrugged. “Woulda thought you'd turn on Romeo and Juliet.”

With a smirk, Jake nodded, “Also a good movie.”

I used the heated tension humming between us as an opportunity to take the first oyster. The salty taste washed over my tongue as I examined the slightly shiny shell in my hand. “So, what's your plan, pretty boy?”

“Am I supposed to have a plan?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I mean I'd think so, after your very confident invitation at work.”

Jake shrugged, taking a moment to enjoy an oyster. “Honestly, I just wanted to be around you.”

“You couldn't be around me at Ozzy's?”

“Okay… I wanted to be around you alone. That better?”

I hummed, beaming at his admission. “Yep.”

He rolled his eyes, casually pushing the plate out of Hemingway's reach. “Don't sound so smug, princess. You were dying to come be alone with me.”

“Hardly!” I argued - lied.

Jake stepped around the counter, placing his body flush up against my own and giving me that look. “Hardly? So you don't want me to do this?”

His fingers skimmed up my exposed thigh, dragging the lace hem of the dress up. I gulped, my eyes shifting to his lips without a second thought. “I want you to do whatever you wanna do.”

“Oh, come on, princess. You can do better than that.”

Fuck it. “I… want you… To kiss me.”

He lifted his hand, fingers grazing the side of my neck as he carefully tilted my head up even more. Our lips brushed against each other, a sigh of anticipation hot on our mingled breaths, and then… Darkness.

The lights cut out, casting Jake and me in complete darkness. Outside horns honked and the chaos told us both that the block - hell maybe even the city, had just shared our experience. Jake’s hands drifted to my shoulders, holding onto me for a moment as he adjusted to the dark. “Of fucking course.”

I swallowed my disappointment and forced a chuckle out of my dry throat. “Don’t suppose you've got any candles on hand?”

“I think I have a few,” he answered. “Let me get a lighter or something.”

Jake stumbled around in the dark until he reached his jacket, pulling the cigarettes and lighter out. The flame did little to light the room, but after a minute of searching his bare cupboards, he found what little he had in candles. I could see the tension in his shoulders almost as clearly as the sour purse of his lips. “Hopefully it's not the whole city.”

“Yeah.” He answered through clenched teeth as handed me the lighter. “I'm gonna go see if anyone outside knows what's going on.”

“Okay,” I replied, watching him go. “I'll light these I guess.”

I stared into the flame as I held the lighter to the wick of the candle and let out a defeated sigh. It's always something. Betting lesbians, a money-hungry Russian, the past, the future… Maybe it was a sign. Maybe the universe in its infinite wisdom was trying to tell us we weren't good together.

The wax dripped over the edge of the candle as I held the light to it. “Bullshit.”

Fuck the universe, I decided. Fuck the past or the future. Fuck everything that tries to tell me what I want.

I wanted Jake. Physically, romantically, in any and every way that he would have me. I wanted him. And tonight was going to be the night whether the city or the universe liked it or not.

I carefully lit the remaining candles, illuminating his apartment just enough to see the outline of his furniture. As I set the last down on the counter I leaned over to give Hemingway a reassuring pat, all the while trying to hold onto the newfound courage making my stomach twist into knots. “It's alright.”

The cat seemed to release some of his tension, using my distracted state to snag an oyster and take shelter in the bathroom where he decided to hide in Jake's open laundry bin. As I quietly chuckled at the way the tips of his ears poked out of the top, and the ferocious noises he made dining on his stolen meal, the apartment door opened and slammed shut as Jake returned. With a silent curse, he threw his jacket and shoes off to the side. “Well, nobody knows shit, but everyone's expecting the power to be out for the rest of the night at least.”

“Damn,” I remarked, trying not to talk myself out of taking action. “Right when your plan was just starting to work.”

It was a flirtatious little taunt, wholeheartedly meant to shift Jake’s focus from the unexpected interruption and back to the fact that we'd been on the verge of a kiss when the lights went out. Sadly, that didn't happen. Instead, Jake continued to grumble, scouring his shelf for a pack of cigarettes and then his lighter, which I still held. “Damn, where the fuck did it go?”

I watched him search for a minute before holding up the object he sought with a smug smirk. “Looking for this?”

He turned to look at me, face set in a grumpy scowl as he lifted the candle off the coffee table and held the flame to the end of his cigarette, lighting it. “Nope.”

“Suit yourself,” I replied, bothered as I set the lighter down on the counter. “Now what?”

Flopping down on his couch Jake laughed humorlessly. “I don't have any board games we can play if that's what you're hoping for.”

“I’m sure we can think of something more interesting to do than play a board game.” Hint. Hint.

Jake rolled his eyes gesturing to the darkened apartment. “You're welcome to look around for something to do.”

DO ME! I wanted to shout at him. My eyes scanned the shelves, looking for something that could lighten Jake's pissy mood and somehow salvage the night. “Where's your camera?” I asked. “We could take some more pictures.”

“In case you didn't notice, we don't exactly have the best lighting for that,” he snarkily replied.

“So you wanna just sit in the dark and do nothing?”

“I'm doing something,” he answered, lifting up his cigarette.

“Well, maybe I wanna do more than sit and smoke.” Jake ignored my statement, staring at the wall in front of him with a bitter, disappointed look on his face. “Really? You gonna ignore me now?”

He glanced at me and shrugged. “You're more than welcome to find something to do.”

Idiot. After a moment of watching the angry puffs of smoke exhale from his lungs I pushed myself away from the counter and flopped down on the couch beside him with a frustrated sigh. Jake's eyes lowered to watch my boobs bounce with the movement. Of course, that'd be what cheers him up. “You know most people would be more concerned with entertaining their guests.”

It was like a light finally flicked on in his brain and with a suggestive raise of his brows and a not at all subtle smirk, Jake and I were back on the same page. Only now I felt like making him work for it.

"Oh, you want some attention?" He took another long drag of the cigarette, slowly sliding closer to me, closing the space between us. He was right there, just a head tilt away from my lips. He timed his head down, seeking me out, expecting me to make it easy.

“You're insufferable." I leaned back, crossing my arms - pressing my breasts up to really catch his attention. He breathed smoke out across my face with a light laugh and a smirk.

"You like it," he whispered, our noses bumping one another.

"This isn't something friends usually do," I said quietly, smugly. Resuming the game we had earlier, the game meant to make this easier, and now the game that I'd use to torture him.

Jake was more smug as he grinned back at me, his eyes dark with lust and sin that would put even the devil to shame. "Yeah, well, I don't want to be your fucking friend." For a split second that something real flashed in his eyes, a fleeting feeling or thought he didn't dare let himself hold onto for too long.

I sighed, that same wave of reality washing over me, forcing my heart to beat quicker and my mind to race with doubt. Moving my head back a little more I whispered the thought, the fear that had kept us from committing to this all along, "This is a bad idea."

He nodded, not in agreement, but in acknowledgment that this was the very fear he shared. Adam's apple bobbing, Jake's eyes dropped to my lips as he sighed, "One of my worst."

I wasn't prepared for the kiss, or the way his hand wound into my hair to pull me closer. Though, I should have been. Jake tasted like oysters and champagne, smoke and, and want. He pulled me effortlessly into his lap, coaxing my mouth open and tangling his tongue with mine to effectively silence that pesky thought in both our minds. He was addictive and he knew it. Smug bastard, he was.

Of all the times we'd kissed, this one felt the most like our first. Maybe it was because of the way he'd been acting like he had in the beginning, asshole-ish and reserved. Or maybe it was because we both knew this was it. There was no forgotten thing, no drunk Russian or nosey lesbians. It was just us.

This was it.

I pulled back slightly, my hand smoothing over his jaw as we both dropped the act and slowly started to abandon our fear in favor of that intimate thing that hummed between us. Still, I couldn't resist the taunt that slid off my tongue, "So, you don't want to be my friend anymore?"

Jake scoffed, pressing another kiss to my lips. "Stop talking."

"I thought you liked being my friend," I continued to tease, threading my fingers into his hair as his mouth moved down the column of my neck. I had to hold in a moan as his teeth tugged at the skin there.

"I like this better," he breathed out, smirking against my skin. His hands gripped my thighs and pulled me down further, rubbing our hips together in a way that sent pleasure up my spine. This time I couldn't contain the wanton moan. Jake chuckled. "Much better."

With a breathless huff, I pulled his hair until his head tilted back up to me. "Shut up."

“Oh,” he whispered breathlessly, lips pulling up into that cocky smirk of his. “Now you wanna stop talking?”

Before I could answer Jake had shifted, rolling me onto the couch beneath him. The new cushions were slow to yield to the weight of us, stiff but not uncomfortable. Above me, Jake's chain necklace dangled, glinting in the low moonlight as it kissed my lips just like he'd done seconds ago. He smirked down at me for a second before all the attitude and the teasing faded, leaving him just smiling down at me as he lifted a hand to my face.

His fingers traced my lips, gliding along my jaw. The swell of warmth… Of want made my chest constrict almost to the point of pain. Out of all the nights we’d spent together - out of all the things we'd already done - this moment was unlike all of them. I wanted him more than I could even understand and in some way… Through some invisible bond between us, I knew he felt the same.

I lifted my head off the cushion and chased his lips. “I wanna stop talking now.”

Jake's still smokey breath fanned across my face as he chuckled. “Okay, Princess. No more talking.”

Our mouths met again, eager and hungry. It was like the feeling of his velvety lips on me, of his hands stroking and squeezing, erasing every thought in my brain. Everything that wasn't him just suddenly didn't matter. Jake dragged his tongue down my neck, fingers tugging the straps of the dress off my shoulders so his lips and teeth could literally my collarbones with kisses and bite marks.

To my surprise he kept moving down lower and lower until his hands were tucked up my dress, pulling my panties off my legs. Jake bit into the meat of my thigh, dragging me down the couch until my ass was literally in his hands. I lifted my head just in time to catch a glimpse of his dark head of hair vanishing beneath my dress as he dove mouth-first into my pussy.

“Oh my god!” I squeezed in shock as his warm tongue lather over my clit. “Jake!”

His fingers squeezing my thighs and holding them open was the only answer I received as his tongue continued its skilled work. With my head pressed firmly to the cushions, I gripped onto his hair, lifting my hips in time with his tongue movements and chasing the pleasure he so shamelessly offered. “Yes! Oh, Jake, right there!”

His teeth grazed my clit, sending me spasming as I came. That didn't stop him though. Jake's tongue just kept licking and sucking, drinking up every ounce that I had to offer until I was practically vibrating beneath him. I pulled his hair harder, pushing him off me and quickly standing up. Before he could ask what I was doing I tugged at his shirt. “Take this off.”

The wicked grin he answered with glowed in the candlelight. “Not gonna say please?”

Reaching down I tugged on his chain, taunting him with an almost kiss. “Now.”

Humming Jake rose from his knees and lifted the shirt over his head, spreading his arms and lightly flexing. “Happy now?”

I raked my nails over his abdomen, instantly undoing his belt as Jake's hands started sliding my arms through the straps of my dress. “I'll be much happier when we're both naked.”

“That makes two of us,” he agreed with a groan as the dress slid off my body with no resistance. Jake's mouth fell open as he lifted his lands to tease my nipples. “God you're perfect.”

My fingers fumbled, head nearly falling back as the pleasure his touch brought spiked through me. “Jake.”

His body pressed closer to mine, forcing me to step back until the backs of my legs hit his bed. “Are you sur-”

I silenced him with a finger over the lips and a gentle reminder, “No more talking.”

Without any more chances to let my fear win out, I finished with his belt and zipper. Kissing down his chest I slowly sank to my knees, taking his pants and underwear with me until his hard, pulsing cock was dangling in front of me. Jake watched me press a few light kisses to the head of him as he carefully lifted his feet out of his jeans. His breaths stuttered as I licked him base to tip, swirling my tongue around him the way I knew he liked from the first time.

“Fuck,” he breathed, quickly taking hold of my face. “As much as I fucking love that mouth of yours princess… I wanna actually fuck you tonight.”

I grinned, kissing his cock again. “Later then?”

“Absolutely.”

Standing in front of him, I set my hands on his broad shoulders, leaning up to kiss him again. Jake's hands wound into my hair as he turned us, pulling me on top of him as he settled on his back. I shifted my hips and angled his cock perfectly allowing me to finally, slowly begin to sink down on top of him. Jake's eyes fluttered shut, his mouth falling open as a surprised, pleasured sound fell from between his lips. His hands scrambled over my waist, squeezing my flesh. “Fuck.”

The stretch wasn't painful, not after the care Jake had taken, but I found myself shaking. It felt so good. Finally having him inside me, the impressive dick his ego permitted me from ever complimenting, hit all the right spots. It'd been a year since I'd had sex, but already, I found myself questioning if anyone else had ever made me feel like this with nothing more than one tiny thrust.

Once I was fully seated on top of him I found my eyes closing, head tilting back as I enjoyed the simple feeling of him twitching inside me, breathing beneath me, holding me. “Holy shit.”

“You're not wasting any time,” he said, holding onto me like his life depended on it. “Got somewhere to be?”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” I replied, ignoring his teasing to lift my hips and bending over him. “So fuck me.”

Jake kissed me hard, setting one hand on the small of my back and using it to push me back down onto his dick. My sharp gasp broke our kiss and spurred my body into moving. Every thrust sent pure pleasure radiating through my body. Every noise Jake made was echoed by the ones I made. It was that word he'd kept saying. Perfect.

When my legs started to shake and my body felt heavier to lift in the fervorous up and down movements, Jake sat up. His tongue lathered over a nipple, earning another sharp sound from my throat, as his fingers traced up my spine and gently closed around the back of my neck. I could feel his lips curl up into a smirk as he pulled my nipple between his teeth. “Come on, princess. Don't stop.”

“Fuck,” I whispered, the desperate sound of his voice emptying my brain even more. “I… Oh god…”

“Don't tell me you're tired already,” he taunted, using his hands on my hip and neck to help lift and pull me. “We just got started.”

Grinding my teeth together to hold in the moan I bit back, “I should have guessed you'd be a pillow princess.”

Jake laughed, tilting his head up to kiss me again. “We can switch if you want.”

“Fuck you,” I answered breathlessly, my eyes punching together as the pleasure all began to build up inside me.

“That's what you're doing… Trying to at least.” He withdrew all attempts at helping me, returning his attention to my breasts.

“Jake,” I whined after what felt like hours. God, I'm out of Practice. Jake only hummed in reply to his name. “Please.”

More smug than ever he finally slid his hands to my waist and expertly flipped me onto my back. His sheets felt cold against my hot skin, but I hardly had a moment to focus on that when Jake wasted no time lifting one of my legs onto his shoulder and securing the other around his waist. “Try not to scream my name too loud, the neighbors tend to get mad about that.”

“You-” He thrust into me, the angle and the power behind it making sparks shoot up my stomach into my chest. “Oh fuck!”

“There you go,” he mumbled, fingers curling into the sheets by my head. “Let me hear those pretty noises.”

As he picked up the pace I realized I couldn't have denied his request even if I wanted to. Every noise I made echoed off the brick walls, every wet noise that his thrusts made only filled me with more fire. My fingers dug into his arms and clawed at his back as that coil in my gut wound tighter and tighter. “Jake,” I begged. “Don't stop!”

“Come on, princess,” he urged, pressing his lips to mine in a sloppy kiss. “I wanna feel you.”

“Ah!” I could feel myself tighten around him, drawing out another moan from Jake's lips.

“Fuck!” He cursed under his breath. “That's my girl. Come on… Come for me, Lena.”

That, the fucked out, desperate, adoring uttering of my name was what made the coil in my gut burst. Fingers digging into Jake's hair, pulling his lips down against mine I came around him, shaking as he thrust again and again and again, fucking me through the orgasm and into another as he came with me. His body tensed and shivered as he kissed me through his orgasm, pulling away to let out a shaky breath before he collapsed on top of me.

My chest heaved beneath him as I stretched my fingers and carefully pulled them from his hair. “Holy… Shit…”

Jake carefully rolled off me, throwing the condom away and collapsing next to me. “We should have been doing that this whole time.”

“Definitely,” I agreed, twisting my head to look at him… Afraid of what I'd find in his eyes when I did. Had this been a mistake?

Jake was smiling, genuinely smiling at me. His eyes were light and sparkling as he pulled me into his arms and threw his blanket over us both. His lips kissed my shoulders and my jaw and even though we’d just spent the last hour or more fucking I felt that swell of want again. “You know, we could be in the dark for a while.”

“All night even,” he agreed. “You should definitely stay the night.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, kissing his lips. “And are you gonna… Entertain me?”

Nodding Jake traced the snake on my spine. “Of course. What kinda man would I be if I left you unsatisfied?”

It was going to be a long night. Long and sweaty and perfect.

Dom looked at the now entirely empty shop with a dead stare. His life's work was fucking gone, and it was all his fault. Desperate anger and a bitter, frustrated sorrow filled his lungs with a scream. He threw empty tool carts across the shop floor and kicked the side of the nearest car. Dom exploded, lashing out until he had to stop.

His back slammed into one of the cars, and he bowed low. Defeated. The sound of her light footsteps treading through his mess gave him some tiny hint of hope. He watched her carefully slide into place beside him, looking out at the empty space. "Sorry."

"Stop." He shook his head, glaring at her. "I hate it when you apologize when you did nothin’ wrong."

Sarah giggled, bumping her shoulder into his. "Sorry."

"You're the worst."

She looked around with an exasperated sigh. "They really did a number on the place, huh?"

Nodding, he slapped the side of the car they leaned on. "Fuckers even took the damn hub caps."

"You are gonna take care of this, right, D?" Her emerald eyes sparkled up at him, hopeful and innocent. His baby sister. "I don't wanna lose you like Eddie."

His jaw clenched at the mention of the name. "Yeah, I'll take care of it."

She held out her pinky with tears in her eyes. "You promise?"

Dom wrapped his finger around hers and sighed, engulfing her in a big hug. "Yeah, I promise."

When he opened his eyes, Dom could still feel the warmth of Sarah's embrace. His mind clung to the sweet moments they'd shared until the end - until the pain made him feel like he couldn't breathe. That sensation forced him upright, scrambling to grab hold of the drugs he'd left at his bedside. He wanted to forget. More than anything, he wanted the pain to stop.

Green eyes flashed in his mind. Hers and Lena's. He'd made them both a promise… A stupid fucking pinky swear. His fist tightened around the drugs as he forced himself to throw them across the room. "God dammit!"

"Well, ain't you just pathetic?”

Dom's head twisted to the door where Eddie lounged against the old frame. “The fuck are you doin here?”

Eddie shrugged, a heavy sigh following him as he sat in the cot opposite his. “It's her birthday today… Figured that's the kinda thing that warrants a temporary truce. We're family after all.”

“You're no family of mine,” he ground out.

Dom could see the hurt in Eddie's eyes, but as always he erased it with that goddamn smirk. “Feelings mutual, big brother. But, I ain't here for you. I'm here 'cause it's what she woulda wanted.”

“She doesn't get to want anything,” Dom said. “Not anymore.”

Eddie nodded, tensely. “Well, we both seem to have conflicting opinions about whose fault that is.”

“Get the fuck out!” Dom shouted, throwing himself to his feet to grab onto Eddie's jacket and throw him out the door. “You get the fuck out before I fucking kill you!”

“Oh, we both know how much you'd like that,” Eddie spat back, laughing in Dom's face. “Sibling killer that you are.”

It took four of his bikers to hold him back while Eddie waved off his men and left with a bitter curse in Spanish. After the noise of their car had gone, the bikers let him go and Dom was out the door. He needed some air. He needed some space away from this fucking warehouse… This fucking city.

There, illuminated in the golden rays of the rising sun, Mav sat on his bike, resting her head in her hands with a wide - real smile. Dom shook his head, forcing out the angry breath he'd been holding. “It's shit like this that makes everyone think you're a bitch.”

She just shrugged, that smile never faltering. “That a no to taking a joyride?”

“I could never say no to you.”

“It's one of the few things I like about you,” she teased, sitting up as he neared. The flippant, uncaring attitude fell for a moment as she asked, “You okay?”

Dom shook his head and answered with the truth, “No.”

Sliding back on the bike seat she patted the fine leather. “Come on then, big boy. Let's go for a ride.”

“Course, Mrs…. What is it now? Scott?”

Mav rolled her eyes. “As if I'd take that old fucks last name.”

With a chuckle, he smiled at her. “That's my Mav.”

“I'm not your anything,” she argued half-heartedly.

Dom threw his leg over the seat and settled in with her sweet smell and soft hands around his waist. He revved the engine and Mav's arms squeezed him tighter. “You'll always be my Mav.”

“Just drive the damn bike, Dom.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

23 notes · View notes